Total and Utter Retreat

Well, I made it: I stuck it out for all 10 days. Pretty unbelievable considering my tendencies—that is trying to move a mile a minute, trying to do everything and anything I can find out about or fit into my schedule. Hey, at least I can recognize this now—I didn’t always own up to it. And travelling really only magnifies this problem because there really are limitless amazing places to go, things to see, people to talk with that you never have to slow down. Unless you book yourself into a 10-day meditation retreat, that is. I must say, it’s really not for the faint of heart, and in the beginning—that is the first 4 days (and still a bit lingering through day 10)—it was certainly a struggle.

Let me begin at the beginning, which is to say, Kim and my race to the ferry boat on Koh Tao the morning of orientation day, March 31. We had had our celebration with our PADI group to toast our certification, and let’s just say that Kim and I made sure that we went all out knowing it was our last night of freedom for some time. Thus the next morning we were not a pretty sight as we frantically shoved our belongings in numerous bags and scrambled to catch our ferry on not enough sleep. We succeeded fortunately and caught a minibus south towards Chaiya, once we reached the mainland, frantically trying to find something to eat—although not hard enough considering that my last meal was an unsatisfying noodle soup and dinner that night was hot chocolate. The minibus dropped us by the side of the rode near Suan Mokkh, the famous monastery with which our retreat center is affiliated. The sign from the highway pointed left, the Thai locals pointed left down a long, dusty road with not a taxi insight. Did I mention we low on sleep? Walking that road was not looking too appealing. Fortunately, a pickup truck with a couple headed for the retreat pulled over and we piled in. (Unfortunately, that couple left the retreat the afternoon of Day 1, so I don’t know who they are really.)

We were ushered through a low metal gate into the dining hall and told that we must rush off to the orientation was just beginning. Laura, meet you burlap sack, and brown mat, and pillows, you’re going to be seeing a lot of them over the next 10 days! Tan Ajahn Poh, the Abbot introduced himself in slow, gruff English, and others introduced themselves and explained procedures and then lead us on a tour of the center—the meditation halls 1-5, the woman’s dorm (certainly never saw the men’s dorm, that would have been very taboo), and the hot springs (my salvation, along with the daily hot chocolate!).

It was then time to check valuables passports, no cameras (I snuck one), no books, no music—does this sound like we were in for fun or what? We got our room keys and moved on in to our ahem, cozy cells. Actually, I’m not even sure a New York broker would be brave enough to call it that. It was Spartan, gray cement walls (some nice lattice work that the top (trust me, much time was spent contemplating it) although that of course let it my friends (loving kindness talking here), the mosquitoes. We were given nets and a blanket and I walked into to hang it over what was quite literally a perpendicular cement slab several feet off the ground. Stellar. But it gets better. Yes, my friends, there was a straw mat for a “mattress” and a wooden log for a “pillow.” No, I’m not kidding. Apparently, we were told that this wooden pillow is used by all monks so that they will wake up when they’ve had just enough sleep and won’t be tempted to sleep in or be lazy—boy, are they right about the not sleeping any extra (sometimes at all). Although, well, you know me, I could sleep on a rock, which this basically was, so it worked out fine in the end. I even used that damn wooden pillow every night (surprisingly not as bad as it sounds because there was a concave smoothing curve to it) except one when I switch to some balled up clothing halfway through a restless night. There was a sign in the dorm entrance that said “Please don’t take your straw mat and wooden pillow outside of your room.” I mean seriously, those were the kind of things I just had to laugh at to keep from going insane—like anyone would be SO tempted to take their comfy pillow out to the courtyard to lounge, oy!

We returned to the main meditation hall, Hall #5, and our personal mats which were to be our home for the next 10 days, and the bell for silence was rung. Then we tramped off, grateful for an early bedtime to combat the lingering pain of our travel from Koh Tao. Not that there was much sleep to be had really—the morning bell ran at 4:00. That’s when Buddhadasa Bhikku, the founder of Suan Mokkh and the Dhamma Retreat Center, used to arise, so that’s what our schedule called for the next 10 days. The tremendous gong rang out for a good 10 minutes, and trust me, even I could not sleep through it—although a few women at the end of the retreat claimed that they had a couple times. Maybe that’s because their room was the closest to the massive bell tower, as was mine (it’s like they knew about me or something)! That first morning I trundled out of “bed” and my room blurry eyed and quite unhappy to go sit on my pillow (it was not long before there were three pillows to cushion the bum for those long periods of sitting!) and hear the morning reading about how we were rising this early so that we could really get the most out of this precious time of day—the time when “teacups are not yet full.” I still remember this line clearly and the cringe that went with it.

It was going to get worse before it got better: it was time for yoga. In six grade I failed to achieve the Presidential certificate for physical fitness because when the PE teach said “go ahead and stretch,” I said, “I am stretching.” Things haven’t gotten much better for me since then, and I am perhaps some of the most inflexible (physically mind you) people I know, always a bit of an embarrassment really. That first day of yoga was therefore painful both physically and mentally. I struggled through the tonsai salutations and the downward dogs, cursing the fact that I was only a mere 10 hours into the retreat.

Next it was time for a morning talk and more sitting meditation until the salvation of breakfast arrived with the 8am bell. It was not as glorious as I’d hoped for—rice soup (although, I dare say I might even miss it just a bit—it did have a lovely coriander flavoring), lettuce and bananas. This was no bowl of honey bunches sadly, and did little to quench the hunger or the pain of morning one. After breakfast was chore time and I was off to sweep around the clinic (for which I am quite grateful as some were stuck with toilet cleaning duties) and then shower back at the dorm. From the well. With a bucket. It’s amazing what you can get used to. There was not much time to dwell however, as the bell began to thunder across the courtyard signifying a necessary return to Hall #5 for Part 2 of our day: Dhamma (duty) talk for an hour by one of the staff followed by 45 minutes each of walking and sitting meditation.

The bell donged for lunch and we trudged to the dining hall expecting the worst. At least in this we were happily surprised. I at least thought the lunches were quite good. Spicy curries, papaya salads, hearty rice, sometimes some glass noodle dishes, lettuces, often fresh fruit, and occasionally some weird Thai dessert that we at gratefully. All was not lost! After lunch was nap time—unofficially so—until Part 3 of the day, three and a half hours of Dhamma talk, sitting and walking meditation, and chanting and loving kindness talks. Oy vey.

Salvation by tea time (hot chocolate!) came with the 6pm bell. Certainly no dinner or snacks in sight mind you. Then it was off to the hot springs which were truly one of the more beautiful and serene places I’ve had the pleasure to lounge and soak, with palm these and greenery overhanging the clear fiery water. We had to wear thai sarongs to bathe as a nod to the modest culture and it was actually quite nice to wear the beautiful batik cloth. The water soothed our aching meditation postures. The evening bell was not far off at 7:30pm, and it was back to Hall #5 for sitting meditation and group walking meditation, for women around the round pond and for men around the larger rectangular pond. (Did I mention the men and women were separated middle-school-style down the length of the hall and for meals in the dining hall?) The group walking was really quite lovely actually, and I breathed in the sight of the black trees, bright stars, and strolling figures reflected in the dark waters surrounded by a few scattered candelabras. There was more. Bedtime—9:15, lights out—9:30 as the generator cut off. I was already asleep like a baby. No longer a “night person,” at least not in Chaiya!

This is pretty much how the next 10 days went—with LOTS of ups and downs of course. Trying to recollect (and it is quite hard—we were not permitted to keep journals either, only note-taking on talks so that we would focus our thoughts only on meditation) it is hard to remember specific days. The early ones certainly crept by painfully slowly and I can remember lying on my concrete slab staring up at the ceiling thinking, “This is only Day 2—I have 8 more to go!!!” with a mixture of horror and fear. Day 1-3 were like that, 3-4 were kind of more along the lines of “What are they talking about?” Day 5-6 I started to control my breathing enough to see some light at the end of the tunnel, Day 7&8 were a return to failure, and day 9&10 were challenging and rewarding and most importantly, near the end!

There were different critters in my room each night: the dark frog, the frog with orange stripes, the bugs, and the huge lizard perched on my ceiling. There were numerous trips to the bathrooms with toilets flushed with bucket water—I’ll take the Western style ones thank you very much! And trips to the purified rainwater tanks to hydrate and fill the belly in times of scarce meals. There was learning to bathe out of a well with buckets while wearing a sarond out in the open of the courtyard and still trying to be modest. There were interesting, challenging, and irritating lectures, comforting tales of loving-kindness in action, and endless practice of “breathe in, breathe out” trying to quell the “monkey mind” and focus the concentration (Samadhi), there were whispers of absurdity to Kim, and smiles at silent neighbors. So, what did I learn? So much I think is the answer. Did I “succeed”? Not really. I did not attain Nirvana—perhaps only made it to step 2-1/2 of 16 steps of mindfulness of breathing—but I don’t think it’s for me really. I did however, learn that I control (or should at least) control my mind—I am not its victim and it needs to listen to me and some ways (i.e. breathing) to make it do that more regularly. I learned the deep kindness and generosity of the Buddhist monks and lay staff, and the wisdom of loving-kindness, a truly excellent line of thinking. And on Day 10, at the Sharing Insights open dialogue, I learned that I was certainly not the only one who had struggled to conquer my monkey mind. Everyone else who looked so calm and peaceful sitting atop their pillows were struggling silently beside me. We were all modern, busy people trying to take a brief respite into a different lifestyle in an attempt to figure out what in their privileged, hectic, full lives left them so unsatisfied and wanting more.

Finally, on the morning of Day 11, after a final meditation sitting, we were released to the dorm to pack up our rooms and return to the dining hall for tea and TALKING! After a farewell speech from Tan Ajahn Poh and a photo session, we trooped down the long road and across the highway to the main monastery of Suan Mokkh for breakfast and a tour of the enclosure.

Afterwards, in an attempt to make a border run to Burma at the immigration post of Ranong, I had the most amazing real world example of loving kindness in action. As most other participants in the meditation retreat headed south to Surat Thani, the disembarkation point for east coast islands (including my travel buddy, Kim), I was trying to catch a bus up north and was told several times to wait by the side of the busy highway for a bus going to Ranong. After one hour and watching others across the street board numerous buses and taxis, I grew disheartened. Almost an hour later, I was in despair. Then I spotted an orange robe and ran over to the monk to ask if I was correct in thinking a bus would pass this way for Ranong. He asked a few locals nearby and said “yes” and after asking me with genuine curiosity if I could maybe read Thai and my obvious admittance to the contrary, he said he would help me spot one, encouraging me to “breathe in, breathe out” the whole time! An hour later, no luck.

I made the call that Ranong was not in my future and it was time to follow the herds to the eastern islands, Koh Phanang, in particular. The monk said he would help me get there. He flagged down a taxi to Chaiya (paying my way mind you despite argument from my side), then once in Chaiya flagged down a taxi to Surat Thani, where he claimed to be going as well. And hour later he had the taxi drop us at a travel agent so I could buy my ferry ticket out to the island. After my repeated thanks I asked where he was heading now. “Back to Chaiya,” was his reply. I was in shock. I couldn’t believe he had just spent 3 hours helping me reach my destination on a random hot season morning and would now have to make another hour journey back from where we had come. He only replied that he wanted to make sure I was okay. I had a woman in the travel agency write “Thank you so much for your help,” in Thai and handed it to him as he waited for another taxi across the street (we actually women can’t hand things to a monk but must place them on a table for the monk to pick up). All in all, this experience was an appropriate end to a very thoughtful ten days from which lessons will surely surface for me for weeks and years to come.

This has been quite a long post, but then again, it was quite a long ten days! I will leave you with just a couple of my favorite inspirational and thoughtful quotes that were posted on various days (we soaked in any written word with relish!) to give you a taste of just what I was absorbing those many days. Goodnight my good dhamma friends.

The thought manifests as the word;
The word manifests as the deed;
The deed develops into habit;
And habit hardens into character;
So watch the thought and its way with care
And let it spring from love
Born out of a concern for all beings.
~The Buddha Teaching

“In the stillness and silence of meditation, we glimpse and return to that deep inner nature that we have so long ago lost sight of amid the busyness and distraction of your minds. We are so fragmented into so many different aspects. We find ourselves scattered everywhere in all directions, leaving nobody at home. Meditation, then, is bringing the mind home.” ~ Bring the Mind Home by Sogyal Rinpoche

A Little Slice of Heaven

If you don’t want to hate me, it might be best to stop reading now...

Last Saturday I arrived in Thailand, and so far it has really been like a little slice of tropical heaven. All the pictures I had seen and all the hype I had heard have actually proved to be close to true. I dare not say this of course, because I am part of the problem: yet another tourist “discovering” this beautiful , friendly, inexpensive country complete with fabulous food and fruit. The area suffers from the constant tourist debate—how much is too much? Every tourist will complain about it ironically, but the truth is that the islands of Southern Thailand where I’ve been are so lovely that they deserve to be enjoyed albeit responsibly and some seem to be maintaining that balance for the moment, so fingers crossed. Of course I have to heed my mother’s experience, as she still imagines Phuket as an untouched paradise that she knew 30 years ago, and from fellow travelers I know this to no longer be true and in fact the opposite.

I arrived in Krabi, Thailand, from Penang, Malaysia, by minibus which came to fetch me from the doorstep of my guesthouse at 5am. Sometimes as a traveler one just goes with the easy option—this was such a time. I had far flung dreams of visiting the Perhentian Islands on the northeast coast of Malaysia or heading up by ferry hopping to Langkawi , another popular Malaysian resort island, but the minibus was a straight shot up to Krabi to meet a girl I’d met in the Cameron Highlands, and I just got lazy frankly. I rolled onto the minibus with sleepy eyes, and nine hours and one border crossing later, I had arrived in the seaside town of Krabi. But this was not my end destination. I then had to hop on a longboat—literally a long boat—the only transport to Rai Leh Beach, a gorgeous beach at the tip of the peninsula that is surrounded by steep limestone cliffs and thus only accessible by boat. That’s right: there are no car or motorbikes on the island which made it a very laidback, pedestrian friendly place—a nice change after months of feeling like target practice for cars after my glory days as a pedestrian in NYC. The Westside of the peninsula has the nicer beach and highend resorts, and the east beach (which at lowtide tends to look like a very unparadise like mudflat) has the more budget accommodations—yep I was there! The girl I was meeting, Kim from San Fran, was doing a three day rock climbing course, and had booked us for a place that ended up being a bit sketchy (ie lots to be desired in the bathroom especially!) and so upon discovering this, we made plans to switch to a much nicer bungalow resort for the next two nights.

I spent my first day lounging on the beach, after a hardy hike up with Kim, her climbing classmate, Deb (also a New Yorker!), and instructor Tex (pronounced Tek). I’m a big wimp clearly, so I was impressed with myself for taking the steep jungle trek up to the lookout where they BEGAN their ascent. Geez, these girls are hardcore. The next day Kim and I hiked up a treacherous climb and then back down a similar descent to find a lagoon that had been talked up by various people on the beach. They were not kidding: perhaps one of the most beautiful and unique places I’ve ever been. Even though you knew many, many people had been there, it felt very untouched. Then it was time to meet Deb for another lazy afternoon on the beach. After a cheap pedicure with (too bright?) pink polish, a nice dinner of padthai (amazing) and some beers at one of the very chill bars strung with lights and complete with a nine year old putting on a fire show, we packed up our bags to head to yet another paradise destination that is raved about: Koh Phi Phi (pronounced, Koh Pee Pee) where the film “The Beach” was filmed.

We arrived via ferry and then boarded another longboat to travel to one beach over from the main port called Hat Yao, or Long Beach. Our accommodation was up approximately 100 stairs, no joke, but the bungalow was affordable and surprisingly spacious and clean, and the view from the restaurant was spectacular. We ordered green curry and pad thai for lunch along with the most delicious shakes yet, huge and made with fresh fruit mango. Then we lazed on the public beach and I rented a mask and snorkel to explore the shallow reefs just off shore filled with colorful fish. Then came the best hour in Thailand yet: a coconut oil massage. After a riveting sunset complete with some rain and rainbows, we booked massages at beautiful thatched roof huts hidden behind mangrove trees just a few metres from the lapping tide. For the next hour, I was in heaven—and I cam e out of the whole thing smelling pretty excellent as well! After a healthy dinner of fried rice at one of the few beach bars which was strung with lights, we called it a night to be up early to do some more snorkeling. Unfortunately rough seas made the snorkeling less pleasant, and as we had felt bold to only get masks and forgo the fins (read: too cheap) we tired out quickly and had to calm ourselves to make it back to shore. Good prep however for our next activity: a PADI open water scuba certification course in Koh Tao on the east coast for which we were heading that evening on an overnight ferry. After a couple more fruit shakes (pineapple, banana, watermelon, gosh they were good), we took a longboat to a ferry to a bus to a shuttle to Surathani, the port town, where we boarded our 11pm ferry along with 50 some roommates. That’s right—it was certainly the biggest dorm I’d ever stayed in. Thin, narrow mattresses and tiny pillows lined the circumference of the top floor of the boat, and we all slept like sardines lined up in a can. Very cozy, as a New York apartment advertisement would say! We had filled our bellies with delicious food from the nightstalls lining the port which had a great atmosphere, and perhaps the best mango and sticky rice dessert I have ever had the privilege to eat. If you don’t know what that is, go to your nearest Thai restaurant and beg them to make it for you—you won’t be sorry.

I slept like a baby actually, and woke the next morning as the boat was docking at the port on Koh Tao. We took a free taxi shuttle provided by one of the dive resorts to check out various dive and accommodation options and settled on Ban’s Diving Resort which we had heard good things about and which gave us free accommodation during the course. We settled into our room, grabbed lunch at one of the cute beachside cafes with pillow lounge seating and hit the beach for a bit before it was time for class orientation in the late afternoon. After an incredibly boring 2 hour intro video to diving (how am I going to go back to school, yikes), we adjorned until the next morning, when we had more class-time with our instructor, Flav, who was much more animated and interesting in an airy classroom overlooking the beach. That afternoon we did our first dive, a contained one in the pool where we reviewed equipment and practiced skills such as taking off our mask under water and subsequently emptying it and working to regulate our BCD (buoyancy control device, basically an inflatable lifejacket) and control our breaking through the regulator in order to maintain our position on the floor of the deep end. There were moment of panic (am I breathing? Really? Underwater??) but the class of 7 of us all prevailed. So Kim and I celebrated with sunset snacks and beers on the beach on bean bags at one of the chill bars strung with colorful lanterns, lights, and candles.

The next day we had our first two open water dives! We boarded the shuttle boat at half past seven, set up our gear, reviewed the basics, donned our wetsuits, and just after 9am we set off into the murky depths of Mango Bay for our first dive. Unfortunately the visibility was horrible, but we reviewed important skills and tried to work on our orientation in 11 meters of water, weightlessness, strange sounds, objects appearing larger and closer. After a requisite service break for an hour, we were off to another dive site, Twin Rocks for our second dive. Here the water was incredibly clear and we saw bright fish, coral, sea worms, etc. There were more skills to practice, before it was back to the island for more classtime.

Then yesterday morning we had our last two dives and saw many fish, a Moray eel, beautiful coral, and played around in the water feeling the glory of being weightless as if in outerspace. Then we came back dry land to take our final exam--I passed with a 90%, not too bad for a rusty student! In the afternoon we went snorkeling at a nearby bay where we saw over a dozen black tip reef sharks swimming just a few meters away! In the evening it was time to celebrate with our scuba group--the best one ever of course. After watching the video they had made of our dives (embarassing!) we hit the bar for dinner, drinks, and dancing.

Now begins yet another journey and yet another challenge. Today, Kim and I take a ferry to the mainland and then head to the small town of Chaiya where we will be registering for a 10 day meditation. Oh, did I mention it's a silent retreat! Yowzas. I've set my goal for 5 days but of course will try to make it all the way. In any case I'm hoping that it will be at the least an interesting experience and give me a better sense of the culture here as spiritualism and Buddhism plays a huge underlying role here. At best maybe I'll gain some clarity. Click here to see details: http://www.suanmokkh.org/ret/ret-sm1.htm. Wish me luck, and I'll be back in 5-10 days!

Moving through Malaysia

So I’ve made a couple more stops in Malaysia since I last wrote. I spent two more full days in KL--the first wandering around (perhaps too much—some achy feet for sure) the whole town. I woke up early to secure a ticket to go up the Skybridge of the Petronas Towers (for you Hollywood buffs, it was featured in a movie featuring Sean Connery and Catherine Zeta-Jones I believe—they dangled from it or something equally believable). I actually love the Petronas Towers (see picture from last post), and though my mother questioned my taste at first based on this fact, I think she has come around. They really are quite spectacular, especially at night.

I spent the rest of the day exploring Little India, sampling tandoori chicken and naan, Penang laksa (spicy noodle soup), and various ambiguous juice flavors at the Saturday market kicked into high gear and stretched for blocks on end. I visited a couple intimidating mosques where I was requested to don the full veiling—very hot—temperature-wise that is. After seeing the main square, the Merderka, and dodging some soaking rains, I made my way back to the Skybridge to watch the informational video on the Petronas Towers and oil company (aka propaganda) and then took in a sweeping albeit dramatically cloudy view of the rain-soaked city. I topped of the night with dinner for one at the night markets on Jalan Alor street—did I mention I was the only one in my dorm that night? Alone or lonely? That night I would venture lonely perhaps.

The next day I was off to the Batu Caves via public bus—ah, the adventure of it all…After wandering around for a good while asking way too many people the same question, I finally found the loading point for bus 11d, and was off on the 13km ride to the caves, three looming caves holding impressive Hindu shrines including a humongous gold statue that can be seen miles away. Every year, a million Hindus make pilgrimmage to this site for a religious festival in January or February. There were also plenty of cheeky monkeys to keep visitors entertained:

After a visit to the Islamic Art Museum and the orchid and hibiscus garden (the national flower of Malaysia), I could be found pacing the side of an enormous highway that had somehow roped me in. I’m glad there was no camera on me as I took on 8 lines of speeding traffic—the joys of travel! But made it I did, and I was off on another moderately successful adventure to Putrajaya, the new landscaped “town” that houses the administrative and government offices of Malaysia. The train ride out went smoothly, the waiting for the public bus to give me a cheap mini tour did not. (“Just take a taxi!” I was told for the 10th time that day. Nope, didn’t take them in NYC, certainly not taking them here!) An hour and a half later, I boarded a bus and had a rather frantic though ultimately rewarding view of the impressive mosque and other government buildings by night.

The following morning I rounded out my KL tour with a visit to the KL tower on a lovely, clear morning. The views were really spectacular and a good note to end on. Then I sweated my way, lugging my backpack and two other bags (I have no idea what was in them) to the bus station to board a bus to the Cameron Highlands—a cooler mountain retreat midway between KL and Penang. I met two Brits who were on my bus and staying at the same guest house and hung out with them that evening over a delicious curry dinner and scones with fresh strawberry jam (a local specialty).

The following day we took a half-day country tour that took us to a rose growing center, strawberry farm, butterfly farm, honey farm, Buddhist temple, and my favorite, the BOH tea estate—the biggest tea supplier in Malaysia. The tea hills were stunningly beautiful and made me shift my dream job from owning a vineyard to having a tea farm. I had a lovely relaxing afternoon in the cool mountain air and ate more than my fair share of vegetarian banana leaf meals, naan, and tandoori chicken (notice a theme—I heart Indian food). But Malaysia has really been an amazing surprise to me that Malaysia with its diversity of cultures and cuisines. The population is so varied and each brings it specialties to the table, keeping meal options exciting and enticing. I know this is blasphemy to say, but even in Italy I got bored with the food. After a couple months there’s only so much Italian food you can take and then you just want some greasy Chinese—and they don’t do that so well. Here Malay, Chinese, Indian, Indonesian, Thai all intersect which makes for foodie heaven—especially at these prices!

On Wednesday, I was up early to catch another bus farther up the west coast of the country, this time to the island of Penang, which is actually connected to the mainland by an impressively long bridge. However, I took a 20 minute ferry ride, and boy am I glad I did. I started talking to the only other backpacker on the ferry—a German student, Sylvia. We were both trying to find accommodation in Georgetown, the main city on Penang, and after wandering the town center in the heat of the day, we finally found a lovely guest house with a twin room for two for a mere RM 25 (about $8 US)—brilliant! We spent the rest of the afternoon glorifying in our find, wandering the town, admiring the brightly colored colonial building with Buddhist wats, Hindu temples, and Muslim mosques scattered throughout, taking a rickshaw ride, and feasting on Indian banana leaf meals and mango lassis.
The next morning we headed out to see one of the largest Buddhist temple complexes in Southeast Asia, the Kek Lok Si Temple with its impressive Pagoda of Ten Thousand Buddas and good views of Georgetown. Breakfast came in the form of laksa asam, spicy noodle soup accompanied by sugar cane juice and a side of karaoke--no joke--not me mind you, the others in the cafe starting the day off right. Next stop was another public bus (very impressive system actually) to Penang hill for a steep (and slow) funicular up to the top for more sweeping views and a Hindu temple adjacent to a mosque with a playground in between—such interesting co-existence in relative peace. Bus ride number three for the day brought us towards the southern end of the island to see the Snake Temple, where live poisonous snakes are kept at the alter, lulled to sleep by the incense, which are said to be servants of the deity Chor Soo Kong. Our final journey for the day was to see another impressive temple, Wat Chaiya Mangkalaram, which houses one of the longest sleeping Buddhas in the world at 33 meters. The temple was closed, but the outside was still a wonderful sight of boldly painted and grotesque creatures. We rounded out the day with an eclectic dinner of satay, sticky rice, wok fried noodles, soybean juice, rojak (fruit salad tossed in a spicy thick brown tamarind sauce, a local specialty!) and fresh mango, pineapple, and guava.

Today we were mostly templed-out to be honest. After a great Indian breakfast of roti canai (flaky dough pancake dipped in lentil sauce) and the tarik (the most delicious sweet milky foamy poured tea!) and visiting some local craftsman (the sign-engraver, the incense stick maker), we took a terrific tour of the Cheong Fatt Tze Mansion, “the Rockefeller of the East” and learning all about real feng shui, we headed out to the beach of Batu Ferenghi on the northwestern end of the island where we strolled the beach, and get this, went parasailing tandem for less than $25. Loved it. After a stop at a quaint and untouristy fishing village, we bussed it back to Georgetown for my final Indian meal and more tea tarik—I will miss this! With that I’m off to Thailand, a place I’ve always wanted to go to since hearing about my mother’s experiences living there. And oh, the food of course! I board a 5am bus to Krabi, a beach town on the west coast of Southern Thailand, and while I can’t wait, I’m delighted with my time in Malaysia, highly recommend the scenery, food, and incredibly friendly people, and hope to be back sooner rather than later!

Into Asia

As my (budget) 1am flight arrived at Singapore International Airport 5:15am—scratch that 3:45am local time, i.e. I had LOTS of time to get acquainted. It was still dark for another 3 hours and I was not feeling one ounce of courage. Instead I wandered the near-empty terminal waiting for the dawn to come, checking internet at McDonald’s, and feasting on what I later found out was a traditional breakfast choice from a place called Ya Kun Kaya: soft boiled eggs, a very sweetened thickish coffee and cheesy French toast served with kaya, a jam like substance made of eggs, sugar, and coconut.

Around 8am, having become quite at home in Terminal 2, I forced myself onto a city bus that would take me near to the hostel, Betel Box, where I had a booking for the night. I checked in and played the waiting game another few hours until my room was ready. I met two girls sitting at the breakfast table and after chatting for a bit made plans to join them at the night safari attraction. Then I wandered the city for hours taking in the sights and the FOOD! It is so modern, with huge buildings, luxury hotels, but also bustling ethnic neighborhoods of Kampong Glam (the Arab district), Little India, and Chinatown, as well as Malay food stalls asserting a strong presence. I tried special poured frothy, milky tea that is a local specialty, and also had some delicious chicken curry and naan, in addition to various odds and ends of juices (mango, sugar cane) and sweets. Then I met the two girls at Raffles, the most famous hotel in Singapore—and huge, fancy colonial style hotel where the cocktail, the Singapore Sling is said to have been invented. I had a lovely time not getting one as they were SD$21 (still about $15) and not for budget backpacker. We trekked out on the train to the Night Safari which was up at the northern end of the island. We saw a couple shows and then took a tram ride through the night jungles, seeing Asian elephants, tigers, etc. I even walked through a bat enclosure which was only slightly terrifying.

The next day after an amazing noodle lunch (the first of many to be sure) and trying my friend’s black chicken (surprisingly good and not that scary), I set off on a bike ride to make my perilous way to the Eastern beach, only to be stopped in my tracks my a thunderous storm that had me huddling under a hut with some 20 locals for about an hour. Finally, I’d had enough and journeyed back to my hostel braving the rain.

In anticipation of taking a bus to Malaysia the next day, I reluctantly left my cozy hostel and moved to one closer to the center of town and the bus depot. That even I joined the two girls for dinner at Clarke Quay, a lively, lit-up area along the Singapore River with lots of restaurants and entertainment, even a bungee sling for people wanting to loose their dinner I suppose.

The next morning I was up early to squeeze in some last minute sightseeing: a view of the city from a 70th floor restaurant, the famous Merlion statue, and a brief boat ride in a traditional bumboat down the river, before heading back to catch my bus to Melaka, a four hour bus trip over the bridge into Malaysia and through the countryside. I arrived to the commercial part of the city and took a town bus to the older part where I found my lovely lodging, Kancil Guest House. I had a single room in an old Chinese house with a nice garden in the back complete with bright orange fish in a tiny moat. I chatted with the 3 other people staying there, two Belgians (one who was caring for the place as the owner had gone to Singapore for a week), and a Brit. One gave his copy of Lonely Planet Southeast Asia as he was flying home the next day—a terrific surprise seeing as I had not yet committed to buying one!

The next morning I set off to see the sights of Melaka, a city with an interesting history and intriguing mix of cultures. Talk about a melting pot, as the city’s diverse cuisine says it all—there’s Malay, Chinese, Indian, and Baba-Nonya (Malays culture intermarrying with Chinese). Then throw in the fact that the Portuguese was the first colonial precense in the 1600s, followed by the Dutch and then the Brits, and the influences on the architecture and food are extensive and varied. The town square has striking red stucco exteriors which contrast with Buddhist temples and white-washed mosques (even one with a pagoda-style minaret) just blocks away.

Today, after a leisurely morning complete with a breakfast of street-hawker noodles (don’t know what they were exactly, but boy were they good) eaten in the peaceful guest house garden, I set off for my next destination: Kuala Lumpur. As I walked around town tonight I already got a really good feeling about the city. The Petronas towers lit up at night are a striking element to the city’s skyline and seem to appear at every turn of a street corner, likewise the sky tower. I spent time in a mall (I know what you’re thinking: you went all the way to Asia to go to a mall?!), but it was really something. 12 floors I tell you. And the food court was something out of a dream. Then I went to Chinatown via the monorail and wandered the hawker stalls, sipping on iced tea and sugar cane juice (why have one when you can have both and they cost 50 cents!). I didn’t buy anything…yet. The place is ridiculous. Underneath the ubiquitous red lanterns, Polo shirts, Prada wallets, and Puma shoes (who cares if they’re fake, they look pretty darn real!) are on sale for $20, then $15, then $10, then you walk away and they are chasing after you….”Last sale of the night…just for you!! Special customer! Only for you!!” Then I wandered back to my guest house past more amazing eateries of Malay, Indian, and Chinese food, trying to resist the seemingly limitless temptations at every turn. It’s going to be a tough couple of months.

So far Asia has been a real treat. Of course the food here is right up my alley: delicious, flavourful, plentiful, and CHEAP. It's a dream come true, perhaps my version of heaven would be a street of hawker stalls (where everything is sanitary)--no problems as of yet though, knock on wood! The people are very friendly, everything seems relatively clean and high-tech, and there's plenty of culture to be had. Now the tough part is trying to decide where to go, because there are so many places to see, and never enough time...

And then there was one…

I’m all alone again. Well, not exactly. Rachel and Greg have indeed left me, but as luck would find it (in an instance otherwise very much lacking in luck), we met a girl from NYC at the bus station at 4am when we got stuck, and after R&G departed, I still had her company. Time has been utterly confusing this week, and it’s only going to get worse—I leave for Asia, Singapore to be exact, tonight at 12:55am, although only yesterday was I reminded that it in fact left SUNDAY night not MONDAY night as I was anticipating! Yikes. But first, let me rewind:

After departing Fraser Island, we boarded a Greyhound bus to take us north to Airlie Beach, the departure point for our Whitsunday 2 day/2 night sailing trip. Due to the (lack of) coordination of the bus schedule, we had an afternoon stop in the town of Hervey Bay to wander around and get something to eat (mostly Subway again), and then carry on on an overnight bus to our final destination where we arrived at 9am. We went and checked in for our boat, the Habibi (meaning darling), and boarded it early that afternoon after making the requisite booze run. The weather left much to be desired unfortunately. It was overcast and on and of rain, and we were warned by our crew, Skipper Greg, first mate Shane, and helper Katie that the ferocious winds were kicking up some rough seas. And they weren’t kidding. The endlessly rocking boat was hit by some major swells that had some in our group (20 girls, 5 guys—seriously) feeling quite unwell. I just tried to pretend I was a baby being rocked to sleep, which worked better some times than others. We motored to a “calmer” bay (too rough to put up the sails) sheltered by one of the 74 islands that make up the Whitsundays, and anchored there for the night.

We were shown our sleeping quarters which were tight to say the least. If I hadn’t gotten to know Rach and Greg so well on our trip so far, this would be the time. After a delicious (and all you can eat) BBQ cooked up by the gregarious crew (Greg was the last man standing of course, I was second to last), we turned in for an early night to recover from our precious night’s sleep on a bus. Next morning, we were awakening to the boat seriously a-rockin’ as Captain Greg had turned on the motor at 6am to brave the rough seas as try and make sure we reached Whitehaven Beach, the 3rd most beautiful beach in the world according to some travel magazine somewhere and featured beach of the island group. We were the only boat to reach it that early. There was a brief parting in the clouds, at least some shadowy sunlight so we were shuttled to shore and climbed to the lookout point over the beach for a nice view. Then we donned our “sexy stinger suits” (life threatening jellyfish abound during the wet season in Queensland—note to self: next time don’t come during the wet season!) and enjoyed the warm clear waters despite the windy day.

Next stop was snorkeling in one of the many bays, where the sun highlighted the spectacular coral and incredibly brilliant tropic fish. We met the largest residents, Elvis and George, two monster groupers that were at least 3 feet long! Lunch, another snorkel, and another delicious dinner rounded out the day, so even though it was still raining from time to time, we didn’t have too much to complain about! The next morning, after one last snorkel and swim off the boat, we headed back to Airlie—it was even calm enough to hoist a sail! We headed for our last Greyhound bus trip—a long trek up to our final destination, Cairns, where R&G were catching a flight not even two days later, and myself the day after that—or so we thought. And here’s where one of those lovely “travel stories” commences—one that is so painful at the time, but in retrospect is just another absurd story to tell.

We boarded our bus at 2pm and it was due to arrive at 1am in Cairns. However, due to days of heavy rains up and around Cairns thanks to our Wet Season timing, the roads were in bad condition. As we reached the midway point of Townsville around 7pm, our driver told us that the roads and especially the bridge over the Tully River were in a precarious position and did we want to try anyways to make it up to Cairns, and of course the whole bus voted to press on. This is where I went to sleep for what apparently were 7 hours. (I’m like a baby—stick me in a moving vehicle and I’m out like a light!) I woke up around 4am to what looked like the bus station of Townsville, and that’s because it was—we had driven over 3 hours up to the Tully Bridge and unable to pass (and Greyhound headquarters would not let us try to wait out the tides) had returned to Townsville. Stellar. With that the bus driver briskly told us he tried his best and Greyhound took no responsibility for our current circumstances, i.e. sitting at an outdoor bus station at 4am with no accommodations to speak of. All I can say is at least it wasn’t raining. We sat on a bench and I called the hostel in Cairns to let them know that we were not going to make it obviously, while R&G fretted about their flight—which they had to check in for in 24 hours! However, in the silver lining category, that is when we met the American girl, Libby, who I’ve been travelling with since—nothing like horrendous situations to bring people together with plenty to talk (complain) about.

Plan B: We waited until the bus office opened two hours later and then booked ourselves for an 11:30am bus. Rach and Greg hung out in Townsville while Libby and I took a ferry to Magnetic Island (just 8km off the coast) for a couple hours to relax by a beach). When we got back at 10:30, Libby overheard a Greyhound worker say all buses were cancelled for the day. Um, when were they going to make that announcement?! Time for Plan C: panic. Rach and Greg were clearly not making their flight out of Cairns, but as luck would have it (all relative here!) they found a fairly reasonable flight from Townsville to Sydney for their connecting flight home. Myself and Libby booked ourselves for a bus for the following day and crossed out fingers that the roads would be open by then, and then we all (along with two Norwegian girls from our boat in the same predicament) went to check into a hostel for the night. Mainly so we could shower—I don’t even want to tell you how long it had been—okay, 5 days. Boy did that shower feel good!

That evening Rach, Greg, and I had a final dinner together and treated ourselves to an all you can eat pancake special/challenge, reminisced about our trip, and had one last Frisbee catch in the town gardens, and a few sing-a-longs (Les Mis of course). They departed early the next day and I just barely held back my tears. I was sorry to see my two fantastic travel buddies go, but they had Hawaii to look forward to, and well, I still had to get myself up to Cairns!

Unfortunately, that was not going to happen that day: all the Greyhound buses for Thursday were cancelled as well. Now my flight was in trouble. Luckily, after speaking with one unhelpful Jetstar representative who said I’d be charged fees to change my ticket out of Cairns, I spoke with another woman who said due to inclement weather the airline would grant me a free date change. Lesson: always call back! I changed my flight to Sunday, as Libby did for her Friday flight, and we headed back to Magnetic Island to make the most of our “stranded in Townsville” day. A great café lunch, nice hike and some lounging by the pool made the day a perfectly pleasant one, and the best news of all was waiting for us at the Greyhound terminal that night: the buses were likely to run the next day.

It was true! Friday morning we caught our bus up to Cairns (with many other fellow backpackers I had come to recognize from camping out in the bus terminals over the past few days). We arrived in Cairns, booked into a hostel, wandered the town, and booked some diving and snorkeling tours for the next day.

The next day while Libby did a more extensive dive trip, I went on a snorkeling trip to two locations on the Great Barrier Reef which is located off the coast of Cairns. The water was choppy and rough (what’s new) but after braving it, we reached a beautiful coral reef, where after a brief scuba lesson, I opted to snorkel over the brilliant shallow reefs. I could see the many fish below being tossed with the water current just like me. After lunch, we headed to the second location and I actually braved up (I’ll admit, I was scared!) and did a 30 minute scuba dive—my first ever! Not a bad place to try it for the first time. It was mesmerizing and completely surreal to swim through the murky opaque turquoise waters before emerging up-close to coral reefs towering up to the surface. After holding a sea cucumber and touching some starfish and coral, we returned to the surface and I was thrilled with my adventure.

Today, Libby and I headed to the airport and parted ways, as she was off to Melbourne and a few more weeks in Australia before heading to Asia herself. Maybe we’ll meet up in Asia, you never know. On the way we had a truly unpleasant experience with our taxi driver who was clearly having a bad day, week, or life. Upon our exiting of the cab and asking if he had change for a $20 he got very huffy and words were exchanged about us trying to rip him off and then I said, please don’t be rude and leave me with such a negative last impression of Australia to which he reply, “Where you come from, it’s not a very nice place.” Boy, talk about chip on the shoulder. But then a salesclerk in one of the airport shops brightened that sour turn. He inquired where I was from and when I replied NYC, he raved about a trip he had taken there and how friendly people had been to him and how much he liked it. I have certainly experienced a fair share of negativity because I’m American, but such a morning just goes to show how useless those generalizations are and how every country is full of good and bad people, friendly and miserable ones. It is just as important in travel to be a good ambassador to your own country as it is to look at another country and its many diverse people with as much fairness as you can muster—even if you (me)would really rather punch the taxi driver (I reported him instead).

As I finally post this (wireless internet is not easy to come by even in the Oz), I’m sitting in a hotel lobby in Darwin in the northern territory, and heading back to the airport in an hour to catch an “overnight” flight (3 hours plus a time change) to Singapore and begin my adventures in Southeast Asia. I am beyond excited! NZ and the Oz have been a great experience but I’ve had my fill of fish n’ chips and I’m ready for some cheap and delicious noodles. I am quite nervous about re-entering a world of sights, sounds, and smells that are utterly foreign, but also very much looking forward to exploring a part of the world that has always seemed so fascinating from afar, that combined with the fact that I could eat Thai and Vietnamese everyday! I don’t have a set plan, just a hazy layout of desired destinations: Malaysia, Thailand, Cambodia, Laos, Vietnam, along the border of Southern China, and Hong Kong. Here’s to figuring it out as I go—did I mention I’m all alone? Yikes and Cheers!

At One With Nature...

http://migrate08.wordpress.com/2008/03/02/at-one-with-nature/