Semi-Organised

Finally, I've got my flights booked. Arriving in Paris on the orning of the 7th of December. Yay! Home! Home being anywhere in Europe.

Also, I got my camera back form being repaired today.
Again.
Yay! Working camera. And there was much rejoicing.

Now the bad news

I just got an e-mail from the casting agent in Chiang Mai, near where Pinkerville will be shot. Due the the Writers Guild of America Strike, the Oliver Stone film I was going to play an American soldier in (not a major role) has been postponed indefinitely. No pinkerville for me, or toys. sniff. I was looking forward to keeping the costume.

Vang Vieng

Tubing. That's what Vang Vieng is all about. And that's what We couldn't do because it was too cold! It was hilarious. I loved it. The grey skies and constant drissle reminded me of home and were very refreshing, but I think I was alone with those feelings.

All the guide books go on about Bars showing Friends all day every day, and it's not something you can really beleive until you see it. But there they are, bars full of travellers, staring vacantly at screens, and that bloody annoying, and misplaced, laughter track. I'm not a fan of the show.

Having said that, the system works really well. People are out late most nights, and are too tired during the day to really do anything that requires higher brain functions. So the bars fit in perfectly. There's even an "Irish Bar". Unoffially. Irish in that it's full of Irish people, not because of any name or regalia. The reason? Unlike all the other bars, it shows "Family Guy" constantly.

The third day came, and we had decided that rain or shine we were hitting the water. Luckily there was shine! And plenty of swings out into the centre of the river with 20m+ drops to keep me aching the next day. Oh yeah, and the next day? A kayaking trip down the river to the capital, Vientiane. We got tossed into the water on two of the white water rapids.
All part of the fun.

Plain of Jars

The logic was that although I was the only one without a licence, I still had the most experience driving "manual", or anything close to a 1970s Jeep. Result: Jeeps on dirt roads are cool. I didn't even make it roll!

There was only one point I wasn't so sure of myself; when our guide, Khong, took a little too long to answer the question "This road has been cleared of mines, right?"

No one really knows why the jars were built, but the assumption is that they were used as giant funeral Urns. Walking around, I kept on thinking of how much the place reminded me of the fields full of Megalithic tombs in southern Sligo.

If they were in the middle of 100s of thousands of Unexploded Ordinance (UXOs) The Mines Advisory Group, partly funded by Irish Aid, is working to clear the area so it can get World Heritage status. But as Laos is the most heavily bombed country in History, this is going to take some time. I did learn from our guide, Mr. Khong, that American Cluster bomb casings do make excellent BBQ Grills, horse feeds, House stilts, and Aqueducts. Provided they don't first blow up in your face when you move them. And his final bit of insight: In Laos, the rich don't go to jail, and the poor don't go to hospital.

Until then, DO NOT WALK OUTSIDE OF THE WHITE MARKERS.

It started to pour rain half way through the day, so we didn't stay long, and the others hid in the relative shelter on the other side of this monster.

"This is not the dog's bollox, this is just bollox". Khong said, while also also claiming that it wasn't raining, but just mist. Definitely, if you vist the area, he is one character that will make your trip.

Even when we were stuck by the side of the road for a half hour after the lady at the petrol station poured Diesel into the Petrol jeeps tank, we were still having fun.

Draining an engine: A life skill.

Got back into Phonsavan for the last bus for Vang Vieng, and the town's speciality, bbq Swallow.
Tastes like Liver.

I hate Liver.

Luang Prabang

We took the slow boat from the Thai Border town of Chiang Kong / Huay Xai for two days down the muddy Mekong to the beautiful city of Luang Prabang.

It's the kind of place that sucks you in and forces you to relax, no matter how tightly wound you are. We arrived on a Sunday, and the Festival would be the following Saturday. In between, take in some Wats, and hang out with some monks, giving plenty of English, French, and even Japanese conversation classes. Internationalisation at a grass roots level: Once a Jet, well, you know how it goes.

I enjoyed the two day slow boat, not least because of the "Slow Boat Family" that forms on board. The result is that when you get to Luang Prabang, you've got a very large number of people you already know fairly well to hang out with. It made a nice change from the solo traveling I've been mostly doing.
Of course, it wasn't long until i heard a familair accent. There's Cillian and I on our trusty steeds, taking on the mudiest tracks around. Go on ye good thing!

I didn't really do a hell of a lot there though as for three nights in a row I wasn't sleeping properly. It wasn't full on insomnia, but it did make me feel like a zombie during the first half of the week, and barely able to even read the notices outside the temples, or really take anything in. Another backpacker gave me some Melotonin, which helped a litttle, and then the pharmacy gave me something that saved the week for me. I was sleeping well, and feeling alive for the first time in days. The tablets had some generic name on them, which I later learned had the same main ingredient as Valium. Oh dear...


It did mean I was able to get up for the Alms giving each morning. The monks and novices filed out of their temples from half 5 each morning to collect their food for the day from the faithful. Women and children lined the streets around the temples, waiting to give their offerings of sticky rice and biscuits. Women and Children. The other thing that struck me about Luang Prabang was the women. From before sunrise to well after sunset, I saw them on the streets, manning their stalls, every day. It seems that here, the women do all of the work, and it's not easy.

There are a ridiculous number of photos form Luang Prabang here, most with comments giving more detail than this post.


After a week or "relaxing", and wandering, and impromptu teaching, finally came the end of Buddhist lent.

There are some more photos of the night itself up here.

Then, a final farewell to those of the Slow boat famil who were still around, and off with some new partners in grime the South.

Thai

Bangkok hasn't changed so much.

I wandered around meeting people, from the toothless old canal fisherman to the high flyer who spent more on one drink than I did in a whole day.

There was an evening in the local park translating between a Thai juggler and 3 Japanese students learning poi, in between practicing handstands and doing some Brazilian dance martal art (Cappella? Capoeira?).

There was lots of eating great food.

Dancing with a horny Indian on his first ever holiday.

And all topped off with learning more about the historical Buddha.

Finally, Laos Visa in hand, I arrived early in the morning in Chiang Mai after not sleeping very well on the train. The bunk was not David sized. I planned on leaving that afternoon for the Laos border, but thought it better to get a decent night's sleep first. This turned into 5 nights after finding first a cookery, and then a massage course.

Despite the look on her face, my Japanese partner / victim is REALLY enjoying the head massage. Honest!

Timmy, our teacher was amazing. Someone has already wrote a little bit about her here so if you are going to Chiang Mai, I highly recommend looking her up.

Oh, and the Sunday Market is much better than the Night market, and is enormous.

All of the photos form Thailand can be found here.

This is one of the many signs posted on the trees around the main Temple in Chinag Mai, as teaching aids for the novice moonks. You can wander around their garden, taking in some of the Dhamma, feeling the serenity from the trees, or go here for photos of the rest of the signs.

Craggy

I've almost been this scared before; climbing wall in UCD. But here, the feeling is FAR greater.

It's when I'm holding on with both hands, unable to reach for a better grip because I know my other hand doesn't have the strength left to hold me on its own. Then I feel the strength quickly seeping away until I know I can't hug the rock any longer. Palms sweaty, I always make one last reach, and fall.

There I am, completely knackered, and the view across the bay. Railay Beach, Krabi, Thailand

There are a couple of other photos from Kabi, mostly from a half day I spent with a horse riding company there. I had my camera so I offered to take some shots for them to use on their new website and flyers. That was fine, but they also wanted some of me, as a tourist, with the horses. We went for an hour long ride on the beach, and I practiced a host of cheesy grins.

Then on, and the night train to Bangkok.

Leaving Malaysia

At last!

To say that I am behind schedule would be a bit of an understatement. I think it's safe to say that I will not be coming home by rail from Beijing now... Hopefully onto Hong Kong by December and home from there. Well, back to Europe at least. I still intend to hang out with Marielle and Francisco in Paris, and what increasingly seems like half of Dublin in London (Well, the two people who read this most at least).

Right now, I'm on Penang, in Georgetown to be precise, but not for the beaches or sightseeing or anything like that. For the bus to Krabi. I've heard there is good rock climbing there.

I should be honest; this is the only post on this blog with the real date. Everything else was posted tonight, although some were half written earlier. I've posted them with he dates when the events took place to keep everything in order.

I'll sign off with a picture from the largest Buddhist temple in Malaysia.

A scene reminiscent of my teaching in Koyasan, deer, attentive students and all!

Kuala Lumpur

You'd think I had had enough of this place after spending almost a week here waiting for my camera to be repaired. It's not the place though, it's the people. And it's becoming the refrain of the trip. On the bus back from Melaka, I got some text messages from two of the couchsurfers I had hung out with there, TJ and Shah. There was a CS meet up, breaking fast together in KL. Was I interested? Food? Eating? Silly question.

We were there for at least four hours before we started to drip away, and then began the second party. First to the Petronas Towers where a protest in support of the Burmese people was supposed to be taking place. No one there, but then again, we were 3 hours late. Then on to what Shah and I seem to do best: Random driving around Kuala Lumpur, getting hopelessly lost, and enjoying every minute of it. I think the others enjoyed it as well.... maybe...

Melaka

The people, not the place. Don't get me wrong, Melaka was a great place to wander, lots of museums, some historical sites. Actually, lots of Historical sites. But my memories are of the food, and the people I ate it with. I met up with Paul, a CS lecturer at the local University, and with a Law Student, Yin May, the next day. Paul was on his way to a pot luck party and invited me along. I didn't have to bring or cook anything, but if I could show them how to make something, his friends would love it.

"Hhhhmmm... Do they have an oven?"
"Yes, Of Course."
SPUDS!

There was no oven. Just a regular microwave. No need to worry. Enter the magic of international SMS. A few messages from Dad later, and they were ready to go. Baked Potatoes with Cheese and Garlic-y Buttery goodness. I could taste the difference, microwave instead of a proper oven, but everyone else loved 'em! Then up into the night playing "Bullshit" and other highly mature card games.
Next day, I met Yin May, who introduced me to a type of desert that could easily become my staple food stuff. I was surprised when she knew the phrase "taking the piss" and then discovered that Celia Bloody Larkin is a bestseller in Malaysia. So, there you go. Malaysians are very capable of locating little Ireland on a map, thanks to the combined forces of Celia Larkin and Westlife.

"I have a dream, I cross the stream."
Feck Off!

Photos of Melaka are here.

Singapore Sling

Thursday 26th September to Tuesday 2nd October.

Singapore consisted of sleeping, dropping peanut shells all over the floor of a very expensive Hotel bar, and a day at the Zoo. That leaves a lot of time unaccounted for. Hmmm Well, there was an awful lot of wandering around, hanging out with with local couchsurfers. More photos here.And there was also LOTS of eating! Hawker stalls everywhere, and a David sized appetite to satiate. It's what the locals do, and when in Rome.
Any excuse.
I went a bit nuts with the camera at the zoo. It had just been repaired and I wanted to know for sure that it was working. So, there are loads more animal photos here. I'm sure Sarah will be happy.

Notes from Kuala Lumpur

Thursday: The Monorail is the best way to see the city at night.

Friday: I'm watching a Magic show in a Chinese Temple.

New Tang Dynasty TV interviewed me about the Mooncake Festival and lantern and Dragon parade. I'm big in the PRC

"NTDTV, Jong Ju Chie Qwy Law* from Kuala Lumpur!"

*Happy mooncake Festival!

I'm crap at Mandarin tones.

In the market I feel so wanted and popular. Everyone wants to be my friend...

Saturday Night: "You have beautiful Blue eyes".
And you have a beautiful Adam's Apple.
Should have guessed from the name "Thai Bar".

Sunday: I don't need a laptop, I don't I don't!
I already have a laptop, I do I do!

Couchsurfing is great. If I hadn't met met Tj, Celine, Frank and Shah, Kuala Lumpur would not be nearly as good.

Must NOT buy any ridiculously cheap VERY shiny electronics!

Kuching

Monday 17th to Thursday 20th September 2007

They take the "Cat City" thing pretty seriously in Kuching. All of the roundabouts have statues of Giant Cats, that look like they are about to jump out and try to take over the city. And a lot of people don't even think that's how it's supposed to be translated!

Apart from the cats, there were two main attractions to keep me busy while I waited to fly to Kuala Lumpur. One was the largest flower in the world.

it's supposed to smell like a decomposing corpse to attract flies...

The other was an Orang Utang Rehabilitation centre

I'd been to the larger one in Sabah with Erin, but was happy to go to and support this one with my entrance fee.

There wouldn't have been that much else to see there, but I happened to arrive at the beginning of the Chinese Moon Cake Festival.

Good stuff lads! Thanks for timing it so well.

More photos can be found here

Brunei

Friday 14th to Monday 17th September 2007

Rhokia and Charles had warned me: Brunei is incredibly dull. Luckily for me though, I wasn't there alone. Casey reminded me of couchsurfing.

I was back in Miri, and not feeling the best. Spending a month traveling with Erin had done it. It was the first time I had traveled with someone full time, instead of just meeting people for some of the way, and it had been AMAZING. So good in fact, that I wondered if I really wanted to keep going on my own. I would have seriously considered going home were it not for a phone call to a fellow Jet. It was the kick I needed. The next day I crossed the border into Brunei, met up with another couchsurfer, and had an absolute blast.

Brunei really is quite boring, but watching the Bourne Ultimatum with my host, and drinking fabulous red wine, made it worth while. Oh yeah, and the hitchhiking

"This is my Mom, she doesn't speak any English."
"Oh okay."
"Do you have a girlfriend in Brunei?"
"Em, no, I don't..."
"I could be your girlfriend in Brunei"
Eye opening.

For some more photos, click here.

Bario

2nd to the 12th September 2007

I met Nancy at the airport with a young French couple and Dutch girl. I’d forgotten that she had said she’d be on the flight when I met her a few days before. The others hadn’t really organised accommodation, so we all decided to stay at her place. We got on the tiny plane, and Sebastien immediately started to sweat. He doesn’t like small planes, and the sight of Nancy opening a Bible for some light reading just as the turbulence was at its worst did not help!

I was enjoying the view, when it happened. I had my camera ready, had the view in sight, and then nothing.

The top of the camera just flashed Err99.

It had been working perfectly that morning, and now, as soon as I had left the tiny city of Miri, with it’s malls, and camera shops, it stopped working. Actually, not only had it stopped working, but I had just received the Canon version of the "Blue Screen of Death".

I spent a day trying to figure it out, swopping parts back and forth with the Dutch girl who had just bought a smaller Canon. It was the lens. Using the one payphone (A satellite phone it turns out) I called the Canon agents, and realised I had to wait until I got to Kuala Lumpur or Singapore before I could get it checked out. I got it to work on some of the fully manual settings, but the aperture is now locked in place at the highest degree, so enough light is only reaching the sensor on the brightest of days. Even then, sometimes it just doesn't work.

Luckily I had a two year old disposable camera with me as a back up. Apart from that mini personal disaster, Bario was great. The four of us went by the “road” during the day to another village, stayed at a homestay, where the Diesel generator seemed to be switched on more for the personal karaoke machine that the lights. A load of people from the other houses came around after dinner. Not to see us though, but to watch Pirates of the Carribbean 3.

Sebastien didn’t feel comfortable with English, which was great practice for me! We had an English-free zone for a few days with French and some very feeble attempts to speak the local Kelabit language.

The way back to Bario was through the jungle proper with the son of our host as our guide. Leeches suck. And there were lots of them. And cursing in French at the blood sucking bastards is entirely more satisfying. The French couple and Dutch girl left, and I stayed close to Barrio for a while, trying to sort out the camera, wandering around the area, and hiding from the rain in a shed with the migrant rice pickers from Indonesia
Then on to Indonesia!

You probably can't make it out, but that's the border marker there between Petrus and I.
I wasn't going to do it. I was cursing my decision not to bring my boots (The ones I "borrowed from Dad 5 years ago") but there was only one way to find out if it would be possible with runners, and within an hour of setting out it didn't matter anymore.

I met Petrus at Nancy's house, when we got back form the other village. It was his house we had stayed in, and he had recently just brought a group of English Gap year kids to Kalimantan, the Indonesian state on Borneo, so I asked him if he'd like to go again. We had just left his village when we reached the first stream, and the water came up to my knees. I looked down at my shoes, at the water above where the top of my boots would have been, and sighed.

We met two teachers from Brunei, and Englishman named Charles and a local named Rhokia, and got them to join us when their own plans were washed out by the rain, camped out in the jungle one night, and spent another above a shop in Kalimantan. Then back across the border,


and on to Ba Kelalan, where I thought I would be heading back to Miri right away.

Instead, I got to talking with some people on a confidence building mission with the International Tropical Timber Organisation. When they saw how interested I was, they invited me to join them back in Bario, and when we arrived, everyone thought I was a member of the NGO. There was a reception, Pineapples, flowers, dancing, music, the works!
I seem to have shown some knowledge in Micro-hydro power, so now I have to see how feasible 14 generators would be for the outlying villages. It's all part of their confidence building measures. The logging company is promising a road to this isolated community. That would greatly reduce the price of everything that is now currently flown in. The community is split 50 50 on whether to allow the logging. A couple of generators might tip it the right way.

For loads more photos, Click here.

Miri

I'm in Miri for now waiting for one of the semi-regular flights in tiny twin otter planes, that frequently get cancelled due to the weather: Apparently it rains quite often, and heavily, in the rainforest. Or so they claim...

After Erin left Kota Kinabalu, it became clear that if I wanted to get to Bario any time soon, I would have to go from Miri in Sarawak. The flights from Kota Kinabalu are even less reliable. So onward to Miri, just on the other side of Brunei from KK. Malaysia was celebrating it’s 50th year of Independence (One Brit commented “It doesn’t count if we gave it back without a fight”) and Miri was to be the focal point of celebrations in the State of Sarawak, so I didn’t mind so much that I would have to stay there for a few days waiting for my flight.

I was very curious about what the party would be like. In Sabah, there was a suspiciously large number of flags everywhere. It seemed that they were the result of a government campaign, rather than an outpouring of nationalistic fervour. This seemed more plausible after conversations with the locals, all of whom were unhappy with the way the government operated, and many of whom felt there was nothing to celebrate: being a part of Malaysia was not what the people in Sabah I spoke with considered “independence”. Culturally, they felt very distant from their Muslim King.

In Miri then by contrast, I first noticed the relative lack of flags. But the boys going around town on their scooters, horns blaring out tunes, made me hopeful for some kind of party atmosphere. So as the clock counted down the hours to midnight, I joined the crowds gathering at the town's open air amphitheatre where a stage was set up.


I was very surprised. Everyone seemed to be waiting around, very bored, as different acts took to the stage. I heard the MC starting to chant “Merdeka!” (Independence!) at the top of his lungs, but the response he hoped for never came. The first four rows cried back, and no one else. Maybe everyone else was just trying to act cool.

Then the Prime Minister arrived, apparently. I was told by a local that he was walking beside me, but I couldn’t figure out which of the men in colourful shirts he was supposed to be. A security was, well, they let ME walk beside him. Come on guys! I lived in japan. Clearly I'm a Ninja!

Everyone else from the Hostel decided to call it a night, but I stayed out until the fireworks at midnight, which turned out to be a damp squid. Back to the Hostel I went, a little deflated, and feeling very sorry for the MC.

Updates

I think I've finally got this thing up to date. Good thing too, considering that I'm heading to Bario tomorrow. I've booked a one way ticket, adn the date of my return, and thus more updates, depends on the weather. If you're reading this, and think it a bit sparse, I've put comments on most of the photographs here so going through those will probably be more interesting than reading these posts.

And that goes for the older posts such as the Naked man festival and India.

Mom and Dad, You can get to those by clicking "older posts" link at the very bottom of this page. Start at the bottom then and make your way up. Then click back at the top left of the screen. If that doesn't work, click on these links for the main posts.

India1
India2
Naked Man
Fish Market
Nachi Fire festival

or click on this link to see the albums

http://picasaweb.google.com/DavidlMorrison/

More Toitles!

On Monday we took the same bus back to Sandakan that we had taken down, and just like before, it broke down. The cabin once more filled with steam from the radiator, and we pulled over to hose down the bus. I think they have it factored into the time table at this point.

The next morning we headed for the protected Turtle nesting grounds off the coast. The island serves as a hatchery for both Green Turtles and Hawksbills, so there are turtles crawling onto the beaches year round. Luckily for them, there is a curfew on tourists being allowed onto the beaches after sun down.

We sat in the office for a few hours that night until the Ranger spotted a nesting mother, and then went out to watch as the eggs were collected and deposited in the hatchery. Then back to the beach to let loose that night's hatchlings.

We got up at 5 next morning to watch the sunrise over the Ocean, and found two Green turtles blocking our path. Keeping a respectful distance, made a wide arc around them, and watched as they dragged themselves back to the more comfortable seas.

It was back to Kota Kinablu then to do sweet f-all, and relax. That was the plan, but instead we trekked through the rainforest on the island some shite show called Survivor was filmed on, and had a bath in the mud volcanoe. That was actualy quite nice. Not as warm as you'd think though. Erin's flight back to Tokyo was at midnight on Sunday, so left the island early that morning and spent the day in Kota Kinabalu stocking up on bras, as they had a good brand on sale there, and the ones in Japan are shit quality, apparently.

Click here for some photos of the hatchlings, amongst other things.

Sipidan

We'd heard so much about this island. From some that it's one of the top 5 dive sites in the world, and from others that it's on of the top 10. Either way, it was the best diving I've ever done. We spent a week in the town of Semporna with Scuab Junkies, taking the boat out every day, and coming back knackered every evening. It was brilliant!

Erin did her open water course, while I did the Advanced course, and we met up on the fourth day as dive buddies.

The other sites had more life than I hgad seen before, even in Thaialnd, but it was at Sipidan that I was blown away by the sheer density of aquatic life. In every direction there were fishes darting in and out of the coral, with Turtles joining the scene, gliding gracefully above.

As I looked over to the side, I think everyone could hear me exclaim as I saw my first shark in the gloom.

But there were more to come. Sipidan was an incredible diving experience. I could go on and on about everythign we saw. Instead, click here if you want to see more.

Are you America's next top model?

"No, I'm sorry, I'm not. Are you Malaysia's next top model?"

"Emmmm... Yes, I am!"

And so the interrogation from the teenage girls continued.

That was Saturday night and and we were staying with a family in a small village of Orang Sungei, "People of the River", who of course, as well as boats, also had dodgy satellite dishes. Electricity was for two hours a day though in certain buildings. Our main guides were some local kids with ridiculously good English who put on a show for us that night.

The "traditional" dance, was only as old as Malaysian state and I assumed it would be some type of plastic tourist show, so I was pleasantly surprised to see the boys and their friends in front of us on the jetty making mistakes, forgetting their steps: clearly just having some fun.

We arrived at that village from further up the Kinabatangan river, after spending 4 wonderful days at Uncle Tans jungle camp. Resort it is not, but I found the presence of a mat on a raised wooden surface, a mosquito net, and something resembling a Chinese prison cell as accommodation, to be far more luxurious that what I had prepared myself for. And the cacophony at night to be very soothing.

That place is wonderful. The local lads who work as guides all have some mild levels of insanity, with an infectious enthusiasm. They organise treks through the jungle at night and during the day, and rides of dinky boats up and down the river in the morning, afternoon, and after dark, where all the cool kids in the wildlife world hang out. Erin and I were lucky every time we went out and the amount of wildlife we saw was almost overwhelming.
Orang Utangs: We saw them up close at the Sepilok Rehabilitation Centre (they do good work, the centre that is...) but, of course, seeing a Mother and juvenile eating in the trees right above your head is a different story. Probiscus Monkeys, Long Tailed Macaques invading the camp at all hours trying to steal...everything! Horn-Bills, Kingfishers aaaaannnndddd CROCS! Yeah! They really do look a hell of a lot like logs...

Before heading back to the city, we stoppped off at the Gumantang Caves, and saw where the Bird's nests are harvested (now controlled with quotas) for Bird's Nest soup. Apparently the nest is made from some kind of scum that lies on the surface of the river. It's supposed to taste very good. I'll have to let you know later...

Important information I learned in the Malaysian Rain forest:

The most expensive coffee beans in the world are those that are first eaten by the nocturnal, and very rare, Civet cat, shat out, and THEN collected by the Coffee bean.....farmers...

Adult Male Orang-Utangs look very happy when they are peeing from trees onto unsuspecting trekkers and have ENORMOUS bladders. Mountains of Guano smell like... spores... Best not to breathe too deeply.

Tarantulas eat their young if they can't get a bird.

Long tailed Macaques are loveable BASTARDS who will one day figure out how to take a photo with the digital cameras they steal before they smash them on the ground. Some also have an unfortunate coke habit

Irish people are everywhere: I met two people from DCU who knew Ailbhe, Ross, Bernard, etc. etc. Bloody hell.

Oh, and I had great fun surprising Casey. We'd talked about our travel plans before leaving Japan, and realising how similar they were assumed that we'd just bump into each other in Laos or somewhere along the line. There she was walking towards me through the forest, and as she passed,

"Hi Casey"

"OH MY GOD!"

Yeah, I wonder who else is arsing around this corner of the world.

Click here to see the rest of the pictures, mine and Erin's.

On more serious note. The trip down the river was also a great eye opener into the destruction caused by Palm Oil. It was horrible. From any elevated position on Borneo, for as far as the eye can see, Palm Oil plantations have replaced the rainforest. I spent a lot of my time with the locals asking them about their thoughts on the plantations. The opinions were universal. Corporations are granted concessions to transform Virgin rainforest into plantations. Local people do not benefit economically from the plantations, and in fact their livelihoods suffer as fish stocks are depleted as general river health worsens, and much valued revenue from Eco-tourism fades. And the effect it has on other wildlife is even worse. Orang Utangs WILL be extinct in the wild within two decades at most because of the use of Palm Oil products to wash hands, instead of soup. The Rhino will be extinct in even less time as all attempts to breed them in captivity have failed. The list goes on and on, and is even worse in Indonesian Borneo. Google Earth it.

Palm Oil is not a sustainable biofuel, and will not help in cutting CO2 emmissions. Promoting the vast destruction of rainforest, and with it destruction of habitat, will only decrease biodiversity, increase CO2 levels over all, and destroy possibilities for sustainable economic growth in these developing countries. Like many other things, deciding whether to promote this or not begins at the Supermarket.

Mt. Kinabalu

I arrived in Sabah from Osaka on Friday afternoon, and met Erin who had arrived the day before. We had a nice look around the capital, Kota Kinabalu, and a nearby island, but were there for somethign else. We wanted to take on Mt. Kinabalu. Fuji was 3775m, and this was 4095m, so no worries. Well, maybe one. We didn't have accomadation booked at the final way point, and staying there is mandatory. Climbers rest for a few hours, and then tackle the summit that night to arrive just before sunrise.

We spent a day looking around the park at the base, which was had a really nice Botanical garden, and got permission from the ranger to climb to the final way point with the condition that if there was not even floor space for us, we would come back down. We agreed, and off we went with our guide (mandatory), a cheery local young man who much preferred getting paid to chat with us while exercising than working in a factory in Singapore.

On the way up, we were passed by a japanese woman in trainign for the race taking place the next week. She passed us again on her way back down before we had even made the station. The porters also put us to shame, carrying what looked like appliances on their backs!

We arrived at the final way point, but no joy. Even all of the floor space had been taken up, so it looked like we would have to go back down without reaching the summit.

Off we went, thiundering up the mountain, before our lungs reminded us that the air was a good bit thinner...

The dealine came and went, our guide was waiting behind, so onward and upward with two random Malay guys who trying the same thing. We got to the top and had the tiny summit all to ourselves. I took out my flute to celebrate by playing "Mary had a little lamb", but it was not to be. No matter how hard I blew, I couldn't get enough air through the flute to make the tiniest of sounds.

All the practice for nought. Should have taken up the violin...

With the sun swiftly setting, we raced down the mountain, getting past the second ranger station before dark. Out came the headlamps, and on came the sore knees. Our legs were in bits for the whole of the next week!

Click here to see more photos.

Last Random Snaphot

Sniff.

The final collecion of random photos that I've taken with my Mobile Phone, forgotten about, and then discovered on it's memory card months later. Click here for more.

Packing

It's getting late, and I'm going through a going through a very special old box in my apartment: a box of letters. I spent some time sitting on my couch re-reading them, some sent almost 2 years ago. I'm glad I did. I wasn't sure what I should keep, but I know I must keep them all.

At the impersonal level, if someone should ever care to write something about me, they would be an invaluable source. Far more informative than any e-mail, many of them have that feeling of intimacy that only a pen scratching into paper can reveal.

At the personal level, they are gateways to memories of old emotions. Emotions felt again, fleetingly, as I'm transported back to their time. I don't forget what happened after, or how those emotions changed, but that does not stop me from enjoying them for that moment. And so, I shall keep them all, adding to their box as the years pass, and reading them again when I'm feeling forgetful.

How they live in To-ki-yo

The 20th of July was my last proper day of work, giving me nearly two weeks before I headed off of Malaysia. What to do? Time to see those sites in Tokyo I kept missing. Before that was Shirahama for Pete's final House Party before heading home to NY. Three years of living in a massive house near Shirahama Beach had made it the ideal location, and now that chapter was coming to a close.

The next day I headed to the beach again to go underwater. It had been almost a year since I had dived, and I needed to get back in the water to refresh my memory before starting any advanced courses. Nothing much to see, bad conditions, but I felt a lot more confident about the coming trip.

Onward to Tokyo for some sightseeing with Erin. And to pick up a supply of crazy Malaria pills for the next few months: The Head of the International Clinic was a brilliant octogenarian Russian who entertained me tales of patients gone by, mostly musicians passing through the Hotels, and thought more of his photo of himself and Michael Jackson than he did of the one with Jacques Chirac.

The Tsukiji fish market is massive, serves the Tokyo area, and is best seen in all is chaotic glory just after the sun rise. We chanced our arm on New Years Day, and of course it was closed, so this time we sleep in he cheapest option in Tokyo (A very comfortable "love hotel"{charges by the hour}) and made our bleary-eyed way there.

It wasn't as crazy as I had hoped, but by Japanese standards, it made a good attempt.

I enjoyed wandering through it, seeing the different stages my Maguro goes through before entering my belly.

Then on to the justifiably controversial Yasukini War Shrine.

I'd heard so many terrible tales of how the Shrine blatantly lies about atrocities committed by he Japanese forces in China and elsewhere, I felt I needed to see it for myself before I could really believe it. I was angry. But not near as angry as a Korean may feel. I told the Vice-principal in my main school of my plans the week before. His reply was "Most Japanese don't like that place." Fortunately that seems true. Unfortunately, the Government and Department of Education don't fall into that category.

More from the fish market and Shrine here.