Few people know that the Philippines has more English speakers than the United Kingdom. Many people know that Filipinos speak English, many people know that they speak Filipino/Tagalog as well in the Philippines–but what a lot of people don’t know is the extent that English is spoken. In Japan, as well as many other countries in Asia, English is used to puncuate or emphasize something like… “Aki no Trendy Style!” (Trendy styles for Fall) In the Philippines, they’d just flat out say “Trendy styles for the fall,”. I remember Japanese people being amazed when I told them that Filipino TV was 90% in English. To the Japanese, English is a language for Caucasian Westerners–nevermind the fact Singaporeans, Hong Kongers, Indians and Filipinos all speak English.

I remember on a trip to the Philippines one of my friends was stunned that street children could speak better English than the high school students she taught in Japan. How does that happen, we wondered? Well, it’s easy. They just use it. TV shows are often in English, not subtitled or dubbed. If they’re not fully in English, a good part of it will be. Especially if the show is about something technical like medicine or law. Hugh often understood the gist of what was going on around him simply due to liberal use of English.

Other examples? During a Filipino wedding, all the prayers and songs were in English, the priest’s sermon was also in English. During the reception, all speeches were in English despite the fact that out of the 500 guests only 5 people in the room didn’t understand Tagalog.  You would never see this stuff in Japan–not that this is the way it should be. Language is important for cultural identity, and the loss of language is something which I consider very sad. I found out that several of my cousins CANNOT speak Tagalog despite being born and raised in the Philippines. I find that very odd.

Yet, the question of how should Japanese people learn English continues to bother me. The only real way to make sure people learn it is to make it a requirement, more so than just something kids have to do to pass a test to graduate high school.

Chick on a stick...not actually very tasty.

While in the Philippines, my cousins and uncles have been trying endlessly to gross out Hugh with “exotic” Filipino food. I think this is a pretty common practice around the world, where rather than be embarassed about some local delicacies, most people consider Americans (and its usually Americans who are so grossed out by foreign delicacies) to just have boring diets. And honestly–with our health, who are we to be grossed out by what people eat? I’ve come to consider the giant bowls of fat they serve at restaurants back home to be pretty foul.

However, Hugh’s a pretty adventurous eater so he always ends up grossing people out in their attempts. In Japan we/he sampled such delicacies as: bees, sake with a dead snake coiled in it, raw horse meat, not to mention many of the more normal things like seaweeds and shellfish that some people would find repulsive. In Laos, we tried silkworms and water buffalo. I’ve had turtle-shell jelly in China and Taco Bell in America. It isn’t about trying to gross each other out, or be adventurous or anything. There are certain things we won’t do–I won’t eat anything killed before my eyes (like the snakes and their beating hearts in Vietnam) which are often done just to be grotesque for tourists and not because the majority of the population eats it. But we figure that if people in a culture eat this sort of food, then it’s certainly worth trying. At worst, just don’t eat it again. It PROBABLY won’t kill you. We rolled our eyes at tourists in Laos who would go on and on about how horrible it was that Laotians ate certain things (civet cats, random wildlife, birds), never realizing that certainly certain groups of people think the Western diet of beef is possibly horrible, or that Laotians are poor and hunting game in the forest isn’t about sport, but about survival.

Food is all very cultural anyways. I never grew up on fancy cheese (many Asians don’t) and as a result, I often find the cheeses that my European friends love smell and taste like vomit, or worse. I mean really, do you know WHY blue cheese has blue flecks in it? My point is–blood pudding or dog meat or whatever. Food is food.

Saddam Hussein pizza?!

In the Philippines there are delicacies such as dinaguan, a stew made of pigs’ blood, which isn’t really that strange to some cultures who eat blood puddings or marrow, but most infamous with non-Filipinos is balut, which is chicken embryo.

Somehow though, Hugh managed to finally put my family’s taunts to rest when he ate a day-old chick which are served whole on a stick and meant to be eaten as such–bones, innards, head, feet and all. My uncle who will eat balut seemed positively disgusted by the fact we ate it, though you could joke and call it overripe balut. My cousin Jean made him do it and he heroically did so, announcing “tastes yolky!” as he did so.

Ceremony in a lovely old church

We officially arrived in the Philippines on the 26th, worn-out and suffering from food poisoning (well, me at least.) However, after a few days of rest we were able to attend my cousin’s wedding. Although I’m ethnically Filipino, I was born and raised in the United States and had only attended one Filipino wedding prior to this one (and that one was sort of a blend of traditions since it was of a Filipina-American friend.)

The church ceremony was Catholic, but with so much pomp and circumstance that I’m surprised more people in America haven’t taken some of the traditions. First there were the dozen sponsors for the bridal party, then there were all the offerings. It wasn’t just wedding rings being brought up by a young boy, but also a bible. I had to fill in for a sick cousin, my role? I was to place a cord/giant rosary over the couple to symbolize them being joined together, but that was already after a veil was placed over them. Despite the ceremony, the church was surprisingly loud and chipper–some weddings I’ve attended have almost felt like funerals since they were so quiet, solemn, and often filled with crying people. Instead there were children running around, people gossiping to themselves, the doors and windows thrown wide open to keep the church from being stifling.

Men dressed in barong tagalog--a traditional formal dress shirt made of pineapple fiber

After the church ceremony, the reception was held at the Peninsula Hotel Manila where there was live music, professional dancers to keep the party moving, and a very international buffet with prime rib and other things like that. What was most amazing was the cost: a wedding in an centuries old church, a reception in a 5 star hotel, live band, custom made dress, 5 tier cake, and 500 guests cost approximately 1/10th of what it would cost in America. My family joked, “have the wedding here, just fly everyone over and you’ve still saved money!” What’s sad about that is that it’s completely true. :/

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The shrimp burns! AHH!

As soon as we crossed the Thai border it was so strange, it was…so obviously Thailand. All of a sudden, the roads were nicer, everyone owned a new car (actually, the fact we even saw cars was unusual), there were powerlines in the sky, advertisements, billboards, internet on every corner. It’s so odd that crossing a river can seem like entering another world.

The travel group we created all headed to the bus station: we all had different destinations in mind, half were off to Chiang Mai and the other to Chiang Rai. Yet at the last minute, all 6 of us ended up going to Chiang Rai. But not before a couple of people (Hugh included) raced out to the 7-11 to buy giant Coca-Cola slurpees. Mock us if you must, tell us we’re not hardcore travelers–we don’t care, it was delicious. =P

The sky smiles down on us. People all over where pointing and laughing at the unusual sight on Dec 1

As luck would have it, the guesthouse we had previously chosen had enough room for the 4 of us who remained in Chiang Rai (me, Hugh, Midori, and Jaja.) Later we had dinner at the Chiang Rai nightmarket–we all each bought a dish to share and in the end it added up to about $2 each. And we ate very well. It just seemed like we were being rewarded for our travels that we did without whining or getting mad at each other. Even the sky seemed to be laughing with us.

Our plans now are in flux as we didn’t really intend on having to be in Thailand for so long, but more and more a small trip to Myanmar is sounding very intriguing….

A local shop selling and making laolao aka rice whiskey

Last night’s accomodation can be best described, at best as “basic” at worst as “dismal.” As we unloaded off the boat, we were bombarded with touts who wanted to bring us to their insanely overpriced guest-houses. The one Hugh and I finally settled on is probably the most basic one we have ever stayed at, thus giving us a new thresh-hold of pain we can withstand: the bed was rock-hard, though it did kindly have a mosquito net rigged up above it. The toilet, though western-style, had to be flushed by pouring water down it. The hot shower was down the hall.

None of this would have really been bad except for the fact the rooms were basically jerry-rigged out of pieces of corrugated steel. We could hear conversations happening clearly in rooms all around us and the room was freezing. The power went out at 9pm, but that didn’t matter as Hugh and I were already shivering ourselves to sleep while fully dressed. On the positive side: Mama Souk who ran the place was a very industrious, energetic, hilarious woman. (ie: we were trying in vain to get her to pronounce Hugh’s name, which is notoriously difficult for Asians to pronounce. She kept saying “Cue, cue!” so finally I said, “No, Hugh–you know, like the actor? Hugh Grant?” and she gave me this huge cheeky grin and knowingly said, “yeah yeah, Cue Gran!” Okay, Cue it is.) How she managed to not only sell us the rooms but also lunch in the morning is a testament to this woman’s business skill.

Boys bathing before dinner in a village by the Mekong

The next morning, the boat journey continued on a decidedly crappier boat. Instead of the nice leather seats we had yesterday, we were treated to poorly constructed wooden benches. It really wouldn’t have been so bad except for the fact we had to listen to a couple travelers whining on the boat for hours on end. One guy, we’ll call “Eric” was pissed off that a bottle of beer cost 20,000 kip on the boat instead of 10,000. He refused to pay the bill, but also refused to stop whining about it for 4 hours straight. Christ man, just buy the damn beer. I really don’t understand the attitude of people who travel solely for the cheap beer.

I should add that 10,000 kip is about $1.25, so he was angry about having to pay $2.50 for a giant bottle. The whining finally stopped, but naturally, we had to pass a small wooden boat laden with Beerlao bottles so the bitching started all over again. At one point he also commented, “Man, this boat is too touristy.” But he must have been ignoring the dozen or so locals and their cargo. He also whined when we stopped to drop off those locals. Also, new roads being built mean anyone who can take a road will take a road–the locals lived in village with no road access. Without tourism, the once bustling river traffic would disappear. It’s give and take.

New friends eating a well-deserved feast

We finally arrived in Huay Xai, however, it was too late to cross into Thailand. The 5 of us (now 6–we picked up a Chinese girl named Jaja) were a bit disheartened, until we were approached by a woman offering us rooms in her guesthouse. The price was 200baht (about $6)–the same as last night, but we were offered warm rooms, GLASS in the windows, hot showers in the rooms, and amazingly, television. It was amusing watching how fast our spirits were raised by little things such as glass and sealed rooms. After settling in, we set out and had a bit of a Thai/Lao feast and really great conversation. See, bad mornings don’t always turn into bad days. =)

Not our boat, but looked just like it

Although we would have loved to stay in Laos for longer, we decided it was time for us to leave. Without a doubt we’ll return (especially to visit southern Laos), but for now the Luang Prabang tourist prices, fairly depressing food options, and desire for modern conveniences meant that Hugh and I have decided to leave.

Since I couldn’t do a Yantze river cruise, or go to Halong Bay in Vietnam, we decided to take the slow boat up the Mekong to the Thai border. It proved to be easy enough–we just showed up at the boat terminal (er, that’s a pretty big word for what it actually was) and were shown to an aquamarine, wooden boat. We were warned the boat would have wooden seats and would be really crowded, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. We had lots of room and the seats were leather recliners.

Kindly taken by a fellow traveler. Note the cold-weather clothing.

While floating along, we struck up conversations with several people on the boat. Midori, a Brazilian-born Japanese girl (now living in Japan) and traveling alone; Marie, a French girl who had been to Laos before and was doing volunteer work; and Kris, a Canadian nurse, who on her travels had climbed Everest base camp amongst other things. The conversation helped the time fly as all three were very interesting, talkative people who actually had things to say beyond the typical backpacker conversations about cheap beer. During lulls in conversation, we watched river life.

We passed many ethnic minority villages where we saw women in colorful head-wraps doing work along the riverbanks, we passed villages so remote that the only access they have is by boat, we saw people bathing in the freezing Mekong before dinner (they bathe dressed in a sarong). We stopped several times to drop off people and their cargo–one woman was bringing empty rice sacks to fill, another man was carrying around nothing but a boat rudder (did he have to go all the way to Luang Prabang for that?), while two women had crates of energy drinks, clothing, and other random stuff–presumably for their shop. When travelers whine about having to pay $2 in Laos for something, I don’t think they realize that it’s because often it had to be imported into Laos from Thailand, and then carried by young girls on boats to a village.

Oh, right, did we mention that it’s cold? In Luang Prabang it was hitting 40 degrees (around 10 C), and that didn’t really make a boat ride enjoyable what with the wind and Mekong spray wetting your face and ears. If we finish this trip without pneumonia, I’ll be shocked (and very pleased to be wrong.)

Anyways, we arrived in Pakbeng just before dark. Pakbeng is a remote little village that would be fairly unremarkable, and probably a cute little town, if it wasn’t flooded with tourists every night. Unfortunately, this has meant that entrepreneurs have turned everything they can into guesthouses (more on that tomorrow.) We checked into one place and we and the 3 girls we met all decided to have dinner together. It was tasty and the conversation was good, so despite Pakbeng being a dreary little town it wasn’t a bad night.

Lao women giving their offerings to young Buddhist monks and novices

From the age of 12, boys can become novices and live in a wat (monastery). While a full-fledged monk has 200 or so precepts (rules) they have to abide by, novices only have 8. Nonetheless, it’s a strict lifestyle–no games, no running around and jumping (specifically, no jumping), very few possessions, and possibly the most difficult to me–no food after 12 noon. Every morning, the monks wake up at 4am for chanting (and in process, wake up the entire neighborhood) and then do an alms round where they take their bowls and walk the streets accepting food and other offerings from people. In Luang Prabang, the procession is quite beautiful with hundreds of monks filling the streets (though watching dumb tourists get in their way and shove cameras in the monks’ faces is pretty meh).

A procession of monks and people (tourists) giving offerings, a woman selling overpriced rice to tourists watches on

It’s fun seeing these young boys trying to behave, but we’ve caught more than a few being “naughty.” We saw one boy with a cellphone, when he saw us looking at him, he guiltily put it away. Another time, while climbing a hill, we saw two boys hiding behind a statue speaking in hushed voices, I can only guess that the illicit conversation was about video games or girls. Hugh noted, “I look at them and I see my baseball team, you know shaved heads and everything…” (referring the baseball club boys in Japan.) While many young novices surely want to become monks, many are orphans, or want to go to school, or are sent there by their parents and don’t want to be there. Infractions like having a fruit shake in a nightmarket can be punished by beatings or being expelled from the wat. During our time in Laos, we’ve met many young men who were once novices, but decided to be normal men when they turned 20 (which is when a novice must decide.) I look at these young boys and then think back to the ones I was just teaching in Japan and I see this huge gap in personality and dedication, but then I see these monks watching kids play games enviously or peeping at girls through a fence and I’m reminded that in the end, boys will be boys.

Lemongrass, galangal, spicy wood, and many other things make up the base flavors of Lao food

Hey foodies! This post and photos are for you! In Luang Prabang, we decided to check out the cooking class by Tamarind (a restaurant) which was highly regarded (and turned out to be good).

The class started out with a market tour led by our Lao teacher, Jack. He pointed out various herbs, meats, and sauces used by Laotians (insert whinging by an annoying old Australian couple here about the cleanliness of the market and how awful it is to eat certain meats, waaaah). After that, we were taken to the riverside kitchen to cook.

Something I noticed before is that in Lao, most cooking is down over hot coals. Most people don’t have electricity at home and therefore, no stoves or ovens (remember, electricity only really came to Lao 15 years ago). Cooking is primarily done by grilling, stewing, or steaming. This is also one of the poorest, most isolated countries on earth so, traditionally, food is also very simple. The ingredient list might be quite long, but it’s all stuff that can be picked in your garden (or foraged from the forest/riverbank.)

Steaming sticky rice over coals, the Lao way of cooking

Another important point in Lao cuisine is the fact they use sticky rice to eat. They pull rice out of the steamer, then ball it up into their hands and dip it into different food. Therefore, Lao food tends not to be as soupy/creamy/oily as Thai food. Lao food tastes more “herby,” and what we discovered was that it was flavor overload for basically everyone.

On the menu were several dishes. Orlahm, is a traditional stew in Luang Prabang made with buffalo meat and basically every herb you can think of in huge quantities. It also contained something they call spicy wood, which is…wood. It was pretty weird eating wood, the outside is super bitter and spicy while the inside tastes like peppery chicken. It also makes your mouth feel like you’ve been injected with novacaine. I don’t feel any guilt in saying I’d never eat it again.

Hugh models a wonderfully marinated tilapia

We also made a delicious steamed Tilapia in banana leaves. Once again, the marinade was made up of every herb in existence. But it was really, really nice. A few little alterations and I could definitely add this to my dinner repetoire (the authentic way is a little too flavor country for me.)

Next was the technically difficult to make, stuffed lemongrass. How do you stuff lemongrass, you ask? Well. It was hard. But the results were delicious. Ingredients were minced chicken, lemongrass, every herb in existence (okay, okay–Lao basil, coriander, kaffir lime…oh geez, I don’t know.)

We also made our own spicy Lao dip and laap (a meat salad–I made mine with water buffalo meat). Hugh indulged in the fried worms/catepillars that were offered as a snack. I declined. Nonetheless, I knocked back a shot of lao-lao (aka moonshine) mixed with honey and orange. It still didn’t provide me the courage to eat the grubs though.

All in all, a very good use of the day. You know how they say the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? I always thought that saying had real meaning beyond men being really hungry. =P I believe food is a great way to understand someone, and a culture. Thailand knew this when they sent chefs all over the world to open up Thai restaurants: get people to love your food, and they will love your country (or at least they’ll be up for a visit.)

Grilling stuffed lemongrass while orlahm bubbles on the "stove"

Voila! Stuffed lemongrass and steamed tilapia

Hugh feeding our elephant some sugar cane

For the first part of our trek, we went to an elephant park that uses tourism dollars to try and save elephants from a hard life of logging (which I saw in Cambodia) or being poached. Letting humans ride on your back for an hour and then feed you treats is a much nicer job than dragging/shoving logs around. After our ride, we got to feed our elephant various treats. Ours really seemed to like sugar cane…

Our guide, Bunsai, and Hugh on our way to Houfy village

After the riding, we began our trek to a Khmu village in the hills. It was a relatively easy trek, but considering the heat and having to walk up and down a mountain it was still a bit rough. Our guide, Bunsai, pointed out the new rubber trees that Lao villages are growing to try and make more money, as well as various wild vegetables and grains. It was a really relaxing walk with only birds and buzzing insect sounds to listen to. Along the way, we saw villagers picking wood and forest goods and the sort…

A typical Lao meal: veggies, a main, and sticky rice

When we arrived at the village, we were taken to a special building they use for tourists. Houfy village is extremely poor, but they have lots of rice so they’re not hungry. Eco-tourism helps the village raise funds, and they’re careful not to bring too many tourists in. It was a little weird and felt a bit voyeuristic, but no one was putting on a show for us, and for the large part people completely ignored us (except for the children, but that’s children.)

Villagers building a new hut

While walking around the village, Hugh noted that many of the people (especially women) seemed far more interested in me than they were in him (a white guy). We wondered if it was because they looked at me and saw someone who looked like themselves, but was clearly living a vastly different life. I’m sure a lot of it was just general curiousity. What nationality or ethnicity was I? Why was I with a white guy anyways? Why am I wearing a tacky tourist t-shirt and exposing my arms to the sun?

Children doing hard labor

One of the most interesting things on our trek was seeing the children. We saw plenty of children laughing and playing, and many adorable children who seemed to take so much pleasure in just waving to us and shouting “sabaidee!!” We also saw children hard at work. On our way out of the village, we passed three small children under the age of 10 carrying bundles of wood. They had roped tied around the bundles and then wrapped around their foreheads, so the load was mostly bore on their heads. Our guide joked that the Khmu people had stong heads, but the Lao people had strong backs. He wondered if their necks get shorter from carrying things like that. I wondered if I could have carried the load right then and there (probably not.)

Elephants walking through Tad Sae waterfall

After the village, we trekked to Tad Sae waterfall, passing some smaller villages and elephant tracks along the way. When we reached Tad Sae, it was like entering some magical video game wonderland. The waterfall poured into aqua blue lagoons which poured into more. It was like infinity pool flowing into more infinity pools. The water was freezing, but clear and refreshing. It was definitely an excellent way to treat ourselves after walking for hours.

Best. Waterfall. Evar.

$2 t-shirts, hill-tribe silver, hand-made shoes, bag made of antique Tibetan fabric...and more

For months Hugh and I have been extremely careful about what we buy during our travels. We’d either have to carry it around with us for months, or ship it back to America/Australia (which is costly.) However, since we are winding down on our travels and since it’s just so easy and fun to shop in Luang Prabang we’ve gone a bit crazy.

Unlike other night markets, the one here is insanely chilled out. No one yells at you, “hey lady, you buy!” or our personal favorite, “Hey you, buy something?!” I love that. <Insert your best industrialist tycoon voice here> “Oh why thank you, dear. I was just thinking I wanted to buy something today since this money is getting quite heavy *chortle* I’ll take two of those–what are they? Ah yes, elephant shaped incense holders.”

We just get to wander through stalls and pick over things–yesterday a man entertained us with a gun made out of bamboo. He made no attempts to sell to us, just seemed to have fun showing us his sling shots and flint and tinder kits and crossbows. After his demonstration, we headed off and he smiled and said goodbye and that was all. Trust me, this kind of sedate shopping just doesn’t happen anywhere else. Needless to say, we’ve been very, very naughty. I’m not quite sure how we’ll fit this all in our bags, but we’ve only been here 2 days and we have a week to go. I wonder how long it takes before I snap and buy one of those awesome Indiana Jones-like gas lamps? =P

We passed lots of small rural Laotian villages and what struck me was that nearly every home, hut, or shanty had a satellite. I saw homes that looked like speaking above a whisper would send the entire thing crashing into a river, homes with probably no running water, yet they all had satellite televisions.

We arrived in Vang Vieng in one piece, but half expecting cracked out zombie stoners to be roaming the streets. Instead, the town is incredibly chilled out. The locals are extremely friendly and walking around town has been a pleasure. One of the best/worst things about Vang Vieng are all the TV bars. They’ve got TVs playing movies or TV shows and these big lounging platforms so you can lie on pillows and just zone out on TV (or something else.) We spent hours watching the Family Guy and just eating pizza. Now we’re in a bar (Hugh’s in a hammock) eating cheesy fries and watching the new Indiana Jones…

This has definitely been pretty awesome.

I knew she was sick, but Japanese people never talk about these things. Before I left they told me that she had cancer, but she was going to be okay. But I could always tell they were lying. Japanese people don’t like to talk about terminal illness or death.

I never got to say goodbye to her. She was too sick to come to my farewell party. People just told me she was too busy. It makes me so mad. I wish I had known. :/

What I noticed pretty quickly is how familiar Vietnamese people are with one another. It’s nice, but also sometimes a bit surprising. I watched strangers offer bits of their food to other people’s children. I saw a lady help an old man into his seat, and later she was unfazed as the old man smacked her on the ass to get her to get out of the aisle. That wasn’t the only time I saw someone spank someone adult to get them to do something either.

At one point this giant moth was flying around the train. The Vietnamese didn’t care at all, didn’t even blink an eye. I’m not trying to be patronizing, but in Asia I’ve found people are generally (at least outside of the big cities) more “in touch” with nature. I know on any train in America people would freak out over a moth the size of someone’s hand. Needless to say, when the moth flew towards me I started trying to hide (but didn’t scream! I was trying!) while Hugh was attempting to catch it in a lunchbox, only to have an old lady come up and just grab it in her hand and THREW it to the back of the train (at a sleeping woman, lol.) She gave me a big grin. She saved me again from Mothra a few hours later.

Anyways, the train ride was surprisingly fun. Minus the 7 hours of blaring television showing pretty much the most GOD AWFUL television possible. I’m talking about Cholesterol Man attacking ladies while Barley Tea man comes to save the day (all live action, taking place on a stage.)

At one point, one girl even came up to us and asked if she could take a picture with us. She politely waited while she took a picture with me, then with Hugh. I’m pretty sure she promptly deleted the picture with me.

One of the funnier things that happened was I was walking with the group of guys from HK who we were touring with, when these three girls spotted Hugh. I watched them try and shove the prettiest girl towards hi whispering things I imagine were like, “say hello to him!” and stuff, but she did nothing as they passed by. As we walked by, Hugh grabbed my hand and I heard them squeal “NooooO!” LOL, high school girls.

It’s funny, but even funnier because it kind of weirds Hugh out. I know lots of expat guys who love the attention and use it to their advantage (and sleep with tons of girls), I also know more expat guys who thought it was a little weird and annoying to be treated like a zoo animal. Hugh seems to take it in stride by doing things like scratching his nose (and blocking his face) nonchalantly when people try and take his picture. I mean, it’s all fun and games when the cute high school girls do it, but it’s annoying when the old man gets in your face and tries to take a picture of you eating, right? Same shit, different name.

When we arrived the club was PACKED. Thankfully, a friend of a friend let us in for free and got us a VIP table. That definitely made the night.

There were sexy go-go dancers for us to oogle, but other than that, very few females in the club on this particular day. However, of the females that WERE there, about half of them had some article of clothing off by the end of the night. I’ve never seen so much butt-cheek in my life outside of a beach or pool. Though, honestly, we Asians know that most Asian girls aren’t really sporting big backsides so it really wasn’t buttcheek as much as….thigh? Annnyyyways, if it wasn’t that, then girls were taking off their tops and dancing around in bras. Not the sort of thing I have EVER seen in a club in Japan (let alone dancing), or hell in America even. But then again, Taiwan is not Japan despite my odd tendency to think it is.

The next point of amusement was Kevin’s stalker. While Hugh and I were dancing, he told me some girl was staring at him. Like a non-moving ghost through an undulating crowd. Later, after we came back from a bathroom break the same girl was sitting on the couch trying to talk to Kevin. Imagine this girl: a face like a 15 year old. Her long crimped hair, in messy, uneven pigtails. She’s wearing a miniskirt that says Budweiser down the sides, a black bra, and a hoodie zipped to just above the navel. Her eyes have that unmistakable glassiness that only a psycho can have. She doesn’t really look like a lolita, but the way she pouts purposefully and shamelessly makes you think of an adult trying to do a grotesque impersonation of a child.

And so, the girl sat next to Kevin for about 1 hr… making pouty faces, puppy dog eyes, at one point she started french kissing the air. It was WEIRD…and hilarious…and sad. Even after we repeatedly asked her nicely that he wasn’t interested. Even after a Taiwanese guy told her more rudely to piss off. Even after Kevin pretended to introduce her to his fake fiancee…she just sat on the floor, chin on the couch, staring up at poor Kev. Eventually she pouted as far as her lower lip would go and stomped off. I saw her later listlessly dancing with a Taiwanese guy, eyes staring at some spot on the wall. I have no idea what was going on in her head, but anyone who can sit while 6 people gesture at her and go “wtf is going on?” probably isn’t thinking clearly.

We left the club around 4 am, had breakfast and McDonald’s (the Taiwanese places weren’t open yet, unfortunately) and stumbled home around 5am…the first time I’ve done that in a non-video gaming context for years.

I feel like a kid again.

Now, let me preface this by saying that I have drank Starbucks in America approximately 3 times in my life. However, as any expat will tell you there are certain things that you just sometimes miss. Western food has something about it (fat and cholesterol) that tastes like home to me; so just as my Asian-born friends constantly sought out authentic Chinese food in Los Angeles, we seek the same thing. Except for us it’s so much easier: Authentic America = Fast Food. Whatta world.

Anyways, we were also struck by how kind the people of Taiwan were. At the train station we couldn’t figure out why the turnstile wouldn’t take our tickets. In Japan, we would have had businessmen try and shove their way through, climbing over our baggage and what have you. In Hong Kong, people would have gristled and sighed loudly about our stupidity. However, a young business-type just politely said, “Sir, you need to turn the ticket this way,” while demonstrating the proper way to insert said ticket. Amazing.

We then arrived in Kaohsiung and met up with our friend Kevin (who we know from Japan) who took us to one of the many food-stall nightmarkets, a specialty in Taiwan. I had something called a danbin which is like a wrap with all sorts of random stuff in it. Very tasty. And Hugh got to try pearl milk tea (aka boba aka tapioca) the way it was meant to be drank (since it was invented in Taiwan).

All in all, very good start to our 2 weeks in Taiwan.

A beautiful sunset over Leifeng pagoda...

I hope the weather clears up a little today. We’re in Hangzhou, supposedly China’s most beautiful city, but it’s impossible to look over the famous West Lake because it’s been so hazy (or smoggy, you choose!)

Tomorrow we leave for a 30+ hour train trip to Guangzhou. China proved more difficult than we expected and we’ve cut out some of the more tricky parts of our trip and decided to leave China a week early (we’re going to Macau and Hong Kong for more time–technically China, but so not.)

I have NO idea how people who can’t read Chinese characters manage to get around independently, but I salute you. We’ll go to travel agencies that advertise they book train tickets and speak English, but the minute we go there the staff rolls their eyes (before they even know I am non-Chinese) and then tell us to go to the train station (in perfect English of course) to book the ticket. Thanks guys, seriously.

I’ve realized that the “higher up” people are (English speaking staff, concierges, etc) the less they seem to like doing their job. It’s always been the people in the low-paying work who have been the kindest and most helpful. Waitresses who go out of their way to help us order things on menus, taxi drivers who gesticulate wildly to tell us how to cross a busy street, etc. Anyone we thought we could depend on to help us through things seems pretty unwilling to help, while the people we expected to be brusque and unhelpful have always been sympathetic. Go figure.

Once again, I thank god that I can read Japanese. It’s made buying train tickets (a challenge in line-jumping in and of itself) so much easier.

Anyways, the weather looks good (albeit humid) so that means we should be able to get some nice views of the lake and the city. The pagoda we visited yesterday (although it’s been rebuilt) was really, really beautiful. I spent awhile sitting in a bench by the lake, viewing the pagoda through wispy willow branches and thought, “Ahhh, China…” Views like that make it all worth it. It’s the sort of beauty I’ve never actually seen IN PERSON and I often think that maybe if I just steeled my spine some more I’d be able to see more beautiful things deeper in the country… but I guess I’ll just have to save that for another trip to China.

Ahh China.. Being here really makes me realise how good I had it in Japan.  The little things that used to get under my skin seem like nostalgic past times when compared to daily life in China.  I am not trying to say Japan is the perfect but China hasn’t been easy, and it makes me think about Japan and I miss it. I won’t bother mentioning line cutting and general shoving because I had prepared myself for that. I’ll start my rant with littering.  I have seen more public trash cans in China than I have ever all over Japan in 3 years but people here insist on dumping trash at any chance.  Finish your duck butt on a stick, toss it on the ground in front of you.  Needless to say, a street cleaner will sweep it up with their bamboo broom (they keep the streets clean, an advantage of having millions of people that will work for pittanse), but does that really give anyone the right to trash and disregard their own country, let alone the environment?

Littering is one thing.. spitting is another.  Doing it in your private home or on the sports field can be necessary and acceptable but doing it in public is gross.  I am not talking about releasing the watery moisture in your mouth, these perpetrators call up from the deepest and darkest part of their throat a wad of snot that hits the pavement with a thud.  The footpaths are all marked with fresh splatters, giving you something else to watch out for on the streets.  What really made me write this entry was a visit to ‘Watsons’ a large pharmaceutical chain outlet (like Walgreens or Mychemist) where I witnessed something truly remarkable.  While I waited in line at the register to purchase some insect repellent, a man dressed like a manager smiles at my action of purchasing and then creates a deep throat grunt as he loosens a big one.  As I say to myself ‘I guess he has to swallow that one..’ he lays it down on the floor.  In the shop!

SICK!!!

I’ve stayed in several guesthouses and hostels and I know to lower my expectations. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if staff would be better. It really makes or breaks a place for me. In our current location (Mingtown Hangzhou West Lake) the people at the desk act like every act is some huge inconvenience to them. They sigh and roll their eyes when they have to do things like, sell stuff from their own fridgerators or check you into your room.

When I say “failure,” I meant it ironically though. I don’t think I’m failing. Maybe I’ll lose some uber-backpacker street cred, but screw those guys anyways. If you think a person can’t have an authentic experience just because they have 24/7 hot water and clean sheets, you are insane. Besides, what’s so authentic about sitting in the (foreigner) bar all day long and hitting on anything that moves.