Beach cure in Sihanoukville

It has been a beautiful week in Sihanoukville...I don't want to leave.

Things were a bit crazy when I arrived with Chinese New Year. The beach was standing-room only with Chinese and Khmer families celebrating with lots of food, sun and surf. Every night, a crazy amount of fireworks, flame throwers and excitement, it felt like they'd put on the show just for me. During the day I wandered from the main beach at Occheuteal to Otres Beach to escape the insanity. On the way home, I smiled at and said hello to dozens of Khmer families. They all smiled back and waived, "Hello, Miss! Hello, Madame!" One dad was taking photos with a film camera and the family insisted that I pose for a shot with every single family member. Seven photos later, I'll be in their family album next to grandma, mum, aunt, uncle and each of the three beautiful daughters.

I don't talk about my feelings much in this blog, but they are very present in my travelling experiences. There have been many moments when I'm so scared or lonely, feeling out of my depths. Thank goodness, these difficult moments always pass and I find myself feeling confident again, happy to be travelling alone. It has taken a while, but I don't think I'd want it any other way.

My days are organic: sleep till whenever I want to get up, eat something lovely like a mango shake and banana pancake, and then do whatever I want to do. Reading is also a big part of my day and I've been devouring books like I haven't done since before law school. I've obviously spent some days lounging on the beach: there are little shacks up and down the sandy stretch with obliging lounge chairs and umbrellas. I'd order a drink (mojito, anyone?) or a snack (fried noodles with shrimp, anyone?) and just sit, watching the world on the beach. It can get a bit much at times with all the vendors selling bracelets, sarongs, sunglasses, lobsters, massages, manicures, etc. They'll sell you anything, really. I bought some pineapple from a little girl who asked if I had a boyfriend. "No? I'll get you one, if you want." The sex tourism is a bit upsetting here. Mostly, you see overweigh white men with these tiny Asian women...yuck.

I took a day trip to the islands and met some nice British boys during our snorkelling and beaching. Lunch was grilled barracuda, fresh baguette (I love the French influence!) and crispy salad, with lovely fruit for dessert. At night time, there are endless edible possibilities: seafood bbq on the beach, traditional khmer food in town, and lots of tourist pleasers, like gourmet pizza, indian food, spanish tapas, european cuisine, etc. All this is washed down with an Angkor draft beer for 50 cents, or a cocktail for $1.50. As you can tell, I'm having a food extravaganza!

Sihanoukville is an amazing escape but I realize that it is hardly the real Cambodia. This country is still reeling from recent wars and genocide. Garbage is everywhere and standards of living are low. Anyone older than 30 years survived the Khmer Rouge regime and it sometimes shows in their taut skin and tiny bodies: signs of the severe malnourishment they suffered. But most Cambodians (40% of the population) are under the age of 15 so there is lots of youthful energy. Theculture is still conservative: the Khmer women bathe fully clothed and locals gawk at the half-naked tourists. Cambodia seems to be finding its way from tyranny to freedom, from age to youth. I just hope that it doesn't become completely Westernized because there is something lovely about the small-town feeling, the old way of life.

I don't really want to leave Sihanoukville but the road call me onward. Tomorrow, I'll take the bus to Phnom Penh and head to Vietnam on Tuesday. More stories from the road will follow, of course! Lots of love to everybody back home.

Finally...some pictures!

Angkor and Siem Reap

I met up with the Montague Crew to tour the temples at Angkor: Connie and Walter, Tim and Helen. We arranged for two tuk-tuks to take us to the temples every morning for three days. Two brothers, Polin and Say Prackchim, were our drivers. Polin was solemn, well-spoken in English and very knowledgeable about the temples, serving as a part-time guide. Say Prackchim was the cheeky older one, very handsome with a smile that could melt ice. He didn't speak much English but was still very sociable and obviously the toast of the community.

I felt a little ill on the first morning - a result of my somewhat cavalier attitude to eating in South-East Asia. By day two, my birthday, I felt back to normal and was very blessed that is wasn't a barf-day instead of a birthday. At Neak Pean, an old woman had set up a shrine under the elephant fountain and I lit some incense and said a prayer for my year ahead. On day three, we rose very early for the sunrise over Angkor Wat, which is the most grand of all the thirty-something temples at Angkor. A little anticlimactic, it was a cloudy morning so we didn't get the classic golden orb over the spires of the temples. Nevertheless, the temples have a magical feeling about them; it is like the gods do actually live there. Pictures or words don't really do justice to the majesty and magnitude of the place.

On my birthday, I went to Psar Leu, the main market in Siem Reap, for a shopping extravaganza. But I wasn't buying for myself - my pack is suddenly much heavier with gifts for loved ones back home (that's you!). After a dip in the pool, the Montague Crew took me for Indian food and lovely wine. A lovely birthday altogether, but it passed very quickly. These days are passing very quickly...I guess that it what happens when you live a life of leisure.

I wasn't sad to leave Siem Reap because I'd had my fill of clambering through temples in the heat and dust. A bus trip followed...of course. I was the only non-Cambodian on the bus to Phnom Penh. I'm really travelling now, I thought. It was squat toilets and noodle soup for breakfast. I spoke with a Cambodian man who teaches at the university, "You are a woman traveling alone?" he asked, a bit shocked. Yup, it would appear so.

In Phnom Penh, I stepped off the bus to the usual scrum of moto and tuk-tuk drivers clamboring for work. It is amazing how quickly I'm becoming accustomed to dealing with the touts and hagglers. I was swindled into some seriously overpriced postcards by an adorable little girl during my first hours in "Scambodia," but now I feel totally calm, not taken aback by the constant attention. Being the only white person who stepped off the bus in Phnom Penh, the drivers' eyes widened, looking at me like pay-day had come. "Sorry, I'm taking another bus to Sihanoukville...it's a little far on the moto, huh?" It felt like an accomplishment to be able to joke with the people who, only days before, had made me feel a little uncomfortable.

Ï had the classic Cambodian bus trip to Sihanoukville: Cambodian karaoke music blaring in the background and the bus driver honking his horn incessantly and driving like a maniac. The rules of the road are very fluid here - the drivers overtake even when the oncoming traffic is very close. But at least the drivers aren't angry; everyone seems to be able to share the road, including cars, buses, lots of motos and bicycles.

I arrived in Sihanoukville around sunset on Sunday night and had my first moto ride down to the coast. The driver held my pack between his legs and I climbed on the back, holding on tight. Sailing down the hill with my hair blowing in the breeze and my scarf fluttering behind me, I felt glorious. I'm really traveling now, I thought. Sihanoukville is a beach town and its very busy right now because of Chinese New Year. I'm off to find a quiet corner of beach...and write some postcards. Lots of love to everyone back home.

Into the land of the Khmers

The first things you notice in Cambodia is the red dirt. It coats everything, from cars to feet to throat. I'm realizing what sterile lives in Canada where most every road and pathway is paved. But once you look past the mess, you start to feel the relaxed pace of life here. The Cambodian people that I've met are joyous despite their gruesome history of genocide and their lack of possessions and material comforts. Now there's a lesson for us to learn back home.

The trip from Bangkok to Siem Reap was an epic one, with much Buddhist patience required. Although we met our bus at 7:30am, it didn't leave Bangkok city until 8:30 or 9:00am. The trip to Ananya Prathet, the Thai border town to Cambodia, was relatively painless. The driver stopped randomly to buy some decorations and it took a long time to gas up the bus but we got to the border and through into Cambodia with no problems. If only the rest of the journey had been so pleasant!

There are some bus scams going on between Bangkok and Siem Reap in which the drivers make the journey as long and arduous as possible so that you arrive in Siem Reap very late and succumb to staying at a particular guesthouse, being too tired and beaten to search around town for something better. We'd been assured that this was not the case with our company and that we wouldn't be charged any extra money once in Cambodia. But, sure enough, when it came time to get on the bus from the border to Siem Reap, we were told that the trip on the bus would take 6 or 7 hours over bumpy road (earlier, the estimate given was four hours) and that it would be much better if we paid more money to take a taxi. Hmm. Many people gave in to the taxi idea very quickly. I was firm about waiting for the bus but then the driver wouldn't say when exactly the bus would leave. It was during the wait at the bus station that I realized I might have just crossed the border into the Kingdom of Scambodia. The problem with scams isn't so much that you are made to wait or pay more money - the feeling of being cheated is the worst.

In the end, the scam worked because we all stayed at the appointed guesthouse where we were finally dumped in Siem Reap at 9:30pm (arriving by a somewhat circuitous route through town). But it wasn't that bad: I got a big room with a double bed and hot shower...for the princely sum of $8 US per night. The bus ride was actually quite lovely: the long highway was paved in spots, red dirt in others. We passed villages and home, groups of men playing soccer, children on their way home from school, lots of dogs and chickens scratching in the dirt. The conditions in which people live are amazing: a small wooden shacks with no windows, an open fire and earth floor. But I suppose much of life is lived outside and in the community.

On our first morning in Siem Reap, we hired a tuk-tuk (motorcycle pulling a carrriage with seats) and went around town in search of more convenient accomodation. I'm staying at Wat's Up Guesthouse, just across the river from the main market and restaurant area. Last night we saw our first sunset over Angkor and spent the morning exploring Bayon and Angkor Thom. The Cambodian people that I've met are so friendly, shy and sweet. While the hawkers in the streets and around the temples are a bit aggressive, I can't get their lovely cries out of my head: "Hey laydee, you wanna buy pineapple?" I'm slowly learning how to politely but firmly decline their constant offers.

I have so much more to say but I'll leave it for another time. Tomorrow, I turn 27 and I'll be spending my birthday at Angkor. Lots of love to everyone back home!

Feeling Bangkok-y

My last 24 hours in Singapore were lovely. Carol played mahjong with her friends in the living room while I had my first Tiger beer poolside in the courtyard with Rex and his friend Khalid. After a midnight swim, I fell asleep to the sound of the mahjong blocks being shuffled and the aunties chatting between hands. On Saturday morning, we met Carol's friends for brunch. I downed two Singapore teas - a concoction of strong tea with sweetened condensed milk - and we all slurped spicy noodles with duck, sweating despite the early hour. I got to hold Sophie, Carol's god-daughter, who is a fat, Buddha-like Chinese doll at 16 months old. If she wanted something, she squawked like a chicken instead of crying but it was still hard to let her go.

A short air-hop later...I was in Bangkok! I decided to skip over Malaysia during Chinese New Year - I'll have time to explore slowly overland on the way back to Singapore. I must admit that the prospect of Bangkok terrified me. But fears need to be faced. And my neighbours from PEI, Walter and Connie, just happened to be there for a few days. So I took a deep breath and jumped. It really isn't as bad as my imagination could dream. Okay, so many streets smell like pee (cat, dog, human) and a rat scurried by my feet when I used the payphone on my first night. But it is organic and comfortable in Banglamphu, the tourist quarter. Not dangerous at all. I've had comfy but spartan digs, cheap massages, great food, lots of amazing live music and many accidental run-ins with my little network of people, friends both new and old.

I need to get out of the haze of Bangkok's pollution fast fast, but I know I'll be back - I feel like I know this neighborhood after only a few days. Next stop is Siem Reap in Cambodia, which is the town closest to Angkor Wat. I feel like there are an infinite number of wonders in this world...but I'm about to go see number 8. I'm relaxing into travelling: eat, sleep, read, look, nap, smile. It really is a beautiful rhythm.

More love to follow...lots of love to everyone back home.

Singapore, the Lion City

The only other trip I've taken outside of North America was when I was 18 and went to be an au pair for a family in Germany for the summer. It was on that trip that I started believing in angels: people who come into your life when you need a boost and they just make you feel so good. In Germany, my angel was Rosalie, an elderly woman and friend of my host family who showed up at the house unexpectedly one day when I was feeling particularly homesick. She was so kind and generous of spirit, it made me forget my troubles. I never saw her again but I'll always remember the way she made me feel.

These days, my life is full of angels. In fact, Singapore is a whole city-state of angels! I chose this place as my entree to Asia because it is a mix of Western convenience and Asian exuberance. The city is clean, modern and efficient: there is little crime, few traffic jams, safe drinking water, etc. I've been staying with Carol Wee, whose daughter Melanie was my good friend in Montreal. Carol might be better described as the unofficial Queen of Singapore: she seems to know everyone and everything about this city, right from the Prime Minister down to the cheapest places to buy camera accessories and the best spot to eat duck rice.

I arrived on Monday and easily made my way to Carol's place on the efficient subway system (a ticket cost only $1.40). Suddenly, I was a minority: white and feeling very tall. Carol immediately whisked me around the neighbourhood for a tour, some food and introductions to her sisters, Chris and Cynthia. If Queen Carol is the matriarch of the family, then her sisters are the lovely duchesses. I wondered where all the men where and was beginning to think that Singapore was a matriarchy of strong women.

Life here revolves around food and I've had many amazing meals with the Wee family. On Tuesday, I felt like a real Singaporean, eating breakfast, lunch and dinner in the hawker centres and dining on such delights as BBQ sambal stingray, prawn mee soup, oyster omelette and a sour plum drink to wash it all down. The average dish in the hawker centres costs about $2.

I feel lucky to be getting two views of Singapore: both local and tourist. In my tourist experience, I've checked out the museums and slurped a Singapore Sling at the Long Bar of the Raffles Hotel - what a cliché! I wandered in the Botanical Gardens and checked out the lush National Orchid Garden after Carol whisked me around for introductions to all her friends and colleagues at National University of Singapore Law School, where she works part-time as a law librarian.

Yesterday, I went to Little India and found where all the men are hiding. Emerging from the subway, I felt like I'd been magically transported to Delhi, complete with sights, sounds and smells of India (although Singapore's version is probably much cleaner than the real thing). The streets were teeming with men, mostly migrant workers for Singapore's construction trade. I was suddenly very aware of my gender and pleased for my modest attire, which I've adopted for my South East Asian adventure: pants below the knee and t-shirt covering shoulders, upper-arms and cleavage.

Travelling alone can be mentally overwhelming but it makes me open to chance encounters with more angels, who show up when I least expect it. An Aussie bloke on the subway asked, "Where'ya from?" and we struck up a conversation for the rest of our journey. I met Arthur, an art dealer, at the Indian restaurant while I munched on my thali, and then there was Anand, a chatty museum guard with a background in bodyguarding. If I ever want to have an art show or need a "close personal specialist," I now have the business cards of some contacts in Singapore.

I have a day or two left in Singapore and I'm wondering where to go next: Malaysia, Thailand, or Cambodia? It is pretty crazy that this is the biggest decision I need to make right now. How blessed I am to be living a stress-free existence surrounded by a myriad of angels! Lots of love to everyone back home.

Farewell (but not goodbye) to Australia

During my last weeks in Australia, I was lucky enough to enough the hospitality of Phil and Liz, who live over the harbour bridge north of Sydney's downtown area. I know Phil's brother, Steve, from Prince Edward Island - gotta love that good old PEI network! Phil and Liz welcomed me into their home (which felt more like an estate than a house) and plied me with good food, lovely wine, excellent conversation and, most important, great company.

On a hot and sunny summer's day, we headed up to the Blue Mountains, about 2 hours west of Sydney. The Blue Mountains got their name because the ecalyptus oil from the trees makes a mystical blue haze over the sweeping hills. The colours were amazing: shades of blue sky, green trees and red earth. We hiked to Pulpit Rock, about three hours round-trip, and had a lovely lunch on the outcrop overlooking the mountains. Phil and Liz are my kind of people in that they like to be active and get back to nature but also take pleasure in stopping at the pub or a tearoom for a little post-bushwalk reward.

I also had the opportunity to visit Patrick, my US Marine friend, in Canberra so I hopped on the bus at Central Station and was soon in Australia's capital city. Hardly a hotspot on the backpacker trail, the bus was quiet and full of white-haired people dozing. Canberra is a designed city, built on former sheep paddock and situated halfway between Sydney and Melbourne: the democratic solution to rival bids between those cities for status as nation's capital. I enjoyed the symmetry and grandness of Canberra. The roads are wide, trees and parks abound, and there is much history and culture to take in.

Patrick is not only an officer but also a gentleman and he escorted me around to many of the sites: Parliament House, the War Memorial, the Telstra Tower, etc. We rented kayaks and paddled around Lake Burley Griffin, lazily read our books on a blanket in the park and had a quiet beer in Manuka on a sunny Saturday afternoon. I found Canberra's calm and unhurried atmosphere very soothing, especially as I anticipate noisy chaos in South-East Asia very soon. It was also lovely to spend some quality time with a handsome gentleman, trading "war" stories, sharing food and enjoying each other's company. All too soon, my two days in Canberra were over and I was back on the bus to Sydney.

On my last night in Australia, I meant to go home early to pack and sleep. But Rachel insisted that I come out to Coogee one last time for beach and bbq. I'm so glad I complied. She and her Aussie-Italian boy-toy made a feast to remember for a group of us at the picnic area next to the beach. Rachel mixed up her famous sangria, topped off with Australia's famous Bundaberg Rum, while Pete made a Greek salad and grilled a rump of beef, all the while with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. The rest of the crew were Irish lad and lasses who shared stories of their own travels. I was comforted at seeing Rachel again after many weeks apart and didn't want to leave. At sunset, I had to tear myself away to head back to Liz and Phil's to finalize my packing and get a few hours sleep.

Farewell to Australia...I have had an amazing six months Down Under. But now isn't the time to be sad because I will be back in April to explore the West Coast and Red Centre. In the meantime, I'm off to Singapore and my entree to Asia. Yikes! More stories from the road to follow - lots of love to everyone back home.

Happy Holidays

Happy New Year, my friend. I’ve been having a great time during my first holiday season away from home. Thank goodness for good friends, amazing weather and scenery, and good food.

I spent Christmas week in Kangaroo Valley, New South Wales, which is about two hours south of Sydney. My friend Steve Turnock grew up in the valley, which is one of eleven true valleys in the world, meaning that it is completely surrounded by mountains. Steve’s mum, Libby, wearing a long floral dress, picked us up from the train station in Bowral in an ancient red Volvo. We drove deep into the countryside, climbing up the mountain and, seven hairpin turns later, we were down into the lush, sunny valley.

The Turnock’s house is an old school building from the 1800s. It was a very cozy place, where Libby ruled from her station in the kitchen. I was not permitted to do any dishes or help with any of the exquisite meals that Libby prepared. Instead, I went for bushwalks on the Turnock’s farm and in the nearby national park. Or I lazed around the house, drinking tea and eating shortbreads. On Christmas Day, we had a traditional Aussie lunch: cold meats and lots of lovely salads. Most people find it too hot here to make and eat turkey with all the trimmings.

I took the train back to Sydney on Boxing Day and quickly found myself amid the throngs of people on Bondi Beach. It was a balmy day at 28 degrees Celsius and I thought I could get used to the white sand Christmas. Since arriving back Sydneyside, my days have mostly been comprised of exercise, beaching, and catching up with friends. What a life.

On New Year’s Eve, a big crew of exchange students met up at Yarranabbe Park, overlooking the Sydney Harbour. We staked out our spot early in the day and spent much time trying to stay cool until the raging sun set. Another gourmet event, we snacked on Eva’s specialty: duck sandwiches with fig and brie. I had made my stuffed grape vine leaves and the German contingent provided meatballs, pasta salads, olives, etc. By nightfall, the park was packed but the crowd was mellow. Someone fired up the speakers in their truck and an impromptu dance party erupted in the street next to the park. At midnight, the fireworks were beautiful over the Harbour Bridge and I found myself safe in the arms of a very handsome and chivalrous US Marine who was part of our group. I think it was my best New Year’s ever.

I leave for South-East Asia in a few days and my days have been taken up with packing, organizing, running errands and saying goodbye. I’m excited to be off on a new adventure but I’ve also been learning how to enjoy these moments, these last days Sydneyside.

More soon about the Blue Mountains and the Sharatts, my gracious hosts in Sydney. Lots of love to everyone back home.