Angkor-ventures

My final destination was Cambodia, and it managed to tug at my heartstrings more than any other country I’ve visited thus far. Cambodia has arguably suffered more than any other nation in Southeast Asia, and not only from poverty. Cambodia is slowly nursing the fresh wounds left by the Khmer Rouge genocide, and is painstakingly removing the landmines that cover their entire country (and blow off the limbs of citizens even to this day). On top of the country’s embedded suffering, there was a tragic stampede in Phnom Penh on November 23rd, and we saw our tour guide worry over the possibility that someone in his family was one of the 350 killed.

With all this sadness laid on the table, I will turn to optimism. Cambodia is trying to build something positive in a nation still stained with traces of war and death. Its pride and joy is Angkor, the series of temples that remain from a formerly grandiose empire, and it is an incredible asset. Angkor flourished in the 9th through 13th centuries, and housed around one million people in its prime; its carvings and structural creations are vast and impressive even to this day.


Almost a million people visit Angkor each year, and I believe that the government should devise a program to professionally integrate the Cambodian population into this massive tourist attraction. Instead, tons of Cambodian children bombard me as I step out of a temple, and I’m left saying “no, I don’t want a bracelet” and “shouldn’t you be in school?”

Christine and I saw something like 15 temples (thanks to our very efficient tour guide, Thom), but I’m only going to mention a few here. Our tour of Angkor began in one of my favorite temples, Angkor Thom, which is known as "the temple of a thousand faces"… and there were many faces to behold. I really appreciated the way the statues were constructed, in small blocks that come together to create the whole face; it not only showed a very meticulous effort, the result was more complex and aesthetically pleasing.


Another favorite was Bantaey Srei, which is smaller than many of the other prominent temples, but is best known for its incredibly intricate carvings in pink sandstone. In the evening we went to see a local longtail boat race, which was very festive, then met up with Thom again for one of the most famous temples of all.


Tha Phrom is know best known as the “Jungle Temple” which was featured in Tomb Raider. It certainly has the look of an Indiana Jones-esque hidden temple, with trees sprawling on top of many structures and growing in between stones. The trees spilled forth over roofs and tore through walls, a powerful testament to the power of nature. That evening we set off a couple fireworks at the local fair, then decided to turn in at a decent hour in preparation for our 4:30 AM wake-up call.


We awoke at this ghastly hour in order to catch the sunrise at Angkor Wat, and I was not disappointed. The moment the sun began to rise I was actually glad I’d woken up (trust me, this doesn’t always happen with sunrises). That evening we returned to Angkor Wat and were finally able to experience the temple in full, after driving past its tantalizingly large moat for days. To be honest, I liked Angkor Wat, but it wasn’t my favorite temple. Its size and structural engineering was pretty incredible, but the amount of tourists shoving me out of the way and waiting in line managed to remove a lot of the magic for me. My favorite part was the library, which was perched on the outskirts of the complex therefore was completely empty of tourists.



The next day we explored Siem Riep a bit, which I really enjoyed; much like Vietnam it had a very French feel, with little European cobblestone alleys and cafés. That evening we took a boat to a floating market, then climbed a small mountain to watch the sunset. A rainbow appeared, and added the perfect cheesy touch to the already romantic dusk.


The rest of our time was spent enjoying our amazing hotel (thanks to Christine’s father) and eating a lot of delicious food. I’d just spent the past few months mostly backpacking and eating greasy Asian food, and felt ready to treat myself to paninis and gnocchi in this sweet European town. Of course, our last night we went out with Thom to a restaurant off the tourist track, and had locally prepared eel, frog and crab, which were also incredibly delicious (especially the eel, yum). We had a very fun night out, and enjoyed watching our tour guide and driver break it down on the dance floor with us.

Cambodian people reminded me of Thai and Balinese people; beautiful smiles and beautiful hearts. It’s curious that people in Southeast Asia who have so little can be so relaxed and jovial, while the very developed Asian countries like China and Japan are known for being punctual and strict, and are not necessarily blossoming with smiles. Makes you think…

A Cup of Java

Let me start this entry by saying that Java has somewhat of a unenthusiastic reputation amongst travelers. I’ve never met anyone who likes the smoggy capital, Jakarta, and the island itself is known for its rather conservative Muslim population. After talking to other travelers, I regretted booking my flight out of Jakarta, and wished I’d gone to Lombok or the Gili islands instead. Not only was there a volcano spewing ash in the middle of the island, no one I met recommended Java or was heading there.

Because of this lack of interest, Java was relatively tourist-free as compared to other places in Indo. As soon as we arrived in Banyuwangi from Bali, there was a 180 degree difference in atmosphere—and I’m not just referring to the increase in ash in the air. While Bali operated on a tourist-driven axis, constantly catering to tourist culture and needs, Banyuwangi demonstrated no interest in supplying Western attractions. No fast food, no English tourist information centers and pretty much no white people. There were plenty of mosques, and all the women were wearing headscarves.


In spite of a very different vibe in Banyuwangi, the local’s fascination and kindness towards us was pretty much the same. We met a friendly man named Totok while sitting by a harbor, and he invited us to have chicken satay with him at a local restaurant. In spite of the language barrier, he eagerly took us home to meet his wife and children, and serenaded us on guitar. I also met a local girl in an internet café who took a photo of me then promptly made the photo her facebook profile picture, as if she were posing with a celebrity.

Probably my favorite part of Java was our hike up Ijen Crater, a steaming volcanic crater with a bright blue lake. Ijen is an active sulfur mine, so there miners are brought in every day to carry the heavy chunks of pale yellow sulfur down to be processed. There was no easy way to get to Ijen, so we managed to connect with a man who got us on the work truck with the miners at 5am. I rode in front, since the miners were allegedly “very interested” in foreign girls, and held on for the bumpiest ride of my entire life (I could only imagine how Jake was doing in the back with the miners). Because we were riding with the workers, we also followed them to the processing plant after our hike, and I got to see how sulfur is melted down and packaged… a random but rather fascinating process to see in full.


Our next stop was an island off the northeast corner of Java called “Madura,” which has a population of over 3 million people and its own unique culture and history. We stayed in Sumenep, which was a cute town with a pretty amazing night festival—everyone rode these small vehicles covered in lights (see right). We took a rather crazy bemo ride to Slopeng, which was a beautiful empty beach with what looked like a bunch of pirate ships on shore (see below). A kind woman served us coconuts and Rujak (peanut sauce, cucumber and sticky rice) for lunch, which was probably the tastiest thing we’d had our entire trip. When we realized the bemos had stopped running, the woman enlisted her husband and his friend to give us a ride home on their motorbikes.



Our final stop was the infamous Jakarta, also known as “The Big Durian”—and it was certainly smelly enough to live up to its name. To be honest, we were prepared to dislike the sprawling capital when we arrived. We’d spent 14 hours in a grubby train watching slums and trash piles fly by, and we were pretty filthy from the ash in the air. Our antipathy softened a bit when we got in a cab, because the sheer size of Jakarta as quite a sight to behold. The massive malls and office buildings stretched on for miles, and we were oddly comforted by their cleanliness and modernity.

We found a few backpacker havens around Jalan Jaksa, such as Margot Café (which played CNN around the clock) and a bar called Melly’s where we joined a pub quiz. The National Museum was pretty interesting, although it underwhelmed me a bit as a representation of Indonesian civilization. All I could think was “Really? This is the capital of Indonesia? This is the metropolis that’s supposed to represent such a diverse, culturally rich and interesting country?” Perhaps this said a lot about the high expectations I had, based on everything else I’d seen thus far.


On my last night I actually really enjoyed myself at a club called Stadium, which was a four-story superstructure with different music on every level. I departed Indonesia with a somewhat heavy heart, wishing I could continue exploring. Of course, I perked up a bit when I thought about the adventures waiting for me in Cambodia …

Nusa Lembongan

Nusa Lembongan had what everyone is seeking in Indonesia: a laid back feel, beautiful (near empty) beaches, friendly locals, surfing and scuba diving. In fact, this was where Jake chose to get his diving certification, so I had several days to explore the island and finally just RELAX. We rented a multi-hued beach bungalow (see left) for the equivalent of 5 US dollars each per night, and made friends quick with the people living around us.

On our first day we rented a couple boards and paddled to a break about 15 minutes offshore. This turned out to be somewhat of a massive mistake on my part. The break shifted constantly, and when I didn’t continue paddling frantically I got pummeled by wave after wave. I should have known better considering the name of the break, “Shipwrecks,” not to mention that this was my first time on a reef break and my first time paddling out on a short board. A little too many “firsts” there. Oh well, live and learn.

The next day I decided to go on a bike ride to a cove called “Dream Beach” with a few of the other women I met. We rented bicycles from a rather shady character, and soon discovered that our bikes didn’t have functioning gears and the road to Dream Beach was straight uphill. We walked our bikes most of the way and arrived covered in sweat, but the emptiness and tranquility of Dream Beach ended up being worth it.


After that I decided it was time to do what I’d been aching to do: scuba dive! I went on a small boat dive with Lembongan Divers and paired up with the local divemaster, but the current was so strong it essentially turned into a drift dive. We were literally hanging onto pieces of rock and coral to keep from being swept too far from where the boat could find us. I suppose it should have been frustrating, but it was rather enjoyable, almost as if I were passing along a rolling movie screen that was playing crystal clear images of beautiful coral and fish.


Jake finished his certification the next day, and we took a long boat ride to the two most famous dive locations on the island; Manta Point and Crystal Bay. Almost immediately after descending at Manta Point, my dive buddy shook my arm and pointed to a large, almost alien-looking creature floating in the distance. It was a massive manta, with an almost six feet wingspan, gliding ethereally through the aquamarine galaxy of water. At Crystal Bay our ethically questionable dive leader pointed out an eel to me, then proceeded to poke it with his metal indicator stick. Yes, he poked the eel, more than once. I pulled his hand away and wagged my finger at him. He was fulfilling an unfortunate stereotype about divers trained in Southeast Asia; that we are poorly trained and careless. I hope to defy this preconception when I dive outside of Asia.

Lembongan was probably the most relaxing of all destinations I’d been in months. Between my intermittent activities, I spent my time reading, walking on the beach, and enjoying some Gado Gado (vegetables with peanut sauce) by the ocean. Lembongan was also absolutely stunning, with the exception of the smell of seaweed that dominated the air. Seaweed farming was the main source of income for the island, and the manmade seaweed patches formed interesting checkerboard patterns in the water.


As I look back, my favorite memories of Lembongan are probably the simpler moments, when I was sipping a Bintang beer and watching the sunset with some friends. (Since when did I become such a sap?)

Bali Beat

Ah Bali, where to begin? I suppose where most Bali stories begin, in a tourist haven called Kuta Beach.


Kuta is like Cancún for Australians, the foreign-yet-strangely-familiar city to get wasted abroad. It’s like Khao San Road in Bangkok, the place where Westerners come for liquor, prostitution, cheap gifts or a combination of the three. Neither I nor my travel partner, Jake felt the desire to linger in Kuta, so we decided to take action. We decided, in fact, to rent a car.

Our big black Avanaza was great, but the rest of the Bali driving experience unfortunately was not. Thankfully, Jake knew stick shift, so he shouldered the stress of the small, winding roads while I attempted to navigate us on an island with almost no street signs. We encountered a few tight squeezes and reckless motorbike drivers, and were pulled over by a cop holding a machine gun (this was resolved with 40,000 rupiah bribe), but managed to find our way to some neat nooks.

Bali’s shabby roads aside, it was one of the most incredible places I’ve ever seen. We began our voyage on the south of the island, where we passed through some legendary surf spots. We slept in Padang Padang, peered through the gorgeous cavernous entrance to the Uluwatu surf break (see photo below) and had a Bintang beer on Dreamland beach, which was once known as a hidden paradise but had become overrun with tourists.



We made our way up the East coast to Padang Bai, where we ate a little hippie restaurant called the Ozone Café. In the morning we headed to a rural town called Sidemen, whose layered rice fields that were almost unreal in their lush beauty. We’d only planned to pass through Sidemen on the way to our next destination, but when we stopped to look at a waterfall a boy name Azis introduced himself to us (he's on the bottom right).



I could spend an entire entry describing our stay with Azis’ family, but suffice to say it was one of the most meaningful homestay situations I’ve ever had. We spent the morning playing beneath the waterfall with Azis and his cousins, then he took us on a hike up a mountain to see where his relatives live. His cousin made birdcages by hand, and his brother climbed a tree and used his machete to slice down some coconuts for us. Azis paraded us through his small Muslim village (where ecstatic children trailed behind us) and brought us to his home to share dinner with his father, sister and little cousins. None of his family members spoke English, and Azis only knew a little, but we looked at photos and looked up words in Indonesian like “enak” (delicious) to communicate. We were awakened at 5:00am the next morning by Muslim incantations being blasted from a loudspeaker (a sound ever Indonesian traveler becomes familiar with rather quickly).

Our next destination was Ubud, the cultural center of Bali which is now rather famous thanks to its feature in “Eat Pray Love.” In the center of the city was the Sacred Monkey Temple, which had a few interesting aspects but was crawling with my two least favorite creatures in Southeast Asia: monkeys and tourists. Once we rented bicycles and ventured away from Monkey Forest road, however, we found some beautiful galleries with carvings and paintings. Something that always bothered me about Thailand was the similarity in style and technique in most Thai art; tradition has its place, but I believe artists should always push the boundaries of their craft. Balinese style definitely had a sense of unity, but there was much more creative interpretation and deviation from a singular style. My favorite restaurant in Ubud was Juice Ja Café, which served delicious, high-quality, healthy cuisine, but there were many more to list; Ubud proved to be a great foodie destination.


We moved through the center of the island next, and passed through the famous Pura Danau Bratan, a temple on the lake (above). We settled in Munduk, among the misty mountains, and enjoyed the cool before heading back down to the West coast towards a small town called Medewi. In Medewi we finally surfed a bit, and the locals who rented my board helped me catch a few waves (they also found great joy laughing at my wipe-outs).

There are plenty of small side-trips I am glossing over or leaving out completely, partially because I don’t recall where they were. We stopped at countless moss-covered temples, a couple of nearly empty black sand beaches, and some small towns with their own specialty. Balinese people reminded me a lot of Thai people; They were helpful and generous, and had these great big smiles.



We rolled into Kuta a week after we’d departed, ready for nothing but a relaxing evening, only to discover we had a flat tire. It was also, of course, pouring outside. So we found a hotel, put down all of our things and stepped out into the blindingly heavy rain to change the tire. We fell asleep early that evening, ready for less stressful stay at our next destination: Nusa Lembongan island. Nusa Lembongan, you see, doesn't have cars.

A Snapshot of Seoul

This is a photo of me at the King’s Palace in Seoul, freezing in the snow. I chose to start at the end, with a picture of me standing at my last stop in Asia before returning to the Los Angeles. Seoul is a perfect place to both commence and conclude something about my travels over the last couple months. I’ll start at the Seoul-Incheon airport, where my plane landed at around 6:00am…

In lieu of my ten-hour layover in Korea, I decided to pass through immigration and do a city tour. In the past month and half, I’d been in Thailand, Bali, Java and Cambodia, which all exhibited typical Southeast Asian weather: humid and hot as hell. My attire reflected this. The Korean tour guide looked at my t-shirt and flip-flops and said “you know that there’s snow on the ground in Seoul, right?”

Snow?! Crap! I was in immediate problem-solving mode. Could I borrow someone’s jacket? Yes. I also had some socks to dig out and wear with my sandals (so tacky, but it was worth it). I then fashioned my Asiana Airlines blanket into an improvised scarf. As I was twisting my blanket around my neck, I began to realize what a quintessential travel moment this was; An unexpected challenge, my scramble for a solution and some sort of makeshift Band-Aid that would carry me through until I moved on.

In fact, my tiny bout in Seoul felt like a perfect summary of my year (actually, 13.5 months) abroad. That familiar feeling flooded through me as we rolled through a new metropolis: a mix of awe and sleep-deprived confusion, plus bourgeoning anticipation for what’s next. Like every new place, Seoul was distinct yet familiar; a new language I couldn’t read or understand, but a recognizable feeling of being completely out of the loop. Most importantly, there were more awesome and strange surprises, such as the “Ettiquette Bell” in the bathroom stalls. The bell plays the sound of a toilet flushing, perhaps so you can cover up a particularly loud bathroom session? I’m not sure. In Asia, I’m never sure. For that reason, my day in Seoul was almost like every day traveling: new problems, more surprises and yet another set of unfamiliar swirls written on street signs.


After about 24 hours of transit and travel, I arrived at Los Angeles International Airport on Saturday morning and was somehow oddly energetic. After gulping down a slightly overpriced cappuccino in a café filled with Santa Monica hipsters, I stayed awake until exactly 11pm, thus somehow managed to conquer what should have been the worst jetlag of my life. I’d passed through seven independent nations in the past two months, yet managed to slide right back into my LA routine like a comfortable chair.

Perhaps this reflects the hardened endurance of a traveler. Or simply the effects of removing myself from the lethargy-inducing humidity of Southeast Asia. Either way, my ability to adjust has increased exponentially. This doesn’t mean I’m more robust or in better shape, I’d like to think I’m just adept at giving myself a break. Case and point, I arrived home a week ago, and am only beginning to update my blog now. I needed time to see friends, to eat delicious food, to ride my bike, to see some music, to go out to dinner with my father… two days after my return I looked over my resume, three days in I started applying for jobs, four days in I began doing laundry, and now I’m beginning to update my blog. I’ve gotten extremely sensitive to knowing when it’s time to slow down, when it’s time to have fun and when it’s time to demand more of myself. I'm going to skip my time with my father in Thailand for now (since I went many places I'd already been) and write about Indonesia and Cambodia while they are still fresh in my mind.

I will begin in Bali...