Happy Holidays

We're off to the Gilis. See y'all in the year 2010!

Ubud Index

The following index is relevant to Ubud, Bali, a unique place in one of the most disaster-prone countries on Earth.

Nationalities of tourists in Ubud: 48% American, 45% Australian, 3% Indian, 2% Japanese, 1% European, 0% Israeli.

Average age of tourists: 33.
Average age of expats: 55.
Average age of that old hag sitting at the cafe for hours on end, reading a book, ordering drink after drink, never smiling, and has a spa treatment scheduled for later in the evening: 38.

Percent of tourists who are women: 70.
Percent of these women who are "showing" (i.e. pregnant): 30.
Percent of women tourists who look serious, New Age-y, lesbian-ish, with short spiky haircuts, draped in beads, and emitting odors of sandalwood and patchouli: 30.
Percent of women tourists who look exactly like Elizabeth Gilbert: 40.

Percent of white men who are obviously gay: 50.
Percent who are not so obvious: 20.
Percent who go to local art museums: 2.

Number of times I've heard a tourist ask a clerk "How much would that be in American money?": 1.

Average cost of a fruit shake at a local restaurant, called a warung: $.60 USD.
Cost of a fruit shake at the Kafe, Ubud's hip, organic and progressive restaurant of all things earthy: $2.15 USD.
Number of mice seen scurrying around the floor of the Kafe: 1.

Number of shops and market stalls selling huge, realistic-looking penises carved out of rainforest wood: 25.
Average length of unsustainably-produced penises: 8.5 inches.
Percentage of these that are circumcised: 100.

Age at which a Balinese male turns into an adult (with all the ceremonial hoo-hah): 17.
Age at which a Balinese learns how to drive a moped: 5.

Time in which it takes me to decide to buy two small bars of organic soap at Kou (in seconds): 5.

Number of 7-11s in Ubud: 0.
Number of Circle K's: 3.

Frequency that attendees at last night's Wayak Kulit (or Shadow Puppet Play) performance snapped a blurry, underexposed photo of the candlelit scene (per 10 minute interval): 20.
Number of times an attendee, infuriated at her underexposed photos, used her flash: 1.
Number of people in audience who was seriously pissed at this: Me.
Number of times the storyteller broke from the traditional story to crack a few jokes (in English) about Balinese always asking tourists "Where you from?" and "You need transport?": 4.
Number of times this was funny and a bit painful: 4.

Number of times I was asked if I needed transport (be it taxi, motorbike, or bus) while I walked Ubud's streets for 45 minutes: 94.
After saying "no," percentage of times the man repeated his question or said "Hello, sir?" as if I didn't hear him the first time: 40.
Number at which I stopped saying "no," and just stared ahead vacantly, like a ghost, if only for self-preservation of my sanity: 55.
Percentage change in tourist numbers to Ubud this year compared to last year, perhaps causing the Balinese to be more aggressive capitalists: negative 55.

Fee an old, half-drunk Balinese man demanded of me after he pointed out a road across the street (the road I was looking for): $2.25.
Amount I actually paid him after bargaining: $1.25.
Number of times I've been asked to pay a fee for walking on a public path where it turned out they were just kidding: 1.

Yards I walked with a "friendly local" into a rice field before I realized he just wanted to charge me a "guide fee": 300.
Number of locals I've chatted with: 20.
Percentage of locals I've chatted with who were not A) ultimately trying to sell me something, or B) someone I was already paying (taxi-driver, accommodation-operator): 2.

At the Sharp End of the Rainbow There Is A List of the Best of 2009 (And It Might Look Like This)

FILMS

This was a terrible year for me going to see films at the cinema. I guess you could say my life has been in a jumble all year and filmgoing just didn't seem to fit into my modus operandi. Which sucked! I am now in Indonesia and don't even want to think about all the winter prestige films I'm missing out on. (But a quick rundown of what I badly want to see: Where the Wild Things Are, Summer Hours, Avatar, Fantastic Mr. Fox, District 9, many, many more...) Here are the ones that stand out in my mind right now:

1. Inglorious Basterds
Two words: Apple strudel. After his Kill Bill duds, it's good to see Tarantino making joyous, life-affirming films again.

2. Waltz with Bashir
An animated documentary on the Beirut war. Makes Petropolis look like Disney schlock.

3. Let the Right One In
Vampires are supposed to be scary. This movie (from Sweden) is effing scary! Perhaps the hardest movie ending to stomach in a decade.

4. Che
Steven Soderbergh's 4 hour double feature makes you remember why cinema is best enjoyed projected large on a big screen. I am not a Che believer, but I enjoyed Part One immensely. However, due to a sore butt and the fact that Che isn't quite as victorious, I wasn't as interested in Part Two.

RECORDS

This one is even harder to admit: I just haven't been keeping up on my music this year. I blame it on a lack of a job with constant-internet connection. For all intents and purposes, I've been unplugged this year. However, some new music did wash over my ears (mostly earlier in the year) and I'd like to acknowledge them (in no particular order).

1. Wavves, Wavvves
GarageBand noise-punk that is sunny and simple. I saw them live and they actually rocked it, against all hype and expectations.

2. Bibio, Ambivalence Avenue
Electro-folk and perhaps the best road music I listened to all year.

3. Blockhead, Uncle Tony's Coloring Book
This came out in 2007 but I have to give it a nod. It was played many a time in the minibus I drove my 2nd session teen trail builders around in all summer. I didn't think I'd ever love jazz. But when it's done this way, I love it almost too much.

4. Animal Collective, Merriwether Post Pavilion
Overhyped, but totally worth the hype-ness. Songs fit several moods. I especially like to play "No More Runnin" when I'm feeling slow, "My Girls" when I'm feeling fast. Their concert at Sasquatch Music Fest, while loud and energetic, was sort of a letdown.

5. Micachu & the Shapes, Jewellery
This was one of those gems sent to me by the press agents (back when I had a press job). It blew me away (and I'm not easily blown away) with its melodic dischord and harmonic vocals from Mica Levi.

6. YACHT, See Mystery Lights
I never knew ex-Astorian Jona Bechtolt had a religious streak in him, but then he went to Texas with his woman and got all introspective. This record is on repeat in my head most days.

Honorable mention (albums by): Neko Case, METRIC, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Lykke Li (yeah, released in 2008, but ultimately adored in 2009).

CONCERTS

1. Fleet Foxes @ McDonald Theatre (April)
I must admit: I was pretty inebriated for this one. I wanted to stand, but I had to sit. The music just washed over me like a pine-scented backwoods waterfall shower. It took me a whole year to finally like Fleet Foxes. This concert sealed the deal.

2. Crystal Castles @ Sasquatch (May)
None of my friends wanted to see this band. So there I was alone at 11pm in the Dance Tent at Sasquatch. I couldn't see the stage at all it was so packt like sardines. We were shoulder-to-shoulder, but when the music hit, the space opened up and people danced like I've never seen before. Unfortunately, I had to leave a bit early because I was so drained from 10 hours of music festival.

3. Blind Pilot, Loch Lomond, The Old Believers @ The Aladdin (January)
I am totally biased on this, but it was definitely special because I was front and center and nearly everyone I associate with this band was there (either on stage or in the audience). Also: the after-party with Blind Pilot was a surreal experience, starting with a pancake feast at the Hotcake House and ending with a dance party in a small SE Portland house. Compared with my very first experience with the band, this was a blow-out.

The Lowdown on Laos (In Case You Wanted To Know)

In Laos it is very easy to die. This is what makes Laos special. For example, if you want to get close to the raging torrent of the Mekong River spilling over cascades and waterfalls in southern Laos, close enough to take a photo, you very well can. Nobody will stop you. But, as the Japanese woman found out the day before I left Don Det, it is quite easy to lose your balance on the rocks. And, once you fall in, there's no chance in hell you will survive. And so she drowned. She was one of perhaps hundreds of tourists who have drowned in this very spot. This is the risk you take in Laos. The same goes for motorbike rentals, roadside food stalls, public transport, indulging in various drugs ... all of it: At Your Own Risk.

In Laos you should take a seat, take a nap, take a hammock and take a break. The number one attraction in Laos is inner-tubing 4km down a river in Vang Vieng, stopping at makeshift bars, ordering fresh fish and cold beer. And that's it. It doesn't get any more beautiful and simple than that. At the 4,000 Islands (southern Laos' premiere attraction), there are 3 islands you can visit, all of which specialize in one thing: whiling away a day in a hammock, reading books, waving at schoolchildren as they pass on their bikes. If you want cultural sites, wander around Luang Prabang, the epicenter of relaxed boutique Asia, but the keyword is wander.

Laos is, on many levels, the best deal in SE Asia. Decent rooms with clean beds range from $4 to $9 per night. A pint of beer costs $1.25 (compared to $2 in Cambodia). If you want an áctive journey, it can still be super-cheap, but only if you forego all bodily comforts and do-it-yourself. However, if you want some level of comfort, expect to pay a tour company, and expect to pay ... a reasonable amount. The kicker is you won't lose a dollar here, a dollar there, to the touts and scammers in Laos, because they are few and far between. Even the ones you are absolutely sure are scamming you turn out to be looking after your best interest.

You even enter a country and go, "Now, this is my kind of country." No? Well, that's what I thought in Laos. I've thought the same in Croatia, Nicaragua and, after I departed, Mongolia. Rough, crumbled, painfully beautiful, a down-to-earth people and hospitable as ever. The bastard-child of nations.

Here is what S., a German traveler I met in Thailand, just emailed me (I think he's somewhere near Pakse): "hey chuck, how you made it to leave this laos, my heratbeat is at the moment down to 26/day , the more i get to the south , the slower goes the mekong, the smilier are the people and the smaller are my eyes????"

This is what I love. And Laos has it in spades.

New Photos

Time for another public link to my new photos posted on Facebook.

Dear Phnom Penh-Sorya Transport Co., Ltd.

Date: December 12, 2009
To: Phnom Penh-Sorya Transport Co., Ltd.
From: Chuck Adams, American backpacker

Dear Sir or Madam,

I must alarm you, if I may, to a situation which occurred on your transport line between Don Det, Laos and Siam Reap, Cambodia, the infamous bus "168." I do so in the hopes that your service might improve in the future, thus ensuring a healthy, robust touristic economy for Cambodia for years to come.

To recount, I purchased a ticket to Siam Reap from Don Det at Happy Island Tour Group, one of several outlets on the island in which to buy a bus ticket for the "168." The ticket included transfers between boat to Ban Nakasan, from Ban Nakasan to bus, across the border at Dom Kramlor and, once in Kampong Cham, Cambodia, a transfer to a 12-seat minivan for the remaining 4.5 hours to Siam Reap. The cost of the ticket was $20 USD.

For the journey between Don Det to Kampong Cham, the ride went smoothly, the seats were OK, and the A/C worked to a satisfactory level. The hitch came when the bus dropped us off at a dirty petrol station on the outskirts of Kampong Cham. All 13 of us silly Siam Reap-bound tourists disembarked, collected our baggage, bought some sweet bread from the friendly-if-persistent salesladies at the petrol station, and followed instructions from some random Cambodian man to start loading up in his 12-seat minivan.

We were skeptical at first, especially the Australians. But I am American, and we usually deal with hardships in silence. I was the last to board the minivan and, since there was no seat for me (even though I had paid $20 USD), I merrily took up a position sitting on the floor of the vehicle, back leaning against the gearshift, legs stretched out under the seats. When someone said they felt sorry for me, I made light of the situation, "At least I can stretch out my legs." To which an Aussie replied, "Touché." It really wasn't a problem, I had endured much greater hardships in my life than sitting on a minivan floor with the constant thought that, should the driver crash, I would become like the Superman and fly out the front of the windshield, crack my skull on the hood of the car and land, peacefully, on the pot-holed pavement, my brains later being lapped up by the local packs of feral Cambodian dogs. In fact, the whole situation became a lot better when the Aussies offered me a pillow for my bum.

No, sir or madam, my complaint is that your company, Phnom Penh-Sorya Transport Co., Ltd., did not take me to my final destination, Siam Reap, as promised by the purchase of the ticket. Instead, your company pulled off the highway somewhere near Siam Reap and drove down a dark alleyway in the middle of nowhere, absolutely nowhere, and came to a stop. Your driver explained to us that there would be tuk-tuk drivers outside wanting to take us to their guesthouse, but he said it almost apologetically, as if he were dropping a basket of bunnies into a pit of hungry wolves. This was the end of a long 14-hour journey for all of us, most of us were dead tired, had serious motion-sickness and were, quite literally, sleep-walking zombies. We assumed your company had transported us to Siam Reap and so we disembarked without question.

We were not in Siam Reap, however. Siam Reap was another 5 km away, or, if you believed the tuk-tuk drivers amassed outside the minivan, in the darkened alley in the middle of nowhere, we were "more than 8 km" away. But no matter, the tuk-tuk drivers would take us all to a guesthouse for free. Great, I thought, but what was the catch? Apparently the ride into town was only free if you stayed at their Bakong Guesthouse and used their tuk-tuk driving services to visit Angkor Wat in the following days. In other words, not "free."

I asked how much a ride into town would cost if I did not stay at their guesthouse and did not use their services in the following days. They said, "Two to three dollars, but you need ride to see temples?" I told the man, "I'm not going to see temples tomorrow." He said, "The day after tomorrow?" I said, "Not the day after." Thus infuriated, and simply wanting a ride into town, but completely clueless as to where in the world the minivan had dropped us at, I lied and told the driver I would not be going to see the temples at all. He left me alone for a bit, but then came back and asked me, as if he were personally hurt, "Why you no go see temples?" I just shrugged and told him I needed sleep, that's all.

Eventually a younger looking tuk-tuk driver approached me and said, "OK, I can take you to town." I asked, "How much?" He said, "It's very far. Three dollars." I don't argue or bargain. I am, after all, in a dark alley in the middle of nowhere. I had fallen asleep in the minivan (hard to believe, but I did it) and I didn't even know which way was north. I jumped into the tuk-tuk and asked him, "You know where Ivy Guesthouse is?" He said yes and we sped away. But he didn't take me to Ivy Guesthouse. His friend chewed him out on the road and he drove me first to the Bakong Guesthouse, where all the other tourists were being driven to en masse. It seems I was the only one to put up a fight, to demand a choice in the matter, to demand, simply, a voice in the matter.

My tuk-tuk driver's friend interrogated me. Would I like to check out the rooms? No thanks! You will use driver to see temples tomorrow? "Maybe, " I said, "if he takes me where I want to go tonight." Then he asked, "You have booking?" And I lied to him flat out, "Yes, I have a booking at the Ivy." I'm sorry, but it seems that your company dropped us off to a bunch of bandits. It seems they do not understand the basic rule of entreprenueralism: Good service will be rewarded with patronage. Treating me like a dumb, illiterate ATM machine is not a beacon of good service.

I finally got to Ivy Guesthouse. It was leaps and bounds more attractive than the Bakong. I paid the driver his $3 USD and wrote down his name and phone number in case I needed his services in two days to visit Angkor Wat. You see, I wanted to save him face, for he was surely in for a stern scolding or possibly a beating back at the local tuk-tuk cartel. He had let a tourist get away... But I had no intention of calling him. If he shows up the day after tomorrow I will tell him, sorry, but I went to Angkor Wat "yesterday," the instant code-word to get the swarms of tuk-tuk drivers off your back and to save them face.

In essence, because of the poor services your transport company has given me, coupled with a tendency of the Cambodian transport industry to give poor services for inflated costs to the foreign tourist, because of this I have had to become a liar in Cambodia. I do not like who I have to become in order to survive in your country. Back in Laos, I met many travelers who said they did not enjoy Cambodia, simply because of the scams being pulled on the backpackers. This has long been true of Vietnam: a reputation for scamming has kept many a backpacker away. I met an Israeli backpacker in Don Det who was skipping Vietnam to go to Myanmar instead, simply because he heard that the "Vietnamese just want your money." In Laos, when you ask a tuk-tuk driver to take you somewhere, he takes you there, no questions asked. In fact, tuk-tuk drivers who pull the "free ride if you stay at so-and-so guesthouse" are poorly spoken of in Laos. This is one of many reasons why I enjoyed Laos very much, and I will recommend the country to everyone within earshot.

I write this letter to you today with the hope that you will improve your services by bringing your customers to their destination, as promised on their ticket stub. A simple improvement like that will make travelers more at ease in travelling in Cambodia, thus ensuring a healthy reputation in the region. In the meantime I am sending copies of this letter to online travel guides and as many of my fellow backpackers as possible. My hope is that the next band of tourists driven into a dark alley in the middle of Cambodia will revolt and demand the driver take them to their destination. My ultimate hope is that tourists do not have to revolt against their transport operators in Cambodia in the first place.

Thank you for your time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go see Angkor Wat. By bicycle.

Sincerely,
Chuck Adams
American backpacker
Siam Reap, Cambodia

Help! I'm Stranded in Paradise!

Fell upon a touch of the "food poisoning" last night. A horrific affair, duly noted by my omnipresent sarong-clad runs to the shared bathrooms in the middle of the jungle. This delays my planned exodus to Cambodia by at least a day as I rest up and overcome a modest fever. However, I am in Paradise (literally, that's the name of my bungalows), otherwise known as Si Phan Don, (the highlight of my SE Asian sojourns thus far, more details when the Internets 'come cheaper!) and hope to be fully recovered soon, as soon as the banana milkshakes and banana pancakes and banana enemas takes effect...

It is hard to escape Paradise.