Beer. Booze. Baseball.

Camden Yards, Baltimore. Home to the Baltimore Orioles. A magnificent
sporting arena. I'm not gonna lie, I was super excited about my first
baseball game. I wasn't excited about our seats though. The nose
bleeds are fine, that wasn't the problem. It was the 50 pre-teen Jesus
camp kids that surrounded us. The red headed kid with braces who
shouted to his buddy "Are they lesbians?" as we took our seats made me
laugh but mad Sarah kinda grumpy at the world. I did want to shake his
hand and say "Yes we are and now you are too!" but Sarah wouldn't let
me. Instead we moved seats away from their judging eyes. And drank
expensive (and crappy) beers.

Baltimore. The city that feeds.

Who would have thought that the city mad famous by The Wire would
offer such culinary delights? Stoops sitting and drive by drug drops
are not the only things to do here.

A city rich in history like B'more it really shouldn't be a surprise
that you can fill your days (and your stomach) with a variety of
delicious culture and flavour rich snacks. The Lexington Market is
right in the heart of the city and Faidley's seafood can not be
missed. When ordering a Jumbo Lump Crabcake my friend (the local)
asked for cocktail sauce. The reply? "There is no way you be putting
cocktail sauce on my lump crabcake!" Damn! She was schooled on that!
And rightly so, those crabcakes did not need any imitation sauces.
Baltimore, Maryland, your crabcakes are devine.

Day two. More feasting. This time it's the almost century old Attman's
deli on our to do list. I love corned beef. I was in heaven. My corned
beef with mustard on rye was jammed with at least 400g of beef. Check
this shit out:

When beer and water are the same price...

I've been in Bangkok a while. I hang out on Sukumvit. I got used to paying well over 100 baht for a pint or a stubby. I had forgotten that as soon as you step out of the city and head up north, the beer gets cheaper and cheaper. Chiang Rai I hate your cheap beer. My head is a mess today because of you and your cheap beer. Your cheap and cosy guesthouses. Your walking streets. Your smiling faces. Your cheap as water beer. Damn you.

I had to rally this morning and get on a bus bound for Chiang Khong in order to get across the Mekong into Laos. Is a midday wakeup considered a rally? I was S.T.Rugglin this morning Chiang Rai and I blame you...

But I also thank you. A fucking awesome night.

Not an easy silence

Post redshirts Bangkok. A few days of unwelcome silence. For everyone. Yeah some folks thought of nothing else but the rubble of Central World. Some folks were still reeling at the government. Hopefully everyone was deeply saddened by the loss of life. There were still so many questions and too many opinions.

For most of us we just wanted peace back in our city. I felt for the redshirts who were desperate for a change and must have felt abandoned by their leaders but I also felt for the businesses and the employees who were already months out of work and months out of salary.

As the days crept by the traffic began to grow, the clean ups began and the signs of the redshirt city were starting to fade. For me, it just meant back to work. My seniors had sad their exams, my G11s had them coming right up. My task list was in chaos and my city (for once) was not.

No school for a week? I'm going to Mumbai my friends...

I wont say that I was over the moon about school closing for a week. The circumstances weren't exactly pleasent. But an excuse to head to Mumbai and spend the week with Sla, not an opportunity I am going to pass up, pending Indian visa application...


I've had troubles with the old Indian Visa application process already. It seems I visit Mumbai too frequently. Now, they only give me a 30 pass and I need to chat with a head moustache at the embassy. Pain. In. The. Ass. 


So, what are my chances of getting a visa issued in one day in Bangkok? Unheard of they tell me at the one stop visa centre. Mai Dai. No way. Don't even try. Well where is the fun in that? I gotta try right? A week in Mumbai with Sla, I gotta at least try. Let's not fail to mention how close the redshirt action is to my house - the view from my balcony was getting far too good to stick around.


Moustache and me, we had a chat. I kissed his ass. He lapped it up. He stamped 'URGENT, ISSUE TODAY'. Heart racing, cheeks smiling - I'm going to see my bird!


But let's not get too carried away, it's not a holiday. It's India for a start. And I had lessons to deliver each day - but heck, from a computer in an apartment in Mumbai, thousands of kilometres from RAMA IV... awesome. I'll take it.

Do you hear the people sing?

It is calm in the redshirts camp (at the moment) but I don't know how these folks are living there. The temps are meant to be peaking at just under 39 degrees but if you add 5000 people in close proximity, high rise buildings which limit air movement and then the car, motorbike and air-con fumes, the weather is well above 40 degrees. "Even the Thais are sweating" is how a friend of mine describes the heat right now. 

It's probably not great that Bangkok's redshirt city reminds me of a scene from Les Mis'. But seriously, check out those freaking barricades!
Maybe not a great idea to wander there, maybe not an excellent idea to whistle "Do you hear the people sing" while I walked. But you try to go there and not do the same thing...singing the songs of angry men...

(But, I am really not keen on the outcome being anything like Broadway's.)

As the shit storm flies into town....

Something isn't right in my city. The malls are closed. The malls. In Bangkok. Closed. I thought that the malls and their massive conglomerates (The Mall Group, Central people, Emporium/Paragon) were the real and true owners of this city. It saddens me that these malls are closed. It's not because I want to join the masses in search of air conditioned bliss during all non-working hours. It's that I know what it means to shut down a mall in a city of malls. Fear and danger. Sad day.

From the Philippines to India. Goodbye gentle, hello mental

The Philippines just shot straight to the top of list of places that I love to visit. I can't really put my finger on one reason why, but I suspect that it has a lot to do with the cheap beer, gorgeous beaches, amazing dive sights, lack of frustrations (a rare thing when travelling anywhere in Asia) and the cheap beer (not a typo, it deserves two mentions, it's that cheap). Unfortunately the food really does live up to the expectation that it wont be great. It wasn't. Although the Bicol delights that we enjoyed in and around Donsol and Legaspi were great, the coconut and chillis in the food reminded me of home (Bangkok, not Melbourne).

We squeezed a lot into our 10 days of island hopping but still managed to feel somewhat relaxed and beach bummed. If I had my time again I might skip Siquijor, although we did love The Kiwi Dive resort (and our fabulous DM Raul), and spend more time diving Apo Island. But both were great; white sand, clear water, all that the Philippines promises and never fails to deliver. Beofre heading over to Apo Island, at Malapatay, we stumbled upon the Wednesday market. A lucky treat for our early morning hungry bellies. Who would have thought that half a kilo of suckling pig would go down so well? Man alive I would love some more of that right now!

After some of the greatest and most enjoyable diving of my short dive history, J and I made the long trek from the southern point of Negros all the way to Donsol (some 33 hrs). The journey started with a picturesque coastal bus ride (think Great Ocean Road) and then an overnight 12hr ferry experience. J, myself and a few hundred Filippinos decked out on bunk beds across three levels of a huge, but sturdy, ferry. With fear in our eyes and hearts we drank beer. With beer in our bellies we slept. A half day on a sand bar a few kms from Masbate ended up being 3 hours of being stared at and secretly photographed (did I arrive in India already?). Then it was two hours on a fast boat to Pilar. One hour on a jeepney to Donsol. Where the hell are those sharks?!?

Exhausted but excited we arranged our whale shark adventure for the very next day...and the next... and the next...

With 5 days still to play with on Spring break I used my 6 hour stop over in Bangkok to wash and pack and then I set off on my mini adventure to Mumbai and Goa. I was trying to add things up, I think it might have been my 7th visit to the capital of Maharastra in about 18 months, not a bad effort really. Obviously my motivation for regular trips is a romantic one, but still, it takes a strong effort to intentionally put yourself through the India experience. Head down and frown on I strolled confidently to the pre-paid taxi rank and made my way to Bandra West. Gut instict got me to Sarah's house. Some cheeky preparations and secret messaging with maids got me inside. Then, I waited for Sarah to get home from work for the surprise to kick in. I never intended to leave the empty beer bottle out. I didn't expect Sarah to freak out and have visions of a beer drinking scary male intruder. Sarah, with Bhutanese bow and arrow in hand and ready to fire, wasn't the welcome that I hoped for! Disaster averted with a quick smile and a laugh. Phew! (Note to self, Sla Lewis is not good with surprises!)

A night in Mumbai and then a day to kill while the better half was working. I thought I might really do some sight seeing. I didn't. But I did find some great snacks at a new bakery cafe in the Bandra hood. Theobroma, your brownies I salute.

Next stop, Goa. (Is this post too long? I'm not feeling super creative and perhaps I am boring you?)

Whale sharks are our friends

There are no words (in my vocab anyway) that describe the fear, excitement and joy that J and I had swimming with the whale sharks of Donsol, Philippines. These guys are freaking giants of the sea, the biggest we saw tipped the metre stick at about 12 and it had me completely speechless. Imagine being just a few metres and swimming alongside something that long? Not only long but huge! The tails on these guys are instant reminders that they are sharks and not whales and they are instantly obviously super effin strong. A gentle side swipe from one of these guys would have you rocket propelled to shore (or to the sandy bottom of the ocean). Lucky for us, these guys are as gentle as they say and they are just out for a feed. For the most part they aren't too pissed off with the human presence but the occassional douchbag does get in the way so the mammoth fish just start diving for the bottom like a submarine avoiding attack. It's still kinda surreal that we spent the better part of three days swimming so close to these guys. There were hesitations and some frustrations. Often we felt that we weren't acting in the best interests of the sharks but it was important to remind ourselves that only ten years ago the boat captains were spotting these fish for dinner and not for the pleasure of tourists. There is an interest in maintaining some long term eco friendly tourism in this little town and they are trying hard to find a balance between the good and the bad. I'm not sure they have found it yet, many of the sharks were crowded with snorkellers (the maximum 6 rule rarely obeyed) but they are getting there. And the numbers don't seem to be falling. Just avoid it on the weekends, that is when it gets nasty busy.

Boats, bikes and beach hunts

J and I set off on our hike in search of the White sandy beach. We found churches and confirmations a plenty. We met drunk men and baby goats. We nearly crashed into puppies and chickens. But no White sandy beach! We think the tide might have been against us. Oh well. The water was blue and inviting enough.

It's 11am, that's beer time right?

Motorbikes, cock fights and sunburned knees

J and I rented ourselves a little 100cc battler today and ventured south of Dumaguete in the hope of seeing some white sands along the coast and possibly some waterfalls inland. We saw neither. But, we did manage to stumble into a cockfighting stadium and were lucky (or unlucky) to witness some serious sport in action. First they size up their cocks, the get them out and compare them, then they make a deal and they prepare their cocks for fights. Seriously. The preparation involves some fluorescent tape, giant stainless steel spurs, and a little Thai style foot massage and knuckle cracking. At the end of the fight when all the bets are done and some folks are happy and others not-so-much you can witness the resident cock doctor doing a little surgery on his lap. I mean he has the cock on his lap and the medical tools and he is sewing that little thing back up again. They say that after a month or so the cocks are ready to fight again. Poor little fellas. (Note: All puns intended)

Coffee and cramming

Having done a very limited amount of pre-planning, J and I spend our
first 5 hours in Bo's Coffee shop trying to decide on our next move.
Each coffee sparks another brain cell and clear idea. It's destination
Apo Island and the rumour of an annual Fiesta!

Chocolate Easter Egg Hunt

Woo hoo I found a sign of Easter hiding in BKK. The Landmark hotel is keeping the chocolate secrets, at reasonable prices too! (Rumour has it that there will be hot cross buns on Friday!)

Uncle Madi - greatest taxi driver of all time

Frustrated that the oldest taxi in the world was the next one coming down the road I jumped in and asked him to U-turn. Thirty seconds later, the familiar sound of a flat tyre. Just under my ass. I probably turned a shade of red thinking (ridiculously) that my frame had caused this blow out! Obviously, it hadn't. "I got the puncture because I hit the curb back there!" he told me in perfect English. I stayed around and helped him change the tyre. We bonded and talked about his worldly travels, his education background and his worry about the future of Thailand. "It's all money, dirty money" again, perfect English.

I am sorry that I judged Uncle Madi's cab before I even got in, it was the greatest ride home ever. Take a minute to talk to your driver today, you might be pleasantly surprised.

Creative juices are dripping

So I found this thing called flavour.me and it appears that I can create a kind of hub for my social networking addictions and my rarely updated blogs. Will this new hub get the juices flowing? Maybe?

My last visit to the Philippines was right at the height of my blog writing phase/craze, I'm back there again in a week. Perhaps I can rekindle the love and enthusiasm that I lost to the simplicity and brainlessness of facebook. But again, if I wrote, who would read? I guess you are here.... thanks

Show me the money!

Ok, Dubai is out of control. You got a crazy idea? It can be your crazy reality. You want to build the most luxurious hotel. The tallest tower. The aquarium with the biggest single bit of glass. You want to serve the most expensive cocktail in the world. You want to create an island shaped like a tree. Heck, here in Dubai there is even talk of cooling the sand on the beach to prevent foot burn. Here in Dubai, you got the money, you got the big dream, you just go for it! I mean I've only been here 48 hours, hardly a pro on all things Emirati, but from what I've seen (the luxury 4WDs and sportscars occupying every residential garage is only the beginning) people have some serious money, and have nothing serious to spend it on.

I'm hanging out with Ash and Kent who are about 4 months localised. From their apartment I got the first glimpse of the most ridiculously jam packed skyline I've ever seen. (Admittedly from A and K's place you can't tell that the majority of the skyline is made up of cranes and the skeletons of yet to be completed big ideas - but still! WOW!) My first impression of Dubai in the daylight probably wasn't true to the Emirate. I mean I caught a fabulous glimpse of nothing but desert as we flew over and into the sandpit but then Ash and Kent quickly taxied me off to a fenced in stepford wives city of neatness. When my hosts popped off to work the next day I explored this city of perfection. Manicured gardens on the sidewalks. Manicured nails on the residents. I cycled Ash's bike taking in each and every one of the luxury vehicles that layed dormant in the sheds. The unused swimming pools. Basketball courts. Tennis courts. This place was a playground for the wealthy - but the folks were clearly wealthy enough that they paid other people to do the playing. I would've got used it...

In the evening we mingled with the locals - briefly. Ash introduced me to her shwarma man. I'll take one of each. Later, I will impress someone with my knowledge of this little street side stall (I will let you know how that goes in due time). Braving the cold (yes, it's cold. Fkn freezing actually) we headed into town. (Jenna - not the cat, the person - was also with us. I hadn't seen Jenna in at least 3 years, possibly 4? It was great to see her and to see that she hadn't changed! Laughter just seems to follow that girl!) So, we are en route to the Burj that is shaped like a sail. The 7 star hotel. The picture of ridiculousness in Dubai. Of course we weren't going into the Burj, but we were in the vicinity. The 360 Bar. The coldest place on the planet. With the fancy wine list. And kick ass price tags. Red wine kinda warmed us up. Kent was on the money with the whiskey straight up. Jenna slightly dissapointed with her 7 potato wedges - what did she expect? Get on the golf buggy, take the man made island compacted sand road back to the mainland. An awesome view of everything. But this little Bangkokian was just freezing her non existent tits off!

With a jacket in hand I might go back there with a bird very soon.

Bizarre border rituals, radical rock gardens and the Dali Lama's Dharamsala

I'm cruising back through my facebook photos to job my memory about what I did next... I've been prompted by Ash to get my ass into gear and update my blog - mostly because she asked me for travel advice about a town I visited about 2 months ago and I can't recall a bloody thing about it.... but I do remember when Ash and Wendy left me to tackle the rest of India solo... well, as solo as one can get in a country of nearly one billion...

Chandigargh... a place on the map that gets me outta Delhi... and only 4hrs by train... I'm on it. Nothing to do in Chandigargh but blow your budget on accomodation, unless of course your fav Indian student hails from the area. Then you get a local shouting you samosa and tea - lovely Kanu, thank you very much :-)
Oh and there was that super bloody weird rock garden - what a kooky place to kill some time! And go on romantic outings with your partners I soon learnt. Every nook and cranny that I came across was already occupied by canoodling 20 somethings.... get a room? Or something?

Open the Lonely Planet and see what comes next... this is hard to do this retrospectively.

I can't remember if I had a plan at this point or not? All I knew was that it was hot, hot hot... and the rumour on the street was that the north was not. Not. Not. Amritsar, your border ceremony awaits me.

I'm bored at the moment... need to do this when I am drunk....

Back dating keeps me looking organised

Ever since I learnt that you can back date your posts with blogger I have become super lazy at posting things as they happen (anyone who ever checks here regularly will know that that is complete bullshit, I've always been lazy with my posts). But, hey, at least I am making an effort to log in and reflect on past experiences? Right? So... I need to go way back to the time when Wendy and Ashley took me to that place with no beer... oh happy days... well actually the happy days begun with the train trip outta there! Ok, drama overload.. .it wasn't that bad... hippy's, yoga enthusiasts, vegetarian food... certainly not limited to only Rishikesh!

Train trip back to Dehli was bearable... although the staring was at an all time high... Ashley on her last stint of patience with the head wobbles, the staring and the moustaches... it was always highly entertaining for me, but I will admit that in the company of the dark haired yet fair eyed Ashley I didn't really receive that much attention... but it left me with more time to work on my Bruce Sprinstein remake of Dancing in the Dark. Which I sang to rapturous applause from the Indian men for which the song was about....

The train trip however was the end of the bearability of all things related to Delhi... our attempts to stay in a cheap guesthouse away from the hoards of tourists failed... dodgy back street after dodgy back street littered with dirty guesthouses ran by scary men had us going back on our goals and following the hoards - back to Parhaganj and the relative safety of the tourist strip....

Sweat, dust and cow shit... Dehli in a nutshell.... add to that some politcal unrest and the closing of all markets that might have been of interest left us with little to do but walk around temples and forts and fend off silk sellers - for three days... I did fall in love with lassis and ate ten too many samosas and photographed one too many unnatractive eunuchs... but that was about it... three days in Delhi... 2.5 days too many....

It's town number two without booze n meat....

Long before the birds woke up and began their daily chores, Wendy, Ashley and I crawled out of our big bed gathered our worldly possessions and went in search of the 4am bus outta here! Imagine the oldest bus in the world, no older than that, and then imagine us riding it for the better part of the next 10 hours.... is the rest of my India adventure going to be littered with such long and painful bus journeys? (For a heads up, yes it will be...)

Rishikesh... hatha yoga centre of the world. Was I bouncing with excitement about the thought of heading to a town without beer. Without meat. And with oodles and oodles of yoga? Well, no, I wasn't... but Ashley is a yoga bunny and I had no other ideas about where I wanted to go!

Ashley tried to convince me to join her in some yoga action, I must apologise for being so stubborn. But it just didn't appeal. Bending. Stretching. Turning yourself into a huge knot of skin. I need the gym. And hotties to check out. And loud music. And stuff. (Sorry ash....)

I think we chilled in little Rishikesh for 3 days or so. Despite me not participating in the mandatory yoga sessions, or silencing my trap for 10 days in a wild Vipassana retreats, I managed to enjoy the peace and quiet and the coffee and the bakeries... and I finished my book....