Going independent in Rwanda..... A whim away, a whim away.

I'll admit that even I was a little nervous about the idea of coming to Africa without the support and structure of a guided tour. Heck I even lied to my parents about it. I ssured them that we were doing this trip wrapped in cotton wool with every meal and every toilet stop pre-planned by a money hungry tourist outfit. But, in the end, we decided that we could do it solo (we aren't the first, I did loads of research) and by doing it solo we would save a packet (more money for more primate tours?), we could come up with our own Salange slothful itinerary, and we could chose when and where to pee.

So, we are here now, faces in the lonely planet, doing Kigali like every other independent traveller before us.

We started with lost baggage. The process of filing the report certainly had a feeling of Thai style Mai Ben Lai but it was dashed with more assurance than I've come to expect from my second homeland. This was perhaps the first instance of I'm not in Thailand anymore that I felt. The second came soon after when a woman of traditional size and costume booted me from my seat in the baggage claim waiting room. Hey, it was my fault for not offering it up. Facial to me.

My bag eventually showed up (as promised) but not before I invested in a tacky tourist T-shirt and a couple of pairs of granny undies. Oh how I will enjoy shopping in Africa. If I lost my bags coming to Thailand for the first time I would have had to purchase two pairs of knickers and taken them to a tailor to sow them together!!

GETTING THE GORILLA PERMITS

Anyway, I really want to talk about the process of obtaining the gorilla trekking permits. Maybe someone will stumble upon this and find it useful. Maybe it's only my mum and sister reading and they are still freaking out about the independent in Rwanda part of this post.

After days and days of reading forum after forum about trusted and untrusted gorilla tours I decided to just contact the Rwanda Develpment Board (formally ORTPN) and organise everything directly with them. I sent off a quick email to reservation@rwandatourism.com and got a quick reply from Norbert. He gave me some date options, I wired 1000 US bucks to the RDB bank account (not going lie, I was extremely nervous this - why is his email address .com?!?!) and then I emailed him a copy of my bank transfer. Two weeks later (yep, I did all of this two weeks before coming to Rwanda. Probably not a good idea in high season) I rock up to the new RDB offices, not the ORPTN building listed on the lonely planet map, and I picked up my two permits.

Piece. Of. Cake.

Ok, so we still need to get ourselves to the the National Park. But we are still going to do this as efficiently and independently as possible. Hello 5 dollar bus trip.

More to come. Hopefully some pics of baby gorillas too!!!

A whim away.....

Our hotel is in a leafy suburb on one of the many hills of this city. We walked around (and got lost) yesterday and i was mesmerized the whole time by my surroundings. The people we passed on the street. The billboards. The immaculate roads with the less than immaculate driving. The huge houses on the left that we're hiding behind giant brick walls. The small huts that lined the hills on my right. I couldn't work out what I was looking at. Couldn't put it all together. It was (and is) unlike any where I've been before. I'm mean there are elements of everywhere topped off with elements that are completely new to me.  Not surprising I guess. I haven't been to this city or this country or even this continent before!

Now, the thunder and heavy drops of rain is cooling of the heat of day here in Kigali. I actually still can't believe I'm here, in Rwanda, in freaking Africa. 

We ventured out to be tourists today, first picking up our gorilla trekking permits (the ease of this process was unexpected!) and then a stop at the genocide memorial and museum. Nothing could have prepared me for it. Nothing to stop me from crying. Or from asking why? Or for just being mad at the world for allowing it all to happen. Even now I'm taking long and silent pauses to find words. Huh, how fucking obnoxious of me. I wasn't there. I barely even heard about it. I was 14. I should've known. All this just makes me even more sad and angry. 

But, one thing I did learn today is that there is no time or room for anger for the people of Rwanda. How they have rebuilt this country in less than 20 years is something that you really need to see for yourself. 

I'm sure that I'll continue to think about the darkness that drove this country to genocide just 18 years ago for the rest of this trip. Hopefully for the rest of my life. 

The optimist is hoping that the world will never allow this to happen again. 

The realist is afraid that it is already is. Not here. But somewhere. 

Wedding marathon continues....

So I'm on the plane to Singapore for my third wedding in a week. I'm fairly determined to catch the flowers at this one, maybe even take a bitch out in the process, but I'd be a little embarrassed if that bitch was wearing a sari and my elbow got caught on her muffin top (although there prob won't be muffin tops at this wedding, these are some hi-so spunky Indians that can eat paneer without regret). **Edit - there was no bloody flower catching to be done! 

Tiger airways has been my most hated and most loved budget airline today. The chick at the check in counter was beyond stupid. The thinking outside of the box skills were on vacation. Most hated budget airline. But! They sell wine in a can on the flight.  For 150 baht! Favourite budget airline status awarded.

The lady next to me was reading a book about stool (STOOL!) I couldn't help but see it. Why was she doing that? Why? On a plane? I updated my status about it, I hope she didn't read over my shoulder. I hate biatches that do that.

Are you enjoying the stream of consciousness that is happening right now? I think it's because of my new favourite airline and the 150 baht canned wine.

Hey? What are your feelins about chair recliners on a short budget flight? Like, do you do it? I think I tend to only do it if the person in front of me does it and while I am doing it I usually raise a knee sharply/accidentally into their back.

Id like another can of wine.

 Hang on. The captain is speaking. Bastard said we at going to be 50 minutes late. Lucky we had those wine cans. Or I might downgrade Tiger again.

Just realized that I'm going to Singapore and I didn't stock up on chewy. Disaster. Can we talk about the no chewing gum rule for one second? Weirdest/dumbest rule ever. Second over.

This is Sarah's plan for the weekend:

• See orangutans
• Find a parrot to tell her fortune
• Eat a pepper crab
• Walk on the sidewalk (dream big lately?)
• And maybe find a wedding outfit (um, lastminute.com?)

We will do the first and the second last only. Don't tell her. She'll work it out in good time.

Wanna know what is going on at the wedding this weekend? Twitter: @rpwedding2011 You won't regret it. Or you might.

Why so much love for Koh Chang?

I am fussy and spoiled for choice in the land of smiles. Perhaps I am verging on high maintenance (Blame the GF). But fuck, where are the beaches Koh Chang? Oh, there they are, littered along the awful strip of White Sands (think Pattaya complete with Russians and hookers and Russian hookers) and buried beneath the dreadlocked patchouli festation on Lonely/Nature beach. I mean, I had a great time, especially when we went lush for a week at GajaPuri - THAT PLACE WAS PHENOMENAL! But when the budget kicked in we found ourselves in a beachless resort for a few days and then in a boat themed resort complete with an anchored cruise ship-turned hotel (ridiculous, kinda scuzzy, but satisfactory because of the cruise/ghostship). Look, we made our own fun and we made do with what we had and what we wanted to spend, all I am saying is that if you could instead go to Krabi or Ko Phan Ngan or maybe even Phuket, then you prolly should do it. OK, maybe not Phuket. 

But if you love rocky shores and overpriced 1950s beach resorts you will love Koh Chang. Or if you are happy with a little grot for a spot on the beach you will also find some heaven. But if you are of the flash packing variety who needs a little AC with her clean sheets you might want to reconsider the long drive to this far away land - unless you have some dollars to spend. In which case you will check into GajaPuri and never leave! 

You see what I love about the beaches and islands of Thailand is that they were quietly discovered and converted into hippy refuges before they slowly emerged into the flashpacking scene which meant that I could find myself a comfortable (CLEAN, A/C'd, ENSUITED) room for less than 50 bucks that was within spitting distance to the whitest bloody sand you could imagine. Heck, if you are lucky your comfortable room is on the fucking sand. But Chang seems to have been discovered by the resorts. They stole all the beach access. They built behemoth resorts and jacked up their prices but haven't renovated in 50 years. I WANT A HUT WITH A/C, CLEAN SHEETS, CLEAN ENSUITE AND A HAMMOCK. ON THE SAND.  Is this too much to ask for Ko Chang, is it?!?!?

Oh God, I sound like a freaking whiner. And you are thinking that I went to Koh Chang and I hated it. But I didn't. And you are freaking out cos you are already on your way there. Shit, sorry. Relax. It is fine. You'll find roti and squid and beer and sand and crystal clear water and nemo fish. You can avoid the hookers or pay for em. You can buy sarongs and plait your hair. You can get a fake tattoo or a real one. You can buy a bucket with sharing straws and drink it all by yourself. It's the real deal, it's Thailand. It's all there. It's just not as awesome as what you will find elsewhere – it's a long way to go for it not to be awesome. Don't you think?

I mean lucky for me I went with awesome people. So clearly I didn't give a shit about the other stuff.

Blog's back....

My sister's blog is active. Like once a week active. And she makes me laugh. Sometimes I am laughing with her, sometimes it's at her, but still she is #winning. She is winning the who-is-the-most-addicted-to-the-computer competition and the who-has-the-better-blog competition. But she shouldn't be winning, she hates technology! Her biggest tech accomplishment (aside her active blog) is summed up in a few pictures she did with Microsoft Paint! Microsoft Paint! FFS! She loathes technology and it loathes her. But she is still #winning. What does this mean for me and my self esteem? A big effin #FAIL.

So I'm making a comeback spurred on by the weekly updates of my big sis and those of her blog buddy over at Chickens and Bees. I need some new direction though, something that will get the creative juices flowing. (TANGENT: What the eff is creative juice? Does it smell?) I guess I could ramble on about the floods in my hood. Or the lack of floods. Or the messed up politics that surround the floods and that are infuriating the outer limits of the city. Or maybe I could chat about our floody escape? Or maybe you would prefer 700 words about my crippled cat that pees and craps just outside the tray? I mean my sister wrote about sneezing ffs.

Or maybe I need a whole new direction,  a new template, a new title, some writing buddies, new adventures, real stories, passion.... stay tuned folks this shit is about to get real.

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.