When I got to my hotel in Phnom Penh, the first thing the hotel rep said to me was "you want g" and as he started to say the "g" I thought, "oh shit, in this town even the hotel staff want to sell sex." The next sound to come out of his mouth, however, wasn't that of the "earl" variety, but of the "un" kind. He explained--there is a shooting range just outside of Phnom Penh where you can shoot AK-47s, M16s, and all sorts of crazy stuff--and its all legal.
Phnom Penh doesn't have the best reputation among cities--it is considered by some to be the most dangerous capital in S.E. Asia because of the amount of guns around--so safety was a priority in picking my hotel. Lo and behold, where do I wind up? At a place owned and operated by the family of a Cambodian general. The hotel rep who made me the offer? One of his soldiers. Apparently, the Cambodian government doesn't pay their soldiers enough, so they have to moonlight or take second jobs to make ends meet (which is probably why they have a corruption problem as previously discussed). Unless there was a govt. coup in the next two days, as long as I stayed at that place, I would be safe.
I was coming off of a six hour bus ride from hell, and needed to blow off some steam--so what better way to do it than by literally blowing something up--even if it was only a paper target. The place was about 30 minutes from town, right next to the airport and a military base. In fact, the place is actually run by members of the Cambodian military. As to be expected, the place was located in a dirt-filled alleyway. Sorry Forrest, but its Cambodian alleyways, not life, that is like a box of chocolates--you never know what you are going to get--one day it can be a brothel, the next day a "massage" parlor, and the next day, a shooting range filled with military surplus weapons.
The place looked the sketchy part, by having a camo net strewn across its entrance, as well as a gate with an armed guard, but it was perfectly legit. I was given the menu (i would have taken a photo, but they were expressly forbidden), and discovered that the place's name was "the Happy Club"--in a country filled with brothels and all sorts of sex businesses, the last thing I expected was for a place called the Happy Club to be a shooting range. I had plenty of options--M16s, AK47s, pistols, rifles, chinese rifles, machine guns, grenades, and even a rocket launcher (conducted elsewhere, but available to try, with a gas tank target for $350).
I decided to join the America haters and selected Russia's most famous export as my firearm of choice--the AK-47. I was scared and slightly nervous, but after firing off the first round and not feeling much of a kick, I started to get the hang of it. Since I was having so much fun, I decided to stick around and try shooting an M16, which was much smoother and had less of a kick. After reviewing my targets, I have learned one thing: if America reinstates the draft and decides to choose me for sniper duty, I'd suggest fleeing to Canada ASAP, because we as a nation are screwed if we have to rely on my piss-poor aim for our nation's defense. I managed to hit the paper, just not the actual "human" part of the target.
So, 30 minutes and $80 poorer, I emerged from the Happy Club feeling like a real man--and yes, I posed with my AK-47 in a photograph.
Shooting isn't the only thing I did in Phnom Penh, but that will have to wait for tmw, as I also describe boring Battambang, my 8 hour boat ride, and my time in Banjarmasin (finally).
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Bus operators and bar girls
Well, it's raining in the dry season here, so go figure (rainy season starts in June, so its not unprecedented). I'm now in Battembang.
This post isn't going to be in chronological order, as it is a summary of the past two days that I've spent on buses and in Phnom Penh, and will instead compile some common themes/experiences during the past two days.
As I have mentioned before, the giant elephant in the room when you visit Cambodia is the sex industry--not only the legal sex industry, but the child sex industry as well. Well, I ended up having dinner on my last night in Siem Reap next to a german couple with two young children. It turned out that the husband actually consults for an NGO trying to end the child sex industry in Cambodia. We start to talk, and he tells me some interesting tidbits. Though it seems that everywhere you walk in Cambodia you see publicly funded signs telling people to report child sex criminals, and to protect children, the reality isn't so simple. According to him, the Cambodian government acts like it is against the industry, but the problem is that the government and public safety officials are so corrupt because they are paid so poorly that they are often bought off by those who traffic in the child sex trade, and thus look the other way. Besides families actively selling their children into the trade, which is due to the extreme poverty suffered by lots of Cambodians, there are also active groups of criminals who raid primarily ethnically Vietnamese villages to take children. This guy has seen victims as young as three years old, and says that it is the Chinese and the Koreans, not Westerners, that are the main participants in the trade.
Its a clandestine, secretive world that the child sex traffickers operate in, and having heard plenty about it, you can't help but wonder what these places are like and where they are located. In fact, part of me wishes that the Cambodian government or an NGO investigating these matters would use me as a trojan horse--persuade somebody to take me to one of these places, and then call in the cavalry to bust the traffickers and then lock them up and throw away the key and then ensure that the children are spirited away to a safe and secure location where they can begin the process of recovery.
Meanwhile, in Phnom Penh, the legal sex industry is all around you--and you don't have to look very hard to see it. Just look for the mid-50s white males being escorted around by young Cambodian women who are young enough to be their daughters or granddaughters. They are everywhere--including the most popular/visited places in Phnom Penh.
Because Phnom Penh has such a notorious scene, I had to see one of these "girlie bars" for myself. Bad decision. It was quite possibly one of the sleaziest experiences of my life, and I will need at least a week's worth of showers (and quite possibly a sulfuric acid bath) to get the sleaze off of me. Again, think older mid-50s balding European males surrounded by women half their age and all over them--and not very attractive women as well. Some of these girls didn't look old enough to drive, let alone be in a bar--and these places were less than a block from the riverfront area that are lined with plenty of legitimate hotels and restaurants. To complete the sketchy scene, one woman even brought one of their kids to the bar. To paraphrase Reese Witherspoon, "you have a baby...in a [girly] bar."
In Siem Reap, though, you don't even have to go to a sketchy bar to be hit on by prostitutes--there is a bar in the pub street area that isn't a girly bar, but allows about 10 or so prostitutes to work there on any given night. I was talking to an American fresh off the plane from the University of Georgia, and he was attracting some unwanted attention by a working girl, so that's when I said another thing a straight single man should never say to a girl--"We're gay. We're together." It took her a second, but she figured it out and left us alone. Mission accomplished. In the interest of full disclosure, it's not the first time I've pretended to be gay--at Yale, we had this event called "casino night," and the per person rate for couples was cheaper than the per person rate for singles. So what did I and just about everyone else who went dateless but went with friends do to save a couple of bucks? Pair up at the door with someone in our party. Granted, this prompted more than its fair share of eye rolls, since the party was thrown by members of my dorm, and they knew that I wasn't gay, but they couldn't say anything since they would have done the same thing.
Meanwhile, I've had two more experiences that can be included under a list entitled "hell is..." being on a Cambodian bus with limited air conditioning, surrounded by screaming children, and stopping every half an hour for a good six or seven hours. I hate buses--I'd much rather prefer to either fly or take the train. In Cambodia, though, there is only one domestic air route, between Siem Reap and Phnom Penh, and the train tracks are, in the words of Lonely Planet, "more crooked than a Cambodian politician," which means trains are even slower than buses. This means that there is only one realistic option of getting around Cambodia--by bus.
Remember my description of the highway in Sumatra? Well, the main national highways in Cambodia are similar, but with less big trucks on them. There are, however, more pick ups and drop offs en route. Apparently, "express bus" in Cambodian translates to "stop several times en route to pick up and drop off people at random locations, and for several rest stops that are so rickety that they are a jet engine blast away from falling down." Khmer drivers also use the horn constantly--a necessity when they try to pass on the single lane roads, but I'm pretty sure when they installed the horns in the buses, they did it the wrong way--it seemed to be blowing in the direction of the passengers, not the outdoors. So, the blast occurs every five minutes or so.
If someone can invent a pocket sized cell phone reception blocker, I will pay them dearly for it. The only thing more annoying than people loudly talking on their cell phones in a language you can't understand are people talking loudly on their cell phones in a language you can understand. I also think that whoever invented the "customized ringtone" should be given a headset permanently strapped to their ears that plays every single annoying ringtone over and over again for the rest of their lives--and this includes Celine Dion's "my heart will go on" which is bizarrely popular for Khmer males.
There are also the adorable, yet annoying children. I realize that your children may be the apple of your eye, and its so great that they are exercising their bicep muscles by pounding and clinging to seat in front of them, and its so cute how they use their little legs to stomp all over the floor, and its simply a miracle of life that they can use their cute little lungs to squeal and cry and make all sorts of little noises, but to everyone else on a long bus ride, it is a form of torture that should be banned by the laws of the Geneva convention.
There isn't a lot to see out the window on a bus in Cambodia--just ricefields--lots of them, and without the scenic background of volcanoes like in Java or being filled with water and having good reflections. Just boring countryside.
What do Cambodian bus operators and Cambodian bar girls have in common? They both tell you want you want to hear--the bar girls, its obvious, but with the bus operators, they tell you it will only take four hours. Well, the Cambodian bus schedules are like the last five minutes of an NBA game--the time is pretty much irrelevant, and usually take an hour or two more to complete than you think. A general rule of thumb: add at least an hour to whatever time the bus operator tells you its going to take. If anything, this experience has only reaffirmed by stance that I have a five-six hour limit on buses--any longer, and I go nuts.
More to come on Phnom Penh...
This post isn't going to be in chronological order, as it is a summary of the past two days that I've spent on buses and in Phnom Penh, and will instead compile some common themes/experiences during the past two days.
As I have mentioned before, the giant elephant in the room when you visit Cambodia is the sex industry--not only the legal sex industry, but the child sex industry as well. Well, I ended up having dinner on my last night in Siem Reap next to a german couple with two young children. It turned out that the husband actually consults for an NGO trying to end the child sex industry in Cambodia. We start to talk, and he tells me some interesting tidbits. Though it seems that everywhere you walk in Cambodia you see publicly funded signs telling people to report child sex criminals, and to protect children, the reality isn't so simple. According to him, the Cambodian government acts like it is against the industry, but the problem is that the government and public safety officials are so corrupt because they are paid so poorly that they are often bought off by those who traffic in the child sex trade, and thus look the other way. Besides families actively selling their children into the trade, which is due to the extreme poverty suffered by lots of Cambodians, there are also active groups of criminals who raid primarily ethnically Vietnamese villages to take children. This guy has seen victims as young as three years old, and says that it is the Chinese and the Koreans, not Westerners, that are the main participants in the trade.
Its a clandestine, secretive world that the child sex traffickers operate in, and having heard plenty about it, you can't help but wonder what these places are like and where they are located. In fact, part of me wishes that the Cambodian government or an NGO investigating these matters would use me as a trojan horse--persuade somebody to take me to one of these places, and then call in the cavalry to bust the traffickers and then lock them up and throw away the key and then ensure that the children are spirited away to a safe and secure location where they can begin the process of recovery.
Meanwhile, in Phnom Penh, the legal sex industry is all around you--and you don't have to look very hard to see it. Just look for the mid-50s white males being escorted around by young Cambodian women who are young enough to be their daughters or granddaughters. They are everywhere--including the most popular/visited places in Phnom Penh.
Because Phnom Penh has such a notorious scene, I had to see one of these "girlie bars" for myself. Bad decision. It was quite possibly one of the sleaziest experiences of my life, and I will need at least a week's worth of showers (and quite possibly a sulfuric acid bath) to get the sleaze off of me. Again, think older mid-50s balding European males surrounded by women half their age and all over them--and not very attractive women as well. Some of these girls didn't look old enough to drive, let alone be in a bar--and these places were less than a block from the riverfront area that are lined with plenty of legitimate hotels and restaurants. To complete the sketchy scene, one woman even brought one of their kids to the bar. To paraphrase Reese Witherspoon, "you have a baby...in a [girly] bar."
In Siem Reap, though, you don't even have to go to a sketchy bar to be hit on by prostitutes--there is a bar in the pub street area that isn't a girly bar, but allows about 10 or so prostitutes to work there on any given night. I was talking to an American fresh off the plane from the University of Georgia, and he was attracting some unwanted attention by a working girl, so that's when I said another thing a straight single man should never say to a girl--"We're gay. We're together." It took her a second, but she figured it out and left us alone. Mission accomplished. In the interest of full disclosure, it's not the first time I've pretended to be gay--at Yale, we had this event called "casino night," and the per person rate for couples was cheaper than the per person rate for singles. So what did I and just about everyone else who went dateless but went with friends do to save a couple of bucks? Pair up at the door with someone in our party. Granted, this prompted more than its fair share of eye rolls, since the party was thrown by members of my dorm, and they knew that I wasn't gay, but they couldn't say anything since they would have done the same thing.
Meanwhile, I've had two more experiences that can be included under a list entitled "hell is..." being on a Cambodian bus with limited air conditioning, surrounded by screaming children, and stopping every half an hour for a good six or seven hours. I hate buses--I'd much rather prefer to either fly or take the train. In Cambodia, though, there is only one domestic air route, between Siem Reap and Phnom Penh, and the train tracks are, in the words of Lonely Planet, "more crooked than a Cambodian politician," which means trains are even slower than buses. This means that there is only one realistic option of getting around Cambodia--by bus.
Remember my description of the highway in Sumatra? Well, the main national highways in Cambodia are similar, but with less big trucks on them. There are, however, more pick ups and drop offs en route. Apparently, "express bus" in Cambodian translates to "stop several times en route to pick up and drop off people at random locations, and for several rest stops that are so rickety that they are a jet engine blast away from falling down." Khmer drivers also use the horn constantly--a necessity when they try to pass on the single lane roads, but I'm pretty sure when they installed the horns in the buses, they did it the wrong way--it seemed to be blowing in the direction of the passengers, not the outdoors. So, the blast occurs every five minutes or so.
If someone can invent a pocket sized cell phone reception blocker, I will pay them dearly for it. The only thing more annoying than people loudly talking on their cell phones in a language you can't understand are people talking loudly on their cell phones in a language you can understand. I also think that whoever invented the "customized ringtone" should be given a headset permanently strapped to their ears that plays every single annoying ringtone over and over again for the rest of their lives--and this includes Celine Dion's "my heart will go on" which is bizarrely popular for Khmer males.
There are also the adorable, yet annoying children. I realize that your children may be the apple of your eye, and its so great that they are exercising their bicep muscles by pounding and clinging to seat in front of them, and its so cute how they use their little legs to stomp all over the floor, and its simply a miracle of life that they can use their cute little lungs to squeal and cry and make all sorts of little noises, but to everyone else on a long bus ride, it is a form of torture that should be banned by the laws of the Geneva convention.
There isn't a lot to see out the window on a bus in Cambodia--just ricefields--lots of them, and without the scenic background of volcanoes like in Java or being filled with water and having good reflections. Just boring countryside.
What do Cambodian bus operators and Cambodian bar girls have in common? They both tell you want you want to hear--the bar girls, its obvious, but with the bus operators, they tell you it will only take four hours. Well, the Cambodian bus schedules are like the last five minutes of an NBA game--the time is pretty much irrelevant, and usually take an hour or two more to complete than you think. A general rule of thumb: add at least an hour to whatever time the bus operator tells you its going to take. If anything, this experience has only reaffirmed by stance that I have a five-six hour limit on buses--any longer, and I go nuts.
More to come on Phnom Penh...
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
"'Buy nothing cost 10,000 dollars"
Cambodian kiddie touts can be somewhat impressive. When one little girl told me "t shirt 2 dollars" and I responded "I buy nothing," her response was "buy nothing cost 10,000 dollars." I was tempted to buy something from her after that, just to reward her for her creativity.
Its also nice to see that some of the touts have a sense of humor about themselves. When I was at Angkor Wat at sunset, where those pictures were taken, I was walking back to my tuk tuk, and one tout, with baby in hand, said among the chorus of "cold drink, t-shirt, necklace" "you want my baby?" At least, I hope she was joking. As I mentioned before, Cambodia has a problem with child exploitation, so she might have been serious.
BTW, if the U.N. ever wants to help out Cambodia in a serious way, I'd consider starting a program to recruit Cambodian translators. Little kids, some as young as five or six, know phrases and sayings in at least 4 different languages, including Chinese and English. Some of them are already borderline fluent, or have at least robotically memorized passages in terms of what to say. An 11 year old camped out at a temple took me to a side passage that I would have never seen to visit a buddha statue and altar--and gave a full explanation for everything--and even remembered to say "mind your head" repeatedly. I don't like to give money to kids, because it encourages begging, but this kid had rendered a service, and impressively so at that, so I gave him a 2 singapore dollar note--I didn't have any one dollar bills with me at the time.
Unfortunately, there's also an uglier, seedier side to Cambodian children, and I'm not talking about them being exploited--sometimes they are the hostile ones. Last night, I witnessed two Cambodian kids, with mother looking on approvingly physically hold onto two tourists' bikes and refused to let go until they gave them money. I tried to step in and help out, and one of the kids actually hit me. These two kids, no more than 10 years old, were holding up a pair of adult tourists. It was disgusting to watch, and unfortunately there were no tourist police around.
Meanwhile, I did something the other day that no single adult male should ever do: I said I was married. In my defense, I said it in response to the offer of some taxi and tuk tuk drivers to show me some ladies, and that was the only way to get them to leave me alone. Unfortunately, I still ended up seeing some of the ladies because I was hanging out with two guys at a well-known and popular bar in the tourist district, and one of the folks mentioned that a taxi driver had recommended going to this club about two blocks away. So, the three of us just decide to check it out. You always know you are in for an experience when you follow a foreign cabbie's advice, and I had a hunch that this "club" was probably just a brothel disguised as a club. To be fair, that wasn't exactly true. The place was a four-in-one: karaoke, a "massage parlor," a brothel, and a club. It had all the ambience of a laser tag arena. We were asked immediately if we wanted some girls, but politely declined. In the cabbie's defense, we weren't promptly kicked out--it was actually a club, and if you didn't want any female company, they didn't have any problem with it. I tried to strike up a conversation with the only other two white people in the room, a pair of russian girls who were not club employees, but them knowing little english and me knowing little russian. I managed to accomplish the rare feat of talking to people while only using three phrases "me no gavaroo pa russki" "da" and "you speak english." The scene was actually pretty funny, made even more so by the fact that the loudspeakers started playing some 80s soft rock in an attempt to set a romantic mood. The club had a pool table, though, and the three of us split a pitcher of beer while we played pool, and left after finishing the pitcher.
I also found out that the "coke" I was offered was indeed that of the powdered variety--this time, when it was offered by the same guy, he said "cocaine." According to the Lonely Planet guidebook, Cambodian cocaine actually isn't cocaine--its pure powdered heroin, and has killed many a tourist over the years.
Again, there's one thing that a tourist should never do in a foreign country, and that is take illegal drugs. If you think any differently, go watch the movie "Brokedown Palace" or watch an episode of National Geographic's "Locked up abroad." Just about every episode in the series involves someone getting busted for drugs in a foreign country, and the U.S. prison experience is country club life compared to life in these foreign prisons.
I feel like a snob for saying this, but you do need at least three days to see Siem Reap/Angkor Wat--there's simply too much to do, and if you try to rush it, you will end up either hating all the temples or dying of heat exhaustion or both. The temples I visited yesterday were spectacular in their own right, even if their size didn't match Angkor Wat or Angkor Thom, and would have been even more spectacular had the moats surrounding them been filled with water, completing the full effect. Besides, the tourist office sells only 1 day/3 day/7 day passes, priced at 20/40/60, so if you are only here for two days, you end up paying the same price as for three days.
As I discovered today, though, you should probably make it four. I went to a temple about a 90 minute tuk tuk ride away from Siem Reap, and entirely separate from the Angkor Wat temple complex (you even have to buy a different ticket, but its only five bucks, and its more than worth it). The place is called Beng Melela (or something like that) and the place is spectacular. Hidden slightly in the jungle, and internally destroyed by trees and collapsed walls, it looks like a hybrid construction site/temple. I was sweating like a pig, but if you ever wanted to feel like Indiana Jones discovering some site, this is the place to fulfill that fantasy (if you can ignore the wooden staircases). Guides will let you clamber around the various rubble sites in order to get to hidden passages and chambers, all safe for exploration.
Anyway, I meant to post a banjarmasin update today, but I was feeling kind of queasy, and slept instead.
I'm probably headed off to Phnom Penh tmw.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Angkor
Another hot, sweltering day in Cambodia. I spent six hours at the temples today, and the size and scale of these things are just obscene. Angkor Wat is the name of the largest temple, but the name is also used to refer to the complex of around 70 or so other temples built in the area. Each one of the temples are worthy of being a tourist attraction in their own right--the problem is that even medium sized ones are simply dwarfed by the giants and heavy hitters of the field, like Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom.
Other than the weather, the problem with Angkor Wat is that temple fatigue can set in early. After you've seen the biggest and most spectacular ones, its kind of hard to get excited about seemingly minor ones that actually aren't that minor. When you are exploring the various temples, there are literally only two thoughts in your head: i can't believe what I'm actually seeing/holy..., and it is really hot outside.
Because this is the dry season, it also happens to be low season for tourism. Why? Because many of the temples were built surrounded by water filled moats that often dry up in the dry season. That said, if this is low season in terms of tourism, I'd hate to be here in the high season. As expected, the temples are swarming with tourists as it is. I can't imagine there being twice as many people here and having to elbow your way through--well, actually, I can. Last night after visiting one of the earlier complexes recommended by lonely planet that were okay compared to some of the other ones I saw, I went to climb a temple to see the sunset. Of course, everybody else was trying to do that as well, which meant it got a little tight at times (although nothing could compare to Bromo, when people were basically shoving their way past others to get the perfect shot).
Also, even though we are tourists, it is important that we remember that these sites are considered to be sacred by the locals, and we should probably treat them as such. Meaning: if you wouldn't do something in your place of worship or sacred place, then you probably shouldn't do it here. I know its hot, and most of us look like we've just entered into a wet tshirt contest, but that's why we have water bottles and towels. There's no excuse for taking your shirt off at a holy site. Yes, I'm referring to you, Mr. older European tourist. I nor anybody else watching the sunset needed to see your man boobs.
Last night, in going to the overlook site, I saw Angkor Wat for the very first time. It was one of those things that started out with a whimper, but ended with a bang. The main road drives around the moat, and all you can see from the side is a long wall hidden by some trees. Then as you turn the corner, you see the bridge, and then Angkor comes at you like a sledgehammer. My jaw dropped. It's that spectacular.
The scale of the place is unimaginable until you've actually seen it. It's simply gigantic, both in terms of area and in height. Its amazing to think that the temple was generally constructed entirely by hand, with no machine use whatsoever. Angkor is just one single solid temple.
Angkor Thom isn't as well-known (it's number 2), but it is also spectacular, with a much wider variety of carvings and temples. It's not as physically big, but what makes it worth visiting are the various faces carved into the decently sized temple of Baphoun (or Bayon), and the elephant and leper king terraces, with long and detailed reliefs carved into them.
My favorite by far was Ta Prohm because it actually looks like how a "ruin" should be--it has giant tree roots literally on top of the walls and tearing parts of the temple apart. I wish I could go into way more detail about these places, but the best way to describe it is jaw dropping.
Furthermore, unlike Borobodur and Prambanan, the landscaping choice made by the Cambodian government still gives it a hint of feeling like the temples are hidden in the jungle, even though paved roads wind throughout the area. Walking into Borobodur and Prambanan feels like you are walking onto the golf course of a five star resort. Riding into Angkor Wat feels like you are entering a national park, surrounded by giant trees and lots of vegetation.
How have I been going about? By motorized trishaw--you can hire them for 15 bucks a day, and they take you anywhere, but I feel like in my case I'm kind of getting ripped off. My driver is the hotel manager's brother, and the best way to describe him would be the character/waiter Damon Wayans plays in Beverly Hills Cop--he has a bit part as a waiter offering Eddie Murphy some fruit. My driver is a dead ringer for the character.
The problem is that my driver is also kind of lazy. Yes, I know it's hot out, but you aren't the one out in the sun exploring temples with a tweaked knee (probably the product of sleeping in the airport). You're cat napping in the shade with the tuk-tuk. Since Cambodia is somewhat of a reserved culture, flipping out on the guy isn't going to do me any good. Basically, at 2pm, I wanted to continue to do some exploring, but he wanted to go back to town. I really didn't have much of a choice in the matter, though.
I do have a choice tmw., though, and some of the places I would like to go to are considerably farther out and would probably require a car and driver to get there.
The place I am staying in is kind of nice, but its also kind of quiet, and I'd like to be in a more social environment. I also know that I can get a similar room for a similar price elsewhere, if not cheaper (like across the street), so I'm going to do some research after I get done. I'm paying 13 bucks for a double room with a hot and cold shower and air conditioning--about par for the course--and the room is cleaned every day. That said, they also charged me 11 bucks for laundry, when I should have just gone outside and walked five yards and given it to any number of places advertising $1/1 kilo of laundry. You really don't have to spend much to get a decent room here (in contrast, the hostel I looked into staying at charged 8 bucks for a bed in a dorm with a/c and shower, but its also more of a party hostel)--which is why I find the number of 4 star and 5 star hotels in the area to be pretty funny.
Note to all recovering alcoholics: do not visit Cambodia, because good, cheap booze is everywhere. A standard draft of the national beer, called Angkor, or of any of the various regional beers (ie Tiger, Chang) will set you back a grand total of 50 cents. A fifth of Johnnie Walker Red is 12.50 USD. Buy one get one free deals are all over the place.
In terms of money, they have a bizarre system where they use US Dollars for anything and everything over one dollar, but Cambodian riel for anything under a dollar--meaning that if you buy something that costs fifty cents and give them a buck, you will get 2,000 Cambodian riel back. Riel, btw, is worthless outside of Cambodia--you literally cannot exchange it at any place outside the border.
I was also offered coke for the first time in my life, and marijuana several times. I didn't stick around long enough to determine whether it was of the Atlanta-brewed and medicinal variety or of the other kind. I was on a well-lit street frequented by other westerners when it occurred, literally 10 steps from the main restaurant area of Siem Reap, and promptly picked up my pace . Needless to say, I have no desire to experience what the Cambodian justice system is like firsthand.
Cambodian kids can be ridiculous. Their parents have figured out that tourists are more likely to buy from children than adults, so they pester you once you are at all the temple sites. They've also memorized the various cities in several countries. When one asked me if I was from Canada, I said yes, just to play along. The girl proceeded to spout off "Canada. Capital: Ottawa. Main cities: Vancouver, Calgary, Edmonton, Winnipeg, Toronto, Montreal....etc for about 15 more names." When I told her I was from the U.S., Texas, she said "oh, texas, capital Austin, main cities...." It was like I was talking to a robot.
What is sad is that some of these kids can speak certain phrases with nary an accent, those phrases being "cold drink one dollar no problem" "you want tshirt 1 dollar, history book" "please mister buy cold drink for your driver, etc." It would be funny if it wasn't so blatantly tout-like.
Other than the weather, the problem with Angkor Wat is that temple fatigue can set in early. After you've seen the biggest and most spectacular ones, its kind of hard to get excited about seemingly minor ones that actually aren't that minor. When you are exploring the various temples, there are literally only two thoughts in your head: i can't believe what I'm actually seeing/holy..., and it is really hot outside.
Because this is the dry season, it also happens to be low season for tourism. Why? Because many of the temples were built surrounded by water filled moats that often dry up in the dry season. That said, if this is low season in terms of tourism, I'd hate to be here in the high season. As expected, the temples are swarming with tourists as it is. I can't imagine there being twice as many people here and having to elbow your way through--well, actually, I can. Last night after visiting one of the earlier complexes recommended by lonely planet that were okay compared to some of the other ones I saw, I went to climb a temple to see the sunset. Of course, everybody else was trying to do that as well, which meant it got a little tight at times (although nothing could compare to Bromo, when people were basically shoving their way past others to get the perfect shot).
Also, even though we are tourists, it is important that we remember that these sites are considered to be sacred by the locals, and we should probably treat them as such. Meaning: if you wouldn't do something in your place of worship or sacred place, then you probably shouldn't do it here. I know its hot, and most of us look like we've just entered into a wet tshirt contest, but that's why we have water bottles and towels. There's no excuse for taking your shirt off at a holy site. Yes, I'm referring to you, Mr. older European tourist. I nor anybody else watching the sunset needed to see your man boobs.
Last night, in going to the overlook site, I saw Angkor Wat for the very first time. It was one of those things that started out with a whimper, but ended with a bang. The main road drives around the moat, and all you can see from the side is a long wall hidden by some trees. Then as you turn the corner, you see the bridge, and then Angkor comes at you like a sledgehammer. My jaw dropped. It's that spectacular.
The scale of the place is unimaginable until you've actually seen it. It's simply gigantic, both in terms of area and in height. Its amazing to think that the temple was generally constructed entirely by hand, with no machine use whatsoever. Angkor is just one single solid temple.
Angkor Thom isn't as well-known (it's number 2), but it is also spectacular, with a much wider variety of carvings and temples. It's not as physically big, but what makes it worth visiting are the various faces carved into the decently sized temple of Baphoun (or Bayon), and the elephant and leper king terraces, with long and detailed reliefs carved into them.
My favorite by far was Ta Prohm because it actually looks like how a "ruin" should be--it has giant tree roots literally on top of the walls and tearing parts of the temple apart. I wish I could go into way more detail about these places, but the best way to describe it is jaw dropping.
Furthermore, unlike Borobodur and Prambanan, the landscaping choice made by the Cambodian government still gives it a hint of feeling like the temples are hidden in the jungle, even though paved roads wind throughout the area. Walking into Borobodur and Prambanan feels like you are walking onto the golf course of a five star resort. Riding into Angkor Wat feels like you are entering a national park, surrounded by giant trees and lots of vegetation.
How have I been going about? By motorized trishaw--you can hire them for 15 bucks a day, and they take you anywhere, but I feel like in my case I'm kind of getting ripped off. My driver is the hotel manager's brother, and the best way to describe him would be the character/waiter Damon Wayans plays in Beverly Hills Cop--he has a bit part as a waiter offering Eddie Murphy some fruit. My driver is a dead ringer for the character.
The problem is that my driver is also kind of lazy. Yes, I know it's hot out, but you aren't the one out in the sun exploring temples with a tweaked knee (probably the product of sleeping in the airport). You're cat napping in the shade with the tuk-tuk. Since Cambodia is somewhat of a reserved culture, flipping out on the guy isn't going to do me any good. Basically, at 2pm, I wanted to continue to do some exploring, but he wanted to go back to town. I really didn't have much of a choice in the matter, though.
I do have a choice tmw., though, and some of the places I would like to go to are considerably farther out and would probably require a car and driver to get there.
The place I am staying in is kind of nice, but its also kind of quiet, and I'd like to be in a more social environment. I also know that I can get a similar room for a similar price elsewhere, if not cheaper (like across the street), so I'm going to do some research after I get done. I'm paying 13 bucks for a double room with a hot and cold shower and air conditioning--about par for the course--and the room is cleaned every day. That said, they also charged me 11 bucks for laundry, when I should have just gone outside and walked five yards and given it to any number of places advertising $1/1 kilo of laundry. You really don't have to spend much to get a decent room here (in contrast, the hostel I looked into staying at charged 8 bucks for a bed in a dorm with a/c and shower, but its also more of a party hostel)--which is why I find the number of 4 star and 5 star hotels in the area to be pretty funny.
Note to all recovering alcoholics: do not visit Cambodia, because good, cheap booze is everywhere. A standard draft of the national beer, called Angkor, or of any of the various regional beers (ie Tiger, Chang) will set you back a grand total of 50 cents. A fifth of Johnnie Walker Red is 12.50 USD. Buy one get one free deals are all over the place.
In terms of money, they have a bizarre system where they use US Dollars for anything and everything over one dollar, but Cambodian riel for anything under a dollar--meaning that if you buy something that costs fifty cents and give them a buck, you will get 2,000 Cambodian riel back. Riel, btw, is worthless outside of Cambodia--you literally cannot exchange it at any place outside the border.
I was also offered coke for the first time in my life, and marijuana several times. I didn't stick around long enough to determine whether it was of the Atlanta-brewed and medicinal variety or of the other kind. I was on a well-lit street frequented by other westerners when it occurred, literally 10 steps from the main restaurant area of Siem Reap, and promptly picked up my pace . Needless to say, I have no desire to experience what the Cambodian justice system is like firsthand.
Cambodian kids can be ridiculous. Their parents have figured out that tourists are more likely to buy from children than adults, so they pester you once you are at all the temple sites. They've also memorized the various cities in several countries. When one asked me if I was from Canada, I said yes, just to play along. The girl proceeded to spout off "Canada. Capital: Ottawa. Main cities: Vancouver, Calgary, Edmonton, Winnipeg, Toronto, Montreal....etc for about 15 more names." When I told her I was from the U.S., Texas, she said "oh, texas, capital Austin, main cities...." It was like I was talking to a robot.
What is sad is that some of these kids can speak certain phrases with nary an accent, those phrases being "cold drink one dollar no problem" "you want tshirt 1 dollar, history book" "please mister buy cold drink for your driver, etc." It would be funny if it wasn't so blatantly tout-like.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Sweltering Siem Reap
Now, I haven't exactly been doing a grand tour of siberia on this trip in terms of temperature, but Siem Reap may be the hottest place I've been yet. Walking around in it feels like you are next to a blast furnace or in a car with rolled up windows in the midday heat in an open parking lot. It's that hot.
Fortunately, though, I came prepared with a bit of a reinforcement--a new tube of sunscreen thanks to the extensive pre-departure shopping opportunities at Changi airport. In terms of sleeping arrangements, I've certainly slept in worse places, and I could have been even more comfortable had I just walked about 100 yards or so. I slept on some plastic bucket seats along with several other people--the budget carrier, Jetstar, has about five or six flights that leave between 6 am and 7 am, which means that people are unable to take the MRT to the airport. When I woke myself up at 3 on purpose, hoping that the counter would be open early (it wasn't) I walked over near the counter and found a spotless floor clean enough to lay on--which several other people were also doing. I'd say about 50 or so people actually slept at the airport last night, and none of us were hassled by the Singapore cops.
So, what does that mean? I've officially entered and left Singapore twice, without having once stepped out of the airport terminal.
Also, Americans aren't the only ones who leave their brains behind when they come to the airport--Singaporeans do to. In front of several of us in line were a group of about 20 0r so high school grads--acting like they were in line, and claiming they were when asked, but not actually moving, completely absorbed in conversation with each other while an empty gap grew between them and the line to the counter, frustrating all of us stuck behind them. (for what its worth, the reason I know they are singaporeans and not merely a group of students of east asian descent from an unknown country is that several of them clearly bore a passport with a carmine red cover, clearly written on which was "Singapore").
For whatever reason, Singapore's terminal two pre-departures area turns into a popular visitation sight for natives on the weekend--tons of families were out with their kids, treating it like your run of the mill mall food court. Apparently, to encourage people to use Changi, the airport even subsidizes the cost of food so that you generally aren't paying more than downtown singapore prices.
On Jetstar: if I were flying an Indonesian airline, I would have had a heart attack--but since I was flying a Qantas owned and operated carrier, I merely had a panic attack. One of the engines wouldn't start at first, but after the pilot merely restarted the computer, everything worked fine. Fortunately, that was the scariest moment of an otherwise smooth and enjoyable flight. What was significant about this flight, though, was that for the first time since my flight from Hong Kong to Singapore, there were more than five white people on the flight. In some cases, I have literally been the only white guy on the plane--in others, merely one of just a token minority of 5 or so. The plane was about 1/3 white and 2/3 asian--somewhat understandable when you consider the plane's destination is a premier tourist attraction).
Another note about Jetstar: they could work on their customer service. When I was trying to buy my ticket, last night after arriving from Penang, there was a line of about five or so people also looking to do the same. Meanwhile, there were at least five idle employees, some blatantly doing anything other than working (like reading the newspaper, playing with each other's hair, or using their own personal cell phone). While the guy who was working did indeed do a good job, they might want to tell their employees that the last thing waiting customers want to see is their staff blatantly ignoring them.
Cambodia's visa process appears a bit intimidating, but its relatively simple--fill out a form, pay 20 bucks, and you get a visa. The intimidating part? After you give them your money they hand your passport over down a 10 person line of serious looking jacket-uniformed officials all of whom are sitting and staring at you. It felt like being at a tribunal, but I got my visa with no hassle, so I can't complain.
Random notes that I can't really fit in anywhere:
I am pretty sure I saw Krakatoa on my flight from Jakarta to Singapore--I saw a steaming, smallish mountain surrounded my no other mountains on the northwest side of a strait between two larger islands. The setting perfectly matches Krakatoa's--whether it was actually Krakatoa, I'm not sure (I wanted to go and visit, but it would have been a long day trip from Jakarta, and expensive as well--I'll save it for the next time).
Both Malaysia and Indonesia are majority muslim countries. While Indonesia has its own national beer, Bintang, and freely advertises it, hard liquor is relatively hard to find. Hard liquor in Malaysia, however, is relatively easy to find, but the country lacks a national beer promoted in the same manner as Bintang. Mom and Dad: I don't purposely go looking for this stuff and I'm certainly not drinking all that much considering it is relatively expensive to do so, esp in Malaysia, it's just from what I've seen when I go to grocery or convenience stores to buy water or food.
Apparently, lots of Vietnamese girls work as prostitutes in Cambodia--they tend to like europeans, whereas Cambodians like darker skinned males. You can expect to pay about $40 per night for "boom" time in Siem Reap. All of this information was freely volunteered to me, a single white male travelling alone, by my Cambodian cabbie taking me from the airport to the hotel. And no, my lead-in question wasn't "so, how's the red-light district?" It was merely about the night life in general since I've heard that the place is starting to have a pretty good bar scene.
In Cambodia, at some of the temple sites (I bought a three day pass--the problem is that the heat gets so unbearable by about 1130, that you end up taking a siesta/break of sorts from noon til 4 before going back out again) the main touts are children--all trying to get money or selling you something. While it is certainly annoying, and making me increasingly appreciate the innocence of the "hey meestir, can I practice engris?" inquiries by Indonesian schoolchildren, I can't really be too critical, because they could be doing something much worse: Cambodia has a huge problem with child exploitation, and poor families are sometimes forced to sell some of their kids to work in brothels. Fortunately, the U.S. govt. is doing its part in trying to stop this horrendous practice in passing a law within the past several years that gives U.S. officials the right to prosecute U.S. citizens who have travelled abroad with the intention of partaking in the child sex trade.
Thus the one group of solicitors that I actually gave money to was a group representing an orphanage just down the road from one of the temples.
Fortunately, though, I came prepared with a bit of a reinforcement--a new tube of sunscreen thanks to the extensive pre-departure shopping opportunities at Changi airport. In terms of sleeping arrangements, I've certainly slept in worse places, and I could have been even more comfortable had I just walked about 100 yards or so. I slept on some plastic bucket seats along with several other people--the budget carrier, Jetstar, has about five or six flights that leave between 6 am and 7 am, which means that people are unable to take the MRT to the airport. When I woke myself up at 3 on purpose, hoping that the counter would be open early (it wasn't) I walked over near the counter and found a spotless floor clean enough to lay on--which several other people were also doing. I'd say about 50 or so people actually slept at the airport last night, and none of us were hassled by the Singapore cops.
So, what does that mean? I've officially entered and left Singapore twice, without having once stepped out of the airport terminal.
Also, Americans aren't the only ones who leave their brains behind when they come to the airport--Singaporeans do to. In front of several of us in line were a group of about 20 0r so high school grads--acting like they were in line, and claiming they were when asked, but not actually moving, completely absorbed in conversation with each other while an empty gap grew between them and the line to the counter, frustrating all of us stuck behind them. (for what its worth, the reason I know they are singaporeans and not merely a group of students of east asian descent from an unknown country is that several of them clearly bore a passport with a carmine red cover, clearly written on which was "Singapore").
For whatever reason, Singapore's terminal two pre-departures area turns into a popular visitation sight for natives on the weekend--tons of families were out with their kids, treating it like your run of the mill mall food court. Apparently, to encourage people to use Changi, the airport even subsidizes the cost of food so that you generally aren't paying more than downtown singapore prices.
On Jetstar: if I were flying an Indonesian airline, I would have had a heart attack--but since I was flying a Qantas owned and operated carrier, I merely had a panic attack. One of the engines wouldn't start at first, but after the pilot merely restarted the computer, everything worked fine. Fortunately, that was the scariest moment of an otherwise smooth and enjoyable flight. What was significant about this flight, though, was that for the first time since my flight from Hong Kong to Singapore, there were more than five white people on the flight. In some cases, I have literally been the only white guy on the plane--in others, merely one of just a token minority of 5 or so. The plane was about 1/3 white and 2/3 asian--somewhat understandable when you consider the plane's destination is a premier tourist attraction).
Another note about Jetstar: they could work on their customer service. When I was trying to buy my ticket, last night after arriving from Penang, there was a line of about five or so people also looking to do the same. Meanwhile, there were at least five idle employees, some blatantly doing anything other than working (like reading the newspaper, playing with each other's hair, or using their own personal cell phone). While the guy who was working did indeed do a good job, they might want to tell their employees that the last thing waiting customers want to see is their staff blatantly ignoring them.
Cambodia's visa process appears a bit intimidating, but its relatively simple--fill out a form, pay 20 bucks, and you get a visa. The intimidating part? After you give them your money they hand your passport over down a 10 person line of serious looking jacket-uniformed officials all of whom are sitting and staring at you. It felt like being at a tribunal, but I got my visa with no hassle, so I can't complain.
Random notes that I can't really fit in anywhere:
I am pretty sure I saw Krakatoa on my flight from Jakarta to Singapore--I saw a steaming, smallish mountain surrounded my no other mountains on the northwest side of a strait between two larger islands. The setting perfectly matches Krakatoa's--whether it was actually Krakatoa, I'm not sure (I wanted to go and visit, but it would have been a long day trip from Jakarta, and expensive as well--I'll save it for the next time).
Both Malaysia and Indonesia are majority muslim countries. While Indonesia has its own national beer, Bintang, and freely advertises it, hard liquor is relatively hard to find. Hard liquor in Malaysia, however, is relatively easy to find, but the country lacks a national beer promoted in the same manner as Bintang. Mom and Dad: I don't purposely go looking for this stuff and I'm certainly not drinking all that much considering it is relatively expensive to do so, esp in Malaysia, it's just from what I've seen when I go to grocery or convenience stores to buy water or food.
Apparently, lots of Vietnamese girls work as prostitutes in Cambodia--they tend to like europeans, whereas Cambodians like darker skinned males. You can expect to pay about $40 per night for "boom" time in Siem Reap. All of this information was freely volunteered to me, a single white male travelling alone, by my Cambodian cabbie taking me from the airport to the hotel. And no, my lead-in question wasn't "so, how's the red-light district?" It was merely about the night life in general since I've heard that the place is starting to have a pretty good bar scene.
In Cambodia, at some of the temple sites (I bought a three day pass--the problem is that the heat gets so unbearable by about 1130, that you end up taking a siesta/break of sorts from noon til 4 before going back out again) the main touts are children--all trying to get money or selling you something. While it is certainly annoying, and making me increasingly appreciate the innocence of the "hey meestir, can I practice engris?" inquiries by Indonesian schoolchildren, I can't really be too critical, because they could be doing something much worse: Cambodia has a huge problem with child exploitation, and poor families are sometimes forced to sell some of their kids to work in brothels. Fortunately, the U.S. govt. is doing its part in trying to stop this horrendous practice in passing a law within the past several years that gives U.S. officials the right to prosecute U.S. citizens who have travelled abroad with the intention of partaking in the child sex trade.
Thus the one group of solicitors that I actually gave money to was a group representing an orphanage just down the road from one of the temples.
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Sleeping in Airports, SE Asia edition
Yes. I am actually going to be sleeping in an airport tonight. Why? Because my flight to Siem Reap/Angkor Wat Cambodia leaves at 6am, and its next to impossible to get to Singapore's airport that early unless you are willing to pay an extortionate amount of money. Also, because I arrived in the late afternoon in a rainstorm, and was unable to book ahead at any hostel, I really didn't want to play the game of going from hostel to hostel (in case one didn't have any beds--remember its saturday night here) in the rain and humidity, especially when it would only be for a grand total of one night.
In a true case of the world being incredibly incredibly small, I was hanging out in the common area of the hotel I was staying in, and was talking to some other people, and it came out that this one Irish girl had an American passport because she was actually born in the states. I ask her where, and in a remarkable coincidence, it turns out she was born in December of 1986 at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore because her dad, a doctor in Ireland, was doing some training there. I told her where I was born (showing my passport as proof I wasn't full of it) and that my dad was also doing training there as well. Mikey boy hasn't gotten back to me whether he remembers running into her father, but even if he doesn't, the sheer coincidence is bizarre nonetheless--especially since both of us left Baltimore when we were six months old.
Was unable to go to Lebuh Katz because I simply ran out of time in Penang, but I did see the Jewish cemetery--small, and somewhat forboding because it appeared to be closed and there was a big dog out in front. Fortunately, they had a caretaker there who shooed off the dog and showed me around. Even though it was free, I donated about 20 MYR because the grass needed to be mowed, and Penang's Jewish community no longer exists, now living elsewhere. I also went up to Penang Hill this morning, which was a mistake because it was cloudy and overcast, and you couldn't see much, and it took about three hours.
I also got screwed out of about 50 MYR by a cab driver. I told the guy specifically that I wanted to go see the Snake Temple before going to the airport (it was on the way) but he missed the turn and claimed that traffic would be too heavy, and that I would miss my flight. What he really wanted was to help out some of his buddies, since he could have only earned a maximum of about 50 MYR for the snake temple/airport run, whereas by taking me to the airport and forcing me to take another cab, he forced me to spend about 88 MYR total (40 MYR to the airport, 48 MYR roundtrip from the snake temple to the airport).
I knew I would regret it if I didn't make it to the snake temple, but the place didn't really live up to its hype, and wasn't worth the 48 MYR roundtrip cab ride. The snakes (pit vipers that the monks claim are pacified by the nature of the temple and therfore won't strike) aren't actually slithering around on the ground right next to you--instead, they are up in pedestals. Sure, they aren't behind a cage, but its not the experience I imagined it to be.
Anyway, because I'm doing this at an airport kiosk, this post will have to be curtailed, and you will have to find out about Banjarmasin another day.
In a true case of the world being incredibly incredibly small, I was hanging out in the common area of the hotel I was staying in, and was talking to some other people, and it came out that this one Irish girl had an American passport because she was actually born in the states. I ask her where, and in a remarkable coincidence, it turns out she was born in December of 1986 at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore because her dad, a doctor in Ireland, was doing some training there. I told her where I was born (showing my passport as proof I wasn't full of it) and that my dad was also doing training there as well. Mikey boy hasn't gotten back to me whether he remembers running into her father, but even if he doesn't, the sheer coincidence is bizarre nonetheless--especially since both of us left Baltimore when we were six months old.
Was unable to go to Lebuh Katz because I simply ran out of time in Penang, but I did see the Jewish cemetery--small, and somewhat forboding because it appeared to be closed and there was a big dog out in front. Fortunately, they had a caretaker there who shooed off the dog and showed me around. Even though it was free, I donated about 20 MYR because the grass needed to be mowed, and Penang's Jewish community no longer exists, now living elsewhere. I also went up to Penang Hill this morning, which was a mistake because it was cloudy and overcast, and you couldn't see much, and it took about three hours.
I also got screwed out of about 50 MYR by a cab driver. I told the guy specifically that I wanted to go see the Snake Temple before going to the airport (it was on the way) but he missed the turn and claimed that traffic would be too heavy, and that I would miss my flight. What he really wanted was to help out some of his buddies, since he could have only earned a maximum of about 50 MYR for the snake temple/airport run, whereas by taking me to the airport and forcing me to take another cab, he forced me to spend about 88 MYR total (40 MYR to the airport, 48 MYR roundtrip from the snake temple to the airport).
I knew I would regret it if I didn't make it to the snake temple, but the place didn't really live up to its hype, and wasn't worth the 48 MYR roundtrip cab ride. The snakes (pit vipers that the monks claim are pacified by the nature of the temple and therfore won't strike) aren't actually slithering around on the ground right next to you--instead, they are up in pedestals. Sure, they aren't behind a cage, but its not the experience I imagined it to be.
Anyway, because I'm doing this at an airport kiosk, this post will have to be curtailed, and you will have to find out about Banjarmasin another day.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Yogya
It's basically a must go if you are in Indonesia. Yes, it is somewhat touristy, but its touristy for a reason--there's a lot to do there, and, if it makes you feel any better, western tourists are easily outnumbered by the armies of Indonesian school children who are also on trips there.
Bente Vreedeburg--former dutch fort. Nice to look at, and is in a nice plaza with the Yogyakarta's President's Residence (SBY's home when he visits Yogya), and the Bank of Indonesia. All done in the white colonial style, so they blend in together, and creates a nice picture.
Jalan Malioboro-Yogya's main street, and where my hostel was located. Lots and lots of vendors there--my only issue was that sometimes you have to push through the crowds since in some cases the sidewalk is only one person wide.
Tarim Nasari--water palace--a must go--basically a private retreat for one of the Yogya sultans, with swimming pools and lounges built specifically for his harem. Go there now, because it is in the process of getting UNESCO certified, and the sultan wants to tear down and bulldoze the surrounding neighborhood, which gives it a unique ambiance, and landscape the place instead--which is a shame considering that according to the government guide, families have lived in these homes for over 100 years, and are being moved some 5+ kilometers away. These families, by the way, have traditionally worked for the sultan.
If you are interested in Batik, then go to the government arts center--not any other store. It's legit stuff. The problem is that batik isn't exactly molded to American tastes unless you are into sometimes psychedelic, technicolored scenes.
It will break your heart, but since you are in Asia, you do need to go to an animal market of some sort, so go to the Yogyakarta Songbird Market, where they traditionally sell songbirds and cages and food to Indonesians.
They don't only sell songbirds, though. They sell pigeons and prized roosters and chickens as well--the chicken equivalent to showdogs.
Once you get past the birds, you will find some interesting options for sale. Guinea Pigs are everywhere--crammed together in all sorts of cages, with little room to breathe. Same for the hamsters, mice, and rabbits, some of which are evidently so slow that they don't even put them in cages.
As I mentioned before, there were some truly heartbreaking scenes--puppies panting desperately for water (not getting any), with their chewed off tails and stacked in cages on top of each other. Geckos are crammed in cages like the guinea pigs, and seemingly every type of snake is available for purchase.
You see monitor lizards trying desperately to escape their cage, and you see bats clustered together upside down in cages. There was also a bullfrog who was supposed to have mice for dinner, but evidently wasn't hungry, since the mouse was alive and sitting on top of the bulldog.
There were big fuzzball chicks of what can only be assumed to be some big bird or bird of prey, since as chicks they were the size of some pigeons, all desperately screaming for their mother.
That's not all. The two worst instances by far involved two mammals. They had a monkey with a chain around its waste in a tiny cage about the size of two standard computer monitors, and the monkey was going crazy--literally running or climbing around in circles.
I had to refocus my eyes to make sure I wasn't hallucinating for the other: out in the hot sun, in its plastic cage, with no water, and looking deathly ill, was a river otter. A river otter, some of which are endangered species, and a species that spend their entire lives in water. I was very nearly tempted to buy the otter just to donate the animal to the zoo and take it out of its misery.
Once I got past the songbirds, the place made me want to vomit. What's even more disturbing is that this animal market would be considered to be relatively tame by asian standards, especially compared to some in China.
Other random note: on my train from Yogya to Surabaya, they played Shania Twain music videos for the last half an hour, along with an Indonesian group named Vieira, with a girl lead singer that can be best described as some kind of britney spears/averil lavigne/michelle branch hybrid. It actually wasn't all that bad, to be honest, but, then again, without an ipod of my own, I've been forced to adjust my music standards to liking anything that is actually playing.
Bente Vreedeburg--former dutch fort. Nice to look at, and is in a nice plaza with the Yogyakarta's President's Residence (SBY's home when he visits Yogya), and the Bank of Indonesia. All done in the white colonial style, so they blend in together, and creates a nice picture.
Jalan Malioboro-Yogya's main street, and where my hostel was located. Lots and lots of vendors there--my only issue was that sometimes you have to push through the crowds since in some cases the sidewalk is only one person wide.
Tarim Nasari--water palace--a must go--basically a private retreat for one of the Yogya sultans, with swimming pools and lounges built specifically for his harem. Go there now, because it is in the process of getting UNESCO certified, and the sultan wants to tear down and bulldoze the surrounding neighborhood, which gives it a unique ambiance, and landscape the place instead--which is a shame considering that according to the government guide, families have lived in these homes for over 100 years, and are being moved some 5+ kilometers away. These families, by the way, have traditionally worked for the sultan.
If you are interested in Batik, then go to the government arts center--not any other store. It's legit stuff. The problem is that batik isn't exactly molded to American tastes unless you are into sometimes psychedelic, technicolored scenes.
It will break your heart, but since you are in Asia, you do need to go to an animal market of some sort, so go to the Yogyakarta Songbird Market, where they traditionally sell songbirds and cages and food to Indonesians.
They don't only sell songbirds, though. They sell pigeons and prized roosters and chickens as well--the chicken equivalent to showdogs.
Once you get past the birds, you will find some interesting options for sale. Guinea Pigs are everywhere--crammed together in all sorts of cages, with little room to breathe. Same for the hamsters, mice, and rabbits, some of which are evidently so slow that they don't even put them in cages.
As I mentioned before, there were some truly heartbreaking scenes--puppies panting desperately for water (not getting any), with their chewed off tails and stacked in cages on top of each other. Geckos are crammed in cages like the guinea pigs, and seemingly every type of snake is available for purchase.
You see monitor lizards trying desperately to escape their cage, and you see bats clustered together upside down in cages. There was also a bullfrog who was supposed to have mice for dinner, but evidently wasn't hungry, since the mouse was alive and sitting on top of the bulldog.
There were big fuzzball chicks of what can only be assumed to be some big bird or bird of prey, since as chicks they were the size of some pigeons, all desperately screaming for their mother.
That's not all. The two worst instances by far involved two mammals. They had a monkey with a chain around its waste in a tiny cage about the size of two standard computer monitors, and the monkey was going crazy--literally running or climbing around in circles.
I had to refocus my eyes to make sure I wasn't hallucinating for the other: out in the hot sun, in its plastic cage, with no water, and looking deathly ill, was a river otter. A river otter, some of which are endangered species, and a species that spend their entire lives in water. I was very nearly tempted to buy the otter just to donate the animal to the zoo and take it out of its misery.
Once I got past the songbirds, the place made me want to vomit. What's even more disturbing is that this animal market would be considered to be relatively tame by asian standards, especially compared to some in China.
Other random note: on my train from Yogya to Surabaya, they played Shania Twain music videos for the last half an hour, along with an Indonesian group named Vieira, with a girl lead singer that can be best described as some kind of britney spears/averil lavigne/michelle branch hybrid. It actually wasn't all that bad, to be honest, but, then again, without an ipod of my own, I've been forced to adjust my music standards to liking anything that is actually playing.
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