Ben's Travel Stories

God will provide for Man; Man will provide for Woman

2012-01-28T02:12:00.001+08:00

November 2011
Location: Boracay, Philippines

The title was derived from 2 seperate incidents which I experienced whilst diving in Boracay.

My Diving Instructor
She had been working in the banking industry for a good 5 years at least, and having gotten sick of corporate culture, quit her job to become a professional beach babe - teaching diving, playing frisbee and keeping fit on the beautiful beach of Boracay.

I got to know her better over the diving course and a couple of meals and beers. She enjoyed the carefree life on the beach, but also admitted to the significant lifestyle adjustments required to sustain a livelihood in Boracay as a dive instructor. Ultimately, she wished to have a place of her own to call home (she was currently renting a simple room with minimal amenities).

Attending mass in Boracay
Being on the island for a week, I fulfilled my Catholic obligations and went for english mass with a few of the folks at the diveshop. This is what I remember of the sermon that evening:
1. God has given all of us talents.
2. Manny Pacqiao had used his God-given talents to beat Juan Marquez again that morning.
3. God will provide Man, as long as he uses his talents well.

Piecing it together
1. God will provide for Man's needs
2. Intelligent and undemanding women will still have needs that she will not be able to fulfill on her own.
3. Hence, God provides for Man, and Man will provide for Woman.

:)

Of Lost Opportunities

2011-11-20T23:55:00.001+08:00

I was in Boracay, Philippines for a week in November for a well deserved vacation prior to starting my new job, as well as to get my Open Water Diving License under the tutorship of a friend from university, and now a diving instructor based in Boracay - Anqi.

We had walked by the Spiderhouse Resort at Diniwid beach, and posed the following question: What is your greatest memory of this trip so far?

Straightforward question, but one which I was having difficulty answering. Was it:

1) The diving with barracudas in Maniguin island?

2) The wild partying with Bjorn, Geir, Dan and Rachel throughout the night?

3) The tasty food at the Smoke Resto?

4) Catching up with Anqi over walks and beers?

I was not able to answer - and I attribute it to an incident that happened five minutes before.

We had chanced upon the bar at the Spiderhouse Resort - a simple bar almost entirely constructed of cane and bamboo, and as I walked in, my attention was captured by a most attractive woman, laying on the daybed in a bikini (see pic above). She looked local - tanned and slim built, but her eyes captivated me, as they were directed at me, together with a most welcoming smile. Thinking that she was an employee of the bar or a tourist's "companion", I did not return the warm welcome and walked on.

Of all the above amazing moments that I'd experienced over the last couple of days, each had been captured at some point by someone's camera, which I would be able to relive each time I look at them. But the thought of what could have been had I responded to her remains what it is - a thought. The moment had passed, the picture opportunity missed.

The next evening, we went back to the Spiderhouse bar, where I asked the hotel manager about this lady. Apparently she was a Canadian-Singaporean tourist who had stayed for two nights, and had checked out earlier in the day.

Well, as my Spanish friend Laura reminds me - Keep Walking.

My Czech Travelbook is completed!

2011-10-30T00:20:00.000+08:00

Just like how it took ages for the completion of my Turkey travelbook, it took an even longer time to get this project completed. I'm happy with the result (apart from one or two typos), and I hope you enjoy taking a look at it!

Čau Čechy by bentse

Make Your Own Book

I should be a Maxim photographer!

2011-08-22T00:55:00.002+08:00

I was impressed with the way the pictures of my 2 Spanish friends turned out.

Goes to show that with a nice location, 2 beautiful women in small pieces of cloth, and some spontaneity generally get you good photographs!

Muchas gracias to these wonderful ladies for patronising me and giving me a first "fashion shoot:".

Pix have been removed, but can be found on my social networking site.

Paradise in Bali?

2011-07-29T11:47:00.007+08:00

Amed's beach, with Mt Agung in the background.

July 2011
I went to the relatively quiet beach town of Amed, to the north east of Bali, to catch up with my two friends I met whilst on holiday. We had kept in touch via facebook since that trip, and I promised to pay them a visit, since I had never been there before. They had told me how amazing this island was, about how it was to be their paradise, and I was keen to find out if this was to be my paradise as well.

I spent three quick days in Amed, of which approximately 7hrs (to and fro) were spent travelling from the airport at Denpasar to this quiet beachtown.

Without a doubt, Amed is a beautiful place, especially in the off season which I was experiencing then. Amed had, in no particular order of preference:
A long stretch of black sand beach
Beautiful corals not more than 50m from the shore (which I did not get to see due to my phobia of stepping on poisonous rocks/corals/fish in the low tide)
Cheap good food
Amazing sunsets and sunrises
Calm waters for swimming/snorkelling
Few tourist traps
Friendly locals (about 500 or so in this village)
Clear skies for seeing stars at night
Thousands of chickens used for cock-fighting (I hated them, but when was the last time you heard a cock crow?).

The town is not yet overrun with tourism, but is expected to be in the next few years, as fancy villas continue to be built along the coastline.

It was not difficult to see why my 2 friends had chosen to spend 2 months in this town.

Pura Lempuyang

Padi fields aplenty in Bali

Bali and Amed from a different perspective

Speaking with my friend and reading some of the Singaporean newspapers, I came to know about the Beach Boys of Bali. These men were said to hang around the beaches of Bali to prey on foreign women, with the hope of trying to find a better life with them away from the island.

I had the opportunity to observe them "in action" during the 2 evenings at Amed, and I could see why it was to be paradise - especially for women. There was an American lady of about 50 years old, and there were 7 local men sitting with her, chatting, listening, drinking and dancing with her, giving her the attention and praise to make her feel like a goddess. It reminded me of the stag night parties I attend with my male friends, with roles reversed. The same situation did not apply to men, as Balinese women were kept at home due to cultural/religious reasons. From my discussions with a Beach Boy and the chicas, Amed (and possibly Bali) was pretty much a chavunistic society. The men are not used to experiencing women with strong opinions.

My friend spoke of an incident one evening when her friends did not acknowledge her presence at the bar as they were entertaining a female tourist. It was later on when one of the guys apologised to her for his rude behaviour, as he was simply "working".

She accepts these men for who they are and understands their search of a better life, though at times she also complains about how the men on the island are generally lazy and abusive, leaving the cooking and housework to the women, and spending all their time getting high on arak (the local spirit, best drunk with Coke) or marijuana, and gambling on cockfighting. Her stories of Bali were truely entertaining.
She had lived in Bali for 6 months before, and she spoke basic Behasa to get by. She is living in Bali for 2 months or so. I do admire the way they have chosen to live freely and happily, and I am eagerly awaiting the publishing of her book of Balinese adventures.

Amed's amazing sunset

The Ride of My Life

2011-05-09T22:51:00.000+08:00

No, it's not in a car, a cruise, a rollercoaster, an airplane, nor a helicopter...

At of 9 May 2011, age 32, it's THE LORRY RIDE UP MOUNT KYAIKTIYO!

Top of a lorry
10-12 wooden benches secured by screws to the side of the lorry
5 to 6 persons per bench
Around 60kmh, up AND down hill along a winding, bumpy road
No seatbelts
I'm seated right at the back, at the corner

Not sure if the picture adequately describes the situation well enough, but I actually kept my camera after 5 minutes, not wanting to risk dropping or knocking it against the lorry, as I actually needed both hands to hold on to the lorry for dear life!

A 45 minute uphill ride on a 1-lane road/dirt track, only for another 45 minute uphill climb up slopes and stairs, just to see this:

The Golden Rock on Mt Kyaiktiyo, the 3rd most important Buddhist pilgrimage site in Myanmar.

I'll update this post upon completion of any of the following, if ever:

whitewater rafting
skydiving
paragliding
bungee jumping
BASE jumping

Myanmar experiences

2011-05-09T17:21:00.011+08:00

There are not many countries which require Singaporeans to obtain a visa prior to arrival. Myanmar is one of them. As such, I made it a point to get my feet on Myanmar soil and cross off another "country less travelled".

There has been lots of negative publicity about Myanmar in recent years, mainly due to the military junta that governs the country. Stories of human rights oppression are innumerable, which I still have not bothered to read up on. What I did do, however, was to try to adhere to the Lonely Planet's advice of supporting private individuals and establishments where/whenever I could.

Spies in Myanmar?
There are stories in the LP about spies lurking all over the country, and how people seem to be following your movements. I never felt that way, though on at least 3 occassions locals in Yangon would come up to me for a chat when I was walking around or having a cup of sugar cane. They asked the standard questions of where I came from, what I was doing in Myanmar, where I stayed, and my plans in the country. At least 2 of them mentioned that they had visited Singapore and shared with me their experiences of my home country - very nice, clean efficient etc. They all appeared sincere folks, as not once did they ask me to buy something or take a look at their wares (1 did mention he had a shop down the street but walked off not expecting me to follow him). I did ask them why they returned to Myanmar, and the response I got was that they wanted to be at home, and they were happy living in Myanmar.

One thing I was careful about though, was never to ask what they thought of their government. I did manage to see, on the Yangon Circular trainride, barb-wired walls surrounding a compound longer than the train. I have been also told that there are thousands of citizens locked up in local prisons (for whatever violations of government regulations).

Ottma the monk
I was catching the sunset at the Shwedagon Paya, snapping pictures and minding my own business, when Ottma (spelling could be wrong), a monk, approached me for a chat. The usual questions about my background followed.

Ottma was about 28 years old, and a monk for most of his life, and happy to be so. He spoke decent English, telling me that he had come to Yangon to study English for a couple of months at a local school. He also expressed an interest in photography, showing me places to take pictures of the immense pagoda, as well as specific locations where I could see the different colors of the 76 carat (!!) diamond at the top of the pagoda.
I had taken a good hour of his time talking about our lives and taking pictures, and I was getting apprehensive about what he really wanted from me. Based on my travel and life experiences, there have been few instances whereby people came up to you without wanting anything in return. A few thoughts ran through my head:

Is he really a monk, or a spy/fraudster in disguise (there have been instances of fake monks begging for alms in Singapore and Hong Kong)?
Should I offer him a tip/donation? How much would be appropriate?
How should I tell him I want to leave the pagoda and head downtown for dinner? Will he follow me?

Eventually, he walked me to a taxi waiting area, and out of gratitude, I offered him a measly MMK 100 bill for his time. He glared at me, asked me,"What is this for?", and walked off, leaving me puzzled, and slightly embarrassed.

Did I offend him?
Was the amount too small?
Should I have offered more?

Well, I really won't know the truth, but I think I'll keep my money to myself till people ask me for it next time.

The Shwedagon Paya, Yangon

Laura and Nuria
I'm updating this post in August 2011, as I have to add these 2 Spanish ladies as a significant part of my Myanmar adventure. I had met them on the bus from Yangon to Bagan, and we developed a deep friendshop over the next 48hrs, and I had the pleasure of catching up with them again in July 2011 in Amed, Bali, where they were living for a couple of months. Look up my posts on Amed, Bali for more info about them!

With Laura (L) and Nuria (R)

"Linking" stories

2011-03-24T23:27:00.017+08:00

The Stockholm club (May 2008)
I was with Matthew, Sarah and Damien, backpackers from the hostel, and we went to a popular rock bar near the Old Town. The blond bartender was serving his fellow blonds ahead of the Asian (me) and French (Sarah), but this was just the tip of the iceberg, when things just got worse over the next half hour.

After getting our beers, we were then told that drinks were not allowed in the queue (to enter the club), and that there was no point queueing as the club was crowded and was closing shortly.

Instead of walking around the railings to exit the queue, Damien climbed over a railing. The bouncer did not take the rattling railings well, and told Damien to leave the premises. There was no negotiation, and it was very disappointing to have one of our group forcefully thrown out. That incident left Sarah, Matthew and myself with a beer, no club entry and 1 friend less, and effectively killed off the evening.

The club was named Debaser.

Damien, myself, Matthew and Sarah, before Debaser

Salvador Dali (July 2008)I was first introduced to the surrealistic work of Dali during my trip to Spain in Summer 2008. I had read about his work and eccentricities in my travel guidebook, and saw a couple of his works in a Madrid museum which I found highly intriguing. Since then, I was fortunate to visit one of his exhibitions in Berlin, where I caught his shortfilm Un chien Andalou.

He is arguably my favourite artist.

Illumined Pleasures by Salvador Dali. Pic taken from the New York Museum of Modern Art

Debaser by The Pixies (August 2008)
Debaser, to me, is a catchy (and rather meaningless) punk rock track by The Pixies, an American Alt-rock band, from the 1989 album Doolittle.

Amusingly, the lyrics are based on a short film by Luis Bunuel and Salvador Dali titled Un chien Andalou, most popularly known for a scene showing the slicing up of an eyeball. Weird. Read up about the song and film here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Debaser .

Raiza - Piecing the pieces together
Raiza befriended me through couchsurfing. We had planned to meet during the San Fermin festival in Pamplona, but our schedules did not coincide.

We kept in touch and did manage to catch up a couple of months later in Mallorca where she was to be based for work.

Whilst sharing travel stories, I recounted the story of the Debaser club to Raiza, and she enlightened me with the music of the Pixies and their track Debaser. It took a Spanish-American to link the Stockholm club, an American alt-rock band and a Spanish painter through 1 song!

Somehow I do find it amazing how these significant and yet diverse experiences - racial, aural and visual have been able to be linked together so closely by a song, and how I have taken another step towards cultural enlightenment.

Getting a visa in Prague

2011-02-13T14:39:00.009+08:00

If ever I think of emigrating, this story makes me think otherwise.

It dates back to my post secondment travels in June 2009, when I was travelling with the Schengen work visa stuck to my passport, which was valid till 31 May 2009. I had planned to see the Yeah Yeah Yeahs in concert on 1 June in Prague, and hence booked my return ticket to Singapore for 2 June.

After what happened in London (where my work visa expired and I was not allowed back to Norway till my work permit was extended for a month), I did not want any form of trouble with immigration on my final flight back home, especially since my firm was not going to compensate me for any costs/penalties incurred. I decided I was going to the Singapore Embassy in Prague to get any potential issues sorted out before I flew back, especially since I had 5 days or so in Prague.

Visa Mission Day 1
Getting to the Singapore embassy was simple, and meeting the ambassador's secretary was pleasant and straightforward. I was instructed to go to the immigration department located at Opletalova 27 and there I should have my visa renewed/extended with minimal fuss. I thanked her and went on my way.

Since I had some time in the afternoon, I thought I would try checking out the immigration building by tram. Based on the instructions from the internet sites, I boarded the tram, and alighted at a stop which appeared to be close to the immigratoin centre (from the map). Somehow I ended walking a good HOUR or so in the suburbs, and I realised I had to get back to central Prague to meet a couchsurfer for beers. Wasted time, if I did not consider the not so scenic tram ride a Czech experience in itself.

Visa Mission Day 2
Getting the directions right this time, I left Tereza's (my CS host) office with a good hour to reach the Immigration Centre (they closed at 12, according to the website). I was at the tram station and wanted to buy a tram ticket from the nearby newspaper stand, but they were closed for lunch, so I took a chance and boarded the tram, since technically the office was to close in an hour, and Tereza told me she had not been caught by a tram inspector for more than a year (she had been travelling free in Prague for most of the year). Horror of horrors, and the inspector boarded the tram, and I was deservedly fined a good EUR40 equivalent... At least I'd get my visa problems solved today... or so I thought... the Immigration Centre was closed for the day! Best part is, they had been closed the entire day, and the website was outdated! Wasted day, with additional cost for a fine!

Visa Mission Day 3 (a couple of days later)
I finally got to the Immigration Centre, and this time made it to the Immigration counter. They did not speak English, and the counter staff did not even put in an effort to help. Basically they told me in Czech that they do not speak English. After an hour or so, I realised I was in the WRONG part of the building...
I was pissed. I returned to the Singapore embassy, and raised my voice this time at the ambassador's secretary, tell her to make some calls, and to get all the steps to get my visa extended. I even told her to type out a letter in Czech so that the monolingual locals could understand what I needed. She was apologetic and did as told.

On my second trip for the day, I made it to the Police Branch, where I was told to take passport photos for the visa. Not too bad, apart from going down 6 floors to have them taken and going up again. At least this time things were moving. After submitting the passport photos, I was made to wait in a rooom with a few other non-locals. 2 were of Middle Eastern descent, the other was Asian. I could hear banging of walls on the other side of the wall. Clearly I was not the only unhappy person in the building. After 45 minutes of waiting, I poked my head out to their office to check on them. I was shouted at to stay in the room. Knowing that arguing was not going to get me anywhere, I did as told. My patience paid off and at the end of 2 hours, I had an extra sticker on my passport which allowed me to stay in Prague till 2 June 2009....

Having gotten what I needed, and feeling bad about what I did to the Embassy lady, I apologised to her by way of flowers on my journey back to Prague central.

Lesson learnt:
I sure as hell know that I would not want to be part of the Czech social system!

My Turkey travelbook is completed!

2010-12-23T10:37:00.003+08:00

I have not had much time to travel due to work commitments, and since i got hooked onto photography, I thought it would be good to start on a second travelbook (a book of my travels!), finally... after about 4 months of compiling, editing and procrastination, my Turkey travelbook is completed, and even up for sale!

The link to its preview is available here:

Türkiye by bentse | Make Your Own Book

Enjoy!

Or better yet, buy a copy!

ben

Daytrip to Kukup - Officially tried hitchhiking!

2010-09-11T07:50:00.000+08:00

It was 10 September 2010. I'd made a spontaneous trip to Kukup, a small fishing village in the state of Johor in Malaysia with Shoohong to have a look at rural living and to try some seafood.

Kukup is a popular day trip for Singaporeans via tourist agents. It is popolar for its chalets and seafood, built on stilts over marshlands.

I took the "hard" way of getting there by myself, taking the MRT from town to Kranji (35min), getting a bus through to Johor Bahru (45min, including customs clearance), followed by switching a bus at Larkin bus station to Pontian (1hr), and finally a cab from Pontian to Kukup (30min).

It's in these parts of the world, where you really have to take things slow and easy, especially when it was a public holiday (Hari Raya Puasa). People don't give clear directions, and inform you that the bus service is unpredictable and does not follow its schedule. The taxi we took from Pontian to Kukup was a piece of machinery from the 80s... it was really nice to feel as though we stepped back in time - faux leather seats, spoilt speedometers, no air con, gear stick from the steering wheel, paper calendar with the classic mini fan sticking out of the dashboard!

Arriving in Kukup, we found out everything we needed to know in an hour, walking along the main street, and then hopping onto a fish farm tour (for MYR 5):
- Kukup is a small fish farming village along the coast of Johor, and is excellent for fish farming because of a small island which cuts out large waves
- around 75 fish farms around Kukup, and considered the 2nd largest fish farming area in the world (so the kid at the kelong said)
- the best seafood is located near the terminal (Causeway (Chang Di) and another which I cannot remember the name)
- many guest chalets available for rent - things to do include karaoke, fishing, barbecue, letting off fireworks, shopping at the few local produce stalls and eating.

We ended the evening with a seafood dinner by the sea. Unfortunately it was cloudy and no good sunset was available.

The next adventure actually began after dinner. The bus schedule in Pontian stated that the last bus from Pontian to Larkin was at 9pm. However, it was 8pm and and there were no cabs in sight to get ourselves back to Pontian. We hit the bus station to find it closed, and a shopkeeper had told us that we had missed the last bus for the day (at 730pm), and most tourists would spend the night in the town.

We were looking out for cabs along the street to bring us back to Johor Bahru (hefty fee included) but instead found a bus which just arrived at the bus terminus, and it was to our great fotune that it was there to pick up 1 passenger before heading back to Singapore. We asked if we could join the ride for a fee, but the driver just told us that the bus was not full anyway, and told us to hop on. Lucky break of the day!

Not a big deal the way it turned out, but I think this does qualify as hitchiking... worthy of being in the list of travel stories.

Travel summary (including waiting time):

Time taken to get to Kukup - 3.5hrs

Time spent at Kukup - 2.5hrs

Time taken to return to Singapore - 2.5hrs

Taking the bus in Singapore

2010-05-15T01:03:00.000+08:00

This blog has been really quiet, so I thought I'd add a short story.
It's about a bus ride I took in my home country actually, but since I was moving from one place to another, I'll consider this a travel story. Here it goes:

Back home in Singapore, I've been working ridiculously long hours, averaging a good 12-16hrs in the office each day. It was a day where I had slept just 2 hours the night before, and had gotten on the 0615hrs bus to reach office by 0700hrs.

I was really tired and I just took the first available seat on the first level of the double decker bus. 10 seconds after I sat down, I felt the most foul smell invade my nostrils... I must say this is unusual as I have a perpetually blocked nose and my sense of smell is not the most sensitive.

I looked at the other passengers in the bus (not many, about 5 or so... it was early), and they seemed to be behaing normally. The first thought that came to my mind was whether I had stepped on some dogpoo on the way to the bus stop, and wondering if the other passengers were experiencing the stench... I looked around the bus this time and to my amusement, there was this f*#ing ginormous pile of shit on the floor 3m from where I was seated, at the standing area!!!

I went straight up the stairs to the second deck, and realised I was now wide awake despite my fatigue from lack of sleep.

The following thoughts then flashed across my mind:

1. How does it get SO BIG (animals are not allowed on buses in Singapore)?

2. How did it get there so early in the morning?

Early morning mystery to start the day... a lot better than thinking about the stresses of work when I alight from this ride.

Visits from around the world..

2010-01-07T22:12:00.002+08:00

It's been a while since I've updated the blog, and it's mainly because of my return to Singapore, which has greatly reduced my opportunities for travel, due to the limited funding and more significantly a more hectic worklife.

I have returned to Singapore since 3 July 2009, and I have been thinking about the number of people that I have been acquiainted with in my time in Europe, and how they have been kind enough to think of me and look me up as they passed through Singaporean shores on their way around South East Asia and the Pacific.

The list of people as follows, in no chronological order:
1. Jordi and Carla from the Netherlands (met on the journey to the Sahara)
2. Kirsti and Lars from Oslo, Norway
3. Linda from Helsinki, Finland
4. Asad from London (met in a Marakkesh hostel)
5. Romy from Zurich, Switzerland
6. Roar from Oslo, Norway
7. Shuyi, the Singaporean from Frankfurt (met in the same Marakkesh hostel as Asad)
8. Serap, from Istanbul, Turkey
9. Jin, from Daegu, Korea (met in Granada, Spain in Summer'08)
10. Viestarts, from Oslo, Norway (colleague from KPMG Oslo)
11. Martin and Gunilla, from Oslo, Norway (colleague from KPMG Oslo)

It's only been xx months, and I know the list grows longer...

NICE!

2009-08-12T21:54:00.000+08:00

Extra post!

This was something I contributed to a local fish forum (Petfrd.com):

___________

Hi all

as requested by Cloud79, i thought i'd post some pics taken (throughout Europe) during my 1.5 years working in Norway.

I did read a thread in another forum before, about how some of us fish forummers had gotten so deep into our hobby we would always look into a body of water (puddle, canal, lake, pond etc) for fishes, and realised i had "developed" into one of those guys... Even as my passion for the hobby died down a couple of years ago, subconsciously i still did this peering into lakes and canals, and even bothered to snap a few pictures of the life present.

As such, instead of boring you guys with pics of great landscapes, i scoured my collection of pictures and found those "fish-related" ones. Unfortunately not all of them belong to live fish, I thought it'd be nice to show how people in different parts of the world love their fishes.

enjoy!

Trout eye in aquarium around Hardanger, Norway

Dried fish head, Nusford, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Fish drying for export, Lofoten Islands, Norway

Christmas cod and sei, caught in Tofte, Norway

Fish in lake, around 7deg Celsius, Otta, Norway

Fish found in Polarium, an arctic aquarium, Tromso, Norway

Fish found in Polarium, an arctic aquarium, Tromso, Norway

Fish in a stream close to Rheinfall, Switzerland

Fish market in Fethiye, Turkey.
Just buy your fish, and have it grilled at a next-door restaurant.nice!

Fishes feeding on bread in Bohinj, Slovenia

Pile of fishes found along the coastal town of Nida, Lithuania

Finally, how the Dutch love it... herring, Schiphol airport, Netherlands

cheers!

ben

Have fate will meet...

2009-08-10T20:37:00.001+08:00

Well, if one is not amazed at how I met Jamie (see earlier post about meeting people) in both Granada and Toledo (well, both are still Spanish cities) randomly, hopefully this post impresses.

I met an Australian backpacker in Selcuk, Turkey on 11 May 2009 on a bus ride. We spoke a couple of hours and she alighted at some place I don't remember.

Fast forward 48 days later, 1590km away, and I meet this same lady in my hostel (Hostel99, see previous post) in Cesky Krumlov, Czech Republic!

And no, I did not know her travel schedule, we did not keep in touch subsequent to Selcuk... it was just one of those "hey, I've seen you somewhere before" moments.

Totally random, totally cool!

The Kama Sutra room

2009-08-10T19:15:00.001+08:00

Location: Hostel99, Cesky Krumlov, Czech Republic
Date: 27-28 June 2009

Hostel99 is a really cool hostel built out of an old Czech house, with great atmosphere, free wi-fi, a bar and bakery, rooms with names instead of numbers, and a large dvd collection to boot. But what really made my stay memorable was their Kama Sutra room.

So here's the story:

I was asking the receptionist where to get a towel, and he blabbered that the towels were in a cabinet around the corner. I was not really paying attention to the receptionist's specific directions, and entered the first room around the corner, thinking the cabinet would be inside. There was no cabinet in sight, but what I did see was a naked couple on the bed, without sheets, copulating....

My natural response - "Oh F#*k, Sorry!" and shut the door. I looked up at the door, taking note of the room name - Kama Sutra.

The towel cabinet turned out to be just outside the room.

Pub by the flooded river

I actually did clarify that the Kama Sutra room was a regular double room available for rent, and not a communal room for copulation.

Lesson learnt: Unless you're fine with strangers walking in, lock the door.

Afterthought: Just thought of the movie "Hostel". Maybe I was supposed to stay in the room, and get invited for some decadence... oh well...

How I lost my camera

2009-08-06T23:31:00.001+08:00

I was at an internet cafe in Sarajevo, Bosnia on 20 June'09, to use up my last 15 minutes of credit. I had been there earlier in the morning and used up my first 45 minutes of internet time.

Where I lost my camera

The guy at the cafe told me the internet was not working due to the rain. This was not surprising, as my host had also told me the same thing the night before. I was just about to leave when I heard the sound of Winning Eleven being played on the PlayStation 3 upstairs, so I thought I'd join the people upstairs for a game whilst waiting for the internet to come up again, since I had done my sightseeing already, and I was also hoping to see how good Bosnian kids were at the game.
On the second level of the internet cafe were 3 kids playing. They were not really kids actually, more like 16-18 years old, dressed like any teenager would. They charged me EUR1 to play a game with them, to which I thought whatever.. and just joined in the fun.

War roses - mortar scars commemorating the mortar shell victims

I placed my camera (in its bag) and bag on the same counter as the TV. It was 2m away from me, 45 deg to my left and within view. Like this:

As the game went on, 1 kid came from the left and asked me questions about where I was staying etc, distracting me from the game, and focus from my camera, whilethe 3rd kid SWAPPED my camera for an old antique soviet camera AND a rock.

After the game (which I lost to a dubious penalty), I asked for a rematch which the kids agreed to, for free. But within 2 minutes of the rematch, they suddenly said they had to rush off and ran down the stairs.After another 2 min I thought it was strange to leave their cigarettes behind, so i did a check on my camera bag, and noted the swap had been done.

The kids had obviously gone by then.

SUCKY...

My host family, who did everything they could to console me

What I lost:

damn decent camera
Trust in foreign children

Lessons learnt:

Locals always blame the gypsies
Bad locals exist (I believe the kids were not gypsies)
It is wise to back up your photos every couple of days
When on holiday, take life easy. I felt much better the following day and carried on my travels
You cannot outwit/understand organised crime alone
The soviet camera is not worth more than SGD30

Berlin - There's just NO alternative!

2009-08-02T23:21:00.000+08:00

I had heard so much about the alternative culture (and the kebabs) in Berlin, and hence I gave myself 5 days, the longest time I set aside for one city, to explore and immerse within. It was totally worth it! I made good use of my time there, seeing the famous/notorious tourist spots, joining a couple of "alternative" walking tours, staying at a hostel, couchsurfing and checking out museums, but the most memorable activity I took part in was meeting a bunch of couchsurfers to catch the sunrise at Teufelsberg.

Teufelsberg

Info extracted from wikipedia

The Teufelsberg (German for Devil's Mountain) is a hill in Berlin, Germany, in former West Berlin. It rises about 80 meters above the surrounding Brandenburg plain.It is an artificial hill with a curious history: it was built by the Allies after the Second World War from the rubble of Berlin during the following twenty years as the city was rebuilt. One estimate for the amount of rubble is about 12 million cubic meters, or about 400,000 buildings. It is higher than the highest natural hill (the Kreuzberg) in the Berlin area.The curiousness begins with what is buried underneath the hill: a Nazi military-technical college designed by Albert Speer. The Allies tried using explosives to demolish the school, but it was so sturdy that covering it with debris turned out to be easier.

The US National Security Agency (NSA) built one of its largest listening stations on top of the hill, rumoured to be part of the global ECHELON intelligence gathering network. The station continued to operate until the fall of East Germany and the Berlin Wall, but after that the station was closed and the equipment removed. The buildings and radar domes still remain in place.

Sunrise walk

Back to the couchsurfing gathering. I had been travelling alone in Berlin for 3 days, and came upon a gathering initiated by Ingre, an Estonian studying in Berlin. I had read about the place, and thought it would be cool to meet at 1am and do a short hike up to Teufelsberg with some CSers to catch the sunrise at 443hrs that morning.

I vaguely remember how I met Ingre… something along the lines of asking almost every blond at the station at 1am if she was called Ingre. But we managed to meet just as the train arrived , and I got to know Florian as well, another CS member, on the train ride. By the time the train reached the intended stop, there were 5 of us. By the next train, the group grew to 14 strong, of which 7 were drunk.

Couchsurfers - in all shapes, sizes, characters

It was another slight uphill walk to Teufelsberg, including a trail through some forest, and climbing through a hole in the fence. Apparently it was illegal to trespass. Apparently in Berlin, rules are broken more often than they are adhered to.

We arrived at Teufelsberg with time to spare before the sunrise, and explored the abandoned radar station.

Unfortunately, the weather was cloudy and there was not much of a sunrise to appreciate, but we still had a great time taking pictures from the windy station, and finally settling for some breakfast .

I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

breakfast

Getting photography assistance

2009-08-02T14:27:00.000+08:00

I'm not a cam-whore, but on occassion I do like my face in the picture.

Unfortunately, ever since I got my DSLR, my expectations of my pictures have increased significantly, in proportion to the quality of pictures produced.

This experience happened in Essouira, Morocco.

I'll let the pictures speak for themselves:

The problem

I am unable to take a decent self-portrait with my DSLR due to its bulk and weight. This is what I could manage, which does not capture the background which I wanted.

The Solution

Due to my limitations, I engaged the help of a local who was there with his girlfriend, admiring the amazing view of the sea. I described how I wanted to frame the picture in as simple english as possible. I even took a picture of him to set as an example:

My friendly assistant

The Frustration

However, after 3 attempts, the best he could muster was the below picture, which had the walls which I had hoped could be hidden. I thanked him for his efforts, got his email address, and promised to send him the picture I had taken for him (which I did send subsequently).

not quite what I wanted

The Perseverence and the End Result

And in my stubbornness, I placed my faith in another photographer, this time a fellow tourist, possibly from the US. After a brief description and 2 attempts, I got what I wished for:

Satisfaction at last!

G&* damn DSLRs!!! They take away the joys of photography at times!

Sharing a hotel room with a stranger

2009-08-01T19:14:00.000+08:00

Trust - its easier earned for some people, like the person I entrusted my luggage with in Istanbul, and I had my experience of how it just might be easy to trust me.

It all started in Marakkesh, in the Riad Amazigh, north Africa's best-rated hostel (its really nice!). I had just checked in, and I caught sight of an asian girl walking by the reception. And my Singapore-sense just took effect - we made eye-contact, and we just knew that we were Singaporeans!

We got acquianted over a few drinks at the Cafe Arabes. She was Shuyi, a Singaporean based in Frankfurt, Germany, and she was travelling with her friend Tanja.

The next morning, we met at the breakfast table at the hostel. We were joined by a couple of English girls and a Jamaican.

Fast forward to lunchtime, and its Shuyi, Tanja, me and Jamaican girl (Sheree by name) eating and talking about our travels in Morocco.

Drinks at Cafe Arabes with Shuyi and Tanja

Both Sheree and I talked about visiting Essouira, and then out of nowhere, Shuyi blurted out," Stay at the Riad Jemalhi Mogador! Its only MAD 250 (EUR 25) a night for a double room! Since you 2 are travelling alone, why not share a room?" And then the words of reassurance - "He's Singaporean, he won't do anything to you!"

Sheree and I were both cool with that idea, and we did not talk much about it after. I noted down the name of the hotel, and left shortly for my Sahara adventure (see earlier posts).

___________________________

I'm Singaporean and I don't bite...

I remember sending Sheree an email from the Sahara informing her of my estimated arrival time at Essouira and hoped to meet her at the hotel. I was not having my expectations high, after all the unexpected events that had happened to me in Morocco thus far.

Fast forward 3 days later, and I found my way to the Riad Jemalhi Mogador in Essouira. The receptionist told me that it was fully booked, and I was thinking to myself "shit happened ..again.." when Sheree popped out of nowhere and gave me a welcome hug! I had a long ride from the desert, and it was just the pleasant surprise I needed.

And there - sharing a room with someone you met over a lunch for 2 nights.

During our stay in Essouira, I did tell Sheree that I did not expect to meet her there, and was curious as to why she would be willing to share the hotel room with me. Its not as though we could not afford to stay on our own.

Her response was that I gave her a "good vibe"...

I'm still wondering if that was meant to be a compliment....

Sheree having fun at Taros bar

Sebastian, cool french kite-surfing dude we met at the hotel, chilling at Taros Bar

Taxi adventure in the Sahara

2009-07-30T00:55:00.000+08:00

I was on my second trip to Morocco, and I had learnt not to plan too much when in this "beautifully frustrating" land.

I had finally made my way to the Sahara this second attempt, and after my night under the stars, I made a spontaneous decision to spend another night amongst the sand dunes (after all, it was only EUR 5 a night for a relatively comfortable hotel).
It was meant to be a relaxing day, with sandboarding the only thing on my agenda. So there I was, noon in the Sahara, at Chez Ahmed cafe, having a berber omelette for lunch, with Ahmed and his Japanese friend (interesting lady, who moved to Morocco to improve her French. She taught social anthropology, if I remember correctly), and horror of horrors, I realised I was down to my last MAD 50 (about EUR 5).MAD 50 would only have covered my accommodation for the night, and I still had dinner to pay for, as well as the taxi fare back to Rissani (after which I would catch a bus back to Marrakesh).

I did not get stressed this (second) trip. I knew a screw-up would happen at some point... I just did’nt expect it to be my own! Ahmed offered me a berber omelette for dinner free of charge, and I could negotiate to have my taxi fare paid upon alighting at Rissani, where I could draw cash from the ATM.It sounded reasonable, but I could not bear to accept Ahmed’s hospitality. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the feeling of losing my “tourist spending power”, or the embarrassment that came with accepting a free meal from the restaurant owner that survived on tourists like me. And maybe I just did not want to take the easy way out of a screw-up.

I made the decision of using the last MAD 50 to share a cab back to Rissani, where I would draw cash and live like a king again, and share another cab back to the desert, where I would catch the sunset, and pay for my last berber omelette at Ahmed’s.

The adventure begins....
I left Chez Ahmed’s at around 1500hrs in the afternoon, and waited around 45 minutes for the first taxi to ride in from Rissani. Rissani is basically the largest town in the east end of Morocco and has the best links to the rest of the country. I haggled with the driver and managed to get a seat in the cab for MAD 25. The ride to Rissani took around 45 minutes, including a stop by policemen, who were “bribed” with bottles of mineral water.

Within 5 minutes of arrival in Rissani, I got my cash. Within half an hour of arrival in Rissani, I received:

Ridiculously overpriced offer for a shared cab to Marakkesh
The tour guide that sold me my desert tour package demanding me for tips , before he offered any advice on returning to Marakkesh
Tour guide’s fat brother asking me to visit his father’s shop to purchase some souvenirs, boasting about his 5 girlfriends whilst walking there
Cold farewell from the father after I insisted that I was not doing any shopping whilst on this trip

After 45 minutes of “adventure”, I finally found my shared taxi (the same driver that took me to from the desert). There were 4 of us including the driver. 500 metres into our journey, our driver got nervy, and told all the passengers to alight, and he drove off in a haste. According to one of the passengers, one of his neighbours from Merzouga, the driver had no taxi license, and this had infuriated the other taxi drivers as he was stealing their business!

The plan now, according to this fellow passenger, was to keep walking along the road, till he got out of his situation, and he would drive by, pick us up and resume the journey. And so we walked, for another 15 minutes, and we realised we had come to the edge of the town, to which it was just one long desert road for another 40km. We knew it was pointless to keep walking, so we sat by the road and waited for this driver. And we waited. And waited. For a good 1.5hrs.
I still remember thinking to myself, this could only happen in Morocco, and that it was moments like these that I would remember forever and tell my friends and grandkids about. Cars went by, motorcycles zipped past, old men on donkeys rode by, cheers rang, as Barcelona beat Chelsea in the European Cup finals. The sun set. And still there was no kid in a taxi. I killed off time by staring at the various people going by, and chatting with that one passenger that spoke good english.

Eventually, after 1.5hrs of sitting by the road, we gave up on waiting for the taxi, and a bus headed for the desert picked us up, dropping me at Chez Ahmend's at 2000hrs. My estimated 3hr trip took me a nice eventful 5hrs!

I recall not being extremely upset. I was actually pretty calm through it all, and my final berber omelette at Ahmed's did help soothe me quite a bit.

For only EUR5 a night!!!

What did irk me though, was the little boy by the side of the road, stopping me on my stroll back to the hotel to ask the "very important question" of" Sir, do you have any money?"

My thoughts:

In Morocco, you do not need a plan to have an adventure-filled holiday. You can have no plan, and adventure will find you.
Many Moroccans think that with a little spoken english, they are able to demand money from tourists
I find it easier to accept people's hospitality when I have money, as compared to when I have none, though I still cannot explain why.

Luggage storage in Istanbul

2009-07-27T00:36:00.000+08:00

I learnt that there are no lockers for baggage storage at the bus station close to Taksim Square in Istanbul, so here's what I did:

Board a metro train with full luggage, and show discomfort in maneuvering it through the crowded cabin. I had 4hours to kill before my return flight to Oslo.

Spoke to the person next to me when I got my seat. Asked about his career, and his plans. Shared with him my plan for the day, which was to find a place to store my baggage for 4hours so that I could visit the Chora Museum.

My fellow passenger was a retired Turkish doctor who had been living in Australia for the past 30 years. He was in Istanbul to visit his friends, who had offices around Taksim Square. He suggested I put my bag at his friend's office, and pick it up after I had finished my sightseeing.

Thinking that it was just clothes in the bag, I took up his offer. After all, even if the bag disappeared, the office would not, rite?

Upon alighting the metro at Taksim Square, we walked around 400m to his friend's office on the 3rd floor of a building, which turned out to be a company which provided accounting services. I placed my bag down and took off for the Chora museum

I returned 3 hours later, with 2 oranges for the office boss, picked up my bag and left Turkey with the best example of world-famous Turkish hospitality.

Chora museum, with the best church mosaics I have ever seen

Sharing an umbrella

2009-07-26T19:42:00.000+08:00

I was in New York in mid-April for a week. It's a great city, and the fact that a junior college friend of mine offered me her vacant apartment to stay for the entire week was just the icing on the cake.

To repay her kindness, I took her out to dinner. The evening we met, it was raining, and we had to share her umbrella. Being the taller person/gentleman, I held the umbrella. She stood on the left, me on the right, and I held the umbrella in my right hand.

And she asked,"Why hold the umbrella with your right hand?"

Referring to the diagram on the left, it can be seen that the bottom scenario is more practical, as both parties get more shelter from the umbrella.
But it seemed like a chore to explain the entire rationale of doing so, and I would have probably shocked/scared her if she found out that I had actually thought through this meaningless procedure, so I guess the only smart thing to reply was," So that I can put my arm around you"

I have to admit I am not usually like this, and definitely not used to putting my arms around a Singaporean, due to our generally conversative cultural background. But as we were in New York, I suppose it was right to put away the old-fashioned thinking and be spontaneous.

She seemed to appreciate the humour and my guiding hand, and off we went to a great dinner at Landmarc.

Learning points:

I have the ability to make a discussion out of the most insignificant matters

There are tons of beautiful eligible women in Manhattan, New York, and some of them bring out the suaveness in me
I need a course on how to break down physical barriers with Singapore women.

Last minute couch in Bodø, North Norway

2009-07-26T10:49:00.000+08:00

Ever since finding out about couchsurfing from my sister in April 20o8, I joined the community and have been trying to couchsurf as much in my travels as possible. By the end of my European travels in early June 2009, I would have surfed more than 10 couches, and probably hosted more than 7 guests on my Oslo couch, including attending quite a few parties and gatherings, and meeting members for coffee and drinks. My profile can be found at:

http://www.couchsurfing.org/people/bentse/

This post describes the bizarre fashion I found a couch in Bodø, up in north Norway.

I had befriended 2 Czech tourists at Å, and we met again at the Moskenes jetty and contined our chat about photography, the Northern Lights and travelling on the 3 hour ferry journey. I was headed toBodø, where I would have to spend the night before flying off the next morning back to Oslo.
Saying goodbye to the Lofoten Islands

An hour away from Bodø, I told them that I still had no accomodation for the night, and that I was trying to couchsurf there, but due to the extremely few members there, I still had no couch for the night, and was hoping to find a cheap hostel or hotel.

Marketa, one of the Czechs, told me that she was on couchsurfing too, and she had actually found a couch for the night. However, she was making her way south to Trondheim that evening, and was not going to meet her host. She suggested that I contact her host via sms to check if I could take her place instead. I thought it strange to send a request via sms, but on the other hand, there was nothing to lose, and so I did. To my pleasant surprise, the host, Arvid, agreed to take me in at this last minute notice!

I made my way to Arvid's place upon alighting the ferry. Arvid would be around 40, very fit (he had just completed a kayaking tour), and was a manager of a dance club. His apartment was still under contruction, but the furnished parts were extremely modern and typically Scandinavian in design (ie nice). We had a half hour introduction and chat, he handed me his housekeys, offered me his food, TV, DVD collection, gave me permission to bring a girl home, and he left for a party. That was the first and last time I saw Arvid. I took a shower and went out for dinner, and to meet Katherine, my colleague who was staying with her family in town. I was introducing Katherine the couchsurfing concept and thought I'd show her Arvid's place, which looked like a cross between a spa and a construction site. Whilst at the entrance to his apartment, one of Arvid's neighbours opened his front door, and asked in Norwegian if we were from childcare services. Puzzled, we replied no, and ignored him. Ten minutes later, at the front of the building, a lady popped open her window, and asked us the same question! Again we responded no, but this time I asked Katherine if she should call them, as this family might have been abusing their child. I guess they raise their kids differently up North.

Katherine left shortly after, I went back to Arvid's, watched a couple of DVDs, slept, woke up early the next morning, left the keys in the living room, and caught the flight to Oslo.

Lessons learnt:

Couchsurfing is extremely popular, and do not be surprised if you meet a fellow member in your travels, wherever you may be.
Generosity and hospitality continues to exist, and sometimes it might be easier to trust strangers than friends/colleagues/neighbours
I appear to be a trustworthy person

Getting around in the Lofoten Islands

2009-07-22T23:33:00.000+08:00

I spent Easter 2009 in the Lofoten Islands, a group of islands in the north of Norway, above the arctic circle, famous for its breathtaking scenery and laidback atmosphere.

I had planned to spend 8 days there, to make my way from the northernmost island of Svolvær to the southernmost tip of Å.

I had checked out all the bus timings to make the journey possible, taking into account that it was Easter period and that the bus frequency would be much lower. However, I did not take into account that it was still the low season for tourism, and that most of the hotels, bed and breakfasts and hostels were closed in this period. To make matters worst, the hostel at Svolvær was too expensive for me to stay too long, and the cheaper accomodation was at Å, all the way in the south!

Problem - How was I going to explore the middle islands without accomodation there?

I took a bus to Å on the third day. I knew I had accomodation. I just did not know how I was going to see the other islands. I read and heard that hitchhiking in the north of Norway was common and I thought it was about time I tried. Somehow the Asian mentality in me was still not too accepting of hitchhiking as a mode of transportation.

Upon arrival at the hostel in Å, I befriended 2 fellow travellers, a Finn by the name of Jakke, and an Austrian girl named Martina. We had all arrived around the same time that evening at the hostel, and I found out that both Jakke and Martina were driving through the legendary Lofotens!

I took up Jakke's offer to be his co-driver and "tour guide". He needed to know which parts of the islands to visit, and I needed his wheels. Perfect. We set off early the next morning and drove to Eggum via Reine, Borg and Napp. Jakke was short of time, as he was rushing to Tromso to meet friends for a ski trip. He dropped me off at Eggum, about 10km from the bus stop, where my plan was to either hitch hike back to the hostel, or to catch the bus, whichever was earlier. I was in no rush. I still had 4 days to discover 2 other islands on my list.

Jakke's car Beach near Eggum

As though my luck could not get better, within 5 minutes of getting off Jakke's car, Martina drove by and offered to drive me around the islands with her 2 friends! It's hard to understand how charmed I can get... we went to Utakleiv, Unstad, Nusfjord, and she even dropped me back at the hostel. And thus, I managed to see all the parts of the Lofotens I had intended to visit, and I still had 4 days to go!

And thus ended my hitchhiking opportunities...

I stayed around Å for the remaining days, doing some hiking (limited by avalanches), cycling (to find an unsecured wireless connection), photo-taking, befriending other tourists and even watching a dvd purchased at the petrol station (out of sheer boredom).

Lessons learnt:
- Sometimes less planning is better (as experienced in Morocco as well).
- Travel with an open mind. Insignificant things are better appreciated.
- People are nice and are willing to help in general. You just need a thick skin to ask for it.

Interesting Moroccan sayings

2009-07-22T00:02:00.000+08:00

I just find Morocco so fascinating, and that I have many experiences there to share... including the following things i picked up from my 2 trips there:

"For you my friend, special democratic price...."

"We don't push like Bush"

"No hurry like Ferrari"

"Moroccan men are warriors, and we have fire within us. We can f*** for hours!"

"Insha'Allah" - meaning God willing.

Flying with drunk Norwegians...

2009-07-21T23:12:00.000+08:00

One of my more memorable flights was from Marrakesh to Oslo, back in October 2008.

What I hear from my Norwegian friends is that Norwegians like to go for charter tours, and get really drunk and behave silly from the moment they board the plane. What I experienced first hand was a Norwegian getting drunk on the flight back to Norway.

It was a 6hr flight in the afternoon, and I took the window seat and a norwegian woman in her 40s (lets call her Norsk dame) in the aisle seat, with the middle seat vacant. Her husband occupied the opposing aisle seat.

I could not help but notice that the Norwegians around me (seats in front and beside) were consuming beer and wine purchased from the in-flight catering, and having some stuck-in-your-seats party.

3 hours into the flight and a few wines later, Norsk dame picked up her magazine. I turned on her reading light to assist. She appreciated the gesture. She fidgeted uncomfortably for 20 minutes and gave up reading for some sleep. She could not sleep in her seated position, and so she raised the arm rest to her side, and lay down, occupying the vacant seat, head toward me. She smiled at me to get my consent.
After 10 minutes of writhing in the 2 seats, she decided she needed more space and politely asked if she could place her head on my lap.
I responded," only if your husband does not mind." We looked towards him for a response, and he just smiled at us. I agreed. He then said," You're a good man." I just smiled, puzzled at what had just happened.

For the rest of the flight, I remember chatting to the couple and taking pictures (for the husband) of the sleeping Norsk dame on my lap.

I still wonder:
Why did I allow Norsk dame to lie on my lap? (I did not find her attractive)
Would I allow my drunken spouse to lie on a stranger's lap?
Is such behaviour embarassing? It's all done in good fun after all.

Jakarta bombings

2009-07-18T23:47:00.001+08:00

I arrived in Jakarta on Friday morning at 0830hrs.
Whilst waiting for my host's driver to pick me up, i got an sms from a friend, asking me if I had left Jakarta. I thought it was a strange question, so i responded that I had just arrived and I asked her if something was wrong. To my horror, she told me that the Ritz Carlton Jakarta had just been bombed.
In the next few hours, I receive sms and calls asking about my safety, to which I promptly respond to reassure both friends and family.
At lunchtime, I am with my host Elisabeth, her mother, 2 aunties and their driver, having lunch at a seafood restaurant, after a visit to the History and Wayang Museums and the old port.
Somehow they see it very differently from a non-Indonesian's perspective. I just put my faith in them, and trust that they would not bring me to places where there would be potential danger.
The day continues with a visit to some shops selling brassware and the National Monument. I have dinner at her place, and spend the rest of the night watching a hilarious game show called Take Me Out Indonesia, where each week, around 30 girls hope to find their Prince Charming from 7 potential male candidates.
I spend Saturday in Bandung and its surroundings, where I visit a couple of volcanic craters and the city centre. After a fantastic dinner at Kampong Daun, I return back to Elisabeth's and make the wiser choice of staying indoors.

I have another day in Jakarta, and up to this moment I am having a fabulous time, notwithstanding the 9 bombscares that were announced over the radio and television on Friday.
I trust my host knows how to stay safe in the city, and I will follow her advice accordingly, and not put my health at risk.
Thanks for the smses and calls and facebook posts, my dear friends and family, and stay positive as I am!

ben

My most stressful night of travelling

2009-07-16T09:51:00.000+08:00

1 night in Er Rachidia

Er Rachidia is mainly a military base, with good bus connections to other main cities of Morocco, including the desert. I spent 1 night there, to make a choice of whether to continue towards the Sahara desert or to Fez for my boutique hotel room.

The moment I alighted the tourist bus, Kamal (more about Kamal later) received me. Kamal informed me that accommodation in Er Rachidia was about Dh130 (ca. EUR13) a night. However upon stepping into the hotel, the price per room was raised to Dh390, as he thought there were 3 people, and each bed would cost Dh130. I was pissed, and I demanded a cheaper room, to which he brought me to another hotel, and charged me Dh20 for something that looked pretty much like a prison cell with a broken bed. Again I told him off and asked for a better quality room. I managed to get a half-decent room (details and picture to follow) for Dh120 that night on the third attempt.

These are the other experiences that made things worse:

Being offered a desert tour package which was more expensive than the one I paid for in Marrakesh, when I was only 80km away from the dunes (the dunes are more than 200km away from Marrakesh), to which I aggressively declined (I told Kamal toF*** off).

No one could give clear information on directions to the desert from Er Rachidia, about whether the flood had subsided clearing the road to the desert, or a weather forecast. Well, no one really spoke English.

Mostapha trying to help with directions/weather advice

My means of communicating with Mostapha

Owner of the internet café wanted to rip me off an additional EUR0.1 in front of his very young daughter/niece, who was grinning at his dishonesty.

Sleeping in a room with a broken door handle on the inside and a window facing the toilet.

fancy?

The morning after - a different Kamal
I survived the night in that hotel room, to my relief (I do remember calling my ex at night informing her of my situation), and made my way to the bus station, with my dreams of reaching the Sahara shattered, towards Fez.
I saw Kamal at the bus station, and told him my plan. I had some time to kill before my bus arrived, and so I sat down with Kamal for a pot of Moroccan tea. Kamal was a totally different person from the night before. No more pushy and sly sales tactics. Just talking about family, his business, the djellaba, and life in Er Rachidia. It was filled with sincerity and laughter.

I guess the lesson here was - People have more fun when money is not involved.

Morocco - where less planning is better

2009-07-16T00:28:00.000+08:00

I used to take pride in the way I organised my trips, with Excel spreadsheets detailing where to go on which day, how much to spend, and where I would be staying. Basically, everything was always under control. Turned out Morocco is just not the country you want to visit if you expect things to go smoothly..

I had planned a week for Morocco (18-25 October 2008), with a 3 day trip to the Sahara desert, and subsequently to Fez, Meknes etc. The plan was not detailed as my other trips, but I'd enough faith in the public transport system to get me from one city to the next on time.

A Sahara desert tour package was booked from Marakkesh, and the plan was to finish the tour in Marakkesh and make my way to Fez immediately. I booked a boutique hotel room (EUR65 a night) in Fez, in anticipation that I would need it after a camel ride and a night under the stars in the Western Sahara desert.

Here is where things went wrong:

We were supposed to arrive at the Erg Chebbi desert dunes on the second night of the tour, after a 200km bus ride from the Dades Gorges. We arrived at Erfous, 40km away from the dunes, and our tour bus came to an abrupt halt. Apparently all traffic had stopped as the road to the desert was flooded!

Checking with the driver, there was no alternative route, and all he could do was to drive back 200km to the Dades Gorges to spend the night, and return to Marakkesh the next day.

That was not an option for me, as I had to get to the desert that night, and then make my way to Fez immediately for the following night in the boutique hotel (which I could not cancel!).

So I made my own Plan B - I dropped off at the nearest town of Er Rachidia, where I would spend my most horrible night of travelling ever, and reflect whether to make my way to the desert the next morning, or to make my way to Fez for the boutique hotel.

What happened in Er Rachidia will be documented in another post, but the eventual conclusion was that I would make my way to Fez, and leave my Saharan adventure for another trip (which I did make in June 2009). I found out later from the tourists on the desert tour that they made it to the desert the following night and had an excellent time.

To summarise - Flood destroyed my dream of making it to the Sahara desert, and I spent a night in an amazing boutique hotel to comfort myself for missing it.

I was alot more well prepared in my return to Morocco in June 2009. I did not make any plan at all... and it was a good thing I did not...details to be documented in a later post.

Chinese saying - Have fate thousand miles will meet; No fate face-to-face will not hold hands

2009-07-15T15:23:00.000+08:00

The following entry focuses on the first half of above saying.

This happened in the summer of 2008, whilst on my Spain tour with Charpin. We were in Granada (13 July 2008), touring the Alhambra (what else?!). I had gone ahead to take some pics and ten minutes later I turned around to see Charp had befriended someone.

She was Jamie, an American psychology undergrad on exchange in Toledo, a charming town just an hour from Madrid. I mentioned that I would probably be visiting Toledo later on, and it would be great to meet up again. We exchanged email addresses, got a pic of Charp and Jamie, and departed, as she only had an hour (or half?) to finish the entire Alhambra. I did not have further correspondence with Jamie due to the hectic pace of our trip (10 cities in 14 days) ...
Fast forward to a week later, whilst walking through the old town of Toledo (19 July 2008), I noticed a familiar attractive blond walking with a companion, and yes, it was Jamie! This time we exchanged phone numbers, and I promised to call her to meet for a drink once I finished my tour of Toledo (I had only 3 hours). I did call Jamie after the sightseeing and picture-taking, but somehow was not able to get through...
I guess this post does have to do with the second half of the chinese saying after all...
To date, we keep in touch online, and I must thank her for entertaining me during my many boring weekday nights in Oslo!

Talking to Norwegians

2009-07-15T13:55:00.000+08:00

Norwegians have been reputed to be cold people, and some of the most difficult people to befriend. That might be true to an extent, but I know Norwegians to be curious and extremely warm on first impression , meaning they will smile, laugh, query, dance, drink with you and even give you their contact number/email address/facebook contact (and possibly more), but do not expect to ever see or hear from them again in the future.

Here are a couple of pleasant first impressions:

On a late Friday evening, after the usual fredagspils (customary Friday beer session), I was thinking of saving on cab fare and asked the girl in front of me in the taxi queue if she was headed in the same direction as me, and it turned out she was. We shared the taxi ride back. Turns out she was an auditor as well! Some money saved, and good conversation on the journey.

On a separate evening, I had missed the last train back home. Again, in order to save some cab fare, I approached a slim attractive blond and asked if she was headed in the same direction as me, and whether she would like to share a cab with me. Turns out she was headed back to the university close to my place, and agreed to share the cab, but had no cash and needed to draw some from the nearby ATM. I then suggested that since it was only a half hour walk in the Oslo snowy winter, why not walk the journey instead. To my surprise she actually agreed, and we walked and talked to our own residences.

Interesting thing I remembered from that conversation was how she had to redo a semester in university due to almost a year spent in bed, as she found herself very weak and unable to get out of bed to work and study (a disease you will probably not hear of in Singapore).

Another observation: I only asked her name at the end of the evening, meaning we had been sharing personal things such as work, studies, family, relationships, health and hobbies for half an hour with a stranger.

Are names important at all?

There were quite a few more random encounters, but the above 2 just remind me of the kind of friendliness that I have yet to receive in Singapore.

First entry - introduction

2009-07-15T11:15:00.000+08:00

Here you will find some experiences encountered during my travels during the period October 2007 to July 2009, which I found amazing or in some ways amusing.
I decided to document them in a blog in July 2009, for fear that I might forget them, and to aid in my memoirs writing possibly 40 years from now...
Hope you enjoy reading them!

Ben