Of Lost Opportunities

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!

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!

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?

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

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

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

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

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!