Women Travelling Alone

Valley of the Kings

2012-02-11T02:38:00.000-08:00

The Valley of the Kings was burning hot - wear light clothes, a hat and bring loads of sunscreen. I didn't bring sunscreen and I suffered for it.

Going down, down, down, down to see the Egyptian hieroglyphics in the cool underground tombs was spectacular. There's lots to see down there, but get ready to climb up and down mega amounts of stairs. There were a lot of Kings in the Valley, but plenty of Queens in Luxor.

Luxor, Egypt

2012-01-18T07:20:00.000-08:00

Walking along the street just after dusk I was approached by a boy of about 15 with tattered jeans and dark, stringy hair that hung over his forehead.

'Taxi?'
'No, thanks.'
'You look for hotel?'
'Nope, got one.'
'Felucca?'
'No thanks, done that.'
'You like tour for Karnak?'
'Done.'
'How about the drug?'
'No, thanks.'
'Sex? You like sex?'
I stopped at that and looked him up and down.
'Yeah, but you're a little young for me.'

I had to give this little fella ten points for persistence, and that's the way it was in Luxor. The touts in Luxor were the most persistent sons-of-bitches I'd ever experienced anywhere in the world, and that includes India. I don't know what anybody else's experiences are with touts, but I found that the only way to deal with them was to stride straight ahead with my eyes locked into the future, no stopping, no turning around, no eye contact, no blurting out 'no thanks.' In otherwords, nada. To communicate anything is tantamount to saying yes and you'll never shake one off once he's glommed on to you. I found that the only trick that worked. I never worried about hostility, they were all friendly, they just drove me to distraction after a while. READ MY LIPS - NO THANKS!

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Cairo, Egypt

2011-12-22T06:27:00.000-08:00

Going it alone is my preferred traveling mode, especially if I'm on a 6-month trip. I've never traveled with any member of my family, for the simple reason that I don't have a family. Except for my daughter, whom I traveled throughout Asia with, I'm on my own. However, I've traveled with a few good friends, and when in Cairo, I met up with an old friend at the Nile Hilton. Although it was comfortable, and right beside the Cairo Museum and Tahir Square, it's not really my type of accommodation.

Taking a taxi from Cairo to the pyramids in Giza will take you through stunning ghettos: mile after mile after mile of red brick buildings that are surrounded by heaps of burning trash, donkeys, and smashed-up cars.

Cairo - Giza

2011-11-30T10:32:00.000-08:00

A Night At The Mission

2011-11-25T23:04:00.001-08:00

George Carlin:

'I know, some people don't like you to mention certain things. Some people don't want you to say this. Some people don't want you to say that. Some people think if you mention some things they might happen.....some people are really fucking stupid!

Did you ever notice that? How many really stupid people you run into during the day? Carry a little pad and pencil with you. You'll wind up with thirty or forty names by the end of the day. Look at it this way: Think of how stupid the average person is and then realize that half of them are stupider than that. And it doesn't take you very long to spot one of them does it? Takes you about eight seconds. You'll be listening to some guy......and you'll think.......'this guy is fucking stupid!' Then there are some people, they're not stupid......their full of shit. That doesn't take very long to spot either, does it? Takes you about the same amount of time. You'll be listening to some guy..and thinking, 'well, he's fairly intelligent, ......ahh, he's full of shit!' Then there are some people, they're not stupid, they're not full of shit...they're fucking nuts!'
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Juanita, a woman I taught high school with in Taiwan, had to leave the country in order to renew her visa, so she asked me if I wanted to go along with her to Hong Kong. As she was a missionary, she said that we could stay at the Mission House right in the heart of the city. It's not free, she said, but it won't cost much.

We arrived late that night and took a taxi into town, and after traipsing the same block for what seemed like hours looking for the place, I looked up and saw a banner draped across a building that said JESUS IS LOVE AND JESUS IS THE LIGHT. That’s gotta be the joint, I said, pointing it out to my friend.

While Juanita watched our bags, I went in and climbed up to the fourth floor and knocked on the only door I saw. An Asian fellow with about as much warmth as a urine-soaked blanket answered and, not understanding what I was saying I presumed, closed the door in my face while I was still talking. I felt like kicking the door. Born-again Christian my ass. I went back downstairs to Juanita and told her what had happened, so she went upstairs and knocked again and explained to him who we were and that we had been given permission to stay at the Mission. She called down to me and I dragged our stuff up the stairs.

The welcome mat was a missionary from China, who was staying there with his Taiwanese wife, and when we walked in with our bags I could barely look at him. As we unloaded our bags in the bedroom I asked Juanita what if I had been a person who was in need and I was asking for help? What then?

I relished the thought of a sleep after the long haul to get there and didn't want this bird to get me down, but I would have stood a better chance at getting into heaven than getting a good night’s sleep because my bed was a foot too short, my mattress was thin and lumpy and covered in suspicious stains, and my pillow might have been stuffed at a rock quarry. A metallic smell from the garbage that wafted in through our open window made my throat ache, but what really topped it all off was Juanita farting and snoring louder than a freight train blasting through an underground tunnel. I barked over at her a few times, telling her to turn over, but that usually lasted for about five minutes before she was back at it.

The next morning I woke up all groggy, but happy to be in Hong Kong, and went to take a shower while Juanita remained wrapped up in her sleeping bag. The deadbeat Christian had told us to flick the switch to heat the water before getting in the shower so that’s what I did, but when I returned after half an hour and turned the coldwater tap on, the water that came barreling out of the spout was so scalding hot I burned my frigging arm almost right down to the bone. I ran to Juanita. Get me to the hospital! A pharmacy! I need a doctor! Jesus Christ, I'm fucking scarred for life here!

As we were putting salve over my burn and bandaging my arm, the Chinese bj came out of his room and said, oh, I should have told you to watch out for the shower because it's dangerous, and, seeing as he had been there for over two months and he didn’t think to mention it, I thought it was just pure malice that he hadn’t. The shower was a lethal weapon for God’s sake.

After a long day sightseeing, we arrived back at the Mission, and the second night wasn't much better than the first. At 6:00 the next morning I heard a dreadful pounding on a piano with what seemed to be some sort of gospel music being sung. I got up and closed the door and tried to go back to sleep but the door closing brought a woman down the hall to our door. She opened it up and turned on the light. She looked at us contemptuously, as if she'd just caught us in the act of stuffing Bibles into our knapsacks. Who are you? Where are you from? Why are you here? Who let you in? How many people do have to dislike in a weekend, I thought as I turned over while Juanita went out to talk with her. She was another missionary from America in Hong Kong, and was involved in some program or another, but when she came and went during the night, I never talked to her.

The lackluster Christian was gone; he and his Taiwanese wife had left, so Juanita took their room that night, but not two hours after crawling into bed there started up a truckload of hammering and banging upstairs, just over her head. I heard a muffled bit of it and chuckled. Whoever said that revenge isn't sweet never got revenge. She finally got up and came into my room and told me that she was going to pray and consult her Bible about the noise.

I guess Jesus was busy because after an hour of prayer she went upstairs and knocked on the door of the apartment. There was no answer so she knocked at another door across the hall. The man who answered told her that nobody lived on that floor but him and that he hadn't heard any noise. We both thought it was strange, but when Juanita discussed it with the old missionary later on that day, she also told Juanita that nobody lived above the Mission, and that furthermore, the apartment above had supposedly been vacant for years. They finally reasoned that all the noise must have been coming from demons. Did you call out the demons in Jesus’ name? asked the old missionary. Juanita replied that she did. I prayed for an hour, and then I prayed some more in the chapel. There are many evil spirits who would seek to destroy us, said the old missionary, so I think we should pray and ask God to bless his mission.

By the time Juanita and I were having coffee later that morning I thought I’d heard it all. She'd tried to get me to 'come to Jesus' a few times. Then, she started in about Israel and how they deserved to have their own country because that's where Jesus was supposedly going to touch down. I asked her how he was planning to get back to Israel. She replied, from out of the clouds he will appear, it's written in the Bible, and that time is soon. Everyone will see him coming. How would we see him coming? I used to ponder that one, she said, it really bothered me. But now that there are satellite dishes and the world can tune in to any station at any time, the whole world could watch and rejoice. Everybody will see it. Okay, but what if I'm at the bank cashing a check? I'll miss it. How will I know? What if I don’t have a television? A lot of people don't watch television. Besides, I said, he'd probably be shot down by an American-made smart bomb before he even got within 200 miles of the coastline.

She wanted to talk further, but I was too tired. I decided I would fly back to Taiwan that night and went that day to change my ticket. I was missing my own bed. When we got back to the Mission, we swept our room and cleaned the bathroom and gave them $40 for our three nights. I was choked because I felt they owed me money for putting up with their corny asses and suffering a burn almost down to the bone. But one thing is for sure, I know Jesus would have given me a discount.

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In spite of our accommodations, we did manage to do quite a bit in the three days we were there.

Ferry across the water to the Ngong Ping cable car

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Ngong Ping Cable Car

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Llama Island - Picnic Bay

Jaipur - Amber (Amer) Fort - Palace of Mirrors

2011-09-11T23:41:00.000-07:00

Incredible Jaipur

Yeah, I totally ride elephants everyday. Aimee was so comfortable up there with her bunny riding up to the Amber Fort.

I shared a room at the Jaipur Inn with Sheila, an English girl who was on her way to Australia to study nursing, and we hooked up with her for a few days to see all the sights around Jaipur. I'd recommend the Inn, it had a rooftop terrace, it was roomy and clean and a great place to connect with other travelers.

We visited the Amber Fort, also known as the Palace of Mirrors. It was hot and dusty and a bit out of town, but the palace was deserted when we finally reached the top.

On our way to the fort in our modern transportation - a bicycle rickshaw.

The fort was really up there

Snake charmers are everywhere

Aimee inside fort. The walls are covered with glass and mirrors.

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Aimee and Sheila

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Halls in the fort and a bathing pool

Looking down at Jaipur from the fort

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Around town in Jaipur

The Wind Palace or the Pink Palace)

Sitting outside the Pink Palace was this sadhu

The largest sun clock in the world is in Jaipur

The Taj Mahal

2011-08-10T09:42:00.000-07:00

The Taj Mahal, Shan Jahan's monument to his wife, is more impressive when you stand in front of it.

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Varanasi Tourism - The City That Never Sleeps

2011-08-01T02:48:00.000-07:00

Although it was beautiful to observe in the early morning light, the Ganges is one of the most polluted river systems in the world. Knowing that Indians were in the water bathing and brushing their teeth and performing puja amongst partially burned dead bodies that had been chucked in from the ghats, garbage, dead animals, excrement from open sewers running straight into the river and industrial waste, made my skin crawl. All household waste seemed to be dumped in the river at will also, with the ubiquitous plastic everywhere. Dead holy men were also taken out about 100 metres and dumped in the strong current that runs south through the center of the river. I even saw people drinking the water. Here are some truly shocking pictures of what I'm talking about, but don't click on this site if you're squeamish. What really took me by surprise were some German tourists that I had met who were heading out to do 'puja' with the Indians early in the morning. I told them they were insane, but they laughed and ran off.

After finally arriving in Varanasi (the religious center of the world for Hindus) from Gaya, we took a tonga to the ghats on the Ganges River. Early the next morning we hired a rowboat to see the sunrise on the Ganges. It was amazing. It's the best time to see the Ganges, as pilgrims come down to the river to perform their puja (prayers).

The main cremation ghat is the Manikarnika, and many funeral processions wind their way through town before ending up at this burning ghat. I walked down the bathing steps to the water to watch as two doms (outcastes) washed an old man's body. He bobbed up and down stiffly in the water, his old puckered mouth gaping open as the two doms threw water over him and chatted, as if they were rinsing off a fish. Then they carried the body back up the bathing stairs and wrapped him in a white shroud before placing him at the top of a funeral pyre of wood, which was then lit. He was now released from the eternal wheel of 'moksha,' which means death and rebirth.

My daughter and I decided to go out on the water again. Walking above the bathing steps we were constantly hassled by touts, but the way to handle them is to stare straight ahead and pretend you've never seen or heard them. They melt away quickly when they see that you're never going to acknowledge them.

Six nuns were already in the boat when we stepped on board. Then we were out on the river and Aimee reached over the boat and splashed water at me for fun. 'No!' I screeched, cringing as if I'd been hit by carbolic acid. 'Don't do that! It's filthy!'

Our hotel was tucked in amongst the winding alleyways behind the bathing steps. The alleys were splattered in cow shit and once I saw an Indian man get covered with crap as a cow just suddenly let loose. Once I was stuck behind a cow and I had to get somebody to move him. Cows are sacred in India and they're allowed to roam at will. Traffic will sometimes come to a standstill until a cow gets off the road. It's crazy.

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What happens to the mountain of cow shit everywhere? It gets scooped up by hand by women carrying plastic buckets who then take it to the river where it's shaped and plastered against the walls of the bathing steps. Once dried, it's used as fuel for fire.

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One night a few of us were invited to hear Varanasi's great sitar player, although I can't remember his name. He gave music lessons. We sat there mesmerized until, of course, the usual power outage. He didn't skip a beat and played in the dark until someone lit a candle. It was fabulous.

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The streets were packed and I had to hold on tight to my daughter's hand so she didn't get caught up.

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This little guy was f-a-l-l-i-n-g over.

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Sarnath

Not too far from Varanasi is Sarnath. After the Buddha was enlightened he went and gave his first sermon at Sarnath. Read the Footprints of Gautama the Buddha by Marie Beuzeville Byles. It's fantastic.

Asoka Column

Dhamek Stupa

The Ruins

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Travel only with thy equals or thy betters; if there are none, travel alone. – The Dhammapada

Mahabodhi Temple Complex - Bodh Gaya, India

2011-07-27T05:11:00.001-07:00

Aimee (my 9-year-old daughter) and I left early from Calcutta for the train to Bodhi Gaya, one of the holiest sites in India. In India there is a women's queue and a men's queue for tickets. Thank God for that because we would have waited hours. There are also separate compartments for women on the train and thank God for that, too, because it would have been hell having to put up with the hacking, spitting, ball scratching and nose picking that comprises male social etiquette in Asia. We rode in a small compartment with a grandmother, her daughter and her baby grandchild. They were very sweet.

Everything was perfect until we went to get off the train. We gathered up our things and stood in the aisle as it screeched into Gaya. It was dark, and peering out the window I couldn't see anything because there were no lights on the platform. I re-adjusted the knapsack on my back and took Aimee's hand and we waited for the doors to open so we could get off quickly, but when the door to the train opened a wall of water carrying trunks and suitcases and boxes and chickens surged onto the train and thrust us all backwards towards the seats and empty compartments we'd just vacated. Everybody started screaming as we reeled against the stampeding hordes galloping by in their mad scramble to find seats, thrusting Aimee and I and everybody else out of the way. I hung on to her and for a moment, I thought we were going to be crushed or suffocated. I told her to hang on to the back of my knapsack and DON'T LET GO FOR CHRIST'S SAKE and then I leaned into the surging crowd and pushed and shoved and swore and elbowed my way through until we finally got to the door of the train and jumped down on to the platform. I could feel Aimee's hand clutching the back of my knapsack as she collapsed beside me. I lost a shoe but we were okay. The grandmother and her family had made it off the train, but they were all traumatized and crying.

The platform we found ourselves on reminded me of the movie Blade Runner. There were no lights, only the ubiquitous flickering of candles and small fires. The smell of urine and smoke permeated the air and I had to hold my breath. I tripped over somebody lying on the ground and that's when I realized just how many people were camping out and making it their permanent address. Babies wrapped up in ratty blankets slept beside their mothers and orphans in tattered, filthy clothing wandered about asking for handouts. I didn't go anywhere near the bathroom, which was just an outside platform with holes. When the kids spotted us they all ran towards us in a mob with their hands out, jumping up and down. Backsheesh! Baksheesh! Baksheesh! They pulled on my arm and tugged at my bags and I wished I could have given them all money because they were such a sorry looking lot. I pushed past them and into the station where I was surprised to see that a cow had also taken up residence and was scrounging around for his dinner.

Men on horses wearing turbans, bullock carts, tongas, cycle-rickshaws as well as bicycles crowded the road while cows and goats roamed freely. It seemed I had either traveled back to the fifteenth century or traveled ahead into a post-nuclear future. We passed food stalls, restaurants, kiosks, and people drinking tea until we came to a small hotel. I asked a fellow wearing a turban sitting outside what looked to be a hotel whether he had a room and he nodded and picked up a gas lamp and took us up a dark flight of stairs to a cramped room on the first floor. It had one double bed and a table and we had our own bathroom - a hole in the floor. It wasn't the Ritz but then, it wasn't the refugee camp I'd left behind at the train station, either.

Of course, everything looked different in the morning. We visited the Great Buddha Statue. It was massive. For a better look at the Great Buddha Statue go to this link.

Then on to the Mahabodhi Temple complex.

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When we were in Bodhgaya we stayed at the massive Tourist Bungalows, a barracks that was completely empty when we were there. There were more than 10 large rooms with at least 25 bunks in each one. It was very strange and quite spooky staying there all a-l-o-n-e at night. We usually wandered down a dark walkway to get to our dormitory room at night because the power wasn't very reliable.

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The poor are everywhere in India. Some live their whole lives sleeping on the pavements. This is just outside the wall of the Mahabodhi temple complex.

An Unpleasant Sight in Calcutta

2011-07-20T01:35:00.000-07:00

The line-up at Calcutta immigration went on forever, and it took forever to finally get out of the airport. Wandering out into the dark was scary and I was glad I brought my flashlight. In a big, dusty yard across from the exit, people were climbing into banged up tin cans that might have been dragged out of a wrecker's yard and hammered back into shape, but not wanting to be left behind, Aimee and I climbed on to the last bus leaving. It was cramped and dark and stuffed with people and luggage and the ceiling lights blinked on and off as we bounced over the road to the highway. I had no idea where we were going.

Garbage lay in heaps and red spittle juice was splattered on every surface. Trucks, cars, bicycles, street vendors, smoke and people choked the streets and every so often the smell of urine blew into the bus through the cracked windows. What have I got myself into now? Down the middle of the main thoroughfare of Calcutta a long, deep tunnel had been dug out where people had lit fires and set up camp. Lean-tos made of corrugated tin, wire, blankets and cardboard had been erected and people were cooking and canoodling on banged-up furniture that looked like it probably came from a dump site.

Dust swirled outside and blew into our bus as I asked the Indian woman sitting beside me why the street had been dug out, leaving mountains of dirt for everyone to walk around. She replied that it was a subway system that hadn't yet been finished and because the city had run out of money, there was no telling when it would be. It went on for blocks.

My daughter frequently grabbed my arm. 'Mommy, look at that!' Both men and women in rags staggered about as if in a daze, and whenever the bus stopped, filthy children ran around the outside of the bus with their hands outstretched. Baksheesh! Baksheesh! Baksheesh!

We finally arrived at a main square and I got out my guidebook and looked again at the hotel section of Calcutta. I didn't feel any threat from anybody even though many people stood and stared at us, but by this time it was eleven at night, not the time to be wandering around looking for a place. A taxi driver let us off on Sudder Road, a tourist district with hostels and hotels. Everything was booked and my mind sank until one hotel owner said we could stay in his office. While we were setting up, a tall, black fellow wandered in and said with a big smile, 'you can share my room if you want.' I got a good vibe from him and so did Aimee. He had three beds in his room so we brought our stuff in and unpacked. He was Chuba Paul Moneke from Nigeria, and he really did us a favor.

The streets were quieter and shops were just closing up when I stepped outside for a moment to take a break. Out of the shadows an old man with bowed legs and wearing a filthy white dhoti appeared, and as he trudged past I thought, 'that old buzzard hasn't had a wash in at least ten years. Holy shit.' His hair was matted and covered in bits of fluff and dirt that he'd picked up from sleeping on the ground. His feet were tarred and he was covered in scabs and scars. Suddenly, about thirty feet away from where I was standing he stopped and put his back to the wall and removed his dhoti. He half squatted, resting his butt against the wall, and proceeded to take a huge crap that sputtered out of him like a cow. After he finished, he turned around and looked down at it then peed into his hand and washed his butt. A shopkeeper came out and started screaming at him and hit him and pointed to the mess. The old guy didn't miss a beat as he stooped down, picked up the dhoti where he'd dropped it on the sidewalk and nonchalantly wiped his butt. He then tossed it over the soggy mess and trudged off once again down the sidewalk. He was stark naked. The shopkeeper shook his fist and yelled curses as the old chip disappeared without so much as a howdy doody. Welcome to India.

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Travelling to India was a huge step for me because I was nervous about bringing my 9-year-old daughter there. I kept thinking I'd probably get sick and die from either food poisoning or some nasty disease because I'd heard so many disease horror stories. When I was in Malaysia (in Marang) I'd met a young couple who'd been all through India, and even though they were then heading down to Bali, they missed India so much they were going to cut their trip short to go back. It was a sign for me, because up until meeting them I couldn't decide whether to go to India or not, and hearing their positive stories I decided it must have been divine intervention. I decided to travel to India.

Temple of the Cosmic Buddha - Borobudur

2011-07-13T00:44:00.001-07:00

No trip to Indonesia would be complete without visiting Borobudur, a Buddhist temple in central Java.

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What I Learned In Bali, Indonesia

2011-07-08T22:00:00.000-07:00

What I learned in Bali was that the greatest place to visit and stay for weeks was Ubud. The culture is so rich with dancing and music and the arts. It was a great experience for my daughter Aimee, who was turning 9 when we were there. We had a big party for her. When I took her out of school months previously her principal said 'but she won't be getting an education for a year!' My only reply was 'Culture? Language? History? Geography?' She experienced it all here. I'm of the opinion that all children should visit other countries, even make it part of a school curriculum, because it's well worth it. Maybe then as adults they would be more tolerant of other cultures.

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Most of the kids learned Balinese dance, and it was amazing the way they curled their fingers almost backwards.

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Aimee's 9th birthday.

Bali High

2011-06-29T00:56:00.001-07:00

Bali. What a gorgeous little island. The Balinese? Fabulous people. From Suryaba on the mainland Cameron, Aimee and I took a bus to Denpasar, Bali. The bus ride was the most terrifying I've ever experienced with the bus driver in some kind of hurry to get on schedule. All of us, including all the other travelers, were just praying that we'd get there in one piece. Cameron went up to film the driver. He thought it was all good fun, but then I already knew by then that he was crazy. I don't know how I've managed to make it through to now with all the crappy bus rides I've been on.

From Denpasar we took another bus to Kuta, the main party central in Bali, where you can buy everything from leather goods to cheap imitation Indonesian prints for next to nothing. We got rooms at the Bali Dwipa Guest House for a good deal. It started to rain while we were there, and it never stopped. The roads were flooded out one night. I loved it though, because I love thunder storms.

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Here's Aimee heading into the temple with all the other ladies but they wouldn't let her in, Balinese only. The monkey sitting on his platform was stuck there all day, with nothing to do, chained up. It was pretty cruel the way they treated some of their 'pets' and I wanted to let him go. He was pretty sad.

Jakarta, Indonesia

2011-06-29T00:44:00.000-07:00

From Singapore I flew to Indonesia with Aimee and Cameron, the crazy man I met in Singapore who didn't even know he was entering Singapore with smoke in his knapsack. A bit of a character. Jakarta was horrid. A big dirty city and a dusty, dirty ride to the city from the airport. The roads were dark and crowded along the way, probably from power outages, so it was a bit spooky, with people just looming up out of the dark. We stayed in a hostel in the Jalan Jaksan area and flopped out as we were exhausted from the travel.

We picked up train tickets to Suryaba after waiting an hour in line. The city reminds me of Bangkok but I prefer Bangkok. It was sad to see so much misery that lives along the train tracks. The people were desperately poor. I didn't get a chance to take any other pictures other than these.

Swimming on Tiomen Island - Beautiful Malaysia

2011-06-17T02:37:00.000-07:00

We stopped in at Tioman Island for a few nights to swim and enjoy the beautiful isolation. I highly recommend Tioman Island. An old engine was rusting on the shore from a motor boat that had carried over refugees from Indonesia, and then once they got there, the boat was burned. No going back for them. I don't blame them. Malaysia is fantastic.

Here's Aimee swimming with some people she met.

Travelling With Children

2011-06-01T05:05:00.000-07:00

My daughter Aimee and I took an 8-hour ride with Pauli's boyfriend Robert from Ipoh to Singapore. Along for the ride until Kuala Lumpur was his beautiful Indian manager Davie. Robert took us everywhere in Singapore, and we wound up staying at Clemenceau Rd in an apartment building which (on the third floor at least) was converted to a YMCA type setup. It was probably the cheapest room available in downtown Singapore for $10/night. The only problem was that there were four bunks to a room and you had to share, whether man, woman or beast. And pretty soon there would be too many beasts.

I gathered that Robert had tons of dough to throw around because he paid for everything. He was just a generous guy. We went to the Crocodile Farm,

the Bird Sanctuary, and the Singapore Zoo

While we were in our room on Clemenceau an American fellow from California showed up, Cameron. He was going to share our room. We were already sharing our room with Bill, a great guy from England that Aimee quickly adored.

It was strange sharing a room with men but that's just the way it went, there was a scarcity of space. Cameron was quite the character and evidently a liberal architect because he didn't realize that he had a stoogie in his bag at the airport. I couldn't believe it, with the drug laws being so harsh and all you'd have thought he'd have checked his bags before leaving home. But no. He was ecstatic about his find. 'What a piece of luck' and smoked it out the window. He was the most relaxed person, I guess he's never been to jail or been caned twenty times.

It was getting close to midnight on New Year's so Cameron and Aimee and I decided to go downtown together and check out the sights. The streets were jammed with people, but what was even more interesting is that just after twelve the crowds started to disperse immediately and within half an hour the streets were practically deserted and the powerful street sweepers were out in full force. I've never seen a crowd disappear so quickly.

Singapore is strange. When I was there couldn't chew gum; if you didn't flush a toilet in the public toilets you could be fined $200; spitting was totally verboten. Some of the laws were pretty harsh for minor infractions. Singapore was remarkably box-like too. Because it's a small city-state everybody is thrust together in highrises, there's just no room for sprawl of any kind. However, the park in the center of the city was beautiful.

Being Chinese, they also don't waste any parts when it comes to meat. I was amazed at how resourceful the Singaporeans were with their food menus.

That night back at the 'hotel' I had to kick Cameron out of the room because his snoring could keep a person with narcolepsy awake. The guy was a freight train coming through the walls. Even after we kicked him out of the room and shut the door the walls were still vibrating. We wound up flying to Jakarta with Cameron, and that's a whole other story. I'm sure that he's still single.

Cameron Highlands Tea Plantations

2011-05-31T01:52:00.000-07:00

The bus lugged its way up the road beside the lush green mountainside to Tanah Rata, the biggest township in the Cameron Highlands, and it was scary because the road was so incredibly narrow I thought the bus would just teeter over into the valley below. The town itself was small, with only two rows of shops and a main street. But, like everything else, it is probably different now. The inn where we stayed for a week just outside the town was homey, but at night we had to watch that we didn't step on a cobra on the driveway, as we were told they crawled out at night from the surrounding jungle to cool off. A few nights later I saw a few of them.

There were a few Canadians there from Ottawa - Sally and Jennifer, and Paul from Denmark was loads of fun.

One night Aimee came into our room and said 'Mom, you have to come and meet these people.' So I got up and went into another cabin and there they were, all dressed up in their cigarette selling outfits - the Marlboro Gang. We became great friends and I backtracked to Ipoh in order to spend some time with them. They traveled all over Malaysia promoting the smokes, but.........they were super. Jamie, Allen, and Pauli.

Aimee and I went out for dinner one night with them all, plus Pauli's boyfriend Robert, and then after we went to the Rainbow Center where we saw all sorts of insects and butterflies.

The food at the nightmarkets in Malaysia is awesome. The population of Malaysia is Hindu, Malay and Chinese, so you can find quite a mix of delicacies. This is some of the food at the nightmarket in Tanah Rata.

One day I got invited to visit a tea planation with John, an old Canadian geezer staying at the inn, although he was really only about 52 or so. I think he was drunk because he almost got us killed weaving and then stopping while driving his small scooter on the road. I finally said 'whoa, lemme off this thing, cowboy.' We were close enough to walk to the plantation and we had a tour through the place. Adjacent to the factory loads of people were picking leaves in the rows upon rows of tea plants. I felt sorry for them out there, what a tedious job in the hot sun. By the time the tour was over, John had had a few cups of coffee so we were ready to drive back. John, wherever you are now - 'there's 99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer......' CHEERS!

As it was getting close to Christmas and we were having so much fun, we decided to stay and celebrate the holidays with all the fabulous people we had met that included - Wilhaus from Holland, Sally and Jennifer, and then Paul from Denmark and another Dutch girl who was hitchhiking all over the country. She was inspirational, and I decided to hitch back up to Ipoh to see the Marboro Gang rather than take the bus. There were just too many bus crashes and the driving was insane.

The temperature was dropping and at night it was quite chilly. Aimee and I went shopping for little things for the others, and I went shopping for her. I bought her a little teddy because she'd had to leave her 'serious' teddy at home because I told her she might lose it, and that would have been the end of the world for both of us. Aimee was so excited about Santa and finally on Christmas Eve he appeared.

It was obvious to Aimee that it wasn't really Santa, just a brown substitute, and when she pulled his beard down away from his face, she laughed when she saw it was the son of the owner of the inn. We had great fun that night, the whiskey and the wine and the beer flowed, the food was fantastic and the celebrants all had a good time until the early hours of the morning. I went off to put Aimee to bed and fell asleep, and as a result I missed saying goodbye to Wilhelm. Goodbye Wilhem, wherever you are now!

Death To All Drug Traffickers - Penang, Cameron Highlands

2011-05-12T05:13:00.000-07:00

After the Phi Phi Islands we stayed in Krabi before hopping on an air-conditioned mini-bus for Penang, Malaysia. We were done with Thailand. Aimee managed to make a few more friends while we were in Krabi.

I was struck by the first sign that greets you at the Malaysian border - DEATH for all drug traffickers under Malaysian law. It was quite effective I'd say. I wondered how many people didn't take it seriously.

The first night in Penang we stayed at the Rio Hotel but moved to the New China Hotel. Big mistake. It was huge and our room was massively grand, but in the middle of the night I woke up all itchy and realized that we had bed bugs. I don't know if you've ever experienced bed bugs but it was the first time for me, although I couldn't prove it was bed bugs because every time I turned on the light I couldn't see the little bastards. Nevertheless, I got the concierge out of bed and asked for another room. He was none too pleased at being awoken at three in the morning but neither was I. The next day we moved.

We went into a travel agency and a fellow there asked to go with Aimee and I up to Penang Hill.

We didn't last long in Penang, before leaving for the cool mountains of the Cameron Highlands. On the train ride, Aimee was adopted by this woman. The food was good too.

How To Wrestle A Madwoman - Phi Phi Islands

2011-05-05T02:39:00.000-07:00

Traveling alone with my daughter Aimee was never dull. Little did she know that on our first night in Phi Phi, a yellow and black snake almost five feet long had slithered over her belly as she lay sleeping on her mattress. I had just tucked in beside her and had closed my eyes when I sensed something and sat up. It was dim in the room. My first thought was of the big hairy spider that had leaped out from behind a mirror that afternoon, plopped to the floor and then tore off into Elaine and Gina's room, two British girls we had met in Krabi the day before.

I didn't move as I watched the snake creep across us, eyeballing it as it crawled over my thighs and then over the edge of the bed and off. I gathered up a sheet and bunched it up and threw it over the snake and pushed it out the door. Then I tucked our mosquito netting in properly, let out a big sigh of relief, and went back to sleep. It was a nasty snake, but not as nasty as the snake from the Garden of Eden I was about to meet up with.

The next day Aimee and I moved, enough of the snakes and hairy things. I knocked on the door of a beach house that had a sign planted in the sand out front with an arrow saying 'Thai Massage' and 'Rooms.' A stark-naked blond woman of about sixty with breasts shaped like papayas answered the door. She hauled her breasts out of the way and said 'come in, come in, I'm just a guest here,' as if it were totally normal to nauseate strangers who are seeking a room. 'Don't mind me,' she said. As I stood there garping at her loose flesh, an old fat Thai woman came into the room wiping her hands on a tea towel, who said yes, I could stay there, but I would have to stay in the front room on a double bed because all her rooms were full. Fine by me. 'This is a Christian home,' she informed me. 'I could tell by my reception,' I said. My bed was in a large room surrounded by windows and filled with blankets, pillows, towels, and massage equipment. I still couldn't get my eyes over the Swedish cake marching all over the house naked with just her teeny pair of knickers to cover her nest, her thin skin rippling like a breeze over water. I knew she was completely nuts. How the hell did she get there? And why was she allowed to walk around like that?

I was starting to like the islands. That night Aimee and I went out with Elaine and Gina to a fabulous seafood restaurant, and while we were there I saw the most beautiful Thai woman I had ever seen, a hostess in our restaurant, but as I was marveling on her beauty she started to pick her nose, and with such gusto that I just about heaved into my cold plate of snappers.

Elaine and Gina were drinking Mekong Whiskey and encouraged me to buy a pint even though I'd heard it was the worst rotgut in the world, its main ingredient being formaldehyde. They disagreed, and said they had been drinking it since they had arrived in Thailand with no nasty side effects thus far, so I got some. After finishing dinner and our whiskey we went to the beach and stayed there half the night with some other people we met who had music and tapes and were loads of fun. We swam and talked, and when Aimee was tired, I tucked her into a sleeping bag beside me. A full moon lit up the bay and it was gorgeous beyond belief. We all had a gay old time.

When I finally made it back to the house at 3am with Aimee, the old woman was up and at it and all fired up and shook her fist and gave me grief for having my child out at that time. She went on about herself being a Christian and why wasn't I being a responsible Christian parent, blah, blah, blah and all this crazy shit. I ignored her and went to bed. It was too late to get into it. The first time I'm out past 10pm with my kid and I get flak from this old bag of wind.

The next day I woke up with the worst hangover in my entire life; I felt like my head had been shot off and reattached with pliers. The old Thai woman's son gave me a head massage and I lay down and slept it off. Later on that night, I met up with Gina and Elaine again, but I had a quiet night because my head was still in recovery. I had left Aimee at the house because she wanted to stay there and watch television and everything seemed to be fine, but when I came back at about 9pm the Swedish cake told me that Aimee had been crying for me and that it had totally irritated the old Thai woman. I shrugged and packed up all my gear and tied up my knapsack and then went to bed, but I never got undressed because intuitively I just knew shit was coming down the pike in the morning. What I didn't realize, was just how much shit.

She didn't waste any part of the morning. At 7am, the old Thai woman strode into the living room where I was sleeping with Aimee and started thrashing around the place saying that I had to find another room as Aimee was crying the night before, and I wasn't there, and what kind of Christian was I, and finally, that I didn't deserve to have a child. Whoa. Back off Satan.

I leaped out of bed ready to go and told Aimee to get dressed, we were leaving. The old woman snarled that she wanted her money for the two nights that I had stayed and I snarled back that I was owed the money for having had to put up with her bitchy fat ass for two days. But as I was tying up the laces on my shoes and Aimee was putting on her dress, she came at me with a massage roller that she had picked up, a long, rounded piece of assault weapon that she held over her head as she ran at me like a cracked-out banshee. I grabbed her two wrists as she was about to strike and we wrestled and danced left to right, right to left, and I was struck by how strong the old cow was for her age and how I didn't think I could hold her off for much longer. Aimee started to cry and scream and hung on to the old woman's arm that carried her up off her feet, crying 'don't hurt my Mommy, don't hurt my Mommy.' I was yelling, telling her to back off or I'd kill her, when her son ran into the room and grabbed his mother's arms and twisted them behind her back. He pried the massage mallet out of her hand and tossed it in a corner and hauled the old woman backwards, shouting at her in Thai. He looked at me, 'get out now, just go. Sorry, my mother...'

I was missing one shoe, I had sprained my finger, my hand was cut, and I had a traumatized daughter by the time we finally slammed out the front door, the old woman still yelling from the back of the house, arguing with her son. An audience stood collectively outside their huts watching us limp away, but I was positive they'd seen it all before and I waved to them. The woman was totally mad. She was a Christian.

Put The Fire Out!

2011-04-21T02:32:00.000-07:00

There's nothing worse than losing your child in a block fire.

After our idyllic rest in Petchburi, we were off again. Another 2-1/2 hours south of Petchburi is Hua Hin, and it was a fabulous place. I drank in the warm sea breeze as we made our way into town on a tuk-tuk.

Some people thought I was pretty slack with my daughter's safety, I could read their expressions when I'd be drinking coffee downstairs and she'd come running up to me all out of breath with her friends to tell me she was off again to do something else. Half a dozen times I was asked "you just let her go off like that?" Yes, I do, but if I didn't get a good feeling about the child she'd met (which never happened) it would be no.

In Hua Hin, the kids had to bring her back, and she wasn't allowed on the beach or the main streets, and those were the only rules. But seriously, do these kids look threatening?

Takiak Hill overlooking Hua Hin

One day Aimee was brought to the local school by her friends, maybe she was show and tell. I didn't know where the school was. It was a beautiful morning and I was having my usual coffee and breakfast and reading the newspaper at the Headrock Cafe when suddenly I heard a great commotion and shouting coming from up the street. People were running towards me clutching their belongings and dragging suitcases and wooden waggons and anything else they could carry. They were yelling things in Thai that I couldn't understand and I looked around for somebody who was going to tell me what was going on. I couldn't comprehend it all. Then I saw the smoke, big clouds of smoke quickly rising above the flimsy wooden guesthouses that lined the street. Hidden behind the guesthouses were all the small huts, rooms, and lean-tos that house all the local Thais. As I watched everybody race by me, I wondered where the hell the local school was.

Sirens and horns blared from the two fire trucks that were now snarled up in the narrow streets, desperately trying to navigate through the frantic people and their household gear that was strewn everywhere. Couches, chairs, dishes, bedboards, mirrors, mattresses, clothing, tools, everything that could have been dragged from their houses was now in the street and stacked in large heaps. The fire was growing and people in their panic started throwing water at it with pots and frying pans and buckets, which made about as much sense as bailing out a sinking ship with a cup.

All of a sudden there was a roar from the flames and it looked like a a raging inferno. The flames were licking their burning lips up the dry tinder posts near to our guesthouse. Oh my God. Where's Aimee?

I raced up the stairs two at a time to get my money and passport, then raced back down and into the crowd to find Aimee. I didn't know if she was still at the school or what. Where the hell is the school? I ran around the streets calling her name, panicking, then circled back towards our guesthouse hoping she'd come back there. It seemed like hours that I was racing around trying to find her when all of a sudden I heard Mommy! Mommy! and she ran up behind me with her three little friends and grabbed on to me for dear life, babbling her story of being evacuated from the school and everybody running home, and the fire and wasn't it scary? I grabbed her hand and we went down to the end of the block to the main street and waited with all the others until it was safe to go back in again.

It didn't take that long. The firemen were able to put it out in spite of being so hampered. The charred wood hissed and bubbled and the streets were full of water and smoke and tangled fire hoses when we were finally allowed back there to take some more pictures.

Kudos to the firemen - a catastrophe once more was thwarted.

The Biggest Buddha. Ever. - Petchburi City

2011-04-18T01:45:00.000-07:00

From the train station at Petchburi we got on a local bus filled with half a dozen elderly Thais dozing with their jackets on in the stifling heat. We were going to the Chom Klow Hotel, one of the few hotels in town. We asked two old-timers if they were familiar with the Chom Klow Hotel and they looked at each other and then back at us with blank stares. We asked a few others and they gave us the same blank stare so I wondered what was wrong with these people that they didn't even know the location of one of the only hotels in town. Petchburi City is not very big. Suddenly, an old man leaning over his cane at the front of the bus spat out Chom Klow and they all started laughing. Yes, yes, that's it, they said, all suddenly coming to life and nodding their heads. Hey, that's what I've been saying dude! Didn't I? But I'd obviously been using the wrong inflection. Aimee and I laughed and we all felt the good vibes and they cheerfully pointed out the hotel as the bus drove by it.

The Chom Klow Hotel was a scarred and faded five-storey block of cement located beside a muddy river that meandererd through the city. A bridge heavy with traffic and noise crossed nearby. Our room in the back overlooked the water, and after wondering how many mosquitoes would be paying us a visit that night to suck our tired blood, I dumped my bags down and collapsed on the lumpy bed. The fan croaked and groaned as it listlessly turned, doing nothing to dispel the steamy heat.

The first thing my daughter wanted to do was to go to a store and get some chips. I gave her a little money and she was off. Five minutes later I panicked and shot up off my bed and ran out of the hotel and up the street, searching everywhere. How could I let her go off like that? Where is she? What was I thinking? I couldn't believe that we hadn't gone through our hotel name, address, and getting a taxi routine.

I was totally starting to panic scanning the streets and sidewalks and shops when I heard a faint voice through the traffic. "Mom! Mommy! Over here!" I swung around and a redhead in an orange Thai dress stood there waving to me from across the street. Oh my god! I ran over to her, relieved.

We strolled around the town that night. Very near our hotel was a busy night market, filled with a smorgasbord of spicy Thai food. We gorged on all kinds of wonderful things while people turned and stared at us, sometimes reaching out to stroke my daughter's red hair.

An older gentleman around 50 years old approached us, and in perfect English he told me he was a retired school teacher and that he had lived in Petchburi his entire life. He would be glad to show us many interesting sites if I so desired. We chatted for a while and we strolled around the market before agreeing to meet the next morning at 8:30.

When Aimee and I went downstairs the next morning, Chumpion was waiting outside in his black 1950 Austin. It was an incredible old car to go touring around in and we had a great time bouncing over all the pot-holed roads to the caves and temples on the outskirts of town. We went to one of the four largest reclining buddhas in Thailand and when I say large, I mean massive. This great photo of a reclining Buddha gives you more of an idea of the vast size of these sculptures.

Here's a reclining buddha, although not the same size.

After visiting another cave and viewing some ancient artefacts, Chumpion took us to a floating library which was over 500 years old. It was just a simple wooden structure standing on stilts in a small pond. Then he took us to his home where we drank tea and ate pie and home-made biscuits. He told stories about Petchburi, Thailand's King, and his own life. He never married and his mother had recently died. I was so thankful for his generosity in taking us around to the caves and temples and then finally to his house, because we never would have seen what we did without him.

Remember what you have seen, because everything forgotten returns to the circling winds. Navejo Wind Chant

Kudos and good health to you Chumpion, wherever you are!

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When we were over our food poisoning from Koh Samet island, my 8-year-old daughter and I got on a local train in Bangkok that was headed south, but after a few hours on the train it was time to get off because Petchburi City looked okay from the window. I discovered later that most travellers don't stay in Petchburi, they either make it a day trip or just bypass it altogether. These are the kinds of places I love to discover.

Koh Samet, Thailand

2011-04-16T10:29:00.001-07:00

Women travelling solo, or women travelling with children, whatever you choose to do, will have a great time on the island of Samet. It's small, the beach is fantastic, and it's not too far from Bangkok. It's laid-back, at least it was when I was there with my daughter.

Before our arrival, a fellow had been carted off with malaria, and there are bag loads of mosquitoes at night, so bring repellent. There is very little threat of malaria in Thailand; however, it pays to be cautious. I decided that we wouldn't take malaria pills because I would be travelling for nine months, and one of the instructions for taking them is to stay out of the sun. Duh. Sun. Thailand. I figured I'd probably be sicker taking them than not. I slathered my daughter in mosquito repellent at night and kept her covered up, and we minimized our time outside. Other than that, we were fine.

On the bus to Koh Samet we took in some of the devastation from the typhoon. It was extensive, as you can see. All the trees were knocked down or heavily damaged.

I was really in the mood for swimming after being in Bangkok because it's just SO HOT in the city. This was November, the perfect time to visit because there were so few tourists. Here are some of the friends that my daughter Aimee made while she was there. Students from Korea. I wound up doing everybody's hair.

Swimming - it was a wonderful beach.

The bathing beauties on the beach

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Monkeys were everywhere and although they're sexy, stay away from them! These guys ran off with everything.

Aimee making more friends.

Breakfast on Koh Samet

While we were on Koh Samet we celebrated Wan Loi Krathong, a festival where everybody sets out home- made floats on to the water to celebrate and worship the water gods. It was quite something to see all the lights from the little floats flickering on the water. Later there were fireworks. Friends Taj and Rita from Oregon were with us watching the fireworks haphazardly set off, missiles that streaked off in any old direction. I thought they would eventually land on the thatched roofs on the huts that lined the beach when sure enough, we followed one through the air right to the roof of a thatched hut. It caught fire and flames started to shoot up. Taj ran like a cheetah over to the hut, climbed up the side and heroically put it out. He was the star that night. It was fun. We all sang songs on the beach and had a huge fire.

We also went snorkelling with Taj and Camille, a woman we met from Sweden.

When it was time to bid adios to the Korean students at six in the morning, Aimee ran out in her nightgown to kiss them all good-bye. Sometimes she used to cry after people left, and I had to tell her that that was what happened when you travelled - you meet people, you have fun with them, and then you have to say good-bye, because everybody has to go home at some point and we all live in different places. It didn't make it any easier for her, she got so attached to some people.

Blue and Bluer in Bangkok - Travelling with Children

2011-04-15T09:43:00.000-07:00

It's never easy traveling with children, it's a big responsibility because you want them to stay safe and stay healthy. It was well worth traveling with my 8-year-old daughter though because she had so many great experiences, and I met so many people on account of her. She was shy when we left and I returned home nine months later with an outgoing little kid. The trip changed her personality as she received so much attention.

It was a l-o-o-o-ng flight over - Vancouver to L.A.; L.A. to Seoul; Seoul to Bangkok - we were exhausted and jet-lagged when we arrived. Our first night there we shared a cab with two other young women and we took the first hotel he brought us to. Everything in the place was blue - blue rugs, blue curtains, blue sheets, blue bedspreads, blue towels - and when my daughter woke up in the middle of the night whimpering 'I want to go home, Mommy,' I felt blue, too. Suddenly I had second thoughts about taking her out of school for the year and packing up and just leaving. How would it all turn out? I don't know about traveling for months with babies, but 8-year-olds are a lot of fun.

Unfortunately, and I didn't know it at the time because I never do any preparation for trips, Thailand had just experienced a devastating typhoon, and travel south would be suspended for at least a week. So we visited the sites in Bangkok, visited some relatives, and then went to Koh Samet island, which turned out to be brilliant. Thailand was a cultural shock away from our little town in Canada.

First stop was the magnificent Grand Palace, which I don't have too many shots of unfortunately. Ah, the days before digital cameras! This linked website also has a long list of other cool things to see in Bangkok.

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A Crippled Dog in Taiwan

2011-03-11T19:48:00.000-08:00

Aren't these the cutest? These are little piglets that I saw when I was on my way to Kaoshiung with my daughter. Not that I'm going to talk about pigs......

I'm going to talk about the dogs. In some countries, like Vietnam, they still eat dogs. Or China. I saw some dogs being carved up and others splayed out as if on a gynecological bed when I was in Vietnam, and it wasn't attractive.

In Taiwan, I don't believe they're still eating doggy snacks before bedtime, but it was whispered in some quarters that you might want to check out the meat before dining out. Whether they're still chowing down or not, the treatment of animals in Taiwan really was appalling. I saw so many dogs left all day in tiny cages, or cages that were filthy. One of my neighbors tied up their dog to a clothes pole in the burning heat and went away for a few days and the dog died. When I went to the police station about it, they shrugged. It was only a dog, and they wouldn't leave the station for a dog.

Here's something else I saw when I went to sing karaoke at a woman's house in the suburbs of Tainan City.

I drove over to a spectacular home in Tainan City with a woman whose son was one of my students. We were going to sing karaoke and drink tea at her friend's home. After parking in front of an enormous house, a tiny woman with a waist the circumference of a ballpoint pen and a lacquered bouffant straight out of The Bride of Frankenstein opened a garage door and came out to greet us. Walking behind her, I was struck by the size of her garage, and, an oddity for Taiwan, how empty of useless crap it was. A retractable-gear Beech Sierra Musketeer with a thirty-two foot wingspan and brushed aluminum air vents could have fit in that enormous space.

However, as we continued through the garage, I noticed a medium-sized, black dog lying in a steel cage in a corner. He was all alone in a cage that would have been more appropriate for restraining a manic grizzly bear on crystal meth than this defenseless lump of fur. I wanted to pet him but he never stirred, nor wagged his tail. Only his sad, brown eyes followed me, peering out behind his bushy eyebrows.

His cage had steel bars at least three inches round, and the bottom had a poopee drop-down zone where his business fell through the bars and was whisked away through a drainage pipe linked to the sewer. There was nothing in the cage. The dog lethargically stood up when he realized I wasn't leaving right away, but I could see that any hope of ever being released from his prison had been extinguished long ago.

It was her son's dog, her son who was now in America. I stooped to pet him through the bars, and asked if we could bring him in the house with us, but the two women laughed and waved away the absurdity of my request and ushered me into the house.

I didn't say anything, nor did I protest, because the Taiwanese mind is as thick as Swartzenegger's dick at a New York City summer swimsuit show when it comes to the doggy issue. But while I was picking out tunes to sing, and as my ears shrank listening to my friend screech over the ear-shattering decibels of the speakers, my mind kept wandering back to that poor lump of fur left alone all day in his cage.

After two hours of torture listening to excruciatingly bad Chinese pop music sung badly, I wanted to go, but the bouffant wanted to give us a tour of her house before we left.

It was impressive. Each room was artfully designed and furnished with expensive rugs, lamps and antiques, and enough exotic booze bottles filled ceiling-to-floor cabinets in the living room that she could have opened a liquor store in three districts. The kitchen was filled with brand new appliances which had never been used, while her bedroom was fitted with a clothes closet bigger than a concentration camp changing room, and with just as many shoes, hats, dresses and empty suitcases. After we stepped off the elevator and back into the garage, she begged us to stay longer, upon which my friend whispered in English to me that she was lonely wandering around this large house by herself, and craved company during the day as her husband was frequently out of town and her kids were in America.

We declined and set off, but as she stood waving goodbye, so tiny within her vast, empty space, I felt regret at not having persuaded her to release that poor lump of fur in her garage that was dying for want of contact, and let him keep her company.

Koashiung

2011-03-07T22:56:00.001-08:00

Koashiung is the big southern city in Taiwan. It's only half an hour's drive from Tainan but it's huge, the industrial port. It has the most beautiful airport I've ever seen anywhere, almost luxurious. It has fabulous temples and tons of things to do, but as for living, I'd pick Tainan over Kaoshiung.

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SOUNDBITES

News is sensationalistic in Taiwan. Reporters get in everybody's face, even storming into hospitals for close-ups of people dying in their beds, ignoring a victim's pain and suffering for a good closeup of the death throes, and the longer the better. It's unbelievable for a westerner to see how even more intrusive the media is over here. One time, a famous Taiwanese actor's son was having a mental breakdown and they filmed the actor moaning and weeping and nodding over his lethargic, spaced-out son lying in his hospital bed. It was surreal. Dude! Go home!

Another tragic news item in Taiwan which created a lot of scandal was about a drunken father who dashed the head of his 4-year-old daughter into a wall outside a 7/11 when he was drunk. It was one o'clock in the morning. (Men usually get custody of their children here.) She wanted to go home and he got angry and threw her into the wall, resulting in serious injury to the child. A stranger called 9/11.

The police arrested the father at the scene and the little girl was brought by ambulance to the hospital. However, a neurosurgeon at one hospital had just gone to sleep and refused to see her, and no other hospital in Taipei would admit her, evidently because the father was poor and had no medical insurance. She was then taken by ambulance to Taichung, another city six hours away, but by then the delay was fatal and the little girl fell into an irreversible coma.

The country was outraged by the actions of the hospitals, politicians and their reputations were at stake, two doctors in a Taipei hospital lied about having treated her and reports were faked, and now the little girl was on the brink of death. The father was sent to jail for an indeterminate amount of time, two doctors went to jail for five years, and the Mayor fired the Health Director for Taipei. She was taken off the respirator after she was declared brain dead and her kidneys and liver were donated by her mother.

The sad thing about this saga, besides the event itself, was that during the reporting and coverage of the story, the hospital staff couldn’t bring the little girl from one room of the hospital to another without facing an explosion of flashbulbs from the cameras and tripods set up all throughout the hospital. Reporters were shouting and screaming as they scrambled around the bed carrying the girl. It was a madhouse.

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A car accident occurred somewhere around Taichung, a big city north of Tainan. A young man of 19 was driving and hit another car. In the other car were a woman and a maid, who was holding a baby. The baby died because it was thrown against the dashboard and crushed. It was not in a restraint. It also turned out the woman driving had been drinking.

The father of the baby (who was evidently in the Taiwanese mafia) went to the hospital with a few of his thug friends and beat the stuffing out of the 19-year-old kid while he was lying in his hospital bed recovering from his injuries. His mother was there and she spurred them on, saying that he needed a good thrashing for what he’d done.

Unfortunately, the young man died of his injuries from the beating and the police went on a search for the killers. They all went missing. Everyone was outraged that he died in such a way in a hospital, and that his mother would actually encourage their actions. In the end, the mother got blamed for the death of her son.

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Accidents are a murky affair, best to be avoided. And be careful walking down the street.

If a pedestrian is hit by a scooter and the scooter races off, no other individuals will touch the victim lying on the ground because the victim could raise his head, look at you, and say "that's the guy that hit me." You're screwed and everyone will blame you for the accident. It has happened.

Truck drivers on the highway sometimes run back over somebody they've hit in order to kill them. Better dead than in the hospital because dead people can't talk or demand money. People make private money deals here when involved in accidents. A man in one of my classes told me he had to pay $450,000 NT dollars to a family because his son-in-law had a scooter accident with an old man and the old man died two weeks later. The relatives of the dead man said he died as a result of the accident, but the old fart had high blood pressure to begin with. Nevertheless, my student would be paying and paying for a long time to come.