Oriental Tales Magazine features a diverse online collection of travel tales about Asia and short stories focusing on the Orient. http://www.orientaltales.com Oriental Tales Magazine features a diverse online collection of travel tales about Asia and short stories focusing on the Orient. http://www.orientaltales.com http://www.orientaltales.com View Oriental Tales Magazine's collection of travel photography from East Asia. http://www.orientaltales.com/photography/index.html http://www.orientaltales.com/photography/index.html Submit your travel stories to Oriental Tales Magazine! http://www.orientaltales.com/guidelines.html http://www.orientaltales.com/guidelines.html Submit your travel photography to Oriental Tales Magazine! http://www.orientaltales.com/photo_guidelines.html http://www.orientaltales.com/photo_guidelines.html View who has contributed their travel stories and photography to Oriental Tales Magazine. http://www.orientaltales.com/contributors.html http://www.orientaltales.com/contributors.html This issue of Oriental Tales Magazine features short travel stories from South Korea, Taiwan, Indonesia, China and Cambodia. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/011/index.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/011/index.html By early evening I was standing under a shop's awning in the town of Toksan in the pouring rain, trying to figure out where to spend the night, and how to avoid being drenched to the skin. I had my tent in my backpack and would prefer to camp to save money, since all I wanted was to sleep, but it really was pouring down. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/011/page02.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/011/page02.html It is midnight in downtown Taipei, but the Night Market is wide awake. Vendors in minuscule outdoor booths call out in Mandarin and English, enticing me with their glittering jewelry, boom boxes, and lady's lingerie. Hungry shoppers eye whole chicken heads and squid tentacles sizzling on blackened grills. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/011/page03.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/011/page03.html At the Loseman El Amin on the island of Flores, I met a tall, craggy Dutch man, slightly stooped with hooded reptilian eyes. 'Boodiman'- as the locals called him - was an amiable old gent, who spoke fluent bahasa malay (Indonesian) having spent much of his youth in the region of Nusa Tenggara. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/011/page04.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/011/page04.html In some ways Duolun is a typical Chinese city of the north. Clusters of old men in dark blue casual suits sit around basking in the sun. The younger men stand on the main streets with their carts, waiting for work to come along. Meanwhile, in front of the bus station the sidewalk pool tables are abuzz with chatter. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/011/page05.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/011/page05.html "SOM CHO BEIE JOUR!" My message is attempting to tell everybody to please make two lines. The limits of my Khmer are obvious to everybody in earshot, but even in a time of crisis, I am still able to obtain laughter from those who seek another type of medicine. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/011/page06.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/011/page06.html Have you ever looked for an alternative to crowded, overpriced tourist locations and wanted to see the true culture of a place in a short period of time? Do you look for adventure and are curious to meet friendly people from a host country? Well, if you answered yes to all of these, then come with me on a walk. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/011/page07.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/011/page07.html Siem Reap, Cambodia is unique. That I can say. The city (more of a town really) is divided by the Siem Reap River, which eventually leads to Tonie Sap Lake - a lake that is populated by locals who have constructed a floating village complete with farms, schools, houses and restaurants. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/011/page08.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/011/page08.html This issue of Oriental Tales Magazine features short travel stories from Thailand, Laos, Indonesia, South Korea, Vietnam and Taiwan. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/010/index.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/010/index.html December 26th 2004 - a now infamous date that many people will remember as a day when one of biggest natural disasters in modern history hit South-East Asia. A tsunami caused by an Indian Ocean earthquake surged around the region killing an estimated 225,000 people in eleven countries. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/010/page02.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/010/page02.html Cycling is fun in Southeast Asia; it has become a way of life for me. I can't even imagine a trip without my bike. I have had many adventures and lots of great experiences. There are so many new things to see and learn from. This story is just a glimpse of what I have done, how I have felt; and where I have gone. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/010/page03.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/010/page03.html Deep in the jungles of Tana Toraja, Indonesia, a Banyan tree serves as a grave for babies who died before they reached six months of age. The passieeiran, literally "baby grave in the living tree" was part of a circle starting with a comfort for grieving parents and ending with a transition from death into new life. This is a fictionalized account of the first baby to become one with the living tree. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/010/page04.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/010/page04.html I stretch my sunburned arms out before me and ease back on the throttle. The engine hums hypnotically in the vastness of the mountains and swaying emerald fields that surround me. How is it possible that only hours ago I was fighting to hear my own voice over a sea of noisy kids? http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/010/page05.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/010/page05.html A leathery man of unknown age with a cigarette dangling from his mouth checks his fishing nets and stops to stare at a boat puttering past. Ramshackle houses line the riverbank, where women busy themselves cooking or washing and children scamper up and down. Everything looks exactly as I imagined it. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/010/page06.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/010/page06.html Two most gratifying things I often find during my journeys are the local people and their original dishes. Beautiful places stand out for themselves, for sure, but for those not-so-splendidly-scenic, it is exactly these two things that make a trip there both worthwhile and timelessly haunting. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/010/page07.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/010/page07.html Have you heard the one about the blinged-up gangster, the guy who wears baggy jeans that hang closer to his ankles than his waist, who has gold medallions that would make Mr. T's neck ache, and who goes shopping with his mother? Unfortunately it's not a gag. Our hero lives in Hualian, a small town on TaiwanÕs difficult-to-reach east coast, so perhaps it's forgivable that some of the rules of street cred get lost or re-interpreted. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/010/page08.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/010/page08.html This issue of Oriental Tales Magazine features short travel stories from Thailand, China, Tibet, Laos and Myanmar. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/009/index.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/009/index.html In my fantasy, I am Keeper of the Royal Elephants for his Majesty, The King of Thailand. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/009/page02.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/009/page02.html The most unusual things are not unusual in China. Living here, you kind of get used to that constant feeling of; "What on earth is going on here!" in the back of your mind. You even learn to disregard it most of the time. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/009/page03.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/009/page03.html Five hours north of Chang Mai in Northern Thailand on the Mekong River, bordering Laos, is Chang Kong. This is the Golden Triangle which, in its heyday, was the black market capital of opium production. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/009/page04.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/009/page04.html My leather Mary Jane shoes are easy to slip on and off. The thick rubber soles perfect for hiking and traveling on hard sleeper trains around China. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/009/page05.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/009/page05.html I had not expected getting on an elephant to be so difficult. My two friends had mounted and were riding off professionally into the distance. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/009/page06.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/009/page06.html The news was shocking. The ticket agent at the Shangri-la bus terminal in Zhongdian, Yunnan province was happy to tell me over and over, in both Chinese and English, that yes, foreigners can now travel east through the Tibet Autonomous Region to Lhasa... http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/009/page07.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/009/page07.html I took a peek through the morning clouds down at Mandalay as we were about to land. This city, the second largest in Myanmar and made famous by Kipling's poem of the same name, looked disappointingly barren and abandoned from the air. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/009/page08.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/009/page08.html This issue of Oriental Tales Magazine features short travel stories from Vietnam, Laos, Indonesia and South Korea. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/008/index.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/008/index.html If it's a Golden-Maned Langur - found only on Cat Ba Island, off the coast of North Vietnam, a few hours' drive from Hanoi - the answer is, about a hundred bucks. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/008/page02.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/008/page02.html You know the old saying; "There's more than meets the eye"? Well, for Laos, this rings so true. The World Bank rated Lao PDR the poorest and least developed among all the Indochinese countries. Laotians even earn 20% less than the struggling Cambodians! Geographically, Lao is landlocked save for the Mekong River. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/008/page03.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/008/page03.html The pale-green water lies dead in the mountain hole, Looking for a way out, a lower state To flow into, but be it far and be it near, The water's surrounded, from departing denied. In this giant pit, amidst hordes of rock, The rain accumulates. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/008/page04.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/008/page04.html The players meet in a small circular ring with a sand covered floor. They wear bicycle shorts with a satba, a thick strong belt wrapped around their waist and right thigh. The players start kneeling on the floor, facing one another. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/008/page05.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/008/page05.html In the summer of 1984, after graduating the Missouri Journalism School, I was invited to work as chief copy editor for Yonhap News Agency's International Desk in Seoul. I arrived that August and spent nine months there during my first Korean sojourn. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/008/page06.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/008/page06.html It's been eight hours. We've covered twelve kilometres ascending over 1400 metres. We've crossed from Lombok's grassy plains into the cemara forests of Rinjani's slopes. Eight sweaty gruelling hours uphill. It's only day one. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/008/page07.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/008/page07.html "This passport photo, it is not good." It isn't good. I had glandular fever that day, and my eyes were glassy, my hair a wild dark nest. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/008/page08.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/008/page08.html This issue of Oriental Tales Magazine features short travel stories from The Philippines, Cambodia, Japan, Vietnam, and Thailand. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/007/index.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/007/index.html It was a typical summer day; the outpouring sun seemed to fill the surroundings with life and energy as I continued my travel through the Philippine countryside. The tropical heat dissipated as the breeze flowed through the open-sided jeepney, only to be felt during occasional lulls when a passenger stop or pick-up was called for. The chatter inside and the bustle outside, along with the smells of animals and exotic foods strengthened as we approached the town market. The stirring buzz of the market seemed to abate as quickly as it began as the jeepney creaked and rattled along the semi-dirt road towards the rural areas of the region. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/007/page02.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/007/page02.html Cambodia: the name alone evokes an array of images. Our largely American entourage had many notions of what to expect ? a vague familiarity with its past struggles, nightmarish visions of Pol Pot and his murderous Khmer Rouge regime, Dith Pran's Killing Fields, piles of skulls, suffering and poverty. We saw the aftermath of this... and more. As a parade of temples, villages, people and experiences were presented to us in the coming days, we were all left dazed by the compelling dichotomy of Cambodia. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/007/page03.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/007/page03.html After months of scraping by teaching English in Thailand, I finally decided to follow the advice of my fellow travelers and head to where the money was - Japan. Some people preferred to arrange their jobs and interviews in advance but, being an impulsive kind of traveler, I just jumped on a plane and went. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/007/page04.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/007/page04.html Words like "dangerous", "dilapidated", and "depressing" tend to creep into most descriptions of Phnom Penh, the much maligned capital of Cambodia. Almost 30 years of brutal civil war and political turmoil have left this former jewel of French Indochina with both physical and psychological scars. But like all survivors, Phnom Penh has a message to share and a lesson to teach to all travelers who stay long enough to listen. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/007/page05.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/007/page05.html His hands are spotted and old; on the left hand a large wound is covered by a puff of bloody cotton and a piece of clear tape. These are the hands of Do Kha, a 77-year-old bamboo coracle builder who lives on Cam Kim Island in Vietnam. He is small in stature, with a look of frailty about him that disappears when he sits cross-legged on the ground to cut strips of bamboo and begins a new boat. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/007/page06.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/007/page06.html One of the smallest ethnic minorities in Asia, The Sea Gypsies were virtually unknown by the outside world until the 2004 Tsunami ravaged South East Asia. One of the most amazing stories reported by the international press was that not one of the Sea Gypsies died. Having lived in close communion with the sea for centuries, the Sea gypsies knew well in advance when the Tsunami would hit and they all took refuge in the mountains. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/007/page07.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/007/page07.html Something of an enigma to the uninitiated, Japan was no less of a mystery to me despite this being my third visit. It felt more like my first, since my previous visits were made when I was less than seven years old. This time I was old enough to appreciate the history and culture of my mother's country, but also, as an adult, I felt acutely aware of how little I knew about my roots. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/007/page08.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/007/page08.html This issue of Oriental Tales Magazine features short travel stories from South Korea, Vietnam, Tibet, and Hong Kong. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/006/index.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/006/index.html It's winter in Korea, and the rich, hazy green of summer is a distant, luscious memory. Hayley and I shiver in our classrooms, our students wrapped up in bright, loud fluffy hats and jackets, their raucous energy only briefly dampened by the cold. As nine of them leap over chairs and tables in the tiny room, I sit stiffly, my knees burning from the useless fan heater. I wish my students would keel over and drop to the floor, frozen solid like a row of brightly coloured Popsicles. I croak a half-hearted "choyangeeay!" But it's futile, and the noise and screams continue. They're meant to be taking a test. I huddle into my heater and think darkly of the hours I wasted frolicking in the sun a few months ago. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/006/page02.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/006/page02.html A thrill-seeking Vietnamese sprite on the back of my rusty one-speed bike clings to the rack and squeals gleefully as we roar down the pot-holed road. My friend Eric parks his bike and sings a Red Hot Chili Peppers' song to three young Vietnamese girls while they laugh uncontrollably at the funny white guy with sweat stains on his back; even with the monsoons, seething temperatures turn all travelers into fountains. The full moon is suspended in the sky over Hue and illuminates dozens of houseboats lined up on the river. I can see the flicker of TVs aglow, families relaxing after a day in the fields - a woman rocks her baby in a makeshift hammock, a hypnotic motion. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/006/page03.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/006/page03.html Sometimes, things that aren't supposed to happen just do. My brush with the unexpected began in June of 1997 when the Army sent me to Korea for a one year tour. I'm now in the third year of that "one year" assignment and having the most remarkable tour of my career - training elephants instead of soldiers. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/006/page04.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/006/page04.html We woke up at 3:45am, walking out into the clear night, stars bewitchingly bright and unhindered by city lights. There were cottony wisps of clouds floating in-between the night sky and land, somehow neither here nor there. The moon was a thin crescent, but brilliant, turning the waves silver as they curled and broke neatly on the beach. Isaac and I sat down facing the water to await the appearance of a fisherman who he had befriended. There were already some men on the beach gathered around a pile of embers glowing red in the night, a pinpoint on the dark beach. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/006/page05.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/006/page05.html Good evening and I hope that your sky at dusk may be a beautiful as Ladakh. I write to you from Leh, capital of the Himalayan province of Ladakh, where I've just returned from the Nubra Valley, near Pakistan, part of the famous 'silk route'. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/006/page06.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/006/page06.html A recent sojourn to beautiful, scarred Vietnam; my first visit to a third world country, was a profoundly eye opening experience as well as a steep learning curve ? not only did I gain knowledge of the history and culture of Vietnam, but more so I learned about the wicked ways of the West and the nature of happiness. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/006/page07.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/006/page07.html Prior to arriving in Hong Kong, I was expecting hustle, bustle and the kind of traffic-induced pollution so often found in South-East Asian cities; something similar perhaps to the sense contorting metropolis of Bangkok, where you will get touted and shouted at around every aroma-filled corner. I anticipated anxiety and confusion; those feelings that so often come hand in hand with visiting an unfamiliar country - the very definition of culture shock itself. However, it was almost immediately clear that this place was different. It wasn't due to a lack of crowds or traffic though - it just, well, it felt like home. Now, I've traveled around quite a bit and it's rare that I don't feel any kind of disorientation when visiting an Asian city. But what was one of the first things I saw upon my arrival? Double-decker buses! http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/006/page08.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/006/page08.html This issue of Oriental Tales Magazine features short travel stories from Tibet, Malaysia, South Korea, Cambodia, Vietnam and Indonesia. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/005/index.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/005/index.html I went to heaven... but I am alive. Does that sound ambiguous? Mount Kailash located in Tibet is the gateway to paradise. Every year pilgrims travel to attain oneness with God and hope to end their cycle of rebirth. Its religious significance is strongly believed in Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism and in the Bora faith. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/005/page02.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/005/page02.html Dee extolled the virtues of tomorrow's walk to the five of us huddled around the table. "You'll want to make sure everything's sealed so it doesn't get wet when you're pushing the boat." The fun didn't end there. The boat ride would end in an 8km slog through a leech-infested jungle. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/005/page03.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/005/page03.html The truth is I didn't know the first thing about South Korea. I'd had one of my mad impulses again and decided to jet off by ferry to the port city of Pusan, or Busan as it's also known, with a friend of mine while on a two week trip around Japan. Thus we arrived with no information, no hotel booking, no map or even the slightest grasp of Korean. One day I will learn my lesson and simply buy a guidebook to every country surrounding the one I'm actually going to, as I'm always prone to these spur of the moment dashes. Still, arriving without a guidebook can be an adventure in itself and not always a bad idea. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/005/page04.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/005/page04.html "How much to cross over to Strung Strang?" I asked the Cambodian man. "Fifty dollars," he quickly replied. "Fifty dollars? That's way too much. How about thirty for both of us?" I had met Esther, a young Israeli girl, on Don Det, an island in the Four Thousand Islands region south of Laos. She was traveling with a group of Israelis through Asia. We were going to travel together through Cambodia. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/005/page05.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/005/page05.html We were wrong to think that border towns blend or that the line between two countries blurs with the green between them. The line is distinct and the change is palpable. Crossing from Laos to Vietnam we may as well have changed continents. The pace notched up along with the infrastructure and suddenly our relaxed senses were snapped awake. When the bus we were on pulled over in a rice paddy between towns, 30 km from Vinh, I was instantly aware of the struggle we were in for. The bus driver demands more cash. We refuse. He chucks our bags onto the asphalt and orders us off. Half an hour later we are hoarse, sweating, flushed and fuming; but back on the way to Vinh for the original price. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/005/page06.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/005/page06.html "You don't want to go down that way," said the man. He was an older gentleman, with a burly Hemingway aura to him, but with a faint European accent. Swedish maybe? Beside him was a nervous-looking woman, who kept looking over my shoulders, at a distant patch of mangrove trees. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/005/page07.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/005/page07.html After a while, you just learn to block it out. "Hello! Looking? Yes?" Walking along any tourist region on the Indonesian island of Bali, you are likely to be touted and hustled. Merchants stand in the entrance of their shops, desperate to get you inside. Drivers are even worse - sometimes they'll follow you up the street as you walk... http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/005/page08.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/005/page08.html This issue of Oriental Tales Magazine features short travel stories from China, Myanmar, Indonesia, and Japan. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/004/index.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/004/index.html The aroma of unfamiliar vegetables and meat grilled on an open flame, cesspools that haven't been cleaned, fish dried, salted and hung for sale, wrestle to dominate the scent in the air. In the distance I hear the rambling sound of an approaching train, the muffled voices of children speaking a foreign tongue, I see aging men practicing ancient traditions, the faces of youth and all their ambitions. I close my eyes, a prolonged moment? I open them again. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/004/page02.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/004/page02.html It simply couldn't be done. That's what every travel agent in Bangkok told us. It just wasn't possible to travel overland into Myanmar from Sangkhlaburi in western Thailand. We were going to have to book expensive flights from Bangkok to the capital, Yangon with a specialist travel agent who would arrange our visas and we'd have to part with $100 a day to be able to pay a visit. Never mind the fact that this was way over our budget, my friend and I also had no particular desire to pay cold, hard cash straight into the pockets of one of the world's most notorious military regimes. Instead we decided to risk it and make our own way up to the border town of Sangkhlaburi to see if we could make the crossing - despite the warnings. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/004/page03.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/004/page03.html A small village, Cemoro Lawang, graces a small slope and overlooks Bromo, Mount Semeru at a distance, Mount Batok and Mount Pananjakan. The people who reside here are predominantly Hindu, small offerings left on the ground reminiscent of Bali. Life here follows a relaxed pace, some hotels and tour companies comprise the larger buildings and a few shops selling hats, scarves, gloves and basic necessities. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/004/page04.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/004/page04.html Through the flooding crowd and their loud babbles, I work my way to the bridge. Its sides are bedecked with huge banners and colorful lamps. At the end of the narrow walkway that leads from the bridge is Tay Kak Sie, one of the oldest Confucian temples in Semarang; gladly welcoming its visitors that come by in the thousands. This, I think, is far too festive an evening to be brushed off as a common one. The 600th year of China's admiral Zheng He's voyage to Asia, is all this hysteria, this majestic celebration, is about. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/004/page05.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/004/page05.html To visit Tibet, a Buddhist kingdom shrouded in mystique and political turmoil; a rugged landscape that is secluded in the mountain fortress of the Himalayas, has always been one of my ultimate travel destinations. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/004/page06.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/004/page06.html Before I left for China I envisioned myself easily adjusting to a new culture and confidently imparting knowledge to the university students I would be teaching. After spending three months there, I left with a totally different perspective; one that grew out of my first opportunity to be not just a tourist, but a participant in a different culture. My previous view of China had not included the people; it had focused on the place. But after leaving China, I had a new vision of both China and myself, and I was certainly more impressed with the people of China than I was with myself. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/004/page07.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/004/page07.html As countries around the world are kicking off the Chinese lunar new year with fireworks and parades, Nagasaki begins the Year of the Dog by flicking on 15,000 lights. From January 29th until February 12th, Nagasaki's Chinatown is illuminated nightly with thousands of dazzling paper lanterns for the Nagasaki Lantern Festival. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/004/page08.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/004/page08.html This issue of Oriental Tales Magazine features short travel stories from Indonesia, Thailand, Japan, Hong Kong, Cambodia, and Vietnam. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/003/index.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/003/index.html Princess Mandalika was distressed, her heart heavy and weary. At the arena, all the princes that came to woo her had shown their ability in archery so brilliantly. And as Mandalika's father, King Kuripan had stated before: whoever shoots perfectly would win her daughter's famed beauty. But since nobody would give up, they began to kill each other. Never had Princess Mandalika thought that her beauty would eventually become the cause of the massacre in her father's court. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/003/page02.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/003/page02.html My assignment as a microwave radio repairman at Camp Warin Thailand in 1965 had two great perks; work in air-conditioned trailers and scheduled time off. Time off gave me an opportunity to experience the local scene and explore the countryside. I worked closely with an American civilian, Ryan Laughlin, who worked at Camp Warin. He had everything I didn't - money, girls, houses in town and motorcycles, all beautiful concepts to a twenty-year old without any. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/003/page03.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/003/page03.html Where the train bends around the rice paddies, I can hear it. The mountains stand at a distance, framed by the cherry trees and the voices of children are urgent. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/003/page04.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/003/page04.html The recent bird-flu epidemic that swept across Asia has made me all sentimental about travel in the region. In 2003 I flew from Japan to Hong Kong at the height of SARS hysteria. It was Spring Break and my girlfriend and I needed a cheap getaway. Being a global citizen, it would have been poor form to reschedule on account of CNN warnings. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/003/page05.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/003/page05.html In Phnom Penh, taxis were scarce and reserved for luggage-laden rides to the airport or day trips to far-flung sites, making the ubiquitous moto, the local Frenchified slang for motorcycle, the vehicle of choice for short runs around the city. Upon seeing a bumbling foreigner on a street, anyone driving a moto could suddenly transform himself into a purveyor of public transport. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/003/page06.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/003/page06.html "You buy something?" "Cheap, cheap!" "What you want?" Thus, the well-practiced cries of Vietnamese vendors to wary white foreigners, where language barriers on both sides halt any further hope of conversation. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/003/page07.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/003/page07.html Through the unsettling cloudy haze, I saw an alignment of charred trees and was grateful for the greener more vibrant vegetation near our base camp. My leg was wounded but not seriously, so I could still walk, despite the throbbing pain emanating from both of my callused feet. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/003/page08.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/003/page08.html This issue of Oriental Tales Magazine features short travel stories from Thailand, South Korea, Japan, and Vietnam. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/002/index.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/002/index.html The midday show is about to begin at this hole-in-the-wall snake farm in Chiang Mai, a resort town in Northern Thailand. The big draw card today is one of the Kingdom's top snake handlers, Manut Oemme, 45, a.k.a. Snake Man, and his apprentice, Jay Defario, 30, a New Yorker who will soon be a certified snake-handler. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/002/page02.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/002/page02.html My dinner was distressed, so he tried to climb out of the pot. He barely fit anyway, perched upon a mound of seafood, the rest of which was thankfully already dead. Tentacles shot out in every direction and I squashed down the lid to keep him from making it on to the table. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/002/page03.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/002/page03.html Hanging on the toilet wall of the surprisingly tame Cabbages and Condoms Restaurant at Sukhumvit Road, Bangkok, is a framed photograph of the Chao Phraya River. Like a bale of light blue silk, it flows through historic Bangkok, slicing it into Thonburi and Rattanakosin, with the famous Wat Arun on one side and the Grand Palace on the other. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/002/page04.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/002/page04.html "Erai Yatcha! Erai Yatcha! Yoi, yoi, yoi, yoi!" I have no idea what I'm saying, but it doesn't really matter. Dancing in a mosh pit of sorts on the streets of Tokushima with a group composed of English teachers and other revellers; we're in town for teacher training, but its really an excuse to get us here for the Awa Odori Festival. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/002/page05.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/002/page05.html One of the many pleasures of being an ex-pat in Hong Kong is the myriad travel opportunities within the region. Just get out the atlas and see the proximity of all those exotic places! Vietnam is high on the list of desirable destinations for many Hong Kong ex-pats. As an American who grew up with graphic footage of the Vietnam War every night on the evening news, I was dying to go, albeit with a sense of ambivalence and guilt about my homeland's ill-advised presence in Southeast Asia. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/002/page06.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/002/page06.html I squeezed into the rear of the truck for the fifteen-minute trip to Ubon. Sergeant Joshua Tremont and a driver sat up front. Dan Ortiz, Pete Guilbert and two others, whose names and faces now elude me, rode with me in the rear. It was only 4pm and I already downed three beers at the Cobra Club. A quick start for the night ahead. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/002/page07.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/002/page07.html So how much culture shock can you experience in one day? I arrived in Japan not knowing how much I would take from my one-day trip and I departed with three things to muse upon - blowfish, bicycles, and bizarre sporting celebrations. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/002/page08.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/002/page08.html This premier issue of Oriental Tales Magazine features short travel stories from Indonesia, Thailand, Philippines, Vietnam, Malaysia, and South Korea. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/001/index.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/001/index.html After a few days in Jakarta, I wish to escape the chaos, the pollution and the traffic. I want to stand on the beach, feel the sand swirl between my toes, smell the salty air, taste the spray on my lips, feel the wind blow through my hair. I want to hear the waves break, look at the horizon and know there is nothing between me and the South Pole but this vast expanse of ocean. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/001/page02.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/001/page02.html In a pivotal scene in Fight Club, Tyler puts it to Jack. "How much can you really know about yourself if you've never been in a fight?" Ritdech Sitwanoi, 15, is about to find out. He's tough as nails. And though bare-knuckle kick boxing doesn't pay much, he's keen to get in the ring in a few days and test his mettle. The purse is 500 baht for a Thai winner, 400 for a Burmese and 100 each for a draw: he is obviously not doing it for the money. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/001/page03.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/001/page03.html As the jeepney pulled into the market place in Donsol I began to feel apprehensive. People bumped and jostled by me as I hefted my backpack down from the roof rack. Except for a few tables set up to sell fresh vegetables and food, the market place seemed full of people simply loitering. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/001/page04.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/001/page04.html One night I got a text message when I was sitting in a bar. I thought it was going to be one of my nightly 'Good night MIKE I hope you have sweet dream' texts that my students take turns to send me. Turns out that 'Student Unknown 9' wanted me to meet her parents. After a heavy weekend in Saigon, the peace and tranquility of the Delta seemed like a great idea. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/001/page05.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/001/page05.html For once it was not my alarm clock that woke me. Instead the high-pitched shrieks of my wife yanked me from dreamland. "Come quick, very big snake in the garden!" She screeched in her thick Thai accent. I stumbled sleepily downstairs, cussing to myself. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/001/page06.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/001/page06.html Curry chicken, wok-tossed char-kway teow (flat rice noodles), steamy coconut rice, a smorgasbord of other delectable Malaysian dishes. A blend of smells, a potpourri of hunger-taunting aromas. A whirl of activity, a hungry crowd, constantly moving bodies of people-- laughing, walking, rushing-- eating, drinking, chatting. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/001/page07.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/001/page07.html The old man peered up at me and his leathery face cracked as he smiled and spoke. "You? You Handsome!" He had brownish-yellow stained teeth, gappy like the crenelated wall of an English castle; and his upper body drooped over what seemed like a forty-five degree angle from his waist. The Hunchback of Jisandong seemed like he'd never seen a foreigner before in his life; so I just smiled back and said, "kamsa-hamneeda" to thank him. http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/001/page08.html http://www.orientaltales.com/issues/001/page08.html