Melaka, Malaysia

Halfway thru Melaka, looking through the windshield in front of me whilst my chin rested on my right hand, I regretted not having much time spent in Georgetown--inscribed as UNESCO World Heritage Site. I could have gotten myself a bunk in a turn-of-the-century building there, slept the whole day and woke up just after sundown.

Here's how the sequence of the storyboard would have appeared: Me pulling a chair in a roadside cafe. Puffing. Sipping whilst taking down mental notes on the city's architecture and simply, just people-watch.

As the bus swooshed its way toward the fringes of Kuala Lumpur and to the historic town of Melaka, the urban cityscape of KL changes to rolling terrains, palm oil plantations and orchards. Two hours have passed and with a clear window, a camera on standby, I could not take a decent photo yet of what I believed were old houses, mostly abandoned and slowly left to decay.



I flipped my notebook as the bus stopped at Melaka Central Terminal. It read: "Take bus no 17 from Melaka Sentral bus terminal. Get off at the red Dutch Square. Walk across the bridge over the Melaka river, turn right into Lorong Hang Jebat. At the end of the road, turn left into Jalan Kampong Pantai. Continue to walk for about 3 minutes. We are on the right."

But the instruction did not prepare me for a delightful feast for the senses. As soon as the bus entered the Heritage City, I felt transported to a living museum which Melaka really is. Spice stores, Chinese restaurants and temples that reeked of incense. Mosque sits side by side temples. These must be the same smell, sight and flavor hundreds and hundreds of years ago when the town teemed with Portuguese and Dutch settlers alongside Chinese traders.

Then, I finally found my hostel-- Riverview Guesthouse. It's a two-story affair housed in a 1900s structure by the Melaka River. As soon as I registered and paid 45 ringgit (USD13.00) for such a very nice room with floor to ceiling windows that empty to the street (the opposite end of the hostel is the river), the very nice couple-- Raymond and Mani, owners of the hostel, gave me a good headstart for my stay in Melaka.



(to be continued...)

Thailand

Bangkok is a City Like No Other

The sight as I cross the Cambodia-Thailand border ripped my heart: rickshaws being pulled by women; my homework about Bangkok left me with the impression that it is much like Manila. To borrow Claire Danes words: " ...a ghastly city which smelled of cockroaches." (which later earned the actress "persona non-grata"; Danes apologized later on). Getting on with Bangkok, its smell and sound, colors and what-not, I can't help but take back what was tucked inside my head.

The transport system is well organised. I mean the BTS and MRT. Forget about Bangkok Jam. Monstrous traffic is but a staple in every mega city. The streets are clean. Pockets of green are everywhere. The food, from street food to food sold at the floating market, dang! it tasted friggin' good! I am now one with my boss who, before I left for this trip, shamelessly said Thai Cuisine is the best in the world!

And the people! With a ready smile, baby! Thai in every corner are more than willing to help you with directions. Moreover, I've never seen a city (i.e. in SouthEast Asia) so fashion forward. The people, I mean. Practically Thai in every corner, from Khao San to Siam Square, are dressed up like the whole city is one extended runway. Astig!

And of course, where else is the center of Asia's backpacking universe, the jump-off point before hitting the beaches of Thailand or other Asian destinations--Khao San Road. The verve is so infectious round the clock!



How else can one best experience the local flavor but through a local's eye. Thank you many times over Aanas my Bangkok CS host; Tum and May; Tommaso of Italy and Daniel of Malaysia! Until next time. Somewhere. Somehow.

Cambodia

The Road (and lowdown) to Cambodia

After a 10-hour bus ride (USD18.00; 5 hours Saigon-Phnom Penh; another 5 hours Phnom Penh-Siem Riep) the bus stopped in front of the National Museum.

The heavy rain that night didn't dampen my mood. After all, I was holed up in a 5-star accommodation at a hostel price (Siem Riep Hostel; USD 8.00/night dorm room). Did I mention there is an indoor swimming pool and every form of wholesome entertainment at each floor?!? and a USD 1.00 buffet breakfast of tropical fruits, cereal, toast and apple juice! Plus free use of bicycle! And it's just a 5-minute walk to Pub Street! A steal already! No wonder the hostel is voted as hostelworld.com's BEST HOSTEL!

My tuk-tuk driver, Samuel, whom I hired to bring me to the hostel from the bus stop at USD 1.00 offered to take me to the Angkor Wat Archeological Complex at USD 8.00 motorcyle only (or add another USD 2.00 if I prefer tuk-tuk).



Of course, first to tick on the list is to see Angkor by sunrise (1 day pass at USD20.00).



Everything happened smoothly as planned except that by 10:00AM, my camera's battery went poof! Drained! And I was barely half-way through the whole complex! To make the story short, I asked Samuel the driver, to just show me around and bring me back to my hostel so I could recharge the battery and pretty much, I would be on my own until sunset in Angkor.





Here goes the photos because there are experiences
which are better left in wordlessness.







But wait, last hirit. Prepare yourself as you enter the South Gate. It's spine tingling!

Saigon, Viet Nam

The Heat is On (Even Before I Landed) in Saigon!

Couldn’t get more boring than this: standing for an hour, waiting behind yellow line before an airline personnel bursts your bubble: “Hey kiddo! You’re 5-country backpacking trip is botched! Forget about it. Go home and get some sleep!" Kidding.

My bloodshot eyes. These eyes, the airline personnel behind the counter took notice of. Must be the A(h1N1) scare. What happen to your eyes, Sir? (holy camote! She knows I am a teacher! She calls me Sir!) "Not enough sleep last night (rolls eyes, secretly), Miss." See. I could be hideous and brat altogether, if provoked. I just try to push it down. The green monster won’t sweat the small stuff, baby.

To backtrack: I got a one-way ticket to Saigon. And per silly Philippine law, I should get a return ticket. Since I will be working my way from Viet Nam down to three other countries before I exit through Singapore, I didn’t bother getting a return ticket from Saigon to Manila. Getting the return ticket from Saigon is downright stupid. Besides, it will further bust my long-been-stretched shoestring budget. Five counters to my left, behind the express counter, I can see the manager talking over the phone. “Waiting for a reply from Saigon Station, Sir” the personnel says. “Whadddda *toooot…*!” I hollered inside my head. “Here, take a look. I got this guidebook (Backpack Southeast Asia and parts of China by Robert Alejandro; Php390.00). The author did this route and there’s no reason why I can’t,” in the most polite manner possible, I informed the lady. She got the book and presented it to the manager.



So, here I am. In cold, standing in front of the check-in counter in NAIA Terminal 3. Wide-eyed and trying to contain the panic creeping its branches inside my chest. This is my friggin’ first trip abroad. Solo at that. I have done every imaginable research. Packed the necessary clothing. Done the necessary rituals (if there’s any). Kissed the appropriate arses (again, if there’s any). And the gospel truth is that, yes, Juan, I am flying to Saigon for crying out loud and do the 5-country backpacking trip before summer holidays officially come to an end.

Fast Forward: The plane lands at Tan Son Nhat International Airport 10 minutes ahead of schedule. As if it matters to me. What greets me is a sleek steel and glass arrival terminal and a relatively younger looking immigration personnel. I intensely dislike the comparison but just can’t help comparing the pot-bellied immigration personnel in *clears throat* where else--my lips are sealed. Passing through the immigration counter is a breeze. No visa necessary in the next thirty days for Pinoys. After breezing through the escalator and x-ray, I come face-to-face with Saigon’s midnight air beyond the gate and sense familiarity through a lady speaking over the phone, in Tagalog. Turns out she is from Antique and works as a household staff for an expat family in Hanoi. Minutes later, another Filipina joins in. She is from Sorsogon and works as a teacher in Pnom Penh, Cambodia. And so, like backpackers anywhere, we easily adapt to the culture of sleeping in airports. But by 3AM, the guard on duty, with a smile, informed us the airport is closing in a few minutes (read: go, find another place to sleep).

To cut the chase, the Hanoi-bound Pinay goes to the domestic terminal whilst the Phnom Penh-bound one gets into the cab with me. We are off to the bus ticket office for Cambodia. In a strange twist of fate, the ticket outlet is right smack in De Tham Street—the backpacker’s area in Saigon. But the hostels open at 8AM. To kill time, we grab a chair in a 24/7 pub and order breakfast with a strange coffee to-go.



By 7AM, I started looking for a USD4.00/night room. Slim chance. For solo traveler, I got a good deal: USD8.00/night aircon room with hot and cold shower and CATV. But I have to sweat my way up on a narrow staircase. The room is on the fifth floor. By 10AM, I was ready to meet my couchsurfing host Jackie—a kindred soul who makes Saigon her home between Cebu and the world.







FIRST STOP: Saigon (Ho Chi Minh), Viet Nam where traffic is crazy! Forget about our Manila drivers because they actually look sedated, baby!



Thank you many times over Jackie--my Saigon CS host. Kita kits pohon~

tying summer's end

A Seven-Year-Old's Haiku

Tied in bunny ears

Your shoelace winding in mine 

Two (summer's) loose ends

for you, Love. Because with you, I am born. Again.

RV Escatron | 30 May 2009

My First Poem For You

Kim Addonizio

My First Poem For You

I like to touch your tattoos in complete

Darkness, when I can’t see them. I’m sure of
Where they are, know by heart the neat
Lines of lightning pulsing just above
Your nipple, can find, as if by instinct, the blue
Swirls of water on your shoulder where a serpent
Twists, facing a dragon. When I pull you
To me, taking you until we’re spent
And quiet on the sheets, I love to kiss
The pictures on your skin. They’ll last until
You’re seared to ashes; whatever persists
or turns to pain between us, they will still
be there. Such permanence is terrifying.
So I touch them in the dark, but touch them, trying.

Sagada

In many of my travels, I have always placed 'getting into the local verve' at the top of my tick list. The company one keeps comes close at second spot. But this trip to Sagada opened up something new. Or maybe it was just there all along, at the back of my mind, and during this trip, it was swelling, ripe enough, perfect for picking. Wookie. Wookie. Before this entry triggers the warning bulb and bursts into an explosion of saccharine proportion, let's get down to the business of budget traveling.



tip no.1: take the roof for the 360 degree view of the Cordillera landscape. And don't forget to hold tight. Real tight. (Sagada-Bontoc Php40.00 one-way)



on foot: passing by St. Mary's Church on the way to the 'hanging coffins'



Echo Valley and Hanging Coffins are a few heartbeats away from here



the log cabin (tucked on a hill, in the fringes of a pine forest, offers a panoramic view of Sagada town) with the two main ingredients for romance ...



fireplace and..



and a warm bed.



i lurrrrve Sagada! AND WILL DEFINITELY KEEP COMING BACK with YOU baby! And if you won't, I'll drag you till you give in. By all means!

....................................................
The Philippine version of Shangri-la, Sagada may not be Utopian but it is definitely remote and exotic says Robert Gardner of aenet.org. And I couldn't agree more. This lovely little town of about eleven thousand people is tucked in a valley in Central Cordillera. Aside from spelunking and nature hikes that will lead you to the hanging coffins (hanging coffins was a traditional way of burying people that is not utilized anymore. Not anyone was qualified to be buried this way; one had to, among other things, be married and have grandchildren--wikipedia.com) this town 275 km. North of Manila also offers homey inns and guesthouses with charming owners.

Food destinations include Yoghurt House, Masferre Cafe and Lemon Pie House while places of interest are Sumaguing and Lumiang Caves, Bomod-ok and Bokong Falls, Rice terraces, Echo Valley, Kiltepan Tower, Underground River and Lake Danum