Nepal and South-East Asia

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The two weeks I spent in Nepal were action-packed to say the least. The adventure kicked-off at the border town of Kodari, in China, where I bed farewell to the 'Middle Kingdom' before proceeding to the passport stamping ceremony with a bunch of welcoming Nepalese officials.


kodari

The weather was in sharp contrast with what I'd endured a few hours before at 5.200 meters in altitude.




In Tibet you couldn't urinate without risking frostbite on your equipment but on the Nepali side of the mountains the rice paddies were steaming under the hot rays of the sun.

Shedding buckets of sweat under my fleece, I hopped on one of the public buses leading to Kathmandu. These rides are quite popular with the locals, which means that they are packed to the bursting point and therefore the only sightseeing you get are your neighbor's armpits. The best option, as I later discovered, is to squeeze out and head to the rooftop (if you don't mind risking being decapitated or catapulted off, that is).




The advantages of being up there are numerous: not only can you enjoy fresh air and the company of friendly locals, but you also get a chance to escape the inevitable Indian tunes blasting out of the cracking loudspeakers. Furthermore, as you're working on your tan, you get a chance to keep an eye on the beautiful scenery and another on your backpack, thereby preventing some asshole from taking off with it at one of the numerous military checkpoints on the way.

Just like everywhere in Southern Asia, the Nepalese driving style is a white-knuckled frenzy. Drivers not only have the tendency to lean on the horn, they also recklessly work their way in the traffic, using all available lanes or shoulders. Cows, however, don't seem disturbed at all by this frenetic chaos and are usually witnessed casually strolling on the tarmac in search for yet another waste bin to plunder.




Landscapes in Southern Asia are as breathtaking as they are diverse. The land is fertile and the alternation of rain and dry season provides a rich bounty of varied crops. The food is flavored with lemon grass, mint, chilies, coconut milk and curries which give it the regions' distinctive punch.

Kathmandu

Durbar Square

If it wasn't for the swarms of small cars, motorbikes and cyclos, Kathmandu would make you feel as though you'd stepped in a time capsule and had been time-warped back into some medieval town. The streets are narrow, crowded and have a distinct oriental atmosphere. Heavily flavored incense sticks are fuming at every street corner, endless stalls selling various crafts spill all the way onto the curbs, Tibetan and Hindu incantations resonate in your ears and lots of interesting characters populate the area. The city is probably my favorite in Asia, and particularly Durbar Square, where about forty temples are laid out in a very haphazard way.

Outside Kathmandu, Nepal remains a primitive land where many people live without electricity, telephone or roads. The government uses a calendar by whose reckoning it is the year 2064. Politics is still a new experience; parties have become legal only since 1990, and large chunks of the country exist in an ungoverned vacuum. Much of the country is still in the Middle Ages.

Kathmandu airport

Chitwan National Park

I came to the Chitwan National Park on the promise of a safari involving jungle treks amongst all sorts of wildlife and exciting rhinoceros chases on top of elephants. I must say that I was not let down.

chitwan

The lodge I'd chosen was ideally located on an island, far away from any bustling human settlement. The safari started on the first evening with an explanatory slideshow and briefing by the naturalist guide who did his best to describe the behaviors of the species roaming in the jungle nearby: crocodiles, tigers, rhinoceros, exotic birds and big-ass insects. He also provided useful tips on what to do when bitten by a poisonous snake while Crocodile Dundee is not in the vicinity. Given the rather primitive medical infrastructure in the park, I decided that if I were to be faced with this slightly unpleasant situation, the best policy would probably be to run the nearest shrine and pray Shiva, the God of Creation, to try and convince him to postpone our face-to-face.

At crack of dawn on the next morning, it was like being in the middle of a Discovery Channel documentary, one where some chaps with grey beards, straw hats and khaki shorts circle their prey with cameras and slowly close in, shutting off all avenues of escape while explaining what is going on under excited whispers. At one point, we chased an angry rhinoceros for a full hour through the bushes and swamps.

The ability of our huge pachyderms to tear down anything on their paths left me mesmerized. Trees were collapsing in our wake, leaving our arms and legs dotted with splinters and covered with thick spider webs. We later rewarded our elephants for their effort with a refreshing dip in the river, where they playfully lifted us on their back using their trunk. It was a true delight.

I had a wonderful time hanging out with a great couple from Paris, and we spent countless nights chatting until dawn on the river bank, interrupted only by the overwhelming noise of the jungle and the cheerful Indian tunes sung by the dozen drunken guests dispatched from Delhi and Mumbai.

Mary and Christophe

Pokhara

I realized all good things eventually come to an end when I bed farewell to Mary, Christophe and the friendly staff of the lodge as I headed to the city of Pokhara. Travelers around Pokhara are predominantly of the hippie variety and are attracted to Nepal by the promises of spiritual rising, clean air and most importantly by the prospect of cheap dope.

pokhara


They come here and do the only thing they are really good at: talk nonsense and get mightily stoned all day long. As their out-of focus glare sets somewhere in the mid-distance, they fail to realize the country is in the midst of a civil war and the bloodshed surrounding them is all too real. At an estimated 10 killings a day, Nepal's conflict is currently the deadliest in Asia. At times, such as when over a thousand died in a single month, this beautiful mountain kingdom briefly becomes the single most dangerous place on the planet.

In a nutshell, I'll fill you in on what I think is going on. On February 1st, 2005, fed up with the war on the Maoist Rebel movement that has crippled the country for almost a decade, King Gyanendra opted for bold action in order to reclaim complete control over the country. He dissolved the government by placing senior politicians under house arrest and nominated brown-nosing followers at key position of power while he took the reigns of the military. By decapitating the civil society, he not only ended Nepal's fifteen year experiment with democracy, but also aggravated the Maoists' fury.

The brutality is unspeakable; massacres have become commonplace. A favored Maoist technique is the wave attack where the objective is of leaving no enemy alive. Washington has recently added the Maoist rebels to its list of terrorist groups and human rights organizations accuse them of kidnapping, torture and murder. Since 2001, the war has cost the lives of 10.000 people, and the killing is far from over. Martial law has been declared and military units patrol every city and comb the countryside in search for insurgents. Checkpoints are established on most roads and heavily armed soldiers search buses and point their machine guns at the passengers while riffling through the luggage. It is quite terrifying at first, but like everything else in life, you get used to it.

Maoists are led by Prachanda (which means the fierce one). In a country so poor, it is no wonder that the 19th century theories of Engels and Marx, promising progress and modernism (fill your own joke in here), appealed to this peasant boy who rapidly embraced Communism as the only valid form of government. His movement despises history for having skipped Nepal when the Red wave swept the globe all the way from Russia and China to Cuba. The Maoists' system of belief is primitive and their action brutal. Inspired by Cambodia's Khmer Rouge, they seek to wipe out every trace of previous authority by executing and torturing bureaucrats, doctors and teachers. The goal is to topple the King and his puppets by using a combination of classic people revolution and urban guerrilla. While they claim it is a peoples' war, the victims are mostly civilians who, if not murdered, are drawn deeper into poverty through intimidation and are either forced to donate to the cause or shut down their business.

Tourism figures have dropped dramatically and the economy is collapsing. Droves of Nepalese are fleeing in terror on a daily basis and are searching safe havens in India or Gulf countries, where they provide for cheap labor and fuel the sex industry. A quarter of the population now lives abroad. The ones who are not participating in this massive exodus stay behind to try and make a living from the rare tourists visiting the country.

The foreigners I saw were mostly cheap pricks with a morality of their own trying to take advantage of the situation by bargaining their prey into starvation. I can't stand hippies any longer and I certainly couldn't muster the courage to follow them into this sick practice. I tried to keep in mind the true value of the Rupee when making purchases and bargained only to keep face, not to try and save the Dollar that meant the vendors' kids may still be hungry that night. I also broke away from my policy of refrain towards beggars and didn't mind giving them money. I pushed it so far as to hop on rickshaws for hundred meter rides in order to give these desperate guys some business as well.

Since I stayed well clear from the other tourists, I was left isolated and therefore had a lot of time to talk with the locals. Tears ran to my eyes as I listened to the account of the suffering they had to endure in order to survive. I couldn't put words on my emotions. Emotions are bloody elusive. As soon as you think you've cornered them, they change shape and the net of words you'd prepared to throw over them becomes meaningless. I realized the place wasn't safe but at the same time I struggled to decide whether to stay or not. When faced with binary dilemmas, I usually flip a coin.

First attempt: Tails - Bangkok. I felt frustration, had another go and... Tails again. It was against my will. I wanted fate to comfort me in my choice of staying in this country I was starting to love. I wanted Heads but the coin wouldn't give in. In this desperate environment, I decided to throw myself off a cliff.

Himalayan vultures

As the vulture following my descent spotted a thermal in front of us, so did the paragliding instructor I was strapped under and he steered our wing into it. We spiraled up high above the Pokara Lake.

While he talked me through the proceedings, immense Hymalayan vultures were gliding next to us and were showing the way to the next column of hot air. My head was clearing, my reason overtook my emotions and I made up my mind; I had to leave Nepal. The prospects of trekking the Annapurna and the thrills of white water rafting were fading away at every swirl; upon touchdown on the lake's bank, I had decided to fly back to Thailand as soon as possible.

Sunrise Paragliding (free advertisement dude!)

On the plane to Bangkok, as the beautiful Himalayan mountain range unfurled in front of my eyes, I promised myself to come back to this extraordinary country as soon as events would permit it.

Thailand




Bangkok

The Thai capital had not changed from what I left it at about three months earlier. Monsoon was slowly rolling in and the combination of heat, humidity and pollution made it slightly unbearable there.

I took the opportunity to drop off my Nikon camera to get it fixed, at last, and waited another day for Kristine to come back from Laos in order to spend some time traveling with her again.

kristine

As soon as she got in town, we cruised off to the Andaman Sea: the coast of Thailand well known throughout the Western world for having been hit by the Tsunami.

Phuket

Phuket was hit, but being the prime destination for package tourists in Thailand, it has quickly healed from its scars.

The Tsunami is history around here, or at least the damage it caused is not apparent anymore. What is apparent though is that if you sport neither a mullet nor a mustache and are not a big fan of Bavarian music, you will feel a little bit out of place there. This island is just as bad as I had imagined it to be. The main drag in the Pattang area features a lot of dodgy joints with lines of shady blokes staring at their beer or watching some prostitute dancing around a pole on the bar. Second only to Pattaya in terms of sleaziness, Phuket is the perfect venue for sex tourists. Here, it is actually most uncommon for the single-testicular oversized middle-aged man described above NOT to be wandering around town with a pretty Thai girl hanging on each arm.

The only way I can find entertainment in this filthy meat market is to imagine one of these assholes waking up the next morning and realize that in their alcohol induced haze, they have been lured into bed by a bunch of Katoey. Katoey, otherwise known as lady-boys, are exactly what the word suggests they are: transvestites. Some do a pretty good job at cross-dressing and without close scrutiny, one could easily be fooled. The Katoey community is widespread across the country and, quite surprizingly considering the conservative nature of the Nation, they are generally very accepted by Thais.

It is not advised for the less tolerant tourists to express animosity towards them since they are notorious for being extremely aggressive and have a tendency to lash out by slicing a box-cutter across the face of insulting macho types before vanishing into thin air.

Apart from hanging out on overcrowded beaches that have a distinct Benidorm feel to them, we saw no point wasting our time in Phuket and made it on the first boat to Koh Phi Phi.

Koh Phi Phi

Phi Phi Island, once considered one of the most beautiful island groups in the world, is located half-way between Phuket and Krabi and is part of the Had Nopparat National Park that covers 390 sq km in Krabi Province. It consists of two parallel running wooded hills that are connected by a narrow sandy isthmus covered by coconut groves and rimmed with beaches on either side. This island was most hardly hit by the Tsunami.

Tons of rubble from the hundreds of bungalows that once dotted the isthmus are being fished out of the sea every day by volunteers. The locals, still shocked by the 12 seconds from hell they went through on December 26th of last year, are slowly picking up their lives. They are extraordinarily grateful towards the tourists spending much appreciated Bath there. We spent the first days socializing and relaxing on the beach and felt good about this form of help but after a while, we couldn't prevent being overwhelmed by the reconstruction work underway.

The idea of helping by spreading our business across the community started to wear off and after a few days we decided to take it a step further by joining in with the volunteers and contribute to the relief effort. On the morning we started, we were filled with an enthusiasm that only the feeling of having a sense of purpose can provoke. We picked up our gear and made it to the meeting point on the beach. We helped fork the rubble from the water onto large stacks on the beach. It contained anything from broken digital cameras to Tsunamied bottles and bricks.

We wanted to work hard but as the day progressed, we both started feeling our levels of frustration rise. The people surrounding us were not there to help out of faith, but were mostly driven by a quest for social recognition. They looked down upon anyone who wasn't signing up for permanent volunteering and treated the locals like dog shit. Our frustration led to anger and we decided to leave those premises to go back to the places where we knew our help was appreciated.

Apart from the friendly locals, the island had an unpleasant aggressive vibe to it. Volunteers have a tendency on getting very drunk and behave as though they own the place; short term visitors are not that much better and just like in Nepal, they act like a bunch of scavengers.

We were invited by our cheerful neighbors in the weirdest place I've ever seen serving as a tattoo parlor. In the precariously balancing ruins of a bungalow, some dodgy artists practiced their art with a bamboo needle under a flickering light bulb, while drinking large quantities of the local brew. Kristine best described the scene when she whispered in my ear that "this place has hepatitis written all over it; these boys are bringing much more home than their tattoos!". We spent one mesmerizing hour there before giving them the slip.







We spent another evening dining with a couple from England and had a good laugh until suddenly, the guy flicked a peanut in my beer and the mood changed. "I don't like it the slightest bit", he said, fuming over a stupid misunderstanding. None of us, including his girlfriend, understood why he had suddenly snapped. I brushed the incident away and we left them. He hadn't yet sobered up and went ape-shit when I met him later on the way back to my room; he drew a knife and challenged me into a fight which I diplomatically talked my way out of. His red-faced girlfriend couldn't hide her embarrassment when she apologized for him the next morning; it was the last we saw of them. When another guy displayed the same level of aggressiveness a few days later, we decided to get out of there and wished the locals good luck before we headed to Koh Lanta and Malaysia.

Malaysia

Malaysia suffers from severe Asian Tiger Syndrome. During the late 1980s, following Japan’s meteoric rise to economic powerhouse, the remainder of Asia sought desperately to follow in her footsteps. The emerging economic powers of Southeast Asia were dubbed the “Asian Tigers.” These nations became, in effect, Japan's factories. They imported Japanese know-how, technology and styles of management while exporting semiconductors, chips and televisions.

Malaysia was one of these Tiger nations. Though often under the shadow of Singapore, Malaysia quickly developed a skilled workforce that was ready and fit to the task of being technology factory to the world. But something happened on the way to riches. Japan's economy faltered and economic crisis spread throughout Asia. By 1997, at the height of the Asian economic crisis, these once ready-to-pounce Asian Tigers were facing massive withdraws of foreign funds, deep recessions and inflation. The Asian Tigers were becoming troubled developing nations again.

Malaysia had to regroup and retrench. For its neighbours this meant reassessing economic growth and accepting more conservative development plans. For Malaysia though, having tasted the first world and anxious to get back, this crisis called for more aggressive growth. In the past 5 years, retail space in Kuala Lumpur has doubled; convention centers and luxury hotels are being raised at a reckless pace. The country inaugurated the Malaysia Grand Prix after winning a spot on the professional world racing circuit. In fact, throughout Malaysia, you see evidence of the country’s boundless ambitions: a world-class airport overbuilt to twice the number of terminals needed, the world’s tallest building and then there is the currency. Malaysia is so eager to prove itself that instead of depicting prominent figures, it has chosen to depict its technological accomplishments on its money bills.

Penang

Penang, a Malaysian island just south of the border with Thailand, is no place to write home about so the only thing I'll say is that we unanimously voted our hotel to be, by far, the worst one any of us had ever spent a night in. It bears no comfort to realize, after you've checked in, that a lot of prostitutes are working out front and that the the hallways are pretty crowded all night long.

Kuala Lumpur




Kuala Lumpur is in sharp contrast with this. The city is very modern and offers all the amenities you could dream of. For the first time since I have undertaken this adventure, I felt like being in the Western world again, with all the advantages and drawbacks to it. The landmark of the city is the Petronas Tours, the tallest building in the world. The Twin Tours are definitely impressive but don't provide enough entertainment to occupy you with for a few days and so we whiled away in various Starbucks and hung out in bookstores to stock up on some literature before going to Bali. The ten story shopping mall, in which the bookstore was located, is by far the most ridiculous place I've seen in my life. You can spend days in there walking around without seeing the same store twice. It's simply insane.

Indonesia

Kuta, Bali

As soon as I got my Visa approved by the Indonesian embassy, we flew out to Bali, where the weather is forgiving, the surfing is good and the local craft of unmatched beauty. We are soaking up the very comfortable atmosphere, chatting with the locals, shopping for cheap bargains, enjoying the stunning scenery.

A journey to Bali usually starts off in Kuta and ours was of course no exception. The place has been on the centerstage of world news when, on October 12, 2002, terrorists blew up two popular clubs and 300 people were injured or died. Victims were predominently Australian and Indonesian. The tourist industry on which the island heavily relies, plummeted for several years. Fortunately the name Bali still evokes a paradise island and tourists are coming back.



After spending some time in Kuta, we left to a small island called Nusa Lembongan, where the athmosphere created by the surfers is really laid back. I took some time exploring the island with Tino, a traveller from Germany. We agreed that the best way to go off the beaten track and see interesting stuff is to hire a mountain bike. We definitely redefined the concept of traveling on our own steam; I mean cycling at noon on a tropical island, what were we thinking?!

We found an underground house belonging to a guy who couldn't pay back his gambling debts and was therefore banned from the village by its inhabitants. Knowing he would never make it alive in the jungle, he carved out 500 sq meters of rocks close to town and lived the troglodyte life of an outcast for over fifteen years. It was quite interesting to admire his work. A true lifetime achievement, but gee, it sucked to be him.





We are currently in the very pleasant town of Ubud were we just enjoy the forgiving climate and wander from one craft shop to another. There is a jungle around this town appropriately called "monkey forest". Hundreds of Balinese grey macaques have made it their home and freely roam around amongst the visitors, while eating bananas and cracking coconuts. It is a very entertaining place.

I hope you are enjoying your lives as much as I am right now. I promise to drink a cold Bintang to your health and wish you all the best.



Take care.

PS: To those who may have noticed, I think I owe a word of explanation about why I changed the title of this blog. My first draft of the post about China and Tibet ended with some words about the exciting things that were lying ahead of me and was directly followed by a sentence saying something along the lines of "as for you, please take care of yourselves and don't slip on a bar of soap in the bathroom". I didn't find it amusing at all and so I left it out, but guess what, on the next day, as I stepped out of the shower to grab a towel, I wiped out and sent my skull crashing on the toilet (the sitting type, I should add), leaving my forehead bruised with a one inch protrusion that would have scared the yaks away on my trek. Poetic justice, some would say.

I took this incident as both an omen and a warning. My website seems to have the mysterious power of punishing me by inflicting on myself any curse I invoke. You're probably thinking it's about time for me to grow up and stop taking Harry Pothead books seriously (and I don't blame you), but in the meantime I opted for safety and decided that the question-title "So, how's your day at the office?" was most inappropriate. Feeling no inclination for that question to backfire and be directed at me anytime soon, I changed it to something a bit more blend.

I mean, it's nice to be wearing a suit and a tie instead of worn-out traveler gear; it is also a lot more pleasant to be spending the day in air-conditioned offices instead of sweating like a wrestler in some worn out shack in the middle of the boonies, or to be driving a comfortable company car instead of risking your life on board of an Asian bus, but as far as I'm concerned, all those nice things can wait. I still feel I have a lot of thrilling adventures to live during the course of the year, so I'll ask you to enjoy all that comfort for me in the meantime.

Take care, and oh, good luck with it!

I'm going back to Thailand to meet up with Rogier; a picture tells a thousand words about our plans for the coming weeks.

Cheers! R.

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