The Great Trip

Merry Christmas to All - May Peace Prevail on Earth

posted by Rion and Anissa @ 8:48 AM 2 comments links to this post   

Please Pamper My Tired Bottom, No Daipers Please

“We’re sorry, at this time we are unable to process international credit cards. Please call customer service for assistance”

I felt my frustration level rise as I read theses words from the computer screen in the internet café. All I have is international credit cards! All my credit cards were issued in America and I need to make a plane reservation from Bangkok to Phuket.

Anissa and I had been in Bangkok for three days and we had one more night before we were to head to the Island of Phuket in the Andaman Sea on the South-West coast of Thailand. We had come to Bangkok for just an overnighter before we headed south but, Anissa had developed a very bad case of dysentery that required a hospital visit, because of this we extended our time in Bangkok from one to four days. Anissa had become sick while we were on the Island of Koh Chang (Elephant Island) in the Gulf of Thailand near the Cambodia/Thailand border.

As well prepared round-the-world travelers, we are carrying medical supplies to treat most minor and some major illnesses. Included in the med-kit is Cipro, the best choice to treat traveler’s diarrhea and bacterial dysentery (Not to mention Anthrax, which I won’t.) After a full course of Cipro hadn’t cured my delicate-little-flower and quite a bit of cajoling, Anissa agreed to visit the hospital in Bangkok. We spent the better part of an afternoon in the hospital until the doctor informed us that she had developed gastro-intestinal yeast dysentery, which could be treated with a course of antibiotics and some rest. After the second day of treatment she began to feel better and we knew it was OK to leave Bangkok.

My dearest friend Travis has a college buddy who runs a luxury hotel on Phuket. This resort is way, way, way out of our budget but Travis insisted that we go stay for at least a couple of nights under his auspices. I agreed that Anissa and I could use a little pampering after a month of travel through Cambodia. Scott, the managing director of Phuket Pavilions and college buddy of Travis, just happened to have three nights available in the resort that was otherwise booked for months in advance. As an added bonus he would send the resort car to meet us at the airport. Those nights started the tomorrow. After searching for a flight that we could afford and would get us to the Island with time to enjoy the evening, I was informed that Nok Air would not accept international credit cards. I was hoping that customer service would be able to help as I dialed the number on my cell phone.

After navigating the auto-attendant and arriving at an English speaking representative my hopes were dashed upon the rocks of disappointment when she confirmed that there is no way for them to process a credit card from outside Thailand.

“Please, is there any way to book this flight?” I begged.

“Can you get to a 7-11 within the next hour?” she asked.

“Of course, there is one right across the street. I’m looking at the entrance right now. I can be there in two minuets. Why? “

Let me pause in my story for a moment for all of you that have not been to Thailand. There is not another country on the planet that has more 7-11’s than Thailand. Truly not even the USA, the birth place of 7-11. This is not a Thai copy of the American 7-11, this is the real thing; green and red logo, hot dogs on the roller grill and Big Gulps on the rack. In Bangkok it is not uncommon to count four or five 7-11’s in a city block. I had already heard that some of the long-haul buses use specific 7-11’s as bus stops, but I was not sure why I was being asked if I could go there now. Could they have a small runway out back?

“You can pay for your flight at 7-11. I can hold the reservation for one hour…”

I took down the details of my confirmation and dashed across the street to pay. As I entered the 7-11 my phone beeped that I had a SMS text. I read the message to find all my flight details contained in the message. WOW! This was cool. I walked straight up to the counter and said that I would like to pay for my Nok Air flight. The cute Thai girls working behind the counter looked at another customer for translation. Upon hearing my request in Thai, they both giggled and spoke with the bi-lingual customer between gasps. I didn’t really need the translation. I could hear what they were saying through the language barrier:

“Crazy Farang (Thai word for foreigner), he thinks he can buy an airplane ticket here. What’s wrong with tourists these days?”

The patron was a little kinder in notifying me that they could not do that here and I may have made a mistake. I left dejected.

I called the airline back to find that there are special “PLUS” 7-11’s that accept payments for utility bills and many other things. She gave us the location of a 7-11 PLUS around the corner, literally 100 yards away. I paid for the tickets, received a 7-11 receipt as my confirmation of payment and mentally skipped (There is no way to actually skip, as a man without getting beaten-up during mid-skip.) back to the guest-house. My phone beeped again. Nok Air sent me, via SMS, a final confirmation of my payment, just 3 minuets ago, at 7-11. WOW!!! The next day we arrived at the airport, gave the check-in counter attendant our passports and 7-11 receipt in exchange for boarding passes that looked very much like a 7-11 receipt. I received one more SMS after checking in for the flight, just to wish me safe travels. I was truly amazed by the ease of the process and the level of nearly free, automated customer service that provided a sense of comfort and security. The plane was nothing fancy; this is a budget airline, like a big bus with wings, but the flight was flawless.

Every one of you who has ever flown on a commercial flight will know the familiar sight of taxi and limo drives standing at the airport exits bearing signs with names of special people who will be whisked off to resorts or conferences. I have walked by those patient people so many times wishing that I was a special person. This time we were. If you have never had the experience, it is one that I highly recommend. It is a special feeling to search those signs knowing that your name is there, that someone is waiting, just for you. When my eyes saw that sign and I gave a knowing nod to the waiting driver, my heart jumped a beat. We were escorted to the waiting car, sat in the back, and we were off. No haggling with taxi drivers over the fare, no waiting in line, just pure bliss. Sitting in the back we were offered jasmine scented washcloths, which were kept cool in an ice box, to refresh our faces and hands. Then my favorite question of the day:

“Would you like a cold beer or some tea for the ride? It will be about twenty minutes before we arrive at the resort.”

Anissa and I toasted Travis Trask as we sat back and enjoyed the ride.

Upon arriving at the resort we were escorted upstairs to the open-air reception, we sat down on a lounge and were again offered a fresh jasmine cloth and a cold drink while the check-in procedure was handled. We sipped our drinks and toasted Travis again while all the formalities were handled at a desk not far away. The view was spectacular: Jungle, green hills, and valley gave way to the beautiful deep blue Andaman Sea. Now fully refreshed, we were driven up the hill to our Villa. I say Villa because there is no other word to describe the accommodation.

Stepping into our Villa was just like coming home to our dream house. We walked in past the courtyard pond, complete with lotus flowers blooming, and were amazed. The tour of our home included the spacious living room, kitchenette, huge bedroom, and dream bathroom. Then, if we weren’t impressed enough, we stepped out to the back private patio to find our own, private swimming pool. The whole complex was bigger than our first home, nearly 1400 sq. ft. of living space. The pool was as big as your average backyard pool with an infinity edge that carried the eye unobstructed to the blue sea in the distance.

Anissa and I danced and giggled around the place, after the attendant had left, of course. We were in heaven! This would aid her recovery in so many ways. It was just about dinner time when we settled in. We opened the in-room dining menus to find delicious international cuisine at our fingertips. The prices were perfect, no seventeen dollar grilled cheese sandwiches here. We ordered dinner and relaxed.

On the website for Phuket Pavilions, they mention that you can enjoy the pool and sun without getting those pesky tan lines. I was a little concerned that we would be staying in a clothing optional resort. What I realized on that first morning after arrival was that each Villa has its own private pool and is designed so that your space is completely private, no one can see into to your Villa or pool (unless they have a helicopter hovering overhead). After a little coxing, Anissa and I spent the next few days swimming in the sun, without getting our suits wet once.

We ate great food, we slept on a perfect bed, and we lounged in front of the TV to catch up on world events. Anissa recovered as we relaxed. We only left the Villa to share a meal with our host, Scott. We were in paradise. After nearly five months of travel on-the-cheap this was just what we needed. I am positive that we will never have an experience so great that starts with a trip to our local 7-11.

Cheers
Rion and Anissa


Phuket Pavilions Contact Information:

Phuket Pavilions31/1 Moo 6, Cherngtalay, Thalang,Phuket 83110 Thailand
reservations@phuketpavilions.com
Tel: +66 (0) 7631 7600 Fax: +66 (0) 7631 7601 

posted by Rion and Anissa @ 1:46 AM 2 comments links to this post   

Landmines, Corruption, and Malaria... Oh My

When I was a little skater punk of thirteen, trying to break my neck on our homemade half-pipe with punk anthems playing on the boom-box, I knew every word to the Black Flag song “Holiday in Cambodia”. I can still remember the chorus chanting: ‘Holiday in Cambodia’ in a scratchy gothic-punk yell, but that is all I can really remember of the song. I have a vague idea that it was a dark satirical look at land-mines and the Khmer Rouge and that it would be a great place to visit. Flash forward twenty-one years – here I am. I love this place. Sure, the last fifty years have been a little rough here; French colonialism, Vietnam War, Khmer Rouge genocide, governmental corruption, et al… Even considering all that recent strife, Cambodia is an amazing, friendly place to be traveling.

We escaped the madness and sadness of Phnom Penh for the rural cities a few days ago and headed to Kratie (Kra-che). Kratie is a little city in the central north-east of Cambodia which has two main distinctions. First, the town is the most well preserved French Colonial example in the region owing to the fact that, although it changed hands regularly during the many wars, it was usually taken first and without much force. We didn’t really get to see much of the town because the second distinction kept us busy the one full day we had in the town. The second and more amazing distinction that Kratie bears are the very, very, need I say very again, rare, freshwater dolphins. Kratie is home to the Irrawaddy dolphin.

Nearly everybody in the English speaking world knows about salt water dolphins, Most have seen reruns of ‘Flipper’ on Nick-at-Nite (some of you may have seen the first run…) and some have been to Seaworld (or the equivalent theme park) to see the Bottlenose dolphins jump and twirl through hoops, but very few of us are aware of (fewer still have seen) freshwater dolphins. There is a very good reason for disparity. Freshwater dolphins are only found in two places in the entirety of the planet: the first being the Amazon river of South America and the second, surprise, South-East Asia. The other reason most of us are unaware of these little creatures (3-5 feet long) is that there are so few left living here on this planet. In the entire freshwater systems of South-East Asia there are only one hundred individuals left. Just north of Kratie in the Mekong River, nearly two-thirds of the population is concentrated, estimated at between sixty and seventy-five little swimmers. This is why Anissa and I spent seven hours and five dollars and ten cents on a Cambodian bus ride.

We arrived in Kratie in the early afternoon and were ushered into a local hotel by a couple of very nice touts. If you are not aware of what a tout is, a tout is a person that makes a commission to herd, wrangle, court, persuade you into staying in a specific hotel. They are rewarded with a commission that you usually pay through inflated room prices. Sometimes this service, or hassle, is worth the additional dollar a night. Mr. Tel, as in William we were told, was the tout that helped us arrange for our accommodations in Kratie. We were able to negotiate our room rate to fourteen dollars (US), which was a very reasonable rate for the very nice, new hotel where we stayed for two nights. After checking in, Anissa and I were offered a tour package to visit the dolphins and a few pagodas we wanted to see, at an inflated price. Of course, feeling adventurous, we rented a Honda 100cc Scooter for five dollars to make the tour self guided and fifteen dollars cheaper.

We arrived at the dolphin sanctuary just before lunchtime and had a pleasant surprise of seeing Jared. Jared is a cultural anthropologist doctoral candidate from the US that we met the night before at dinner who is bumming around Cambodia for the summer, looking for a place to spend the next two years working on his doctoral thesis studying the effects of ethnic tourism. We charted a long-tail (small wooden boat with a long outboard shaft for the propeller) together for a two hour trip on the Mekong to see the dolphins.

We could not have ordered a more perfect day if given the weather menu from God and asked to order ala carte. The sky was blanketed with tall cotton-ball stacks of clouds, a cool breeze was blowing off the Mekong, and the air smelled sweet like fresh rain on a spring morning. We boarded our long-tail and chugged out to the deep water. All three of us had a palpable anticipation as we slowly moved across the river to the deepest pools of nearly sixty feet or more. The anticipation was due to the rarity of this mammal and the belief held by all three of us that we may be some of the very last humans to see this little shy creature before it disappears from the planet. In 2004, twelve of the calves born that season were found dead along the shore. All twelve had birth defects caused by the industrial waste polluting the Mekong from Cambodia and up stream from China. Most people give the Irrawaddy dolphins ten to twenty years before there are no more left anywhere in the known universe.

After a short journey, we heard the tell-tale sound of expression from the blowhole of a dolphin. Then off in the distance, about a football field away, there was a little glint of sun reflected off the back of an Irrawaddy dolphin. Our driver kept us parallel to the sighted dolphin and continued upstream. Once were past the sighted spot by three- or four-hundred yards the driver cut the engine and allowed us to float in the river in silence waiting for another sighting. It didn’t take long and there were four or five little guys swimming around our boat popping up for a breath then diving again. It was a magical experience. After two hours of floating downstream then firing the engine to crawl back upstream to float through the dolphin pool again we headed for shore. We had one more stop scheduled for the day, the hundred-column pagoda from the 16th century, about twenty-five kilometers further up field.

Jared joined us as we put-putted our scooters through villages on the Mekong to the pagoda. As we passed the little houses on stilts, children would run out, jump up and down, and yell “Hello,” in perfect English, at the top on their lungs. This didn’t just happen once or twice. This happened at nearly every house we passed. The adults were a little different. There are not a lot of tourists that make it this far from town, but those who do are usually on the back of a scooter (Moto), driven by a local with a little darker skin. So, to see two scooters with white people driving must have been quite a surprise if the look on the adults’ faces was any proof. Each time we passed an adult the look was as if they just saw an elephant riding a unicycle and juggling puppies ride down the street. Then, we would smile and a smile would spread like the sunrise across their faces. We stopped about half way to the pagoda for a little refreshment, a local treat, if you will. All over the country we have seen these little, metal wheeled mashing devices and wondered what they were used for. We pulled over to the side of the road and sat down for a cold glass of fresh pressed sugarcane juice over crushed ice. The drink is sweet and cool with a natural hint of citrus. So refreshing!

We made it out to the pagoda a few minutes later. The pagoda was beautiful, having been restored in 1993 after being ravaged by the Khmer Rouge in the late 1970’s. Jared speaks a little Khmer and was able to translate for the monks as we were toured around the Wat. Through Jared we learned the history of the Wat and of the reconstruction that had been done over the last decade. The afternoon was getting late so we setoff back to the little town of Kratie. On the way back to town the children ran out into the streets and danced and screamed “Bye” as we headed down the road to a well needed rest.

That evening we met with Jared and some other new friends for a few beers and to recount the day’s adventures. We all agreed that Cambodia is an amazing county and our tourist dollars, your tourist dollars, are well spent here to help this recovering country protect its natural resources and provide renewed hope for the children of this generation. A Holiday In Cambodia? Yes, filled with hope, love, adventure, and pleasure, then wrapped up in a chocolate bow with a glass of sugarcane juice on the side.

Put the place on your lifetime to-do list.

Cheers from Cambodia

Rion and Anissa 

posted by Rion and Anissa @ 2:44 AM 0 comments links to this post   

Ways to Help in Cambodia NGO Info

Thanks for reading my last post about the children here in Cambodia. Today, Anissa and I spent the afternoon with a Christian missions group from the USA working with the kids in the Kompong Cham Province. It was a fun-filled afternoon of games, crafts, skits, and language barriers broken by laughs and smiles from everybody. It reminded me of my high school years when I would go with our local church to Mexico to lead vacation bible school. We always had the greatest intention of teaching the kids, but inevitably we would learn more than the kids about love and how to be at peace with what you have. I worked the games and Anissa played photographer. Thanks so much to the Free Methodist group for inviting us to come for some fun.

As promised, I have gathered some information about NGO’s working here in Cambodia if you would like to get involved. The two local Phnom Penh organizations are restaurants where we ate.

Non-Religious Groups:

Mith Samlamnh (Friends): http://www.streetfriends.org/
A great training restaurant touching the lives of over 1800 children a day based in Phnom Penh.

The New Cambodian Children’s Life Assoc.: A restaurant who’s proceeds help to support an orphanage in Phnom Penh. They need supplies and cash to continue and expand their program. Contacts:
Director - Neth Lay vieyotonle@hotmail.com or nccla007@yahoo.com
Asst. Director - Phang Ier touch_mompounnary@yahoo.com

Krousar Thmey (New Family): http://www.krousar-thmey.org/
An organization based in Cambodia, reaching out to children across the country.

Religious Groups:

International Child Care Ministries: http://www.childcareministries.org/
A US based, sponsor-a-child program working in Cambodia as well as over twenty other countries.

World Vision International: http://www.worldvision.com/
One of the most well respected sponsor-a-child programs in the world. Based in the US and working in many countries around the world.


If I run across any more that I really like I will post them here. If you are currently working with a program please send me some basic information and I will post it.

Cheers

Rion 

posted by Rion and Anissa @ 2:33 AM 0 comments links to this post   

I Believe The Children Are Our Future...Treat Them Well...

Quick, grab a phone and call your favorite NGO (non-governmental organization) operating in Cambodia and sponsor a child, now. I know we have all seen Sally Struthers on TV beg and plead for “The cost of a cup of coffee a day” and wondered how many children would be saved if she stopped eating the supplies and lost a few pounds. I have changed the channel each time one of these commercials appeared pleading for money. I am guilty of turning a blind eye and having a hard heart, thinking that donating my hard earned money to one of these organizations will only line their pockets and pay for more TV ads. I never believed that a few dollars a week could help anybody. I have never personally been anywhere that really needed the help, until now. I can tell you with firsthand knowledge that $30 a month is a great wage. The staff at the guest-house where we are staying make just that wage and they are living well in middle-class Cambodian life. I can tell you firsthand that the price of going to primary school is six dollars (US) a month. I can tell you firsthand that I have had my heart broken watching the kids here on the streets.

Anissa and I ate dinner in a little café the first night and watched as child after child came to beg for money or try to sell something. Usually, they are selling fresh-cut flowers or popular books that have been copied on high quality copiers. We were offered the latest edition of any Lonely Planet South-East Asia guidebook for three dollars (US). I tried to hold firm and not buy anything because I already have nine pounds of books in my backpack. I did cave when I was offered “First They Killed My Father,” which is the story of a young girl’s survival through the Khmer Rouge years. I paid three-fifty for that book which is selling in the airports for twenty-four ninety-nine. Yes, it is a copy and I felt another pain of guilt at stealing money from the author by buying a pirate book (not a book about pirates, though).

I have been to Mexico many, many times, seen how the children are groomed from birth for begging or street hawking; these are not the same type of kids. Anissa and I have seen the same kids over and over again in the last few days. We even made a new friend in Ryna, a boy of fourteen who speaks very good English, but spends his days selling pirated books because he can’t afford to go to school. For each book they sell they keep fifty cents (US) and might sell a book a day if they are lucky. Some of the kids give that money to the family fund because Mom and Dad can’t find work, others are saving money to go back to school, because their family cannot afford to send them and there are yet others who use the money to support a glue-sniffing habit or something equally destructive.

I am truly lost as to how to express the need that is here in Cambodia. Anissa and I are looking into an NGO to send our support through. Until then we won’t give money to the kids and we don’t plan on buying anything from them on the street, but each day we are here we will help somebody. Yesterday, we purchased an American dictionary for a young man who is so determined to better himself that, although he is an unemployed orphan living with relatives here in Phnom Penh and can’t afford school, he sits on the river-front engaging English speaking foreigners in conversation to learn to speak better English. Today, we invited Ryna to join us for breakfast and lunch at our treat (Breakfast was $2.50, lunch was $1.00). We know we can’t help everybody, we would break ourselves trying, but we can’t let these beautiful humans go unnoticed and discarded.

If you are already regularly helping somebody outside your day-to-day life, you are better than us. If you are not yet helping, here is your challenge: find a place to help, somewhere, anywhere with what ever you can. I would really like to believe that if one of you, my friends and good acquaintances, had told me that my dollar-a-day would really and truly help a life, I would have done something sooner. Well here I am, my friend, telling you that; For the cost of a cup of coffee a day (regular Denny’s black coffee) you can change a life; for the cost of a Starbucks latte you can help three (Tall), four (Grande), or five (Venti) kids a day. If you don’t know where to start, World Vision is a very good Christian organization that has an office a block from our hotel. http://www.worldvision.com/ I will post some others later.

Thanks for listening at Rion's Soap Box.com

Rion

posted by Rion and Anissa @ 5:55 AM 1 comments links to this post   

Rion's Rant No. 732: Airline (In)Secutiry

I am sitting here in the Singapore airport waiting to board a flight to Cambodia marveling at the ease of air travel outside the USA. If you haven’t traveled on an airplane within the US in this post-911 arena then you may not quite identify with all I am about to say, but read on for some enlightenment. The USA has the most intrusive security screening process, not the most secure, of anywhere in the world. First, you show your government issued photo ID to a person who is paid a bonus for never smiling and who has their wages docked each time they say “thank you” or any other such pleasantries. Next, you stand in a line for the x-ray machines which is longer than the line for Disney Land’s Space Mountain in the middle of spring break. While waiting in this line you are encouraged, by the non-emotive staff, to remove personal items from your body like belt, shoes, keys, loose change, metal pins in your joints, your wallet, jacket, coat, business suit, tie pin, tongue piercing and any thing else that might set off the metal detector. If you enquire if it is OK to leave your shoes on they always say “You are welcome to, but if the metal detector beeps we will need to perform a body cavity search before you are allowed to board the plane.” To speed through security I suggest you wear a white cotton Toga, go commando style (sans underwear), and are barefooted with a carry on of a clear plastic bag. The fun really begins when you arrive at the metal detector.

The new grumpy staff members then ask you to put all the items you have removed into little plastic bins, like the ones they use to pile high with dirty plates at your local dining establishment, then remove every electronic thing from your carry-on and set it into a bin separately from your jacket or bags or anything else. It is not uncommon to have a train of four to five bins for business travelers traveling alone. Once this is complete you should be standing with your pants, sans belt, around your sock covered shoeless ankles, hands in the air, showing that they are empty, waiting to be waived through the all-seeing-all-knowing-all-sensing gates. You are a true and good soul if you make it through the detector without a beep, but you are not out of the woods yet. There is still the frantic redressing at the conveyer belt while bins filled with other peoples stuff bang and crash into yours, pushing you with urgency to get dressed and get out. Then it happens, a tap on the shoulder, “Sir, I am going to have to swab your laptop, please come with me.” You shuffle behind this guy who has your laptop; your shoes are still untied, your belt is half-way through your belt loops and the strap form your carry-on is in your teeth because you have both hands full with you wallet, wrist watch, forty-nine dollars in cash, boarding pass, a dollar seventy-three in change, and your pocket lint that you put into the little bin but didn’t feel right about leaving there. Now you are watching this guy wipe a little piece of cloth all over your laptop, giving it a better cleaning than you ever have, and he pops the cloth in to a Mr. Wizard, wiz bang machine and waits for the results. “No explosives residue on your laptop, sir, you may proceed to your gate.” Whew, thank God you don’t work in a fireworks factory; try explaining that. Now you can run off to your gate to board your plane. You are running because it took you an hour and fifteen minuets to get through security and you could only get to the airport a hour and a half before your plane took off, silly you.
True this is a slightly exaggerated look at the security in the USA right now, but I really do mean slightly. All of the things I mentioned above are just embellished, not fabricated. The real truth is not very funny; the reality of octogenarians getting patted down like criminals is not funny. When I was traveling back to the US in November 2004 from a holiday in Nice, France, I had to change planes in Frankfort, Germany for the flight into Los Angels, CA. Changing planes is usually a very easy task; you get off one plane, stretch your legs for an hour or so then get on the other plane; not so fast this time. After finding my new gate on the TV screens I sauntered in that general direction, then, much to my surprise, there was a security check point. I looked around to check if I had made a wrong turn. I was already in a Sterile Area, defined as past passenger screening, or so I thought. I had already been screened in France, I remember because the French screener had commented on my very nice carry-on consisting of nine bottles of French wine, two bottles of Italian Grappa, and a bottle of Absinthe; there was no reason for me to be screened again. I had to stop and ask at the information desk if I was going the correct direction. I was informed that in this post-911 world the USA was insisting that anybody traveling to the USA be screened by USA trained S.S. (security screeners). I stood in line and watched the efficient American trained German grope and touch each passenger over their entire body, then have all their personal property placed in x-ray machines to be scanned again. Now it was my turn. I stood with my legs parted, arms straight out to my sides staring ahead as I was first searched with a metal detecting wand, then patted over my entire body. I want to be very clear about this; I was touched in places my preacher told me only my doctor or my wife could touch and one place my wife won’t even touch. This was done with German efficiency and true professional detachment by a person of the same sex, but it was humiliating and demoralizing. I was embarrassed to be an American. I was humiliated for each person visiting America with this being their first contact with our government and our new way-of-life — fear. In May, 2005 I was traveling back to America from London and security was not nearly as humiliating but it was still much more intense than any of the regional flights I had taken as part of that trip.

Now, here is the great contrast. I had been traveling for business and pleasure in the USA right up to my departure in March this year; the experience parodied above is based on those trips. Since I have left the USA this year, I have flown from New Zealand to Australia, from Australia to Singapore, and now I am in flight from Singapore to Cambodia. Security has been tight, well run and, pause for effect, not unpleasant. I have yet to remove my shoes or belt once. When I present my boarding pass and ID to the checkpoints it is handed back with a “Thank you, enjoy your flight.” I have not seen one grandmother being patted down like she was being arrested. Most important to note about this experience is that I feel safe and secure, without a doubt as safe as if I was in the USA being strip-searched before my flights.

My real point in all this is that so often in America we feel we have to do something, anything, even if only for a placebo effect. In doing so, we don’t address the problem effectively, we waste resources, and we stress systems that can barely deal with any more stress. Our airlines can barely afford to give us ½ oz bags of pretzels and 3 oz. of soda on a four hour flight because of the additional expense of operating in this post-911 world. Here is my challenge to you my reader; Go buy the Orwellian classic “1984” and read the whole book. You may have read it before, but, read it again — you need a refresher. Pay attention to what is going on around you and stop giving up our freedoms to fear. Make sure you are registered to vote. When you leave the store, stop, take three minutes of your day and read the petitions being passed around, and, if you believe in the proposal, sign it. Find a place to make your voice heard. Our world, our America, does not have to become a police state for us to feel safe. It’s time to land in Cambodia now and the pilot has asked that all electronics be stowed for a safe landing; no shoe bombs, no hijackers and no stress.

Cheers from over the South China Sea.

Rion

P.S. Tomorrow is the Fourth of July, which might explain my current overdeveloped sense of notional awareness. Let Freedom Ring!

P.P.S. The pictures are 1) The small Merlion at singapore harbor 2) the entry to our hotel in Singapore 3) Our room in Phnom Penh, Cambodia for coutrast. 

posted by Rion and Anissa @ 6:05 AM 1 comments links to this post   

No, Virginia, There are No Street Noodles

I must say that I am more than a little pissed off! I feel as if I have been duped, lied to, laughed at, and then spat upon. This hurts worst than finding out that a fat man in a red suit with a cookie habit did not bring me a Big Wheel when I was six. I will picket outside P.F. Changs to let the whole world know; there is no such thing as Singapore Street Noodles.


Anissa and I arrived here in Singapore with just a few goals for our three days. Get acclimatized to the heat. See the Zoo. Eat some real Singapore Street Noodles. It will take more like three lifetimes for Anissa and me to come to terms with the heat. We did spend an amazing day yesterday at the Singapore Zoo. The last on the list was Street Noodles.
We looked around the town for the last two days; visiting Chinatown, where we received a Buddhist blessing for our travels, Little India, Orchard road, we even asked at the visitor’s center if the noodles were known under a different name here in Singapore. We were stumped!

Singapore Street Noodles are a medium spicy food of very thin noodles, like angel hair pasta, in a yellow curry, with meat and veggies. The noodles are usually lightly wok fried giving them a crisp crunch to the parts that don't become soaked with the curry. The best way I know to eat them is to fill a bowl, lift the bowl to your lips and use chop sticks to shovel them in. Yum!


Back at the hotel, Anissa Googled Singapore Street Noodles and Singapore restaurants. The results came back very disappointing. It turns out that the noodles are in the company of Fortune Cookies and breast implants as favorite things of Americans that are everywhere, but very far from being authentic.

Cheers from Singapore

Rion

posted by Rion and Anissa @ 5:52 AM 0 comments links to this post