Cambodia

Since I last wrote, I have done a 6 hour "trek" in Sapa, (which turned out to be more of a walk downhill, then a bus picking us up and taking us back), been back to Hanoi, flown to Phnom Penh and have now spent three days in Siem Reap.
Sapa was such a beautiful place, but I do not feel I have much to write about it; it was almost a week ago now and the details are fading. The curse of infrequent blogging. I know now with even more certainty how much I favour countryside. Cities make me feel disconnected, anonymous and lost, but I always feel a sense of connection with a beautiful landscape or open spaces. I detest the confinement of city life, but I know I will be living in one for a while when I get back.
So from Sapa we caught another sleeper train back to Hanoi to once again (for the last time) take advantage of Tuan's abundant generosity. We spent one more night in Hanoi, where we found a Vietnamese vegetarian restaurant, before heading to Phnom Penh, which is strikingly similar to Hanoi, if only quieter and far hotter. I would be lying if I said I overly enjoyed Phnom Penh, but it was a jump off point, and a place to witness some of the most brutal attrocities in human history. We visited the killing fields and S-21 prison, both of which were used by the Khmer Rouge during Pol Pot's reign and both of which are testaments to the unfathomable cruelty and oppression of mankind. I could not comprehend how this had all happened so recently and no other country did anything to try and stop it. Just a shame Cambodia doesn't have any oil stores or you could be assured that some world power would have intervened, but it displays both the self interest and the lack of empathy of so much of the world. I have visited Auschwitz and Dachau, and S-21 prison was comparable to both, however I understood it less. I couldn't comprehend any sort of reasoning behind killing one's own people. With the Holocaust, there was a racial issue, but the Pol Pot regime was simple brutality of the most despicable kind. While in Phnom Penh, we had the privilege of sharing dinner with one of the chief prosecutors in the Khmer Rouge trial, and once again, as seems to be the theme of our trip so far, he and his wife were overly generous and very hospitable, buying us dinner and instilling some words of wisdom.
It is now our third day in Siem Reap, and we have both taken a liking to the atmosphere of the place. Our original booking was for one night, which has since been extended to four, due in no small part to the hospitality of the hotel we are staying at, The Golden Mango. They know us by name and say "Good morning Tom and David" and "enjoy your rest Tom and David" and "Good night Tom and David", and generally make us feel at home.
Siem Reap is only a few kilometers from the splendourof the temples of Angkor. If there are two things Cambodia is famous for, it is the Khmer Rouge and the Angkorian temples, and the majesty of the latter almost counteracts the sobering nature of the other. We paid our new friend Panha $16 to drive us around the temples in his tuk tuk from 4:30 am to about midday taking us to the otherworldly temples of Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom and Ta Promh as well as many others. I simply could not comprehend the age and magnificence of them. They are a gateway into another time, almost lost but for the remnants and ruins. While the temples are all meticulously maintained, they have not lost any of their proud tradition, and the centuries of history have taken their toll on Angkor, not in the pejorative sense. The signs of aging add to their allure and mystique and paint a picture of a past which could so easily be forgotten. The ubiquitous Angkor Wat is everywhere in Cambodia. It is a country with such a bloody recent history, yet takes so much pride from their ancient civilisation. It is on their flag, their beer and across the chest of most tourists, however it was Bayon and Ta Promh which I found the most amazing. Ta Promh has been allowed to be englufed by the jungle and is at once a testament to the power of man and an homage to the power of nature. Trees grow from stone and is it impossible to separate the two. No one element is prevailing. It is beautiful co-existence. Bayon is a temple, constructed exclusively from numerous enigmatic grinning faces, and is perhaps the most impressive, if not the most beautifully perculiar of all the Angkorian temples. Cambodia is a country of highs and lows and the two juxtapose each other. There is an undeniable lack of elderly people in Cambodia, proof of the magnitude of the Khmer Rouge reign and it is a sobering fact to the think of the blood shed and life loss. It is so easy to think of deaths only as a number, but when an individual is made just that, an individual, it makes it so much more real. The exact number of people who died under the Khmer Rouge is very different depending upon source, but ranges from one million to three million. It is almost impossible to think that those were three million daughters, sons, fathers, mothers, husbands, wives.
There are other more trivial things I could write about our time in Siem Reap, like our affection for Pub Street and our love of Khmer Curry, but they all seem so insignificant in comparison to the two polarities of Cambodian history.
Tomorrow we will be catching a bus back to Phnom Penh and the day after, we head north to Laos. I look forward to the next and final chapter of our Asian journey and lament the fact that we have only two and a half weeks left on this beautiful continent. When I think back in time, it has been such a quick month since I left, and it is frightening to think that we have only seven left before I fly back to reality, which is the epitome of bitter sweet, but I think by December we will be ready for routine and homeliness, and will have matured and aged beyond our years.
I am now going for a bike ride to buy bread for the 6 hour bus trip tomorrow, so I will pray to whichever deity there is to stop us getting hit by a truck.
Keep checking back for more updates.
One month down, and what an amazing experience.

Halong Bay/Sapa

I have learnt that if you have any desire to do anything on a day, you should not catch a sleeper train the night before.
We left Hanoi last night, and are now in Sapa, and after a few outings today, we now have mustered the energy to only sit in our room and watch National Geographic and then write a blog. We are exhausted, but that has not dimished our awe at the beauty of Sapa. I have always felt an affinity for mountains; I have no idea why, but I have always felt at home in the mountains, and Sapa has more than provided.
It is at this time on a trip, after three weeks, when one's travel tenacity is tested. The surrealism of travel has become the reality, and since the surrealism ahs worn off, it is lucky that I love the reality. We met two Australians on our Halong Bay tour (which I will come to), and after a few Tiger beers and long island ice teas, one of them told me that what we were doing, this eight month galavant, was "bloody stoic mate". I would never have ahd the temerity to consider what we are doing in suh self agrandising words, but the magnitude of this trip is slowly dawning on me. I always try and think of what I was doing eight months ago, and everytime I come back to the conclusion that it is an extraordinarily long time to be away from home, especially when there are so many people I miss at home, none more so than Olivia. It is incomprehensibly painful to go from a relationship that means the world to you, to traveling around the world without the person you love the most, but I must remain positive, and know unequivocally that when I get home, things will be the same and she will still feel the same, regardless of how much I may miss her.
I have gained a renewed faith in the restorative powers of nature. Halong Bay was one of, if not the, most beautiful places I have ever seen, and in every sense of the word, it was unbelievable. It acted as the best possible distraction for Tom, and I saw his demeanour change completely. The beauty of a place is not to be found in the built environment so much as in the natural environment. It exerts a profound purity. Civilisations may last centuries, however landscapes of the magnitude of Halong Bay are so ancient it does not bear comprehension, and its beauty is infinite, (I say that with baited breath, hoping that mass tourism doesn't prove me wrong).
I have also learnt that people are intrinsically altruistic, and the generosity of Tom's friend Twan has verified this to me. He has been so selfless with his time and resources that, as with Vincent and Ann, we are both forever indebted to him. He even bought Tom a dinner which he will not forget quickly and which went against everyone of my vegan ethics to be around, but for details on that, you will have to go to http://tomthetripper.blogspot.com/.
Tomorrow we are going for a six hour hike, followed by another sleeper train ride back to Hanoi for one last day in Vietnam before flying to Phnom Penh, Cambodia on Friday. Vietnam has been such a quick stop, but already I feel a connection to the people and places that I will know will draw me back soon.
Such is the life of a backpacker, in these three weeks we traveled in more sorts of transport than I would in a year at home. Bicycle, car, motorbike, ferry, kayak, junk, bullet train, sleeper train and bus, but considering where it has brought me, I am euphoric. Out the window, I have a view of this beautiful mountain range in Northwest Vietnam, home to Fansipan; the highest mountain in Indochina. Thick billows of clouds are omnipresent, but they only add to the mysticism of this beautifully hypnotic landscape.
I hope in earnest that Cambodia and Laos are even comparably enjoyable to our travels so far. Tomorrow is day 24, which means we are half way through our Asian stint, thus we are now Europe bound, however, I am by no means counting down the days, more so dreading the time when I will go from being reasonably financially stable to being another lowly backpacker.
As I have said, there are things still tying me to home, and I miss them (her) everyday, however, I must reconcile myself with the fact that I am having the trip of my life, unfortunately not with her, but one day we will. The pains of missing that badly do not go away, but they become habitual and that makes them semi-bearable.
I cannot wait to see this antiquated area tomorrow, and experience the real Vietnam, out of the city and off the tourist trail, however, that will have to wait until after a long, relieving rest.
Keep checking back for more of me whinging about missing my girlfriend and bragging about how fun traveling is.
David.

Japan - Hanoi

It has been a fair while between posts, and in that time we have been in Kyoto and doing day trips, and I have now left feeling as if I have quite an affinity with Kyoto. We travelled to Nara and saw the world's largest brass Buddah and went to Kanazawa to see some beautiful gardens and a castle, both of which proliferate in Japan. I like the idea of spending a fair bit of time in one place, not so much as to stagnate, but enough so as to develop this affinity I mentioned. Too many travelers consider the world to be a checklist of things one must see and do, however I prefer to get the feeling for a place and avoid the typical superficial visit managed by many tourists. Japan was a great experience and Tom and I are both forever indebted to Vincent and Ann for their unbelievably generous spirit. Leaving their almost felt like leaving home again, thus was the strength of their welcoming. I hope to see them again soon; my Japanese mum and dad.
The trip from Kyoto to Hanoi involved many legs and more than enough time. Kyoto-Tokyo-Narita-Hostel-Airport-Hanoi. And once we arrived in Hanoi, the travel had just begun. We were lucky enough that Tom had a contact in Hanoi to pick us up and take us to our hostel and help us plan our week here; which will be a full one.
Hanoi's chaotic nature acts to juxtapose the methodical, regimental Japanese lifestyle. It is chaos, however there is order to the chaos. I am glad for my month spend in India last year, as it more than prepared me for Hanoi, and the usual third world three lanes on a two lane road. Needless to say, by the time we got to our hostel last night, it was all we could do bring ourselves to go and get dinner, being that it was 11 pm Japan time, but we made ourselves, and were well rewarded. We splurged. $20 each, and we got more food than we could finish. Deep fried tofu, asian green vegetables, spring rolls and coconut rice, plus the meat Tom had and his reintroduction to Tiger beer, for which he was very thankful. I had a mango juice. It tasted like an Australian summer.
The hostel we are staying in is hectic, if only to mirror the life outside its doors.
We have today in Hanoi, tomorrow and Monday in Halong Bay, then Monday night we catch a sleeper train to Sapa, after dinner with Twan, Tom's friend. We stay Tuesday night in Sapa, then catch another sleeper train on Wednesday night back to Hanoi for another day roaming the streets, hopefully with better weather than today. Due to our Japanese body clocks, we are awake, showered, dressed, breakfasted, Facebooked and blogged all before the Ho Chi Minh morsoleum opens. 2 kilometer walk through ridiculous rain, or a $3 taxi. I think the taxi might get some business.
Compared to Hanoi, Japan seems so antiquated. Beautiful in its prestige, but not a place for backpackers. I loved it, however I feel our "backpacking" has only just begun. No more homeliness, no more Vince doing our washing and no more tap water and thong free showers.
The weather here is predicted to be over 30 everyday, with what appears to be mild monsoons (what a beautiful oxymoron), so I guess we will just have to hope that the rain is stronger than our sweat; lucky Jake isn't here. Too bad buddy. Tiger beer is tantalisingly cheap.
I will probably not have the time or the inclination to write again until this week of adventure is over, which I am dreading because I am so excited, so for all of you living vicariously through Tom and/or I, you better go back to your lives.
Brevity is the soul of wit, so I will leave it there until next time.

Tour de Japan

There is a universality to the beauty and sublimity of nature. Once one strips down the confines and separatism of culture, one is left with the truth of a place; the natural purity of a virgin landscape. One could be anywhere in the world. I feel as I get further and further from the city, my love of Japan strengthens. While I still love the cities and their perpetual excitement and liberating anonymity, I also love the personability and charm of rural living. I have spent the past 3 days cycling around the Japanese coastline and islands, and have seen more beauty, both natural and human than one could hope to see in an entire trip. The magnitude of the beauty of rural Japan was a shock to Tom and I; we didn't know that mere hours from the city existed an archaic Japan steeped in tradition, where the scenery is pure and the people are genuine.

I find the self sufficiency of one's own two legs and two wheels and determination as a beautifully liberating means of travel. One is not confined to train tracks or bus routes but can venture further into the heart of a place; the truth of an area.

We got to the core of Japanese culture, to the most archaic and ritualistic of traditions. We spent hours in communal baths, stripping down our clothes and inhibitions to the equality of nudity and the soothing warmth on tired legs.

We traveled 200 kilometers over three days, and I came to admire Tom's tenacity and quiet self belief. There was never a time when I sensed any hint of self doubt or incapability. My uncle traveled with us, being a Japan cycle tour operator and his abundant generosity of time and money gave Tom and I an experience we will not forget. When I expressed that there was no way I could possibly repay him, financially or with gratitude, he told me of the basis of reciprocality. There is a world community of travelers, reliant on generosity, and when this generosity exceeds one's ability to repay, it is through reciprocality that it is leveled. As he has done for me, I in turn shall do for others, and they in turn will do the same, thus is the nature of this unspoken world community.

I am now back in Kyoto and having the first day of rest for the trip so far. I have so long away that there is no reason to rush. I have seen and experienced a lot and I must now stop and reflect on it. I fear that by sitting inside on a computer and writing this, I am wasting possible time that could be spend immersed in Kyoto's culture, but I realise that writing is important to traveling. To write is to consciously think, and to thoughtlessly travel is a fruitless exercise and gains nothing. One may look but not see or listen but not hear, and through this blind, deaf travel, one takes nothing new from a place. I wish not only to take something, but to leave something behind, but this, in a country of such massive populous is a near impossible task. I wear two necklaces, each with world coins on them. I see a young boy and I realise to leave something behind does not need any grandeur. The boy is perhaps four or five years old, and very inquisitive, staring at me when I get out of the bath; an admittedly awkward experience. I don't know why, but I gave him one of my necklaces and his jubilation told me I had done the right thing. I know I will leave Japan, having made some small impact on an anonymous young boy's life, and I hope that somewhere now he is wearing it.

The day before the bike ride was a warm, clear day in Kyoto, and we took every opportunity to see as much of this ancient and beautiful city as we possibly could, though I fear, even with cycling around all day, seeing sights and sampling the culture, I have merely scratched the surface of this rich culture, and I understand why my uncle has stayed here so long. I am sure he feels, like I do, that there is always something new to see or experience, and with that thought I begin to dread the possibility of a very superficial trip; perpetually shooting through in the Australian tradition and never stopping to smell the metaphorical roses.

Temples and shrines dot the landscapes wherever one looks in Japan, and it is frighteningly easy for one to become immune to their beauty and the tradition they depict, so I have, at times had to consciously stop and appreciate what it is I am seeing and everything it represents. The centuries of history that has brought what I see from what it was to what it is. I think that aspect of Japanese culture is my favourite; the omnipresence of history and tradition in the contemporary.

I know, even as I write this, that I am speaking too much of how I feel and not enough of what I see or what I do, but when I read back on this in years to come, I will have photos to remind of what I have done, but these words will be my only reminder of how I felt.

There are aspects of home life that I miss, and there are people I long to see, but more so than it makes me homesick or makes me want to stop traveling, it assures me that when it does come time to go home, I will have people worth going home to, and things that have been worth missing. It is incomprehensible that everything back home is still going on. My parents still go to work, one more begrudgingly than than other, my girlfriend still goes to school, and I think about her daily. My nieces are growing up and it pains me everyday to be missing them grow and to fear they are forgetting me and to not know where their uncle is. Everything is the same, and that is a constant comfort and reconciles me that I am not missing out on anything, but missing people none the less.

My technological laziness prevents me from ever uploading a photo onto this blog, but I hope my words are enough.

It is raining today in Kyoto. The gardens are getting watered and there is something beautifully cleansing and purifying about rain in a city. It falls rhythmically on the roof as I sit and write and it sounds and feels like home. Tomorrow I will do something more, but today, I am content to sit and read and think about all I have seen and all I will see.

Yesterday was a long day, riding, catching trains and being on the go for 13 hours, and I am exhausted. The emotional fatigue of the Hiroshima Peace Museum still remains and it is now coupled with the physical exhaustion of the past few days.

It is all I can do force myself to continue to write, and I fear in my exhausted state that my writing will stop making sense or will stop actually saying anything, so I am going to go and settle into the quiet restfulness of my temporary home and the melancholy of the weather.

Japan's Next Top Model

Tom and I were walking near the crossing in Shibuya, one of the biggest congestions of people in the world; think Times Square in Japanese. We were minding our own business, two of the most noticeable people in Japan, just trying to blend in, when we were asked by a local how long we would be staying in Tokyo for. When we told him we were leaving to Kyoto the next day(which I will come to), he looked somewhat disappointed and told us he had been hoping we would be able to do some modeling for him in a couple of weeks. This exact encounter happened twice in the space of about 50 meters. Tom and I, confident as we were with our appearance, decided we would take this as a compliment, not as a scam.

That night, high on the elation of being deemed Japanese model worthy, we went out drinking with our three new best friends; Eagle, Patrick and anonymous. For those of you who don't know me, and are just reading my blog for no reason but to stalk me, and have no idea who I actually am, please stop now, but for those of you who do know me, you will understand the gravity of me giving up what has been a 20 month long abstinence from alcohol. Alcohol has not appealed to me since some over indulgent early teenage nights, but now, older and wiser, I deemed this, if any, the most enjoyably bizarre night to drink I would ever experience; Tom and I and three 30 year old Dutchmen in what was honestly a pretty seedy Japanese bar, Ke$ha Tik Tok pumping through the speakers. What more could one ask for in a night out? So that was our final night in Tokyo, after what was an incredible stay and a great start to the journey. We saw some beautiful things, experienced the incongruity of the Tokyo people's personable and altruistic demeanor to the frantic anonymity of city life, tasted some amazing food and mastered the Tokyo metro system. I learnt the possibility of being frugal without being stingy, and the 820 yen, 150 meter elevator ride to the viewing platform of the Tokyo Tower was proof of this. I don't want to look back on this trip in years to come and see a $10 note in my pocket and think what it could have bought me. But i now know; 820 yen buys the most amazing view of Tokyo, a city completely overwhelming and awe inspiring in its enormity, yet mind blowingly efficient. Had I have seen the view on my first night in Tokyo, I would have been intimidated by the seemingly endless lights of this incredible city, however, seeing it on my final night instilled in me a self assuredness that I had seen and experienced so much of what Tokyo had to offer. The city's vibrance and energy is simultaneously its most profound beauty and its most tiring downfall; city living is exhausting, especially as a tourist, so by 10:33 am when our train left, I was more than ready for a change of scenery and a new experience.

Coming to Kyoto has so many wonderful aspects to it; not only is it an amazing city, encompassing the majesty of Ancient Japanese culture with the newness and vivacity of modern day Japan, it is also the home of my seldom seen uncle and aunt. Being in their home, experiencing their warmth and generosity, and having them give us a personal tour of this beautiful metropolitan they now call home, has made me dread the inevitability of the return to backpacker life; the constant displacement and lack of homeliness, and that is after being away for less than a week. Kyoto so far has met and far exceeded any expectations I could have possibly held, and seeing it with family I usually have to live with/(without) only as voices on the phone or emails, has made my time here thus far even more special. Today, we have earned the home made fruit salad, waiting for us on the table when we woke up, the tofu lunch at a vegan restaurant, the soy icecream cone and the David Flanagan eggplant, pumpkin and split pea curry. We hiked up a mountain on the outskirts of Kyoto, cycled around all day (which my bottom doesn't seem to want to let me forget), walked around beautiful temples and, not surprisingly, cycled some more. Thanks to Vincent (my uncle) and Ann's (my aunt) Kyoto geography knowledge, we have now seen more of Kyoto's alleyways and backstreets than many Kyoto residents. This city really is the archetype of my expectation of Japan; it beautiful encompasses both the natural and built environments, fusing them into something more beautiful than each. The Golden Pavilion, possibly the most visited and recognisable landmarks in Japan was on our today's route, somewhere between lunch and shopping for dinner, and I realised an important lesson; that things which are tourist meccas are that way for a reason. It is stunning. I can't hope to describe the beauty of it, so I shall not let my words fall so painfully short of portraying it and instead leave it unmentioned.

As I sit here and write this now, Tom, Vincent and Ann are all in bed and I am left alone to bask in what will be one of the few nights for the next 9 months when I get to experience the simple pleasures of creature comforts and a sense of home.

On Monday, Tom, Vincent and I will be a 4 day long bike trip in Hiroshima and island hopping off the Japanese coast. From the moment Vincent suggested we could do it until now, I have been so excited to see this beautiful country in such a self sufficient way.

My bed during my time here is Vincent's massage table, which is surprisingly comfortable and as such is calling me louder and louder.

I hope since I have stayed up until 11:17 pm writing this, that someone will read it other than just Mummy, but if not, hi mum and thanks for being such a loyal fan. Love you.

Comfort and homeliness will be hard to come by this year, so I am going to go and make the most of it while I can.

Home seems like such a long way away, and I don't think that will seem any closer as the months roll on, but for now, I have Kyoto, my little port in the storm.