Bangkok, or What am I going to do with all this dong?

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am in the Bangkok airport.  At an internet terminal.  Because I'm on my way to Bangalore and have a 6-hour layover.  And I'm bored.

 

Oh, and the @#$%ing money changer wouldn't change my Vietnamese dong into anything.  Not even a paper crane.  She looked pretty content with herself, too--here's a transcript:

 

ME: ...so you can't change my dong?

HER (grinning as if she was about to tell me it was raining ice cream): Nope!

ME: What am I going to do with all this dong?

 

The moral of the story: Use your dong in Vietnam.

The offer: if anyone has any use for my 200,000 dong (~$12 US), let me know.  I can arrange the transfer of the goods (dong).

 

Adios!

 

 

Hanoi-Hou!

I'm not done with Hanoi.  I'm leaving for India tomorrow morning, but I'm entirely convinced I'm not yet ready to leave here.  I haven't tasted enough of this city.  I haven't yet been engulfed by it and emerged from it with a new understanding.  I haven't met enough locals.  And I have a feeling Hanoi's not done with me.

 

Moreover, I'm not done with this trip.  Don't get me wrong--I want to go back home.  I am tired of living in hostels and guesthouses.  I did splurge on the last night here--I'm staying at the Hilton Hanoi Opera--and had a real, hot shower for the first time in a long while.

 

But I'm not done.  There's so much I have left to learn.  About myself.  About what I want. 

 

I need to be more in tune with the culture here.  I need to spend more time on the street here.  I need to learn some Vietnamese.  I need to understand why people here (Vietnam only) try to screw me every way they can--and why at the end of the day it really shouldn't bother me.  Because 10,000 dong is the equivalent of 66 cents.

 

In the last month and a half I've learned a thousand and one things about myself.  Came out of God-knows-how-many shells.  Knocked down a million walls.  Talked to--IDENTIFIED with a jillion people.  Listened to stories.  Listened to tales.

 

But mostly tales told by Western people.  People who spoke English.  There are more stories to hear--understandings to, well, understand.  Layers to dig through the people who are trying to sell you "moto ride"; "cold drink"; "boom boom".  More time needed.  More compassion needed.  Less American arrogance needed.

 

As I think about going home, I'm excited--but I see the walls coming back up.  The shells, I believe, have been crawled out of permanently--but the materialism will come back.  When you're out here on your own you realize how much you really need.  And how much it is you just want.  Then you go home; you indulge your wants; you live your life.

 

And I'm going to start the process of going home tomorrow, via India.  I'm going to go home.  Indulge my wants.  Live my life.  Maybe.

Wat Contribution?

Greetings from Siem Reap, Cambodia--home of Angkor Wat, the magnificent Hindu/Buddhist temples in the jungle!  I've been here for two days.  Seen the Wat.  Dealt with the really annoying tourist-sales population "you want to buy t-shirt?  no?  you want to buy cold drink?  ok, $1.00 for Coke can."  Yes, and I've been royally screwed by tourist prices.

 

But that's not wat I'm writing about.

 

I'm writing about an idea that I'd like to bounce off you folks.  See, our nice President has generously guaranteed aid money for Africa this year.  $42 million of it, I believe.  A pittance.  To be fair, I have yet to read what exactly the aid will be for--details to be addressed.  Anyway, the fact that the amount Mr. Bush wants to give is so trivial--especially in comparison to what the USA spends on other things--got me thinking.

 

Corporations sometimes match their employees' donations.  So why don't we match Mr. Bush's donation?

 

So here's the idea.  Set up a website, something like matchthepresidentsdonation.com, that is simply dedicated to raising $42 million in aid for Africa, with 100% of the proceeds going to whatever organization the Federal money goes to.  Get some media coverage.  Get the word out.

 

The objective?

1) Show what a pittance $42 million is, and encourage Mr. Bush (and our Congress) to dig a little deeper.

 

2) Contribute to the African aid efforts.  Any of them.  All of them.

 

Whaddaya think?

Feelin' all sultan-y

So I have a strong feeling that my taxi driver from the Brunei airport was, in fact, deceased.  Dude barely moved.  He looked dead when I got off the plane and into the cab.  And he spoke a mangled dialect of some unintelligible language, as well.

 

One-foot-in-the-grave cab drivers aside....I have nothing to say about this place that wouldn't get its team of internet censors to come after me.  Suffice it to say, the first thing I did upon landing here, changing some dinero, and checking in to my hostel, was buy a ticket out.  For tomorrow.  To Bangkok.

 

I KNOW, I haven't posted in a while--but I've been having such a great time!  Started in Singapore, went on to Melaka (Straits of Malacca, anyone?), then on to Kuala Lumpur--which was gritty at first, but totally ROCKS.  Hung out with some Australians and Americans there until 5 AM one night.  Checked out some natural limestone caves, checked out the city.  Ate pepperoni pizza at Pizza Hut (all halal--BEEF!).  Continued on to Borneo (Kota Kinabalu).  Kind of stagnated there for a couple days.  Hung out with a cool American chick and a dude from the UK last night.  Then came here today (breathe).  On Royal Brunei Airways.

 

That was an experience in itself.  Starting with the funky desert-arab style headdresses worn by the flight attendants (but only before departure!).  And the odd, inexplicable atmosphere inside the plane.  Continuing with the Arabic prayer recited on the tv screens and the intercom before takeoff.  And followed by the empty, empty Brunei airport. 

 

Yeah, weird.  Like this place.  More later.  Off to see the Brunei sights in the less-than-24 hours I have left in this godforsaken place.

Aloha, Hawai'i (sniff)...

I'm here at Honolulu International (Airport, that is...not hot dogs) and am about to head out to Singapore!  I just checked in, and when the lady at the counter asked me if I wanted to be in the "upper deck" of the 747...oh baby, oh baby.  I could have married her.  Twice.

 

Yes, after 2.5 weeks in Hawaii, I'm a little bored.  Don't get me wrong, it's a great place.  Big Island totally rocks.  But is waaay too quiet.  Volcanoes National Park is flat out amazing.  (I have some great pictures of "hot liquid magma" that I'll post soon.)  And Maui (was there for a few days) is nice, too.  With grumpy people.  But way cool hostellers.  I met these two Irish folks who were way cool.  And their names?  Sinead and Connor.  Yeah.

 

So yeah, Hawaii starts to look the same after a few weeks.  And the names--Weiulani, Haleakala, Pu'unani (yes, you heard that right)....kinda hard to get around when ever street name either a) ends in 'ani, or b) is Kamehameha!

 

That's all for now--I'll holla soon!