The Endless Summer

I've been busy over the last ten days coming down the east coast of Australia. Unfortunately, Internet is relatively expensive here making it hard to keep up with my posts, but I'll fill you in on what you've missed.

Whitsunday Islands

On a whim I grabbed a flight to Airlie Beach and met an Irish girl on the plane who hooked me up with a ride into town with the bassist from a local band. Airlie Beach itself is a small town with a marina, a mile long strip of hostels, restaurants, bars, travel agents and a small "lagoon" complex of salt water swimming pools. I checked into my "backpacker resort" (It should be noted that Aussies take this backpacking thing really seriously) which was a couple dozen buildings and self-contained cabins filled with dorm rooms amid small gardens and a small stream. The section on the main road consisted of a small office where you can book tours, a nightclub, takeout, bar and Internet cafe surrounding a couple dozen picnic tables constantly filled with people putting back morning, afternoon or evening beers. After touring Airlie (which didn't take very long, I met up with the Irish girl and her boyfriend for drinks at the Irish pub where the bassist's band was playing. Her boyfriend's a coal miner and interestingly enough, they export all there coal to China - funny that. The bar started to fill about midnight as the backpacker resort bars closed and the scene quickly started to resemble a frat party, instinct kicked in and I left. I took it easy the next day, sitting by the lagoon, stocking up on booze (to be explained later) and eventually getting dinner with a German woman I'd met at the lagoon who works in LA for FOX Entertainment.

The Airlie Beach Lagoon

Now, it should be explained, there are only a few options for entertainment in Airlie Beach:
1. Sit by the lagoon
2. Get drunk
3. Take a sailing cruise of the Whitsundays

It's that kind of town. Having thoroughly accomplished 1 & 2 I figured I should go for a sail. The bus met me at 8:00 in the morning and headed to the marina where we were greeted by Josh, our new deckhand. Josh promptly announced that:

1. It was his first day
2. They lost the captain

So far so good. Along with us were a slew of younger people waiting for the "Avitar". There were easily twice as many of them, and each of them had about twice as much booze as were did for their 3 day tour - clearly a party boat. After we found our captain (incidentally she thought she was supposed to have this cruise off and voluntarily was breathalyzed by the marine police a couple hours earlier to make sure she was sober enough to skipper - are you sensing a pattern here?) we were on our way on the "Southern Cross", an America's Cup challenger, with our 2 crew and 12 passengers. Despite the rainy weather the tour was great with a few wet sails, some snorkeling on the islands, a visit to an island resort bar and a rain forest walk. I tried sleeping on deck the first night and though the rain and wind were minor hindrances, the main problem was the echoes over the water of such classics as "Sweet Home Alabama" and "Let it Be" being hopelessly butchered by the drunken morons from the other boat sharing the cove with us. Sadly, though the islands were beautiful I took few pictures as I'd taken my camera for dead due to a plastic bag with an unknown hole, and torrential down pours. Lucky for me though, it sprang back after drying up a couple days later.

Taking in the Whitsundays


Sailing Through the Storm

Platypus Bush Camp (Warning: May not contain actual Platypus)

After Airlie I needed to decompress a bit, and give my liver a rest. I headed south on my newly purchased Greyhound bus pass to a small national park known for the wild platypus. Instead of staying in town at the hostel and taking the packaged tour to the park, I decided to stay at the highly recommended "Platypus Bush Camp" right outside the park. I was picked up at the bus station by a friendly Englishman named Bob and after picking up a case of beer for the camp we were on our way. Not before long, he was telling me his life story including his health concerns, growing up in London during WWII and every detail of all his trips to the U.S. He also filled me in on the local sugar trade as we barrelled through endless sugar cane fields at break neck speed.

Bob was a character, but only the beginning of this adventure. We wound up dirt roads and through feet deep streams running hard from the constant rain. Some places had cars lined up that refused to even try, but Bob just barrelled through saying "I don't know what there problem is," and easily conquered the flows in his little Kia. We finally pulled into the bush camp and he led me to the office to deliver the beer. We wandered down a gravel path past thick palm trees, cisterns and the wooden structures containing crude bathrooms and showers. We neared the office and I smelled a strange, yet vaguely familiar smell as smoke drifted through the palms, and then there he was. "Wazza" was his name. He was pencil thin with a big shaggy beard and clothes which looked like they didn't come off for nobody. I instantly understood what Bob meant when he told me that Wazza was what they referred to as a "bushy character".

Platypus Bush Camp

I bid Bob adieu and Wazza showed me around. I appeared to be the only person there, though I later would meet a couple guys laboring on Wazza's new timber frame house for room and board and an older guy that seemed to be a friend of Wazza's that lived there full time. I got a little cabin to myself which consisted of half walls, a roof and three small cots. There was no electricity, a small open self-cook kitchen (duly warned, I had brought my own food) and a couple entertaining cockatoos in a cage. The place sat right on the bend of a stream which raged with the high water and supposedly contained platypus, though I never saw one. With its remote location, there was wonderful wildlife all around the camp - wild cockatoos, many others birds, crazy bugs, eel-tailed catfish, flying foxes and lizards galore, but sadly no wild platypus so that dream remains unfulfilled. I spent the next two days lying low, hiking up a brilliant gorge, generally trying to stay dry and listening to Wazza ramble on about politics, ecology, the right way to cook rice, cricket and whatever else happened to be on his mind. Unfortunately, I only understood about 1/3 of what he said but that didn't adversely effect my interest level. At the end of my two night stay, Bob came back to take me in for the bus and after another entertaining hour with him I was on my way south again.

The "Wheel of Fire"


Cool Bug in the Lantern Light

Agnes Waters/Town of 1770

After an uneventful overnight in Gladstone to transfer buses, I arrived to Agnes Waters early in the morning, around 10. I hadn't had luck booking a reservation and the two backpacker places in town were booked so I ended up in a little backpacker resort outside of town. The place is great, with small cabins a big public building and a pool. After arriving, we were whisked away on a free tour of town where we were herded into the back of a troop transporter jeep and these guys drove us around and told us about the various tours we could do. Agnes water is a tiny little town with a 6 KM beach and only a few tourists - I had came here solely in search of a surf lesson cause they're the cheapest in the east. Next to Agnes Water is a town called "the Town of 1770" after the first landing of Captain Cook in Queensland. It's a silly name, but it doesn't matter much since only 100 people live there. After the tour I headed to the beach and walked the 6km down it's length, which was mostly deserted, and back. The next day I was battered around in the surf with 15 other eager participants as we took a crash course in surfing. Surfing itself seems not too hard and I got up more than a few times, but the hard part is battling the waves and trying to catch an empty wave. After two hours of learning I was battered, bruised, exhausted and didn't feel too accomplished, so for now surfing glories will have to wait for the next time.

Agnes Water Beach

My final day in Agnes was spent aboard the "Spirit of 1770" which whisked me and 149 other lucky patrons out to Lady Musgrave Island - a coral island near the far south east corner of the great barrier reef. The two hours out in the high speed catamaran mostly involved half the passengers vomiting into little plastic bags and your humble host amusing the members of the upper deck (those that weren't vomiting anyway) by getting periodically soaked and abused by ocean spray. Once on the reef we got an Island walk of the wild life, tours of the reef in glass bottom boats, a seafood lunch and plenty of snorkeling. I saw terns and turtles, held a cucumber and met Bob the monster Cod. Another form of entertainment involved the bus load of Chinese tourists (do they come in any other way? Not in my experience) enjoying the trip with us. I struck up a conversation in Chinese with an older man and then after finishing my snorkel was invited to his family's table and was quickly offered coffee and biscuits. I mainly spoke with the daughter, whose English was superior to the other's, and to make a long story short now have a place to crash in Shanghai the next time I'm through. Man, how I miss the Chinese hospitality! I finished up the cruise drinking a beer with a Hawaiian couple on the aft of the boat while a Chinese man took pictures to document our enjoyment as their family members sat nearby pale and "losing their lunch" so to speak. After bumming a ride and sneaking the Hawaiians into my hostel's pool, we enjoyed some Toohey's and grub at the local pub and exchanged stories of our various travels.

Lady Musgrave Island - Great Barrier Reef


Terns on Lady Musgrave

Apart from that, I've just been chilling in Agnes Waters as it's extremely laid back - the kind of place people just get stuck for weeks on end. My attempts at booking other tours and activities all end in disappointment due to both fully booked tours as well as cancellations from lack of interest - you just can't win sometimes - so I missed the stunt plane flight and the Kayak tour, but I've had a blast hanging out with people around the hostel, seeing the weekend scene at the local pub (including observing a drunken fight in the parking lot (g'day mate!)) and enjoying the quiet beach.

After staying two days longer than planned in Agnes I'm feeling the desire to push on. I like Australia so far and surprisingly am significantly under budget (a penny saved is a penny less in debt as they say), so I hope to extend my stay by a week before heading to New Zealand. Next on to the beautiful and secluded Fraser Island and Rainbow Beach.

Australia, Australia

The Famous Harbor Bridge Turns 75

My first task in Australia seemed a simple one - to hop a cab to Severine and Laurent's. I figured this would be easy but the cabbie spoke a language roughly equivalent to English only a bit gruffer. After leaving the airport it took a while before he understood where I wanted to go, and as we sped along he finally admitted he didn't know where it was, threw an atlas at me and said, "find it on the map." I could tell I would like Australia already. What a country!

After a silent 25 minute ride ,where I marveled at just how normal everything looked (besides the silly practise of driving on the left), he pulled up to Macauley street and announced "shite!" at the top of his lungs as he discovered it was one way. A bit startled, and awoken from my zombie-like state, I offered to walk since after 9 hours on a plane I could use a little exercise.

I rang the buzzer at the small set of flats on the quiet back street and was soon greeted at the gate by a smiling Gwen. She'd come from D.C. a couple days back and had already been enjoying what Sydney had to offer. It was 8 am and Severine and Laurent were preparing for work. They're a French couple whom lived in D.C. for about 4 years then were sneakily married in France (to the surprise of some of their friends and family) and then moved to Sydney and got new jobs (basically they're my heroes). They are also extremely gracious hosts, wonderful cooks and an all around fun couple. As proof I offer their blog which, apart from being all in French, has very nice pictures and a video showing the aforementioned craziness of the streets of Vietnam.

After a couple cups of coffee and a brief shower, Gwen and I headed downtown and jumped the ferry past the Opera house and across the harbor to munch on fish and chips, down a pint and watch the beautiful people on Manly Beach. We then did a 10 Km hike around preserved section of the harbor and finished off the evening with our hosts and a picnic and open air screening of "Jackass 2" in one of the many Sydney parks. During the movie, I felt like hiding behind a tree for shame of my countrymen, but I was too tired to resist, so I just lay in the grass and laughed my ass off like everyone else.

Looking into Sydney over Grotto Point

In a testament to my exhaustion from the overnight bus followed by an overnight plane and an exciting day in Sydney, after finally going to bed I slept for a solid 12 hours (and definitely could of slept more). This was the first time on the trip I had gotten a serious night's sleep on the trip and it felt great.

Over the next few days, Gwen and I learned about the founding of Australia, visited more beaches, went on a wonderful hike through the Blue mountains (just west of the city), cooked a gumbo feast for our hosts and shared many more fine meals with Severine and Laurent.

Bondi Beach Lifeguard Competition


The Grand Canyon - Blue Mountains


A Tree Bounces Back from the Devastating Forest Fires in the Blue Mountains


Enjoying Gwen's Near-Lethal Sangria with our Hosts

The weekend behind us, Gwen rented a car and bravely drove us through blinding rain (drought my ass), making sure to keep on the left side of the road, north up the coast. The rain stopped just long enough for a pleasant afternoon in Newcastle watching the huge waves beat up against the empty beaches and jagged rocks. I was wearing my raincoat and got some photos taken by a local journalist trying to make it "look as wet as possible" despite the fact that the rain had clearly stopped.

Waves Beating Against the Shore in Newcastle

That evening we drove inland to the Hunter Valley wine region and made it with fading light for a small drive through the picturesque countryside and then got a room above a local pub in the town of Cessnock which was run by just about the friendliest people I had ever met. We grabbed a pint and some grub downstairs at the "Swill and Grill" and then retired to prepare for our big day of wine drinking, I mean "tasting".

The next day the weather still looked questionable with huge grey clouds navigating among patches of blue sky, but we decided to forge away with our bold plan and rented a tandem bike for the day. From there on out it was wine tasting, cheese eating and awkwardly scooting between wineries on our double bike. We had some great wines, helped plunge some freshly picked Shiraz and saw a bevy of wild kangaroos. There are about 90 wineries in the lower hunter and we were lucky to get in 7, ranging from a small boutique winery where we were the only patrons to a huge operation that's sponsoring a INXS, Simple Minds and Arrested Development concert (this is not a joke - oh how the mighty have fallen, the Australians really like their 80s rock!). All day the grey clouds rolled overhead , but to our amazement it didn't rain a drop all day.

Hunter Valley Truck

Plunging the Cap of the Shiraz

After returning the bike to the small metal building nestled among some vines at the end of a short dirt driveway, we were immediately greeted by Glen, who had jumped out of a smaller metal building which looked like an office of sorts. Glen could very well be the friendliest guy ever. He told us a range of stories for an hour and a half ranging from how to become a Quantas Stewardess to getting TV press coverage for a company that didn't exist and finished up with the time he gave the PM of New Zealand a lift to the Sydney airport in his "ute" (I think that's a truck). Just when we thought he had finished, he pulled out his new wine and told us all about that. Glen says after traveling independently for a long time, you get the feeling that you can do anything, and I'd like to believe that's true and am beginning to know the feeling, and I certainly believe Glen could do anything after the stories he's told.

Friendly Glen and His New Chardonnay

The next day we headed back to Sydney, dropped the car off and Gwen headed to the airport to return to the snow covered northeast (poor girl). With all the hubbub I forgot that I still hadn't gotten a good walkabout in Sydney so after Gwen jumped in the cab I did a little tour of the harbors, the harbor bridge, the opera house and the botanical gardens (complete with huge napping flying foxes).

In my week in and around Sydney, I've really grown to love the place. It's like a big American city, but more laid back. People take the "no worries" attitude to heart and seem to enjoy a consistent and decent standard of living. The people are friendly and like to smile a lot and I must admit I like the Aussie accent on the ladies (but that's just between you and me). The natural scenery is beautiful and the beaches are great and easily accessible. there isn't much to say about the food since Australia doesn'tseem to really have its own cuisine apart from Vegemite (really salty but actually not that bad) and kangaroo (Laurent showed us the merits of this meat on the barby), but they have a great mix of food from all over the world, especially from Asia.

All in all it's been great to be back in the western world and to see old friends. I've been extremely relaxed to finally not have to worry about carrying around toilet paper and to be able to eat the food and drink the water without concern. Yesterday I hopped a plan to Airlie beach to visit the Whitsunday Islands via sailboat. I can't wait.

More pictures from Gwen.

Thailand Revisited

Sunset on the Beach Outside Kamphoan

... turns out the bus I grabbed south from Bangkok did go through Kamphoan - the small village for which I was headed - the only problem is that they didn't drop me off there. Despite being assured the driver and his assistant would alert me when we arrived around 6 am, we cruised right through as I sat half asleep propped up in my reclining chair. I eventually got worried that we'd passed it and asked the driver (asking is really an overstatement - I really just mispronounced "Kamphoan" repeatedly and stared at him). He indicated in fluent pantomime that we'd passed it and the next thing I knew I'd been kicked to the curb at the next decent sized town and the bus was off into the darkness. This was clearly not the position I wanted to be in after 23 hrs of travel and little sleep. I found the local market gearing up for the day as people brought out their fruits, veggies and freshly slaughtered livestalk and sat down and watched the sun rise over the trees as I snacked on a quick breakfast of coffee, fried dough and rice porridge with pork which, I would have finished absent my decision that pig liver, though perfectly acceptable in many instances, should never be eaten for breakfast. After 3 hours of failing to get in touch with Katie (due to a lost cell phone charger) and frustratingly asking 5 people and getting 5 different answers on how to get to Kam Phoan, I was on a bus headed back north.

Katie picked me up on here flashy pink bike (complete with Hello Kitty horn). I jumped on the seat perilously located over the back wheel with my pack and we swerved and inched forward toward her place, the locals laughing and shaking their heads as we passed (silly farang!). Before long I was napping away in a real bed and got a couple hours of blissful sleep. The next few days were great. It was such a treat to be immersed in a small village, getting to know some of the locals and customs, and eating at the local joints. We swam in a remote jungle waterfall, stayed in a bamboo hut in a small tourist beach town to the south, visited the barren and beautiful local beach and practiced my pantomiming with the local population (this made me further appreciate the little Chinese I knew for that part of my adventure). We mostly traveled by bike, doubling up to the continued amusement of the towns folk. Everywhere we went, we were followed by echoes of "Sawat Dii Kha" and "hello".

Long Live the King!

Katie is in the area researching the effect of aquaculture on the local watershed. The area lies on the west coast of Thailand and was heavily decimated by the Tsunami a couple years back. We heard stories of villages which disappeared and loved ones that were lost. It was all very sad, but encouraging to see the area was seemingly bouncing back from the disaster. We also heard of "disaster tourists" roaming the area after the event and many western volunteers wanting to help but not knowing what to do. Regardless, many positive things did come to light and one was seed money given to villagers to develop shrimp farms and muscle rafts to stimulate the local economy. Katie's job is to make sure this is done in a sustainable manner. Go Katie. (to check up on Katie, check out her blog at http://www.katiewolffinthailand.blogspot.com/)

The Thais in the town were wonderful and gave me a much better sense for the local culture than my couple days in Bangkok. Everyone was so honest and friendly. The Thai people are very very laid back. In most cases this is wonderful, but can be frustrating when, say, you're trying to catch a bus at 6 am and everyone sort of waves towards the road since they know one will come eventually. These situations can lead to the Thai's thinking that us "farang" (a term for foreigners based on a mispronunciation from French) too easily lose our cool (apart from having "evil smelling" being among our negative attributes). The Thai food is also phenomenal from the Pad Thai to the curry and various fruit and dried fish salads. I even was able to rustle up some of the delicious sticky rice I enjoyed so much in Laos. Good times, great oldies.

Harvesting Rubber


Local Birdy Going on a Walk


Enjoying the (Nearly) Private Beach in Kamphoan

I was sad to leave, but eventually had to catch another night bus north to Bangkok (groan). I got in around 5 am and reluctantly headed back to Kho San road where various folks were continuing their evenings at some of the 24 hr. cafes. By 6 I was napping in a guest house with an available bed. After I awoke, I grabbed some breakfast, visited the Royal Palace and dropped in on the Emerald Buddha, showered back at the guest house and headed to the airport. I caught my plane that evening and the next thing I knew I was upside down in the southern hemisphere - crazy world.

The Grand Palace in Bangkok


Bangkok Tuk Tuks

The trip down to southern Thailand involved a lot of lengthy travel, but was totally worth the effort and a nice way to wrap up my adventures in Asia with an old friend.

Ankor What?

I decided I had to visit Ankor Wat because everyone told me I had to, and who am I to test the will of the people? It felt a little silly visiting a country for only three days to see one thing, but who's counting? Not me anymore.

Early Tourist Catches the Cow - View into a dry moat around the ancient city

Entering Ankor Wat

Observations on Cambodia will be limited since Siem Reap is a tourist Mecca and other than that all I saw was a long bumpy dirt road through the relatively flat terrain, but I'll try a few. Cambodia, more than the other countries I've visited, has a long sorted history of tragedies of which wrapped up only recently. Cambodia remains scarred by the war in (and with) Vietnam and still feels the wounds of the years of bloody civil wars which followed, and the rise of the Khmer rouge. Cambodia has only relatively recently gained any stability and has started to put the past behind them. You get a sense from many of the people that they're a little beat up, have trouble trusting each other and still remain unsure of the future and the continuum of problems they face. As I learned at the Cambodian Landmine Museum, Cambodia ranks third in the world, behind only Iraq and Afghanistan, for deaths or injuries from left over mines or UXO (unexploded ordinances). The museum is a tasteful and informative collection of materials which fill a makeshift bamboo pavilion and courtyard which lie a couple Ks off the main road on a long bumpy road lined with the poor, local Siem Reapers you don't see at the temples. The museum is run by an ex Cambodian soldier who was forced to lay mines in 60s and 70s and now has dedicated himself to training his country mates on the demining process. His teams can clear mines for about $.70 a piece, which irks international NGOs that often charge thousands per mine. All in all, the museum is frightening, depressing and inspirational. Definitely worth a visit if you're headed in that direction.

Apart from all that, the Khmer Food gets a thumbs up with its own little twist on the standard food of the region. The noodle soup breakfast hits the spot, and they have their own version of a sour soup like the stuff I had in Kaili, China but with more of a curry base. This was so delicious I had to have it two nights in a row. I also sprung for some stir fried pumpkin and shrimp which was also extraordinary. Although the local beer is pretty standard draft, one place had Beer Lao which put a smile on my face.

Ok, ok, now on to the (blaring horns - dun da duuuuun) temples of Ankor (applause). The temples of Ankor are a sprawling complex of ruins which around 1200 AD were part of a city about the area of NYC with a population of roughly one million people. The large stone temples and city walls were one day along side a wooden city (stone buildings being only appropriate for the gods) which has long ago vanished and been replaced by dense jungle. I hired a tuk tuk the first afternoon and headed to Ankor Wat - the largest and most magnificent of the temples - to catch the sunset. I bought my three day pass at the entry gate and jumped back in the tuk tuk. We continued north along the road and abruptly turned left. I quickly realized why as I looked out over a huge moat, wider than a river and perfectly uniform as it spread out before me, then taking a perfect right turn up ahead. The human effort needed to dig this moat alone was staggering to me, but as it turned out, I hadn't seen anything yet. After following the moat around the turn we were quickly among a swarm of tuk tuk drivers napping in the shade waiting for their fares and of course, the tour buses - and oh were there tour buses. I made my way across the earth bridge, lined with decaying stone dragons and through the ornately carved gate through the wall. The complex now spread out in front of me, a large raised walkway which seemed like a mile long made a B-line to the main temple, a huge stone building with 5 large towers. Approaching the building you go through 5 layers of stone hallways and courtyards and eventually climb onto the main tower, all along flanked by elaborate carvings and reliefs representing a mix of Hindu and Buddhist stories and gods. The towers and walls are covered with impressively ornate carvings which, though muted by ages of wear, still retain most of their original beauty.

Bayon in the Morning

The Faces of Bayon

It took over 2 hours to explore the whole complex and I took my share of pictures in the fading light. The complex was mobbed with other tourists and large groups following the bouncing flags in their matching hats, but they were surprisingly easy to escape and get small sections of the complex to myself. I eventually made my way to the top and sat back on the hard stone to watch the sun disappear over the trees.

I woke before dawn grabbed a baguette and hit the road on my rented bike. It was almost ten kilometers to the temples and after almost an hour of peddling I reached my first temple of the day by 8 am. It was quiet, the touts and shop keepers slowly putting together their stalls in anticipation of a day of hectic activity and I was surprised by how quickly the sun had rose in the sky since I left the guesthouse. I started at Bayon with hundreds of huge stone faces surrounding the towers and then was amazed at how you can easily lose yourself just wandering from temple to temple out into the woods. I got in about 2 hrs of good viewing and photos before the sun was too high for good photos, the heat was too much for me and the tour groups were quickly multiplying in numbers, so I jumped on my bike to see some of the more remote temples. Some temples were less restored than others and more like true ruins (aka were ruined). One impressive thing were these resilient trees which grew on top of the temples and temple walls, ripping them apart slowly with their root structure. The trees grew really quickly and could grow anywhere. In one instance a tree had started a good 15m up on the top of a snapped trunk, its roots weaving down over the dead trunk all the way to the earth below. Crazy.

Over the next two days I wandered the area on my bike - figuring I covered at least 80 Km over the two day period - and saw probably 25 of the sights, only a small fraction of what was available. I'll let some photos tell the rest of the story.

Ruins of Ankor

The road from Siem Reap to Bangkok was long and impossibly bumpy. Though it's perfectly straight and flat it's riddled with potholes. Whizzing past us at incredible speed were pickup trucks spilling over with people wrapped in scarves and sunglasses to keep out the dense dust. At one point the dust was too much for our driver and I was wrestled from my book by the impact with the large truck ahead of us. We filed out of the full bus and after surveying the crumpled front and mashed steering system the driver decided to continue. After objections from the other passengers one guy who spoke Cambodian kindly translated for the driver who was telling us "It's this bus or no bus." Baking in the noon sun, that settled that, and the next nerve racking 25Ks to the border proceeded slowly and chewed up the clutch pretty good. There are rumors that a certain airline keeps this road nice and sketchy and then lines the road with billboards for flights to Bangkok. I was expecting a sign somewhere that said " Are sure you don't want to fly - this is your last chance?" with a travel agent below and taxis waiting to take you to the Siem Reap airport. The road on the Thailand side was better and we had a VIP bus to Bangkok. The next thing I knew I was running through the streets of Bangkok close to Kho San road looking for a taxi that would actually use the meter to get me to the bus station to move on. 30 Minutes later I had jumped on a bus with about 60% confidence that it would take me to the small fishing village where my friend Katie is doing research.

I'm currently playing some catch up, but will post soon on my 4 days in southern Thailand, but for now enjoy these pics of the great wonder of Ankor. Cheers.