Backpacking

By now we should have been used to it all. We'd ridden motorcycles through mud-sludged farm tracks in Laos, trekked with elephants in the bush in Borneo, dodged crocs, warded off cheeky macaques in Indonesia, and hunted with gun-wielding strangers under a midnight electrical storm in Malaysia. But we hadn't driven on the left side of the road. And we hadn't met a special van named Velma.

Megan driving Velma

Velma's 'Just say Yes to Drugs' mantra

Our chance encounter with Velma, especially during the Christmas/high holiday season in Australia, was pure serendipity. We woke up one morning at the Bunk hostel in Brisbane and realized that if we wanted to travel in Australia, we had to actually work for it. Gone were the days of Asia when we could simply book a $2 bus the morning of our adventure. Not only was Australia booked... it was expensive. Luckily the backpacker information highway came in handy: call around to rental car companies and see if anyone needs a relo (relocation) on a vehicle from your Point A to B. Cairns and the Great Barrier Reef was in our sights, so we rung round to see if any campervan companies or hire car places needed to move vehicles north up to Cairns. We struck gold when we called wicked campers- they had a van, "the most colorful van in their fleet" that needed to get up to Cairns in a week... for $1 per day. A remarkable deal, really, considering that these vans normally go for $60/day or more. Even more shocking when you see the state these vans are in, but that comes in later.

Campervan culture is big in Australia. The average campervan isn't exactly like an American RV. It's more of a spiced-up utility/minivan, seats taken out of the bed and a foam mattress put inside for sleeping. Under the foam mattress are cabinets and compartments for linens and miscellaneous storage. At the back (accessible by opening up the rear door) is typically a small hand-pump operated sink, a tiny basin, plates, cups, a pan, a chilly bin (a delightful British/Aussie term for cooler), and a gas stove. Backpackers rent the cheapest ones from a company called Wicked, which has spiraled into a sort of alternatraveller culture of old- almost dead- VW and Mitsubishi vans, splashed with graffiti-style, pop-art drawings and PG-13 tags (one example, "I lost my virginity, but I still have the box it came in.") Yes, mildly to moderately offensive to holidaying Aussie families, but when a van's cheap, can you say no?

Sink and "kitchen"

We picked up Velma the next morning from the Wicked Van depot in downtown Brisbane. She was definitely colorful. Loud marijuana leaves, in all shades of green floated in a sea of orange and purple on her side doors. The back simply stated "We do acid to make the world seem normal." The inside was something out of a psychedelic nightmare- huge red and orange polka dots adorned the ceiling and interior doors. Her radio, A/C and power locks (plus some windows) were all broken. Great. Velma was a stick shift, so Megan, not Catt would be doing the driving. Driving on the opposite side of the road is hard enough in a new, functioning automatic rental. Shifting gears with your left hand is tricky business, especially in stop and go traffic, especially when the car you're driving has a broken 5th gear, reverse, and ignition barrel that's thisclose to breathing its last. Several angels worked overtime to ensure that we made it out of Brisbane and onto the freeway north towards Beerwah and the Glass Mountains in one piece. In the end, though, it was a great adventure. The first of many great vehicle adventures we would have in Oz, and later, New Zealand.

Our first stop that morning was the Glass Mountains, about 70 kms north of Brisbane, and Steve Irwin's famous Australia Zoo. Per Lonely Planet,

The Glasshouse Mountains are 16 ethereally shaped volcanic crags which emerge from the humid green surrounds in sporadic and Jurassic Park style. Towering over 500 m, with sheer rocky sides, these peaks were believed by Aboriginees to be a family of mountain spirits, the most distinctive of which is the father Tibrogargan.

We found a slightly sketchy looking caravan park with a spectacular location, perched right under the peaks, and... parked. There was no setting up of camp to be done, since we just sleep in the car. We are avid tent campers, so this was a sort of strange style of travel to get used to. The proprietor of the park gave a thinly disguised smirk of dismay as she assessed our van's paint job ("I hate those things.") It's true; we were a rolling "just say yes" advert to the youth of Queensland. Oh well. We ventured out into the mountains and investigated some walking paths. No one was around; the country in those parts was breathtakingly beautiful.

Glasshouse Mountains

Inside our campervan

That night as twilight neared, we made supper in the communal kitchen and encountered a very tan Dutch couple who'd just come from a sturdy looking 4WD; the only other campers that night in Beerwah. They had just capped off a four week driving tour through the outback. They were having steak- "something special every few days"- and we, the classic jar-sauce spaghetti. From every travellers' tale I've ever heard, there is nothing quite like the Australian outback- vast, dusty, dangerous, sun-baked, and empty. Many tourists venture into the outback unprepared, and many succumb to its heat, its venomous creatures, its challenges. This couple in particular had blown 3 tires on their 4WD in one day alone- and thankfully they had been travelling with 4 spare. We chatted with them in the communal kitchen until long after dark, swapping stories over our spaghetti and iceberg lettuce salad under a bowl of sparkling stars that punctuated a velvet Australian night sky, the Glass House mountain spirits a silhouetted black ridge against the inky blueness. The stars that night were so clear that between them we could easily see the Milky Way, thousands of stars sprinkled between the brighter points like shimmering powdered sugar. Enveloped in all of this beauty, we retired to Velma's foam mattress and caught some shut-eye.

The next morning we awoke, set up lawn chairs, and had our breakfast as the sun crested the top of the mountains. We were pumped to visit Australia Zoo, the late Steve Irwin's interactive park that played host to hundreds of various Australian animals, most notably, crocodiles. We decided to make a full day of it. Here are some pictures of the animals we learned about and met at Australia Zoo:

With Steve Irwin poster

The Irwins and and Catt... where's Wald-Oh?

Otters... these guys were extremely quick and animated. They were waiting for lunch in this picture.

Komodo dragon from Komodo and Rinca, Indonesia

Giant Tortoise. Australia Zoo was home to Harriet the famous giant tortoise until she passed away.

Tigers. Seeing them from behind a high walled fence and glass exposure gave us a new appreciation for the audacity of our tiger encounter at the Tiger Temple in Kanchanaburi, Thailand

A croc getting fed at Australia Zoo's "Crocoseum"

Camel

Our favorites

A cassowary. These amazing creatures only live in Queensland and Papua New Guinea

Dingo

Tasmanian Devil... he was remarkably shy

I LOVE wombats.

Eclectus Parrot

Red parrot

Rainbow colored parrot

Black-necked stork

Echidna

One of the most touching aspects of a visit to Australia Zoo are the many tributes to the late Steve Irwin, "wildlife warrior" and national hero of Australia.

Unfortunately I had inadvertently left the lights on all day and Velma's battery had died by the time we got back out to the parking lot. A friendly car park attendant gave us a jump, though, and soon enough we were on our way... to Hervey Bay, and Fraser Island.

Australia. Oz. Aussie, aussie, aussie. Oi Oi Oi. Kangaroos. Pavlova. Cricket. Ahh...

Our arrival in Brisbane late at night on November 26th was akin to popping out on the other end of a black hole. We were majorly culture shocking the moment we stepped off the plane. I guess that's what a sudden jolt back into the "West" (in one of the technically most eastern of countries) after half a year in Asia will do to you. Brisbane is so orderly, tidy, safe, and, well, plain in comparison with Bangkok, and SE Asia in general.

Our flight from BKK to Brisbane mysteriously detoured to Sydney, first. While we waited in the Sydney airport for our onward flight to Brisbane, we were comforted (and a little weirded out) to see Christmas decorations everywhere. That's right, it was the end of November. All in all the journey took about 11 hours. 11 hours, for which we only paid about $150 each in airline tickets. I still don't understand what sort of black magic travel agency voodoo our travel "guy," Nick, at circletheplanet.com did to get us these tickets. And I'm not complaining. Or asking.

We landed in Brisbane and linked up with some other travellers from the UK to share a taxi into town. Our immediate shock was at how bloody expensive everything was in Australia. Much of this has to do from the relative strength of the Aussie dollar, helped by the mining boom out west around Perth. Most of it has to do with the general suckiness of the greenback these days. In Asia, where many of the currencies are pegged to, or affected by fluctuations in the dollar's value, this was less easy to recognize and didn't really affect us. In Australia, we were hurting. Our double room at a backpacker's (The Bunk) in Brisbane was $80! Unbelievable. Long gone, we found, would be the days of $3/hour massages and $1 meals. Oh well.

We spent our first day in Brisbane reliving the glory of sidewalks, crosswalks, and other Western world phenomenons ending in "-walk," and did a stroll through their beautifully manicured Botanic Gardens. Everything seemed to clean and orderly. The public toilets were delightful. Catt had to hold me back several times from walking into oncoming traffic... in Asia, the cars just go around you. Sadly, we didn't spend too much time seeing the sights as we were agonizing over onward travel, renting cars, and the general headache that is arranging holidays during the peak season in Australia. Also, my (Megan's) parents were rumoring to come for a visit, but without tickets in hand, we weren't sure when and where to plan to meet them.

Pictures of us wandering around Brisbane, Australia:

Skyline in Brisbane. We couldn't get over how clean and clear the air felt.

During our stay in Brisbane we made a trip out to Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary, the "world's first and largest koala sanctuary, with over 130 koalas." No kidding, there are tons of the narcoleptic, cute little beans there. They sleep upwards of 20 hours a day, perched lumpily on branches of trees, eyes shut, in blissful sleep. They're really adorable, and hysterical to watch. Here are the stars of Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary, doing what they do best:

This is before the koala keeper handed the koala over to us for the below photo. She kind of looked like an Eastern European ice skater or something.

They had a "retirement area" for some of the older koalas. This lady was quite a grannie.

A big attraction at many zoos featuring Australian wildlife is having a "cuddle" photo. You pay an extra $15, or whatever, that goes towards the upkeep of the sanctuary in exchange for having a "koala cuddle" caught on camera. We decided to take advantage of this and get a picture. The koala looks like our child:

Proud Parents

In addition to the koalas, the sanctuary also had some wombats, cassowaries (large, flightless, brilliantly colored birds native to Oz and Papua New Guinea), and kangaroos. Like many zoos in Australia, the 'roos are housed in a separate portion of the sanctuary where they are free to hop around. You can buy some snacks for 50 cents to feed to them; awesome.

Here are some more pics of the wildlife at Lone Pine:

A wombat. We really wanted to cuddle a wombat, but it wasn't an option. Damn.

Feeding a juvenile kangaroo

Aussie sheep herder

Sheep herder with his dog. These canines are seriously smart animals...

A beautiful lorikeet at Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary

Wombat love shack

After Brisbane, it was time to head north up the Queensland coast...

After our visit to Siem Reap and Angkor we had intended to head straight to Trat, Thailand and catch a boat out to the islands to hang out on one of the less populated beaches in the Gulf of Thailand off of the east coast (most likely Ko Chang.) Catt wasn't feeling too hot, though, so we decided to extend our stay in Siemp Reap for an extra day so he could rest up and make the sojourn to Thailand the following day. Making use of our extra time, Kate and I got a tuk-tuk and made a trip out to some of the more remote temple locations, the temples of the Roluos group. Our tuk-tuk driver actually spent his childhood in that area, so after checking out the temples, he drove us through his old village and we got to briefly meet his family. We also made a stop at an awesome NGO that helps street kids earn money by carving and producing artistic creations out of tanned, dyed buffalo skin. The NGO gives the kids food, accommodation, and school, plus the proceeds of the sale of their creations. They make the carvings after school in the afternoons. Kate bought several of these as gifts for friends back home. Very cool organization. Once I get the name of it, I'll post it here.

The next day we made arrangements to take a bus from Siem Reap back to Bangkok. We had heard horror stories about the condition of buses and roads within rural Cambodia, but had been lucky so far in our journeys from and to Phnom Penh, so didn't worry too much.

It's safe to say that this was the worst bus we travelled on in our entire time in Asia. It was extremely cramped, dirty and small- like a miniature version of a school bus, with bench seats- and there was zero leg room (I sat sideways with my legs jutting out into the tiny aisle almost in the lap of the poor Japanese girl next to me.) A taller guy sitting in front of us would periodically turn around and moan "this is almost unbearable." On top of that, the roads are in pretty serious need of repair, and so you can only travel at maximum about 30 mph. The potholes are intense, and within about five minutes of travel, everyone in the bus, including the luggage, piled sky-high at the rear, is covered in a thin layer of red, dusty soot. This is really no fault of the bus driver or transport man, but just the reality of the situation when travelling within Cambodia. Due to the poor condition of the roads, the journey just from Siem Reap to the Cambodian border at Poi Pet took about six hours. Six, jarring hours during which I pondered the potential of getting a head concussion by simply being a passenger on a Cambodian bus. The countryside out the window was lifeless, flat, barren; the earth a reddish-brown hue, and nothing to interrupt the meeting point between sky and land but the children, oxen, carts, motorbikes, overturned vehicles, semi-collapsed and rebuilt bridges and general remnants of life-as-normal littering the road and fields. At times the bus would completely detour off of the road and into the fields to avoid massive, lake-sized puddles of mud, rocks and dirt. It is a grueling, sanity-testing, new-threshold-discovering journey that is probably best not be undertaken by non-adventurous, open-minded travellers. Oh, and don't forget your dramamine.

We were extremely relieved to arrive at the border, which is only, really, a reflection of how horrid the bus journey is. Poi Pet, Cambodia is rumored to be a pretty lawless, "wild west" sort of place, so we made haste passing through customs and getting the hell out of there to the Thai side and village of Aryanyaprathet. We encountered minimal hassle in Poi Pet, but according to just about every other traveler I've met, we should count ourselves lucky. Here's a small blurb from another traveller's blog I found online about the place:

For my bright and cheery outlook on travel, I cannot find one good thing to say about that abominable hellhole this side of the planet. Poipet is a crossing point that opened to foreigners in 1998, and it instantly built up around the opportunities that presented. It's described as a Wild West town, and the lawless atmosphere this implies is not exaggeration. Children cling to your sleeve and pursue handouts en masse, then kick your backpack as you walk away. Motorbike drivers crisscross insistently in front of you, undeterred by NO in Thai, Khmer, English. A growing mafia with the singular objective of scamming a deal aggressively harass travelers and are outright belligerent when refused. . . . And that is the tamer part of the scenario. Where normally I'd push positively onward, in this town my optimism reduced to irritation then alarm as darkness approached. I was actually disappointed to the brink of tears to see the last foreigner leave for Siem Riep and was tempted to talk my way again onto one of their groups.

I wanted OUT of Poipet ASAP, but the next means out to the part of the country I was bound for did not leave until morning. In my years of living in Harlem or traveling new cities, I'd never felt my sixth sense buzzing, not to be ignored, even in the dead of night, like it did in Poipet in broad daylight. I bought my bus ticket, hurried to my room, jammed the nightstand against the door, and rearranged the layout to maximize my advantage in case of intrusion. I lined up what belongings I could use as a weapon on the bed, near reach. It's the kind of place where you keep your clothes on and sleep alert with your hand wrapped around a sharp object ready to spring the commotion rather than wait for it to happen to you. Taken from http://kampucheacrossings.blogspot.com

The rain began to pour as we finally made it through customs and were rushed to a make-shift bus station where we would catch our onward transport to Bangkok. We ran like hell through the parking lot to get some of the last seats on that bus. I cannot tell you how modern, clean, and efficient Thailand seems after weeks in Cambodia. When our double-decker bus pulled up, tell-tale karaoke soundtrack pumping with colorful curtains bedecking the windows, I felt like I was home again. Everything in Thailand seemed new and wonderful, almost to an aseptic point. That's not to say I don't appreciate the organic grittiness of Cambodia, but it certainly does reinforce that central ideal of living and travelling: it's all relative. I've heard so many travellers bemoan the dirt and chaos of Bangkok, but I can't even begin to explain to them how orderly and manageable it is compared with some other parts of this planet we've explored.

Anyway. We dozed and rested through the uneventful journey back to Bangkok for a few hours. We arrived just after dark, and were pleased to find that we still knew our way around the Koh San Road area quite well. We hiked with our packs back to New Siam II guesthouse- we had stayed at New Siam I before- and got reacquainted with the joys of showering and air conditioning. We were anxious to take Kate out for a wander on the streets of Bangkok, and did a loop, getting more fisherman pants, delectable Thai street treats, jewelry from the "frog ladies," and so on. Pictures of our time in Bangkok with Kate to come...

The next day, Kate headed off to check out some of Bangkok's sights while Catt and I headed to the internet cafe to do some serious planning for the next big leg of our journey: Australia. We were flying to Brisbane on November 26, and had no accommodation, plans for onward travel, or anything else under our belts, plus we would be there during the peakest of peak seasons, Christmas and New Year's. After several bleary-eyed hours, we met up again and did some shopping and dinner on Ko San Road. We ate a meal of Western food (first in a while, which was actually really nice), which also as a bonus included live music performed by an older Thai guy in a cowboy hat. Pretty sweet.

The next morning Kate woke up early to catch her flight out of Asia. As we said our goodbyes, we felt a pretty solid pang of home-sicknesses. Kate was the first familiar face/reminder of home we had had in almost half a year, and despite the novelty of travel and new places, the process of constantly being on the go gets tiring and morale can get a bit apathetic after months without friends and family (and Chipotle). We decided we need a pick-me-up, which is how we came to meet a memorable guy named Joe, and discover a gem of a small island...

Originally we had thought about travelling to Ko Chang as our final island escape in Thailand, but after doing more research, decided that Ko Kut, an even smaller and less touristy island, might be just our thing. We grabbed a bus for the three hour journey to Trat, a lovely city perched on the gulf of Thailand, and stayed the night there at a wonderful, small guesthouse. Trat is very quiet, peaceful, and restful- miles away from the tourists and hawkers of South Thailand. We had a great dinner at a restaurant down the street, and stopped in for a visit to the home of a local Frenchman/travel agent who let us browse through his collection of brochures on the islands while his little girls played on the floor next to us. We decided on Ko Kut, rang up the boatman, and called Joe, a fantastic character who runs a great bungalow operation on a remoate, beautiful beach.

The next morning we grabbed a sawngthaw (pick-up truck taxi, very common in beach areas of Thailand) to the jetty. A motorboat sped us through emerald-green water out to the islands, and the sun beat down on us brilliantly. We made stops at the most random, tiny docks and jetties, dropping off supplies to Thai families, and picking up the odd boat-hitcher or tourist. When we finally got dropped off at our island, Ko Kut, we were met by a tiny Thai woman, who bade us to follow her. Somehow, despite the boat lacking a time-table (and the island having very unrealiable phone service) she lead us through a coconut grove, over a hill to Joe's place. We never really exchanged words, nor did she know our names, but somehow she knew who we were, and where to take us. We never cease to be amazed by the miracles of travel in SE Asia.

Joe's place was so relaxed and laid-back- I could have spent weeks there, decompressing from the hustle of life, a seeming million miles away back on the mainland. We got our own simple bungalow, with palm-frond hammock, clean, neat sleeping mat, mosquito net, and surprisingly nice private (cold) shower and toilet. Like every Thai bungalow operation, Joe had a restaurant and bar on the property (more like an extension of his kitchen) where he cooked up delicious fish that he would catch during fishing trips during the day. He was originally from Bangkok, but came to Ko Kut seeking the simpler pleasures. He had travelled very extensively, too- I think he had been to the States twice (Las Vegas and Florida). We spent three days here on a patch of white sand and an almost deserted beach, relaxing, sunning ourselves, and eating some great curries and noodles at the restaurant nextdoor. We also rented bikes one day and cycled around the island checking out waterfalls and local life. It was fantastic.

Here are some pictures of paradise Ko Kut:

our bungalow's hammock, with Megan's Balinese sarong drying in the background

Our bungalow at Joe's place on Ko Kut

Ko Kut beach

Catt at Ko Kut

Megan on Ko Kut... if I ever publish a Danielle Steel-esque trashy novel, this pic can go on the back inside flap...

Swimming in the clear, warm water at Ko Kut

After all that relaxation, we caught a boat back to Trat for our journey to Bangkok, and finally, Australia. The boat trip back to shore was extremely choppy- almost scarily so. It's amazing how a bright, sunny day can completely bely the reality of rough surf and the condition of the water. One girl on our boat started having a nervous breakdown out of fear (I guess of capsize?) and was inconsolably sobbing and wringing her hands for the hour and a half journey. I'm not going to lie; it was pretty harrowing.

All was well once we were back on solid ground, though, and we took another pick-up truck back to town and grabbed a bus to Bangkok. In just two short days we would be back in a "Western" country more similar to our own country than any other place we had ever been before...bring on Australia.