Drinking Chinese Tea, Eating Pineapple, Starfruit, and Passionfruit While Sitting in a Diner 9,000 miles from 99% of my family and friends... and Listening to Gangsta's Paradise.

When I said I wanted to reserve a room at Lavender Guest House for 14 days, the attendent was shocked. He told me that 2 weeks was too much for Melaka. This sentiment was adamantly reinforced by "Gus", a student working at Knockknock House, who told me he preferred Bangkok to Kuala Lampur, which he preferred to Singapore. Too many clean streets and orderly surroundings in Singapore. Bangkok had the disorder he preferred.

So Melaka is boring, apparently, which makes it perfect for me. I only found Knockknock House after meandering down a few unknown streets in search of... well, nothing, really. I was just wandering. I almost stopped at a barber shop, but I didn't want to wait for the only barber to get around to chopping my hair off. Once Chinese New Year vacations finally end and the Chinese go back to work, I'll get a badly needed haircut somewhere else.

My living situation at Lavender Guest House is this: A 12x5 room with a bed, a table, a single power outlet, and a ceiling fan, two shared bathrooms to each floor, a shared kitchen with free coffee and tea (hoorah!), and laundry services for 5 Malaysia Ringgits (RM), which is only $1.66USD, but takes a day or a day and a half. Within walking distance to two malls, and China Town, which will be much better most of the other tourists leave. I feel pretty out of place, considering that I am in an extreme minority, but everyone is very friendly and helpful. And the cost is very manageable! My room costs 20 RM a day, which is about $6.66USD. The pot of Chinese tea I've been sipping for the last two hours cost just under $2USD, and the plate of fruit was $2USD. So far, I'm sitting at $10.66USD for the day. Not bad.

This is something of an experiment, now that Melissa has gone back to work. What the hell am I going to do with myself? Yesterday was something of a failure, since I spent around four hours looking for a place to get a haircut with nothing to show for it, but I did manage to get some writing done, an accomplish I've continued today. I have a story in the works that I'm really excited about. I just hope I can write it the way it needs to be written!

Ok, this is it for now. I'll try to be funnier in the future.

Piggynoses!

Noir Poopery

With what I had seen over the previous few days, there was no telling what was hidden behind the dented and stained white metal of the door in front of me. It looked innocent enough, sure, and it blended in with the scenery, but something was amiss. The people in this part of the building were different, somehow. All of them were men, all with a look in their eyes like they had a void in their soul that needed to be filled... or maybe emptied. One of these wanderers had come out the door only a few moments earlier, his eyes almost glittering, and he'd left in such a hurry that he hadn't even closed the door behind him. He'd washed his hands, then- I'd heard the rush of water- and disappeared into the crowds without a word. Something was going down behind that door. Something stank, literally.

Through the crack, I could see what looked like more of the same white porcelain walls that graced the rest of the room. But something else caught my eyes: Five or six little gray metal hooks, each maybe an inch long. But for what? That man who'd walked through that door, what could that guy have needed to hang? What could anyone need to hang in that 5x5 room, and why? I started to reach slowly for my pistol, then stopped; surely, they had eyes on me already. I wasn't supposed to be here, and they knew it. With a look behind me, I realized I was being tailed. Some kid stood watching me, his face expressionless except for what appeared to be... hate. A shock of panic hit me suddenly. I'd made a mistake. They'd been watching me since I'd walked through the main door, and time had grown short without my even knowing. Without a word, I plunged through the door.

The door gave easily. TOO easily, and it hit the wall so hard it bounced back and hit me square in the elbow. I jumped back at the surprise of it, and my head hit the hard porcelain wall... right beside the hooks that might have dug into my brain. I stepped carefully away from the wall, keeping my eyes on the hooks, then felt the final trap: my foot began to slip down into the floor. I almost cursed as I struggled for footing and leapt back into the almost closed door, slamming it shut. I then turned, eyeing the door for any way to secure it against the small boy who'd been watching me, and found a small cylindrical lock. No sure protection, but better than nothing. I slid it into place and turned to eye what had surely been meant to be the end of me. What in the name of the gods...

In the middle of the floor, right where I'd damn near met my end, was a 3x3 square of porcelain that was different from the others. Two sections of the floor were covered with consistent ridges meant for some dark purpose that could only make sense if I could put myself into the mind of the depraved people who came in here for their dark, stinking business. Between the ridged sections was a depression that started at maybe 3 inches of depth, then sloped downward to... a hole. It was just a hole. Prettied up with porcelain, sure, but it was just a hole in the middle of the floor.

My mind raced. What purpose could this hole have? I thought back to the man who'd come out as I'd neared the door: he knew what went on in here, but he was long gone. There was no catching him. And the boy outside, watching, he wouldn't know anything. His bosses probably promised him candy, or bullets for his tiny pistol, or that they'd let his family live. They wouldn't give him any information  beyond what he needed to know: That I was on the verge of figuring out their dark, damp, stinking secret.

That was when it hit me: Information was the key! That man's eyes were glittering with KNOWLEDGE. I eyed the hole suspiciously, then thought back to the Viet Cong, hiding everything in holes. Sure, the Viet Cong had dissipated. Sure, Malaysia was far from Vietnam. Sure, there are better ways to hide information, but not ways that can't be easily figured out or intercepted. This was the perfect hiding place. A strange hole in a strange room with no signs to tell you what was going on: If you had to ask, you didn't belong. I placed my hands on the ridged sections and lowered my ear to the hole.

"I'm listening." I said in what I hoped sounded like English with an Asian accent. "I am ready for your informations."

But nothing happened. All I heard was the drip of water from somewhere in the room,and the fidgeting of the boy outside. He was clearly antsy to put a bullet where the sun didn't shine.

Suddenly, fury gripped me. After this chase, after all this time, I was just as plugged for information as I'd been in the start. If I couldn't get what I wanted from them, then I'd give THEM something to ponder. Something that stank just as bad as their rotten crimes. I stood and let loose a curse. No matter if the boy heard. His feeble little body couldn't break through the sliding lock. I stood on the ridges, then thought again: I didn't want to make a mistake, make a mess, and leave evidence on my best slacks. Carefully, I removed my pants and boxers, hung each on the hooks on the wall, then returned my feet to the ridged parts of the floor and squatted low, so low that even the dankest portions of my colon would not go un-emptied. With a grunt, I let loose. Unfortunately, the squatting position gave me a prime view of my act. Wow, that was disgusting. Seriously, ugh.

But man, did it feel good to give my quarry  a piece of my mind. Or a piece of my last few meals, anyway.

Once I'd finished, I reached into my pants pocket for a few stretches of toilet paper onto which I had hurriedly scribbles clues, earlier. No more need for those. Good thing I'd brought my own, too, since there was none in this god-awful stall. Er, room. Just some weird hose contraption that I preferred not to use on my butthole, thank you very much. I wiped my ass clean after numerous attempts, then found something I'd neglected to notice, in my haste. A lever. After all this time, I'd overlooked what might have been the ON switch for the communication hole. I hurriedly put on my pants and, with a dainty foot, pressed the lever.

The ground erupted with a roar, and I realized that my poops must have clogged their information hole. If I didn't hurry, my number might be up. I fumbled with the lock, pulled the door open and shouldered the stupid little boy out of my way as I scrambled for the exit. I hurriedly washed my hands, since there is always time for proper hygiene, and if I'm going to die, I'd rather not have poop germs on my fingers, and the floor continued to rumble as I sprinted out of the room, out through the crowded building, and to unexpected safety.

As I write this from a safe location, I can only hope they got the message: I'll be back.

Note: I made most of this up. Except the relevant parts about pooping.

What I am up to, n' stuff

Hey all! Just a quick heads up that I'll be offline for a few days (I think). Mel and I just arrived today on Koh Samui in Thailand. We're staying the night, then heading to Ang Thong National Park (another island), where we will stay for two days while kayaking, snorkeling, hiking, and getting stung by the local flora and fauna. After that, we'll head back to Koh Samui, then take a series of ferries and busses to Kuala Lampur, Malaysia, then another bus (or a taxi?) to Melaka, Malaysia. Mel will be returning to to work on the 12th, but I will most likely be staying there for a bit. One sweet thing about Malaysia... No visa required upon entry, and you can stay for 90 days! Huzzah! I'll try and get more pics uploaded in the relatively near future. That might not be for a week, but I'll get them up, I swear it.

Piggy nose!

On the island of Koh Tao

So, it turns out that internet service (wireless in particular) is pretty dodgy in Asia. Who knew? Well, Melissa knew. She tried to warn me, but I just couldn't understand until I'd experienced it for myself.

On Koh Phangan, the entire resort lost internet service for a day or so. Here on Koh Tao, after I wandered for a half hour, bought a couple dragon fruit and (fried?) banana with honey, sat down at a nice little cafe which boasted free wireless, and ordered a coffee drink, I was informed that their wireless was down. First, a toilet that can't handle toilet paper, and now this. I'm ready to call this whole thing off.

Nah, just kidding. I mean, that stuff really happened (the internet and the poop-paper thing), but I'm growing more and more comfortable with life here already. This place seems to be something of a compromise between the bustling-to-capacity Bangkok and the considerably less developed area of Koh Phangan where we stayed. There is also the added bonus that there are fewer large vehicles here than either Bangkok or Koh Phangan, which means that renting a motorbike is less of a daunting idea. Remember, it's not the road, your vehicle, or even yourself that is the biggest danger while driving.... it is the other drivers. And holy balls, were the car and truck drivers of Bangkok and Koh Phangan terrifying.

Yesterday, after arriving at the new hotel, "Buddha View", Mel and I took a quick walking tour of part of the beach and the area paralleling it. It's more or less a tourist paradise. You walk outside our hotel, and there is a beach thirty feet away, as well as a cafe, a restaurant, and a massage parlour offering 60 minutes of Thai massage for 250 Baht, which is something like 8 bucks. I think that that is actually kind of expensive, compared to less touristy areas in Thailand.

I've spent more than I would like, so far, but much of that has been for transportation costs that I intend to avoid in the future once I begin to 'settle down' a bit. Before Mel goes back to work, we'll be heading out to Malaysia, which is less touristy and even less expensive. I'll likely stay there after Mel leaves, and will try to further familiarize myself with life in the tropics.

This is starting to get long (this IS long, right? I don't know, I've never blogged before), so I'll stop here. I'll try to be more consistent with this, but it depends largely on the internets. If I drop off the grid for a short while, don't be scared! I'm not.

Much.

High five!

AAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWWW BARRACUUUUUDA

I don't know if this is normal or if I should be concerned, but it still hasn't clicked yet. I know that I'm on the opposite side of the world (relative to all but one of my other friends and family) but I don't feel it. On an emotional level, I just don't understand. What do you mean, the plan worked? How is it possible that after all the time I've spent thinking about this in the theoretical, it is now occurring in the actual? Dat shit don't make sense yet.

But hey! Here I am. So here's the quick, hopefully-not-boring story of my trip so far. I'll try to abbreviate it by leaving out excessive details and having a poor memory. Actually, no I won't. This is going to be long. Even if you've liked my blog so far, prepare to hate it ...But please don't actually hate it.

Aaaaand go.

Terror.

Honest-to-gods terror. It's what I felt as I made the final move to quit my job; It's what I felt on the way from Meadville to Pittsburgh to be dropped off without a car, phone, or most of my earthly possessions; It's what I felt on the way to the Pittsburgh airport; It's what I felt even as I made my way through the airport and eventually boarded my first flight, wide-eyed and ready for some random diety to reach down, slap me across the face, and point one large finger back toward home. Instead, I met Frank.

Frank spoke with a kind of measured calm that could have talked me away from a building ledge, or convinced me to just put down the bomb and have dinner with his family rather than going down in a bloody blaze of glory. "Come on, spaghetti's better than being dead," he would say to me, one hand outstretched. I might try to reason around his statement, but would be unable to do so. Inevitably, I would concede, step away from the ledge, and hand over the bomb. Then he really would take me to have dinner with his family. He really meant it, the whole time.

Frank talked with me for a majority of the flight. He was a teacher on his way to Haiti to build homes for the destitute. He described the terrible conditions down there, the squalor those people live in. He told me he'd gone there several times for the same purpose. As if he secretly knew me, he advised me to let go of my hate. No kidding, he did. And he told me he admired what I was doing. This guy, who was headed to a foreign country for the sole purpose of working his ass off to help out the locals, said he admired what I was doing. It would have been easy for him to think of me as just some naive, pre-college-trust-fund kid with more money than brains, but as far as I could tell, he meant what he said. It still doesn't make sense, but I still believe him. He just seemed like that nice of a guy.

I consider that to be the de facto start of my trip, and a foreshadowing of what was to come. While the 27 combined hours of flights and layovers, two days in chaotic Bangkok, 11 hours of train, 1.5 hours of bus and 2 hours of ferry were rough, I'm starting to feel good about this decidedly drastic decision. The people of Thailand have been overwhelmingly friendly. Smiles and nods are quick and convincing, everyone is very helpful, and while Bangkok was a bit stressful, peace seems to win out everywere else. So far, so good.

I lied. This isn't a story of my whole trip. But I'll get to the other stuff eventually, and I'll tie off this entry by describing a portion of last night.

Around 8, Melissa and I wandered along the beach. The lights of the quiet restaurants stood out in the darkness and reflected off the gently lapping waters of the bay. People sat, walked and mingled here and there, carrying on quiet conversations. There were absolutely no loud drunken partygoers, which was a testement to Melissa's wisdom in choosing a hotel far from the site of the Full Moon Festival. Menus sat on podiums which stood facing the water at intervals, often accompanied by collections of freshly-caught fish that were available for barbequeing. Eventually, we chose a restaurant and had dinner. I had 200 grams of fresh barracuda, cut and grilled thirty or so feet away, accompanied by a surprisingly delicious salad. I also had a 32 oz Beer Chang, 6.4% AVB. Part-way through our meal, our friendly and charming waiter took a break from serving food. He took off his shirt, lit each end of a stick on fire, and did a fire dance for twenty minutes. After he finished, he resumed waiting. Total cost of my portion of the meal: 240 Baht = $8.

After we finished and paid we walked back along the beach to our bungalow. I still don't know how this is admirable, but I really, really enjoy it.

Cheers.

There once was a man from Bangkok-it...

Day 3. The locals still do not know that I am not Asian. If they do, they don't seem to mind; if they mind, they still have not shown their true feelings despite, the fact that I am hopelessly incompetent at speaking their language. When I look in the mirror at night, I promise myself that I will take classes. I will become one of them, even if it kills me.

Hi all! After 27 hours of combined flight and layovers, a couple days of recovery and fun, and 11 hours of train, Melissa and I are now waiting for a bus that will take us to a ferry, which will take us to the fabled isle of Koh Phangan. From there, we'll find our hotel, and I will post several pictures! Hurray!

The Quiet Storm before the... wait, no I messed that up.

I went out to Quiet Storm today for one of my last breakfasts in the US for ever and ever; or at least a while. It was a cold walk, made even more so because I lent my winter coat to my sister, and had to resort to some of the few items of clothing I've held onto for use over the next couple days. Unfortunately, none of those items included gloves. Since my hands were  too cold to hold the Kindle, I had some time to think. Aside from the normal daydreams about being assaulted in Garfield, I decided that instead of perusing the Internets or reading Haunted, I would pull out the Lonely Planet guide to southeast Asia and actually learn about my destination.

You might be asking yourself: "Why did he wait until now to read that book, and is he mentally challenged?"

I don't know, and probably. Irregardless, It was delicious and relaxing, as always. It is tragic that I only discovered this place a couple months before I shipped off. I don't recall what I ate, but it was a hash of some kind that tasted like glory and barely controlled fearful anticipation.

Note: I am aware that Irregardless has not been used appropriately and has, in fact, been used in the exact opposite way it was intended.