Cambodia to Burma and Why Military Juntas Suck

It's been a while since I used WordPad on a 56K connection... bear with me.

I sit here in a steamy Burmese internet cafe, rubbing my scars (bike riding never does get easier... how many days does it take to get the hang of making lefts??) and contemplating how I'm going to survive the next 3 days on 21 dollars. I'm falling more and more in love with this country as the days go by... but my absolute revulsion for the military junta is subsequently magnified. Swaggering wankers. Some asshole doodled all over my passport this morning at a checkpoint on the road to Inle Lake. ON MY FAVORITE PAGE. I'll post a photo later. You'll be enraged, I guarantee you. Since the attempt at posting photos (much less uploading them) seems near comical given the rudimentary internet I'm seated in front of, I'll expand.

I had one perfect page in my passport. Four, neatly stamped visas-- two from Sri Lanka (my favorite country) and two from Israel (almost my favorite country)... in black, neatly in their boxes, with crisp and sharp edges. Ahhh--- (considering that border guards do this ALL day EVERY day, you'd be surprised at the number who can't even use a stamp correctly.) It was lovely. Around 2 in the morning, after 11 hours of listening to Burmese pop at full volume on a bus from Yangon to Inle Lake, we stopped at a checkpoint, and I was called in to sign some forms... as usual. The guard, after asking me my name about a million times, wrote it down wrong in the booklet. When I attempted to point this out, he waved my index finger away irritably and began looking at my visa stamps. Minute after minute passed as he stared and glared at the colorful items... until he finally cleared his throat, whipped out his pen, and used my favorite page to test out the ink of his ballpoint before thrusting it back at me and, once again, writing my name down wrong in his booklet.

WANKER.

You all think I'm overreacting. Maybe I am... but even so, punching him in the belly would have made me feel better. After travelling for a while, you get to take quite a bit of pride in your passport... and when some iron fisted dictator-worshipping nob uses your favorite page to make sure the ink in his 25 cent pen is working, it makes you angry.

Anyway!

I think I should update on Cambodia considering that there's been nothing from me in several weeks... and the country is not one to be glossed over. After passing from Don Det in 4,000 Islands over the border, I made my way down to Kratie, a little town on the Mekong known as one of the last places on earth you can still see Irrawaddy dolphins. The dolphins remained unseen, even as we crept, stealth mode, with only 2 screaming motors down a stretch of river only plagued by 14 other boats full of tourists with cameras. INCONCEIVABLE! A little further out, we managed to glimpse a couple, and my camera went wild photographing the ripples left behind in the water.

One stop in Phnom Penh and I was on to Kampot afterwards to laze on the river and look cool riding a motorbike for a few days. I haven't quite gotten the hang of U-turns, but after a few minutes of rolling back and forth in place on the side of the road, I'm off! Louis, my teacher for the day, and I made our way to Kep, a one-time beach resort before the Khmer Rouge rolled in, killed everybody, and burned everything to the ground. There's not much-- but we managed to score a bag of 7 deliciously steamed crabs for 5 USD. At 3 crabs in, we were stuffed,... and it became much like hazing in a fraternity at one point-- each of us goading each other on to eat just ONE more crab. I think I was worse off after that than any frat party I went to in college. Crustaceans are not meant to be taken like tequila shots.

I won't discuss Sihanoukville or Koh Rong much except to say that they were spectacular-- made even better by the presence of Matt, a hot Australian surfer who managed to score a couple days off work flying planes to come and get jiggy on the beach with me. (Was that the correct way to use "jiggy"? I never know) Between us, we managed to pack in a lot of miles of beach, a lot of yummy seafood, and a lot of free beer. After a night of pubbing, clubbing, and casino-player elbow-rubbing, Matt had to get back to Kratie in the morning for work, and I was left on my own to nurse a hangover and put up with a hoard of 18 year old English gap-yearers. Ugh. Then on to Koh Rong- it was awesome. The water was spectacular, and I had enough time to finally tweeze my eyebrows... for the first time in months.

Up to Battambang (wonderful place!) and then on to Siem Reap for some temple climbing. Angkor Wat was spectacular. Really... really spectacular. 13 hours on a bicycle riding around and posing with this statue and that may have killed my skin and affinity for bike riding... but not my spirit! On this trip, I've seen 5 "Wonders of the World" ... and I really think Angkor Wat is my favorite. The Taj Mahal was a snore, Tikal was overrated, and the pyramids were devoid of any shade whatsoever from the merciless Egyptian sun (although they themselves were incredible). We arrived at the Wat for sunrise and spent much of the next few hours exploring the Wat itself as well as Bayon, the center-piece of Angkor Thom. What makes A.W. better than a lot of other temples and statues is the elaborate chiseling on the walls. No part of the compound (the largest of it's kind in the world) is without gorgeous inscriptions and pictures of naked ladies. It's also so big that almost 50% of the time, Alex (my English companion) and I found ourselves completely alone to wander the ruins in solitude. I'll post photos later.

OK, well--- this post is already too long and I don't think I have enough kyat to pay for the time I've already used. On arrival to Mandalay, I'll post more about Burma...

Laos

It's been a long time since I updated anything that had anything to do with my trip, so here's some catching up... bullet-point style.

* I've decided never to again eat goat meat. Or pig meat (unless I forget- which conveniently seems to happen with bacon). Having worked on an organic farm with these sweet meats, rising at 6:30 to sweep their poop nuggets, and having lovingly gripped their moist tits over a pitcher--- I can never again look at them the same way. Look at this face. LOOK AT IT! No more goat meat. Also- having seen the pigs jump all over themselves trying to get at the heaps of goat shit we would feed them AFTER sweeping out the poop nuggets--- NO MORE PIG MEAT EITHER. Gross. Such gross animals.

* Phoudindaeng Village > Vang Vieng. I know. I know. You're supposed to go to Vang Vieng to go tubing. That's the entire point of going there. Everyone told me it's great- it's a trip maker... blah blah blah. Honestly, I just couldn't be bothered to go into an entirely gringo town to party with a bunch of 18-year old gap year kids. I'd rather sweep goat shit. (Sorry, if you're reading this Farrell)

* Not much else has happened in the last few weeks. Nong Khiaw and Muang Ngoi were fabulous, and I'm glad I went. My hideous leg lesions are BACK. AGAIN... even after 3 rounds of different kinds of very aggressive antibiotics. They think they're so smart.... with their... LESIONNESS. Fuck them. Back to the doctor's in about half an hour.

* In Pakse now. My God it's fucking hot. My God it's fucking hot. Fucking hell it's fucking hot as fuck. ERRNNNGG!!!!! I hadn't planned on staying here... like I said. I've only got 3 days now to see 4000 Islands and get to the Cambodian border... but after the grueling 8 hour ride from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng, the 4 hours then to Vientiane, and 10 more hours on a bus down to Pakse... I just... couldn't... do it.

Strange that I'm still so tired though- I actually slept quite well on the bus. These sleeper buses are equipped with full-sized beds on both sides of an aisle for proper horizontal-type sleeping... much like modern-day, air-con slave ships. The beds aren't made for 2 big people (nobody over 5'5, I think)... but for myself and the tiny Lao woman and her baby... we made a good sleeping puddle- provided we all slept in the same direction. First, I spooned the lady while she spooned her baby. Later in the night, she spooned her baby while her baby spooned me. There was lots of spooning. There was also lots of spit in my hair in the morning. All in all, it was a very domestic ride.

* On the bus ride from Vang Vieng to Vientiane yesterday, I observed a couple of village kids that really reminded me of my sweet little Ethiopians. As we drove through their town (if you can even call it that. Does a cluster of 3 houses and a noodle shop count?)... I observed about 7 children playing what appeared to be baseball on the side of the highway. Not only did they lack a field- they lacked proper bases, bats, and balls. They were using a stick as a bat--- and do you know what they were using as a ball because they didn't have one? ANOTHER STICK. So they were throwing the stick and hitting it with another stick... then running to an imaginary base, which was really anywhere because there were no markings anyway. I made a diagram to illustrate my point. Fucking awesome.

On the whole, Laos is marvelous. It took some getting used to-- there ARE a lot of tourists here, and anybody that says otherwise was here years ago, before the boom... but it's still great, and I'm having a grand old time. Only three days left to go though, before I'll be on my way to Cambodia for 2 weeks. I'll report back from Angkor.

I'M NOT JAPANESE

So, every time I go home- people always ask: What is it you missed most about the states? Hot water? Chili Cheese Fries? Free STD testing? ... and I'd have to say- yes.. yes.. yes, I missed all those things... (particularly the cheese fries).... but more than anything, I missed not having people shout "JAPAN!" at me as I cross the street.

It's been 11 months now on the go... and although I love being out here, doing this... I'm really losing my patience. With the locals, it's okay- a lot of them, particularly in places like Sri Lanka and Nicaragua, have never seen an Asian American backpacker before. They can't wrap their minds around it. "You look like this... but when you open your mouth, it sounds like THIS... wha-wha-WHAT?" That's fine. It's annoying, but understandable. The part I CAN'T stand, is when morons from first world countries ask me dumb shit like "can you speak Japanese?"

NO. CAN YOU?!?

Fucking idiot.

WHY would I be able to speak Japanese? Is it because China, where I've never lived, and have nothing to do with, is next to Japan... a country that I've never been, have never lived, and have nothing to do with either? What part of "I'm from the United States" do you not understand?

I know a lot of people from the US had parents that taught them their native language, and that's fine. I just can't see why people are so damn interested in it in the first place. Even if I COULD speak Chinese/Japanese/Korean... what would it matter to you? You can't speak it either! Moreover, they're always so disappointed when I say no, and then accuse me of losing my roots. WHAT FUCKING ROOTS? I was born in Berkeley, I grew up in San Ramon, went to college in Sacramento, and now live in San Francisco. You want roots? Then YOU go to Japan and fucking get them!

I was at the gym a couple days ago (no, really, I WAS at the gym. I know it sounds like bullshit, but no- really, I was) and this French dude walks up to me and starts giving me pointers on weight lifting. Fine. Cool. He then (after a good 5 minutes of conversation with me) asks me if I'm from Japan. DO I FUCKING SOUND LIKE I'M FROM JAPAN!?!? When I say "no" and tell him that I'm from San Francisco, ... he then PULLS AT THE ENDS OF HIS EYES to illustrate to me what I look like.

Oh dear God.

Smashing a French man's face open with a 4kg dumbbell is the easiest way to land yourself in a Thai prison... I reckon. Merely telling him to fuck his mother, however, is the easiest way to get him to fuck off and leave you to your weight lifting. I chose option two. Hurray for me and my self restraint.

There's nothing wrong with being from Japan and I've met loads of super awesome Japanese people all over the world. Good on them for travelling, and bless them on their journey. I, however, have nothing more in common with them than I do the Russian guy or the girl from Germany. We're all backpacking.... and that's pretty much it. I don't see why people think I would flock to the first asian I laid eyes on. Moreoever, shouting "Other Koreans are staying here!" is NOT going to induce me to patronize your hotel. Yes... let me run into the arms of people I've never seen before, and hold them to me while they utter something in a language that is completely indecipherable. I FEEL SO AT HOME.

FUCK YOU.

Imagine that everyone thought you loved hot dogs. You don't. You don't mind them of course, they're aiiiiite, but you don't LOVE them.

Now imagine that every day for the rest of your life, everyone asked you why you loved hot dogs so much, and brought you hot dogs as a tribute. They're being nice and mean no harm- if anything, they're just trying to get in your good graces... but no matter how many times you tell them "actually, I don't like hot dogs THAT much", they wave it away as ridiculousness. "HAH! HE SAYS HE DOESN'T LOVE HOT DOGS! Have you ever HEARD such lunacy??" After a while, you're sick of eating the hot dogs to be nice. After a little MORE time, you try to stress that you don't like hot dogs at ALL. You're SICK of hot dogs. You can't STAND hot dogs. You USED to like them okay... but after years and years of hot dogs, you can't eat another one.

But everyone believes you like hot dogs. People you've never met before make the hot dog eating motion at you as you walk down the street. They shout "BRING THIS MAN A HOT DOG" even though they don't know you and you're not in the mood to eat at all, never mind eating a hot dog. Wouldn't you want to punch the next person that offered you a hot dog in the face? Wouldn't you want to take that hot dog, and jam it in his ear until the weiner was lodged so far into his fucking head, he couldn't even hear himself scream?

And other people say... "(_enter name here_) ... they're just CURIOUS about why you love hot dogs so much... they don't MEAN anything by it- have a sense of humor!" THEY, by the way, cruise down the street unmolested... tasting this, tasting that. Noodles today? Perhaps a muffin? Maybe, maybe not! ... while all day long, you are abused and accosted by hot dog sellers and fans. Now you HATE hot dogs. You try to stress how much you like hamburgers, or pumpkin pie... but the only thing people care about is you and your relationship with hot dogs. "WHY don't you like hot dogs anymore?" they cry. "WHAT is wrong with you, that you won't eat hot dogs??"

And you try to say you NEVER liked hot dogs. That you don't eat hot dogs at home and don't even know the difference between wheat and white buns. ... but they don't believe you. They WON'T believe you... and you're left trying to find someone... ANYONE who you can spend time with that won't bring up the hot dogs.

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... that's what I feel like.

Other than that, my trip is going great.

Sawadee KAAAAA~!

Keeping it short as I only brought 30 baht to the internet cafe, and I think I've already run over my time! Got the 'India Photos' section handled though (2 months late)... if you fancy a visit.

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Funny how I only know two things in Thai (hello and thank you), but I seem to mix them up on a constant basis. Shopkeepers are quite puzzled when you insist that they greet you long after you've already purchased something and are in fact, in the process of leaving the store.

So let me finish up on Sri Lanka. Emil left sometime on the 16th after a successful run of 2 months of travel, and I found myself not having anyone to threaten or torture with the pulling of chest and/or kneepit hair. I forgot that ordinary people don't like that. With only a week left in Sri Lanka at that point, Danielle and I made for the hills- spending 2 blissful nights in Ella before continuing on to Dalhousie to climb Adam's Peak for sunrise. Here's a cute little girl that boogied our way from the top of the hill down to where the road snaked left and we lost sight of her. A natural, if I ever saw one!



Adam's Peak (right) is maybe the hardest physical thing I've done since volcano boarding in Nicaragua. 5,200 steps straight up, and quite the queue once you get there. Adam's Peak, or Sri Pada, is a remarkable sight for two reasons. For Buddhists, the sacred footprint left at the top of the mount is said to be Lord Buddha's last step on earth before ascending into Heaven... for Christians, it was Adam's first step out as he was exiled. Whatever the case, there's certainly a very long line of pushy pilgrims. 3am hikes make for some grumpy devotees!

A day here, a day in Kandy- one 6-hour bus ride and a questionable "egg" sandwich later.. I was on my way to Bangkok. Not sure what I expected... but this wasn't it. Skyscrapers, air-con buses, and loads... I mean... LOADS of tourists. Heavens, me! After teaming up with an impulsive South African, I was on my way to Chiang Mai for party and pleasure. I won't post too much except to add this photo of Ben with a purse. We met Bobby, a Coloradan that had been living in Thailand for 4 years or so- and he introduced us to Fone.... a Thai native that insisted on driving. Ben was ousted to the back of his scooter, and a designer purse was hoisted onto his shoulder as Fone took the reigns and sped us off into the distance. Chiang Mai was fun- and was without a doubt, the best partying I've had since Goa... but I left to pursue a cooler climate, and people with long necks in the hill country bordering Myanmar. More on that later.

End o'India- and Sri Lanka

It's so strange when people ask me what my favorite countries are. It seems that my final 3 (Sri Lanka, El Salvador, and Ethiopia),... don't involve lots of crazy activities or tons of chaos. The only things tying them together are good food, good sunsets, and wonderful people... plus they're all cheap cheap cheap!

I took leave of my last Swede (Emil! You're my last!) and headed to Trichy for my flight to Colombo, set to take off on the 24th. I spent one moderately restful night in some shabby motel while watching the Nancy Drew movie and tweezing my toes. The next morning, I rose early for my 9am flight and took a taxi to the airport, tipping the driver heavily and shouting "G'BYE INDIA!" before beelining for the air-conditioned building in a manner reminiscent of a marathon runner hitting the tape. (If you've ever been to India- I'm sure you can relate). Upon arrival, I proudly presented my passport to the security agent and told him I'd be on the Mihin Lanka flight to Colombo. He responded that there were no scheduled flights with Mihin Lanka that day, and kindly asked me to step aside for the next passenger.

In the complaint office, 25 minutes later, I found out that my flight, which I had only booked a week or so in advance, had been canceled, and people had been notified by phone. When I asked why no one sent an e-mail, I was met with blank stares. Seriously, you have time to call EVERYONE by phone,... but no time to send an e-mail blast? Anyway, I was told to come back tomorrow (as if being told that there would be "no flight today" was the same as "no chocolate milk today")... and I damn near swallowed it and walked outside to find a taxi when I met Danielle, a Minnesotan who was supposed to be on the same flight. This is us standing in front of the Ambassador which brought us to the Meridian Hotel, where we stayed our last night in India with room service and HBO. People from Minneapolis get their shit handled (and handle it for me in the process). Hooray!

Anyway, we arrived in Sri Lanka the next day and made our way to Hikkaduwa, a surf town on the South-Western shore with the best waves and best nightlife in all Sri Lanka. I spent about 2 days there... but with the bug bites I got in India all infected and oozing (I'm sure you want to hear all about it), I found that in lieu of ostrasizing myself from the obscenely beautiful surf community, it was altogether better to piss off into the hill country for a little R&R. On the way, I met Catherine, a nurse from England who wasn't disgusted by my horrible ankles, and together, we made our way to Ella.

I won't post too much about Ella except to say it was lovely and that I met some friendly Canadians that greatly enhanced my experiences there.

A few days in Ella, a day or so in Haputale, and then on to Kandy to meet Emil for some elephant riding, botanical garden strolling, and 8th wonder of the world viewing.... although from entirely different perspectives. Having paid outside my budget for the RIDE out to Sigiraya... I was shocked to find that the ENTRANCE to the site was 3x outside my budget entirely. Strange that 30 dollars at home can seem like so little, but on the road, it's a fortune! At first, I was pretty bummed, especially as no one else seemed to have the financial limitations that I have. Luckily, I ran into some locals on a moped, who told me about the photo at the top of the post. Best hike of Sri Lanka, and it was free! I was the only one up there, enjoying the view, the sunshine, and a bag of cheese bits all to myself. Lovely!

From Sigiraya, we headed straight to Hikkaduwa for the nightlife, surf, and snorkeling. The timing was perfect, as some day old turtles were just being released within a couple days of our arrival. Here's a flappy little bugger I got to play with a bit before seeing him off into the ocean to begin a life of seaweed eating, jet stream riding, and female turtle romancing. So cute!

Anyway, several things happened from then until today... but I'll keep it down to just two... #1) Emil stepped on a sea urchin within a minute of his first Sri Lankan swimming experience. Here is Sam from Montreal picking out the spikes with a swiss army knife and a safety pin from someone's birthday card. Emil's been quite the trooper, but it made for a funny trail of gauze while he swam today as we #2) snorkeled with some giant sea turtles. Below is a photo of me feeding one seaweed. It's so crazy- I suppose they come close to shore in order to grab the abundance of seaweed covering the rocks... but the act of swimming in the water with them, stroking their backs and even grabbing onto their shells and letting them drag you (albeit not very far-- I reckon I need to lose a couple pounds) was bizzarre and humbling. I'm so small and clumsy! This was definitely the height of my Hikkaduwan experiences!

Anyway, tomorrow I continue north for Adam's peak and the hill country (again) until the night of the 21st, when it's on to Thailand!

Sool-Stool!

I had intended to do a full update regarding my goings-on for the past weeks, but I reckon that it'd be of little interest to anybody, least of all myself. Since departing Anjuna, my trip has consisted of revisiting much, and discovering very little. I don't suppose you want another post on Hampi? Gokarna? Anjuna? No? Neither do I!!

I came to Fort Cochin on the 11th of this month, shortly after spending a couple of weeks wandering around northern Karnataka with Emil, Emma, and Henrik... my Swedish mafia. Here is a photo of them. Aren't they cute? They know words like "catalyst" and "resolution" ... although they don't seem to be entirely sure where to add the stress sometimes. The word "diary" can become quite funny when the emphasis is placed on the last syllable, as I came to find out. Anyway, we went to Hampi and Gokarna together, and although I nearly wiped out Henrik's 16 GB memory card on accident, the time passed without incident and I found myself enjoying what could have been the most pleasurable 10 days of my time in India.

So, I came to Kochi (Cochin) by myself and met this crazy one. The manager at our hostel tried to get me to abandon her to his wily design, but I hung fast. Lucky for me, that resulted in mango cornflakes, picnics, and hours of bike riding. It also resulted in me getting thrown out of my hostel early, as the hostel manager (I'm assuming) got angry that there was never a minute alone with her to be had. I was always lurking... lurking nearby and watching. Anyway, because of me, he never made his move, and because of him, I was thrown out early. Scumbag!

Anyway, fast-forward a couple days, and I'm back in Swedish company as Emil and Emma come to meet me in Allepey for 3 full days of relaxing on a houseboat. I had originally fretted over what to do for 3 days on a boat in the backwaters.. but thanks to the $4 bottle of Mango vodka, with a helping hand from a bottle of Black Pepper rum and 2 cases of Kingfisher... that never really became an issue. Here's a couple of photos from the trip. We also had a discussion about the merits of sharing underwear while on the boat.. but I won't get into that here. The entire trip cost around 3, 250 rupees a person... roughly equivalent to 70 dollars for 3 days cruising through the backwaters in our own personal boat. All food included. You can see the banana-leaf spread on the photo below, prepared with love by our happy cook, Rajeevan. I didn't manage to get a photo of our crew (Pushpen was the name of our captain)... but they had acute hearing and a healthy appetite for drinking games. They caught on to "pyramid" quickly. I thank Australian Tom for teaching me that one.


Where we docked for the third night.
Rajeevan's lunch spread. On the top left of the banana leaf is okra. Then there was a potato thing on the upper right, and a pineapple banana curry on top of the rice. All you can eat- since those silver containers in the corner were full to bursting with more food. The best food I've had in India (best food of my trip??). The only complaint I had was that I had to waddle around in my bikini afterwards. Most of the trip, I was simply hovering between really, really full, and uncomfortably full. It makes for a not-very-productive boat trip.

Rice paddies. Watch the cloud of mosquitos lift.

Back in Kochi, afterwards, I managed to catch both a kalarippayattu show and a kathakali show (spelling?) in the Kathakali center. The kalarippayattu show was awesome because there were people chasing other people with knives. That's always good. The kathakali show was awesome because this guy's eyeballs were dancing all over his head. That's also always good. I'm going to try to post a video here and hopefully it'll work. I know it's sideways, but I don't know how to rotate it, so shut up. In case you're wondering what that thing he's swinging around is,... it's a double sword-whip thingy. There are two extremely long (and very sharp) swords attached to one hilt, which the guy swings around like a whip. In order to own one, you need a permit supplied by the Keralan police, lest you dice someone into fun sized pieces by accident. This guy was a gangster.

Anyway, I'm afraid if I muss with this post too much, it'll erase my video. I'm in Sri Lanka now and FUCKING LOVING IT. More to come.

I know,.... I know.

I'm terrible at updating this thing. In my defense, my camera has been absolutely useless for the last three weeks or so, and updating without relevant photos is no fun. Here is a picture of a really cute kid to balance out the text-photo ratio of this post.

Since leaving Hampi in mid-December, I ventured eastward to Hubli, a bo-dunk city in central Karnataka, famous for being completely unremarkable in every way. My reason for coming here was this: A friend from Anjuna, G-1, was concerned about the impending graduation of the woman of his dreams, a dental student named Deepti Rao, who was studying at Shree Something University. In India, after a woman finishes her education, it really is only a matter of time before she is pressured to marry and settle down. G-1 was not about to lose the fight for Deepti due to something as silly as his work schedule. It was my responsibility, then, to find Deepti, profess all of G-1's burning feelings for her, and return to Anjuna with mighty prize of her personal digits. My armor? Her name and the approximate location of her university. Period.

I accepted the challenge for two reasons: 1) my undying faith in true love, and 2) I was going to pass through Hubli anyway- how difficult could it be to find this girl in such a small town?

What I came to find out is that 1) Hubli is the second largest commercial center in the state of Karnataka, 2) the university isn't actually IN Hubli itself- it's about half an hour outside of the city, on the side of the highway, 3) the university is extremely large, and divided into two campuses that are impossible to bridge without the aid of the university bus, and 4) Deepti Rao had graduated about 5 months prior to my arrival in India. I was not pleased. Moreover, I arrived in Hubli in the middle of the night, and there was nowhere within my budget range to stay anywhere close to the campus. Thankfully, the manager at the Travel Inn was a freaking saint, and not only called every connection he had at the university in the attempt to find this girl, but managed to secure me cheap accommodation only a short bus ride away, as well as introduce me to a med student named John, who proved to be an invaluable guide to me for the rest of my stay in that horrible town. There was also beef jerky and salted plums involved... but I won't get into all that.

My initial anger at having been dragged out to the middle of nowhere for no reason at all immediately vanished at seeing G-1's crestfallen face when I told him that she was gone. It then resurfaced when he asked me to go back to pester her classmates for her personal cell number. I declined.

Anyway, I was back in Anjuna by the 23rd of December, just before Christmas. If any place in India could be what El Tunco, Maderas, Nazret, or Copán was to me... then Anjuna is it. Maybe Goa wasn't what it used to be, but it's still one of the best fucking places to party in the world. Best NYE I've ever had, hands down. Here's a photo from that night.

Ordinarily, I shun planning ahead- and I was having second thoughts about leaving behind the friends I had made in other parts of India to spend a fortune going to Goa to party for NYE, just to say I was there. (In the 70s and 80s, Anjuna became legendary for massive parties on the beach.. giving Goa the international reputation for being one of the best places in the world to spend NYE) I was not disappointed. When planning this trip, I only wanted a few things: A killer birthday, the pyramids of Giza, the opportunity to learn how to surf, and Goa for NYE. Thank God I never deviated from my plan.

Anyway, there was tomfoolery to be had afterwards.... Swedes are a fun lot to travel with- but I'll leave that for another post. It's on to Kerala tomorrow-- Kochi, Trivandrum, ashrams and lagoons. I'll post accordingly. In the meantime, here's a photo of Emil and Henrik in Paradise beach. The food was bad, but the tans were good.