Laos: not too Laosy

A couple weeks ago I had the chance to visit Laos for a week.  Good friend from Tokyo Luke now lives there as an international school teacher, so three others from Tokyo and I made it a point to plan a reunion trip to see him in his new country.

As a country, there are no "must-see" sites.  No Ankor Wat, no Phuket, no Vietnam War tunnels.  The biggest destination is probably Vang Vieng.  VV (as probably no one calls it) used to be a huge backpacker haven.  Expats could party, do all sorts of drugs, and jump into one of the bigger tributaries of the Mekong River.  However, they did all of those things a little too much and did a little too much dying along with it.

Van Vieng is a little more chill now.   Should you choose you can still get a magic pizza, but there are not nearly as many bars with drunk white people spilling out.  You are also not allowed to wear swimwear around the town.  In fact, there are signs reminding you of this.  Picture a sign with a big, fat foreign guy with a big, fat foreign nose and no shirt on smoking a huge joint, with a drunk and annoying-looking blond in a bikini next to him.  This power couple looks as if they're being loud and super obnoxious while frightened locals in the corner of the sign look on in terror and disgust.  Probably not far from the truth of the scene a few years ago.

Luke, Jeff, Duncan, and I went up there for an overnight trip.  I had a random Laos fever the first day, but on the second day, we got to experience the best part of Vang Vieng:  Rent tube. Begin floating down river.  See bar on one of the banks.  Have one of the people working there throw you a line (filled plastic waterbottle attached to a rope) and reel you in.  Play bocci ball or sprinkler basketball for a while (pictured above).  Have a couple beers.  Get back on your tube and float on to the next bar.  Take a beer with you along the way if you want to. Floating down a river, on a sunny day in the middle of rainy season, beer in hand, with 3 good friends is a surefire cure for a random Laos fever.

There were plenty of other fun parts about Laos, but most of them were due to being with good friends rather than fantastic sites, so instead, I'll share some fun Lao facts with you:

-the word "Laotian" is made up.  A person is Lao. Food is Lao. Never Laotian.
-similarly, people in Laos don't pronounce the 's.' I think the official spelling has an 's', but it was put in for foreigners.
-Laos is a Pepsi country, a Johnny Walker country (ads everywhere), but first and foremost a Beer Lao country.  Beer Lao is one of the country's few value-added products, and it is ubiquitous at every social event.   It also tastes pretty freaking good.
-Laos has a lot of laws, many of which are not enforced.  One of them is that foreigners cannot have sex with locals.  A $500 fine awaits you should an angry ex-girlfriend turn you in.

-more to come-

Zorbing!

(Watch the Full zorbing video)

Last Saturday for a friend's birthday I went Zorbing for the first time.  For those of you unaware, Zorbing is when you put yourself into a huge bouncy ball and roll down a hill.  Like a hamster in an out of control wheel.  Let me explain the process more fully: You are actually in a smaller ball inside of the actual big ball, so there's not just some rubber in between you and the ground.  The full ball is probably 9 feet tall and the inner ball between 6-7ft, so you've got 2-3ft of air cushion surrounding you.    This hill was about 100yds long with an uphill ramp at the end to stop momentum, though apparently once in a while the zorb goes up and over the ramp and keeps going until the crew can stop it.  

Zorbing can be done either dry or wet.  In the dry zorb, the rider actually sits on a foam bench, facing backward.  You strap your ankles in, buckle your cumber-bun seatbelt, slip into your shoulder straps, and put your wrists in the wrist securers above your head, and you're ready to go.  I did the dry zorb once, and I remembered my playground swing techniques of pumping your legs and leaning back to increase speed.  Same principle in the zorb.  When you really throw your back into it, you go much faster.  The problem is, if you can never seem to do anything in a straight line, you throwing your back into the roll leads to you rolling diagonally, then sideways.  Actually, nevermind, it was awesome regardless.

The other way to Zorb is the wet zorb, sometimes called Zyrdo (clever, combining hyrdo, which means water, and Zorb, which means zorb).  Same dimensions of the Zorb, but this time, the inner ball gets filled with water.  The zorb masters (if that's what they call themselves?) put a little slip and slide mat into the hole to the inner ball and you have to superman your way in.  Like giving birth backwards.  Once inside, the water level fills up a little more, and you're free to move around.  Trying to stay upright and run down the hill with the zorb is a futile exercise, although you can get a little push right at the beginning.  From there, going down the hill in the wet zorb is like being in a spherical slip 'n' slide.  With more weight comes more velocity, so the wet zorb is twice and good with a buddy and good squared with a trio.  We stuck three fully-grown males in one zorb, inching up to the maximum weight of 580lbs, and that is certainly the best time 3 guys can have in one ball.  

After the run, you slide out feet first.  The zorb masters then get you in front of the ball jumping.  This is a sneaky way to document that you were not hurt during your zorb run.  Everyone smile and say "legal liability!" In between runs, you can mess around by giving your friends in their zorb a push down the hill or laying flat in the zorb's path and let it bounce over you.  

Zorbing is not as crazy as bungee jumping, but it is tons of fun.  You really get ab-zorbed in the moment.  And once you've been in a ball with someone with water splashing all around you and one of you screaming in falsetto, you're now bonded forever.  Zorbies for life.

Fun zorbing fact of the day: like all good adrenaline activities, zorbing was invented in New Zealand

-More to come-

Saipan 2.0

I took my second trip to one of Guam's closest neighbors--Saipan--a few weeks ago.  The last time, I didn't have much time to see more than a frisbee field and a few bars.  This time, with a phalanx of friends to host me, feed me, and show me around, I got a much fuller view of the largest of the Northern Mariana Islands.  

The must-dive dive of Saipan is the Grotto.  This was an underwater cave until thousands of years ago when some huge spoiled kid started jumping on it and the roof caved in.  Now, after you walk down 100 steps with full scuba gear on, it's accesible.  You then cross over to a rock that juts out into a big pool.  The crossing itself can be a little treacherous, but dive buddy Yousef and I were lucky enough where we came at low tide.

Once you jump off the rock and into the pool, you fin up and you're ready to choose your own adventure.  The Grotto has three openings, or doors 1, 2, and 3 from right to left.  Each bring you out to the ocean.  Though it's calm under water, you absolutely don't want to surface out in the open ocean because the current would jack you right onto the rocks.  

Yousef and I chose to find out what was behind door #3 (well, he's been like 20 times before).  This meant I just had to keep up with him as he took me through a bunch of swim-throughs he knew and one or two he'd never done before.  Marine life wasn't the main draw, though you could see plenty as we followed the wall down to our left.  After a quick 30 minutes, it was time to head back through the bright blue light and up to the surface.  We likely went a little deep, so we both had a little narco afterwards.  Yousef, who doesn't drink, was fairly given the symptom of just feeling a little tipsy, where I, who does drink, was awarded with a nice headache.  We scaled the 100 steps back up to the parking lot just as a bus load of Chinese tourists were coming down.  They didn't much bother to move to one side, but they took plenty of pictures of us, recognizing a universal truth that everyone looks like more of a badass in scuba gear. 

A few days later, on the complete opposite end of the tourist spectrum, was a trip to LaFiesta, or the abandoned zombie mall.  Saipan used to be a huge hub for the garment industry, which could stamp a "made in America" label on clothes but still paying workers third world prices.  When the industry left, so did the people and the business.  LaFiesta is a mall that was just abandoned, and has been so for at least seven years.  Friends told me that it was immediately and often looted for abandoned property.  Quality abandoned property.  Friend Amanda, who has plenty of good taste, took curtains and drapes to decorate her house.  This mall also famously became the site where police found a murder victim a year or so ago, so host Natalie obliged me and took me on a trip there, but just during the day.  Natalie and I spent the afternoon taking creepy pictures (e.g. serial killer Matt above), and finding weapons to battle with.  I was told by friends this would be a great place to shoot a zombie movie, and they were 100% correct. 

There is broken glass everywhere, hidden dark corners, and a perfect dose of "look zombie-fighting companion, this is how they used to live before the great undead war." There are old newspaper clippings, menus, signs, and plenty of old equipment perfect for defending an impromptu zombie attack.  To the right is a picture of me bowling with an old movie reel.  (obviously).  There was a room with dozens of stacks of these reels just waiting for an ultimate frisbee team to use them as weapons against their brain-eating foes.  Dump, swing, throw a strike and take off the head of a zombie trying to eat your your favorite female teammate.  Boom! Cut. Print.  Scene over.  

Fun Saipan fact of the day: There is a specific Shell gas station that randomly gets shipments of quality wine and cheese. No idea why, but whenever a shipment comes in, the news spreads like creamy peanut butter on toast.  Island life.

-More to come-

Matt

1600m and 48oz: the beer mile

Hey all,

Part of my stump speech for when people ask me about Guam is that though the social life is not the same as it would be in a big city, I love it because so many of my social activities are also athletic activities.  This weekend epitomized that sentiment.

Last Sunday early evening, the Guam Running Club organized a beach beer mile on the beach down the hill from where I live.  The event is for charity, but I learned that it's not just a Guam event.  These beer miles take place all over.  The rules are simple: each participant needs four 12oz beers.  According to the rules, the beer has to be over 5% alcohol, so no sissy Michelob Ultra nonsense among this crowd.  First, you have to drink one beer until it's finished, tip the can/bottle over your head to ensure you've completed it, then run 400m.  Repeat times four and you've done a beer mile. If you throw up at any time, you have to do a penalty lap (though not a penalty beer).  We had a crowded beach, so the organizers made a "beer drinking area" cordoned off by 4 trashcans.  After the first beer, the group ran left, around a bottleneck of another trashcan, then back to the "beer drinking area." 25% done. No problem.  Next beer down, and we ran to the right, out 200m and back 200m to the four trashcans.  Halfway done.

We had too many people (probably 100-150) for all of us to run at the same time, so the organizers split us into a fast and slow heat.  I figured I'm a decent runner and have had plenty of experience exercising and drinking at the same time with all the ultimate frisbee tournaments I've gone to.   I also thought I had a secret weapon in my choice of beer.  Roommate James and I found Hite Ice Point 5.5% at a local rundown mart when we were out one night.  We were looking for what was then our current cheap crappy beer, Boxer Lite, but they were out of that, and the Hite Ice Point 5.5% was $11.95 for 24 cans with a free Hite pint glass thrown in (Hite, pronounced Hee-tay, is Korean, and we now have 4 complementary glasses).   Anyway, to continue this secret beer weapon aside, most beers with the word "ice" in them taste like frozen awful. Skunky is how they're brewed.  The Ice Point was surprisingly different though.  It wasn't good by any means, it tasted instead like beer flavored water.  Watery beer above 5% = perfect beer mile beer.

So I was in the fast heat.  Three beers, three laps on the soft sand and I was three-fourths of the way done and definitely in the top third of the fast heat.  Then I hit the wall.  The beer wall.  I got into the drinking area, grabbed my last Hite Ice Point, opened it, and just stared at it for a while.  I took a small sip and a heavy breath. This is a dumb idea. Why would anyone want to do this? Fat guy next to me finished his last beer and lumbered off for his last lap, hammering home the idea that foot speed has nothing to do with success at a beer mile.  First runners finished, another sip, 11.5oz to go.  Buddy Kyle comes in from his third lap, opens his beer next to me, and is having similar problems.  But he's gutsier than I am (so to speak).  He tries to drink more than he can.  He almost pukes but shoves whatever comes up back into his mouth.  I admire him and pity him at the same time.  I go towards the ocean and drink and let some pour down my front.  There's a kid next to me puking out his Root Beer.  I drink some more, and spit some out (it's not that well-regulated of an event).  I'm looking at my watch.  Stupid idea. Contemplating the overall volume of my stomach and concluding it's about 38.5oz.  Finally, slowly, after drinking and cheating while looking like drinking, seeing so many people I was ahead of at the 1200m mark already done, I go on my last jog.  I turn in my card that requires me to write my name, age, and beer I drank.  I can't sit down for another 20 min while Kyle and I watch the slow heat and friend Ann Marie.  If I sit, I puke.  Ann Marie does her true 48oz but also pukes.  We all celebrate by standing in one place sipping on water for a long period of time.

Eventually, everyone is done, and I learn some secrets to success for the beer mile.  1) don't hang out on the beach all day drinking and BBQing (okay, I already knew this one). 2) shake your beer up an hour or so before the race.  This helps release the carbonation right away (ability to burp and run is also key).  3) you do better with room temp beer.  Colder beer takes longer to drink.  I still think the Hite Ice Point was helpful, but I'm clearly more of a runner than a drinker.

This Sunday activity was after a full Saturday of running.  There was a 48.6mi, 10 person relay that I was up for on Saturday morning at 2:57am.  With 9 of my closest friends and roommate James as our support car driver, our group ran the southern perimeter of Guam in just over 6hrs, starting at 4:15am (and finished 3rd out of approximately 35 mixed teams).  The only snag of the day came a little after 1/3 of the way through when we forgot to pick up teammate Dave at the end of his leg.  We didn't remember him until a leg and a half later.  When Dave showed up alive to two checkpoints later, having hitched a ride with another team, we were all so happy to see him alive, and we had our inside joke for the rest of the day (week, maybe month).  With everything ironed out, our team really flew in the second half as we celebrated a beautiful view of the southern coast of Guam in the morning heat.  All in a normal weekend on Guam.

Fun Guam fact of the day: Fruit bats are considered a delicacy on Guam, and consequently are over-hunted to the point where there's hardly any.  Okay, that's not fun, just a little sad.

-more to come-

Mt. Kinaballers

Here is the "there and back again" tale of Mount Kinabalu.

When I first told people I was going to Borneo, anyone who had been there, without fail, told me that I had to hike Mt. Kinabalu--that it was the one thing I had to do.  At approximately 13,500ft, it stands as the highest peak in southeast Asia.  Many of those who completed it said it was the hardest thing they had ever done.  Okay, I'm always up for getting to the top of a hill, let's do this.

Now, much like the rest of Borneo, Mt. K is almost always booked via a package.  The vast majority of climbers hike to a lodge 6km up the trail, stay the night there, and then wake up at o-dark-thirty and hike to catch the sunrise at the summit.  These are the packages to book.  The problem is, for one overnight hike, it's like $350USD.  I'm all for climbing mountains, but that's a bit pricey for highly elevated nature.  The alternative is to do the whole thing, roughly 17km (11ish miles), up and back, in one day.  People who've done the 2 day hike said we would die, the guidebook said it was only for the ultrafit, and the tourism industry eschews it because they don't make nearly as much money.  Spoiler alert! We decide to punish our legs and not our wallets and opt for the one day.

Much like the rest of our trip, the Mt. K logistics had to go perfectly, and they did.  First, we had to get from Kota Kinabalu (KK) to the base of the mountain to start our hike as close to 7am (when the park opens) as possible.  Buses don't start that early.  So travel/hiking buddy Amy and I found a minibus station at 430am.  Great. Except there were no minibuses, and according to the few people queued up that early, there won't likely be until 6am.  Less than great.  We found a taxi parked there, and this sweet old man of a cab driver said he can't take us because he has to wait for a newspaper delivery, but his friend, Mr. Yap, he's coming soon, and he'll be able to take us.  Our trust was now in the hands of this sweet old man, and sure enough, Mr. Yap (another sweet old man) did arrive soon thereafter and we got a decent price for the hour and a half journey to the base of the mountain.  Thanks Mr. Yap.  Logistics hurdle one passed.

We arrived to the base of the mountain at exactly 7am.  As if we had planned it that way.  The second hurdle is at the ranger station.  As previously stated, the one day hike is discouraged for various reasons.  Thankfully, we had an ace in the hole.  Friend and amateur travel agent extraordinaire Julia is a local in Kota Kinabalu.  After numerous attempts, she was finally able to get through to the ranger station and make a reservation for two for a one day hike a few weeks prior.  However, the rangers told her to give her name (not ours), so we have nothing under either of our names.   We rolled up to the ranger station, and much like at a restaurant, I stammered something like, "uh, we have a reservation for two, except it's under the name Julia." Like an accommodating maitre'D, the guy behind the desk pulled out a reservation book and there we were, line 6, reservation for 2.  No questions asked about where was Julia, or who we were.  We pay money to three different desks for things that we don't bother asking about, and we're about ready to go.  Easy day.

Now I should mention here that the rangers have been known to require one day hikers to pass some sort of physical tests or rigorous questioning before they're allowed to proceed.  I was slightly worried because I had a muscle strain in one leg and had just cramped up in the other two days prior at a frisbee tournament.  But, we must have looked like a couple of mountain goats because there was no calisthenics, no push-ups, no shuttle sprints, and no rigorous questioning about how steely our resolves were.  Logistics hurdle two passed. Now it's actually time for the hike.

We started through the gate at 7:40ish am.  It is 6km straight up to the hut where the less steely stay for the night.  Reading others' accounts, people make it seem that these first 6km are like death by stairs.   Admittedly, there were plenty of stairs, but we made it to the hut just after 11am.  Three and a half hours.  psssshaw.  No.Big.Deal. What is everyone whining about?  Likely because the lodge was not the day's destination, but rather just a checkpoint, the hike did not nearly seem as hard. Underneath is the ridiculously over-priced lodge that we didn't stay at.

We stopped here for lunch, and we took a little longer than we should have eating our healthy potato chips and candied dried fruit meal.  It's only another 2.x km (not sure of the exact distance) to the top, but this was the toughest, steepest part, and we had to summit by 1pm, so an 11:45 push-off saw us a little behind schedule.  At around 1245, we saw the only other one-day hiker we met, coming back down.  She told us her guide made her turn around.  Panic.  I abandoned all thought and started running up the mountain.  I got to the last checkpoint only to discover that there was a gate, but there was no one there manning it.  Since most hikers do the summit for sunrise, everyone else was gone.  When Amy and our guide, Felix, came up, there was really no question.  We hid our packs in the "office" except for the water (Felix actually just dropped his on the side of the mountain a little ways up).  We went on.

I am minimizing the moment a little, but this is really the make or break moment of the entire day.  Felix would have been entirely within his rights to make us turn back.  We would have had to by the waiver we signed.  But he let us continue, and that's when we started seeing our rewards.

Typically, summit is set for sunrise because it often gets cloudy or even stormy later in the day.  Luck was on our side again as we were handed a perfect, clear, blue sky and white puffy cloud type of day.

I should also point out that it's typically just above freezing at the top.  Amy and I spent weeks on end deciding which layers to pack based on the scare-tales of others.  After all that planning, the weather gave us a crisp, 55ish degree afternoon.  I was in shorts and a long-sleeved shirt, and Amy was in a tanktop and pants.  At this point, it didn't matter, because all of it is in our bags down at the last checkpoint anyway.

But we still weren't at the top.  On this beautiful granite landscape, up above the clouds, at altitude, we still had to push.  My strategy was push hard, stop, catch breath, start again, get head rush, huff and puff, stop again, turn around, admire amazing view, take picture/video, turn back around, push hard.  Rinse and repeat.  Amy went for slow and steady, almost hyperventilate at the 8km (3920ish meter mark), pick herself up, shake off the altitude, and then go.  We still weren't sure which of the many peaks the top was actually at.  All we had was a white rope to guide our way.  Step by step.  Huff by puff.  Rock by rock.  Follow the white rope.  Just follow the white rope.  Finally, at 2:30pm, summit.  Victory.

Just us.  No crowds of people clamoring for a photo with the sign.  No freezing cold ascent in the dark.  No rain blocking our path.  No guide telling us we had to turn back.  Just us.  Us and our victory. And euphoria.  He was there too.  

Back down, we had been told, was even harder.  Second psshhaw of the post.  Not so.  Not after what we just did.  After we passed the lodge again, we started seeing hikers coming up.  Two-dayers.  They saw us coming down, all smiles and whistles.  They turned and looked as we passed.  "Did you guys do it in a day?" they gasped.  "We did," we replied.  Huge grins on our faces, not bothering to hide our joy.  You'll love it, and you're almost to the lodge.  Encouraging, but secretly slightly condescending, coming from the mouths of the two of us, who had just bested the mountain in a day.  We repeated this ritual for the next hour or so.  We stopped and let each hiker pass. No please, you go ahead.  You're getting close.  Just up around the corner.  They asked us the same questions, and we basked in our newfound stardom of one-dayers.  Rock stars have not known our popularity, our fame, and the level of awe we were held in for those few moments.  

The rest of the hike took longer once the trail of hikers/admirers dwindled.  We got to the gate at 6pm, an hour late.  They were waiting there for us.  Waiting to lock up for the day.  We were the last ones off the mountain.

Like most things, luck had so much to do with our trip that day.  We had to get a ride out to the mountain earlier than most people go. We had a local who was able to make a reservation.  Our reservation was there waiting for us (thanks again Julia!).  No one put us through physical challenges to test our abilities.  Our guide could have made us turn back. We could have been halted by bad weather. My legs or Amy's lungs could have faltered.  Instead, the mountain gods were with us.  

I have hiked a lot of mountains in my life.  This was not the tallest, but for the experience, for the company, and for the view--the view I could stare at all day--this was surely the best.  I now join the legion of other Mt. K veterans: if you have the chance to be in Borneo, this is not something you want to miss out on.

Here's a link to the video I made of the whole day.  If my words haven't captured the experience, hopefully the sights will:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HqlTu1aLQGA&feature=youtu.be

Post-script: we were sore for a few days.  I played pickup frisbee on the beach the next night, though not hard.  We could walk on flat surfaces, but it was going up and down for the next 2-3 days that made us hobble.  But every time I hobbled, it was just a reminder of what we had done.

-More to come-

Sometimes things just work

Hi all,

This is the first of two accounts of my recent trip to the island of Borneo.  Borneo, for those unsure, is one of the biggest islands in the world.  The landmass is divided among three countries: the lower 2/3 belongs to Indonesia, and most of it is very undeveloped.  The upper 1/3 is Malaysia, and there is a small sliver at the top that is Brunei, an old Muslim Sultanate.  Travel buddy Amy and I stuck mostly to the Malaysian province of Sabah (the upper eastern side of the island), although we spent a great 12hrs in Brunei (see below).

This post is about the little things working out on the trip.  That seemed to be the theme of Borneo.  All the little things just worked out better than can be expected.   I have done my fair share of sitting in dusty bus stops for hours, or sleeping in airports, or sitting in a cramped minibus in traffic on an overland trip, backpack on my lap, wishing for nothing more than to stretch my legs.  On this trip though, the stars seemed aligned.  Any well-traveled traveler has plenty of stories involving coincidence and good-fortune.  Allow me to share two quick ones:

1.  Didier and the over-zealous cabbie

Here's the scene: it's 530am, and Amy and I have just arrived at the Kota Kinabalu (KK) airport via taxi  to catch a domestic flight to Sandakan.  From there, we were somehow going to make our way overland to the village of Sukau, which sits on the Kinabatangan River, which is full of animals (KK to Sandakan to Sukau to the river to monkeys, got it?).  As expected, the cab driver is trying to rip us off, and as expected, I am having none of it.  This cab driver is particularly adamant that his price is correct, so he starts to go over to the cab parked behind us at the airport departure section.  Out of that cab steps a middle-aged white couple.  As the two cabbies exchange words, I briefly explain our situation, and the man tells me in English but with a French accent what the price should be as he has lived here for two years.  I go back to the cabbie with this price, we agree, and part (in a funny twist, the we take the same cab a few days later to the same airport and have no trouble).  Once checked in, we run into the couple and small talk it up while waiting for the plane.  We learn that the Frenchman, Didier, studies snakes and used to live in Sukau (the village we're going to).  He's taking Allison, British ex-pat who lives in Tokyo and is a friend of his wife, to Sukau for a few days on the river.  He's got someone picking them up from the airport and going straight there.  Would we like to come along? Obvi.  I had done some minimal research on minibuses, but it was minimal, and this was not a minibus.  And it was free.  And it was raining.  No fun trying to sort out transpo with backpacks getting precipitated on.

Upon getting to Sandakan downtown, we had a to make a stop while Didier and his friend the driver visited a sick friend and picked up the driver's mom.  This allowed Allison, who was basically in the same boat as us, Amy, and I to visit Sandakan's fish market and have some hot, sweet tea.  That's basically all Sandakan has to offer anyway, so in an hour, brush brush with the hands, we've checked off that place.  The journey to Sukau was a 2hr blur of rain, Didier telling us about the local scene and waxing about enivornmental conservation, and me sleeping, but we made it there with no problems.  Allison already knew where she was staying--one of the cheaper guesthouses--according to my travel book.  We dutifully followed there and fell into a cozy, clean, and friendly little guesthouse where the river was 40yds away.  While having an afternoon drink, we met Linda, a girl from Sweden.  We all recognized her from the same flight.  Soon, since it was just us who was there, we all became river companions and fast friends.  Here is us to the right on our last night.  It was that night that Amy and I realized we had actually seen Didier before.  A few days prior we were on a secluded beach on Sapi, one of the small islands off the coast of KK. We met his Kiwi wife while she was swimming, and then we ended up passing them while they were on the beach (Didier in his trademark hammock) on our walk back to the jetty.  The world is small man.  

Amy and I knew we had no good way to get back to Sandakan to catch our flight back, and Sukau is not really a place to catch a taxi.  Thankfully, Linda was going back the same morning. Her guide (and ours), Mr. Agi (guy third from the left), took us back and even dropped us off at the Orangutan refuge center, exactly at 10am, just in the nick of time to see the morning feeding--the best chance to see the beautiful orange creatures.  It could not have worked out better had we planned it, which we didn't, and that was kind of the point.  Most of Malaysia comes in the form of travel packages.  We decided we could do it on our own and took a bit of a risk.  But we were rewarded with easy logistics and great company for a few days, all due to the friendliness of a Frenchman.  And it all started with an over-zealous cab driver trying to make a little extra money.

2.  Brunei

When travel buddy Amy and I were planning the trip, Brunei was on our list simply b/c it was cheaper to fly back from and fit into our schedules.  It helped that it was a new country, one more to add to the list, but all it had ever been was a 12hr stopover on our way back to Manila.  We figured we'd walk around a bit, have a meal, take a few pictures, and call it a country.  And that would have been fine.  Instead, we got a random and enjoyable 12hrs with more new friends.

On our first day in KK, I played a frisbee tournament, and one of my teammates was Rachel, a 15yr old stud of a frisbee player.  She was there with her sister Natalie (also a stud player), her dad, and some of her dad's friends.  Her dad, Mike, works at the US embassy in Brunei.  We found this out early in the day and because Amy is friendly and I was Rachel's team captain, we had plenty of talk time throughout the tournament.  We told them we had 12hrs in Brunei later in our trip, and they instantly invited us to hang out with their family.  Invite accepted, insta-plans for Brunei.  A few Facebook conversations in the week and Amy and I were ready to get picked up from the Brunei airport.  So far, so good.

Our flight got in early, so we went to get out some Brunei dollars (1.27 to 1USD for those who are curious).  While at the ATM, this couple, about our age, was right behind us, and Amy thought they were staring.  Finally, the guy spoke up, and was like, "um, I'm sorry, did we meet you guys a few days ago at the bottom of Mt. Kinabalu?"  And sure enough, they had.  Kay and Faye, this English couple (Faye being a sweet northern girl and Kay reminding me of the guy who played Dr. Bashir on Star Trek DS9 or Gais Baltar on BattleStar Galactica, take your pick) had been at the foot of Mt. Kinabalu the same time Amy and I arrived (wait for the next post for Mt. K).  We had a short interaction of asking Kay to take our picture, he accepting and them making Faye do it, then chatting for a minute about the hike, and then parting ways.  Standard stuff.  Anyway, wow, can't believe we ran into you here in the Brunei airport. So strange.  More small talk.  What's your name again? Cool, we have some friends picking us up.  Have a good time in Brunei.  Lates.

But the Brunei airport has no obvious pickup point.  Amy and I waited for a while where we thought we should be, then started wandering back.  Again, we ran into Kay and Faye.  Awwwkward. They were looking for a bus.  Another minute, another convo, another laugh, and gone out of our lives again.  Except not.  When frisbee teammate Rachel and her dad Mike pulled up, they saw Kay and Faye, who pointed them in our direction.  But by that time, Mike had offered to take the two of them as well into town or wherever they wanted to go (according to his kids, picking up traveling foreigners who are looking lost is standard behavior for Mike).   Mike and Rachel and their family have been in Brunei for a couple of years, so they're as local as we're going to get.  We get taken to do some souvenir shopping, then to a mosque and a water village where Mike gives us all the mission of talking to 3 strangers (we squeak by with some hellos, though admittedly, our collective effort could have been better).  We head to dinner at one of the houses of a frisbee player, and then we settle into a few hours of tea and cookies at the hosts' house (Brunei is a dry country).  Kay entertained us with cheese jokes and drunken stories, all in the Queen's perfect English.  Amy and I shared our travel stories.  When it was time to catch our flight, Mike, because he is awesome, not only took us to the airport at 1am, but he also let Kay and Faye, people who he had just met a few hours prior b/c they looked like the lost foreigners that they were, stay at their house for the night (and who knows, maybe even for longer).  I cannot think of a better way our time in Brunei could have been spent. (Above right is the whole crew, minus Mike, who's taking the photo, in front of the Sultan's palace).

Again, these two stories are not tales of spectacular feats or daring conquests (that comes in the next post), but they bring a smile to my face every time I tell them.  For those of you who have spent your fair share of time on the road, you know what I'm talking about:  Sometimes trips are hard and inconvenient.  But, more often than not, if you're open, if you're friendly, if you're willing to take a bit of a chance, you'll find people who not only help you to get where you're going, but who make the journey that much more enjoyable.  We had that in spades on this trip, which is another reminder to pay it forward when you can.  As Mike put it, "I want to live in a house on the side of a road and be a friend to man."

Fun Brunei fact of the day: the Sultan's palace, the Istana Nurul Iman, is the world's largest single family residence.

-More to come-

upcoming: decade number 4

Hey all,

Most people turn 30 only once, and I am no exception.  I had my big 3-0 two Saturdays ago and made a whole weekend out of it.  First, what I really wanted to do was go jump off something, so we found a spot where we'd at least be able to land in water.  It was pretty windy, so throwing Frisbees to each other (or yourself) was extremely difficult and yielded no actual pass -to-catch connections.  That afternoon and evening, I participated in my weekly Hash run.  I'll write more in depth about hashing in a future post, but for the time being, just know that it involves running through the wilderness with beer at the end.  Instead of writing further about Saturday, I decided to put the day in video form with one of my favorite all-time songs in the background.

To top off the birthday celebration, on Sunday, we hit up an all-you-can-drink champagne brunch at one of the nice hotels.  When it goes from 11am-3pm, you can take long breaks between courses and continuously switch back from sashimi and oysters to strawberries and marshmallows dipped in a chocolate fountain.  Plus, the beach is right outside, so you can just roll yourself out and enjoy your first beautiful oceanside afternoon as a 30 something.

I haven't been on Guam that long, but I had plenty of people to celebrate with, something I am quite grateful for.  After 30 years on this Earth, I've learned that wherever you are, it's good to have good people with you.

-More to come-