There's a reason its not called the "Alright Ocean Road"

Yesterday we concluded a full 4 days on the Great Ocean Road.  Ed piloted our sessy slate Toyota Corolla around windy, sheer cliffs, up gravel mountain passes, and through countless beachside towns.

We started our journey in Torquay at the Surf Museum where we learned that surfers in the 60s were really skinny and smoked a lot of weed.  We followed this up with the obvious visit to Bell's Beach, where major surf competitions are held.  Unfortunately we arrived mid-afternoon and there weren't any wave riders to ogle.  I think they prefer to ride at dusk when the white sharks feed.

We stopped in the town of Anglesea because we had read that kangaroos hung out on the golf course.  I wasn't holding my breath, because I figured this was like promising a dear spotting in Connecticut - like, the odds are pretty good, but there's no guarantee one is going to show up.  Apparently Australian animals are more predictable:

After checking the first animal off of our Australian wildlife bingo cards, we motored on to Aireys Inlet to see our 2nd or 3rd lighthouse of the day.  This one was mighty impressive; my Mom and I surmised that high gloss paint was employed.

As my FB brethren know, bookings here have been a bit of challenge due to the summer holidays and "the tennis."  So I was a little uneasy when the only affordable accommodation I could source that afternoon was at a "tourist park" in Wye River.  Limited on time and options, and with both Ed and Penny boring holes into my brain across the picnic table, I called.  I used my nicest Yankee manners to get a break on the price, and booked us into a cabin at the campsite.  After an obesity inducing dinner in Lorne (never order a large anything in Australia.  never ever ever) we hopped in the car for the final leg to the campground and held our breath as we pulled in.

Our 2 bedroom cabin was located on "Koala Road" within the camp and as we pulled up, we were all very quiet.  I think, as Americans, we might be slightly, snottily, predisposed when it comes to motor homes and the like and this place was full of them.   Imagine our surprise when we unlocked the door to find the tidiest, most spacious, well equipped, shiny new rooms we've inhabited in months.  After the best night of sleep we'd had in ages, complimentary coffee and mind bogglingly good muffins from the "world famous" general store at the bottom of the road, we continued down the coast for day 2 of epic views and wild water.  Rugged! G'day!

Queenscliff. Pack your steamer trunks.

Sometimes a place that we stop is so lovely, so expectation exceeding, so singularly charming, it seems like it was built on a sound stage so some scenes from our trip could be filmed there.  Queenscliff came with high praise from our Aussie friends, and it now ranks in my top 5 towns/cities of the last 6 months.

During the Australian gold rush in the late 1800's, Queenscliff was the seaside destination for the super-wealthy.  The Southampton of Oz.  Huge Victorian hotels sprang up to service the fabulous coming in from Melbourne via paddle steamer and later from Geelong when the train was built.  The thing that makes it so unusual, though, is that the heyday is long past.  After car travel became possible, Queenscliff cooled way off.  The train service was reduced and then cancelled.  The rich built grander houses in other seaside villages destinations.  And what's left is a glorious, architecturally perfect, virtually forgotten ocean town, population: 1400.

Queenscliff is very "Ye Olde Post Office"-y which I sometimes hate (see: Colonial Williamsburg).  But I think because it feels abandoned rather than manufactured, its just plain magical.  We spent a too-short 24 hours browsing the main street shoppes (har), wandering the coast where the antique trains have retired to, haunting our ancient, fabulous hotel, and eating every delicious thing we came across.  I hope to return in short order.

Ye Olde Post Office:

Our hotel.  As the proprietor put it "We're just a country pub with rooms upstairs.  But they're clean and tidy and we're happy to have you." Bless.

Melbourne & the Mornington Peninsula

Travelling in Australia is easy peasy lemon squeezy.  SE Asia was like one long negotiation and in contrast, being here amidst the friendliest people on earth, it almost feels like we're travel cheating.  One of my last interactions in Thailand was bargaining over the price of contact lenses in a bargain mall.  One of my first interactions in Australia was with the proprietor of a hotel.  We had booked a large room to accommodate the 3 of us and, upon arrival, the owner asked how we were all related.  After telling him, he checked us in and gave us 2 rooms for the price of the original one, so we could spread out. So, um, slightly different vibe, overall.

An awesome Aussie family we met in Chiang Mai gave us an amazing download of Melbourne and surrounding recommendations, so we barely had to research upon arrival.  We didn't have many days to fully explore Melbourne, but were able to cruise the Victoria Market, use the free wifi and visit the museum at Federation Square and wander around St. Kilda.  We had cocktails at the fantastically old school and punk rock Hotel Esplanade and watched the kite surfers fly over the bay.  We read that one could see penguins at dusk, but since the sun sets here after 9 pm, dinner took precedence.

We left Melbourne on the left hand side of the road and cruised down the Mornington Peninsula.  We stopped at Schnapper Point for lunch and a walk, visited a maze and gardens on an old estate, and climbed down butt breaking steps to some seriously violent wind and water at Cape Schanck.  We chose the maze because we thought my Mom would really enjoy it, but all of us were pretty down with running through the 10 foot hedges.  It made us feel woozy, and secret garden-like.

The following day, Ed was at the helm for the drive to Sorrento for shopping and beaching.  Its a swanky and pristine little beach community that manages to have ample parking for the serious Aussie waders, a ton of beige and breezy boutiques, and a couple of old school hotels on the water.  We spent a lovely, chill day there, and departed glamorously via car ferry to Queenscliff.  Fortunately, I had recently acquired appropriate headwear for just such an occassion.  Sadly, there is not yet flattering photo reference available.  You'll have to take my word that its straw and has a nice Montecarlo vibe.  I'm acclimating.

Do you come from a land down under? Where women glow and men plunder?

G'day y'all!  We made it to Melbourne - about a 20 hour trip from Bangkok.  We flew AirAsia, which I kind of can't recommend enough.  Its a low-cost carrier here, and our tickets were about 1/3 of what we thought they'd be.  Which leaves money for buying steaks and a pet kangaroo.  AirAsia is sort of JetBlue or RyanAir style, but with a few nice touches.  Por ejemplo, one can rent an ePlayer for the flight which is loaded with movies and TV shows.  We've not done this before, but since we had a full 9 hours to enjoy we thought this was a good opportunity.  We watched the "A-Team" and it was surprisingly B.A.

Hot travel tip: when travelling with someone, do not leave home without a headphone splitter.  This has allowed us to share iPods (thus cutting down on the need for charging), ePlayers, watch stuff on our laptop, etc.  At some point I need to make a list of all the handy travel tips we've gathered on this trip.  Put some good travel karma back into the world... I'll get to work on that.

So far Melbourne its sunny, breezy, and the people are mucho friendly.  The city seems like the love child of Portland and London, I'm pretty sure I want to live here.  The coffee is crazy good, the streets are immaculate, and the public transport is awesome.  Melbourne is smaller than I'd thought it would be - we walked a pretty good chunk of it yesterday even with jet lag and a short night's sleep.  We wandered through the downtown business district, sampled at Victoria Market and watched the boats practicing at Docklands in prep for the Audi regata.

We're staying in the village of South Yarra which seems pretty fancy.  Tons of coffee shops, boutiques, and well-preserved housewives in workout gear.  The US Dollar is still in the pooper so we have a bit of sticker shock as compared to Thailand.  Fortunately, even in my parasitic haze we were able to make some critical shopping trips in BK and stock up before we arrived.  Even so, all the chocked-full-of-beautiful-boutiques are calling to me.  Hear them?  They're like, "ROOODDDDNNEEEEYYYY!!!! BBBBBBUUUUUUUUYYYYYYYY SSSTTTUUUFFFFFF!"

In mere moments I'm headed back to the Melbourne Airport to collect my Mom, who should be an absolute basket case after 36 hours of travel on 4 flights and a 16 hour time difference.  Perhaps I'll get her a cup of the coffee that I just drank, which had a scoop of ice cream in it.  With caramel and rock salt and god knows what other addictives.  I shouldn't be allowed this in the morning because it makes me feel like dancing and writing in ALL CAPS.  BECAUSE THAT'S HOW IT SOUNDS IN MY HEAD.  SO MUCH SUGAR! GOTTA GO!

Parasites and travel malaise

Hello lovely readers.  I'm sorry I've been among the missing for over a week.  Apparently the parasite that I picked up ages ago on Lanta is still hanging about.  It would seem that the antibiotics I fed it in Cambodia only put it to sleep for a few weeks.  Now that its well rested its extra nasty.  As such, the last week in Chiang Mai and Bangkok have been pretty mellow. 

I'm feeling slackery on all fronts.  The bright side is that tomorrow we head to Australia for part II of our adventure.  I think we're ready to do something new and being in an English-speaking place, with my Mom (!) feels like something to get jazzed about. 

On the upside, being sick has given us the opportunity to see 3 movies in as many days in Bangkok.  Megamind (in 3D) was snoozers.  The Tourist had some significant holes in the plot, but Angelina looked bananas.  The big surprise was Burlesque, which was g-d amazing.  We both thoroughly enjoyed it, even Cher's performance as a drag queen robot. 

As soon as my fever breaks, I'm going to bore you with all the details of our time in North Thailand.  In short, it was awesome, and we're going to miss Thailand a whole bunch.

Scooterin'... playin' ska on my walkmen.

Though not a daredevil in any sense, I have a tendency to look at activities beloved by the masses and think to myself/say to someone nearby 'how hard can it be?' Since we've been in SE Asia, this has been particularly true of riding a motorbike. Scooters are far and away the most popular mode of transportation, which is logical in places where fueling a car would be prohibitively expensive for the general public and paved roads are more a luxury than an expectation. As such, thousands of bikes clog the streets of Saigon and Vietnam.

And what's most striking is that the drivers multi-task in much the same way I would in a car. I've seen people drive a bike while texting, applying makeup, drinking tea, eating ice cream, fiddling with a radio, and on and on. And in terms of hauling, some of the feats we've witnessed seem downright anti-gravitational. Its not uncommon to see a whole family on one scooter thusly: Dad driving, while straddling young child who's head comes just above the handlebars, Mom behind holding infant in her arms, and toddler wedged between. I've seen two men on a scooter, the one in back holding a 26 inch tube TV on his shoulder.  Also, a guy balancing a boxed washing machine on the back holding it only by the packing strap, a man carrying a load of i-bars to a construction job across his shoulder, 4 elementary aged kids headed to school on one cycle, and many other two-wheeled feats that seemed nearly impossible.

All this led me to believe that I could easily and instinctively ride a motorbike. Which I can. But let me just say for the record, it is neither easy nor instinctive. After lying to the rental company about having ridden before and watching a few other people take off, I asked Ed to meet me at a corner a few blocks away. I needed to test it out before having him on the back, and I didn't want the rental folks to see my first attempts at stopping and going. I shoved off and found my balance quickly, but sharp turns proved a bit more challenging. For someone who has been riding a bike forever, instinct says you can put one or both feet down as brake assist. Which you can, but it doesn't actually slow something with an engine.

But I'm learning.  Scootering has the elements of riding a bicycle that I enjoy, but fast, and sans pesky pedaling. Cruising through the hills of Pai on back roads, stopping at whatever roadside stand we happen upon, having total freedom to pop into town for an ice cream or some bamboo clothing has really changed our experience. And Pai was made for it.

A few days in, we're scooting all over Pai, mostly staying in the left lane where we belong. Collectively we remind me that right turns are the big ones here (referred to mentally as Cross McFarlane), and that we need to look left at intersections. And you know what? I love it. I love it, and I want one.

The shortcut from our bungalow to town:

The Life of Pai

We've been in Pai, Thailand for just over a week, and I've personally been proving out the old adage about doing the least when one has the least to do. I'm not sure where the last 7 days went, but at this point we've pretty much scrapped the 2 last cities we'd intended to hit on our way back to Bangkok and are embracing the sloth.

Pai is a beautiful little hippy refuge. There are quite a few crusty dreadlocked geezers wandering the hills, but also huge numbers of Thai folks from Chiang Mai and Bangkok that come in on the weekends. It feels a little touristy, but in the most low key, hempy way. There's nothing here, per se, its just beautiful and super laid back. It would be like if someone travelling to the US ended up hanging out in the Poconos for 8 days. Not the Hamptons, not the Cape, but the Poconos. Where its chill and people fish and there isn't shit to do but drink beer and grill. That's what Pai is, but with weed and curry instead.

In our time, we've visited a waterfall, a canyon, some hot springs, and had daily walks in the fields during the gloaming to see the sunset. Each night the main streets close to pedestrians and one can wander for hours, trying on knit hats and Malaysian fisherman pants; eating noodles and street food and watching the rest of the town do the same.

Its basically heaven. And accomplishing anything, including slopping together a few sentences to make a blog entry, really takes it out of me. Its like when I used to have something work related to do over the weekend. Even if it was just an email that needed sending and I had a full 56 hours to get her done, I would invariably let it sit and fester until 9 pm on Sunday evening when I no longer had a choice. Pai is like that. We lengthened our visit here from 4 nights to 6 to 8 and now plan to leave on the 12^th. After our 2^nd extension, the owner of the bungalows where we're staying said “Why don't you just tell me the day before you're leaving. That way, you can stay 2 months if you feel like it.” Its so tempting that, to cement our resolve, we went and purchased our bus tickets back to Chiang Mai. 

Being here has made me think that I could get used to small town life. We see the same people again and again. There's an insanely good coffee place in the mountains. I've found a good yoga class that meets at 10 am everyday. Sunday night is live ska at the Reggae Bar. An excellent Italian restaurant sits on the main street. We're used to being spoiled by choice, but I'm starting to think that the limitless options we had in NYC aren't germane to our happiness.  In fact, I like running in to the same strangers. They're nice and we make dumb jokes about being extras in a Woodstock documentary.   If it weren't 24 hours from the east coast, we might just settle here.

travelin' reading list, part V (aren't roman numerals fancy?)

Since 2011 began, we've been mostly in hammocks in the nature, reading.  Also, there is a flying cockroach the size of a pine cone circling the picnic table as I type this in virtual darkness.  Just FYI. 

Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer

The story of Chris McCandless, a young and adventurous soul is at once exhilarating and infuriating. Why such a bright and apparently charismatic 20 something year old would unnecessarily try to survive in the Alaskan wilderness with little preparation and few supplies is mind blowing.  Not a first hand account, this book is part bio/part history compiled from interviews, letters and diary entries written by McCandless, and articles published around the time of his disappearance.  The details about the Alaskan wilderness and Krakauer's seeming obsession with understanding what, exactly, happened to McCandless makes it worth reading. But more than anything I walked away thinking that a perfectly good life was foolishly wasted.

Funny Boy by Shyam Selvadurai

Chelsey gave me this book when we were in Bangkok; its about a young boy growing up amidst major civil conflict in 70s Sri Lanka.  Also, he was gay, and really into musical theater. The narrator is often hilarious (although the title refers to gay slang of the time) and captures the tone and feeling of young love and the unfairness of adolescence so pitch perfectly that I was wholly transported. Not since I watched the first “Twilight” movie have the memories of my school days come back with such force. Just a lovely coming of age tale and quite informative if, like me, you weren't aware of Sri Lanka's troubled past.

Grand Theft: Confessions of a Master Jewel Thief by Bill Mason

This was on a bookshelf at our hotel in Mui Ne, Vietnam and I picked it up based solely on the cover. Its a first hand account of an uber-jewel thief and his pursuits in the heady days of 60s celebrity Florida. The author detailed in describing his capers and occasionally remorseful, though perfectly honest about his pride in pulling off some of his jobs. I found myself flying through the pages, fingers crossed that he wouldn't be hurt or arrested. I just liked the guy. And the book.

Catfish & Mandala by Andrew Pham

Super extra must-read edition. I started this when we were in Phan Thiet, Vietnam, which is also where some of it is set. A unique view of the country from the perspective of a twenty-something who was born there and escaped to the US as a child after the fall of the South Vietnamese government. Like a dog who will only take a pill hidden in a hot dog, even I learned about the war and the fraught history of Vietnam through this superbly written memoir. Although there has been no shortage of mocking the title (seriously, what editor let that slide by) I absolutely loved this book and trot out my new-got knowledge of Vietnamese history like a proud school kid.

The Poor Little Rich Girl by Eleanor Gates

Funny story. Molly recommended Poor Little Rich Girl: the Barbara Hutton story to me while we were in Tokyo. In shopping for it through Kindle's online store, I mistook this book for that one and downloaded it. Only when I was approximately half way through and the eponymous little rich girl was still in the nursery and not yet blowing rails off of a Matisse painting did I start to think something was amiss. The book I was reading is not good. Hopefully when the intended title is available for Kindle, I will fare better.

When Broken Glass Floats: Growing Up Under the Khmer Rouge by Chanrithy Him

We were in Cambodia for all of 10 days, which is 9 more than you need to see the impact of the civil war and heartbreaking legacy of the Khmer Rouge. I read somewhere that if you're  speaking to a Cambodian over the age of 30, you're talking to a survivor. That is a true fact, friends, and it is scary as hell. The history has a lot of participants; the US, Vietnamese, and Chinese involvement had all colluded to confuse me, but this account pretty much cleared it up. Written by a girl who lived through the rice-producing reign of the Khmer Rouge, this memoir gives a detailed first hand account of how it all went down. Its horrible, its sad, and, incidentally, it makes no fucking sense. I'm just saying, Pol Pot, if you're going to round up a bunch of your countrymen and murder them with hoes, perhaps spare some doctors to take care of the troops and all the folks you're starving. The anti-intellectual credo is hard for Americans to grasp, but here you have it. The day to day of this book can drag a bit (as I'm certain it did for the author), but overall its eye opening and educational. 

In closing, here's Ed, enjoying "Catfish & Mandala" which I force-read him by coaxing him into a seat he can't get out of and tossing in the paperback.

 

Thailand Part II, the return of Thailand

Since we're heading to the English-speaking, developed world of Oceania in just a short while, we're using this stint in Thailand to take full advantage of low cost goods and services. We arrived in Bangkok on December 20^th, checked in with our old friends at the Atlanta, and went to work on Phase I of our stock-up strategy.

Day 1: We hit the cheap mall (MBK) for bargain threads to replace the duds in need of retirement. The clothes there are plentiful, cheap, and uniquely Thai. Which means we're both rocking a groovier style than usual, although I have yet to give in to the harem pant that's the uniform of travelers in SE Asia.  Its hard to resist a crotch that hits at the ankle, but I've employed an iron will. We saw “The Social Network” and ate another amazing dinner at the Siam Paragon food court.

Day 2: We had met brother-sister team Trevor and Ashley on our flight from Phnom Penh and they came along to the Atlanta with us. Trevor was having a suit made and spoke highly of the Bangkok tailor he'd been using. So, we hit Raja's Shop on Sukhumvit in the morning and chose material for 7 shirts (the 7^th one's free, of course) for Eduardo. In the afternoon we visited the much-beloved V. Siam Optical to get some new specs for Ed. Then we wandered the trendy Thonglor neighborhood, visited the Thai Center for Design and ate mind-blowing street noodles. By evening the glasses were ready for pick up and we and headed back to Raja's for a fitting. They're gorgeous, the work is flawless, and each costs less than a shirt from the Gap.

Day 3: Kicked off the day with the Herald Trib and pots of our favorite coffee in Thailand at the Atlanta dining room. Then to the Bangkok post office to mail home souvenirs and excess crap. A 5.5 kg box to the US for about $35. Can't beat it. Also not beaten? The train to the BK airport which runs every 15 minutes, takes 25 in travel time, and costs $.50/person. How does New York not have this? And I mean from the island of Manhattan, none of this Queens Airtrain b.s.

On our return to Bangkok in 10 days or so, Phase II will commence with the purchase of contact lenses, prescription medication, teeth cleaning at the fancy dental spa, and anything else we can justify buying. Its going to be Thai-style “Supermarket Sweep” but with gauzy tops and hand tooled leather. Woot.

(Kids that day on Sukumvit singing carols.  Brought to you by Citibank.  Which, obviously, is why Santa is wearing blue.)

Smack it up, flip it, rub it down, oh no.

We're almost finished with Asia and will head down under in a few short weeks. We're ready to communicate in English (well, Australian) but will miss affordable pampering. As such, I tip my 40 oz. to the varied and sometimes painful therapeutic services rendered in this hemisphere.

China – The Chinese are really good at foot reflexology and, like everything, they take it way seriously. Any neighborhood salon will offer insanely thorough, highly painful treatment for about $7/hour. The Chinese have these treatments regularly to maintain general balance and well being. Reflexology can hurt, but I enjoy it and find the connection between the bottoms of my feet and the rest of my body fascinating. Often the therapist hit on a pressure point that made my stomach flip, or my arm stiffen, or my face relax. It feels more medical and, thus, beneficial than most massage. The bummer is that each time I had reflexology I felt awful afterward. The toxins that are broken up during the treatment (along with my reserves of MSG) release into the blood stream and then I have to lie down. That said, if I could do 1 thing every week and experience cumulative results, this is what I'd choose.

Korea – Jimjilbangs are the way. Huge complexes with 5-10 floors of baths, saunas, movie theaters, restaurants, mini golf, bars, roof terraces, and treatment rooms. I love the variety of baths; hot, cold, jasmine, salt, jets, wood tubs, stone tubs, outdoors, etc. Its weirdly calming to spend several hours wandering from sauna to pool to sauna, pausing only to be scrubbed by a lady wearing oven mitts made of Brillo pads, and beaten with a palm frond. I'm not sure I felt long term effects, but there are worse ways to spend a Wednesday.

Thailand – Thai massage is a unique practice. Done clothed, its like partner yoga with the masseuse using her weight to leverage yours. I love Thai massage, though its far more active than any other I've had. About $6-10/hr for a high-quality place, a lot of massage joints have only sheets separating the beds or are completely open air. I've seen a few where the beds look out onto ocean/mountains/river in pretty locales. The therapists are often sweet and exceptionally tiny girls. But they're suprisingly, freakishly strong. They work hard to stretch and lift and manipulate our big 'Merican bodies, and they're tired and sweaty at the end just like we are. One girl that I saw a few times on Lanta would crouch behind me at the end of the massage and pull my back over her knees, cracking every vertebrae on the way down. Then she would giggle, and hug me around the shoulders and whisper "feeneesh."  Love.

Vietnam – Massage in Vietnam is a combination of Acupressure, Shiatsu, and a little Thai. Like everything in Vietnam, the therapists do exactly and only what is required so the customer doesn't complain. The massages aren't bad, and one place Gabe took us was actually quite nice. But on our own we had the typical Vietnam experience: 55 minutes instead of an hour, long unexplained breaks, a few cell phone conversations during the treatment. Not the best.

Cambodia – The Khmer have an understandable chip on their shoulder because their kingdom used to be all-powerful and then several surrounding countries invaded and nicked their ideas, traditions and artifacts. Cambodians claim that Khmer massage gave birth to Thai massage, which is a lesser imitation. For my money, Khmer is probably my favorite stylistically and made me most lump-of-clay-monosyllabic. Less like a midevil torture rack than Thai, technically superior to Vietnamese, not as painful as Chinese. Hard and thorough, it was the perfect way to end a day of templing in 100 degree weather.

Funnily, I wrote this before we went out today and we ended up having massages this afternoon at a joint in downtown Pai.  Clearly I'm serious about research and accurate reporting.  Like the Fox News team, but for a blog.  Perhaps a first?

Maps for Blogger

Are any of my technically minded friends out there familiar with a way to add a map that tracks a travel route to a blog?  E & I have each spent quite a few hours trying to do this, and I'm ready to give up. 

I'm putting it to the universe and if no one out there knows, I'm going to assume its impossible.  Like believable hair extensions and good airplane food. 

Also, Happy '11.  I'm in  maybe the most beautiful place in Thailand.  Life does NOT suck.