A Cautionary Tale

We took an overnight train to Agra – economy 2^nd sleeper, which means you get three tiers of bunks, and the aisles are busy with food and drink sellers going up and down, and cries of “pani water pani water”, “chai chai chaieeee”, “samosa samosa samosa”. We snatched a few winks of sleep in the gently rocking carriage, and arrived early in the morning to the bustling station.

We had decided to buy our tickets on to Dehradun while we were there, but as the general allowance of tickets had run out (as per usual), we had to wait for the 'tatkal' tickets, which you pay a bit more for. There was a girl managing the line and letting everyone know what was going on. For a while we were able to keep track of who was where in the line, but in the hour before the tickets came available we had to go back and keep our place in the line.

I stood there, people elbowing, packed together (even though there was so much space behind us!), with a short stand-in by Jasmine K after they got some breakfast, until finally we got our tickets, wedged ourselves into a tuk-tuk, and headed for our hostel. We got there, he asked for our passports, I started digging through my bag, and then with a mild puzzlement dug through it again, and then carefully took out everything and put it back.. with a growing sense of alarm I did the same again, ad checked my other bag. By this time the others had realised something was up: I had lost my passport.

Back to the tuk-tuk driver (who was hanging about cos he was still trying to sell us a tour), and back we flew the way we came. We had stopped on the way to take a picture of the Taj Mahal, and I remembered my bag being quite full and juggling things when I fished out my camera, so I thought maybe my passport bag had fallen out there. If it had, there was perhaps one chance in a million that it would still be there. Jasmine and I went up and down the road to no avail. Next stop: the train station. Off we sped, my mind running over all the possibilities and courses of action, trying to work out how bad the worst scenario was going to be.

I went into the ticket room, looked around, and was directed to go ask the station manager. On the way out I saw, mud-stained, crumpled, in a pile of rubbish, my passport packet. My heart just dropped. It was empty.

I continued miserably to the office, and told the manager my story. He nodded, told me to sit down and asked my name. “Jasmin” I said.

He went over to the cupboard, opened it, and handed me my passport. I nearly cried with relief. Thanked him roundly, and left. He said that the sweeping lady had handed it in. I had had a cash card, and US and Thai baht adding to about AU$75. I imagine either someone took it, or it somehow dropped out of my bag when I was in that crazy ticket line.. and whoever took it for some reason just made off with the money and not the passport – even though the passport is worth soo much more on the black market. Crazy. I couldn't believe it.

So yeah, keep being careful with your passports, ok?

Life on the Sunny Side..

When we were in Varanasi, we had a guy jump into our taxi on the way from the airport, who then led us to our guesthouse. We bumped into him a few times after that during the week – he would hang out near a stall that did the best mango shakes in the city (or so they say. Despite our limited experience, we were happy to agree).

Anyway, this small, dapper little man was named Sunny. He showed us around a couple of times, winding through the cobblestoned alleys of the Old City, pointing out 'cheap and best' restaurant places, sighing heavily if he thought we had been ripped off by someone.. The first time or two we were obviously a bit skeptical of him.. Georgie, with a mix of anxiety and annoyance, burst out asking what he expected of us.. He seemed a little surprised, and simply said that he didn't have any expectation, and that he thought that friendship was more important than money.. Which is of course a little unusual for a self-proclaimed tour guide, but which, in the safety of a group of people, I was happy to accept.

On our second-last day we bumped into him again and he helped us find a good pharmacy and then another good restaurant.. anyway one thing led to another and he ended up inviting us to come and eat at his home the next day and meet his mother! Ok, we said. What could go wrong?

Anyway, after a whole series of adventures the next morning trying to find the River Ashram – which is a story in itself (we trekked along the whole length of the ghats, circled temples, went all the way to a cricket stadium, stopped at a 'bread of life' cafe for food, almost gave up but then a random guy in the cafe ended up knowing it and leading us there.. and it was a beautiful oasis of flowers and rugged old arched walls and interesting, people-loving folks..). So yes, then we met up with Sunny and a Chilean friend he'd made the day before, he hailed a few cycle-rickshaws, and we headed to the other side of town.

While we were waiting for lunch (which was delicious puffy fried puris, vegies and sambal) he told us all about his recent trip to France. He had met this french couple a few years ago, and they became best buddies – he called the woman his french mama. Then last year they organised everything for him to be able to come and visit them in France. He showed us photo after photo of his time there, and it was so beautiful. You could just see the joy shining in his eyes.. We'd ask him what he thought of this or that over there, and it was always “too much, I liked it too much!”

My favourite episode was when they were travelling out to the border with Switzerland, and the train stopped at a station where he saw his first snow. He and the guy jumped off the train to take a couple of photos of him in it, and the next thing they knew the train, and the french mama, were chugging off into the distance without him!! Oh dear. “I'll never forget that day, and that town, where I miss my train..” he says.

He told us that some of his rich relatives were jealous of him, because he has just his little house with his mother - and they have so much - but they have never been outside India, and it would be near impossible for them to get the visa to go to Europe, like he did. And so Sunny, just through his friendships, had been given all this..

“You know,” he says, “some people are hungry for money, but I am hungry for love.” And as funny as that sounds, you can see where his valuing of relationships took him!

Fishing Trip – Karen Style

While visiting Sangkla Buri we were helping to lay a concrete floor for house extensions, digging a pit for sewerage, and beginning to build another toilet. One afternoon we took a break from our labours and went on a fishing trip. But this wasn't just any fishing trip. We set off, a few of us piled into the cab and the rest in the back of the ute. We stopped off at a friend's place and collected some nets, bamboo poles, and a crinkle-faced little old lady.

Off we drove, winding round bumpy, overgrown country tracks, hunting for a good fishing spot. The first place we got out was too deep for net-dragging, but a couple of the guys still gave it a go. A few other boys were dispatched with sacks to gather cow pats for the garden, as people often grazed their cows or buffalo on the fertile river flats.

We headed to a new spot, leaving two of the guys to walk. Apparently they said not to wait, but I saw them running and shouting after the ute as we drove off so I'm not so sure.. ;)

At the next place the old lady and Dee's sister in law teamed up with one of the nets, and a few other guys teamed up as well. Blair took off with his own net, hurling it hopefully into the river from place to place, then pulling it back up again.

We girls followed a couple more kids across the river to gather edible flowers and leaves from the trees there. We filled a couple of sacks and then two of the boys seized them from us and dragged them back across. A couple of other kids went around the banks and submerged trees to check for big black river snails. Apparently all the children love them – the adults not so much..

Eventually all the troops were rounded up and the catches displayed. Each of the guys had caught a few little silver ones, but the toothless granny triumphed, scooping out 10 or 15 one by one from a mysterious fold in her sarong. She then settled herself in the tray of the ute, a whisked out a fat handmade cigarette and a lighter from her headscarf, not a bit damp!

On the way home we also gathered some long green bamboo poles of a particular variety that was good for making bamboo sticky rice. So there we were – packed into the back, with fish, bamboo, cow dung, leafy greens, and many happy muddy people.

The Business of Baking

Soon after we arrived in Bangkok to stay with our Karen friends (who are part of the displaced/refugee subculture from Burma), Dee ascertained that I could bake. She led us to a large, oil-stained, cockroach-infested box containing a small portable oven which she had bought a couple of years ago. She had made a couple of attempts at baking, but after a series of failures gave up and the box was adopted by the kitchen's less-than-savoury inhabitants.

We were set to work. Cake number 1: Banana. There were no cake tins, so we improvised by cooking in the trays that came with the oven – wide, flat cakes. Banana cake – a double mix – was baked and eaten in record time. Spurred on by this initial success, Dee gave us a new mission.

It was decided that we would bake cakes for church on Sunday, in case it was someone's birthday – two cakes, this time with icing. So on Saturday we baked pineapple cake and butter cake (double mixes each, naturally). Dee and Pipi eyed off the sticky, golden, sweet-smelling pineapple cake (and stole a sneaky corner nibble) only for a short while before deciding that we definitely didn't need both for church and so we should probably eat one today. This attempt evoked even stronger approval.. except for the fact that not everyone got two pieces (there are about 25 people living in the house).

The next day Dee enquired in the service as to whether it was anyone's birthday. It wasn't, so we had unbirthday cake instead.

The next week, Dee decided that we would share the wonders of cake with the children at Sangkla Buri. Christoph packed the oven up in its box, we packed the ute, and away we went. We arrived in Sangkla that evening to discover that Christoph had packed the oven but forgotten to actually put it in the car. Oops. No cake for the kids this time.

On the weekend, back in Bangkok, we made double pineapple cake, double potato bake – people kept coming into the kitchen for this one, and seeing the cheese melting on top, enquired hopefully “pizza?”. “not pizza, potato”, we said. I don't think it really cleared things up much. We rounded off the weekend with a batch of butterscotch pudding. It was practically inhaled by the crew.

The next week we took the oven to make cake for the kids at Plang Ha. We were almost there when Blair suddenly realised that no one had remembered to put the trays in! He had seen them sitting there, and told someone else to do it but they had also forgotten.. Dee was so unimpressed, it was quite funny. Usually she's far too busy laughing to ever be annoyed, but cake is a very serious business. Dee didn't want to disappoint the kids, so we improvised. We took a break from house-building, bought some semi-flat-bottomed metal bowls from the village store, and balanced them on a wire BBQ rack, which was balanced on a ceramic bowl between the elements. 6 vaguely dome-shaped pineapple cakes later, I think we managed to fill everyone.

Our final baking adventure was on the Sunday afternoon. Dee asked if we wanted to bless the people of Ratchaburi, where we were heading that night. How can you say no to that?!?! She summoned some support, and I wrote a ridiculous shopping list and whizzed away on the motorbike with Blair. We came back, juggling 30 eggs, 30 bananas, several bags of sugar and flour, and a huge tub of butter.

Next Christoph with his superior mixing powers was summoned. With Dee supervising, and Georgie, Christoph and I adding and mixing, we powered 4 double-sized cakes through in record time. Then we balanced them on laps in the cab and the back of the ute for the 1 ½ hour ride. Once there, after the service, they fed us a ridiculously large dinner, and we fed them cake. Everyone was satisfied.

In which we avoid being eaten by dragons and other general adventuring..

Well, I have been thinking I should probably update you on the vietnam happenings.. I think I left you with the creative restaurant tout in Nha Trang. We'll skip over Mui Ne briefly - there we hung out with some dutch girls and crazy brits, and took a jeep ride out to the sand dunes and fairy springs. Our driver decided his little lime green vehicle was king of the road, and his blaring horns let everyone know it! Halfway through he also decided that it was the party jeep, and belted out some pounding dance beats from the sub woofer located under Georgie's seat...

We explored and ate and snorkelled our way through Nha Trang, and then took off up into the mountains, where we discovered farms of flowers, strawberries, a delightful waterfall to play in, a silk factory, and other interesting things. 

Also this fellow:

I'm glad to report that none of us were eaten, but he did give us a start! the freakish fellow was several metres high and looped his way all around the garden in front of a pagoda - ostensibly to protect the Buddha within.

We also discovered the 'Crazy House'. It's kind of difficult to explain, but it really was like a (not quite finished) wonderland (of the Alice variety). We ran all over, in and around it for a good hour or two!

Then it was off back to Ho Chi Minh City. We did however sneak in a quick trip down to the Mekong Delta as well, based in the sleepy little town of Ben Tre (Vietnam, quiet?! yeah truly, more or less ;)). We took a boat trip around some of the river and canals, which was muddy and pretty and a different picture again of a village-y part of Vietnamese life. Everyone was industriously plying their little trades, but in a way that also makes you feel like they have all the time in the world.

How about spending a night on this little vessel?!

We slurped our final Pho, trundled back to Saigon, and away.. 

We've been staying with friends in Thailand a few days now. We've predominantly been cooking and eating, with a fair bit of singing and playing with wild but undeniably cute kids as well..

Off to Sangkla Buri tomorrow to visit more children!

A night in the life of a restaurant tout..

A couple of nights ago we discovered a mini-restaurant or stall in the midst of a night market in Nha Trang. It boasted a vast, pretty cheap menu - and all cooked in a kitchen about the size of a small trailer - with at least 7 people squashed in there. What we found most entertaining, however, was the tout - the dude at the front of the restaurant attempting to entice potential customers into the sitting down, eating and paying variety..

So, as a restaurant tout:

You begin the night hopeful, focused, committed to your task, dressed to impress. You smile, nod, beckon, gesture, flourish the menu, guide people in. 

Gradually the first few crops of people come through, the restaurant fills up, you swell with confidence.

The night builds, the dinner peak arrives, people are open and eager and easy to convince. The tables remain filled. You relax a little, maybe sit awhile. Maybe even sneak a bite to eat yourself. 

As the night begins to ebb, you redouble your efforts. 

You march to and fro, spout bits of english, vietnamese, russian.

You wave your menu. You wave it some more.

You dart from side to side of the passing crowds. 

You accost someone's girlfriend, earnestly thrusting the menu beneath her face. When that doesn't work, you grab her boyfriend and gesture and speak even more convincingly (you hope). Your voice rises to fever pitch.

You squawk with offended shock when you are refused, once again.

You twirl your menu,  walking into the thoroughfare with it spinning up on one finger. Perhaps if people are impressed enough they will eat here?

You attach yourself to groups and march backwards to stay with them longer.

You sit down for a moment.

You hold your menu on your head so that people can still see it (surely that'll still work!).

You drop the menu.

You light a cigarette.

You march again, singing, whistling, twirling, smoking, laughing, throwing a smile back to your amused onlookers. 

You repeat the above.

..I'm not sure that this guy was the most effective at his job, but he (and the tasty food) certainly kept us enthused enough to return a second night..  :)

Eat Duck Don't Die

We flew into Ho Chi Minh City (which most people still seem to call Saigon - more romantic, no?) just yesterday arvo - how awesomely squiggly is the Mekong just below?!  

 I don't think this is going to be a particularly coherent or informative post, but better than nothing, eh? Especially since I haven't posted anything in almost a year... whoa fourth year + Honours was a nasty brain-sucking beast!!! Yay! Brain has returned! More or less...

ANYWAY, Saigon.
-bikes. everywhere.
-oh and more bikes.
-on the roads.
-on the sides of the roads.
-whizzing up the alleyways behind/beside/around you!

First challenge (actually it's still a challenge, just less scary cos we've done it a few times and haven't died so that means there's more chance that we still won't die? Impeccable logic I think) : crossing the road.

After lots of time hanging out on the side of the road observing and waiting for gaps in the streams of traffic which never seem to arrive, we finally decided that you wait for the cars - but for the bikes? You just start walking. A moderate pace, not too fast, but not too cautious (otherwise you bring the bikes to a complete, perhaps mildly annoyed halt). You stroll bravely across the road, and the bikes (of which there are 15 or 20 to every car that you see) just weave their way around you. Like I say, haven't died yet.

Last night we wandered the city a little bit, watched the light fade over the Saigon canal, and finally hunted down a place where we felt confident enough to order food (it's a while since I've been in a place where I am completely at a loss about what to eat and how to communicate that..). Anyway, we found a place with pictures, and we were convinced by the friendly waiter to order the 'roast chicken'.. We settled ourselves into the little plastic street-side chairs, and looked behind us to see that the roast chicken was actually one of two elongated ducks, hanging in the window...

Interesting. We did think quietly to ourselves about how ironic it would be if we got ill on our very first night away, but we tucked in all the same! Fatty but delicious. Except maybe the brain, we weren't so convinced about that bit.. But we haven't died yet! Yay!

 I have more fun photos from today but I can't get them off my camera at present.. We spent the day wandering the city and entertaining locals/fine-tuning our road-crossing style/eating lots of noodles/discovering all things iced (it's hot!!)/being smoked out by incense in a pagoda/getting just slightly ripped off/finding hilarious exercise equipment in a park (must find a picture of that for you!!) and so forth..

There's still a lot of the colourful Tet (lunar new year) decorations around the place - tinselly trees, yellow flowers, bunting, banners.. There are trees to thin the concrete jungle, gorgeous pot-plant forests in crumbly old apartment balconies, and food! SO much food everywhere. I have no idea what most of it is, but it's great.

Off up the coast tomorrow! Tam biet for now!

J.