Budget Accommodation - the sequel

While I wait for the wifi to be fixed in my hotel in the inappropriately named I Win Hostel in Siem Reap, I have decided to write a follow-up to my Budget Accommodation post written way back in January. Feels like months ago! I knew I missed some things back then and the point wasn’t to hit on everything - just to kill some time writing until I had enough material. Anyway. Here we go again.

I’ll start with the wifi. Budget hotels surprisingly often have free wifi, at least in SE Asia, which is often even accessible in the room. It may be a shabby connection, but at least there is one. And you may find wires jerry-rigged here and there, but that really makes no difference to the backpacker who needs his Facebook at all times. Usually budget hotels also come with a receptionist who has no idea what to do when the internet goes down and you have to show them how to poke the reset button.

A budget room probably comes with a decent enough bed, but usually it’s best not to actually look at the mattress. For what? So you can lie uncomfortably with the knowledge of what’s beneath? And don’t smell the sheets. Or even inspect them closely because you’re bound to find something you’re not going to like. From hairs to ants to cigarette burns to random stains, none of it will kill you, but it might agonize you.

If you look under the bed you might have nightmares. Aside from the accumulated dust, you might find a cockroach or three, a condom wrapper, an empty plastic water bottle or a lost sock. I always look under the bed just in case I find a lost hundred dollar bill, but to this day, I've always been disappointed. I figure the day I stop looking is the day the hundred dollars will be there. That or the giant spider that might eat my face during the night.

A budget room usually comes with a fan, occasionally on the ceiling and occasionally on the wall. If the one attached to the wall or ceiling is broken, like mine now, they’ll be ever so gracious to supply you with a standing fan. In my case, it worked to my advantage because it’s noisier and blocks out the music from the club next door.

You sometimes get a tv. Usually a bulky old one with limited channels if any, but you might get a flat screen. Maybe you’d consider that lucky if watching tv is your thing. For some reason, with budget accommodation, you almost always get a tv remote that is missing the battery cover. I seriously believe there’s some idiot who collects those things. I rarely watch tv so it’s not bothersome aside from the lack of visual appeal. It just makes me feel dirty.

In the bathroom, with the shabby bath mat or folded towel or old t-shirt residing just outside the door still wet from the previous guest, you’ll most likely find a couple toothbrushes and mini tubes of toothpaste all hygienically sealed in plastic. And perhaps a mini bar of soap that’ll lather away in two showers, but you might have to ask for that at reception. And the toilet paper is also a maybe. Definitely single ply and perforated if you’re lucky. Towel often threadbare and stiff upon first use, but occasionally you get a nice new one. I’ve been so fortunate to have had that experience. I almost wanted to steal it.

You usually get a cold shower in budget rooms, but sometimes you get a hot water heater that is still functioning. Usually the shower head is situated far below a comfortable height and sometimes the shower head wall fixture is broken. The sink almost always drains water onto the floor or at least leaks and the mirror above the sink is always too low. And the bathroom lighting is usually too dim. The bathroom door frame almost never allows for enough head clearance and eventually it becomes habit to duck through every door. The toilet nearly always has a seat, but it’s often loose and it doesn’t always flush adequately.

What else, what else…ah, the bum hose. An essential to any budget bathroom. Sometimes the water merely dribbles out and sometimes the force actually bruises your anus. It can be hit or miss. When you’re like Goldilocks and get one that’s just right, a little squirt to the rectum not only makes you feel good, but you’re doing your part to help the environment as well. Save both water and toilet tissue! Get over your homophobia and try it today. You’ll soon realize what you were missing all these years.

The bathroom door in your budget abode likely won’t be able to close. Just deal with it. It’s a minor inconvenience when you have a visitor and you’re afraid of blowing out your bowels in the morning, but you have to realize the door is probably plastic and not impenetrable to noise anyway. Let it go and hope for the best. If your guest turns their nose in disgust, he or she was probably not for you anyway. You can always try turning on the tv, if you have one, or running the water, but that’s obvious and your visitor will likely unconsciously pay more attention when you resort to such trickery.

The garbage can in your room will most likely be plastic and on its last legs. It might even smell or have mold growing on it and may or may not have a plastic liner, which will most definitely be a plastic bag. There will also most likely be an inadequate number of electrical outlets in your room which may or may not need tape to hold your plug without it falling out. However, wires will be abundant. They will probably appear to be growing out of the walls and leave you wondering what their purpose once was. An eyesore to the electrician or carpenter, but adds character to the common man.

One day this will all become a distant memory. When I become rich and famous I’ll probably upgrade to 2 or 3-star accommodation just for kicks to see how the other side lives. 

Siem Reap 2012

We left Phnom Penh this afternoon at 2:30pm and arrived in Siem Reap some five hours later. This is my third visit to Siem Reap, the first time in January 2008 when I first traveled through this region and the second time last summer when I was passing through on my way back to Vietnam. I like it here, it has a special vibe and I'm happy to be back. It is ultra-touristy in the Old Market area, but it's easy, really easy to get around on foot, eat $1 fried rice, kick back a 50 cent Anchor draft and get a $1 15-minute foot massage.

After the not too long, but long enough minivan journey over mostly roads under construction and in seats with not enough leg room, we finally arrived after some decent sleep and conversation. I got on the back of a moto and checked into the I Win Hostel. It's not actually a hostel, but rather a hotel as far as I can tell, and it's conveniently located across the river from the Old Market. And for $8 for a large room, wifi, friendly staff and a powerful enough fan to block out the noise from the club nearby, it's a steal.

I had a hard time coming back to the hotel at 11pm. I almost feel lonely yet I am somehow savoring this quiet moment alone. Will I actually get to sleep before midnight? No, but almost. After dinner and a massage, I walked straight back to the hotel, but only after passing Hip Hop, a local club, and pondering the possibility of just poking my head in for a minute. $1 draft beer and no cover is hard to pass up, especially when you have nothing to do the next morning. But health is wealth and a night free of booze and some sleep sounded more desirable. I do always wonder if I'm missing something though.

Just have to ignore those thoughts. Plenty of time for fun tomorrow or the next day. No red bulls tonight. The last two nights have been late ones. Fun nights, memorable to be sure. I don't need three memorable nights in a row, then they might all blend together as one. Actually I'd take a good night any night, but the bed is calling my name and I prefer a couple nights a week without alcohol. That's pretty difficult in this neck of the woods though, when beer is often cheaper than water. A icy cold draft beer or a bottle of water? Of course the water wins sometimes.

Ok, that's enough! Not setting the alarm tonight, but I will floss the teeth. They deserve my attention for a change. Looking forward to a new day, the possibilities are endless. Hoping to revisit the temples, visit a local orphanage, peruse the wares at the market, get countless massages, visit all the local clubs, eat a lot of fried rice, learn some more Khmer and stop to smell the roses. Life is pretty sweet - maybe not all the time, but we need those sour moments to make the sweet moments even sweeter.

still in...Phnom Penh

Ten nights in Phnom Penh...I had originally planned on just a few. Plans change, but I am looking forward to getting out of here tomorrow. I ended up getting a root canal last weekend and waited til most of the pain was gone. Still persists a little, but I remain hopeful that 20 bucks was enough for a successful procedure. TWENTY bucks! I also waited around for my friend to arrive from Siem Reap. Not going there and having him come here. So here I am with not a lot to say.

I can say I seem unable to eat much anymore. My metabolism has waned. I think if I ate a kilo of jackfruit or rambutans or whatever tropical fruits I used to indulge in, it would cause massive and perhaps explosive diarrhea. Or at least some serious stomach blotation. Yes, I know that's not a word, but you get it. The food here, this visit at least, has been fantastic. I definitely seem to be sticking to the delicious choices available at Okay Guesthouse, Happy Guesthouse and Blue Pumpkin. All around the Riverside, not really Cambodia, but oh so close to home and oh so easy to park it here for a while.

In fact, I know I don't need it, but it's almost time for a walk - my only form of exercise these days - to pick up some mangoes at Kandal Market and a brownie at Blue Pumpkin. I have a weak spot for a good brownie. I'm only getting the mangoes to balance out the good and the bad, to make me feel like I'm still relatively healthy. Delicious hearty ripe mangoes for about a quarter. Yeah I have to peel 'em and floss my own teeth afterwards, but it's worth it. And the brownie, I could buy a half dozen mangoes for the price of that little brown brick, but well, it ain't that much to partake in a little indulgence. 

You can also find cheap thrills in any of the nearby lady bars if that's your thing. Lady bars, girlie bars, hostess bars, whatever they're officially called, they are aplenty in Phnom Penh, especially near the Riverside. Nothing like Thailand, but certainly not as behind-the-scenes like in Vietnam. With names like 69 Bar, Candy Bar, Horny Bar, Dream Bar, Pussy Cat Bar, et al, there is no hiding what these bars have on offer besides the cheap booze. Well, it's not cheap by Cambodian standards, but cheap by Western standards. It's quite easy to find Anchor or Angkor draft around town for 50-75 cents a glass, but the price bulges to 1.25-1.50 in these t'lai (expensive) bars. Whoa!

I've been to a few, let's be honest. It's one reason why so many men come to Cambodia and Thailand, as much as most won't admit. But to be fair, the girls are dressed almost identically to the women in a typical sports bar in Saigon. It's up to them actually. I guess it depends on how much attention they want on any given night. It's really just a bar with nice scenery if you're just dropping in for a beer. The deal is, if you want a girl, you pay the bar fine (approximately $5-10) to take the girl out of the bar and pay her whatever you have negotiated for a short time or overnight.

Yes, I have done my homework. Making inquiries does not make me a seedy individual, but you're welcome to judge me in any way you please. I don't give a fuck. Just saying. But this is a place where degenerate folk come to die. Maybe they don't plan it that way, but if you must be careful not to let that happen. Having said that, after attending a party last night, there appear to be quite a lot of creative individuals here in Phnom Penh. A lot of expats seemingly here for various creative endeavors. Or maybe they just looked cooler than your average expat and I had higher expectations for some of them.

Anyway, I'm tired. We got home at 7am this morning. I think that's my latest night ever excluding all-nighters pulled in college. I had a red bull equivalent somewhere along the way and all of a sudden it was 5am and the club was closing. And then we found ourselves chatting with some of the cutest ladyboys I've ever encountered. Something was still amiss, but they had charm. Not enough to entice home in case you're getting the wrong idea. Actually there was no enticing necessary as they made it quite clear they would pleasure me orally and take it in the ass. So sweet, but I guess I'm just not ready for that experience.

It's all pretty wild. I could go on and on, but I won't. The people are extremely friendly here, minus the constant harassment from tuk-tuk drivers. However, I can excuse that as desperation and try my best to ignore it. There are people with no legs begging in the street, children sniffing glue by the riverside, women trying to find customers lingering by the river, tiny children selling books and countless women finding these bars as the best opportunity to make a living. At the same time, there are locals driving Lexus SUVs and Hummers amongst other expensive vehicles. The disparity of wealth is even more apparent. 

Well, it's almost that time again. Nearly time to go out. Throw back some fried rice or some vegetable curry and take a tuk-tuk somewhere new. I feel like I could go to sleep, but it's out last night here. And I have nothing to do tomorrow other than catch a bus. And if you think about, the nights are way more pleasant than the hot sunny days. No applying suntan lotion, no sweating, no traffic, no tourist traps. Going out with eyes wide open and taking it all in until I'm too tired to care anymore and sleep sounds better than anything. See you next time.

Signs you're out there

I went to the mall yesterday and sucked down a strawberry Italian soda. It was good. I was chatting with a new friend and also being entertained by people piling up their bowls at the all-you-can-eat salad bar. Eventually we got around to discussing our families. I asked her if she had any brothers and sisters. She had had two, but one of them died four years ago. Her younger sister. She was 18 years old and had brain cancer. I felt an instant connection. Tears came to my eyes, but weren't shed.

Then it was my turn. Not to take anything away from what she just told me, but to share my own experience and relate. I have an older brother who is married and has two kids. I also had a younger sister, but she too died nearly 10 years ago also as a result of cancer. It began as melanoma, a form of skin cancer, but eventually it spread to her brain. Weird to talk about this with someone who knows. Strange, but good.

We talked a little about reincarnation and seeing signs that give you hope or prove that someone you lost is still there. I talked a little about hummingbirds and how they are a powerful symbol in the melanoma community. I was talking to my Mom about this very thing one winter day when you wouldn't expect to see hummingbirds and I went out and saw a van with a HUMNGBRD license plate. Makes you wonder. And those dreams that seem so real...

Anyway, as we were discussing 'signs' a song playing overhead caught my ear. It was one of my sister's favorite songs playing at a pizza restaurant in Cambodia. It was Alison Krauss and When You Say Nothing At All. Yes, it was a popular song and yes, they play a lot of Western music throughout Asia, but still it's nice when stuff like this happens. Makes me feel like somebody's stopping by to say hi. Anyway, hello! Please tap me on the shoulder next time if I'm not paying attention.

Coincidentally, there's a line in the song that says there's a truth in your eyes sayin' you'll never leave me. Of course, the song was written about something else, but all music is open to our own interpretation. It's just better like that.

Shuttlecock in Phnom Penh

I guess they play this everywhere in Asia, I just haven't noticed. I guess I didn't spend enough time in parks while in Saigon. I vaguely remember some dudes kicking the shuttlecock around, but not like this. The sport is called jianzi apparently, I looked it up. I'm not sure what it is in Khmer. Further research suggests the English name is shuttlecock or foot badminton, which kind of makes sense.

I was told these guys always practice along the riverside here in Phnom Penh. It's highly entertaining. Not only that, but fascinating how they have the coordination to hit the thing so accurately, not only with their foot, but their elbow and their head as well. I'm impressed! I have to go back and watch some more soon.

For more information, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jianzi

Tạm biệt Việt Nam!

This is my official goodbye. By no means, is it my FINAL goodbye. We all know that most expats who leave Vietnam, seemingly always come back. Sucked to edge of insanity, of absolute frustration, screaming good riddance all the way to the border. Yet we return. I think that's what the hidden charm really is. Nobody can say exactly what it is, they just know there's something. And maybe that explains why we keep coming back for more punishment. We are trying to find where the charm is hiding.

I am a little sad to be honest. It's hard to think that I might not return. However, I think it's probably safe to say I should find another place to live, at least for a while. Find what makes me tick, if that's possible. Find my soul that I lost in a hẻm somewhere in Saigon. I think it fell out of my pocket. Find a language that doesn't annoy me. It's actually not the language, it's the person speaking it. It can sound nice, it really can. Less squawk and more talk, pleeeeease!

I have a love/hate relationship with Vietnam. Seems like it's been that way from the beginning. It's a very difficult relationship to end. There are a lot of perks to living here and a lot of annoyances. And as any local would say, if you don't like it, go back to where you came from! Very true. When you gripe more than you grin, you have to question whether it's time to move on. The love hate scale might be out of balance.

Let me begin with the food. I love it. At least the abundance of vegetarian options. Seems like there's a cơm chay restaurant around every corner. I love the lifestyle. I love the women. I love riding a motorbike. I love cheap beer. I love the fact that I can run nearly all of my errands within walking distance of my house. Yet, I still go by motorbike. Forgot to buy water? Neighbors sells it. Shampoo? Yep. Phone card? Got that too. Dinner? Just around the corner, if you want. Need a little air in your tire? Ten meters in that direction. Ran out of gas? There's a woman with some across the street. Massage? Parlor over there or if you don't want a happy ending, on the ground, right here.

I hate the noise, the pollution, the traffic, the constant staring and the constant you're-a-foreigner-so-I'm-going-to-try-to-rip-you-off. Yes, sometimes it's just peanuts, but it's still principle. And if I call you on it, you just get angry and ugly. And I just don't understand the culture. Or the women. Or about losing face. I mean, come on, if you don't know where a place is, just admit it! Don't give me wrong directions. I also hate the general lack of common sense. Oh, and loud voices. There are a lot of them here.

I could say I hate the way people drive, but I don't. Yes, it's terrible, but when you start expecting the unexpected it becomes humorous when it actually happens. Which is nearly all the time. Wait, I think I should be laughing more. I could go on and on about nosiness, about people always wanting to know my business. About nose-picking, people always digging for gold in public. About hygiene, what's that? About restaurant service, nearly non-existent. Em oiiii! About the general harassment every foreigner receives from people trying to sell anything. But I don't hate any of that. I've come to accept most of it and understand it's part of life. Here, anyway.

For me, the number one irritation is the overall level of consideration. There just isn't any. When I think Vietnam, I think INCONSIDERATION. I don't think the word exists in Vietnamese. Talking too loud, cutting in line, not waiting for people to get off the elevator before you get on, not looking when you pull out into traffic, in general not giving a fuck about anyone other than yourself - that gets to me. I feel like I'm a fairly considerate person and when I don't get any in return, it bothers me.

It's hard to completely digest. It still angers me sometimes when it happens, but I think I get it. I think it pisses off some Vietnamese people as well, but they're better at hiding their emotions. They can just let (sh)it go. I need to work on that. If every time I waited for an elevator people barged in front of me to get on, I think I'd eventually stop waiting myself and calmly assume position near the elevator doors, not look anybody in the eye and inconsiderately maneuver my way forward without looking or feeling guilty about it. Actually I know myself better, I'd probably take the stairs. I hate being an intentional asshole unless I feel like someone is deserving. Then, it comes with ease.

I know I didn't touch on so many things. I never really slept well in Vietnam. I hated that. I think my best nights of sleep in last four years were in other countries. I will miss the energy in Vietnam. A raw energy, enlivening or insanity driving depending on my mood. So many people making ends meet through whatever means necessary. If that means asking you if you want a shoe shine over and over again so be it. Not a dull day unless you didn't venture outside. Sometimes it was nice to stay in.

Anyway, I can go on and on and on. But I won't. I need to step off the motorbike for a minute, slow down, try to speak another language and stop grimacing. My eye wrinkles are getting out of hand. Maybe from too much sun exposure or too much dust in the air. And from constantly being on edge. Wary of everybody around me and what they're saying, never believing someone's first word. After a while, it gets exhausting. And I need a break, so I'm taking it. For my health, it's all I've got!

Pattaya (one week later)

After a few drinks in Pattaya.

Everyone said ya gotta go to Pattaya. Well, not everyone. It seemed like it though. A couple friends said Why are you going to Pattaya? And well, another said YOU'RE going to Pattaya? Either way you shake it, it had intrigue and so I went. What is Pattaya, exactly? The sin city located a couple hours south of Bangkok. Basically it is street upon street of go-go bars, massage parlors, restaurants, food stalls, souvenir shops, convenience stores and hotels. Dirty, dirty hotels. Best not to carry a UV light into one of those rooms.

I know there is more to Pattaya than the sleaze it is well known for, but I was there for less than 48 hours and didn't have time to check it out. In and out you might say. But not like that. Right, you say. Whatever. Walking down any of the roads, whether it be Beach Road, Second Street or Third Street or any of the roads leading away from the beach, I felt like the new guy and everyone was saying Who is this young lad stealing our thunder? 

To be honest, I barely noticed the men. Too many women calling my name. Or saying something to entice me over. They were mostly charming and pretty convincing. Giggling to each other and hoping you'll stop in and stay for a while. It sounded so real. I thought they meant every word they said. And occasionally I'd look back and they'd be chatting away again or calling out to the next man. What!? I thought you liked meeeeeeeeeeeee!

One of the many massage parlors in Pattaya. I didn't get to feel the lucky finger.

Most of the visitors to Pattaya are older men. I saw men who could barely walk with beautiful young Thai women. Guys probably wearing diapers. Fat dudes. Ugly fuckers. People who had no chance with anyone unless they were locked up in prison. There were some normal dudes too, but I'm trying to tell a story and they just don't fit in. Occasionally I'd see a backpacker and think, did he get on the wrong bus?

The Walking Street was packed with people in the evenings. Guys wandering from bar to bar, women offering cheap thrills, tourist police, ladyboys, Go Go dancers, hot Russian models, street performers and plenty of seemingly normal tourists taking it all in. A lot of ladyboys and surprisingly, a lot of attractive white women. Mostly Russian, I think and some nearly as tall as me. I was impressed. Looked like models, but were probably working girls. I heard they make a lot of money there.

I walked up and down the walking street. I was a little hesitant to just walk into one of the bars as I really hadn't experienced a real Go Go bar. Honest. I ended up going into Alcatraz where you can bail any girl out of 'prison' by paying a bar fine and taking her home for whatever price you negotiated. You didn't have to do this, that was just the concept. I ended up sitting next to another single patron to watch the show.

The 'show' was essentially girls in bikinis modeling their 'goods' to the customers. Some were topless, some wore g-strings and most wore heels. They rotated so all girls had a chance to wiggle and turn on the poles they had up on the stage. And then there was the random naked girl in the back bathing herself in a big barrel. It was all pretty wild. Especially since a draft beer was only $2 and well, the show was seemingly worth more than that. Hmmm a $10 movie or...

Of course, the girls sit next to you and try to encourage you to buy them a drink, valued somewhere near $5. All in the hope of eventually getting you to take them home. I wasn't budging cause I was 'just looking' and wanted to be a fly on the wall. Pretty much impossible in a place like this. But it was alright not to buy a drink, they were just persistent in trying. The guy next to me, was a little more generous. I think he had plenty of money to throw around.

Nice guy, really nice actually. Apparently blew five grand in as many days. Wow. FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS IN FIVE DAYS in Pattaya. I couldn't fathom this. I knew he must have had some pretty swanky digs. And then he told me he took four girls home the previous evening. Ahhhh I thought, that might add up. He went around from bar to bar 'collecting' girls. And this evening he was on the prowl again. This one is pretty hot he whispered to me. She kinda looks like a ladyboy I said. Oh yeah he said. I didn't really look at her face.

And so it went. All in all a crazy place. A place to really fuck up your mind. And thus, I was happy to get back on the bus less than 48 hours after I arrived. I absolutely don't regret going there, I'm not saying that, but there's only so much of that living I can digest at one time. So much to look at whether the people on the street or the hookers lining up on the side. Everywhere you looked there was visual stimulation. I felt sorry for the men on holidays with their families. At least I could look and not piss somebody off.