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Based on the recommendation of Claire, our Scottish friend that we keep on traveling with, we went straight from the Bangkok airport to the bus station to head to Kanchanaburi, a small town on the River Kwai. We only meant to spend a couple of days there, but the laid back atmosphere and our sweet hotel room that floated on the river and had a porch with chairs and a hammock extended our stay.

Kanchanaburi itself is a sprawling town but the touristic area is limited to a long street of bars, restaurants, shops, hotels and food cart vendors. It was walking down this street on our second morning that a guy on a motorcycle stopped and said, “can I say hello?” Not wanting to deal with whatever he was selling, Carrie and I ignored him and kept walking. It wasn’t until he repeated his question and took off his helmet and sunglasses that we realized it was our couchsurfing friend Tut from Phuket. He had just quit his job at the timeshare company and was making his way to South Korea. What a small world!

Along with Tut, we spent that evening at the night market where we wandered around sampling lots of foods and looking at all the junk for sale. The three of us also treated ourselves to massages: Tut and I got our feet done while Carrie got a full oil massage from a Lady Boy. The foot massage was quite nice and the masseuse used some form of dull pointed stick to access pressure points and kneed out knots that I had never experienced before. Very relaxing!

Waking up early the next morning, we rented a motorcycle and, with Carrie on the back, followed Tut to the Erawan National Park: home of a beautiful seven-level waterfall. Ranging in size and force, each level of the waterfall cascaded into beautiful blue pools perfect for swimming or other activities. One of the levels had a large mossy rock doubled as a water slide; we spent a lot of time there. Another highlight was swimming under a fall to get a massage from the water beating on our shoulders.

We could have spent hours at each level were it not for the little fish that bit the dead skin off of everyone’s feet when we stood still in the water for more than a second. More startling than painful, it still ensured that we didn’t stay at any one fall for too long. Fortunately, the crowds were not so bad and the higher up we went the fewer people we saw.

After saying goodbye to Tut, our next outing was a ride on the Death Railroad, which was named because of all the POW slave laborers who died building it during World War II. The trip started by going over the Bridge Over the River Kwai, which was made most famous by the old movie staring Obi Wan Kenobi himself, Alec Guiness. Carrie and I tried to watch it a couple of times before our ride but never made it past 10 minutes.

Death Railway chugged along for more than two hours, passing by streams, mountains and large caverns that had been dynamited out by the POWs. At some points the side of the train was literally inches from the face of the jagged cliff. We crossed a handful of rickety wood bridges over deep chasms and even went through a few tunnels. When the train reached the destination, we quickly hopped out and got a bus back to Kanchanaburi, finding it  just a bit silly that on one of our few days of not moving around we spent our time on two unnecessary forms of transportation.

Most of the rest of our time in Kanchanaburi was spent relaxing on our porch, wandering the main street, catching up on some much needed writing and photo sorting and eating lots of meals from an delicious and cheap local restaurant where we befriended the entire staff. My favorite part was playing paper airplanes with their two year old daughter while waiting for amazing pad thais and curries.

I learned how to drive a car in New York City rush hour traffic. I learned how to ride a scooter on the dirt roads and busy streets of India. So, it only made sense that I teach myself (with lots of help from Carrie) how to ride a proper motorcycle in Vietnam: one of the most dangerous places to ride in the world. Never having driven a stick shift car (successfully), I had to learn how the concept of gears at the same time as trying to steer clear of the constant flow of traffic.

My first day driving, fortunately, was in the quite town of Mui Ne, which was pretty empty. Unfortunately, shortly into my first day of driving we were hit by monsoon rains. I got the bike home with no problem but got soaked in the process. Next, I took it into the hilly mountains of Da Lat and had a quick crash course on how to use gears on steep inclines. Finally, we took another motorcycle out to explore Na Trang: a busy beach town. This was my favorite, as we returned to the hotel in the middle of rush hour traffic and I got to put my new skills to the test.

Traffic madness in Ho Chi Min

Traffic in Vietnam is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Stop lights are few and far between and motorcycles outnumber everything else. Intersections are the craziest, with all modes of transportation converging together and having a giant game of “who goes first.” Somehow, with a lot of honking, everyone gets their chance to go. Moto drivers tend to let the bigger vehicles go first, but at any given time another bike, car, pedestrian, cow or whatever can jump right out in front. I swear, crossing the street should be an Olympic sport.

Really, the whole thing is quite beautiful: like a noisy dance with a chance of an accident. I never dared to drive in Hanoi or Ho Chi Min, as they take the traffic to a whole new level, but I think I could have done it.

Crossing the street is terrifying in Ho Chi Min

Da Lat is the most popular local tourist destination in Southern Vietnam; every weekend thousands of people swarm into the mountains to enjoy the cool weather and check out the sights. On our first day there, after a long hotel search with our heavy packs on our backs, we checked into a little room with a balcony and an amazing view of farmland, the city and the mountains. Next, it was off to the local market where we walked through row after row of dried food stalls, veggie shops and little eateries

Rain ended our day there, but the next day I rented a motorcycle and, with Carrie on the back, started my crash course in shifting gears in the mountains. Our first stop were cable cars that traveled over a jungle canopy. The ride was long, as were the lines, and it seemed like a lot of time and money just to see the top of trees. So we left without ever getting on one.

Next we stopped at the Dalanta waterfall and were instantly greeted by nearly 50 tour buses in the parking lot. The inside, including the walk down the mountain side, was as crowded as one would imagine. However, Vietnam did put a unique twist on activities at the waterfall. For a price, one could take a photo with a guy in a bear costume, ride a roller coaster controlled by hand breaks down or up the mountain above the falls, rent an American Indian costume (complete with spears) and take photos in it, shoot a bow and arrow or chuck a spear at a target. The falls were unspectacular, but the scene was like nothing I have ever seen.

After more mountain, highway and city driving, we finally came to the last stop of the day: the Crazy House…which was completely crazy. Modeled as an Alice and Wonderland playground/Dr. Seuss fantasy land for adults, the place featured imaginative and far out architecture, crazy rooms and staircases, funky windows and more.

Bedrooms had animal statues with red Christmas lights for eyes above the bed and the whole place had a very out of this world quality to it. For sure a place I would love to return when it is completed in 2015.

A rollercoaster ride down to the Datanla Waterfall

We knew that we were going to be traveling during monsoon season but, up until arriving at Kratie, it had never affected our plans. However, shortly after arriving the deluge began and we had no choice but to hole up in our hotel for the night instead of doing our planned activities. This was a big bummer, as our schedule had us on the first bus out the next morning and the town became a casualty of war.

The next day our early morning bus took us to Phnom Penh, the capital, where we had to drop off our passports at the Vietnam embassy to get a visa. We originally thought the process would take a long time and we would have to spend the night but it took less than five minutes.

At this point we decided to try and make the last bus of the day to Siem Reap that was leaving in 10 minutes on the other side of town. A taxi or tuk tuk would never make it so we hopped on the back of motorcycle taxis and sped off. Weaving in and out of traffic we narrowly avoided cars, trucks and other motos…but we made it on time. And then the rain began.

We finally made it to Siem Reap at nearly 10pm after leaving Kratie at 7am and hopped into a motorcycle tuk tuk to take us to our hotel. The monsoon rains were still falling and halfway into our ride the moto started to skid out in the mud. Bags went flying out of the open sides as we slipped down a small hill: the driver trying hard to get the vehicle under control.

We finally came to an abrupt stop and got off to reclaim our bags and survey the damage. No one was hurt and everything seemed fine until I discovered what actually caused the tuk tuk to stop: my DSLR camera backpack wedged under the wheel! We won’t go into the mini-freak out I had but when we finally arrived at the hotel I got to survey the damage.

Looking at my stuff I realized that the wheel had come to rest right on top of my big super zoom lens. Fortunately, I had a filter attached to the front of it that absorbed most of the damage. The filter glass had shattered and the ring that screws onto the actual lens was badly bent and could not be removed, but the lens itself still worked. To this day the filter ring is still on there and a few shards of glass remain. Guess it’s something I have to take care of when I get home.

One of the main attractions in Siem Reap, other than Angkor Wat, is a boat ride through the Flooded Forest and stilted village of Kompong Pluk. Located on the banks of a river that leads into a lake, the entire forest is flooded annually by the monsoon rains to the point where only the tops of the trees are visible. All houses in the village are built on high stilts that protect them from the rising waters.

Depending on the time of year there are two possible ways to get to the tour boat. During the monsoon season the water is high enough that a tuk tuk can drop tourists off at the side of the river where the boat waits. If it is dry season the river begins much further back. As such, the tuk tuk drops people off in a small town before transferring to the back of a motorcycle to drive down a bumpy dirt road to where the river is high enough for the boat to pick up passengers.

Our experience was neither of these, but we’ll get to that in a minute. Originally we wanted to do something else that day, but the hard sell of our driver/guide convinced us that this three hour tour was the way to go. So we hopped into his tuk tuk and after a brief stop for tire air and gas (bought from a shack on the side of the road and poured from a whiskey bottle) we were on our way.

A short while later while driving down a very rural road we heard the unmistakable sound of a flat tire and had to stop again, this time in front of someone’s house that happened to have an air pump. We sat there for nearly a half hour while they tried everything to repair the tube before eventually replacing it. While waiting, I tried my hardest to befriend a dozen curious but shy local children by making faces, playing peek-a-boo and more. In the end, I won them over with high-fives and by the time we left they were all smiling and waving and high-fiving each other.

Back on track, despite nonstop rain over the past few days, the monsoon season was still young enough that we had drive over the dirt road to reach the far away boat dock. So, at our next stop Carrie and I hopped onto the backs of two separate motorcycles driven by our guide and his younger brother and headed out. The tuk tuk remained behind for yet another tire repair.

Motorbiking through mud and pool-sized puddles

While there were a few puddles in the dirt road, there was enough space for the bikes to maneuver around them with little effort…at least in the beginning. As the drive continued the puddles became more frequent and the dirt road got more muddy. One puddle was actually more of a pool and, with no way to get around it, we drove through water at least two feet deep that engulfed half of the motorcycle and reached my shins.

By the time we passed the pool puddle the road was entirely mud. Still, our drivers pressed on: slipping and sliding the whole time. The bikes were all over the road and, despite his best efforts, my bike slid out and fell four times. Fortunately, falling off a bike in a mud pit is more funny than painful so it really wasn’t bad. As for Carrie, I guess the younger brother was a better driver because he didn’t fall once.

Not wanting to turn around, we kept going until a local man told our drivers that the road got even worse up ahead and we could not possibly make it on the bikes. So, with no other choice, we took off our flip flops and began to walk the final mile barefoot.

At first the walk was no problem; I even had fun sloshing around in the mud. However, shortly after we began walking the road dried up and became hot and hard. Making matters worse were the tire tracks all over the road that had hardened and become razor sharp. Needless to say, it went from a fun walk to a painful one very quickly.

Laughing at the absurdity of our tour was the only way I made it through the experience, but finally, about 30 minutes after we got off the bikes, we arrived at the dock. Here, our driver handed us off to the boat captain (a 12 year old boy) and the pilot (his 10 year old younger brother).

The boat tour itself was outstanding, even if the water level only flooded the trees half way up. I went nuts taking photos of the village on stilts, which was on a scale the likes of which I have never seen before. The entire village is based around the river that floods every year and boats are the only way to get from one side to the other.

Sadly, the villagers have tourism down to a science. At one point, a woman jumped onto our boat and got me to buy 10 notebooks to donate to the school children. When she got off there were four other women waiting to do the same thing who were disappointed to find that she had beaten them to the punch.

After spending a few minutes in the middle of a lake we were dropped off in the actual village for a walk/tour. How surprised were we to find a Buddhist celebration going on and a parade winding it’s way thorough the street. Townsfolk were all dressed up in their Sunday best, music and speaking blasted from a loudspeaker and everyone had a big smile.

All around, people hoisted up money trees and other gifts for a group of monks about to enter a three month period of silence and isolation. We followed the parade to a temple atop a hill where the monks sat accepting the donations while villagers banged ceremonial drums as loud and hard as possible. The scene was amazing and the people were super friendly, though it was very awkward when I had to give out the books.

Originally, I thought we were going to walk into a classroom and just hand the teacher a stack of notebooks. However, due to the celebration the kids were all in the street. So, at the urging of the girl who sold me the notebooks, I stood there and handed them. One by one, kids came up, accepted the books, bowed their heads and said thanks. The whole thing seemed incredibly fake and scripted and I was so glad when I got rid of the last book because it was also very awkward. Like, are these kids actually going to use them? Do they want them? Is the girl going to take the books back to sell to the next boat of tourists? I don’t know nor do I want to.

Waving goodbye to the townsfolk, we got back onto the boat for our walk back to the motorcycles. However, upon returning to land we were happy to find that our guide had found someone to drive us back to where our bikes were waiting. So, Carrie and I hopped on back of the best driver in town’s (according to our guide) bike and were amazed as he easily navigated through the mud and dry patches. The only problem with the ride was that the best path to drive on was right next to a wall of spiky bushes that often whacked us in the face, arms and legs. Still, we were too busy laughing at the absurdity of it all to care.

Once back on our original bikes, the rest of the return trip was much the same as the trip out there. Lots of slipping and sliding, another trip through the pool puddle and a few near falls. By the time we got back to the village and boarded the finally-repaired tuk tuk the sun was already setting, filling the sky with an awesome display of oranges, reds and blues. We finally pulled into our hotel after dark, having spent double the forecasted time on the tour and full of memories to last a lifetime.

A boat ride through the village on stilts next to the Flooded Forest of Kompong Phhluk

Buddha celebration at the village on stilts next to the Flooded Forest of Kompong Phhluk

With our new friends Claire and Karen in tow, Carrie and I left the Perhentian Islands in Malaysia at 7:30am to head to Koh Phangan, Thailand, for the Full Moon Party. Referred to as the best and biggest party in the world, we had based our entire schedule for Malaysia and Singapore around getting to the party. It was something that we just had to experience. Little did we know that getting there would be an experience all in itself.

Our day began with a quick boat “taxi” to the speedboat ferry that would take us from the Perhentians back to the mainland. From there we hired a proper taxi to take the four of us to the Thailand border at Sungai Kolok. Getting our passport stamped to leave Malaysia was quick and painless. Getting into Thailand was not.

First we had to undergo a health check, which involved filing out a form swearing that we had no swine flu symptoms and getting our temperature checked. After mine came out at 36.7 degrees Celsius the nurse showed it to me and said, “very close.” I freaked out a bit until I saw the sign that said 38 was the minimum for concern. What was she scaring me for?!

Next we had to wait on a long and hot line to get our passports stamped with our Thai visas. While waiting, a money changer approached me and tried to give me a terrible exchange rate. As everything does, it turned into a little scene that ended with me refusing to give him my money.

The encounter did have a positive effect though, as Reuben, a Spaniard traveling alone and standing behind me in the line, asked me why I didn’t want to change money with that guy. We continued to talk about traveling and soon established that he too was going to the party without pre-booked accommodation. And just like that we had a fifth member of our crew.

After successfully getting through the border check and entering Thailand we found that the train station we needed for the next leg of our journey was about 4 kilometers away. There were no car taxis anywhere so we had no choice but to all hop on the back of motorcycle taxis with our big bags. For ten minutes we caravanned through the streets of Sungai Kolok: waving, hooting and hollering at each other. Depending on whom you ask it was either a fun or terrifying experience; Claire said she had never been more scared in her life!

Safely arriving at the train station and buying our tickets to Surat Thani, we joined a train full of other Western travelers heading to the same place. The ride was long, dusty, hot and highly entertaining. Reuben was sitting next to a Thai who was drinking beer for 10 hours straight. Karen and Claire drank whisky with a Thai police officer in the food car. Carrie and I met an army officer who loves scuba diving as much as we do. Good times were had by all.

We finally arrived at Surat Thani at around 9pm and quickly started looking for cabs to take us to the boat dock. However, we had somehow picked up a straggler (we’ll call him San Diego because that’s where he’s from and I don’t know his name) who invited himself into our group to try and save money on the cab. He alternated between making sure to latch onto us and trying to find his own cheap deal. In the end he tagged along with us, which made us need two cabs instead of one and we all had to pay an extra 10 bhat for helping him. No problem, I would hope the same would happen to me in that situation.

The boat, which doubled as a cargo ship filled with food, beer and other dry goods, wound up costing double the normal price due to the party. The inside was lined with mattresses both on the floor and elevated in the aisles. Everyone had an assigned spot, though we did have to kick a few sleeping locals out of our beds after playing cards until nearly 1am. It took a while, but we all finally fell asleep to the rocking of the sea.

Arriving at 5:30am, we were awoken by the sounds of the ship’s horns and countless taxi drivers on the jetty shouting “good morning! You want taxi? Where you go?” through the boat’s windows. Still groggy, we had no choice but to enter the taxi gauntlet waiting for us and try and figure out where we were headed. Not surprisingly, it was at this point that San Diego reappeared after being MIA all night and tagged along with us. Our destination: a hotel with a room big enough for six.

The epilogue to the story is that Claire’s place didn’t work out but we did find a wonderful AC room that we could cram the original five into. San Diego had been both trying to find his own place and make sure to stick with us all morning just in case, so we were a-ok with him doing his own thing. We even helped find him a cheap single room, but were completely done with him. Finally, at around 8:30am we all plopped into our beds and passed out.

Final tally
1 train ride
1 motorcycle taxi
3 car taxis
3 boats
26 hours of travel

Views from the back of our motorcycle taxi to the train station

The scene on the dock when our boat arrived at the full moon party at 530am

Though it’s only a mile or so from the main road, Sadhana Forest is a bit of a trek to get to and from: especially when the sun is beating down. As such, Carrie and I joined most other volunteers and rented a scooter for under $2 a day during our time there. Whether it’s to get ice cream or some other non-vegan snack, explore nearby towns, relax on the beach, visit Auroville or just cruise for a bit, the scooter afforded us the freedom to do what we wanted without being a slave to overpriced taxis or the schedules of others.

Our first ride was a bit dicey, as neither of us had ever driven a scooter before, let alone on the opposite side of the road before. It took about ten minutes before we had our first little crash while trying to cross traffic and make a sharp turn on dirt. It was not in front of traffic, but of course a handful of locals were there to watch the show.

Early jitters aside, I fell completely in love with our scooter and can see why motorcycles have such a cult following. That said, I also see how dangerous they are and have no need to drive one back home. In Sadhana the joy was half having the freedom to get out when I wanted and half the thrill of the wind in my face. That, and caravaning was a favorite past time of volunteers. One night we had a string of eight scooters driving in a line home all honking and passing each other. Too much fun!

The comical highlight of our scooter experience came after a torrential rain storm that lasted all day. Stir crazy and craving ice cream, a bunch of us decided to brave the muddy mile to the main road. We paired up two to a scooter and set off, slipping, sliding and laughing our way through puddles and inches of mud. At times one person per scooter had to walk while other times it was two to a vehicle.

In the end, six scooters made it out of the mud road without incident and the caravan headed to a bakery for some croissants and cheese. We never did make it to get ice cream as the sky was darkening and we feared mud driving at night. Our accident-free track record continued until the final curve before arriving back at Sadhana, which was a giant mud pool that, despite not having Carrie on the bike, caused me to skid out and fall ass-first into the puddle. After a classic laugh first, ask questions later, experience, Carrie came over and helped get the bike off of me and I proceeded to walk it the final hundred feet home.