Bustling Bangkok (2 of 3)

June 18th - June 26th, 2012

The entirety of our time in Bangkok consisted of visiting as many of the 475 temples spread throughout the city as we could using various means of transport including tuk tuk, subway, sky train, motorcycle taxi, our own two feet and taxis.  We got to know the city a little, the people and the games they play. 

Wat Benchamabophit Dusitvanaram also known as the Marble Temple but literally meaning Temple of the fifth King is among the most stunning in Bangkok with its ornate style of high gables and stepped-out roofs. The interior is decorated with crossbeams of lacquer and gold, and in shallow niches in the walls paintings of important stupas from all over the country. The cloister around the assembly hall houses 52 images of Buddha including the only emaciated statue we have come across representing his period of fasting before he was enlightened; his rib cage and hollow eyes strikingly different than the healthy, humble, smiling representations more usually seen. 

Of course, there are a couple things that come to mind when one thinks of Bangkok, one of those things being Mui Thai boxing matches.  This was a must see for Julian and I was happy either seeing it or missing it.  Approaching the box office at the entrance of the large stadium we inquired about two tickets and immediately the woman began filling two out with VIP scrawled across the top.  

"How much?"  We inquire before she gets too far.  

We were blown away by when she told us they were 2000Bht (CND$66.00 approx') each.  Shaking out heads we request third class tickets to which she responded it was crowded standing room only space with a lot of drinking and betting going on, creating a potentially 'dangerous atmosphere'.  We would 'be safer in 1st class with all the other tourists'.  

Slightly bothered by the situation we shook our heads and walked away so we could discuss the situation.  The idea of sitting in first class with all the other white skinned tourists while the locals enjoy a rowdy environment in the gods was not exactly appealing.  We like to do as the locals do when we're travelling and it sounded like it was going to be much more fun up in 2nd or 3rd class. 

Whist debating the situation a tuk tuk driver won us over by offering to take us to four of the temples across the city for a mere 40bht.  Pleased with this offer we hopped in; you really can't help but smile in these things.  Even just saying the word…  go on.  Say it out loud.  Tuk Tuk.  Just makes you smile doesn't it?  

He took us to a Buddhist site not listen on our tourist map of the city; a giant, standing Buddha towering 45 meters overhead.  A ceremony was soon to be underway here; hundreds of strings lead from his shoulders each connected to single chair which sat in the courtyard so that each person might be physically connected to the entity. 

Another temple followed with another laying Buddha covered in gold leaf, this one encased in a protective plastic tomb. 

He offered us a 'free stop' on the tour and introduced us to a tourist office.  Having intended to visit one for advice at some point anyway we spend a good 30 minutes with the ladies inside picking their brains for advice on continuing north in Thailand.  Having not spent any money there our driver suggested another tourist office.  We politely declined, telling him we had the information we needed but he stopped there anyway.  Along the way our driver was having problems with his tuk tuk; his brake had seized on.  Throwing a bucket of cold water on the sizzling parts calmed the suffering vehicle which allowed us to creep forward though certainly not doing the machine any favours. 

Always happy to get travel advice from multiple people and went to have a chat with the second agency anyway.  Upon hearing about our intended overland journey, the clerk realized we were not his  'average punters' and that he 'might learn a thing or two from us instead' as we posed questions to him that he did not have answers to hand such as "Can we cross overland through Myanmar to Bangledesh?".  We came out of it having not purchased anything but happy to have a few bits of new information to help us along. 

Growing increasingly more frustrated with his tuk tuk and passengers who were not spending any money (and thus earning him commission) along the way he forced the vehicle onwards until eventually it gave up the battle of engine vs brakes altogether.  Julians trained ear had picked out the problem earlier and he was soon lying on the ground and filthy to get a closer look under the vehicle.  Convinced he could help, if only temporarily. He told the driver what the problem was and insisted he could fix it if he could remove the wheel to get to the brakes. Despite having tools (but no jack) our driver was not keen on accepting help however and continued to decline Julians offers.  One more free stop was on offer; another custom tailor. Whilst our tuk tuk driver remained outside with half a dozen others we were persuaded inside and met by a sales associate who tried immediately to sit us at a small table to discuss suit options.  Appraising the five or six other couples already sat and browsing fabric swatches and wising up to these cheap tuk tuk deals, we blatantly told him we had no intention of purchasing anything and after a few more half hearted attempts he led us out of the door much to the obvious disappointment of our driver.

The tuk tuk was on its last legs.  A frustrated driver pulled over and told us the tour was over despite still having one temple stop to go.  Julian insisted he could help fix the vehicle but was dismissed repeatedly. All we could do is tip him an extra 20 baht (CND 0.60) and walk away. 

The Golden Mount was our original planned destination when we first hailed the tuk tuk but after the many unscheduled stops and the eventual break-down the compound of Wat Saket was closed by the time we got there. These 40Bht deals are great if you have the time and don't mind a roundabout route to your destination but if time pressures are imposing perhaps a bike taxi might be a better way to get around the city. We wandered in through the gates of Wat Saket an hour and a half after Joe Public had been dissuaded and pretty much had the place to ourselves. Hundreds of statues of golden Buddhas sat around the entire circumference of the courtyard. The grounds were quiet and empty and as we passed a doorway we spied for a class of monks dressed in their saffron robs who sat in the elaborately decorated hall (complete with yet another Golden Buddha) deeply involved in the evening teachings from a senior brother. 

We left the grounds and bargained a price for a direct tuk tuk ride to Khao San Road night market known to be "the centre of the backpacking universe".  Western people crowded the streets eyeing goods such as knock off merchandise, local street food and other delicacies like chocolate covered cockroaches, scorpions and maggots.  We walked the entire 1km stretch of road passing countless accommodation options, internet cafes, swanky bars and clubs, restaurants, massage and tattoo parlours enjoying the care free vibe with the tourists and pedlars alike before returning to the quiet residential area for an evening meal with our host who rustled up some Thai green curry soup with chicken, coconut milk, lemon grass, coriander and bay leaves.

Bustling Bangkok (1 of 3)

June 18th - June 26th, 2012

After a satisfying breakfast at an 'economy rice' buffet we took the ferry leaving Penang to the train station in Butterworth anticipating the 19.5 overnight journey into Thailand.  Claiming our seats, two benches facing each other, I hoped that we would not have to share this space while we endured the long journey.   We watched Penang roll away as the train moved painfully slowly through smaller villages, picking up people along the way.  Not only did we end up having to share our cubical with a family of four Muslim ladies but every available space was crammed with people.  Agitated, having never been squeezed amongst so many people in such a small space whilst in transit I pressed myself against the window to watch the passing landscape.  Thinking about things, I became thankful that A) the train was air-conditioned, B) nobody was smoking and C) that I had a seat rather than having to stand in the aisle amongst so many others fighting for space.  Three luxuries I expect to loose at some point along this journey; particularly in India where I hear the transport system is far from comfortable. 

People were in high spirits though, smiling and laughing with each other.  I began to warm to the ladies sitting opposite us as they joked with each other and despite the language barrier I could understand their playful antics and I couldn't help but smile warmly at them.  These masses of people were with us for about three hours until they finally piled out like clowns crammed into a VW Beetle at the last stop short of the Thai border. 

Having not had time to gather food before the journey we had no other option other than to opt for the over priced meat, rice and fruit they served on the train.  A table was pulled from the floor beneath our feet and our seating transformed into a dining room as we enjoyed our 'in-train' service.  Shortly thereafter our dining area was again transformed into full size bunk beds; Julian on the top and myself on the bottom; a surprisingly comfortable space with a curtain providing privacy, I watched the land passed me by as my eyelids grew heavy.

Waking the next morning, I sat up in bed and pulled back the curtains on the window.  Small, humble villages surround by vibrant green rice paddies covered these lands with the sporadic limestone cliff adding interest to the otherwise flat landscape.  My eyes scanned these walls, a strong inner desire to explore the rock on an intimate level.  A Thai style temple with its typical pointed golden roofs excited me further and I couldn't wait to rouse Julian from his slumbers.  Tentatively, I peered into his sleeping quarters and woke him with soft whispers.  Grumbling, he gazed at me through one eye.  Smiling sweetly I told him of the lovely temples he was missing.  Suitably encouraged he joined me on the bottom bunk, playfully grumbling that there was no temples to be seen. We enjoyed some fruit for breakfast watching these beautiful lands so foreign to our eyes. 

Despite having slept well, we landed in Bangkok feeling ruin down as we searched for coffee and an internet connection.  Sitting at a cafe, food and drink in hand; with the internet running smoothly we were both confused as to why we grew increasingly more dizzy and nauseous.  We finally realize we were both under the magical spell of motion sickness.  Unable to focus or concentrate on much we stumbled through the necessary steps of finding the address and phone number of our Bangkok host;  a process which took about an hour.  The effects did not weaken as we (and when I say we, I mean Julian) figured out how to get to our host Songwoot's work where we might deposit our luggage for the rest of the day. 

We took the subway then linked to the sky train and got off at Phrom Phong station towards Songwoot's workplace.  He greeted us, gave us a place to store our bags and exceeded expectations by offering us a much needed shower.  A stone well was full of cool water with a plastic tub available; a typical bathing situation around these parts.  I poured the water over my head and closed my eyes, willing the world around me to stand still.  Feeling momentarily better I was thankful for a change of clothing.  My newly grounded feeling was temporary though; as soon as I stood out in the heat of the sun the world continued to spin.  We had a good nine hours before we were to meet Songwoot after work.   I have no idea how Julian was feeling so ambitious in our current state but the excitement of a new city drove him to get back on the public transport system and see as much of Bangkok as possible in the next nine hours. 

Picking a spot on the map, Julian expertly navigated the transport system with a delicate me in toe, moaning every so often as escalators went up, down and sideways.  Certain I was spiralling into the abyss we rose to the surface of the street and I was hit with the sight of a stunning multi level temple.  The stairs and facade in ivory white capped with golden roof tops and doorways.  I stopped dead in my tracks as I stared at this stunning piece of work and climbed the multiple stair cases to the top of Wat Traimit.  I had no idea what to expect.  Inside, I was shocked to learn that the three meter statue of Buddha in a traditional seated position, was of solid 18 karat gold valued at about US$250 million.  It sat upon a white throne surrounded by offerings of gold, fruit, water and two large elephant tusks.  The interior decor was equally as impressive. The ceiling, supporting pillars and the four doorways are decorated with intricate designs laid in gold leaf; I sat down on the tiled floor, careful to leave my feet beneath me (as it is considered disrespectful to point the bodies most 'unclean' part to any person or religious symbol) and surround myself with the beauty. 

As we made to leave the temple a couple walked up to the entrance but were stopped by staff;  the American woman's short shorts and tank top unacceptable attire to stand before Buddha.  Disheartened, she stood in the door way itching with anticipation.  Turning, she noticed I was draped in my pashmina and she brightened with hope.  Of course, I was happy to lend it to her, and we waited whilst she adjusted the shawl to the curators satisfaction before she entered the chamber, earning herself a tongue in cheek reprimand in the process as she revealed a little to much skin in view of the statue, the curator proclaimed in a loud Thai accent with American inflection "Whoa!… The Buddha is gonna kick your ass!".  

The American's huge smile was infectious and I shared her energy as she stood before the Buddha.  Overjoyed, she returned my pashmina to me, thanking me repeatedly.  The three of us along with her boyfriend sat on the steps in the early evening warmth, the temple closed to the public for another day as the girl filled us with the story of this Buddha her father used to tell her. 

This Buddha was once the prized possession of the formal capital, Ayutthaya.  When the Thais learned of the forthcoming invasions of the Burmese in 1767, the statue was completely plastered over with a thick layer of stucco and later painted, so the Burmese would assume it was financially worthless to prevent it from being stolen.  The statue remained unnoticed in the ruins of Ayutthaya for over 30 years. In 1801, with the Burmese once more pushed back and Bangkok as the new capital city, Thai King Buddha Yodfa Chulaloke decided that various old Buddha images which lay in ruins around the country should be retrieved to the capital.  The statue was moved multiple times over the years until finally, in 1955, the statue was being moved once again and the ropes holding the statue broke. The statue fell hard on the ground. Some of the plaster coating of the statue chipped off, allowing the gold surface underneath to be seen; the true identity of the statue having been forgotten for almost 200 years. 

Fully satisfied with this fascinating story, we sat on the steps for 90 minutes sharing our own life stories before heading off in opposite directions.  On foot Julian and I walked down the street towards China town before being stopped by a man who seemed genuinely good willed by offering us valuable information about the surrounding area.  Informing us that there was nothing worth seeing in the direction we were walking, he got a pen and marked various points of interest onto our map.  After a brief overview, he pulled over a tuk-tuk, got us a great deal of 40BHT (CND$1.20) of a three stop tour of the city.  Happy with this seemingly fabulous deal we sat on the two seater bench of the covered wagon, our driver on the single front seat operating the three wheeled vehicle resembling a motorcycle with an attached cab.  We couldn't help but giggle our way through chaotic Bangkok rush hour traffic as he expertly squeezed into impossibly small spaces between cars, neighbouring motorcycles inching their way between us and the cars.  

He took us to what he told us was the oldest Buddhist temple in Bangkok, Wat Thepsirimthrawat, which I later found through Wikipedia as being inaccurate information.  We drove through the busy streets and he offered us a 'free stop' to a custom tailors.  We told him we were not interested but he insisted we check their quality materials.  Shaking our heads we walked in and were immediately accosted by a sales man trying to interest us in a custom made suit.  Insisting that we couldn't fit one into our backpack he suggested he could ship it home.  We told him we have no home which confused him further as we insisted we had no intention on making a purchase.  Admitting defeat he backed away and let us out the doors. 

We met Songwoot for dinner; a plate of chicken, rice and hot chilli sauce, before taking a taxi 15km out of the city towards his out in the suburbs of Bangkok.  Unfortunately his home was victim to two feet of flooding in 2011 and the effects were still evident, although as we learnt later, the flood damage did allow him to buy this property that he had been previously renting at an exceptional price.  Our upstairs bedroom was in good condition however and with a couple of futon mattresses on the floor, came complete for the first time in weeks with air-con every night.  Getting out of the hectic, loud city centre to a quiet street with literally no traffic was a relief.  With the effect of motion sickness worse than it was that morning I went to bed early, only the local pack of stray dogs howling into the night to lull us to sleep. 

Expressions of Penang (Pt 2 of 2)

June 15th - June 18th, 2012

We returned to Penang to take care of getting our Thai visas processed before entering the country.  We could have gotten a free 15 day tourist visa on arrival however were hoping for a 90 day multiple entry visa which would allow us to use Thailand as a 'home base' so to speak during the next few months. 

We arrived at the embassy in the nick of time, leaving our passports for a few hours as they processed our request; service and efficiency unheard of in past visa application experiences.  Unfortunately however, they informed us multiple entry was impossible.  They offered us a 60 day single entry visa to which I hesitated spending the RM110 on; the entire point being the allowance of multiple entries.  Not being one to stand there and argue with bureaucrats at the 11th hour, Julian pushed our passports through window to be processed anyway. 

We had a few hours to spare before picking our passports up later that afternoon.  After pausing at a local market for a suspiciously over-priced lunch, we stood before the gold, red and blue gates of Wat Chayamangkalaram;  a Siamese Buddhist temple home to the worlds third largest reclining Buddha.  

A gorgeous, traditional Thai temple lay just beyond the entrance of the gate boasting its red and golden pointed roofs which I anticipate seeing more when we travel north out of Malaysia into Thailand.  Removing our shoes and entering the first temple I stood before a large, gold plated statue of a standing Buddha.  He gazed down at me with intelligent eyes and knowing smile.  Devote worshipers knelt down on a thin carpet which covered the tiled floor with lotus patterns.  With burning incense in their hands, they bowed their head and raised their hands to their forehead presenting their offerings and prayers. 

Outside, in the elaborately painted courtyard glowing with shades of gold, red and blue, more shrines lead us to a large shallow pool filled with some of the largest Koi I have ever seen.  The signposts insisted shoes be removed here too and I felt my feet swell as I skipped across the surface of the ceramic floor, almost burning with the heat of the sun. 

Originally, in 1900, the main shrine was of Chinese structure which stood for 88 years before massive renovations became necessary.  Today, it is of traditional Thai Buddhist architecture, elaborately painted to match the rest of the grounds in the familiar golds, reds and blues.  Two large, green dragons approximately six meters in length greeted us before we passed through the main doors which were guarded by tall, brightly coloured warriors with exaggeratedly fierce facial expression.  Removing our shoes once more and entering the shrine we stood before the 33 meter gold-plated statue of the reclining Buddha;  a peaceful half-smile gracing its serene face, he lay on his right side with head resting in the palm of his hand.  Surrounding him, the wallpaper on the walls lay imprinted with golden figures of Buddha set within the royal blue while the legend of Buddhas life has been painted by skilled artists.  Behind the statue and beneath its 'bed' sit  hundreds of beautifully decorated urns containing the ashes of the devout and deceased inside niches on the walls. 

Time passed quickly and we realized it was time to pick up our passports.  I was thankful Julian agreed to take the 50 minute return trip journey back to the embassy alone as I sat in the shade of the rear gardens of the temple.  As he was gone, the heat penetrated me deeply, further intensifying my persistent headache and bringing waves of dizziness.  I lay on the grass until my skin began to itch fiercely.  I sat up to notice a red rash where I had been in contact with the grass as one of those red and black ants crawled up the back of my leg.  I unsuccessfully swatted it away as it pierced my skin, leaving me with a awful stinging sensation that stayed with me hours to come.  I went straight to the nearest toilets, grabbed the hose which was attached to the wall beside the toilet and drenched my hair, legs and arms in attempt to cool my overheated body.   Feeling beaten and bothered by persistent discomfort I headed for the small shop in search of something to cool me down from the inside out.  I found Julian laying back on a bench, ice cream in hand and worn look on his face.  He too had suffered on his walk to the embassy as I noticed the similar faint look on his face.  Passports and Thai visas successfully collected we retreated to the comfort of an air conditioned shopping mall and decided on spending this night in Malaysia in front of the big screen.  Surrounded by the cold, dark air in a modern multiplex we sat back to watch Men in Black III.

It was Julians turn to endure the hardships of traveling through developing countries.  He spent the night and following day keeled over a bucket in what appeared to be far more pain that I was in.   Either that, or I am just far better at being ill than he. (far more ill, but still not calling for an ambulance / priest…. ed)  Upon hearing Julian was ill our family in Taiping insisted we return and get out of the budget accommodation with no air conditioning.  Julian couldn't move though; I bathed him regularly with a wet towel as a heat wave still sat upon Malaysia. 

His illness passed far quicker than mine and he felt almost 100% by the next day with the exception of having no appetite.  After attempting a bowl of oatmeal we boarded a bus to visit the Snake Temple.

Walking up the stairs we entered the temple and stood before a shrine facing Buddha.  There was green snakes hanging off branches, a sign warning of their poison and not to touch.  I was not convinced however;   they lay motionless with a skin resembling plastic.  Unimpressed, I walked through the temple to another room to find a couple men guarding two large pythons.  Beside them inside a plexiglass cage were two more species; vipers and a albino constrictor.   Turning my attention to the pythons they offered the opportunity to hold then and get a picture taken for RM30.  Julian being a borderline professional there was no way I way paying that much for a picture to be taken of me and I politely declined, though secretly disappointed to have to turn down the opportunity to have one of these creatures wrapped around me.  I placed my hand on their scales, feeling their muscles rippling and waving.  Offering my hard towards his face, his tongue graced my skin as he smelled me.   When we were the only people in the room Julian finally asked if I might hold the python without having the photo taken and I was soon wrapped in three meters of constrictor. 

That evening as the sun set we visited the UNESCO World Heritage sight of the Clan Jetties. These extraordinary constructions reach out on stilts into the ocean. An entire community live under conditions that can only be described by the untrained eye as "precarious". The jetties were built by Chinese settlers over 100 years ago using (it appears) any materials they had to hand. Supported upon concrete piles a small shanty town holds a few dozen families still; many operating shops, guest houses and other businesses out of their premisses. Though now (with World Heritage status) a constant renovation program is under way to maintain and improve the structures, still some of the piles are simply stacks of paint cans filled with concrete, roofs are corrugated iron and rotting boards were being replaced as we passed. Most of the tourists seems to have gone by the time we walked the boards, leaving us to wander through this setting as the local people went about winding down their days and relaxing for a few hours as darkness fell.  Fishing boats were coming in from a day at sea,  a family worked together repairing their deck and housewives sat together on the boardwalk with cups of tea as they laughed together. 

After a bite to eat, we headed towards the Fort Cornwallis anticipating a martial arts performance we had found advertised in a leaflet, until we realized that it was in fact at 9:00AM rather than PM.  Disappointed, we kept walking and ended up in a pleasant evening stroll along the promenade, apparently where locals like to come in the evening with their children and eat their evening meal, fish, or walk along the coast as we were.  In no real rush, we gradually made our way through Georgetown itself, the former administrative centre for the British and also a UNESCO World Heritage site in its own right; the colonial architecture apparent in just about every building as we walked back through Little India and on to our accommodation in China Town. 

Taiping Impressions (3 of 3)

June 10th- June 15th, 2012

The following morning Peter took us into his work to set up a machine before taking the rest of the day off to show us around.   It turned out to be a fascinating experience; the family business is a machine shop fulfilling small scale orders making gears.  We wandered around the shop watching the lathes and milling machines as the gears were made.  We watched Peter setting his blank and cutting tool for an individual syncro gear made from high grade copper which although almost as valuable as gold, still costs less to replace than the worm gear it was destined to act upon; he laid paper around the base to catch the fragments of copper, far to valuable to be considered waste. 

It was what lay in the upper attics of the factory however that help my attention.  I remember seeing in one of the National Geographic my Dad collected, stories of "Birds Nest Soup".   My memory wandered to visions of small birds living in small, dark, hard to access caves building their nests from saliva.  People would go in stealing these nests from these hard to reach places and fetch high prices for this Chinese delicacy; these edible bird's nests among the most expensive animal products consumed by humans and used for over 400 years.

Here, however, things work sightly differently.  Providing ideal conditions for the birds speakers are set up at the windows mimicking their song.  These Swiftlets build their nests in upper roofs of the factory.  

We were offered to opportunity to see and hold these white nests which are supposedly rich in nutrients and believed to come with countless health benefits.  We watched on a monitor as the birds flew around, building these nest which will later be consumed. 

We drove out of the village and into the rural farmlands of Taiping and were faced with a fascinating experience; Mangrove Swamps and Charcoal Factory Tour.  I believe this experience deserves and entire entry in itself which has been posted following this one. 

After an incredibly education experience at the Mangrove Swamps Peter took us to a part of the city he himself had actually never been!  Its great when we can show the local people around their own town! 

I find graveyards to be peaceful places and enjoy the differences I have seen around the world.  My favourite at this point being the ancient Celtic crosses found across the United Kingdom.  These Chinese burial plots, however, may easily tie with the Celts for first place.  Families are buried together and no expensive is spared on the gorgeous headstones, all very unique, engraved with beautiful Chinese characters.  

A river ran down the slope here; upstream a man bathed naked in the sacred waters whilst further downstream a group of young people played with thick black inner tubes.  We following a winding road through a gate and further up to a Buddhist Meditation Retreat.  The people here were under a 'noble silence' though a couple broke this seal to converse with us and let us know what was going on up here.  We learned that the lower gate is usually shut;  service vehicles only permitted on the grounds of the retreat.  Discourage that we had gatecrashed this retreat we apologized for our mistake but they welcome us anyway, eager to share their experience of what goes on up here, inviting us to participate the meditation which was to commence four hours from then and further suggesting we consider spending the month in peaceful, guided meditation.  Their open mindedness soon turned sightly conflicted with they noticed Peter had gone for a wander into the females only section of the retreat.  He quickly noticed our panic and returned.  Embarrassed that we had barged our way up in a jeep, broken their humble silence and invaded on the restricted areas of the centre we quickly thanked them for the information and left them to their peace. 

I was not sure what to expect from dinner that evening.  Initially, I wore my usual day to day top then noticed that they had dressed 'smart casual' and reconsidered, throwing on a fresh, long sleeved white top.  We walked into the large banquet hall full of 10 seater tables compete with a rotating centre.  We were formally greeted by the staff and immediately served Chinese tea in small China cups and Tiger Beer in small glasses.  Each beverage was kept at its ideal temperature, waiters continually focused on filling our small vessels. 

Apparently Uncle had already placed the order by phone and we were soon presented with the first course; a platter of Dim Sum.  Crispy pork followed followed and then probably the most beautiful vegetable dish I have ever had the pleasure of consuming.  Lotus roots,  ginkgo biloba, delicate mushrooms and bok choy were the highlights.  A gorgeous soup came after an entire cod cooked a different way for each fillet then uniquely flavoured.   A mutton noodle dish ended the savoury delights before we were served desert;  a sinfully delightful coconut strudel type of pastry with a peanut dipping sauce.  As usual, the conversation flowed as freely as the food and tea.  This is among one of the most enjoyable meals I have ever sat down to and I am blown away by the generosity and hospitality of our Malaysian family.  

That night, I got hit with the illness I was told to expect from doctors and friends who have traveled this part of the world.  My stomach wrenched in pain as I vomited through the night.  I was sure it was not food poisoning as all the dishes were communal and nobody else felt ill.  All part and parcel of being a westerner traveling through developing countries.  I spent 24 hours unable to move as my body emptied and cleansed itself.  Auntie treated me like her daughter, caring for me like a mother would.  I am so thankful to have been within the comfort of this family home while enduring such illness rather than in the hot, not so nurturing conditions of our usual budget accommodation.  Our stay was extended yet another two nights as I healed.    

The following day, after forcing down some oatmeal, Peter, Julian and I spent a relaxing day around Taiping itself. We went to the local museum and came across some of the most gorgeous teak wood furniture. Because teak is both such a wood in demand and because it is regulated heavily in Malaysia, one company has taken upon itself to recover fallen timber from the swamps. This is not a particularly new idea, but one that has been adapted to Taiping. Just the root structures are used and with a creative eye behind the chainsaw, truly unique and stunningly beautiful furniture emerges. The pieces are then hand finished by a team of three employees who work out of passion, it is plain to see, as much as the need to place food on the table. Inspired and blown away by works of art, we are giving much thought (and hopefully still some action) to bring some of this back to be sold in the western world.  A project still lingering on our minds. 

I was slightly disappointed that I was well enough to resume our travels and return to Penang;  our Malaysian hosts having turned into a second family to us here.   I am so thankful for the invitation Peter sent, it was one of the best couch surfing experiences I have ever had and feel that Taiping should be added to every tourism guidebook. 

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With Brianne sleeping after a long night I accepted Peters offer of dinner and we headed out into the town to meet up with some friends. We ended up both of the last two evenings in Taiping eating the "Best Western Food In Town" which (in all fairness) was pretty good. It had been a while since I'd even seen a potato and quite frankly it was a bit of a treat to my digestive system to gorge on recognizable starches. I love the food here, but it has definitely being playing silly buggers with my innards and chicken and chips sat very nicely in my stomach. Peter introduced me to a group of his friends and we cruised around the town just as I would in any other city I've been in. A great social crew out for a bite and a break from the pressures of the working week. We all got on pretty well and conversation was never left wanting between us. The constant flow of chatter brought home to me once more how very similar we all are as a species once you get past the superficial differences of language, cast and geography  and take a look at the wider picture. So completely normal and relaxed did these two evenings feel, I scarcely feel they were worth a mention in a travel blog such as this, but then again perhaps that is why Peter, Jon, Fiona, Sabrina and the others deserve such a mention. To be welcomed as I  was into their evenings was a break for me too. To be able to relax in the company of friends is a privilege rarely offered when we are travelling and having shared some time with them, especially Peter and Jon who I sat up with until the wee small hours, to make new and firm friends, deserves a mention in itself.

Apart from great company, the one other moment of these evenings deserving of comment was a parade Peter and I happened across, purely by chance. We were at a fuel station filling the car up when a loud and lively procession of floats began making their way around the intersection about 100m away. Peter was somewhat caught off guard and agreed we should park the car and find out what was going on. Once in a while pure chance intervenes in adventures such as this, and this appeared to be my night for this was the parade to honour the nine God kings, the annual celebration by Chinese immigrants across the world (and please correct me if I have not remembered the history taught by Peter that evening) The nine God kings gave up their humanity to bear the troubles of those migrating from their homeland, to ensure the migrants prospered in their new lives abroad and each year the descendants of the original ancestors remember and honour them with a parade of typical taoist extravagance and religious fervour. The absolute highlight for me however was to glimpse my very first lion dance. Two wonderful, traditional Chinese lions danced and jumped along the parade route. I first saw the lion dance at the start of a Jackie Chan film (I forget which one) and was immediately captivated by the athleticism the performers had, the life the two men under the costume gave to the lion, with eyelids fluttering and the mouth movement along with their phenomenal strength as the "tail" lifted the "head" to stand on his shoulders, making the lion 10' tall I was left giggling like a five year old child by the side of the road as this was replayed in front of me.

Taipings Mangrove Swamps and Charcol Factory (2 of 3)

June 10th- June 15th, 2012

We drove out of town and into the rural outskirts down the paved road in between acres of Mangrove Swamps.  The impressive root systems standing far above the level of the water supporting sturdy trees above and penetrating the murky saline waters below. The low tide offered incredible perspective into these important eco systems which protect these tropical costal areas from erosion. 

This unique experience Peter showed us had me in awe; its like the kind of stuff you read in National Geographic or see on the Discovery Channel, and here we are, in the heart of it; living it.  This was only the beginning of what Peter managed to pull of of his hat that day. He pulled into a sandy driveway and parked at the end of a long waterway in-between two tin roofed factories.  When I say 'factory' please don't envision a modern operation on a large scale, using heavy machinery, fork lifts and transport trucks.  This is far from such a place and a stage or two further on in scale to the simple charcoal making of centuries passed. Labour intensive, time consuming and of a finite yield, as we were to find out, government regulated to ensure survival both of resources and of the industry.

The sun already was taking its toll on me after just a few minutes out of the car air-con, I headed towards to first shelter available as we made our way to the building.  Expecting the shade to provide relief I was hit with a wall of heat more intense than that outside.  As my eyes adjusted to the light I raised my eyebrows at the sight laid out in front of us.  A row of brick kilns spread down the entire length of the enclosure; one in the process of being built, some completely sealed with plumes of steam rising from them, others with fires at their entrances and still another being filled with the raw materials.  On the wall hung numerous newspaper and magazine articles featuring this location.  A dark soot littered the dirt floor as we walked slowly down the walkway.  The owner of the factory was initially busy but soon came to meet us; a friend to Peter who played tennis together. Michael is a well educated man, heading towards his 60th birthday I would estimate. He has worked in this industry for some 35 years and regularly it turned out, accepts groups of students from Kuala Lumpar, Penang and as far away as BC, Canada to tour his facilities. We could not have stumbled upon a better or more enthusiastic teacher if we had searched the world over. His passion for his industry is infectious, his English impeccable and he welcomed us into his factory, giving us freely an hour or more of his time to explain the process from start to finish

Three men worked at building a kiln.  We learned that the government regulates the sizes of the kilns, limiting its maximum size to seven meters high to 6.7 meters in diameter to help conserve the mangrove forests.  I was relieved and pleased to hear that re-planting of these forests is very important to them; each tree being replanted to preserve the forests and the future of their business. Outside, long, narrow wooden boats float down the canal at high tides, bringing the wood from deep in the swamps to the factory side.  A young boy was scooping leaves from the bottom of a boat while his sister sat in the shade.  The logs are cut to size and stripped of bark before being shipped to the factory, and there were piles of material already prepared on the dockside ready to be loaded into a waiting kiln. 200m up the canal and on the opposite side, a slender woman rolled the logs end over end into a wooden barrow before shifting them, a dozen or so at a time into another factory across from Michaels. Backbreaking work in temperatures approaching 35C.

Michael lead us to a completed kiln which was in the process of being loaded.  He encouraged us to walk inside through the low doorway and the air was dramatically different.  A heavy moisture thick with the aroma of fresh wood hung in the air.  My pores opened fully to accept the moisture; the inside of the kiln feeling very much like the interior of steam room.  Interestingly it felt amazing which was unexpected due to the constant heat of the tropics which we are subject to on a daily basis. I lingered in this room, breathing deeply and completely taking in the energy built up inside this small space.   The logs, all of uniform size, stood vertically on top of small flat stones; a gap between the floor and the wood to allow for air circulation.  Similarly, five to six meters remained at the top of the beehive shaped kiln for the same reason.  

Once filled, a fire is set at the mouth of the kiln and fed with a mixture of imported, slower burning wood and offcuts from the Mangroves.  They continue feeding the fire for approximately ten days until the temperature inside the kiln reaches an ideal 85C.  Interestingly, no thermometers are used here.  Sticking to ancient tradition, a skilled supervisor will judge the temperature of the kilns by smelling the steam rising from a small chimney at the side of the kiln.  Michael tells us that different aromas are produced which helps in telling the state of the wood; coffee, chocolate and vinegar.  As we approached the chimney the aroma of vinegar is evident to me (though I tend to have a particularly accurate nose for stuff like that).  He encouraged us to approach the chimney, feel the steam rising and smell for ourselves.  The stream kissed my hand as I wafted the air towards my face, breathing it in, Peter and Julian following suit. 

"So, what do you smell? Who smells Chocolate? Coffee?"  He asked with a smile.  I shook my head. 

"No, definitely vinegar."  I told him to which he responded by offering me a job testing the temperatures of his kilns. 

Once a kiln reaches the desired temperature the fire is reduced in size to maintain a constant heat which will continue to bake the wood for about 12 days.  A higher temperature would burn the wood and a lower one would give uneven heat distribution and poor quality product.  The kiln is closely observed; when the constant plumes of steam coming from the three chimneys around the kiln dissipate and the scent mellowed to chocolate it is evident that the wood has been completely dehydrated and ready for the next step.  The fire is removed from the entrance of the kiln which is then sealed completely allowing the cooling process to occur at a very slow rate, taking about 6 days to reveal about 11 tons of the best charcoal in the world ready to be weighed, packed and distributed to consumers. 

Finally we reached the end product, a small room set at one end of the factory building where two women sat on small stools packing by hand, the charcoal into 4kg paper packets for shipment (in this case) to Kuala Lumpur. It is a dusty, dirty job in a tin roofed room in the tropical heat and once more I count my blessings. A five ton truck waited alongside and was gradually filled with these paper parcels before heading out on the long journey south.

We stood next to the swamp, admiring the these gorgeous trees.  This experience at the Mangrove Swamps and Charcoal Factory was an unexpected and completely fascinating experience.