(by Mia)
Joe and I are still in Delhi and still absolutely LOVING it. It's crowded and dirty and hot and colorful and chaotic and crazy and I think the most all-around fascinating place we've been so far. There are just people doing things everywhere you look. A barber shop that is just a chair by the side of the road and a mirror nailed to a wall, and a guy standing there shaving another guy- right alongside the 4-lane highway!! Or the Indian equivalent; they don't really do "lanes" here. And inches from this barber shop is a juice stand, one guy with about a thousand pieces of fruit and a blender, potential customers trying to push through the herd of passing holy cattle that has decided to graze on discarded mango peels right in front of the stand. Every business here has a sign that looks like it was constructed from discarded scrap metal and painted by a kindergarten class, and then shot with a few dozen times with a bebe gun. Next to the juice shop are a couple teenagers stirring a huge vat of boiling milk over some hot coals and burning garbage. Women are lining up with their pots and pails and pans in which they'll take their milk home and boil it again, just to be safe. Weaving through the cars and rickshaws and motorbikes and pedestrians is an old man on a bicycle pulling a wooden cart of various rubbish, calling out what sounds like "BARAAAYA!" in a kind of sing-songy chant. He buys and sells anything and everything people no longer want, and goes through the crying out this same appeal, a kind of super-convenient traveling garage-sale.
The slums are wild, picturesque in a kind of fascinatingly horrible way. All the ramshackle houses are painted different colors, vibrant teals and yellows and deep deep reds. Once you enter the slums the passageways are barely wide enough for two people to pass each other, yet residents of course have their goats and chickens and everything in there, crowding the lanes narrow lanes, already flowing with human waste and garbage. Yet it's oddly beautiful too. Even in the slums, women dress in ornately decorated saris, covered in tiny mirrors and rhinestones and jewels, layers of flowing pants under skirts under shawls and silky decorative scarves. We pass shrines everywhere we go, little pockets of sanctity carved out of walls or tucked into corners. Miniature images of deities and portraits of saints, where businessmen will put down their briefcases and pause to pour yogurt over the head of a goddess and light a candle in prayer. And there's so much more. I could go on and on.
We're living with the founder of a nonprofit that does outreach to kids in the slums, providing them with classes and tutoring and food and clothes and sometimes scholarships too. Joe and I are teaching a conversational English class to the teachers and math/English/speech class (depending on the student) to a group of disabled girls. From what we've gathered, the public schools here basically have no infrastructure to accommodate students with disabilities, so they're either not permitted to attend, or they're allowed into class but aren't given any special help, so they quickly fall way way behind. Our students have a huge range of problems and are at all different levels in their formal education, so we have to create different lesson plans for each student every day. Today I was teaching very basic addition to a deaf 10 year old and learning disabled 19 year old, while Joe worked on multiplication with 2 deaf teenagers and an 11 year old girl who's lost the use of her legs as a result of polio. Joe's also working on a mural in one of the schools with a very talented deaf girl who's dubbed herself his apprentice, as well as starting up general art classes with another volunteer.
P-WHY runs a women's center as well, a home for women who have had to leave their families (usually because of spousal abuse) as well as a vocational school for women in the slums. I had the girls in the beauty class do my eyebrows the other day. They use a piece of string, twisted in the middle around a finger and held with one end in the hand and the other between the teeth of the beautician. She then uses her thumb to gouge the eye of her client (in this case, me) to keep the skin taut, while quickly tightening the twists in the string and in one quick motion -- ripping out the eyebrow hair by the root. It's painful but very effective.
The house we're staying in is amazing. The founder of the organization and her husband have spent a lot of their lives abroad, as have their kids. Anou is beautiful and well-traveled and politically active and spiritual in a new age, yoga, businesswoman/advocate kind of way. And her husband Ranjin is the quintessential Indian Colonial British gentleman, with his scotch and cigars and love of Elvis Presley music. He'll gather us all into the "drawing room" or whatever after dinner and play old rock and roll and quiz us on who sings this and who sings that, and then scold Joe and me for not knowing our own cultural heritage. And they have servants. I know Joe wrote about this is the last blog, but WOW! It's just so, well... foreign to us. Even now I can hear a faint voice in a far away hallway calling out, "Deepak?! Chanda?!" Joe just bought a used motorcycle, and he and Deepak spent yesterday afternoon cleaning and polishing it (Deepak's idea), two very excited boys with new toy. They're making big plans for when Joe's good enough to carry passenger's- how they'll go down to the milk shop together and back. Watch out Delhi!
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Welcome to India
Hey Everyone,
We are now in (New) Delhi, India. We arrived on the 4th of April after a great few months just hanging out in Malaysia (which I still need to write about, hopefully soon). We have hooked up with an NGO here called "project WHY?" Don't ask me what it means because I don't know.
Our initial introduction to India was great. No hassles at the airport and a great hotel for a great price on our first night here. We got such a good nights sleep. We woke up in a neighborhood in central Delhi where the narrow streets are filled with poop and mud and trash and cows wandering around eating the mixture of poop, mud and trash and motorbikes and tractors are swerving around hoards of colorfully dressed people who all dress like they are straight out of the 70's. The 3 -4 storey buildings that lined the roads each have their own individual architectural style. Wonderful.
After our single night stay in a touristy little area we got in touch with the project creator named Anou and set up a plan to meet her at her house. On the way we met a man named Romeo who was very helpful and even offered to let us just rent a room in his home for the three months we are here. We went to check it out but found it was too crowded. That seems to be a problem here in India. I have never seen so many people in one place before. On a 30 minute walk back and forth from Anou's to Subway (yes, the American sandwich chain) I estimated that I saw 3,000 human beings. That's too many. How can I possibly get to know all these people and memorize their names.
We are now staying in the home of the project creator as I mentioned. It is a 3 story mansion in the Chirag Enclave which is, from what I gather visually, a very wealthy neighborhood. We are staying on the second floor in our own spacious room with satellite cable, an attached bath and a king sized bed. The home has a styling that makes it seem like it was left over from British occupation, though it was build much more recently. It has high ceilings, many sitting and music rooms and multiple marble stairways so you never feel like, "Ugg, THIS stairway again!" The decor is sort of Old Fashioned World Traveller. Many paintings and photos of Prague, a hall full of African relics, another hall fill of Indian portraits. In the music room there is a giant tiger skin rug tacked to the wall next to a black and white photo of the tiger laying dead in the grass near the proud hunters.
Anou's husband Ranjin recently quit his job to pursue his life's dream. Can you guess what it is? That's right! He wants to open his own air cargo shipping business. Don't worry, I didn't guess it either. However, as of yet he has not opened it so he can be seen coming and going throughout the day in an assortment of different outfits suited to his activities. A fancy smoking jacket, a golf outfit, a Quality Lubricants polo and slacks. I was confused by the Venetian gondola paddler outfit but felt it better not to ask in case the real answer was less exciting than my own imagined answer. He often sits in the music room and plays the piano. The music washes through the old house and drapes everything in a sort of forgotten era feeling. He is a great piano player. Mia threw me under the bus and said that I also play piano so he spent an afternoon trying to get me to play, but I only know like a third of one song and I can only play it with the notes taped on the keys so eventually he gave up.
We also have 4 full time servants in the house who clean our room, cook for us, do our laundry, and will perform any other task you may need. Do you need some tea? Just yell, "TEA!" at the top of your lungs. Same with, "TOAST!" If they don't have the ting you want in the house it will be there within ten minutes. If it is something more complicated just yell the name of the servant who best suits your needs. If you don't feel like getting up off your bed to plug in your laptop with the dying battery yell, "DE-PAK!" Depak will arrive shortly and plug it in. Don't feel like dressing yourself? "CHO-PRA!" She get the job done.
Andy, the recently self appointed volunteer coordinator, took Mia and I out on our second day here to the Baha''i Lotus temple near the house. It was a very impressive temple when we first toured it... but then we went to the visitor center on our way out and watched a movie on how they built it. This thing is like 150 feet tall and looks like a giant marble lotus flower rising from the ground, totally hollow in the center, surrounded by pools of water. Turns out they built the whole thing using tools like a stone tied to a stick and just a plain stick with no stone at all. The movie of it under construction looked like a 70's film about the building of the great pyramids or something. Wowza!
We are now in (New) Delhi, India. We arrived on the 4th of April after a great few months just hanging out in Malaysia (which I still need to write about, hopefully soon). We have hooked up with an NGO here called "project WHY?" Don't ask me what it means because I don't know.
Our initial introduction to India was great. No hassles at the airport and a great hotel for a great price on our first night here. We got such a good nights sleep. We woke up in a neighborhood in central Delhi where the narrow streets are filled with poop and mud and trash and cows wandering around eating the mixture of poop, mud and trash and motorbikes and tractors are swerving around hoards of colorfully dressed people who all dress like they are straight out of the 70's. The 3 -4 storey buildings that lined the roads each have their own individual architectural style. Wonderful.
After our single night stay in a touristy little area we got in touch with the project creator named Anou and set up a plan to meet her at her house. On the way we met a man named Romeo who was very helpful and even offered to let us just rent a room in his home for the three months we are here. We went to check it out but found it was too crowded. That seems to be a problem here in India. I have never seen so many people in one place before. On a 30 minute walk back and forth from Anou's to Subway (yes, the American sandwich chain) I estimated that I saw 3,000 human beings. That's too many. How can I possibly get to know all these people and memorize their names.
We are now staying in the home of the project creator as I mentioned. It is a 3 story mansion in the Chirag Enclave which is, from what I gather visually, a very wealthy neighborhood. We are staying on the second floor in our own spacious room with satellite cable, an attached bath and a king sized bed. The home has a styling that makes it seem like it was left over from British occupation, though it was build much more recently. It has high ceilings, many sitting and music rooms and multiple marble stairways so you never feel like, "Ugg, THIS stairway again!" The decor is sort of Old Fashioned World Traveller. Many paintings and photos of Prague, a hall full of African relics, another hall fill of Indian portraits. In the music room there is a giant tiger skin rug tacked to the wall next to a black and white photo of the tiger laying dead in the grass near the proud hunters.
Anou's husband Ranjin recently quit his job to pursue his life's dream. Can you guess what it is? That's right! He wants to open his own air cargo shipping business. Don't worry, I didn't guess it either. However, as of yet he has not opened it so he can be seen coming and going throughout the day in an assortment of different outfits suited to his activities. A fancy smoking jacket, a golf outfit, a Quality Lubricants polo and slacks. I was confused by the Venetian gondola paddler outfit but felt it better not to ask in case the real answer was less exciting than my own imagined answer. He often sits in the music room and plays the piano. The music washes through the old house and drapes everything in a sort of forgotten era feeling. He is a great piano player. Mia threw me under the bus and said that I also play piano so he spent an afternoon trying to get me to play, but I only know like a third of one song and I can only play it with the notes taped on the keys so eventually he gave up.
We also have 4 full time servants in the house who clean our room, cook for us, do our laundry, and will perform any other task you may need. Do you need some tea? Just yell, "TEA!" at the top of your lungs. Same with, "TOAST!" If they don't have the ting you want in the house it will be there within ten minutes. If it is something more complicated just yell the name of the servant who best suits your needs. If you don't feel like getting up off your bed to plug in your laptop with the dying battery yell, "DE-PAK!" Depak will arrive shortly and plug it in. Don't feel like dressing yourself? "CHO-PRA!" She get the job done.
Andy, the recently self appointed volunteer coordinator, took Mia and I out on our second day here to the Baha''i Lotus temple near the house. It was a very impressive temple when we first toured it... but then we went to the visitor center on our way out and watched a movie on how they built it. This thing is like 150 feet tall and looks like a giant marble lotus flower rising from the ground, totally hollow in the center, surrounded by pools of water. Turns out they built the whole thing using tools like a stone tied to a stick and just a plain stick with no stone at all. The movie of it under construction looked like a 70's film about the building of the great pyramids or something. Wowza!
Friday, April 4, 2008
Petting tigers
Hey, I don't know why I didn't put these up earlier. Probably because I was too busy running through the streets at a full gallop yelling, "Did you all see that?! We just petted us some TIGER!!"
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
People from KBC
These two kids called me Uncle Joe and were pretty good fun. They were helpful individually but when you go them together they were nightmares. The tiny one wanted everything slower and safer and the bigger one wanted everything wilder and faster. "Push us FASTER Uncle Joe!" "no, please push us slower uncle joe, it is too dangerous..." "NO FASTER!"
When they helped me with work together it turned into... "Uncle Joe, I'm going to put my hand in the bucket of paint and then put my hand in my mouth!" "Don't do that." "I'm going to put my head in the paint and then open my mouth and then swallow the paint!" "Please, don't do that."
This is Napple (like apple). People have described him as a Malaysian Joe. He is a good guy.
Napple climbs down from a palm tree after cutting down all the coconuts with a pocket knife. He only did this when girls were around.
Joe, Mia, Zack the boat driver, Hans the owner and Brent.
German people a weird, but they know how to have a great time. Marcus demonstrates how a German man applies sunscreen.
These are the same people as in the picture above, but in a different order. You wouldn't know it to look at him, but Zack owns a Chopper, 4 boats, a truck, a Mercedes, and a huge house where he stores a 700 piece T-shirt collection. He also travels every year to places like Europe.
Jelle and Bruce pose in the doorway of the restaurant. Bruce is mostly Stephen Segal. A cook who knows how to kick ass. He shared a wall with us and snored like you wouldn't believe. He would snore so hard that he would inward scream in his sleep. "SnnnnnOOKKKK-aaaAAAAAA!!!... sssSSNNNNNOOKKKK-a-A-AAAAAAA!!!!" It was pretty funny.
This is Kayan. He is one of my favorite people, ever. Half Sri Lanken, half Northern European, with a voice like James Earl Jones, a love of 70's soul music and fast boats, he is extremely well informed about just about everything.
The scuba crew on Kapas. Kaled is smiley here but when he plays volleyball he is stoic and serious. The guy can spike the ball so hard it rings like a bell.
Mie (pronounced 'me') is the only paid member of staff at KBC. Much confusion was caused when people would say things like, "Why don't you and Mie go and finish up the sand moving project," and I would sit around waiting for them to be ready to help me for hours.
Hans is the owner of KBC. A Dutchman. He played baseball for the junior national team in his home country and he doesn't let you forget it. Just in case there is a lull in his glory days of baseball stories he has a tattoo of the Major League logo to remind you he was once a serious ball player. Great guy.
KBC: Not hard work
Joe sits on a table and stares directly into the sun in the KBC restaurant. This was not hard work.
Brent provides a foreground for a photo of the KBC resort. Brent is travelling with us for two weeks. With the three of us on the island we comprised the largest group of Americans EVER to be on Kapas island at one time said one local who hadn't yet arrived on the island when Mia, Marla and Joe were there 3 weeks prior.
Kapas means 'cotton' in Maylay. The island got its name for the soft white sand that rings it.
The backside of the island pre-end of the monsoons.
People play kick the ball to warm up for beach volleyball.
Crystal blue waters may seem like they are tranquil, but these waters have dark motives. They lull a man into a false sense of calm and then they take what he cherishes most and pulls it under, never to be seen again. They took from me my favorite hat and Brent's favorite sandals. They have also taken the fair maidens of Scottish folk singers. Beware.
Brent says, "Do I need to be in the foreground of EVERY picture you take?" The answer is yes. It adds perspective. Here, he is the foreground for a picture of Mia and Meltem hanging out on the beach in front of the KBC restaurant.
Mia and Avril soak up the warmth of a beach bonfire.
Mia poses during a jungle trek to the far side of the island for cliff jumping and snorkeling.
Brent gets a running start at the edge of a cliff. More of a careful, hobbling start because the rocks are extremely sharp and slippery.
Joe and Brent hang out after cliff jumping.
This is what Joe's feet look like from being barefoot for a month. Rugged and manly.
Joe and Brent cook Mexican food for 20 in the KBC kitchen as a thank you for all the staff and our favorite guests. Also because we love Mexican food.
KBC: Hard work
We worked for room and board on KBC. Here are some pictures of us slaving away...Mia hangs laundry out to dry after washing them in a washing machine that fell apart in 1975. Joe helped fold. He didn't get the folds perfect.
Joe was often referred to as "The Pirate" when he was in his work outfit, not because of his look, but because of his propensity to steal.
This is what our room looked like before we cleaned it up, ripped out the ceiling, kicked out a window, and moved in new furniture. In the ceiling was a snake (that fell on Joe), in the walls were gecko eggs, mice, roaches, centipedes and scorpions.
This is our room post renovation. We also added a pink mosquito net which really complimented the roofing tiles.
Joe examines a giant stick bug he found while working. Every bug on the island is giant. It's like a Jurassic island.
These are some of the chalets for guests. Joe replaced a few of their porches and floors.
This is a candid shot Mia took of Joe sleeping in with Onan the cat. We nabbed her off the jetty in Marang right before we came and she quickly became a part of the family. It blows the mind how fast a mangy animal from the streets can become a lazy, spoiled princess. (Referring to Joe)
Joe repairs the foundation and porch of a chalet. There were no power tools so he only had his hands, a hammer, a saw, nails, and his wits.
Mia takes a break to rub Onan's belly. Onan takes a break from sleeping ALL DAY LONG to have her belly scratched. In her defence, she spent nights catching mice in our room and eating them noisily at the foot of our bed, which is exactly why we brought her to the island.
Mia relaxes with a copy of "The Economist" while she waits for a load of laundry to finish.
Joe digs a hole in the sand. 'Move sand from here to there' was a common job for the day. It's fun for the first hour.
Joe and Kayan sort wood into usable wood and beach bonfire wood. Kayan stepped on a nail and then when he was joking about safety last he stepped on another nail. That was the end of his joking.
Mia poses with her outdoor sink. She spent many an hour here scrubbing dishes with only a blue and orange bird and a giant monitor lizard to keep her company.
Joe replaced all the pipes so that Mia's dishwater flowed into the first septic tank and then overflowed into the second tank, eliminating the need to transfer it with buckets and stopping it from running out under the restaurant. The tank was full of maggots the size of fingers and they we inexplicably drawn TOWARD hammers and chisels. Sick me out to the max.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
One Month Ago... Taman Negara
(by Joe)
(This is now a month old, sorry for the late posting)
Hey everyone. It's been a while since I wrote. Most of the last month has been spent travelling with Mia's mother Marla, which has been wonderful. You can scroll down to her guest blogs that she posted to find out more. I would like to talk to you all about Teman Negara now. Teman Negara is a vast expanse of untouched rain forest nestled deep in the heart of peninsular Malaysia. There are only two ways to get there. The first is by a three hour boat ride along a winding river whose banks are crawling with wild monkeys and deadly monitor lizards. The trees act as camouflage for the still thriving rhinoceros, elephants and tigers which stalk each other through the night, each hoping to make a meal of the other. The sky's above the river could theoretically fill with so many birds that the sun could be completely choked out and it would become a virtual night time in the already dense jungle below. (This didn't happen, though I was able to see at least 4 of the 250 species of birds that live in the jungle during our trip (there were very few birds around)). The only other way to reach the jungle is by paved, divided highway.
When we arrived at the small town that acts as a staging camp for those brave enough to enter the Taman Negara wilderness we were briefed on a number of possibe guided trips and then turned loose on our own. The town itself was nothing worth writing home about, so I wont. However, across the river there was a 5 star resort hidden amongst the trees and vines, so we chartered a boat and got us a fancy chalet.
The buffet at the resort was amazing. It boasted of entrees from every corner of the world. Slow piano jazz covers of popular 90's songs competed for the affections of diners ears with the whining buzz saw of cicadas the size of a gorillas thumb. The cicadas, confused by the lights, would find themselves drawn inexplicably into the open air restaurant and thrust headfirst by their own instincts into anything bright around them. Lights, plates, shiny reflections on the plastic straps of a french woman's Invizi-bra. I caught one in my hand, exchanged a nod with an elderly Englishman who saw me do it, and the set it free.
The grounds of the resort were well groomed and only small remnants of the jungle still remained. The most noticeable of which were the giant wild hogs which dotted the lawns and required a full time staff member to circulate with a shovel filling in the holes they made rooting for grubs. All the wood beams, decorative lights and clocks showing times all over the world couldn't mask the savageness of the place completely. One morning I was waiting for some breakfast vouchers in the lobby of the hotel when a squirrel on the wall caught my eye. It was climbing from beam to beam, zigzagging its way up toward the vaulted ceiling. A gecko was also hanging out on the wall, two stories up. It was just relaxing there. Sleeping. The squirrel went out of its way to scamper over, reach up, grab the gecko in its hand, and fling it screaming toward the polished concrete floor. It landed belly down with a rubbery thud. Murdered for fun. That's the way the jungle is. Hardcore.
On our second day in Teman Negara, after a night spent gorging ourselves on international cuisine, playing cards, drinking fine wine and sleeping in, we decided to venture out into the jungle without paying for a guide. We had a map and 3 fairly adept people. That's really all you need. (When I had asked the nature guide the night before what animals he would show us on his jungle trek he had paused, looked embarrassed and then said, "Um, maybe cricket? Maybe spider?" Not worth 30 ringet a piece). The jungle was green and brown and humid. We made our way to the canopy walk.
The canopy walk is a series of suspension bridges 75 feet in the air strung between ancient rainforest trees. After that we hiked to the top of a few hills that looked over the whole valley. Nice. we had been warned about leeches but for the first number of housrs we didn't see any. The leeches here are land leeches. The walk like inchworms along the ground and then when they sense an aproching victim they stand on their tail and stretch up into the air like a thin, glossy stick, allowing them to grab onto shoes even when your foot is passing over them. You can't feel them at all even though they pull 20 times the blood as a mosquito. I saw a couple of other hikes suddenly panic and start grabbing at their shoes while we were walking and so I checked my own. 3 leeches, sucking through my socks. Sneaky little bastards. Mia had them too. For some reason they left Marla completely alone even though she was wearing open sided shoes. For the rest of the hike we had to keep stopping to burn all the leeches off of us with lighters. Even standing still for 30 seconds the came inching in from all directions, tiny black lines radiating out from where we stood, like the black rays of some evil, shrinking sun. The wounds they open can be quite gnarly. By the time we got back one of my socks was half soaked with blood. No pain though. I have so much to write but this is a start. Next up, our one month adventure on Kapas Island. Cliff jumping, vine swinging, jungle treking, cat nabbing, beach bonfireing, Steven Segal look alikes and more!
(This is now a month old, sorry for the late posting)
Hey everyone. It's been a while since I wrote. Most of the last month has been spent travelling with Mia's mother Marla, which has been wonderful. You can scroll down to her guest blogs that she posted to find out more. I would like to talk to you all about Teman Negara now. Teman Negara is a vast expanse of untouched rain forest nestled deep in the heart of peninsular Malaysia. There are only two ways to get there. The first is by a three hour boat ride along a winding river whose banks are crawling with wild monkeys and deadly monitor lizards. The trees act as camouflage for the still thriving rhinoceros, elephants and tigers which stalk each other through the night, each hoping to make a meal of the other. The sky's above the river could theoretically fill with so many birds that the sun could be completely choked out and it would become a virtual night time in the already dense jungle below. (This didn't happen, though I was able to see at least 4 of the 250 species of birds that live in the jungle during our trip (there were very few birds around)). The only other way to reach the jungle is by paved, divided highway.
When we arrived at the small town that acts as a staging camp for those brave enough to enter the Taman Negara wilderness we were briefed on a number of possibe guided trips and then turned loose on our own. The town itself was nothing worth writing home about, so I wont. However, across the river there was a 5 star resort hidden amongst the trees and vines, so we chartered a boat and got us a fancy chalet.
The buffet at the resort was amazing. It boasted of entrees from every corner of the world. Slow piano jazz covers of popular 90's songs competed for the affections of diners ears with the whining buzz saw of cicadas the size of a gorillas thumb. The cicadas, confused by the lights, would find themselves drawn inexplicably into the open air restaurant and thrust headfirst by their own instincts into anything bright around them. Lights, plates, shiny reflections on the plastic straps of a french woman's Invizi-bra. I caught one in my hand, exchanged a nod with an elderly Englishman who saw me do it, and the set it free.
The grounds of the resort were well groomed and only small remnants of the jungle still remained. The most noticeable of which were the giant wild hogs which dotted the lawns and required a full time staff member to circulate with a shovel filling in the holes they made rooting for grubs. All the wood beams, decorative lights and clocks showing times all over the world couldn't mask the savageness of the place completely. One morning I was waiting for some breakfast vouchers in the lobby of the hotel when a squirrel on the wall caught my eye. It was climbing from beam to beam, zigzagging its way up toward the vaulted ceiling. A gecko was also hanging out on the wall, two stories up. It was just relaxing there. Sleeping. The squirrel went out of its way to scamper over, reach up, grab the gecko in its hand, and fling it screaming toward the polished concrete floor. It landed belly down with a rubbery thud. Murdered for fun. That's the way the jungle is. Hardcore.
On our second day in Teman Negara, after a night spent gorging ourselves on international cuisine, playing cards, drinking fine wine and sleeping in, we decided to venture out into the jungle without paying for a guide. We had a map and 3 fairly adept people. That's really all you need. (When I had asked the nature guide the night before what animals he would show us on his jungle trek he had paused, looked embarrassed and then said, "Um, maybe cricket? Maybe spider?" Not worth 30 ringet a piece). The jungle was green and brown and humid. We made our way to the canopy walk.
The canopy walk is a series of suspension bridges 75 feet in the air strung between ancient rainforest trees. After that we hiked to the top of a few hills that looked over the whole valley. Nice. we had been warned about leeches but for the first number of housrs we didn't see any. The leeches here are land leeches. The walk like inchworms along the ground and then when they sense an aproching victim they stand on their tail and stretch up into the air like a thin, glossy stick, allowing them to grab onto shoes even when your foot is passing over them. You can't feel them at all even though they pull 20 times the blood as a mosquito. I saw a couple of other hikes suddenly panic and start grabbing at their shoes while we were walking and so I checked my own. 3 leeches, sucking through my socks. Sneaky little bastards. Mia had them too. For some reason they left Marla completely alone even though she was wearing open sided shoes. For the rest of the hike we had to keep stopping to burn all the leeches off of us with lighters. Even standing still for 30 seconds the came inching in from all directions, tiny black lines radiating out from where we stood, like the black rays of some evil, shrinking sun. The wounds they open can be quite gnarly. By the time we got back one of my socks was half soaked with blood. No pain though. I have so much to write but this is a start. Next up, our one month adventure on Kapas Island. Cliff jumping, vine swinging, jungle treking, cat nabbing, beach bonfireing, Steven Segal look alikes and more!
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