Tuna Free Campaign

November 12 2012

November 12th 2012 was a big day for us. And by 'us' I mean Belgium, although most Belgians aren't aware of the day's crushing importance, yet.

November 12th 2012 was also yesterday, so that makes me a day late.

On November 12th, 2012, our NGO Sea First launched its Tuna Free Campaign, which in its least ambitious form aims to raise awareness on the imminent downfall of our good friend the tuna fish. In its most ambitious form it aims to shift the balance in favor of common sense by stopping the sale, consumption and catch of tuna altogether, but let's not get ahead of ourselves...

Five Really Good Reasons Not To Eat Tuna

• For every one kilogram (or pound/grams/tonnes) of tuna, two kilos (or pounds/grams/tonnes) of sea turtle, shark, squid of even bird was caught with it. To put it differently: bycatch for tuna goes up to 60%, definitely when FAD's are involved.
• If the tuna fish goes down, ecosystems collapse with it. This is bad.
• Nearly every species of tuna is overfished, not only the bluefin tuna.
• Catching tuna means big money. Little regulation means bigger money. Bigger money means mobsters are attracted to it like a fly to feces  Human and animal rights fly out of the window and some Japanese guy pays hundreds of thousands of dollars for a bluefin tuna. Mitsubishi and giant freezers are also involved.
• Tuna isn't as healthy as you think. Keywords/abbreviations: mercury, plastic, food chain, PCB's. 

Due to not having had a lot of sleep the last couple of days, I will not elaborate any further on these reasons, for now. So this leaves you with a few options, one of which is taking my word for it, another is going to http://www.ecosia.org and start researching. Punch it.

PS: It's probably relevant to point out that the information on the Sea First website regarding the Tuna Free Campaign is all still in Dutch. If you'd happen to have one hundred thousand dollars in a sock somewhere, we'd be happy to use it contents to hire a crew for making this a global effort.

Releasing The Babies

Status Report

Back in Belgium. Contracted a cold and I'm coughing all the time, 'nough said...


In Other News

Costa Rica bans shark finning. Here's what Richard Branson had to say about it. 

Ukrain takes a few steps back from common sense by banning gay 'propaganda.' 

In Mali, sharia law is in effect and children are being bought to fight.

Pirate fishing is exposed.

Extreme is the new normal.

Nailing A Milestone

Six months ago, I began work on my 'Elder Scrolls Rescoring Project'. The idea was to write additional music for The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim and to a lesser extent The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. Two games I thoroughly enjoyed, not only because of the open world approach which the series is famous for, but also for the great atmosphere, thanks in no small measure to the music by Jeremy Soule.

Today, after a three month break, I published the third part of my project, adding up to a total of 70 minutes of additional music.

Even if you're not a fan of the games, or you don't even remotely care about gaming altogether, but would like to hear the music, you can still do so here. Geeks go here

On A Related Subject

'Creativity Closely Entwined With Mental Illness.' . Yikes.

On A Kind Of Related Subject

I bought Guild Wars 2. So....bye :)

Back Home

Ten Degrees Celcius And Pouring Rain

This must be home! After 21 hours of doing not much of anything except flying halfway around the world, I've returned to where I've been spending the majority of my 26 years on this planet.

To prove it and to celebrate, here's a piece of music no one's ever heard before:

Back to work!

Full Circle

Wrapping Things Up

If these past few days in Hanoi have taught me anything, it's that:

• Despite of what I think and feel about Vietnam and how tourism is impacting it, Hanoi retained most of its magic for me. This is somewhat puzzeling, as this is the noisiest, dirtiest, smoggiest and crowded town I've been to on this trip. 
• I'll miss the fruits(hakes).
• I'll miss the noodles.
• I'll miss the fresh vegetables.
• When someone tells you not to put your opened, yet firmly closed, package of cookies in your private locker and you do it anyway, you deserve to lose your cookies to an army of really, really small ants.
• Dog is being served on the western edge of the old quarter, heads and everything.
• Wearing an A-shirt scores you drugs, wearing a regular t-shirt doesn't.
• The 'booze cruises' to Halong Bay are immensly popular and they're 'great/awesome/totally amazing'.
• Yes, I think I'm funny.
• When you're sleeping in a dorm with 5 other people, it's usually not a good idea to invite your newly found, and awfully drunk, temporary girl/boyfriend back to the room for some sweet lovin', as he or she will probably spew a night out drinking's worth of stomach contents out on the floor, waking everybody up in the process.
• No matter how tough you look with the tattoos, sixpack, drinking habits and womanizing, when The Lion King is screened in the chill-out area, you'll be fighting back the tears when Mufasa dies. 
• No matter how tough you look with the tattoos, sixpack, drinking habits and womanizing, when The Cove is screened in the chill-out area, you'll be fighting back the tears when the dolphins die.
• I need a haircut.
• He's back, baby!

Souvenir Day

After intensly scouting Hanoi for souvenirs, I decided to stop thinking altogether and just stick with my first choice. An accurate account of a full day, if there ever was one.

To Here, And Back Again Tomorrow

'Dear Southeast Asia, 

Today is my 83rd day abroad.  Alas, 83 days is far too short a time to explore such admirable surroundings.
I don't know half of you as well as I would like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. I have things to do, which I've put off for far too long. I regret to announce that this is the end. I'm going now.

See you later.'

Thanks to everybody who's been following this blog for the past months, I hope you somewhat enjoyed it. I suggest you all bolt before this becomes a fully fleshed out hub for my rants, concerning pretty much everything from scorewriting over social commentary to the feindish world of the fishing industry.

When Everything Turns Into Disneyland...

All Hollowed Out

Traveller's Fatigue. I don't even know if it's a real term, but it perfectly describes what I'm going through right now: I'm tired, I'm angry, I'm disappointed and everywhere I go, I'm tempted to hit someone square in the jaw. Whether it's because I've just been asked for the five hundred thousandth time if I want to pay somebody to drive me 500 meters down the road ('Seh, Seh, at least two kilometah! Velly fah!') on a motorcycle or because of the dog, or the rooster or the monkey that's chained to a post or being sold for lunch, or because of the birds being sold in cages, or because of local tribeswoman, who dress up in all kinds of colors as they always have done, ask you if you would like to come to their village, not unlike a desperate prostitute would present herself to strangers, this has somewhat different material being exchanged in between parties, but the cash will exchange hands just the same. In Vietnam, culture is for sale to the not so very high bidder.

From The Outside Looking In

Foreigners that come here are wealthy, so why should they not be able to buy up everything these Hmong, or other people here, craft? One of the main things I've learned about Vietnam is that the concept of backpacking doesn't compute for the Vietnamese. Why would a person from a wealthy country dress up as a bum and try to get from one country to the other the cheapest way possible? In a country where face, or the way you present yourself, is everything,  they ask why someone would do that? Even if they knew the answer, I'd just be a ridiculous idea to most of them. Keeping this in mind and seeing tourists flood en masse to a place like Sapa, the question on why we don't just buy up everything isn't an unreasonable one. It's gotten so far already that locals will consider it an insult if you don't buy anything from them, whether it's the tour, the motorbike ride, the earring or the piece of cloth. 

Getting To The Bottom Of This

One could say these are 'cultural differences'. We have a way of looking at things and they have a way of looking at things. This isn't about cultural differences, this is about the lack of 'culture'. The lack of taking pride in what you believe and what you find important. From what I've seen and experienced over the past three months, I can conclude that in the places where there isn't a lot of money changing hands, people are more friendly, have more pride and connection to their roots. The more rural you go, the friendlier people get. If you go to these places, suspicion can turn to hospitality by just saying 'Hello' in the local language. These are the places that I would label as 'authentic', although this is somewhat ironic, for me being there means that that authenticity is losing ground to the temptation of more money - although I had to try very hard to get to some places, most of the time it was just too easy -. The point that I'm trying to make is that 'a clash of two worlds', which is mutually beneficial, seems almost impossible these days, although they are portrayed as such by, here we go, a tour or trekking company.

I hate it when people tell me that 'money is what makes the world go round'. Money is poison. You can see it in these people and measure the kind of exposure they've had with money, the closer they've come to the world of organized luxury tourism, the more they realize others have something they don't. I'm not in a position to blame them. I only have to recall my time in Ban Lung in Cambodia, where an ATM machine gave me a hundred dollar bill, which is about the monthly wage of a local teacher, and I was waving it around like an idiot, looking for a place where I could get some change, to realize that these people have every right to want to do what I can do. I haven't worked a day in my life, while most these people break their backs so I can have a platter of rice every once and a while. I'm luxury tourism on a mindset of pushing myself to a limit or a realm of introspection.

Therefore there is little blame to be placed on the people here, although I can't approve of it either. There is a lot of respect to be had for people that know that they don't have what others have materially, but know as well that they have more socially or emotionally. These people I have met in rural Laos and Cambodia and these are encounters I will never forget. The tragic lies in the fact that they are losing their wealth due to peer pressure, due to deforestation or due to a hydroelectric dam, which is imposed on them as I'd impose doing homework to a hypothetical younger brother or, as what the US of A has been trying to do for years in promoting democracy in these regions:

"It's good for you in the long run."

The temptation of being rich gets old when you are rich, but you don't get to know that feeling once you've been rich. The race for wealth is turning these regions into a grotesque spectacle which is funny in a tragic way. You see it in the way people use plastic: throw it out into the street, it'll be out of sight in a day or two and afterwards it's 'gone'. Good luck on explaining to these people what the Pacific Garbage Patch looks like as explaining this to a 'well educated' European is hard enough by itself. Plastic is easy, cheap and has driven away local customs and crafts which were a lot more sustainable and beneficial for the community, but the fact that it's cheap and 'disposable' makes all the difference. Nobody cares where it comes from when it's easy.

You see it in the way they treat their forests: chop down the woods, make timber and use the land for cotton plantations or farming. Good luck on explaining to this people what primary forest is and why it'll never restore itself, to say nothing of carbon emissions. There's a bigger house, a chance for education or a new Lexus involved here.

Am I in a position to blame them? If I look at Belgium, an intricate web of traffic jams, stress and xenophobia, we haven't done much of a better job ourselves. The North Sea used to have bluefin tuna. We had wolves in our forests and just recently thousands of fish turned up dead in the river that flows a few kilometers from my doorstep thanks to 'some form of pollution'. Our beaches are more plastic than sand and a local bird species has an average of 42 pieces of plastic in its stomach.

It's probably no coincidence that the word culture has different meanings, going as far as calling a soup of bacteria 'a culture', so it is perhaps not the lack of it, just a shift in appropriate meaning. From a region that once was spilled over with cultural wealth, a stinking pile of crap remains (or will remain in a few years), driven by both an industry that relies on snapping cameras and the urge of wealthy foreign people wanting to boast to their friends that they've 'been there' and for Laos and Cambodia, a system of selling out your country by the few that would really like to export hydroelectric power to the Chinese, Thai or Vietnamese, so that they can buy that new Lexus to show to their friends. Face is everything, as it is for us Europeans, the corruption is just a bit less subtle around these parts, although Wall Street and the banking sector is giving these guys a run for their money.


Less Babies

Laos has 7 million inhabitants and is 7 times as big as Belgium.
Cambodia has 15 million inhabitants and is 6 times the size of Belgium.
Vietnam has 90 million inhabitants and is 11 times the size of Belgium.

If I would rate these three countries relating to hospitality, just start at the bottom and work your way up. Besides the already illustrated point of exposure to wealth of another part of the world, there is another issue to address:

Why do so many people here in Vietnam all  have the same job? Thousands upon thousands of motorcycle drivers harass you everywhere you go. As a tourist you're morally obliged not to walk, but sit on the back of a motorcycle and buy the driver some dinner by polluting the world just a bit more. The traffic is insane and a human life is worth about as much as a soldier bee in a beehive. The smallest villages I've been to practically had Vietnamese pouring out of them. In Vietnam, there are just too many people. As Cambodia and Laos are urging to catch up and play along on a global scale, they are reproducing like rabbits and are selling their country to the major players, hoping for a seat on the table of the global economy. But what example are they following? The 90 million Vietnamese? The 1,5 billion Chinese? Ours? Belgium has more than 10 million people, which makes it grotesquely overcrowded.

As a treehugger, I associated these parts of the world with tigers and rhinos. These animals are all but extinct, as is the Irriwady Dolphin in Cambodia and Laos, and dozens of monkey species and birds here in Vietnam. All there is to see in Vietnam is people, surrounding ever dwindling regions where these animals still live. There is not a single rhino still drawing breath on the mainland here in Vietnam and as I type this, the Vietnamese are plundering the environmental wealth its weaker brothers, Laos and Cambodia. I can imagine Belgium would have gone through a similar episode with it's natural wealth and although we never had tigers or primary forest. Although we had the lynx, for instance.

Every plan that is being conjured up by our genius politicians has to do with growth, growth and growth. Maybe it's time we stopped growing, looked around at the damage we've done so far and worry about what we're going to do about that. And let's make less babies because, as any economist will be glad to explain to you, the more of something you have, the less it's worth.

It's somewhat ironic that the fate of primary forest is in the hands of those that have the least. We all depend on what they do with it and they're just following our example of meeting the World Bank's standards by being 'economical'. We could tell them not to make our mistakes, retain the forest and the beauty that's in there and they would follow suit. Or Hell might freeze over...

Stand For Something Or Fall For Anything

If traveling has anything to do with staying true to yourself, I haven't been doing a very good job this past week. I just let myself get lead from one tourist trap to the other, intending to finishing it off in the mother of all tourist traps, Halong Bay. Recalling the conversation I had with a Cambodian girl in Sihanoukville about the ridiculously high pricetag of the severely polluted surroundings:

'Long after you're gone, other stupid tourists will come here and pay for it.'

Maybe it's long past time I stop being an idiot and have them shove their Heritage Sites up their asses until they treat it as such. Plus, I get to be that tourist that went to Vietnam without seeing Halong Bay in the process.

So be it, as the magic has long abandoned these lands.

Back To The Circus

Note:  The lack of sleep had the past 48 hours will be noticable in this post. So velly solly.

Crossing Borders

The past couple of days I've been on so many busses that I've spent more time being driven around than actually having my feet touch solid ground. I did spend a full day speaking 'French' in Oudomxay (rightfully the Lonely Planet's 'ugliest town in Laos'), got invited to a drinking game by six Lao women in Muan Khiaw (and informally got married to one of them, apparently) and got up at four o'clock to see a local market unfolding in Muan Sing at some point.

The trip out of Laos was interesting, as I needed to take a boat to cross the Nam Ou river before I could get on the bus to Dien Bien Phu in Vietnam. Most of  this all took place around  5 o'clock in the morning with only plastic bags, dogs and a family of pigs for company at the local pier.

The border crossing itself was completely hassle-free. No overcharging, no delays and only three people that were crossing into Vietnam. Wow.

Same, Same But Shut The Hell Up

After half a day of Dien Bien Phu. famous for the 1953 battle which was the beginning of the end for French Indochina, I hopped on a bus to Sapa. After a ten hour bus ride, I was dropped of at the local church at 4 am. During the trip the road conditions were very poor, a truck had driven itself into a ditch (nobody helped, we just had to wait until our driver got sick of waiting and forced his 15 tonne vehicle past the truck, flirting dangerously with a cliff in the process). This nighttime arrival in Sapa was unpleasant, but saved me the welcoming of a dozen Hmong tribeswomen, all wanting to show me their village, and the motorcycle drivers, all wanting me to supposedly get their kids through high school.

The Aunt Of All Tourist Traps

Sapa is a mess. Xe oms or motorcycle drivers are pushy as ever and guesthouses, restaurants, spas and hotels practically poke you in the face. A local 'village' right down the road from Sapa charges 2 dollars entry fee and is a long stretch of stores that pretty much all sell the same things (scarves, pipes, earrings, bracelets...). All the way down in the valley is a with plastic littered waterfall. The city itself is colorful and some of the buildings are nice. Hmong tribeswomen are everywhere, offering info, tours and things to sell, usually in that order. In the local tourist office, I met a Chinese and an Isreali woman, and spent most of the day with them exploring 'Cat Cat village' and sipping local apple juice.

The region is famous for its layered ricefields, spread over the slopes of the hills. So you have that, yes. I'm more a fan of old fashioned primairy rainforest, though. This time of year, a lot of things also seem to be on fire for some reason. Tomorrow I'll explore the local market and the days after that I'll be going a little further afield, depending on the weather.

Pictures unavailable thanks to same, same but different computers.

On a brighter note: At least it's cooler here.

Reporting In

A Post Of Few Words

If all goes well, I'll be in Vietnam once again tomorrow. After that I will be heading either east or north, depending on bus connections. If all keeps going well after that, I'll will have done both Sapa and Halong Bay before my flight home, so that 'some people' can get off my back about it. As you might have gathered, I'm less than enthusiastic about returning to Vietnam, so things can only be less bad than expected. In theory.

I've been spending most of the past week in a bus, zigzagging between Laos' severely damaged northern mountains and exploring some towns and villages. My feelings are mixed, thanks to "development" and huge garbage issues. It reminded me of everyone's favorite pirate captain answering his worst friend after he remarks that "The world has become a smaller place."

"No, there's just less in it."

The Lao up here are friendly as ever, so no complaints there. Given the fact that I'm now in a quite remote region and internet prices are astronomical, I'll leave it at that :).

Run To The Hills

Whelp, that looks nice.

More Time, Please

Boat heading north

With just two weeks left in Laos -sniff-, I decided to leave Luang Prabang early and got lucky getting my behind on a boat heading north. 

A seven hour boat ride took me and Anita, a 36-year old woman from Austria who's actually from Switzerland but also kind of from the US, from Luang Prabang to Nong Khiaw, a small town surrounded by karst mountains and the Nam Ou river. There we were greeted by dramatic scenery, cheap accommodation, great food and a working ATM, as the ones in fancy-pants Luang Prabang refused to give me any money. Taking my money was somewhat less of a problem, although I bargained hard for my precious little artifacts in the local night market, all of which hopefully make it home in one piece.

Boat not heading north

The Mist, without the interdimensional carnivores

From Nong Khiaw it went to Nong Khiaw Neua, an only reachable by boat kind of village that depends on generators to provide its power between 6 and 10 PM. There I was invited to a big party after buying a Lao phrasebook, as two of the villagers were going to celebrate the first month of their baby's life the following day by giving him a name and by getting everybody drunk. By the time I got there, and had said goodbye to Vietnam-bound Anita, most Lao were already speaking somewhat slurred and very loudly, so my visit was brief but powerful. I got there late because I trotted of following a sign that said 'minority village - 2 km'. I ended up never finding the village after walking for three hours, but I came across stunning views and a funny little checkpoint where I had to pay 10.000 kip. One of the highlights of this trip.

Scenic

Scouting Ahead

As I'm running around like a madman in order to see all I want to see up here, most impressions given are really brief as most visits are really brief. I intend on scouting the north of Laos for interesting spots because I'm positively sure I will return here one day if I can, with a budget (or an adventurous party) that will make the multiple day treks affordable.

The Road To Sam Neua

Duct tape to the rescue

Yesterday, a big crane was parked in the middle of the road, extending the bus ride from Nong Khiaw to Sam Neua from 11 hours to 14 hours. The 300+ km road is somewhat known among Lao as The Road Of A Thousand Turns, offering scenic views, one road villages and a lot of  let's-just-fall-asleep-in-the-middle-of-the-road cows. Unfortunately, this road is the stuff of nightmares for most Lao, as they seem as prone to carsickness as their Cambodian and Vietnamese counterparts. We arrived in the mist shrouded Sam Neua bus station around 2 am and I ended up sharing a room with a 38 year old Lao from Luang Prabang, who is here with five colleagues for additional schooling on something that is called the 'Poverty Reduction Fund', which sounds straightforward enough. The following needs to be mentioned: The last hour of driving through the hills was stunning with hills shrouded in mist and the clearest star-riddled sky I've ever seen. That alone was worth the fourteen hours of supporting sleeping Lao, passing out plastic bags for sick Lao and, last but not least, stopping in the middle of nowhere to do some exercise with Lao.

Sam Neua itself is peaceful, in-your-face Communist and uncomfortably close to Vietnam, which is tangible by the way people treat you, unfortunately. Though not all is bad, as the Lao people are still very friendly but yes, the neighbors to the east imported their grumpyness, staring habits and their grotesquely disgusting table manners. Can't wait to get back there next month. Ahem.

Sam Neua

Sam Neua is also famous for a cave system that was used by the now ruling party to hide from bombs and whatnot. Were it not so expensive and were it that I had more time in this country, I'd definetely go there.

Coming up tomorrow: the 11 to an infinite amount of hours on the bus back to Nong Khiaw.

Bring it.

Whoopsie Daisy

Breakdown In Paradise

The sleeperbus to Luang Prabang was the priciest yet, thanks to my own laziness. Picking up the habit of relaxing after arriving in oh so calm Vientiane, I decided to book my bus to Luang Prabang through the guesthouse. That cost me 20 euro's and as if karma had something to do with it, the 8 hour bus ride became a 20 hour journey thanks to the breaking down of the bus, leaving us stranded some 200 km from our destination. After some negotiating with another bus driver that happened to pass us by with an almost empty bus, we took the 5 euro per person deal and hopped on the far less luxurious, but far more functional alternative. Hours slept: 3.

This caught fire at some point

'We' at this point were about 17 falang, with nine of us ending up in the same guesthouse and having a small celebration in Luang Prabang.

Paradise City

Luang Prabang is a beautiful place. Some of the temples here are over 500 years old and for a culture nut as myself, there is plenty to see and to do. It remains to be seen for how long this place is going to be as laid back as it is, as a Chinese built railway connection is under construction and is expected to be finished in 2014. Not only will this connect Luang Prabang with the Hungry Dragon, but also with the capital Vientiane. The airport in Luang Prabang is being expanded and tuktuk drivers are already more pushy here than in the rest of the country.

Luang Prabang offers temples, stores, a night market, restaurants and so far, good company in the form of the previously mentioned nine people.

Having slept four hours last night because I wanted to see the monks at dawn here , my brain is doing overtime, so I'm just going to say: "Here are some pictures, enjoy." 

Nightmarket

Bartering with 12 year olds.

Depending on a plethora of factors, I might be catching the boat tomorrow up north. Anywhom, 'up north' is sort of less developed, so extended radio silence should not be unusual.

Laos remains more than just a little pleasant so far.

Khop Chai Lailai

I think I'm in love.

After three very hectic days that came after three very lazy days in Laos, I've arrived in the capital Vientiane, which seems about as crowded as my hometown on a sunday.

Tad Lo


After three days near the Mekong, I headed east of the river and into the Bolaven Plateau. There is so much to say about this place, that I'm not even going to bother trying to say everything. The small village of Tad Lo made a huge impression on me, not in small measure thanks to the fantastic Mr.Bah. He runs the Pamaly guesthouse, helps you get to the most interesting places, gets you a seat on the family's dinner table and above all is a very honest man.

On my first day there, he rented me a mountain bike, fit for a twelve year old. Needless to say, it was the best bike I've had on this trip so far. Sure, I didn't have that much room to maneuver but this thing had gears, so no real risk of breaking my chain again on one of the numerous slopes.

Kind of funny

I went to a waterfall called Tat Suong, which is subjugated to the will of a local hydroelectric dam as to just how much water flows over the edge. When I arrived there, I could walk (read :climb, fall, slip) all the way up to the point where the water crashed into the jagged rocks below. There I met a french couple and some local kids who were heading for the pools that are formed by the waterfall, to take a swim.


I'm a really bad estimator, so estimating that this thing was about 125 meters high could be way of the mark. Then we'll just stick to the fact that it felt huge and threatening.

Near the waterfall is a village that looks like the set of 'the Others' Village' from Lost. The retro-seventies design didn't turn out to be retro at all, as the hydroelectric dam that gave birth to the place was built there about 35 years ago, sending power to Thailand, China or Vietnam. The employers live in the village, behind a wall and a spiked fence. Jolly.

Then came day two, where Mr.Bah sent me off and I went to a local minority village. Here there was no power and more than half of the villagers didn't even speak Lao, as they never went to school. The local school is about 30 years old and when I went to take a look, the teacher came out and ran a big bell. Out came kids running, yelling 'Falang!' (Foreigner!) and 'Sabaidy!' (Hello). Before I could make my mind up on whether to turn around and walk away, I was literally surrounded by 4 to 13 -year olds who formed up a circle around me and fell pretty much silent. When I moved closer to the boys and girls in front of me, they walked backwards while the ones in front of me followed me.

Then I decided to show them my camera, and as half expected, some of the kids ran away screaming. A camera is a curious thing around these parts, as some minorities are known to suspect that they lose their soul when a picture is taken. It wasn't complete pandemonium though, as the screaming kids just went to stand behind me, while some brave souls stood defiantly and went on to encourage me to to take a picture. I took a few and showed the results to them, which 'drew a few laughs from the crowd' as they say.

'Go ahead, make my day'

Then, walking back through the amazing scenery , I noticed that the Tat Suong waterfall was in 'full force'. Overnight the electric company had decided to let it flow again for a little while. When I asked Mr.Bah about this, he said 'Well, I sure hope nobody tried to camp near the waterfall last night.'. Dry.

Scenery

Night At The Busstation

 Ok, so I spent a night in a bus station. The bus from Tad Lo arrived in Tah Keak at about 01:20 AM and the bus to Vieng Khem left at 05:30 AM. This, and the fact that the nearest guesthouse was a comfy 5 km away, had me deciding on staying the remaining hours on the well lit and surprisingly crowded bus station. I ended up talking to a guy from Lao and two guys from Vietnam, where my Vietnamese phrasebook saved the night.

Kong Lo

That morning, I was off to Kong Lo Cave. A cave that is about 6 and a half kilometers long, crossable on boat only. Seeing the daylight disappearing in the distance and floating through parts of the cave that are over 100 meters high are awe and/or shock inspiring. I had a headlight, a Petzl  (you know, those good ones) and not being able to see the ceiling is somewhat concerning. Think Mines of Moria with water but without Gandalf's staff, and you're good. Think Pitch Black or Doom 3 and you're pretty much looking over your shoulder all the time.

'Aw crap, we still need to go back!'

Bus rides, More Bus rides!

Having skipped a night of sleep had me craving for one of the super comfortable sleeper buses which Laos, like Vietnam, has to offer. What I got, was an 8-hour bus ride in the most rundown bus I've ever sat in. The seats were either broken, almost broken or just not there. The bus driver drove extremely carefully (take notes Vietnam), which got us to Vientiane safely, but it took us a while to get there...

Good thing I didn't take a picture of the hole in the ceiling.

In Vientiane it was 2 am, again. But this time I got myself to a guesthouse, with the help of (another) friendly Laotian that unfortunately kept on taking the wrong turns, even after asking for directions. After an hour of seeing everything nightly Vientiane has to offer - ten cars, four motorcycles and a bus -, I finally ended up where I wanted to go and had the best night's sleep in ages.

Vientiane

This town is quiet for a capital, thus is scoring big points for me. Another highlight of this trip is the COPE organisation, It has a small museum dedicated to the UXO (unexploded ordinance) problem Laos faces thanks to American bombings during the Vietnam war, who were 'never there' in the first place. To this day, Laos remains the most bombed country in the world and every year about 300 people lose their lives to a war they had nothing to do with. The stories told there are moving to say the least and the staff is very friendly, some of them have fallen victim to UXO's themselves. They were screening a documetary called 'Bomb Harvest', which, without a shadow of doubt, you should see if you can.

Subtelty Doesn't Get You Extra Credit

And Everything Was Going So Well...

I left Kratie in the most uncomfortable seat available in the minivan: the backseat, next to the rear speakers of the van while the most horrendous local karaoke music tore my eardrums apart. It helped a little that I had barely slept the previous night so that I was barely conscious most of the way.

After a couple of hours of semi torment, we had to trade our minivan for a coach. This provided more comfort, but also some discomfort in the form of a young Cambodian that would "fix" our Lao visas at the border for a friendly 40 dollars, except for me, I'd have to pay 50 dollars for overstaying my visa two days and got a rebuke for 'losing' my departure card that had been in my passport earlier but was torn out by a hotel employee in Phnom Penh. For the record: the fine for overstaying is 5 dollars a day, so no problems there.

The "problem there" was one: Lao visas cost anywhere between 30 and 42 dollars, depending on your nationality. Not having met any Belgians that had done this crossing recently, none of us - three Belgians present in the bus - knew how much exactly we'd have to pay. Same went for a Hungarian couple, a guy from Japan and two guys from the Netherlands. There were two Britons with us as well, but they had arranged their visa in Phnom Penh.  Two: that this guy, fluent in english, japanese, french and khmer was a little too smooth of a personality, who had claimed our bus tickets in exchange for 'the real bus tickets' we were going to need once we got to the Lao side of the border. Important detail: everyone had gotten their bus tickets but me. Three: the two other Belgians didn't bring enough money, as they were counting on a 32 dollar visa. At this point the Hungarians had decided to do the border crossing themselves, the rest of us were in doubt but had given our passports to the man already.

After some arguing amongst barang (foreigners) and basic mathematics, we realized this wasn't going to work, neither financially nor emotionally, as we all agreed on the fact that our smooth Cambodian friend was a bit of a douchebag, looking to make some money on the side. Thus we arrived at the following solution: We get our passports back.

The honor was all mine to ask them back, which I did. This made our Khmer friend somewhat nervous, up to the point that he didn't want to give me 'the real bus ticket'. I asked about three times, politely, doing my very best not to lose my temper. Then when he still refused, I took his packet of pink paper slips, ready to tear one off and to make my own 'real bus ticket'. This almost sent the kind man overboard as he started yelling and making vague threats about hitting me. I then kindly asked my old ticket back, which he gave me, assuring me it was worthless anyway.

By now the bus had stopped at the border, we got out of the bus and queued for the border crossing. Now he was venting all his verbal fury on me, screaming that he'd have me arrested, that I was in his country illegally and that I'd never leave Cambodia because I had lost my departure card. He walked up to one of the guys in suits, started yelling at him, pointing enthusiastically in my direction. This man looked in my direction, grabbed his smartphone (!!) and went aside to make a phone call.

Admittedly, I was sure I was screwed at this point. I asked the Belgians for a cellphone and braced myself for whatever the Cambodians would throw in my direction. I had the number of our embassy in one hand, hoping to use it as leverage, and my wallet in the other, in case the locals were unimpressed with the threat of the surprised voice of an aide to an ambassador and I'd have to buy myself some loyalty.

Awaiting a response from the man with the smartphone, I just kept on progressing in the queue, slowly working my way to immigration. Then I arrived there, was asked to pay a ten dollar fine for the overstay, got a new departure ticket, had to pay 2 dollar 'processing fee' and before I could say: 'Whoopsydaisy' I was standing in the no man's land between Cambodia and Laos with a stamped passport. Looking around, I couldn't find Mr. Smooth Operator, nor the immigration officer with the smartphone. I decided not to give it too much thought, turned around and headed for Lao immigration.

There we were charged 2 dollars 'processing fee' and 36 for the visa. Attentive readers and mathematical prodigies will have noticed that the amount paid by doing it ourselves equals the amount we'd have to pay the Cambodian, only if he didn't come up with some last minute additional fees, which I can't say he would have. Not so much for the Hungarians, their visa was 31 dollars, so they got off cheaper.

Then it was on to the minibus and boat to Don Det, where it became apparent that I wasn't out of the woods yet. When we had to board the boat, one bright young Laotian noticed that my ticket looked completely different from the others (big white sheet with ugly handwriting compared to a pink printed slip). He decided not to give me the blue slip I needed to get on the boat and went on telling that to his colleague, the captain. Lucky for me, there was an elderly man sitting behind the counter who already had a blue slip in his hand and had intended to give it to me, before his junior colleague stopped him. By now my shoulder was sticking to the ticket booth with my arm reaching for the hand of the elderly man. He looked up, smiled and passed me the ticket. I lipped a 'thank you' and he sent me on my way nodding approvingly. I moved to the pier, gave 'the captain' the blue slip and I was allowed on the boat, leaving the attentive young Laotian somewhat grumpy towards me and his senior colleague.

15 Minutes later I arrived in Don Det, where I barely moved for three days and spent most of the time in a hammock, looking on as the great Mekong river flowed by.

The Irrawaddy Dolphin

 Before leaving Kratie, two Belgian girls (the same ones that ended up on the bus with me) offered me the opportunity to see the world's most endangered freshwater dolphin. These dolphins live in small pods, the one in Kratie has about 50-ish members. There is a video, which you will all see later, where they are somewhat visible :).

Laos and blogging is going to be somewhat challenging, to say nothing of photos and videos. But I try.

The Geek Of The Wild

The eye of the beholder

Geeking Out

'Holy shit!'

The very first words that Jack Highwood - conservationist, elephant expert, geek  - ever said to me, while I was holding four dollars' worth of bananas. To be honest, he wasn't exactly what I expected of him either: this savior of elephants is about as tall as I am, a little skinnier around the shoulders, balding but with plenty of facial hair, has somewhat of a beer belly and bright twinkling blue eyes you'd rather attribute to, I don't know, someone else...

He drove me and about 7 other people to his Elephant Valley Project, gave us a brief explanation on what was going to happen in the following hours and shared his dream of building a gigantic reception building. Two days and a lot of geekisms later, he informed me that he would want it in the shape of the Jurassic Park gate, with the torches and everything.

Down we went, sliding our way down the muddy path to Elephant Heaven, which is ironically pretty much the lowest point in the sanctuary. There we were greeted by four elephants and their mahouts, who were throwing buckets of water at them.A few minutes later the bananas I brought came in handy, as we offered them to the elephants, their trunks inquisitively sniffing and curling around our arms and hands. Needless to say this is something I had never done before, and probably will never do again, unless I go back there.

Mister Highwood

We followed the elephants to another part of the sanctuary, with Jack carrying around a eight and a half year old girl named Logan.

'I feel like Hodor, Game Of Thrones, anyone?'

Jaw, meet jungle dirt.

The biggest shock was yet to come though and came by way of him asking me if I played any MMO's. 'Sure' I said, 'I've played World Of Warcraft for four years.'

'But' said he, 'World of Warcraft is for babies... Eve Online, now that's for geeks.'

Eve, for the unknowing, is a Massive Mulitplayer Online RolePlaying  Space Game (MMORPSG, if you will), which has about 600,000 subscribers, where you conquer the universe by forming alliances, betraying some people and getting shot at all the time . I had never played it and had never even met anyone that played it, but there, somewhere between me and four full grown female elephants in the middle of Cambodian jungle, stood the first Eve Online player I had ever seen and he convinced me to give it a shot when I went back home. And we yet had to bring Wing Commander memories to the table. ('They just don't make games like that anymore...')

'Clever girl'

More On The Quadrupeds, Please

There are twelve elephants at the sanctuary and one of them is male. His name is Bob and he is somewhat of an angry elephant. In comes Union, a girl elephant that can't seem to get enough of Bob. Hopes are that they make the first Elephant Valley baby and that Jack gets to call it Shotgun.

The rest are females, ranging from young ones to old ones (over 60 years old!), nice ones to troubled ones and skinny ones to fat ones.

'Move it or lose it'

During my stay, I went to Elephant Heaven twice, went to a washing station and washed elephants with a hose, hosing water in their trunks so they could spray their mouths full. I've walked next to them, got out of their way, stood in their dung and patted some of them on the forehead. I jinxed a generator and carried pieces of banana tree up a hill so that elephants could stand on them and eat the good parts. I've helped planting mango and avocado trees, got blisters on my hands and walked around the place smelling like a million bucks. I met very interesting people, some irritating ones as well, and had a very good time staying there. If you haven't figured it out just yet: this place is a must-see, must-do and a must-experience kind of place.


Thank you Jack, for making me feel old, young, useful, useless, hopeful, excited and smelly all at the same time.

Someone get this guy a medal and a blank cheque.

They are there as well

Ignorance Is Bliss

For the first time since leaving home, I really don't know where to start, what to say and maybe most important: what not no say.

Two Nights, Three Days

I made it into the jungle. That alone made the journey north to the Ratanakiri Province a succes. I swam in a waterfall, crossed streams fully clothed, rode a boat, swam in a river, met local tribes, accidently smacked the guide walking behind me with a branch, slept in a hammock and as final highlight: took a dump in the woods. What more is there to crave? The company was two guides strong and three people from Germany, one from Canada, one from Norway and myself. Enjoy these pictures of Ratanakiri, more will be added later. You can also go to https://www.dropbox.com/sh/wzib8aol4fsa6jm/arXvRL4i4v?m and acces the Banlung folder.

The squad

Our guide Bouny

Tribal youngster

Visiting a derelict school

Epic

Packing up

Little else needs to be said about the woods. A lot more can be said about loggers, threats, murders, bribes, drugs, rubber, camps, political oppression and a hydroelectic dam but I'm going to decide against putting it in this blog right now> The contents are dark and heavy and because most of it is still fresh in my mind, I can't manage digesting the information right now. Hence there is little point for me to write about it but this:

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

Again.

Cold Turkey

Hi there,

Short note on this blog. After getting lucky and some moving around in my schedule, I'll be leaving for a three day trek through the critically threatened Ratanakiri forest in the morning. After that it's hauling ass to the Mondulkiri Elephant Valley Project, so expect a full week of blogging silence.

A deep, relieving sigh isn't entirely inappropriate.

As an extra: three videos recorded in a local boxingclub yesterday

Abandon All Hope

Arrival in Ban Lung

Spiders in a bucket. Will be fried and sold for consumption.

After ten hours in a bus, seeing Fast Five in Khmer and Apocalypto - what a movie! -  in Mayan, being offered spiders as a snack (didn't do it) and bumping into Matteo again in Phnom Penh, the reception at the 'new' Ban Lung bus station was heartwarming. By heartwarming, I mean the blood boiling, headache inducing kind of reception that makes you squeeze your hands into fists so hard your knuckles turn white.

As the bus station is new, it wasn't on any of our maps, but it didn't take a genius to figure out we were not in Ban Lung itself. This pretty much ruled out walking the way to the village and bypassing the motorcyclists and tuktuks. After a lot of no thank you's and waving of hands, I got into a tuktuk with three backpackers I'd never seen before and was taken to some guesthouse which payed the tuktukdriver a commission to get us there. After the usual formalities of looking at a room and haggling for a price, I turned around and set out for the Tree Top Lodge.

That took me straight through Ban Lung, grumpy and belligerent as ever, but in the end I ended up at the right place.

A gift from the US of A, this one actually exploded

DutchCo

Logging

Having settled in Ban Lung, I went looking for Rik's Café. From there, a Dutch guy organizes highly reputable trekking tours throughout the region. Out here, you can't really do proper treks on your own and it's low season, so I was going to need some luck if I were to do a trek around here. There, I heard that there might be a possibility that I could join a trek two days later. Rik was honest about the whole thing, telling me I shouldn't get my hopes up.

Anyway, I spent some time talking to this Dutchman, as I was curious to know why he was here, what he thought of CBET's, the current state of Cambodia and what the future had in for him. This is one of those times where I don't say much about it and tell you to read my book when I finish it, if it gets written, as what he, and a lot of other people, had to say was quite shocking.

The end of touristic Cambodia in a nutshell, although it needs a dollar bill to finish it off.

Having to wait two days for word if I can go trekking or not, I needed some entertainment. This was provided in bigger quantity than I bargained for.

Cho Ang Waterfall

Road

Renting bikes, the easiest thing ever. Tree Top lent me one for a dollar a day and I set out for the Chu Ang Waterfall, supposedly the most spectacular of  three present in the area. Thanks to Rik from DutchCo, I didn't miss the road that leads to the waterfall which was tucked away behind a gas station. Roughly thirty seconds after a gentle turn to the right I was sprawled out on the dirt road, with my bicycle rolling down the hill without me. Right, wet season! The dirt road was hard and slippery and was kind enough to provide me with the bruises on my butt to prove it.

Onwards it went, coming across a lot of logged forest, a village and a couple of pigs. The entrance was guarded by a girl in a hammock, I paid the 2000 riels and went inside.

Also present in Cambodia: idiots

Now, the rest of the experience through video footage.

Trying to film something ridiculous

Nighttime Visitor

Suspenseful music to be added later.

Boek Laeng Yaom Lake

The lake

The next day, I took another bike to Boek Laeng Yaom Lake. This volcanic lake is supposedly one of the biggest attractions Cambodia has to offer. Expectations were high, so was the entry ticket (1,75 dollars for foreigners on a bicycle, 0,125 dollars for locals). 

I'm a spoiled brat, that must be it. When I laid my eyes on this lake, I immediately thought of the Plitvice Lakes in Croatia. Back in the day, I was an intolerable kid that complained all the time about everything, giving my parents a hard time for dragging me to yet another place in another country I could give a damn about. One of those trips led to Croatia and eventually these lakes and waterfalls. Well, that place blows this place out of the water. They have more trash laying around here, though. Garbage bins are everywhere. These are practically empty as the plastic and garbage is slowly becoming a part of the walking path.

It's so tragic it's funny.

Millipede?

Grasshopper

Two Days Later

Two days after I started writing this post, it has become apparent that I can't go trekking with DutchCo, which is the first real downer of this trip. 39 Days of being here, you could say I was due for a setback. Today I will explore some alternatives, do the math on my budget and for the first time since Angkor, do a genuine attempt to relax, as I'm starting to feel the strain of being up and about all the time. It's also time to let all the information I've gathered over the past few weeks sink in, as there is a lot more to Cambodia than meets the eye. And almost none of it is good.