The Baster Incident

I was in the middle of roasting an entire chicken when I realized that I needed a baster. I had tried to scoop up the juices from the bottom of the roasting pan with a spoon and drizzle them back over the chicken to no avail, so I had to turn off the oven and head to the Japan Store in search of a baster. The Japan Home Goods Store is a bit like Big Lots, they have a lot of crap but in seasonal supply, meaning you never know if you will find what you are looking for. I scoured the kitchenware aisle and couldn't find a baster, so I asked the lady at the counter if they had any in stock. This is how the conversation went:

Me: Excuse me, do you have a baster?

Lady: (blank stare)

Me: You know, for basting a turkey or a chicken?

Lady: (blank stare)

Me (light bulb going off on top of my head, rummaging around in my bag for a scrap piece of paper and pen): Here, I'll draw it for you.

Lady (making basting action): Ahhhhhh!!!! (Something in Chinese)



Me: YES!! (I then proceed to make the aforementioned basting action, complete with slurping noises, making a complete fool out of myself) That's it!! Do you have?



Lady: No, out of stock.



Me: Of course you are.

Undeterred, I went to the grocery store where I knew they had a limited selection of kitchen utensils. I was also unable to find a baster but I did happen to find something that I thought would do the trick.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of how I came to use a balloon inflater (which came with a set of 20 long balloons and instructions on how to make a balloon poodle) to baste a roasted chicken. And boy, was it good!

My Parents Are Coming! My Parents Are Coming!

Like Paul Revere with his prophetic warning, I feel the urgent need to hop on horseback shouting down the sidewalks of Hong Kong.

Shopkeepers: bring out your finest merchandise and get your haggling calculators ready because my mom is coming with not 1 but 2 empty suitcases!

Museum Curators: dust off your finest collections and disinfect the earphones of your English language audio tour guides for my father's thirst for knowledge can never be satiated!

And God save us, Marc and Brina, the hosts and tour guides for these 2 Puerto Ricans who have never been to Asia.

Hong Kong -- Watch Out!

Seen on the Street

Old man wearing a shirt with large bold print that says: "Sex Instructor: First Lesson Free"

Little old Chinese woman wearing a shirt that says in blurry writing: "I'm not as think as you stoned I am"

Profound Thought of the Day

I could never be a taxi cab driver because someone would get in my taxi, tell me where to go and I would start driving in that general direction. Then, I would invariably start thinking about what I needed to get at the grocery store and then a really good song would come on the radio and I'd turn it up and start dancing in my seat. I'd get so lost in my trance that I'd forget someone is in my back seat and I'd end up driving all over Hong Kong until I realized they were still there. Then, I'd have to ask them where they wanted to go again.

Good thing I'm not a taxi cab driver.

Go Slumdog Millionaire!

Razzle Dazzle Oscars!

Don't worry folks, I haven't forgotten about you. I just had to steal the Australia pictures from Marc who has been hoarding them on his computer. Alas, I just finished downloading them and have started my next blog post.

Just wanted to let you know that I am gearing up for an Oscar party tomorrow morning... yes, you read correctly, it's tomorrow morning. Because we are 16 hours ahead of Los Angeles, the Oscars will be transmitted live here at 9am. So, I'm off to a British friend's house to have an "American breakfast" and watch the Oscars. I asked him what an American breakfast was and he said bagels, cream cheese, eggs, bacon and the like. I told him I'd bring the mimosas. We're even filling out ballots to vote on who we think will win. The dress code is "Oscar-esque" so I'm dressing up like Freida Pinto from the last scene of Slumdog Millionaire. I might even break out into a Bollywood dance... if I have enough mimosas, that is.

(Knock, Knock) Housekeeping!

Hello My Loyal Fan,

As you may have noticed (unless you are blind) there have been some changes around these parts. I'm doing a bit of spring cleaning and decided to spruce things up a bit, especially in light of the fact that I have totally neglected by blog-keeping duties.

You may notice that I have added a new section on some of the posts. I am a firm believer that, no matter what country you are in, you should always know how to say "hello" and "thank you" in the local language. It is a matter of being polite since most of the places we go, the locals know enough English to help us get by. I've noticed it never fails to put a smile on a local's face to hear you trying your best to speak their language. And if that smile happens to be on the face of a person I am bargaining with at a market, then it certainly can't hurt the negotiation process. Therefore, I have added a legend at the beginning of the first post for each trip that includes the place, language and how to say "hello" and "thank you." It may not mean much now, but if you ever find yourself in these places, you'll thank me later.

Also, I hope the new colors and template are pleasing to your eyes and will encourage you to visit on a regular basis. I, in turn, will be posting new blogs with greater frequency than once every 2 months. We don't have any trips planned so I have no excuse not to keep you abreast of what is going on over here on the other side of the planet. However, instead of posting chronologically about our trips (many which have long since passed), I will write about our more recent trips. This will ensure fresher memories and wittier commentary than if I have to make my way through the cobwebs of my mind to remember where we went in June. Maybe one day I'll get to what happened this summer but honestly, I think the humidity really affected my brain cells so it may never happen.

Now that I have set more realistic expectations, I hope you will enjoy our latest adventures!

Love,

Brina

Because the Chinese Government Says So

As I've mentioned before, most Asians have absolutely no fashion sense. Or else they *think* they do, but they are sorely mistaken. Take this girl for instance:

This unfortunate fashion victim woke up one morning and thought to herself, "Hmmmm... what shall I wear today? Oooooo, I have that cute orange tent that I can wear as a shirt. I bet it will go really well with a pair of black cropped leggings, but what if I get cold? Then, I must wear black fishnet stockings too. Oh, and my brown boots with rhinestones. I'll just crimp the back of my hair and flat-iron my bangs since I can't figure out what hair tool I want to use today. Now, that will look HOT!"

She must not have gotten the memo. "What memo?" you say. I thought you'd never ask.

In light of the upcoming (at the time) Olympics, the Chinese government in its infinite wisdom, prepared a pamphlet for helping Chinese deal with foreigners. It was a thick booklet on things from etiquette to helping disabled guests to fashion tips. Common-sense things like "Don't spit" and "Don't stare at disabled people or say things like 'cripple' or 'lame' even if you are joking" were painstakingly listed. The best, though, was the fashion section. It said, in part:

• Never wear more than three colors at the same time.
• No white socks with black shoes.
• Don't wear pyjamas when visiting neighbors (apparently many elderly Chinese do this).
• Men should "refrain from helping women carry their handbags."

Seriously, a nation of 1 billion people received these thoughtful tips. You'd think for all the money they spent printing those things, they would actually clean the air.

Alas I digress. Last time we met, I told you about our Great Wall adventure. Hiking 10 kilometers on the Great Wall has got to be the coolest thing I have ever done, hands down. I may have b*tched and moaned about 75% of the time but I did it and I loved it. I felt such a sense of accomplishment when we finished that I just wanted to keep going. So, our driver drove us back into town and dropped us off at the Temple of Heaven.

For those of you who watched the Olympics, you may remember that the marathon path passed by many of Beijings historic landmarks like Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City and even the Great Wall. A lesser known landmark also en route was the Temple of Heaven which sits in the southeast corner of the city. We had arrived late in the day so the buildings were closed but we were able to take pictures and walk through the 267-hectare park. The temple itself is a perfect example of Ming design and it originally served as "a stage for solemn rites performed by the Son of Heaven, who prayed here for good harvests, and sought divine clearance and atonement for the sins of the people," according to Lonely Planet. We didn't see any elaborate rites being performed but we did note the architecture of odd numbered round tiers which supposedly represent heaven. All this math (and the back-breaking hike) was making my head hurt, so we headed back to the good old Holiday Inn for a well-deserved meal.

You can't go to Beijing without partaking in the local delicacy of Peking Duck. By the way, Peking is the old-school way of saying Beijing and many older Chinese still call it Peking. As they say in China, it is "same same." After washing the day's (and thousands of years' old rubble) away, we rushed back downstairs to see where Storm had arranged for us to feast.

Also waiting downstairs (yes, we were late, surprise, surprise) was an American brother-sister couple who were going to the same duck joint. The brother is one of America's finest serving in Korea and his sister had come to visit him from the States. They found themselves with an empty weekend and decided to pop over to Beijing to see the sights. We made fast friends with them and ended up having dinner together.

We rode together in a taxi and had to laugh when we realized that we were no longer on a major road but instead were being led into a hutong alley with only painted ducks on the wall to lead the way.

At the end of the alley, a large group of locals were waiting outside for a table. "This place *must* be good if all these people are lining up to eat here," I remarked. And, as always, I was not disappointed.

The Li Qun Roast Duck Restaurant isn't listed in any guidebook and it doesn't even really have a sign, just a few words scrawled on a brick wall indicating they "Welcome Overseas Guests Enjoying Traditional Cuisine in Old Chinese Courtyard." Pictures of celebrities from foreign heads of state to Al Gore lined the walls but the main attraction was the brick oven roasting our delicious long-necked friends.

That night we feasted on local beer, melt-in-your-mouth duck, fluffy pancakes, tarot root and steamed vegetables until we were too stuffed to move. So, imagine our surprise when, as we were finishing our meal, Storm showed up. Let me repeat: Our #1 Beijing Concierge SHOWED UP to the duck restaurant to make sure we had a good meal! It was 9pm people and he had been at work for 15 hours prior. We even asked him if he lived close by, to which he replied simply, "No." He had come to check on us and to get some duck bones for his dog. The man is amazing.

After a full night's sleep caused by a duck-induced coma, we awoke to our last day. After everything we had already done in 2 days, it must be hard to imagine what else was on our to-do list but alas we still had the Summer Palace and the Olympic buildings to see before our late afternoon flight.

The Summer Palace is 12 km out of the city and realistically should be considered a day trip. We had a few hours. In the spirit of National Lampoon's European Vacation ("Look kids, there's Buddhist Fragrance Pavilion and the Hall of Benevolence and Longevity!"), we sped through the immense 3 square kilometers of grounds, including the massive Kunmin Lake, that Chinese Emperors called home during the sweltering summer months. While Chinese families lazily picnicked on the lawns or paddle-boated on the lake, we ran from one important building to another, snapping pic's of Buddhas and beautiful architecture. OK, ok, you got me, they were taking pictures too.

The Summer Palace was decidedly cooler than in the city, so I could see why royalty took refuge here especially before the advent of air conditioning!

The one thing that really confused me was the Marble Boat at the north end of the lake. It doesn't move yet it doesn't sink. How does it do that!?!?!?

Finally, on our way to the airport, our driver (arranged by who else? Storm) drove us past the Olympic buildings. We weren't allowed in but we still managed to snap a few pictures of Birds Nest Stadium and the Water Cube. Our short but jam-packed trip was over and not a moment too soon. After a weekend of breathing Beijing's brownish-yellow haze, I stepped off the plane and took a long deep breath of Honky Town's hazy, cigarette-smoke and moth-ball scented air and declared "Hallelujah, I can breathe!"

They Don't Call it The Great Wall for Nothing

I used to have this comfy old t-shirt that said "I hiked, I complained, I nearly passed out, and I barely made it out of the Grand Canyon!" The edges of the sleeves were tattered and the fabric soft with frequent use over a span of 10 years. However, it was a complete lie. I did not, in fact, hike the Grand Canyon. If my recollection serves me correctly, my father drove our rental car to the rim and we walked a nice paved path alongside the rim for about an hour while simultaneously discussing my theory that the Grand Canyon is merely a fancy backdrop created by the Kodak Corporation to get unsuspecting tourists to snap hundreds of pictures on Kodak film.

So, when I chose option (c) of our trusty concierge Storm's suggestions for tackling the Great Wall, I was completely unprepared. The 10 kilometer (6.2 mile) hike from Jinshanling to Simatai nearly killed me but I was egged on by Mao's famous quote:

"He who has not climbed the Great Wall is not a true man."

Humph, well, I'll show you Mr. Zedong.

Construction on the "original" wall commenced during the Qin dynasty (221-207 BC). It was built to keep out marauding nomads from what is now Beijing. Little remains of that first wall, but during the Ming dynasty, construction began again. The current wall is comprised of several walls built during and subsequent to that time. Depending on what you read, the Great Wall is somewhere between 5,000 km (3,106 miles) to 6,700 km (4,160 miles) long. You would think that measuring a wall would be an elementary task. However, since the wall was built in so many sections and there are portions that finger out from the main structure, the people who have enough time to walk out the whole thing with a yardstick disagree on what sections to include in the calculation.

What gets me is that people over 2,200 years ago, using rudimentary tools, carried (or more likely got large animals to carry) giant boulders up to the tops of mountains for a big fence to keep out some pesky Mongolians! How many Mongolians could there have been back then? Was it really such a problem? I mean, today China has over 1 billion people living in obscenely cramped quarters with no regard for personal space whatsoever. What's a few thousand rowdy nomads going to hurt? Personally, I think they would spice things up a bit!

Our first view of the Great Wall did not disappoint. The majestic beast rose before us, snaking up and down the mountain ridge, interspersed with watchtowers at random and infrequent intervals. Seeing the Great Wall was a lifelong dream of mine and, to be honest, before we moved here, I never thought my dream would be fulfilled. But here I was, facing this formidable opponent and all I would do was stare in awe.

The section where we started our hike was a 3 hour's drive away from Beijing, so we had woken up at 6am to start our hike at 9am. For those of you who know me even just a little bit, you know it must have been something special if I voluntarily woke up at that ungodly hour!

When we got there, the air was clear and crisp although it would get unbearably hot as we made our 4 hour trek to Simatai. We walked over parts of the wall that had obviously been restored, as well as crumbling piles of rock that could barely be called a "wall."

We climbed clumsily over steep parts, sauntered along flat parts, and cautiously descended vertigo-inducing stairs, all the while soaking up the magnificent vistas. I must have perspired half my weight in sweat that day but all I had to do was look around and that was motivation enough to keep going.

All along the way, 80-year old Chinese grandmothers and grandfathers would pester us to buy cold water, soda or beer (seriously, beer in the middle of a searing hot June day?) and I would wonder how they did it day after day. I guess that is how the Chinese live so long - doing things like hiking the Great Wall everyday!

In the middle of our hike, Marc needed to take a break. Thank God we had the foresight to bring toilet paper!

After 4 hours, 10 km, 528 pictures and 6 bottles of water, we finally made it to Simatai. I was happy to be there but sad that our once-in-a-lifetime journey had come to an end. Fortunately, the enterprising folks at Simatai had a surprise waiting for me. For just a few US dollars, we rode the Flying Fox down to the parking lot where our driver was waiting to take us to the nearest hospital, I mean our hotel.

P.S. If anyone knows where I can find an "I hiked, I complained, I nearly passed out, and I barely made it off the Great Wall!" t-shirt, let me know.

P.P.S. Don't worry Moms, Marc did not defecate on the Great Wall of China.

Taking Beijing by Storm

Place: Beijing, China

Language: Mandarin Chinese

Hello: Nĭ hău (knee how)

Thank you: Xièxie (shie shie)

People often ask us how we do it, all the traveling I mean. One guy in particular that Marc works with, although a seasoned traveler himself, is always astounded at the seemingly remote places that we travel to and the fantastic hotels that we stay at. To be fair, this particular gentleman only travels to places where there is a Four Seasons hotel, so his list of places to go is relatively limited. Marc and I, on the other hand, shy away from places like the Four Seasons or the Ritz Carlton unless it is an extremely good deal.

But that still doesn't explain how we choose where to go and where to stay. So here is the deal - we have a list. It may not be written down and it is in constant flux but generally, we know that during our time here, we want to travel to certain places. A few weeks or months before the next holiday, we decide which travel destination is the best for that particular time frame. If it is a 3 day weekend, we pick a place close by; if it is a week long holiday, we pick some place a bit further or perhaps a few different places but all within the same country. We also make sure that the time of year we are going is going to work, for example, we don't go diving on the west coast of Thailand when it is monsoon season and there is a possibility of tsunamis. Then Marc gets to work on the flights. This is an extremely long process whereby he finds out every single permutation and combination of flight(s), times and price. If the best flight based on times and prices is also on an airline partner for our airline miles, we've struck gold.

Next up, we study our guidebook on said travel destination. We are die hard Lonely Planet fanatics, and right now I count 10 Lonely Planet guidebooks on our bookshelves, plus the very important 1,000 Places to See Before You Die and a few other random travel books. We, and by "we" I really mean "I", study the maps and get the lay of the land to figure out what is the best area of town to stay.

Then, and this is probably the most important part so listen up, er... I mean pay attention, we go to Tripadvisor. I enter the name of the place, say Bangkok, Thailand, and click on hotels. The best part of Tripadvisor is that you can check out the hotels in order of popularity based on reviews. Real actual living travelers that have stayed at these places come back to this website to rate the hotel, write little snippets about their experience and post real-life pictures (not like the airbrushed marketing pictures from the hotel website). In all of our traveling (and Marc's traveling before he met me since he is the one who started me on Tripadvisor), we have NEVER gone wrong with the top 5 hotel listings. In fact, we have been so blown away that we no longer pay attention to other people's suggestions for where to stay, our travel agent's "good deals" on places to stay or even what Lonely Planet says about lodging. We simply go to Tripadvisor and pick one of the top hotels based on the ratings and price. Most people love a good deal, so often we find neat boutique hotels with great service for $60-100/night! So, really we're not travel geniuses, we just rely on the great invention Mr. Internets.

Why, pray tell, am I divulging all our travel secrets now you ask? Because I cannot fully explain our time in Beijing without giving credit to Storm. No, not a storm like water falling from the sky, but Storm, our #1 hotel concierge at the Holiday Inn in Beijing. I know what you are thinking, "Holiday Inn? Really?" but it was a swanky Holiday Inn not like the chintzy ones in the States. Check out pictures here but ignore the first picture of the Great Wall.

Storm is an Internet Celebrity. Virtually all the reviews rave about this Storm guy who helps with all our reservations, transportation, etc. and since the Holiday Inn was reasonably priced and #1 on the list of all hotels in Beijing, we knew we couldn't pass up meeting Mr. Storm.

We only had 3 days in Beijing, so we knew we were in for a typical jam-packed Liner vacation. Our first day, we woke up bright and early to enjoy our lovely free buffet breakfast. Wow what a spread! There was Chinese breakfast, American breakfast, British breakfast, fruits, cheese, you name it. As we are gorging ourselves with fuel for the day, a man from the hotel comes up to our table and greets us. He is very sneaky this one, appearing out of nowhere. He wants to know if we need any assistance with our travel plans. I surreptitiously look at his name tag which, of course, says "Storm." At this point, we totally lose our cool and start blabbering to him about how famous he is and how we're so excited to meet him and can we have his autograph.

After the initial shock, we tell him our plans for the day and he produces a bus pass for us and tells us how to get to where we are going. A Bus Pass people! How cute! Then, he asks us about our plans for the next day. We had already decided we wanted to see the Great Wall but we were having difficulty deciding which part to visit. Folks, the Great Wall isn't named thusly without a reason. It is, indeed, great and very long so there are multiple places to see it (although space is not one of them). We could (a) go to the closest point near Beijing where the Wall has been renovated and is in pristine condition but packed with tourists; (b) go to a point a bit further that is less crowded and not quite so pristine condition; or (c) go to the furthest point and hike 10km on crumbling piles of rock they call "The Great Wall" (but apparently the most authentic of our choices) all the way to point (b) which not too many tourists do. Storm lays out each option, as well as the pro/cons, and waits patiently while Marc and I collaborate. We make our choice and poof, it's done. Storm will arrange a private driver to take us to the Wall, wait for us and drive us back, so we're set for the next day too. He also arranges tickets for us to see the Chinese acrobats that evening. Just. Like. That. Amazing, 15 minutes at the breakfast table and we have our entire weekend itinerary planned.

We walk as instructed to the bus stop and along the way encounter a curious little girl sitting outside her parents' hardware store. Hey, cute sells merchandise, even toilets, in any country. Let's just hope she doesn't fall in!

First official stop on our Beijing tour is the infamous Tiananmen Square, the world's largest square. If you squint through the haze, you can make out the larger-than-life-size portrait of Mao Zedong, overlooking all the residents of Beijing and tens of thousand tourists who come to see him on a daily basis. Tiananmen is located adjacent to the Forbidden City and bisected by the busy road you see in the picture. In order to really see the square, you have to go up to the top of the Front Gate and look back.

I am now standing at the top of the Front Gate with Tiananmen Square behind me. If you look past all the pollution, you can see a large crowd in the large open area. It wasn't a demonstration or protest, that is just the daily load of tourists. As you can see, I too have been chewed up and spit out by the Chinese communist machine. Mao is da bomb.

So, for those of you who remember that we took this trip in June, you might be wondering how the Chinese government managed to eliminate all the pollution by August in time for the Olympics. Despite their claims that they have superior technology, including (and I'm not making this up) a machine that shoots chemicals into the air to prevent rain, the Chinese government lied. Plain and simple. The pollution in Beijing is the worst pollution I have ever seen/smelled/tasted. It is a yellowish brown haze that blankets the entire city. If you are walking around, you can literally taste the dirt and grime in the air. For the Olympics, the Chinese government merely shut down all the factories producing said smog for about 2-3 weeks prior to, as well as during, the Olympics. They also limited the amount of vehicles on the road by implementing an odd-even license plate driving schedule. I could write a whole blog entry on all the things that the government did that you never heard about. If only the shock therapy would stop long enough for me to type it out...

As we made our way into the Forbidden City, we stood in awe of the sprawling courtyards and massive buildings before us. The entire complex occupies over 200 acres and it took us several hours to cover the grounds. The Forbidden City served as the emperor's palace during the Ming and Qing dynasties. Chinese royalty lived their lives confined to the various buildings and gardens, rarely venturing outside the walls. This particular courtyard was big enough to hold imperial audiences of over 100,000 people. However, as the name implies, commoners were not allowed in the Forbidden City for over 500 years. Now, it serves as a tourist playground, complete with map to identify all the buildings.

Whoever got to name the numerous buildings must have really been hitting the opium pipe because these are the names of just a few: Hall of Supreme Harmony, Hall of Middle Harmony, Hall of Preserving Harmony, Palace of Heavenly Purity, Hall of Military Eminence, Hall of Literary Glory and Palace of Tranquil Longevity. At one point, Marc and I just started making up more names: Hall of Cloudy Disposition, Gate of the Powerful Ninja, Hall of Starry Nights, Hall of Mental Cultivation... oh wait, that last one was actually a real name.

After we cultivated our minds, we rented some bicycles and rode through the hutong neighborhoods. Hutongs are narrow alleys with crumbling buildings that many Beijing residents call home. Sadly, many of these neighborhoods are being bulldozed to make way for more high-rise buildings so who knows how long this way of life will exist. Our Lonely Planet guide had a great bike tour that took us through these poor areas and offered us a great view of how the some of the locals live. At one point, I realized I had an admirer checking me out. To be fair, he could have been jealous of my bike, it was a sweet ride for only $5/day.

Here is another exceptional picture of daily hutong life brought to you by my hubby:

After our bike tour, we barely made it back in time to wash up and go to the Chinese acrobat show. I wish I could show you pictures of their amazing feats but photography was not allowed. Let's just say that the Chinese female gymnasts are not the only 8 year olds that can bend like that. If you ask me, I think it is something in the milk that cultivates all these contortionists.

Stay tuned for tomorrow's blog on hiking, crawling, dragging, staggering and whining on the Great Wall. I know I have been terrible about posting blogs lately but I have a great excuse: I have been without a computer for almost a month and I just got it back. For anyone wondering what happens when you spill lemonade on a laptop right in the little vents above the motherboard, well, you can stop wondering because it isn't pretty. I blew up my computer. Thankfully the hard drive was not affected and my all-inclusive Dell warranty covered all the damage (after a bit of yelling). In other words, I'm BACK!

Man, Cambodian Kids are Cute!

Man, I could just watch that video at the end of the last post over and over again. It never fails to make me laugh out loud. So, we are on our way out again - this time to Japan - so I decided to wrap up Cambodia before we left. You must forgive my relapse in posting but I've been busy saving the world. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it.

The temples at Angkor are very spread out so you can't just walk from one to the next. You wouldn't want to anyway, it was about 5,000 degrees Celsius out there (I'm really bad at conversions). Lonely Planet seemed to suggest that you could rent motorbikes but we found out that is no longer the case. I guess one too many tourists wrecked and the government put the kibosh on that much to the enthusiasm of the local trishaw drivers. Ours was named Mr. Vanna and he charged us something like $30/day to scoot our butts to as many temples as we wanted to see. Mr. Vanna was the bomb!

He would even drop us off at the hotel so we could wash all the grime of 1,000-year-old-temples from our bodies and pick us back up again for dinner. The main square in town was really laid back with tons of great little restaurants. Dinner cost us less than $20 including alcohol and dessert - you can't beat that except maybe in Thailand! There were also some really great galleries that sold black and white photographs of the temples but I swear some of Marc's pictures could go on those walls.

The following day, Mr. Vanna picked us up bright and early because we wanted to take a hot air balloon ride. The balloon is tethered to the ground but it does give a great view of the surrounding temples. We had tried to go on it the previous evening, but they claimed it was too windy. Well, we got there in the morning (as per their suggestion) and it was too sunny. Hmmm..... not sure I understand why they need 6 full-time employees to tell everyone that they aren't flying today because of Hurricane Ike hitting Texas or El Nino or whatever other lame excuse they come up with on a daily basis.

No worries though because we just kept on trucking in the back of Mr. Vanna's trishaw. We were off to the country-side to see the farming villages and check out a few more temples. Our first stop was Banteay Srei, the most ornate of the temples but also a temple for little people. We felt right at home.

It looked liked a miniature Angkor Wat but with those funky monkeys outside and intricate carvings on every square inch.

Afterwards, our trusty driver took us on a tour of the farming villages on the way to the next temple. We really got a good look at how most Cambodians live. Their homes are barely more than a few wooden planks for walls and a thatched roof. They don't have electricity and only some are fortunate to have a well donated by a Westerner who visited Cambodia. You could see the signs proudly displayed near wells stating the donor and his country of citizenship.

But what really touched my heart were the children. They were running around, playing, smiling, unaware of their dismal surroundings. In fact, they really made the best out of what they had. In the picture below, rainwater collected in a wide ditch on the side of the dirt road has become the community swimming pool.

Our final destination was Kbal Spean where we were going to do a little hiking. The Lonely Planet guidebook says it is 1 1/2 hours from Banteay Srei on a "sandy track." Um, there was nothing sandy about it. In fact, in some places, I was sure we were going to have to get out and push Mr. Vanna's trishaw out of the muddy mess. It's not like that thing has 4-wheel drive!

Luckily, we got there in one piece and we trekked up to see the "River of a Thousand Lingas." According to our descriptive Lonely Planet, the lingas, or "phallic symbols of fertility" were shaped into the rocks on the river bed. And there are a THOUSAND lingas? This I had to see. Unfortunately, the real thing was quite disappointing, although the deities carved into the rocks were pretty cool. Those bullet shaped carvings on the front are supposed to be the lingas. Not exactly what I had envisioned...On the way back, we needed to stop and get some gas for Mr. Vanna's motorbike. So, we pulled over to the local gas-station-stand-cum-barber-shop where he purchased gas in empty 2-liter bottles of Sprite. Next to the gas station was a sign that indicated the minefield had been cleared by CMAC, Cambodia Mine Action Centre. I hope the gas station came after the mines were cleared!

After our eventful day, Mr. Vanna was nice enough to make reservations for us to have dinner and see a show. The Cambodian dancers were reminiscent of the Indonesian dancers we saw in Bali but they had enormous headdresses!

Who let this nut-job up on stage?

The next day, we begrudgingly made our way to the airport to head back to Hong Kong. The airport security searched our bags thoroughly and made us return these 4 Cambodian children. I *still* contend that I have no idea how they ended up in our suitcases, I swear!