Kreuzberg

I've been incredibly lazy and have failed to post to the blog in any significant manner since leaving Southeast Asia. I spent three weeks on the east coast of America visiting friends. I spent much of this time in Brooklyn, but also made short trips back to Boston and D.C. It was strange to be back at Harvard, especially during reading period when everyone was busy studying. I wasn't at all sad to no longer be in that position.

I flew out of New York in mid May to London and took a bus the same morning up to Cambridge. I stayed a night there with Joe, my freshman year roommate, and looked around town and checked out Pembroke College where I'll be living come October.

Next day I took a train to Cardiff in Wales where Jon, who I had last seen in Thailand, picked me up. We spent a night at his house and then flew out of Bristol the next day to Dublin.

In our usual fashion, we checked into a hostel, only to end up sleeping at a friend of a friend's house. Back to the hostel the next morning to pick up our bags and check out. After a few days in Dublin, we set out for the southwest of Ireland by bus.

The southwest of the country is incredibly beautiful with some stunning landscapes and charming towns.




We eventually returned to Dublin and flew back to Bristol. I then made my way back to London where I spent a night with Simona and Jamie. I was heading next to Paris and conveniently they too were going to France, so I got a ride with them. We drove to Dover and crossed the channel by ferry. Simona and Jamie were heading to the northeast of France, so they dropped me off at the train station in Lens and I took the train the rest of the way. I arrived at Steve's apartment in the 20th just in time for a memorable dinner party.

After five days in Paris, I flew to Berlin. Back in Cambridge, I had responded to a few online postings about rooms available for sublet in Berlin. One person responded to my inquiries and I arranged to sublet a room in Kreuzberg for the month of June. I knew nothing about the room, though. All I knew was that it was in an apartment with two German girls. I had paid no deposit. I had only a phone number which I was to ring when I arrived in Berlin.

Arriving at the airport in Paris, I realised I had never made a note of the apartment's address. I shot off a text message to the phone number in Berlin and by the time I arrived at Tegel, I had a response. An hour later I was moving into my room.

My roommates turned out to be incredibly friendly. Isa is a director, while Nadja is an actor. She also fronts a punk rock band.

My third day there, they threw a party in an abandoned brewery in Prenzlauer Berg where I met a number of their friends. One of whom is an actor who was about to start shooting a short film. I ended up assisting on the film, which was a lot of fun and allowed me to meet still more members of the Berlin acting community.

A week into my stay in Berlin, the World Cup started. Jon flew over from Wales to visit. Originally he was going to stay a week, but ended up staying two. Each day was spent waking up late, finding somewhere to watch the first game, moving somewhere else for the second, and once again somewhere new for the third. And then out exploring the Berlin nightlife. We had tickets to one game World Cup game, Spain v Ukraine in Leipzig.

Just before Jon left, Kevin, our mutual friend who we had met in Vietnam, arrived and stayed with us for three days.


Jon and Kevin left just as the tournament moved into its latter stages. At the beginning of July, I moved into a new apartment. Two friends who I had met through my original roommates were going to Malaysia for the month of July and had suggested I stay in their apartment. It is a beautiful place on Kreuzberg's eastern edge close to where the wall ran.


Last weekend Steve came up from Paris to visit. We had a fun time watching the quarter finals of the World Cup and wandering the streets of Kreuzberg.




One can even still see the occasional Trabant on the Berlin's streets.

We of course also saw the main sights in Berlin's Mitte.


On Saturday, we went swimming in the local pool. The hull of an old ship has been turned into a swimming pool, floating in the river Spree. A boardwalk runs out over the water to the pool. The sides of the pool are only slight higher than the river level, so that swimming in the pool, one can look up and be surrounded by great expanses of water.

The World Cup is drawing to a close now, with only the final and third-place playoff to go. The festive atmosphere in Berlin has been great and will hopefully continue after the tournament.

Letter to the editor

John Tierney’s “Kicking the Soccer Habit” (New York Times, June 24) is at times tongue-in-cheek, but he is nonetheless quite serious in arguing that soccer, or football as the rest of the world knows it, is a boring sport and one which America would do well not to embrace. In short, it is a defense of American parochialism.

Tierney points to a Pew survey which shows only 4 percent of Americans name soccer as their favorite sport to watch. Yet, a staggering proportion of Americans play the sport at some level, be it youth or amateur or professional. Is it not possible that the true spectator potential of the sport in America has not yet been realized? After all, the world’s premier leagues, games and players are practically unavailable to viewers of mainstream networks.

It is, of course, a self-reinforcing cycle. With few viewers, soccer attracts few television advertisers. And with small advertising revenues, television networks have little incentive to promote the game. I wouldn’t be the first observer to suggest that mainstream American viewers watch what they’re told to watch by that great monolith, the American advertising industry.

Tierney, sounding like a neocon espousing the need to spread democracy, then suggests that “the rest of the world could learn from us. Maybe they love soccer because they haven’t been given better alternatives.” Is it really likely that the rest of the world just aren’t as sophisticated as American viewers? That while the Americans can enjoy those flowing games of non-stop excitement such as baseball and American football, the rest of the world puts up with the tedium of the soccer game? I’m sure Tierney is aware of the existence of financially viable professional basketball, hockey and American football leagues throughout Europe including European-wide ‘Champions League’ style competitions. And yet Europeans still, in the vast majority, tune into soccer.

Perhaps Tierney’s complaints about soccer are motivated foremost by another peculiar American trait—an inability to accept that this superpower is, when it comes to the one sport of global significance, only mediocre.

"That's me, darling. Unusual places, unusual love affairs. I am a most strange and extraordinary person."

My room in Kreuzberg, Berlin

Buses and Planes

It's a week of long trips. I left my guesthouse in Luang Prabang at 6am to catch a 6:30 bus. It didn't leave until eight and arrived in Vientiane at five. There, I changed to another bus which drove to the Thai border. I crossed the Friendship Bridge over the Mekong into Thailand and boarded another bus which drove through the night, arriving in Bangkok at 4:30am, some 22 hours after I set out on the journey.

I ate breakfast on Koh San Road, infamous backpacker strip, and then took a taxi to my hotel. By a strange coincidence, I flagged down the same driver who took me from Koh San Road to the airport earlier in the month when I arrived by bus from Ko Phi Phi and flew a few hours later to Phnom Phen. Last time he was on his way, after dropping me at the airport, to vote in the now infamous election. This time I secured an invitation to his family farm northeast of Bangkok.

Another long trip awaits me tonight. I fly in a few hours (departing 3am local time) to New York via Kuwait and London, arriving some 26 hours after taking off.

Luang Prabang

Patrick and I spent a second day in Vientiane wandering around town and exploring various markets and temples.


On our third day in Laos, we took a bus to Luang Prabang in the north. The bus ride took the better part of the day, leaving at 7am and arriving about 3pm in the afternoon. The road north is incredibly picturesque. About four hours into the journey, the bus entered the mountains of northern Laos, offering spectacular views into the valleys below and lush green peaks above.

Stopping for lunch, I noticed that one of our fellow passengers had an AK-47 assault rifle hanging over one shoulder. I was reminded of the various armed attacks on buses and other vehicles in northern Laos in 2003 and 2004 (as well as several bombings in Vientiane). Indeed, the most recent road attack occured in January 2005. Here, I realised, was our armed escort.


A couple hours later, coming around a sharp corner on the side of a mountain, the bus came to a sudden stop. In front of us, a sedan was parked, blocking our path. The driver looked around nervously. After several minutes he finally got down from the bus and went to talk to the small crowd of people by the sedan. They talked for several more minutes. The sedan didn't move. At this point, our AK-47 wiedling escort walked down the aisle of the bus to see what was going on. Holding the rifle at the ready, he joined the driver in conversation. After several more minutes, the small group appeared to reach some resolution. One man, apparently the sedan owner, produced some chalk and outlined the tires of the sedan. At this point I noticed the sedan had left long skid marks on the pavement. Having chalked the sedan's position, the owner finally drove forward, making room for the bus to pass. Underneath where the car had previously stood, lay a single sandal. Evidently, there had been some sort of accident, although the victim had been obviously already moved.

Arriving in Luang Prabang, we checked into the Sayo Guesthouse, a beautifully restored French building, which had been recommended to me by a colleague. The town sits on the southern bank of the Mekong and is a UNESCO World Heritage site. It's a very quiet town, filled with beautiful old buildings and magnificent temples.






We spent what was left of yesterday and today exploring the town and eating several extravagent meals. Patrick flew back to Beijing via Bangkok this afternoon. I'm taking a bus back to Vientiane tomorrow and from there I'll make my way to Bangkok.

Vientiane

I've arrived in Vientiane, sleepy backwater capital of Laos. It's been an exhausting but fun day.
Last night, in Hanoi, I filled in on an expat darts team. My friend Michael, the co-owner of the hostel where I stay when in Hanoi, invited me along. We were playing a team of American expats who were hosting the game at the American Club. We lost, but went to celebrate anyway at the bar which Michael also co-owns. I finally excused myself at 2am and got a ride on a motorcycle back to the hostel where I awoke a couple hours later, at 4:30am, to catch a shuttle to the airport. Exhuasted and drunk, I checked into my flight and an hour later touched down in Vientiane.
I had made plans by Email to meet my friend Patrick (with whom I travelled in Cambodia three years ago) here in Vientiane. I knew that he also arrived today by plane, but not when. By an astounding coincidence, his plane touched down shortly after mine and I surprised him in the immigration hall waiting for his visa.
Patrick had met an Australian woman working at a mine in Laos on his flight and we got a ride with her into town. She took us out to lunch. It was mid-afternoon by the time we set off to find a guesthouse. We took one overlooking the Mekong and I quickly fell asleep. I was awakened a couple hours later by Patrick and we set off on a walk around central Vientiane. On the way we ran into Scott, from England, who I had met on Ko Phi Phi. Such is the nature of traveling in this part of the world that one constantly runs into aquaintances from other countries.
This evening, Patrick and I enjoyed a delicious meal and several carafes of wine at a French restaurant overlooking the main square in town.
Tomorrow we'll continue our exploration of Vientiane and possibly take a bus north.

"Mantovani? They feed Mantovani to insomniacs who don't respond to strong drugs."

Back in Hanoi. It's nice to be back in a city where I know my way around, where I know the good places to eat and drink, where I even know some people by name. I arrived by bus from Hue early this morning. For a change, I borrowed a bicycle rather than rent a motorcycle and rode around town running a few errands such as organising a flight to Vientiane and mailing some clothes back to Australia.

I've finally found a computer where I can upload some photos, so I'll start back in Phnom Phen. Tuol Sleng, the former highschool which became the Khmer Rouge's main interrogation centre, is a fairly depressing place. It's now a museum which documents the crimes committed there.


I also took a motorcycle out to the 'Killing Fields' at the town of Choeung Ek, a short drive from Phnom Phen. Many of the Tuol Sleng prisoners were executed and buried in mass graves here. Rather than waste bullets, the Khmer Rouge executioners, many of them children, used pick handles and bamboo shafts instead, striking their victims on the head or back of the neck.

Parts of Phnom Phen also speak of a more peaceful past, with large, old, crumbling colonial buildings hinting at the city's past grandeur.


From Phnom Phen, I took a bus to the Vietnamese border. The Cambodian immigration officials were even slower checking my passport going out than they were coming in.

Ho Chi Minh City is big and busy. It feels and looks quite modern with wide avenues and at least one KFC. It lacks all the charm of Hanoi and the character and grittiness of Phnom Phen. I made a day trip out to the Cu Chi tunnels just north of the city from which the Viet Cong harassed American and South Vietnamese troops.

From Ho Chi Minh City I traveled to Dalat, a town in the south of the Central Highlands. I toured the hills and villages around the town on motorcycle, visiting waterfalls, a coffee plantation, a silk factory and a mushroom farm, among other sites.


On to Nha Trang, a beach town quickly becoming a major tourist destination for Vietnamese and foreigners alike. There is a lot of development going on here, with new hotels going up all along the waterfront. I contacted Thu here, a family friend who works at the local tax office. She took me out to dinner and the following day insisted on taking the day off from work in order to show me around town. The highlight was definitely having lunch with her family in their modest home.


From Nha Trang, I took an overnight bus to Hoi An, just south of Danang. Hoi An is a UNESCO World Heritage site. It's a small, quiet trading port. Parts of the town date to the 15th century, with buildings exhibiting local and foreign influences from that period onwards.


The town is also full of tailors. There must be more tailor stores than all other enterprises combined. I took a day trip out into the jungle to the ruins of the My Son temples. I also got a haircut here. In Hoi An, that is, not the temples.


And from there it was a 17 hour bus ride to Hanoi (with a change of bus in Hue). I fly to Vientiane in Laos on Wednesday.

Phnom Phen

The guy on the computer next to me has been playing online backjack for the past hour and a half. Who comes to Phnom Phen to play online blackjack?

I flew from Bangkok to Phnom Phen.
I'm staying at Guesthouse #9 on the east side of Boeung Kak Lake. It's a nice place. The whole structure--rooms, restaurant, bar--is built on stilts over the water.

Yesterday I gave blood at the Children Hospital's Blood Bank.
I got a free t-shirt.
And a bag of food.
The food I dropped off at a nearby orphanage.
The t-shirt I kept.
I need to do laundry.

Today I dropped off my passport at the Vietnamese embassy.
And I visited the Toul Sleng Genocide Museum, a high school-cum-interrogation and torture centre. It was the main such centre under the Khmer Rouge regime.

The city looks much the same as when I was last here almost four years ago.
The airport still looks brand new.
In fact, they still have the same signs at the immigration counters apologising for delays caused by the 'new' computer system.
And they still have the same painfully slow immigration officials.

Crises

In the past 12 hours, I've had two crises, probably the most stressful situations I've experienced in the past several months.

Yesterday afternoon I got on a bus in Krabi which took me as far as Surat Thani. Here, I had to change buses.
Sitting down to wait for my connecting bus, I discovered, to my horror, that I had lost the Le Carré novel through which I had made it half way, having managed for the first time in my life to read on a bus and not suffer from motion sickness. The next hour passed agonizingly slowly.

The new bus drove through the night, arriving in Bangkok early this morning. I decided I would fly the second leg of my trip to Phnom Phen.

Killing some time before going to the airport, I browsed a second hand book store. It was here that I suffered my second crisis. As inevitably happens when I enter a book store, I found far more books which I wanted to read than I could practically carry. I spent an agonizing time trying to decide, in the end of course still buying too many books (Barbara Tuchman, Eric Hobsbawm, Kurt Vonnegut, and another copy of the lost Le Carré). These join Isaiah Berlin's biography of Marx and two histories of Cambodia under the Khmer Rouge in my pack. (Chris will be delighted to know that I still haven't read the original Cambodian history I brought, although I have read two other accounts of the Khmer Rouge which I picked up on my travels).

This afternoon I will fly into Phnom Phen. Hopefully I can read and discard a couple of these books before landing.

Now the liquor tasted good and the women all were fast

Like Gordon, I won't be catching a jet plane out of Thailand. I just couldn't justify the price and you can't jump a jetplane like you can a freight train. So I'm on a 14 hour overnight bus from Krabi to Bangkok tomorrow (following a ferry ride from Phi Phi). From there I hope to find transport to Cambodia. I suspect I'll enter the country as the French left it, by road across the Thai border, although most likely not in a Khmer Rouge accompanied convoy.

I've had a fun time on Ko Phi Phi. It seems so long ago that I first stepped off the boat with Jon (from Wales) and my new guitar and, I suppose, it was. I've become quite at home here now. I've made some good friends at the dive shop and around the island. The Thai lady at the market stall knows to make my dishes extra spicy. And my friend whose internet cafe I always use has made a habit of waving away my attempts to pay her (an exaggeration; she only does this occasionally. But while the official price is 2 Thai baht per minute, she always, without fail, makes up prices significantly below this which have no relation to the actual time which she, once again without fail, records on a stopwatch).

And while I'll miss the diving and the friends I've made, I'm excited about leaving. Life moves at an incredibly slow pace here. I can see how the island is an attractive tropical paradise getaway for a week vacation, but I fail to understand what motivates the large number of long-term Europeans who are not involved in the island's dive industry. Day after day I see the same people handing out advertising flyers in the evening and getting drunk in the night.

So diving (and a few friends) aside, I'll be happy to leave. Cambodia promises to be exciting.