Dalat Rain

For the better part of a week I've been in the mountain town of Dalat, a bit north of Ho Chi Minh City. It's wonderfully cool compared to the low-laying cities I've been in for the best couple weeks. It's also smaller  and quieter than the previous places so I keep deciding to stay another day. Today's extension was rewarded by heavy rains so I've been hiding indoors to keep my sketchbook dry. Initially I was a bit annoyed but everything has turned out fine. Sitting in a Vietnamese mall examining the gifts of capitalism is way more a fun than I had previously thought.

Night Searching

"I'm going for a walk," I say as the straps of my knock-off sandals dig into the soft flesh of my toes.

"I'm going to spew." Marielle shows the whites of her eyes and clutches her tablet tight against her abdomen. The machine's low-grade radiation is helping to soothe the greasy omelet lodged in her stomach. I'm suddenly glad to be the kind of impatient gentleman that passes the first of two identical dishes to his dining partner and decides to find something else for lunch when the cook doesn't get around to making the second. "Have a good time. And don't feel like you can't join the party downstairs. And don't feel like you can't stay here."

I nod and it's every nod I've ever made as a place holder for an explanation.

"Feel better soon. I've got some Gravol if you want it." I turn out the light and her nose ring reflects the tablet's glow as the door closes softly.

Two flights of stairs give way beneath me and the hostel foyer is filled with people, noodles, and plastic bottles filled with beer. I add a smile to a different type of nod when the hostess motions for me to join the party. I press a white headphone into its canal and my ear left drum is filled with the vibrations of Andrew Bird's voice and guitar. The hostess smiles before turning back to the party. I think tonight might be Saturday but it's not a Saturday for socializing. Maybe she understands and becomes every person whose offer I've turned down.

Outside, rough cement presses against my feet and the breeze is cooler than I ever thought it could be. The cement grows vertically into tightly packed buildings that funnel air flows through me. My shirt is freshly washed but still damp against skin. It rained today the manager of the hostel told me. This shirt was lucky to escape most of the downpour of bonded hydrogen and oxygen.

The night sky can't be dark with so many neon signs on top of other neon signs. At street level bright headlights accompany Andrew Bird as he sings, "Let's get out of here/Past the atmosphere."

So I walk on, trying to make every step meaningful. I want to get lost but a strong sense of self-preservation keeps me on well known streets. One step happens and it's every night time step I've ever taken, every time and every place wrapped up neatly in the slapping sound of plastic and heel.

Then the next step happens and things change. I'm two dimensional, bones and sinew replaced with lines of all different lengths. The major lines run through my stick legs and my box abdomen up through my head. Their molecules vibrate along their various lengths in time with the lights of the street.

"Come by sea/swarm like smoke in the dawn/we were the young/we were the swarm," Andrew Bird sings and the bass drum feeds the hum through my lines. Some more steps happen and the only thing I'm aware of is a light mist covering my glasses. I brush the front of my shirt but it can't get any more damp. It's a happy thought so I start to sing along with Andrew Bird. The words are every word I've ever sang before someone who couldn't understand my language.

I approach the river in the centre of town and the neon flowers that line its bank are the only things I can focus on. They're two dimensional and I resist their pull amid dim recollections of major lines and their energy. The next trap is Atlantis rising quickly from the waves. Skeletons are being flushed from the draining spires and merfolk dance along to an eerie beat. It's interesting but I turn my back to the scene. My next step brings me back the way I came.

"Did it carry you away/carry you all away/nomenclature's washing you away," says a voice and it spreads through connected carbon atoms to my fingertips. I remember a cafe I'd passed by several times and a major line of my brain finds the least number of street crossings that will get me there. Then I'm facing the words 'The Muse' scrawled in neon and the cafe is surprisingly two dimensional. I make the final crossing anyway. Halfway through the street I remember that crossing and passing are the same word in a language I don't understand.

I strike gold and the cafe isn't so two dimensional when I step up to the counter. Alternating light and dark bricks hold up one side of a space that contains just as many staff as customers. The chalkboard menu is written cramped near the ceiling because the lower portion of its wall is braced with so many machines.

"Here's the menu," the waitress says when I can't decipher the chalk items under the glare.

"Coffee please."

"Do you want it upstairs?"

I don't understand the question so I triumphantly point to the only empty table. She nods like I solved the riddle. I step towards my seat at the pine-chip tabletop stuck onto an uncut-log stand and it's amazing. I kill more time by examining the obvious staircase that I had walked by on my way to the counter. The waitress brings my coffee before I can decide how many dimensions it has though.

The coffee takes a step to my lips and it's the only liquid that I've ever tasted. A taxi flashes by and it's the only machine to have ever operated. I look at the counter and the waitress is the only person I've ever met. I realize Andrew Bird is no longer singing, only a guitar and the sound of a dragonfly's wings fill my leftmost nitrogen atoms. I finish my cup quickly in order to return to the hostel. The party continues as the hostess and I perform a complex ritual consisting only of nods and smiles.

"The Gravol totally fixed me," Marielle says brightly when I step into the room, the stairs having been remade beneath me.

"That's great." I pause to take off my sandals and it adds weight to such generic words. But I say them with every one of my lines. The only follow up I can think of is that I love this place. I don't know what those words mean but it comes out anyway.

"Why's that?" She looks up, briefly.

"Just the feeling here. Same as always, right?" I say without thinking.

I get into bed and I'm only aware of that feeling here.

Return to Angkor Wat

I rented a bike yesterday and headed back to Angkor Wat at 6 am to avoid the heat. The temperature here hadn't bothered me too much but the last couple days have been worse. I've been a bit sick--just a sore throat--so maybe that's why. Riding through the jungle in the early morning felt great though and there weren't as many people around. I was able to get some good sketches done but my favorite is the gateway to Angkor Thom, the walled city next door to Angkor Wat. Going through that tiny gate--it's just big enough for a medium-sized car--feels like stepping through a portal to another world. As amazing as the buildings are I'd rather hang around the gates all day.

As midday approached I cycled back to the guesthouse to get some lunch and have a nap in the shade. Then around 4 pm it was cool enough to see some new temples. I decided to check out to the furthest temple, Preah Khan, which was cool but they're all starting to look the same. I was happy to get a sketch of an elephant tree eating a crumbling wall done before the park closed. The return trip to town brought back lots of memories from my cycle tour through western Canada. It was a good to sketch my legs a bit except the bike was a little small. And, boy, did that rear break screech! Watching dusk fall over the most around Angkor Wat as lightning strikes in the background will be one of my best memories from this trip.

Now I'm off to find some fruit and a pool to cool off in.

Angkor Wat

Yesterday I took a tour of the temple of Angkor Wat, the eighth wonder of the world, and some of the surrounding buildings. The temple grounds are huge and great moat--like a man-made lake really--surrounds the whole thing. You enter the main area over a huge causeway and that's the first set of pictures below. Then you pass through the outer ring of gatehouses and walls into the inner grounds surrounding the actual temple. Every surface of the sandstone blocks used to build the whole place is intricately carved with figures of different gods and demons or geometric patterns. Inside the temple you go up steep flights of stairs to get to the top that represents the home of the gods. Originally it was dedicated to Hindu gods in the 12th century or something but some parts were changed to Buddhist statures in the centuries since.

It's really an overwhelming place and there are tons more temples and other related buildings in the area with different styles of architecture and decoration. I'm going back tomorrow to check it out some more and then again on Thursday. Hopefully I'll have a better handle on it then!

A Change of Scenery

Early tomorrow morning I'm taking a bus to Siem Reap, the departure town for the ancient Khmer temples of Angkor Wat, and it's about time. I really need a change of scenery. It's not that Siem Reap will be any different than Phnom Penh--or any other place--in any fundamental way. I've traveled enough to know that your perception of a place is more important than its actual qualities. It's so easy at the start when everything is new and interesting. After two weeks the city hasn't changed but I find myself sitting around playing Pixel Dungeon and browsing Reddit rather than exploring the town.

So I haven't been able to post anything for a week. I've even done some stuff worth writing about: exploring silk island with my Mom, visiting the Royal Palace with my Cambodian friends Kunthea and Rathana, watching a documentary about Asian shadow puppets in a German bar. I couldn't quite get my fingers moving on the keyboard when I had some time to type though. The topics don't seem that exciting after the fact.

Yesterday I tried to pin my malaise on the city. My ideas included: I don't feel the right vibe here, the temples are gaudy monstrosities inside and out (except when their rooftops stick out from the skyline), buying things is my most common interaction with Cambodians, the weather is too damn hot,and there's tons of pollution. I wasn't being fair though. Nothing on that list is keeping me tossing and turning night after night. There are all kinds of things that are great about being here: Cambodians are super friendly (tuk tuk drivers are not pushy here at all), they love trying to speak Khmer with foreigners, nighttime in the city is beautiful, and the food is fresh and delicious. The real issue is that, at some point last weekend, my internal vacation clock turned over from a fun-and-relaxing upswing to a worrying-about-real-life downswing.

I'm betting that having something new to explore will rekindle some of those upswing feelings.

Good Enough to Eat

The fruit here is definitely one of the highlights of the trip. The mini bananas are like concentrated versions of the larger variety I usually devour and the dragon fruit I haven't really figured out how to describe yet. Both are good excuses to bust out the new markers too.

Phnom Penh Rooftops

A single skyscraper dominates the skyline of Phnom Penh. It's visible from every corner of the city but the few people I asked didn't know anything about it. Yesterday I decided to investigate.

The tower looms over the area I like to think of as downtown. The central market, the main bus station and a modern mall are all nestled together within two blocks. I headed into the mall, aka Sorya shopping centre, to get a good look at the tower. At the top of Sorya, eight stories up, is a restaurant with a view of the city. There wasn't a single customer despite it being early afternoon. The hostess didn't mind me looking around so I found a shady spot on the balcony to sketch the tower (see below). Three quarters of its surface are covered in straight glass panes like many of its contemporary siblings but the fourth wall is made of overlapping arcs of glass that make up a long curve. It appears as though a cocoon is slowly being shed to let something escape. On some floors it looks like windows are missing entirely but it was too far away to see why. I returned to the streets to check the tower out from inside; the upper levels would have even better views of the city.

The base was surrounded by construction. Though it looks like it's mostly finished the lower levels are stocked with tools and materials. At least I found the name: Vattanac Capital Project. It's going to house offices, stores, and apartments and at 39 stories it's by far the biggest building around Phnom Penh.

As I retraced my footsteps I realized how vividly coloured the city is. Sketches in black pen aren't doing the sights justice. Luckily I found a stationary store that carried a few markers pretty easily. A little closer to home I came across the Olympic Stadium and from its stands I could see a bit of the surrounding city. The orange and green roof of a pagoda provided a chance to start colouring the city.

Holiday in Cambodia

Last week my cousin Jonathan invited me on a day trip around BC in his plane. We flew from Victoria to Chilliwack to have some brunch pie, then up to Pemberton for lunch. The power was out at the pub by the airstrip though so we left hungry. The return leg of the trip took us over Whistler and Nanaimo, where the pub was open for business. The sketches of Jon's Cessna, the mountains, and the clouds are the best of the trip.

Thanks again, Jonathan!

The next leg of my summer trip was flying to Cambodia via China. My Mom and I left Vancouver at noon Monday morning and landed at Phnom Penh, Cambodia's capitol, around 11 pm last night. The 12 hour flight from Vancouver to Guangzhou, China went relatively quickly. I brought enough books and gadgets to keep myself occupied. Sitting around the Guangzhou airport for five hours was a drag but at least I got to taste ten dollar watermelon juice.

All I've seen so far of Phnom Penh is the back of a tuk-tuk and a grocery store. The view from my balcony is a bit different from Kitchener-Waterloo though.