Dobro Došli u Croatia

You may want to get a tea of coffee and get comfortable for this one, it's been a while between blog posts.

After finding my green thumbs in the Umbrian soil and farewelling my kind hosts, I ventured up to Verona to reunite with my long lost sister Beth. The city that inspired Shakespeare's tale of two households was an old and beautiful town and we visited the alleged balcony where Juliet allegedly called out to her Romeo. We were met at the hostel by a lovely and enthusiastic Italian lady who looked after us for the two nights we were there. After Verona, we both decided we wanted to get out of the cities for a while, so we randomly caught a train up to Bolzano, a small town at the foot of the Dolomites in Northern Italy. In fact, it was so northern it pretty much felt like Austria. We did a walk in the mountains after catching a cable car up and we half expected to hear someone yodelling or Julie Andrews twirling around in a grass field. The rocky Dolomites themselves still had snow on top, so we couldn't go right up there, but they looked cool, kind of scary and misty like something out of Lord of the Rings.

We then caught a train to Venice, a labyrinth city of crazy canals and narrow alleyways. It was a little surreal walking around the city you've seen so many times before in movies. It was our last stop in Italy, so after wandering the streets (getting lost more times than I can count), testing out the bar scene, eating our weight in pizza, calzone and gelati and scamming a few free rides on the waterbus (not to mention a "free" night at the hostel), Bonnie and Clyde aka Beth and Megan boarded a bus to our next adventure: destination Croatia.

I really didn't know much about Croatia before getting there, just that heaps of travelers had told us it was beautiful. So we disembarked at Pula not quite knowing what to expect. We walked for what seemed like forever to our hostel with our backpacks, getting accosted by old Croatian ladies who barely spoke English to see if we wanted to rent a room from them. We walked past an old Roman colisseum then up some gruelling steps to finally be greeted warmly by the lovely Croatian lady called Gordana who ran the hostel. After the tourist circus that is Italy, it was nice to stay somewhere relatively quiet and with the most motherly lady - she was so hospitable and welcoming, we didn't want to leave - "For me this is not job" she says "This is my passion, I love to meet the young people". So we booked three extra nights and proceeded to lie on the beach, sunbake, swim and lie on the beach every day. We also did a day trip to Rovinj, one hour north to lie on the beach, sunbake, swim and lie on the beach. Although, in Rovinj it was a little harder to enjoy the view of the islands and crystal clear waters as we were kind of distracted by all the nude people sunbaking, fishing and lying on the beach. Apparently there was a nudist island nearby, but I think some people had lost their way.

So then we farewelled Gordana ("I will miss you so much" she said) and moved on to Zadar, a lively student town with more crystal clear water. We were fascinated by the "sea organ" which was a set of steps with holes in them and somehow the wind and sea made a sound like a huge wood pipe crossed with a whale call... it was such a cool sound, but it took us a long time to figure out where it was coming from. We had the best gelati in all of Europe here (well, maybe) and watched the worst movie in the world (Sex and the City 2). Coming out of the cinema we nearly forgot we were in Croatia for a while. There are times like that where I have to pinch myself and remember that I am actually in Europe and all my family and friends are over the other side of the world. It's a bit crazy.

Next was Plitvice National Park, a place that could have come out of a mythical land like Lord of the Rings or something. Massive waterfalls, green moss, trees and bushes everywhere and the clearest bluest lakes you have ever seen. Unfortunately I forgot my camera, but Beth took heaps of photos. That night we went to a Croatian music concert in "town" where people were crowded around to watch geriatric rock bands and barbie doll girls lip sync their way through the night. They weren't even convincing... the guitar and bass weren't even plugged in. But it was a great experience nonetheless. An accordion player was the highlight of the night, playing his way through a medley of rock songs with a cheesy smile on his face the whole time. Beth and I decided it was official: accordions were now sexy.

We then missed a bus to Split... actually, the bus missed us, just deciding not to stop for some unknown reason... from where we caught a ferry to Hvar Island. Here we got some more chillout time and met some cool people to watch the World Cup with. Unfortunately, the Australian vs. Germany game was just embarrassing, so we went to some bars to drown our sorrows. The next day a group of us hired a little boat with a motor tacked on the back to explore another island. The guy who suggested it had never driven a boat, but the owner of the hostel agreed to hire it to us anyway. But the smile faded from his face as he watched our Captain crash into two moored boats and the jetty before getting out of the harbour. He seemed very relieved 6 hours later when we pulled back in without scraping anything and with the boat in one piece.

So now I am in Dubrovnik, a nice little town with some more beautiful beaches and islands. The hostel is once again the epitome of Croatin hospitality with a motherly woman named Milka who serves us all breakfast every morning and calls us her beautiful children. I really do love Croatian people. Yesterday we did a day trip to Montenegro - you know, another day, another country - and did some snorkelling and cruising around. But once again I am parted from my sister for a while. She goes onto Greece and I am about to board a bus to Austria, where I have lined up some volunteer work at a hotel in the Alps. They need someone young and fit to lead some hiking tours and serve some food. And I need to stop in one place and relax for a while, as I am feeling a little burnt out and am starting to take some of these amazing sights for granted.

Halfway home,
Megan

My House in Umbria

When a backpacker from Hawaii first told me about Workaway when I was in Amsterdam, I was slightly dubious. I mean, it sounded like slave labour... working half the day just for some food and shelter... it sounded a bit medieval. But I met the backpacker at a Christian hostel and I thought maybe it was divine intervention... so I signed up.

Basically there are heaps of organisations and families who put advertisements online for volunteers at their farm or hostel or hotel and poor backpackers like me hoping to save a  buck and soak up some language and culture get in touch with them to help out for a few weeks. So I contacted a family that sounded friendly who were living in an old farmhouse right near the border of Tuscany and Umbria in the countryside in Italy. I had no idea what to expect.

Beth and I parted ways as she went on to Rome to continue her adventures. I was met at the station by Alex, an Englishwoman who immediately seemed friendly and hospitable. It was with her I would be spending the next two weeks slaving away in the garden strimming, mowing, weeding, composting, digging and planting. Now don't faint people, I haven't done a whole lot of gardening in my life, so most of this was quite new to me. But I found it to be quite enjoyable when the sun was shining down and it felt good to see the garden take shape. I thought hauling a 20kg backpack around was good for my muscles, but gardening has definitely given me a workout. However, it hasn't all been hard work.

The day after I got there we went to some natural hot baths in the middle of nowhere to soak our muscles, which was great. On the hot days we have also made afternoon visits to the outdoor swimming pool that sits in the middle of a grass field with a great view out over the hills and towns. Alex and her husband (who is currently in America visiting family) also have two gorgeous little girls, Thomasina (10) and Isolde (8). My second day in the garden Thomasina didn't go to school because she had a "tummy ache" which turned out to be a guise so that she could spend the day gardening with us and listen to me tell her stories all day. Funnily enough, Isolde had a "tummy ache" two days later and I had to dig deep (pardon the pun) into my story bank to entertain her for the day. These kids are pretty well-read... I had to think outside your regular fairytales and greek myths, because they had heard them all. "Can't you stay forever?" They asked me. I'm pretty sure I would run out of stories.

The house itself is a beautiful old two-storey orange-brick thing surounded by lush garden and grass with wild poppies and other such flowers growing everywhere. It's a bit of an explosion inside as they are in the proces of rebuilding parts, but it has a certain charm. The view of the surrounding country is amazing. I often enjoy it as I am having a shower outside with the sun shining down or sitting in a deck chair in the front yard.

Last weekend we did a day trip to Assisi, which is really only famous because of St Francis who stuck it up the Catholic Church by telling them they were becoming greedy and not helping the poor enough in the 15th century. But it really is a beautiful city in its own right. We took a long walk to an old fortress that looked out over half of Umbria, visited Francis' tomb and ate some world class gelati before driving home for a delicious dinner of mussels in tomato, garlic and olive oil wth salad.

I love travelling around, but the last two weeks have been good to be still for a while, to sit back and relax with a beer and a book as the suns sets over the countryside and think about where I'm heading next. Maybe Croatia if I can get in contact with Beth (who wins worst traveller of the year award... yes, Beth, it's official). I've made it halfway, but I swear it already feels like a year has passed. I can't wait to see what the next half has in store for me. I definitely think I will be giving Workaway another go.

Love Megan

Nudity in Florence

After Paris I felt like I needed a good bath. So I caught a 5 hour train down to Nice, on the southern coast of Spain. And after a few days of straight rain, the sun once again showed its face for a beautiful day in Nice. I did some much needed laundry then walked around the coast where people sunbathed on a pebbly beach beside azure water without a wave in sight. I climbed a big cliff to look out over the view of the city with its terra cotta houses jutting out of green hills. This must have been the better part of France. That night I caught a train to Cannes for the red carpet opening of the Cannes Film Festival. I snuck into a restricted area with all the stalkers with step ladders and craned necks waving their cameras over the heads of the people in front to get the good paparazzi shots. It was funny to see what goes on around the red carpet, the parts you don't see on TV. The atmosphere was awesome with music and excited people everywhere, wannabe celebrities walking around in suits and glittering dresses... or maybe they were famous, but I certainly didn't recognise them. One Australian guy I met snuck onto the red carpet right at the end in his tuxedo with bow tie and then started pretending he was famous and signing autographs afterwards. I got a photo with him and then all the French girls were asking "Excuse me, but who is that?" I got my paparazzi shots of Tim Burton, Cate Blanchett, Salma Hayek, Russell Crowe and Eva Longoria (just to drop a few names) and then went to watch the Gorillaz play on a stage on the water. 

The next day I caught another 5 hour train to meet my sister Beth in Pisa, a town really only famous for one thing; a tower that defied the laws of architecture and physics. The highlight, however, was not the tower but the awesome hostel we were staying at. It was in an old monastery with 300 year old stained glass windows and an enigmatic owner, Marco who mad our stay very comfortable. Him and his Thai wife cooked us dinner which consisted of three different types of pasta cooked Tuscan style and some bruschetta washed down with some Sicilian red wine. We were like a big Italian family all sitting around the dinner table and after dinner Marco showed us his pet ferret. So that day Beth and I got some dumb tourist shots of us leaning against the tower and hugging the tower (I can't describe how stupid people look when they do this - see below and that was Pisa.

The next day we went to Florence, an old city most famous for Michelangelo's David, but there were plenty of other things to see, including a lot more nude Italian men in the form of marble sculptures. They really were amazing, but David did top the lot. He was massive and so perfect in every way and the expression on his face is so mysterious. It was hard to peel our eyes off him, but we braved the cold rainy weather (what the heck? this is supposed to be sunny Italy) to see some art and history in the museums then walked to a lookout to see how big Florence really was. On Saturday night we decided to test out the nightlife at a nightclub after having some dinner. Sounds simple, but in reality getting a good cheap feed on a Saturday night was near impossible. There were so many queues and after trawling the streets for ages getting hungrier and grumpier we scoffed down an expensive meal at almost 11pm. This was after Beth had been basically sexually assaulted by a crazy Italian guy who groped her on the street yelling "Ooh, Americano". We weren't sure what was more insulting; being considered American or being considered a sex symbol. We then met 2 Italians at a gelati stand who walked us to a nearby club. We weren't really that impressed with it, so we walked to another club called Babylon and this is where we really got a taste for how Italians party. The dancefloor was crazy. There were half naked DJs on the podium and other guys in nothing but jocks and sunglasses dancing next to them, while the barpeople sprayed everyone with champagne at regular intervals. In fact, the bartenders were so drunk I managed to score quite a few drinks for "free". After getting quite a lot of Italian male attention, Beth and I decided to escape back to our hostel before we got groped again.

The next day we had a stressful morning dealing with banks and phone companies (both of which are evil) before finally boarding a train to Siena, which was gorgeous. There was a major soccer game going on there, so the streets were eerily empty of tourists and people, which was a nice change. Crowds of people who obviously couldn't get tickets to the game were sitting on fences and at the gates trying to watch. At one point people went absolutely crazy with flares and cheering, jumping up and down. I'm pretty sure their team scored a goal. I have never seen Aussies so passionate about football, it was contagious. So in better spirits we walked around the stony streets of Siena with burnt brown houses jutting every which way and a big cathedral on the hill.

But yesterday Beth and I parted ways as I was scheduled to meet a family who live in an old farmhouse in Umbria and Beth was off to Rome. I am going to help them with some gardening and entertain their two daughters for 2 weeks while they give me a place to stay and some food. Sounds good to me. Now if only the weather would clear up, it will be just like a scene from Under the Tuscan Sun (technically I'm in Umbria, but it's right on the border with Tuscany).

I will tell you all about it next time. Now I'm off to bed.
Buona notte,
Megan

The Trouble With Paris...

Have you ever had that feeling that even though you might be miles away from home, you still feel like you're competely at home? Well I was starting to feel that way after two weeks in Vorstenbosch. The sun had shined his smiling face on my visit so the Spring weather was beautiful for exploring (and maybe sometimes getting lost in...) the area by bike. My relatives are also possibly the most hospitable people in the world and they made sure my days were filled with plenty of things to do and people to meet. I stayed around long enough to see my cousin Eefje's beautiful baby girl, meet an old guy at a farmhouse museum who knew my Opa, celebrate Queen's Day and I think meet almost everyone in the neighbourhood. I certainly met nearly all the Dortmans in the area, including the guy who owned "Dortmans Music Store" who claimed we all came from a French soldier during the time of Napoleon.

Now, I have been quoted in the past as saying "I would rather have a hernia than have a baby" but I have to admit when I saw Eefje and her husband Tom smiling down at the cute little baby girl they had created, I may have found just a little hint of maternal feeling stir deep down inside. Only a little. Don't get too excited mum, I still find them a little scary (my mum is totally jealous of the new Opa and Oma).

Another party worth sticking around for was Queen's Day or Koningendag as they call it. Basically, it's the Queen of Holland's birthday, but no one really gives a hoot about that because it's a day off which here means let's chuck some big stages in all the cities in Holland with DJs and just let everyone drink on the street for a day. All while wearing as much orange as possible (it's like their version of green and gold). It was crazy. I went to Eindhoven, a relatively big city where there was just a sea of orange people drinking and dancing in the city centre and every street was full too. Every trip to the toilet was an adventure... you needed to allow at least 45 minutes, because the queues were so long. At least guys could use the he pees which were located right in the middle of the street. I'm not sure if underage drinking is a problem here, I mean kids can drink at 16 years old anyway, but I'm sure I saw younger cruising the streets with cans of beer. I tried out some local cuisine such as oliebollen (a familiar favourite from home), krokette (also same as home) and the Frickendel Speciaal, but I've been assured that I don't want to know what's in it (sorta like our sausages I guess...). In Amsterdam some of the street cleaners were going on strike the day after Queen's Day. After seeing the mess on the streets, I can undertstand why. I have never seen so much rubbish in my life, just piles of it everywhere.

Now, my relatives Jan and Ine are so hospitable, they even organised a ride for me to Belgium, tour guide included. Who needs Lonely Planet? It was actually the son of the people who live across the road who was selling a house he owned in Gent, Belgium. He is also the brother of my brother's ex-girlfriend. And he offered me a lift to Gent, accommodation at his apartment there where four students live and to show me around the city the next day. So we hopped in his car and drove the one and a half hours to oh, another country. Crazy. There I stayed at his house where I met the four uni students and they were the loveliest girls and helped me to find my way around Gent. It is a really old city with big cathedrals and old buildings and a big medieval castle smack bang in the middle of the city. It was nicer even than Bruges I think, because the next day I went to Bruges and it was a tourist circus, which kind of took away the charm of it all. But I bought some delicious Belgian chocolate and cruised the cobblestone streets anyway. The girls also introduced me to a game called 'Molkee'. All you Dortmans at home would love this game, it reminds me a little of Kubb. I will have to get my hands on a set. So we were in the park eating frites and drinking red wine and playing Molkee and it was fun. So that was Belgium.

But another day, another country and Paris was calling. Paris is not the dreamy city everyone thinks it is though. It has some great history and the Notre Dame Cathedral and The Louvre were amazing, but it's not like a scene from Amelie. Actually it is just another big dirty city with not so friendly people and lots of tourists. But still a lot to see. I hired a bike and rode around town only once riding on the wrong side of the road and once getting burped right in my face as I rode past. If I wasn't so disgusted with how filthy the city was already I might have laughed. The Louvre was too much to take in, so overwhelming. The Mona Lisa wasn't even the best; she was surrounded by people and you couldn't even get close. I liked the sculptures the best. The Arc de Triomphe was cool, but walking back along the Champs Elysees alone at night was a mistake... I kept getting hassled by Africans asking me to go to a discotecque. I had to get brutal to shake one of them off who followed me for ten minutes. The Notre Dame was beautiful and the view from the tower (which I queued for like two hours for) was great, especially as the sun was setting. I saw the Eiffel Tower but I couldn't be bothered climbing it after waiting in the queues at the Notre Dame towers.

Now I am catching a train tomorrow to Nice along the French Riviera where I hope to do some star spotting at the Cannes Film Festival. Hello paparazzi!

Megan xo

I Amsterdam

I missed my first flight. And hopefully it will be the last. After waving goodbye to Jacqui and Sam at the border of Malaysia and Singapore, I thought the 3 hours I had allowed myself to get to Changi Airport in Singapore was a pretty generous margin. Turns out I was wrong. The bus took an eon to get there, and then about ten eons to get to the train station. I then had to catch a train, fretting all the way only to arrive at the airport at 10:15pm (my flight was at 10:55) at which time I had to catch a shuttle bus to another terminal. Running through the airport with 18kg on my back and probably about 6kg on my front I arrived breathless at the desk only to be told "Sorry, that flight closed about 30 minutes ago". Major bummer. But the ladies at the desk nicely arranged for me to get on the midnight flight to Heathrow (no extra charge) and after a 5 hour layover I arrived in Amsterdam, city of canals, coffee shops and one other thing starting with c...

I was set to have an early night, I really was. After roughly a 13 hour flight (not including the layover) and not so much sleep and another case of cankles (why does this always happen to me on long flights...) I thought it inevitable I would have an early night. But then I met these friendly Texans who insisted on buying me Jagerbombs and beers all night and of course who can refuse a friendly Texan (they probably have a gun...) so I had a massive night discovering Amsterdam. Yes, I went to a "coffee shop". No I didn't have any coffee. Yes, I walked through the red light district. No, I did not particularly enjoy seeing beautiful, young girls standing in red-lit windows with nothing but underwear on. There was something a little unsettling about girls being put on display in shop windows like merchandise. Not cool.

So after my big night out, I was wrecked for the next two. So I hired a bike and did my own little tour of Amsterdam's cobblestone streets, canals and museums. All the buildings are so old and quaint, tall skinny brick things poised on the edge of canals crossed by arched bridges, it's everything I imagined a European city to be. I have had more art education since I arrived in Holland than in all my years at school and university. I have seen paintings from the best that Holland has to offer, from Vermeer (yes, I saw the Girl with the Pearl Earring and she was more beautiful than Scarlett Johanssen) to Van Gogh to Rembrandt. And I've already had a taste of the European male attention... just walking down the street, guys will call out to you on their scooters or just strike up random conversations with you outside shops, hoping it will lead to you spending the whole night at a bar with them... this doesn't happen to me in Australia. Well, apart from wolf whistling from construction workers... I think guys here are just a little too confident. It's an expensive place though, I think I spent more in a few days in Amsterdam than in two weeks in Malaysia.

So after exploring every nook and cranny of Amsterdam I hopped on a train down to Rotterdam, which is the modern sister of Amsterdam. The whole place was bombed flat in the war, so now they have gone crazy with all sorts of weird architecture. I stayed in these "cube Houses" which were basically big Rubiks Cube looking buildings poised diagonally in the air. I did a day trip to Den Haag (The Hague) which was also a nice quaint old city with the palace where Queen Beatrix lives and some more art museums. Everyone was outside drinking al fresco, as it was a beautiful Spring day. How very European.

So the plan after Rotterdam was to head down to Vorstenbosch where my relatives live. Then I get this email from my crazy cousin Paul saying he was in Amsterdam; I didn't even realise was in Europe, let alone Amsterdam. Naturally I couldn't let this opportunity slide, so I went back to Amsterdam for another crazy night. The place was packed with people catching international trains after the volcanic eruption in Iceland. Nature wins again.

Saturday, I catch a train to Den Bosch to see my relatives. One hour on the train is all it takes (to pretty much go from one end of Holland to the other, haha... well almost) and I am met at the station by my very pregnant cousin Eefje. Her baby is due in just over a week. I arrived to a warm welcome from my relatives Jan and Ine, with the assurance that I really will only be staying for a week or two, and had my first delicious home cooked meal in a while. So now I have been doing a round robin of dinners and outings with relatives and various other people in the neighbourhood. What a hard life! The countryside here is very picturesque and green, but it's not like Australia where you can drive for 2 hours and not see a town, there is a town every 2 minutes. The people here are so lovely, everyone knows everyone and they are so welcoming.

Yesterday Jan took me on a tour of Dinther, the place where my Oma lived and where my dad was born. The old farmhouse they lived in is still there, albeit a little changed (it's all renovated inside and the stable is now a car dealer). For those of you who don't know, a quick rundown on family history: my Opa and his wife lived in Dinther with seven children. During World War II, a bomb meant for the Germans exploded in the farmhouse and killed his wife and 3 of their children. My Opa then married my Oma and they lived there for another few years (during which time they had my dad) and then when he was 4, they migrated to Australia for a better life.

So we knocked on the door and the nice people who live there let us come inside and look around. The spookiest part was going under the house into the cellar... you can just imagine the family huddling under there while bombs exploded above ground. They then made a fatal decision to run to the bomb shelter in the backyward, which was when the bomb hit. The bomb shelter is filled in now, but it was surreal being there in the very spot. We then went to the church where my Oma got married and next door was a cemetery where the grave of my Opa's first wife and three kids were buried.

The Catholic church just made me sad. People used to put so much value in religion, as you can see from the massive amount of time and money they have put into their places of worship. I'm not saying the size of the church is a measure of your faith, but it was obviously a big part of their daily lives back in the day. You can't go anywhere here without hearing the church bells ring or where you don't have a view of the church steeple. It was the centre of every town. But every day in the paper here there is talk about the demise of the Catholic church. Not many people actually attend church here, especially not young people and a lot of the churches are closing down. I guess religion isn't so relevant to people any more. I don't find the Catholic church all that relevant either, but man they built some fantastic buildings and funded some amazing artwork. I almost feel like we're coming to the end of an era. I just hope that God doesn't get lost in the confusion.

I visited my first Dutch school on Monday, as I went to Jan's class (10-12 year olds) to talk about Australia. They bombarded me with questions for one hour, which was fun, especially ones like "Do you have a boyfriend?" and "Do people eat cactuses in Australia?" and "Do kangaroos really box?" Haha. Tomorrow I go to another school where they are learning about Australia and want me to talk about it. I'm like a touring circus act.

Today my cousins Ilse and Mieke took me on a tour of Den Bosch, an old 17th century town near here. We did a boat tour of the canals that go underneath the city, did a historical tour and I got to eat the famous Bosche Bolle that everyone keeps talking about. It was a delicious combination of chocolate, cream, custard and pastry. Lekker! Then I went to the windmill in Dinther and got some obligatory photos of a windmill in Holland. Come on, it's like getting a photo of a koala in Australia - it has to be done!

Trying (very hard) to learn some Dutch while I'm here, but every time I try to make a g sound (you know, the sound like you have some phlegm stuck in the back of your throat) I sound ridiculous. But I will persist!

Groetjes! (YOU try pronouncing it - it's easy, [phlegm sound ]+[rolllling rrr sound] + oot + yez)
Megan

Borneo

I'm just going to say from the start, 6 days was not nearly enough time in Borneo. Beth, Jacq and I flew into a hole of a town called Miri without a plan and a purpose and from the start it was our downfall. It seemed everything we wanted to do involved booking way in advance, getting a permit or paying ridiculous airfares.

When we gave the name of the backpackers we had booked in Miri to our taxi driver he dropped us off outside a bustling pub with loud music blaring. Next door were some stairs. We went up the stairs to find a dingy backpackers infested with cats and we were greeted warmly by the Chinese proprietor with "Shoes off please!" After a late night trying to book the first flight out of Miri, we went to bed only to be kept up until 3am by the pumping music coming from the pub downstairs. Beth had to stuff her ears with toilet paper and all we could do was laugh because of the crazy situation.

So not a fantastic start. The next morning we also spent the whole day travelling - a flight to Kota Kinabalu and a nail-biting, gut-churning 6 hour drive to Sepilok. The roads were very windy and wet and our bus driver clearly was impatient, as he would overtake around bends, pretty much anywhere he wanted and tailgated and honked anyone that got in his way. He even overtook the bus that left for the same destination 30 minutes before us. We arrived in Sepilok to a beautiful oasis of a place hidden in the bush with friendly staff and massive dorms. We had a few much needed beers then fell asleep to the sound of jungle insects and animals coming through the mesh walls.

The next day we went down to the Sepilok Orang Utan Rehabilitation Centre where they rescue orphaned orang utans from the wild and raise them in the reserve until they set them free in the wild. They were gorgeous, and after feeding time one cheeky monkey dropped down onto the boardwalk right in front of us and stole someone's water bottle. The rangers had to lock all the buildings so he didn't go inside and trash the place. That afternoon we went to Sandakan for dinner on the bay before a very interesting taxi ride home with a driver who made us laugh, offended us then nearly killed us by overtaking at the wrong time. Crazy man.

The next day we reluctantly left our jungle haven to hop on another bus to Bilit where we had booked a tour for a 3 day cruise down the Kinabatangan River where a lot of cool animals hang out. Unfortunately this is because surrounding the jungle on all sides are evil money-making palm plantations that have confined the animals to the thin strips of jungle still standing by the river, which is great for snap-happy tourists like us, but sucks for the animals who would probably like to have their homes back. It makes me think humans are the worst animals of them all. But we did get to see some really unique wildlife such as proboscis monkeys (ugliest monkeys ever, they have pot bellies and massive noses), hornbills, a freshwater croc (when it slid into the water and disappeared right near our boat I thought we were all going to die like in that movie Rogue), a western tarsier (little possum-like nocturnal creature which looks a bit like a gremlin/furby; its head rotates 360 degrees which makes it look like something out of the Exorcist), and too many species of bird and macaques to mention. It was amazing. And every cruise on the river was all the more entertaining thanks to an old British couple who reminded me of Hyacinth and Richard Bucket from Keeping up Appearances. An example of the type of thing you could expect from these two - during a night hike, the woman grabbed a young guy she had just met and said "Come here, I need a tripod!" and rested her camera on his shoulder to take a photo of a sleeping bird. Thus she had her arms around his neck to keep the camera still. So Jacqui says "Oh, was she taking a photo? I thought she was getting a leech off his neck or something!" to which the woman's husband replied "She's the leech". Classic.

After the tour we eventually caught a bus back to Kota Kinabalu after a run-in with some crazy entrepeneurs at the bus stop who felt they were entitled to charge us extra for the bus because they "helped" us to catch it. Beth described the bus ride as "being stuck in a portaloo on wheels for 6 hours" because the bus had a toilet which emitted some pungent smells every time someone went. Then that night we went out for dinner at a Chinese place where Beth knocked a whole plate of bok choy on the ground. Considering we were the only whities in the place we were already getting funny looks, but you could imagine what it was like after that. Hilarious. Beth has been an endless source of amusement the whole trip because of her clumsiness. She's always bound to trip over her own feet or knock the runniest plate of food into her lap/the ground.

So now we're back in Johor Bahru. Tomorrow Beth leaves for Laos, and I leave for the Netherlands. I am sort of ready to leave Asia now... although I have been here for 3 months, frankly I am getting a little over rice and the delightful aroma you get every time you pass a dirty drain on the street. I will miss the cheap, delicious food and the friendly people and scenery. But Europe, bring it on.

Until next time,

Meg

Malaysia

I flew into Singapore about a week ago and after a long day that involved train + shuttle bus (because I got off at the wrong terminal) + plane + train + bus + bus (because I got off at the wrong stop) I finally made it to Johor Bahru to see both my sisters and my brother waiting for me. It was about 9pm, so we all went down to a hawker street food place and I had my first introduction to Malaysian food... in case you didn't know, Malaysian food and drink is delicious and at $2 for a decent sized meal, you can afford to eat everything on the menu.

Johor Bahru is quite a large city in Malaysia and compared to other cities I've been to in South East Asia, quite developed. Everyone says hello as you pass and most people are quite friendly, even the taxi drivers for a change. That weekend the 4 of us decided to spend the weekend in Tioman Islands, which is a 3 hour bus and 2 hour ferry from here. But we got a taste of Malay "island" time here, because the ferry left 2 hours late and ours was the last stop. But we saw a nice sunset as we came in and had a nice meal and game of 500 by the beach. The next day we did a hike through the jungle to Monkey Bay to do some snorkelling. The hike was fairly steep and after 5 minutes we were all dripping with sweat. Thongs was not a good choice. So we turfed the thongs and stripped down to bathers like real jungle people and made the two hour walk. It was definitely worth it - we came upon a glistening, deserted beach full of colourful fish and coral and a few turtles. We snorkelled for a few hours before embarking on the journey back, followed by monkeys. It was just getting dark when we finally got back and we were all exhausted.

We have spent the last few days back in Johor Bahru, sampling the local cuisine and shopping. We also spent a day in Singapore where we rode on the largest observation wheel in the world, ate the best Indian meal I have ever eaten in Little India (which was almost enough to convert me to vegetarianism... almost), did some shopping on Orchard Road, then did a Night Safari at the zoo. Another exhausting day.

Yesterday was Sam's birthday, so when he finished uni we did a tour of the hospital with him (massive place, pretty old and run down though) then went out for dinner at a seafood restaurant on stilts over the water. Then we came home and had some cake and watched a movie. The other night we also heard a massive BANG as we were sitting in Sam's apartment and rushed out to the balcony to see a cloud of grey smoke rising in the air a few kms from the apartment. We weren't sure what it was (Beth: "You don't get bombs here do you?) but the next day we were in a taxi and drove past a burnt out oil tanker which explained that.

So tomorrow Jacqui, Beth and I fly to Borneo to do some jungle treks and see some orang utans. Sam will probably be grateful to have a break from us for the week, as we have made a fair mess in his apartment and our 3 strong personalities have sometimes clashed... I hope we don't kill each other on this week in Borneo...

Love Meg... xo