Vlog: A Jeep Rental & Food for Elephants on Ko Phangan

Ko Phangan? Why not, I say!

Click through the image above or click here for a little glimpse into our ridiculous times on Ko Phangan. Hold the judgement, please. 😉

Paradise in Malaysia: Pillow-white Sand, Wheelbarrow Taxis, Fire Dancers, and Snorkeling like Sex

Pulau Perhentian. In the turquoise waters of Malaysia’s northeastern coast, these tiny islands are postcard paradise. Awash with pillow white sand and dotted with swaying palms, Malaysia’s hidden gem shines bright in the tropical sun.
Now remember. It wasn’t exactly a breeze to get here. No. It was not.

Take a gander here if you need a reminder, but otherwise suffice it to know that we are exhausted, and quite comically delirious after our 5am wake-up call on the overnight bus from Johor Bahtu. We’re hungry. We don’t exactly look hot. I, for one, haven’t brushed my teeth in two days. We’re still wearing the same clothes we were wearing with the animals at the Singapore Zoo. And we’re probably very, very smelly.

And now imagine this:

Yes, we’re stinky. And yes we have extraordinarily awful breath. But we’re here. And that, my friend, is a very wonderful thing.

We walked around to find a place to stay with our new Chinese friends by the incredibly awesome names of Wee Wee, Kit, and Jelly (I told you they were awesome 😉 ). Eventually the 6 of us settled on the Lemongrass bungalows by the beach.

I spent a couple of extremely relaxing (some might say lazy) mornings in our hammock on the front porch, doing absolutely nothing… the sun peeking through the leafy palm at our doorstep, looking out on the grassy lawn where we played a bit of kick-around soccer with the locals. Our bungalow had a mosquito net – and call me ridiculous, but – I’ve always wanted to sleep under one of those! We also walked to Coral Bay on the other side of the island – it took us 15 minutes to cross at the narrowest part of the island, and when we got there it was pretty much exactly like our side of the island, only way-less awesome. 😉 We bought postcards, Andy broke a chair, and we moved on.

As the sun set, little wooden tables, a foot off the sand and surrounded by palm-woven mats, emerged on the beach, interspersed with fire lamps as island music blew across the darkening sand. As the moon rose (you’ll have to ask Melissa about this, she swears on her life she saw the most incredible “Moon Rise” that night, whatever that is – for the record I don’t believe her), the fire dancers came out. So we took a seat at one of the minature tables, ordered a few Tiger lagers, watched the dancers and shot the breeze with some incredible strangers who were soon to become great friends.

One of these new friends, Daniel from Salzburg, has been living and working on this island as a dive instructor for over a year. His family back home thinks he has been possessed by demons – the only “reasonable explanation” for why he has found new life on this remote island of peninsular Malaysia. Hearing these stories made me appreciate how lucky I am to have family and friends who think what I’m doing is wonderful – and not the work of some satanic forces. 😉

On our last night on the island, after a late dinner at a small beachside restaurant, we clambered down from a treetop hut onto a sand trail, and running down the path pushing a wheelbarrow, this smiling Malaysian man looks at us and asks, “Taxi?”, innately serious and without breaking his stride. It was so perfectly out of context that we all broke into spontaneous laughter.

We also shared what was mine and Jo’s first “Thai bucket”… of monkey juice. Needless to say, we were far from bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed the next morning. 😉

When we finally left the island, it was by boat that we arrived in Kuala Besut – a small port town on the east coast of Malaysia. It was here that we met some of the most memorable locals of our journey thus far: It was after 8pm and we were walking down the side of the dark road in search of some snacks for our upcoming overnight bus. These two little Malaysian girls came out onto their doorstep and waved at us as we passed their home. We stopped to say hello and they told us they were 7 years old (fairly decent level of English, if you ask me!). Their mother? older sister? was perched on the curb under an umbrella, cooking something on a tiny stove outside what must have been their front door. It was raining, and she beckoned for us to come over. She then offered us some of what she was cooking – it was incredible! Squid, seasoned to absolute perfection.And then the boy, a little, round-faced and smiley thing, asked, “May I please have your facebook address?” How cute, right? You can’t make this stuff up.

And as we left, the girls stood there, on their tip-toes, extending their little arms to their lips and blowing us big kisses, “Mmmwah!”

I still smile every time I think of this wonderful happy family.

It’s the little things, isn’t it? 🙂

Overland from Singapore to Malaysia – A Race Againgst Time with Totally Inappropriate Girl, First Time Squatter, Blue Ticket Bus Queen, and Saviour Man

The Perhentians: Malaysia’s postcard islands. We’d heard about them from our Malaysian friend who we’d met in Seoul and crossed paths with in Singapore… she’s awesome. She said if we were looking for relaxing on an island whilst in Malaysia, the Perhentians were it.

So we decide to take a night bus up the coast (the Perhentians are on the northeast part of Malaysia, way up near the border with Thailand). To get there, we have to cross the Singapore/Malaysia border. Our bus is at 9pm and we have all day to get there. No problem, right?

We pack our bags and leave our Beary Good Hostel. We head for the Singapore Zoo, because we hear that this zoo is one of the best in the world (most of the animals get free roam, and a couple of times we were walking the pathways and had monkeys jumping around the trees over our heads, rather nonchalantly). I, myself, had a few heart palpitations… that Balinese ape from Indonesia has made me rather skeptical of monkeys of late.

Anyway. We finish at the zoo, and we sort of sluggishly decide to start making our way to Malaysia. So we leave and board a bus for the Malaysian border (Bus 950 from Woodlands on the Singapore MRT – yes, the abbreviation for this is S-M-R-T, and no, it doesn’t get much more awesome than that). We’re given these tissue-paper thin Blue Tickets that I’m pretty certain I immediately throw away because nothing that insubstantial can be worth anything substantial, right? By the time we get to Woodlands, it’s about 6:30pm. We’re already worried we’re running a little tight on time.

We get off 950 at the border. Upstairs to customs. Wait in line, passport stamp, we depart Singapore successfully. Back downstairs to find a bus, the place is a zoo, we stand in the Yellow Bus line bound for Johor Bahtu for awhile because it looks like it’s the line that most people have chosen to stand in, and to be honest we have no idea whatsoever where we’re supposed to be, so we may as well wait somewhere and at least look like we know what we’re doing.

Melis leaves her bag and goes to ask someone, comes back 15 minutes later and tells us we’re in the wrong line and we better find those flimsy blue tissue-paper-thin tickets we were given on the Singapore side of the border, because we’ll need those Blue Tickets again to board the 950 bus, which apparently we have to do one more time. We leave the Yellow Bus line that we’ve now spent almost ½ hour waiting in, and when the 950 bus comes, Jo and I have to pay again, because obviously we threw away those stupid tickets, while Blue Ticket Bus Queen walks on for free… smart bitch.

On the 950 for 10 minutes as it brings us to the Malaysian side of the border. We go upstairs again and get in line for immigration (there are 2 sides to this border crossing, and it’s cutting into our time rather unpleasantly, thank you very much). This line is moving slower than the Singapore one did, and when we finally get to the front, the immigration officer asks us, “where is white paper?” And points back to where we came from.

Out of line again. Off to fill out our white papers. Running now. Sweating almost.

Complete the papers. Back in line. Stamped successfully. Downstairs to find a bus that will take us to Laikan, which is where we’re supposed to catch another bus to Kota Bahtu (which will take us to the Perhentians, or at least we hope). It’s an overnight bus and we’re seriously running out of time now.

Ask a nice lady we pass while running down the escalator what bus we’re supposed to take. She directs us to Bus 170. We need to pay the bus driver in Malaysian Ringgit, AWESOME, all we have are Singaporean Dollars.

It’s 8:15pm. We have 45 minutes to get all the way to Laikan, find the bus we want, buy a ticket, and board. And to do each of these things, we’re going to need Malaysian Ringgit.

I drop my backpack and leave it with the girls, then book it as fast as I can towards somewhere, anywhere, away from here that might have an ATM.

I’m told there are NO ATM’s anywhere nearby. Only money changers, who are still far away, but I don’t have a choice and I’m running again, all the way back to where we came from, back to the passport stamping area and down to “City Centre”, past tons of slow-walking Muslims who I’m sure are judging me because I’m wearing a tank top, showing my shoulders and probably far too much cleavage than is appropriate, considering I’m running and sweating and at the best of times it’s hard to keep those things under control. Really wishing I was wearing a normal t-shirt about now, but there’s no time for wishful thinking. We need to catch this bus.

Here I am, Totally Inappropriate, and I get lost. I have no idea where I’m going, but I’ve been sprinting now for 10 minutes and where I am is starting to look less and less like an immigration control and more and more like a Muslim city. Then I end up in a huge mall, escalators everywhere, bright lights, people staring.

“The bank machine? Level B2.” Where the fuck is level B2?

Booking it down the escalators because I have to choose a direction and ‘down’ seems appropriate. Top speed, elbowing people out of my way as I run blindly down the escalators, literally blind for the sweat in my eyes.

At the bottom level, ask another random stranger “where the hell is the bank machine!?” and he tells Totally Inappropriate to go straight, all the way to the end, past the elevators and down a small corridor, out on the other side and you’ll find a Maybank, he starts to spell it for me but I don’t have time, I hear him yelling after me, “yellow colour!”.

Through the hallway of elevators and down a narrow passage I never would have seen, I find Maybank.

What a huge relief.

I get to the machine, throw my card in…

And realize I have no idea how much a Malaysian Ringgit is.

Do I take out 5 Ringgit, or 50,000 Ringgit?

I ask the guy next to me and he’s a Quiet Talker and I don’t understand a thing he’s trying to say, I’m about to punch him in the face.

I settle on 1,000 Ringgit. Hit enter. And a massive wad of cash is dispensed into my shaking fingers. I try and stuff my huge stack of money into my wallet but it barely fits, and there are a ton of Malaysians staring at me and my money and now I’m not only Totally Inappropriate, I’m also Totally Rich and Totally Freaked Out.

So I turn on my heel and sprint out of the bank. Now it’s a race against time as I try to navigate my way back… running as fast as I can, back up through the mall, up to the top floor by accident, back down, past the cab drivers, back to the immigration building that looks like a casino, and all of a sudden, a lineup with a baggage scanner and a sign:

“Welcome to Singapore”

Awesome! Ahh!

I try to bypass. I’m yelled at. I’m definitely panting at this point, and I can’t see at all now for the sweat in my eyes. Not sure what words manage to escape my mouth, but it probably sounded something like this:

“I.. with the.. needed money.. bank machine.. bus! (tap my invisible watch) – no time! already here.. ahh!”

I suppose I was able to communicate some level of panic because they saw my passport briefly and let me go –

Back up the escalators on the immigration side, another official-looking lady is trying to stop me, in retrospect she was probably trying to help me but I DON’T HAVE TIME, doesn’t she understand I’m out of time?!

She lets me go, back to Bus 170, the girls are waiting, there’s a nice Malaysian man standing with them – when I tell them where I went he can’t believe it – shakes his head a bit, there are no bank machines anywhere nearby, haha.

Apparently we’d missed 3 buses while I ran.

It’s 8:40pm.

Nice Saviour of a Man says he can drive us to Laikan!

And we’re off, dodging cars and bikes over 8 lane highways and busy overpasses, walking on the shoulder of the road as vehicles rip by, inches from our feet.. Saviour says “wait here, I’ll get the car and meet you – I can run faster. You rest.”

And he’s off, and he shows up in his little car and we pile in, he’s driving fast and we’re there! 8:55pm and we’re at Laikan! He parks and we run, some officials are trying to yell at us as we run to where the tickets are, but Saviour Man redirects us and tells the men to be quiet, says to us “not that way, this way safer”.

And we’re running to the Transsnational Bus Ticket window and a million men are trying to sell us tickets, and Saviour Man tells them in Bahasa Malay to shut up, we’re not interested! They leave us alone.

At the ticket window, Saviour gets our tickets for us (the lady doesn’t speak any English, it’s a miracle we have Saviour there to help).. he pays an extra few Ringgit out of his own pocket in order to give the lady exact change..

The ticket printer “is broken”, it’s 9pm now.. we have no choice but to wait.. Saviour heads with Melis and Jo to the bathroom – it’s Jo’s first squatter toilet experience and she’s got her giant backpack on and she’s on her rag, doesn’t know what to do, can’t balance, we’re in a hurry, ha!

Meanwhile I’m standing with the bags, am approached while waiting by guys trying to sell me tickets, Saviour shows up and tells them to get lost.

Finally the printer works, we have our tickets, and now we’re sprinting to our bus, it’s well after 9pm. The bus is still there! Bus driver looks at our tickets and shakes his head, we have no idea what he’s saying because he’s speaking Malay.. Saviour to the rescue – “you have to get off bus before destination stop – you must alight at Jertes after 10 hours”. Hugs for Saviour and he won’t accept money – we wanted to show our appreciation! – more hugs for Saviour – on the bus, wave goodbye.

We made it.

We fucking made it.

Welcome to Malaysia.

Pig Leg Soup & Dom Perignon: This is Singapore

“The open road is a beckoning, a strangeness, a place where a man can lose himself.” – William Least Heat Moon

Over the course of September 25th 2010, three girls arrived in succession at the Singapore Changi airport. From different airlines, from different parts of the world, with nothing but backpacks on their shoulders, the three friends met in this tiny corner of the globe… Singapore was never on our radar. But we are so happy we came here.

Hawker stalls selling everything from super sweet coffee to pig leg soup and chicken feet stew, Singapore is sensory overload. The Hindu temples of Little India, the beautiful women swathed in saris and, just down the street, Chinese buddhists are paying respects at the magnificent Buddhist temple. The mid-autumn lantern festival lights up the twisting alleys of Chinatown, while the friendly shop merchants allow you to peruse their goods without pressuring you to buy anything…

Sentosa Island, where the beaches have been created by man, who trucked the white sand from other areas and created a landscape unfamiliar to this port city, but beautiful in its creation. The waves on one of these fake beaches, simulated by a machine, allow beginner surfers to practice their skills. In the distance, freighters on the horizon.

We put on our best backpacking clothes. It’s the Formula-1 weekend (coincidentally enough), and the city is abuzz. On our way to find the casino (which looks like a giant ship in the sky, how rad is that), we wander into the Ritz Carleton to use the washroom.  On the way out, we decide to walk through the (very posh) bar. Confident but for the flip flops on our feet, we barely make it 5 feet before we are approached.

“What would you think of a man wearing red pants?” And then we are chatting with a group of ladies and gents from all over the globe. Before we know it, we were asked if we wanted a drink. Erm, of course we do.

“Champagne? It’s Dom.” As in Dom Perignon. As in $3,000 a bottle. As in, I’ve never held a glass of liquid worth more than my first year’s tuition before. As in I don’t know how to react to this. As in, “can we not drink this, and instead use the money to pay for our backpacking trip?” Haha. Anyway, we drank it. And then they brought out the Moet. And then we were talking to Rene Arnoux, F-1 Legend and veteran of over 12 seasons. And then they asked if we were staying in the hotel. Haaahaha… right. In the Ritz! On a shoestring budget!

I’m an unemployed traveling hobo.

And we are staying in a 12 bed dorm room at A Beary Good Hostel (it’s teddy-bear themed). Not the Ritz, but close. 😉

We decided not to tell them the details of where we were staying. Best let them keep believing we’re worthy of the Dom. 😉

Needless to say, we never found the casino. But the next night, our good friend Chew Chan (a Malaysian girl working in Singapore who we met in Korea) took us to her humble abode. Six 50-storey buildings connected by a sky walkway, she took us for a stroll over the skyline of Singapore at night.

And anyone who says only cheap champagne gives you hangovers never drank the amount of Dom Perignon and Moet that we consumed on Saturday night. 😉

Globetrotting: The Luxury of Our Generation

“What I find is that you can do almost anything or go almost anywhere, if you’re not in a hurry.”

– Paul Theroux

One of the greatest fortunes of our generation is the incredible ability we have to do anything, to go anywhere on this planet and to see for ourselves the world around us. We have an incomparable luxury to travel, one that our parents and grandparents never had the pleasure of knowing.  The world is quite literally at our fingertips. It doesn’t take three weeks and months of preparation to cross the Atlantic anymore. It takes hours. With a passion for adventure and a little taste for the unknown, any of us can hop on a plane for the other side of the world. It doesn’t even require a whole lot of planning, indeed, some of the best adventures I’ve had have been the ones that just sort of happened, without any regard for plan or itinerary. Taking off to The Unknown requires little more than an internet connection and a valid passport. The stuff that gets in the way is the stuff we can control – our jobs, our families & friends, our schedules. In fact, sometimes the sheer ease of hopping a plane is so, well, easy, that it’s often overlooked. You and I could be, for the sake of argument, in Iceland tonight and Zambia tomorrow. The hardest part of leaving is making the decision to leave. After that, it’s easy. Forging for yourself months of travels or a new life 16 time-zones away is so miraculously effortless that preparation is often all but trivial. You just have to be ready to roll with the punches.

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

– Mark Twain

So I don’t know about you, but I find Siberia fascinating. Maybe it’s those funny fur hats. Or perhaps it’s because their lands thwarted Hitler’s blitzkrieg. It could be because I don’t know many people who have been there, so my knowledge is based on out-dated history books (and crazy history teachers – “The Kulaks were sent to the Gulags” – thanks, Mr. Torres). It might be the cryptic Cyrillic alphabet with all those funny-looking backwards letters. Or maybe it’s the fact that the application process makes me want to tear my hair out. Whatever the reason, I’ve decided to go. : )

I figured the best way to see the country would be overland, by rail. So the plan is to start in Beijing and spend some time in Mongolia before moving north into Siberia and west, eventually, to Moscow and St Petersburg. Then comes Latvia, and after that, London. And after London comes The Unknown, again (which is, in many ways, my favourite part :)). Anyway, I have a bit of time before my scheduled departure from Beijing, so I’m just going to relax and move about on Southeast Asia’s beaches for awhile.

Here is a basic route map of where I kind of expect to be over the next few months. Only two dates are set in stone, and that is a) my flight to Singapore, and b) my departure from China for Mongolia. What happens in between is all part of the adventure. 🙂

Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, China, Mongolia, Russia, Latvia, London and The Unknown. At least, that’s the plan. We’ll see how it actually unfolds in the next few months. 😉

Vlog: Seoraksan & Beach Camping in Sokcho

Click through the image above or click here for a video of our time spent on Seoraksan & camping on Korea’s east coast.

A lil’ love in Jeju-do: Korea’s erotic themepark

Oh, hello there.

If you think this post is going to be about my recent sexual encounters, well… you’re right.

I’ve had a lot of action recently. What can I say? It’d been awhile, and I needed to do something about it.

So Melissa and I booked a trip to Jeju-do, South Korea’s hidden gem, the “Honeymoon Destination,” the “Hawaii” of Korea.

We flew out from Seoul on a Friday night after work. We left around, oh, 7:30pm. We arrived in Jeju (also known as Cheju) at about 9? I think? And the flights are relatively cheap. Even in peak season, which is, erm, now. I think we paid about $160 for a return flight. Not bad for a trip to “Hawaii.”

Now, in perfect Melissa and Kristina style, it was pouring rain when we arrived (isn’t it always?). Didn’t matter. We had an awesome evening watching World Cup games in a small and delicious galbi joint near our friend’s place, which is where we were fortunate enough to crash for the weekend.

The next morning our fabulous host was off to race up the Jeju volcano while us lazy-bums slept in. When we (eventually) awoke, our first order of business was to get some lovin’.

And lovin’ we got. In every possible inanimate definition of the word.

“Jeju Loveland breaks the traditional taboos surrounding love (and there are a lot of them in Korea), and is a place where the visitor can appreciate the natural beauty of love.”

Did we ever appreciate the natural beauty of love. And did we ever attract a random Korean dude. A man who happened to be more than willing to pose in pictures with us. Nevermind the fact that he was there with his WIFE. Ahh. Have a seat!Oh, look. It’s the Panty Tower!

Haha.

Oh, and, wait a second! Is that two boys?Oh! Loosen up, Korea! : )

This next one…. We had absolutely no idea what we were getting ourselves into…Oh dear. It’s like one of those commercials you know you should turn away from, but…

Ahhh…. Thanks, Korea. I was doing awesome with my celibacy until now.

Might as well get it on with a few inanimate objects? When in Jeju?Run if you like, but I suggest you accept it. The crazy ahjuma and I aren’t quite ready to let you go. 😉Loveland, Jeju-do, South Korea: http://www.jejuloveland.com/index.html

Boryeong Mudfest 2010: Let’s get muddy!

“Mud is not one of the 4 food groups.”

– Nancy Cartwright

They arrive from trains, from planes, from automobiles. They come from international destinations and every corner of the South Korean peninsula. They arrive by the busload, and they fill every hostel and floor space available in the sleepy beachside town of Daechon. The wind is bending the trees and it’s the middle of monsoon season so guess what – the rain is pounding the concrete so hard that it’s impossible to tell whether it’s raining harder from the sky or the pavement – and it is under these conditions that the idiots in their swimming trunks make their way to the mud baths. They’re carrying nothing but waterproof cameras and bottles of soju, sporting flip-flops and cans of Cass.

Yes, this is the Boreyong Mud Festival, the famous event held once-yearly at Daechon beach on the west cost of South Korea. Not to be missed!

First order of business: find a mud bath. Success! Three feet deep, sloshy, muddy, bubbly, grey. It was our first mud encounter of the day… and within seconds, from head to toe we were covered. There was mud in our ears, under our fingernails, between our toes. There was mud stuck in my teeth. Not one of the four food groups, you say, Ms Cartwright? Are you sure? ; ) Oh, and a warning to contact-lens wearers: there was a substantial amount of mud lodged under my contacts. Eep!

After fixing my contact problem by pouring water in my eyes for the next, oh, twenty minutes or so, and subsequently posing for about thirty-four thousand photographs (does this surprise you? it shouldn’t. we’re kind of a big deal.), it was time for a mudslide. Not the cocktail, though I daresay that would have been a delicious addition.

As the rain started to subside we tackled “an obstacle of hardship”, which was actually a very large inflatable obstacle course where we raced through holes, pulled ourselves on our stomachs through a tunnel of inflatable stalactites and stalagmites, waded through a mud lake, and crawled on our hands and knees to the finish-line and fell, oh-so-gracefully, onto our heads in front of a huge crowd of muddy spectators.

After the hardships came the mudfight, where we flung thick, dark mud at each other and subsequently rubbed it all over ourselves. And just like that, we had morphed into an army of muddy grey aliens.

And I daresay we have never looked better.

“Mud-pies gratify one of our first and best instincts. So long as we are dirty, we are pure.” – Charles Dudley Warner

After a few trips to rinse off in the ocean, we made a trip to the Family Mart to replenish and refuel. Now, I could attempt to explain this, but to be honest, I don’t have the kind of words to describe the ridiculousness of the Family Mart scene. I’m not even sure there are enough adjectives in the English language to correctly portray the insanity of the mass congregation of muddy foreigners on this poor little convenience store in this remote village in this obscure corner of South Korea. Although I was there for nearly an hour, standing in line, I can only possibly do the scene any sort of justice through pictures.
Right? Pleasant, yes? : )

Replenished and refueled; it was time for coloured mud. With giant brushes we painted each other red, blue, yellow, green.How very stylish.

The night that followed was a veritable orgy of bright lights, fried street food (including the splendid french-fry-covered-corn-dog),

fireworks, and late night swims. We also rented scooters. Or were they segways? Engine-powered tricycles? Three-wheeled-segway-scooters? You be the judge.

They were awesome. So were the fireworks.The rain held off and Sunday was both sunny and gorgeous. Not to mention hot.

For a country so open to getting naked with strangers in jimjilbangs, they sure do like to cover up when they swim. Jeans in the water? Don’t mind if I do!

And what is this? A human hamster ball?

Mudfest, you are fun. I’d do you again and again.

And again. ; )

Camping in Korea: Banana Boating in Ungilsan

So, we like to camp. It’s summer and this way we can see more of Korea in the best way: the Cheap Way. Because we’re cheap. And camping is fun. (And cheap.)

The best part about Ungilsan (aside from being cheap) is that it’s directly accessible on the Seoul metro. Take the Jungang Line in the direction of Yongmun for about an hour, and get off at Ungilsan. And if that weren’t simple enough, Ungilsan has only one subway exit, so it’d take some serious effort to get lost (and I would know).

Now, the reason we went to Ungilsan in the first place was because they have wakeboarding and waterskiing there, and, apparently (though we would find out later, not so obviously), places to camp. To get to the wake-dock, walk directly out of the subway station until you see a blue and yellow taxi sign on the right, just between the parking lot and the main road. There’s a number to call on the sign. Call the number. A taxi will come pick you up. Ask them to take you to “ski-jang”. And, voila, they’ll take you to the wake-dock, about a 5 minute cab ride from the station. Simple as that!

The setting is beautiful. The dock is big, with two large upper-deck lounge areas complete with recliner chairs, plastic tables, and a barbecue. You can bring your own food and drink, but if you’re retarded like me and forgot, there’s a convenience store just to the left of the dock along the main road. They don’t have much, but they’ve got the necessities.

Now Ungilsan is awesome for another reason. Not only is it easy to find and cheap to get to, it also has a banana boat available for rides. Yes, that’s right. A banana boat.

And no banana boat ride is complete without boxing helmets. Right?

Wait, what?

Yes, you’re seeing exactly what you think you’re seeing. We’re wearing boxing helmets to ride a banana boat. A banana boat.

I would recommend going there solely for this experience.

The only thing better than Cheap is Free, and the banana boat ride was exactly that! I think they were just excited to dress up the foreigners in funny helmets & striped shirts and watch them ride a giant banana. But I digress.

Camping was fun. Finding a place to camp was even more fun, and this is because we had a) no idea where we were going; and b) no desire to figure it out. So we did what any logical and rational people would do – we hopped in the back of a stranger’s pick-up truck (apparently he was an employee at the wake-dock but no one seems to recall actually seeing him work there), sat atop his garbage-bagged stash of rotten kimchi, cracked open a 6-pack, and let him decide where we were going.

This was, by far, my most favourite part of the entire camping trip. It was entertaining and hilarious riding in the back of that truck, and it’s a good thing, too, because we were riding in circles back there for the better part of 90 minutes. Ha!

When he finally dropped us off, it was at a public park. A park where no camping was allowed. Awesome! Now we had to find a real place to camp (whose idea was this, again?).

We lugged our tents and sleeping bags around town for the better part of the next 90 minutes. This was not nearly as fun as the truck but it was certainly entertaining – we passed a restaurant serving dog and five minutes later, a harmony of barking and woofing filled the otherwise quiet summer night. Sad, but this is Korea. We kept walking.

Eventually we happened upon a rather large, umm, field. I’m still not sure exactly how it happened but we somehow managed to find this big, empty, grassy park, with trees and trails and a river and everything! And no one was there. Perfect! We set up camp.

The night was spent around the campfire with a bit of guitar and an unhealthy amount of barbecued meat, followed by more guitar and an even more unhealthy amount of raisin cake, courtesy of one of my students’ moms.We passed out in our tents in what felt like a real forest, where we could hear frogs croaking and crickets cricketing above the dull moan of the dogs in the distance. I hate to throw the dogs into this but it’s a way of life here and who am I to judge their taste in domestic pets?

When we woke in the morning it was hot and sunny and we had a soccer game to get to, so we cleaned up and made way to the subway (which wasn’t easy to find, considering we didn’t know where we were in the first place). However, after walking for 20-30 minutes in what was obviously the wrong direction, we managed to find a couple cabs parked by a street market and coerced them to drive us to the subway.

Since we didn’t have time to purchase any of these delicious-looking market goods, we were starving when the train arrived. So again we did what any normal and rational people who didn’t buy live chickens at the market would do: we made a picnic lunch in the subway with all the leftovers we hadn’t devoured the night before, which happened to be sandwich ham, mustard, and a pecan pie.Perfect! Nothing like a mustard sandwich and nutty desert to start the day off on the right foot! 😉

Watersports in Seoul: Wakeboarding on the Han River

Water sports on the Han River? I know, I know. I know what you’re thinking. Seoul is big. Real big. Seoul is, in fact, the world’s second largest metropolitan area. Yup. The greater-Seoul area has 24.5 million inhabitants. That’s a lot of people. The entire population of Canada is 34 million. Canada.

Cutting right through these 24.5 million people in Seoul is a river, known as the Han. Now I’m not certain, and in fact I have no idea whatsoever, but I’m willing to bet at least some of the 24.5 million people’s poop has made it into the river at some point.

My situation is this. I was born and raised on the west coast of Canada and I practically grew up on the water. Moving to Seoul made me realize how much I missed the ocean, boating, watersports, what have you. I missed it all. So when the opportunity arose to do some wakeboarding, obviously I embraced it. Poop or no poop. 😉

Directions: To reach the dock, take the subway to Apgujeong, exit 6. Walk straight about 300 meters. After the GS25, turn right and walk down the road until you can’t go any further. Take a left here and walk straight until you see a tunnel to the beach on your right-hand side. Through the tunnel and down to the beach, you’ll see a couple of large parked boats to your right. You’ll see the wake dock beside River City, and you’re there! Not only do they have waterskiing and wakeboarding, they also have tubing, a banana boat, a water chair (!!), and apparently a flying mattress too (illegal in most countries).The prices are a little steep – they charge ₩20,000 for a 10-15 minute tow along the river (they provide the driver and you can throw all your friends in the boat and make them take pictures of you 😉 ), but you only live once and when else will you get to wakeboard/waterski on such a perfectly polluted river? 😉

Haha, it wasn’t that bad. Really. I didn’t have to jump over a single dead fish (or floating body), and I didn’t even develop a mystery rash. And I promise you, I swallowed my fair share of poop water. 😉

Anyway, and more importantly, it was fun! A day on the river with good friends, a few pints, and a little wakeboarding. And when the sun went down, we retreated to the grassy field to toss the frisbee and kick the soccer ball around. Things could be worse. 🙂