Bali to Cambodia, Offwego!
Feb 3rd, 2009, 02:00 PM
#22
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Hi Lorna
He told me the prices but I've forgotten. I want to say $20 a night, including his wife making breakfast each day. The prices go down the longer you stay; I do remember that. I'll ask him again when I see him today.
I've got some photos of it as well, and will upload them when I get to SR where my card reader is.
He told me the prices but I've forgotten. I want to say $20 a night, including his wife making breakfast each day. The prices go down the longer you stay; I do remember that. I'll ask him again when I see him today.
I've got some photos of it as well, and will upload them when I get to SR where my card reader is.
Feb 3rd, 2009, 06:40 PM
#23
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Lori, it seems that, like Thailand, everybody in Bali goes by their nickname. There's a Wayan in the management of my Indonesian operation, but everybody calls him "Black" - even before he worked for us.
Feb 3rd, 2009, 07:09 PM
#24
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I am shaking my head in awe and wonderment. About what you say? Ah....well... I sure wish I was with you to walk over those terraces...and eat some crispy pig
The monkeys were the goddess's way of saying PUT DOWN THOSE SMOKES.
Hurry back..I have forgotten how to fold T shirts.
The monkeys were the goddess's way of saying PUT DOWN THOSE SMOKES.
Hurry back..I have forgotten how to fold T shirts.
Feb 3rd, 2009, 10:31 PM
#25
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Man oh man, two hours ago I had the crispy pig and my pork-lovin lips are still greasy. I shall never need chapstick again.
Sharon honey I don't want you wasting your life folding shirts. Here's your reminder till we next meet:
http://www.videojug.com/film/how-to-...t-in-2-seconds
Michael; makes sense now. I shall have to ask Wayan what his nickname is.
Sharon honey I don't want you wasting your life folding shirts. Here's your reminder till we next meet:
http://www.videojug.com/film/how-to-...t-in-2-seconds
Michael; makes sense now. I shall have to ask Wayan what his nickname is.
Feb 10th, 2009, 06:53 AM
#26
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Lest I should incur any penalties, here is an update from Yogyakarta.
Spent the first night at the Manohara so I could do the sunrise at Borobudur. $19 via private taxi from Yogya to the hotel, 42 km from town. The Manohara has seen better days and I felt a bit of a hostage out there. Thankfully I wasn't staying long. The breakfast was the worst I've seen in all my travels, so if you stay there, pack in something to eat in the morning. The rooms have seen better days for certain but for the price, it was serviceable. And it was only one night.
For me, having a stash of m&m's along on a trip is essential. When I'm feeling a little homesick or want to make an instant friend on a bus or something, they are always there to serve. I had a ziplock baggy full of them and had left them out on the dresser by the bed. At 3 am I awoke to a ruckus under my bed. In my sleep induced stupor I couldn't imagine what it was. Find the flashlight; ok there are my m&ms jumping around under the bed. Jumping. A frog, I thought. There's a frog in my m&ms. Not being afraid of frogs I reached under to pull it out. Oh dear. A mouse. So big that he filled the bag. The baggy was still zipped. No hole. How did he get in there? I held him up and in my fogginess could not compute what I should do. Mostly I was pissed about the m&ms. Could they be salvaged? No probably not. Damn. Suddenly my brain seemed to snap to. "Hey, you're afraid of mice". I dropped the bag and got on the bed. What to do? I thought surely he'll chew a hole in the plastic and flee. But no. He just hopped and hopped around, the shaking of the m&m's giving a festive, mariachi flavor to the room. Gathering my nerve, I caught the bag, walked outside, prayed to baby jesus that he would not run up my arm, and unzipped the bag. He ran so fast it was as if he disappeared, leaving my soiled m&ms behind. Sigh.
During my two days in Yogyakarta, I counted 19 dead rats. (I'm a counter.) I lost count of the funny Engrish signs I saw. One I cannot forget is the POO Laundry, "Where Everything is Possible!"
Okay back to the report. Borobudur was for me a deeply meaningful, mystical place. At the bottom, carved into the rock are images of those still hampered by material desire. The story in the stone on the lower levels is one of hunting, sailing ships, jungle scenes, life and death, wars, the worship of kings, everyday life.
Further up you see the rejection of the material world with images of meditation, examination and wandering. The carvings of daily life disappear. The animals disappear. The shift is from doing to being.
Finally at the top, Nirvana. In each one of the stupas at the top there is a meditating Buddha, mostly decapitated. (Tomb Raiders, feh.)
In the bottom tiers, in the realm of those who remain tied to the material world, you cannot see out. You become somewhat disoriented as you continue round and round. (Have I been here already? hmmm) But as you rise up the structure the landscape opens up to a full view of the sky, mountains, the sun and mist. Immediate orientation. This message was not lost on me.
I found a great spiritual meaning in climbing the temple. When you are any one level, you go round and round. At some point, you must DECIDE to ascend. Then you go round and round, again, however long you choose, however long you need to, until you're done with that. There are many distractions, many things to see, to keep you busy as you go round and round.
At each subsequent level, the expression of the material world is etched into the stone less and less. At the top, the stone is blank, there are no carvings, nothing left of the world below. An absolute nothingness, inside which everything is possible, just like the Poo Laundry!
It is one of the most impressive sites I have experienced. Not because of it's grandeur or the intricacies of the carvings, but because of the builder's ability to relate this profound message to a spoiled american like me, 1000 years later.
The hawkers selling trinkets at Borobudur put those kids at Angkor Wat to shame. They just won't leave you be for a second.
Spent the first night at the Manohara so I could do the sunrise at Borobudur. $19 via private taxi from Yogya to the hotel, 42 km from town. The Manohara has seen better days and I felt a bit of a hostage out there. Thankfully I wasn't staying long. The breakfast was the worst I've seen in all my travels, so if you stay there, pack in something to eat in the morning. The rooms have seen better days for certain but for the price, it was serviceable. And it was only one night.
For me, having a stash of m&m's along on a trip is essential. When I'm feeling a little homesick or want to make an instant friend on a bus or something, they are always there to serve. I had a ziplock baggy full of them and had left them out on the dresser by the bed. At 3 am I awoke to a ruckus under my bed. In my sleep induced stupor I couldn't imagine what it was. Find the flashlight; ok there are my m&ms jumping around under the bed. Jumping. A frog, I thought. There's a frog in my m&ms. Not being afraid of frogs I reached under to pull it out. Oh dear. A mouse. So big that he filled the bag. The baggy was still zipped. No hole. How did he get in there? I held him up and in my fogginess could not compute what I should do. Mostly I was pissed about the m&ms. Could they be salvaged? No probably not. Damn. Suddenly my brain seemed to snap to. "Hey, you're afraid of mice". I dropped the bag and got on the bed. What to do? I thought surely he'll chew a hole in the plastic and flee. But no. He just hopped and hopped around, the shaking of the m&m's giving a festive, mariachi flavor to the room. Gathering my nerve, I caught the bag, walked outside, prayed to baby jesus that he would not run up my arm, and unzipped the bag. He ran so fast it was as if he disappeared, leaving my soiled m&ms behind. Sigh.
During my two days in Yogyakarta, I counted 19 dead rats. (I'm a counter.) I lost count of the funny Engrish signs I saw. One I cannot forget is the POO Laundry, "Where Everything is Possible!"
Okay back to the report. Borobudur was for me a deeply meaningful, mystical place. At the bottom, carved into the rock are images of those still hampered by material desire. The story in the stone on the lower levels is one of hunting, sailing ships, jungle scenes, life and death, wars, the worship of kings, everyday life.
Further up you see the rejection of the material world with images of meditation, examination and wandering. The carvings of daily life disappear. The animals disappear. The shift is from doing to being.
Finally at the top, Nirvana. In each one of the stupas at the top there is a meditating Buddha, mostly decapitated. (Tomb Raiders, feh.)
In the bottom tiers, in the realm of those who remain tied to the material world, you cannot see out. You become somewhat disoriented as you continue round and round. (Have I been here already? hmmm) But as you rise up the structure the landscape opens up to a full view of the sky, mountains, the sun and mist. Immediate orientation. This message was not lost on me.
I found a great spiritual meaning in climbing the temple. When you are any one level, you go round and round. At some point, you must DECIDE to ascend. Then you go round and round, again, however long you choose, however long you need to, until you're done with that. There are many distractions, many things to see, to keep you busy as you go round and round.
At each subsequent level, the expression of the material world is etched into the stone less and less. At the top, the stone is blank, there are no carvings, nothing left of the world below. An absolute nothingness, inside which everything is possible, just like the Poo Laundry!
It is one of the most impressive sites I have experienced. Not because of it's grandeur or the intricacies of the carvings, but because of the builder's ability to relate this profound message to a spoiled american like me, 1000 years later.
The hawkers selling trinkets at Borobudur put those kids at Angkor Wat to shame. They just won't leave you be for a second.
Feb 10th, 2009, 07:02 AM
#27
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Transportation from the Manohara back to Yogya is $25 (ouch). I had wanted to stay the next night at the Ministry of Coffee, thinking that part of town looked more inviting than the area around Marlioboro. But it was booked, as were a couple of the other mid-range choices I had in mind.
Crap. What to do? I had not researched enough to have any idea what the options were....Then I remembered I still had some points left on my Mastercard. Yay! (My mastercard racks up points on Expedia. Very handy) Got online, went to see what was available through expedia in Yogya. Hmmm, a special at the Melia. I stayed at a Melia in Madrid and it was excellent. The same, I wondered? Who cares. Look at that comfy bed! Is that a duvet I see? Click click. done.
I checked in at 11am, the room was not ready yet so I took at becak to have some coffee and change some money.
Ponheary taught me when choosing transportation to always choose the one who doesn't speak much english and has the worst shoes. He will be the most honest and needs the work. When I object, saying "that one usually has the most unsafe moto/tuktuk/becak/cyclo" she counters that "God will watch over you in any decision made with compassionate intention". True enough.
So, I had a look at the options and found a guy who spoke probably 10 words of English and had NO shoes. And yes, the rattiest becak in all of Yogya. His name was Sutardi and he had the whitest teeth in Indonesia with a smile to match.
He knew "money changer" but his friend had to interpret my desire to find some kopi luwak. Apparently this stuff is not on every corner and we had to go quite far to find it. $10 for a cup of coffee, but I must say it was quite delectable and did not taste like ass as I feared it might.
During our journey, we didn't talk much due to our serious language barrier, but he did finally manage to ask me if I had a "program". I assumed this meant "touring plans". No, I didn't have a "program". Several minutes passed until he finally was able to ask me if I needed to see some Batik or Silver.
No, I don't like to shop. (big fat lie) I told him I wanted to go to Prambanan.
"You go me Prambanan."
"On the becak?"
"Motobike" and he made the universal gesture of hands on handles, revving the motor.
My mind raced; to Prambanan on a moto? With this guy? No, I thought it's probably better to go in a taxi with a proper driver. It's kinda far and it's been raining every day....
Ponheary's words came back to haunt me...."you go me Prambanan" he said again.
"Okay, we go Prambanan tomorrow". He didn't understand tomorrow. I asked him how much. "One hundred" "One hundred rupiah"? Nodding. I pull out 100,000 rupiah (about $11) to confirm. I should probably bargain this down, but I don't. We play more charades to understand I wanted to leave at 7 am and wanted to be back by 12. Yes, okay.
Back at the hotel I go for a swim and have a mediocre massage. The first strange thing was the masseuse bringing me to the room and then telling me "Take off". But then she didn't go away to give me a moment. "Take off" she demanded.
So I start taking off my clothes and she just stands there, staring at me the whole time. Down to my panties. "Take off!" said the bossy masseuse. A bit disconcerting. "OK Lay up". Hmmm, maybe she means lay down. So I lay down. Then she says "sit down". I think maybe she has her up and down mixed up so I sit up. No, that's not what she wants either. This goes on and on, her putting me through these nude contortions.
I'm kinda used to having a towel over my nethers during a massage, but no not this time, just butt naked on the table, trying to get in a pleasing position for her. I leave needing a drink. Maybe two.
Crap. What to do? I had not researched enough to have any idea what the options were....Then I remembered I still had some points left on my Mastercard. Yay! (My mastercard racks up points on Expedia. Very handy) Got online, went to see what was available through expedia in Yogya. Hmmm, a special at the Melia. I stayed at a Melia in Madrid and it was excellent. The same, I wondered? Who cares. Look at that comfy bed! Is that a duvet I see? Click click. done.
I checked in at 11am, the room was not ready yet so I took at becak to have some coffee and change some money.
Ponheary taught me when choosing transportation to always choose the one who doesn't speak much english and has the worst shoes. He will be the most honest and needs the work. When I object, saying "that one usually has the most unsafe moto/tuktuk/becak/cyclo" she counters that "God will watch over you in any decision made with compassionate intention". True enough.
So, I had a look at the options and found a guy who spoke probably 10 words of English and had NO shoes. And yes, the rattiest becak in all of Yogya. His name was Sutardi and he had the whitest teeth in Indonesia with a smile to match.
He knew "money changer" but his friend had to interpret my desire to find some kopi luwak. Apparently this stuff is not on every corner and we had to go quite far to find it. $10 for a cup of coffee, but I must say it was quite delectable and did not taste like ass as I feared it might.
During our journey, we didn't talk much due to our serious language barrier, but he did finally manage to ask me if I had a "program". I assumed this meant "touring plans". No, I didn't have a "program". Several minutes passed until he finally was able to ask me if I needed to see some Batik or Silver.
No, I don't like to shop. (big fat lie) I told him I wanted to go to Prambanan.
"You go me Prambanan."
"On the becak?"
"Motobike" and he made the universal gesture of hands on handles, revving the motor.
My mind raced; to Prambanan on a moto? With this guy? No, I thought it's probably better to go in a taxi with a proper driver. It's kinda far and it's been raining every day....
Ponheary's words came back to haunt me...."you go me Prambanan" he said again.
"Okay, we go Prambanan tomorrow". He didn't understand tomorrow. I asked him how much. "One hundred" "One hundred rupiah"? Nodding. I pull out 100,000 rupiah (about $11) to confirm. I should probably bargain this down, but I don't. We play more charades to understand I wanted to leave at 7 am and wanted to be back by 12. Yes, okay.
Back at the hotel I go for a swim and have a mediocre massage. The first strange thing was the masseuse bringing me to the room and then telling me "Take off". But then she didn't go away to give me a moment. "Take off" she demanded.
So I start taking off my clothes and she just stands there, staring at me the whole time. Down to my panties. "Take off!" said the bossy masseuse. A bit disconcerting. "OK Lay up". Hmmm, maybe she means lay down. So I lay down. Then she says "sit down". I think maybe she has her up and down mixed up so I sit up. No, that's not what she wants either. This goes on and on, her putting me through these nude contortions.
I'm kinda used to having a towel over my nethers during a massage, but no not this time, just butt naked on the table, trying to get in a pleasing position for her. I leave needing a drink. Maybe two.
Feb 10th, 2009, 07:09 AM
#28
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I notice a nice lounge in the hotel and decide to go in for said drinks. A sign on the door says they have a live Jazz band. Lovely. The sign further states that the band is great "because we have the ability to create the dynamic environment". Who writes this stuff?
I go inside and they are playing "Oh Suzanna" followed by some old Archies tunes. Not exactly jazz, but hey. I sat in surrealism and drank my Jim Beam, which cost more than my greco-roman massage. They served snacks in this lounge. On the menu was not only "pan fried duck with red wine jiz", but "fajitas with floor tortillas". Yummy!
If you should find yourself in Yogya, eat the fried chicken (ayam goreng) at every opportunity. Eat it on the street. It's everywhere. Absolutely stunning. Intersperse satay whenever you can. The beef is better than the chicken. Sadly, the muslims say no pork. Good thing I got my fill of that in Ubud. There is a lamb satay that is served with this amazing sweet/spicy dark brown sauce with sesame seeds. I will remember that sauce for the rest of my life.
I tried to keep my eyes out for Roti. I got strung out on that stuff in Chaing Mai a few years ago. The roti stands in Yogya are full of big stacks of wonder bread. They're not making anything with this wonder bread, just big stacks of it in the cart. Finally I figured out that what I know as roti is called something else in indonesia.
The other unusual food thing was when I asked for syrup or honey for my pancakes one morning and they brought me ketchup. Close enough. It's actually not bad.
Everywhere in Yogya, including my hotel room, there are little green arrows that say KIBLAT. I assume this means EAST.
The hotel is very near Marlioboro street so after I get a couple of drinks in me, I head down there. It's another one of those places like night markets everywhere; you only need to walk 10 feet and then you've seen it; the next two miles are repeats of the same merchandise.
I grew weary pretty quickly of all the guys that wanted to be my new best friend and take me to the very special batik show, so I got out the iPod, put on some James Brown and my mood improved dramatically. When people would start talking I would just smile and nod and walk on, oblivious to what they were saying. Rude, yes but also happier. The iPod was surely invented by someone who went to a lot of markets.
There is a severe shortage of internet cafes in Yogya. I had to walk quite a ways until I found one.
The next morning Sutardi was there with his moto, or someone's moto to meet me at 7 sharp. Not only did he have shoes today, but socks also, and nice clean slacks and a very crisp shirt. Like he was going to church or possibly on a date. I dare say I've never seen anyone so happy. His more experienced becak friends were giving him quite a bunch of ribbing and one of them told me I was crazy to go to Prambanan on a moto. It's gonna rain, you know. Whatever.
Prambanam is just okay. Under heavy restoration from the earthquake. Anyone who has seen Angkor Wat does not necessarily need to go there, IMO. I was saddened to learn they charge Indonesians for entry. Even in money grubbing Cambodia they don't charge Khmers.
I asked Sutardi if he wanted to come along. He made sure to use our charade game to let me know that he is a Muslim and "no believe Hindu". I agreed that I'm not a Hindu either, but we can respect each other's religions, and the beautiful art and architecture that springs from devotion. This point is hard to convey in charades. The next time I play that game in the states, I'm going to put "religious tolerance" on the card and see if anyone can get it.
We sat and drank tea and smoked cigarettes and I taught Sutardi as much English as I could in the hours we had left. He grasped it quite quickly, certainly faster than I was grasping Indonesian, but then my children's next meal didn't depend on it or I would have been as good of a student as he was.
In Yogyakarta, 1,000 people asked me where my husband was. I finally just started telling them "I'm on my way to meet him now". The look of "Oh there must be something horribly wrong with you" when you say you have no husband is just too much to bear.
Singapore is next.
I go inside and they are playing "Oh Suzanna" followed by some old Archies tunes. Not exactly jazz, but hey. I sat in surrealism and drank my Jim Beam, which cost more than my greco-roman massage. They served snacks in this lounge. On the menu was not only "pan fried duck with red wine jiz", but "fajitas with floor tortillas". Yummy!
If you should find yourself in Yogya, eat the fried chicken (ayam goreng) at every opportunity. Eat it on the street. It's everywhere. Absolutely stunning. Intersperse satay whenever you can. The beef is better than the chicken. Sadly, the muslims say no pork. Good thing I got my fill of that in Ubud. There is a lamb satay that is served with this amazing sweet/spicy dark brown sauce with sesame seeds. I will remember that sauce for the rest of my life.
I tried to keep my eyes out for Roti. I got strung out on that stuff in Chaing Mai a few years ago. The roti stands in Yogya are full of big stacks of wonder bread. They're not making anything with this wonder bread, just big stacks of it in the cart. Finally I figured out that what I know as roti is called something else in indonesia.
The other unusual food thing was when I asked for syrup or honey for my pancakes one morning and they brought me ketchup. Close enough. It's actually not bad.
Everywhere in Yogya, including my hotel room, there are little green arrows that say KIBLAT. I assume this means EAST.
The hotel is very near Marlioboro street so after I get a couple of drinks in me, I head down there. It's another one of those places like night markets everywhere; you only need to walk 10 feet and then you've seen it; the next two miles are repeats of the same merchandise.
I grew weary pretty quickly of all the guys that wanted to be my new best friend and take me to the very special batik show, so I got out the iPod, put on some James Brown and my mood improved dramatically. When people would start talking I would just smile and nod and walk on, oblivious to what they were saying. Rude, yes but also happier. The iPod was surely invented by someone who went to a lot of markets.
There is a severe shortage of internet cafes in Yogya. I had to walk quite a ways until I found one.
The next morning Sutardi was there with his moto, or someone's moto to meet me at 7 sharp. Not only did he have shoes today, but socks also, and nice clean slacks and a very crisp shirt. Like he was going to church or possibly on a date. I dare say I've never seen anyone so happy. His more experienced becak friends were giving him quite a bunch of ribbing and one of them told me I was crazy to go to Prambanan on a moto. It's gonna rain, you know. Whatever.
Prambanam is just okay. Under heavy restoration from the earthquake. Anyone who has seen Angkor Wat does not necessarily need to go there, IMO. I was saddened to learn they charge Indonesians for entry. Even in money grubbing Cambodia they don't charge Khmers.
I asked Sutardi if he wanted to come along. He made sure to use our charade game to let me know that he is a Muslim and "no believe Hindu". I agreed that I'm not a Hindu either, but we can respect each other's religions, and the beautiful art and architecture that springs from devotion. This point is hard to convey in charades. The next time I play that game in the states, I'm going to put "religious tolerance" on the card and see if anyone can get it.
We sat and drank tea and smoked cigarettes and I taught Sutardi as much English as I could in the hours we had left. He grasped it quite quickly, certainly faster than I was grasping Indonesian, but then my children's next meal didn't depend on it or I would have been as good of a student as he was.
In Yogyakarta, 1,000 people asked me where my husband was. I finally just started telling them "I'm on my way to meet him now". The look of "Oh there must be something horribly wrong with you" when you say you have no husband is just too much to bear.
Singapore is next.
Feb 10th, 2009, 07:53 AM
#29
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Great stu-u-u-u-f. Really nicely written. I dips me lid.
Will you understand that old Australian expression? probably not - but it's a serious compliment. I love this: 'choose the one who doesn't speak much english and has the worst shoes...' so wise.
Just excellent. Keep going.
Will you understand that old Australian expression? probably not - but it's a serious compliment. I love this: 'choose the one who doesn't speak much english and has the worst shoes...' so wise.
Just excellent. Keep going.
Feb 10th, 2009, 08:07 AM
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Lori
I LOVE the style of your report, it feels real and you are telling it how i imagine you talk. Your adventure is really inspiring me and i hope one day to meet you and Ponhenry.
Singapore is gonna feel real sanitised when you get there (but think of the mousless M & M's....)
Look foward to the next instalment
I LOVE the style of your report, it feels real and you are telling it how i imagine you talk. Your adventure is really inspiring me and i hope one day to meet you and Ponhenry.
Singapore is gonna feel real sanitised when you get there (but think of the mousless M & M's....)
Look foward to the next instalment
Feb 10th, 2009, 08:16 AM
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I'm absolutely loving this, Lori. The process of visiting Borobudor was one of the most profoundly spiritual experiences I've had.
In my travel journal, I have a long list of US place names used as business names in Yogja. Off the top of my head, the one I remember is Indiana Ice Cream. I have to wonder where that came from.
There is a famous fried chicken place in Yogja where they soak the chicken in coconut milk before frying. It's scrumptious. You see Indonesians carrying bags of it on the plane back to Jakarta.
In my travel journal, I have a long list of US place names used as business names in Yogja. Off the top of my head, the one I remember is Indiana Ice Cream. I have to wonder where that came from.
There is a famous fried chicken place in Yogja where they soak the chicken in coconut milk before frying. It's scrumptious. You see Indonesians carrying bags of it on the plane back to Jakarta.
Feb 10th, 2009, 10:44 AM
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Great stories. Sounds like you've found some of the adventure you wanted.
I could so hear Ponheary giving the advice about the driver.
Glad you followed it, though I'm loathe to ride motos anywhere any more. Just too dangerous for my blood.
Loved the story about the massage. Bali is the only place I've had a massage totally nude-must be an Indonesian thing.
I could so hear Ponheary giving the advice about the driver.
Glad you followed it, though I'm loathe to ride motos anywhere any more. Just too dangerous for my blood.Loved the story about the massage. Bali is the only place I've had a massage totally nude-must be an Indonesian thing.
Feb 10th, 2009, 11:34 AM
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The pan fried duck sign was priceless. Ah, that brings back memories! I took a bunch of pictures of those Chinglish-ish signs on our last trip. Good to know they exist almost everywhere in Asia. We got some priceless ones. My personal favorite this time was in Pai where we came across a sign boldly advertising a scrumptious "Breakfast - Assie Style."
I think it was meant to appeal to hungry Australians in town, but probably only served to offend those of the larger-bottomed ilk.
Can't wait to read more about your trip, Lori. We're planning our own trip to Bali in May of 2010 and now have lots to look forward to--including, apparently, contorting in the nude for Indonesian masseuses. Sounds like a trip!
I think it was meant to appeal to hungry Australians in town, but probably only served to offend those of the larger-bottomed ilk.
Can't wait to read more about your trip, Lori. We're planning our own trip to Bali in May of 2010 and now have lots to look forward to--including, apparently, contorting in the nude for Indonesian masseuses. Sounds like a trip!
Feb 10th, 2009, 12:22 PM
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Lori-great job. No penalties in the near future. Just keep amusing us with your wonderful prose. The wording and timing of the M&M mouse story was perfect. Even counters can have a way with words. Praise from the Dogster is high praise indeed.
Your adoring public waits for more!
Your adoring public waits for more!
Feb 10th, 2009, 12:28 PM
#39
Join Date: Jan 2003
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Lori-
http://eatingasia.typepad.com/
This is a really cool food blog by some people who live in Malaysia but travel all over SEA. There's some good recent stuff on Yogya if you are still in the area.
http://eatingasia.typepad.com/
This is a really cool food blog by some people who live in Malaysia but travel all over SEA. There's some good recent stuff on Yogya if you are still in the area.
