Germany

Our southeast asian adventures are over, but the adventure itself still continues in Dusseldorf, Germany! Seems at first like a pretty inconvenient, out of the blue destination after so much time in southeast asia but we chose to come to Dusseldorf because we actually have an Uncle who lives here. We had to fly over that part of the world anyways so we thought it was a perfect opportunity to stop in! So here we are.
       When I stepped out of the plane in Germany, it felt like the apocalypse. I could feel the space around me sucking the life out of me and I was surrounded by dead plants and barren fields, strange colourless debris was all over the place. The memory of cold weather came back to me and in an instant I had so much sympathy for immigrants from the tropics who come to cold countries for the first time. Compared to the rainforest this seems like cursed earth. But there was some twisted part of me that missed the cold and somehow felt comfortable in it. Other stand-out welcomed comforts included milk and cereal, dogs that people actually like, and toilets that have a switch you can press to make them flush.

We couldn't have chosen a more dramatic place to face the culture shock though. Dusseldorf is a particularly wealthy city of investors, insurance companies, and law firms. Big business. There are so many people walking around in leathers and furs, shops are all decked out and expensive, and there are christmas lights and decorations absolutely everywhere. After immersing ourselves in poverty and low budget circumstances for so long, it felt really uncomfortable to be surrounded by so much wealth. And when you're surrounded by wealth, you inevitably live a wealthier lifestyle to adapt to it. My weekly budget in southeast asia was $220 per week for everything: 3 meals a day, cheap accommodation, public transportation, and the occasional recreational whatever. Thats $30 for everything I needed in an entire day, yet I spent $30 dollars alone on my first dinner in Germany and over $200 to get new warm clothing (I had no coat or sweat shirts or anything). I could list a million of these mind boggling comparisons, but the most ridiculous one comes from the $7,700 suit we saw downtown Dusseldorf. The experiences that I've had here have been lifelong, absolutely incredible experiences for $220 x 12 weeks = $2,640. If you include flights to and from that number climbs higher, but still nowhere near the price of that suit. That suit was the nicest piece of fabric I've ever seen, but I cannot imagine that it would ever be worth as much to someone as this travel experience has been to me.. not to mention the distance $7,700 could go in the hands of community development leaders like Dr. Dave Mar Naw in the Akha Hill Tribe villages and Sareth Brak in rural Cambodia.      

Some take it further than others, but relative to most of the world our entire culture is really rich. Material wealth is deeply engrained in our lifestyles. The rest of the world doesn't get to live like we do, we are the strange ones. I'm not saying we're all money lusting fiends, but its true that a lot of the material wealth that we consider to be bare necessities are viewed as luxuries by most of the world. Things like an abundance of clothing, hot water showers, our own doctors and dentists, a mattress to sleep on, plenty of food, a washer and drier. I don't think having these things makes us bad people, but I think it means we especially have to be careful not to overindulge in material wealth. I think we have to make a mental effort to be aware of our overindulgent habits and then to wean ourselves off of them, to live more modestly.

It's important to wean ourselves off of overindulgent habits because they tend to have greater negative impacts on the world around us, often in ways we don't fully understand or consider. In rural Cambodia, I met a lot of really fantastic men and women. In order to provide for their families, several women in the village get jobs in the nearest city where they work in big factories sewing clothing. They crowd insane amounts of people into the back of a pickup truck every morning at 5am to get trucked off to the factory, then return in the evening after the sun has gone down, 6 days a week. These are working conditions that we wouldn't force on anyone in Canada. The clothes they make pass through a series of middle men until they reach our stores. Theres a huge system at work here and there are lots of people along the way you could point your finger at, but the whole system is fueled by consumer demand, by our desire to have clothes. Knowing this makes me want to be careful not to feed a system like this. Easier said than done, but choosing not to overindulge is a good start.

Clothing is one example, but I think there are a lot of these kinds of systems that we inadvertently feed without really knowing the humanitarian and environmental consequences at the other end. The reality is that none of us have the time and energy to understand all the consequences of all our actions. There will always be things that we "should" be thinking about that we will instead be ignorant to. Thats why I think its a good rule of thumb to try to not to overindulge in whatever you're doing. And when we inevitably discover that we've accidentally made a negative contribution to the world, we shouldn't hate ourselves for it. Be grateful that identifying the mistake at the very least reveals a new understanding and presents an opportunity to make a positive change in the way we live. This, of course, requires motivation to be a good person, which I like to think most people have. But maniacs who murder little children in their schools unfortunately prove that this isn't always the case.

I want to be careful not to sound preachy or to sound like I'm trying to call anyone to action. I'm simply sharing the thoughts that come to mind after seeing both the rich and poor perspectives more clearly.

Home soon, cant wait!

The Celebes Sea

After exploring the nature and the people of Borneo's tropical rainforests, we decided to turn our attention to a very different ecosystem: the tropical Sea. We bused to the eastern side of Borneo then ferried out to a tiny island called Mabul out in the Celebes Sea. The Celebes sea is sandwiched between Malaysia, Indonesia, and the Philippines. The only way to explore the underwater world is to scuba dive. So that's what we did! We took scuba courses on Mabul then headed out to one of the world's top scuba destinations: Sipadan.

Sipadan is a steep, 2,000 foot volcanic cone that juts out of the sea floor and is covered in living corals that supports an insane diversity of busy aquatic life. Without a doubt, scuba diving at Sipadan was the most overwhelmingly breathtaking experience I've ever been a part of. I swear to you, during every moment under that water there was something incredible to see. Reef sharks, huge sea turtles (bigger than me!), meter-and-a-half long barracuda, giant humbphead parrotfish, octapus, lobster, and way more types of beautifully coloured fish than I will ever know.. some the size of my head, others my fingertip. My vision was constantly dominated by marine life. I can't even think of something to compare it to, I've never seen anything like it. And you'd think the sea turtles and sharks would be a rare sight, but even they were everywhere. After diving Sipadan, I almost don't even believe turtles are endangered..

What surprised me most though was how little the fish cared that we were there. You could swim right up to fish, turtles, sharks and they just ignore you. At one point I was swimming with a sea turtle, our belly's facing each other, closer than an arm's reach, and it just swam with me! I totally could have reached out a poked it in the eye, but it just trusted me. And the coral is a whole new story. When I saw the rainforest, I saw new plants but in a similar atmosphere- there was still grass and soil and trees. But the entire aquatic landscape was a brand new sight. That's why it was so overwhelming and incredible.




And its not just the sights that were new, the feeling of being 65 feet underwater is a new experience in itself. When swimming at neutral buoyancy, your buoyancy cancels out gravity and it feels like you're in outer space. The difference is that you slowly move up and down as you breath compressed air into your lungs. Suddenly your breathing controls your vertical movement. Its a bizarre feeling. But its very relaxing, almost meditative. Water is thick, so movement is slow and more methodical. Sounds are muffled but travel quickly so you can hear boats from far away. Scuba diving is a completely new sensory experience on all fronts. So worth it.

To follow with the theme of our trip, we sought out people whose lives revolve around the area we just explored. If you've ever seen the BBC series Human Planet (same idea as Planet Earth but with humans), then you might have seen the Bajau people. The Bajau are unique in that they have adapted to living out in the Sea. Though some do live on the coastal land, most of the Bajau live in villages built on stilts out in shallow sand bars while others live in small wooden boats.  Most of the Bajau live off the coast of northern Borneo, right where we are.

We had originally hoped we could live with the Bajau for a period of time and learn about their unique lives, just as we have done elsewhere on our trip. Unfortunately, we didn't make it happen for a few reasons. For one, it just wasn't practical to live with them. In the Bajau villages out in the Sea there was barely enough space for the families in their own homes let alone for guests. Many of the Bajau families literally sleep in a pile crammed in their small boat. Their living space is very small. Also, we got the vibe that the Bajau weren't really used to the idea of homestays. It was a lot harder to find opportunities to stay with the Bajau than with other indigenous people we've visited. Communication was a huge barrier too, they spoke neither English nor Malaysia's national language.

We also abandoned the idea of staying in a coastal Bajau village  because we just couldn't feel safe doing it. We've seen a ton of poverty on this trip, enough to recognize that the poverty here was uniquely desperate. Walking around the coastal Bajau villages was mostly welcoming, we even got invited to play volleyball once. But sometimes you'd get cold looks and smiles would not be returned. Several people would reach out their hands and ask for money, then no longer acknowledge you whether you hand them money or not. There didn't seem to be that mutual curiosity for each other that we've felt in other parts of our trip. And it was tough to see naked children hovering outside resorts every day begging for money and food (a lot of the resorts were built on stilts out in the shallow water which is why you see children begging from boats). I think the close proximity of relatively rich scuba resorts is salt in the wounds of the poverty stricken Bajau of this area and probably exacerbates a bitterness towards those perceived as rich. But salt in the wounds of seasoned Sea dwellers is nothing when it comes to maintaining such a respectable lifestyle. The way these people have adapted to life in the Sea is very impressive. You should seriously watch the Human Planet episode that features the Bajau people doing underwater spearfishing. Its nuts! 
Here's a clip from it: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_FUlHngPqQ

Its hard to believe but the adventurous part of our traveling is over now. We fly to Germany soon to visit my uncle for a week where cold weather  and culture shock await us. Not long now before we're back in Canada!

Rainforests in Borneo

After our time in Cambodia, we flew to a big tropic island on the equator called Borneo. The island is split between Malaysia, Indonesia, and a tiny country called Brunei. We will be spending pretty much the rest of the trip here.

Our first stop was Kuching, Malaysia. Everyone loves cats here. There are big statues of cats in the city and even cats engraved on every sewer grate. I later found out the name Kuching literally translates to "Cat". We got out of cat city as quick as we could and headed to Bako National Park to check out a tropical rainforest.

Rainforests have been the theme of the last week and a half. The two days spent trekking around this national park was filled with incredible views. Its amazing how quickly the weather changes from raining to sunny and back. It rains so often that some parts of the trail are constantly covered in puddles and the only way to venture forward is to walk across fallen tree trunks or jump from protruding root to root. The soaking wet socks were a drag, but the rain and heat were forgivable since they give rise to to most insane biodiversity. Every inch of the land is covered with life. The entire forest is just a huge competition for space and sunlight. I've never seen so many plants growing on roots, on rocks, and even on other plants. Animals were tough to spot, but we did manage to see some boar and some monkeys. Proboscis monkeys were the most interesting. They're monkeys that look like gonzo from the Muppets and they only live on this island. They're really elusive though, I could only manage to catch one making a dash across a clearing on the beach. Wiki Proboscis monkey if you're curious about them.

 

Exploring the coastal rainforest was really cool, but on this trip our goal has always been to meet people who live their lives in ways that are very different from our own. We chose the island of Borneo as our destination solely because of its wealth of indigenous people. So we started trying to figure out how we could meet people whose lives are connected to the rainforest. We learned of two such tribes, the Penan and the Kelabit who are accessible and open to inviting foreigners into their villages.

I use the term accessible loosely. The only way to visit these people was to fly over the dense rainforest in a little 10 seater plane, so that's what we did. We flew into a village called Bario in the Kelabit Highlands. In Bario (not to be confused with Borneo, the name of the island all of this is on) we spent the night with a Kelabit family in longhouse suspended on stilts. In the longhouse each family has their own living space but they share this huge eating/recreation room. Basically everyone's house is connected and every house has a big front porch that connects to the next house, and the next, and the next for over 100 meters. They are huge and great for community bonding. We saw some cool stuff in the longhouse. We watched a Kelabit woman weaving a mat out of a rainforest plant with her bare hands. We were also lucky to be able to watch a bunch of the women practice a traditional dance that they planned to perform for some guests that were arriving in the village shortly.

The longhouse was a really cool place, great sense of community there. I imagined how cool it would be to live in a longhouse with all my family and friends living so close. But living so deep in the island of Borneo can be lonely for some. At one point our homestay "mom" talked about how lonely her village gets sometimes and that she used to cry every day from loneliness. Her kids have all grown up and moved into cities, as have those of other families in the village. There are only 7,000 Kelabit people left on the entire island. She teared up while she told us all this, it was pretty sad.

The next day we headed towards a smaller Kelabit village called Pa'Lungan, about 4 hours walk away. We wanted to hire a local Kelabit villager there to take us into the rainforest on a two day overnight trek. On our way to Pa'Lungan, the rain started pouring on us. It was pretty relentless and as we were passing through a tiny village a woman offered us her place to wait for the rain to stop. Her and her husband offered us tea and crackers and we told them about our goal. Turns out there was an english speaking villager a couple doors down who has taken foreigners on rainforest treks in the past. He introduced himself as Richard, and we spent the next two days by his side.

Richard was happy to share all kinds of indigenous knowledge with us. He told us about how much he loves living in the rainforest. When you're like Richard and your accustomed to its discomforts the rainforest is actually a great place to live. In his youth he spent a few years living in the city as a salesmen, and currently runs a farm with his family. But Richard loves living in the rainforest best of all. There is food everywhere, you don't have to grow or buy anything. He says its easy to find food when you know where to look for it. Once you get to know Richard, you realize how much living in the rainforest makes sense for him.

You can imagine the problem that arises then when logging and damming initiatives by the Malaysian government threaten the rainforests upon which many Kelabit and Penan base their lives. Its currently a huge social issue there.

Richard loves the rainforest, but its not my kind of place. When you think rainforest, you think colourful frogs, snakes, monkeys, birds, black leopards, tigers. But really you don't see any of those things. You only really find the things that want to find you, like leeches and insects. The coastal rainforest was different. Trekking and sleeping in the inland rainforest was one of the most uncomfortable experiences I've ever done. Crossed off the bucket list, but I have no desire to do that again (unless I had a tent, that might have made the difference).

Rural Cambodia

In Phnom Penh, Cambodia's capital, we met up with a buddhist monk named Sareth Brak. Sareth spearheads an organization that does community development work in a series of rural Cambodian villages within a couple hours drive of the city, one of which is his home village. Chris and I traveled with Sareth to his home village where we stayed with his family and helped him build a library at the elementary school. We worked every day with the younger local monks to lay cement on all the floors and build a garden outside.

Working with the monks was fantastic. They are energetic, playful, hilarious, kind-spirited people. Despite the obvious language barrier, we would always find ways to joke around with each other  mostly involving us making fun of each other's inability to pronounce the other's language. Every day was productive and fun at the same time. And to cap it off, we played football at the end of every work day. So much fun.

One thing that continues to amaze me is how at-home we can feel in a completely foreign environment. Like the hill tribes in Thailand, living in this remote village is very different than back home. We were surrounded by trees and plants that all look strange to us; we used tools that you cant really find back home and mixed all our cement on our own; every meal was much smaller than back home and with much less variety, involving combinations of rice, watermelon, eggs, beef or vegetables- for breakfast lunch and dinner; we showered with cold bucket water; we washed our clothes by scrubbing them by hand; we slept on a thin foam mattress on the floor. But these things are all trivial. Joking around with the monks felt like joking around with a group of buddies back home, playing soccer with the kids felt like playing soccer at the summer camp I work at, Sport Fitness School. These things made me feel so at home in a strange place. It feels so great when people from opposite sides of the earth whose cultures are so different can so seamlessly come together and feel connected to each other  Its the best, most feel-good thing.

But seamless is too strong a word. The fabric of our cross-cultural connection wasn't without its frays. One big thing that bothered me while in this village, something that's bothered me everywhere I go in southeast asia, is that I always feel this big elephant in the room that I'm a rich westerner. This is the kind of thing that happens: We'll be sitting at the table on a work break with the monks and some of the villagers. They tell me about their family, how many brothers and sisters they have. That whole thing. So I take out my iphone to show them pictures of my friends and family too. They find it interesting to see my family, to see snow, to see Canada. Its easier than trying to explain it. They're intrigued, we exchange some laughs. Then I notice one of the villagers starts to really find the iphone itself interesting. He asks me how much it costs and now I feel really uncomfortable. I can't dodge the question, he's curious about the price, the dollar value. When I answer the question, his face tells me exactly what he's thinking: 'holy shit, this guy can spend that much money on a pure luxury item? I've never even seen that much money, I maybe never will.' Then the thought that follows, the jab to the gut: 'Imagine what I could buy with that money?'. And the uppercut to the jaw: 'My family, my community could have so much more.' And then finally the hay-maker  the mortal combat Finish Him: 'why does this guy get that much money? Why does the world let him have all that and not me? I work hard too, does he work harder? No. So why does he get more?'

How would I answer those questions? The cat would rip out my tongue and cut it into pieces.

Truth is, I can't actually read minds. Maybe this guy didn't have all those thoughts. But the fact is that lots of people do and its totally justified. Its not fair, there's no two ways about it. I get more just because my heart took its first beat in a privileged nation, not cause I deserve it any more than anyone else. In that moment, I hate my iphone. I want to throw it away, I want to vow never to waste my money on luxuries. No smartphones, no car, no washing machine, no hot water showers, no cozy mattresses. But I'm not going to do this. These luxuries are standards in my culture. To throw them all away would be extreme. It would make me weird, isolated. I would be lonely. Does this mean I'm selfish? My wealth is my curse.

I sometimes did stupid things like purposely wear my dirtiest shirt because I was ashamed to wear a perfectly clean one around kids that had nothing but dirty clothes, dirt that the hand washing can't get rid of, clothes that I would never see anyone wear back home. I'm obviously insecure about it. I love my home but living here makes me feel ashamed of it at the same time.

So thats the good and the bad from Cambodia. We've flown out of Phnom Penh and just landed in Kuching, Malaysia. The entire city has no power at the moment. Interesting start.

Car Accident in Cambodia

One day into Cambodia and we ended up in an ambulance. No life long injuries or anything, just a 3 inch gash on my head and a hopefully once-in-a-lifetime experience. Definitely the scariest moment of our lives, here's the story:

We arrived late Siem Reap, Cambodia and went to bed early. We planned to get up before sunrise and hire a taxi to take us to Angkor Wat, one of the seven wonders of the world just a few kilometers north of the city. So we did exactly that, got up at 4:30am and were on the road to Angkor Wat by 5 in the pitch black.

Taxis in Cambodia are not cars like back home. They're not even called taxis, they're called tuk-tuks. Passengers of Cambodian tuk-tuks sit in seats on a small trailer that is pulled by a motorbike. The trailer has no surrounding walls or windshield or anything, but has a closed roof with metal bars that stretch across the top. See for yourself in the photos.

As our tuk-tuk driver went over a speedbump, the trailer dislodged and nose-dive crashed into the pavement. Chris was shot out headfirst through the front out onto the pavement upon which his head, arms and hip took the impact. I was shot headfirst into a metal beam across the roof that had plunged down in front of me in the crash. I was dazed and shocked after my head hit but lucky it didn't knock me unconscious. I was still in the tuk-tuk after the crash and I could see my brother still half in the trailer. For the moment, I wasn't sure if he was being crushed by the tuk-tuk at the waist or if he had any serious head or upper body injuries. I couldn't see above his waist from where I was, I didn't know if he was conscious. Scariest moment of my life #1.

I quickly climbed out of the tuk-tuk and by the time I was out he had crawled out too. He said he thought he was ok. I knew it was a good sign that we were both conscious, but we still weren't sure if we had any serious injuries or not. Adrenaline was high and we were pretty stunned so we had to check ourselves for major injuries on the side of the road. Feeling the pain in my head, I put my hand up there and felt the wetness in my hair, but it was still so dark that I couldn't tell if that wetness, now on my hand, was blood or not. It wasn't until I felt the warmth of the blood falling down my face that I realized there was a potentially serious injury on my head. The rate at which blood fell onto my hands was alarming and I knew I needed a hospital quickly. Scariest moment of my life #2.

The street we were on was not in the city, there were no buildings around. But lucky for us, there was a tiny tourist police kiosk thing in a dirt field across the street. About half a dozen officers rushed us across the street and sat us down on little plastic chairs in the dirt field. They shone flashlights in my face to look at the wound. At this point everyone could see it but me and none of them spoke english. I felt really helpless, I had to just watch their panic and hope for the best. Several hands were wiping my head and face with alcohol swabs, some to clean the blood out of my face and eyes while others put pressure on the gash.

Chris was hurt too, definitely hit his head hard, but he was lucky to have more minor injuries distributed along his body. I drew the short straw, having the entire impact of the crash in one spot (not a scratch elswhere!). He managed to get a look at my head gash and assured me that it would definitely need to be stitched right away, but that it should be fine.

Just when I thought the situation was improving, suddenly Chris's legs shot forward and his head went back. He lost consciousness out of nowhere and I could see the leg of his little plastic chair starting to buckle. I hurried out of my chair to grab him under the shoulders from behind while some of the officers, also realizing that Chris was about to hit the dirt, helped guide his body off the chair to the ground. This part was terrifying. Despite being unconscious, his eyes were wider than normal and he had a frighteningly blank stare that you could tell was actually looking at nothing. He was having a seizure. It wasn't a violent seizure, but it was nonetheless terrifying. I gently held his head straight while the officers were trying to wake him up. Scariest moment of my life #3. After about 10-15 seconds he snapped out of it. He got up and felt ok, relatively speaking. A couple of the officers stuck with Chris, some sat me back down and re-cleaned fresh blood off my face, and others called an ambulance.

An ambulance came after about 20 minutes. When I saw it roll up, my first thought (after relief) was that it looked like the scooby doo van, but covered in solid light green rather than hippie flowers. When I got into the ambulance shaggy and scoob were nowehere to be found, confirming that I was not in a cartoon. They had me climb into the back and lay on the stretcher by myself and no one checked for head and neck injuries! I might as well have got picked up in some soccer mom's fat honda with her back seats folded down. The Sunny D would have been refreshing too. But I should give them more credit, they brought me to a doctor after all. Still, I've learned first hand that emergency standards in 3rd world Cambodia are very different than back home. Cars don't all rush out of the way either, and the stretcher didn't have straps or seat belts of any kind. If that thing crashed I'd have been doubly-eff'd. But Chris put it well, lightning doesn't strike the same place twice.

They didn't take me to the international hospital though, they took me to a small emergency care clinic. It looked a bit sketchy to me at first, but it was well equipped. The doctor had local anesthetic (thank god) and sterilized, packaged equipment. I climbed on the operating table and from there could only guess at what they were doing up there. They couldn't speak any english beyond hello and thank you, and my Cambodian was no better. But I knew what was going on when he pulled out scissors and cut my hair to the scalp. For those of you who urged me to shave my head before this trip, you've got your wish. They froze it, stitched it and wrapped it. Good thing I bought that travel health insurance. Worth it! To the right is a picture of me in the clinic afterwards pretending to look comfortable.

Chris and I felt surprisingly good afterwards, just minor headaches for a day or two. No big concussions or anything. We consulted doctors back home too and all is well. I still have to wear a bandage around my head to prevent the cut from getting infected. I guess the thin metal bar scalped me a bit, you can imagine from the shape of the cut in the picture. Made for a definite scar, but at least its in the shape of a smile! This also unfortunately continues my annual head injury streak though. Fingers crossed this was the climax.


Our tuk-tuk driver was so upset at what he had done, so he invited us for dinner. It was really cool to meet his family and learn about their struggles. We learned about the plight of poor Cambodians and about the impact that their country's recent genocide had on him and his family. But that's a whole new post. I'll leave that for another time.

Laos

After the toilet building in Thailand's northern Hill Tribes we were ready for another stint of adventure. We hopped over the border into Laos and boarded a boat on the famous Mekong River. The boat took two full days to arrive at our destination, Luang Prabang.
 
On the slowboat we met a German guy named Dirk who we ended up rooming and traveling with through our entire week and a half in Laos. We went from a team of two to three. A cool thing about backpacking: you meet so many like-minded people from all over the world. And I don't know what it is, but the Germans we've met have all been particularly cool.

The best part about Luang Prabang was talking to Buddhist monks and learning about their meditation practice and their views on life. We found some monks studying English and chatted with them all afternoon. Every monk we met was very welcoming and gave off the most calm vibes. And they're as dedicated as they are approachable. They only eat in the morning, never after 12pm. They do chants, temple chores and meditation every day. They shave their heads and eyebrows once a month to symbolize their liberation from vanity. I studied science, Chris studied anthropology, these guys study how to be good people and live modest lives. They're pretty incredible people.

We learned that every morning at dawn the locals line the streets to offer food to the monks, its called collecting the morning alms. The morning alms serve to a) supply monks with food since they're not allowed to handle any money to purchase food with, and b) to give the locals the opportunity to do a good deed every day to generate good karma. The pictures below are from the morning alms.

The only troubling thing about our discussion with the monks was learning about the impact tourism has had on them. Tourism in Luang Prabang has grown so much in last few years that a huge number of locals have moved out to more rural villages. Their properties have been replaced by tons of guesthouses, restaurants, bars, etc, many of which are run by western owners. As a result, there are not enough locals participating in the morning alms, making it difficult for the monks to commit to their traditions. This is just one example of how tourism impacts their culture.

Being a tourist myself, I couldn't help but feel guilty. By paying for food and accommodation, I am supporting this city's transition from a quaint Laos village to a western tourist hotspot at the expense of locals, including these monks who I've decided are some of the most incredible people I've ever met.

But on the other hand, the growing tourism in Laos is a great thing for their economy. Lots of locals have left Luang Prabang, but many of the locals that have stayed have learned to adapt to and take advantage of the constant waves of tourists in their city and now enjoy a higher standard of living. By spending my money here, I'm also supporting the city's growth and its people. So I guess its good for those who take advantage of the change, but I lean in favor of the monks. Either way, it seems impossible to know whether you're having a positive or negative impact on a place when you're a tourist. The answer is always a bit of both.

We eventually ended up talking to the head monk of one of the temples and he invited us into his temple to meditate with his community of monks. We watched them do their chants, then we meditated with them for half an hour. It was a cool experience, but my inflexible legs were not pleased with half an hour cross-legged.

After Luang Prabang, we ventured to a couple quiet villages where we did some relaxing, some cave exploring (that badass below was our tour guide), and even played some bacce ball with a group of trashed rice farmers. All in good fun.
 

Again, the facebook album tell those stories better. Laos was really quiet and laid back, but now we've moved on into Cambodia which has been nothing short of chaotic. Update soon.