International Travelling

Hangoga, Marina Bay Sands, Singapore

2012-02-04T10:54:00.002-08:00

I wasn't planning to come here (10 Bayfront Avenue #B1-01B, 6688-7385). I actually came by to check out the Indian place next door, but when I walked by this place I smelled fatty beef being grilled on a flame. I inexplicably couldn't pull myself away, and somehow found myself sitting at a table waiting for food.

I ended up with this bulgogi, which they brought out on a little hot plate rather than using the proper grill underneath. And it was delicious: thin slices of beef marinated ever so sweetly without being annoying, all resting on slivers of onion that caramelized at the bottom. I gobbled it up in seconds. Too bad the banchan provided was so skimpy though.

Interestingly, these guys appear related to Kraze Burgers - although they are on complete opposite sides of the shopping mall. And the aforementioned aroma that drew me in here? Yep, it stuck to my clothes too. I saw a sign that said that they offered to spray you with some deodorizer after leaving, but I didn't get it.

Luxor, Egypt

2012-02-04T10:54:00.001-08:00

Walking along the street just after dusk I was approached by a boy of about 15 with tattered jeans and long, dark, stringy hair.
'Taxi?'
'No, thanks.'
'You looking for hotel?'
'Nope, got one.'
'Felucca?'
'No thanks, done that.'
'How about tour to Karnak.'
'Done.'
'You want drugs?'
'No, thanks.'
'Sex? How about sex?'
I stopped and looked him up and down.
'Yeah, but you're a little young for me.'

What a fantastic place Egypt is - the history, the monuments, the people, the pyramids, the Nile. I loved everything about it except for the touts, and the touts in Luxor were the most persistent sons-of-bitches I'd ever experienced anywhere in the world, and that includes India.

Cairo, Egypt

2012-02-04T10:54:00.000-08:00

Going it alone is my preferred traveling mode, especially if I'm on a 6-month trip. I've never traveled with any member of my family, for the simple reason that I don't have a family. Except for my daughter, whom I traveled throughout Asia with, I'm on my own. However, I've traveled with a few good friends, and when in Cairo, I met up with an old friend at the Nile Hilton. Although it was comfortable, and right beside the Cairo Museum and Tahir Square, it's not really my type of accommodation.

Taking a taxi from Cairo to the pyramids in Giza will take you through stunning ghettos: mile after mile after mile of red brick buildings that are surrounded by heaps of burning trash, donkeys, and smashed-up cars.

Book Swap at Cafe 164

2012-02-04T10:53:00.002-08:00

Just a quick reminder that the Travelling Suitcase Library will be having another book swap tomorrow, the 10th December, at Cafe 164 between 11-3ish.

We'll have the usual book swap, so bring your tomes, and pick up your festive read. Plus the gorgeous and talented @Decknologist will have his decks set up to spin some festive "wax" (look at me being all down with the kids!) so tweet him your requests.

Cafe 164 is next door to the Leeds Gallery, opposite the bus station, and sells a wide range of teas, coffees and soft drinks. If you are desperate for a festive tipple, please do bring a bottle!

Cheers, and see you then,
BookElf xxx

Cairo - Giza

2012-02-04T10:53:00.001-08:00

Beats 'n' Books

2012-02-04T10:53:00.000-08:00

I'll be collaborating again with the gorgeous Decknologist (whose decks I was next to at the LS6 Beer Fest Day 2) and Cafe 164 to bring you another brilliant book swap, this time with a more festive feel, on Saturday 10 December, from 11-3.

Once again, the lovely people at Cafe 164 will be serving cake and tea (and calorie-brownies, hmmmm, calorie-brownies...) but if you do fancy a beer, its BYOB.

Last book swap ended up with us having a good ol' rant about Game of Thrones (like all meetings with bookies are at the moment! Just got another convert last night...) and myself, and two others, waxing lyrical about Margaret Atwood.

And of course, its a festive season, so Mr DJ shall be 'deck'ing the halls with beats reet jolly (and I thank you...)

So start collecting your tomes now and get your winter book-on!

xxx

Thai Tantric, Orchard Towers, Singapore

2012-02-04T03:17:00.000-08:00

Yep - it's a third place serving Thai food at Orchard Towers. This one was just around the corner from Korat (400 Orchard Road #03-23, 9056-3958), but with much fewer seats. And yet all of those seats were filled early this evening, whereas Korat was completely empty. I'm not sure how true this is, but someone said that people from the Thai Embassy come over here to eat too.

All of that got my hopes up too high; I ended up walking away unsatisfied. Part of it was my own fault for ordering the wrong thing; a soup that I got was not the spicy glass noodle soup that I thought I was ordering. I also suspect that part of it was bebause they intentionally toned down the spices on our dishes. But some of it was simply just bad ingredients; the prawns in our tom yum soup above had clearly seen better days.

Well, at least the veggies that we got were fresh. And I'm still willing to come back as long as someone suggests the right dishes to order. But frankly, I got more excited by the shop downstairs that was selling pizza by the slice. I was too full to eat it, but it smelled like it would hit the spot after a few beers.

2011-11-25T23:04:00.000-08:00

George Carlin:

'I know, some people don't like you to mention certain things. Some people don't want you to say this. Some people don't want you to say that. Some people think if you mention some things they might happen.....some people are really fucking stupid!

Did you ever notice that? How many really stupid people you run into during the day? Carry a little pad and pencil with you. You'll wind up with thirty or forty names by the end of the day. Look at it this way: Think of how stupid the average person is and then realize that half of them are stupider than that. And it doesn't take you very long to spot one of them does it? Takes you about eight seconds. You'll be listening to some guy......and you'll think.......'this guy is fucking stupid!' Then there are some people, they're not stupid......their full of shit. That doesn't take very long to spot either, does it? Takes you about the same amount of time. You'll be listening to some guy..and thinking, 'well, he's fairly intelligent, ......ahh, he's full of shit!' Then there are some people, they're not stupid, they're not full of shit...they're fucking nuts!'
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Juanita, a woman I taught high school with in Taiwan, had to leave the country in order to renew her visa, so she asked me if I wanted to go along with her to Hong Kong. As she was a missionary, she said that we could stay at the Mission House right in the heart of the city. It's not free, she said, but it won't cost much.

We arrived late that night and took a taxi into town, and after traipsing the same block for what seemed like hours looking for the place, I looked up and saw a banner draped across a building that said JESUS IS LOVE AND JESUS IS THE LIGHT. That’s gotta be the joint, I said, pointing it out to my friend.

While Juanita watched our bags, I went in and climbed up to the fourth floor and knocked on the only door I saw. An Asian fellow with about as much warmth as a urine-soaked blanket answered and, not understanding what I was saying I presumed, closed the door in my face while I was still talking. I felt like kicking the door. Born-again Christian my ass. I went back downstairs to Juanita and told her what had happened, so she went upstairs and knocked again and explained to him who we were and that we had been given permission to stay at the Mission. She called down to me and I dragged our stuff up the stairs.

The welcome mat was a missionary from China, who was staying there with his Taiwanese wife, and when we walked in with our bags I could barely look at him. As we unloaded our bags in the bedroom I asked Juanita what if I had been a person who was in need and I was asking for help? What then?

I relished the thought of a sleep after the long haul to get there and didn't want this bird to get me down, but I would have stood a better chance at getting into heaven than getting a good night’s sleep because my bed was a foot too short, my mattress was thin and lumpy and covered in suspicious stains, and my pillow might have been stuffed at a rock quarry. A metallic smell from the garbage that wafted in through our open window made my throat ache, but what really topped it all off was Juanita farting and snoring louder than a freight train blasting through an underground tunnel. I barked over at her a few times, telling her to turn over, but that usually lasted for about five minutes before she was back at it.

The next morning I woke up all groggy, but happy to be in Hong Kong, and went to take a shower while Juanita remained wrapped up in her sleeping bag. The deadbeat Christian had told us to flick the switch to heat the water before getting in the shower so that’s what I did, but when I returned after half an hour and turned the coldwater tap on, the water that came barreling out of the spout was so scalding hot I burned my frigging arm almost right down to the bone. I ran to Juanita. Get me to the hospital! A pharmacy! I need a doctor! Jesus Christ, I'm fucking scarred for life here!

As we were putting salve over my burn and bandaging my arm, the Chinese bj came out of his room and said, oh, I should have told you to watch out for the shower because it's dangerous, and, seeing as he had been there for over two months and he didn’t think to mention it, I thought it was just pure malice that he hadn’t. The shower was a lethal weapon for God’s sake.

After a long day sightseeing, we arrived back at the Mission, and the second night wasn't much better than the first. At 6:00 the next morning I heard a dreadful pounding on a piano with what seemed to be some sort of gospel music being sung. I got up and closed the door and tried to go back to sleep but the door closing brought a woman down the hall to our door. She opened it up and turned on the light. She looked at us contemptuously, as if she'd just caught us in the act of stuffing Bibles into our knapsacks. Who are you? Where are you from? Why are you here? Who let you in? How many people do have to dislike in a weekend, I thought as I turned over while Juanita went out to talk with her. She was another missionary from America in Hong Kong, and was involved in some program or another, but when she came and went during the night, I never talked to her.

The lackluster Christian was gone; he and his Taiwanese wife had left, so Juanita took their room that night, but not two hours after crawling into bed there started up a truckload of hammering and banging upstairs, just over her head. I heard a muffled bit of it and chuckled. Whoever said that revenge isn't sweet never got revenge. She finally got up and came into my room and told me that she was going to pray and consult her Bible about the noise.

I guess Jesus was busy because after an hour of prayer she went upstairs and knocked on the door of the apartment. There was no answer so she knocked at another door across the hall. The man who answered told her that nobody lived on that floor but him and that he hadn't heard any noise. We both thought it was strange, but when Juanita discussed it with the old missionary later on that day, she also told Juanita that nobody lived above the Mission, and that furthermore, the apartment above had supposedly been vacant for years. They finally reasoned that all the noise must have been coming from demons. Did you call out the demons in Jesus’ name? asked the old missionary. Juanita replied that she did. I prayed for an hour, and then I prayed some more in the chapel. There are many evil spirits who would seek to destroy us, said the old missionary, so I think we should pray and ask God to bless his mission.

By the time Juanita and I were having coffee later that morning I thought I’d heard it all. She'd tried to get me to 'come to Jesus' a few times. Then, she started in about Israel and how they deserved to have their own country because that's where Jesus was supposedly going to touch down. I asked her how he was planning to get back to Israel. She replied, from out of the clouds he will appear, it's written in the Bible, and that time is soon. Everyone will see him coming. How would we see him coming? I used to ponder that one, she said, it really bothered me. But now that there are satellite dishes and the world can tune in to any station at any time, the whole world could watch and rejoice. Everybody will see it. Okay, but what if I'm at the bank cashing a check? I'll miss it. How will I know? What if I don’t have a television? A lot of people don't watch television. Besides, I said, he'd probably be shot down by an American-made smart bomb before he even got within 200 miles of the coastline.

She wanted to talk further, but I was too tired. I decided I would fly back to Taiwan that night and went that day to change my ticket. I was missing my own bed. When we got back to the Mission, we swept our room and cleaned the bathroom and gave them $40 for our three nights. I was choked because I felt they owed me money for putting up with their corny asses and suffering a burn almost down to the bone. But one thing is for sure, I know Jesus would have given me a discount.

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In spite of our accommodations, we did manage to do quite a bit in the three days we were there.

Ferry across the water to the Ngong Ping cable car

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Ngong Ping Cable Car

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Llama Island - Picnic Bay

International Travel Insurance

2011-10-30T18:18:00.000-07:00

If you spend extended period of time overseas, or if you are a non-US citizen who spends long periods of time in the US, you should consider what type of health insurance will best meet your coverage needs. Those who spend at least six months at a time travelling abroad may not be covered by the same health insurance plan that they have in their home country.

Before leaving their home country, travelers should consider purchasing an international travel insurance. With the right travel insurance plan, travelers can feel confident that they are saving money and will receive good medical care for the duration of their overseas stay.

Short term travel insurance typically only offer emergency coverage, while long term travel insurance includes coverage for preventative care after a waiting period. Long term plans include coverage for routine doctor visits along with a high level of coverage for annual health screenings and general medical care.

These insurance plans, like those offered by Global Citizen, include a wide range of coverage with varying deductibles designed to match anyone's budget and medical coverage needs. Whether you are travelling for business or for pleasure, it's important to be able to select a deductible that will meet your needs.

Unlike short term plans, international travel insurance covers care received both outside the US and inside the US, for those who occasionally return home to visit during their overseas stay. Travelers won't have any gaps in coverage if they travel between countries with this type of insurance plan. With health insurance, coverage is offered for surgery, inpatient care, physical therapy and prescriptions, and includes coverage for doctor visits. Reducing your medical bills and receiving quality medical care while in a different country allows you to save money while traveling overseas.

To protect you and your family while travelling abroad, international travel insurance offers affordable rates and many deductible options. You won't have to worry about travelling back and forth between the US and your home country - you will be protected during your entire stay.

If you are preparing for an extended overseas stay, you need to consider purchasing a worldwide health insurance. No matter where your destination is, with the right international insurance, you can receive coverage for emergencies and receive high-quality medical care for the duration of your travels.

International Flying Travel Tips

2011-10-30T18:16:00.000-07:00

Are you neophyte in travelling abroad? Whether you are always travelling or its your first time, travelling out of the country requires a lot of precautions and guidelines to make your travel smooth sailing. Having international flying travel tips handy is the way to go. Most likely you want to travel with less hassle, cheaper and faster than you will have or ever have before.

However, you should be patient enough to do a lot of research. One of the most useful international flying travel tips is choosing an airline company to purchase your ticket from. Try to search around which company offers quality service to its passengers with good safety facilities as well. Another tip is choosing an airport that is not well-known or smaller since often times they have cheaper fares compared to bigger airports that are well-known.

Next stop for one international flying travel tips, the ticket. With the technology we have now, e-ticket has been useful. A lot of companies have used e-ticket and overall been useful to passengers and the companies alike. With e-ticket, print out the e-ticket out from your computer and instantly you got your ticket. With e-ticket, just reprint the ticket and your worries about getting it lost will be gone. E-tickets do save time and effort on your part. Choosing between the traditional ticket to e-ticket, might as well choose e-ticket for your convenience.

Another international flying travel tips to consider are the luggage and choosing a seat. For luggage, if you have planned to be away from home for a 3-4 days or shorter than that, opt for having carry only or have hand carry type of luggage. You can bring a bag which you can carry and bring inside the plane just place it inside the cabin. With carry only, it is less likely to be stolen or lost since you can keep an eye on it. Choosing a seat when riding in a plane will definitely depend upon your preference. If you want to view the clouds or the land or sea below having the window seat would be best. For freedom in terms of moving around it will be the aisle seat. As for the middle seat, if you are a friendly type of person and want have two friends instantly, middle seat is highly recommended.

These are among the many international flying travel tips. If you want to learn more on how to travel safely and other precautions on travel check it all out on the web for further information.

Morley Lit Fest Competition

2011-10-13T04:19:00.000-07:00

Very exciting.... we've managed to score a couple of free tickets to Morley Lit Fest Mills and Boon event on Saturday night!
This celebration of the romance genre (which you know I just lurve) is at a 1950s themed diner and includes readings, romantic crooning, comedy and bespoke cocktails.
If you would like the two free tickets, all you have to do is email me bookelfleeds (at) gmail (dot) com, with the subject 'I Got The Love!' (or something equally cheesy!)
First email in wins the tickets....GO ROMANCE LOVERS GO!!!!

Calling For Volunteers

2011-10-03T07:10:00.000-07:00

CAT Trailblazer October 2011

Only three spots available!

MYCAT and DWNP are conducting a CAT Trailblazer from the 17^th to 23^rd October 2011 and calling for three members of the Malaysian public to be part of the programme. The basic information about the CAT Trailblazer October 2011 is as listed below:

1. Location:	Taman Negara Pahang border (a specific location to be announced later)
2. Date:	17 to 23 October 2011
3. Duration:	Actual time in the forest is 5 days/4 nights. Including travelling time to Taman Negara, 7 days in total.
4. Personnel:	One team of 6 people consisting of - 2 DWNP staff 1 MYCAT Secretariat’s Office staff 3 CAT volunteers
5. Expenses:	No participation fee imposed, but all costs incurred such as fuel, food, insurance and lodging will be borne by the participating individuals.
6. Equipment:	- DWNP staff will bring a set of equipment necessary for border maintenance works. - MYCAT will provide a basic first aid kit and volunteers are required to bring personal camping gear and machete (only those who are comfortable using machete).

Download the information sheet to learn more about this trip.

The candidates must be above 18 years of age, in good health and physical condition, and must be confident that they can complete the trip with little assistance. They must also have prior experience in backpacking and camping in the Malaysian rainforest. All volunteers will sign an indemnity form and be covered by medical insurance. There will be a briefing in Kuala Lumpur as soon as three candidates are selected.

If you are interested, and can commit yourself for the duration of the period, please contact us as soon as possible at mycat.so@malayantiger.net. Feel free to forward this email to your contacts.

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2009

2011-09-27T06:57:00.000-07:00

I want to write recent stuff, but in order to maintain the chronology, need to update things a bit. So, go with 2009 first. As mentioned in the end of the previous, we got back to Beijing, and indeed stayed there the whole year. There are a few new restaurants and now the vegan club has reactivated, but otherwise it's much as before. Large, crowded, polluted, but friendly and with excellent food.

We did have a summer holiday in the Nordic countries though. In Tampere, Finland, the only vegan restaurant I mentioned earlier went bankrupt, sadly. That reduced the eating out options to one vegetarian restaurant, and even that open only during lunch time on weekdays. Quality not really worth cheering about either.

In Beijing there came and went a favourite restaurant, the Loving Vegetarian, which there's probably no need to review as it is indeed gone. The Vegan Social Club continued meetings, but rather than regular meetings in restaurants, potlucks in member's houses became the norm.

With reduced travel funding there wasn't an awful lot of that either. But there was Isabel's first visit to Europe in the summer, visiting Finland, Sweden, and Norway. While most of the time went in Finland, probably the most special part was visiting the fjords in Norway. We went over land and sea; Stockholm is quite good for veggie people but I'll get back to that on the more recent things, and Oslo was ok also. From there we took the train to Bergen, a beautiful town by the water but not so great food-wise.

Then we went by boat over to Flåm, with gorgeous fjord scenery all around. Flåm had even less when it comes to food, but the big hotel in town would cook decent veggie food and grilling something outside was always an option. We went kayaking, saw porpoises, and had lots of fun!

Back in China in the autumn we made another trip to Sichuan, but never mind that, wanting to get on to a bit more recent things. Here's a couple more photos from 2009 though.

One Week To Go...

2011-09-24T05:08:00.000-07:00

Just a quick reminder post that next Saturday 1st October we are hosting an Autumnal Books Swap at Cafe 164 from 11-3 ish.
The Cafe shall be selling lovely cakes and teas and that, but please feel to BYOB if you fancy a beer.

I've got loads of lovely books at the moment, but I am able to take donations that shall be taken to book swaps or distributed across the various book swap points growing around the city so please bring your tomes.

Jess xxx

Guardian Book Swap

2011-09-16T06:25:00.000-07:00

As you may have noticed, The Guardian online are running a book swap weekend. Of course, this is highly exciting and I hope shall be very successful.

Anyone wanting to actually meet other book worms, we are having our usual monthly book swap this Sunday in Arcadia Bar in Headingley from about 5ish. The book club shall be meeting (see the LeedsBookClub blog for details on that) but anyone wanting to just swap books, please come on down!

The TSL is bursting at the moment, and having just moved house I am now able to take donations yet again, so anyone clearing out their shelves, you know how much we love you... and any books that I don't think would be that great in the suitcase I'll either donate to charity, or send the children's ones to the inner city Birmingham primary school we mentioned in earlier posts!

See you Sunday!

Jess xx

Jaipur - Amber (Amer) Fort - Palace of Mirrors

2011-09-11T23:41:00.000-07:00

Incredible Jaipur

Yeah, I totally ride elephants everyday. Aimee was so comfortable up there with her bunny riding up to the Amber Fort.

I shared a room at the Jaipur Inn with Sheila, an English girl who was on her way to Australia to study nursing, and we hooked up with her for a few days to see all the sights around Jaipur. I'd recommend the Inn, it had a rooftop terrace, it was roomy and clean and a great place to connect with other travelers.

We visited the Amber Fort, also known as the Palace of Mirrors. It was hot and dusty and a bit out of town, but the palace was deserted when we finally reached the top.

On our way to the fort in our modern transportation - a bicycle rickshaw.

The fort was really up there

Snake charmers are everywhere

Aimee inside fort. The walls are covered with glass and mirrors.

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Aimee and Sheila

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Halls in the fort and a bathing pool

Looking down at Jaipur from the fort

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Around town in Jaipur

The Wind Palace or the Pink Palace)

Sitting outside the Pink Palace was this sadhu

The largest sun clock in the world is in Jaipur

Autumnal Book Swap

2011-09-06T03:47:00.000-07:00

After a relatively quiet summer, I'm realy pleased to announce a special book swap shall be taking place in new Leeds venue Cafe 164 on 1 October between 11-3

Cafe 164 is a new arts cafe, selling all kinds of sweet treats and teas. The Book Swap shall be very informal, with loads of opportunities to meet people who are into what you're into, and rent merrily about tomes you love, live, or loathe.

The Travelling Suitcase Library shall of course be rocking up with as widest selection of books as can be fit into a suitcase, but please bring your tomes.

Cakes and hot drinks shall be available from Cafe, but anyone wanting a beer that early in the day is welcome to BYOB.

Looking forward to seeing lots of book lovers there!

The Taj Mahal

2011-08-10T09:42:00.000-07:00

The Taj Mahal, Shan Jahan's monument to his wife, is more impressive when you stand in front of it.

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Varanasi Tourism - The City That Never Sleeps

2011-08-01T02:48:00.000-07:00

Although it was beautiful to observe in the early morning light, the Ganges is one of the most polluted river systems in the world. Knowing that Indians were in the water bathing and brushing their teeth and performing puja amongst partially burned dead bodies that had been chucked in from the ghats, garbage, dead animals, excrement from open sewers running straight into the river and industrial waste, made my skin crawl. All household waste seemed to be dumped in the river at will also, with the ubiquitous plastic everywhere. Dead holy men were also taken out about 100 metres and dumped in the strong current that runs south through the center of the river. I even saw people drinking the water. Here are some truly shocking pictures of what I'm talking about, but don't click on this site if you're squeamish. What really took me by surprise were some German tourists that I had met who were heading out to do 'puja' with the Indians early in the morning. I told them they were insane, but they laughed and ran off.

After finally arriving in Varanasi (the religious center of the world for Hindus) from Gaya, we took a tonga to the ghats on the Ganges River. Early the next morning we hired a rowboat to see the sunrise on the Ganges. It was amazing. It's the best time to see the Ganges, as pilgrims come down to the river to perform their puja (prayers).

The main cremation ghat is the Manikarnika, and many funeral processions wind their way through town before ending up at this burning ghat. I walked down the bathing steps to the water to watch as two doms (outcastes) washed an old man's body. He bobbed up and down stiffly in the water, his old puckered mouth gaping open as the two doms threw water over him and chatted, as if they were rinsing off a fish. Then they carried the body back up the bathing stairs and wrapped him in a white shroud before placing him at the top of a funeral pyre of wood, which was then lit. He was now released from the eternal wheel of 'moksha,' which means death and rebirth.

My daughter and I decided to go out on the water again. Walking above the bathing steps we were constantly hassled by touts, but the way to handle them is to stare straight ahead and pretend you've never seen or heard them. They melt away quickly when they see that you're never going to acknowledge them.

Six nuns were already in the boat when we stepped on board. Then we were out on the river and Aimee reached over the boat and splashed water at me for fun. 'No!' I screeched, cringing as if I'd been hit by carbolic acid. 'Don't do that! It's filthy!'

Our hotel was tucked in amongst the winding alleyways behind the bathing steps. The alleys were splattered in cow shit and once I saw an Indian man get covered with crap as a cow just suddenly let loose. Once I was stuck behind a cow and I had to get somebody to move him. Cows are sacred in India and they're allowed to roam at will. Traffic will sometimes come to a standstill until a cow gets off the road. It's crazy.

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What happens to the mountain of cow shit everywhere? It gets scooped up by hand by women carrying plastic buckets who then take it to the river where it's shaped and plastered against the walls of the bathing steps. Once dried, it's used as fuel for fire.

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One night a few of us were invited to hear Varanasi's great sitar player, although I can't remember his name. He gave music lessons. We sat there mesmerized until, of course, the usual power outage. He didn't skip a beat and played in the dark until someone lit a candle. It was fabulous.

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The streets were packed and I had to hold on tight to my daughter's hand so she didn't get caught up.

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This little guy was f-a-l-l-i-n-g over.

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Sarnath

Not too far from Varanasi is Sarnath. After the Buddha was enlightened he went and gave his first sermon at Sarnath. Read the Footprints of Gautama the Buddha by Marie Beuzeville Byles. It's fantastic.

Asoka Column

Dhamek Stupa

The Ruins

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Travel only with thy equals or thy betters; if there are none, travel alone. – The Dhammapada

Mahabodhi Temple Complex - Bodh Gaya, India

2011-07-27T05:11:00.000-07:00

Aimee (my 9-year-old daughter) and I left early from Calcutta for the train to Bodhi Gaya, one of the holiest sites in India. In India there is a women's queue and a men's queue for tickets. Thank God for that because we would have waited hours. There are also separate compartments for women on the train and thank God for that, too, because it would have been hell having to put up with the hacking, spitting, ball scratching and nose picking that comprises male social etiquette in Asia. We rode in a small compartment with a grandmother, her daughter and her baby grandchild. They were very sweet.

Everything was perfect until we went to get off the train. We gathered up our things and stood in the aisle as it screeched into Gaya. It was dark, and peering out the window I couldn't see anything because there were no lights on the platform. I re-adjusted the knapsack on my back and took Aimee's hand and we waited for the doors to open so we could get off quickly, but when the door to the train opened a wall of water carrying trunks and suitcases and boxes and chickens surged onto the train and thrust us all backwards towards the seats and empty compartments we'd just vacated. Everybody started screaming as we reeled against the stampeding hordes galloping by in their mad scramble to find seats, thrusting Aimee and I and everybody else out of the way. I hung on to her and for a moment, I thought we were going to be crushed or suffocated. I told her to hang on to the back of my knapsack and DON'T LET GO FOR CHRIST'S SAKE and then I leaned into the surging crowd and pushed and shoved and swore and elbowed my way through until we finally got to the door of the train and jumped down on to the platform. I could feel Aimee's hand clutching the back of my knapsack as she collapsed beside me. I lost a shoe but we were okay. The grandmother and her family had made it off the train, but they were all traumatized and crying.

The platform we found ourselves on reminded me of the movie Blade Runner. There were no lights, only the ubiquitous flickering of candles and small fires. The smell of urine and smoke permeated the air and I had to hold my breath. I tripped over somebody lying on the ground and that's when I realized just how many people were camping out and making it their permanent address. Babies wrapped up in ratty blankets slept beside their mothers and orphans in tattered, filthy clothing wandered about asking for handouts. I didn't go anywhere near the bathroom, which was just an outside platform with holes. When the kids spotted us they all ran towards us in a mob with their hands out, jumping up and down. Backsheesh! Baksheesh! Baksheesh! They pulled on my arm and tugged at my bags and I wished I could have given them all money because they were such a sorry looking lot. I pushed past them and into the station where I was surprised to see that a cow had also taken up residence and was scrounging around for his dinner.

Men on horses wearing turbans, bullock carts, tongas, cycle-rickshaws as well as bicycles crowded the road while cows and goats roamed freely. It seemed I had either traveled back to the fifteenth century or traveled ahead into a post-nuclear future. We passed food stalls, restaurants, kiosks, and people drinking tea until we came to a small hotel. I asked a fellow wearing a turban sitting outside what looked to be a hotel whether he had a room and he nodded and picked up a gas lamp and took us up a dark flight of stairs to a cramped room on the first floor. It had one double bed and a table and we had our own bathroom - a hole in the floor. It wasn't the Ritz but then, it wasn't the refugee camp I'd left behind at the train station, either.

Of course, everything looked different in the morning. We visited the Great Buddha Statue. It was massive. For a better look at the Great Buddha Statue go to this link.

Then on to the Mahabodhi Temple complex.

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When we were in Bodhgaya we stayed at the massive Tourist Bungalows, a barracks that was completely empty when we were there. There were more than 10 large rooms with at least 25 bunks in each one. It was very strange and quite spooky staying there all a-l-o-n-e at night. We usually wandered down a dark walkway to get to our dormitory room at night because the power wasn't very reliable.

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The poor are everywhere in India. Some live their whole lives sleeping on the pavements. This is just outside the wall of the Mahabodhi temple complex.

An Unpleasant Sight in Calcutta

2011-07-20T01:35:00.000-07:00

The line-up at Calcutta immigration went on forever, and it took forever to finally get out of the airport. Wandering out into the dark was scary and I was glad I brought my flashlight. In a big, dusty yard across from the exit, people were climbing into banged up tin cans that might have been dragged out of a wrecker's yard and hammered back into shape, but not wanting to be left behind, Aimee and I climbed on to the last bus leaving. It was cramped and dark and stuffed with people and luggage and the ceiling lights blinked on and off as we bounced over the road to the highway. I had no idea where we were going.

Garbage lay in heaps and red spittle juice was splattered on every surface. Trucks, cars, bicycles, street vendors, smoke and people choked the streets and every so often the smell of urine blew into the bus through the cracked windows. What have I got myself into now? Down the middle of the main thoroughfare of Calcutta a long, deep tunnel had been dug out where people had lit fires and set up camp. Lean-tos made of corrugated tin, wire, blankets and cardboard had been erected and people were cooking and canoodling on banged-up furniture that looked like it probably came from a dump site.

Dust swirled outside and blew into our bus as I asked the Indian woman sitting beside me why the street had been dug out, leaving mountains of dirt for everyone to walk around. She replied that it was a subway system that hadn't yet been finished and because the city had run out of money, there was no telling when it would be. It went on for blocks.

My daughter frequently grabbed my arm. 'Mommy, look at that!' Both men and women in rags staggered about as if in a daze, and whenever the bus stopped, filthy children ran around the outside of the bus with their hands outstretched. Baksheesh! Baksheesh! Baksheesh!

We finally arrived at a main square and I got out my guidebook and looked again at the hotel section of Calcutta. I didn't feel any threat from anybody even though many people stood and stared at us, but by this time it was eleven at night, not the time to be wandering around looking for a place. A taxi driver let us off on Sudder Road, a tourist district with hostels and hotels. Everything was booked and my mind sank until one hotel owner said we could stay in his office. While we were setting up, a tall, black fellow wandered in and said with a big smile, 'you can share my room if you want.' I got a good vibe from him and so did Aimee. He had three beds in his room so we brought our stuff in and unpacked. He was Chuba Paul Moneke from Nigeria, and he really did us a favor.

The streets were quieter and shops were just closing up when I stepped outside for a moment to take a break. Out of the shadows an old man with bowed legs and wearing a filthy white dhoti appeared, and as he trudged past I thought, 'that old buzzard hasn't had a wash in at least ten years. Holy shit.' His hair was matted and covered in bits of fluff and dirt that he'd picked up from sleeping on the ground. His feet were tarred and he was covered in scabs and scars. Suddenly, about thirty feet away from where I was standing he stopped and put his back to the wall and removed his dhoti. He half squatted, resting his butt against the wall, and proceeded to take a huge crap that sputtered out of him like a cow. After he finished, he turned around and looked down at it then peed into his hand and washed his butt. A shopkeeper came out and started screaming at him and hit him and pointed to the mess. The old guy didn't miss a beat as he stooped down, picked up the dhoti where he'd dropped it on the sidewalk and nonchalantly wiped his butt. He then tossed it over the soggy mess and trudged off once again down the sidewalk. He was stark naked. The shopkeeper shook his fist and yelled curses as the old chip disappeared without so much as a howdy doody. Welcome to India.

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Travelling to India was a huge step for me because I was nervous about bringing my 9-year-old daughter there. I kept thinking I'd probably get sick and die from either food poisoning or some nasty disease because I'd heard so many disease horror stories. When I was in Malaysia (in Marang) I'd met a young couple who'd been all through India, and even though they were then heading down to Bali, they missed India so much they were going to cut their trip short to go back. It was a sign for me, because up until meeting them I couldn't decide whether to go to India or not, and hearing their positive stories I decided it must have been divine intervention. I decided to travel to India.

Temple of the Cosmic Buddha - Borobudur

2011-07-13T00:44:00.000-07:00

No trip to Indonesia would be complete without visiting Borobudur, a Buddhist temple in central Java.

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What I Learned In Bali, Indonesia

2011-07-08T22:00:00.000-07:00

What I learned in Bali was that the greatest place to visit and stay for weeks was Ubud. The culture is so rich with dancing and music and the arts. It was a great experience for my daughter Aimee, who was turning 9 when we were there. We had a big party for her. When I took her out of school months previously her principal said 'but she won't be getting an education for a year!' My only reply was 'Culture? Language? History? Geography?' She experienced it all here. I'm of the opinion that all children should visit other countries, even make it part of a school curriculum, because it's well worth it. Maybe then as adults they would be more tolerant of other cultures.

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Most of the kids learned Balinese dance, and it was amazing the way they curled their fingers almost backwards.

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Aimee's 9th birthday.

Bali High

2011-06-29T00:56:00.000-07:00

Bali. What a gorgeous little island. The Balinese? Fabulous people. From Suryaba on the mainland Cameron, Aimee and I took a bus to Denpasar, Bali. The bus ride was the most terrifying I've ever experienced with the bus driver in some kind of hurry to get on schedule. All of us, including all the other travelers, were just praying that we'd get there in one piece. Cameron went up to film the driver. He thought it was all good fun, but then I already knew by then that he was crazy. I don't know how I've managed to make it through to now with all the crappy bus rides I've been on.

From Denpasar we took another bus to Kuta, the main party central in Bali, where you can buy everything from leather goods to cheap imitation Indonesian prints for next to nothing. We got rooms at the Bali Dwipa Guest House for a good deal. It started to rain while we were there, and it never stopped. The roads were flooded out one night. I loved it though, because I love thunder storms.

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Here's Aimee heading into the temple with all the other ladies but they wouldn't let her in, Balinese only. The monkey sitting on his platform was stuck there all day, with nothing to do, chained up. It was pretty cruel the way they treated some of their 'pets' and I wanted to let him go. He was pretty sad.

Jakarta, Indonesia

2011-06-29T00:44:00.000-07:00

From Singapore I flew to Indonesia with Aimee and Cameron, the crazy man I met in Singapore who didn't even know he was entering Singapore with smoke in his knapsack. A bit of a character. Jakarta was horrid. A big dirty city and a dusty, dirty ride to the city from the airport. The roads were dark and crowded along the way, probably from power outages, so it was a bit spooky, with people just looming up out of the dark. We stayed in a hostel in the Jalan Jaksan area and flopped out as we were exhausted from the travel.

We picked up train tickets to Suryaba after waiting an hour in line. The city reminds me of Bangkok but I prefer Bangkok. It was sad to see so much misery that lives along the train tracks. The people were desperately poor. I didn't get a chance to take any other pictures other than these.

I Love West Leeds Festival

2011-06-23T03:23:00.000-07:00

The Travelling Suitcase Library is going to be running a very informal, family book swap during the Big Free Festival Day, part of I Love West Leeds Festival.

The festival takes place in Bramley Falls Park, 1-5 pm on the 3 July. I'm going to be about all afternoon, with a suitcase brimming with books for all the family (might even squeeze in a couple of story tellings if I can find my story telling hat!) but once again I need your help!

In the past the Suitcase has catered more for adult-only events, so my collection of books for children and young adults is to be honest poor.

If anyone has any children's books left after the call out last month for the Book That Appeal for the Birmingham school (which I'm pleased to say had a fantastic response and the children love their books!) please let me know.

I know this is the time of year when many people move house, if you are having a clear out I'm more than happy to collect from you. Or you can leave the books in Arcadia at any time.

For more info on the festival go to http://www.ilovewestleeds.co.uk/

Swimming on Tiomen Island - Beautiful Malaysia

2011-06-17T02:37:00.000-07:00

We stopped in at Tioman Island for a few nights to swim and enjoy the beautiful isolation. I highly recommend Tioman Island. An old engine was rusting on the shore from a motor boat that had carried over refugees from Indonesia, and then once they got there, the boat was burned. No going back for them. I don't blame them. Malaysia is fantastic.

Here's Aimee swimming with some people she met.

Book That!

2011-06-01T10:53:00.000-07:00

So today I threw all my toys out of my pram a bit over this article http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2011/jun/01/three-in-10-uk-children-own-no-books?CMP=twt_gu from a report from The National Literacy Trust that 3/10 children do not have their own books.

Now I know that there are millions of children that go without a bed every night and I am in no way saying this is more important. But this is something that quite frankly makes me rage.

Because without fail every single time I set up the Travelling Suitcase Library, someone always says "oh I have sooooo many books I mean to donate".

Really? Well three in ten children DON'T and I'm sorry but that is bollocks.

So in the midst of my Massive Row on twitter about this whole thing, in which I behaved like a petulant child which I'm very sorry for, I was contacted by a primary school teacher working in inner city Birmingham whose children love books, but do not have that much access to them.

I know there are various arguments that unless adults are reading, children won't. That's why I always carry a book everywhere I go, read in public at every opportunity and try and get as many people as possible to do the same, only by normalising reading does it become acceptable, only by saying "actually, this is what we do" do you stop the idea that by reading you are somehow missing out on "having a life".

And how is a child supposed to know if they're a reader or not if they don't have the opportunity to explore reading?

SO I've got this primary school's address and will be sending them the books that are age appropriate from the TSL and my shelves.

I think I've got about 30, which is pathetic and less that a class full. I can't afford to this month but next month I shall be hitting the charity shops in an attempt to get that number up. Do YOU have children's books just lying around waiting to be donated?

If you want to send some, email me bookelfleeds (at) gmail (dot) com and I'll email you the address.

Thanks, and Happy Reading!

Jess xx

Travelling With Children

2011-06-01T05:05:00.000-07:00

My daughter Aimee and I took an 8-hour ride with Pauli's boyfriend Robert from Ipoh to Singapore. Along for the ride until Kuala Lumpur was his beautiful Indian manager Davie. Robert took us everywhere in Singapore, and we wound up staying at Clemenceau Rd in an apartment building which (on the third floor at least) was converted to a YMCA type setup. It was probably the cheapest room available in downtown Singapore for $10/night. The only problem was that there were four bunks to a room and you had to share, whether man, woman or beast. And pretty soon there would be too many beasts.

I gathered that Robert had tons of dough to throw around because he paid for everything. He was just a generous guy. We went to the Crocodile Farm,

the Bird Sanctuary, and the Singapore Zoo

While we were in our room on Clemenceau an American fellow from California showed up, Cameron. He was going to share our room. We were already sharing our room with Bill, a great guy from England that Aimee quickly adored.

It was strange sharing a room with men but that's just the way it went, there was a scarcity of space. Cameron was quite the character and evidently a liberal architect because he didn't realize that he had a stoogie in his bag at the airport. I couldn't believe it, with the drug laws being so harsh and all you'd have thought he'd have checked his bags before leaving home. But no. He was ecstatic about his find. 'What a piece of luck' and smoked it out the window. He was the most relaxed person, I guess he's never been to jail or been caned twenty times.

It was getting close to midnight on New Year's so Cameron and Aimee and I decided to go downtown together and check out the sights. The streets were jammed with people, but what was even more interesting is that just after twelve the crowds started to disperse immediately and within half an hour the streets were practically deserted and the powerful street sweepers were out in full force. I've never seen a crowd disappear so quickly.

Singapore is strange. When I was there couldn't chew gum; if you didn't flush a toilet in the public toilets you could be fined $200; spitting was totally verboten. Some of the laws were pretty harsh for minor infractions. Singapore was remarkably box-like too. Because it's a small city-state everybody is thrust together in highrises, there's just no room for sprawl of any kind. However, the park in the center of the city was beautiful.

Being Chinese, they also don't waste any parts when it comes to meat. I was amazed at how resourceful the Singaporeans were with their food menus.

That night back at the 'hotel' I had to kick Cameron out of the room because his snoring could keep a person with narcolepsy awake. The guy was a freight train coming through the walls. Even after we kicked him out of the room and shut the door the walls were still vibrating. We wound up flying to Jakarta with Cameron, and that's a whole other story. I'm sure that he's still single.

Cameron Highlands Tea Plantations

2011-05-31T01:52:00.000-07:00

The bus lugged its way up the road beside the lush green mountainside to Tanah Rata, the biggest township in the Cameron Highlands, and it was scary because the road was so incredibly narrow I thought the bus would just teeter over into the valley below. The town itself was small, with only two rows of shops and a main street. But, like everything else, it is probably different now. The inn where we stayed for a week just outside the town was homey, but at night we had to watch that we didn't step on a cobra on the driveway, as we were told they crawled out at night from the surrounding jungle to cool off. A few nights later I saw a few of them.

There were a few Canadians there from Ottawa - Sally and Jennifer, and Paul from Denmark was loads of fun.

One night Aimee came into our room and said 'Mom, you have to come and meet these people.' So I got up and went into another cabin and there they were, all dressed up in their cigarette selling outfits - the Marlboro Gang. We became great friends and I backtracked to Ipoh in order to spend some time with them. They traveled all over Malaysia promoting the smokes, but.........they were super. Jamie, Allen, and Pauli.

Aimee and I went out for dinner one night with them all, plus Pauli's boyfriend Robert, and then after we went to the Rainbow Center where we saw all sorts of insects and butterflies.

The food at the nightmarkets in Malaysia is awesome. The population of Malaysia is Hindu, Malay and Chinese, so you can find quite a mix of delicacies. This is some of the food at the nightmarket in Tanah Rata.

One day I got invited to visit a tea planation with John, an old Canadian geezer staying at the inn, although he was really only about 52 or so. I think he was drunk because he almost got us killed weaving and then stopping while driving his small scooter on the road. I finally said 'whoa, lemme off this thing, cowboy.' We were close enough to walk to the plantation and we had a tour through the place. Adjacent to the factory loads of people were picking leaves in the rows upon rows of tea plants. I felt sorry for them out there, what a tedious job in the hot sun. By the time the tour was over, John had had a few cups of coffee so we were ready to drive back. John, wherever you are now - 'there's 99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer......' CHEERS!

As it was getting close to Christmas and we were having so much fun, we decided to stay and celebrate the holidays with all the fabulous people we had met that included - Wilhaus from Holland, Sally and Jennifer, and then Paul from Denmark and another Dutch girl who was hitchhiking all over the country. She was inspirational, and I decided to hitch back up to Ipoh to see the Marboro Gang rather than take the bus. There were just too many bus crashes and the driving was insane.

The temperature was dropping and at night it was quite chilly. Aimee and I went shopping for little things for the others, and I went shopping for her. I bought her a little teddy because she'd had to leave her 'serious' teddy at home because I told her she might lose it, and that would have been the end of the world for both of us. Aimee was so excited about Santa and finally on Christmas Eve he appeared.

It was obvious to Aimee that it wasn't really Santa, just a brown substitute, and when she pulled his beard down away from his face, she laughed when she saw it was the son of the owner of the inn. We had great fun that night, the whiskey and the wine and the beer flowed, the food was fantastic and the celebrants all had a good time until the early hours of the morning. I went off to put Aimee to bed and fell asleep, and as a result I missed saying goodbye to Wilhelm. Goodbye Wilhem, wherever you are now!

The Mantis Goddess

2011-05-23T13:13:00.000-07:00

On a mild Autumn Saturday afternoon, she made a jagged flight into our garden, and headed straight for my boots. I moved my feet, and she climbed up the smooth leg of my chair with some difficulty but an impressive determination...

We moved her to the safety of the flower-bed, but she was on an intriguing mission, and she wasn't that interested in safety. It is possible that Autumn is breeding time for the Mantis in our part of the world.

She is a queen, and a fine poseur...

She was not shy. She leapt onto the lens of my camera, a few times!...

Eventually, she made her way across the lawn to an ancient cypress tree, and climbed up it until we lost sight of her. A beautiful creature with a powerful energy.

In southern Africa, the indigenous Khoi and San people regarded the Mantis as a god...

The Travelling Suitcase Library Manifesto

2011-05-20T07:27:00.000-07:00

Over the last six months I have had a lot of requests from people wanting to know the best way to start their own book swaps or if they too can have a Travelling Suitcase Library. To that I say- Go For It! I didn't start this for profit or personal gain, and anything that gets more people reading, and talking about what they're reading in a open and social way is a Good Thing.

However, I am very concerned that people might think that they can say they run a Travelling Suitcase Library, and make money from the scheme, or benefit in some other way that does not fit in with the ethos of the original project.

With this in mind, I have come up with the following 'manifesto' (I'm thinking more avant-guarde than political party here) which I would ask that anyone wishing to start a Travelling Suitcase Library reads, and signs, before attaching the name to their project.

Any questions, or anything you think I've got hideously wrong, as usual, just let me know.

Jess

Manifesto
1.The Travelling Suitcase Library must provide as wide a range of books that can fit into a suitcase. There must be no discrimination shown between genre, literary style or format. For ease, the word ‘book’ used in this manifesto refers to any printed text made available through the Travelling Suitcase Library.

2.The Travelling Suitcase Library must not actively promote any racist, sexist, transphobic or cissexist, homophobic, ablest, classist or fatist attitudes in the material it provides, however freedom of speech should never be compromised. Any books that display such attitudes that end up in the suitcase must be swapped with discretion and trigger warnings given if this is appropriate.

3.The Travelling Suitcase Library must be free. There must never be any membership, signing fee, fines, or any other financial reward for providing the service.

4.The Travelling Suitcase Library must go to as wide a range of events and locations as possible. The Travelling Suitcase Library may accept complimentary entrance to an event, but must in return promote that event in some way. The Travelling Suitcase Library must make it clear in promotional material that the event charges an entrance fee.

5.The Travelling Suitcase Library must use second hand books. All books must come from donations, second hand shops, charity shops, library sales, or other events.

6.Any books donated to the Travelling Suitcase Library from publishing houses should be included, but in no way promoted. No one book should be promoted above another, as the focus should be on finding the right book for the individual.

7.The Travelling Suitcase Library must promote reading for pleasure at all times.

8.The Travelling Suitcase Library must never impeach upon any public or educational library. Any one looking for a particular book must be encouraged to go to their public library first. The Travelling Suitcase Library must fight against any public library closures.

9.The Travelling Suitcase Library must be an environmentally friendly as possible. If a bus is available, a bus must be used over a car, for example.

10.The Travelling Suitcase Library does not necessarily have to be in a suitcase, though it probably makes more sense if it is!

LS6 Beer Fest

2011-05-16T04:42:00.000-07:00

I'm very very happy to announce that the lovely and gorgeous people at LS6 Beer Festival, running Friday 3 - Saturday 4 June in Left Bank Leeds (the big Church thing on Cardigan Road) have allowed me to run a book swap!

The Travelling Suitcase Library with of course be there, bigger than ever with the recent influx of donations (thanks as ever to @thoughtlessjoe, @saratheresaphoto, @gazpachodragon and everyone else who brought books to Book Club this Sunday). Seeing as I will be far to busy pulling pints and dancing like a loon to be on the book table all the time, it will be an incredibly informal book swap, but as ever do ask for any recomendations and BRING YOUR TOMES!!!

More info about the fest, including where to buy tickets, can be found here...

http://ls6beerfest.com/

Death To All Drug Traffickers - Penang, Cameron Highlands

2011-05-12T05:13:00.000-07:00

After the Phi Phi Islands we stayed in Krabi before hopping on an air-conditioned mini-bus for Penang, Malaysia. We were done with Thailand. Aimee managed to make a few more friends while we were in Krabi.

I was struck by the first sign that greets you at the Malaysian border - DEATH for all drug traffickers under Malaysian law. It was quite effective I'd say. I wondered how many people didn't take it seriously.

The first night in Penang we stayed at the Rio Hotel but moved to the New China Hotel. Big mistake. It was huge and our room was massively grand, but in the middle of the night I woke up all itchy and realized that we had bed bugs. I don't know if you've ever experienced bed bugs but it was the first time for me, although I couldn't prove it was bed bugs because every time I turned on the light I couldn't see the little bastards. Nevertheless, I got the concierge out of bed and asked for another room. He was none too pleased at being awoken at three in the morning but neither was I. The next day we moved.

We went into a travel agency and a fellow there asked to go with Aimee and I up to Penang Hill.

We didn't last long in Penang, before leaving for the cool mountains of the Cameron Highlands. On the train ride, Aimee was adopted by this woman. The food was good too.

Travelling Suitcase Library On Tour Summer '11

2011-05-09T06:53:00.000-07:00

Lots of exciting things planned for May/June/July

I will be dragging the suitcase around with me. As per usual, anyone wanting me to bring the suitcase to their event, please get in touch. Ta xx

15 May Arcadia Bar Book Swap in conjunction with the Leeds Book Club, from about 5 ish.

20 May Chorlton Arts Festival Books and Blues evening in conjunction with For Books Sake, free entry see http://chorltonartsfestival.com/ for details.

7 June Bettakultcha. Leeds University Union Stylus, 7.30. For tickets, which are £5 please go to http://bettakultcha9leeds.eventbrite.com/

15 July The Mad Hatter's Tea Party, Nexus Art's Cafe Manchester, tickets are £5. See http://forbookssake.net/2011/04/08/for-books-sake-presents-the-mad-hatters-tea-party/ for details.

Thank you!

How To Wrestle A Madwoman - Phi Phi Islands

2011-05-05T02:39:00.000-07:00

Traveling alone with my daughter Aimee was never dull. Little did she know that on our first night in Phi Phi, a yellow and black snake almost five feet long had slithered over her belly as she lay sleeping on her mattress. I had just tucked in beside her and had closed my eyes when I sensed something and sat up. It was dim in the room. My first thought was of the big hairy spider that had leaped out from behind a mirror that afternoon, plopped to the floor and then tore off into Elaine and Gina's room, two British girls we had met in Krabi the day before.

I didn't move as I watched the snake creep across us, eyeballing it as it crawled over my thighs and then over the edge of the bed and off. I gathered up a sheet and bunched it up and threw it over the snake and pushed it out the door. Then I tucked our mosquito netting in properly, let out a big sigh of relief, and went back to sleep. It was a nasty snake, but not as nasty as the snake from the Garden of Eden I was about to meet up with.

The next day Aimee and I moved, enough of the snakes and hairy things. I knocked on the door of a beach house that had a sign planted in the sand out front with an arrow saying 'Thai Massage' and 'Rooms.' A stark-naked blond woman of about sixty with breasts shaped like papayas answered the door. She hauled her breasts out of the way and said 'come in, come in, I'm just a guest here,' as if it were totally normal to nauseate strangers who are seeking a room. 'Don't mind me,' she said. As I stood there garping at her loose flesh, an old fat Thai woman came into the room wiping her hands on a tea towel, who said yes, I could stay there, but I would have to stay in the front room on a double bed because all her rooms were full. Fine by me. 'This is a Christian home,' she informed me. 'I could tell by my reception,' I said. My bed was in a large room surrounded by windows and filled with blankets, pillows, towels, and massage equipment. I still couldn't get my eyes over the Swedish cake marching all over the house naked with just her teeny pair of knickers to cover her nest, her thin skin rippling like a breeze over water. I knew she was completely nuts. How the hell did she get there? And why was she allowed to walk around like that?

I was starting to like the islands. That night Aimee and I went out with Elaine and Gina to a fabulous seafood restaurant, and while we were there I saw the most beautiful Thai woman I had ever seen, a hostess in our restaurant, but as I was marveling on her beauty she started to pick her nose, and with such gusto that I just about heaved into my cold plate of snappers.

Elaine and Gina were drinking Mekong Whiskey and encouraged me to buy a pint even though I'd heard it was the worst rotgut in the world, its main ingredient being formaldehyde. They disagreed, and said they had been drinking it since they had arrived in Thailand with no nasty side effects thus far, so I got some. After finishing dinner and our whiskey we went to the beach and stayed there half the night with some other people we met who had music and tapes and were loads of fun. We swam and talked, and when Aimee was tired, I tucked her into a sleeping bag beside me. A full moon lit up the bay and it was gorgeous beyond belief. We all had a gay old time.

When I finally made it back to the house at 3am with Aimee, the old woman was up and at it and all fired up and shook her fist and gave me grief for having my child out at that time. She went on about herself being a Christian and why wasn't I being a responsible Christian parent, blah, blah, blah and all this crazy shit. I ignored her and went to bed. It was too late to get into it. The first time I'm out past 10pm with my kid and I get flak from this old bag of wind.

The next day I woke up with the worst hangover in my entire life; I felt like my head had been shot off and reattached with pliers. The old Thai woman's son gave me a head massage and I lay down and slept it off. Later on that night, I met up with Gina and Elaine again, but I had a quiet night because my head was still in recovery. I had left Aimee at the house because she wanted to stay there and watch television and everything seemed to be fine, but when I came back at about 9pm the Swedish cake told me that Aimee had been crying for me and that it had totally irritated the old Thai woman. I shrugged and packed up all my gear and tied up my knapsack and then went to bed, but I never got undressed because intuitively I just knew shit was coming down the pike in the morning. What I didn't realize, was just how much shit.

She didn't waste any part of the morning. At 7am, the old Thai woman strode into the living room where I was sleeping with Aimee and started thrashing around the place saying that I had to find another room as Aimee was crying the night before, and I wasn't there, and what kind of Christian was I, and finally, that I didn't deserve to have a child. Whoa. Back off Satan.

I leaped out of bed ready to go and told Aimee to get dressed, we were leaving. The old woman snarled that she wanted her money for the two nights that I had stayed and I snarled back that I was owed the money for having had to put up with her bitchy fat ass for two days. But as I was tying up the laces on my shoes and Aimee was putting on her dress, she came at me with a massage roller that she had picked up, a long, rounded piece of assault weapon that she held over her head as she ran at me like a cracked-out banshee. I grabbed her two wrists as she was about to strike and we wrestled and danced left to right, right to left, and I was struck by how strong the old cow was for her age and how I didn't think I could hold her off for much longer. Aimee started to cry and scream and hung on to the old woman's arm that carried her up off her feet, crying 'don't hurt my Mommy, don't hurt my Mommy.' I was yelling, telling her to back off or I'd kill her, when her son ran into the room and grabbed his mother's arms and twisted them behind her back. He pried the massage mallet out of her hand and tossed it in a corner and hauled the old woman backwards, shouting at her in Thai. He looked at me, 'get out now, just go. Sorry, my mother...'

I was missing one shoe, I had sprained my finger, my hand was cut, and I had a traumatized daughter by the time we finally slammed out the front door, the old woman still yelling from the back of the house, arguing with her son. An audience stood collectively outside their huts watching us limp away, but I was positive they'd seen it all before and I waved to them. The woman was totally mad. She was a Christian.

Life goes on

2011-04-21T09:25:00.000-07:00

Perhaps Life's greatest quality
is its relentlessness

Life doesn't need me and it doesn't need you

A plant or an ant, will do

I like this toughness
I don't actually care that I am superfluous

I always hope that Life wins

I also always hope though,

that as a species, we might make the choices
that support winning side
because
Life is beautiful

Put The Fire Out!

2011-04-21T02:32:00.000-07:00

There's nothing worse than losing your child in a block fire.

After our idyllic rest in Petchburi, we were off again. Another 2-1/2 hours south of Petchburi is Hua Hin, and it was a fabulous place. I drank in the warm sea breeze as we made our way into town on a tuk-tuk.

Some people thought I was pretty slack with my daughter's safety, I could read their expressions when I'd be drinking coffee downstairs and she'd come running up to me all out of breath with her friends to tell me she was off again to do something else. Half a dozen times I was asked "you just let her go off like that?" Yes, I do, but if I didn't get a good feeling about the child she'd met (which never happened) it would be no.

In Hua Hin, the kids had to bring her back, and she wasn't allowed on the beach or the main streets, and those were the only rules. But seriously, do these kids look threatening?

Takiak Hill overlooking Hua Hin

One day Aimee was brought to the local school by her friends, maybe she was show and tell. I didn't know where the school was. It was a beautiful morning and I was having my usual coffee and breakfast and reading the newspaper at the Headrock Cafe when suddenly I heard a great commotion and shouting coming from up the street. People were running towards me clutching their belongings and dragging suitcases and wooden waggons and anything else they could carry. They were yelling things in Thai that I couldn't understand and I looked around for somebody who was going to tell me what was going on. I couldn't comprehend it all. Then I saw the smoke, big clouds of smoke quickly rising above the flimsy wooden guesthouses that lined the street. Hidden behind the guesthouses were all the small huts, rooms, and lean-tos that house all the local Thais. As I watched everybody race by me, I wondered where the hell the local school was.

Sirens and horns blared from the two fire trucks that were now snarled up in the narrow streets, desperately trying to navigate through the frantic people and their household gear that was strewn everywhere. Couches, chairs, dishes, bedboards, mirrors, mattresses, clothing, tools, everything that could have been dragged from their houses was now in the street and stacked in large heaps. The fire was growing and people in their panic started throwing water at it with pots and frying pans and buckets, which made about as much sense as bailing out a sinking ship with a cup.

All of a sudden there was a roar from the flames and it looked like a a raging inferno. The flames were licking their burning lips up the dry tinder posts near to our guesthouse. Oh my God. Where's Aimee?

I raced up the stairs two at a time to get my money and passport, then raced back down and into the crowd to find Aimee. I didn't know if she was still at the school or what. Where the hell is the school? I ran around the streets calling her name, panicking, then circled back towards our guesthouse hoping she'd come back there. It seemed like hours that I was racing around trying to find her when all of a sudden I heard Mommy! Mommy! and she ran up behind me with her three little friends and grabbed on to me for dear life, babbling her story of being evacuated from the school and everybody running home, and the fire and wasn't it scary? I grabbed her hand and we went down to the end of the block to the main street and waited with all the others until it was safe to go back in again.

It didn't take that long. The firemen were able to put it out in spite of being so hampered. The charred wood hissed and bubbled and the streets were full of water and smoke and tangled fire hoses when we were finally allowed back there to take some more pictures.

Kudos to the firemen - a catastrophe once more was thwarted.

The Big Fat Heathen Book Swap

2011-04-18T04:19:00.000-07:00

Arcadia Ale and Wine Bar
Arndale Centre
Headingley

From About 5 ish

At this time of year we like to sit back, relax, and think deeply about the big questions. Life, the Universe and Everything might be an amusing book by Douglas Adams, but these questions such as who are we and what our point is have been puzzling philosophers, and theologians for Many Moons.

At the Travelling Suitcase Library, we see ourselves as encouraging debate, and being a Massive Heathen myself this month's book swap, advantageously falling on the Heathen festival of Eostre we would like to invite you all, Heathen and non-Heathen alike, to join in the celebration of the written word and Great Thoughts.

The Suitcase, as ever, shall be filled with Various Toles designed to challenge and expand your world view and we would encourage others to come with expansion in mind. Anyone wanting to sit around a Talk About Things is more than welcome.

Arcadia we be serving excellent ales and lovely pies throughout, as ever.

The Biggest Buddha. Ever. - Petchburi City

2011-04-18T01:45:00.000-07:00

From the train station at Petchburi we got on a local bus filled with half a dozen elderly Thais dozing with their jackets on in the stifling heat. We were going to the Chom Klow Hotel, one of the few hotels in town. We asked two old-timers if they were familiar with the Chom Klow Hotel and they looked at each other and then back at us with blank stares. We asked a few others and they gave us the same blank stare so I wondered what was wrong with these people that they didn't even know the location of one of the only hotels in town. Petchburi City is not very big. Suddenly, an old man leaning over his cane at the front of the bus spat out Chom Klow and they all started laughing. Yes, yes, that's it, they said, all suddenly coming to life and nodding their heads. Hey, that's what I've been saying dude! Didn't I? But I'd obviously been using the wrong inflection. Aimee and I laughed and we all felt the good vibes and they cheerfully pointed out the hotel as the bus drove by it.

The Chom Klow Hotel was a scarred and faded five-storey block of cement located beside a muddy river that meandererd through the city. A bridge heavy with traffic and noise crossed nearby. Our room in the back overlooked the water, and after wondering how many mosquitoes would be paying us a visit that night to suck our tired blood, I dumped my bags down and collapsed on the lumpy bed. The fan croaked and groaned as it listlessly turned, doing nothing to dispel the steamy heat.

The first thing my daughter wanted to do was to go to a store and get some chips. I gave her a little money and she was off. Five minutes later I panicked and shot up off my bed and ran out of the hotel and up the street, searching everywhere. How could I let her go off like that? Where is she? What was I thinking? I couldn't believe that we hadn't gone through our hotel name, address, and getting a taxi routine.

I was totally starting to panic scanning the streets and sidewalks and shops when I heard a faint voice through the traffic. "Mom! Mommy! Over here!" I swung around and a redhead in an orange Thai dress stood there waving to me from across the street. Oh my god! I ran over to her, relieved.

We strolled around the town that night. Very near our hotel was a busy night market, filled with a smorgasbord of spicy Thai food. We gorged on all kinds of wonderful things while people turned and stared at us, sometimes reaching out to stroke my daughter's red hair.

An older gentleman around 50 years old approached us, and in perfect English he told me he was a retired school teacher and that he had lived in Petchburi his entire life. He would be glad to show us many interesting sites if I so desired. We chatted for a while and we strolled around the market before agreeing to meet the next morning at 8:30.

When Aimee and I went downstairs the next morning, Chumpion was waiting outside in his black 1950 Austin. It was an incredible old car to go touring around in and we had a great time bouncing over all the pot-holed roads to the caves and temples on the outskirts of town. We went to one of the four largest reclining buddhas in Thailand and when I say large, I mean massive. This great photo of a reclining Buddha gives you more of an idea of the vast size of these sculptures.

Here's a reclining buddha, although not the same size.

After visiting another cave and viewing some ancient artefacts, Chumpion took us to a floating library which was over 500 years old. It was just a simple wooden structure standing on stilts in a small pond. Then he took us to his home where we drank tea and ate pie and home-made biscuits. He told stories about Petchburi, Thailand's King, and his own life. He never married and his mother had recently died. I was so thankful for his generosity in taking us around to the caves and temples and then finally to his house, because we never would have seen what we did without him.

Remember what you have seen, because everything forgotten returns to the circling winds. Navejo Wind Chant

Kudos and good health to you Chumpion, wherever you are!

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When we were over our food poisoning from Koh Samet island, my 8-year-old daughter and I got on a local train in Bangkok that was headed south, but after a few hours on the train it was time to get off because Petchburi City looked okay from the window. I discovered later that most travellers don't stay in Petchburi, they either make it a day trip or just bypass it altogether. These are the kinds of places I love to discover.

Koh Samet, Thailand

2011-04-16T10:29:00.000-07:00

Women travelling solo, or women travelling with children, whatever you choose to do, will have a great time on the island of Samet. It's small, the beach is fantastic, and it's not too far from Bangkok. It's laid-back, at least it was when I was there with my daughter.

Before our arrival, a fellow had been carted off with malaria, and there are bag loads of mosquitoes at night, so bring repellent. There is very little threat of malaria in Thailand; however, it pays to be cautious. I decided that we wouldn't take malaria pills because I would be travelling for nine months, and one of the instructions for taking them is to stay out of the sun. Duh. Sun. Thailand. I figured I'd probably be sicker taking them than not. I slathered my daughter in mosquito repellent at night and kept her covered up, and we minimized our time outside. Other than that, we were fine.

On the bus to Koh Samet we took in some of the devastation from the typhoon. It was extensive, as you can see. All the trees were knocked down or heavily damaged.

I was really in the mood for swimming after being in Bangkok because it's just SO HOT in the city. This was November, the perfect time to visit because there were so few tourists. Here are some of the friends that my daughter Aimee made while she was there. Students from Korea. I wound up doing everybody's hair.

Swimming - it was a wonderful beach.

The bathing beauties on the beach

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Monkeys were everywhere and although they're sexy, stay away from them! These guys ran off with everything.

Aimee making more friends.

Breakfast on Koh Samet

While we were on Koh Samet we celebrated Wan Loi Krathong, a festival where everybody sets out home- made floats on to the water to celebrate and worship the water gods. It was quite something to see all the lights from the little floats flickering on the water. Later there were fireworks. Friends Taj and Rita from Oregon were with us watching the fireworks haphazardly set off, missiles that streaked off in any old direction. I thought they would eventually land on the thatched roofs on the huts that lined the beach when sure enough, we followed one through the air right to the roof of a thatched hut. It caught fire and flames started to shoot up. Taj ran like a cheetah over to the hut, climbed up the side and heroically put it out. He was the star that night. It was fun. We all sang songs on the beach and had a huge fire.

We also went snorkelling with Taj and Camille, a woman we met from Sweden.

When it was time to bid adios to the Korean students at six in the morning, Aimee ran out in her nightgown to kiss them all good-bye. Sometimes she used to cry after people left, and I had to tell her that that was what happened when you travelled - you meet people, you have fun with them, and then you have to say good-bye, because everybody has to go home at some point and we all live in different places. It didn't make it any easier for her, she got so attached to some people.

Blue and Bluer in Bangkok - Travelling with Children

2011-04-15T09:43:00.000-07:00

It's never easy traveling with children, it's a big responsibility because you want them to stay safe and stay healthy. It was well worth traveling with my 8-year-old daughter though because she had so many great experiences, and I met so many people on account of her. She was shy when we left and I returned home nine months later with an outgoing little kid. The trip changed her personality as she received so much attention.

It was a l-o-o-o-ng flight over - Vancouver to L.A.; L.A. to Seoul; Seoul to Bangkok - we were exhausted and jet-lagged when we arrived. Our first night there we shared a cab with two other young women and we took the first hotel he brought us to. Everything in the place was blue - blue rugs, blue curtains, blue sheets, blue bedspreads, blue towels - and when my daughter woke up in the middle of the night whimpering 'I want to go home, Mommy,' I felt blue, too. Suddenly I had second thoughts about taking her out of school for the year and packing up and just leaving. How would it all turn out? I don't know about traveling for months with babies, but 8-year-olds are a lot of fun.

Unfortunately, and I didn't know it at the time because I never do any preparation for trips, Thailand had just experienced a devastating typhoon, and travel south would be suspended for at least a week. So we visited the sites in Bangkok, visited some relatives, and then went to Koh Samet island, which turned out to be brilliant. Thailand was a cultural shock away from our little town in Canada.

First stop was the magnificent Grand Palace, which I don't have too many shots of unfortunately. Ah, the days before digital cameras! This linked website also has a long list of other cool things to see in Bangkok.

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Your Suitcase Needs You!

2011-03-14T03:28:00.000-07:00

Help!

World Book Night has completely cleared me out of books!

World Book Night was fantastic event (read mine and N's write-ups of it on the LeedsBookClub blog) and really successful, in that we shared a lot of books with a lot of people, but the Suitcase is looking pretty diminished as a result!

A lot of people often say that they have loads of books just lying around, and that they wish they'd known about The TSL to donate!

Well NOW IS YOUR CHANCE!!!!!

I will take any books that you think people should read. Any genre, any period, fiction, non fiction, graphic novels, whatever.

I will also COME TO YOU. If you are somewhere I can get to on a bus, I shall bring the sad, empty suitcase and fill it. You can be safe knowing that your books are going to people who will read for pleasure, or even those who've never read for pleasure before. Who knows, your books could change someones life.

Obviously I'd much rather you donate your books to charity shops, and if I weren't so skint I'd just go round Headingley and fill up the suitcase from purchases, but I am, and have two book swaps booked this month, so I have to go hunting for donations. I promise that once I have a bit more money I will make a donation to charity so that no one misses out by your donating the books to the TSL.

If you have any books at all you can donate, please leave a comment or get in touch on twitter @bookelfleeds or email me bookelfleeds at gmail dot com. Thank you so so so so much!!!

xxx

A Crippled Dog in Taiwan

2011-03-11T19:48:00.000-08:00

Aren't these the cutest? These are little piglets that I saw when I was on my way to Kaoshiung with my daughter. Not that I'm going to talk about pigs......

I'm going to talk about the dogs. In some countries, like Vietnam, they still eat dogs. Or China. I saw some dogs being carved up and others splayed out as if on a gynecological bed when I was in Vietnam, and it wasn't attractive.

In Taiwan, I don't believe they're still eating doggy snacks before bedtime, but it was whispered in some quarters that you might want to check out the meat before dining out. Whether they're still chowing down or not, the treatment of animals in Taiwan really was appalling. I saw so many dogs left all day in tiny cages, or cages that were filthy. One of my neighbors tied up their dog to a clothes pole in the burning heat and went away for a few days and the dog died. When I went to the police station about it, they shrugged. It was only a dog, and they wouldn't leave the station for a dog.

Here's something else I saw when I went to sing karaoke at a woman's house in the suburbs of Tainan City.

I drove over to a spectacular home in Tainan City with a woman whose son was one of my students. We were going to sing karaoke and drink tea at her friend's home. After parking in front of an enormous house, a tiny woman with a waist the circumference of a ballpoint pen and a lacquered bouffant straight out of The Bride of Frankenstein opened a garage door and came out to greet us. Walking behind her, I was struck by the size of her garage, and, an oddity for Taiwan, how empty of useless crap it was. A retractable-gear Beech Sierra Musketeer with a thirty-two foot wingspan and brushed aluminum air vents could have fit in that enormous space.

However, as we continued through the garage, I noticed a medium-sized, black dog lying in a steel cage in a corner. He was all alone in a cage that would have been more appropriate for restraining a manic grizzly bear on crystal meth than this defenseless lump of fur. I wanted to pet him but he never stirred, nor wagged his tail. Only his sad, brown eyes followed me, peering out behind his bushy eyebrows.

His cage had steel bars at least three inches round, and the bottom had a poopee drop-down zone where his business fell through the bars and was whisked away through a drainage pipe linked to the sewer. There was nothing in the cage. The dog lethargically stood up when he realized I wasn't leaving right away, but I could see that any hope of ever being released from his prison had been extinguished long ago.

It was her son's dog, her son who was now in America. I stooped to pet him through the bars, and asked if we could bring him in the house with us, but the two women laughed and waved away the absurdity of my request and ushered me into the house.

I didn't say anything, nor did I protest, because the Taiwanese mind is as thick as Swartzenegger's dick at a New York City summer swimsuit show when it comes to the doggy issue. But while I was picking out tunes to sing, and as my ears shrank listening to my friend screech over the ear-shattering decibels of the speakers, my mind kept wandering back to that poor lump of fur left alone all day in his cage.

After two hours of torture listening to excruciatingly bad Chinese pop music sung badly, I wanted to go, but the bouffant wanted to give us a tour of her house before we left.

It was impressive. Each room was artfully designed and furnished with expensive rugs, lamps and antiques, and enough exotic booze bottles filled ceiling-to-floor cabinets in the living room that she could have opened a liquor store in three districts. The kitchen was filled with brand new appliances which had never been used, while her bedroom was fitted with a clothes closet bigger than a concentration camp changing room, and with just as many shoes, hats, dresses and empty suitcases. After we stepped off the elevator and back into the garage, she begged us to stay longer, upon which my friend whispered in English to me that she was lonely wandering around this large house by herself, and craved company during the day as her husband was frequently out of town and her kids were in America.

We declined and set off, but as she stood waving goodbye, so tiny within her vast, empty space, I felt regret at not having persuaded her to release that poor lump of fur in her garage that was dying for want of contact, and let him keep her company.

Koashiung

2011-03-07T22:56:00.000-08:00

Koashiung is the big southern city in Taiwan. It's only half an hour's drive from Tainan but it's huge, the industrial port. It has the most beautiful airport I've ever seen anywhere, almost luxurious. It has fabulous temples and tons of things to do, but as for living, I'd pick Tainan over Kaoshiung.

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SOUNDBITES

News is sensationalistic in Taiwan. Reporters get in everybody's face, even storming into hospitals for close-ups of people dying in their beds, ignoring a victim's pain and suffering for a good closeup of the death throes, and the longer the better. It's unbelievable for a westerner to see how even more intrusive the media is over here. One time, a famous Taiwanese actor's son was having a mental breakdown and they filmed the actor moaning and weeping and nodding over his lethargic, spaced-out son lying in his hospital bed. It was surreal. Dude! Go home!

Another tragic news item in Taiwan which created a lot of scandal was about a drunken father who dashed the head of his 4-year-old daughter into a wall outside a 7/11 when he was drunk. It was one o'clock in the morning. (Men usually get custody of their children here.) She wanted to go home and he got angry and threw her into the wall, resulting in serious injury to the child. A stranger called 9/11.

The police arrested the father at the scene and the little girl was brought by ambulance to the hospital. However, a neurosurgeon at one hospital had just gone to sleep and refused to see her, and no other hospital in Taipei would admit her, evidently because the father was poor and had no medical insurance. She was then taken by ambulance to Taichung, another city six hours away, but by then the delay was fatal and the little girl fell into an irreversible coma.

The country was outraged by the actions of the hospitals, politicians and their reputations were at stake, two doctors in a Taipei hospital lied about having treated her and reports were faked, and now the little girl was on the brink of death. The father was sent to jail for an indeterminate amount of time, two doctors went to jail for five years, and the Mayor fired the Health Director for Taipei. She was taken off the respirator after she was declared brain dead and her kidneys and liver were donated by her mother.

The sad thing about this saga, besides the event itself, was that during the reporting and coverage of the story, the hospital staff couldn’t bring the little girl from one room of the hospital to another without facing an explosion of flashbulbs from the cameras and tripods set up all throughout the hospital. Reporters were shouting and screaming as they scrambled around the bed carrying the girl. It was a madhouse.

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A car accident occurred somewhere around Taichung, a big city north of Tainan. A young man of 19 was driving and hit another car. In the other car were a woman and a maid, who was holding a baby. The baby died because it was thrown against the dashboard and crushed. It was not in a restraint. It also turned out the woman driving had been drinking.

The father of the baby (who was evidently in the Taiwanese mafia) went to the hospital with a few of his thug friends and beat the stuffing out of the 19-year-old kid while he was lying in his hospital bed recovering from his injuries. His mother was there and she spurred them on, saying that he needed a good thrashing for what he’d done.

Unfortunately, the young man died of his injuries from the beating and the police went on a search for the killers. They all went missing. Everyone was outraged that he died in such a way in a hospital, and that his mother would actually encourage their acthons. In the end, the mother got blamed for the death of her son.

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Accidents are a murky affair, best to be avoided. And be careful walking down the street.

If a pedestrian is hit by a scooter and the scooter races off, no other individuals will touch the victim lying on the ground because the victim could raise his head, look at you, and say "that's the guy that hit me." You're screwed and everyone will blame you for the accident. It has happened.

Truck drivers on the highway sometimes run back over somebody they've hit in order to kill them. Better dead than in the hospital because dead people can't talk or demand money. People make private money deals here when involved in accidents. A man in one of my classes told me he had to pay $450,000 NT dollars to a family because his son-in-law had a scooter accident with an old man and the old man died two weeks later. The relatives of the dead man said he died as a result of the accident, but the old fart had high blood pressure to begin with. Nevertheless, my student would be paying and paying for a long time to come.

Lunatic Neighbors

2011-03-03T00:25:00.000-08:00

I miss Taiwan. I miss the friends I made, and I miss the tremendous electrical storms and monsoon downpours. I also miss driving around on a scooter and having the freedom to go anywhere at any time of night to buy anything. But the one thing I don't miss, are some of the neighbors that I had.

Parties, screaming, spousal abuse, loud music, child abuse, mental retardation - I experienced it all with my neighbors in Taiwan. I was teaching ESL at the time, and one of my students related to me the story of how he had lived beside a man who was constantly beating his wife and kids and how he had just closed his windows. He said it was horrible. I asked him why he didn't call the police and he said "Negative, I wouldn't call police. Somebody come to get me maybe." In Taiwan, it's all about retribution, the fear of somebody coming back to get you if you report anything.

Kitty corner to my apartment building was another apartment building, and on the ground floor there lived a lunatic that scratched and pecked at the ground at all hours of the night as he cursed and muttered to himself. He lived behind two garage doors lined with small windows that opened on to the lane. The area behind the doors was crammed up to the ceiling with bed frames, sewing machines, tools, mattresses with their guts pouring out, picture frames, sofas, a baseball bat, and his lounge chair, where he sat smoking cigarettes and making idle chit-chat with himself.

He was about 70 years old and he slept all day and rustled around all night, sorting and stacking and creeping between the stacks of junk like some kind of over-sized mouse, arranging and ordering his hidey-hole. He went beserk if anyone parked in front of his garage doors, even if only to let somebody out of their car, or wait for a friend, or stop to talk for a minute. Yelling and screaming and waving his fists like a lunatic, he'd run at whoever was parked there until they drove away in terror.

One night, just before midnight, a woman parked in front of his garage door and waited for her friend, who lived in my building. I heard him yelling and I knew there could be trouble, so I went out to my balcony. Raging at her with a baseball bat in his hands, the old fart took to the front of her car, smashing out the headlights and denting the hood as he lifted the bat over his head for the final run home while the terrified woman tried to drive away. Her friend suddenly appeared and she shrieked at the lunatic. They managed to drive off without running him over, and everyone who had been standing on their balconies scratching their heads, went back inside their apartment and closed the door.

A few weeks later, at two in the morning, I heard a terrible banging outside and I dragged myself out of bed again and went out on my balcony, arriving just in time to see the last few minutes of the violence that was being done to the mouse's garage doors. Four teenaged boys had taken a baseball bat to the front of the building and smashed the crap out of his storefront, kicking the door off its hinges and leaving it grasping with rusty fingertips at the frame. Shards of glass glittering on the pavement were all that were left of the windows. They were kicking with silent fury at the garage door but no one, not even the raving lunatic himself, arrived at the scene to protest. When they were done, they ran down the lane and disappeared.

I watched as my neighbor set about the next days hammering nails in doors and boarding up windows and taping cracked squares of glass. He was very busy.

A few weeks later, I was woken up by ringing downstairs and went out to my balcony, only to see an ambulance crew pull up and take out their stretcher and go inside the cramped space where the old man slept. They stayed in their for quite some time before they came out again with the old grizzard strapped to it. He was moaning and groaning, and his chest was covered in blood. I gasped. It looked like he was almost dead. He was lifted into the ambulance and driven off and the next day I asked my friend the security guard what happened. He laughed and shook his head and said the old bastard had gotten into another fight but this time he got stabbed. Nobody ever asked about him, nobody ever went to see him, and nobody ever saw him again. To our relief.

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I moved from this apartment complex to another which housed just as many crazies, as it turned out. Shortly after moving into my new place I was putting some pictures on the wall when all of a sudden I heard one blood-curdling shriek after another. It sounded like something was being skinned alive, or murdered. Then there was a humongous crash and breaking glass.

My knees trembled as I wondered what kind of raging gorilla was downstairs, and if he'd try to set fire to the place. Ever since hearing the story of a man who had burnt down an apartment building in Taiwan to spite his wife and killing fifteen people in the process, it'd been on my mind. I debated whether I should bolt the door and lock myself in, or try to make some escape and stay outside, but when things had quieted down some, my curiosity overcame my fear and I crept downstairs to find out what was going on.

When I got to the second floor I peeped into an apartment with an open door and looked around. It was empty except for the large prayer mantel that I'd heard being thrown down to the floor and was now in a million pieces. All Taiwanese have shrines in their living rooms to dead relatives and/or for prayers but this one wouldn't be seeing any more prayers for a long time. It was smashed to smithereens. A small girl of about 5 was crouched in the corner crying and quivering and a boy of about 12 (who I took for her brother) came out from a bedroom and looked at me.

I asked the boy what happened and he said 'my brother,' but that's all he could say. Suddenly the boy's mother arrived with her husband and the galoot that had caused all the damage. He was gigantic. He was also retarded, and although he was about 22, he had the mental capacity of a five-year-old. The mother and father took a look at all the damage and looked at me and said nothing. The pain of living with their son had obviously taken its toll, and now their one last precious possession was in ruins at their feet. It pained me to see their expression and I went back upstairs.

After that night I could hear him raging every once in a while, and when I left and moved away from Taiwan I gave them my furniture so they could at least have a couch and an armchair.

World Book Night

2011-02-22T07:42:00.000-08:00

Hooray! The Travelling Suitcase Library is giving away books!!!
(so any other day then yes?)

No!

World Book Night (http://www.worldbooknight.org/titles/) is a national incentive to get people reading for pleasure. We're giving away 40-odd (after donating a couple to work) copies of Stuart: A Life Backwards by Alexander Masters.

World Book Night is on the Saturday 5 March.

I'll be at Left Bank Leeds on Cardigan Lane (lovely old church now used for the community) doing a book swap from 6-8, then hot footing it to My Spiritual Home, Arcadia, to give out books from 8.30 pm. I'll be doing a book-swap as well so Bring Your Tomes!!!!

xxxx

A Hostel in Doha

2011-02-14T23:49:00.000-08:00

I was just in Doha, Qatar for a few days and I wanted to tell you about where I stayed in Doha. I only hope that this doesn't get the sweet little fella fired that showed me to my room.

I had read about the Doha Youth Hostel before flying over to Qatar, so after I walked out of the Doha Airport at 8:00pm I asked a taxi driver outside for a lift to the place. The drivers argued over the price although they weren't sure where it was. I figured I would probably get stiffed but I was so tired I didn't care. The line-up at immigration was so-o-o-o long and so-o-o-o-o unbelievably slow I just wanted to get there. My driver, a spiky-haired do from Eritrea, kept driving and driving and driving and driving until I thought I was headed back to the UAE. I whined about the distance from town until we finally came to a dingy street full of overflowing trash receptacles and stray cats. He pulled up beside one and mulled over where to go. It stank. I thought he was lost but he was sure he knew where the hostel was. He just had to think.

We drove around a few more blocks and there it was, the Doha Youth Hosteling Association. The spiky do waited while I walked in to see if there was a room because I'm never prepared for travel - a long-standing problem that I need to address. For a second I couldn't see because the spotlight that lit up the driveway was so bright that for a moment I thought I'd arrived at Auschwitz, the only thing missing being the doctors and the gnarly dogs to greet me. The place was empty, with just a few Indians lounging around smoking cigarettes.

I went back and paid the taxi driver fifteen dollars U.S. and dragged my bag into what looked like a vast recreation room. One half of the room was filled with tables and chairs, while the other was wall-to-wall seating a la Morocco. A Sri Lankan fellow about 40 years old took me upstairs to show me my room, and in between showing me the bathroom and how to work the television controls he complained ad nauseum about his miserable life, and especially his miserable boss whom I was soon to meet. 'He's Egyptian, you know,' he said, as if that explained everything. He had lost his house in the tsunami in Colombo, his brother-in-law was sick, his kids needed to go to school, and he made no money at the Hostel. 'Only 1,000 riyals a month, 24 hours a day, you know.' It was the usual story of who does the underpaid menial work. Although by the look of the place, it didn't look like he worked THAT hard.

Garbage overflowed from a bin in the corner and when I pointed to it the gnasher bent down and took out the plastic bag and tied it up. Throwing back the bedcovers, I discovered a curly, stiff, black hair, then another one, so I shook out the comforter and laid it over the sheet, then took another comforter from another bed, shook it out, and laid that over the bed for the blanket. I never took off my clothes. The bathroom wasn't clean either, and I gagged when I peeked in the toilet and saw an encrusted brown slider stain. The room had about as much warmth as a prison cell in San Quentin in February and the only thing lacking were the screaming inmates. It was going to be a long night, I could just tell. I wasn't about to head back to the center of the city to look for something else at that late hour so I took the room, but I was now grumbling about the price. $40US (150QR) for this?

I went downstairs to hand over my passport and pay the young Egyptian buffer who was running the show. I complained about the price for an unclean room. As I passed him my passport, he gave me the most supercilious smile I've ever seen. He said I could stay for two nights, 'I don't think a third,' he said, as if to punish me for my complaints about the crab catcher.

Breakfast was included. The floor and the breakfast tables were stained and greasy, and the top plate on a stack of dishes had black symmetrical droppings all over it, which I suspected might have been mouse turds. There were hard-boiled eggs, and I mean so hard boiled that they were green, and so dry that I couldn't swallow the damned thing and I panicked when it caught in my throat. There was cold toasted white bread, cheese triangles, jam, and finally, instant coffee with which to wash it all down. I've had worse, but combined with the room

After eating I immediately got online and booked a hotel room at La Villa Palace. For almost the same price (181QR/night) I got a clean room with no pubic hairs that was close to town and the corniche. I even had an arrow taped to my side table pointing to Mecca, in case I got caught up in my room.

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Doha had some of the biggest buildings I've ever seen. I'd hate to be standing near one during a storm because there was so much glass.

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These window cleaners were headed up to clean a very, very tall building. I got dizzy and felt sick just looking at them. I don't like heights.

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I went to some shops and absolutely EVERYTHING was wrapped in plastic. There wasn't one thing in the store that wasn't double wrapped. It made me sad to think of where it was all going to end up.

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Thank you Leeds Guide!

2011-02-01T06:44:00.000-08:00

Anyone who hasn't seen it here's my interview with The Leeds Guide, fabulous people that they are
http://www.leedsguide.co.uk/review/interview/jess-haigh/17801

Just wanna say one thing.

You may have noticed that this blog, compared to www.leedsbookclub.blogspot.com, is a bit, shall we say, plain.

This is because I am not a blogger. I don't know anything about how the internet actually works, or how to write coded script and make it look pretty or any of that jazz. I work in libraries and I am only concerned with promoting reading for pleasure. Yes I bash out some writing occasionally because I love doing it, but it isn't who I am.

I do not run www.leedsbookclub.blogspot.com, or the @LeedsBookClub twitter feed, as it might come accross in the article. That blog is entirely down to the incredibly hard work of Avid Reader as she's known on the blog, and I really don't want anyone confusing us.

If you want to read my writing, find the pieces tagged with "BookElf", that I didn't even tag myself because I have no idea what I'm doing!

Thank you. More info on the next Book Swap coming soon. I can confirm I'll be taking the Travelling Suitcase Library to #Bettakultcha on the 1st of March though (and I promise not to have a hideous migraine this time! Sorry anyone who brought books!) so hopefully see you there!

Happy Reading!
Jess xxx

The Travelling Suitcase Library @ Arcadia once again....

2011-01-20T02:52:00.000-08:00

The Travelling Suitcase Library Presents...
Presents…
A Book Swap to end all Book Swaps…
Arcadia, Headingley,
Sunday 30th January
From about 5ish
Bring Your Tomes!
As seen at Bettakutlcha, Culture Vulture, Morley Lit Fest LadyFestTen and many many more…
WE ARE ALSO VERY PROUD TO ANNOUNCE THE FIRST ARCADIA BOOK CLUB WILL BE MEETING AT THE SAME TIME…..
…tweet @LeedsBookClub, email leedsbookclub@gmail.com, web www.leedsbookclub.blogspot.com for details
…or just turn up! Very informal, friendly, open book club
WE WILL BE DISCUSSING THE FOLLOWING EXCELLENT TOME …. The White Woman on the Green Bicycle by Monique Roffey

Spellbound - Taiwan Lantern Festival

2011-01-16T08:45:00.000-08:00

The Shang Yuan Festival (or Lantern Festival) is celebrated on the fifteenth day of the first moon. The major cities in Taiwan rotate in hosting the event. I first saw the Lantern Festival when it was held in Tainan City, the oldest, and most traditional city in Taiwan.

Decorative lanterns displayed on large stages depict birds, animals, astrological symbols, historical figures and events, and any number of different themes. They're constructed throughout the country in schools and universities and by local businesses, with competitions being held for best lanterns in numerous categories. Lantern-making is a serious art form in Taiwan.

I went the first night to the lantern fest with my friend Ilona, but I was so blown away by the fantastic lanterns I had to go back again. I ran around like a mental case taking pictures, but when I look at them now, I'm glad I did.
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Taiwan Bushibans

2010-12-31T07:39:00.000-08:00

A plentiful amount of jobs. That was the situation in Taiwan in 2002 for ESL teachers. And having a western (read: white) face was one of the prerequisites to getting a job. I heard complaints from educated Canadian Chinese teachers (or educated Taiwanese Chinese) about their inability to get a well-paying job teaching English when pitted against a white native speaker, since parents, upon picking up their children up from the bushibans (cram schools), wanted to see a white, European face telling them how little Wee Wee was doing. They didn't believe that anybody Chinese could speak good English. It was a tricky situation.

To get an ARC (Alien Resident Card), one had to work in a government licensed bushiban for a minimum of 15 hours a week. You had to have a thorough health inspection (all body parts and secretions), current passport, no record, a degree (hopefully not a fake one) and a TESOL certificate (hopefully not a fake one), and a job. After obtaining an ARC through their bushibans, many teachers worked on the side at private schools, public schools, or universities. Many teachers also had "privates," or private students.

It wasn't too long before I got another job, at David's English School, run by a hyper-active 30-year-old man, an enormous change from the sodden George. I took a few weeks off before I started, but when I did, all hell broke loose.

Not only was I disgusted with what crept around on four legs and licked their underarms in Taiwan, but by the end of 2002, I had to worry about fatal pathogens coming into the classroom. SARS had struck. Symptoms ranged from coughing, to high temperature, to a runny nose, and if one suspected they were sick, they were to go to the hospital and get examined, and, if sick, they were quarantined.

Every person who entered a school, library, government building, shop, restaurant, mall, gym, or bushiban (except ours) was subjected to a temperature check, and usually by two skinny Taiwanese chicks with punk hairdos and Hello Kitty t-shirts. However, my boss was too afraid to take temperature readings and never made the students wear masks, simply because he didn't want to lose any business. Better that students should die or teachers should get infected than put the classes on hold for a week or two.

On the streets it was pandemonium. Hysteria was ramping up and everyone was now wearing a face mask. Many hospital workers were quarantined and there was no let-up in the fighting, screaming, and crying carried on outside the hospitals where the potentially sick staff were isolated. Every morning relatives of medical workers who were "trapped" inside gathered at the gates of the two biggest hospitals, wailing as they demanded to see their loved ones, who were hanging out the hospital windows waving and screaming at their relations down below. One or two individuals tried to jump out of the building to escape the quarantine while a few of their co-workers restrained them. With tear-streaked faces they waved white flags and held up peace signs, shouting profanities to the newspaper reporters and camera crews that had gathered on the street. You might have thought that all these people were heading off to the gallows rather than chilling for 10 days.

In some neighborhoods across the city, garbage was thrown at police and streets were barricaded by those who lived there so those who were infected with SARS could not return home. One woman actually jumped out of a window and committed suicide because she was so afraid of catching SARS. Her mother stood weeping and tearing her hair as she was interviewed by a reporter. Restaurants were empty, business was down, and everyone was losing money. Everyone except for shopkeepers who were selling pineapples, because evidently pineapples could ward off SARS. People were fighting over pineapples and I didn't think it could get any worse.

One day while all this insanity was going on outside, I was in a class with 14 students. A young woman came in and sat down. She was pale and sweaty and shivering so I asked her if she was all right, keeping in mind that we were still not checking temperatures as the students came into the school. She said, "I sick but I take pill so I bit better now." I said, "Jesus, you must really like English class. Thanks for bringing your germs by." Another student grinned weakly and squeaked out "SARS"?

So here it was, the crux for me. There was a fatal disease invading the planet, the city was in a panic, everybody was wearing a mask, businesses were being ruined, people were quarantined, and she had all the symptoms - runny nose, flu, aching limbs, passing out, near death - but better she should die, or take the chance on infecting everyone else at the very least, than miss her bloody English class.

The Lighter Side of Teaching English in Taiwan

2010-12-27T03:41:00.000-08:00

I was puzzled why someone so enamored of face creams, hand moisturizers, health food, and enzyme bio-technology would come to Taiwan, because it's not known for its fresh air and clean spaces; but then, that was Nicole, a woman from California that I'd met at a youth hostel in Koashiung. She was the first person in my trek around Taiwan with whom I could connect. We roamed around Koashiung together for two days before I lit out and took a bus to Tainan City.

After two days, I told Nicole to come, she would like the city, and not to waste her time looking for a job in Koashiung, which was noticeably hotter and more polluted. Within days of her arrival she got a job at the YWCA, and she said they were looking for other teachers, but she had no intention of staying very long, just long enough to pick up a check before returning to California. She just wanted the gig to pay for her travel. I, on the other hand, was going to be staying for longer than two months and wanted something more substantial. After seeing the scuzzy classrooms at the YWCA, I decided it was not where I wanted to work.

While walking the next day, I saw a sign for Anderson's School on the fourth floor of a large building, so I went up and asked the two secretaries if I could see the boss. 'He not here,' the older one said. 'He back later.' I ducked into the classrooms and thumbed through their work books, then went to a fruit stand across the street. Fifteen minutes into my mango juice, I spotted the secretary waving at me in front of the building. 'Boss man here now,' she yelled. I went back up to talk to George, a sullen piece of work, and he virtually hired me on the spot. "One of our teachers is leaving," he said. How easy was that, I thought. Christ, I could be a worm-picker from Idaho for all he cares. And just like that, I had a job in Taiwan.

Now that I had a job, I had to get a flat. Luckily, the YWCA provided a flat for Nicole, and there were other vacant flats, so I took one. Mine was on the 4th floor (unlucky number) and it was number 13 (another unlucky number).

All the windows were covered in metal screens secure enough to keep stormtroopers out, and I wondered how I'd ever escape in an emergency. The bed had a stained double mattress that was so solid that if I sat on it too hard I might have damaged my spine, and some other chipped pieces of furniture, but I did have a wide, leafy tree outside my front window that blocked out the view of the other drab buildings. It was suitable, if not ideal.

I started at the school in March 2002. I was lucky to have a great mentor when I was there, an American named Greg, who taught me everything there was to know about babysitting. I sat in on his classes and took notes, and he was generous enough to let me copy his materials. Also teaching there was a dread-locked Australian, Mark, and the three of us became good friends. The classes weren't too difficult, although I had kids from the age of 4 - 12. When George and his wife weren't arguing, there was a good vibe to the place. George complained that he didn't want to be there running the school, he was a stockbroker, he wanted to be doing other things. Rumour had it that the school was just a tax write-off. It wasn't really a school.

Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Nicole was feeling more and more guilty about running out on the YWCA after just three weeks and whined about it obsessively, biting her nails as she wondered which excuse would be best. Could I tell them she had to leave suddenly because she had an accident? Or her father was sick? Or she was being deported? Could I return all the things she'd borrowed from them? Could I apologize for her? I said yes, yes, yes, simply because if it hadn't been for her help when I had needed it, I would have lost my sanity weeks earlier.

After a couple of months of working, George approached me and called me into his office. 'You're playing too many games with the kids,' he said. Okay, so I'll play less games. A week later he pulled me aside again and said 'You're not giving them enough homework.' Okay, so I'll give them more homework. The next week he pulled me aside again 'You need to play more games, the kids are bored.' Okay, more games. The following week he pulled me aside once more and said 'You're giving them too much homework, the parents are complaining.' Okay, less homework.

This went on a couple more times until one day I was sitting in the lunchroom taking a break with Mark and Greg when George came in and said 'Nancy, you're not reading enough stories to the kids' and I looked at him and said 'Oh, for God's sake dude, make up your bloody mind what you want.' He frowned and walked off and within a week, cameras were set up in the classrooms so the parents could watch the class.

Finally, by June, I decided I needed a vacation and approached George in his office. I told him my mother had died and I needed to go back to Canada for a month. He said, "no problem." Two hours later, after I'd finished my class, he approached me and asked me to come into his office.

'I'm going to have to let you go.'
'Why?'
'If you go to Canada, how do we know you'll return?'
'But I'm going to.... I just need to go deal with some stuff. Really.'

I assured him I'd come back, but it didn't matter, his mind was made up and it was over. I went out to grumble to Mark and Greg.

'Christ,' I said, 'first my mother dies, then I get fired. Nice.'

And just like that, I didn't have a job in Taiwan anymore.

Gunung Rajah, Bentong, Pahang

2010-12-26T07:36:00.000-08:00

Gunung Rajah, Bentong, Pahang
Height 1685 m / 5526 ft
December 5-7 2010

Usually during the months of Nov - Dec we would take leave from going camping up in the mountains because of the monsoon season. That means lots of rain. When it rains the trail is slippery, muddy and filled with leaches. Not to mention the rising river when during river crossings sometimes are dangerous or difficult to cross. Setting up tents in the rain pose another challenge. And by saying that I would usually trek less and less means lower stamina.

When David of G7 Hash invited us for this trip, I was feeling reluctant but when it was mentioned a 3 days 2 nights trip, the feeling of reluctance change to anticipation. How fast things can changed in split seconds. What this means is that 3 days 2 night trip would signal a relax holiday trek to Gunung Rajah which for an out of shape guy like me wouldn't mind at all.

Hok Mew, KC and myself met up with them at Seri Kembangan food court just across the road from South City Plaza for planning the trip. Everyone was in a jovial mood and especially for KC as for the first time she doesn't need to cook. The campsite is quite spacious and just nice for 22 of us.
The plan was simple as day 1 trek 4 hours to campsite, day 2 trek 3 hours to summit and back, day 3 trek back to car park and home.

Gunung Rajah became infamous for a lightning incident that happened many years ago where 2 campers lost their lives. But Still... like they say... trekking and camping in the mountains is safer than traveling on Malaysian roads. Aren't you glad to hear that!

Gunung Rajah trail is through The Chamang Waterfalls which is about 8km from Bentong Town.
At Bentong Town in the morning the happening place is at their morning market where it is crowded with traders selling various foods and products. We meet at 8.00 am in the morning and had our breakfast there. Dim Sum here is quite popular and the other is the Wan Ton noodle at the corner shop. From nasi lemak to local delicacies you can find it here. The chinese here are predominantly of the "Kong Sai" dialects which is Cantonese but with a different pronunciation. After the walk about in the market and buying some local sweet delicacies like the "Sa Kae Mah" which is a sweet biscuit and tasty and the famous "tau foo pok" or the famous Bentong ginger.

We continue towards Chamang Waterfall carpark. Standing in front of Chamang Waterfalls gives you the feeling of energy and a great force as tons of water comes gushing down. Double check your backpacks and make sure what you need is there and gather for group photos. Take lots of photos otherwise you will forget some of the details. The start trail is about an hour following the old logging trail which will pass by a mini hydro electric dam and a small 'orang asli' community. All along the trail you would be able to hear or see the river and waterfalls. KC and myself were the last to trek. We have another group of friends Ah Meng, Ah Onn and friends who is on a 1 day trek to Gunung Rajah Summit and back to carpark had started the trek at around 7am. They were so nice to lay pieces of paper trail (biodegradable off course!) all the way to the peak. After passing the mini hydro electric dam 5 mins later we heard the sound of a 4wd behind us and suddenly stop to offered us a ride to the end of the logging trail. Without hesitation we jump in as this will save us a 1 hour trek and along the way they started picking almost half the group, Lucky us.

We continue on following the paper trail and finally stop at a river crossing for lunch break. About 10 mins later the rest of the group arrived. The river is clear and inviting us to jump in for a swim. Ate our lunch snack biscuits and the rest of the group trickle in.

Our next stop is to our campsite only to discover its half an hour away. This campsite is probably big enough for about 30 campers and with good clear swimming areas and a 3 storey high water fall below. Weather was fine with everyone finding their spot to pitch tents. It was too early for dinner so we took our bath and ate some biscuits snack, took more photographs till dinner time. Later Siow Lee and friends prepared dinner for 22 people and they make it so easy. Dinner was delicious and there was no left over.

The weather was just nice cool but not cold but the sand flies made their presence felt by giving almost everyone a bite. Tonight we rest early as tomorrow we will trek to the peak.

Day 2. Morning call and a quick breakfast of 'teh tarik' biscuits and bread. Pack a light pack of snack food and tea leaves. We started at about 8.45am and the weather was perfect. We just followed the paper trail placed by Ah Meng yesterday so it was kind of leisurely pace with plenty of time for taking photos. The trail is quite opened and clean with occasional large fallen trunks to cross over. We reached the usual bonsai peak and can actually view Gunung Rajah and here there are good opportunity to take photos especially with bonsai trees with its exposed red barks making the picture interesting. Another half hour we have to climb the steep almost vertical slope on the rock face using fasten ropes, roots and uneven rock for a slow ascend.We reach the peak at around 11.45am after trekking for about 3 hours and in a relaxing mood for photos and snacks and more photos. Stanley Chan with another group pointed to the various locations for Genting Highlands, Gunung Benum and other peaks. Later more photos and a slow trek back to camp to enjoy the waterfall and cool weather for another night. As for tonight KC brought her home made fruit cakes to celebrate my 50th birthday or half a century. Thanks to her for a wonderful birthday memory. Tonight everyone will sleeping late to enjoy the jungle and waterfall environment.

3rd Day, Breakfast simple with snacks and drinks. Pack up and leisurely trek out to the carpark and since its a holiday, Chamang Waterfall Recreation Park is full of visitors. You can take a nice bath by paying 30 cents or jump in the river for free. With so many other visitors I just pay 30 cents and for some they like the waterfall. Later we Lunch just outside of Bentong town before going home with good memories of another successful climb.

Click Play below for photo viewing

I'm sorry but this has to be said...

2010-12-17T13:13:00.000-08:00

I know this isn't a political blog, but this is the only public forum I've got.

TAX AVOIDENCE SHOULD BE A CRIME
There is gonna be a few protests tomorrow. I hate violence, we should educatate not isolate. Here are some more carols with tax-avoidence lyrics.

In The Bleak Midwinter
In the bleak midwinter, tax payers moaned,
Philip Green won't pay for, all that we are owed
He could pay for nurses, he could pay for schools,
But instead he'll pay nowt, and still keep the rules

Our Government is not fair, out government sucks.
For we're loosing our jobs, whilst they keep ther bucks
In the bleak midwinter, tax payers moaned,
Why won't all these millionaires, pay what we are owed?

Philip The Tax Avoider
Philip the Tax Avoider,
Had a very shiney nose,
And if you ever saw it,
You would even say it grows, (like his tax bill)

All of the tax avoiders,
Really should all pay their tax,
So next time that your in Topshop,
Ask them for your money back.

The Travelling Suitcase Libraries’ Christmas Recommendations, ( because sometimes, you have to buy the books…)

2010-11-23T08:18:00.000-08:00

Do you despair at the readers in your life preferring trash to treasure? At the Travelling Suitcase Library we believe there’s nothing wrong with that! This Christmas, why not treat them to something you know they’ll enjoy. These are some of the most popular titles that I’ve lent out in the past year. I hope that your readers enjoy them.

For the Twilight fan in your life…House of Night series by P. C. Cast and Kristin Cast
I know vampires are sooo 2009, but this ever-growing series set in a ‘school for vampyres’ (so the best bits of Harry and Edward combined) flies of the shelves, is easy to get into and also features openly gay characters, a rarity in YA fiction. ‘Marked’ is the first one, but at £10.50 for the first three on Amazon this is an easy stocking filler for love-struck teens.

Sleep Pale Sister by Joanne Harris
Before Chocolat, Johnny Depp and world wide fame, Yorkshire writer Joanne Harris wrote hauntingly beautiful gothic thrillers. Sleep Pale Sister is the story of Effie, Victorian artist’s model who is kept as a laudanum-addled bride by the sinister Henry Chester. When she meets her lover Mose, she is drawn into the ghostly story of Marta, a brothel keeper’s daughter, murdered ten years ago and planning her revenge. Yes the subject matter is slightly risky for younger readers, but this is guaranteed to thrill fans of the gothic, and acts as a nice little introduction to ‘grown up’ books.

The Glass Lake by Meave Binchey.
I know, I know, but work with me here. This book has everything a Twilight fan requires, apart from the fangs. Teenage drama and am embarrassing family? Check. Strange mystery surrounding loved one? Check. Evolution of heroine from spoilt small town princess to grown modern women? Check. Everlasting love? Check. The least ‘provincial’ of Binchey’s books, this is the story of Kit, who’s beautiful, if odd mother tragically disappears in the lake near her small Irish town. As Kit grows up the mystery surrounding the supposed death deepens until she receives a letter from her mother’s childhood friend… I love this book, which I first read when I was twelve, and would recommend it as a great way to wean your teen off the vamps. Plus it’s a good three inches thick, which as any serious teen bookworm knows, are the only books worth checking out these days!

For the Jodi Picault fan in your life…The Lost Daughter by Diane Chamberlain
Less weepy, more pacy than Picault, Chamberlain again is from the ‘tell don’t show’ school of writing hated by Creative Writing students but loved by readers who want chunky heated storylines without the commitment of literary prose. This is the story of foolish love struck teen CeeCee, who has vital information on the murder of Genevieve Russell which tears apart her whole family. Gripping and movingly written, recommended.

American Wife by Curtis Sittenfeld
A ‘fictional story’ based heavily on the life of Laura Bush, this book is as fascinating as it is frustrating. Almost a justification for her action, Alice Blackwell looks back on her life leading up the last year of her husband’s presidency. You’ll love, then hate her. Sittenfeld is a wonderful writer and the depiction of America throughout the 60s to the present day is nostalgic and insightful, as well as impeccably researched.

The Girls by Lori Lansens
Absolutely riveting story of two conjoined twins living in small town Canada. This will appeal to Picault fans for its empathetic rendorings of the twin sister’s thought, and dreams. Although the writing is not consistant throughout, with the opening chapters being by far the best in the book, the amazing characterisations of Rose and Ruby and the pathos behind their condition makes this a weepy, but a goody.

For the Phillippa Gragory fan in your life
The King’s Daughter by Christie Dickason
Similar in premise to Gregory’s Tudor court novels, this takes a woman from history and re-works her story with a slightly more modern emphasis. The King’s Daughter is the tale of Princess Elizabeth, daughter of King James IV of Scotland, I of England and is absolutely fascinating. I have no idea how historically accurate this book is, but if they’re an ardent Gregory fan then historical accuracy really isn’t going to be the be all and end all is it. At the end of the day it’s a damn good yarn and has a sparkly cover with a ruff on it, what more do you need?

Crown in Candlelight by Rosemary Hawley Jarman
This is one of those writers that was massive back in the day, and deserves to become popular again. Writing of the Plantagenet era, Hawley Jarman’s pen pours beautiful flowery prose that just weeps along with you. This is my favourite of hers’, Katherine of Valios, raised in the mad corrupt dangerous world of the French court in the early 1400s marries the conquering English King Henry V (him off Agincourt). After the King’s death she falls for a certain Welsh archer, Owen Tudor, founding a rather more famous (if the world of publishing will have anything to do with it anyways) dynasty. Wonderful stuff.

Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel
Because it is so good I can hardly speak. And if they’re as big a Tudor buff as they like to make out, then there will be no need to have a pen and paper to hand to keep track of the thousand and one characters called ‘Thomas’.

Riding the Waves

2010-11-10T14:00:00.000-08:00

There are times when I feel overwhelmed by the scale and pace of the destruction of Life on Earth. I get into the grip of that "too little too late" fear, and with the despair comes a deep weariness of spirit. During those times I don't want to learn anything else about the problems; I don't want to hear about another ecological disaster or ongoing struggle; I don't even want to know about another 'bright green' solution that is ever so bright but still not BIG enough to actually change things...

During those times, all I want to do is curl up inside the beauty of the world, and let it be all that is... just for a little while...

Safe for a moment. And then, I can recognise that the despair is a reason for apathy, an excuse for carelessness. Refreshed for a moment. And then, I can acknowledge that my hope for sustainable human existence is a powerful force for creating the long future I want for my child and her children; and my despair is part of the problem! Inspired for a moment. And then, I realise I should be spending more of my time immersed in David Attenborough's TV series than reading the news!

Burning Ghost Money in Taiwan

2010-11-09T09:22:00.000-08:00

Within ten minutes of getting off the bus from Kaoshiung, I knew that I wanted to stay in Tainan City. It's the oldest city in Taiwan, and the most traditional (as everyone will remind you), but it was also a city for the young - kids crowded the sidewalks and there was a buzz in the air, probably because it's a university town, with National Cheng Kung University, one of the top and most prestigious universities in the country, located there. Of course, I didn't know all this when I was walking down the street searching for a hotel, I just knew that I liked the vibe. I decided to stay and look for a job and see how it went.

The next day, as I was checking out the main street up from the train station, I saw a wanted poster for felons and/or missing persons tacked to a bulletin board outside a small police station. I didn't know, of course, what their offenses were because I can't read Mandarin, but I pondered the mugshots and wondered what these people could possibly have done. Were they missing? Did they approach children in a park and threaten them with a pencil? Attack their sisters or mothers? They didn't look very dangerous, just misshapen and odd, perhaps mentally ill, but I chuckled as I thought that these mug shots were the Taiwanese comedic equivalent of those found at the Smoking Gun website, where mugshots of America's most ridiculous outsiders can be found.

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I couldn't find a suitable place to sit down and eat, the food being so foreign. I had also not had a conversation with anyone of my stripe for what seemed like weeks, and the loneliness I felt in my soul was unimaginable. I have never felt so isolated while surrounded by so many. And my breasts might have been exposed, judging by the looks I received. Stares that told me I was odd - and they were so free to just look me over, cover their mouths and giggle, the traditional way of saying hello I suppose; but I didn't take it personally. In my first few days in Tainan City, there was little to do but reflect on my own life, the nonsensical billboards, and the phenomenal abundance of skin whiteners and hair products.
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Scooters were ubiquitous. Parked on sidewalks, lining the street and curbs, and at every corner, idling and waiting for lights to change. I thought I'd never be able to drive a scooter in Tainan what with the choking traffic, but I eventually did buy one. It was a challenge, and became a video game of exciting lane changes. I only had one accident in five years, and I consider that an accomplishment, and it was only because I was driving too fast and t-boned another scooter as it was turning left. It could have been worse. The scar on my right ankle from that accident matches the scar on my left ankle, the one that I got in Sapa, Vietnam, when I crashed on a mountain road.

I thought I would get lung cancer from all the smoke, not only from the scooters, but from the joss paper that sent plumes of smoke into the air from red braziers set up outside businesses, storefronts, and apartment buildings. The Taiwanese burn what they call "ghost money," not only on the 1st and 15th day of the lunar calendar, but during major festivals, funerals and weddings, to ensure that their ancestors have enough "money" to buy the things they need in the afterlife. Greed never ends.

Many temples also have large furnaces just inside their grounds in order to burn vast amounts of ghost money. Money can be bought at the temples, or in special "money" stores. Outside the walls of the temples the roar of the fires in the furnaces can be heard, especially after midnight, and the smoke billows out into the neighborhoods. It's a metallic, lethal odor, and the larger the amount burned per individual, the better received it is in the netherworld. Folding paper money during the burning ceremony also differentiates joss paper from actual money, but burning actual money is considered unlucky. Paper is folded into specific shapes, which is also meant to bring good luck. Every fifteen days business owners in Taiwan burn ghost money in red braziers and set out offering tables on the sidewalk, which can consist of anything from fruit to flowers to packaged meat, for both Gods and ghosts. But alas, after my little tour of the city, it was time to find a job.

Lady Fest Ahoy!

2010-11-03T10:09:00.000-07:00

Due to the final part of the incredibly exciting Travelling Suitcase Library On Tour taking me to LadyFest Ten in London Town from Friday 12th to Sunday 14th November, there will be no book swap at Arcadia on that Sunday...

... or at least one that I will be attending.

However, if you love books and want to swap with other people who also love books, why not just turn up and find each other? It's a lovely pub, does decent food and cracking beer and you should all just do a swap anyway without me...

anyone who is coming to LadyFest (and I strongly recommend you do as it looks flipping awesome) then check out the www.forbookssake.net website for more details of where I'm going to be, and the other great literary events taking place.

The tour has been a great, if very tiring experience. Big up the #bettakultcha and Morley Lit Fest and Theatre in the Mill crus for putting up with me, hopefully more tour dates to come in the future!

Happy Reading!
Jess x

Taiwan - Celebrating the Gods

2010-10-31T01:59:00.000-07:00

As I continued my travels around the island from Kenting, I learned that the Taiwanese worship a variety of Buddhist, Taoist, and other folk deities. Every weekend there are celebrations throughout the country to worship the gods, and while on my travels, I happened into many parades and celebrations. Each temple has its own god, so there are literally thousands of different gods in Taiwan. Statues of deities are loaded onto wooden palanquins and carried through a maelstrom of firecrackers, traffic, police, and cheering crowds. Decorated floats follow giant walking gods which have wildly contorted faces and glaring eyes to ward off evil spirits. Then, once the caravan nears the temple, firecrackers that have been laid out up and down the blocks surrounding it are set off, and the celebrations begin, with many of the men who have carried the palanquins already drunk and their teeth beet red with bettle juice. It was dangerous to be anywhere around the celebrations because I never knew when the firecrackers would be lit and they could come at you from any direction.

Year of the Tiger

2010-10-30T15:59:00.000-07:00

2010 is the Chinese Year of the Tiger, and also the United Nation's International Year of Biodiversity. While the polar bear is a most arresting poster species of climate change, probably no other animal can fit the same role as well as the tiger when it comes to looming mass extinction and our ongoing loss of the Earth's biodiversity. Despite years of conservation funding, all sorts of legal protections and masses of blood, sweat and tears from dedicated human champions, tigers are still worse off in 2010 than they have ever been.

The animal most widely regarded by humans as the most beautiful of all, endlessly evocative to poets and artists, and the epitome of wildness to many nature-lovers, remains precariously confined, in the smallest of numbers, to pitiful, isolated slivers of land; as vulnerable as ever to death by poaching humans, mostly for consumption for completely superstitious or egocentric reasons.

How can this be?

In the days before I gave birth to my child, a friend came by with a pile of books she had cleared out. Amongst them was Ruth Padel's Tigers in Red Weather. I pounced on it. Here was a celebrated British poet and great-great-granddaughter of Charles Darwin writing of her travels through tigerlands in 2005. It was irresistible, and after my daughter was born I ignored the wisdom 'to sleep when baby sleeps', and instead lay with sleeping child in my arms as I consumed the book. While I relished the quality of the writing so much, the dismal plight of tigers hit home very hard; extra cutting when you have just brought a new life into the world.

What is happening to this world?

190 countries have just reached agreement in Nagoya, Japan on 20 goals to minimise mass extinction in the next 10 years. This includes increasing the amount of protected land from 12.5% to 17%. The area of protected ocean will increase from 1% to 10%. This is being heralded as a landmark agreement. Every gain, no matter how paltry is a gain. Yes.

Of course, what justifies the decimation of wildlands and the extinction of species is always "human interest". We've got to look after business first; then people, then tigers, then habitats, then eco-systems, then the Planet. We're still way short of the acknowledgement that all human interest is irrevocably embedded in Nature. There is no business on Earth without the eco-system services that sustain life. We need biology because we are biology. How much do we need to lose before we understand this? When do we look to our precious children and say it is not okay to bequeath this world of loss to them?

There are probably no more than 3000 wild tigers alive today.

At the top of their particular food chain, tigers are a measure of the health of our eco-systems. As their viable populations collapse, so millions of other species are vulnerable to collapse too.

Read more: Convention on Biological Diversity http://www.cbd.int/2010/welcome/
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/earth/earthnews/8098540/Landmark-UN-Nagoya-biodiversity-deal-agreed-to-save-natural-world.html
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/21/opinion/21iht-edlovejoy.html?_r=1