Rove Magazine Issue Two (02)

BOLIVIAN SALT FLATS 26 PHOTO PAGES by amy fisher

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ISSUE TWO CONTENTS Âť RANDOM INFORMATION 06 Mount Everest has finally joined the 21st century. Thanks to Nepali firm Ncell climbers can now enjoy full 3G coverage

WHERE THE ROAD HAS TAKEN ME 12 Going from family trips with comfortable accommodations to a sixty litre pack, three pairs of underwear, and my own savings tucked away in my money belt was a big step

BOLIVIAN SALT FLATS 26 Photoset of the Bolivian Salt Flats by Amy Fisher.

HOW NOT TO GET SLAPPED OR SLAP OTHERS IN SOUTH KOREA 38 A lesson plan about avoiding the ever awkward social faux-pas, by English teacher Ashley Lockyer.

WHY HAVEN’T I HEARD OF...

54 Vaing Vieng, Laos.

LOCAL KNOWLEDGE 64 Talking rugby, beach life and sports with Auckland, New Zealand native Jeffrey Lee.

REVIEWS 74 “On The Road” by Jack Kerouac

TRAVELER PROFILE 78 I am a 23-year-old Canadian journalism student and I have recently come back from my first backpacking adventure in South America. masthead » Editor: Kevin Landry / editor@rovemag.com Sales: Andrew McLeod / sales@rovemag.com Creative Director: Nick Budden / nickb@rovemag.com

RANDOM INFORMATION

A single conversation with a wise man is better than ten years of study. - Chinese Proverb

OMG just climbed Everest, totally tweeting this!

Mount Everest has finally joined the 21st century. Thanks to Nepali firm Ncell climbers can now enjoy full 3G coverage. Thanks to the eight base stations positioned along the trekking route to base camp you can tweet while you abseil and update your facebook status while you belay. The 3G coverage was put in place to serve climbers who until now had to rely on archaic voice only phones and although untested, Ncell claims the coverage will reach the summit. At least now some of those facebook status updates might be interesting.

Coolest race on earth Antarctica is one of earth’s final frontiers, a forbidding landscape of Ice and snow: as of late it’s also become somewhat of a destination for sports.

Races like the Antarctic Ice marathon and the gruelling four deserts race series have brought an increasing number of tourists to the icy frontier.

Each December runners race against the onset of frostbite as they brave the slick, uneven terrain and frigid temperatures during the course of the event, plus one heck of a warm up. The winning time last year was 4:46:50 and run in temperatures well below freezing. If the conditions aren’t enough to dissuade you perhaps the 9,900 euro price tag is, and no, that doesn’t include the cost of getting to the take off point in Punta Arena, Chile.

Creative Commons: flickr.com/photos/ilker/2494730890/

Round the world Tip Tips are the subject of much confusion when travelling, although much appreciated in some areas, others find the practice vulgar and offensive. Here are some tipping customs in different countries around the globe: - Australia - 10% is generally expected in bars, restaurants and taxis.

- Italy - 20% is often a mandatory gratuity placed on restaurant bills.

- France - One or two Euros would be an acceptable tip here regardless of the total bill.

- Greece - An equal tip is left for the waiter and for the runner, who brings the bread and water.

- Canada - Tipping between 10-15% is expected on most services.

- Singapore - Tipping is unexpected and not encouraged by the government.

- Japan - Don’t do it, it can cause embarrassment and loss of face. Never Tip.

Lax Portuguese drug laws lead to fewer deaths Problem: drug abuse and related deaths are becoming a problem. Solution: decriminalize the use and possession of marijuana, heroin, cocaine, LSD and various other drugs. Portugal made a bold decision when they decided to decriminalize many street drugs in 2004 but the decision has paid off. A recent study by the Cato institute in Washington has revealed that Six years down the road there are fewer deaths from overdoses; the ambitious plan is working. Under the current laws, traffickers are still punished with jail time, but users are put before a three person panel who can recommend a small fine, treatment or no punishment whatsoever, which has resulted in many criminals getting the treatment they need to kick the habit instead of going to jail.

Oranges, Really!?

La tomatina, the popular Spanish food fight in Buñol, Spain has put food fights on the map. Each year thousands of participants flood the streets and hurl tomatoes at each other until the streets literally run red. In the Italian town if Ivrea they decided to go with a much harsher fruit - oranges. The celebration, aptly named the battle of oranges commemorates the beheading of a tyrant who claimed the right to bed every village woman on her wedding night and involves ‘guards’ on carts facing off against ‘the rebels’ on foot. Originally celebrated by throwing beans, the 19th century upped the ante and started the business of launching fruits. Go in February to the medieval town to see it firsthand, it’s rumoured that if you go the day after it is coincidentally the world’s largest gathering of circular bruise sufferers.

A new sport at the X-games perhaps?

Some things go together perfectly, peanut butter and jelly, yin and yang, luggage and scooters; wait what was that last one? The TITAN High-Roller, a new luggage concept proposes we mix the two to form a device that would make a transformer jealous, and fit nicely in the overhead stowaway compartments. Designed with fun in mind, the high-roller features a special panel that slides out from the bottom and a handlebar that raises in the front making it go from boring, everyday luggage to off the charts half scooter hybrid in mere seconds. The only downside would be that the extremely large business man who inevitably will sit beside you (yes the one whose stomach is dripping onto your lap) will now be sweaty as well due to all that scooting. http://technabob.com/blog/2010/09/02/titan-scooter-suitecase-combo/

WHERE THE ROAD HAS TAKEN ME reflections on life & travel with katie heckman

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Although in this day and age it is difficult to justify the expense of travel especially considering the environmental, economical, and social impacts that are directly related to the act of travelling, I am still a firm believer in the importance and value of becoming culturally diverse through experience.

I was never one for book smarts and have found that my greatest academic successes were often the result of “hands- on opportunities�. As such this experiential method of education has created a great love and appreciation for the potential learning experiences that come with travelling and adventure (although not the initial justification for my love to explore). I have always been accustomed to travelling and took my first trip before I was even out of the womb. Needless to say, as I get older my travels have taken me to bigger and brighter places but I can’t forget those first steps that enabled me to understand more about myself than any textbook, teacher, parent, or friend ever could.

Growing up in Ontario, Canada just outside of Ottawa in an upper-middle class neighbourhood was definitely not all it was cracked up to be. I mean yes, on paper, my family looked great. Stay at home mom, successful doctor dad, academic perfectionist sister, and me, the sporty one. But as many families would tell you the perfect house with the perfect door can only hide so much and ultimately these imperfections that my family possessed lead me to my athletic career and thus the many traveling opportunities that blossomed from

being a part of elite athletics. At the age of 13, I was already off to Toronto for provincials in soccer, out to western Canada for a National tournament and then over the next five years traveled to the better part of both Canada and the United States. With these experiences in mind I would never dock the potential that Canada and the United States hold as travel destinations.

From the liberty bell and running up the stairs like Rocky in Philadelphia, to the beautiful architecture in Chicago, to the lush forests of Southern Maine, to the uniqueness of Providence Rhode Island, to the peaks of Banff and Lake Louise, and the sunsets of Brandon Manitoba, to the beaches of Daytona Florida and seeing the devastation of 09/11 in New York only months after the accident. I would never replace these memories for anything in the

world and would never feel the way I do today about traveling if these moments never occurred in my life at such an influential age.

As I grew older and made my way through the monotonous years of high school I was blessed enough to have a few family vacations that took me south of the United States to Cuba and Costa Rica. Although both of these trips were not necessarily my idea of “roughing it” they were still amazing experiences in two countries that presented a certain amount of uniqueness. While in Cuba I was able to make a trip to Havana (the Capital) where the Cuban culture was rich and thriving. The Catholic influence was prominent throughout the city as well as the cigar industry and of course (one of my favourite memories) of all, the Ernest Hemingway hotspots. Cuba is a very unique political country with its authoritarianism mind set ruling the decisions of the country.

It is easy to get caught up in the resort atmosphere in such a place but I would suggest to anyone that goes to Cuba to venture outside the boundaries of their resort and explore the history and culture that lies within the capital.

After two trips to Cuba with my family, we decided to change our winter holiday to something a bit more off the beaten trail. I had

always had an interest in Costa Rica because of its rich rainforests and diverse habitat. I managed to convince the rest of the family that we needed to be more exotic and take on a jungle infused country.

With great success we ended up at a resort in Tambor. Once I stepped foot off our International flight in San Jose I knew we had made the right decision. In order to get to Tambor we needed to jump on another flight that was a bit less luxurious than the last. We climbed into an eight seater airplane that took off over the mountainous landscape of the country. After having forty minutes of “close calls” with the various mountain peaks, we began our landing. Now this in itself was not or has never since been a terrifying experience for me but on this particular occasion the lack of land that existed in view out the airplane window gave me reason to panic. Foot after foot we dropped to what looked liked was about to be water submergence, followed by a crash onto the beach turned into an unexpected smooth landing onto a 100 metre landing strip located only inches from the water line. Needless to say I was glad to have two feet back on the ground.

Costa Rica did not disappoint in the wildlife department. Upon arrival, we noticed that parrots were flying overhead, howler monkeys were swinging vigorously in the trees, and

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iguanas crept along the ground toward us. All in all the experience was filled with boogie boarding, zip lining through the jungle, and enjoying the company of the locals as well as other tourists.

So begins my need for a more independent international travel experience. However, my desire to experience the world needed to be put on hold for four years to go to university and get an education (which was a great four years might I add). So the minute I got my diploma my next thought was “I need a job so that I can make enough money to travel” which is exactly what I did. After a solid six months of work I finally had enough money to pack up a very small amount of clothing and head to almost the farthest location from where I was currently residing; Thailand and Laos. This was a big leap for me. Going from family trips with comfortable accommodations to a sixty litre pack, three pairs of underwear, and my own savings tucked away in my money belt was a big step. But this is ideally what I wanted. It was time for me to move past luxury and head in a direction that would open my eyes to culture, independence and street smarts (the best kind).

Now there are about a thousand stories that I could touch on here but I’d rather highlight some of the things on my trip that truly changed the way I think and feel about the experience of traveling; transportation, bathrooms, and food. All simple things that we take for granted on a daily basis in the western world.

So let me set the stage. I am in the middle of Northern Laos with a few friends coming out of the jungle on a less than desirable road in the back of an old truck that was more often than not close to getting stuck in the eight foot puddles that lay in the middle of our path. Now this in itself is not the transportation struggle that we encountered.

It was later on that day when the truck dropped us off in the middle of another dirt road where a few of us were told that a bus would be by to pick us up and take us to Luang PraBang. So myself, a good friend from home and two new friends that we had met on our jungle adventure all sat there and watched the rest of the group pull away in the truck in hopes that we were not being led astray with the expectation that a bus was really going to come get us.

While we waited we watched farm trucks with local kids on the back pass by covered in dirt and smiles wondering how a bus was going to travel these same dirt roads.

Finally, after about an hour a big bus pulls up and stops a few yards away. We are told by a local that this is our ride and we grab our packs and head onto the bus. This is no ordinary greyhound bus but rather something that looked like it was designed to ship prisoners to and from the penitentiary (slight exaggeration). So I hopped up the steps of the side door, looked right, then to the left and noticed a small cluster of fellow foreigners and migrated in their direction.

Taking a seat was a bit more then challenging as the only empty space happened to be right beside a tied down motorbike in the middle of the aisle (both a practical and safe location).

As we settled in the bus pulled away on what we did not know would be the longest, most eventful, unsafe journey of our trip.

We knew little of the roads in Laos but later found out that the poor country could not afford to make their own highway so had to rely on funds from Vietnam and Thailand to make a dirt road with gigantic pot holes that winded itself around the edges of hundreds of cliffs. Now for

the people of Laos this road was one of the greatest things to happen to their country as access to other parts of the country became much more efficient, but for the average tourist this road presented nothing but a raised awareness of the safety issues and a heightened pulse.

After enduring about three hours of travel and beautiful scenery (with approximately 20 near death experiences with oncoming traffic) the bus took a corner and suddenly slammed on the breaks. Again, for travellers this seemed rather unusual but for all the locals on the bus this was apparently a common occurrence as every single one of them leaped from their seats to take a look out the window. As tourists, we decided to follow their lead and to our dismay saw a motorcyclists lifeless body wrapped around a wooden barrier pole about 10 yards away from his bike. My raw instincts overcame me and I found myself running out of the bus to the aid of this poor young man. The locals surrounded him and did everything that a person should not do in this situation including moving the body, poking and prying.

An English traveller and I took the lead and managed to signal everyone to step away from the body. My first aid skills kicked in and I began taking his pulse, checking for spinal injuries, putting pressure on his open wounds

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and placing him in the recovery position (once we established his back was not broken). I wish at this point in my story I could give some miraculous, positive outcome but unfortunately Laos does not have ambulances, or any real kind of emergency medical aid, therefore the limp body of the injured man ended up underneath the bus with our luggage and the last we saw of him was at the next bus station where he was carted off in a tuk tuk to god only knows where. Every time I am stuck in a traffic jam because of construction back here in Canada I think twice about my reaction and remember how great it is to have paved roads!

One of the other major differences that I encountered in my travels was bathrooms. Yes, that’s right I am about to talk about using the toilet! I don’t think I even thought about what to expect for bathrooms before leaving on my adventure but as a female you definitely think about it the minute you have your first encounter. Now I must say I wasn’t exactly expecting a world of luxury in Thailand and Laos but little did I know that toilet paper, toilets and running water were hard to find. My most memorable toilet experience definitely took place on the train from Bangkok Thailand to Chiang Mai. We soon found out upon settling in our bunk beds for the

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15 hour journey that the bathroom consisted of a hole in the metal floor of the train and a bar that was attached to the side of the train that you could hang onto in case of “train turbulence”. When looking into the hole (expecting to see some sort of sewage system) I realized that there was nothing but train tracks below.

No need to explain this further, but as a female who appreciates the simple sanitary things in western living was definitely thrown for a loop! I must admit though that by the end of the trip I was more than comfortable with “popping a squat” just about anywhere.

Lastly, but most definitely not the least was all the food experiences.

I love food and have been blessed throughout my life to have had many different kinds of food but there is really nothing better than experiencing the food of a particular culture while submerged in the country itself. Some of my most memorable travel moments involved food. A few of my favourite food moments were eating Pad Thai on the busy streets of Bangkok, trying fried fish, dumplings and noodle soups in the alleyways of Luang PraBang Laos, and learning all about the fresh spices

and herbs that are used in the rich and flavourful curries of Thailand at an organic farm.

Taking a cooking class in any place that I travel will now be a mandatory undertaking.

I learnt not only how to make the food but also where the ingredients come from and how they are grown. Cooking is an amazing experience and has so much more value than simply making food. It can be a soulful, educated experience that is different all over the world. Food to me will never just be a means of survival but rather a social, tasteful, educative experience.

This is the start of my travel life and I know that there will be years more of memories and fascinating experiences. I can only be thankful that I was raised in a way that embraces travel and all of its wonders. I know that my journey will be on going and I look forward to my next adventure.

PHOTOSET BY AMY FISHER

BOLIVIAN SALT FLATS

BOLIVIAN SALT FLATS PHOTOSET BY AMY FISHER

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BOLIVIAN SALT FLATS PHOTOSET BY AMY FISHER

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BOLIVIAN SALT FLATS PHOTOSET BY AMY FISHER

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BOLIVIAN SALT FLATS PHOTOSET BY AMY FISHER

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BOLIVIAN SALT FLATS PHOTOSET BY AMY FISHER

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HOW NOT TO GET SLAPPED OR SLAP OTHERS IN SOUTH KOREA! A lesson plan about avoiding the ever awkward social faux-pas, by English teacher Ashley Lockyer.

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“And then, she slapped me across the face!”

When you enter a new culture you’re bound to meet the dreaded faux pas: acts that translate negatively to people in that country. This isn’t a one way street where wily foreigners wreak havoc on the social norms of the culture they are visiting; this is a two-way blind corner, where unsuspecting foreigners can be t-boned by awkward moments as well.

Believe me, I know. Spend a year in Korea and you will too.

A group of us spent a year teaching in South Korea, causing and becoming victims of many collisions with Korean culture.

In all cases, no one was right or wrong, and we came home fresh with “OMG WTF?!?” stories for your enjoyment.

Consider them your crash course in Korean culture, straight from a teacher’s mouth no less.

Lesson one: The question “Why?” My boyfriend said it best: “Take that question, and put it in your passport until you leave.” Sound advice, because In Korea ‘Why” is strangely offensive and gets you nowhere.

Explanation: when someone with more experience than you (relative to their perspective) tells you something, you are obliged to accept it as absolute fact. This is especially apparent in the work environment, where instead of seeing it as the western need for clarification, it’s seen as the questioning of someone’s motives or character. The kids I taught used it in place of “how could you?” - “Aww

homework? Teacher whyyyyy?”

Lesson two: No means no!

Another common work faux pas most foreigners make in Korea is saying no. Not only is it offensive, like little Johnny refusing to clean his room, it too questions authority. Say no to no. I was so confused for months at work. Longer term teachers (higher up in their minds) would try to dump their work on me, but saying ‘no’ never worked. I tried different pitches, making a song

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of it, even dancing a “no” samba, yet they just smiled awkwardly, broke eye-contact, and asked again “Will you do this crap-ton of work that’s not yours?” Again, I tried “no” which was almost always followed by them saying “OK, I’ll leave it here” and dashing out the door.

Explanation: according to my Korean friends, in a work environment you always accept work from higher-ups.

It’s disgraceful and childish to say “no,” regardless of the circumstance. It is, however, ok to accept work and just not do it. This sentence alone will explain all you need to know about Korean businesses.

Lesson Three: smoking is hazardous to your health Here’s a lighter tale, of my lady friend being backhanded by a grandmother. Outside of a department store, midday, lovely weather, my friend lit up her smoke to enjoy all of its cancerous marvels. She paused and

Ajjimas: scary enough to be a popular Halloween costume contemplated if she liked Coke or Pepsi best, and then it happened. A smack, worthy of a KAPOW or SHAZAM, nearly knocked her over. Still dizzy, my friend looked over in horror at the grandmother glaring at her.

Explanation: women who smoke outside are associated with prostitutes. Women do smoke there, but there are designated areas in coffee shops where it is more acceptable. Sadly, anywhere else, you deserve the pimp-hand.

Lesson Four: Chicken or beef?

Here’s a strange faux pas: being vegetarian. Now, Buddhism has

influence over most of Asia, Korea included. However, Korean Buddhists eat meat. Even after communicating clearly, in Korean “no meat, I’m vegetarian” or “meat WILL kill me and leave me bleeding on your floor” my veg-friends were always served some meat.

Explanation: after the Korean War, Korea became very wealthy very fast.

Before then, meat was like gold, and many people never ate it. Now it’s as if they’re trying to catch up on their consumption. Everyone eats meat because they have it - one should be grateful. When you say “I don’t eat meat” they assume you mean “only a little please, I’m on a diet” or “I

even if you knew why, would it make a difference?

only don’t eat pig, so fish, chicken, or anything else is OK.” Koreans aren’t big fans of picky eaters of any kind, they think you should appreciate the food you’re given.

Lesson Five: hands to yourself Grandma!

Now as a very visibly different person living in Korea, one would expect some leniency or at least guidance from locals into the Korean lifestyle: not so much. Learning only comes from experiencing the awkward moments here, so things will happen to you long before they are explained. Just as foreigners offend Koreans without intention, some westerns often find themselves infuriated and not knowing how it happened.

The first thing Koreans do that doesn’t translate well with westerners is pushing. Now before you say “suck it up, it’s crazy overpopulated, there’s bound to be pushing,” hear me out.

This is two-handed, full contact, you’re-in-my-way shoving. Bumping in a crowd always happens, but on a sidewalk with only two people, prepare for a good full-contact round of rugby. To foreigners this comes off in an aggressive “I want to fight you” kind of way. In Korea though, it simply means “You were in my way, so I moved you.”

This act is mostly perpetrated by the

dreaded ajjimas, a name once used to describe a familiar old married woman, has now become the word used to describe middle-aged women who aren’t afraid of bustin’ a hip to bust your ass. Disregarding their love of pushing, pinching, and screaming at you for no reason, these women are bold fighters strong in body and mind.

My friends were once being hassled by an irate drunken man outside a corner store. With a roll of her eyes, an ajjima came out, picked up a plastic chair over her head, and began beating the man with it: all without losing her dentures.

Explanation: This older generation of Korean women have lived through the tragedy and fighting of war. They became hardened warriors, fighting just for survival for a long period of time. These women are the feistiest I’ve ever come across.

Lesson Six: Nice to meet you, what’s your annual salary?

Here’s another fun faux pas Koreans make when meeting foreigners: asking for way too much information. When meeting new people for the first time, I was shocked at what they wanted to know about me. “Where do you live (exactly)?” “How much money do you make?” “How many children will you and your boyfriend have?” “Are you getting married soon?” Now, my boyfriend and I have been together for

a long time, so these questions were hilarious. For a new couple though awkward.

Explanation: koreans need to be able to classify you in their minds, to determine compatibility and your position relative to them, so they know how to treat you. A lot of the younger generation don’t think of it this way, but are just used to the normal social questions of their culture.

Lesson Seven: Claustrophobic Awkwardness Here are two fun ones together: personal space and awkward silences. These two very important western social laws don’t exist in Korean society. Personal space is so important in our culture that studies have been able to show that getting too close to a stranger can quickly erupt into violence. In Korea, you’re lucky if when someone stands beside you, they’re not touching you.

Explanation: Korea is a small country with a big population. Overcrowding is the norm here, so rules of personal space would create sidewalk wars.

As for awkward silences, this is a special social difference. Many times Koreans would come and talk to me, finish, and just stand there, silent. I would grow more

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and more awkward, attempt to make conversation, give a hundred social cues I wasn’t comfortable, and they would be standing there contented.

Explanation: I don’t know if there really is one, other than Koreans don’t think silence is uncomfortable, kind of how westerners feel among close friends.

Lesson Eight: I didn’t know my face needed saving Here is a pervasive cultural difference between westerners and Asians from all eastern countries: the dreaded “saving face.” Much as it sounds, face-saving is a cultural practice that involves making sure

a person who does something wrong doesn’t look bad. On the contrary, this one can really make foreigners feel very negatively towards the person saving their face.

For instance, our schedules at work put an “R” beside classes we taught reading and a “W” beside class we

taught writing: it made sense. One day, a coworker of mine was pulled aside “Jack, you’re supposed to be teaching writing to this class, and you’ve been teaching reading.” ‘Jack’ then pulled out the schedule to show her it was her scheduling mistake, at which point saving face came into play. My boss simply replied “Oh Jack, ‘R’ stands for

writing with this class.” As Jack tried to explain the ridiculousness of her statement, another manager, desperate to save my boss’ face, cut him off: “Jack, I can see how’d you’d get that confused.” Jack knew they were both lying and worse passing the blame onto him. He was ready to schedule himself a flight out of there.

Explanation: in eastern Asia, saving-face is a means to prevent embarrassment, which is an almost unbearable emotion there. People at the top of the hierarchy need to do this in order to maintain others confidence. Lying or passing blame often occurs, but to people in that culture it’s viewed neutrally. Everyone knows who was wrong, so why point it out, especially to someone of higher respect? To westerners though, when someone blatantly lies to your face and then passes their blame forward, that calls for a beating, and often trust is highly damaged.

Lesson Nine: Getting down to work.

Another workplace difference for foreigners living in Korea is the standard “no news is good news” treatment. Not to say this never happens in western culture, but it is much less frequent.

At my work, my boss would only ever tell me all the things, petty or important, I was doing wrong. Some days it seemed that she would spend hours trying to find anything to complain to me about. One day she even told me my number “6” didn’t look enough like a “6.” Truly, I thought I was on the verge of a pink-slip as I hadn’t heard anything good about my work, um, ever! Eventually I confided in my manager and she said I was a good teacher and that she just never thought to say anything if I was doing well.

Cultural rules aren't the only things that translate poorly sometimes

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Sadly, she never thought of it again after that either.

Explanation: the difference here between the corporate no-news treatment in western business and here is that, in Korea, bosses often feel they have the task of maintaining the respect (or fear) of their employees. If you don’t think you’re close to being fired, your boss sucks.

Lesson ten: Potty Mouths Let’s end on a high-note of the hilarity of teaching Korean children English: swearing. These kids use more English curse words than they use, well, English! As a teacher, it’s incredibly frustrating when 10 year olds are dropping F-bombs and when you kick them out, the managers pull you aside to explain why it’s OK. Explanation: Korean curse words don’t have the same roughness as English ones. They just aren’t as bad-ass. Actually, they are commonly used between friends and show bonding. Korean parents, who demand respect, don’t hear them, but if little Joe calls Annie a biznitch, what’s a word among friends? Trying to teach kids, who use “bad words” every day that they can’t use them in English is almost impossible.

One kid came back from a trip to the USA where he had got his whole family kicked out of the cab for giving the middle-finger to the cabbie. He was confused, “but teacher I only “F*cked him,” he said in front of the class. “Well Johnny,” I replied, “I hope that’s not true.”

As you can see, understanding what day-to-day actions can cause an old woman to beat you or a foreigner to spontaneously combust are important for both the traveler and the inhabitants of the country you visit.

Understanding is a virtue in a world of differences, where even a small gesture can get you kicked out of a cab or a simple “why?” can serve up a pink-slip. Read up before you leave, but count on sometimes shouting, in the immortal words of my good friend, “Is this real life? Did that really just happen?!”

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Don't say "no" or they'll taekwon-do!

WHY HAVEN’T I HEARD OF...

Vaing Vieng, Laos.

Drugs, drinking and inner tubes, northern Laos has them all. Midway between the capital Vientienne and the world famous French colony of Luang Prabang lies a small village on a small river in a small scenic valley which is coincidentally (or is it ironically?) home of some of the biggest parties in Asia: Vaing Vieng.

Bars, lounges and restaurants offer lay down seating, greasy food and non-stop re-runs of all your favourite shows. You practically pick the location based on what shows they specialize in: “no, I think I would rather eat at the Simpsons place, the Family guy bar didn’t have good food and the Friends restaurant was packed.” At this point you may be asking yourself, who in their right mind are they trying to attract with this type of dining experience, hung

over backpackers?

Ding Ding Ding, tell them what they’ve won Johnny!

It’s as if god himself created a town specifically catered to those with and those striving to get - hangovers.

Nothing seems to operate before noon, bottles of tiger whiskey retail for two dollars American and of course you can catch re-runs of all your favourite shows while you sit on a makeshift couch all day.

Make no mistake that these establishments are doing just fine.

They are more so the omega to the alpha in this case, or to be more concise, the result of the main attraction instead of being the main attraction themselves. These avant garde eateries are made possible by the

glorious pastime of river tubing.

That’s right, for a few dollars you get an inner tube and a ride a few miles upriver, this is no lazy day on the river though, it is Hunter S. Thompson meets Jacques Cousteau.

I had been tubing before in North America and it was dandy; friends, fun and sun...as well as a few beers that may have been snuck in there as well. Vaing Vieng however, took this relaxing afternoon pastime and gave it a rock star makeover.

We left via tuk tuk for the launch point twenty minutes from town down a muddy road at ten in the morning.

The limestone monoliths and sheer mountains were an inspiring backdrop to what was perhaps the strangest pub crawl I have ever been on.

The launch pad was little more than a sandy shore on the swollen river.

The previous day’s flooding left the water a muddy brown minefield of half submerged trees and rapids.

Caution was the name of the game though because the waters were much higher than normal, often it took two hours to float the course back to town, for us it would take hardly twenty minutes. Fearing nothing, or perhaps not realizing the dangers of mixing alcohol and swimming, my fellow aspiring tubists and I trusted in the inner tubes and set forth on the daunting journey for the first bar.

Exactly ten seconds later, we arrived as soon as we got there the party was bumping. Spring break in Cancun bumping!

I jumped into the fray of swaying bodies in the dance pit, swung from the thirty foot high trapeze into the chocolate hued river, watched some mud wrestling of the female persuasion and had a beverage or two on the bamboo patio. I checked my watch, half an hour had passed.

Everyone was concerned because someone had supposedly drowned the day before in the river; it was the conversation of choice. Don’t worry though, I spent a week ‘researching’ this rumour on the river and it turns out people say it every day.

We were going at such a pace riding our tubes on the river that the bars had to employ local children to throw ropes out to reel us in, lest we float past without being able to drop a few dollars at their bar. An army of Laotian boys fishing for tourists greeted us at bar number two: they were hauling westerners in faster than a sale at Wal-Mart would.

The unlucky travellers missed the lifeline thrown to them and were doomed to show up early at the next bar and wait until the hordes tired of their current location and decided to catch up. occasionally one of the small boys would jump into the river and pursue them aggressively, if

“LAOTIAN BOYS FISHING FOR TOURISTS GREETED US AT BAR NUMBER TWO: THEY WERE HAULING WESTERNERS IN FASTER THAN A SALE AT WAL-MART WOULD”

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they caught up they would swim them to shore down river and lead them back to the bar through the woods; I have never felt someone wanted my patronage more or would go to such a length to get it (marketing students take note).

Every bar had a gimmick, two large zip lines were strung over a straight section of the river at this one: if you hung on till the end you would be stopped suddenly and do a full back flip just from the momentum. The so called “big bar” complete with soccer pitch, high dive and volleyball court as well as a slide in progress. The fourth bar had dual swings, the fifth bar was up high on stilts, the sixth bar had a deck that hung over the river and the last bar had a large cliff swing. Every niche was filled.

As I was carried quickly down river chatting with an Irishman I was informed that many varieties of drugs were also available at these bars. If you asked for the happy menu everything from mushrooms to opium was on hand and ready for consumption: explaining both what all those little plastic baggies I kept seeing were full of and why my friend felt ‘funny’ after sharing a milkshake with a stranger.

As night time approached, the drug fuelled party raged on. The enormous trapeze that was also a fixture at the

sixth bar was incredible fun while drunk: and even more so while naked (let’s just say I lost a bet, it’s easier that way). Not wanting to return home, the number of tubists was climbing by the minute. Normally the load was dispersed by half the crowd setting sail for the last bar, but many decided to stay due to the closure of the seventh bar, the floods had damaged it. More and more tubists arrived until there was standing room only.

It truly was a tropical paradise, the sun was setting and lending the immense cliff faces a deep purple hue, the tropical jungle and rice paddies harmoniously melted into the dark of night and we were enjoying it all from the balcony of a the rivers most popular dance club. I sat on the beach, being entertained by the swooping jumps of the trapeze, sipping my beer and generally enjoying being too drunk to stand.

The bamboo structure seemed so beautiful and vibrant that I just couldn’t look away from it. I kept counting people entering the bar, like a line of ants to the nest they were entering with ferocious speed. I was enjoying life and for some reason felt at one with the universe at that point, this was either nirvana I had entered or I had mistaken my drink for one of the happy variety.

The creaking and groaning of the

bamboo became apparent to me even in my inebriated state. People on the beach were growing cautious of the strength of the structure. Our concerns were justified when one section of the crowd started jumping furiously to the music. At first it was a small swaying sensation, and then a small cracking noise and all of a sudden two dozen people were in the river. Part of the deck had given way and in true Laotian fashion an army of children took to the river and hauled the drunks to shore, no safety tape was put up, no sign of caution erected: the people working there acted as if it was business as usual.

Well after dark, and a few hours of sitting on the shoreline, my ziplock money bag was empty of Kip and my belly was full of beer. It was finally time to go home. I sat in my tube and drifted back into town barely able to move. I remember having a brief conversation with a girl from Perth, Australia about how when we grew up we would have been upside down to each other - a testament to my mental state at that point. Someone, likely another child, helped me out of my tube and sent me on my way; I believe I even entertained an offer for a job at a local bar that evening.

But the next morning was a different story.

I felt awful...Worse than awful.

I felt the ravages of a brutal hangover in the sticky heat of my fanless room.

I spent the next morning at one of those great restaurants I mentioned earlier: For some reason I bet they are still doing fine these days.

the bamboo bar, just before collapse

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LOCAL KNOWLEDGE

Talking rugby, beach life and sports with Auckland, New Zealand native Jeffrey Lee.

Quick Jeffrey, tell me something about Auckland nobody would know. *Laughs* Let’s see, I think it’s one of the world’s largest cities. *Me staring at him wondering if he knows there are just over a million people there* Not population, by size... well land area I guess. The city is huge and one of the biggest in the world by area. The sprawl is a big problem in Auckland.

I see, and why don’t we let our readers know what brought you to New Zealand in the first place?

I was born here, and liked it so much I stayed. There is a bit of a drain going on though, a lot of young people are moving to Australia these days, better money, more jobs. I would like to see more people stay because New Zealand is under rated in this part of the world, everyone seems to go to Australia.

I’ll take your word for it. Before we get into the hard stuff though, I did a little research before the interview (thank you Wikipedia) and it seems Auckland is called the city of sails, why?

Oh! That’s an easy one, everyone sails.

LOCAL KNOWLEDGE

AUCKLAND, NZ

Everyone?

Yes, everyone and their dog has a boat or a slip down at the marina; it’s something stupid like one in four families has a yacht. The conditions are just really good for sailing and we all love to go outside and enjoy it. There are probably a hundred yacht clubs in Auckland alone and I think there might be the largest one in the world too.

Wikipedia is saying it’s the largest in the southern hemisphere, don’t you love the internet allowing me to call you out on facts about your own city?

Well you know what I mean, sailing is very popular here. That’s the point I am trying to get across. I’d say it might be the third most popular sport after rugby and cricket. We’ve taken a few America’s cup races. We’re sort of mad for all sports here really.

Alright, how about a new tack for this question then, what do you call someone from Auckland? An Aucklander? An Aucklandite?

Well if you’re from Auckland, you are called an Aucklander, but we are called a lot of things. On the south island they often refer to us as J.A.F.A.’s, there’s something Wikipedia can’t tell you.

Oh really? Hold on, how do you spell that? J-A-F-A? * starts looking it up* *Laughs* shut up, it stands for Just Another F*cking Aucklander bro. Kinda crude, but there are comparatively a lot of people from Auckland in New Zealand and we take the piss for that.

You take the piss huh? Gross, could you perhaps tell our readers where you take it?

Ugh, *sighs* you never stop joking do you?

No note really, Ahem, let’s delve a little deeper into the city I guess, if you had only one day to spend in Auckland what would you do?

Finally a good question, I would probably spend it outside. I live in Long bay, which is a suburb, so if I took you around we’d go downtown so you could see

AND

“I WAS BORN HERE, D LIKED IT SO MUCH I STAYED”

Auckland From The Water. Photo: Creative Commons flickr.com/photos/eguidetravel/2922259123/

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the Sky tower, tourists love that thing. Then we’d boogie out to Piha for the day. It’s a great beach and has this huge rock, lion rock, in the middle of the beach you can climb up, it’s really awesome and there is great surfing and boogie boarding. It’s super popular in the summer, real sweet! We’d have a barbeque with some fresh prawns, a few burgers done right- you guys always skip the beetroot and egg on em.

Egg on a burger?

Yessssss, there’s nothing better than fried egg and some beetroot on there, it’s sweet as! It beats the hell out of tomato sauce.

You mean ketchup?

Whatever it’s called. Anyways, after the beach, we could head home and head to the discos in Takapuna, downtown’s one hell of a cab ride for me. But if you really wanted a good time, we would go into K’ road, there are millions of bars there. Or for something lower key we could go to Kilala down in Mission bay for a few rounds of karaoke, you might say my Louis Armstrong makes me a local legend there.

If it was during rugby season we could always catch a match if there’s one on, Ruggers (rugby) is sort of our national past time, we could catch the super 14’s but you’ve gotta see the all blacks if you can. It would be hard to get a ticket but bro, you see them doing the Haka, it’s really something special. Eden park is a great place to watch games. Everyone wears their all-blacks jerseys and the place is absolutely humming. The (rugby) World Cup is here next September and it is going to be unbelievable.

Rugby and the beach, not a bad day at all.

Well there’s more than that to do if you had more time. There’s a bungee platform on the Auckland Bridge which is pretty popular with tourists and the coast to coast walk is really nice as well.

Wouldn’t that take a while?

No, only a few hours, Auckland is on an isthmus, it’s really narrow and you can walk from the Tasman (sea) side to the Pacific side in a few hours, it takes you through the downtown, there are informative signs, and a bunch of other sites to see along the way, pretty nifty. *laughs* You laugh a lot, is Auckland a happy city?

It’s an awesome place to live. Amazing atmosphere, lots of sun and everyone really enjoys being active and outside.

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What would you say to our readers to convince them to come?

It’s better than OZ, and our beer is way better too, plus the girls are prettier and the tap water tastes like candy, so come here!

Does the tap water really taste like candy? *laughs* Well no, I got carried away a bit there, but I think if you come and enjoy just a pint or two of Steinlager you would probably be convinced to stay. Especially on Fridays, we often have a few drinks during lunch at work and no work really gets done in the afternoon anywhere. It’s like having a long weekend every week.

Now you’re talking, where do I sign up?

Why am I not surprised that it was that comment that got you interested?

REVIEWS “On The Road” by Jack Kerouac

On a crisp, clear night on the back of a flatbed truck, a drunken Sal Paradise watches the stars as he whizzes toward Denver- he has never felt more complete. His journey started with 50 dollars and a promise from a friend of a job on a ship in the pacific. Enticed by the offer, he sets off for the west coast and, typical of all the backpackers I know, blows half of his money within the first day’s journey from New York to Chicago. Not a good start financially, but a terrific start if you are looking to write one of the finest examples of travel writing the world has ever seen.

Written in 1951 in three weeks on one continuous scroll of paper, On the Road chronicles the beat generation of mid century America in all its gritty glory and still rings true to travellers today. He hitchhikes, meets a zany cast of characters, works as farm labour, and faces the trials of love on the road.

Perhaps I relate well to the novel because of my own experiences hitchhiking and working on farms to pay my way (mind you, I thought it was far from the paradise he described) but I think all travelers can share the overpowering rush you get from throwing caution into the wind and following your heart down a path you never thought you would.

This story is based on true events, which is good, because some of the situations that Sal (Kerouac) finds himself in are simply too bizarre to make up. My three personal favourite moments: Sal receiving an offer to have sex with his friend’s wife while he watches, his friend dean going on a Grand Theft Auto style carjacking binge, and he and three others driving naked down the highway in Texas.

Sigh, what happens on the road, stays on the road, unless you write a famous book about it I guess.

Photo: Creative Commons flickr.com/photos/earlycj5/3866943174/

Although slow to start, it quickly turns into travel porn; nothing has ever made me lust for an adventure as strongly as this book. A cross country journey for a job becomes a years-long saga that that see’s Sal and his counterpart Dean pinball from New York to San Francisco and finally to Mexico City. And aside from the debauchery, this story has heart as well. I’ll divulge one particularly touching moment with you, Sal, on top of a mountain in Mexico sees a local village girl and speculates that she may never see another part of the world than the small mountain she calls home. If this were a movie Sal, likely being played by Shia Lebeouf, would look forlornly off into the setting sun, a montage of memories playing with sad music as he contemplates his lifestyle and the man it has sculpted him into. It’s not a movie though because if that were the case I would have watched the film and reviewed it instead (reading is so last year) and as such, he basically just keeps on truckin, wasting no more than a sentence or two on the tear jerking stuff.

Sentimental moment: check! Now what was I saying about debauchery?

The details like the fact that Sal eats almost nothing but apple pie due to it being cheap and filling (the rice rule I call it), the fact that he shamelessly pursues and beds an unhealthy amount of women in a variety of fun places and the fact that he is incredibly awkward when trying to score drugs all gave me that oh-so-nice, warm cup of soup on a cold day feeling you get when you just straight up understand someone on a deep, deep level.

The side trip to Mexico, which is coincidentally the crescendo of the novel also hit a high note with me. In the fading pages of the novel Kerouac is thigh deep in teenage prostitutes and on a two day bender so epic he could likely have out-drank the entire cast of The Jersey Shore.

There is a lesson to all this though; amidst the shocking events and uproar you see the thinking of a new generation emerging. Kerouac was searching for a simpler life, he was forgoing possessions for experiences and was looking for that same thing every traveler is: where the road will lead them.

Dean, however, was clearly just looking for tail, going through four wives and fathering three children in the three year span of the novel. There’s one in every bunch.

TRAVELLER PROFILE

...andrew caley

Bio / I am a 23-year-old Canadian journalism student and I have recently come back from my first backpacking adventure in South America. I love sports, reading, and now travelling.

Where are you from / Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, Canada.

Favorite Travel Memory / This was my first trip so I loved everything, the beaches, the mountains, the deserts, the culture and most of all the people.

Best tip for picking up on the road / Be yourself, learn some suave Spanish phrases and in some cases a well placed moustache doesn’t hurt.

What do you look for in a hostel / Try to find a hostel with good common areas, you'll meet more people that way...oh, and a bar.

Countries visited / Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia.

TRAVELLER PROFILE

ANDREW CALEY

Craziest travel memory / Traveling to Machu Picchu by car just days after torrential rain, which included landslides, crossing a river in a basket-and-pulley system, and about 10 more hours of walking than we were told... much like in your last issue.

Worst bus ride / Haha there are more than a few to choose from, but the worst has got to be when two of my friends and I journeyed from Quito to Canoa, Ecuador.

The first thing I noticed when I got on the bus was that it was leaking directly above me and my friend in the row across from me. To go along with the leaks there was no A/C, which wouldn’t have too bad if the windows had opened. Then some locals with young babies sat down next to us…babies with what smelled like very full diapers. Anyone who has travelled by bus in South America know that they love to play the most annoying salsa type music all through the night and this bus was no different.

To top this all off the smelly, cramped, loud, sauna of a bus arrived at our stop at 4:30 in the morning. My friend and I gave each other a quick shake of the head and stayed on the bus. After a short spat with the money collector which ended with us handing over another $5 US and we got off at the next “legitimate” bus station where we were able to catch a bus to our destination, we didn’t change locations for almost three weeks after that.

Travel is _______ / Something everyone should try.

Next trip / Thailand in 2012, school until then.

I would not leave home without / A good hoodie and some gravol.

The thing I miss most about the road / Being with the great friends I made along the way. Shout-outs to Sam, Gordo, Andy, and Billy. You guys rock.

What made me want to travel in the first place / I’ve always wanted to travel since I was young and with the help of a friend to get me out the door I never looked back.

THANKS FOR READING

next issue coming st wednesday dec. 1 on rovemag.com