I am now wrapping up a month in Laos in its capital city Vientiane on my balcony on the top floor of Saysouly Guest House. It’s an hour before midnight. It’s a T-shirt wearing evening and mosquitoes are buzzing around me no doubt trying to get a bit of my fermented blood to be right and ready for New Years cheers.

I was at a nice three story bar ran an by a nice German guy down the street from me over an hour ago but lost my seat when a Lao prostitute (I think) took my seat when I went to the toilet to talk to an older western man. I had asked the large Afrikaan who was escorting an elderly white woman around to watch my chair when I was in the toilet but the tiny devil Lao woman was so fast she was in my seat before I could even finish my request. I have no idea what was going on with the Afrikaan and the old woman. I’m sure it would have been a good story though.

My last entry I was in Phuket writing about my upcoming writing. That entry feels like a lifetime ago. Since then I spent a month in Chiang Mai reading books, writing reviews, and drinking with local Thai musicians with broken English sharing a bottle of rum and talking about western music.

I took a bus to the Laos border followed by a slow boat ride down the Mekong River in Laos to Pak Beng, then another day of slow boat ride to Luang Prabang where I spent 3 weeks, made friends with the local expats and met many truly good souls at the Hungarian run Icon Klub (now in Lonely Planet). I met two lovely Austrian girls in Luang Prabang and then moved onto Vieng Vang where I met up again with said Austrian girls for buckets of gin and tonics by the fire. Nothing romantic here, just good times with kind fellow travellers.

All my local or traveller friends in Luang Prabang warned me about Vang Vieng. They all said it was horrendous. Well, they were right for the most part. During the day it had its own beauty and charm, then, at night, the horrible, horrible youth came out.

At 4pm, when monks are usually doing their banging of bells and drums to keep away the evil spirits, out of the inner-tubing rivers crawled wasted 18+ year old Australian and other backpackers ready to unleash themselves on the town and try and mate with any female (…?) in their blurry vision radius. It’s truly terrifying to witness but I lived to write about it.

In Vang Vieng you can buy openly at a cafe a marijuana pizza and wash it down with an opium shake. Then if you want to really relax you can sip a magic mushroom tee. (Not recommended don’t do that). Then you can veg out and watch your choice of Friends or Family guy at any number of places.

Leaving my two Austrian friends behind, I got out of there on my fourth day. The place made me feel old and out of place.

After 4 hours of Tokyo drifting through rocky loose gravelled roads, crammed shoulder to shoulder with 10 Germans and two very hungover Brits, I’ve successfully escaped Vang Vieng and arrived in Laos dilapidated capital city.

Vientiane takes some getting used to. I would say it’s the Reno (minus gambling) to Vietnam’s Hanoi. Today I thoroughly explored the area for hours with my backpack and iPod and came to the conclusion that anything worth seeing or doing is in a two block radius of where I am staying. There isn’t much but it’s all you need.

I have to wait until Monday for the Chinese Embassy to open so that I can apply for my visa there. I plan on going up to Yunnan province just above Laos, explore there, then fly to a few key cities in China up to Shanghai, cross into Korea, then Japan, then to Los Angeles, do a road trip around that country, then head into Mexico and South American and eventually back to Australia. If I can’t get my china visa then I have to go a weird Malaysian route or go up over India and take an even crazier way. I will eventually end up back in Melbourne, but there’s no rush.

Well it’s 30 minutes to midnight. That wraps up another year. I’m tired. I could sleep right now. I’ll stick it out.

More to come.

I’m overlooking lush green plants and trees with dried up coconut husks strewn about and see a rooster chasing a chicken and her chicks abusively for as far as I can tell for no apparent reason. I can’t really speak Thai yet so I can’t figure out what the dispute is about. I’ve been staring at them for about an hour now trying to better understand the strange dichotomy between hen and rootser. I’m wondering if may not because the Jane Goodall of fowl by the time I’m finished with my travelling.

The air smells of campfire, which I’ve found most of south east Asia smells like, due to a pile of dead leaves and debris that burn safely in the distance. There are two small lizards minding their own along the walls and down my walkway I see a giant centipede going about his/her (Both? Lady-boypede?) daily business. I’ve been here 12 days now and have been struggling to break the blog silence and get the creative juices flowing once again, which I’m struggling but am determined to do. My goal is to post every day using this blog as a note receptacle that I will then use to compile into a book that I am going to print via some dirt cheap Asian printer, and then self publish via my laptop through my soon to be established “Nobody Likes my Publishing”.

I have five books slated (In my mind):

1. My Cambodia, Loas, Vietnam, Singapore trip which is mostly written but needs to be typed up, reorganised, and edited.
2. My travels through Thailand and wherever else I go for the next 6 months.
3. A road trip I am going to do in May around the US.
4. A collection of short stories based off my dreams.
5. A book about my 4 years living in Australia

These will take a lot of time and effort on my part but we all need a hobby. This one’s mine.

This is a video made for donations for the recent floods here in Queensland. My work in the Valley at the bottom of the hill of Robinson Street miraculously escaped ruin.

1. I forgot my password to the blog.

2. SO MUCH TO PROCESS!

3. Because of #2 I said to hell with it and I’m going to write a book about it. Seriously , too many stories and experiences to blog about and my journal, laptop, camera, and facebook posts have been enough note taking along with a constant stream of ideas to make an indie self published travel ‘How To’ book that I can’t pass up.

A small example would be my last 24 hour experience going from Lao Cai to Hanoi via a hellish overnight train  in a very very very compressed form if you know me well enough:

Summery of the past 24 hrs: 8pm – A topless Asian woman breast feeds whilst her 8 other family members stare at me in silence. 2am – Her baby spews breast milk everywhere getting a little on my backpack. 4am – I’m stretching outside my cabin when a woman comes out of her cabin and pukes in front of me. 12 to 3 pm lost and wandering Hanoi. 2pm a woman in a pyramid hat is squatting next to a tree peeing. 4pm a few $2 G/Ts at Le Pub. 6pm nap due to running on 3 hours sleep. 8pm G/T’s  alone at hotel bar listening to really cheesy piano covers of 70’s TV shows and Chariots of Fire.

Another abbreviated excerpt of the coming epic travel book ‘Nobody Likes An American – Cambodia – Laos – Vietnam’:

Rookie things to learn in Hanoi or any major Asian city of its kind really.

1. Nobody is trying to be nice to you. Everyone is trying to make some money off of you. It’s not necessarily malicious, it’s just survival.
2. If someone comes up to admire your shoes, or point out something about your shoes, don’t assume they are being nice or are really interested in the make or brand of your shoes. They will have a bag or a box with them and they will want to charge you for them to shine them with things that will likely make them more dirty. They’re not cute. They’re not your new friends.
3. If a polite girl comes up to you and tells you that she is a student learning English, and tries to start up a conversation with you asking where you are from, etc. She will then either pull out necklaces, bracelet, or more likely a red cross card asking for money. When you say no her face will likely change with a scowl and she will never speak to you again. She won’t be your pen pal, she won’t be your facebook buddy, and she’s gone to the next tourist.
4. The price of the camera you are flaunting around your neck could feed them and pay their rent for two months. Keep it secure, but don’t act like every moving thing is going to rip it off your neck and then kill you for it. Respect it, put it to good use, there is lots to see and shoot (with the camera only please), but don’t rub it in their faces. Ask permission for certain shots, but don’t pay any money for them, just be respectful.
5. If a woman carrying a stick on her shoulders with two evenly distributed scales of fruit tries to put it on your shoulders and put her hat on your head and offer to take a picture of you, she is not being cute or friendly. She wants to get a dollar off of you. If that shot is worth a dollar to you, fine, it would make a good facebook post or a homemade postcard for your friends and family. Just know, she wants money.

So there you have it. It might sound grim but it’s going to be a lot of laughs, tears, and heaps of very practical information for any tourist but particularly American tourist. I’m not neglecting this blog. I’m just over absorbed with cultural and real life literary intake.

It’s going to take a while, but be patient. The good stuff is coming.

Nickolas – NLAA

Cambodia: Explored several temples, dunked my feet in a vat full of fish for a massage, was the family photographer for a Buddhist funeral and was then invited to drink beer and traditional Khmer food with the community.

Laos (Luang Prabang): By far my favourite so far. Quiet French Indochina, timid but friendly people, me being horrible at haggling prices in shops, a kid trying to sell me cocaine, opium, and pot that is actually just swamp weed, and finally riding an elephant down the Makong River whilst drinking a beer.

Vietnam (Hanoi): Is pretty full on and has taken me some time to adjust but I’m settling in. I take a night train tonight to Sapa which is out in the boonies of Northern Vietnam.

I’ve written a lot. There’s so much to write about. When I get back to Melbourne I’ll do it properly. I think I’ll write a book about it all.

All in all, amazing trip. Great for the mind. Laos has so far been my favourite.

Monday Entry (So really 2 days until I take off)

I slept maybe at max one hour of light sweating sleep Sunday night. It was very hot in my Tudor style room in St Kilda and my mind has been racing thinking about a million different things, particularly my trip coming up. I finally fell asleep to the pitter patter of rain outside my window only to be awoken by my alarm clock 15 minutes later at 6am.

I’m up in Brisbane this week for work and Friday morning I’m flying out to Singapore and then to Siem Reap Cambodia to begin my solo adventure of my lifetime into the beautiful hell furnace of South East Asia. With all the rain in Melbourne it took the taxi (honk honk 132 227) an hour to get to me. That’s one hour of me standing out in the rain holding an umbrella trying to stay awake.

Finally a very friendly Sikh in a taxi pulled up like a champion and got me to the airport in record time by taking the roads that other taxi drivers avoid so as to bolster their fair. It’s like I’ve always said, “If you find yourself in a stink….find yourself a Sikh!” (I’ve never actually said this) But seriously, Sikhs are some of the noblest of people and should always be paid respect, which brings me to the image to your left…. Dont EVER cross a Sikh!

So I get to the airport and the ticket I had booked was actually for the day before. I had no flight so I after trekking back and forth across the airport I finally found a cheap Jetstar flight to Brissy for $200 that was leaving only 45 minutes after the one I thought I had booked. This isn’t the first time this has happened to me. My last Tasmania trip I missed BOTH flights do to my own retardation.

I’ve found as I get older and my anxiety over the years has begun to take a toll on me, that flying has become a terrifying experience for me. I have flown probably 100’s of times since I was young no problem and perhaps it’s the whole “realising your mortality” thing you hit when you reach a certain age, but now I’m a wreck at the slightest bump.

Do you see this picture of Jetstar seating? Yeah, well I don’t know what mythical alternate 1st class world this plane came from but I couldn’t even cross my legs. Still, they got me there safe so for that I’m grateful.

Despite Jetstar having a cheap reputation and the plane sounding like a toy as it takes off, I’ve always has the smoothest ride with them. Even though I have twice the legroom on Virgin Blue, their planes and pilots scare the hell out of me and after my last flight into Hobart where I reached the point of complete helpless terror, I’ve never been the same since.

I met up with one of my flatmates who was up for a work conference at “Tempo” on Brunswick Street in the Valley (he didn’t know any better he’s from Perth) which is one of countless dodgy TAB pokie (push button slot machines) and betting pubs throughout Queensland (and Australia) that generally only tradies (what Americans would know as blue collar tradesman such as dry wallers or painters) lurk in mid-day knocking back schooner after schooner (schooner is 425 ml or 15 fl oz of beer popular in Queensland) of XXXX.

Tonight I had really wanted to continue catching up on Asian assimilation by watching such classic films such as Apocalypse Now, Platoon, Full Metal Jacket, and Good Morning Vietnam however I didn’t have these available to me in my apartment (Miro) here in the Valley so I decided instead to buy an “Asian Beer Collection” at the drive through bottle shop down the street to help ease me into the various flavours of “The East”.

I had my Lonely Planet guide to Laos with me and the guy working behind the counter asked me “You going to Laos?” and then proceeded to tell me all about the areas he visited. Some people can be pretty unassuming, particularly in Queensland, and Joe Bottlo here was an example. He had been all over the area and gave me a few friendly tips such as don’t get killed and don’t go to the hospitals if someone fails at killing you.

The beers were a bit of a joke being that I will in all likelihood not come across them where I am going. Tiger, Tsingtao, Chang, and Sapporo. They were gimmicky and probably not very relevant being that I wasn’t going to China, Japan, or Thailand, but we’ll see. I plan on doing a full expose on the beers in the area and bring a much needed and detailed report to you. The Reader.

By the way Reader. If that’s your REAL name. This entry cost me $20. Enjoy it.

I watched the documentaries that were readily available to me at the time via Netflix such as Crocodile Dundee I, II, and II, Mad Max 1, 2, 3 (most Australians I know haven’t watched this one yet), Muriel’s Wedding, Danny Deckchair, Gallipoli, and Crocodile Hunter: The Movie.

Last night I endeavoured to do the same thing to prepare me for my trip to Vietnam by watching a fascinating expose of an ex-military American Special Forces soldier by the name of John Rambo who was sent back to Vietnam in 1985 to try and find POW’s who the military had written off as dead.

The landscape was extremely beautiful just as I was hoping for, but I must say I’m starting to wonder what I’m getting myself into. A friend of mine in the US had seen this film as well and wished me luck and hoped that I met a “hot commando girl” like John did in the film, even though it sort of turned out to be a Greek tragedy in what happened in the end. I don’t want to give away anything in this truly classic piece of cinema (which was the second of a four part series apparently) but if my experience is anything like Mr Rambo’s, it will go something like this:

HCG (Hot Commando Girl): “Nick why you come to Vietnam?”

Me: “Because I’m expendable”

HCG: “What mean… expendable?”

Me: “It’s like… someone… invites you to a party, and you don’t show up; doesn’t really matter.”

HCG: “Nick….you not expendable. I go Australia with you?”

Me: “…Yeah”

But then she gets SHOT which totally sucks and I blow stuff up and fight giant Russians and stuff.

Just like it says in Lonely Planet!

     -    Dropkick Murphy’s

I had a hard year. Multiple projects at work. 2 trips to the hospital due to anxiety related issues. A couple friends died. And a whole other slew of what African Americans (People of colour?) call “white people problems”.

I’ve had a strong desire to get back into some kind of creative mode. I have ideas of books I’ll never write, lamps I want to make, music I want to record, and paintings I want to paint. It can’t ever be completely suppressed. One of my latest infatuations has been eggs benedict and I was thinking of doing another blog where I seek out and try to find the best in Melbourne, then turning it into a book and get rich and quit my job. Genius!

So anyway I was at work thinking of where to go for a holiday. I thought about going to Vanuatu, Fiji, and New Caledonia. Mapped it out and got costs but found out it’s monsoon season there and New Caledonia, although beautiful and with French topless models laying along the beach, is quite expensive. I’m planning on going to Europe in a year so I didn’t want this trip to be over pricey.

Vietnam kept coming up which is a very popular travel destination for Australians.  The American in me grew up with war movies and like the majority of Americans, think Vietnam is dangerous and scary place where you’ll step on a homemade landmine and get your legs blown off. Well this is 2011 ladies and gents and Vietnam is actually an amazingly beautiful and accommodating place to go to and I’m going to prove it.

So although Flight Centre (main travel agent in Australia) has not fully booked everything, my plan is to go to Cambodia to see the temples at Angkor Wat, go tubing down a river in Laos that has basically been turned into a wet bar for tourists, sleep on an old Junk (traditional Vietnamese sail boat) on Halong Bay, and sleep in a hut-like eco-lodge place in Sapa which is in Northern Vietnam and is supposed to be an amazing quiet and peaceful landscape.

Adventure, relaxation, tranquillity, and a means to put some life back into this shitty blog.

Just what the doctor ordered.

I think I had better break my silence with this special day. 3 years ago today I was at the Belgium Beer Garden on St Kilda Road here in Melbourne where some people made fun of me for being an American. I didn’t really get the Australian sense of humour at the time and perhaps…PERHAPS….took it a little too personally. Regardless I then walked to work and created this blog and I’m sticking to it.

So for a catch up over the past few months…

2 trips back to California, many weeks in Brisbane for work one time doing a 5 week stint, 2 more hospital visits (one in Brisbane) due to anxiety issues, a trip to cold Tasmania where I drove around the North part of the island acting like a fool, I won at AFL tipping, the Prime Minster got stabbed in the back and kicked out by his ranga (what they call redheads here) right hand, the ranga then because Australia’s first female temporary PM, there was an election that had a hung parliament which nobody seemed to understand here, the ranga won, and then there was a 7.1 earthquake in New Zealand. I think that pretty much covers it.

A few weeks ago I was going to write an entry called “The Joy of Writing” where I was going to talk about the blog and how the purpose of it was to write about the differences between the US and Australia. The more and more time went by the less and less American I became though and Australia became my home. I love it here. I’m staying. Sorry Australia. But it is a lot harder to be motivated to write when nothing is new or surprising anymore. I have book load full of notes from trips I’ve taken here but my perfectionism combined with procrastination has prevented me from actually doing this. Maybe I can use this anniversary as a spring board to get me remotivated.

I did start a blog called The Parma Blog about me and co-workers who have “Parma Thursday” each week. Parma’s, or Chicken Parmigiana is a chicken schnitzel with Napoli sauce (marinara in American), ham, and cheese on it. It’s not the healthiest meal in the world but a very popular pub food I had never had prior to moving here.

So there you have it. I broke my lazy streak. I’m back….sort of.

I still do random bloggins here as well.

That wasn’t nearly as painful as I thought it’d be. Now here’s a picture of a kitten.

Well Australia is kind of a joke at the Winter Olympics since it joined it in 1935 being that there isn’t much snow here, but there we are all the same. It has only won 3 gold medals, 2 Silvers (second one was this year by Dale Begg-Smith for Men’s moguls), and 3 bronze. Whatever, Australia owns swimming in the Summer Olympics.

Medal	Name	Games	Sport	Event
3 Bronze	Bradbury, Steven	1994 Lillehammer	Short track speed skating	Men’s 5,000 metre relay
3 Bronze	Steggall, Zali	1998 Nagano	Alpine skiing	Women’s slalom
1 Gold	Bradbury, Steven	2002 Salt Lake City	Short track speed skating	Men’s 1,000 metres
1 Gold	Camplin, Alisa	2002 Salt Lake City	Freestyle skiing	Women’s aerials
1 Gold	Begg-Smith, Dale	2006 Turin	Freestyle skiing	Men’s moguls
3 Bronze	Camplin, Alisa	2006 Turin	Freestyle skiing	Women’s aerials
2 Silver	Begg-Smith, Dale	2010 Vancouver	Freestyle skiing	Men’s moguls

The Gold medal I want to talk about today is the famous one won by Steven Bradbury back at the 2002 Salt Lake City Olympics. This story and video is hilarious and Steven is a true example for Australians everywhere. The guy shouldn’t have even qualified and yet he won gold.

Enjoy.