Kerinci Kitty Cat Hunt (Kerinci NP - Sumatra, Indonesia)

For a revised version of this post, go here.

I made the eight hour drive back to Kersik Tua, a village inside Kerinci National Park. As usual I missed a turn and drove a good forty-five minutes out of my way. I did get to see a rather stark example of the 'Oops!' and 'Oh shit!' principle (see below). That is what I call a bad day. To be honest I am surprised there is not a similar scene on every corner.

Along the way I stopped for a bite to eat at a small restaurant. They do not get a lot of my kind in the area. A female employee approached my table, sat down across from me, and began snapping photos on her camera phone while speaking to a friend standing nearby. When she finished she got up and walked away. She never spoke a word to me. Zoo animals of the world I emphasize.

I arrived at my previous lodging of two weeks ago and met with my jungle guide (the intrepid E.En) soon thereafter. It was then that I learned that he had planned a five day jaunt into the forest, not three. Five days in the jungle? Sure, why not?

There were two Hungarian birdwatchers staying at my guesthouse. Two Hungarian birders. Two birdmen from Hungary. No real relevance I just like the phrasing. I’ve noticed that for the most part birders are not the most exciting people on the planet. I’m all for birds. Protect them. Watch them. Hump them if you like but I guess I would have trouble spending five days in the bush waiting for a distant Tweety-tweeterson to start chirping in hopes of a fleeting glimpse. Eagles, owls, Birds of Paradise in New Guinea I can get excited about but I still don’t know if I have the patience to wait around hoping one will beguile me. I respect the patience and mental fortitude required for the enterprise but I'm just not there yet.

Dhaka & Didion (Dhaka, Bangladesh)

Jan 12th, 2010 - Can I be frank? Dhaka is not the nicest city I’ve ever visited. Not really the place for a pied-a-terre.  To be perfectly honest the words ‘hell’ and hole’ come to mind when summing up my experience so far. Too harsh? Perhaps, but I feel I should highlight the ‘walk a mile in a man’s shoes’ adage.  Pack 13 million people into a fairly small area and see what happens. Too many people. Too many vehicles. Too much refuse in the street. Sprinkle a layer of dust over everything, apply chaos theory, and you have the makings of a charming Asian city. At least it’s flat. Still, getting from one area of the city to the next is a nightmarish mix of vertigo and asphyxiation, at least from the viewpoint of a CNG (autorickshaw). My advice: Find an area with everything you need within walking distance and settle. Want to blend in? Forget it, at least if you are a 6’4’’ white guy with a long head.

Folks (as in men, women, and children) are constantly hacking and spitting with such intensity that I sometimes mistake the sound for that of a jetliner during takeoff.  Not a real surprise considering all the crap floating in the air. It is unavoidable. Trust me I know.  But they do not screw around. It happens everywhere (streets, restaurants, public places, etc) and is often so pronounced that you think folks are attempting to be funny. The other a day a gentleman, while staring me directly in the eye as I passed, scrounged up a monster in his mouth, swished it around a bit, and then pelted the ground to his side. Up until he let loose he never broke eye contact. I honestly believed he was about to spit on me. I am fairly easy going but that would have most likely provoked a negative response from me. It may have taken physical form.  Luckily, for both of us, expectorating is such a normal part of everyone’s life here it is often done unconsciously. In this instance it was merely combined with the usual ‘foreigner gawking’ that is such a part of my everyday experience.

If you want to escape the crowds good luck. That goes for pretty much the whole country. Imagine if half the population of America moved to Iowa or if all the folks in France and Germany decided to head for the United Kingdom. And when you consider that B’desh is basically just one giant floodplain with endless networks of rivers and streams you realize real estate is tight. If not for the people being so friendly I think I would have giddy-upped on outta here right after the Sundarbans. 

Third Person (Sauraha, Chitwan National Park, Nepal)

Feb 27^th, 2010 - Rich arose at 5:45, gathered his belongings, and headed off to the bus depot near Thamel in Kathmandu. Destination: Sauraha, on the outskirts of Chitwan National Park. His expectations for this trip were not particular high as his impression of the area was that of a touristy zoo-like wonderland. However, tigers (the viewing of which has recently taken on the form of an obsession for our protagonist) can be found within its boundaries so he thought he would give it a shot. Rhinos also abound and since he'd never seen one in the flesh he found the possibility of making one's acquaintance intriguing.

The bus journey was a less than auspicious beginning as the traffic was jammed due in no small part to the narrow mountain roads and the presence of more than one overturned vehicle. Vehicles were at a standstill at many points along the way. He knew this to be part and parcel of travel in this country but it was still a bit trying as a six hour journey turned into eight. He sometimes finds internal screaming cathartic. This time was no exception.

When he arrived he was greeted by a friend of a friend he'd befriended in Kathmandu. The man's name was Raju and came highly recommended by Rich's contact in Kat. He was assured that Raju was a decent bloke and was not looking to cash in on tourist dollars, only to meet and befriend new and interesting people. 

Chandu the Great (Chitwan National Park, Nepal)

March 2^nd, 2010 - The morning of our foray into the jungle I had the privilege of meeting Chandu's grandfather (At least I think it was his grandfather. Sometimes relational terms are used a bit loosely as is the case with 'brother' and 'cousin'). I was told he was 101 years of age and, in his heyday, one of the few intrepid souls to ride a wild rhino. Ride a rhino? When I was little I tried to ride a St. Bernard so I know where this guy is coming from. Apparently, the best time for a rhino rodeo is when they are bathing in a lake or stream as this creates an acceptable level of lethargy and diminished reaction time. Ride a rhino on land? That would be stupid. You could say this guy has been around. When I asked for a picture he was more than happy to pose.

So into Chitwan National Park we went led by my seasoned guide (Chandu) and his trusty assistant (Denis). The first leg of our journey required a canoe trip down the river that forms a natural boundary to the park. We arrived riverside around 8 am and attained the services of a local boatman. One of my favorite things about the park and surrounding countryside is the mist that blankets the area in the morning during this time of year. It makes for a mystical scene, as if one is venturing into a primordial forest full of strange and wonderful beasts. What lurks beyond that mist? Danger? Intrigue? A steaming pile of tiger shit?

Wild by Nature (Chitwan National Park, Nepal)

March 4^th, 2010 - The next morning I arose to the misty wonderland that is such an enchanting feature of the early morning landscape. I am sure Chandu felt exactly as he looked, which is to say shitty. While Denis was off at his home preparing our lunch for the day my expedition leader was supposed to take me for breakfast at the local food stall where he'd inebriated himself the previous afternoon. I have a sneaky suspicion that his failure to do so was related to his lack of funds and the probable debt he'd incurred the day before. What he did do was to ask for a bit of cash to pay for my night's lodging and meals. He said that it would be better for him to pay as they may demand more from me being a tourist and all. Nothing out of the ordinary there. What I learned after our trip (assuming Denis himself was being straight with me) was that Chandouchbag pocketed the money and never paid Denis and his family for the meals. I was an unwitting pawn in the deception.

When we set out for the misty riverbank to hop a dugout canoe to the other side Chandu appeared to be as excited for another jungle run as I am when I purchase deodorant. Sloshed Chandu is much more jovial than hungover Chandu. Once again we entered the cloud forest in search of exotic fauna. Once again we visited places of rhino frequency only to be flabbergasted at their absence. The fact that local villagers were cleaning a small lake (as in removing floating debris in order to make fishing easier……I think) where the pachyderms like to frolic did nothing to aid our efforts. A stop at a wooden watchtower yielded no better results but, again, the misty backdrop was so spellbinding that I hardly cared. We moved on.