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I will probably go up and give them a hug.  For those of you that don’t know what I am talking about, expat is short for expatriate, which is a person who resides in a country other than the one that they hail from.  We have met people from the US, UK, Hungary, Russia, Greece, Malaysia, Australia, Germany and more.  Siem Reap in particular has quite a few and overall Cambodia seems to have a particularly large number of them here.

Many are many have left home to start NGOs or work for NGOs.  Others have arrived to start a bar or restaurant in an exotic place.  In the end the majority of them, it seems, have chosen this life because they are looking for a little adventure and more simple life.  As of now, we have not met a single one that had anything less than a terrific attitude.

In Siem Reap we met Mac and Trixie, some true hippies from Britain that now reside in SR running a bar they opened called The Funky Monkey.  We have now adopted one of their monkeys and he will be traveling around the world with us. Their bar in SR has the walls pasted with old magazine cutouts and trinkets and record album covers from all over the world.  Their vocabulary is sprinkled with the word "groovy" in just about every sentence they conjure up, and well placed I might add.

So what is a true hippie? As quoted in Wikipedia, "Hippies opposed political and social orthodoxy, choosing a gentle and nondoctrinaire ideology that favored peace, love, and personal freedom, perhaps best epitomized by The Beatles‘ song "All You Need is Love". I am talking about those few who really live to have a wonderful time and follow their dreams. They are not like the hippies of today sporting dread locks while rambling on about how open minded they are (even though many of them are more on the stuck than your average businessman).  Quite simply Mac and Trixie are just open minded, giving and full of zest for life.  Any beers or food we had at their bar was generally on the house.  We did not go more than a few moments without them introducing us to more of their friends that might be able to help us out on our journey.  A couple of late nights with Mac and I ended up nothing short of good ideas for things to do with my life. He certainly is a good source of info on how to be happy, as I don’t think that I ever caught him or his self proclaimed "love of his life" Trixie not smiling.  The two of them will be happy for years to come together.

The number of friends we made in Siem Reap alone would take thousands of words just to introduce the stories of their generosity. So in the nature of keeping this blog from taking up your entire day, I will continue on to the newest and most friendly of the expats we have met recently.  

The last few nights we have spent our evenings eating at a place here in Sihanoukville called Angelo’s.  We first found this restaurant when we arrived late on Tuesday hungry while walking down the main street.  Due to the time, most of the restaurants were starting to die down, but then we smelled something enticing.  Down the street ahead of us was a place named Angelo’s with a huge BBQ out front on the street.  The smell of the BBQ had us sold, so we went inside.

Immediately we were greeted by "Jimmy the Greek" as we call him now.  We of course assumed that he was Angelo, but later learned that his brother is Angelo who now resides in California. Jimmy is the proud new owner of his brother’s establishment and is doing a fine job of running the joint. He formerly owned a place in Thailand that was destroyed by the Tsunami and now calls Cambodia home.  We ate his BBQ, which is some of the best we have had in the world.  Out of our four nights in town we will have eaten there three of them because not only is the BBQ amazing the ambiance is as well.

 With his wonderfully friendly Thai wife, her unbelievably cute puppy that runs all over the place making everyone laugh, and Jimmy’s true hospitality, I cannot remember another time on the road having such a great meal.  The pride he has for the food requires him to only serve what he can import from Phnom Pehn as the local markets are not up to his standard. Other restaurateurs could learn from the way he runs his place. Far away from home a delicious slab of the most tender ribs can always lead to a smile and a $7 price tag for a plate full of world class food is something that I can live with.

People like Jimmy, Mac, Trixie and the rest of these dreamers around the world called expats are a true inspiration.  When you have a chance, talk to the foreign owner of a restaurant down in your town or while on holiday make a point to talk to the owner of an establishment you enjoy.  All around the world you can find these interesting people and they are always ready to tell you a story, so just sit down at their bar and give them a few minutes, or probably more like a few hours.  Hats off to all of you that are making your dreams into realities with your unique establishments around the world. I will listen to your stories anytime.

After spending nearly two months in Australia, it was a welcome change to disembark the plane in Denpasar, Bali Indonesia. Although the flight from Darwin, Australia to Indonesia was only about two hours, these two locations are a world apart. Prices and the general cost of living differ dramatically. In Darwin, an average hostel bed costs a little over $20. In Indonesia, you can find complete private rooms for less than $3. A night out in Australia consisting of run-of-the-mill cuisine and a few drinks can cost as much as $50, but in Indonesia, you can have an excellent dinner complete with freshly caught seafood, filet mignon and a bottle of wine for as little as $10. Obviously, the prices are some of the most dramatic and apparent differences you experience, however after spending time on Bali and later Java, it is the more subtle differences that I really started to notice and reflect upon.

Coming from the West, we have the luxury of being able to splurge and live lavishly for relatively little, yet this is a life that is as foreign to many of the locals as the visitors that arrive in their country. The police officer at the airport makes about $1,000,000 Rupiah a month. Although technically he is a millionaire, this translates into only about $100 per month and most Indonesians survive on much, much less.

Indonesia is a land of friendly people, a land that is a culturally unique and diverse in its geography. It represents a land where people live a much simpler life than the one I am used to, yet appear to lead a more fulfilling one. Family is very important and community is highly valued. The simple yet peaceful existence of the rice farmer tending to his fields and carefully managing delicately crafted terraces carved into seemingly impossible slopes is a life I admire. Examples of resourcefulness can be found just about everywhere.

The irony is, just as much as I admire and respect aspects of life here in Indonesia, the locals I have spoken to admire and long for life in America. Part of this may be the desire for more economic opportunities and freedom and maybe another part is the desire to lead a life that is visibly portrayed throughout Indonesia on television. You don’t have to go far to find hit American shows like Lost and CSI complete with Indonesian subtitles. There are also several Indonesian programs modeled after those in America. Right now, Indonesian Idol is one of the most viewed and talked about shows.

As much as I wanted to move away from the life I led back in the States, there are numbers of people who want it. Obviously this is not a new revelation, but talking to people about it first-hand gives it new meaning. Seeing what life is like in other countries often makes you realize how much of your life you take for granted. At the same time, seeing how other people and cultures live also makes you question the your life values and whether or not the one you have led is the best. It is this perspective on life that you can only truly explore by exploring other cultures.

One of the things that I was really anticipating during my stay in Australia was learning more about Aboriginal culture. After coming over from New Zealand and seeing the relationship between Maori and European settlers and how it has evolved into mostly a fair and mutually respectful arrangement, I was curious to see how the relationship between the indigenous Aborigines and European settlers measured up in Australia.

Getting a clear and complete picture of that relationship has proven to be quite difficult. Unlike New Zealand, where Maori have settled and established themselves as members of most communities and openly promote and celebrate their history and culture, Australian cities are for the most part void of Aborigines aside from the occasional street performer. Upon learning that the vast majority of Aborigines live in the outback and in the Northern Territory (where they represent over 30% of the total population), I was eager to try and learn more when we arrived and hopefully set up a story including some interviews similar to the ones we conducted with various Maori in New Zealand.

Unfortunately, I found that Aborigines are vary wary of outsiders coming into their communities, especially those with camera in hand. I guess this is understandable and most likely a result of being exploited and misrepresented countless times in the past. As a result, simply getting access to Aboriginal land requires permits. Getting these access permits is a fairly straight forward process, however, actually getting into a community and speaking with people and capturing it on film requires a significant amount of time and preparation. Community leaders and elders must authorize the visit and the final media product must conform to certain requirements that have been established for all commercial productions.  

Knowing that gaining access to these communities might take some time, we sent several requests to various Aboriginal groups and we placed several calls in advance. Unfortunately, we must not have appealed to the powers that be because all of our attempts to contact or obtain suggestions for people and places to visit went unanswered. There were a few schools that we attempted to arrange meetings who were receptive but unfortunately, the timing of our expedition did not allow us to visit them either.

Disappointed but not dismayed, we hoped that once we did arrive here in the Northern Territory, a story might pan out or we might meet someone who would be willing to teach us more about Aboriginal life in Australia. Upon arriving in Alice Springs and subsequently traveling through towns in the Northern Territory such as Tennant Creek and Katherine, we did encounter many Aborigines, however, what we saw was shocking and upsetting. Although there are some Aborigines who come into the towns to sell their unique and beautiful paintings and crafts on the street, many of the Aborigines we came across were loud, unpleasant, visibly disheveled and intoxicated. It was a sad sight, especially in Katherine.  Alcohol and alcoholism is enough of problem among Aborigines that it is completely banned in many communities and even a crime in some areas for outsiders to provide it to them. Personally, I have never really seen anything like it. Back in the States, the stereotype of the drunken Native American exists, but it exists on a whole new level over here.

Very confused as to the condition of the numerous Aborigines we were seeing in town streets throughout the NT, we asked some locals if they could shed some light on what we were seeing. We learned that unfortunately, for most tourists, travelers and foreigners, their only exposure to Aborigines is either in the form of a guided, packaged tour, or in the form of the Aborigines who congregate in the streets of the towns… the later being a very visible population of Aborigines yet only representing a minute percentage overall. Unfortunately, those Aborigines who have become addicted to alcohol, drugs, violence, etc. have been ostracized from their own communities and thus forced to search for a means to feed their addictions and to survive on their own in the towns. Most foreigners, or even Australians for that matter, don’t get a chance to see Aborigines in their communities, where they live in peace, celebrate and cherish their history and culture and still thrive in areas that are inhabitable to most others.    

After learning that what we were seeing was apparently only a very small percentage of the Aborigine population, many other questions then came to mind: What was being done to address this visible problem a) by the government, b) by the towns c) by the Aboriginal communities? Additionally, if most people are only exposed to a very negative side of Aboriginal culture, especially foreign travelers and tourists, why not try and do more to open and expose people to the positive aspects? Obviously there are some cultural elements involved that Australians, Europeans and Americans might not be able to easily grasp, but the bottom line is, there is a problem and at first glance it appears to be one that is not being adequately addressed. Maybe people feel that if the problem and those who constitute it are ignored, it will go away on its own, but history often dictates that this is far from reality. I wish I had more time here to try and explore some of these questions, time to explore the countless positive aspects Aboriginal culture has to share and learn more about what if anything is being done to address the negative ones. Unfortunately, I don’t have more time and like many others who travel through the outback and through places such as Alice Springs and Katherine, I have developed a very misleading yet vivid view of Aborigines and their place in Australian society,  a view that will be hard to forget. This is a real shame, because I know it is a far cry from the celebrated Aboriginal culture I was anticipating.

I am curious to see what other people think about this issue. I know that people in Australia are now following us on our journey and I welcome comments on this blog so that maybe I can get a better picture of modern day Aboriginal culture. I realize that our time there was short and I may have only seen a glimpse, so it would be nice to have some more information to fill in the gaps even though we have already left Australia.

As an inexperienced traveler, joining up with two crazy men driving around the world is like diving in head first. It seems that in this kind of environment where places come and go so fast, there is almost no time to think about how the traveling is effecting you. After checking back into a clean air conditioned hostel in Darwin fresh out of the outback, I had a moment to think and some of the effects of this journey became clear.

Back home in beautiful Denver Colorado every night I fall soundly asleep in a bed of crisp white sheets with a ridiculous thread count. There are more than eight pillows of varying firmness, an egg crate, feather bed and a big soft down comforter. Cleaning is a part of the everyday routine of life in my single apartment, no dust bunnies allowed. This little piece of heaven that is home has taken many years to perfect. Before joining the World by Road I made the decision to keep this apartment as home. Knowing that this cozy space would be waiting for me when I returned was very important for my sanity… My how things can change.

There were many reasons to join this wild road trip, but one of the biggest was to experience something new-something beyond cozy white sheets. The east coast of Australia is not much different from the standards I held back in Colorado. We stayed in posh rooms set to an American standard of luxury. When camping, the grounds were organized with showers and lights. However, the day the trucks turned into the outback it was clear we were driving away from the clean, tourist oriented and expensive coast of Australia toward a whole new kind of envoirnment.

The second night in the outback changed my life forever. The team ended up in a town called Middleton after the sun had gone down. This "town" consisted of one house. This house is a home, a pub, a truck stop, and a gas station. The family that lives in this multi purpose seemingly run down building shares their space with more bugs than I have ever seen in one place. The lights of the porch illuminated spider webs as high as the roof full of crickets, mozzies, flies and many other insects I can’t even classify. Turning the corner of the house in route to the ladies "bathroom", I had to stop and catch my breath. The little outdoor bathroom was best described by Jimmy as walking into the movie Arachinphobia. At this point, my very first panic attack seemed immenent and I decided it best to go back into the house and have a beer. Walking back inside I heard the words Hilton. What!? The friendly looking old man behind the dirty counter informed me it was across the street.  Relieved I headed outside and soon found that my idea of a Hilton was much different than what lay in front of me. As I walked back inside the crew was laughing at my haste to go visit the hotel. The Hilton was actually a wide open dirt field next to where the cattle are kept. It had a proper sign nailed to a barn that was open on all sides and covered in hay.

The team began to set up the tents in the vast open darkness, where only small patch of the red soil was illuminated by the headlights of the trucks. I pulled out the pillows from the back of the car, opened my sleeping bag, 3 inch thick sleeping pads, and all of the cozy pieces of camping gear I could find. While I was making the bed, which is far too comfortable to find in a tent, it occurred to me that this tent set in a beautiful field of red dirt was better than any Hilton. Instead of finding comfort in silly expensive sheets, I find the same feeling when I zip up the door and keep all the bugs out of my bed. I get to wake up every morning and look outside to find myself in a new and beautiful place.

Waking up to the Australian outback is an experience few are privileged to have, and I will never forget. The scary little house of spiders was much different that morning. The red dirt was rich in the sun light and it was apparent that the little old white house I feared the night before was well loved and full of history.

I often wonder what it must be like for the Steves to have no home. When I would talk with them about the trip before this all began, the idea of being on the road for two years seemed so rootless. The idea of fitting all the things you need into the bed of a truck sounded like crazy talk. That night in Middleton showed me that they have a home here. Their tent is their room, they are their own little family, and the world is their apartment.

I have heard so many people talk about the value of traveling. Before joining this expedition, I equated traveling to vacationing. What I realize now is if you get out there into the world and stay in a clean white bed like you left at home, there is no challenge. If I wasn’t in a tent that night in the middle of that dusty vast, next to a corral, knee deep in spider city I may never have been enlightened to the difference. When I return home I will not pitch a tent in the middle of my apartment as a physical protest to my bed. Instead, I will crawl into my clean white sheets with a new appreciation for home and fall asleep constructing imaginary routes of where I plan to travel next.

One of the first questions out of new acquaintances mouths while in the southern hemisphere has been "Where are you from?" This seemingly simple question is usually answered with "America." Those who want to get to know me better or can not think of another small talk follow-up question will continue with where in America? Beaming with state pride I answer "Wisconsin" with that hard "o" vowel enunciation that only those who hail from Wisconsin can successfully achieve. My smile usually dims at this point as the person on the other side of the conversation usually nods or says "oh" full of incomprehension barely hidden in their facial features. With the addendum of two hours north of Chicago, the blank expression quickly clears up and we carry on with our conversation.

Our team currently contains representatives from the states of Wisconsin, California, Colorado, and Oregon, yet we are all classed as "Americans." The cultural variation within the United States of America is something that many people treasure under the auspices of state pride. This is not possible while abroad when most people are unaware of the locations and cultural identity of these states.

"Are you German? Are you Norwegian?" are questions that have also been demanded of me. Perhaps these people were not fond of asking the primary question of "Where are you from?" and decided to jump directly into conclusions. Although their profiling is partially accurate since I have some German and Norwegian ancestry, these assumptions also demonstrate that Americans do not look one particular way. As soon as I open my mouth, my accent clears away any doubt.

As a friendly person, I am regularly initiating conversation. Good or bad it makes things interesting. One specific conversation included a kid from Denmark ridiculing Americans for their stupidity and weight. He asked where I was from and I said Wisconsin (blank stare) near Chicago. Internally I began to boil and rage about his ignorance of the fair state of Wisconsin. Upon a deep breath I reflected upon my knowledge of Denmark. The only knowledge I have of his country is the capital city of Copenhagen and vague knowledge of their royalty. So how could I begin to take offense?

We will have to be conscious of this in our travels. As the old saying goes about assumptions…better to smile and give the other person the benefit of the doubt. It will only help!