Holly, Hannah, Jack and cheap booze

They were kissing and some drunk people were taking photos.

Brian and I were in Bucket Bar - the only bar with more than 10 people at it. I'd guess there may have even been 100 people here.

If you hadn't already guessed from the name of the place - drinks were served in buckets. Perhaps a good indication of the attitude towards drinking here... the more the better. The bar offered free whiskey shots on arrival and then 20,000KIP for a bucket of whiskey and coke. 20,000 KIP is like... a dollar.

We didn't need whiskey, but figured in the spirit of things.. why not?

Brian carried our bucket through the crowds of messy, drunken tourists - each of them so inebriated that they are completely unaware of (or just don't care) how messy and drunken they look. I followed and we settled down on one of the less-busy 'platforms' that were scattered around this open-air bar. You're meant to take your shoes off and sit down, so we did.

We watched people dancing and commentated on how amusing they look. It's pretty funny really. It made me wonder how peculiar I must look when I'm dancing. I like dancing though... I don't want to think about how weird I must look.

Oh, yes those two kissers. So they're sitting on the platform next to us. Two girls - one of them super skinny and one of them rather stocky. The skinny one is mega boozed and notices us sitting alone. 'Oh god... don't come over' I pray.

"Hi what's your name?" She asks in an English accent, putting out her hand.

Shaking it, I say "Pamela".

I introduce Brian too and she seems thrilled to meet us.

Her name is Holly "like holiday but without the day". Ah... I wasn't sure.

We chatted for a while until a song she liked came on. She squealed and jumped up and said she'd be back soon.

I turned back to Brian who was just being approached by bar staff guy offering another free shot. Seriously? They were giving this stuff away like water...it must have been pretty damn awful. We declined his kind offer (with nasty hangover in mind) but he poured some into our half-full bucket anyway.

He can't have been any older than 20. He was skinny, strikingly blonde and very tall with a piercing on his lip about 1/3 of the way along it.

"How long you worked here?" I asked.
"As long as I lived here." He said.

Ohhhhhh kay. Obvious next question...

"How long you lived here?" I asked.
"Bout 2 months. And then before that I was in Vientiene for 10 months." He said.
"Doing what?"
"Living. And I plan to stay here for 10 years."

Cool. I tried to get a bit more out of him but other than his name (Jack), he turned out to be completely boring. He had no intention of doing anything here other than live and drink and work in a bar. Each to their own... but trust me... Vang Vieng would not be my living place of choice for TEN years with an ambition like that.

I must apologise because I have a poor recollection of the order of events that followed, eventually leading to the four of us (Holly, Hannah, Brian and myself) hanging out in Han and Holly's bungalow til 2 in the morning and then having them walk Brian and I to our respective accommodations after ordering tuna baguettes from a sidewalk vendor (not the safest food choice at that hour). I wish the story got more exciting here... but it doesn't. There was no overly exciting drug abuse or authoritative intervention or drunken debauchery... sadly.

I nodded 'hey' to the two cockroaches I shared a house with, curled up on my bed and dozed off to the increasingly loudening choir of crickets and roosters.

"The mark of an immature man is that he wants to die nobly for a cause, while the mark of a mature man is that he wants to live humbly for one." (From Catcher in the Rye).

Playing by the river

This pretty much sums up my time in Vang Vieng.

We read books. We slept. We swam.

Oh and we hired bikes and visited a lagoon. There was no-one else there except these two young boys. One of them had a mask on and would stick his head underwater and walk/swim around until he found something. When he found something, he would jump up and down and yell and make a big noise. He would then emerge with a small fish in hand and throw it up the cliff to his friend/brother waiting on the grass. The fish was always thrown too far and would land with a 'THUD'. The other boy would run to it, pick it up and add it to their stringed collection.

Brian and I were fascinated.

Hunting for fish.

Showing us their kill

Vang Vieng is...

• Pancake and fruit-shake stalls
• Restaurants playing reruns of Friends, The Simpsons and Family Guy
• Opium, mushrooms and marijuana
• 'Tubing'
• Internet Cafes
  
• Travel and tourism companies
• Construction
  

5 and a half hours

So 5 and a half hours in a small mini-van along treacherous windy roads lined with steep cliffs is not my idea of an enjoyable way to spend the day. Nevertheless it had to be done I suppose and I have my iPod to thank for 3 things:

1. Keeping me entertained for 5 and a half hours
2. Keeping my mind off throwing up for 5 and a half hours
and 3. Drowning out the sound of the driver's wife throwing up 5 and a half times along the way.

The only good thing to come of the trip is meeting Brian, this pretty low-key guy from Modesto (North of San Francisco) who is on a 3-week holiday from teaching English in Bangkok. When he first got in the van (in Luang Prabang) I pretty much attacked him with questions. And so he's 27 (although I didn't find this out til later) and he lives in a small apartment in Bangkok with no kitchen! He hasn't seen his family in 2 and a half years and clearly misses his 8 year old niece.

Anyhow, he was feeling pretty awful from the drive so after he had sufficiently answered my 40 questions, he curled himself up on the seat and I plugged in my headphones.

***

Arriving in Vang Vieng was not what I expected. Although I couldn't describe what I was expecting.

It's much smaller than Luang Prabang. The streets aren't as well kept, the roads not as wide.

first impressions of Vang Vieng

Goodbye Luang Prabang

I'm feeling much better today. Nathan, Kim and the school kids left at 5am and I didn't set an alarm for myself. I woke feeling pretty well rested at 7:30am.

It feels strange knowing I have the entire day to myself.

The temperature in the mornings is quite bearable. Nice even. But by midday the sweat starts beading on my chest and back which is quite... Gross.

I spend the day roaming the streets.

I stop at JoMa, a delicious bakery, for lunch. Afterwards, I check out Ock Pop Tok, a sustainable community development project that also aims to advance the cultural, social and artistic development of Lao artisans and their traditions. It was started by an English photographer named Jo. I want to speak with her, but she is busy with someone else for the whole (very long) time that I wait around.

In the evening I meet with Graham and Bua for a beer on the river and then delicious pizza for dinner at the Scandanavian Bakery.

I'm leaving in the morning. I can't help emphasising how impressed I've been with Luang Prabang, the Seuang River Project, Graham and Bua and everything in general. It's been so incredible, I'm even a bit nervous for the next part of my trip as the standards have been set pretty high...

Smiling happy faces

Cultural Inadequacy

"The wisest man that ever was, when asked what he knew, replied that the one thing he did know was that he knew nothing."

They spoke in that horrible London accent that you hear in the movies. They smoked 3 cigarettes indoors, ate messily with their hands, burped, kicked the cat and drank beer. They were pudgy, stocky and shouted at the restaurant owners.

There is a term used to describe these people but I forget what it is. I was thinking of Chav, but no - I don't think that's it. They remind me more of those soccer hooligans who don't even look like they should be associated with soccer.

Anyhow, I talked to them because we were the only people in the restaurant and I was eating alone.

Maybe they were actually really lovely people deep down. Somewhere. But on first impressions I found them near unbearable. I was embarrassed to be speaking with them. They disliked everything about South East Asia and were not afraid to let it be known to all.

I really don't like foreigners who enter a new country and demand to have everything their way, in their language and to their customs.

Thanks to my philosophy book I found consolation from Montaigne:

"Every man calls barbarous anything he is not accustomed to; we have no other criterion of truth or right-reason than the example and form of the opinions and customs of our own country. There we always find the perfect religion, the perfect polity, the most developed and perfect way of doing anything!"

Homo sum, humani a me nihil alienum puto.
I am a man, nothing human is foreign to me.

"Nothing was, nothing will be, everything has reality and presence."

Aches

I can barely stand up without grimacing. My head hurts. My stomach aches. It feels as though my blood has turned to thick gluggy mud and is weighing every part of me down. I don't feel like doing anything. My body feels fat and swollen.

This sorta sucks. I'm in this seemingly exotic, foreign, exciting place with so much to explore - and the only thing I want to do is lie down in my air-conditioned room, throw-up, sleep and perhaps watch some western television... (cartoon network if I could choose).

I'm having some stomach troubles. I'll spare you the details, but I'm really not managing to hold much down. I try though. And I sleep a lot. For the past couple nights I've had at least 9 hours each night, with a couple of naps during the day.

My diet has been:

7am: thick black coffee. baguette with jam and fried egg.
12:30pm: sticky rice and meat/veges
6pm: same as above with variations on the meat and veges

The sticky rice is really sticky. When I heard that people ate rice with their hands I had pictured a very inconvenient mess of rice grains falling onto laps and spilling onto tables. It turns out the rice is so sticky that it's actually quite inconvenient to eat it with anything but your hands.

I'm in Luang Prabang now. We said goodbye to the village and are now staying in the main town. It's gorgeous here. Apart from the dustiness and the grey skies, it is a beautiful French colonial-feeling wee place. (Not that I've been to France. I am just imagining).

Things move in 'Laos' time. It's like Island time. (Not very fast). It's peaceful. There are nice bakeries and coffee shops. At night time everything is lit up with fairy lights and it feels magical.

Thankfully it's no full-moon-party-tourist-town though - everything shuts at about midnight :)

the quaint streets of Laos

and at night time

This morning we left on the 'trucks' at 7:30am, headed for the Elephant park. About half an hour of dust in my eyes and listening to 14 kids singing 'Bingo' made for a very grateful Pamela as we finally arrived at this sanctuary for elephants.

I ride with Nathan, one of the teachers. He's about 27 years old and plays saxophone (or maybe the clarinet... or maybe both... I forget). He teaches in Dubai but also gets some extra cash from playing gigs.

On the elephant ride he is hilarious. He is genuinely terrified and I laugh hysterically at his comical display of fear.

I cannot help but think of how much these elephants must have been tortured. Like literally they must have had their souls beaten out of them to be like this. So placid and unaware. Graham tells me that they never forget though. I hope for their sake that they do.

me on an elephant!

My view

****

And so I want to go for a run but there is no way. My body just will not let me. I actually just napped for an entire hour and I swear I feel worse for it.

Maybe I need to break my 'rule' and just take some Panadol already.

Death by fire

I ran again today and it was hot. My skin burned and I felt cold.

Everyone here showers outside - which is awesome - except they don't like to show their bodies. Women wear these long full sarongs (to shower in!) and the men wear shorts. They're very modest people.

Toilets are another thing-to-get-used-to here. It's definitely no Singapore Airport that's for sure. It's all squatting and what-not - and the family who's house that we're staying in is pretty wealthy so they have a really nice ceramic toilet and all. But we went to visit the high school yesterday and there are about 450 students who attend and there are no toilets for them. They just find a spot in the forest/bush/lake around the perimeter of the grounds.

It's dark right now and as I write this (in my journal) there are 3 little Lao children watching me intensely. They are so intrigued by my writing.

There are about 40 children here. We're sitting outside and there's a bonfire going. I can hear giggles, laughing, shouting, screaming - all the sounds of kids having a generally delightful time. 23 of the children are around 12 or 13 years old. They are from the Dubai American Academy (DAA) and are the school group that Graham is taking around as part of the Seuang River Project for 6 days.

The rest of the kids are between 4 and 10 and are from the local village that we are staying in.

One of the DAA kids just spotted a huge insect on the wall of one of the buildings. I know this because the scream she let out was not the scream of a child playing games, it was the scream of a child who had just spotted a bug that looked as though it could potentially endanger the lives of small children and animals. It is the size of my hand. It has grasshopper legs. It has...wings.

So naturally, screams spread pretty quickly and before long there are about 23 children yelling, screaming, running, pointing and generally just creating a big scene. And in the middle of this chaos, the smallest of the Lao children - a little 4 year old boy - walks through the screaming crowd right towards the bug on the wall. He carefully climbs onto a wooden bench, stands on his tiptoes and takes the bug into his hands.

All madness breaks loose. The DAA kids are in shock. They are screaming for their lives as though this child has just pulled the pin on a hand grenade.

The kid is so confused and I can't help but feel sorry for him. He looks around at the screaming faces and pointing fingers. Then he looks down at the bug that he is clutching in his hands. Slowly and deliberately, he clenches the bug in his right hand and then with his left - he pulls off one of the huge giant grasshopper legs and lets it fall to the ground. Then he does the same with it's other leg.

The DAA kids are still screaming. Their faces must be red and their lungs must be aching. I think my jaw drops a little with slight disbelief at what I'm seeing.

Maybe the kid thought he was saving the day by slowly murdering the insect in front of their eyes. Not so much.... so he resorts to what must be plan B.

As he walks, the crowds of children part for him. He walks to the bonfire and throws the insect in. Then he gets back to his playing as though nothing has happened.

Incredible.

I chuckle as the DAA kids continue to scream and I get back to my journal writing and entertaining my own audience with cartoon pictures and English words.

Some of the gorgeous children playing by the fire :)

The Seuang River Project

So this will be my second night here now. I'm so pleased that I came - I'm learning lots from Graham and my opinions and understanding of Poverty are changing and being shaped by my experiences.

My first impression, or observation, so far, is that the people in these villages (well, the ones we've seen so far) are happy, shy, gentle and polite. They spend their days farming, teaching, learning, playing, building and socialising. There aren't any huge drug problems. They have a river. They have farm land and forest. They have buffalo and pigs and chickens. They eat very sticky rice, vegetables, chili paste and a bit of meat. The children run around in small packs and are much smaller for their age than you would expect and I wonder why? The 8 year olds look as though they are 5. And the 5 year olds look as though they are 3.

To be honest, the first thing that glared out to me was the pollution. I asked Graham about it and he pointed out that right now they are a small population so the problem is a small one. You can see where that one is going... when the population grows, so too will the problem.

It's unbelievable. They have this 'out of sight out of mind' type psyche. They collect rubbish from their yards and homes and dump it into the river. I mean, I'm not sure what they're meant to be doing with it... perhaps that is something worth looking at. Education, obviously, being a starting point.

And so the other main issue that Graham mentioned is access to adequate health care when they need it. People don't look sick and diseased, but if they get sick and diseased then it is mega expensive for them to get help. (An ambulance to the city or whatnot).

The Seuang River Project is the name of what Graham is running here, and it's incredible. It's hugely beneficial to the communities/villages. Each day, Graham is directly employing around 20 people from the villages to do things like cook, tour guide, drive etc. The students who are here are from the Dubai American Academy and are paying a bit to be here - which goes directly to the village for their serivces (accommodation etc). The children have also brought donations (books, toys, clothes) that are to be divided up amongst a few of the schools/villages.

It is totally incredible to see the children playing together - their common language is laughter and football and nothing else seems to matter.

Miss ANNE MINETT

"Miss ANNE MINETT" read the sign that the driver was holding when I arrived in Laos.

He was cute. Probably barely old enough to drive and didn't speak a drop of English though.

We jumped into one of those ute-turned-tuk-tuk-esque-taxi vehicles that they drive here in Laos and took off. His driving was slightly more conservative than what I had experienced in Thailand, but his odometre swung violently between 0 and 160 the entire way, so I really had no idea how fast we were going (and neither did he!)

I attempted to speak with him, but he really had no idea. So I sat silently, ecstatic that I was finally in Laos if not 2 days later than planned.

I suppose I was expecting the drive to be around 10-15 minutes. Maybe 30 minutes at most. Which is why after we had been driving for more than an hour, I began to feel a little confused. I definitely wasn't nervous though. I think that the joy of finally being in Laos outweighed any concerns of where I actually ended up for the night. (!)

We're on dirt road and the drop to my left is uh.... deadly.

We stop. He rolls down his window and shouts inquiringly at this old lady on the side of the road. She is old and fat and yells back at him. They shout at each other for a while and then, disatisfied, he drives off.

I don't even know what I'm expecting. Maybe a giant building/headquarters? A big hotel? It looks unlikely. We've been following this dirt road for a very long time and have only seen dirt, river and small huts.

We pull into a village and my driver hops out and walks off. Are we here? I don't know and I don't care. I snap some photographs until my driver returns with an air of confidence that he was really lacking previously.

Back on the road.

Before long we spot a group of children on the road. They're not locals. As we get closer I spot a white guy with a wide brimmed hat. We slow down to pass.

"Graham?" I ask.

"You must be Pam - Welcome!"

He has an extremely warm, gentle manner and I feel immediately relaxed and relieved. He introduces me to his wife (I'll need to double check on the spelling of this..) Bua, who shows me to the house where I will be sleeping for the next few nights.

42USD

I have to pay for a visa to get into Laos.

And the Canadian Passport is the most expensive of all. $42USD, plus an extra $1 because it is a weekend.

Yikes.

Starbucks

Bangkok airport at 8:30am is like a shopping mall at Christmas time.

I can barely bring myself to admit this...but I'm sitting at... Starbucks.

I'm so embarrassed, in fact, that I keep glancing around nervously in case I see someone I know. It's pathetic, I'm aware of this. But my options are limited. I'm hungry and I cannot stomach the thought of minced pork rice porridge. So I sheepishly slide into Starbucks and choose a croissant and a small americano and try to be invisible amongst the obvious American tourists.

My Asian Fitness Haven

My alarm went off at 6am.

This is OK though, because I fell asleep at 7:30pm. I probably overslept.

I'm back from my run and I am shivering. It's probably about 36 degrees outside and 70% humidity. Did I drink enough water yesterday? I cannot remember. My skin is hot to touch but I am really really cold.

I take a shower. I lie down and drink about a litre of water.

The run was well worth it though - I wouldn't take it back for a second...

After running for about 15 minutes along the sidewalk of a very straight long road, I had been wondering if people here exercised. I hadn't seen any joggers or walkers. Not that I expected to - but I just wondered.

Then all of a sudden, a park came into view on my left and and no shit it looked like Central Park in the middle of summer. Walkers, joggers, people stretching, practicing yoga, Thai Chi, you name it - they were probably doing it. I veered left and entered the park. Anything to get off the road, and this clearly looked like the place to be exercising. I was grinning like a fool.

I spotted some young men coming past in running singlets and shorts. They were setting a good pace so I settled in about 10 paces or so behind them and kept up as we weaved through through this large recreational paradise.

I could even hear music playing somewhere. Wow. We need more of these in NZ! I was on this super dorky high, being surrounded by so many fitness fanatics. It was like some freaky Asian fitness haven designed just for me. Seriously. I was loving it.

And then that's when I noticed the photographer on the grass. I smiled and he snapped a photo.

Then someone overtook me and he snapped their photo too.

Another guy overtook me and being somewhat slightly competitive, I picked up the pace a little. They were going pretty hard and it annoyed me. 'Jeeeeez, it's not a race!' I thought. Just as it became glaringly obvious that it was a race. And I was smack.bang. in the middle of it.

WTF?

Who has a race event with no race numbers?

We approached a drink station. Oh what the hell.. I grabbed a cup and kept going.

I could hear cheering and the music was pretty loud now. We turned a corner and there was a long straight lined with photographers and crowds cheering.

Oh fuck.

Embarrassing? Amusing?

I couldn't decide... I was naturally leaning more towards embarrassing whilst still trying to see the funnier side of the situation.

People were photographing me. They were clapping for me. Reaching out their arms and cheering for me. How.the.fuck. did I end up here? I must have been so caught up in following those guys I didn't even notice the rest of the walkers/joggers fade away as we were clearly on the 'race track' now.

I couldn't help laughing now. So I was grinning madly, pouring with sweat, sprinting my little heart out and waving to the fully asian crowd.

Fuck, maybe I looked like a celebrity?

We turned another corner and there it was. The finish line. The finish line surrounded by media-type, officials and more runners/crowds. I couldn't bring myself to cross it.

Avoiding eye contact with anyone, I jumped over the little barrier onto the grass and sprinted off in the opposite direction. It would have looked hilarious to the people watching me. They maybe thought I got frightened or something.

I made it home in about an hour and 10 minutes and my clothes are hanging up by the air conditioning. They are drenched.

I feel a little better now.

130km/hr

I cannot be 'present' when the taxi driver is driving. I must shut my eyes. It is the only way I can endure it.

Nobody indicates. It's madness.

The car shakes at 100km/h ... so why does he drive at 130?

White.

So the place I'm staying at is 3 months old. It's called the Airport Residence and Spa (for future reference). None of the staff speak English except for the manager and even then - I'm sure she doesn't understand half of what I'm saying the way she nods and smiles so much.

I think I'm the only person here. It's nice, but.

I take a cold shower. My room is big. And cool.

I change into some shorter shorts and a smaller singlet, I drape my camera over my neck, chuck 200 Baht into my pocket and stroll down the stairs outside.

The air is suffocating. It's thick and heavy. The sky is dark grey. Rubbish lines the streets. I stand with no purpose on the sidewalk, casually glancing left and right. To my right I notice some activity so I wander over.

Looks like a night market.. I smell food and the sun is low... probably around 6pm.

I feel completely.out.of.place.

I feel strikingly and uncomfortably white. And tall.

It's like everyone is staring at me. Well it's not like they are.. they actually are. I must look ridiculous. A gigantic white skinned girl with short shorts, jandals (flip-flops), sunglasses and a huge camera. What the fuck is she doing here? There are no other tourists in sight. No other white people at all actually...

But it turns out to be somewhat amusing. They like the camera. And they like my reaction to their pigs heads and dead fish and funny children. I (nervously) photograph a small child who has fallen asleep on a table next to a display of dead fish for 20 Baht a plate. The parents(?) laugh kindly and smile. I relax (a little).

Lost in Bangkok

I'm pretty relaxed when it comes to travel.

So relaxed, in fact, that I forget to write down the name of the hotel I am staying at in Bangkok. No problem though. I have the address and about a million people or so offering me a ride. I ask a Thai girl if she speaks English (OK - I lie... Jake asks the Thai girl if she speaks English). She does - and she's a local.

"Take taxi outside. Fastest and cheapest way." She tells us.

So Jake helps me outside and into a taxi and looks somewhat concerned as I drive off in my taxi.

I'm not going to lie. I'm sorta scared. I don't recognise anything. I want to see something familiar and I feel pathetic because of this. Harden up P... you can handle this, it's not like you're in the middle of nowhere. You're in fucking Bangkok, a tourist MECCA.

So to make myself feel better I start conversation with my driver. It's hard because he understand nothing, but likes to pretend he does as he laughs and nods. So I think we're having a conversation but then soon I get blank stares. It's annoying and hard to maintain with enthusiasm.

Oh oh! I just saw a Nokia sign. It made me feel better. Safer. How peculiar...

I decide to ignore the irritating worried voice in my head and I start absorbing the sights.

Half an hour passes and so now I'm not sure what is more amusing/devastating:

1. That we have just driven for more than 30 minutes in the wrong direction.
2. That my taxi driver had to get out of the car and use a payphone to call my hotel and ask for directions
3. That we are now in standstill traffic with over 300 Baht on the metre already
   
4. Or that in our (very) broken English conversation, I still can't work out whether my taxi driver has 3 wives or 3 daughters. (Likely both).
   

Above it all

I keep thinking how strange it all is. Countries and the like.

How every country has it's own currency, culture, rules, language, customs etc. And the airports are like the gateways into these different worlds. And then how each city/country must operate as a part of the wider context (the world). OK, I know this is uber obvious... but it's still fascinating.

Flying always gives me this odd feeling of being 'above' it all. And 'seeing' the way the world is put together.

It should be compulsory for all young people to travel. As soon as they leave school they should be put into a global travel/personal development programme. Experience different cultures, customs, etc. Work in a different city. Live in a different city. Volunteer. Experience less than what they are used to. Experience more than what they are used to.

Jake

I meet Jake in Perth. (From Melbourne, we were flown to Perth and then from Perth we were flown to Singapore)

Jake is a pilot for Tiger in Singapore. Originally he's from this place just outside of Melbourne on the coast - he's a surfer. Cool.

Jake reminds me of a friend - Nick Harris - and so I instantly take a liking to him. It's funny how that happens, when someone reminds you of someone you like, you tend to like them too. Even if they just look the same! And likewise I suppose if they remind you of someone you don't like too much then that can be unfortunate.

So he's a pilot. He trained as a pilot as soon as he left high school. I can't imagine being a pilot. Already having been in transit for 48 hours or so, I just want to be grounded for a while. I look at the air hostesses and imagine what a feeling of permanent suspension/transience they must have. Are those the right words? I'm not sure. But it sure must feel weird.

Utopia in a transit lounge

I'm in Singapore. More precisely... I'm in Singapore airport. It's been 48 hours since I arrived at Melbourne airport and I've still got another 4 hours til I finally arrive in Bangkok.

It was meant to be a 9 hour flight. Thanks JetStar... for nothing.

This place is like nothing I've ever seen before, except perhaps on television or in my vision of a utopia. It is eerily calm and pleasant. Everything works. It's really as though every action and movement I'm going to make has been pre-thought of and planned out.

The bathrooms are nice. I like clean bathrooms.

The staff in this place are robotically polite. The sky-bus between terminals is timed perfectly for my arrival to the platform.

The carpet is mesmerizing. The music is meditative.

The rooftop has a pool but it costs $13.91 so I don't swim. I am hesitant to spend money. Also there are free movies playing in the 3 (yes..three) cinemas - one in each terminal. But I do not like the look of any of the movies so I don't watch any.

Internet is everywhere and it's free.

In summary - this place likes me and so I like it in return.