For today's photo session, I ventured South of Banglamphu on Thanon Tanao, down through the outskirts of Chinatown, ending at the Memorial Bridge area, where a big night market brews up every evening.

We just called the lucky winners. You know by now who you are!

Max S.
Neal de V.,
Matt G.
Lucky R.
Eric S.

Thanks to all that entered the contest!

Altamont presents
FYF FEST Saturday, Sep 04, 2010 12:00 PM PDT
Los Angeles State Historic Park
1245 N. Spring St
Los Angeles, CA 90012

After a super-tasty pancake and fruit breakfast at May Kaidee's followed by a sweltering but restful nap upstairs, I set out on another photo mission, this time to the Western section of Banglamphu. The first compound I came across, Wat Rajnadda, was closed, with several temples under various stages of renovation. When I tried to walk in the front entrance, some construction guy told me it was closed, so I just moseyed on around to the side and snuck in to snap a few photos. One of the temples had been stripped bare and was waiting to accept a new coat of gold and tiles, while another was wrapped up in scaffolding, all ready to get buffed.

Next, I spied a huge golden stupa not too far away, but it was rather difficult to find amid a maze of canals and bridges. Situated atop a big hill, it's called the Golden Mount at Wat Saket, accessible by a long, curved stairway with tiny steps that are annoying to walk up, unless you're a pygmy. On display were cheesy fake boulders adorned with what appeared to be Buddhist lawn ornaments. A pink flamingo and an elf wouldn't look out of place there. Halfway up was a collection of bells and a huge six-foot diameter gong on which I fired up a recording session. Too bad the gate leading to the top was closed. I peaked in and the curved stairway going up looked pretty enticing. Maybe I'll try to return here earlier in the day.

I spent the afternoon lounging around and gobbling down some goodness at May Kaidee's, where after a while, Noi banished me to the upstairs kickback room to read and take a nap. There, I discovered two baby kittens in a corner between two couches that looked like they were about to die. I told the crew downstairs and they fed the kittens some milk. Hopefully, they'll survive. No one who works there had even seen them before.

After another afternoon full of rest and relaxation, also known as sleeping and goofing off, I took a leisurely evening stroll up into the North part of Banglamphu, where I hadn't spent too much time before. Hordes of humans, who were actually clones of me, gathered to watch the setting sun glint off of the chedi at Wat Bowoniwes. This temple also featured a large Buddha image surrounded by three other even bigger ones lurking in the shadows.

Next on the agenda was Wat Intharavihan, home of the tallest Buddha yet witnessed by my eyeballs. Breaking the yardstick at around 100 feet tall, this funky, lanky thing brings new meaning to the phrase "neighborhood watch." Appropriately dubbed Luang Pho To, you can bet your last dollar that I snapped a pho to or two of it.

The highlight of the day arrived unexpectedly down near Khao San, where I happened upon a street musician in the form of a toohless old Thai guy riffing on a beat-up electric guitar plugged into a decrepit amp housed in a baby stroller. His guitar sounded like a peach--all dirty and fuzzy--accented by an occasional high-pitched Thai yelp. I was so stoked--especially because he didn't cough up any corny classic rock covers that are so common in this area.

Altamont presents
FYF FEST
Saturday, Sep 04, 2010 12:00 PM PDT
Los Angeles State Historic Park
1245 N. Spring St
Los Angeles, CA 90012
BUY TICKETS

My old chum the Chao Phraya river taxi propelled me downstream a little ways to the Memorial Bridge. On the Eastern side, there's a big, wide promenade that leads up to a statue dedicated to the memory of someone, but I don't know exactly who, because the steps leading down to view it were blocked off with plywood walls and I didn't feel like schlepping all the way around a quarter mile. Therefore, I now dedicate it to whoever invented the wheel. Next, I strolled over the Memorial Bridge and up a scenic walkway that proceeded North a ways to Wat Kanlayanamit.

There was no official prayer service going on, or singing by Buddhist monks, but I witnessed quite a few of the faithful bow their heads and close their eyes in front of the biggest Buddha image I've ever seen. This thing was a monster! It must have been at least 40 feet tall, not including the base. After gazing upon that glinting golden giant for a spell, I recorded myself playing numerous large bells, drums and gongs that were scattered inside the temple and around the courtyard. It's really nice that the monks let people strike them. I'm going to have a hell of a good time splicing together all of my field recordings from this trip when I get home.

The scenic walkway along the river ended, so I had to find an alternate route to my destination, Wat Arun. I had a hellacious time trying to find my way out of the Wat Kanlayanamit compound. I ended up walking as far in the wrong direction as possible, landing myself in the far back corner of a monastery. Finally, I got my bearings and made my way out onto the nearest Northbound street. By the time I arrived at Wat Arun, the main temples were already closed, but I was able to snap a few photos from outside the metal gates. I also made it into an adjacent temple for a nice, relaxing moment with another beautiful Buddha image.

Upon leaving, I found a small pier brandishing a ferry service straight across the river to Wat Pho, where I noticed a bus stop. I jumped on the next city bus that came my way, even though I didn't know its exact route. The fact that it was heading North toward Banglamphu was enough. I figured if it started to veer off in another direction, I'd simply disembark and walk the rest of the way. As it turned out, the bus took me all the way to where I needed to go, just a block from the sandwich stall and my favorite Internet shop.

I stopped by a neighborhood Buddhist temple in Banglamphu called Wat Chana Songkhram, where I listened to the monks sing. It's an amazing and wonderful thing to hear their solemn songs ring out in such a large, reverberant structure. I was also struck by a plethora of Buddha images that were lovingly covered with so much gold leaf over the years, their features were mostly obscured and the upper layers were peeling off. Oddly enough, when I walked around back to see more of the compound, I bumped into Gordon, the fellow I had met with the South Korean snorkelers the night before. I sure didn't expect to see him at a Buddhist temple. He teaches English here in Thailand, which is a pretty common gig for foreigners.

Every Saturday night, there's a buffet and a little bit of traditional Thai dance at May Kaidee's, so I headed over there for a couple of hours of taste bud-teasin' and eyeball-easin' fun. In foodie circles, May is quite well-known, having worked her magic across several continents and even on TV. Originally a poor country girl from the Northeast province of Issan, May started working at her Aunt's Bangkok restaurant in the 1980s. May opened her own restaurant later in that decade, which spawned many imitators along the same alley, and she's since opened a second in Bangkok and a third in Chiang Mai. May also teaches cooking classes seven days a week, and copies of the second edition of her cookbook fly out the door. Can you say success story?

I jumped on the Chao Phraya river taxi to catch a cool breeze, but, unfortunately, they had installed some clear, plastic splash guards that blocked most of the air. But, soon after, the ever-present blast of air conditioning on the Skytrain offered a brief relief from the tropical heat. I walked around downtown for a while, stopping to sit and people watch whenever I could find some stairs that overlooked the street. I bought a pretzel coated with fine garlic powder that almost made me choke to death! Ha-ha.

I usually catch bus 15 from Siam Square back to Banglamphu, but tonight I thought I'd walk up the street a ways to avoid sitting on the sweatbox while it sat in stopped traffic for a half hour. But, I waited over an hour at the next stop, but the bus never showed up. I asked a local and he advised me to go back to Siam, which I did. I waited there for another hour as some dudes threw metal poles into the back of a big truck, which created the most annoying racket I had heard in the past hour. It was half past midnight and I just wanted to go back to my room. I asked a young lady about bus 15, but she said it had probably stopped for the night. Instead, we shared a cab ride.

Back in Banglamphu, I returned to the same food cart I had visited the night before for another cheese baguette sandwich. I overheard an American guy talking to two girls from Austria. Not so much a conversation, it was more like the man had launched into a 30-minute intellectual soliloquy chock-full of big words and obscure American references that flew right over their heads. But, at least I was amused. After the girls departed, a young couple from South Korea sat down for dinner next to me wearing full-on snorkeling gear. I asked if they had been snorkeling in their hotel pool, but they said no. They had just returned from an island 10 hours away in South Thailand. I have no idea why they were still wearing their snorkeling gear in Bangkok, of all places. Maybe to more efficiently combat the high humidity.

Altamont presents
FYF FEST
Saturday, Sep 04, 2010 12:00 PM PDT
Los Angeles State Historic Park
1245 N. Spring St
Los Angeles, CA 90012
BUY TICKETS

That's right boys and girls, LA’s Skate Rock superstars, The Goat & The Occasional Others added to FYF FEST 2010 line up. (I know. What can we say? Festival co-curator Keith Morris is a fan!)

Didn’t get enough of Altamont’s Andrew Reynolds in Stay Gold: The Emerica Video? Well then, come on down to the Los Angeles State Historic Park this Labor Day weekend, Saturday, September 4 and see Drew, Spanky, Beagle, Atiba and Shane do what they do worst: play music! Presented by Altamont, FYF FEST is Los Angeles’ biggest and best truly independent music festival with over 30 great bands, live comedy featuring Janeane Garofalo and others, food trucks with vegan and veggie options, a record swap, vintage clothing, carnival games, art installations, raffles and more! Tickets to FYF FEST 2010 brought to you by Altamont are $30 advance via Ticketweb. This promises to be the best Labor Day weekend ever in Downtown LA!

And as if that weren’t enough, The Goat & the Occasional Others will be opening up for Panda Bear (Animal Collective) and The Rapture at FYF FAN FEST on Sunday, September 5 at an intimate location to be announced. As an added bonus to festival-goers, tickets to this very special show are only $10 and will ONLY be available onsite at FYF FEST on Saturday.

Take advantage of the FYF FEST “Back 2 School” special at Ticketweb, and buy 4 tickets to FYF FEST and get the fifth one free! Grab your friends, fill up a car and make it an FYF, Altamont and The Goat weekend!

In addition to presenting sponsorship support from Altamont, FYF FEST 2010 could not happen without the continued support from INCASE, SESAC, Royal Elastics, Sailor Jerry, and the California State Park Rangers. Support those who support independent music!

DON'T FORGET: there's still time to enter to WIN FREE TIX to FYF FEST 2010 brought to you by Altamont!

Still recovering from all of my travels around Myanmar and back into Thailand, I slept in really late again for the third day in a row. In the late afternoon, after a late lunch at May Kaidee's, I finally went for a walk. I thought about hopping on the Chao Phraya river taxi to feel some of that cool river breeze. Instead, still feeling the gastro-intestinal effects of that awful Myanmar food, I got sidetracked at Santichaiprakarn Park, where I sat down on some sandbags and relaxed. A young German traveler, whose name I forgot, joined me. He said he never forgets a face and that he remembered me from the Red Dragon hostel in Kuala Lumpur, but unfortunately, I didn't recall seeing him. He has been on the road in Southeast Asia for several months and will continue until the end of this year. He stays in only the barest bones cheapest rooms, eats only street food and walks around seeing only free sights.

After he left, I bought a drink and sat on a concrete bench right by the water while the crazy aerobics ladies started up their daily techno pop-fueled workout. A friendly Thai man, whose name I didn't catch, started up a conversation with me. Due to the loud music and his strong accent, it was hard to tell what he was saying, but I did catch that he is 35 and works for Nissan, where he makes about $350 per month. This guy had such a jovial, animated personality, it was pretty funny. At one point, a big wave from a boat came up, splashed against the river wall and all over my right side. My camera was in my right pocket, but, luckily, it was nestled safe inside its case. I moved to another bench a few yards away from the water.

The Thai guy said goodbye and another local--this one a lady--started talking to me. It's amazing how many Thai people are so friendly and outgoing, especially toward foreigners. People in the United States hardly ever approach me just to talk, but in Thailand, it happens quite frequently. Sure, some of them end up trying to sell you something, but many others do not. Back to the lady: her name is Pim, she is also in her 30s and works in a massage shop off of the Thanon Khao San tourist center. Like many Thai people, she is very poor, and shares a one-room apartment with two other women. Her personality was more subdued than the Thai fellow I just met, and she seemed very humble and kind. After we chatted for an hour or so, I decided to head back to my room, stopping for a yummy veggie and cheese sandwich at a food stall on the way.

Let's talk about chow. More specifically, restaurant service in Southeast Asia. After all of the awful food in Myanmar that gave me diarrhea twice in two weeks, I was so stoked to be back in Bangkok and eating good food again. But, a kid that works the floor at my favorite restaurant messed up twice today. The first time was at lunch when it was really busy. I had been sitting and waiting for 10 minutes for a menu when a couple of other guys came in and sat down. The kid instantly brought them menus. As he walked by, I waved, but he still ignored me. I had to walk up to the counter to get someone else's attention to place my order.

The second time was at dinner later in the evening. When I walked in and sat down, the place was devoid of customers. A moment later, a family of four entered and sat at the table next to me. I ordered, then they did. A little while later, the same kid served them their appetizers and my food, which they were puzzled over but started chowing down anyway. I thought it was probably mine, but I wasn't totally sure, so I didn't say anything. A while later, the staff finally figured it out and re-made my food, but it took forever, and the family was almost finished eating by the time I even got started. I never even got an apology.

I know the concept of restaurant service in Southeast Asia is very different from the West. At almost every restaurant I've eaten at down here in every country--even really nice ones in Bali--the wait staff just seats you, takes your order, brings your food and that's it. They just ignore you from that point on. If you want anything else, even your check, you have to flag them down. But the situation today was different. I know everyone makes mistakes, but two major blunders in one day? I say it's time to teach that kid to pay attention to what he's doing and to what's going on in the restaurant. Come on, I'm starving here! And I'm trying to support your restaurant.

Another travel day started out with a little more painfully slow Myanmar Internet, then the myriad of strange and colorful sights and sounds that can besiege you in Southeast Asia worked their magic. Around 3:00 p.m., as I climbed into a taxi cab with two Frenchies, a random procession of novice Buddhist monks chanted as they slowly paraded down the street in front of the Motherland II Inn. I quickly dug my camera out of my backpack to get a shot. A little bit later, I was bummed I had packed my camera away again when we passed a couple of guys hauling a dozen dead chickens tied to each of their bicycles. Immigration out of Myanmar and back into Thailand went smoothly, and I caught a city bus back into Banglamphu, a 45-minute ride away, for only a dollar! Donna Guest House didn't have any single rooms open, so I found a slightly dirty one at Nat II Guest House down the alley. It's pretty amazing how well the Southeast Asia travel / accommodation infrastructure works--if you stay on the beaten path.

Don't miss the past few Myanmar updates, as I just recently posted them!

Tropical Punch Tour: Myanmar Part 8
Tropical Punch Tour: Myanmar Part 9
Tropical Punch Tour: Myanmar Part 10
Tropical Punch Tour: Myanmar Part 11
Tropical Punch Tour: Myanmar Part 12
Tropical Punch Tour: Myanmar Part 13

Dylan 'MF' Perry loves his iPhones.

Human banner during the product toss.

I arrived at the bus station in Rangon at around 6:00 a.m. and haggled with some taxi cab drivers for the 45-minute ride into town. I ended up sharing a cab with three other backpackers, so we paid $2.00 each, which is a really good deal. I finally made it to the Motherland II Inn at around 7:00 a.m., where I was lucky to get a room to myself. I crashed all day and finally awoke around 5:00 p.m. I spent the whole evening working on my Taungbyone stories and photos, a laborious process that was really bogged down by the standard molasses-slow Internet connection in Myanmar.

Altamont is honored to partner with Downtown Los Angeles’ legendary all-ages music and arts venue The Smell on this rare set of collaboration tees, each one bearing a different likeness of the The Smell’s infamous off-and-on volunteer “security team,” Daniel and Frank.

Bordering LA’s notorious Skid Row and continuing in the tradition of Los-Angeles-based underground clubs such as The Masque and The Jabberjaw, since 1998 The Smell has been a community oriented art and music space open to people of all ages who are interested in participating in and supporting an environment of creativity and artistic innovation and freedom. The designs in The Smell for Altamont series are The Smell’s first official merchandise offerings and all proceeds from the sale of these tees goes directly back into maintaining and supporting the The Smell’s minimum required upkeep and improvement costs. Altamont is proud to support The Smell and their ongoing mission of nurturing an independent arts and music scene based in Los Angeles and linked with other like-minded and vibrant scenes nationwide.

Both tees in The Smell for Altamont series are available exclusively at The Smell in limited quantities while supplies last. Visit the The Smell online for more information and a listing of upcoming events. The Smell is dedicated to keeping their events affordable, and most of their events are a low $5 admission. The Smell appreciates the public’s continued support and participation, and Altamont hopes that when you visit Los Angeles you will consider The Smell your home and to provide your invaluable input to the community.

The Smell
247 S. Main St.
Downtown Los Angeles

Altamont presents FYF FEST 2010:

And in case you haven’t heard, Altamont is giving away free tickets to the FYF FEST in Los Angeles on Saturday, September 4. More info about FYF FEST 2010, presented by Altamont, and directions on how to enter the free tickets giveaway here.

About The Smell: Throughout its more than 10 year history, co-founder Jim Smith has ensured The Smell remains dedicated to the principle of D.I.Y. The Smell is completely not-for-profit and volunteer run. The community of individuals who call The Smell their home, whether it be the musicians who play there, the artists whose work hangs on the walls, or the dedicated supporters who attend the events week in and week out, are the same individuals who book the shows, run the front door, provide quality sound engineering services, staff the vegan snack bar, and help with cleaning and general upkeep. In the interest of these principles, and in keeping with The Smell’s commitment to creating and maintaining a space that is dedicated first and foremost to the art and the music, and to complete artistic freedom and innovation, The Smell is open to people of all ages and is alcohol free.

About FYF FEST: Presented by Altamont, FYF FEST is Los Angeles’ biggest and best truly independent music festival featuring over 30 bands, a comedy stage, food festival with many vegan and vegetarian options, record swap, and much, much more. It all takes place over Labor Day weekend on Saturday, September 4 at Los Angeles State Historic Park in Chinatown.

There’s no purchase necessary to enter, and no age restrictions. Just drop by any participating Active retail location from August 13 – 30 and register for your chance to win one of five pairs of free tickets. Winners will be drawn at random and contacted by 5 p.m. on September 1. What have you got to lose?!

Find an Active retail location near you.

Now in its seventh year, FYF FEST is happening outdoors for the second year in a row at the Los Angeles State Historic Park in downtown LA on September 4th, 2010. FYF FEST 2010 is co-curated by Sean Carlson and Keith Morris, frontman of Off!, The Circle Jerks and Black Flag and with some additional help from a handful of good friends they have been able to put together the largest truly independent music festival to take place in Los Angeles. Altamont is honored to partner once again with FYF FEST to help make this one truly exciting and memorable Labor Day weekend for So Cal music fans, like us.

The FYF FEST 2010 lineup includes:

THE RAPTURE, PANDA BEAR, !!!, UNBROKEN, THE MOUNTAIN GOATS, DEAD MAN’S BONES,SLEEP, TED LEO & THE PHARMACISTS, MAN MAN, ARIEL PINK’S HAUNTED GRAFFITI, DELOREAN, COLD CAVE, 7SECONDS, THEE OH SEES, WASHED OUT, DAVILA 666, SCHOOL OF SEVEN BELLS, AA BONDY, THE BLOW, BEST COAST, TITUS ANDRONICUS, WAVVES, THE SOFT PACK, ABE VIGODA, WARPAINT, OFF!, VETIVER, CEREMONY, BIG FREEDIA, SCREAMING FEMALES, MAGIC KIDS, THE GROWLERS, LOWER DENS, LET’S WRESTLE, CULTS, DUBLAB SOUNDSYSTEM and more!

JUST ADDED: LOCAL NATIVES and Comedy Stage featuring JANEANE GAROFALO and others!

There will be food trucks and over dozen food vendors including many vegetarian and vegan options. Other activities added to FYF include a record swap, carnival games and large vending village. More info below.

Advance tickets are $25 and VIP tickets are available at $65 via Ticketweb.

Be sure to get updates by following Altamont Apparel on Twitter and Facebook and MySpace. And be stoked to spend Labor Day Weekend in Los Angeles. This will be the best weekend of the summer!

In addition to presenting sponsorship support from Altamont, FYF FEST 2010 could not happen without the continued support from INCASE, SESAC, Royal Elastics, Sailor Jerry, and the California State Park Rangers. Support those who support independent music!

Altamont presents
FYF FEST
Saturday, Sep 04, 2010 12:00 PM PDT
Los Angeles State Historic Park
1245 N. Spring St
Los Angeles, CA 90012
BUY TICKETS

Since it was my last day in Mandalay, I went for one last serving of vegetable and potato curry at Marie Min, a vegetarian restaurant that was responsible for cooking the only food I liked in all of Mandalay and Rangon. Then I worked on my Taungbyone photos for a short spell and said goodbye to the congenial crew who runs the shiny clean Royal Guest House. As 6:00 p.m. arrived, I departed by jumping on the back of a motorcycle with my heavy-ass backpack for a hair-raising half-hour ride through anarchic intersections to the equally chaotic and dust-choked bus station.

When I boarded the bus and sat in my assigned aisle seat, the guy who sat next to me bitched about the backpack between my legs, claiming he couldn't get in and out when he wanted. I told him all I had to do was move it out of the way whenever he wanted to get up. Then I figured out the overhead luggage bins were big enough, so I threw it up there. Then that guy, who looked 30-something years old, fidgeted like a little kid for half of the 12-hour ride to Yangon. He finally fell asleep after the Burmese ballads and sit-coms ended after midnight.

In a futile and laughable attempt to beat the heat, I set out for Taungbyone in the late afternoon. But, that didn't matter, because it's miserably hot 24 hours per day in Southeast Asia. Most forms of transport in Myanmar won't depart until they're full, and, true to form, the bus I got on sat for 20 or 30 minutes. A few ladies climbed aboard, but not enough for the driver to launch a mission. I finally got tired of waiting and wedged myself into the back of a packed mini-truck headed for Taungbyone. I sat with my back up against the cab, right in the middle of a bunch of locals and families--practically on top of their feet. It was uncomfortable as hell, but I loved every minute.

Upon arrival, I skipped the impossibly crowded main temple and went straight to the myriad smaller nat pwe events that were going down in the seemingly endless thatched huts of the back alleys. I didn't have to walk far to come across one. Sometimes two of them were blasting away right across a dirt lane just a few feet away from each other! At the center of each was the nat kadaw, a very highly revered figure in the nat subculture. "A flamboyant and charismatic master of ceremonies dressed in elegant costume, the kadaw is a spirit medium, dancer, storyteller, and magician who exposes the crowd to a living incarnation of the nat. Many of the kadaws are male crossdressers performing the role of female Nats."--Sublime Frequencies

To help relieve the effects of extreme heat, nat pwe attendees constantly fan the nat kadaws and each other. At the first show I stepped into, an incredibly nice, matronly lady noticed me soaked in sweat and gushing gallons more, then she fanned me for a half hour non-stop. I was already a very humble person, but that little act of supreme kindness humbled me about 2,684,598 billion times more. A while later, as I was leaving that hut compound, the same lady made sure I found my way out okay, then smiled and waved as I walked away. I know that will be one of the most memorable moments of this whole three-and-a-half month trip.

In the next pwe, several women were caught in the throes of an ecstatic trance dance, which I luckily caught on video, while in another, a tranny queen all dolled up in a long, sparkling pink dress entertained her entourage with some stylish moves then plied them with whiskey. An elderly lady nat kadaw blessed her troupe in a quiet and somber moment at yet another event, while a couple of others down the lane sashayed in the most stylish manner you could ever dream of.

And all the while, within each pwe, a traditional Burmese orchestra worked the faithful up into an absolute frothing frenzy. As the drummers pounded away on their skins, the cymbals, clappers, gongs and wood blocks joined in--all with so much gusto, exuberance and joy, it felt like the Earth was just being born. The icing was slathered onto this big, wild, quivering cake by the little lady singer, who belted out a high-pitched, reverb-drenched melody that brought it all home to the Burmese nat worshipping faithful.

Around 1:00 a.m., I checked up on the main temple, but it was still overwhelmingly crowded. Completely spent, I made my way through the muddy, trash-filled dirt paths, over a stinky creek or two and out past all of the vendor stalls into the loud, chaotic transport lane, where I was lucky to score shotgun in the cab of a big pickup truck heading back to Mandalay. And it only cost a dollar! I never saw any tourists all day, except, ironically, right as I was leaving. The next day, one guy told me he stayed until 5:00 a.m. and the festivities were still going strong! (The last day is August 25.) The Taungbyone nat pwe easily ranks as one of the top ten events I've ever attended, and one of the funnest times of my whole life. It doesn't get any more raw and real than this!

Like most people everywhere, the Burmese strive for success in business, friendship, love, and life in general. Many of them seek good luck in these and other endeavors from spirits called nats. This is accomplished by making offerings and erecting shrines for them, and consulting with a colorfully costumed character called a nat kadaw (spirit medium) in a special music and dance event called a nat pwe (spirit show). Small nat pwes take place all over Myanmar every day, but the largest event of the year occurs every August when thousands of Burmese invade a small village called Taungbyone about 12 miles North of Mandalay in the central part of the country.

Equal parts street fair, carnival, concert and religious ceremony, the Taungbyone festival is an ultra-intense blast furnace of vivid, colorful, chaotic sights and sounds. In a tradition that dates back over 900 years, an orchestra consisting of saing-waing and kyi-waing (drums and gongs arranged in circular enclosures), hand drums, cymbals, a wood block, let-ko (bamboo clapper) and a heavily reverbed vocalist provide the blaring, clangorous rhythm for the faithful as they give offerings of food, alcohol, flowers and money to the nat kadaw in exchange for good luck blessings from the actual nat itself, which enters the body of the kadaw during a frenzy of dance and music.

In the early afternoon, I climbed aboard a rickety old bus that got instantly crammed full of a mass of Burmese humanity and bashed its way up the bumpy, food stall-lined roads North of Mandalay. As we hung a left onto a road divided by a small canal, women and children beggars lined each side, calling out for money or food. Then the bus heaved and squeezed its way into a really dusty, bumpy parking area, where everyone jumped off. I made my way down some endlessly long lanes lined on each side by stalls offering mountains of every kind of thing you can imagine. The usual food, drinks and clothing were well represented, plus unexpected items like cookware, cutlery, tools and endless other stuff. It looked like Wal-Mart got emptied out into a dirt lot.

I ventured down some side alleys, where I finally found a few flowery nat shrines and some Burmese musicians with their instruments. Employing hand gestures, I asked what time the music and dancing started, and they said 7:00, although I wasn't sure if they meant in the evening or the following morning, because these events often go on all night. Then a middle-aged Burmese lady from Yangon took me under her wing and totally started mothering me, guiding me around, buying me water, etc. It was so funny. After asking some locals where a ceremony might be underway, she led me through a maze of chaos over to the main temple.

Scores of people packed the narrow lanes and swarmed around the temple. Although it was later in the afternoon, the sun still cast a thick, sweltering blanket over everything, and the body heat from all of the frantic dancing and music inside pushed the temperature up to suffocating levels. The place was packed so tight, it was impossible to get insde the central fenced-in area where the nat kadaws worked their magic. After I watched a few rounds (so many nat kadaws were present that each one only got 15 minutes), my new guide led me over to a hut full of her friends, where we talked about nat culture and they fed me delicious, sweet bananas.

I also talked with a crew of guys in the next hut over who were working on a scripted movie based around the nat pwe. All of the people I met today were so nice, it was kind of unbelievable. By the time dusk floated around, I was totally battered by all of the heat and hyperactivity. My new friend was ready to leave, too, and offered to show me the way out to the pickup truck area, where we caught one back into Mandalay. When we got dropped off, I got invited to dinner with her and a friend. Both of them live in Yangon and came up for the festival.

Bryan Herman makes the grand entrance on crutches

Andrew Reynolds and Bryan Herman pose for a shot

Smiling faces everywhere.

The Stay Gold world premiere tour flyer, a true collectors item.

After the video the crowd filled the streets in front of the theater.

Check out the Timebomb Facebook page for more photos!

I started the day off in fine fashion with a couple of curry dishes--vegetable and potatoes--at Marie Min, a good yet low-key restaurant hidden away in a back alley a block away from the South side of the moat. Then I rented a bicycle again and went on a relatively relaxing ride around the wide, divided avenue around the moat up to Kuthodaw Pagoda, near the Northwest corner. This Buddhist temple really stands out from the pack with its 729 blinding white stupas, each of which contains a portion of the Buddhist Tripitaka story, bestowing upon it the world's biggest book status.

Another young Buddhist monk befriended me, and we sat and talked for close to an hour, practically grilling each other on our respective lives. A little while later, an older monk joined in the fun. As the sun approached the horizon, it really set the stupa field aglow, so I set off on a quick photo mission just before sunset. One of the two most persistent hawkers I've encountered on this whole trip followed me around every step of the way. He had originally approached me as I first entered the compound, then he continued his efforts to sell me a little metal Buddhist animal figurine / prayer bell.

It was actually really nice-looking and emitted a very relaxing ringing sound, but I'm just not the kind of person who collects knick-knacks. But, this man would not take no for an answer. He didn't give up until I said goodbye to the monk and made my way out of the temple--now with a total of three Buddhist monks' email addresses. This monk even said he was on Facebook and MySpace, which surprised me. It's hard to picture those guys hanging out on the Web.

As night fell, I took a trishaw (bicycle taxi) over to Mintha Theater, a new little venue that opened in 2006 that's all decorated up to charm your pants off. There I saw an hour's worth of traditional Burmese music and dance. Some highlights performed by the eager young ensemble included an intricate and stately harp solo, followed by two dances from traditional Burmese nat pwe spirit invocation ceremonies: Dance of the Spirit Medium and Dance of the Guardian Spirit of Mt. Popa.

On the lighter side was the funny Spirit Boozer U Mingyaw Dance, in which the performer humorously staggered around the stage in a stupor. More slapstick arrived in the form of the Jolly Joker Dance of Shwe Yoe and Daw Moe. The ender was scored by a juggler who stood on two bottles on top of a chair while juggling a ball with her foot and rings with her hands, among many other stunts. All of the colorful dance was supported by a small, traditional Burmese orchestra consisting of circular drums, gongs and shrill horns which bashed out a loose and boisterous yet oddly melodic cacophony.

Fuel TV's resident clown, Boosh was on hand to cover the celebration...

Be sure to visit Bryan Herman's Pharmacy Hollywood when in Los Angeles for the widest selection of Altamont apparel west of the Rockies!

Pharmacy Hollywood
1542 N. Cahuenga Blvd.
Hollywood, California 90028

Check the Baker Boys website for more photos!

Tonight they will be in Vancouver, Canada. On Saturday night they will be in Des Moines, Iowa and on Monday night the will be in New York City. After that they are flying to Europe to attend the premieres there in Paris, Vienna and Stuttgart.
Here's the flyer for more info!

I headed to the Southern area of Mandalay again in search of Shwe In Bin Kyaung, an amazing Buddhist monastery made out of teak wood. The quest turned out to be as fruitful as the destination, as it resulted in some my favorite photos I've taken on this entire trip. On the way South, I had a chance encounter with a street procession action unit called Thone Yaung Chael, who plied the roads of Mandalay with pushcarts, bashing out a brash rhythm on drums, cymbals and a wooden block--all strangely accented with a solemn Indonesian gong--while an amplified vocalist sang and let the neighborhood know what's up.

Under a searing sun and suffocating humidity, I then rode my rental bike up and down one bumpy, rocky, dusty and / or flooded alley, street and road after another. Around in circles, squares and Isosceles triangles I went looking for the monastery. At one point, I pedaled past a pond where young boys were fishing (with strings tied to sticks) off of a small wooden footbridge. I know an obvious Kodak moment when I see one, so I slammed on the brakes, turned around and captured it. A little while and a few more photo ops later, I even found myself on the trash-strewn banks of the Ayeyarwady river.

A few blocks away, a couple of nice, young Buddhist monks pointed me in the right direction, and I finally made my way inside Shwe In Bin Kyaung. Built in 1895, its dark wood is, of course, well weathered, lending the intricate carvings that cover it more character than a Warner Brothers cartoon. I met a couple of more nice, young Buddhist monks, one of whom was named Pyanyananda. He chatted me up for quite a while and practiced his English in the process. Just like the monk down at Shwedagon Pagoda in Yangon, he also gave me his email address.

As night fell, I headed over to Marie Min restaurant for dinner, which serves the best food in Myanmar I've tasted so far. Right before I made it there, I bumped into another pushcart band called Shwe Pone Taung, who were quite similar to the first outfit I encountered earlier in the day, except they added keyboards into the mix. Since it was totally dark and street lights in Mandalay are dim and few and far between, they had bright florescent lights bolted onto their carts, along with huge amps blasting out their repertoire of traditional Burmese music, one song of which I've heard before on a Nat Pwe CD. I followed Shwe Pone Taung down a flooded back street for a spell, wading through the black water and shooting photos and video the whole way. One crusty old man even shimmied a wild jig to the music in the middle of a giant puddle out in the dark.

I rented another bicycle that was somewhat easier to pedal than the one yesterday, and ventured in the opposite direction of Mandalay Hill down South to Mahamuni Pagoda, Myanmar’s second holiest temple, after Shwedagon Pagoda in Rangon. First, let me say that many intersections in Mandalay have no traffic lights or stop signs, so anarchy pretty much reigns supreme. You have three choices: Just go for it and charge straight through; weave your way around all of the bicycles, motorcycles, cars and trucks like a basket case; or make a slight turn until everyone whizzes by and the coast is clear, then head straight again. In a small park outside of Mahamuni Pagoda, I felt like I had stepped onto the set of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds as folks fed a million pigeons, which occasionally got fed up themselves and flocked into the sky around in a half circle, descending to the ground once again for more grub.

Inside the temple, long corridors full of shiny, glittery souvenirs led to a 12 foot high Buddha statue coated and re-coated in so much gold over the centuries that most of the original detail is hopelessly obscured, forming some gloriously blobbed Buddha bling. A huge compound surrounds the shrine, complete with ornate roofs, huge prayer bells, and a giant 10 foot diameter gong that could wake the dead. When the temple was finished stoking me out, I rode around on a random photo mission in the raw back streets of South Mandalay. I saw the most ridiculously rigged truck with no hood, front fenders or anything covering the engine. It was the funniest, loudest, smoke-belching, chug-a-lug contraption ever to roll across the Earth. I chased it down the street, passed it, then waited and tried to shoot a video clip, but after it drove by, I realized I had the camera on the wrong setting. Argh! I tried a new eatery later that night called the BBB Café, where I ordered a veggie sandwich and French fries. As soon as the waiter set it down, I counted the fries, and there were exactly eight of them. There must be some kind of French fry rationing program going on in Myanmar. Also, this meal had the same odd taste as the one I ate at V Café. What the hell is up with the food in this country?

I was kind of tired and still feeling the effects of my stomach bug when I woke up, which tempted me to sleep in all day again. But, no, just for fun, I had to venture outside into the hot, hostile reality of Mandalay and its dirty, chaotic streets. I’m a glutton for punishment. I rented a bicycle and pedaled halfway around a giant moat that surrounds Mandalay Palace, which is at least one and a quarter miles long on each side. Designed with the worst geometry ever, this bike was way more inefficient and difficult to pedal than a beach cruiser. Thanks to that and the fact that it only had one gear, when I reached the foot of Mandalay Hill, I had to push it up the steep, winding road to the top--an elevation gain of roughly 700 feet above the city. It was so incredibly hot and humid, my clothes were completely saturated with sweat and I had to stop and rest two or three times!

At the tip top, high up above the obligatory souvenir, snack and drink stalls stood a nice Buddha shrine / observation deck that offered a great view of the whole city, the Ayeyarwady river, and the Shan hills to the East. That and a refreshing breeze—a rare occurrence in Southeast Asia—made me want to hang around for a while, but I had to get the bike back on time. As I made my way down the tight hairpin turns, the brakes squealed with delight, I mean torture. I stared with surprise and envy at several locals who pedaled up the hill on nice mountain bikes—one guy even had a shiny new Trek. I would have happily traded my gut bug to cruise around town on that thing!

At about 6:00 a.m., I was rudely awakened from a nap by a return of the sappy Burmese power ballads cranked at full volume as the bus tooled across the dusty land of central Myanmar and on through a small pagoda-dotted town near Mandalay. The combination of the jarring ride, the music and the driver constantly beeping the horn at bicycles, motorcycles and other vehicular traffic was annoying to the extreme. I got dumped off at the Highway Bus Station, a bumpy, dusty, ramshackle, multi-building place that, under the blaring sun, is totally inhospitable to every life form except maybe bacteria. I tramped around in and out of each building looking for the fellow Motherland Inn guy to share another ride taxi with, but he had already disappeared. I haggled with a lying-ass cab driver who tried his hardest to convince me that it was 14 kilometers to town, even when I shoved my guidebook in his face, which was turned to the page that said it's only seven. I finally talked him down to $2.50.

I climbed into the back of a tiny truck called a lain-ka (similar to Thailand's songthaew) the size of a golf cart. I got bounced around like a ping pong ball and nearly smacked my head into the roof as we made our way down a really bumpy dirt road. At one point, the truck passed the most beautiful Burmese lady who was on foot, wearing a traditional longyi skirt and gold thanaka paste smeared all over her face for sun protection. I smiled and she smiled back so cute for a super long time as she faded away out of view into the dust. It was such a beautiful moment. When we finally made it onto pavement, we passed scores of people riding bicycles, which was great to see, as well as the usual motorcycles, cars, trucks, buses, etc. engaged in a semi-orderly yet chaotic dance. I had the driver drop me off at the Royal Guest House, a cramped, multi-story place with funky yet appealing decor that is kept spotless by all of the kids who run the place. I felt really lucky to get a room, which was only $5.00 per night. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out like a log, sawing lumber from 9:00 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. just like a job. That evening, I ate a veggie burger and fries (all seven or eight of them) at V's Cafe, a pretty swank place that serves U.S. and European-style food. The taste was all right, although it was tinged with that slightly odd Burmese flavor that I can't really describe.

I had to take a taxi cab ride or two again today, and boy, do I know how to choose 'em! The first driver was an old man who was supposed to drive me a short distance away to the Easter Hotel, where I could cash some traveler's checks. A lady from Motherland Inn II even wrote down directions for him in Burmese. He ended up schlepping me all over downtown to two or three other hotels, as I sweltered in his hot, dirty, beat-up old car, often sitting motionless in really bad traffic. But, at least I got a quick tour of downtown. After asking two or three different other cab drivers, he finally dropped me off at the Eastern Hotel, not Easter. Ha-ha. They charged me a 10% commission for each $50 check. Ouch! But, I had to do it, because I’m going to Mandalay soon, where only one place does it, for a whopping 20% commission. Since my hotel was only a half mile away, I just walked back and rubber necked at all of the quirky street stalls selling the most random stuff, like one guy who sold only nuts and bolts, and another who offered only huge precision bearings. When I return to Yangon next week, I’m going to snap a photo of that one.

The Internet in Myanmar is painfully slow, so I had to spend three hours posting the previous day’s update! And the only thing that makes it possible is a proxy server, as the military government here restricts a lot of the good ol’ World Wide Web that we take for granted. Right when I was finished, it was time to catch another cab to the bus station about 10 miles North. I shared the ride with another guest from the Motherland Inn, who also happened to be going to Mandalay on the same bus as me! At $2.50 each, it was a good deal, even though we had to stop three times when the tailpipe on this rattletrap cab came loose and dragged on the ground. No big, the driver just tied it back up with a plastic bag.

The long-distance bus was a pretty cramped single-decker. I could barely fit into my seat with my backpack between my knees, but at least it had air conditioning. For the first few hours, we rode up an incredibly bumpy single lane road, later merging onto a divided highway with two lanes in each direction. It was a little bit smoother, but not by much. The driver played a DVD of some awful Burmese power ballads for a while, followed by an insanely violent Japanese martial arts flick. After that ended, he finally turned off the player, but the ride was still loud as hell as the bus groaned, squeaked and rattled over all of the bumps and potholes. The air conditioning got so cold, other passengers wrapped the bus curtains around their heads and I covered up with my rain jacket. I was also feeling the slight malaise of diarrhea, and I only got in a few short naps all night. This 12-hour jaunt proved to be, hands down, the most hellish bus ride I’ve ever been on in my whole life.

Right after breakfast this morning, I was up and at 'em--no more lounging around! The first order of business was to buy a new memory card for my camera at a department store down the street. Since it was imported from California, it cost around $27, instead of the usual $15. Also, the package claimed an eight gig capacity, but it was
really more like four when I put it in my camera. What a rip off!

I also bought one more bottle of sunblock, since I was getting kind of low and I can't get stuck without it, or I'll transform into a huge, skin cancer-filled tomato. It was funny when I was looking for the sunblock, a group of six or seven girls surrounded me at one point and tried to tell me where to find it. There were also two security guards at every entrance. It seemed like this place had more employees than customers, even though it was crowded. Also, like every business in Myanmar, they wouldn't accept any U.S. bills with even the slightest imperfection. Since the U.S. imposed sanctions on Myanmar a few years ago, international banks left the country. As a result, U.S. cash is traded only on the black market, and only pristine bills are accepted.

It was a sunny day out, so I climbed up onto a creaky, dirty old city bus bound for Shwedagon Pagoda. This bumper car / toaster / torture chamber on wheels could knock the wind out of a blue whale, so it pretty much had no problem battering me into submission. Bus resume: Seats so close together I could only fit on the front bench with my legs out in the aisle, constant starting and stopping, brakes slamming, potholes jarring, and the worst humidity on this side of the sun make for one hell of a team player.

I was hungry as I made my way through the backstreets toward the Shwedagon. As always, most of the stalls offered up meat, and the one that didn't put a bug in my gut! Even though it was a sketchy-looking, cold buffet / airport for flies, I stupidly went for it anyway, as I knew it would be several hours until I had another chance to chow down. I ate some pasta, which tasted okay, and some unknown green plant-based glop that tasted horrible. Sure enough, later that night, my gut started to ache. This is only the second time on this whole trip that it's happened--the first time was about a week after I arrived in Bali. I couple of anti-biotic pills cleared it right up that time. Let's hope it works again!

The Shwedagon Pagoda is Myanmar's biggest and most revered Buddhist monument. Rising 300 feet above Yangon, this gold-coated monolith pierces the sky and the human mind with a sense of majestic oneness. Surrounded by 82 smaller buildings that house an endless array of Buddha statues and other fanciful creatures from this religion's lore, it foists a sense of awe upon the visitor. I literally laughed out loud with glee as I walked around and gazed at all of the fanciful eye candy. It's almost too much to endure in one visit.

Many different clusters of people prayed and made incense-smoked offerings while others tooled around and took in the magnificent architecture, statuary and paintings. It took me several hours to make my way around the whole circumference. A few people tried to foist guide services upon me, but I shook them off. Then a young Buddhist monk named Ashin Varasiha approached me for a chat. He was very friendly and kind, and seemed so happy to spend time talking about life in each of our respective countries. When I typed his name into my iPod, he even gave me his email address! It's always a pleasure to meet people like this who don't try to sell me anything.

Here's the question for Friday August 13th:
What's the first trick Kenny Hoyle tries when he get's out of the car to warm up?

Submit your answer on the contest page and give us your info!

Everyday you'll have a chance to win a box with Altamont Apparel, DVS X Altamont shoes, Expedition One board, Venture trucks and Gold wheels.

Follow Altamont on Twitter, Facebook and MySpace to see when a new question is posted. And did you know Kenny Hoyle is on Twitter too?

DON'T leave your answer here as a comment, go to the CONTEST PAGE!

Since yesterday was a travel day, I woke up exhausted this morning, as always. I ate my free breakfast, which consisted of toast, eggs, banana and a piece of cake, then sat and stewed in my room for a spell under the relative comfort of the ceiling fan. I ended up laying down again and falling asleep until about 5:00 p.m. I was so lethargic, I screamed, "I've fallen, and I can't get up!" then turned into a huge, human pancake, pleading with the Jolly Green Giant to scrape me up off the griddle with a giant spatula. Once I got going, I walked a half mile down to the 2500-year-old Botataung Pagoda, a big complex of Buddhist temples and shrines. The place is dominated by a huge, hollow, gold-covered chedi that contains the Buddha's First Sacred Hair Relic in the center of a pizza slice-shaped labyrinth.

The gold and mirror-tile-covered floors, walls and ceilings provide eye candy galore in a short yet dizzying walk. I even saw a young man who sat and meditated while facing into one of the narrow corners. In the center is the relic that supposedly contains an original hair from Guatama Buddha. The shrine that supports it and the floor around it are covered with piles of money tossed by the faithful. I took my chances on the rain-slicked ceramic tile that covers all of the compound outside, almost slamming a couple of times, to check out numerous other shrines, where small clusters of people prayed. During the walk to and from this place--through the roughest-looking shantytown you could imagine--the streets were flooded from all of the rain, and at least seven or eight different people smiled and said hi to me.

Here's the question for Thursday August 12th:
Kenny has a nickname given to him by his friends. What's that name?
(hint: It's a mix of his own name and another Altamont teamrider)

Submit your answer on the contest page and give us your info!

Everyday you'll have a chance to win a box with Altamont Apparel, DVS X Altamont shoes, Expedition One board, Venture trucks and Gold wheels.

Follow Altamont on Twitter, Facebook and MySpace to see when a new question is posted. And did you know Kenny Hoyle is on Twitter too?

DON'T leave your answer here as a comment, go to the CONTEST PAGE!

I began the day with one last lunch at May Kaidee's, which will have to tide me over for the next two weeks. (I don't know what I'm going to do without her world-class cookin' back in California.) Except for the driver, and a lady who may have been a holographic projection, I was the one and only passenger on the big ol' airport bus from Banglamphu to Bangkok's Suvarnabhumi, about an hour's drive away.I felt like a British aristocrat with a chauffer, or maybe even a butler. I was dumbfounded by the presence of a Thai hill tribe display in the middle of the airport--complete with three live, in the flesh women weaving traditional garments. I felt kind of stale standing there, just like all the other passers-by, snapping photos of those beautiful ladies trapped in some kind of strange human zoo.

The 90-minute flight--and immigration out of Bangkok, Thailand into Yangon, Myanmar--went smoothly. I bought a cup of noodles on the plane, expecting one of those dinky little jobs, when the flight attendant blew my mind with a huge, practically half-gallon-sized monstrosity that fully stoked me out since I was hungry as hell. At immigration, it's now pretty much standard for most countries to scan in your passport and take a photo of you. The lady that took mine had the cutest smile, which made me smile, and that in turn made her smile even more.

Unfortunately, I couldn't find a bus into the backpacker area of Yangon, which is about eight miles away, so I had to take a taxi for $5.00. He dropped me off at the Motherland Inn II hostel in the Southwest corner of town, where I managed to score a bed in a dorm room for $8.00. The girls who run it are all friendly and smiley, and the interior of this big, clean place stands in sharp contrast to the raw-as-hell streets and shacks just outside the front door. It's pretty much all bark and no bite, though, as a man pedaled by me when I went for a walk out in the gloom and said hi in the friendliest tone ever. Welcome to Myanmar!

Here's the question for Wednesday August 11th:
Kenny Hoyle has one all-time favorite basketball player. Who is that?
(hint: check out his new Twitter account)

Submit your answer on the contest page and give us your info!

Everyday you'll have a chance to win a box with Altamont Apparel, DVS X Altamont shoes, Expedition One board, Venture trucks and Gold wheels.

Follow Altamont on Twitter, Facebook and MySpace to see when a new question is posted. And did you know Kenny Hoyle is on Twitter too?

The whole Emerica team will be doing a skateboard demo and they'll be signing your arms, legs, faces and skateboard stuff. Or whatever you bring along!

Here's the question for Tuesday August 10th:
Kenny Hoyle misses 1 finger. Which finger is that?

Submit your answer on the contest page and give us your info!

Everyday you'll have a chance to win a box with Altamont Apparel, DVS X Altamont shoes, Expedition One board, Venture trucks and Gold wheels.

Follow Altamont on Twitter, Facebook and MySpace to see when a new question is posted. And did you know Kenny Hoyle is on Twitter too?

I woke up this morning just as the bus rolled into the Bangkok area. I was still bleary and hadn't yet put on my shoes or packed up a couple of loose things into my backpack when it suddenly pulled into a terminal, the name of which I couldn't see anywhere. I rushed to put on my shoes and get off the bus, but it only stopped for a minute or two. Then, as it proceeded into rush hour Bangkok traffic, I asked various other passengers and a couple of bus employees if they knew where the bus had just stopped and where it was going next, but none of them spoke English. They finally found a girl who spoke a little bit of it, and after a whole lot of slow talking and hand gestures, I realized that, thankfully, the bus was going to another stop in Bangkok near Siam Square.

When I disembarked there, a hotel security guard pointed me in the direction of Siam Square, but after I walked a quarter of a mile, I figured out it was in the opposite direction. I wonder if he was just clueless or if he was messing with me? Delirious, hot, sticky and sweat-soaked, I finally made it onto the air-con-blasted Skytrain, then into the cool breeze of the Chao Phraya river taxi. Luckily, Donna Guest House had a room available a little while after I arrived, where I took a much-needed shower and napped for a few hours. A delicious meal at May Kaidee's made things right again, followed by a little rest and relaxation at Santichaiprakan Park on the banks of the Chao Phraya river, where another big group of ladies rocked a super loud and ridiculous aerobics workout.

Tomorrow, I'm flying to Yangon, Myanmar. Internet access in that country is somewhat restricted, so I may not be able to post my Myanmar (or your Youranmar) updates until I return home to California in September. Thailand updates will resume in a couple of weeks when I return to Bangkok.

Although I only tasted a little tease of Chiang Mai, I'm going to miss this town, with its homegrown bookstores, vegetarian restaurants, cheap guesthouses, scenic temples and ruins, narrow alley atmosphere, and so much more. Even though part of it is really touristy, I really like the vibe here, and if I ever make it back to Thailand, I hope my next Chiang Mai visit is much longer.

After I woke up, I rode "my" bicycle a couple of miles North of central Chiang Mai to the Hill Tribe Museum. I figured since I didn't have time to go trekking to see the villagers in real life, I may as well make do with some dioramas! Much to my dismay, the building was closed due to reconstruction. Dang! At least I burned a few calories and sweat a couple of gallons. Next, instead of building an igloo to nap in, I did the next best thing and pedaled around the entire circumference of the moat that surrounds Chiang Mai's old town, snapping photos the whole way.

I was hyped to find a health food joint that served American-style smoothies, which are thicker than their Southeast Asian counterparts. The place even had free Internet on two computers. How 1998! After one last chow-down at May Kaidee's, I returned the mountain bike to the nice old lady with a big, weird lump on her left cheek, then picked up my backpack from Grace House, making sure to stuff it with a few homemade cookies from the rad, country store-like shop / cafe downstairs.

As a light sprinkling from above pelted my sweat-saturated shirt, I hiked through central Chiang Mai for a little while, missing the street toward the Arcade bus terminal, which standardly caused me to walk in a big, unnecessary circle. After I got back on track, I was about a third of the way through the 1.5 mile trek when I hopped onboard a mini-truck songthaew tightly packed with school kids and grandmas for the remaining mile. After I bought my ticket to Bangkok, I parked my hot, sweaty, soul-holding blob in front of a big fan and zoned out for a couple of hours.

Whenever I wasn't nearly falling asleep, I cracked up at the ticket clerk ladies who pitched fares in a more over-the-top manner than just about any hawker of any kind I've seen on this whole trip. Whenever anyone new entered the terminal, these ladies would project their tinny, Thai, sliding-pitched pleas for that person to purchase a ticket from their bus company at their window. One time, when a young man turned toward two windows right next to each other, each containing two clerks, a totally hectic verbal spar exploded as each pair of ladies tried to intensely persuade him to buy a ticket. It was so cutthroat! I was stoked that I managed to record a few minutes of them in action.

The bus finally pulled out of the terminal around 9:15 p.m. I unwittingly chose a different bus company for this return trip, featuring an older coach with a big ol' honkin' TV monitor from the '80s. No movie played, the driver left the bright overhead lights on for over an hour, and the music played all night. How do they expect anyone to fall asleep?

The road between Chiang Mai and Bangkok is a divided highway with two lanes in each direction. Except for the three-foot wide shoulders and occasional blown-out patches, it's pretty much built to United States standards. Too bad that some sections of the Northbound lanes were closed, with their traffic coned over to our side. That meant occasional bouts of Java-style bus-drivng insanity, including extreme tailgating and treacherously dangerous passing into the path of quickly approaching trucks and swerving back into our lane at the last possible nano-second.

It was edited pretty much all overnight. Thanks Robert!

Here's the question for Monday August 9th:
What city in California is Kenny Hoyle from?

Submit your answer on the contest page and give us your info!

Everyday you'll have a chance to win a box with Altamont Apparel, DVS X Altamont shoes, Expedition One board, Venture trucks and Gold wheels.

Follow Altamont on Twitter, Facebook and MySpace to see when a new question is posted. And did you know Kenny Hoyle is on Twitter too?

Theotis Beasley skated this afternoon in the am finals, and ended up in third place. This also earned him $300. Nice one Theo!
Backside flip down the triple set.

Garrett Hill skated tonight in the pro finals and ended up in 12th place, which got him $1500 too. Nice one Garrett.
POP shuvit out of the bump to flat.

Here's what Keith wrote us when we asked him to email us the photo:

"Whats going on Altamont! I got this tattoo, not only to represent the best company in the game, but to represent a lifestyle. A counter culture lifestyle, I'm putting on for people that are willing to stand up for change! : ) I would elaborate more but Im kinda at work : / hahaha!
Keep up the awesome work and keep pumping out those threads!!

Thanks for the dedication and love Keith, we'll be sending you a box with some fine Altamont threads soon.
Do you have a tattoo or anything else you want to show us?
Email us at connect@altamontapparel.com!

Some people go bar hopping, but I go temple hopping. After fueling up at May Kaidee's Chiang Mai location, I stopped by a small Buddhist temple that was under renovation, featuring one gold Buddha in front backed up by three big white ones. There were no Roman characters on the temple's sign, so I have no idea what it was called. There are over 300 temples in Chiang Mai, roughly the same number as in Bangkok, which is a far bigger city, so it was no big surprise when I bumped into another one just down the street. Called Wat Phabong, it featured an amazing gold chedi and a small but very intricate temple.

Next and most spectacular was Wat Phra Singh, Chiang Mai's most visited Buddhist temple, the main building of which is dominated by a huge golden Lion Buddha situated behind other smaller ones. Several additional buildings encase more shrines, including a quad version with one Buddha on each of the four sides, and a funny small reclining Buddha about 30 feet long. As I wrapped up my photo session and got ready to leave, I heard some amazing group singing emanating from the main temple. I stepped back inside and witnessed a small ocean of young, orange-robed, novice Buddhist monks engaged in a prayer ceremony. I recorded a few minutes of it on my iPod touch, then shot some photos. When an old monk launched into a long lecture, I made my way out for some more sightseeing around town.

I happened upon another temple near my room called Wat Lam Chang, where I noticed a group of teenage boys setting up some instruments, including two xylophones, two horns, a hand drum and a circular Burmese gong instrument. I whipped out my iPod and earbud mic as fast as I could and pressed record a few seconds after they launched into a 15-minute-long traditional Thai music jam. The hand drum supplied the main pound as the xylophones pecked out intricate melodies and the horns wailed a delicious, raspy icing all over the top. The name of the group is Wat Lam Chang Vieng Phing, and they get together a few times a week to practice for performances at temples, street fairs and other venues.

I was hella impressed by their music, which was very vivid and full of life. I was bummed that a few minutes into recording, I got an itch on my eye and had to wipe sweat off of my face. If I moved around too much, it would make a rustling sound on the little earbud mic. I managed to ignore those discomforts until the 10-minute mark, then I stopped to take care of them. Now I'm kicking myself for not recording the whole jam. When the band took a break, I started talking to a young, 22-year-old Buddhist monk named Nawa from Vientiane, Laos, who is living at the temple and attending university.

We chatted for at least an hour while the band played another jam or two. I wish I could have recorded more of the music, but I didn't want to be rude to Nawa. We had a really nice talk; he was happy to answer all of my questions about the Buddhist lifestyle and he asked me about my own life, as well. He was super nice. After a while, it was time to head back to May Kaidee's, so I threw on my rain jacket and pedaled through a fierce downpour for dinner. This was one of my favorite days in Thailand so far!

Check out these 2 sequences he shot of Altamont's own Garrett Hill. Kickflipping into tricks got him 4th place in the qualifications, which means he will be skating in the finals on Sunday. Nice one Garrett!

To get more first hand lurk photos and updates from the Maloof Money Cup follow Altamont on Twitter, Facebook or MySpace!

A wonderful thing happened on the bus ride early this morning. Right before the bus stopped for food, the driver turned on the overhead lights and a lady who sat behind me tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the floor. I glanced down and there was my wallet. Luckily, all of my money--about $166--was still in it. I was fortunate that lady was so nice, as billions of other people would have scooped it up, for sure. (The only thing I keep in my wallet on this trip is a few days' worth of cash. All of my valuable cards, etc. are in my money belt.)

A guy who sat in front of me tried to recline so far back that his seat literally and physically touched my lap. I asked him to tilt it up two or three inches--especially since I had my backpack between my legs. (Certain busses between Bangkok and Chiang Mai are notorious for baggage theft. I doubted if this was one of them, though, as it departed from the bus station and not a tourist area.) The buffet joint we stopped at was all meat, so I had to settle for a bag of French fry-shaped potato sticks. A little while later, I finally got a little shut eye.

Around 6:00 a.m., the bus pulled in to the Arcade terminal, about two miles outside of central Chiang Mai. A guesthouse tout was on me as soon as I stepped off the bus, but I shut him down and walked around the terminal to look for a cheap way into town. I was surprised to see that the entire Internet was contained in a small kiosk there. It's quite impressive that microprocessors have shrunk that small and that Moore's law is still in effect! I finally found a mini-truck songthaew that dropped me off at the edge of town for 75 cents.

After I got my bearings, I hiked through a drizzling rain a half mile up to Grace House, where I rented a room for $5.00 per night. True to form in this price range, the walls are dirty and covered with sketchy drippy stains, but other than that, the place is fine. The shower didn't work, though, so Grace moved me into another room, and there was some construction noise across the street, which, luckily for me, became inaudible as I fell into a deep, daytime slumber.

I woke up around 4:00 p.m. and rented a mountain bike to cruise around Chiang Mai. It's a very picturesque town that still maintains remnants of its bohemian past amid some inevitable gentrification. Scores of tour operators offer treks up into the mountains, some to visit hill tribes, while others hike out into the jungle, go river rafting or take elephant rides. The central area of town is surrounded by a moat and the ruins of a large brick wall built around 1300 AD for defense against the Burmese. I tooled around it for a while and stopped for a visit to two Buddhist temples: Wat Sai Mun Muang and Wat Thung Yu, where a small group of Buddhist monks held a prayer service complete with beautiful singing, which I recorded a little snippet of.

I pried myself away from the creature comforts of Donna Guest House and May Kaidee's vegetarian restaurant for a trip up to Chiang Mai in Northwest Thailand. My journey started around 3:00 p.m.--just in time for rush hour! I took a circular but at least continuously moving route around Bangkok via the Chao Phraya river taxi, Skytrain and a city bus to Bangkok's Northern bus terminal. All of these conveyances were toe jam-packed with the maximum amount of human-sized sardines allowed by law on this side of Charlie the Tuna's house.

The Northern bus terminal is a huge place with umpteen people taking up all of the chairs, sitting along the walls and even outside on a small lawn. Plenty more milled around inside the air-con-blasted innards while others patronized the ubiquitous 7-Eleven and several food stalls that served up crummy, cold buffet food. At around 8:00 p.m., I walked outside into the loading area: a huge, hot, fume-filled place with at least 100 gates and several hundred double decker tour busses at any one time, many of which looked quite colorful and festive--both inside and out.

I was assigned an aisle seat in row two up on the top level. A Buddhist monk sat in the front row diagonally across from me. A few moments after the bus started rolling, a DVD came on. It was an over-the-top Thai gross-out comedy / horror flick that seemed to go on forever and a day. I kept wondering what the Buddhist monk made of all the slapstick violence and humor that ranged from crude to downright morbid. It was hard to tell from my angle, but it looked like he might have glanced at the movie a bit at the beginning, but later he definitely stared out the front window. Maybe he was meditating. In an odd twist of synchronicity, a Buddhist monk character showed up later in the movie.

Check out Kenny's contributor profile and start digging up some old interviews in the various skateboard magazines. Google Kenny to get some more info about him. Any info will increase your chances to win this box!

Every morning (PST) we will put up a question that you can answer. Come back on Monday (and Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday) morning and you might have a box show up at your house very soon!

I returned to the Grand Palace to visit the the Royal Thai Decorations and Coin Pavilion, a ticket to which was included with my original admission. This place boasts a pretty big collection of heirlooms from Thailand's royal family, including insanely ornate, jewelled golden crowns, clothing, rings, weapons, medals and much more. My favorite display contains the original three golden outfits that the Emerald Buddha wears for each season in Thailand: Summer, rainy and cool. In fact, the King himself changes the Buddha's outfit in a somber ceremony at the beginning of each season. The whole concept strikes me as really amusing. Too bad there's a no photography rule!

At one point before I saw the Emerald Buddha outfits, I tried to sneak a photo of a sword, but each display is encased in curved plexiglass, which creates a million different reflections and makes photography impossible. A guard busted me trying to take a pic anyway and made me delete a photo that I didn't even take! The last room of the museum examines the history of Thai currency throughout the past several centuries, mainly focusing on coins. There are some really finely detailed pieces on display, including oddly shaped money that looks like a big lump of metal etched with rad artwork. Imagine carrying around a pocket full of those cumbersome things!

When the museum closed, I walked a half mile under the bright sun back to May Kaidee's. Right when I sat down, I glanced out front into the alley and it looked like night had already fallen, although it was only 4:30 p.m. Needless to say, another bunch of rain descended upon Bangkok, although this sprinkling was much mellower than yesterday's downpour. I accompanied Noi to a really upscale shopping mall a couple of miles away, where she bought some stylish new prescription glasses. Later in the evening back at May Kaidee's, May herself entertained a big group of French students with a buffet and a little traditional Thai dance.

After an hour or so of scouring the Web, I located an Air Asia office in Bangkok--exactly one block from my room. Doh! I finally booked my flight to Yangon, Myanmar for next week. I'm so excited! The whole process of obtaining the visa and flight "only" ate up at least four afternoons! But, it was well worth it, because I'm sure Myanmar will be a highlight of the whole Tropical Punch Tour, as long as I don't get bit by Mr. Malaria-Filled Mosquito.

As usual in Southeast Asia, a nice, sunny afternoon got suddenly obliterated by a crazy downpour. The weatherman must have it pretty easy down here: "Today's outlook calls for sunshine with some completely punishing scattered showers. Back to you, Bob." The TV station could just play the same clip every day to avoid having to pay a salary to an actual weatherman. No one would even notice.

A friendly Thai man in his early 50s randomly started talking to me as we--and all of Bangkok--cowered under a roof during the downpour. Born in Chiang Mai (a town I hope to visit), he is a car insurance salesman, and has lived in Bangkok since he was 15. I told him I was looking for a Bangkok bus schedule, so he dragged me way down the street to a tourist office. (The only reason I went along is because he seemed benign.) We made it halfway there under awnings and roofs, but had to wait at a bus stop shelter for 15 minutes when the cats and dogs started coming down in buckets. A couple of young military men were there in full uniform. I asked what they were doing, and my new friend said they were keeping an eye out for red shirts. After a little while longer, we ran the last half-block to the tourist center, where I was dismayed at the sky-high price of the maps. I declined to buy one. When I walked outside, my buddy was gone forever.

See and hear Patrick talk about his introduction to skateboard magazines, his jobs at Thrasher and Vice, his camera gear, his best photos and more.

I took the day off to do some research on Myanmar so I can figure out when I'm going to fly in and out of that country. Enjoy a few photos.

I picked up my visa from the Myanmar embassy today. I was so stoked I got the green light, because it can be a somewhat difficult country to enter, as it's under the control of a military regime. I just walked around and shot photos for the rest of the afternoon. Subjects included heavy rain on the Chao Praya river, motorcycles riding down the sidewalk (as always), hordes of humans under umbrellas battling a downpour and other random street scenes.

The river taxi stops running at 7:00 p.m., so I jumped up on the Skytrain and rode it to Siam Square, where I boarded bus number 15 and got caught in the most ludicrous traffic jam ever. The bus absolutely sweltered as it sat in one place without budging an inch for a good 20 or 30 minutes. My legs were so tired, I had to sit in the front stairwell because all of the seats were taken. Then it was stop and go for a while until we made it out of Siam Square. Bangkok traffic jams are serious business.

I returned to my usual spot, May Kaidee's, for dinner. Two ladies who work there, Noi and Pon, told me they were going out dancing after work and invited me along. So, we climbed into a cab and rode over to a local nightclub. As soon as we walked through the door, my eyes, ears and mind got blasted by a ladyboy cabaret in full swing. This is not exactly what I was expecting! Non-stop sing-alongs and dance routines in flamboyant costumes were on prominent display--complete with a live band! The place was packed full of young Thais--both men and women--in their 20s, who were all smiles and having a grand time. And ain't that what it's all about? It may seem rather strange to your average straight Westerner, but gay and ladyboy culture is widely accepted in Thailand.

Here are a few sneak peaks, get the magazine for more!

And besides the tour article FOS also wrote an article about the Osaka Daggers, his favorite skateboard crew in Japan led by Chopper. Read the full article in the magazine, here is once again a sneak preview.

Thanks again to the great people at Color magazine and co-curator Isaac McKay-Randozzi for the cover and the sneak peaks.

I slathered on some sunblock, threw on my hat and ventured out into the punishing afternoon sun for a visit to Wat Phra Kaew, also known as the Temple of the Emerald Buddha. It's Thailand's Taj Mahal and the holiest temple on the country, housing the biggest and most over-the-top intricate golden shrine I've ever laid eyes on. Although the 500-year-old Buddha at the top is, ironically, quite small, it's held in such high esteem that it draws devotees from all over Thailand. The Temple of the Emerald Buddha is accompanied by several other spectacular buildings inside a big compound, including the Royal Mausoleum, Porcelain Vilhharn, Supplementary Library, Prangs, Royal Pantheon, Phra Mondop, Phra Si Ratana Chedi, and even a scale model of Cambodia's biggest temple, Angor Wat.

Every square inch of this compound--inside and out--is completely smothered with such a crazy amount of glitz that it makes any building in Las Vegas look like a rusty old tool shed. That seems kind ironic coming from a religion that espouses such an austere lifestyle. Many surfaces are bathed in dried liquid gold and peppered with a seemingly infinite number of colored and mirrored tile, and the whole enchilada is surrounded by four walls covered with intricate murals depicting the epic tale of good vs. evil, the Ramayana, in gold-highlighted detail.

Wat Phra Kaew closed at 4:30 p.m., so I crossed the street and sat on a bench in a little park, where I tried to beat the heat by eating a chunk of pineapple from a food cart. Suddenly, the most pushy hawker of all time tried to force upon me some little plastic bags of corn to feed the pigeons. I politely refused, then he put a few bags on my leg anyway. I waited a few seconds for him to remove them, then I just sat them on the ground. He kept badgering me, so I yelled, "No!" and he finally stalked off to his next victim, a European tourist family.

A couple of the teenage family members fed a few bags to the pigeons, then a short while later, a shouting match over the amount of payment broke out between the hawker and two men from the family. I'm sure he was trying to make them overpay. I knew that guy was bad news, which is why I avoided him from the very beginning. It was pretty sad that such a pleasant activity as feeding pigeons had to turn so sour. Other than that, this was a fine day of sightseeing.

Another slow start turned into a semi-day off. I began it right with a stop at May Kaidee's for a meal that served as breakfast and lunch. But don't call it brunch, because it was early afternoon. After I got my blogs up to date, I took a much needed nap then returned to May Kaidee for a really mouth-pleasing evening buffet accompanied by several rounds of traditional Thai dance. Now, this is the kind of dinner theater I can get into! If you're ever in Bangkok, definitely stop by May Kaidee's, located in the alley behind the Burger King (ironically) at the East end of Thanon Khao San in Banglamphu.

I heard that the next alley over from my room at Donna's Guest House is home to a whole row of vegetarian joints, so I skipped myself over there like a stone. The first one I stumbled upon, May Kaidee, whipped up an unassuming-looking bowl of tofu, vegetables and rice that knocked my socks off and turned them into a necktie that I re-gifted to the King of the Universe. No, really, this was the most delicious meal I had eaten since my two weeks of taste bud aerobics in Bali. Not surprisingly, May offers cooking classes at her two restaurants in the area.

Since I got such a late start, I had to see some sights close by. So, I walked a half mile over to Wat Pho, which is merely the oldest temple in Thailand, built in the 17th century, and home of the largest and most beautiful reclining Buddha in the country. Although this gold-coated 140 foot long colossus is indeed grand, it's a major forehead-slapper that almost all of the tourists completely ignored the rest of the awe-inspiring Wat Pho compound, which is dizzyingly dotted with insanely detailed chedis, halls, pagodas, spires, statues and much more, many of which are completely covered with multiple-colored and even mirrored tile for an over-the-top ornate viewing experience. It's safe to say that Wat Pho is the first temple I've encountered that rivals the most exquisite ones I saw on Bali.

Don't miss Tropical Punch Tour: Thailand Part 15, as I just posted it today.

On Saturday August 21st you get a chance to show your skills. In 4 different age division for unsponsored riders, and a sponsored riders division everyone that wants to enter gets a fair chance.

Altamont will be giving away $1000 in apparel, as well as some super limited Altamont X Baker skateboard for everyone in the top 3 of each division. Click on the flyer for more info and of keep an eye on the Skatepark of Tampa website.

I jumped on the water taxi again and headed South, shooting photos of the picturesque shanty towns that jut out over the banks of the Mae Nam Chao Phraya. (I missed them yesterday because I was on the other side of the boat.) Chips Ahoy! Back on dry land, I dropped off my visa application form and photos at the Myanmar embassy, and the clerk told me to pick them up at 3:30 p.m. on Monday, which was a bummer, because I was hoping to the next day, Friday, so I could book a flight.

Next came a lunch stop back at Krua Aroy-Aroy, where I sipped a bowl of tasty veggie soup, followed by a visit to Sri Mariamman Temple directly across the street. The atmosphere inside this Indian place of Hindu worship was absolutely incredible. A recording of a solo female singer intoning a simple, mesmerizing melody over and over accompanied by the drone of a sitar functioned as the base for a whole cornucopia of sounds: brusque announcements over a bullhorn, motorcycles brapping by, people talking and walking about, shaking cannisters full of incense sticks.

Clouds of flavorful incense smoke wafted throughout the temple as one cluster of devotees after another brought in offerings of food and drink, dropped to their knees and prayed, clasping a handful of sticks and pointing them upward toward their favorite Hindu deities. It was all so entrancing that I recorded a few minutes of audio. I would have shot a little video, but there was a no photos rule, which I surreptitiously broke with a few still pics anyway.

The next form of musical amazent came a little while later while I was sitting and eating dinner at a food stall table. A little lady sauntered up with a small amp strapped to her torso, offering up another round of strange, hypnotic singing. I threw some change in her can and snapped a photo and a short video clip. I saw a lady like her in Yogyakarta, Java, but she disappeared into thin air before I could pay my bill and meet her. I hope to catch the lady here in Bangkok again so I can get a better photo. I recorded one last bit of intense sound from an unlikely source: a squeaky boat dock I discovered as I exited the river taxi. It sounded exactly like someone playing really good free improv on a reed. All told, this was one amazingly musical day.

I got flooded with novelty--almost literally--when I hopped on a river taxi and cruised down the Mae Nam Chao Phraya, Bangkok's main water artery, more popularly known as a wartery. It was quite a strange sight to behold clusters of gleaming high rises flanked by pointy temples and run-down shanty towns precariously perched on stilts out over the river's edge. I disembarked at the Saphan Taksin station about two miles South of Banglamphu, from where I walked down the road a ways to the Myanmar embassy to work on getting a visa.

I filled out the visa application, but, unfortunately, it required two photos, and the office was closing, which meant a return trip tomorrow to submit the whole kit and kaboodle. I moseyed on down a side street and got four photos made for $5.00, which is a good deal, as the same thing costs $20 back home. I wandered into a really fine yet inexpensive eatery called Krua Aroy-Aroy, where I devoured a delicious plate of Pad Pak Ruam Jay, better known as fried vegetables.

Then I took a long walk down a short pier, I mean Thalon Silom to Lumphini Park, home to a lake with duck-shaped peddle boats and scores of people--young and middle-aged alike--doing aerobics to odd Thai techno pop. There were two separate big groups of several dozen, each with their own music and leader egging them on with a clip-on mic. I had a field day shooting pbotos and videos of that.

I took a Skytrain back to the water and caught a river taxi back up to the Ratchawang stop, where I got off and walked around on a photo mission in Chinatown. I shot quite a few snaps of all the bright, pretty neon signs and hoped to chow down on some authentic Chinese food, but the only thing on offer from every food cart was meat. Then I got disoriented and couldn't figure out which way was North, so I ended up going back and forth up and down the same street three times, which wasted at least a mile and a half of walking.

I finally got it straight and made it back to Banglamphu, but I had been walking so much all day and my legs were so tired, I had to stop and rest a few times. I proceeded into the tourist zone to look for a Wi-Fi connection, but, oddly enough, most places don't have it, and the ones that do have a one-hour minimum for $2.00, which is really expensive, and it doesn't include regular Internet usage. After an hour of walking around in circles and asking 10 different shops, I finally found one that was reasonable.

Don't miss the most recent two Tropical Punch Tour entries, as I just posted them.

Tropical Punch Tour: Thailand Part 12
Tropical Punch Tour: Thailand Part 13

And yes, Andrew is indeed rocking the new Davis slim pant in khaki...

As I pried my eyes open this morning, the bus rolled into a giant tropical metropolis called Bangkok, Asia's own City of Angels. The nice girl who sat next to me for the whole trip looked at me studying my map of the city and asked where I was going. I told her the Banglamphu district, home of the cheap backpacker rooms. Unfortunately, we were heading for the Northern bus terminal, which is around eight miles away. For some weird reason, we didn't go to the Southern terminal, which serves Phuket and is only two miles away.

I was planning to hop on the Skytrain and ride it South five miles toward the city center and hopefully catch a bus the last two miles East to Banglamphu. The girl, whose name I never asked, offered to spilt a tuk-tuk, a three-wheeled covered motorcycle cab, with me, as she was heading to the Skytrain, as well, to go to her job at an accounting firm. Like the bus drivers in Java, this tuk-tuk driver had a deathwish as he snaked his way through the most hectic traffic at a breakneck pace, zipping one way then another.

A few minutes later, he dumped us off at the Skytrain stop, where I frantically put on my backpack as the girl started walking up a flight of stairs. After she helped me figure out a local travel plan, we parted ways at the info booth. It was sweet that she was so concerned that I would make it to my destination. The Skytrain reminded me of Singapore, as it was packed full of young, well-dressed Thais on their way to office jobs. A few stops later, a Skytrain security guard asked me where I was going and directed me to a number 15 bus. I descended to the steamy streets below and jumped on the clattery old 15 bound for Banglamphu.

Even though I consulted my map during the whole two-mile ride, I couldn't figure out exactly where to disembark. I said, "Banglamphu" twice to the driver, but he ignored me. Then an old lady walked up from behind and told me to get off at the next stop. I did, and quickly found my way into Banglamphu from there. As soon as I entered the area, a young woman tourist from Canada asked if I was looking for a room. I said yes, then she recommended a clean, quiet place called Donna's Guest House in an alley nearby, where I rented a room for seven dollars and crashed for a few hours as soon as my head hit the pillow.

When I woke up at 4:00 p.m., I thought it was funny how I was aided by a seemingly non-stop chain of helpful humanity this morning. I went out for a stroll to get some food. The first street I walked down, Thanon Khao San, was the most over-the-top touristy street this side of Patong, Phuket. Fortunately, I made it out of there quickly and found a food cart where I got cheap Pad Thai and spring rolls for two bucks. That fueled a quick photo mission up and down an incredible 12 lane wide avenue called Thanon Ratchadamnoen.

Altamont contributor Garrett Hill has a bunch of stuff at The Berrics. First a Bangin', now a Text Yo'self. What's next?

And over at Black Box Garrett answers 10 questions. Read all about his ferret, his Zero buddy while on tour and much more!

Both photos by Black Box staff photographer Shigeo.

The Thai sky peed down rain all day, so I just lazed around inside Phuket Backpacker Hostel and wasted a few hours of my life watching bad TV. At 6.00 p.m. I strapped on my backpack and walked a mile down the street to the Phuket Town bus terminal, where I hopped on a multi-colored double-decker bus bound for Bangkok. Up on the top level, I put my backpack next to me, but seats were assigned and a lady ended up there, so I had to put it between my legs. She was really nice, though, and offered to let me put my right foot on her footrest, as hers barely reached down that far anyway.

For the first few hours, the bus made its way down a two-lane rural road, stopping quite often to pick up passengers from random spots and occasional little bus stops. The bus pulled over at a buffet / snack spot for a quick meal, where I was lucky fo find a serving of veggies on rice. Moving on, I spied so many food stalls out in the middle of nowhere that were inexplicably open in the wee hours. It seemed kind of crazy.

About a third of the way through the 13-hour trip, we pulled onto a four-lane divided highway with two lanes in each direction, which made for a more relaxed ride since Mr. Head-On Collision was pushed out of the picture. Although I fell in and out of love, I mean sleep from this point on, I'm pretty sure the bus didn't stop quite as often. But, to my surprise, it did make a second stop for food at another buffet joint where it was "all meat all the time," so I had to settle for a bag of potato chips. "Sweet dreams!" Mr. Potato Head whispered into my ear as I nodded off again with my head comfortably cradled by Mr. Inflatable Neck Pillow.

I took the day off to nap and catch up with my good buddy, Mr. Internet. Enjoy a few photos. Don't miss the past four Tropical Punch Tour updates, as I just recently posted them. I had an amazing time visiting the Phi Phi islands!

Tropical Punch Tour: Thailand Part 7
Tropical Punch Tour: Thailand Part 8
Tropical Punch Tour: Thailand Part 9
Tropical Punch Tour: Thailand Part 10

I woke up early again today to catch a 9:00 a.m. ferry back to Phuket. When I opened the front door, a big monkey was making its way down a flight of stairs about 10 feet away right in front of me. I had a meltdown in the hostel lobby when I learned that I had misplaced my return ferry ticket. While I dug through my backpack, a short but intense downpour soaked the island. Luckily, it stopped a few minutes later, so I marched down a half mile to the pier, where I hoped I'd be able to excavate the ticket, but no such luck was with me.

Instead of paying $10 for another ticket, which could pay for a night in a hostel and a meal, I decided to wait for the next ferry at 2:30 p.m. so I could turn my backpack inside out and hopefully find it. I walked over to a nice pavillion with big wooden chairs and tables overlooking Ao Lo Dalum bay, where I had hung out before. As I started pulling stuff out, I remembered that I had packed the ticket away inside a bag full of ephemera I saved from every country on this trip. I killed the next couple of hours with my friend Mr. iPod until I got the boot when a lunch crowd showed up to eat at the tables.

Then I munched on some cold buffet food and walked around the maze looking for some shade. I found it at Aoi's food stall, where she offered me a stool. I ordered a banana pancake, even though I was pretty full, and we had a nice chat about each others' lives for over an hour. She is 42, from Chumphon, about halfway between Phuket and Bangkok, and moved to Phi Phi eight years ago to work in the food stall. She experienced the 2004 tsunami firsthand and ran up a nearby hill to escape a date with a certain Mr. Grim Reaper, who claimed the lives of over 220,000 people on beaches throughout this side of the world with that little outburst. After 90 minutes on the sea, the ferry dumped me off back in Phuket Town, where a shuttle bus driver in hate with life dropped me off back at Phuket Backpackers Hostel. I went for an air con room for the max relax, then got invited to the annual staff party, where I chowed down on delicious free food while the ladies partied super hard and played musical chairs and some other games.

Since there's a pretty good chance I'll never travel through all of Southeast Asia again, I knew that if I left this area without snorkeling, I would kick myself when I got home, because some of the world's most beautiful aquatic spots are to be found here. So, at the crack of 9:00 a.m., I boarded a big boat with 20 other tourists and embarked on a lovely all-day snorkeling trip around both islands--Koh Phi Phi Don and Koh Phi Phi Leh.

The first stop on the itinerary was really just a cruise-by to view Viking Cave, where men climb up dangerously high, rickety bamboo scaffolding to collect bird's nests for use in Chinese medicinal soup. Our first actual swim went down at Loh Samah Bay, where we snorkeled from the boat across a really picturesque lagoon full of bright fish, rocks and corral to a big crevice set within a gigantic cliff face. We climbed up and over steep wooden stairs and sharp, painful rocks, followed by a short walk through a jungle, then finally emerged into the larger Maya Bay, where a movie called The Beach starring Leonardo DiCaprio was filmed in the late 1990s. The success of that movie brought worldwide attention to both Phi Phi islands and, unfortunately, helped turn them from a low-key, rustic backpacker haunt into a major tourist mecca.

A mantle-crushing amount of humanity fresh off of large tourist boats filled every square yard of Maya Bay's curved beach, which is composed of silky white sand and crystalline turquoise water. This absurd spectacle made it appear as if some sort of event was going on, but no, it was nothing more than a huge dose of some good ol' down home tourism. I tried snorkeling, but there wasn't really anything to look at other than sand. One of the kids who worked on my boat swam everyone's cameras over in a waterproof bag, but I couldn't find him for a while. By the time I did and shot some photos in Maya Bay, the crowd had thinned out a little bit.

As I swam back to the boat in Loh Samah Bay, I felt a little water enter my snorkel tube, so I panicked and ripped it out of my mouth so I could breathe some air. Then I discovered that the tube was missing. I was bummed because it was a rental and I'd have to pay to replace it. I looked all around the area above and below the water, to no avail. A few minutes after I sat down on the boat, another guy walked up and announced he had found part of a snorkel. Yay! It was mine. That was such an odd and unlikely coincidence, especially because he said it had floated pretty far away.

Next up came the small but spectacular Monkey Beach, where spider monkeys with incredibly animated faces devoured watermelon from tourists. The sand on this beach was composed of a very fine, white powder that, when it was wet, felt like clay. The water was clear as a bell, and the most brilliant shade of turquoise you could ever want or expect. Too bad I forgot my camera on the boat. Damn it! I was bummed. The snorkeling at this spot was very nice, as well.

A quick stop by Shark Point came next with a half-hour snorkel among some really odd-looking fish, including a really long, narrow, pointy one. I never did see a shark, though. As I swam back by the boat, someone threw some crumbs of food into the water, which caused a feeding frenzy among a school of small, yellow and green fish. I swam right through the melée as thousands of them formed an intensely colorful cloud in front of and all around my body, filling me with joy.

The best spot came last today as we took a several-mile cruise out to Bamboo Island for a one-hour visit to another tropical dream. This reef offered the best snorkeling so far with incredible rainbow-hued fish and bizarre creatures that looked like squiggly mouths and lived half buried in rock. Whenever I put my hand near them, they closed up like a shop. All of these lifeforms glowed with such a brilliant tropical irridescence that it was hard to take my eyes off of them.

His intricate and intense artwork first exploded in the early 1980s on toxic, genre-defining album covers and t-shirts for bands like The Misfits, Metallica, Prong, Cavity, Rush, Soundgarden, Dr. Dre, Cocobat and Dr. Octagon, as well as skateboard brands Zorlac, Conspiracy, Zero skateboards, and Thrasher magazine, to name but a few.

Still, Pushead is more than the iconic artist; in addition to being the singer and songwriter for legendary hardcore thrash pioneers Septic Death, he’s a record label owner and influential writer within the hardcore punk and thrash metal scenes. If there’s a lesson to be found in the trailblazing history and prodigious output of Pushead, it’s this: don't be afraid to reveal your inner person, because we're all made up of the same hardware inside.

For our Fall 2010 collection, Pushead contributed three entirely new and exclusive Altamont t-shirt designs.

"Altamont logo"

"Skull Twin View"

"Specimen"

Want to win one of these Pushead t-shirts? Simply follow Altamont on Twitter, become of fan on Facebook or befriend us on MySpace! Each day we will pick 3 winners. Contest ends August 1st.

twitter.com/Altamont

facebook.com/Altamont

myspace.com/Altamont

youtube.com/Altamont

Remember that time you told me to take a hike? Well, I finally did it today. I went on a nice, long, hella strenuous climb up the steepest stairs ever to the first of three viewpoints on Ko Phi Phi Don. This spot, which doubled as someone's house and a cold drink stand, offered a set of stone steps and wooden benches for a comfortable view of the twin bays. Another five-minute trek up a concrete walkway brought me to viewpoint two, another house / drink stand affair with picturesque boulders to sit on and take in a far superior view. A final 10 minute hike on a dirt trail through the jungle brought me to the third viewpoint at the highest point on this side of Ko Phi Phi Don. The view was nice, but everything just looked further away and off to one side. Viewpoint two was definitely the best of the bunch.

With my shirt and hat completely saturated with perspiration, I made my descent and got some grub at a food stall down in the isthmus maze. One of the ladies who worked there, named Aoi, flirted with me big time, asking me all kinds of questions about myself with a big smile on her face the whole way. A while later when I was just walking by her stall, I smiled and pointed my hat at her (I was carrying it), and she smiled and pointed a stick of corn-on-the-cob back at me. I went back later for dinner and another visit, but she had gone home for the day.

Just a quick reminder to RSVP if you would like to join us for our event tonite...please specify if you will be joining us for dinner or just the slide show at midnite as we only have a few tables left for the dinner portion of the party...

This time around we've got something extra special planned -
A Midnite Slide Show Extravaganza by The World Famous Ricky Powell!

Thursday, July 22nd at:

IL BAGATTO
192 EAST 2ND STREET
(BTWN AVE A & B)
NYC

Once again we'll be doing two seatings of our special menu "Family Dinner," one at 8:00pm and another at 10:00pm. As always drinks and dominoes can be enjoyed at the downstairs bar from 8:00pm until late!!

Seating is always extremely limited so please let us know as soon as possible if you will be able to partake in the goodness with us!

RSVP: whatsgood@wearethegoodlife.com

I woke up at the crack of sidewalk this morning and boarded a strawberry jam-packed ferry bound for an island 30 miles off the Southeast coast of Phuket, Thailand. Popularly known as Phi Phi (pronounced Pee Pee), it's comprised of two main islands called Ko Phi Phi Don and Ko Phi Phi Leh. The main island, Ko Phi Phi Don, measures roughly two miles by four miles, with most of the inhabitants situated around twin bays, Ao Loh Dalum and Ao Ton Sai, that are separated by an isthmus (a narrow strip of land, for all of you geography-challenged readers). The much smaller and uninhabited Phi Phi Leh is used only for day trips by divers, snorkelers and sun bathers.

The 90-minute ferry ride from Phuket to Phi Phi Don was refreshing, as a cool breeze blew across the water. A fellow traveler from Germany named Thomas asked if I'd like to split a bungalow with him for $8.00 per night, each. I thought it over for a minute and, of course, said yes. That's a good deal, especially on Phi Phi. As we approached the island, the tall, dark and dramatic limestone cliffs came into prominent view as we glided into the brilliant blue water. A nice man from the Ingphu bungalows greeted us at the pier and drove us on a really tiny mini-truck to our bungalow through a maze of little alleyways filled with touristy shops and bars.

The bungalows are situated on the side of a really steep hill that requires a lung-bursting climb up winding, treacherously uneven stairs. The hostel even has a luggage lift set up on a 50 degree angle track so you won't kill your back. Once Thomas and I settled into the bungalow, we went our separate ways. I left for a shuffle around the twin bays. Even though it was a partially overcast day, both of them looked amazingly beautiful with their crystal clear water and vertical cliffs. I kicked off my shoes and went for a wade in the warm water while small clusters of humans sat in circles under the shallow bay's turquoise icing.

For a really late breakfast, I ordered two banana pancakes down by the dock. As I picked them up, I dropped one on the ground (luckily, it was in a bag), and the other smeared a big, greasy mess all over the front of my shirt. I was really bummed, because it cost $35 and was made especially for hiking, with long sleeves, sun protection and moisture wicking, yet it's still light and breathable. (I mentioned the price because before I bought the gear for this trip, I had never spent more than $15 for one piece of clothing in my whole life.) I went back to the room and scrubbed the stains with some liquid detergent. Since I woke up so early to catch the ferry, I thought I'd catch 39 or maybe 40 winks for an hour or so. I finally woke up three hours later right around sunset, which sucked, because I was thinking about going snorkeling. I went out for dinner instead and walked into seven or eight different Internet cafes, but none of them had Microsoft Picture Manager, so I couldn't post an update.

I hopped on a songthaew and headed west across Phuket island to spend the afternoon down at Karon, a few miles South of Patong. I actually wanted to go to Krata, which is just South of Karon, but I missed it because I didn't know where to get off. So, Karon it was. I took a nice, lengthy stroll down the wide, powdery tan shoreline because, you know, I enjoy long walks on the beach. A fine band of miniscule plastic litter in the form of lighters, bottlecaps and the like marred the waterline; and the broad expanse of sand between that and the road was filled with larger bits of trash like plastic bottles, cans, sandals, etc. You might think that the city or at least all of the resorts around the area would keep the beach clean to impress tourists for good word-of-mouth, but no. (Even if the tourists were the culprits.) If you look closely, the beach looks like a garbage dump. Come on, Karon, get organized and clean up your beach! Despite the litter problem, the place still looked beautiful enough to compel me to take off my hiking boots, pull up my pants and wade in the warm sea. The water and the sand right by it were gorgeous. I wanted to go swimming so bad, but there was no place to put my valuables.

I walked back North on the coastal road past a bunch of resorts toward town. Karon is pretty much a smaller, slightly mellower version of Patong. I arrived there around 4:00 p.m. so I wouldn't miss the last songthaew. After about a half hour, one finally showed up, but I almost missed it because I was faced away from the street, throwing away some trash--in a garbage can, mind you. I had to yell at the driver twice before he stopped. After a couple of miles, we pulled into Krata, which made me suspicious, so I asked if he was going to Phuket Town. He said he wasn't, and pointed toward a songthaew that was. At 4:30 p.m., a driver fired that one up and cruised through Krata super slow, constantly beeping the horn and looking for more fares, which got pretty annoying. I know these guys have to make a living, but damn. It also sucks that they stop running so early, and those bench seats get really uncomfortable after a half hour or so. Getting constantly jostled from side-to-side whenever the driver stops or starts is also exhausting. But, at least songthaews serve as an economical form of transport around the island during the daytime.

We liked it so much that the message was chosen to be the email of the day. Read it, laugh and learn.

"I have no envelope right now so I gotta beg for stickers here. It says interesting message so I'll tell you a story. So one time I had some delicious Italian food and went to hang out with some girls, one of whom I really liked. I'm hanging with her and my stomach gives me the worst pain ever.

I knew I was about explode fecal matter everywhere so I peaced and ran home across town. Then as I get near my house, I pass the football field with a bathroom. I open the door and shit all in my pants. I had to ditch my boxers and socks cause it leaked to my feet. I ran home and while running, I pass the girl I liked who was heading to my house at that moment to see me, I run by and yell "See you in 15 minutes!".
I hauled ass to my house and I shit my brains out (i have no clue how i still needed to shit after the poo explosion at the football field). I then change clothes and hangout with the girl. I asked her out that day and she said yes.

So to recap, I shat my pants and got the girl. Booyah!"

Thanks for the educational message Ed. From poo in your pants to a girl in your hands! An envelope with stickers will be in your mailbox soon. Thanks for sharing.

I was low on cash today, so I looked around for a bank that charges the lowest commission to cash traveler's checks. After comparing three, I realized they're all the same. It's always a good feeling to be flush with local cash again. Since I got such a late start, I decided to just continue my photo mission around Phuket Town from the night before. I started out at a small Chinese Buddhist temple called called Saeng Tham, tucked away behind Southwind Books. Also known as the Shrine of Serene Light, it was filled with the recorded sound of a buddhist monk singing accompanied by a gong and a whacky Chinese movie playing on a small TV. The juxtaposition of sound was so striking, that I couldn't help but record it.

Next, I dropped by the Phuket Thaihua Museum, which puts on handsome display the history of the Chinese in Phuket, many generations of whom worked in the tin mines over the past several centuries. (Since the 1980s, that industry has been replaced by the tourism trade.) Too bad the displays weren't lit up because of remodeling, but I drew a circle A on my forehead and looked at them in the dark anyway. Last but not least, I bagged a couple of more Chinese Buddhist temples, including Jui Tui, which is situated right next to Put Jut, and the Thye Guan Tong Shrine. I love relaxing within the peaceful, incense-smoked atmosphere in these places of worship, and all of the statues, carvings and paintings are amazing to behold.

I figured out that there is a songthaew that goes directly from Phuket Town to Laem Singh, a really scenic beach I've been wanting to check out on the West side of the island, so I hopped aboard, and about an hour later, got dropped off on the side of a curvy rural road in a jungle overlooking the ocean. To access the beach, I had to clamber down a really rustic set of dirt stairs, each one of which is supported by scrapwood. My hiking boots really came into play there. Just as I took my first step onto the sand, a tout tried to lure me into a bar / restaurant hut right there. "Maybe later," I replied, as I sauntered off in search of a little pinch of paradise. I didn't exactly find it. I've since figured out that Phuket's water shows off its famous clear turqoise color only in the serene season from November through March. The months of April through October welcome the monsoon season, which totes along a ton of baggage in the form of rain and rough, murky waters.

I took a stroll around the cove and sat on some big ol' boulders for a while and watched the roiling sea ceaselessly batter the beach. This place is really pretty, and must be overwhelinvly so during the other half of the year. A couple of dozen tourists soaked up some of the sun's ultraviolet rays and braved the pounding surf for a frolic. As I made my way back toward the dirt stairs, another guy verbally pulled me into a wide hut, where I ordered a banana pancake that was thicker than a thunder thigh. After that thing made it's way into my gut, I made my way toward the trailhead, which took me three walks up and down the cove to find, as it's really hidden away behind two huts. After I climbed up the ultra-steep stairs, I was about a gallon of sweat poorer, so I bought a bottle of water from a lady in a little wooden stand up beside the road.

The driver who dropped me off earlier told me the last songthaew back to Phuket Town was at 4:00 p.m. because it was Sunday, so I arrived at 3:30 just in case it was early. The nice lady offered me a chair, so I sat in the shade by the stand for a few minutes and chatted with her, then as it got closer to 4:00, I stood right out by the road. As the clock ticked a quarter past 4:00, I figured no songthaew was on the way and that I was stranded, so I started walking down the winding road with jungle on both sides toward Patong, which is at least four or five miles away. I figured a taxi would probably stop, as they usually look for return fares, and sure enough, one beeped at me and pulled over a few minutes later.

The cabs here look like really tiny songthaews, but since they hold far fewer people, they're way more expensive. The ride to Patong cost about $3.25. For comparison, a ride twice as far on a songthaew only costs 75 cents. A moment after I hopped out of the cab, I waved down a songthaew bound for Phuket Town. I was lucky it was only 4:40 p.m. and I didn't miss the last one. Since it was still light out back in Phuket Town, I walked down the street from my hostel and shot some photos at Put Jaw Temple, a Chinese Buddhist temple, followed by a night walk photo mission around parts of town I hadn't been yet, where I captured some amazingly large and strange-looking buildings.

When I was getting ready to go out today, a couple of backpackers moved into the same room I was in. One of them looked really familiar. I had a hunch I had seen him at some point on my trip already, and when I asked him if he had been to the Inn Crowd hostel in Singapore, sure enough, he confirmed it. They're from Holland and have so far visited Bali, Java, Singapore and Malaysia just like me. Apparently, they are on a Tropical Punch Tour of their own.

It's not really that surprising to see the same backpackers in different cities or even countries, as there is a common route through Southeast Asia known as the Banana Pancake Trail. Speaking of the Tropical Punch Tour, when I looked at the calendar, I realized it's time for you to pin a medal on my shirt and throw some confetti over me, because, as of today, the tour has reached the halfway point. Yay! That leaves seven whole weeks of amazing sights and sounds to come.

Since there were no buses around when I walked outside, I hopped on a songthaew bound for Patong. These contraptions are a source of entertainment all in themselves, with the myriad characters who hop on and off. Songthaew are really flatbed trucks that have been converted into funky buses with a colorful paint job on the outside and three benches running parralel down the whole length of the bed that force a sideways-jostling endurance test upon even the most stout travellers. When all three benches get full, which is most of the time, it gets kind if crazy when the driver careens around corners or slams on the brakes. It looks and feels like a big truck full of human cattle heading straight to the slaughterhouse.

I walked around Patong and tried to find a bicycle to rent so I could pedal up four miles North to scenic Laem Singh beach, but the only thing on offer was motorycles. Given the desperation for money in this town, it's really strange that no one rents bicycles. What a missed opportunity! Back in Phuket Town, I ordered another plate of stir-fry for dinner, and since it was kind of small, I gorged on a follow-up meal of garlic bread and French fries a bit later. Then I walked around and shot photos of some of the 19th century Sino-Portuguese shophouses that have been restored. Phuket Town is quite quaint, scenic and very walkable--despite the really narrow sidewalks. It's a welcome dose of real Thailand on an island chock-full of touristy spots.

For some odd reason, I woke up at 8:30 a.m., and not long after, I heard some live percussion music out in the street off in the distance. I was so excited! I hoped it was some kind of strange procession, but it turned out to be a parade of school kids that ranged in age from junior high down to wee little tots. The usual marching bands, majorettes, flag wavers and banner holders were well represented, plus many unusual costumes like traditional Thai, princes and princesses, cartoon characters and some surreal-looking outfits that were possibly based on a video game. It was a really long parade that stretched for many blocks, and it took a good 15 or 20 minutes to march on by. What an unexpected start to the day!

In the afternoon, I took a bus down to Patong, the most popular beach on Phuket. It's easily the most crass, commercial and cluttered tourist trap I've ever seen in my life, crammed chock-full of resorts, spas, restaurants, massage joints and souvenir shops galore. There are three or four moneychangers on every block, and even more ubiquitous than that are the huge heaps of electrical wires that haphazardly dangle from poles everywhere and look so dangerous.

Many businesses have touts on the sidewalk who try to lure you in, and there are massage parlor girls in short skirts and high heels who blatantly drum up business right out in front of tourist families. Other more conservative-looking ones give massages to tourists right out in the open on the beach. I was surprised that the sand was the standard tan color and the water was fairly murky. I thought this beach was one of the white-sand-and-clear-jade-water variety, hence its popularity. I guess not. Oh well, it still looked nice anyway. I jumped on the 4:30 p.m. bus back to Phuket Town, since, for some weird reason, the last bus is at 5:00 p.m. and I wasn't up for an expensive cab ride.

I know this is going to be a shocker, but since yesterday was a travel day, I took it easy and relaxed all afternoon in the Phuket Backpackers Hostel. This hostel might be the best I've stayed in yet. A nice coat of paint adorns the walls with cheerful colors, and all of the rooms, halls, stairs and--gasp!--the bathrooms are clean, even around the edges. Plus, there's free internet, TV, DVDs, comfortable couches (which is an extreme rarity in Southeast Asia), a kitchen and a bar down front. I started the day off right with a big, beautiful breakfast, including eggs, toast, two bananas and fresh-squeezed orange juice, at the hostel for only $2.00.

One of the first things I noticed when I started walking around Thailand is that almost every street sign, store sign and major product logo are written in the Thai alphabet. The Roman alphabet is only used in a secondary manner, if at all. Luckily, streets signs append the Thai alphabet with a smaller Roman version right underneath, or I would have a much harder time finding my way aroound. For a late lunch, I dined on a scrumpdillyicious bowl of veggies, tofu and rice at a really classy place called the China Inn that is disguised as a high-end antique shop out front. At night, I followed that up with a wander around the dark streets of Phuket Town, where I photographed a food cart bearing the carcass of a large animal, and a shrine to the King of Thailand. For dinner, I stumbled upon a crowded little eatery with no English in its title, where I savored a big bowl of curry noodles and leafy greens soup.

Beginning July 25, you'll be able to vote for the Fan Favorite before all 12 clips are shown on the X Games 16 TV broadcast Sunday, Aug. 1. A panel of pros will award $50,000 and a gold medal to the winner. Check and see his video part.

Also check out the interview the X Games did with Garrett and read for yourself why he wants to buy a Cadillac if he wins the $50,000 check.

I stopped by for one last lunch at my second favorite Kuala Lumpur food stall, located in a drab alley right off the main market in Chinatown. Yeah, the buffet-style food was only luke-warm, but it was full of at least 100 essential vitamins and minerals! Plus, the lady who works there cracked me up every day with the way she talked and her mannerisms. She was so adorable. Then that much-dreaded creature known as the Travel Day reared its ugly head. The express train to the airport was pleasant enough--silky smooth and fast as hell, covering the 30 or so miles in just 28 minutes. The only problem was once I arrived at the airport, I couldn't find an Air Asia counter anywhere to check in. A lady at the info counter informed me that I had to take a bus to another terminal 15 miles away! Is it just me, or do you also think it's kind of crazy that Kuala Lumpur's airport is divided up into two parts that are miles away from each other? There was no mention of this fact from the Air Asia ticket agent, the train ticket counter, my guidebook or anywhere else. After I made it to the other terminal, I was waiting for the plane to arrive when two young, blonde German ladies sat next to me. We didn't speak to one another, and it was a strange coincidence that when I went to sit down in my seat on the plane, there they were again, posted up right next to me! My, how odd.

Unfortunately, the only affordable flight was either super early in the morning, which was not really do-able for me, or late at night, so I chose the night version as the lesser evil. I made it out to the front of the airport in Phuket, Thailand at 9:15 p.m., a half hour after the last bus departed to Phuket Town, home of cheap backpacker hostels, 20 miles away. There was a mini-bus available for $3, but required a minimum of 10 passengers, and I was the only one waiting for it, as most other people go to resorts in other towns. I ended up splitting a taxi with a friendly young Thai man to Phuket Town for $10 each. The driver dropped me off at Phuket Backpacker Hostel, a really clean, nice-looking place. I was really lucky to get a bed in a dorm room bunk, because this is peak holiday season, and Phuket is one of the most popular tourist destinations in Thailand. After I showered and lay down in bed, I got a bunch of mosquito bites on my legs. Let's hope there's no Malaria or Dengue Fever here!

The stage has been set for the introduction of a new skateboarding classic from Emerica, directed by Jon Miner.

Check out this new teaser that was posted Emerica.com today.

Stay tuned for more information and details on the world premier of Stay Gold – The Emerica Video in Hollywood, CA this August along with global premiere dates and locations featuring the Emerica team.

Call your local skateshop and reserve your copy of Stay Gold – The Emerica Video today!

I made good use of my hat and sunblock today with a visit to the KL Bird Park. Billing itself as the world's largest free-flight walk-in aviary, it features a paved trail that winds through 21 acres of semi-natural jungle habitat dotted with funky concrete streams and waterfalls. In all, the park is home to over 3000 birds--some caged and some that fly free under a huge net that covers the whole place--from Southeast Asia and other tropical regions in South America, Africa and the Middle East. Some bird families represented included flamingos, hornbills, parrots, peacocks and too many more to even think about, let alone list.

At one point when a big ol' ostrich stared me down, it reminded me a little bit of a large, flightless, carnivorous bird called Phororhacos, and I was hoping for a sighting, until I found out it's been extinct for around 10 million years. Oh well, my bad. After I walked back to Chinatown, I ate at my favorite food cart, watched a really good movie about Johnny Cash called Walk the Line, then had one last hurrah at the cart again later at night and said my goodbyes to the fine feathered folks who run it. Come this time tomorrow night, I'll be in Thailand.

I spent the afternoon at the local sales office of Air Asia, waiting to book my flight to Phuket, Thailand. Luckily, it was a take-a-number kind of situation, because there were about 30 people ahead of me, and with just three windows open, only about 10 people per hour were being helped. I spent part of the three-hour wait strolling through a couple of nearby shopping malls, one of which was a dizzying, gigantic 10 floor affair, and sitting around outside reading up on some of the possible locations in Southern Thailand I may visit on the next leg of the Tropical Punch Tour.

After I paid for my airfare, I hopped on the Kl Monorail and cruised up to the Chow Kit market on the North side of Kuala Lumpur. I didn't intend to buy anything; more than anything else, it was just a grit and grime photo mission and an excuse to ride the KL Monorail again. It's so fun to look straight down and pretend that I'm flying like Mary Poppins over the pretty lights of the city streets. I ended the night chowing down a plate of delicious spicy noodles and a banana pancake at my favorite food cart on a steamy, crowded street out in front of the Red Dragon hostel. I've grown attached to this place, especially the cart, and I'm going to miss it.

Walking around all over town yesterday really wore me out, with all of the hustle and bustle, jostling crowds, traffic and chaos in general. So, I slept in really late today and just relaxed. Enjoy a few photos I shot in the evening.

The hallmark of Southeast Asian weather was on prominent display today. It started out as a scorcher and quickly detuned into a torrential cloud dump. Under the glare of the sun, the police caused quite a stir in the Chinatown market when they busted a few stalls for selling fake designer handbags. The cops threw all of the bootleg gear onto caged trucks, then completely dismantled the stalls and threw them on, too. I also saw a truck full of sellers getting hauled off to jail. It really baffled me that other stalls selling the exact same kind of stuff were left up and running.

I stepped down into the subway and let it whisk me off to the Malaysian Tourist Information Complex, where I heard there was supposed to be a dance show at 3:00 p.m. When I arrived, I was informed that it was actually at 8:30 p.m. on Saturdays, so I had over five hours to kill. I climbed up onto the KL Monorail, which looks like a stubby version of Disneyland's and offers a great view of the city, and rode over to Little India, where I hoped to take in some colorful sights and spicy grub. Oddly enough, I only saw one joint that sold Indian food, but I passed it up to see what else was available. As it turned out, not much in the way of food is to be found in Kuala Lumpur's Little India, unlike other cities' versions of this district, which are overrun with eateries.

Giant black clouds suddenly appeared above the skyscrapers of Kuala Lumpur and dumped a thick blanket of rain down upon the city. I ended up trudging on to the Masjid Jamek subway station, where a huge crowd milled around due to service disruption. I waited for a half hour, until an announcement was made that there would be no subway for several hours. So, I threw my rain jacket back on and walked over a mile through a super hard downpour, complete with thunder and lightning. I was thoroughly soaked to the bone and had to wring out my socks when I arrived at the Tourist Complex.

Although this show was also backed by recorded music, it was performed at a much nicer theater with excellent lighting, by a huge cast of 20 young, beautiful and energetic dancers. Around 10 different traditional Malaysian dances were performed with much joyous emotion by this large, colorful and exciting troupe. This show offered the 30 or so people in attendance eye candy galore. It was funny that in lieu of a printed program, an older woman announced all of the names and descriptions of the dances, sometimes after they had already started; and the whole shebang was proceeded by not one, but two Malaysian promotional films aimed at affluent tourists.

Don't miss Tropical Punch Tour: Malaysia Part 9, which I just posted today.

THE UNCOVERING

New Photography from Altamont contributor Boogie

Carmichael Gallery
5795 Washington Blvd
Culver City, CA 90232

July 10 – August 7, 2010

Opening Reception tonight!
Saturday, July 10, 2010, 7-9pm

Carmichael Gallery is pleased to present THE UNCOVERING, a powerful cross section of new photography by Serbian native Boogie. The exhibition comprises a series of limited edition silver gelatin, chromogenic and archival pigment prints whose thematic material considers the space, sensation and narrative depth between endings and new beginnings.

The exhibition will run through August 7.

Born and raised in the city of Belgrade, Boogie emerged as a documenter of Yugoslavia's civil war of the 1990s, capturing through his lens the realities of the violent rebellion that ransacked the nation around him. These early experiences shaped his intensely sober artistic voice and dark perspective of human existence. Upon moving to New York City in 1998, this attraction to hardship and chaos transitioned to a visual exploration of the streets and homes of Brooklyn, presenting gang members, prostitutes and junkies in an astonishingly honest, familiar manner. Subsequent journeys have taken him to cities such as Sao Paulo, Tokyo, Istanbul, Cuba, and Mexico.

THE UNCOVERING is both an extension and a departure from Boogie’s previous bodies of work, reflecting a new phase in his personal life and professional evolution. Having recently returned home to Belgrade for the birth of his son, his experimentation with new color palettes in several of his works engenders a potent sense of renewal. The vibrancy of these photographs enhances the dialogue initiated by the breathtaking black and white portraits for which he is more widely recognized.

Boogie’s reach in THE UNCOVERING is broad, but cohesive – images of vandalized property, storm clouds, public housing, youth and the elderly both stand alone and chronicle a more extensive, multi-layered story. As a photographer, Boogie is singular in his ability to remove his presence as the mediator between the subjects of his work and those viewing them from without. His illumination of the complexity of the human condition without the imposition of his own ego or ideologies presents a more compelling foundation for the contemplation of his weighty subject matter and the socio-economic, philosophical and emotional currents that press from beneath.

Boogie currently lives and works between Brooklyn and Belgrade. He has published five monographs: IT'S ALL GOOD (powerHouse Books, 2006), BOOGIE (powerHouse Books, 2007), SAO PAULO (Upper Playground, 2008), ISTANBUL (Upper Playground, 2008) and BELGRADE BELONGS TO ME (powerHouse Books, 2008). In addition to his work with Altamont, he has shot for many high profile clients and has been published in world renowned publications, including Time Magazine, The New York Times, Playboy, Rolling Stone, Flaunt, Vibe, Source, Maxim and PDN. Prior solo exhibitions have taken place in Paris, New York, Tokyo and Istanbul, however Boogie claims that his biggest achievement to date is being a father to Maya and Aleksandar, the two most photographed children in the world!

Our good friend and NYC local Alex Corporan got together with Andre Razo and Ivory Serra and they collected photos from over 60 photographers, documenting 30 years of skateboarding in NYC.

This is the cover of the book. Get it!

Currently there is an exhibition going on at Milk Studios in New York where you can get a look at a bunch of photos that are in the book. The exhibition ends on July 13th.

Milk Studios
450 West 15 St. (Corner of 10th Ave.)
New York, NY
Gallery time: 11am - 6pm.

I spent an enjoyable afternoon at Taman Rama Rama, also known as the Butterfly Park. The place looks like a giant backyard went hog wild and transformed itself into a lush, tropical jungle, complete with myriad foliage, fountains, ponds with goldfish and a net high overhead to keep all the butterflies from going AWOL. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of them flitting about, all feom Malaysia, and each on its own gentle yet chaotic course.

I captured a few good close-ups of some pretty colorful butterflies, including a friendly fellow that alighted upon my leg. There were also a bunch of aquariums filled with strange-looking lizards, turtles and fish; and a little museum filled with displays of mounted butterflies, moths, dragonflies, walking sticks, beetles and many other insects. Most of them were from Malaysia, Papua New Guinea, Thailand and Indonesia. Some of these critters were bigger than your hand and they looked amazingly weird.

At the stroke of 8:00 p.m. I took in a free show at an outdoor stage at the Central Market in Chinatown. It was similar to the one I saw at the KL Tower, even with the same dancers, which I pretty much expected, and really loud recorded music. Come on, Kuala Lumpur! Follow Ubud, Bali's example and play live music with your dance performances. It will sound better, and add even more emotion and authenticity to that which is displayed by the beautiful dancers. A pretty good size crowd of 50 to 75 people gathered to watch the short 20-minute performance, many of whom took photos with the dancers afterward. It was kind of funny that the photo session seemed to last longer than the dance.

Check out the brand-new Altamont Fall 2010 Collection, featuring:

Fucked Up for Altamont

For the Altamont Fall 2010 collection, Fucked Up contributed the creation of the cover and vinyl record for the catalog, as well as two t-shirt designs:

• F'd Up
• F'd Up Logo

Pushead for Altamont

For our Fall 2010 collection, Pushead contributed three entirely new and exclusive Altamont t-shirt designs:

• Altamont Logo
• Skull Twin View
• Specimen

Andrew Reynolds for Altamont

Products in the Andrew Reynolds Collection include:

• A.Reynolds Alameda Cord
• A.Reynolds Alameda Signature
• A.Reynolds Alameda Signature Five-Pocket
• A.Reynolds Pico Overdye
• A.Reynolds Signature Jacket
• A.Reynolds Signature Sweater
• A.Reynolds Wilshire Signature
• Frontier A. Reynolds
• A.Reynolds Beanie

Bryan Herman for Altamont

Products in the Bryan Herman Collection include:

• B.Herman Wilshire Signature
• B.Herman Signature Jacket 3
• Dead Men

Garrett Hill for Altamont

Products in the Garrett Hill Collection include:

• G.Hill Wilshire Slouch
• G.Hill Signature

Brian "Slash" Hansen for Altamont

Products in the Brian "Slash" Hansen Collection include:

• B.Hansen Wilshire Signature
• B.Hansen Signature Jacket
• League Above

Also, don't miss the loads of other brand-new denim, hats, hoods, jackets, knits, pants, shorts, sweaters, t-shirts and wovens in the Altamont Fall 2010 Collection! Choose your favorites right now and buy 'em down at your favorite local stockist.

I paid a very pleasurable visit to the Islamic Arts Museum Malaysia, a super-buttery modern establishment that opened in 1998--no homely, dusty old displays here! There's no doubt in my mind that Islamic art is among the most gorgeous, and this venue boasts a huge collection of it, not only from the Middle East, but also China, India and Southeast Asia. It also stretches several centuries into the past.

The first floor features an architecture section with scale models, photos and write-ups of the world's greatest mosques. There's also a Qur'an manuscript gallery full of insanely detailed handmade books, each page covered with gorgeous, glimmering gold. A section on India is highlighted by a nice collection of Mughal jewelry and weapons, plus attractive, colorful clothing and other textiles from Malaysia and China.

Up on the second floor, several whole sections take an in-depth look at arms and armor, featuring guns, swords, helmets and the like; as well as jewelry and more textiles. Woodwork is touched upon in the form of mosque furniture and decorations; and metalwork is represented by bowls, coins and personal adornment. Last but not least is a large collection of ceramic bowls.

Next, I squeezed into a jam-packed subway to make the obligatory pilgrimage to the Petronas Towers. These gigantic, twin silver spires shot forth into Kuala Lumpur's skyline in 1998, and remained the tallest skyscrapers in the world until 2004, when Tapei 101 in Taiwan stole their thunder. Serving as the headquarters for the Petronas oil empire, they're still the pride and joy of Kuala Lumpur, and, with their Islamic design elements, the Muslim world, too. No wonder the things are plastered on a majority of the postcards and t-shirts sold here. Wide promenades with fountains adorn both sides of the towers, where shiploads of tourists pose for photos. If you ever find yourself in Kuala Lumpur, you can't help but stop by the Petronas Towers and do the same.

photo by Matt Daughters

FYI; Kenny is rocking the Davis pants and the rolled 2 beanie, both a team favorite. Check with your local Altamont retailer to see if you can get some yo'self.

The charcoal grey sky dumped rain almost non-stop, so I took the day off to rest and get caught up with that dang World Wide Web. I ate an odd egg and tomato sandwich and French toast at a prim little Chinese restaurant. My taste buds were quite surprised to encounter peanut butter on the toast. My only rain jacket trek consisted of a leisurely stroll a few blocks away to the local Indian temple, Sri Maha Mariamman, which was undergoing a major renovation. The entire facade was hidden behind a huge thatched cover and the rest of the building was obscured under plastic tarps and scaffolding as dudes repainted all of the complex carvings and statues. The fact that they had stripped away all of the old paint was mighty impressive.

I made a donation at an incense-soaked shrine and nabbed a quick shot of three devotees who were standing there. Various other Indian men, women and children hung around for some services and grub. On my way out, one of them offered me free white rice, sweet brown rice and garbanzo beans on a palm leaf, which I happily ate with my fingers like they did. As I put my shoes back on at the front door, I couldn't help but think it odd that the temple is in Chinatown instead of Little India. This is a shining example of Kuala Lumpur's multi-cultural landscape, which mainly consists of Muslim, Indian, Chinese and Malays. Later, as I ate dinner at a Chinese food stall, Glen Campbell came on singing "Rhinestone Cowboy," which strangely recalled a live, cheesy cover version of the same song I heard at the Geographer Cafe in Melaka a few days ago. I hadn't heard that song in decades before that, so it was strangely synchronous to hear it twice. Actually, three times, because someone ended up playing it again at the food stall. How normal.

A mini-drama unfolded today. I lost my hat! That may not sound like much to you, big guy, but it was a big deal to me, because it's a safari hat especially for trekking, made out of fabric that is light and breathable with sun protection and a Coolmax headband to keep the sweat off of my face. I'd most likely not be able to find a similar replacement down here, and any other thick safari-type hat would be oppressively hot.

I checked all of the places I stopped yesterday--7-Eleven, the Old China Cafe and even a juice stand where I bought a really sweet strawberry yogurt drink. No one saw it. Then I remembered that I may have tucked it between my backpack and its rain cover. Sure enough, that's where it turned up. I was so stoked, I felt like doing the happy dance.

I then walked straight out under the sun and into the edges of the Muslim world of Kuala Lumpur. I shot a bunch of photos in an area a few blocks South of Chinatown, dominated by a stunning, stark white, minimal Islamic skyscraper called the Dayabumi. I almost got rained on by the downspray from a building washer way up near the top of it. Ironically, the area all around there was pretty weathered and trash-filled. Across the street was a rad-lookng Islamic fountain that didn't look very old, but even it had already been neglected and fallen into ruins.

From there, I spied the Menara Kuala Lumpur, and schlepped well over a mile to its location in the Golden Triangle. Informally known as the KL Tower, it's the fifth tallest communications tower in the world, and, at 276 meters, offers the best 360 degree view of this enormous metropolis. (Although the Petronas Towers are taller, their observation deck is only on the 41st floor.) I spent over an hour up at the top from 7:00 to 8;00 p.m. which was the perfect time to watch day turn into night and see all of the pretty lights come on. Unfortunately, the view was somewhat obscured by large, cylindrical supports that crisscrossed over the windows; and the benches, which were made of narrow tubes, were insanely uncomfortable.

The tower featured an elaborate tourist complex, complete with myriad souvenir stands and snack bars, a small animal park, a Malaysian cultural village featuring facades of traditional kampung houses filled with more souvenirs, and a plain white performance hall downstairs, where I watched a traditional Malaysian music and dance performance. Oddly, the musicians played first, offering up a half hour's worth of melodic tunes, then, unfortunately, the dancers performed to canned music! (Obviously the emotional impact would be much greater if they would combine the two.)

The first number featured a lovely traditional Malaysian dance with beautiful performers in colorful outfits, followed by a slow, mesmerizing fan dance by Muslim girls wearing all black, and ending with teenagers dancing in t-shirts and jeans. The latter seemed more like an informal rehearsal, as they oddly started practicing again after the music stopped. I was really sleepy, so I power-walked my way through some really dodgy-looking streets back to the Red Dragon hostel in Chinatown.

Besides Andrew there are a few other people from the skateboarding community that had an 'All I See' photo interview. You can see the rest of them just by scrolling down.

I awoke today in the Voyager Hostel to the tune of a blacksmith across the street incessantly beating metal against metal. "Clink! Clink! Clink!" I had to get out of there. On impulse, I decided to head on over to Malaysia's biggest city, Kuala Lumpur, a two-hour bus ride away. It seemed like three or four days in Melaka was enough, since I had already enjoyed most of its colorful charms. As I walked over to Town Square to jump on the bus to Melaka Sentral terminal, I was tempted to stay, because it was a gorgeous day with the sun shining in the middle of a clear blue sky.

Two hours and three easy bus rides later, I found myself strolling through the crusty streets of Chinatown, Kuala Lumpur. I rented a bed in a cavernous dorm room at the Red Dragon Backpackers Hostel, where I took a much-needed semi-nap and escaped the tropical heat by parking my corpse smack-dab in front of a fan. A little later, I mustered up the strength to wander through the packed aisles of the Chinatown market and rub shoulders with a cross-section of humanity that ranged from snow white tourists to aggressive Chinese and Malaysian hawkers to Muslim women completely cloaked in intimidating jet black burkas. As dinner time drove up, I settled for another plate of stir-fry at Old China Cafe, a place that exudes an early 20th century antique ambience.

Something awoke me around 7:30 this morning. I'm not sure if the guy who runs the place I was staying at made a loud noise, but there I lay awake with my eyes wide open. A moment later, he opened the locked door to the three-bed dorm room I was staying in and peeked inside. (No one else was staying there that night.) I looked back at him and he quickly shut the door and walked away. My iPod touch was a few feet away on a table, where it had been charging. (Ironically, that was the first time I charged it in a dorm room or a room that I couldn't latch from the inside.) I wonder why he peeked in? He really had no good reason to. If I would have been sound asleep and snoring, I bet he would have stole my iPod. I went back to sleep, and after I woke up a few hours later, I was weirded out enough by that little episode that I packed up my backpack and marched, soaking my shirt in sweat under the blazing tropical sun, over to Chinatown to stay in a 16-bed dorm at the Voyager Hostel.

Right after I checked in, a sudden rainstorm appeared out of the grey and completely drenched Melaka. I was so stoked I didn't get caught out in it! When it cleared up, I paid a visit to the Muzium Rakyat, which displayed the history of Malaysian culture, including their art, music, fashion and food. An odd, unlikely exhibit on the same floor traced the history of spinning tops and their use in competition and entertainment. On the second floor was a similar exhibit that took a look at over two thousand years of kites, from their little-known usage in war, politics and religion, as well as their more famous function as a form of amusement for adults and kids alike. The top floor was filled with an old exhibit full of faded photos of people from around the world who employ scarification, tattoos, piercings and the like as a form of beauty and loyalty to their tribes. Overall, the Muzium Rakyat struck me as quite the quirky institution that is entertaining and informative at the same time.

After enjoying a bowl of yummy stir-fry veggies at the really nice and clean Cafe 1511, I planned to visit a couple of museums, but I got unexpectedly sidetracked by a live performance by an outfit called Hiasan Budaya, who was playing down at Town Square. Right when I walked up, I caught the last few seconds of some kind of traditional Malaysian dance they put on, then the musicians proceeded, without dancers, into a seemingly endless stream of ballads.

Suddenly, an emcee got on the mic and boisterously invited a bunch of passersby to join the dancers, and the band kicked into high gear as a full-blown shindig exploded. Happy faces and bobbing bodies shimmied about and piloted a train around in circles. It was quite a joyous sight to behold. I hung around for over an hour after that subsided, hoping to catch more of the traditional dance, but it never resumed, and the band packed up its gear, so I went for a bowl of spicy noodles and tofu at The Geographer.

Right when I was finishing my meal, I glanced out upon the street, where a little yellow car pulled up and a Chinese woman, her young son and daughter got out, popped open the back and set up a miniature candy factory right in the middle of the intersection. Did I say the sidewalk or the edge of the street? No, I said the middle of not only a street, but an intersection. I've never witnessed such a high degree of anarchic bad-assery in my whole life. The little girl grabbed a hammer and chisel and incessantly chipped away at a big tray full of hard taffy-like substance while the boy cut off small chunks of some gooey stuff and bathed it in brown crumbs. Mom then packaged it all up and collected money from customers. Then, just as I expected, more vendors began to set up their stalls up and down the street, as a full-on night market got underway.

After visiting Blogland at the Discovery Cafe for a couple of hours, I moseyed back down into the intense hawker fair on Jonker Street in Chinatown. There were so many sardined humans waddling as slowly as possible all up and down the street. On the far side, a huge, lit-up stage served as ground zero for scores of kaoroke masters, each of whom took the stage to grab their few minutes of glory. The most comical part arrived when four old codgers augmented the singing with a geriatric yet (broken) hip dance routine.

Right after I ate dinner, I was walking toward the exit of the street fair when I rounded a corner and stumbled upon an old Chinese man brandishing a table full of vinyl. I flicked through his offerings for a while and ended up buying nine seven-inch singles of vintage Singapore pop from the 1960s. I recognized some of the artist names from a CD comp I bought a few months ago called Singapore A Go-Go. I was so stoked I found some of the original records, and for only $1.00 each! I was kind of surprised, too. It seems like you'd really have to put the word out and schlep off to some really dusty, obscure places to find vinyl like this. It's almost like the records came looking for me.

"The site where the city of Melaka stands today was the center of Melakan history. It was the capital of the Melakan Sultanate and was the centre of the Malay world in the 15th and the 16th century after the Malays moved over from Sumatra, and was the most developed part of the Malay Peninsula before it fell to the Portuguese in 1511. Centuries of colonization by the Portuguese, Dutch and the British, as well as development of Straits Chinese (Peranakan) culture, have influenced the architecture of the town. Since the founding of Singapore in 1819, Melaka has been in decline, as its port was silting up and Singapore and Kuala Lumpur have grown. After World War II, anti-colonial sentiment developed amongst Malay nationalists, which led to negotiations with the British, and, eventually the announcement of Independence by Tunku Abdul Rahman, Malaysia's first Prime Minister, in 1956."--Wikipedia

I was so tired after traveling yesterday that I slept in until around noon, then lounged around and got ready to go out, which I finally did around 3:00 p.m. I took a leisurely stroll around town and shot a whole boatload of photos, including an old warship and some cannons, the Cheng Hoon Teng Buddhist temple, various intricate Chinese facades, an array of really tweaked statuary and colorful, weird buildings. I chanced upon a really nice restaurant called The Geographer, where I ordered a veggie sandwich that was really a cole slaw sandwich, and some good ol' French fries. I followed that up with a delicious strawberry yogurt smoothie from Cool Blog inside a refreshing, ice cold air-conditioned mall. A lot of tourists flock to Melaka--especially Japanese--and the locals are mostly Muslim and Chinese. The very walkble center of town--Chinatown in particular--is colorfully scenic and spackled with photogenic areas of grit and decay.

Bryan’s new shop, which will be the first Pharmacy in a the LA area, will be located North of the intersection of Sunset Blvd and N. Cahuenga Blvd, adjacent to the Space 15 Twenty shopping complex.

Pharmacy Hollywood will open August 1st 2010 and will be a full service skateboard shop with shoes and apparel, carrying exclusive and specialty brands from the skateboard world.”

Bryan and his Emerica/Pharmacy buddy Marquis Preston stopped by the Altamont headquarters yesterday. Herm is hyped on the new venture. We'll keep you updated on any opening party news.

Hello, July! Hello, Malaysia! I hopped on a deluxe long-distance bus in Singapore bound for Melaka, Malaysia. While I waited at the terminal for the five-hour journey to begin, a torrential rainstorm arrived and followed the bus pretty much all day. Luckily, I cruised right through immigration as I left Singapore and at a second checkpoint a little later when I entered Malaysia.

I was amazed at the road the bus cruised down--it was a smooth concrete highway comprised of two lanes in each direction divided by a wide median with guard rails and foliage, and jungle on either side. It was just like driving down the freeway in the United States. This experience was in sharp contrast to the harrowing, driver-with-a-deathwish bus ride (full of a million near head-on collisions) that I took on a narrow road halfway across Java.

There was a man on the bus who made a snorting sound every 10 seconds and a lady who kept cracking her bubble gum, but at least those obnoxious people were several rows back so it wasn't super loud and in my face, or ears, as the case was. The bus arrived at Melaka Sentral terminal just before sunset. This place is huge--way bigger than Yogyakarta's airport building--and more like a shopping mall than a bus terminal, with shops and stalls lined up everywhere. I hopped on an old, dirty chugger of a local bus, which filled up to standing-room-only really fast, bound for Town Square.

When I hopped off there, the map in my guidebook only helped in a general sense, as it doesn't contain the name of every street, and many intersections here don't have street signs. Completely drenched in sweat, I trudged through the drizzling rain and sauna-like air toward the area of the hotels where I hoped to find a room. My first choice, Traveller's Lodge, was all booked, but I found a spot in a three-bed dorm room at Shirah's Guest House, a reasonably clean place with a small kitchen, a chill out TV room, and nice psychedelic paintings on the walls. There was a young Malaysian man--maybe in his late teens or early twenties--sharing my room, and I was stunned when his ringtone suddenly wafted out the X-Files theme. The show ended eight years ago, so that was kind of an odd thing to hear halfway around the world. It's my favorite TV show ever, and actually one of very few that I like at all.

I felt really fatigued today, so I took a nice long nap in the afternoon, then did the web thing and weaved my way through the shopping hordes to buy an extra bottle of sunblock. As evening arrived, I grabbed a subway downtown to eat at Lau Pa Sat again and stroll around Marina Bay for one last view of the amazing Singapore skyline, since I'll most likely never see it again.

I figured out that my iPod touch has a program called Voice Memos, and that I can actually record sounds onto it with the built-in microphone on the earbuds that came with it. Yippee! It may not be the highest-fi, but it's better than nothing. As I walked to the subway, I encountered a ridiculously huge, slowly hammering racket at a construction site that could out-pound any band of any genre. So, that became the subject of my first recording.

I had such a nice time walking around the Singapore Botanic Gardens for a few hours in the late afternoon. It's a great, big, incredibly scenic park a mile East of the Orchard Road shopping frenzy. This place is fully full of every kind of tropical bamboo, fern, palm and plant you can imagine; lakes with swans and bigger trees also dot the landscape. I counted at least four separate sets of newlyweds who had their portraits made in front of some waterfalls. Even though the weather was really hot, sitting and soaking in the serene surroundings was so relaxing.

I recorded the sounds of weirdly screeching cicadas, the rushing waterfalls and a clattering drone that emanated from a construction site where a new subway station is being built. At dusk, I rode a bus over to Fort Canning, where I recorded the amazing sound of the croaking frogs I had chanced upon a few days before. On my way to the nearby Clarke Quay subway station, I stopped to relax and people-watch on the riverbank, where I shot a photo of that insane bungie people launcher.

I sort of took it easy today, too. I just walked from my room at the Prince of Wales hostel in Little India a half mile over to the Malay Heritage Museum in Kampung Glam. Since the next country I'm going to visit is Malaysia, I thought I better brush up on it a little bit first. This is a small museum that traces the history of the Singapore Malays from their genesis as a seafaring people who traded with the Chinese, Indians and Europeans, and proceeds on through scenes of war and everyday life through the past several centuries.

Many artifacts--including books, clothing, jewelry, tools and weapons--are also included; as well as pop culture items from the mid-20th century like comic books, vinyl records, a newsstand and even a little movie set. Two lifesize dioramas depict a Kampong thatched roof house from a traditional communal village and a typical high-rise housing apartment of the 1960s, which symbolizes the Malays resilience at adopting to an urban multiple-cultural lifestyle. I ended the evening at Bugis Street, a huge market of food and clothing stalls. It's so crowded, it's hard to even walk through this place.

After the past several activity-filled days, I rested for most of the afternoon. I took my own sweet time performing morning chores and extended them into the afternoon, then did the web thing for a spell. An hour before sunset, I rode a subway down to Lau Pa Sat, a century old food hawker center, and bought a plate of spicy veggies and rice. Then I took a stroll around the Marina Bay area, which offers some hella impressive views of the downtown skyline--especially at night. Those massive skyscrapers really loom over you!

I walked inside the lobby of the Marina Bay Sands to see how much it would cost to ascend to the observation deck, but $15 for an elevator ride was way past my $3o per day budget. Instead, across the river, I found a set of magical, colorful stepping stones that lit up like a Christmas tree, and walking across them was free! Yippee! Then I shot some photos of the Helix Bridge and headed back to my room. I forgot to mention that due to a misunderstanding about my reservations, I had to leave the Inn Crowd on Saturday, and got another dorm bed a half block away at the Prince of Wales. It's a similar place, but there's a bar downstairs instead of a chill out room.

I stopped by a Chinese buffet diner for lunch, ordered some food and asked for a napkin. The cashier pointed at some packages of them, so I tore one open and pulled out a napkin. Then she made me pay for the whole package. It was only 30 cents, but still I must say, that was a new one on me. I'll bet you've never had to pay for a napkin in your whole life. Now I can say I have.

Then I tried to cross a bridge down the street, but some military dudes had it closed off for some kind of parade. I shot a few photos of the Singapore armed forces and their various vessels of national defense. It was amazing to watch a squadron of huge tanks rumble by, as their big engines and treads emanated massive Iannis Xenakis-like drones across the cityscape.

Next, I shot some photos of skyscrapers around Marina Bay and City Centre. There is no shortage of these big contraptions in Singapore! They seem to be endless. I came across some rad street musicians, including one by himself who played a lap guitar in the middle of the bridge, and another group of 10 teenagers, most of whom sang and clapped while two of them haphazardly danced and did cartwheels. They would do this for a couple of minutes at one spot, then move on to another.

I ended up the day at the Asian Civilizations Museum. It was the last day of a big exhibition called Treasury of the World, Jewelled Arts of India in the Age of the Mughals, thus the hours were extended until 1:00 a.m. and admission was free after 5:00 p.m. So, I went for a drink and a snack to kill some time and save $8.00.

Several exhibitions were running at the same time, including a multi-media look at the history of the small and humble yet important Singapore River, an amazing photo exhibit of a Borneo tribesman who struggles for existence amid deforestation, and the aforementioned Treasury of the World, which covers the ultra glitzy jewelry and weapons made by artists and craftsmen in India for the rulers of the Mughal empire from the 16th through the 19th centuries.

Most of the museum is filled with six huge galleries that examine the history of art throughout Asia, including carvings, ceramics, handmade books, pottery, sculptures, statues, textiles, video projections, weapons and much more. And it's all presented in really buttery-looking, dark exhibits with dramatic lighting. There is so much to look at and read, there's no way to do it all in one day. Afer five hours, I was exhausted and called it a night.

This day was absolutely full of delightful surprises for my eyes and ears. A few minutes after I walked outside, an old lady in her 60s bummed some change off of me and we chatted for a while. She recommended that I explore Fort Canning, and since it was just a short walk down the road, that's exactly what I did. It's basically a big park on one of Singapore's few hills that contains some relics from its time as a military installation, plus a nature walk through some botanical gardens, lots of big exotic trees, and a main building that houses various businesses and art galleries. I saw one art show there featuring wooden sculpture that took place in two small rooms, one painted all white called the White Studio; and the Black Box, a jet black room with a few rows of seats stacked up theatre-style in the back. It wouldn't be very difficult at all to imagine Keiji Haino putting on a performance in that space.

Next, I strolled through the Spice Garden botanical gardens, and as I arrived on the other side of Fort Canning at dusk, I was greeted by a rad old lighthouse and an amazing three-layer burrito of sound that consisted of a kid playing an acoustic guitar accompanied by a bunch of cicadas chirping and frogs croaking. The latter bellowed a seriously mesmerizing, staggered drone from deep down inside a drainage culvert. It sounded so much better than most music made by humans, I wanted to record it so bad! I sat on the ground and listened to it closely for quite a while.

As I walked down a lighted brick walkway and exited Fort Canning, I came upon Clarke Quay, a popular area for dining and drinking. There, I watched people get hucked a couple of hundred feet straight up into the air on a gigantic reverse bungie sling and others get hoisted straight up to the same height and get suddenly dropped on a giant pendulum swing. The day's final piece of eye candy came in the form of a bunch of radio-controlled kites adorned with really bright, colorful lights that flitted, swooped, banked and looped in the most unnatural, un-aerodynamic way, it looked quite astonishing. Yeah, today really was was filled with a bunch of rad, random, unexpected stuff. Awesome possum.

I started the day off with a bang today. I got hit my a car! I had just stepped out of the Inn Crowd hostel and walked a couple of blocks down Dunlop street, which is a really narrow one-way lane lined with shops who block off most of the sidewalk with their mountains of stuff for sale. Thus, I was strolling down the edge of the street when some dude's side mirror smacked me in the arm.

That means the rest of his car missed me by two or three inches. He heard the loud smack and looked back but didn't even stop to ask if I was okay. Wow. Thanks, dude. Was that a late Christmas present for little ol' me? You shouldn't have. No, I mean you really shouldn't have hit me with your car, then not ask if I'm okay and not apologize, because I believe in karma. Ha-ha! Get it?

In a foul mood, I bought a subway pass and cruised on the underground down to Chinatown. First on the agenda was a visit to Sri Mariamman Temple, Singapore's oldest Hindu place of worship, which is chock-full of highly colorful and ornate sculptures of the full panthoen of Indian gods. Unfortunately, although admission is free, you have to pay a few bucks for a photography permit. I'm on a tight budget, so I just looked through the interior and shot a couple of photos from the gates outside.

Next up was the Thian Hock Keng Temple, which contained an impressive array of beautiful shrines to Buddha. I rested for a while and shot photos of all of the shrines, then a moment before I was about to leave, a full-blown Buddhist prayer service fired up out of nowhere! Two musicians--one who spooled out shrill, dissonant ribbons on a horn and another who matched that with a clanging metallic percussion racket--accompanied a priest who sang and led the prayer over a collection of candles, in front of a small crowd of devotees. It was an amazing moment that got extended for a whole half hour. I was so lucky to be in the right place at the right time. This was the second time that happened, after the intense Calon Arang performance I witnessed at Pura Dalem Puri in Bali.

I hit the streets again and just wandered around shooting photos of Singapore's endless skyscrapers. I got plum tuckered out, so I decided to catch a subway down to Orchard Road to see how the other half lives--or at least shops. I figured some more walking might cure my fatigue. Picture the Mall of America, Rodeo Drive and Times Square all blended into one and you have Orchard Road. It's a wide, long avenue completely packed on both sides with one cutting edge, high end shopping mall after another. The whole place is so glitzy, glossy and lit up, it could give Las Vegas a run for its money.

By the time I was ready to get going today, an intense afternoon downpour stopped me in my tracks. So, I threw on my rainjacket and walked a couple of blocks down to a web joint for a two-hour visit with Mr. Blog. As soon as we grew weary of each other and the sky finished dumping its load, I embarked on a dazzling skyscraper-spotting sojourn. Singapore has its fair share of the things, more are being built every day, and when this small country goes big, the results are oversized constructions of epic proportions.

After a plate of so-so spicy noodles from Zam Zam, I walked from the Kampung Glam neighborhood down to the City Centre, which is basically a gigantic garden of tall buildings ripe for your viewing pleasure. I made my way through an icy cold Raffles shopping mall then down inside a pedestrian underpass that opens into a wide marble passageway where kids practice breakdancing. I ended up at Marina Bay, which offers an excellent view of a big crowd of skyscrapers in the financial district.

I also got an eyefull of the Marina Bay Sands, an odd design that looks like a hurricane tossed a ship up on top of three high-rise buildings. This place puts on quite a light show, complete with choreographed flames that occasionally shoot 100 feet straight up out of a lower bowl-shaped section. By the time I walked back up to Little India, I was all tuckered out, so I ate a palm leaf full of spicy Indian food then called it a night.

"Made in Singapore." Throughout your whole life, you've seen those three words stamped on many a product. I'm finally here! But I haven't seen any smokey factories belching out all of that stuff. Maybe they're hidden underneath the neatly swept and polished surface. Singapore is a small and tidy island / city / nation that measures only roughly 12 x 24 miles. It's highly Westernized, ultra-modern, and as far as diners and shoppers are concerned, it can easily compete with any city on the globe.

The airport looked very fence post modern and dope. The authorities are so paranoid and safety-conscious, they x-rayed my backpack on the way out of the airport. I'm not making that up! I rode the smooth and efficient (like everything else here) train over to the Little India district, where I rented a bunk bed in a dorm room at the Inn Crowd, a trendy hostel that caters to backpackers. It has a chill out area with bean bags, couches, a TV, DVD player, Wii console, kitchen, laundry free internet and a free small breakfast. At $15 per night, it's two or three times more expensive than a private room in Indonesia, but it's worth it for all of the extras.

After a short nap up in the oven-hot dorm rooms (where air conditioning is only on after 7:00 p.m.) I took a stroll down the street to Sri Veeramakaliamman Temple (Try to say that slow even one time!), which is dedicated to the Indian goddess Kali. The place was filled with the calming smell of incense, intricate shrines and people assembling offerings of fruit and prayer.

A bit further down the road, I encountered Sakaya Muni Buddha Gaya Temple, also known as the Temple of 1000 Lights. This place is also home to highly detailed statues and carvings of Buddha enshrined behind glass. After I shot a few photos, I sat on the front steps to rest when a Buddhist monk began beating a drum. By the time I thought to shoot a photo or video clip, he stopped, which was a shame, because when I looked, I discovered he had to climb up on a ladder to beat the big, ornate drum with a mallet. That would have made a really nice photo!

When I stepped out of my room this morning, I was astonished by the strange, haunting and beautiful sound of two separate voices somewhere across the alley singing Muslim religious songs through really loud PAs. I was so bummed I couldn't record it! I was also sad that I had to leave the creature comforts of the Warung Baru hotel, so what else could I do except grab lunch at the Warung Baru cafe? I was accompanied by Ralf, a fellow traveler from Germany who has been on the road in Southeast Asia since November 2009. He left his job back then to travel around the world, which he's done numerous times before. He gave me the lowdown on all of the rad places to check out in Singapore, Malaysia and Thailand, where I'll be heading soon.

One of the main reasons Ralf was in Solo was to climb nearby Gunung Merapi, a mountain that's about 9,000 feet high. To see the sunrise on top, he has to start the hike at midnight and he'll return to the bottom by noon. For lunch, I ordered another omellette served on Warung Baru's delicious homemade bread. I love it so much that I bought a half loaf of it to take with me to the airport.

After Ralf left, I sat in the cafe for a while to kill some time when I saw a colorful 50-something Australian named Stuart and his girlfriend Karie, whom I had chatted with a few times already, climb out of a becak and head into their room at Istana Griya. He is a farmer and artist who was in Solo to have some of his artwork printed on textiles for a big show he's putting on down in Melbourne. Like Ralf, Stuart has also traveled all around the world since the '70s. He told us a bunch of stories about sketchy things that have happened to him in foreign countries, like getting thrown in jail in Pakistan, falling seriously ill with diahrea in the middle of nowhere in India, running out of money, and a bunch of other crazy stuff.

A little while later, I hopped on a really hot, crowded train back toward Yogyakarta and got off at a little town called Maguwo, the home of Adisucipto Airport. Since the only flight to Singapore was at 7:30 a.m. I had planned to sleep in the airport, but it's a really small one and I was told I'd probably get the boot. So, exhausted, I ended up trudging a kilometer down a dark highway to lay my weary head on a pillow for a few hours in a really run-down hotel called Kalasan. Amid the sounds of roaring traffic off in the distance, fighting dogs and what could have only been a couple of Jehovah's witnesses wrestling a set of wind chimes, I "enjoyed" some sporadic shuteye until Mr. iPod woke me up at 4:30 a.m. for my flight to Singapore.

This town gave me a beatdown today. I spent two or three hours riding a bicycle around these chaotic streets looking for sunblock, as the little tube I bought last week was almost gone. I pedaled my ass off and back on again, up and down the avenues and around in circles trying to find a supermarket. Each local I asked told me to go in a different direction. With my shirt soaked in sweat, I walked into several different little maze-like malls, but all they sold was clothing and small electronic gadgets. One store had some fancypants Nivea suncreen and moisturizing lotion with SPF 50, but it cost $8.00 for a tiny five-ounce bottle.

I finally gave up and set out on a search for the Sasono Sewoko Museum, where there was supposed to be traditional Javanese dance practice from 1:00 to 3:00 p.m. The same exact thing happened, as each local I asked sent me packing off in a different direction. Maps are semi-useless in Indonesia, as many intersections don't have street signs. I ended up at the Kraton Museum around 3:00 p.m. and decided to just go with the flow, which calmed me down. This joint is full of royal portraits, figurines and carriages, and a bunch of charming, dusty old displays of traditional Javanese art and music like Wayng Kulit, Wayang Golek, gamelan, masks and much more.

I resumed the search for sunblock and finally found a small bottle of Nivea with SPF 20 for $4.50 at a supermarket. Then I took a much-needed nap in my room, followed by a delicious meal at Warung Baru, which consisted of an omelette served on homemade bread, and an order of homemade garlic bread. By the way, Warung Baru also runs a little hotel, and yesterday I got a much better room there with a nice bed and a private bathroom for only $5.00. This was by far the cleanest room I've stayed in on my whole trip.

Isaac and FOS, along with a bunch of our skateboard artist, just finished their 'One Way Or Another' art/skate tour in the USA. The Color Magazine website has a bunch of rad post and photos you should check out!

I went on a dope-ass bicycle tour to visit several cottage industries in and around Solo. The first stop was at a traditional weaver who spins cotton fabric for the sarong, a skirt-like garment worn by men and women in Indonesia. Second in line was a small batik factory where artisans hand-stamp intricate patterns on sarongs, then wax and dye them. The guide told me these sarongs are sold throughout Indonesia and overseas.

Third up was a place that makes rice crackers. A handful of workers bake, cut and set them out to dry in the sun, then package them up in little bags for markets. Next, we passed through some gorgeous countryside full of vast rice fields, and stopped for a quick break at an irrigation canal, where my guide splashed some water on himself to cool down.

Of course, the highlight of the tour was the gamelan factory in Bekonang village, which is supposedly one of only two in all of Java. I arrived just at the right time to watch a dude repeatedly heat up a large gong inside a pile of red-hot coals, then pull it out with long poles and hand it to someone else who hammered it into shape while two other guys rotated it with huge tongs. Amid all of the insanely burning hot metal surfaces and lapping flames, these men wore only t-shirts and shorts--no shoes or eye protection needed, thank you. I'm sure OSHA would be stoked on that.

In the next room over, the gongs get burnished and affixed to their wooden stands in preparation to be sold. It's kind of weird that this gamelan factory is on the edge of a tiny village right next to some big rice fields. The final stop of the day was at a little place that makes alcohol to be used in hospitals and also doubles as a whiskey-like drink. The tour ended back at Warung Baru, where I ate some vegetable curry and potato curry.

For the past few days, I couldn't decide if I should backtrack the 50 or so miles to Solo, but since the Tugu station is only a couple of blocks from my room, I finally decided to hop on a train today and go for it. En route, the train passed a lot of farms growing crops like rice and corn, which, on the way into Solo, eventually gave way to scenes of incredible poverty and squalor within a series of super raw shanty towns. I'm talking about dirt floors, garbage strewn eveywhere, rusty tin roofs shot up with a million holes and patched with every kind of random material known to humanity.

I got a super-basic room for $6.00 at Istana Griya with a mattress on the floor and a bathroom down the hall. Then I took a stroll down the main drag, snapping photos and looking for an Internet joint. A tour guide popped up out of thin air and offered to take me on a bicycle tour the following day. He showed me an Internet spot, but it was useless because their computers lacked Microsoft Office Picture Manager, which I need to size and add contrast to my pics.

I found another spot that had the program, but also boasted the worst, most archaic and color-inaccurate monitors you could shake a cathode ray tube at. I uploaded my photos from the previous day, but since there was no wi-fi, I had to wait to fetch the text from my iPod touch. As the evening wore on, I went to a Wayang Orang performance down at Sriwedari Theatre, located in the back of a weird little amusement park.

On the way there, I rode through a bunch of bugs that I thought were mosquitos, so I worried that I may have got bitten and infetced with Malaria. I think they were just gnats, though, because I never found any mosquito bites on me later. Back to the show. I had never heard of Wayang Orang, so I didn't really know what to expect. Basically, the dancers imitate the puppets of Wayang Kulit, and the show mainly consists of comedy skits interspersed with a little dance and a few dramatic scenes backed up with occasional gamelan support. So if, like myself, you don't speak Indonesian, most of the performance is impenetrable. It sure looked nice, though--especially the backdrops. It was also funny to see the gamelan players stare into their cell phones during downtime.

Cut from a different cloth...
RALPH STEADMAN FOR ALTAMONT

Los Angeles, CA (June 18, 2010) – In his early life, the United Kingdom's Ralph Steadman was held hostage by an overgrown insect known as the Great Bug of Creativity. Instead of trying to escape back into the creature comforts of the moribund workaday world, young Ralph eventually saw the light and wisely chose to become an artist instead.

Soon after, his star really began to rise. Ralph became well-known for his pictorial contributions to American author Hunter S. Thompson's writings. Together, they created gonzo journalism—-an unpolished, exaggerated, profane form of literature that blends fact and fiction, and in which the reporter becomes a main character.

In the 1970s and '80s, Ralph's distorted, chaotic drawings perfectly mirrored Hunter's corrosive, stream-of-consciousness words in such gonzo classics as Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas in 1971 and the lesser-known The Curse of Lono in 1983. In print for only a short while, the latter was re-issued in 2005, due to Ralph's popularity, complete with a large number of his drawings and paintings.

Altamont is honored to partner with Mr. Steadman to bring you this special T-shirt series scarred by his infamously gonzo illustrations from Hunter’s long-lost and most collectible novel, The Curse of Lono. The Ralph Steadman for Altamont collection is available now in select stockists only.

After the past several action-packed days, I really needed to take a day off for some rest and relaxation. I lanced and drained that blister on my baby toe, so I had to avoid walking as much as possible. I pretty much just stayed in my room, listened to my iPod and took a nap. At around 2:00 p.m. I decided to go for a bike ride since I still had three hours left on my rental. So, I just jammed around town with the never-ending stampede of motorcycles. It's so fun to get mixed in with a big crowd of them, especially at a red light when everyone gets all packed in super-tight. The best part is when there's a huge bus or truck right in front of your face belching noxious fumes straight into your lungs.

At one point, I bought a bag of barbecue potato chips from a kid who sells them out of a little glass cart. He even has a little scale that he weighs them on, which is so funny. I ate a late lunch at my favorite restaurant in town, Bedhot, which is fairly cheap and decorated in a rad psychedelic motif. Next came a three-hour web session followed by an egg sandwich dinner to cap off a semi-mellow day.

I returned to the Sultan's Palace to watch the gamelan rehearsal. I arrived a few minutes after they started, but not as late as I did on Monday. I was surprised to see that in addition to the gamelan, a full-blown Wayang Golek, also known as a wooden puppet play, was being staged. It was kind of bittersweet, because this was the first time I got to see Wayng Golek, and I was stoked,, but I was also looking forward to hearing the gamelan play by themselves, because the dalang (puppet master) adds a lot of clatter to the overall sound with his toe block and metal plate. That can be a good or bad thing depending on your mood.

I assumed today's performance was an excerpt from the Ramayana, which seems to be a really popular theme in Indonesia. Laced in between the sedate scenes were quite a few acts of violence in which the puppets cracked each other over the head in time to the dalang rhythmically beating his metal plate. During dialog-only sections, it was rad to watch the gamelan players drink their tea and smoke their clove cigarettes, then crash back in with a round of jangly, metallic percussion right on cue, as the cute little lady singers filled the air with their shrill, angelic voices.

I also checked out the rest of the Kraton, or Sultan's Palace, that I unknowingly missed yesterday. As far as I could tell, there wasn't much more to it than a large pavilion, a little and really old-looking gamelan, and a couple of dusty old rooms--one containing a portrait of all of the past Sultans, and another really odd one filled with pictures of the royal carriages.

I spent the rest of the afternoon pounding the white hot pavement looking for the local office of Lion Air to book my flight to Singapore for June 22. It took a lot of walking back and forth and around in circles, which, under the hot, tropical sun, utterly wore me out. I was informed by someone in the building where Lion Air should have been that they only have an office over at the airport now. Luckily, Air Asia had an office in the same building, so I just booked a flight with them. I was surprised and delighted that it only cost $137 for an 800-mile flight. I was expecting to pay $200 to $300.

A big blister on my left baby toe was flaring up, so I took a becak up to a money changer near my room to get some cash for the ticket. The rate for traveler's checks was kind of low there, so I walked a few blocks over to a bank, but it was closed, then headed right back to the money changer and went for it. Since my feet were all hot and bothered and my blister was hurting pretty bad, I rented a mountain bike and rode back down to the Air Asia office and paid for my ticket. I was relieved to finally get that done.

Then I went on a joy ride through some insane motorcycle traffic around the main area of Yogyakarta. It felt so good to cruise around super fast, which made a nice breeze blow on me, and it didn't aggravate my feet. I also had fun stopping to shoot photos of rad, raw-looking scenes. After a short web session, I went back to the Sono-Budoyo Museum at 8:00 p.m. to catch another Wayang Kulit and gamelan performance.

Today was kind of a mess. I hitched a ride in a becak downtown to catch a Wayang Golek wooden puppet play scheduled for 10:00 a.m. at a place called Nitour, but I couldn't find it to save the whales, or my life. I asked several different locals, but they didn't know what the hell I was talking about. After sweltering in the hot tropical sun while I walked up and down the street looking for Nitour, I'm convinced the place either closed down or never existed to begin with.

As a consolation, I visited the Sono-Budoyo Museum, which is made up of numerous rooms that are chock-full of fine traditional Javanse art and artifacts, including a gamelan, Wayang Kulit shadow puppets, masks, batik, hand-drawn books and even a room featuring Balinese versions of the same. All of this stuff was definitely a highly detailed treat for the eyes.

Next, I strolled a few blocks over to the Taman Sari, also known as the Water Palace. This place was really hard to find. I spent over an hour walking arond in circles looking for it, and my feet paid the price as they got super hot and blisters formed between my baby toes. I've been walking way too much lately. The Water Palace was built back in the 18th century as a cool-down spot for the Sultan, who supposedly also had some hidden romping rooms in there. The place is a maze of large bathing fountains, stairways and tiny doorways and rooms that look like they were designed for pygmies. Since my feet were all worn out, I took a becak back to my room, and after a three-hour web session, I took a much-needed break for the rest of the evening.

I walked over a mile down to the Kraton, also known as the Sultan's Palace, today to listen to the gamelan orchestra practice, which they do every Monday and Wednesday from 10:30 a.m. until noon. I got there late and only saw about half of the performance, but it sounded wonderfully tranquil and majestic. The musicians were really old school. I wouldn't be surprised if some of them played on those old Javanese gamelan LPs that the Nonesuch label recorded and released back in the early 1970s. Scores of tourists who were checking out the rest of the Sultan's Palace filed in and out over on the side of the pavillion. A few stopped to take a photo, but most of them barely even listened to the music. How sad! When it ended, I walked around the rest of the compound and took a bunch of snaps.

There's a museum inside dedicated to Sultan Hamengkubuwono IX, the current Sultan's dad, who was the first Governor of the Yogyakarta Special Region, the ninth Sultan of Sultanate of Yogyakarta from 1940 until his death in 1988, and the second vice president of Indonesia during the Suharto's reign. The museum is a huge place, comprised of numerous buildings that proudly display the Sultan's military outfits and weapons, royal finery and full regalia, numerous large portraits of himself and the family, plus furniture, china, tools, and pretty much everything else from his personal stash. I also stopped by a little shop where a couple of artisans make those insanely detailed Wayang Kulit shadow puppets by hand. That was so amazing.

I took a becak a couple of miles down to the Purawisata to catch a performance of the Ramayana Ballet, a version of the epic Hindu battle / love story. There were plenty of fight scenes throughout, featuring punching, kicking, archery and even a real-life flame war with torches; and lots o' tender love scenes. Although the dancers and gamelan musicians put on a fine performance, the musicians' efforts were drowned out by a huge din created by a row of big, loud electric fans that ran down each side of the hall, and a really rude audience of European tourists who talked through much of the show. To top it all off, the venue featured the acoustics of an airplane hangar, which, coupled with the aforementioned electric fans and audience, ma