Since it’s that time of year again, and my wonderful job of teaching at a university in Korea allows me a very generous vacation, I have decided to embark on yet another travel photography expedition. This time, however, my itinerary is set for Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand for a total of 37 days.

As you may remember, last break during the summer I managed to backpack over 3,000 km in four weeks – some hitchin’, some mashrootka (the Russian minivan taxi where once I experienced being one of twenty-four stuffed inside like sardines in a tin can); the bukhanka (literally translated as loaf of bread, you’ll know what I mean by clicking here), and of course, the Tran-Siberian, Trans-Mongolian rail. This time I’ll probably be bussing it around more, from city to city, with only a very basic itinerary and over 40GB of memory on my cameras to fill.

I’m hoping to do more trekking in the jungle amidst ancient ruins (Angkor Wat); see the killing fields, French colonial towns, whole families riding on a single motorbike; cu-chi tunnels, punji traps, tuk-tuks, shot down planes. I hope to hear the sweet sounds of the đàn nhị, see snakes hanging off vines and primates of all sorts brachiating. I’m hoping to capture paddies and rice hats and water buffalo sludging around in rice terraces; of course, the resilient and resourceful people of Indochina who have persisted for centuries through wars, genocides; famine and disease not to mention, to capture the Buddhist traditions in the remotest places on the planet.

My past trips, particularly my Baltics to Balkans adventure in 2010 where I drove around Europe, app. 4,500 km, in a ’94 Opel, produced in me a very malleable-type traveler, forging the curves of my body to naturally be able to sleep in box-sized, coffin-like compartments, as over the folded out seats in the station wagon or being obediently squeezed between two zaftig Latvian babooshkas on an overnight train. My past experiences of sleeping in huts on wooden floors, in oven-heated gers, in orthodox churches as well as outside at their entrances…under trees, in tents, in the desert plains, in the Mongolian steppes, in strangers’ houses – were all such places where I could ‘step’ my ear to the ground (like the Spanish say pisar la oreja) and to practice in making myself easily compact or to learn how to become accustomed to certain conditions, essentially to rough it out and refrain from complaining for having a boxspring for a bed, or that I should practice the art of not squirming about when a mouse or other infestation happens onto me at night, scuttling around, as such things happened to me in the Philippines.

Of course, I’m hoping the physical changes my body underwent were equally matched with my physiological ones, too. Preparing my hardly steadfast immune system, my not-so-much bacteria exposed entrails were the snails, the scorpions and other street food matter I ate back in China; the mutton, the sheep gonads from Mongolia; the endless platter of pork in hospitable homes in Russia and from the Philippines, boiled chick called, Balut. I suppose eating Korean food for a whole year has also tempered my organs to prevent any sort of organ-type malfunction (knocking on wood!).

On the matter of spiritual changes, I suppose you could read previous posts which I was lucky enough to get published in travel mags. My travel piece, “Siberia: Not To Be Learned From Books” seems to be getting me some attention.

So, rather basically, here is a picture of my Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand itinerary: