E’ uscito il mio primo articolo per il quotidiano indipendente online LETTERA 43 dedicato alla situazione non troppo golosa per gli omosessuali in Malaysia… il ban al gay pride Seksualiti Merdeka… le nuovi leggi civili anti-gay… insomma, tante belle cose per amare il paese adottivo dei miei ultimi 2 anni!!! Leggete il pezzo dal link qui sotto, una versione non-edited presto disponibile sul caro China/Asia Files.

Omofobia alla Malese

Altre novita’ riguardo la Malaysia: punto primo, mi sono finalmente laureato (per la seconda volta), e ora sono “Maestro nello studio di come i Cinesi studiano l’Inglese”. E’ stata una lunga avventura che merita un libro intero, chissa’ se mai sara’ scritto… in ogni modo, l’aver studiato in una Universita’ asiatica e’ una esperienza MOLTO PARTICOLARE che non so se mi sento di consigliare ad amici o nemici.

Alla fine dei conti, in ogni caso, e’ stata una esperienza rivelatoria e ancora piu’ intima con le menti (spesso malate) che popolano questi paradisi tropicali, che eleva il Monkey di un’altra spanna verso lo status di IRON BUDDHA.

Punto secondo, a Gennaio lascio il paese a tempo indeterminato. Novita’ sul grande progetto scimmiesco le troverete presto su questo blog… mutante… per il momento, leggetevi l’articolo sui gay e sperate di non esserlo in Malaysia!!

I am happy to announce the digital release of BRUTAL POKHARA’s first installment of extreme Asian music’s compilation… this collective based in the beautiful land of NEPAL has had the great idea of trying to collect a snapshot of what today’s extreme music scene has to offer in the greater Asian region… such a challenging task, I’d say, ended up with some non-Asian bands thrown into the blender for a balance.

Anyhow, if you are as curious as me to listen, and especially listen for FREE, to some unknown and hideous spew of Asian hostility, this is a great opportunity to start with. The beauty of this compilation lies in its (obvious) abundance of bands from the almost oblivious South Asian scenes;  countries such as Nepal, India, Pakistan (oh yeah) and Bangladesh are all represented, giving (at least to me) a first ever glance of extreme music crafted in such odd destinations for the average Western listener.

Yours truly participated getting a slot for WEOT SKAM, the only Malaysian band represented, although I am not actually playing on the recording.

The following is a comprehensive list of the bands and the respective countries, with download links included:

OCCULT SCIENCE OF METAL- SET-1       DOWNLOAD

• Cyborg Cataclysm-GOTHICA, Nepal
• God Wants My Blood-NARSAMHAAR, Nepal
• In Glorificus Luctus(The Mourning After)-KALODIN, Nepal
• Skyggegast- COMBATH ft. Svartalv( ex-SATYRICON, GEHENNA), Norway
• Gloomy Sunday-NÅE, Norway
• Mass of Materia- JAHILIYYAHA, Bangladesh
• Grim Shutdown-EVIL CONSCIENCE, INDIA
• Present Chaos- PLAGUE THROAT, India
• Maid of the Mist- WEIRD ANXIETY, India
• Unison of Beast- ISOLATION IN INFAMY, USA
• Reek of the Rotten- VILE IMPALEMENT, India
• Man Whore meets Women Whore- XAITAN KAUN?, India
• Perang Suci- LOST ANOTHER, Indonesia
• Soul Destruction- ALIEN GODS, India
• Infernal Torment- SATANIZE, Turkey
• Blasphemy ov a  Diabolic- INSANE PROPHECY, India
• Medical Malpractice- PAEDIATRICIAN, Hungary
• Malapetaka Dunia Fana- EXALEIPS, Indonesia
• Acrimony of Terrorism- DARK CARNAGE, India
• Insurrection-CENOBITE, Hungary
• Viper’s Den- DEI TETRA, Thailand
• The Uncaring Strokes of the Master- MYOSIS, Pakistan
• Revolution Has Begun-ANALGESIA, Morocco
• Bacterial in Flesh-AUTHORITY, Indonesia
• Riot of Blood-CHROMATIC MASSACCRE, Bangladesh
• Burial Ground- DIONYSUS, Pakistan
• Sabbatical Repugnant-HYDRO, Indonesia
• Dherai Laajj(Tribute to the Legend)-THE GRUNGY MORPHINS ”The Gorkha Metal Warriors”, India
• The Silent Scream-MEYNOM TURR, India
• Lord of Kaos- KRAZY ELECTRONS, India
• Futile Dogma: DARK DESOLATION, India
• Retribution-CROW BLACK SKY, South Africa

NOISEDOOM-SET-2    DOWNLOAD

• License to Kill-BIDROHA, Nepal
• Charsi Malang Moola Saray-MARG, Pakistan
• Knock Out- WEOT SKAM, Malaysia
• Fragmented to Live-CATW, India
• Primal Wants of a Divine Creation-DARK MURDER SCHEME, India
• Aakash Chayatiyo- FUL’STOP, Nepal
• Vendetta-VENDETTA, India
• You May Call Me a Dreamer  But I am Not- ESCALON, USA
• Break Down-TAKATAK, Pakistan
• The Malice-PROJECT BERKLEE, Pakistan
• The Rising-ZERO TRANSITION, Nepal
• Walking Alone- HOURGLASS PRISIONER, India
• Pseudo Showcase- WHAT ESCAPES ME, India
• IntraNervous- HEISENBERG, India
• Cradle to Grave-REVOLT, Pakistan
• Blood Tears-PISAKAS, India
• Slave of a Broken Fate-DARK GUREE A MORT, Nepal
• We, Happily Everafter-NOIZY AKADEMI, India
• Coup De Grace- ARCANE DECEPTION, India
• Dream Slayer-ODYSSEY, Pakistan
• We Can’t- IF HOPE DIES, India
• Lost in Thoughts-RAJIV KHADKA, Nepal
• Misery in You-EXILED SANITY, India
• Ammunition- AGE OF CHAOS, India
• Yes, tODAY is Doomsday-BURN THE WATER, India
• Sworn Annihilation- DEMENTIA, Pakistan
• A Lullaby for the Souls-ELVISH MIRAGE, India

We left Matteo Tricarico in India, during his Travel For Aid odissey across Asia into Europe… after a short stint in Dubai, Matteo is now in Iran, a fascinating country full of culture, deserts and very hospitable people…

Before beginning this journey, I read on the internet diaries of other cyclists who travelled through Iran in the last ten years and their words reassured me since they all spoke highly of the kindness, hospitality and friendliness of Iranian population. So far, but I’m pretty sure that I will not change my mind; I can join in exalting these features of the Iranians. In the last eighteen months of travelling I could recall hundreds of examples people’s kindness and courtesy, regardless of the country where I was, I believe that in the case of Iran the “surprise” is due to negative image that the Western media give of this country. It does not seem possible that the citizens of an anti-western and traditionalist Islamic theocracy, where the Sharia is the law of reference, can be warm, friendly and even expansive towards Western travellers, who are supposed to be “infidels” trying to corrupt the local youth. The surprise to find so open and sympathetic people towards foreigners is the result of bias, combined with the prejudice, which comes from American propaganda, that  would like to submit to the Westerner rules this country that, among other things, is a  large producers of oil and natural gas and therefore it is to be stripped of these natural wealth …

At five in the afternoon of April 12, I was waiting for my turn to passport control in the vast hall of the customs at the port of Sharjah, a small emirate a few miles from Dubai. The hall is divided into two distinct areas, respectively for single men and families, meaning married women with their husbands and children. The latter were checked first, although there was not a real recognition of the ladies who did not show their face covered with a full “niqab” and who did not even get up from their chair. In fact, the immigration officers trusted the photographs on the passport, I believe unveiled!, shown them by the husbands. Given this procedure of identification, or better lack of identification, I understand the reaction of Muslims in Europe where ladies are asked to show their face to check their identity, it must seem to be an absurd claim of Europeans, unthinkable in their countries.  Boarding the ferry to Iran it was fast enough. I personally brought the bicycle in the cargo hold already loaded with cars, trucks, six horses in their trailers and two motorcycles that, I later discovered, belonged to two senior British bikers riding back home from Dubai after ending their professional careers in the UAE and thus beginning their pensioner’s life. Moving away from the coast, this twinkling of Dubai skyscrapers is impressive and, with its 828 meters world record height, the Burj Khalifa distinctly stands out, being visible to no less than 30 miles. On April 13 at nine in the morning, I landed in Bandar-E Abbas, Iran’s largest port on the Persian Gulf, therefore simply called “bandar”: the port. Of the approximately 200 passengers of the ferry we, the three Westerners, were the last to receive the entry stamp on the passport and not before a small third-degree aiming at clarifying the reasons for our presence in that land and making sure that we were not nosy journalists. I reached the city centre and went to a bank where I had confirmation that, because of the embargo and the “war on terror”, Iran is out of Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, etc. networks, so everything must be paid in cash. That branch of Mellat Bank did not have an exchange desk and the director instructed an employee to accompany me to the nearest exchange shop a few hundred meters far away. Rich of 6,400,000 Rials (400 Euros), with the bearded face of the Ayatollah Khomeini, father of the Islamic Republic of Iran printed on each bill, and accompanied by a group of boys on scooters who took me to almost all hotels in town, I found a small one for the night. In the nearby internet café I discovered that both Facebook and my blog, same as the CNN and BBC websites, are blocked by the state censorship, although the block can easily bypassed with a VPN.

I acquired a  local SIM card,  and the next day I took the highway A79 which climbs gradually up to 900 meters. It is the Iranian plateau, whose peaks reach up to 2500 meters and its rocky slopes are absolutely devoid of vegetation, while the valleys are dotted with thorn bushes and just a few slim cactus. The air is so dry that the sweat evaporates immediately, so that I did not get what little relief the perspiration should provide on my skin. Accustomed to India, a country with one of the highest density population in the world and where villages or a service station are at least every 20 miles, this first day cycling in Iran, in areas very sparsely populated, I could not find a single town or a place to buy food and water for the first 70 miles. I arrived at night with my stomach in painful cramps and so dehydrated that my lips had become two hard peels, while my throat was so dry that any attempt to swallow what little saliva my body produced was an agonizing activity. My salvation was the only shop in the tiny village of Qotbabad where I purchased a gallon of water, drank within two hours, and I had canned food for dinner. From that first day, I learned a fundamental lesson to survive in the desert: always carry a good amount of water that, even though it weighs like stones, could make the difference between life and death. Since then, I have always with me a good stock of food such as canned beans, peas, lentils and eggplant, as well as fresh products such as tomatoes and fava beans bought directly from the farmers who sell them on the roadside, or energetic dry food like biscuits, dates and figs. One of the pleasures I enjoy visiting a new country is to taste local products, although in today’s globalized world the exact same good, manufactured and distributed by  few international corporations, can be found in different states. In Iran, due to the embargo, such global products are missing, and the country lives in a kind of self-sufficient food regime, making the discovery of native products even more interesting. That first night on Iranian roads, I camped about ten miles after Qotbabad. The tent was already set, when two guys on a motorbike approached me and, speaking in Farsi, tried to explain me that there was a problem with the place I chose to spent the night. After a while, I could understand the word “wadi” that in Arabic means river. In fact, the tent was in the bed of a stream that, although at the moment dry, could be flooded with rain falling on the mount peaks during the night. The danger was real for the sky was cloudy, so I packed again my stuff and followed them to what I thought to be their house or something similar, instead they took me on a hill five miles away where there was a hut inhabited by two elderly men who allowed me pitch the tent in their garden under two eucalyptus trees. I thanked the boys who jumped on the saddle on the scooter and disappeared into the darkness …

TO BE CONTINUED

Ok, year 2010 and the beginning of this 2011 have not been that prolific for Monkeyrockworld. Without getting into too many details, I just would like to say that having to deal with an Asian university flamboyant requirements and trying to jet start a freelance writing career, without counting house and “da wifey” administration, is not the ideal situation to sit down and write. I also didn’t travel that much, in the first place, although yes, I do have many reports about Sri Lanka and my return to China still to pen down. Anyways, what I care to write now is about something I got back in. I did not think this would happen, but eventually, it did: I’m back into the music scene again. It seems I cannot get rid of this passion of mine; for it is too strong to be neglected… so let it be. I did not think also that an apparently sleepy place like Penang could hide so much underground talent… I knew Malaysia was full of hardcore, metal and punk, but all those kids seemed like hidden under rocks until three weeks ago more or less, when I shot a few emails here and there resulting in fast ties with the cream of the crop of East Asian punk, some metal and hardcore scenes.

This also resulted in a quick and crucial acquaintance with the guys in WEOT SKAM, Penang’s longest running thrashcore band. And here I am after a few words over some iced lemon tea and roti canai, being the lead shredder in the band: yesterday I played my first ever show in Asia, and first show in almost 4 years. This is quite an event that has to be documented with a show review. I decided that, as long as I will be involved in this kind of music in Asia, I will dedicate ample space to it on Monkeyrockworld. For two reasons: MonkeyROCKworld… but so far, there has not been a lot of ROCK, excluding many great, beautiful ancient stones I visited in the greater Asian region. And second, because to my knowledge, there is NO WEBSITE written by a white guy in Asia documenting its endeavors in the exciting, booming alternative music scene. So, as a motivation booster and a plan for personal research and desire to bring great news to the music world, here I come to fill a void… Asian bands, if you are reading this thanks to the power of the SEO science, please get in touch.

SCUM FUCT LABOUR, May 1^st 2011 @ Soundmaker, Penang -- Gig Review

Featuring: Deng Deng etc. (KL), WEOT SKAM (Penang), Hui Si Di Dai (Penang),  Nonserviam (Penang), Angkara (Kulim)

First of all, let me tell you, Penang has a rock venue called Soundmaker, situated on the first floor of a quite anonymous building along Pengkalan Weld, Jetty area. Keep the Jetty to your left, walk for about 400 meters and look on your right on the opposite side of the road: when you see the poster of a black bomb on a yellow background, oh yes, that is where you gotta climb up. This place is amazing and remembers me of a more professional squat, in the sense that the atmosphere is totally DIY/underground, but the show room is big, and the stage pretty professional, with PA and everything.

First on stage were 等等etc. or better Deng Deng Etc. from KL, Soundscape recording artists. Three strait-chinese guys who, despite a not so good turnout, delivered one hell of a gig. Churning out a blend of different influences from their amps, they came out as a prehistorically aggressive version of “Bleach” era Nirvana, spazzed out by total grindcore outbursts of screaming rage, and sophisticated jazzy parts. Deng Deng etc. really surprised me because they definitely had a sound of their own, and it was a shame they had to open, especially being the out of town band.

Second, yours truly and WEOT SKAM hit the stage. It’s not a good habit to rave about your own band, so I’d just cut it short saying that according to Kit Yeng who does not understand anything about hardcore punk yet, we were perfect because the crowd had a hell of a good time. Greatest moments: me playing guitar using the top of some kids’ heads, and the drummer losing the beat and start jumping all over the drum set. It just felt good to be able to release some hate on stage after 4 years, and I felt like I popped some cherry at the end of it. Wow. Next month we’ll be supporting Earache’s own Wormrot so I guess things are profiling high for the band.

Hui Si Di Dai took the stage as the third band: this is Cheong’s band, the guy behind the whole Soundmaker thing. This band is a powerful experimental rock combo, with tight drumming, and jazzy guitar parts… the two songs they played tonight were graced by the stage presence of another tattooed Chinese singer, extra drums the real singer was strumming like crazy, and good vibes. They probably got off stage way too early, but definitely left the crowd wanting for more.

Next there was probably someone else but I’m sorry, I had to go downstairs to eat something and have a drink. The thing is, in this Malaysian shows the bands play for a very short time, sometimes less than 20 minutes. If this feature keeps the variety high and the suck-balls level low, it is definitely easy to miss a band. So when I got back in, Nonserviam were playing. They feature WEOT SKAM’s bassist Leon on vocals and are a Chinese death metal band deeply rooted into the Scandinavian sound. You could see and hear how they sport In Flames t-shirts and riffs… Leon is a great front man, tall and really comfortable in dominating the stage and the front rows of rabid kids grasping his arms and legs at each of his massive growls. Without being too extreme, Nonserviam are a classy death metal band able to blend melodic and powerful riffs with a more lethal execution of crunching fast tempos. I may say tough, the only criticism I can appoint is that besides Leon, the other band members get too busy with their instruments, and forget they are actually facing a crowd. I’m sure these young chaps will improve this aspect overtime. Their musicianship, on the other hand, is great and able to  deliver some great songs which can be instant classics. Definitely, one of the best bands of the night. Check out their official video:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=btLdyaj1EZ4

Last were Angkara from Kulim, a small township at the edge of the forest of Kedah state. Man, if they were not Malays and I closed my eyes, here it is Mob47 performing in front of me!! Total classic crust/d-beat as it can be played by a bunch of Finnish thugs. They had the looks, with those spiked jackets all plastered with patches of bands such as Krighshot, Tragedy, Mob47, Wolfbrigade and so on, and they had the crusty skills and speed, but I must say, a little bit more of originality would do Angkara a lot of good. Do not misunderstand me: they perfectly do what they want to do, but I think they have to pass the idolatry phase, and move on to craft a sound more of their own. If they did that, oh my!

All in all, the evening was quite fantastic and gave me infinite happiness. Not only because I got back on stage again, but especially because it was cool to be in one place where people are actually enjoying the local bands, and do not strike any stupid pose or act like they’ve seen it all before. This was the biggest problem in Europe, let me tell you. The reason why I decided to get back into this, and here in Asia, is simply because here there is still a lot of energy, involvement, and excitement. I guess I am just lucky because it appears this is the place to be for punk, rock and metal, these days and age.

So keep tuned and sorry to the other bands for the lack of pictures, but our SD card decided to play a delayed April’s Fool game and ate up half of them leaving us with the WEOT SKAM pictures only… Well, it will be for the next time…

It’s impossible for me to write my blogs regularly these days. I am sure things will change, but you have to bear with my current situation. Too many things to do, and write, especially. Be patient, one day I will find the recipe for a balanced life of writing, earning the buck, and great world travel. Meanwhile, I just do the best I can not to let the best independent (and motherfuckin’) opinion on life in Asia to vanish in the internet limbo of  neglected sites.   By the way, let’s go back to Sri Lanka, that lovely tear-shaped island crying out from the bottom of India. My only regret was having visited in the midst of the Holiday Season, when prices and tourists soar higher, and higher, and higher. But besides having to shell out a minimum of 10 dollars a night for a double room with beds  mostly stinking like death put his head on the pillow and exhaled her last breath just there, it was a good trip. The island is small and compact, getting anywhere takes time, but the buses are very cheap, overcrowded and fun. I criss-crossed the place: if I had had an extra week, I would have made it up to Jaffna. It will be for the next time. First of all, the feeling: this place doesn’t feel like India. It is bustling, but more controlled. The people are nice and talkative, but they do not ask the same sate of bio data every tenth second. The place is definitely South Asia, but it mostly smells nicer. This said, I also found that the level of poverty is not as bad as what I saw in India just 6 months before. And compared to Malaysia, it looks like Sri Lanka has everything except for the infrastructures, the skyscrapers and the wi-fi everywhere. This might be considered as a good asset, for me. But let’s break the highlights of the journey down into a series of dedicated posts.

The best part of Sri Lanka, to me, it’s not the beaches. These are quite ok, but being the Indian ocean, swimming is quite rough. If you like to be bounced up and down and hit against the bottom of the sea by titanic waves tough, Sri lanka might be the place for you. To me, the best is found in the Hill Country. This central part of the island, green, lush, verdant, completely covered in tea carpets and estates which look like they come out from a 1800′s British setting, is truly inspiring. Kandy, second biggest city and gateway to the region, was an ok introduction. A bit too many touts tough. And it was funny to find most of them in the local bar, that same night. Whenever they asked me for a drink, they seemed to have already forgotten that they stopped me on the street 5 times during the day. “Do you want to check the tradtional dance show? It is on only today, special day of the year!”.

Bullshit. There is such a show every damn day of the year, so you’ve been warned. And if the guy starts following you around for kilometers, just pretend you are deaf, dumb and blind. These Kandyan touts are particularly persistent, I dare to say. And quite strung out as well, since they would easily forget about having harassed you in minutes, and would definitely end up walking at your side more than twice while you stroll along the same 500 meters on the same bloody sidewalk. Besides this, Kandy is nice, with an inspiring central lake, and rolling verdant hills all around. Stay in the forest, if possible, to guarantee yourself the best views over the neighboring valleys.

The best part of this trip is to take a slow train from Kandy or a few other stops on the route (Nuwara Elliya, Ella, Haputale to name a few)  and venture deep into the realms of tea, mist and cold. Yep, Sri Lanka can be cold around these latitudes, so be prepared to take out your sweater. I surely did, and cursed my once European blood, now reduced to a thick layer of tropical eased red magma. Gimme less then 20 degrees celsius, and I’ll start screaming for help. Ella, that sweet spot stuck in the hillsides and graced by the beautiful Litte Adam’s Peak was definitely a highlight. Kicked back, touristy (oh yes) but definitely too laid back to be destroyed, Ella gave us a glimpse into Sri Lankan rural village life when we met a couple folks looking for a missed cow and we ended up parting in their little house. Here I met Number One, forever-smiling patriarch of a gracious family of many children and girls so stunningly beautiful and with such incredibly withe smiles I had a problem in getting off their sofa. Number One was very small, and always smiling to me. Whatever I told him, he was always smiling and nodding with his whole earth sunk into his firm handshake. They loved us, and we loved them.

Me and Number One, rocking in the Hood

In Ella, I also learned that missing cows can get lost because they are able to climb staircases and like to graze the weeds along the paths to sacred mountains and temples. Or maybe just enjoy to see the rocking views. In Ella, I also proved that being a foreigner in Sri Lanka can raise the price of a kottu rotti (amazing blend of spices and roasted bread, chopped up to pieces and served hot and spicy) to twice its original value only because your face is pale. Or Chinese, for all that matters. But what can we do, in this crazy, pretentious, unsettling tourist world? Probably just sob down, and empty the wallets. Or not complain because the triple room we paid 1000 rupees per night was priced 3000 to my friend’s Chilean family two nights later. The unsettling drawbacks of travelling can definitely create puzzling questions… like this high, on flowers, and memorial fire, I’m on at the moment.

Here we go with the second and last part of Matteo Tricarico‘s report of a month spent in Taiwan volunteering for “Harmony Home Association” helping children with HIV/AIDS. Matteo is now back in Nepal and is heading westwards, down to India first, and into Pakistan and central Asia proper on his long way back cycling to Europe… Monkeyrockworld likes to follow and share his adventures, please show support too!!

The first morning I woke up late and after a quick shower I descended to the ground floor to the loud sounds of children laughing, crying, shouting, playing and doing what youngster’s normally do. What a wonderful scene presented to my eyes! These little human beings were just adorable, busy with their vociferous activities; some of them stared at me with their narrow eyes, looking with a mix of curiosity and fear to see a new face, long in shape, with blondish hair and a big nose between two wide eyes. The Filipina, who took upon herself the task to look after me in almost the same way she would have done if I were another child, served me breakfast and introduced me to the rest of the staff: all Taiwanese women with the exception of a Burmese and an Indonesian girl. In fact, I was the only male resident in the building and, therefore, the children quickly, and naturally, identified me with the paternal figure, calling me “pa pa”! Being in my early 40s, unmarried and childless – at least none of my ex-girlfriends has informed me of fatherhood -, this situation was quite a shocking and a dramatic change to my life. I quickly fitted in the daily routine of the shelter. Initially, lacking any experience in the babies’ management business, my handling of the children was awkward and clumsy, but I guess, after a while, Mother Nature kicks in and one instinctively knows how to deal with young creatures. By the time I left Taiwan, I could properly hold, feed, diaper change and cradle a baby in my arms until he would stop crying. I even understood most of his immediate needs by the way he was crying for hunger or mourning for tiredness. Merry moments for the kids were the weekend days spent outdoor in amusement parks, fairs or at the night market. That required a good deal of logistic and extra people, mostly volunteers, to look after the children, who incidentally would run about trying different merry-go-rounds. The older ones, aged 10 or 12, were also keeping attentive eyes on the youngsters and behaved like older brothers would to younger sisters, showing the solidarity of a real large family. Normally, I was assigned to four children aged five and six, the easiest to control. I also had the only disabled one of the company, who could not walk, so I carried him on my shoulders. The more time I spent with the children, the more they got accustomed to my presence and they would come up to me for food or drink, to recover a toy taken away by another child. They would even exploit my soft heart to get things that the nannies would forbid them, like candies and chocolate kept on shelves safely out of their reach. As much as they got used to me, I got used to them, to their shouting and crying and, in time, I also managed to isolate myself from their presence around me to do my personal things, like to keep my correspondence and update my travel blog without being distracted by them.

The first week of my stay in Taipei, I spent most of my time with the kids and only left the shelter for short walks in the surrounding areas. However, my life suddenly changed with the return of Nicole from her trip to America. Nicole is the founder, cornerstone and soul of the association and I was honoured to have met such a positive, generous and inspiring person. I learned much from her on how love for people in need and personal determination can alleviate the suffering of so many young and old human beings. Like a Circus that would parade exotic animals to get spectators to the performance, she made the best use out of me by taking me with her to various schools, universities, an Army base and even to a female prison for an information campaign on HIV-AIDS. I had up to 30 minutes to present my sporty-humanitarian project, to show some of my videos, and to tell my travelling experiences. Nicole has a great sense of humour and she applied it while translating my speech from English to Chinese, by adding her own funny comments to my words with the result to make the audience burst in happy and loud laugh. I am also glad that she exploited my presence in Taiwan to generate media coverage for the association organising two events: a cycling tour of Daan park in Taipei with the children following me on their small bicycles and the cycling crossing of the island from the capital to south in Ping Tong, where the association manages another shelter for HIV-positive patients. Frankly, I was amazed by the media attention that these two events attracted, but, I guess, that an Italian cycling throughout Asia with a humanitarian purpose, doing volunteer work in Taiwan, it is not a piece of news that local media can report every day.

It is almost two weeks since I have returned to Kathmandu before continuing my journey to India and then westwards and I feel sad and miserable… I feel like I have been cast under a spell by the children of Harmony Home who, not only have settled themselves in my heart forever, but have also placed their smiling little faces in my subconscious, popping up in my unconscious dreaming. They are not leaving me alone even in my conscious daily thinking! I sincerely miss living with those disadvantaged young human creatures and the adults who look after them. The short time I lived with them in Taipei, they made me feel at home, active and, I also hope, useful.

Matteo Tricarico

www.travelforaid.com