A Phnom Penh(y) For Your Thoughts or I Didn't Use a (Phnom) Penh To Write This I Used a Keyboard

Cambodia, glorious land of pyjamas, inappropriate topiary and somehow humorous adverts dsiencouraging child prostitution.

The women here wear pyjamas everywhere (literally pyjamas - they are decorated with whimsical designs of babies sleeping and sheep leaping over fences).

The topiary is ubiquitous and seems to be done to every living plant imaginable - from hedgerows to mighty oaks!

The adverts star a little stick-pervert in a kind of comic strip. Firstly he gets on a plane, secondly he gets a hotel room holding a stick-child's hand and next we see him clinging desperately to the bars of his prison cell with an anguished stick-grimace.

We are now in Phnom Penh - Cambodia's capital city. In short - here is the report:

National Museum: Rough Guide says "take at least 2 hours to explore". Our survey says "take five minutes to walk round three hundred slightly differing statues of the Buddha".

Grand Palace: Rough Guide says "visit the glorious silver pagoda and the Royal Throne". Our survey says "spend a few minutes looking at another statue of the Buddha and then some silver floor tiles".

I am beginning to become the worlds leading enemy of idolatry.

With the sights dissappointing all that was really left to do was go out - and go out we did to the world famous "Heart of Darkness" Bar. Mad dancing with the locals ensued alongside our new Kiwi friend Carly who is heading to London in the opposite direction to us. One guy was wearing a flat cap similar to those worn by Cambodian soldiers during Pol Pot's reign of terror. International opinion (well mine and Jayne's anyway) is split as to whether he was wearing this hat through coincidence (Jayne) or in irony (James). The guide book is again slightly innaccurate when it comes to Phnom Penh's nightlife - claiming that there is an arrogant middle class youth that frequents the late night bars - Cap Guy and his friends proved to be very nice giving me free beer (not laced with rohypnol) and dancing the tango with Jayne and strangely enough myself.

The next day was wisely spent lazing in bed although we did manage to book a tour to the infamous Killing Fields.

The Fields are unsurprisingly an unnerving experience. For a start I thought the mass graves would be much bigger in size. Its horrifically surprising how many bodies can fit into one small hole. The biggest grave contained over 400 bodies all in a space 6m deep, 3m wide and about 6m long. Most people were killed with blunt instruments, children were killed by holding their ankles and flinging them into trees or throwing them in the air and piercing them with a bayonet.

There are many people still alive in Cambodia who were involved with Pol Pot's regime. Many lower ranked people have served jail sentences although Pol Pot never faced a court and died in excile in the late 90s. Its very hard to imagine how these people must feel now - they were after all victims themselves of coercion and brainwashing (soldiers who refused to kill dissenters etc were executed themselves along with their families). I wonder whether they have a detachment to it, live in a state of shock or still believe in their actions. In all it is estimated that about two to three million people were killed and the vast majority of the population is now under the age of 25.

Next door to the Killing Fields site there is a school and the cries of the children float over the graves. Thunder cracks and the clouds draw in and suddenly we find ourselves talking about affable Irishman Ronan Keating as he is performing in Phnom Penh tonight (as if Pol Pot wasn't enough!). The whole scene is fairly bizarre and I find myself making the guide laugh when i tell her I don't like Boyzone.

We are now in Vietnam and although the topiary and pyjama wearing has sprung up again like Rocky in the final rounds, we haven't done anything of note yet. Will fill you in when we do.

Love

James and Jayne

Angkor.What? Not another bloody temple!

Hi there everyone. Well after the hedonism and wild living of bangkok for a second time, we are now in cambodia the land of eerie temple ruins, land mines, child sex tourisn and apparently cultural performances of shadow puppetry.

Our first stop was Siem Reap, a city slap in the middle of the Angkor temples which seems to have developed over the past few years at a phenonenal rate purely to support the massive influx of tourists who come here to see Angkor Wat. It's mostly made up luxury hotels, backpacker guesthouses, huge 'souvenir shops' and overpriced bars and restaurants. Even though it sounds awful there's something really pleasant about the place. Maybe after the 15 hour journey from Bangkok which included 7 hours driving on the worst road imaginable in a bus that had definately seen better days any place would seem pleasant?

Anyway along with 15 million japanese tourists we decided to buy 3 day passes to really explore angkor. It really was amazing to see Angkor Wat and the hundreds of other fascinating temples in various stages of ruin. The temples were only "discovered" by the western world in the early 1900's but they are so steeped in history and myth that walking around inside the huge temple complexes made me feel as though I was stepping back in time. So different to seeing exhibits in a museum. The experience was slightly marred by the crowds of tourists and being mobbed by aggressive children who desperatly competed with each other to sell you a cold drink. These kids could speak 4 or 5 languages but never went to school and had no understanding of what they were saying but would repeat phrases like "maybe later","lovely jubbly", and even sing beatles songs at you. Cute until you wouldnt buy anything from them and then...Ive never been given such daggers!

After getting up at sunrise to visit Angkor and sated with culture, the afternoon was pleasantly spent lazing by a pool side bar owned by an alcoholic ex soldier. As we were his only customers he thought it best to sit and get sloshed whilst lecturing us on the ways of army life and giving us a bitter diatribe about the unfairness of the lonely planet guide. We ended up sneaking out as he stared morosely into space.

From Siam Reap another sticky, bumpy bus ride brought us to Phenonh Penh the capitol of Cambodia. Phenonh Penh ticks all the boxes for an Asian city (pollution, road side food stalls, suicidal tuk tuk drivers, cheap beer and food) but has an unmistakable European feel to it. The buildings are very colonial and the baguettes are very French. I could quite happily wile away a few days here drinking coffee and watching the world go by but being a diligent traveller decided to "do the sights". After a day sightseeing we thought we would reward ourselves with a couple of drinks. A "couple of drinks" turned into dancing till half three with the rich kids of Phenomh Penh to cheesy disco and even cheesier R&B...I dont know if they watch alot of MTV here but those kids can dance! They put mine and James's drunken attempt at a tango to shame (or maybe we did that ourselves!) Anyway the hangover the next was not pleasant and I dont think visiting the National Genocide Museum was the best idea.

More to come soon on the Killing Fields, and general Cambodian pursuits.

love Jayne xx

new photos!!

Hello new photos can be seen at

http://picasaweb.google.com/hidinginyourcupboard/2ndAlbum

James and Jayne

Koh take a walk!

Once again Bangkok languishes in Holiday while I am here - which results in raucous nights and lazy days as everything (conveniently enough for my hangover) is shut.

I think we were about to go sea kayaking the last time I wrote. It was a pleasant trip through mangrove swamps and hungry monkeys (enticed by our pineapple bait). My navigation skills left something to be desired though as Jayne and I quite frequently found ourselves propelled at speed into unsuspecting trees.

From here we were advised to go to Koh Lanta rather than Koh Phi Phi - as it is supposedly less touristy and more picturesque. Unfortunately when we arrive there the place is deserted and the food terrible (so unusual in Thailand) so we decide to just spend a night there. A relatively uneventful evening was enlivened when we met Su, a Thai man whose English name is apparently Jayne. He has very good English and informs us that he went to University to study Leisure and Tourism. In Thailand this seems to be a very different degree to the drop out subject in England. Tourism is Thailand's major industry so a degree in Tourism is very important. The teaching of the degree is somewhat dubious though as they seem to make people cling to social stereotypes - for instance Su told us that if he met an English person he would be told to say:

"Oh I love the Queen's English" and to offer us an imaginary discount.

American: "oh your country is so big!"

Irish: "The irish people are so witty but I am sure you enjoy a drink yes?"

Japanese people will apparently buy anything and never barter and German people never buy anything always believing that they can get it cheaper and better elsewhere.

Su was also surprised that he would not stand out in England because of the colour of his skin which he wished was paler. Something many people in India were surprised about.

From Lanta we moved on to Koh Phi Phi which i suppose provides one with the archetypal vision of Thailand. Azure sea napping white soft sand. This does come at a cost - Koh Phi Phi seems to be about three times as expensive as anywhere else.

Koh Phi Phi was the most affected place in Thailand after the Tsunami. On the main road in the tourist resort there is a Banyan tree wrapped in yellow ribbons which serves as a memorial - the Thai people bow to it as they walk past. Some of the damage is still apparent - some buildings haven't been rebuilt where people have run out of money. There are some photos of this on the blog.

One bar stays open late on Phi Phi - the Reggae Bar. Each night they encourage drunk tourists to fight in their boxing ring for free drinks. The men fighting really went for eachother - it was quite sad watching these two men start fighting as a joke but then start to seriously hit eachother as everyone else looked on and cheered.

From Phi Phi to Ao Nang on the mainland where Jayne and I had to take it easy due to funds. We spent one day in bed watching films and contemplated staying there for the rest of the trip and just making up the rest of it!

In Ao Nang the sex industry is very apparent. As usual Jayne and I accidentally ended up in a bar in the Red Light District and we were mobbed by Thai "bar" girls trying to drag us into their establishment. I am quite torn on this subject - as to its rights and wrongs. Ideally, I don't think any women should have to work in the sex industry but the problem here is not as black and white as it would seem.

Many men come here because they are old and feel unwanted in Europe where they are thought of as 'past it'' and unattractive (there is nothing quite as excrutiatingly embarassing as seeing a man over the age of 50 trying it on (and failing) with the new 18 year old bar girl at his local pub). Here, although they are of course paying for this feeling, they feel wanted and useful, there is a greater deal of respect for older people in Thailand than in Europe. They are obviously living a lie but it seems a lie they are happy to live with.

The funniest thing I have ever seen happened two days ago - a whore-imbibing-gentlmen (as I like to call them) had obviously run out of steam with his personal girl of choice and resolved to take her out in a kayak. I watched for twenty minutes as they went round in circles, capsizing and crashing into various rocks - he got progressively more and more red-faced and she just didn't give a monkeys - she lay back and didn't row at all, indolently dragging her manicured fingers through the water.

On the other hand some of the men are extremely seedy about the whole thing and at the end of the day, despite some sympathy (or pity) one may engender for these men, they are exploiting someone. All these exchanges boil down to lust, rejection and money so nobody comes out a winner. Throughout Asia people are forced to surrender their dignity in the name of poverty simply because Western people are a lot richer than them. Many people complain about scams and dishonesty here, but I ask you - what would you do if you had no money and were surrounded by overweight, I-pod wearing, nefariously whoring, money drizzling imbeciles. It is very easy to think yourself honest when your wallet is fat.

(As I write this (originally by hand on a bus going from Thailand to Cambodia) an American girl has just turned round to me and asked 'excuse me, do you know which of the border's we are going through?" - all fine except for the fact that she did little quotation marks with her fingers as she said borders. Now unless she sees the world as one big country and that borders are but abstract concepts I'm not sure what her little sign means. Do she not think the border is real or perhaps that Thailand and Cambodia are the same country. The border is real and its a complete pain in the arse to get through (13 different stamps in total and my passport was checked three times))

The next evening we are joined at our table outside the seven eleven (cheap beer being our motivation for this classy seat) by a Swiss man who owns a hotel in Ao Nang. He turns out to be more a fan of Thai boys than ladies and hinted heavily that he had used prostitutes before. Next we are joined by another Swiss guy who manages one of the bars in the Red Light District. He has the opinion that Thai people either can't or won't "think ahead", they live entirely for the moment and never have ambition or interest in anything further than their daily needs. This is obviously untrue and he is an obnoxious character with little foresight himself.

This trip is turning into a den of vice!

We return to Bangkok and meet Kaz - a charming Japanese guy who spent three years in London and recently tried to throw himself off a building after his girlfriend left him. After spending a night out clubbing he invites us to watch Spiderman 3 with him at the cinema the next day - I think this film might give him ideas so I advise against it.

As you know we are now in Cambodia and have seen the Temples of Angkor Wat today - however as this entry is already very long and rambling all over the place - I'll write about it later.

Hope everyone is good.

Love

James and Jayne

Bangkrocked

I have had something of a dicky tummy in Bangkok - ironically enough seeing as we escaped such misfortune in 'dirty' India. It may have something to do with the local whiskey though (actually rum) as many people seem to have a similar problem. Am fully recovered now and Jayne and I are residing in Krabi - soon to do some sea kayaking and make our way to the island of Koh Lanta.

As Jayne mentioned we arrived in BKK during Songkram - the Thai new year and as she also mentioned this entails a five day water fight. You can't step out of your hotel room for more than twenty seconds without returning drenched. Obviously this is good fun, but unfortunately it makes for rather poor blog entries as there are only so many times that I can regale you with an hilarious tale of throwing a bucket of cold water over some unsuspecting child. I will nevertheless attempt to describe the scene at least once - although there will be photos and soon you will be thrilled to know there will also be video footage.

Rama I is Bangkok's main thoroughfare and, due to the Thai people's real love of their monarchy, is lined with with paintings of the King and his family. Some are just portraits and others are sort of contemporary action scenes. Imagine Oxford Street lined with photographs of Charles pretending to be Camilla's tampon, Fergie sucking a millionaire's toe or Harry giving the Nazi salute and you'll have something of the opposite that occurs here.

Normally Rama I is a wide pleasant road with little traffic except at rush hour. During Songram the street is a crush of Thai's and travellers all throwing water at eachother and rubbing dough into eachothers faces.

Naturally, a few drunk English people take things a bit too far, buying supersoakers and imagining themselves as a bermuda shorted Andy McNabb, lurking behind corners and generally not following Sangkrom ettiquette - that is: dont soak any old person who isnt joining in, anyone with food or anyone who is working (with the exception of the police who take the punishment with good grace and are not impartial to giving someone a good soaking themselves).

We manage a couple of nights out which rather inevitably sees us drinking buckets: a mix of Sangsom (Thai rum) coke and Thai Red Bull (about 14 times as strong as our own diluted stuff). All sorts of exciting and mundane characters were met but the one that sticks in the mind is Enrique - a part Guatamalen, part Brazillian, part Australian with long dreadlocks and a face like Ronaldinho's. To top this off he wears a Barcelona T-shirt with Ronaldinho pasted onto the back.

His English is very good and we chat into the wee hours about him liking very tall girls, Gabriel Garcia Marquez and The Office. He teaches English as a second language which is slightly worrying as he has a somewhat comic mastery of it. The funniest thing he says revolves around an amusing interlude with his exgirlfriend and her mother. His exgirlfriend's mother had been slightly flustered at the prospect of meeting her daughter's new part Guatemalan part Brazillian boyfriend and somehow came to the decision that the appropriate thing to do would be to take him to the local drag queen show in Sydney. Enrique went along, amused but unpeturbed until his girlfriend and girlfriend's mother retired to the ladies room - while left alone Enrique was approached by a gay man who asked him (well according to the way Enrique tells it - begs him in a quite extraordinarily camp manner) to buy him a drink. Enrique, although no homophobe - he insists, isn't into this and only relents to his request (and here is the coup de grace readers!) after "at least half an hour of him buggering me". I'm not sure if he saw my childish and stifled laugh but it worries me that Enrique teaches English as a second language - soon we'll all be getting extremely buggered off with all the incorrect usage.

We eventually grab gold-dust-like train tickets to get out of Bangkok and arrive at the train station dry due to cunningly taking a taxi rather than a rickshaw. We enter the station and sort out a couple of formalities and then have to stop in our tracks as the Thai National Anthem is played. As previously written - the Thai's are very fond of their King and it is actually against the law to insult him or deface his picture. Infact, a Swedish man, whose name escapes me, was recently sentenced to ten years imprisonment for defacing images of the King. The King's not such a bad chap though and pardonned the man after a few weeks. This is a law that anarchic Jayne has no fear in breaking - in the last day she has said the Queen "has put on a bit of weight" and accidentally compared the Royal family to Thailand's version of the Battersbys from Corrie.

As the anthem comes on everyone, approximately 500-700 people, stood up as one and sung their hearts out - they certainly put English footballers to shame at any rate. We take the overnight train and then a bus to Krabi - a riviera town where one can get some of the best cooked food in Thailand down at the River Market. It can be quite hard to work out how to get the best food here as there are a plethora of stalls and they are mainly used by Thai people who seem to know instinctively what they are doing. We try a couple of places and get an odd variety - some very greasy noodles, delicious garlic pork yet served in an unfeasibly small portion, a wonderfully fragrant vegetable Thai Green Curry and pork stir fried with Calare greens (a little like asparagus if it flaunted leaves rather than its customary spear) which was a fresh tasting, moreish dish.

Its low season here now so Krabi feels a little deserted, tomorrow we are going sea kayaking and my prowess as a navigator and rower will no doubt come to the fore again much as it did when I had that job ferrying BMW Bikes across the channel.

Hope everyone is feeling well and good.

Lots of love James and Jayne xxxxx

PS. The next blog may be hot on the heels of this one as I have got slightly behind schedule!

Ad Hoc Bangkok

After a very long and uneventful 24 hour journey we have arrived safely in Thailand. The differences between India and Thailand were apparent as soon as we stepped of the plane. James kind of knew what to expect as he's a regular here but I feel as if I have become so acustomed to the way of life in India (the way of life for a couple of travellers that is) that for me it was a lovely surprise just to be surprised again.

Firstly as I approached the main taxi rank with a sinking feeling bracing myself for the expected onslaught of aggressive touts and leering men I noticed that no one was looking at me. In India I was constantly stared at just because I am pale skinned, a woman and not in a Burka. Secondly a taxi tout approached us, 'taxi sir'. 'NO' I growled at him in my 'do not mess with us we are seasoned travellers even though I dont have a clue where Im going voice'. He then smiled at us and walked of!!!! The Indian touts do not give up, they will even follow you out on to a dual carriage way without looking, all the time screeching 'very cheap price!'. I even managed to sit and have a fag outside the airport next to the taxi queue without an audience of giggling children, staring ladies and crotch grabbing men!

The second difference I noted between Thai and Indian people occured when James and I found ourselves in a bit of a pickle. James went to get some cash out of the ATM but his card was refused. We have had ongoing problems with our bank since we left the UK. No matter how many times we tell HSBC that we are in Asia and will be visitng many different countries they still insist on temporarily and always at the most inconvenient times, barring the cards. Anyway, we were stuck in Bangkok airport with no local currency, and about 20 Sri Lankan rupees to our name. If this situation had occurred in India we would have been swarmed with people trying to help, offering lifts on their mopeds to a million different ATM's, promising us the loan of their Grandma's savings and generally making our problem very much their problem. Used to this attitude of helpfulness mixed with nosiness I assumed that all we had to do was explain the problem and someone would let us use a phone to call the bank, have the block removed and reimburse them when we had been able to get money from the ATM. Nope. Emirates couldnt help us, the bank couldnt help us, the peolpe at the currency exchange couldnt help us, the lady at the 'Can I Help You Desk?' couldnt help us, infact she seemed put out at being approached. Eventually a young girl at an internet cafe took pity on frantic James and gave him her own phone card to use.

Bangkok so far has been alot of fun, the sort of fun that would not happen in India. Our last night in India was also a lot of fun, we decided to blow our budget by living it up with the Glitterati of Delhi society. The nightlife for the rich young hip things in Delhi revolves around impossibly expensive and showy hotel bars. The Delhi jeunesse all have fantastic drawling 'Hinglish' accents 'like yaar man I am thinking these tunes are rrreally hip'. The club we ended up in played a mixture of Hindi film songs (which got the dance floor heaving!) Bangra tunes and dodgy dance and trance remixes. In England it would have been terribly uncool but I have never seen so many people going for it. It was a world away from the chilled backpacker bars playing Jack Johnson for the millionth time, full of stoned Isrealis and we loved it!! I was sad to say Goodbye to India and Delhi in particular. We will definately be coming back.

So Hello Bangkok. So far we have been immersed (literally) in the Thai new year celebrations which involve huge street water fights, visited the seedy district of Patpong Market where we saw a rather half hearted sex show and eaten the best food in 2 months. More on all that soon.

Jayne xx

Goodbye India and the Coco Gokarna

We are soon to leave India. This was really brought home to me when a slightly unusual English lad, sporting a Clark Gable moustache, bundled past me out of our hotel, fixed me in the eye and said "Goodbye India". As if me entering the hotel as he was leaving the hotel meant that I was somehow arriving and he was perrenially leaving. It wasn't - I had simply left behind my wallet.

Before I get on to the subject of leaving though there are a few more tales to tell. After leaving the cliffy sanctuary of Varkala we took the train up to Gokarna. Another beach resort you will be fervently excited to hear but this one is the most deserted so far. There are only several beach shacks here and we were lucky to find one that wasn't simply a concrete altar strewn with a blanket and surrounded by the least fortuitous pigs building material of choice.

And surprisingly enough - not much happened. We met another couple called Ryan and Steph who are doing exactly the same as us (moving to New Zealand). We get on well and have invited them to meet us in Wellington for a Roast Dinner.

The only incident of note happened to Jayne. Middle aged Indian men have a nasty habit of staring at Western Girls - if they are in a bikini it drives them into some sort of pent up frenzy. Sometimes they will set next to you (well Jayne not me) and ask sexually innappropriate questions such as "Do you remove the hair on your legs for all men or for your boyfriend?" or "do women where you come from sleep with many men?". All the time trying to sneak a touch here or a touch there.

Why they think this of Western Women is of some debate. Traditionally the west is viewed (by some, especially older people) as a place with low moral standards (or broad mindedness as the pervy men like to put it!). Also the general attitude towards women in India isn't brilliant. I seem to get a lot more respect from travel agents, shopkeepers, waiters, barmen than Jayne doees which can be frustrating. There also seems to be a slightly strange attitude that men cannot help themselves if they see a beautiful, semi-naked (this being a skirt and top in India) woman and that they should either be flattered by their crotch grabing, accidental brushing and lingering stares or accept that it is their own fault for having such an outwardly licentious presence. Hollywood films don't help either as many poorer Indians view of the West is informed entirely from Film (in many cases having not met a white person before or refusing to believe that there are many Indians that live in the UK). The image of James Bond flicking his fingers and delivering some incredibly witty double-entendre before bedding a bevy of varied beauties lingers in the mind and they feel frustrated that such wanton Western women will happily bestow their charms on men from all around the world but either ignore or swat away Indians. In a sense they have a point - when was the last time you saw a lead man in a Western Film that was Indian (Daniel Day Lewis in Last of the Mohicans doesn't count), when they are portrayed they are often quite geeky and the last character in the film to actually have any success with the opposite sex. This seems to cause some resentment which may acount partially for the racist bastards that approached Jayne on the beach.

As they approached her Jayne could hear them describing her as lovely jubbly etc, and then they stood over her, stared at her and said hello. Jayne said hello back but then covered herself over to which they replied "fucking white bitches all deaf and dumb" and then walked off. Unfortunately these things obviously ocur when I am not around so its hard to do anything real about it.

This attitude does seem to be largely confined to lesser edcuated middle aged men (the younger men sem to have more manners?) and that the vast majority of Indians you meet are pleasant. In fact it is not unusual to receive vociferous assistance from bystanders (women and men) if you are touched innapropriately by a stranger.

Anyway enough of this rant!

After Gokarn we took a couple of trains up to Bombay. The land around Gokarn is quite mountainous and the track burrows through several very long tunnels. In the small service gaps along these tunnels some people appear to live or at least permanently take shelter. As the train drove past one group they all leapt up in white sheets, howling into the damp air and pretending to be ghosts. Not scary as much as highly amusing.

And then Bombay once more - a city that is part London, part New York, part Bangkok. We drive past what I assume to be slums - wooden shacks painted brightly but later realise to be quite good accomadation when we notice that they have electricity and see a postman. Their children are all dressed in school clothes, which is a good sign as very poor people use their children to work or beg. We drive past the slums on the way to the airport tonight and I shudder to think how these people live.

A few amusing points to record;

The baseball capped Indian grandad who sat next to me on the train to Bombay was a Jehovahs witness and reading a copy of their magazine "Awake". He didn't pester me for cups of tea but was reading an article entitled "Youth Questions: How Can I Avoid Homosexuality?".

The bins in South India have clearly been designed by a delusionist. I presume his idea was to make them more appealing to children or generally more aesthetic so as to encourage people to use them. An animal motif was his choice and you might think that monkeys, tigers or elephants might have been suitable choices - instead he plumped for penguins. Possibly the least likely animal to find in India. As a result the streets of Bombay are littered (spot the irony?) with open beaked, sunward looking Penguins - all of whom have conspicuously empty bellies.

More excellent TV to report. To celebrate Easter one channel devoted the weekend to showing scenes of flagellation and modern crucifixion.

And finally - my new favourite sport. Sport Stacking - where teams of repressed teenagers race against the clock to stack cvups in pyramids. Its real and details can be found at:
www.worldsportstackingassociation.org/

Please contact these people if you would like to organise a competition of your own. Perhaps you could see how fast you can stack plates as well as cups - the possibilities seem endless!




For League Information:
Reach Matt Reed Executive Director of Leagues
Direct Telephone: 1-303-962-5667
E-mail: mreed@worldsportstackingassociation.org
For Tournament Information:
Reach Pola Metz Executive Director of Tournaments
Direct Telephone: 1-303-962-5654
E-mail: pmetz@worldsportstackingassociation.org
For General Information:
Telephone: 1-303-917-4171
E-mail: info@worldsportstackingassociation.org
Fax: 1-303-962-5650
Address:P.O. Box 260526; Highlands Ranch, CO 80163-0526

Keep stacking

James And Jayne