I'm going to let Brocky do the honors when it comes to writing about our last 3 weeks together. What to expect from his account: hyperbole, outlandish references, slander (directed at me, clearly) and probably very little of it to do with what we actually did. So I'll give a brief synopsis, most of which will be impossible to understand:
Reunited in Da Nang, the 4 year gap was bridged with a talk-a-thon over butter frog legs and games of pool. We left Da Nang with urgency and arrived to a cloudy day in Hoi An. Making a mockery of the term UNESCO World Heritage Site, Hoi An is the cheapest place in SE Asia to get tailored clothes. So of course we partook--which involved more than one fight with more than one local hustler. Brock had his RayBan Wayfarers stolen by a man purporting to measure his weight. Curiosity killed the cat.
After leaving annoying American girls for dead, we headed to Hue to meet up with our new Norwegian friends. They weren't up for another round of party and we had a bus the next morning, early, to head to Laos. Brock's fizzy beer at the border experiment failed miserable. But on we went to Savannaket, my third time, and bee-lined it for Mama's House to see Jookky and her lovely sisters--whom I'd met the first time through. Dissapointingly we were neglected Super Tuesday results for the time being, but Savannaket was nevertheless a highlight. Almost as if they were mocking Vietnam, the kind folks at Mama's House could be the most affable family....ever. We were treated like kings and brought into the family within minutes.
The night bus and a 30 Rock marathon on the iPod took us to Vientiane and the next bus out took us to Vang Vieng (with a quick NASCAR style pit stop). It was a marathon of buses, otherwise known as backpacking and Brock was handling it well. In Vang Vieng we met back up with Aussie Nick (Fiddles with his Piddle) who we'd met in Hoi An and the full on party was unleashed. The story of the next 5 days is best told through photos--mostly because I don't remember all of it so clearly. That or it was just too repetitive to be interesting. Something about ropeswings, whisky, shakes, laughing, cards, and near death experiences. I knew it was time to leave when, during my last day on the river an Australian guy named James funneled a bottle of whisky...only to be close to death 10 seconds later. Luckily 5 of us or so sobered up enough to carry him out of the bar and away from the river--when, for fear of him dying, I (and Nick) stuck my fingers down his throat to get him to puke. It was scary.
Champa Lao, our guest house, serves the best food in Asia. Sit (Paul) and company took good care of us and our hangovers.
Should we hoof it through southern China or head back to Bangkok and the beach for a couple of days before 'dominating' HK? The beach won, so after barely making it through the border (this time Brock did the honors) we boarded an overnight train that was fueled 80% by Brock's enthusiasm. Not a renewable resource. But 'the Grind' at Vang Vieng had worn me down too far, so it was a fever and the hypochondria that accompanied which kept us in Bangkok for a couple days too long. Revised plans, and Ko Samet was our destination. Anna Kournikova on the bus served to foreshadow the Russian Mafia's stronghold over the island. The beeratorium ended and good times were had. I beat Brock in several races and competitions.
Le Club led to the airport and Brock and I were whisked to Hong Kong by Kenya Airways. I didn't know they flew that route either. We were quickly put in our place, or dominated, by Hong Kong. Chungking Palace we found is a misleading name. From this ghetto we based our night shopping and walking expeditions. Brock managed to get sick just before leaving, mainly as a form of one-upmanship to me, but also to make sure that he left Asia with a bad taste in his mouth. Literally. It was great to see him, though, and so very cool that he just up and came to Asia for a visit--not knowing what to expect.
Post Brock Stage 4 of the trip will start with another reuniting of friends when my friend Kira, from Brazil, arrives in HK tomorrow. On Friday I will pick up my $150 Chinese Visa (it's reciprocally charged...thanks US policy) which I am not fretting about, Brock, and on Saturday I will board the train for a 24 1/2 hour journey to Beijing. Yes, I could have bought a perfectly reasonably priced plane ticket, but the romantic, Theroux Orient Express vision of passing through China while cavorting with her people was too strong to pass up. And so I'll hopefully arrive on the afternoon of the 24th in Beijing, where I'll meet up with the talented Manuela, a friend I've met on these travels, and who has been so generous as to offer me her apartment for my stay in Beijing. The Great Wall and the Forbidden City are in my sights for my time there. Then, after only a brief stint I fly to Shanghai where I'll meet up with a friend from Vanderbilt. After that it's to Hangzhou to meet up with Julia, then back to Shanghai for one last blow out weekend before I'm headed home! Woohooo! What an all-star end to the trip!
Brock should be safely home now but I'm not sure when he'll get around to exquisitely crafting his guest blogger entry. I'll post it when he does....
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Viet-f-ing-NAM
Feb. 1
Yesterday, I was fuious and Vietnam was the cause.
I should back up a bit.
I was given seat 33 on the bus from Vientiane to Savannaket. I asked if this was by the window--with flawless english the ticket booth attendant assured me it was. I got on the bus and seat 33, an aisle seat, was waiting for me. Because it was a 'VIP' bus...there was a blanket (or at least that was the only difference I could tell between non-VIP buses), but mine was soaking wet. I smelled it, not urine, so although confused I was fine with the situation. Then, as the bus jolted forward a steady stream of water poured out of the ceiling and onto my head. That explains it! Luckily it was all drained onto me within the first ten minutes and I could come out from my wet blanket tent for the rest of the trip.
Then, at one of the stops a little 20 year old guy with a glass eye said hello and stood next to my seat, waiting to see if I would participate in this conversation. I thought about using the normal line "Soy de Espana...no hablo ingles!" but I had sympathy for his eagerness to speak English..even if it was at 2am...so I answered his standard line of questioning and stared at the ground until he went away. It was only later that I realized that he was the one in the back of the bus enthusiastically singing thai pop songs at 4am...keeping me awake. I wanted to strangle him. (he would not be the first)
We pulled into the Savannaket bus station just after 4. So I made like a hobo and found a bench to sleep on until my 6:30 bus. Unfortunately, glass eyed pop singer was hanging around the bus station and belting out 'Killing Me Softly' for me, his English speaking audience. The shirt over my face and prone position did nothing to convince him that I was in fact not at all interested in his rendition of the song nor to dissuade him from sitting right next to me while singing it. Him, combined with the water truck spraying down the dust in the station kept me pretty alert for the next two hours.
Savannaket is, maybe, one notch above ghost town. So at 6am I was surprised to see (and join) 10 men in an otherwise empty bus station fighting to get access to the ticket window. I was confused, as were the other Westerners there except one, an Australian named Julie who is living in Laos and is familiar with the routine. She broke to the front of the line and bought us all tickets. Then I realized...our steed was really a fedex/budweiser/livestock truck that once was a bus. The center section of seats had been removed so that that part of the bus and the roof could hold crates of beer (which I would eventually help to deliver), the aisle was stacked half way to the ceiling with burlap sacks of who knows what and the floor in front of the seats was stuffed with boxes. Not much roof left for people. So it was like this that we started our journey, basically one on top of the other towards to border (and of course stopping intermittently for deliveries).
Entering Vietnam you find it at such a contrast to Laos that it feels like you are entering some sort of netherworld. Hell would be too aggressive, because I think that at one time it actually was like entering hell for thousands of Americans who came here. So hyperbole, maybe, but it is such a striking difference that you can really feel it. Maybe purgatory is more appropriate. Somewhere in Dante's grand scheme, it fits anyway. On top of it all was Tet, or Chinese New Year, which I had heard effectively shuts down the country. Fantastic.
Sunny skies give way to ominous clouds, and smiling faces are replaces by 'surly and unkind.' The Slovenian couple (on the same bus) and Julie made it past the scrutinizing eyes of the border idiots, but they didn't understand my passport with it's non-matching pages and long-haired photo that I guess looks very little like me. But Slovenia! They should have been hassled!
Eventually I was allowed to enter, but was still unprepared to be back in Vietnam. I was caught off guard immediately by their scheming pushiness---13 days in Laos and I had willingly and completely forgotten about Vietnam. The 4 of us with a Japanese guy were hustled into a van to be taken to Hue. Unfortunately I knew how much it should cost, so when the bargaining came down from $18/person to $7 for the 4 hour journey I was still unsatisfied. It should be no more than $5! (see Katherine, I am going crazy--somewhere along the way I forgot the price of sanity) So just like that I left my new travel companions that I was quite fond of, and hoofed it over to the bus station. This is when the real fight began! Delirious from a lack of sleep, I was suddenly invigorated for a fight--and there were plenty to be had.
'20,000 dong' I would yell, last offer! That's when the personification of anger, middle aged woman would come up to me and stare with a look that was pure hatred--only moments away from spitting in my face. And so I stared back, but I think with a little more of a 'I hate you too, but don't understand where your anger could possibly be coming from?' look. I went through less intense negotiations with a couple other vans, but they were empty so I knew it'd be a while before they left. Then, as they evil woman and her husband presumably (mercy be upon his soul) driving had filled up (I thought) and were about to leave I broke a rule of mine (never do business/trust someone with whom you've just minutes before been fighting) and hopped in the van.
My backpack was ripped off of my back and I was pushed into the back of the van. On the way in I felt a seemingly flirtatious pat on the butt and I thought--OK, so we're friends again and this is how it's gonna be. Rowdy. But I was wrong. This woman actually was evil, yelling at every person she packed involuntarily into the van. At one point I counted 21 people in the minivan and I doubt I could see everyone. Then, someone called her on the phone and she fought with them! Where was I!? At one point early on in the journey the woman's friend/sidekick/Dick Cheney type character told me that she would charge me as one person and my backpack as another. On top of all of the harassment and all of the butts in my face I was having seriously full bladder issues (AT what should I have done?) and I almost went for the Bangkok cab from the airport sans plastic bag option.
They dropped me off in Dong Ha, where I would very skeptically get in another van, that although charged too much, did not overcrowd as did the other and was a relatively peaceful experience. Strangely, one of the bus ladies (as I call them) was typically sour faced but then came to sit by me and fell asleep snuggled against my side. What a strange day.
The anger turned to bliss on that second bus ride because for the past month I had been perplexed as to what I should do with our itinerary once Brock comes. We had planned to hang out on the beach, play cards and relax. This isn't possible in Vietnam considering that it is rainy and cold this time of year. And my newfound desire to leave the country ASAP led me to the answer--we would return to Laos and skip the northern half of Vietnam. This would require buying another Laotian visa, but to return to a place like Vang Vieng...it was well worth it.
I arrived into Hue to a cold, overcast, but surprisingly rain-free early evening. I marched over the bridge and found the guest house that I had planned to stay in. At this stage my mood could be described as manic and I was happy to see that the women working at the guest house were similarly upbeat.
The next morning I decided that I would walk around Hue for a bit before catching the afternoon bus to Da Nang to collect Brock. As I was walking the bridge over the Perfume River at 8:30am a motorbike stopped next to me and a man and his wife said hello. I was still in a great mood from figuring out our plans and that I would soon be able to leave this place so I said hello back and kept walking. I thought that maybe their motorbike had stalled, but they soon pulled up again saying hello and asking me where I was from. I told them and they immediately asked me if I would like to come to their house. I said I didn't have much time, but they persisted, saying we could just have a drink. The wife was cute and what harm could there be in meeting a Vietnamese family? So I agreed, we left the wife at the market and headed back to the house--all the way I'm laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. We get back and I find that although his English is not very good, he is an English teacher and wanted a chance to practice and apparently to take in a stranger to celebrate Tet. The family immediately offered to have me stay at their house--we went for a ride around the citadel (Hue is a historically preserved moated city) and by 10am were back with the family in the local bar putting back rounds of beer. Buzzed, I was taken back to my guest house at 11:30 where I started writing this blog entry (almost 2 weeks ago). The bus came soon after and it was off to see Brock for the first time in 4 years!
By telling the bus driver that I had a plane to catch at 5 (not far from the truth) I was able to get us out of the regular restaurant stop and made it to the airport in time to catch Brock's flight. A quick hello and we jumped into a cab.
Meeting again after 4 years, we were coming from very different places. I was convinced to not be ripped off by any more Vietnamese people and Brock was just happy to be on vacation. It wasn't long before our taxi driver refused to drop us off at the place that we had requested (he had another hotel in mind) and I was fully engrossed in a fight with him--at one stage getting Brock and I out of the cab and walking away from him without paying. Welcome to Vietnam! I'm sure Brock was confused (where was the formerly docile American that I once knew?), and I didn't blame him. It would only take a couple of days for him to come around, taking a similar dislike to Vietnam and it would only be a couple more days after that that we would be blissfully headed to Laos.
Yesterday, I was fuious and Vietnam was the cause.
I should back up a bit.
I was given seat 33 on the bus from Vientiane to Savannaket. I asked if this was by the window--with flawless english the ticket booth attendant assured me it was. I got on the bus and seat 33, an aisle seat, was waiting for me. Because it was a 'VIP' bus...there was a blanket (or at least that was the only difference I could tell between non-VIP buses), but mine was soaking wet. I smelled it, not urine, so although confused I was fine with the situation. Then, as the bus jolted forward a steady stream of water poured out of the ceiling and onto my head. That explains it! Luckily it was all drained onto me within the first ten minutes and I could come out from my wet blanket tent for the rest of the trip.
Then, at one of the stops a little 20 year old guy with a glass eye said hello and stood next to my seat, waiting to see if I would participate in this conversation. I thought about using the normal line "Soy de Espana...no hablo ingles!" but I had sympathy for his eagerness to speak English..even if it was at 2am...so I answered his standard line of questioning and stared at the ground until he went away. It was only later that I realized that he was the one in the back of the bus enthusiastically singing thai pop songs at 4am...keeping me awake. I wanted to strangle him. (he would not be the first)
We pulled into the Savannaket bus station just after 4. So I made like a hobo and found a bench to sleep on until my 6:30 bus. Unfortunately, glass eyed pop singer was hanging around the bus station and belting out 'Killing Me Softly' for me, his English speaking audience. The shirt over my face and prone position did nothing to convince him that I was in fact not at all interested in his rendition of the song nor to dissuade him from sitting right next to me while singing it. Him, combined with the water truck spraying down the dust in the station kept me pretty alert for the next two hours.
Savannaket is, maybe, one notch above ghost town. So at 6am I was surprised to see (and join) 10 men in an otherwise empty bus station fighting to get access to the ticket window. I was confused, as were the other Westerners there except one, an Australian named Julie who is living in Laos and is familiar with the routine. She broke to the front of the line and bought us all tickets. Then I realized...our steed was really a fedex/budweiser/livestock truck that once was a bus. The center section of seats had been removed so that that part of the bus and the roof could hold crates of beer (which I would eventually help to deliver), the aisle was stacked half way to the ceiling with burlap sacks of who knows what and the floor in front of the seats was stuffed with boxes. Not much roof left for people. So it was like this that we started our journey, basically one on top of the other towards to border (and of course stopping intermittently for deliveries).
Entering Vietnam you find it at such a contrast to Laos that it feels like you are entering some sort of netherworld. Hell would be too aggressive, because I think that at one time it actually was like entering hell for thousands of Americans who came here. So hyperbole, maybe, but it is such a striking difference that you can really feel it. Maybe purgatory is more appropriate. Somewhere in Dante's grand scheme, it fits anyway. On top of it all was Tet, or Chinese New Year, which I had heard effectively shuts down the country. Fantastic.
Sunny skies give way to ominous clouds, and smiling faces are replaces by 'surly and unkind.' The Slovenian couple (on the same bus) and Julie made it past the scrutinizing eyes of the border idiots, but they didn't understand my passport with it's non-matching pages and long-haired photo that I guess looks very little like me. But Slovenia! They should have been hassled!
Eventually I was allowed to enter, but was still unprepared to be back in Vietnam. I was caught off guard immediately by their scheming pushiness---13 days in Laos and I had willingly and completely forgotten about Vietnam. The 4 of us with a Japanese guy were hustled into a van to be taken to Hue. Unfortunately I knew how much it should cost, so when the bargaining came down from $18/person to $7 for the 4 hour journey I was still unsatisfied. It should be no more than $5! (see Katherine, I am going crazy--somewhere along the way I forgot the price of sanity) So just like that I left my new travel companions that I was quite fond of, and hoofed it over to the bus station. This is when the real fight began! Delirious from a lack of sleep, I was suddenly invigorated for a fight--and there were plenty to be had.
'20,000 dong' I would yell, last offer! That's when the personification of anger, middle aged woman would come up to me and stare with a look that was pure hatred--only moments away from spitting in my face. And so I stared back, but I think with a little more of a 'I hate you too, but don't understand where your anger could possibly be coming from?' look. I went through less intense negotiations with a couple other vans, but they were empty so I knew it'd be a while before they left. Then, as they evil woman and her husband presumably (mercy be upon his soul) driving had filled up (I thought) and were about to leave I broke a rule of mine (never do business/trust someone with whom you've just minutes before been fighting) and hopped in the van.
My backpack was ripped off of my back and I was pushed into the back of the van. On the way in I felt a seemingly flirtatious pat on the butt and I thought--OK, so we're friends again and this is how it's gonna be. Rowdy. But I was wrong. This woman actually was evil, yelling at every person she packed involuntarily into the van. At one point I counted 21 people in the minivan and I doubt I could see everyone. Then, someone called her on the phone and she fought with them! Where was I!? At one point early on in the journey the woman's friend/sidekick/Dick Cheney type character told me that she would charge me as one person and my backpack as another. On top of all of the harassment and all of the butts in my face I was having seriously full bladder issues (AT what should I have done?) and I almost went for the Bangkok cab from the airport sans plastic bag option.
They dropped me off in Dong Ha, where I would very skeptically get in another van, that although charged too much, did not overcrowd as did the other and was a relatively peaceful experience. Strangely, one of the bus ladies (as I call them) was typically sour faced but then came to sit by me and fell asleep snuggled against my side. What a strange day.
The anger turned to bliss on that second bus ride because for the past month I had been perplexed as to what I should do with our itinerary once Brock comes. We had planned to hang out on the beach, play cards and relax. This isn't possible in Vietnam considering that it is rainy and cold this time of year. And my newfound desire to leave the country ASAP led me to the answer--we would return to Laos and skip the northern half of Vietnam. This would require buying another Laotian visa, but to return to a place like Vang Vieng...it was well worth it.
I arrived into Hue to a cold, overcast, but surprisingly rain-free early evening. I marched over the bridge and found the guest house that I had planned to stay in. At this stage my mood could be described as manic and I was happy to see that the women working at the guest house were similarly upbeat.
The next morning I decided that I would walk around Hue for a bit before catching the afternoon bus to Da Nang to collect Brock. As I was walking the bridge over the Perfume River at 8:30am a motorbike stopped next to me and a man and his wife said hello. I was still in a great mood from figuring out our plans and that I would soon be able to leave this place so I said hello back and kept walking. I thought that maybe their motorbike had stalled, but they soon pulled up again saying hello and asking me where I was from. I told them and they immediately asked me if I would like to come to their house. I said I didn't have much time, but they persisted, saying we could just have a drink. The wife was cute and what harm could there be in meeting a Vietnamese family? So I agreed, we left the wife at the market and headed back to the house--all the way I'm laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. We get back and I find that although his English is not very good, he is an English teacher and wanted a chance to practice and apparently to take in a stranger to celebrate Tet. The family immediately offered to have me stay at their house--we went for a ride around the citadel (Hue is a historically preserved moated city) and by 10am were back with the family in the local bar putting back rounds of beer. Buzzed, I was taken back to my guest house at 11:30 where I started writing this blog entry (almost 2 weeks ago). The bus came soon after and it was off to see Brock for the first time in 4 years!
By telling the bus driver that I had a plane to catch at 5 (not far from the truth) I was able to get us out of the regular restaurant stop and made it to the airport in time to catch Brock's flight. A quick hello and we jumped into a cab.
Meeting again after 4 years, we were coming from very different places. I was convinced to not be ripped off by any more Vietnamese people and Brock was just happy to be on vacation. It wasn't long before our taxi driver refused to drop us off at the place that we had requested (he had another hotel in mind) and I was fully engrossed in a fight with him--at one stage getting Brock and I out of the cab and walking away from him without paying. Welcome to Vietnam! I'm sure Brock was confused (where was the formerly docile American that I once knew?), and I didn't blame him. It would only take a couple of days for him to come around, taking a similar dislike to Vietnam and it would only be a couple more days after that that we would be blissfully headed to Laos.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
13 days in Laos (written late January)
Really for the first time on this trip, I'm inspired to write about where I've been.
Laos has been fantastic. Of course there wasn't enough time, but seeing as this is a prospecting trip--I've formed a good plan for what I'll do when I come back.
From Vientiane I headed north on the overnight bus to Luang Prabang. Friendly turned to over-friendly "inadvertent" touching by the guy sitting next to me on the bus. This made for an awkward 10 hours and didn't allow for much sleep--so when we finally arrived to Luang Prabang I was plenty relieved.
We were there before the the guest houses were open so I waited outside of my prospective hotel with a couple of tuk-tuk drivers and we watched the sun rise as an endless line of saffron-robed monks went on their daily 6am procession to gather rice from the townspeople.
Luang Prabang is a very beautiful town but it was a little too gentrified for my taste (being a UNESCO World Heritage Site..ya know), so the next morning I met our captain down at the dock and at 9am we shoved off for Nong Kiaw. I had read that this boat journey was especially beautiful and I was not disappointed. We started up the Mekong, but after 15 miles we took a right onto the Nam Ou River. The brown water gave way to green and limestone cliffs starting climbing out of the side of the river. Where the banks of the river were settled, there'd be men fishing by the river with nets, boys with snorkel masks and spear guns and smaller children naked and waving to us, yelling SA-BA-DEE (HI!) at the tops of their lungs. There were also a fair number of water buffalo, up to their ears in water and in no hurry to get out of the way of an oncoming boat.
Our vessel was a 35-40ft long boat (4 ft across) that had the captain at the front, the 15 passengers crammed into the front half, the horrible toilet and engine in the middle and no cargo in the back. I don't claim to understand how it worked, but somehow this boat was able to navigate a river with serious rapids while only drawing a foot and a half of water. Only once did a few of us have to spill out the sides and give it a push. I was the last person to board our boat and because we were over capacity I had what I think was the good luck to be able to lounge in the back on the packs instead of having a seat.
Nong Kiaw is the definition of a sleepy town--a couple guest houses, a few restaurants, fishermen and stunning riverside sunsets pretty much define the place. I think I went to bed the first night at 7:30--not much to do after dark. The second day I met up with the couple, Claire and John, staying in the bungalow next to mine (who had also been on the boat with me) and proposed that they come to try the traditional Lao fishing with me. They were happy to give it a shot, so we each paid $5 and were introduced to our guides for the day. 12 and 14, our guides introduced themselves one at a time. The first said that his name was Pis. Odd, I thought, looking to the others to see if they had picked up on the unusual name. Then the other little boy said that his name was Poo. I couldn't help but laugh quietly, and the British couple were enjoying it as well--we thought that the little guys were taking the 'piss'--but those were their names. For fear of laughing uncontrollably, however, we would have to call them by 'hey' and 'you' for the rest of the day.
When we thought 'traditional Lao fishing' there were visions of us going out in a long-tail canoe on the big river with spear guns and nets, searching for a big catch (which, as part of our package, we were supposed to eat upon our return). Instead, we walked to a little creek much further away and spent a couple of hours laboriously throwing our nets to catch minnows. We caught about 6, the biggest 2 inches long. So after the stop to tour the cave that the town hid out in while the Americans were bombing, we got back to the town and politely declined our minnow feast.
That night after the sunset we headed to 'Le Cinema,' a house with 3 rooms that you can rent to watch one of the movie house's 700 DVDs. The next day Claire and John took off, but I decided to stay for one more night in the peaceful place that gave me the feeling that I was at Maranon. Another night of going to bed at 7:30 was one too many, so the next morning I made my way back to Luang Prabang (by bus) to try to catch the noon bus to Vang Vieng.
The bus actually left on time, so I missed it by 8 minutes. So it was the 3 o'clock bus out of town that would carry me up into the rugged Laotian mountains--a gorgeous bus ride through picturesque valleys and precariously placed (on the side of the road, usually on curves that trucks and buses take way too fast) villages. Ben, from Ireland, the two Swedish girls and I would end up walking around town for about an hour before we found a place that had put mattresses down on a floor and would let us stay there.
Bed or no bed, it didn't matter because Vang Vieng was going to be the most fun place that I had visited. I met up with Devin and Ryno from Vietnam and the next morning we set off for the tubing for which the place is famous. Tubing, rope swings, being out on the river on a sunny day is the kind of thing that I absolutely love--and it wasn't long before I was nicknamed the Prince of the River for my gung ho attitude.
It isn't 100m into the trip that you are brought into your first riverside bar. We were greeted with free shots of Lao Lao, a rice whiskey that should more appropriately just be called gasoline. The buckets of cocktails are soon to follow, then it's Beer Lao and we're off to the next set of bars. It keeps going like this all the way down the river--turning from fun to probably just dangerous. Unfortunately you don't make it all the way down the river because there is one bar with the best and biggest rope swing, great music, volleyball and the most people...which is where everyone ends up staying. It was here that I met back up with the Swedish sisters that I'd crossed the border with and that I would maintain my status as Prince of the River with back flips off of the rope swing, platform...or anywhere else that offered a relatively soft landing.
Dave and I were supposed to go rock climbing and I did get out one day for a good bike ride to a blue lagoon and big cave--but it was the river that dominated the agenda. Devin and Ryno were, as always, a ton of fun to hang out with and they did me the favor of introducing me to Champa Lao, they're hotel, which has the most beautiful views over the valley and serves the best food that I've had in Asia. I delayed my departure until the very last minute and got one more good day of sun out of it. But Brock was flying into Ho Chi Min, then Da Nang and I would need to spend just about every minute of the next 48 hours to make it to meet him. Luckily my second Vietnam visa had come back without issue and I could be on my way--saying goodbye to my favorite country of the trip.
Laos has been fantastic. Of course there wasn't enough time, but seeing as this is a prospecting trip--I've formed a good plan for what I'll do when I come back.
From Vientiane I headed north on the overnight bus to Luang Prabang. Friendly turned to over-friendly "inadvertent" touching by the guy sitting next to me on the bus. This made for an awkward 10 hours and didn't allow for much sleep--so when we finally arrived to Luang Prabang I was plenty relieved.
We were there before the the guest houses were open so I waited outside of my prospective hotel with a couple of tuk-tuk drivers and we watched the sun rise as an endless line of saffron-robed monks went on their daily 6am procession to gather rice from the townspeople.
Luang Prabang is a very beautiful town but it was a little too gentrified for my taste (being a UNESCO World Heritage Site..ya know), so the next morning I met our captain down at the dock and at 9am we shoved off for Nong Kiaw. I had read that this boat journey was especially beautiful and I was not disappointed. We started up the Mekong, but after 15 miles we took a right onto the Nam Ou River. The brown water gave way to green and limestone cliffs starting climbing out of the side of the river. Where the banks of the river were settled, there'd be men fishing by the river with nets, boys with snorkel masks and spear guns and smaller children naked and waving to us, yelling SA-BA-DEE (HI!) at the tops of their lungs. There were also a fair number of water buffalo, up to their ears in water and in no hurry to get out of the way of an oncoming boat.
Our vessel was a 35-40ft long boat (4 ft across) that had the captain at the front, the 15 passengers crammed into the front half, the horrible toilet and engine in the middle and no cargo in the back. I don't claim to understand how it worked, but somehow this boat was able to navigate a river with serious rapids while only drawing a foot and a half of water. Only once did a few of us have to spill out the sides and give it a push. I was the last person to board our boat and because we were over capacity I had what I think was the good luck to be able to lounge in the back on the packs instead of having a seat.
Nong Kiaw is the definition of a sleepy town--a couple guest houses, a few restaurants, fishermen and stunning riverside sunsets pretty much define the place. I think I went to bed the first night at 7:30--not much to do after dark. The second day I met up with the couple, Claire and John, staying in the bungalow next to mine (who had also been on the boat with me) and proposed that they come to try the traditional Lao fishing with me. They were happy to give it a shot, so we each paid $5 and were introduced to our guides for the day. 12 and 14, our guides introduced themselves one at a time. The first said that his name was Pis. Odd, I thought, looking to the others to see if they had picked up on the unusual name. Then the other little boy said that his name was Poo. I couldn't help but laugh quietly, and the British couple were enjoying it as well--we thought that the little guys were taking the 'piss'--but those were their names. For fear of laughing uncontrollably, however, we would have to call them by 'hey' and 'you' for the rest of the day.
When we thought 'traditional Lao fishing' there were visions of us going out in a long-tail canoe on the big river with spear guns and nets, searching for a big catch (which, as part of our package, we were supposed to eat upon our return). Instead, we walked to a little creek much further away and spent a couple of hours laboriously throwing our nets to catch minnows. We caught about 6, the biggest 2 inches long. So after the stop to tour the cave that the town hid out in while the Americans were bombing, we got back to the town and politely declined our minnow feast.
That night after the sunset we headed to 'Le Cinema,' a house with 3 rooms that you can rent to watch one of the movie house's 700 DVDs. The next day Claire and John took off, but I decided to stay for one more night in the peaceful place that gave me the feeling that I was at Maranon. Another night of going to bed at 7:30 was one too many, so the next morning I made my way back to Luang Prabang (by bus) to try to catch the noon bus to Vang Vieng.
The bus actually left on time, so I missed it by 8 minutes. So it was the 3 o'clock bus out of town that would carry me up into the rugged Laotian mountains--a gorgeous bus ride through picturesque valleys and precariously placed (on the side of the road, usually on curves that trucks and buses take way too fast) villages. Ben, from Ireland, the two Swedish girls and I would end up walking around town for about an hour before we found a place that had put mattresses down on a floor and would let us stay there.
Bed or no bed, it didn't matter because Vang Vieng was going to be the most fun place that I had visited. I met up with Devin and Ryno from Vietnam and the next morning we set off for the tubing for which the place is famous. Tubing, rope swings, being out on the river on a sunny day is the kind of thing that I absolutely love--and it wasn't long before I was nicknamed the Prince of the River for my gung ho attitude.
It isn't 100m into the trip that you are brought into your first riverside bar. We were greeted with free shots of Lao Lao, a rice whiskey that should more appropriately just be called gasoline. The buckets of cocktails are soon to follow, then it's Beer Lao and we're off to the next set of bars. It keeps going like this all the way down the river--turning from fun to probably just dangerous. Unfortunately you don't make it all the way down the river because there is one bar with the best and biggest rope swing, great music, volleyball and the most people...which is where everyone ends up staying. It was here that I met back up with the Swedish sisters that I'd crossed the border with and that I would maintain my status as Prince of the River with back flips off of the rope swing, platform...or anywhere else that offered a relatively soft landing.
Dave and I were supposed to go rock climbing and I did get out one day for a good bike ride to a blue lagoon and big cave--but it was the river that dominated the agenda. Devin and Ryno were, as always, a ton of fun to hang out with and they did me the favor of introducing me to Champa Lao, they're hotel, which has the most beautiful views over the valley and serves the best food that I've had in Asia. I delayed my departure until the very last minute and got one more good day of sun out of it. But Brock was flying into Ho Chi Min, then Da Nang and I would need to spend just about every minute of the next 48 hours to make it to meet him. Luckily my second Vietnam visa had come back without issue and I could be on my way--saying goodbye to my favorite country of the trip.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Hola Laos
From Nha Trang I got the overnight sleeper bus to Hue. This bus is amazing, with three rows of tiny bunk beds that go all the way back--it`s unlike any bus I`ve ever seen. To my surprise, my bed was right next to two familiar faces--a couple of Swedish sisters that I had met in Ko Pha Ngan the night before the full moon party. It was good to see them again, and since we were going the same way it was nice to have some people to travel with for a bit, too.
I left a rainy Nha Trang only to arrive to a rainier Hue. Trying to figure out how to get to the border required lots of walking around in that rain and by that afternoon, deprived of sleep, wet, and cold I urgently needed a warm shower and some sunshine. By 9 that night I had found a luke-warm shower (thanks to the guy in the restaurant that we thought was trying to scam us), which was fine and the next day Laos would bring me sunshine.
Starting at 6am, we left Dong Ha for Savannaket. 9 hours later we had made it; happy to be out of the rain, Laos was a wonderful change. The girls decided that they would go down south to check out the place where the Mekong splinters into 4000 islands, and the only home of the Irrawady Dolphin, only 100 left of the species. Because I would have to be back in Savannaket in less than 2 weeks, I decided to begin the 20 or so hours north...that I would then have to retrace.
While in Savannaket I met Jookky, a 29 year old Laotian woman who speaks very good English, has lived recently in Holland and who had many interesting ideas about her country and the world--from a perspective that is very unique. We chatted for about 3 hours--really interesting to hear what she thinks about her country, its future, government, etc.
On the bus to Vietniane I sat next to a sweet-looking old man. Since he spoke no English and I no Lao, our only communication was through sharing food with one another. The bus was surprisingly well air-conditioned and even had a TV and a good stereo system. Unfortunately, it only had two DVD/VHS tapes. The first was a compilation of music video that were hilarious. Basically all the same, it was a group of scantily clad 17 year old girls doing a very out of sync choreographed dance with moves picked straight out of Napoleon Dynamite. They formed the background for a small man wearing a tucked in shirt and leather jacket that both are too big for him, jeans and white Reeboks--awkwardly snapping his fingers to the tune he was singing. Production quality circa 1991. The second was a variety game show/comedy act--someone running around on stage with a blue wig, a man dressed as a woman--hilarious.
Vientiane is very quiet for a captal city. But that`s what makes it nice, I suppose. Been here now for 3 days and have had a nice time getting to know it. Tonight I`ll move on to Luang Prabang on the overnight bus. In two nights in Vientiane, I've managed to stay in a dorm that has the warm feel of a prison without the bars and a slightly better hotel with a sign on the wall of the shared bathroom that reads "DO NOT Throw the soap or make dirty in the water tank. Thanks" If I had known, I wouldn't have!
Before I left, though, I had to sort out my second visa for Vietnam. Because guesthouses and travel agents charge a commission, I decided to go to the Vietnamese Embassy and take care of it there. There are few I dislike more than corrupt visa/border people. The bastard was trying to charge me more than if I had paid the commission to have it brought from the guesthouse to get the very same visa. When I pointed this out to him, he told me with an evil face to go back to the guesthouse if it is cheaper there. This would mean that I would either have to wait around Vientiane or travel without my passport. So instead of paying this guy's corrupt fee, I had a copy made and will return in a week or so to pick up my passport. Hopefully I'll get my passport back, considering I already had a fight with the guy who will be in possession of it for the next 3 days.
I left a rainy Nha Trang only to arrive to a rainier Hue. Trying to figure out how to get to the border required lots of walking around in that rain and by that afternoon, deprived of sleep, wet, and cold I urgently needed a warm shower and some sunshine. By 9 that night I had found a luke-warm shower (thanks to the guy in the restaurant that we thought was trying to scam us), which was fine and the next day Laos would bring me sunshine.
Starting at 6am, we left Dong Ha for Savannaket. 9 hours later we had made it; happy to be out of the rain, Laos was a wonderful change. The girls decided that they would go down south to check out the place where the Mekong splinters into 4000 islands, and the only home of the Irrawady Dolphin, only 100 left of the species. Because I would have to be back in Savannaket in less than 2 weeks, I decided to begin the 20 or so hours north...that I would then have to retrace.
While in Savannaket I met Jookky, a 29 year old Laotian woman who speaks very good English, has lived recently in Holland and who had many interesting ideas about her country and the world--from a perspective that is very unique. We chatted for about 3 hours--really interesting to hear what she thinks about her country, its future, government, etc.
On the bus to Vietniane I sat next to a sweet-looking old man. Since he spoke no English and I no Lao, our only communication was through sharing food with one another. The bus was surprisingly well air-conditioned and even had a TV and a good stereo system. Unfortunately, it only had two DVD/VHS tapes. The first was a compilation of music video that were hilarious. Basically all the same, it was a group of scantily clad 17 year old girls doing a very out of sync choreographed dance with moves picked straight out of Napoleon Dynamite. They formed the background for a small man wearing a tucked in shirt and leather jacket that both are too big for him, jeans and white Reeboks--awkwardly snapping his fingers to the tune he was singing. Production quality circa 1991. The second was a variety game show/comedy act--someone running around on stage with a blue wig, a man dressed as a woman--hilarious.
Vientiane is very quiet for a captal city. But that`s what makes it nice, I suppose. Been here now for 3 days and have had a nice time getting to know it. Tonight I`ll move on to Luang Prabang on the overnight bus. In two nights in Vientiane, I've managed to stay in a dorm that has the warm feel of a prison without the bars and a slightly better hotel with a sign on the wall of the shared bathroom that reads "DO NOT Throw the soap or make dirty in the water tank. Thanks" If I had known, I wouldn't have!
Before I left, though, I had to sort out my second visa for Vietnam. Because guesthouses and travel agents charge a commission, I decided to go to the Vietnamese Embassy and take care of it there. There are few I dislike more than corrupt visa/border people. The bastard was trying to charge me more than if I had paid the commission to have it brought from the guesthouse to get the very same visa. When I pointed this out to him, he told me with an evil face to go back to the guesthouse if it is cheaper there. This would mean that I would either have to wait around Vientiane or travel without my passport. So instead of paying this guy's corrupt fee, I had a copy made and will return in a week or so to pick up my passport. Hopefully I'll get my passport back, considering I already had a fight with the guy who will be in possession of it for the next 3 days.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Nha Trang
I ended up buddying up with Ryno and Devin and we left on the same bus to the quiet coastal town of Mui Ne. Once there we rented motorbikes from guys that were standing on the side of the road. We paid them $5 and with no contract, guarantee (say, passport) or even knowledge of where we were staying, they let us take the bikes. So we set off, still wearing our backpacks, to find a cheap guest house. We snagged the last two rooms and both got a good deal at Pin Pon. Then, a Canadian girl named Laura that was on the same bus with us showed up, saying that she was unable to find any rooms for a reasonable price. Even though my first impression of her, from the bus, was that she was a pathological liar--generosity prevailed (or maybe it was my saving $3 a night?) and I said that she could take the other bed in my room.
Taking full advantage of our bikes, it was off we went to explore the countryside around Mui Ne. For the next two days we rode around to different sand dunes and beaches. Also, we met Manuela and Leonora from the States and had a good time cruising around with them. Leonora is good friends with one of my good buddies that I met in Argentina. Good times were most definitely had, but after a couple days Mui Ne didn't have much to offer (except good food, quiet beaches and world class kite surfing) so I hit the road again in an effort to hustle up to Laos.
Dalat was a must see before making the long trek up the coast. On the treacherous roads between Mui Ne and Dalat I met the newly engaged couple, Chris and Elissa. We shared the relief when we made it there safely, to the beautiful mountain town that smelled heavily of the pines that surrounded it. After finding the restaurant with porcupine and anteater on the menu too expensive, we settled for a place with some good western food (Vietnamese food isn't great...compared to Khmer and Thai) and decided that we would climb the Lang Bian mountain together the next day.
And what a perfect day it was. Taking the public bus to Lac Duong, we paid the 50 cents to get in, took the picture next to the fake zebra and started our way up. Chris is an avid birdwatcher, and so whenever a tit, bulbul, warbler, cattle egret, or kite hawk (that's all I remember) would appear, the binocs would be out and the bird positively (sometimes) identified. It was really interesting. And the 360 degree view from the top was spectacular. On our way down we trudged through the same forest fires that we encountered on the way up (weren't sure if they were controlled burn or not?) and high tailed it to a nice restaurant in Dalat where we splurged for a good meal after a big day or walking.
A beautiful bus ride brought me down off of the central highland plateau at sunset and I now find myself in Nha Trang. Once again by the beach. I was trying to catch the night bus for another 15 hours (to Hue) last night when I got into town, but it was already long gone. It was probably for the best because my stomach started to cramp right as I got off the bus and I was resigned to my bed for the rest of the night--luckily I had HBO (Grandma's Boy...?) to keep me company. On the bus from Dalat I met Li Li and her sisters who were coming back to visit family from their home in Vancouver and Tom and his father John, who were also refugees....Tom back for the first time and his father back to retire here. Tom and I talked the whole way from Dalat--agreeing on the sad state of our country (education, health care, defense...even agriculture...how is it that nothing is right!), he gave me an impromptu Vietnamese lesson and recommended a movie, Journey From the Fall, which I will now recommend to you. He said it is the only movie about the war from a refugee's perspective. I'm sure it's really interesting and look forward to seeing it once I'm back. He also told me his story--how they were able to get on a flight the day before Saigon fell and that his father, an algebra teacher at a Catholic school, was only able to escape fighting in Dalat's last stand against the VC when he was smuggled out in the back of a truck, under the smocks of the nun's with whom he worked.
The stomach is back to normal and tonight I'll take the bus to Hue--from where I'll continue the long journey to cross over into Laos. I'm still deciding how much of this I will backtrack when Brock comes...it'll either be back to Nha Trang or we'll just meet up in Danang and save ourselves an overnight bus ride.
Oh--one thing about Nha Trang...I've seen more guys riding on motorcycles with full size refrigerators on the back (presumably taking them home from the store) than in any other place I've been so far. Pretty impressive
Better get out of here. I've got a 7 year old sucking down Marlboros to my left and that "I swear, by the moon and the stars in the sky" R&B song blaring to my right.
Taking full advantage of our bikes, it was off we went to explore the countryside around Mui Ne. For the next two days we rode around to different sand dunes and beaches. Also, we met Manuela and Leonora from the States and had a good time cruising around with them. Leonora is good friends with one of my good buddies that I met in Argentina. Good times were most definitely had, but after a couple days Mui Ne didn't have much to offer (except good food, quiet beaches and world class kite surfing) so I hit the road again in an effort to hustle up to Laos.
Dalat was a must see before making the long trek up the coast. On the treacherous roads between Mui Ne and Dalat I met the newly engaged couple, Chris and Elissa. We shared the relief when we made it there safely, to the beautiful mountain town that smelled heavily of the pines that surrounded it. After finding the restaurant with porcupine and anteater on the menu too expensive, we settled for a place with some good western food (Vietnamese food isn't great...compared to Khmer and Thai) and decided that we would climb the Lang Bian mountain together the next day.
And what a perfect day it was. Taking the public bus to Lac Duong, we paid the 50 cents to get in, took the picture next to the fake zebra and started our way up. Chris is an avid birdwatcher, and so whenever a tit, bulbul, warbler, cattle egret, or kite hawk (that's all I remember) would appear, the binocs would be out and the bird positively (sometimes) identified. It was really interesting. And the 360 degree view from the top was spectacular. On our way down we trudged through the same forest fires that we encountered on the way up (weren't sure if they were controlled burn or not?) and high tailed it to a nice restaurant in Dalat where we splurged for a good meal after a big day or walking.
A beautiful bus ride brought me down off of the central highland plateau at sunset and I now find myself in Nha Trang. Once again by the beach. I was trying to catch the night bus for another 15 hours (to Hue) last night when I got into town, but it was already long gone. It was probably for the best because my stomach started to cramp right as I got off the bus and I was resigned to my bed for the rest of the night--luckily I had HBO (Grandma's Boy...?) to keep me company. On the bus from Dalat I met Li Li and her sisters who were coming back to visit family from their home in Vancouver and Tom and his father John, who were also refugees....Tom back for the first time and his father back to retire here. Tom and I talked the whole way from Dalat--agreeing on the sad state of our country (education, health care, defense...even agriculture...how is it that nothing is right!), he gave me an impromptu Vietnamese lesson and recommended a movie, Journey From the Fall, which I will now recommend to you. He said it is the only movie about the war from a refugee's perspective. I'm sure it's really interesting and look forward to seeing it once I'm back. He also told me his story--how they were able to get on a flight the day before Saigon fell and that his father, an algebra teacher at a Catholic school, was only able to escape fighting in Dalat's last stand against the VC when he was smuggled out in the back of a truck, under the smocks of the nun's with whom he worked.
The stomach is back to normal and tonight I'll take the bus to Hue--from where I'll continue the long journey to cross over into Laos. I'm still deciding how much of this I will backtrack when Brock comes...it'll either be back to Nha Trang or we'll just meet up in Danang and save ourselves an overnight bus ride.
Oh--one thing about Nha Trang...I've seen more guys riding on motorcycles with full size refrigerators on the back (presumably taking them home from the store) than in any other place I've been so far. Pretty impressive
Better get out of here. I've got a 7 year old sucking down Marlboros to my left and that "I swear, by the moon and the stars in the sky" R&B song blaring to my right.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Yesterday and Today (1/8/08)
Dong are now the centerpiece of my world. I'm forced the think about them all the time, whether it's people asking me for them on the street or constantly doing the math to figure out how many dong I need. The Vietnamese currency, like many of their words (see Phuc) can't help but bring a smile to your face.
But smiling was not what I was doing earlier today, as the bus crossed the Mekhong on a ferry. No, instead I was chiding myself as new information has meant a change in travel plans and will force me to backtrack. I'm not sure why, but it goes against something very deeply ingrained in me to backtrack. To waste the time and money to be places I've already been is especially painful when traveling and having to buy another 1 month visa on top of that...unacceptable. But I'm coming to grips with it now and realize that this will likely be the first of two trips to Saigon (HoChiMC). In 23 days I will likely arrive here again to begin Phase III of the trip, with Brock-O.
So reluctantly I arrived in Vietnam today. It was an quick trip with an effortless border crossing. Arriving in Saigon felt very different from anywhere I've been thus far. The buildings are different, the feel of the city unique. The fast pace of development can almost be felt when entering the city. I was traveling today with an american couple, Ryno and Devin, that are my age and traveling around the world for however long it takes them. He had been to Saigon 6 years earlier and when we went to the old market that was one of his favorite spots in the city--it had become an American style shopping mall...only the tiling at the entrance and the old tiled stairs remaining. A Chanel booth, next to Louis Vitton replacing the poultry stall where birds were slaughtered after you paid for them.
I plan to only be in HCMC for a couple of days as I now need to high tail it up to Laos, the place that I expect to like the most...and to have enough time there before flying back to meet up with Brock and go up the Vietnamese coast.
My last day in Phnom Penh was pretty amazing. I was taking it easy, renting a bike to go to the Central Market and to do a couple of errands. On the way back from the market however I was riding and thought I recognized the guy riding past me on his motorcycle in the opposite direction. 2 seconds later I hear a crash and he and his passenger have collided with a blue car that looks like an old Nissan Sentra in the intersection through which I have just passed. It was a really bad accident--I rushed back to see if I could help but even before I could get to the accident there was a swarm of people around him, someone presumably trying to help. I didn't want to get in the crowd of Cambodians so I hung back and watched, hoping that someone would pull him out of the mass of people and take him to a hospital. 5 minutes passed or maybe more (it felt like a really long time) and finally an ambulance came. Not sure if he made it, but it was a crazy thing to have seen. And interesting how the Cambodian people in the area were reacting (some laughing and joking, others honking their horns to get the traffic out of the way, others visibly shocked). I rode back to the hotel cautiously and pretty stunned from what I had just seen.
I made it back to the lake for sunset and was recounting my story to Lorri, another Canadian that I had been hanging out with when I read in the Cambodian Daily (I was looking for information about the tribunal for Bill C.) that there were 40,000 cases of Dengue Fever in 2007. 1 in 100 people affected died, a significant improvement from the 1 in 34 fatality rate from 2006. Once again I slathered on some extra deet and was once again impressed with how many ways one can meet their end in Cambodia.
One last amok from my favorite place and one to go for breakfast and I was all set to head off the next day.
But smiling was not what I was doing earlier today, as the bus crossed the Mekhong on a ferry. No, instead I was chiding myself as new information has meant a change in travel plans and will force me to backtrack. I'm not sure why, but it goes against something very deeply ingrained in me to backtrack. To waste the time and money to be places I've already been is especially painful when traveling and having to buy another 1 month visa on top of that...unacceptable. But I'm coming to grips with it now and realize that this will likely be the first of two trips to Saigon (HoChiMC). In 23 days I will likely arrive here again to begin Phase III of the trip, with Brock-O.
So reluctantly I arrived in Vietnam today. It was an quick trip with an effortless border crossing. Arriving in Saigon felt very different from anywhere I've been thus far. The buildings are different, the feel of the city unique. The fast pace of development can almost be felt when entering the city. I was traveling today with an american couple, Ryno and Devin, that are my age and traveling around the world for however long it takes them. He had been to Saigon 6 years earlier and when we went to the old market that was one of his favorite spots in the city--it had become an American style shopping mall...only the tiling at the entrance and the old tiled stairs remaining. A Chanel booth, next to Louis Vitton replacing the poultry stall where birds were slaughtered after you paid for them.
I plan to only be in HCMC for a couple of days as I now need to high tail it up to Laos, the place that I expect to like the most...and to have enough time there before flying back to meet up with Brock and go up the Vietnamese coast.
My last day in Phnom Penh was pretty amazing. I was taking it easy, renting a bike to go to the Central Market and to do a couple of errands. On the way back from the market however I was riding and thought I recognized the guy riding past me on his motorcycle in the opposite direction. 2 seconds later I hear a crash and he and his passenger have collided with a blue car that looks like an old Nissan Sentra in the intersection through which I have just passed. It was a really bad accident--I rushed back to see if I could help but even before I could get to the accident there was a swarm of people around him, someone presumably trying to help. I didn't want to get in the crowd of Cambodians so I hung back and watched, hoping that someone would pull him out of the mass of people and take him to a hospital. 5 minutes passed or maybe more (it felt like a really long time) and finally an ambulance came. Not sure if he made it, but it was a crazy thing to have seen. And interesting how the Cambodian people in the area were reacting (some laughing and joking, others honking their horns to get the traffic out of the way, others visibly shocked). I rode back to the hotel cautiously and pretty stunned from what I had just seen.
I made it back to the lake for sunset and was recounting my story to Lorri, another Canadian that I had been hanging out with when I read in the Cambodian Daily (I was looking for information about the tribunal for Bill C.) that there were 40,000 cases of Dengue Fever in 2007. 1 in 100 people affected died, a significant improvement from the 1 in 34 fatality rate from 2006. Once again I slathered on some extra deet and was once again impressed with how many ways one can meet their end in Cambodia.
One last amok from my favorite place and one to go for breakfast and I was all set to head off the next day.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Playing Catch Up
Disclaimer: this journal has been put together retro-actively, little bits at a time. It is meant to contain vignettes separated by a photo of where I'm staying every night...but due to time constraints and my lack of patience with slow internet connections it is going to be this--the adventures that I feel are worth writing about--no editing (maybe some scensoring). Perhaps I'll put it all together once I'm back in the form that I had originally imagined...but chances are I won't, so I might as well put up what I've got. Enjoy, and feel free to leave comments as it'd be nice to hear from you guys..
Hello Asia! Welcome to my life!
Well it's really more like hello, two weeks ago. I arrived to Bangkok on Dec. 3 and have since then been traveling with my Mom and very much in the moment...or very much out of touch with home. Writing backwards is the least fun, so instead of details I'll just give a couple of blips from the first part of the trip so that my travel journal is all caught up.
Leaving Dulles, we chased the sun around the globe and although it almost got away from us, we caught it again and were able to go 36 hours without having it set. The longest day of my life. An uneventful, albeit long trip brought us over Alaska (didn't see any Northern Lights), the polar ice caps, Northern Russia (where a Korean passenger plane was once shot down) and finally Japan before our first stop in Tokyo's Narita airport. Mom's calistenics and meeting a nice Cambodian couple were the highlights of our trip. After some glitzy shopping, our first authentically Japanese sushi (airport, barely) and a couple of photos we were off again, flying over Taiwan, China, Vietnam and Cambodia before touching down in Bangkok.
As planned, we arrived the night before the King's 80th birthday because of the countrywide celebration that was planned for the event. King Bhumibol is the longest reigning monarch (over 60 years) and is revered here with a uniquely Thai intensity. We were greeted in the airport by a sea of yellow and pink clad Thais. Luckily we had read about this phenomenon and were not surprised by the pastel swarm. Yellow is right for every occasion, but especially Monday as this was the day that the King was born and yellow is associated in buddhism with that day of the week. Pink is for Wednesday, but was also the color of the King's blazer as he was leaving the hospital after being treated for 'insufficient blood flow to the brain.' They see it as representing his good health and the whole country had mobilized for pink in the days after his leaving the hospital. As I read somewhere, it is as if they are willing him to stay alive. For he is seen as having brought prosperity to his country and as the thread that unites Thailand. And people fear that these things will vanish with his passing.
The night before the King's birthday meant that our taxi would sit in more than an hour of traffic before we couldn't find the hotel. At this point Mom was worried about our neighborhood and I was having a medical emergency (too much water on the plane). Mom's quick thinking and my reassurance left us both feeling better for our first night in Thailand.
Weary Travelers in Tokyo
Jet lagged, we wondered around dirty Bangkok. Having a tuk-tuk scam thrown our way and having trekked to far corners of the city, we were ready to take off for Chiang Mai. Leaving behind our hotel's wonderful breakfasts and the Thewet Fish Market as the only real things that stood out as being good in Bangkok, we arrived in Chiang Mai ready to be impressed. The moated city is nice and the conveyed sense of history combined with a cleaner and less congested city put us in the right frame of mind to enjoy Chiang Mai. The lion's share of our time in Chiang Mai was spent shopping. This mostly meant Mom saying "wow, this is so cheap!" to something that was pretty expensive, or "100 baht, that's ridiculous!" to something that cost $3. So I managed the cash and the haggling while Mom kept us on task--or constantly shopping.
No, OK, it wasn't that bad. After the first 3 or 4 days we got out of the city...first for an adventurous motorcycle ride up the mountain to an impressive wat (temple), to tour the grounds of the King's Summer Palace, Bhubing, and to continue over the mountain on some precarious roads towards a hill tribe village. The next day was cool as well...our "one day trekking" which meant that we would go for an elephant ride, a hike to a waterfall and do some bamboo rafting. The elephant was unruly, constantly bringing his trunk back for more bananas and sugar cane which we would buy from the women in the bamboo huts along the way. When our mahout (elephant trainer) got off of his head (where he sat...seemingly prepared to fall and be trampled) and let me sit on his neck...the big bull only became greedier and afer a battle of wills and me continueing to push his trunk back, he finally reached his trunk up into my shirt and pulled me towards his mouth. The mahout quickly stepped in...if not I would have lost a shirt or worse, have been elephant food.
In "the worst place I've ever stayed," Mom can be seen here, in our room spitting her toothpaste into her hand, laughing, after running from the lizards in the bathroom. Chiang Rai--where we had the amazing motorcycle ride at dusk, saw the buddha in the cave, and ate very bad (and slow) lebanese food.
After Chiang Mai we decided we would head to Railay, near Krabi in the south on the Andaman Sea. The Lonely Planet (referred to here after as the Book or simply Bible) recommended Railay as it's favorite beach and the Seattleite that we met in Bangkok (who's husband was hospitalized with Dengue Fever) gave it similarly high marks. They were both right, and our four nights at the Sand Sea Resort were very comfortable. Reading, taking in Sunsets...not a difficult life. Even though I was plagued by a head cold and stomach issues--I didn't have much room for complaing. Railay and the beach next door, Ton Sai, are also the epicenter of the best rock climbing in Thailand and some of the best in the world.
Our bungalow in Railay
From Railay, and hauling Mom's two bags full of Christmas presents, we made it back to Ao Nang and to the Krabi Airport where we waved goodbye and our Thailand travel buddy days were over :(
Last night before Mom heads home
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Just like that and phase II of the trip begins. Phase I, or 'Mom and Asia,' was great. We jet-set around Thailand in better than backpacker fashion. First it was a sea of yellow and pink shirts as we arrived in the airport. The ride to our hotel was slow due to the birthday traffic...which exaserbated the fact that I had passed up a bathroom opportunity in the airport. This led to what could have been a very messy situation, but we got through it and finally arrived to our hotel. Bangkok was our aclimatization point at our serene Phranakorn bed and breakfast (with some very interesting and good introductions to Thai food...for breakfast). After days or walking around aimlessly, inhaling fumes, celebrating the kings 80th birthday and generally saying hello to Thailand we set off for Chiang Mai in the North... (I ran out of steam here...see above for more info)
What a great day! I decided to put off Malaysia for a day as it might work out better for me not to come back to the Krabi area. But before I went I definitely wanted to do some rock climbing on the world class cliffs around Railay. I took a longboat over to the beach one more time and signed up to go in the afternoon. My fingers are still tired and slow to type and I'm sure I'll be sore tomorrow, but it was so much fun! Definitely going to start climbing in the New River Gorge when I'm home. All in all I did 6 separate climbs, the longest of which was 90 feet high. By the last one I could barely make a fist because my forarms were so shot. And the views from the top (climbing up directly off the beach) were gorgeous--the cove off of Railay East...pretty stunning.
Back in Ao Nang after another great sunset and I had my first street Pad Thai. Now that Mom's gone I've gone budget...real Thailand. It was good and I think I'm still disease free!
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Back in Bangkok, but I've been so bad about writing that everytime I do write it's about something that happened a week or more ago.
After another night in Ao Nang I decided not to waste anymore time in this beach town and to instead head back over to the isthmus and give Ton Sai a shot. The morning that I was set to head over, I noticed that a guy sitting next to me in the internet cafe had a shirt that said "Seneca Rocks" on it. Seneca Rocks, WV is pretty close to home and he told me that he lived there for 9 months and came over to Ton Sai from November to February every year to climb and generally take it easy. Not bad. He gave me a recommendation for a place to stay and I saw him later that afternoon as once again we were neighbors (this time, our bungalows). Ton Sai was fantastic, full of world class climbers and really a great group of fun people. Just by some of the cliffs on the beach is a bar that is the best place from which to watch the sunset. It was hear that I met James and Jenn, from Britain (although Jenn a Canadian transplant), who I would run into and hang out with for the next couple of days. As we were having our first of many Thai buckets (or equivalent), we heard a large crash behind us. I assumed that it was something in the kitchen, but everyone kept their attention focused. From 1000 ft up on the overhanging cliff, a rock had fallen onto the tiny table in between two german guys playing checkers! There had a been a large glass ashtray between them which was looked as if it has been vaporized...except for the larger pieces of glass shrapnel that were found a few mintues later in the bleeding forearm of one of the players. But business went on as usual, the mess was swept up and the checkers game resumed just a few feet (yet still under the overhang) of where it had been played before. Wow!
Although it was difficult to pull myself away from Ton Sai...a Christmas Eve Full Moon Party on Ko Pha Ngan (pronounced Ko Pan Yang) was too much to pass up. So the morning of the 23rd I packed up, had one more mango with sticky rice and coconut milk and hit the road. I bought into a package bus-boat non-deal that would get me to the island and ended up with some crazy Canadian girls. The slow ferry finally got us there after an incredible sunset, a 6th round of beers and some R&B on the mini-speakers. On the boat I met Tam and Suzy and we banded together as we were the only people we knew who had no accomodation booked already. We made it alright and although we weren't in the cheapest or the most beautiful spot--it was comfortable and safe. We went over that night to the party beach of Hat Rin and got a little taste of what this thing was going to be. Big. Christmas Eve, I had a nice time exploring the island by motorcycle and found some gorgeous beaches (where I should have stayed). Then it was to the party! Luckily I found Tam and Suzy right away (among thousands of people on the beach) and it was an incredible spectacle. Merry Christmas at midnight, then a nap from 2:30-5 made it possible for me to party til sunrise. Crazy party--better described by the pictures I'll eventually post.
From Ko Pha Ngan it was by boat to Surat Thani, then an overnight train to Bangkok.
Back now and after exploring the Grand Palace this morning (Wats and Palaces aren't for me) I was surprised to get an email from my buddy from Vanderbilt who I was planning to visit in Shanghai but who is in Bangkok now to renew his visa! Fantastic. So we've had a good afternoon by rooftop pool at his hotel and are planning on having a big one tonight.
1/1/08
Thanks for writing you three, it's really nice to have new emails from Seattle and Canada and West Virginia. Fun to have the mental image of what's going on simultaneously in such different places. And a Happy New Year to everyone, as well!
I made it into Cambodia, but not without considerable hassle. Had to put up a pretty strong fight at the border with police and the 'tourist agents.' Everyone wanted a piece of the western pie...it was one of the most difficult borders I've had to cross...probably more difficult than Colombia-Venezuela because at least then I could understand what they were saying!
Just after paying too much for my visa, I met an American couple in their early 30s and two Chinese girls that are probably my age (a very rare sight to see two Chinese girls backpacking like that). We waded through the gauntlet of taxi scams together (having to speak Spanish to one another so the taxi drivers couldn't understand us) and finally the five of us squeezed into a Toyota Camry and made the 3 1/2 hr trip to Siem Reap, where I now find myself.
Apparently the road between the border and Siem Reap is kept in such a terrific state of disrepair (and it is really bad) because the major airline that flies between Bangkok and Siem Reap pays enough in bribes to keep them from paving what otherwise would be a flat, straight road. Sadly and foolishly this keeps the people who live along this stretch of road depressed (and likely ill because of all the dust) and projects a very unwelcoming image to new arrivals. As the sun set on 2007 we were dodging cows, dogs and kids just barely and giant pot holes less successfully.
The scam continued as we arrived to town, being transferred from the taxi to his friends on motorcycles and tuk-tuks who were very forceful and intent on getting paid to take us to a hotel. Finally, it all worked out and we were having a beer on a rooftop overlooking Siem Reap as the clock struck 12 and the fireworks lit the sky.
And that was my New Years.
Taking a rest day today, but tomorrow it'll be up early exploring the ruins of Angkor Wat.
I am keeping a blog of sorts, but haven't yet put it up on the web. It's more of a journal and I kind of like it that way. For one, it doesn't have to be put into an edited, readable version. I've also been so busy moving around that it's hard to take the time to compose something that I'd like others to read.
Happy New Year, I hope you're all doing well.
1/2/08
What a day!
With the 1970's cruiser bicycle as my steed, I headed out this morning at 7am to see the talk of the town--the temples at Angkor.
All in all it was a 10 hour day (with a one hour nap at a particularly peaceful temple) of riding 30 miles between amazing feats of architecture and human ingenuity. My pictures, or probably even better--a google images search of Angkor would probably tell a better story--but it is an amazing place and even bests Machu Picchu in some ways. The enormity of the Khmer empire is what was maybe most amazing. From here, it ruled from present day India to Vietnam. In riding those 30 miles I stopped at 10 or so very unique temple complexes (with several buildings)--very large temples some with motes as wide as a football field. Some of the temples has been restored to resemble what they looked like in their day--others had been overrun by nature with giant trees growing on top of them, their roots a web entangling the structure on the way to the ground.
Probably the best thing about the day was that I was on the bike. The sweet little kids who are made to sell you books and t-shirts smile and wave HELLO when I went by, and riding back to the town in Siem Reap I was the only foreigner (not in a tour bus) in the rush of bicycle, motorbike, car, bus and truck traffic, fellow bikers smiling to me as I passed them.
So it was a great albeit exhausting day--now I'll go have a couple beers, enjoy the HBO that was just today turned on in my room (!) and head out tomorrow for Phnom Penh.
1/4/08
For some reason I only met Canadians in Siem Reap and Angkor...but they were some good ones--had lots of fun.
For my last meal in town, I had a great omelette with the very best bread that I have had so far in Asia. It was a baguette with the perfect thin crust on the outside and a soft, warm inside that was almost like a dense croissant. The french occupation here has left a nice legacy. It was also a nice respite from the fried rice with steak that I had eaten for breakfast, lunch, and dinner the day before! Self-imposed and glorious--I'm not having any trouble adjusting to Cambodian food.
The bus ride from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh was noteworthy. We left at 12:30 and after my last bus experience I have learned to choose which side of the bus to sit on as to avoid the sun beaming in through the windows. Having chosen that seat when buying the ticket, I had put myself next to Annie (surely not how she spells it, but that's what it sounded like), a 22 year old Cambodian who is studying to become an accountant. She loved practicing her english and asking me questions, and I enjoyed her effort to try to teach me some Khmer words and was able to ask her about her surgical mask. So it was like this we travelled down the road, enjoying the ride and doazing in and out of consciousness. The in to consciousness, however, became more and more prevalent as the driver would not lay off of the horn. It was as if he was having a conversations with his fellow motorists, using the horn to denote every syllable of his speech. To keep from strangling him, this is what I imagined he was doing, sometimes trying to figure out what he was saying. There would be phrases such as "Excuse me, here I come" (6 honks--not near anyone), "MOVEEEEE" (one very long honk), "I can't believe you are driving so slowly. You shouldn't be on the road and I plan on making that happen" (28 honks). The latter type conversations were the most prevalent...so obnoxious...as if he was scared to be driving so fast and was willing people to get out of his way.
Another interesting and unexpected part of the bus trip was the culinary adventure that it became. We made two long stops, on the first I ate a steaming ball of wet looking bread filled with meats and onions and other unidentifiable things. That was fun. Then, at the next stop I ate mango dipped in some very harsh salt/sugar/pepper mix and had an egg. What I didn't eat at the second stop, but was surprised to see them being sold--were the large black figures that from further away looked like an '8'a bit smaller than my hand, with several little sticks poking out from it. Maybe a meat lollipop? That sounds good. No, GIANT tarantulas...a mountain of them ready to sell by every vendor. Because I wasn't considering eating them, my concern moved to where they had come from. Imported from somewhere far away I hope, India maybe. Unfortunately, the women selling them didn't look quite so industrious--so I confronted the truth and slept last night with my covers wrapped a little tighter.
Which brings me to Phnom Penh--not what I was expecting at all. The bus came into town among a sea of neon sign, a wedding off to the right, a small carnival with rides to the left. So cool. Then, with a british girl named Emma that I had met on the bus, we went to the guesthouses on the lake. I didn't realize how literally they meant on the lake...when you step from the road into the guesthouse, you are over the lake. There are several of them in this little tourist ghetto, all with rooms over the water and big communal decks complete with pool tables, hammocks, tv's, etc. All on rickety wooden floors held up by rickety wooden posts. Over a lake. Pool table. Really, they are extremely cool with beautiful views over the lake and I'm told to expect a beautiful sunset tonight, as well. All this in Central Phnom Penh! And my room feels like I'm on a boat...lined with linoleum the walls are meant to look wooden on the bottom half, and white on the top half. The boat feel continues as you look out the window and see that you're over water. The same water that you can hear the toilet draining into. No swimming for me, but for $3.50 a night, I'm a happy sailor.
Now off to the US embassy to get more pages put into my passport which is now officially full, then to go get my Vietnamese visa. Tomorrow I'll visit the Killing Fields and a school turned into a place of torture and death. Should be pretty rough.
Oh, and just got an email from a friend of mine in Brazil that she and two of her friends are coming to SE Asia and I'll be seeing them soon! Amazing...love it.
1/5/08
Excited to be back on American soil, if only for a few hours at most, I had a skip in my step as I walked from my guesthouse towards the American Embassy. As I approached the mammoth complex with its ornate, yet unlit Christmas decorations, I was looking forward to the experience of visiting an embassy abroad, something I'd never before needed to do. I arrived at one of the gates and was ushered around to the other side. It was here that a door cracked open, the air conditioning spewing out as the Cambodian man dressed in a blue uniform decorated with a crest with an eagle, almost like the presidential seal, told me that they were open on Fridays only for emergencies. I told him that without more pages in my passport I was unable to get a visa and to keep my travel plans. This, to me, seemed necessary enough to ask that someone take the 5 minutes to make it happen. Not allowing me to come in, they took my passport and tried in vain to call the consulate to see if this could happen. I guess they had left the office early! When he came back I asked if he could call again and if I could come inside the outtermost gate of what was my own country? He feigned a lack of english comprehension to answer such a question with words, and instead just smiled and shook his head as if he were embarrassed. I was embarrassed too. Nor did I get the feeling that, if in a shoot out with Cambodian drug dealers I would be provided cover while I was swallowed by the safety of my American home. Interestingly enough, everything is open here 7 days a week--there really isn't a distinction between weekday and weekend because they don't rest on the sabbath...they work and try to better their lives. Americans, though, already have lives that are good enough it seems--and those working abroad grant themselves 4 day work weeks. And although the embassy is fully staffed 24/7, they can't grant one of these employees power to add pages to someone's passport--a 5 minute task that is essential to those traveling, but that is reserved for the fat cats in the consulate office. Not impressed, America.
1/6/08
Waiting for my visa to come through has been a blessing in disguise. With no rush, I've had a few days to get to know Phnom Penh. I already know that it's a great place to hang out--no shortage of pool games, or rummy or cool people to be had--and the sunset on the lake every night is something you don't find in capital cities (this is going to end, unfortunately, as plans are under way to raze the neighborhoods around the lake, pour concrete and make it another set of city blocks). Yesterday I rented a motorcycle and decided to brave the crazy streets of this city. They are the craziest that I've seen so far. There seem to be no rules, really. People going both ways in both lanes, merging means driving the wrong way in the opposite lane as people stop to let you join the traffic, and crossing a street is like playing high stakes dodgeball. I had an incomplete map that showed me the general direction of the Killing Fields of Choeng Ek. According to my guide it is only 9 miles out of town but I went much further than that and never did find what I was looking for. So with a firm resolve I got up early this morning, asked for better directions and eventually found it. Amazing place. 129 mass graves, 43 of which have yet to be excavated. They built a glass stupa as a monument that houses 8,000 human skulls that they have found, so far. The scale of the tragedy and the recency is striking. As are the little or sometimes big bits of bone that you see poking up from the ground as you're walking around the grounds. Even though they tried to help, it was hard to imagine (maybe by choice) what had really happened there--and I found myself most saddened not by the bones of children who had suffered, but by the children on the other side of the chain link fence that were begging and suffering still--just in a different way.
From there, it was on to Toeng Sol, back in town, a school that had been converted into a torture prison. An amazing museum now--it feels like nothing has really changed since this all happened. Of course they have put up photo exhibits of the prisoners, some accompanied by biographies--and the torture equipment has explanations next to them....but other than that it all looks the same. The photos on the walls of some of the cells showed the room in the very some condition--with the same stains on the tiles of the floor on which I was now standing.
As morbid as the days activities were, it was great to be out amongst the people on the bike. I dressed as closely to a cambodian as my wardrobe would allow, wore a full helmet with reflective face shield and even had a krama (head scarf) underneath--so that when I was riding I was hardly recognizable as a farang (foreigner).
After returning the bike, I tried they're national dish, Amok, which is a meat (traditionally fish, which I had) in a cocunut sauce like a curry, over rice. It was so good! Satisfied, I had a lazy rest of the day--going for a little walk, getting my laundry done and then I returned to the guesthouse for another great sunset. Not a bad day.
Hello Asia! Welcome to my life!
Well it's really more like hello, two weeks ago. I arrived to Bangkok on Dec. 3 and have since then been traveling with my Mom and very much in the moment...or very much out of touch with home. Writing backwards is the least fun, so instead of details I'll just give a couple of blips from the first part of the trip so that my travel journal is all caught up.
Leaving Dulles, we chased the sun around the globe and although it almost got away from us, we caught it again and were able to go 36 hours without having it set. The longest day of my life. An uneventful, albeit long trip brought us over Alaska (didn't see any Northern Lights), the polar ice caps, Northern Russia (where a Korean passenger plane was once shot down) and finally Japan before our first stop in Tokyo's Narita airport. Mom's calistenics and meeting a nice Cambodian couple were the highlights of our trip. After some glitzy shopping, our first authentically Japanese sushi (airport, barely) and a couple of photos we were off again, flying over Taiwan, China, Vietnam and Cambodia before touching down in Bangkok.
As planned, we arrived the night before the King's 80th birthday because of the countrywide celebration that was planned for the event. King Bhumibol is the longest reigning monarch (over 60 years) and is revered here with a uniquely Thai intensity. We were greeted in the airport by a sea of yellow and pink clad Thais. Luckily we had read about this phenomenon and were not surprised by the pastel swarm. Yellow is right for every occasion, but especially Monday as this was the day that the King was born and yellow is associated in buddhism with that day of the week. Pink is for Wednesday, but was also the color of the King's blazer as he was leaving the hospital after being treated for 'insufficient blood flow to the brain.' They see it as representing his good health and the whole country had mobilized for pink in the days after his leaving the hospital. As I read somewhere, it is as if they are willing him to stay alive. For he is seen as having brought prosperity to his country and as the thread that unites Thailand. And people fear that these things will vanish with his passing.
The night before the King's birthday meant that our taxi would sit in more than an hour of traffic before we couldn't find the hotel. At this point Mom was worried about our neighborhood and I was having a medical emergency (too much water on the plane). Mom's quick thinking and my reassurance left us both feeling better for our first night in Thailand.
Weary Travelers in Tokyo
Jet lagged, we wondered around dirty Bangkok. Having a tuk-tuk scam thrown our way and having trekked to far corners of the city, we were ready to take off for Chiang Mai. Leaving behind our hotel's wonderful breakfasts and the Thewet Fish Market as the only real things that stood out as being good in Bangkok, we arrived in Chiang Mai ready to be impressed. The moated city is nice and the conveyed sense of history combined with a cleaner and less congested city put us in the right frame of mind to enjoy Chiang Mai. The lion's share of our time in Chiang Mai was spent shopping. This mostly meant Mom saying "wow, this is so cheap!" to something that was pretty expensive, or "100 baht, that's ridiculous!" to something that cost $3. So I managed the cash and the haggling while Mom kept us on task--or constantly shopping.
No, OK, it wasn't that bad. After the first 3 or 4 days we got out of the city...first for an adventurous motorcycle ride up the mountain to an impressive wat (temple), to tour the grounds of the King's Summer Palace, Bhubing, and to continue over the mountain on some precarious roads towards a hill tribe village. The next day was cool as well...our "one day trekking" which meant that we would go for an elephant ride, a hike to a waterfall and do some bamboo rafting. The elephant was unruly, constantly bringing his trunk back for more bananas and sugar cane which we would buy from the women in the bamboo huts along the way. When our mahout (elephant trainer) got off of his head (where he sat...seemingly prepared to fall and be trampled) and let me sit on his neck...the big bull only became greedier and afer a battle of wills and me continueing to push his trunk back, he finally reached his trunk up into my shirt and pulled me towards his mouth. The mahout quickly stepped in...if not I would have lost a shirt or worse, have been elephant food.
In "the worst place I've ever stayed," Mom can be seen here, in our room spitting her toothpaste into her hand, laughing, after running from the lizards in the bathroom. Chiang Rai--where we had the amazing motorcycle ride at dusk, saw the buddha in the cave, and ate very bad (and slow) lebanese food.
After Chiang Mai we decided we would head to Railay, near Krabi in the south on the Andaman Sea. The Lonely Planet (referred to here after as the Book or simply Bible) recommended Railay as it's favorite beach and the Seattleite that we met in Bangkok (who's husband was hospitalized with Dengue Fever) gave it similarly high marks. They were both right, and our four nights at the Sand Sea Resort were very comfortable. Reading, taking in Sunsets...not a difficult life. Even though I was plagued by a head cold and stomach issues--I didn't have much room for complaing. Railay and the beach next door, Ton Sai, are also the epicenter of the best rock climbing in Thailand and some of the best in the world.
Our bungalow in Railay
From Railay, and hauling Mom's two bags full of Christmas presents, we made it back to Ao Nang and to the Krabi Airport where we waved goodbye and our Thailand travel buddy days were over :(
Last night before Mom heads home
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Just like that and phase II of the trip begins. Phase I, or 'Mom and Asia,' was great. We jet-set around Thailand in better than backpacker fashion. First it was a sea of yellow and pink shirts as we arrived in the airport. The ride to our hotel was slow due to the birthday traffic...which exaserbated the fact that I had passed up a bathroom opportunity in the airport. This led to what could have been a very messy situation, but we got through it and finally arrived to our hotel. Bangkok was our aclimatization point at our serene Phranakorn bed and breakfast (with some very interesting and good introductions to Thai food...for breakfast). After days or walking around aimlessly, inhaling fumes, celebrating the kings 80th birthday and generally saying hello to Thailand we set off for Chiang Mai in the North... (I ran out of steam here...see above for more info)
What a great day! I decided to put off Malaysia for a day as it might work out better for me not to come back to the Krabi area. But before I went I definitely wanted to do some rock climbing on the world class cliffs around Railay. I took a longboat over to the beach one more time and signed up to go in the afternoon. My fingers are still tired and slow to type and I'm sure I'll be sore tomorrow, but it was so much fun! Definitely going to start climbing in the New River Gorge when I'm home. All in all I did 6 separate climbs, the longest of which was 90 feet high. By the last one I could barely make a fist because my forarms were so shot. And the views from the top (climbing up directly off the beach) were gorgeous--the cove off of Railay East...pretty stunning.
Back in Ao Nang after another great sunset and I had my first street Pad Thai. Now that Mom's gone I've gone budget...real Thailand. It was good and I think I'm still disease free!
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Back in Bangkok, but I've been so bad about writing that everytime I do write it's about something that happened a week or more ago.
After another night in Ao Nang I decided not to waste anymore time in this beach town and to instead head back over to the isthmus and give Ton Sai a shot. The morning that I was set to head over, I noticed that a guy sitting next to me in the internet cafe had a shirt that said "Seneca Rocks" on it. Seneca Rocks, WV is pretty close to home and he told me that he lived there for 9 months and came over to Ton Sai from November to February every year to climb and generally take it easy. Not bad. He gave me a recommendation for a place to stay and I saw him later that afternoon as once again we were neighbors (this time, our bungalows). Ton Sai was fantastic, full of world class climbers and really a great group of fun people. Just by some of the cliffs on the beach is a bar that is the best place from which to watch the sunset. It was hear that I met James and Jenn, from Britain (although Jenn a Canadian transplant), who I would run into and hang out with for the next couple of days. As we were having our first of many Thai buckets (or equivalent), we heard a large crash behind us. I assumed that it was something in the kitchen, but everyone kept their attention focused. From 1000 ft up on the overhanging cliff, a rock had fallen onto the tiny table in between two german guys playing checkers! There had a been a large glass ashtray between them which was looked as if it has been vaporized...except for the larger pieces of glass shrapnel that were found a few mintues later in the bleeding forearm of one of the players. But business went on as usual, the mess was swept up and the checkers game resumed just a few feet (yet still under the overhang) of where it had been played before. Wow!
Although it was difficult to pull myself away from Ton Sai...a Christmas Eve Full Moon Party on Ko Pha Ngan (pronounced Ko Pan Yang) was too much to pass up. So the morning of the 23rd I packed up, had one more mango with sticky rice and coconut milk and hit the road. I bought into a package bus-boat non-deal that would get me to the island and ended up with some crazy Canadian girls. The slow ferry finally got us there after an incredible sunset, a 6th round of beers and some R&B on the mini-speakers. On the boat I met Tam and Suzy and we banded together as we were the only people we knew who had no accomodation booked already. We made it alright and although we weren't in the cheapest or the most beautiful spot--it was comfortable and safe. We went over that night to the party beach of Hat Rin and got a little taste of what this thing was going to be. Big. Christmas Eve, I had a nice time exploring the island by motorcycle and found some gorgeous beaches (where I should have stayed). Then it was to the party! Luckily I found Tam and Suzy right away (among thousands of people on the beach) and it was an incredible spectacle. Merry Christmas at midnight, then a nap from 2:30-5 made it possible for me to party til sunrise. Crazy party--better described by the pictures I'll eventually post.
From Ko Pha Ngan it was by boat to Surat Thani, then an overnight train to Bangkok.
Back now and after exploring the Grand Palace this morning (Wats and Palaces aren't for me) I was surprised to get an email from my buddy from Vanderbilt who I was planning to visit in Shanghai but who is in Bangkok now to renew his visa! Fantastic. So we've had a good afternoon by rooftop pool at his hotel and are planning on having a big one tonight.
1/1/08
Thanks for writing you three, it's really nice to have new emails from Seattle and Canada and West Virginia. Fun to have the mental image of what's going on simultaneously in such different places. And a Happy New Year to everyone, as well!
I made it into Cambodia, but not without considerable hassle. Had to put up a pretty strong fight at the border with police and the 'tourist agents.' Everyone wanted a piece of the western pie...it was one of the most difficult borders I've had to cross...probably more difficult than Colombia-Venezuela because at least then I could understand what they were saying!
Just after paying too much for my visa, I met an American couple in their early 30s and two Chinese girls that are probably my age (a very rare sight to see two Chinese girls backpacking like that). We waded through the gauntlet of taxi scams together (having to speak Spanish to one another so the taxi drivers couldn't understand us) and finally the five of us squeezed into a Toyota Camry and made the 3 1/2 hr trip to Siem Reap, where I now find myself.
Apparently the road between the border and Siem Reap is kept in such a terrific state of disrepair (and it is really bad) because the major airline that flies between Bangkok and Siem Reap pays enough in bribes to keep them from paving what otherwise would be a flat, straight road. Sadly and foolishly this keeps the people who live along this stretch of road depressed (and likely ill because of all the dust) and projects a very unwelcoming image to new arrivals. As the sun set on 2007 we were dodging cows, dogs and kids just barely and giant pot holes less successfully.
The scam continued as we arrived to town, being transferred from the taxi to his friends on motorcycles and tuk-tuks who were very forceful and intent on getting paid to take us to a hotel. Finally, it all worked out and we were having a beer on a rooftop overlooking Siem Reap as the clock struck 12 and the fireworks lit the sky.
And that was my New Years.
Taking a rest day today, but tomorrow it'll be up early exploring the ruins of Angkor Wat.
I am keeping a blog of sorts, but haven't yet put it up on the web. It's more of a journal and I kind of like it that way. For one, it doesn't have to be put into an edited, readable version. I've also been so busy moving around that it's hard to take the time to compose something that I'd like others to read.
Happy New Year, I hope you're all doing well.
1/2/08
What a day!
With the 1970's cruiser bicycle as my steed, I headed out this morning at 7am to see the talk of the town--the temples at Angkor.
All in all it was a 10 hour day (with a one hour nap at a particularly peaceful temple) of riding 30 miles between amazing feats of architecture and human ingenuity. My pictures, or probably even better--a google images search of Angkor would probably tell a better story--but it is an amazing place and even bests Machu Picchu in some ways. The enormity of the Khmer empire is what was maybe most amazing. From here, it ruled from present day India to Vietnam. In riding those 30 miles I stopped at 10 or so very unique temple complexes (with several buildings)--very large temples some with motes as wide as a football field. Some of the temples has been restored to resemble what they looked like in their day--others had been overrun by nature with giant trees growing on top of them, their roots a web entangling the structure on the way to the ground.
Probably the best thing about the day was that I was on the bike. The sweet little kids who are made to sell you books and t-shirts smile and wave HELLO when I went by, and riding back to the town in Siem Reap I was the only foreigner (not in a tour bus) in the rush of bicycle, motorbike, car, bus and truck traffic, fellow bikers smiling to me as I passed them.
So it was a great albeit exhausting day--now I'll go have a couple beers, enjoy the HBO that was just today turned on in my room (!) and head out tomorrow for Phnom Penh.
1/4/08
For some reason I only met Canadians in Siem Reap and Angkor...but they were some good ones--had lots of fun.
For my last meal in town, I had a great omelette with the very best bread that I have had so far in Asia. It was a baguette with the perfect thin crust on the outside and a soft, warm inside that was almost like a dense croissant. The french occupation here has left a nice legacy. It was also a nice respite from the fried rice with steak that I had eaten for breakfast, lunch, and dinner the day before! Self-imposed and glorious--I'm not having any trouble adjusting to Cambodian food.
The bus ride from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh was noteworthy. We left at 12:30 and after my last bus experience I have learned to choose which side of the bus to sit on as to avoid the sun beaming in through the windows. Having chosen that seat when buying the ticket, I had put myself next to Annie (surely not how she spells it, but that's what it sounded like), a 22 year old Cambodian who is studying to become an accountant. She loved practicing her english and asking me questions, and I enjoyed her effort to try to teach me some Khmer words and was able to ask her about her surgical mask. So it was like this we travelled down the road, enjoying the ride and doazing in and out of consciousness. The in to consciousness, however, became more and more prevalent as the driver would not lay off of the horn. It was as if he was having a conversations with his fellow motorists, using the horn to denote every syllable of his speech. To keep from strangling him, this is what I imagined he was doing, sometimes trying to figure out what he was saying. There would be phrases such as "Excuse me, here I come" (6 honks--not near anyone), "MOVEEEEE" (one very long honk), "I can't believe you are driving so slowly. You shouldn't be on the road and I plan on making that happen" (28 honks). The latter type conversations were the most prevalent...so obnoxious...as if he was scared to be driving so fast and was willing people to get out of his way.
Another interesting and unexpected part of the bus trip was the culinary adventure that it became. We made two long stops, on the first I ate a steaming ball of wet looking bread filled with meats and onions and other unidentifiable things. That was fun. Then, at the next stop I ate mango dipped in some very harsh salt/sugar/pepper mix and had an egg. What I didn't eat at the second stop, but was surprised to see them being sold--were the large black figures that from further away looked like an '8'a bit smaller than my hand, with several little sticks poking out from it. Maybe a meat lollipop? That sounds good. No, GIANT tarantulas...a mountain of them ready to sell by every vendor. Because I wasn't considering eating them, my concern moved to where they had come from. Imported from somewhere far away I hope, India maybe. Unfortunately, the women selling them didn't look quite so industrious--so I confronted the truth and slept last night with my covers wrapped a little tighter.
Which brings me to Phnom Penh--not what I was expecting at all. The bus came into town among a sea of neon sign, a wedding off to the right, a small carnival with rides to the left. So cool. Then, with a british girl named Emma that I had met on the bus, we went to the guesthouses on the lake. I didn't realize how literally they meant on the lake...when you step from the road into the guesthouse, you are over the lake. There are several of them in this little tourist ghetto, all with rooms over the water and big communal decks complete with pool tables, hammocks, tv's, etc. All on rickety wooden floors held up by rickety wooden posts. Over a lake. Pool table. Really, they are extremely cool with beautiful views over the lake and I'm told to expect a beautiful sunset tonight, as well. All this in Central Phnom Penh! And my room feels like I'm on a boat...lined with linoleum the walls are meant to look wooden on the bottom half, and white on the top half. The boat feel continues as you look out the window and see that you're over water. The same water that you can hear the toilet draining into. No swimming for me, but for $3.50 a night, I'm a happy sailor.
Now off to the US embassy to get more pages put into my passport which is now officially full, then to go get my Vietnamese visa. Tomorrow I'll visit the Killing Fields and a school turned into a place of torture and death. Should be pretty rough.
Oh, and just got an email from a friend of mine in Brazil that she and two of her friends are coming to SE Asia and I'll be seeing them soon! Amazing...love it.
1/5/08
Excited to be back on American soil, if only for a few hours at most, I had a skip in my step as I walked from my guesthouse towards the American Embassy. As I approached the mammoth complex with its ornate, yet unlit Christmas decorations, I was looking forward to the experience of visiting an embassy abroad, something I'd never before needed to do. I arrived at one of the gates and was ushered around to the other side. It was here that a door cracked open, the air conditioning spewing out as the Cambodian man dressed in a blue uniform decorated with a crest with an eagle, almost like the presidential seal, told me that they were open on Fridays only for emergencies. I told him that without more pages in my passport I was unable to get a visa and to keep my travel plans. This, to me, seemed necessary enough to ask that someone take the 5 minutes to make it happen. Not allowing me to come in, they took my passport and tried in vain to call the consulate to see if this could happen. I guess they had left the office early! When he came back I asked if he could call again and if I could come inside the outtermost gate of what was my own country? He feigned a lack of english comprehension to answer such a question with words, and instead just smiled and shook his head as if he were embarrassed. I was embarrassed too. Nor did I get the feeling that, if in a shoot out with Cambodian drug dealers I would be provided cover while I was swallowed by the safety of my American home. Interestingly enough, everything is open here 7 days a week--there really isn't a distinction between weekday and weekend because they don't rest on the sabbath...they work and try to better their lives. Americans, though, already have lives that are good enough it seems--and those working abroad grant themselves 4 day work weeks. And although the embassy is fully staffed 24/7, they can't grant one of these employees power to add pages to someone's passport--a 5 minute task that is essential to those traveling, but that is reserved for the fat cats in the consulate office. Not impressed, America.
1/6/08
Waiting for my visa to come through has been a blessing in disguise. With no rush, I've had a few days to get to know Phnom Penh. I already know that it's a great place to hang out--no shortage of pool games, or rummy or cool people to be had--and the sunset on the lake every night is something you don't find in capital cities (this is going to end, unfortunately, as plans are under way to raze the neighborhoods around the lake, pour concrete and make it another set of city blocks). Yesterday I rented a motorcycle and decided to brave the crazy streets of this city. They are the craziest that I've seen so far. There seem to be no rules, really. People going both ways in both lanes, merging means driving the wrong way in the opposite lane as people stop to let you join the traffic, and crossing a street is like playing high stakes dodgeball. I had an incomplete map that showed me the general direction of the Killing Fields of Choeng Ek. According to my guide it is only 9 miles out of town but I went much further than that and never did find what I was looking for. So with a firm resolve I got up early this morning, asked for better directions and eventually found it. Amazing place. 129 mass graves, 43 of which have yet to be excavated. They built a glass stupa as a monument that houses 8,000 human skulls that they have found, so far. The scale of the tragedy and the recency is striking. As are the little or sometimes big bits of bone that you see poking up from the ground as you're walking around the grounds. Even though they tried to help, it was hard to imagine (maybe by choice) what had really happened there--and I found myself most saddened not by the bones of children who had suffered, but by the children on the other side of the chain link fence that were begging and suffering still--just in a different way.
From there, it was on to Toeng Sol, back in town, a school that had been converted into a torture prison. An amazing museum now--it feels like nothing has really changed since this all happened. Of course they have put up photo exhibits of the prisoners, some accompanied by biographies--and the torture equipment has explanations next to them....but other than that it all looks the same. The photos on the walls of some of the cells showed the room in the very some condition--with the same stains on the tiles of the floor on which I was now standing.
As morbid as the days activities were, it was great to be out amongst the people on the bike. I dressed as closely to a cambodian as my wardrobe would allow, wore a full helmet with reflective face shield and even had a krama (head scarf) underneath--so that when I was riding I was hardly recognizable as a farang (foreigner).
After returning the bike, I tried they're national dish, Amok, which is a meat (traditionally fish, which I had) in a cocunut sauce like a curry, over rice. It was so good! Satisfied, I had a lazy rest of the day--going for a little walk, getting my laundry done and then I returned to the guesthouse for another great sunset. Not a bad day.
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