phitar posted a photo:
right at sunset, men pastering the rock with tiny squares of gold foil. supposedly it is held by a hair of buddha.
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phitar posted a photo:
my friend peter just joined flickr, so here is a photo i "stole" from him as he was shooting with his medium size camera. a very talented photographer and an awesome philosophy of life !
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Leif Pettersen finishes his travels in Myanmar and interviews a local.
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yolise posted a photo:
Mandalay market, Myanmar
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yolise posted a photo:
Wee monks watching the boats unloading behind the Katrina Festival grounds.
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yolise posted a photo:
Lake Inle, Myanmar
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yolise posted a photo:
Or so the sign said. I had to crop out 'Special' as the blown out table top annoyed me.
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yolise posted a photo:
Mandalay market, Myanmar
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Leif Pettersen tours the Disney World of pagodas.
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Displeased with getting ripped off, Leif Pettersen finds a way cut off the cash cow - he hopes.
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Leif Pettersen learns how gold leaves are made and the biterness of the government.
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Leif Pettersen takes on Mandalay's sites by bike.
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through Southeast Asia by the many land, sea and air links. A person can board the train from Kunming in the southwest of China, and travel through Myanmar, Copyright: Singapore Star
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awfulsara posted a photo:
My favorite little imp & his family.
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awfulsara posted a photo:
She had a piercing look, shy but curious, as were many of the kids I met.
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awfulsara posted a photo:
On her cheeks the traditional thanaka paste, and a very typical Burmese bag slung around her shoulders.
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awfulsara posted a photo:
An incredible temple, small and intricate. Check out Phitar's lovely shot of it in better light (and smaller bushes!!)
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awfulsara posted a photo:
Near a small temple at Mingun, this tiny child and her brother played in the gutter, which dwarfed her.
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awfulsara posted a photo:
Couldn't resist this grin. :)
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awfulsara posted a photo:
One of the friendliest kids ever, offering me a packet of instant coffee in his little French sweatshirt.
More Europeans seem to come to Burma than anything else, lots of French tour groups (lots is relative word here) and some brought practical things like clothes for the kids. Others brought the requisite Bad Stuff - candy, toys that require batteries, etc. Always sad to see such places become Westernized, seems inevitable that no matter where you go, where you left will follow you.
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awfulsara posted a photo:
These scrappy little monklets thought it great fun to pick each other up by the skull. I took the photo mostly so they would stop doing it :)
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yolise posted a photo:
Named for the tiny dragon circling the pagoda.
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yolise posted a photo:
The world's longest teak bridge, this one stretches 1.2 km across Lake Taungthaman.
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1 aug 2005: why counselling is so important in hiv testing...
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well, the prelims are just over.. with one down, ive got a large one ahead.. ard 40 days i presume.. tink i really have to get my act together and its about time i guess.. its difficult to come to fully understand the importance of the A levels.. i mean the direction of our lives will be set with the results from this exam.. be it succeeding and finding great jobs or just getting stuck in a rut and having no where to go.. which way do i wanna go? its obvious and anyone who doesnt know the obvious answer ought to...... yes... moving on, believe many people get really depressed during this period of time.. no outings.. only the four walls of wherever you study.. (ok you have more than 4 walls in some places.) so the gravity of the situation really is daunting.. am i up to it? well my guess is as good as yours.. all i can do however is to put my trust in God.. i know that the plans he has for me are only for my benefit and all i have to do is to do my best..
have you ever wondered where you'll be when you die? seriously? tink about it.. i mean life just goes with the click of the mouse.. (maybe not so fast) but its still worth considering.. for me, im sure.. how bout you? with all that ive seen over the years with all the missions trips and all that, spirits do exist be it they be good or bad.. there is really no doubt.. A God exists.. and from my point of view, Jesus lives.. My many mission trips to Myanmar have really served to open my eyes.. literally, right in front of my eyes, you see demon possessed people rolling about and cursing and vomiting when prayed for.. although wad you see in the movies are sometimes overdrawn for entertainment, the real thing does freak you out.. these are ordinary folks who lead normal lives.. but then prayed for, the demons that reside in them without the person's knowledge reacts and wad you see is most of the time, really scary.. so do you expect me to believe that spirits dun exist? So you ask, how do you know that Jesus is the true and living God? well for one, the demons fear even his name let alone the spirit of God.. there're so many stories that i can tell you to prove this point.. there was once in Myanmar in the northern states, my father was praying for this girl who had some problems.. the name Jesus is above every other name and so in prayer, my father just prayed for her asking for wadever that was burdening her to be removed.. unknowingly, later the demon within her began to manifest.. the whole group of christians dan surrounded her and continued praying.. into it, the spirit thru her began to plead for us to stop praying and to spare it.. you know that you know that that was the demon speaking.. you have to be there to know.. so to cut the story short, the demon was cast out and until today, she has been a conpletely changed person, active in church..
i have no idea why i wrote this today.. just wanted to just share my experiences with you all.. im indeed blessed becos of the fact that most of my friends are christians and quite fervent ones as well.. but there are those who are christians yet professional ones, living double lives and acting totally different in church and elsewhere.. im not perfect by all means, ive made my mistakes and i try to watch myself in wad i say and do.. but there are those who dont..
change is the only constant in life.. For those who arent christians, i hope this entry has been an enlightening experience on one of the many ways the spirit of God moves in.. i seriously dunno why i wrote my entry like that.. Jesus loves you and he died for you.. where will you be after life? and even if you're saved, how are you going to account for your life on earth? did you even try to lead your friends to heaven? it all boils down to really being a true disciple for Christ..
hope you've understood wad ive said.. :)
Cheers and God Bless!
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200122731Mawdinsoun Full Moon Festival from 27 Feb.-1 Mar. 2001
Lonely Planet Myanmar, p. 203
Google100km
I left for Mawdinsoun (Mawdin Point) to see the Full Moon Festival. Mawdinsoun is located at the most southwest point of the Ayeyarwady Delta (Irrawaddy Delta) facing both the Bengal Bay and the Andaman Sea (refer to the Google Maps). It is about 100 km away south from Pathein. Foreigners must get a special permission to go to Mawdinsoun in advance. You also have to check the schedule of the festival in advance because it varies depending on the full moon day every year. Only during the festival, special ferries sail between Pathein and Mawdin. The ferry departed from Pathein early in the morning. I found outlets in the cabin. I played with my computer with a power supply connected to the outlet, drinking Mandalay Beer. And then the ferry arrived at Mawdin in the evening.
This is a rare photo of the entrance of the Full Moon Festival, which may be never-before-seen.
The stupa situated on the top of the mountain is the Mawdin Paya (Mawdin Pagoda). This paya features tiles of glass covering itself on the surface.
You can see lines of booths along the beach. At the side of the beach there were a lot of restaurants most of which also offered VCD karaoke. Many people were singing there. I did not know that Myanmar people loved karaoke very much until then. At the side of the mountain there were many grocery stores and apparel shops. I found some fortune-tellers and small theaters there, too. It was more crowded at the night.
There was a small paya on the beach.
A Nat god was situated beside the small paya. There are usually Nat gods beside stupas in Myanmar.
Craggy beach spread behind the Nat god.
Time to go back to Pathein came after I had enjoyed the festival. I was taking a ferry to depart from Mawdinsoun early in the morning and arrive at Pathein in the evening. This photo shows the full moon above the Bengal Bay early in the morning.
Guidebook for Myanmar:
Lonely Planet Myanmar (Burma), 8th ed.
Myanmar Country Map: (Burma) (Periplus Travel Maps)
Myanmar (Burma) Map (Nelles Guides and Maps)
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phitar posted a photo:
i saw the accident, it just happened.
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phitar posted a photo:
two women return from the market on lake inle, right after sunset.
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phitar posted a photo:
rice powder caught in spider webs
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yolise posted a photo:
Shwe Kyet Yet, Sagaing
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2001226Pathein Hotel on 26 Feb. 2001
Lonely Planet Myanmar, p. 201
I stayed in Pathein Hotel on that day. It was still a national hotel in those days. Today Myanmar Treasure Resorts manages this hotel. I think its facility is one of the best in Pathein though it is far from the center of Pathein. Room 201 on the 2nd floor is the best room.
The yard becomes a beer garden at the night.
Outlet was the B3 plug type at that time. After remodeling of the hotel, now the outlet is for A, B and C types. The voltage is about 220V.
There was a phone in the room. But you had to ask the operator when you wanted to make outgoing calls to the outside of the hotel.
You can read "OVER SEA," "Reception," "Booking." You have to book international calls at the reception in Pathein Hotel. In addition, nobody knows when the international call will be available.
Blackout often occurs in Myanmar. Such a device is always intermediated between outlets and air conditioners and refrigerators integrated with compressors. Once a blackout, the device will start transmitting electricity five minutes later after electricity resumes. But the device never lets an air conditioner turned on because timer count starts from zero again during blackout occurs continuously every 2 or 3 minutes.
Guidebook for Myanmar:
Lonely Planet Myanmar (Burma), 8th ed.
Myanmar Country Map: (Burma) (Periplus Travel Maps)
Myanmar (Burma) Map (Nelles Guides and Maps)
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Hi Kit
I made my first trip to Myanmar in 1996 and know first hand the shameful state that country is in. Like all Asian political leaders the so called senior general there believes he owns the country. Our last leader was the one who brought this general into ASEAN. Does "birds of the same feathers flock together" sound familiar? They truly believe that everyone else is just a guest. That is...
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200122425Chaungtha Beach from 24-25 Feb. 2001
Lonely Planet, p. 203-205
4
This is a trip conducted four years ago. But at that time I could visit Chaungtha Beach and Mawdinsoun (Mawdin Point), Ayeyarwady Division though foreigners are not allowed to go to the latter place principally. I have never heard of a traveler to Mawdin, so I will upload my article about Mawdin later.
p.64; Lonely Planet p203No. 5666
I stayed in Grand Hotel (Lonely Planet, No. 5 on the map in p. 203). It was not bad, but electricity was available only from 6 pm to 6 am and unavailable from 6 am to 6 pm in all the accommodations in Chaungtha. As the air conditioner was not available in the daytime, either, you had to swim in the sea if it was hot. But availability of electricity might be improved because recently a small generating station from wind power and solar power was built.
There was a small paya in the beach.
This is a hole bored by a tiny crab. Crabs usually stay on the sand, but they all rush into the holes when someone comes up to them.
This is a gorgeous pair-ox cart. It was attached with umbrellas.
A beverage of sugar palm is available in Chaungtha. It is collected in the morning. It is still sweet during the morning, but it becomes to have less sweetness and more alcohol in the afternoon because of natural fermentation.
Guidebook for Myanmar:
Lonely Planet Myanmar (Burma), 8th ed.
Myanmar Country Map: (Burma) (Periplus Travel Maps)
Myanmar (Burma) Map (Nelles Guides and Maps)
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zcitpo posted a photo:
traditional myanmar snack
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tripID=tourmartina2005&tweb_entryID=1118689980&random=48537" width="329" height="340" align="right" valign="top" border="0" />
Yangon, Myanmar
Myanmar is beautiful, the people are very friendly, there are only a few tourists and therefore, the whole atmosphere is different to the countries I have so far visited.
The capital Yangon is famous for its Schwedagon-Pagoda, where I took a guide - normally I just visit all the sights with my lonely planet book guide but here one local addresses me and tells me that he really needs the money as I am the first tourist today and there are not many tourists around. Of course I agree and it is very interesting.
In ther afternoon, I meet a Swiss girl, we wander through the city and as we don't find a nice place for us to sit, have a chat and enjoy a drink, we end up in the lobby of a big hotel, where we enjoy a coffee and a nice homemade bread from the hotel's bakery.
My trip through Myanmar should include highlights such as Mandalay and Bagan, former cities of the royals, and Inle-lake, where locals live on stilt-houses and have so called floating gardens where they grow vegatables which they export to the rest of the country.
There are several possibilites to travel in Myanmar, either by bus, by car and driver or to fly. Due it being rainy time and traveling alone as a woman and not so many tourists being around and also due to the fact that flights are very cheap, I decide to fly from Yangon to Mandalay, from Mandalay to Bagan I take the famous boatroute on the Irrawaday river, from Bagan I fly to Inle-Lake and from there back to Yangon. But here my trip in detail:
I arrive on the aiport of Mandalay as the only tourist, the airport seems completely new, my backpack is the only one coming in on the luggage train, the whole arrival hall is dark, I guess they figured that they don't have to turn the light on just because of me. Outside the arrival hall, all the taxi drivers are just waiting for me, no bus comes here, 45 min from the city, therefore I am forced to take a taxi for US$ 10, a lot of money in this country.
I arrive in a nice hostel and decide to immediately discover the city on foot. I walk to the nearby Manadaly Fort, the former royal palace, but I underestimate the size of this huge area, each side has 2km and by the time I arrive at the entrance at the other side of the compound, I have walked for about an hour and I am very exhausted - it is lunchtime and boiling hot. I decide not to go inside this huge areal, but to walk up the nearby Mandalay Hill to enjoy a nice view on the city and the fort. On the way to the stairs i meet a funny elderly lady.
Copyright: Copyright (c) 2005, TravelPod
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With Toe as his guide, Leif Pettersen completes his whirlwind trip of Yangon.
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==== Trained ====
Vang Vieng, as my travelling companions and I later concluded, is a very weird town. Not Austin weird. Not Creepy Neighbor Next Door weird. Just weird.
The herds of travelers seated on bamboo mats and masses of pillows watching "Friends" are, for me, concerning no matter how you look at it. Some sit in front of the TVs with their jaws hanging open -- watching a full day of nonstop episodes -- because they're off their mind on everything from the happy shakes to opium tea. And others actually sit there while sober. In a town surrounded by breathtaking landscape and countless outlets for exploration and adventure, I'm just not sure which is more strange. I won't say "I hate to judge," because I do.
But to each their own. I signed up with the most reputable whitewater tour shop I could find. They made me sign a waiver acknowledging the lack of health facilities in the country; I thought their lawyer went a little too far in drafting it. The phrase "if something goes wrong, you are sca-rewed" was completely unnecessary.
I didn't find anyone in town who was interested in doing whitewater with me, so when I discovered that they had a tour with three Scandinavian girls already signed up, I jumped on it. Going with a larger group would cost much less. Yes, cost is important you see. Regardless, I asked if I could go in my own whitewater kayak -- alone -- rather than the large, multi-person inflatable rafts. The guy booking the trip asked me if I was qualified to do this. "Yes" I said, with only a hint of hesitation. Per my request, he assured me that there would be another guide in a solo kayak.
I was excited. And I was qualified, I think. I had completed a multi-month course in DC with excellent instructors, albeit a year ago, and felt I could handle the Class 3 rapids we would face.
The next day I met the main guide, whose name is pronounced "Air." As we rode in the back of a pickup to the site where we'd meet the three other girls coming from Vientiane, Air informed me that in fact I'd be the lone solo kayaker. I wasn't happy about that. I felt lied to, and also much less safe as your kayaking buddy is an important safety device. But short of not going down the river, there wasn't much I could do.
It had poured the night before, like it does every night in the heat of the rainy season. As we crossed the bridge over the fast-moving river awaiting us that day, Air yelled out with a smile and a nod of his head "This is going to be fun!"
We met at the entry point with three friendly Finnish girls studying in Bangkok. They had made a quick trip into Laos to renew the visa-free stay of 30 days that Thailand grants foreigners upon entry.
I got in a Dagger kayak similar to what I used in the US, except that this was a planing hull design that was both more difficult to roll and new to me. The differences weren't that great though, and as I entered the water to test out the boat I reassured myself, thinking "I've trained for this -- I can do it!"
I then proceeded to flip the kayak intentionally and immediately failed to complete a roll back upright. Stuck underwater with no choice but to eject, I laughed at my failed optimism and attempted the roll again, this time completing an impressive series of successful practice rolls. It inspired confidence in the rest of my group -- not so much in me. After all, rolling in calm water doesn't say much for what will happen in the rapids.
But we were off. Every thought I had of the swarm of helicopters and firefighters that could descend on a troubled kayaker in the Potomac, as opposed to the toothless rice planter with a long bamboo stick that might reach out to me on the Nam Lik, was put in the back of my brain. Perhaps unwisely so. The days of heavy rain had left the river much higher and faster than usual, definitely upping the skill required.
But as we hit the rapids I remembered just how amazing this is! The inflatable rafts containing the Finnish girls are near impossible to flip by design, yet still launched two of the poor girls in a rather impressive ejector-seat manner. My own fear of the potential dangers of the situation, fueled by the unique burden of being mostly responsible for my own safety should something happen, gave me a rush. I passed through the first set safely, avoiding a confrontation with my lack of proven rolling by keeping the kayak upright with a few well-timed hip snaps and paddle braces. The second, and much stronger, set of rapids were more powerful than I had ever seen!
I zipped between whirlpools and heavy waves when out of nowhere I fell right into an amazing hole where the waves pushed together, creating a drop of about three meters!! I have no idea how I managed to pop out of that, but as I blew the water from my mouth and paddled forward forcefully to maintain control, I quickly came upon a second drop that flipped me like a sun-burned pancake. The rapids were so rough that I just couldn't roll back up, and eventually ejected before I went too far downstream without control. Thankfully this was towards the end, and I managed to hold on to the kayak and paddle until one of the other boats exited the rapids and helped me steady myself to get back inside.
Yeah!!!!
We broke for lunch halfway through on some shaded rocks that were being increasingly overtaken by the river, as it seemed to swell throughout the day. I again enjoyed Laos' beautiful butterflies as we waited for our guides to dole out our lunchtime rice and kabobs. The butterflies were everywhere, swarming around us like flies. I just couldn't believe it. They landed on us one after another, and after a while there were just so many that we had to shake them off our hands and food. An amazing thing to experience.
Later that day, having passed through all of the rapids, we enjoyed a nice float to our pick up spot. During this otherwise quiet time Air flipped over one of the inflatable kayaks (and the Finnish girl inside) and stood on top of the capsized boat, urging the water-logged girl to join him for a wrestling match on his floating stage. She joined, but a bit hesitantly so, seeming a little less thrilled to do it again after she quickly flew off the slippery surface into the surrounding water.
I asked her to hold on to my kayak while I gave it a try. I popped out with my spray skirt still on and climbed on top. We had a good few rounds, trying to psych each other out by shaking the boat and making false moves before we even made contact. I did pretty well for myself, but perhaps he went easy on me in hopes of an ego-boosted tip. I have no problem with this. The best part of the experience was an awesome picture one of the Finnish girls snapped of us both flying away from the boat in a "V" shape. She promised to email it to me, and I hope to share.
==== Rouuuuuuuuu ====
I looked forward to lots of activity in Vang Vieng, and didn't want to miss any opportunities. There were times in Vietnam that I had passed on similar chances because of cost, and I regretted it. That being said, I splurged and signed up for another tour of sorts the next day. Now of course, by splurge I should say that the tour cost $8.
With my trip came breakfast and lunch, and I quickly made friends with a pair of Israelis that morning over coffee and eggs. They just seemed glad to be talking to someone who wasn't from Israel.
Apparently people in Israel hear about Vang Vieng long before they even consider going to Southeast Asia. It's kind of like Israeli heaven. The overwhelming majority of visitors there are Israeli, so much so that signs are almost as likely to be in Hebrew as they are English. Internet cafes have Hebrew installed on the computers, and restaurants proudly boast their Israeli-aimed menus.
Coupled with all the other Israelis I meet while travelling, along with the small size and population of the country, it makes you wonder just who the hell is left in Israel. "The army and the elderly" they told me.
Also joining in the group were four Danish girls. I thought they were travelling together, as I find Scandinavian girls usually travel in packs, but it turned out these two separate pairs had just met that day for the trip. It was a good group.
Piling in the back of a pickup truck, we headed north of town and dropped into the Nam (River) Song with a set of flatwater kayaks. We then paddled downstream over some very calm rapids and after a short walk through rice fields and small villages, arrived at the mouth of the Water Cave.
The Water Cave was one of the better caves I've seen! They plop you into an inner tube and give you a much needed helmet if you ask persuasively enough. Stringing a large battery pack with loose wires hanging out the side around your neck, they connect the electrical wiring to a cheap light around your head. Brilliant. We then entered the mouth of the cave by inner tube, moving along with a series of ropes. From there we floated, climbed, and downright crawled on our stomachs through narrow passageways giving way to larger rooms.
Afterwards we had lunch, saw another much less impressive cave that was more of an indent in the side of a mountain, and then made our way downstream, following the famed tubing route bordering Vang Vieng.
This is kind of like "floating the river" in Central Texas, except lined with hordes of Laotians aching to sell you Beer Lao. In exchange they let you fly into the river with their own beautifully rigged slide, zip line, giant swing, bamboo sling-shot, etc.
We stopped at one such establishment that had a swing you stood on over the river. A team of Israeli guys on the shore then proceed to pull the attached rope back as far as they can. As you rise who knows how high off the ground, they hold you up there for a second and then let go, propelling you like a rocket as the swing arcs upward and (hopefully) you jump into the water below. This is the kind of stuff you pay $75 to do at Six Flags. Well, sort of.
The two Israelis in our group are unique to me in that they are the first I've met to actually practice orthodox Judaism. As the day went on, they would tell me stories of how they observe the holy day from Friday's sunset to Saturday's sunset while on the road. They can't handle money, for instance, and to eat on that day must seek out a restaurant that will let them order and pre-pay for a full day's meals in advance. As you could imagine, this is quite a challenge in a foreign country where you don't speak the language.
That point being made, they declined my invitation to join the rest of the group for dinner after we arrived back in town that Friday night. A large group of Israeli's were getting together to celebrate the holy day together. The four Danish girls were game though, and we set a time to meet.
I felt like an undeservedly lucky man as I went out that night with the blonde brigade, handling the good fortune that had rained down upon me as best I could. My obvious lack of a wing man (or three) was a little concerning, but I just reassured myself, thinking "I can do this -- I've trained for this!"
We had a good meal and headed to one of the town's slew of bars. Surrounding a table with drinks in hand, one of the girls reached for a nearby deck of cards and proceeded to initiate an impressive series of drinking games. As the night wore on, another pair of Danish girls somehow found the table, and I was starting to wonder if they let men out of that country.
Moments in nights like that have a beautiful way of snapping together like puzzle pieces. Between games I did my best to respect the Danish majority by pathetically attempting to pronounce bits of the language. The word for "red" granted my greatest challenge; it sounds like rouuuuuu yet requires you to curl and project your tongue in a way I could never describe to you, much less imitate. I managed the word for cheers well enough though, if only because it's the same word as a brand of chewing tobacco in the US. Skoal!
The bar shut down, and as if we were being ushered to our seats, we found our way down the road to an island bar in the river next to Vang Vieng. This alone was amazing if only because it involved crossing what I think is the lone surviving bridge in that town. We were up late into the night, and eventually I reached a point where I just nodded off from sheer exhaustion after two days of paddling.
And in one of those moments that make me laugh out loud while I transcribe in an Internet cafe, I woke up the next morning to a cloudy sunrise, flowing river, bamboo-mat particles in my hair, and a Danish girl besides me whose name I couldn't pronounce. She and I had remained through the night; I was told that the rest were scared off by someone's tendency to sleep with their eyes open. It was innocent, and simply beautiful.
==== Muddy waters ====
The next morning (well, afternoon), I pealed out on my own in search of a cave recommended to me by some friends I met in China. I understood it to be about 6km out of town, which would make for a nice walk before the climb.
Approaching the cave was a little more difficult that expected. It involved finding a water ferry of sorts to power me perpendicular to the swift current of Vang Vieng's bridgeless river, a subsequent tractor-trailer-Asian-contraption ride down a long rocky road, and an additional walk through 2km of standing water.
Not like pools of water. Not a little floodin'. But with the Biblical nightly rains had come gushing rivers of overflow between the rice paddies lining the road to the cave. Some were over knee deep, and rice paddy water is not the most fun to tread.
But it was worth it. For a reasonable entrance fee I was pointed in the direction of a steep rock scramble up the side of a karst formation. It was everything I want in cave, and nothing I could ever find in China, or the US for that matter. I had it to myself, completely devoid of tourists, handrails, and electrical lighting. Someone had placed a reclining Buddha statue inside, but otherwise the cave was left in it's natural form.
Holding my mini-mag flashlight between my teeth, I descended further inside. The cave's impressive cavernous opening gave way to city of dimly lit stalagmites.
==== Ready for some football? ====
I left the next morning for Vientiane. Vang Vieng, in all of it's strange beauty could hold any traveler for weeks. But I was looking forward to Thailand and beyond.
I arrived a little after midday, and having settled in and dropped off the other-worldly laundry that was eating through the bottom of my backpack, explored the city.
My first stop was Pataxi, or Vientiane's Arc de Triomphe. The impressive structure was made more intriguing by the herds of spandex wearing Laotians that dropped right out of the 80s to jog around the site for their evening exercise.
A few kilometers away was the most sacred monument in Laos, Pha That Luang. The gold-painted site was sadly closed that evening and through the next day. Despite not being able to enter, I wandered around and again found an inspiring crowd of soccer players, father-and-son badminton matches, and young girls pulling kites behind their training-wheeled bicycles. It made me miss everyday life in the city.
But it was behind Pha That Luang that real sportsmen came to play. Laotian men with hefty guts and admirable athletic builds alike had gathered at what looked like a concrete volleyball court, pulling out wads of kip to place bets.
They played a game similar to volleyball, except that you can only use your feet and head to contact the small bamboo ball. The restrictions made for some amazing moves though. One guy who was clearly the most talented of the bunch would set himself up by kicking the ball vertically in the air, and then proceed to do a backflip allowing him to spike the ball over the net with his foot while catching himself on the ground with one hand!
Almost as impressive as racquetball.
In general the city was a startling change of pace from the rest of the country. With consistently paved roads, French cafes, and Frenchmen -- often aid workers -- to fill them, I felt like I had already crossed the border.
==== The Secret War ====
My stay also included a stop at the otherwise empty Lao National Museum, formerly the Lao Revolutionary Museum. The most interesting part, and what I came for, were the exhibits on Lao's recent history and struggle for independence.
Beginning with exhibits that omitted some interesting facts, you could see photos of the "Japanese Fascists surrendering unconditionally to the Anti-Fascist alliance on the Warship Missouri." No mention of any US involvement, much less who's ship was in that picture. This was similar to subsequent shots featuring the "Unconditional surrender of the German Fascists to the Soviet Red Army."
But America was not to go without mention. Rooms soon filled with M-16s and other familiar American weaponry held down by nails and staples. Associated with each weapon and picture was an identified country whose official name might as well have been the United States of American Imperialists, according to this museum.
"Weapons brought by American Imperialists to kill the Lao people"
"Weapons imported by the American Imperialists for their puppets."
"American Imperialists actively suppress and threaten the people who are patriotic to their homeland."
"People in the Liberated Zone protest the American Imperialists."
"American Imperialists expand their Special War."
With pictures of Napalm victims, bombed temples and hospitals, and an impressive array of weaponry, I felt like I had been taken back to the American War Crimes museum in Saigon.
What this is referring to though is a time that I believe most Americans are only remotely familiar with: The Secret War. The information I gathered is from many different sources, perhaps none of them purely accurate, so I hope you'll take this summary accordingly. It's not quality research, but what I gathered from a few books and internet sites I was able to find on the subject.
This war dates back to JFK's domino theory, and the belief that America could let no more countries fall to Communism. Thus, 1964-1973 saw the most expensive paramilitary campaign ever waged by the US. US forces worked secretly, in order to circumvent obvious violation of the Geneva Accords, with the Thai and Lao Hmong in support of the Royal Government's battle against the more illegally invasive Communist North Vietnamese and the Pathet Lao.
Unlike in Vietnam, there were no Rules of Engagement limiting bombing within a specified distance of a temple or hospital. Pilots flying missions over Vietnam were ordered to not return to base without emptying their payload, and if they couldn't safely release their bombs over Vietnam without violating the ROEs, they would cross the border over Lao and drop their ordinances there. One pilot was quoted as saying that if their planes were running low on fuel, they would fly over Laos and drop all their bombs in one pass.
As LBJ halted the bombing of North Vietnam in 1968, there was even more air power available to direct at the Communist forces in Laos. In 1970, Nixon authorized massive air strikes in the country. In the end, Laos saw 1.5 times the air sorties flown in Vietnam. According to the Lonely Planet guidebook, 1 planeload of bombs was dropped every eight minuets for 24 hours a day, seven days a week, for nine years, at a taxpayer cost of 2 million dollars per day.
It's important to note that the North Vietnamese were far more straightforward in their violation of the Geneva Convention, providing direct, uniformed, obvious military involvement that the US-Thai-Hmong forces were trying to combat.
The North Vietnamese and their puppets overwhelmed the Lao forces, or the Lao forces liberated the country by ousting the American Imperialists and their puppets, depending on how you look at it. This is all very interesting to me, espcially in light of a man I met while traveling who was born in Lao but fled with his family to a Western country when the Communists took over. He's now a diplomat, and told me that the Lao government is a Vietnamese puppet, though few realize it.
In hindsight I see how this played into my travels. As we passed from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng down Route 13, we couldn't help but notice that our bus driver's assistant always carried an AK-47 on his shoulder. Most every man we passed on that road carried an automatic rifle as well. Apparently this stretch through mountaineous, rebel-housing terrain, is still a bit sketchy as the government has been unable to supress the Hmong insurgency that still remains. I was experiencing just one of many ways that this country still remains in flux.
==== Friendship ====
I awoke early the next day to head down the street and eat from a sticky rice and grilled meats vendor. This was the cheapest meal I could find, and while sticky rice was nothing new, it did the job.
However, the sticky rice lady was no where to be found, and I was a bit distraught, left surrounded only by fine french bakeries serving authentic pasteries -- but for higher prices. I sucked it up and went in one. I had to eat!
And what a damn fine pastry it was! I really should do this more often I concluded, as I dropped about 80 cents for what would have easily cost 5 times that in the States. It was a delicious little thing I couldn't pronounce, and sitting inside the airy garden surrounded by Frenchmen (yes, there are lots of them in that town), I felt a bit transported from the tuk-tuk laden streats to great me outside.
I then went off to swap most of my remaining Lao Kip for Thai Baht, as Kip can be hard to use in Laos itself, much less across the river. It was nice to switch back to the stronger currency. In Laos, the largest note is 20,000 Kip, which is less than $2 and is relatively new in circulation. Many banks only have the 10,000 Kip notes, equivalent to a little under $1. What this means is that if you cash a $100 US travelere's cheque, you end up with a stack of bills two inches thick! Impressive to fan yourself with, but hard to walk around town while carrying without feeling like you have a mugger's bulleseye painted on your pockets.
After the swap, I took my remaining Kip and bargained some guy down to 5,000 to take me to the bus station on the back of his motorbike, which didn't stay running for more than a minute at a time. From there I initiated what was hands down the most eerily easy border crossing ever. I felt like I was cheating.
The Thai-Lao International bus whisked me Southeast of Vientiane to the Friendship Bridge that crosses the Mekong. The bus stopped on the Lao side, and everyone got off to clear customs. I whinced and felt a bit of guilt as the Lao authority figure thrust a big ugly USED stamp into the face of my beautiful Lao visa. I was leaving with half of my allotted time in the country unused.
We boarded the bus, it drove us to the other side of the bridge, and again we exited to clear the blissfully easy, visa-free Thai immigration. They stamped my entry next to the same spot where my initial Thai departure had been noted, over three long months ago, during what feels like another lifetime.
And again we piled into our A/C bus and headed the rest of the way to Nong Khai, the nearby border town.
I wanted to ease into Thailand, not just jumping on a sleeper train to Bangkok as so many do. I had decided to check out Nong Khai a few days ago, but was regretting that decision as the clean yet blandly concrete town greeted me. I stuck with it though, and walked a kilometer or two from the bus station in search of the Mut Mee Guesthouse.
Very hot, quite tired, and with aching shoulders from a poorly balanced bag on my back, I found a revitalizing refuge in the alley leading up to the Mut Mee. Quickly the loud streets disappeared, and as I passed book shops and sweet-smelling, flowering trees, I came closer to the shore of the Mekong and onto the Mut Mee's patio.
There was a beautiful breeze coming onto the patio from the swift moving river, a sign of the rainy season's end I was told. I looked around the polished wooden chairs and shaded surroundings to find the Mekong greeting me through the trees, as if framed in the boundaries of a window.
Petra, a wild and overwhelmingly friendly German greeted me to check in. It's always nice to have Western-run or staffed guesthouses, even if it does feel like cheating. She found a clean dorm bed for me, and I quickly dropped my bags and cleaned up a bit, intent on running into town for some food.
But the patio grabbed me and wouldn't let go, as I got to know Petra, another middle-aged Australian woman, and a Lao businessman from Wales. I suffered through the higher guesthouse priced menu and ate there, enjoying a truly pleasurable afternoon and a very embracing welcome to Thailand.
The afternoon passed quickly as I got to know everyone. The Mut Mee Guesthouse ranks up there with Mama Naxi's in China as one of the nicest places I've ever stayed. The beautiful riverfront communal area was an irresistable gathering place.
Soon I saw another girl walk up to the table and join our group without a moment's hesistation. Introducing herself as Selena, she told me that she was from British Columbia originally, but had been teaching English and living overseas for the past several years. Finding a well paying job in Taiwan, as many foreigners do, she saved enough money to continue travelling. She hadn't seen home in years.
Selena is in her late 20s, but her big eyes and wide, bright smile convey a youthful energy that betrays her age. She is the first traveler I've met to share my situation, lacking both a general date and a return ticket to go home. I felt we had a lot in common, and was enjoying the conversation. But more important tasks were at hand.
From the moment I had stepped off my bus in Thailand earlier that day, I swear to you I could literally smell the mouth watering street food passing over me in waves. I had missed it for so long! My first time in Thailand I had no idea just how good (and very cheap!) it was, and in hindsight regretted not appreciating it like I should! It was nice to eat lunch at the Mut Mee and meet so many people, but I wanted to hit the nightly street stalls
Everyone was going out for a big dinner later that night, to which I was invited. It wasn't for an hour and a half though, and I was starved. I told them I'd eat my pre-dinner on the street, and join them at the restaurant.
Selena had declined my initial invitation along with the rest of the group that thought it strange to eat dinner before eating dinner. I didn't mind, but as I was about to head out she caught up with me and asked to join in the cheap streetside consumption. Smart woman!
I always enjoy the company of those who appreciate the finer things in life. As we dined over noodles and pork balls, I asked her what she thought of my idea to return home for Christmas. She was strickly opposed, making the valid point that what's one full year -- or even two -- away from your family in a lifetime? It's very true that for budget travelers, a return home is an immediate financial loss of what would otherwise be months on the road. When you're on a finite budget, that can mean a lot.
Selena though is in a more unique situation; the only person of her family that she speaks to is her mother. I can see how some would envy her -- essentially she was free of all geographic binds for her entire life. But I had to relate to her that although it's a trade off, there's something wonderful about a family, even if they do bind you to "home" in such a way. No matter what, no matter how badly I mess up or what I do, it's comforting to know that I have a family that will always be there for me (well, let's hope!). It's something you can't be gauranteed with friends or even lovers, and I feel both happy and lucky to accept the sacrifice necessary to embrace it.
We continued our meal, had a few more snacks, and soon realized that we had long overshot our meeting time with the rest of the group. After lots of wandering around town looking for the restaurant we thought they'd be at, we caught them walking down one of the side streets. The Welsh businessman had been in Nong Khai enough to know the town pretty well, and bragged about a few quality live music venues nearby. I really couldn't beleive it, but was happy to check it out.
We were also joined by Karen, a British girl living in a town outside of Nong Khai, where I believe she teaches sustainable environmentalism. She was friends with Petra, and greeted the group with a bottle of Sang Som Thai whisky, which she brought into the bar! Got to love the Brits.
I didn't realize this until afterwards, but it's perfectly respectable to let the bar serve you overpriced cokes and ice, while you bring in your own poison. Here's to the Thais.
Our first bar wasn't too bad, but not too good either. We checked out another that had a similar decent yet lackluster vibe. Still, I was just surprised that a border town had any nightlife to offer.
It was then that we headed to the Bar-Nana. I thought that was just their accents talking until I saw the sign. The Bar-Nana resides in the basement of a hotel, but you can hear it coming from the street. With speakers cranked up painfully loud, a non-stop show of Thai 50 Cent impersonators jumped around on the stage. They mixed and performed choreographed dance with painfully skanky looking women, and I do recall one moment where a large Thai man came out on stage in a wedding dress to sing the slow number.
It was delightfully tacky, I think. We stuffed our ears with toilet paper and stayed late into the night.
==== The Wheel of Life ====
The next day Selena and I had made plans to visit the town's main attraction, Salakaewkoo. Before bicycling out there though, I had some breakfast/lunch to eat. We walked into town and found some quality fish noodle soup.
We sat on opposite sides of a table that abutted an open window between us. The sunshine poured onto the table while leaving us in the shade, and highlighted our food as if it were sent from above with a choir of angels.
We had a warm, enjoyable conversation that seemed almost uncanny considering the subject. For you see, I've concluded that Selena is the worst nightmare of every drug awareness campaign ever conceived.
She asked me if I tried opium when I was in Laos, to which I replied no. It's a perfectly reasonable question, as lots of people do. Some come to Laos just for that. But, as I explained to her, I don't think drug tourism or even rare experimentation with opium is healthy for the country, or yourself.
"I really like trying new drugs," she told me in such a nonchalant way that she just as well could have been saying "I really like chocolate." It was fascinating how this beautiful, young, and happy girl spoke with such enviable enthusiasm. I've had similar converstaions before -- both abroad and in the US -- but none with such a glowing warmth as Selena brought to the idea of experimentation.
Post-meal we picked out our bicycles and headed East in the direction of Salakaewkoo. It was a great ride, pushing between crowds as we pedaled through the market and eventually onto a riverfront street greeting several Wats and attractive restaurants.
Salakaewkoo is a sculpture park built by a Laotion artist and mystic, Boun Leua Sourirat. He first built the similar Buddha Park across the river in Laos, but fled to Thailand with the Communist takeover in 1975. It was here that he perfected his talent and built this park of enermous Buddhist and Hindu imagery, allegedly inspired by a spirtual teacher he met by falling through a hole in the ground and landing on his lap.
An eight-story seated Buddha welcomes you to the park, along with a beautiful garden of surprsingly untacky, enermous religious images. The Wheel of Life, in the center, depicts everyone's life cycle. Visitors can walk through it by first entering the Jaws of Life, holding you as the sperm at your moment of conception. What you pass through represents the penis and then the vagina as you enter the circle. Moving clockwise, you stroll through the cycle of life, featuring your six sense (the sixth is Heart) as they apply to various stages. At the end, with death, you can follow Buddha to Nirvana and exit the repitious pain of further lives, or start the cylce all over again.
It was well done. The park just grabbed me as being far more admirable and less cheesy than I expected. Everything was done in concrete, simply because it was the cheapest material available. This provided a striking juxtaposition between modern building materials and ancient beliefs and traditional artistic representations. I loved it.
After our visit I helped Selena find her way back to the guesthouse by bicycle, and then ran off on my own for what I thought would be a quick trip to the train station to get my ticket for the next day. I had told Selena that I'd meet her back at 5:30 for a sunset boat cruise offered near the guesthouse (giggidy). Unfortnately, reaching the train station turned out to require not only a trip to the far edge of town, but a further pedal some 2-3km on from there. With only half an hour to get there, buy the ticket, ride back, and shower, I huffed my way along at high speed, realizing that perhaps I should lay off the wontons.
I made it, but alas, the cruise was cancelled by the high winds that had been pushing me backwards as I was on the bike. A little bummed, we took the advice of fellow Mut Mee-ers and went to a Mexican Restaurant. Yes, that's right. A Nong Khai Mexican eatery.
I was awfully skeptical as I entered the aptly named Jose's. But for months I had avoided such an experience in my Tex-Mex snobbery, and concluded it was time for a gamble of sorts.
It paid off. Jose is from Puerto Rico, and is the only guy working in his small restaurant. He speaks like a Texan. A low, heavy, and laid back voice interspersed with lots of ya'lls told us what we should eat. We even splurged a bit and loaded up on chips and salsa before our enchilada feast.
And I had to say that Jose's a mighty fine chef! "Cook! I'm a cook!" he said in reply. Fair enough. It was simple but good Tex-Mex fare, and it of course was fun to find out just how some guy from Puerto Rico winds around the world and ends up with a Mexican restaurant on the Thai-Lao border.
Later that night Selena and I went to 7-11, whose availability is another welcoming gift granted unto me with my return to Thailand. You can judge the size of any Thai town by the number of 7-11s it has. We proceeded to buy one imported chocolate bar, as Asian chocolate often tastes like you're eating a candle. In addition we acquired two containers of coconut ice cream.
Taking our loot to the nearest Roti vendor, we put in our order for the time-honored backpacker standby: banana pancakes. These are different than the pancakes that you might think of, in that the dough only serves to hold the bananas loosely inside. Once fried up, it's a mighty good treat. Selena was hesistant to complete our idea, but I just asked the kind Muslim woman flipping the dough if I could add the chocolate to our bananas. She approved.
And as we sat down to eat our banana-egg-chocolate-pancake, piling ice cream on top of the still-warm dessert, we had to stop and take pictures to commemorate our brilliance. I don't know if other people could appreciate just how proud we were. "Who's idea was this?" I asked. "Mine of course!" she said. I couldn't stop eating long enough to insist anything to the contrary.
==== Hello! ====
Selena left for Laos early the next morning, and I had to prepare for my night train to Ayutthaya. I spent the majority of the day helplessly trapped in the beauty of the riverfront chairs, making off the wall conversation with Petra and stirring only in failed attempts to do something productive. A wonderful older New Zealand woman -- who had an unrestrained enthusiam for going after mosquitoes with one of those electrified tennis racquet contraptions common in Asia -- gave me a solid recommendation for a dentist to see in Bangkok. I also managed to rook a younger New Zealand girl into accompanying me for an excellent dinner of Vietnamese spring rolls that you (try to) prepare yourself at the table. The breezy riverfront views and abundance of cool restaurants made it hard to leave this town.
But I still managed the energy to tuk-tuk up to the train station that evening. As I approached the open window of my train car I spotted inside none other than Richard and Rebecca, the couple I first met in Huay Xai. I don't know why it still surprises me to run into people like that.
We had a good ride up that night, and I got off the train early, arriving in Ayutthaya -- north of Bangkok -- around 5:45am. I was a little hesitant to stop here, but wanted to check out the town and couldn't see any reason not to make the convenient layover for a night.
Dropping my bags off at a guesthoue that I could check into later that day, I followed the owner's advice and bicycled out to the site of one of the ruins before they opened (read: started charging admission) at 8am. She didn't tell me that entering the ruins without paying would necessitate jumping a barbed wire fence, but I guess she could tell by my bargaining skills on the room price that I wouldn't mind.
And sneaking around that first site, avoiding the guard, I had another Indiana Jones moment as I went deep into the crypt of the main chamber, again using a mini-mag flashlight held between my teeth to guide me. In the otherwise dark, small room at the bottom of the stairs/slide were four walls and a ceiling still retaining images from what I think are 15th Century murals. Very cool.
I had explored the calm park housing the ruins at Sukothai with Colin some four months ago, and witnessing the temples surrounded by busy streets in Ayutthaya was a very different experience. Both hold impressive ruins, but avoiding the speeding tuk-tuks and busloads of tourists on day trips from Bangkok made for a little more hair-raising experience.
I did see some beautiful sights though, including a very cool spot where a tree had wrapped it's roots around the head of a Buddha image, allowing you to witness the impact of centuries of time now passed. There was also a wonderful, clean, and modern -- if completely empty -- museum and tourist center that reminded me of just how different it is to be a tourist in Thailand than elsewhere.
My wandering continued, and as I approached a pavilion effectively in the middle of nowhere, looking for some shade, I ascended the stairs to find another guy already seated, leaning against one of the columns.
"Hello!" he said with a friendly wave. It was as if he had been waiting for me there. And in one of those ways unique to independent travel, it felt like I was greeting my next few days as we shook hands.
John introduced himself as a 28-year-old former engineer from the German part of Switzerland, having travelled for months through India and Nepal. We had a bond in that neither of us thought anyone else would be crazy enough to walk around in the middle of the day, especially this far from the main sites. It's good to know I'm not alone.
He was an odd compliment to the sentiments expressed to me by Selena not only a few days ago. He was homesick, and even though he already had his flight and visas arranged for onward travel to Myanmar and Laos, he seemed to be seriously considering dropping it all to buy a ticket back to Switzerland. I told him I was a little homesick too, but after all, I was from Texas. What was his excuse?
After a rest in the shade, we grabbed some street-side lunch and walked back to where I rented my bike. Ayutthaya sits in a delta, with the main city resting on an island encircled by four major rivers. While, unlike many places in Laos, there was no need to ferry or even wade across the rivers, the few bridges required you to take a route covering a fair amount of distance to see the main sites in and around town. With our bikes ready, we set out to do just that.
The most impressive ruins were at Wat Chaiwatthanarm. Built in the Khmer style resembling Angkor Wat, the beautiful and well-preserved ruins were perhaps the best in the city. We walked around for a while, and then sat and had a long and interesting conversation about Buddhism and how it applies to collectivism and selfishness. For someone who had five hours of sleep on a train the night before, I was having a hell of a day.
We cycled further on the mainland, finding St. Joseph's Cathedral and school before we backtracked to our bridge for the city. From there John wanted to take a break and use the Internet, while I kept pedaling across another heavily-trafficed bridge on the way to Bangkok that took me by the impressive Wat Yai Chaiyamongkhon.
We met back up in a couple hours to hit the night market. Now this was dangerous. John here loved trying new food, and was certain he could eat me under the table. Au contraire. We proceeded to have Pad Thai, a fried fish and sprouts dish, meat skewers, crab cakes, pork and rice, cakes and muffins, red curry with chicken and noodles, and fresh strawberry shakes, in that order. I asked him if he was up for another round, to which he declined. I think he was done by the cakes and muffins.
But that's exactly what I'd been missing about Thailand -- markets where you can try an infinite amount of dishes for no more than 50 cents each. It was definitely a splurge night, but the total only came out to a few dollars, and believe me I was happy. I told John that hanging out with heavy drinkers or drug users had no negative affects on me, but someone who liked to eat this much could get me into a lot of trouble!
Ayutthaya really was a nice town, and I decided to stay an extra day. My guesthouse was very nice, if almost twice as expensive as I'd normally pay. However, all the dorms I had looked for were full, and I accepted the gift to myself of a clean and quiet room, even having a bathroom all to myself, for two nights. Plus the woman who ran the place was kind, if a bit funny. A dedicated businesswoman, she found me on the couch one night to tell me with excitement that she had received a good review in the 2005 Lonely Planet. She was really beaming. It's amazing to think how many people in the tourist industry must live and die by that book.
With the extra day of course came another deul at the night market with John. Again, John was striking in how much he contrasted with Selena. He is the first traveler I've met to come to Southeast Asia to *stop* doing drugs. In his case, he had a good job, plenty of money, and even more connections in Zurich, fueling a high-powered nightlife that many of us could only imagine. I was a bit impressed by his about face; he hadn't used drugs in months, even gave up smoking, and rarely touched alcohol anymore.
As we walked towards the market he told me that his next step was to give up the need to eat so much food. Then he'd be free of every undesirable dependence. I told him that he was taking it too far.
We walked around eating fried whoknowswhat from various vendors. He too held a similar belief that if it's cooked that heavily, it can't be too bad. And after a subsequent few rounds of noodles and soups, he made the suggestion that we go to Swensens. This was exactly what I feared!
Swensens is based in San Francisco, though I've never heard of it before Thailand. In case you haven't either, it's a hardcore ice cream lover's paradise. It's certainly a splurge as nothing was under a few dollars in price, but after all, you only live once. And then perhaps you die after eating a gallon of Turkish Coffee ice cream.
Holding our stomachs in our hands, we walked away from Swensens with plans to meet tomorrow at the train station for the two hour journey to Bangkok.
==== A beer ====
As the train pushed into Bangkok, bypassing Don Muang Internationl Airport, I felt a heavy wave of nostalgia. I saw the exact spot where four months ago Colin and I ran after one of these trains as it pulled away, jumping on to the moving train only to find out it was the wrong one. There was a definite sense of returning to something. I'm not sure if I'd call it a home base though, or if the feeling of returning to Bangkok was even positive for that matter.
But unlike the overwhelming city that greeted me with a shove upon my first visit, everything snaped together beautifully as John and I stepped off the train into Hualamphong Station. I knew where I wanted to go, and what I wanted to do. John and I hoped on a bus right outside the train station that took us directly to Khao San Road. We quickly settled into a fan room -- acceptably comfortable this time of year, as opposed to the 110+ degree temperatures that fried me my first time in Bangkok.
We returned to the long lost Pad Thai vendors on the street, and for 20 Baht each watched them whip up a fresh dish in minutes. The Pad Thai around Khao San is a bit different from what you get elsewhere. I'm not sure what they put in the oil here, but it's addictive.
I had been sure to arrive in Bangkok on the weekend, as I wanted to take advantage of the massive Chatachuk weekend market. This maze of vendors sells most everything you could imagine in over 9,000 stalls, housing what I hoped would be some quality gifts to warrant a package back to the US.
John wanted to try something he had done successfully in India: bargaining with the tuk-tuk drivers to get a ride for free, in exchange for visiting a shop. The tuk-tuk drivers are a bit of a necessary evil, and yes, they're always trying to get you to go to a shop because they get a commission for bringing you there. I didn't know how much the commission was, but John and I offered a driver 40 baht and ten minutes of our time at one shop in exchange for a relatively long ride out to Chatachuk. The guy jumped on it! Immediately! I had never seen a tuk-tuk driver agree that quickly. I realized we could have bargained a better deal!
The stop was a relatively painless ten minutes at a jewlrey store, which probably had fair deals when compared to the west. We took their card, got back in our tuk-tuk, and asked the guy how much commission he got. 100 baht per head! Later that day, after a fun time stuffing ourselves with food yet unfortunately not finding the gifts I sought, we bargained another tuk-tuk driver to take us back -- for free! But of course, after visiting one shop. Not a bad deal!
We even felt good about it -- after all, everybody wins. We get a ride cheaper than public transport, the tuk-tuk driver gets more money than we would have paid otherwise, and the shops get potential customers in their stores. We're such nice guys.
After our good deeds with the tuk-tuk drivers, we met up with a married couple from Germany that John had met while traveling in Nepal. The guy was German, and his wife Norweigen. She has a job with a cooking magazine similar to Martha Stewart Living in Hamburg; essentially her job consists of coming up with new recipes, cooking food, and then eating it. "Tell me more," I asked.
We had a good dinner that night. Afterwards John said he could go for a beer tonight. We were game, and joined him at the cheapest spot we could find near Khao San.
As we sat on plastic chairs in the trip-hop bar / CD store, I saw why John has been pushing away from alcohol. It was a fun night, and I outlasted the German couple as the Leo and Chang beers rained down upon us. But they called it an evening around 1, and I was inclined to do so come 3. I let John into our cheap, prison-cell like hotel room the next morning, right around 7am.
That day I checked into another hotel without concrete floors that even had windows in their rooms. Again, a strange traveler's evolution as this cost me 50 cents more per night. I woke John up as his flight to Myanmar was that afternoon. I recognized a restaurant near Khao San by the short, friendly Thai woman who worked there, and herded John in it's direction for a quality lunch. He then went off to get US dollars to take into Myanmar, as there's no other way to get money there outside of using or exchanging US dollars. I had work to do in Bangkok, and we parted ways.
=== Salud ====
My past few days in Bangkok have been a bit of a blur. Not necessarily in a good way.
I kept in touch with the German couple, and they told me stories of driving around Mongolia by Jeep on their way from Moscow to Bejing via the Trans-Siberian Railway. Okay, I'll say that's impressive.
I also met a few other people casually, often over the incessant Pad Thais, fresh fruits, and fresh squeezed orange juices I've spoiled myself with in my time here. It's amazing how differently I'm living now than my first time in Bangkok. I wonder though if it's to help me get through all the assigments I've given myself.
Primary among them was shopping. Which in case you didn't know, is not my favorite activity. I was in the market for certain gifts, but essentially found that they'd either be too hard to ship back or were unavilable. This is also a bummer because I have a couple more gifts in my pack I was hoping to unload in another large package to the US.
Having crossed that failed task off my list, I moved to a new topic. I sit in the all too common situation of being an American citizen without access to healthcare. Yes, I have catastrophic coverage, which is a must. But unlike most of the Europeans I meet who enjoy everything from free or discounted doctors visits to vaccines, I can't expect the same when I return. It concerns me.
So first I saw a dentist -- it had been over 10 months since my last visit. This was the office recommended to me by the electricfied-tennis-racquet wielding old New Zealand lady. It had to be good.
And it was. The dentist's office was in a multi-story, modern building all dedicated to some form of dentistry. Everything was impeccably clean, and as I sat down for my cleaning I realized that this was the most impressive dental office I'd ever seen.
And Dr. Pakpong didn't let me down either. Speaking good English and brandishing a small camera to show me on the nearby flatscreen monitor what my teeth looked like up close, I got a pictorial story of the cavaties in my mouth.
Honestly, I don't think I would have believed some Khao San dentist if they had told me I had cavaties. I almost didn't believe him. But with the pictures of each cavity on the monitor, as if dubious foreigners are a common problem in their office, I concluded that either he's right or he deserves the money anyway for the most thorough scam ever. I had them filled; he did an excellent job. All this cost a fraction of what it would in the US without insurance, but much more than if I had such. I got the bill, went to an ATM, and cried only a bit.
By the way, if you're curious http://www.thantakit.com/
I do, some day, hope to go to South America and thought that while I was in Bangkok, I could take advantage of the cheap vaccinations to prepare me for the road ahead. Many countries actually require a Yellow Fever vaccination for entry if you've been to a Yellow Fever endemic area in the past. This includes Africa and a good deal of South America.
So after being pointed around to different offices throughout the city, I found my way to the Thailand Immigration Office: home of the elusive Yellow Fever vaccine.
The nurse there happily took my Yellow Card (international proof that you ain't sickly), and stamped the necessary information to create a complete certificate. She then laughed as I watched her like a hawk to make sure I was getting sterile needles, which I most certainly was.
And for $13 dollars or so, it was done. Would have cost me $100 in the US easily.
It was so successful that I wanted to at least get a Polio booster while I was at it, mainly because Indonesia had a recent outbreak and the CDC suggested most travellers have one. For this I was on my way to Bumrungrad hospital, for no other reason than my guidebook listed this internationally accredited hosptial. Along the way though I met a couple foreigners living in the city who highly recommended Bangkok Nursing Home Hospital. It was nearby, and I stepped inside.
Everything about Bangkok Nursing Home Hospital is top notch, sans the name. Upon entering the stylish, beautifully laid out facility, I was shocked to be immediately greeted and offered assitance. I was asked to wait for only a moment. It was there that I met another guy from Houston. I hate to say it, but I could tell he was from Houston and not just Texas by the way he spoke and acted. Remember the Houstonians George meets on Seinfeld? I've only met a few Houstonians while travelling, but they're all just like that!
He informed me, as I should have guessed, that this was a Farang (Foreigner) hospital, and I'd pay accordingly. I got the price of the vaccine, and realized that it was about three times what I heard it to be elsewhere. But while I don't mind sleeping with cockroaches and using a hole in the ground for a toilet, I'll spend a little more when it comes to health care.
I was ushered along, each step of the way being greeted by someone saying hello or offering to help if I was seen alone for more than a minute. Really, it was such a peaceful, reassuring, and service-minded experience that I could only hope other hospitals will learn from them some day! I got the polio booster, and even saw another doctor while I was there about a different problem. Each step of the way, I was shown to the doctor or nurse immediately. I never waited for more than a few minutes. And when I got the bill with charges for everything from latex gloves to the air I breathed, I cried a bit more. But I knew I had made a good decision.
Again, if you're curious: http://www.bnhhospital.com/ I have no idea where they got the idea to put a picture of a goofy looking white boy on the home page.
==== Jiggity Jig ====
In between all of this health nonsense, I focused in on my last and perhaps most important task: going home. I do wish I had one more month between now and Christmas, as I think I'll have time to see Southern Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, and Indonesia in these next three months. But I do want to go to the Phillipines as well. Meeting up with the Phillipino girl I met on a Thai train a few months ago would be a great way to see the country. The Phillipines are beautiful I hear, and their tourist potential is wonderfully underexploited.
It really didn't take much convincing to go after the December ticket though. In the end, I do miss my family and friends, and in many ways travelling abroad has made me come to appreciate America that much more. After many walks between travel agencies trying to find the best price, I found that I could get the best deal by just returning to China Airlines, the company I flew in on. It's a little frustrating that I'm buying another one way ticket; essentially I took a gamble by not going round trip with my initial purchase, and lost. I thought that perhaps I would be whoknowswhere -- likely India -- by the end of these eight months, and committing myself to fly out of Bangkok would be foolish. But even though I'll likely be in Indonesia at that time, the airfare is so much cheaper from Bangkok that it warrants a trip back here from wherever I might be.
So on December 21st at 7:30pm, I'll be home. Well, actually I'll be at Houston Intercontinental Airport -- it offered the cheapest price. I'm sure I'll find some way back to Dallas from there though, even if I end up sticking my thumb in the air on the side of 45!
Tonight I leave for Ko Tao, and I'm happy to do this whole most-beautiful-beaches-in-the-world thing. But truthfully, I'm a bit more excited at the moment about sitting in my Grandmother's small East Dallas home, cramped in with the rest of my mother's family, to celebrate Christmas Eve and begin a few days of reunion with the rest of my family and friends. Seriously, I'm a terribly lucky man.
==== Priorities ====
Beyond my tasks, I've seen only one traditional Bangkok sight: the Jim Thompson house. I went mostly because I picked up a book in Laos about the story surrounding this American businessman. He founded the Thai silk industry, but disappeared mysteriously one day in the Cameron Highlands of Malaysia. The house was most impressive for it's architectural flare, constructed in the traditional Thai style and lined with a vast collection of Southeast Asian art.
Otherwise, I just consoled myself after the pain of spending hundreds of dollars on medical expenses and air tickets by living THE LIFE with street food. There's a delicious Indian place around the corner that serves beautiful roti, mataba, curry, younameit. Iced fresh fruit is available everywhere, along with the irresistable fresh-squeezed orange juice. The oranges they use are sweeter here (no really!) and it's so good. Of course they have the banana pancakes and Pad Thais I came for, not to mention egg rolls and kabobs fried and grilled to order. Okay, maybe my time in Bangkok hasn't been so bad after all!
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posted by JJ Merelo at 5:19 PM
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