This is going to be fun

This is going to be fun

From findken:

==== 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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