The Beautiful Unknown

2010-08-18T13:52:00.001-07:00

When I first moved into the condo on the 32nd floor overlooking Andheri West in Mumbai back in April, I noticed, when scanning the horizon on my first night, a golden temple glowing brightly in the distance.
Lit up like a beacon, it drew my eye every night as I sat on my window seat or out on the balcony. I wondered where it was exactly and which god was worshipped there? It stood on the northern most horizon, on a hill far above Andheri West and on the other side of the marshlands. During the day it was still pretty impressive, albeit hard to see due to the smog. At night, when it was lit up, it looked a bit like the golden Wat Phra Kheo in Bangkok.
Weeks went by and I could not figure out what it was. I searched “golden temple” in Northern Mumbai and found nothing. I looked at google maps but any indication of a temple in the area I thought it was located was clearly not big enough — if I could see it from who knows how many miles away it had to be huge.
Then, on one of my last nights in town, I finally remembered to ask my roommate if she knew what it was. I had asked her weeks previously during a social gathering we had had on the balcony with a bunch of girlfriends and a bunch of bottles of wine and thought I had remembered she made a vague comment that it was some sort of water temple. I remember thinking that was interesting because the way it was lit up at night, it looked like it was on fire. I decided to ask again because I was thinking about making a trek out there but since I cannot tell if it’s exceptionally huge and far away or if it is closer than it looks, I don’t want to just blindly get into a rickshaw. Again, we were sitting out on the balcony with Pinky, Harvashi and Joey, drinking wine, and Sonia replies, “Oh.. it’s a water park.”
“It’s a water PARK?” I splutter.
“Yeah. You know, we should all go out there this weekend. It’s been so hot.” The other girls and Joey agree and start to formulate plans but I’m still stuck…
“It’s a WATER PARK?”
“Yes.”
“Like an amusement park… but with water?” NO. It can’t be.
Sonia looks confused over my tone, “Yes.”
I was crushed. I must have gazed out over Mumbai towards this glorious golden monument every night for 2 months, wondering what must go on there — did worshippers walk there overnight, in barefeet, as they do to the Siddhivinayak Temple in Bandra? Do they leave offerings, ring bells? Or perhaps it’s a Buddhist temple? And, most importantly, are there temple monkeys? I had really wanted to go out there but couldn’t figure out where it was on the ridiculous hundred page book of maps of Mumbai that I had been given. So I didn’t go and it sat there calling to me every night… and it turned out to be a freakin’ water park???

2010-06-30T14:07:00.000-07:00

Home Office - Andheri West, Mumbai, India

My Sunday.

2010-05-31T02:02:00.000-07:00

It's Memorial Day weekend and while I have no BBQs or binge-drinking to take part in, it's still been an interesting weekend, particularly yesterday. I had the second day on a shoot I was observing, being shot by Ravi Chandran's former assistant Bose, who recently shot "Kites."

First off, I couldn't find a rickshaw driver who knew where Film City was (despite having no problem the first three times I went out there). Finally found one who nodded and I got in but about 5 minutes later, he veered off in the wrong direction. "Bas! Bas!" (enough! stop! or something to that effect) I yell. He gets out of the rickshaw and comes back with another man who asks me where I want to go. "Film City, " I say. The man turns to the driver and says, "Film City" in English. "Ah!" says the driver, head-bobbling furiously. "Enjoy your time in Film City!" the man says to me as we do a wicked u-turn and head off in the correct direction. Of course.

At just about every light, the driver turns to me to carry on a conversation entirely in Hindi even though I plainly don't speak it. I think at one point he was telling me I needed water. I think he thought I was going hiking, due to my camera backpack and the fact that Film City is based inside a state park (I saw monkeys there 2 days ago! I filmed them! Unfortunately, I also managed to accidentally film some blase monkey sex before I realized what was going on). At the third light, a little street girl pops up next to me. She's maybe 7 years old, in dire need of clean clothes and a bath. She asks me for money. You're not supposed to give money to children (or able-bodied adults) but guidebooks do say it's okay to give to the elderly and disabled because there's no real welfare system taking care of them here.* So I shake my head and turn away and as I do so, she reaches into the rickshaw.... and honks my boob. Sorry, but that's the only way I can put what she did. "HEY!" I yelled and tried to swat her but she was already gone.

Off we go and as we get closer to Film City, my driver starts prattling on about the star trailer that's rumbling along in front of us. "Anil Kapoor! Anil Kapoor!" he says. Another rickshaw driver pulls along side of us, and they have, what I'm assuming is, an animated conversation about who might be in the star trailer. Right then, a motocyclist attempts to pass in front of the star trailer and across the other side of traffic and is creamed by an oncoming rickshaw. The motorcyclist is fine and stands up immediately. The rickshaw driver is also fine and faces the guy he just hit. They're clearly about to start screaming at each other, a spectacle for which all of traffic has stopped in eager anticipation. For the record, drama / rubbernecking is encouraged here. Traffic accidents are rarely calm events where you exchange numbers and get on with your life. No, first there's a lot of screaming and arm-waving and blame. Doesn't matter is one person was clearly in the wrong, they'll still get in on the screaming/ gesturing. A friend of mine told me about how his car was parked (and he wasn't inside) when he watched a young woman back right into it. He walks over to his car to inspect the damage while she gets out and proceeds to yell at him about how could he park there (it was his apartment parking space), how stupid etc etc. Anyway, the rickshaw driver and motorcyclist have squared off, tension is zinging between them, and every car/rickshaw driver, pedestrian and random bystander is waiting for the show to begin, when you can pretty much see the sudden realization cross the driver's face -- and he takes off in a sprint after his rickshaw WHICH IS STILL TRAVELING DOWN THE ROAD. Unfortunately, he doesn't get to it before it crashes into another rickshaw, but I don't think it was going particularly fast and no one was hurt. Everyone watched the scene for about a moment.... and then traffic just started moving again.

Got to the shoot at last. Not particularly thrilling and it was a short day. Afterward, I grabbed another rickshaw driver who couldn't stop talking about America -- but in particular Angelina Jolie. "Hot and sexy," he breathes. He's very young, cute and a little chubby with a mustache I'm sure he's quite proud of. He asks me if I like Angelina or Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise or Madonna. I tell him sure but I like Hrithik Roshan best. Oh, he LOOOOVES Hrithik apparently. Then he's asking me if I have a boyfriend (yes, I always have a boyfriend). We get back to my apartment building and as I'm digging in my purse for some money, he sees the People Magazine I've just bought with Hrithik on the cover. As I pull out the money (plus a small tip), he casually slides out the magazine from my lap to look at it, and casually places his hand on my knee underneath and squeezes. Cheeky little.... I swat his hand, hand him his money, and scold him, "Be good!" He smiles this little boy smile... and then asks me for 20 more rupees! Which is like fifty cents but since my 30 minute drive was a total of 2 bucks, that's a bit much.. and I tipped him already. Just then Sonia, my roommate rolled up in another rickshaw and walked over. "How's your day," she asked. "Fine, until this kid tried to rip me off," I said gesturing at my driver. Sonia asks him if he's trying to get more money out of me to which he just grins cheekily and denies it in a so-what-if-i-was? manner.

Commuter Trains

2010-05-22T11:15:00.000-07:00

And you thought your commute was bad.

This is a pretty accurate look at Mumbai commuter trains… and a great commercial that’s currently running. I’d like to take a local train but I’ve been warned off because of the pushing, the squishing and the fact that they really do hang out the doors and windows because they’re too crowded.

It’s the end of the commercial that’s so good — because despite all of the above, there really is this positivity and “we’re all in this together” feeling. I have seen little to no road-rage, pedestrian rage or any type of entitled “rage” that Westerners (or Americans at least) get from someone invading their space or holding them up in any way.

Here's an amateur video:

I gotta tell you though, Indians could use a lesson in “letting people off before boarding the train” — holy moly. It’s a battle — particularly trying to get off. People start shoving as soon as the train slows in the station - and people on the platform run along side the train to get on before it has stopped. You just have to push and shove and try not to take it personally… although I did witness a fight when exiting my train from Goa when a young man tried to shove past an old woman to get on and was neatly collared by a man who then proceeded to slap and shove him down the platform. The young man didn’t defend himself, merely looked like a bad dog, cowering as the slaps rained down.

Questions from your Mommy

2010-05-19T06:42:00.000-07:00

I haven't been writing much here because I feel like what I've been up to isn't very exciting. So perhaps I need to go through my emails between my mother and me and just post them. Here is today's:

Hi Mom,
Okay, here are the answers to the questions you asked in the last email:

You never said: did you have that gig for taking pictures? I am worried that you might need more money.
I don't know what is going on with the gig. The actor was all gung ho -- and then faded away. Last I heard, when I asked him what his schedule was for last week -- he wrote back, "Shooting" (meaning his soap opera). I wrote to his friend who'd set up the gig -- and he too hasn't written back. Everything is very hazy here and lackadaisical so it's hard to read people's intentions.

Money is okay at the moment though I may be cutting it close... I guess I won't be buying a lot of presents this round.

I am not planning on staying in India [ed: Mom is worried], but I do want to come back. As soon as possible. just need to have a more solid reason and plan this time. This trip was to meet people and make connections and find out if this was something I want to pursue. Three more weeks to see what happens...

how is the rash?
Clearing up. Still have red blotches on thighs, butt and tummy but not so itchy and not so angry looking. Sort of a vague sienna hue now. But still in the shapes of unknown countries and archipelagos.

Tell me about your day...what time you get up,
I usually get up around 8:30 or 9 depending on when I went to bed so around 11:00-midnight your time. I tend to go to bed late -- as you know I am a night owl anyway and night is much more bearable heat-wise. Plus my friends are online by then and we can chat.

what you do, where you go.
On Mondays I check in with my contacts who line up extra work during the week -- so far I've only heard from them when I was in Goa for my birthday... of course. I may or may not check in with Ravi (the cinematographer) and/or whomever he has put me in touch with. Usually someone has sent me someone's name to call. Sometimes I get on a random public bus and take it somewhere in the city so I can take pictures. Unfortunately Mumbai is so hectic and eerything kind of starts to look the same after a while. There's only so many pictures of decaying temples, dilapidated apartment buildings, men squatting in front of their various food/pan stands and stray dogs one can take. I generally confuse the bus conductor when he asks where I am going and I just point at the sign that says the last stop. It's usually about 25 cents a ride so it's a cheap way to see the city. I am stared at a lot. I go to Bandra where the rich people live to sit in the air-conditioned "Bagel Shop" and work on photos. Their bagels are very strange. I wander around. I mope that I've made a mistake with this trip but then I don't know many people who get the chance to run off to Bollywood, whether or not it works out. I work on a stupid screenplay. I sweat. I worry that I disappoint everyone in my life, including myself. I meet up with friends. I write in my notebook and wish I could actually "write" because then I'd try to write the anti-Eat Pray Love because God, that woman... I mean ugh. I worry that i have nothing really exciting to write about on my blog because who cares about any of the above.

Where do you buy groceries, and can you get Amurken food??
There are two grocery stores within walking distance. They have some Amurken food. Or as they would probably call it here: Am-rick-an food. I'm from Amrickah, you know. Sometimes I have to put on a fake Indian accent to get where I need to go. For instance, if I want to go to Carter Road, a typical rickshaw driver will have no idea what I am talking about. However, if speak with the back of my tongue and say khurdurh rrruhd, they can get me there. Yesterday I went to see the shooting of a camel seal. I was very excited when I talked to Gopal, the cinematographer my new friend Aaron put me in touch with, over the phone about the camel seal he was shooting... had no idea what a camel seal was but was pretty sure it was not a hybrid of a dromedary and furry marine animal. Apparently it is a "commercial."

do you get your water regularly now?
No problems with water in a couple of weeks now. It's not stopping during the day. Although just now I was trying to take a shower and apparently, "Showering!" in response to the maid wiggling the doorknob means "wiggle doorknob more vigorously and attempt to break in please thank you!"

Hrithik Hrithik everywhere....

2010-05-16T06:41:00.000-07:00

The publicity posters for "Kites" have gone up, as well as all the different billboards for various brands that are using Hrithik Roshan their poster boy. Mmmm-mmmm. So looking forward to the film...

And considering the two main stars don't speak each other's languages, here's hoping most of it is in English! (Please?)

2010-05-14T08:51:00.000-07:00

I wonder how many young men are injured in India each year because they insist on holding hands when crossing the street. This works when you are 4 years old, boys, and crossing at a crosswalk with Mom....not when you're 17 and trying to dodge oncoming rickshaws, red bull buses and Tata trucks because there's no stoplight. One guy will make a break for it while the other will hold back and both will nearly get squashed. I see this every day.

2010-04-20T02:52:00.000-07:00

After quickly changing into my new black top and high heels, I was ready for my first night out in Mumbai. Joey and I headed to Firangi Panna where he introduced me to his friends Pinky, Sita, Gautam, Sushant and Summer, who turns out to be an American from San Francisco. She and Sushant are recently married, both work for an internet ad company and she spends half her time in India. We immediately get to chatting and Sushant whines, "Oh no, are you going to be talking American stuff all night?" Turns out we are both HUGE Bollywood fans and when I ask her what her favorite movie is, she says, "Overall? I'd have to say 'Om Shanti Om'" to which I SQUEAL, we grab hands and run away from the group so our mutual 'squee-ing' over Shahrukh Khan is minimally embarrassing. We've only stepped away for a minute or two and two emissaries from the group (Joey and Sushant) come over to us separately to find out if everything is okay.

The club's lights come up at 1:30 and the group decides to go to China House, a pretty fancy club not too far away. But before we head out, Sushant and Summer invite me to come stay with them while I sort out my living situation. Their roommate is off in Kerala and so they have an extra bedroom until the following Sunday. I'm very excited about this but I am not sure what's going on with Joey's friend who is off in Delhi.

We pile into our separate cars and head to China House, which is located in the basement of the Hyatt. There is a cover charge to get in but Pinky knows the DJ, although he is currently in Goa. However, once we get there, she's having a hard time getting a hold of him so we give up and head off to our various homes. Sushant reiterates the invitation to stay with him and Summer and I am definitely hoping to do so.

On the way home, Joey and I stop at a roadside eatery for some delicious fried rice, which is quite spicy. We get back to his friends' apartment and are out like a light.

Next morning, I am awoken to a pretty strong sewage smell which eventually clears. Joey takes me to breakfast at a Nepalese cafe where we dine on delicious dumplings called, awesomely, "mo-mos."

I mention Sushant's invitation to Joey and this clears a lot of hurdles. Now his friend in Delhi doesn't have to come home early and I'm taken care of. Joey has a film shoot in the afternoon and he arranges with Sushant to come pick me up at an internet cafe.

Sushant and Summer's company flat is located in Juhu, one of the more fancy parts of Mumbai, and only a few blocks from Amitabh Bachan's house. I am VERY excited about this. As we drive by, Sushant tells me that on Sundays at 6pm, crowds line up outside because Amitabh will often come out and wave to them. He is India's most famous actor -- at least by longevity standards. Shahrukh Khan gives him a run for the money in popularity but he's only been around since the 90s. If you've seen "Slumdog Millionaire" you might recall the first flashback where the little boy gets locked in the outhouse by his older brother when an actor's helicopter lands on the nearby airstrip. The boy jumps through the potty's hole and into the puddle of sewage with a photo of the actor held aloft and then races to get his autograph. That actor is Amitabh.... or at least someone portraying the 1980s version of him.

S & S's place is really nice and I'm very happy to be there. We hang out and get to know each other for a bit before they run off to Sushant's mother's for dinner. WHile they're gone, Summer sends me a text, suggesting I check out the beach as it's pretty hopping that evening. I decide to head up there... and indeed it is quite crowded. Dilapidated carousel rides and food stands dot the beach. Families sit and roam and seem to be having a grand Sunday night. I stop by a stand of puris, which are little pastry balls that are filled with onions and chickpeas and potato mix and dipped in a liquid. You have to eat them fast before they get soggy, which I didn't do. They're like spicy little Indian shots!

As usual, I was quite an attraction. A lot of staring as I stood there and ate. Honestly, I don't know half the time if I'm doing something wrong, or I'm just entertainment.

I wandered around the beach a little bit and then headed back to the flat where I sat and edited photos and finally figured out my hard drive.

Monday - April 12th
Today is the day I have to establish contact with the people I've met. First off, I called Abhay the set photographer. Unfortunately, he is off in Rajasthan (in Northern India) until April 26th but is happy to meet me on his return. Despite his lack of reply to my last email, I decide to shoot off another email to Ravi, the cinematographer I met in New York, letting him know I've arrived. I was only hesitant because Ravi is a big player in Bollywood and very well known and I didn't want to be too pushy. But almost immediately after hitting "send," I received a text to my phone from Ravi saying he was in Bombay filming and we could "catch up" in the evening. I was ecstatic!! On Day One to be meeting a top person in Bollywood... DAY ONE!! After that, I emailed one casting director I had been put in touch with through a friend on Facebook and another that I had met on the street in Colaba (but his cell phone said he was out of area). I figured that doing some extra work would be a great way to get on set and meet production people.

I went for a walk to find lunch - there was a special on a 6 inch chicken breast sub at the Subway down the street for about 1.50. Boy oh boy was it hot out. I also picked up a soda and made my way back to the condo. Crossing the road can be complicated as there are no lights anywhere nearby. Basically you have to dodge across the first half, then stand up on the median and then play frogger across the other side. Traffic was coming at fast clip and evenly spaced so I stood in the median for some time. All of a sudden, this small blurry object hurtles between the cars and appears next to me, grabbing my soda. I'm startled and yank it back to find a small, incredibly dirty boy who is probably around 4 years old. He gestures to his mouth and at my soda and I'm at a loss of what to do in this situation. Give him the nutrionally valueless soda? This is easy to do but it promotes this kind of behavior -- dodging traffic to grab foreigners' food. Or deny him the drink and feel like a big Western jerk. I opted for "big Western jerk." I would rather this kid not get run over in the future than give him a sugar buzz.

Summer and Sushant return from work and we sip wine while Summer whips up a raw pad thai salad to go with the pizza Sushant orders from Pizza Hut, around the corner. I had walked by there earlier and it was hopping -- with a HUGE line outside. I'm looking at my phone every few minutes to see if I've missed Ravi's call.

We sit and watch TV, eating the pizza and drinking wine. No call from Ravi. I'm a little bummed but still happy that at least he wanted to meet up at some point (at least as far as I can tell by his texts. I read them to S & S and they agree that the texts are a little vague but "catch up" usually means in person and not via phone.) Summer is on the late shift the next day so she and I stay up very very late, talking about Bollywood, Shahrukh Khan and watching videos on Youtube... eventually realizing it was 4 a.m. and going to bed.

Next morning, I am in hell. At first I think I'm just horribly hungover (though I didn't think we'd consumed that much wine and Summer seemed to be fine while I'm throwing up). It's not until the strange all-over-body ache followed by a fever in the early evening that I realize it's truly not a hangover. Sushant brings me "exploding arse powder" and mango lassis (which were perfect). I'm finally feeling better in the late evening and was really lucky to have such good nurses.

Wednesday - Taking it easy. Tummy still rocky but mostly better. I send Ravi a text message and find that he's rushed off to Malaysia to shoot a commercial but he writes back that he'll find out what productions are shooting and give me their information. I take a walk on Juhu Beach but have to head back when tummy takes a turn.

Thursday - Finally feeling 90% better. I take several walks to check out my neighborhood. Near a grocery store, a man passes me in a Bryn Mawr shirt. Pretty sure he didn't go there.

Friday - Feeling great! Sushant has set me up to meet his friend Sonia, who is renting a room in her new apartment. In the early evening, I head over to check it out. My rickshaw driver has zero idea where he's going (despite the fact that when I got into the rickshaw and told him the address, he turned around and just started to drive) so it takes some time to get there... and several phone calls with Sushant speaking to him. I initially called Sushant when we stopped at a traffic light and my driver got out of the rickshaw and walked out of sight to, I presume, ask someone else where he was going.

Eventually I arrived at the street Sonia lives on, and she met me on the corner to direct us the rest of the way. The rickshaw driver then proceeded to argue with her over the fare, saying he'd turned off the meter at one point, so we actually owed him 30 rupees over the fare listed. This is complete BS but since Sonia didn't argue, I didn't really feel I could. Sushant would have blown a gasket...

We walked into her building's grounds and it was like the driveway to a Las Vegas casino. Immense overhang and circular drive-in. The building is still under construction so there are very few tenants. Sonia lives on the 32nd floor and the view is insane. She just moved in so she doesn't have much furniture yet. A couch is being made. Then I saw the pool and gym (with sauna and massage room) and was pretty sure I had to take the room.

Headed back to meet up with Summer and Sushant before going out for the evening. I had called Sushant and told him about the first rickshaw driver ripping me off this evening and he was irate. Got into my second rickshaw who turned around when I told him "Juhu Beach" and said, "100 rupees." "Um, no," I said and patted the meter (knowing full well that it would cost about half that). He shook his head, "100 rupees." I shrugged and started to get out of the rickshaw to which he grunted and started the meter. When we got back to Summer and Sushant's place, I had to run upstairs and get some extra cash, leaving the driver outside. Just as I did that, Sushant called to see if I made it home and I told him what the driver did. "Is he still there?" "Yes, I had to get some money upstairs. Why, do you want to kick some ass?" But I realized I was talking to dead air. Apparently, the moment I said, "yes" Sushant, who was on his motorbike only blocks away, decided he DID want to kick some ass. I went down and paid the driver who has no idea how close he came to getting torn a new one and went back upstairs and moments later Sushant and Summer came in. Sushant said next time he was going to follow Summer and I to see who tries to rip us off.

We decide to go to the Hawaiian Shack, where apparently S & S met four years ago. It's in trendy Bandra and upon arrival and looking around at the clientele, Summer exclaimed, "Oh no! I've become one of those people who brings their foreigner here!" The club had four levels. First floor was apparently mostly 80s rock and Abba. Floors two and three played hip hop and Bollywood hits. The fourth floor was the roof but it was closed for a private party.

Summer and I wanted to hear Bollywood songs, naturally, and we went upstairs. There was a group of middle-aged men dancing together near us and they clearly needed some women in there as they were dancing with each other rather sexily. When a hit Bollywood song came on, the arms all went up, the shoulders bouncing. I was in my element! Finally I could bounce my shoulders with impunity!

Back downstairs, they were playing "That Thing You Do" from the movie of the same title. Interesting choice.

It was getting late so we decided to head out before the rest of the club emptied. Back at home, I got out my lighting kit and set up a quick photoshoot, where we posed with the electric mosquito bat OF DOOM and Sushant's motorcycle helmet. Good fun! Really pleased I fell in with some wonderful folks!

Dear Mosquitos in My Room:

2010-04-19T14:37:00.000-07:00

Why my elbows? Why my knees? All of this to feast on (have you seen the size of my backside?) and these are the areas you choose? You're making me look like a victim of the pox and as soon as I have one of those electric racquets of mosquito DOOM, you're toast.

Consider your days numbered, you little jerks. But hopefully reincarnation will bring you back as something slightly more palatable next time. Like a Republican.

Saturday - April 10, 2010

2010-04-18T05:11:00.000-07:00

Saturday morning felt a little more normal, time-wise. Skipped the strange breakfast. I hadn't eaten much of it Friday and in fact gave the weird hotdog bun-like bread to a street woman with a baby the previous day. As soon as I was up and about, I went to the hotel lobby to call Joey who said he was filming until the evening and would pick me up when he was done. I was to stay at the apartment of a friend of his. Bit of a tricky situation though because she'd gone off to Delhi without leaving a key so he had a plan to break in. In the meantime, I needed to amuse myself until 6pm or so.

First off, time to get a phone. I headed out to the phone store around the corner and was kitted out with a small black phone (which Joey would later sneeringly refer to as a "driver's phone") for about 30 bucks. Imagine my happiness upon discovering, after leaving the store and standing on the street corner going through the ringtone options (because I know the last thing I want to hear in an enclosed space is someone going through their ringtone options), that two songs from "Om Shanti Om," one of my favorite Bollywood films, were listed. I settled on "Dard-e-Disco" (although I've now learned that the unfortunate -- or fortunate!!-- side effect of having this tune as my ringtone is that I now walk around humming it for 30 minutes after every call. The lyrics in English are "my heart is full of the pain of disco, pain of disco." Much more of this and it really will be full).

I pocketed my new phone and headed to the Barista Cafe near the Taj. I remembered there had been wifi there in 2008 and thought it might be a nice place to beat the heat. As I scooted past the vendors and street children, I passed a familiar face: my old pal Lawrence (see above linked post). I smiled but didn't say anything, knowing he'd probably turn up at the cafe. He smiled back, questioningly but we both kept walking. Sure enough, 15 minutes after I was ensconced in the window seat of the cafe, he waltzed in and sat with his friend just across from me and looked at me with vague recognition. I said, "Lawrence, are you ever not here?" His eyes went saucer-like and his mouth pursed. He leaned back in his chair: "This is scary." He squinted a little more, "Mo?"

We had a nice catch-up. He asked if I was feeling better this time. I said yes, this time I forced myself to eat and that helped. Talked a little about 26/11. Apparently he had, of course, been in the cafe. They had food and water and a televison to keep informed but they could hear everything going on outside and it was incredibly frightening.

As it turned out, the cafe no longer had wifi. I'm not sure if this was terrorism-related (as I previously wrote, I had to give my passport number over to use the internet in another cafe.) Lawrence told me that the cafe across the street did have wifi (and didn't ask me for any ID which is confusing) so I decided to head over there. I was having some issues with my new hard drive and wanted to get it sorted. Plus this cafe had Kingfisher -- giant mugs of it. I had stupidly gotten iced coffee at the first cafe (although they told me the ice was from filtered water) and I had fished out the ice but who knows if that was enough. My thoughts were that if I couldn't beat giardia lamblia -- I'd at least get it drunk.

Two mugs of Kingfisher, a surprisingly good personal margherita pizza and fourteen fits of temper at my stupid hard drive later, I tried calling Joey again to see what his progress was. Apparently he'd been trying to reach me for the past hour but couldn't get through to my mobile. He was done and wanted me to come meet him halfway as getting down to Colaba to pick me up at 6 on a Saturdaywould be a nightmare at this hour. I said goodbye to the slightly irritating couple next to me: an Indian man and a loud girl from Philadelphia, and dashed back to the hotel for my stuff, which I'd stored. Hopped in cab and headed towards a shopping mall at which to meet Joey. About halfway there, two young men on a motorbike kept pace along side my taxi, trying to talk to me. When we finally lost them, my taxi driver told me I shouldn't talk to those men. "They are bad boys." I have noticed on both trips that a lot of Indian men will talk to me and then at some point admonish me for talking to other men... as they are clearly "bad." Okay. A moment later there's another honk and another bike next to the taxi trying to get my attention. But it turns out to be the Indian man with the Philadelphia girl on the back of his bike. How bizarre to run into them (probably almost an hour after leaving them in another part of the city)! They recognized my hat from the back window of the cab and wanted to say hi... which they did and promptly zipped off again. My taxi driver grumbled.

We pull up to the mall at last and with no help from the driver whatsoever, I unload myself and stand on the sidewalk a little bewildered. I'm not sure where to go when suddenly there's a tap on my shoulder and Joey is here! He grabs my stuff and wades out into traffic with me stumbling along beside him, trying not to get run down. We pop into his car and he deftly moves into the flow and we head north. He's a good driver, yet slightly terrifying. Much like the rickshaw drivers and taxi drivers, he makes space where there is none, gets a little too close to the cars in front of him, lanes be damned. Truly -- lines on the road are purely for decoration. There is no such thing as a traffic lane. You go where there is space, even if physics deem there not to be any. It will just open up. Somehow. Same for every moving body situation here. Somehow all these people and vehicles move with each other, around each other, so closely, yet no one touches. Well, except the men. The men are always touching. They drape. On everything. They're very lean and limb-y...and drapey. I don't know how else to describe it. They drape when they sit, they drape over each when they walk, they're even a little drapey when they're moving alone.

Now is the tricky part. Joey has to find a locksmith to meet us at his friend's apartment. He leaves me in the car to go find one and I decide to make a quick call home to let everyone know I'm alive. We then head to the apartment where Joey asks me to stay in the car while he takes care of this. Unfortunately, the apartment manager stops them from breaking in -- even though he talks to the girl who lives there. Joey tells the manager that he's her brother and that I'm her friend from the US, but it's a no go. Joey gets back in the car and contemplates his next move while telling me about all the new strict tenant rules at many apartment buildings in Mumbai. At most places, young men are not allowed to live together anymore, he tells me, because landlords are afraid of terrorist cells and more than one man equals a "cell." They're also not allowed to have guests. Uncertain of what else to do (although I offer to go back to a hotel and am waved off) he takes me to his friends' apartment. I guess this is an apartment building that is okay with three young men living together. They're all actors and ...well... if I thought three young American bachelors have questionable hygiene and living conditions, I won't ever complain about it again. Not that I was complaining-- I was happy to have a place to crash for the evening. I just made sure my sleep sack was on the bed before I put my pillow down. And I had my first run-in of the trip with a squat toilet. I was given one of the two bedrooms and the three young men all went and re-draped themselves in the other bedroom.

But... there was no sleeping yet! It was Saturday night and time to party!

2010-04-15T12:15:00.000-07:00

Juhu Beach, Mumbai

Bollywood-bound

2010-04-07T07:38:00.000-07:00

The two fifteen year old British girls flounced into the seats next to mine, all coltish arms and legs, arranging themselves this way and that. One plaintively commented she couldn’t wait to get home and the other agreed as she yanked out her earphones, elbowing me in the process. She then pulled something from her purse and picked up her u-shaped neck pillow and before I could stop her, squirted perfume FOUR TIMES onto the pillow. The noxious gas, in a closed airplane cabin, quickly enveloped me. Coughing pointedly at the girl (who pointedly ignored me) and waving my in-flight magazine, I knew I was in for a looooong flight.

Mostly uneventful flight, I did take notice of Belgrade and Beirut as we flew over them in the darkness. Funny how in the dark cities could be anywhere in the world, Beirut could be Detroit, hard to tell.

As the sun came up, sparkling blue, we approached Dubai, which could give Los Angeles a run for its money in the smog department. I asked Miss Perfumes-a-lot if it was from dust or pollution. Mostly dust, she said. Sandstorms.

The world’s tallest building is literally twice as tall as the next building in the city. I contemplated reenacting my classy Sears Tower as…um…nevermind… photo but decided if kissing gets you arrested in this city, perhaps pretending its architecture is genitalia is worthy of execution.

I slowly found my way out of the airport through passport control where men in white Arab garb and white sandals with one inch heels ushered us past and quickly found a Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf (it was almost midnight in NYC afterall). I paused to take a picture to show my mother when I noticed a guy near me doing the same thing. We were the only ones around and got to talking and it turns out we were both on the New York flight and he also lived in Los Angeles for a time (and most of his family is still there) and was pretty excited to see the ol’ Coffee Bean on foreign shores. He was going to his hotel downtown so I figured we could share a ride. It turned out the metro was cheaper so we opted for that. However, finding the metro turned out to be more difficult. Let’s just say that the Dubai Airport is unnecessarily complicated.

Finally aboard, I dug the incredible cleanliness and futuristic soundtrack playing softly. Turns out Jerome missed his stop entirely so when we got to mine (at the Burj Tower), we wandered over together, admired the tower and then jumped in separate taxis. I took mine over to the beach where the ridiculous six-star Burg Al Arab stands like a giant sail out over the beach. Unfortunately, you need a reservation to go inside, which could take 15-20 minutes and I was on borrowed time, so I just plopped myself down in the sand for a bit.

The water was incredibly blue and the beach very empty. In fact the whole city felt empty. Now I realize it was only 10:30 in the morning, but it was strangely quiet. Everywhere you looked there were skyscrapers halfway built. Cranes litter the cityscape. It’s bizarre. I caught a cab over to the train with a quick peek inside a nearby mall. Women in black veiled garb giggled as they passed me.

Back on the train, I initially got on the women and children’s car but it was too crowded so I went to the front and spent the ride back videotaping the landscape surrounded by staring men. The population of Dubai seems to be more Indian and Southeast Asian than Arab. Jerome told me that most of the lowpaying jobs are done by the South/Southeast Asians and the good jobs go to the emirates.

Made my way through the gigantic airport and back onto the plane for my last leg of the trip. Sat next to a nice young man who was from India but has been working in Dubai for the past 2 years and hadn’t been home in the meantime.

I was seriously fading by this time. Tried to sleep a little. Plane was delayed taking off due to a family not showing up and so they had to offload their luggage.

Arrival in Mumbai by daylight but it’s dark by the time I get my luggage. Prepaid taxi to the city is about 8 bucks. I feel more confident this time. Construction is done on the airport so it is very modern looking. Still it’s a shock when we pause at the outer gate so the taxi can pay the toll to get out and instantly I have a young mother with baby and child knocking on my window for money.

Drive to hotel takes about an hour. We take the new Sea-Link drive, which goes along the ocean, and much like the lake in Hanoi, is lined with motorbikes every few feet on which sit necking couples. It is pretty adorable – couple after couple after couple all either sitting on their bike or on the wall making out.

Finally make it to the hotel and I’m just blown away by how familiar the smell is… in a good way. The airport smelled the same – slightly mildewy and something flowery. Same at the hotel but with more incense and spice and decay. I don’t think I could ever pinpoint any of the fragrance. You’d need a true sommelier’s nose.

It was too early to go to sleep so I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. I found the nearest internet shop and was startled to learn I needed to give them my passport number now, as a defense against future terrorism. My hotel, by the way, was in Colaba, a few blocks from the Taj Hotel.

Next, I trekked out to find some food. I wasn’t terribly hungry but I remembered that the reason I felt poorly my first few days in India last time was because I wasn’t eating. It became a bad cycle: not eating, then feeling badly because I wasn’t eating, then not eating because I was feeling badly. It was now getting late so my food options were limited. I found myself in front of Leopold Café, which was hopping and decided to go in. It was the first place I went on my first trip so might as well keep up tradition. A man with a rifle at the door searched my bag. Two more men with rifles guarded the other entrances. I was seated in a corner and ordered a chicken masala khati roll, which was like a little Indian soft taco. I got to talking to my waiter, Salim, who asked me if I was familiar with the events of 26/11. Yes, I told him. I had been glued to the television. He reached up behind me and removed a small picture frame, which hid a bullet hole the size of a golf ball. Then pointed to another in the corner of a painting, and another near a light switch. Suddenly, my khati roll wasn’t so tasty. I of course knew what had happened at Leopold’s and was hesitant to return but also didn’t want to be kept away because of terrorists. I finished my meal, chit-chatted with Jimmy from Zanzibar and then headed back for some sleep. Unfortunately, now I was a bit jetlagged and fidgety and couldn’t fall asleep until 2 a.m.

I’m usually pretty good with knowing pretty close to what time it is. Usually with in ten minutes. But when I woke up in my windowless room after what I thought was a fairly goodnight’s sleep, I had no idea. My ipod was on New York time and my brain wasn’t functioning yet to do the math correctly. I ended up going forwards instead of backwards and thought it was 11 a.m. I got up and started sorting my luggage and flipped on the television… which said it was 5:30am. Which meant I’d been asleep for a little over 3 hours. And considering I’d had maybe 3 hours the night before I left followed by a grand total of 2 hours on the planes, I thought it best to go back to sleep.

Woke up again thinking it was 11 a.m. got up, took a shower, got dressed, ordered my free breakfast and discovered it was just past 8.

Again took my time before leaving the hotel as I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do with myself that day. I didn’t feel much like doing anything touristy. I needed an adapter and a phone SIM card (which would require a copy of my passport and visa to obtain, another terrorism related issue). I bought these and then found myself wandering near the Gateway to India and the Taj. I thought I’d take a peek into the Taj and, again, went through some serious security in order to get in. Metal detector, bag scanner etc.

Lunch was a strange falafel sandwich… then started to feel rundown. Headed back to hotel for short nap. 5 hours later… (boy is this blog familiar). Wandered out to find food – headed to a restaurant that was recommended for good chicken biryani. At the take-out counter, I ordered and waited. When I got my food, the bill was slightly higher than expected. I asked the cashier guy and he said, “Tax.” I shrugged and walked back to the hotel where I realized I had the wrong food. Chicken kadhai. I went to the hotel manager where I called the restaurant and talked to the Take-out guy. He said, no, I had ordered chicken kadhai, everyone had heard me order chicken kadhai. I said, “I ordered biryani. I don’t even know what chicken kadhai is.” “No. You ordered chicken kadhai.” And he HUNG UP. So I called back, this time with the hotel guy doing the talking. The hotel guy meekly hung up the phone a minute later. “He said you ordered the chicken kadhai.” “Call the manager,” I said. I got some guy on the phone, asked if he was manager, he said no… and he hung up on me.

Boy… I had forgotten the legendary “the customer is rarely right” way of India.

Miffed, I picked up my food and stomped off to the restaurant. Clearly, the take-out guy was surprised to see me. I was pretty pissed off but I remembered that angry arguing gets you no where in India so I pasted on a smile, waggled my head, and insisted that I didn’t order kadha chicken. Eventually the take-out guy gave me the right food (hopefully minus any retaliatory bodily fluid). As soon as he handed me my food though, of course his demeanor changed. “Why didn’t you just call us?” he asked, sweetly. “We would have brought you the food. You didn’t have to come all the way back.” ::sigh:: Customer service AFTER the fact.

The chicken biryani was awful, by the way.

*I wanted to post pictures but I'm having some issues with them at the moment. Check back tomorrow!

Brooklyn to Bollywood -- Here we go again

2010-04-07T07:28:00.000-07:00

First leg: JFK - > Dubai. Seen here with mortal enemy. This time, you will be mine.

Um...that is if I really want to find out why you've turned into one big hard lump. Maybe I should just leave you be. Nah. Surely your resolve - slash - packaging must have weakened by now.

Happy Holi!

2010-03-02T10:42:00.000-08:00

Love it. Sad to miss it... again. Attending the Holi Parade in Queens this weekend -- but it's hard to fully get into it (dry color, wet color) when it's only 35 degrees out.

Well hello there...

2010-01-19T21:31:00.000-08:00

Been a long time. Some new things are afoot... maybe.

I applied for a Film and Media program in Mumbai.

I got accepted yesterday.

Now, I have to decide (and soon):

a) Can/Should I go?

and if so....

b) March or April?

Someone wrote on my Facebook - which would you regret more: spending the money or missing the opportunity.

Videos - Part 1

2009-04-10T13:59:00.001-07:00

I'm going to implant these videos into the corresponding entries, but here they are in case you don't want to reread the entire blog!

A marketplace in Udaipur (the girl who smiles at the end is the best):

My little friends in Hampi:

1) Explaining their favorite Gods:

2) Holding a staged conversation that I have no idea what it is about:

3) Sliding:

My Jodhpur suitors:

Beijing and The Great Wall

2008-09-12T12:21:00.000-07:00

I was looking forward to the train ride - meet new people, see interesting scenery as we headed up through China. I got to the train station and waited. I was feeling terribly anxious for some reason. When it was time to board, I discovered I was sharing a small cabin with two Mongolian boys who wouldn't speak to me the entire time. Or make eye contact. This was my first indication that I might have some language problems ahead of me. I also discovered that I had pretty much no money left. For some reason, I didn't think about the food situation on the train. Good thing I'd picked up snacks. Our train stopped several hours later and we were hustled off into the station for visa processing. I hadn't realized we'd switch trains at the border so I'd gotten all cozy in my bunk -- ready for the 2 day trip. Now I was rushing to pack up while getting barked at in both Chinese and Vietnamese and something I think was supposed to be English.

Bleary-eyed, we got through the processing, had our stuff looked at and boarded a nicer, newer train. Again with the Mongolian boys. The older one (I think they were brothers who went to school in Vietnam but their family lives in Mongolia ...maybe? ) had a mohawk and was wearing a tshirt with stick figures in compromising positions and "I f----d your girlfriend" written across it. He wore it the whole time.

A few minutes later, more Chinese agents were knocking on all the doors and demanding to see the bags of the Western passengers. They wanted to know what my Vietnamese coffee makers were but mostly they were interested in my books and my folder of papers. Was I carrying any subversive literature, I guess. They went through that stuff pretty intensely. I was suddenly really not liking China and wondering what they were going to do when the world descends on them for the Olympics in August.

At some point, I fell asleep but at dawn we were woken up again and hustled off the train into a waiting room. We left our stuff on the train. I am not sure exactly why we had to do this. The waiting room had big cushy 70s style armchairs and crappy coffee but I was starving. We had about an hour to kill so I decided to take my chances and leave the train station to find some food -- I had exchanged what little money I had for Yuan already. Actually, I had plenty of money for regular food. It was the train food I couldn't afford. As luck would have it, there was a small grocery store across the street. I went in, found what appeared to be instant noodles and bought a couple of tubs. I had seen that there was a hot water spigot on the train that was used for noodles and making tea. My apprehension wasn't really abating. I think it was because I hadn't really talked to anyone in almost two days.

Eventually we were moving again and it started raining. For awhile you could see the amazing landscape outside:

But soon there was no visibility whatsoever. The rain fogged up the windows -- so much for the viewing part of the trip. I fell asleep -- as did my cabinmates. Around dinner time, I went to the hot water spigot and on my way back spotted the door open to a cabin filled with Westerners. I paused to see they were playing cards, so I introduced myself. The two guys were from New Zealand and the girl was from England. They had all left New Zealand and were backpacking their way across land -- on their way to China where they'd eventually catch the Trans-Siberian Railway. They invited me to join them so I broke out my bottle of Vietnamese wine (after realizing it could make for a tragjc homecoming in America if I were to open my bag to find it had destroyed everything in transit). Turned out to be a good thing as it was REALLY BAD. Eventually, we moved to the dining car where we drank the house beer -- Pabst Blue Ribbon of course - and continued playing cards until the wee hours.

We arrived in Beijing the next morning and I asked my new friends if I could trail them to a hotel. I was required to book a hotel in order to get my Chinese visa back in April but then the tourist agency in Thailand canceled it as I didn't know exactly when I would arrive. They agreed -- I think the couple, Craig (yes, another New Zealander named Craig) and Eve were happy to pawn Josh off on me so they could have a little coupley alone time. We got off the train and instantly realized we were going to have a problem with the language. First I followed them as they tried to find information on the Trans-Siberian railway but they quickly gave up and we spent fifteen minutes just trying to find the taxi stand. Once the four of us and our luggage were stuffed in a cab, Craig attempted to give directions to the cabbie. We drove for about ten minutes before the cabbie stopped at a light, pulled out a colorful paper with cartoons on it, pointing at the part that said, "Where do you want to go?" Oh crap. I think these fliers were part of the "Get Ready for the Olympics" training but still. We laughed and tried again. He nodded that he understood and we were off. Another five minutes, the flier came out again. He was very good-natured and we all laughed and tried our best to guide him. Finally after many u-turns and dead-ends, we found the hotel -- which was tucked way back in one of Beijing's hutongs, old neighborhoods with tiny alleys where the buildings adjoin each other and surround a courtyard (these neighborhoods are quickly being bulldozed as Beijing modernizes itself). Once inside the hotel, we then spent 30 minutes trying to check in. My friends had booked two hotel rooms -- both singles. Now they wanted to change one to a room with two beds (for Josh and me). The girls working the front desk absolutely had no idea what we were on about, nor did they seem to understand that my friends had already paid online for the rooms. Finally, a bespectacled business man standing behind us intervened and translated to the clerks. Everything was straightened out. We thanked him profusely and went to our rooms. I was suffering from 3 days of no shower and decided that needed to be remedied immediately before we headed out to explore the local area. However, I could not figure out how to get hot water. I was about to go down to the front desk where I anticipated another 45 minute conversation (even WITH the phrasebook I'd carted through 6 countries in preparation for the difficulty I expected in China) when I ran into the friendly business man who turned out to be our neighbor. I explained the lack of hot water and he kindly offered to help out. He came into our room and called downstairs with our phone. He sat back and smiled and started telling us that he was a professor and that he'd written a book about how China was going to take over the world and so everyone better start learning Chinese (I'm already aware of this, I have seen "Firefly" after all...). A few minutes later, there was knock on the door and a hotel worker popped in... with a thermos of hot water -- for tea. Oh dear. I must not have explained myself well. "The shower," I said. "I meant hot water for the shower." Our neighbor slapped his head and stepped into our bathroom and twiddled a knob I hadn't seen. Ta-da! I Hot water! I thanked him, but he settled back down again to discuss his book some more. I gave Josh a look of apology and stepped into the bathroom.

When I came out, our neighbor had cleared out. Josh showered and we went next door to collect his friends but oddly enough, they didn't answer-- so we headed out on our own. First stop, cash. We kept walking and discovered that we were right in the main tourist area. We wandered around for a bit, trying to decide on where to eat lunch. Met an adorable puppy, which I nicknamed "Dim Sum" because I'm PC like that.

Candidate for "People who look like their pets."

Ended up eating McDonald's and figured we'd get a real dinner later. After wandering around the lake and peeking into shops for fun "Engrish" (I found a couple of good t-shirts) we went back to the hotel to pick up Josh's friends for dinner. Josh dropped off his laundry with the front desk clerks and we headed out to eat dinner at a local cafe while a video of a Shania Twain concert blared overhead.

Next morning, my friends wanted to get their train tickets squared away. We caught a taxi back to the train station so they could get their tickets for Tuesday. While they took care of it, I picked up postage stamps (which would turn out to be a waste of money), checked my email (failure -- couldn't get onto my email -- oh hi China!) and get breakfast. Then we all wandered through an interesting grocery store where I purchased some Chinese style medicine for my ailing stomach.

Speaking of ailing stomachs, I then had to run across the street to a hotel to use their facilities. Looks like my "friends from India" were back.

Hailed another cab and headed to The Temple of the Heavens. It was a strange day - overcast yet you could see the sun burning through the clouds above. Couldn't tell if it was a fog or smog situation but I knew that the Olympians who would be arriving in two months would have their work cut out for them. Josh and I struck out on our own and wandered the gardens.

There is a particular part of the temple where there is a raised marble slab and people took turns standing on it. I found out only recently (a year later) that this was considered the highest point and the emperor would stand here to be both part of earth and the heavens.

I took my turn and then saw the young boy who stepped up after me grin such a Golum smile, I had to take his photo. Yeesh.

Around the grounds were covered walkways that appeared to be THE place for older Chinese to get together. Many games of chess were going on as well as karaoke machines to gather around, dancing groups, exercising groups (boy do the Chinese love their exercise), and various other social activities.

Some serious storm clouds were gathering so we decided to head out. We thought it might be a good idea to book a trek to the Great Wall that evening. I wanted to go the next day as I was worried there might be bad weather if I left it until Sunday. Josh decided he'd accompany me.

We headed back to the hotel and Josh and I went to the front desk to book the trip. I should have known it would be another impossible session of charades. I even tried to draw a picture of the Great Wall to illustrate what we wanted to do. Finally they understood. Josh remembered he was running out of clothes to wear and asked if his laundry was ready (or gestured a lot until they understood). The clerk went and retrieved his bag of laundry, which looked dubious... nothing was folded. We walked back up to the room and Josh pulled out a t-shirt from the bag --"I don't think they washed it," he laughed. They certainly didn't smell clean. Nope, not washed -- they just stored his dirty clothes for him -- they must have thought he was crazy.

Dinner at a nearby restaurant. Our bottle of wine was sponsored by the Olympics. So was the beer. I soon noticed quite a bit was sponsored by the Olympics.

Dinner was interesting -- tough to find something on the menu that wasn't intestines, brains etc. Then I figured, who decided muscle was okay to eat but not stomach? I ended up eating Peking Duck -- it's a requirement. So amazing.

Early to rise -- a taxi would take us to the waiting bus. We were greeted with a prepared "breakfast" -- a questionable "sandwich" -- and hopped on board. It was about an hour and a half ride out to the section of the wall we'd be walking, Simatai which was much less touristy than the Badaling section.

The weather was not so great -- very cloudy and foggy and hinting at possible rain. Josh and I picked up some ponchos and an umbrella and started the hike. A Chinese man hung back to chat with us as we walked. Told us he was a farmer. I didn't really want the company (the guy was very chatty and something didn't feel right) and stopped to adjust my shoes and backpack but the guy hung out next to us and kept yapping. Dismayed, Josh and I kept looking at each other -- were we stuck with this guy for the next 3 hours? Hadn't seen him on the bus -- where did he come from? When we climbed up to the start of the wall, we finally learned his reason for friendliness: he wanted to sell us a calendar. We detached ourselves from him with a firm no and continued our trek. We were to be ambushed by sellers at every watchtower but this still wouldn't be as bad as Badaling's touts. In fact, the wall was fairly empty. Josh and I would either linger behind or hurry ahead in order to get shots of the Wall completely void of people. Unfortunately (or fortunately as it perhaps kept tourists away) the weather often had the Wall shrouded in fog. But still, it was beautiful and mysterious -- probably more so than had it been full sunshine.

I really enjoyed the hike -- the Great Wall was one of the reasons I decided to go on this trip in the first place. Six months earlier (or perhaps more), I'd been sitting in my living room with my neighbor, Sherrod, watching a Dateline episode on the Wall. I knew I had to see it. I didn't realize how soon I would see it. I remembered this and as I stood at the peak of one of the rolling stretches of the wall, I paused to text Sherrod: "Guess where I am!" "Newark?" was the response.

It was nice there were so few people on the wall. At one point, I paused ahead of another group to squat down and take a picture of the stretch of wall ahead of me. Just as I was about to take the picture, a young woman burst ahead of me and into the frame, exclaiming, "I'M AFRAID OF HEIGHTS!" Baffled, I said, "Then why are you up here?" "If I keep moving, I'm okay." Sure, lady... as long as you keep moving UP THE HIGHEST HILL we've come across and ruin my photo -- I mean, it IS all about you. Honestly.

It was rather sad when we completed the trek. I knew that not only was I done with seeing something so amazing (that I might never see again in my life)... but also, somehow, I've reached the end of my trip. In two short days I'd be on a plane heading back to New York. I was ready... but I wasn't. I had no idea if I'd ever be able to do something like this again and melancholy was setting in fast and furious.

We crossed a rickety footbridge, climbed a hill and then hiked down to where the rest of our tour group was camped out in a cafe for our included "lunch."

Half-starved, we dug into the buffet. Our table was rather raucous and before we were going to head out and back to Beijing, a bunch of them purchased more beer for the bus ride (no open container laws) including Josh.

I made due with my one beer and later was glad of it. We hit some SERIOUS traffic and when we finally stopped to get some gas, half the guys on the bus were nearly bursting. They SPRINTED to the bathroom and exhibited sheer relief on their faces when they returned. Josh said he'd never felt like that before in his life -- almost didn't think he was going to make it. We stopped again a little later and I decided to use the facilities and I can honestly say they were the worst facilities in my entire 3.5 months in Asia. It was basically a cement building with holes dug in the dirt. The smell was incredible. Suddenly, the thought of pristine porcelain seated toilets and two-ply toilet paper looming in my future was heartwarming.

We got back to Beijing in pouring rain. Covered in mud and exhausted, we trotted down to a cafe for a dinner and hit the hay.

My Last Day

After a quick breakfast, we headed to the Forbidden City (which was actually pretty close by). The crowds were chaotic. Before entering the palace, I headed to the bathroom and thought, you know, if I time this right -- this will be the last squatting toilet I use.

And it was! Oof, one thing I will not miss, that's for sure.

I found it a little difficult to enjoy the Forbidden Palace due to the hordes of tourists but it certainly is a beautiful place.

As we exited on the other side of the palace, a familiar red wall loomed up. We passed through a tunnel and emerged under Chairman Mao's giant portrait on the other side.

Tiannamen Square. It's immense. I realized I really didn't know much about what happened here. There's no recorded death toll -- the NY Times has it somewhere between 400-800.

We headed to the closest subway to take us out to the Bird's Nest -- the new Olympic Stadium. The subway system was at least fairly easy to navigate. I imagine that was an Olympic initiative. However, the closest subway still only got you within a mile from the stadium. We walked through the blistering 90+ heat to the stadium. The smog was incredible.

The Birds Nest didn't look quite done and the grounds were a mess. All over the city, hotels were still going up (and would sit empty anyway). But there was a TGIFridays up and ready to go right by the entrance.

I stopped to take a picture of some workers and one of them pretended to come after me. I hope he was pretending...

Hopped in a cab to find lunch. Had Thai food for some reason. Melancholy settling in hard.

Craig and Eve went off on their own and Josh and I decided to do my last night up right. First we had a game of cards at a fondue/hot pot restaurant which was empty. The beers were about 1.50 each. We walked across the street to the tourist area where beers jumped up to 5 dollars a glass. No thanks. We wandered around for a bit. Found ourselves walking behind an American family -- the mother, at one point, whipped around and hissed, "Hunter, stay with us!" to her small son.

I had noticed around Beijing there are quite a few sidewalk gyms. Right near the hotel in the hutong there were some rudimentary stairclimbers and sit-up/push-up equipment. As we walked around the lake (and saw a number of tubby men swimming) we passed a gym that had a sort of "gazelle" machine, where you stand on two platforms and swing your legs forward and backward. We hopped on and tried our best, giggling. As we gave up, an elderly Chinese man biked over and jumped onto the machine in full street-clothes and started swinging away -- very seriously.

We kept wandering past an intersection where a small cafe/grilling place where a noxious smell was emanating. It was horrible. Neither of us had the nerve to go and find out exactly what gave off such a stink. We kept moving and eventually ended up in a teensy reggae bar, covered in Jamaican paraphernalia and run by a very large Chinese man with amazing dreads -- a Reggasian, if you will.

We were the only customers so we made friends with the owner and had a great time with his dog. Keeping the party going, we tried to move on to another bar but realized that we just couldn't afford to go out in this touristy area. We ended up passing McDonald's again and got a couple of cokes and walked out to the lake where we sat and watched the boats.

We were about to head back when Josh claimed we needed to make one last stop. Walked into a divey bar and sat down. Almost immediately an incredibly drunk young woman turned around from her table and offered us some mysterious meat in a styrofoam container. "What is it?" I asked. "Kak kak" she says and grabs her tongue. I look at her confused. She gets out her phone, scrolls and presses some buttons and then shows me "duck." Duck tongue. I look at the meat again -- it looks like a tiny slab of salami with two tendons protruding from it. What the heck, it's my last night-- and I eat the tongue.

Not bad actually although, again, I don't understand who thought it would be a great idea to eat duck tongues. Drunk girl buys a round of shots and offers us another styrofoam container of meat.

Josh reaches in and throws a piece in his mouth -- and instantly regrets it. "You remember that smell of that grilling shop?" he splutters. I grimace. "It tastes just like that," he chokes, hastily slurping down beer.

"You have to try it," he says. Are you kidding? After that review??? But I do since it's only fair.

The girl bolts out the door, leaving her quiet and fairly sober friends behind. They don't speak any English so we don't really continue the conversation (despite her drunkenness, the duck-tongue-offerer spoke pretty decent English and translated for everyone).

Unamused by us.

She reappears 15 minutes later and hands me a tassel of some sort with a very Chinese decoration on it. I have no idea what it is. She picks up her phone and I see that it has several similar tassels. I get out my phone and she adorns it for me. She had specifically run home to get it for me as when we'd exchanged emails earlier and I had used my phone to record hers, she'd noticed my phone was appallingly naked.

Drunk girl then jumps up and again runs to the bar and suddenly there is a round of shots called "duckass" (well why not -- we just had duck tongue) sitting in front of us. They tasted a bit like Kahlua and ohhh boy did they mark the end of our evening.

We stumbled back to the hotel. I attempted to let the front desk I'd need a taxi to the airport in the a.m. No luck, figured I'd try again in the morning.

Couldn't believe it was time to go home when I woke up. Since Craig and Eve were going that day to the Great Wall and the weather looked gorgeous, Josh chose to go with them. Can't see too much of it! We said good bye and I packed. I was excited and sad.

Performed an intricate mime of "hailing a taxi" and stretched out my arms, made a "vrrrrooom" noise and mimed taking off. The desk girls just put one hand over their mouths, pointed and tittered. Eventually, I gave up and headed out to a main street, luggage in tow. A taxi stopped for me and I showed him my guidebook where it said airport. He nodded briskly and off we went. Ten minutes later... he turned around to ask me where I wanted to go. I now know he meant which airline/terminal but at the time, I again tried to show him "airport" and my ticket, etc. until he stopped by the side of the street, got out, asked a stranger a question and got back in again. We made it to the airport.

I had about two hours to kill and tons of postcards to write so I sat down with lunch to write them. Probably wrote at least a dozen when I looked up and realized my plane was leaving in twenty minutes! I paid and bolted from the restaurant, asking a woman where a post office box was. She directed me to the center of the terminal. I sprinted over, tossed in the cards and RAN down the terminal. Of course my plane was at the very last gate which looked like half a mile away. I'm panting, passing flight status monitors showing my flight as "Final Call" -- I sprint up to the desk and I've just made it (although there were about 5 people who showed up right behind me). This is it. In 13 hours I'll be back in New York.

The plane ride feels too fast. I snooze a little, try to watch a Chinese movie and "National Treasure." We go up and over the Arctic, which is kind of wild. Coming over land in New York, seeing all the large, perfect houses below is surreal. How am I home already? Owen is there to meet me. The drive back to David's apartment is filled with wonder and weirdness -- all the new movie billboards, the cars are so American, the houses so clean and huge. The clean streets and silvery skyscrapers. It's all familiar but feels off. The three and a half months slipped by just like that. It felt like it had just been days since I'd woken up on my first morning in Mumbai, terrified to even step outside and now I was climbing the stairs to David's apartment and collapsing in his bed. It was lovely to be home but I wanted more time. I felt like I ran through 7 countries at breakneck speed. I should have taken more planes and spent less time on buses. There was still more I wanted to see. How can it be over?

No one got my postcards from China...and my banana chip bag is still intact. I guess I just have to plan a new trip sometime in the near future. Eventually those chips will be mine.

Hanoi, Vietnam

2008-06-09T03:24:00.001-07:00

Leaving the airport for downtown was simple enough until we hit a terrible traffic jam trying to get into Hanoi -- on a road leading past giant factories (Canon etc). There was an accident on the bridge and once we cleared that, it was smooth sailing. Interesting mix of people in the van, mostly Asian but from all over the place: Hong Kong, Malayasia, etc. Everyone joked about the traffic, speaking English and once again I realized how fortunate I was to speak such a connecting language, but also sad that my grasp of other languages is so weak. I was constantly amazed on my trip by how just about everyone I met had some English, if not fluent (well… that is until I got to China).

As we crossed through downtown Hanoi, it occurred to me that yet again I’d arrived in a country with no hotel reservation… nor really any idea of where to look for a guesthouse. I don’t think that when I started out, I would have ever thought I’d just play it off the cuff like this. But then again, I’d only booked the first night in Mumbai and gone from there.

I chose to get off the bus in a rather backpacker-friendly area and walked down the street, peering into various hotels. Guesthouses were in abundance. I stopped at a cheery one but they quoted me approximately 15 dollars a night. I started to walk away and they said since it was not busy, I could have it for 10 a night. Score! My room was very nice. Two beds, cable tv, minifridge, HOT shower. Free internet access in the lobby. I showered and changed and headed out to find food. A couple blocks up I found a roadside pho stand (addiction!) and was invited to sit down by the owner.

Two gentlemen sitting nearby engaged me in conversation, or at least tried. I got out my Lonely Planet Vietnam book and tried out phrases with them and soon learned I needed work. Such a good meal… I know I already mentioned that pho is rice noodles in a beef broth. They bring you a plate piled high with basil, mint, and bean sprouts which you dump in to your liking. Usually there is pepper sauce at hand for spicing up and cheap beer. I think this meal runs about two bucks max… depending on the beer.

I was having a great time… I had passed a couple of bars packed with Westerners on my way to the pho stand but I think my time sitting with the locals was much more pleasant and memorable. And I love how the Vietnamese women seem to throw on their pajamas as soon as it’s after 4 pm.

(guy on left was the one helping with my Vietnamese)

On my walk back to the hotel, a young Vietnamese man on a spiffy Vespa passed me and smiled. When I reached my hotel, he had circled the block and pulled up next to me. He introduced himself as Huy (sort of sounds like Who-eh), asks where I am from and invites me to go to a discothèque with him. Says he has a sister in New Jersey so he likes to meet Americans and practice his English. I’m not sure why, but I decided to take him up on it. It wasn’t that terribly late and it was Saturday night after all. And how often do I get invited to Vietnamese discothèques?

He hands me a helmet and we zip off into the night. The club is located on a dock on the Song Hong River about five minutes away. Huy parks his Vespa among the throng of motorbikes and we head towards the pounding music. It wasn’t exactly a local’s hangout as I was greeted by a sea of mostly Caucasian faces. Huy introduces me to an artist friend of his and later we danced. It was a fun club but it was also incredibly hot and I was tired. Huy took me home and offered to take me on a tour of Hanoi the next day. What better way to see the city but with a local and on a Vespa? I agreed and he said he’d pick me up at 10.

The next morning, sure enough, Huy rolled up at 10 and we set off. First we toured around the neighborhood with its French colonial buildings covered in creeping vines. Zipped past women selling bread and various fruits.

He took me to a Canon store to replace the battery charger I’d left in Rachel’s bathroom as well. As we hopped back on the bike, however, Huy noticed a nail in his tire so off we went to get it fixed. While waiting, we sat and had a soda and Huy serenaded me with various songs on his cell phone, including Elton John’s "Something about the Way You Look Tonight." Once it was fixed, it was time for lunch so Huy took me to his favorite Sunday pho lunch spot where we sat with other locals. I could tell he was getting a good-natured ribbing from the guys outside for bringing me. It was really quite good pho but I actually liked the pho at the stand from the night before better. Next stop was one of many temples. To get to it, we had to cross a particularly busy street and Huy kept me to one side of him as we stepped out into traffic. It was still unnerving to just walk out into traffic, as you’re supposed to, giving the mopeds enough time to go around you. If you wait for a hole, you’ll never cross the street.

We drove around the small lake in the center of Hanoi and to the Vietnam War Museum.

It’s a strange experience to wander around a museum with someone who may or may not have relatives who were the enemy of American soldiers. Strange to see the Vietnamese side of it – pictures of massacres and US soldiers doing terrible things. Huy and I had a short talk about it but our conversation started to get a little tense and we headed to the café for some iced coffee. There was a tower outside overlooking a sort of art piece made up of crumpled US aircraft and other wartime prizes so we climbed up to look out over Hanoi.

Back on the Vespa and zipped over to a temple on the lake. There were a lot of shrines where people burned incense as well as fake money to send to their ancestors and dead loved ones. The shrines also contained other various offerings such as chicken, bread and small bottles of liquor. You absolutely must take care of your ancestors.

Finally, we Vespa'd to the train station to get my Beijing train ticket but it was already closed. Huy dropped me back at my hotels so I could rest for a bit and we planned on meeting up later for dinner and playing pool -- his Sunday night tradition.

Next day, Huy was working so I was on my own. I struck out for a good walk around my neighborhood. I had noticed there had been a hat district nearby and I was intent on buying a straw fedora as I was certain that it was something nobody wore back in the states (boy was I in for a shock when I got home). However, the only one I found that was properly floppy and about the right color was too small. I came upon another that was okay but the brim was too wide. And I wasn't too crazy about the crown. The woman trying to sell me it wouldn't give up. I told her it the brim was too big and started to walk away when she seized a pair of scissors and cut into it then unwound the brim until it was the correct width. But now it looked terrible. I didn't know what to do -- I also didn't have enough cash on me. I went to an ATM and then decided to just not return. I feel badly about it, but... I didn't really want it and didn't ask her to mutilate it for me. I walked until I realized I was nowhere near the train station, which was my original intent. The streets tend to wind around in loops around the lake and I had no idea where I was. I hailed a moped driver who took me to the station, only for me to realize I didn't have my passport and of course they were going to want to see it. Idiot. Hopped another moped all the back to my hotel and back to the station, scared I was going to miss getting a ticket. No problem though and soon I was booked. Decided to walk back even though the steaminess was really hitting its afternoon peak. Back in my own neighborhood, I came upon an intersection of several streets with "bars" on each corner. By bars I mean there was a small store with a keg inside and chairs facing out towards the street. A beer was approximately 40 cents. It wasn't the best beer but it was nice to just relax and watch the rather hectic world literally zoom by -- in cars, tuk-tuks, bikes, mopeds etc.

Beer Lady.

Family outing. Pfff, Indians could get at least three more people on.

Since I had not yet had pho that day, I proceeded up the street for my favorite dish at my favorite roadside cafe. Later that night, Huy came by to take me out. We took a night time drive around the city (Huy was also helping me with my hat hunt, with no luck) -- out by the lake I noticed an interesting phenomenon. Parked alongside the lake every 15 feet was a young couple passionately necking, either leaning up against the lake's railing or sitting on their moped. Truly the entire park was strewn with young lovers kissing. Huy explained that most people live with their parents well into their adult years and have nowhere to go to make-out. So they go to the parks. It was hysterical. We headed to Huy's favorite lounge/ bar for a farewell drink as I would be leaving tomorrow before he got off work.

The next morning, I packed up and went out wandering again. My train wasn't until the early evening so I had some time to kill.

Apparently the Vietnamese have already written off Britney (this is a funeral stone store)

Sorely low on reading materials for the two-day train trip (and the last few guesthouses I'd stayed in didn't appear to have a book exchange) I stopped at a bookstore and then wandered around a mall. I continued my walk, and realized I had stumbled upon an area with a number of chain stores and restaurants and that I was standing in front of a Gloria Jean's. I had worked at a GJ's for years in college and now a "Chiller" sounded perfect for the hot and humid day.

Picked up some treats for the train, went back to the hotel for some last minute interneting and to get some lunch. A cab picked me up and I was off. I was feeling kind of apprehensive and low at this point. Beijing was next and Beijing was last. I was going home in a week. How could it only be one week?

Laos

2008-06-09T03:23:00.003-07:00

We roll into the border crossing at about 8 a.m. Drowsily, I try to negotiate through customs. No one has any pens. Finally through, I have no idea where I’m supposed to find my bus afterwards. Eventually I follow a woman who’d been on my bus down a misty road until we find it parked to one side. We clamber in and off we go to Vientiane, another six hours or so.

I’m too tired to be picky on finding a place to stay when I arrive and wander into one of the first guest houses I see. The entire family is gathered around the television. I’m shown to my room and then I have to immediately get to work on another Vietnamese visa for when I head to Hanoi. I head out to find an agency to book a flight from Vientiane to Hanoi on Thursday and then wander down by the Mekong for late lunch/early dinner. A British family sat near me and their children were enthralled by the heat lightning across the river. They would chant and wave their arms like tiny magicians, “Lightning come! Come lightning!” until the lightning would flash and they’d beg their parents to see if they were watching their show.

The sun disappeared and the mosquitoes came out so I headed back towards my guesthouse after a short tour around the area I was staying. Tried unsuccessfully to clean sensor but help was on the way! Jess was sending sensor cleaner via DHL to Vientiane (which was the main reason I was coming back to Ventienne to pick it up) and it would take four days to arrive. Hurray!

Next morning, I had a early a.m. bus to meet for my 3 hour trip to Vang Vieng. It’s funny how a three hour bus ride sounds like a blip after 7-17 hour bus rides. I didn’t have time for breakfast so I popped my malaria medication (“Malaaaria! Ma-laaaar-iiii-aaaah” – “Aquarius” is yet again stuck in my head) and got ready to head out. 10 minutes later, I’m vomiting in the toilet. I think back to the boat ride in Vietnam and the fact that that morning I’d also popped a malaria pill with just a banana in my tummy. I vowed to never take a malaria pill on an empty stomach again.

Bus picked me up nearby and we were off. Laos is gorgeous – green and hilly… and, allegedly, the most bombed country on earth.

Arrived in Vang Vieng to a slightly overcast day. It was still early so I piled on my bags and trekked towards the riverside where the guesthouses (many of them brand new) have sprung up. Vang Vieng is a small town on the river with amazing limestone cliffs jutting up out of mostly flat ground everywhere you look. It has a number of cave temples to explore but in recent years it has become known for one thing on the backpacker circuit: tubing. For about five dollars, you rent a tube and a waterproof bag and a tuktuk takes you upriver and dumps you off for a three mile tubing trip. After a breakfast of eggs and delicious French bread (much like the Vietnamese French bread) and a banana shake, I believe it’s time to go tubing.

I’m packed into a tuk-tuk with a couple of Australian boys who have apparently been in VV for weeks. All they do is tube and drink every day. We are dumped off at the starting point and I follow them into the muddy water. We are maybe in our tubes and floating for 2 minutes when we come up on the first river-side bar. As I’m floating past, a young boy throws a rope out to me, which I grab and he pulls me in. I guess I’m stopping. The bar’s dock is teeming with backpackers. They’re all very young and literally drinking out of buckets of booze. I get myself a beer and hang out, trying to look approachable but I’m feeling out of place. Everyone’s drunk and climbing up a ladder to swing on a trapeze or diving into the river or swinging down a firefox cable. I notice a man with a video camera and think that looks like a disaster waiting to happen. Eventually I give up and head out onto the river again. A second bar comes into view and again I’m reined in. This time a group of British girls attempt to befriend me until a guy walks up to them and they all get into a drunken argument about politics.

Eventually, a New Zealander befriends me and we chat a bit before getting back into the river. As we approach the third bar, a slight drizzle starts. The NZ guy beckons me to join him and although the Brit girls also asked me to join them, I went with the Kiwi because he was slightly less intoxicated/annoying. His friends are camped out on a roofed-over platform and I climb up to join them. On the next platform over, I recognize the Australian guys from my tuk-tuk ride. They’ve got about 10 guys crammed under their roof and they’re getting progressively more rowdy and boisterous. Just as I’m introduced to the people on my platform (all either from NZ or Australia), the boys next to us start singing, shouting and jumping on their platform, which gives way with a resounding crack! The guy I'm sitting next to, another Australian, growls with contempt towards the now scrambling guys next door, “Fucking Americans.” I look at him pointedly and ask, “I’m sorry, do you hear one American accent over there? Just one?” The guy hears my own accent (since I hadn't spoken previously) and blanches. “Uh…no.” I scowl at him, “In fact, I believe those are YOUR countrymen.”

When the rain stops, we head out again. This time drifting past the next couple of bars. It’s starting to get chilly when I see the final bar with a terrifically high up trapeze. There’s a bonfire roaring so I get out to warm up – which was probably not a good idea because I then dreaded getting back into the water. Then... well... I decided to try out the trapeze.

Ah, to live in a country with no liability… where water, alcohol and trapezes mix. Don’t worry, I was sober. The trapeze was wicked. You swing back and forth for a bit and then drop into the river – a very deep part of the river. I did it twice. The sun was starting to set then so I gathered up some of my new friends and we climbed back into the river. It got dark VERY quickly so we banded together, holding onto each others’ tubes. As we approached the town, a small child appeared like an otter next to us in the water. She grabbed our tubes and started hauling us towards shore. “I guess we get out here!” I said. We tipped the kid and walked back across the docks to the town. The bars were just getting started. I went back to my guest house to clean up and change and then went to the bar where one of my new friends had told me to meet them.

As I squeezed through the crowd, I passed the guy whom I’d seen with the video camera earlier and overheard him say “…New York…” and stopped in my tracks. “Hey,” I said, “Are you from New York?” “Yeah, I live in Greenpoint (Brooklyn).” I’d met very few Americans on my trip and none from New York so this was very exciting. I introduced myself and got to know Dex, who allegedly works for CurrentTV. Later, we stepped out into the street for a sandwich (so amazing!) and made plans to explore the caves together the next day.

Next morning, after some interneting, Dex rolled up on a rented moped and I hopped on. We scooted out of the tiny town over a small bridge and zipped out into the countryside to the first cave where we were immediately confronted by small children demanding money for us to go the cave. I refused and tried to go around them and they blocked my way. Little jerks. I got irritated and Dex and I decided to skip this cave. We parked near a field because Dex had been told there was an interesting cave on the other side of it. Sloshing through rice patties is not easy in flip flops and I realized I had chosen my footwear poorly.

We couldn’t find the caves and sloshed back again. I noticed Dex had a habit of walking far ahead of me and I started to get irritated. We stopped for lunch and then went to find another cave temple. I took this picture as we scooted over a little bridge where children were jumping into the water below.

Arrived at the next cave temple to find that this time the locals had up a sign so at least it felt more legit (even though I’m sure it’s not legal) to give them money. We walked to the base of the limestone cliffs and I knew that I really had made a poor decision with the flip flops as it was pretty much a straight up climb to the caves. Again, Dex zipped ahead of me until he was out of sight and I was left negotiating wet rock, mud and the possibility of a broken leg with my stupid footgear. By the time I reached the entrance to the cave, Dex was already deep inside. I decided it was against my better judgment to follow him and stayed in the mouth of the cave – I’d prefer not to cash in my traveler’s insurance to get air-lifted out of Laos. The cave really was enormous, with a tiny Buddha in the center and I was disappointed I’d not worn my sneakers.

After about 45 minutes, Dex reappeared and we started to descend – which was even more difficult in flipflops and a camera bag. I had to take the shoes off so I wouldn’t slip, I was stepping on jagged rock and I had to shift my bag down ahead of me for each level so I wasn’t wearing it and off-balance. And of course, Dex absolutely lended me no hand whatsoever and just hopped down the side of the cliff like a monkey and was relaxing on a picnic bench when I appeared. At this point, I was LIVID. I stalked past him to the creek nearby to rest my bruised and battered feet.

We rode back into town in mostly silence. A huge storm blew up and I hunkered down for a nap… not waking up until midnight. Nothing to do really but go back to sleep or go to a bar. I went back to sleep.

Monday, June 2nd

Decided I’d had enough of Vang Vieng and caught an early bus to Luang Prabang the next morning. While waiting for the bus, I met a lovely British girl named Rachel and we decided to sit together. We chatted all the way to LP and figured we might as well bunk together too. Found a guest house down a little alleyway, dumped our stuff and headed out to wander around. LP is adorable. Colonial buildings, temples and the lovely Mekong river flowing by. We wandered down main street and ended up stopping for tea and cookies (at US prices…sheesh) at a cute café. Ended up chitchatting with a nice older couple from Chicago before continuing our tour of town. Rachel currently lives and works in Ventienne for an NGO that specializes in fair-pay for women. The company she works for weaves beautiful scarves, which Rachel designs. She was taking a short excursion to LP to do a little research for design ideas.

We arrived late in the day and negotiated a tuk-tuk with several other tourists. Boy, do they try to get you, those drivers. He tried to demand 5 dollars a person. One person making 30 dollars for a 10 minute ride is just ridiculous. We negotiated down to 3 dollars a person which was still highway robbery. Frankly, I don’t even think taxi drivers in NYC make that much in ten minutes. We ended up on the main drag in Luang Prabang and wandered around until we found a guest house. Two little boys were playing Nintendo inside the main house and didn’t want to get up to help us. Eventually an older woman came out to greet us and Rachel talked to her. We were led back into a small courtyard and shown a little room.

As we set our stuff down and decided what to do with ourselves, a small ginger kitten appeared in the doorway. He heaved his roly-poly belly up over the doorframe and strolled right in like he owned the place. He was so tiny, snack-sized. So I named him Snack. We played with him for a bit until he piddled on the bed… then we decided to head out. Wandered around Main street to get a feel for the town, stopped in the internet café and then had dinner together at a fairly non-descript restaurant. A night market had set up while we were eating so we perused a bit and then headed back. We were both kind of pooped.

Tuesday, June 3rd

Luang Prabang is quite an adorable, French colonial-style village. The next morning we breakfasted at a cute little Scandinavian café where I had an amazing croissant sandwich. Afterwards, we checked out the main street and thought we’d hit up a temple, only to find that it was closed.

Instead, we explored a textiles shop and then headed halfway up Phu Si Mountain (not all the way up as to go to the top cost money and we weren’t feeling that up for the climb.

Later, we perused an outdoor market area and then headed around the corner to a textile museum nearby. Interesting place – featuring costumes of the many, many tribes in the area and continued down the main street until we came upon a café and decided it was tea time.

(really good ginger cookies and tea)

A middle-aged American couple sat next to us and turned out to be from Illinois. I ended up chatting with the woman and Rachel moved over to chat with the husband until I realized we were missing the golden hour of light. We headed towards the Mekong where we were chatted up by a snake-wine sales guy

(no thanks, we're full from cookies and tea!)

and sat for a long time watching the sun set over the fast-flowing river.

Dinner is a shared sandwich (yum!) and a couple of glasses of wine at a local bar.

(such good bread!)

Our waiter is…well… hot. Really hot. His name is John and chats with us quite a bit. He invites us to come by tomorrow night, if we’re interested, and he’ll take us to a local bar.

Wednesday

Up in the morning to find that Snack has a brother – Jack.

Also, there are two boys who appear to live behind our room, just off the courtyard and work for the guesthouse. Before we leave our room, I hear them practicing and singing, “Hotel California” – I just can’t get away from this song. Rachel had to do her own errands and research today so I decided it would be a good time to check out the local scenery.

Everything is so lush and green with gorgeous rolling hills, I thought it would be a good idea to rent a bike for the day (they do not rent mopeds to tourists). I struck out across town and tried not to get nervous by the mopeds whizzing by me. Way out beyond town I came to a fork in the road. I took a right first but after about 10 minutes the paved road became a dirt road which became a mud road, with mud so thick you could barely walk through it – forget biking. I turned around and headed back. Choosing the left fork this time, I had a little bit better luck with the road, although some mud got pretty extreme in places. At one point, I passed a couple of children.

I stopped on the side of the road to figure out where to go when the children passed me and ducked down a little side path. I decided to check it out, I could hear a brook and I was looking for waterfalls. After tying up my bike, I headed down the path and over a bamboo bridge. I wandered for a while before coming onto another bamboo bridge that was really quite scenic.

I stopped to take pictures when several children (not the same ones) appeared below, swimming. I think I startled them. They exited the water and ran past me, one of them pausing for me to take his picture.

I let them get ahead of me, enjoying the sounds of the burbling water – no traffic, no voices, nothing. Eventually I got up and continued down the path where I realized I’d basically walked onto someone’s farm. I waved nicely at the man sitting on the porch of his bamboo hut and turned and walked back. I thought I could hear a waterfall but never did find it. Back on the bike, I continued down the road for some time. The road was getting progressively muddier although the scenery was gorgeous. I really enjoyed the huts with little to no walls, and yet have satellite dishes parked on the thatched roofs. Pretty amazing. Eventually I had to turn around and bike back. It started to sprinkle a little on my way back so I decided to take a quick break in a roadside café where a naked boy frolicked in the dirt and climbed up onto a picnic table in order to aim his tiny boy bits out at passing traffic and urinate. The family was parked inside, watching television while lounging on ancient plastic chaise lounges, not minding their three year old boy playing pretty much in traffic. I noticed this a lot in my travels – small children were on their own as far as dodging traffic and, in India in particular, wandering livestock.

The rain didn’t amount to much so I headed back into town and had a sandwich at the Scandinavian bakery again. Stopped by the guesthouse where I heard a plaintive "mewing" noise to find poor Snack high above me on a fench.

Took him down and brought him in out of the mild drizzle.

Eventually caught up with Rachel and we got ready to go back to John’s café. We weren’t sure if we were going to get John into trouble if he went out with us but we were looking forward to the evening. When he was done with work, his friend Mark showed up and we hopped on the backs of their bikes and headed out. There is nothing quite like being on the back of a bike out in the country on a warm night with thousands of stars overhead. We whirred along, eventually coming to a bridge that was quite narrow. We zinged across and a moment later were at one of the ubiquitous SE Asian bars that are basically just an open-air shelter with tables surrounded by hundreds of plastic chairs.

John. Hel-lo! Look at those cheekbones.

Rachel and Mark

A good time was had, although we didn’t stay out too late as Rachel was getting up in the early a.m. to go back to Vientiane.

Thursday

Woke up in the early gray light. Rachel somehow got me out of bed. Every morning we’d been woken up around 5:30 or so by the sound of drums and Rachel told me I should come out and see the alms-giving to the monks. Sure enough there was a line of monks coming down the road, their saffron robes intense in the bleak gray dawn. I said goodbye to Rachel, who whisked off in a tuk-tuk

and was immediately approached by a local woman who wanted to sell me rice and bananas to give to the monks. I followed her instructions (watching some other foreign women doing the same) and sat on the curb, on my knees, feet pointing away from the monks. Silently, they came down the line, opening their bowls to receive the warm sticky rice and a banana.

I went through several containers of rice and bananas before realizing the local woman was royally gouging me. Making money off of alms-giving –the nerve! I refused to give her more money after that and she argued for a moment and then I think realized knew she’s already made a tidy bundle, might as well be “charitable” after that. Eventually the monks wandered back to their temple to eat and I went back to bed.

When I awoke again, it didn’t appear to be getting any nicer out, unfortunately, and today was the day I had booked a tour out to the waterfalls. I met my group after a quick bite at the Scandinavian café (the croissant sandwiches were so good but yeah, I was definitely in a rut) and we were loaded into a van. It wasn’t raining yet but there were some troublesome looking clouds on the horizon. We drove about 30 miles to the Kouangxi waterfalls. There was an enclosure on the walk up to the falls that housed Moon Bears. Pretty cute guys.

There was also a tiger enclosure but I didn’t see the tiger. The waterfalls were simply stunning. You could climb up to see them from above but it was too slippery so I stayed down.

Next, we drove to a Mekong Hill tribe village. This would have been interesting except for the begging for money. For every picture I took, I had to shell out dough. The little girls running around all had garish make-up on (blue eyeshadow and pink rouge).

I didn’t stick around long. Heading back to the van, I saw two girls no older than 8 (or younger?) coming towards me with babies literally strapped to their backs. I snapped a secret picture but the girls heard the camera and demanded money. I wanted out of there fast.

Back in town, I organized a flight back to Vientiane, internetted, uploaded photos and then went walking down by the Mekong.

I watched a couple of boys fishing and took their picture. They started smiling because they realized I was there.

The rain had stopped so there was a very pretty pink sunset. I walked back to John’s restaurant for dinner. John and Mark invited me to go out to a club with them afterwards and I said sure. Very interesting club, had a slide show for Malaysian Tourism going on while everyone was dancing. Mark offered to take me to the airport the next day. Home to bed just as it started raining again.

Friday morning – breakfast and packing, saying good bye to Snack and Jack. The guesthouse boys are practicing “Hotel California again but it’s not quite right. I grab my iPod and speakers and knock on their door. They look pretty happy when their song starts playing and the one with the guitar strums along as best he can. I go to meet Mark who works at a Tourism agency. He puts my camera bag around his neck and I get on back of his bike with my backpack on. It is starting to sprinkle, so I open my umbrella over us as I have seen other ladies do.

Let me tell you, not easy to keep an umbrella open on a moped.

The airport was quite small. I thanked Mark for the ride and went inside. Waiting for my plane, I watched a British couple with their three children. The mother was playing the high-five game with her young son (maybe two years old?) but she wasn’t about to let him win. “High five (slap), up high (slap), down low (he tries to slap, she yanks her hand away) too slow!” At first he was delighted and demanded another go. But after a half dozen times, he was livid – and yet she kept going! This should have been a really annoying spectacle but the entire waiting room was entranced. How long was she going to continue to pull the rug out from under him. The child was turning red faced “Mummy!!!!” Dad was trying not to laugh. Again, again they played, and she didn’t let him win. The child was losing his mind. Finally, the little boy sees a window of opportunity and grabs his mother’s hand when she brings it low and forces her to keep still so he can slap her hand. I think it was a good life lesson – not even your mother is gonna let you win so you have to take things into your own hands.

Back in Vientiane, I headed to my former guesthouse and picked up my Vietnamese visa. Then it was off to DHL to pick up my sensor cleaner that Jess had sent! Hurray! She also, very thoughtfully, had sent along a ginormous memory card that would no doubt last me the rest of the trip. Clutching my booty, I then went to the Airline agency to check on my reservation for that evening. Unfortunately, I had lost it since they hadn’t heard from me! I could go out the next day so I organized with Rachel to stay the night with her. Wandered about Vientiane a little bit – not really much to see.

Stopped for some roadside noodles then went to meet up with Rachel at the chain coffee shop near the main tourist drag and went to dinner around the corner. There were some exceedingly drunken girls in the bar area of the eatery. They provided quite the entertainment with their weaving and slurring and falling on their male friends. Back to Rachel’s flat in a very nice hotel run by the woman she worked with. We chitchatted until the wee hours.

The next morning I hiked across town to a market. I was having a severe luggage problem and this market sold just about everything. Picked up some Beer Laos tshirts and a cheap wheeled duffle. Walked back to the flat and repacked then it was off to the airport for my flight to Hanoi. I was sad to not get a chance to say goodbye to Rachel and see where she worked but I ran out of time. Upon arrival at the airport, I realized I was way over the baggage limit at this point. I did my best to stash everything. I also had a bit of Laos money left so I hit the Duty-Free shop for some Laos coffee for Dad and two packages of some unknown substance that had centipedes on the front for David and Owen. Flight was uneventful but the scenery was so lovely and green.

Southern Vietnam

2008-06-09T03:23:00.001-07:00

Next morning, a van picked me up for my journey to Vietnam. We had an hour by van to the Mekong River where we’d make the rest of the trek by boat. We were on the first boat for about 45 minutes before stopping at the border where we passed a group of Western tourists making the exact opposite journey. After customs, we had a quick bite to eat and boarded a new boat. The ride down the river was relaxing. We passed other boaters and many young boys and girls swimming.

When we arrived in Chau Doc we were picked up by men in bicycle rickshaws. Oh crud, I thought, remembering Chad’s decree. It turns out they were already paid for, so I didn’t fret too much. We were then taken through the rather personality-less town to a personality-less hotel and dropped off with the promise that we’d be picked up the next morning at 6:30 a.m. for a trip up to a mountainside temple and our next boat ride.

I dumped my stuff off in my room and headed out to wander around the town. First stop was an ATM where I had my first experience with a lot of dong. And, as you might have figured, the first of many dong-related jokes. (censor for grandmother) It was a little nerve-wracking to take out millions of dong. I didn’t find much in the way to do in the town so I decided to stop for a late lunch and try my first roadside pho. On the corner near my hotel was a woman with a plastic table dishing out steaming noodles in bowls.

I gestured I’d have one and she grinned at me and waved me to sit down at her table. She ladled out the noodles and poured in the broth with some sort of mysterious meat. She then added basil and mint leaves and sprouts. It was really delicious and I knew at that moment I'd be eating a lot of pho while in Vietnam. As I stuffed my face, the woman was chatting with her friend, laughing and gesturing at me. She then reached out and tugged at my cheek. I don't think anyone's done that since I was a baby.

After my dinner, I was feeling pretty tired so I returned to the hotel to veg for a little bit. I watched some dreadful movie while lying on my bed with the balcony door open. It was still early so I went out again to check my email in an internet cafe filled with screaming little boys playing video games against each other. Southeast Asia seems to be the online gaming capitol of the world. And the Vietnamese language screamed by little boys at each other? Terrifying. Later there seemed to be a commotion happening outside the cafe. Just around the corner a building was going up in flames. The entire town seemed to have turned out to watch. I ran into an Israeli girl who had been on my boat and we decided to get a bit of dessert before heading back. However nothing was open so we resorted to a cocktail and a nice chat.

I realized the next morning that when I had sat watching the movie with the balcony open, I had been bitten on almost every square inch of my legs from the knee down (where my camo pants/capris end).

After a quick breakfast, we were packed into a van and driven up Sam Mountain (most of the way) and walked the remaining steep hill to a beautiful temple overlooking miles of rice paddies. Back in the van, our guide proposed to me (I was seated up in front with him) and spent the next 45 minutes trying to convince me to marry him. We were driven back to the waterfront where women in face masks helped us into wooden skiffs they then guided out into the river, standing over us.

We docked at what looked like a floating house with a patio but was in fact a fish farm. In the center of the patio was a large cutout that was literally teeming with fish. Our guide tossed a handful of fish food in to the hole and the fish went bananas.

Next, we boarded our skiffs again and were taken to a small village where we learned a little about the weaving they did there but mostly were pressed into buying souvenirs. I had met two young men from Utah on my tour who were named Braiden and Braden. Nice kids, still in college and roaming around Southeast Asia on their break. They both decided to buy the iconic triangle hat and since it's really only women who wear it, two little girls pointed and giggled at them and asked sweetly, "Sisters?"

This time we were rowed out to a larger boat but first I managed to lose my sunglasses by removing my hat, which had my sunglasses underneath. Plink! Right into the Mekong. My lady rower made a valiant effort to grab them before they submerged but failed. Once on the larger boat, the Bra(i)dens and I retired to the top deck despite the looming dark clouds. Soon lunch was served and we docked long enough for me and a French girl and her parents to be kicked off to continue our tour up to Can Tho. We just made it into the van when the heavens opened. Something about a car ride in pouring rain... and I'm instantly asleep.

Woke up as we arrived in Can Tho, and was not too pleased with my hotel. It appeared to be still under construction and the entrance was down a narrow alley way lined with what appeared to be stalls selling hardware. They had booked me into a room with a stranger and I balked. For three more dollars I could have my own room so I decided to splurge. I guess I still hadn't recovered from my parasite infection and I was still often exhausted. I fell asleep for an hour or two, had bizarre dreams and woke up with no idea where I was. Stepped out to walk around a little although it was getting dark and the area of Can Tho I was in was pretty personality-less, stopped into a strange grocery store/shopping mall to stock up on snacks and then went to find dinner. Along the waterfront (which was much nicer) was a little restaurant where I recognized my hotel's desk clerk enjoying his meal. He waved me in and recommended the snake. I waffled but figured it was now or never. I decided to go with the fried snake. When it came out, I have to say I wished it didn't look so snakey.

It didn't really taste like much...chewy with a vague fishy-ness. I only got through (well... half of it) because of the cilantro thrown on it and copious amounts of beer. When I gave up, my waiter asked if I'd like to try the snake wine. Sure, why not. He came back with a small shot glass of whiskey-looking drink. I threw it back, tasted like a currant-y liquor of some type.

I asked what sort of snake was used and he said black snakes mostly and gestured to the back of the restaurant. There, sitting up on a counter, was a large glass jug filled with coiled dead black snakes nestled in a brownish liquid. Thank goodness I saw that jug after I'd had the wine.

An Australian couple had seated themselves nearby and also seemed to be enjoying copious amounts of beer. We got to chatting and eventually I left my table to join them (we were the only people in the restaurant). They told me about the various taxi ripoffs they'd run into so far in Vietnam. One taxi driver tried to tell them that their 15000 dong ($1) fare was actually 15 US dollars (and they'd only been in the car for about 5 minutes) and they had to get their tour guide to argue with him. Next time they got in a cab they realized the fare was going up too fast and the taxi driver was going in circles. Now I was really wary of all Vietnamese transportation. Turns out we were all part of the same tour group so we headed back to the same hotel. I realized tomorrow I'd have to find a bar to watch the Man U game at midnight.

Next morning, we had a boat tour of the floating market and a noodle factory. I didn't have time to run out and find breakfast so I popped my malaria medicine (particularly concerned about all those mosquito bites) and ate a banana (while singing, "Malariaaaaa, ma-lar-i-aaaaa" to the tune of "Aquarius" from Hair... which I sung almost every day). Our group was guided to the waterfront where we got on a narrow boat and headed down river.

Somewhere along the ride I knew something was going terribly wrong in my innards. My gut bubbled and wheezed and suddenly I felt my face prickle. I thought it might be the snake turning on me. All too familiar with this sensation (although it had been 2 months), at the last possible moment, I casually got up from my seat and headed to the very back of the boat as if just checking out the view and the watercrafts out on the river and when I was sure the motor drowned me out and no one was watching, oh look! what is that in the water? -- I heaved my banana over the side. I felt instantly better except for wondering what was that about? I blamed the snake and sat down again.

First stop was the floating market, which was such a disappointment. All the guide books show it as this picturesque event where women in conical hats float about in their skiffs filled to the brim with exotic fruits. In reality, the first boat was a father and son duo selling Coca Cola (which was actually pretty welcome in my current state). It was not picturesque.

We had to get into a smaller boat to maneuver around the "market," and I was not impressed. But we got more pineapple and that was okay.

(dirty DIRTY sensor!)

Next, back on the original boat, we putt-putted over to the rice powder factory

(which probably breaks every health code violation if it was in the US) and from there to a noodle factory that also seemed to double as a pig farm.

I had the unfortunate moment of walking around a bend in the path to come upon a farmer gutting piglets into the stream. After lunch (appetite was strangely still healthy), we headed back to the hotel to retrieve our luggage. It was time to head for Saigon.

I loved checking out all the roadside cafes in Vietnam as we hurled in a packed bus towards Ho Chi Minh City (I prefer Saigon). Every cafe featured a dozen tables or more with 2 or three hammocks hanging around each of them. Genius. I'm guessing this would not really catch on in America as we are not encouraged to linger at our eating establishments.

There was an older man on the bus who was placed next to me. He did not look well. I noticed that his back was covered in red welts from an Eastern therapy "Cupping."

Said goodbye to the Australians upon reaching HCMC. They were booked at a five-star hotel in town as it was the end of their trip and they felt like celebrating. Apparently, while web prices remained high, they had called the hotels directly and bargained with them. The hotel industry is suffering so much I guess they managed to get a room at a rockbottom price and were pretty pleased with themselves. As for me, I had been paying 6-10 bucks on hotel rooms per night for the past two months and couldn't fathom rejoicing over finding a five-star hotel room for 75 bucks. The bus took us directly to the most backpackery part of town. As is my habit, I didn't go for the guest house the bus company wanted us to stay in but instead took my gear and headed down the street. Every hotel owner beckoned me in, but eventually I settled for a nondescript place... and instantly regretted it. Not because there was anything wrong with it other then the fact that there were SCREAMING CHILDREN EVERYWHERE. There are several rooms on each floor but it's also very clearly someone's house, which is weird. It's got a very official lobby with check-in desk.. yet there are baby clothes hanging on a rack next to it, toys scattered and someone asleep on a floor mat. I collapsed in my bed for a few minutes and then went out in search of dinner. There was a barbecue joint across the way and I wanted to find a good place to watch the Champion League game between Man United and Chelsea. I sat down and saw that the game was already playing. That can't be right. It wasn't due to start until midnight. Then i realized... I was watching highlights from the game... that had played the night before. I'd gotten my dates mixed up. While I was out eating snake, I missed the darn game.

The barbeque was delicious but I was pretty annoyed with myself for missing the big game. Man United had one and apparently it had been an amazing game. I texted with BF (the only MU fan I know) about it (I also thought abou tmy poor little Irish boys from Chiang Mai and how sad they must be as Chelsea fans) and then headed downstairs and sat down at the bar for a drink. The jukebox was playing Led Zeppelin when a young man with a mohawk came up beside me to order a drink. He was British and invited me to join him and his friends outside. A couple of Americans, Brits, and Aussies, all pretty boozed up. They welcomed me into their fold.

Shortly, they decided it was time to go dancing and we piled into cabs to go to Apocalypse Now! (really) which turned out to be packed and over-priced. Sorry, I don’t pay six dollars for a beer…if I can help it. Particularly not in Vietnam. Luckily, I was not the only one annoyed so we left pretty quickly and returned to the original bar. One of the guys asked if I’d like to get brunch with him the next day and I agreed. I then walked back to the hotel to find it shuttered for the night. There was a button on the wall, which I pressed and a sleepy woman came to the door, unshuttered it and let me in. I stepped over her family members asleep on mats on the floor and crept upstairs. It was only 11 or so.

Next morning, I was determined to find a camera shop to a) somehow clean my sensor and b) restore my ailing memory cards. I was down to just one card working as the others were teeming with viruses, picked up from all the different computers I had been using across the world. And because I had only the one card working, I had to find an internet café every day to empty it. I walked around the neighborhood, found a huge electronics store but no luck with any camera cleaner. It was heating up already and the smell of durian fruit kept wafting past me. It is probably one of the most hideous smells in the world. This fruit smells like a latrine with dead fish in it. I’ve never tasted it because I don’t want to know what taste goes with that smell (although I guess one can’t really judge taste by smell or one wouldn’t eat cheese). I’d been smelling it since Thailand and even now when I wander through Chinatown and smell it, I’m right back in SE Asia.

I was supposed to meet the guy at 12 at the same bar/cafe from the night before. My wanderings had taken me a little farther from the café than I’d thought so I didn’t get there until 12:05. He was not there. I sat down to order a Vietnamese coffee, which I was quickly falling in love with. They bring a small glass to you with about a half inch of condensed milk at bottom and a small metal filter sitting on top. The coffee drips out very veeeeeery slowly. Still no date. I order breakfast – eggs and a baguette. Because of the French, the Vietnamese make some darn tasty baguettes – light and crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside – perfection with a little butter and jam. And the jam in Vietnam was much better than the jam in India, which tasted like Red Vines candy smushed up.

Date never showed up so I decided I’d better get out and see a little bit of Saigon. I had heard about the War museum from a couple of the guys last night. They were going to head there today so I thought I’d check it out. I decided to walk there, which truly tested my motorbike dodging skills. You wouldn’t believe how many there are. At a red light, literally hundreds bunch up, drivers waiting. They tend to wear hats, facemasks and gloves.

At first I thought it was because of pollution and then I realized they were a lot like the Indians in that they hid from the sun. Some even wore jackets with curious flaps that are intended to hang down over the tops of your hands. Out on the streets of Saigon, it’s like an army of pastel ninjas zooming around on their mopeds.

I arrived at the museum an hour before it was due to close. The weather looked like it was about to turn as well. The museum consists of a plane out front in the courtyard, a mock set-up of the “tiger pits” off to one side and an open layout room with walls full of graphic photos. Photos, I imagine, that were not shown in the US. Pretty awful stuff.

Just as I was finishing up in an outbuilding that was dedicated to photos by and of war photographers (many of whom died in action), the sky opened up. The downpour didn’t last long and eventually I emerged from the giftshop with the other museum patrons and headed back out into the streets. However, about half an hour later, it started to rain again which led me to witness the (I’m sure pretty frequent) sight of hundreds of moped drivers and their passengers abruptly pulling over to the curb to quickly throw on ponchos which they keep under the seat.

The rain was not letting up so I purchased a roadside poncho and kept walking home. Unloaded my overworked memory card at an internet cafe and headed to my hotel. Waiting for the rain to let up so I could go find dinner, I watched a little tv and then headed to bodega store on the corner for some snacks. There, I ran into the Mohawk boy who told me that he and his group were having a party in the girls’ room and I should join them. We pick up some beer and head to the hotel (but first I pick up a seriously tasty Vietnamese sandwich [banh mi] from a small cart outside) where the party is in full swing. Jack, the Texan, has instigated a drinking game of some sort, where you “race” cards to the finish line and the losers have to drink. There was a lot of “losing.”

By the way, the guy who stood me up was there. He said he showed up at the café but when I didn’t show, he left. Thanks for waiting five minutes, buddy. Finally, the guesthouse owner appeared and asked us to take the party elsewhere. It was 8 o'clock, after all and some people want to sleep. Back to the same bar as the last night, but on the second floor where there was dancing and a pool table. I decided eventually to call it a night (plus I didn’t want to stay out late and wake my hotel’s owner up again). It was pretty early but yet again, the hotel was closed up for the night.

(View from the club -- how about that wiring!)

Next morning, I continued my search for a computer store and found one! It was a dinky hole in the wall with a little nerdy guy working there (surprise! A computer nerd!). Or, not working actually as he was fully engaged in an online game when I walked in. He was very nice and it took awhile but eventually he figured out how to debug my cards AND my hard drives. Since it was taking some time to do each, I went down the street for some pho and then decided to hire a driver to take me to Reunification Palace, the scene of the end of the Vietnam War. Amazing building – the 1960s architecture and interior design is fantastic – shag rugs, orange and brown and avocado. Bars in the conference rooms. So great. The war rooms in the basement are pretty interesting as well.

My moped driver waited around for me and flagged me down when I came out. I guess business is slow -- best to hold onto your customers. Upon return to the computer store, I saw my trusty little nerd was done with my cards and hard drives and was reinstalling his computer (as it had become infested with viruses while trying to fix mine. We chatted a little – I asked if he had a girlfriend. He said no, nobody wants to marry a poor man. I gather up my stuff and nervously asked how much these hours of work were going to cost me. He goes to talk to his supervisor and comes back with a figure: 100,000 dong. Or six dollars. I happily gave him a ten dollar tip. Hopefully that’ll be a step towards getting a girlfriend. But considering he went right back to his computer game…probably not.

With a swing in my stride, I went back to the hotel to check on my stuff, check my email and get ready for my night bus to Nha Trang. Uploaded new pictures to flickr and decided to have dinner at an Italian place across the street. Drank wine while watching geckos lose their footing on the ceiling and plop suddenly to the floor - usually stunned but okay.

Bus stopped to pick me up around 9 p.m. I was immediately berated for getting on the bus in my shoes. I never remember that stuff. Vietnamese night buses are unlike Thai night buses in that they have narrow individual beds instead of reclining seats (this blogger has a good shot). There are three rows. I was limited in my choice as the bus was pretty full so I clambered up into the bunk by the door and tried to figure out where my stuff was to go. Not to mention my water bottle, ipod, etc. Turns out my bag goes behind the headrest area and you just have to sleep with your water, ipod etc. I climbed into my sleep sack and pulled the flimsy bus-supplied blanket over me.

And just like Thai buses, as soon as you’re falling asleep, they stop for dinner. Another bleary-eyed supper of pho and back on the bus. I didn’t sleep too well, surprise surprise, and in fact didn’t really fall dead asleep until just before I was rudely awakened as we entered Nha Trang (again... just like Thai buses). The morning sun was extremely bright through the windshield and the bus stopped abruptly to let us out at their chosen hotel. I was completely disoriented, unable to grasp exactly what was going on, and I was not the only one. A blonde Canadian woman and her equally blonde but silent boyfriend/husband were trying to wake up and get their stuff off the bus as well. The driver was cantankerous, shouting at us to hurry up. Nobody wants to wake from a dead sleep at 6 a.m. while getting shouted at! Bewilderment faded, replaced by irritability and I shouted back as I grabbed my bag from under the bus. The Canadian girl told me had no intentions of staying at that hotel and was in fact meeting some friends at a different hotel so I asked to if she'd mind if I followed her and her bf. She introduced herself as Sharon and the guy was actually just a friend she’d met in Saigon, a rather quiet New Zealander named Craig. We got to know each other as we hiked through the mostly silent streets, enjoying the early morning sun. Saigon had been rather overcast most days. Nha Trang was also different in that there was little to no traffic. The hotel was a block from the beach, which was exciting! We checked in and found out that Sharon’s friend was actually staying with Craig’s friend. They’d met in Saigon and apparently...um... hit it off. Our room wasn’t ready yet, so the hotel put us in another room so we could sleep until check-in. But Craig and I were no longer tired so we left Sharon to go find breakfast. More coffee, more baguettes later, we went back, found a groggy Sharon, moved into the room we decided to share as it had three beds and hit the beach. I went down to a street corner where I’d seen a man with an air-pump and petrol for motorbikes in order to fill the raft I’d been carrying with me for the past 2 weeks. I knew it’d come in handy at some point! Sharon and Craig had found some lovely chaise lounges and were fending off the local women trying to sell them fruit, candy, trinkets, etc. The raft was a big hit.

Strange beach. There was a steep dropoff only feet from the shoreline. The water wasn’t terribly warm either. But it was certainly pretty.

We were there most of the day. Mark and Delmelza eventually appeared (very smiley) as well as another girl (whose name I am afraid I can’t recall). We went out to dinner together that evening where we tried the delicious local Dalat wine. Next, we found a nightclub that was not terribly busy, but had local children on the dance floor. I tried to take a picture and was reprimanded by the staff.

Then we went to a more backpacker-friendly establishment where we drank some sort of crazy concoction out of a coconut and played pool… badly.

Craig and I faced off with a Vietnamese shark-lady. She was ruthless and very uptight about the rules… unless she broke them. She was winning until she sank the white ball at the end of the game and furiously stomped off.

Next morning, we had decided to go on the three island boat trip. We were picked up early and taken to the docks. Our guide/boat captain was a very genial fellow who was wearing some American from Michigan’s cast-off “Class of 03!” high school senior class t-shirt, complete with the “03” on the back filled with teenage signatures. The first island we went to was for snorkeling. No sea lice this time. The kids were jumping off the roof deck of the boat into the water. I tried it and promptly lost my bikini top. The second stop was an island that had about 4 feet of beach on it. We had about an hour there, Sharon and I put down our towels and were promptly sprayed with sand by the kids playing soccer… on the four feet of beach. Also happening on the four feet of beach? Parasailing. We watched as a young woman is strapped into vest, the parasail on the ground behind her. At the signal, the power boat out in the bay would jerk forward and a man pulling the rope just ahead of the woman would yank her into a run and then DIVE into the water to avoid her feet as she’s whipped up into the air. The entire ride appeared to only last about 6 minutes. After watching them return from a swing out and around the bay and the woman floating lightly down into the water where she’s immediately picked up in the boat and brought back, I was sold. I hopped up and went over to the beach workers. How much? Fifteen bucks. Deal. Before I could ask how long the wait was, I was being strapped into a vest! I ran back to the towels to get my money – Sharon and Craig looked astounded at my brashness. In the next minute, I was hooked up, yanked into a run and flying off my feet up into the clouds. Some people hang on to their straps but I spent most of my ride in the “starfish” position

Back on land, exhilarated and breathless, I sat with Sharon, nibbling on ice cream and watching other riders going up.

That poor man who pulls the riders into a run before the rope tightens and the fly up into the air (ON FOUR FEET OF SAND) just keeps diving under the waves at the knick of time in order to not get knocked in the face by flailing legs. He’d shake himself off and wait for the return of the boat. Now that’s a hard job.

Back on our boat, it was lunch time. And lunch was sea urchin soup. There had been a big bucket full of living sea urchins when we’d gotten on the boat and now I knew why.

Not too bad. Also glorious slices of pineapple one dunks into a pile of red pepper salt. Then they cleared off the group table, set up a rudimentary drum kit and brought out a guitar and microphone - apparently it was karaoke time! Only it was all Vietnamese songs… and there were only 3 Vietnamese tourists on the boat. The rest were white and bewildered. But we nodded along and eventually he sang a Beatles song so we could join in.

At the third island, we anchored and our captain leaped into the water. His shipmates tossed him a floating Styrofoam “bar” a couple bottles of “wine” and some plastic cups. Inner tubes were tossed into the water for us to use and we were invited to “join him at the bar.” “Taste like Petrol! Buy at petrol station! Terrible wine!” And yes, it was pretty bad but our captain was very funny.

From http://www.joelcarillet.com/photoblog (this guy looks remarkably like our captain)

The final stop was an aquarium. It was actually not too shabby. Huge sea turtles swam in lazy circles in a pool outside. There was one main tank inside filled with “businessmen fish” (all very fast, have places to go, people to see, busy busy busy, okay everybody go that way!) and other gorgeous sea creatures as well as individual tanks. Eventually it was time to head back to shore. I decided to take a night bus to Hoi An that evening, as did Mark and Craig. Sharon and Delmelza would take a day bus the next day. My bus was due to leave at 8 so I grabbed myself some dinner and waited outside the hotel for my ride. Everybody else went to dinner. I waited and waited. No bus. There was a family who owned a little sidewalk stand set up nearby. Their two children came over to play near me. I got out my camera and they posed up a storm. I’d give them a pose and they’d strike it. “Okay! Now do Blue Steel!” I’d pout my lips and squint my eyes, and they’d do the same. Adorable.

Then they’d practically tackle me, jumping into my arms and scrambling up into my lap in order to look over the pictures. I took so many photos, I asked their father for his email so I could send them. Finally, he took my picture holding the kids and as he put the camera down, he smiled at me with his children and said, “You take? Souvenir of Vietnam?”

The bus was so late that Sharon, Craig etc were coming back from dinner when it arrived. Craig’s own bus was due soon and as it turns out, later that night, when we stopped for sleepy midnight pho, Craig’s bus pulled in just as we were finishing up. Another crack of dawn arrival found me stumbling around the lovely, sleepy town of Hoi An, looking for lodging. I stopped at a nice hotel but its proximity to the smelly river behind it made me hesitant. The desk clerk allowed me to store my bags while I went looking for food and a tour of town. I emailed Craig to see where he ended up and then found a cute café where I could sit outside and watch the women in conical hats with wooden rods over the shoulders carrying great baskets of bananas and other produce to market.

Coffee, baguette and postcards, I sat there for some time. On my way back to the hotel, I took a turn through the market and started noticing the storefront after storefront of custom made clothing. Hmmm. I stopped in one that had a very nice medium weight coat out front. I found out I could have a custom-made coat in any material, lined, for 30 dollars. Deal! I picked out a mustard wool and instantly, the woman running the store went to work measuring me. You know, while I’m at it, why not a pencil skirt? Always wanted one. In Thai silk? Why not! 15 dollars each? How about two in black and blue shot with pink. How about a blouse and a pair of slacks? But of course! A bit lighter in the pocket, I was told to come back at 5 for my first fitting.

Went back to the internet café and discovered that Craig had arrived and was staying in a gorgeous hotel not far away with A POOL. Now, let me tell you it was in the 90s, and steamy (believe me, I was not looking forward to the fitting of the wool jacket later) and a pool sounded amazing. I went back for my stuff, apologized to the clerk that I’d found my friend at another hotel and wandered over. Craig and Mark were poolside and it was gorgeous. The hotel room was fifteen a night, which was a bit steep for my blood, but I figured it wouldn’t kill me to have soft clean sheets, a/c, cable, gorgeous furniture and the bathroom! OH THE BATHROOM! Modern toilet (no squatting!), gorgeous huge bathtub…and all sparkling clean! I joined the boys by the pool and then went to explore the town again before my fitting.

I was amazed to see how far along my clothes were already. The coat was basically done. The pants were a tad large around my hips and thighs. The shirt was perfect except…well… it was blue. I asked for a white shirt and it was plainly light blue. They insisted it was white. Humph. The skirts were really snug but I liked them.

On my way back to the hotel, I was lured into another shop by a pretty sundress. Next thing I know, I’ve ordered two sundresses and 2 silk dresses. Ridiculous. I rarely shop so I feel justified.

Back at the ranch, Sharon has arrived and is not terribly happy with the price of the hotel but the pool beckons. That night, we head out to find dinner at a cute restaurant on the waterfront after learning the place we wanted to go was closed. We're all feeling kind of beat so we call it an early night and headed back to the hotel. However, once we arrive, the pool looked so inviting that even though it was ten pm and it was most likely closed, we grabbed our suits and snuck in. It felt wonderful! On the way back to my room, I noticed that the door across the hall was open and there was quite a lot of commotion going on inside. There was a lot of swearing and squealing going on. A very muscular young man with a shaved head, popped his head out of the door when he heard my key and I said, “Is everything okay?” “We’ve got a huge fucking spider in here!” He opened the door and his girlfriend was standing up on the bed. I walked in and he pointed to the wall behind the door and yeah, that’s a "huge fucking spider." One of those bird-eating spiders with a body the size of an egg and a leg span the size of a large man’s hand.

In normal spider circumstances, I’d trap it under a glass and take it outside. The man suggested I hit it with a shoe, “Are you kidding?” I asked. “That thing would take the shoe away from you and beat you with it.” I looked around the room until I saw the waste basket. That would do. I popped the wastebasket over the spider and gently slid the waste basket down the wall until the spider got nervous and stepped inside. Then I whisked it upright and slapped a towel over the opening, expecting the spider to leap out and attack my face. Holding the basket at arm’s length and shuddering like mad, we all dashed out into the hotel corridor. But where to take the spider? No open windows to outside the hotel. Only to the pool. I shrugged and dumped the spider into a bush by the pool. Hope I don’t see that thing sunning itself on the chaise lounge next to me the next day. Excitement over, the young man and his girlfriend thanked me and we all headed to our rooms. (I still get heebie-jeebies writing about it)

Next morning, Craig and I had breakfast on the roof of the hotel. Today seemed like a good beach day. We decided to rent mopeds later in the afternoon and head out to Cua Dai beach. First, I had my second fitting of the first set of clothes to go to and the first fitting for the sundresses. The first set of clothes were pretty much done, except the pants needed a final tweaking. The sundresses looked GREAT… so I ordered another one AND another silk dress in different patterns. Then I purchased some Vietnamese coffee filters for myself and as stocking stuffers at the local market.

I met up with the gang and we went next door to the hotel to rent the bikes. At first, Craig offered to drive me around. No way! I want to drive! I’d wanted to drive a moped the whole time I was traveling but in India you’d have to be crazy, in Thailand they call road burns from falling off them “Koh Phangnan tattoos” due to the frequency of accidents and anywhere else in Vietnam was too congested. Hoi An was very quiet and few mopeds. It was six dollars for the day plus petrol. It was a little nerve-wracking at first. Mostly just the starting was awkward. But it was great fun. We roared down the city street and out into the country side, the sun shining over rice paddies. And by “roared” I mean about 20 mph. The locals were ripping past me at far faster speeds.

Once we got to the beach, I realized I forgot my swim suit! Awesome! So I bought a pair of tiny board shorts for four bucks and figured that would do.

The beach was beautiful, of course. There were fisherman in these strange bowl shaped boats out on the water.

As we watched, one beached on the shoreline and a bunch of men ran over and heaved it up out of the surf. Since I was leaving the next day for Laos and my trip was winding down, I realized I was probably seeing my last beach for awhile. As the sun sank lower and the beach sellers became more aggressive, we eventually packed it up and headed back.

The sun setting over the rice paddies was breathtaking and I wish I’d had stopped to take pictures or had more time with the bike. But we were zipping back because Sharon and Craig had met a very nice guy who ran the travel agency across the street from the hotel who’d invited us to go to his favorite local restaurant for “Hot Pot.” And if you say no to invitations to dinner while traveling around Asia, you are really missing out.

I decided to wear one of my new dresses to dinner. After a nice long shower, singing along to my ipod and speakers, I put on my new dress, a little make-up and felt remarkably clean and dressy for the first time in ages…despite wearing flip-flops. I joined the gang at the travel agency and decided to book my bus to Laos at the same time. It looked like it was going to be a rough journey as there are not many check points to and from Vietnam into Laos. I decided I’d head to Vientienne and then North for a few days and then fly to Hanoi. All I knew is that I had to be in Hanoi before Tuesday, June ____ because there were only 2 trains to Beijing every week and the next one was Thursday which would leave me no time to see the Great Wall before flying home. And flights were quite expensive. I could not believe my trip was so close to being over.

We took two taxis out into the country and stopped at a restaurant/house. We were the only diners. I had seen a chicken it its basket of doom outside the kitchen area as we walked in.

(our host)

First, our host taught us how to wrap our own spring rolls. I really quite enjoyed this except that my first couple of tries were just plain lumpy, torn and awkward. But then I finally got it!

Next – out came the hot pot, a boiling broth into our host dumped in noodles, vegetables etc and we all dug in. The chicken was brought out, cut into bits and even included the head, which we were all mesmerized by. But it was delicious and we were all stuffed.

Next we took the taxis back into town to a bar where Craig and I played more pool. Eventually it seemed half our party trickled out and left Craig and I to wander off to find another party. We wandered into a mostly empty bar on the other side of the river where the bartenders let us pick the music on the computer to play.

I chose “Africa” and suddenly a dance party broke out – as much as a dance party can break out when there are roughly 5 people in the place. Headed back pretty late… my time was running out.

Next morning, picked up the last of my clothes and walked around Hoi An a bit. Bought a bunch of silk ties with matching pocket squares for my brothers, father and stylish guy friends. Lunch with Craig then back to the hotel to pack up and wait for the bus. It was looking like it was going to be a brutal journey into Laos. I said good bye to my friends – Sharon, Craig and Mark were off to Hanoi and Delmelza would be moving on to Thailand shortly. She was planning on hitting India after that and I gave her lots of advice. I was pretty jealous that her trip was still warming up while mine was counting down. A smallish bus picked me up for the first leg of the journey to Hue. I was on an overnight double cot, which is interesting. Basically, you’re sharing a small double bed with a stranger on a bus. I was next to a young man who scooted all the way over until he was practically hanging off the bed. I must have cooties. In Hue, we were put on a second larger bus like the overnight buses from Saigon and Natrang. But this time, I was shuffled to the back of the bus – the sardine bed. Where as the rest of the bus gets individual cots, the back of the bus is one big bed and you’re stuck next to total strangers. Craig and Mark had come up from Natrang in the sardine seat and had horror stories of smelly cotmates. I climbed in, happy to be up against the window at least. I arranged myself and prepared to bed down for the evening. There was room for two people next to me. However, a Vietnamese couple and their child climbed in, squashing me up against the window so their kid could be between them. Not fair. They also decided to let their child listen to music on their cell phone – with no ear phones.

I do NOT understand why no one has earphones in Asia and everyone listens to music (staticy, distorted, awful music) on their cell phones. I was royally irritated but just after we stopped for dinner, the young mother sat up and vomited into a bag. They somehow managed to find new seats in the front of the bus and two men took their place. The one next to me was determined to hog my space. First he put his foot where my feet go until I literally kicked him out. I flopped over onto my side, facing the window and he rolls over too… up against me. I shove him away. He moves over again. I shove him away. He flops an arm over me!!! “GET OFF ME!” I yelled. Sufficiently embarrassed, he rolls over to the other side and doesn’t touch me again. Gah! At some point in the middle night, we are switched onto a new bus and the bus driver is determined to stay awake by playing loud music. I am too tired to care – put in my earplugs, wrap myself up and go to sleep. We are almost to Laos.

Koh Phangnan & Siem Reap, Cambodia

2008-06-09T03:22:00.003-07:00

With my one good eye, Christian and I watched more House together. I put him in charge of my eye drops as he claimed to be a professional eye dropper after having to stay up for 24 hours putting drops in his girlfriend's eye EVERY TWO HOURS. Ugh. Mine only had to go in every 4 hours. He set his watch and in the middle of the second episode, he stopped the dvd, crouched over me and expertly squeezed two drops into my bright red eye. And again a few hours later, his phone's alarm went off and he got up to administer more drops. And again in the morning. He's a sweetheart.

We were due to catch a 2 p.m. ferry to Koh Phangnan. We found a bus to take us there and said goodbye to the Swiss girls, figuring we'd see them again soon. At some point on the way to the ferry, I saw a sign that advertised a "Monkey Theatre." I imagined some sort of Shakespeare in the Park....but with monkeys.

The ferry was pretty quick and dumped us right where we wanted to be. We decided to just take it easy and find something nearby. We chose a hotel that seemed to be centrally located and 10 dollars a night. Perfect. Christian lay down for a bit and I went wandering, looking for internet. Everything was ridiculously expensive -- and exactly the same price. I couldn't understand it. All these internet cafes were empty but they weren't about to bargain for a lower price. I asked the hotel owner and he said that the travel agencies (which were the ones with the internet cafes) all decided to have the same price. But my hotel also had internet that you used by buying a card, which was much cheaper. Plus! I discovered how to beat the system! Most places, the moment you sit down, the clock starts. But at my hotel, you don't have to log on until you try to go online. So I could sit for hours for free uploading photos and working on my blog and then only spend a few minutes online by copying and posting my blog from Word. Mwahahaha. I saved a bundle!

I stopped by yet another 7-11 and picked up a couple of large Changs and went back to the hotel. Christian was reading "Harry Potter" and I beckoned him out onto our porch where we drank our Changs and watched the sunset.

Dinner at a typical Thai Island restaurant, a bunch of tvs showing movies. We were there for awhile before wandering around, checking out the small town.

Next morning, went to find breakfast and ended up at a cafe that showed all "Family Guy" all the time...unless it was showing "Friends." We ended up watching several episodes. Food wasn't too expensive. Beach time followed. We lay out for awhile and then I decided to go buy a blow-up raft. Thank goodness the swimming area is roped off because I went out on the raft and before I knew it, I was bumping up against the far rope, about to drift out to sea.

Christian’s friend from Australia informed us of a “Cross-dressing Pool Party” later that evening at her hotel. We said we’d come, although we’d most likely be wearing our own clothes.
We ate dinner at a rather chic restaurant that specialized in tapas and then tried to find our way to the party. The roads were a little tricky and we kept finding ourselves at a deadend. We knew it wasn’t that far away, so we decided to walk on the beach on the west side of the island to get there – which was barely a beach. At last we could hear music playing and two men went sprinting by us, one in mad pursuit of the other. It didn’t look like a friendly chase. The pool party was in full swing. Christian jumped right in. I took some pictures and then took the camera to Christian’s friends room and joined them. I had to keep my glasses on – still waiting for my eye infection to go away.

Next morning – Christian and I go back to the Family Guy place. They’re just opening up and we stand there while the owner tries to figure out the DVD player and flat screen tv. It’s almost as if he doesn’t have the tv going all day every day and this is his first time operating it. We’re about to sit down when Christian glances to his right. “What’s wrong with that cat?” He asks. I look over and that was one dead cat, my friends. Matted fur and a little blood on the floor. The owner glances at it and goes back to the tv. His wife is setting chairs out. There is a dead cat in the middle of the floor. Dead. Cat. Christian and I look at each other. Wouldn’t maybe you consider...you know...possibly handling the dead cat situation before opening the restaurant? Doesn’t a DEAD CAT rank a little higher on a list of priorities than, say, finding the Star Wars Family Guy episode in the dvd case? We left. Around the corner we found a nice place for breakfast while Friends played.

Afterwards, Christian was going to meet up with his friend and check out the island. I was going to stay behind and take a snorkeling trip. I also had to book my bus back up to Bangkok and to Cambodia – which the hotel took care of for me. It was going to be a ridiculous bus ride (12 hours back to Bangkok and then 9 hours to Siem Reap. (I don't know why I didn't fly more.)

The snorkel guide picked me up at the hotel. Two Canadian couples were in the truck already. We were taken to a shop to get flippers and then walked out to the beach to get on the boat. We settled in and the boat puttered up the east coast of the island. First stop was a quick hike up to some small waterfalls. Next stop was at a beach for lunch. Then a stop at another beach for swimming. Finally we pulled near some reef and tumbled off the boat for about 20 minutes of snorkeling. The water was a bit murky and there were few fish. The guide promised it would be better at the next site.

Climbed back on board and chugged to a new area while snacking on fresh pineapple. Thailand has the best pineapple I’ve ever had in my life (at least until I get to Vietnam). Sweet, fresh, almost always perfectly ripe. I could eat it all day. I noticed that some of the Canadians were bleeding pretty badly from getting too close to the coral. Eek. My own cut from Krabi had healed nicely.

At the second snorkel site, I saw some ominous clouds were coming up over the island’s hills. Everyone started jumping into the water to swim over to the reef and then the screams started.

At first nothing happened to me, I came up to look around and make sure I wasn’t too far away from the boat when I first heard the others squealing. “Ow!!!! What is that!?!?!” People were swimming madly back to the boat. Then I felt them. Little pin pricks. Thousands of them. Actually it felt like standing on a beach during a windstorm, your body pelted with sand. I couldn’t see what was causing it. I swam back and climbed onto the boat as fast as possible but the pain continued. I looked around and everyone was rubbing off with towels as frantically as they could. Several were bleeding. “Coral?” I asked. “No. Sea Lice!” Basically, as they explained it to me, we were swimming in jellyfish sperm. Ugh. My snorkeling was done. Our guide mixed up a lethal cocktail of coke and Thai Whiskey in a cooler and handed glasses out. That made us feel better. As we sat and enjoyed our cocktails and nursed our rashes, a storm blew up. We turned around and headed back home.

Christian was reading when I got back to the hotel. We decided to go find food eventually but were unsure where to go. Ended up back at Dead Cat Café where I asked if they could put the Star Wars Family Guy on, as I had never seen it. Cat was gone by the way. The power went out about 1 minute before the ending. Then they put Friends on. The power went out 3 times and we finally gave up and went for a walk.
It was raining again so we went back to the hotel and watched one last House episode episode together as it was our last night to hang out. Oh, and I told him that if he’s ever traveling with a girl again and she has to go to the hospital – HE SHOULD GO WITH HER REGARDLESS OF WHAT SHE SAYS. Christian went to sleep and I stayed up to watch more House.

Next morning, we had breakfast and Christian departed. I packed and did some emailing and writing while it rained before eventually heading to the beach one last time when the sun emerged. After about two hours, the sun went away again so I moved to a bar overlooking the beach and watched two dogs have the best freakin’ time EVER with each other. These two dogs made me so happy--- they must have played for 30 minutes, just out of their minds having such an amazing time. Everyone was watching them. They were just so happy, you couldn’t help but grin and watch all the wrestling and chasing and jumping and chasing and rolling and chasing.

I ended up talking to the manager for a bit. He is from Burma/Myanmar and most of his family is still there. He didn’t seem to know if everyone was okay from the typhoon. I can’t imagine. And he can’t go back to check on them as I take it he might not be legally in Thailand. He asked what I wanted to drink and I told him to surprise me so he introduced me to the lady-boy bartender and I told her/him to make me her/his specialty drink (this is something I like to do in New York as well). I was hoping to try something new and exotic. She/he whipped it up, handed me the drink. It was a Sex on the Beach. Ah well.
Two young men from South America sat next to me. We got to talking and eventually they invited me to join them for drinks later. The sky showed not signs of turning blue again, so I decided to head back to the hotel and write. For dinner, I went to a different place than the Dead Cat Café where I could eat, have a Chang and watch a movie. “I Am Legend” was on, which was good since I’d miss the beginning back in Krabi. As I sat there, I realized that the South Americans had arrived and were eating dinner behind me. I joined them and when the movie was over, we wandered out on the beach.
Saturday night was only just revving up. One lone fire twirler worked the meager crowd. The beach was lined with bucket stands – most of them advertising their wares as “Fu—Buckets.” Uh. One of the SA guys disappeared and the other appeared with a bucket for me. I hope he didn’t take the advertising seriously. Music was playing very loudly and I was just too tired of the whole fratboy scene. I made my goodbyes and headed back to the hotel.
Sunday a.m. – a van picked me up to shuttle me to the ferry. It was pretty dreary out, which was good. No one likes to leave the beach when it's a pretty day. I decided to sit outside on the prow of the boat, listening to music as the seaspray whipped my hair around. We briefly stopped in Koh Samui before reaching the mainland. Buses were waiting on the dock to take us to the stop where the bus to Bangkok was waiting. On the drive up country, we were treated to the movie “The Butterfly Effect” (not exactly a new release like the bus ride down and no interesting subtitles) followed by “The Kingdom.”
Once again, I had finally nodded off when the bus came to a halt after midnight (at the exact same rest stop) for dinner. I sleepily crammed in some noodles and climbed on the bus again. We were due to arrive in Bangkok at 6 a.m. and I had a second bus to catch at 8:30 a.m. to Cambodia. This was going to be one looooooong day.
Around 3:30 a.m., my blanket was rudely yanked away from me. Many people have lost a digit or an entire limb for waking me in the past so this was a grievous offense. I sat up with a growl. One of the bus workers was systematically going down the row and swiping everyone’s blankets without so much as a “Good morning.” Apparently we were rolling into Bangkok. Early. REALLY EARLY.
We came to a stop near Khao San Road at 4 a.m. Now what? I fended off touts, hoisted my pack onto my back, picked up my other bags and drowsily wandered down the empty street to the 24 hour McDonald’s. A cup of coffee, my book, and an Egg McMuffin somehow managed to kill 3 hours before I headed out to call home and find the Tourist Agency where the bus was picking me up. I also read an article in a daily paper about a man in Northern Thailand marrying a python:
“ Satian Kenkudlung, 35, married his python because, he says, the giant snake is actually the 600-year-old spirit of his former lover, reincarnated in the form of a snake so that the couple could be together again.”
http://phuketvogue.com/phuket/man-marries-snake-in-thailand/
When I stepped outside, it was a gray dawn and monks in bright orange robes were the only people walking down Khao San Road, carry large metal bowls. I called Mom and Dad and then waited for the bus. And waited. And waited. I was getting seriously worried. I was told to be waiting for someone to get me at the tourist agency at 7:50. Now it was 8:20. The bus was due to depart in ten minutes and there were no signs of the tourist agency opening up. Now it was 8:40 and I was in full-on freak-out mode. See, my tourist visa was due to run out the next day. I didn’t actually have to be of the country until Tuesday but I didn’t have time to waste, waiting around for the next bus to Cambodia. Just as I was about to give up and go find a hotel, a young man ambled up to me and asked if I was going to Cambodia. He guided me through some back alleyways to the bus, waiting on a parkway a few streets over. I climbed onto the mostly empty bus and relief washed over me.
I was feeling pretty familiar with Bangkok at this time so I was a little sad to see it go. The movie the bus played was “The Kingdom” (they must all get the same movies) which I half watched (since I’d missed a lot the night before) and half dozed after gorging myself on oreos and various other snacks.
Just before lunch, it started to absolutely pour. We were going to stop just before the Cambodian border, so one of the bus workers stood up to announce how the visa situation was going to work. At lunch, they’d process our visas then we’d head to the border where we were advised to change our money. The guy explained that Cambodia doesn’t have many banks or atms so it’s best to get out Thai money, cross the border and exchange it. I looked in my Lonely Planet, and sure enough, it collaborated that atms were scarce and I didn’t know how big Siem Reap was. I had about 40 dollars in Baht on me still so I thought for a week in Cambodia three hundred dollars ought to do it. After arriving in a torrential downpour, dodging children trying to sell umbrellas or just walk you to the border under an umbrella, I got money out at an atm and was guided across the border and through customs. While filling out paperwork, I didn’t have a pen. I asked one of the military men sitting at a desk if he had a pen. He shook his head with a cursory glance at me and went back to his paper. Ah, work ethics. I can’t tell you how many shops or whatnot I went into in Thailand where workers were dead asleep on the floor with a pillow. I crossed into Cambodia without further hassle and was instantly stricken by the change in scenery. I had gotten way too complacent in Thailand. Mud six inches deep sucked at my feet. Ox carts, chickens, cattle roamed the streets. We were herded into a money changing shop and told to hurry as the bus was departing shortly. Now, I’ve only ever used atms on my trip but the money exchange places I’ve seen all have chalkboards or even LED boards that indicate what the daily rates are. In this shop, there was nothing but a guy behind a plexiglass booth. This is NOT good. I don’t have time to text someone how much the Cambodian real goes for. They had told us that they also tend to do more business with the dollar. The guy on the bus had said that you get more for your money if you use Real vs. dollars, saying (twice) that if a bottle of water might 1 dollar or 2 real (at 3 real per dollar). I had looked in the guidebook which said that it was 4 real per dollar but considering the book was 2 years old and the dollar stinks, and every other currency I had encountered had plummeted, that sounded right. So now I have to exchange my baht for real, all while trying to do math in my head (math and I are not friends) on all the different exchange rates going on. I’m digging in my bag for my calculator while the bus driver is prodding us to get a move on, the bus is honking, I’m holding things up…
THIS IS ALL A SCAM.
When all is said and done, I do the calculation in my head and think I’ve just lost 20 bucks. That sucks.
We stop at a rest stop two hours later and when a menu is handed to me, I look at the prices. They’re given in both Real and dollar. And while they’re not totally matching up, they do clearly indicate that I have been ripped off. By about sixty bucks. That REALLY sucks.
Back on the bus for what is the WORST road in the world and I am steaming mad. The bus rocks wildly down a muddy, dirt road for several hours. It’s awful. Take the bumpiest road you’ve ever been on and add rain and zero shocks. I’m commiserating with another couple who have also figured out they were just literally and figuratively taken for a ride. By the way, I read in the guide book that an unnamed airline is paying the government of Cambodia an undisclosed amount of money to keep the road we were on (the main artery from Thailand into Cambodia) unpaved so as to drum up airline passengers. Jerks.
We arrived in Siem Reap late at night, just as the guide book said we would. It is a bus company scam to take you directly to a hotel they are in league with in the hopes that you’ll be too tired to go find your own hotel. I never stay in these hotels on principle. A British couple and I share a tuk-tuk to another hotel nearby. They only have one room for me and it appears to be a part of the staff’s quarters. No thank you. But it’s only 24 Real, they say. No thanks, I say, I was looking for something under 8 dollars. Yes, the woman says, this is 6 dollars. “Don’t you mean 18 Real then?” “No, 4 real to one dollar.”
Oh. My. God.
I grab my calculator and burst into tears. I just got taken for about 120 dollars by that wretched money changer.
You know, I don’t mind so much the little pin pricks here and there of people in these countries ripping me off. The whiny rickshaw driver who wants an extra dollar, etc. But when ONE guy (well, actually several, as the bus company from Bangkok was clearly in cahoots) gets probably more than a week or more salary off me? Disgusting. I was so angry with myself.
I wandered down the street and stopped at a cafe where some nice Irish girls pointed out their hotel to me. I was exhausted and miserable. I was shown to a nice big clean room with hot water and cable television. I wrote Mom and Dad about my failure as a traveler. All this time I thought I was beating the system. That I was a savvy adventurer that no one could mess with. And now I just lost the equivalent of 4 days of travel money. Mom and Dad assured me that it was “a drop in the bucket” -- and looking back, I know it was. I just tried to imagine it as a parking ticket… or an expensive night out. But when you spend about 6 dollars a day on a hotel, 10 on food and 15 or so on entertainment, transportation, souvenirs, etc… 120 dollars was unfeasible.
I went to bed early.[ed. note: I recently talked to my friend Patrick in Phnom Penh and I told him about the ripoff. He said that recently a British girl was riding on the back of a moped in P.P. and a mugger on another moped grabbed her purse as she went by. She was pulled off the moped and then run over by another vehicle and killed. So if losing 120 bucks in the course of a 4 month trip through mostly third world countries is the worst thing that happened to me? I consider myself a lucky person.]
Tuesday
Next morning, I slept in for a bit (or at least tried to as there were jackhammers outside my window. Nice.) and then went down for breakfast, to drop off laundry and to arrange my Angkor Wat tour. I was introduced to a very nice motorbike guide who offered to take me around for about 10-20 dollars a day. After breakfast, we headed out to purchase my 3 day pass and hit some far away lesser temples. Man, if only my parents could see me on the back of a motorbike, zipping through the countryside.

Clouds were threatening and my guide, Sam, seemed worried. We arrived at the first temple, which was fairly impressive. I was greeted by a small family who were there visiting their son, a novice monk living in the monastery nearby. Then Sam and I tore across to another temple which I poked around until the skies opened up. We hung out under the roof of a souvenir shop while the rain fell and I found out that Sam had just gotten married a week earlier. They had met because she worked one of the cafes near Angkor Wat and was also a tour guide. The rain petered out and we went to the third temple and then zipped down a back lane, mud spraying my legs. I really was enjoying Cambodia (once over the initial hate for being ripped off). After Thailand, I finally felt like I was a traveler again, instead of a tourist.

We stopped by his sister’s house for some water and he dropped me off at my hotel around 5. He was due to pick me up pretty early the next morning for the big temples like Angkor Wat.
I headed out on the town to do some interneting and find food. I ended up at a pizza place that was pretty delicious and then moved on to “Pub Street” for a drink at Temple Bar. I was sitting and watching soccer and thinking about what in the world I was going to do for work when I returned and wondering if I should I go back to MTV. Just then, “Video Killed the Radio Star” began to play, which was MTV’s first video that ever aired. Strange. A moment later, a young man came over to talk to me. Before he introduced himself, I remember quite vividly thinking for some reason that he looked like a Brian or a Ryan. Turns out he was a Ryan. We talked for a bit until I suddenly realized he was pretty irritating, a privileged college kid from Connecticut. I was about to head out when he invited me next door to Angkor What?, a pretty happening bar by the looks of it. Unfortunately, it was filled with all the wrong types of backpackers (or Fratpackers, as I like to call them) and I had glass of beer and snuck out. Ryan had basically abandoned me for another girl anyway, but who could blame him, I clearly had no interest.
Wednesday
Up early for breakfast and Sam was already waiting. We were on the road shortly, and I was getting the hang of this motorbike business. First stop was Angkor Wat, stunning.

Also the site of many wedding photos, it appeared. Bridal parties were everywhere.

Next was Angkor Thom, which I think was my favorite. It has incredible carved stone faces all over it and was featured in Tomb Raider.

I really just cannot begin to impress upon you the enormity of these structures… and how decrepit they’re becoming. They are just amazing.

There were several other temples around Angkor Thom that I wandered through while Sam napped/waited for me in his wife’s café. They all seem to have hammocks set up in the back just for this purpose. I joined him at last and ate lunch before we moved on to some further afield temples.

You can pretty much clamber all over the temples. Some are temples you walk through and some you climb up and over. One of the temples you climb had some seriously steep steps.

I made it up and then was mighty concerned about how I was going to get back down. I noticed I wasn’t the only one, when a young western man got help from several monks (!!!) to get down. They even carried his bag for him.

I was careful – moving slowly and meticulously. I didn’t much feel like being air-lifted out of there with a broken neck.
After quite a long day, Sam returned me to the hotel and I went to find a new book and relax a bit. I had the famous Cambodian dish of amok – a sort of coconut curry. Tastebuds gone to glory. Called it a night after that and headed back to the hotel. “Witness” was playing on cable so I got a little homesick.
Thursday
Final day of Wat touring. Sam picked me up – today were were going waaaaay out in the country. I enjoyed picking my way around the temples while listening to sad and/or spooky music on my iPod. And I’m not ashamed to admit I totally listened to Indiana Jones music again.
Back at the hotel, I found that they were showing “The Killing Fields.” Odd. Usually they just showed Cambodian karaoke that the staff sat around and sang along to. I went to find dinner -- it was just pouring so I didn’t stay out. My bus to Phnom Penh was in the morning.
Friday
I was picked up around 10 for the bus ride to PP. Mostly uneventful bus ride, although was subjected to more Cambodian karaoke and an incredibly smelly seatmate. I really can’t tell you what she smelled like, just trust me it was BAD. She also had the loudest ringtone I’ve heard since India and she liked to let it ring for about 10 seconds before answering it. We stopped for lunch at a roadside market. I decided on chips and a soda as the plexiglass containers full of FRIED INSECTS didn't appeal to me.

We rolled into Phnom Penh around 8 p.m. during a massive thunderstorm. I had arranged to stay at a sister hotel to the one in Siem Reap, so I had a tuk-tuk waiting for me. I had dinner after checking in and ended up going to sleep pretty early.
Saturday
Next morning, I had to take care of my Vietnam passport and decided to book a boat tour around the Mekong Delta (basically this would take care of my transportation into Vietnam, a hotel for two nights, plus some sightseeing for about 40 bucks). Unfortunately, this meant I had to stick around PP until Tuesday and I was anxious to move on to Vietnam. Today, I decided to go check out the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum also known as S21 Prison, formerly a high school. It’s obviously a grim tourist stop but I think necessary to see. There are three rooms full of mugshot-style photographs of the victims – very overwhelming. However, while I was moving through the rows of photos, there was a family consisting of an older woman, her daughter (?) and her daughter’s child having a grand old time, pointing and giggling over the photos despite the very clear NO TALKING signs posted absolutely everywhere. There was also a camera crew conducting interviews of visitors and they called over the family to talk to them and the giggling became even worse. Incredibly distracting and rude, I thought, and I’m not even Cambodian. I moved to get ahead of them but they kept appearing in the rooms I was in, giggling at the shackles, pointing and sniggering at unattractive mugshots. I left.
I decided to wander through PP after that gruesome afternoon. Ended up taking shelter during a sudden downpour in a multi-level mall. Bought a pair of Raybans and camo-pants as my wardrobe is in dire need of updating (when you have about 3 items of clothing and are wearing them to death for 2 months, it’s time for a change) and I figured the camo-pants wouldn’t look too dirty after a week of wearing them. Plus, I was feeling a little Lara Croft-ish (minus the thigh-strapped guns, of course) after visiting Angkor Wat.
I had some ice-cream and tramped over to the riverfront where various pubs and restaurants were located to find food.
First, I stopped at a rather chic bar purporting to have a nice wine happy hour. It felt very New York-ish. I was pretty grubby so I popped into the bathroom to change into my new clothes and put some lipstick on, as well as try to run a comb through my hair. I drank my wine by myself and then went up the street to a pub for dinner. I ordered a Philly Cheesesteak (!) which was surprisingly good (and not dog, people!) and fairly authentic while enjoying the texts I was receiving from Orly and David from Owen’s graduation. While I was sitting on a bar stool watching the FA Cup in Cambodia, my baby brother was walking across the stage and receiving his college diploma. Afterwards, a young man stopped me on the street to invite me to a club but I decided to head back to the hotel instead. As I was getting ready for bed, I put on the television to discover that they were airing the Yankees-Mets game! I stayed up quite late to watch it, feeling a bit homesick every time a camera from the blimp (?) overhead would pan over Manhattan on a gorgeous, clear spring day.
Next morning, I got up late, gave myself a much needed pedicure and read a book I’d gotten from the hotel’s book exchange. After lunch, I hired a motorbike to take me to the Killing Field -- Choeung Ek. There is still what appears to be bone and clothing protuding from the earth in some places. Signs indicate where they placed a loudspeaker in a tree to play music in order to drown out the screaming, crying and other nuisances so the soldiers could get on with beating babies against trees, that sort of thing. And yes, there was a sign indicating a particular tree used for that activity. It’s just hard to wrap my brain around the level of atrocity going on – only 30 years ago.
On the way back to the city, my driver, as usual, wanted to know if I was married and why I was traveling alone and then the inevitable “how old are you?” I told him to guess and he guessed about 10 years younger and when I told him my actual age, he was shocked. “Oh, you very old. I think you not get married. Too old.” Excellent. Cheers, mate.
Back at the hotel, lunch, a little reading and then I decided to go back to that nice wine bar after another afternoon of exploring Phnom Penh. I was trying to find a Camera store but was having zero luck but walking around was nice. PP is pretty darn big and the sheer amount of motorbikes is amazing. This is where I really started honing the technique of street-crossing. You wait for an opening nearest you and then you just walk. You never run. You stop when you have to. Some argue to make eye contact but I always look past the driver so there’s no confusion… they have to go around me. You get the hang of it but it is definitely unnerving.
Once at the wine bar, the manager I’d noticed the day before noticed me. “You’re back,” he said, in a clear American accent. I asked him where he was from. He said he was Cambodian but grew up in San Francisco and had moved back to PP a few years ago. We got to chatting and after I mentioned I had worked at MTV before leaving, Patrick told me that he had some American friends who owned a wine bar down the street and one of them had worked at MTV before leaving! Patrick invited me to join him and his friends the next day for dinner and I could meet the MTVer.
Some friends of his came by and we ended up moving down the street to an Italian joint – the food was delicious. I had pasta carbonara and for a couple of hours, felt like I could be back in New York in a tiny restaurant in the West Village. Eventually went back to the hotel (where they were airing “The Killing Fields” – again) and went to bed.
Next morning, I picked up my passport with my new Vietnam visa and after a leisurely breakfast, decided to go see the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda. Unfortunately, it was a national holiday and everything was closed. Not good. I ended up just walking around PP for awhile before going back to the hotel and reading on my balcony. Before I knew it, I was late for meeting Patrick and company. I threw on my birthday sundress and raced across town.
Patrick introduced me to his friends and, as it turns out, Chad not only worked on the same floor as me but he is good friends and neighbors with one of my managers. He gave me advice on what NOT to do when I was in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon) which was to NEVER take a bicycle rickshaw. “Please promise me,” he said. I asked why. Because, he explained, they are notorious for cheating you. You try to set a price or the driver says, “Whatever you want to pay me” and when it comes time to pay up, they extort you for obscene amounts of money – like 25 bucks for going five minutes. And they’ll throw a temper tantrum in the middle of the street until you pay them. (Later, I looked it up in my LP Vietnam book, and indeed it did mention bicycle rickshaw drivers as being quite the scam artists). I promised I would not take one. Taxis have meters and are easier to negotiate. We moved from the bar to another restaurant and from there, Patrick invited me on a tour of his hotel. Very modern stylings and an amazing rooftop bar with jacuzzi. Not too shabby. We chatted for a long time. He gave me a lift back to my hotel in his Jeep (why do all Jeep Cherokees smell the same? – and not in a bad way). That’s one of the rewarding and frustrating parts of travel – meeting new, amazing people… and having to leave them.

Koh Samui

2008-06-09T03:22:00.001-07:00

My left eye is really bothering me at this point, despite removing my contacts.

Heavy clouds hung in the sky as we docked on Koh Samui. Christian, the Swiss girls, and I trooped off and, of course, were instantly hit up by touts who wanted an outrageous 8 bucks per person to take us around to the other side of the island. Per person! And these were songthaew -they could easily fit all of us inside. That's 56 bucks for a 20 minute trip. We tried to bargain with him (the guide book says it shouldn't cost nearly that much) and he pulled the typical Thai taxi driver tantrum, threw up his hands and walked away. Again, he'd rather not make any money then bargain. The guide book recommended just walking to the main road and hailing a passing taxi -- not one that's waiting for you. We watched as other tourists grimaced and shelled out the dough. The road was a bit far from the ferry, but we strapped on our gear and headed out.

As we stood on the corner, our taxi driver reappeared. He'd do it for 7 bucks a person now. We countered with 4. He drove away -- I guess to wait for the next ferry (which was hours away).

Another a moped pulled up, an older German guy with his Thai wife on the back. Now, I realize that many different nationalities actually do fall in love, but at this point every time I saw a white guy with a Thai woman, I only thought, "Ugh… creepy sex tourist." This guy told the Swiss girls and Christian (who were all now leaving me out by talking in German, which is understandable) that he'd take us to the beach we wanted for 20 bucks. He bids us to come with him down the road as he went to get his truck. We start after him but a pack of dogs come out to greet us and the Swiss girls start screaming. I tell them to look at the dogs' tails, which were all wagging friendly-like -- the dogs were just saying hi, not attacking. But we didn't continue down the road, deciding to stay near the main road.

Our taxi driver reappears again and this time he's thought things over and could possibly take us for 6 bucks each. We told him we'd already found a ride for 20 bucks but if he wanted to beat that, that's fine. He grouches and gets back in his truck but doesn't leave.

A few minutes later, the German guy reappears with his truck and waves us over. He doesn't want the taxi driver to see him taking us because it's illegal to drive a non-licensed taxi. Oh dear. The taxi driver is eyeing us and comes over and starts yapping. The German guy's wife says something and he leaves but he is definitely not happy. The woman tells us that she told him we were friends and they were giving us a ride.

Whoops.

We pile into the back of the truck and off we go. It turns out to be quite a drive and a cramped one at that. We try to find the hotel the Swiss girls had looked up but have no luck and end up in a very nice cottage-type hotel room, steps from the beach. After settling, we all troop out to find food. Koh Samui turns out to be quite expensive (although Christian and I shared a room again at about 6 bucks each). We went to restaurant after restaurant where all the main courses were 7 dollars or more. Of course it seems ridiculous now to be put off by that, but when you're used to eating wonderful meals for minimum money, it's a lot. We ended up at a fairly bland spot but I had the crab noodle salad (basically glass noodles with a little bit of greenery and seafood) which was pretty good. Except when I chomped down on a ridiculously hot pepper and tears started streaming down my face. Gotta look out for those, they bite.

My eye looked dreadful that night and hurt pretty badly. I got little sleep. Christian had told me when we were in Krabi that once he was on vacation with his girlfriend in Australia and she came down with an eye infection. It hurt her more and more so she decided to go to a hospital except they had no car and the closest hospital was 75 miles away. They had to hire a taxi and pay an arm and a leg to save her eye because, as it turns out, she had some sort of flesh-eating bacteria which had already eaten out a chunk of her eye! So of course this story is in my head and then Christian brings it up again.

The next morning, the eye is even worse. And it won't stop crying. Christian's already up and out and about. I decide to go to Subway for lunch and also stop at a pharmacy. My weeping eye is so painful, I don't know what to do. Nothing at the pharmacy is suitable. I shuffled blindly back to the beach, found Christian surrounded by all the gorgeous, nubile Swiss girls and tell him I'm giong to the hospital. I went back to the room where I start crying in earnest. Christian comes in and asks if I want him to go with me. He clearly doesn't want to and I'm not about to ask a him to give up beach time with 6 lovely ladies for me, the ancient one. Plus… OF COURSE I WANT HIM TO COME. I don't want to go to another Thai hospital by myself -- particularly since this one was guaranteed to be not as nice as Bumrungrad. But I tell him no, it's okay, go have fun on the beach as I wash my eye out again. He wavers, "Are you sure?" NO I'M NOT SURE! "Yeah. I'll be fine." "I think maybe I should come with you," he says -- but not sounding too sure of it. WHY IS THIS EVEN UP FOR DEBATE? "No, it's fine," I say, crying again. He goes back to the beach. I go to find a taxi. I can't believe he let me go alone.

Taxi charges me six bucks to go about 4 minutes. The hospital is a smallish clinic. There are two people waiting. I sign in and am seen immediately. A nice doctor and a couple of nurses make me lie down on a gurney where the doctor swabs my eye (fun!) and then the nurses basically hold me down and pry my goopy, inflamed eye open and rinse it with saline for 5 minutes. It wasn't exactly painful, but incredibly uncomfortable -- seeing liquid pouring in my eye for so long. I tried to pretend I was being tortured and needed to stay strong and valiant. But that sucked.

Then the doctor bound my eye up with a cotton wadding and tape and sent me away to another window to pick up my "painkillers" and antibiotic eye drops. Painkillers! Yay! The nurse hands me a foil packet of painkillers I've never heard of before: Paracetamol. Oooh! The doctor had anaesthetized my eye while swabbing so it was feeling pretty good at the moment but I was looking forward to dozing a bit when I got back to the hotel and could take one of the pills. I paid the bill - 30 bucks for doctor and antibiotics and pain pills.
With my sense of balance and depth perception impaired, I weaved out into the parking lot to wave down a cab on the street. One stopped immediately. I told him the hotel and asked how much. He said 12 dollars! "It's half a mile away and I just came out of the hospital!!! What would Buddha say!?! It cost 6 to get here. I won't pay more than that." He smiled sheepishly and off we went.
Back at the hotel, I walked lopsidedly down the the beach. Christian and his harem were playing card games and they all gasped dramatically when I approached. I told Christian I was going to sleep for a bit since I was taking painkillers and they'd probably knock me out. I took the pills with some water and Christian walked me back to the hotel room, holding my arm. I couldn't really make out steps very well with only one eye. I lay down and Christian told me he was going out for a bit, and did I need anything. I told him I wanted a real eye patch, if he could find one. I figured if I was going to wear this stupid cotton one, I might as well go whole hog and have a scary black one. Really take this new pirate look all the way. Or at least get a parrot.
I try to sleep… waiting for the wooziness to come on. Been awhile since my neck surgery but I remembered the relaxing "duuuuhhhh" sensation. It wasn't coming. I fell asleep eventually and when Christian returned, they still weren't working. Disappointed, I got up. My eye still hurt. No luck with the eye patch, Christian said. Hmmm. I found a black pen and went into the bathroom.

That'll do.

We met the girls for dinner -- another unremarkable Thai place. At one point one of the girls tried to convince Christian that another girl had been Miss Switzerland the year before (Miss Swiss! Swiss Miss! Hahaha). Christian nodded and congratulated her. What are you supposed to say? "No you weren't!" and if she was, she'll be insulted and if she wasn't…she'll be insulted.

We decide to take a walk and find an internet place after dinner. I’ve popped some more painkillers and they’re still not working. I got online and looked up paracetamol. It’s Tylenol. Dang.

Christian and I decide that Koh Samui is boring and overpriced and decide to head for Koh Phangan the next day. The girls are going to stay another night.

Koh Phi Phi

2008-06-09T03:21:00.000-07:00

Wednesday
Another gorgeous day – we took our gear, checked out and picked up the ticket receipt. We walked halfway to the beach where the boat would pick us up when I decided to check my pockets because I realized I’d slid the receipt into a pocket that had a habit of working itself up my leg and heaving out the contents. Sure enough – no receipt. In a panic, I whipped around to run back. A couple came up behind me, waving the receipt – “Did you lose this?” Whew.

Out on the beach, I wasn’t quite sure how so many tourists were going to get to Koh Phi Phi. There must have been 25 of us and they started loading us into a couple of longtail boats. I was appalled – two hours in this??? This was supposed to be an “express” boat! But it turned out the longtails were taking us out to the rather large boat docked in the harbor – which would take us there. Christian and I found some space and sat on the side of the boat, our feet dangling over. I took a couple of pictures and when I reviewed them I was shattered to see the sheer amount of dust and hairs all over them. When I’d had a mysterious hair in all of my pictures from the first week or two in India, Andy (my British travel buddy) had suggested it was on my sensor and maybe give it a good cleaning. Which I had- opening it up and going to work with optical cleaner, a lens cloth and a Q-tip. So the night before we’d left for Koh Phi Phi, I’d seen another hair and, again, gone to work. But this time, there were smears and more hair and more dust when I was done. Annoyed, I’d gotten online to see if there was a better way to clean it when I was horrified: “NEVER EVER EVER TOUCH YOUR SENSOR” all the information screamed. “YOU WILL SCRATCH IT AND IT WILL COST 500 DOLLARS TO REPLACE!!!” Mortified, I looked at the sensor – were those scratches??? Had I ruined my very expensive camera – when I still had 2 months of travel left?!?!?! Why did I have NO idea I shouldn’t touch my sensor? I certainly had never tried to clean it before! Obviously one shouldn’t touch any lens etc with your fingers but I didn’t realize that the lens cloth, clean Q-tip and optical cleaner were a terrible idea as well. In an utter panic, I texted Nikola, my photographer friend, to get advice. He told me to relax: I’d probably just transferred grease from my shutter to the sensor and that he’d done it himself with his 5D and to get Eclipse swabs and “pec pads.” Oh sure. I’ll just pop over to the giant professional camera store right around from the scuba gear shop on a island one mile long. Now I’d really dusted up my sensor and I was terrified to try cleaning it again. Which meant that until I figured out how to get Eclipse swabs, I’d have pictures full of dust and hairs. This morning’s shot of blue water, blue sky with horrible scribbly hairs and giant black dots brought me to tears.

We arrived at Koh Phi Phi where we were immediately inundated by touts (a fact of life I was now well used to). We inspected the boards of guesthouses and their accompanying rates and decided to share a room again. We picked a guesthouse slightly away from the beach and up the hill. It was a little startling to walk along the path towards the guesthouse and see signs that pointed that this was the tsunami escape route. I looked over the island and it finally hit me. You could see the wide swath of missing buildings and trees.

We checked in to our rather nifty bungalow and got ready to get some lunch and hit the beach. We walked back into “town” and sat down at a café, munching sandwiches while a stray kitten weaved around our ankles. Watching our fellow “travelers” walk by, we realized it was like the Disney version of Thailand. Completely western: internet shops, bars showing movies or “Friends” or “Family Guy,” stores all selling the same “Same Same” t-shirts and sundresses, and the ubiquitous 7-11. Ugh. And everywhere –I mean EVERYWHERE – frat boys. It seems the entire western world’s frat contingent (or similar) vacations here. Off to the beach where we discovered even more evidence that this island was definitely “Ultimate Spring Break.” It was undeniably beautiful but everywhere we looked it was all young white people, sipping drinks, some with tops on, some without, music and general frivolity. Not that I minded, it’s just a strange experience after India. It stopped feeling like travel – which was nice for a day or two, but then I started feeling guilty. Like it shouldn’t be so easy. I shouldn’t be sitting on a beach. I should be working hard for my experiences. And I had absolutely no inspiration to take pictures. How many pictures of blue water and white sand can one take (that sounds like I’m complaining – I’m not, really!).
I stepped out into the water and was shocked. It was so warm it was almost uncomfortable. Like water in a baby pool that has been sitting out in the backyard for a couple of August days. I waded in and found that it was only knee-deep for probably 500 yards*. I gave up and sat down in it, looking back at the beach where it was even more clear how devastated this island was in 2005. The entire length of the beach was missing foliage and when we’d walked over, you could see the foundations of long-gone buildings. Most of the standing structures were new but there were a couple of ghostly looking abandoned motels. Now I could see that every other palm tree was either missing its head or lopped off in the middle. It felt very strange to be enjoying myself on an island where so many had died. I went back to my towel.

*I met some New Zealanders and a Brit girl in China who told me a funny story. They’d gotten rather drunk (which is pretty much the only thing to do on Koh Phi Phi it seems) and decided to skinny dip. It was late at night so they threw off their clothes and ran out into the water. And kept running. And running. They had just arrived earlier that day so they didn’t realize there was no deep water until you’d gone very, very far out. So they kept running through the knee-deep water and soon their idea no longer seemed so great. How were they supposed to get back to the beach except walk all the way back, full frontal nudity for all the people on shore to giggle at – or keep low in the one foot deep water and look entirely ridiculous. One NZer and the Brit girl stopped and sheepishly headed back but the other NZer kept running and running for deep water.

This is how far the tide goes out.

I decided to go find some new sunglasses and left Christian for a bit. Later we headed for dinner – I had a pretty delicious BLT – and then wandered around. The evening was about to get started and since I couldn’t drink, I was absolutely not interested in being around the wasted young people stumbling about with their buckets (literally) of alcohol. We got some banana shakes and decided on another evening of “House.”

At some point after kind of drifting off, I heard a strange rustling noise. It sounded like my plastic cup that had contained my banana shake was scraping across the floor. I peered blearily over the edge of the bed and saw that it had tipped over. I reached down and instantly heard something scuttle furtively away. I squealed, which woke Christian up. He flicked on the light. I saw that my cup was half under the bed and the straw was gone. I sat up and looked around – only to see a blurry shadow disappear into the bathroom! Jamming on my glasses, I ran to the door with Christian right behind me. Threw on the light just in time to see a rat face peek out from a hole in the wall and disappear again.

Thursday
Next morning I was packing up a canvas bag I had been using mainly to tote random items around in like books, souvenirs, and potato chips. I noticed that someone had chewed a clean, almost perfect two inch in diameter hole in the side of the bag during the night. I guess the remnants of my banana shake were not filling enough so my Lays “New York Steak” potato chips were calling. However, since the chip bag was untouched, I’m assuming the rat filled up on canvas bag and didn’t have any room for them once he/she got through.

We had breakfast at a nearby café – playing gin rummy while we waited. Christian was instantly hooked. Afterwards, we beached for a bit until the sun was too much for me and I went to do some interneting. Over dinner, Christian and I discussed taking a snorkel trip to the beach from “The Beach” movie (which, by the way, was playing in every other bar on the island) and decided we’d wait until Sunday, which was my birthday. As we ate and talked, I looked up to see the Danish couple, Lene and Kasper, from my trek in Chiang Mai, walking past us. I called to them and they popped over. They were looking for somewhere to go for fruity drinks. They were clearly already sauced – sweating and giggling. Their trip was about to come to an end so they were making the most of it. Christian and I joined them and we checked out some of the local bars. One featured a Thai boxing ring where you could kick and punch the crap out of your friends (ah… a world without liability) in exchange for a free bucket of liquor. Nobody was there to entertain us (as it was pretty early) so we left. We ended up out on the beach, sitting in the sand. The Danes finally found their pina coladas and kept drinking as Christian and I watched, amused. When the evening tilted towards the Danes chasing each other around the beach (“Scandinavian Mating Ritual,” Christian whispered), we left for more “House” back at the ranch.
Friday
The pitter-patter of tiny feet (on the roof) woke me up the next morning. Monkeys! Monkeys everywhere!! – running across the porch roof, leaping into the trees, watching Christian shower through the bathroom window (awkward), and other general monkey business.

Christian came out and we spent most of the morning watching them. There was a great deal of screaming and carrying-on when a shaggy dog showed up and wanted to get involved. He clambered up on our porch, tongue out, tail wagging, so happy to see monkeys! The monkeys were SO not happy to see him and they crept closer and closer to the porch to bare their teeth at him and scream.

A couple of monkeys even crossed the porch and came down on the other side of the roof to threaten the poor mangy, good-natured canine, who had plopped himself down to hang with us. Eventually the monkeys departed (after I took about a thousand pictures of them) and Christian and I headed back to our favorite café for breakfast and more gin rummy. This was becoming a ritual. We’d play, I’d sip my coffee and then we’d head to the beach. Koh Phi Phi was easy to get sucked into.

Today was different though. It was Friday, which meant since I’d started my antibiotics on Saturday, it was 6 days later and I could finally have that fruity cocktail on the beach! We plunked our stuff down on the sand next to a friend of Christian’s who he knew from his time in Australia. While they chatted, I headed to the bar and picked up two pina coladas for C and myself. So delicious. Now, this is what a beach is about. I took some pictures of GiRalph enjoying his pina colada and got a few strange looks.

Eventually, I left Christian with his friends to do some interneting and get out of the sun. I saw Pulp Fiction was about to start at a nearby bar and plopped myself down. Hadn’t seen that flick in years. Eventually Christian joined me and when it was over, we went to dinner. The Danes came by on their way to dinner and said they’d meet us at the Irish pub (!!) at 9. They looked a little worse for wear after the previous night, but it was their last day, so they weren’t about to stay in. At 9, Christian and I headed to the Irish pub and upstairs to play pool. No Danes. We went downstairs at 10:30. No Danes. Eventually they appeared but none of us wanted to stay at the pub so we went back to the Thai Boxing arena. People were actually fighting this time --- in the ring and out—because the Danes seemed to get into a bit of a tiff and Kasper disappeared. Lene stayed with us for a bit and then went after him. Christian and I stopped by another terrible bar and then headed home. We passed a gaggle of young British men – all in polo shirts with popped collars, visors slightly twisted to one side, artfully mussed hair, long plaid shorts and either flip flops or sneakers with pulled up socks, all loudly calling attention to themselves both verbally and visually. “Where’s the golf tournament?” I asked. And I thought America had cornered the market on tools.

Saturday
Same thing – breakfast, cards, beach, bar, movie. See what I mean? The golf tournament boys were too much to face so Christian and I booked our snorkeling trip for the next day and spent 3 bucks on a pirated movie – “Be Kind, Rewind.” As we deserved, it was a poorly made copy of someone’s trip to the cinema with a crappy camcorder. We gave up and put on more House. At the stroke of midnight (he had been watching his phone), Christian paused the DVD and gave me a big hug, wishing me “Happy Birthday!” That was sweet of him. I was looking forward to the snorkeling trip – can’t beat a birthday swimming with fishies in clear blue water on the perfect Thai beach.

Sunday – MY BIRTHDAY!!
Woke up to ominous looking clouds. Very ominous. In fact, as soon as we sat down for breakfast, the sky opened up. And it wasn’t about to stop. We played cards and drank coffee, patiently waiting. Nope. Eventually, under an umbrella, we headed towards the tourism office where we were supposed to meet the snorkeling group. Trip was cancelled. I was definitely in a funk now. Poor Christian tried as he might to cheer me up. We wandered through town and I bought myself a birthday sundress (minus the “sun” part). It was 15 bucks but I got the store clerk down to 8 dollars by showing him my driver’s license for a “birthday” discount. Then we tried to find me some cake. No luck. We stopped for lunch at a Mexican place where we had some pretty delicious fajitas. I was starting to feel a little better.

The rain was not about to let up, so Christian decided he was going to go back and read for a bit (he was in the middle of the last “Harry Potter”) and I was going to get a Thai massage. We’d meet up at the bar that showed “Pulp Fiction” because today was “Blades of Glory” and “Anchorman.”

The massage was drool-worthy. I had an oil-based massage as the dry massages tend to hurt. It cost 10 dollars for one hour. The day was definitely getting better even if the weather was not. After my massage, I picked up a lychee-flavored Bacardi breezer (yum), hit the internet and then walked to the bar. Christian hadn’t appeared yet and I was seated near a couple of young men, one of whom was wearing a Yankees hat. We got to talking which led to my revealing that it was my birthday, which meant now I wasn’t buying any more of my own beer. By the time, Christian appeared, I must admit I was feeling no pain. After the movies, we headed yet again to the Thai Boxing bar, but first, Christian bought me a birthday booze bucket.

We got to chatting with some Canadians and eventually found ourselves in the bar. It was much more lively than I’d seen it previously (but it was also midnight or so). I look up and one of the Canadians is in the ring! He didn’t win but he was pretty good, actually. One of the other Canadians bought me some sort of horrible shot and that was it for me. No more. It was supposedly a “Black Moon” party night (the Thai islands are notorious for their “Full Moon Parties” which originated on Koh Phangan. Now they also hold these dance/rave parties on “Half Moon” and “Black Moon” --no moon-- nights) but no one really seemed to be out. The rain had finally stopped so there was one lone flame twirler. Lame. Christian led me stumbling home where I promptly fell asleep in my contacts.

Monday
Got up early to catch boat back to Krabi. I slept on the boat and felt remarkably good, considering. It was another grey and yucky day out. Next we hopped in a mini-bus which dumped us at a roadside café for 2 hours. Then a giant tourist bus picked us up to take us to the ferry to Koh Samui. They started a movie, “The Italian Job” but there was only enough time to watch ¾’s of it – which is irritating. But at least it had amazing subtitles as well.

Christian and I had made friends with some young Swiss girls at the roadside café and on the ferry we decided we were all going to the same area and we’d stick together for a bit.

Parasites and Krabi

2008-06-09T03:20:00.000-07:00

I slept until mid-afternoon the next day. I could barely drag myself out of bed. Something was definitely off. When I finally did, I crawled to the internet and then watched a little soccer with the Irish boys before crawling back to bed again. The next day, I again woke up late and tried to go out around Chiang Mai. I had a lovely dim sum dinner/late lunch and returned to the hostel when it got dark. I was feeling a little better now. My friends were congregating and trying to decide what the evening's festivities were. But trying to get a dozen people out the door was like herding cats. I don't think we actually got out the door until almost midnight. There was a great deal of bargaining with a tuk-tuk driver (how the boys thought they'd get 12 people in a tuk-tuk, I'll never know, but it involved people hanging out doors and off the back -- and probably a later trip to the hospital). Reluctantly, we hired a songthraew and went out on the town.

I had a train back to Bangkok the next day in the early afternoon. Another night train, but this time it was open-aired, which I rather liked. The scenery was luscious. I had some terrible fried rice for dinner and read and wrote most of the way.

Arrived in Bangkok around 7 a.m. I planned to take a night bus down south to the islands that evening so I had some time to kill. I had a few errands to run first -- some interneting, pick up the stuff I left in storage and mail a box home. My tummy was an absolute mess by the time I was at the internet cafe. I must have gotten up 6 times. I felt awful and weak. I had emailed Gavin from Chiang Mai about any nice hospitals in Bangkok and he'd recommended Bumrungrad. Considering the first two syllables -- I figured it was apropos. Time to go see a professional.

I caught a cab to the skytrain -- very nice! A quick (thank goodness since my tummy had no thoughts of settling down) and easy ride dropped me off only a few blocks from the hospital. I wandered inside and found myself in what seemed like a hotel -- gorgeous lobby complete with Starbucks. Little tables and comfortable chairs spread around the floor. I found a receptionist who told me to go to the third floor to sign in. I noticed on the way up the escalator that there was a McDonald's and an Au Bon Pain. I registered and was ushered down the hallway where I figured I'd be waiting for awhile. I was intimidated by being in a hospital in another country (I'm also a baby about being sick and alone), but this was an incredible facility. Within five minutes of sitting down, I was doing the usual blood-pressure/weighing triage. Five minutes after that, I'm ushered into see a doctor. I am asked to give a sample (no problem, buddy) and told it'll be about an hour before lab results are back. I have a little lunch and return after thirty minutes or so. Lab results are back. I apparently picked up a few critters in India who cozied up in my innards. Doctor prescribed me an antibiotic course for 3 days and told me I couldn't drink for 6. Luckily, my birthday was in 8 days, so I could live with that --although I was looking forward to a pina colada on the beach. I left in the pouring rain and hoped I'd feel better soon.

There was a shopping center nearby so I perused the sale racks but, after not shopping for regular stuff for so long (and being on a backpacker's budget), everything seemed absurdly overpriced. But it was nice being in a mall for the first time in over 6 weeks -- despite the fact I visited the bathroom on every floor. Eventually it was time to return to the train station where I was to catch a bus.

Another young man was waiting for the same bus at the bus office. We were ushered to a cab and taken to Khao San Road. Christian, a 22 year old German, lamented that he'd just spent money on a taxi from Khao San Road to the bus station, not realizing we'd be taken right back there. We introduced ourselves and decided to have a beer while we waited (my last before I was due to start the antibiotics). The sky opened up again as we sat and chatted, water swirled around our ankles.

At last, it was time to board the bus for a 12 hour trip to Krabi. Our bus was a typical double decker tourist bus. The bathroom, luggage area and what appeared to be either a VIP area or maybe where the bus staff slept were downstairs and our seats were upstairs. Each tourist bus seems to have a different theme design. Ours was an aquarium. I have seen a bus that was decked out in a sort of urban theme with fake graffiti and a cartoon character on the side of the bus giving passing traffic the finger.

Christian and I chose seats up front. Not many people were on the bus. Almost immediately, they started a movie - "Hitman." Great movie -- purely because whoever was in charge of subtitles/closed captioning (not sure why a movie already in English had English subtitles) had about as much a grasp of English as I did of... well, any other language. I laughed the entire way through it. After it ended (completely unedited by the way -- nudity galore), "P.S. I Love You" began. Terrible. Christian turned to me and said that they showed the same movies on his flight from Australia and if the pattern continued "I am Legend" would be next, followed by "The Golden Compass." Unfortunately, the bus driver decided it was nighty-night time and no more movies were played. I took my meds and tried to go to sleep but realized that it was 10:30 and we had not stopped for dinner.

I drifted off finally but around midnight the bus pulled over and the driver told us we had a half hour for dinner at the roadside cafe. I would soon discover this is typical of night buses. They don't pull over for dinner until you're already asleep, then you groggily spoon down some noodle dish, climb back on board and can't sleep again until 2 a.m. -- which is too bad because the bus is going to arrive at its destination at 5 or 6 a.m. We arrived around 7 a.m. and pulled ourselves together to try and figure out what was next. Christian and I really didn't have a plan, so we ended up getting a taxi with a couple of rock-climbing Canadians who recommended we check out Hat Railey.

The scenery was stunning -- limestone cliffs jutting straight up -- an absolute rock-climber's paradise. We had breakfast with the Canadians but caught a boat out to Hat Railey on our own as they needed to do some shopping for supplies.

The water was so blue it seemed fake.

Hat Railey is a bit Honeymoon Land. One side of the spit of land (it seems like an island but it's not -- it's just impossible to get to without a boat because of the cliffs, so I'm probably gonna keep calling it an island) is where all the pricey hotels are and the other side is where the cheap hotels are because the beach is really just some mud and rocks. But it's a 5-10 minute walk to the nice area so it seems fine.

We find a huge hotel room on East Railey for 10 dollars a night and decide to share as it has two double beds. This seems to be what you do when you travel -- no one finds it weird to basically shack up with a total stranger in order to save money. Christian had mentioned a girlfriend many times and as we settled in, he called her. When he's done I ask him if it's okay with her that he's sharing a room with another girl. He says, "At first she was jealous, but then I told her how old you are, and now she doesn't care."

Great.

I wanted to say, "Did you happen to mention you thought I was 25 until I made the mistake of mentioning having worked in television for ten years, which confused you?"

Anyway... with my ego smarting, we headed for the beach for a bit and then to do a little exploring.

We came around the back end of the "island," found a family of monkeys and then amazing scenery.

Christian grooming a friend.

Limestone cliffs leaned overhead, clear blue waters washing into a cave and a sunset to die for. We plopped ourselves down in the sand to watch the evening sky change to an angry violet and pink and then decided to find some dinner.

I was not liking how expensive the Hat Railey was. After dinner, we puttered around a little more and then ended up at a restaurant showing "I am Legend." Unfortunately, it was halfway through, but we had dessert and watched it. I remarked that we kept seeing the movies from his flight so was "Golden Compass" next?

The bus ride had zonked us out quite a bit so we headed back to our room to watch an episode of “House, MD” on Christian’s tiny dvd player. “House” is one of those shows that I always enjoy when I remember to watch. But I rarely remember.

Next morning, we woke up to a cloudy/rainy day. Christian got up early and went for food. I went later and was even more dismayed by the high prices. We braved the drizzle and swam in the hotel’s pool for a bit.

There was a couple staying next door to us. I sat on the porch for a bit while Christian was out and heard the young Thai woman swear loudly quite a bit at her older Western “boyfriend.” Then Christian later heard him telling her, “You just don’t understand. I am a very important person. I am an important photographer where I come from.” Ah, so this wasn’t exactly an established relationship.

We ate banana pancakes for lunch and walked by the restaurant from the night before. A board was propped up in the doorway, listing tonight's movie: "The Golden Compass." Christian and I looked at each other.

We explored the hilly part of the peninsula a bit when the sun vaguely reemerged and decided we’d try to get to the other beach for dinner that night. I’d read that we were on the side where the fancy hotels were and the other beach was where all the rock climbers (including the guys we’d met on the first day) and backpackers tended to congregate. In other words: cheaper. We were informed that there was a path that took about 20 minutes up and over the rocky hill. But we could not find it to save our lives. Since it was getting dark rather quickly, we decided to get a boat over. Of course the boat drivers wanted exhorbitant amounts for the 2 minute journey and I was getting rather sick of their theatric complaints and refusals. I often felt that Thai people employed in transportation would rather not make any money than bargain with you. It was an unwelcome change to the friendly bargaining with Indian folks. Here was pouting and stomping away. Oh, and also publicly drunk. Nice.

We finally teamed up with some other backpackers who wanted to make the journey so it only cost us 3 bucks each (remember, our hotel room was 10 dollars so taking 6 people on a 2 minute ride for 18 dollars is RIDICULOUS – but we’re trapped). Frankly, it wasn’t worth it. I expected at least a slightly younger rowdier scene but it was only slightly younger, not any less expensive, and not at all rowdy. We ate dinner and decided to head back – except now it was 10 dollars for us both to get back. No one else was going. We stood there for half an hour waiting to see if anyone else was going back. We offered 6 bucks, then 8 bucks to the boat driver. Nope. He went back to his beer. Ten dollars? Really? We could see the other beach. You just can’t get there unless you’re prepared to swim around a very rocky crag. We were just about to give in (as the boat guy knew we would) when a young local guy walked down the path and up to us, “Are you going back to Hat Railey?”

“Trying to,” I said.

“And they want 10 bucks?” He asked.

“Yup.”

“You can come with me, I’m going over there – but I’m walking.”

Christian and I looked at each other. We wondered what he wanted – why would any locals do something for a tourist for free?

We followed him down the beach and made friendly chitchat. I saw him enter a large cave ahead of us and got nervous – tucked my wallet into the back of my shorts. I had my head lamp flashlight on and our “guide” had a flashlight as well and suddenly he was clamboring up a rock like a monkey. He helped us up to follow him and we were on a path up, up, up the hill in the dark. There was a rope to help us and mostly it was a well-worn path so it wasn't scary. In ten minutes we were up and over on Hat Railey – with our ten bucks still in our pockets. Our guide was on his way to see his girlfriend and waved goodbye. Christian and I couldn’t believe he hadn’t wanted anything. Clearly, we’d become really jaded travelers. We went back to our room (after stopping to save a gecko from a cat who was having a really great time batting it around and chomping off its tail) and watched another episode of “House,” hoping for better weather for our last day.

Luck was with us – it was gorgeous when we got up. We’d decided to rent a sea kayak for a couple of hours after lunch. Initially we were going to go on the “James Bond” pre-packaged tour where you take a boat out and around the rock from "The Man with the Golden Gun” and then do other touristy things like visit a cave where there’s a reclining Buddha and a floating “village” – but we felt the 30 bucks wasn’t really worth it when we could rent a kayak for 10 bucks and see basically the same stone structures. We toured around the limestone cliffs, maneuvered in and out of caves full of colorful fish just below the surface, paddled around to the other side of the “island” where a couple of jiggly nudists scampered on the beach, stopped on a coral beach where I promptly sliced a one-inch gash on my foot and then paddled back, blood seeping in the water at the bottom of the kayak.

Back to the hotel room where I doctored myself up and then we walked to the fancy beach to swim and watch another sunset.

Dinner at the same movie place – tonight was “Hot Fuzz” – great flick, Christian hadn’t seen it before. We had an early morning boat to Koh Phi Phi so we didn’t stay out. Another episode of "House" -- and I'm hooked.

Day 89 of Great Banana Chip Standoff

2008-05-31T06:52:00.000-07:00

Though I am weak from a 24 hour bus ride from Vietnam to Laos, you have not bested me yet, Banana Chips. I will not cheat and use my nail clippers as I am so inclined, though you sneer with contempt. I will rip you seam from seam by my fierce bare hands, so help me, SOMEDAY. Until then, oh Banana Chips, you are a admirable enemy. Somedays, I fear the universe may end if you relent to me or I to you - such is the consequence of our battle. But I'm not ready for surrender - I still have time. You will weaken yet... and then I shall enjoy my hard won victory, yet mourn a worthy adversary.

Even though you're from New Jersey.

Chiang Mai Trek!

2008-05-27T23:43:00.000-07:00

Weather seemed to be with me the next day so I decided I'd finally play tourist. Making sure I had long pants and long sleeves on, I headed to the Palace first. Bit of a game of "Frogger" with Bangkok traffic trying to get there. I arrived in one piece, somehow, and joined the line of tourists who didn't wear appropriate clothing, as I assumed my flipflops would be met with disdain. They waved me through, fortunately. I had a giggle over the tourists who were given men's work shirts and long pants or skirts to wear if they had arrived in shorts and tank tops. I think after a month in India where one doesn't show much skin unless they're at the beach, I'm surprised at how crass westerners are -- not even trying to not offend locals. At Taj Mahal even, I saw a group of pasty, fat, western women shoved into teensy shorts and sausage-casing spaghetti-strapped tank tops. No clue, no clue.

I wandered into the Grand Palace where Wat Phra Kaew houses the Emerald Boudha, and almost instantly the skies opened. Along with a hundred other people, I took shelter under a nearby pagoda typed porch. The rain was incredibly heavy. But it did afford me un-touristed shots of the beautiful golden domed temple in front of me. At one point, a young woman (Chinese possibly?) braved the rain and ran to the steps in front of the temple to have her picture taken. Everyone under the roof hooted, clapped, laughed and cheered for her. As the rain started to peter off -- and by peter off, I mean slightly less heavy than the BUCKETS it was raining when it started-- I handed over my camera to the girls next to me and high-tailed it through the puddles and up the steps. I was also cheered on, particularly when I struck a rather dramatic pose -- they laughed and laughed and clapped harder.

I noticed, after the rain stopped and everyone headed out again, that most of the Asian women around me (and particularly Thai women) seem to not be into comfortable shoes. They were almost all in some sort of heels. Even flipflops had heels. Wat_______ was beautiful. At one point, I found myself walking behind a young man in a navy blue baseball hat that had the NFL logo on the back. I went ahead of him to look back and found that he was wearing a Chicago Bears hat and a Cubs shirt.

He was with a whole crew of Chicagoans. I don't know why I didn't think to bring some sort of logo'd apparel with me. Something that would grab the attention of other Americans -- it would have been a great way to meet other people. I had a boss when I lived in Hollywood who always wore something with Florida State on it, be it a hat or a shirt. I thought this was a bit obsessive, especially when it was just for the office, but it made sense when he was out traveling. He said he met SO many other FSers and made new friends that way. Of course, wearing Goucher Gopher apparel would probably not do the same for me. But why didn't I at least bring my Cubs hat??The Palace seemed to be roped off for some sort of "lying in state" event (I don't know who was "lying in state") so I left and walked around the outside wall to Wat Pho, home of the giant reclining Boudha. I spent a lot of time being a photoblogger (which apparently is a terrible bad word according to a certain photographer friend of mine) and taking photos of the temples in the puddles ::GASP:: I know it's lame but it was fun. I noticed I wasn't the only one doing it, too.

Afterwards, I wandered back through the streets to my hotel. I noticed that even though I was walking through a market, and past vendors lining the sidewalks, they weren't yelling at me! "Miss! Miss! Madam! Madam! You like? You buy?" What a relief! You can't even let your eyes fall on something in India without the stall-owner/storekeeper instantly falling on you to make a deal.But I also noticed, later on, haggling is a whole 'nother beast in Thailand. Instead of in India where they name a price and you usually halve or tree-quarter it and start from there, Thais appear to instantly throw snippy fits and throw their hands up and walk away -- particularly with any sort of transportation worker. No haggling. They'd rather not make any money and walk away then lower their ridiculous asking prices. Indians take it in stride, rolling their eyes at your price, with a smile though, and, "Oh! You're killing me!" -- it's part of dance. Then you finally make a deal and the Indian shopkeeper often invites you for chai. Civilized! No hissy fits! I miss that.Spent the evening writing and wandering around Khao San Road and places nearby -- now that it was safe since all the Super Soakers were gone. Stopped in a pharmacy and weighed myself, but as I didn't know the kilogram to pound ratio, I had no idea what 50 kg meant.

I forgot to mention that on my first real day in Bangkok, I'd braved the Super Soaker Brigade and I'd had one of the most amazing meals of my life. A bacon, double cheese Whopper. BACON!

Friday - I relaxed and prepared for my first night-train up to Chiang Mai. Before leaving, however, I decided to take up my guesthouse's offer of foreign phonecalls for 10 baht a minute (which is about 30 cents or so). Pretty good. The woman who seems to run the guesthouse (and never has a smile on her face or anything but a grumble when you ask for change to use HER computers, thereby giving that money right back to her) dialed the number and started her stopwatch. I was calling home pretty early but I figured Mom would be up for work and Dad gets up early as well. BUT! I forgot it was Friday -- Mom's day off. Oops. It was great to hear their voices though -- haven't spoken to Dad since Easter and haven't talked to Mom at all. We spoke for about ten minutes and when I hung up, I'd gone 2 seconds into the next minute. The GH Woman demanded 110 baht. Now I realize it's ridiculous to argue over 30 cents. But this wasn't exactly a payphone! Here I've been staying at this guesthouse for several nights, paying to use the internet for hours, and she wasn't going to let two seconds slip by. I said, without raising my voice or getting fractious, "I don't think it's very considerate of you to charge me for an extra minute when I only went 2 seconds over." Instantly, she was snarling at me, "MY PHONE! MY HOTEL! YOU PAY OR YOU DON'T USE! MY PHONE! MY MONEY! YOU DON'T LIKE YOU LEAVE!!!" Wow. So much for "Land of Smiles." I was happy not to come back.

I grabbed a taxi after storing one of my bags and headed for the train station. I boarded the train and was instantly struck by the complete difference between Thai and Indian trains. Now, I realize at this point, I should stop comparing, but the night trains in India were a mixed bag. I had the horrible night stuck in 3rd class, and the reasonable nights of sleeping on the three-tiered cots, covered in dust. I also realize that I only paid 6 bucks for those tickets while the night train to Chiang-mai was around 26 bucks. But wow. It was air-conditioned and you sat at a table with another person until the conductor came around and made up your beds, one above and one below. Sheets, blankets, comfy foam mattress and fluffy soft pillow. I slept like a log. Arrived in Chiang Mai around 9:30 a.m. and was picked up by the Lodge I was staying at, BMP. Very nice lodge -- swimming pool!

I had a meeting with our trek guide that evening, but until then, I sat out by the pool. It was lovely. The meeting got started at 6. There were going to be 9 of us on the trek: 4 Irish boys (Colm, Colin, Dave and Ron), Robbie the young Brit, Lene and Kaspar from Denmark, Hanni the "European" and myself. We were due up and out by 9 and urged not to stay up too late. After the meeting, we all hung out in the BMP's restaurant before deciding to check out Chiang-Mai's Night Market. We walked into town and had a great dinner, the boys eyed some Chinese throwing stars, and then wandered back, but not before stopping at 7-11 for some "large Changs" and squid-flavored potato chips!

Colm offered to open my Chang, using a lighter, which ended in my Chang shattered on the sidewalk. He went back and got me another. Back at the guesthouse, we watched soccer (Man United vs... um... shoot, can't remember) for a bit before retiring -- the Irish boys being rabid football fans and all.Next morning, I wasn't feeling so hot. Tummy was absolutely terrible and the thought of trekking all day was not looking good. Nonetheless, I packed the small backpack I was given with the necessary items and headed downstairs after stowing the rest of my stuff away in storage. The backpack was pretty heavy with camera equipment and whatnot. All the boys seemed to have rather light packs. We climbed into a songthraew (a converted pick-up truck with benches and a roof) and headed out into the country. Tummy was feeling worse and worse. About 45 minutes later, we stopped at a market while Simon, our guide, picked up food supplies. I sought out a bathroom. This was going to be a long, long day.

Climbed back into the truck for another 45 minutes to the National Park where we were trekking.At first the trek was easy -- relatively flat land, although my feet were wet instantly due to trying to jump across streams and missing. Where was my balance? I didn't like my pack much though. It hung low on my back and was straining my shoulders. We stopped for lunch pretty quickly and a 20 minute rest. Then it got harder, more hills, not much shade -- the trees were remarkably bare. Stopped again by another stream. My back was really hurting now. The camera was weighing me down and I looked jealously at the Irish boys with their tiny packs. Then it got SO MUCH WORSE. I realize we were going to be staying with HILL tribes but i was not prepared for the hills we climbed. I was quickly the last person in the group. Simon lead and a young Thai boy who never spoke brought up the rear, making sure none of us got left behind. At one point I considered paying him to take some of my stuff, I was that exhausted. I remembered what Andy told me in India -- that sometimes when he was particularly exhausted, he'd play Commando or something and imagine he'd have to drag someone through the desert. I tried to buck up, imagine i was in the Marines or something. But every burst of energy flagged immediately, my legs wobbled, my back was killing me.

After one particularly hard-core uphill hike, we stopped at a lovely waterfall and I nearly keeled over. Simon told us there was only about a ten minute walk ahead of us before we were done for the night, but it was entire uphill. And by uphill, it was practically straight up. I wanted to cry. I told Simon that the bag he gave me's straps didn't work right. I couldn't tighten them to fit the pack closer to my upper back instead of hanging down just above my butt, thereby dragging me backwards. Simon took my pack, moved the stuff around inside, and then wrapped the straps around it. He handed it back to me and it was much MUCH better. Still too heavy, but at least not breaking my back.

We got up and started the last daunting length. I tried to keep up my momentum but almost immediately was the last person again. I stopped for breath every couple of feet. I so wanted to dramatically fall to the ground and groan to everyone, "go on without me!" When we reached the top, I could have flung myself down and stayed there all night. We walked a few more minutes to a small group of houses on stilts. I couldn't' believe we made it.

We were invited to use showers and eat lychee fruit from the trees while dinner was prepared. I think all of us were too stupefied to move. Beer was offered, but no one was drinking it. We were all zombies. Dinner was served and we wolfed it down. It was still early, so I got out my iPod and speakers and we sat around chatting. I was playing my "R&R Thailand" playlist that David made me. Mostly, my fellow trekkers didn't know the songs on it although the Irish lads were familiar with Flight of the Conchords "Most Beautiful Girl in the Room." As we sat and talked, Peter Bjorn and John's "Young Folks" started playing and I noticed the Irish boys bobbing their heads and whistling along. Ah! They know this one, I thought. Then one of them turned to others and said, "Which advert is this again?" "Budweiser," answered another. And they continued whistling along. I thought this was pretty funny because I am familiar with this commercial although it has never aired in America because a friend of mine, Brian Floyd, is in it. We crashed pretty early on-- we were given a large barn-like structure to sleep in where they'd laid out lots of futons under mosquito netting. I slept pretty well except for the two animals which sounded like they were trying to kill each other just outside.

Day 2 of Trek

I was surprised I wasn't totally exhausted the next morning but I was not looking forward to the long haul ahead of us. We only had a little more uphill walking to do, fortunately. Not far from where we started, Simon stopped the group and picked up a long piece of grass. He poked it gingerly in a large hole on the side of the path. He poked and poked and eventually, and I can only imagine quite irritably, a HUGE tarantula emerged. It stood with its front legs raised and struck viciously at the piece of grass as Simon poked and prodded it. As is my habit of anthropormorphizing everything, in my head the tarantula was saying, "Really? I mean, really? Every Tuesday, Simon! Can I just have a break for once? Can't you go bug Louise... she's just a few holes down, for crying out loud. ::sigh:: All right, here. Grr. (raises legs, attacks half-heartedly) Okay, can I go back to tea now? Thanks. See you next week."

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Finally we headed downhill where we got the chance to Tarzan our way across a stream by holding a vine and later came across a farmer who was roasting a lovely stretch of cow hide across a fire -- with the cows head in the fire itself. Mmmm, lunch.

Lunch actually took place at Simon's mom and dad's place. While Simon cooked a delicious and simple noodle and broth soup, we lay about and rested. We were absolutely filthy.

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Simon's grandmother stopped by and sold us some necklaces and allowed me to take her picture. She had amazing earlobes that, unadorned, hung nearly to her shoulders.

Most of my fellow trekkers took short naps but I couldn't, instead took some shots around the hut -- i love that even many of the simplest of homes have satellite television.

Finally we roused ourselves to hike for the first of two waterfalls. The boys played with a half-filled volleyball. I waded in but it was a lot colder than I expected. We didn't stay long.
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We trekked for a bit longer, at one point walking along a very narrow spit of land with quite a fall on one side. My legs were starting to shake again. We crossed through an area where the ground burned. There are two types of farming methods for two types of rice - rice paddies for white rice and dry ground for brown rice. In order to clear ground for the brown rice, farmers tend to slash and burn -- which the government frowns upon, but no one wants to take the livelihood of the hill tribes from them. They alternate where they grow crops, but still you can see jets of smoke coming from all over the landscape. It's a bit strange to be walking through a forest that's half on fire. I don't know how they keep it under control.

We reached a shallow stream. Simon crossed a log first then lifted a thin bamboo rod across by supporting it on a forked branch. I guess this was supposed to be a railing. I was last to cross and I knew I wasn't going to make it - not with my legs as jello-y as they were. I took one step out, then another, and my legs went... I grappled for the "railing" but it was not supportive whatsoever and I fell. It was shallow, but nonetheless, the rocks were slippery and I couldn't keep my balance and fell all the way in. Luckily, I saved my camera, thrusting it into the air, at the expense of my elbow, which took my weight on the log. I was mightily embarassed.

As we returned to that narrow spit of land to continue the hike, I again slipped. My legs were a mess. I sat down heavily and wanted to cry. Where was my energy? The group was far ahead of me now and I felt like a bit of a failure. This shouldn't have been a difficult trek.

Finally we reached the second waterfall, which was also where we were staying for the evening. I put my stuff in a bungalow and noticed that there was a sign on the door that read, "Boum boum, no knock." Simon and his mother were lingering nearby and I asked him what it meant (although I had a fair idea). He grew flustered and his mother said something in Thai. Simon said, "It means, 'Loud noises.'" Uh huh.

We relaxed while Simon and his family prepared dinner. There was a chicken in an overturned basket when we arrived. I noticed the basket was empty a bit later and that chicken was on the menu. I will now forever refer to those cages as the Baskets of Doom.

The second waterfall is apparently the waterfall used in the movie, "The Beach" (where it was digitally enhanced by height and also had more water forced over it).

It's beautiful but also a little cold so I contented myself by watching the puppies that were scampering about and playing. Then I went to arrange my stuff in my thatch hut and as I sat in the doorway, I saw a HUGE wolf spider on the door. I enlisted the help of a couple of boys to bat it from the door (insisting they not kill it) but everytime they swung at it, it would scurry to the other side of the door and I'd squeal. Not my finest hour* I admit.

Dinner was served - I guess that might be the freshest chicken I've ever had. And then the beer started flowing.

I lamented my lack of strength during the walk and it occurred to me to ask if anyone knew the pound to kilogram ratio. One of the Irish boys broke out his guide book which listed that it was 1 kg = 2.2 lbs. I'd lost 10 pounds since leaving the states. That explained a lot. Also considering the 6 weeks of bad tummy, I thought it might be prudent to see a doctor when I got back to Bangkok. I broke out the music again and a fine time was had by all -- which included a late night dip under the waterfall. The full moon lit up the sky like daylight. The next day was going to be much easier so we made the most of the night.

Day Three

Up early for breakfast and a shower under the waterfall - brrr.

The trek back to the truck was pretty easy (although we again walked through burning fields) and my strength kept up.

The next adventure was an elephant ride. We stopped for a bit of lunch and arrived at the Elephant trekking area. We paired up, I was with Robbie from UK. We exchanged cameras with the Danes, Lene and Kasper. Apparently the elephants are big fans of bananas so we purchased a bunch (or 3) before climbing the platform. We were told to keep the bananas from the elephants' view but after Robbie climbed onto our elephant, I gracelessly dropped the bananas from the bag we'd hidden in them and another elephant, with lightning-quick speed, grabbed them with his trunk.

I tried to wrestle them away but to no avail. Luckily, Robbie had another bunch but we were out of those before we even exited the yard. Those elephants are greedy! They'd take 3 or 4 steps and their trunk would snap back at us, demanding a banana. It was like a toll or gas or something. There was a banana stand just outside the yard, before the trail, where we bought more. Again, these quickly ran out and the mahout would have to poke at the elephant's trunk to keep it from demanding fruit every 15 seconds.

I'm not so sure about this elephant ride activity. I don't think the elephants are treated very nicely and the mahouts were certainly bored out of their minds. Because it was no longer being paid its toll, the elephant had a charming new tactic of expressing its frustration with us. Every 30 seconds or so, its ears would stop flapping, it would thrust its trunk into its mouth and then whip it back at us and spray us with elephant snot/saliva!! Robbie and I started to know when to duck for cover, but we were already covered in it. The mahout assured us that the elephant was only trying to "keep cool" -- but, funny how the snot-spray stopped when we purchased another bunch of bananas at the next stand. Jerk.

Midway during the trek, the mahouts guided the elephants over to some large tubs of water. I knew then that we were in for some trouble.

I did my best to shield my camera and bag as the elephant took giant gulps and sprayed himself repeatedly -- drenching Robbie and me. One of the mahouts jumped into the tubs as well and swam around, mingling with the trunks. I was shocked at how strong the elephants trunks are and how dexterous the tip is at grabbing and holding.

As we continued, the Mahout invited me to sit out on the neck of the elephant with him. This was a very strange sensation -- I was not used to holding on with my thighs and his hairy, coarse, thick skin felt weird on my legs. It was also pretty precarious; I was certain I was going to flop off at any moment. We ran out of bananas again and the spit/mucus started spraying. At this point, I was just one big glob of elephant snot. Delicious.

We made it back and continued on to our next destination: river rafting. There were 4 to a raft. At the front was our guide with a long bamboo pole, then two people sat in the middle and one of us would stand at the back with a second pole. The raft consisted of about 6 thick bamboo poles, about 15 feet long, roped together -- and that's it. I was on a raft with Robbie and Colm. Robbie took the back and Colm and I enjoyed the ride in the middle. Our guide was hilarious. When we'd approach rapids, or get a little too close to an outcropping of rock, he'd squeal in a high pitch (and what I think was supposed to be an American accent), "Oh my Buddha!!!"

We got into a race with the other backpackers/guides. Robbie was pretty good for most of the ride until we came too close to the bank and he stuck his pole into a rock to push us away -- which he did.... except his pole stayed stuck in the rock and nearly took him with it. Now we were rudderless and the "Oh my Buddha's" really picked up.

One of the other rafts was piloted by a girl who couldn't have been more than 14 and she was ruthless, whenever we'd get close, she'd smack her pole in the water, spraying us. We'd splash back. Also, along the way, the riverbanks were lined with picnicking Thais. There were little platforms with roofs where the families would sit, legs dangling in the water eating and drinking. Emphasis on the drinking. I noticed there were restaurants on the other side of the river, some with wires across the river. It looked like you could order food and it would swing down the wire to you. The families would splash and splash us as we passed and we'd splash them right back. Apparently they were yelling at the Irish boys, "Monkey men! Monkey men!" due to their slightly furry-ness. But when the Danes went by, the Thais would go quiet. We think it had something to do with Lene's gold bikini. So much fun!

It was sad when it was over.

It was about a 2 hour drive back and we were exhausted. After a quick dinner, I fell into bed for about 14 hours!

*But I would redeem myself in a BIG BIG way Vietnam, so it's okay.

(More than) One Night in Bangkok

2008-05-16T05:37:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry, I'm having a terrible time remembering the Germans' names. Thai Airways is really quite nice. The food was exceptional and I had a couple of glasses (small small glasses) of wine. I was excited to be moving on, but worried that I wouldn't like Thailand as much as India. The plane showed some strange E! Entertainment style shows followed by an episode of "Everyone Hates Chris." I have no idea why. We arrived in Bangkok and I was immediately struck by the pristine, modern, steel-and-glass and CLEAN airport. So clean. The bathrooms were clean, everything was SO CLEAN and shiny and new. And there was a STARBUCKS. I had joked with Sam as he took me to the bus to Kathmandu if he wouldn't mind stopping at a Starbucks. I really had no idea I'd be seeing one 36 hours later! I didn't go...

I ran into the Germans at the luggage claim. We decided to share a taxi into the city. They had a hotel in mind but I was playing it by ear. The taxi did about 120 mph into the
city center where we beheld a new horror waiting for us... Songkren.

Songkren is the Thai New Year. Every year the entire country takes a few days off to completely soak each other with water and smear each others' faces/clothes/hair with white rice paste. And we found ourselves at Ground Zero.

The streets were line with Bangkokians (?), three-person deep, all armed with neon-colored missile-launcher-sized Super Soakers. Or huge buckets. Or regular sized Super Soakers with hoses attached to backpacks shaped like Pooh or Dora the Explorer. And they were tensed and waiting... waiting for us. Okay, actually it was pretty awesome but we knew the moment the taxi stopped we were going to get it. Everywhere you looked, Thai girls and boys were all drenched to the bone, smeared in white paste and laughing. Tuk Tuks tore by us, their occupants leaning out the sides and spraying the taxi. Or pedestrians would press white hand prints all over the windshield.

The Germans and I desperately made preparations for our imminent arrival at Khao San Road, where the real party was. I had plastic garbage bags in my backpack and wrapped them around anything of value. The Germans did the same. We reached where their hotel supposedly was but by the looks of the roadblock and the water demons cackling as they surrounded us, we weren't going to be stopping there. The taxi took us onto a relatively quiet side street where we got out and darted looks of fear left and right. We hiked our packs up onto our backs and stopped a relatively dry-looking American, Jack, to find out where was a good place to stay. He lead us quickly to his hotel -- we only got a couple of soakings. I guess the Thais don't want to be the first one to soak a foreigner (unless it's from behind, the jerks) and they definitely don't want to be the first one to smear your face with paste. We dropped our stuff off and regrouped - Jack joining the Germans and me. We were hungry...and eager to jump into the fray.

We hit a nearby restaurant first that had amazing food. We enjoyed the people-watching as well, except for the drivebys. Everyone was having so much fun.

Back out into the streets -- we were "gunned" down pretty quickly. Finally, a drunken bunch of Thai guys smeared us with rice paste and after that EVERYONE was rubbing paste all over our faces.

The German Guy really got into it -- he started buying bottles of tap water and going to town, dousing anyone who dared point a watergun at us.

We made it down to Khao San road and a side street where we encountered quite a gauntlet ahead of us.

There was no escaping it and we were dripping by the time we got through it. Some jerks had filled their waterguns with ice water, which I feel was not particularly fair. I don't like squealing like a stuck pig when that stuff hits me square in the small of my back. Cowards!

The music was pumping, the lady boys were voguing and we decided to join the party. Pretty much didn't recognize any of the music until they played "Gasolina" and I realized it was Monday night - Karaoke time! "Seaaaaaan Muuurphy" I yelled to no one in particular as he is the karaoke regular who tends to sing Gasolina every other week. We danced and threw water and smeared faces with the rest of the Thais and tourists. I was a MESS when I got back to the hotel but it was an insane good time and, I feel, an excellent introduction to Bangkok.

The next day, the Germans headed to the airport to go down to the islands and I headed to
the equally exotic setting -- of 7/11. I had myself a coke slushie...and then instantly regretted it, not thinking about the ICE. But it's okay as most of the places in Thailand
bring in water to make ice and don't use tap water.

I spent some time online and tried to figure out my next steps. After all the running
through India and Nepal over the last few weeks, I felt suddenly rudderless. And lonely.

I made friends with a Canadian fellow, Drew, and his eccentric friend, a British woman who could have been either 50 or 90, I had no idea. Along with Jack, we decided to get dinner. Another amazing meal, with vines of peppercorns and spices that made each mouthful a little tastebud festival. The boys wanted Jim Beam and ordered a bottle of it. We had a nice little party... before realizing we were the only ones left in the restaurant (a gorgeous riverside, outdoor place) and headed out on the town, bottle in hand. I'm not sure why, to be honest. I should probably have just gone to bed at that point. All I know is we ended up at another pub where I blearily watched Arsenal and Man United playing at midnight before demanding to go home.

Next day, I contacted Gavin. He was due into Bangkok later that night and urged me to go out and see some sights. But I was still not in the mood to be touristy. I worked on my "travelogues" instead, updating through the end of India and then wandered around the neighborhood a bit. Later, I waited for Gavin to arrive and his tour of Bangkok.

It was SO nice to see Gavin! A familiar face! I realized I've known Gavin for ten years now -- since our days at "Strange Universe" in LA -- my first job after college. He's barely changed, still working -- producing tv shows and dividing his time between England, Thailand and wherever else his work takes him. We jumped in a waiting taxi, Gavin directing the driver in his British-accented Thai. We zoomed off into the night.

Our first stop was a bar which at first seemed to be having a swimsuit competition. All the women stood looking bored up on the bar, with numbers attached to their swimsuits. They were all GORGEOUS, slender, shapely ladies gyrating ever so slightly to the pounding music. "Notice anything unusual?" Gavin asked. It dawned on me immediately -- they were all men. "Ladyboys" as they're known. But they looked great! They had hips... and other curves. I would be totally fooled if not for Gavin. And by the looks of the customers around us, either they were fooling everyone, or... "What's with the numbers?" I asked. "Um," Gavin took a long swig of beer. "That's in case you want to...meet...one." Oh. Of course. We drank our drinks and left.

Up next was a gorgeous rooftop bar in downtown Bangkok. Apparently Havaianas are not appropriate footwear so I was loaned a classy pair of white loafers that were a bit on the large size.

I guess that's my "classy loafer" face.

We marveled over the skyline and caught up on the last year or so since we saw each other in New York. After that, I wanted to hit karaoke. It was only midnight, and I was shocked to find most of Bangkok kind of shuts down. We headed back to Khaosan road area and had no luck finding karaoke. Did find a guy with a dried squid bike:

Who doesn't love dried squid on a bike?

We settled on a nice late dinner and a crazy ride on a tuk-tuk back to my hotel.

I wished Gavin good night and completely crashed.

Dear Thailand (again),

2008-05-09T23:29:00.000-07:00

Look, I'm sorry. I didnt' really mean those things. You don't have to cry. Seriously, it's my last day on the island and you're RAINING NOW. It was gorgeous just a few minutes ago, I was just about to head to the beach. But NO, you have to be all dramatic and start POURING. Wah wah wah. Look at me, I'm Thailand and I'm sad. Wah.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I am not angry with you. It's just the little things you know? I want to love you. I do. But you make it hard. So damn hard. You're beautiful, Thailand, don't get me wrong. You're stunning... sometimes you look a little hookerish--NO WAIT, I didn't mean that. I just mean, you don't have to do much to look good and sometimes, well, you're a little trashy. You are very pretty but on the inside, Thailand, you're not really my type.

What we had was great, most of the time. But it has to end because there's not future for us. And do you really want to end it this way? Can't we just remember the good times? Can't you let me leave with a smile instead of a frown? Thailand, don't make me hate you. Can't you let me sit on the beach with a pina colada PLEASE???

STOP RAINING! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!

Oh, screw you, Thailand. I'm leaving you -- go have fun with those Aussies I saw you eyeing up. I'm out.

Dear Thailand

2008-05-09T23:18:00.000-07:00

I realize I shouldn't blame you for what India started, but you haven't been treating me much better, I have to admit. And maybe that's my fault -- maybe somewhere deep inside, I seek out abusive countries on purpose. Perhaps you remind me of America. But this has to stop. First the parasites (again, not really your fault), then the massive eye infection, and now the sea lice welts. I guess you thought it would be pretty funny, huh? Catch me unawares? I finally take my belated-birthday snorkeling trip and suddenly I feel like I'm in an underwater sand storm? Real cool, Thailand. Real cool. At least you didn't bloody me like you did the men I was diving with. Jealous much?

So I'm leaving you. There, I said it. Tomorrow at 11 a.m. I have a bus ride back to Bangkok and then on to Siem Reap, Cambodia. Do you know what Siem Reap means, Thailand? I means "Siam (or Thailand) Defeated." Yeah. That's right. In your FACE, Thailand. In your face!

Sucka.

You ain't gonna hold me back. I will survive. Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye? Did I crumble? Did you think I'd lay down and die? Oh no, not I. I will survive...

Now, if you'll excuse me, my sun tan seems to be peeling and leaving moist little bloody spots on my arm. DAMN YOU THAILAND!

Nepal - 2nd day of trek and onwards.

2008-05-09T07:56:00.000-07:00

Okay, where was I?

Nepal, second day of trek. We were woken up early in order to catch the sunrise over the
Annapurnas. It was chilly out so I wrapped up before heading to the hill above the guest
house. The sunrise was pink on the snowy peaks. Absolutely beautiful.

Breakfast was served and soon we headed back down the hill towards Pokhara.
Going down was not particularly easier than going up. Every moment I was concerned I'd take
a tumble. My shoes were not exactly the best suited for hiking and gravity pushed my toes
deep into the shoes where they rubbed and blistered. My legs trembled and grew weak. It did
not help when our guide pointed out that the path had been wiped out a year ago by a
landslide that killed 9 people.
Today was election day and the locals were jubilant.

Many passed us on their way up or down
the mountain to vote. As I cautiously took each step down the hill, suddenly a family
passed me. Mother, father, son and daughter. The daughter was in jeans and flip flops and
texting on her mobile phone as she hopped down the mountain side like a sure-footed, teenage
girl mountain goat. I was reminded that many families have two homes -- one in the village
and one in the mountains and were washing the chemicals off their finger so they could vote
twice!

When we finally reached level ground, I pulled out my flip flops -- my feet were on fire.
We plodded our way back into Pokhara. I haven't been that tired in a long time. When we
reached the hotel, Markus and I planned to meet for dinner after we showered and took naps.
However, the moment I got to my room, I lay down on my bed -- all dirty and sweaty -- and
passed out for three hours.
We finally met (after a little internet time) and went for pizza! I had hawaiian. It
wasn't too bad actually.
The next day, I was due to leave for Chitwan National Park. It was a little sketchy, my
travel, due to the election but I was able to find a bus. Some time during my trip, a
mother gestured at me and then at her child. I didn't understand. She said something to me
and I shrugged the international, "What are you talking about, lady?" sign at her. The man
next to me understood her and took the child and put him on his lap. Oh. Well, I
don't really want a four year old in my lap for 2 hours, I think a local can take this one
for the team.
The bus reached the end of the line in no time. It was an enjoyable ride - great scenery
and the bus boys (?) were really nimble and quick with the jumping out the door and
clamboring onto the roof while the bus was in motion. At one point, the bus was so full, a
couple of school boys hung off the side of the bus as we raced top speed down a mountain
road.
Unfortunately, because we'd had to take a local bus, another woman and I who were going to
Chitwan, didn't have anyone meeting us to take us to our respective resorts. We were, of
course, greeted by touts wanting to give us rides. "I have someone picking me up," I told
one of them. He continued to pester me and then when I brushed him off, he told me I was
rude. Oh okay, so getting in my face when I am saying I already have a ride ISN'T rude? My
ride showed up and looked at me with dismay. Or rather, looked at my STUFF with dismay.
He'd come on motorbike. Oh boy. Perching one of my bags in front of him, my big bag on my
back and my important bag (with camera etc) in between us, we carefully made our way to the
resort, which luckily was only a few minutes away. I hadn't been on the back of a
motorcycle in ten years so I was fairly nervous.
We arrived at the resort and I was shown to my room. I noticed a number of staff sitting
around listening to the radio about the election but no other guests. I asked my guide,
Sam, where everyone was. "You're the only guest" he told me. Huh. I came down to sit in
the yard and read for a bit with a pot of coffee (all the coffee or tea I could drink was
free). Sam sat with me. I noticed that he always sat with me -- I guess he thought I might
get lonely even though I was reading. A bit later, we went out for a walk through a local
village and along the river. He showed me that the village was surrounded by electric
fencing to keep the rhinos out. Or... as he called them: "Rhinosaurs". Throughout the next
few days I thought "rhinosaurs" was a mispronunciation until I picked up some postcards and
saw that that was the pronunciation for them. And why not? They are pretty prehistoric-
looking.
We walked back and dinner was prepared and served. It was very strange to eat in a rather
large dining hall all by myself. Sam sat with me but didn't speak. I read. Eventually I
went off to bed as I had a pretty full day ahead of me.
Sam stopped by pretty early to get me up. I told him that I'd like two pots of coffee with
my breakfast. As was typical throughout India (and still here in Thailand), coffee was
Nescafe. I can drink a pot of coffee which is really 2.5 very small cups of coffee but I
wanted to take coffee to go on my Elephant ride. I'd specifically kept an empty water
bottle for the occasion. But I didn't get my second pot of coffee which I found rather
infuriating -- after all, I'm the only guest! Sam walked me down the road to where the
elephant rides into the jungle departed. My elephant arrived and there were already three
people on it: and Indian guy and a British woman and her son. The top of the elephant has a
wooden railing in the shape of a square. We are seated each straddling a corner. Which
means that the Indian man and British woman are more or less facing forward and the boy and
I are facing backwards.
This was not a fun experience actually. An elephant is a pretty lumbering beast which means
I was rocking wildly back and forth, my thighs slapping the wooden post repeatedly. I
bruise like a peach as it is, so I could only imagine the size of bruises that awaited me
(about peach-sized actually). We blundered forward into the jungle, the guide pointing out
beasts (mostly deer) to us, causing me to strain my neck to look around for. At one point,
the Indian fellow decided to make a phone call. In the jungle. From on top of an elephant.
"Hello!!!" He yelled into the phone and continued in Indian. I could not believe it. We
were supposed to be seeing wild animals but with this guy practically screaming, we would be
lucky if we saw a couple of beetles. I poked him in the back, "Excuse me, could you make
your phone call another time?" He looked at me sullenly and hung up. And I thought cell
phones in restaurants were annoying. Then he and the guide started having a long, loud
conversation. Again, I prodded him...hard. "We're supposed to be looking for animals and
you are being very loud!" He shut up after that.
I was pretty disappointed for most of the ride. Then the guide took the elephant out into
the river and pointed out a large rock to us. Only the rock was actually the head of an
alligator. Excellent.
We moved back into the brush when the guide brought the elephant to a halt. He pointed into
the bushes. About twelve feet in front of us -- a rhino and her baby.

How bizarre, I have
to admit. They moved towards and open field, completely unconcerned by the elephant with
three humans attached to it. We followed. Finally my bruising felt worth it. We headed
home. Sam picked me up and took me back to the hotel. I had some free time before my
"jungle trek" so I asked to be taken to an internet cafe. Sam drove me on his moped and I
got online -- to find several emails from friends telling me that i was "famous" -- or
rather infamous, I think. A well known New York based website had posted a picture taken by
my talented photographer friend... a picture he'd taken of me back in December that he'd
finally gotten around to posting on his own website -- but the owner of the popular website
had taken it to use on his site because apparently he likes pictures that are "very New
York." I like the picture but I did not like all the snarky comments left by readers of the
website and it upset me. Also, some of my friends who saw the picture were confused because
the website stated the photo had been taken on "Thursday"-- when I wasn't in the country. I
know it's stupid now, but I was pretty upset. I think I could normally take a bunch of
strangers taking potshots at me, but not when I was on the other side of the globe and
couldn't defend myself. I felt really alone all of a sudden. Went back to the resort and
tried to read and have coffee and not think about it, but it really bothered me. Eventually
it was time for my jungle trek.
Sam and some other resort guys took me to the river where we boarded a very narrow wooden
canoe.

I suddenly wished I hadn't brought my camera with me. But we made it down river
without incident (except for the rather large alligator that HISSED at me!)

and climbed the embankment into the jungle. Before we went deeper into the forest, Sam turned to give me some ground rules to follow in case of a rhino or tiger attack.
!!!
In case of a charging rhino, one should run in a zig-zag pattern as rhinos are large and
can't move all that delicately. But they are fast! If you can't outrun it, throw an item
of clothing, a bag or a hat in another direction as sometimes the rhino will go off to
inspect it and you can get away. If one can't run fast enough or distract the rhino with a
shirt/bag/hat, one needs to climb a tree -- a thick tree, one that a rhino can't knock over.
And you have to climb high because rhinos will get up on their hind legs.
In case of an attacking tiger, one should run and throw a piece of clothing/bag/hat away and
if that doesn't work, climb a tree -- a thin tree because tigers can't climb thin trees
because their paws go all the way around it, which is awkward for them.
We start into the forest, the guide in front of me holding a club of some sort, meanwhile
I'm trying to remember which type of tree I'm supposed to be climbing. I'm not too worried
about running into a tiger as they're fairly scarce, but as I DID see a rhino and her baby
that morning, I was terrified we'd run into them again. And all the big trees around were
of the straight, branchless variety and I have NO idea how I was supposed to climb that.

We walked through the forest and realized that a terrific storm was approaching. The sky was a
very menacing black/green. We barely made it to the elephant training camp before the skies
opened up.
It was very dark and we huddled under a porch for awhile. Apparently this was a training
facility where elephants are taught commands that make them useful in doing work around
Nepal - building and carrying and such. Like living construction equipment. It was
interesting but rather sad as well, since the animals are taken away from their mother and
spend several years penned up with only a few feet of chain to move around. I didn't really
care to stick around. We headed back to the canoe and truck.
That night, I was due to see a traditional show of dances.

The drumming and dancing was
pretty amazing, but the interesting bit was the fact that when the dances called for ladies,
a man would dress up like a woman to play the part.

That was cute -- but illustrated to me
that even the women couldn't take part in the fun. However, Sam explained later that the
ladies had their own dance parties, if you will.
I was off to Kathmandu the next morning. Sam seemed sad to see me go and got suddenly very
flirty. It was the Nepalese New year, 2065. He told me I should come back next year. I
told him I'd try to come back in 2066 -- but I'd be an old, old lady. He took me to my bus
and waved goodbye.
There is something I don't understand about the bus system. So, we wait for twenty minutes
at the bus station, get on the bus... and then STOP 2 minutes later for more people to get
on. It's like people can't be bothered to go the extra half mile to a bus stop, but instead
flag down the bus at irregular intervals -- making bus rides go on FOREVER. I think I
mentioned this before, but it's very annoying. It's lazy and not fair to the people who
took care to go out of their way to get to the original bus station. The "four hour" bus
ride to Kathmandu took seven hours! I was really irritated by the time we got there. Then
a taxi driver tried to rip me off to take me to my hotel and suddenly I HATED KATHMANDU. I
found little to redeem it. When I got to the hotel that was pre-booked for me, they didn't
have any rooms because I was supposed to be there several hours earlier. They said this to
me like it was my fault. Oh yes, sorry my bus took almost twice as much time -- obviously
that was all my doing. Now I had very little time to do anything as I was due to leave the
next day. I was taken to another nearby hotel with a very smelly bathroom. I dumped my stuff
and headed out to see the monkey temple. I argued with a taxi driver AGAIn and made my way
to the temple, which was on top of a very steep hill. I was too tired to enjoy it by the
time I got to the top. Some little boys befriended me as I descended.. but of course, after
they were finished with all the questions they had for me, they just wanted "rupees?
chocolate? pens?" I was OVER Nepal.
I headed back to the hotel to get some dinner. I heard some rock and roll playing down the
street and headed in that direction but it turned out to be a very loud/smokey bar. I ended
up at The Yak Restaurant, where I had a strange dinner of Momos (Nepalese dumplings), apple
fritters, Everest beer and coffee. I went home and watched a little tv -- CNN was showing
some news on Obama and Clinton and the crawl on the bottom of the screen mentioned something
about a Lonely Planet author plagiarizing books -- but I never really found out what that
was about.

The next a.m., I got up to buy souvenirs and get breakfast before my plane ride to Bangkok.
I got very irritated at all the touts in Kathmandu and when it was time to leave, I happily
boarded my taxi (who tried to gouge me, of course) to the airport.
Once at the airport, i got in line to pick up my ticket behind two very tall Germans.
Suddenly one of them realized we had to actually pay a departure tax BEFORE checking in and
raced off to another counter to do so. I asked the remaining German if she'd mind watching
my bag while I followed her boyfriend. It cost about 30 bucks to LEAVE Nepal. Ugh. We
raced back to the line where the German girl was holding her own. Apparently the people behind us were none too happy we'd left the line to pay the taxes (I can't say I don't blame them -- but we didn't hold them up, so relax). We checked in and proceeded the boarding area. I was
sad to leave without seeing Everest -- but I guess there's always another time... and I was
ready to leave Nepal and head for a new country/culture. Soon it was time to board the
GIGANTIC Thai Airways plane and I was on my way...

Better now.

2008-05-03T00:47:00.000-07:00

I am finally on the mend. A week ago after another terrible bout of traveler's tummy (okay, it never actually stopped) and feeling weak, I dragged myself to Bumrungrad Hospital (I'll keep the puns re: the first two syllables of the hospital to myself...or not) in Bangkok. Gorgeous hospital -- Starbucks in the lobby and McDonald's on the second floor, oddly enough-- and sought a doctor. I was seen by a very kindly, elfin, giggly doctor with huge eyeglasses and a tragic comb-over. They ran some tests on me; I had definitely lost more than ten pounds since leaving the States. Lab results came back -- parasite infection. Hurray! Due to dubious hygienic practices in India (their quaint ideas of no toilet paper and sporadic hand-washing) that no amount of Purell could keep me safe from, I picked up some critters who cozied up in my innards for the last month or so. They got to enjoy more of my food than I did, I guess. I was prescribed a heavy dose of antibiotics to take over the next 3 days and to avoid alcohol for six days. I left the hospital in heavy rain and found my way to the train station for a night bus bound for Krabi.

I am now in Koh Phi Phi which is nice but a little too Ultimate Spring Break for me plus it's strange to sun oneself on a beach where who knows how many died 3 years ago. There's a great swath of land that is clearly just being rebuilt -- foundations of swept away buildings lie covered in weeds and there are a number of topless palm-trees.

Woke up to a gang of monkeys surrounding the bungalow this a.m. One let a paw dangle over the porch roof near my face. I high-fived him, marveling at the soft, yielding baby-hand feeling. He didn't appreciate it.

Internet is expensive -- I'm hiding from the sun at the moment and have left Christian to fend for himself, surrounded by topless women under the topless palm trees. He said he didn't mind, he didn't feel too harassed.

Pictures soon, more entries soon. Falling behind, I know. Two of my five memory cards have decided to stop working when I try to upload them. Not good. I'm blaming elephant snot.

Darn it.

2008-04-24T07:22:00.000-07:00

I noticed that my horizontal pictures tend to get cut off. So lest you think I have terrible framing problems, click on the picture to see it in all its glory or go to www.flickr.com/photos/pixelpitz for the original. Grrrr.

Out of India... and on to Nepal.

2008-04-24T05:43:00.000-07:00

Bus was at 8:30 a.m but it was recommended to be there by 6:30 a.m., I have no idea why. I decided getting there at 7:45 was good enough. As is my habit, I like to ask hotel managers how much rickshaws should cost to where I need to go -- since the drivers almost always see a white face and double or triple the going rate. "Bicycle rickshaw no more than twenty rupees" I was told. Okay, I headed out, found a bicycle rickshaw and got on precariously -- I have a lot of stuff. The man told me it was 40 rupees (of course). I told him the hotel said it was 20. He grumbled okay. He biked me for about 20 minutes and I felt bad because he was an older guy and it was fairly warm out, so I gave him 30 rupees total as a tip. "Ten more," he says. "No, we agreed on 20." "Ten more." That's not what we agreed on, I said and he made a face at my money - grimacing and sticking his tongue out. Forget it, I'm never tipping again. I'm just a walking ATM anyway.

The bus was going to be pretty crowded and it was due to be a long slog. I climbed on board and settled in for a snooze. I was in a little trouble because I didn't have any money left. It didn't make sense to get more Indian rupees out and pay 5 dollars for the transaction (at least) for just a few more bucks. I could make do on the last remaining Cliff bar I had as breakfast and some roadside dosas or samosas for lunch and worry about dinner after I get Nepalese money. But the roadside cafe we stopped at for lunch was pretty pricey but Indian standards so I didn't eat. I wandered about taking pictures of Indian trucks. I love them!

We stopped again later in the afternoon, and I bought a bag of chips -- determined to hold out. I had 30 dollars in American money in my pocket specifically for my Nepalese visa (they only take dollars, isn't that strange? I had to buy 10 dollars, but I had a twenty in my wallet since leaving NYC. While at the roadside cafe, I noticed a large group of Israelis standing off on the side of the cafe, snickering and taking pictures at the bushes. I wandered over to find out what could be so interesting. Well, it turns out the "bushes" were marijuana plants. LOTS of them. HUGE.

Got back on the bus for the final couple of hours to Sounali and the Nepal border. We were instructed to get off the bus and walk 100 meters to immigration out of India. Then across the border where we would get our Nepalese visa. It was kind of anti-climatic. Just a big sign we walked under saying Thank you for visiting India. Huh. I guess that's that.

Nepal had no electricity. This was a running problem throughout India as well -- power constantly goes out. Sometimes it's scheduled, sometimes not. We trooped over to fill out forms by candlelight. Then we had to produce our 2x2 inch photos (some didn't have them -- amateurs!) and our 30 dollars. The jerky little man took a look at my 20 dollar bill, held it to the light, noticed a small tear (REALLY small tear) in the border of an otherwise crisp, new 20 dollar bill and refused it. He handed it back to me, gruffly, "No good." I'm sorry, what?!? India and Nepalese money is in appalling shape, and I did often have money turned down because of a tear or a hole -- or faces made when they see the shape of it or the size of the denomination). But flatly turning down American money for a small tear??? MY MONEY? I was SO upset. "But it's MY money!" I said, waving my American passport in his face. "It's FROM America!!!" Just then an Austrian guy I had spoken to briefly at the last stop came over and whispered for me to let it go and come with him, we'd fix the problem. The Nepalese immigration people had told me to go to the money changers. I couldn't believe it. We walked up the street where the money changers merely taped the tear. Idiots. I went back with my taped money and again, that jerky guy through it back in my face, "No good! Bank won't take!" I turned to who I thought his supervisor was and showed him the money. "No good," he sneered. "But it's fine! It's brand new!" "Not my problem," he grumbled, not looking at me. Suddenly I VEHEMENTLY HATED NEPAL. In India, the national saying is, "No problem!" Anything could happen, "No problem." Apparently Nepal's theme is "Not my problem"? Again, the Austrian, Markus, took my arm. "Ask if anyone has an extra 20." Why would anyone have an extra 20? I was the only American there. But I asked, and sure enough, a French guy near me had an extra. Thank goodness. I tossed it at the nasty little man and he inspected it and pushed it through. Then I had to wait outside until it was processed in about 10 minutes. Meanwhile, Markus explained to me that he'd heard a girl get upset about something to do with the process and the petty little men had gotten all Soup Nazi on her and denied her a visa altogether. "NO NEPAL FOR YOU!" She tried again the next day -- turned down again. Eventually she had to go to another border. They called me back inside, all smiles and "Welcome to Nepal!" Oh shut. up.

Now I had the minor issue of no money for a hotel. My plan had been to stay the night and then move on to Chitwan Nat'l park the next morning. Most people were either moving on to Pokhara or Kathmandu next. Markus said he was going to Pokhara. I asked a man if there was an ATM nearby and he laughed. "No ATM here. No banks open for 3 days. Election!" Oh boy. I went to exchange travelers checks. But, when I had received them, the bank never told me to sign them immediately. I had no idea. So I pull them out, and there's no signature already on it, so the Money changer guy won't take it. Frankly, all I had to do was turn around and sign it and they'd never know I didn't sign it the day I got them. But I was screwed. So I asked, can I take money out using a visa (my bank card has the logo). No no no they say. But I did that all through India, I said (it was a great way to use my atm like a visa card and avoid the usual 7 dollar transaction fee because they'd only add 3% generally, and I only take 100 out at a time). Suddenly they realize what I'm saying. Oh yes, that will work -- but not until 9 a.m. tomorrow. But my bus leaves at 6:30 a.m. Meanwhile, I have no cash for dinner or the hotel. This was not bright on my part, I admit -- but I hadn't had any problems getting money out in darkest India -- but I hadn't counted on this election deal.

The hotel guy told me there were many buses to Chitwan, not just at 6:30 and that I could pay for the hotel and dinner in the a.m. That was a relief. But then I ran into Markus and was looking at the map of Nepal and realized that it made no sense for me to go to Chitwan first and then Pokhara and THEN Kathmandu. I should go to Pokhara first. Markus very thoughtfully lends me 1000 rupees (about 15 bucks) and I decided to trail him to Pokhara. Which is a good thing I did because we timed it so that we were on a trek on the day of and before Election -- when all buses were shut down. Dinner of chow mein and sat with Markus and a French Canadian guy and a silent Israeli guy talking (except for the Israeli) before bed.

Up at crack of dawn for breakfast and bus to Pokhara. 6 hours they said. Ha. It was a local bus and we made 3 stops within 1 km it felt like. Or we'd sit for 10 minutes somewhere. M and I were going crazy. Plus he's about 7 feet tall so he was miserably cramped in the tiny seats.

(this is my "going crazy" look + fish-eyed lens = hot)
The bus took 12 hours, careening along sheer cliffs, snow-capped peaks in the distance. The country was beautiful. All the farmers have built these amazing terraced fields down the sides of the mountains for their rice paddies. I must say I was pretty nervous for most of the ride.

(this is a picture of one of the guys who worked on the bus - they clambered like monkeys up onto the roof to secure luggage even while the bus was speeding along. Lots of passengers rode up on the roof as well. I considered it but didn't head up there.)
At one point we hit a bump and luggage came crashing down on M's head. In his Ah-nold accent, he loudly exclaimed, "Luggage fall on my head - NO PROBLEM!" and the bus exploded in laughter and clapping and the locals repeating, "No problem! No problem!"

Sometime after that, a gas can on the roof tipped over, dousing me and everyone around me in gasoline. The bus pulled over and everyone got out for a bit. I decided to find a bathroom -- or rather a private bush somewhere. I must say, that was the most scenic ladies room ever.

We reached Pokhara and a taxi was waiting for us. It was all so green and lovely and clean. Our hotel was great. I think we may have been the only ones there.

Since my time in Nepal was short, I decided to sit right down and figure out a 2 day trek up at the base of the Annapurnas immediately. Markus decided to come with me since he thought maybe he should start light before trying a 10 day trek. The hotel arranged the trek with a guide and we were to leave at 8:30 a.m. In the meantime, M and I retreated to our various rooms for a little clean up and then walked to get dinner in the town. We heard Pokhara had good steak houses and we could not WAIT. The first two places we tried were out of steak and tried to tell us no one had it. But the third place had steak and while I wouldn't exactly qualify what I hate as a steak -- more like some strips of well-done beef -- it was still exciting to eat cow again after 5 weeks. It was a pretty darn good meal actually -- and Markus is good company. Went back and repacked my stuff so I could store all the unnecessary stuff and prepare for the next morning. I think I meant to watch a little HBO before sleep but I don't remember much after I crawled into bed. I was liking Nepal more and more. Perhaps it is "No Problem" after all.

Up early again, stow my stuff in the office and a quick bite in the restaurant with M. We have to catch a bus and it's hit-or-miss due to the election. We head for the stop and wait a bit. I spotted a young man in a Britney Spears t-shirt. I had been seeing a lot of these t-shirts which I found amusing so I asked to take his picture. M. told me I probably made his day.

The bus arrived and shuttled us up into the foothills. We put our packs on and followed our guide up a trail that left me a bit breathless very shortly. Oh my goodness, what have I gotten myself into?

We walked past a couple of farms, children came out and trailed us for a bit -- same old thing - "Chocolate? Pens? Rupees?" The view was amazing but I was a little disappointed that the snow-capped mountains weren't terribly visible. Just a couple faint edges of some minor Annapurnas. Still, it was difficult to believe how huge they are. We were pretty high up ourselves, but they still towered in the distance. We at last came to rest at a hilltop temple of some sort that was empty. I was absolutely dripping. Staggered out of my pack and wandered about for a bit before it was time to head onwards.

In a bit we headed downwards again to a small village for lunch. As we waited for food, we found ourselves inundated by small boys. I got out my iPod and speakers and started a dance party, which then turned into the boys showing me various kung fu moves.

They could not get enough of the music and speakers but clearly preferred Michael Jackson to Stevie Ray and Johnny Cash. They did, however, like saying, "Johnny Cash!" Oh well, what do they know.

After the dance party (which was probably not a wise decision on my part as now I was exhausted but I did get to take a break while Markus swung them all by turns into the air) we started onwards because clouds were gathering behind us. Menacing clouds.

felt the spritzing start soon and a farmer invited us to take cover under his porch so we didn't get drenched. And thank goodness, because I stuck my hand out into the fat and heavy drops and it was the coldest rain I've ever felt in my life. Instantly, the air went from upper 80s to 60s at least. We loitered with the farmer for awhile until the storm passed. Talked about the election and all the parties that were going on. The farmer told us that many of the villagers would race down the hills after voting to vote again in town where they had another home (after scrubbing off the mark on their thumbs with chemicals).
We didn't much farther to go after the rain petered out so we continued on.

We were staying at a guesthouse at the end of the foothills with an amazing view. Upon arrival, we settled in for coffee and a beautiful sunset. M. and I sat there most of the night, watching the lights of Pokhara far, far below.

I'm a mess.

2008-04-22T04:30:00.000-07:00

Just back from 3 days in the jungle in Northern Thailand and I am covered in mosquito bites and some sort of hive situation. Prickly heat? I have no idea. It's terribly itchy.

But the real issue is that my tummy is still bad after 1 month and before I left Bangkok I popped onto a scale in a pharmacy but as I don't know the kilogram to pound ratio, I didn't bother worrying about it. However, I found the jungle trek extremely taxing and after only a few steep hills I was wiped out, my legs were shaking. By the end of the second day, I took one step onto a wooden log over a stream, my leg wobbled under my weight and in I went. Saved my camera at the expense of my elbow, but what I was more worried about was why I had so little energy. Why was I shaking? Where was my balance -- all that ballet for naught?

At dinner, I asked if anyone knew the ratio of pounds to kilograms. One of the boys pulled out some sort of guide. 1 kilogram equals 2.2 pounds. Which means I've lost somewhere in the neighborhood of eight to ten pounds since leaving the US. I remember weighing about 120 before I left but I might have weighed a little less before leaving because I was having a hard time eating due to nerves that last week or so.

I think I've been eating a lot... but now I'm wondering if it's not getting processed correctly. Or I'm sweating it out. Or I'm not eating as much as I think I am. But it certainly explains why I am so tired. So I guess it's off to the doctor either here in Chiang Mai or when I get back to Bangkok on Friday - for the tummy -- hopefully this skin thing will clear up shortly. In the meantime, will probably try to take it easy and eat well tonight.

Nepal posts coming soon...

Varanasi

2008-04-16T06:19:00.000-07:00

Beneath my bunk were two middle-aged men and who appeared to be with their father. The father was not well. He mostly lay there with his arms over his head, occasionally rising slightly to watch the passing countryside when the sun came up. I had a feeling that Varanasi, as for many other Indians, was literally his last stop.

Many Indians travel to Varanasi to die. If you die in Varanasi, you receive instant nirvana (not sure if this is the right phrase). Many others go to bathe in the Ganges river for karma and cleansing... although the Ganges is one of the filthiest river on the planet. The guide books suggest that you dont' even stick a toe in it, yet there are all the Indians bathing, playing, dunking themselves, drinking and washing clothes in it.

I caught a rickshaw to my hotel and then went out for a walk. I really liked Varanasi immediately -- the narrow streets and the energy, the history and the people. I stopped to play with some puppies and realize an American couple had done the same. We started talking and then decided to get dinner together. I wandered around a bit more after that, taking pictures but decided to go to bed early.

Next day I stopped at an internet cafe first to transfer more photos. I quickly go through my memory cards. As I was paying, a turbaned man stopped in the doorway. I smiled at him and he smiled back. He was holding a small covered basket. As I watched, he lifted the lid on the basket -- and a huge black COBRA popped up. A very REAL Cobra. It was like a nightmare jack-in-a-box! I jumped back and he gestured that it was okay, the cobra had no fangs. Still. I waited for him to leave. ::shudder::

I spent the day just wandering about. I walked down the ghats taking pictures.

At one point, I stopped to take a picture of a wonderfully huge water buffalo and a man came over to me to let me know I'd have to put my camera away if I continued walking in the direction I was going. I hadn't noticed I'd reached the crematory ghats. I really had no plans to visit them. I couldn't really see anything, for which I was grateful -- just piles of wood burning. Only one shrouded figure was visible in one of them. I made my exit swiftly.

I stopped at a local chai stand with some older Indian men and then proceeded to get completely lost. Eventually I found myself in front of a women's salon and decided to get my scary eyebrows taken care of. "Threading" is very cheap -- about 50 cents or less. And again, surprisingly painful. Afterwards, the ladies asked if I'd like to get my hair washed. I looked in the mirror. It had been a long time since my hair had seen a hair dryer. I agreed. I felt like a million rupees when I left that place, clean hair, slightly curled, bouncing on my shoulders. I headed for the ghats again to watch the evening ceremonies. On my way there, a couple of young boys accosted me -- tried to show me a good place to sit, etc.

At one point during the ceremony (which was interesting... for the first ten minutes) they reappeared with a baby monkey on a leash. Afterwards, they invited me to their father's shop for chai. Why not? I went with them. On the way, they asked me where I was from, etc. When I told them I was American, they asked, "Do you like Goldie Hawn?" Um, okay. Weird. Of all the American movie stars... "Sure, she's okay." "Goldie Hawn is our friend! She visits many times!" When we arrive at the shop, photo albums are brought out. Letters also - ranging from 1998-2006. The photos show Goldie and family in the shop, in a restaurant, etc over many years with the family of the shop. I remembered later that Oliver Hudson and my friend Anson were in a short-lived WB tv show a few years ago "The Mountain" in which they played brothers. I later had to write Anson and tell him that India keeps throwing him in my face.

The boys and their father and Uncle were very sweet and the chai was delicious. The older boy offered to show me around the next day if I wanted. I said I would do that, maybe around 4:30 p.m. He said he'd meet me at my hotel.

I woke up at 6 a.m. to watch the sun come up over the Ganges then headed for a rooftop cafe where I wrote postcards and listened to music well into the afternoon by myself. Well, except for one point when monkeys appeared behind me and scared the stuffing out of me. They were about to go through my stuff but I smacked them with a guide book and off they scampered, throwing deeply insulted, "ooh ooh ooohs" back at me. I took to wander after that -- and yet again became incredibly lost.

In fact I had to get out my compass to figure out what direction I was headed. I was too late to meet the boy at my hotel. In fact, when I finally got my bearings, I was near the shop and the other boys found me and led me to their home. More chai, then up to the rooftop for kite-flying. Apparently Sunday is when you fly kites.

I looked around and sure enough from every rooftop there were boys and girls flying kites. It was amazing really.

They let me have a go at it, but the kites don't have tails so they're a little out of control.

I had more fun taking pictures.

Two of the boys demanded my iPod as soon as I had arrived. I had shown them the iPod the night before and they preferred watching "the visuals" over listening to music. So I put on Layer Cake and they shared the headphones. Again, they were watching Layercake and when I said it was time to go, I realized they were in the same spot as last time they had been watching, when Daniel Craig is in a bathrobe up on a roof with his mouth duct-taped. We went downstairs and more chai was brought out, so again, they demanded the iPod. After a bit I said I really had to leave and they reluctantly handed it over. It was again on the same scene. Now, this scene is about 37 minutes in, and I know they'd only had it for 10 minutes so they were clearly fast-forwarding to this scene. Then I realized...

There's a love scene just before the rooftop scene. Albeit a very tame one where there's no nudity... nor really any "love"-- just kissing and then Sienna Miller putting on lingerie in the bathroom. But those cheeky boys were watching and rewinding the same scene over and over again!! They were very upset to part with the iPod.

The older boys accompanied me back towards my hotel. I decided to stop and some food and they came in with me. Their "uncle" worked there. I don't know if it was an actual uncle or if he was a family friend they called "uncle" as is done here. It was an interesting meal -- very quiet.

Then we continued on and as we got close to the hotel, the older boy (who I thought was 14 and is actually 19), asked me, "What are you going to give me?" I said, "we never discussed any money." "No, that's not what I meant." "Well, then I guess you get the pleasure of my company." "How about a kiss?" "How about a handshake?" Boys. Same in every country.

Some internetting and packing before bed -- early bus to Nepal in the a.m....

I can't believe India is over. And I'm scared I won't like Southeast Asia as much.

[But I am in Bangkok now and I just had a double bacon cheeseburger at Burger King so I guess it can't be all bad. Oh Bacon, my lover. How I have missed you.]

Jaipur (Again) and Agra

2008-04-15T23:38:00.000-07:00

Jaipur -- again, March 31st

Next morning, finally feeling a little better but the only thing I wanted was... oddly enough.. white bread and bologna -- or something like that. No curry, no grease, nothing fried, no rice, no toast. Then I remembered -- SUBWAY. It was ten in the morning but I walked down the street and was elated to find that I was very close. I ordered my sandwich and couldn't wait to eat it. Brought it back to the hotel and chowed down in my room. It was perfect. A semi-cold coke to go with it and I felt great! However it was later when I noticed the "No non-veg allowed in hotel" sign at the desk. Oops.

Next, I contacted Amit again -- our guy in Jaipur who I worked with doing invoices at MTV. I had a tshirt to give him and wanted to meet the guy who really put up with a lot we threw at him. He said he'd meet me in 45 minutes at the hotel so I decided it was a good time to run to the post office.

However, I didn't' realize the headache involved with sending a package. My rickshaw driver offered to go in with me and help me navigate the process. On the way there, he told me the first thing I had to do was ask "how much" when they're preparing my package. When we got there, I had to first go and get my package sewn up in muslin and waxed shut. As the man pondered my package, the rickshaw driver pressed his foot down on my foot. Oh yes! "how much?" I asked -- I didn't realize this was when I was supposed to ask. 80 rupees. I looked at the driver and he shrugged, so I had no idea if this was right. The man who had looked at my package was seated at the desk. He put the package down and nodded at the man standing by the desk who then started measuring my box and started sewing up a pillow-case like covering while the man at the desk read and picked his nose deeply. There's really a rush to get things done in this country. ::sigh::

Finally, that part was done and now I had to go stand in line and get the package out. Suddenly, a young man appeared next to me and said my name. I was startled but he introduced himself as Amit! I guess my hotel had told him where I'd gone. He offered to help me the rest of the way (I released the rickshaw driver) which involved basically butting in front of a huge line of men (which is okay for a woman to do). Next we attempted to go to the train station (with my stomach, I'm afraid of night buses for long distances and trains have bathrooms) but the trains were full and then we went to lunch.

Amit is about to be a father and is very excited. We chatted a bit. He's also going to Miami soon and I hope he's not away when his child is born. He took me to the bus stop and we only had a moment to take his picture with the tshirt before I had to jump on a bus.

Agra - April 1st

Bus ride wasn't too bad. There was some sort of festival going on so the roads were crazy with young people walking down the side of the road -- hundreds of them. Carrying red glittering flags and backpacks, etc. My hotel in Agra was quite the backpacker scene. I was grateful for a very comfortable bed, a hot shower and a TV! I had a small bite to eat and tuned out. As in Udaipur, there were really only 2 stations in english. Well, three including a business channel -- but watching the market plummet is depressing so I stuck to the movie channels. On one channel, "Black Hawk Down" was playing. About a year ago, I got to know a very talented musician and all around good guy, Keni Thomas when I was on the Lynyrd Skynyrd cruise (he was also there performing with his band). We've stayed in touch since then and this was the second time I've seen BHD but the 1st time I've seen it since meeting someone who was actually there -- and is even portrayed by an actor in the movie. I found it difficult to watch after awhile and changed the channel. The other movie channel was showing "Urban Legend: Final Cut" and suddenly I found myself watching another friend, Anson Mount, on the screen! Very strange to be in India and the only two English channels are showing films that I have connections to.

The next morning, I prepared for the Taj. On the way there, we passed through an intersection that was incredibly busy and everyone was swerving around a very large cow/bull that was idly sitting in the middle, chewing its cud. This, I realized, was the Gramercy (my huge fat cat) of cows. Finds the highest trafficked area and sits there. Yes, you WILL go around me.

The Taj was incredible -- obviously. Tons of people were there and I could have spent hours wandering around. And I did.

At the back of the Taj, there is a river -- I'm sure it was once beautiful, but like much of India, was strewn with garbage. Very sad. As I stood there and watched, a man next to me finished his water bottle and heaved it, quarterback style, out into the river. I just glared at him and shook my head. He noticed. "What's your problem," he asked in English. "Show some respect for your country," I growled and walked away. Disgusting.

When I rounded the front of the Taj, a young father approached me with his infant daughter, like many infant daughters, dressed in a terrible, flouncy, tulle dress. He wanted to take a picture. I was confused and thought he meant he wanted me to take his picture. No, he wanted his picture taken with me. Okay.

Next thing I knew, I was inundated by people, mostly young men, who all wanted their picture with me. I was like a celebrity. I'd finally get away, only for it to happen again. They'd line up. Then they'd start to get cheeky -- maybe putting an arm on my shoulder.. then one around my waist. One tried to give me a kiss and I firmly pushed him away and the photo session was over.

I was told later the young men like to take their picture with white girls and then show their friends as "their girlfriend."

After the Taj, I headed back to the hotel. There wasn't much I wanted to see in Agra. Mostly I wanted to catch a train out to Varanasi. Then I realized I had forgotten to book the train. By that time it was too late, the train was full. I could take a 14 hour bus, but I really didn't want to. I was stuck for another day in Agra. I decided to catch up on uploading photos and watching movies and relaxing. It was actually not too bad. My train was at 8 p.m. At 7, I caught a rickshaw and asked to be taken to the train station. At 8:05, I stood waiting for the train to come. I did notice that I didn't see any other white people around, which I thought was strange considering how full the train was supposed to be and what a touristy destination Varanasi is. An Indian gentleman took notice of me and came over to ask what train I was waiting for. I showed him my ticket and he grimaced. "You're at the wrong train station," he said. Oh NO! I thanked him and rushed out of the station. A fleet of young men surrounded me, "where do you want to go?" I told them and they all jostled to get my business. I didn't even try to haggle the price. "I don't care who takes me, they just have to be FAST!" I went with the guy whose rickshaw was closest and he was fantastic! He was very young but he drove like a madman -- like a getaway driver! I knew I was going to be stuck in Agra again because the Indian Railways are pretty darn efficient but I had a faint glimmer of hope since the other station was only 2 miles away. We bumped and careened there and I threw him a tip and raced onto the platform. THE TRAIN WAS LATE! Hurray!!!! I gasped for breath and dropped my stuff near a bunch of Israeli guys I recognized from my hotel. The train showed up 2 minutes later. I found my bunk and went to sleep pretty quickly.