My bus is late. And I'm on the local, boo his. I missed the direct shot to the Cameron Highlands by 20 minutes, confound it! So I'm off to Tapah for a connection to CH. The bus is super roomy. I didn't have to put my pack under the bus; it's at my feet and I still have leg room. Given that I'm supposed to transfer in a few hours, it's handier anyway.
Jo and I had bacon and fruit for lunch today before parting. Mmm. Tasty! The manager of the Summer Guesthouse was really good to us. It makes such a difference when the people at the place you're briefly calling home are caring and nice. I'd recommend this spot to anyone. Great location in the Golden Triangle and Linda, too? What a deal.
Almost 3 full weeks of traveling, 2 countries, 3 regrets. The third is my iTouch. That thing has wifi on it, which would have been so handy. What was I thinking? Oh, and 2 losses. The wrap I had to buy in Bangkok at the royal arts exhibit bit in the dust in Koh Phan Gan. And a pair of ratty square silver dangle earrings, too, have fallen by the wayside. C'est la vie! Meanwhile, what have I gained? Not sure how to measure it yet. But a container in peanut butter is in there somewhere, among, I hope, a bevy of profound feelings and thoughts.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
I'm watching you...
The sky unleashed a wrath on our tour of the 360 degree view at the top of the Menara Tower, which I've been calling the Needle for three days. Jo called it the Spike for the first two, but the Needle ultimately won. We agreed that the best time to head up to the top would be dusk, to see the city in both day and night settings. 
But clouds rolled in about an hour before we got there and after the sun did set came the rain.
The highest view you can reach of the city, a walking tour around the top supplies a fair amount of information, though outdated. You see the government headquarters, two stadiums, a great view of the Twin Towers, in the distance the Batu caves, Chinatown, among other KL sites.
The photographs of the landmarks and the pre-recorded walking tour could use a serious updating.
Back at the bottom, we stirred about, the rain preventing a return to our neighborhood. So we sat at a cafe and saw something neither of us had seen in our lives. A woman in full covering, all black with no eyelet cut in the material even for her eyes, slipped her tea cup under her veil to take a sip. You can't even show your face to drink tea. I can only imagine the torture of eating in public--impossible! I have done a little research and it turns out that this type of veil is called a niqab. Apparently, the more covered you are, the more sacred? Or the more likely to make it to heaven. From what I've read, according to the Koran women should be covered including hands (impractical, eh?) and face. What I can't seem to isolate is whether this veil is a choice/preference or encouraged/required. At any rate, I had never considered what it must be like to take a coffee in these clothes. Until today. I don't think I've ever sat and watched a woman drink tea for that matter. But today? I'm mesmerized.
After the top of the Needle, we cruised the animal kingdom. We arrived at dinner time as well, and got to see snakes eating mice, sometimes live, sometimes half-maimed.
In the case of the "dead" mice, the handlers would hold the mouse's tail and pull its neck. I couldn't watch or even be near it. Afterward, though, they were still twitching. We saw crazy looking frogs, a huge assortment of snakes, monkeys and spiders. One of the monkeys had just had a baby. Talk about a mini-human. Anyone who denies evolution as part of the path to humankind should get up close and personal with a baby monkey. The mother, quite protective, doesn't like it when women approach. Our guide informed us that with men, she's less worried, but with women, she goes on alert. Her look says it all, no?
But clouds rolled in about an hour before we got there and after the sun did set came the rain. The highest view you can reach of the city, a walking tour around the top supplies a fair amount of information, though outdated. You see the government headquarters, two stadiums, a great view of the Twin Towers, in the distance the Batu caves, Chinatown, among other KL sites.
The photographs of the landmarks and the pre-recorded walking tour could use a serious updating. Back at the bottom, we stirred about, the rain preventing a return to our neighborhood. So we sat at a cafe and saw something neither of us had seen in our lives. A woman in full covering, all black with no eyelet cut in the material even for her eyes, slipped her tea cup under her veil to take a sip. You can't even show your face to drink tea. I can only imagine the torture of eating in public--impossible! I have done a little research and it turns out that this type of veil is called a niqab. Apparently, the more covered you are, the more sacred? Or the more likely to make it to heaven. From what I've read, according to the Koran women should be covered including hands (impractical, eh?) and face. What I can't seem to isolate is whether this veil is a choice/preference or encouraged/required. At any rate, I had never considered what it must be like to take a coffee in these clothes. Until today. I don't think I've ever sat and watched a woman drink tea for that matter. But today? I'm mesmerized.
After the top of the Needle, we cruised the animal kingdom. We arrived at dinner time as well, and got to see snakes eating mice, sometimes live, sometimes half-maimed.
In the case of the "dead" mice, the handlers would hold the mouse's tail and pull its neck. I couldn't watch or even be near it. Afterward, though, they were still twitching. We saw crazy looking frogs, a huge assortment of snakes, monkeys and spiders. One of the monkeys had just had a baby. Talk about a mini-human. Anyone who denies evolution as part of the path to humankind should get up close and personal with a baby monkey. The mother, quite protective, doesn't like it when women approach. Our guide informed us that with men, she's less worried, but with women, she goes on alert. Her look says it all, no?
Sunday, March 29, 2009
To the Batu Caves!
Jo and I woke up in the bunker, hot as Hades, and set the course for the day. To the Caves! We have meandered the streets of KL, not really sure where we're going, but certain we'll get there. There is a telecom needle here like in Seattle, only they just call it the Tower. It serves as an awesome directional point. Our guesthouse is between the Twin Towers and the Tower so when lost all we do is look up.
Finally to Chinatown for the bus to the caves, we skirted the wares and braved the sellers of the Petaling market district.
Who knew you could get a fake Gucci watch for $40, walk away, walk back, walk away, walk back and walk away again with it on your arm with the band fitted to your size for $5?!? And if anyone wants a pirated DVD, this is the place!
The number 11D bus makes the 13 km trip out of KL to the caves. We found the bus and ran to the 7-11 (talk about an international company) for a quick snack, only to return to find the driver had left us. Buses leave fairly regularly, so no worries. Quick warning: don't sit in the last seat of the bus. Going over one of the many speed bumps, you may find yourself in the lap of your neighbor.
At the caves site, a huge golden Hindu Buddha stands at the gate, almost as high as the staircase leading into the caves. It's enormous.
Up 250+ steps to a series Hindu temples, prayer services are offered twice daily. Incense and mist hangs in the air as do many stalagmites. The mood inside is peaceful and serious, a place for prayer and to show thanks. I had a personal moment there, one of reassurance and comfort.
Two flights down from the top, you can also enter the dark cave. With Wellington boots, head lamps and Jerome, our guide, we trekked into the darkness. Three kinds of bats greet you as you walk along. None blood-thirsty. And there are cockroaches everywhere, but not the ones who fly. The cockroaches are sun-sensitive and will die in the light. Nice to know there is one thing that could wipe out at least one species of cockroaches.
Further into the cave, Jerome showed us stalagmites and stalactites and the columns they form upon joining.
He also shared several stories of lore, a couple coming to the caves for their honeymoon, never to be heard from again. Certain parts of the cave are millions of years old. Unbelievable. And the path you walk along used to be a river. Jerome asked us how we liked Malaysia, to which both of us responded with favor. He retorted that we obviously hadn't been there long. Funny. He's from Malaysia but finds it difficult, restrictive. The Muslim religion apparently trumps all. If a Muslim wants to marry a person outside that faith, the person must convert (unless the couple goes to a different country). Jerome is Christian and I'm guessing in a minority. He also confided that the Chinese and Indians are the ones who do all the work. Hmm. Who knows? It's good to hear the perspective of someone here, and an expression of dissent. I got the feeling that in Thailand you could speak your mind, but only about certain things, one of which wasn't the government. I am learning. I am listening. And I'm fascinated. We are each and every one unique. Whether a 28 year-old tour guide and spelunker, or a 17 year-old Iranian, our opinions vary far and wide, each of us an exception in some way.
Finally to Chinatown for the bus to the caves, we skirted the wares and braved the sellers of the Petaling market district.
Who knew you could get a fake Gucci watch for $40, walk away, walk back, walk away, walk back and walk away again with it on your arm with the band fitted to your size for $5?!? And if anyone wants a pirated DVD, this is the place!The number 11D bus makes the 13 km trip out of KL to the caves. We found the bus and ran to the 7-11 (talk about an international company) for a quick snack, only to return to find the driver had left us. Buses leave fairly regularly, so no worries. Quick warning: don't sit in the last seat of the bus. Going over one of the many speed bumps, you may find yourself in the lap of your neighbor.
At the caves site, a huge golden Hindu Buddha stands at the gate, almost as high as the staircase leading into the caves. It's enormous.
Up 250+ steps to a series Hindu temples, prayer services are offered twice daily. Incense and mist hangs in the air as do many stalagmites. The mood inside is peaceful and serious, a place for prayer and to show thanks. I had a personal moment there, one of reassurance and comfort. Two flights down from the top, you can also enter the dark cave. With Wellington boots, head lamps and Jerome, our guide, we trekked into the darkness. Three kinds of bats greet you as you walk along. None blood-thirsty. And there are cockroaches everywhere, but not the ones who fly. The cockroaches are sun-sensitive and will die in the light. Nice to know there is one thing that could wipe out at least one species of cockroaches.
Further into the cave, Jerome showed us stalagmites and stalactites and the columns they form upon joining.
He also shared several stories of lore, a couple coming to the caves for their honeymoon, never to be heard from again. Certain parts of the cave are millions of years old. Unbelievable. And the path you walk along used to be a river. Jerome asked us how we liked Malaysia, to which both of us responded with favor. He retorted that we obviously hadn't been there long. Funny. He's from Malaysia but finds it difficult, restrictive. The Muslim religion apparently trumps all. If a Muslim wants to marry a person outside that faith, the person must convert (unless the couple goes to a different country). Jerome is Christian and I'm guessing in a minority. He also confided that the Chinese and Indians are the ones who do all the work. Hmm. Who knows? It's good to hear the perspective of someone here, and an expression of dissent. I got the feeling that in Thailand you could speak your mind, but only about certain things, one of which wasn't the government. I am learning. I am listening. And I'm fascinated. We are each and every one unique. Whether a 28 year-old tour guide and spelunker, or a 17 year-old Iranian, our opinions vary far and wide, each of us an exception in some way.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
KL, anyone?
So this morning, everyone was up early, Jo and Tom to catch flights, the others, who knows why. I figured, "What the hell?" and joined the two. At the airport I got on the same flight as they headed for Kuala Lumpur. An hour later, we touched down in KL. From the domestic airport to the Sentral train station, Jo and I said goodbye to Tom and hoppd on the monorail. Packs and all. Fifteen million stares later and a photo having been taken of us by two Chinese dudes, we found a place to stay.
In what they call the Golden Triangle, we are at Summer Guest House. We surveyed a few recommended spots but decided on a basement room at Summer. It's in the basement, no window and is basically a bunker.
The fan in the room at max capacity sounds like a chopper above you and is actually pretty soothing when trying to get to sleep. Linda, the manager of the house gave us a good deal and we'd seen a couple of strange places already.
The Golden Triangle is shopping mecca in KL. They even have a Forever 32 (as I call it). We spent the day walking getting acclimated with the city. I dropped off some laundry and we explored the city. In the evening, we took an outside bistro table and ordered chicken with coconut milk rice. It was good but spicy. And as they dropped us the bill, they told us we had to pay right then. The prices apparently change for dinner at 7pm and, from what we understood, we had to pay right then to avoid paying dinner prices.
The family of six next to us, however, had not yet received much less paid their bill. I have to admit, I'm still confused why they wanted us out so quickly.
After dinner, we headed for the Petronas Towers. Malaysia's Twin Towers were built of Islamic construction out of a special cement in squares fitted on top of each other to make an octagon, a traditional Islamic design. At one point, the lights of both buildings went out. I figured, hmph, it's run by a gas company. Maybe they cut off the lights to conserve energy. We then realized that it was in honor of Earth hour. How cool, right? It hurts a little bit, I have to admit, to look around here and see so many things that New York has (or once had). A Times Square, Twin Towers. I cannot imagine what would have happened were the attack to have happened here. It's still unimaginable and staring up at these buildings, it was magnificent and yet painful. The city is a huge mix of cultures and religions just like New York.
In what they call the Golden Triangle, we are at Summer Guest House. We surveyed a few recommended spots but decided on a basement room at Summer. It's in the basement, no window and is basically a bunker.
The fan in the room at max capacity sounds like a chopper above you and is actually pretty soothing when trying to get to sleep. Linda, the manager of the house gave us a good deal and we'd seen a couple of strange places already.The Golden Triangle is shopping mecca in KL. They even have a Forever 32 (as I call it). We spent the day walking getting acclimated with the city. I dropped off some laundry and we explored the city. In the evening, we took an outside bistro table and ordered chicken with coconut milk rice. It was good but spicy. And as they dropped us the bill, they told us we had to pay right then. The prices apparently change for dinner at 7pm and, from what we understood, we had to pay right then to avoid paying dinner prices.
The family of six next to us, however, had not yet received much less paid their bill. I have to admit, I'm still confused why they wanted us out so quickly. After dinner, we headed for the Petronas Towers. Malaysia's Twin Towers were built of Islamic construction out of a special cement in squares fitted on top of each other to make an octagon, a traditional Islamic design. At one point, the lights of both buildings went out. I figured, hmph, it's run by a gas company. Maybe they cut off the lights to conserve energy. We then realized that it was in honor of Earth hour. How cool, right? It hurts a little bit, I have to admit, to look around here and see so many things that New York has (or once had). A Times Square, Twin Towers. I cannot imagine what would have happened were the attack to have happened here. It's still unimaginable and staring up at these buildings, it was magnificent and yet painful. The city is a huge mix of cultures and religions just like New York.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Touring Langkawi
Today the whole dorm rented a car. Well, a station wagon really. A Scotsman, a Peruvian, a Tasmanian, four English and me. Magnus, Rafael, Michael, Elzie, Jo, Gemma, Tom all formed the first National Lampoon's Langkawi Vacation. Eight of us piled in a station wagon, our first stop was up the Langkawi cable cars for a panoramoic view of the island. The cable car cuts a sharp angle up and down the mountain. I got scared at certain points and I'm not that frightened of heights. 
The car moves up the mountain attachd to the cable rather than along it which surprised me.
On the top of the mountain there is a bridge extending out into the mountains and surrounding fog. You can see Thailand from up there and get a reflexology foot rub. Nice! The highest two viewing points are up stairs above the bridge and get a nice breeze. Back down the mountain on the cable car, I had my bad to the descent. At one point, I turned around and almost lost it. Looking behind you through glass to find nothing but a steep fall, my feet tingled and stomach dropped.
We stopped for lunch in a small Muslim village. The first group ate most of the food at the only stall that was willing to serve scantily clad foreigners. Jo and I tried a few other spots that all claimed to be finished for the day. We stopped at another stall where a nice woman had cabbage, bean sprouts, carrots, garlic, chicken on ice and three kinds of noodles. Sounds good to me. She added in some chilis to spice mine and it was delicious. We were happy to have waited. The first group had only fried stuff.
Next stop to the seven wells, we hiked up a few hundred steps to a waterfall we'd seen from the cable car ride. A huge tree off to the right had been uprooted whole and landed on a shelter. Only, the tree didn't look like it could have fallen on its own. It looked like someone (God) had just yanked it out like a weed and crushed the shelter with it. The wells were chilly and it rained a bit but the view was nice as was being in nature.
We watched the sun go down at a beach on the top of the island. We affectionately named it shit and shells beach. Looked like the cows fancied it as much as anybody. There was a swing, too, which made Elzie happy. So, sunset, good fun, Skol beer and a soccer ball. What else do you know in life? Oh, yeah! Maybe a sarong. Tom and Magnus had picked up a couple for themselves in the Muslim village, donning their new purchases as the sun went down,
proud to be in skirts.
As the sun said goodnight, our evennig began. Back to the dorm for a shower (for some of us, myself included), we set off for the beach for drinks and then on to several bars. Dancing, drinking. Ladyboys. Gays. Straights. All having a ball.
The car moves up the mountain attachd to the cable rather than along it which surprised me.On the top of the mountain there is a bridge extending out into the mountains and surrounding fog. You can see Thailand from up there and get a reflexology foot rub. Nice! The highest two viewing points are up stairs above the bridge and get a nice breeze. Back down the mountain on the cable car, I had my bad to the descent. At one point, I turned around and almost lost it. Looking behind you through glass to find nothing but a steep fall, my feet tingled and stomach dropped.
We stopped for lunch in a small Muslim village. The first group ate most of the food at the only stall that was willing to serve scantily clad foreigners. Jo and I tried a few other spots that all claimed to be finished for the day. We stopped at another stall where a nice woman had cabbage, bean sprouts, carrots, garlic, chicken on ice and three kinds of noodles. Sounds good to me. She added in some chilis to spice mine and it was delicious. We were happy to have waited. The first group had only fried stuff.
Next stop to the seven wells, we hiked up a few hundred steps to a waterfall we'd seen from the cable car ride. A huge tree off to the right had been uprooted whole and landed on a shelter. Only, the tree didn't look like it could have fallen on its own. It looked like someone (God) had just yanked it out like a weed and crushed the shelter with it. The wells were chilly and it rained a bit but the view was nice as was being in nature.
We watched the sun go down at a beach on the top of the island. We affectionately named it shit and shells beach. Looked like the cows fancied it as much as anybody. There was a swing, too, which made Elzie happy. So, sunset, good fun, Skol beer and a soccer ball. What else do you know in life? Oh, yeah! Maybe a sarong. Tom and Magnus had picked up a couple for themselves in the Muslim village, donning their new purchases as the sun went down,
proud to be in skirts.
As the sun said goodnight, our evennig began. Back to the dorm for a shower (for some of us, myself included), we set off for the beach for drinks and then on to several bars. Dancing, drinking. Ladyboys. Gays. Straights. All having a ball.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
More than half a world away
Second night on Langkawi. Roberta. A fun, wild Italian.
We chatted with the Iranians and Roberta got chills at one point. Moji didn't know that the airplanes that had targeted the Twin Towers were full of people. Somehow he didn't know (or it had never been reported in his news) that the planes were full of passengers and that that's how word got out that the flights had been high-jacked. Throughout the night, we had moments of shock, pure disbelief. This world. It's so small and yet still so big. We're separated by so much more than we realize. Borders the physical walls but too often so much more than that.
We chatted with the Iranians and Roberta got chills at one point. Moji didn't know that the airplanes that had targeted the Twin Towers were full of people. Somehow he didn't know (or it had never been reported in his news) that the planes were full of passengers and that that's how word got out that the flights had been high-jacked. Throughout the night, we had moments of shock, pure disbelief. This world. It's so small and yet still so big. We're separated by so much more than we realize. Borders the physical walls but too often so much more than that.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Breathe
It's a new day. Yesterday, the rain poured and today nothing but blue sky. I loved Satun. Small town, you can walk around at night alone. I wore a scarf as it rained lightly through the evening and found it nice. I'd have thought having to wear a head scarf would be bad but it prove beneficial. Granted, I didn't have to wear it. I chose to do so. When covered up, people seem to pay less attention to you. You're incognito, masked, under cover.
On the ferry to Langkawi this morning, I met a couple who've been sailing the world for the last 16 years. The sea their front yard. And back yard. And swimming pool. Hmm...market probably, too. I can't imagine my home being a boat, but maybe that will change.
Langkawi is an exhale. A much needed sigh of relief. It's really small. I've booked a dorm bed in at a place called Gecko Guesthouse
(doesn't seem to have a website) on Pentai Cenang. Langkawi is getting there. Construction is still in infancy stages of development. There are no major Miami skyscraper hotels beachfront, all restaurants and shops seem locally owned and run. No Starbucks, although there was one at the ferry station. The people are chill. Lots of reggae culture and dreads. There may be as many travelers as locals but we seem to be greeted with hospitality. Oh, and cats. I've not seen a single dog but tons of cats. They're everywhere. Add up all the dogs and chickens in Thailand and it might equal the cats in Langkawi.
On the ferry to Langkawi this morning, I met a couple who've been sailing the world for the last 16 years. The sea their front yard. And back yard. And swimming pool. Hmm...market probably, too. I can't imagine my home being a boat, but maybe that will change.
Langkawi is an exhale. A much needed sigh of relief. It's really small. I've booked a dorm bed in at a place called Gecko Guesthouse
(doesn't seem to have a website) on Pentai Cenang. Langkawi is getting there. Construction is still in infancy stages of development. There are no major Miami skyscraper hotels beachfront, all restaurants and shops seem locally owned and run. No Starbucks, although there was one at the ferry station. The people are chill. Lots of reggae culture and dreads. There may be as many travelers as locals but we seem to be greeted with hospitality. Oh, and cats. I've not seen a single dog but tons of cats. They're everywhere. Add up all the dogs and chickens in Thailand and it might equal the cats in Langkawi.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Satunalia
This morning I thought, "Please, God. Get me off this island. And please, God, out of Thailand." I'm not sure the Thais like me so much. It makes me miss South America. The people. The landscape. 
And yet, check out the landscape. Sometimes, we just don't realize things, do we? I saw the sunrise this morning, up early to catch a boat. I made it on the ferry back to the mainland and I'm singing the theme song to Reading Rainbow. Remember that one?? I hope it's a good sign.
Everywhere you turn in Thailand, there are photos of the monarchy. On the sides of buildings, outside peoples' homes, inside their homes, they are everywhere. While I am far from royalty, I cannot imagine what it must be like to have your picture displayed literally everywhere. At first I thought it was out of homage or pride, which may still ring true, but I'm wondering also if by chance the images are erected, for example, on an overpass because the royal family sponsored the building of it. Or perhaps, it's keeping up with the Joneses, and that you're uncool if you don't have a clock with the face of the royal family. Who knows?
I am bound for Satun today in a full air-conditioned minivan. We just passed what looked like a cemetery. Small monuments built into the side of a hill, like a mini memorial built for a family or person, it looks like a place for prayer. It makes me wonder. What is the custom here for death? Burial rites? We also just passed a mosque. Good sign. The closer you get to Malaysia (the closer I'm out of Thailand), the religion and culture shifts more to Muslim.
At Hat Yai, the sky opened up and began monsoon season, I'm afraid. Unable to drive, I got stalled for an hour en route to Satun. To anyone ever traveling through Surat Thani, Thailand to Langkawi, Malaysia: DO NOT buy a ferry ticket for Langkawi ahead of time. I repeat, DO NOT buy your ferry ticket from anyone but the ferry ticket seller. Yes, it's official. I got scammed. Have I mentioned that I'm ready for a new country? Oh, and on a personal note, somewhere between Samui and Satun, I developed body odor. The horror!
So, Satun. My last stop in Thailand for now. I'm staying at Odumsuk Hotel and the manager is really nice. She gave me a bottle of water once in my room, and there are 2 glasses, 2 towels, 2 pillows. A'ight! Walking the small town streets, I can hear singing in the background. It's beautiful. I think it's a Muslim prayer or call to worship. This town is a mix of Malay and Thai, Muslim, Buddhist and there's even a Christian church. Arriving here in the evening is nice.
The main drag looks like an amusement park. There are neon lights covering the streets, and just a touch from the road is a ferris wheel. Fun! And the people. I'm the only foreigner and yet everyone greets me with smiles. The manager of the hotel drew me a detailed map of the town so that I could catch a songtheow (orange pick-up truck with benches in the back, a makeshift bus) to the ferry tomorrow morning. She included distance (150 meters) from block to block, churches and mosques, banks and restaurants. This puppy is handy.
I cruised Satun's night market for a bite to eat and picked up the essentials. Bread for breakfast, cashews and a pear. This night market is a wonder. All kinds of meat on a stick, balls of all sorts, as well, whether meat cheese, rice, or a surprise, and there is this big block of black gelatin on ice. No clue. Wait...was that jelly doughnuts? Why, yes. It was. And here's pizza. Not only religiously diverse but also gastronomically? For a tiny town that no one really thinks to visit, this place is a festival! Go 'head Satun. I brought a little something back for the manager and her daughter to snack on. Kindness begets kindness.
And yet, check out the landscape. Sometimes, we just don't realize things, do we? I saw the sunrise this morning, up early to catch a boat. I made it on the ferry back to the mainland and I'm singing the theme song to Reading Rainbow. Remember that one?? I hope it's a good sign.Everywhere you turn in Thailand, there are photos of the monarchy. On the sides of buildings, outside peoples' homes, inside their homes, they are everywhere. While I am far from royalty, I cannot imagine what it must be like to have your picture displayed literally everywhere. At first I thought it was out of homage or pride, which may still ring true, but I'm wondering also if by chance the images are erected, for example, on an overpass because the royal family sponsored the building of it. Or perhaps, it's keeping up with the Joneses, and that you're uncool if you don't have a clock with the face of the royal family. Who knows?
I am bound for Satun today in a full air-conditioned minivan. We just passed what looked like a cemetery. Small monuments built into the side of a hill, like a mini memorial built for a family or person, it looks like a place for prayer. It makes me wonder. What is the custom here for death? Burial rites? We also just passed a mosque. Good sign. The closer you get to Malaysia (the closer I'm out of Thailand), the religion and culture shifts more to Muslim.
At Hat Yai, the sky opened up and began monsoon season, I'm afraid. Unable to drive, I got stalled for an hour en route to Satun. To anyone ever traveling through Surat Thani, Thailand to Langkawi, Malaysia: DO NOT buy a ferry ticket for Langkawi ahead of time. I repeat, DO NOT buy your ferry ticket from anyone but the ferry ticket seller. Yes, it's official. I got scammed. Have I mentioned that I'm ready for a new country? Oh, and on a personal note, somewhere between Samui and Satun, I developed body odor. The horror!
So, Satun. My last stop in Thailand for now. I'm staying at Odumsuk Hotel and the manager is really nice. She gave me a bottle of water once in my room, and there are 2 glasses, 2 towels, 2 pillows. A'ight! Walking the small town streets, I can hear singing in the background. It's beautiful. I think it's a Muslim prayer or call to worship. This town is a mix of Malay and Thai, Muslim, Buddhist and there's even a Christian church. Arriving here in the evening is nice.
The main drag looks like an amusement park. There are neon lights covering the streets, and just a touch from the road is a ferris wheel. Fun! And the people. I'm the only foreigner and yet everyone greets me with smiles. The manager of the hotel drew me a detailed map of the town so that I could catch a songtheow (orange pick-up truck with benches in the back, a makeshift bus) to the ferry tomorrow morning. She included distance (150 meters) from block to block, churches and mosques, banks and restaurants. This puppy is handy. I cruised Satun's night market for a bite to eat and picked up the essentials. Bread for breakfast, cashews and a pear. This night market is a wonder. All kinds of meat on a stick, balls of all sorts, as well, whether meat cheese, rice, or a surprise, and there is this big block of black gelatin on ice. No clue. Wait...was that jelly doughnuts? Why, yes. It was. And here's pizza. Not only religiously diverse but also gastronomically? For a tiny town that no one really thinks to visit, this place is a festival! Go 'head Satun. I brought a little something back for the manager and her daughter to snack on. Kindness begets kindness.
Monday, March 23, 2009
What's the story?
I made it to Koh Samui today and met Dennis. A Swiss French, he's lived here for 12 years and recommended I stay at Morning Glory. Excellent! After cruising Bo Phut, the Fisherman's Village and finding no reasonable accommodation, I took him up on the offer. He told me to hang out for a sec, that he'd even take me there. This must be the day of generosity, or maybe just free rides. Either way, I'll take it.
I sat down with Dennis and up walked Peter, an Irishman. We all cheersed with a beer and chatted. And as a scary, fat old dude was about to take off on his moped, he offered me free lodging. Well, I'd never been offered free accommodation and didn't know how to respond. I stuttered...well... "You want to stay for free at my house?" he reiterated. Dennis muttered, "I don't think that's what you want." Then the old fat man said, "Free. Boom, boom. Tuki, tuki," or something which needed to translation. Eww. No, thank you. Free? He couldn't pay me enough. Good riddance.
So at Morning Glory, the road was fenced off. As it turns out, the joint's been cut off, no electricity, no water. The owner, an Austrian man, had apparently failed to pay for the road access, even though he owns the land. From what I hear, most of these islands are mafia run, price regulated by them, anyone deviating from them punished. In some way or another. So Dennis offered his own house. He said he has a comfy sofa that I was welcome to call home for a few days. Here's the rule. If I won't do it in New York, I won't do it anywhere else. So I did my best to graciously refuse. He seemed a bit rejected but I think I made the wise decision. I ended up at Rainbow Bungalows just down the beach and tomorrow am headed south. I am ready to get to another country entirely. Things haven't seemed to go so well these past few days. Whether me or something else in the world, the best part about traveling is that you can leave.
I sat down with Dennis and up walked Peter, an Irishman. We all cheersed with a beer and chatted. And as a scary, fat old dude was about to take off on his moped, he offered me free lodging. Well, I'd never been offered free accommodation and didn't know how to respond. I stuttered...well... "You want to stay for free at my house?" he reiterated. Dennis muttered, "I don't think that's what you want." Then the old fat man said, "Free. Boom, boom. Tuki, tuki," or something which needed to translation. Eww. No, thank you. Free? He couldn't pay me enough. Good riddance.
So at Morning Glory, the road was fenced off. As it turns out, the joint's been cut off, no electricity, no water. The owner, an Austrian man, had apparently failed to pay for the road access, even though he owns the land. From what I hear, most of these islands are mafia run, price regulated by them, anyone deviating from them punished. In some way or another. So Dennis offered his own house. He said he has a comfy sofa that I was welcome to call home for a few days. Here's the rule. If I won't do it in New York, I won't do it anywhere else. So I did my best to graciously refuse. He seemed a bit rejected but I think I made the wise decision. I ended up at Rainbow Bungalows just down the beach and tomorrow am headed south. I am ready to get to another country entirely. Things haven't seemed to go so well these past few days. Whether me or something else in the world, the best part about traveling is that you can leave.
God bless Harley Davidson
Tough, Thai and generous. Cruising up the hills with my 30 pound pack on my back, I held on to a woman who offered me a lift to the pier. On her Harley! Hell, yes! Talk about an abs workout. Up hills and down and twists and turns...nice!
Sometimes I think the universe speaks to you, or maybe on behalf of you. After the encounter with the nasty wife, I went to get money from the ATM. One of which malfunctioned, the other of which was being reloaded. Bahtless with no way to the pier, leaving on bad terms, here came a lady on a Harley. God bless America. No charge, just out of the goodness of her heart, she was headed that way and gave me a lift. It may have been the adorable plaid jumper I was wearing...but, honestly, I don't think it had a thing to do with me. She had a good deed for the day in her sights, and thankfully I was the recipient.
Sometimes I think the universe speaks to you, or maybe on behalf of you. After the encounter with the nasty wife, I went to get money from the ATM. One of which malfunctioned, the other of which was being reloaded. Bahtless with no way to the pier, leaving on bad terms, here came a lady on a Harley. God bless America. No charge, just out of the goodness of her heart, she was headed that way and gave me a lift. It may have been the adorable plaid jumper I was wearing...but, honestly, I don't think it had a thing to do with me. She had a good deed for the day in her sights, and thankfully I was the recipient.
Can I have a...?
So this morning for breakfast before I even opened the menu, the wife asked me where I was headed today. Hmm. "Nowhere," I replied. How wrong I was. Since I had told her 2 nights on the day I checked in, she assumed I was leaving today. No one asked if I'd like the room another night. And posted on the door of the bungalow is a notice of house rules, one of which states that you have to notify them one day before leaving. I notified no one and so thought I could chill out a few days more. So not so. We exchanged words and she told me there were no other available bungalows. Great. So I guess I'm out.
She goes to greet others who've come for breakfast, takes their order, brings their drinks, never again looking my way. Sitting. Sitting. Sitting. She feeds the cat and dog, hollars at someone in the back. Sitting. Sitting. Sitting. And she disappears. Ok. I can take a hint.
I take to my bungalow, perch on the top step and cry like a little girl. A few moments later, I pack. When almost finished, along comes the husband. "Excuse me, miss? We have one room, shared bathroom, for 200 baht. Would you like to see?" Interesting. Upon arrival two days prior, the wife said there was no acomodation for less than the 500 I paid for the beachfront bungalow I was now getting kicked out of. And so I berated him. "I don't know what your wife's problem is with me. I have been nice and clean. I have eaten at the restaurant and your mother has been kind to me. What is her problem?!?" He did not know where to start. Or finish. I told him I didn't want any part of the place any longer. I asked if I could now have my breakfast, ate, paid and left. Isn't this beginning to sound redundant? So maybe it's me.
At any rate, I'm off to Koh Samui. Let's hope there are no nasty, glasses-wearing fishing village, bungalow-running, fibbing wives to encounter. And can someone chant or something for me? It seems most appropriate.
She goes to greet others who've come for breakfast, takes their order, brings their drinks, never again looking my way. Sitting. Sitting. Sitting. She feeds the cat and dog, hollars at someone in the back. Sitting. Sitting. Sitting. And she disappears. Ok. I can take a hint.
I take to my bungalow, perch on the top step and cry like a little girl. A few moments later, I pack. When almost finished, along comes the husband. "Excuse me, miss? We have one room, shared bathroom, for 200 baht. Would you like to see?" Interesting. Upon arrival two days prior, the wife said there was no acomodation for less than the 500 I paid for the beachfront bungalow I was now getting kicked out of. And so I berated him. "I don't know what your wife's problem is with me. I have been nice and clean. I have eaten at the restaurant and your mother has been kind to me. What is her problem?!?" He did not know where to start. Or finish. I told him I didn't want any part of the place any longer. I asked if I could now have my breakfast, ate, paid and left. Isn't this beginning to sound redundant? So maybe it's me.
At any rate, I'm off to Koh Samui. Let's hope there are no nasty, glasses-wearing fishing village, bungalow-running, fibbing wives to encounter. And can someone chant or something for me? It seems most appropriate.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
So here's the funny thing about Neutragena 45. The sun here is about level 145. And, no, I'm not laughing about it at the moment. I am a big red blob. Traveling on one's own has it perks. Having someone else to apply liberal amounts of sun screen to your skin is not one of them.
There are bats here. I'm not sure what kind but it's inspired me to shut and lock my windows at night. The swooped past my bungalow just after dusk. And there are also salamanders everywhere. They make a lot of noise!
There are bats here. I'm not sure what kind but it's inspired me to shut and lock my windows at night. The swooped past my bungalow just after dusk. And there are also salamanders everywhere. They make a lot of noise!
First regrets
It took some doing to arrive at the date today. I knew I left NYC on Monday the 9th but couldn't resolve what that made today.
I spent most of the day organizing. I washed clothes, always fun. You never know what the detergent will smell like! I checked a few things on the internet and tended to the knee. Betadyne is the cure-all here. Regret # 1: I forgot Neosporin and only realized it once I needed it. Regret #2: I forgot peanut butter. Heather...weren't you supposed to be in charge of making sure I had that?!?! At least peanuts are in steady supply to assuage such cravings. They have, in fact, become a meal a day, usually lunch.
Happy to have some solitude, I am not alone, just among strangers. And few at that. I am reading short stories, the greatest travel writers of the US year 2007 for inspiration. One of the writers today mentioned that you have to be able to deal with yourself--just you--when you travel. If you get squirrely, you lose it. I don't get nervous or worried so much, generally just miss certain people. I have yet to cry from it...still too early.
A fair amount of the day was also spent fending off a colony of ants. They have gone on attack. Nothing humanly edible inside, they seem to love Queen Helene cocoa butter lotion and savor Crest cool mint get. All of my stuff rinsed of the creatures, everything in my bungalow is now hanging in some sort of bag from the ceiling, to stave off further curiousity, aka infestation.
At dinner the lady of the house wrapped up my leg. Very sweet. I think she is the owner, her son and his wife, and a baby sister all run the place. The wife...not so nice with me. I'm not sure the deal but she's just plain nasty.
I spent most of the day organizing. I washed clothes, always fun. You never know what the detergent will smell like! I checked a few things on the internet and tended to the knee. Betadyne is the cure-all here. Regret # 1: I forgot Neosporin and only realized it once I needed it. Regret #2: I forgot peanut butter. Heather...weren't you supposed to be in charge of making sure I had that?!?! At least peanuts are in steady supply to assuage such cravings. They have, in fact, become a meal a day, usually lunch.
Happy to have some solitude, I am not alone, just among strangers. And few at that. I am reading short stories, the greatest travel writers of the US year 2007 for inspiration. One of the writers today mentioned that you have to be able to deal with yourself--just you--when you travel. If you get squirrely, you lose it. I don't get nervous or worried so much, generally just miss certain people. I have yet to cry from it...still too early.
A fair amount of the day was also spent fending off a colony of ants. They have gone on attack. Nothing humanly edible inside, they seem to love Queen Helene cocoa butter lotion and savor Crest cool mint get. All of my stuff rinsed of the creatures, everything in my bungalow is now hanging in some sort of bag from the ceiling, to stave off further curiousity, aka infestation.
At dinner the lady of the house wrapped up my leg. Very sweet. I think she is the owner, her son and his wife, and a baby sister all run the place. The wife...not so nice with me. I'm not sure the deal but she's just plain nasty.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Bungalow 11
I am in Chaloklum. Finally. 
Fanta Bungalow #11 and I'm set. It makes me miss Montanita in Ecuador and my friends there.
A fishing village stuck in a bay, this place is calm. Serene. Just what I have been looking for. It's going to start to settle in. I am on vacation.
Longtail fishing boats skirt in and out of the bay throughout the day. Walking into "town" one finds dried squid and huge fish hanging tail to head. The water is crystal green and the sun all power.
This spot is on the northern part of the island, so the sunsets aren't as spectacular as I imagine on the western side, but I am content, still.
Fanta Bungalow #11 and I'm set. It makes me miss Montanita in Ecuador and my friends there. A fishing village stuck in a bay, this place is calm. Serene. Just what I have been looking for. It's going to start to settle in. I am on vacation.
Longtail fishing boats skirt in and out of the bay throughout the day. Walking into "town" one finds dried squid and huge fish hanging tail to head. The water is crystal green and the sun all power.
This spot is on the northern part of the island, so the sunsets aren't as spectacular as I imagine on the western side, but I am content, still.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Ain't no freehouse
I left Chiang Mai last night on a bus. I know...another bus? Necessary to get to Bangkok to fly to the south. Thai island hopping, here we come!
I made it to Bangkok's international airport at 8 am for a flight a few hours later. My first domestic flight a week and
two days into the trip, it's pretty much the opposite of South America. People eat interesting thngs here for breakfast. French fries, sushi, chicken and rice. I guess it could be dinnertime for any of them though, headed wherever else in the world. Or maybe that's normal breakfast fare. The coffee here is strong. Enough to have taken me years back to adding sugar to coffee.
So having landed in Surat Thani, I had to bus it to the ferry pier, then ferry it to Koh Pangang. A full 24 hours later, from Chiang Mai to final destination, I gambled and agreed to stay at a place on the island called Treehouse. It's new and hard to find, recommended by an Englishman on the ferry who was also on the bus with me. His friends are the owners and he said he'd do his best to get me a deal or something. And it's much closer to where I want to stay than the pier, so I figured easier to get where I was going. We loaded into a taxi at set off for the place. A half hour later, the taxi drops us off in the darkness at a makeshift bridge that crosses a stream. We have to hike the rest of the way, pack and all. No worries, I figure. I'm up for an adventure. Along the dirt road, we meet a bevvy of barking dogs, whose owner steers us in the right direction. In the fading light of Glyn's cell phone, I fell. Bleeding, sweating, unsure the place really existed, we came upon a creature in the woods. Nice. The chupacabra. Or maybe a bear, I thought. Yeah, a tropical bear. Turned out to be a pony.
We did finally make it to the place. I got introduced by the Englishman as the girl he just met on the ferry. Nice. And I paid more than I had hoped for any room, much less his buddy's place.
Oh, well. Whatever. So we dined with a South African couple, the German couple owners and her father. The South Africans offered food and drink as did the owners to both of us. I too pitched in with beers and orderd my own meal. As for Glyn. Nada. So. He bought nothing, paid half for the taxi up to the place in the middle of nowhere, arranged nothing and said nothing about it.
Hell, he even used my guidebook to indicate to the taxi driver where we were headed.
I woke up to men sweeping the dirt around my bungalow. Weird. And someone cranking the engine of some vehicle. See, my bungalow, unlike the free one Glyn had, was next to the main house where all activities take place. I wasn't even beachfront! The place has no internet access. And to get to where I wanted to stay would cost 5 times by boat from the Treehouse than would heading back to the pier, where I was just last night, and then shooting over to my desired spot. So after two cups of coffee, both of which I paid for, I paid my bill. And I left. The female owner looked at me shocked. "But you haven't even been to the beach yet." Hmph. I wanted to ask, "How much should I fork out for that?"
I made it to Bangkok's international airport at 8 am for a flight a few hours later. My first domestic flight a week and
two days into the trip, it's pretty much the opposite of South America. People eat interesting thngs here for breakfast. French fries, sushi, chicken and rice. I guess it could be dinnertime for any of them though, headed wherever else in the world. Or maybe that's normal breakfast fare. The coffee here is strong. Enough to have taken me years back to adding sugar to coffee.So having landed in Surat Thani, I had to bus it to the ferry pier, then ferry it to Koh Pangang. A full 24 hours later, from Chiang Mai to final destination, I gambled and agreed to stay at a place on the island called Treehouse. It's new and hard to find, recommended by an Englishman on the ferry who was also on the bus with me. His friends are the owners and he said he'd do his best to get me a deal or something. And it's much closer to where I want to stay than the pier, so I figured easier to get where I was going. We loaded into a taxi at set off for the place. A half hour later, the taxi drops us off in the darkness at a makeshift bridge that crosses a stream. We have to hike the rest of the way, pack and all. No worries, I figure. I'm up for an adventure. Along the dirt road, we meet a bevvy of barking dogs, whose owner steers us in the right direction. In the fading light of Glyn's cell phone, I fell. Bleeding, sweating, unsure the place really existed, we came upon a creature in the woods. Nice. The chupacabra. Or maybe a bear, I thought. Yeah, a tropical bear. Turned out to be a pony.
We did finally make it to the place. I got introduced by the Englishman as the girl he just met on the ferry. Nice. And I paid more than I had hoped for any room, much less his buddy's place.
Oh, well. Whatever. So we dined with a South African couple, the German couple owners and her father. The South Africans offered food and drink as did the owners to both of us. I too pitched in with beers and orderd my own meal. As for Glyn. Nada. So. He bought nothing, paid half for the taxi up to the place in the middle of nowhere, arranged nothing and said nothing about it.
Hell, he even used my guidebook to indicate to the taxi driver where we were headed. I woke up to men sweeping the dirt around my bungalow. Weird. And someone cranking the engine of some vehicle. See, my bungalow, unlike the free one Glyn had, was next to the main house where all activities take place. I wasn't even beachfront! The place has no internet access. And to get to where I wanted to stay would cost 5 times by boat from the Treehouse than would heading back to the pier, where I was just last night, and then shooting over to my desired spot. So after two cups of coffee, both of which I paid for, I paid my bill. And I left. The female owner looked at me shocked. "But you haven't even been to the beach yet." Hmph. I wanted to ask, "How much should I fork out for that?"
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Certain things
Early in the morning begin the roosters. Tick, tock, and they don't stop. It's like they're in competition, all of them, throughout the village. 
One pillow to one ear, another to the other, and still you hear every single one of them.
We rode two hours more down the river through rapids on our bamboo raft. Bun fished with a throw net a couple of times and snagged three fish.
The only girl, Bun often stuck me in the middle of the raft oarless, thinking me helpless, or weak, I guess. I did my fair share of rowing but through the rapids, it was men only steering us through the rocks. At one set of rapids, we lost Carlston. JP said he turned around to nod at Carlston, "Phew, we made it!" only there was no Carlston. A quick dunk for him, I wasn't too keen on getting bumped myself. Having seen our elephant's dung drop into that very same water the day before, I can only imagine...
The last and final tribe we visited was from China. They wear layers of clothes in such heat and square hats with coins of metal attached. At lunch, they did their best to hawk their wares. I was happy I'd bought the first day. Looking back, it was the most impressive of options.
With this trek, the three of us decided that certain things needed mention. So here I go. The extras, water, beer, tips to you elephant guide should be explained somewhere in the tour information. I imagine larger groups end up the bread and butter of these hill tribes, but for us just three, it was at times uncomfortable feeling forced to purchase. Likewise, I enjoy hearing about the culture who is affording me lodging and food. And our guide did little to share with us their culture. What a shame. The trip cost 1700 baht a piece, which is about $50 for three days. At the same time, factoring in all the added extras and the fact that they were never mentioned, a customer can feel a bit less than satisfied.
At the same time, I have to remember. Before taking off on the trek, I booked a flight from Bangkok to Surat Thani in the south for just over 1800 baht. The flight is only an hour and ten minutes of my time, opposed to a few days of hiking, an elephant ride, bamboo rafting and encountering a different way of life.
One pillow to one ear, another to the other, and still you hear every single one of them.We rode two hours more down the river through rapids on our bamboo raft. Bun fished with a throw net a couple of times and snagged three fish.
The only girl, Bun often stuck me in the middle of the raft oarless, thinking me helpless, or weak, I guess. I did my fair share of rowing but through the rapids, it was men only steering us through the rocks. At one set of rapids, we lost Carlston. JP said he turned around to nod at Carlston, "Phew, we made it!" only there was no Carlston. A quick dunk for him, I wasn't too keen on getting bumped myself. Having seen our elephant's dung drop into that very same water the day before, I can only imagine...
The last and final tribe we visited was from China. They wear layers of clothes in such heat and square hats with coins of metal attached. At lunch, they did their best to hawk their wares. I was happy I'd bought the first day. Looking back, it was the most impressive of options.
With this trek, the three of us decided that certain things needed mention. So here I go. The extras, water, beer, tips to you elephant guide should be explained somewhere in the tour information. I imagine larger groups end up the bread and butter of these hill tribes, but for us just three, it was at times uncomfortable feeling forced to purchase. Likewise, I enjoy hearing about the culture who is affording me lodging and food. And our guide did little to share with us their culture. What a shame. The trip cost 1700 baht a piece, which is about $50 for three days. At the same time, factoring in all the added extras and the fact that they were never mentioned, a customer can feel a bit less than satisfied.
At the same time, I have to remember. Before taking off on the trek, I booked a flight from Bangkok to Surat Thani in the south for just over 1800 baht. The flight is only an hour and ten minutes of my time, opposed to a few days of hiking, an elephant ride, bamboo rafting and encountering a different way of life.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Elephants and bamboo
Day two of our trek was mostly downhill, which destroys my knees. Once the landscape
evened out, we found ourselves traversing what in a few months will be tall with rice. Terraces cut into the land, rice means sustenance for the villagers. They don't sell it but live off it, enough from the field usually to feed all the families. Along the way, Bun and I picked young ferns. It's a local veggie eaten there usually with sticky rice.
We made it to Bun's home village in time for lunch. His village is big, lots of families, lots of chickens, dogs, cats, pigs, water buffalo. They have a school here, too. And all the animals roam the village, the river, under houses.
Carlston got trapped at one point on the road in front of a group of water buffalo, pinned by a fence. A guy on a moto came honking by and got them moving lucky for him.
Our lunch was a noodle soup, breakfast eggs and toast. After eating came the showcase of local goods. Much less variety than our first stop and nothing different. I fear, however, that a purchase is required of us. The attitude is less of sharing culture or discussing the crafts but of giving up money.
When something is expected it's much harder for me to comply. It's difficult at times, traveling, but is perhaps the least price we could pay. Supporting those with close to nothing. Sometimes, though, you feel like roadkill on the side of the highway soon to be discovered wounded or dead, lying in wait for that first bite to be ripped from your carcass.
We rode elephants in the afternoon through the forest and across the river. What a creature! Perched on her back, we rocked side to side as she maneuvered the landscape. We were 3 on one elephant, Carlston, the guide and I; JP and his guide on the other. His guide had an implement, a wooden handle with a large metal hook.
JP said his guide hooked his elephant in the eye when she deviated from course. She would screech, too, a sound I've never heard from an elephant. I thought he was pulling on her ear, which seems far better than eye. Their skin is so thick. Meanwhile, every chance she got, our elephant took a snack. She uprooted saplings and tore down bunches of bamboo. From behind, elephants move like large, shapely women. Slow and steady and rhythmic.
After the elephant ride, we floated down the Mae Tang river on a bamboo raft. Bamboo poles our oars, our raft was 11 poles of bamboo wide.
Remarkably, it didn't sink with the four of us on it and all of our backpacks!
A bit like Apocalypse Now, we arrived at the next village, the Langhu tribe at dusk. We ate dinner, among it snake soup, and I tried the local rice whiskey. Not bad, not bad. Sure beats moonshine! The stars were out last night and beautiful, so we built a fire and stargazed. Later, I sat in the owners' quarters and sang songs. Hotel California, The Winds of Change. Nothing like a little Scorpions to bring people together. The owner played guitar. He and his wife have been married since 19 and 17, respectively, are 37 and 35 now and had one daughter a year after marriage. What a fun diversion from my daily life. Let's be honest. When was the last time I sang anything by the Scorpions?
evened out, we found ourselves traversing what in a few months will be tall with rice. Terraces cut into the land, rice means sustenance for the villagers. They don't sell it but live off it, enough from the field usually to feed all the families. Along the way, Bun and I picked young ferns. It's a local veggie eaten there usually with sticky rice.We made it to Bun's home village in time for lunch. His village is big, lots of families, lots of chickens, dogs, cats, pigs, water buffalo. They have a school here, too. And all the animals roam the village, the river, under houses.
Carlston got trapped at one point on the road in front of a group of water buffalo, pinned by a fence. A guy on a moto came honking by and got them moving lucky for him. Our lunch was a noodle soup, breakfast eggs and toast. After eating came the showcase of local goods. Much less variety than our first stop and nothing different. I fear, however, that a purchase is required of us. The attitude is less of sharing culture or discussing the crafts but of giving up money.
When something is expected it's much harder for me to comply. It's difficult at times, traveling, but is perhaps the least price we could pay. Supporting those with close to nothing. Sometimes, though, you feel like roadkill on the side of the highway soon to be discovered wounded or dead, lying in wait for that first bite to be ripped from your carcass.We rode elephants in the afternoon through the forest and across the river. What a creature! Perched on her back, we rocked side to side as she maneuvered the landscape. We were 3 on one elephant, Carlston, the guide and I; JP and his guide on the other. His guide had an implement, a wooden handle with a large metal hook.
JP said his guide hooked his elephant in the eye when she deviated from course. She would screech, too, a sound I've never heard from an elephant. I thought he was pulling on her ear, which seems far better than eye. Their skin is so thick. Meanwhile, every chance she got, our elephant took a snack. She uprooted saplings and tore down bunches of bamboo. From behind, elephants move like large, shapely women. Slow and steady and rhythmic.After the elephant ride, we floated down the Mae Tang river on a bamboo raft. Bamboo poles our oars, our raft was 11 poles of bamboo wide.
Remarkably, it didn't sink with the four of us on it and all of our backpacks! A bit like Apocalypse Now, we arrived at the next village, the Langhu tribe at dusk. We ate dinner, among it snake soup, and I tried the local rice whiskey. Not bad, not bad. Sure beats moonshine! The stars were out last night and beautiful, so we built a fire and stargazed. Later, I sat in the owners' quarters and sang songs. Hotel California, The Winds of Change. Nothing like a little Scorpions to bring people together. The owner played guitar. He and his wife have been married since 19 and 17, respectively, are 37 and 35 now and had one daughter a year after marriage. What a fun diversion from my daily life. Let's be honest. When was the last time I sang anything by the Scorpions?
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
To the trees
So I've booked a three day trek into the mountains in Northern Thailand. Bun (boon) is our guide. He's 33 and recently married. We are three foreigners, faranga as the Thais call us, Carlston from Germany, JP from Ireland, and me.
Our first stop on the rode was at a local market.
Talk about beautiful vegetables. And quite an assortment of meat, pigs' heads feet, cow liver, you name it. One woman had a big plastic bag of frogs and was hammering them to death with a mallet. Frog legs, anyone?
The second stop of the day, we rode about an hour outside of Chiang Mai to a huge natural water fall. The water falling about 40 feet or so on your shoulders was intense. Quite a massage. At the parking lot, a man sold ice cream. I had sticky rice flavor; it was pink!
We hiked into the mountains for several
hours and stopped at a local village. Water buffalo are the main source of income. They also farm the land and weave. The countryside has electricity from solar panels donated by the government. In the rainy season, no sun, no electricity. We slept on mats under mosquito nets in bamboo huts. And the shower was a spigot and bucket of water. 
The same water you use to brush your teeth, wash your body, sink your waste, primitive for me indeed. There is a squat toilet and sewage trvels down to the river, if you're so lucky to live on one. Otherwise, it forms a puddle somewhere in the village.
I bought a local bag and bracelet from one of the tribeswomen. The Thai highlands are made up of several villages of people from across Asia. This tribe, Kara, are said to be from Tibet.
Our first stop on the rode was at a local market.
Talk about beautiful vegetables. And quite an assortment of meat, pigs' heads feet, cow liver, you name it. One woman had a big plastic bag of frogs and was hammering them to death with a mallet. Frog legs, anyone? The second stop of the day, we rode about an hour outside of Chiang Mai to a huge natural water fall. The water falling about 40 feet or so on your shoulders was intense. Quite a massage. At the parking lot, a man sold ice cream. I had sticky rice flavor; it was pink!
We hiked into the mountains for several
hours and stopped at a local village. Water buffalo are the main source of income. They also farm the land and weave. The countryside has electricity from solar panels donated by the government. In the rainy season, no sun, no electricity. We slept on mats under mosquito nets in bamboo huts. And the shower was a spigot and bucket of water. 
The same water you use to brush your teeth, wash your body, sink your waste, primitive for me indeed. There is a squat toilet and sewage trvels down to the river, if you're so lucky to live on one. Otherwise, it forms a puddle somewhere in the village.I bought a local bag and bracelet from one of the tribeswomen. The Thai highlands are made up of several villages of people from across Asia. This tribe, Kara, are said to be from Tibet.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Every day is monk day
Today, I spent the majority of the afternoon chatting with a Buddhist monk. One of the major temples has created a program in Chiang Mai called "Monk Chats." So many tourists view temples but never have the chance to speak to a monk. This program is designed to answer questions on both sides, whether from the monk about the visitor's culture or vice versa. The monk I spoke with, whom I know affectionately refer to as "my monk," is named Sunthorn (soonthorn) and is from Cambodia. His parents encouraged him to become a monk for the opportunities it provides to study. All things considered, monks are revered, if not cherished in society so one could hardly find a better opportunity. 
From what he said, monks can enter to study religion or to practice it. Sunthorn is interested in studying and this was his best opportunity.
As a monk you live for free at a wat as long as you follow Buddhist guidelines and rules. You live in a wat among other monks, no dancing, drinking alcohol, no ladies. Several hours of your day are spent chanting, and often with others in their support. Your daily life is an exploration of faith of all kinds. Sunthorn lives in the most elaborate wat I visited in Chiang Mai.
Sunthorn started the conversation about nuns in the States. I still have many questions, but think women are only allowed to speak to monks after having been addressed by one. We had a few moments of translation gridlock and resorted to his handy dictionary, which turned into a bit of a dance. Women are also prohibited from touching monks or passing them things directly, so trading the dictionary back and forth proved tricky. I could thumb the dictionary, then turn it his direction and point to the word, then remove myself. At that point, he would zone in on the word and our worlds reconvened. His name means cook or smooth-talker, while mine is supposed to mean grace. I know. How often does any of us live up to a name? He laughed when I told him grace, thinking I'd said grease, a word that I have definitely managed to live up to lately. We also discussed family, marriage, even gay marriage.
I learned also that if you wish to leave the life, you are able. There is no problem with moving on, getting married, having children, unlike other religions. Traveling, you do your best to respect the culture around you.
And I have crossed paths with monks, usually stepping aside to let them pass first, and now I understand a bit more about them. I felt honored talking to a monk and was happy at the chance to speak to one.
I lunched at a wonderful spot called AUM Vegetarian. The house classic, and its rendition of the Chiang Mai speciality, I had kau soi. Crispy and soft egg noodles with mushrooms, cabbage, tofu, potatoes and red onion in a spicy coconut milk broth, talk about heaven. Who needs meat when you've got something this good?
All over Chiang Mai, someone has put up these stickers.
And I mean everywhere. After googling it, looks like he/she is in fact everywhere. From the US to China, global. What a shame. With all that effort, imagine what one could do were it more than just stickers...
From what he said, monks can enter to study religion or to practice it. Sunthorn is interested in studying and this was his best opportunity. As a monk you live for free at a wat as long as you follow Buddhist guidelines and rules. You live in a wat among other monks, no dancing, drinking alcohol, no ladies. Several hours of your day are spent chanting, and often with others in their support. Your daily life is an exploration of faith of all kinds. Sunthorn lives in the most elaborate wat I visited in Chiang Mai.
Sunthorn started the conversation about nuns in the States. I still have many questions, but think women are only allowed to speak to monks after having been addressed by one. We had a few moments of translation gridlock and resorted to his handy dictionary, which turned into a bit of a dance. Women are also prohibited from touching monks or passing them things directly, so trading the dictionary back and forth proved tricky. I could thumb the dictionary, then turn it his direction and point to the word, then remove myself. At that point, he would zone in on the word and our worlds reconvened. His name means cook or smooth-talker, while mine is supposed to mean grace. I know. How often does any of us live up to a name? He laughed when I told him grace, thinking I'd said grease, a word that I have definitely managed to live up to lately. We also discussed family, marriage, even gay marriage.
I learned also that if you wish to leave the life, you are able. There is no problem with moving on, getting married, having children, unlike other religions. Traveling, you do your best to respect the culture around you.
And I have crossed paths with monks, usually stepping aside to let them pass first, and now I understand a bit more about them. I felt honored talking to a monk and was happy at the chance to speak to one.I lunched at a wonderful spot called AUM Vegetarian. The house classic, and its rendition of the Chiang Mai speciality, I had kau soi. Crispy and soft egg noodles with mushrooms, cabbage, tofu, potatoes and red onion in a spicy coconut milk broth, talk about heaven. Who needs meat when you've got something this good?
All over Chiang Mai, someone has put up these stickers.
And I mean everywhere. After googling it, looks like he/she is in fact everywhere. From the US to China, global. What a shame. With all that effort, imagine what one could do were it more than just stickers...
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Purple nuts!
On the road again, I checked out of the Lamphu Tree Hotel and am headed to Chiang Mai, northern Thailand. I opted for the bus to see a bit of the landscape and am the only non-Thai on the bus. Actually, I was the only foreigner in the bus terminal. Flying from place to place is seen as pretty cheap here for foreigners, in particular.
So, on the VIP busses here, you have a hostess.
A female bus attendant offers you snacks and such throughout the ride and selects the entertainment. At the start of the trip, we each got a box with rice, spicy chicken and a fried egg. On our third stop, I hopped out and picked up peanuts, one cup for 10 Bhat (just under 30 cents). They are soft on the inside like boiled peanuts, tasty and purple!
A few hours from Chiang Mai, I think I've realized the real reason people prefer other means than the bus. There ain't much of a view. Some huge gorgeous lily pads spotting puddles just outside of Bangkok, palm trees in the distant green. And that's about it. And the on-bus entertainment, well. It's a cross between Yu-gi-oh! and Thai School Musical. Wherever I'm headed next, I'm hoping to fly.
So, on the VIP busses here, you have a hostess.
A female bus attendant offers you snacks and such throughout the ride and selects the entertainment. At the start of the trip, we each got a box with rice, spicy chicken and a fried egg. On our third stop, I hopped out and picked up peanuts, one cup for 10 Bhat (just under 30 cents). They are soft on the inside like boiled peanuts, tasty and purple!A few hours from Chiang Mai, I think I've realized the real reason people prefer other means than the bus. There ain't much of a view. Some huge gorgeous lily pads spotting puddles just outside of Bangkok, palm trees in the distant green. And that's about it. And the on-bus entertainment, well. It's a cross between Yu-gi-oh! and Thai School Musical. Wherever I'm headed next, I'm hoping to fly.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Adjustments
Public newspapers are posted on easels on certain streets of the city. 
This morning a cop and an older woman sat across from each other perusing the morning headlines. Some things here are reminscent of South America for me. The heat, sure. The air quality, or lack thereof, as well. But also grills everywhere with exotic meats, all kinds of fun sausages. And fruits. There is this one item, though. I'm not sure what it is. Except for unusual. It looks like a tamale in color but is slimy, only when cut open at one end, it opens like a flower. 
Or maybe a squid. I'll have to get a picture. And crossing the streets every so often, you'll find a random woman with her sewing machine set up on the sidewalk mending someone's trousers. I saw my first bit of graffitti today, too.
When I first got here, I thought I needed certain things. Air conditioning (??), a double bed (??)...I kept wondering, "Who is this girl?" Looking back, I think I just wanted to relax. The last two weeks in the States, I drove from NYC to Lynchburg, VA and back twice, the second time to attend a funeral. I moved out of my apartment into a storage locker prior to leaving for the funeral, carrying with me several bags of things: funeral appropriate attire and shoes, work clothes, a laptop, every day wear, stuff to sleep in as well as the last odds and ends from the apartment (e.g. hair dryer). Then wrapping my head around what was necessary for months of traveling in a tropical climate meanwhile weathering NYC's latest snowstorm. And staying at 3 friends' apartments. I think it may have been stressful.
And I don't think I realized it until I got to Bangkok and slept for 10+ hours each night. How thankful am I to have found this hotel. There's no place like home, but this is pretty close. Here's the complimentary breakfast they offer. And yes, the watermelon is cut into little hearts! I didn't bring a clock or a watch with me but have managed to wake just before sunrise every day. A lovely breakfast seems to start the day off right.
This morning a cop and an older woman sat across from each other perusing the morning headlines. Some things here are reminscent of South America for me. The heat, sure. The air quality, or lack thereof, as well. But also grills everywhere with exotic meats, all kinds of fun sausages. And fruits. There is this one item, though. I'm not sure what it is. Except for unusual. It looks like a tamale in color but is slimy, only when cut open at one end, it opens like a flower. 
Or maybe a squid. I'll have to get a picture. And crossing the streets every so often, you'll find a random woman with her sewing machine set up on the sidewalk mending someone's trousers. I saw my first bit of graffitti today, too.When I first got here, I thought I needed certain things. Air conditioning (??), a double bed (??)...I kept wondering, "Who is this girl?" Looking back, I think I just wanted to relax. The last two weeks in the States, I drove from NYC to Lynchburg, VA and back twice, the second time to attend a funeral. I moved out of my apartment into a storage locker prior to leaving for the funeral, carrying with me several bags of things: funeral appropriate attire and shoes, work clothes, a laptop, every day wear, stuff to sleep in as well as the last odds and ends from the apartment (e.g. hair dryer). Then wrapping my head around what was necessary for months of traveling in a tropical climate meanwhile weathering NYC's latest snowstorm. And staying at 3 friends' apartments. I think it may have been stressful.
And I don't think I realized it until I got to Bangkok and slept for 10+ hours each night. How thankful am I to have found this hotel. There's no place like home, but this is pretty close. Here's the complimentary breakfast they offer. And yes, the watermelon is cut into little hearts! I didn't bring a clock or a watch with me but have managed to wake just before sunrise every day. A lovely breakfast seems to start the day off right.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Thailand is Grand
I made it to the Grand Palace, thankfully just before the tour bus crowds. And grand it certainly is. 
The monarchy's actual residence, as well as the home of a number of governmental buildings and the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, the grounds are sprawling and impeccable. A sea of gold, rubies, emeralds. Buildings created of mosaics decorated in animals, gargoyles and elephants, it's exquisite.
I spent the morning at Grand Palace,
then to Wat Phro to see the reclining Buddha. The largest Buddha in Thailand, this Buddha is amazing. Seemingly not as accessible a place for personal worship for all the tourists and lack of space, the Buddha takes up almost the entire temple. His feet, for example, are atop each other and reach three of my body lengths. 
The Wat's grounds are made up of several smaller temples within the site, also beautiful.
For lunch I visited recommended Roti Mataba and had a traditional Thai gravy with chicken and roti, an Indian bread. I went to pay for lunch and apparently tried to pay with quarters. The US mint in overdrive these the last few years, who even knows what the tails side of a quarter looks like anymore?
The ticket for the Grand Palace also allows entrance into Dusit Palace. Again glorious, the grounds and buildings are stunning. Vimanmek Mansion was erected as a summer home and is the largest building in the world made of teak. The Arts of the Kigdom Exhibition was the most remarkable for me personally. I love art and the building itself is a piece of art. Inside the domes are painted in Italian Renaissance style but of Thai culture. And the artwork held within is equally impressive.
I enjoyed the final grouping of the exhibit which showcases the Queen's interest in the commitment to Thai embroidery. The intricacy and technique is breathtaking.
A couple of things to note: to enter any temple, you must remove shoes and cannot point your feet toward the Buddha. The head being symbolic of all things revered, and the feet lowly and dirty, it is general custom to avoid stepping over people with your feet or using them to point.
You cannot enter any temple or site in a tanktop, short skirt, or open-toed shoes. You must cover your shoulders. And in certain spots, you can only wear skirts, no pants. It's up to you to know the requirements, although many places offer a cover up, albeit of the institution's design and small fee.
The monarchy's actual residence, as well as the home of a number of governmental buildings and the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, the grounds are sprawling and impeccable. A sea of gold, rubies, emeralds. Buildings created of mosaics decorated in animals, gargoyles and elephants, it's exquisite. I spent the morning at Grand Palace,
then to Wat Phro to see the reclining Buddha. The largest Buddha in Thailand, this Buddha is amazing. Seemingly not as accessible a place for personal worship for all the tourists and lack of space, the Buddha takes up almost the entire temple. His feet, for example, are atop each other and reach three of my body lengths. 
The Wat's grounds are made up of several smaller temples within the site, also beautiful. For lunch I visited recommended Roti Mataba and had a traditional Thai gravy with chicken and roti, an Indian bread. I went to pay for lunch and apparently tried to pay with quarters. The US mint in overdrive these the last few years, who even knows what the tails side of a quarter looks like anymore?
The ticket for the Grand Palace also allows entrance into Dusit Palace. Again glorious, the grounds and buildings are stunning. Vimanmek Mansion was erected as a summer home and is the largest building in the world made of teak. The Arts of the Kigdom Exhibition was the most remarkable for me personally. I love art and the building itself is a piece of art. Inside the domes are painted in Italian Renaissance style but of Thai culture. And the artwork held within is equally impressive.
I enjoyed the final grouping of the exhibit which showcases the Queen's interest in the commitment to Thai embroidery. The intricacy and technique is breathtaking.A couple of things to note: to enter any temple, you must remove shoes and cannot point your feet toward the Buddha. The head being symbolic of all things revered, and the feet lowly and dirty, it is general custom to avoid stepping over people with your feet or using them to point.
You cannot enter any temple or site in a tanktop, short skirt, or open-toed shoes. You must cover your shoulders. And in certain spots, you can only wear skirts, no pants. It's up to you to know the requirements, although many places offer a cover up, albeit of the institution's design and small fee.
The birdfeeder
I awoke before sunrise. Jet lag reared its head last night, well, last afternoon. 
But I slept until morning, at least, so hopefully I'll be able to adjust to the time difference within a day or two.
I have slated today as a day of sightseeing.
I started out walking to visit Democracy Monument first thing with morning rush hour. It was erected in honor of Siam's first constitution in 1932 that ended the absolute monarchy. The location is strategic as well, between Grand Palace and Dusit Palace.
On my way to Grand Palace, a woman pushed corn kernels on me and said, "Have a wonderful day!" I handed the bags back and walked away saying, "No, thank you." She persisted and we played this game for a few hands. No matter how many times I told her no, she upped the ante and added a bag. They were in total four. Then she insisted I dump the bags to feed the pigeons that had encircled me and refused my returning the bags. I gave them back, nonetheless, and still she continued to push them on me. I kept walking and finally dumped the bags, at which point she demanded money. She said she had three kids and rubbed her fingers together, the international sign for money. She grabbed at my arms and near my bag, though in vain. I was not about to open my bag. The encounter got my heart pumping not only out of the fear but also out of empathy. Yes, I was uncomfortable. My first day in an unfamiliar city. But I was uncomfortable for other reasons, too. How does one help? And all of us. Across the globe.
But I slept until morning, at least, so hopefully I'll be able to adjust to the time difference within a day or two.I have slated today as a day of sightseeing.
I started out walking to visit Democracy Monument first thing with morning rush hour. It was erected in honor of Siam's first constitution in 1932 that ended the absolute monarchy. The location is strategic as well, between Grand Palace and Dusit Palace.On my way to Grand Palace, a woman pushed corn kernels on me and said, "Have a wonderful day!" I handed the bags back and walked away saying, "No, thank you." She persisted and we played this game for a few hands. No matter how many times I told her no, she upped the ante and added a bag. They were in total four. Then she insisted I dump the bags to feed the pigeons that had encircled me and refused my returning the bags. I gave them back, nonetheless, and still she continued to push them on me. I kept walking and finally dumped the bags, at which point she demanded money. She said she had three kids and rubbed her fingers together, the international sign for money. She grabbed at my arms and near my bag, though in vain. I was not about to open my bag. The encounter got my heart pumping not only out of the fear but also out of empathy. Yes, I was uncomfortable. My first day in an unfamiliar city. But I was uncomfortable for other reasons, too. How does one help? And all of us. Across the globe.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Familiarization
After settling in to my room (aka hitting the minibar), I toured the neighborhood a bit. 
People stare at me. On the corner, hardly out of my hotel, a man tried to offer me help. While Thailand is also known to be the city of smiles and friendly people, I'm more than willing to ask for help as I need it. New York is full of tourists and you have to assist people with directions and the like a fair amount. But they typically have maps in hand or you've seen them make the block once already. Here I think I may be seen an as easy target. No, thank you with the traditional hands in prayer formation at your chest greeting seems to get the message across and with respect.
I walked down to the river and along the boardwalk. There is a huge fortress near my hotel and a funky bridge as well, great natural landmarks for getting your bearings. Also in the neighborhood is backpacker central, Khao San Road, where you can find all sorts of wares at a bargain, including accomodation. Sure, I'm traveling with a backpack. But I'm not so sure I'm a backpacker. Hmm. Let's look into this one.
Gondolas with motors scoot along the river as do the commuter boats, like Venice's vapporetti.
I have heard that the river is the fastest way to travel, avoiding most of Bangkok's traffic. Along with the subway and SkyTrain, you can manage to elude cars altogether with a bit of planning.
The air quality isn't the greatest either. Not that I've noticed it so much, but half the people driving motorcycles wear masks as does anyone in construction. The climate is a lot like the equatorial cities in South America. And there are tons of scooters, also like S.A. I have almost been taken out by a few motos and tuktuks, too, however; here you drive on the left side of the road and your driver is in the front right seat. The stickshift is in your left hand. Look before you leap indeed.
People stare at me. On the corner, hardly out of my hotel, a man tried to offer me help. While Thailand is also known to be the city of smiles and friendly people, I'm more than willing to ask for help as I need it. New York is full of tourists and you have to assist people with directions and the like a fair amount. But they typically have maps in hand or you've seen them make the block once already. Here I think I may be seen an as easy target. No, thank you with the traditional hands in prayer formation at your chest greeting seems to get the message across and with respect.I walked down to the river and along the boardwalk. There is a huge fortress near my hotel and a funky bridge as well, great natural landmarks for getting your bearings. Also in the neighborhood is backpacker central, Khao San Road, where you can find all sorts of wares at a bargain, including accomodation. Sure, I'm traveling with a backpack. But I'm not so sure I'm a backpacker. Hmm. Let's look into this one.
Gondolas with motors scoot along the river as do the commuter boats, like Venice's vapporetti.
I have heard that the river is the fastest way to travel, avoiding most of Bangkok's traffic. Along with the subway and SkyTrain, you can manage to elude cars altogether with a bit of planning.The air quality isn't the greatest either. Not that I've noticed it so much, but half the people driving motorcycles wear masks as does anyone in construction. The climate is a lot like the equatorial cities in South America. And there are tons of scooters, also like S.A. I have almost been taken out by a few motos and tuktuks, too, however; here you drive on the left side of the road and your driver is in the front right seat. The stickshift is in your left hand. Look before you leap indeed.
BKK
Bangkok! Made it! I hopped in a public taxi--meter on--and my total to the hotel was 369 Baht, about $10, including 2 tolls. The driver was so friendly, but I'm already up against a language barrier.
The city seems quite usual, the pace and beat of a city. The highway itself, the surrounding buildings, and, of course, palm trees remind me of Miami.
From the cab, I saw a granddad, the owner of a watch repair shop, playing with his granddaughter, just barely walking in a bright yellow dress with bloomers. It's life. And we're all living it.
At first impression, the
Lamphu Tree Hotel is a gem. On a few websites it is rated in the top 10 of 400+ Bangkok Hotels, and yet the prices are reasonable. There is a pool on the ground floor (NICE), a top floor terrace with panoramic view of the city and breakfast included. After a whirlwind final two weeks in New York, I am looking forward to relaxing for a little bit before hitting the travel trail.
In the past, they have called
Bangkok the Venice of the East, and while many of the canals have been filled in, I am in a room with a balcony overlooking one. Bangkok can be pricey, and from what I have read, pricier than other places in Thailand, so seeing that Lamphu Tree Hotel is not only affordable but also that my room has a balcony, air conditioner and mini-bar, who's leaving Bangkok?!? Let it be known: I fell in love in Venice, too, no, not with a man. With the city. So we shall see.
The city seems quite usual, the pace and beat of a city. The highway itself, the surrounding buildings, and, of course, palm trees remind me of Miami.
From the cab, I saw a granddad, the owner of a watch repair shop, playing with his granddaughter, just barely walking in a bright yellow dress with bloomers. It's life. And we're all living it. At first impression, the
Lamphu Tree Hotel is a gem. On a few websites it is rated in the top 10 of 400+ Bangkok Hotels, and yet the prices are reasonable. There is a pool on the ground floor (NICE), a top floor terrace with panoramic view of the city and breakfast included. After a whirlwind final two weeks in New York, I am looking forward to relaxing for a little bit before hitting the travel trail.In the past, they have called
Bangkok the Venice of the East, and while many of the canals have been filled in, I am in a room with a balcony overlooking one. Bangkok can be pricey, and from what I have read, pricier than other places in Thailand, so seeing that Lamphu Tree Hotel is not only affordable but also that my room has a balcony, air conditioner and mini-bar, who's leaving Bangkok?!? Let it be known: I fell in love in Venice, too, no, not with a man. With the city. So we shall see.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Doha, Qatar
Doha has a bay covered with sparkly buildings--not huge skyscrapers but lovely building shimmering even at night. There was a flame burning bright in the distance. I'm guessing an oil refinery. I have only an hour layover, hence no chance to see more of the city.
So it's just shy of 7 pm here in Doha and yet the flight crew fed us breakfast on the plane about an hour before arrival. We had dinner upon boarding, 12:30 am New York time and 8 hours later breakfast. Only it's actually somehow 20 hours later and dinner time. But I just had eggs!
At the transfers section of the airport, the security official asked me where I had arrived from...I stuttered. "Milan?" he asked. I took it as a compliment. Silence, brain malfunctioning, I apologized in English and at the same moment we both uttered New York.
In Doha's airport there are signs for the following (in English and Arabic): Smoking Room, Toilets, Quiet Room and Family Lounge. Upon approaching these areas, however, there is also a Prayer Room. Full of shoes and then farther in, men lined up following the daily regiment of duty to their faith. I wonder, was anyone on the plane praying? I did. But religion for me isn't necessarily directional or active. I remember Abubakar, the dishwasher at the Flying Biscuit back in the day. He used to leave several times a day with a cardboard box he'd broken down to pray. I'm curious...what are the rules? It's the first time I've ever seen a prayer room in an airport.
A young man just passed by head-to-toe in white, a black band around his forehead holding his headscarf in place. Not only traditional, I imagine, but talk about some comfortable travel wear.
Here are the remaining departure cities for the next few hours: Bahrain, Dubai, Kuwait, Muscat, Bangkok, Chennai, Abu Dhabi, Hyderabad, Cochin.
So it's just shy of 7 pm here in Doha and yet the flight crew fed us breakfast on the plane about an hour before arrival. We had dinner upon boarding, 12:30 am New York time and 8 hours later breakfast. Only it's actually somehow 20 hours later and dinner time. But I just had eggs!
At the transfers section of the airport, the security official asked me where I had arrived from...I stuttered. "Milan?" he asked. I took it as a compliment. Silence, brain malfunctioning, I apologized in English and at the same moment we both uttered New York.
In Doha's airport there are signs for the following (in English and Arabic): Smoking Room, Toilets, Quiet Room and Family Lounge. Upon approaching these areas, however, there is also a Prayer Room. Full of shoes and then farther in, men lined up following the daily regiment of duty to their faith. I wonder, was anyone on the plane praying? I did. But religion for me isn't necessarily directional or active. I remember Abubakar, the dishwasher at the Flying Biscuit back in the day. He used to leave several times a day with a cardboard box he'd broken down to pray. I'm curious...what are the rules? It's the first time I've ever seen a prayer room in an airport.
A young man just passed by head-to-toe in white, a black band around his forehead holding his headscarf in place. Not only traditional, I imagine, but talk about some comfortable travel wear.
Here are the remaining departure cities for the next few hours: Bahrain, Dubai, Kuwait, Muscat, Bangkok, Chennai, Abu Dhabi, Hyderabad, Cochin.
Welcome back...
So, I can't tell if the guy in the window seat of my aisle is just kooky or if I make him nervous. He keeps getting up to find another seat. Blond(ish) western woman...ha! 
I've already got them running for the back of the plane to get away from me.
The flight attendant just brought him back to his seat, and he begrudgingly struck up a conversation with me. Ok, maybe it's not me. Or what I look like. He's an engineer. From Bangladesh. His mother is dying and he and his sister, who lives in Atlanta, were considering moving her to Singapore. It is a small, small world. He's shorter than I and sure squirrely. He reminds me of Digger from the cartoon Shirt Tales, not sure anyone will remember that one.
He moved to another seat once and for all. No complaints. I'll stretch out in my 3 seats for sure. The flight attendant touched my on my shoulder and revealed that she'd moved him on my behalf. She just couldn't do that to me. Her name is Hayet, which means life.
She's from Austria, but originally Algeria. She just came back to offer me a drink. Pre-flight. Apparently, they have quite a selection. Wow, do I look like a drinker? Don't answer that. She admitted that she was on the tired side herself. She'd spent the night clubbing in the city. She's wearing pearl earrings, her hair pulled back in a bun. Professional. Welcoming.
The emblem of Qatar Airways is the oryx, similar to an antelope, and is also the name of the in-flight magazine. The airline itself reaches to quite a number of international destinations. Launched in 1997, it will begin flying its longest flight on March 30th to Houston, "linking the energy capitals of the world--Doha and
Houston," according to the CEO Akbar Al Baker.
I have never thought about Houston being one of the energy capitals of the world. Hmm.
The magazine is ingenius. Written in two languages, English and Arabic, the magazine starts off in English, as we read English. Front to back. Left to right. The back of it is written in reverse order and in Arabic, as it is read. The middle of the magazine is a mirror, on the left the last page in English, on the right the very same final page in Arabic. Maybe I'm an idiot, but it just seemed brilliant to me. Capitalizing on both markets, neither impacted or distracted by multiple translation.
So, each time the captain comes on the PA, he pronounces Qatar Airways like Kotter Airways. Not like Vinny Barbarino, Mr. KotTERRR, per se, but evocative of the t.v. show nonetheless. I've been saying KaTAR, not Kotter. They should use the theme song while loading in passengers!
I've already got them running for the back of the plane to get away from me. The flight attendant just brought him back to his seat, and he begrudgingly struck up a conversation with me. Ok, maybe it's not me. Or what I look like. He's an engineer. From Bangladesh. His mother is dying and he and his sister, who lives in Atlanta, were considering moving her to Singapore. It is a small, small world. He's shorter than I and sure squirrely. He reminds me of Digger from the cartoon Shirt Tales, not sure anyone will remember that one.
He moved to another seat once and for all. No complaints. I'll stretch out in my 3 seats for sure. The flight attendant touched my on my shoulder and revealed that she'd moved him on my behalf. She just couldn't do that to me. Her name is Hayet, which means life.
She's from Austria, but originally Algeria. She just came back to offer me a drink. Pre-flight. Apparently, they have quite a selection. Wow, do I look like a drinker? Don't answer that. She admitted that she was on the tired side herself. She'd spent the night clubbing in the city. She's wearing pearl earrings, her hair pulled back in a bun. Professional. Welcoming.The emblem of Qatar Airways is the oryx, similar to an antelope, and is also the name of the in-flight magazine. The airline itself reaches to quite a number of international destinations. Launched in 1997, it will begin flying its longest flight on March 30th to Houston, "linking the energy capitals of the world--Doha and
Houston," according to the CEO Akbar Al Baker.
I have never thought about Houston being one of the energy capitals of the world. Hmm.The magazine is ingenius. Written in two languages, English and Arabic, the magazine starts off in English, as we read English. Front to back. Left to right. The back of it is written in reverse order and in Arabic, as it is read. The middle of the magazine is a mirror, on the left the last page in English, on the right the very same final page in Arabic. Maybe I'm an idiot, but it just seemed brilliant to me. Capitalizing on both markets, neither impacted or distracted by multiple translation.
So, each time the captain comes on the PA, he pronounces Qatar Airways like Kotter Airways. Not like Vinny Barbarino, Mr. KotTERRR, per se, but evocative of the t.v. show nonetheless. I've been saying KaTAR, not Kotter. They should use the theme song while loading in passengers!
Monday, March 9, 2009
The new
I'm at JFK. I fly to Doha, Qatar tonight, then on to Bangkok, Thailand. All 18 hours of flight and time changes, I get to Thailand Wednesday morning.
The flight crew for some airline just cruised by. One of the flight attendants is in a beige suit, the kickpleats of her skirt red. And she wears a small red hat Jackie O-style, with a white scarf tucked under the hat above the right ear that sweeeps under the face and wraps around the neck. Elegant. Classy. The scarf is almost like a veil (and I'm sure can double as that, depending on airport and country). Already, I'm excited to see new things. And I'm only in Queens!
Oh, and happy birthday, Mom!
The flight crew for some airline just cruised by. One of the flight attendants is in a beige suit, the kickpleats of her skirt red. And she wears a small red hat Jackie O-style, with a white scarf tucked under the hat above the right ear that sweeeps under the face and wraps around the neck. Elegant. Classy. The scarf is almost like a veil (and I'm sure can double as that, depending on airport and country). Already, I'm excited to see new things. And I'm only in Queens!
Oh, and happy birthday, Mom!
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Miss Millie
Today I searched through the contact list in my phone and the first letters I hit took me to contact "Nana." My grandmother, Mildred Carter Hutchison Woody, passed away Monday, February 23rd. A pistol, one could say. She was a real pistol.
She fell ill over Christmas, recovered, and then ended up with pneumonia again just a few weeks back.
She conceded to remedies for a few days, but then decided that she had had enough. She refused food and water, only taking morphine when necessary for about a week, and then died.
It's moments like today that make me nostalgic. She was stubborn. She wanted things her way. Who doesn't? She may have been difficult a time or two. Who can't? But still, she was my grandmother. She was also the last of the grandfamily for my brothers and me. Whether you accept family or deny any similarity, it's still all you got. I'll miss you, Nana. Hope you got where you wanted to go, and hope you're looking down on all of us. Smokin'.
She fell ill over Christmas, recovered, and then ended up with pneumonia again just a few weeks back.
She conceded to remedies for a few days, but then decided that she had had enough. She refused food and water, only taking morphine when necessary for about a week, and then died.It's moments like today that make me nostalgic. She was stubborn. She wanted things her way. Who doesn't? She may have been difficult a time or two. Who can't? But still, she was my grandmother. She was also the last of the grandfamily for my brothers and me. Whether you accept family or deny any similarity, it's still all you got. I'll miss you, Nana. Hope you got where you wanted to go, and hope you're looking down on all of us. Smokin'.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)