5.30.2004
CHIANG MAI
Vivienne and Lonny are here traveling with us, and we're having a blast. So nice to have some familiar faces around -- particularly theirs. After a day in Bangkok, we took the night train (14 hours) north to Chiang Mai. It's quite a bit smaller than Bangkok -- 800,000 people. Our first day here we did a day-long trek that took us through a hill tribe (aka: souvenir) village (the Hmong), then swimming under a waterfall, on an elephant trek through the jungle, and then floating down a river with dragonflies on a bamboo raft. Lonny's been loving the birdwatching.
Today we participated in a Thai cooking class, complete with shopping at the market, and stuffing ourselves with the delicious food we'd prepared. Tonight we'll go to the Sunday market, and tomorrow we'll ride motorcycles up to the mountain-top temple that's the heart of Chiang Mai (and supposedly terrific bird-watching).
I'm particularly grateful for some long-awaited girl talk.
Vivienne and Lonny are here traveling with us, and we're having a blast. So nice to have some familiar faces around -- particularly theirs. After a day in Bangkok, we took the night train (14 hours) north to Chiang Mai. It's quite a bit smaller than Bangkok -- 800,000 people. Our first day here we did a day-long trek that took us through a hill tribe (aka: souvenir) village (the Hmong), then swimming under a waterfall, on an elephant trek through the jungle, and then floating down a river with dragonflies on a bamboo raft. Lonny's been loving the birdwatching.
Today we participated in a Thai cooking class, complete with shopping at the market, and stuffing ourselves with the delicious food we'd prepared. Tonight we'll go to the Sunday market, and tomorrow we'll ride motorcycles up to the mountain-top temple that's the heart of Chiang Mai (and supposedly terrific bird-watching).
I'm particularly grateful for some long-awaited girl talk.
5.26.2004
HIGHLIGHTS FROM BANGKOK
:: Traditional Thai massage at the Buddhist temple "Wat Po"; lying under fans in a quiet yellow room
:: Zooming around the streets at night in a tuk-tuk (even though we knew we were being overcharged)
:: Seeing "Kill Bill 2" in the 7-story ultra-modern steel and glass MBK shopping center. During the previews, everyone stood for the King's anthem
:: Sitting in Padpong with Tony Marshall, a lounge singer from Aruba, watching the lady-boys strut out of the bars at 2am
:: A bicycle tour of the royal island and temples at night. We sat in front of a towering golden buddha while worshippers chanted.
:: Erik's tailor-made suit.
:: Wandering the late-night flower markets. Miles of roses, exotic varieties, and meticulously arranged religious garlands.
:: A boat ride through the floating markets of Damnoen Saduak, to the south.
:: FOOD! Lebanese street food; American breakfast on Kaosan; Traditional Thai overlooking the river; Japanese noodles at Grand Ramen; Erik eating a fried cockroach and scorpion; plenty of fruit shakes.
:: Traditional Thai massage at the Buddhist temple "Wat Po"; lying under fans in a quiet yellow room
:: Zooming around the streets at night in a tuk-tuk (even though we knew we were being overcharged)
:: Seeing "Kill Bill 2" in the 7-story ultra-modern steel and glass MBK shopping center. During the previews, everyone stood for the King's anthem
:: Sitting in Padpong with Tony Marshall, a lounge singer from Aruba, watching the lady-boys strut out of the bars at 2am
:: A bicycle tour of the royal island and temples at night. We sat in front of a towering golden buddha while worshippers chanted.
:: Erik's tailor-made suit.
:: Wandering the late-night flower markets. Miles of roses, exotic varieties, and meticulously arranged religious garlands.
:: A boat ride through the floating markets of Damnoen Saduak, to the south.
:: FOOD! Lebanese street food; American breakfast on Kaosan; Traditional Thai overlooking the river; Japanese noodles at Grand Ramen; Erik eating a fried cockroach and scorpion; plenty of fruit shakes.
ANGKOR WAT :: CAMBODIA
I am full of the haunting beauty of the ancient temples of Angkor, and heartbreak for the devastated peoples of today's Cambodia. There are at least 25 Taj-Mahal-level architectural masterpieces covering 75 square miles in Northwest Cambodia, outside of Siem Reap. They are all Buddhist or Hindu temples, or a combination of the two, built from the 9th - 15th c AD. We spent 4 days wandering labyrinthine walkways, over moats, around elaborately carved grey sandstone towers, and libraries filled with detailed bas reliefs which told the stories of daily life and the spiritual beliefs of the proud and brilliant ancient Khmer civilization.
Today, monks wander like living vibrant orange ghosts -- reminders of the once sacred intent of these halls now filled with tourists like us, sweating and snapping photos. The locals are afraid to be here at night, for the real ghosts are the war dead -- the Khmer Rouge, Vietnamese and Cambodian armies occupied (and desecrated) the temples during the war in the 70's through the 80's.
Alternatively, I'm afraid to be here during the day because of the relentlessness of the vendors -- who launch a full-out assault every time we leave a temple or approach a stand (MISTER, YOU BUY COLD DRINK FROM MEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!). Everyone asks your name, and where you're from, and then for a dollar.
The preferred currency here is the US dollar, then the Thai Baht, then the Cambodian Riel. Even children (who comprise most of the vendors) can easily calculate prices in the three currencies.
Sadly, we didn't have an exchange with a single person who was motivated by anything other than economic advancement. Given their recent history, I guess you can't blame them. A policeman even offered to sell us his badge as a souvenir, and I was conned by a monk look-alike (for one dollar).
However, the Cambodians are some of the most elegant, good-humored, and intelligent people we've met. If peace continues and their economy strengthens, I have hope that the glory evidenced in the temples will return one day to the region.
To see photos of the truly amazing temples, visit: http://www.travel-cambodia.com/angkor_photos.htm
+ + + + + + +
CAMBODIA :: A RECENT HISTORY
paraphrased (and excerpted) from "The Story of my Life" by Aki Ra, the founder of the Cambodian Land Mine Museum in Siem Reap
1886 - France colonizes Cambodia
1942 - Japan invades - France retreats
1945 - Japan retreats (after the US bombing of Hiroshima)
1946 - France returns
Viet Minh and Ho Chi Minh armies fight the French in Cambodia, Vietnam, and Laos
1954 - Under Prince Sikanouk, Cambodia declares independence. Relative peace for 10 years
1969 - US begins anti-communist raids in Cambodia and Laos, alongside the war in Vietnam
1970 - General Lonol and the Cambodian army wage a successful military coup against Prince Sihanouk, who retreats to China. From there, he broadcasts to Cambodian people to fight Lonol's army with the support of the Viet Kong and Chinese. Lonol has support from the powerful armies of Thailand, US, and S. Vietnam, and by 1973, he defeats the Viet Kong.
Meanwhile, the Khmer Rouge (mostly jungle rebels) were becoming stronger and wanted control of Cambodia. Fighting continued between the Khmer Rouge and Lonol's armies until the US, Thai and S. Vietnamese pulled out in 1975 leaving Lonol's army to fall to the Khmer Rouge.
For the next for years, the Cambodian people would suffer greatly under the leadership of communist dictator and Khmer Rouge leader, Pol Pot. His idea was to create an agrarian system that had everyone working in the fields in a way that took them back in time 400 years. By way of implementing this system, the Khmer Rouge took a census of every citizen's job, family and possessions in order to re-organize society. Even the calendar year was set back to zero.
Educated people were considered the enemy, and were mercilessly tortured and killed in the many killing fields around Cambodia. The Cambodian army was forced to turn in their weapons and possessions with the promise of a new way of life. Instead, they were herded in trucks, taken in to the jungle, and brutally murdered. Between the years of 1975-1979, it is estimated that 3 million people died at the hands of the Khmer Rouge.
1979 - The Vietnamese come to Cambodia to fight the Khmer Rouge. Fighting continues until 1990. Over x million landmines are set, as the Khmer Rouge retreat into Thailand.
1993 - UN sends peacekeeping missions, and begin landmine recovery.
1999 - Aki Ra opens the Landmine museum in Siem Reap. It houses war artifacts, weapons, diffused mines and paintings of various scenes from war -- in order to raise awareness about landmines. He regularly diffuses landmines, and has adopted 10 young victims of landmines. Read more about the Landmine museum, and Aki Ra's personal stories of the war at http://landmine-museum.com/
+ + + + + + +
A FEW LANDMINE STATISTICS
Cambodia is one of the most heavily mined places on earth, where anywhere between 4 million and 6 million land mines are still waiting to claim their victims.
There are twice as many landmines as children in Cambodia.
It may take 50 - 100 years to find and clear every mine.
Without landmines agricultural production could more than double in Cambodia.
More than 54 percent of land mine casualties in the past two years have been work-related.
To donate to the Cambodian Landmine Relief Fund, visit http://www.cambodialandminemuseum.org/
I am full of the haunting beauty of the ancient temples of Angkor, and heartbreak for the devastated peoples of today's Cambodia. There are at least 25 Taj-Mahal-level architectural masterpieces covering 75 square miles in Northwest Cambodia, outside of Siem Reap. They are all Buddhist or Hindu temples, or a combination of the two, built from the 9th - 15th c AD. We spent 4 days wandering labyrinthine walkways, over moats, around elaborately carved grey sandstone towers, and libraries filled with detailed bas reliefs which told the stories of daily life and the spiritual beliefs of the proud and brilliant ancient Khmer civilization.
Today, monks wander like living vibrant orange ghosts -- reminders of the once sacred intent of these halls now filled with tourists like us, sweating and snapping photos. The locals are afraid to be here at night, for the real ghosts are the war dead -- the Khmer Rouge, Vietnamese and Cambodian armies occupied (and desecrated) the temples during the war in the 70's through the 80's.
Alternatively, I'm afraid to be here during the day because of the relentlessness of the vendors -- who launch a full-out assault every time we leave a temple or approach a stand (MISTER, YOU BUY COLD DRINK FROM MEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!). Everyone asks your name, and where you're from, and then for a dollar.
The preferred currency here is the US dollar, then the Thai Baht, then the Cambodian Riel. Even children (who comprise most of the vendors) can easily calculate prices in the three currencies.
Sadly, we didn't have an exchange with a single person who was motivated by anything other than economic advancement. Given their recent history, I guess you can't blame them. A policeman even offered to sell us his badge as a souvenir, and I was conned by a monk look-alike (for one dollar).
However, the Cambodians are some of the most elegant, good-humored, and intelligent people we've met. If peace continues and their economy strengthens, I have hope that the glory evidenced in the temples will return one day to the region.
To see photos of the truly amazing temples, visit: http://www.travel-cambodia.com/angkor_photos.htm
+ + + + + + +
CAMBODIA :: A RECENT HISTORY
paraphrased (and excerpted) from "The Story of my Life" by Aki Ra, the founder of the Cambodian Land Mine Museum in Siem Reap
1886 - France colonizes Cambodia
1942 - Japan invades - France retreats
1945 - Japan retreats (after the US bombing of Hiroshima)
1946 - France returns
Viet Minh and Ho Chi Minh armies fight the French in Cambodia, Vietnam, and Laos
1954 - Under Prince Sikanouk, Cambodia declares independence. Relative peace for 10 years
1969 - US begins anti-communist raids in Cambodia and Laos, alongside the war in Vietnam
1970 - General Lonol and the Cambodian army wage a successful military coup against Prince Sihanouk, who retreats to China. From there, he broadcasts to Cambodian people to fight Lonol's army with the support of the Viet Kong and Chinese. Lonol has support from the powerful armies of Thailand, US, and S. Vietnam, and by 1973, he defeats the Viet Kong.
Meanwhile, the Khmer Rouge (mostly jungle rebels) were becoming stronger and wanted control of Cambodia. Fighting continued between the Khmer Rouge and Lonol's armies until the US, Thai and S. Vietnamese pulled out in 1975 leaving Lonol's army to fall to the Khmer Rouge.
For the next for years, the Cambodian people would suffer greatly under the leadership of communist dictator and Khmer Rouge leader, Pol Pot. His idea was to create an agrarian system that had everyone working in the fields in a way that took them back in time 400 years. By way of implementing this system, the Khmer Rouge took a census of every citizen's job, family and possessions in order to re-organize society. Even the calendar year was set back to zero.
Educated people were considered the enemy, and were mercilessly tortured and killed in the many killing fields around Cambodia. The Cambodian army was forced to turn in their weapons and possessions with the promise of a new way of life. Instead, they were herded in trucks, taken in to the jungle, and brutally murdered. Between the years of 1975-1979, it is estimated that 3 million people died at the hands of the Khmer Rouge.
1979 - The Vietnamese come to Cambodia to fight the Khmer Rouge. Fighting continues until 1990. Over x million landmines are set, as the Khmer Rouge retreat into Thailand.
1993 - UN sends peacekeeping missions, and begin landmine recovery.
1999 - Aki Ra opens the Landmine museum in Siem Reap. It houses war artifacts, weapons, diffused mines and paintings of various scenes from war -- in order to raise awareness about landmines. He regularly diffuses landmines, and has adopted 10 young victims of landmines. Read more about the Landmine museum, and Aki Ra's personal stories of the war at http://landmine-museum.com/
+ + + + + + +
A FEW LANDMINE STATISTICS
Cambodia is one of the most heavily mined places on earth, where anywhere between 4 million and 6 million land mines are still waiting to claim their victims.
There are twice as many landmines as children in Cambodia.
It may take 50 - 100 years to find and clear every mine.
Without landmines agricultural production could more than double in Cambodia.
More than 54 percent of land mine casualties in the past two years have been work-related.
To donate to the Cambodian Landmine Relief Fund, visit http://www.cambodialandminemuseum.org/
5.18.2004
EYE OF THE TIGER
(A letter from Erik to Naked Jon)
naked,
holy crap, i'm so glad i'm alive to write you right now! amy and i survived the most harrowing ordeal last night when we crossed from thailand to siem riep, cambodia. we thought the $12 "minibus" ticket from bangkok to Same Rape was a decent deal.......18 vertebrae crushing hours later, we were not too convinced. we basically fell into some messed up con that we read about in the lonely planet as we were making the trip. it was kind of funny, the warning read like a script, so we at least knew what was coming up. "beware of minibuses leaving the khao san area, for they rarely deliver what is promised, and they will often leave you stranded in the middle of nowhere." little did we know that our driver was taking us out of the way, towards some middle of nowhere border crossing. "the bus will then take you to a "lunch stop", where you are asked to hand over your passports and you are told that the visa to cambodia is now 1300 baht instead of 1000 baht." sure enough, everything followed the script, but a bunch of us, having read the warning, insisted on getting our visas at the border. at this point, our cambodian driver got angry and said if he had to wait for us at the border, he would leave us behind, "stranded in the middle of nowhere." the script also said something about these drivers having a commission from a hotel at the destination, so we figured they wouldn't jeopardize this by leaving us behind. once at the border, rain and lightning began to hammer down, soaking our luggage on the top of the minibus and adding to the sense of doom for the slaves in the ship. the border was the expected, inefficient, corrupt sort of place with sullen, slow moving border officials eying you suspiciously, all asking for an additional 100 baht "immigration fee" (bribe) added to the 1000 baht visa fee. we then had to carry our luggage a half mile in the rain to the other side of the border, where we would then board our cambodian "minibus". on the other side, the roads turn to potholes and pure mud, my flip flops sending up a steady stream of it all over my back. the passengers are funneled to a guest house on the border where the other minibus will pick us up.......but wait, no, the minibus can't make it because of the "broken bridge", so a truck will take us to same rape. two hours and a cock fight later, some sorry little toyota pickup arrives, and somehow 18 people and their bags are supposed to fit inside. i thought it was a bluff, but sure enough, 18 backpackers can do what i thought only circus clowns could do. it was pretty humorous, the sight of it, even locals were staring in disbelief. the truck labored along the cratered, shitty road and we crossed a bridge that was literally just two wet timbers. i just about shit my pants when we crossed that thing - i thought for sure that me, amy and the other 11 unfortunate souls in the back of the truck were going to die in cambodian mud, crushed by a toyota. the problem with this trip, i reckon, is one of improper marketing. if they touted it as a "CAMBODIAN 4X4 ADVENTURE RIDE!" - and maybe have the border officials rough you up a bit, and the occasional mortar blast in the rice paddies, they could easily charge ten times as much for the ride - and every customer would rave about it. or i was thinking that it would have been easier for them to just have us shot and take all our stuff - that would have been easier for them than this charade. to make a long story short - we broke the suspension of that truck, (also noticed that all the tires were worn to the steel belt) waited for another, identically broken-down little truck and many, many potholes and numb limbs later..... "they will then take you on an agonizingly slow ride through the countryside and finally deliver you, late at night, to a guesthouse. the people at the guesthouse will be all smiles, but if you try to go somewhere else, they can get quite hostile." yep, yep, and yep. in the end, i thought it was pretty cool, in a fucked up, almost died but didn't kind of way.....you would have loved it.
loving cambodia, jon.
wish you were here.
erik
(A letter from Erik to Naked Jon)
naked,
holy crap, i'm so glad i'm alive to write you right now! amy and i survived the most harrowing ordeal last night when we crossed from thailand to siem riep, cambodia. we thought the $12 "minibus" ticket from bangkok to Same Rape was a decent deal.......18 vertebrae crushing hours later, we were not too convinced. we basically fell into some messed up con that we read about in the lonely planet as we were making the trip. it was kind of funny, the warning read like a script, so we at least knew what was coming up. "beware of minibuses leaving the khao san area, for they rarely deliver what is promised, and they will often leave you stranded in the middle of nowhere." little did we know that our driver was taking us out of the way, towards some middle of nowhere border crossing. "the bus will then take you to a "lunch stop", where you are asked to hand over your passports and you are told that the visa to cambodia is now 1300 baht instead of 1000 baht." sure enough, everything followed the script, but a bunch of us, having read the warning, insisted on getting our visas at the border. at this point, our cambodian driver got angry and said if he had to wait for us at the border, he would leave us behind, "stranded in the middle of nowhere." the script also said something about these drivers having a commission from a hotel at the destination, so we figured they wouldn't jeopardize this by leaving us behind. once at the border, rain and lightning began to hammer down, soaking our luggage on the top of the minibus and adding to the sense of doom for the slaves in the ship. the border was the expected, inefficient, corrupt sort of place with sullen, slow moving border officials eying you suspiciously, all asking for an additional 100 baht "immigration fee" (bribe) added to the 1000 baht visa fee. we then had to carry our luggage a half mile in the rain to the other side of the border, where we would then board our cambodian "minibus". on the other side, the roads turn to potholes and pure mud, my flip flops sending up a steady stream of it all over my back. the passengers are funneled to a guest house on the border where the other minibus will pick us up.......but wait, no, the minibus can't make it because of the "broken bridge", so a truck will take us to same rape. two hours and a cock fight later, some sorry little toyota pickup arrives, and somehow 18 people and their bags are supposed to fit inside. i thought it was a bluff, but sure enough, 18 backpackers can do what i thought only circus clowns could do. it was pretty humorous, the sight of it, even locals were staring in disbelief. the truck labored along the cratered, shitty road and we crossed a bridge that was literally just two wet timbers. i just about shit my pants when we crossed that thing - i thought for sure that me, amy and the other 11 unfortunate souls in the back of the truck were going to die in cambodian mud, crushed by a toyota. the problem with this trip, i reckon, is one of improper marketing. if they touted it as a "CAMBODIAN 4X4 ADVENTURE RIDE!" - and maybe have the border officials rough you up a bit, and the occasional mortar blast in the rice paddies, they could easily charge ten times as much for the ride - and every customer would rave about it. or i was thinking that it would have been easier for them to just have us shot and take all our stuff - that would have been easier for them than this charade. to make a long story short - we broke the suspension of that truck, (also noticed that all the tires were worn to the steel belt) waited for another, identically broken-down little truck and many, many potholes and numb limbs later..... "they will then take you on an agonizingly slow ride through the countryside and finally deliver you, late at night, to a guesthouse. the people at the guesthouse will be all smiles, but if you try to go somewhere else, they can get quite hostile." yep, yep, and yep. in the end, i thought it was pretty cool, in a fucked up, almost died but didn't kind of way.....you would have loved it.
loving cambodia, jon.
wish you were here.
erik
5.15.2004
THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN GUN
The woman on board known as the countess...
said she was a travel writer. "I am writing
a story for the best and most brilliant
newspaper in the world" -- and she named
a German daily paper. "They respect me so
much that in seventeen years they have
changed only one sentence of mine."
"What was that sentence?"
"It was very reactionary, you will think,"
the countess said.
"I'll be the judge of that."
"All right, then, 'Three hundred years of
colonialism have done less harm to the
world than thirty years of tourism'."
I smiled at her and said, "That's brilliant."
-- Paul Theroux, "The Happy Isles of Oceana"
quoted in Brad Newsham's "Take Me With You"
Thailand managed to escape the clutches of colonialism
(and I think it might be the first country we've visited so far that has). However, it is left holding the double-edged sword of tourism.
I'm writing from a table overlooking the Sok river -- in the middle of the jungle at Kao Sok National Park in Southern Thailand. Across from the swimming hole, monkeys climb down from their limestone caves like clockwork at 5pm for their banana feeding.
We're staying at Art's Riverside Lodge, and our bungalow is a funky treehouse accessed by a wooden suspension bridge. Last night we slept under a mosquito net, windows wide open to let in the symphony of jungle sounds: birdsong, loud frog croaks, indeterminate insect sounds, morning rain shower.
Later today, we'll ride elephants through the jungle to a waterfall for swimming.
Yesterday when we got off the bus, we were accosted by 6 taxi-drivers "Where you stay?!?" Shoving a sign at us listing the popular bungalows. Emphatically pointing and repeating with urgency. I couldn't help but laugh out loud, being fought over for the 20 baht fare (50 cents). They probably make more from the commission than the fare, anyway.
This same scene plays out EVERY time we get off a boat, train, or bus. At times, it's convenient, like at our train's arrival in Surat Thani, just 15 minutes from our boat's scheduled departure from the dock 12k away. Not a minute after we stepped off the train, a well-groomed man approached, wearing jeans and a tidy white shirt, holding a cell phone (EVERYONE in the world has a cell phone now -- except Erik, and my parents). Indeed, he asked where we were staying, where we were going. He led us directly to a taxi, and we made our connection.
Of course, I'm wary of these offers. Especially after reading stories in my guide book about scams where people pretend to be "friends" and give you free food (laced with drugs), lure you onto a mini-bus, then take all your valuables while you're unconscious. So far, we haven't been ripped off -- overcharged daily -- but not mugged or robbed outright.
Most often, I end up feeling like smiling white cattle, with big dollar signs written all over my body. Like on the boat to Ko Tao (one of maybe 5 boats that day, which we shared with no less than 250 other Western tourists, also going to dive after having recovered from the full moon party on Ko Pha Ngan).
During the entire hour and a half boat ride, we were approached at even intervals, by bungalow/dive operators, wanting to show you THEIR 3-ring binder with yellowed photos of mosquito nets in tidy rooms under thatched roofs.
When we got off the boat (10 brochures in hand), there were at least 50 more touters, asking "WHERE YOU STAY!?!" Smiling and pointing at signs. (look straight ahead, do NOT make eye contact, and do not EVER admit you don't know where you're going.)
One trick that they used in the Philippines that they aren't hip to yet here is the one where they hand you the scarf/trinket/flower and then refuse to take the object back, repeating the price and smiling. I had a woman try this on me in front of a church in Manila, handing me a rosary, smiling and gently asking for a donation "of any amount", "for charity".
When I tried to give her 5 pesos, she got louder and more demanding, "200 pesos" "for CHARITY". Yeah, right. I almost had to toss it at her to get her to take it back.
Then there's the bait and switch. We were on our way to the full-moon party, romanticizing about how cool it was going to be to arrive in the traditional long-tail boat we had arranged for at 50 baht each. After all 10 of us were snug in our seats (500 baht is more than a month's income for most Thai fishermen) the driver announced that he would take us right to the party for 80 baht, or to the dock 5 minutes away for the original asking price.
After a long argument (we had decided to find a different taxi, and I had gotten out of the boat) he said he would honor the original price, so we wouldn't think he was a liar (even though he was). In Thailand, saving face and having fun are both of utmost importance.
Besides these exhausting interactions, there's the environmental and cultural degradation that comes along with tourism. I don't know any statistics, but it made me sad to see the long beach at sunrise, solidly littered with plastic bottles, wrappers and broken beer bottles -- floating out to sea after the full moon celebration.
On Ko Tao (the next island to the North), there was scarcely any beach left to see -- every square inch was covered by bungalows and bars for tourists, who spent all day riding motorcycles around the island (us included -- it was really fun).
I read an article in a CNN travel magazine written by a Bali resident who considers the 2002 nightclub bombing a mixed blessing, because now the farmers are back in their fields, instead of pouring drinks at strip clubs and gambling joints -- which were nonexistent before the Western demand put them there.
And of course, I realize that this rant mainly displays my preference for quiet, untouched places, where I can feel like the first outsider to arrive. These cultures have come to enjoy and depend on the wealth that's created by our visits.
Annoyances aside, we are having our share of and fulfilling experiences and real interactions (even with Tuk Tuk drivers who are overcharging us).
Three days ago we took a day-long boat tour around the foliated limestone islands in Phang Nga Bay. The bay become famous after being filmed in the early James Bond movie, "The Man With the Golden Gun." (You can now buy Coca-Cola, postcards, or teddy bears made out of sea shells on the remote James Bond Island). We were the only passengers on board, and enjoyed our private tour of the mangrove swamps, limestone caves and impossibly tall islands.
We started out the trip with an overnight stay at a Muslim fishing village on stilts, an hour's boat ride from the mainland. It's low season right now for tourism -- any day now the monsoons will start on the West Coast -- and we were the only two guests at the lodge. The village is 200 years old, first built by Muslim immigrants from Malaysia. Our hostess was the daughter of a fisherman (our boat's captain) and his father was one of the earlier settlers.
The whole village (2,000 people) is built against the tall cliff of a small island, on top of pilings 25 feet above the sea floor. At low tide, crabs sidle about on the mud flats below, and at high tide it looks like the village floats on the sea.
At sunset, we wandered around the labyrinth of concrete and wooden walkways pieced together to make narrow nameless hanging streets. We watched the sun drop below the distant island peaks, listening to the hauntingly beautiful prayers sounding from the gilded mosque. We walked hand-in-hand with the young Thai children who had befriended us.
+ + + + + + +
UPDATED READING LIST
Just finished:
"Take Me With You" a terrific travelogue by Brad Newsham, featuring stories about Tony, who we stayed with in Banaue, Philippines.
"The Contortionist's Handbook" by Craig Clevenger. Found this on a Thai Air-Con Bus. It was OK. If you liked the movies "Memento" and "Fight Club" you'd like this.
Now reading:
"The Quiet American" by Graham Greene. No commments yet.
+ + + + + + +
SCRABBLE POETRY
Erik :: 324 (drat!)
Amy :: 256
NOISY GRIME
OFT SOURS PLENTY
LOUT TERRIER
VIE YON RIDGED QUIZ
HA
FEMALE CON
The woman on board known as the countess...
said she was a travel writer. "I am writing
a story for the best and most brilliant
newspaper in the world" -- and she named
a German daily paper. "They respect me so
much that in seventeen years they have
changed only one sentence of mine."
"What was that sentence?"
"It was very reactionary, you will think,"
the countess said.
"I'll be the judge of that."
"All right, then, 'Three hundred years of
colonialism have done less harm to the
world than thirty years of tourism'."
I smiled at her and said, "That's brilliant."
-- Paul Theroux, "The Happy Isles of Oceana"
quoted in Brad Newsham's "Take Me With You"
Thailand managed to escape the clutches of colonialism
(and I think it might be the first country we've visited so far that has). However, it is left holding the double-edged sword of tourism.
I'm writing from a table overlooking the Sok river -- in the middle of the jungle at Kao Sok National Park in Southern Thailand. Across from the swimming hole, monkeys climb down from their limestone caves like clockwork at 5pm for their banana feeding.
We're staying at Art's Riverside Lodge, and our bungalow is a funky treehouse accessed by a wooden suspension bridge. Last night we slept under a mosquito net, windows wide open to let in the symphony of jungle sounds: birdsong, loud frog croaks, indeterminate insect sounds, morning rain shower.
Later today, we'll ride elephants through the jungle to a waterfall for swimming.
Yesterday when we got off the bus, we were accosted by 6 taxi-drivers "Where you stay?!?" Shoving a sign at us listing the popular bungalows. Emphatically pointing and repeating with urgency. I couldn't help but laugh out loud, being fought over for the 20 baht fare (50 cents). They probably make more from the commission than the fare, anyway.
This same scene plays out EVERY time we get off a boat, train, or bus. At times, it's convenient, like at our train's arrival in Surat Thani, just 15 minutes from our boat's scheduled departure from the dock 12k away. Not a minute after we stepped off the train, a well-groomed man approached, wearing jeans and a tidy white shirt, holding a cell phone (EVERYONE in the world has a cell phone now -- except Erik, and my parents). Indeed, he asked where we were staying, where we were going. He led us directly to a taxi, and we made our connection.
Of course, I'm wary of these offers. Especially after reading stories in my guide book about scams where people pretend to be "friends" and give you free food (laced with drugs), lure you onto a mini-bus, then take all your valuables while you're unconscious. So far, we haven't been ripped off -- overcharged daily -- but not mugged or robbed outright.
Most often, I end up feeling like smiling white cattle, with big dollar signs written all over my body. Like on the boat to Ko Tao (one of maybe 5 boats that day, which we shared with no less than 250 other Western tourists, also going to dive after having recovered from the full moon party on Ko Pha Ngan).
During the entire hour and a half boat ride, we were approached at even intervals, by bungalow/dive operators, wanting to show you THEIR 3-ring binder with yellowed photos of mosquito nets in tidy rooms under thatched roofs.
When we got off the boat (10 brochures in hand), there were at least 50 more touters, asking "WHERE YOU STAY!?!" Smiling and pointing at signs. (look straight ahead, do NOT make eye contact, and do not EVER admit you don't know where you're going.)
One trick that they used in the Philippines that they aren't hip to yet here is the one where they hand you the scarf/trinket/flower and then refuse to take the object back, repeating the price and smiling. I had a woman try this on me in front of a church in Manila, handing me a rosary, smiling and gently asking for a donation "of any amount", "for charity".
When I tried to give her 5 pesos, she got louder and more demanding, "200 pesos" "for CHARITY". Yeah, right. I almost had to toss it at her to get her to take it back.
Then there's the bait and switch. We were on our way to the full-moon party, romanticizing about how cool it was going to be to arrive in the traditional long-tail boat we had arranged for at 50 baht each. After all 10 of us were snug in our seats (500 baht is more than a month's income for most Thai fishermen) the driver announced that he would take us right to the party for 80 baht, or to the dock 5 minutes away for the original asking price.
After a long argument (we had decided to find a different taxi, and I had gotten out of the boat) he said he would honor the original price, so we wouldn't think he was a liar (even though he was). In Thailand, saving face and having fun are both of utmost importance.
Besides these exhausting interactions, there's the environmental and cultural degradation that comes along with tourism. I don't know any statistics, but it made me sad to see the long beach at sunrise, solidly littered with plastic bottles, wrappers and broken beer bottles -- floating out to sea after the full moon celebration.
On Ko Tao (the next island to the North), there was scarcely any beach left to see -- every square inch was covered by bungalows and bars for tourists, who spent all day riding motorcycles around the island (us included -- it was really fun).
I read an article in a CNN travel magazine written by a Bali resident who considers the 2002 nightclub bombing a mixed blessing, because now the farmers are back in their fields, instead of pouring drinks at strip clubs and gambling joints -- which were nonexistent before the Western demand put them there.
And of course, I realize that this rant mainly displays my preference for quiet, untouched places, where I can feel like the first outsider to arrive. These cultures have come to enjoy and depend on the wealth that's created by our visits.
Annoyances aside, we are having our share of and fulfilling experiences and real interactions (even with Tuk Tuk drivers who are overcharging us).
Three days ago we took a day-long boat tour around the foliated limestone islands in Phang Nga Bay. The bay become famous after being filmed in the early James Bond movie, "The Man With the Golden Gun." (You can now buy Coca-Cola, postcards, or teddy bears made out of sea shells on the remote James Bond Island). We were the only passengers on board, and enjoyed our private tour of the mangrove swamps, limestone caves and impossibly tall islands.
We started out the trip with an overnight stay at a Muslim fishing village on stilts, an hour's boat ride from the mainland. It's low season right now for tourism -- any day now the monsoons will start on the West Coast -- and we were the only two guests at the lodge. The village is 200 years old, first built by Muslim immigrants from Malaysia. Our hostess was the daughter of a fisherman (our boat's captain) and his father was one of the earlier settlers.
The whole village (2,000 people) is built against the tall cliff of a small island, on top of pilings 25 feet above the sea floor. At low tide, crabs sidle about on the mud flats below, and at high tide it looks like the village floats on the sea.
At sunset, we wandered around the labyrinth of concrete and wooden walkways pieced together to make narrow nameless hanging streets. We watched the sun drop below the distant island peaks, listening to the hauntingly beautiful prayers sounding from the gilded mosque. We walked hand-in-hand with the young Thai children who had befriended us.
+ + + + + + +
UPDATED READING LIST
Just finished:
"Take Me With You" a terrific travelogue by Brad Newsham, featuring stories about Tony, who we stayed with in Banaue, Philippines.
"The Contortionist's Handbook" by Craig Clevenger. Found this on a Thai Air-Con Bus. It was OK. If you liked the movies "Memento" and "Fight Club" you'd like this.
Now reading:
"The Quiet American" by Graham Greene. No commments yet.
+ + + + + + +
SCRABBLE POETRY
Erik :: 324 (drat!)
Amy :: 256
NOISY GRIME
OFT SOURS PLENTY
LOUT TERRIER
VIE YON RIDGED QUIZ
HA
FEMALE CON
5.02.2004
SHOPPING FOR TAMPONS IN KOTA BARU
I walked into a drug store with Erik, looking for astringent (it's at least 90 degrees and 90%humidity), mascara, and tampons. We're in the capital city of the most conservative Muslim state in Malaysia, Kelantan. We are the only westerners in the store, and I am certainly the only woman not wearing a head scarf.
I'm looking at the astringent, and it's impossible to find one without skin lightening agents. As I give up, and turn to find tampons, I'm approached by two female clerks. "I'm looking for tampons?" Blank looks. "Feminine hygiene?" Blank looks. "For period?" Pointing down.
They look at me, then Erik, then point me in the right direction. Behind us, they giggle, and I'm wondering if they've ever seen a man and a woman shopping for tampons together, here in a place where a boyfriend and girlfriend can get fined by the police for holding hands unmarried.
As I search the aisles, I can only find pads -- all sizes, with or without wings -- but no tampons (this is the second store I've tried). Just then 3 (!) female clerks approach, and now that they understand what I'm looking for, inform me that they are not available here, or anywhere else in Kota Baru. I'll get my tampons tomorrow in Thailand.
+ + + + + + +
KECIL :: PULAU (ISLAND) PERHENTIAN :: MALAYSIA
Sitting in my sarong at table #6, the turquoise lagoon at my left a gentle roar. Waiting for breakfast: "Set D" -- eggs, toast, tea, fruit -- for 5 ringit ($1.50). Memories of last night's storm in the wet cobblestones.
We were awakened in the middle of the night by immense metallic splitting wood. Sparks fly, electricity out. I was convinced we wouldn't survive the night -- be one of those couples you read about struck by lightening in their bed.
Earlier in the evening, we'd abruptly stopped our game of chunka (a traditional game of marbles) when the owner ran in, sweaty and out of breath. A rare sea turtle sighting on Adam and Eve beach, on the opposite side of the island. She was looking for a spot to lay her eggs -- we were lucky.
A group of us westerners took of on the 20-minute hike through the jungle -- clambering roots, humid canopy, umbilicus vines -- which opened out onto a palm-lined cove, perfect white-sand beach gently lapping up and sparkling in the half moonlight.
We spotted what we thought was the turtle, then realized we were practically standing on her -- the other a pile leaves. We moved away and sat for hours, watching her in the moonlight, digging with her hind legs, her massive shell weighing her down. Grunting through the work, with sounds of primeval ripeness.
Earlier that day, we arrived to "D'Lagoon" via speedboat, checked in, and headed straight for the beach at Turtle Bay. Along the way we say 2 5-foot monitor lizards. Like seeing living dinosaurs. The water was bath temperature, and the bottom was filled with coral. We looked forward to snorkeling the next day.
As we swam, a blonde woman approached, and said she'd seen a man crawling up on his belly, about to grab my backpack. When he saw her he slithered away. This time we learned the easy way.
+ + + + + + +
Underwater world weightless aquanaut.
Sounds of Darth Vader breathing and faroff shore crashing,
pebbles clicking or is it fish coral biting?
Intricate flat webbed mauve mushrooms,
ribbed yellow brains, fingers of lace, fields of antlers.
Fish swim in schools and alone:
small silver slivers travel in unison.
Two yellow oblong with purple mouths,
large neon rainbows like a tacky t-shirt.
Half white/half black tiger stripes with red mouths.
Yellow with blue stripes, blue with yellow stripes.
Spotted, striped, patterned, plain.
The subtle feeling of fear, out of my element,
unknown.
A shark in the shadows, stingray below,
invisible sea lice prick like acupuncture all over.
Light streams through in ribbons,
layers of warm and cool currents push and pull.
+ + + + + + +
HOMEMADE SCRABBLE :: GAME TWO :: 4.20.04
AMY: 260
ERIK: 247
SCRABBLE HAIKU:
evil axis pay gaily
fifth azure gruel
quark tumor
legal maw
coons ditches
rove sir
+ + + + + + +
THAILAND :: TRAIN TO SURAT THANI FROM THE MALAY BORDER
White temple with red roof, curled gold unfurl at peaks. Palm trees, thatched huts. Makeshift corrugated steel houses. Rail-thin cows. Clothes lines full of color. Woven walled huts with tin roofs. An empty large clay pot in a wide yard. A hut made out of billboards and plastic sheeting. A line of bird cages, a line of concrete pig pens. Filfth. Squalor. Heaps of woven baskets in disrepair. A whole village now of corrugated steel on stilts above floating garbage. Another temple rises above, pure white, ornate red and blue and gold. Another train -- we watch each other pass by. We slow, the stop: Hat Yai Junction. Stands selling cokes and chips, toilet paper, candy. Dozens of men in uniform with machine guns. 2 sit right behind us. A few days earlier 90 Muslim extremists were killed here in the South. A few weeks before they had bombed public buildings. More people get on. This chubby Thai kid in front of me leans out of the window chowing on a chicken leg. We're moving again. Granite chips in a train car. Rusted lengths of steel. A blue and red jungle gym. We accelerate. More steel villages. Chickens. In the distance, one modern glass and steel high-rise. Teens washing their blue moped. A deafening clatter when we cross bridges. The smell of humid dirt. A woman walks down the aisle peddling apples, another with banana chips. A bamboo fence, an old tree. The boy drops his chicken bone from the window. The man with a blue buckets re-stocks with icy drinks walks by. Man with machine gun walks by. Rice paddies -- just after harvest. Algae floats on top of water. Tidy rows of rubber trees. A rusted road sign -- illegible. Blind man walks by, singing in Thai for spare change.
I walked into a drug store with Erik, looking for astringent (it's at least 90 degrees and 90%humidity), mascara, and tampons. We're in the capital city of the most conservative Muslim state in Malaysia, Kelantan. We are the only westerners in the store, and I am certainly the only woman not wearing a head scarf.
I'm looking at the astringent, and it's impossible to find one without skin lightening agents. As I give up, and turn to find tampons, I'm approached by two female clerks. "I'm looking for tampons?" Blank looks. "Feminine hygiene?" Blank looks. "For period?" Pointing down.
They look at me, then Erik, then point me in the right direction. Behind us, they giggle, and I'm wondering if they've ever seen a man and a woman shopping for tampons together, here in a place where a boyfriend and girlfriend can get fined by the police for holding hands unmarried.
As I search the aisles, I can only find pads -- all sizes, with or without wings -- but no tampons (this is the second store I've tried). Just then 3 (!) female clerks approach, and now that they understand what I'm looking for, inform me that they are not available here, or anywhere else in Kota Baru. I'll get my tampons tomorrow in Thailand.
+ + + + + + +
KECIL :: PULAU (ISLAND) PERHENTIAN :: MALAYSIA
Sitting in my sarong at table #6, the turquoise lagoon at my left a gentle roar. Waiting for breakfast: "Set D" -- eggs, toast, tea, fruit -- for 5 ringit ($1.50). Memories of last night's storm in the wet cobblestones.
We were awakened in the middle of the night by immense metallic splitting wood. Sparks fly, electricity out. I was convinced we wouldn't survive the night -- be one of those couples you read about struck by lightening in their bed.
Earlier in the evening, we'd abruptly stopped our game of chunka (a traditional game of marbles) when the owner ran in, sweaty and out of breath. A rare sea turtle sighting on Adam and Eve beach, on the opposite side of the island. She was looking for a spot to lay her eggs -- we were lucky.
A group of us westerners took of on the 20-minute hike through the jungle -- clambering roots, humid canopy, umbilicus vines -- which opened out onto a palm-lined cove, perfect white-sand beach gently lapping up and sparkling in the half moonlight.
We spotted what we thought was the turtle, then realized we were practically standing on her -- the other a pile leaves. We moved away and sat for hours, watching her in the moonlight, digging with her hind legs, her massive shell weighing her down. Grunting through the work, with sounds of primeval ripeness.
Earlier that day, we arrived to "D'Lagoon" via speedboat, checked in, and headed straight for the beach at Turtle Bay. Along the way we say 2 5-foot monitor lizards. Like seeing living dinosaurs. The water was bath temperature, and the bottom was filled with coral. We looked forward to snorkeling the next day.
As we swam, a blonde woman approached, and said she'd seen a man crawling up on his belly, about to grab my backpack. When he saw her he slithered away. This time we learned the easy way.
+ + + + + + +
Underwater world weightless aquanaut.
Sounds of Darth Vader breathing and faroff shore crashing,
pebbles clicking or is it fish coral biting?
Intricate flat webbed mauve mushrooms,
ribbed yellow brains, fingers of lace, fields of antlers.
Fish swim in schools and alone:
small silver slivers travel in unison.
Two yellow oblong with purple mouths,
large neon rainbows like a tacky t-shirt.
Half white/half black tiger stripes with red mouths.
Yellow with blue stripes, blue with yellow stripes.
Spotted, striped, patterned, plain.
The subtle feeling of fear, out of my element,
unknown.
A shark in the shadows, stingray below,
invisible sea lice prick like acupuncture all over.
Light streams through in ribbons,
layers of warm and cool currents push and pull.
+ + + + + + +
HOMEMADE SCRABBLE :: GAME TWO :: 4.20.04
AMY: 260
ERIK: 247
SCRABBLE HAIKU:
evil axis pay gaily
fifth azure gruel
quark tumor
legal maw
coons ditches
rove sir
+ + + + + + +
THAILAND :: TRAIN TO SURAT THANI FROM THE MALAY BORDER
White temple with red roof, curled gold unfurl at peaks. Palm trees, thatched huts. Makeshift corrugated steel houses. Rail-thin cows. Clothes lines full of color. Woven walled huts with tin roofs. An empty large clay pot in a wide yard. A hut made out of billboards and plastic sheeting. A line of bird cages, a line of concrete pig pens. Filfth. Squalor. Heaps of woven baskets in disrepair. A whole village now of corrugated steel on stilts above floating garbage. Another temple rises above, pure white, ornate red and blue and gold. Another train -- we watch each other pass by. We slow, the stop: Hat Yai Junction. Stands selling cokes and chips, toilet paper, candy. Dozens of men in uniform with machine guns. 2 sit right behind us. A few days earlier 90 Muslim extremists were killed here in the South. A few weeks before they had bombed public buildings. More people get on. This chubby Thai kid in front of me leans out of the window chowing on a chicken leg. We're moving again. Granite chips in a train car. Rusted lengths of steel. A blue and red jungle gym. We accelerate. More steel villages. Chickens. In the distance, one modern glass and steel high-rise. Teens washing their blue moped. A deafening clatter when we cross bridges. The smell of humid dirt. A woman walks down the aisle peddling apples, another with banana chips. A bamboo fence, an old tree. The boy drops his chicken bone from the window. The man with a blue buckets re-stocks with icy drinks walks by. Man with machine gun walks by. Rice paddies -- just after harvest. Algae floats on top of water. Tidy rows of rubber trees. A rusted road sign -- illegible. Blind man walks by, singing in Thai for spare change.
