The truth about the protests here in Bangkok:
While an ongoing and serious issue for the People's Alliance for Democracy (yellow) and the government they're opposing (red), the strife does not extend beyond the groups included. It'd be like living in Red Hook, and being told there was a "riot" on the uws, or being in Santa Monica and hearing of "protests" at Staples Center or the Rose Bowl. I mean yea, it's escalated, but from barely nothing to a blip on the radar. Plus, it's the people against the gov't, so nobody is targeted in particular, but more symbols of the government in place (unless you're one of the unlucky fellows put in place to subdue the protestors).
Don't believe me? These are a few of my favorite local media comments on the protest(er)s: "traffic nuisance", "Christmas carolers", "never-ending saga", "futile [...] drain on society" and, "political melodrama." The protesters, who are unhappy with the current PM, who is laterally related to the last ousted one (but they chose yellow for their color? Confusing because it's the color for the royalty around here, there are yellow flags all over the place because the King's birthday is coming up in the first week of December. Perhaps intentional politically, or maybe they're trying to boost their numbers?), are publicly insulting the gov't, with doozies like "monitor lizards." Apparently just the absolute worst, as far as Thai insults go. I gather it's akin to a slap in the face with a glove. SIRISAIDGOODDAY!
My favorite so far is the quote from a protest leader, who lays out his plan. "First, we will not let the cabinet use [Don Muang Airport] for their meetings anymore. Second, wherever they go for their meetings, we have our special troops that will follow them there." And then, once they get there, who knows? Maybe more insults. Maybe not. It's just too hard to tell, really.
So here I am for another few days. It's not so bad, I get to hang out and talk to some more travelers about places I want to go, in exchange for made up stories about places they want to go. The airports are closed down, so the hostel is getting crowded, i.e. more people to have fun with. I hope things are resolved by Friday, because that's when my flight is. I'm off to Bali at the end of the week (Protests allowing), where I will be through the end of the calendar year. From there I can visit Lombok, possibly Australia too... kinda just seeing where the wind takes me. As always, I'm open to any and all suggestions, those received thus far have been extremely helpful, so many thanks. And watch out for those monitor lizards, they might be able to travel through the series of tubes that make up the internets. I know that's old, but I just don't want to let that one die. That, and I'm like your (my) senile grandma: out of touch and eager to be in on the news.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
And now for something completely unrelated:
So I saw, like, the last ten minutes of this movie, which was completely amazing, and if you knew about it, to hell with you for not telling me about it's glory; if you didn't know about it, then I think you should go to your little netflix cue or your video rental store or download off the internet the next time you're like, "hey, I feel like watching something awesome," and then thank me for it.
This little Canadian film gem is about zombies. I know. Awesome already, right?
Let me paint the picture of where I came in, late last night, flipping through channels, before I went to bed.
1950's neighborhood, all gaudy and pastel a la Edward Scissorhands. Boxy paddy wagon complete with bars on the back windows, slamming shut, we see blue faced FIDO (both literally and figuratively, as this particular zombie is bummed to be imprisoned) thrown in the slammer. Little Timmy runs across his perfectly manicured lawn to the street, screaming "FIDO! NOOO!" But it's too late. Fido is already being taken away.
Enter fedora capped trench coat donning government official. He's here to inform Timmy he's done a very bad thing, and dutifully scolds little Timmy that because of his carelessness people in the neighborhood have died. But, lucky for Timmy, his parents assured the government nothing like this will ever happen again, and Father appears in the street to subsequently send Timmy to his room.
Spoiler alert!
Fido is freed from the Zombie internment camp by shotgun wielding Mother, who turns out to be that black haired chick from House, and Father dies I think from the gun that he gave 9 year old Timmy, but I can't be sure. Then Fido marries mother and takes over as head of the household. The little neighbor girl gets her own zombie, who she carries around on a chain leash, whom she assertively and kinda masochistically calls "Daddy."
Favorite line: [mother to father]: "Bill, just because your father tried to eat you, does that mean we all have to be unhappy... forever?!"
I'm in love.
This little Canadian film gem is about zombies. I know. Awesome already, right?
Let me paint the picture of where I came in, late last night, flipping through channels, before I went to bed.
1950's neighborhood, all gaudy and pastel a la Edward Scissorhands. Boxy paddy wagon complete with bars on the back windows, slamming shut, we see blue faced FIDO (both literally and figuratively, as this particular zombie is bummed to be imprisoned) thrown in the slammer. Little Timmy runs across his perfectly manicured lawn to the street, screaming "FIDO! NOOO!" But it's too late. Fido is already being taken away.
Enter fedora capped trench coat donning government official. He's here to inform Timmy he's done a very bad thing, and dutifully scolds little Timmy that because of his carelessness people in the neighborhood have died. But, lucky for Timmy, his parents assured the government nothing like this will ever happen again, and Father appears in the street to subsequently send Timmy to his room.
Spoiler alert!
Fido is freed from the Zombie internment camp by shotgun wielding Mother, who turns out to be that black haired chick from House, and Father dies I think from the gun that he gave 9 year old Timmy, but I can't be sure. Then Fido marries mother and takes over as head of the household. The little neighbor girl gets her own zombie, who she carries around on a chain leash, whom she assertively and kinda masochistically calls "Daddy."
Favorite line: [mother to father]: "Bill, just because your father tried to eat you, does that mean we all have to be unhappy... forever?!"
I'm in love.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Bangkok - day one
Well I think I have found Los Angeles' equivalent, it's doppelganger city. Ironically, the original name for Bangkok translates to "city of angels." It's busy with business and tourists, the traffic is terrible, most the people who were born here live here their whole lives, a lot of people from satellite cities come here for work, a lot fo commuters, there is a huge disparity in social and economic class that is easily ignored by pretty much everyone because of how secluded each little "burrough" or community is from it's neighbor (think north vs south Pico Blvd in West LA, or the fashion district in downtown). There is everything from high fashion and huge hotels to homeless living in the back streets, a wide variety of culture and cuisine, and a huge tourist industry. The only main difference is the prominence of the river here, and it's use for travel. That, and all the squiggly writing (Arrested Development, anyone?) So far, the sights are enough to keep me interested (Emerald Buddah, Sukumvit, Johnson's house, Wat ARUN!!!).
I will spend the next few days here, until I have a sort of itinerary mapped out. I plan to visit Connie and Mac in the south/east, for a short while, so I can get my bearings (and of course see where Mac's been living and teaching). At that point I hope to have myself in the works for a travel to teach program (or something of the like) set for January-ish, which will allow me to travel for fun for the next month or so. I have a ticket back home that is good for the next 6 months, and can be changed within that time freely. It's currently set for February.
Which leaves me on my own for Thanksgiving (unless I'm with C&M), My 25th birthday, Hanukkah/Christmas (Luke's first!!), and New Year's eve. It will be tough, because this is the time of year we all spend time together, get to see one another and bond over how crazy everyone else is making us... but I assure you I'll be fine. I feel so blessed to be able to take this journey. The elements that equated to this situation were too "once in a lifetime" for me to pass up. And I have such strong connections with the towns I visit, and the people I meet along the way, I know I won't be "alone" for a minute of it.
Plus, you all know how much I like myself, who else would I want to spend this time with?
I'll be keeping you posted...
I will spend the next few days here, until I have a sort of itinerary mapped out. I plan to visit Connie and Mac in the south/east, for a short while, so I can get my bearings (and of course see where Mac's been living and teaching). At that point I hope to have myself in the works for a travel to teach program (or something of the like) set for January-ish, which will allow me to travel for fun for the next month or so. I have a ticket back home that is good for the next 6 months, and can be changed within that time freely. It's currently set for February.
Which leaves me on my own for Thanksgiving (unless I'm with C&M), My 25th birthday, Hanukkah/Christmas (Luke's first!!), and New Year's eve. It will be tough, because this is the time of year we all spend time together, get to see one another and bond over how crazy everyone else is making us... but I assure you I'll be fine. I feel so blessed to be able to take this journey. The elements that equated to this situation were too "once in a lifetime" for me to pass up. And I have such strong connections with the towns I visit, and the people I meet along the way, I know I won't be "alone" for a minute of it.
Plus, you all know how much I like myself, who else would I want to spend this time with?
I'll be keeping you posted...
Friday, November 21, 2008
Last Day!
I have been a bad blogger, and for that I should apologize. I admit it. Mea culpa. My bad. Whoopsie Daisy. Let's move on.
I'll catch up once my parents leave, but for now I am enjoying their company and our last few days together in this really sweet hotel before I'm on my own. That's right -- I have officially decided to stay a while longer, at least til after the New Year! Today we are going to a tennis match, and watch the greats John McEnroe and Bjorn Borg fight on the court ... I'm really looking forward to it. Dad loves tennis, and I was raised by a family who watched tennis a lot, which pretty much makes me a fan. A few sides to catch everyone up before I have more time to post something more specific:
-We went from Cambodia to Krabi, which was a beautiful island getaway. It's what dreams are made of, as lame as that sounds. Went snorkeling, saw some elephants, went on a hike, there is rock climbing and plenty of other activities. For some reason there more than anywhere else yet, I wished my brother was there with us, it would have been really fun to do some of those activites with him. I will have to settle with recommendations for when he comes next time.
--> We took a day and drove up to Khao Lak where the Tsunami hit a few years back, to see the final resting place of our dear dear friend Luke Scully. It was beautiful, and personally it made me a little happy to be there, to see that really there is no other place I would want to spend my last day on Earth. It was tough to not imagine a 40 foot wave on the horizon, and what that would look like, and they do little to try and deter you from being aware where you are. There are tsunami warning zone signs and evacuation route signs every 100 meters or so on your way in to the beach. A little much, and a little too late, but I guess it's better than nothing.
-Kho Poo Poo and Kho Phi Phi (pee pee) are two islands next to each other in the south, and Phuket is actually pronounced foo-kit (I thought it was poo - keht). No wonder Thailand is called the land of smiles...
We're in Bangkok now, as I mentioned, and it's very busy here. We've been enjoying the hotel and it's perks, it's almost comical how attentive the staff is here. You can't think of something you want before they're getting it for you. Every floor has a butler. They have complimentary champagne waiting for you in your room, the good stuff. When you walk into breakfast, and give them your room number, they know your name by the time you've reached the table (I think I've figured out how they do it, but I was dumbfounded the first time). I haven't ever stayed any place with better customer service. They even picked us up in a BMW from the airport! Needless to say it will be a bit of an adjustment once the parents leave. Haha. I'm looking forward to it!!
So if anyone wants to come spend the holidays out here, let me know, I am going to either be volunteering or working, but I haven't planned that far ahead. On my list of places to visit (might I mention it's extremely ambitious?):
Bali
India
NZ
Aus
Laos (again)
Do-able, right? ;)
I'll catch up once my parents leave, but for now I am enjoying their company and our last few days together in this really sweet hotel before I'm on my own. That's right -- I have officially decided to stay a while longer, at least til after the New Year! Today we are going to a tennis match, and watch the greats John McEnroe and Bjorn Borg fight on the court ... I'm really looking forward to it. Dad loves tennis, and I was raised by a family who watched tennis a lot, which pretty much makes me a fan. A few sides to catch everyone up before I have more time to post something more specific:
-We went from Cambodia to Krabi, which was a beautiful island getaway. It's what dreams are made of, as lame as that sounds. Went snorkeling, saw some elephants, went on a hike, there is rock climbing and plenty of other activities. For some reason there more than anywhere else yet, I wished my brother was there with us, it would have been really fun to do some of those activites with him. I will have to settle with recommendations for when he comes next time.
--> We took a day and drove up to Khao Lak where the Tsunami hit a few years back, to see the final resting place of our dear dear friend Luke Scully. It was beautiful, and personally it made me a little happy to be there, to see that really there is no other place I would want to spend my last day on Earth. It was tough to not imagine a 40 foot wave on the horizon, and what that would look like, and they do little to try and deter you from being aware where you are. There are tsunami warning zone signs and evacuation route signs every 100 meters or so on your way in to the beach. A little much, and a little too late, but I guess it's better than nothing.
-Kho Poo Poo and Kho Phi Phi (pee pee) are two islands next to each other in the south, and Phuket is actually pronounced foo-kit (I thought it was poo - keht). No wonder Thailand is called the land of smiles...
We're in Bangkok now, as I mentioned, and it's very busy here. We've been enjoying the hotel and it's perks, it's almost comical how attentive the staff is here. You can't think of something you want before they're getting it for you. Every floor has a butler. They have complimentary champagne waiting for you in your room, the good stuff. When you walk into breakfast, and give them your room number, they know your name by the time you've reached the table (I think I've figured out how they do it, but I was dumbfounded the first time). I haven't ever stayed any place with better customer service. They even picked us up in a BMW from the airport! Needless to say it will be a bit of an adjustment once the parents leave. Haha. I'm looking forward to it!!
So if anyone wants to come spend the holidays out here, let me know, I am going to either be volunteering or working, but I haven't planned that far ahead. On my list of places to visit (might I mention it's extremely ambitious?):
Bali
India
NZ
Aus
Laos (again)
Do-able, right? ;)
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
mekong youkong
Well this is a bit late, and while I worte it long after the fact, I thought I published it way back when. Anyway, here 'tis:
We went from Chiang Mai to Chiang Rai, spent the day in the outskirts of Chiang Rai, then the following day drove to the river to get on this boat that Mom swore up and down was not going to be uncomfortable or affected by the rainy weather, because : "my 80 year old friends recommended it to me, so how bad could it be?" She said it like that is a good thing. Attempting to communicate reassurance, I was not comforted.
So it was not surprising that once we crossed the river to Laos in the rain on a tiny little long boat to get our visas, that the hot frenchmen who I had been chatting with kept going straight when we stopped in to our check in to our tour. There were a group of older white haired Brits, who wore socks with sandals and took turns while speaking. "By golly George," Blanche said while checking her timepiece, "it's nearly time for a snackie, wouldn't you say?" It was 9am. George said something in an accent so thick I couldn't tell what he responded, but apparently it was hil-ar-ious, because they all laughed in unison. Cue iPod.
Once we got our visas and our luggage on the boat, we got comfortable. I of course chose the table with the guys who were under 40, mom went for comfort over company, and Sarah bee lined to the front of the boat where she could smoke. Cue Don DeLillo.
I must admit, I immediately stereotyped everyone one the boat within the first few hours. What else are you going to do for 7+ hours on a boat? Mountain scenery and trees only entertains you for so long. The interesting part is not that my preconceptions were shattered by the end of day 2 (they in some cases were), but that for the most part were spot on: each person fit into his or her regional stereotype perfectly... with we Americans headlining the playbill.
Canadians (4): A 30 something woman traveling with her elderly father, who I think was only there to amuse his daughter. She had a nose ring and a short man haircut circa 1990, and wore socks with her tivas. She had one diamond ring on her left ring finger, and it looked like it was either from HSN or Debeers. She dressed for comfort and practically, and had a fanny pack that she never took off, even when she was wearing her backpack - which was always. Her dad was old and distinguished, and neither spoke to the other for the entire two day trip. They just sat on different benches, near but never across from one another, and read books that they admitted to having read before. But not to each other. They were traveling with another Canadian couple, a retired couple of childless teachers who seemed to have come to Asia to document their benevolence. Because, you know, it isn't good unless you can show your friends back home how philanthropic you are. When scouring one of two scheduled stops at hill tribe villages, the husband actually had his wife re-walk the path from the boat with candy in hand to give to the begging children, because his camcorder wasn't on the first time. Day 2 this man bought whiskey from the 2nd scheduled hill tribe and got hammered before noon. "We're Canadian, this is how we stay warm," he breathed. Touche.
Swiss (4): 2 interracial couples, and none of them from Switzerland, all of them men. One from Holland, one from Germany, one from Belgium, and the last one from the Czech Republic. 3 lawyers, one anesthesiologist. The German was extremely interested in American politics, and was happy to inform us of the world's view of America, which I will spare you (this was pre-election, by the way). They all also loved to talk about chocolate, and were happy to break their diets when we shared our Sees candies.
Young British guys (2): Very pale. Lawyer, AdMan. Made extremely dry, sarcastic and snarky comments aloud and unabashedly about most everyone and everything, but no matter how funny they were I'm pretty sure they were the only two in on the jokes. Became weak in the knees when I mentioned "fish and chips."
Northern Californians (2): A recent college grad traveling with his very hip and worldly mother. She looked very bohemian and all her clothes were native to somewhere far away and probably one of a kind. She had really chunky jewelry that I was envious of, and she had a lot of good information on places in s.e. asia to visit. He was a good source of info for places where backpackers liked to party.
You can imagine where we (3) fit into all this, and that by the end of day one, at the river lodge, mom and I were sitting with the Swiss dudes sharing wine and sticking our noses in the air at the stiff old Brits who otherwise stayed in a completely isolated part of the boat. By the time we got to Laos, we had exchanged emails, phone numbers, and home addresses with nearly all of them, with open house policies instated across the board. Interlaken, anyone?
We went from Chiang Mai to Chiang Rai, spent the day in the outskirts of Chiang Rai, then the following day drove to the river to get on this boat that Mom swore up and down was not going to be uncomfortable or affected by the rainy weather, because : "my 80 year old friends recommended it to me, so how bad could it be?" She said it like that is a good thing. Attempting to communicate reassurance, I was not comforted.
So it was not surprising that once we crossed the river to Laos in the rain on a tiny little long boat to get our visas, that the hot frenchmen who I had been chatting with kept going straight when we stopped in to our check in to our tour. There were a group of older white haired Brits, who wore socks with sandals and took turns while speaking. "By golly George," Blanche said while checking her timepiece, "it's nearly time for a snackie, wouldn't you say?" It was 9am. George said something in an accent so thick I couldn't tell what he responded, but apparently it was hil-ar-ious, because they all laughed in unison. Cue iPod.
Once we got our visas and our luggage on the boat, we got comfortable. I of course chose the table with the guys who were under 40, mom went for comfort over company, and Sarah bee lined to the front of the boat where she could smoke. Cue Don DeLillo.
I must admit, I immediately stereotyped everyone one the boat within the first few hours. What else are you going to do for 7+ hours on a boat? Mountain scenery and trees only entertains you for so long. The interesting part is not that my preconceptions were shattered by the end of day 2 (they in some cases were), but that for the most part were spot on: each person fit into his or her regional stereotype perfectly... with we Americans headlining the playbill.
Canadians (4): A 30 something woman traveling with her elderly father, who I think was only there to amuse his daughter. She had a nose ring and a short man haircut circa 1990, and wore socks with her tivas. She had one diamond ring on her left ring finger, and it looked like it was either from HSN or Debeers. She dressed for comfort and practically, and had a fanny pack that she never took off, even when she was wearing her backpack - which was always. Her dad was old and distinguished, and neither spoke to the other for the entire two day trip. They just sat on different benches, near but never across from one another, and read books that they admitted to having read before. But not to each other. They were traveling with another Canadian couple, a retired couple of childless teachers who seemed to have come to Asia to document their benevolence. Because, you know, it isn't good unless you can show your friends back home how philanthropic you are. When scouring one of two scheduled stops at hill tribe villages, the husband actually had his wife re-walk the path from the boat with candy in hand to give to the begging children, because his camcorder wasn't on the first time. Day 2 this man bought whiskey from the 2nd scheduled hill tribe and got hammered before noon. "We're Canadian, this is how we stay warm," he breathed. Touche.
Swiss (4): 2 interracial couples, and none of them from Switzerland, all of them men. One from Holland, one from Germany, one from Belgium, and the last one from the Czech Republic. 3 lawyers, one anesthesiologist. The German was extremely interested in American politics, and was happy to inform us of the world's view of America, which I will spare you (this was pre-election, by the way). They all also loved to talk about chocolate, and were happy to break their diets when we shared our Sees candies.
Young British guys (2): Very pale. Lawyer, AdMan. Made extremely dry, sarcastic and snarky comments aloud and unabashedly about most everyone and everything, but no matter how funny they were I'm pretty sure they were the only two in on the jokes. Became weak in the knees when I mentioned "fish and chips."
Northern Californians (2): A recent college grad traveling with his very hip and worldly mother. She looked very bohemian and all her clothes were native to somewhere far away and probably one of a kind. She had really chunky jewelry that I was envious of, and she had a lot of good information on places in s.e. asia to visit. He was a good source of info for places where backpackers liked to party.
You can imagine where we (3) fit into all this, and that by the end of day one, at the river lodge, mom and I were sitting with the Swiss dudes sharing wine and sticking our noses in the air at the stiff old Brits who otherwise stayed in a completely isolated part of the boat. By the time we got to Laos, we had exchanged emails, phone numbers, and home addresses with nearly all of them, with open house policies instated across the board. Interlaken, anyone?
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Cambodia
I have trouble reconciling my excitement with my guilt. On the one hand, I love being in new places and learning about new cultures, but on the other, it's almost impossible, knowing how fortunate you are for being able to travel to places of such economic and political ruin, to do so with a clean conscience. It's appropriate, then, that I see Siem Reap, Cambodia, as a place in the midst of a severe straddle: between the old, blatantly corrupt land of civil strife -- and the new, secretly (but not well disguised) corrupt land in the process of building up tourism.
It was dark when we landed in Siem Reap. Pang, our driver who is cartoonish in his enthusiasm and frequently laughs backward, told us it means "Thai defeated." He says everything with a smile and anticipation for a reaction, followed by another smile. Having just researched the history of the Khmer Rouge the night before (call me naive, but I had no idea), I am skeptical of this place. It was only thirty years ago, and it was bloody. Not to mention the current PM muscled his way in, and is an ex- Khmer Rouge guerrilla. The main strip (only strip?) consists of hotels and casinos, lit with cheap lights and flimsy flash, effectively distracting you from the side streets where most the locals live in poverty. Even in the dark, the carts selling food and trinkets clearly aren't the same as in other towns we've visited: they are run down, over stuffed with poor quality, and surrounded not with patrons but with kids selling more junk, and they all look hungry.
I observed, somewhat stupidly and aloud, that it's kinda like Back to the Future 2. Nobody argued. I think Biff would have gotten along with Pol Pot.
Hotel, hotel, hotel, casino, hotel/casino... built on Killing Fields. Pang tells us that the owner of one hotel is friends with the current PM. This is nothing like my beloved Laos. I wish Marty McFly were here.
Day 2: Temples. Angkor Thom, Ta Prohm, and Angkor Wat. The first two are beautiful, absolutely, but Angkor Wat is severely under maintained and in dire need of restoration. The other two will be too, I have a feeling, because there was absolutely no limits to what you could climb on, touch, take with you... plus only 10% of your entrance fee goes back into the temples, if at all -- they openly tell you the percentage, which leads me to believe it's even less.
The country does a nice job of assisting you in escapism: they have plenty of sights and shops and things to do, and look over here at this neat temple, and here are some things to keep you from thinking about the mass exodus that occurred not so long ago. It's just that I don't buy what the government is selling. Compared to the Laotians, who also were subjected to hardships during and after the Vietnam war, and even directly at the hands of the USA, the Cambodians just seem hardened. USA bombed little Laos more than anywhere else during Vietnam or World War II per capita, and 30% of bombs dropped remain unexploded in many regions of the countryside that are populated by hill tribes. But here much of the war was within. Laos could unify against the outside. As a result, I think, the people in Laos are so gentle, lovely, and easy going. The people here have been nothing but nice, but I just can't seem to get past the vibes here. Maybe it's spiritual, maybe I'm reading too deeply between the lines. I know absolutely it's unfair to compare Luang Prabang city to Siem Reap, or to let one city represent an entire country, but these two are all I have to go by, and by golly it's my blog and I'll compare if I want to.
Anyway. The place we are staying has a vibe all it's own, largely due to various community outreach programs the hotel funds and operates. It helps keep people off the streets by providing opportunities for education, then going a step further to employ many of the graduates. Begging is a huge problem, and tourists actually contribute and enable almost wholly, albeit unknowingly. Often times tourists will bring candy for the local children, with the best of intentions at heart. But when the children don't eat a balanced diet, or brush their teeth, or have regular doctors, it's extremely unhealthy. Seems obvious, I know... But it's not uncommon for children by the time they reach 6 or 7 to have lost all their baby teeth before they fall out naturally, from all the sugar they consume.
ALLRIGHT. I realize I went on a little rant there. It's tough though, not to get caught in this web of "where do I fit in?" You see the differences, separate the menial from the manageable, try to filter it into comprehension, but you never stop feeling like "your halo's pinching," as I liked to hear Connie say. Who am I to preach? I guess this is where the "it's my blog and I can rant if I want to" comes in, but even that emotion seems confusing. I *get* to sit here at a computer and talk about it. But what does that do? What am I even discussing that hasn't been said before?
Tomorrow I hit the market and try to ignore the signs of the Khmer, both hidden and blatant. Because I haven't reconciled with myself, I'll revert to habit. Cog in the machine, kind of thing. Will try to post more often, but it's been difficult -- by the time I feel comfortable enough to make observations, it's time to move on. It's like mom says Kesey used to say, that the hardest part about writing is the not living while you're doing the writing. Living in the past instead of making more memories to write about. I'll figure it out. But until then, enjoy the stocked up, only now published post below from the past.
It was dark when we landed in Siem Reap. Pang, our driver who is cartoonish in his enthusiasm and frequently laughs backward, told us it means "Thai defeated." He says everything with a smile and anticipation for a reaction, followed by another smile. Having just researched the history of the Khmer Rouge the night before (call me naive, but I had no idea), I am skeptical of this place. It was only thirty years ago, and it was bloody. Not to mention the current PM muscled his way in, and is an ex- Khmer Rouge guerrilla. The main strip (only strip?) consists of hotels and casinos, lit with cheap lights and flimsy flash, effectively distracting you from the side streets where most the locals live in poverty. Even in the dark, the carts selling food and trinkets clearly aren't the same as in other towns we've visited: they are run down, over stuffed with poor quality, and surrounded not with patrons but with kids selling more junk, and they all look hungry.
I observed, somewhat stupidly and aloud, that it's kinda like Back to the Future 2. Nobody argued. I think Biff would have gotten along with Pol Pot.
Hotel, hotel, hotel, casino, hotel/casino... built on Killing Fields. Pang tells us that the owner of one hotel is friends with the current PM. This is nothing like my beloved Laos. I wish Marty McFly were here.
Day 2: Temples. Angkor Thom, Ta Prohm, and Angkor Wat. The first two are beautiful, absolutely, but Angkor Wat is severely under maintained and in dire need of restoration. The other two will be too, I have a feeling, because there was absolutely no limits to what you could climb on, touch, take with you... plus only 10% of your entrance fee goes back into the temples, if at all -- they openly tell you the percentage, which leads me to believe it's even less.
The country does a nice job of assisting you in escapism: they have plenty of sights and shops and things to do, and look over here at this neat temple, and here are some things to keep you from thinking about the mass exodus that occurred not so long ago. It's just that I don't buy what the government is selling. Compared to the Laotians, who also were subjected to hardships during and after the Vietnam war, and even directly at the hands of the USA, the Cambodians just seem hardened. USA bombed little Laos more than anywhere else during Vietnam or World War II per capita, and 30% of bombs dropped remain unexploded in many regions of the countryside that are populated by hill tribes. But here much of the war was within. Laos could unify against the outside. As a result, I think, the people in Laos are so gentle, lovely, and easy going. The people here have been nothing but nice, but I just can't seem to get past the vibes here. Maybe it's spiritual, maybe I'm reading too deeply between the lines. I know absolutely it's unfair to compare Luang Prabang city to Siem Reap, or to let one city represent an entire country, but these two are all I have to go by, and by golly it's my blog and I'll compare if I want to.
Anyway. The place we are staying has a vibe all it's own, largely due to various community outreach programs the hotel funds and operates. It helps keep people off the streets by providing opportunities for education, then going a step further to employ many of the graduates. Begging is a huge problem, and tourists actually contribute and enable almost wholly, albeit unknowingly. Often times tourists will bring candy for the local children, with the best of intentions at heart. But when the children don't eat a balanced diet, or brush their teeth, or have regular doctors, it's extremely unhealthy. Seems obvious, I know... But it's not uncommon for children by the time they reach 6 or 7 to have lost all their baby teeth before they fall out naturally, from all the sugar they consume.
ALLRIGHT. I realize I went on a little rant there. It's tough though, not to get caught in this web of "where do I fit in?" You see the differences, separate the menial from the manageable, try to filter it into comprehension, but you never stop feeling like "your halo's pinching," as I liked to hear Connie say. Who am I to preach? I guess this is where the "it's my blog and I can rant if I want to" comes in, but even that emotion seems confusing. I *get* to sit here at a computer and talk about it. But what does that do? What am I even discussing that hasn't been said before?
Tomorrow I hit the market and try to ignore the signs of the Khmer, both hidden and blatant. Because I haven't reconciled with myself, I'll revert to habit. Cog in the machine, kind of thing. Will try to post more often, but it's been difficult -- by the time I feel comfortable enough to make observations, it's time to move on. It's like mom says Kesey used to say, that the hardest part about writing is the not living while you're doing the writing. Living in the past instead of making more memories to write about. I'll figure it out. But until then, enjoy the stocked up, only now published post below from the past.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Kuang Si - Waterfall
It is difficult to find fresh words to describe something that has existed long before there were eyes to witness, but if it can repeatedly disturb dormant emotions, then it's worth a try.
Walking upstream throughout the forest is absolutely necessary. In doing so, it dutifully works you up: bit by bit, teasing you with small trickles that will grow into little falls. The pools get prettier as the sound gets louder. Winding up the muddy paths, you take great care to step over roots, puddles, and vegetation. You pause for pictures. You look around, to absorb your surroundings. With every turn, more depth is revealed behind the blankets of thick brush. Layers upon layers of feral flora and fauna. You're continually surprised, this next landing could not possibly be prettier than the last, but here they are: bigger lagoons, bluer waters, louder falls. You rest. Leisurely indulge in a dip. With every step, as you wade in, you become awakened by the clean water. You expect it to be cold but it's only crisp. It's pure, here. The falling water causes currents and they're strong, but playful as you embrace them. You become comfortable. Once you're dry, you feel centered.
You move forward. The sound is louder, the turns are teasing now because right when you think you've reached there, you haven't. It is still getting better with every surge, you feel progress, you've moved forward, but it's less rewarding, you just want to be at the top already, the sound coaxing you to come hither, you're almost there. You realize your pace has quickened, and you find you're nearly running through the final stretch throughout the thick vines and leaves and around the trees, you hop over creeks instead of crossing the bridges because you can hear the pounding force of God's green earth under duress, Newtons 3rd law in effect, creating the sound that absorbs you to the point of asphyxiation, you want to be right there, and the turns and plants seem less alluring because it's only a side to the main event, it's not as important because you've seen it a hundred times already and who really cares about another tree or plant or whatever, until up ahead you catch a glimpse of what you've come to see, and when you finally get there, oh, my, God. The final pay off. It's a heart stopping invigoration, thrust upon you, and you're nearly knocked over by the sheer force of it's size -- the casual spilling over as though on a whim, the power of free falling water completely suspended, touching nothing but itself for one-one thousand, two-two thousand, three-three thousand...the tiers of surrounding life that is overripe, dripping wet and thriving, heavy under it's own, you don't even matter because even if you wanted to you couldn't do anything of consequence, here you can't even say so because being drowned out by this pure power is part of the deal, your sacrifice for being allowed to witness the dynamic state of perpetual unfolding, you're a little fleck of nothing, you run around the base trying to capture it's essence, take something with you, you don't want to let go of this magnificence, but it's futile. It is so much bigger than you. You realize that water always has, and always will continue to fall, and it does so entirely independent of your existence. It is then you are able to be electrified by something, in a way that you will never fully understand.
You move forward. The sound is louder, the turns are teasing now because right when you think you've reached there, you haven't. It is still getting better with every surge, you feel progress, you've moved forward, but it's less rewarding, you just want to be at the top already, the sound coaxing you to come hither, you're almost there. You realize your pace has quickened, and you find you're nearly running through the final stretch throughout the thick vines and leaves and around the trees, you hop over creeks instead of crossing the bridges because you can hear the pounding force of God's green earth under duress, Newtons 3rd law in effect, creating the sound that absorbs you to the point of asphyxiation, you want to be right there, and the turns and plants seem less alluring because it's only a side to the main event, it's not as important because you've seen it a hundred times already and who really cares about another tree or plant or whatever, until up ahead you catch a glimpse of what you've come to see, and when you finally get there, oh, my, God. The final pay off. It's a heart stopping invigoration, thrust upon you, and you're nearly knocked over by the sheer force of it's size -- the casual spilling over as though on a whim, the power of free falling water completely suspended, touching nothing but itself for one-one thousand, two-two thousand, three-three thousand...the tiers of surrounding life that is overripe, dripping wet and thriving, heavy under it's own, you don't even matter because even if you wanted to you couldn't do anything of consequence, here you can't even say so because being drowned out by this pure power is part of the deal, your sacrifice for being allowed to witness the dynamic state of perpetual unfolding, you're a little fleck of nothing, you run around the base trying to capture it's essence, take something with you, you don't want to let go of this magnificence, but it's futile. It is so much bigger than you. You realize that water always has, and always will continue to fall, and it does so entirely independent of your existence. It is then you are able to be electrified by something, in a way that you will never fully understand.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
I went to Chiang Rai, and all I got ... was attacked by a monkey.
When I last wrote, we were leaving Chiang Mai by car, and headed to Chiang Rai, which is north a few hours, closer to the border of Myanmar. Unfortunately I can't upload pictures here at this internet cafe, so you will just have to let me try to describe the experience, and I can load pictures later. It'll be kinda like reading the book, and seeing the movie after the fact, hopefully your imaginations will sustain you til then.
Our first (and only) full day in Chiang Rai was to be spent driving to the Golden Triangle, and making stops along the way. The golden triangle is a spot that looks over the Mekong River, from where Thailand, Myanmar, Laos, and China can all be seen. SNOOZE ALERT! I mean, it's cool and all, but it takes a whole day and we had planned on stopping at more wats to make the trip more interesting. "We" as in Mom, and "planned" as in hell no give me that Lonely Planet. I saw immediately something way cooler and what would make the trip to the Four Corners equivalent worth while: CAVES. Awesome, I think. This will be cool: Stalagmites and stalactites, underground lakes and crystals, and, let's face it: Manbearpig central. I point it out to the driver, who, with a wince and alternate suggestion, would change my life as I know it. "No good, rain make no drive. Monkey cave is better, I show you." Little did I know, who would show whom.
The drive through the mountains was incredible, the northern parts of Thailand are so green and tropical, not much unlike Hawaii. The humidity, the random rains, the incredible variations of green, the low fog that looks like mold on the crevices of far off tree covered mountains, endless rice fields and banana trees (plants? I'm too lazy and it's costing me kip to write this so I'm not going to fact check this one)... it really is a beautiful country. Then the urban aspects of Thailand remind me much of Mexico: the cars, 8 people in the back of pick up trucks or just as many on one motor bike, the buildings and carts selling food in the streets. Thailand has many more reminders, though, of their culture and government. You'll be driving down the road and all of a sudden there will be a huge billboard of their King. Or, several km down the same road, there will be a big sparkly red and gold ornamented gate, that looks more Chinese than Thai.
Anyway. It was one of these random towns where we finally stopped, we were let out to walk across this 2 plank, rickety makeshift bridge that was placed more than built, because the mud from the rain was so eroded that there was no more bridge to drive across. It was only a km or two down to the cave anyway, so we walked. The people were going about their merry business, and as has been consistent throughout our travels, they were extremely friendly but indifferent enough so that it didn't seem superficial. They pointed us in the direction of the cliffs, where the monkeys were. Sure enough, at the end of the road, there was a wooden cut out in the shape of a monkey, with a big stick figure smiley face painted on. This is where I made my mistake, my guard was down because of this false advertising. Smiling monkeys! Wow we must be in luck, I thought as I walked toward the big lake, where I saw other locals.
I was so not prepared for this many monkeys. They were everywhere: in the trees. On the roof of the public bathroom. On the ground running by my feet. On the bridge by the monks who brought school children there to see the Koi and monkeys up close. The locals were selling buckets of bananas and peanuts for people to hand to the monkeys themselves. Sarah bought two buckets and went to the task of distributing to those most worthy, after long discussions and instructions to those that gathered 'round her. I started snapping away. Then I noticed the locals had slingshots, and long pole vaulting bamboo sticks... but why? How dare they try to abuse these poor little innocents, who just wanted to come smile at the curious. I have my iphone (yes, I still have it), so I kneel down to get up close and personal. The sweetest monkey comes shyly up to me and even reaches his hand out to touch my bag (I know, aaaaawwwwwww). Then, like a bat out of hell, this guy selling bananas and koi food grabs his bamboo stick and runs at my monkey with aspirations of impalement. My little friend runs away screaming, and I stand up frustrated that I only got a profile shot. I look over at Sarah who is surrounded, talking with her monkey entourage, while they greedily grab her bananas. It's monkeypalooza over there. I decide to get away from these trigger happy Thai and go a little closer to where some cars are parked, near the trees and away from the koi lake and mountainside.
That's where I see him: huddled in the back of a pick up truck. I walk over to the other side and aim my camera. He isn't distracted by his new audience, so I do what you're supposed to do. "Hey, you monkey!" I suggest. "Look over here. Hey!" Nothing. Kiss kiss, click click. Let me tell you, if you ever want to get a monkey's attention, hit something hollow and made from tin or metal, like the back of a pick up truck. In one swift movement, the stupid jerk turns and one-two steps to slam dunk my head with his fangs bared and a taste for blood in his eyes.
Now, this is where my spider senses, cat like reflexes and overall grasshopper agility kicked in: I serenely focused on my assailant, crouched down and leaped to karate chop that monkey fucker right down the middle. At which point, the evil spell he had on the other monkeys was instantly broken, and everyone cheered because I saved the day. Eyewitness accounts might suggest I simply flinched, squealed, and ran away in hysterical laughter for fear of bursting into tears, but they don't speak a word of english so you won't be hearing any eyewitness accounts.
We did hike to the cave, 200 meters up and literally the steepest stairs I've ever climbed. Worse than the bell tower in Sienna, worse than the most difficult in Cinque Terre. No Joke. But it was worth it, it was like Indiana Jones up there, exposed tree roots and winding paths into the dark dark cave with bats inside. The rest of the day was spent pulling the "leave me alone I was attacked by a monkey" card. The Golden Triangle, in all fairness to the event coordinator aka momma Jean, was actually kinda cool. Plus we got to drink from a coconut, which was appropriately and symbolically tribal. We got to go to the border of Myanmar (much like the border towns in Mexico), and buy a whole bunch of stuff that was later shipped home. I think nearly every town we've stopped in, mom sent home a box :) ok ok exaggeration, but barely. So don't be surprised if you get something Asian for Christmas!
I'll have to save the river trip for another post, because it's time to go. It was fun, over all. Met some cool people, talked some politics. Luang Prabang is so small we have already run into most of them and we just got here last night. Mom and Connie and I met some of our river cruise companions and watched the CNN polls come in while eating breakfast at a place downtown, and as it got closer to lunch and closer to conclusion time, the place was pretty full. Once it was announced Obama won, everyone -- an old Chinese couple, a table of Aussie backpackers, the Laotian workers, and many more -- in unison all cheered and clapped for America's choice in the President elect. I even spilled a little water from my eyeballs. I know, I'm cheesy, but I was proud.
Our first (and only) full day in Chiang Rai was to be spent driving to the Golden Triangle, and making stops along the way. The golden triangle is a spot that looks over the Mekong River, from where Thailand, Myanmar, Laos, and China can all be seen. SNOOZE ALERT! I mean, it's cool and all, but it takes a whole day and we had planned on stopping at more wats to make the trip more interesting. "We" as in Mom, and "planned" as in hell no give me that Lonely Planet. I saw immediately something way cooler and what would make the trip to the Four Corners equivalent worth while: CAVES. Awesome, I think. This will be cool: Stalagmites and stalactites, underground lakes and crystals, and, let's face it: Manbearpig central. I point it out to the driver, who, with a wince and alternate suggestion, would change my life as I know it. "No good, rain make no drive. Monkey cave is better, I show you." Little did I know, who would show whom.
The drive through the mountains was incredible, the northern parts of Thailand are so green and tropical, not much unlike Hawaii. The humidity, the random rains, the incredible variations of green, the low fog that looks like mold on the crevices of far off tree covered mountains, endless rice fields and banana trees (plants? I'm too lazy and it's costing me kip to write this so I'm not going to fact check this one)... it really is a beautiful country. Then the urban aspects of Thailand remind me much of Mexico: the cars, 8 people in the back of pick up trucks or just as many on one motor bike, the buildings and carts selling food in the streets. Thailand has many more reminders, though, of their culture and government. You'll be driving down the road and all of a sudden there will be a huge billboard of their King. Or, several km down the same road, there will be a big sparkly red and gold ornamented gate, that looks more Chinese than Thai.
Anyway. It was one of these random towns where we finally stopped, we were let out to walk across this 2 plank, rickety makeshift bridge that was placed more than built, because the mud from the rain was so eroded that there was no more bridge to drive across. It was only a km or two down to the cave anyway, so we walked. The people were going about their merry business, and as has been consistent throughout our travels, they were extremely friendly but indifferent enough so that it didn't seem superficial. They pointed us in the direction of the cliffs, where the monkeys were. Sure enough, at the end of the road, there was a wooden cut out in the shape of a monkey, with a big stick figure smiley face painted on. This is where I made my mistake, my guard was down because of this false advertising. Smiling monkeys! Wow we must be in luck, I thought as I walked toward the big lake, where I saw other locals.
I was so not prepared for this many monkeys. They were everywhere: in the trees. On the roof of the public bathroom. On the ground running by my feet. On the bridge by the monks who brought school children there to see the Koi and monkeys up close. The locals were selling buckets of bananas and peanuts for people to hand to the monkeys themselves. Sarah bought two buckets and went to the task of distributing to those most worthy, after long discussions and instructions to those that gathered 'round her. I started snapping away. Then I noticed the locals had slingshots, and long pole vaulting bamboo sticks... but why? How dare they try to abuse these poor little innocents, who just wanted to come smile at the curious. I have my iphone (yes, I still have it), so I kneel down to get up close and personal. The sweetest monkey comes shyly up to me and even reaches his hand out to touch my bag (I know, aaaaawwwwwww). Then, like a bat out of hell, this guy selling bananas and koi food grabs his bamboo stick and runs at my monkey with aspirations of impalement. My little friend runs away screaming, and I stand up frustrated that I only got a profile shot. I look over at Sarah who is surrounded, talking with her monkey entourage, while they greedily grab her bananas. It's monkeypalooza over there. I decide to get away from these trigger happy Thai and go a little closer to where some cars are parked, near the trees and away from the koi lake and mountainside.
That's where I see him: huddled in the back of a pick up truck. I walk over to the other side and aim my camera. He isn't distracted by his new audience, so I do what you're supposed to do. "Hey, you monkey!" I suggest. "Look over here. Hey!" Nothing. Kiss kiss, click click. Let me tell you, if you ever want to get a monkey's attention, hit something hollow and made from tin or metal, like the back of a pick up truck. In one swift movement, the stupid jerk turns and one-two steps to slam dunk my head with his fangs bared and a taste for blood in his eyes.
Now, this is where my spider senses, cat like reflexes and overall grasshopper agility kicked in: I serenely focused on my assailant, crouched down and leaped to karate chop that monkey fucker right down the middle. At which point, the evil spell he had on the other monkeys was instantly broken, and everyone cheered because I saved the day. Eyewitness accounts might suggest I simply flinched, squealed, and ran away in hysterical laughter for fear of bursting into tears, but they don't speak a word of english so you won't be hearing any eyewitness accounts.
We did hike to the cave, 200 meters up and literally the steepest stairs I've ever climbed. Worse than the bell tower in Sienna, worse than the most difficult in Cinque Terre. No Joke. But it was worth it, it was like Indiana Jones up there, exposed tree roots and winding paths into the dark dark cave with bats inside. The rest of the day was spent pulling the "leave me alone I was attacked by a monkey" card. The Golden Triangle, in all fairness to the event coordinator aka momma Jean, was actually kinda cool. Plus we got to drink from a coconut, which was appropriately and symbolically tribal. We got to go to the border of Myanmar (much like the border towns in Mexico), and buy a whole bunch of stuff that was later shipped home. I think nearly every town we've stopped in, mom sent home a box :) ok ok exaggeration, but barely. So don't be surprised if you get something Asian for Christmas!
I'll have to save the river trip for another post, because it's time to go. It was fun, over all. Met some cool people, talked some politics. Luang Prabang is so small we have already run into most of them and we just got here last night. Mom and Connie and I met some of our river cruise companions and watched the CNN polls come in while eating breakfast at a place downtown, and as it got closer to lunch and closer to conclusion time, the place was pretty full. Once it was announced Obama won, everyone -- an old Chinese couple, a table of Aussie backpackers, the Laotian workers, and many more -- in unison all cheered and clapped for America's choice in the President elect. I even spilled a little water from my eyeballs. I know, I'm cheesy, but I was proud.
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