That was good. What do you want for supper?

Eating in Thailand: 

Kevin

It's hard not to talk a lot about food when chronicling a trip here since the Thai people and their visitors spend so much time eating and eating with great intensity out in public. The French do this too but you don't really see them actually swallowing any food..they just jabber and smoke  in each others' faces while the food cools between them.

The Thai people eat with great concentration and little conversation, and not because they  or not sociable or use chopsticks. It's just that the food is so delicious. 

The standard utensils are a fork and big spoon. The fork is used to fill the spoon with the a specific amount of rice, vegetables and/or meat, and topping. The perfect mouthful is then shoveled into the mouth. Then on to the next succulent morsel. Why chat when you can work on constructing the next delicious biteful? What is there to talk about? How many times can you intone , "This is so fucking good" or ask "Are you going to finish that?" Just shut up and eat.

It's, of course, a cliche to observe that what these people are eating is the most delicious national cuisine in the world. I am not going out on a limb in saying it might be impossible to find a bad meal anywhere here--outside of ,yes, McDonald's--whether it is prepared by a woman squatting on a curb or by a chef in starched whites in an elegant restaurant. Damn, even those Lay's chips taste better than ours.   In Chiang Mai, Bangkok, Ayutthaya,  we ate a meals prepared on a primitive mountain top, in a fast food restaurant, in a Chinese banquet hall, in a mall food court, and in an swank hotel restaurant. In truth the only difference was in the decor, the  price, and the willingness to risk dysentery.   Each dish we downed was delicious and distinctive. There is no one way to make Pad Thai but all versions taste great. 

 What seems to make the food so special is the availability of ingredients and the interest in creating dishes that layer flavors onto them.   Familiar items   like chicken, eggs, pork just taste better here and are the case of fruit, the variety and level ripeness is simply unavailable elsewhere. It's so interesting to watch school kids slurping down dishes of noodles with blood sausage and bok choy, food it would take the jaws of life to get an American kid to consider eating. What's also interesting is that in a culture where everyone seems to be eating all day,  there are very few fat people...except for us tourists. 

Es

Getting from one place to the other

Small Annoyances While Traveling 

Kevin

Not much to relate travel- wise as we clump our way on the special express train from Chiang Mai to Sukkothai , capital city of an ancient regime. I don't know why it's labeled express since we are stopping at we keep stopping at myriad little towns separated by miles of nothing but exotic foliage. The route is a broad arc that results in our moving away from our destination instead of heading directly at it for a great deal of the trip. That, and the fact that the train can't go over  thirty and  chugs painfully when confronted with a grade adds some time to the journey. 

However, what's special about the train is the fierce strength of the air conditioning . Fruit is imported to the USA from New Zealand with less refrigeration than we are being subjected to. Kate, Nell, and Iris have taken to emptying their luggage (and mine) to layer on clothing that is neither clean nor color-coordinated.

Since this is a six- hour trip, a lot of our time is devoted to planning for and putting off our trips to the tiny bathrooms located at the end of the car. These incredibly tiny "conveniences"(NOT) require much dexterity to since you must open the door, enter the one and a half foot square cabinet and close the door while you avoid either stepping in the hole or being splashed as the train maneuvers around a corner. Exciting news on two fronts: Nell has just returned from such an expedition with e discovery that the toilet on the left has a seat! Kate rushes off and learns  something important too...the contents of the toilet simply flush through the floor onto the tracks.  This fact might account for the fact that the windows are so dirty we can't tell whether the sun is out but I don't want to know if that might be true.

Both these concerns would seem petty considering the beauty of the Thai countryside outside the windows. They also pale in comparison to the lack of comfort one experiences when forced to cram into a local bus for the final leg of the journey. None of these working Thais seemed happy to include tourists with luggage on their hot and crowded trip home from work but like most Thai people,  they were too polite to express their discomfort with the eye rolling or nose snorting we resort to when we confront the inevitable annoyances of travel like making room for the luggage on a local bus or dealing withnJapanese tourists taking pictures of each other taking pictures of each other in front of historical ruins we want to take a picture of.

The Elephant Rescue

The Elephant Rescue

Nell

After hearing various tidbits about a supposed elephant rescue outside Chaing Mai, we sniffed out the Elephant Nature Park.  For those of you familiar with Blue Star (the draft horse rescue Justin and I used to work on), you too would have been stuck with the eerie similarities between the plight of the work horse and the work elephant, and the two organizations commitment to helping them.  

Promptly at 8 am we were picked up at our hotel by a van filled with other tourists from around the city-all destined for the elephants.  An hour and a half and a short documentary later, we arrived: the Canadian woman, traveling alone, the British couple, clearly a tad out of their element, the long distance relationship, mom's new friend Debbie and her husband whose name has been lost, and our tiny thai guide whose name was unpronounceable.  

When we pulled in, it looked more like we'd arrived on the safari.  Elephants wandering about in the distance, water buffalo picking at the dry grass, a thatched building filled mostly with fruit, a watering hole that separated the grassland from the mountains beyond.  Our itinerary for the day began with morning feeding.  Us tourists have a little "sky walk" at which the elephants line up to eat, piece by piece, large quantities of fruit from our hands.  You wouldn't believe how dexterous their trunks are, picking up a single banana and carefully placing it into their doughy mouths.  It's impossible not to love them.  Their saggy, tough skin, the way they seem to paddle along on their loaf like feet, the joy they take in a good scratch.  After morning feeding with headed down as a group to ground level to meet the elephants and have a wander.  One elephant that won everyone's heart had been tied up and forced to accept the advances of a bull elephant she wasn't interested in--resulting in a broken hip and quite the gait post-healing.  Her best friend has cataracts and they never leave each others side.  

After a truly outstanding buffet lunch, it was time to head to the river to throw buckets of water at the elephants.  While hokey on the whole, all our silly little tasks were really fun.  Have YOU ever bathed an elephant? One gal loves to lay down in the deepest part of the river, resting her head on the bottom and using the trunk as a snorkel. Clever.

The trip to the park was a welcome retreat from city.  With the fresh air, beautiful landscape and endearing (let alone exotic) residents, it really was a treat.   

"Is slant like this..."

"Is slant like this..."Three versions of one event.

Kevin:

I don' t know about you, but when forced to converse with  people  whose English is weak, I have a tendency to nod stupidly in agreement even when I haven't a clue what they are saying. Sometimes I'm just too lazy to decipher.  It's the flip side of shouting at them to make them understand what I'm saying. Instead of finding the perfect phrasing to be understood, I bellow, thinking that the decimal level will force comprehension.  

So...when Atta our guide asked us which route we wanted to take up the mountain I really didn't understand that that two village route was much harder and longer than the other route which went straight to the town where we would stay.  I shouted " two towns "'really loudly, thinking we'd  be getting more for our money and apparently not understanding the part about it being much longer and steeper.  Anyway, Nellie voted for the "two town" option too and so I figured she knew what he was talking about. Therefore what ensued was partially her fault. After all, he warned us it was "slant like this."(visualize hand in karate position. 


Before I describe the physical agony of the upward climb, I should mention that the walk, climb, trek... whatever...was too beautiful for words. At times it seemed almost heavenly..the air clean and sweet smelling, the views hazy and spectacular, the vegetation strange and lush.  Atta grew up in a hill town and had lots to say about life in a town you have to climb through the woods to get through.  Speaking for myself, I wouldn't have missed this for anything. It was like waking and finding oneself in a Kurosawa film only you understand the words.


However the trail was steeper than we had been led to believe and lots of the hard clay soil was terraced into tall steps up the hillside.  A lot of the time we were using our hands as well as our feet because most of the way to the first town was straight up. Soon we were panting and sweating and straining leg  muscles that had long ago assumed we would never call upon them again.  Atta barely broke a sweat  and chattered frequently and often interestingly about everyday life up here where people grow crops in fields that, with the subtraction of a few degrees, could be called cliffs.


Once we dragged our sorry asses into the first town, the hardest part was over. The town, like most of this country was incredibly backward....and yet, I spotted solar panels and satellite dishes screwed to the sides of shacks.  Babies, pigs,dogs and residents roamed around and only occasionally noticed our presence (see below)


Of course there was also a store in the center of town. No matter how isolated and lonely a place is here, there is always a run down corner shop in front of and often comprising part of someone's house. I mean in a town of ten families, where baby pigs are running free and chickens are everywhere,  you can still buy a bag of Lays potato chips often in exotic flavors  like "Nori Seaweed" or (I swear to god) "Curry Crab."  Many people do, as evidenced by the drifts of litter that fill the sides of dusty roads. (The plastic bag will prove to be the downfall of Southeast Asia if the smog or road carnage don't get it first.)



The minute one walks out of the woods in one of these towns the people start pulling out there wares to hawk..."Lookee... Lookee!" Some of the trinkets are clearly  made in China..but others are sewn goods in the hill people style. We have developed a thicker skin about buying the stuff but left a few baht behind in these towns. How many carved elephants can you fit in a small day bag?


The rest of the trip to the outpost  was a more moderate up and down trail between the two towns...a second wind was enjoyed by all as the trail flattened and widened. We walked through mountain fields as the sun waned, the air cooled  and the views became a darker mixture of green and gold. Lovely. 


Finally, the lodge loomed above us, a shaky perch made almost totally from bamboo. It creaked and swayed a bit when anyone walked and the thin bamboo  lattice floor strained under our western weight. A wide veranda faced east  and behind it our rooms, elegant and rudimentary--futons and mosquito nets. We sat on pillows on the deck, enjoyed the sunset (each with our own bags of chips) and the moonrise and then ate a five course meal Atta cooked  without appliances and modern utensils by candlelight sitting on the floor. 


Sleep came easy in the colder mountain air, and we woke to the beautiful sunrise and breakfast, a strange  and delicious rice gruel with chicken and carrots left over from last night. We agreed that we could get used to this if they put in an escalator.


Atta lowered the boom after breakfast by admitting that going downhill was harder than the ascent. In a sense he was wrong-- one didn't get out of breath as one descended what was in many places a staircase with giant risers. However one expended greater effort and used different muscles to take each giant step There were times when each of us ended up sliding on our ass.   A good walking stick became essential.


The way down involved a stop at a waterfall where a small women in a hut sold us yet more trinkets and tempted us with a selection of...you guessed it...Lays potato chips.<br />
<br />
Nell-


While the trudge up the mountain tested my legs, I spent most of our journey exhausting myself with the worry that I very well may have killed my dear parents in agreeing to this route.  As fatigue set in, I found myself wondering how exactly I would transport them out of the jungle, should need be.  Short of thumbing a ride on an elephant, dragging them seemed the only feasible solution. With the intelligence I am told elephants posses, I doubt we could have convinced them to walk that trail.  May one learn from their wisdom. 


The lodge, our final destination for the day, was wonderfully rustic.  While I was too distracted trying to win the affections of the village strays, Mom and Dad spent the&nbsp;&nbsp;few hours consumed with worry that they might just fall through the bamboo flooring (these were valid concerns).  To my fathers dismay, the only other guests were a German family: a mother, father, their son and his girlfriend. Having taken the easier route, they beat us to the top by who knows how long (cowards). In a typically German fashion, they had usurped all of the cushions on the porch with a good view of the mountain.  My father and I were forced to enjoy our congratulatory beer in the corner, staring at the son groping his girlfriend as she perused the inevitable display of souvenirs provided by the locals. Giddy that both of my parents had made it up in one piece, my mood could not be spoiled by this act of greed.  My father on the other hand, let me know repeatedly how little he approved of our lodge mates.  My mother, desperate for kinship in her struggles, immediately reached out to the Germans, making friends with the mother who was also too exhausted to move.  At dinner, the Germans took the table and we were forced to eat on the floor (cough), which was okay in the end because it allowed me to share the last bits of Lays Nori Seaweed chips with a pregnant stray cat who wandered in.  I don't this she liked the Germans much either.  


The next morning, Dad took off at a rapid pace down the mountain, determined to keep our lead on the Germans despite a brief hold up at the site of a new school being built by volunteers from the city.  My mother, having refused a walking stick for most of the climb up, was the only one who still had hers the next morning (albeit thanks to me).  Dad, having been the sole advocate for their use initially, had managed to lose his overnight. Filled with resentment for my mothers stick, but knowing we'd be chasing after her tumbling body down the mountain should he take her up on her offer to give him it-Dad chose to very audibly play the martyr and make due with what he could find next to the trail.  It was sort of like Goldie Locks and her legendary chairs, this one's too big, not round, too floppy.  We all suffered.  


Ata, our guide, had rubbed me the wrong way when we first met him.  I found him too eager and eager often strikes me as desperate (I inherited my tolerance from my father).  Yet, in the end, I am grateful for his patience.  We were a motley crew and there was probably more than one occasion that he thought he might have to leave us in the jungle to save himself. If he keeps a journal, his account of our trip would probably give David Sedaris a run for his money. 


Kate:


Due to problems with PTSD,  Kate will not be able to offer her version of these events. We feel her time is better spent relearning how to walk.

Baying dogs and the grinning monkey man

Night of the Baying Street Dogs and the Grinning Monkey Man.

 Our guest house in Chiang Mai is everything you could hope for in a small, inexpensive, old fashioned small hotel--at least that's what we agreed as we sat having beers and tea overlooking the Ping River when we arrived in this smaller, friendlier, less smelly, and certainly less polluted version of Bangkok. Mathematically speaking Chiang Mai is to Bangkok as Boston is to New York. The Galare guest house was a kilometer from the old town , tucked away down a tiny alley. Charming , despite a clientele that appeared to be slight older and Teutonic. Later,we wandered into the old town and knocked about looking at restaurants and two of us, ( not me) buying stuff and planning to come back and buy more stuff when we return to the city after planned adventures into elephant rescues and the hill people outside the city. More on both of those later.

 Our first night at the in started, well, badly when there appeared to be a vicious fight among the numerous street mutts outside the garden walls. Luckily the fight ended and peace finally was declared. The next night began well as we knocked off around 9:30 to rest up for our two days of trekking (hiking to the pretentious and to the manufacturers of nylon clothing devoted to it) in gorgeous mountain region a surrounding the city. At 12 midnight the horror began. The snarling , barking, baying,squealing continued periodically throughout the night...at intervals seemingly planned to allow us almost to fall asleep before ratcheting up the bedlam again. Imagine if the works of Hieronymous Bosch had soundtracks and you come close to what the noise was like.  In desperation I dressed and went down to the office.

God, I wish I hadn't.

 Perched on a stool like a bird, the night manager appeared to be a monkey who spoke no English. It was like trying to reason with one of the Wicked Witch of the West's flying army except that this one didn't speak English and was, well, developmentally disabled. Apparently what he thought I was asking was "Where is this delightful dogfight happening? I'd like to participate." He kept nodding agreement, grinning maniacally and pointing in the direction of the brouhaha. I gave up, lost sleep, and we pledged to find a new place when we returned to the city in three days. Iris saved the day once more with a new inn called the Nice Mom guest house. Sounds homey but I envision cockfights in the yard.

Rubbers...contraceptive and podiatric

Kevin here
Nell has tossed the ball to me to discuss our  last evening. Iris had two other friends to entertain--the women is a saint--and enlisted our help. Bad thinking. The preprandial event went on too long and sure enough Kate and the husband found a bone of contention--something about Saul Allinsky's financial portfolio, if memory serves.  Not really a pissing match, but close.

Next on the agenda was a group field trip for a foot massage,  a visit to the podiatrical rubbers  of the title of this post. Picture a line of six or seven Barcoloungers filled with white Europeans having their feet rubbed, punched, poked with bamboo sticks in the dark  by short Asian women  who are chatting away between themselves.  I closed my eyes and imagined what they were talking about:

"How come I get the fat guy all the time?

"Damn that blonde girl is a giantess"

"The mother is snoring so loud I can't hear the music."

However foolish one feels about having a total stranger tweaking ones toes, I think this foot massage thing has potential in the US market.  How about "McTootsies?" Talk about your happy meal!

Next step in our rubbers-themed evening was dinner at the aforementioned "Cabbages and Condoms ."  This elegant thai restaurant uses condoms as both a decor theme and in the menu. Life sized mannikins were dressed in outfits constructed of prophylactics in varies colors and textures. Instead of after dinner mints you were offered a choice of condoms--republicans post. or democratic. 

Guess which ones were larger.

Currently winging our way north to Chiang Mai in a plane painted as an exotic tropical bird...the cockpit is the beak. In our future, bathing elephants.  

Youth arrives...

Nell's view: At long last, I have arrived in Thailand, no worse for wear.  Having have little to no involvement in the logistic planning of this trip, i'll admit I had no I idea what I was getting into.  Bangkok, sharing absolutely zero qualities with Hardwick, MA, is really something.  I remain quite impressed with my parents.

(Days later.....)

My it has certainly been a struggle to get this first blog post up since my arrival in Thailand three days ago.  Bangkok is not for the faint of heart, and certainly not for those uncomfortable demanding personal space with their elbows.  It seems every square inch of this city is employed for either retail sales or motorists, leaving very little room for the eight million people that reside here.  

Day one, I believe it was Tuesday, we headed to Chinatown- the largest outside of China itself! I'll admit, it wasn't remarkably distinguishable from the rest of the city, beyond the Chinese lanterns hanging above the street (nice touch) but one wasn't left a great deal of time to ponder that, given the stimulus overload.  Street after street of vendors, each tirelessly peddling their knick knacks.  The experience was made more harrowing due to the frequent motorcycles that took the liberty of using the barely four-foot streets as a shortcut through the city.  In combination with the ever creeping booth displays, us shoppers were left very room to be, let alone peruse. I was unable to get a photo for fear of my life.  

Yesterday we went with Iris to see the sites! The Grand Palace and another significant Wat nearby.  One can assume they were thorough  yet efficient visits.  Last night, after a full days touring, we got a foot massage! We were five heading into the pink ladies parlor, lined up in our chairs like pigs to slaughter.  While incredibly relaxing and enjoyable, I was consumed with trying to figure out what our young thai crew were talking about, and more importantly, what was so damn funny.  I sincerely hope that I did not make my masseuse ill with my terribly unkept feet, and am grateful for the service (when was the last time you lotioned your dogs?).  

Then, for a late night dinner, we headed to Cabbages and Condoms.  For this, I feel my father far more capable of describing our experience...

Banging around Bangkok

We're in a slow mode here waiting for Nell to arrive and getting a feel for what it's like to live in such a totally alien environment. We've been trying to preserve Iris's sanity ( David is in China week) by venturing out our own or simply tagging alone enjoying her life here.

Every adventure leads to the same trite observation--this country and these people are a study in contrast.  I am aware of the triteness of that statement.

Last night we walkied  through the backyards of neighborhoods and along the canals ( Bangkok has a series of them and used to be called the Venice of Asia)  to go to a concert by the Bangkok Symphony in Lumphini Park,  the Central Park of the city. We passed luxury towers and tin hovels--side bt side. The gorgeous in places and clogged with trash in others--these people have the same casual disregard on trash that Italians have of graffiti.  They also apparently have no olfactory senses at all. The canals smell like our bathrooms after a week of no power.

The path led to the park which, because it's under royal patronage--the king is a jazz aficionado., is well tended respite from traffic and street hubbub.

The orchestra played a lineup of material that began with the Lone Ranger theme worked through the
Blue Danube and a medley of Henry Mancini tunes. It ended with a few Broadwayv tunes. It was like a combination of Lawrence Welk and American Idol.

Dinner afterwards was in a chicken restaurant that was both delicious and cheap. It also looked like a place I would be afraid of ---and you've seen my kitchen.

Too tired to go the second half of our day of contrast except to say it involved experiencing the amazing shopping malls of Bangkok and thee amazing sight of the pollution in the city from the observation deck of the city's tallest building.

Nell arrived. Seemed sane.

Ayutthaya

Aside from the problems negotiating our way through the unbelievable morass of the Bangkok transportation systems, I should mention the difficulty I have had using the currency.  This is my problem, not theirs.  Actually(take a note crossword lovers) there really is only one unit, the baht..there are 30 baths to a dollar. It should be simple  but I have trouble when the time comes to pay up and a simple division problem becomes calculus. What makes it confusing is that the elaborateness of the different paper for the different denominations does not reflect value and there are coin and paper versions of the same denomination.  I deal with this problem in two ways:

1I tell myself  that the cost of whatever I'm buying is ridiculously low and this is really true most of  the time.. The other night  we had four courses and then dessert at a waterfront restaurant for 25 dollars. We had a similar meal in a less tony establishment the next night. The meal began with the waitress plunking a bottle of Deet  down along with the other condiments. Martha Stewart should try this 

when entertaining alfresco on Seal Island. "It's a good thing."

2. I hand them a 1000 baht and make them give me change (they hate this and mutter what I assume are 

Thai curse words  under their breath.

I suppose I should mention the reason we came to this town--the archeological ruins. This is the site of the earliest civilizations here and the ruins are extensive and beautiful even if you are totally ignorant of all Thai history as we are. (I can't even  remember if Anna marries the king.) 

Most of the sites are  on or surrounding a small island. We rented bikes (50 bahts or 1.70, I think)  and rode around the major ones before getting hopelessly lost and then miraculously found. At one point we found ourselves sharing a lane of traffic with elephants. Wonder if Lance Armstrong ever had to dodge lumps of elephant dung.

Baby Steps

Our visit to Ayutthaya marks our first foray into Thailand without the benevolent guidance of our hosts who had the nerve to return to their own personal lives.

 The first step involved walking several city blocks to a subway stop, buying our very own subway tokens, figuring out what to do with them (it's tricky, honest) and getting to the right subway for the Huamloughan (made up spelling) train station . Sound easy?  Add thousands of people rushing to work, intense heat, transportation services that don't work in correspondence and who view adequate signage as aid to the enemy,  and, of course, senility. Getting the picture?

Actually it is easy to find friendly and helpful locals and we made the train with time to spare.

The local "rapid" train...hmmmm.  Part prop  from old Western and part very flat wooden roller coaster, but slow ,really slow. Ventilation provided by wide open windows and oscillating fans on the ceiling. Toilet facilities ? A hole in the floor. Seats?  Designed by the  De Sade and well used.   Hungry?  Wait a second for a peddler to wander through and wave skewers of meat or styrofoam cups of green curry under your nose. The ticket explains the only rule--no animals. Yeah, as if a chicken or two would make a difference.


Actually clicking and clomping along was really pleasant and once we left Bangkok's rather depressing outskirts, scenic. Even enjoyed a 45 minute breakdown during which time us foreigners looked worried and the locals looked like they expected this.  The amplification system explained the problem in Thai but with so much static and feedback no one could understand what was up and we all began not to care.

The "rapid" train got us the 75 km in three hours and we debarked, leaving behind those poor people who had. 11 more hours to go to Chiang Mai. They had my deepest sympathy but maybe if they had worked harder they could have flown.

The trip cost about 3.50 including the Tuk-Tuk to the guest house.

Cognitive Dissonance in Cambodia

Have to admit I never really thought a lot about Cambodia but our few days here have been an eye opener right from the get go.

 Crossing the border was a trip a little like what I imagine the it was like during the fall of Saigon--hundreds of anxious tourists, farmers with produce, stoned backpackers standing in confused lines while overwhelmed custom officials slowly, ever so slowly, processed the paperwork. The longest lines reserved for the locals and preferred treatment was given to white people. Once one cleared immigration one joined this swirling crowd of people looking for transportation away from the dusty, incredibly hot border town. Total bedlam. Carts, donkeys, aging Toyota Camries, nuns on bicycles, Tuk-Tuks,  surly cops, and of course desperately thin women trying to sell scarves to Japanese tourists in Gucci.

The drives we've taken through the country--Siam Reap is three hours the border--reveal a primitive way of life I have never seen before-(it makes rural Mexico look like Easy Street).

Torn between seeing their simple existence in the most beautiful countryside I have ever seen--a choice between backbreaking labor in the rice paddies, as the way we should all live and recognizing that living in a shanty made of equal parts corrugated tin( these guys are wizards with this building material) palm branches and recycled advertisements for Cambodian Beer is not the world one would want to wish on anyone...well maybe Alan Greenspan. I'd pay  to see him put in a shift in a paddy than climbe the ladder to sleep in his stilt house while his wife cooks up some rice gruel,four feet from a road cluttered with buses, carts, scooters, bikes and inevitably a very forlorn looking dog.

I think I forgot to mention the most interesting aspect of this roadside lifestyle--the family store. Most of these folks living by the road operate a store,selling a few tawdry items under an umbrella or lean -to.They tend to work in packs, You turn a corner and there are four houses in a row selling the same straw hats made in China. Then there will be four stores in a row where a women  is squatting over a makeshift grill browning up beef and chicken on a stick--othersnare also restaurants and others "service stations" selling gas in old Jack Daniels bottles. The weird thing is that you never see any commerce actually happen and the only potential customers are the very same neighbors who are selling the same  product at their house/store next door.

Odd moment when we were passing through the floating village described in the last post. The teenager running the boat, who probably lives in one of the stilt houses without running water or electricity spent the time texting someone on his smartphone as he piloted the boat passed his neighbors while they were catching fish with primitive hand nets, some wearing only Calvin Klein Knit boxers.I, of course, was busy snapping their pictures while sipping bottled water, as if they were a diorama at the Peabody Museum. 

End of post written by the pool after a tiring morning taking a tuk-tuk to watch tthe sun rise over the AnqorWat temple with hordes of the aforementioned Japanese tourist.

A person could get used to this.....

Sitting by the pool at the Cockatoo Guest House listening to the monks chant from the monastery next door. At this moment perfe toy willing to accept the idea of a just god. Weather is unseasonably cool here in Siem Reap which means its just Hot.

Yesterday were did four of the major archeological sites in the 500 acre national heritage sitewith the aid of a Tuk-Tuk driver. It's amazing like the most highbrow theme park you've ever seen. Fascinating look into an advanced civilization that fell and got forgotten-- over grown and buried.  The intersting thing is that people live in the area so you see the present while studying the past. I feel like imknow the culture after one day...why?  Because they live their lives in fullmview approximately five feet from the side of the road. You get to see them cook, clean nap do laundry as you are scootednby on what is essentially a golf cart.

Today a driver took us to one of the major sites not in the park proper. This one was lost and forgotten and is in the condition they found it in fairly recently. They we went to the Floating Village on the biggest lake in southern Asia. They live in houses on stilts thirty of so feet high...seven hundred or so families. No water or electricity, just cute kids and what looks like a really tough life.

Enough of them...here's Kate vacationing

Driving to Cambodia

There is lots to talk about here in our second day in Cambodia, but I can't go into pithy socio,economic,political observations until I talk about their most singular quality--the  way these people drive is insane.  On the first leg of our journey from Bangkok to  Siem Reap our driver introduced us to the concept of multiple and fluid lanes of traffic. Let me explain that everything below happened.

The two lane highway we were traveling on was actually treated like a five lane highway.  There are the lanes for the opposing drivers. The drivers in Thailand drive on the right, their opponents on the left. The third lane straddles the lines in the middle of the road and is used to pass by either of the drivers whenever he or she fucking feels like it. Which is a lot. The other driver pulls into the breakdown lane to allow for three cars to pass in the same spot in two different directions.

However, you should know that the breakdown lanes are utilized by any number of other road users including children on tricycles, motorcyclists, guys with a water buffalo team pulling cut bamboo, a young father, his wife and their infant all sharing the same motor scooter, and -- I am not making this up-- a guy on a motorbike with a live pig strapped around his waist.

All those sharing this road are going as fast  their particular vehicle will allow .  My guy was going around ninety- five while listening to an 80s compilation tape, fielding constant cell calls and sending ims with one hand because his others was busying honking his horn in case the upcoming oil truck hadn't noticed us heading head first at him. Once we had avoided a fiery death crash by two inches he needed something to do so on, he popped in a dvd of Vin Diesal's remake of T he Lost World) with subtitles and settled in for some movie time. 

On both sides of this madhouse were beautiful,bucolic scenes from the lives of  dep green rice paddies, hedges of brilliantly collared bushes, water buffalo grazing under a golden sun and families running road side stores that sell gasoline in Jjack Daniel's bottles and Coke of course,

Kate's View:

I woke up my first morning in Bangkok to the sound of singing blared through a megaphone.  At first I thought I was hearing my first political rally but when I stepped out on our balcony (one of the four balconies overlooking the city from the 16th floor of Iris and David's apartment), I realized that the sound was the elementary school (two-story wooden framed building built around a inner court) children practicing for some major dance recital...I took a picture on my IPAD and will share it as soon as I figure out how to do this.  Enchanting.

We've jumped right into the bustle of the city and a bustle it is.  Think of a combination of New York City and Mexico City but friendlier.  Ended my first night in Bangkok with a foot massage which my poor old feet needed desparately.

Iris, Kevin, and I are off to Angkor Wat tomorrow for three days.  Iris took us to the National Museum of Thailand today where she is a guide.  She almost killed us within three buildings--what will happen with 500 acres of temples and museums????!!  When I told her I was worrying that we may not be able to meet her endurance standards, she told me,  "Oh stop.  You have to get your money's worth."   ugh. oh.

Travel is so enlarging...

First great meal of the trip--the raison d'être of travel for some of us. Unbelievable Thai dinner as Suda, a family-run, open air restaurant a short walk from Iris and David's. Every one of the five dishes we shared  was hot, soothing, spicy, tangy, mellow, all at the same time. People were startled when I licked each bowl clean at the end of the meal. Honest. The decor was just the way I like it, worn vinyl table cloths, pink plastic dishware, and high nicotined ceilings with fans.  The proprietors were four sisters who walked out of an AmyTan novel.

Passing thought on the walk through the crowd afterwards. Why do the people who do the worl's worst job--streetwalking--have to do it in such uncomfortable shoes? Seems a cruel irony.

First day in Bangkok

Day One.

Something tells me we're not in Kansas anymore. My first impression of Bangkok is that it's a combination of The Emerald city, the sets of Los Angelos  in  Blade Runner, and  my memories of  Mexico City, only much hotter. Spent the day trying to learn the lay of the land...which is impossible given the way this giant city sprawls. It has no center,it has centers. The public transportation involves the sky train, a subway, taxis, ferries, Tuk Tuks (large gof carts), motor scooters and your feet--often a combination for one trip. Traffic  makes Rome look like the drive in the country.

Went to Bang Loc, the old section also known  as the Backpackers's section--90% of the teeming crowd is Scandinavian, somewhat stoned, spsorting a spirit patch (if male) and dreads if female)--or vice versa. Actually they  look like they work at the Ceres Bakery . This last crack is for Penny and Emily. The section is like the largest head shop you've ever seen--a tangled web of alleys filled with massage shops, noodle restarants, carved elephants.  Manyof the stores sell the clothing we bought  for  the  trip only really,  really  cheaper.

Immersion course in air travel: 23 hours in the air

I describe extended plane trips as the moving equivalent of a sensory deprivation tank. Iris more correctly describes it as the moving equivalent of a bout of the flu--one just endures it confident one will feel better in the morning.


At any rate, we arrived in Bangkok at midnight, having left at 3:30 am.  We looked a bit the worse for wear, our clothing stained with bits of the innumerable and inedible airline meals. Iris thoughtfully met us at the "meeting point" at the airport. This designated name makes the the airport sound folksy--actually it looks like the set  they always blow up at the end of a James Bond movie.

Was too tired to do more than collapse into bed....



.   

travel is so weird....

Kevin here.

Now that airline users have gotten used to partially disrobing in a line of strangers and sharing a glimpses of  their assorted toiletries and 3.4  ounce  bottles of liquids, the airlines have had to think of new ways to up the weirdness quotient of air travel.The hologram of an Delta employee who repeats  the security policies and procedures certainly will help them achieve their goal. Projected on a life-size silhouette,  a Selma Hayak lookalike looks straight ahead and chants the rules nonstop, one language after another.  The English section is wonderfully  chatty, like a neighbor slumped over the backyard fence as she instructs you with a warm smile to remove all contents,  "even coins" from your pockets. 

Kate`s View:
I fear that Kevin did not start the drug therapy early enough...at least for me.  He has had me up since 2:15am for a bus leaving at 4am--and we are now waiting peacefully at the airport for a flight that leaaves in two hours.  Fortunately, all of this time did not prevent us from forgetting both of our phones and who knows what else.   Who cares--we`re on our way!  Our first well-wishers, as enthusiastic as can be, were Kevin`s new best friends, the ticket people at C & J, who greeted him with  "Wow, this must be the day of your big trip!"  They seemed sad to see him go.

New worries....

Every time I think I'm calming down and beginning to enjoy the anticipation of world travel,  I come up against new travel-associated worries. These moments are often associated with calls from my friend Lisa Grey aka The Travel Voice of Doom who was in Thailand last fall.

Latest issues: 

1.  First Issue: How to deal with the money --which cards will work where and for what purposes? 

Associated Worry--ending up begging behind a wooden bowl on the streets of Bangkok, dressed only in a Gandhi- like loin-cloth. 

2. Second Issue: How to  dial Thai phone numbers which include the symbols for "+" and parentheses? 

Associated worries--enduring disdainful-looks from English -speaking Thai people when I ask them to dial numbers for me or the bewildered looks of non-English speakers who can't imagine why this idiot can't operate a phone.

Three days to go. Is it to early to start the drug therapy? 

kf

Travel is so invigorating.

Countdown to departure (1/9/13 and barely time to post. Too busy worrying about:

 1. Weather. Snowbound in Minneapolis (us) or Detroit (Nell) Tsunami in southern Thailand (all of us.)

 2. House disasters. Power failure. Extreme blizzard. Monitor stove dies. Pipes freeze Tree falls on house. Tree falls on house as House sitter Emily is feeding stove. Emily dies of head injuries and house burns to the ground. Tree falls on electrical line, ripping service off the house. Pipes freeze again . Small plane goes off course, misses the Littlebrook Airport runway and crashes into front porch. Home invasion.

 3. Airline hassles. Late flights. Missed connections. Lost luggage. Stolen luggage. Lost documents and credit cards. Stolen documents and credit cards. Jumbo seatmates. Lack of frequent snacks and half-size Diet Cokes. Unwise book selections which require reading the airline magazine for 13 hours.

 4. Sartorial decisions: Does Kate have the right shoes? Does Nell have enough tiny shorts? Do I look too much like an aging sex tourist (think Michael Caine) in my loose cotton shirt with epaulets? 

5. Health Issues: Malaria, Denge (sp?) fever. Traveler's diarrhea. Avian Flu. Asian Flu. Sunburn. Dehydration. Reaction to prescription drugs.

 We just don't do this enough!