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Bombs, Boats, Monopoly, and Opium Sabai Dii (greetings from Laos), Alright folks, brace yourselves cause it's time for another round of stories and photos. Those of you new to my spam list should be warned that I spew here as it's one of my few outlets untainted by the butcheries of Thenglish. So sit back (in your hammock), relax, grab a Beerlao, and enjoy the photos. http://www.shutterfly.com/osi.jsp?i=67b0de21b3774909059e
We left off with a less than healthy backpacker lingering in Chiang Mai, recovering from the stresses of Pai trekking. A few antibiotics later, I was ready to move on to Laos. In the meantime, I slept, read, watched movies, ate, kicked ass in ping pong, and watched a night of Muay Thai (kickboxing) fights. It was interesting to see little 90 pound Thai kids fighting who could have killed me. There was also one big White guy fighting a kinda-big Thai guy. One of them was a lot faster than the other. Can you guess which one? After the Thai guy pulled a punch, we wondered if he had been instructed to keep the match going all five rounds. I also went to the zoo with the owner of my favorite restaurant/movie center/ping pong den. As a side note, no business can focus on just one thing in Thailand, and almost every restaurant is also a travel agency, internet cafe, bar, and motorcycle rental agency - Sears would be proud. Apparently cleanliness is not a priority at zoos in Thailand, and only one exhibit seemed to be taken care of (we couldn't even see the penguins through the moldy glass). But when the giant pandas did somersaults, I became convinced that pandas are the only things in the world cuter than monkeys. On to Laos... My two weeks in Laos were amazing. I got drunk every night in Vientiane for a week, took the bus to Vang Vieng, and got stoned in an inner tube on the river for the rest of the time. It was great! Actually, none of that's true at all, except that Laos was amazing, and the majority of travelers to Laos did seem to follow that itinerary. I took a bus from Chiang Mai to Chiang Khong, on the border of Thailand and Laos, and stayed at a fairly standard, kinda crappy guesthouse. But in this little town of population 47 or so with only 12 hours of electricity per day, surrounded by steamy jungle, I received an email that changed my life. I had to give up my dreams of relaxing in a California beach town for the next 2 years while attending graduate classes at a mediocre university, as I had now been accepted at Stanford. This was an excellent start to a great journey, and I am now very excited about attending Stanford next year, even if it means being productive (please forgive me, fellow backpackers). Catching a ferry and crossing the border were uneventful, but we got to change baht and dollars to kip, and were thrilled to be instant millionaires! I believe that every normal capitalistic kid wonders "what if Monopoly money was real?" I have now satisfied that fantasy. The slow boat was slow. But it was exciting too, particularly when the operators put too many bags on top, and the wooden beams started cracking. We were very relieved when they wrapped a little piece of string around the beam, and we could pretend to not be worried that the boat was going to fall down on our heads. The remaining eight hours of sitting on a hard wooden seat was a long time, though. The scenery was beautiful, but one can only look at river, jungle, and mountains for so long. We fought off little Laotian kids in Pakbeng who wanted to carry our bags for a dollar, because 10,000 kip sounds like a lot of money. I was more persistent than most, and found a guest house with a non-rock mattress and no rats. The next slow boat was also slow. But at least it had cushions. I sat next to a Japanese tourist who spoke some English and didn't shoot photos of everything, so after four months of traveling I found an exception to the stereotype. See, travel can be eye-opening. The scenery was still beautiful, but nothing, even in a strip club, is beautiful enough for 8 hours of staring. I read about the evils of the American government and corporate machine, and was dragged into the second of three cross-cultural conversations about circumcision. After two days of sitting still and talking about circumcision, we arrived in Luang Prabang. I met the best traveling companions ever, Monk-seducer and Sick-girl (you girls rock!) Luang Prabang was really cool. The 50 people I had just shared an enclosed space with for the last 48 hours spread out over the little town, and I felt like the cool kid who knew everyone in college. The French colonial influence was very visible as almost every building in town was either a restaurant-bakery or bakery-bar. We also saw the incredible Kuang Si waterfall. After an hour bouncing around on a hard-seated pickup truck and inhaling dirt, we hiked up a little hill, and tried to not buy any of the ever-present handicrafts. They were selling really cool bamboo guns though, and I would have taken one over a slingshot any day. At the top, beneath the waterfall, we found a collection of picnic tables with pristine white tablecloths and a fully catered meal - unfortunately it was for the American tourists who were about to arrive on their shock absorbing, air conditioned bus. We looked up, and the multilevel falls were breathtaking - by far the most amazing of any waterfall I've seen in the last 4 months. We swam in the pools, climbed to the top, took lots of photos, and stared for a while. After about 80 photos, I earned the nickname "Japanese tourist". On the way down, we met 2 older American women who were looking for opium. Apparently the omnipresent dealers don't pursue 50 year old women the way they do 23 year old men. I had no such problem, as a persistent Laotian man had tried very hard the previous night to sell me drugs. I had just gotten out of the shower and was partially dressed when he peered in through the window around the curtains. I couldn't figure out what was going on - maybe he was just a perv. Then he knocked on the door, I opened it, and he asked if I wanted anything. A little confused, I thought about asking for hot water or a pina colada but figured it wouldn't do any good. Then he put his fingers to his mouth in the universal sign for "hey man, you wanna get high?" I briefly contemplated starting an export business from Laos to pay off my trip, but told him to go away. A couple days later, we decided to travel to Muang Ngoi, an authentic Laotian town in the middle of nowhere with beautiful views of a river with mountains on the other side. After buying a ticket for an air conditioned bus for the 4 hour journey, we arrived at the bus station, put our bags next to the bus, and waited. Half an hour after the scheduled departure time, our bus driver showed up, told us we had to take a different bus (think pickup truck), and loaded our bags on top. We complained, we begged, we talked to a supervisor, there was nothing we could do - we were in for a long haul. We then waited another hour before the driver felt like leaving. Finally, the mystery was solved, and we knew why the bus had been switched when we stopped just outside the bus station for the driver to pick up a friend and her satellite dish. The ride was hot, crowded, and uncomfortable, but 3 hours later we made it to a small town in the middle of nowhere. Our driver didn't feel like going any further, but at least he arranged for an even smaller and less comfortable tuk-tuk with metal seats and no cushions to take us the rest of the way. We arrived at the almost final destination and negotiated to pay extra to have a boat leave immediately, instead of waiting a couple hours for the next scheduled one. It turns out that in Laos, "immediately" means "a way to get tourists to pay extra, and then wait for all the locals and their poultry to pile on over the next 45 minutes until the boat is completely full and almost sinking." Finally we arrived in the authentic Laos town of Muang Ngoi, and stayed at one of the 30 simple guest houses in town. Wait a minute. Thirty guest houses? Authentic town? Something didn't match up. It turned we were in the right town, it just wasn't what it was cracked up to be. The river view was amazing, but the town wasn't authentic. Signs were in English, children begged for money, and locals charged 2000 kip to enter the jungle. The only sign of authenticity was the dirtiness of all the local adults and children. Nevertheless, we enjoyed sitting around for a day and a half chilling by the river. I came to the conclusion that all the travelers who had raved about how Muang Ngoi was so authentic and great and yada yada were either idiots (possible, but unlikely) or arrogant blowhards who tried to sound cool by talking about how they were better than everyone else because they had gotten further off the tourist track than other travelers, even if it wasn't true. Oh yeah, and we were all food poisoned. Our next destination was Phonsavan, to see the Plain of Jars. There are two routes between Muang Ngoi and Phonsavan, and both take a long time to go around the mountain that separates the two towns. One is to go back to Luang Prabang, spend the night, and take a long bus the next day. The other is to go farther off the beaten track, into the wilds of Laos where no tourists go, where Lonely Planet says the roads are virtually nonexistent and suggests avoiding, and there are no buses. I wanted to go back through Luang Prabang, knowing it would be long and uncomfortable, but at least relatively predictable. However, we were convinced by a fellow traveler to take the other route, and I believe it was a big mistake. Actually, the decision was made when I went to the bathroom and he bullied my companions into it, and I'm still quite irritated about this. The journey sucked, it took 2 full days and 5 buses of varying levels of massive discomfort, a night in a terrible guest house where we were too scared to use the bathrooms because of massive spiders, and lots and lots of sitting around waiting for buses. The one good thing about this journey was that we saw authentic Laos. There were lots of little villages with thatched huts, no paved roads, no machines, and no electricity. There was also no work. Locals just sat around on the side of the road, watching vehicles go by. People lived a pretty squalid life, but it was hard to sympathize because no one was trying to do anything about it. Not once did we see a rural Laotian do an ounce of work. In contrast, rural Thais work hard farming, building, making handicrafts, etc. Actually, it's a little more complicated, as it seems that most (but with notable exceptions) Thai men are quite lazy, and the women do all the work. This is not apparent to many visitors, as many ambitious Thai men come to cities and tourist areas to earn a living, but rural women do all the farming and most of the men just sit around. Actually, from what I've heard but not seen, they seem to keep quite busy beating their wives and visiting brothels. There is another possible reason for Laotians' lack of work ethic. Most of the work that is available is farming. And a lot of the fields, especially in northeast Laos, are full of cluster bombs or mines. So there is considerable risk in farming, and maybe it's better to starve than get blown up. For those that don't know (most Americans don't), the CIA conducted a secret war against Laos in the 1960s and 1970s as part of the effort to stop Communism. Laos is the most heavily bombed country in the history of the world, and when the Vietnam War ended, the planes didn't come home - the bombing in Laos tripled as there were now 3 times as many planes available. I had the opportunity to see several fields full of bomb craters, and it was very eerie. Little vegetation grows in the craters, and they're big. They're in the middle of nowhere, and it's hard to imagine what the planes were trying to hit. I also saw a bunch of cluster bombs, but fortunately they had already exploded. Unfortunately, a lot of them had probably killed innocent Laotian kids who had picked them up and were throwing them around. There are still thousands of unexploded cluster bombs in the unplanted fields of Laos, and apparently 30% of the bombs dropped on Laos did not explode. The limited good news is that cluster bombs are dropped in larger missiles which make excellent building materials and flower pots. And apparently the same quality cluster bombs were used most recently in Kosovo, and are killing innocent children there as well. The problem with traveling while American is that, in addition to the constant political harassment from educated British, it opens up one's eyes to the horrors committed by the American government. I won't go into a diatribe on Bush's atrocities, but it was a lot easier to travel while Clinton (though no saint either) was in power. We also saw the Plain of Jars, Southeast Asia's answer to Stonehenge. Hundreds of large stone jars dot the hillside, and the steamy jungle in the background makes for one hell of a sunset. Of course, about a quarter of the jars have been broken by American bombing - if we destroy the cultural heritage of the rest of the world, no one will notice our own lack of McCulture (warning: rumor has it there are terrorists hiding out underneath Stonehenge and in the Eiffel Tower). Anthropologists think that the jars were used for secondary burial, and there is a large cave nearby which was used for cremation. Alcoholic locals think the jars were used for brewing whiskey. Personally, I think the jars were used as part of a prehistoric hydraulic system for a giant waterslide park. We actually had seats on a real bus for the journey to Vang Vieng, and were back in tourist central. Vang Vieng is an omen of the forthcoming destruction of Laos' culture by tourism, as demonstrated by the 40 guest houses showing movies 24 hours a day and the hordes of tourists drinking and smoking their brains out. Nevertheless, it was nice to eat good, healthy food for the first time in days, and it felt like we were back in civilization. After a couple days of rejuvenation via movie watching, we headed to Vientiane on the final leg of my Laos journey. But a bus would be too boring as a means of transportation, so we decided to kayak. While this still meant a considerable amount of driving, we could cover about the middle third of the distance by paddling downstream. Not surprisingly, in typical Laos fashion, our fellow kayakers didn't bother to show up until over an hour late. We rediscovered that truth in advertising is not of paramount concern in Laos, and briefly skirmished over who got to take the single kayaks that we were all promised. As only two of us had sealed kayak experience and were able to fit in the short sealed kayaks, that was an easy decision. The remaining plastic and crappy inflatable kayaks caused some grief though. We started paddling downstream, and those in the inflatable kayaks spent most of their time facing either shore. After a couple small rapids, we stopped and scouted a "grade 2" rapid. Those who didn't know better thought it wasn't a big deal; we had all rafted down much bigger rapids. However, this was a lot harder than any grade 2 rapid I had done in my course in New Zealand, and was a little beyond the edge of my abilities. Rafts will also run just about any rapid rather easily, while kayaks flip quite easily. I resisted my desire to brown the water, went first, got about halfway down, successfully avoided the big rock threatening to crack my skull, and flipped under. Two seconds later, I was out of the rapids, intact, and had successfully rolled back up. I think four of the remaining seven kayaks flipped as well, and it took some time to recover all the floating backpacks and sandals. In case that wasn't enough stimulation, we stopped for lunch an hour later and were convinced to jump from a 35 foot cliff. Adrenaline and egos pumped, and we all jumped. My two companions were unlucky, and received nasty bruises on their backs and chests. We all survived, finished paddling, and got stuck in a crowded songthaew for the remainder of the journey to Vientiane. Exhausted and bruised, we vegetated for most of the next day in Vientiane. With the exception of some excellent meals and pastries (thanks to the French colonists) and seeing a few sites, we mostly sat around air conditioned buildings, discussed how we now felt our mortality and wouldn't do dumb stuff like that again, and recovered. Eager to return to Thai civilization, sick of substandard guest houses, and in a rush to get to the full moon party, I flew out the following night. I clenched my seat very tightly during a brief bout of turbulence, didn't touch the food, and survived Laos Airlines. Laos was a great experience, and while it really is nice to be comfortable again, I now miss the rural charms of Laos. After 2 weeks in Laos, I have now returned to Bangkok. And for the first time since I last arrived in Bangkok, I am experiencing serious culture shock. Instead of writing elegant prose about Bangkok, I have assembled a top 10 list of the best and worst things about it. Unfortunately, I couldn't fill one of the categories. 10 Things I Hate About Bangkok
1) Traffic 10 Things I Like About Bangkok
1) It's not Singapore Question: If all tuk-tuk drivers in Bangkok are "tuk-tuk drivers from hell", what does that make Bangkok? Actually, it's been about ten days since I returned to Bangkok, but this email is long enough already and was finished there but I couldn't send due to internet difficulties, so full moon party and Songkran stories will have to wait. In the aftermath of my Stanford acceptance, I've had to resolve finances and timelines, and my plans are now looking much more defined. I will be spending the next several weeks in southern Thailand enjoying beaches (Krabi, Koh Lanta, Koh Phi Phi) and national parks (hoping to see a tiger in the wild). Then a few days in Cambodia seeing the world-famous temples of Angkor Wat, and on to a few weeks in Vietnam. I've had to give up my dreams of China and Nepal, but hopefully they will be on future trips. Culture shock as I spend about 3 weeks rushing around Europe, visiting family and friends in DC and New York, and finally back to Santa Barbara in late June to work for a few months before starting grad school. I hope all is well with you, and always look forward to fellow travel stories, advice, and office gossip.
Cheers, |