Monthly Archives: March 2010

Cambodia Part II: Angkor What?

29 Monday Mar 2010

Posted by in Cambodia

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I’ve uploaded the Cambodia pics! Here is the link, hope you enjoy them!

http://picasaweb.google.com/anitalgray/CambodiaMarch2010#

I left you on my bus journey five days ago heading to Siem Reap. It started badly when I realized that Andrea was not in her seat on the bus. I tried, in vain, to explain to the staff on the bus that we needed to wait for her as she had paid for her ticket, but they didn’t understand me. Oh well?!

The ride was about six hours long and was quite trying on the senses. For those of you that are fans of my blog, you may recall a certain bus journey I had to endure in Chile in 2008, where an alarm kept sounding every 30 seconds for no apparent reason. Well, in Cambodia, the bus drivers honk their horns, for no apparent reason, incessantly every few seconds. They honk to say hello to other cars, they honk to warn people who are walking on the street, they honk when they haven’t honked in
several seconds. After a while it really grates on the nerves and I cursed myself that I hadn’t brought ear plugs.

To make it even worse, they were playing loud Khmer pop songs….AND a really bad martial arts movie…AT THE SAME TIME! yikes.

Good thing I was reading a book about the art of Buddhism. Read: sarcasm.

We stopped half way for some lunch. The heat hit you like a slap in the face as you stepped off the bus, and then continued slapping for the next 20 mins…you could feel your own sweat trickling down your legs. I decided to have what the locals were having…which was some kind of greenish looking soup, with weird brown looking fried thingies, and pinkish meat. It tasted OK and it cost 50c so I didn’t complain.

At least not until later that evening…more on that in a moment.

We arrived to the usual ONSLAUGHT of Tuk Tuk drivers asking whether “Lady, you need tuk tuk to hotel? I know nice guest house, will take you”, though they were particularly aggressive this time. I ignored them all, as usual, and immediately walked over to whomever was NOT screaming at me and haggled a $2 ride to my hostel choice. No, I didn’t want to stop at another hotel on the way. No, I didn’t care if my choice was “far far from town”. No, I didn’t want to see temple on the way. No I don’t want to stop at shop. No, I don’t care if I lady travelling on her own. No, no, no, no, no. I just want to get to my hostel. Thank you.

Jeez. Its like pulling teeth and you have to be downright nasty to get through: this is a land where “No” means nothing to the sellers, they see it as an opportunity to win a sale through repeating their sales pitch again, and again, and again (not to mention, that together with the Khmer accent…the words come out so harsh and the intonation sounds like they’re yelling “hey you stepped on my foot!!” instead of making a proposition (this became ever more apparent during the temple visits at Angkor Wat, where you are greeted by a sheer CACOPHONY of “Hey Lady, you want cold drink?”, “Hey Lady, you want food?”, “Hey Lady, you buy postcard? Only 3 for $1!!! (which my future travel buddy, Camille, from France, hysterically corrected by calmly replying “No, its 3 for only $1!) “Hey Lady, you want pineapple?”…and so on. They SCREECH their questions at you- and I heard these expressions easily hundreds of times each day at Angkor Wat…the intonation of those voices have made easily as indelible an impression on me as the temples did themselves, which is kind of sad.)

Finally got to my hostel and was delighted to find an air-conditioned room overlooking the pool, including breakfast, for $17. Wonderful. Dropped my bags, and literally raced into my bathing suit and jumped in the pool. Amazingly refreshing.

I headed into town for dinner that evening with two lovely British girls named Katie and Becky. We started on foot and then decided to grab a tuk tuk (apparently the annoying tuk tuk driver from earlier was telling the truth about the distance, although this turned out to be a plus for me instead of a minus) to a little food stall area by the river for some cheap eats. He clearly had no idea where he was going and dropped us at some random restaurant at which point he refused to respond to our request to be taken where we’d been asked. We all were just so frustrated that we got out and plonked ourselves down there to eat. Sometimes, its just not worth the fight. And I have to say, the “fight”, was definitely worse in Cambodia thus far compared with Thailand.

Our meal was lovely and the three of us ate handsomely for only $9, although the fresh spring rolls I ordered were disappointingly bland. I was too hungry to care. We all enjoyed a lovely conversation getting to know each other and then we headed back to get to bed, having decided to brave the 5am departure for sunrise at Angkor Wat.

Angkor What?

Not for me. That night, my stomach awakened me with the command that its contents needed to be emptied. Over the next 36 hours I wretched and writhed around in blissful travellers’ tummy agony. Oh how I enjoyed crawling back and forth to the bathroom on my hands and knees. How I enjoyed laying there and counting the minutes tick by. How I loved not having anyone with ambulatory skills nearby that could kindly fetch me some water and flat sprite. How slowly the day passed.

On the bright side, I read over half of my new book….and I had A/C so that I wasn’t sent over the edge with being ill AND relentlessly overheated. I was also very grateful that we had a bar/restaurant in the hotel…and that the staff were kind enough to read in my face when I finally made it down the stairs with the words “water and 2 bottles of sprite, please, now please” that I wasn’t going to be able to wait the customary SE Asian amount of time for service.

In the end, despite the fact that Andrea had disappeared (she emailed me saying that she took a later bus but she’d given in to the tuk tuk driver’s guest house recommendation and not come to Earthwalkers where I was staying) I was glad that I’d given myself 4 full days in Siem Reap since I missed a day and a half being out of it.

So, the second day…feeling a little wobbly still, I tentatively ate dried toast and tea for breakfast and struck up a conversation with a French girl who came and sat nearby. She was also travelling alone (yay!….Becky and Katie did a one-day Angkor wonder and had already left) and after some persuasion, as she was on a tight budget (to which I responded that I would pay for the tuk tuk for the day tour of the temples anyway, and I’d prefer to have the company) she agreed to join me as we hit the road to see the Eighth Wonder of the world. Camille was wonderful and very inspiring. She had been “working” her way around the world for the better part of a year, at age 23, and explained that she left France with only 500 euros to her name, and still managed to have about the same amount in her bank account today. See folks? You don’t need money to travel!!! Just guts and determination….(and hopefully a passport from a developed nation. ugh.)

Our driver, Si, was recommended to me by Katie and Becky. He claimed to speak English, but that was questionable. I completely forgave him because he never failed to smile…all day long. I called him “Smiley”. He was lovely and gave us zero pressure- which was very refreshing.

On that first day, I explained that I wanted to see some of the outer temples and save Angkor Wat itself for the following morning at sunrise. No sense in seeing the Big Kahuna on day one and having the other sites not have quite the same impact.

Camille was the perfect temple companion because she took her time, and was a bit of a history nerd like me. I was worried that I might get “templed” out, as I sort of did in Thailand, but nothing could have been further from the truth here. The more I saw of these incredible 9th, 10th, 11th century stone meccas built by Kings, married with nature (sometimes overtaken by it, such as the trees at Ta Prohm) and dedicated to the practice of Hinduism and Buddhism, the more fascinating they became.

The crowds were another thing. They were annoying. Though not as annoying as the hawkers. Which included children. Tiny children. I had a little girl, barely 3 years old, try to sell me 10 postcards for over 15 minutes while I rested on a tree trunk. We agreed that, sadly, her first words were undoubtedly “only 1 dollar”, and not “Mommy”.

We were very lucky that day to have also had a reprieve from the heat in the form of an early morning rainstorm that cleared the air nicely. I even had to wear a jacket on the tuk tuk ride in because there was a chill! It meant that we were able to spend most of the day getting in four or five temples before heading back to town for lunch.

My high spot for the day was the temple of Bayon: which has faces carved into numerous towers; a fabulous display of the egoistic nature of its designer King Jayavarmann VIII. It was captivating to look at the level of detail that went into all of the art work, the painstaking depictions of everything from legions of armies…to a women giving birth!

Camille and I took lunch in downtown Siem Reap. The town itself did not impress me much: it was a tourist trap and the prices were surprising (woo hoo! It just started thundering and raining here!) The smog, traffic and noise all made me thankful for my choice of hostel. After another slightly disappointing meal (I had a “platter” of Khmer food, but none was to my liking except for the banana in coconut milk dessert), we walked back to our hostel and enjoyed a lovely evening in the pool and getting to know our fellow backpackers.

The next day was the highlight of my trip to Cambodia. Together with another hostel guest, Marius from Norway, the three of us decided to rent bicycles and brave a 4:30am departure in the morning to catch sunrise at Angkor Wat, before tackling the “Grand Circuit” of just over 40km of road in total.

It was so exciting to don my headlamp and head out into the dark streets, dodging cars on the same mission as us. It was a 10k ride out to the pearl of the temples, and you could just make out a glow in the sky as we parked our bikes and took what felt like a surreal march to heaven along the long path across the moat leading to the glorious structure that is Angkor Wat.

It was one of those moments that I’ll never forget. It was spiritual.

That is, until we parked ourselves by the lake to capture the rising sun on our cameras together with a couple hundred other tourists ( including of course the Japanese tourists, who, I’m sorry, but who CANNOT EVER shut up and appreciate a truly tranquil experience like the rest of us manage. They have to shriek at each photo and share, and point, and yell at one another with wild hand gestures.) It was still magical, regardless.

After a few hours of clambering inside the giant building itself and climbing to the top of its highest turret, we set off on our bicycle discovery and took in about four more temples before we crashed for lunch. Of course, I ate at the woman’s stall who hadn’t screamed at me- telling her so as well. She understood.

My favorite was Preah Kanh because it had the same trees as Ta Promh magically taking over the walls and roofs of the structure, but it also had very intricate tiny passageways and rooms that you almost had to crawl through. Wonderful.

After lunch, Marius and I decided to begin the long ride home as we were completely beat, and the afternoon sun was starting to get brutal. Oh my god. That bike ride was so very very long. I was so happy to make it back and quickly got in the pool. The three of us could barely move, so we decided to ask Si to drive us back to catch the sunset. We all went to the popular sunset spot, but turned around after we realized that it was just the classic sunset looking at the sky from a hill, and we wanted to see the changing colors on the walls of the temples themselves. Si, so generously, zoomed us back over to Bayon so that we could see the faces change shade with the setting sun.. Unfortunately, after about 20 mins of exploring, a guard came by to inform us that it was “cloe”. Not a spelling error.

That night, someone said the magic word “pizza” and we happily devoured a large spinach and mushroom washing it down with good ol’ Angkor beer before taking our wrecked limbs to sleep.

The following morning I awoke early to bid goodbye to Camille who was busing it to the border and then getting the train to Bangkok. Interestingly, she would only arrive about an hour before I did, and my flight didn’t leave until that evening!

I spent the day chilling out mostly. I read, swam and wrote my blog. Si gave me a ride into town. He was so lovely. He even made me well up in my throat and choke back tears when he bid me goodbye at the airport. He thanked me for being “special lady good customer”, and asked if I might email him to help him with his “very bad engrish”. Of course I agreed, shook his hand, and then as I waved…he yelled out what he’d said to me the previous 3 evenings…”Good night Miss Anita…see you in d morning!”

The flight was strange. 35 minutes in total, and they served a full meal. Weird how the Thai’s will constantly haggle and then give things away like that when they’re not expected? I shoved mine into my backpack as I was not feeling good – again! Can’t say I’m a fan of Khmer food šŸ˜¦

Landing in Bangkok, I grabbed a cab to my familiar hotel in Rambuttri.

Today was amazing. I did SO MUCH in Bangkok and I have a far improved opinion of the city as compared to before. I saw the giant reclining Buddha at Wat Pho, took in the crazy crazy narrow market streets of Chinatown, rode the river boat along the Cho Phra, saw a VIP movie at the cinema (think food and blankets provided!), watched Thai people doing mass aerobics in Lumphini Park, took in the skyscrapers around Siam Square and then rode the Sky Train home.

Then I wrote this. Didn’t mean for it to be so long…but sigh……

Tomorrow, I head to the airport at 7:30 for my flight to Kathmandu. Not sure if I’ll write much in the next two weeks as I head to Everest Base Camp. You can follow the journey online at Alpineascents.com

Will be back in Bangkok on April 19. Till then,

Much love,

Anita

Cambodia Part I: Same Same, But Different

28 Sunday Mar 2010

Posted by in Cambodia

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So last time I left you I was preparing for my flight to the capital of Cambodia, Phnom Penh, via Bangkok. That was last Monday and it was a full day of travelling. Tuk tuk to airport, flight to Bangkok (where I dropped off a bunch of gear at left luggage with my trekking bag), flight to Phnom Penh and tuk tuk (Cambodia style….same same, but different) to many different guest houses until deciding on a half decent one by the river. I should explain “same same, but different”. It is a phrase that one hears with extreme regularity from the locals whenever they want to express that something is similar to something else, or, more likely, that they have no idea how to explain the differences/qualities of something else in English. Therefore, it is used to describe another dish at a restaurant, a tour costing 30 bucks more, another room at a guest house…you get the idea. So, in that spirit, I describe Cambodia as just a little bit same same, but different.

On arrival in Phnom Penh, I obtained my visa for $20 and hopped into a tuk tuk (which is a 3 wheel taxi pulled along by a motorbike) with a French guy named Nelson, who kindly obliged letting me accompany him into town. It was ridiculously hot and I cursed my decision to wear jeans because it was a travel day. The traffic here was thick and the noise and crowds of the big city hit me pretty hard. In a very short time, I just wanted to get into a shower: jeans and all! We tried to find a decent hotel room, and I was quite surprised by the prices (all in US dollars, by the way…you only get Cambodian Real as change for something costing under a dollar) which were all over $20. I settled on a guest house on the mighty Tonle sap river, in what appeared to be a very touristy part of town…though I was too tired to care. Nelson was here to volunteer for an NGO designing a UV water purification system in Battambong and was only in Phnom Penh one night. After freshening up, we set out for some dinner. As I was still feeling under the weather, we settled on a place close by overlooking the water. My first impression here was the sheer number of tuk tuk drivers who bombard you with “Lady, tuk tuk? Lady, tuk tuk?” (I once counted 26 of these identical piercing queries during only a five minute stroll…which would test any one’s polite travel demeanor. I was so tempted to say…”Oh, yeah! I’ve changed my mind in the past TWO STEPS that I’ve taken since the last guy asked me, you annoying, screeching idiot!!! If I need a tuk, tuk, I’ll let you know!) Of course, men have it easy- they only hear “”Tuk, tuk?” In fact, I can honestly say that if I am never called “lady!!!!” again, it would be too soon…and I’ve only been in this country for 6 days.

I ordered Lemongrass chicken soup and was enjoying our conversation when we were joined by a rather strange Canadian man who appeared to be in his late fifties. He asked if he could join us, and began telling us that he was hear celebrating his engagement to a Cambodian woman whom he’d met here a few years ago, and that he’d just got back from her village where he stayed with her family on their farm along the Mekong River. That was all OK- I’ve gotten used to seeing old North American and European men with giant bellies prancing around with their trophy tiny young and lithe Asian women. But when he mentioned that she was all of 19 years of age…I was completely grossed out. He could probably read my expression, because he innocently asked, “What? Don’t you think we’ll be happy together?”, to which I responded, “You don’t want to hear my answer to that”. “No, no…I do” he insisted. So, I let him have it. I explained, which Nelson squirmed in his seat, very politely but firmly that he disgusted me, and that taking a young innocent girl, who doesn’t speak English, away from everything she holds dear, and taking her to the snowy north of Alberta and marrying her will only result in her extreme misery. However, with any luck, I said that I sincerely hoped that she used him to get a fine education, after which she’d figure out the mistake she’d made, and then take him for half of his money in a divorce and use the proceeds to give her family here a good life. He said he appreciated my honesty. I sincerely doubted him.

After wishing Nelson all the best for his volunteer work…I headed to my dark but air conditioned room and passed out.

The next day, I spent a solitary day sightseeing around the city…but having lots of small and wonderful interactions with various people. After breakfast of the smallest shake on earth for $2 I took a Tuk Tuk to the Tuol Sleng Prison museum, a gruesome reminder of the torturous occupation of Phnom Penh in the late seventies, during which a genocide of 2 million Khmer citizens took place. For those of you who don’t know, Cambodia suffered a horrendous civil war in the early 70’s, which culminated in the taking of Phnom Penh by the Khmer Rouge army, led by the insane and crazed Marxist, Pol Pot, on April 17, 1975. Every single citizen, man woman and child was forcibly removed from their homes, year zero was declared, money was abolished, and an agrarian class-less commune society was established which involved the mass production of food through forced hard labor in large “concentration camp-like” communes scattered throughout the countryside. What’s worse, families were separated, including children taken from their mothers. It was nearly 4 years of sheer terror for the people, while the military shot, and bludgeoned to death any persons failing to comply with their new gruelling life, suspected of siding with the old regime, intellectuals, professionals, teachers, and their children. Tuol Sleng used to be a high school but it was turned into a prison of torture where the KR could interrogate suspected rebels of the new order.

Of the 20,000 or so estimated inmates of the prison, none made it out alive.

The museum is a chilling collection of implements of torture, first hand accounts from the soldiers, holding cells, and of course, thousands of photos and documents that tell the story of crimes that few in the world realized the enormity of when it was going on.

It was so hard to believe that this was happening during my first few years of my life: in fact, I distinctly remember hearing about the situation in Cambodia while I was in the hospital at age 3 recovering from my burn accident. It is one of my first memories…

After that gruesome few hours, I walked over to a cafe that a friend in Chiang Mai had recommended that I try out. It was an incredibly delicious deli that served amazing paninis and cakes. It was just what I needed…a little taste of home. There, I met with Clare, an American from San Francisco who was also in Phnom Penh working on a clean drinking water project, but this time for her non-profit employer back home. It was interesting getting her perspective on life here in the city, and on how much the people struggle. We talked about the prevalence of PTSD, and how there was literally no-one in this country who didn’t have family who were murdered by the regime in the 70’s. By all accounts, Phnom penh is still a “new-ish” city that is trying to re-build and recover, mostly psychologically.

In the afternoon, I wandered over to the grounds of the Royal Palace and Silver Pagoda. I must have inadvertently found a sort of “secret entrance”, because there was no-one around and no ticket booth. I wandered around, happy to have the place to myself and standing underneath sprinklers that were working on the flowers. After an hour the place began to fill up and I realized that the grounds had been closed before! oops. Oh well. It was beautiful just wandering around the decadent gold and green buildings and going inside some of the silver laden temples to contemplate.

The heat was getting to me. I needed to head back to my hotel for a siesta- but before I did, I ran into and struck up a conversation with another single traveller named Andrea. We both had noticed one another because we shared a striking resemblance to one another. After sharing a tuk tuk back to town, we arranged to meet up for dinner that evening.

Later I tried to get on a boat for a sunset sail, but just missed it. Instead, I walked along the riverfront, calmly shaking my head at every “Lady!!! Lady!! you want….?” request for tuk-tuks, rooms, books, souvenirs etc. and tried to enjoy the sunset. I met Andrea at 7 and she convinced me to join her on the afternoon bus the next day heading to Siem Reap (a day earlier than I had originally planned) I agreed, deciding to visit the “Killing Fields” in the early morning, before the heat set in, at which point leaving this giant, loud metropolis would be just fine.

It was a 14km tuk tuk ride out to the Choeng Ek Killing Fields the next day at 6:45am – just one of the more famous areas of uncovered mass graves that were found after the fall of the Khmer Rouge in 1979. The most chilling site greets visitors as you walk through the main gate- a tall shrine eight stories high that is literally filled with thousands of human skulls. It is quite a sight.

As suggested, I bought some flowers and incense and paid my respects to these souls last “resting place”, before exploring more of the site. Human bone fragments could still be seen just below the surface of the ground in many places and there were at least 16 distinct marked graves, that were discovered with hundreds of naked rotting corpses in them. Extensive forensics have been performed to try to establish sex, age, and cause of death. In the majority of cases, the victims were bludgeoned in the head and then had their throats slit. Difficult to comprehend was that babies and children’s skulls were often smashed against a tree before being tossed in next to their mothers. The museum again did a good job of interpreting the series of events that led up to this atrocity in history, and there was also a 30 min documentary in English, which just happened to be showing in an AC auditorium (which was extremely welcome). After 2 hours or so, I returned to the driver who was waiting for me.

I had the chance to observe a lot of the suburbs and surrounding towns on the drive to and from the Killing Fields, and here, in no particular order, are some of my observations:

– Cambodia is developing very fast. There was a tremendous amount of construction.
– Lots of women seem to enjoy wearing pajamas as their day wear. Curious?
– There was a lot of pollution in the rivers….plumes of grey and purple chemical froth pools clogging up the area.
– Most people and families get around on their moto (motorbike). It was very common to see 4 people and children seated on one bike dodging the traffic.
– I saw several babies “attached” and sitting behind their moto driving mothers simply by a too large cardigan that forced their little arms out straight like ram rods and their mothers then took the long sleeves and tied them around their own bellies!
– Most businesses are open air and simply line the main street.
– Stray dogs are everywhere as well as lots of water buffalo.
– People of all ages were hard at work in the fields.

Anyhow, I’ll end it there. I got the six hour bus to Siem Reap that afternoon (nearly forgetting
my passport at the hotel!!) and funnily enough, Andrea wasn’t on the bus! Oh well….adventure at Angkor Wat lay ahead.

Will write Part II tomorrow from Bangkok as Tuesday I fly to Nepal for my Everest Adventure!

Thailand Part II

22 Monday Mar 2010

Posted by in Thailand

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I’m back in Chiang Mai and preparing to fly to Cambodia tomorrow, while fighting a weird cough/cold. It has not dampened my enjoyment and its been a full week here in Thailand.
So I last left you on my last evening in Chiang Mai before heading out on a 3 day/2 night trek into the rural hills north of the city to visit the indigenous Karen tribe villages. We spent that last evening travelling up to Doi Sudathep, a temple perched on a mountain about 20 mins outside the city which boasted incredible views of the sunset. After taking in the views, the five of us headed out for dinner and drinks to bid farewell (only Raizel was joining me on the trek) to our group of five. It was a memorable evening punctuated by the obligatory Irish pub for another St. Patrick’s day spent away from home. (and of course, there isn’t a city in the world that doesn’t have an Irish pub!)

After a quick breakfast and picking up my airline tickets for Cambodia the following Monday, we piled into a van to head out to the start of our trek. There were seven of us in the initial group, with only four who stayed for the full 2 nights of the excursion. We began our adventure with an elephant ride through the jungle. Now, I’ve been on elephants before, so I wasn’t initially that terribly enthused to give it a try, but decided that it was included and the elephants looked pretty happy and well treated. So up we went, Raizel and I.

Whoops of excitement from both of us prompted Raizel to point out that we were being rather “loud American tourists”, and we both vowed to tone it down a little. The scenery was beautiful and the elephants trotted along nicely with the weight on their backs. Then came time to feed the elephants, including the two baby elephants who came along sans riders to partake in the fun. We were given bananas to place gingerly into the elephants’ trunks which kept “snaking” into our laps hungrily almost immediately after a banana had been swallowed. It was once we were out of bananas that all hell broke loose. The elephants started to snort in discontent, flinging a mucous banana-filled spit all over us, and causing Raizel to begin shrieking at the top of her lungs. Add to that the fact that the baby elephant was ever more persistent in snottily rummaging through our legs, arms and laps with his hungry and snotty trunk, and you have two very loud “American tourists” screaming. To make matters even worse, our guide, who up to that point had been sitting on the elephant’s head navigating for us, decided to just jump off and let the elephant we were riding just do its own thing. That got Raizel into a complete frenzy as she recalled frightening memories of being thrown from a horse. The elephant sometimes would break out into a little run that made Raizel scream so hard it hurt my eardrums as I tried to soothe her by saying all was well (which of course I didn’t know for sure). One couldn’t help but notice as well that the snotty trunks very closely resembled the male sex organ which made their pursuit of our scared beings more…tasteless, shall we say? It all became even more entertaining when the whole group of us headed into the river and then the banana snot became fountains of muddy water, rocks and no doubt elephant poop all raining down over us. We should have worn plastic parkas!

It was all easily forgotten as we witnessed the baby elephants playing in the water and whooping for joy with their mom’s. It was wonderful to observe.
Filthy and covered in banana mucous, we headed to the trail head and happily hiked our gear ten minutes in to a raging waterfall. It was idyllic. We ate fried rice from little plastic bags and then ecstatically cooled and bathed ourselves in the turbulent water which was just cold enough to be bitingly refreshing.

After our swim, we hiked for a couple of hours to the location of our first night’s camp: a Karen village complete with a bamboo “hut” made for our shelter. It was delightfully devoid of tourists (which I had feared would be lining up to buy knick-knacks at souvenir stalls) and actually quite authentic from what I could tell. The village held about 10 different “homes” and we witnessed families returning from the rice fields’ and a days’ work, children running barefoot and playing with the chickens and the colorful outfits that adorned the married women (single women in Karen tribes wear only white to make it easier for the men to court them!)

Settling down to our outdoor table for a deserved chilled beer, I noticed that there were some pretty dark grey clouds looming towards us over the horizon. Our guide, Det (spelling??), said that he had heard on the news that a storm was coming tonight. This was very rare because we were slap bang in the middle of the dry season. Hmmmm. We waited, anxiously, as the “atmosphere” created by the dark clouds, the sticky heavy air, and the gathering winds spelled weather to come. Before we could start dinner, the first raindrops began to fall. And then, the heavens opened and unleashed their fury for the next several hours. It was one of the most violent downpours I’ve ever witnessed, churning the ground into a sea of red gushing mud, furiously plummeting down the hillsides. Needing to pee required running through a small exposed area between our shack and the outhouse, and we were soaked by the brief exposure to the elements. Safely inside our bamboo hut, we were incredulous as we began to hear the sound of giant hail pounding on the roof together with the rain. Hail? In Thailand? In this heat?

Apparently, yes.

We ended up dining inside our sleeping quarters, a wonderful red curry with rice, and then shared songs and stories to the sound of the storm outside.

We slept on little mattresses spread out on the bamboo floor, and I cursed myself for not bringing my cotton “mummy” liner as I looked on at the filthy pillow covers and sheet less beds with blankets that may not have seen the inside of a washing machine this past decade. Not expecting the rain was one thing, but none of us expected the temperature to plummet the way it did. It was so cold during the night, that all regard for sanitation vanished and I pulled four blankets tightly around every exposed piece of skin, shivering away. Brrr.

The next morning we awoke to a fresh air that had been cleaned from the smoke of the last 3 days (all the crops are being burned at present, creating horrendous smog in the area and difficult respiratory conditions) and no signs of damage from the storm, except for our chilled bodies which responded well to a fresh cup of hot coffee. After scrambled eggs and toast, we strapped on our backpacks and headed out on the trail.

We past several more villages this day, witnessing farmers at work in the fields, women gathering frogs to eat for dinner, a tarantula which our guide “poked” out of its nest with a stick (it emerged with such speed that the guide had to take a leap backwards to get out of its way…it was epic!), and lots of farm animals such as water buffalo, pigs, and chickens. It was beautiful countryside and only the heat kept us rambling at a comfortable pace. We said goodbye to our 3 “2night” friends and continued on our way to our lunch spot.

This was taken in a villager’s little bamboo home and it was a very memorable part of the trip as we watched four of the Karen people prepare their own authentic lunch of frogs, a BBQ bird which resembled a small chicken but clearly wasn’t, and a grilled concoction of red ants and larvae! Our Dutch companion, Dave, was brave enough to try all 3… including the bird’s brain and liver. We happily took pictures of him doing this and smiled at the offers to try for ourselves as we ate our safe noodles in broth.

Our guide, Det, was a fey little man, and he told us that he was in “training” to lead this tour himself. It was difficult to form an opinion of him because his English was so terrible. Whenever you asked a question, rather than admit that he didn’t understand a word you were saying, he would do the classic Thai “saving face” move of giggling lightly and then responding with the last word in your question, an incomprehensible word that was not English, OR, my personal favorite: just “yes” or “no”. On several occasions, he hit on Raizel and suggested that the “bunk” together…so after that, I didn’t trust him at all and he really got on my nerves.
After lunch he offered our group more noodles and then laughed at me implying I shouldn’t have a second helping because I was “fat”, at which point he poked me in the tummy. Irritating little man.

Things got a little amusing, albeit embarrassing, when we were offered chocolate bars for dessert which we happily agreed to pay 10 baht for. The bars were called “Beng Beng”, and when it came time to pay, each of us offered up information on how many “Beng Bengs” we were responsible for payment for. Our guide kept giggling at us, and it was difficult at first to determine if this was just his regular giggle that he did constantly, or if there was some unknown reason for his amusement. Eventually, he started telling us that “Beng Beng” was a bad word in the Karen language. “What does it mean?” we asked, shocked at our innocent mistake, realizing that since the Thai don’t have the same alphabet, they would have no idea what the name of the chocolate bars would sound like in the English language. He literally took out his dictionary and drew a little diagram of a vagina and said “it means middle of woman”. I couldn’t believe it! We didn’t know how to say hello, thank you, please, or goodbye, but we managed to repeatedly say “vagina” to the Karen people who hosted our lunch! Unbelievable.

We walked on another couple of hours and found ourselves in a rather muddy section of agricultural land. I gingerly took steps to avoid sinking into the mud, and heard Raizel mockingly comment “Is it a little muddy, Anita??” at which moment I heard her shriek as she herself stepped knee deep into the bog. I smiled broadly and said “Be slow to point out other people’s shit for you will soon step in your own!”

That evening brought us to another waterfall where we happily dragged on our swimsuits and jumped in the cool water. Marley and Dave (from the Netherlands) happily made out in front of us under the cascading water, so in love that they were oblivious to our onlooking stares. Its always so lovely to see people madly in love…except when you yourself are so very single…. I gave them both a hard time which they took extremely well šŸ˜‰

Filing into our jungle camp for the evening, we came across a lone Korean man whom I fondly named Mr. Bath, because of his fascination with asking nonsensical questions about showers/baths/spas the following day. Apparently, he had been with a large Korean group, forgotten his towel in camp, dropped his bag to go fetch it, and then gotten horribly lost. He was very sweet, but communicating with him made communicating with Det seem easy as pie. It was painful even trying to convey agreement or refusal. After choosing a bamboo bungalow as far away from the “lovers” (who no doubt were going to make the most of having a private room) as possible, we all sat down to enjoy a cold beer before dinner. We noticed, to our chagrin, that storm clouds were gathering AGAIN, and this time…with two beers muddling my brain and lowering my defenses, I gave up some raucous entertainment singing my heart out as the clouds rolled in and my new onlooking fans (including ardent audience member Mr. Bath who kept saying “encore”) played the drums with their hands. It was an evening I will not soon forget. The rain started pounding down shortly after our dinner of yummy spiced vegetables and rice, and we had no choice but to retire to the storm safety of our huts as early as 8pm.

The storm was not quite as violent as the night before but it did provide some wonderful lightning and thunder claps. It was extremely engaging and I thoroughly enjoyed laying in my hut and listening to the sounds of the sky and watching as the river and camp light up with each strike of electricity.

Our last day involved a relatively short hike out to our waiting truck, which was colored by Mr. Bath’s insatiable questions about our hotel, whether they had showers, baths, or air conditioning. Mr. Bath was apparently very particular and after answering Raizel’s pleading glares to come and “save her” from her constant ‘I’m sorry…I’ve no idea what you are talking about” pleas, we together managed to ascertain that he was actually enquiring as to whether we knew of a public bath house available in Chiang Mai? We suggested he ask for a “spa” and hoped he’d give up with his ceaseless questions. Mr. Bath really was very sweet and I’ll not soon forget him. He was “picked up” by his lost group at the place we stopped at for lunch and we waved fond goodbyes.
Our truck took us safely (standing in the truck bed holding on for dear life) to a lunch stop before our Bamboo Rafting experience. Another first, which I love! We ate Pad Thai noodles, fried rice, and melon greedily.

The rafting experience was definitely improved by the fact that there had been such a significant down pouring of water the previous two evenings…the river was rather swollen. We imagined calmly sitting on this pontoon-like structure whilst being gently glided down the river, but the reality was rather different. We were soaked to the skin almost immediately by a combination of waves lapping over the rafts and our laughing river guide slapping down his oar on the water sending a wave of water over our heads. It was very good fun, especially when we navigated over the albeit mild rapid sections, because the raft itself was so flimsy. We watched as other groups capsized, and cheered ourselves as we managed to stay afloat through the last series of turbulent water.

I was very happy to get back to our guest house after the 2 hour drive home in a bumpy truck, though the ride was definitely aided by our hilarious recollections of Det, “Beng Bengs”, Mr. Bath, and the amorous forays of our Dutch friends.

We showered, re-humanized, and had an amazing organic salad dinner before heading out to the “Silver Temple” for “Monk Chat”, an opportunity to talk to a Buddhist Monk and ask random questions about his studies/life/Buddhism, and a free two hour class on meditation. Our “Tuk Tuk” driver dropped us a short walk from the temple and we navigated what turned out to be a wonderful Saturday street market full of Thai vendors selling everything from waffles to leather handbags. On arrival at the temple, which was a glorious aluminium/silver building, we were informed that the meditation teacher was away in Quebec, and that only the monk chat was available that evening. Slightly disappointed we sat down with the eager young monk to try out our questions.

His name was Thuy, which he told us meant “Fat”, but that after his nephew was given the same name, his parents added “Big”, so his name was “Fat Big”….which I thought was very sweet. We asked lots of questions like, “How old were you when you became a monk?”, “why did you choose this for yourself?”, “what’s a typical day like?”, and “Why can’t you be touched by a woman?”. He calmly and in his rather good English explained that in Thailand, it is a matter of cultural pride for every family to have at least one boy enter the Buddhist monastery..so he wanted to do that for his family. He entered at 18 and had been there for 3 years as a novice, sleeping on the ground while the monks each had an assigned bed. He said that his monastery focused on studying Buddhism, as opposed to studying meditation, which was interesting to learn. He also explained that he can’t be touched by a woman because it may lead to “Sexual Misconduct”. He was earnest, endearing and very encouraging of our exploration of his faith and beliefs.

After navigating the market back home, and guiltily stopping for a banana waffle filled with chocolate sauce which was so good it brought tears to our eyes, we happily crashed in our beds, ecstatic to be between clean sheets tonight.

Today brought a wonderful new experience of a Thai cooking class, which I was determined not to miss despite waking up with a horrible cough and stuffy nose. It lasted all day, and began with an informative tour of the local market where spices, vegetables and fruits were classified for us, and we all went back to the school laden with baskets straight out of “The Sound of Music”.
I really enjoyed the style of learning and the hands-on attentive teachers. I learned how to make Pad Thai, Chiang Mai Curry, Red Curry Paste, Mango with sticky rice, Seafood coconut soup, and Green Papaya salad. The group was lively and happily shared travel stories in between dishes, which we individually happily consumed as reward for our tested skills. By the end of the day, my tummy was so full I could barely move, and needed to take the rest of the day to “recover” and take it easy before my flights tomorrow to Cambodia. So, I’ve been writing this, and uploading my pics, which I hope that you enjoy!

SO ….that’s all for now, the next installment will no doubt be from the Khmer capital of Phnom Penh. I bid goodbye to Raziel sadly, happy that she will not be far away for me to visit when I get back to Seattle. I await further adventures!!

Much love,
Anita

Thailand Part I

17 Wednesday Mar 2010

Posted by in Thailand

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Friends,

Its hard to believe that this is only Day 4 of my trip thus far to Thailand. Feels like weeks have passed by. It was also very difficult to wrap my head around the speed at which I progressed from my job offer, to my travel plans, to actually leaving- five days in total. It sort of made my head spin. That was pushing it, even for me! I was filled with the usual anxieties of traveling alone, going somewhere exotic that Iā€™m unfamiliar with, and not having done enough in the research department to calm my usual detail-oriented nerves. However, the moment I stepped on my first of three flights to Bangkokā€¦everything dissipated and I was filled with a sense of excitement for yet another Anita Adventure extraordinaire.

My journey was extremely smooth and I cannot recommend Cathay Pacific more highly. They were incredibly particular about every detail of their flight service. I initially flew to Vancouver to catch my overnight flight to Hong Kong where I lost a Saturday night going over the dateline (but at least I didnā€™t need a date!) It was great seeing all of the Olympic paraphernalia again, and I managed to purchase a little Olympic Mascot keyring of ā€œQuatchiā€ ā€“ the little furry Sasquatch that I liked so much in Whistler. I thought he would be a good little omen for me, and make my photos of tourist sites much more interesting when there was no-one around to take pictures for me.

My only complaint on the flight was that the Indian Mumbai-bound gentleman sitting next to me on my flight to Bangkok insisted on picking his feet for the duration of the 3 hour journey. Yuck. I arrived, bleary-eyed at Bangkok International at 1:30am local time. Iā€™d been traveling for more than 25 hours. I was quite proud of myself for thinking that it might be best to pay for luggage storage at the airport itself for my giant duffel bag full of gear for my Everest trek, rather than lugging it around Thailand with me. I found left luggage for a little under a buck a day- and then grabbed a cab heading to my guest house for what was left of the night.

The city was buzzing. The driver of my cab assured me in broken English that he might be able to drop me ā€œwhile walk from hotelā€ because of the ā€œbig meetingā€. What was he talking about? ā€œItā€™s not dangerousā€, he assured me, ā€œjust many many traffic. You not hurtā€ Hmmm. I was not feeling reassured. As we drove towards the city centre, it became immediately apparent what he was referring to ā€“ thousands of red-shirted people protesting in the streets carrying anti-government banners, and lots of police dressed in full riot gear with bottles of tear gas. Oh, lovely. What a great date I picked to arriveā€¦ My ā€œwhile walkā€ ended up just being a few hundred meters hopping through a mob of backpackers all drinking and partying up the night in the streets.

Once inside my hotel, I was very impressed by the cleanliness of my room and the peace and quiet within. I showered and quickly fell asleep. The next morning I awoke around 7am and took off for a wander around the nearby streets. I immediately grabbed a fresh fruit shake for breakfast (under a dollar) and noticed that every other storefront offered a variety of massages for about 6 dollars per hour. I was in heaven. Just leave me here!! Looking for a certain travel agency, I asked 3 people sitting to breakfast what street I was on, and promptly struck up a conversation, ascertained that they were all from Manchester, England, forgot all about my morning errand, and joined them on a jaunt to see The Emerald Buddha and Grand Palace.

On arrival, our wits were tested by an official looking man who informed us that the temple was not open until 11am and that we should take a cab to go visit another temple and then returnā€¦his ā€œfriendā€ would take us there for only 10 Baht each. This registered in my brain as a scam and we promptly moved on past him and entered the main entrance to find hundreds of other people enjoying the clearly open historic site. After the girls were given clothes to cover our shoulders and knees, we headed in to the site. I rented an English audio tour- I always get so historically nerdy and think that I really want to learn everything about a site like thatā€¦and then the heat hits me and I realize Iā€™ve been listening to ā€œNumber 8 ā€“ The Chadiā€ for five minutes and I have no idea whatā€™s been said.

The buildings were amazing, ornate and all built by one of the ā€œRamasā€ (1-4 if my memory serves). I took lots of pictures and took off my shoes to sit cross-legged in contemplation in front of the Emerald Buddha. I melted. After a refreshing Singha beer and lunch we all headed back to our rooms for a little kitty nap and met up later for some meandering around Khao San Road, shopping, and dinner. Feeling exhausted from jet lag, I eagerly paid 6 bucks for the Thai massage and got pummeled into oblivion. I kept screaming every time she worked on my footā€™s surgical site, my English and frantic pointing to my scar apparently not enough to deter this tiny but mighty Thai lady from insisting on punishing it with her fists. Small price to pay for bliss everywhere else.

The next day, my new friends (Drew, Katie and Lucy) and I took a day trip to the Damnoen Saduak Floating Market, the bridge on the River Kwai, and the Tiger Temple. It was a full-on dayā€¦ The market was extremely touristy but I didnā€™t care- it was full of the iconic picture-perfect boats overflowing with produce and straw hat wearing old ladies trying to sell you Mango with sticky rice. We happily sat in our canoe-like boat and enjoyed our water-based shopping trip for a couple of hours before we headed to the town of Kanchanaburi and the World War II museum overlooking the famed Bridge on the River Kwai.

I found the museum fascinating and moving as I read of the over 100,000 POWā€™s who perished building the railway the Japanese used as a supply and escape route from Thailand to Burma during WWII. There were lots of displays of authentic Japanese armored vehicles, currency and signs from the occupation of Thailand, as well as harrowing stories told by some of the survivors. A walk across the now re-build bridge took me back in time as I imagined what it would have been like to be forced to march out onto this bridge knowing that the allied planes were about to drop bombs on it. Chilling. They say that the river ran red with blood for over 4 days.

Another long drive took us to the controversial Tiger Temple, where about 30 tigers live and roam the grounds offering visitors the chance to get up close and personal with pictures and nervous petting (really? Petting? The tigers? I didnā€™t believe until I sawā€¦) I had to buy a new pair of pants on arrival as I was informed that red and orange could make the tigers aggressive. I handed over cash very willingly upon hearing that for a blue pair of ā€œfishermanā€™s pantsā€ (which took me another 2 days to figure out how to tie properly I was a little uneasy about how the tigers were treated, especially since most of them were leashed and seemed very habituated to the humans stroking them. I did get my photo taken, my favorite encounter being with the cutest little tiger cubs.

After the 3 hour journey back to Bangkok, we were relieved to hear that we had managed to secure beds on the overnight sleeper train to Chiang Mai leaving in a couple of hours- so after a quick shower, we grabbed our backpacks and braved the crazed streets via taxi to the train station.

The train journey was quite a surreal experience: very exciting, romantic and patience-testing. Thank goodness we managed to secure the air conditioned cabin- the faces of the pained travellers sitting in the “fan-only” cars said it all. I slept extremely well despite the fact that they kept the fluorescent lights on all night (thanks to Cathy Pacific’s eye sleep-cover thingy).

In the morning, we stumbled down to the restaurant car (after taking an obligatory pee in the toilet/standing hole over the train tracks while holding your nose for the stench) and ordered coffee and coffee. While only 8am, the “manager” was blaring Thai pop tunes at a decibel that required yelling for passable conversation, and insisted on singing (badly) over the top of it at the same time. He was clearly on a controlled substance of some kind as evidenced by his inexplicable euphoria, announcement that he “does boys and girls, you know”, and then tendency to pass out when someone wanted to pay their check, muttering in Thai and shaking his head.

A few hours later, it became pretty obvious that we were going to be delayed because the train kept stopping every 10 minutes. We could but hope that the restaurant manager wasn’t sharing his drugs with the train driver. A lovely waitress came by and served us sandwiches for lunch as we sat hunched over on our bunk beds, unable to sit up because of the low ceiling. We made a new friend, Raicay, from Seattle (!!!) and sat laughing for hours at the situation, especially when the waitress would break out into a little song and dance for no reason.

Four hours late, we pulled into Chiang Mai station, and were immediately assaulted by the afternoon heat. Negotiating a fair price for a Sorng Taa ou to a guest house, we headed into town, checked in and then grabbed another mouthwatering delicious meal.

The food in Thailand has been outstanding so far. Fresh fruit and juices, and tons of veggies in every meal combined with delicious amounts of coconut milk and spices. Its been a huge part of the experience thus far and I look forward to every meal to try something new. In fact, I intend to take a day’s cooking class (wish you were here Magda!!) on Saturday after returning from a trek.

This morning I headed out around 6am ( I know – I’m NOT a morning person, but for some reason when I travel I metamorphosize) on a solo walking tour of the city temples when the peace and coolness of the morning was briefly interrupted by a terrifying encounter with a stray dog who attacked me. I did not provoke it in anyway, he just came right at me and bit me on the leg…THANKFULLY not puncturing the skin. A saffron-robed Buddhist monk came to my rescue and hit the dog with his stick getting him off of me. It was rather unnerving but after another twenty minute walk, I had brushed it off.

The temples were beautiful and I snapped a hundred photos before wandering back to the hotel via this Internet cafe.

Tomorrow, my new Seattle friend and I are heading north to do a 3 day hill-tribe trek, staying in traditional bamboo huts with the Karen people. I’m looking forward to it and getting some cardio exercise in. I will write again on my return.

Much love, Anita