A haphazard chronicle of my inevitable misadventures during a year in Vietnam and points east.

p.s. I'll be pitifully grateful if you send me email during my exile: TravelerKaty@hotmail.com

October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 February 2006 March 2006 May 2006

 
Hat Yai, Thailand

Thailand has some inexplicable rules governing tourist visas. On the one hand they generously offer free 30-day visas upon entering the country, unlike the time-consuming and very expensive visa requirements in most of the rest of Asia. If you end up staying more than a month, however (as so many do) you have two choices -- either find a local immigration office and purchase an extension (about $16.50) or leave the country for a few minutes and come back in for your brand-spanking-new 30-day free tourist visa.

At this point, you might be thinking "$16.50? Shoot, that's a no-brainer. Head to the immigration office, Katy!" If this was your thought, well then you're right, that would have been the logical move. As you might expect, I went to the Malaysian border. I'm just that kind of planner.

In my defense, I had a couple of reasons for doing it this way. First, the closest immigration office to Ko Lanta was in Krabi, and that town always put me in a bad mood. OK, maybe that reason was a bit weak. The second reason was based on somewhat faulty information. I was under the impression that we were less than four hours from Hat Yai, the Thai city near the border, while Krabi was two hours away. It really seemed like two hours was a small price to pay to: a. avoid the inevitable crabbiness in Krabi; and b. save $16.50.

As it turns out, the trip to Hat Yai was five and a half hours, plus the 40 minute back-of-the-pickup ride in the rain on the rutted dirt road from Kantiang Beach to the minibus station. And once I got to Hat Yai, it was an additional hour and 15 minutes to the actual border. So lets do the numbers, shall we?

Time Spent:
Krabi Immigration Office: 2 hours
Malaysian Border 8 1/2 hours

Transportation:
Krabi Immigration Office: back of pickup to minibus; minibus to Krabi
Malaysian Border back of pickup to minibus; minibus to Trang; tuk-tuk to minibus; minibus to Hat Yai; tuk tuk to minibus; minibus to border station; back of motorbike to Pradang Besar (border town); minibus to Hat Yai

Cost:
Krabi Immigration Office: $5 transportation + $16.50 visa = $21.50
Malaysian Border: $13 transportation + $0 visa = $13.00

As you can see, I saved an impressive $8.50, and spent an additional 6 1/2 hours, which by my calculations is right around $1.31 an hour, and that's when I round up. It's so nice to know what your time is actually worth. Of course, this doesn't take into account the incalculable benefit of being able to take a photo of the "Welcome to Malaysia" sign.

I also got to see Hat Yai, which I've got to admit is far worse than Krabi, for which my dislike is kind of arbitrary rather than based on the city's actual features. Late on my first night in Hat Yai I killed what I strongly feared to be a bedbug crawling across the mattress in my seedy guesthouse room. Although I had been relentlessly terrorized as a child by my mother's menacing "Night night, Sleep tight, Don't let the bedbugs bite" mantra, this was actually the first one I'd seen in the flesh. Had I noticed it before one a.m., I would have asked to switch rooms, at the very least. As it was, there were no hotel staff in sight, so I put the pillow (about which I had dire suspicions) across the room and tried to sleep without constantly slapping myself when I felt the slightest thing on my skin.

In the end, it may have been a false alarm -- I had no new bites in the morning -- but I moved anyway. Mom said not to let the bedbugs bite, after all, and I could surely take her advice in this small matter.

Copyright 2003 Katy Warren


posted by Katy at 3:31 AM

 
Well, I've finally caught up here, after 3 weeks of staying in beach towns with extortionately high internet rates ($4.50 an hour on Ko Lanta -- Holy Cow!). That wasn't the only reason, of course -- I've also been very lazy about the writing, and when you spend the whole day on the beach, there's not a whole lot to relate at the end.

In any case, in order to get to all the new ones, you may have to go into the archive, as I've been saving space on various days so I don't have to post an entire month of Thailand on a single day on the blog. So if you're into reading the whole thing, just scroll down to June 19th, or go to the June 19th archive if necessary, and start with Sukhothai.

Happy reading, and try to ignore any misspellings or typos you happen to run across. It's been such a pain to type all this in a single day that there's no way I'm going through to proofread as well.

Katy

posted by Katy at 3:59 AM

 
Ko Lanta, continued


Most caves don't start to freak me out until I'm well into the dark dank dripping battiness of them. This one was a notable exception -- it was disturbing from the moment we swam across the threshhold, not due to the darkness but to the powerful echoing noises emanating from within. In addition to the usual crash of the waves, which threatened to scuttle us against the shell- and barnacle-encrusted cave walls, the water rushing in and out of the long tunnel created a roar like the underside of an interstate freeway. Not a reassuring environment.

As we swam further things got worse, of course. It got darker and smellier, and the swimming got more difficult, fighting against changing currents. For those of you who will admit to having watched Baywatch a time or two, this resembled a common opening scene where dopey bikini-clad tourists laughingly explore a cave/drainage tunnel/shipwreck/ abandoned military facility and end up trapped with scant minutes of air left. Later in the show, improbably buxom lifeguards rush fearlessly to the rescue after addressing various relationship and hair issues and frolicking in a music video sequence.

But as always in baywatch, there was light at the end of the tunnel, and what a light it was. After maybe 150 yards of winding cave, we emerged into a tiny tropical eden, with a sandy beach maybe 30 yards across surrounded by trees and framed by sheer rock walls hundreds of feet high. No this whas what I pictured when I read "The Beach", not that crappy tourist trap garbage dump out on Ko Phi Phi. The cave still sucked, but the payoff was worth it.

We lunched at Ko Hai, which was uneventful apart from meeting an English guy who has mastered the art of leisure, and perhaps has taken it to ridiculous extremes. I ran into him studiously collecting shells in a plastic water bottle that had been cut in half. It was his ninth day on the island, on a stretch of beach less than a quarter mile long. He had so far taken no day trips, no runs to civilization -- nine days reading, sitting, sunning, and collecting shells. And he had six days remaining -- now that's a true commitment to doing nothing. I thought I was good at being lazy, but clearly I'm just a piker compared to this guy.

Well that's it for Ko Lanta. If you want to see what Kantiang Beach looks like, go to www.pimalai.com, which is the 5-star resort I mentioned. At the far end of the beach you can see some bungalows climbing up that hill -- that's the Lanta Marine Park View Resort. Their website is http://www.kolanta.net/MARINEPARKVIEW.htm


Copyright 2003 Katy Warren

posted by Katy at 3:47 AM

 
Ko Lanta, Thailand

I'm hesitant to tell people about it, but I found quite a Thai island paradise on Ko Lanta Yai. It's a bit of a fluke that I found myself on Kantiang Beach in the far southern end of the island. I had no intention whatsoever of going to a beach so far away from civilization, as I am somewhat in fear of being the only guest on a beach now that we are in the low season. in the Andaman Sea side of Thailand. And in fact, I had already rejected two different touts who had tried to convince me to go to that beach, one just off the Ko Phi Phi boat in Krabi, and one sharing my minibus to Ko Lanta, a chain of 52 islands.

But just before the minibus took off, a Thai man I'll call George (in lieu of the unpronounceable George-like Thai name he actually possessed) sat down beside me. Over the course of the two hour drive and two ferries, George convinced me to head down to the island's hinterlands. Never have I gained so much benefit from being a soft sell.

The beach was truly lovely, moon-shaped bay with about a kilometer of sand with a backdrop of mountains and coconut palms. At each end were high rocky headlands, atop one of which it was possible to eat superlative Thai food while seated on cushions on individual cliffside platforms, watching the most magical sunsets imaginable.

There are five "resorts" on Kantiang Beach, three at the north end owned by an extended family from Ko Lanta itself, one at the far end with just three bungalows and a nice restaurant, and one of the most gorgeously, thoughtfully laid-out five-star resort I have ever seen in the middle. Seriously, they had the most beautiful pool at that place, and everything looked rich, tasteful, private and understated. If only I had $125, the low season rate for their cheapest room. This would be exactly 25 times what I was paying for my very nice fan bungalow with balcony and view. I suspect that for the additional $120 you got hot water and air-con, though.

The Lanta Marine Park View Resort had other amenities, the best of which was the restaurant. Perched precariously on the hillside and occupying several levels, it offered a stunning view of the whole beach and mountains behind, and included sizable open grass-roofed wooden huts where you could lie on pillows, sip fruit smoothies and bask in the beauty before you. I spent hours there lounging, chatting with people, eating, playing cards and reading.

Not that all was perfection there. The staff were extremely friendly, but often in, shall we say, a Jamaican sort of way. You learned to ask complicated questions only in the morning, and never of the bartenders, as they were half-lit most of the time, and fully non-operational after 10 pm. All of the resort bartenders (except presumably at the 5-star one) were the same way -- they loved the low season -- but it was a small price to pay for paradise.

One of the excellent things about my stay on Ko Lanta was that on the way down I shared the back of the pickup truck with four other people, two European couples, with whom I had far more in common than with your average backpacker, since they were older than average, possessed no tattoos or facial piercings outside the ear, and had actually held real jobs.

Together the five of us signed up for a "4-Island Boat Tour" to do a bit of snorkeling and make us feel like we were accomplishing something. Days can pass there without doing anything more strenuous than shake the sand out of your sarong and order another drink.

Our first two stops on the tour, Ko Chuek and Ko Kraden, were your typical hunks of limestone erupting from the sea. The snorkeling at both was fantastic -- tons of fish and varied and colorful coral. I was a bit alarmed by the school of eels (who knew they swam in packs?) and by the many, many sea urchins, each spiny black with a mysterious bright blue spot in the middle, but I was able to avoid these dangers. Actually, I doubt eels would even be considered a danger, but they definitely look alarming and I try to ignore them unless they are on a menu.

At our third stop, Ko Mook, we were all a bit crabby and ready for lunch, it was cloudy and a bit rough, and we couldn't see any coral. Nobody moved -- none of us particularly wanted to snorkel again so soon, but at the same time we didn't want to miss anything amazing and/or not get full value for money. Just as we had convinced a 40ish Englishman to test the waters for us, our "guide", who spoke maybe 25 words of English, all related to the 4 Island Tour, indicated that we were not snorkeling at this location and that we should all don lifejackets for a visit to a cave.

No I know I rather belabor my loathing of caves, but I ask you -- a visit to a cave that involves lifejackets? It seemed this could only end in disaster. The nine of us leaped in teh water and started swimming after the guide who was (cruelly) the only one of us with fins, and who was carrying a very inadequate flashlight over his head. We wer eall less than graceful in his wake, as moving forward efficiently was impossible with lifejackets riding up around our necks. We looked like a school of particularly low-achieving hunchbacks.

The length of this post is totally freaking out blogspot, so please continue reading on Friday June 27.

Copyright 2003 Katy Warren

posted by Katy at 7:19 AM

 
Ko Phi Phi, Thailand

The two Phi Phi islands, known to Thais as Ko Phi Phi Don and Ko Phi Phi Ley, are sad, disheartening places that serve as a showcase for how unchecked tourist development can destroy paradise. I've seen bad tourism management before in the third world, in fact it's the norm rather than the exception, but Ko Phi Phi would emerge victorious in any How to Wreck an Island in Ten Years or Less competition.

The setting is absolutely gorgeous. Out in the middle of the Andaman Sea, Phi Phi Don, the larger of the two islands and the only one suitable for tourist development, is shaped a bit like a Star Wars Imperial TIE Fighter, with a wing on either side and a narrow connecting stretch in the middle. The two large wings are mountainous, with one featuring periodic sandy beaches separated by rocky headlands. The other is basically undevelopable due to the steep te4rrain, cliffs and lack of sand beaches. As a result of these proscriptive geological factors, 95% of the development on Phi Phi Don is on the tiny connecting arm of land in the middle, and the sandy beaches up one side of the south bay.

Into this small area, sometimes only a few hundred yards from the north bay beach to the south bay beach, are packed literally hundreds of dive operators, tour operators, restaurants, minimarts, guesthouses and bungalow resorts, internet outlets, massage rooms, and shops selling widely varying qualities of tourist crap. It's possible ot watch a different American movie (knockoff DVD) continuously from breakfast to the small hours of the morning, and it is an act of either strong willpower or fundamental good sense to escape Ko Phi Phi without a tattoo, piercing, beaded cornrows (which seriously haven't looked good on anyone since Bo Derek) or dredlocks. For the less self-mutilatory but still fashion-conscious backpacker there are henna tattoos and hundreds of toe rings, ankle bracelets, sarongs, and low-riding and very low-crotched Thai "fisherman pants", which I strongly suspect have never been spotted on an actual Thai fisherman. The crazy thing is that backpackers frequently moan about places getting too commercialized, yet they flock to places like Ko Phi Phi. I'm thinking that by "commercialized" they really mean "unaffordable".

Uncontrolled development translates also into uncontrolled garbage, a problem which is evident on Ko Phi Phi in the piles of trash and empty water bottles you see periodically. The coral reefs are being affected by careless anchoring and runoff from large beach resorts. Although much of the islands are national park, there has been no attempt to discourage developers from building practically right up to the high tide line, already necessitating the construction of long concrete breakwaters.

Ko Phi Phi Ley, the smaller of the two islands, is undeveloped (due in part to the clout wielded by birds-nest collectors but primarily to its rugged rocky cliff terrain) but is nonetheless heavily touristed. I, of course, was one of these guilty tourists. Every tour company on Ko Phi Phi offers the same snorkeling tour -- around the two Phi Phi islands and up to Banboo Island slightly to the north. Apart from the snorkeling itself, a major selling point of these tours is a visit to Maya Beach, where the appalling Leonardo di Caprio movie The Beach was filmed.

During the filming there were protests in Bangkok that a US moviemaker could buy access to one of Thailand's pristine National Park beaches. However, judging from the fact that the film company removed two to three tons of garbage from Maya Beach in their first week of production, not to mention the fact that no one appears to have picked up a single bottle or cigarette packet in teh four years since filming wrapped, I'd say they probably didn't have much room for criticism. Pristine it ain't.

If you ignore the garbage (difficult) and the 27 other boats motoring around the inlet (impossible), the setting is lovely, like all of Ko Phi Phi. The snorkeling is great (apart from the place where the little stinging jellyfish-like things were torturing us) and physically the place is a paradise of soft sand beaches, rocky cliffs, tropical forests and exotic wildlife (we saw dolphins!). With a little imagination you can picture how amazing it must have been ten to fifteen years ago and it just breaks your heart. I can only hope that not all of Thailand's beaches will go the way of Ko Phi Phi, but the Bangkok Post is full of stories of the bribery, corruption, and even murders involved in the ongoing development of Phuket. Thailand has amazing scenery and lovely beaches, but any potential visitor is advised to do some serious research before selecting one for a vacation.

Copyright 2003 Katy Warren
posted by Katy at 7:18 AM

 
Phang Nga, Thailand

My thought processes surrounding the decision to go to Phang Nga were a bit flawed. I was in a bad mood, so I wanted someplace cheap from which I could take tours and keep myself busy while not darkly pouting in my room. After seeing Phang Nga, I think I must have wanted to punish myself for some unnamed transgression.

The tragedy of Phang Nga is that its setting is beautiful. It's located in a sort of valley cauesd not by a river but by huge limestone formations covered by the usual tropical greenery and frolicking monkeys. The town itself, unfortunately, looks like it was erected in a series of long weekends in the summer of 1975 by amateur engineers using only materials rejected by Bangkok slumlords as being too ugly. Truly, it's awe-inspiring what can be accomplished in the way of eyesore development with a little concrete, some rusty iron grilles, and an utter lack of architectural imagination. Even the metal accordion doors that weren't rusty and decrepit were made to look that way by their close association with blackened, crumbling and moldy concrete walls. The sidewalks were uneven, though in Phang Nga's defense, they did lack the gaping holes descending into the dark sewer that are characteristic of Vientiane, for example.

It's not as though the leaders of Phang Nga didn't make any effort at all. The road leading into town is lovely, with a landscaped highway divider and parks along the roadside. I imagine they threw up their hands when they reached the city limits however -- basically the whole place needs to be razed so they can start over with decent materials that can stand the heat and humidity, and an architect who is willing to branch out from the three existing building plans in Phang Nga: 1. One Story Concrete Box; 2. Two Story Concrete Box; and 3. More Than Two Story Concrete Box.

The reason I had so much time to muse about Phang Nga's architecture or lack thereof was that there was virtually nothing opened when I arrived. The bus station, a couple of minimarts (including the ubiquitous 7-11), and a couple of restaurants were the sum total of the Sunday afternoon activity. Oh, and the barber shops. I neglected to mention that the primary business of Phang Nga appears to be hairdressing. All the barber shops in town were constantly full, no matter what time I walked past, and on Monday when the beauty parlors opened up I realized that this had to be the most well-shorn town in Thailand. They had a staggering number of per-capita hairdressers, none of whom appeared to have a moment's peace. My theory is that the town is so dull that its residents have adopted haircuts as a hobby. I was quite dissapointed, therefore, that I had gotten a trim in Krabi -- clearly I should have waited to deal with the experts.

In light of the feeble entertainment options Phang Nga had to offer, I immediately signed up for a one-day boat tour of Phang Nga Bay National Park and environs. This, in fact, was my primary objective on this side trip. The headline attraction of this tour was Ko Poo, aka James Bond Island, and as a bonus we were to be taken to various caves and beaches and generally tool around the National Marine Park and look at the views for the day.

To give you an idea of how depressed the tourist industry is here in Thailand, in Phang Nga there are two tour agencies, Mr. Kean and Sayan. Each have several boats and offer a couple different half, one and two-day tours, the last of which includes an overnight stay in a Muslim stilt village in the bay (I passed on this -- these floating and/or stilt villages invariably smell strongly of fish and rotting wood). On the day I went I shared the boat with just one other person, and it was Mr. Kean's only tour of the day. Sayan tours similarly had two passengers and no other tours. It's grim for the tourist economy here in post-SARS Thailand.

I was quite fortunate in my touring companion. Joe, a good looking 25 year old Irish computer programmer considerately removed his shirt almost immediately upon boarding our boat, thus substantially enhancing my view throughout the day. Just in case you are picturing me on a nice fiberglass powerboat with two massive outboard motors like I experienced when touring with Amanda and Geoff, let me remind you that now that I am alone again I have reverted to my old budget-oriented (the ungracious might say "cheap") persona. So rather than a massively powerful ocean-going speedboat, our tour was conducted on what is referred to around here as a "long-tailed boat", which is a narrow 35-foot shallow draft wooden craft with a tarp over the top to protect tourists from being burned alive. In more prosperous days it could possibly seat 10 passengers, and the driver sits on a box (of spare parts, I suspect) in the back guiding the tiller, upon which rests the massive motor, in a manner very similar to the way we drove the metal dinghy on Lake Chelan as kids. Though fortunately Mr. Kean didn't sink his. The other difference, in addition to the fact that clearly Mr. Kean had more than five horsepower to work with, was that instead of the prop dropping down right behind the boat, it was attached to an axle maybe 12 feet long -- hence the "long tail" designation -- that could be levered completely out of the water in shallow conditions.

We began by taking a circuitous route through the mangrove forest. Am I alone in finding mangroves kind of creepy? It's just not right the way they have all those insidiously twisting roots above the water line. Roots ought to be hidden like they are in northwest forests. It's unsettling to see the world upended like that, and the fact that mangroves are so dense and gnarly doesn't help matters, as it just convinces me that if I fell out of the boat I could be lost forever, unable to retrace the water route due to an abysmal sense of direction. And while in the case of the Phang Nga Bay mangrove forest we didn't actually see any creepy deadly animals or reptiles or snakes or piranhas, I always expect to see such things in these situations, as mangroves just scream "scary critters lurking" to me. Naturally, we made it through without incident.

The rest of the morning was spent motoring around the large bay, which like Halong bay, was chock full of those enormous tree-covered limestone boulders, though "islands" is of course the term used when they're sticking out of the sea. There's not a lot of beach around. The islands are steep and tall for the most part, with sheer rock faces plummetting to the watter and tiny coves leading to caves eroded away be millenia of storms and tides.

Despite my well-documented loathing of caves, I decided I didn't want to look feeble and pathetic to the cute Irishman, so I gamely tripped and slipped my graceless way through the darkness. At least these caves had a point to them -- a light at the end of the tunnel, as it were. due to what I assume to be a glorious marriage of Andaman Sea tides and the nutty geology of the region, on several islands you can walk through a cave (or sometimes boat under a huge rock face) to get to a lovely hidden lagoon with steep walls, vines, etc. All were lovely and pristine, and one was even accessorized by monkeys.

After two hours of swimming and lunching on a miniscule shell beach in a cove at the back of beyond, we were off to the tourist trap known as James Bond Island. This island, called Ko Ta Poo by the locals (though since they have a huge "James Bond Island" sign posted the distinction is a bit moot) played a role in The Man with the Golden Gun. For those of you for whom all James Bond movies run together (which would include me -- I thought I was going to the Doctor No island) The Man with the Golden Gun was the one with Mr. Scaramanga, the hit man with the golden bullets and, more interestingly, a third nipple. It also had Herve Villechaize, the guy who played Tattoo on Fantasy Island, as Scaramanga's servant.

Can you picture Tattoo bringing Mr. Scaramanga an iced drink on a chair while sitting on the beach? Well, I'm not sure if that's the island or not. It doesn't look quite the same to me, if I remember correctly, which is questionable, I admit. What I did recognize is the little tiny island (more of a large rock, really) out in front of the beach (which unfortunately contains 127 bracelet-and-tacky-shell-souvenir saleswomen). In the movie, and I'm not completely clear on this, Mr. Scaramanga has some sort of laser or ray gun or some such thing that, when you hit the power button, comes rising out of a tall rock just offshore. That rock's the James Bond Island I can actually remember from the movie. Sadly, as I write this I'm on a touristy beach island not too far away from Phang Nga Bay, and while there are plenty of cafes that play that godawful Leonardo di Caprio movie The Beach in endless rotation, none of them are considerate enough to show The Man with the Golden Gun even once to satisfy my curiosity.

Our final tour stop was to Ko Panyi, a 200 year old muslim village built on stilts in the bay. The Lonely Planet states that the village subsists primarily on fishing, but let me just say right now that as is often the case, the Lonely Planet is full of crap. I'm sure they still do fish, particularly in the rainy season, but what I witnessed was a village that had sold its soul to the tourism devil. I have been in stilt villages before in Asia, and I've never seen anything quite like this. While one side looked like a normal fishing town, that was not where we were dropped off. In fact, that side of town proved impossible to locate despite the fact that the village couldn't have had more than a couple thousand people in it. No, we disembarked on the side of the village that had been given over to brand new upscale and huge restaurants, set up to be able to serve all the passengers on several large tourist boats simultaneously. Whereas the rest of the town was the usual amalgam of brick & stucco, tin and wooden houses, these restaurants were made of the kind of gleaming logs that wouldn't be out of place in a Fisherman's Wharf type seafood restaurant. There were four of these buildings, each of which was set up to serve over a hundred people at a time. Fishing village my ass.

Behind the restaurants it was even worse. The whole village, or at least the parts of it we could get to, had been transformed into one big low-grade tourist shopping center, with one tacky souvenir stand after another punctuated by periodic minimarts selling Oreos along side the bags of dried fish. Most of the walkways between houses/shops were covered with plastic tarps, so it was basically a visit to a very dark, very tacky mall. In fact, it bore a passing resemblance to Valley North, the dark, poorly-designed and lightly-peopled shopping mall of my youth. Same indifferent shopkeepers and uninterested shoppers, too. Oh well. At least we only had to spend half an hour there, and the rest of the day was good.


Copyright 2003 Katy Warren
posted by Katy at 10:25 PM

 
Krabi, Thailand

There's not really much to say about Krabi. It's a semi-beach town (no beach but all the beach amenities like boat trips, dive shops, restaurants, guesthouses and internet outlets). I rolled in around 7:30pm in a very depressed mood, having left Amanda and Geoff at the dock at Ko Samui. For the first time I actually felt homesick, tired of Thailand and beginning to vew the entire Asia travel thing as pointless and lonely. Not a good day (you'll be happy to know that I've completely recovered from this temporary funk). The drive was comfortable, however, as I was sharing an air-conditioned minivan with just one other person, a seemingly insane bald Brit who had flown to Moscow, stayed 3 days, took the train to Beijing, stayed 3 days, took the train to Hong Kong then flew to Bangkok. I simply cannot figure out the point of this sort of travel -- he barely paused long enough to get a sandwich, or an eggroll, as it were.

At any rate, I checked in to the guesthouse affiliated with the bus company (as usual - I am so lazy in this regard) which was no doubt more expensive than necessary but had air-con and was clean. In fact it looked pretty new, which is a welcome change from some of the stained and scrotty places I've stayed in in the past.

I did very little apart from mope and sit in the air-conditioned room while in Krabi. Read books, walked around, ate, and procrastinated on the journaling. Krabi's not all bad, actually. In the absence of a beach (it is situated along a river leading to the Andaman Sea) the city fathers (or mothers, but probably fathers considering we're in Asia) have developed quite a lovely landscaped boardwalk/park along the riverside, complete with meandering brick paths, flowers and trees, and designated dog toilets. In light of the fact that all of the dogs run around loose, it's doubtful that these get much of a workout, but it's a nice gesture nonetheless. A couple of small piers are located right downtown with regular boats to Ko Phi Phi and Ko Lanta, and a floating restaurant provides a dining experience slightly more sophisticated that the usual traveler cafes in town.

Apart from the waterfront, however, the town was uninspired, with the usual abundance of concrete block architecture and approximately 387 "travel agents" selling identical boat tickets and day tours, along with serving meals of questionable quality, offering internet service at high prices, and doing laundry. To the naket eye, it seemed that perhaps 50% of the businesses in town were offering tours, and remarkably, virtually noe of them posted their prices. I can hardly express how annoying this is to me. In fact, it's the part I like least about travelling in developing countries -- constant price negotiation. Perhaps I'm not a typical tourist, but often I'll end up just not buying anything rather than go through the relentless tedium of figuring out the price of something (which generally involves talking to every vendor in the market) followed by the inevitable feeling that I've been taken advantage of in some way. I can never get in the spirit of bargaining -- I just want them to quote me a fair price, for crying out loud. But I digress. On to Phang Nga.

Copyright 2003 Katy Warren
posted by Katy at 10:25 PM

 
Ko Samui, Thailand

Ko Samui is the largest and most upscale o f the three islands of the Samui archipelago. Ko Pha Ngan, the next in line, is a mecca for budget travellers and is well known for its "Full Moon Party" bacchanal, in which grubby (I'm assuming here) backpackers get massively drunk and/or high and dance (and whatever else) on the beach all night long. Frankly sounds like a nightmare to me, as I wouldn't have fit in even as a 22 year old. Koh Tao is the third and smallest of the islands and is known not for its beaches but for the fabulous diving and snorkeling along its coral reefs.

But Samui is the island in question. Maenam, a lovely sandy crescent with coconut palms, is one of Samui's northern beaches, far less populated and developed than Chaweng on the east coast. Chaweng bears an unfortunate resemblance to Ko Phi Phi (which will be described in another post) in terms of overdevelopment, but is slightly more upscale and comes complete with traffic jams in the high season. Maenam was more our speed, certainly, and we were staying at an excellent resort with air-con bungalows and a fabulous pool, due entirely to the fact that Amanda and Geoff were paying. I owe them big time.

While I did absolutely nothing our first day, Amanda and Geoff did accomplish one thing -- both got a massage next door to our resort, where a local woman named Sao had set up a little massage/manicure/pedicure business right on the beach. Really there's nothing like a massage enjoyed on a padded platform in the shade of the coconut palms with a view across the empty beach to the Gulf of Thailand. This initial contact with the massage folks proved fruitful on our second day, when after breakfast we began exploring opportunities to do a tour of the island. Amanda had expressed strong reservations about motorbike rental, and the travel agent at the Coco Palm Resort couldn't take us around until the following day. Since Amanda and Geoff were of the opinion that Sao could be the font of all Samui knowledge, we headed next door.

After three minutes of conversation and a couple of cell phone calls, we were installed in Sao's own pickup, driven by her boyfriend (whome she had forgotten would be visiting from Pha Ngan that day) and guided by Sao herself.

It proved to be an excellent day, and the commentary from Sao was far more entertaining than the average guide. First of all, she hadn't really done a proper tour of the island in some time, though she was a native. Consequently, she was constantly surprised by things she saw, peppering her conversation with "oh my God"s as she spotted a new bungalow development, hotel, or commercial street were once there were only palms and huts.

Sao's tour was also enlivened by many gory tales of the island's murders, grisly deaths, and hotel ghosts. We drove past a bend in teh road where she had seen a body, and were told the sad tale of the German who had killed his 4-year-old son, wrapped him and the windows and doors in plastic to delay discovery, and fled the country. She described how in the days before organized tourism foreigners who found their way to Samui would be robbed and murdered by the locals, never to be seen again. Probably not a history that's played up in recent tourist brochures.

Sao's highly complicated personal life was perhaps the most intriguing thing about the day, however. She had never been married, but had two kids by a guy who was terminally unfaithful. She was something of an outcast in her respectable, upscale, and very Catholic family. They considered her entrepreneurial beach massage and roving souvenir sales businesses to be highly suspect at best. Massage doesn't only have the reputation it does among Farang -- respectable Thais share the view that it's largely based on prostitution in Thailand. Not the sort of career a well-brought-up Catholic girl should undertake.

Then a year or two ago she began to build a house, and everything was going wrong. As the house was being constructed on land purchased from a Buddhist temple, she was advised to make peace with the spirits by becoming a nun for two weeks. Though this seems a bit weird to western ears, it's not at all unusual in Thailand to become a buddhist monk or nun for a couple of weeks or months. The problem for Sao was that in order to become a nun she would have to shave her head, which would be bad enough in itself, plus it made the problem of discovery by her parents a real possibility. AS devout Catholics, she felt she would probably be effectively kicked out of the family if they discovered her flirtation with Buddhism.

What followed was pure farce. For three months Sao holed up at her apartment in town, hiding from her family. She told her mother that she was visiting her sister in Germany, and her sister in Germany that she was waitressing in Malaysia. After an additional three months of travelling in Myanmar and Malaysia, she returned to Samui with at least a respectable length of hair, and the secret persists to this day.

Now that I've skimmed through what I've written about our actual tour of the island, I can see it's pretty boring to read in its present form (my fault -- we had a great time, but I didn't give any thought to the writing on this one), so that's all you get on Samui. Here's the rundown of our tour and our remaining few days, and you'll just have to imagine how entertaining the text might be if I actually wrote it well: jungle temple/blessing from abbot/waterfall/king cobra farm/monk mummy with sunglasses/obscene rock formations/Chaweng shopping district/Big Buddha/double-engine speedboat/snorkeling/An Thong National Marine Park/cave (did not enter)/massage/endless hours by the pool. Now, isn't it more fun to use your imaginations? I may never write again.

Copyright 2003 Katy Warren

posted by Katy at 1:31 AM

 
This would be where I should be writing about Bangkok, since we spent 3 days there, but I haven't actually written anything yet. Since I'll be back up there at the end of June, I'll write about it then.
posted by Katy at 1:31 AM

 
Ayuthaya, Thailand

Ayuthaya is Thailand's other major ruin site, like Sukhothai a UNESCO World Heritage site, but in general is far more visited as it is within day-trip distance of Bangkok.

Our arrival in Ayuthaya was somewhat inauspicious in a completely different way than Sukhothai. Somehow we had been finagled in to buying a ticket on a private bus that claimed to be visiting Ayuthaya, but in actuality was only planning to wave hello from a safe distance. Perhaps not so safe for us however, as we were essentially dropped off on the side of the freeway with a remarkably speedy offloading of our luggage. On one side of us there were cars and trucks screaming by, on the other a small platoon of motorbike drivers in numbered vest lounging in a large wooden kiosk.

Now, I may have expressed a rather cavalier attitude regarding riding on the back of motorbikes (apart from the accident, of course), but I had two good reasons for wanting to avoid this particular motorbike trip. First, we were all carrying overloaded backpacks and daypacks (or at least mine was overloaded) and even in Saigon where the motorbike drivers usually keep the speed down under 25 mph I call cabs in these situations. Keeping one's balance on the back of these things is challenging enough without the added dimension of holding one bag in front of you while carrying 25 pounds on your back. The other reason was the whole reporting-back-to-mom-and-dad issue. I had been making an extra special effort to make my travelling style look somewhat respectable during Amanda and Geoff's visit, with the hope that they would be able to reassure the parents that I was conscientiously avoiding dangers, was staying in clean hotels, and wasn't in danger of contracting any tropical diseases. And so far I think it was working -- I found a hotel in Chang Mai with air-conditioning, and Amanda had only felt her life threatened on two occasions during her first 5 days in Thailand, once with the demented raft pilot (clearly unjustified fears on her part) and once with some understandable concerns about the driving style of one of our bus drivers who managed to get the Thai passengers gasping. I was sure Amanda getting on the back of a motorbike was a bad idea, as it would pretty much torpedo the idea I had been trying to promote that living in Saigon and/or travelling in Asia were both eminently safe enterprises. Unfortunately for my master plan, there were no other options available, so we each climbed aboard, bags in hand and on back.

The ride was, if anything, worse than I imagined possible. Whereas motorbike drivers in most southeast Asian urban settings move at a fairly decorous pace, if for no other reason than to maintain their vehicles in their uncrashed conditions, I neglected to factor in the fact that we were located on the freeway. Really it's a miracle I didn't just topple right off the back at the speed we set off, particularly considering I'm not exactly graceful and well-balanced with a backpack on. You wouldn't have guessed it from the way they were loitering and smoking on the side of the road, but these guys drove like they were the subjects of a police chase, alternating terrifying speeds with reckless weaving around more law-abiding traffic. We arrived at the guesthouse pale and slightly shaky, committed to avoiding any and all future motorbike trips in Thailand.

The PS Guesthouse, I must say, was not reassuring. It wasn't so much the rooms themselves, which were spartan but adequate, but the atmosphere of the place was just plain weird. From the outside it looked perfectly normal, a large converted family home on a sidestreet with a big yard. It was managed by a retired Thai schoolteacher who was helpful, if not friendly, and who gave Amanda an impressive rundown of potential routes and sights complete with numerically coded postcards and multiple colors and lines drawn on a city map. I think even Powerpoint and a laser pointer couldn't have improved this presentation.

There were several other people who haunted the place, all of whom seemed to work there but none of whom did any actual work while in view. There was a Chinese Thai fellow who liked to talk about his Japanese girlfriend (possibly fictional), an older Thai man who owned the place and whose practical function was to make change, and a 50ish foreigner of undefinable English-speaking origin who floated though in a drug-addled haze. Clearly he had been in Thailand way too long.

In the foyer there was a large black and white photo of a smiling 70's era foreigner with his name and dates of birth and death below it. The odd thing about it (in addition to its very presence) was that the month of death was covered by a big piece of tape with "April" written over it, so clearly there had been some confusion surrounding the matter.

In the communal bathrooms (which were not as clean or mosquito-free as one would have wished for) helpful signs had been posted instructing visitors to "Pour Water in Toilet After You Shit", and that the deep water reservior was not for bathing. We were informed that we could not order pancakes for breakfast because she (the ex-teacher) didn't feel like cooking them that day. All in all, a substantial downgrade from our previous lodgings in Sukhothai. Fortunately we had already decided to spend only one night in Ayuthaya.

The most noticeable difference between Sukhothai and Ayuthaya was that rather than an open park-like setting for the ruins, Ayuthaya remains a thriving city with over 60,000 residents, and the ruins just form part of the cityscape. Ayuthaya as a capital of Thailand lasted for longer than Sukhothai and the kimgdom controlled from there stretched across Asia. From 1350 to 1767 it was the capital of Siam, held sovereignty over present-day Laos, Cambodia and Myanmar in addition to Thailand, and at one point boasted a million inhabitants. Alas, 400 years of art and culture went up in smoke in 1765 when the loathed Burmese waged a two-year battle for Ayuthaya, systematically destroying everything of value -- temples, manuscripts, sculptures, and more. This ruthless destruction was almost painfully pointless, as the Burmese were unable to maintain control and a new Thai king took over just two years after the city fell.

The Thais are not exactly known for their subtlety in designing and decorating religious edifices. Temples and chedis (pointy memorial monuments) in current use are wildly detailed, with loads of gold and silver and other shiny stuff, intricate decoration on eaves and all surfaces, relief carvings, mosaics, flowers, and religous murals, most using combinations of colors that no self- respecting interior designer would even use in the same building, let alone the same surface.

Thai ruins, then, which have been burned and hammered and looted within an inch of their lives, are something of a welcome contrast, if not a relief, from the impressive eye-searing gaudiness to which tourists become accustomed. Most buildings in Ayuthaya were built with brick covered by some form of plaster then gilded or decorated according to the fashion of the day. What remains today are the bare bones of these gigantic structures -- brick pillars and crumbling walls enlivened by long stone carvings, enormous domed or conical chedis with various architectur4al details and gargoyles, and lots and lots of buddhas. As the Burmese hordes were rather overly thorough in their sacking of the Siamese capital, there are even more numerous parts of buddhas, so you will periodically walk around a temple to find a low wall topped by tens of torsos, with arms and heads observing from the floor below.

The three of us spent an afternoon and morning wandering around town, first on foot then, foolishly, on bicycles. We determined quickly that biking around a protected parkland is a completely different proposition from the stress of riding crappy bikes with bad brakes in semi-urban traffic. After we felt sufficiently templed out, we packed up and headed to Bangkok.

Copyright 2003 Katy Warren


posted by Katy at 2:48 AM

 
Sukhothai, Thailand

Our arrival in Sukhothai was a bit grim -- absolutely pouring down rain and we were instantly beset by guesthouse touts. Given the fairly remote location of the one Amanda had pre-chosen, I was on the verge of taking one of the touts up on his offer. However, we went with our original plan, and it was totally worth it, even more because of the rain.

The Number 4 Guesthouse featured lush landscaping, individual en-suite bungalows for guests, and a two-story main building of dark wood with an open-air dining area on its upper floor. From the main building was a winding gravel and brick path among potted palms, bamboo and other plants. But the genius of the Number 4 was in all the thoughtful details that gave the place a feeling of exotic tropical homeyness. The walls, both inside and on the deck of each bungalow, were decorated with woven wall hangings, carvings, hats, paintings, and anything else that might look good. Walls were covered with woven mats and fluorescent lamps were semi-hidden in terra-cotta fish, old gas lanterns, and decorative clay pots.

Only major problem with the Number 4 -- critters. In my room, crickets flew around above the mosquito net, and ants made themselves at home in the bathroom. Amanda and Geoff had it somewhat worse -- lots of ants, birds freaking out every time they left their porch, and a full-sized lizard fell out of Geoff's shorts when he went to put them on. Now that's a wake up call.

Our second day in Sukhothai dawned. That was a good thing, really -- it may not have been the most salubrious weather in the world (about 137 degrees with 99% humidity) but it wasn't raining, so we had few complaints. Well, a few, but who can help it in that kind of heat?

We caught a truck to the ruins 20 km away and rented bicycles. I'm pretty sure those bikes, with their one speed and dodgy brakes, weren't quite up to Geoff's competitive mountain biking standards. In fact, the one time he tried to do something the slightest bit adventurous ("showing off for the camera" you might call it) he managed to disengage the chain. Feeble as these bikes were, however, they were an excellent way to get around ruins that dot an area of about 100 square km.

Sukhothai was a (relatively) unified Thailand's first capital, a nd it is considered by many to be the greatest of Thai empires. The Sukhothai style of architecture and art developed during the empire's glory days of the 13th and 14th centuries, before its lands were essentially annexed by the Ayuthaya kingdom to the south through a series of political marriages, weak kings, flaking off of previously loyal principalities, and minor wars.

Today the former capital is in ruins, though unfortunately neither my guidebook nor my handy English-language brochure gives any indication how things reached that state, apart from the the passage of 600 years. It's probably safe, as in all things historical in Thailand, to blame the Marauding Burmese. Despite the crumbling state of hte buildings (that is why they call them "ruins" after all) Sukhothai has quite an impressive array of sights.

The Sukhothai kings were the first to introduce Theravada Buddhism to Thailand, and the capital reflects this strong religious bent as well as the general atmosphere of peace, prosperity and harmony that prevailed during the early years of the empire. The walled portion of hte city contains any number of ruined temples and other religious monuments built mainly in the Sukhothai lotus style but also incorporating some Khmer influences. The buddha figures are mostly smiling and happy, and the whole area is beautifully laid out in a parklike setting, well landscaped by the Thai government in cooperation with UNESCO and the Japanese. We practically had the place to ourselves (we saw only six other foreigners) and the three of us spent a delightful day tooling around the tree-lined lanes and taking photos of buddhas in all shapes and sizes, including a standing version that had to be five stories high. At that particular temple, some distance outside the walled city, Geoff was rather more impressed with the uneven 150 meters of stone walkway that led up the steep hill. I'm pretty sure that if he had had even a marginally better bicycle Amanda and I would still be making daily visits to a Thai hospital.

We all got out uninjured, however (apart from the usual evils of bike riding) and even managed to catch a truck back to town just a minute or two before the rain started pouring down. Of course, we did manage to get on a very slow truck, as we stopped for some time at a high school to allow approximately 87 uniformed adolescents to insert themselves in to all available airspace in our truck, including dangling out the back like "just married" tin cans.

And that's about it for Sukhothai. On to Ayuthaya!

Copyright 2003 Katy Warren
posted by Katy at 2:48 AM

 
It's my birthday today!

Yep, I'm 36, which seems quite old to me. Well, not old in the absolute sense, but it seems like I should be more settled and have more focus at the grand age of 36. I think we're all aware that I haven't much focus at this point, since I've been wandering aimlessly around Asia for several months and have never had any interest in careers that make any money. The other thing is that most of the people I meet travelling around are in their mid to late 20's, and though it isn't unusual to meet backpackers older than me, I'm tired of usually being the oldest.

And that's why today is the day I start lying about my age. I've decided that 32 is a good age -- not too outside the realm of possibility given my looks, and yet young enough to make a year of directionless international meandering look more acceptable.

So happy 32nd birthday to me! How does it feel to be the oldest sister now, Amanda?



Copyright 2003 Katy Warren
posted by Katy at 8:14 PM

 
Bangkok, Thailand

Well, in the last week we've been to Sukhothai and Ayuthaya, two cities with tons of ruins of past Thai civilizations, and we've been in Bangkok for a few days now. Unfortunately for you, I've had unprecedented access to good books, and haven't written a word in five days. Not only that, we are headed down to Ko Samui today for 5 days on the beach, which probably means even more days with no fascinating entries for you to read.

Consequently, you may want to check in next week after the family leaves and I once again have loads of alone-time with which to think and write.
posted by Katy at 7:59 PM

 
Chang Mai, Thailand

Here's the difference between what happens when I travel alone and what happens when I travel with Amanda: When by myself, I end up fending off relentless elderly Akha women selling me hideous crapola bracelets made of seeds and the remnants of Coke cans. When with Amanda, I end up at fine jewelry and precious gem outlets in which men and women in well-tailored subdued business suits shepherd us around the showrom individually in the hopes we would buy massive amounts of emerald, ruby, diamond and sapphire jewelry.

We started the day with a simple plan to visit wats and museums. While casually perusing a golden reclining buddha at our first wat, however, we met a very nice Thai man, married to a German woman, who owned a shop selling Thai goods in Cologne. He made some recommendations as to how we should spend the rest of our day in Chang Mai, slightly off the tourist track. So we set off in a tuk-tuk, first to an obscure wat (where a Thai-American guy recommended exactly the same itinerary to us) then to the outskirts of town where the street was lined with small "factories" and showrooms for all kinds of handicrafts and handmade consumer goods.

Chang Mai is well known in Thailand as the place you do your shopping for Thai goods of all shapes and sizes. An incredible variety of arts, crafts and gems are available at the markets and shops in the city for fairly decent prices, particularly if you're a good bargainer (which I am not, unfortunately). What we didn't know is that many of the crafts for the whole country, and indeed internationally, are produced in the Chang Mai area. Buyers from Bangkok and other tourist centers come to the factories outside the city and purchase most of the goods to be sold in their stores, including fine jewelry, carvings, lacquerware, teak and other furniture, painted umbrellas, handmade paper, and silk weaving. The Thai-American we met (who appeared to be a bit of a player) said he funds his vacations by coming to Chang Mai, buying several thousand dollars worth of rings, bracelets, etc., and selling them for double the price to jewelers in Australia.

We started at the top -- International Gems, and we could see immediately that we had ventured far from backpackerland and we were seriously underdressed for the outing. Our tuk-tuk brought us through the large iron gates to a circular carpeted protico with elegantly suited men waiting to help us out and to the door. The towering doors opened simultaneously and we were handed off to a matched pair of gorgeous Thai girls in native silk dresses, who made polite small talk in English as they ushered us through the black marble lobby, where we were met by a gray-suited team of salespeople. With choreographed grace, one took over Amanda and Geoff and the other (clearly the junior partner, poor girl) was stuck with me. After a quick tour through the working area where settings were being crafted, gems set, and final products polished, we were guided into the showroom, a massive and elegant high-ceilinged space featuring ver a hundred display cases filled with some of the loveliest jewelry I've ever seen. More sales teams loitered around the perimeter, as besides us there was only one other pair of potential buyers in evidence.

I tried on loads of unaffordable things, and ended up buying a ring with sapphires set in silver (the 18 carat gold was way too expensive, no matter how much I coveted it) and Amanda got a much nicer one in gold. Seems like whether the salesperson is an evil Akha crone selling rocks and seeds or a custom-suited woman selling sapphires, I'm a weak-willed consumer.

After escaping International Gem with only a slight dent in the Visa, we had lunch, went to an outlet that made homemade paper and handpainted umbrellas (I was able to resist -- way too hard to pack), and barely escaped buying a $2800 silk oriental carpet. That Kashmiri salesman was very convincing -- I almost came to believe I would be committing some sort of horrible crime against art by not buying one. His presentation was incredible, though I suspect he has tailored his salespitch after watching US latenight infomercials. After the extremely informatative demonstration on how they make the carpets, he started using various implements -- shoes, sharp things, a lighter, for crying out loud -- to show us how hardy his carpet was. I'm sold. Next time I have an extra $2800 lying around, I'm getting a silk Kashmiri carpet.

So now I'm pledging to start spending less money in Thailand, so don't anybody expect any Thai gifts. I'm running through my budget way too fast -- Amanda is a very bad influence.

Copyright 2003 Katy Warren

posted by Katy at 3:00 AM

 
Chang Mai, Thailand

For Amanda and Geoff's second day in Chang Mai, we decided to eschew culture and dignity and embrace Thailand's cheesiest offering -- the Elephant Ride. But just an elephant ride wasn't nearly cheesy enough for us -- for about $16 we piled into a minivan and managed to complete four cheesy tourist activities in a single action-packed day.

First, the minivan. We were picked up at 8:30 and introduced to the seven other tourists. Remarkably, five of them were American (there are few Americans travelling these days in Asia) and even more remarkably, four of these were from Washington state (Anderson Island. I had never heard of it, but from their description it sounds like a rural flyspeck of an island in Puget Sound south of Takoma). Anyway, 10 tourists, seven from Washington state, and an eighth from Washington DC. Very strange.

After an hour's drive south, our first stop was the elephant ride, or "Elephant Trek" as they bill it on all the tour posters around town. Geoff, cynic that he is, thought this would be one of those deals where they put you on top of the animal, snap a photo, and call it a day, but we did in fact go on an honest to God elephant ride, sitting in pairs on a series of five lumbering elephants, precariously balanced on an inadequately cushioned metal chair. Thankfully, the ride was uphill through the tropical forest, as we learned to our terror that "downhill elephant ride" effectively means "hold on for dear life or you will slide right off". The ride was fun but uneventful, so there's not too much to say, but I do have Five Fun Facts About Thai Elephants as a result: 1. They start "training" for work at age 7, and live to about age 85; 2. An elephant eats one tenth its body weight per day, so a one ton elephant is eating about 200 lbs of greenery daily; 3. The elephants are set free to roam the forest and graze at night, and are rounded up each morning by elephant keepers who wander around and listen for their bells; 4. Many elephants have half their tusks missing. This reportedly makes it easier for them to work (and surely makes it safer for their handlers), and the ivory is made into art objects for the Asian market, since it's illegal to import it into most western countries; 5. Elephant crap is HUGE! Seriously, it's enormous, frequent, and pungent. Do not stand behind an elephant.

After the elephants we hiked up the hill to Cheesy Activity #2 -- A Visit to a Traditional Hmong Village. I suppose the billing might be true if in fact most Hmong villages are set up like malls. I've been to a number of Hmong villages in Vietnam and Laos, and this was the least "traditional" yet. Not too many people around, apart from the women selling handcrafts and Cokes. I did manage to do an ultra cheesy thing while in the village -- I paid five baht (15 cents) to shoot a homemade crossbow at a piece of fruit attached to a target that was thankfully not placed very far away. You'll be happy to know I hit it. I may have found my new calling -- professional fruit markswoman.

After another cheesy village (Karen Tribe this time, and this one had a gorgeous house made entirely of teak, for crying out loud. I don't think these one-day tours even try for authenticity anymore) we hit Cheesy Activity #3, which really wasn't so cheesy, but a bit cliched. A visit to a waterfall. In normal circumstances we would have been encouraged to frolic and soak ourselfves, but as it was pouring down rain most of us made do with taking some damp photos and cleaning the caked mud from the Karen Village off our shoes.

Our fourth activity was arguably the cheesiest of them all -- a Bamboo Raft Ride down a small Thai river. You may be thinking that this couldn't possibly be as cheesy as an "Elephant Trek", but I would have to disagree. In Thailand, elephants really were used for transportation historically, and are still used to work the fields and various other useful endeavors even today. So an elemphant trek isn't so farfetched if you look at it in context. By contrast, I would be willing to bet that bamboo rafts were never a primary means of transportation at any time in Thailand. I'm not saying they never existed, but since they'd be hopelessly inefficient in transporting goods, it seems highly unlikely that they were at all common before the Age of the Backpacker descended upon the country.

The setup was thus: one long raft, made of 7-8 bamboo logs lashed together with pieces of old tire; one thai raft driver standing up front with a long pole, most either smoking or drinking Thai whisky in preparation; one foreigner raft driver standing at the back, given no training and a pole so short as to be close to useless; and 2-3 foreigner passengers sitting in the middle, sometimes on a wooden crossbar, sometimes wallowing in a few inches of water.

On our raft, Geoff was our rear driver, and every once in a while his pole could actually touch bottom. Up front our Thai driver, if not drunk, was extremely high-spirited. Amanda and I, seated side by side in the middle of the raft, were attempting to stay as dry as possible given that it was raining and we were floating on a very sketchily constructed bamboo raft less than an inch above the murky brown river water. Sadly, our efforts were destined to be thwarted.

It seems our fart driver was quite the practical joker, which perhaps inevitably led oto very wet reprisals from his victims. Our driver would maneuver over near another raft then step on it, practically sinking it on one side and causing its passengers to partially submerge and/or fall off. The other drivers tended to ignore him, probably a bit tired of his antics after a full day of carting foreigners down this stretch of river, but the newly-drenched passengers on the other rafts were rather laess tolerant. Soon we were victims of crossfire in a war between our driver and a cop from Pierce County, each doing everything possible, including hand to hand combat, to capsize the other's raft. Despite our valiant efforts to hold on, both Amanda and I were drenched by the end of the ride. Don't get me wrong -- it did turn out to be lots of fun, but the ride back to Chang Mai in wet clothes was decidedly uncomfortable. Actually, the whole day was fun, though I'm pretty certain Amanda would have skipped the raft, if given the option. Hooray for Cheesy!

Copyright 2003 Katy Warren

posted by Katy at 2:38 AM

 
Chang Mai, Thailand

Before Amanda and Geoff arrived I gave some thought to how to keep them entertained in Chang Mai, and I couldn't help but notice all the signs around the city advertising the weekly Muay Thai, or Thai boxing matches. In orther words, Friday Night Fights, Thai style. It seemed like it would be right up Geoff's alley, as an afficionado of Asian movies and a male besxides. As for myself, I figured I could sit through anything for two hours, and could leave if things got too bloody. As it happened though, it was interesting and impressive for all of us.

Muay Thai is not like American boxing, which is probably a good thing since I don't care for that sport at all. It is similar in some ways -- they fight in a roped ring, they wear shiny shorts and boxing gloves, and compete in a series of three minute rounds, but in Thai boxing they don't merely pound the bejesus out of eachother with their fists, they also use feet, knees, elbows, and aren't above tripping their opponent to get him to the mat. And whereas in Vegas it would be common to see 250 pound behemoth slugging it out for millions, these guys are barefoot teenagers, skinny, unbelievably fast and flexible, and they often do it to earn money for their families. According to an American law student we met who came to Thailand to train in the sport (and lasted just two weeks), most fighters burn out before age 20.

We arrived early (as usual, I am incapable of arriving anywhere late), unaware that the real action doesn't occur until later. We were in a legitimate "stadium" rather than one of the more sketchy boxing venues available, but the setup was pretty basic: large room with concrete floors and very high ceilings, brightly lit ring in the middle, and bleachers around the perimeter that for some reason were separated from ringside viewing by 20 foot chain link fences. In the bleacher seats there were maybe 25 Thai civilians, mostly kids, and a platoon of maybe 100 military guys from the outpost next door, who marched in in matching army green t-shirts, shorts and knee socks. They enlivened things by doing chants and splitting into two rooting sections for each fight -- losing section did pushups on the bleachers.

Down in the expensive seats on the floor, each side of the ring had a slightly different setup. On the side where the foreigners massed, we had nice plastic deck chairs with arms, maybe 10 rows of them going all the way back to the fence. To our left was a section shared by foreigners, upscale Thai fans and the constantly shifting entourages of the fighters in the Red Corner. To our right was all Thais, including the Blue Corner trainers and entourages. This group was far more lively than their compatriots across the ring, possibly because they had three long uncomfortable wooden benches in lieu of nice folding chairs. Directly across from us there were no chairs, as the frantic minute-by-minute betting process and money exchange among the 40 or so Thais over there would just be hampered by the presence of seating.

There is a great deal of ritual involved with Muay Thai, and despite its violence, much of it is Buddhist in nature. The fighters enter the ring wearing their shorts, a highly decorated robe showing what boxing school or club they're from, and a modified headband that looks like a stringless squash racquet with tassels on the handle. From their respective corners, the fighters remove the robe and slowly walk around the ring, right had always touching the top rope, and slightly bowing as they touch their forehead to each corner mat. After the perimeter walk, they wander aimlessly around the middle for a while, studiously ignoring the other guy, then each does a salaam-style full bow and starts some weird stretches and Native American ritual dance moves. When both are done, a trainer for each comes up and annoits the fighter with water, prays with him briefly, and removes the squash racquet hat. This whole routine takes about five minutes -- in one case about twice as long as the fight itself.

Our first two fights were Thai rookie league -- 57 pound fighers who looked about 9 or 10 years old. Muay Thai is a hard core sport, however, and they weren't pulling any punches. They were dancing around the ring, almost in perfect step with the snake charmer music coming from the 4-man band, and were incredibly quick with the kicks. Geoff was certain that any one of them could kick his ass.

Naturally, the older fighters were even scarier, as they were bigger, stronger, and could hit harder, so much so that you could hear the sickening thud when a particularly good move was made. The three of us were sitting in the front row (ringside seats!) but we had carefully checked for any signs of dried blood spatter before we sat down. There wasn't a whole lot of blood involved, actually, but I'm willing to bet all of those guys were seriously hurting after those matches.

Although the kids only fought three rounds each, the older fighters (still no older than early 20's) went five unless there was a knockout, something Amanda and I were rooting for, as it would move us more swiftly through the long list of fights. Between rounds trainers did the usual dousing with ice water and quick massage of limbs, but often started with the odd practice of bodily picking the fighter up so he could shake his legs out. Very strange looking once the fighters were bigger.

Although it was all very interesting, after five or six fights I was ready to go, but we wanted to wait for the big exhibition event, in which Paolo, a 132 pound Italian idiot, was to have gotten the snot kicked out of him by a Thai boxer. Unfortunately Paolo appeared to have backed out at the last minute, so we headed home, though I think Geoff could easily have stayed to the end. Amanda, on the other had, was falling asleep despite the incredible noise. Even Thai boxers can't fight jet lag.

Copyright 2003 Katy Warren

posted by Katy at 4:08 AM