A brief email from a beautiful secluded beach on Thailand wishing you all a very merry christmas and happy new year.
It's very very strange being away from home for Christmas - first time ever. It's made odder but also easier by Christmas not being made a massive thing here and it being scorchingly hot. I've met up with an old SAC colleague and two of her friends for the next week, so it's nice not being alone for the 'festive' season. I treated myself to peanut butter and marmite on toast for breakfast (I knew it was worthwhile bringing the marmite all the way from home with me) and bought myself some stocking fillers for the rest of the day (chocolate money, chocolate, an apple, chocolate, and sweets. Oh, and chocolate). This evening, our guesthouse is putting on a big christmas buffet of seafood, salads and other delicious food, which will be really nice.
Thailand's one hell of a culture shock after Laos. So many tourists, so western. It's very strange... The 48 hour journey down here was interesting. I thought I'd got away from buses full of puking people when I left Laos - the roads are so winding there and the locals don't go on buses very often - until I got on the catamaran to Koh Pha Ngan. My god, almost half of them were doing some spectacular hurling and it was incredible to watch the ripple effect as the chunder got passed around the boat. Hee hee...
Monday, December 25, 2006
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Festivities
(On the train Nong Khai - Bangkok)
The landscape of SE Asia, and Thailand in particular, has now become so familiar to me that I've could easily believe this train ride is my annual christmas trip home. I have to keep catching myself and reminding me that it's not, that I'm a long way from home and that there will be no daddy or Kathy waiting at the other end with a big grin, kiss and hug to pick me up.
This is the first time ever I've not been with my family for Christmas; it's also the first time we'll not all be together for it. It's the first time in 6 years I've not prepared for it with mulled wine and home baking with Carla, and it's the first one in god knows how long that I won't have been involved in some way in some amateur musical christmas performance. It'll be only my second hot Christmas in 25.
I'm upset not to be at home for it, but then I'll spend this one in Thailand, on a beach on a holiday in the middle of my travelling. I won't be alone, thanks to an old SAC mate, and for the same reason I get to give a few presents. And it doesn't really feel like christmas anyway, so it might not be as hard as it could be.
I'm devestated and excited all rolled in to one.
The landscape of SE Asia, and Thailand in particular, has now become so familiar to me that I've could easily believe this train ride is my annual christmas trip home. I have to keep catching myself and reminding me that it's not, that I'm a long way from home and that there will be no daddy or Kathy waiting at the other end with a big grin, kiss and hug to pick me up.
This is the first time ever I've not been with my family for Christmas; it's also the first time we'll not all be together for it. It's the first time in 6 years I've not prepared for it with mulled wine and home baking with Carla, and it's the first one in god knows how long that I won't have been involved in some way in some amateur musical christmas performance. It'll be only my second hot Christmas in 25.
I'm upset not to be at home for it, but then I'll spend this one in Thailand, on a beach on a holiday in the middle of my travelling. I won't be alone, thanks to an old SAC mate, and for the same reason I get to give a few presents. And it doesn't really feel like christmas anyway, so it might not be as hard as it could be.
I'm devestated and excited all rolled in to one.
Speak English?
Something strange is happening to my spoken English as a result of being in SE Asia. It's ok when talking to fellow native speakers, but as soon as I speak to a local I find myself uttering the likes of 'Where toilet?', 'Bus when?', usually accompanied by mad flailing and gesturing.
I've discovered they simply don't understand me if I throw in excess words such as 'Where is the toilet?' or 'When does the next bus leave?'. I've become trilingual in English, Dutch and SE Asian English. Oh, and my non-verbal communication is coming on in leaps and bounds too.
I've discovered they simply don't understand me if I throw in excess words such as 'Where is the toilet?' or 'When does the next bus leave?'. I've become trilingual in English, Dutch and SE Asian English. Oh, and my non-verbal communication is coming on in leaps and bounds too.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Michel
Most of the travellers I meet on the road are nice, a good chat at least. I meet the odd gem, who you click with, sometimes I meet real weirdos and nutters. Every now and again, I meet downright unpleasant, self-absorbed characters.
Such is Michel. We met in a group over a campfire stoked in an old US bomb casing in Phonsavan, Laos, then shared the same tour group and bus rides over the next couple of days. Michel's face is set in a permanent frowl or scown, and he spends most of his time making obnoxious, inappropriate comments while his equally sullen wife hops around shoving her camera in people's faces without asking (because apparently it's ok to do that in India, where they live).
Michel specialises in asserting to know a little bit about everything, assuming you know nothing, and then taking every opportunity to loudly proclaim his wisdom. He also specialises in conspiracy theories and stories of corruption. For example, our tour guide's asking me how I plan to get to Malaysia became Michel enlightening us as to how the Indians had lined their pockets after the tsunami. When sharing rice wine with a Laos family, he went on for ages about how it wasn't that strong; he then aggressively refused more, explaining that he's not used to alcohol because it's banned in India, but being from the UK I'd be alright because I sit around drinking all day normally.
He's French, but that really doesn't acquit him.
Such is Michel. We met in a group over a campfire stoked in an old US bomb casing in Phonsavan, Laos, then shared the same tour group and bus rides over the next couple of days. Michel's face is set in a permanent frowl or scown, and he spends most of his time making obnoxious, inappropriate comments while his equally sullen wife hops around shoving her camera in people's faces without asking (because apparently it's ok to do that in India, where they live).
Michel specialises in asserting to know a little bit about everything, assuming you know nothing, and then taking every opportunity to loudly proclaim his wisdom. He also specialises in conspiracy theories and stories of corruption. For example, our tour guide's asking me how I plan to get to Malaysia became Michel enlightening us as to how the Indians had lined their pockets after the tsunami. When sharing rice wine with a Laos family, he went on for ages about how it wasn't that strong; he then aggressively refused more, explaining that he's not used to alcohol because it's banned in India, but being from the UK I'd be alright because I sit around drinking all day normally.
He's French, but that really doesn't acquit him.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Photos: North-west Laos
Here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/oddballproductions/sets/72157594449581611/
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Photos: First week in Laos (incl. Gibbon Experience)
Hurray, camera is fixed so here's the first batch of Laos photos for you:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/oddballproductions/sets/72157594435576064/
Laos (group email)
As usual, I have no idea where I last left off, so I'll just start in Laos. Warning, it may become long and rambling.
I've been here 2 weeks, I wish I could stay at least another two, if not more. It is absolutely my favourite place so far - probably mainly due to a combination of beautiful beautiful scenery and the fact that there are so much fewer tourists here than in the other 3 countries I've been to so far. It's so good to go to places with no internet, no phones, no electricity even (except for 3 hours on a generator each evening). I've spent a lot of time sleeping in basic bamboo huts, reading by candle light, taking cold showers in outhouses, and eating a lot of noodle soup and sticky rice.
I started with the Gibbon Experience - essentially a three day jungle trek where you stay in high up treehouses and the only way in is on a zipwire. It is one of the best examples of an ecotourism project I've seen so far, with the local villages fully involved and employed in it and taking real ownership of it. It's also a great experience for the discerning tourist, as you can see a fair amount of wildlife (I'm afraid I only heard gibbons) and it's very very isolated. It got a bit dramatic when one of the lads dislocated his shoulder on day 2 and we had to figure out a way to get him out of the jungle. Nearest car was a 3 hour trek away and wouldn't actually be there for 12 hours, and then it was a 3 hour drive to the hospital. It took a whole litre of 70% Lao Lao whisky, the only painkiller about, to get him to sleep through the night.
The next week was spent travelling with 2 ozzie girls I met on the Gibbon Experience and we headed north through some more touristically deserted towns of Laos. Muong Ngoi was the best - only vehicles there are boats and it's one of the 'three hour electricity' places. I walked a couple of hours to a little isolated village and spent one night there as well, which was a brilliant case of 'how to communicate with people with NO English whatsoever'. Then on to a 6-hour boat trip down the most gorgeous stretch of river in the country.
Culture shock hit in Luang Prabang in the shape of a beautiful but very touristy town after. But they have good homemade cake and yoghurt and exquisite barbequed fish, not to mention a fun cooking course and riverfront fruit shake shops.
And now I'm in the north-east, running out of time but looking forward to coming back. I'm visiting some of the secret war sites (the US secretly and illegally bombed the area in the 60s and 70s, the most bombs per capita dropped ever in the history of warfare) and enjoying a rather brisk (freezing cold) climate before heading back south to Thailand. I'm going to spend Christmas on the Thai islands with an old SAC colleague before an elephant course and then on to Malaysia.
I've been here 2 weeks, I wish I could stay at least another two, if not more. It is absolutely my favourite place so far - probably mainly due to a combination of beautiful beautiful scenery and the fact that there are so much fewer tourists here than in the other 3 countries I've been to so far. It's so good to go to places with no internet, no phones, no electricity even (except for 3 hours on a generator each evening). I've spent a lot of time sleeping in basic bamboo huts, reading by candle light, taking cold showers in outhouses, and eating a lot of noodle soup and sticky rice.
I started with the Gibbon Experience - essentially a three day jungle trek where you stay in high up treehouses and the only way in is on a zipwire. It is one of the best examples of an ecotourism project I've seen so far, with the local villages fully involved and employed in it and taking real ownership of it. It's also a great experience for the discerning tourist, as you can see a fair amount of wildlife (I'm afraid I only heard gibbons) and it's very very isolated. It got a bit dramatic when one of the lads dislocated his shoulder on day 2 and we had to figure out a way to get him out of the jungle. Nearest car was a 3 hour trek away and wouldn't actually be there for 12 hours, and then it was a 3 hour drive to the hospital. It took a whole litre of 70% Lao Lao whisky, the only painkiller about, to get him to sleep through the night.
The next week was spent travelling with 2 ozzie girls I met on the Gibbon Experience and we headed north through some more touristically deserted towns of Laos. Muong Ngoi was the best - only vehicles there are boats and it's one of the 'three hour electricity' places. I walked a couple of hours to a little isolated village and spent one night there as well, which was a brilliant case of 'how to communicate with people with NO English whatsoever'. Then on to a 6-hour boat trip down the most gorgeous stretch of river in the country.
Culture shock hit in Luang Prabang in the shape of a beautiful but very touristy town after. But they have good homemade cake and yoghurt and exquisite barbequed fish, not to mention a fun cooking course and riverfront fruit shake shops.
And now I'm in the north-east, running out of time but looking forward to coming back. I'm visiting some of the secret war sites (the US secretly and illegally bombed the area in the 60s and 70s, the most bombs per capita dropped ever in the history of warfare) and enjoying a rather brisk (freezing cold) climate before heading back south to Thailand. I'm going to spend Christmas on the Thai islands with an old SAC colleague before an elephant course and then on to Malaysia.
Monday, December 18, 2006
I never expected in Laos...
... to have to help try and relocate someone's shoulder.
... to wait for a bus for 24 hours in a roadside village in the middle of nowhere.
... to find so many oranges, 10 types of eggplants, 30 types of sticky rice in over 10 colours.
... to buy candles.
... to share my toilet and shower with a duck and a chicken.
... to eat such good cakes and home made yoghurt.
... to be SO cold in parts of it I need my thermals and earmuffs.
... to travel 7 hours sitting on a sack of rice.
... to discover that, as I'm able to count in Thai, I can also count in Laos.
... to return to sitting drinking rice wine with a group of Vietnamese.
... to do a cooking course Jamie Oliver has also been on.
... to find another 4 types of pick-up taxi.
... to find a restaurant serving fried cow dung.
... to discover the horrors of a secret bombing campaign conducted by the US.
... to adore the country and people so much I don't want to leave and am already trying to figure out when I can come back for more.
... to wait for a bus for 24 hours in a roadside village in the middle of nowhere.
... to find so many oranges, 10 types of eggplants, 30 types of sticky rice in over 10 colours.
... to buy candles.
... to share my toilet and shower with a duck and a chicken.
... to eat such good cakes and home made yoghurt.
... to be SO cold in parts of it I need my thermals and earmuffs.
... to travel 7 hours sitting on a sack of rice.
... to discover that, as I'm able to count in Thai, I can also count in Laos.
... to return to sitting drinking rice wine with a group of Vietnamese.
... to do a cooking course Jamie Oliver has also been on.
... to find another 4 types of pick-up taxi.
... to find a restaurant serving fried cow dung.
... to discover the horrors of a secret bombing campaign conducted by the US.
... to adore the country and people so much I don't want to leave and am already trying to figure out when I can come back for more.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Banking palaver
The catastrophe of my deposit for the mahout training course in January is quite incredible and is something out of a Mr Bean show.
I initially tried to book it when I was at the centre in November. No, they said I had to email. Then they email back to tell me I have to send them a 50% deposit. So while still in Thailand, I try to get information from them on how best to get this to them. I finally hear from them a week after arriving in Laos, emailing me the details for a transfer. After much running between the two banks in Luang Prabang to figure out how it works, I decide to grin and bear the commission fee for international transfer. Only then, at 3.15pm does the teller smile sweetly and inform me international transfers can only be made before 2.30pm. It's a Friday, so I should come back on Monday when I will most likely be somewhere in Laos without a bank or internet access. The next time I'm in a city will be 23 December. A Saturday.
I will persevere though.
I initially tried to book it when I was at the centre in November. No, they said I had to email. Then they email back to tell me I have to send them a 50% deposit. So while still in Thailand, I try to get information from them on how best to get this to them. I finally hear from them a week after arriving in Laos, emailing me the details for a transfer. After much running between the two banks in Luang Prabang to figure out how it works, I decide to grin and bear the commission fee for international transfer. Only then, at 3.15pm does the teller smile sweetly and inform me international transfers can only be made before 2.30pm. It's a Friday, so I should come back on Monday when I will most likely be somewhere in Laos without a bank or internet access. The next time I'm in a city will be 23 December. A Saturday.
I will persevere though.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Muong Ngoi Neua
A place with no vehicles other than boats.
A place with one dust road with absolute ends to it.
A place with no telephone or internet.
A place with electricity, but only 6-9pm.
A place where you fall asleep at 9pm by candlelight in a hammock overlooking the river and stunning, jagged jungle mountains.
A place where you sleep in bamboo huts and eat water buffalo.
A place where you can see all the stars.
A place where all the roosters in the worls wake you up at 5am.
A place where, having been woken up by the crowing cockerels, you doze to the sound of the school's beckoning-drums.
A place where the haze doesn't lift until 11am, and the clouds stay below the peaks until at least 12noon.
A beautiful, wonderful place.
A place with one dust road with absolute ends to it.
A place with no telephone or internet.
A place with electricity, but only 6-9pm.
A place where you fall asleep at 9pm by candlelight in a hammock overlooking the river and stunning, jagged jungle mountains.
A place where you sleep in bamboo huts and eat water buffalo.
A place where you can see all the stars.
A place where all the roosters in the worls wake you up at 5am.
A place where, having been woken up by the crowing cockerels, you doze to the sound of the school's beckoning-drums.
A place where the haze doesn't lift until 11am, and the clouds stay below the peaks until at least 12noon.
A beautiful, wonderful place.
Saturday, December 09, 2006
Under construction
The road Huay Xai - Luang Nam Tha in northern Laos is an experience. It's the worst road I have ever been on; it's been under construction for 6 years and will most likely still be for at least the next six.
A 150km red gash through the landscape, it wrecks spines and covers everything along it in a blanket of red dust. Sometimes, the excavation of the hillside causes landslides that amuse the local children but set the work of the belching, thundering cranes and bulldozers back a few months. Other times, it exposes huge, magnificent abstract murals of the colourful veins of rock. It must be an amazing sight from the air.
A 150km red gash through the landscape, it wrecks spines and covers everything along it in a blanket of red dust. Sometimes, the excavation of the hillside causes landslides that amuse the local children but set the work of the belching, thundering cranes and bulldozers back a few months. Other times, it exposes huge, magnificent abstract murals of the colourful veins of rock. It must be an amazing sight from the air.
Monday, December 04, 2006
Photos: Pai
Pai is the hippiest place I have been to so far. It's beautiful, temperate in climate (read: bloody cold when the sun sets and the wind is blowing through your colander of a bamboo hut), and it's small.
I've had the fortune to have met some of the western residents, including Ben, my Israeli/American/very cool neighbour. He's been in Pai for about 2 years and refers to himself as a 'long term visitor'. He plays bass guitar in local bands, mends bikes, eats cake and chills. He speaks, like many of the long term visitors here, of a vibe that runs through Pai, a vibe that will lead you from one place to the next and you just have to follow it to end up where you want to be. They also talk of 'ordering', of 'programming' the vibe internally - in other words, make a wish and it'll come true pretty damn soon. This is their chat before marijuana, by the way.
The examples Ben has given me of this so far strike me, the ever open-minded sceptic, as being things that had pretty good odds of happening anyway. It also suggests a certain simplicity in the desires of the people living here. Possibly the reason they live here in the first place. Or maybe there is a magic to Pai. Vibe or no vibe, it's a cool place with a group of very contented people living there.
For photos of my time in Pai, go to: http://www.flickr.com/photos/oddballproductions/sets/72157594403341886/
I've had the fortune to have met some of the western residents, including Ben, my Israeli/American/very cool neighbour. He's been in Pai for about 2 years and refers to himself as a 'long term visitor'. He plays bass guitar in local bands, mends bikes, eats cake and chills. He speaks, like many of the long term visitors here, of a vibe that runs through Pai, a vibe that will lead you from one place to the next and you just have to follow it to end up where you want to be. They also talk of 'ordering', of 'programming' the vibe internally - in other words, make a wish and it'll come true pretty damn soon. This is their chat before marijuana, by the way.
The examples Ben has given me of this so far strike me, the ever open-minded sceptic, as being things that had pretty good odds of happening anyway. It also suggests a certain simplicity in the desires of the people living here. Possibly the reason they live here in the first place. Or maybe there is a magic to Pai. Vibe or no vibe, it's a cool place with a group of very contented people living there.
For photos of my time in Pai, go to: http://www.flickr.com/photos/oddballproductions/sets/72157594403341886/
Project management
Having followed the Scottish Parliament building debacle with much amusement, the Suvarnabhumi Airport - new Bangkok International - is a real peach. One of the now-ousted President Thaksin's last projects, it's been riddled with problems and corruption from the start, and is still not allowed to have an official opening until some minor issues are resolved. It's been operating since end of September though.
Minor issues such as the levels of the multi-storey carpark not having any kind of protective barrier or even raised edge to stop cars simply reversing into mid-air. Similarly, the raised walkways inside the incredible glass-domed terminal building are separated from the curved windows by at least 2 feet of thin air. And no safety railing of any description there either. Oh, and there's the small matter of cracks in the main runway. The fact that the internal signage is all over the place and staff don't have a clue where anything is either is trifling in comparison.
The old Bangkok International, now a cargo airport, has a golf course slap bang next to the runway...
Minor issues such as the levels of the multi-storey carpark not having any kind of protective barrier or even raised edge to stop cars simply reversing into mid-air. Similarly, the raised walkways inside the incredible glass-domed terminal building are separated from the curved windows by at least 2 feet of thin air. And no safety railing of any description there either. Oh, and there's the small matter of cracks in the main runway. The fact that the internal signage is all over the place and staff don't have a clue where anything is either is trifling in comparison.The old Bangkok International, now a cargo airport, has a golf course slap bang next to the runway...
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Tanlines
It's not just my skin getting funny tanlines, my clothes are getting them to. For example, the bottom section of my three-way convertible trousers is darker grey than the rest, because I rarely wear them full length. Nice.
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