Fast Forward through Thailand.

(I wrote this one and skipped a lot to catch everyone up to what I was doing at Bamboo School)

Entering Thailand by water was a chore consisting of begging Lao immigration authorities to waive the $10 exit fee and haggling with a cab to take us to Chiang Rai for less than the gross overcharge of $6 a person. We finally arrived in Chiang Rai tired, hungry and disappointed as it seemed as if it was a western strip mall. The only sights to be seen were old men clutching to their new found thai “girlfriends” and many tourists wondering why they were there. After finding no room at 3 different inns, we settled on a cheap room with a fan that resembled a dilapidated soviet bedroom more than a $5 a night suite. Karolina refused to sleep on the actual sheets, and personally, I don’t blame her.

So the next morning we packed up, found the bus to Chiang Mai in hopes that the change from R to M in the name of a city would suit us better. Chiang Mai indeed was much better, especially when we rode around on a rented motorcycle to the hills and checked out an overlooked national park and a tourist saturated golden temple. The nights were spent laughing in a local tavern at the disgusting old men picking up the ladies of the night and the awful but surprisingly welcome attempt at Mexican food.

(temple in Chiang Mai, under construction)

Chiang Mai wasn’t disappointing though. We found an excellent little hippie enclave – a supurb vegetarian restaurant/bookshop where I picked up a 1960s copy of Herman Hesse’s Steppenwolf and then somehow bought a mini laptop (which I am using right now) for super cheap. The ‘netbook’ as they say was purchased minutes before we had to be on the train to almighty Bangkok and we narrowly made it thanks to a supportive tuk-tuk driver and a lot of luck. (We literally ran for the train as it was starting to chug-chug-chug-chug, time mismanagement skills are fun)

(my new mini computer with a much needed beer on the train to Bangkok)

Bangkok got a few minutes of our attention the next day, but was limited to the area around the train station and a desperate search for coffee and something edible that didn’t involve meat with flies or “carcass like” features. Hop on a bus to Kanchaniburi, a medium sized river town that unknown to me was made famous by a movie called “The Bridge over River Kwai”. We stayed for cheap on the river, watched Sex and the City on my laptop (sad, but true) and lit paper lanterns over the river that floated into the sky… beautiful.

All this detour away from Bangkok was to visit Karolina’s friends (I knew one of them from Vietnam/Jungle Beach) who were doing a malaria project for medical school in Sai yok about an hour’s drive outside Kanchaniburi. We reached this place by motorbike, got a tour of the hospital and field malaria clinics by the intriguingly smile less Dr. Su Pat. But then we got a little tour of Bamboo School.

(candle festival in Sai yok)

A Night on the Mekong

The loud, roaring hum of the massive diesel engine in the rear of this long boat has abruptly stopped. And just when I was getting used to the intrusive sound. I know there is no village in sight, so the sudden quietness of the flowing brown Mekong River is a bit startling, especially because the stream sound is now mixed with unhappy shouts in Laotian. I see that we are shifting into the tropical trees jutting out from the shore. Again, this is startling, but not scary or frightening. A night on the Mekong wouldn't be so bad. We have Pringles (apparently a universal food, little did I know), rice, water and the disgusting Swedish salty candy fish that Karolina insists are the best thing to come out of Sweden. I remind myself that our collection of food will not be as good as the Lao/Thai cuisine we have enjoyed the past few days in Luang Prabang. That and the lovely boat toliet I so gracefully utilized earlier, will not be the most fun. WHACK! A stray stressed tree has just taken ain old German lady in the head. She is fine, but a bit startled, so now I hold back my laugh. The crazy gypsy couple chuckles for me as I smile at them. Its nice to know at least some excitement is occurring when the last 12 hours has consisted of ipod, tropical hills that make up both sides of the Mekong, learning Swedish phase by phase, and teaching Spanish - all in the name of killing time. And dodging salty Swedish fish/the Laotian man's nasty feed from behind me. Rugrugrugrugrugrugrugrugrug... ok they are starting to get the engine to turn...oh..... oh... nope. A night on the Mekong it is. I sit on the side of the boat, while everyone scurries about trying to set up makeshift camps on the boat. The captain and his family make their rounds and notify everyone of a free dinner of sticky rice in one hour as they are clearly embarrassed of their engine's sickness. For the most part, everyone stays calm, remembers that they are in Laos and this is expected. Those who booked their hotel in advance as well as paid for the next 12 hour boat tomorrow to the border of Thailand have learned their lesson: Don't book anything in advance.

Karolina and I bought one of the most impressive and large mosquito nets in a market in Luang Prabang, and we build our fort utilizing a base of life jackets as a mattress and a rain coat as sheets. Luxury living at its finest. Dinner is served in the rear of the boat and it is simple but romantic, with the splash of driftwood hitting the boat and candles illuminating the storied wood of the boat's ceiling. Light conversation ensues with our fellow stranded passengers: a 5 minute conversation with the im-going-to-be-rude-to-you-since-your-American girl from Germany, another 2 minute conversation in Vietnamese about the rain in Hanoi, and a hint that the sticky rice has other things in it from Karolina's mouth. The sleep is rough. Driftwood hitting the boat sounds like animals attacking the tarps surrounding the boat and we end up laughing about which animals these are: anacondas? elephants? tigers? pirates? We wake up to a roaring start of an engine just past dawn and head gracefully on our way to switch boats and in a few short 12 hours hit the border of Thailand...

teepee

Aun, my buddist friend.

Buddhism is a fascinating way of life. I have a surface level concept of what the religion is and I really like seeing it in devout practice in Laos and Thailand. Upon visiting a beautiful wat in central Luang Prabang (wat = temple) Karolina and I met a very, very nice, well spoken 20 year old novice named Aun. Aun explained the details of my questions about buddhism, Laos, about being a monk and a novice (many buddist laoian males spend months to years as a novice after high school to decide if they wish to become a monk and to improve their buddist practice). His english was perfect, as he talked with inquisitive foriegners like myself and had a book he studied 2 hours a day, everyday. He invited us to stay for the evening prayer/chant and to come ask him and hang out with him anytime. He really expressed the peaceful, mindfullness and calm of buddhism. He is my buddy. Hopefully he will continue with his practice, if not, he wishes to go into IT. (what? yeah, weird, especially weird when you see monks in computer stores). whoa - video! tp

Arrival in Luang Prabang

Laos airlines will never make it into the top 10 airlines of the world. Actually I wouldn't even call it an airline. Its more of a bus company that had to save up a few years to buy a few propeller airplanes and stick some stickers on the side. Turbulence that wouldn't phase a normal aircraft creates mindful death gasps when the tin can drops 30 feet 10 seconds before landing in the dark. Im on the ground now, and the airplane I am running from becomes the least of my worries as I remember I have have the equivalent of $20 USD in Vietnamese dong and a visa at the airport costs $35 USD in Lao Kip or USD. I stand in line hoping my charm will miraciously change my currency and put a smile on the face of the immigration officer a few steps in front of me. This doesnt happen. Everyone seems tired (its 7pm) from a long day of work and the clap of each light cluster is drawing nearer as the airport is closing. Laos doesnt look good. With me next in line to the disgruntled immigration man, I decide to drop my pride and start asking the few other foriengers for a loan of $35 USD until I reach an ATM. A weary but kind Canadian couple step up to the plate to save my ass, and I learn a lesson in carrying cash when entering little countries. A little tuk tuk takes me into the calm, warm village of Luang Prabang from the airport and right into the center where I easily find Karolina, my Swedish travelmate, enjoying a crepe (a relic hand and hand with the bagette left over from the colonial french) and chatting with a Hong Kong friend met on the tuk tuk into town. She makes me jealous with her stories of Vietnam Airlines jet powered planes and claims of Laos Airlines sub par safety record. We all sigh from leaving the hectic life of Vietnam and Hong Kong and melt into the buddist calm that sits over the city like a dimly lit haze. We are instantly in love with this village. Ohhhh ... Luang Prabang. The next few days pass quickly and slowly at the same time, while Karolina and I take our time relishing in coffee, dining with the sunsets on the Mekong, visiting charming buddist temples, watching the world smile after Obama is elected to office (and my tears of joy and pride at the acceptence speech), bicycle riding to markets, and shopping that requires more of waking up the shop owner to buy something, than young men hoaking worthless items at you (vietnam). We get nothing done. We love ever minute of it.