Totally unrelated photos

Here's some pictures. Let your mouth water.

Sunset over the mountains in Vang Vieng.


Veintaine at night from our Hotel. Romantic, isn't it? 6 secondsish exposure.


Phnom Penh Central Market. The architecture reminds me of similar work I've seen at a place called Tatooine.


Monkeys in Phnom Penh. Just casually hanging in the city, almost indistinguishable from people in their behavior.


Serendipity Beach in Sihanoukville

Why I like it better when Dustin pays for things

Goodness Dustin that was the strangest post we've had yet. I would have liked to add some pictures here but the computer says i have to be an administrator to plug anything in.

As close as this place is to Vang Vieng, it makes me feel a little bit better about it because the whole IDEA of being here in the first place is to do some serious vegitating in the sun. Yes, in the sun, in fact yesterday, for the first time in my life, I intentionally lay on a little chair thing in the sun, for the purpose of becoming less white. Of course that's after I used about half a bottle of sunscreen, so not alot really happened, but I can say I did it. I ended up being a real beacon for the ladies wandering the beach offering massages, all they wanted to do was rub their hands all over my beautiful white, white, oh so white skin. I'm glad I made their day.

Anyways, without further adieu, this is why I like when Dustin pays.

He's a bit like an ATM. You know, it's so EASY to take money out when you don't notice your account declining, or at least not until you check your statement/pay him back. But it's still nice, and probably makes me drink more.

I especially like it when Dustin signs into whatever guesthouse we're staying in under his name. That way they've got his passport number, not mine, so that when they catch us stealing towels and beer glasses and tell customs about it, it's him that gets held up. In fact I've generally made a point of using entirely ficticious passport numbers when I do things like rent a bicycle for the day. Not that I'm totally dishonest, but that way if it gets stolen or whatever only my conscience is at stake, not my visa.

But the number one reason that I enjoy letting Dustin pay for things is because I get the biggest kick out of watching him communicate with the locals. Which inevitably happens when he goes to pay for something. Let's face it, the dude talks pretty quickly and doesn't really slow down when he's trying to explain something. Fine with me, but it's totally priceless to see the looks on these poor people's faces when he's trying to explain Queen's frosh customs to a waiter somewhere. Or asking market vendors "Will this break?" when he's about to buy something. Reminds me of Quantum II with Gabe the Babe. There's alot of nodding going on, and everyone seems very happy, but very little understanding is actually acheived. Aaaah, Dusto, how I'll miss that in a few weeks.

So that's it. Feels a bit like the trip's winding down (boohoo!), and in a day or two we'll be heading to Siem Reap to check out the temples of Angkor. Today we're hopefully catching a boat to an island somewhere to do some snorkelling around a reef. Or so we're told. Alot of the boat rides include something they like to call 'Barraccuda BBQ' at the end, which can mean one of two things. Either it's just a name that sounds good, and we'll actually be chowing down to a full sized barraccuda. Which is great, except it means that they're in the water too...

In other news (dear Tom, Jack and Mike), I have just finished reading my first book. It's called 'Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman' and it wasn't very good.

Here's where we're staying"

N 10deg36'23.1"

E 103deg31'16.6"

Sick in Sihanoukville

In Phnom Penh.

Wake up. 6 am. Aircon, yes! Go shower. Towel off. Look outside on balcony. Smelly city, yuck! - Check on Taylor, in shower - Lots to pack! Hard things between soft, bag's been getting bigger. - Both Awake, ready to go. Outside. Find tuk-tuk < 10 seconds. Show bus tickets Haggling $2 $1 $1.5 okay. - Drive is 250 m. We were ripped off. - On the Mekong Express to Sihanoukville! Everyone bows put hands together, I feel underdressed not shaved. Bus has aircon, yes! - All types of English get on. - We leave late, as usual.

Smell - smell - smell - sleep - sleep - sleep - mountains? no, hills - sleep - sleep - sleep - bad Southeast Asian Karaoke skipping VCD - sleep sleep sleep - Awake! - Finish reading Huck Finn, good book - we stop to have holy water splashed on the bus. huh? - sleep sleep sleep - Ocean! Off bus!

tuk tuk? No! Moto? No. Moto? No! It 3 kilometers. No! No! No! We walk. Ooh, not good foh me suh. - Gotten very good at rejection. - Walk 1 km, stop. Hungry. - At Happy Herb Pizza we have non-happy soups - Full - Find two motos < 10 seconds. $1.50 to guesthouse? Fine. - vroom!

Monkey Republic? Free beer with check in? - We will walk around - Too expensive - Too far up a hill - too sketch - down dirt road, ocean getting closer! - too fancy - too fancy too! - just right - $5 for 20 m from the Gulf of Thailand - drop huge bags

Walk along the shore - 3 oceans touched for me! - stop somewhere - try to explain we want a drink made inside a coconut with umbrella, no good - drink anyway - I try to explain braces, Taylor laughs - Children stop by while we drink - You wan bracelet suh? Wanna painting suh? You buy from me! You buy from me! Play a game suh? Tic Tac Toe. You win, you get bracelet free. You lose, you buy from me? No. No. No. - Woman come by too - You want massage sir? Mista want guide book? Woman with babies and no social net. Sorry, no. - They all leave us alone. - We walk some more - White Russian, Two Angkor Beer, Pool with Cambodians - offered weed again, no thanks - walk back. - Beautiful thunder. Not feeling so good. Taylor looks at the time.

We eat supper, watch lightning. - Pretty destruction - I go to lie down on warm bed. No aircon! yuck! Old fan over bed at max. I feel sick Get up lie down yuck get up lie down go to toilet - I lose the food poisoning lottery and vomit - power goes out, wheres a flashlight. I get Taylors and drop it, breaking bulb. Find LED flashlight Good. - Go and finish vomiting - yay! feel better - Hose down bathroom with shower head - Taylor: you okay dude? - I've been better. I remember where we are - restless sleep - Power comes on again - Power goes off - I here something and throw on the lights. Nothing. - Lights off again. - There it is again. We get out the flashlight - Rats on the Roof! We check for holes - none - our toes are safe. Power comes on again. Sleep. - 8 am - I feel like shit - Power goes off, Power comes on. 10 am. Taylor already gone, go to breakfast. - Nice Cambodian waiter practices English on me. - Children, women come by. see above. No No No thanks. - Stumble back across beach - Sleep 4 hours - Taylor's back with cheap genuine fresh papayas - We go to leaky porch, watch best lightning ever seen, play card game we made up with waterproof cards - French people come by, we practice notre Francais mal - Feel like shit again - Go lie down - read book - Write this - Be better tommorow - two more days here.

The Killing, Killing, Killing Fields

As I guess everyone knows by now, we've left Laos behind and are now in the smelly, smelly city of Phnom Penh, Cambodia. The main thing we wanted to do here was check out the historical Khmer Rouge sites, which we'd planned on doing yesterday, but I spent yet ANOTHER day in bed sick with whatever the region has to offer. Thank you bacteria, how I'll miss you when I'm in Canada. Dustin has still remained completely healthy, lucky dude.

The Killing Fields and Tuol Sleng Prison are pretty well must sees if you're at all interested in the short but brutal history of the region. We hired a tuk tuk for the day, his name (the driver, not the tuk tuk) was some linear combination of Magh, Matt, and Mag. You never know, their names are so dissimilar from American names that there's no hope of guessing. He was a cool guy, and I actually think we got a bit of a deal? Though I don't think that concept exists here. After trying desperately to take us to the shooting ranges, he first took us to the Fields. Shooting ranges are these things that the army has set these up to rope in sick puppy tourists enamoured with the non-existent legal system, and who want to lob grenades or shoot rocket launchers at live cows for about $200 a pop. Anything to make a buck eh? Anyways...

The whole day was such a strange superposition of violence and calm, I don't know. I mean the Killing Fields are really beautiful, if you don't look under your feet and notice that you're walking on scraps of clothing and shards of human bone that stick out from the dirt. Birds tweet, there's lots of shade and even a nice breeze. It's pretty morbid. Ideas are very, very dangerous things.


We bought our driver a cold drink (what can we say, he was such a nice guy!) and off we went to Tuol Sleng, or S-21, which is a converted high school literally in the middle of town. Pol Pot made it the region's 'premier' detention centre for anyone that the Khmer Rouge saw as counter-revolutionary, which was essentially everyone. Anyone educated, religious, business owners, essentially everyone who wasn't a sheep that is. Same feeling as before. Birds sing, the grounds are fairly nice and well maintained, but as soon as you get inside and start looking at the cells, the pictures on the wall, and the devices you get a better idea as to what really went on here. The inmate/death toll is unreliable and depends where you get it from so I won't mention it. Gross.



I know this is a short post but there isn't much I can say to do justice to the sites. They're pretty well the grittiest places I've been on Earth. The details are pretty graphic so ask us when we get home.

Crossing a street in Phnom Penh

Bonjour, je suis un bibliotheque

Salut! We're in Vientiane, the capital of Laos, before flying out tomorrow morning. The nickname that this town has acquired, 'Little Paris', is true right down to the last detail. Here are some things that make this city French:

Expensive bakeries. You know those times when all you want for breakfast is a two-dollar cup of coffee? Well this is the right town for that. Despite the price, though, I don't mind paying a little extra somethin' somethin' for real coffee. I've been downing sludge for the past three weeks since Nescafe has some kind of monopoly...everything is instant, even when it's advertised as authentic Lao coffee, something we had heard was going to be awesome.

A little version of the Arc du Triumphe. What Paris would be complete without one? Actually, what CITY would be? It's called Patuxai, and it's pretty impressive from far away. Unfortunately it gets uglier as you get closer, a fact that the locals are well aware of. There's even a little blurb talking about its construction, which refers to the structure as an unimpressive, concrete monster. Talk about national pride. Apparently it was built with concrete donated by the USA to built a new runway, but I guess the truck didn't make it all the way to the airport.



Wine shops galore. I think I stopped in four of them before finally selecting a nice vintage of no more than a few dollars. Yep. I'm pretty cheap, I guess, but didn't want to overspend considering I wasn't sure if we even had a way to open it. Turns out that the guesthouse lent us their corkscrew, so we moved the furniture outside to our posh fourth floor balcony and went to town. We had also purchased some fruit, a baguette, cheese, and some cold meat to make a dinner of it. We abolished the wine and emptied the minibar in no time flat (yes, a MINIbar, we're living it up in this town), before going in search of more beer. I'll save you the rest of the details, but we ended up spending some time with a local at a restaurant named Chen, and I asked some ladyboys if they were men. I already knew the answer.



Ahem, so let me get back on some kind of chronological track. Our first night in Vientiane consisted of me hanging out at a French restaurant which turned out to be waaay too upscale for a smelly backpacker like myself, and Dustin running around on some kind of drunken scavenger hunt called the Hash House Harriers. You can read about it, or ask him. I noticed pretty immediately that while all the servers at the restaurant have obviously been told about western etiquette, it isn't in their culture and so the application is less than subtle. Forced actually. For example: usually when you're ready to order at a restaurant, you close your menu nonchalantly and the waiter comes over. Here, I had figured out what I wanted, and closed the menu only to be pounced on my people trying to take my order. They'd been circling like hawks, waiting for the bat-signal I guess.

But my run in with high society didn't end there. I was looking to get a foot massage at some point, so stopped into this little parlour on the corner near where we're staying. As soon as I opened the door, everyone in the lobby immmediately stood up and bowed to me! Pretty nice, I thought. I haven't decided how I want to abuse the system yet, but I think I'd like to go in and out the door until they stop standing and just look at me.

The next day we saw alot of the main touristy things, including Patuxai and Pha That Luang, the national monument to concrete and gold paint. I was a little surpried that for such an iconic temple, it wasn't more impressive or better maintained. But it was nonetheless incredible to see, in person, the same thing that's been starting at me from the cover of my guidebook for ten months.



We've also been spending a fair bit of time wandering, in true Taylor and Dustin fashion, through streets, shops, and the huge market in the centre of town called Talat Sao. It isn't as big as the one in Bangkok, certainly, but pretty huge nonetheless, and filled to the brim with silk scarves, cell phones and opium pipes. Man, some of those pipes are so amazing that both Dust and I have thought about taking up opium smoking, so we'd have a reason to buy one! I also had to fight off the urge to buy a cellphone. It's good I've got someone to talk some sense into me.



So I'll leave you with that. Next stop, CAMBODIA, and with it our return to the world of budget guesthouses and cheap food. Well that is, if we make it. Lao Airlines has the worst safety record in the world, I think, but has really stepped up since the new millenium. God save the Queen.

(sigh) Correction

Dustin, Dustin Dustin. While I suppose that ANY English spelling of Vang Vieng would technically be incorrect, the standard is Vang Vieng, not Viang Vieng. Silly Dustin-poo.

Ooh La La: Vieng Viang

Welcome to Viang Vieng, the town suddenly brought forth into a modern world by an influx of backpackers. Its honestly pretty disgusting. To find a place for dinner we simply spent ten minutes trying to find a place that wasn't playing Friends or some other American Television show overly loud, which led us too...

The Ooh La La Cafe, owned by the tiny yet energetic and friendly Hula, the owner of the place who used to work at one of the bigger bars. He suddenly became our best friend. Earlier that day we also met another San Fransiscan named Dan (shout-out) who has been hanging out with us for the last few days.

One thing leads to another among friendly and adventurous people and suddenly I find myself the next day gripping Hula from behind on his motorbike heading out to the annual "Rocket Festival" in Ban Phatang [N19deg04'22.7" E102deg25'47.9"], a TINY village 12 km north of Viang Vieng. Taylor and Dan are on another rented motorbike. Two pairs of aussies are also part of the caravan as we travel through beautiful countryside, with the weather changing every 5 minutes.


And suddenly we're at the Rocket Festival! Hula takes us for a walk down the road to a place where we imbibe Beer Lao, pictured here:

meanwhile, in the background there is a sense of foreboding excitement as temporary bamboo structures are being erected to launch the rockets from.

As we're finishing up our Beer Lao, the sound of chanting comes down the street, and our group is greeted by the friendliest people I've met on the trip yet.



Holy hotcakes batman! These Laotions are suffering from some sort of horrible skin condition, in addition to their drunken revelry. Well, that's actually wrong. They are covered in, what I think, is axle grease, a flame retardent for the operators who will actually be climbing up and lighting the giant rockets off. It actually reminds me alot of the gentian tradition back at Queen's. You decide:


After some friendly touching, we were all covered in axle grease too, and the parade to the rocket launching/party site began.There was chanting, random instruments, offers of lao low whisky. You really should have been there.

Here's a good picture of our group. Hula is the Laotian guy (obviously) on the left.

Here's a picture of Dan.

And here's a video!

Alot of the party itself defies description. There were about 10 white people there, and at least 400 Lao. There was live music in Lao, a dance floor for about 100 in the open air, Beer Lao all over the place, and rockets going off once a minute.


Let me explain a little bit about these rockets. They are cylinders about one foot and a half long, and two inches in diameter. They are tied to the top of eight foot bamboo poles, which act as launching support, which means a way of holding them safely away from yourself. Tied to the rockets themselves are tiny flowers, but I'm not sure why.

They are rockets, not fireworks, so they just shoot straight up. Actually, they are supposed to shoot straight up, but this never seemed to happen. Usually they'd corkscrew off into the jungle somewhere, and, a few times, even explode right on the launch pad. Its amazing the fun you can have when no one cares about safety standards!



Several BeerLao later (remember these are big bottles, so "several" really means "fourteen") I found myself and some of the other white folk on the dance floor. Laotian freestyle dancing goes very well with the rest of the Laotian lifestyle, meaning it requires very little effort and looks like it. It involved holding your hands out front of yourself, limply, and shifting from foot to foot. I am not exagerating this at all. If you feel creative, swivel your wrists - but for the love of god don't exert yourself. I found it pretty easy then to impress the four Laotian grandmothers I ended up dancing with. I would have whipped out the lawnmower or shopping cart, but I think that would have shocked everyone at the party; I was also thinking that would take too much effort.

Finally, it was time for us to go back to our world. We stopped 3 km north of Viang Vieng at one of the stops along the tubing route. It was a bit of a shock, because we went back to 98% white people.

I'm getting lazy, since this is a long post, so I'll just say that there was a 30 foot tall swing over the water. I followed the simple procedure.

1. Climb swing
2. Swing into water
3. Swim to Shore
4. GOTO 1

Here is Taylor performing #2:

This happened several times, and then we headed back. Our day was over.

Today, we went to a Cave south of Viang Vieng called Tham Chang [N18deg54'34.0" E102deg26'32.3"]. Here is me swimming in some cavewater:

Unfortunately, even though it is "the thing" in Viang Vieng, I'll probably miss out on tubing this time around. We're off to Vientaine tommorow.

Maybe next time.

100 Kip for your Thoughts

Dustin's actually sitting next to me making a real post, you know, pictures and all, but I felt I had a few things to comment on. We're in Vang Vieng, as you probably know, which is a major pilgrimage stop for the young and uncommitted. I'll leave the description to Dustin.

On the drive here, which, by the way, was once serious cuisinart of a bus ride, I couldn't help but notice all the water supplies in the villages we passed, marked conspicuously with 'World Vision Australia' or 'Fench Red Cross'. Now I don't know about you, but when I think World Vision I think infomercials and washed up celebrities, pleading the general, and generally apathetic public to send a dollar a day, or sponsor a child or whatnot. But I certainly don't think of the regions in the world that need World Vision support as travel destinations. To me, they are tiny, inaccessible villages with no water or medical supplies, and their total isolation is of course ultimately their downfall; nobody cares about what nobody has any contact with. Yet here we are, a bunch of walking white wallets, aboard a bus labelled 'VIP' because it has air conditioning and a toilet, driving through all these places you see on the tube. Still, though, for some reason I'm strangely uncompelled to jump out of the bus and start digging ditches or handing out all my money. I dunno, I don't really have any solutions, I figured I'd just throw it out there. I suppose you have to live it to understand it, but until then (which will never happen) I'll probably maintain the same attitude towards poverty. What possible good could my lone, American dollar, do for the global problem of poverty? Nothing, well almost nothing, but certainly not enough to justify my loss of a dollar. Call me callous.

Anyways.

Vang Vieng is known for it's almost complete lack of Lao culture, with all kinds of backpackers sipping 'happy' shakes and mushroom cocktails, while watching episode upon episode of Friends and other American sitcoms. So my first impression is that the town is a real dive, which is also the opinion that I had been lead to believe by corresponding with those far better traveled than myself before coming here. After a few days here, my opinion is slightly changed, and I think I understand the draw here:

It's like home. Well sorta, in fact it isn't anything like home, but it has similar ammenities and luxuries. It's the ultimate relaxation, vegetation and intoxication mecca in all of Southeast Asia, it seems at least. All of the businesses cater to exactly what it is that makes Western people comfortable. For example, almost all of the bars and cafes have T.V.'s in them, which as I mentioned, air comedies and whatnot, but also the newest movies and music nightly. You can even bring your iPod and play it over the bar's sound system (which is bigger than mine, I'm sad to say). That and the tables are designed to be lounged around on pillows. So all these places are full of of people sipping drinks, eating food, and watching T.V. while their muscles atrophe. Paradise eh?

If you answered 'no', you're actually wrong. Seriously, isn't that the definition of luxury? YES! And that's exactly what all these places seem to capitalize on. So I don't blame them, not at all, and if there was a Vang Vieng outside Kingston I'd spend all my time there. In fact I don't even blame the patrons, I just feel that they've slipped down a very easy slope to slip into. But this is Laos, and while it would be so easy, so enjoyable, so within my comfort zone to catch the showing of 300 tonight while sipping on Beerlao and gorging myself on tropical fruits, I've got more cultural things to do.

How to get food poisoning in Southeast Asia

It's quite easy actually. At least I know which restaurant I won't be returning to. Suddenly Death appeared and pointed a bony finger to my plate and said "The chicken soup!" and that was it. Tell me you guys have seen The Meaning of Life. So ya, I was totally bedridden for all of yesterday, and am on the mend but not totally 100% yet. It was bound to happen sometime, right Anna? Luckily our room has a western 'style' toilet, the answer to my prayers in times of need. Man, these Asian toilets for the most part require they own post. Most of them have no garbage can, no T.P, and no bum gun (you'll have to look that one up), just a hole in the ground, a bucket of water and your own creativity. Blah. Anyways enough about that.

Looks as if we're leaving Luang Prabang tomorrow, our stay was a bit shorter than we'd planned but we're going to tack on the beaches in Cambodia to our trip. Both Dust and I took a walk up Phousi hill to look out over the city, mind you on separate occasions. What a nice little town! We've got some nice little photos too.



There's also one of a flower sitting inside a bomb, should have been included in our last post. Seems to me like the ultimate way to say "Up yours America, is that the best you can do?". Good for them.

Unfortunately, due to the aforementioned sickness, I stayed in bed while Dustin and a friend of ours Larry took off to Kwang Si waterfall, something I was really looking forward to. Since I wasn't there, but have the pictures, I'll do my best to narrate. Here's one of me curled up in a ball on my bed, sweating:


At this point I had just woken up and was trying desperately to rehydrate myself without actually sitting up, wishing I was dead:


Aaah, must have been nice. But there are waterfalls in Vang Vieng, our next stop, so I don't have to go totally without.

Live! from the Mekong

Frustration Sets In

This "take only photos, leave only footprints" thing is bullshit. Every time I go to a new place, it is changed by my presence. Pak Beng (between Huay Xai and Luang Prabang) wasn't a "cute mountain village", it was a well-oiled tourist valve. I doubt "Hill tribes" that its advertised you can see on treks have any sort of traditional lifestyle whatsoever, other than making nice silk for the falang (foreigners). Hypocritically, though, I'm going through these processes, except for the trekking thing, and making worse the situation that I am complaining about.

Its not the Pak Beng was not a "cute mountain village" as I expected - its rather that the footprint I feel I'm leaving is so BIG, mostly in terms of spending power. I know I wouldn't feel so bad in Europe, where I wouldn't be as noticeable of a leaky wallet.

In Bangkok, I'm just going to go ahead and say that EVERY Thai that talked to me was trying to get something out of me. Chiang Mai was a little better. Luang Prabang is a little better still, but COME ON. I've met tons of cool Westerners (including Australia, I guess) but I haven't really met any Thais or Laotians. The few people I have met, or at least have had an amicable relationship with, were the people I had just given money.

Yes, I'm comparably rich to these people. When you're poor in this place, you're REALLY poor - they don't have the same social net that we do. But, dammit. I'm here to experience culture, not get cheap beer. However, that's what some people are here for when the price for a big bottle of Beer Lao is 8,000 kip, less than a Canadian dollar. (That's correct, all those zeroes are supposed to be in there; wicked inflation)

Anyway, I had a wicked desire to get out of the Tourist area and meet some Lao, so I rented a nice mountain bike for $5/day and headed east on the closest road I could find. (This was on Monday) Very quickly, I was in the countryside, and it was cool. Everyone would say 'Saibaidee' to the sweaty white guy on the bike. I got to see non-tourist architecture, which was pretty cool. The french colonialism shows, with a roadside looking like

shanty-shanty-massive house-shanty-shanty-shanty-massive house-shanty-etc.

The experience was so good I got Taylor to grab a bike and go out today. We were gone for 5 hours, heading south at random. The handheld GPS is a great security blanket - we can lose ourselves but as long as there is a sky overhead we can find our way home. We rode for what seemed a REALLY long time and finally, as we were about to turn back, saw a sign that said "Waterfall 3.2 km" along a dirt road. Well, we had to do it, so we did. It was hilly to the extreme, and we ended up walking our bikes most of the way. 300 m from the actual waterfall was a guy in a tiny bamboo booth taking 10,000 kip for tickets. Well, we had come most of the way. In broken English, we found out that the falls were pretty low now, and would be at their prime in October. When we got there, the waterfall was nice, but not really the highlight. You know what was?

UNEXPLODED BOMB SHELLS!


Supposedly Laos is one of the most-bombed countries in the world, all during the Vietnam war. There are landmines all over the place if you go too far off the beaten trail - I think I heard 400 Laos die per year this way. I was secretly hoping that I would find something like this, but I never expected it would actually happen.

The bombs where 250-500 pounds, empty of any explosive material and just lying there on the side of the road. There was some construction nearby, so I assumed that they had been moved out of the way. Looking at the pieces of iron they are made of, its disgusting how much explosive force they must have had to blow even the cases apart.



The coords where we found them is: [N 19deg50'13.4" E102deg07'52.0"]

I decided to get serial numbers off the bombs, in some crazy hope that they would mean something to someone:




I felt pretty disgusted by the time I went through this. However, for the sake of satire, I had to do one more thing. Here's my impression of Slim Pickins' at the end of Dr. Strangelove:



Taylor says this is the most tasteless thing he's ever seen.

The Mighty, Mighty Mekong

Well it's been a little while since our last post, but wifi reception on a boat floating down the Mekong more than 100 km from nowhere isn't as good as you might expect. So here begins the account of our three days journey to Luang Prabang, Laos, one of the highlights of our trip.

We caught a bus early in the morning...Friday, I guess, from Chiang Mai to Chiang Khong. That wasn't very interesting, to be honest. Expect for the careening around switchback turns up and down mountains, well over 100 kph and 8" from the edge of the road and of course, certain death. Not alot goes on in Chiang Khong, so we crossed immediately into Huay Xai, leaving Thailand behind. Hello Laos! We celebrated with a piss warm bottle of Beerlao, the national pastime, because the power was out.

The next morning we awoke early to get a seat on the boat. They look like corrugated iron bananas to me.


Unfortunately, my precious punctuality didn't score us the best seats, or even the best boat this time. We were some of the first people on the banana, er, boat, and found some uncomfortable wooden benches with straight backs and about two microns of legroom that would be our home for the next 8 hours. Little did we know, they had WAY overloaded our boat, and eventually decided that the best way to fit 75 passengers on a 30 person boat would be to take two 30 person boats. Gotta hand it to those guys. Anyways it turns out that the second boat was far better. It had modified car seats for benches, more room, and actually left earlier. The boys would have to come of with some devious plan to ensure that THEY had those seats for the next day (foreshadowing...).

The first day of the ride was completely eye opening. I've never seen landscapes so incredibly beautiful in my whole life. I would upload picture after picture, but I'm using someone's card reader and he wants it back. That and the internet here is a touch slow, takes a few minutes to upload one picture. See how much we love you guys? Anyways, the geology is something else, it looks like thousands of flying saucers made of rock have just crashed one the riverbanks. I wish this picture did it more justice.


The river is full of water buffalo, fishermen, naked kids bathing (the sort you'd see in National Geographic), and of course cholera, liver flukes, E. coli, and all the other things we can't see. Needless to say, although it was a hot ride, we didn't go swimming.

We spent the first night in Pak Beng, who's existence is sustained entirely by travelers like ourselves in the same way that the river seems to sustain all the other villages along the way. It was here I had a bit of a revelation. Previously I'd felt kind of guilty about taking pictures of locals, etc, because I couldn't shake the feeling that we were taking advantage of them somehow. But of course I now realize that we, as farangs, are taken advantage of equally by those hocking goods for silly prices, dragging us to their guesthouses and the like. It's a two way street. And at least it clears my conscience a bit. Anyways, Pak Beng is certainly what you would call a hole. We ended up with a two bed room with mosquito nets and holes in the walls for about four USD. Not bad, but overpriced. What were we gonna do, hop back on the boat?

We had a nice meal and lots of Beerlao, cold this time, with some dudes we met on the boat. The older guy with the camera, Manfred, is cycling from Singapore to the motherland, Germany. He's 70. Held his own with us young whippersnappers as well.


So the next day we woke up uber-early to catch the sunrise over the Mekong, and make sure we had primo seats. We bought our ticket and then wrote our names on bits of paper, taping them to the best seats in the house on one of the boats. We felt pretty clever until people like Manfred and another old guy had to sit on wooden benches behind us. But this is no city bus, it's survival of the fittest out here! Besides if we can ride a bike across two continents he can endure a hard seat for a few hours. Anyways I'll save you the details of the second day of travelling, except for one stop we made. We ran ourselves onto a beach near a small village to give little Lao kiddies the opportunity to sell us silk scarves, smoked fish, giant lizards turned inside out and live rats suspended in the air by a string tied to one foot. Yep, we need to seriously re-evaluate our animal cruelty standards here. That and the little girl at our guesthouse in Huay Xai had found some beetles the size of small birds, and had torn off their legs to play with the and watch the try to helplessly scuttle about. There's a reason I'm not posing any pictures on the subject. Its a bit ironic that this sort of thing goes on in the same country that doesn't fix dogs and cats, because they consider it painful to the animal. Anyways here's that promised sunrise picture.


Yeah just imagine being there.

One other thing I did notice on the boat was the universality of iPods. Dustin and I have been mentally keeping note of things we see here that appear to be universal. Like writing swear words inside bathroom stalls, inflated gasoline prices, and people trying to sell us dope because we look young. So like I said, iPods. I didn't actually count, but I'm sure that a third of the people on our boat had one. They were a great source of amusement for the kids, who took breaks from trying to sell us beer and chips to commandeer some poor dude's player for an hour or so. I had to get a picture.


Where would we be without little white earbuds.

So now we're in Luang Prabang, finally, and I'm sure there will be lots to say about this sleepy little town once we get a feel for it. Ta ta!

Last days in Chiang Mai

Today is our last day in Chiang Mai. We'll be taking off tommorow early to get to Huay Xai, on the other side of the Mekong river, separating Thailand and Laos. We have to get to the border crossing by 6 pm, or they will close. But, here's what happened to me over the last few days.

I went Rock Climbing! I'm somewhat of an experienced indoor climber (usually my par is 5.9 or 5.10) and although I have taken outdoor top-roping courses, I have never actually put them into practice. Apparently, rock climbing is really popular in Thailand thanks to Chiang Mai Rock Climbing Adventures. I booked a day trip with two guides to take me up to Crazy Horse Buttress. I don't really have any pictures because the camera was crapping up at this point and because most of the time I was suspended 30 feet up.



After being reviewed on how to clean a route of quick-draws and to do all the work at the top of the route, I went up and down on 4 climbs before lunch. Each climb was about 20-30 metres. I found outdoor climbing pretty exhilirating. All the rock at Crazy Horse Buttress is limestone, which means if there is any hint of acid in the rain it starts to erode in little concave bumps on any upwards-facing surface. This sort of looks like the enlarged surface of a golf ball. The edges of these were sharp, and cut my hand initially when I ran into them.

We broke for lunch, which was supplied by a nearby restaurant. During this I saw a bird that moved too fast for me to take a picture of, so I must announce the first

SOUTHEAST ASIA BIRD IDENTIFICATION CONTEST!!!!
The winner of which will get a prize that is undisclosed at this time.

The bird in question is 20 cm, 10 cm of which is tail. The guides who were with me told me they didn't know the English name, but they knew it migrated from Siberia. It was mostly blue, with black and white arrow-like markings on its back. Its belly was orange at the front, fading to white at the back. I knew it had some sort of call, but I can't really remember what.

During the afternoon I got much more relaxed talking to my guides. One of them was more of an expert, one was a novice. When I was resting between routes, the expert would send the novice up on routes that he hadn't been on yet. Somehow, we stumbled upon penis jokes, and I was taught all the neccesary equivalent in Thai. When we were talking about what was funny, I mentioned the Bodyguard 2, which they seemed to think was pretty low humour.

In the afternoon, I rappelled down into a cave, 57 metres down, in fact. It was pretty awesome, and there were some active stalactite/stalagmite pairs. I also did more advanced climbs up top as the guides guaged my skill level. One of the climbs had me hugging around a 3 foot diameter stalactite, but I wasn't flexible enough and too tired to get over top of.

At the end of the day, I got back into Chiang Mai to meet up to Taylor. I have to give a shout out to Courtney here, who introduced us to the Hash House Harriers. 'nuff said.

Dear John Beaty:

Hey John (or someone who feels like contacting him): I vaguely remember you demanding that I buy a gift for you, since you got one for me in Cuba. What do you want?

The next day, we ignored tourism and went to the mall to see spiderman 3. The mall was a really wierd experience - Taylor has more stuff to say about it than I do. I found that all the prices in the mall for imported goods were Western prices (not surprising I guess), but food prices were still pretty comparable to Thai prices, about 1/4th of Canadian. This makes for a pretty weird culture, and just again reminds me that I'm in a slightly incomprehensible place.

There are many things that don't line up in my mind, like the lack of free speech without any feeling of opression, the worship of the king and the incredible emphasis on fashion. I also felt very left out because everyone else is so polylinguistic.

On wandering back from the Mall, we were hungry and looking for a place to eat. Food is so shockingly cheap here 55 Baht = $1.50 Canadian for a GOOD meal, that we eat out all the time. We stopped at an incredibly chill and empty place called the Jade Garden. We were served by what I can best describe as an "Italian Hippie" who ended up talking to us for over two hours about travel, the world, spirituality, his life, etc. He lived for 15 years in Bali, India starting in 1974, and was bitten by a King Cobra. He also knows six languages and is an antique dealer. We keep meeting incredibly awesome people.

CAMERA

The camera has been giving me bullshit issues for several days now. It would have problems such as being very slow, sometimes "freezing" and not turning off, etc. We weren't sure what the problem was at all, and have been confused for a while. This explains the lack of pictures. However, I managed to figure out that the two identical memory cards I got at Henry's in Kingston were the offenders. We tried the camera with a new Kingston one (the brand, not the city) and it works awesome. This is how Taylor and I felt when that happened:



Here is a picture of the offender:

asshole.

Doi Suthep

We had to get the camera fixed because we were heading up to Doi Suthep, the Wat on the Mountain outside Chiang Mai. We chartered a Song-thow using our now-expert bargaining skills for the 16 km ride.

On the way there:
Driver: "I'll offer you 300 baht"
Taylor: "No. How about 150."
Driver: "No. 250."
Taylor: "Fine. How about 200."
[Driver walks away for a bit without any warning. We stand there awkwardly for a minute, then he comes back and takes us up.]

On the way back:
Translator, speaking for the driver: "He offers 300 baht."
Taylor: "What? We got up here for 150."
etc.

Having the camera just returned to us, we were elated and took many pictures:




A monk on a cellphone:




Incomprehensible Thai Political Cartoon:

How I became Jamie Oliver

I cooked with a bunch of Brits. Signed up for a cooking class today since rock climbing's not my thing. It was pretty awesome, there were seven of us (three Brits, myself and three Americans). Everyone was super cool but two of the Americans sure didn't help their stereotype. I'll stop talking before I get myself in trouble. Obnoxious. Oops, I've gone and said it! Anyways we all rode out to this organic farm (stopping at a market along the way) in the countryside in a sawngtheaw (not even sure of spelling but its pronounced song-tau), which is a converted pickup with benches in the back. Allusion to Slim Pickens riding an atomic bomb. The ride did a real number on my hiney, but I lived to tell about it. So ya this farm essentially represents all that is tasty in the world. All of the ingredients we used, neglecting fish sauce and sesame oil, we either bought at the market or plucked from nature's sweet, sweet bosom during a walkabout through the field. The whole place was remarkably well set up actually, I wish I had some pictures to show but Dustin has the camera today. Roberta, whom I chatted up at length, said she'd email me something though so keep your eyes peeled. We made red curry paste (and then obviously red curry), phat thai, some kind of stir fry, som tam (papaya salad) and for dessert mango with sticky rice and coconut. All in all a delicious experience...probably nothing I couldn't have cooked at home but hey, they had gas burners. Now that's special. Plus the whole idea of walking out to a tree, picking a mango and cutting it up for dessert would appeal even to the most die hard meat and potatoes guys. This super cute Thai girly lead the pack, showing us all what to add when, how long to cook things for, etc. It was geared towards people who's culinary knowledge extends little beyond T.V. dinners, but a great place to be nonetheless. Here's where the farm was: N 18deg53'58.7" E 099deg04'32.0".

By the way would someone reply and let us know if anyone is interested in these coordinates? Or is it just dad. Keep it real.

Batman and Robin strike again!

Alright seroiusly, this picture upload thing is getting outta hand. I'll give it another try here, who knows what'll happen. Otherwise I know that my superb literary technique will paint such vivid images of sugar plums and mangosteens in your little heads that any picture will be a huge let down.Oh look it does work, except I don't know how to tell blogger where I want the pictures, so you'll just have to match them up in your mind.

I'm not sure how we got here alive, to be honest. Not that the roads are bad, au contraire mon frere, but we stopped to fill up with gas at a bus station about halfway. The happy looking fellow filling the tank puffed away on a cigarette about 3 feet from 30 cubic metres of gasoline. I needed a new pair of underpants.

We could spend some seroius time here in Chiang Mai. This ain't no Bangkok, a place that I, for one, feel is only suitable for flying into and out of. We experienced our first total downpour yesterday, and thought we'd show how manly we were by walking around for a few hours in it. Misconception 1: just because it rains a whole sh*t load in Thailand doesn't mean Thais like it. I had a rain coat on so they didn't laugh as hard at me as they did at Dusto, who was totally soaked to the bone.

Had coffee yesterday with a local named Bak, pretty nice dude. Of course as soon as anyone tried to stike up a conversatoin with me, my spidey sense goes wild and the scam alert beeps so loud I can't hear the traffic. But lo! we're not in Bangkok anymore! Bak was totally genuine, had lots to say for sure. He's a librarian here at the university, has a son, etc etc etc. It's hard to have a metaphysical conversaoin with someone who speaks less English than our late Italian neighbour back in K-Town. Oh but the coffee! I think it has something to do with the French influence in the whole region, but man I could drink it all day. Anyone heard of that Kopi coffee, or whatever it is? The stuff that little children pick out of cat dung in the jungle, then send it to Canada and sell it at 5,000,000 % markup. Anyways that stuff's all over here, and no way I'm paying $50 a cup for in in Canada. Speaking of expensive stuff, I bought about an ounce of saffrom yesterday for 20 baht. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it. Or stick that in your wok and cook it. Hopefully the dudes at the Lao border think the latter.

We continue to bump into Krysztof and his buddies Mike, Mike and Amy. I think they're stalking us, and guess where they're headed next. Yup.

The Chiang Mai Sunday night market. Enough said? Maybe not...in all my young young years I've never seen so much merchandise. It's like Walmart meets Times Warner meets Harmony (you know that alternative store that sells poorly carved wooden statues for a month's salary), but then put it outside. I don't know what I'm saying. Nothing does it justice. I picked up some sweet buffalo horn salad tongs for about $9, after some hard bargaining. I'm getting better at it but sill have alot to learn. A long way from my rose buying experience in Toronto, I'll say that. They sell cockroaches to eat that are the size of dogs here, calling them 'mackarels'. I'm not sure what that means, other than holy mackarel that's one big ass bug.

Nudo think's we're in the CIA for carrying around a GPS, but here goes anyways. Our guesthouse this time around (though we'll move in a day, its a bit pricey and we're living above our means) is at: N 18deg47'16.3" E 098deg59'28.6". Have fun with that.