Last Week in Bangkok

In my last week in Bangkok I had a pretty horrible day. I won’t get into the details of everything that went wrong, but I’ll tell you one of the long, drawn-out stories from the day. It wasn’t anything particularly telling about the city of Bangkok's character; instead, it was more about having a lot to do in a place where I was still not completely comfortable yet and not fluent in the language.

It started after a Thai language class, when I needed to go to the Cambodian Embassy to get an extended visa for my upcoming trip. My teacher had told the cab driver a specific address to smooth the communication and get me more easily to the embassy. About an hour or so of being stuck in the ever-stagnant traffic of Bangkok, we finally got to the address my teacher had supplied, which ended up being on the opposite side of town (one of the numbers was confused in the location, I think). Instead, my cab driver was trying to drop me off at a local hospital on a dirt road somewhere I didn’t know. Frustrated, I got the correct coordinates for the driver and, both aggravated, drove through traffic for another 45 minutes to get to the embassy. 

Of course the embassy was closed by the time I got there. (Don't worry, I got there the next day and everything was settled.)

If you know me in person, you probably know that I am not someone who hides my emotions well when feeling things. Steam was coming out of my ears and I was thinking about getting a little cry out while on the streets of Bangkok in front of the Cambodian Embassy. Sweetly, the motorcycle drivers around me rushed over to try to help me feel better; some offered cigarettes, one gave me his seat, and others offered to get me some water. I finally realized I just wanted to be back at Lorena’s place and sulk for the rest of the day, and asked for one of the drivers to ride me home.

Something about Bangkok to know – motorcycle guys have zoned areas when it comes to their business. In some organized way, motorcycle taxis are permitted to work within a certain area, and understand to not go beyond those areas. My place was easily a 30-minute car ride through Bangkok to get to from where I was at the moment, and very much so out of this area's zone by a lot. One guy agreed to take me, still, and took off his orange taxi shirt and agreed. He took a pretty big risk to bring me home, and for that I am grateful he was able to bring a weepy girl home.

The ride, however, was terrifying. He sped through the streets and cut into parking lots to help save time. He also got on the highway and rode 80km/h, weaving between the cars flying off of every bump. Though I had a helmet, I clung onto him for dear life. I thought to myself, this was possibly the stupidest thing I could have done in my life. I was sure I was going to fall off of the seat and meet my demise on the roads of Bangkok. Thankfully, I got home safely, though shaking.

I failed to mention that the driver also held the motorcycle handlebars with only one hand because he had tried to hold one of my desperately-clutching hands while he drove. I felt the dread a woman can feel when in need of help from a guy and know that they’re trying to make something more out of it. I couldn’t change the situation because I was praying to get home safely, but I told him to drop me off a bit further away from the apartment just in case, so he couldn't follow me. He got off of his bike and kissed my hand a bit too enthusiastically (and tried to kiss me while I was walking away), and confessed my beauty and his love for me (after a 30-minute bike ride I’m not sure how that was possible). He asked to call and kiss me multiple times as I slowly inched away towards the complex. Precipitously, that day at class I had asked how to say “I have a partner” in Thai ("mii fan") and I repeated it until he finally rode of disappointed. I tiredly and weepily ran into Lorena’s place, and felt so completely spent and dejected that poor Lorena came home with a bunch of sweet bananas for my sad (emotional) consumption all night.

But my time in Bangkok has ended for the time being, and I feel like it requires a final note before I move on. Overall, I like Bangkok quite a lot. Aside from the overbearing humidity and heat (that I got used to), and aside from the oppressive pollution, I could stay in Bangkok for a while. I feel like that is a place that, like NYC, takes years to understand without simply scraping the surface of commonly visited areas. I’m not sure I would feel alright with staying there for the long term because of some cultural differences, but Bangkok is cosmopolitan enough that I felt comfortable there. Also, the food really is fantastic. I look forward to seeing it again.

But I'm in Myanmar now, which is a different story.

Boyfriend (was) in Bangkok

A few days ago I was in happy mode because Mr. CT Lawyer was here with me, exploring Thailand and making me laugh, like he normally does. But he’s gone now, and all I have are our memories and the future time I will get to see him again.

We stayed in fancy hotels while he visited me on my SE Asia jaunt. I arrived in Bangkok before him, so I checked-in to our first hotel alone with my backpacker’s luggage, earthy fisherman pants, and messy ponytail. I got some looks, but the concierge was sweet and sent me up to the room without asking me about my dirty traveler look.

Let us safely say I am not used to that kind of caliber in accommodations anymore (what with my hostel hopping and student budget), and I felt overwhelmed with the fanciness of our room. I sat around for hours, waiting for him while feeling unsure about how to manage the incredibly plushness of the bed. Then finally, late in the night, he walked into the room and I bounced up and down like an eager child on Christmas (which was only a few days before).

In Bangkok we met up with Belgian Elkana for a pleasant coffee chat in the morning. We then left Elkana for his flight home and ended up on what seemed to be a straightforward trip to a reputable tailor for The Boyfriend to get some suits made. Unfortunately, Apple Maps inaccurately plunked the shop pin far away in southern Bangkok at a warehouse that was not there anymore, and the tuktuk driver failed in his desperate attempts to persuade us to go elsewhere. We ended up aimlessly wandering through what looked like a low-income housing area for about an hour, confused and baking in the sun (just like a table of raw pork we saw as we meandered back to the road). Many of the people living in the area came up to us to ask us sweetly why exactly were we there, indicating we clearly were in the wrong place. After a long time waiting for a passing cab (because we were not in a tourist area), we finally drove all the way back to the tailor (hilariously) a few streets away from our hotel. Once we got to our destination, Mr. CT Lawyer bought me a lovely Christmas present of a pretty green dress made for my funky curves.

Afterwards, we got stuck in some thick traffic for an hour to get to the Reclining Buddha on the other end of town. The traffic, we found out, was because of a big festival that was happening – according to our driver – for something about independence from an ancient kingdom (though I could be wrong about that). We ended up at the Wat Pho in time to admire the Golden Hour and appreciate some of the sunset prayer preparations by the monks, with some white strings in their hands and a buzz in the air. Boyfriend was impressed by the large intricacies of the temple, like me, but his jetlag took charge and we rushed back for an early sleep.

The next day we got to the airport for our flight to Krabiin southern Thailand, the beachy region. Really, we were staying about 30 minutes out in a resort town called Ao Nang, which was crowded with more falang tourists than Thai people, much to our dismay. The beaches, however, were gorgeous with spikes of limestone rocks jutting out by the shore, and we were able to overlook the strange ratio of locals to foreigners.

In Ao Nang, we discovered that in order to see the more secluded and pretty spots, we had to literally climb into the wooden long boats on the beach. The first day we went to Railay Beach, which was beautiful and intimate enough to let us relax for a few hours without getting stepped on, yet had some food boats with full meals should we all get stranded without access to a boat for getting back to our hotel quickly. We lazed in the water and sun until I was sufficiently burned, and we patiently bargained with a boatman to bring us back in time for a nap and dinner. We ate a lot of amazing seafood while we visited the area, and went to a dumpy looking Isan restaurant that turned out to be some of the most scrumptious food I've had all month in Thailand.

On New Year’s Eve we felt bold and went to the famously attractive Koh Phi Phi for a fun day in some beautiful sightseeing. After a 2-hour boat ride to the island, we discovered that a few hours was not enough time to secure a tour of the island’s gems and that our only option was loitering on the beach or in the intensely packed tourist town at the port. By tourist town, I mean the small streets were lined with tourist shops and tour packages in a way that felt to me like being in Disney World’s tight alleyways. There were tourists walking around in revealing swimwear, which alarmed us a bit as the region is pretty conservative and modest (though in the tourist areas they tend to turn the other way). Feeling overwhelmed and confused, we ended up on the beach and sat around for an hour or two until our boat back to Ao Nang.

This is when the Boyfriend and I discovered our profound difference in beach appreciation. For him, he likes beaches just fine and enjoys doing nothing on the beach for a few hours, floating in the water perhaps for a little while before lounging and relaxing. Personally, I don’t actually like beaches that much. I love ports and harbors, but finding sticky sand in surprise crevices after a beach visit is absolutely dreadful. Also, I do not like flopping down on the beach for a while – I get bored easily. All of this is to say he floated around and relaxed on the beach at Koh Phi Phi while I pouted and huffed on the beach, fully clothed and wiping sand off of me constantly.

For the evening, we went to a fancy beach-side restaurant and had some outrageously delicious crustaceans for dinner – he had a spicy crab, and I had my favorite thing, lobster – while we admired the sun set on the water. We then strolled around the bustling town until it got closer to midnight, when we sat on the wide staircase to the beach and watched people in party hats celebrate the coming of 2016 by sending candlelit lanterns into the sky. The lanterns floating into the sky and away from land was one of the most beautiful things I have seen in a while, with a spiritually-charged feeling, and I was grateful that we watched it together for an hour before the fireworks at midnight.

On New Year’s Day, after a mishap that left our bags laundry-less for three hours after check-out (I don’t want to talk about it, and it wasn’t our fault), we took an evening flight to Northern Thailand – the ancient city of Chiang Mai. I loved Chiang Mai (especially after our beach trip), and we both agreed that it’s more laid-back atmosphere enchanted us. We stayed at a spa just out of the city where we slept in silence and woke up to the sound of roosters in the distance.

In Chiang Mai there’s an old city area where tourists tend to stay, that is surrounded by a river/moat of some sort in a box shape – we called this area the box, and we explored it on our first day. There are walls and gates around the old city that look like waves of bricks and crumbling or rustic wats (“temples”) lightly spot the box area. There were a lot of wats. The tourists, like us, love wats, and we were again surrounded by a slew of tourists; unlike in the beachy areas, though, the congestion of people didn’t bother me so much there. The wats there do such a great job maintaining their spiritual practices, and we felt peaceful while we visited. I felt spiritually uplifted and recharged while looking at the complex art on the walls. In particular, the crumbled Wat Chedi Luang really moved me – bells hanging on the temples twinkled in the calm wind while we enjoyed the beauty of the old architecture.

While I made sure we ate a lot (a LOT) of traditional local food (curries, papaya salads, spicy foods, etc.), I was craving western food badly while we were in Chiang Mai. After all, I had been faithfully eating local food for months. At the time, a (gluten free) sandwich sounded like the best thing in the world. Praise the gods, we found a western diner that had gluten free bread, and Mr. CT Lawyer was gracious and supportive in my cravings as I buried my face in a grilled cheese sandwich. It was amazing. Afterwards, we snacked on street food to compensate for my Americanness.

We also went to the Saturday Night Market, south to the box, for a little bit. I say a little bit because it was so insanely busy (bodies pressed up against each other slowly creeping down the long streets) and I got overwhelmed early on. We sped through a lot of the stalls to escape the craze of the market (but not before supporting some local artisans with really creative gear). We ended up escaping into the wat where the temple made of silver was lit in the evening with bright colors. Like some of the other religious buildings in the town, however, women were not permitted in the temple, so Mr. CT Lawyer recommended us leave without him exploring a place I couldn’t enjoy with him.

The next day was a big day because we ended up going to Elephant Nature Park, where we fed and bathed elephants for a day. It was an incredible experience to be with such massive and wise animals. It was also terrifying, because elephants are frighteningly strong – especially if you’re holding food for them. Their trunks feel like superpowers that curl and twist surprisingly quickly, and I almost lost my hand a few times while feeding them bananas. It also became very clear while walking around with the elephants how little they need our help and assistance – unlike puppies (and I love puppies) – and that they only really need us to help protect them from other humans with mal-intent. The Boyfriend and I had a lot of fun and laughed a lot while standing in awe around these creatures.

We later roamed around the box some more and shopped around before we got back to Bangkok.

In Bangkok Mr. CT Lawyer pointed out the funny observation that a lot of businesses that have closed up in the US thrive (perhaps even boom) in other countries like Thailand and Australia. Sizzler is a big example – Mister Donut is another. I never realized this until he mentioned it, and come to think of it, 7-11 is a shockingly successful business over here (there are a couple shops on every street it seems).

Throughout our travels we also had to deal with how my small Thai vocabulary impresses and delights so many people here. With my white village blessing bracelets dangling from my wrists still, and my attempts to put together simple questions and requests for locals to help us, we were stopped and delayed in many of our adventures. I would apparently verbalize some semblance of a sentence and I would have several people standing around us trying to speak to me in more fluent Thai than I was able to stomach. Mr. CT Lawyer says he was very impressed with my skills in the language – and the locals all thought I had lived in the area for a few years – but we still would end up getting incorrect details or wrong directions with my sparse understanding.

The last place we stayed in Bangkok was a palace. Not an actual palace, of course, but it was such a luxurious 2-room hotel room that it felt like we were in some kind of royal residence. Everything smelled nice. We were treated like VIP by the staff (which was wonderful). And the food was phenomenal. We enjoyed our room so much that we stayed in to be with each other for our final days together. Our parting at the airport was very sad and lined with tears, but I am so glad we got to spend some more time together before I brave my way towards my final semester.

Lessons on Culture

I will be writing about my time with The Boyfriend soon, but as it is two weeks of a story I have to figure out how to tell, It is taking some time. For now, I need to tell people about my lessons in culture through the Thai language.

I have asked my Isan translator, Rose (we’ll name her Ajaan Rose now) to teach me some basic Thai while I’m around Bangkok for the next week. Happily, she has agreed and our classes started yesterday.

I am already frustrated with the Thai language, mainly because there are up to six different ways to say the same sound (they have short and long vowels, they have tonal differences, etc.), which means that there are five potential words that you can accidentally say in a sentence if you don’t say the right variation. Rose is patient with me as I protest and growl when I try to repeat her over and over again during our classes, but I know I will probably not get very far in this language for now with only a week and my inability to understand the tones.

It has been interesting to read her language book because often I am confused by the way the structure of the dialogue is presented to the student (a.k.a. me), or why people say certain things at certain times in the structure of the book. Rose is super smart and has taken time to answer each of my questions, and I feel my mind blow a little bit every time she gives me surprising information about the Thai culture.

Why do people respond to a question with “Hi” and not an answer? The answer: because it’s just a polite question to acknowledge someone in a brief greeting, and not needed answering.

Also, the wai is a particular piece of culture that most falang get wrong. The wai is when you press your hands together and bow to someone in greeting or gratitude. Falang do it for almost everyone that passes by us, which is very much unnecessary. It should happen, though, when a person is junior to their current company – either in status or age. The senior person should wait until the junior respects them with the wai, then give it back in return to be polite. You can also do it as a polite way to show respect to some acquaintances, but apparently my giving wai to the motorcycle guys that drive me around is unnecessary. I am still wrapping my head around how these social rules play out. If you did not pick it up, the culture relies on hierarchies and social status to a larger degree than I’m used to, and I find it fascinating. I also mess up regularly.

And, why does everyone have a nickname? The naming system here is interesting; everyone has a nickname that everyone uses to call them. I asked Rose (her nickname is Rose) why there was such a high prevalence of nicknames, and she explained to me the history of names in Thailand.

Until the early 1900s, Thai people were not required to have last names; historically they were not common. The nicknames were the original names, which were based on the parents’ favorite tree, flower, object, characteristic, etc. that was identified at birth. People had only these identifiers for most of Thai history.

Only when colonization became popular of neighboring regions did Thailand pass a law requiring surnames, in a strategy to deter colonization from western countries who presumably saw surname-holding societies as “civilized”. The surnames were created by talking to monks and consulting astrology rules to determine the best combination of syllables and sounds. Around this time (I think), Thai people decided, why not create official first names as well (you know, the names that are complicated to read/pronounce for westerners)! These first names have been normally based on the astrological details of the person, to kind of sound nice and official. But the original, and first, name of people here are what we call their nicknames.

I look forward to learning more things about this very complex place while botching every word I learn.

Love Hanoi, Hate Yoghurt

A few days before Christmas, I made my way to Hanoi. I admit I was nervous about going, since what I have ever really heard about Vietnam surrounded a gory history from nearly half a century ago. Upon landing, it became very clear that those stories of the country were no longer valid. I was disappointed only in discovering that I had not nearly enough time to explore the area as I had thought, and I’ll have to plan a future trip to fill in all of the gaps I’ve left there.

Let me start with some general things about Hanoi and the area. Generally, the French influence in Hanoi was palpable in the architecture, and a lot of the buildings were old but quite beautiful. The only way I could describe the look of the city is a very old, communist Paris.

Overall Madness: The best way to describe the atmosphere of Hanoi is that it’s NYC on speed. I mean this in the nicest way possible – Hanoi is just extremely energized and bustling at speeds trumping Manhattan pace by a lot. Half of the country’s population owns a motorbike, and it’s clearly felt as they rip through the streets all day and night. There are also 7 million people packed in an ancient city’s streets (Hanoi is a couple thousand years old), squirming around each other to get places. The stores stuff themselves between each other and brim onto the street with their merchandise, and cars/motorbikes take up a lot of the extra space on the road. I was staying in the Old Quarter, which is more packed and chaotic, but also more charming. Outside of the area, though, I would say the overall frenzy was the same, just more spread out on bigger streets. The biggest problem with this madness was the massive pollution everywhere. The air was thick with smog and I found my nostrils polluted.

Post-War Sentiments: I was nervous that the Vietnamese would not appreciate me, an American, visiting their country (I mean, we did kind of mess things up for them in an epic way). I was relieved to discover that the people seem to view it all as water under the bridge. They mention it in their country’s history, of course, since it was a big piece of recent history. But it was described as more of a piece of confusing history where they shrug and say, “Yeah, well, that happened.”

I went to tour the grim Hoa Lo Prison, where Vietnamese were killed and detained by the French, and American POWs were held during the war. The exhibits had a patriotic air to them, and talked of the countrymen’s struggles to be independent of tyrants….but I would feel much more uncomfortable as a French person there than American. The American section was seen almost like we were a silly irritant they tolerated while they struggled with the south area of the country.

With all of this, one odd thing I found there was that John McCain is kind of a big deal there. One tour guide talked about him as if he himself stopped the Vietnam War, and the prison tour had lots of pictures of him during and after being a POW, with his trooper outfits on display nearby. I found it surprising because I was not of the mind that McCain had too much to do with the war as a whole, other than fight in it….but that’s not the image I get of him there.

Christmas: I went to Hanoi for Christmas, thinking that I was going to be the sole celebratory person. How wrong I was. I would venture to say that Vietnamese in Hanoi put most Christian-centric areas of the world to shame with their splendor for the holidays. I went past one street in the Old Quarter with stores swollen with Santa outfits for sale. And people were actually wearing Santa getups in the city for days! Children and men strutted around in full red suits and women dressed as cute reindeer in heels. There were big balloon clusters of snowmen and Santas being floated around and sold throughout the town.

On Christmas Eve, I swear I was in NYC on New Year’s Eve! The streets were congested with so many motorbikes that they couldn’t move around each other. The town was glowing and buzzing with Christmas, and people were making their way to the big Cathedral in town. Curious, I went to the Cathedral with the mob, and found myself in a square where I heard on a speakerphone someone telling a grand story, and a JumboTron in front of the Cathedral broadcasting what was clearly the Story of Christmas (presumably happening in the church). Vietnamese people were there taking pictures smiling in front of the nativity scene and television, though clearly not paying attention to the story being told (I may not be a Christian anymore, but even I was feeling disappointed for the performers’ preoccupied audience). It was all about the celebrations, clearly. Walking back to the hotel, I heard musicians playing carols and restaurants along the area packed with diners and hosting bands playing more holiday tunes.

Funny enough, whenever I wished a Vietnamese a Happy Christmas, they would shy away and say, “Oh, no, we don’t celebrate Christmas here.” Really? I could have sworn you very much did.

More onto the activities of the few days I was there.

My exploring was cut short because within my first 7 hours in the country, I drank a fruit smoothie with yoghurt that was tainted. I had food poisoning and rendered dangerously useless for a day or two. It got to the point where my fever got too high and I could barely stay standing, so I went to a medical clinic – thanks for the tip with that one Tessa! – that hooked me up to an IV drip and shot me up with antibiotics and other great drugs to make me stop getting sick everywhere (meant literally). Fortunately, the hotel I was kind and very worried about my health, bringing me bananas and rice and checking in to see if I was alive throughout the ordeal. Don’t worry, I’m better now – the antibiotics have been strong and helpful.

Because of the great care at the clinic, I was able to make on a tour bus a day after being treated so I could visit the famous UNESCO Site, Ha Long Bay. The drive was three or four hours long with crazy driving (thank you, anti-vomiting meds!), and with a strange pit stop in the middle at an art factory of sorts. Getting to the bay, though, to see just a glimpse of the whole place was totally worth it. I felt spiritually moved with the beauty in Ha Long Bay, and that’s even with it being packed of tourists! The limestone mountains jutting out of the water make a magical atmosphere where we were in a watery paradise that only existed for us, even if for a few hours. In the bay we also went to a cave to see the pretty internal stalactites, which was also a beautiful sight to see for a little while.

I was still dealing with food poisoning and didn’t eat much outside of steamed rice and bananas, but I also heard the food on the tour was great. Our tour guide was a sweet lady who was full of life and pleasant jokes.

I don’t know what else to say about Ha Long Bay, other than it was one of those places I will try to make to again in the future, just to admire the beauty a bit more.

When in Hanoi and not puking my brains out, I toured the city. I walked around the mythical Hoan Kiem Lake and visited the temple on it (Ngoc Son Temple), which is an extremely old reminder of the Chinese influence on the region. And I walked around the Old Quarter to see what kind of other strange shops may exist on different streets. I also visited the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, which was an impressive big box, and ended up meeting an older man named Chien who offered to tour me around the city. Seeing as his name in French translates to my favorite animal in the world (aka dog), I felt it should be fine to join him on his tour of Hanoi. He was a friendly guy who was interested in my family, and shared me stories of his family as well. He showed me as much as he could in a few hours, and was highly concerned that I was going to fall off of his motorcycle at any moment.

Tutting through Hanoi on a motorbike reminded me I was very much in a communist country. Pictures and statues honored hard labor, and the communist flag was flown from most streets we went down.

Chien took me to the Museum of Ethnology, which is a fantastic museum that showcases many of the 54 ethnic tribe Vietnam hosts with exhibits and videos. They also have a tribal house garden, which allows tourists like me to walk around and in houses constructed as if they are meant to be used by specific tribes. I realized about ten years ago in Wales that this was my favorite kind of museum – the exploratory kind that lets me feel what it’s like for a moment to live in a setting like another group of people. I was so happy to find myself in a museum like that in Vietnam. Very well done! He also took me to the Temple of Literature, a millennium-old university. It was a lovely campus, and swarming with tourists, but still peaceful and nice to visit.

On the evening of the 25^th, I bought a ticket to see a water puppet show. This is a very old storytelling method in the area, where they take light wood and paint it into puppets, then perform stories and myths on top of ponds of water. It was a really fun experience, though don’t ask me what most of it was about as it was all in Vietnamese and I somehow missed the pamphlet that translated what was happening. In any case, the puppets were beautiful and seeing such a unique form of storytelling integrating water completely was a real treat for the water-related graduate student in me. It became clear to me how important lakes and rivers are to the history of the people there, and how their lives have revolved around bodies of water in a major way for a long time.

Locals who would interact with me seemed really worried about me being alone while there. I felt safe while walking around (except for my stomach), but I think the locals were more upset about me traveling solo than I could ever have been. Honestly, I was fine. Even on Christmas Day, where I stomached a fancy holiday meal as much as I could, I was happy to be with myself in such an exciting and fun town. 

Northern Laos

I was going to take a bus to Luang Prabang (LP) from Pakse, but the US Embassy kindly requested I avoid the roads between the two towns for a while because of some conflict that had happened near the road. So I took a plane, which meant I would no longer visit Vientiane or Vang Vieng, but instead would stay in LP for almost a week.

Landing the plane in LP was an experience! We had clouds engulfing us, and every once in a while a break from the clouds would happen during the turbulent landing and you’d see sharp mountain peaks stabbing threateningly in the plane’s direction. Clearly, and happily, we landed safely.

I came into LP on a rainy and cold evening. The rain didn’t last during my trip, but the cold stuck to the skin of my formerly-sweaty body for the remaining days. It’s good that the area is so gorgeous, charming, and peaceful, otherwise I would have been weepy the whole time for being cold and poorly insulated.

LP is full of tourists more than the other places I visited, which I grumble about, but the country began to grow on me, and I felt happy to be there. The people are genuinely kind and caring, the views are unbeatable, and there’s a laid back quality of life here that works still, even in modern times. I really enjoyed the overall pace and pretty backdrop for the week.

Something that surprised me about LP was the presence of old bombs everywhere. The US shelled the hell out Laos during the Vietnam War, and the history of bombings is still very clear when walking around LP. If you didn’tknow, hundreds of Laotian people die every year still from old bombs or minesthat haven’t gone off or “been discovered” yet. Most of the nicer restaurants I went to hosted at least one bomb as a sort of a chic décor. Many poorer villages sold in the nightly market shrapnel of bombs that are re-purposed as necklaces and bottle openers. I found it fascinating how the people have taken a bad situation and turned it into scenic relics in LP – making lemonade, I guess.

I went to the obligatory tourist spots while there, of course. Namely, the wats; the whole town is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and it beams with temples on nearly every corner. Each temple is different than the others, though they all share a similar architectural layout. One was all red, one was mostly black and gold, while another was all green! I was dazzled.

I also hiked up the large hill in the middle of town, PhousiHill (pronounced “poo-see” – please maintain your maturity); there I saw the panorama of the whole mountainous area, which was stunningly beautiful. The undulating hills were hugged with low-rolling clouds, and I felt like I had been transported to some filming of the LOTR. The Mekong glides around the town’s edge, the clouds doing their things, the looming nearby mountains - everything is beautiful.

I am not much of a shopper, but there are so many beautiful handmade things sold at LP I felt mildly ashamed of my purchasing frenzy all week. The nightly market was a rainbow of beautiful cloths and pictures and assorted useless yet beautiful things that I badly wanted. I bought two scarves and a nice shirt to wear in the heat, as well as some presents (I would have bought more there but I had to remember my weight and size limit for my travels). There was also this super nice store that I loved called Ock Pop Tok with handmade fabrics from local tribes, and I bought a $40 scarf which may very possibly be the nicest piece of clothing I now own.

Food-wise, there were ample fruit shakes made on the sides of the street and lots of coconut tasty snacks being cooked right in front of everyone. There’s a little alleyway in the center of town that at night turns into this giant buffet of meats and noodles and rice and soup and everything you would want to eat while in SE Asia, all for a buck! It was excellent and awesome and oily and gave me stomach problems while I was there. Je regrette rien.

One of the first nights I was there I went to a local Lao folk storytelling show, Garavek. It was fun to listen to local stories from way back when about the local geography and agricultural/fishing lifestyles, and most of them were very strange to me. Stories of giants plucking out eyeballs of sisters to be put back in blows my mind. Others had people dying for love to be turned into mountains while other people harbor magical powers if only for a second without much thought to it….it makes me wonder how people in ancient times came up with these elaborate and complicated stories for a simple mountain.

One day I went to the Kuang Si Waterfall; it is a 30-minute zigzag drive around some hills from LP, and our driver was in a particular rush to get us there; most of us left our bus an unhealthy shade of green. But the waterfall was awesome – the fast rapids on the limestone made the water take a jade blue-green color, and I sat and admired the different areas of the rapids for a while. There were also some cute sun bears lazing in a park near the rapids, but they looked pretty bored to me. After the waterfall, I went to explore a nearby butterfly sanctuary and got lost in the prettiness. There are loads of butterflies in SE Asia for some reason, and the sanctuary did a good job showcasing a few of the local types in a way that seemed happy and peaceful. The sanctuary also had a free, natural fish pond – you know, the fish that nibble/peck at the dead skin on your feet. Yes, I tried it. No, I didn’t really like the feeling. Sure, I’d try it again if it’s hygienic.

The next day I took a (very) long boat ride to the Pak OuCave, also known as the Buddha Cave, since it’s covered in Buddha statues. The cave was cool, albeit crowded, and there was a surprise upper level I liked a bit more because it was quieter and more mysterious/darker. The surroundings of the cave were, again, incredible. We also stopped at a whisky village (where they pickle scorpions and snakes in whisky bottles), and I yucked my way through the tourist trap until we finally got back on the boat to LP.

I also practiced some yoga at a tourist-heavy bar called Utopia, and ate some tasty food in other tucked-away spots. I made some random friends in and around LP, which always feels great and exciting…but I am also starting to get tired of the constant traveling (too bad for me – only half of the way to go!), and it can get lonely for the extrovert in me. Some days I just want to see consistent people and build deep/meaningful friendships over a long period of time, but that is more challenging when you and everyone around you is on the go. I’ve been lucky to make a few friends, I know, and I do love meeting such interesting people from all walks of life…but many days I am with only myself, and my inner extrovert is starting to talk to herself a bit more than I’m comfortable with.

Anyways, after a glorious week of admiring nature and relaxing in a quiet place, I made my way to Hanoi for the holidays.

Southern Laos

My entry into southern Laos was a bit curious. I took a bus from Ubon to Pakse. After four rather confusing hours of stopping at check points and other village stops that remain mysterious to me, we ended up in Pakse.

My introduction into Laos at the border was a sharp contrast from Thailand – on the Thai border, it was very ordered and the road was paved and the air was cool, but I went through the border tunnel and came out onto the Laos side with surprising heat and a large, confusing dirt path to a broken building. That broken building was the customs office.

I paid for my visa on arrival with a team of Europeans, but I was the only one that got interrogated about my visit to Laos. A man came out and pointed to my US passport, sternly (and rather loudly) asking me why I was in Laos. Confused and nervous, I stated truthfully that I was just a tourist visiting Pakse and Luang Prabang. Finally, he handed me my passport with visa (in a bit of a huff). I think there is some old hostility in some of those custom guys.

Reading the Lonely Planet SE Asia guide, I was in denial about its description of Pakse not being much. Once in Pakse, though, I learned to not doubt updated tour guides that much. Pakse is a dusty town, with hotel restaurants and enough foreigners to shake a stick at, but not much past that. Luckily, most of my time in Pakse had to be on a laptop for work and assignments anyways (or waiting around doing my laundry in the sink); I felt better knowing that I was not missing anything when I was isolated in my room for long days.

At the start, Laos did not wow me like I had hoped. I struggled for the first few days, trying to get things to work for me and my job – wifi, phone data, etc. Also, getting ointment for a minor skin infection was frustrating as I bounced between shops (and even ended up in the local hospital for English speakers to translate for me what I needed) with some medical creams precariously stashed in glass cabinets, and buying things for rashes I knew I did not have. With the increased heat and frustrating encounters (where English was even more useless here as it is in Thailand), I was sweaty and tired in a matter of minutes. I was irritated with the systems in Pakse early on, but I kept reminding myself that my travels would bring me to other places.

Being a solo lady traveling in Southern Laos (well, Laos in general), people try to help me out and make sure I’m safe. I found that I easily endeared myself to the people around me by using just a word or two in Lao (or ordering a Lao dish). In restaurants, though, this could backfire and instead they would try to prove to me just how spicy their food can be for local people (level: agonizing). I ended up eating at my hotel a bit, to protect myself from vindictive waiters. Luckily, the hotel manager where I was staying was so impressed with my interest in Lao culture and food that he even made me local meals, including grilled frogs, fermented fish, and eggy rice soup. Every time I ate I would have a group of Laotians surrounding me, in awe of my eating of their local foods. Apparently most “falang” don’t bother trying to eat traditional foods from the region; to me that just sounds like missing half of the fun of travel.

A few days in, I made my way further south to the border of Cambodia to stay in the 4000 Islands, on a little yet popular island called Don Det. Getting there, again, was an adventure, as I sat in a packed 40-year-old bus in the extreme heat with a pile of hippy-backpacker youth types that in discussions seemed more interested in partying on questionable substances than relaxing on a remote island.

After the bus, we trudged through a tired town and got onto some long boats that brought us to the banks of the island, which meant we had to quickly problem solve getting off of the boat (or climbing through several boats next to each other) and hope that our balance would get us to dry land before falling into the river with our belongings.

Off of the boat I was met by some locals selling things and more of the same backpackers casually strolling along. One of the downsides of being there was that it was hard to enjoy being in a foreign country because it felt like an extremely tropical western college town. The island is lined with souvenir shops, tourist agencies, and restaurants that cater to foreign mouths. One of the restaurants played “Friends” nonstop – another played “South Park”. A lot of the town was starting to feel a bit like Cancun spring break, if you catch my drift.

Other than that, Don Det is beautiful, as is the rest of the area. I was surrounded by peacefully rolling water and green little islands dotted the waterways, with looming green hills in the distance.

There is bank erosion on the island, which means there are little haphazard bridges made of wooden planks around the island that you (hopefully successfully) walk or ride over. I tried riding a bike to enjoy more of the island, but the roads were treacherous (cliff-side dirt paths with wooden bridges of death) and full of other bikes/animals/motorcycles/people using the same narrow paths. I became full of anxiety and stopped riding soon into the adventure, and decided to relax on the island for my stay. Instead, I’d focus on naps and sunset boat rides.

I got to make some new friends! which is most excellent for the traveling social extrovert I am. I met two Germans on my first night, and we sat in a restaurant having fun talking about foreign policy and academics. They are studying in Bangkok, and helped me understand more of the region than I had known before. I also ended up making good friends with a guy from Belgium (Belgian Elkana), who I get along with famously, and he became my southern Lao travel buddy for a few days. He has traveled through the region quite a bit, as well, and has given me a lot more insights into the culture and quirks of SE Asian travel since we met. We also talked about other things, like life and death and society and other light subjects. He’s great, you should meet him.

I wish I had stayed longer in Don Det, but I had things to do in Pakse (namely, work) and my relaxing and sweltering holiday in the islands came to a swift end.

Fortunately, I had one place to tour when I was back in Pakse – the Wat Phou in Champasack a little further south of the city. Wat Phou means it’s a temple of some sort situated by some natural area like a mountain or trees, I believe. I was told it was a good taster for the beginning of my Khmer Wat visits, and I am glad to hear that as it was enchanting. I met up with travel buddy Belgian Elkana, and we explored the beautiful and hilly area around an ancient temple that predates the Angkor Wat in Cambodia. The ruins were grand and elegant. The only problem was my fear of heights and the Khmer architecture’s sagging steps up a steep hill to the Wat. Luckily Elkana helped me down the stairs as I whimpered and paced like a puppy going down stairs.

After a week of travel and working, I got myself to the tiny airport and made my way to northern Laos, in Luang Prabang.

Learning in Isan

After Bangkok, my classmates and I took planes to the Northeast region of Thailand – Isan – in a city called Ubon Ratchathani. There, we loaded up some buses and drove off to a rural village (Baan Kor Tai); there we would live for 1.5 weeks.

An hour out of town, we began driving into dustier and sleepier communities before we finally slowed down and parked in our one-street village. We unloaded and got divided into our homestays throughout the small community of 150 houses.

The first word I can think of to describe the village is rustic. The dirt path led us to houses on stilts, slatted with wooden planks for walls. Some houses were made of concrete bricks, but where I stayed was more of the wooden type with open walls serving as ventilation and windows. Our kitchen consisted of a small charcoal stove, and our bathroom had a scoop bowl in a water storage basin we used for everything next to the squat toilet we patiently used without toilet paper. (As a side note, I’m currently nursing a wound from slipping off of that squat toilet and ripping my skin open on the brick wall. Leave it to me to get injured by a toilet!) We walked through mud and dirt and other natural litter on the ground, in flip flops. Some of our walks were impressively long and dusty. By the end of our visit, my feet were caked in dirt and my nail polish had gone from bright pink to dark brown.

The second word I can think of to describe the village is delicious. Each of our maes (“mother”) knew how to cook us a feast three times a day, and each time we were stuffed to the gills with treats I cannot figure out how to make nor describe. While the food was often eclectic for our mostly-Western taste buds – cricket soup, grilled fish chips, stuffed frogs – our class complained about gaining a lot of weight from the trip because the food was so amazingly tasty. I really enjoyed each and every meal we shared with our family, and I still think about this egg dish our mae made (“Son-in-law eggs”) because it might have changed a little part of my personality for the better. There was a lot of sugar in our foods, too….but…it was so good!

The third word I can think of for the village was wonderful. The community members were some of the warmest most genuine people I’ve ever met. Our mae was a quiet woman, but happily answered any wild questions my roommate (Kenyan Jackie) and I could think of. She was concerned about me when I got heat exhaustion from the 90F+ tempeatures, and laughed when I would try to (mis)pronounce words to her in the local dialect. She was so sweet with me, even though she couldn’t completely talk with me. Also, the other community members always smiled at our class members, and fully laughed with us, even when we barely did anything interesting. They welcomed us into their homes, they shared what little they had, and always made sure we were comfortable. I now consider the village a place I wouldn’t mind visiting in the future, just to see the people again.

Our class was an intensive learning course; we woke up early every day and started our learning process by 8:30am at the latest, and ended around 6pm as the sun set. We went on epic walks under the harsh sunlight, and visited rice fields to learn about the way of the farmers in the community. We rested on boats along the Mun River (situated in the village) and talked to fishermen about fishing and how it is impacted by the development of dams (specifically, the controversial Pak Mun Dam). We interviewed Buddhist monks about Buddhism and visited forest temples. We chatted to women about the roles of village women and menstrual hygiene. We observed children singing at school to impress the falang ("foreigners") observing them.

I personally got to experience the care of health volunteers in the village – essentially basic healthcare workers who help with basic community health before a hospital is needed – to make sure I didn’t need medical help for my body’s poor response to extreme temperatures. Most days were steaming hot, and we all felt it to some level. I think I reacted very poorly to it – I guzzled water and got intense headaches from the heat. I also had blood pressure problems because of the incredible heat (I’m fine now, don’t worry). But it didn’t lessen from the rich experience we were getting in the village.

How did we talk to the villagers, if we didn’t speak Thai/Isan/Lao? Our teacher from the local university, Ajan Kanokwan, and a handful of translators who came and lived with us to translate each and every sentence said while in that village. I cannot imagine how hard it must be to go between three languages like they had to for us to get points across. My translator was Rose – a spunky yet patient lady doing her PhD on prostitution in the Ubon area. I admire her because while we got to take breaks in conversation because of the gap of language, she was going between our mae and us constantly, explaining and translating stuff for everyone every waking hour. She was also a great teacher, as I am an insatiable student and insisted on learning some of the local language while I was around her. I pointed to everything and asked for its local name, repeating words like a toddler learning how to talk. She graciously humored my interests in language, and we would have deep, rewarding conversations about life and cultural differences when she wasn’t busy exchanging words to our mae for us. She’s great – I wish you could meet her.

The other translators were fantastic, too! Rose had to sleep next to me and listen to me get up for the toilet ever night, and she deserves special appreciation having to put up with me nonstop for so long. Gai, one of the other translators, was like the class cheerleader – he would pep us all up before an interview and lecture, easily making the flow of conversation seamless. Tuan, also, was patiently listening to everything said and filled in the crucial gaps that would happen in others’ translations. Ploi was putting together our interviews behind the scenes, and taking pictures for our memories. Seth was the comedy relief who would also explain to us how to ask culturally-appropriate questions, and Ing was the sweet yet sassy companion that helped us get a hold of children for interviewing. Our translators, for the whole class, were a perfect group of people, and I am so glad they chose to help us and put their lives on hold to give us communication.

If you’re curious, we were doing interviews partly for a general assignment we have on how the community develops in several ways, and how water plays a part in that development. We also were interviewing for a presentation on a specific topic we had to put together before leaving the area. My team’s topic was on community hygiene, and I was impressed by how much material we got out of the community in such a short time span. I never would have thought that trash management would be such a crucial part of domestic hygiene for the village, but everyone mentioned that before they got trash bins, flies were everywhere and people got sick a lot faster. We also talked about water hygiene, food hygiene (they clean their vegetables), and handwashing (the older guys are not good at it).

We had a day off somewhere in the middle, too. Well, by day off I mean we got out of town and went site-seeing all day long. We went to where the Mun River meets the Mekong by the border of Laos (Khon Chiam?), and saw that the convergence of the rivers looks like two different colors mixing together. We went to Pha Taem National Park and hiked under the sweltering sun to see some ancient cave paintings on the walls, and beautiful views of the hillside. We visited the 3000 Holes, where rapids during the dry season are climb-able. We ended the day with eating on the water some traditional meals (Larb, fish soup, sticky rice, omelets…). The day, sadly, was too hot, and we paid for our outside excursions the next day with more heat-related stomach aches and headaches.

Our last day came as a surprise to us. We were all wondering if we’d make it through the week in simple living, but when the day arrived, we felt like it was too short of a visit. The village had prepared a Buddhist ceremony for us – phuk siao. The ceremony was a way to bind our souls to the villagers’ souls, and keep us connected spiritually. In some ways, it was also a way to tie us souls to our Thai “homes”. It was a beautiful and humble ceremony, with an altar and singing, and the tying of strings on our wrists while village members individually gave each of my classmates and I unique blessings. The whole ceremony was moving, and I wept quietly through most of it (I was not alone in the crying though!). For me, I hadn’t realize how much of my heart I had given to the people in the village until they performed that ceremony, and I felt a bit heartbroken that I was leaving them. I haven’t taken off the strings yet.

After our village experience, we stayed in Ubon for a few days and ate lots of food at the town’s night market, got massages while local women howled with laughter when we tried to say some things in Isan to them, and relished drinks on the Mun River before we left the area. I personally felt a lot of loss, since it was the beginning of my solo journey throughout Southeast Asia, and I won’t see my classmates that I love like family for months.

But now I’m in Laos with other journeys to share later.