It's funny how when you travel 8 hour bus rides seem like nothing. Well, that's how they seem when you book them. "8 hours? Ive been on way longer bus rides than that, I can do it." So Geoff and I bought tickets for the 8 hour express bus ride from Luang Namtha in the north to Luang Prabang a little further south. The bus was really a minivan. In the last two rows Geoff and I crammed in with 4 Dutch tourists. In the first row, the one with the most legroom, sat two tiny Lao women. I tried to sit up front but the ladies kicked me out. I'm not one to play the race card, but there was some obvious racism. I heard the work "falong" (or something) thrown around a bit which is their word for a foreigner.
The road we took, which was the main highway in Laos, had been torn up by a recent cyclone. There really wasn't much road, only gravel and huge potholes. It didn't keep the driver from going 70, though. I would have ended up on the floor had I not been wedged in my seat like those face ice cubes in "Don't Break the Ice."
Anyway, now Im in the beautiful city of Luang Prabang. Tonight I will be in Hanoi, where I hope to meet up with Hoang again.
I think of Che Guivara's quote from his motorcycle diaries: "Yet afterwards I doubted whether driftwood has the right to say, "I win," when the tide throws it on to the beach it seeks." Onto the next beach.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Jungle fever, or is it dengue fever?
Day 1
In the movie Forrest Gump, Lt. Dan tells Bubba and Forrest to do two things. To always take care of your feet, and to not do anything stupid, like get killed. This is the same advice my friend Tim gives me every time I go somewhere. Its pretty solid advice. I was only able to manage one of those, and just barely, while in the jungle of Laos.
My guide's name was Petz. He's a 24 year old Laotian. He had a pleasant smile and huge forearms. I had met an American named Geoffery, he's a 55 year old sculptor from Santa Fe. I wasn't too thrilled about going with someone else. But he mentioned that he hiked frequently and all over the world. Besides, he was pleasant so far. In the end he turned out to be a better hiker that I was.
We started from a Khmu village just north of Luang Namtha. There we met our cooks. One was a 25 year old girl. She had strong facial features with high cheekbones and strong legs. She wore an old military coat, a camo hat, red lipstick, and flip flops. The other lady was older, but she looked tough. She carried the groceries in a bag that hung from her head along her back. From that village we walked to the trail.
The trail was tough, and sometimes non existent. Heavy rain, including a recent cyclone, washed away the bridges and trails. Often we had to swing from the brances of trees to get to the other side of a trail. The ladies, in their flip flops, seemed to have no trouble with the path. They even seemed amused that I was having such a hard time. Geoff was doing about as well as I was, and Petz walked at a fair pace. He said we had been making good time, and I liked to believe him.
After some dramatic river crossings and a beautiful waterfall, we made it to our camp. The ladies, who I thought we lost behind us, met us there. I was both confused and amazed. When I got there, Pim, the younger of the two ladies, was repairing a watch with a huge knife. "wow, and she repairs watches?" Geoff said. "Can I marry her?" I said to Petz. I really only meant it to be between us, but I could tell when she started to blush that he told her what I had said. Petz laughed. "She has two kids, but no husband." "Oh, that's okay, they can come to the States too," I said. He translated but by now she was embarrassed. She ignored us and looked very serious, still blushing. The rest of us laughed.
I changed into my dry clothes, cause my hiking clothes were soaked through. We sat around as the two women and Petz made dinner. When we ate we ate a feast of traditional Khmu food (or at least that's what I was told). Afterward the older woman left and Petz pulled out Lao Lao, a neon green rice whiskey. With a smirk on his face he poured a shot into a shot glass he carved from bamboo. He drank it and Pim laughed. He growled after he took it. He poured another and passed it to me. I drank it, it was very strong and so I growled too. Geoff drank it and then so did Pim. Petz started up again and Geoff said no, but we all had a few more. It was here that Petz told us what had happened to Pim's husband. "He was killed, bang!" and he pretended to shoot a gun. I asked what had happened. He explained that he went hunting with his best friend, who was afraid of the spirits that lived in the jungle. Her husband tried to spook him by shaking a tree, and so his friend shot into it several times. Her husband died right there.
Filled with Lao Lao we crawled under our mosquito nets in the small cabin. I fell asleep without any trouble. I woke up a few hours later to find that my left eye was burning. It felt like it was on fire. I got up and put in some drops but the pain only got worse. My stomach began to hurt and I began thrashing my feet around. "Mike, are you looking for a light?" asked Geoff. "No, I think I have an eye infection." "Oh bummer, want me to look at it?" "No thanks" I said. I didn't know what to do about it. With that he fell asleep and I was left to figure out what to do. I laid back down and tried to ignore it, but the pain grew worse and worse. I did my best to think of pleasant things. Of my home and Joanna, of sailing with my dad, and gardening with my mom. Of the poems I loved and the books I would write. I hoped that the pain would get lost in all these thoughts, but it always found its way back to me. It began to rain and I thought of my favorite Faulkner quote, "how often have I lain under rain on a strange roof, thinking of home?" The pain became unbearable and I passed out until morning.
Day 2.
I woke up still in pain. I walked over to see Petz. He was happy to see me and I told him that my eye was not good. He was able to figure this out when he looked at me. Pim walked over and tried to lift my eye lid. My eye was sensitive and hurt to open. I poured water into it several times hoping that something would come out, but the pain only got worse. I went back to my bed. Petz walked in to check up on me. "We continue or go back?" he asked. I weighed my options. I looked at him and Pim, and then at Geoff. I tried to think of what my dad would say: "If this was the middle aged they'd cut out your eye and you'd be back at work" (something like this would usually be said while waving a knife in my face). There was nothing I could do anyway, so I told him we would go on. I put on my contacts and suited up after breakfast. We said goodbye to the ladies and started to walk. My eye was excruciating. I couldn't look up so all I did was ignore it. We stopped after a few hours to rest. "How's your eye?" asked Geoff? "How does it look?" I asked. There was a pause. "Not good." "Yeah, that's how it feels." The hike was easier than the day before and as time went on my eye felt a bit better. I was able to see the beautiful mountains that bordered Burma and the flora that lined the trail.
Eventually we got to a river and crossed it. "What if the rain made this river too high?" I asked Petz. He laughed. "Then we go back." That wasn't comforting. We stopped for lunch. I picked up Petz's knife, "if my eye doesn't get better, you can cut it out" I said. He and Geoff laughed. Part of me was hoping he just would, I was in a lot of pain.
We hiked to the next camp which was a former Akha village. We met our Akha cook, an 18 year old who looked older than me. Geoff went to the creek to wash up and I decided to check for leeches. There were two small ones on my arm so I pulled them off. I lifted up my pants and noticed a lot of blood. I didn't remember getting cut. I pulled down my sock and notices a leech the size of my pinky finger on me. "Whoa!" Petz said. Later he told me that that was the biggest one he had ever seen on a person. I pulled it off and began to bleed all over the floor. Petz ran and got some herbs which he applied to the cut. The bleeding stopped and I was amazed. I tried to nap but my eye hurt too much.
While I was lying down I noticed mice on the inside of the roof above my head. "Tonight" said Petz "they will be dancing," and he pointed right next to my head.
I showered in a tiny waterfall only to be discovered naked by some hunters. I pulled off another leech I headed home and dinner was ready. After dinner there was more Lao Lao. This one was stronger. The cook also growled after he took it. The four of us talked for about an hour. We talked about Akha culture, women, America, traveling, and sports. We ended the night by putting up our mosquito nets and crawling in them.
I went to bed thinking about what we had talked about. About how in Akha life twins are considered evil and are killed while the parents are banished to the jungle for three months. About how 17 year old men make a small house to flirt with women in called a "love nest." I thought about many things and fell asleep to the sound of the rats playing above my head.
Day 3.
I woke up and my eye was much better. We set out early and took the shorter route home. We were given the option of a short or long route and I figured anyone who took the long route was an idiot, or had an agenda. I was finished with the jungle, for the second summer in a row. We walked home through the rice fields, the three of us, and I was glad to have good company.
The jungle is a funny place. As much as you want to be clean, you cannot, you cannot try to recreate any sort of civility while in the jungle. If a leech bites you, you must accept it and move on, if you twist your ankle, get bit by a thousand mosquitoes, or ripped by thorns, you must only accept it and move on. If you get an eye infection you must be ready to pull it out, 'cause there is nothing you can do about it, that's how the jungle is. You must only be civil in mind and not let your personality fall apart. All of us kept high spirits and joked around a lot. When you get to camp you can try to get as clean as you can, but you must remember that the next day you will go back into your wet smelly pants and your cold wet shoes.
In the movie Forrest Gump, Lt. Dan tells Bubba and Forrest to do two things. To always take care of your feet, and to not do anything stupid, like get killed. This is the same advice my friend Tim gives me every time I go somewhere. Its pretty solid advice. I was only able to manage one of those, and just barely, while in the jungle of Laos.
My guide's name was Petz. He's a 24 year old Laotian. He had a pleasant smile and huge forearms. I had met an American named Geoffery, he's a 55 year old sculptor from Santa Fe. I wasn't too thrilled about going with someone else. But he mentioned that he hiked frequently and all over the world. Besides, he was pleasant so far. In the end he turned out to be a better hiker that I was.
We started from a Khmu village just north of Luang Namtha. There we met our cooks. One was a 25 year old girl. She had strong facial features with high cheekbones and strong legs. She wore an old military coat, a camo hat, red lipstick, and flip flops. The other lady was older, but she looked tough. She carried the groceries in a bag that hung from her head along her back. From that village we walked to the trail.
The trail was tough, and sometimes non existent. Heavy rain, including a recent cyclone, washed away the bridges and trails. Often we had to swing from the brances of trees to get to the other side of a trail. The ladies, in their flip flops, seemed to have no trouble with the path. They even seemed amused that I was having such a hard time. Geoff was doing about as well as I was, and Petz walked at a fair pace. He said we had been making good time, and I liked to believe him.
After some dramatic river crossings and a beautiful waterfall, we made it to our camp. The ladies, who I thought we lost behind us, met us there. I was both confused and amazed. When I got there, Pim, the younger of the two ladies, was repairing a watch with a huge knife. "wow, and she repairs watches?" Geoff said. "Can I marry her?" I said to Petz. I really only meant it to be between us, but I could tell when she started to blush that he told her what I had said. Petz laughed. "She has two kids, but no husband." "Oh, that's okay, they can come to the States too," I said. He translated but by now she was embarrassed. She ignored us and looked very serious, still blushing. The rest of us laughed.
I changed into my dry clothes, cause my hiking clothes were soaked through. We sat around as the two women and Petz made dinner. When we ate we ate a feast of traditional Khmu food (or at least that's what I was told). Afterward the older woman left and Petz pulled out Lao Lao, a neon green rice whiskey. With a smirk on his face he poured a shot into a shot glass he carved from bamboo. He drank it and Pim laughed. He growled after he took it. He poured another and passed it to me. I drank it, it was very strong and so I growled too. Geoff drank it and then so did Pim. Petz started up again and Geoff said no, but we all had a few more. It was here that Petz told us what had happened to Pim's husband. "He was killed, bang!" and he pretended to shoot a gun. I asked what had happened. He explained that he went hunting with his best friend, who was afraid of the spirits that lived in the jungle. Her husband tried to spook him by shaking a tree, and so his friend shot into it several times. Her husband died right there.
Filled with Lao Lao we crawled under our mosquito nets in the small cabin. I fell asleep without any trouble. I woke up a few hours later to find that my left eye was burning. It felt like it was on fire. I got up and put in some drops but the pain only got worse. My stomach began to hurt and I began thrashing my feet around. "Mike, are you looking for a light?" asked Geoff. "No, I think I have an eye infection." "Oh bummer, want me to look at it?" "No thanks" I said. I didn't know what to do about it. With that he fell asleep and I was left to figure out what to do. I laid back down and tried to ignore it, but the pain grew worse and worse. I did my best to think of pleasant things. Of my home and Joanna, of sailing with my dad, and gardening with my mom. Of the poems I loved and the books I would write. I hoped that the pain would get lost in all these thoughts, but it always found its way back to me. It began to rain and I thought of my favorite Faulkner quote, "how often have I lain under rain on a strange roof, thinking of home?" The pain became unbearable and I passed out until morning.
Day 2.
I woke up still in pain. I walked over to see Petz. He was happy to see me and I told him that my eye was not good. He was able to figure this out when he looked at me. Pim walked over and tried to lift my eye lid. My eye was sensitive and hurt to open. I poured water into it several times hoping that something would come out, but the pain only got worse. I went back to my bed. Petz walked in to check up on me. "We continue or go back?" he asked. I weighed my options. I looked at him and Pim, and then at Geoff. I tried to think of what my dad would say: "If this was the middle aged they'd cut out your eye and you'd be back at work" (something like this would usually be said while waving a knife in my face). There was nothing I could do anyway, so I told him we would go on. I put on my contacts and suited up after breakfast. We said goodbye to the ladies and started to walk. My eye was excruciating. I couldn't look up so all I did was ignore it. We stopped after a few hours to rest. "How's your eye?" asked Geoff? "How does it look?" I asked. There was a pause. "Not good." "Yeah, that's how it feels." The hike was easier than the day before and as time went on my eye felt a bit better. I was able to see the beautiful mountains that bordered Burma and the flora that lined the trail.
Eventually we got to a river and crossed it. "What if the rain made this river too high?" I asked Petz. He laughed. "Then we go back." That wasn't comforting. We stopped for lunch. I picked up Petz's knife, "if my eye doesn't get better, you can cut it out" I said. He and Geoff laughed. Part of me was hoping he just would, I was in a lot of pain.
We hiked to the next camp which was a former Akha village. We met our Akha cook, an 18 year old who looked older than me. Geoff went to the creek to wash up and I decided to check for leeches. There were two small ones on my arm so I pulled them off. I lifted up my pants and noticed a lot of blood. I didn't remember getting cut. I pulled down my sock and notices a leech the size of my pinky finger on me. "Whoa!" Petz said. Later he told me that that was the biggest one he had ever seen on a person. I pulled it off and began to bleed all over the floor. Petz ran and got some herbs which he applied to the cut. The bleeding stopped and I was amazed. I tried to nap but my eye hurt too much.
While I was lying down I noticed mice on the inside of the roof above my head. "Tonight" said Petz "they will be dancing," and he pointed right next to my head.
I showered in a tiny waterfall only to be discovered naked by some hunters. I pulled off another leech I headed home and dinner was ready. After dinner there was more Lao Lao. This one was stronger. The cook also growled after he took it. The four of us talked for about an hour. We talked about Akha culture, women, America, traveling, and sports. We ended the night by putting up our mosquito nets and crawling in them.
I went to bed thinking about what we had talked about. About how in Akha life twins are considered evil and are killed while the parents are banished to the jungle for three months. About how 17 year old men make a small house to flirt with women in called a "love nest." I thought about many things and fell asleep to the sound of the rats playing above my head.
Day 3.
I woke up and my eye was much better. We set out early and took the shorter route home. We were given the option of a short or long route and I figured anyone who took the long route was an idiot, or had an agenda. I was finished with the jungle, for the second summer in a row. We walked home through the rice fields, the three of us, and I was glad to have good company.
The jungle is a funny place. As much as you want to be clean, you cannot, you cannot try to recreate any sort of civility while in the jungle. If a leech bites you, you must accept it and move on, if you twist your ankle, get bit by a thousand mosquitoes, or ripped by thorns, you must only accept it and move on. If you get an eye infection you must be ready to pull it out, 'cause there is nothing you can do about it, that's how the jungle is. You must only be civil in mind and not let your personality fall apart. All of us kept high spirits and joked around a lot. When you get to camp you can try to get as clean as you can, but you must remember that the next day you will go back into your wet smelly pants and your cold wet shoes.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Wowwy wow Lao
The quiet calm streets of Vientiane, Laos's capital, comes as a shock after every other city I've been to in Asia so far. No swarming children asking for money, taxi drivers offering me drugs, or androgynous prostitutes telling me Im handsome (ladies, please, I know, I know!) Rather the city moves slowly and the white noise of traffic is scare.
The last few days have been a whirlwind filled with temples which echo a deeply spiritual ancient civilization, as well as dancing and jovial meals. The temples of Angkor Wat and the like were beautiful. Their unbelievable architecture deeply contrasts to the western architecture to which I am usually exposed. At night Hoang and I toured the restaurants, markets, and clubs.
The plane to Laos was small, about the size of a bus, and had two very loud propellers. Tomorrow I head up north, to the border of Myanmar where I will go camping for 3 days and live with the Khmu people. Expect more when I get back.
The last few days have been a whirlwind filled with temples which echo a deeply spiritual ancient civilization, as well as dancing and jovial meals. The temples of Angkor Wat and the like were beautiful. Their unbelievable architecture deeply contrasts to the western architecture to which I am usually exposed. At night Hoang and I toured the restaurants, markets, and clubs.
The plane to Laos was small, about the size of a bus, and had two very loud propellers. Tomorrow I head up north, to the border of Myanmar where I will go camping for 3 days and live with the Khmu people. Expect more when I get back.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Phnom Phen -- not just an onamonapedic word for eating!
Phnom Phen, Cambodia's capital city, is beautiful. It much more laid back than Saigon and retains real style. The buildings here range from old Khmer architecture to a French-Colonial skyline. I came here by boat on the Mekong and met a Vietnamese man on vacation named Hoang.
While sitting and enjoying a drink after dinner a 16 year old girl came in with pile of books. This is a very common sight here, but she was unusual because she looked just like my students, from teh sloppy sideways pony tail, to the colorful headband, skinny jeans, and "yo, don't mess with me" attitude. "You want by books sir?" she asked. "No, I'm good thanks." She wouldn't accept this. "You didn't even look at them! Look, Look!" So i glanced at them. I pointed to "Into Thin Air" "Oh I just saw that movie." She took the book out of the pile. "But you no read the book!" she said as she slammed it on the table. I looked at Hoang. He was too busy hitting on our beautiful waitress. He was doing a damn good job too.
"But I don't want to read it" I replied. "How about 'Life of Pi'?" "I read it already." "UGH!" she yelled. "You should read it!" I said. "I'll buy a book for you to read." The teacher in me just cant be put down. "Yeah okay, I read it. She pulled it out and started reading the back aloud. She sounded out the words and I helped her with the difficult ones. She told me she had only been studying English for 2 months. "You read better than my students" I said, and sadly that wasn't a lie. I asked her where she got the books from and she said her parents gave them to her. I asked her if she had to do homework. "I get home too tired to do it. But I get good grade, I second in class." Eventually I spotted "The Motorcycle Diaries" by Che Guivara. "Oh I wanted to read that, I saw the movie on the plane." Seh pulled it out. I agreed to buy it for four dollars. I gave her a 20 but she didn't have change. "I no sell books so I no have money." She left the book with me and said she would come back for the money later. I tried to brake the 20 at the bar, but they were afraid I was trying to get rid of a fake.
When she left I cut back into Hoang's conversation with the waitress. She was talking: "well I have to go to my..." "Husband?" Hoang cut in. "...friends party." she replied. After she left he was smiling. "I want to go to a place with music. Lets go find music." I paid and went to find the book girl. I found her selling another book to someone else. She forgot about her money. I gave her a 5 and she went to get change. "Keep it" I said. She looked at me and placed her hands together as a Buddhist in prayer and said "Thank you sir." She was much more serious now than before. "No go do your homework!" I said while laughing. "Yes!" she said.
I wanted to drop off the book before we went dancing. On our way to our hotel, though, we found what seemed like a dance club. I wanted to go back but I could tell Hoang was dieing to meet some girls. I stayed true to my wingman duties and went in with him. It wasnt a dance club at all though. We were the only guys tehre and there were about 10 girls, listening to club music and watching Hanna Barberra cartoons. We sat down and looked at a drink menu. Hoang pointed to the bottom of the menu where it said "Lady drink $3." I didn't realize it but he was telling me that we were in a brothel. So one girl tried to chat it up with me, only to find out as many have found out before her that I am very awkward. I left for the bathroom and when I came back Hoang was talking to the girl who had been sitting next to me. She didn't seem as oblivious and ditsy as before. She was all business. "...yeah you can find girls there but if you want fuck you stay here. $50. But not here, we fuck outside." Thats when I understood what was going on. I stood in horror. Hoang was awkwardly laughing and repeated what she said. At the same time we put money on the table, "well we gotta go!" "You be back tomorrow?" "Uh yeah, sure, whatever, goodbye!" and we ran out the door. "In my country, they just say, 'you want boom boom?'" Hoang said outside between laughing.
So we decided to take the night easy. We pulled into an Irish pub for a a beer. There was an Englishman sitting at the bar. As I learned through the night he had gotten really drunk a few nights before and fell asleep by the river, only to be woken by the police. A woman walked him home and slept with him. He told her to get him some drugs and in the process she stole his key. Every night since he has come home to a prostitute stealing his stuff.
Teh bar was filled with sleazes like him, but they were great to talk to. The owner of teh bar, Rory, had left to bail his friend out of a bar fight. His friend, Tom, was the author of the New Zealand constitution, and was currently writing Iraq's. But he was a drunk, and a fighter. I spent the night talking to everyone there and by 2:15 I realized that not only did I have to be up early to work at the orphanage the next morning, I had also broken my hotel's closing hour and couldn't get in. Arida, the owners wife, a Cambodian, let me stay at the hotel, which she owned, which was right upstairs, free of charge.
I was up this morning delivering 50 kl of rice to the orphanage and getting schooled in soccer by 6th grade Cambodian orphans.
And this is my vacation.
While sitting and enjoying a drink after dinner a 16 year old girl came in with pile of books. This is a very common sight here, but she was unusual because she looked just like my students, from teh sloppy sideways pony tail, to the colorful headband, skinny jeans, and "yo, don't mess with me" attitude. "You want by books sir?" she asked. "No, I'm good thanks." She wouldn't accept this. "You didn't even look at them! Look, Look!" So i glanced at them. I pointed to "Into Thin Air" "Oh I just saw that movie." She took the book out of the pile. "But you no read the book!" she said as she slammed it on the table. I looked at Hoang. He was too busy hitting on our beautiful waitress. He was doing a damn good job too.
"But I don't want to read it" I replied. "How about 'Life of Pi'?" "I read it already." "UGH!" she yelled. "You should read it!" I said. "I'll buy a book for you to read." The teacher in me just cant be put down. "Yeah okay, I read it. She pulled it out and started reading the back aloud. She sounded out the words and I helped her with the difficult ones. She told me she had only been studying English for 2 months. "You read better than my students" I said, and sadly that wasn't a lie. I asked her where she got the books from and she said her parents gave them to her. I asked her if she had to do homework. "I get home too tired to do it. But I get good grade, I second in class." Eventually I spotted "The Motorcycle Diaries" by Che Guivara. "Oh I wanted to read that, I saw the movie on the plane." Seh pulled it out. I agreed to buy it for four dollars. I gave her a 20 but she didn't have change. "I no sell books so I no have money." She left the book with me and said she would come back for the money later. I tried to brake the 20 at the bar, but they were afraid I was trying to get rid of a fake.
When she left I cut back into Hoang's conversation with the waitress. She was talking: "well I have to go to my..." "Husband?" Hoang cut in. "...friends party." she replied. After she left he was smiling. "I want to go to a place with music. Lets go find music." I paid and went to find the book girl. I found her selling another book to someone else. She forgot about her money. I gave her a 5 and she went to get change. "Keep it" I said. She looked at me and placed her hands together as a Buddhist in prayer and said "Thank you sir." She was much more serious now than before. "No go do your homework!" I said while laughing. "Yes!" she said.
I wanted to drop off the book before we went dancing. On our way to our hotel, though, we found what seemed like a dance club. I wanted to go back but I could tell Hoang was dieing to meet some girls. I stayed true to my wingman duties and went in with him. It wasnt a dance club at all though. We were the only guys tehre and there were about 10 girls, listening to club music and watching Hanna Barberra cartoons. We sat down and looked at a drink menu. Hoang pointed to the bottom of the menu where it said "Lady drink $3." I didn't realize it but he was telling me that we were in a brothel. So one girl tried to chat it up with me, only to find out as many have found out before her that I am very awkward. I left for the bathroom and when I came back Hoang was talking to the girl who had been sitting next to me. She didn't seem as oblivious and ditsy as before. She was all business. "...yeah you can find girls there but if you want fuck you stay here. $50. But not here, we fuck outside." Thats when I understood what was going on. I stood in horror. Hoang was awkwardly laughing and repeated what she said. At the same time we put money on the table, "well we gotta go!" "You be back tomorrow?" "Uh yeah, sure, whatever, goodbye!" and we ran out the door. "In my country, they just say, 'you want boom boom?'" Hoang said outside between laughing.
So we decided to take the night easy. We pulled into an Irish pub for a a beer. There was an Englishman sitting at the bar. As I learned through the night he had gotten really drunk a few nights before and fell asleep by the river, only to be woken by the police. A woman walked him home and slept with him. He told her to get him some drugs and in the process she stole his key. Every night since he has come home to a prostitute stealing his stuff.
Teh bar was filled with sleazes like him, but they were great to talk to. The owner of teh bar, Rory, had left to bail his friend out of a bar fight. His friend, Tom, was the author of the New Zealand constitution, and was currently writing Iraq's. But he was a drunk, and a fighter. I spent the night talking to everyone there and by 2:15 I realized that not only did I have to be up early to work at the orphanage the next morning, I had also broken my hotel's closing hour and couldn't get in. Arida, the owners wife, a Cambodian, let me stay at the hotel, which she owned, which was right upstairs, free of charge.
I was up this morning delivering 50 kl of rice to the orphanage and getting schooled in soccer by 6th grade Cambodian orphans.
And this is my vacation.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Bus rides and motobikes, beer and children.
The dusty bus stop was hot and sticky. My light green shirt had turned dark green with sweat. I was trying to figure out if the American that had just pulled up in his own motorcycle and disappeared into the back of the station was sex tourist or not. Every time I see a middle aged male traveler who is traveling alone I wonder if he is a sex tourist, I wonder if people think the same of me. Man, watching "Locked Up Abroad" in my hotel room the night before was a bad idea. Suddenly a little man sitting in a plastic chair shot up and tossed on his flip flops. He hailed down a minibus that said "Chau Doc," my destination. I picked up my bag but the driver said no and went off. This was the third time this has happened. Since I don't speak Vietnamese no one wants to be responsible for me.
I opted to take the regular big bus, packed with locals. I could have taken the tourist bus but no, I had to go this route. My bus eventually came. I stepped on with my two packs and looked for a seat. The woman who was standing in the isle looked over at me and then said something in Vietnamese and then began to laugh. Everyone else looked at me and laughed too. Oh boy. I sat down on my bag in the isle. A man came over and pushed aside a little boy and an old lady and told me to please sit down, or maybe to go fuck myself, I dunno, either one.
I was sweating even more now and the guy behind me, who was about my age, tapped me on the shoulder. He gave me a wet wipe. "Where do you like?" he asked. "Uhh, wha?" This went on for a while until we sat down at a rest stop where be bought me a juice. I told him I was from New York and he was from Singapore, I think. We got back on the bus and eventually I got to my town. When they opened the undercarrage to get out my bag two ducks were sitting on top of it.
It was tehre that I met a mototaxi driver. He told me that after I get settled in at my hotel he would take me around town. He showed me a flyer he made that said, "If you don't have a good time, you don't pay me!" "Okay" I said and I gave him a thumbs up.
As we were heading off it started to rain. We went off road into a farming village. Villagers cheered for us as we slipped around on the mud. One lady looked happy to see me. She was smiling and I smiled back. She started to laugh and slapped me as I went by. "What did she say?' I asked. "She want you to come for dinner."
After that we went to the top of a mountain. He bought me a beer and we overlooked mass rice fields in both Vietnam and Cambodia. As the clouds vanished purple mountains revealed themselves to us. We talked about the Vietnam war, and women. It was a very peaceful night. I had a blast with this man who charged me $7 (I gave him 10), the day before I had a boring trip that cost me a fortune. Go figure.
This morning I took a boat to Phnom Phen where I met two other travelers. We talked about the world up and our travels. I explained to them that I had to watch the world cup at 1AM with the hotel employees in the lobby, and that during the last world cup I had to do the same in Sri Lanka.
I asked one of the travelers, Hoang, a tour guide on vacation from Hanoi if the Vietnamese were bitter towards Americans. "No," he explained, "we learn to forget the past. That in order to move on we must look forward, not backward. If Americans are nice then we like them. He explained taht once he gave atour to John McCain's friends.
We took a mototaxi to our hotel and our driver spoke perfect English. He sounded like a cross between John Wayne and Crocodile Dun Dee. I asked him why he spoke such good English. "I teach English in an orphanage." I told him I wanted to volunteer. "Yes okay," he said, "I pick you up tomorrow, you play football with the kids." I laughed. The last time I played soccer with little kids was also four years ago, in Sri Lanka.
I opted to take the regular big bus, packed with locals. I could have taken the tourist bus but no, I had to go this route. My bus eventually came. I stepped on with my two packs and looked for a seat. The woman who was standing in the isle looked over at me and then said something in Vietnamese and then began to laugh. Everyone else looked at me and laughed too. Oh boy. I sat down on my bag in the isle. A man came over and pushed aside a little boy and an old lady and told me to please sit down, or maybe to go fuck myself, I dunno, either one.
I was sweating even more now and the guy behind me, who was about my age, tapped me on the shoulder. He gave me a wet wipe. "Where do you like?" he asked. "Uhh, wha?" This went on for a while until we sat down at a rest stop where be bought me a juice. I told him I was from New York and he was from Singapore, I think. We got back on the bus and eventually I got to my town. When they opened the undercarrage to get out my bag two ducks were sitting on top of it.
It was tehre that I met a mototaxi driver. He told me that after I get settled in at my hotel he would take me around town. He showed me a flyer he made that said, "If you don't have a good time, you don't pay me!" "Okay" I said and I gave him a thumbs up.
As we were heading off it started to rain. We went off road into a farming village. Villagers cheered for us as we slipped around on the mud. One lady looked happy to see me. She was smiling and I smiled back. She started to laugh and slapped me as I went by. "What did she say?' I asked. "She want you to come for dinner."
After that we went to the top of a mountain. He bought me a beer and we overlooked mass rice fields in both Vietnam and Cambodia. As the clouds vanished purple mountains revealed themselves to us. We talked about the Vietnam war, and women. It was a very peaceful night. I had a blast with this man who charged me $7 (I gave him 10), the day before I had a boring trip that cost me a fortune. Go figure.
This morning I took a boat to Phnom Phen where I met two other travelers. We talked about the world up and our travels. I explained to them that I had to watch the world cup at 1AM with the hotel employees in the lobby, and that during the last world cup I had to do the same in Sri Lanka.
I asked one of the travelers, Hoang, a tour guide on vacation from Hanoi if the Vietnamese were bitter towards Americans. "No," he explained, "we learn to forget the past. That in order to move on we must look forward, not backward. If Americans are nice then we like them. He explained taht once he gave atour to John McCain's friends.
We took a mototaxi to our hotel and our driver spoke perfect English. He sounded like a cross between John Wayne and Crocodile Dun Dee. I asked him why he spoke such good English. "I teach English in an orphanage." I told him I wanted to volunteer. "Yes okay," he said, "I pick you up tomorrow, you play football with the kids." I laughed. The last time I played soccer with little kids was also four years ago, in Sri Lanka.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
The first few days.
The name of my hotel in Ho Chi Minh city, was "Madam Cuc." It was run by five good looking women in their late 20's. No, it's not a brothel. But the girls that ran it were great. After showing me to my room the girl asked, "everything okay?" "Great" I said. They right before she walked out of the room she turned around. "Oh, one more thing," she paused, "what is this on your shirt?" I looked down and BAM! she did the finger to the nose thing. They seemed to enjoy messing with all of the customers, and they were good at it.
I got there late at night so the next morning I got up early to explore the city. I went down for my free breakfast where I ran into an Australian named Paul. He was solo too so together we headed out to walk around the city. HCMC is a pretty crazy place. Beautiful women stand in the doorway of stores and restaurants calling you in. "Hey you, come here please!" I know better than to be fooled by them, I wasn't so sure about Paul, though.
We took the first day easy. Walked around, went through the markets, enjoyed a few beers while it rained in the afternoon. At night we decided to get a few at a bar. We walked passed an American themes bar named "Seventeen Saloon" It was shaped like a log cabin. On the inside the waitresses wore shirts that exposed their stomachs with the Texas flag on it. It was too much for me but Paul seemed to like the waitresses, so we stuck around.
The next day we took a bus to Cu Chi, the site of some of the tunnels which had been left over from the Vietnam war. We had a tour guide who was a Vietnamese war vet. He worked as a translator for the US army. "I wanted to be a priest, but after all of the things I saw in the war I changed my views on things, now I have a family." He told us that we would learn a lot about the Vietnam War, and that most of it was produced by the government. "In the war museum you will see many things that the US did. It is terrible. But is only one perspective. I remember seeing people buried alike in Hue during the Tet offensive. Those pictures aren't in the museum." He always threw in something deep, usually between jokes.
On the bus we met another Aussie who was just finishing up a 5 month trip. He saw New York, South America, and most of South East Asia. He was a rugby player and my age, we got along great. The three of us went through the tunnels all the while patiently waiting for what we were really there for, and eventually it came. For whatever reason the parl also has a shooting range, in which one can shoot automatic weapons. "I want to shoot the biggest thing you got." "Ah, ahaha, okay. Yes. M60 then." Paul shot an m16 and an AK 47, and so did James, the other Aussie.
That night we went out for some BBQ and a few beers. We sat on a roof and talked about rugby and music, women and traveling. We ended the night early. The next day James had an early flight to a small city on the beach for scuba lessons, something I hope to do at the end of my trip. Paul was going to stick around for another day, and I was going to the Mekong Delta. There were very touristy packages that I could have taken to get there, but I opted for the local buses. A decision I'm not yet sure of. I guess I hoped it would be more enriching that it really was. Had I gone the touristy route at least I would have probably found a new travel partner. But there is still more to come as tomorrow I go to the Cambodia-Vietnam border.
The three of us stood outside last night shaking hands and exchanging E-mail addresses, wishing each other safe journeys. This morning I ran into Paul at the hotel. He was booking a beach resort for the next day. We shook hands and he seemed nervous. He didn't seem too sure of himself. I wasn't sure if I liked him. He was nice, but a wimp. He should not have been traveling alone. "Safe journeys man" he said. I could tell that he wanted me to go with him. I had a great time in HCMC, but it was time to move on. There is always more and I may be alone for the rest of this journey, or I might not. There's always more everything in the next city.
I got there late at night so the next morning I got up early to explore the city. I went down for my free breakfast where I ran into an Australian named Paul. He was solo too so together we headed out to walk around the city. HCMC is a pretty crazy place. Beautiful women stand in the doorway of stores and restaurants calling you in. "Hey you, come here please!" I know better than to be fooled by them, I wasn't so sure about Paul, though.
We took the first day easy. Walked around, went through the markets, enjoyed a few beers while it rained in the afternoon. At night we decided to get a few at a bar. We walked passed an American themes bar named "Seventeen Saloon" It was shaped like a log cabin. On the inside the waitresses wore shirts that exposed their stomachs with the Texas flag on it. It was too much for me but Paul seemed to like the waitresses, so we stuck around.
The next day we took a bus to Cu Chi, the site of some of the tunnels which had been left over from the Vietnam war. We had a tour guide who was a Vietnamese war vet. He worked as a translator for the US army. "I wanted to be a priest, but after all of the things I saw in the war I changed my views on things, now I have a family." He told us that we would learn a lot about the Vietnam War, and that most of it was produced by the government. "In the war museum you will see many things that the US did. It is terrible. But is only one perspective. I remember seeing people buried alike in Hue during the Tet offensive. Those pictures aren't in the museum." He always threw in something deep, usually between jokes.
On the bus we met another Aussie who was just finishing up a 5 month trip. He saw New York, South America, and most of South East Asia. He was a rugby player and my age, we got along great. The three of us went through the tunnels all the while patiently waiting for what we were really there for, and eventually it came. For whatever reason the parl also has a shooting range, in which one can shoot automatic weapons. "I want to shoot the biggest thing you got." "Ah, ahaha, okay. Yes. M60 then." Paul shot an m16 and an AK 47, and so did James, the other Aussie.
That night we went out for some BBQ and a few beers. We sat on a roof and talked about rugby and music, women and traveling. We ended the night early. The next day James had an early flight to a small city on the beach for scuba lessons, something I hope to do at the end of my trip. Paul was going to stick around for another day, and I was going to the Mekong Delta. There were very touristy packages that I could have taken to get there, but I opted for the local buses. A decision I'm not yet sure of. I guess I hoped it would be more enriching that it really was. Had I gone the touristy route at least I would have probably found a new travel partner. But there is still more to come as tomorrow I go to the Cambodia-Vietnam border.
The three of us stood outside last night shaking hands and exchanging E-mail addresses, wishing each other safe journeys. This morning I ran into Paul at the hotel. He was booking a beach resort for the next day. We shook hands and he seemed nervous. He didn't seem too sure of himself. I wasn't sure if I liked him. He was nice, but a wimp. He should not have been traveling alone. "Safe journeys man" he said. I could tell that he wanted me to go with him. I had a great time in HCMC, but it was time to move on. There is always more and I may be alone for the rest of this journey, or I might not. There's always more everything in the next city.
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