Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Follow-up
I feel like I should follow-up on last night's post to clarify what's going on and so as not to put anyone in an unfair light. Here's the recent history of Cherise and me:
A little over three months ago, Cherise came to Lancaster for a three-month contract that was to end today, December 30th. Before she got here I remember thinking to myself that I was interested to see her, since I hadn't seen her face-to-face since March 2007: a year and a half ago. During that interval we did keep in touch, admittedly most of the time because she would reach out to me, and not as often the other way around.
A significant point in our time apart was just this past June, on her birthday. I was working at the time, but there was a lot of downtime that day. I spent the whole day thinking about her, and I made a list of the things about her that make me love her, along with a list of things that concern me as potential impediments to a future relationship. Of the latter, I didn't think that there was anything that couldn't be fixed or addressed, as long as we really committed to each other one day, namely in marriage. But at that time, Cherise was in the middle of a 7-month contract on a cruise ship around the world. So I never shared my thoughts with her.
Fast-forward to right before she got to Lancaster three months ago. I was at a point where I really wanted a relationship with someone. As I said, I was very interested and a bit excited to see Cherise, but I focused on keeping my expectations modest: I just wanted to see what my gut told me the moment I saw her face-to-face.
As fate would have it, only days before Cherise landed at Philadelphia International Airport, I went out one night on the town with my really good friend, Corey, and my sister, Jessica. That night I met a girl named Diana. My first impression was that I was really attracted to her. And after exchanging numbers that night we met, beginning the next day she showered me with attention. It was something that I really liked. Even besides that, I liked her for two big reasons: she lived in Philly and she spoke Spanish pretty well. Stepping back, I know that distance was the undoing of Cherise and me that led to me breaking up with her. And a part of me always wondered if my cultural background was so core to my sense of self that I needed to be with someone who was Latina or at least spoke Spanish.
Diana had entered the picture at a key moment. After several days of amazing attention from Diana, Cherise was flying into PHL, and she had asked me to meet her there, which I still very much wanted to do. For better or for worse, though, my mindset was not as open-minded as it would have been had I not met Diana. And this has implications for why I'm feeling so hurt that Cherise is refusing to spend New Year's Eve with me, and instead told me that she's not breaking plans that she made at least a month ago with a 25 year-old kid from New York (who she met, incidentally, years ago on a flight from Long Beach, California back to Philly to be with me).
For the first month that Cherise was here, I saw her two, maybe three, times. Each time I was very distant and aloof. My mind was on Diana. It's important to note, though, that Cherise asked me to consider moving out to Los Angeles to live and be with her; I rejected that idea out of hand. But the point is that she came to Lancaster to be near me and see if we could start a relationship again. The timing, unfortunately I would say, was off.
I did very little to reach out to Cherise from the time she got to Lancaster until Election Day, when I left on my three-week trip to southeast Asia: a whole month where I did little if anything to initiate communication, but instead focused on my blossoming relationship with Diana. I thought I was doing the right thing; I liked all the positive attention that I was getting and I was happy to reciprocate.
But, looking back, I think that knowing that I was leaving made me speed things up with Diana, where I really should've taken it much slower to be sure that I was beginning things with the right person. While I was in southeast Asia, I emailed Diana every single day of my trip. But certain thoughts and self-reflections, which I won't get into here, made me begin to realize, at the deepest levels within me, that I wasn't ready for or interested in a serious relationship with her. It took me returning to Philly, seeing Diana face-to-face again, and the first few days of downtime back here at home to really comprehend that I couldn't pursue a relationship with her. I felt terrible for that mistake, because I didn't want to hurt Diana, but I knew that I had to back out then, because I wasn't going to live a fraud.
I came back to Philly only a few days before Thanksgiving. I remember that I had mentioned to Cherise before she got here on the East Coast that she could spend Thanksgiving with my family; I remember that on Thanksgiving that I thought about her a lot, but I didn't invite her because I was too guilty since I was still in the difficult process of talking to Diana and expressing my change of heart to her. But deep down, I really wished that Cherise had been with me for Thanksgiving; that was probably a mistake on part to not be more communicative and invite her.
Only a week later I celebrated my birthday, on December 5th. Cherise was the very first person, among all my friends and family, to wish me a happy birthday. It made me feel happy to hear from her. Metaphorically, it was like she was knocking on the door again, and this time I was prepared and happy to begin slowly opening the door. We began talking and hanging out consistently from then until now. So of course long-buried feelings were uncovered, or at least I can say that for me they were (not to say that she didn't have feelings, but I'm trying to be careful not to make assumptions unless she explicitly said or did something).
So here's where I have to back-up. Early in her contract, Cherise tore her calf muscle. She didn't call me to tell me about it; and I was really calling her because I was busy with Diana. Since I didn't know what happened, I couldn't act on what I didn't know and show my caring and concern for her. But by that point she had already met some other guys, three that she told me of, that were showing her attention. Looking at this situation objectively, neither one of us was doing anything wrong; we were both single and we were seeing other people.
But I feel like Cherise is punishing me now for not being there for her at the beginning of her contract, even though we were both single and had no obligation to each other. And I think she loves me, but she'd prefer to be in a relationship that she has complete control over: she's 30 years old and surely has the control over the 25 year-old. And I think that stems from her fear of being hurt again by me: that I would let her down or break up with her again.
As it relates to my current predicament with Cherise, my timing with Diana was really unfortunate. But I say that it took that short relationship, and the opportunity to step back from the situation on my trip to southeast Asia, that made me begin to realize and even start to accept that I still love Cherise and that I'd like to spend the rest of my life with her. Can I be faulted for the events that led me to that conclusion? Should I be punished for coming to my senses? You tell me.
So here's how this created Cherise's rejection of me for New Year's Eve. Back at least a month ago, the 25 year-old kid asked Cherise to promise to spend New Year's Eve with him; she promised him that she would. She told me that she would not break her promise to him, especially since he made the effort to visit her when she was on crutches from the torn calf muscle and had visited her (at least one more time that I know of) while she was out in Lancaster.
This has totally broken my heart because the way I look at it, she's choosing him over me. But if I step back, she was single (and thus had no obligation to me) when she began spending time with him and made the promise to spend New Year's Eve with him. In an abstract sense, I really can't blame her honor for refusing to break a promise.
But here's the real problem: now I fear that I have no chance with her. I'm scared to take a risk to show her that I want to begin a committed, exclusive relationship with her, one that will eventually lead to marriage.
I did my best to overcome that fear by going out to Lancaster yesterday with a dozen long-stem red roses. And before she dropped me off at the Lancaster train station against my will, I showed her the gold necklace with the diamond charm that I wanted to give her as a Christmas gift. Although I showed her the necklace, I refused to give it to her, because I felt in the moment that she didn't deserve it; she was telling me to leave because she had plans later that night with someone else. As you can imagine, my imagination began to run amok. And I've been a mess ever since, sad and scared that I lost the chance to be with the woman that I love.
Cherise called me shortly after she had dropped me off to make sure that I was okay. Among other things she said in the short conversation, she told me to have faith. She didn't elaborate on what she meant by that. Then, this morning she sent me a text message saying "Good morning!" A couple hours later, I replied in a text message by saying "I miss you. I'm so sad, it hurts. I wish I was there to see you today." Only a few minutes later, she texted back: "Believe it or not. I miss you too!" And finally, I texted back a couple hours later: "I believe you. That's why we should see each other again while you're here." That was 5:18pm today, right around the time her final show was ending. I haven't heard back from her since.
I just tried calling her a few minutes ago, just before 2am here. She didn't answer and I didn't leave a message. I want her to see that I'm thinking about her, even if she's with someone else right now. In the past, my defensive mechanism is to shut down all lines of communication, refuse to reply to any communication initiated by her, and basically go AWOL. I'm trying to overcome that defensive mechanism because I know that our chances for a real relationship are running out. I know that I have to do my part to change past patterns if we are to start something new.
As much as I still really hurt, I'm somewhat resigned to the fact that Cherise will be with someone else for New Year's Eve. I really, truly hope, though, that she calls me tomorrow to say that she wants to be with me. But I'm not going to bank on it.
What I'm banking on is that she told me to have faith. Once she completes her promise to this guy, I need her to accept my offer to be faithful to her and I need her to promise to be faithful to me. She flies out on January 1st to San Diego for a three-month contract on a cruise ship there. I want to have an exclusive relationship with her beginning immediately when she goes out there. If she promises this to me, then I'll book a ticket right away to go to San Diego on the first flight that I can find. If she loves me, then she'll want a relationship with me, just as she expressed when she saw me again three months ago. As soon as we begin the exclusive relationship, I'll really focus on adding more money to my savings to buy a ring to propose to her before this time next year, if not much sooner.
My biggest fear here is that she'll say that she doesn't want to promise to be faithful or exclusive with me. I simply can't compete with other guys. I've been in the picture (in her life and in her heart, one way or another) for over five years, since September 20, 2003. She should know by now whether she wants to be married to me or not. I'm not going to compete with guys that just entered the picture a few months ago; I'm too tired for competition and I'm not so foolish to chase a woman who wants to play the field.
If she doesn't want to promise to be faithful or exclusive with me first thing after the new year, then I'll have to walk away.
Cherise, if you read this, and if you love me, then please let's just be together.
A little over three months ago, Cherise came to Lancaster for a three-month contract that was to end today, December 30th. Before she got here I remember thinking to myself that I was interested to see her, since I hadn't seen her face-to-face since March 2007: a year and a half ago. During that interval we did keep in touch, admittedly most of the time because she would reach out to me, and not as often the other way around.
A significant point in our time apart was just this past June, on her birthday. I was working at the time, but there was a lot of downtime that day. I spent the whole day thinking about her, and I made a list of the things about her that make me love her, along with a list of things that concern me as potential impediments to a future relationship. Of the latter, I didn't think that there was anything that couldn't be fixed or addressed, as long as we really committed to each other one day, namely in marriage. But at that time, Cherise was in the middle of a 7-month contract on a cruise ship around the world. So I never shared my thoughts with her.
Fast-forward to right before she got to Lancaster three months ago. I was at a point where I really wanted a relationship with someone. As I said, I was very interested and a bit excited to see Cherise, but I focused on keeping my expectations modest: I just wanted to see what my gut told me the moment I saw her face-to-face.
As fate would have it, only days before Cherise landed at Philadelphia International Airport, I went out one night on the town with my really good friend, Corey, and my sister, Jessica. That night I met a girl named Diana. My first impression was that I was really attracted to her. And after exchanging numbers that night we met, beginning the next day she showered me with attention. It was something that I really liked. Even besides that, I liked her for two big reasons: she lived in Philly and she spoke Spanish pretty well. Stepping back, I know that distance was the undoing of Cherise and me that led to me breaking up with her. And a part of me always wondered if my cultural background was so core to my sense of self that I needed to be with someone who was Latina or at least spoke Spanish.
Diana had entered the picture at a key moment. After several days of amazing attention from Diana, Cherise was flying into PHL, and she had asked me to meet her there, which I still very much wanted to do. For better or for worse, though, my mindset was not as open-minded as it would have been had I not met Diana. And this has implications for why I'm feeling so hurt that Cherise is refusing to spend New Year's Eve with me, and instead told me that she's not breaking plans that she made at least a month ago with a 25 year-old kid from New York (who she met, incidentally, years ago on a flight from Long Beach, California back to Philly to be with me).
For the first month that Cherise was here, I saw her two, maybe three, times. Each time I was very distant and aloof. My mind was on Diana. It's important to note, though, that Cherise asked me to consider moving out to Los Angeles to live and be with her; I rejected that idea out of hand. But the point is that she came to Lancaster to be near me and see if we could start a relationship again. The timing, unfortunately I would say, was off.
I did very little to reach out to Cherise from the time she got to Lancaster until Election Day, when I left on my three-week trip to southeast Asia: a whole month where I did little if anything to initiate communication, but instead focused on my blossoming relationship with Diana. I thought I was doing the right thing; I liked all the positive attention that I was getting and I was happy to reciprocate.
But, looking back, I think that knowing that I was leaving made me speed things up with Diana, where I really should've taken it much slower to be sure that I was beginning things with the right person. While I was in southeast Asia, I emailed Diana every single day of my trip. But certain thoughts and self-reflections, which I won't get into here, made me begin to realize, at the deepest levels within me, that I wasn't ready for or interested in a serious relationship with her. It took me returning to Philly, seeing Diana face-to-face again, and the first few days of downtime back here at home to really comprehend that I couldn't pursue a relationship with her. I felt terrible for that mistake, because I didn't want to hurt Diana, but I knew that I had to back out then, because I wasn't going to live a fraud.
I came back to Philly only a few days before Thanksgiving. I remember that I had mentioned to Cherise before she got here on the East Coast that she could spend Thanksgiving with my family; I remember that on Thanksgiving that I thought about her a lot, but I didn't invite her because I was too guilty since I was still in the difficult process of talking to Diana and expressing my change of heart to her. But deep down, I really wished that Cherise had been with me for Thanksgiving; that was probably a mistake on part to not be more communicative and invite her.
Only a week later I celebrated my birthday, on December 5th. Cherise was the very first person, among all my friends and family, to wish me a happy birthday. It made me feel happy to hear from her. Metaphorically, it was like she was knocking on the door again, and this time I was prepared and happy to begin slowly opening the door. We began talking and hanging out consistently from then until now. So of course long-buried feelings were uncovered, or at least I can say that for me they were (not to say that she didn't have feelings, but I'm trying to be careful not to make assumptions unless she explicitly said or did something).
So here's where I have to back-up. Early in her contract, Cherise tore her calf muscle. She didn't call me to tell me about it; and I was really calling her because I was busy with Diana. Since I didn't know what happened, I couldn't act on what I didn't know and show my caring and concern for her. But by that point she had already met some other guys, three that she told me of, that were showing her attention. Looking at this situation objectively, neither one of us was doing anything wrong; we were both single and we were seeing other people.
But I feel like Cherise is punishing me now for not being there for her at the beginning of her contract, even though we were both single and had no obligation to each other. And I think she loves me, but she'd prefer to be in a relationship that she has complete control over: she's 30 years old and surely has the control over the 25 year-old. And I think that stems from her fear of being hurt again by me: that I would let her down or break up with her again.
As it relates to my current predicament with Cherise, my timing with Diana was really unfortunate. But I say that it took that short relationship, and the opportunity to step back from the situation on my trip to southeast Asia, that made me begin to realize and even start to accept that I still love Cherise and that I'd like to spend the rest of my life with her. Can I be faulted for the events that led me to that conclusion? Should I be punished for coming to my senses? You tell me.
So here's how this created Cherise's rejection of me for New Year's Eve. Back at least a month ago, the 25 year-old kid asked Cherise to promise to spend New Year's Eve with him; she promised him that she would. She told me that she would not break her promise to him, especially since he made the effort to visit her when she was on crutches from the torn calf muscle and had visited her (at least one more time that I know of) while she was out in Lancaster.
This has totally broken my heart because the way I look at it, she's choosing him over me. But if I step back, she was single (and thus had no obligation to me) when she began spending time with him and made the promise to spend New Year's Eve with him. In an abstract sense, I really can't blame her honor for refusing to break a promise.
But here's the real problem: now I fear that I have no chance with her. I'm scared to take a risk to show her that I want to begin a committed, exclusive relationship with her, one that will eventually lead to marriage.
I did my best to overcome that fear by going out to Lancaster yesterday with a dozen long-stem red roses. And before she dropped me off at the Lancaster train station against my will, I showed her the gold necklace with the diamond charm that I wanted to give her as a Christmas gift. Although I showed her the necklace, I refused to give it to her, because I felt in the moment that she didn't deserve it; she was telling me to leave because she had plans later that night with someone else. As you can imagine, my imagination began to run amok. And I've been a mess ever since, sad and scared that I lost the chance to be with the woman that I love.
Cherise called me shortly after she had dropped me off to make sure that I was okay. Among other things she said in the short conversation, she told me to have faith. She didn't elaborate on what she meant by that. Then, this morning she sent me a text message saying "Good morning!" A couple hours later, I replied in a text message by saying "I miss you. I'm so sad, it hurts. I wish I was there to see you today." Only a few minutes later, she texted back: "Believe it or not. I miss you too!" And finally, I texted back a couple hours later: "I believe you. That's why we should see each other again while you're here." That was 5:18pm today, right around the time her final show was ending. I haven't heard back from her since.
I just tried calling her a few minutes ago, just before 2am here. She didn't answer and I didn't leave a message. I want her to see that I'm thinking about her, even if she's with someone else right now. In the past, my defensive mechanism is to shut down all lines of communication, refuse to reply to any communication initiated by her, and basically go AWOL. I'm trying to overcome that defensive mechanism because I know that our chances for a real relationship are running out. I know that I have to do my part to change past patterns if we are to start something new.
As much as I still really hurt, I'm somewhat resigned to the fact that Cherise will be with someone else for New Year's Eve. I really, truly hope, though, that she calls me tomorrow to say that she wants to be with me. But I'm not going to bank on it.
What I'm banking on is that she told me to have faith. Once she completes her promise to this guy, I need her to accept my offer to be faithful to her and I need her to promise to be faithful to me. She flies out on January 1st to San Diego for a three-month contract on a cruise ship there. I want to have an exclusive relationship with her beginning immediately when she goes out there. If she promises this to me, then I'll book a ticket right away to go to San Diego on the first flight that I can find. If she loves me, then she'll want a relationship with me, just as she expressed when she saw me again three months ago. As soon as we begin the exclusive relationship, I'll really focus on adding more money to my savings to buy a ring to propose to her before this time next year, if not much sooner.
My biggest fear here is that she'll say that she doesn't want to promise to be faithful or exclusive with me. I simply can't compete with other guys. I've been in the picture (in her life and in her heart, one way or another) for over five years, since September 20, 2003. She should know by now whether she wants to be married to me or not. I'm not going to compete with guys that just entered the picture a few months ago; I'm too tired for competition and I'm not so foolish to chase a woman who wants to play the field.
If she doesn't want to promise to be faithful or exclusive with me first thing after the new year, then I'll have to walk away.
Cherise, if you read this, and if you love me, then please let's just be together.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Facebook status update
i'm tryin to get up so don't you get me down. life, i love ya, now gimme a pound.
Bad episode
I had a really bad night tonight. One of the worst nights that I've had in a long time.
I went to a bar to try to drink it off. Really immature, I know. But I just wanted to drink myself into a stupor. It didn't exactly work, as you can see since I'm still awake and typing into the blog right now. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised since I could barely sleep at all last night.
Earlier today, I went out to Lancaster to try to lay it all on the line for my ex-girlfriend. I've realized that I still really love her, and I'd like to spend the rest of my life with her. But she drove me against my will to the train station at the end of her first show, telling me that another guy was coming in at around 2am tonight to visit her. My heart was totally ripped to shreds. And to add injury upon injury, she insists that she has plans to be with another guy, a 25 year-old kid, on New Year's Eve.
I brought her 12 long-stem red roses to her show today. I guess it doesn't matter, though, when someone doesn't love you. I give up. I'm not going to compete against other guys, especially kids.
I pray to God that there is someone out there for me. Someone who will not push me away. Someone who will express her emotions to me. By that I mean: someone who will not turn cold on me at any hint of conflict or difficulty. I want someone who is affectionate toward me. Someone who loves me for my passion; not someone who makes fun of me for it.
I tried to drink myself into oblivion tonight; it didn't work. It's nearly 3am right now. I know that Cherise is with a guy right now. That guy is in her bedrooom right this very second. I wish I was drunk. I wish I could cease existing for the next week or so.
I went to a bar to try to drink it off. Really immature, I know. But I just wanted to drink myself into a stupor. It didn't exactly work, as you can see since I'm still awake and typing into the blog right now. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised since I could barely sleep at all last night.
Earlier today, I went out to Lancaster to try to lay it all on the line for my ex-girlfriend. I've realized that I still really love her, and I'd like to spend the rest of my life with her. But she drove me against my will to the train station at the end of her first show, telling me that another guy was coming in at around 2am tonight to visit her. My heart was totally ripped to shreds. And to add injury upon injury, she insists that she has plans to be with another guy, a 25 year-old kid, on New Year's Eve.
I brought her 12 long-stem red roses to her show today. I guess it doesn't matter, though, when someone doesn't love you. I give up. I'm not going to compete against other guys, especially kids.
I pray to God that there is someone out there for me. Someone who will not push me away. Someone who will express her emotions to me. By that I mean: someone who will not turn cold on me at any hint of conflict or difficulty. I want someone who is affectionate toward me. Someone who loves me for my passion; not someone who makes fun of me for it.
I tried to drink myself into oblivion tonight; it didn't work. It's nearly 3am right now. I know that Cherise is with a guy right now. That guy is in her bedrooom right this very second. I wish I was drunk. I wish I could cease existing for the next week or so.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Tea with honey
I'm drinking a cup of Salada tea with 100% desert Mesquite honey. The reason: I've been sick for the past couple of days. Though I think it's breaking now: yesterday was a lot of sneezing and a lot of clear, runny mucus; today was thicker mucus in the morning and now more of just a dry cough with a little congestion.
Why am I sick? Superficially, the yo-yo temperature changes on a day-to-day basis is not helpful. Also, on a few occasions over the past week (especially last Friday night on Washington Street in Hoboken and last Saturday night in Philly's Gayborhood), I was definitely under-dressed: wearing a blazer when I should've been wearing a winter coat.
In most cases, though, I could probably get away with all of that, being the healthy guy that I am. So the deeper reason for getting sick, I think, has to do with my primary frustration these days: being unemployed. I figured that I would've had a job by this amount of time after my SE Asia trip. But due to the bleak job market, and some unfortunate timing, I'm out of a job right before the holidays. The stress from this situation finally wore me down this past week. I had a lead that I thought would materialize this past Monday (in a meeting with JuriStaff), but it was an opportunity that faded quickly. To hit the nail on the head, I can say that the disappointment - and even anger and depression - that resulted from that let-down was the true cause of my cold.
Not unrelated, though, is another byproduct of my unemployment. Being without a job means spending an inordinate amount of time at home (i.e., all day everyday). Because I've never been so good at dusting around the apartment, I think my respiratory system is paying more of a price than usual, thus making me more susceptible to falling ill. So I dusted some (certainly not all) of the apartment earlier tonight. I hope to motivate myself to do some more dusting tomorrow.
So that's that. I'd appreciate any prayers or well wishes that you could send my way. But I feel better tonight than I did last night. Hopefully tomorrow will be the last day of feeling sick so that I can start fresh on Monday. Yesterday I just paid to re-join my gym, so I'd like to get in there on Monday for the first time since very early November. And I hope to start the new week with an eager and optimistic approach to getting a gig as soon as possible. And to have a generally happy state-of-being for the holidays.
For tonight I'll enjoy my tea with honey, which I just happened to finish right now!
Why am I sick? Superficially, the yo-yo temperature changes on a day-to-day basis is not helpful. Also, on a few occasions over the past week (especially last Friday night on Washington Street in Hoboken and last Saturday night in Philly's Gayborhood), I was definitely under-dressed: wearing a blazer when I should've been wearing a winter coat.
In most cases, though, I could probably get away with all of that, being the healthy guy that I am. So the deeper reason for getting sick, I think, has to do with my primary frustration these days: being unemployed. I figured that I would've had a job by this amount of time after my SE Asia trip. But due to the bleak job market, and some unfortunate timing, I'm out of a job right before the holidays. The stress from this situation finally wore me down this past week. I had a lead that I thought would materialize this past Monday (in a meeting with JuriStaff), but it was an opportunity that faded quickly. To hit the nail on the head, I can say that the disappointment - and even anger and depression - that resulted from that let-down was the true cause of my cold.
Not unrelated, though, is another byproduct of my unemployment. Being without a job means spending an inordinate amount of time at home (i.e., all day everyday). Because I've never been so good at dusting around the apartment, I think my respiratory system is paying more of a price than usual, thus making me more susceptible to falling ill. So I dusted some (certainly not all) of the apartment earlier tonight. I hope to motivate myself to do some more dusting tomorrow.
So that's that. I'd appreciate any prayers or well wishes that you could send my way. But I feel better tonight than I did last night. Hopefully tomorrow will be the last day of feeling sick so that I can start fresh on Monday. Yesterday I just paid to re-join my gym, so I'd like to get in there on Monday for the first time since very early November. And I hope to start the new week with an eager and optimistic approach to getting a gig as soon as possible. And to have a generally happy state-of-being for the holidays.
For tonight I'll enjoy my tea with honey, which I just happened to finish right now!
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Bottom of the bag
Popcorn.
I've been eating it with my lunch for the past week.
Today I got to the bottom of the bag.
So I poured out almost all the remaining contents of the bag on to my plate.
A lot of small pieces of popcorn.
Very few intact, full pieces of popcorn.
In order to effectively eat it all, I simply pressed my tongue to the small pieces of popcorn on the plate so that they stuck to my tongue and I could eat them.
I've been eating it with my lunch for the past week.
Today I got to the bottom of the bag.
So I poured out almost all the remaining contents of the bag on to my plate.
A lot of small pieces of popcorn.
Very few intact, full pieces of popcorn.
In order to effectively eat it all, I simply pressed my tongue to the small pieces of popcorn on the plate so that they stuck to my tongue and I could eat them.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Bring back the home-cooked meal
"Those most vulnerable to obesity are those who frequently eat out," said Gary Foster, head of the Obesity Research Center at Temple University.
I heard that statement while listening to a WHYY news report this morning on 90.1 FM. You can hear the entire news clip by clicking HERE and scrolling down to the headline "Restaurant menus must have labels" with the December 18, 2008 dateline.
I've always been a strong proponent of cooking meals at home. By cooking at home, I know exactly what is going into my body, because I'm the one that buys the meal's ingredients and then prepares the meal. Growing up in a household where my mother (or sometimes my father) prepared a home-cooked meal every single night, I valued the importance of a well-rounded meal. I remember that every dinner included one meat (or, every once in a while, seafood), one grain (usually rice or pasta), and at least one vegetable. We rarely drank soda. And we rarely ordered out; we might get pizza or Chinese food about once, maybe twice, a month.
Conversely, I'm generally opposed to eating out. Even on nights when I'm tired from working all day or have little to choose from other than macaroni and cheese, I'll still usually choose to cook my own dinner, rather than eating out or ordering in. Ideally, I would eat out at a healthy, reasonably-priced restaurant once per week or every 10 days.
We live in a culture in which too many people have lost sight of the benefits of preparing their own meals and eating in the comfort of their own home. Our culture has placed too much emphasis on outsourcing everything to others so as to do as little as possible for ourselves, as well as on the perceived social prestige of eating out. I'd rather eat healthy and save money for doing it, than worry about showing off for others while paying more money for my laziness.
I heard that statement while listening to a WHYY news report this morning on 90.1 FM. You can hear the entire news clip by clicking HERE and scrolling down to the headline "Restaurant menus must have labels" with the December 18, 2008 dateline.
I've always been a strong proponent of cooking meals at home. By cooking at home, I know exactly what is going into my body, because I'm the one that buys the meal's ingredients and then prepares the meal. Growing up in a household where my mother (or sometimes my father) prepared a home-cooked meal every single night, I valued the importance of a well-rounded meal. I remember that every dinner included one meat (or, every once in a while, seafood), one grain (usually rice or pasta), and at least one vegetable. We rarely drank soda. And we rarely ordered out; we might get pizza or Chinese food about once, maybe twice, a month.
Conversely, I'm generally opposed to eating out. Even on nights when I'm tired from working all day or have little to choose from other than macaroni and cheese, I'll still usually choose to cook my own dinner, rather than eating out or ordering in. Ideally, I would eat out at a healthy, reasonably-priced restaurant once per week or every 10 days.
We live in a culture in which too many people have lost sight of the benefits of preparing their own meals and eating in the comfort of their own home. Our culture has placed too much emphasis on outsourcing everything to others so as to do as little as possible for ourselves, as well as on the perceived social prestige of eating out. I'd rather eat healthy and save money for doing it, than worry about showing off for others while paying more money for my laziness.
Unrealistic reaction
Here in the United States, there has been a television advertisement on the major national networks for Toyota. It features their promotion for the "Toyotathon of Toyotathons."
Throughout the commercial, a guy in a tan jacket is going around town placing a sticker that reads "of Toyotathons" on all the already-existing signs and billboards that read "Toyotathon." The point, presumably, is to advertise that this sale is going to be the mother of all sales for Toyota products.
Well, at the very end of the commercial, there is a shot of a woman reading a newspaper, and she's holding it up in front of her face. On the back page of the newspaper is a print ad with the bold and easily-legible title: "Toyotathon". The guy in the tan jacket briskly places one of his stickers directly on to her newspaper, then quickly disappears out of the camera shot, ostensibly to walk away quickly to continue his task of placing stickers elsewhere. And the woman reacts by turning the back page toward her and then tilting her head to see what was placed on her newspaper. And nothing else!
My point is this: what kind of reaction is this??? Does this not seem unnatural to you? If someone abruptly touched something that I was holding in my hands and then walked away quickly, I'd look first to see who this stranger was, then I'd quickly look at what was done to the newspaper in my hands, and then I'd look again to get a good look at the suspect.
This woman's reaction was so nonchalant to the point of being completely incredible. And this, in turn, takes away from the veracity of the commercial and, thus, the consumer's trust in this company and its products. It should have come as no surprise, then, that while listening to NPR Morning Report this morning, it was reported that Toyota is forecasting negative growth (an oxymoron) in 2009, the first time this will happen in the company's 70 year history.
And it all started with a stupid commercial.
Throughout the commercial, a guy in a tan jacket is going around town placing a sticker that reads "of Toyotathons" on all the already-existing signs and billboards that read "Toyotathon." The point, presumably, is to advertise that this sale is going to be the mother of all sales for Toyota products.
Well, at the very end of the commercial, there is a shot of a woman reading a newspaper, and she's holding it up in front of her face. On the back page of the newspaper is a print ad with the bold and easily-legible title: "Toyotathon". The guy in the tan jacket briskly places one of his stickers directly on to her newspaper, then quickly disappears out of the camera shot, ostensibly to walk away quickly to continue his task of placing stickers elsewhere. And the woman reacts by turning the back page toward her and then tilting her head to see what was placed on her newspaper. And nothing else!
My point is this: what kind of reaction is this??? Does this not seem unnatural to you? If someone abruptly touched something that I was holding in my hands and then walked away quickly, I'd look first to see who this stranger was, then I'd quickly look at what was done to the newspaper in my hands, and then I'd look again to get a good look at the suspect.
This woman's reaction was so nonchalant to the point of being completely incredible. And this, in turn, takes away from the veracity of the commercial and, thus, the consumer's trust in this company and its products. It should have come as no surprise, then, that while listening to NPR Morning Report this morning, it was reported that Toyota is forecasting negative growth (an oxymoron) in 2009, the first time this will happen in the company's 70 year history.
And it all started with a stupid commercial.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
A small, but not insignificant, accomplishment
Earlier today, for the first time in nearly three months, I finished reading a book. The book was "American Slavery, American Freedom: The Ordeal of Colonial Virginia" by Edmund S. Morgan.
When I chose to read this book, I knew it would take me a while to get through it. History books, even those that are well-written and engaging, tend to be more dense than other sorts of books. Even still, three months to finish a book is atypical of me, and that's not failing to account for the fact that I'm a slow reader.
The author aimed to understand the paradox between slavery and freedom that existed at the time of our nation's founding and that continues in some ways to effect relations among us today. As the author states in the preface, there was an "apparent contradiction between [the colonists'] proclamations of equality and liberty and their continuing possession of slaves," a deep contradiction that "required a civil war because slavery and freedom are irreconcilable opposites."
Reading the book took a long while for reasons both internal and external to the book itself. Internally, the author began his inquiry at a point in history that pre-dated even the European settlement of present-day Virginia, and from there slowly and methodically worked his way through socio-historical developments that eventually led to the American Revolution. This meant that that issue of the enslavement of Americans from Africa was not dealt with directly until the penultimate chapter of the book. I felt a bit misled and this sometimes affected my motivation for reading the book.
Externally, I had the nearly three-week trip to southeast Asia that put any reading effectively on hold. And for the month before the trip, almost all my free time was consumed with dating a girl with whom I'd had high hopes of starting a serious relationship. It was only once I came back from the trip, and soon realized that the prospects of landing another legal project were bleak, that I settled into the idea that I wanted to finish this book once and for all.
So there you have it. I finished my book. And with that, I've made a small, but not insignificant, accomplishment. Psychologically, I feel that I've made progress on something, and I'll certainly take that for what it's worth; it's something to build on. As you can see to the left of this text, I was finally able to add another title to my list of recently-read books.
Now I think I'll take on something a little bit easier to read, perhaps a fiction novel.
When I chose to read this book, I knew it would take me a while to get through it. History books, even those that are well-written and engaging, tend to be more dense than other sorts of books. Even still, three months to finish a book is atypical of me, and that's not failing to account for the fact that I'm a slow reader.
The author aimed to understand the paradox between slavery and freedom that existed at the time of our nation's founding and that continues in some ways to effect relations among us today. As the author states in the preface, there was an "apparent contradiction between [the colonists'] proclamations of equality and liberty and their continuing possession of slaves," a deep contradiction that "required a civil war because slavery and freedom are irreconcilable opposites."
Reading the book took a long while for reasons both internal and external to the book itself. Internally, the author began his inquiry at a point in history that pre-dated even the European settlement of present-day Virginia, and from there slowly and methodically worked his way through socio-historical developments that eventually led to the American Revolution. This meant that that issue of the enslavement of Americans from Africa was not dealt with directly until the penultimate chapter of the book. I felt a bit misled and this sometimes affected my motivation for reading the book.
Externally, I had the nearly three-week trip to southeast Asia that put any reading effectively on hold. And for the month before the trip, almost all my free time was consumed with dating a girl with whom I'd had high hopes of starting a serious relationship. It was only once I came back from the trip, and soon realized that the prospects of landing another legal project were bleak, that I settled into the idea that I wanted to finish this book once and for all.
So there you have it. I finished my book. And with that, I've made a small, but not insignificant, accomplishment. Psychologically, I feel that I've made progress on something, and I'll certainly take that for what it's worth; it's something to build on. As you can see to the left of this text, I was finally able to add another title to my list of recently-read books.
Now I think I'll take on something a little bit easier to read, perhaps a fiction novel.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Extra, extra . . .
. . . read all about it!!!
I've gotta get back to what makes me happy. Or at least one of the things that makes me happy: writing. Being still unemployed, I've had a lot of free time to think lots about a lot of things.
I've been very aware of the open question after my return from southeast Asia: what do I write about now? The same thing happened after I got back from Egypt. Life seems so mundane that it doesn't even warrant writing anything. But that's the superficial assessment. Which simply means that I'm gonna have to dig deeper. Into my brain, into my thoughts, into my heart, into wherever it is that blog entries come from. From post-partum depression to pre-party progression, the time is almost here.
Look for new posts very soon!
I've gotta get back to what makes me happy. Or at least one of the things that makes me happy: writing. Being still unemployed, I've had a lot of free time to think lots about a lot of things.
I've been very aware of the open question after my return from southeast Asia: what do I write about now? The same thing happened after I got back from Egypt. Life seems so mundane that it doesn't even warrant writing anything. But that's the superficial assessment. Which simply means that I'm gonna have to dig deeper. Into my brain, into my thoughts, into my heart, into wherever it is that blog entries come from. From post-partum depression to pre-party progression, the time is almost here.
Look for new posts very soon!
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Anne-Sarah
I know it's a little crazy,
but if your memory's kinda hazy,
I'm T___, the guy from Philly.
And although it was a bit silly,
I sent an email to a female
and a couple of guys at your school
to see if I could try to get through
to who I thought was possibly you.
After our long talk on the bus,
I was in such a fuss
that we couldn't keep in touch,
since I lacked at the task
to ask for your information de contact.
So I had to take a chance
to reconnect with the girl from France.
If you ever see yourself
coming to the Illadelph,
then just reply
and say "hi T__, ah, oui c'est vrai!"
but if your memory's kinda hazy,
I'm T___, the guy from Philly.
And although it was a bit silly,
I sent an email to a female
and a couple of guys at your school
to see if I could try to get through
to who I thought was possibly you.
After our long talk on the bus,
I was in such a fuss
that we couldn't keep in touch,
since I lacked at the task
to ask for your information de contact.
So I had to take a chance
to reconnect with the girl from France.
If you ever see yourself
coming to the Illadelph,
then just reply
and say "hi T__, ah, oui c'est vrai!"
Friday, December 5, 2008
Facebook status update
"Come one, come all." If you're in Philly this evening, then join me for a drink at Alma de Cuba at 7pm.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Reflections on TLC
Vapex. For some reason, in Bangkok especially, many men and even some women periodically put a small white plastic tube (similar to Chapstick) into their nose, sniff, and then repeat with the other nostril. Several men that I observed did this obsessively, to the point that I thought it was some kind of narcotic or chemical stimulant. We found out from an 18 year-old American girl who has been living with her mother in Bangkok for over a year now that this practice is meant to open the air passage from the effect of the city smog. She said that a lot of cab drivers use the strong menthol smell kinda like people back here at home use coffee: as a quick jolt to stay awake. In fact, the cabbie that drove us to the Hualamphong train station -- when we made it at the very last minute -- was using the Vapex like a fiend. Here's a pic from a guy on the Chao Phraya Express Boat gettin' his fix:
Volleyball. It seemed that everywhere we went in Cambodia (which was admittedly limited to just the town of Siem Reap and then the road from there to the border town of Poipet), we saw games of volleyball being played. When we first arrived in Siem Reap, we took a walk around town. After crossing a bridge to the other side of the river, we saw a spirited game of volleyball being played. And then on the day we took a taxi to the border (to eventually return to Bangkok), I saw at least two games of volleyball being played out in the Cambodian countryside. It made me wonder how the Cambodian Olympic volleyball team fared in Beijing.
Asian tourists. In my previous trips to Central America, Europe, and Egypt, the great majority of fellow travelers (not that kind, silly) were Europeans. On this trip, it was quite different. Most of the tourists generally -- as opposed to the subgroup of backpackers -- were Asian: from my estimation, they were mostly Korean and Japanese. Of course among the backpacker crowd, the travelers were almost entirely "white," but even here a slim majority may have been Australian as opposed to European. One look at the map or a globe explains this phenomenon. Nevertheless, it was a new experience for me. As a final sidenote, I can count on one hand the number of Americans (i.e., from the USA) that we met on the entire trip. I guess the typical American tourists were all in Cancun or other Americanized neo-colonies: too scared, narrow-minded, or culturally conservative to step outside of their own culture.
Bangkok sidewalks. The transformation of the sidewalks of Bangkok over the course of a night is quite striking. In the normal hours of the night, up to midnight or 1am let's say, the sidewalks are characterized by streetside vendors selling souvenirs, t-shirts, and handicrafts. Besides that, there are handfuls of prostitutes on each block, just standing around waiting to be picked up by middle-aged white guys with lots of American dollars in their wallets. After 1am or 2am, though, as we realized when we took a cab at 4am to get to the airport, the sidewalks turn into a nocturnal, and much rougher-around-the-edges, version of Paris: by that I mean that there are lots of people still out drinking beers and smoking at tables all along the sidewalks. Believe me, this was more than just a couple of tables on one block; this was many tables block after block after block. By virtue of staying active throughout the nighttime hours, Bangkok must be classified as a world city.
Same Same But Different. That was a common phrase that we heard throughout all three countries of our trip. It was used in every situation imaginable. For example, you would ask if a certain dish tasted similar to pad thai, and the waiter would respond, "same same but different." It was funny, but vexing. But the phrase was so common that everywhere we went we saw t-shirts announcing it: "Same Same" on the front, "But Different" on the back. If you look closely, the girl on the right in this photo is wearing the t-shirt:
Prostitution. I guess it should come as no surprise that prostitution was prevalent where there were older, relatively wealthy tourists -- thus, in Bangkok and in Siem Reap, Cambodia. Although I have to admit that some of the prostitutes were quite pleasing to the eye, it didn't take long for me to feel disgusted by the whole scene: rich white guys basically "buying" companionship and sex from young women. But hey, that's capitalism, right? Money talks. I felt pity for most of these guys, who back home probably have no chance to get a beautiful woman. So can I blame them? Yes and no. And I pity the women too, because I wonder how many of them are pursuing any worthwhile goals, like education or an eventual career, while they sell their bodies; probably not too many, unfortunately. The whole situation is just shitty. I also thought of another byproduct: how many beautiful girls in Bangkok -- who are legitimately not prostitutes -- are eyeballed and objectified by old white guys who jump to the conclusion that they must be a whore because they're young and beautiful? Terrible, really terrible.
Ladyboys. Well, as long as we're talking about the openness of sex in parts of southeast Asia, we may as well talk about the openness of sexuality too. This is one thing that I felt was refreshing. For those not in the know, "ladyboys" are basically southeast Asian transvestites: men dressing like and adopting the mannerisms of women. Don't get me wrong, coming from a comparatively sexually-conservative culture like that of the United States, it was a bit weird to see the ladyboys. Here in Philly, it's easy enough to walk down to the Gayborhood and you can see all the transvestites that you'd like. But that's the big difference: here in the U.S. the places that sexual expressiveness is culturally acceptable are quite limited and the boundaries are clear; they're kinda like modern-day ghettoes (in the Jewish sense of the word). In southeast Asia, though, you could see a ladyboy anywhere. For example, the receptionist at our hotel on our first morning in Bangkok was quite androgenous; we really couldn't figure out that person's gender at all. And this openness of sexual expressiveness, without boundaries, was noticeable throughout much of our trip. Being the fan of freedom that I am, I found this facet of southeast Asian culture to be very refreshing and quite advanced of our culture in the United States.
French legacy. Continuing with my smooth segues, I'll dovetail off that last comment about culture in the United States with an observation of the cultural legacy of southeast Asia. In Laos and Cambodia particularly -- formerly colonized by the French -- you can see the lasting influence of French culture. Baguettes and crepes are common. Restaurants have French names. And not only that, but outdoor seating at bistro tables is widespread. And for the first time in my travels, I met a traveler who was French; her name was Anne-Sarah and she was studying law at a university in Can Tho, Vietnam. She was traveling with a group of fellow French students to Vang Vieng and Vientiane. Although the international lingua franca is now most definitely English, it seems that the French enjoy visiting areas that remind them, even a little bit, of home.
Backpacker circuit. Paul and I followed an itinerary that can be described as a big oval: from Bangkok, north to Chiang Mai, east to Luang Prabang, then south to Vang Vieng, Vientiane, Savannakhet, and Pakse, then southwest to Siem Reap, then west back to Bangkok. On the map it makes the most sense to follow this route, especially if doing most of it overland: by bus or train. And apparently we were not the only ones with this approach. When we were in Siem Reap, a girl came up to me at Temple Bar and told me that she remembered seeing me back in Chiang Mai. And from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng, we hung out with our Aussie friends, Nick and Josh, and our English friends, John and his girlfriend Jenny. And lastly, the French girl, Anne-Sarah, and her friends were on our minibus from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng, and I spent the entire 4-5 hour bus ride from Vang Vieng to Vientiane sitting next to and chatting with Anne-Sarah. The point is that, in southeast Asia, there is definitely a well-worn path which backpackers follow, what I called the "backpacker circuit."
Philly at Angkor Wat. Walking through one of the many temples at Angkor, I saw a Cambodian artist sitting on a rock, painting a picture; he was wearing a Philadelphia Eagles hat. I pointed it out to him and said "I'm from Philadelphia." His response was simply "godson", in the speech of a deaf man. I said, "ahh, your godson lives in Philadelphia," and he nodded his head. Later, as we were about to walk up the long and steep climb to the top of the tallest hill in the area -- where we were gonna watch the sunset -- I saw a guy in his early-20s wearing a red baseball cap. I was almost sure what it was, but I walked closer. Yup, it was a Phillies cap! So I approached him and said, "Phillies!" We talked for a few minutes. He asked me what it was like on the streets of Philadelphia when the Phillies won the World Series, he said he missed it because he was already in southeast Asia, I told him that it was mass joyful chaos, and I described the scene from Market Street and along Broad Street from that night. The guy said he lived in Northeast Philly. It was cool to see -- not once, but twice in one day -- Philadelphia being represented halfway around the world. Three cheers for the Two-Fifteen!
The Roots. Finally, speaking of Philly represent, I was at Temple Bar in Siem Reap when, over the loudspeakers, they played a song by The Roots. How appropriate: I graduated from Temple Law in North Philly and they were playing a song by Philly's very own hip-hop leaders, The Roots. Everything seemed just right at that moment, as I sipped on my Angkor beer, listening to "The Seed (2.0)", a great song that you can enjoy right now by clicking HERE (I couldn't find any videos that I could embed directly onto this website).
Volleyball. It seemed that everywhere we went in Cambodia (which was admittedly limited to just the town of Siem Reap and then the road from there to the border town of Poipet), we saw games of volleyball being played. When we first arrived in Siem Reap, we took a walk around town. After crossing a bridge to the other side of the river, we saw a spirited game of volleyball being played. And then on the day we took a taxi to the border (to eventually return to Bangkok), I saw at least two games of volleyball being played out in the Cambodian countryside. It made me wonder how the Cambodian Olympic volleyball team fared in Beijing.
Asian tourists. In my previous trips to Central America, Europe, and Egypt, the great majority of fellow travelers (not that kind, silly) were Europeans. On this trip, it was quite different. Most of the tourists generally -- as opposed to the subgroup of backpackers -- were Asian: from my estimation, they were mostly Korean and Japanese. Of course among the backpacker crowd, the travelers were almost entirely "white," but even here a slim majority may have been Australian as opposed to European. One look at the map or a globe explains this phenomenon. Nevertheless, it was a new experience for me. As a final sidenote, I can count on one hand the number of Americans (i.e., from the USA) that we met on the entire trip. I guess the typical American tourists were all in Cancun or other Americanized neo-colonies: too scared, narrow-minded, or culturally conservative to step outside of their own culture.
Bangkok sidewalks. The transformation of the sidewalks of Bangkok over the course of a night is quite striking. In the normal hours of the night, up to midnight or 1am let's say, the sidewalks are characterized by streetside vendors selling souvenirs, t-shirts, and handicrafts. Besides that, there are handfuls of prostitutes on each block, just standing around waiting to be picked up by middle-aged white guys with lots of American dollars in their wallets. After 1am or 2am, though, as we realized when we took a cab at 4am to get to the airport, the sidewalks turn into a nocturnal, and much rougher-around-the-edges, version of Paris: by that I mean that there are lots of people still out drinking beers and smoking at tables all along the sidewalks. Believe me, this was more than just a couple of tables on one block; this was many tables block after block after block. By virtue of staying active throughout the nighttime hours, Bangkok must be classified as a world city.
Same Same But Different. That was a common phrase that we heard throughout all three countries of our trip. It was used in every situation imaginable. For example, you would ask if a certain dish tasted similar to pad thai, and the waiter would respond, "same same but different." It was funny, but vexing. But the phrase was so common that everywhere we went we saw t-shirts announcing it: "Same Same" on the front, "But Different" on the back. If you look closely, the girl on the right in this photo is wearing the t-shirt:
Prostitution. I guess it should come as no surprise that prostitution was prevalent where there were older, relatively wealthy tourists -- thus, in Bangkok and in Siem Reap, Cambodia. Although I have to admit that some of the prostitutes were quite pleasing to the eye, it didn't take long for me to feel disgusted by the whole scene: rich white guys basically "buying" companionship and sex from young women. But hey, that's capitalism, right? Money talks. I felt pity for most of these guys, who back home probably have no chance to get a beautiful woman. So can I blame them? Yes and no. And I pity the women too, because I wonder how many of them are pursuing any worthwhile goals, like education or an eventual career, while they sell their bodies; probably not too many, unfortunately. The whole situation is just shitty. I also thought of another byproduct: how many beautiful girls in Bangkok -- who are legitimately not prostitutes -- are eyeballed and objectified by old white guys who jump to the conclusion that they must be a whore because they're young and beautiful? Terrible, really terrible.
Ladyboys. Well, as long as we're talking about the openness of sex in parts of southeast Asia, we may as well talk about the openness of sexuality too. This is one thing that I felt was refreshing. For those not in the know, "ladyboys" are basically southeast Asian transvestites: men dressing like and adopting the mannerisms of women. Don't get me wrong, coming from a comparatively sexually-conservative culture like that of the United States, it was a bit weird to see the ladyboys. Here in Philly, it's easy enough to walk down to the Gayborhood and you can see all the transvestites that you'd like. But that's the big difference: here in the U.S. the places that sexual expressiveness is culturally acceptable are quite limited and the boundaries are clear; they're kinda like modern-day ghettoes (in the Jewish sense of the word). In southeast Asia, though, you could see a ladyboy anywhere. For example, the receptionist at our hotel on our first morning in Bangkok was quite androgenous; we really couldn't figure out that person's gender at all. And this openness of sexual expressiveness, without boundaries, was noticeable throughout much of our trip. Being the fan of freedom that I am, I found this facet of southeast Asian culture to be very refreshing and quite advanced of our culture in the United States.
French legacy. Continuing with my smooth segues, I'll dovetail off that last comment about culture in the United States with an observation of the cultural legacy of southeast Asia. In Laos and Cambodia particularly -- formerly colonized by the French -- you can see the lasting influence of French culture. Baguettes and crepes are common. Restaurants have French names. And not only that, but outdoor seating at bistro tables is widespread. And for the first time in my travels, I met a traveler who was French; her name was Anne-Sarah and she was studying law at a university in Can Tho, Vietnam. She was traveling with a group of fellow French students to Vang Vieng and Vientiane. Although the international lingua franca is now most definitely English, it seems that the French enjoy visiting areas that remind them, even a little bit, of home.
Backpacker circuit. Paul and I followed an itinerary that can be described as a big oval: from Bangkok, north to Chiang Mai, east to Luang Prabang, then south to Vang Vieng, Vientiane, Savannakhet, and Pakse, then southwest to Siem Reap, then west back to Bangkok. On the map it makes the most sense to follow this route, especially if doing most of it overland: by bus or train. And apparently we were not the only ones with this approach. When we were in Siem Reap, a girl came up to me at Temple Bar and told me that she remembered seeing me back in Chiang Mai. And from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng, we hung out with our Aussie friends, Nick and Josh, and our English friends, John and his girlfriend Jenny. And lastly, the French girl, Anne-Sarah, and her friends were on our minibus from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng, and I spent the entire 4-5 hour bus ride from Vang Vieng to Vientiane sitting next to and chatting with Anne-Sarah. The point is that, in southeast Asia, there is definitely a well-worn path which backpackers follow, what I called the "backpacker circuit."
Philly at Angkor Wat. Walking through one of the many temples at Angkor, I saw a Cambodian artist sitting on a rock, painting a picture; he was wearing a Philadelphia Eagles hat. I pointed it out to him and said "I'm from Philadelphia." His response was simply "godson", in the speech of a deaf man. I said, "ahh, your godson lives in Philadelphia," and he nodded his head. Later, as we were about to walk up the long and steep climb to the top of the tallest hill in the area -- where we were gonna watch the sunset -- I saw a guy in his early-20s wearing a red baseball cap. I was almost sure what it was, but I walked closer. Yup, it was a Phillies cap! So I approached him and said, "Phillies!" We talked for a few minutes. He asked me what it was like on the streets of Philadelphia when the Phillies won the World Series, he said he missed it because he was already in southeast Asia, I told him that it was mass joyful chaos, and I described the scene from Market Street and along Broad Street from that night. The guy said he lived in Northeast Philly. It was cool to see -- not once, but twice in one day -- Philadelphia being represented halfway around the world. Three cheers for the Two-Fifteen!
The Roots. Finally, speaking of Philly represent, I was at Temple Bar in Siem Reap when, over the loudspeakers, they played a song by The Roots. How appropriate: I graduated from Temple Law in North Philly and they were playing a song by Philly's very own hip-hop leaders, The Roots. Everything seemed just right at that moment, as I sipped on my Angkor beer, listening to "The Seed (2.0)", a great song that you can enjoy right now by clicking HERE (I couldn't find any videos that I could embed directly onto this website).
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Back to Basics
Today was a great day. While it rained all day outside, I spent the whole day watching football from my couch. After a long weekend, beginning with my bus ride from Philly to Easton on Thanksgiving, to my bus ride on Friday from Easton to New York, to my train ride from New York back to Philly yesterday, I was totally pooped. I've had more than my share of public transportation and traveling in general, and I was really looking forward to passing a day at home, by myself, and without any distractions. The weather played right into this plan. And I really, really enjoyed my relaxing day.
But I'm back to business tomorrow, as I've gotta prepare for a hearing this coming Wednesday morning. It'll be good to get to work.
But I'm back to business tomorrow, as I've gotta prepare for a hearing this coming Wednesday morning. It'll be good to get to work.
Friday, November 28, 2008
One Night in Bangkok
Classic 80s song that I wanted to post onto my blog from Bangkok. Please enjoy responsibly:
Lyrics can be found HERE.
Lyrics can be found HERE.
More buses
It seems that my traveling on buses doesn't end just because my trip to southeast Asia is over. Yesterday I took a bus from Philadelphia to Easton, where my sister lives, so that I could celebrate Thanksgiving with her and our dad. And once again, the traveling gods were on my side:
In typical fashion I arrived at the Greyhound bus terminal just 5 minutes before the bus was scheduled to depart; it was irrelevant to me that it was a holiday, so there would probably be lots of people there (and there were). The line was too long to wait to buy a ticket. So without even having a ticket, I went directly to the line to board the bus; I figured I would ask to buy a ticket at the first stop at Broad & Olney in North Philly.
Well, 10:40am, the scheduled departure time, came and went. There were about 6 people in front of me in line. And we were being told that the bus was full; there were no more seats. But somehow still, I didn't panic or worry in the least. I would just wait out the situation.
At about 10:45am, a woman Greyhound worker came up to those of us still waiting in line, and explained that they were going to switch buses: the bus already full only had a capacity of 47, while another empty bus right next to it had a capacity of 55. Doing the quick math, I knew that I could get a seat.
So I took advantage of the time that it was going to take to unload the first bus and then board the second bus, and I ran back into the terminal to wait in line to buy a ticket. I waited for nearly 10 minutes before I finally got up to the ticket counter. I told the woman, "one ticket one-way for the 10:40am bus to Easton." She said that bus already left; I told her, no its still outside. Then, she asked me if the bus driver told me to come inside to buy a ticket; without a moment's hesitation, I said yeah.
And just like that I bought my ticket at 10:55am for a 10:40am bus that was overbooked when I got there. And thus I was able to make it on time for Thanksgiving with my dad and my sister.
When I handed my ticket to the woman checking tickets at the door to the bus, she said, "oh there you are! I knew we had one more." HA!!!
ps. I'm writing from my sister's apartment in Easton right now. I leave in a little bit to catch yet another bus: this one from here to New York City to spend some time with my friend Corey. More buses!
In typical fashion I arrived at the Greyhound bus terminal just 5 minutes before the bus was scheduled to depart; it was irrelevant to me that it was a holiday, so there would probably be lots of people there (and there were). The line was too long to wait to buy a ticket. So without even having a ticket, I went directly to the line to board the bus; I figured I would ask to buy a ticket at the first stop at Broad & Olney in North Philly.
Well, 10:40am, the scheduled departure time, came and went. There were about 6 people in front of me in line. And we were being told that the bus was full; there were no more seats. But somehow still, I didn't panic or worry in the least. I would just wait out the situation.
At about 10:45am, a woman Greyhound worker came up to those of us still waiting in line, and explained that they were going to switch buses: the bus already full only had a capacity of 47, while another empty bus right next to it had a capacity of 55. Doing the quick math, I knew that I could get a seat.
So I took advantage of the time that it was going to take to unload the first bus and then board the second bus, and I ran back into the terminal to wait in line to buy a ticket. I waited for nearly 10 minutes before I finally got up to the ticket counter. I told the woman, "one ticket one-way for the 10:40am bus to Easton." She said that bus already left; I told her, no its still outside. Then, she asked me if the bus driver told me to come inside to buy a ticket; without a moment's hesitation, I said yeah.
And just like that I bought my ticket at 10:55am for a 10:40am bus that was overbooked when I got there. And thus I was able to make it on time for Thanksgiving with my dad and my sister.
When I handed my ticket to the woman checking tickets at the door to the bus, she said, "oh there you are! I knew we had one more." HA!!!
ps. I'm writing from my sister's apartment in Easton right now. I leave in a little bit to catch yet another bus: this one from here to New York City to spend some time with my friend Corey. More buses!
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving!
Thanks for checking in! I don't have much time to write since I have to run to catch a 10:40am bus to Easton, where I'll celebrate the holiday with my sister and dad. But I couldn't leave without first posting a big THANK YOU to everyone who has contacted me since I've been back and to all who've kept up with my adventures on this website. It's great to be back, and over the course of the weekend, I'll do my best to hit everyone up.
Also, because today is Thanksgiving, I want to offer the following two quotes:
Alright, I would write more, but I've really gotta get running. I hope you have a wonderful day with a generous helping of good food and whatever else you enjoy about this holiday (see the poll to the upper-left for reference). HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!
Also, because today is Thanksgiving, I want to offer the following two quotes:
"The true history of Thanksgiving reveals embarrassing facts. The Pilgrims did not introduce the tradition; Eastern Indians had observed autumnal harvest celebrations for centuries. Although George Washington did set aside days for national thanksgiving, our modern celebrations date back only to 1863. During the Civil War, when the Union needed all the patriotism that such an observance might muster, Abraham Lincoln proclaimed Thanksgiving a national holiday. The Pilgrims had nothing to do with it; not until the 1890s did they even get included in the tradition. For that matter, they were not commonly known as "the Pilgrims" until the 1870s."These two quotes come from the book, "Lies My Teacher Told Me: Everything Your American History Textbook Got Wrong" by James W. Loewen, pages 90 and 88, respectively. I offer them simply as a reminder that we've gotta get our history straight. Without an honest understanding of our roots, we can't truly understand who we are today. And that principle applies at the personal level as much as it does at the national level.
"The archetypes associated with Thanksgiving -- God on our side, civilization wrested from wilderness, order from disorder, through hard work and good Pilgrim character traits -- continue to radiate from our history textbooks."
Alright, I would write more, but I've really gotta get running. I hope you have a wonderful day with a generous helping of good food and whatever else you enjoy about this holiday (see the poll to the upper-left for reference). HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Bangkok airport under siege
While lying in bed this morning, listening to the BBC World News Report on NPR, I heard that anti-government protesters stormed the Bangkok airport, thus suspending all outgoing flights. This is the airport that I flew out of exactly 66 hours ago!
It reminds me of the advice of our taxi driver on our first morning in Bangkok: he said not to wear either red or yellow, because those are the respective colors of the government supporters and the anti-government protesters. As the BBC reported (see the article and video clip HERE), hundreds of yellow-shirted members of the People's Alliance for Democracy broke through police lines and entered the main terminal of the newly-built Bangkok airport.
Bangkok's two year-old Suvarnabhumi international airport is really nice; it may be the nicest airport that I've ever been in. Its architecture is sleek and modern: a steel lattice framework with large transparent windows, all lit up in a cool blue light (good photo HERE). It is spacious without seeming immense. It is multilingual and thus inviting to all visitors. I can only imagine the reaction of travelers at the sight of hundreds of yellow-shirted anti-government protesters; the article describes it as one of "bewilderment", I would guess that it would be one of incredulity along with a sick realization of misfortunate bad timing.
It reminds me of the advice of our taxi driver on our first morning in Bangkok: he said not to wear either red or yellow, because those are the respective colors of the government supporters and the anti-government protesters. As the BBC reported (see the article and video clip HERE), hundreds of yellow-shirted members of the People's Alliance for Democracy broke through police lines and entered the main terminal of the newly-built Bangkok airport.
Bangkok's two year-old Suvarnabhumi international airport is really nice; it may be the nicest airport that I've ever been in. Its architecture is sleek and modern: a steel lattice framework with large transparent windows, all lit up in a cool blue light (good photo HERE). It is spacious without seeming immense. It is multilingual and thus inviting to all visitors. I can only imagine the reaction of travelers at the sight of hundreds of yellow-shirted anti-government protesters; the article describes it as one of "bewilderment", I would guess that it would be one of incredulity along with a sick realization of misfortunate bad timing.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Home Sweet Home
Here I am. I'm sitting at my desk in my apartment at the double-deuce and Spruce. Rocky is curled up on the bed, leaning against the sweater that I wore yesterday to keep warm on the trip from Newark-Liberty International Airport to 30th Street Station Philadelphia and from there back home. The Baby is on the other side of the bed, leaning up against my pillow, and she's cleaning herself diligently. I'm drinking a cup of Costa Rican (Tarrazu) coffee that I just made. So, for the moment at least, things are good.
On the flight from Tokyo to Newark, I decided to watch the movie "Philadelphia", which I've never seen; I thought it was appropriate to see since I was on my way home, and also since I can't see myself ever renting it back home. The opening scenes of the movie, as well as the opening and closing songs (i.e., "Streets of Philadelphia" by Bruce Springsteen and "Philadelphia" by Neil Young), really tugged at my heartstrings. I was so ready to be back home. While the closing credits of the film were rolling, I wrote a few lines on the flight menu:
The flights were pretty uneventful. From Bangkok to Tokyo, it was a quick 5 hours, 30 minutes. From Tokyo to Newark, it was a steady 11 hours, 45 minutes. Both flights were faster than at the beginning of the trip; flying east is always faster because you're going with the flow of the jet stream.
Well, that's all for now. Keep an eye out for some interesting tweaks and additions to all my posts from TLC over the next day or two. Since I mentioned it, I'll conclude this post with a video for your viewing and listening pleasure:
By the way, I'll be sure to post some reflections of my TLC trip very soon, the kind of stuff that never fit into my narratives.
On the flight from Tokyo to Newark, I decided to watch the movie "Philadelphia", which I've never seen; I thought it was appropriate to see since I was on my way home, and also since I can't see myself ever renting it back home. The opening scenes of the movie, as well as the opening and closing songs (i.e., "Streets of Philadelphia" by Bruce Springsteen and "Philadelphia" by Neil Young), really tugged at my heartstrings. I was so ready to be back home. While the closing credits of the film were rolling, I wrote a few lines on the flight menu:
as far as i roamIt was such a warm feeling to see the illuminated skyline of Philadelphia as my Amtrak train made its way alongside I-95, then through North Philly, then across the Schuylkill River, and finally into the station at 30th Street. The train pulled in at 5:30pm; only 24 hours earlier, I was boarding my flight in Bangkok.
i will always come home
to my city of philly
the place that i love
The flights were pretty uneventful. From Bangkok to Tokyo, it was a quick 5 hours, 30 minutes. From Tokyo to Newark, it was a steady 11 hours, 45 minutes. Both flights were faster than at the beginning of the trip; flying east is always faster because you're going with the flow of the jet stream.
Well, that's all for now. Keep an eye out for some interesting tweaks and additions to all my posts from TLC over the next day or two. Since I mentioned it, I'll conclude this post with a video for your viewing and listening pleasure:
By the way, I'll be sure to post some reflections of my TLC trip very soon, the kind of stuff that never fit into my narratives.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Runnin' on empty
I got food poisoning yesterday. I'm recovering now, but I'm really angry that the trip has to end this way. I'm not sure who or what I'm angry at, but it fucking sucks that my trip is ending on such a terrible note.
It began with the taxi ride from Siem Reap to Poipet, two towns in Cambodia, the former is where we had stayed for the previous three nights, the latter is the town on the Cambodia-Thailand border. Poipet is the stereotypical border town: dirty, dusty, and just plain nasty. Paul and I were fortunate to get hooked up by our remork (the Cambodian word for tuk-tuk) driver, Mr. Prom Meta, with a personal taxi ride to the border; Meta called up a Thai friend of his who then drove us the three hours to Poipet. The ride was through the Cambodian countryside, which was characterized by flat marshlands. The first two hours, from Siem Reap to the town of Sisaphon, was on a bumpy, rocky, dirt road; this is when I first realized that I wasn't feeling normal, because I could hear a lot of liquid sloshing around in my stomach with every bump in the road, which was literally constant throughout the ride. The ride from Sisaphon to Poipet was not as bad, because it was a paved roadway, but by then I knew that I had to get to a toilet as soon as we'd arrive in Poipet. When we got there, I went inside a hotel within 50 meters of the border crossing to use their toilet. The bathroom was nasty and looked as if it had been abandoned for a long time. There was no toilet paper in the men's room, so I went into the women's bathroom where I found a half-full/half-empty bag of napkins, which I took back into the men's room. This time I emptied my insides in a way that felt different that other times on this trip; even though I had diarrhea for many days on this trip, I never felt so terribly unwell as I did this time. Previously it was just a matter of letting loose and then going on my way, feeling better for letting it out. This time I still felt like crap afterwards.
We walked across the border and the barrage of putrid smells -- from garbage to fish -- began to make me feel nauseous. But I kept going, knowing that I had to reach my ultimate goal of making it to Bangkok, where we had a nice hotel, with all the amenities, already booked. We walked through customs, and entered Thailand. Upon walking out into the streets, we got a tuk-tuk, which took us the few kilometers to the bus station of the Thai border town of Aranya Prathet. We were just in time; a 4:30pm bus bound for Bangkok was already loaded and about to depart. So we quickly bought our tickets and had our luggage put under the bus. Taking our seats on the bus, it seemed like the ride would be comfortable.
But for me, it wouldn't be. Not long into the ride, I realized that any smell would begin to make me feel nauseous. Paul had bought some potato chips, and I didn't say anything to him (he still doesn't know now), but the smell was making me feel sick. It wasn't more than a few minutes later, while looking out the window, that I felt the sudden impulse to run to the bathroom; I made it just in time to puke for a few minutes straight. The last meal that I had eaten, breakfast at Angelina's in Siem Reap that morning, came out. I continued vomiting until nothing was coming up, and still I kept gagging. I felt like shit, hunched over because the ceiling was too short for me to stand up, in a cramped bathroom at the back of a bus in Thailand. And right then, I knew it was going to be a long bus-ride back to Bangkok; it was four and a half hours long, and we hadn't been on the road for very long at that point.
There is no point belaboring how shitty I felt for the rest of the ride, or how various smells continued to nauseate me. By the end of the trip, after other passengers had gotten off at earlier stops, I was sitting in the very back of the bus, in an open area behind where the bathroom was, gagging and spitting up the last of the fluids from my insides into a plastic bag that someone had fortunately left behind. I had tried drinking some water when the bus stopped for its only pitstop, and while sitting in the seat next to Paul, and I had started puking that water into a long-sleeve dress shirt that I had in my hands. The entire experience was wretched.
Upon arriving to the Bangkok bus station at around 9:30pm, we hired a taxi to take us to our hotel, Suk 11. That ride was about 20 minutes long, and was uneventful. Paul checked us into the room, while a woman at the hotel took me directly to the room, where I immediately dressed down into more comfortable clothing and settled in for a few minutes. When Paul came up to the room, I told him that I was giving in, and he gave me an antibiotic, Levaquin, to begin killing the bacteria in my system. Then I got up to take a long, warm shower, and then got into bed. At that point it was probably 10:30 or 11pm. I stayed in bed for the most part until almost 12noon today. I only got up once in the middle of the night to puke out the one slice of white bread that I had eaten earlier in the night and the bottle of green gatorade that Paul had gotten for me.
Relative to that entire experience, I'm feeling better today. Thanks to God, I'm holding food and drink in my system today. I've drank some more gatorade and eaten some more white bread, and just before coming to this internet place, we went to a Starbucks, where I drank some hot English breakfast tea, and ate a cinnamon bun. I'm sure I've lost a couple more pounds in the past 24 hours. I'm happy to be ending this trip and returning home. A comment that I made to Paul earlier today is really unfortunate: I told him that I don't think I'll ever come back to this part of the world; out of 16 full days here, I had some degree of diarrhea for all but probably five days, that's not my idea of a good time. But I guess that's what I get for trying to eat the local food and for not being a tight-ass about washing my hands every two minutes. I don't mean to discourage anyone for coming to this part of the world. And maybe I won't feel so bitter once I'm home and I'm able to re-read this blog and look at all the photos from this trip. I guess you can just say that I'm ready to go the fuck home. I miss Rocky and the Baby. And I miss my regular and humble life at the double-deuce and Spruce. I guess I can really say, "there's no place like home, there's no place like home."
Anyway, I may post once more later tonight; I leave to go to the airport at around 2 or 3 in the morning. My flight out of Bangkok departs at 6am, then I'll have a layover in Tokyo, and then it's on to Newark-Liberty International Airport, in beloved New Jersey. The flights will be about 6 and 14 hours respectively, so I'd appreciate your prayers that I maintain my constitution throughout the flights and continue to feel and get better quickly. Once again, thanks so much for keeping up with my travels. I look forward to seeing and talking with everyone once I'm back home.
Philly, here I come!!!!!
It began with the taxi ride from Siem Reap to Poipet, two towns in Cambodia, the former is where we had stayed for the previous three nights, the latter is the town on the Cambodia-Thailand border. Poipet is the stereotypical border town: dirty, dusty, and just plain nasty. Paul and I were fortunate to get hooked up by our remork (the Cambodian word for tuk-tuk) driver, Mr. Prom Meta, with a personal taxi ride to the border; Meta called up a Thai friend of his who then drove us the three hours to Poipet. The ride was through the Cambodian countryside, which was characterized by flat marshlands. The first two hours, from Siem Reap to the town of Sisaphon, was on a bumpy, rocky, dirt road; this is when I first realized that I wasn't feeling normal, because I could hear a lot of liquid sloshing around in my stomach with every bump in the road, which was literally constant throughout the ride. The ride from Sisaphon to Poipet was not as bad, because it was a paved roadway, but by then I knew that I had to get to a toilet as soon as we'd arrive in Poipet. When we got there, I went inside a hotel within 50 meters of the border crossing to use their toilet. The bathroom was nasty and looked as if it had been abandoned for a long time. There was no toilet paper in the men's room, so I went into the women's bathroom where I found a half-full/half-empty bag of napkins, which I took back into the men's room. This time I emptied my insides in a way that felt different that other times on this trip; even though I had diarrhea for many days on this trip, I never felt so terribly unwell as I did this time. Previously it was just a matter of letting loose and then going on my way, feeling better for letting it out. This time I still felt like crap afterwards.
We walked across the border and the barrage of putrid smells -- from garbage to fish -- began to make me feel nauseous. But I kept going, knowing that I had to reach my ultimate goal of making it to Bangkok, where we had a nice hotel, with all the amenities, already booked. We walked through customs, and entered Thailand. Upon walking out into the streets, we got a tuk-tuk, which took us the few kilometers to the bus station of the Thai border town of Aranya Prathet. We were just in time; a 4:30pm bus bound for Bangkok was already loaded and about to depart. So we quickly bought our tickets and had our luggage put under the bus. Taking our seats on the bus, it seemed like the ride would be comfortable.
But for me, it wouldn't be. Not long into the ride, I realized that any smell would begin to make me feel nauseous. Paul had bought some potato chips, and I didn't say anything to him (he still doesn't know now), but the smell was making me feel sick. It wasn't more than a few minutes later, while looking out the window, that I felt the sudden impulse to run to the bathroom; I made it just in time to puke for a few minutes straight. The last meal that I had eaten, breakfast at Angelina's in Siem Reap that morning, came out. I continued vomiting until nothing was coming up, and still I kept gagging. I felt like shit, hunched over because the ceiling was too short for me to stand up, in a cramped bathroom at the back of a bus in Thailand. And right then, I knew it was going to be a long bus-ride back to Bangkok; it was four and a half hours long, and we hadn't been on the road for very long at that point.
There is no point belaboring how shitty I felt for the rest of the ride, or how various smells continued to nauseate me. By the end of the trip, after other passengers had gotten off at earlier stops, I was sitting in the very back of the bus, in an open area behind where the bathroom was, gagging and spitting up the last of the fluids from my insides into a plastic bag that someone had fortunately left behind. I had tried drinking some water when the bus stopped for its only pitstop, and while sitting in the seat next to Paul, and I had started puking that water into a long-sleeve dress shirt that I had in my hands. The entire experience was wretched.
Upon arriving to the Bangkok bus station at around 9:30pm, we hired a taxi to take us to our hotel, Suk 11. That ride was about 20 minutes long, and was uneventful. Paul checked us into the room, while a woman at the hotel took me directly to the room, where I immediately dressed down into more comfortable clothing and settled in for a few minutes. When Paul came up to the room, I told him that I was giving in, and he gave me an antibiotic, Levaquin, to begin killing the bacteria in my system. Then I got up to take a long, warm shower, and then got into bed. At that point it was probably 10:30 or 11pm. I stayed in bed for the most part until almost 12noon today. I only got up once in the middle of the night to puke out the one slice of white bread that I had eaten earlier in the night and the bottle of green gatorade that Paul had gotten for me.
Relative to that entire experience, I'm feeling better today. Thanks to God, I'm holding food and drink in my system today. I've drank some more gatorade and eaten some more white bread, and just before coming to this internet place, we went to a Starbucks, where I drank some hot English breakfast tea, and ate a cinnamon bun. I'm sure I've lost a couple more pounds in the past 24 hours. I'm happy to be ending this trip and returning home. A comment that I made to Paul earlier today is really unfortunate: I told him that I don't think I'll ever come back to this part of the world; out of 16 full days here, I had some degree of diarrhea for all but probably five days, that's not my idea of a good time. But I guess that's what I get for trying to eat the local food and for not being a tight-ass about washing my hands every two minutes. I don't mean to discourage anyone for coming to this part of the world. And maybe I won't feel so bitter once I'm home and I'm able to re-read this blog and look at all the photos from this trip. I guess you can just say that I'm ready to go the fuck home. I miss Rocky and the Baby. And I miss my regular and humble life at the double-deuce and Spruce. I guess I can really say, "there's no place like home, there's no place like home."
Anyway, I may post once more later tonight; I leave to go to the airport at around 2 or 3 in the morning. My flight out of Bangkok departs at 6am, then I'll have a layover in Tokyo, and then it's on to Newark-Liberty International Airport, in beloved New Jersey. The flights will be about 6 and 14 hours respectively, so I'd appreciate your prayers that I maintain my constitution throughout the flights and continue to feel and get better quickly. Once again, thanks so much for keeping up with my travels. I look forward to seeing and talking with everyone once I'm back home.
Philly, here I come!!!!!
Friday, November 21, 2008
On the road again
I'll have to post a more complete blog entry later tonight, but for now Paul and I will be leaving momentarily to once again hit the road. We're leaving Siem Reap, and all of Cambodia, to head back to Bangkok, Thailand. Thus, our trip is about to come full circle. It's gonna be another long travel day, as we've gotten somewhat used to doing: 3 hours or more from Siem Reap to the Cambodia-Thailand border in a taxi, then 4 hours or more on a bus from the Thai border town of Aranya Prathet back to the capital city of Bangkok.
Yesterday we spent the entire day, from sunrise to sunset, at the temples of Angkor Wat. I'll have to write some details about that later, but if you haven't been there before, I'd suggest that you look at some photos online to familiarize yourself before the written word comes later; just a suggestion, that's all.
Okay folks, hope you're happy and healthy, or at least moving positively in that direction. I'll write again soon, God willing. Peace!
Yesterday we spent the entire day, from sunrise to sunset, at the temples of Angkor Wat. I'll have to write some details about that later, but if you haven't been there before, I'd suggest that you look at some photos online to familiarize yourself before the written word comes later; just a suggestion, that's all.
Okay folks, hope you're happy and healthy, or at least moving positively in that direction. I'll write again soon, God willing. Peace!
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
R & R
Today was a day of rest and relaxation. Our marathon traveling, on buses and planes, definitely caught up to us. We were gonna wake up at 8am this morning, but we never heard the alarm (if it even went off in the first place). We woke up on our own a little past 10am. So we decided to just bum around the town of Siem Reap today, which wasn't such a bad thing. We went for a really good breakfast at a place called Angelina's, which I assume was named after Angelina Jolie, who came here to film the movie Tomb Raider at Angkor Wat and also to pick-up a child to take home with her too. After breaking our fast, we went to Blue Pumpkin, a fancy-looking cafe, but with refreshing coffee products for about US$2 each and very easy-to-look-at-and-talk-to (too many dashes) Cambodian waitresses. The rest of the day went by as a blur of just walking around, going back to the room to fall asleep while listening to tunes, then walking to the Lucky Mall where we acted like goobers (as Evan would say) by going up and down the same escalator at least 20 times -- no exaggeration; everyone was laughing at us, even the security guards. After that, we walked to a nearby Thai restaurant to eat some pad thai. Tonight we went for just a couple drinks at the Banana Leaf, a nice spot located on Pub Street (a kind of Bourbon Street type atmosphere sans beads). Well, as you can probably tell, I'm a little too tired to type tonight, plus its gonna be a 5am wake-up to go to see the sunrise at Angkor Wat tomorrow morning. Hope all is well wherever in the world you happen to be!
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
See, we made it to the C in TLC
Cambodia. More specifically, the town of Siem Reap.
Immediately after signing out of this 'ere blog last night in Savannakhet, Paul and I deliberated our choice of options. Option #1: stay in Savannakhet for the night, take a bus to Pakse, then try to figure out how to get from Pakse, Laos to Siem Reap, Cambodia, a pretty good distance apart, including an overland border crossing. Or, option #2: leave immediately on a 9:30pm bus from Savannakhet to Pakse, Laos, go to the Pakse airport, and see if we'd be lucky enough to buy plane tickets for a 10:30am flight from Pakse to Siem Reap, Cambodia, the next flight not being until Thursday.
We chose option #2. Although we were still pretty wiped out from being dropped-off at the side of the road outside of Savannakhet at 2:30 in the morning less than 24 hours earlier, we decided that the benefit to gaining a lot of time -- with much less hassle -- by flying to Cambodia outweighed the cost of pushing ourselves back on the road so soon.
The bus ride from Savannakhet to Pakse was about five hours long: 9:30pm to 2:30am. It was more comfortable than the hellish bus ride the previous day from Vientiane to Savannakhet. But, for me at least, there was one pretty good highlight. So I'm sitting toward the back of the bus, on an aisle seat near the stairwell that led down to the lower deck (it was a double-decker bus). Sitting next to me on my left was the stereotypical small, gray-haired, old Asian guy. Over the course of the trip he took off his sandals and his legs were short and frail enough to pull them up towards his chest and rest his feet on the edge of the seat. Anyway, about three hours into the trip, the old guy slides open the window next to him, grabs a plastic bag from the ledge in front of us, and tosses the contents of the bag out the window. I kinda chuckled at that. Oh, by the way, the bus was completely dark, as there were no street lights on Route 13, there were no other vehicles on the road besides our bus, and all the lights on the inside of the bus were turned off so people could sleep -- the only light was from the headlights of the bus and the moon high overhead. So that's the set-up when this old guy is holding the now-empty plastic bag in his hand; he then inches up to sit on the very edge of his seat, and angles his body slightly toward the wall. He sat in that position for a solid 30 seconds or more, then cautiously took the plastic bag filled with his warm piss, held it out the window, and let it fly. He sat back with a look of contentment, and I just laughed to myself.
For the second night in a row, Paul and I were dropped-off on the side of the road in the middle of the night. We were on Route 13 -- the major north-south artery in Laos -- just outside of Pakse. A Laotian guy who I had been joking with showed me his watch, and it read 15 minutes to 3am. Paul and I sat there as there was an intermittent light drizzle, until finally, about half an hour later, I was able to wave down a motorcycle with a sidecar, the driver willing to take us to the Pakse airport. But he was already taking another fellow who had to sit behind him, while Paul and I squeezed into the narrow sidecarriage, and our bulky backpacks had to be strapped to the back. We were dropped-off outside the airport, which was closed, at about 4am. We had no choice but to rest/sleep under an awning of a wooden shack on the side of the road across from the airport. I barely slept because the mosquitos began to harass me a bit. I watched the sun rise over the Laotian countryside.
We were successful at buying tickets for the 10:30am flight from Pakse to Siem Reap: US$106 each. So that now brings us to our arrival here in Cambodia. We're now staying at the River Star Hotel, right in the center of town for $15 total per night, with air-conditioning and cable television. We're within easy walking distance of tons of bars and restaurants. And I got the business card from the young guy who drove us from the airport to downtown, in case we decide to take him up on his offer for a discounted rate to drive out to the temples of Angkor Wat.
Anyway, Paul just came up to me here in the lobby of the hotel. We're gonna head out now to get a bite to eat and get things rolling for the evening. By the way, please click HERE to visit Paul's blog; his goal is to get 1000 hits before the end of the trip, so he'd appreciate your help in his cause.
Alright folks. Peace in the Middle East. Health in the Illadelph. I'm audi!!!
Immediately after signing out of this 'ere blog last night in Savannakhet, Paul and I deliberated our choice of options. Option #1: stay in Savannakhet for the night, take a bus to Pakse, then try to figure out how to get from Pakse, Laos to Siem Reap, Cambodia, a pretty good distance apart, including an overland border crossing. Or, option #2: leave immediately on a 9:30pm bus from Savannakhet to Pakse, Laos, go to the Pakse airport, and see if we'd be lucky enough to buy plane tickets for a 10:30am flight from Pakse to Siem Reap, Cambodia, the next flight not being until Thursday.
We chose option #2. Although we were still pretty wiped out from being dropped-off at the side of the road outside of Savannakhet at 2:30 in the morning less than 24 hours earlier, we decided that the benefit to gaining a lot of time -- with much less hassle -- by flying to Cambodia outweighed the cost of pushing ourselves back on the road so soon.
The bus ride from Savannakhet to Pakse was about five hours long: 9:30pm to 2:30am. It was more comfortable than the hellish bus ride the previous day from Vientiane to Savannakhet. But, for me at least, there was one pretty good highlight. So I'm sitting toward the back of the bus, on an aisle seat near the stairwell that led down to the lower deck (it was a double-decker bus). Sitting next to me on my left was the stereotypical small, gray-haired, old Asian guy. Over the course of the trip he took off his sandals and his legs were short and frail enough to pull them up towards his chest and rest his feet on the edge of the seat. Anyway, about three hours into the trip, the old guy slides open the window next to him, grabs a plastic bag from the ledge in front of us, and tosses the contents of the bag out the window. I kinda chuckled at that. Oh, by the way, the bus was completely dark, as there were no street lights on Route 13, there were no other vehicles on the road besides our bus, and all the lights on the inside of the bus were turned off so people could sleep -- the only light was from the headlights of the bus and the moon high overhead. So that's the set-up when this old guy is holding the now-empty plastic bag in his hand; he then inches up to sit on the very edge of his seat, and angles his body slightly toward the wall. He sat in that position for a solid 30 seconds or more, then cautiously took the plastic bag filled with his warm piss, held it out the window, and let it fly. He sat back with a look of contentment, and I just laughed to myself.
For the second night in a row, Paul and I were dropped-off on the side of the road in the middle of the night. We were on Route 13 -- the major north-south artery in Laos -- just outside of Pakse. A Laotian guy who I had been joking with showed me his watch, and it read 15 minutes to 3am. Paul and I sat there as there was an intermittent light drizzle, until finally, about half an hour later, I was able to wave down a motorcycle with a sidecar, the driver willing to take us to the Pakse airport. But he was already taking another fellow who had to sit behind him, while Paul and I squeezed into the narrow sidecarriage, and our bulky backpacks had to be strapped to the back. We were dropped-off outside the airport, which was closed, at about 4am. We had no choice but to rest/sleep under an awning of a wooden shack on the side of the road across from the airport. I barely slept because the mosquitos began to harass me a bit. I watched the sun rise over the Laotian countryside.
We were successful at buying tickets for the 10:30am flight from Pakse to Siem Reap: US$106 each. So that now brings us to our arrival here in Cambodia. We're now staying at the River Star Hotel, right in the center of town for $15 total per night, with air-conditioning and cable television. We're within easy walking distance of tons of bars and restaurants. And I got the business card from the young guy who drove us from the airport to downtown, in case we decide to take him up on his offer for a discounted rate to drive out to the temples of Angkor Wat.
Anyway, Paul just came up to me here in the lobby of the hotel. We're gonna head out now to get a bite to eat and get things rolling for the evening. By the way, please click HERE to visit Paul's blog; his goal is to get 1000 hits before the end of the trip, so he'd appreciate your help in his cause.
Alright folks. Peace in the Middle East. Health in the Illadelph. I'm audi!!!
Monday, November 17, 2008
The world's universal sport
Futbol. Or as we United-Statesians call it: soccer. It certainly is the world's universal, unifying sport, as you'll see just a lil bit below.
Earlier this afternoon, after a long, long conversation -- concerning life and love -- over coffee (for me) and ice cream (for Paul) at the Dao Savanh restaurant here in Savannakhet, I suggested that we take a stroll to let everything digest and to see the town a little more since we're leaving tomorrow morning for Pakse. While walking along, we saw a typical storefront selling all sorts of clothing and various random items. Among those other things I noticed several soccer balls hanging there; we tried to bargain the guy down from the 60,000 kip price tag, but he wouldn't budge. We moved on, but the idea was set in my head; we had the rest of the afternoon to kill, so why not? We fortuitously came upon another shop on the other side of the nearby intersection, and were successful in bargaining down to 40,000 kip for a small soccer ball. But where were we to play? I looked down a side street right there, and saw a group of kids milling about; a couple of girls were flying a kite high, high in the air. So we walked over and tossed the ball towards the the young boys, all probably around the ages of 10-12. For the next half-hour, Paul and I played soccer with them. At the beginning they tried to dribble the ball past us. But by the end we all gathered in a circle to see how many times we could hit the ball without it hitting the ground. I should also mention that, while Paul and I were wearing sneakers, all of these kids were running around barefoot on a gravel and dirt side-street. Older people in nearby buildings would stop to watch us play with the kids. The kids had asked us where we were from, so we told them "America." At the end, having sufficiently worn ourselves out, we went around to each boy -- I shook their hand, Paul gave them a high-five -- and left them with the soccer ball. When they realized that we were leaving the soccer ball with them, the kids' faces lit up like it was Christmas morning; they were thrilled! Paul and I felt proud that we had played our role as positive intercultural ambassadors. Those kids won't forget that a couple crazy guys from America had lots of fun playing soccer with them on their little street. As I told Paul, that's the kind of shit that's not in the guidebooks, and when we look back on this trip, whether it be in just a few days or weeks or months or even many years from now, that's the kind of memory that we'll feel good about, knowing that so many other tourists stick to their Lonely Planet itinerary and follow the elephant-train of tourists from one spot to the next. We had a blast kicking the ball around with those kids, and all it took was a $5 ball and just making shit happen.
Alright, time to make a decision. We might actually take a bus out tonight, in order to get to Pakse in time to fly from there to Siem Reap, Cambodia tomorrow morning. Do I really feel like leaving right now? Not really, but we have to be mindful of the fact that time is at such a premium at this point in the trip. I gotta sign out now; time to figure out what the heck we're doing . . .
Earlier this afternoon, after a long, long conversation -- concerning life and love -- over coffee (for me) and ice cream (for Paul) at the Dao Savanh restaurant here in Savannakhet, I suggested that we take a stroll to let everything digest and to see the town a little more since we're leaving tomorrow morning for Pakse. While walking along, we saw a typical storefront selling all sorts of clothing and various random items. Among those other things I noticed several soccer balls hanging there; we tried to bargain the guy down from the 60,000 kip price tag, but he wouldn't budge. We moved on, but the idea was set in my head; we had the rest of the afternoon to kill, so why not? We fortuitously came upon another shop on the other side of the nearby intersection, and were successful in bargaining down to 40,000 kip for a small soccer ball. But where were we to play? I looked down a side street right there, and saw a group of kids milling about; a couple of girls were flying a kite high, high in the air. So we walked over and tossed the ball towards the the young boys, all probably around the ages of 10-12. For the next half-hour, Paul and I played soccer with them. At the beginning they tried to dribble the ball past us. But by the end we all gathered in a circle to see how many times we could hit the ball without it hitting the ground. I should also mention that, while Paul and I were wearing sneakers, all of these kids were running around barefoot on a gravel and dirt side-street. Older people in nearby buildings would stop to watch us play with the kids. The kids had asked us where we were from, so we told them "America." At the end, having sufficiently worn ourselves out, we went around to each boy -- I shook their hand, Paul gave them a high-five -- and left them with the soccer ball. When they realized that we were leaving the soccer ball with them, the kids' faces lit up like it was Christmas morning; they were thrilled! Paul and I felt proud that we had played our role as positive intercultural ambassadors. Those kids won't forget that a couple crazy guys from America had lots of fun playing soccer with them on their little street. As I told Paul, that's the kind of shit that's not in the guidebooks, and when we look back on this trip, whether it be in just a few days or weeks or months or even many years from now, that's the kind of memory that we'll feel good about, knowing that so many other tourists stick to their Lonely Planet itinerary and follow the elephant-train of tourists from one spot to the next. We had a blast kicking the ball around with those kids, and all it took was a $5 ball and just making shit happen.
Alright, time to make a decision. We might actually take a bus out tonight, in order to get to Pakse in time to fly from there to Siem Reap, Cambodia tomorrow morning. Do I really feel like leaving right now? Not really, but we have to be mindful of the fact that time is at such a premium at this point in the trip. I gotta sign out now; time to figure out what the heck we're doing . . .
"Sabai dee"
"Hello" in Lao. I'm writing now from Savannakhet, Laos. There is much to catch up on. But I'll live it backwards: ooooh, crazy, huh? It's now Monday early afternoon in this here part of the world. What time is it in your neck of the woods? [I just made you look at the clock in the lower-right of your computer screen and answer that question with that little voice -- that sounds a lot like you! -- inside your head].
Right before coming to this internet place, Paul and I went into St. Teresia's Catholic Church, purportedly the only Catholic church in Laos, built in 1930. It's located right in the middle of town. We went in and took a few minutes to say our respective prayers. I thanked God for, among other things, allowing me the freedom and ability to make a trip like this. As much as I'm missing home right now, I'm still quite aware of the fact that I'm living a life experience, and that so many people throughout the world never see much beyond their immediate surroundings. I'm tremendously grateful to be here, and to share the sights, sounds, and smells with one of my very good friends is a very fortunate thing too.
Yesterday was a major travel day; hence the fact that I've appeared -- to you, at least -- to have been absent for a little while. We left Vang Vieng on a 10am VIP bus for Vientiane, the capital city to the south. Despite the fact that the bus was labeled as VIP, and we thought the ride would be quick, the bus moved at a snail's pace. The main redeeming aspect of the trip was that I sat next to a French girl, with whom I spoke for most of the five-hour bus ride. I was interested to find out that she's a law student back in her hometown of Paris, studying abroad in Vietnam, and -- get this -- that one of her favorite groups is The Roots (Philly's premier hip-hop band, and yes they're most certainly a band). I'll take the liberty, and risk, in admitting right here that talking with her really made me miss the companionship of a girl. To save my ass from certain retribution back home, though, I'll immediately follow-up and say that the Parisian girl and I parted ways as soon as the bus arrived in Vientiane. But the residual of that conversation got me thinking about Philly for the rest of the day and night:
"All this roamin's got me missin' home 'n' all this globe-travelin's got me unravelin'" - me
We took a very long and quite excruciating bus ride from Vientiane to Savannakhet last night; we departed at 6pm and didn't get into Savannakhet until after 2 in the morning. There were long stretches of that ride that I was staring out the window, looking out at the outstretched moonlit fields, convincing myself foolishly that I was on Route 70 back near Medford, New Jersey. And for the first couple hours of that ride, I listened to The Roots' albums "Things Fall Apart" and "The Tipping Point" back-to-back. About two hours or more into the busride, the bus driver pulled over to let everyone go take a piss in the high grass alongside the road (even an old woman went into the grass to squat down and do her thang); after relieving myself under a midnight blue canopy pierced with thousands and thousands of stars, I talked with Paul for a few minutes. I told him that I felt so homesick that it felt like my heart hurt; it felt to me that my heart was just gonna jump out of my chest and run to the airport for the next flight back to the Two-One-Five. Oh well. I understand that a trip like this comes with the full gamut of emotions.
The bus ride was rough, but I was so serene in my own dreamy thoughts that I guess it could've been worse. I sat in the second to last row at the back of the bus, so I didn't want to recline my seat, knowing that the last row couldn't recline theirs. And Paul was sitting in the seat directly in front of me, reclined as far back as possible, so my room to manuever was quite minimal. And the guy (French I think) sitting next to me didn't afford me any room to move my upper leg past the dividing line between my seat and his. I was packed in like a sardine.
When we arrived in Savannakhet, the bus literally dropped us off on the side of the road. We had no clear idea what direction to walk, as everything was closed and pretty dark. We decided to walk in the direction that we'd seen a couple Laotians walking, but we were really clueless. The first two guesthouses that we saw were locked up and inaccessible. So we just kept on walking. A security guard pointed us in the right direction, but as we found out later, we were still pretty far from the center of town. We were certainly blessed when a guy drove up and offered us a ride into town and directly to the Savanbaohao guesthouse, which happened to be one in our guidebook. The main gate was padlocked, so I hopped the fence while Paul waited outside with the bags. I walked around the entire premises, but "not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse." Finally, I saw the reception area, behind the desk there were two tents, so I did my best not to startle their inhabitants; I noticed a clock that said just a few minutes to 3am. Fortunately one of the guys woke up and let us have two rooms, we didn't really care what the price was, we just wanted to lay down our hats and get some shut-eye, which we definitely did.
But rewinding back to the beginning of the bus ride, something very interesting happened. Our bus was scheduled to depart at 6pm from Vientiane, which it did. But as soon as it pulled out of the station, not even one minute later, it pulled over to the side of the road. A horde of vendors came onto the bus and began hawking their candies and drinks to all the passengers. They were literally elbowing each other to be the first one down the aisle. I thought that was pretty funny, but pretty normal. Eventually they all got off the bus, but for some unknown reason we continued to sit there. After several minutes, I noticed the bus driver squating down next to the sidewalk and smoking a cigarette; by this time it was almost 6:30 and I thought to myself, what the hell is going on? Then the driver started messing around with this motorcycle; this made no sense at all. Until a couple minutes later, when I realized that two guys were bringing the motorcycle on to the bus! Let me repeat that: they brought a fucking motorcycle on to the bus and parked it in the narrow aisle between passengers. And it was not only one motorcycle, but two! Absolutely amazing. I was just laughing incredulously, especially when I realized that the Laotians were looking back to see our (the falangs': the foreigners') reaction. Later, as I said, we got out of the bus for piss breaks, those of us toward the back of the bus had to step on and climb over the motorcycles in order to get out. And that's when I also realized that they squeezed in even more passengers by making several people sit on plastic stools in the remaining section of the aisle that wasn't already used as a parking space for motorcycles. Only in the Third World, I tell ya, only in the Third World.
So let's continue on our odyssey in time from the present back to the not-so-distant past. I told you how we left Vang Vieng on that bus ride to Vientiane. Well, the day before was our big day in Vang Vieng. I mentioned in an earlier post that the main attraction in the double V is floating down the Nam Xong River on huge tractor inner tubes. What I did not mention, though, is that there are several bars located right along the river, that patrons stop at to drink Beer Lao, Tiger beer, and Mekong whiskey. Each bar is also equipped with enormous speakers, blasting out electronic music (e.g., Kernkraft 400), alternative rock (e.g., Sublime, Green Day, The Killers), and classic shit (e.g., AC/DC, Bon Jovi). These bars are filled with mostly early 20-something backpackers, wearing bikinis and bathing suits, everyone just getting fucked up from all the alcohol under a hot Lao sun. The scene can best be described as Spring Break / MTV Beachhouse, Laos style. Besides the tubing, each bar has ziplines and high platforms that revellers can ride or jump from into the river. Because I had heard that a guy had literally cracked his head open the day before (and our Rough Guide book says that people have died), I decided to be a little more cautious, and only rode one of the tamer ziplines out into the water. But other spring breakers were doing flips and all sorts of stupid tricks. An older Canadian guy who we had met on our bus ride from Luang Prabang the day before actually dislocated his shoulder on the zipline at the second bar; they had to boat him over to the other side of the river and take him back into town for medical attention. We had a lot of fun, although it was certainly tantalizing to see all those girls in bikinis; fuck I wanna go home! [straightening my tie and regaining my composure]. Umm, so anyway, another highlight was playing volleyball in a large puddle of mud (no intentional reference to the rock band) at the third bar; I would serve the ball and fall face-first so that I could splash all the other players, especially the girls [stay focused], with mud. At the last bar that we stopped off at, there was a very real feeling that we were at spring break. The Laotians had built a huge slide that shot you out into the middle of the river; the interior was lined with bathroom tiles. Paul gave it a try, while I took a photo of him, his body spit out like a rag doll into the river. There was a rosy-faced white guy manning the dj booth at that bar, and people were dancing as drunk people do. A large circle formed, so Paul and I realized that our skills were being called forth. Paul entered the circle, kneeled down in the middle, and held a bottle of Tiger beer up in the air, but not too high off the ground; everyone held their breath, wondering what I would possibly do; so I dramatically stretched and showboated for a minute before approaching the bottle, bending over, putting my mouth on the bottle and then did a flip over Paul and the bottle to land like a jackass in the dirt on the other side. I think I kinda messed up my right wrist, which still feels a little weird, but it was all for a good cause. The final stretch from the last bar to our point of disembarkation was really, really long; for at least 20 minutes we were just gently floating down the river, as the sun set behind the limestone mountains that rose imposingly not far from the riverside. It was really quite beautiful.
Well, this has become an incredibly long post. So I think I'll stop it here. What's that? You want more? Well, we'll see what we can do to deliver so more tomfoolery and shenanigans your way; our skylarking and horseplay will surely continue.
Right before coming to this internet place, Paul and I went into St. Teresia's Catholic Church, purportedly the only Catholic church in Laos, built in 1930. It's located right in the middle of town. We went in and took a few minutes to say our respective prayers. I thanked God for, among other things, allowing me the freedom and ability to make a trip like this. As much as I'm missing home right now, I'm still quite aware of the fact that I'm living a life experience, and that so many people throughout the world never see much beyond their immediate surroundings. I'm tremendously grateful to be here, and to share the sights, sounds, and smells with one of my very good friends is a very fortunate thing too.
Yesterday was a major travel day; hence the fact that I've appeared -- to you, at least -- to have been absent for a little while. We left Vang Vieng on a 10am VIP bus for Vientiane, the capital city to the south. Despite the fact that the bus was labeled as VIP, and we thought the ride would be quick, the bus moved at a snail's pace. The main redeeming aspect of the trip was that I sat next to a French girl, with whom I spoke for most of the five-hour bus ride. I was interested to find out that she's a law student back in her hometown of Paris, studying abroad in Vietnam, and -- get this -- that one of her favorite groups is The Roots (Philly's premier hip-hop band, and yes they're most certainly a band). I'll take the liberty, and risk, in admitting right here that talking with her really made me miss the companionship of a girl. To save my ass from certain retribution back home, though, I'll immediately follow-up and say that the Parisian girl and I parted ways as soon as the bus arrived in Vientiane. But the residual of that conversation got me thinking about Philly for the rest of the day and night:
"All this roamin's got me missin' home 'n' all this globe-travelin's got me unravelin'" - me
We took a very long and quite excruciating bus ride from Vientiane to Savannakhet last night; we departed at 6pm and didn't get into Savannakhet until after 2 in the morning. There were long stretches of that ride that I was staring out the window, looking out at the outstretched moonlit fields, convincing myself foolishly that I was on Route 70 back near Medford, New Jersey. And for the first couple hours of that ride, I listened to The Roots' albums "Things Fall Apart" and "The Tipping Point" back-to-back. About two hours or more into the busride, the bus driver pulled over to let everyone go take a piss in the high grass alongside the road (even an old woman went into the grass to squat down and do her thang); after relieving myself under a midnight blue canopy pierced with thousands and thousands of stars, I talked with Paul for a few minutes. I told him that I felt so homesick that it felt like my heart hurt; it felt to me that my heart was just gonna jump out of my chest and run to the airport for the next flight back to the Two-One-Five. Oh well. I understand that a trip like this comes with the full gamut of emotions.
The bus ride was rough, but I was so serene in my own dreamy thoughts that I guess it could've been worse. I sat in the second to last row at the back of the bus, so I didn't want to recline my seat, knowing that the last row couldn't recline theirs. And Paul was sitting in the seat directly in front of me, reclined as far back as possible, so my room to manuever was quite minimal. And the guy (French I think) sitting next to me didn't afford me any room to move my upper leg past the dividing line between my seat and his. I was packed in like a sardine.
When we arrived in Savannakhet, the bus literally dropped us off on the side of the road. We had no clear idea what direction to walk, as everything was closed and pretty dark. We decided to walk in the direction that we'd seen a couple Laotians walking, but we were really clueless. The first two guesthouses that we saw were locked up and inaccessible. So we just kept on walking. A security guard pointed us in the right direction, but as we found out later, we were still pretty far from the center of town. We were certainly blessed when a guy drove up and offered us a ride into town and directly to the Savanbaohao guesthouse, which happened to be one in our guidebook. The main gate was padlocked, so I hopped the fence while Paul waited outside with the bags. I walked around the entire premises, but "not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse." Finally, I saw the reception area, behind the desk there were two tents, so I did my best not to startle their inhabitants; I noticed a clock that said just a few minutes to 3am. Fortunately one of the guys woke up and let us have two rooms, we didn't really care what the price was, we just wanted to lay down our hats and get some shut-eye, which we definitely did.
But rewinding back to the beginning of the bus ride, something very interesting happened. Our bus was scheduled to depart at 6pm from Vientiane, which it did. But as soon as it pulled out of the station, not even one minute later, it pulled over to the side of the road. A horde of vendors came onto the bus and began hawking their candies and drinks to all the passengers. They were literally elbowing each other to be the first one down the aisle. I thought that was pretty funny, but pretty normal. Eventually they all got off the bus, but for some unknown reason we continued to sit there. After several minutes, I noticed the bus driver squating down next to the sidewalk and smoking a cigarette; by this time it was almost 6:30 and I thought to myself, what the hell is going on? Then the driver started messing around with this motorcycle; this made no sense at all. Until a couple minutes later, when I realized that two guys were bringing the motorcycle on to the bus! Let me repeat that: they brought a fucking motorcycle on to the bus and parked it in the narrow aisle between passengers. And it was not only one motorcycle, but two! Absolutely amazing. I was just laughing incredulously, especially when I realized that the Laotians were looking back to see our (the falangs': the foreigners') reaction. Later, as I said, we got out of the bus for piss breaks, those of us toward the back of the bus had to step on and climb over the motorcycles in order to get out. And that's when I also realized that they squeezed in even more passengers by making several people sit on plastic stools in the remaining section of the aisle that wasn't already used as a parking space for motorcycles. Only in the Third World, I tell ya, only in the Third World.
So let's continue on our odyssey in time from the present back to the not-so-distant past. I told you how we left Vang Vieng on that bus ride to Vientiane. Well, the day before was our big day in Vang Vieng. I mentioned in an earlier post that the main attraction in the double V is floating down the Nam Xong River on huge tractor inner tubes. What I did not mention, though, is that there are several bars located right along the river, that patrons stop at to drink Beer Lao, Tiger beer, and Mekong whiskey. Each bar is also equipped with enormous speakers, blasting out electronic music (e.g., Kernkraft 400), alternative rock (e.g., Sublime, Green Day, The Killers), and classic shit (e.g., AC/DC, Bon Jovi). These bars are filled with mostly early 20-something backpackers, wearing bikinis and bathing suits, everyone just getting fucked up from all the alcohol under a hot Lao sun. The scene can best be described as Spring Break / MTV Beachhouse, Laos style. Besides the tubing, each bar has ziplines and high platforms that revellers can ride or jump from into the river. Because I had heard that a guy had literally cracked his head open the day before (and our Rough Guide book says that people have died), I decided to be a little more cautious, and only rode one of the tamer ziplines out into the water. But other spring breakers were doing flips and all sorts of stupid tricks. An older Canadian guy who we had met on our bus ride from Luang Prabang the day before actually dislocated his shoulder on the zipline at the second bar; they had to boat him over to the other side of the river and take him back into town for medical attention. We had a lot of fun, although it was certainly tantalizing to see all those girls in bikinis; fuck I wanna go home! [straightening my tie and regaining my composure]. Umm, so anyway, another highlight was playing volleyball in a large puddle of mud (no intentional reference to the rock band) at the third bar; I would serve the ball and fall face-first so that I could splash all the other players, especially the girls [stay focused], with mud. At the last bar that we stopped off at, there was a very real feeling that we were at spring break. The Laotians had built a huge slide that shot you out into the middle of the river; the interior was lined with bathroom tiles. Paul gave it a try, while I took a photo of him, his body spit out like a rag doll into the river. There was a rosy-faced white guy manning the dj booth at that bar, and people were dancing as drunk people do. A large circle formed, so Paul and I realized that our skills were being called forth. Paul entered the circle, kneeled down in the middle, and held a bottle of Tiger beer up in the air, but not too high off the ground; everyone held their breath, wondering what I would possibly do; so I dramatically stretched and showboated for a minute before approaching the bottle, bending over, putting my mouth on the bottle and then did a flip over Paul and the bottle to land like a jackass in the dirt on the other side. I think I kinda messed up my right wrist, which still feels a little weird, but it was all for a good cause. The final stretch from the last bar to our point of disembarkation was really, really long; for at least 20 minutes we were just gently floating down the river, as the sun set behind the limestone mountains that rose imposingly not far from the riverside. It was really quite beautiful.
Well, this has become an incredibly long post. So I think I'll stop it here. What's that? You want more? Well, we'll see what we can do to deliver so more tomfoolery and shenanigans your way; our skylarking and horseplay will surely continue.
Friday, November 14, 2008
From the double V
Vang Vieng. I'll keep this one short, because I'm in a chilled out mood tonight. Two quick stories and a personal message from me to you:
For our last night in Luang Prabang, Paul and I decided to check out the much-talked about bowling alley. There is a city law that alcohol cannot be served past 11pm in Luang Prabang. To get around that law there is a bowling alley just outside the city limits that continues to serve alcohol for a bit longer. We took a tuk-tuk (that sounds funny) from the night market to our guesthouse to drop off our stuff, then we were driven out to the bowling alley. It was a really good time. I think there were eight lanes, with electronic scoreboards on monitors both above the lane and next to the chilling-out area. Around 11pm, when some more people started showing up, they began playing popular hip-hop tunes, like Cyclone, One-Two Step, and others I can't remember because the Beer Lao's were starting to get to me. For the record, I beat Paul in our first two games, by two points and then by five points, ha!
Now tonight we just went out for a bite to eat on the main drag here in Vang Vieng. Very interesting to get a "happy menu," which is apparently quite common here in VV. The happy menu literally lists a bag of weed, opium tea, a ganja joint, and about 15 other similar choices for sale. You can see why Vang Vieng is a very popular stop-over for the backpacker crowd.
Finally tonight, I just wanna thank everything for continuing to check in. I know that my writing style is very detail-oriented; for those that enjoy it, cool, for those that don't like it, you can go to hell. As much as I'm very happy to be able to pass on our stories to everyone back home and around the world, I'll admit that as much as anything, my blog -- just like my previous handwritten journals -- is a way for me to remember things after they begin to slip into the past. You see, the thing is, I've had a very bad memory for experiences my entire life; I don't know why, but that's the way I am. So, more so than most other people, I really, really need photos and my own personal words and descriptions to eventually remind me of good times past. Believe it or not, if not for these things, I would forget all but the most striking experiences. And, selfishly, I'd like to relive these memories over and over and over again. So thank you very much, kind reader, for accepting me for who I am, and also for joining us for a good ride through SE Asia.
With that said, I wish you a very good night from Vang Vieng, Laos! Buenas noches! Boa noite! Bon soir! Good night!
For our last night in Luang Prabang, Paul and I decided to check out the much-talked about bowling alley. There is a city law that alcohol cannot be served past 11pm in Luang Prabang. To get around that law there is a bowling alley just outside the city limits that continues to serve alcohol for a bit longer. We took a tuk-tuk (that sounds funny) from the night market to our guesthouse to drop off our stuff, then we were driven out to the bowling alley. It was a really good time. I think there were eight lanes, with electronic scoreboards on monitors both above the lane and next to the chilling-out area. Around 11pm, when some more people started showing up, they began playing popular hip-hop tunes, like Cyclone, One-Two Step, and others I can't remember because the Beer Lao's were starting to get to me. For the record, I beat Paul in our first two games, by two points and then by five points, ha!
Now tonight we just went out for a bite to eat on the main drag here in Vang Vieng. Very interesting to get a "happy menu," which is apparently quite common here in VV. The happy menu literally lists a bag of weed, opium tea, a ganja joint, and about 15 other similar choices for sale. You can see why Vang Vieng is a very popular stop-over for the backpacker crowd.
Finally tonight, I just wanna thank everything for continuing to check in. I know that my writing style is very detail-oriented; for those that enjoy it, cool, for those that don't like it, you can go to hell. As much as I'm very happy to be able to pass on our stories to everyone back home and around the world, I'll admit that as much as anything, my blog -- just like my previous handwritten journals -- is a way for me to remember things after they begin to slip into the past. You see, the thing is, I've had a very bad memory for experiences my entire life; I don't know why, but that's the way I am. So, more so than most other people, I really, really need photos and my own personal words and descriptions to eventually remind me of good times past. Believe it or not, if not for these things, I would forget all but the most striking experiences. And, selfishly, I'd like to relive these memories over and over and over again. So thank you very much, kind reader, for accepting me for who I am, and also for joining us for a good ride through SE Asia.
With that said, I wish you a very good night from Vang Vieng, Laos! Buenas noches! Boa noite! Bon soir! Good night!
I've got the runs and I've got to run
That was the title that I would've used if I had written an entry first thing this morning; it was too good not to use now. The title concisely describes how I began this Friday here in Laos. My ass was explosive, creating a hazmat situation in two separate toilets at Viradesa. And Paul and I once again left one place to go to another new one.
We left Luang Prabang on a scheduled 9am mini-bus that actually departed at about 9:15am, so I could unload in the main toilet at Viradesa guesthouse, while the group of six other travelers waited for me. The bus ride was a solid six hours, with two pitstops at about the one-third and two-thirds points. Because Paul and I were the last two to get onto the minibus we were stuck having to ride shotgun -- normally a good thing, but in this case not so much so. I sat in the middle of the front bench seat, right next to the driver, so that every time he shifted to third gear, he was jabbing me in my left thigh. Paul was squeezed up against the passenger door in order to make room for my legs, which necessarily had to face away from the stick-shift. It was a difficult six hours, with pins and needles and also cramping in our muscles. I was so tired from last night, though, that I was in and out of sleep for a good part of the ride.
When I was awake, there were many observations to be made. The road from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng is not particularly long, but it winds and twists and bends through some high mountain terrain, thus making the trip much longer than it would seem on paper. The scenery looked very much like it does in the Vietnam war movies: high, limestone mountains rising straight up out of the ground, interspersed by rice paddies and open fields. The road, once again, was quite stereotypically Third World: wooden shacks on small stilts built right next to the road; more little kids running around naked than you can count; cows, water buffalo, pigs, and even ducks with ducklings walking idly along the side of the road -- or in the case of some cows, in the middle of the road; the road itself so beat up and potholed in places that the driver drove just as much on the shoulders than on the actual road.
We finally pulled in to the new bus station on the outskirts of Vang Vieng at 4pm. From there, I somehow convinced Paul, along with a British couple: John and Jenny, to walk into town -- like authentic backpackers -- instead of hiring a tuk-tuk for the umpteenth time. The 3km walk into town wasn't too bad; I passed the time by talking with John. He told me that he and Jenny quit their jobs back in the UK to come backpacking for a solid 6 months; they'll keep going until the beginning of February.
Paul and I checked into Pan's Place right on the main strip in town. Our room is in a modest bamboo bungalow, with mattresses on the floor, and geckos running on the wall (I told Paul that they're our friends because they eat insects and save us 10% or more on car insurance). This place will be our first experience with a shared toilet/shower; Paul was a bit reluctant but I told him it would be a good way to meet other travelers. We both liked the fact that there's internet right here on the premises and a television room upstairs, fully stocked with tons of movies on dvd. So that's where we stand now.
Tomorrow we'll go tubing down the Nam Kong River; it should be an awesome experience, but I won't ruin the reader's surprise by telling you why this town is packed with backpackers and exactly why the tubing will be a kick-ass experience. You'll just have to check back, ya heard?
To be continued . . .
We left Luang Prabang on a scheduled 9am mini-bus that actually departed at about 9:15am, so I could unload in the main toilet at Viradesa guesthouse, while the group of six other travelers waited for me. The bus ride was a solid six hours, with two pitstops at about the one-third and two-thirds points. Because Paul and I were the last two to get onto the minibus we were stuck having to ride shotgun -- normally a good thing, but in this case not so much so. I sat in the middle of the front bench seat, right next to the driver, so that every time he shifted to third gear, he was jabbing me in my left thigh. Paul was squeezed up against the passenger door in order to make room for my legs, which necessarily had to face away from the stick-shift. It was a difficult six hours, with pins and needles and also cramping in our muscles. I was so tired from last night, though, that I was in and out of sleep for a good part of the ride.
When I was awake, there were many observations to be made. The road from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng is not particularly long, but it winds and twists and bends through some high mountain terrain, thus making the trip much longer than it would seem on paper. The scenery looked very much like it does in the Vietnam war movies: high, limestone mountains rising straight up out of the ground, interspersed by rice paddies and open fields. The road, once again, was quite stereotypically Third World: wooden shacks on small stilts built right next to the road; more little kids running around naked than you can count; cows, water buffalo, pigs, and even ducks with ducklings walking idly along the side of the road -- or in the case of some cows, in the middle of the road; the road itself so beat up and potholed in places that the driver drove just as much on the shoulders than on the actual road.
We finally pulled in to the new bus station on the outskirts of Vang Vieng at 4pm. From there, I somehow convinced Paul, along with a British couple: John and Jenny, to walk into town -- like authentic backpackers -- instead of hiring a tuk-tuk for the umpteenth time. The 3km walk into town wasn't too bad; I passed the time by talking with John. He told me that he and Jenny quit their jobs back in the UK to come backpacking for a solid 6 months; they'll keep going until the beginning of February.
Paul and I checked into Pan's Place right on the main strip in town. Our room is in a modest bamboo bungalow, with mattresses on the floor, and geckos running on the wall (I told Paul that they're our friends because they eat insects and save us 10% or more on car insurance). This place will be our first experience with a shared toilet/shower; Paul was a bit reluctant but I told him it would be a good way to meet other travelers. We both liked the fact that there's internet right here on the premises and a television room upstairs, fully stocked with tons of movies on dvd. So that's where we stand now.
Tomorrow we'll go tubing down the Nam Kong River; it should be an awesome experience, but I won't ruin the reader's surprise by telling you why this town is packed with backpackers and exactly why the tubing will be a kick-ass experience. You'll just have to check back, ya heard?
To be continued . . .
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Bad Moon Rising
Earlier tonight, while we were picking up the laundry (proud to say: first time on this trip) from another guesthouse down the lane from Viradesa, we saw the large, orange, full moon rising immediately to the left-hand side of the well-lit Buddhist temple at the top of Phou Si hill. It was surreal. That alone justified our decision to stay an extra night in Luang Prabang.
Tomorrow morning we leave at 9am on a mini-van to the village of Vang Vieng, located about 4 to 5 hours to the south. Just a few minutes ago, after we had a nice dinner -- at the Hive Bar -- of pizza and Pepsis (hey, every once in a while on a trip like this you gotta give your digestive system a break, especially after my sticky situation this morning), we popped our heads in the Lao Lao Beer Garden, just a few doors down. And whaddaya know? Who else was there but Nick and Josh, our fast-growing friends from the land down under. We found out that they're heading down to Vang Vieng on an 8am mini-van tomorrow. So we'll very likely have some more good times with those guys in the double V (not to be confused with the double-deuce and Spruce).
Well, I'm having some more rumblings originating in my intestinal area, not unlike the sounds that Jeff Daniels hears in the movie Dumb and Dumber. I think Vesuvius might be getting ready to destroy Pompeii, aka our toilet in room 12 of the Viradesa Guest House. I'll be thinking of all you guys back home while I'm doing it. Cheers!
Tomorrow morning we leave at 9am on a mini-van to the village of Vang Vieng, located about 4 to 5 hours to the south. Just a few minutes ago, after we had a nice dinner -- at the Hive Bar -- of pizza and Pepsis (hey, every once in a while on a trip like this you gotta give your digestive system a break, especially after my sticky situation this morning), we popped our heads in the Lao Lao Beer Garden, just a few doors down. And whaddaya know? Who else was there but Nick and Josh, our fast-growing friends from the land down under. We found out that they're heading down to Vang Vieng on an 8am mini-van tomorrow. So we'll very likely have some more good times with those guys in the double V (not to be confused with the double-deuce and Spruce).
Well, I'm having some more rumblings originating in my intestinal area, not unlike the sounds that Jeff Daniels hears in the movie Dumb and Dumber. I think Vesuvius might be getting ready to destroy Pompeii, aka our toilet in room 12 of the Viradesa Guest House. I'll be thinking of all you guys back home while I'm doing it. Cheers!
Oh shit!
Today got off to a shitty start, as you'll soon see. Paul and I slept in this morning after a really rockin' good time last night at the full-moon party (more on that below). Actually, although we both woke up at 10am, I stayed in bed to listen to some tunes on my iPod in order to ease into the day, while Paul went out to a local internet spot to do some emails. I took my time getting up, but eventually made my way out to meet him. From there, both of us feeling quite hungry at that time, probably about 11am, I suggested that we find a place to eat along the wide, brown, "mighty and mellow" Mekong River, on which we had not eaten since our first evening after checking into our guesthouse here in Luang Prabang. As a sidenote -- and in response to a beautiful reader's question -- we are staying at the Viradesa Guesthouse here in LP (not to be confused with Linkin Park). Back to the story, then: we went to a wooden table overlooking the Mekong; I ordered a crepe with honey and Paul ordered a full omelet with a baguette. As you can see, the legacy of French colonialism here continues to endure, most especially in the cuisine. Well, I'm just finishing up my crepe, when I feel an urge that many of us feel day in and day out: I discretely picked up one ass-cheek and let one rip, but instead of a toot it was a squirt. Oh shit! The look on my face immediately telegraphed to Paul what had just happened; I told him to pay the bill and I'd get him back later, I asked the waitress where the bathroom was, she said across the street, just wonderful I thought to myself. So I gingerly stood up and made my way, step by step, across the street, into the woman's own personal home, and went directly to the bathroom, where I took off my boxers, wiped down and left them there as souvenir. Of course I went back to Viradesa, where Paul had already returned, and I took a nice long shower (the water pressure and temperature has been as good here as anywhere else). I'll have to be a bit more deliberate when busting ass throughout the rest of this trip.
Yesterday evening, after we had gotten back from the waterfalls, we decided to follow a fellow traveler's (not that kind, at least I don't think) advice, and climb to the top of Phou Si hill, which is located on the center of the peninsula that comprises most of Luang Prabang. At the top of this tall hill there is a Buddhist temple with a golden spire that can be seen for miles around. We were told that watching the sunset from the top of Phou Si is priceless, as much as or more so than any Mastercard commercial. We found out first-hand that watching the sunset from Phou Si is beautiful, perhaps even borderline magical. The sun sets behind typical green Asian mountains -- by that I mean that they look like the ends of French baguettes sticking up out of the earth -- with the slow-moving Mekong down to our right-hand side, and all below you can see the village of Luang Prabang. This experience alone -- watching the sunset -- convinces one immediately why Luang Prabang is a UNESCO World Heritage site.
A funny little thing also happened just after the sun set. All of a sudden a guy with a heavy French accent starting asking everyone (and there were tourists packed in shoulder to shoulder) to move out of the way in order to do some filming. A couple guys with professional cameras and a guy with one of those boom microphones on a long pole were there too. Then this actor with a backpack comes running up the steep steps to the cement landing where all the tourists had been taking their photos of the sunset. A minute later, a few more actors, some a bit older, came up. Since I was standing right there, one of the French actresses asked me, in French, what my nationality was. I answered her directly: "Je sui americain." I'm really losing track of all the languages I've used at least once on this trip! When the filming was over, I asked the sound guy what the filming was for; he said it was for a French reality television show called "Peking Express." Seeing all of that proved to me once and for all that reality tv is nothing but a fabricated illusion.
After climbing down the multitudinous steps from Phou Si back down to the LP night market, Paul and I headed to dinner. It was a shame to see a group of several young tourists causing problems with the Laotian owners of the restaurant. At one point I heard a young tourist say loudly, "do you know how much money we've spent here all day?" The arrogance pissed me off; I mean, really, they probably spent a total of $10 for their entire meal for all of them, which they'd be lucky to get an appetizer for that price back home. That's the kind of cultural arrogance that really irritates me. As Paul said, those tourists probably think they're superior to the Laotians; really shitty approach to life. And unfortunately I know people like this back at home. When you peel away all the money and material possessions, these kinds of people are essentially really pathetic and insecure, if you ask me. That's my two cents; which can buy a nice drink here, ha!
The highlight of the day yesterday was our night. Earlier we had stopped off to get a cup of coffee at a little spot on the lane where our guesthouse is located. We ended up having a nice conversation with a young Laotian woman there, and she recommended that we go to the full-moon party at Wat That Luang, a Buddhist temple just outside of the main drag, but not too far from Viradesa. Paul and I had met a couple Swedish girls the night before while walking through the night market, and we ran into them by chance after climbing down from Phou Si and while walking to find a place for dinner. We told them about the full-moon party and asked them if they'd wanna come along; they said yes, so we met them later in the evening so we could all walk together to the party. We also mentioned the party to Nick and Josh, the Aussies, and they ended up meeting us there later on.
The full-moon party was such a fun time! As we walked there, we could hear the music from the main road, so we knew we were heading in the right direction. Once we got there, we realized it was a summer carnival type atmosphere: games were set up all around the outside of the temple, there was a tent under which there was a guy on a microphone and another guy on a keyboard blasting out all sorts of beats and music, there was plenty of plastic patio furniture for everyone to sit down, and there was beer aplenty. We walked through the carnival and realized quickly that we were the only non-Laotians there; this was true for the rest of the night, with only one exception that I observed. Finally we had come upon a truly authentic cultural experience that was not overrun by throngs of tourists taking photos! We went to the back of the grounds, where many Laotians were offering yellow flowers as a donation at the foot of the golden Buddhist shrine, then perambulating the outside of the temple. Back that way, too, there were games set up for the kids. Of course we got involved. One game was darts, which you had to throw toward balloons stuck in wooden cubby holes. For 1000 kip, you got 3 darts. I went first and got 2 out of 3, so I got a little coffee-flavored candy. All four of us took turns throwing the darts and we laughed a lot when someone threw a bad turn. While we were doing this, a group of Laotian kids came by and watched us. Later, when Paul won a carton of orange juice, he gave it to one of the kids, who looked so happy to get it. After tossing darts for a while, we walked back toward the front of the grounds and sat down to play a game of large dice that is just too complicated to explain right now; we'll have to show you the photos when we return. Needless to say, we were surrounded by tons of kids at this point and we kept giving away our "yellow cards" (which you use to play the game) to the children so they could take part in the game with us. We all had so much fun.
And then we ended the rest of the night as a full-moon party should be enjoyed: dancing under the full moon and drinking lots of Beer Lao. And still we were the only "white" people there! We did all of this back where the microphone and dance area had been set up. While Paul, me and the Swedish girls (Linda and Emma) were having fun dancing with all the Laotians, the Aussies showed up and joined us on the dancefloor. At one point we created a circle among us and the others that were there, and we took turns jumping into the middle and dancing like fools. Also, when what must've been a traditional Laotian song came on, and the Laotians lined up in two parallel circles, I got up to join in, and did my best to mimic the hand movements that they were making. The Laotians, particularly the girls, seemed to get a real kick out of that. And then later, we all joined in a Laotian line dance, kinda similar to the electric slide, though not as corny. All of us had so much fun that we danced there for a long, long while. But eventually the girls left because they had to get up early today to go on an organized tour that would take them elephant riding. And then not long after that, the four of us guys began the walk back into the village. We agreed unanimously that it was an excellent night that would not be forgotten.
So, to all my friends reading this, wherever you may be, I hope you're enjoying the stories, and Paul and I will do our best to keep the good times rolling, hopefully with some time here and there to share our good times on our respective blogs. Because we really like this town so much, we'll stay an extra night, then tomorrow morning we'll head out to our next destination: Vang Vieng. After my long shower, I now feel fresh and ready to stroll the streets of Luang Prabang!
Yesterday evening, after we had gotten back from the waterfalls, we decided to follow a fellow traveler's (not that kind, at least I don't think) advice, and climb to the top of Phou Si hill, which is located on the center of the peninsula that comprises most of Luang Prabang. At the top of this tall hill there is a Buddhist temple with a golden spire that can be seen for miles around. We were told that watching the sunset from the top of Phou Si is priceless, as much as or more so than any Mastercard commercial. We found out first-hand that watching the sunset from Phou Si is beautiful, perhaps even borderline magical. The sun sets behind typical green Asian mountains -- by that I mean that they look like the ends of French baguettes sticking up out of the earth -- with the slow-moving Mekong down to our right-hand side, and all below you can see the village of Luang Prabang. This experience alone -- watching the sunset -- convinces one immediately why Luang Prabang is a UNESCO World Heritage site.
A funny little thing also happened just after the sun set. All of a sudden a guy with a heavy French accent starting asking everyone (and there were tourists packed in shoulder to shoulder) to move out of the way in order to do some filming. A couple guys with professional cameras and a guy with one of those boom microphones on a long pole were there too. Then this actor with a backpack comes running up the steep steps to the cement landing where all the tourists had been taking their photos of the sunset. A minute later, a few more actors, some a bit older, came up. Since I was standing right there, one of the French actresses asked me, in French, what my nationality was. I answered her directly: "Je sui americain." I'm really losing track of all the languages I've used at least once on this trip! When the filming was over, I asked the sound guy what the filming was for; he said it was for a French reality television show called "Peking Express." Seeing all of that proved to me once and for all that reality tv is nothing but a fabricated illusion.
After climbing down the multitudinous steps from Phou Si back down to the LP night market, Paul and I headed to dinner. It was a shame to see a group of several young tourists causing problems with the Laotian owners of the restaurant. At one point I heard a young tourist say loudly, "do you know how much money we've spent here all day?" The arrogance pissed me off; I mean, really, they probably spent a total of $10 for their entire meal for all of them, which they'd be lucky to get an appetizer for that price back home. That's the kind of cultural arrogance that really irritates me. As Paul said, those tourists probably think they're superior to the Laotians; really shitty approach to life. And unfortunately I know people like this back at home. When you peel away all the money and material possessions, these kinds of people are essentially really pathetic and insecure, if you ask me. That's my two cents; which can buy a nice drink here, ha!
The highlight of the day yesterday was our night. Earlier we had stopped off to get a cup of coffee at a little spot on the lane where our guesthouse is located. We ended up having a nice conversation with a young Laotian woman there, and she recommended that we go to the full-moon party at Wat That Luang, a Buddhist temple just outside of the main drag, but not too far from Viradesa. Paul and I had met a couple Swedish girls the night before while walking through the night market, and we ran into them by chance after climbing down from Phou Si and while walking to find a place for dinner. We told them about the full-moon party and asked them if they'd wanna come along; they said yes, so we met them later in the evening so we could all walk together to the party. We also mentioned the party to Nick and Josh, the Aussies, and they ended up meeting us there later on.
The full-moon party was such a fun time! As we walked there, we could hear the music from the main road, so we knew we were heading in the right direction. Once we got there, we realized it was a summer carnival type atmosphere: games were set up all around the outside of the temple, there was a tent under which there was a guy on a microphone and another guy on a keyboard blasting out all sorts of beats and music, there was plenty of plastic patio furniture for everyone to sit down, and there was beer aplenty. We walked through the carnival and realized quickly that we were the only non-Laotians there; this was true for the rest of the night, with only one exception that I observed. Finally we had come upon a truly authentic cultural experience that was not overrun by throngs of tourists taking photos! We went to the back of the grounds, where many Laotians were offering yellow flowers as a donation at the foot of the golden Buddhist shrine, then perambulating the outside of the temple. Back that way, too, there were games set up for the kids. Of course we got involved. One game was darts, which you had to throw toward balloons stuck in wooden cubby holes. For 1000 kip, you got 3 darts. I went first and got 2 out of 3, so I got a little coffee-flavored candy. All four of us took turns throwing the darts and we laughed a lot when someone threw a bad turn. While we were doing this, a group of Laotian kids came by and watched us. Later, when Paul won a carton of orange juice, he gave it to one of the kids, who looked so happy to get it. After tossing darts for a while, we walked back toward the front of the grounds and sat down to play a game of large dice that is just too complicated to explain right now; we'll have to show you the photos when we return. Needless to say, we were surrounded by tons of kids at this point and we kept giving away our "yellow cards" (which you use to play the game) to the children so they could take part in the game with us. We all had so much fun.
And then we ended the rest of the night as a full-moon party should be enjoyed: dancing under the full moon and drinking lots of Beer Lao. And still we were the only "white" people there! We did all of this back where the microphone and dance area had been set up. While Paul, me and the Swedish girls (Linda and Emma) were having fun dancing with all the Laotians, the Aussies showed up and joined us on the dancefloor. At one point we created a circle among us and the others that were there, and we took turns jumping into the middle and dancing like fools. Also, when what must've been a traditional Laotian song came on, and the Laotians lined up in two parallel circles, I got up to join in, and did my best to mimic the hand movements that they were making. The Laotians, particularly the girls, seemed to get a real kick out of that. And then later, we all joined in a Laotian line dance, kinda similar to the electric slide, though not as corny. All of us had so much fun that we danced there for a long, long while. But eventually the girls left because they had to get up early today to go on an organized tour that would take them elephant riding. And then not long after that, the four of us guys began the walk back into the village. We agreed unanimously that it was an excellent night that would not be forgotten.
So, to all my friends reading this, wherever you may be, I hope you're enjoying the stories, and Paul and I will do our best to keep the good times rolling, hopefully with some time here and there to share our good times on our respective blogs. Because we really like this town so much, we'll stay an extra night, then tomorrow morning we'll head out to our next destination: Vang Vieng. After my long shower, I now feel fresh and ready to stroll the streets of Luang Prabang!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
"Waterfalls" by TLC
For those not up to their 90s pop music, the title refers to a song from that era in American music history. I'll have to post the video from Youtube retroactively upon my return home. But for now, hopefully I have you singing the song in your head while you read this entry.
The highlight of the day was going out to Kuang Si waterfalls, about 35km outside of Luang Prabang. We started our day by going to a small open-air restaurant on the main road where the night market takes place later at night (of course). We each ordered foe mu = traditional noodle soup with pork. And actually, on our way there we went to a roadside vendor to have a shake; I got a blend of banana and dragonfruit, into which was mixed milk, coconut milk, a light-colored water (which we assume was some kind of sweetener). The fruitshake and the soup really hit the spot for breakfast.
From there we continued on to the Lao Lao Beer Garden, which is where we hung out and played pool last night (winning our first game, but then letting the Beer Lao affect us too much for our second game, which we lost). We had to go back there to meet up with Nick and Josh, a couple of guys from Australia who've been traveling throughout southeast Asia for a while. We met them back at Lao Lao Beer Garden at 11:30am, so that we could pool our kips (the Laotian currency) to get a covered flat-bed pick-up truck to take us out to the waterfalls. The four of us bargained hard with a couple of guys, until we finally got this young, good-natured (possibly high on something) Laotian guy to take us out for 140,000 kip for the four of us. Did I say 140,000?!?! Yes, the exchange rate is about 8,600 kip to just 1 U.S. dollar; it wasn't easy switching gears from the baht-dollar calculation to the kip-dollar calculation, but we college-educated American boys can roll with the punches.
Kuang Si waterfalls are amazing. The water is the color turquoise. The water was chilly, as mountain water all over the world must be, but it was tolerable, especially once you jumped in. And jump in we did. Well, actually I was the first one to wade into the water to check the temperature and more so to check the depth of the water to see if it was safe for diving; it was. So then we each, the four of us, took turns jumping off of a large branch overhanging the water, probably a good 15 feet above the surface. It was exhilirating. And the backdrop was absolutely gorgeous: tropical grass growing among the rocks right near the ledge of the waterfall, bounded by a forest on both sides and behind. The sun was shining brightly and we were all very happy to be there.
I must say, before I finish this entry -- as we will get ready to go to a full-moon party at a local temple, replete with dancing, drinking and merry-making -- that the ride to and from the waterfalls was also memorable, for me because of its nostalgic qualities. The small wooden shacks lining the road, the narrow bridges either wooden or metallic over small creeks, the high green mountains rising in the not-too-far distance, the young children running barefoot or in flip-flops along the sides of the road, and the overall ambience of the whole scene was so reminiscent of so many other roads throughout other parts of the Third World -- I was especially reminded of remote areas of Costa Rica and Nicaragua. It made my heart feel warm. People all over the world really do have so much in common.
And with that, I leave you to enjoy your Wednesday back home as my Wednesday night is about to begin. Hasta la proxima, mis amigos!
The highlight of the day was going out to Kuang Si waterfalls, about 35km outside of Luang Prabang. We started our day by going to a small open-air restaurant on the main road where the night market takes place later at night (of course). We each ordered foe mu = traditional noodle soup with pork. And actually, on our way there we went to a roadside vendor to have a shake; I got a blend of banana and dragonfruit, into which was mixed milk, coconut milk, a light-colored water (which we assume was some kind of sweetener). The fruitshake and the soup really hit the spot for breakfast.
From there we continued on to the Lao Lao Beer Garden, which is where we hung out and played pool last night (winning our first game, but then letting the Beer Lao affect us too much for our second game, which we lost). We had to go back there to meet up with Nick and Josh, a couple of guys from Australia who've been traveling throughout southeast Asia for a while. We met them back at Lao Lao Beer Garden at 11:30am, so that we could pool our kips (the Laotian currency) to get a covered flat-bed pick-up truck to take us out to the waterfalls. The four of us bargained hard with a couple of guys, until we finally got this young, good-natured (possibly high on something) Laotian guy to take us out for 140,000 kip for the four of us. Did I say 140,000?!?! Yes, the exchange rate is about 8,600 kip to just 1 U.S. dollar; it wasn't easy switching gears from the baht-dollar calculation to the kip-dollar calculation, but we college-educated American boys can roll with the punches.
Kuang Si waterfalls are amazing. The water is the color turquoise. The water was chilly, as mountain water all over the world must be, but it was tolerable, especially once you jumped in. And jump in we did. Well, actually I was the first one to wade into the water to check the temperature and more so to check the depth of the water to see if it was safe for diving; it was. So then we each, the four of us, took turns jumping off of a large branch overhanging the water, probably a good 15 feet above the surface. It was exhilirating. And the backdrop was absolutely gorgeous: tropical grass growing among the rocks right near the ledge of the waterfall, bounded by a forest on both sides and behind. The sun was shining brightly and we were all very happy to be there.
I must say, before I finish this entry -- as we will get ready to go to a full-moon party at a local temple, replete with dancing, drinking and merry-making -- that the ride to and from the waterfalls was also memorable, for me because of its nostalgic qualities. The small wooden shacks lining the road, the narrow bridges either wooden or metallic over small creeks, the high green mountains rising in the not-too-far distance, the young children running barefoot or in flip-flops along the sides of the road, and the overall ambience of the whole scene was so reminiscent of so many other roads throughout other parts of the Third World -- I was especially reminded of remote areas of Costa Rica and Nicaragua. It made my heart feel warm. People all over the world really do have so much in common.
And with that, I leave you to enjoy your Wednesday back home as my Wednesday night is about to begin. Hasta la proxima, mis amigos!
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