Live From Korea

It’s been a long time since I last posted here - six months to the day I think – and I doubt very much that anyone even checks this thing anymore, so if you are here reading this now, you probably got an e-mail from me or Hilary. If not, well, count me impressed. (How did you get here, then?) Anyway, there’s really no reason for the long absence other than my own laziness… I thought maybe I’d say something like, I wanted to wait until I knew the country more so that I could more accurately explain our experience here, especially considering the length of time we’ll be here, but that would just be a lie. It was really only lethargy. I think I told Hilary ten times since we got here that I would write this. But enough already, chances are you didn’t visit our blog to read what you have so far.



There are so many things to be said about our stay so far, stories and impressions and whatnot, that it’s somewhat hard to pick a place to start from, so I’ll pick one at random.

This is a photo of the staff, including the people that we were replacing (the large bald man and the smaller hispanic woman).

Our first night in town, the headmaster of our school, MC, took us to a sashimi restaurant that specializes in tuna. Hilary and I are both big sushi and sashimi eaters, and were excited to try it here closer to the meal’s roots. Almost every restaurant in Korea serves a myriad of side dishes along with whatever you order, and the number of sides increases greatly when you go to a restaurant with a set menu. Tuna Village is one of the latter. Along with the large platter of raw tuna off all types came kimchi, salad, some sort of fried vegetables, some green spinach-like steamed leaf, some small octopus limbs in a nice sesame sauce still wriggling away and what appeared to be slivers of tongue also still wriggling. Hilary and I, both wanting to show MC that we were going to jump right in, proceeded to try one of everything. There really is no need to explain the taste of all of the things, as I’m sure anyone reading this is only wondering about the octopus and the tongue, so here it is: the octopus was great and the tongue wasn’t tongue at all and was actually disgusting – it had the consistency of cartilage and was stickier than snot, so it clung to the back of my throat from the entirety of the meal, no matter how much beer I drank to wash it away.

There, I’ve at least temporarily satisfied my desire to tell food stories.

I was Santa last year. Probably the worst ever, but maybe not. Next year it's Macy's for me.

Our jobs have been roughly the same since we got here, though our students have changed due to the Korean school year starting in March. In the mornings we have the youngsters. When we started out, Hilary had the really young ones while I had the kids a little older and with a little more English experience. That all ended for me in March. Hilary and I now share the young ones. We have 4-year-olds and 5-year-olds. It was extremely difficult for me at first, partly because I had a handful of kids that cried every time I entered the room. Hilary didn’t have the same problem. Korean kids spend much more time with their mothers than their fathers, so they are much more comfortable with a female teacher, also Hilary’s better with the little guys and girls than I am. Thankfully that has stopped. Actually, the kids are great and while it was very hard going early on, it has gotten much better, so much so that I really enjoy my morning classes (mainly because the kids are funny a lot of the time). Hilary and I share a favorite morning student. His name is Moonie, and he is wild and funny and cute. Hilary wants to take him home with us. I’m including some pictures of him and many other kids.

Maybe I should back up and explain about our school a little bit. We are teaching at an English academy, which means that the school teaches English and nothing else. We have children too young for standard school in the morning (from 10:30 to 2:30) and school agers from first grade through middle school and first year of high school in the evenings (from 3:00 to 7:30).

We have a book or a set of books for each class but have the freedom and necessity to supplement that with almost anything we see fit. The materials we have range from moderately interesting to narcolepsy-inducing. As a result, often I try to work in as much conversation and story telling as possible.

I’m running out of school things. Especially without Hilary here to remind me of things or anyone asking me any questions (if you have any questions, put them in the comments and when I update this next, which will be within the week, I will address them). I don’t want to write everything into this one post because it would be too massive a block of text, so I’m going to split it up some. I’ll try and cover more of our impressions of the country in the next entry. Hope everyone’s doing great wherever you are reading this from. We miss you all.

(Also, uncle Craig and aunt Mia came to visit. It was great to see some family and we had a really good time with them. So, if you two read this, thank you so much for coming to see us. It was great.)

(Also, I must apologize for how scattered this is. I tried to make it as coherent as possible. My next post should be better. And the lack of photos. It was loading really slowly. Another time.)

Back to Bangkok, Korea Prep and a Last Scare

Being back in Bangkok was nice, especially so because we were staying at Eileen and Kristina’s again. It cannot be overstated how much we appreciated having a place to use as a home base. It made our travel much easier than can be expressed here. We owe them a great measure of thanks.

Also, most of these pictures are from Mae Hong Son, at least the one of us and our bike and of the temple.

Anyway, we had a fair amount of minor tasks to complete in the two weeks we had before departing for Korea, so we got on them. After a few lazy days spent lounging around the house of course. Our first priority was to acquire our Korean visas. We were told that this might take upwards of a week, but in fact it did not. We went in on a Friday and returned on Monday. No interview required. Perhaps that was because our school here in Korea made most of the arrangements for us while we traveled. It was a bit of a test finding the place though, so we did our share. We called and got a general idea of the embassy’s location but when we arrived in that part of town, it was not immediately obvious and our directions consisted of the name of the subway station to get off at and that the building was opposite a large mall. In fact, the embassy was not across from the mall but rather down a street that was behind the building across from the mall. We walked all over and found nothing. In the end, we resorted to taking a taxi to find it, but by then it was noon and the embassy was closed for lunch. We had an hour and a half to wait. We walked back to the mall and got lunch.

Our other business was healthcare. Thailand has a major medical tourism industry as healthcare is dirt-cheap there. You couldn’t rent a car in the US for what you pay to get a dental check-up. Seriously, you pay more for a night in a Motel 6 than you do for a physical. So, we signed up to see the dentist and get checked out. Everything was pretty normal, except an odd encounter we had with a frantic French woman. We passed her talking to another westerner as we entered the hospital and she caught up with us in the magazine shop. Her story was this: Her and her husband had been somewhere on the coast in the south when they found themselves in a dingy, prostitute ridden town. They planned to spend the night and take the train back to Bangkok the next day. That night her husband went to get money from the ATM. As he was walking away, a pair on a motobike road past, the guy on the back grabbing her husbands bag which contained their passports, ATM cards, money, etc. Instinctively he grabbed the guy by the shoulder. Apparently he came flying off the bike and split his head open on the cement. Her husband then contacted the police who arrested him and charged him with assault. They demanded something like $3,000, but eventually she and her husband managed to get it down to $1,000, I think. Well, that wouldn’t be so much of a problem if the driver of the motobike hadn’t managed to keep the bag with their ID, cards, etc. She paid what she could up front and rushed back to Bangkok to get help from her embassy, but the French embassy apparently doesn’t give its citizens financial assistance in these types of situations because they do not support bribery, which is what this thing was. They found a hotel for her, began getting her new IDs issued and arranged for their flights home to be moved up, but that was about all they were prepared to do. She was frantically trying to get the money when we met her, afraid that the police would renege if she didn’t get the money right away. She was asking us for help. She needed something like 12,000 bhat. We gave her 1,000. It was about all we could afford. We felt terrible for her. What a terrifying position to be in. Later we learned that the Thai police hold westerners responsible in any legal situation. If you’re in a taxi and it gets into an accident, it’s your fault. If you’re being robbed, you defend your self and the thief is injured, it’s your fault, and on. The logic for this is that had you not been there, this thing wouldn’t have happened in the first place. Ass-backwards if you ask me. Generally I’m pretty accepting of cultural differences and appreciate that different countries have different mores and beliefs, but this one is just plain ridiculous, especially when you take into account how much the economy depends on tourism. Thailand has something like a million visitors a year. Bullshit. The country is beautiful, just avoid contact with the police at all costs. It’s better just to throw some cash at the person and leave. After that encounter, we were extremely careful.
On one of our days free of any errands to run we went to Lumphini Park where we saw comodo dragons swimming in the lake there and lounging along the banks. They are incredible. We saw one that had to be at least 6 feet long. It was great.

In the end, we said a sad goodbye to Eileen and Kristina and headed off to Korea, which is where we are now. The flight was easy and coming through customs was a breeze.


This is a Lady Bug in a plant of some sort.

Slice of Pai

So for the delay in writing this, raft of things have happened in the past few weeks and I’ve not felt up to it until now. Last I wrote we were taking the treacherously coiling road up to Pai from Chiang Mai.

According to our Lonely Planet, Pai is one of the last spots along the old hippy backpacker route through this region and we found that assessment to be pretty accurate – this is of note because the book’s accuracy has been less and less reliable throughout our trip. We arrived and found a dusty town with dirt roads choked with internet cafes, guided tour agencies, hip clothing shops and restaurants, a surprising number of which offering middle-eastern fair from baba ganouj to hummus and falafel. The town its self was populated with old ‘60s hangers-on and Thai men dressed and living as if it were still the summer of love, wearing bellbottom jeans and mesh tank-tops, long hair or dreadlocks flowing down their backs, stoned to the gills.

We headed toward Pai River and found a pleasant little bungalow, reasonably priced and on the water with indoor plumbing and a nice deck. We spent 3 nights there and didn’t do much in between them, just relaxed and explored town. We did take a daylong yoga class, my first, which we enjoyed but apparently was more advanced than most beginners’ classes. One of the draws for us was that the package included lunch and dinner, both of which were supposed to consist of Indian food cooked by a genuine Indian woman, this is a paraphrase of the flying that drew us there. In actuality the food turned out to be sub-par Thai-tourist fare. We were unimpressed. Mama, the name the teacher insisted we call her, was easy going enough and a decent enough teacher, but that didn’t make up for the disappointment in the food.

The rest of the time was divided between milling around, reading, shopping at over-priced bookstores, eating and checking e-mail (this is where we learned that our friend Annie was getting married to her boyfriend Tim – if you two read this, CONGRATULATIONS! We’re so happy for you.) The food was incredibly cheap and on our last night in town I had the best curry I ate all trip. It was yellow curry with eggplant. Delicious. (To all the food blog readers, I’m sorry about the lack of attention it has gotten. I’ll write more on it soon. Don’t worry, I haven’t stopped eating.)

We’d read that you can take a rafting trip on to the next town, Mae Hong Son, so we investigated and eventually signed up at one of the numerous tourism agencies. We left early in the morning and as it turned out, we had an even more nauseating drive ahead of us than the one in to Pai. The road was even more twisted and cutback riddled and this time we were riding on benches in the back of a pickup. I was thoroughly sick by the time we arrived at the drop. Only the mint gum I chewed furiously the entire time saved me from divulging the contents of my stomach all over the 5 other people we were riding with. For future reference to anyone who might be daring to take a similar route, an entire pack of gum is about right, no less than 5 pieces, but be sure to spread them out so that you take them at intervals and build up a tolerance for that much gum in your mouth at once.

In our group were a pair from England who’d been traveling for three years spending time working all along the way, a father and daughter combo from England (they had rented a car and drove themselves to the drop) and a Canadian couple that had just finished teaching English in Korea. Hilary took care of the questioning for me while I did battle with my inner ear.

Once at the river we got all suited up, life jackets, helmets and paddles, aumnd pushed off, the British father/daughter team in our boat. I immediately snapped my aluminum paddle. The paddle just peeled right off. Hilary, being the generous person she is, offered up her paddle and sat back to enjoy the ride until we reached the lunch stop where we could pick up another. The trip was billed as intermediate and supposedly had at least two class 4 rapids. The danger was heightened by our guide’s continuous attempts to high-side us sideways on any rocks he could find in the river, thus dumping one or another unlucky person. Mostly it was the father who was sent sprawling into the water or grappling with the edge of the boat to hang on. It was fun and in the end we all got it as we got a little too squirrely in the class 4 and flipped the boat. Hilary took a pretty good bump on the leg and I had the father come down on top of me, also I wrapped my ankle on a rock and had to ride out the rest of the rapid floating on my back. It mellowed out considerably after that and gently floated down river through a giant wildlife preserve spotting a pack of monkeys and several king fishers. All-in-all, it was a fun trip and we felt good at the end of the day. Plus we got to ask the Canadians lot more questions about living in Korea.

Mae Hong Son was an entirely different sort of town than Pai. It did not pander to tourists what so ever. In fact, we had a bit of trouble finding a guest house. It is a regular small town, the same as you might find in the U.S. There is of course a market, but it wasn’t any different from the rest. Near to the town are several Long Neck Karen villages. They are considered refugees from Burma though many of the villages they live in are pretty old. Hilary and I decided that we would rent a motobike and check out a village then look for the biggest waterfall in the area. We had a map we got from our guest house, but weren’t sure of our competency on the roads on our own. I drove and Hilary rode on the back with the map. She got us to both places successfully.

The Karen village was not at all what we’d hoped for. There were several on the map and we chose one of the smaller ones because we figured that was our best shot and seeing one that wasn’t thronged by tourists and constructed around the accompanying trade. It didn’t matter. We paid 500 bhat a piece for entrance – the money supposedly goes to supporting the villagers as they cannot work in Thailand due to their refugee status. The village was little more than several little stalls where villagers were selling postcards of Long Neck Karen (in one case a woman was selling postcards of herself), little trinkets and cheap art pieces. The understanding was that you’d buy an item in exchange for taking a picture. We did this once. We don’t mind contributing to a village, especially when it’s so little, but it just seemed tawdry in this manner.

The waterfall was beautiful.

In the end, we did something like 100kms on the bike that day. It was great. We even got the bike up to 80km/hr.

The next day we left for Mae Sariang, but when we pulled into town, we decided we were ready to get back to Bangkok, and the fastest way to do that was to go back to Chiang Mai and catch the train the next day. That is what we did.


More Pictures later.

Bangkok, Jobs and the North

When we got to back to Bangkok, our intentions were to stay overnight and get on up to Chiang Mai (a popular city in the north of Thailand) and the surrounding region for a couple of weeks, but as it turned out, we had potential job offers waiting in our e-mail inboxes and they would require some attention. For those of you who don’t know, which may be very few, we applied to teach English in Korea via Park English, a job placement organization. We had been waiting to hear from them for a while and had become somewhat antsy about it as our departure date was fast arriving. Before heading out on our travels proper we had purchased a pair of tickets to Korea that left on October 10th and here we were, little more than a month from flying and without jobs. So, we pushed a little and it paid off. The e-mail we received was a job posting for a pair of teachers at Edo Best English School which is located on the southern coast of Korea in Yeosu. We did a little research on the area and found it to be everything we were looking for. It is in the least developed region of Korea, is right on the coast and with a mere 300,000 people is smaller than most other cities. We e-mailed Park English right back, saying we loved the job and would like to move forward with it. The next step was a phone interview with the headmaster. That went swimmingly and what followed was a whirlwind of e-mails and phone calls between Park English, the headmaster and us. After a few hours, everything got worked out and we were e-mailed contracts which we signed and faxed right back. And we then had jobs. Relief. If you want details, comment and we’ll e-mail you them.
Sorry for the simple nuts and bolts beginning, but that’s pretty much how it went and I couldn’t find anything humorous to write in there. At least nothing that wouldn’t be a complete diversion. Besides, there’s nothing funny about job hunting and the particulars. This is serious business people.
Anyhow, having gotten that squared away, we boarded a night train for Chiang Mai and slept restlessly through the night because the air-con was on high and the lights were left on all night. It was cold. While we’re looking forward to the coldness that Korea will offer, being cold when you know it’s hot outside is a different thing entirely. It’s not nice. We don’t like it. It’s like when you order something and then it arrives and what the person next to you is eating looks better. Maybe.
It was hot when we got to Chiang Mai. Very hot. Made especially so because of the ice box we’d slept in over night. We were not impressed. The first few guest houses we stopped at were all booked up and so we took what we came next. The room looked a little dingy but beggars and all that stuff. We took it, brushing away a few hairs we found on the mattress and planning to move the next morning. We had the whole day ahead of us, so we set about making plans for the next day. Hilary wanted to take a cooking class and I had seen a mountain biking trip. So we signed up for separate things. I signed up for my biking trip at a guest house near to ours that we had over-looked and had vacancies. This would come in handy later that night. We spent the rest of the day exploring the city. It was nice enough, I suppose. Nothing all that remarkable if you ask me.
After dinner we headed home, got ready for bed and went to settling in. That’s when we found the band-aide. It was until then hidden underneath one of the pillows and it was used. Now, we can handle a few stray hairs, we can take a couple of roaches or ants, we can even deal with large reptiles living in the walls, but we draw the line at used band-aides in the bed. Call us prissy or pampered or what-have-you, but we’ve got our standards. Though we’d paid for the night, we said F this place. We’re out of here and headed over to the aforementioned guest house where I’d signed up for mountain biking. The next day went much better. I can’t say exactly what Hilary’s cooking class was like but I know she enjoyed it and learned to make green curry, som tam, sticky rice with mango, and something else I’m probably forgetting. As for myself, I had one of the best days of the whole trip. Hilary has had to hear about it several times since.
The trip started at around 9am. Now, in the brochure there were pictures of riders in heavy gear, chest protectors, shin guards, gloves, elbow pads and helmets. It struck me as ridiculous that we would be made to wear so much gear, but by the end I was thankful. When I signed up I was offered rides ranging from beginner to expert. I didn’t want to get myself in over my head, but at the same time, I didn’t want to find myself on a leisurely ride through the park. As luck would have it, out of the 6 signed up (3 women, 3 men) there was an Aussie in the group who was in a similar situation. We were all taken to the top of a nearby mountain, outfitted with all the heavy duty gear and told to ride around a bit to get comfortable. Once we were set, the guides badgered the third guy into trying the advanced track we were starting on. At the start the trails split for a ways and then rejoin so that anyone who can’t handle the advanced trail can take it easy. The third guy could not handle it. Not five minutes in I saw him go flying headfirst over the handlebars. He proceeded to do that 5 more times before we met up with the women and he begged off. To be fair, the ride was damned dangerous. We spent a great deal of time riding the breaks down near shear, mud covered, root riddled trail. I was sent off my bike several times as was the Aussie and even our guide. It was great. I was at the point where I was pretty scared, but not so much that it wasn’t enjoyable. Meanwhile, the trail was just about all my technical skills could and some times more. I was filthy and exhausted by the end of the day, and feeling like I’d accomplished something.
The next day we took a minivan up the most twisted road I’ve ever been on to Pai, a small hippy town in the mountains.

Laos Continued

Laos is one of the most beautiful countries we were able to visit and Vang Vieng was probably the most stunning place we stayed. The surrounding landscape looks like someone took the islands from Halong Bay, giant limestone configurations that rise from the earth almost perpendicularly, and transplanted them. In Laos, these very same formations rise out of vast green rice paddies. Spectacular. Just as in Vietnam, these rocks are riddled with holes, some of which are deep enough to be called caves even. We (the Germans, Micha and Mieke and ourselves) had heard all about the different caves to be seen. Some very tall tales none of which we were entirely sure of. So, on our last full day in town, we decided to head for the one rumored to be the biggest, best cave of all, 5 km down a muddy road from Maylyn (where we were staying) and away from town. We had been told there was not only a cave there but a lagoon to swim in. We were excited.

Being four strapping you and healthy adventure-happy travelers, we decided that we should walk it – we’re also frugal currently. It was hot that day my friends. H-O-T hot. Mirage appearance hot. The kind of hot that threatens to dry your eyeballs right out of their sockets. After the first km, my skin was like those perforated hoses that are used for watering. I mean I was sweating like a sweet tooth at a dentist’s office. It took the better part of a couple of hours to get there and when we did… well… there was no lagoon to be found, only a narrow river, more a creek really. There was a small rope swing and shaded bamboo platforms to rest on, but no lagoon.

We had been warned that the trail up to the mouth of the cave would be treacherous and that the flip-flops Hilary and I were wearing probably wouldn’t be sufficient. We dismissed these warnings at the time but found ourselves scrabbling up a near vertical path, more rock climbing than hiking. We did make it. The mouth of the cave was relatively small but once inside, the ceiling rose too maybe 50ft and the room spread out to the size of a respectable cafeteria or ballroom. Just inside, the trail led down to the center of the chamber and on to others. This we learned after. Citing our weakly shod feet and lack of a flashlight, we declined to follow Micha and Mieke into the cave. Instead we navigated our way back down and took a dip.

When Micha and Mieke got back, we decided collectively that the only way to survive our return to Maylyn was to arrange a ride somehow. There had been a tractor and trailer bed thing parked near where we’d paid to see the cave and we figured to hire it, maybe. In actuality, it looked more like a rotor tiller with extended handlebars, but it did a pretty good clip and for a modest price (50,000 kip = $5). We got home safely and without further renal damage. The next day we left for Luang Prabang.

The ride wasn’t so bad despite the incredible amount of curves in the road. I managed to keep my lunch which is always an accomplishment. Once in town, we found a nice guest house right on the water – The Nam Khan, a tributary of the Mekong River. As luck would have it, we were just in time for the start of a three-day longboat racing festival. The festival is called Bun Awk Phansa which means End of the Rains Retreat according to my Lonely Planet – don’t quote me. Hilary and I took a couple in. The races were held on the Mekong. On the first day, each boat held maybe 25 people, but by the last day that number swelled to over 50. It was all very exciting and all the restaurants, permanent and otherwise, were packed with beer swilling Laotians cheering their teams on and singing karaoke. Meanwhile, all the streets near the river were packed with booths selling plastic toys, especially guns, the rebel fighter’s favorite the Kalashnikov to be exact, fake wooden handle and all. There were other cheap trinkets, some clothing and pirate DVDs and CDs too.

Also in town was Laos’ most popular pop rock group (not the monks pictured here)whose name eludes me presently. We learned this from a couple we’d met tubing in Vang Vieng and run into again in Luang Prabang. I don’t recall their names either and Hilary’s not here to ask. I do remember that they were from Portland, were on their honeymoon and we had a lot in common. We forgot to ask for their e-mail addresses before we left. Anyway, the concert was free and out doors, so we headed over en masse. As it turned out, it was sponsored by Carlsberg Brewing which owns Beer Laos, so there was cheap beer to be had along with county fair-like activities – balloon popping with darts for prizes and the such, and a couple of those giant inflatable castles complete with slides inside them. We tried to gain access but were denied. I guys we didn’t fit the height requirements. Isn’t that funny. At one point you’re too small to go on the rides and then later you become too big. We didn’t try the carousel. The concert was okay if you’re into stuff that sounds like Fall Out Boy. Personally I don’t but it was still interesting, at least until it started raining and everyone started rushing for the road.

The next morning Hilary got up very early, before 6am, and went out to greet the monks as they made their daily rounds. Throughout this region, Buddhist monks go out early in the morning to collect donations. The typical gifts change from country to country but rarely consist of money. Here it was rice and these rice-banana-coconut milk fritters steamed in banana leaves. They were delicious. After she returned and dragged me out of bed we left for one of the several different sets of waterfalls. We headed for the largest one. Again, the name is missing from the book and my brain, but it was incredible. Near the entrance is a bear rescue shelter where they have several Asian Black Bears. I didn’t take a picture so imagine a black bear wearing a gigantic fur around its neck, like a balding man’s afro.
(Here’s a link: http://www.wildlife1.org/cms/images/stories/endangered/bears/p-16.jpg)
They also had a tiger. The waterfall its self was a ways up an increasingly washed out trail. It had been raining recently and so the river was gorged. Finally we reached the base of the falls. Micha, Mieke and I opted to take the trail to the top, getting extremely soaked on the way. When we reached it, we found we had 2 choices on our return: either go back the way we came or walk along the very rim of the falls hoping that the wooden rail holds. I’ve never been one for returning the way I came and I suspect Micha and Mieke don’t like it either, so we did it. It wasn’t as dangerous as it sounds because the footing was pretty good and underneath the water was a pretty decent sized ridge to brace your feet against. The way back down on the other side was much less dangerous. The waterfall was spectacular. I think it was the largest we’ve seen. We opted for going back to town instead of on to the next waterfall with Micha and Mieke. I’d had just about enough of riding around in tuktuks and had been slightly carsick on the ride.

There’s not much special to mention about the rest of our time there. We did not visit any of the temples or wats because, well, we’ve seen enough to last us a while. Not to sound ungrateful. We flew out early in the morning and were back in Bangkok before we knew it. It would only be a brief stay, but important.

These are clouds.

Laos, Not Lousy

Vientiane is the capitol of Laos and is home to 201,000 people, at least if our Lonely Planet guide book is to be believed – it has failed us on occasion. The number of residence is disputable, but there is no doubt that the city is the capitol and the most inhabited. We arrived mid day and went along with the German couple to find a guest house – this would soon become a trend and I doubt we got our guide book out once while in Laos. We ended up finding a nice enough place that was cheap and close to the center of town, not that we planned on staying in town long. Really Vientiane was more a stop-over on our way to Vang Vieng for us, more so than a destination. There is however a fare amount of turbulent history there apparently. You wouldn’t know it from being there unless you went to a museum maybe. According to the guide, the city has been ruffed up by the Vietnamese, Burmese, Siamese, Khmer, and French, all in succession. What’s more, it appears the city was once a festering “den of vice” but the only sign we saw of this was the Beer Laos which is actually made by Carlsberg Brewing. So it goes.
We did happen to luck upon the riverside night eating area. It wasn’t exactly a market or cafeteria, but it was a distinct gathering of street food peddlers verging on restaurants. The food was pretty good, but maybe that’s just the Beer Laos clogging my memory. I hadn’t had too much drink, but enough so that food flavors were enhanced. I stand by my tongue, though. It was good.
On our one full day in Vientaine we ventured out to Pha That Luang, a normally gleaming golden temple that doubles as a symbol of Buddhism and Lao independence. The sun was stuck behind clouds when we were there, so there wasn’t much radiance, though I’ll admit it had a subtle glow. It supposedly houses a piece of the Buddha’s breastbone. We didn’t see it. I think it’s actually entombed, and as luck would have it, we’d left our hammer and chisel at the guest house. Next time. Also, out front sits a statue of an ancient ruler who looks quite friendly despite the sword laid across his legs, handle in hand.
The next day we hightailed it for Vang Vieng and the famous rope swing tubing. Let me explain. After we finished the Peace Corps, Hilary and I headed directly for home while our friend Jeff gallivanted off to travel around Southeast Asia at length. This tubing thing was one of the many highlights, and the one that stuck closest in my mind. You see, Vang Vieng hugs the Nam Song and for a pittance you can rent an inner tube and get driven 5km up river to then float back to town. All along the river are bar/restaurant/snack shacks, each with some sort of rope swing rigged up. All you have to do to use them is buy something, usually a beer. Generally I like jumping off stuff or swing off stuff into water and when Jeff told me of this arrangement, it was immediately a priority.
Vang Vieng its self is rather small and heavily crowded with backpacker-type restaurants and bars, all playing DVDs of “Friends.” The Germans picked a place across the river that sounded great – nice bungalows right on the water for a very agreeable price. As it turned out, the place, Maylyn was more than we could’ve expected. The bungalows were beautiful one room affairs with decks made for relaxation, there was a nice little restaurant offering very good food and the patron, Joe, was a wonderful host, instantly making us feel at home. I could go on about Joe at length, but it is more than sufficient to say that I enjoyed his sense of humor immensely and found him to be very insightful. I would’ve liked to stay much longer if for no other reason than to continue the conversations we had in the evenings after dinner. He’s made a greater impression on me than any other person I’ve met on this trip. (Joe, if you read this, I hope you don’t find it too fawning. At least it isn’t a backpacker’s manifesto.) Maylyn is easily the place we’ve felt most comfortable, other than Kristina and Eileen’s, and I would highly recommend staying there.
On our first full day, it was slightly grey and drizzly, but I managed to drag the Germans out to tube – Hilary chose to stay behind and read. (Enough of this “the Germans” stuff, it really isn’t fair to them to continue to refer to them only as that. They’re people goddamn it! There names are Micha and Mieke.) As it turned out, it was very nice on the river as there were very few others, though we could not go on many of the rope swings as the river was too high.
I got a little scraped up at the first stop. The way it goes is this: you float along and when you see a place you want to stop at, you feverishly paddle your way over and when you get close enough someone throws either a smaller inner tube or a shaft of bamboo to you, both of each are attached to a rope which they use to pull you in. I was quite impressed by the accuracy with which many of these guys threw the tube. They’d ring you from as far as 20 yards out, no problem. Unfortunately, as the river was high, so was it swift. So, when I attempted to pull myself in via the bamboo pole that had been extended to me, I ended up pulling myself right out of my tube and cling to it desperately with one hand and cling to the bamboo equally desperately with the other. It worked out in the end, but not without a minor scrape or two. As dangerous as that may sound, there was an even greater danger awaiting us further on.
At the first place we stopped we met a very boisterous Italian. It was only 11 a.m. and already he was excessively drunk. This he would explain to us when he got particularly rambunctious after attempting to prod everyone there to jump from the rope swing platform. He tried to take Micha’s beer, intending to hold it for him while he jumped I presume, but Micha had no intention of jumping and told the guy so. This is when he reveled to us that he was well drunk because he only had 2 weeks of vacation and needed to make the most of it. We liked him, Micha included. He sounded exactly like Borat.
After an hour of jumping, riding the zip line and playing volleyball, we headed on. The next place is only worth mention for this one thing: I tried to do a back flip off the swing and as you might expect, I did a massive back flop instead. It could’ve been worse. I could’ve landed on some of the giant chunks of bamboo and lumber that were floating down the river dislodged by the excessive amount of recent rain.
By the time we reached the bottom, we’d spent all but 3,000 kip, which was 1,000 kip short of the fee for crossing the bridge that would take us back to our bungalows. Somehow I convinced Micha and Mieke that we should simply swim it, a feet that appeared easy enough until we got into the water. At one point, about midway out into the river, I was fairly certain that I would be washed down river and may just end up toppling over the dam a few miles further on. This obviously didn’t happen, otherwise I’d be dictating this from a hospital bed rather than typing it here in Bangkok. Yeah for survival.
That night we ate barbequed fish and some other stuff at Maylyn. It was fantastic.
The next day, we all headed out to tube. Over night, the river dropped at least 2 feet and many more rope swings were operational. The place with the zip line we’d stopped at the pervious day now was able to offer the use of its rope swing. It dipped terrifyingly close to the water, but with my knees tucked up, I managed to make it. More importantly, Hilary completely surprised me by coolly climbing to the top of the platform, watching me jump to show her how safe it was and then doing the zip line. She was a champion. She was to surprise me even further at the next stop. There she again scaled the platform, this one being a little higher and only offering a rope swing. At first she stood back from the edge, holding onto the railing, nervously letting people pass her. Gradually she scooted closer until she was there holding onto the rope swing. Down on the deck of the bar/restaurant/snack shack we got a rousing chant going - “HILARY! HILARY! HILARY!” – and she did it, calmly letting go at the peak and pinching her nose to avoid getting water up it. It was beautiful. Yet another fear concurred.

Long Overdue

So, it has been quite a while since I last wrote, but in order to avoid as long an entry as previous occasions have warranted, I am going to break the last 3 weeks up into 3 entries. Sorry for the delay.

Sapa had been our home for something like 10 days when last I wrote. On our last day in town, we hiked a few miles up one of the roads in town and visited a couple hill tribe villages on the way. It was somewhat clear for the first time since we’d been there and the mountains rose a higher than I had expected when I’d only seen hints of them behind the constant clouds that shrouded them. Also, I took some sniper photos of people in town. Usually when you ask someone to take their picture, something which I normally do and would heartily recommend all visitors do, you get a kind of canned image, a posed picture in which surprisingly frequently you subject is flashing the peace sign. I wanted to get a couple natural shots of people just being people, doing their daily thing, whatever it may be. So, I sat on the balcony at the restaurant where the Vietnamese man had abused me at chess so ruthlessly and snapped pictures of people, unbeknownst to them.

When we finally left, we were ready. Unfortunately, our room must have been in close proximity to a slaughter house of some sort because 7 of the 10 nights spent there were interrupted by the blood stopping howls of pigs being butchered (only one on each occasion). There is no worse way to wake up than to the feverish screams and final death rattles of an animal being killed, not even waking to a rat caught in a trap flopping about your house. As a result, we were generally nervous when going to bed. So, we looked forward to uninterrupted nights of sleep starting on our night train back to Hanoi.

When we got back to Hanoi, we had a decision to make. We knew we were heading to Laos next, but where and how were as yet only speculative. Our original plan had been to cross at the newly opened border crossing in Tay Trang because we supposedly could reach it from Sapa, but as our visa was quickly running out (only 2 days left when we got to Hanoi) and we were unsure of whether or not the crossing was really open or just hear-say, we had returned to Hanoi. Our desire was to take a bus or train to Luang Prabang which is in the middle of Laos, and then follow the main road there down through Vang Vieng, on to Vientiane, right near the Thai border, and from there take a night train back to Bangkok. However, we were to learn that buses to Luang Prabang were much more expensive and took almost 8 hours longer than the ones to Vientiane, strange considering that Hanoi is much closer to Luang Prabang. We had to adjust. Our plan became the one we executed, which is this: we took the bus to Vientiane, took buses north and then flew to Bangkok. The flight was partly inspired by our desperation to rid ourselves of some of our baggage. We had started out from Bangkok with only daypacks, but had somehow purchased so much stuff that we now required 4 daypacks and a large plastic bag/valise. We would’ve liked to take the slow boat from Luang Prabang to Chiang Rai, in the north of Thailand, but the bags were becoming unbearable. It would’ve been much better had we taken our travel packs instead, but you only learn these things after it is too late I suppose.

We have had many homes on our journey - I would define anything that we spent a night on as a home. We have slept on planes, boats, trains and, far too frequently for my liking, buses. Our home for the 22 hour ordeal from Hanoi to Vientiane was neither lavish nor decrepit, and though we boarded with much trepidation, it served it purpose well enough. There were 2 unfortunate things about it. First, the wanton depraved inconsiderate derelict bastard sitting across from Hilary and I insisted on trying to sneak smokes throughout the night despite the bus drivers repeated announcements that there was to be no such behavior on the bus. Second, the bus, having left at 6 o’clock in the evening, arrived at the border at 3 a.m., a full 4 hours before the border opened. The only plausible explanation I can conceive of is that the majority of Vietnamese, lacking air-con, enjoy sleeping on buses. Certainly most are not tall, so perhaps the bus seats are more comfortable than the way I experience them. I don’t know. I don’t speak Vietnamese, so I could not ask anyone what the hell we were doing there 4 hours early when we could just as easily left Hanoi 4 hours later. I’m sure there’s some logic to it somewhere. Our early arrival did prove useful in spite of the lost sleep. Hilary and I met a German couple equally disgruntled by the early arrival and also traveling the same route as us. We ended up spending the next few weeks traveling with them. They’re great friends. I believe you make friends faster and form tighter bonds with people quicker when you meet them traveling. Long-term travel is fairly intense and thus your feelings are a little rawer, you relate to people a little more openly and without concern. I think that’s the reason you form friendships faster.

Anyhow, the border was easy enough, though we had a bit of a scare when we learned that Vietnamese money was not to leave the country. You see, the previous day in Hanoi we had stopped at a bank to take out 200,000 dong (about $12.50 usd) to last us until Laos. Hanoi has cheap black market DVDs for about $1 usd, and we wished to purchase a couple more (we had already gotten several). Several shops offered the entire run of Scrubs, all 6 seasons for less than $10. We fancied this a wise acquisition. Well, somehow Hilary became confused at the ATM and before we knew it, we were the proud owners of 2,000,000 dong. Much more than we wanted. We attempted a spending spree but things were just too damn cheap. The exchange rate back to usd was too bad to even consider, so we planned on trying to use it in Laos. Also, it was Sunday so no banks were open. So, there we were at the border with a lot more dong than one would want to simply give away. Thankfully there was a money exchange in the Vietnamese crossing building. We changed the dong to kip at who knows what rate and headed on.


This a picture of a butterfly.