A few things I'm not ready to forget yet...Asian edition

The look on In Tho's face when she rode up on her motorbike--reunion after 4 long years.

The feeling of Halong Bay on a misty morning.

Dodging motorbikes on the sidewalks of Phnom Penh, and watching the huge motorbike streams in Saigon.

Sitting in a small plastic chair, drinking bia hanoi, on a street corner in Hanoi's old quarter, watching the world go by.

The real majesty of Angkor Wat, and getting to sit in it as long as I wanted.

The approach to Phnom Rung--including having to hitch after my motorbike taxi broke down going up the mountain.

The train ride out to the Isan, where I ordered the train food--watching all the locals watching and laughing at me choke just a little bit on the spices.

Witthaya

Discovering the back streets of Bangkok's Chinatown...finding new corners of that city on my 5th and 6th time through it.

Beach walks on Koh Jum with Jeff Dietrich.

The relief I felt at having Bekah come to Bangkok.

Playing hackey at the covered bridge in Hoi An.

The true bizarreness that is Cao Dai, and especially its church.

Motorbiking outside Nha Trang, and being force-fed about a pound of homemade rice cakes by a few old, sweet Vietnamese grandmas, after the long hike to the waterfalls.

Nights spent with Witthaya, In Tho, and Khorp Dter.

Actually losing to Khorp Dter in checkers.  He's 6 years old.

Days teaching at Ban Mae Na School and being treated like a rock star.

Parnthaya, the 5th grader who I could make giggle with a glance....just as she had been the 2nd grader that I could make giggle with a glance last time I was there.

$5 dollar hourlong massages.

Intira's stuffing me with food and affection outside of the classroom, and being a Napoleon inside the classroom.

The generosity of my friends and family stateside who helped me raise all that money for the scholarships at Mae Na School.

Motorbiking the back roads near Chiang Dao and going up to the caves with Bekah.

Meat "balls" soup in Chiang Mai.

Sunsets and cheap booze and spines in my foot in Sihanoukville.

Saying goodbye to my Thai family, with the sincere promise of going back there soon enough.

About the rest of the trip...

Just a brief outline of events, sans the stories and introspection etc.

After Koh Jum, I went--by boat, bus, and train--up to Chiang Mai for a few days to get a few things organized before I saw my old host family in Mae Na. Bought a few English books for the young'uns, got a few dirt cheap Thai massages, patronized my favorite used book store, and generally got reacquainted with my favorite Asian city.

Spent the next week with my host family, teaching on Friday, Monday and Tuesday, and going through the logistics of re-endowing the scholarship for Mae Na School.

Took a train back down to Bangkok to pick up Bekah on March 5th. Spent the next 8 days with Bekah running around Bangkok, Sukothai, Chiang Mai, finishing up in Mae Na for a night (and another day at the school) before flying out of Chiang Mai. Bekah flew home from Bangkok the next morning, and I flew to Athens.

2 nights in Athens, then took a train down to the Peloponnese. Cruised around the peninsula for five days, visiting Nafplio, Sparta, Kalamata, Olympia, and probably a few other places that I didn't mean to go to but was forced to by the local bus system. Headed north Delphi, then to Kalambaka, where I spent my birthday hiking and hitchhiking around the Meteora. West from there to Ioannina for a night, then to Corfu. 3 cheap nights in a shack on the beach in Corfu to relax and reorganize and hike the island.

While I was in Corfu, Madison told me that he could meet in Budapest on April 6th, and that we could go down to Istanbul together. So I decided to delay going to Turkey a little bit (I'd originally planned on going east from Corfu through Macedonia and Bulgaria to Turkey), and head north toward Budapest.

Left Greece for Sarande, Albania on March 28th--little ferry takes you from Corfu Town. Two nights in Sarande to take in the town, the ruins at Butrint, and the Syri i Kalter before heading north to Tirana. Spent about 12 hours in Tirana before taking a bus to Shkodra, and then finally leaving Albania, arriving in Ulcinj, Montenegro. Slowly made my way up the coast from there. Stopped in Kotor for a night, Dubrovnik, Croatia for a day, and then Mostar, Bosnia for a night. Eventually reached Sarajevo, Bosnia where I settled in for 3 nights.

Caught the train to Budapest from Sarajevo (sort of, but that's another post), and met Madison the following night at the train station. 2 days in Budapest, then we took a train down to Timisoara, Romania. After an accidentally (but not unpleasantly) prolonged stay in Timisoara, we went to Brasov for a couple nights, before arriving in the Balkans' non-ethnic-cleansing-related corner of hell, Bucharest.

Left Bucharest quickly, then down to Veliko Tarnovo, Bulgaria for a night, and then the long overnight train to Istanbul. 4 days in Istanbul with Madison, from which he left to go back to his studies in Stuttgart. Next 4 days or so I spent with an American guy named Graham and a British student named Michael, going from Troy, to Ephesus, to the Pamukkale. After saying our goodbyes, I then went south to Olympos, then back up and east to the Cappadocia region. 3 days in Cappadocia, and then back to Istanbul.

Flew from Istanbul to Riga, Latvia on April 29th. Spent a few days in Riga and Sigulda, then went south to Vilnius, Lithuania, where I hung out with a fun group of American and Belarussian exchange students. After a short trip to Trakai, I headed south to Warsaw, Poland. 2 days in Warsaw, then east to Mezritch, then southwest to Krakow for a few nights. Took a train to Brno, Czech Republic to stay with a few friends for a night before heading to Prague to meet up with Bekah.

Prague for 3 nights, then to Vienna for another three. Kept going south, into Slovenia to visit Lake Bled for a few nights, then to Ljubljana. Took a train down to Split, Croatia and then a boat to Hvar Island for a few nights. Went back through Split, then up to Zagreb for a couple nights.

Flew from Zagreb to London on May 28th, where we stayed with Bekah's sister and brother-in-law. 3 nights in London, then a flight to Paris for 3 more. Then a last-minute flight to Barcelona for a few days, before heading on to Madrid. Bekah returned to London from Madrid (her dad was coming to London, and her sister and Britney Spears and Katy Perry concert tickets...I guess that's legit). I spent my last day in Spain in Toledo, before flying out of Madrid.

Landed in Marrakech, Morocco on June 9th. 2 nights in Marrakech, a night in Fes, and a few more in Chefchaouen in the mountains. Eventually took a bus from Chaouen to Casablanca, in order to fly home from Casa via Frankfurt. So there you have it. Miami and back to Miami in 5 months.

Koh Jum

Sometime in the beginning of February, I got an email from my mom letting me know that my neighbor from Plantation, FL would be hanging out in Koh Jum--a tiny island in the south of Thailand, not far from Phi-Phi--until the middle of March. Jeff Dietrich was one of those people that I did not idolize until after we were out of contact. He moved away from Plantation when I was 12, and I doubt I was mature enough to appreciate him until I got to college. I liked him ok when I was younger, but always thought he was sort of a weird guy. And he is, but now I like that about him.

So I took the overnight bus from Bangkok to Krabi and then took one of the ferries out to Koh Jum, and then a longtail boat to shore. In so many ways, he was the Jeff that I remembered. Still adventurous, still globe-trotting with his family, has Mowgli hair, dresses like an islander, and we still both knew how to climb fig trees (though he's lightyears ahead of me and most gibbons on that count).

First, the great parts of my visit.

--I could see the stars, and really enjoy them. For the first time since this summer, I got to lay down outside, feel my body against the ground, and just be. I got to center a little bit, and I needed it.

--Being outside with Jeff. Mainly, the talks with Jeff were what made the trip so amazing, but they were definitely enhanced by our being outside. He doesn't strike me as a guy that can be himself inside. Doesn't wear well on him. Climbing the fig tree, riding around the mountain on the motorbike, snorkeling, swimming in the ocean in the morning, walking the beach--that was how we could talk.

--When I talk to Jeff, I get the feeling like he's been here before. Ya know how it is when you get somewhere familiar after a really long or tough spell in the (emotional or physical) wilderness? That sense of knowing where you are, being able to guide yourself and anyone else that comes along? That's how Jeff is everywhere, with anyone, talking about anything. And he's not faking it. He doesn't need to. I don't know that I believe in reincarnation, but it just feels like he's been here before.

Now, for what made it uncomfortable. I will not get into the details of the who's and what's, partly because this is a semi-public blog. However, I will say this: the paradise felt fragile. The happiness, for a lot of the people on the island, was shallow, fake, and temporary. One of the couples on the island consisted of a woman who, being financed by her very wealthy father, came to the island to indulge in her alcoholism; and a married man who was much older than her, and had been putting off telling anything to his wife for a full year. Others--mean drunk bartender who had faked both a teaching and a bartending license, and went to Koh Jum because they cared about neither, and a British couple naive of the grunge carrying on around them, and considering purchasing one of the villas on the island. Even Jeff, as wonderful a guy as he is, had his own deep, difficult flaws. After 2 and a half days, I needed to get out of there. The waters are beautiful, the snorkeling is great, the karsts are breathtaking. And there is almost nobody on the island besides Thais. But you still can't really get away from it all.

Why traveling alone can be great

Before I go any further about what I've been up to, I wanted to reflect about why this trip is worthwhile. Sightseeing isn't an excuse for a 5 month trip. Besides, it gets boring pretty fast.

The raison d'etre for this trip is freedom. And I get soooo much of it. For one thing, I'm free to think about whatever I want, and for as long as I want. In the course of nearly 23 years of structured thinking, there's a lot that needs to escape. I can sit--and pretty much sit anywhere...in a tree, on a beach, my hostel, in a temple, a cave, who cares?--and just think for as long as I like about whatever I want to or need to. This sounds stupid, but wait a minute--remember that it's not nice to have your head up your ass in front of other people. You can't think seriously narcissistic thoughts--what kind of man do I want to be, was there hair on that knuckle two weeks ago, why do I act like that, where is that thought coming from--when you're around other people. That's called being self-centered. There is no such designation on a trip like this.

I can act like a total doof in public, and no one is going to call me on it. Yesterday I was dancing and singing on the ruins of the old city wall, totally visible to the hundreds of cars and motorbikes passing by on either side below me. I wasn't trespassing, so I was fine on that front. I'm not going to see any of those people again, and what would they say if I did? That I looked happy?

I can follow my body clock. Not just the nocturnal-diurnal clock, but the rhythms that I feel when I travel (and when I don't, for that matter). My travels have been mostly dictated by the clock in me that tells me when to get moving and when to stand still. It doesn't matter much where I am. Hue, the old imperial city in Vietnam, is probably a pretty neat place. Didn't care. I was there for 3 hours and knew I needed to catch the next bus--and there was nothing stopping me from going with that. When I'm stuck in one place--for a semester at school, or whatever--I get antsy. My body wants to get moving, and I'm almost never allowed to, or I don't let myself. Last night, when I was on the sleeper train from Chiang Mai to Bangkok, it felt so good to just move for 16 hours straight. I never sleep so good as on those trains, a nice little motion to rock me.

Vietnam, quickly

Overall, it wasn't my favorite place in the world, particularly once I said goodnight Saigon (which yes, I actually did say). 3 reasons:

1) It's really tough to see a lot of the really cool stuff without a tour. To get to the DMZ and a lot of the American War sites--yea, they call it the American War--you need a tour guide, or a whole ton of time and money. There isn't much in the way of accomodations near the sites, and they aren't much to see unless you know what happened at each pile of rubble and old armaments. I actually skipped this tour, mainly because I did not feel like being on a tour for an entire day. But there are similar problems in other places--Halong Bay requires either a tour or a private boat (and you guessed it, I left my private boat back in the States).

2) Everyone--everyone--tries to scam the foreigners. Which I'm fine with, if kept to a reasonable scope and scale. Here's where I draw my line: I wanted to buy a travel-sized can of shaving cream, maybe having 5-6 shaves in it. I had previously been relying on soap and cold water, or the $1 shaves you can get in a salon. The woman wanted to charge me $4 for this can, whose value was maybe 50 cents. It's an effing travel-sized can of shaving cream. Honestly people.

3) I only had 15 days to run through the country. Both because of visa concerns and the amount of stuff left to do in Thailand.

4) The "sleeper" buses. Wow. The beds are almost as wide as my body is, and maybe 4 and a half feet long.

A few highlights, anyway....

--Best decision: renting out a motorbike for the day to cruise the coastline near Nha Trang. Nha Trang is a westerner-infested beach town, and with good reason. The water is a gorgeous shade of light teal, and there's some great snorkeling in the South China Sea (which I, despite my sea urchin-phobia, took part in for a day). But that stuff gets tiresome pretty quickly, and I wanted to actually, ya know, see Vietnam while I was in Vietnam. I rode for about an hour and a half up and around the mountains and cliffs, through the fishing villages, and eventually to this little hiking and bouldering area that had a few nice waterfalls. I probably looked like a tomato--both from the heat of the day, and my sunburn from being on the snorkel boat the day before--and these two older Vietnamese women sort of forced me to sit with them in the shade for a little bit. They fed me (looong after I'd started refusing) some rice crackers that they made. One of them showed me a wicked bullet wound in her wrist from the war, and I just sat there for maybe 20-30 minutes letting her feed me and practice her English. Great day.

--Hoi An is a cool town, and I recommend a visit. Yea, so half the town is a series of tailor shops. So what? Get a suit made ($45, seriously) and enjoy yourself. But then get past that. Lots of cobblestone sidestreets to wander where the locals are friendly and the westerners are minimal. Exhibit A: In stead of taking a million pictures of the little covered bridge, I played hackey for a while on a side street nearby. And then one of the guys pointed me to a neat little pagoda that I never would've seen on my own. Also, there was a sort of Vietnamese version of a school play going on, maybe a kilometer from my guesthouse...kids maybe ages 3-10 dressed up Vietnamese traditional dance costumes, going through different dances for their parents and the community. No white people there, but I was totally welcomed in.

--Halong Bay. I complained about having to take tours, and I stand by that. Halong Bay, however, is the exception. The tours are awesome, and the Bay itself has earned its reputation for just breathtaking beauty. Plus, I took most of my meals (and my kayak in the bay) with these 2 really cute French gals...granted, they were 7 and 10 years old, and they were with their parents, and I was sort of a de facto free babysitter, but it was still pretty awesome haha.

--Hanoi's Old Quarter. Went to a water puppet show, walked around the lake for a little while, let a few Vietnamese college students practice their English with me. Also, hung out with an Aussie named Matt and had a few bia hoi's, Vietnamese draft beer that goes for maybe 30 cents a glass, and tastes like it should cost less. The set-up is awesome though. It's not a bar. They have these roadside places, usually on a corner, where you sit outside, watch the motorbikes and pedicabs stream by, take in the sunset, and have terrible but nearly-free beer.

Taken together, Vietnam is an alright place to go to, and it has its sites to see--but good luck shedding the tourist feel.

Bangkok on Valium

That was the description that an ex-pat gave me of Saigon (Ho Chi Minh City, officially, or if you're licensed by the government to give tourist information. Otherwise, Saigon), as we were riding on the bus from Cambodia. I think that's about right. There are still plenty of shops, markets, clubs, and traffic, but it's not as overwhelming as Bangkok. Crossing the street is difficult, but it's not a bloodsport.

My first two thoughts on entering Saigon:
1) "The biker gangs here must be super-competitive." For every car, there are probably 200 or more motorbikes. Vietnamese fashion allows for two kinds of hats: the conical, traditional farmer hat, and motorbike helmets.

2) "Who won the war again?" There are shops, neon lights, commerce, entrepreneurs everywhere--consumers, shoppers, and capitalism fill the streets of Saigon. Not exactly a socialist paradise.

A few other memorable experiences...
I went to the War Remnants Museum, which is the main museum in Saigon for the "American War." Very interesting to see the Vietnamese side of things, or at least the propagandized version of it. Think: pictures of LBJ where he's posed and shouting in a very Hitler-esque look. It did bother me a little bit, especially the particular arguments they used to demonize Americans and glorify themselves. They used two arguments that didn't work in concert at all. First, they claimed that the Americans were mercilessly and senselessly killing thousands of Vietnamese villagers for no other reason than barbarism. Second--and they make this claim more at the Cu Chi tunnels--they claimed that many of the Vietnamese villagers were fighting alongside and supporting the VC cause. So were Americans bombing these villages without reason, or were they overreacting to a set of awful circumstances that the the VC intentionally created?

Speaking of the Cu Chi tunnels, I took a tour of them. They're about an hour or so outside of Saigon, and they were used to sneak supplies through to various VC channels, and as a hideout for villagers. The size of the tunnels is really unbelievable--some of them were maybe up as tall as my ankle. The ones that we got down into (which I think were slightly enlarged for tourists) were just big enough so that if I squatted all the way to the ground, I could fit. And the air down there is unbearably hot and thick, even before the claustrophobia kicks in.

When I went through all these history-tourism sites, I definitely felt a range of emotions. I saw all of the pictures of the Agent Orange victims, and it's heartbreaking. The use of Agent Orange goes against everything I'm proud about as an American--human rights, decency in war, etc.--and there's no doubt that hurts. Seeing the propaganda posters--not being displayed as propaganda posters, but as historical record--that showed America as evil and our soldiers as barbaric made me angry. I know we deserve a lot of it. My Lai and napalm really did happen. Still made me mad. I don't mind America being criticized among Americans, or even among our enemies--it's when our dirty laundry is aired for the world to see that I get mad.

Naturally, after a few days of city-dwelling and browbeating, I'd had enough. Time for the beach...again haha.

Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Beach

For my first day and a half in Sihanoukville, I felt like the place was treading perilously on the boundary between heaven and hell. Beautiful waters, good sun, and cheap food. But the beach is maybe 20 feet from surf to concrete, the place is packed with Westerners all of their accoutrements i.e. beggars, drug dealers, scam artists, etc.

And besides that, I stepped on a sea urchin while out on a snorkel tour. The snorkel mask was broken (as were 2/3 of the masks), so I was trying to fix it, treading water, and I stepped on the sea urchin. The dive operator had forgotten his first aid kit on shore, so he didn't have a needle to get the spines out. So he takes a snorkel pipe and starts whacking at my foot for no less than 10 minutes...which would be plenty painful, even if I didn't have sea urchin spines in my foot. I figured he knew what he was doing--you know, lived on the beach his whole life, seen this kind of thing before--and of course he was totally clueless. Eventually, he gave in to the demands of a Swedish doctor on board and took me back to the mainland (the operator preferred riding around for another 7 hours on the boat and finishing the tour), where he made me pay for the tour and for a moto taxi to a clinic. After getting a shot for the pain and consulting with my insurance company, I found a better clinic and got the spines out. As I sit here writing this, 12 days later, the spine wounds are healed. The bruises from the operator still give me a little bit of a gimp.

So all of that was pretty bad. Then I realized I was in the best possible place to recuperate. That night, I went to a traditional apsara dance place, had a good meal, supported the former street kids putting on the show. Then I found a quiet bar right on the water, laid down on some pillows in the sand, drank my White Russian, and read my book. The next day, I took a moto down to a place called Otres Beach--it had all of the accomodations of the more crowded beaches, except no one was there. Laid down on a hammock, sipped my watermelon shake, had a baguette, and watched the waves. I stopped worrying. Sometimes life has to slap you a little bit for your own good.