February 2007

Photos still to come. I have the MAP page working a little bit. Arrived in Sangkhlaburi last night. I’m starting to get the sensation of being very far away–this is the end of the road, the last town on a highway before the border crossing into Burma. It actually seems more Burmese than Thai, and there are Karen and Mon villagers all around. The location is beautiful, though there’s nothing to the town–a tiny central intersection with a few shops and an open-air market. English is hardly spoken. On the way to the Internet cafe here, I stopped for lunch at the market. The women working there were wearing the traditional Burmese face paint–a ghostly, pale yellow coloring–and the longyi traditional skirt. I ordered by pointing at what someone else was eating, which I couldn’t even see. It turned out to be a Chinese-style noodle soup with pork and fish balls. As I was eating it, I thought to myself: “This is the greatest noodle soup I have ever had.” Was it? I don’t know, but traveling does that to you. Last night at my guest house I had an amazing Burmese salad of nuts, beans, chilies, and fermented tea leaves. I spent most of last night talking with a fellow guest at the Burmese Inn, a 31 year-old dentist who left his practice in Ottawa and started doing dental work in the Arctic for part of the year and traveling the other part. He is another of the many people I’ve met already who have just completely jumped off the grid. It’s fascinating. The view from my 200 baht bungalow was ridiculous this morning: a lake surrounded by hills and crossed by the longest wooden bridge in Thailand. On the itinerary for Sanghklaburi: I’m going to take a boat trip on the lake and see a submerged temple. And I’d like to visit a Mon village–they’re a stateless people who have been relentlessly persecuted by the Burmese government.

On my second day in Kanchanaburi, I pedaled over to the River Kwai bridge, which was destroyed in World War II (somebody should totally make a movie about this) and rebuilt afterwards. The bridge itself is unimpressive, although you can see artillery damage on some of the supports. It’s a simple curved-span crossing made of iron that was part of the Death Railway built by POWs and Asian laborers to connect Burma and Thailand. Disease, overwork, and malnutrition ended up killing over 13,000 allied soldiers and an estimated 100,000 laborers conscripted from Asia.

Read the rest of this entry »

[I haven’t been able to upload photos at the Internet shop here in Sangkhlaburi–there is no CD drive I can access and they won’t let me plug my laptop in (this after the employee told me I could, and I went a mile back to my guesthouse to pick it up. The boss then came in and overruled the decision, saying “Virus. Virus.”) So, photoless posting for now, but I’ll get pics up as soon as I can. Also, the machine I am typing on is obscenely slow and makes me want to weep.]

Kanchanaburi turned out to be a worthwhile first step from Bangkok. I had originally intended to go south, but wasn’t feeling the call of the beach or the island life just yet. I think part of the reason for that is because I’m traveling alone (more thoughts on this in an upcoming post). I can’t imagine trying to do this trip any other way, but there are certain things–like going to a beach–that don’t have quite the same allure when you’re by yourself. It kind of feels like taking a trip to Hawaii alone. Read the rest of this entry »

I took a 2 hour bus ride northwest from Bangkok to Kanchanaburi. Kanchanaburi Central Bangkok slowly gave way to auto dealerships and low buildings of crumbling mortar and cane fields and coconut trees, and somewhere on the way I passed through the ache of leaving a place and began to look forward to where I was going next.

Now I’m in Kanchanaburi, on the River Kwai–literally. My room is a floating bungalow at the River Guest House. I haven’t done much today but swing in a hammock and buy mosquito repellent and wash some clothes in a sink and hang them outside to dry (for some reason, the sun drying my socks is incredibly satisfying.) Tomorrow, I’m off to see the famous bridge and go to a war museum and visit the Tiger Temple, where monks keep rescued tigers.

PS Those high-pitched tk-tk-tk-tk sounds? Those aren’t birds. They’re lizards (geckos?) and they’re chasing each other and fighting on the outside wall of my bungalow. I used to find lizards cute, but this is disturbing me.

You were nighttime and smoke and the sound of motorcycle engines and the boatman’s whistle. You were the orange of monks’ robes and the black-and-white of school uniforms. You were exhaust and perfume. You were stray dogs and child beggars and pushing crowds. You were unbelievably kind and gracious and laughed all the time and tried to hide your sadness. People hate you and they can’t leave you and maybe sometimes they even love you but they don’t forget you.

I was waiting to see a movie at the luxe Siam Paragon shopping center and somehow wandered into a press conference and performance by Tata Young. I had no idea who she was or what exactly was going on. I just followed the sound and the lights, and I think everyone assumed I was another music journalist. I stood around drinking a free soda while she answered some questions in Thai and then performed a couple of songs. I had to ask a magazine writer who she was, and he informed me that she was only Thailand’s biggest pop star. I also learned that the point of the press conference was to announce that she’s planning to break into the US market–so there you have it, first-hand reportage from me to you. I’m sad I wasn’t carrying my camera. By the way, her current hit single is called “El Nin-YO!”

The film I saw was King Naresuan. It’s the biggest blockbuster in Thai history, the first part of a nine-hour trilogy about the 16th century king who liberated Siam from Burmese control. I wouldn’t recommend rushing out and trying to find it, although there were some fairly spectacular battle sequences and lavish sets and costumes. What it did offer for me, mainly, was insight into the Thai national identity. For one thing, I see the reverence for their king a little more. Bloodlines are very important in this film, as is a mythical connection between the people and their land, the blood and the soil. The king here really is more than a figurehead, but a living link to the land and to Thailand’s greatest historical heroes.

You also get a sense of the deep-seated Thai/Burma antagonism. The Burmese king is not an entirely unsympathetic character, but almost all the other Burmese are arrogant, sneering, and duplicitous. I’m not sure if this film was more overtly nationalistic than similar Western epics; it just might have seemed that way because I was seeing it without much built-in context. But it was basically a Thai propaganda film, for Thais. It’s very interesting to hear the stories a culture tells to itself.

I did a pub quiz the other night with Lyndsay and the expat crew at a place called The Dubliner. Our team, “The Lyndsay” came in second. (Out of four teams. Shut up. Like you know how many yards are in a furlong.)

“The downside of reverence” is the note I scribbled to myself as I was watching the third of the three Thai rock bands I saw one night on Phra Arthit (”Bangkok’s answer to Greenwich Village”– Lonely Planet). What are the cultural conditions necessary to create good rock music, I ask? These bands all had a similar sound–kind of emo at its sappiest, with very syrupy pop harmonies.

Still, everyone was having fun and people were friendly–toasts, shouted attempts at conversation over the music, dancing next to me, etc. (PS on the youth culture tip, I would say the dominant look of the kids here is early 2000s, Strokes-era NYC–Chuck Taylors, shaggy hair, skinny pants.) I’m sure there must be more going on here music-wise than I’ve been privy to? I haven’t looked very hard. I will say that most of the music I’ve heard in the background is from the US or the UK. (Song I heard a few days ago that has been stuck in my head: “We’re Going to Be Friends” by The White Stripes).

I offer you belated Lunar New Year blessings. Those of us born under the sign of the Pig are said to be lucky in Chinese astrology. However, my portents for the coming year of the Fire Pig are looking, well, ass.

Astrology.com says “Water–your fixed element–and Fire spell disaster, so don’t take any unnecessary risks.” (Emphasis mine. But still.) I apparently will have only two good months this year.

And then, this. I was in Chinatown last night for New Year’s festivities. At the Temple of the Golden Buddha (Wat Traimit), I put a 5-baht coin into the “Give Alms Hole” of a fortune-telling machine that had a statue of the god Brahma inside. Here is what I got: “Be faithful and firm. Watch your step. Support can be obtained from among honest people. Bad omen foreseen. Refill oil to the lamps at this place, and unfavorable situation will be alleviated. Patient recovering. No child forthcoming as yet. No lucks. Legal case defensible. Refill the oil.” (Emphasis mine.)

What oil?!?

I read in the paper today that turnout in Chinatown last night was way down from last year, apparently because of all the political unrest. It was still a giant red blur of a crowd. New photos uploaded–you may want to work backwards from the end of the set at this point. You can also always check out my linked-up Flickr page . . .

Speaking of taking unneccessary risks, I think I finally completed the circuit of using every available means of transportation in Bangkok when I rode home on the back of a motorcycle last night. It was thrilling to zoom in and out of traffic and speed down narrow alleyways. I tried taking pictures but I almost lost my balance and got scared and gave up. I.O.U. an even more life-threatening action photo. What have I got to lose? It sounds like I’m screwed no matter what.

More posts on the way. I’m trying to figure out how to allow embedded pictures & video in the comments section; also trying to get the map feature off the ground, as I’m hitting the road on Wednesday. Thanks everyone so far for commenting!