Myanmar

So after the highly anticipated reuniting of myself with my friend, Natasha, in Bangkok, after all day of wasting time (I literally watched Al Jazeera English for like 5 hours- its better than CNN, FACT), we flew the next morning to Yangon, the capital of Myanmar.

We were met at the airport by a middle-aged man, Khine, who she had contacted through Couchsurfing. After we checked into our hotel, we had breakfast with him and then arranged to meet the next day.

A roadside stall in Yangon

After a nap- we had only slept 2 hours the night before (Bangkok will do that) we met another couchsurfer, Andreas from Zurich. He was hosting a guy from Oklahoma, Zach, who mentioned a rock concert in town that night. After some wine and cheese at Andreas's place- yes wine and fancy cheese, Ah expats- we went to check out the concert.

Arriving late, we thought we might have missed it, but walking through the park we started to hear the music and as we hiked up over a small rise, we saw the crowd. About 10,000 strong in the middle of a park in Yangon, truthfully a very politically controlled city, shirtless, tatoos, piercings, belting out every word verbatim with the long haired metal rocking band. The music was rocking, the crowd was rolling.

After standing on the fringe and watching for an hour, I had to join in and was welcomed near the front of the crowd by gangs of young shirtless Burmese men, proud to have a foreigner in their midst. It was a great night out.

Burma, and especially Yangon, struck me as an obvious intersection of Indian and East Asian cultures and peoples. The first day I felt like I said, "Man, this is just like in India!" about a hundred times. Even the faces of the locals look like a graft of Indian and Chinese features. Very bizarre. But the people are incredibly friendly. They have that reputation and I think they live up to it very well.

The next morning we had breakfast and met Khine again. He took us all around the city, walking, showed us a few sites and answered all of our questions. He even took us to an apartment rented out by a Belgian man, also a CSer, which houses two young Burmese women whose educations he is now sponsoring. Khine asked me to teach them English and I ended up quizzing them on their geography. It was a pretty cool experience.

Khine is an incredibly generous and knowledgeable man. His siblings live in Britain, Australia and Singapore, but as the oldest he had to make the money early on and so he remains in Myanmar. Although he hinted quietly and indirectly that he doesn't like the government (open dissent is still brutally punished) I think he is an ardent patriot and enjoys living in Yangon, and helping travelers.

Our second morning, Natasha and I decided to take a bus that night to the old colonial capital of Mandalay, 16 hours north. The bus ride was long and horrifically uncomfortable, but c'est la vie, and we arrived in one piece.

I'm sorry to say we didn't do much sight seeing in Mandalay proper. The first day we headed to see a famous ancient bridge in a neighboring small city, Amarapura, which itself is very old. Pagodas abound here and Natasha made sure to photograph them all.

Riding atop a mini bus in Mandalay

Famous ancient U Bein teak bridge near Mandalay

We got a ride back to town from a huge family who shared the back of a pickup (I'm talking 12 people) and they insisted we share the front with the driver and wouldn't allow us to pay. "We are all brothers under God," he told me. There are still many christians in Myanmar, a residue of colonialism.

Twelve happy faces in the back of a pickup!

The next morning I got up super early and went for a walk around the gorgeous palace wall and watched the sun rise over it. Unfortunately I forgot my camera, but the views of the city in the dawn light are beautiful. Lines of young monks march on sides of streets, accepting alms of food from people who apparently have prepared large amounts of food just to feed them. This must be pretty common because I think nearly all Burmese men spend time in a monastery during their life. Khine did also.

Later that morning we took a shared taxi an hour up to the hill station of Pyin U Lwin (yeah I could never pronounce it either). The weather was much cooler up there (its like 95-100 in Mandalay and not much cooler in Yangon) and Natasha immediately complained about the cold. I think it was like 70 in the shade. VERY refreshing.

Gold villager handicrafts on sale in Pyin U Lwin

Dusk in Pyin U Lwin

The small town doesn't have much to offer other than its quaintness. Colonial buildings, few tourists (like everywhere in Burma these days) and pony drawn carriages straight out of Cinderella made our short stay very worthwhile. This was our favorite place in Myanmar.

In a pony drawn carriage in Pyin U Lwin

Another overnight bus- this one slightly more comfortable because we simply did not allow the people in front of us to recline their seats, even though they got REALLY pissy about it- and we were back in Yangon. More walking around in the heat, and we went to use the internet.

While Natasha and I were discussing flights for my return visit to Saigon, she realized she didn't have her black leather bound notebook. Now that wouldn't be a tremendous loss if she didn't keep ALL her extra cash in it ($900) and even her flight ticket from Bangkok back to Ho Chi Minh City.

The rest of the afternoon and evening we retraced our steps of the day, I grilled her with questions and, I hate to say, was pretty annoyed that she had been so careless even after my warnings. Finally we gave up, I made her file a police report for insurance reasons, and we met up with Andreas and another German guy who was in town for one night because he works on a cruise ship that was in port and he had the night free.

We had some drinks, went to a club, Andreas hung out with some of the local working girls there that he is obvious acquaintances with, he said something rude, Natasha scolded him, there was awkward tension and then Natasha and I went back to our room.

The next morning we changed hotels and went to go get a new ticket for Natasha at the Bangkok airways office. While she was doing the paperwork, we decided I should run downstairs to the internet office below- the same one where she realized she had lost or had stolen her notebook- and check there. I figured it was worth a shot but knew it was horribly unlikely.

I walked in and asked if we left a book yesterday. I saw a black leather book on the desk and the guy working there said, "This one?" I opened it in slow motion and was relieved to recognize the colorful ink vandalizing the business-intended pages. I found it!

I tried not to make a big deal about how Natasha actually never lost it until she left the internet cafe in a storm ready to go look for it. It was beside the computer the whole time. I never bothered looking because I was behind her and had to rush up the street to catch up after she left.

So the rest of the day we basked in the warm relief of finding her money and ticket. Khine took us to the market and helped her bargain for LOTS of stuff. We had lunch, took a taxi to the Shwedagon Pagoda, the largest and most beautiful in Yangon and a symbol of Burma. After snapping a few photos we drove to the fancy expat wine and cheese store, where Andreas met us and we spent a few hours living the sophisticated life again.

A familiar looking tourist photographing the incredibly huge Shwedagon Pagoda in Yangon

Natasha is the biggest cheese snob I've ever heard of. Its incredible how its all she eats and how little time goes by before she feels she has earned herself a meal of cheese (maybe 12 hours).

The next morning we flew back to Bangkok and headed to the market where again she was a gift purchasing monster. It was impressive. That night was the big CS meeting that Natasha had been working a month to plan. We met about a dozen couchsurfers at the bottom of the Baiyoke Tower, the tallest building in Thailand.

We took a ride up to the revolving observation deck on the 84th floor and had our free drinks on the 83rd. The rest of the night was spent drinking and dancing with our CS friend, Charlie from Cameroon, DJ'ing until 2 am. Hung over the next morning, and Natasha with a bad stomach virus, our last hours together were not beautiful but I know we will see each other again in Saigon in 4 weeks.

Observation deck, 84th Floor, Baiyoke Tower, Bangkok

I'd wrap up better but I gotta run to the bathroom. I arrived today in Malaysia and something I ate (maybe all the deep fried bread) had done my stomach in.

Laos Part 2

OK truthfully, there isn't much to part 2...

The day after we got back from the trek we jumped on a local boat heading down the river, back to Mung Qua, the first place we stopped after we crossed the border. The boatmen didn't even try very hard to make us pay more than the locals. I love Laos.

The ride took from around six hours as our narrow longboat packed with people and cargo (because no respectable Laos villagers goes ANYWHERE without at least one live chicken in a basket) motored down dozens of rapids and passed waving children playing in the eddies of the brown river. The sun shone, which was lucky because we often got splashed when going through rapids, and the day was very enjoyable.

Reaching Mung Qua after the last bus left to Udomxai, we prepared to stay the night. That of course turned into two nights. The small town is so picturesque clinging to the hillside surrounded by dense forest and jungle and set right next to the river that we decided to forgo the relatively touristy northwest entirely and chill out in Mung Qua.

The second day we went for a swim in the river, the favorite past time of seemingly everyone in town. Mostly we hung out with a gang of young boys 8-10 years old, but at sunset the river was packed with locals of every age and bother genders. Some bathing clothed, some bathing naked, some riding an innertube down the swift currents, and others playing in the wake of boats just passed.

The highlight for us was when we inevitably courted our cult following of the young boy gang. One boy climbed high onto the cables of the ferry bridge before plunging back into the water. Some shampooed their scalps before diving off of pilons. All of them jumped in together when the ferry bridge moved to bring a truck to the other bank.

By the end, we were on the shore surrounded by squealing young girls as well. After seeing one boy skip a rock, I followed suit as did Adrian. Soon I had devolved the grace of rock skipping into the maniacal chaos of mass skeet shooting.

Throwing one rock high into the air, a dozen other rocks were thrown by my young sages in an attempt to collide with mine. The mass heaving of rocks of course has an inherent mob craze feel to it and the children, and I, loved it. Then we practiced our Laos counting and their English counting, played a few other games, and I feigned throwing a couple of them in the river.

That may have been the last mentionable event to happen in Laos. Unfortunately the next day we arrived in Udomxai and were stranded there by the infrequent bus departures.

We spent one night back out in the fringes of Nong Khiew surrounded by giant limestone cliffs. That town was a bit more touristy then what we had become used to, but the scenery, and our journey to some caves that were inhabited by locals during the war, made it an enjoyable stop. Also, that was the first town to offer us Beer Laos Dark. Beer Laos is the ubiquitous brew in the country and is probably the best in SE Asia, but its still light. Beer Laos Dark is its seldom seen dark counterpart. It is delicious.

Then we went to the touristy town of Luang Prabang which travelers swear by. Because we are infinitely bored of temples, have already done the trekking, visited caves and waterfalls, and gone down the river by boat, the city offered us nothing but expensive prices. A day later Adrian and I said goodbye to our longtime travel partner, Sjoukje who would head east, and took an all day bus to Vientiane.

A small city, and the capital, Vientiane also didn't offer me anything of interest except one night of 6 trips to the toilet.

After crossing the border back to Thailand, and catching an all night bus back to Bangkok last night, I am here and healthy in this steamy metropolis. I will joing a CS meeting here in two hours, and Natasha arrives two hours later.

Tomorrow morning we have an early flight west to Myanmar (Burma) where we will spend one week before returning to BKK, from where I head south to Malaysia. I already bought my ticket to Borneo!

I've heard mixed details about internet in the nation of Myanmar, so if I don't update for a full week, and no one receives emails, worry not. I am probably just a new political prisoner and will be released heroically upon the popular overthrow of the ruling military junta. Hopefully before I am completely bald.

Laos Part 1

I apologize for not updating my blog earlier. Internet in the north of Laos is completely nonexistent and I haven't sat still in one place long enough to compose my thoughts of my last two weeks in this country.


From Hanoi I took an all day minibus up to the far reaches of northwestern Vietnam, to a city named Dien Bien Phu. When I reached there I found out that the bus that usually runs three times a week and should be running the next day, had broken down and so I had to search for alternative means of transportation.

Never one to worry so much, and knowing that my two friends, Adrian and Sjoukje, had crossed the morning before, I got up early the next day, and hired a moto driver to take me the 38 km up to the border. When I arrived I realized that it is truly remote up here. We hadn't passed a village within 10 k on the road and the border station was little more than a small outpost perched on a ridge embedded in the surrounding mountainous forest.

After the border formalities on the Vietnamese side- I was the ONLY person there at the time- I began looking for available transport to the Laos border post which I was told was only 800 meters down the road.

There was a man strapping things down onto the back of a motorbike and when he saw me he offered me a ride for $15 dollars down to the nearest town, Mung Qua, which was 80 km away. I was just about to counter his offer when I saw this big van pull up and six white people, three couples, get out and head into the building. I thought, "This is my chance."

I went back inside, spoke to the people and found out that basically an old French couple had rented the van to take them all the way from Dien Bien Phu to Mung Qua, for $250! When I heard the price that the man paid I was really surprised. He was DEFINITELY getting screwed over, but he told me he felt like he had no choice since the bus was broken until who knows when. He agreed I could have a ride and said he wouldn't ask me for anything. The other couples had chipped in or paid the driver even more instead of paying the French man who had paid for the whole van before.

After getting through the Laos border we stopped only once, to check out the wreckage of a big semi-like truck that had fallen off the road a couple days ago. There was a man in a tent there but he didn't need a ride and said the driver of the wrecked truck was taken back to Vietnam. Hopefully no one had died.

The truck that had fallen off the mountain road.

Arriving in Mung Qua, I first had to block attempts of the van driver who thought I owed him $20 for the ride (bullshit) and then eventually walked away to find a guesthouse. Arriving at one, I walked in, saw a couple of packs and did a double take. There was a pink helmet hanging off of one. That pack belongs to Sjoukje! I thought for sure that they had headed off somewhere this morning and wouldn't still be here. They had waited for me!

I began my search and, because the town is SMALL, I found them immediately and big hugs were given all around. We ate lunch, I bought the French couple lunch and a couple beers for giving me a ride- they were very appreciative so thats good- and we hopped on the 330 bus for Udomxai, the biggest town in the north of Laos.

On the way Adrian and I changed our plans. Instead of heading northwest where there were a lot of tourists, and some great trekking options, we decided to head way north where the tourists were few and the Chinese border nearby. So the next morning we took a 9 hour rattletrap up to Phongsali.

Adrian, Canadian; Sjoukje, Dutch; and our rattle trap, Laos

Our hotel was cheap, but we arrived on Saturday, and Sunday the tourism office was closed meaning we couldn't organize a trek, and it was horribly foggy and rainy all day. Internet was nearly non existent, there was no TV, but there was plenty of card playing, cookie eating, and for a short time, we were invited to partake in some local fire water with a bunch of short male youths listening to load music and dancing up a storm to celebrate Womens' Day. How that was celebrating I don't know.

A foggy day of fun in Phongsali

Later we celebrated Women... with young men... and green alcohol.

That night over dinner we were approached by a soft spoken polite local man who used to work for an NGO in the town but now was guiding treks while he found another job. We agreed to go on a two day trek with him starting the next day because we figured even if the rain held, we could be dry the second night.

Early the next morning we walked to a local bus stand and awaited our guide, Song. When he finally arrived we stood on a tiny cramped mini bus to a village named Hatsa. Adrian and I used a trick I have picked up involving both leaning and ducking in a comfortable position to survive the 20k (which took 1.5 hours!) ride in the very short us. I sang songs to the locals who stared at me in disbelief and we arrived in one piece.

The comforts of Laos bus travel.

After Song bargained for a ride up the river with some local boatmen, we all stepped onto a long boat and were ferried for half an hour past villages and jungle up the Nam Ou river. We were dropped off at a small sandbar, promised we would be picked up the next day, and we began our ascent.

Riverside, waiting to catch a longboat in Hatsa

The rain over the previous few days made the steep trail muddy and a challenging climb. My old tattered shoes have little of the way of tread left on the bottoms, and that fact helped nothing. Despite this, I never fell on the hour-long ascent of the first mountain.

After a few hours we stopped for lunch. Song produced a huge bag of sticky rice, a bag of beef lap (cold beef with green onions and spices), an omelet each, and a small bag of sauce made from a fruit he called hawk plum. After our hours of steep climbing we gobbled down the meal until the food was completely gone. It was the most delicious meal I had in Laos.

Another hour brought us to the first of three minority hill tribe villages we would visit. The small gathering of bamboo and thatch huts were set on a hillside overlooking a vast range of misty mountains. The site was gorgeous and thinking of the beauty of their everyday view made me think of Sonapani and its position overlooking a range of 25,000 ft. peaks in the Himalaya.

After visiting the tiny but seemingly well stocked school, we stopped in a local home to drink some tea out of VERY dirty glasses. One child in the hut had a fever that has lasted a few days and Song tried to describe the traditional medicine to woman.

The school in the first village, built by an NGO

Because of her remoteness, she doesn't speak Laos, but her young son had studied a little and translated for them. Song used hand gestures and made noises, got the materials he needed and made a tea for the ill toddler. Afterward, we asked him what he had done, since it is very very dark in the home, and he answered that he had taken "chicken shit, put in fire, when hot make tea."

Another hour and a half of hiking brought us to a second village where we first sang to some startled children (not a lot of traffic of tourists through this region) and then joined the village chief in some tea in his home. A few other older men joined us and they passed around a large bamboo tobacco bong between them, and Sjoukje even took a turn. (I bought a decorated one for $0.66 cents in Hanoi).

Finally after one more hour of trekking we arrived right before dusk at the village where we would sleep that night. After meeting our hosts we took a stroll among the numerous large thatch and bamboo huts while Song helped to cook dinner.

The third village where we spent the night.

A few curious children following us soon turned into a dozen and then into 30. I felt like Tiger Woods walking to the green of the 18th hole with the gallery of small snot-faced children following 10 meters behind.

When we had reached the other side of the village where more kids were playing a game with some marble-like balls, I immediately invited myself to play. Of course my one turn of attempting to flick a ball off of one finger into a tiny hole two meters away went horribly wrong. The ball went flying behind me and the crowd erupted in laughter. Let the entertainment by the white people begin.

I sang to them. I stood on one leg and jumped around. I made fake glasses over my eyes with my fingers. I did the running man, jumping jacks, and was about to attempt a head stand with I was saved by a small boy coming to join the large semi-circle of men women and children watching the strange white giants make fools of themselves.

As he ran down a small slope, the tiny child flew into a graceful cartwheel.

"YES! Do it again! AGAIN!" I yelled at the boy who was immediately too embarrassed that I had singled him out. However, the attention paid to him did attract others to follow suit. Kids cartwheeled, did hand stands and other tricks while the crowd, led by we three whiteys, cheered them on. It was incredible.

To round off the day, Adrian had a push up contest with one guy- he won- Sjoukje gave a noble attempt at a cartwheel which ended hilariously and a tiny tiny boy no older than three did his version of a cartwheel over and over while the crowd slowly lost steam for him. But it was crazy cute.

For dinner we ate steamed rice, potato soup, fresh vegetables and Song had brought some more beef. We had to drink more neon green firewater with our host, each time we took a sip, calling for a toast by saying Cheepa toma!

After breakfast the next morning, we started our long descent back to the river. I did slip once or twice and got pretty muddy. The day was relatively uneventful but the weather held out for us and we had some decent views around the range.

Taking a break on the second day at an empty bamboo hut

That night we stayed in Hatsa, I bathed (for the first time more than a week) in the river with the locals, and we stayed in a gorgeous bamboo guesthouse overlooking the river and the main part of the tiny village.

Our guide, Song, on the boat back to Hatsa after our trek

After just the first week in Laos, I was in love. The people are way more easy going that in any other Asian country I've visited, with "Bo Peng Yung" (no problem) seemingly the national phrase of choice. Hassle is low and the people are friendly if laid back about it. Plus the absence of tourism in large sections of the country just begs for adventure seekers to come explore.

Vietnam Rap Up

As I am set to leave this beautiful country, I guess I should update on what I've been up to for the past two weeks. Sorry no pictures today.

After arriving in Hoi An on my moto, Penelope, I spent a couple days in the small city hanging out with Brad, Adrian and a few other friends. Apparently it is a nice place to visit, but for me, after coming from the tourist-free mountains and from the freedom of driving myself, the omnipresent jewellery shops, tailors and hassle was too much and I was itching to leave.

So I rode with Adrian up the coast 130 Km to Hue, another stop on the tourist track. This day started off nice but turned into the most miserable on the trip and sufficient enough to skew my intended plans.

As we left the major city of Danang, the 4th largest in Vietnam and on the coast between Hoi An and Hue, we have to cross a couple of short mountains passes. The first was a beautiful ride, although the clouds of the morning turned to mist, to drizzle, to rain before we reached the white out conditions at the top of the pass. Putting on some more clothes, we descended and continued on our way to Hue.

However as the weather got worse and worse, the adventure of the day turned into misery. After we ate lunch about 30 Km from Hue I decided to just head into town as fast as possible and threw down the throttle.

Just once I stopped to make sure Adrian was behind me as my tiny rearview mirror shows almost nothing. After 20 seconds I saw his big bike coming so I hit the throttle hard again and roared north through the wind and rain.

However when I stopped again at the outskirts of Hue, Adrian wasn't 20 seconds behind me. He wasn't 5 minutes, or 10 either. I found the place where he and I had agreed to meet if we got separated but he wasn't there and still hadn't appeared after an hour. I began getting worried that his bike broke down or worse, he had been in an accident.

Shivering from the cold and my drenched clothes sapping my body's heat, I booked a hotel, emailed Adrian to tell him where I was and to call me, and took a hot shower to warm up. I put both my soaked pairs of pants up to dry but of course it was days later before I was wearing dry pants again.

Finally as I watched news about the declared independence of Kosovo on CNN, my cell phone range. He was fine, but his bike, which he never named, was not. Hours later he had it towed into town (read: two bikes one rope) and came into the room sullen.

All the next day I pushed him around to repair shops and finally on the 4th shop he had been to they agreed that they could fix it for him. The mechanics identified some problem with his engine which would require hours and hours of work disassembling and reassembling the engine and replacement parts. For all this work, Adrian paid the amount of 315,000 Vietnamese dong. That amounts to just under $20. You gotta love the prices here.

So after that stressful day, Adrian and Sjoukje, a Dutch friend who Adrian had traveled with for awhile weeks before and who I had only met briefly, but who saw me in an internet cafe and joined us in our 4 bedroom hotel room, headed off to do some touristy site seeing, which apparently is nice, while I attempted to change my plans.

After looking at the weather forcast for the north of Vietnam (I was still only about halfway up) and finding that we could expect lovely days of cold and rain for the next two weeks, we abandoned our plan to visit the mountainous north before heading to Hanoi. Natasha, my friend in Saigon invited me back to her place and offered to by Penelope, so I was looking for a bus or train to put the bike and myself onto.

Of course this was very frustrating and took all day. However eventually I was aboard and 18 hours later I was in Saigon although it took me two days more to get my bike and then it wouldn't start and even now runs horribly. After spending a few more days with Natasha and Amy I flew up to Hanoi and put my passport in for a visa extension since mine was to expire in a few days.

That was Wednesday night. Thursday morning Adrian, Sjoukje, Will- a young british guy who I met on my way from the airport- and I headed east to visit the famed Halong Bay. Somehow we had decided together to on a tour and spend a night on a junk, the type of boat that is used. Of course the tour was annoying and completely frustrating at times after we had been used to traveling only by moto. Indeed my first bus in Vietnam was from Hanoi to Halong City.

The bay was beautiful although the weather blurred the gray sky with gray water. But a bottle of Red Label consumed our night on board the ship and having 3 good friends with me made the trip tolerable.

That weekend Natasha visited and organized a very successful couchsurfing gathering at a local restaurant where locals, expats and travelers all joined together for a meal and conversation. A very fun event.

Natasha left Sunday night, Adrian left Monday morning, Sjoukje and Will, another friend, left Monday night and I remained, still waiting for my passport to be returned.

Finally yesterday, Tuesday, I got my passport, and today I will get my Myanmar visa returned to me finally. There is a 6am bus up to the border with Laos where Adrian and Sjoukje await my arrival. I will probably cross early Friday morning my time and then spend about two weeks in the country, hopefully most of it trekking, before heading back to Bangkok and meeting Natasha for our weeklong trip to Myanmar (Burma).


I apologize for the rambling sense of this post. Nothing important has happend and although I do have some good pictures, it isn't a good place to upload them here. I have changed my ticket home and will arrive in SFO on May 6th, two weeks later than planned. Hopefully my money will last that long!