Saturday, January 10, 1998

It's time to move on. There is no magic rule stick I've discovered. After a few days or hours of walking around there is nothing more that immediately beckons me. I look onward to the next stop, something nearby, a step in the bigger journey. My decisions are based on a word in the tour book that appeals, a destination in the direction I'm going. The notion of backtracking doesn't fit into my sense of progression. I wonder what I am missing, but traveler's remorse doesn't add anything to the trip. I choose to see what I shall see and let the rest go. The next steps from here lead north into Thailand and meeting Traci. I'm nervous. It's a challenge to figure out another country, the attitudes of the people, and how they treat tourists. I was mostly ignored in Malaysia, sort of slipping through the cracks. I watch, wandering their streets, looking at shops, an observer of life.

I leave very early from my hotel in Penang on a of mini bus to Hat Yai. There is a loose plan but I'm not sure what I'm doing or how to get there. Like others, I refer to my Lonely Planet Guide Book and hope the details will work out. The bus goes on. A couple getting away for the weekend tells me that Hat Yai is a place where men from Malaysia go for women. It's a party town just over the border. Malaysia is Muslim and stricter about those sorts of things. Somehow it's okay when they cross the border? The bus driver dumps another tourist traveler and I at a corner café. He tells us to wait here for the bus to Phuket. I guess that is where I want to go next. In the "it's a small world category", I run into a young Australian fellow I've seen three times before on various busses in Malaysia. He is doing his backpack and party adventure. A right of passage I guess. I wait near the café, not quite sure which bus goes when. I walk around the block, look at some of the shops and the people moving by. As I return to the café a is bus leaving for Phuket. I get on it.

One of the passengers on the mini transit bus is a Finnish woman. We strike up a nice conversation. She is a nurse and business school graduate escaping her high stress job in charge of a county elder care program. The stresses of the modern world extend beyond Silicon Valley. She is going to Krabi, which the bus goes by on the way to Phuket. I don't think I want to go to the more commercial resorts of Phuket so I decide to get off the bus with her in Krabi. The bus lets us off on the side of the road. We discover that it is four more kilometers into town. She fumes but it's a problem in communication. The local transportation bus gives us a ride into town. We part company, each in search of places to stay. She has some suggestions that she is following up on, I choose a different route.

My guide book lists a few reputable tourist bureaus and I find one that helps me. I book a night stay in Krabi, a ferry ticket and place to stay in Ko Phi Phi, an island just off the coast. Coming from the land of credit card guarantees and money back protection, I nervously hand over cash to pay for this. It takes several tries at various money machines down the street to withdraw the right amount. I am also trying to sort out what is fair value for rooms and other tourist purchases. Bargaining is a learning experience I stress over. What is fair? I'm not sure.

The woman at the travel office helps me flag down the right local transportation, gets me in with my bags and makes sure the driver knows where to let me off. My hotel is a collection of huts around a swimming pool, just up the street from a beautiful beach. The plantings around the grounds are a riot of colors and shapes. It is better than pictures in the brochures. My room, an entire cottage, is very comfortable. I deposit my things and head out for a walk.

I tell myself to lighten up and enjoy the beauty that is all around me. It is postcard gorgeous. I drift through, self conscious in my aloneness and enjoy as best I can. The sunset is paradise. Isn't this what the saving has been for? Isn't this the adventure that I am lucky to be able to afford? I try and shake off the mental monetary gymnastics and breath into the enjoyment of this place. It takes time to unravel uptightness. More time than we usually give ourselves. We return from our short vacations, partially loosened up only to get wrapped up all over again. I've been gone a little over a week. It will take longer for me to get into all of this. I am lucky to have such a wonderful place to relax.

Sunday January 11, 1998

In the morning I get up, shower and head for the hotel breakfast. It turns out the owner of the hotel is from New York City. His Thai wife is from Chang Mai. He was doing a lot of import/export work via Hong Kong but says he is focusing more on the hotel business now. Soon he will advertise on the internet. His wife gives me a ride down to the beach where I will catch my boat.

The passengers stand in the early morning taking off shoes as the ferry comes. We wade in the shallows to climb the rope ladder to the boat. We are going to Ko Phi Phi, an island just off the western coast of southern Thailand. The boat is full of white, red-faced travelers. Many, mostly couples, are from Europe. Ko Phi Phi is jewel island, lightly populated. In the main town there are a lot of divers and diver wannabes, but the place is not totally overrun. There is still enough room for those of us who want to enjoy the paradise aspects of sun, sea, palm trees and lagoons. Hopefully it will not become too overdeveloped. It is beautiful.

I am met at the ferry dock by someone from the hotel. This is an advantage of making arrangements ahead of time. My hotel is a collection of bungalows. I have my own little shack, complete with porch. It is steps from the beach. With towel and tacky book in hand I go forth to relax. I sit and watch the world go by. Observing and thinking how strange the human body can look at times. Later I walk in "town" and have a nice dinner, including coconut peanut crabs. It was very tasty but not exactly welcomed by my digestive track. Oh well, maybe it was too rich. Better luck next time.

Monday, January 12,1998

I sign up for an "island tour". It is a day of going around in a boat, checking out beaches, good snorkeling, and beautiful scenery with sunshine bright on water, palm trees and sandy beaches. All this makes picture perfect post cards. The roar of longboat engines with no mufflers punctuates everything. They are the local transportation. It is noise pollution in a big way. My western-ness sees this but I can't begrudge the locals a chance to earn a living.

Our tour group consists of three Australians, a solo Japanese woman and a German couple. Our first destination is an island park. We wander the beach, wade in the water and eat the provided lunch of fried rice wrapped in paper. Next on our itinerary is a lagoon. We snorkel and paddle around for more than an hour. Adults become kids looking at the tropical life in the clear bright water. On our return we stop for a visit to a cave of bird's nests and some more recent wall painting. This is a truly beautiful place.

I am digestively challenged. The tour lunch combined with a day in the sun does not sit well with my stomach. I take a shower, lay down to rest and feel better after an upchuck. Later a walk into town and a simple dinner. There seems to be fairly good security in the hotel. A guard makes steady, unintrusive patrols. That is good. I am not paranoid, only careful and watchful. It is better to avoid problems.

I am becoming disengaged from the work and computers and frenzy of the life I have left behind. Gradually it is replaced by a traveler's wandering curiosity about this place, local people, foods, landscapes and crafts. It is still too early for total relaxation with my solo journeying self, but I gain confidence as each experience is gathered. I learn again that things do have a way of working out.

Tuesday, January 13, 1998

It is time to travel from western to eastern Thailand. I am meeting Traci tomorrow morning on the island of Ko Samui. The journey is slightly complicated; boat from Ko Phi Phi to Krabi, bus from Krabi to Surat Thani, boat to Ko Samui, bus to the hotel! I like the going, the sitting, the watching, and the occasional conversations with other travelers. My main hang up is finding a place to stay. Lodging has a very subjective value scale and I want to get the best deal. It's especially difficult because I don't know all of the options and am at the mercy of someone else's advice or the desk clerk's mood when he quotes a rate or gives me a specific room. My oh my, what a dilemma. I brought it with me and continue to carry it around like a heavy weight. A practical lesson in trauma, but it continues to be a stress inducing activity.

There's nothing to complain about with any beachfront bungalow on Ko Samui. The ocean rolls at our doorstep. The main drag with restaurants and other touristic amusements is an easy walk but far enough away not to hear the noise. This is what the brochures tease you with. Ah!

Wednesday, January 14, 1998

Tropical flowers surround the airstrip. Traci's plane arrives. She is tired after the long flight from San Francisco and spending the night in the Bangkok airport.

It is easy to change gears and travel with someone. We were recently introduced through a mutual friend. She is easygoing and fun to talk to. I am glad she is here.

The sun is out. Our ride takes us back to our hotel on the beach. It's time to change, grab tacky books and relax in the sand. We talk, snooze , watch the ocean and gradually get in synch with what to do and where to go. Traci is totally at home in any beach community. She grew up in Santa Cruz and lives there now. She could stay in Koh Samui for her entire two-week visit. Other adventures await us. Our conversations range from philosophical to silly. It is so wonderful to share time with someone.

In the late afternoon, after naps and laziness, we mosey into town and survey the shops, restaurants and tourist amusements. There are a few Americans, but most of the tourists seem to be European. We walk along the dirt road, checking our menus for restaurants and looking at the various souvenir shops. We find a restaurant that looks good and enjoy a leisurely tasty meal.

After dinner, banana pancakes are the evening treat. They start as small pieces of dough that are pounded and plopped and stretched with great fanfare into a round, thin, twelve inch disc. Some fat substance is put on a griddle that looks like an upside down metal drum. The pancake is cooked and when properly browned, bananas are sliced on to it. The pancake is folded into a nice package, cut into bite size squares and then drizzled with chocolate sauce and maybe some sweetened condensed milk. The fellow that makes ours is quite the performer. He slaps the dough and splats the fat with great theatrics. His wife patiently drizzles sauces, chops and counts out change. We sit down at a table and enjoy our treat with great relish!

Thursday, January 15, 1998

Time on the island flows between relaxing on the beach, walking around town looking is shops, and finding good places to eat. Today we take an excursion around the island to look at the large Buddha. We catch a public bus that circles the island. After getting off the bus, we go down a dirt road to a group of buildings on a small peninsula. Towering over everything is a huge, golden Buddha statue. He sits in serene contemplation looking out at the landscape beyond. Dwarfed, we climb the steps to his feet. We are one of a few groups of tourists. It is not busy today. The weather is warm, sunny and humid. We move slowly in the late morning heat. After visiting the statue, we check out the different stores filled with everything from t-shirts to carvings to furniture to post cards. There is a cafe that serves us a nice lunch while we sit in the back overlooking a view of the water and tropical shoreline.

Traci is dealing with her jetlag, I'm feeling very relaxed and enjoying the company. We splurge on a taxi back to our hotel and spend the rest of the afternoon on the beach. Gradually we work out where we want to go in Thailand. Traci's vacation time is limited to two weeks. So, as nice as Ko Samui is, there are other places in Thailand waiting exploration.

During our late afternoon visit into town, we get tickets for the various transportation we will need to get to Bangkok. There are several different travel offices in town. We find one that seems reasonable and arrangements are made. A trip to the money machine for me and cashing travelers checks for Traci completes our transactions. Business done, we have a nice dinner. The ocean waves lull us to sleep at hotel.

 

A favorite evening dessert. The production is as good as the product.

Friday, January 16, 1998

Travel day; bus to boat to bus to station then car to overnight train to Bangkok. Whew!

It's never quite clear exactly what is going on or where is the right place to go. We catch a local bus that circles the island. It drops us off at the pier where we catch a boat to the mainland. At the pier there are two boats. One that is small and very full of travelers and other backpackers. Several of the locals try to get us on to that boat, but the only place left to sit is outside in the bright sun. Further down the pier is a larger ferry. It is going the same place but leaving later. We get onto the bigger ferry. The journey is much more comfortable and there is plenty of shade available. The scenery is breathtaking. Ocean and sky and islands float, emerging gradually through the haze. My photographs can never equal the expansiveness of this place.

The ferry landing in Surat Thani is away from town. We need to get on a bus to take us to the train station. Tourist helpers direct the many travelers from our ferry into various busses. There is confusion as to who goes where. Nothing is clearly marked and the local young Thai travel coordinators try as best they can to get us to where they think we are going. If you expect Western travel efficiencies you will be very frustrated. Relaxing and letting things work themselves out ensures a much happier time for all.

It turns out that our bus only goes to the bus station. The train station is an additional distance. It's not clear just how far or what we need to do to get there. The young Thai woman who is on our bus tries to answer our questions. A French man sitting across the aisle interrupts with great consternation "You people" meaning the Thai "do this all the time! You say one thing and it turns out totally differently. You tell us it is time to go but we wait. You send us to the wrong places. It is terrible!..." I politely mention to the Frenchman that we are not having a problem, only trying to work out our travel plans. He continues with his huffing and puffing. I tell him less politely we do not have a problem and our business is our own and will be taken care of. This exchange is not lost on the Thai travel helper. When we get to the bus station she has us wait while she sorts out some other business. Then a friend of hers who is going home gives us a ride in their car to the train station. Everything works out well in the end!

We manage to get tickets on an earlier train, upgrading to first class. It makes the trip much better. We have our own compartment for two. There is enough time to stock up on soda and some snacks for the train ride. The train station is a jumble of people, parcels, and vendors selling all sorts of food, from homemade specialties to candy bars.

The night train is an adventure. We look around our cabin, make up our bunks and feel glad that we splurged for first class instead of being semi private behind a curtain in second class. We eat our snacks, gossip some, read some and then try and sleep some. This is supposed to be easy with the gentle rocking of the train on the tracks. It rocks all right. It's an irregular gate with occasional stops. We are perched on rather hard sleeping surfaces. We sleep, sort of.

Saturday, January 17, 1998

We arrive bleary eyed to the bustle of the Bangkok train station. Local "tourist assistants" scope us out as novices. In hopes of assistance, we lug our suitcases to the "tourist bureau" around the corner. It's really a travel agency posing as a public do-good place. Yeh, yeh. We get some advice. Tiredness overtakes us and we grab an overpriced cab to a hotel chosen from the tour book. It's okay, not the Orient, but it will do. We check the rooms, check in and then try to relax, some breakfast maybe? Our next stop is to explore the big weekend market. Traci says you can get almost anything there. Navigating the public bus system, we manage to find it.

There is stuff everywhere, from Vietnamese ceramic elephants to fabric, furniture, books and clothing. We wander in and out of the stalls. I find some books on Thai typography. The letterforms are beautiful. One of the books is a textbook for graphic designers. We look at all sorts of things, getting lost in the market alleyways. Bangkok is a huge, noisy, polluted place, but things are tidy. Street sweepers keep sidewalks and store fronts picked up. Even so, I keep an eye on the dishwashing habits of street food vendors. Even if the food is cooked in front of us, a marginally clean reused plastic dish may require Peptol Bismol for dessert. We asked for our lunch in Styrofoam to go containers.

It is fun to be with Traci. Her approach to exploration and adventure is wonderful. She gets so much pleasure from trying different things. What fun! A positive person is great to travel with.

 

Big Buddha looks serenely on the tourists below.

Later, in the middle of the night, I am awake and thinking too much. My journal is a place of pondering, a place to get mind mumbles out of my head and on to paper so I can get back to sleep. I am learning a lot. Parts of this voyage seem so unreal, to actually be here. How? Why? I don't question that too much now. Maybe it doesn't matter. Each moment is an adventure. It's all jumbled up so I'm not going to worry about it, just go and see what happens. It's funny to let go of being Ms. Wonderwoman, trying to know everything and be in control. The challenge now is to take this adventure as it comes; the art of self-negotiation.

Sunday, January 18, 1998

We explore a temple where many locals visit. They bring their trays of food to be blessed and make offerings to the gods within. It is some sort of special religious day but without tour book or other info we can only observe the rituals, not really understand them. Parents, children, and couples go through a series of rituals which include prayer and offerings. Stalls sell flowers, incense and other items necessary for the process. When there are too many flower offerings on the alters, they are collected and brought back to the stand to be resold to the next visitors. The temple is a beautiful place. The outside is ornate white marble with carved, gilded, tiered roofs flying up to the sky. Inside the walls are richly painted with lovely floral textures. Impressive gold statues wait to receive offerings. A large container in the courtyard holds a water lily and a carp. Stacks of shoes surround the entrances of the temples. Bare feet pad lightly on the cool interiors. We watch, shoeless in the background. No one seems to mind our touristic photo activities. There is a very natural flow about the rituals. As groups leave others come to say their prayers and make offerings in an ongoing stream. It feels good.

 

Boarding the train to Bangkok in Surat Thani. Vendors sell a variety of food.

From the temple, we wander toward the Royal Palace. On the way, an enterprising tuk-tuk driver talks us into going on a ride to see Big Buddha and then Golden Hill. The only catch is a visit to a jewelry store. For a minimal fee and our shopping stop, the driver gets a gas coupon. It seems like a reasonable offer. Off we go. We manage to see Big Buddha and then make our stop at the store. It is filled with expensive jewelry of questionable quality. Many other tuk-tuk drivers are in evidence. And could we please also stop in the clothing store across the way and oh, by the way, if we buy something, the driver gets 5 gas coupons. We are bad tourists; we don't buy anything. Our next stop is the Golden Hill. We have a leisurely climb to the top, enjoying the temple and the view. Upon our descent, surprise, the tuk-tuk driver is no where to be found. He couldn't be bothered to collect his nominal fee. In the end, we saw a few tourist spots and had a learning experience. No more tuk-tuk bargains for us.

We take a taxi to Wat Pho, have a noodle lunch and wander around for a look at the Reclining Buddha. The tour book describes the wonderful massages given at the temple. We wait an hour for our appointment. There, amongst other tourist and locals we are attended to. The massage ladies chat away while absent-mindedly kneading away at their clients. It's an okay massage but I'm not sure I'd rush back.

The ferryboat is often the most efficient transportation in the city. We take the ferry to the Oriental Hotel. High tea in the "Author's Lounge" is very elegant and high brow. Lots of little cakes and tea in china cups. We stroll around the beautiful grounds. I send a fax home. It is nice to have a connection to family at times. Fancy hotels have conveniences that make the exotic very familiar and safe. A touch of luxury is always nice. You pay for the pampering. It minimizes the discomforts and unfamiliar. For me, experiencing differences is one of the reasons for travel.

We continue our wanderings, searching for a clothing place Traci visited before. There are many establishments that will make a suit or dress just for you. Packages can include a blouse, skirt, pants, jacket or some combination for a very reasonable fee. It takes a few days for someone in a back room to sew the garments from your measurements. The fabrics and styles are fairly standard. If made well, a good fitting garment looks great. I tend to prefer the less standard. In the heat and humidity of the tropics, I find it hard to get interested in a wool suit of any kind. I let the opportunity pass. Traci decides to order an outfit from the shop in the lobby of our hotel. They seemed like nice people and have a good selection of fabric.

It is dinnertime. We return to the waterfront hotels and have a lovely dinner at the Shangra-La Hotel. Fairy lights, passing boats on the water and soft air make it a magical place. The food is great too. A taxi back to our hotel and sleep. Who knows what adventures appear tomorrow!

Monday, January 19, 1998

After breakfast, we surrender to the traumas of fashion design and choosing of outfits to be made. Traci is in the clothing shop in the lobby of our hotel. She ponders designs and fabric with a desire for something different. In reality, they are better equipped to handle the conventional. I price a few dresses and decide it's more than I'm prepared to spend, especially if I don't really know what I want or where I'll wear it. My career future is up in the air - I'm not sure whether my next job will be a corporate endeavor with business attire or at home in jeans. I leave Traci to her decisions. We are tired; too much city noise and very bad air pollution. There is no relief, it's all new and big and overwhelming. Traci has a cold too. We try and give ourselves some time to relax. I feel a bit grungy; always in one of the same four t-shirts, two shorts, one pant, or one skirt that make up my wardrobe. I've been going less than a month. I wonder what 2, 3 or 5 months will feel like? For now, I tell myself, relax, enjoy.

We venture out to the joys of fabric shopping. After trudging through the hot and muggy streets, our pilgrimage leads to Jim Thompson Silk House to look at fabrics. First we go to his home and take a tour. He helped to invigorate the Thai silk industry and then disappeared in the jungle. The store with his name sells beautiful Thai silk fabrics that are part of his legacy. Traci buys some nice pieces for her bedroom. I look around and then have tea in the cafe. In the evening we have a nice dinner on the top floor of the Pan Pacific Hotel. Our luxury dining is a very enjoyable dinner buffet.

Tuesday, January 20, 1998

The day is filled with errands and wandering around. Traci gets a suit fitting. I send some things home at the post office. It is the first of many packages of stuff send to myself. Surprisingly, it all makes it home. When my purchases are too much to lug, I gather the stuff in plastic bags, go down to the local post office, pay the "packager" a fee to box or stitch up my package, then negotiate my way through customs and other shipping fees and details. My package goes off, usually by boat, to be (hopefully) delivered in about three month's time. I send my exposed film via airmail to my brother-in-law. He'll have it processed and I'll pick it up when I get home. Trips to the post office are adventures in local bureaucracy. Most of the workers are very friendly and helpful. With the exchange rate in good favor to the dollar, shipping is a very reasonable convenience.

I wander around the area where many Western travelers hang out. There are cafes with "American breakfast" and bars to help you forget where you are. In the back alleys, travelers can find unbelievably cheap accommodations that stretch limited travel budgets for months. It is not my way for this trip. An occasional Diet Coke supplements my local diet, but I am lucky my budget allows for better lodging.

Traci's suit is not shaping up as well as it should be. The tailor seems to be having problems fitting her American curves and height. I think this business may be more used to making garments for the Asian businessmen who stay at the hotel. They will take the sleeves out and give it another try.

Wednesday, 21 January, 1998

The thrill for today is cooking school at the Oriental Hotel. A pricey endeavor but worth it for entertainment, education and consumption value. The hotel gives a weeklong class, but we signed up for an individual day. Our class is on Krueang Gaeng and Krueang Kiang (curries, condiments and side dishes). It is good! The teacher is entertaining and informative. The students are from all over the world. I'm not sure I'll be able to make anything that we do in class but it's fun to watch and eat. Thai food is a complex variety and balance of flavors, sweet, spicy, cool, hot and tangy. Lucky for me, there are good Thai restaurants near my home.

 

An elaborate alter with a variety of food and floral offerings.

After another fitting for Traci's suit, things are looking better. We'll pick her outfit up when we return. We are catching an overnight train to Chiang Mai. In the station, we watch people and wait for our train to arrive. We get sodas and wander around looking at the magazines. This train is a bit better than the last one, or we know what to expect. We manage to get some sleep.

Thursday, 22 January, 1998

Thursday morning we arrive in Chiang Mai. Fuzzy headed, we get off the train and figure out how to get to our hotel. It's a nice place, comfortable with modern conveniences. We take showers and have breakfast. My mood alternates from major grumpy, to okay, to good. I'm not sure if it's the stress of travel or what. Traci rests while I take a walk. I find a blue embroidered jacket and a piece of fabric. It's traumatic for me to figure out how much to pay, what to bargain, how much to haggle, what's a fair price and other details that confront a westerner used to fixed price shopping and bargaining via the sale racks. Eventually, after much brain beating, I've reached the conclusion that after deciding what an item is worth to me then it's time for comparison shopping. If I want it, then I decide what is the most I'm willing to spend. Part of the fun of this trip is to get special things. Buy and enjoy, if it's worth it to me then that's okay. (Now take a breath.) Another challenge with shopping is there is so much stuff, stuff, stuff. It's hard to sort through it all. Many things are available at chain stores back home. It's not the end of the world. Gradually I relax and buy some souvenirs that have meaning to me. Oh the angst of a traveler raised from birth to be a consumer.

Tourist oriented Chang Mai has a cyber café. I send some email home. It feels good to be connected to the world even if it means the travel is less remote, I am happy for the progress. Amidst all the shopping trauma, Traci and I sign up for a trek into the hills. It's only two days, Traci was hoping for longer, but I really don't know. My anxiety of not knowing whom to trust and wanting to do the best thing causes indecisiveness. We can come back and go again or whatever.

In the evening, the main street in town becomes a night market, overflowing with souvenir vendors and sauntering tourists. The mountains of stuff is presented on street vendors tables is overwhelming. We do our share of looking and then settle into a corner street eatery. Our dinner is spicy noodle soup and dessert of banana chocolate pancake. Yum!

Friday, January 23. 1998

A trekking we do go. It's an ambitious hike. It turns out that this trek is the three-day loop condensed into two days. That's okay. We start out in a van with a collection of other tourists. An American Mother/Daughter pair, two Dutch fellows, a Japanese man, two women from Hong Kong, and an Australian woman who is a trek repeater and is good friends with the guide. Our guide is quite a comedian. Over the two days, I discover that he is a good guide who wants his charges to learn about his country. He is very straightforward in his story and information telling. Plus, he has a great sense of humor.

We start at a market to pick up food for lunch and the rest of the trip. The market contains a wonderful array of chilies and other local foods. The dark interior air of the market building is warm, rich and spicy. We re-board our van and continue to a picnic spot. There are several other truckloads of tourists starting their treks. Our communal lunch consists of fruit and fried rice. A local entrepreneur sells Coca-Cola. Then off we go, starting at a National Park. The park has a series of graphic signs on one tree to let you know all the things you cannot do in the park; no fires, no litter, no guns, no picking flowers and no drumming. We pass a group of school kids on a three-day camping trip. They are there to learn about nature. It's a universal scene. The leaders lecture to the assembled group sitting on the grass in front of them. Laughter erupts. It's wonderful to be in the great outdoors. I am glad the trek is through a controlled area and that Thailand thinks to preserve its land.

The countryside is beautiful, green everywhere with bamboo and lots of lush tropical plants. We visit hot springs bubbling up 90 degrees Celsius from the ground. Downstream, it is cool enough our put our feet in. Others in various levels of undress lounge in the curing sulfurous warm water. Our stop here is brief, we've got a long trek in front of us. We march up a very long steep hill. Ouch. My heart pounds, I'm in okay shape, but not fit enough to easily take a huge climb like this. Eventually, we all make it to the top and keep going. We walk through the afternoon, past wonderful vistas. We are told that Burma is off in the distant mountains. We stop briefly in a small Karen tribe village. Seven families live here. It is quiet. Three children watch us from the doorstep of their house built on stilts. The chickens and other animals live underneath. Our group continues onward, we want to get to the village where we will sleep before it gets dark. Beauty is all around, butterflies, bamboo, flowers, and rich greenery. We pass a waterfall that resembles the ideal one I picture in my quiet meditations.

Eventually, we descend a steep hill. My leg muscles are shaking and aching from the unaccustomed hills. We cross a stream on a wobbly bridge to our evening's destination. The village is in a lovely setting by the stream. We take our evening "bath" in the chilly water as the daylight fades, refreshed after the days hike. It feels cold when the sun goes down so we put on warm clothes and relax. The trek leader and locals prepare our dinner. It's a good group, nice to talk to. Dinner is rice with veggies and pineapple, tasty. Our guide tells us stories about the area and customs of the people. He really wants us to have an understanding of this world. We hear about opium problems of one tribe and how the King of Thailand is developing schools and education programs for remote villages. The guide has a great sense of humor and lots of fun laughing at his own jokes. He enjoys watching his trek customers doing strange things.

 

A table, a chair, and a gecko on the wall in an "American" style coffee shop.

The creature comforts here are minimal. We spend the night, all of us, in one large room of a local house on stilts. The floor is very hard, the air is very cold, the others shuffle and move and snort their way through the night. We are burrowed in borrowed sleeping bags under and on top of wool blankets. I don't even want to think about what bugs are living in the bedding. Morning does come, complete with crowing roosters, grunting pigs, buffalo mooing and the thump thump of rice being thrashed. We emerge, rumpled and full of aches. Tea is being boiled on the fire. Hard-boiled eggs and rice make up our breakfast. None of us really slept much and we compare nighttime survival stories as we wake up. I sure am glad it's only one night of roughing it.

After breakfast, we pack up and continue on our way. We hike for about 45 minutes past mists on mountains and through more jungle and bamboo. We arrive in camp where we are to meet up with elephants for the continuation of our adventure! While we wait, tribal women, dressed in colorful local costumes, aggressively sell jewelry and other trinkets. The price of the goods includes permission to take their photo.

Traci and I climb a ladder to get onto our elephant. Down the river we lumber. Wow. Perched on the beasts' shoulders in a not so comfortable seat, we stroll along the banks and then for a while in the river. It's rocking and lots of fun. One of those kid-like activities that makes us all grin and take lots of pictures of each other.

The elephant ride ends. We sort ourselves out, back on two legs and solid ground. The adventure continues. The next stage of our journey is on bamboo river rafts. They hold together, sort of. Local builders specialize in making the rafts. Over time the rafts have become more expensive because the bamboo close to the river is sparse so the builders need to travel further to get bamboo for the rafts. Bringing old rafts of used bamboo back up river is too difficult.

The group is divided. Our belongings and weight are distributed evenly on two flat rafts that are basically lengths of bamboo tied together with bamboo rope. After a brief intro and instructions in how to stand, lean and paddle, we begin drifting down the river. We are trying to be coordinated and not get too wet. The two women from Hong Kong are on a raft with Traci and I. They call loudly "right-side" or "left-side" to help the raft polers know which way to steer. One of the Dutch fellows falls in when we hit a rough patch of water. Our combined weight and the limitations of the bamboo raft have us marginally floating. Our feet stand in water. We are all varying amounts of wet. It's an accident waiting to happen. Fortunately nothing does and we drift downstream. I am starving, it is mid-afternoon and we haven't had lunch. Grrr goes both my stomach and my mind. Finally, we get to the end, have some lunch and then a two-hour ride back to Chaing Mai. It's so nice to be back in the land of flush toilets and comfortable beds.

Sunday, January 25, 1998

We are tired after the trek but glad for the wonderful experience. After a nice breakfast, we go on a shopping walk through town. I manage to get many things that I really like, fabric, costumes and even a hat. The tribal costumes embroidered handwork and intricate weaving appeals to me. Chaing Mai is a crafts region. The town has adapted well to the notion of commerce and tourism. The night market is filled with dolls, embroidery, fabric, pillow covers, ethnic clothing, modern t-shirts and more. Shopping is not limited to evening, there are lots of little shops open during the day too. But at night, sellers set up tables, pull out boxes and bags of merchandise. Everything is set out under bare bulb lamps. Tourists cruise the streets looking for souvenirs, bargains and other collectibles. My stomach is tied up, from strange food and the self-inflicted traumas associated with bargaining and buying. I know I'll ship it home, but my frugal self wonders, analyzes and ponders each purchase. I feel like the big American shopper, driven to shop and buy buy buy. I'm a product of a culture dedicated to consumption. These folks are trying to make a living, that's okay. Still I wonder, what will I do with all this stuff?

The buying dilemma drifts with me the entire trip. I return home to twelve boxes shipped from various points on the trip. It is wonderful to unwrap and see each treasure. In the end, I get a lot, but not too much. Each item is special. My American-ness also makes me aware that other countries try to mimic the merchandising that we do so well. Do malls and logos and fast food restaurants bring these countries into modern times? I wonder.

Bargaining is standard practice in many of the places I visit. As a white faced American, the prices are automatically inflated, often doubled or tripled. The dilemma is to find the best middle ground, enjoy the experience and not get totally ripped off. The disparity between our financial situations is tremendous, I want to help the locals but not insult them. It's a fine line to walk, to remain playfully competitive and keep some common sense.

Monday, January 26, 1998

Time for rest, system overload. We sign up for an afternoon tour and spend the morning hanging out. The Superbowl is on CNN, how very strange. I call home, all is well. The tour takes us on a nice drive to a hilltop temple. There are wonderful views all around. Chaing Mai is a special place. I think it's been more developed lately with Holiday Inns and other international hotels meeting the comfort needs of international travelers. Even so, the view a short distance from town is lovely. I'd like to return and get to know more of Thailand, off the tourist trail.

Our circuit of the temple includes climbing steps, looking at vistas, ringing bells and seeing Buddha statues. The return path from the temple conveniently passes a "Jade Factory". They are well set up to welcome tour groups. We are ushered in, seated in an air conditioned (ah!) room, given a cold soda, and shown a video all about jade. We learn how it is smuggled from Burma; pictures show us the nighttime excavations and gun-toting smugglers. After this, we are taken to the workshop area where we can see artist's carving and creating masterpieces of art in jade; everything from statues to jewelry. Each visitor has a special escort that follows you through the shop. Jade, gems and jewelry glitter in their cases. The selling is fast and furious, lingering under a thin vale of Thai gentility. I succumb, and find myself bargaining and buying a pair of earrings. They are special, a treat, I tell myself; a good deal!

Our tour continues back down the hill to factories, a silk factory, a ceramics factory. I am very interested to see how the silk is woven, the ceramics made. Some production is done at the "tourist" factories. I imagine more is produced at different locations. Of course, the highlight of each factory tour is the lavish store and display areas. There are many beautiful things properly priced for the tour bus visitors. I don't get anything in the silk place; there is a Thai Silk store three miles from my home in California. They have similar things at equivalent prices. This presents another dilemma of worldwide shopping. Americans are so good at traveling, importing and merchandising that it is difficult to find anything unique from another country. Often stores back home carry the same trinkets for similar prices.

Factories closed, we return to our hotel. Traci and I rest for a while then go to a bookstore. I buy textile books and a small cookbook. Our next stop is to locate a place for dinner. We find good food behind the night market, observing our fellow diners for entertainment. The "scene" at night is a mix of tourists, boy/girl cruising and family outings. There is a colorful blend of smells, sounds, people, and produce. We wander and shop. Later we part company and continue solo journeys amidst stuff and lights and people and sounds and smells that make up a night market in a tropical climate. We meet back at the hotel. I bring ice cream, Traci has found strawberries and banana pancakes. We enjoy our treats, compare purchases and manage to fall asleep.

Tuesday, January 27. 1998

It's our last day in Chaing Mai. We get up, breakfast and pack. I gather my purchases and hire a tuk-tuk driver for errands. The first stop is the packing place to box up fabric, books and souvenirs. Everything goes by boat to America, will the stuff make it? Shipping is definitely better than lugging things, especially books, around for the next four months. One box weighed in at 17 kilos the other 5 kilos. After paying for packing, I take the boxes to the post office to weigh, pay and go through customs declarations. Then as a last treat to myself, I go back to the celedon pottery "factory" we visited yesterday. I'd thought about it during last night's waking hours. Okay, I like pottery a lot, this trip is also about learning and abundance and enjoying the beauty that I am seeing. So, that translates to getting more of the pottery I find so beautiful. The factory store will pack and ship everything. All is charged to the credit card, no problem! (Everything made it, no breakage. Each piece was triple wrapped in bubble wrap, newspaper and cardboard then placed in a Styrofoam lined box.)

My morning errands complete, the tuk-tuk takes me back to the hotel. Traci and I have a quick sandwich lunch by the hotel pool and then we are off to catch our plane back to Bangkok. The usual joys of air travel. A cab to the hotel, we're tired, the city is so busy and noisy. We decide to try a different hotel than before in Bangkok, it's better but feels strange to me. The hotel is located in a market section of town, there are people and stores and cars and commerce and busy-ness everywhere. There are a mix of clients in the hotel from all over the world. I feel overloaded with sounds, sights, and smells.

 

This street vendor in Bangkok sells grilled bananas. Nearby vendors have sauted bugs for sale.

Wednesday, January28. 1998

While Traci has a last look at Jim Thompson Fabric, I visit the building filled with computer stores. There are shops with racks of pirated software CDs. Thousand dollar computer software applications can be purchased for a few dollars. Technology makes the theft of making identical copies easy. Software companies loose millions of dollars revenue but many economies can't afford software at regular prices. In a way these illegal copies affect me, I have worked for some of the companies being ripped off. Less revenue for them can mean less work for me.

I move on to the more mundane clothes shopping. I'm looking for a dressier outfit. Traci and I are going to the Orient Hotel for her final evening here. In the afternoon, we stop at the tailor in our first hotel to pick up the outfit being made for Traci. It is still not quite right, a disappointment. Oh well, Traci knows how to sew and fix the problems.

We get dressed and make our way back to the Orient Hotel for the evening dinner performance. The setting is special, we sit by the window and watch the lights along the river. The food is spicy and delicious The grace and beauty of Thai dancers in brilliant costumes entertains us. The evening ends too soon. We are back in our hotel room and Traci packs to go home.

Sleep is a temporary thing. Traci has to leave at 3am to get to the airport in time for her morning flight. I am sad that she is going, nervous about resuming solo travel. I feel anxious about being lonely. Figuring out what to do next and not having someone to share with. It's the trauma of a change.

Thursday, January 29, 1998

It was worse before Traci left, but by morning my anxiety fades. Gradually I'll figure out the next stages of my journey. It's the first day back on my own. I miss having a buddy to share things with, to talk with. I hope Traci makes it home okay and that it's not raining in Santa Cruz.

I sign up for a tour. It's a good way to see something new and hold off loneliness. The bus picks me up at the hotel and drops a group of us off at a pier. We board a boat and move slowly upriver. We are going north to Ayutthaya. The Bangkok bustle gives way to fishing villages and rural countryside. We pass beautiful temples, their gilded spires flash in the morning sun. I sit in front on a small upper deck. Most of my boat voyage is a solitary experience watching the world glide by. The tour director's voice crackles through the boat loudspeakers. I understand parts of it. He repeats his name, where we are going and "ladies and gentlemen" a lot.

We are going to Ayutthaya, 80 km north of Bangkok. It was the former capital of the Thai kingdom. All that is left is acres of ruins. In 1767 the Burmese destroyed what was once a wealthy glittering center of trade and culture. It must have been an awe-inspiring place. Now it is quiet. We walk through brick ruins, past lines of Buddha statues, almost all of them without heads. Our tour guide works hard to improve his English by listening and talking to his tourist customers. His singsong speech patterns are wonderful. His mastery of the language is carefully learned from books and tapes.

"And now Victor your tour guide is going to tell you briefly about the history of this beautiful complex, Ladies and Gentlemen. This used to be the most beautiful Buddhist temple in the Ayutthaya period. It was the first Buddhist temple that was built in the Ayutthaya period. Ladies and Gentlemen, Ayutthaya was the second capital city of the Thai people in the old days. It was made by King Ramathibodi the first. He was a great king of the Thai people in that period. He made these complexes in the year 1350, over 600 years ago, Ladies and Gentlemen. He was the one who made these complexes. These complexes was a Buddhist temple Ladies and Gentlemen, the others were palaces and banewatts, Ladies and Gentlemen, these complex was called Wat Ratburana ….

"… in the year 1767 a large number of Burmese soldiers came inside this complex. They attacked this capital city in that year and they destroyed everything in these complexes Ladies and Gentlemen including these Buddhist temples. To have a head of Buddhist image chopped off was a victory over another kingdom in that period, Ladies and Gentlemen. Those soldiers were Buddhist. Why they chopped off the heads of Buddha images Ladies and Gentlemen? It was a question for every tourist in Thailand, Ladies and Gentlemen. It was because those Burmese soldiers were hypocrites. They were not Buddhists on the inside of their hearts, they were Buddhist by names. If they were Buddhist, they wouldn't have chopped off the heads of Buddha images inside this complex, Ladies and Gentlemen. All of these Buddhist Buddha images were chopped off by the Burmese soldiers in the year 1767…."

We stop at various temples and palaces. In its pinnacle this must have been a magnificent city. I am saddened by the ruins. War brings such destruction. I'd prefer a world where everyone gets along, respects each other's beliefs and lets live. But somehow the grass is always greener in the neighbors' yard, or they said something silly and the next thing you know someone is chopping heads off Buddha statues and the place is a ruin.

A bus returns to Bangkok. I am trying to book travel to Bali at my hotel. It is too late to make arrangements today so I book a tour of the Royal Palace and then go shopping. It feels okay to stay in Bangkok longer. In spite of the noise, pollution and congestion, there is so much to see here. My shopping brings success. I find two dresses and have fun window shopping in the fancy shops. The western world invades Thailand in the form of a Planet Hollywood and McDonalds. I get back to my hotel room and try to sleep. I worry about the next steps of the trip; where to stay where to go, nervous about arrangements and the return to solo travel. It gets lonely. I repeat the mantra, it will all work out some how. That's the point, isn't it? But it's a pain, I need to change hotels because this one is booked for tomorrow. Many of the locals are on vacation because it is Chinese New Year and the end of Ramadan.

Friday, January 30, 1998

A long day, I'm up early for the tour of the Royal Palace. It's an elaborate series of buildings decorated with rich ornamentation. The textures, tiles, statues, shapes are wonderful. They shimmer in the bright sunlight. Recent restorations must have been very costly. I wonder about the cost to the people as well. The shapes, colors and contrasts are interesting. I'm in photo recording mode and snap away with my point and shoot camera. Some of the mosaics would be great to have at home, if I could only afford the materials and workers to create them. The Royal Palace contains the usual collection of tourists, cameras, guides and picture taking. We look from here to there as our guide directs our focus. A marching band goes by, it's a changing of the guard. We rush to watch the impromptu ceremony. Children strut behind the guards dressed in their fancy uniforms.

After the tour, I am dropped off at a local cyber café for my computer communication fix. The world is a smaller place. Adventurers need to push further to escape the world of phones, televisions and "progress". I finally sort out travel plans to Bali and get a room for tonight in another hotel.

My oh my, I did okay with the changed hotel. Top floor, the 89^th floor, has a fantastic view. Scarce rooms forced me to pay more, but what fun, and a great upgrade to boot. The joys of luxury include a deluxe room and bathroom. I wander around the shopping mall attached to the hotel. Then back the room, I order room service, turn on the TV and luxuriate. Tomorrow, I rough it, today I'm the queen!

Saturday, January 31, 1998

I like Thailand very much, it is a great place and I've had a wonderful time. Amazing how things all worked out after Traci left. I worried about getting out of Bangkok because of the traffic and noise. The two tours I took and the shopping was fun. I am coming to terms with spending and how I want to travel on this trip. The bad news is I had to change hotels, the good news is I ended up in just the comfort that I needed.

My early morning taxi has a speeding driver. The one-hour ride is made in 20 minutes. Minimal traffic and an expressway make the difference. I wander around the airport, phoning home with my remaining Baht and finish a few last minute postcards. Then on to the plane to Bali!