First in a Mini-Series. August 31, 2006
Posted by gurfheffalump in Travel Tantrums and Tirades.1 comment so far
After a grueling train ride, I’ve arrived in Bangkok once again. But this time, there isn’t much to write about because I’m just here taking care of some errands, so, I’ve started this series out of boredom. I mean I love to travel, and I love talking shit about stuff of all sorts, so this combines the best of both worlds for me.
Travel Tantrums and Tirades- First in a Series.
I know on my quotes page, I have a quote that says something like- Travel isn’t glamorous, something to that effect. I want to say that this doesn’t have to be true, because it can be. Some people can afford their private planes, or even first class can be considered glam. Some people can stay at the Hiltons, Sheratons, Shangra-La’s, and so on. Some people are rock stars and well, rock stars travel and have a girl in every port, and that’s glamorous.
But as for the way I’ve been traveling, known as backpacking, this kind of travel isn’t. Basically, for a third of the time, I’ve been living like the equivalent of an upper class bum by U.S. standards. Again, I’m not complaining, because this still isn’t the bare-bones type of travel some kids are on. For the most part I get hot water and beer! Hot water, ladies and gentlemen, is a luxury. You might not think you can have a cold shower, but when you hit that magically disturbing point of filth, you’d be surprised what you’d shower in. I’ve actually showered in water that wasn’t coming out quite clear; it was more ‘muddy’ than usual because the pipes were stuffed up.
I’ve slept on bed sheets that obviously hasn’t been changed since the last hair-shedding beast rented the room. I know this because my hair is very short and black. On a single bed I once found long strands of blond hair, 3 inch black hair, and the notorious curly party hairs. Actually, having your sheets clean without stains (these are really common), or dried blood, and a pillow case that doesn’t smell like it’s been marinated in drool, is also a luxury. More often than not, the bed in the just checked-into room will have one or more of the above ingredients. Once, I even stayed in a room that reeked of urine so bad, it was a relief to step into the shared bathroom.
The bathrooms deserve a whole new blog on their own, but I’ll simplify it and say that I’ve flushed my own feces with a pale of water more times than I can remember. Most of the bathrooms I go into, I absolutely WILL NOT enter without shower sandals. I’ve even shitted in ‘toilets’ where if you looked down, you can see straight through to the ground. One particular bathroom was so dirty and dingy, I was scared of getting infections by merely walking in because I had open wounds from my scooter accident.
For the past month or so, my body has been the Bellagio Buffet for bed bugs and different kinds of mosquitoes. They just can’t seem to get enough! Sometimes, I’m covered in bites and swellings in all the exposed parts of my body (it could be worse I suppose). I’ve gotten used to sleeping with geckos and other slimy things crawling on the ceiling above me just like I accept that I’ll be paying the blood tax that will inevitably be collected, no matter how much bug repellent I put on.
I’ve walked incredibly long distances because I refuse to overpay by a couple of cents (literally a few cents, but everything is relative and I don’t want to feel like I’m being ripped off) and bought things for many times than what it was worth (again, I hate being ripped off!). Battling the very constant stream of characters that want to squeeze a few dollars out of you each day will wear you down, no matter how much you think you can take.
Probably due to me being such a fat ass and my love for food, I’ll eat slightly more threatening and questionable foods than most. Being on the budget, and eating in budget restaurants and food stalls in streets most of the time, I’ve been completely desensitized to finding hairs in my noodles and bugs in the fried rice. Maybe this is because I’m a dirty ass too.
But all this was, in retrospect, fun! As well as funny. It was a more raw experience. My take is, if it’s good enough for the locals, its good enough for me. I mean, anyone can have the same sterilized experience of fresh white towels and rose pedal baths in every country. But I don’t have the means or the desire to travel like that. I much prefer the occasional bug in my food and the ubiquitous dog shit I have to step over on my side walk. Again, not complaining, just saying that this shit ain’t so glamorous. But it sure is an adventure.
Laos Reflection August 26, 2006
Posted by gurfheffalump in Laos.2 comments
I’m thinking that in a few days I’ll be headed back to Bangkok (I really dread going back to Bangkok now).
Laos has been an unforgettable experience. Laos was humbling and I was left with a sense of awe at the same time. The country is stunning; it’s only lately that Laos opened it’s borders to tourism, so it’s probably easier to leap over the tourist cushion now, but inevitably the main cities will turn into a Disneyland version of Laos, where locals get ready to put on a parade for the fresh batch of incoming tourists. I’m glad I came when I did.
I can’t say enough about the people in this country as well. They seem to have this calm and honesty about them. These are the same people who have every right in my book to be bitter, tired, and angry because of their turbulent history, but from what I could see, they are the opposite. There are many smiles in this town, many hellos, many warm feelings.
There are also three people who I will always be linked to my Laos experience. I’ve been traveling around Laos with Jeremy, a lawyer from NY, and Steve and Luke, two guys that just finished 3 years in Japan doing JET. Jeremy was my roomie most of the time. At first, I was hesitant to room with I person I barely knew, sometimes you just gotta have faith in humanity and believe not everyone will rape you, remove your kidneys when you’re sleeping, or steal from you. And with chance, sometimes you’ll get bit in the ass, but I’ve come to believe that most times, that chance will pay off like hitting your number on the roulette table. Jeremy was a cool dude.
It was refreshing hanging with these guys. Normally, when a group of guys get together the conversation will almost always end in the thorough discussion of sports, cars, how much you want to bang a certain chick, or referring to their penis’ as another member of the discussion. But these guys were funny, worldly, sensitive, cultural, and eye-opening.
And lastly, but certainly not the least important aspect of Laos, is the food. Oh yeah. Almost every meal was accompanied by Beer Laos, a great, crisp tasting beer. There was one restaurant where we visited at least 5 times because the noodles were extraordinary, and our visits got to a point where the owner remembered us because we were the fat foreigners who ordered two plates per person. The first bite of the food and the sky opens up and you know your life is fucken good at this moment.
I love Laos.
Luang Prabang, Laos August 25, 2006
Posted by gurfheffalump in Laos.comments closed
For a few days now, I’ve been in Luang Prabang, the ancient capitol of Laos. The city is beautiful, situated where the Mekong River and the Nam Khan River meet. The French colonial architecture is everywhere and this whole country is absolutely stunning.
A few days ago, I just took the most breathtaking road trip of my life. I rented a Ford Ranger with the three guys I met at the Laos border and drove about 8 hours to Luang Prabang. We rode through Laos’ pristine mountains which could be best described as a photographer’s wet dream. The mountains are pristine and untouched. As you drive further into the mountains, they become topped with fog. Along the road, there are miles and miles of rice patties on end, often with one farmer working on the crops with a single straw and wood shack in the middle of the field. We were driving through the stuff postcards and national geographic is made of.
After a few hours of driving, the Hmong Villages start to appear. Most of these villages are scattered on curvy mountain roads, no more than 20 “buildings” per village. Their houses are made of wood and dried vegetation, all beautifully braded into walls and doors. The houses are built on stilts, which is really an amazing sight because some of the houses are literally hanging off the cliffs. In these villages, we saw goats, cows, chickens, naked babies playing in mud, and even a child grabbing a live rodent by the tail, trying to sell it to passer bys.
Once in awhile we also passed men dressed in military uniforms holding AK-47s, staring at us intently. Some even tried to signal us to stop, but they looked like off-duty officers trying to take advantage of some stupid foreign kids (if they were officers at all) so we decided to ignore their signals and kept going. Believe it or not, we even saw boys no more than 12 years old, carrying these AK-47’s around.
On our trip, we picked up a family who was carrying bags of stuff that looked like potatoes or taro. There was a little girl, about 8 or 9, carrying a bag as well. Seeing how far they had to walk and feeling how heaving their sacks were when we helped them throw it in the back of our car, you really have no choice but to let your heart break and realize how much of a lucky bastard you’ve really been all your life. Later in the trip, we also picked up a guy who hitchhiked on the back of our pickup for about 100 kilometers.
This country is absolutely beautiful, and I hope it stays that way. However, I’m unfortunately convinced that this is wishful thinking as I already see the ill-effects tourism seeping in the cities and eroding away the peaceful way of life.
The country is also beautiful in a completely different but even more enchanting way: the people. The people here are extremely poor, but they are happy. I don’t know what it is, but they seem happier than most people I know and we are always welcomed with a smile, or a sa-ba-di (hello) as we pass by. There’s no hassles or difficulty, just beautiful, beautiful smiles along the Mekong.
Vientiane, Laos August 22, 2006
Posted by gurfheffalump in Laos.add a comment
I made it to Laos. I’ve been hanging out with an English guy and two Americans I met while crossing the border. So far, it’s been pretty fun.
Vientiane is the capitol of Laos, but it’s not the type of capitol you’re picturing. You might be picturing a city with skyscrapers and new buildings and highways. Nope. It’s actually really funny, because this city resembles a mega-village rather than a capitol.
Laos is a poor country that’s suffered through a pretty unstable history. It’s technically a democracy but it also has a communist government (don’t ask me how that works). When you walk through the streets, you can see the French influence. Certain blocks somewhat resemble the architecture in New Orleans. But like I said, it’s a poor country and there are potholes in the major streets the size of soccer balls (and that deep as well). Sometimes, you have to watch where you step on the sidewalk because their sewer system is often exposed from cracked sidewalks; It’s as if there are septic-tank tourist traps all over the place. But with all that said, it’s an awesome place to spend a few days. Why?
a) The food is GOOD. Through sharing borders with neighbors as well as being ruled for the better half of their recent historical memory, their cuisine has definitely been influenced, for the better. Lovely French, Vietnamese, Chinese, Indian food. Don’t plan on losing any weight here because it’s also cheap.
b) You don’t get hassled like you do in other places. People will still try to sell their items, but you don’t feel so much like prey here. And when you’ve been in the middle of countless cross-hairs of vendors, tuk tuk drivers, and hawkers, this is incredibly refreshing. You can actually walk down the street in peace!
I think I’ll stay a day or two here and make my way North. Sorry, no photos yet because I forgot my charger.
Writing Sad Things August 20, 2006
Posted by gurfheffalump in Thailand.add a comment
I’m not totally sure how to start writing this post. No doubt it will be hard to follow and ultimately, sad.
Since my last post, Nui and I went and had dinner with his friend Annie’s house. It took about 30 minutes on motorbike to get there. Along the way, we passed by water buffalos, snakes, cows, and even baby elephants on the streets (this is a sad story on it’s own…).
Annie knows how to cook. I had a delicious Vietnamese meal with a houseful of her relatives. I loved that there were so many little children, uncles and aunts, and other random old relatives all living under the same roof. We also slept over, with all the other little kids, on mats in the living room.
The next day, Nui and I got a few beers and ate the left over pizza from the previous day’s lunch. Since the day I met him, Nui has always been a joker, or as he put it, ‘ a nonsense guy.’ All that changed this particular evening.
I have no idea how I should write about what Nui shared with me, but I’m just going to do it. The more we drank, the more restless and morose he seemed to get. Nui is typically always jovial, but yesterday he wasn’t. He started off telling me that he might be gay. At first, I thought this was another one of his jokes because I’ve never seen him serious. I quickly realized he wasn’t joking. He went on to tell me that he had a 30 year old friend, someone he should probably call his boyfriend. As we drank more, he corrected himself and said he WAS gay, the maybe’s or if’s weren’t there anymore.
The minute he told me this, my own thoughts went crazy. I was wondering, “was this why he was being so friendly, what were his motivations, etc.” I thought about it and I still believe he is the same good person.
Nui also told me before this night that he didn’t know who is father was because he left his mother when he was not yet born. His mother was someone he loved very much because he spent a lot of time with her but she also died. His sister, he told me, also died of leukemia.
As the night went on, he told me he lied to me about his sister, she actually died of AIDS. Then he apologized for lying. By this point, everything he said came out in the tone approaching a whisper.
He kept saying he was a bad person. He used to be a druggie. He said many people believe he was the one who killed his mother because she worried about him so much (she died of cancer).
The story that really got to me was that when his mother died, his sister was the one to tell him. Still being high on drugs, he calmly answered, “ok, I’ll go tomorrow.” When his friend asked who called, he told his friend he just found out his mother died. His friend yelled at him to go see her NOW, but he responded by saying that he was too lazy, so he’ll do it tomorrow. He was unaffected… totally unaffected by the news.
Now, years after his mother’s passing, he deeply regrets his actions and desperately wants to ask his mother if she is happy with him being gay, if it is ok. I told him mothers usually just want you to be happy.
With all the people he lost, he still has 2 brothers who are married and have families. He is the only one who doesn’t, and feels sad he will never have a family. He says he feels homeless.
As we got more and more drunk, at one point in the night he muttered under his breath, ‘maybe I like you…’ I heard him perfectly but I pretended I didn’t hear him. I didn’t know what to say so I just talked about something trivial and stupid- about how my scars still hurt from my motorbike accident.
At the end of the night, I wanted to go but he didn’t want to be left alone. I remember thinking he is scared of being lonely. He kept thanking me for being his friend. Finally, I was able to leave and the first thing I did was call my mom on my cell phone (I didn’t get through).
At first, I felt I shouldn’t write this because it would somehow be rude to him or that I would be exploiting his trust. However, I feel like my intentions are not to exploit. That night was part of my travels and I believe it’s important for me to write and process my thoughts. I don’t know what more to say except it was hard writing about the experience, but it was much harder hearing them, being hit from nowhere by them.
