Fruit vendor at the Damnoen Saduak Floating Market
I may be back in the USA, but there are still a couple more travel blogs including the craziest thing to ever happen on a trip…
After 18 whirlwind days in Vietnam, Carrie and I headed back to Thailand for a week of relaxing, seeing some final sights that we missed the first two times around…and for a whole lotta shopping. Highlights included a train ride on the Death Railroad over the Bridge Over the River Kwai, a floating market, clubbing in Bangkok, driving more than 100 miles on a motorcycle to see amazing waterfalls and running into our friend from Phuket. Oh, and then there was the naked Thai thief that broke into our hotel room at 3am while we were on the porch that Carrie caught in the act and that I jumped into the River Kwai to chase after. But more on that later…
One of the Erawan waterfalls in the Erawan National Park
Based on the recommendation of Claire, our Scottish friend that we keep on traveling with, we went straight from the Bangkok airport to the bus station to head to Kanchanaburi, a small town on the River Kwai. We only meant to spend a couple of days there, but the laid back atmosphere and our sweet hotel room that floated on the river and had a porch with chairs and a hammock extended our stay.
Kanchanaburi itself is a sprawling town but the touristic area is limited to a long street of bars, restaurants, shops, hotels and food cart vendors. It was walking down this street on our second morning that a guy on a motorcycle stopped and said, “can I say hello?” Not wanting to deal with whatever he was selling, Carrie and I ignored him and kept walking. It wasn’t until he repeated his question and took off his helmet and sunglasses that we realized it was our couchsurfing friend Tut from Phuket. He had just quit his job at the timeshare company and was making his way to South Korea. What a small world!
Me, Carrie and Tut at the Erawan National Park
Along with Tut, we spent that evening at the night market where we wandered around sampling lots of foods and looking at all the junk for sale. The three of us also treated ourselves to massages: Tut and I got our feet done while Carrie got a full oil massage from a Lady Boy. The foot massage was quite nice and the masseuse used some form of dull pointed stick to access pressure points and kneed out knots that I had never experienced before. Very relaxing!
Waking up early the next morning, we rented a motorcycle and, with Carrie on the back, followed Tut to the Erawan National Park: home of a beautiful seven-level waterfall. Ranging in size and force, each level of the waterfall cascaded into beautiful blue pools perfect for swimming or other activities. One of the levels had a large mossy rock doubled as a water slide; we spent a lot of time there. Another highlight was swimming under a fall to get a massage from the water beating on our shoulders.
We could have spent hours at each level were it not for the little fish that bit the dead skin off of everyone’s feet when we stood still in the water for more than a second. More startling than painful, it still ensured that we didn’t stay at any one fall for too long. Fortunately, the crowds were not so bad and the higher up we went the fewer people we saw.
Shaky wooden bridges are common on the Death Railway
After saying goodbye to Tut, our next outing was a ride on the Death Railroad, which was named because of all the POW slave laborers who died building it during World War II. The trip started by going over the Bridge Over the River Kwai, which was made most famous by the old movie staring Obi Wan Kenobi himself, Alec Guiness. Carrie and I tried to watch it a couple of times before our ride but never made it past 10 minutes.
Death Railway chugged along for more than two hours, passing by streams, mountains and large caverns that had been dynamited out by the POWs. At some points the side of the train was literally inches from the face of the jagged cliff. We crossed a handful of rickety wood bridges over deep chasms and even went through a few tunnels. When the train reached the destination, we quickly hopped out and got a bus back to Kanchanaburi, finding it just a bit silly that on one of our few days of not moving around we spent our time on two unnecessary forms of transportation.
Most of the rest of our time in Kanchanaburi was spent relaxing on our porch, wandering the main street, catching up on some much needed writing and photo sorting and eating lots of meals from an delicious and cheap local restaurant where we befriended the entire staff. My favorite part was playing paper airplanes with their two year old daughter while waiting for amazing pad thais and curries.
The porch at the River Guesthouse we were sitting on when the naked Thai thief broke in
My favorite part of our time in Kanchanaburi was our room, which literally floated on two canoes on the shores of the River Kwai. The entire River Guest House was built over the river with wooden walkways connecting the rooms with the reception area and the entrance. One of these walkways led up to a little patio in front of our door with water on all other sides. Our room was pretty small, but it also had a porch out back with two comfy chairs, a hammock and an area to either dip feet into the river or to jump right in.
Carrie and I spent countless hours relaxing on the porch, watching the river flow and boats come and go. It is one of my most tranquil memories of the trip. However, that tranquility was shattered on our third night there. After spending the late evening watching a movie on the laptop on the porch, we brushed our teeth and returned to our chairs to gaze out at the full moon reflecting in the water at 3am.
Earlier that evening, Carrie had done a little tidying up and put our take out boxes, along with some other trash, in a plastic bag and hung it on the front door knob. This random act of cleanliness is the only reason for what happened next.
Follow the numbers with the story. 1 is the front patio where he entered the room, 2 is where we were sitting before running in from 2 through the room back out to 3, at which point I jumped into the river following the path of the arrow chasing the thief. He made it up to the walkway while I was halfway through the arrow, ending my chase
As Carrie was closer to the screen door separating the porch from our bedroom, it was she who heard the garbage bag rustling. At first she ignored it, but after it continued for a few seconds she got up to see what was going on. To her surprise, a long haired, tall and completely naked Thai man was standing in our bedroom. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? GET OUT OF OUR ROOM,” she screamed from the porch side of the screen door.
As Carrie remembers it, the man stared at her for a solid second or two looking completely startled, dazed and out of it. Then, he bolted out the front door. While this was happening, all over the course of a few seconds, I had quickly jumped out of my chair and into the room. Carrie had already run into the room and out the front door where the naked Thai thief had jumped off of the patio and was escaping in the river. “He’s getting away! Go after him,” Carrie yelled.
With no idea what he had stolen and no clue what I would do if I actually caught him, pure instinct and adrenalin took control and I jumped over the banister into the waist high river chasing after him. I gave a good run, screaming on the top of my lungs the whole time. “Stop! Thief! Help!” Unfortunately, by the time I made it halfway across the river to the nearest walkway he had already jumped out and was sprinting up a hill next to a house.
A reenactment of me chasing the naked Thai thief
I continued chasing, but realized that there was no chance of catching him as I was still in the water and he probably knew the area in the dark like the back of his hand. At one point towards the end of the chase I felt what I imagined to be a human limb brushing against my leg. I immediately began thrashing around, in case it was what I thought it was, and by the time I realized that it was nothing there was nothing else to do other than get out of the water and return to the room.
During the entire chase, both Carrie and I were screaming on the top of our lungs. Anyone who has ever been to a Mets game with me knows, I can make a whole lot of noise. However, not a single light came on and none of the staff left their room to see what happened. In retrospect, we should have banged on the door of the hotel owner until he woke up…but really, what good would it have done at that point.
The inside of our room at the River Guesthouse...the thief made it as far as the fan before Carrie startled him and he ran
The only thing the thief had managed to nab was Carrie’s little digital camera, which was almost dead anyway after eight months of traveling anyway. Right next to the camera’s last position was my laptop filled with tons of non-backed up photos as well as bags with passports, money and DSLR cameras on the floor nearby. Thank god he didn’t grab any of those!
Had we woken up the owner, all that would have happened is that we would have had to deal with the police and file pointless paperwork. They would never get the guy, the camera would never be retrieved and the deductible on my traveler’s insurance was more than the value of the camera. In the end, all that was lost was two days of photos. Super bummer, but it could have been way worse.
Our chairs and TV used to block the front door from future robberies at 3am at the River Guesthouse
What we did do, however, was take every chair in the room and pile them, along with the TV, in front of the front door. While all the other doors in the room had bolts that could be locked from inside, the main entrance only had a simple push button on the knob. Did the guy pick it? Did he have a key? We had no idea, but spent the night laying in bed, not able to sleep, just waiting for him to come back with a bunch of friends.
Logically, we knew that we were in no danger and that no one was coming back, but that doesn’t stop the mind from working in overdrive. Our room was literally in the middle of nowhere and we knew that our screams would go unheard. I don’t think either of us managed to get any sleep until the sun came up that next morning.
As much as we loved that place, there was no way we could stay another night. So, after getting a couple of uneasy hours of sleep, we packed our bags and headed to reception. At least we wanted an apology and to know that the owner would put a better inside lock on the door. I had also thought it was only fair that we didn’t have to pay for the room. And so it began.
We started by asking the guest house owner, a Westerner, if he had heard our screams the night before. He replied that he was a heavy sleeper and so were all of his staff. As we then began to tell the story, he stood there listening with a big grin on his face the whole time…like he couldn’t care less. Anyone with half a brain could see that we were visibly upset and still affected by the ordeal, but he treated it as a joke. The closest to an emotion he showed was when he became defensive and said, “what do you think, that I sent him? Never! This has never happened before.” We told him that we really loved the place and wanted to stay, but that we didn’t feel safe and had to leave. He couldn’t have cared less.
Our hotel room was the building on the left. We were on the porch on the far left, the thief came in from the patio on the right
Finally, after five minutes of telling our story to his grin, I made the mistake of bringing up the money. This completely enraged him and he began yelling at us, demanding to know why we didn’t wake him up immediately to call the police. I said why, what would have been the point. He then demanded to know about my insurance but when I said it didn’t cover the camera he replied that that was my fault and not his problem. He then brought in the fact that I had bargained down the room price when we checked in (a standard practice in these parts) before yelling at me more and calling me a “cheap ugly fucking bastard.”
Entering the River Guesthouse (taken by Carrie)
When I tried to reason with him, explaining how much we liked the place but were just deeply disturbed by the incident and still wanted to recommend it to others, he replied with “do you want me to pay your fucking shrink bills back home too?” Finally, as the scene had escalated beyond anyone’s wildest dreams, we just gave them the amount due and began to walk out. This didn’t stop him from yelling more insults at us as we traversed the wooden walkway towards the exit. Not ever knowing when to quit and loving to get a rise out of people, I decided to yell back at him, “We just want you to be a decent human being.”
This final response must have sent him over the precipice to coo-cooville, as he now began to run down the walkway after me threatening to punch my face in. Not actually having any interest in hand to hand combat, I turned my back on him and walked up the steps and off his property to a final and long tirade of swears and insults.
The walkway leading up to our hotel room at the River Guesthouse
To this day, I am not sure what initially set him off. Carrie and I can only imagine that he must have other backpackers trying to scam him out of paying and he just thought that we were doing the same? But from the beginning he showed no human emotion to two people telling a harrowing story. It was all very odd. Hopefully, if he thinks it was a scam, he later saw our camera charger in the trash of the room and realized what a jerk he was.
Epilogue: Our final night in Kanchanaburi was spent in a lovely garden guest house with a little patio, one door and bolts in the inside. Still, despite the obvious safety of the room, it wasn’t until we left the town that the anxiety finally began to settle. In all of our time traveling throughout all of our trips, this was the craziest thing that ever happened. The weirdest part was that just earlier that day we had been discussing how lucky we were to have made it through yet another trip without any serious incident. I think Carrie and I must have ESP. :)
A fruits and veggies vendor takes a break to chat at the Damnoen Saduak Floating Market
The Floating Market of Damnoen Saduak is a highlight of the tourist trail through Thailand and one of the main reasons we booked one final week in the country. Boats line up to take visitors on a tour of the canals that weave their way behind and through a large neighborhood. All along the water are shops and stalls on stilts as well as hundreds of locals in canoes selling everything from fruits to hats, snacks, souvenirs, housewares and more.
For an hour, our motorboat drove us around the bustling floating market, stopping at various vendors along the way to shop for souvenirs. However, once our pilot realized that we were not actually going to buy anything, these pauses became less frequent. Instead, we got to see a slice of Thai life that was unlike anything I have ever seen before. Vendors were pretty evenly split between men and women of all ages, though my favorite were the old women who often were too busy chatting with each other across their boats to stop and try and hawk their wares.
All smiles for this female coconut vendor at the Damnoen Saduak Floating Market
Unfortunately, as the floating market it is close to Bangkok, thousands of day-trippers descended on the market by 9am. We tried make it all the way from Kanchanaburi before they arrived, but by the time we began our tour there were more tourist motorboats than actual vendor canoes. The waterways were narrow and every time a boat zipped by, all the others around it would splash around.
Boat traffic jams were frequent and the most common sight was of a Western tourist snapping a photo: not that I wasn’t amongst the guilty in this regard. In addition, the arrival of all these tourists has transformed the market into just another tourist trap trying to sell Buddha statues and other souvenirs. Gone are the days when it was frequented by locals just hopping onto their dingy for a quick trip to the veggie boat. Still, well worth a visit.
Fishing in what seems to be an open sewer in Bangkok
After our visit to the floating market, we headed back to Bangkok and to the apartment of Tom, a local who we found through Couchsurfing. As he works from home, we quickly dropped our bags off at his sweet apartment and headed out for a day of price checking and shopping at the MBK mall. Though it is called a mall, it is really a massive indoor market with more vendor stalls than actual shops and bargain prices. Needless to say, we only left because we ran out of time.
Upon returning to Tom’s place that night, we promptly headed out to check out a local market to have a delicious meal. The poor guy had been waiting for us for hours, as no taxi would use their meter to take us home (they just wanted preset and sky-high flat rates) and we had to hop on the subway, which got stuck in between stations for 20 minutes.
Dinner was great and Tom turned me on to a new version of the traditional Thai soup that I have had countless times over the months. I guess all along they could have put sweet and sour sauce in it…I just never knew to ask! Our evening concluded over a few beers back at Tom’s house where we chatted for a few hours before hitting the hay. Tom was a great host and a wonderful final encounter with Couchsurfing…for this trip at least.
Escalators at the Paragon Mall in Bangkok
The next day we woke up early and headed over to Khan San Road, which is backpacker central in Bangkok. Basically two long streets filled with bars, guesthouses, clubs, 7-Elevens and thousands of tourists, it is the first stop for most people in Thailand and a hub of activity. We found the cheapest guesthouse possible, locked our stuff up and hopped in a cab for the Chatuchak Weekend Market.
The Weekend Market was actually our first stop in Bangkok when we arrived back in April. After a few hours there we realized that we wanted to return at the end of the trip, buy an extra suitcase and go hog-wild shopping for clothes, souvenirs and other fun things at dirt cheap prices. Return we did, as we spent the entire day wandering around shopping until, before we knew it, the stalls were closing. Still, our shopping spree was not done, so we returned to the MBK mall once again before heading back to Khan San Road.
Walking around Khan San Road at night is a very unique experience. There were food vendors every five feet, drunk Westerners stumbling around, beggars, lady boys and people selling everything from teeshirts to lighters, hats and drugs. This one blind guy was led up and down the street all night singing into a microphone hanging around his neck for tips. I saw woman shoving a disabled boy with sores all over him into a stroller and trying to make him look as pathetic as possible for donations. Massage parlous and strip clubs were handing out fliers, as were the clubs and bars.
Tall buildings and shacks share the Bangkok Skyline
Really, Khan San Road is a paradise for all types of vices or sin. It is party central and a completely unique environment, hence why I wanted to experience it at least once and spend the night wandering around and taking it all in. However, it is not Bangkok. It is not Thailand. It is not anything other than an fake little fantasy world. That said, we did have a blast people watching. We also once again met up with Claire for one last evening on the town. Our destination was The Club (original name, huh?) where we joined a room full of mostly Western tourists and bad techno music and danced until the wee hours of the morning.
As our flight the next day was not until 4:30pm, we headed back to MBK for one final trip through the aisles. Needless to say, our bargaining power was lessened by the fact that we had all our bags with us and were clearly headed to the airport.
All in all, we spent 16 hours over three days shopping…which is funny considering how much I hate shopping. By the time we got to the airport to head to Hong Kong we had around 30lbs of new items. Additionally, we never made it to the Royal Palace or to a Thai boxing match, both of which were big reasons for our return to Thailand. Oh well, at least we got a ton of cool stuff!
Traffic flows outside the Chatuchak Weekend Market in Bangkok...on the left hand side of the road
It feels right to be back in a country where people drive on the left side of the road.
After Vietnam, it was a nice change to be back in Thailand where everyone is nice…even the shopkeepers. Shortly after our return I asked a cop for directions and he wrote them out in English and Thai, gave me bus schedules and even came over again to make sure I understood it all.
Perhaps the worst part of the stolen camera was remembering all the cool photos that were lost…like the ones of Carrie and I petting a baby tiger.
I drove more than 100 miles on a motorcycle in one day. It was awesome!
Carrie had an interview with Couchsurfing over Skype in an Internet cafe. How unorthodox and cool is that?!
Another bummer about losing the camera is that I use it to take notes on the go. I would put it into video mode and just record myself talking. Now I actually have to use paper and a pen.
Hats for sale on a boat at the Damnoen Saduak Floating Market
A few new motorcycle driving firsts: I drove with two other people (Carrie and Tut) on the back. That was tough. Also tough was when I took Tut to the bus station and had to balance his rolling suitcase between my legs while driving with him and his other luggage on the back. I was a bit wobbly both times, but at least I can now say I did it!
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but after 8 months and more than 20,000 pics, I am completely sick of taking photos. I can’t wait to get home and take a break.
There are bootleg 7-Eleven’s all over…like 7-Nine, 11-7, etc.
I saw two elephants during our return to Thailand. One on the streets of Bangkok by Tom’s apartment and the other being led down Khan San Road at night with his owner asking for money to take a photo.
On Khan San Road I had possibly the worst pad thai of my life. It was just noodles with soy sauce and heaps of MSG. Gross.
While I have eaten many random things on this trip, I opted against eating a roach or a maggot.
Balls of meat cook on a grill for sale in Patong, Phuket, Thailand
I am completely sick of people talking shit about Carrie and I in other languages in front of our face. Like we don’t notice when you point and laugh? Talking in Thai doesn’t cover that up, genius!
As we only had a few days in Bangkok and a lot to do, we treated ourselves to a ton of taxis.
With precious time left before returning to the USA, I gorged myself on food from ever street vendor I could find. My favorite were the bacon wrapped hot dogs on a stick for 50 cents. Mmmmm.
During our first trip to MBK mall we got a price quote on four belts. We returned on our last day with all our bags and the price had almost doubled. We even took a belt out and it was still higher than the original price. Carrie tried to reason with the woman, saying that she could give us the original price or get nothing at all. The vendor opted for not selling. I just don’t get the business logic in that.
It was the Queen’s birthday on our last night and the streets of Bangkok were lit up and photos of her were everywhere.
A holy tree next to a waterfall at the Erawan National Park
It’s fascinating to look at Thai money over the years. Every decade or so they print a new version of all bills with a new photo of the King reflecting his new age. The best are the ones from the 1940s that show the King as a child.
On the highway to the airport we were on a road with four lanes of traffic but no lane dividers painted. Somehow, traffic managed to flow smoothly.
After all our time in Thailand being surrounded by posters of the King, I must say I have much love for the man.
Everywhere we looked, people were wearing face masks to protect from diseases. In reality, it does very little to stop anything…but they are now a fashion statement.
Finally, our flight to Hong Kong was delayed by two hours (that we totally could have used shopping) and Air Asia, the cheapest airline ever that even charges for water on the flight, actually gave us each vouchers for food in the airport.
Greetings from Vietnam where, as always, I’m trying hard to get back up to date on these bloggings. Since I last wrote we have finished up Laos and Cambodia, though this entry is all about the end of our time in Thailand. Highlights include three days and two nights trekking through the remote mountains of northeast Chang Mai, a day learning to cook like a local, crossing the border into Laos and 24 hours in white robes meditating at a monastery.
Carrie and I with our packs ready to get going on day two of our trek
It was too cold to trek in India or Nepal. Too out of the way in Sri Lanka. We didn’t have enough time in Malaysia. So, when we arrived in Chang Mai, the home of trekking in Thailand, we decided to splurge and take Mr. Whiskey’s “non-touristic” three day and two night trek through the jungle.
The biggest difference between this and the standard “touristic” trek was that most places send the group to the same local villages that they have been using for nearly 30 years. The locals have adapted and show the trekkers what they want to see, but the actual culture is long gone. Also, as most visitors opt for the touristic trek, much of the three days is spent surrounded by countless other Westerners. No thanks.
Day One:
Our group started out as nine people: a French couple who fought the whole time, three other European guys, us and two local guides: Mr. Ton (the leader) and Jackie Chan (his helper). It didn’t take long to make an impression, as at our first rest stop at a local market I ripped my pants and had to sit on the side of the road in my boxers as Carrie sewed them up. Later on the drive out of town we saw a local woman hand cranked petrol from an oil barrel into a soda bottle while watching lines of Westerners waiting to take an elephant ride. Finally, we left civilization behind and headed into the mountains to the northwest of Chang Mai.
A local Thai woman sews at the first village on our trek
The ride was long and muddy and I spent most of it crushed between three people leaning and the metal guards at the back of the truck. With 4WD in gear we sloshed and skidded our way up, past a fogged in lookout point to a local village for lunch and a tour of tour of the town. Primarily a weaving village, we saw local huts, outhouses, farm life, kitchens, a quick sewing demonstration and a giant satellite dish on everyone’s roof. Carrie and I joked that it was as if someone was giving us a tour of Murra (the village Carrie volunteered in in Nicaragua). The people seemed immune to our presence and really seemed to keep up a traditional life mixed with just a few modern comforts.
“Aren’t we supposed to have Sherpas to carrying our stuff,” I wondered as I piled six liters of water into my already stuffed pack to begin our walk. I guess that only comes in Nepal. So, with at least 10kg on our backs we trekked across grassy flatlands and up steep and never-ending hills. I’m pretty sure some of them were actual at a 90 degree angle. At one point the steepness got to the Danish guy who had to lay down for a bit then have Jackie Chan carry his bag for him.
Nearly three hours later, after lots of awesome viewpoints and fascinating lessons on the indigenous plant species, we turned a bend and saw two massive elephants standing around waiting for us. Carrie and I were the first to get on back of one of these giant beautiful animals and begin our ride, complete with a bag of small sugar cane cubes that the guides called elephant chocolate.
Carrie and I atop an elephant
Every few steps the elephant would stop, put its trunk up above it’s head and beg for a chocolate. When we gave it one he would lower the trunk, eat it and show his joy by flapping his ears. Then, the trunk would raise again for more chocolate. We used these times to actually pet the elephant, whose skin felt like leather sandpaper with very course hairs sticking out of it.
The ride itself was about 45 minutes long, though the elephant only walked for a minute or two in between breaks and only when its master made some grunting sound that meant forward. We stayed on a well trodden path and had no control over the elephant’s pace or movements…which I’m surprisingly OK with.
What was surprisingly not OK was just how unpleasant the actual ride was. We imagined something out of Aladdin with plush seats fit for a king. In reality, the seat is a plank of wood on the elephant’s back and the safety rails that come up to keep riders in are just square metal poles that are always digging into the spine. We spent much of the time being jostled into the poles, hanging on for dear life as the elephant went downhill or enjoying the feeling of our butt bones becoming one with the wood planks. Still, we rode on an elephant and it was awesome!
Our hut on night one of the Chang Mai Jungle Trek
One rain-induced sprint through a muddy and slippery rice terrace later we arrived at our home for the evening: wooden cabins on stilts sitting on the edge of a valley facing the sunset. As the rain continued to pour we sat around, drying off, playing with the two local kids who also lived there, watching our elephant hosts sniff around our porch and waiting for dinner. When it came we feasted like kings, as Mr. Ton had prepared us a five course meal that I rank as one of the most delicious I’ve had in Thailand.
Dinner was supposed to be complimented by rats that we caught in the field and roasted over a campfire, but the rain put the kibosh on that plan. Instead, we sat around listening to Mr. Ton and Jackie Chan playing local instruments as well as a guitar. Some songs were in Thai, others were classic Western ditties and others still were them singing about the day and tomorrow’s plans. A fun night, but after a long day I quickly retreated to sleep in our shared room with six mattresses lined up on the floor. The toilet was up the hill behind our shack.
Jackie Chan toasts bread over an open fire for breakfast on our second day of trekking
Day Two:
Day two began at 7am, as we awoke to find Mr. Ton toasting bread on a stick over an open fire and boiling eggs for breakfast. To spread the butter and jam he had carved us all engraved knives out of wood; ours remain unused and in my pack. In addition to knives, Mr. Ton also whittled slingshots and we spent much of the next hour shooting away at beer cans and stuffed animals. The best shooters, we found, were the two local kids who probably get to practice daily.
All out of rock slingshot ammo, we headed off into the jungle again for a full day of walking. Our first real break was lunch after nearly three hours of trekking and consisted of a heaping portion of veggie noodles that we had been carrying in our packs all morning. Wrapped in bamboo leaves and eaten with chop sticks whittled out of bamboo by Mr. Ton, our meal left no eco-footprint in the forest.
The whittling continued later in the day when we stopped for a while and Mr. Ton chopped down a bamboo tree to make us all cups and again that night when we used hand-carved forks for dinner. The whole idea of the trek was to teach methods to survive in the jungle alone. I guess if surviving involves making a full set of utensils then I should be golden.
The Karen Shan village we stopped at on our second day of trekking
Two more hours of walking later we finally arrived at the indigenous village located in a valley of a remote mountain. Inhabited by only seven families and 53 people, the town had only a handful of buildings and more farm animals than anything else. Immediately upon our arrival we were greeted by a villager plopping down a bucket of Coke, beer and water for sale. She then proceeded to return up the hill to join her friends and family in sitting there and staring at the new group of foreigners invading their village.
Solar power panels donated by the Thai government were attached to a couple of the houses, but there was no need for it as none of the locals seemed to have any electronics except for a radio. There was a pig pen, water buffalo roaming freely, cows, roosters, chickens and animal poo everywhere. One highlight was watching a local woman gather all the chickens and put them in their baskets for the night. Her job was pretty easy, as she just tossed seeds into the baskets and the chickens jumped in after them.
Dinner was another amazing feast prepared by Mr. Ton but was eaten alone. Other than continued staring and the occasional smile, interactions with the villagers were non existent. Carrie and I were a bit annoyed by this, as one of the reasons we splurged was to have a more of a real experience. I guess it’s tough when there is a massive language barrier and the only person who can bridge it (Mr. Ton) did not even try.
Setting off a home made hot air balloon
The awkwardness was put on hold briefly when Mr. Ton began to make a hot air balloon out of paper, bamboo sticks, toilet paper soaked in wax, metal ties (like twisties without the paper covering) and fireworks. We all signed our names, he assembled it and the whole town watched as he set it off into the night sky. The thing must have gone up for 10 minutes, setting off the noisy fireworks at lengthy intervals, before poofing out and returning to earth miles away.
No sooner than the balloon show ended did the villagers head off in their own directions again. The rest of the night was spent sitting around a small campfire listening to Mr. Ton play more instruments. Looking in the sky was another treat, as the stars were out in force with no city lights around to dull them and were awe inspiring.
Carrie demonstrates how to use the clay set we bought the kids at a 7-11
Day 3:
My third day began by sleeping through hours of rooster crowing and pig squealing from the pen below our shared room on stilts. After waking up and having breakfast, Carrie gave the local kids the gift we had bought them at 7-11: a toy clay set with fun shaped cutters. For the first time, all the parents and kids came around and got involved as Carrie demonstrated how to use the cut outs. It was a very cool sight to watch.
Our hike for the day was pretty straightforward. Two and a half hours in the jungle, avoiding leeches, crossing streams on logs and rocks, sweating like crazy, watching butterflies frolick in poo. Pretty standard really, though we could have done without the French couple fighting for hours on end, crying and making us all wait for them to air their business.
Finally back in town we headed down from the mountains onto bamboo rafts for a journey downstream. These rafts are literally ten or so bamboo trees tied together Huck Finn style with string. We had two rafts total: each with three trekkers and one guide. Steering and propulsion were accomplished by taking 10 foot bamboo poles and sticking them into the water to push against the river bed.
A local Karen tribe woman at our village stop after the second day of trekking
In reality, although we were given two poles per raft, the guide did all the work. We used our sticks more to try and capsize the other raft…a game which our guides seemed to have more fun playing than us. An hour later we got off the rafts and watched as the staff disassembled each one and brought the individual logs uphill for transport back to the start.
Our final stop on the trek was a waterfall that was by far the largest I’ve seen in more than six months of travel. Two-tiered, we arrived at the bottom for a quick swim. The water was bone-chillingly cold and I actually lost my breath when I first jumped in. That didn’t stop me, however, from jumping off a rock and cannonballing into the water a few times before we left.
All in all I really liked the trek. Sure, there were a few niggles along the way, but we got to do tons of hiking, saw amazing views, were surrounded by nature and visited multiple local villages. Well worth it and a wonderful experience.
Our hut on night one of the Chang Mai Jungle Trek
Walking through the thick
Sounds of the jungle at sunset
Putting the chickens away at the local village we visited on the second night
Playing and singing by Mr Ton and Jackie Chan our first night Jackie is playing a plastic oil bottle with spoons
Chang Mai is a staple on the tourist circuit of Thailand and it’s easy to see why. While the city itself is a sprawling mass of houses and shops, the main square is a 2 square kilometer area surrounded by a moat and filled with temples, monasteries and history.
We spent our first two days there relaxing, wandering around and taking it all in, eating delicious burritos (I can’t wait for Chipotle when I get home), checking out the night market and finding out about tours, treks and food.
After not making time to take a cooking class in India, we were determined not to leave Thailand without at least learning how to make a pad thai. We got all that and more when we attended The Best Thai Cookery School for a one day course. The day began with a tour of the local market where our teacher showed us all the ingredients we would use and how to pick the best ones. Something tells me that it will be harder back in the states.
Carrie and I show off our creations at the Best Thai Cookery School
For six hours we watched the chef prepare a few meals and cooked a few of our own. At one point he asked for a volunteer and I went to the head of the class and learned how to flip noodles on a wok. Later, when the class made our noodle dishes, the chef doused our raw ingredients in water. When we tossed them into the wok it created a huge fireball that took everyone aback. Very cool! The most amazing part of the course was just how easy it was to make all of these delicious foods.
Carrie and I chose different dishes so we could get a greater variety and sample more foods. I made chicken and cashew nuts, pad thai, panang curry and tom yum soup. She cooked drunken noodles, green curry, sweet and sour veggies and coconut milk soup. Then, as a group we all made spring rolls, papaya salad and sticky rice with mango. Every single thing was the best thing I’ve ever tasted!
The day after our cooking class we rented a motorbike and headed to the outskirts of Chang Mai to visit a couple of temples that would have cost us 5x more to visit by tuk tuk. Our first stop was the Wat Doi Suthep: a monastery atop a mountain centered around a golden dagoba. The drive to get there was long, uphill, windy and tons of fun.
After parking, we still had another 300+ dragon-scaled steps to climb before get to the main temple area. We paid the foreigner entrance fee (there’s always a fee for us) and entered a square complex featuring numerous beautifully decorated and steeped buildings that screamed Asia. Gold tiles adorning the outside walls, dragons on the roofs, the whole nine yards. Many buildings had Buddha statues inside and I couldn’t help but laugh at the group of monks taking photos of each other in front of them. Monks are not supposed to embrace technology, let alone each one having a camera or phone.
With my incents, candles and flowers during our puja at Wat Doi Suthep
Inside the square was a glistening golden dagoba surrounded by dozens more Buddha statues. There were numerous prayer areas throughout and monks situated around to take donations and offerings. At one point Carrie and I did a puja (the Indian term for walking around a holy sight three times). We bowed our heads in prayer and held flowers, candles and incense. After our third lap we lit the candles and incense and put them, along with the flowers, in designated holders around the dagoba.
Having finished up at Doi Suthep, we once again hopped on our motorbike for a slow ride down the curvy mountain. At one point I was passed by a bike with two school girls driving and another time a cop honked at us just to say hi and call to attention the fact that we were two white people riding a bike. The drive continued in the city as the downpour started, pelting my face at 60kph, as I followed a bike filled with four locals who I was following to Wat Umong.
Wat Umong, also known as the forest monastery, is a beautifully shaded plot of land that monks visit during the day to pray, learn and meditate. It is most famous for a series of underground tunnels built hundreds of years ago to keep a wandering monk occupied and in one place. Above it is a large dagoba and a statue of an emaciated Buddha, complete with skinny rib cage and veins sticking out. I have seen hundreds of Buddhas on this trip, but none like this.
A pedestal filled with Buddha relics in various stages of decompisition Wat Umong, the Forest Monestary
The tunnels had healthy Buddha statues at every bend, complete with locals praying and very faded artwork adorning the ceiling. Outside there is a large circle where thousands of little Buddha and Hindu God statues lay in various stages of decomposition. Some were new and intact, some headless and some just a little stump. I couldn’t help but think that my mom would be in heaven there!
Just before leaving we stopped at the meditation question room and spoke to a monk who told us that we could actually go there the next day for a free meditation retreat. I was a bit hesitant and worried, as I am incapable of staying awake under the best of conditions, but it was one of the top things Carrie wanted to do so we signed up.
The tunnels underneath Wat Umong, the Forest Monestary
The Wat Umong meditation retreat story begins with a quest for two plain white tee shirts, as requested by the monk, from the Chang Mai night market. Knowing that we would literally use them for one day then ditch them, we didn’t want to spend too much. Frustrations grew as we could not find solid white anywhere and the few shirts with small logos (as bootleg as they may be) were all way overpriced. After a few near-purchases that fell through due to greed on the seller’s part, we finally found a pair of Polo shirts with only a the little polo player logo over the left breast.
Naturally, upon arriving at the monastery the next morning at 7:30am, the monk told us that our shirts were no good because of the little logo, but no problem because he had ones we could use! Now you tell us!. Oh well. We got dressed, ate a small breakfast and dropped our bags off in our teeny rooms. My domicile had only four walls and an open ceiling, a thin sleeping pad on the floor, a pillow and barely enough room to walk. Carrie’s was even smaller having an elevated metal bed with the same thin sleeping pad and less room to walk around.
Carrie's teeny room at Wat Umong, the Forest Monestary. The bed is literally rock hard with only a sleeping pad and pillow
Our day began with an hour long intro to meditation by an older monk who seemed to have no patience for his job and didn’t let me ask a single question. The main idea behind the practice is to be consciously thinking of whatever you are doing and stating it to itself. First we learned walking meditation, which involves walking in a straight line thinking about every move. For each step there is “lifting, moving, placing.” Then, after a few meters, it’s time to turn around slowly saying “turning, turning, turning.”
If a noise interrupts the meditation, the brain should not focus on the noise itself but rather the fact that there is a noise by saying “noisy, noisy, noisy.” Similarly, if a thought pops into the mind it should become “thinking, thinking, thinking.” No attention should be paid to the thought itself, just to the concept that a thought is happening. Needless to say, I spent a lot of time saying “lifting, moving, thinking, thinking, thinking, noisy, thinking, noisy, placing, thinking, turning.”
Next, the monk taught us sitting meditation, which involves the practicer sitting cross legged with the back straight concentrating on breathing above all else. “Breathing in, breathing out, breathing in, thinking, thinking, noisy, thinking, thinking, sleepy, sleepy, bored, sleepy, thinking, breathing out.” That was a very typical mind flow for me during sitting meditation…at least when I managed to stay awake.
After our introduction, during which the monk confused me with tales of how meditation will change my life and make me calm and allow me to exist above my thoughts, we were told to go practice in our rooms. I had a pretty good time with the walking meditation, but as we had only gotten five hours of sleep the night before I didn’t last long while sitting. Also, my mind was filled with tons of questions that the monk did not have the time to answer, so “thinking” was a bit too common and I was worried that I wasn’t doing it right.
Carrie and I meditate at Wat Umong, the Forest Monestary
After nearly two hours in my room, we all met again for lunch: the last meal of the day. It seems monks don’t eat after noon. Anyway, I went back to the office to see if I could talk to someone about all these questions and wound up sitting down with Carrie and a different monk who had far more patience and a great outlook on the whole meditation process.
While meditation can, in fact, change my life, make me more calm and have all sorts of amazing benefits, it’s like riding a bike. You can’t just hop on and expect to race in the Tour de France. I was glad for this clarification, as lots of what Monk #1 said were things that I needed years of practice to attain…not things I should be fixating on during my first meditation session. It seems, however, that just sitting there trying hard to focus and spending most of the time saying “thinking” was, in fact, meditating.
Much of the rest of the day was spent either meditating in our rooms or in the communal hall, complete with a Buddha statue, mats and a place for candles and incense. We also found time to break a few of the core rules of the retreat: no talking, reading or writing. To be fair, Carrie held out much better than I could and were she solo probably could have made it through the whole day.
The Buddha statue in the group meditation room at Wat Umong
As for the reasoning behind the rules, we really began to understand it after breaking them. The whole idea behind meditation is to empty your mind and free it from external stimulants. Reading puts new thoughts in and writing makes you think about what you have already done. Talking is the most destructive of all, as Carrie and I found out after returning from a walk in which we discussed possible business ventures for the future. When I tried to sit back down and clear my mind, the conversation we had was so loud in my head that it even drowned out “thinking, thinking.”
Fortunately, Wat Umong is very laid back on the enforcement of the rules as well as the schedule. We came and went as we pleased, though we did adhere to the no eating after noon and in bed by 9pm policies. The next morning we woke at 5:30am, an hour and a half after the scheduled time, did a little more meditation and headed for the bus terminal to get to Laos before our Thai visas expired.
Getting a Thai exit stamp from the Chang Kong, Thailand, border office
Land border crossings vary from country to country. To get into Singapore and Malaysia we had to enter big buildings with lots of security and lines and have our bags screened by x-ray machines. Before entering Thailand we had to pass a health examination. And then there was Laos.
Six hours after leaving Chang Mai by bus, we arrived in the small border town of Chang Kong, located on the shores of the Mekong River. A quick tuk tuk ride later we were standing in a line to get our passport exit stamps from a small booth on the side of a dusty road. Once stamped, we headed down a hill to a dock area, bought a ticket from a tent for double what the locals pay and boarded a dinky wooden speed boat.
Once another dozen people got on board, the boat departed Thailand and made the two minute journey across the Mekong to the shores of Houayxai: the Laos border town. Some passengers had to step in shin-deep water to get off the boat. I jumped the few feet onto the shore and had Carrie pass our bags over. We walked up a small barely-paved road for around 25 feet before hitting the arrival section, which was nothing more than two small office windows and a few tables with benches to write on.
Laos visa on arrival
Unlike other countries where you must have your visa before leaving home, Laos offers visas on arrival. For $35 per person, payable in US dollars or Thai Bhat (for a $10 surcharge), the Laos government gives you the legal right to stay in the country for 30 days without leaving (aka, a single-entry visa). Want to go check out another country and come back? Another $35 please.
We filled out the forms, provided the passport photos that we’ve been carrying around since NYC, paid the cashier and moved onto the adjacent window for a passport stamp. With all paperwork taken care of, all that was left to do was finish walking up the small hill, show the one police officer at a guard post that we had our stamps and visas and enter Houayxai.
Carrie and I were joking that we couldn’t imagine a border anywhere with one single guard. What happens if someone runs by? Do they chase after him/her and leave the border unguarded? Do they just shrug their shoulders and say meh? Who knows!
