LP “Living In” and Loving LP

I love Luang Prabang, I really do. I just think it’s so beautiful and peaceful—a pleasant place that I could stroll or bicycle for hours. And, the one downside, how very touristy it felt last time due to the many familiar faces strolling the main street from my slow boat trip is no longer as noticeable now that all those faces have left town. Of course there are new shipments everyday, but whether I just don’t know them and am therefore more oblivious, or if it’s really hitting low season, I don’t know, but the town is really low-key these days and I’m just resting up and enjoying some downtime after a lot of moving around. I’m trying against my natural tendencies to just chill out and take in the scenery and stop and smell the bourgainviller.

I have been doing a bit of volunteer work, just a few hours a day. And although it’s really not very much, it’s nice to be back hanging out with some kids and feeling like I’m contributing in some small way. I splurged on a nicer guesthouse at the urging of my lovely mother—i.e. shelling out $5 a night for my own room with nice white sheets, wood floors, a clean bathroom of my own with hot shower—as opposed to one with ants that would possibly shave a good $1 off the price. I suppose it is worth it! And it was probably a good idea anyway since I’ve spent the week be quite blessedly anti-social and quite a bit of time reading and sleeping in my room or on the lovely balcony of my guesthouse drinking the free green tea. After a while (and Vang Vieng was the epitome of social just like being back at college), it can get a little tiring playing the “where you from, how long you here, where you been, etc?” story, and even with my self-proclaimed fear of boredom, I’ve actually really enjoyed time to myself to recuperate from my crazy tubing week.

I wake up everyday and head to Big Brother Mouse to practice English with older Laos student (around ages 17-22) from 9-11am, which has mainly entailed playing scrabble. It is sad to see how much my English, especially spelling, has suffered from my year abroad (or perhaps you’ve noticed the typos in my blog, forgive me please), but luckily I’m still an asset to the kids here who seem quite happy to have a native speaker with which to converse. They are incredibly polite and kind, and I’m not sure I can say the same for the younger kids—more 8-10 year olds, who are beyond rambunctious (or perhaps I have just forgotten what 10 year olds are like already?!). But I come back in the evenings, from 5-7pm to play with them and mainly draw pictures, which translated to me making replicas of action figure playing cards for each of the boys—FUN! Midweek, I went to a local paper store (they make the most beautiful handmade paper here, and that was easier to find than some basic large reel paper) and bought a large 2 meter by 1meter piece to make a big mural for the front wall of the new office. By Friday we were gluing leaves, flowers, and animals of all kinds on to the paper in a jungle theme—and of course fighting the common children’s urge to use a whole jar of glue to paste on one piece!

Other than that I’ve been enjoying the beauty of the town, the shuttered French-style houses, the brick-lined alley ways overflowing with bourgainviller and other bright flowers, the cafes lining the river, and the daily thunderstorms. On Monday, I went to the spectacular local waterfall, Kung Si with some Danish girls I had met in Vang Vieng. On Tuesday I checked out the other side of the river with a New Zealand couple who was also volunteering at BBM. So there, I haven’t been THAT anti-social. On Wednesday, I rented a bicycle and looped the town, also checking out a lovely weaving center down river from Luang Prabang on the banks of the Mekong. Thursday, I treated myself to a Lao cooking course which was a real, all-day treat. The group of nine of us plus our two instructors from the Three Elephants Café in town visited the market to see local ingredients. Then we went back to the kitchen and our work stations to prepare no less than six dishes—two which we had for lunch (Luang Prabang salad with a delicious egg yolk dressing, and fried noodles with chicken and vegetables—healthy I know, but so good!), and four others that we had for dinner (pork and egg casserole, fried eggplant and pork, chicken and eggplant curry, minced chicken and herb salad called “larp”) all with sticky rice no less. I had to roll myself home! Then today, Friday, I checked out the national museum which was the king’s old residence from the time that Luang Prabang was the capital of Laos. Then I also had the opportunity to join one of my BMM students, who himself goes back to him home Hmong (an ethnic group here) village to teach the local children English, as a guest lecturer of sorts! Not sure how much I helped, but I definitely think I was a surprise for the children. I also saw some local cultural dancing that night at the children's cultural center complete with a fashion show by the youngsters of the various traditional ethnic dress found throughout Laos. And of course I’ve also been scouring the markets and indulging in fresh fruit shakes, spring rolls, and noodle soups galore!

Next it’s time for another treat, a belated birthday present to myself: I’m going to Elephant Mahout Camp! A two day, one night trip to the local Elephant Camp and Conservation Center to ride and bath elephants..can’t do that at home!

Laos: A Sloooooooow Hello to an Ideal Birthday Destination

The past week has gone very slowly, though of course looking back on it, it really has flown by. I’d say that’s quite typical of, well, life first off, but more so travel, and even more so, backpacker travel. I think it’s because you spend long stretches of time on various modes of transportation covering long distances (and most often with varying degrees of comfort) filled with fits of restless sleep (okay, I really sleep well!) and staring out the window or boat (scenery in Laos has proved quite spectacular. Then, as was the case with my time in Sihanoukville, if you meet a group of people, it’s quite easy to get “stuck” for a few more days than originally anticipated!

The slow hello began with what was really quite an epic slow boat journey. My departure from Thailand consisted of me travelling a winding 6 hours to the northern border, staying overnight in a guesthouse there, and waking up early the next day (along with many another backpackers who had also taken the easy way out and opted for a lazy package deal—yes, sue me, I got lazy!) and took a long boat taxi across the river border to the Laos immigration post. Then by 10am we were loading on to the long slow boat—or should I say cramming? Though it was nothing compared to the sardine can that would take place the following morning. The rest of the day passed without too much commotion or excitement, but was quite enjoyable chatting with other travelers, playing some card games, drinking Beer Lao, and taking in the stunning deep green mountains towering over the brown river. That night we stopped in the little town of Pak Beng, which in essence seems to have come to life because of the slow boat business with a dozen guesthouses and not much else save a small market and a handful of restaurants. The power goes out each night at 10:30pm and there’s not a phone or internet connection in sight. I grabbed a room at a guesthouse and dinner with some new friends, but without power it wasn’t much of a late night. Next morning, we were up early again and piling back onto the boat—only this time the boat was much smaller, perhaps a mere 3/4 of the previous one. Not good. I being my mother’s daughter was not going to stand for this. So there I was arguing with the boat people in front of all the other 70 passengers or so for them to grant us a larger boat (the one from yesterday) for the journey to Luang Prabang. Everyone else on board very helpfully looked on and then asked what had happened when I re-boarded the boat. Not a group of activists I guess. The operators basically won because, well, what other choice did we have, although one other girl (a helpful Brazilian) did join me in my cause. We set out on the six hour journey with not so much room to pay cards and clearly everyone a bit grumpier, more tired and squashed than the previous day.

But when Luang Prabang finally came into sight, relief was audible and everyone scrambled of the boat (with their many bags mind you). We found a cheap guesthouse, grabbed some dinner (I tried larp, a traditional minced meat salad which was very good) and wandered the town. Then it was time to hit the bar scene which closes at curfew—11pm town-wide. Kind of a drag, but not to fear, other options were waiting--either a disco that some of the guys tried out open until 1am, or, drum roll: bowling! That’s right: the town boasts an eight lane bowling alley complete with Beer Lao service open until an impressive 3am. I bowled one (horrendous, shameful really) game and hung around until about 2. It had been a long couple of days after all. The next day I strolled around the beautiful town, first checking out some of the day markets (more temptation), and then walking along the riverfront and check out the wat on Phousi Hill with my new Belgian friend, Tina. From the top of the 300 some steps (huffing and puffing all the way) you could see up and down the two rivers that bisect the town and the carpet of green hills that frame the town. Luang Prabang is a UNESCO World Heritage sight so the French colonial architecture and manicured gardens make for a truly lovely sight. That night I met up with some friends I had met on my trek in Chiang Mai who were also in Luang Prabang and made plans to meet them in a couple days in Vang Vieng for my birthday celebration. Although planning to stay the next day and see some famous local waterfalls, the rainy season had other plans for me. So instead, I made plans to head to Vang Vieng that day and return to Luang Prabang at the end of the week to do a volunteer stint with a nice Laos organization called Big Brother Mouse (http://www.bigbrothermouse.com/). That morning I also woke up very early, dragging myself out of bed at 6am, to partake in the local tradition of donating food to the monks at dawn. I went out to the main road, purchased a couple dollars worth of sticky rice and bananas, and waited for the procession of monks in their bright orange robes. As they walked past with small cauldrons slung low across their sides and lifted the lids, I pressed in a small clump of rice until I ran out.

Another girl from the infamous slowboat, Tanya, whose birthday was the day before mine, joined me on the frantic, winding, hilly 6 hour night bus to Vang Vieng where we arrived just after midnight in time to get a room and a drink with some other people from our slow boat who had arrived there earlier that day. And here’s where the going got fun—very fun—because if there’s any place I could have picked that could comfort a lone traveler on her first birthday not celebrating with my dear old friends and family, I think Vang Vieng was a good choice. This place screams fun, perhaps too loudly at times. Tuesday morning,(okay, early afternoon) Tanya, Tina, and a bunch of Irish and English lads headed to the tubing shop along with 200 other fun-seekers and spent the rest of the day floating down the river, stopping at creaky bamboo bars for drinks and towering rope-swings and zip lines over the river, and even several people waiting on the ladder up to the bar to reel tubers in with bamboo fishing rods. Brilliant! This is no James River Tubing, my dear Wahoos—and I say we try to bring this concept to Virginia, though I’m sure with the liability issues it would never happen in the US. But what a good time it was!

We toasted to Tanya’s birthday all day. And then at night, like lemmings, everyone heads first to a laid-back bungalow bar with frat music until curfew at midnight, then on to the infamously named Bucket Bar for late night. The next day it was time to do it all over again, and with the sun shinning and more rope swings to be had it was another great day. That night I had a surprise—my first unplanned spotting of a friend from home, Neil from NYC! I was literally just standing in Smile Bar and got a tap on my shoulder and a “Laura?” I’m quite sure I turned away at first because I didn’t believe it, but there he was—on a two week holiday with some friends! I hadn’t seen him in almost two years, so crazy.

However, post-birthday-day I was definitely ready for some time off from tubing. Instead, Tine and I rented bicycles and rode the 7 or so kilometers to the Poukham Cave outside of town. There was a swimming hole with more swings and jumps (seems to be a theme around here!) and a steep ascent to a huge cave housing a reclining Buddha shrine and apparently another large dark cave, though our flip-flop clad feet and the slippery rocks stopped us from reaching the final destination. On the ride home too we passed through tiny villages with women weaving by the roadside, stretches of farmland, and more striking mountain vistas.

However, the following day, Friday, the group was back out on the river for final hooray, although my still aching arms were not as intent on rope-swing ambitions. Once again, the pleasant, relaxed atmosphere got the better of myself and others, and against previous plans, both Tina and I decided to stay an extra day to take a tour to explore a couple other days and have a more leisurely day (read: sober) kayaking down the river—choosing to float past the bars this time! And oh yes, we ended the day with a much needed traditional Lao massage to sooth those aching back and neck muscles that had been doing far too much swinging.

Now it’s time to pack my bags yet again and head back up north for a week in Luang Prabang and, if all goes as planned, some volunteer work which I’m really looking forward too. After a week of self-indulgence--in Beer Lao, baguette sandwiches (so good here, thanks to the lingering French influence) and late night pancakes, pillow-filled outdoor cafes, and fruit shakes, and of course lazy river days--I’m looking forward to getting back to giving a little back, especially to a country that’s already shown me such a good time.

Art and Adventure in Chiang Mai

Chiang Mai was definitely worthy of a trip up to the north, and I packed in quite a variety of activities into my six days there. My first day after sneakily getting dropped in town, I proceeded to drive myself crazy wandering about the city looking for a guesthouse and a trekking trip. Just like scuba course options in Koh Tao, this proved totally overwhelming, and per usual I handled in the most illogical manner—spending lots of time looking and then impulsively walking by one sign on a random street and signing up on the spot for a 3-day trek. Truth be told I think I got the best deal of anyone on my trek. It’s really just so hard to know because the Thai network of tourism consists of all of these little agencies feeding into other small ones, then bigger ones which are quite unclear to the unsuspecting tourist. However, the next day on the trek, when the sticky question of how much one paid for the trek came up, I kept mum because it turned out to my 1400 baht (just under $50) some girls had booked in Bangkok for just the two day trek paying 1900, and so on. I guess you just have to take your turn getting screwed over every few weeks in Southeast Asia, and sometimes you get cut a break. It ended up being even more of an unlikely wise decision on my part because due to the fact that it is now low season and I was this woman’s first customer of the day, I was pronounced “lucky” and when asking her about the best way to visit some markets outside of town, she volunteered her husband to act as my guide for the afternoon!

So I headed back to my original guesthouse, which at 100 baht a night (yes $3 for my own room with hot water, etc, so quite a deal if not the prettiest box in the world), showered, and was whisked of by air-conditioned car no less to see the arts of Chiang Mai in the small town of Bo Sang, which is famous for its paper umbrella among other numerous crafts. In light of my mentioning a love for ceramics, my guide (who spoke excellent English too) took me to the Baan Celadon factory that translates to “house of ceramics” in Thai. It was truly magnificent actually. These are some of the moments also when I’m grateful to be travelling alone because I’m not sure how many travel buddies would be eager to wander the ceramics store for an hour, no matter how exquisite. The shop attendant offered me some lovely iced green tea, and I wandered the large shop ogling the many intricately carved and painted vases, elephant motifs, bowls, etc. In the back of the shop there was the large factory room where one could observe men hard at work throwing bowls and women hunched over their piece with supreme focus. After this delightful excursion, I was shown the silk factory, lacquer workshop, gemstone factory, paper crafts and umbrellas, and the carpet and weaving factory. So many fine works and of course so many shopping temptations along the way (for better or worse my backpack provides a strict limitation on this matter). After a real treat of an afternoon, I spent the evening organizing for my trek the following morning and enjoying a night’s sleep not on a train.

Next day I was up and out early to meet the rest of my trekking group, which on the first day consisted of 11 people—one Swede, two Canadians, two Australians, two Swiss, one Korean, one Brit, one Russian living in Brooklyn, and myself. The first day we started off at a butterfly and orchid garden (they have these in every country I swear), before driving out in the back of a pickup truck to our first adventure: elephant riding! I ended up sharing an elephant with the Brit, a girl named Sarah, whom I literally met at we teetered on top of the elephant, and I ended up rooming with her for my last three days in Chiang Mai after the trek. Our elephant was one of the smaller ones and very cute aside from when he snotted on us after we fed him bananas, and when he splashed us heartily at the water station. I sat on the neck for part of the way, but retreated to the seat after sensing some instability. Altogether it was a lot of fun and (I hope) the elephants seemed to be treated pretty well. Then we were sent across the river in small groups in a hanging wire cage—very Indiana Jones. After some friend rice, it was time for what turned out to be a grueling three hour hike, and one again I was shamed into realizing my true fitness level: not great. The trek was mostly uphill to the village where we would be staying for the night perched off in the distance. We ventured across rocky streams and up long stretches of hills huffing and puffing. I was not alone in my agony, but as usual everyone was trying to put on a tough exterior until we arrived for the evening and the truth came out.

Now I’ll be honest, the hill tribe we visited were quite disappointing. Perhaps I should have known better but I was expecting some authenticity. Wrong—the closest we got was some children selling their bracelets and many woman harassing us to get a traditional Lahu massage. Somehow I managed to avoid both. We had a good dinner of chicken curry and pineapple for dessert, then had a traditional Lahu evening—sitting around the guitar man singing American ballads—oh, Thailand! The best part was that we could hear another group engaging in the same traditional village activities, only their guy knew how to sing Mr. Jones. At last, at the time of 9pm (and I stayed up the latest—not so much to do there after dark) we hit our mosquito-net enveloped mats and slept until the cows, pigs, and roosters awakened the world. I guess that was pretty authentic. Although according to my mother the hill tribes weren’t so authentic 30 years ago either, and to be honest, having all these damn tourist wandering through every day clearly does not help the situation. I just wanted my little traditional dance, to snap some pictures and go, so I was just part of the problem I suppose.

The second day we hiked a couple hours through a few more villages before stopping at one for a swim in a lovely waterfall and a noodle soup lunch. Another bit of trekking later and we had reached another impressive waterfall and then we were off to our secluded jungle camp for the night, another nice large thatched-roof hut perched by a stream. After dinner we sat around a campfire and listened to some more guitar, including one very popular Thai song which will forever be stuck in my head—do do do do da dum, blah blah blah blah blahhhhhhhhhhh. The next day we set off for our final adventures: white-water rafting and bamboo rafting. The white-water proved quite adventurous after all when our raft was flipped and our guides lack of skill and English speaking abilities were brought to the forefront, poor guy. The four in our boat were all rescued from our respective rocky perches and given another guide who took us down the rest of the river with only a few more hiccups. Another river survived! It was a bit scarier than the Nile because although the rapids were not nearly as big, the “river” was very narrow and had lots of rocks popping up everywhere and we seemed to have a knack for hitting every one of them. After this slightly harrowing experience, we had a mellower ride on a long bamboo raft before it was time for pad thai lunch and our ride back to civilization.

Continuing the Thai adventures, I signed up for a cooking class the next day which included a trip to the market to learn about rice, curry pastes, etc, before heading up to the instructor’s house in the hills outside of Chiang Mai where we learned to make six dishes: tom yam soup, mixed vegetables, spring rolls, pad thai, green/penang/ or massaman curry, and mango and sticky rice, as well as numerous variations on these dishes. We each had our own cooking station and got to season to the dishes to our desired spice level (three chilies for me!), and even do adventure cooking—creating a huge flame when frying out mixed vegetables—only to be tried in this open air kitchen, not a NYC one I’d imagine. That evening a cooking class friend and I took a moto up the windy mountain rode to see the spectacular view from Doi Suthep temple.

The following day I treated myself to one more class: a Thai batik class. Batik is all over Asia, but it consists of a method of using hot wax to create a design and then paint colors within and around it before washing of the wax and exposing the design. Apparently Thai batik is traditionally much more colorful than Indonesian and Malaysian batik. I had just the loveliest time that day. First of all, even though there is usually a minimum for two people for the course, the woman, Ann, agreed to take just me. She picked me up in the morning and drove me to a nice big house she shares with her husband and 7 year old daughter outside Chiang Mai. After treating me to tea and breakfast cake, she taught me the basics of Thai batik, the canting tools, the wax, etc. and then I chose a fish and lotus blossom pattern for the first cloth, traced it, and outlined it with hot wax with varying success and much help from Ann. After that I was given free range to paint and blend with the watercolors until I was satisfied with my efforts, and then shown how to use salt and sugar to create different bubbling effect on the painted material. Then it was time for a home-cooked lunch of pork with hot basil, fried egg, steamed rive, and vegetable soup (all delicious), during which her daughter joined us (it was her last day of summer vacation!) and we chatted about university life in Thailand among other things.

Next I was given a thicker cloth pillowcase to paint and I chose a flower pattern, painted on the wax again, blended and experimented with the paints, and then learned another technique of creating a crackling technique using paraffin wax over the paint. Then I learned to finish and seal in the colors before removing the wax and seeing the final product! After a long but good day of art, I was sad to leave this happy little home of suburban bliss, but headed back into Chiang Mai to make my next set of plans: border crossing into Laos. Now this should be interesting…

A Moveable Feast

That’s what my life really is these days. Anyone who knows me (even for about 5 minutes!) knows that I love food. (If you don’t know, who are you and why are you reading this rambling blog?!) I have been pretty much in foodie heaven since my arrival in Southeast Asia after a long, sad drought in pricey Australia and NZed, and Africa was nothing to write home about food-wise, but I don’t think I’ve done it justice in my blog. After some surprisingly good Khmer food, especially the excellent curry amoks of lemongrass and coconut, I have returned to the land of Thai cooking, right up there with Italian cooking for me. I was not looking forward to my trip back to Bangkok, and with good reason as it turned out to be a very long day of travel as expected, nor was I looking forward to going back to Bangkok for that matter—loud, noisy, crowded, confusing—what New York’s Times Square must feel like upon first arrival (I shudder to think). But I was certainly looking forward to more Thai cooking which is often so simple yet so full of sweet, spicy, hot that I never tire of eating it.

The trip to Bangkok began at 8am from Sihanoukville (yes, I finally made it out of there!), and continued on no less than 8 modes of transportation to reach my final destination. There was the moto ride to the bus station, followed by two bus changes for reasons which will never be fully clear to me. Something about compiling groups going in the same direction I think, which once left me momentarily without a seat and fuming. We arrived at the border, and passed through with no problems and a fresh new Thai visa valid for 30 days, hooray! Well, I did try to gently mention to a stern Cambodian immigration woman that I had been charged twice the amount at the border upon entrance and received a turn on the heel and a door shut in my face—goodbye Cambodia! (But I still love you.)

Next, it was on to the minivan phase of the trip. We took off from the border heading for the larger transfer town of Trat with 6 farangs and no Thais, an instant sign that they were going to try to rip us off. Sure enough, our driver pulled over in some little roadside town and made us switch to a different driver who would not leave until our van was full and had another guy trying to charge us again to “go now.” Riggggghhhht. In the end, a few Thais piled in, and we set off again for Trat. Meanwhile, through this hilarious horror, I had bonded with a Dutch girl, Micki, who was living in Bangkok for six months teaching at English camps and had just taken a two week holiday in Cambodia to do a similar visa renewal. Upon arrival at the Trat bus station, we were lucky to grab what turned out to be a very comfy and efficient government bus back to Bangkok that departed just moments after we boarded. They even handed out cookies and soda—jaw-dropping. All told, the travel still took a solid 14 hours, but we managed to hold motivation to take a cheap public bus across the city to the backpacker ghetto of Khao San Rd and check into a guesthouse. Micki crashed for the night, but I just had to have my mango and sticky rice—I was back in the land of MSR! And it was glorious let me tell you. The clump of gently sweet translucent rice, topped with fresh, smooth yellow mango and then drizzled (or in my case smothered) with coconut sauce). It really is food fit for gods.

For breakfast the next day, we feasted on the backpacker standard of Khao San, but it’s still so good: fresh fruit, yogurt, and museli. Asia just has the most amazing fresh, abundant fruits to create bursting salads, shakes, and juices. I had mango, papaya, dragonfruit, pineapple, Asian pear, and watermelon. I then spent a nice couple of hours wandering along the klongs (canals) that run out of the western side of town, the old capital city of Thonburi that has since merged with Bangkok proper. There was not another farang in sight as we wandered along the narrow winding paths past spirit houses, wats, stalls, and shops with their doors wide open and Thais lounging in their shorts and tanks to the whirring of the fans and the blasting TVs. That afternoon I treated myself to yet another Thai favorite—a new discovery—iced milk tea. This “chai” is a rich, dense sandalwood color when mixed with plenty (too much?) condensed milk, and some sugar for added teeth rot. On a hot Bangkok day, there’s nothing like it! That night, I indulged in the glory of Khao San—25 baht pad thai, about 80 cents! A heaping tray of medium thick noodles stir-fried with egg, greens and sprouts, soy, salt and sugar, chili sauce, and topped off with peanuts and more hot chilies to taste. Perfection.

The next day I took a trip to Ayutthaya care of a guided tour group that shuttled us to the old capital city by early morning, where our tour guide preceded to lead us to five temple areas around and within the city. I must admit that not much can live up to Angkor, nevertheless the crumbling brick ruins were interesting to see and learn the importance in Thai history. That night there was more shopping on Khao San Rd in conjunction with more food of course! Sticky rice with mango, pad thai, and a new addition—crispy vegetarian spring rolls with sweet chili dipping sauce, all Khao San staples, all delicious.

I had planned (in my head, nothing concrete of course!) to leave Bangkok the following day because frankly I couldn’t afford to spend another day shopping on Khao San. I went to the train station early to catch a train up to Phitsanulok, the connecting town to the ancient ruins of Sukothai, another former capital of Thailand. As unluck would have it, my cell phone stopped working again (oh yeah, it had stopped working Cambodia and I had gotten it fixed at the dreaded mega-mall complex called MBK my first day in Bangkok). So I bailed on what I thought was a “too expensive” train fare as they only had first or second class seats (I’m quite sure it was still only about $12—I’m crazy), booked an afternoon 3rd class seat for the bargain basement price of $6, and rushed back to the cell phone man to get it reinspected. After cell phone success, and a dash around the eastern end of Bangkok and down to the river by Skytrain (the elevated metro system), I claimed to be staying at The Oriental Hotel (only the fanciest hotel in town) for the favor of a free courtesy shuttle that I ended up having all to myself. It was quite lovely being steered in a personal ornamental wooden boat until I arrived at the dock and had to explain that my sweaty backpacker self was “meeting a friend who had a reservation in the lobby.” And with that I bounded off through the gorgeous hotel, straight for the front door and out to hail a moto to the train station—what a fraud!

I spent the rest of the afternoon on a sweaty 7 hour train ride mostly sitting by one of the doors gazing out at the rice paddies and farm land whizz by. The train finally arrived an hour late at 10pm, and I walked out of the train station in search of the Lonely Planet suggestions. While asking a shopkeeper for the London Hotel, a guy walked by and said he was staying there, just a block away. I checked in to my room (no Western style toilet was the only downfall) and joined my new friend, Rory, for a wander around the night market and yes, more food adventures. I sampled a delicious papaya salad (shredded pale green papaya, dried shrimp, palm sugar, chili, lime juice, peanuts, and more), tiny crepes filled with a kind of egg custard, and fresh coconut juice.

The next morning we were up early to sightsee briefly before heading to nearby Sukothai for the main attraction. We saw the central wat in town and searched in the vain for the statue of Buddha telling families not to quarrel that the Lonely Planet claimed to be there. Then we headed to the Buddha Foundry on the south edge of town. Here they make large bronze Buddhas for temples and personal orders. We cruised to the bus stop on a nifty front-seater moto and waited for the hour-long bus to new Sukothai, and once there caught a taxi to another taxi to rent a bike (I clearly seek out any many different transports a possible!). We spent the rest of the afternoon cycling around the incredibly peaceful, serene, and beautiful green oasis of Sukothai with just enough old temples to keep one interested. They were best maintained than those at Ayutthaya and surrounded by lakes and flowering trees. The highlight another enormous Buddha statue squashed into a not so big temple. Then it was time for me to take the taxi to the taxi to the bus back to Phitsanulok to catch my night train up to Chiang Mai. I had “splurged” on a second-class reclining seat for the overnight journey, but the train was delayed a bit, so it was time for yet another market feast—papaya salad, mini crepes, chicken skewers, and mango and sticky rice. Only the chicken skewers were a miss (you never really know what part of the chicken you’re getting, and I still don’t know what it was that I got, but it was very chewy) but can’t complain when the total meal cost was about $2 and the MSR was well, top 2 I would say, right up there with the legendary one (for me!) of Surat Thani.

The train came, I got on, and I think I slept. I mean, I don’t think I was awake, so it must have been sleep, questionably restful. Upon arrival at 6am (luckily we were an hour late as the expected time of arrival was 5am) I agreed to a tuk-tuk bargain of a complementary ride to see a guest house. Then I pulled my (now) standard maneuver of claiming to be meeting a friend in town and having difficulty getting in touch with them and being unsure if they’ve found us a room already. Then I ditch my big bag (nothing valuable really—just clothes that need to be burned at this point!) there claiming to be back as soon as I track them down. Hey a (solo) girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. Now I’ve the next few days in Chiang Mai to plan (more decisions to make!) and I think a jungle trek (elephant riding too!), cooking class, and batik course are going to be my picks from the (too) many options available. And Chiang Mai has a famous night bazaar and northern cuisine that is raved about, so I also imagine that my feasting will continue in full force!

**Technical difficulties uploading pictures (per usual). Sorry for just the boring, wordy post, but I will try to add some ASAP.**

Stuck in S'ville

I’m running a little behind schedule. Not exactly, because the only schedule I have is the one that I keep haphazardly scratching in my notebook and then revising daily, which happened 4 days in a row as I extended my time in Sihanoukville, the beach resort town of Cambodia again and again. What can I say: I was just having a really great time. Well, actually, from my last post you know that my first day at the beach was well, not a day at the beach at all, but yet another tough theft to swallow. But what followed were many fun nights out with a great little crew of people, some nice relaxing beach time, lots of partying, a great motorbike ride up along the various nearby beaches, and a nice full day scuba trip.

To snap out of my post-robbery self pity, I opted for a much needed haircut 8 months in the making. Half way through I was thinking, “so what if it’s only $5, this is just going to be the icing on the worst day at the beach ever! First robbery, now self destruction…” but it worked out alright and I enjoyed the perks of a head massage/hair wash, cut, blow dry and straightening for a bargain price and for a brief moment, felt the Laura of my former life return, the one who cares one ounce about her appearance (it was never enough for my NYC environment of course). However, the rain started that night, and puff, she evaporated as quickly as she had appeared, lost again for the next few months.

The next day, a few of us found our way to the private, quiet beach in front of the very fancy Sohka Resort. Granted we were banished to the far end allowed for public use, but we still benefited from the perks of having the beach guarded and thus void of the throngs of selling women and children. That afternoon, on my walk down to the main beach to meet the group for a sunset happy hour, I checked out a little NGO shop called Children’s Painting Project of Cambodia (http://www.travel-to-teach.org/cambodia/volunteer_sihanoukville.html). This fantastic organization is essentially doing what I hope to do with ceramics—using art as a medium to allow underprivileged children to explore their own creativity and also giving them an potential tool to improve their lives. The organization allows street kids who are selling on the beaches to come and paint pictures outside the shop. They are sold for $4, with $2 going to the child and his or her family, and the other $2 going to fund the educational program that also supplies medical care and nutritional meals. I was so excited to come across this little shop, and struck up conversation with a young woman who was volunteering there and found out more about the project.I bought four pictures! Later that night when everyone else headed off to a movie, I went down to check and see if a girl I had met in Phnom Penh had arrived in S’ville that day as expected. I couldn’t find her, but on my walk back to my guest house, I passed the little shop again, this time with it’s doors half closed but what looked like a very merry dinner party about to take place. Wine glasses were being filled and half a dozen people were gathered around a table set in the middle of the high-ceilinged room lined with children’s paintings. I popped my head in and the girl from earlier, Claire, recognized me and mentioned to everyone that I had volunteered in Uganda as I had told her. I was promptly invited in warmly and made to stay for a glass of wine, which I tried to decline but was so happy to be let into this lovely inner circle. No sooner had my glass been filled, then another guy came out carrying several heaping plates of Thai specialties that he had whipped up. And I was made to stay again, which I only half-heartedly declined. The food was delicious (even mango and sticky rice for dessert!) and the company was so pleasant—I met the other volunteers, from Australia, Switzerland, Italy, and Mexico. After two hours of schmoozing, they all headed down to a bar on the beach, and I made plans to meet up later and went to find my group. I found them at the bar of course, and spent a pleasant night group hopping.

The following day, I met up with the girl from Phnom Penh, Annabelle, and we decided to rent a motorbike and check out the other beaches in the area. We found some really lovely ones, much quieter, more local people (quite a few stares for the farang) and the best coconut shake of my life. And I learned how to ride the moto! Well, I’m still definitely a little rusty, but at least I took the first step. On our way down to our last beach stop (we visited 5!), I had a rather hair-raising moment with a bridge and an oncoming tuk-tuk, but all worked out fine in the end! The following day myself and Annabelle both signed up for a scuba trip to the island of Koh Rung Soloman, a couple hours boat ride off the coast of S’ville. I did two fun dives—the first more “muck-raking,” which is to say searching the bottom sand floor for small strange things. We saw a couple seahorses, which are truly crazy looking creatures! One even wrapped it’s tail around my little finger and I panicked—scared of a tiny thing like that. We also saw a bizarre all white, miniature bat-like fish creature that we later identified as a sea moth. After some lounging on the boat and a stop at an island fishing village, our second dive was much more colorful and full of spectacular coral and fish.

Later that night I did some more bar/group hopping as most people in our group were leaving the following day and the girl, Claire, from the Painting Project, was heaving S’ville to travel the next day. Finally, Saturday rolled around, and well, I was still in S’ville—like the other C’ville, this one seemed to be reeling me in. But it was time to recover, gather my things, repack and make plans to actually leave for real the next day for Bangkok. I booked my ticket, and had the good fortune of sending some extraneous belongings (read, a whole lotta #&% I had acquired) to Hong Kong, my final destination before flying home, with a new Scottish friend who was on his way there to begin a new job. That’s right, I fly out of Hong Kong on July 14th. That’s right: I’ve booked my ticket back to the States!!! I will be flying from Hong Kong to San Fran for a few days before making my way back to the east coast/real world! It feels a little strange but mostly good to have the trip starting to feel like it’s wrapping up. On the other hand, this way I can really enjoy my finite time here while still looking forward to seeing everyone so soon back home. And after all, there’s still Laos, Vietnam, (possibly) China, and Hong Kong to explore. Now it’s back to the land of mango and sticky rice!