1/3/2007 Bangkok and Koh Lanta, Krabi, Thailand

Note: I wrote most of the following before the New Year's Eve bombings in Bangkok. We were out of Bangkok well before 12/31/06 and while there, we were not in the areas that were bombed.



In happier news ~

After weeks of budget hotels and bamboo huts, (and especially given the travel prizie from my mama and stepdad, thanks Mom and Mel!) we decided to splash out a bit in Bangkok. So we stayed at our favorite Bangkok hotel, InterContinental Bangkok. This was a good idea especially since I had caught a cold and loved having someplace comfy to recuperate. They also have a fab-o breakfast buffet ~ comfort food including jook (rice/chicken porridge), char siu bao (steamed pork buns), miso soup, tamago, stir-fried veggies, all kinds of fruit and juices, and a perfect little chocolate croissant or donut, all in one meal. I'm sure I got better faster because of it.

As I was ill and we have been to Bangkok a couple times before, we didn't tour much there; we mostly took care of errands. Imagine our joy when, for the first time in a month, we bought a SIM card and our phones just worked, with no photo IDs or letters from police commissioners required! We saw Happy Feet at the IMAX theater; it was very funny and sweet, a well-done mix of Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Madagascar, and Over the Hedge. Bangkok had its Christmas decor up and music playing. I missed my family, so much, and was glad that before the trip I got to spend time in WA with Mom and Mel and I had a faux Thanksgiving dinner with SF Bay Area family. I'm also making extensive use of my cell phone.

Surprisingly, there was good food to be found in the Bangkok mall food court ~ a more hygienic and comprehensive version of the street stall foods (not that they should be missed either). You are given a card upon entering, and can eat from any number of cuisines, all cooked up fresh and delish as you order, and pay just one bill on the way out. We also dined at our favorite Bangkok restaurant, Le Lys, which is owned by a French/Thai couple, major yum.

We flew from Bangkok to Krabi province on the west coast, then took a taxi/ferry to the island of Koh Lanta in the Andaman Sea. Ban Saladan is the major "town," on Lanta, consisting of a few streets; we had the taxi drop us at the major intersection and went in search of Eric's German friends' dive shop, Lanta Fun Divers, which turned out to be about two doors down from the intersection. Ulli and Louise were both there, Ulli gave us a ride to his friend's resort on the beach, and Ulli and Louise joined us for drinks the first couple nights. Then Ja-el (my transliteration), owner of Where Else! resort picked us up in her vintage cream-colored Mercedes, and we have parked ourselves in sanctuary there for the duration of the holidays.

In Thailand, most businesses are owned by women, and women usually control the finances. There is also a law stating that a woman's underwear must hang on the line below her husband's. I think I could live with this, as long as I got to pick my own underwear. Who regulates these things?!

Where Else! has got da funk:
http://www.thai-tour.com/thai-tour/South/Krabi/hotel/where-else/index.html

and the folks who run it are laid back and friendly. Our simple, happy bamboo hut is our home, and comes complete with my favorite type of bathroom: outdoor (private), surrounded by a bamboo fence. Festooned with shells and coral, it is the first bathroom I've had with a palm tree growing in the middle of it. Showering in the sunshine or under the stars is bliss. Too, resident hermit crabs, geckos, frogs, and lizards make for great company.

We spend our days on Lanta getting up late (heat + humidity + activity + music playing somewhere on the beach/noisy neighbors/bleating goat herd invading restaurant in the middle of the night = us conked out early a.m.), reading/sleeping in hammocks, hiking/rock scrambling/wading to other beaches, and snorkeling, and Eric goes scuba diving.

Yesterday we took a tour to a waterfall and cave, riding on the back of an elephant. Usually I don't like attractions that exploit animals, but the story on this is that due to anti-deforestation laws invoked a couple years ago, a large number of domesticated elephants were without work/upkeep, so it was decided to use them for tourist rides. The elephants seemed well cared for. I fed mine a pineapple, which she took with her trunk and chewed whole. It was fun and I got to see part of the island I hadn't seen before. Still, the trail was tough and it seemed pretty laborious for the elephant; next time I think I'll hike it.

The gorgeous tourist beaches here are surprisingly quiet, considering that this is the busiest time of the year. Louise said that business is still slow post-tsunami/SARs/Avian flu scares. Additionally, most of the resorts here are small with around 20 or so rooms, so they don't fill up beach blanket-to- beach blanket like some tourist beaches. Also, we have found that if you go past the tourist beach, there are often undeveloped beaches and coves with fewer or no people. The undeveloped areas also still have some artifacts of the tsunami, mostly felled coconut and other trees, rusty cans, bottles, Styrofoam, and shoes--mostly flip/flops. The shoes bother me the most; I hope the owners dropped them to run better to high ground.

The hotel has nightly music; usually a DJ, with live bands on Fridays. One big party "for remembering and forgetting the tsunami" (two years ago)
featured a reggae band we enjoyed, called JOB2DO. The party was a benefit for Lanta elementary school; they raised ~13k baht, which Ja-el said was good. Locals and tourists filled the outdoor restaurant, bar, and other gathering areas. A fire spinner named Wen, friendly and lit up from the inside as well as with her spinning poi, entertained the crowd before the show.

We also had a probable, (what we call) LoveYouLongtime couple sighting at the party: a (usually) older western guy with a young Thai woman, she presumably a paid escort, although you can't always tell. She was quite bubbly, obviously intimate with him, and giggled and whispered to her Thai girlfriend while rolling her eyes in his direction. (Statistically, 90-something percent of all johns in Thailand are Thai; most prostitution is centered in only a couple of tourist areas in Thailand.)

The Thai actually have a word for middle-aged farang (foreign) women who are bitter because middle-aged western men are only interested in Thai girlfriends (have to look up that word). There's also a word for middle-aged western boyfriends who dye their hair bright red to cover up their gray while visiting their Thai GF's relatives in the provinces: Ronald McBoyfriend.

One day we went snorkeling at Koh Ha (translation: five islands) with Ulli and Louise's crew, other snorkelers, and a few scuba divers. The first dive was close to a beach, where we saw coral, sea cucumber, barracuda, parrot fish (so colorful and pretty!), rabbit fish, purple star fish, and jellyfish, among others. Also cool was swimming over the scuba divers, watching them walk like moon men on the ocean floor, and me swimming through their air bubbles, which floated up like mushroom-shaped jellyfish.

On the second dive, we parked the boat on the other side of the island, with no beach. One of the dive masters told me and Eric that there was a lot to see at the far point of the island, so Eric and I made our way there, enjoying the view as the current carried us to the point. After a while, the current got stronger and choppier, and visibility became poor. We decided to make our way back toward the boat, turned onto our backs, and started kicking our flippered feet against the now quite forceful current. I kicked and kicked, but didn't feel like I was getting anywhere; using a big indentation in the rockface as a marker confirmed this as I kept swimming as hard as I could, checking the marker every few minutes. After some time, I became fatigued and discouraged as I realized I had been moving farther out away from the island and Eric, but no closer to the boat. Eric was farther along than I and said that I was making some progress, it was just slow. So I kept kicking and stroking, hard as I could. I started feeling like I couldn't keep it up, but if I stopped the current would take me farther out or swallow me altogether. I could see how people could panic, or lose all strength and drown. I wondered if there was some point where they just gave up or if the waves made that decision for them. I knew I couldn't make it all the way to the boat. I called to Eric (who has taken dive master emergency lessons and has helped save one person) to wait for me and asked him if he could help tow me. I finally made my way to him and we linked arms, kicking together. Still it seemed we weren't getting anywhere. Finally the boat started up, picking us up and then rounding the bend to pick up other divers.

In the last year, a National Parks tax was instituted for all divers, to be collected by the dive shops and turned over to roaming tax collectors. The tax started at 20 baht and is now 400 baht. The dive shops have not liked having to handle this because it made them less competitive than some who were not collecting; additionally, no receipts are given for taxes collected. Many dive shops have chosen not to participate. So today, we heard that the government is sending armed boats out to dive sites, to collect the tax before anyone dives, at gunpoint if necessary. Just one reason our little fantasy of opening our own island resort remains a fantasy.

One day we walked, rock scrambled, and waded along several beaches to find Otto, proprietor of Otto's Bar and restaurant. Otto's Bar had been demolished in the tsunami, and Otto rebuilt a few beaches down. Otto and his bar have both been upgraded; his bar/restaurant is now much larger (funk retained) and Otto is married with child. Sad note: Eric remembers when Otto used to sew coffee filters by hand; now Otto has switched to Nescafe! Happy note: the tamarind prawns still rock.

On New Year's Eve, we took a nap from 8:30 p.m. to 11:30 p.m., then sat on the beach as people shot off fireworks. Up and down the coast, people lit and let fly Chinese lanterns. These are papery rectangles with a fire lit underneath; as with hot air balloons, the heat from the fire makes the lantern fly. They ascended like graceful ghosts from along the expanse of the beach, and caught an air current that brought them all together at one point in the sky.

Here's our (subject to inevitable change) schedule for January and February:

Thailand:
Jan 4: Leave Lanta, arrive on Phuket
Jan 5: Leave Phuket, arrive in Ranong
Jan 6: Visa run (to extend our Thai visas) from Ranong Thailand to Myanmar and back
Jan 7: Leave Ranong, arrive Champhon
Jan 8: Leave Champhon, arrive Phetchuburi
Jan 9-11: Phetchuburi -- cool temples and stuff
Jan 12: Leave Phatchuburi, arrive Ayuttaya
Jan 13-24 Ayuttaya --ruins, _____?___ National Park
Jan 25: Leave Ayuttaya, arrive Aranya
Jan 26: Leave Aranya

Cambodia
Jan 26: Arrive Siem Reap
Jan 27-Feb 1: Explore Ankor (temples/ruins)
Feb 2: Leave Siem Reap, arrive Phnom Penh
Feb 3: Leave Phnom Penh (Or stay a day or so more; Eric's friend has an apartment there)

Vietnam
Feb 3: Leave Phnom Penh, arrive Ho Chi Min City/Saigon (HCMC)
Feb 4: Visit HCMC
Feb 5: Leave HCMC
Feb 7: Arrive Hoi An
Feb 8-20: Explore Hoi An, daytrips, FEB 10 DRINKIES!!!
Feb 21 Leave Hoi An for other Vietnam destinations, TBD

12/9/2006 Alleppy, Kerala and Paloem Beach, Goa, India

As we sat getting our bearings in the Alleppy train station, a woman wearing a burka sat down nearby, watching us. All I could see of her were two big, dark eyes behind a small oval mesh screen. I tried to imagine being her, based on what I've heard and read. I thought of the sticky heat of wearing a black sheet in such hot weather, having to turn my head to see peripherally (it's said this is so one's husband knows where one is looking), breathing in the lunch smells of my own own breath, feeling invisible, perhaps having known a freer time, having been encultured or perhaps beaten into believing that this was for my own dignity and protection. The California Girl in me wanted to throw off this woman's shroud, take her hand, and drag her laughing and dancing to the Lilith Faire. Then hand her a few books. I know a few wimmenz who would help.

Alleppy is a busy little town with two major canals running through it. Ferries, tour boats, and houseboats run the town canals and into the Keralan backwater canals and a large lake. The last street along the canal in town winds into a shady lane full of friendly people, their homes dilapidated, modest, or middle-class, tiny shops, guesthouses, cows, dogs, goats, and chickens. After 2.5 km, the lane intersects the road leading to our guesthouse, Palm Grove Lake Resort. On one trek into town, a crew of 10 boys, ages six to ten, dragged Eric into a game of football (soccer). People of all ages came running out of houses, yards, and even a churchyard to talk to us. One woman, standing in front of a small, dark home, said that her husband is working in Boston. What different worlds he lives between.

Palm Grove consists of five lovely bamboo cottages along a canal on three acres of family land owned by Mr. Abraham Philips and his wife Maria. Mr. Abraham seems the quintessential gentle-man, kind and soft spoken. He took us on an impromptu tour of his property: coconut palms, banana and mango trees, green peppercorn vines, a fish pond. While I've cooked with my share of cinnamon sticks (from the bark of the tree), I'd never seen a cinnamon tree before. The leaves were bright green, shaped like bay leaves, and tasted of sweet, vibrant cinnamon. Mr. Abraham also turned me on to my first betel nut. Betel nut is a mild stimulant, good for digestion, turns red in the mouth, and over time causes tooth decay. It is shaped like a kiwi and is similar in texture to raw coconut. After our tour, the chef surprised me with betel nut as the locals partake of it: small chunks of betel nut wrapped in a betel nut leaf with a spritz of lime, and folded into a neat little package. The idea is to pop the whole affair into your mouth, chew away, then spit it out when you're done with it. As I was still having residual tummy troubles, and wasn't used to having so much raw leafage in my mouth, I took a few bites and handed the rest to Eric. Once you have it all chewed down, the taste is bright and tart but not to the point of bitterness. And I have to say, afterwards my stomach was better and I felt downright perky.

We spent two days in gliding meditation on a houseboat slipping through the Keralan backwaters. The boat was constructed mostly of wood, thatched palm leaves, and bamboo, with a comfy bedroom and bath, Aneesh's kitchen domain, an upper deck, and a lower deck with two throne-like chairs (ours!) right behind Suresh, our captain. The shores of the canals were stuffed with palm and other trees.

On the small strips of land between canals or between canals and rice paddies, small houses made of cement, thatched palm, or both contained the human life of the backwaters. In front of each house, a few steps led down into the canal. At all hours, in front of most houses, women performed laundry: standing ankle or knee-deep in their saris on the steps, scrubbing clothing or bedding with soap, dunking it in the olive green canal water, swish swish swish, grabbing both ends, twirling, twisting, then THWACKing it on the granite steps, over and over, in a circular motion. You could hear the thwacking, like gunshots, from far down the canal. Then more dunking, swirling, twisting, until finally the woman stepped out of the water, snapped the article open and flat, and hung it on the line.

The canal also serves every other washing purpose for the family, from teeth brushing, hairwashing, and bathing to washing up after the family meal. Women wore their saris or salwar kameezes to fully immerse themselves while bathing and while washing pots and dishes. Men bathed in shorts. Small children were bathed in shorts or nude.

At night we pulled up along the bank, tied the anchoring ropes around coconut trees, and Aneesh fixed us a wonderful dinner of thalis. Before dinner the first night, as it was starting to get dark, Eric and I took a walk along the canal path, between the canal and a rice paddy. People living along the bank came out of their houses and yards to greet us. Many had set out and lit white candles in front of their part of the canal bank in preparation for one of their festivals of lights.

In the early morning, groups of children dressed in English-style school uniforms and backpacks marched along the banks or were ferried to school.

The usual Indian wildlife of goats, pigs, cows, and chickens ran along the bank. We also saw some huge flocks of ducks, like a thousand or more at a time. At one point, a couple of men in canoes attempted to herd the ducks. We wished them good luck.

Canoes seemed to be the main mode of transportation here; they carried families to and fro and once in a while men in canoes loaded with prawns pulled up to us for a sale.

We stopped to see a couple sights. One was a Catholic church built in 1590. The mix of traditional European Catholic and Hindu art featured a colorful serpent's head coming out of the wall, its tongue lashing up for 10 feet to create the pulpit. The neatly kept graveyard in back housed about fifty fresh-looking, marked mounds. The dead are kept here for five years then exhumed, their bones added to a mass grave in back, making room for new occupants up front. We also stopped to see a snake boat that had won the Nehru Snake Boat Race. The snake boat is a long canoe, seating 100 rowers plus an orchestra.

I am typing this into my Treo via my fabric keyboard, as I sit cross-legged on a pillow at a cafe on Paloem beach in Goa. Directly before me lays the white sand beach; about 200 feet from me gentle waves break with about as much effort as anyone else is making here. The sky is clear, the air warm and breezy. Someone just handed me a lemon soda. Slow life good.

This is definitely a tourist beach, with some locals enjoying the sand and water (these would be the boys and men), and selling wares. It is not the famous Goa rave beaches, though. Most folks here are friendly and mellow. Especially happy was having Jess run up and surprise us on the beach; we had left her and Joel in Varkala and originally met them in Ooty...Okay, I just remembered one annoying tourist group. Five good looking Europeans, svelte, bronze, 30s-ish, who lay claim to five of the twelve or so umbrella-ed beach chairs in front of our cafe, laying their sarongs down then going off to play or eat, then re-claiming the chairs, all day long. One of them had a stand-off with another fellow who took the first guy's empty chair, standing in front of him until the guy moved. It's okay, though. Perhaps in their next lives, they will the ones trying to sell jewelry on the beach to feed their five children in Rajasthan. Or maybe they will be the small fat flies in the bamboo shack bathroom, carefully placing their tiny sarongs somewhere dank and horrid. Not that I would wish this on anyone ~ I'm just sayin'.

And what's up with the dogs?! In Varkala and here, by day they are happy playful puppies. By night, they form a herd, harass the cows (and bulls!), and howl like banshees. Mayhem, I tell you.

Tomorrow we are flying to Bangkok. We'll be there are couple days to run errands (like either get a new digital camera or find a USB cable and charger, and get the pics I've taken with travel cameras digitized). After that, Ko Lanta for more beachy holiday goodness, until around 1/6.