tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12059844437837889882024-03-12T17:30:46.401-07:00Indochine And BeyondKatherine Doyle, writer, and Ian Cameron, photographer, embarked on a working holiday to S.E. Asia and Nepal in early 2011.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1205984443783788988.post-85928959495769537662011-05-03T16:22:00.000-07:002011-05-05T11:23:30.574-07:00April 8-13: Alone in Kathmandu<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When I bought my amethyst ring in LP Ian teased me “Becoming Bonnie?!” Now that I’m here I really feel like Bonnie – checking up on everyone and where the money is going.</span><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b0LeYE9Bjds/TcCOtjxdMtI/AAAAAAAAAVA/az4voJtFqX0/s1600/Coral_Grouper_2739-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b0LeYE9Bjds/TcCOtjxdMtI/AAAAAAAAAVA/az4voJtFqX0/s320/Coral_Grouper_2739-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s_m3ybgS7Cs/TcCOwehkbGI/AAAAAAAAAVE/GeADuaKU4kc/s1600/Ian_night_dive_2848-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s_m3ybgS7Cs/TcCOwehkbGI/AAAAAAAAAVE/GeADuaKU4kc/s320/Ian_night_dive_2848-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ian meanwhile is diving in Thailand on a three night live-aboard cruise. He will join me here in a week.</span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">On Sat a.m. I walked up to Arubari. Pleasant surprise – the
road from Boudha is laid with flagstones, very nice. There’s only a small piece
of rough road left. But it still takes about 30 minutes to get to CH.
</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9OGp0917qVI/TcCLa1p2gVI/AAAAAAAAAUw/_stqDVU1MdE/s1600/Sujan_%2526_Sajan_%2526_K-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9OGp0917qVI/TcCLa1p2gVI/AAAAAAAAAUw/_stqDVU1MdE/s320/Sujan_%2526_Sajan_%2526_K-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I met Sabina and Sujan on the road. They were on their way
to his school to get his final marks for the term. Sujan is 11 now, seems tiny
to me and is missing his front teeth. But he still has a radiant smile.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-25DZ1J6KK3E/TcCLMiGQy_I/AAAAAAAAAUg/rI62pWUz2yw/s1600/CHI_Girls_dorm-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-25DZ1J6KK3E/TcCLMiGQy_I/AAAAAAAAAUg/rI62pWUz2yw/s320/CHI_Girls_dorm-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">CH was almost empty. Most of the didi’s took a long day trip
to visit a temple and many of the children were away at their families for
school break.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I saw a few of the children – the ‘bad boys, 15 – 16 year
olds - Padam, Damodar, Raju.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Kabita with the dimples. I reminded her of when she played
‘sano hati’ in the Just Like I Am play. Her face lit up! Kalpana, still on
guard and fearful. Rabita, Anju, Bimala, Sunita, Ritika.</span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UxqZU05zwMs/TcCLQJim7YI/AAAAAAAAAUk/xcoD7wrafoo/s1600/Krishna%2527s_family_%2526_K-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UxqZU05zwMs/TcCLQJim7YI/AAAAAAAAAUk/xcoD7wrafoo/s320/Krishna%2527s_family_%2526_K-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Binita walked me over to Krishna’a house. When they opened
the door and saw me it was as though Lord Krishna himself was appearing to
them. A very, very warm welcome.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Krishna is a star – first in his class for grades 6 and 7.
He won a national poetry competition. I’m relieved to be able to tell Doug that
he’s ‘backing a winner. I tried to focus on Kabita too. She’s 4<sup>th</sup> in
her class.
</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Arjun and I met with Sajan and Sabina to encourage him to
pull up his socks. He’s leaning toward the ‘bad side’, hanging around with the
tough kids on the street. We’re in a dilemma about whether or not to continue
supporting him. </span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">One day walking back down the road to Boudha I saw a dog,
one of many. This poor fellow was inching forward on his belly (probably a
broken back). He’d put one front paw forward a couple of inches and then bring
the other one forward. His hind legs dragged along the pavement behind him. He
was a medium size dog, looked well fed and didn’t seem to be in pain. He kept
his big handsome head up; was stoic and persevering. My heart was breaking. Of
course, being where I was (monks and stupas as far as the eye could see) I
couldn’t help but think of Karma. I’ll never forget the image of him crawling
across the road one paw length at a time.</span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Many of the same beggars are here. The chubby, legless,
smiling man in the wheelchair; the contracted wry neck man who moves in a jerky
squat; the blind leper wrapped in rags; the young monk who sits cross-legged
rocking from side to side reciting prayers and chants. </span>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-84jX2rpkdgs/TcCLW6mwW2I/AAAAAAAAAUs/jb4egoKptHk/s1600/Marsang3-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-84jX2rpkdgs/TcCLW6mwW2I/AAAAAAAAAUs/jb4egoKptHk/s320/Marsang3-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Marsang and I went to VFS together. The visa process seems
straightforward. The VFS woman was helpful and told Marsang to use the computer
in the office. The idea that we would sponsor her seemed ordinary and usual. I
was relieved.</span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’ve bought a lot of stuff to sell at home – silk, fine
wool, cashmere, felted wool stuff. I hope friends at home are in the mood to
shop! </span>
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’m staying at a Tibetan hotel in a Tibetan neighbourhood in
the stupa enclosure. I’m sitting on my bed, door open, prayer flags fluttering
from every rooftop. All those prayers going to the gods and still most Nepalis
are impoverished and the Tibetans are in exile.
</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tibetans seem to like dogs. The building across from me has
balconies and there are two lovely pooches that I like to watch. One has a
reddish bristly coat and short fiddle legs. His legs look too small for him and
his voice gives it away. He really is a big dog in a small body. He has a deep,
chesty bark. The other dog is a white long-haired pretty thing! </span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>April 13: New Year’s Eve</b></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b>
</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b>
</span><span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span>
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUyBqn-L7fQ/TcCLJUpLwPI/AAAAAAAAAUc/mXt5fBbYhg4/s1600/Boudha_stupa_eyes-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OUyBqn-L7fQ/TcCLJUpLwPI/AAAAAAAAAUc/mXt5fBbYhg4/s320/Boudha_stupa_eyes-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Walking around the stupa dusk to dark. Everyone keeps up a
good pace – an odd combination of tranquility and purposefulness. The sounds:
children’s playground noises, a successful cocktail party, chanting, talking in
tongues, clanging bells, crashing cymbals, pounding drums, blaring horns.
Oddly, amidst the reverence, the roar of the garbage truck and the urgent
TWEET, TWEET, TWEET of the rubbish collector’s whistle. </span>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Someone hands me a candle and I go round and round trying to
be meditative and calm but being stimulated by everything. I notice things
about the stupa that I’ve never noticed before. Small niches in the wall (about
the size of a very generous piece of pie), inside each niche a very
ancient-looking Buddha image. People put candles inside the niches – one, two,
three, even four candles. Candles everywhere on the stupa, high and low. A
small shrine in the side of the stupa about six feet square, monks spilling out
of it chanting, clanging, crashing, blaring. </span>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What do the Tibetans-in-exile wish for on a new year’s eve?
This week two young Tibetan men – sons of men who came here as children in the
50’s and 60’s – spoke to me about their homelessness, statelessness. Unable to
leave here but unable to feel at home in the place where they were born.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pacing round and round the stupa I remember the undeniable
blessing of the life I have this time around. </span>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The chaos of the old market area of Kathmandu:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Narrow streets, no sidewalks, shops opening onto and
spilling out to the streets. Copper, brass, stainless steel, saris, shoes,
shawls, flutes, icons, brassieres – all of it pushing out toward you. And
shoppers, hawkers, gawkers, rickshaws, motorcycles and the odd car pushing,
pushing. </span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And in the midst of it all, a road crew repairing the huge
holes in the road. First shoveling rock out of the back of a truck that is
almost completely blocking the already narrow road.
</span><span style="font-size: large;">The rock goes into rickety
wheelbarrows with flat tires and gets wheeled to the holes. Then dribbling hot,
black, sticky, liquid tar from paint cans with holes punched in the bottoms
onto the rocks. Then laying black chunky stuff (asphalt?) over the sticky tar.
Finally rolling over it with a hand roller to press it flat. By the time the
last step is done the new parts have cigarette butts, pink binding tape,
wrappers of all sorts, paan spittle and marigold petals pressed into them. I thought, ‘Why not close the road for a couple of hours?’
Sure enough at the top of the street there was a metal barricade and two
fresh-faced young ‘officers’ in some kind of uniform all intended to close the
street and all being pushed aside and ignored. Vendors and buyers rule! </span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RFHKkimVues/TcCMkb5CQ7I/AAAAAAAAAU0/-v3njaOztKE/s1600/Mom_Bishnu_Marsang-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RFHKkimVues/TcCMkb5CQ7I/AAAAAAAAAU0/-v3njaOztKE/s320/Mom_Bishnu_Marsang-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I went shopping with Marsang to buy saris for her mom and
grandmom. Both sari shops were about the size of a queen size bed. I sat
silently while I watched the sari seller unfurl at least a dozen saris. As the
saris unfurled, noxious
gasoline-like fumes filled the small space. The seller was up to his knees in
saris. Much chit chat back and forth and then Marsang gave a slight jerk of her
head and walked out.
</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span>
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The ritual was repeated at the next place. The sari seller
was my age and the only word Marsang spoke that I got was ‘uncle’. Much
comparing, discussing, bargaining and calculating and finally consensus. I paid
and as we left I thought I was the only one who was satisfied. Marsang thought
I should have paid less and uncle thought I should have paid more. I was just
happy it was over.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1205984443783788988.post-55633415868716498762011-04-28T09:04:00.000-07:002011-05-05T07:28:06.749-07:00April 14 -24: Nepal to home<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g8-HZjkPOOM/TbmR2DSGGPI/AAAAAAAAAUE/1Wj04RgyDn8/s1600/Sunset_Thulo_Parcel-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g8-HZjkPOOM/TbmR2DSGGPI/AAAAAAAAAUE/1Wj04RgyDn8/s320/Sunset_Thulo_Parcel-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>April 14 </b></span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Baisakh 1 in the Bikram Sambat calendar. I hesitate to say Nepal new year because there is also Nepal Samvat and that new year is in November. I think Nepal Samvat is restricted to the KTM Valley – maybe it’s Newari, the ethnic people of the valley. Then there is the Tibetan new year which is in February (the lunar Chinese new year perhaps?)</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>April 15-16</b>: <b>Kavre District Thulo Parsel</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Up at 5 a.m., meet Bahadur and family at 6 a.m., to catch the 7 a.m. bus to their village.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">[As we left the hotel there was evidence of an ‘incident’. Some large terracotta pots on the landings were overturned and cracked. In the lobby a large stainless steel floor ashtray (remember those?) was overturned. In the passageway from the lobby to the front door there was a scene of multiple decapitation! The passageway is decorated with four-foot dolls in traditional Tibetan dress. Two or three were knocked over with their heads lolling beside them. A mystery!]</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The bus ride was hellish mostly because of the screeching Indian music. The women singers sounded like Alvin the Chipmunk with his balls caught in a mangle. Add Mantovani violins and bombastic John Williams arrangements – mind-numbing even with ear plugs.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">After we left the paved road Ian got on top of the bus! A young man took his seat and struck up a conversation with me. How did he think that was possible?! Ian enjoyed the top of the bus and took lots of pix. The drop-offs were shear, long and unprotected. Because the road is so narrow the front of the bus actually goes over the drop-off while the front wheels stay on the road.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Six and a half hours later we arrived. A big change from 1989 when it took a 2 or 3 hour bus ride and two days trekking.</span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5rg7I9eJRGM/TcI-nG7KcxI/AAAAAAAAAVk/2uwcvVlaB4k/s1600/Marsang_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5rg7I9eJRGM/TcI-nG7KcxI/AAAAAAAAAVk/2uwcvVlaB4k/s320/Marsang_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A big change at the farm is that they have a bio-gas plant. They use buffalo and ox dung to create gas for cooking. They still burn wood and corn cobs too but much less than before. A Dutch NGO put lots of them in the village. Two buffalo and two oxen create enough gas to cook for 4 or 5 people for a day.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another change is that the village is wired for electricity. They only have it about 6 hours a day (load shedding) and only have 8 light bulbs (no espresso machines) but it’s progress. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DR3CvR8Cy1c/TbmQzHU15-I/AAAAAAAAATs/NyNwxUI8XJg/s1600/Harvesting_wheat_Nepal-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DR3CvR8Cy1c/TbmQzHU15-I/AAAAAAAAATs/NyNwxUI8XJg/s320/Harvesting_wheat_Nepal-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We watched 3 or 4 women harvest a wheat field beside Bahadur’s house. They used small hand scythes. They cut and bound the sheaves and lay them down where they cut them. Eventually they made piles of sheaves about 5x3x3 feet that they bound together then lifted onto their backs and carried away. The field was about the size of baseball diamond. They worked from morning ‘til night and part of the next day.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ian walked with Phursang when she took the goats out to graze. He didn’t know what he was in for! They came back about three hours later. Ian was exhausted and he wasn’t carrying a huge basket of fodder on his back like Phursang.</span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xmb0_wml7Sk/TbmRzM1G5cI/AAAAAAAAAUA/jMjX76pWOpo/s1600/Portering_what_Nepal-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xmb0_wml7Sk/TbmRzM1G5cI/AAAAAAAAAUA/jMjX76pWOpo/s320/Portering_what_Nepal-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Later in the day Phursang was helping her friend. They were carrying big bags of sand on their backs. All the portering is done with the load suspended from a band around the forehead. It gives me whiplash just watching.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The village, fields and terraces were mostly brown. Planting will start after the rain starts.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A second benefit from the bio-gas plant is that the dung is still available as fertilizer after the gas is extracted. The mechanism ‘vomits’ (that was Marsang’s word) the used dung into a holding ‘pond’. It’s shoveled out, dried out and then carried to their fields. Ian and I marveled at the fact that ‘poor little Nepal’ is using such sensible practices while at home we use one valuable resource – water – to get rid of another valuable resource – shit. The Fraser Valley could produce masses of energy with all the cattle, horses, chickens they have.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PWOpnfqvXw0/TbmQuWQ4IwI/AAAAAAAAATo/p3t7-z2jsCo/s1600/Badahur_dinner-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PWOpnfqvXw0/TbmQuWQ4IwI/AAAAAAAAATo/p3t7-z2jsCo/s320/Badahur_dinner-web.jpg" width="213" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">We saw a man ploughing his field (two oxen and a wooden hand plough). I asked Bahadur why he was doing it so early. He had put his dung on the field too early and had to plough it in before the wind blew it away.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Bahadur killed one of his roosters for dinner. It was tasty and surprisingly tender. I didn’t witness the slaughter but was surprised to see it with his head still on.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I learned that nanny goats have litters. There were lots of kids around but only three nannies. I asked if they bought some kids. Marsang had to explain the facts of goat life to me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2Qr07f9QijI/TbmQqU-Eb8I/AAAAAAAAATk/45o_GiSqd7M/s1600/Badahur%2527s+Mother-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2Qr07f9QijI/TbmQqU-Eb8I/AAAAAAAAATk/45o_GiSqd7M/s320/Badahur%2527s+Mother-web.jpg" width="215" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">Mom, Bahadur’s mother, took our facial features one by one – nose, chin, eye, the other eye, cheek, the other cheek in her fingers and then kissed her fingers. Then one breast, the other breast, then my crotch. She showed some discretion in not going for Ian’s crotch!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ian and I were having a lie-down. Mom came into the room and motioned for me to kiss Ian. I did. Mom laughed and cackled and ran out of the room. I felt like a porn star.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Bahadur took us to the village temple. Someone unlocked the door for us and before too long a monk showed up – kind of a rough, countryside monk – no fancy manicure like the guys in Cambodia. There was an icon of Bairab. I’ve forgotten what his role is but I’m curious to find out.</span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>April 17: Boudha</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Aip6CzN4ORA/TbmReVrxf5I/AAAAAAAAATw/JpMr43ziFOo/s1600/Ian+at+stupa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Aip6CzN4ORA/TbmReVrxf5I/AAAAAAAAATw/JpMr43ziFOo/s320/Ian+at+stupa.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We hired an SUV for the return voyage – 3 hours in blessed peace and quiet. When we got back to Boudha there was some festival underway around the stupa. Apparently a 3 day Tamang affair that goes from Boudha to Swayambu to who knows where.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ian and I went out – just to walk 100 meters to a coffee bar. We got caught in a bottleneck of humanity. I felt panic rising. I thought about people being trampled to death and understood viscerally how that’s possible. Just as the panic was rising the bottleneck eased and we were spilled into an open space a few steps from our destination.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The festivities went on until 10 p.m. It was more carnival-like than spiritual – dancing, screeching music from enormous but ineffective sound systems, popcorn, food stalls, flute sellers. But there was also a lot of rice being strewn about and burned, incense and chanting. We learned that it’s mostly a Tamang women’s thing and it is about honouring dead relatives and ancestors.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>April 18: Women's Foundation</b></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ian and I emerged from our hotel on Monday morning feeling safe – that the revelers had moved on to another holy site. But … there was another event underway! Purnima, the monthly full moon hoopla. More chanting, burning and drumming.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ian and I went to Arunima Secondary to meet Kesab Joshi. He was proud and happy to show us nothing – classroom after classroom with nothing in them except some old wooden desks. He’s looking for help to attract English speaking volunteers.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Then on to the Women’s Foundation just to say hello. Suzanne mentioned something about a video and – BAM – we were right into it. We worked from 1 to 6 p.m. shooting the Production Center, the office, Mother’s Home. The more I see the more I realize that the need is bottomless. And that’s only in social services – education, housing, health.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">All the children at Mother’s Home have been sexually abused and have been rescued, apprehended from their abusers. One girl was gambled away by her father to a man who married her to his leper son! The WF mobilized the government to intervene and annul the marriage. </span><style>
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DkxJ89t8Sd8/Tb-OMZPui3I/AAAAAAAAAUI/qjNZH8rSVY8/s1600/Remu+%2526+girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DkxJ89t8Sd8/Tb-OMZPui3I/AAAAAAAAAUI/qjNZH8rSVY8/s320/Remu+%2526+girls.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>April 20, 21, 22: Ayurveda Health Home</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">The cast: </span></div><ul><li><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Vladimir,</i> Russian PR tycoon with a New Age twist. Bald, shiny head, intense blue eyes and a very smooth, deceiving complexion. He had some laser treatment to decrease the prominence of some scarring on his fright jaw and now he looks about 25 though he is 40. </span></li>
</ul><ul><li><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Sylvia</i> and her 13 yo daughter <i>Milena</i>. Sylvia is an Ayurveda junkie and comes every year from Austria for an overhaul.</span></li>
</ul><ul><li><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Gerry.</i> Rich American Maharishi devotee with bad skin and a proselytizing bent. I heard her discussing (read lecturing) various people about TM and the Maharishi and the Vedas and diet and basti (enemas). She even cornered Ian and somehow connected concern about some modern day plague like pollution to the myth of Ravenna and what the Maharishi said. </span></li>
</ul><ul><li><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Mary</i>, Gerry’s companion and caregiver. Also a Maharishi devotee but toned down and doing her own thing while Gerry does the full meal Ayurvedic deal.</span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Gerry and Mary – 6 weeks and counting.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Vladimir – 28 days.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Sylvia and Milena 14 days.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Us – 3 days!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">They are very into Ayurveda, enemas and all. Ian and I just want to relax and get the smog out of our lungs.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>April 23: Child Haven</b></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kx6dNn0YZ5Q/Tb-bb2zqE8I/AAAAAAAAAUU/yqoUhr4HtZ4/s1600/CHI_Kathy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kx6dNn0YZ5Q/Tb-bb2zqE8I/AAAAAAAAAUU/yqoUhr4HtZ4/s320/CHI_Kathy.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">In the p.m. we went up to Child Haven. We saw lots of kids and didi’s. It was humbling to realize that everyone didn’t remember my name and hadn’t been thinking of me non-stop since 2008! But we got a warm welcome regardless. I was very happy to be there. Ian said I was radiant!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">We spoke with Ruth, a volunteer from Sydney, BC. I liked her attitude.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Who did I see? <i>Nirmala</i>, still very quiet. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Kalpana</i>, leaning toward fashion design of all things! She and <i>Priyanka</i> mimicked Ruth and me and were howling with laughter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Shreejana</i>, wearing stylish glasses now. She made a point of giving us a serious, heartfelt goodbye at the gate.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Damodar</i> walked out with us. He’s starting grade 10 and doesn’t seem very optimistic about his future.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Raju</i> – Ian told him he’d be a good model – so good-looking. I think he actually blushed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Tiluk</i> – tall, confident, handsome, despite his scars. I told Ruth what a creative artist he is.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Lalit </i>- wouldn’t come close.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Iswora</i> – adolescent stand-offishness</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Meera, Neeru, Padam and Dolma</i> and many more I didn’t know.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">That ol’ bottomless need.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>April 24: Last half day in KTM</b></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xnoYqjxpFSU/Tb-b3V-1z4I/AAAAAAAAAUY/K0ko7nz1Q3I/s1600/Cow_Durbar_Square.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xnoYqjxpFSU/Tb-b3V-1z4I/AAAAAAAAAUY/K0ko7nz1Q3I/s320/Cow_Durbar_Square.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">6 a.m. to Durbar Square – got to get some tourist activity in. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Puja, puja, puja. Incense, marigolds, bell ringing, vermillion tikkas.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">In Boudha it’s Buddha, in Kathmandu it’s Kali and Krishna – but it’s all devout, ordinary and integral.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: large;">Thunder and lightening storm when we arrived in BKK. A dark and stormy night, the sky lit up pink with sheets of lightning. </span></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1205984443783788988.post-78813111528815694802011-04-13T05:23:00.000-07:002011-05-04T21:45:13.508-07:00April 7 Bangkok to Kathmandu<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">One night in Bangkok we went to a very busy farang area near Khaosan Road – a guidebook recommendation. Bars, massage parlours, souvenirs, restaurants chock-a-block. We had huge grilled prawns.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">As we were walking down the street on our way to find a tuk-tuk to take us home we heard a blues guitar riff. A bar with small tables on the sidewalk, a man on guitar and a woman singing. Janis, Stevie Rae, Honky Tonk Woman, Born Under a Bad Sign and more. Every now and then the woman’s Thai accent came through …”…drinking from Flyday night to Sunday morning”. She wore black jeans, high tops, a big t-shirt, very un-Thai-like.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The man was unidentifiable – he could have been Afro-American, Latino, Samoan or all three or something else entirely. Long, fuzzy, ugly hair, huge head, big nose, scarred face and a smoking fag hanging from his bottom lip, smoke curling into his eyes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We sipped Jameson’s and loved every note. Then a wild tuk-tuk ride home. The driver was probably on yaa baa (Thai crystal meth). We learned a lot about Thai ‘culture’ from John Burdett!</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Kathmandu</b></span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">On Sat a.m. I walked up the road to Aru Bari. Pleasant surprise - the road from Boudha is paved with flagstones - very nice. There's only one samll piece of unpaved road.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I met Sabina and Sujan on the toad (FORGIVE THE ERRORS - MOST OF THE LETTERS HAVE RUBBED OFF THE KEYS) oops! Sujan is 11 yo now, seems tiny to me and is missing some front teeth but he still has a radiant smile that melts my cold cold heart.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Child Haven was almost empty. The didis were off on a one-day visit to a shrine and many of the children have gome to their families - school break.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I saw a few of the children - the 'bad boys' - 15-16 yo's and some of the others Kabita with the dimples. I reminded her of when she palyed 'sanu hati' in the "Just Like I Am' play. Her face lit up! Kalpana, still guarded and fearful. Ramita, Anju, Sunita, Bimala, Ritika.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Benita walked me to Krishna's (it seems everyone has moved to berrer digs). When they opened the door it was as if Lord Krishna himself was appearing to them. A very very warm welcome.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Krishna is a star - first in his class for the last two years and winner of a national poetry competition. I'm relieved to be able to tell Doug that he is 'backing a winner'. I try to focus on Kabita - she's fourth in her class!</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Arjun and I met Sajan and his mother to encourage him to' pull up his socks'. He's leaning toward the bad side. I'm in a dilemma about supporting him.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">One day walking back to Boudha I saw a dog - one of many. This poor fellow was inching his way across the pavement on his belly (broken back?). His hind legs were dragging straight out behind him. He was well-nourished and didn't seem to be in pain. He was stoic, persevering. My heart was breaking. Of course being where I am (stupas and monks as far as the eye can see) I couldn't help but think of karma. I'll never forget the image of him crawling across the road.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Many of the same beggars are still here - the chubby legless man in the w/c, the contracted wry neck man who moves in a squat, the blind leper wrapped in rags.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Marsang and I went to VFS together. The visa process seems straightforward. The woman at VFS was very helpful and encouraging.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Kathmandu is without electricity about 12-16 hours per day. Imagine Vancouver in the same state. There is always the steady rumble of generators in the background. Energy is energy. Generators take fuel too. I wonder if the minister of energy has a sideline in selling generators! He was attacked the other day with a kukuri (big blade) - injuries to head and hand. No wonder. I'm sure people trying to go about their day-to-day lives would like to be able to rely on electricity. I'm certainly put out - I tried to order an espresso the other day but there was no electricity for the machine!</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I've bought a lot of stuff to sell at home. I hope everyone is in a mood to buy!</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'm staying at a Tibetan hotel in a Tibetan neighbourhood. Sitting on the bed with the door open, prayer flags fluttering from every rooftop. All those prayers going to the gods and still too many Nepalis are impoverished and the Tibetans are homeless.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ian is coming to Nepal tomorrow - the blog will improve with his photos!!</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1205984443783788988.post-6249031530130632322011-04-08T04:49:00.000-07:002011-05-04T21:45:37.811-07:00March 30 Luang Prabang, Laos<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>March 30 to April 5: </b><b>Luang Prabang, Laos </b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Luang Prabang, city of markets. There’s the morning market, the night market, the Phousy market, the Hmong market and more. The morning market takes place in quiet, residential streets near our guesthouse. It’s mostly for food and mostly for locals.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">One of the more interesting food products was a creature residing inside a hard brown sphere the size of a baseball. We passed a woman holding a brown ball in the palm of her hand and hitting it very precisely with a heavy blade. She hit it a few times, cracking the ball in half and there nestled inside was a live, ugly, translucent, grayish-yellow, scaly, articulated bug. It was the size of a small apricot. It was only after watching the ‘extraction’ that I noticed she had a large bowl full of them for sale.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tL1RrqCiyqE/TZ7z3QI6kNI/AAAAAAAAASs/WqAO92HcPig/s1600/L.P._wat_roof_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tL1RrqCiyqE/TZ7z3QI6kNI/AAAAAAAAASs/WqAO92HcPig/s320/L.P._wat_roof_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I asked our guesthouse woman about them and she said, “They lib in buffalo seet.” Buffalo shit!! And people eat them! She had one of the hard brown balls in one of her plant pots. She was keeping it until it was ‘ready’ to show her four year old. Apparently, the bug makes the hard ball out of sand. She doesn’t eat them but I guess she thinks it’s an important life lesson for a four year old. I didn’t ask about the readiness of the ball. I thought of dung beetles, scarabs. These creatures didn’t look like any scarab amulets I’ve ever seen.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The night market is set up on the main street that runs in front of the national museum. It runs for about three blocks and forms a tunnel of free-standing red awnings that tourists are funneled through. There are hundreds of vendors and from what I saw very few buyers. The vendors set up every day from about 4:30 to 9:30. They take great pains to lay out their wares very precisely and neatly. They sit there patiently, chatting with each other, eating noodles, child-minding, waiting for a sale. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cX-GCHgwg20/TZ7zPh2RvVI/AAAAAAAAASQ/g6z3-GxKvYg/s1600/Dawn_Elephant_Village_Laos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cX-GCHgwg20/TZ7zPh2RvVI/AAAAAAAAASQ/g6z3-GxKvYg/s320/Dawn_Elephant_Village_Laos.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Lao used to be called the land of a million elephants and though there are fewer than a thousand now they are a big tourist draw. Entrepreneurial Ian made a deal with an outfit – a video for 2 days at the Elephant Village. The Elephant Village is a for-profit tourist business but they have a humanitarian role in rescuing elephants from the logging industry where they are worked, often, to death.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BN8uuD0UaCM/TZ7zhJ8ZYrI/AAAAAAAAASY/TpjqEec7fTk/s1600/Ian+dismounting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BN8uuD0UaCM/TZ7zhJ8ZYrI/AAAAAAAAASY/TpjqEec7fTk/s320/Ian+dismounting.jpg" width="320" /></a></span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The ‘girls’ at Elephant Village are living the good life now. They do tourist rides in the morning and then they get walked into the jungle and get tied to trees with very long chains where they are free to eat the 250kg each of veggies they need. Eleven elephants x 250 kg. every day – that’s a lot of salad.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Riding an elephant requires flexible hips and knees so I limited my time atop and admired them from the ground. I was most captivated by the shape of their skulls. I guess too many cartoon elephant images made me think they have a domed, spherical head and a rounded back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Wrong on both counts. The top of an Asian elephants head has two bumps and moving down toward the trunk there are deep depressions where we have temples. There’s a thick hard ridge running along the back. The howdah seat is built so that it doesn’t rest on the centre ridge.</span><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1205984443783788988.post-73575807833729645392011-03-28T01:31:00.000-07:002011-05-04T22:36:19.873-07:00March 23 Hoi An, Hue, Hanoi (3 H club)<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>M</b><b>arch 23, 24 Hoi An</b></span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WWxRvS66Pi4/TZBA_u-fEGI/AAAAAAAAAP8/BV15XisrQ1w/s1600/Dragon_Hoi_An_3144-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WWxRvS66Pi4/TZBA_u-fEGI/AAAAAAAAAP8/BV15XisrQ1w/s320/Dragon_Hoi_An_3144-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p1dEqabGMGk/TZBBY41NCII/AAAAAAAAAQY/xrjqRPhaBps/s1600/Red_Star_caps-Hoi_An_web_3145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Travelling here is smooth as long as you relax and trust people. That's easy if you're not on a tight budget like many of the 'real' backpackers are. (We met a young man from Ontario in MuiNe who told us he had $100 left and he was going to work at a disco to pay his way.)</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The second we walked out of the train station in Danang a man approached us to ask if we wanted a taxi. "Yes, to Hoi An." "Ten dolla in ten minute. sir. You wai hia." We told him we would wait at the coffee joint across the street. "Oh sir, too esspensih coffee. Go otta cona." </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The other corner sidewalk was thronged with young men sitting on low plastic stools drinking tea and smoking cigarettes. VN pop music was blasting from the many speakers. We had ice coffee and in minutes a driver pulled up and whisked us away from the smoke and din.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p1dEqabGMGk/TZBBY41NCII/AAAAAAAAAQY/xrjqRPhaBps/s1600/Red_Star_caps-Hoi_An_web_3145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-p1dEqabGMGk/TZBBY41NCII/AAAAAAAAAQY/xrjqRPhaBps/s320/Red_Star_caps-Hoi_An_web_3145.jpg" width="265" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We went to the An Huy Hotel where we had made a booking. No booking. "Maybe An Hui Hotel, sir?" We went there. No booking but they took us anyway. </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I've made no effort whatsoever to learn Vietnamese, with the exception of 'thank you'. I know it's jingoistic or racist or whatever but it seems to me that there are too few words in the language.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Reading the signs everything looks the same to me! Huy, Hui, Hu, Hi. I guess if every word can have five tones and five meanings it's an economical language.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have a new appreciation of how difficult it must be for VN to learn English with its hard consonants. "Fre mi" (fresh milk); "Co bia" (cold beer); "Toe" (toast); "Massa" (massage).</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Sk_OCSdQafo/TZBBVQBV4fI/AAAAAAAAAQU/xdTPhPtW2II/s1600/Lighting_incense_Hoi_An_3143-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Sk_OCSdQafo/TZBBVQBV4fI/AAAAAAAAAQU/xdTPhPtW2II/s320/Lighting_incense_Hoi_An_3143-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hoi An is charming - lanterns, small shops, ancient temples, old wooden houses and a lovely river. It also has more tailoring shops than Kellogg's has corn flakes! Nancy and I had fun getting stuff made only to be disappointed with the stuff at home. </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9asSZESz9zQ/TZBBNX8qPHI/AAAAAAAAAQM/-LZe9qTv9io/s1600/Incense_coil_Hoi_An_3141-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9asSZESz9zQ/TZBBNX8qPHI/AAAAAAAAAQM/-LZe9qTv9io/s320/Incense_coil_Hoi_An_3141-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I'd been wearing the same wrap-around skirt for weeks so decided to have another made. (The weather was so hot in Cambodia, Saigon, Muine and Nha Trang that I couldn't wear some of the things I have with me.) Ian ordered two shirts. That afternoon the temperature dropped by many degrees and it started to rain. I guess I didn't need the skirt!</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">An ATM kept Ian's card. There were three phone numbers listed to contact. At the first number a man told him to phone another number. At that number Ian got a live person who hung up on him twice. It was Friday about 11:55 a.m. and being the pessimistic alarmists we are we figured we'd have to stay in Hoi An until Monday.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--p5_7uvXW-k/TZCYG8GJTWI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/85DzLoED058/s1600/Tomato_seller_3147-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--p5_7uvXW-k/TZCYG8GJTWI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/85DzLoED058/s320/Tomato_seller_3147-web.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We decided to go to a real bank to talk to someone in person. The bank was about three meters wide (not just the entrance, the whole bank) and had a metal accordion grill across the entrance with a small opening to enter the bank. Inside, the lights were out. Two young men were at a desk near the entrance. One was lying on the desk and the other sat staring at us with a glum face (the phone hanger upper?)</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ian launched into his sad tale with the ATM ID#, the address, the time of the loss etc. The young man continued to stare. Finally, "Luntye. Come ba laita." (In my mind I was thinking, Monday?) He said "One o'clock."</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And sure enough, at one o'clock there he was with Ian's card in his hand smiling, polite, almost chatty!! I guess the customer service mode is reserved for business hours.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>March 25, 26 Hue</b></span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eGpYYbEPIbU/TZBBRPeACCI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/_G7AJ3s9TiY/s1600/Kathy_Hue_palace_3168.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eGpYYbEPIbU/TZBBRPeACCI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/_G7AJ3s9TiY/s320/Kathy_Hue_palace_3168.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Me on the right in my new jacket and plastic poncho... brrrr</span></td></tr>
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</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Be careful what you wish for - you may get it! I have been so hot. I didn't intentionally wish for cooler weather but it must have been in the back of my mind. We took a car to Hue through cold drizzle and fog.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">South to North the towns are: Hoi An, Danang, over the mountain to Hue. In 2008 the strip of beach from Hoi An to Danang (China Beach of Vietnam war and American TV fame) was pretty much undeveloped. Now there are big resorts and casinos and a lot of construction of more. The driver told us that some of the development is Chinese. Meridien, Sheraton and the like.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was Friday afternoon around 2:30 when we drove through Danang. It felt like early Sunday morning. The traffic was almost non-existent and we hardly saw a soul. Eerie.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Internet booking is not all it's cracked up to be in this neck of the world. We got to 'our' hotel and "No booky." It seems that one VN company might have several hotels but use one internet booking service, one address, one phone number. The hotel we booked was actually across the street but the guy said "You tay hea, I gi you sa pry." Why not?</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zGrJt-AGodQ/TZCX-AlXCLI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/1Zc97ddp-qs/s1600/Reflection_Hue_urn_web_3165.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zGrJt-AGodQ/TZCX-AlXCLI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/1Zc97ddp-qs/s320/Reflection_Hue_urn_web_3165.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Hue Palace - looking into an ancient urn</span></td></tr>
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</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Hue was so cold and wet we decided to go to Hanoi the next evening. We had to pay cash for our tix at the travel agent. I said "The ATM will only give us 2,000,000 Dong ($100)." The agent said (more or less) "Do 2,000,000 then 2,000,000 then 2,000,000 etc" Doh! Why didn't we think of that?! The service charges might be big but ya gotta do what ya gotta do.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DxV1pWPmqNI/TZBBI2lQdtI/AAAAAAAAAQI/4uKhHHVv7QU/s1600/Hanoi_cyclo_4366-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DxV1pWPmqNI/TZBBI2lQdtI/AAAAAAAAAQI/4uKhHHVv7QU/s320/Hanoi_cyclo_4366-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We took cyclos over to the market to buy jackets - genuine knock-off The North Face for $25 each - and socks for me. Then we were off to the Imperial Palace of the Nguyen dynasty. It's shabby but dignified. It's been bombed and restored many times.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FW8kApFRc4c/TZCX7WCMC1I/AAAAAAAAAQw/CZ2fEV1C49k/s1600/Kids+at+Hue_web_3170.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FW8kApFRc4c/TZCX7WCMC1I/AAAAAAAAAQw/CZ2fEV1C49k/s1600/Kids+at+Hue_web_3170.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FW8kApFRc4c/TZCX7WCMC1I/AAAAAAAAAQw/CZ2fEV1C49k/s320/Kids+at+Hue_web_3170.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There were many school children on outings. Some children were posing for a group shot for their teacher. I overheard a French tourist who was taking advantage of the pose say to them "Souriez pour la France!" I winced. It was France who bombed the palace in '47.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We went to La Residence Hotel (VN/Swiss) for lunch - sort of a birthday treat. The best part was that the hotel had heat! </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>March 27, 28 Hanoi</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S-hK3Y9UPJ8/TZCZd3sg7JI/AAAAAAAAARA/IgK-ui0bu84/s1600/Gucci_Hanoi_4360-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a></span> </div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S-hK3Y9UPJ8/TZCZd3sg7JI/AAAAAAAAARA/IgK-ui0bu84/s1600/Gucci_Hanoi_4360-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-S-hK3Y9UPJ8/TZCZd3sg7JI/AAAAAAAAARA/IgK-ui0bu84/s320/Gucci_Hanoi_4360-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">'Same Same but Different' is a common saying here. (I think it might refer to all the knock-offs that SE Asia is known for. Rolex anyone?) We had that experience with our hotel booking in Hanoi. The driver who picked us up said he was taking us to Hanoi View Hotel. We said we booked Prince Hanoi Hotel. "Same, same." ???</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-REu44Cn03NE/TZCX4rvPtiI/AAAAAAAAAQs/QGwTNgtIAHs/s1600/Hanoi_traffic-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-REu44Cn03NE/TZCX4rvPtiI/AAAAAAAAAQs/QGwTNgtIAHs/s320/Hanoi_traffic-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A traffic officer - a thankless job</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">The driver did not seem to be drunk (the driver in Hue smelled like Dean Martin on New Year's eve) but he drove on the white line between the lanes. Eventually he chose a lane and then accelerated to 110 kph. That doesn't sound very fast by Cdn standards but here!? I asked him to slow down. Within minutes we passed the first accident we've seen here. A motor scooter was crumpled in the middle of the lane. The driver looked at me like I had ESP!]</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C_bhINWGoKA/TZCXtha9EWI/AAAAAAAAAQg/pqdHxqpDYD8/s1600/Girl_in_traffic-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C_bhINWGoKA/TZCXtha9EWI/AAAAAAAAAQg/pqdHxqpDYD8/s320/Girl_in_traffic-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It turns out Hanoi View and Prince Hanoi are side by side and owned by the same company. They didn't have a room for us at the Prince so put us in the View for the night then moved us in the a.m. Egad!</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lPe3gaHYYRQ/TZBBC8cGIaI/AAAAAAAAAQA/3UJw2KkpW0A/s1600/Gucci_guard_Hanoi_4356-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lPe3gaHYYRQ/TZBBC8cGIaI/AAAAAAAAAQA/3UJw2KkpW0A/s320/Gucci_guard_Hanoi_4356-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We walked around the Old Quarter and went to the fancy-shmancy part of town. I found the IHT at the Metropole (paid for it this time!). Better luck with the puzzle, too. We had coffee and a sweet in a shop that made me think of Sweet Obsession - up-market with lots of women with their children.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RO3VecmCMAU/TZCXxR3G0tI/AAAAAAAAAQk/cWzHoz3R-N8/s1600/Green_shutters_Hanoi-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RO3VecmCMAU/TZCXxR3G0tI/AAAAAAAAAQk/cWzHoz3R-N8/s320/Green_shutters_Hanoi-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">All the old French colonial buildings - elegant, yellow with white trim, tall green shutters - have been taken over by the VN government. They are still yellow and white but now have utilitarian red signage with yellow writing and huge VN flags - red with a yellow star.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMpkcXoC1TQ/TZCjb_1mAfI/AAAAAAAAARM/0VMLhat0xco/s1600/Sidewalk-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMpkcXoC1TQ/TZCjb_1mAfI/AAAAAAAAARM/0VMLhat0xco/s320/Sidewalk-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Ian negotiating a crowded sidewalk</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d_FiYUX9HHI/TZCXfmjVTpI/AAAAAAAAAQc/w4-bwDN8dd4/s1600/Art_deco_front-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d_FiYUX9HHI/TZCXfmjVTpI/AAAAAAAAAQc/w4-bwDN8dd4/s320/Art_deco_front-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The French Quarter is only a small enclave serviced by wide boulevards. The rest of downtown is a maze of narrow streets with motorbikes crowding both the road and sidewalks.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AhvcJcQPits/TZCihokYXuI/AAAAAAAAARI/x6WPeA4Te3Y/s1600/Hanoi_phonelines-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AhvcJcQPits/TZCihokYXuI/AAAAAAAAARI/x6WPeA4Te3Y/s200/Hanoi_phonelines-web.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Look up and signs of an elegant past peek through the shabby storefronts and snake-pits of electrical wiring. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P8sukYz1fIw/TZCX2KPCLJI/AAAAAAAAAQo/uZEj5JnlGgU/s1600/Hanoi_phonelines-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
</a></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1205984443783788988.post-8063005979145772592011-03-23T02:41:00.000-07:002011-05-04T21:46:54.852-07:00March 15 Saigon<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">The only interesting thing about the bus ride to Saigon was the border crossing and even that was pretty smooth. The bus concierge or conductor or whatever the title handled everything. He collected everyone's passport. That was difficult for some farangs who've probably been told never to let their passport out of their sight. I could hear him patiently (with a minor bit of exasperation) explaining that it would be a lot easier for them if they let him handle things.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">We were sitting beside a 60-65 ish American with motorcycle boots and a thin grey ponytail. At the border crossing he was pulled aside and held us up for about 15 minutes. When he finally got back on he seemed peevish and said "They know me here." Now what could that mean? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/--IZCHQOsPto/TYm7GIHLKfI/AAAAAAAAAPU/rUrSvdYD2g4/s1600/IMG_4216web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" r6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/--IZCHQOsPto/TYm7GIHLKfI/AAAAAAAAAPU/rUrSvdYD2g4/s320/IMG_4216web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We arrived in Saigon on exactly the same street that Nancy and I stayed on in 2008 - Pham Ngu Lau. It's the 'backpacker area'. That means taxis, rickshaw's, travel agents, tour companies, cheap restaurants, bars, sidewalk vendors, massage joints/spas chock-a-block. Every bar and restaurant has one or more touts standing outside luring you into their place. Tense.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">We are travel weary because neither of us really wanted to see a thing in Saigon! I told Ian about the War Remnants Museum but we both thought it was too grim. We walked to the old post office which I think is a very beautiful building - French Colonial. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">We strolled around a nice park, had coffee and a crepe, watched the brides having their wedding photos taken. I couldn't bear the idea of going back to PNL street again. I saw a beauty salon and decided to get my hair cut. Ian left.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-1S3t53aRMAM/TYm7aXghLhI/AAAAAAAAAPY/m3YaaVA6xeY/s1600/IMG_4219web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" r6="true" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-1S3t53aRMAM/TYm7aXghLhI/AAAAAAAAAPY/m3YaaVA6xeY/s320/IMG_4219web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">Befo</span><span style="font-size: large;">re I could even sit down he was back and we each had shampoo, massage and hair cut. It certainly improved our collective mood. We actually hadn't realized we'd asked for the massage bit - in fact, I'm pretty sure we hadn't! But, oh what a treat. Shampoo, facial scrub, facial massage, head massage. Move to the vibrating tables and more massage. About an hour in all.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-9kOtGhHuBeA/TYm7tsrVFYI/AAAAAAAAAPc/BpYpaAftLtw/s1600/IMG_4222web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-9kOtGhHuBeA/TYm7tsrVFYI/AAAAAAAAAPc/BpYpaAftLtw/s320/IMG_4222web.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">Then the hair cuts. The man who cut our hair, Mr. Vinh, is immigrating to Fredericton NB!! He loves Canada - "clean, green, quiet". I almost wept. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mr. Vinh told us he has to have $300,000 to buy a business in NB whereas a business in BC would be $800,000. We talked about Cdn immigration. He was well-informed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">We ate at a Pakistani place that night. My few words of Urdu came in handy not for any practical reason but for diplomacy. The owner is from Pakistan as were a few other diners. He was thrilled we'd been there and could chat about this and that. He is actually from Kashmir ... "the Pakistani part." I realized that I feel more affection for South Asian culture that I do for SE Asian. I'll have to ponder that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">We left Saigon early in the morning. Well, not so early - 7:30 bus that left at 8:45!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>March 17 - St Patrick’s day To Mui Ne</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It must have been the luck of the Irish that kept us alive! I tried to keep my head down and focus on knitting (I’m on my second sock – not a match for the first sock). Every now and then Ian would look at the road and I usually heard a deep intake of breath and then “Oh fuck! That was too close.” It seems that passing another big bus and forcing oncoming cars onto the shoulder is SOP. Or, the other manouevre I marveled at was the car passing us on the right just as our bus driver pulled out to pass the big vehicle in front of us. I wondered how we’d merge in front.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">We got off in a small beach town called Mui Ne. It’s very close to Phan Thiet where Reece went with his father. It’s a very long arcing strip of pale sand with lots of high end and low end ‘resorts’ along the shore and working class Vietnamese trying to make a living off of fishing and tourism.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">The music in the open air restaurants was very annoying – but it seemed only to us! I can just see Frank rolling his eyes! Sometimes it was trance music and other times high-pitched Asian bubblegum pop.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">We went to a little bar run by a French couple. They favored the trance music or improv jazz. But they were sweet and trying hard to make a go of it. Ian had some red wine which as usual came ice cold. He thought French people would be more ‘in the know’ about wine but when he asked she shrugged and said “I know, I know but ...?” I guess it has to be either too warm or too cold.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>March 19, 20, 21 <b>Nha Trang </b></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ian described Nha Trang as the Acapulco of Vietnam. Well it is a city on a beautiful beach and it is a holiday destination for Vietnamese as well as foreigners. I’ve never been to Acapulco but from photos of it I’d say Nha Trang is way better. Maybe not for much longer as there is a fair bit of BIG hotel construction going on along the road in front of the beach. Thankfully the beach side of the road is being spared any construction.</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-SExSyTbRsqc/TYnxrAbuFPI/AAAAAAAAAPs/x1d5T9h2eR8/s1600/Fisher.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-SExSyTbRsqc/TYnxrAbuFPI/AAAAAAAAAPs/x1d5T9h2eR8/s320/Fisher.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It’s a beautiful city oceanside. There are frangipani trees, poinsettias, trees clipped into pyramid and cube shapes, coloured paving stones, sculptures and lots of happy people. There are a few café/bar places along the beach – but low key places. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the evenings around five o’clock the air cools considerably and people come out to stroll along the front. We saw people, mostly in their 50’s and 60’s doing exercise – qigong, calesthenics and jogging.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Cruciverbalist Caper: On our first day in Nha Trang Ian went skin diving. Since it was Sunday I thought I’d try to find an International Herald Tribune Sat-Sun edition (for the NYT crossword). I knew from past experience that it can usually be found at hotels like the Crowne Plaza, Marriott etc. I walked all over town for the right kind of hotel with no joy. By 11:30 a.m. I was overheated and worn out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">Later I was telling Ian about my efforts and the lack of the right kind of hotel. He pointed and said “What about the Sheraton?” Gobsmacked I was! I didn’t feel optimistc but I could leave no stone unturned. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Sheraton is on a corner with the main door on a side street and another on the beach road. We went in the main door. What austere, elegant emptiness. The lobby was enormous soaring three stories above us and with a tiny reception counter and an even tinier concierge counter. Both counters seemed to be suspended cream-coloured stone slabs. Behind the concierge desk was a beautiful smiling female VN automaton. A woman actually but rigid. I askd if there were any newspapers available. I tried French too (remember the good ol’ colonial days?). Her eyes darted back and forth – English, Vietmanese, French, Vietnamese. Finally, smile intact, she pointed far across the lobby to a woman in a black suit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">As we made the long journey across the lobby the black-suited woman walked out of sight. As we neared the spot where she had been we saw that it was the entrance to an austere, elegant bar. I thought the stuff on the counter was menus. No! Be still my beating heart – the IHT!!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">I picked it up thinking I’d ask to buy it or tear out the xword. Ian, in a complete departure from his usual ‘do the right thing’ stance said “Put it in your purse!” We snuck into a little alcove, I stuffed it in my purse and we scampered out the second door without seeing another soul! It’s true – addiction leads to property crime!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">The puzzle was a difficult one (or I’m out of practice) and after three days I threw it out.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-TL6HjWmitwI/TYnzMZxK_fI/AAAAAAAAAP4/loH5NPO-Djs/s1600/Kid_riders3-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-TL6HjWmitwI/TYnzMZxK_fI/AAAAAAAAAP4/loH5NPO-Djs/s320/Kid_riders3-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’d made up my mind that I wasn’t taking anymore buses. The night train to Danang was full on Monday night so we had more time in Nha Trang. We went to the hotsprings for a mudbath a mineral soak and a foot massage. They tried to sell us a VIP private room with full body massage etc for $155. I can only imagine what hanky panky goes on in the VIP rooms.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">We opted for a non-private deal. I wasn’t crazy about the mud part. They ran a tub for two with muddy water (or very watery mud) and we were supposed to sit in it for 30 minutes and then sit in the sun and dry out. I lasted about 20 minutes mudding and drying.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">The we went to a mineral tub for two. The woman had a gallon thermos jug with her and when our tub was full she emptied the thermos which had boiled water and two softball sized herbal pouches. I sniffed and sniffed but I couldn’t tell what the herbs were.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">She left us with instructions to sty there 45 minutes and then get up and put on the flimsy shorts and tank tops she left behind. She also left us some tangerines and water.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">The tub was in a jungle environment, ficus, ferns eucalyptus, hibiscus. There was a bird or lizard that started out with a chirpy kind of sound that then turned into a creaking door sound. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">The two women who showed up to do our feet were great fun. As Ian’s ‘therapist’ moved her hand up his thigh he gave me a furtive glance. The women didn’t miss a beat and in sign language with lots of hoots they made jokes about the male anatomy! Ian was very calm and cool about it. Then it was my turn. My gal reached over and rubbed my nipples. If I’m not mistaken she called them mosquito bites!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">They asked if we wanted a full massage, not just feet. We hadn’t paid for that. “No worry madame. You pay us. But ssshhhh, no tell.” Then she dragged her finger across her throat like she’d get axed for taking our money.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">This was the deal. The spa charges $6 for a full massage of which the masseur gets less than $1. Being one with the people we snuck the bills to them directly for a clandestine massage. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"> * * *</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">An Asian pleasure I’ve always enjoyed is toothpicks. They’re on every table. Yesterday I noticed I was picking my teeth to the trance music! I have no idea how long I’d been at it when I ‘came to’.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-pTxIQi284N8/TYnylEmzRrI/AAAAAAAAAP0/BdXXGt4bI2c/s1600/Kid_Riders-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-pTxIQi284N8/TYnylEmzRrI/AAAAAAAAAP0/BdXXGt4bI2c/s320/Kid_Riders-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Motorcycles and scooters are the primary means of transport. We stood on a corner looking at all the scooters going by with little children on them. I once saw a woman driving with one hand and holding an infant close to her chest. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;">Some people use a seat like a baby bar stool. The legs fit on the ‘floor’ of the scooter and the seat of the stool is about even with the seat of the scooter. The babies seem to have great balance and they know intuitively? not to move around. I guess they get nine months in utero training.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> * * *</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Night train to Hoi An. A much better way to go especially with a little blue pill. We bedded down about 11:00 in a compartment with four berths – two up, two down. Our compartment mates were a VN woman going to a gender issues workshop and an older man.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1205984443783788988.post-35000849654051316442011-03-17T03:20:00.000-07:002011-05-04T21:47:16.460-07:00March 7 Phenom Penh & Volunteer Work<div style="font: 12px Times New Roman; margin: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-oOJM06EpZ1U/TYHAVJRQAHI/AAAAAAAAAM4/GLWFrzpay6A/s1600/Dog_at_work_CU*web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-oOJM06EpZ1U/TYHAVJRQAHI/AAAAAAAAAM4/GLWFrzpay6A/s320/Dog_at_work_CU*web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div></div><div style="-moz-font-feature-settings: normal; -moz-font-language-override: normal; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Bus to PP. These places are set up for lazy tourists like us. We asked the guesthouse in Siem Reap to get us tix to PP. They did, the bus came and picked us up and off we went. Easy Peasy. Another unremarkable bus trip. Ear plugs of course to take the edge off the ‘entertainment’. Flat, dry, brown fields with the occasional small lake and rice paddies.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-E5NhdOhf3_U/TYHBX32--MI/AAAAAAAAANc/K30rB49YbiQ/s1600/Lake_at_sunset4_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-E5NhdOhf3_U/TYHBX32--MI/AAAAAAAAANc/K30rB49YbiQ/s400/Lake_at_sunset4_web.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We arrived at a depot – another tourist convenience right on the quay near all the tourist hotels, restaurants and pastry shops! Immediately upon debarking we were approached by a tuk-tuk driver saying “Killing fields. Killing fields?” We put that particular site on hold and asked him to take us to the Silver River Hotel.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The SH had been recommended by some Canadians we met in Siem Reap. It has the most comfortable bed we’ve slept in since we left Kamloops St. About 10:00 on our first night there our room started vibrating to the beat from a disco two blocks away! We called the front desk and moved to the other side of the hall toward the front of the hotel.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mOd7YNyoDlw/TYHA1PKf8EI/AAAAAAAAANI/LSx8-bL6pPw/s1600/Field_briefing_holding_mine_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-mOd7YNyoDlw/TYHA1PKf8EI/AAAAAAAAANI/LSx8-bL6pPw/s320/Field_briefing_holding_mine_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The next day we met Sowathey (so-wa-TAY). She’s the marketing person from CMAC, the Cambodian Mine Action Centre. Ian contacted them to do some volunteer photography. He thought it was an NGO. It turns out that it is a national, public institution that employs 2000+ people to do landmine clearance and humanitarian development.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sowathey picked us up in her Lexus SUV and took us to a riverside place for coffee. She had set up a three-day junket that entailed a five-hour trip back to Battambang! Battambang is the province close to the Thai border and is the most landmine-contaminated area of Cambodia. The plan was to set off at 7:00a.m. the next day.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><span style="font-size: large;">Ten o’clock the next morning we were still waiting in the lobby! The driver had to get petrol authorization etc etc.. Finally we were off on a very hair-raising drive. A two lane road, no central markings, no shoulder markings, sometimes no shoulders, bicycles, motorcycles, tractors, bullock carts, tuk-tuks, motorcycles hauling all manner of wheeled thing, cattle on the loose, dogs, huge trucks, chickens, some cars and lots of suv’s. There are no traffic rules as we know them so people drive either way on both sides of the road, enter traffic whenever the spirit moves them, stop on the road to chat to another driver.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-q2f-MfrmrMI/TYHBTcKGRqI/AAAAAAAAANY/iqrBg-fuhHg/s1600/Lake2_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-q2f-MfrmrMI/TYHBTcKGRqI/AAAAAAAAANY/iqrBg-fuhHg/s400/Lake2_web.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">At one point Ian asked the driver to stop so he could take a picture. He stepped about 3 metres off the road and then someone said “Don't go any further. We don't know if it's safe.” </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">When we got to B’bang we went immediately to the mechanical maintenance and repair place. CMAC has some big equipment – de-miners, brush cutters, diggers, trucks etc – that need to be maintained. Ian clicked away and I tried to look useful. </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">We were put up at the swankiest hotel in B’bang, owned by the governor. We had a bed big enough to sleep a small village.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-u1R4sj6U4KM/TYHCUBIm6yI/AAAAAAAAAN4/etGVSvwKWtg/s1600/Rural_Road_3web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-u1R4sj6U4KM/TYHCUBIm6yI/AAAAAAAAAN4/etGVSvwKWtg/s320/Rural_Road_3web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">Seven o’clock the next day we set off for the field. After about an hour of hell on wheels we pulled onto a quiet dirt road and I gave a sigh of relief. Too soon.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The dirt road skirted the top of a lake. It had rained recently and the huge potholes were filled with water. Other parts of the road were washboard-like. It was a very slow, rough ride. I was sitting in the middle of the back seat and I hit the roof a few times.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WY4uvE0CikM/TYHAEZXMyPI/AAAAAAAAAMw/Myy_EK6r_hk/s1600/DFP_CU4_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-WY4uvE0CikM/TYHAEZXMyPI/AAAAAAAAAMw/Myy_EK6r_hk/s1600/DFP_CU4_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">First stop – mine risk education session with some villagers, all in Khmer, of course. I thought the teacher was very good. He engaged the people, had them participating and laughing. He was holding a poster showing several types of landmines and UXO’s (that’s unexploded ordnance). “Some of them are long, some short, some small, some big but they’ll all hurt you.” The older women called out and there was a lot of tittering from the young women. </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Then interviews with landmine victims, Mr. Chann and Mr. Chor. They spoke about being unable to use the land. I thought of that line ‘Water, water everywhere but not a drop to drink.’ The land is unsafe to cultivate.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">It took Ian awhile to set up for Mr. Chann – in the shade, good background etc. Finally he started the interview. After he started I noticed that he'd set up right beside a small mesh enclosure that was cheep-cheep-cheeping away. There were about 30 tiny chicks or ducklings penned up. I groaned to myself thinking we'd have to start all over. (Doing everything in 2 or 3 languages with many opinions and suggestions is tiring.)The cheeps didn't register on the recording at all.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ian took a lot of pix after the video shoot. At one point he said “I'll just shoot Mr. Chann's mother.” I thought “I hope she's not his wife!” A good thing about a language barrier.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-YGn6zKB5hqw/TYG_dvBMI5I/AAAAAAAAAMg/tp-cUnecvPA/s1600/Chung_Chor_WS_tilted2*web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Next up was Mr. Chor a farmer who lost his lower leg to a landmine when he was in his twenties, gathering wood in the forest. He has the most peaceful, happy face. </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">It took awhile to get the right shirt for him to wear. Ian was shooting against a weathered wooden barn and Mr. Chor was wearing a weathered grey shirt. Finally his son donated his shirt to the production.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-oNP9h005Hhk/TYHAwhBc5CI/AAAAAAAAANE/HJp1uaLR45Q/s1600/Dog_handler_woman_portrait%252Cweb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-oNP9h005Hhk/TYHAwhBc5CI/AAAAAAAAANE/HJp1uaLR45Q/s320/Dog_handler_woman_portrait%252Cweb.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The afternoon was spent at a minefield. Actually it was a cleared minefield that the de-mining platoon set up as a demo for Ian to shoot. The best part for me was seeing Casey and Jenny, MDD's. That's Mine Detection Dog. They are Alsatians that have been bred for mine detection.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Actually, the dogs were the second best part. The best part was that I got to blow up an anti-tank mine! Grrrr!!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-VldJCuwtuP8/TYHGg34tqdI/AAAAAAAAAOw/MDmKPFKQFqE/s1600/mine+explosion+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-VldJCuwtuP8/TYHGg34tqdI/AAAAAAAAAOw/MDmKPFKQFqE/s400/mine+explosion+.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The platoon had found and excavated the mine the week before. They 'planted' it 300 metres from the platoon station and fed a wire from the mine to the detonator at the station. The platoon leader made a fuss about honoring me and asking me to blow it up. Very weird. I didn't know what to expect despite many Hollywood movies. Even at 300 metres it was very loud and reverberated in my belly. Huge plumes of black smoke shot about 20 metres into the air.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">The de-miners cheered and the platoon leader thanked me. He said “You did a very good thing today. You saved many people's lives.” I thought that was gracious because they did all the work, that day and everyday.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I forgot to mention lunch that day. The inevitable sour fish soup and rice and then an added treat – chicken innards, gag. We both passed on the innards.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-VXwt8T9CpJE/TYHVHDAACaI/AAAAAAAAAO4/KLeSi6BvrN0/s1600/Woman_amputee_examined2web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-VXwt8T9CpJE/TYHVHDAACaI/AAAAAAAAAO4/KLeSi6BvrN0/s320/Woman_amputee_examined2web.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></div></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On the life-and-death car ride back to Phnom Penh Ian said in passing that it would be good to get more shots of landmine victims – people with <i>visible</i> disabilities. (It seems almost everyone in the landmine affected areas is a victim in one way or another.) In a flash, Sowathey made a few phone calls and we were off to a rehabilitation centre. We had about 30 minutes to spare before we had to go interview Sowathey's boss!</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">A lot of the people who work at the centre are amputees. They make prostheses and wheelchairs.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We saw one young woman who was having a special leg prosthesis made so she could wear high heels at her wedding next year! That was an eye opener for Sowathey who is also getting married soon. She said “I never thought about disability and fashion before.” That lead to some discussion about the psychology of disability, blah, blah, blah.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We were 'fractured' when we got back to the Silver River that night. I was so fractured I needed a 3 hour massage the next day!! It was actually a body scrub (black sesame seed and orange), an oil massage and a facial. I also felt a strong retail urge and bought a beautiful silk blouse for home. It's too beautiful for the hot, steamy tropics.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-T-NCWEKrvhI/TYHmIj-X88I/AAAAAAAAAPI/bdPHWdLSqd8/s1600/K_buying_silk_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-T-NCWEKrvhI/TYHmIj-X88I/AAAAAAAAAPI/bdPHWdLSqd8/s320/K_buying_silk_web.jpg" width="320" /></a>The next day, Sunday, we were off on another volunteer job. Ian was shooting stills for the Cambodia Save the Children. This time we really did leave at 7a.m. </span></div></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ian shot a meeting of the women's collective, the children's club and then some income-generating projects. We were in Takeo province, 2 hours south of PP. There are no landmines in Takeo, or so they say. It seems more prosperous,</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are huge cultivated rice fields and lots of livestock. (I thought of a line Pat's songwriter friend Kate could probably use '...the dykes between the paddies').</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-94E_FWopNu4/TYHowql373I/AAAAAAAAAPM/dl3KYo5mJiA/s1600/Monk-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-94E_FWopNu4/TYHowql373I/AAAAAAAAAPM/dl3KYo5mJiA/s320/Monk-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">The StC projects are coordinated by committees located in the local pagodas. Of course there is a monk or two on each committee. We stopped to pick up a couple of monks to ease our way into the people's homes. (We had a StC person with us, of course, but she isn't 'local' enough.)</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;">Both monks had long, delicate fingernails – Diana-Ross-long (now that dates me!!). I couldn't stop looking at them! I asked one of the monks “You study the dhamma?' He said “Everyday.” Then he added with a tired sigh and a sweet laugh “Every night.” Maybe he's not long for the sangha!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-8FRKRAdtWyY/TYHC2ABvWJI/AAAAAAAAAOM/2G2K0i-KLMM/s1600/Kathy_in_Metro2_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-8FRKRAdtWyY/TYHC2ABvWJI/AAAAAAAAAOM/2G2K0i-KLMM/s320/Kathy_in_Metro2_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Our last day in PP was spent having lunch with Sowathey at the Metro. Our dishes – Peking duck pancakes, seafood fettucine and salade Nicoise. With Australian wine of course. There are a lot of upscale places in PP. </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-EzZmsJpt0FU/TYHeRWIxqPI/AAAAAAAAAO8/nkttpHi-TV8/s1600/Killing+fiels%252Cweb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-EzZmsJpt0FU/TYHeRWIxqPI/AAAAAAAAAO8/nkttpHi-TV8/s320/Killing+fiels%252Cweb.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">The saddest for last – the killing fields. A quiet park-like memorial to the many people who were tortured and executed by the Khmer Rouge. Cheong Ek is the name of the place and the memorial.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The rags of the victims still litter the grave sites. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It is a focal point for the ghosts of Cambodia but I felt their presence everywhere we went. I thought about them every time I saw a Khmer over the age of 50.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 15px;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1205984443783788988.post-33296336072958036372011-03-07T19:15:00.000-08:002011-05-04T21:48:12.065-07:00February 26: Bangkok to Cambodia<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Bangkok again</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The rigamarole with MAI caused us to forget to book a room in BKK. We called the place where our excess baggage was stored (yes, we brought too much stuff with us – no surprise!) was full. I said to Ian, “Let’s just go to the old TT Guest House.” I stayed there in 1989. A step down is an understatement! For $8 you get a clean room, freshly painted, a fluorescent ceiling light, a fan, two beds with one clean sheet each, shared bathroom with squatters. A budget traveler’s delight.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We met an Australian woman on the bus into the city from the airport. She told us she was staying at the Check Inn in Chinatown. One night in TT was enough so we headed over here. It’s a great improvement and considering that I have another intestinal upset it’s good that the toilet is only 15 feet from the bed! A Lomotil day!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The woman on the bus – Mardi – is a force to be reckoned with. Intense, expansive, voluble, effusive, an eternal traveler. Her husband works in Kathmandu where she spent the winter with him. She’s just taking a time-out to get warm on a beach somewhere.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We spent a bit of time walking around Chinatown - a completely different experience of Bangkok from our previous stop there.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Beauty treatment on the street</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Chicken strips?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jewelry seller</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-g4y6R0CRxCM/TXWM4lZ7tDI/AAAAAAAAAJw/Jj7q0wxXDQw/s1600/Lottery_man_Chinatown2640_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-g4y6R0CRxCM/TXWM4lZ7tDI/AAAAAAAAAJw/Jj7q0wxXDQw/s320/Lottery_man_Chinatown2640_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Keeping in touch with customers?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-HImZmtEtKXc/TXWM1aP4bQI/AAAAAAAAAJo/6i0xVbEID2c/s1600/Gem_seller_2646_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-HImZmtEtKXc/TXWM1aP4bQI/AAAAAAAAAJo/6i0xVbEID2c/s320/Gem_seller_2646_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Real Gems anyone?</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">What am I reading?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Thanks to Robert and Cari who recommended some geographically correct novels. We’ve read <i><b>Bangkok 8 and Bangkok Tattoo </b></i>– contemporary Bangkok detective stories. Humour, mystery, social and political commentary. A nice antidote to all the temples and chanting etc.</span></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Two novels set in Vientiane by Colin Cotterill – <b><i>Thirty-three Teeth and Anarchy and Old Dogs</i></b>. Again detective stories with a comic spiritual twist.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Burmese Days</i></b> by George Orwell – the good ol’ British colonial days in the country formerly known as Burma.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>The Heir to the Glimmering World</b></i> by Cynthia Ozick. I didn’t finish it – it’s a ‘book of ideas’ whatever that means. It required more attention than I was able to give it. But I’m curious about the author – a Jewish scholar. I don’t know if she would call herself that. She’s written tons, lots of nominations and awards. Someone to keep in mind.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>The Other Side of You</i></b> by Sally Vickers of Miss Garnet’s Angel fame. Love, death, suicide, psychotherapy, art history, Caravaggio, Rome. Fabulous!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>Side-Tracked</b></i> by Henning Mankell – a grisly murder mystery.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Bangkok to Siem Reap by train and boat</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The train left BKK at 5:55 a.m.! It was a pretty unmemorable train ride. Flat, dry, rural landscape. I think after the rainy season it would be green and lush.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The border crossing was interesting! The train arrived in Aranyaprathat at 11:30 a.m. and was met by a bevy of tuk-tuk drivers eager to take foreigners to the border. We got a woman driver – the first I’ve seen here. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We’d read a bit in the guidebooks about Thais trying to make a little profit from the border. In its usual alarmist way, Lonely Planet sets up paranoia in the minds of travelers. “Beware, beware, they’re after your money!” It worked! When our tuk-tuk driver stopped at a shabby, little roadside stand to buy our visas we were on guard! No way! Take us to a ‘real’ visa office. So we drove 50 metres down the road to a big, white, building with a gold sign saying ‘Cambodian blah, blah, blah” and we were happy. I think we still paid $10 extra for our visas but we liked the shiny building!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Visas in hand, we approached the border. We disembarked from the tuk-tuk and started walking in the direction she pointed. It seemed a long way. There were lots of people going in both directions – Thais, Cambodians and all manner of white folk. Eventually we got to a relatively ‘official’-looking building. It was the Thai exit point. Line up, passports stamped, and on we went. Then it was the health ‘inspection’ which consisted of us completing a smaller-than-postcard-size pink questionnaire. No, no, no, tick, tick, tick. (I know, I lied about the Lomotil day). In exchange for the pink slip a man gave us a yellow slip telling us we might encounter unfamiliar infectious agents in Cambodia. Doh!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another longish walk and finally we reached a place where we were shunted through a narrow corridor arriving in front of a wicket with four very serious, uniformed men armed with rubber stamps! At last, the Immigration, Border Services, whatever they’re called. We’re in!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A Cambodian ‘welcomer’ befriended us and helped us with the next step – finding transport to our first Cambodian destination – Battambang. We thought he was just another driver or hotel tout but in fact he was legit. I guess so many tourists enter Cambodia there on the way to Angkor that Cambodia has created this job. He got us onto a free shuttle bus (along with a group of six or seven Americans with surf boards!) to the bus station where we got a bus to Battambang.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Battambang</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We followed up on Juanita and Ron’s tip about cooking lessons at the Smokin’ Pot, a restaurant /cooking school operation. There were 2 Australians, 2 Czechs, 2 Icelanders, 1 Spaniard and us. Vannak is the owner/cook/teacher. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-GKUZE0kbrb4/TXWNFpngYwI/AAAAAAAAAKM/22qv9ehNbSo/s1600/Battambang_Pig_Head_2755_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-GKUZE0kbrb4/TXWNFpngYwI/AAAAAAAAAKM/22qv9ehNbSo/s320/Battambang_Pig_Head_2755_web.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The lesson started at 8:30 a.m. with a trip to the market. I was still feeling queasy so I averted my eyes a lot.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We made three dishes – chicken Amok, a coconut-based dry dish; beef Lok Lak, a peppery stir-fry; and hot and sour soup.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-IUKzXVrtIdE/TXWNEL8guVI/AAAAAAAAAKI/tRWvUsw_2Bo/s1600/Battambang_K_cooking_2785_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-IUKzXVrtIdE/TXWNEL8guVI/AAAAAAAAAKI/tRWvUsw_2Bo/s320/Battambang_K_cooking_2785_web.jpg" width="263" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Chop! Chop! Chop!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ian worked away at making a video for Vannak...</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The boat to Siem Reap</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There were about thirty of us aboard, mostly foreigners but a few Cambodians. There were two Cambodian women with very young children. I was amazed at how happy and well-behaved the babies were – no crying or fussing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-RDNpH3DU6ns/TXWNVqbBfYI/AAAAAAAAAKo/R6LNgmdzLLw/s1600/Man_Tonle_Sap_web_2877.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-RDNpH3DU6ns/TXWNVqbBfYI/AAAAAAAAAKo/R6LNgmdzLLw/s320/Man_Tonle_Sap_web_2877.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The river is very shallow this time of year and we were pushing through the mud often. Ian checked out the back end of the boat and said there is some kind of ‘plough’ in front of the propeller. I’m not sure I have that quite right. There are a lot of water hyacinths growing in the water and they clog up the waterway as well.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">As we chugged along the man and woman in front of us suddenly started yelling. The man was jumping out of his seat like his ass was on fire. A catfish, caught up in the waves the boat was making, leaped out of the river right into the French man's lap! The seats were small and he had very long legs so he was having a time getting onto his feet and getting the catfish out of his lap. Once it was on the floor one of the Cambodian women calmly and skillfully picked it up and tossed it overboard.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">During the voyage we passed many floating villages. Some were just a small number of shacky dwellings but others were more substantial with shops, schools and even Cambodian People’s Party ‘offices’. At times the skipper would slow down and one of the Cambodians would disembark onto a tiny, narrow, flat boat being paddled by someone squatting on the stern. Usually the disembarkee also took two or three large, heavy, plastic mesh bags. I was holding my breath waiting for one of the little boats to capsize! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The last leg of the trip was going upstream against a fast current. The skipper had to gun the engine to keep control of the boat. I was looking toward the side of the boat when I saw this tiny plank-like boat with a woman and child aiming straight for the side of our boat. The child was standing up! Just as they were about to collide the girl leaped onto our boat with a basket over her arm and her mother veered off!! “Col bia, two dolla!” We bought a couple as did the big guy from Boulder and then she was off again as fast as she came. Her Mom sped toward our boat and the beer seller leaped back onto the plank as it veered away!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">At the boat dock, before we could get off the boat, we were accosted by a motor-mouth tuk-tuk driver with a high-pitched Cambodian-Australian accent. But, Buddha knows how, he won us over and he’s our-man-in-Siem-Reap. He drove us to our guesthouse and we made a deal for him to drive us around the sites while we’re here.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>The ancient Kingdom of Angkor</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/DUY89KyAXOE?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We spent three days visiting the ancient sites of Angkor. We were least impressed with Angkor Wat, surprisingly. More on that later.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ta Prohm stands out. It is an old monastery that has been left in the ruined, jungle-ravaged state in which the French ‘discovered’ it in the 19<sup>th</sup> century. Ravaged is not entirely true because there is a lot of conservation work being done in coop ventures - currently with India and Cambodia. So I guess the jungle-ravaged state is being conserved!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-OU6BUfGf7_Q/TXWNYF6ExoI/AAAAAAAAAKw/al3vzI7sRXE/s1600/Ta+Prohn_tree_2831_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-OU6BUfGf7_Q/TXWNYF6ExoI/AAAAAAAAAKw/al3vzI7sRXE/s320/Ta+Prohn_tree_2831_web.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We went early in the morning when the light is soft and enhances the colours in the old stone. We met an American man who was setting himself up on a piece of rubble to do a drawing. We talked about the light and the jungle growth mingling with the old stone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fairly soon, by 8:30, the place was crawling with people. It is a joy to see such a sacred site but I think within a few years Cambodia will need to impose some limits to the amount of tourism. Ian was shooting with a tripod and he said he could feel considerable vibration as people walked by on the raised wooden walkways.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I tried to keep all the facts clear in my mind – what century, which king, which religion, what style. After a while I gave up and simply gazed and admired.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Bayon was another big hit with us. The various kings just built monument after monument cheek-by-jowl. It was easier than demolishing the previous ones. The books refer to ‘temple mountains’ – simply tall narrow religious monuments that represent Mount Meru (centre of the universe, home of the gods in Hindu mythology). </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The cardinal directions and the natural elements play a big role. All the temple mountains have faces carved in them looking in all four directions. All the faces look the same and were modeled on the king of the time. We saw many Cambodians who looked just like the carvings.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-dCu69hIbB5Y/TXWNXGYfXcI/AAAAAAAAAKs/uzjSz777gek/s1600/Ta+Prohn_cleaner_2853_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-dCu69hIbB5Y/TXWNXGYfXcI/AAAAAAAAAKs/uzjSz777gek/s320/Ta+Prohn_cleaner_2853_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-IPwgbVco4jg/TXWNGpZ6imI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/1BnxPw3Ckrg/s1600/Bayon_Ian%2526faces_B%2526W_2865_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-IPwgbVco4jg/TXWNGpZ6imI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/1BnxPw3Ckrg/s320/Bayon_Ian%2526faces_B%2526W_2865_web.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7Qd0XYHgAkE/TXWNJN05tMI/AAAAAAAAAKY/4PZpG-yR5E4/s1600/Beautiful%252Csmart_laughing_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7Qd0XYHgAkE/TXWNJN05tMI/AAAAAAAAAKY/4PZpG-yR5E4/s320/Beautiful%252Csmart_laughing_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This young woman was working at a food stall near one of the ruins. She says she wears long sleeve tops so her skin won't get more brown. "When I am a rich woman I will make my skin white."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I told her she was beautiful and smart. (She has learned to speak English simply by listening to tourists.) She had a hard time believing it. She said she'd never heard anyone say anything like that to her before.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Modern living in ancient Angkor</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">On our first day we went to a landmine museum. It was very sobering and profoundly sad. I had been feeling glum since the day before after witnessing the squalor and extreme poverty along the river. I could hardly speak without getting a hard lump in my throat and welling up with tears.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The man who started the museum was a child soldier from the time he was about ten (he doesn’t know his age, birth date, parents). He laid countless mines and killed many people in his struggle to survive. He is in his forties now and is working hard to ‘rebalance his karma’. That’s my take on it. He doesn’t use those words. He has become an expert in defusing mines, He and his wife have an orphanage for landmine victims. The museum has a Canadian connection – Paul Martin, Donica Pottie, Cdn Ambassador to Cambodia and a Cdn photojournalist whose name I’ve forgotten (Richard Fotussi?) were listed as supporters and champions for the anti-landmine cause. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Something we saw each of the three days we visited ruins were bands of musicians playing traditional Khmer music. The musicians were all landmine victims – some amputees, some blind, some burned. They had CD’s for sale. We bought one on Day 1, one on Day 2 and on Day 3 we said “Enough is enough!” Because of Ian’s ‘job’ with the Cambodian Mine Action Centre he did a lot of videoing of the bands.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Our tuk-tuk driver turned out to be a blessing. He was reliable, punctual, helpful, intuitive. His story is heart-breaking. I know I’m a sucker for a sad story and I’m aware that this might not all be true. But if it’s not his story I’m sure it’s someone’s. Ponlouk has three of his own children and he and his wife take care of her sister’s five boys. She died of HIV and her youngest son who is five is HIV+. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What was the problem with Angkor Wat? It’s magnitude and location are impressive, not only the temple but also the imagined city that existed around it. The moat is huge and the approach to the temple is grand. But the overall experience for us wasn’t as intriguing as the other sites. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The exterior walls of the temple are covered in bas relief depicting stories from Hindu mythology. We had fun, with the aid of our guidebook, picking out the various scenes and gods. There are 1200 square metres of carving!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We had a nice meal at the <i>FCC (Foreign Correspondents Club)</i> – not a club at all, just an upscale expat and foreign tourist place. There’s one in Phnom Penh also. A couple of martinis, good food, a bottle of wine. Of course we got into a discussion about the disparity between rich and poor, the role of NGO’s, ethical tourism, ethical journalism. It’s hard to get away from the hard issues here – much as I’d like to try once in awhile.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We took a bus to Phnom Penh yesterday and now we await the next adventure!</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1205984443783788988.post-51141037975538111072011-02-27T03:32:00.000-08:002011-05-04T21:48:45.568-07:00February 12: Yangon - Mandalay - Pyin Oo Lwin - Bagan - Inle Lake<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Yangon</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-oB4JivJOvt8/TXTy0JudkAI/AAAAAAAAAIs/Y0I91gDisko/s1600/Monk_Mahamuni_Paya_2112*-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-oB4JivJOvt8/TXTy0JudkAI/AAAAAAAAAIs/Y0I91gDisko/s320/Monk_Mahamuni_Paya_2112*-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We flew to Myanmar on Saturday evening (Feb 12). The Asia Plaza Hotel – Ian’s first observation was “Reminds me of <i>The Shining</i>.” My first reaction was olfactory As soon as the porter opened the door to our room my nose was assaulted by urinal deodorizer! There was one hanging on a nail in the bathroom and another hanging from the emergency water sprinkler on the ceiling (which I expect was non-functional). I put both of them out in the hall!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The hotel has a glass-enclosed elevator that overlooks the city however it was so grimy that we could barely see through it as we descended for breakfast. Breakfast was served on the mezzanine overlooking the somewhat sumptuous lobby. Buffet-style, chafing dishes etc. however no flame under the dishes so cold fried eggs had to do. The last straw was the rat that joined us for breakfast. It was scurrying around and heading for us. I picked up the heavy chair beside me and let it klunk on the floor and the rat scurried off to his corner.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Asia Plaza, to its credit, had a phone that worked on the reception desk. (I wondered how many other guests had used that phone to plan their escape from the AP!) Ian phoned around and found us a room for 1 night with a possibility of more at the Classique Inn. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A German man who befriended Ian in the lobby of the AP introduced us to a taxi driver who he said spoke good English. He spoke a sort of English, which we’ve discovered is fairly rare. Tourist-centered Bangkok lulled me into thinking everyone would speak <b>my</b> language! The driver was very helpful in taking us to a money-changer who gave us a good rate. It can range from 800 to 900 kyats per dollar. Kyats – pronounced chats. Ian lost a bit because his $100 bills had been folded!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Classique Inn! It’s up in the rich part of town – diplo’s, expats, military. Big houses, big gates, lots of razor wire with the odd hovel or cooked-food stall and a few taxis here and there. The Classique is close to the Air Bagan booking office cum mansion. Within a three minute walk there’s a French restaurant in a mansion. In tough times you gotta do what you gotta do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Classique is owned and run by a government or military family who live in their mansion fifty feet away. Carved teak ceilings, teak floors, elegant spiral staircase, simple elegant crafts and antiques.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">They have a phone and a small computer in the corner of the reception area but no music, no signage, no flashing lights, just calm peaceful simplicity.</span><br />
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<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Our room was upstairs, corner suite with a private patio with potted bamboo and bougainvillea. High, dark, polished teak ceiling, teak floors, bright white bed linen with a red silk runner across the foot of the bed. Even the bathroom had a raised teak floor with narrow gaps for water to drain away.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Kalya the family daughter who manages the place speaks beautiful English and French. She’s very attentive and helpful. We left to go to the French restaurant but it was closed. We came back to the Classique. Kalya didn’t tell us they served food until I asked. Low key sales!</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Booking a ticket to Mandalay</b></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The train ticket booking office is in a long low building that made us think of a commercial cattle shed; lots of metal gates for herding people along. The lighting is very low. We saw some wickets against the far wall. At one of the wickets the agent started to take our info. “Ah! Upper class? Over there.” He pointed off in the distance to what appeared to be a soup place. As we were walking to the far distant adjacent wall of the cattle shed we discerned three or four more wickets. We were shuffled from wicket to wicket until finally an agent decided we were at the right one. I gave him three very respectable US$20 bills. In a flash his face turned to one of disgust as though I’d handed him a dog turd. A corner of one of the bills was folded about ¼ inch. I straightened it and gave it back to him – no way. He settled for two $10’s and left with our money and passports. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The lack of computerization and the need to employ lots of people meant much transcribing of information with many sheets of carbon paper and many ledgers. Finally we had our ticket for two – a rather flimsy piece of paper with handwriting on it. Through sign language I was trying to determine if I could fold it. Much discussion. Finally the Burmese Baptist minister who had been chatting with us took the ticket from my hand and folded it in four and gave it back to me saying god bless. I guess the fold-phobia is reserved for USD only.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Awesome, magnificent, brilliant.. It is a towering golden stupa (a solid circular structure underneath which are enshrined sacred relics). Four thirty feet wide, very long staircases lead up to the stupa from the four directions, NSEW. The staircases are themselves huge enclosed structures with very ornate red and gold roofs.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Gilding the Buddha</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The top of each staircase leads onto a circular marble plaza or terrace around the stupa. There are many pavilions, prayer halls, Buddhas, holy icons, fountains, bells and trees on the plaza.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are five ancient, meaningful Buddhas – one in each prayer hall opposite the tops of the staircases and one jade Buddha on the plaza. They are encased in security glass. The jade Buddha has a ruby the size of an Italian plum on his forehead. </span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There’s a lot of non-Buddhist mysticism going on too. For example, the day of the week you were born is significant. There’s a fountain for each day (two for Wednesday, morning-born and night-born).</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Each fountain consists of a Buddha, a water container, the day symbol (mine is a lion for Tuesday), a guardian spirit or Nat and a conch shell. The ritual is to pour a specific number of cups of water on the Buddha, the day symbol and the conch shell – and then make a wish!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Me768IYX7CI/TXSo4EcjuGI/AAAAAAAAAHw/CcMi0p7uGrM/s1600/Shwezigon_Paya_Bagan_web_2343.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">People here join societies of their birth day, for example The Tuesday Born Society. They get together on Tuesdays and do good deeds to gain merit. We saw a bunch of Monday-borns sweeping the plaza</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We saw other groups of people cleaning prayer halls, polishing Buddha images, painting etc. Various ethnic groups in Myanmar have their own pavilions and prayer halls at the Shwedagon Pagoda complex. They like to keep their ethnic group’s prayer hall respectable.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Gonging!</span></td></tr>
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Myanmar language: We are making an effort to speak a few words. We’re using mnemonics that sometimes work but sometimes crack us up. Ian came up with ‘jesus tomatoes’ for thank you. It’s actually closer to jee soo tin body. I picture Jesus and the tin man from Oz. Hello sounds like Minghella the movie director.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Oh yes, the upper class coach to Mandalay … True, we each had our own seat with plenty of legroom and an adjustable footrest. True, the windows were open so there was lots of fresh air. The grime of ages was unspeakable so I’ll say no more.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The train was an express leaving Yangon at 5:30 a.m. arriving in Mandalay at 10:30 p.m. Seventeen l-o-n-g hours to cover ?? kms.. Ian had read Paul Theroux’s accounts of rail travel through SE Asia and it appealed to him. I think I’ve had it!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Mandalay</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We spent the first morning in Mandalay at the central indoor market and then wandering around the streets. Zegyo market is crammed with everything – tiny stalls where the merchants pile their wares up to the ceiling because they have no horizontal space.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-zdbsH1wC9eM/TXSoufAvVqI/AAAAAAAAAHY/v3UV2VHgZeA/s1600/Mother%2526child_2107_Mandalay-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-zdbsH1wC9eM/TXSoufAvVqI/AAAAAAAAAHY/v3UV2VHgZeA/s320/Mother%2526child_2107_Mandalay-web.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_G73Gzay1tU/TXSn7Il2gKI/AAAAAAAAAGc/ROBEEf92j-s/s1600/Happy_couple_Mandalay_2087-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_G73Gzay1tU/TXSn7Il2gKI/AAAAAAAAAGc/ROBEEf92j-s/s320/Happy_couple_Mandalay_2087-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span> <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">On the streets we passed by onion sellers, rice sellers, chili sellers, betel nut sellers, banana sellers, coconut sellers. The people were very friendly and talkative (we understood very little of what they said but it was definitely friendly). I was wearing a skirt I bought in Yangon and it was a big hit with the ladies.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ftYWOpwdFMQ/TXSnx_9TSKI/AAAAAAAAAGI/jWiQJwwVl9M/s1600/Ferry_dock_WS_Mandalay2121-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Our second day in Mandalay was spent going upriver to visit the ruins of an ancient city – Mingun. I need to do more research but I don’t think it was very ancient. It’s on the tourist itinerary and consequently was flocked with people selling all manner of souvenirs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">One lady pestered me to buy a hat (I was wearing a hat at the time but that didn’t deter her in the least). She started at 3000 kyats and worked her way down. I finally caved in at 1000 kyats (~$1.20). I gave the hat to a housekeeper at the Royal Guest House. I was uncomfortable pawning it off on her but her reaction was overwhelmingly positive!</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We took a taxi to Pyin Oo Lwin (it’s taken me about four days to get that name right!). It’s a hill station at about 3000 feet. We booked into April Guest House that offered ‘Rooms and Bangalores’.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Our bangalore looked out on the garden where an odd horticultural practice was underway. There were several large plants with pointed stiff leaves. Each leaf had a cube of white styrofoam on its point. From a distance they looked like marshmallows! I thought maybe it was some arcane practice in the service of plant health. When I asked I was told: “It is for beautiful.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We bicycled to the famous (well, famous to caffeine-starved addicts) Golden Triangle Café. They have real coffee with real milk. After drinking Nescafe coffee mix (56% sugar, 33% edible oil product and 11% coffee) it was heaven. We each had 2 double espressos!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Fully-charged we bicycled to the famous gardens – Kandagywi. What a treat! Even the mid -60’s bubble gum pop blasting over the lake couldn’t dampen my spirits. This area is very famous for teak. The British made many fortunes from it during their colonial days here. [Aside – I just finished Orwell’s Burmese Days in which the main character is a British timber merchant.]</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The trees were labeled with their botanical names. I figured the one called Tectona Grande must be teak – very tall straight trunk, huge leaves, more than a foot long and almost as wide. The highlight was monkeys in the trees above our heads. Then some deer. Then geese, newborn goslings, and black swans (not the movie).</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I was almost crippled from all the cycling and in some kind of post-caffeine, jagged funk so we walked to town on our second day and had more coffee. We spent a lot of time at a roadside restaurant. Ian did a lot of video of the workings of the restaurant. (When I had a wee intestinal upset later he said, “No doubt!”). We had very fresh, hot, coconut doughnuts.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Bagan</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-pjRKiVbhXdg/TXSlWNjIJiI/AAAAAAAAAFE/zoAqyMV8G98/s1600/Bagan_farmer_web_2349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-pjRKiVbhXdg/TXSlWNjIJiI/AAAAAAAAAFE/zoAqyMV8G98/s320/Bagan_farmer_web_2349.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We took a riverboat here from Mandalay (6 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. Feb 20). It’s a tourist boat and was chock-a-block full of Germans and French, a couple of very rough looking Russians, two Australians and others. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Germans were in a large tour group and, maybe by virtue of numbers alone, had a very proprietarial attitude about the boat. We had to assert our right to sit in two of the unreserved deck chairs despite the fact that the Germans had been sitting in them previously! I checked out the women very carefully to see if they were as ‘refreshed’ (Nancy’s word) as the women Nancy and I saw in VN. No scars evident!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Russians were big, beefy, 40-ish men with long, dirty hair pulled into ponytails. They were the last to board and entered the cabin yelling good wishes to everyone. Their handler asked if he could get them anything. “Da, bottle whiskey!” was the answer. This was 5:45 a.m. By 8:30 they were asleep.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ftYWOpwdFMQ/TXSnx_9TSKI/AAAAAAAAAGI/jWiQJwwVl9M/s1600/Ferry_dock_WS_Mandalay2121-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ftYWOpwdFMQ/TXSnx_9TSKI/AAAAAAAAAGI/jWiQJwwVl9M/s320/Ferry_dock_WS_Mandalay2121-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Iriwaddy river is impressive – wide and shallow and brown. We zigged and zagged from the east bank to the west. The water is very shallow and there are sand bars and shoals to be avoided. We passed some timber operations, very basic. I wondered if the timber was teak. There were a few sugar cane fields but other than that it seemed to be mostly meager fishing and small time agriculture.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We’ve read and heard that Myanmar is supplying China with food now. We haven’t seen any large scale agriculture operations though. An Australian told me the when he was in Pyin Oo Lwin he saw truckloads of mangoes that he was told were on their way to China.</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> One of the not so good things about Myanmar is the lack of internet. There are internet cafes but the connections are mostly unreliable and most are fire-walled by the Generals. Ian is going through withdrawal. By the time we finally post this on our blog it certainly won’t be byte-sized snippets!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-3ui-Ibstm-g/TXS8eKv3sCI/AAAAAAAAAIc/i6fzGuvZDTw/s1600/Bagan_Stupas_B%2526W_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-3ui-Ibstm-g/TXS8eKv3sCI/AAAAAAAAAIc/i6fzGuvZDTw/s320/Bagan_Stupas_B%2526W_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I took a ‘sick day’ in Bagan – a head cold. Bagan is famous (well, relatively so) for having many, many stupas scattered over many square miles. They date from the 11<sup>th</sup> or 12<sup>th</sup> century. On day 2 we rented bicycles and pedaled to see a few of said stupas. Not being an archeologist, anthropologist, architect, Bhuddist scholar or obsessive-compulsive a few were plenty. It’s a hot, dusty pedal worthy of a delicious lime, ginger, honey drink and a long luxurious afternoon nap!!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Taking a horse and buggy to the Bagan airport</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Inle Lake</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-_TVlRvQNClA/TXT5LNMo1UI/AAAAAAAAAJE/278fs9DsWTg/s1600/Older_Karen_Weaver_2480_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-_TVlRvQNClA/TXT5LNMo1UI/AAAAAAAAAJE/278fs9DsWTg/s320/Older_Karen_Weaver_2480_web.jpg" width="223" /></a></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We almost didn’t go to Inle Lake and what a shame that would have been. We flew there from Bagan. It took only 35 minutes whereas the bus takes 13 hours! The lake is at 2900 feet so the temperature in the early morning and evening was chilly. A nice respite.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-pB42Qshphf0/TXT1iQz7D2I/AAAAAAAAAI0/FtbVH7NtRiQ/s1600/Sunset_Inle_2419web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-pB42Qshphf0/TXT1iQz7D2I/AAAAAAAAAI0/FtbVH7NtRiQ/s320/Sunset_Inle_2419web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">As we approached the town bordering the lake I re-experienced a wonderful dream I had a few years ago. The road ran between stretches of water and the usual border between earth and water was blurred. It was as if the road could very easily become water – not as in a flood or washout – but in a quiet transformative way.</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-MBssGFcih1I/TXT6oQ0z8TI/AAAAAAAAAJM/EWot2FDHM7M/s1600/Skifs_lined_up_Inle_2596-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-MBssGFcih1I/TXT6oQ0z8TI/AAAAAAAAAJM/EWot2FDHM7M/s320/Skifs_lined_up_Inle_2596-web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">We stayed at the Four Sisters Inn. It reminded me of the teahouses on the Nepali trekking routes. We set out about 6:45 a.m. for a boat tour of the lake. There were just our boatman and the two of us in a twenty foot long canoe with a big engine. It’s the beginning of the dry season so the lake is only about seven feet deep at its deepest so the propeller sits very high. There are villages on the marshy edges of the lake. All movement is by boat. In some places our boat was skimming the bottom. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was heavenly puttering along the canals with bamboo, and big acacia trees on either side, water buffaloes having their morning soak and some people wrapped in sarongs having theirs too. Sometimes we had to go through small water gates with a one foot drop or rise.</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A large part of the tour is visiting handicraft places. We were A-OK with that – it’s their economy. (Some tourists were not so inclined). An amazing thing we saw was the extraction of fibers from lotus flower stems. The fibers are processed and then woven into scarves. It’s time-consuming and labour-intensive.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-onV29jlJ0S0/TXT8HNSfl8I/AAAAAAAAAJU/MfHnrjEVuNM/s1600/Old_spinner_2547_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="198" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-onV29jlJ0S0/TXT8HNSfl8I/AAAAAAAAAJU/MfHnrjEVuNM/s320/Old_spinner_2547_web.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Another handicraft is the rolling of cigars! I tried one – well, a few puffs anyway. Very mild and tasty. The tobacco is flavored with banana, tamarind etc.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another ‘highlight’ of the tour is the tomato garden. There were staked tomato plants as far as the eye could see growing on the surface of the lake. The earth they were growing in was less than two feet deep and it was staked into the lake bottom. Our boatman got out of the boat and stood beside some plants and rocked the plants back and forth. Maximum sunlight and plenty of water for the roots = delicious, plentiful tomatoes.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">An interesting thing happened in the evening. We ate supper at the Four Sisters. When Ian tried to pay they said, “You are our guests – no pay.” That didn’t happen our first night there. We think it is because we shopped from the artisans and we gave our boatman a good tip. It is a very tight community and we think nothing goes unnoticed. In his Buddha-like way Ian said, “It’s karma.”!!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another flight to Yangon, overnight at the Classique Inn and back to Bangkok. It wasn’t all as easy as pie. There was a huge rigamarole about activating our return flight to BKK on Myanmar International Air – many phone calls and a trip to the airline office. Myanmar feels like it’s in the Dark Ages.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1205984443783788988.post-26174524411049397102011-02-26T23:49:00.000-08:002011-05-04T21:52:46.295-07:00Feb 8: Bangkok<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4Mwu7KzZsXg/TbjkBvH4W2I/AAAAAAAAATI/kdT_TkWH8O8/s1600/Arrival_with_book_Bangkok.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4Mwu7KzZsXg/TbjkBvH4W2I/AAAAAAAAATI/kdT_TkWH8O8/s320/Arrival_with_book_Bangkok.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><br />
<div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’ve decided to be very diligent about keeping this travel journal. I have some vague, incomplete memories of places I’ve visited so this time I’m going to nail it!</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The first two days were spent getting here. Ian and I had middle seats three rows apart but immediately a young Chinese man offered us his aisle seat so we could be together. A good omen? We’re going to be together a lot over the next few weeks.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I watched <i>Never Let Me Go</i>. Very bleak. I’ll read the book now. I started it a while ago but no joy. Commoditization of humans. It wasn’t clear to me from the film how they became so passive and docile. I’m curious about it now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UCWPUwTBc64/Tbjk99xNsSI/AAAAAAAAATQ/yaHd2kLGkvc/s1600/Traffic_jam.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UCWPUwTBc64/Tbjk99xNsSI/AAAAAAAAATQ/yaHd2kLGkvc/s320/Traffic_jam.JPG" width="213" /></a></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Our delayed luggage was supposed to be delivered to our guesthouse at 3 a.m. I didn’t really believe it. No luggage, but Nick at the guesthouse was on top of it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We left to get our Myanmar visas. The skytrain is great, jammed with young people going to work – everyone texting, talking on mobiles, listening to ipods. I was surprised the streets were still so jammed with cars and motorcycles but I guess at $1-2 per ride it’s cheaper to take motorcycle taxis.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">BKK is unrecognizable to me. Travelling on the skytrain creates a distance from what’s going on below. The track is about 8 stories above street level. The train is air conditioned with a disembodied sweet female voice announcing the stations in Thai and English.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">There are small advertising screens throughout the cars playing ads for lots of stuff. The train speeds along between towers of glass and chrome and concrete – shopping complexes, offices, apartments.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We got to the embassy early. There was a short line outside the door. We decided to look for some breakfast. We found a ‘restaurant’ – food cooked and served on the street and eaten inside at rickety plastic chairs and tables. How to know what to eat? Point. The woman said “125 or 230, chicken fish”. I’m not baht savvy so thought it was 125 baht ($4) but it was 1 item for 25 or 2 items for 30.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We had five hours before we could pick up the visas so headed to the river. It’s recognizable! Lots of hotel development on both shores but the river is the same – brown, churned up, full of boat traffic. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We disembarked on the far side after seeing an appealing coffee shop. We thought we could walk back to it. We ended up walking through a maze of narrow walkways barely wide enough for two abreast. We were in a neighbourhood going past people’s open houses (not the real estate kind) looking at daily life. After about 30 minutes of this odd tour we realized we weren’t getting any closer to coffee. It was in fact on the other side of a canal. We saw a ‘shop’ in the front room of a house – a cooler with beer – so we sat on stools in the shop and had a cold Singha and then retraced our steps back to the riverboat and went to pick up the visas.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A strange combination of commercial enterprise – a money-changer with fish tanks on the floor full of small fish with seats around the tanks. The idea is that you put your feet into the tank – with a group of friends I imagine – and let the fish chew on your feet to clean and revitalize them – your feet, not the fish!</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2d12NRiAtDA/TbjkanANaEI/AAAAAAAAATM/52xWVvdEzNk/s1600/Padi_Madi_room.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2d12NRiAtDA/TbjkanANaEI/AAAAAAAAATM/52xWVvdEzNk/s320/Padi_Madi_room.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Our guesthouse – Padi Madi – is about 10 feet off Sukhumvit Road, a roaring busy commercial place. The side street is called Sukhumvit Soi 53. It seems to be a bit of an upscale neighbourhood with several Japanese restaurants, a big new Italian restaurant, a cupcake shop and an English bookstore. A definite expat vibe to it. We had Ian’s 60<sup>th</sup> birthday dinner in a beautiful, modern, but soulless Indian restaurant. Day one in BKK over.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Day two<b> </b>in BKK started with breakfast in a coffee shop on Soi 53 run by a middle aged, white American man and his young Thai wife (you see a lot of that here. Our guesthouse is owned by a German/Thai couple. The former owners – a gay Irish/Thai couple moved to Boston). After bkft I decided to tackle my puffy, sore ankles with a Thai foot massage on Soi 53! Bliss. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8kPBtYSINkY/TbjljxCU9KI/AAAAAAAAATg/6bEhRRP2Sgw/s1600/Wat+Po+with+starburst.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8kPBtYSINkY/TbjljxCU9KI/AAAAAAAAATg/6bEhRRP2Sgw/s320/Wat+Po+with+starburst.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We made our way, via the riverboat again, to Wat Po and the reclining Buddha. Swarming with other farangs but still peaceful and calming. Lots of maintenance and restoration going on. The roofs of some of the shrines and pagodas were blinding in the bright sun. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We went to the boat pier to catch the boat back to the skytrain. Part of the pier structure is a modest little restaurant right on the water looking across the river to Wat Arun - Temple of the Dawn. We watched the sun set behind Wat Arun.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qKbOn7IfoD4/TbjlHQsFhBI/AAAAAAAAATU/8AdItvgR8xg/s1600/Dinner+table+WS+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qKbOn7IfoD4/TbjlHQsFhBI/AAAAAAAAATU/8AdItvgR8xg/s320/Dinner+table+WS+.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was an informal place – our server came to the table eating her own meal from a bowl with her fingers. She threw the menus on the table, gave us a menacing look and walked away. When she came back she was picking green veg from her well-spaced, buck teeth, She wasn’t pleased with what we ordered and pointed at the remaining food in her bowl. We figured we better not argue with her. We pointed to stuff on the menu with little expectation we’d get what we ordered. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When a table of locals were leaving Miss Hospitality went and got the tip jar and brought it to them with loud instructions – we assumed about what they should donate to the tip jar. As soon as they put something in it she opened the jar and pocketed the money. Subtle.</span></div><div style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-wtX9tO1JwNE/TWoA_AAjNuI/AAAAAAAAAAY/V0498vDX9LE/s1600/Siam_Centre_night_Bangkok+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
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