Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all people cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand eachother, we may even become friends - Maya Angelou
It's been two very quick weeks since I arrived at Bangkok's Hualampong train station and as I finally sit down to pound out another journal entry, I'm almost ashamed to admit that I'm cruising comfortably at an altitude of 37,000 feet somewhere above the Pacific and just to the right of Taiwan. For whatever reason, over the past couple weeks I've fallen prey to a severe case of blogger's block. No reflection on the city, of course – Bangkok is, after all, one of my favorite places in the world – but I think that once I unpacked my bags at my mom and dad's place downtown, especially in a city that I've visited and explored several time before, the "adventure" part of my adventure came to an end. No more scrambling for beds or hunting for a semi-edible meal. No more waking up to a completely foreign cityscape or countryside. No more concerns about being blatantly ripped off by market vendors and taxi drivers. Instead, I could let down my guard a little, re-visit my favorite corners of Bangkok, and best of all, at the end of the day I could head back "home" to enjoy the company of my parents (even if - especially if - that meant getting inexplicably sucked into a couple of episodes of "So you think you can dance" with my mother). Life is good.
ropical sun. Of course, any attempt to convey just what it is that Bangkok "is" within the confines of a blog entry would inevitably come up short. Instead, I've decided to describe each of my Bangkok highlights in a sentence or two:
k of joy on the faces of the shopkeepers when my Mom walks down the alley – she apparently funnels a lot of business their way, myself included. Phra Sumen fort on the Chao Phraya is my favorite park in the city – it's the place to go when the Khao San freak show (a couple of blocks away) gets a little too freaky. The best foot massages in the Kingdom can be found nearby at a secret location. Enough said. Shooting blanks? Barren as the Mojave? Just want to see something weird? Check out the Lingham Shrine ("Pecker Park" to my Dad). It's tucked behind the Hilton on Wireless. Of course. Need a lucky charm? Take your pick from zillions at the Amulet Market next to Thammasat University. Like ping pong? Head to Patpong. Once again, enough said. China Town and Little India combine all the sights, sounds, smells, and chaos you would hope to find in a city like Bangkok – avoid the alleys if you are at all claustrophobic and watch out for the busy streets. I was saved from an indefinite curbside holding pattern by a sweet old lady when she grabbed my arm and pulled me along side as she lunged into traffic. Maybe she figured the traffic was more likely to slow for a sunburned and obviously confused farang. They weren't, but we survived. Those soi (s
treet) dogs that look unusually well-fed are "rice puppies" and you'd look that way too if all you (over)ate was rice. But, at least they're cared for, if not well cared for. A drive out to Kanchanaberi is a great way to spend a Saturday (especially if you're not the one in the driver's seat. Thanks, Dad). Just avoid squashing certain coins on the train tracks that cross the River Kwai. Lese majeste is no joke. Gawking at another man's rented girl is no joke either – I just missed what was shaping up to be a pretty good farang brawl on the sky train the other day when, due to horrible timing, the train arrived at my stop before the fists started flying. Christmas in Bangkok is always surreal – even more so when you see how deep this Buddhist city dives into the holiday spirit. After a series of deflated New Years due to the tsunami, random bombings, and political unrest, this year's celebration was amazing – the city sounded like a war zone as a dozen different firework displays simultaneously lit up the night. On a sadder note, nearly 60 people were killed in a nightclub fire shortly after midnight. Bangkok just can't seem to catch a break.
I love riding trains. My interest probably began as a kid - when I would go to the local amusement park and ride snail paced loops around a small lake full of carp - but I think it truly took root on a couple dusty long haul trips I took as a Peace Corps volunteer in Tanzania. My friends and I would book an entire berth for ourselves and ride, for days at a time, the beat up Chinese trains down to Victoria Falls or up to Lake Victoria for holiday. After watching my first African sunrise from the "comfort" of a rickety dining car I was hooked. Since then, in every county I've visited, I've made an effort to get myself on a train for at least a small portion of my journey. But here's the thing, I ruined myself by unwittingly picking such spectacular trips so early on in my train riding career. After East Africa and an extended trip (with lots of rail time) across northern India, I've found that nothing else quite compares. Be that as it may, I keep looking for train schedules and rail stations whenever I travel, always hoping that I'll stumble into another one of those magical trips.
ith Thais and foreigners alike. I was here about four years ago and, while I haven't noticed much of a change in the downtown old quarter - more coffee shops, maybe - I've heard that the sprawl and accompanying traffic headaches are getting worse. At any rate, I have to catch the southbound train to Bangkok at the Chiang Mai station, requiring at least one night in town. I stretched my visit out to a couple of days which, given my general distaste for knicknack shopping and suffering from the early symptoms of "temple fatigue" (common in this corner of the world), seems to be just about right.
sor of today's Thailand. One result of such a long Buddhist history is the sheer number of temples that were built in and around the city - rumored to rival the number of temples in all of Bangkok. They're literally everywhere you turn and include everything from large active monasteries to random, seemingly abandoned chedis (brick towers) dotting alleyways. The most impressi
ve of all is Wat Chedi Luang - a huge tower in the city center that was partially destroyed by a 16th century earthquake and never really repaired.
-11s, and Starbucks.....always Starbucks. 
I'll be the first to admit that I know absolutely nothing about Myanmar, other than prior to 1989 it was known as Burma and that its military dictatorship has been creating misery for its own people, and neighbors, for decades. So, when I heard a rumor that you could actually cross into Burma (the name preferred by the country's democracy movement) from Thailand, my curiosity was piqued. Turns out that the border between Mae Sai, Thailand and Tachilek, Burma was open to foreigners on the condition that you pay a $10 fee, leave your passport with the Burmese immigration officials (ostensibly to keep you from wandering off and stirring up trouble), and leave within 24 hours of your arrival. Realistically, this limits you to Tachilek although, I had also heard that two-week visas are occasionally available depending upon the whims of the government - but even then you are severly limited as to where and how you can travel. On top of all that, the entire border is occasionally locked down depending on the security situation of the day. Rebels operate in the area and Burma has even lobbed shells over the border into Mae Sai when fighting erupts. 
ull well that I wouldn't see anything remotely related to the "real" Burma in this border town, I decided to go anyway. Yes, I felt slightly guilty about giving my entry fee to the dictatorship, but I also hoped that once inside I could spread a bit of baht to others in genuine need. The border crossing was surprisingly efficient - Thais had their streamlined procedure - and I was pulled aside into a small office where I gave up my passport in exchange for a small, computer generated "day pass" complete with my photo. My 10 US dollar bills were completely unacceptable, however, because of some small ink stains, so I had to fork over 500 baht instead - a $5 penalty. After being ticked off for a few minutes, I consoled myself with the thought that at least I hadn't provided the government with hard US currency. And with that, I was off, free to roam for the day.....sort of.
knockoffs of designer labels from China mixed in with the dead animals mentioned above. Monkey skulls, tiger skins, bear claws, turtle shells, and some sort of dried up testicles seemed to be in high demand. I got the feeling that if I had only known who to ask I could have found an AK-47 or rocket launcher, as well. The biggest headaches were the roaming vendors selling decks of girlie cards, contraband cigarettes, Viagra and Cialis. Everywhere I went I was being offered Viagra at cut rate prices.....after a while, you start to develop a bit of a complex concerning your manhood. And then, as always, there were the whispered offers of opium, heroin, hashish, and hookers. Since Burmese prisons sound even less appealing than their Thai counterparts, I obviously passed.
Visa formalities on the Thai side of the river were fairly straightforward, except for a minor glitch requiring that I leave the country on Christmas Day - a full week before my flight back to the States. Oh well, mai pen rai, as the Thais like to say. I'm sure it will all get straightened out long before my expulsion from the Kingdom. At any rate, the border town of Chiang Khon seemed pleasant enough, but as soon as I had my passport stamped I was whisked to the bus station by a motorbike taxi (driven by a woman - not all that unusual in Thailand, but the first I had met in the last three months). With no time to change dollars into baht so early in the morning, I had to convince her to take American - no problem. The local bus driver was harder to convince, but after I agreed to pay a slightly inflated rate for my ride to Chiang Rai (three dollars instead of two - highway robbery!) he let me board. Riding shotgun with my new friend and his ticket-taking sidekick, a cheerful middle-aged woman I took to be his wife, we pulled out of the station on time and arrived in Chiang Rai a couple hours later.
of Southeast Asia, it is developed, modern, and "first-world" in many ways (7-11, anyone?). The people are generally outgoing, exceedingly friendly, and for better or worse, completely used to foreigners. In fact, one of the things I like least about being in Thailand is the impression I'm afraid I give by traveling as a single male. I find my introductions to the people I meet on the road inevitably including the information that "I'm going to see my parents in Bangkok for the holidays" - in an unconscious attempt to show that I'm NOT a sex tourist. Yeah, the creepy dudes and their beautiful rent-a-girlfriends are everywhere, as are the go-go bars and massage parlors. My little guesthouse was at the end of a pretty, tree-lined alley "guarded" by a well-placed massage parlor manned (woman-ed?) by a handful of very enthusiastic girls. The first few times I walked by, I was fresh meat and fair game - but after a few "mai ao's" (no thanks) they realized I was just staying down the road and not cruising. From then on, I was magically off-limits and free to say hey, flirt, and joke around with them whenever I went home for the night. That's Thailand.
The plan is to travel two full days up the Mekong, fighting the current all the way to the Lao city of Hua Xai just opposite of the Thai border crossing at Chiang Khong. Traveling from sunup to sundown each day still requires an overnight stop at Pak Beng, a small town whose entire existance seems to revolve around accomodating river travelers. Our boat is the typical stretched out, wooden, Lao-style cargo boat that moves people and goods up and down the Mekong every day. This particular run consists of Lao villagers, who hop on and off the boat at random settlements along the way, a half dozen foreigners who are, like me, headed to Thailand, and a cargo of hundred pound bags of rice and wood flooring packaged for export. No food on board - we were warned to bring our own - but plenty of beer and soda sold at a small bar located towards the back of the boat by a mostly sullen and/or extremely bored young woman.
modes of transport in this corner of Laos, boats of all sizes including a few big barges hauling heavy loads of teak logs to upstream to Thailand or further into Yunnan province in China.
o real rapids to speak of on this stretch. A very good thing considering that the few tricky pockets of eddies and cross-currents that we encountered caused the skinny boat to list quite a bit - even tossing some cargo around at one point. Of course, none of this was helped by the foreigners' refusal leave the sunny side of the boat in order to evenly distribute the weight, even against the (weak) admonitions of the crew. They (the crew) just shrugged, lit more cigarettes, and kept chugging along.
ow the left hand bank was all Thailand and just before sundown, we arrived in Hua Xai. The border posts were closed for the day, as I figured they would be, and I found a cheap and grotty room not far from the boat ferry. The next morning I went straight down to immigration to get stamped out just as the office was opening for the day and although there were a dozen backpackers lined up to enter Laos, I was the only one heading the other direction. Consequently I had the ferry boat all to myself as it went back across to the far bank and, after blowing my last 40 kip on a latte (these border towns are so sophisticated), I jumped on board and bowed goodbye to Laos - five minutes later I stepped off the boat and officially entered the Kingdom of Thailand.
Five minutes into my two-day journey up the Mekong to the Thai border and any regrets that I may have had about multiple scarf purchases at the Luang Prabang night market vanished. In fact, I was beginning to wish I had bought a shawl or something with a little more coverage - maybe swiped the ratty wool blanket out of my room at the guesthouse. As we pulled away from town, gray clouds hung low over the surrounding mountains and the boat, while plenty comfortable, was wide open to the cold morning breeze blowing downstream. It seems - confirmed by several shivering locals onboard - that winter had officially arrived in northern Laos. And, as if to mark the occasion, Luang Prabang was hit by a city-wide power outage on my last night in town. I woke up to a dark and cold wood-floored room, packed my bags by headlamp, and settled for a cold water face splash in the sink instead of a hot shower. Still enough hot water left in the thermos downstairs to whip up a cup of instant coffee and, with an hour to kill before departure, I dragged a chair out on to the second floor balcony overlooking the little alley below. Munching on a fresh-baked pineapple muffin from the market around the corner, I sat back and enjoyed one last sunrise in Luang Prabang.
