Wanderlust Heaven!

Sorry that this is a bit late – have been kept more than busy in San Francisco by my buddy’s wedding and my major domo role in that.  Let’s back up a bit and get back to sunny days along the Mekong River and inland Cambodia, when I was far less frantic and completely in the business of seeing the world…

As mentioned in my previous posting, Phnom Penh had a lot more going for it than I ever imagined.  The Khmer Rouge were kicked out almost 30 years ago, so the city’s had a chance to rebuild.  But the civil war really didn’t conclude till 1998 or so – when Pol Pot died – so you could say that Cambodia and Phnom Penh weren’t in the clear till then. 

I think that one of the drivers of PP’s revitalization has been the presence of NGO staff.  I say that with some hesitation, having seen first-hand how UN and other foreign personnel can do as much harm as good with their bumbling interventions.  For a real screed on this line of thinking, pick up a copy of Paul Theroux’s Dark Star Safari – it’s a great read regardless.  My point is that the presence of foreigners has created a semi-cosmopolitan scene in PP, one that’s still more muted than what you see in Bangkok, for instance, where entire sections of the city seem to be foreigner ghettos, no Thais in sight.  PP seems to have a pretty good mix of peoples right now and you can find what you’re looking for…unless you’re some sort of deviant.  Then again, that’s probably no bar either.

I promised you a few photos of Phnom Penh, here they are:

Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum and Choeung Ek Killing Fields – torture room, monument with thousands of skulls, graphic signs in Killing Fields, bits of clothing and bones from murdered victims, nearby smiling children – quite a contrast vs. the deathly feeling of the place:

Royal Palace/Grounds:

Main/Central Market - apparently one of the world’s largest ‘ziggurats’:

Train Station/Boulevard:

Vietnamese-Cambodian Friendship Memorial – the locals actually can’t stand the Vietnamese, but the governments are friendly…

After PP I moved on to Siem Reap and the Angkor Wat area.  The bus ride there was perfectly comfortable – 5 or so hours, air-con bliss, bus not overflowing with passengers.  Was met at the depot in Siem Reap by a driver from my guesthouse and whisked right there.  I stayed at the Two Dragons guesthouse, the owner of which writes the renowned Tales of Asia blog/website and is a font of knowledge for Cambodia/SE Asia.  This fellow, Gordon, was unfortunately away when I was in Siem Reap, but I still enjoyed his establishment. 

Had planned on 3 days of sight-seeing at the numerous Angkor temples nearby.  Needed a bit of exercise – have gotten a little soft lately.  Decided to rent a bike for day 1 and see how that went.  In the morning, it was all good.  Biked up to Angkor Wat, that was about 6 km from town.  I’d been there once, briefly, years ago, but was still spellbound by the sight of this place, the world’s largest religious edifice (I’m not including the Wal-Mart in Bentonville, Arkansas).  Walked around the grounds for 45 minutes or so – that was plenty.  I must admit to struggling in my efforts to ddescribe and rate a place like Angkor Wat – it’s certainly spectacular and iconic…but I’ve had the fortune to also visit places like the Taj Mahal, the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, and a few other global hotspots, and I can’t truly say that Angkor Wat is any more impressive than those.  This may be a case of comparing apples and oranges…or perhaps I shouldn’t bother with this superficial sort of thinking and should simply appreciate each site for what it is.  I certainly think it would be next to impossible to put up something like Angkor Wat today – even in a low-cost labor place like Cambodia.  Here’s a shot of Angkor Wat, with more to follow later in this posting:

Got back on the bike – not a very good model, unfortunately, and biked around the rest of the ‘Mini Circuit.’  Angkor Thom was next up – by now it was close to noontime and getting very hot.  Stopped for some fresh pineapple – the vendors were quite energetic and it was all I could do to evade them during the course of the day.  Angkor Thom is spread out – the most impressive aspect is a temple called the Bayon, which has hundreds of gargoyle heads and is a bizarre jumble of stone and carvings.  A few shots for your perusal:

Spent a few more hours biking around the Mini Circuit.  I won’t get into all the temples and details here, I’m feeling lazy and there’s just so much out there that I’d counsel you to check it out online or in a guidebook.  Some people spend years hanging around the temples and I could see why.

The vendor community comprises loads of kids who evidently support their families.  The kids are relentless, but cute – and they’ve all memorized the capitals of major countries and some US states.  When you walk by they ask you your country, rattle off the capital, then act like you owe them a purchase to restore global equilibrium.  I forced a few to dig deep and come up with some obscure capitals (Madagascar – Antananarivo), some of which were understandably beyond them.  Not many visitors from Madagascar…

The bike…it had seemed a good idea at the time, but by 2 p.m. or so I was dragging.  The seat was rock-hard…the gears didn’t work well and I was either in low gear, pedaling like mad to get a little bit of speed, or in a high gear and struggling to get my feet around.  And it was damn hot.  I must have bought 15 half-liters of water from vendors, at a buck a pop.  It would have been cheaper to hire a tuk-tuk for the entire day at that price.  I originally intended to bike the route for the exercise and also the freedom of being solo, with no driver hanging around or shunting me over to his cousin’s noodle shop.  But as the hours and kilometers accumulated, I realized that my 40-year-old body was reaching its limits and that day 2 would feature me in the backseat of a tuk-tuk, seeing the temples just like the old geezers I mocked on day 1.  So it goes…

Managed to get back to the guesthouse, after having contemplated loading the bike in the back of a tuk-tuk at Angkor Wat.  Dropped off the bike and found a driver for the next morning.    

Reflected on the day of temple-touring.  It was more than obvious that having Angkor Wat et al is a massive boon for Cambodia.  Not many tourists would bother to visit the country if it weren’t there…you’d just have a few grubby backpackers looking for powerful dope and hanging around the wats.  Between the tuk-tuk drivers, the bartenders, guesthouse employees, etc. Cambodia is likely to do pretty well and continue growing and putting the horror years in its rearview mirror.  Might be an argument in favor of large-scale capital projects, a la the Parisian monuments from the Mitterand years.  Sure, they cost a ton of money that might be put to better short-term use…but hey, one day Paris might be a ruin like Angkor Wat and people still living in ‘France’ or whatever the area might be called can guide visitors around the remains of the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, etc.  If it were up to Hitler, those Paris tours would be going on right about now…

Next morning got up and did the ‘Grand Circuit’ with my tuk-tuk driver Set.  He was a good guy – from Siem Reap, knowledgeable about the temples and stories.  Spent the entire day going around temples like Preah Khan, walking up the steep steps and checking out the carvings, many of which were intricate and reminiscent of those I’ve seen in Indian and Nepalese temples.  And I have to say that I was in much better shape at the end of the day as a result of hiring the tuk-tuk.  I was still tired, but neither sore nor spent. 

Recalled a morning many years ago when I got up at our house in Framingham, went downstairs, and got the Boston Globe newspaper from the front porch.  The headline that morning – I think it was December 26, 1979 – was around the Vietnamese invasion of Cambodia, an excursion which soon ousted the Khmer Rouge.  I had just started reading the newspaper, the reason being that it was Larry Bird’s first year with the Boston Celtics basketball club and I was already a huge fan.  So each morning I’d look to see how the team, and Larry, did, and for some reason that front-page headline stuck with me.  It’s possible that it’s a ‘recovered memory,’ i.e. conjured up and not real.  But I think it’s accurate.  I didn’t think much of it at the time…I would have been 12 years old and not that politically aware.  But perhaps it remained in the back of my mind and was waiting all the while for me to visit the scene and call it forth to be probed.

Didn’t do much that night – walked around ‘Pub Street’ in Siem Reap, ate some Khmer food (rather tasty), had a couple of beers.  Wanted to see Angkor Wat at sunrise the next day, which required a 4:30 a.m. wakeup.  Ugh.  Decided to do it, so turned in early.

Set was waiting for me outside at 4:30.  Well, he was waiting in his tuk-tuk, asleep in the back.  I got him up and off we went.  I was just about the first person to get there, but the sun didn’t really come up till around 5:30 a.m. and by that point there were scores of tourists.  Thankfully it was low season, otherwise there would have been hundreds.  Got some nice shots and here’s a few to show you how it was:

We then moved on to a couple other temples that are relatively far away – Banteay Srey and Banteay Samrey, both of which are nice to stroll around.  We wound things up with a visit to the Landmine Museum, run by a Cambodian fellow named Aki Ra who was a child soldier in the civil war and layed quite a few mines.  Now he spends his time removing them.  God’s work, to be sure. 

Made a donation and we then sped home.  Reached the guesthouse by 10 a.m.  Had had more than enough of the temples – ‘temple fatigue’ had set in.  As I entered the guesthouse, it started to pour, and I tramped upstairs to my room to take a nice long nap, with the raging storm serving as a pleasant backdrop of sound…

Went back to Pub Street that night.  Spent a fair bit of time catching up on emails – am getting so many these days.  Needed to start getting my act together for the wedding in San Francisco – my name was attached to a slew of preparatory duties.  After being a self-centered bum for so many months, I’d soon need to put on a tux and act respectable (and responsible).  Hmmmm……..

Was still a bit weary, so started heading back.  At the end of Pub Street a group of local guys was milling around.  One of them was showing them something metallic – as I walked by I saw that it was a fairly large revolver.  Right – this was still Cambodia.  I kept my head down and kept walking, and was soon out of there. 

Next morning had to again get up at an awful hour, as I wanted to take a boat to Battambang, Cambodia’s second-largest city.  I had heard that the PP-Siem Reap boat was a rip-off – US$25 and 6-7 hours of travel, vs. US$5 and 5 hours for the bus.  I had opted for the latter…but I generally like boat travel and wanted to see the Tonle Lake, which is apparently Asia’s largest freshwater body of water.  So I signed up for the boat ride to Battambang, having heard that it was pretty good and not that long of a trip. 

Tonle Lake was cool – lots of little villages on stilts out over the lake, reminded me of Inle Lake in Burma.  There was a floating Christian church, a pharmacy, restaurants, etc.  But for all that, the boat ride wasn’t great.  For one, because it was still early in the rainy season, with the riverways quite low, the ride took 7-8 hours – whereas when there’s more water, it can take only 3-4.  The last 3-4 hours were brutal – hot as hell, and we got stuck many times on the Sangker River, which runs to and through Battambang.  Seems the river weeds get stuck on the propeller, and sometimes the boat’s hull gets stuck in the mud, so the crew is busy and there’s not much forward progress.  I was sitting with some fun people, including the vivacious Sarah from Toronto – but was still fried by the time we got there.

It’s funny…just the day before I was celebrating the relative lack of rain.  My plans hadn’t gone off-course due to the weather – always a danger in rainy season.  But the boat ride to Battambang would have been far more enjoyable if the river was higher.  You’ve gotta look at all sides of the situation before coming to a final verdict, methinks…

Battambang proved to be a pleasant city.  Very sleepy…classic old French buildings along the river and in town.  I think that 90% of the boat passengers checked into the same hotel, the Hotel Chhaya, which advertises heavily and has a van waiting for the boat to arrive.  The hotel was perfectly fine – clean, aircon, even a couple bars of soap. And, importantly, I was able to score a seat in a shared taxi the next morning to the Thai border – I needed to return to Bangkok the next day, as the following day I was flying to San Francisco.  Are you still with me?

My head was killing me when I reached the hotel.  I dumped my bags, went to get a bowl of noodle curry with some new acquaintances, then walked around for a half hour.  Then I started to truly feel the pain from the boat trip and took a delicious 2-hour nap in my room.  One of the very best naps I’ve ever had…I could have gone for another 5 hours, but wanted to see a bit more of the town before departing.

Cleared up a few emails, and renewed my travel insurance policy.  Pretty good deal – US$226 for 6 months.  Walked over to a restaurant/cooking school called, naturally, Smokin’ Pot.  Sat next to a couple Danes who were on my boat earlier.  They work for the Danish government, and are 30/40-somethings like myself.  We joked about the propensity of some Asians to think that all white people look the same – white people, of course, are always mixing up Asian faces and claiming ‘they all look alike.’ 

Visited the Riverside Bar for a couple beers.  It was pretty dead (it was a Sunday night), and the bugs were driving me mad.  Got out of there and walked back to the hotel.  Battambang is so mellow and modest that you can see the stars in the sky at night, it’s like being in the middle of nowhere.  Kind of liked that.

Returned to my aircon room for some more sleep.  Before turning in, read a local magazine – there was a very funny article about ‘Hebonics,’ a form of English used by older Jewish people which involves a high quotient of complaining and looking at the dark side of things.  A true speaker of Hebonics might reply to the question ‘How are you?’ with ‘What, with this foot of mine?’  Or, if someone mentions that it’s a nice sunny day, the typical Hebonics reply might be, ‘Yeah, it’s nice, if you want to get melanoma.’  Not the sort of article you expect to find in a Cambodian publication.  I saved it, let me know if you want to read it.

In Cambodia one of the typical greetings translates to ‘have you eaten rice today?’  I might just start using that wherever I go…

Got up early, again, next morning to head to Bangkok.  I’d miss Cambodia, her sights and people.  Had a grand 10 days in the country and will try to get back there again soon. 

The share taxi works like this:  there are 6 seats, including the driver’s, so 5 passengers pay to squeeze in there.  Most of the taxis are Toyota Camrys – not your typical 6-personal machine.  Back seat passengers pay US$5-6, the solo front passenger pays US$10-12.  I got the front seat and was thrilled about it – the 4 people in back were locals and displayed little sign of being tortured by their predicament, but must have been in some discomfort.  My large frame back there would have meant sorrow for all.  So I sat up front and watched the countryside go by for a couple hours. 

After the fork at Sisophon, the previously good road deterioriated rapidly.  Rumor has it that an airline has actively impeded the scoring/paving of this road so that air travel remains the favored approach.  I tend to believe that rumor…in any event I’d like to know who’s responsible, because the road is a bloody disgrace and I felt like vomiting at periodic intervals until the border.  I doubt it’s to impede Thai Army tanks from coming over the border – the Thai generals are too busy making money from illegal logging, poaching, gem trading, etc.  Oh yeah – and mucking up the country’s politics.

Got to the Thai border at Poipet town.  A real dump – a few casinos for weekend Thai gamblers, that was about it.  Spent my remaining real on gum and water.  At the Cambodia Emigration/exit line I noticed that they were using Logitech webcameras to take photos.  I thought that was sort of interesting…

Walked over to Thailand, cleared Immigration and found a tuk-tuk to take me to Arantha Prathet bus station for the ride to Bangkok.  That all went well and the ride was relaxing and without any drama.  We rode by a serious car accident – one car had its entire front shorn off, the other vehicle was over in a ditch and there looked to be some major injuries.  Didn’t linger, so can’t say for sure. 

Got to Bangkok, took a taxi over to friend Bob’s place in Soi Rang Nam.  I had a room there that night.  Bob was waiting for me outside, felt like I was returning to a home of sorts.  He let me into his room, where I had left some things, and then we parted for a few hours.  I wanted to rotate my stuff and do a few things online.

That took longer than expected…but I managed to head over to the nearby park at 6 p.m. for a run.  Lots of locals were there too, there was an aerobics class of sorts being run and people were blowing off some steam.  I did a few laps, sweating like a water buffalo, and then went back to the apartment to cool off, shower, and find Bob and his new-ish friend Kate.

We had drinks and dinner across the street at the excellent Water Bar.  Then Bob brought us over to the Banyan Tree Hotel, which has a superb roofdeck bar high up, I think it’s the 65^th floor or thereabouts.  Very classy place – got some red wine and cocktails and stayed up there taking photos and shooting the breeze for a couple hours.  A waiter took this photo of the 3 of us:

Had to get up very early, yet again – 4^th day in a row – to fly to the States.  Went back to the apartment and tried to sleep for 3 hours.  It began to rain as soon as I lay down – I found that comforting, as I like the background noise as I sleep, and also because I hadn’t gotten caught in the downpour and felt lucky.  Soon feel asleep, having set both alarms and left the blinds open to let in the early morning sun.

Got up, took a cab to Suvarnabhumi Airport.  Didn’t see my flight on the screen – because there were so many code-shares associated with it that it took a minute for my ANA listing to appear.  Then I saw it, and checked in.  Was feeling very groggy and wasn’t happy that this was to be an economy class flight for me, spoiled brat that I’ve become…

Changed my opinion of this new airport – it’s rather nice.  Lots of coffee shops, and you can get a good croissant, a hearty breakfast, whatever liquor suits you, etc.  But I recalled the hellish line when I had flown in from Tokyo, so will reserve further judgment until I return in a couple weeks.

Began reading a book called Another Quiet American on the flight, which was going to Narita Airport in Japan, where I’d transfer to a flight to San Francisco.  This book was written by an American who went to work in Vietiane, Laos back in 1999.  It covers his often bizarre experiences there working for the national Tourism Authority.  I’ll be in Laos from August 9^th-24^th or so, and was happy to get some insights into that low-key and mellow place.  Managed to finish the book before I reached SF, and gave it to my friend Curtis there.  Highly recommended.

Had to change plans/flights in Tokyo.  We landed 30 minutes late…and unbeknownst to me, United had moved up my 2^nd flight 15 minutes.  Had to run at a good clip to make the gate…made it, but worried that my bag didn’t.  There were about 50 minutes between the flights, that’s about the minimum the companies say they need to move bags.  But I didn’t get too anxious about it, and just relaxed en route to SF.

The fellow sitting next to me on the Tokyo-SF flight was a weird little troglodyte.  He’d come up with non-sequiturs every hour or so – ‘Were you surprised by the flavor that sake has?’ and other comments out of the blue.  He finally fell asleep…but later awoke and needed to get out and go to the toilet every hour.  I was in the aisle seat and was repeatedly tortured by him.  Oh well.

Landed in SF.  Well-organized airport.  Got my rental car, drove up to my friend Curtis’s house in Corte Madera, over the Golden Gate bridge (covered in fog, of course) north of the city.  Curtis and I (and Curtis’s wife Pam) met in the NYC Hash House Harriers back in 1996 or so.  They moved to SF not long after that, and I went to their wedding in Laguna Beach, near LA, about 8 years ago.  We’ve stayed in touch and that’s been great – Curtis is a funny guy and probably one of the very best writers I know.  I save his emails as they all have a touch of mad genius to them.

Curtis has a very sweet work gig – he’s a senior editor on the regulatory side for an investment bank, and works from noon-8 or 9 p.m. from home, checking reports.  He was home when I got there – had a beer and caught up for a while.  Then I had to head out and commence a lengthy series of wedding-related activities for buddy Seung’s nuptials.

I’ve known Seung since 1993 – we also met in NYC, courtesy of my b-school friend Ray, who would also be attending the wedding.  I was a groomsman at this wedding, so was deputized to help Seung with about a zillion chores.  First, we set off to San Rafael to get fitted for our tuxes.  No problems there – and it turned out that the clerk was from my hometown of Framingham, Mass.  That was odd.

Dropped Seung off at his house, and headed back to Curtis’s.  Saw an enormous REI outlet nearby – went in for an hour to stock up on traveling goodies.  My Tevas, for example, well, they’re probably hazmat by now.  So got a new pair, as well as a slew of other things.  Checked off that box on my to-do list…

Curtis and I devoured a large pizza, then went over to Mill Valley to the Sweetwater Bar to see a local band called, randomly enough, Smoklahoma.  Highly entertaining, especially after we had a few drinks and prepared our minds to be opened.  The lead singer was channeling the twin spirits of Jerry Garcia and Bob Dylan.  Much better performance than I expected.  Of course, the $12 cover charge meant the bar was set pretty high…

Next day, a few of the wedding participants went to Richardson’s Bay for a couple hours of sea kayaking.  That was good fun – an excellent way to see part of the harbour and the wild-looking pontoon houses built around it.  Our guide was an ex-hippie and kept us entertained with stories about the local residents.  One fellow invented the retractable seatbelt, made a fortune, then squandered it building a house on a hill near Tiburon that started sliding into the sea during a small quake.  Here we are in our 2-man kayaks:

That night, we had Seung’s bachelor party.  Dinner at Three Seasons in the city – very nice Vietnamese food.  I was given ordering responsibilities and that came off fine.  Bar-hopped a bit, then took the gang over to New Century for the requisite gentlemen’s club experience.  And dafagdasgdsv dfhgeargtaEA 3aq5V3Q         V3 52……………

Had to pick up our tuxes the next day, Thursday.   Some final alterations were needed – that was torture.  We were there for 90 minutes.  Then I raced into the city to have lunch in Noe Valley with an old friend, James, from Monitor.  He and his family/in-laws have started a Chinese-language education company and I’m considering investing in it. 

Drove back up north.  Got my stuff from Curtis’s, then checked into the Mill Valley Inn.  Nice little place, in the center of Mill Valley.  Ran into b-school friend Ed at reception.  Chatted a while.  Then had to get ready for the wedding rehearsal session nearby.  That walk-through went fine.  Dinner was afterward, with about 50 people joining us at a local Italian restaurant.  Saw b-school friend Ray there, it was like a mini Darden reunion.  Stayed up fairly late trading stories and jokes with them.  I’d like for our class to have a good showing at next year’s 15^th Darden reunion.

The wedding was on Friday afternoon.  Spent the morning having coffee with friends, then did a few things online/phone.  Paid a Dept. of Motor Vehicles fee for my upcoming motorcycle class in Boston.  Called American Airlines and tried, unsuccessfully, to move around some upcoming flights.  Did some emails. 

The wedding loomed.  Put on my tux – felt odd, given my recent attire of Tevas, singlets and shorts.  Walked over to the Outdoor Arts Club, the 100-year-old historic building where the wedding would be held.  Helped get things set up, and then it was time for the big event. 

The wedding itself was lovely – Seung and his bride Lisa made it highly personal, with lots of memories and vows to each other.  The personal touch ran throughout the evening – they had created a photo book with hundreds of old and recent photos of themselves, growing up and together, and it was a cool accompaniment to the ceremony and dinner afterwards.  Don’t tell anyone, but I just might have been taking a few notes…

I had a fine time hanging out with Seung, Lisa and my other friends.  Lots of crazy dancing (I danced Brick House with Lisa’s Mom – neither of us are likely to forget those 5 minutes) and wine consumption.  I felt like a cigarette and bartender Sam rolled me one – I proceeded to get woozy and a bit nauseous from the strength of the tobacco (I think) and had to sit down for 15 minutes.

Next morning there was a farewell brunch at Seung’s/Lisa’s house.  Got in my rental car to drive there, and it wouldn’t start.  Great.  Went instead with Ray and his wife Sally.  Called Avis, and they jump-started the car a couple hours later.  Cars are a real pain in the ass, but when you’re in the USA you pretty much need one…

Seung and Lisa were getting ready for their honeymoon – 3 weeks across Oz and NZ – so we took off around noon.  I felt somewhat good about myself – a couple nights beforehand, at the dinner for out-of-town guests, I had told Seung and Lisa that they needed visas to get into Oz – they weren’t aware of that.  Imagine landing in Kingsford-Smith Sydney Airport and not having a visa – ugh.  So I had alerted them to that requirement and they took care of it online.  And I won $100 from Seung – he had insisted that no visa was required, and he was wrong.  I did live in Sydney for nearly 2 years, you know…

I went with Curtis to return the groomsmens’ tuxes – my final wedding duty.  Then we ate a huge Mexican lunch and went back to his house to relax for a bit.  We had SF Giants tickets and Barry Bonds was 1 homer short of tying Hank Aaron’s alltime record of 755.  Drove to the game – the stadium is just 5 years old and quite nice, a bit like Camden Yards in Bal’mer.  Pretty good game – but Bonds did very little and wasn’t a factor.  In the bottom of the 9^th inning, the Giants were up, trailing 3-2.  A few hits and walks, and the game was tied.  Ray Durham came to the plate – with Bonds on deck.  There was only 1 out – I was praying for Durham to strike out or pop up.  But he hit a game-ending/winning shot to deep center and that was it.  It’s funny – a few weeks earlier I had asked Curtis to get the tix, on the off chance that Bonds would be in line to tie/break the record.  And I was right on with the timing, it’s just that the batter just ahead of Bonds denied me.  And, of course, Bonds didn’t come through during his 4-5 at-bats.  Oh well – it was still a fun night out.  Went over to the Deuce Bar in Mill Valley after that – had a good talk with Curtis about family life and other deep topics.  Then we grabbed a late snack at the infamous Jack-in-the-Box, and turned it.

So now we’re current.  I had breakfast with Curtis & family this morning, then got in my rental, was relieved that it started up, and drove to the SF Airport.  The SF Marathon was earlier this morning, and I had some fears that it would make traffic impassable, but no problem whatsoever.  Got to the airport, got on my flight, and that’s where I’m typing up this entry.  I hope it was worth the delay. 

I’m in the US for another 8-9 days, then back to Bangkok.  I’m there for just a night, then heading to Laos for 2 weeks with friend Harsh, formerly of Monitor.  My posts might be coming at odd intervals over the next few weeks – not too sure if I’ll bring my laptop to Laos (and onward to Vietnam), and not too sure what the Internet cafes are like there.  So bear with me and check in every few days.  Over and out.

So it was back to Bangkok, my homebase for Southeast Asia.  Not a bad place to come through frequently, it’s unparalleled globally in its travelers’ infrastructure.  Within 1-2 blocks around the Sukhumvit area, you’ll find loads of internet cafes, travel agencies, contraband dealers, and bars/restaurants.  And more, if you’re looking for that…

Wasn’t sure if I’d be landing in the newish airport, Suvarnabhumi, or the oldie, Don Muang.  When I last fled Thailand, two days ahead of the coup (not that I knew it was coming), Suvarnabhumi was about to come online and Don Muang was headed for retirement.  But the usual cockups occurred and Don Muang was turned into the domestic airport, for the time being.  Anyway, I came into Suvarnabhumi, and was somewhat impressed by the modern design – looks like a gigantic beetle, with a central pod and lots of ‘legs’spanning out from it.  My positive impression quickly faded upon seeing the line at Immigration.  It was so bad I could barely make out the agent at the other end of the hallway.  And despite my best efforts to shift lines and be ready for a sudden lane opening, I was there for well over an hour.  Don Muang was never half that bad, in my experience.  New airports, deteriorating customer experience – how depressing.  They build these new airports to showcase their nation to the world, but travelers find themselves farther from the city, and without any meaningful improvement in lines, service, etc.  There might be a few decent restaurants, but that’s about it.  Exceptions:  Hong Kong and Singapore, whose airports are among the very best in the world.  Lessons to be learned from those two, for certain…

Because I was late from waiting in line, my entire evening became a blur.  Had to get a SIM card and phone friend Bob, as we had planned to meet for dinner/drinks.  Checked into the guesthouse, Soi 11, a good little place.  Went to 7-11, got the SIM card, and managed to sort it out.  Rang Bob, decided to meet chez moi.  Unpacked, grabbed a couple beers to cool off, and brother-in-law Dwax called (after I texted him my new #) to catch up discuss various matters.  Before I knew it, I was sitting at the bar hot, sweaty, filthy, buzzed, and with about 15 minutes to shower and meet Bob.  Did it, I’m glad to report.

Last saw Bob when I left Thailand last September, was great to see his lanky frame coming towards me on Sukhumvit.  Walked over to Little Arabia for some kebabs, salad and pita, was in the mood for the tastes of my (and Bob’s) ancient homeland.  Discussed Bob’s recent trip to Leh, Ladakh – he had read my blog entries of that place and decided to visit with his Delhi-based friend.  And he thoroughly enjoyed the trip – he used the same travel agent there to book some excursions, which were generally good although he did have an annoying ‘misunderstanding’ with Angdu, who drove me around for several days last year.  Anyway, Bob looked refreshed and I think it served him well to see India, the good (Leh/the north), the bad and the ugly (Delhi).

After dinner we went out to the RCA complex, it’s full of bars and restaurants.  Hadn’t been there before – Bob’s a big fan and goes there to check out the talent from time to time.  I don’t blame him – there was plenty of it.  He is seeing someone right now, so was well-behaved – I was too, given my long day of travel.  We knocked back our share of Singhas and stayed out till about 1 p.m.  I collapsed into my bed and slept straight through to 9 a.m. or so.

Read the Bangkok Post the next morning.  Was surprised and pleased to see a column by Maureen Dowd, one of my very favorite reports – she covers the White House for the Washington Post, and does it quite well.  Her specialty – roasting our inept Commander-in-Chief.  Some readers will recall that I celebrated one of her columns last year, in which she lambasted Bush for ‘breaking the Presidency that Daddy and his friends gave him.’ Precisely.  This new column was hard-hitting, as usual.  Can’t recall the contents as it was last week, but I really do need to follow her more closely on the web…

Was very busy after that – it seems that whenever I come to Bangkok, I’m full-on with errands, probably because I save ém up for Bangkok and its excellent infrastructure.  Tried to book a flight to Laos online, but Lao Airline doesn’t make that possible – so went to an agent and did that.  Had to print some flight e-tickets…get some toiletries…transfer some photo files between camera and external hard drive…book a hotel in Phnom Penh, my next destination…and, of course, eat a large lunch.  And it was Friday the 13^th, so I was a bit careful throughout the day…

Went for a run in the early evening, before meeting Bob again.  Sukhumvit Road and its various alleys (soi’s) are unbelievably crowded, but found a decent little park nearby.  Bob later told me that the park was built by Bangkok’s ‘massage parlor king,’ who ran for the Parliament after coming clean and admitting that he bribed cops to leave his dodgy parlors alone.  I think he later resigned his seat, but is a major celebrity in the city and highly admired.  Not sure if he still has his parlors – but I imagine so.  Welcome to Asia!

Decided not to wear my red bandana for the run – in fact, need to get rid of that and get a less inflammatory color.  Although it could prove useful in countries like Vietnam and Laos, where the Reds won their wars…

It was Friday night – time to let my (remaining) hair down.  Not that I spend most nights in front of the TV.  Went over to Bob’s flat to drop off some stuff – I wanted to travel light in Cambodia.  Checked out a ‘fishbowl place’ nearby – send me an email and I will provide further details on these places.  Dropped into a nearby restaurant for drinks/dinner – and while sitting outside a horde of cops showed up and went in.  They were there for the better part of an hour, bothering the management – probably didn’t get bribed on time/sufficiently.  One cop was taking photos – not sure what those will be used for.  They smiled at Bob and I – we obviously posed no threat and I guess a couple balding Jews look innocuous enough.  A baby elephant and its mahout wandered by.  Quite a stink.  We ate a strange fish dish that was dry and a bit dusty – not the best of Thai cuisine.  Also had a raw prawn dish that I should have been more concerned about in the ordering stage – more on that later.

Bob’s friend Jan showed up and we had a couple last beers with him.  I had a 7:40 a.m. flight to Phnom Penh and needed a few hours of sleep.  Finally headed home around 2 a.m., walked by the infamous Nana Plaza where a few lingering bargirls greeted me with the infamous ‘I go wit you?!’  Sorry ladies, keep looking…

Arose feeling rather heinous.  It was 5:20 a.m., had to get to the airport reasonably quickly, in case the lines were bad (a very possible scenario).  Got there…lines were fine.  It was a Saturday morning, that was probably it.  Also noticed that it was Bastille Day – a fitting day to fly into former French Indochina.  Was happy that Thailand did away with the separate airport departure surcharge – I always find that a tawdry affair.  Of course, they didn’t do away with it completely – they just shifted it to the flight ticket, and I think they also increased it – it’s now 700 Baht.  Still, it’s one less thing to deal with at 6 a.m…

I had only been to Cambodia once, very briefly, for a business offsite.  We flew into Siem Reap in the afternoon, saw Angkor Wat for an hour, and then had an all-day meeting the next day.  Then we flew out.  Not particularly enriching from a cultural standpoint.  So I had always wanted to return, to really get a taste of Angkor and also to see the capital, Phnom Penh.  I hadn’t heard much about the latter – but my sense was that it was a pleasant riverside capital with a lingering touch of the old French empire days.  And I heard there were some pretty fun bars.  More than enough reason to visit, methinks.

And reaching further back in time, I recalled that when I was a university student at Tufts, I attended a seminar about the infamous ‘Killing Fields,’ which had spawned a recent movie.  Dith Pran, the star of the movie (he was played by another Cambodian fellow), came to the seminar and spoke to us.  Pran was a translator for reporter Sidney Shanberg and was caught by the Khmer Rouge in PP when it fell in 1975.  He experienced 3 years of hell before escaping into Thailand.  The story he told has stuck with me for years.

During the hourlong flight I reflected, as much as I can at 7:40 a.m., on the touchy Cambodia-US history.  We had supported the French when they took back Cambodia from Japan after WW2…later, years after independence (1953), the Vietnam War spilled over into Cambodia when Nixon and Kissinger authorized heavy bombing of the countryside.  Our boys also supported the deposing of Prince Sihanouk by General Lon Nol, thereby uniting the Prince with the Communist Khmer Rouge.  Our bombing drove peasants into the hands of the Khmer Rouge…our political gambling enabled a feckless military regime a la South Vietnam…and in April 1975 the Khmer Rouge took Phnom Penh.  And within 3 years they had murdered 2 million or so of their countrymen – probably history’s worst case of auto-genocide. 

The Vietnamese invaded on Christmas Day 1978 and threw out the Khmer Rouge, who became guerillas in the jungles on the Thai border.  Vietnam had just cause – the Khmer Rouge had been going over the border and murdering Vietnamese villagers.  So after they won, they installed a puppet government in PP.  And here’s where the US again chose unwisely:  because we hated the Vietnamese government and its Cambodian proxy, we actually backed a coalition of the Khmer Rouge, Prince Sihanouk, and another politician, and recognized that gang as the ‘legitimate’’ Cambodian government, with a seat at the UN.  Incredible – even after the Khmer Rouge’s crimes became well-known, we (and France, and other countries) backed them because we didn’t want the Vietnamese to run Cambodia.  Vietnam turned out to govern well enough, left in 1989 or thereabouts, and continues to influence the country today.  There’s a ‘Vietnam-Cambodia Friendship Memorial’ in town that is not highly admired.  Still, the Vietnamese were the ones who got rid of the Khmer Rouge – admittedly, their intentions were selfish and not altruistic, but still, they deserve thanks for that.

Two thoughts spring from this.  First, we obviously haven’t learned much over the years.  We’re still picking the wrong countries to invade, and/or the wrong ways to do so, and/or the wrong regimes to back in their stead.  That’s a lot of and/or’s, but you get the drift.  Second, despite our sour history, Cambodians love the US and Americans.  I couldn’t stop blushing my entire visit.  Half the country wants to emigrate to the US – reminded me of Burma.  How do we bottle this shit?  And Cambodia (like Burma, but to a higher degree) uses the US Dollar – it has its own currency, the Riel, but dollars proliferate and generally I only got Riels in place of what would be coin change in the States.  I kind of like the lack of coins here – as I’m always losing those in taxis.

Back to the blow-by-blow.  PP Airport was very sleepy – no hourlong wait there, ever.  Got to my guesthouse, literally called ‘Okay Guesthouse.’ Had to wait a while for my room to be cleaned – and the woman did a thorough job.  I was not feeling great – system felt pretty loose.  I blamed the raw prawns in Bangkok and silently cursed my declining barriers against dodgy food.  Recalled that friend Curtis in a recent email re my 40^th birthday told me that after 40, body parts begin to come off warranty.  Knew precisely what he meant.  Couldn’t wait for the cleaning lady…spotted a recently cleaned room, sitting open, and dashed in there to do my business.  Ugh – could have set that one to music.

Slept for a couple hours.  I generally like to hit the ground running in a new city, but I was on low battery and feeling crappy.  The sleep did me well and then I went out sight-seeing.  First order of biz:  the Tuol Sleng Museum, also known as S-21.  Basically, the Auschwitz of Cambodia.  This was a former high school converted by the Khmer Rouge into a brutal torture centre – they’d take detainees there, photograph them, write their ‘biographies’(augmented by confessions obtained by torture, natch), and then ship them to the Choeung Ek Killing Fields 15 km from town. 

Tuol Sleng seems innocuous from the street – the banality of evil, indeed.  But as you go inside the numerous rooms, the smell of death is evident.  There are a few large rooms with exhibits and photos, with the rest being prison cells of various size.  Most have a metal bed, a photo of a bloody/dead prisoner, and an instrument of torture – usually a metal rod or the like.  Chilling stuff. 

The head of S-21 was a Khmer Rouge heavy named Duch, who was a former math teacher.  This is a bad time to make a joke – but I do feel that math teachers round the world should be kept from positions of power, just in case. 

There are houses surrounding Tuol Sleng, with the normal sounds of life emanating.  Probably wasn’t the case during the Khmer Rouge regime – they had immediately emptied the city of people (except themselves) and declared it to be ‘Ýear Zero.’

I thought the most disturbing aspect, by far, was the rows of photos of the detainees/murder victims.  There were thousands of these shown – and I think that all but 15 or so were killed.  Looking at the faces was absolutely compelling – I had to look at every single one. I don’t think it was just morbid curiosity – more a case of trying to connect and give a bit of justice to those who were silenced and exterminated.  Being Jewish wasn’t immaterial, either.

Most of the faces were neutral – just a regular, fairly composed look.  Composed, but there was usually a touch of knowing in there – I imagine that many/most knew their fates.  A few were quite different – a few men were smiling/smirking, a few were defiant.  These were just normal people – the ones who always get the shaft in any ‘revolution.’ I tried to imagine the faces of my friends and neighbors up there – talk about a chilling feeling.  A few of the photos were what I’d expected in advance – true portraits of misery.  I recall a photo of a man reaching out to the camera, as if begging for mercy.  One woman, marked #112, looked out at me through the years and her eyes seemed timeless and undimmed.  They went right through me.  There were many photos of children.  Every photo was different, and I had to look at them all.  I saw one man in the room running a small flower on a photo of a woman.  Was she his mother?  His wife?  The number of stories in that room would never be known or counted.

An upstairs gallery had a series of portraits with stories of survivors and their lost loved ones.  Absolutely heart-rending.  The Khmer Rouge started by killing anyone with outside influences’- if you could speak French, if you worked for the Lon Nol regime, if you had been to Vietnam, etc.  They later turned on their own cadres.  People were taken off without warning and murdered.  I can’t hope to tell the story well or properly, but I do urge you to see the Killing Fields movie if you haven’t, and it pick up a book or two about those awful times.  Email me and I can recommend some.

I mentioned that the Khmer Rouge emptied Phnom Penh when they took power.  There were photos at Tuol Sleng of the largely emptied city.  And for some reason I thought about Rangoon, not so far away.  Rangoon was never emptied, just misgoverned and repressed for decades by the military junta.  And the difference between PP and Rangoon today is enormous – PP is connected to the world, there are ATMs, email, you name it, whereas in Rangoon it feels like the 1950s all over again.  The Khmer Rouge emptied the city – but when they were overthrown by the Vietnamese, PP came back to life.  The Burmese military didn’t move the people – it moved the capital away from Rangoon, to a jungle city near Pyinmana.  Interesting to ponder the differences between these two cities with bizarre and disturbing pasts…

I was pleasantly surprised by PP’s cosmopolitan nature.  All I’d really heard was that there were lots of beggars, and that the river walk was nice.  Fair enough.  I went out my first night and visited the Foreign Correspondent’s Club, the FCC, which was a well-known place during the Indochinese Wars and which is a classic old watering hole/eatery.  Great views of the Tonle Sap and Mekong Rivers.  Moved on to the Elephant Bar at the Raffles Le Royal Hotel.  Was taking advantage of the happy hours at these flash places.  Then had dinner at Friends, which trains street kids and gives its profits to charity.  Sat next to a table of Americans, they were law students spending their summer in PP training Cambodian lawyers.  The Khmer Rouge killed nearly all the educated Cambodians, and even 30 years on there’s a huge shortage.  Chatted for a while about the rightward shift of the US Supreme Court, then got sick of that topic and left to barhop (round two).

Took a moto over to Walkabout.  Lots of working girls there – too annoying.  Moved over to Shanghai Bar.  Much better – infectiously happy place, excellent Italian DJ and plenty of people dancing.  Talked to my bartender – a very cute lass who spoke good English.  I bought her a drink…she came and sat next to me…we danced a bit…we went to sit outside and catch the breeze.  Turns out she comes from a broken home – father is no good – but has pulled herself up in life.  Finished high school, working now, trying to save up for university.  Good girl.  Talked till about midnight, then went over to the infamous Heart of Darkness, one of Southeast Asia’s notorious hotspots.  It’s rumored to be dangerous these days – people have been shot in there and fights often break out, sometimes between rich young local brats (with bodyguards) and foreigners.  Guess who tends to start the fights?  Anyway, I asked around and people thought it was safe enough.  Just had a drink there – was crowded but no problem.  Very noisy, so retreated to Howy’s Bar nearby – apparently that’s what most people end up doing.  Had a couple there, then called it a night.  I was still feeling a bit off from the morning’s bathroom visits…

It was an unusual day, to say the least.  Morning:  Tuol Sleng and its house of horrors.  Evening:  barhopping at colonial villas and modern establishments, with vivacious bargirls and customers.  What a contrast.  I did hear later that many young Cambodians either aren’t aware or don’t believe what went on in the late 70s.  And it has been 30 years, for sure.  Still, the city seems to have recovered, at least on the surface.  But I wanted to know more about peoples’ backstories – what did this fellow go through back then?  Where’s his head today?  Etc…

There’s a pizza place called Happy Herbs.  Notice the lack of apostrophe.  Guess why the pizza (or, more precisely, the eater of the pizza) is so happy.

Next morning, went over to the Killing Fields at Choeung Ek.  I had intended to go there after Tuol Sleng the previous afternoon, but a combination of not feeling well and being depressed by Tuol Sleng made me change my plan.  Took a moto to Choeung Ek.  There’s a monument to the roughly 9,000 victims found there after liberation.  More than 20,000 were actually killed there.  The monument is eerie and gripping – you’ve perhaps seen photos of it.  A glass enclosure is filled with skulls of the victims – many with blunt traumas, indicating they were beaten to death to save precious bullets.  Insane. 

Still, I found Choeung Ek less disturbing than Tuol Sleng, because it was less personal.  No photos, just remains and signs with explanations of what went on there.  But it was profoundly disturbing – as you walk around the excavated pits, there are bits of clothing and even tiny fragments of bones all round you.  You can’t help but walk over some.  The rains bring them up, as do animals.  Really brings tears to your eyes.

I read a book years ago called For the Sake of All Living Things, about that time in Cambodia.  And I recall the grotesque method of killing described therein, in which victims were blindfolded, made to kneel over a pit, while a loudspeaker played music to drown out the cries of death.  The executioners were often enslaved themselves, sometimes eyeless, mutilated teenagers who were barely human by that point.  I won’t get into more details here, it’s just too depressing for me.

That completed my visits to PP’s monuments to the Khmer Rouge atrocities.  Very moving – I won’t forget those places and what I learned anytime soon.

Started reading My Country by Abba Eban.  Eban was the former Israeli Ambassador to the UN, and a real aristocrat/wise man.  He died last year.  I got the book from my former client and fellow Jew Danny Feldman, who gave it to me in Tokyo last week.  Great book thus far – really gets into the details around the founding of the country.

Having had a couple days in PP under my belt, it occurred to me that Cambodia, and Indochina in general, might be the best mix of Asian and European culture in the world.  PP has a few great French restaurants – I had a nice salad nicoise for US$2.50.  I heard about a place with US$5 foie gras – not sure I want cheap foie gras, but the mere fact that you can get it is oddly reassuring.  And the local Khmer food is excellent – like Thai food, less spicy.  Other Asian cuisines – Chinese, Thai, Vietnamese, etc. – are all available too.  Seems to be a bit of everything here.  Again, much more cosmopolitan than I anticipated.

Did the Hash House Harriers run on Sunday.  Met at the train station at 3 p.m., took a lorry out to the countryside.  Started out innocuously enough – then the rain came.  It is rainy season, so that shouldn’t have been a shocker.  The trail deteriorated rapidly – soon we were walking, not running, and my lower body was covered in mud.  Reminded me of the Hash I did last year in Burma.  I recall spending an hour washing my clothes and shoes after that – not my idea of fun.  This Hash was even worse – good people, fun drinking songs, but I dislike being covered in mud (at least when not accompanied by a female wrestler).  Mea culpa, I suppose (though I really blamed the guy who set the trail, he should have known better).  I vowed not to Hash again in monsoon season – let’s see if I follow through on that.

Had a drink that night at Sharky’s Bar.  My bartender wants me to get a US visa for her.  She’d be happy cleaning houses for 6 months, then return.  She makes US$50/month here.  Ugh.

Gotta come back to this – it is hard to reconcile the past darkness of this place with the current feeling of gaiety.  Cambodians are pleasant, happy people, or so it seems.  And half the population is 18 or under – there’s a big reason, I’m sure.  Still, it’s almost like someone rebooted the place and so far the system is running well enough.  I’m sure, though, that by not working here, I’m missing the big pic.

The Khmer Rouge leaders are still awaiting trial.  Long time coming, with lots of money spent thus far.  Many think the $ should be spent on other things, like schools, victims restitution, etc.  Not sure how I feel – I’d personally loved to see the remaining heavies swinging from the end of a rope.  Unfortunately, Pol Pot and a few others have already died and there’ll be no real justice for those scum.

Walked around for a while on Monday.  Saw the colonial-style National Museum.  The Khmer Rouge destroyed the books in there and turned the place into a stable.  Can you believe this shit?

The Royal Palace was very nice – a la its Bangkok counterpart, but roomier and somehow more pleasant.  Much like PP vs. Bangkok – I do find Bangkok a bit overwhelming at times…

Was walking on the sidewalk and saw a roving food vendor put down his pots (which were on a bamboo pole across his shoulders).  He walked over to a wall, dropped his pants, and took a leak right there.  Then he went back to his pots.  Classic.

Lots of great old French architecture around town.  Am surprised the Khmer Rouge didn’t blow it all up.  Well, hypocrisy is part of those sorts of folks – I’m sure they enjoyed hanging out at the FCC and other French houses once they’d cleared the city of normal people.

Had a date with my bartender from Shanghai Bar.  Met her at the FCC…played pool (we split two games).  Went to Metro on the riverwalk – very nice food.  She had a massive steak – I had half of that, plus my food.  Then caught some music at Riverhouse…had a good talk.  Then back to my guesthouse (I won’t kiss and tell).

Did some shopping the next day.  I generally hate this activity, but I feared lasting damage to my stuff from the Hash run, so went first to the ‘Russian Market,’famed for cheapo brand clothes.  Found nothing there – everything was cheesey.  Went to the modern Soprya Mall – it has nothing on Manila’s amazing malls, but I did find a white tanktop, some socks, and a few other things.  One store sold travel accessories, including stuff from Korjo, a great outfit that sounds Japanese but is actually Aussie.  Bought a little rucksack – have long been seeking a very compact bag for short excursions, and have resorted to plastic bags (which never last), a purse-like bag I got in Byron Bay (which looks a bit effeminate when in Asian countries), and so forth.  This new rucksack is perfect and should do the trick.

Checked out the National Museum – good selection of Khmer treasures.  But too much stuff – felt like I was drowning in a sea of half-broken statues.

What else…Cambodians might be the world’s craziest drivers.  They travel in both directions on BOTH SIDES of the street.  If a moto driver wants to take a left, he turns into the leftmost part of the left lane first – despite Cambodia being a right-side driving nation.  Later on, he’ll work his way to the right lane, in due time.  Takes some getting used to.  I saw 2 bad accidents in my 4 days in PP – and heard that Cambodia has the worst record in SE Asia.  That’s not a prize you want to win…

At least 3 different moto drivers offered to take me to illegal shooting ranges.  At these places you can apparently shoot cows, chickens, or paper targets (I heard one place offered targets shaped like Muslim clerics).  I think it’s US$1 per bullet, and you can use AK-47s and other well-known weapons.  Yikes.  I declined, but am curious what the ranges are like.  Unlike most US Presidential candidates, I am not a hunter and would be ecstatic if every gun in the country were seized immediately.  Mitt Romney, you should be ashamed of yourself.

Went to a Chinese restaurant for dinner.  At least, I tried to go there…but it was closed when I arrived.  A fellow on the corner told me the owner killed his wife and was in jail.  And the place would be closed indefinitely.  That was odd news…I was really looking forward to the cold sesame beef noodles.  I know, I know – bad taste.

Went over to Shanghai Bar – wanted to see the cute bartender, and see if she’d be interested in coming to Siem Reap/Angkor with me.  I knew she hadn’t been there yet.  I asked her…she was interested, but feared leaving her little sister alone in their flat for a few days.  Or at least that was the story she told me.  I tried to come up with a few solutions – none worked.  Oh well.  Life is long.  Said bye and visited a few more bars before calling it a night.

Took a bus to Siem Reap next day.  Uneventful.  Read a book about the Khmer Rouge regime called First They Killed My Father.  Deeply disturbing – you really couldn’t dream this stuff up.  Highly recommended.

Passed a vegetable stand – a customer stood there picking his nose, then going through the veggies.  Nice.

Checked into the Two Dragons Guesthouse, run by Gordon, who writes the excellent and helpful Tales of Asia website/blog.  Unfortunately, he’s in Bangkok this week so won’t get to meet him.

Siem Reap is a nice little town, best known for being the access point to Angkor Wat and other temples.  I visited a slew of them earlier today, but am fried so will post those next week.  I’ll also post some PP photos, I’m too tired to dig them out right now.  Hope this entry made sense – welcome any feedback.  Over and out.

The ways in which Tokyo has changed in the past couple of years is quite something. A slew of international 5-star hotels have opened up – Mandarin, Ritz, Conrad, Grand Hyatt, and Peninsula (September) – and it seems that loads of gaijin are coming to town and paying the US$500-600/night fares. They’re finally getting their act together at the airport – I mentioned last week that almost all of the Immigration counters were staffed when I flew in. And there’s a lot more evident bling around Tokyo these days – I spotted two Hummers – one fully customized and pimp-ready – in a parking lot near Roppongi. In the ‘old days’ those weren’t around – you might see a candy-apple red Ferrari or the odd Lambo, but the typical auto was a boxy black sedan. Tokyo seems to be taking on a bit of Miami – not sure I’m happy about that.

Another thing I noticed is the rapid graying of the population. Tokyo isn’t too bad – but when you venture out to the countryside, as I did last weekend, it’s like seeing an ad for osteoporosis medication – the ‘before’ picture. I’m a lot more patient these days than I used to be, but I do find it aggravating to wait 15 minutes to get off a bus because a couple 90-year-old obaa-sans (grandmas) are pouring themselves down the steps. I write these words knowing full well that the tables will be turned on me in oh, say, 40-50 years…

On Thursday night I went out for dinner with Nishitani-san, who heads the Monitor Tokyo office. He and I used to be co-heads, and now that I’ve moved on he’s stepped up ably, as expected. He took me, and another colleague, Alberto, to a brilliant restaurant where we had our own little tatami mat room. Beer and sake flowed immediately and the meal ran well over 10 courses – exquisite little dishes, lots of seafood, with seasonal flavors. Kaiseki style, I suppose. We had good fun catching up and trading gossip about Monitor, Japan, the States, and baseball. Matsuzaka-san’s solid play for the Red Sox is making the Japanese pretty happy and I think it’s great for Boston to have a real Japanese connection, beyond the fine collection of Japanese paintings at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. Coincidentally, I heard that the MFA has an Edward Hopper exhibition running – I wouldn’t mind seeing that when in Boston in early August. Someone please remind me to go do that…

After dinner I had some emergy, so went to see Rob my bartender friend at Finn McCool’s and talk about weekend plans. More on that soon. Then I tracked down another bartender friend, the infamous Frenchman Cyril, who’s now tending bar (and God knows what else) at a weird ‘entertainment space’ in Roppongi. As he and I talked, a collection of oddballs wandered about – one Japanese fellow had on huge sunglasses and a porkpie hat. In the right context, anything can be fashionable…

Cyril used to manage the Hobgoblin Pub, my local back in the day. He then built and ran a brand-new pub called The Baron, in Nishi-Azabu. That seemed a good gig…but then Cyril ran into some marital issues and while he still turns up at The Baron, it’s not his place anymore. But he seems reasonably content and composed these days – good for him.

It strikes me that I’m very very busy this trip to Japan. I had thought that 10 days would be sufficient, but I’ve been booked every day lunch/dinner/drinks, and I think next time I’ll stick around for 3-4 weeks. That means, of course, that I’ll have to swallow at least 2-3 US$100 laundry bills – the Grand Hyatt nailed me with one, and I narrowly avoided having to do another load at the far more modest APA Hotel in Akasaka. Seems to be some kind of set price for hotel laundry here – washing a pair of trousers is 1,470 Yen – nearly US$12. That’s about two full loads of washing in the Philippines…

Part of the problem with being so busy is that I have little time to wander the streets and be amazed at the quirky bits of Japanese life. I have fond memories of getting myself lost in Harajuku or Ebisu and findings the oddest little shops, museums, bars, etc. This trip is much more purposeful and while it’s great seeing friends, I should have allotted a few days to aimless meanderings…

Back to weekend plans - when last weekend rolled around, the gameplan was to hook up with Rob and head down to Shimoda on the Izu Peninsula. It was his idea, and he had even mentioned bringing a couple females along – hopefully not both for him. That all sounded great so I was in. I hadn’t ever been to Izu and it was on my hit list. All systems were go. Then Rob got hit with a surprise local ward tax bill, to the tune of 800,000 Yen or so – that’s about US$6,500. Enjoy your weekend, sir. That removed Rob from the ranks of the fiscally liquid and left me temporarily high and dry. But I had armed myself with a backup plan, and had actually got that going before I knew for sure that Rob was screwed.

I had visited a small city called Hida Takayama 2-3 times over the years. It’s a few hours by bus or train from Tokyo, and it’s a real slice of ‘old Japan.’ And I don’t just mean the osteoporotic women shuffling around. The old section of town has some incredible old wooden houses, the forests surrounding the town are pristine and if not virgin, then a nice replacement, and the town hosts a popular festival twice a year with massive, intricate floats. The last time I visited Takayama was in 2003, with my girlfriend from Nagoya, and I had wanted to return since then. So I turned the Izu debacle into lemonade and decided to go back to Takayama.

I got some help making the bookings from a friend at Monitor – that was a huge help. Took the bus from Shinjuku – I had taken it years ago, but Shinjuku is a city unto itself and very confusing, so even with a map it took me 45 minutes to find the station. A bit of Japanese hell. Once I found it, I had some time so went for a nice curry tonkatsu (deep-fried pork – don’t knock it till you’ve tried it) lunch. And when I paid with a large bill – 10,000 Yen – the cashier not only didn’t complain, but she counted my change 3 times to be sure it was correct. Japanese heaven, indeed.

Got on the bus and had some time, finally, to reflect. It was July 6th. That’s always a tough day for my family – my mother died on July 6, 1995. Twelve years ago. Every July 6th, without fail, I experience a vast range of emotions – sadness, of course, and usually some tears; satisfaction or something like that, because I think my mother would be happy that things have turned out well for the rest of us; and anger, that she was taken from us at a relatively young age. I had brought a bunch of books and magazines to read on the bus; I didn’t get through much.

The Japanese countryside was soothing – near the coast it’s a concrete jungle, with nary an undeveloped stretch from Tokyo down the east coast of Honshu Island. But inland it’s a very different story – the old houses are simply classics, with gassho-zukiri (hands clasped in prayer) roofs, tidy little square rice paddy plots, tiny bridges over little creeks, and lots of forests. Japan has maintained 70% of its forest cover – it was well on its way to destroying its environment hundreds of years ago, but someone got wise and reversed the process. I think that Japan was held up as a success story in the Jared Diamond book Collapse, if my memory serves me.

As we neared Takayama I noticed a street sign – ‘Nippon Alps Salad Road.’ Huh?

I was the only foreigner on the bus. There were lots in Tokyo, but not now. And that was OK with me. I’m not hanging around Asia hoping to run into New Yorkers or Londoners. It occurs to me that perhaps the single largest US export is overweight biz execs – you see ‘em all round Tokyo, particularly in the lobby of the Imperial Hotel, and I had met my fill in Manila as well…

Reached Takayama – walked up the wonderfully-named Kokubunji-Dori, up to the inn I had booked. This place is the Rickshaw Inn, and is one of my favorite places to stay in the world. It’s probably the top reason I love Hida Takayama. The Rickshaw has all sorts of rooms – Japanese and Western, singles and larger – and always has a warm ambience that you just don’t get at the Best Western. I checked in, took a shower, and went out to enjoy the modest nightlife of Takayama.

Started out at an izakaya (eating bar) called Murasaki – ‘purple’ in Japanese. I’ve had some fun times there over the years, usually you’re adopted by locals who want to chat with a gaijin. And this time I met some local students who were half-cocked already and wanting to practice their English. Stayed there for an hour, trying various dishes (there’s nothing quite like kara-age – Japanese fried chicken) and cocktails. Then walked over to the Red Hill Pub, another great place. The first time I popped in there, in 2000 or so, there was a guitar hanging on the wall, and after a few beers I was nudged into taking it down and playing ‘When the Saints Come Marching In,’ perhaps the simplest guitar tune. Simple, but catchy, and the denizens of Red Hill seemed to love it. They do like their jazz in Japan.

This time the pub was a bit quiet, but that was all right. The bartender/proprietor is a funny, lively woman – she and her partner own a hair salon next door called Red Head – and their pub is Red Hill. Close enough. Sat there for a few beers, then took off as I wanted to check out one more place, a reggae-ish joint called Bagus. That was also good fun – the young guy tending the bar was curious about my travels and seemed eager to tag along. We were chatting, then my rental mobilephone rang. My sister was returning my earlier call – we try to talk on July 6th every year, as it’s important to share our thoughts and try to reflect together. We talked for a half hour or so, and I think we both felt better after that.

Then I motored back to the inn – they threaten to lock the front door at midnight, and it was five past. Got there, door was open, and my key was on the front desk. Whew. That’s my only issue with the Rickshaw, it feels a bit like a Swiss youth hostel. Let adults be adults and give us a front-door key. But Takayama is a quiet enough place and if you go out around 8, you’ve generally had enough by midnight.

As I had walked to the inn I went by a dark building that seemed familiar. During my first trip to Takayama, 6-7 years earlier, I had gone there for dinner – it was a Swiss restaurant run by a personable Swiss expat named Marc, who had married a local girl and had named his place ‘Marc’s Bellgin Bells’ (don’t ask me). And it had excellent wine and fondue – Marc was a fine chef. As I sat at my table I was motivated enough to jot down a few haiku – that doesn’t happen too often.

By the time I returned to Takayama, a year or two later, it had closed, and I had heard that Marc had experience some difficulties – no specifics offered. Now I was back again, and the building was still standing, along with its iconic little sign: ‘I found my heart in Takayama.’ Five years, and the place was still there, the only difference was that the door was shut and locked. Seemed to be a light on upstairs – did Marc and his Japanese family live there? I hope things are OK with them, in any event.

The next day I was reading a newspaper story about Tony Blair stepping down, and his legacy. Was his loyalty to the US warranted, or misplaced? Time will tell on that. But it occurred to me that there have been instances when countries that opposed the US have emerged stronger from the struggle. Japan and Germany are the obvious examples…but even Great Britain came out of the American Revolution in solid shape, and in part because it decided to let its American colonies go it was soon able to recover, repair its finances, and go on to dominate the subcontinent and oceans for many, many years. I’m not saying that opposing the US is the way to go, particularly these days – but I did think it was interesting to ponder those cases…

I somehow doubt that George W. Bush does much of that sort of pondering…but I have heard that he’s now reading books. That’s nice. I imagine that his reading list is the standard fare designed to stiffen the resolve of the ‘wartime leader’ – so a steady diet of Churchill, FDR, maybe a bit of Lyndon Johnson, etc. Whatever he’s reading, it doesn’t seem to have enlightened his current posture, which centers around staying the course without using that term anymore. We’ve got another 18 months of this – with a steady trickle of Republican defections that may ‘alter the course’ but not ‘fix the course.’

I think the optimal outcome is for Bush to be handcuffed by Congress, and allowed to do no further harm. I tried the other day to come up with one positive aspect of this Administration, and the only thing that came to mind was the increase in aid for HIV/AIDS in Africa. Sure, there’s No Child Left Behind – but I’ve heard that’s been a stop-and-start affair. And the economy has done nicely in the past 4-5 years – but I don’t think the Bush tax cuts were the driver (my $300 tax refund didn’t exactly change my behavior), it’s more likely that 1) the military spending has primed the pump, and 2) the near-complete focus on the ‘war on terror’ (harrumph) has taken the Administration’s attention away from monkeying with the economy – and that’s a positive in my book. I can only hope that the deficits narrow and that we can somehow return to the days of actual surpluses…

The only decent people Bush picked have been Paulson in Treasury (Bush’s 3rd Treasury Secretary – the first two were clowns) and Gates in Defence – the latter forced on him by his daddy. The rest have been a bunch of hacks and an embarrassment to their offices and to the nation. Contrast them with Sarkozy’s selections in France – he chose Bernard Kouchner of Medecins Sans Frontieres as his Foreign Minister. Now there’s an inspired choice. Where are ours?

I spent Saturday morning walking around the old section, called Sanmachi Suji, and trying to escape the summer humidity. Spent an hour in the hall where they store some of the festival floats. The floats, as I mentioned, are incredibly intricate, with gold plating and amazing wood carvings. Some of them are worth well over US$10 million. I think there are a total of 20 or so floats, some are used in the spring festival, some in the fall. Here’s a shot of 4 of them now on display in the hall:

I’m sitting in a room at the Daiichi Hotel Tokyo Shimbashi, writing this entry. It strikes me that I’m experiencing a sort of symmetry right now – I spent countless days and nights at this hotel while working for Monitor, and many of those days and nights revolved around banging out emails and documents on my laptop, at the nearby office and in this very hotel. I’m wearing the hotel’s yukata – a light robe – and am under some time pressure, as I’m due to swing by the firm’s new Tokyo office later today and see some ex-colleagues there. So this entry might be even more poorly written than usual…

Allow me to back up. When I left you last week, my 40^th birthday was nigh. Now you know that I survived the experience. Friend/financial advisor Yu Hin flew down from Hong Kong to help me celebrate – we got going a day early and didn’t really stop till a couple days after. I had anticipated some mayhem during his visit, so had rushed to finalize plans for my Japan trip before he got to Manila. Yu Hin got in on Thursday, and we went out to some nightclubs that evening. In the cab I noticed an establishment that always makes me laugh – it’s called Zeus, and the sub-title is ‘where gods & goddesses meet.’ Haven’t been there, but must check it out next visit.

We were in a club called Blush when midnight struck – and it was June 29^th, my (40^th) birthday. The party wasn’t till that night, but Yu Hin made sure that I was aware of the hour and that I was now 40. I pointed out that I was born at 10 p.m. on June 29, 1967, so I was still 39 for a few more hours. That argument didn’t seem to hold much water and we moved on to other topics – namely, which bar we should hit next. On our way out the door I heard a familiar song – it was a Muzaked, bastardized version of the Hava Nagila. Unbelievable. Jewish folk songs stripped of lyrics and put to play in a Manila nightclub. I felt like picking up a chair (with a girl in it) and dancing around for a while. But I didn’t – the bouncers had guns.

My birthday was spent in fairly typical fashion; it was pretty much a survey of the stuff I tend to do these days – a bit of sightseeing, leisurely meals, semi-annoying tasks, travel planning, and rest. Had a coffee…met up with Yu Hin and we went to a dive shop in Makati City so I could get a couple things…had a very nice lunch at a seafood place in the Greenbelt Mall…took a cab to the Coconut Palace, one of Imelda Marcos’s bizarre projects. She built it to commemorate the visit of the Pope in the early 70s – at a cost of approx. US$30 mill. The pope found out about this, cancelled his visit, and told her she should have spent the money on drinking water for the poor. The building still stands, it’s surprisingly well-maintained, and is used for weddings etc. Many of the fabrics and such inside the place are made from coconut shells and fibers, hence the name. En route there our cab ran out of gas – a first for me. We hailed another and it was no big deal. Yu Hin found out pretty fast that you need patience to get by in the RP…

After the Coconut Palace, we went for a massage at the great little place near my hotel. Walked out of there an hour later feeling groggy but good. Went back to the hotel…read the paper…took a short nap…didn’t bother to go for a run, I should get a free pass on my birthday I thought. Then went and got Yu Hin at his hotel and we went to my favorite Manila restaurant, Casa Armas, for a birthday feast. I know the staff there pretty well by now, they were very welcoming and sent over a glass of wine and a small cake. We ordered a slew of tapas dishes and split those. Worked through a bottle of Rioja in short order. The 3-person band, which serenades the different tables, came over to us and wished me happy birthday – and then asked me what I wanted to hear. I came up with a few I thought they’d handle well – Take Five by Dave Brubeck, Girl from Ipanema, Gipsy Kings (the guitarist did a brilliant job on his acoustic piece), and Buena Vista Social Club. Not what they usually play – I think most requests run the Top 40 gamut. But they seemed to enjoy playing my requests and they stuck by our table for a good half-hour.

Brother-in-law Dave called at one point and I ducked outside to chat. Dave turns 40 in a few months and we discussed upcoming fun age-related procedures like colonoscopies. Ugh.

Finished the feast – excellent, as always – then walked over to Ciboney Bar, where the party was to be held. Managed to bring my camera, and got some decent pics. See below for one. Managed to fill a large table with friends and acquaintances – David from Monitor came by with his wife Cai, and a couple other Monitorites working in Manila joined us. And Johnny, the bar owner who’s a lovely guy, had a young woman named Princess (really) sit next to me. That was good fun – thanks Johnny!

Sat around the table, drank, told old stories and shared some gossip. Probably one of the better birthdays I’ve had – with some good friends, nothing hanging over my head, feeling free. We stayed out till around 4 a.m. and then threw in the towel. Last drinks were at Sam’s Bar, not far from Ciboney. Didn’t feel any different having crossed the 40^th parallel, so to speak – and was glad about that.

Next day, firmly in 40^th territory, went over to Chinatown to show Yu Hin the fruits of his people’s legacy. Manila’s Chinatown isn’t that large, and the heart is just one street – Ongpin Street – lined with the usual teashops, fireworks stores, gold/jewelry joints, etc. We had tea and dimsum and laughed about the irony of a Jew showing a HKG Chinese around Manila’s Chinatown. I love it.

I’ve known Yu Hin for 8 years now, we met in 1999 on a project in Tokyo and he was just a kid then. It’s been interesting to observe his growth over the years – he’s much more confident and sure of himself, and the guy really knows his food and wine. In Casa Armas he ordered the Rioja and had a good grasp of the extensive wine list. I was impressed.

That night, went over to Quezon City. Quezon used to be the country’s capital – it’s where the legislature sits. I don’t remember when they moved the capital to Manila, but anyway Manila was always the de facto capital, Quezon is a relatively small place. But quite nice – much cleaner and more orderly than Manila proper, and lots of bars and restaurants there. We had dinner, hit a couple bars and clubs, then headed back to Malate. We were both beat from the past couple days and needed some sleep. And we both had early bells the next morning – Yu Hin had to fly back to HKG, I was going to the island of Corregidor to see the WW2 sights there. Said bye to Yu Hin – not sure when we’ll next meet, but we seem to get together every 6-12 months somewhere in Asia. I imagine that trend will carry on.

Was still groggy at 5:30 a.m. when my alarm went off. I don’t use an alarm often these days, so it was a bit of a shock. Got my stuff together, went out and hailed a cab. The ferry terminal wasn’t far off, but it turned out that Roxas Blvd. was closed for a race and it was challenging to get around it. I didn’t know there were so many Pinoy runners – where have they all been hiding?

The ferry to Corregidor took about an hour. Corregidor was the final redoubt of the US and Filipino troops in early 1942, and finally surrendered to the Japanese after holding out for months. Here’s where the island sits – Corregidor is the tadpole-shaped island:

Easy place to shell from the Bataan Peninsula, which the Japanese took and leveraged fully. But the defense of Corregidor slowed down the Japanese advance in the Pacific and threw a monkey wrench in their planning – they had expected to conquer the RP in a month or so, but it took 3-4. Quite something. On the ferry they played clips of the war and General MacArthur, who at one point served directly in the RP’s Army and is incredibly popular here, even today.

You may recall that last year I visited the island of Leyte, where in 1945 MacArthur and the US Army returned to the RP, fulfilling its vow from 1942. So a visit to Corregidor was a nice bookend – I was able to see our darkest hour, when we surrendered (although there was no shame – the troops held out impressively). The tour was well done – the tour company, Sun Cruises, does it every day and they’ve got it down pat. Went into a tunnel called Malinta, where the army retreated and spent its final days. Eerie place – you can almost sense the ghosts there. Here’s the entrance:

Inside there are collapsed tunnelways – in 1945 more than 3,000 Japanese soldiers killed themselves by blowing up the place. The Allies had covered all 4 tunnel exits and the Japanese took their own lives after about a week of being trapped in there.

The island has a few other sights as well. Lots of huge mortars/guns all round, many with damage from Japanese shelling. The old barracks are still there, but badly damaged from the bombs. There’s also a cool little Museum of the Pacific War with old photos and correspondence from MacArthur and other key players. All in all, a good day – glad I went.

Went out that night, despite being bone-tired. It was my final night in the RP, after almost 5 months there. Was feeling slightly sad about leaving, although was looking forward to the luxuries of Japan. Went to Casa Armas for one more meal – they bought me a farewell glass of wine and I left the place with a very warm feeling. Just from the wine? Methinks not.

Went to Mogambo Bar in Makati City, played jenga with the bargirls and won every game. For some reason I’m an excellent jenga player – the final game was hard-fought and the stick-pile had to be two feet high, very wobbly. There seemed to be no options for stick removal – but I found the final removeable piece and won the game. Quite dramatic. I think the girls were getting pissed at losing – I probably should have thrown one game. I did pretend to have the shakes at one point – and told them the tale of Shakey’s Pizza, a chain so named because the American GI who founded it had malaria and associated shakes. The girls found that pretty funny. But I kept winning and was glad about that – it was my last night there and I felt like doing what I wanted. You can probably tell that turning 40 has not radically boosted my maturity levels…

Got up the next morning, packed and headed to the airport. No dramas, thin