departure from normalcy

After a few days in Hanoi and an overnight train journey, we’re now in Hoi An, an UNESCO World Heritage city in southern Vietnam. The town was spared from the American war, and is a charming old Portuguese port city where every building is painted pink or yellow.

Yesterday we went to the beach, and were immediately attacked by the vendors. A group of about 8 middle-aged women patrolled the beach in their straw hats (see Exhibit A), hawking cold drinks, snacks, and soccer balls to tourists busy working on their sunburns. Their sales pitch is strong- build rapport (“oh where you from?”) and then make tourist commit to only buy from them all day long. In an effort to appease their buoyant sales tactics, we professed our loyalty to all of them.

When we actually got thirsty and wanted a nice cold beverage, the women had assembled in circle on the beach. Like a group of hens.

JR: “Who are we supposed to buy from? They’re all sitting over there together.”

Me: “Oh shit. Well, there’s only one way to determine. Foot race.”

And that’s exactly what happened. JR drew two lines in the sand and moments later the women were clamoring at the start line. We had to start over after “Linda”, age 58, cheated and tried to get a head start on the flock.

It was hilarious. Afterwards the winner challenged JR, and smoked him. Photos (from a crappy disposable camera) will be available shortly.

Much to my mother’s chagrin (which she will discover while reading this), I’m now trying to convince JR to take a 3-day motorbike trip with a man named Tran. Tran Tran Tran! Wish me luck.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/95156302@N00/?saved=1

Over the past few months, an estimated 100 people have told us how incredible Laos is. And after spending a few weeks here, the ‘Land of a Million Elephants’ lives up to the hype.

We started out in Vientiane, the capital. Planned to spend 3 days…stayed for 6. Monks, baguettes, cool old cars and BeerLao: these are the images conjured up by mention of this city on the Mekong. Influence from the French colonial days is still strong, as many of the locals speak English with a French accent. It’s a town where none of the buildings are over 4 stories, and malls and cinemas don’t exist. Free time in this city is spent lounging around in cafes or drinking BeerLao by the Mekong.

A few hours from Vientiane is a touristy mountain town on a river, Vang Vieng. The place is full of hippy backpackers, and a few non-hippies. Vang Vieng’s main draw is the river, which cuts through limestone cliffs and ushers along kayakers and tubers from one riverside bar to the next. All of the bars have 30 foot high rope swings hanging over the water–with yelping sunburned tourists hanging off and belly-smacking into the water. Read the rest of this entry »

Location: a dark but charming street in Luang Prabang, Laos
Time: Sep 30, 7:10pm
Scene: I was leisurely riding back to my guesthouse on a blue 1-speed bike built for a midget, complete with a basket and a ding-ding bell. JR was following. My huge 15 lb tote-bag was in the basket…with my wallet, camera, 4 books (including my Sudoku!), a Chanel lipgloss, 2 bracelets I just bought, a shirt and a pashmina I bought in Nepal. And a new journal with a good 20 pages of writing. A man was parked on a motorbike, which he kick-started just as I passed. He sped up next to me, snatched the bag out of my basket, and sped off.
Aftermath: I started screaming bloody murder “PURSE STEALER! THAT MAN STOLE MY PURSE”, JR was shouting “YOU F’R!” and we both followed in hot pursuit, on our 1-speed childsize bikes. (Just take a moment to imagine a pedaling fury chasing a man on a motorcycle. It was like Dennis the Menace vs. Evil Knievel) I pulled over at a corner store, loudly and dramatically crying. A brave civilian with a long black pony tail drove up on a motorbike and told me to hop on, and we made a brief attempt at catching the motorbike thief ourselves, but we lost him. She spoke English and translated at the police station, then brought me home. Some kids (alerted by my loud white woman screams) had run out to the street and managed to get some numbers of the license plate.

We’ve offered a $50 reward, but nothing has turned up yet. I’ve also employed two techniques to entice the police: flirtation and bribery. They said the “investigation” will take “a few weeks” and that they’ll email me if anything turns up.

Bastard.

Signed,
Brooke
Routine Crime Victim

Siem Reap, Cambodia (Angkor Wat)

We had two options: a 14-hour bus journey from Bangkok to Siem Reap in Cambodia, or a $200 flight. For many of you reading this, it sounds like a no-brainer. But frankly $400 goes a long way in SE Asia, and we’re not in any hurry. Once we found out half of the bus journey would not involve aircon or paved roads, shelling out the cash was the only sane option.

We arrived in Siem Reap Sunday afternoon, calm and rested as opposed to sweaty, swearing and irate. Thanks to the French who colonised Cambodia from 1863 to 1953, the architecture and open-air cafes of this little town made us realize what we were missing in Bangkok. Its adorable, charming and much more than we expected.

Monday morning we set out for Angkor Wat in the tuk-tuk of a local 32-year old named Sokhorn. His English was impressive, and he drove us through the countryside to some of the distant untouristed temple ruins. Some of these ancient sites were empty, and we were left to explore mazes of stone structures built mostly in the 11-13th centuries alone.

The second day we visited Angkor Wat, the famous Tomb Raider temple and some others with our guide Sam, a 47-year old former school teacher. He was only 11 when the Khymer Rouge fighting began. Read the rest of this entry »

Bangkok isn’t charming. Or quaint. Or cute. Tree-lined boulevards and outdoor cafes translate to busted-up sidewalks and streetfood stands with red plastic chairs. But yet, JR and I are both border-line obsessed with this city.

Its a city “trying” to shed its image for debauchery, that has an inferiority complex. Perhaps some of the best malls, cinemas, restuarants, and hotels in the world–through the grit and the dirty underbelly lies some serious glam.

During our six months we met so many great people, made a few really good friends and spent our free time discovering the nooks and crannies where the charm of BKK exists. I can’t imagine how I’ll survive without som tom, Longcheu’s bean curd or mango sticky rice…but I guess I’ll manage. And part of the fun of living in Bangkok is complaining about it. Its a national pasttime-bitching-about traffic, pollution, corruption, the fat white male sex tourists, etc. Its kind of fun, everyone reveling in misery together. It creates a sense of solidarity.

Leaving Bangkok to continue on traveling was not easy. Typically the days leading up to a big trip I feel like an eight-year old on Christmas Eve; but prying myself out of this city was a chore.

We might be back.

www.flickr.com More of Bpearson’s photos tagged with Bangkok2

Everyday at 6pm, the Thai royal anthem is broadcast throughout every Skytrain and Metro station. And everyday at 6pm, Bangkok comes to a halt. I was walking through the turnstyle yesterday at 6, the song came on, and everyone froze. It was as if someone had hit the pause button. Talking ceased. Walking ceased. Cell phones stopped ringing. It felt like a musical come to life, choreographed and precise.

And then the song ended, and the walking, yapping, and cell-phoning continued. Does that moment cause people to pause, slow down, and relax? Or is it another programmed part of the day, one that earns no further mind-activity than applying deodorant? I’m not sure if this moment of National solitude would fly in the US. Asking someone in an El station in Chicago to stop for a moment for the National Anthem might get you punched in the face, or at least a dirty look and an expletive. (or a “F*#! George Bush man”, which is a valiant point)

But Thailand is full of idiosyncrasies that wouldn’t fly in the US. A few weeks ago I saw a man walking down the street selling sponges. Not Elaine-sponges, just the regular kitchen variety. The odd thing was, he was carrying two enormous garbage bags full of them, in the event a customer was interested in buying 6,000 sponges. At first I didn’t even think twice, then I realized, “Wait. That is freaking bizarre.” Imagine walking down the street in Anytown USA with 6,000 sponges in tow.

The other night an 80-year old man at McDonalds struck up a conversation and asked for our phone number so we can go out for dinner. When is the last time an 80-year old scored your digits amidst quarterpounders and McChickens?

I’m trying to think of other weird things. Hmm. Well I just hung up the phone with a tarot card reader specializing in predicting the futures of gay men, that’s sorta weird. And I ate a delicious dish today which had fermented pork as an ingredient.

p.s. I wrote this post a month ago…but never clicked publish. Oops. More updates to follow soon…we’re leaving Bangkok on a jet plane in 27 minutes…tear. Tear.

To whom it may concern:

Several weeks ago, I put a request in for an update on your “blog”. I was
assured that an update was pending and that everything would be “fine”.
Unfortunately, this was not the case, and you seem to be in limbo about the
entire update “system”.

I appreciate your timely response, and look forward to assuaging the
situation without resorting to other means.

Warm Regards,
Tommy

Dear Tommy,
Cool it. It’s not easy living with the pressure of constantly being responsible for whipping up some witty and entertaining “foreign” story. So I’ll try my best to satisfy your demands.

JR continues to play the role of the charming popular first grade teacher. I recently found a “Goofy” DVD in his bag, held it in the air like a dirty porn, and demanded to know what it was. The contraband was used to distract third graders from running around and reeking havoc during an afterschool program.

Meanwhile I’ve been leading the glitzy life of a magazine intern. My monthly salary is a glamorous $54, but the perks have been sweet. There have been a few 10-course meals, lunches and bar nights…all for free in the name of research. This food writing business has ultimately resulted into my return to the treadmill, and my number earning a spot on the speed dial list of a wild Indian chef with sights on a Michelin star.

In other news, Read the rest of this entry »

After some offensive emails regarding my recent writing hiatus, perhaps its time to indulge readers in another sexy and riveting tale. Except, we haven’t been up to much. We’ve again extended our stay in Bangkok…a week turned into two months, and two months has given way to another three…and we’ll now be here until mid-September. We have jobs and look forward to weekends, yet again. (just couldn’t resist)

JR is now known as “ Teachuh JR” in his place of employment, a third grade classroom. Every morning his students greet him with “Good Moh-ning Teachuh JR” and he must respond “Good Morning Class”. He wears crisp button down shirts with a tie, dress pants and cheap shoes with Dr. Scholl’s inserts. He looks really cute when he leaves every morning, but then returns very crumpled and dripping in sweat from the oppressive afternoon humidity. (and complaining of the cheap footwear)

He really enjoys it, and is famous for being extremely enthusiastic, loud and wildly expressive in the classroom. Most Thais have nicknames, Read the rest of this entry »

Last night we went to an Irish pub in our neighborhood. To my left was an impeccably dressed and red-lip-sticked Thai woman in her late fifties. She was a prostitute. To JR’s right was an overweight American man with a stuffed bra and a pixie-cut wig who introduced himself as “Karen”. Before long a Yugoslavian pilot joined in, and we had a party. A transvestite, a prostitute, a pilot and us. We clanged our pints of Singha beer and had conversations spanning normal bar banter, politics family & traveling. The Thai woman has decided to adopt me as her daughter, and the transvestite admitted to JR that his kids don’t speak to him. This is why Bangkok is such a special place. Where else in the world would this hodge podge group of individuals gather in the same place, a place that accepted all of them equally? (Granted, I did secretly wince when saying “So Karen, where are you from”…I wanted to adjust the socks in his bra like my mother corrects crooked picture frames in doctor’s offices)

Bangkok is a savvy modern metropolis with an old village surviving in the alleyways. Our apartment building is amongst tall office buildings, malls and entertainment options to suit the tastes of both the refined and smutty. The surrounding labyrinth of alleyways transforms into a bustling market during the work week, creating an aromatic cloud of hot noodle soups and curries. We weren’t planning on settling down anywhere, Read the rest of this entry »

Fanatically clean, ultra modern and easy to navigate; Singapore is what many cities aspire to be. Strong economy, low crime and an extremely polite and highly educated population, Singapore is the valedictorian and the homecoming queen (who doesn’t chew gum). She’s even friends with all the cliques (religious groups) and manages to get The Stoners and The Preps to hang out in peace.

Everyone we met in Singapore spoke perfect english. There’s frankly nothing better than being able to ask any average Joe where the nearest McDonalds is in my native tongue. (I’m kidding. We don’t go to places like that, ahem) But traveling in a city who speaks your language allows a much greater dialogue to transpire, which greatly contributed to our four day stay.

Aside from a few museums and a movie at the Singapore Film Festival, the majority of our time was spent roaming the streets in pursuit of a shared hobby: eating. If your idea of culinary adventure is dipping your nuggets in BBQ mixed with sweet & sour, you may not be a candidate for this city. Singapore eats, and eats and eats. These people eat so much that I was suspicious of a national habit of bulimia.

Asian cities are known for their street food stalls, but Mr. Clean Singapore moved his inside a few years back. Now dotted around the city are complexes of 2-3 story strip-mall style food stalls with seating filling the aisles. Basically stand alone mall food courts. We ate every single meal at these stalls, partly because they’re fun and partly to keep us away from the incredible posh expensivo restaurants that kept whispering sweet nothings in our ears and taunting our stomachs.

We dove in headfirst, Read the rest of this entry »