Hoi An – a slower pace

Flew from Nha Trang to Danang, where we were met by a car and driver to take us to our new hotel. It is about a 45 minute ride from Danang to Hoi An, and I guess that when you spend the big bucks for your accommodation (35 big ones), you can expect this type of service. One small downside – I think that they shipped the mattress from the Green Hotel to our new digs. Actually managed a reasonable sleep in spite of the “super, extra firmness”. Does this mean that I am going native?

Liked Hoi An a lot. A much smaller community with a much slower pace, Hoi An is situated about 4kms from China Beach, and if you are looking for endless miles of white sand, you can find it here. The town, itself, is situated on the banks of the Thu Bon River, near where it empties into the South China Sea. It has remained active, as an important trading seaport, from about the 2^nd century, and there are a number of structures that date back three or four hundred years. This activity from world traders of the day, helped to develop skilled artisans in pottery, silks, weaving and wood carving, and the “old town”, with its narrow, twisty streets, has many shops displaying these wares. There is also no shortage of good eateries, and a market with fresh fruits and vegetables. I have become a big fan of a local orange, which should really be called a green. It has a skin of forest green color, and a flesh of bright orange. It is also very tasty, and very juicy — what’s not to like?

Local artisans of a more contemporary nature would have to include the tailors. Hoi An is filled with shops that will, for a very small fee, make you a shirt, trousers, a suit or dress, and have it completed in as little as four hours. There are stacks of different materials, in most any color, available for your choosing. I personally took a pass on this as tailor made blue jeans just don’t cut it, but Bonnie managed to find a desirable item or two. Darn, found another silk embroidery facility with yet another must-have picture. We are definitely going to have to try and avoid these places. It is amazing work though.

Because of its situation as a trading center, Hoi An has a strong representation of other nationalities such as Japanese and Chinese, and was the site of the first Chinese community in Vietnam. The outside influence is quite apparent in the architecture, from temples and bridges, to private homes. We toured through a private home that has been owned by the same family for six generations, over three hundred years. In actual fact, this house has been home to eight generations, as the daughter and granddaughter of the current owner, also live there. Of course, all these buildings were built along the river, and as a result flood every year in October or November. This will place a watermark four or five feet up the walls, but they take this all in stride. They merely move everything to the upper floors and settle in for four or five days. As the buildings are mostly built of brick, they seem to withstand this attack, as they have for hundreds of years.

We took a tour out to the Champa (Cham) temples just before we travelled on to Hue. These temples are situated at a place called My Son, and were the most important religious and intellectual center of its day. The Champa actually originated in central Vietnam, but trade with India converted them to the Hindu faith. They then spread their religion to the areas in which they lived. As their territory expanded during the second to fifteenth century, their religious inclination shifted to Buddhism, and now the descendants of the Cham Empire have to south Vietnam and to Indonesia, and have since become Muslims. Nothing remains the same. The temples at My Son were rediscovered by the French military in 1885 as the area was overgrown by the jungle, and the French army stumbled upon it by accident, while on patrol. They immediately started to plunder the ruins, and sent the artifacts back to France to display in their museums. My Son also suffered considerable damage from bombing by the American forces, during the Vietnamese war. It has since been established as a Unesco World Heritage sight, and restoration is currently being undertaken.

Next stop, Hue, the ancient capital of Vietnam —

The Riviera, Vietnamese Style

Nha Trang, Mediterranean north, the beach area of Vietnam. An area of blue-green water and white sand. Gentle waves from the Pacific break along the shore, building in the heat of the day then lying down as the sun lowers in the sky. Like the rest of us, energy spent — a time to relax. This is more like the Vietnam we had hoped for. Well, with the exception of our room that is. We are booked into the Green Hotel, a new structure of some sixty rooms, air conditioning, Internet, etc. etc Now the “Green” in Green Hotel, has nothing to do with its desire to save the planet or anything, it is the colour. Light greens, dark greens, bright greens, and soft greens. It feels as though we are being swallowed by Kermit the frog. At a guess, I believe that it may well have been new in the late nineties, plus they have the original mattresses on the beds. The reason that they have stood up this well is that they were made by Goodyear, as conveyor belts. Not a formula for a memorable sleep. We spent the remainder of the day looking for new lodgings. Hey, when you are spending $35. per diem, you do expect some luxury. Managed to find one with a bed that we could actually sleep in, closer to the beach as well.

In celebration of our successful hunt, we decided to have a real sit down meal. You can eat all the “chicken –on-a-stick” and grilled corn on the cob that you could ever want from the street vendors, but a “sit-down” is a nice change. From one of the locals, we got the names of a couple of restaurants serving good Vietnamese food, settling for the one closest to us.  A rather nice establishment, opening on to the street. Oh! A small word of advice, — don’t sit next to the street as you are within verbal reach of the beggars and peddlers. Anyway, we bypassed such old family favorites as “fresh field mouse” and “lightly cooked frog”, and went with the noodles. You can’t go wrong with the noodles, and they were also very good — as was the remaining several courses of our dinner.

The restaurant must be the gathering spot for the foreign crowd, as in addition to the group from Mother Russia; there was also an impressive representation from Scotland. The odd part of this last group was the numbers present who were named Glen. As the evening wore on, it became easier to just call them by their last name, Livet, Fiddich and Morangie. A lively discussion took place, generally filled with wisdom, and at times the conversation bordered upon absolute brilliance, but the  night wears on, and our bed calls out to us.

Not a great deal to see in Nha Trang, from a historic viewpoint, but the weather is not quite as hot, and the beach is great. We did do a bit of a temple tour, one from the days of the Cham (or Champa) rule, and a Catholic church from the days of the French rule — both still in use. And yes, there was the obligatory market for “just a souvenir or two”, as well as a shiny new backpack for the luggage overflow. We only travel light sporadically, as we ship boxes of extra back home to Canada. On the down side, this now makes room for new purchases — oh well. Also picked up a new embroidered silk picture, our second of the trip. Have to avoid those galleries.

Next to Hoi An —

Ho Chi Minh City, or to us ancients, Saigon

Fortunately Andrew Lloyd Webber was in his musical frenzy some years back, as Miss Ho Chi Minh City doesn’t have the same artistic ring as Miss Saigon. One of the things that the communists did after gaining control of the country was to rename the capital of South Vietnam, which they did in honor of their exalted leader.

We actually called it many other names before we left. It started with our trip from the airport to our hotel in the centre of the city. Being generally stupid, we ended up paying about double what we should have, which is an ulcer builder until you realize that we are not talking a kings ransom here. The amazing part is the number of motorbikes you must avoid. They claim to have about 8 million people in HCMC, and about 4 million motorbikes. I believe that they all run about the streets twenty-four seven. It is just like someone kicked the top off an anthill, there are bikes going in all directions. Now you also have trucks taxis and motorcars vying for space on the roadways, and people playing Russian roulette by trying to cross the streets.

My exalted shopping leader and I decided to make our way to a market place, and on our way encountered a local with his uptown rickshaw. He convinced us that this was the way to travel to the market, but as this vehicle was only designed to carry one, he quickly called up his good friend so that we could both ride in style. Now let me describe this chariot. If you were to take a stroller, designed for quite a hefty child, and weld it to the front of a very old bicycle, you would get the picture. It is actually called a xe om.

Fearlessly we hurl ourselves into the flow of traffic in our quest for the market. Well not fearlessly, really, as I suspect that my “white as a sheet” countenance was only over shadowed by Bonnie’s look of utter terror. It was then that I realized that my driver was entitled to show no fear, as he had an air bag in front of him — me. I had only feet ahead of me, and they were my own. In spite of all this we made it to the market unscathed, and our trusty drivers insisted that it would be absolutely no problem to wait for us and return us to our hotel. Oh lucky us.

The market was very nearly as congested as the streets, and in short order we returned to the street for our return trip, and true to his word, there was our driver and his trusty sidekick. The fact that he would not take payment for the trip to the market may also have had some bearing on their patience. Into the traffic we venture once again, and once again we arrive at our destination intact — miracles of miracles. Time to settle our account. There I was, in the centre of Ho Chi Minh City, with my Dong in my hand, when it was brought to my attention that I was somewhat short of Dong. There was perhaps enough Dong to satisfy myself, but hardly enough to satisfy Bonnie. Oh what to do at this late stage in life, but then it came to me — I could try American bucks. This appeared to satisfy all concerned, until my driver grabbed what he could, to share with he and his friend. There I was, short again. Lesson learned — don’t take the rickshaw type thingies anywhere, and make certain that you have sufficient Dong for all occasions. I suspect that he was able to buy the new luxury, Lexus-type xe om with his new found wealth.

We were beginning to feel a bit pouty-faced about Vietnam in general, and HCMC in particular, when Bonnie managed to find a store that carried embroidered silk pictures. Rather spectacular items that are embroidered by women in Dalat. The process that is used was first developed in Hue. Both cities are in central Vietnam. Now these skilled women embroider the most incredible pictures on silk cloth, with the finest of silk threads. There are pictures in an Oriental style, scenes of forests, flowers, fish and other fauna, as well as portraits. Of all the women who do this embroidery, there are apparently only about thirty who do the portraits, as this takes a special skill that not all have. We, of course picked up a portrait, as they were not only something to behold, they were also more expensive. We must uphold our image, and we can now say “adieu” to Saigon, with a better feeling.

Had a bit of a touchy feely type moment on the streets of Saigon. Athlete that I am, I was out by my own self, striding down the sidewalks of town, when an elderly dude (about my age), reached over and patted me on the shoulder as we were passing. Startled, I glanced in his direction, at which time he said “thank you”, snapped off a smart salute and carried on his way. He was long gone by the time I realized that he had probably assumed me to be a returning US veteran, and he was one of those left behind. It is gratifying to know that there are still those in Vietnam who appreciated the efforts and sacrifices of the US military, even from an unpopular war.

Took a tour from HCMC to the Cao Dei temple and the Chu Chi tunnels. Interesting, but different. It seem that back in the 30’s an individual, well actually 8 individuals, decided to establish a new religious group. I suspect that this was due to a strong desire for a better afterlife, but a total uncertainty of which religion had the best possibility for success. Their solution was to throw a little bit of several religions into one basket and, I suspect, hope for the best. Thus there are bits of the Catholic and Protestant religions, Buddhism and Islam faiths, and a little Taoist and Confucian beliefs as well. Now the temple structure was built on the lines of a Buddhist temple, but was much more colorful. I do suspect that the color co-coordinator from their interior design team was a tad light in his flip-flops, as he was very strong on baby blues, soft yellows and pinks. He loved pinks., and used them with total abandon, on both the exterior and interior. The interior of the temple was pretty much devoid of furnishings, with the exception of eight chairs, (more like thrones) for the eight founders. The most elevated chair was for the Pope, no — not that other guy, their own Pope. The lesser chairs are for Archbishops, Bishops, Cardinals etc. The faithful of the Cao Dei religion can attend service 4 times daily and must be vegetarians for 10 days per month. Those holding office must be veggies twenty-four seven. As those who founded the religion and held the positions of authority have long since passed on to wherever they were destined, the chairs now stand empty. They can be filled, but get this, it is done via a séance and with the assistance of an Ouija board. The communist government won’t, at present, authorize a séance, and so they remain unfulfilled. Bonnie and I didn’t sign up as it seemed a bit too Branch Dravidian and Wacky, Texas. Oops, sorry, that should read Waco, Texas.

Apparently the following has grown to some four million faithful, and in addition to the some four hundred temples in South Vietnam, there is a temple in Australia and two in California. California, you say — go figure!!

The Chu Chi tunnels were a different matter. In the heart of farming country, a village with communist leanings, was drawn into the conflict It appears as though the VC, the Chinese communists and Mother Russia, offered little support other than doctrine. To protect themselves from the defoliants and Napalm, the villagers built a labyrinth of tunnels and bunkers. These were built primarily at night, and the removed dirt was spread throughout the rice paddies. These tunnels interconnected with underground field hospitals, command centers, mess halls and barracks, and encompassed several levels. To assist in protecting this environment, they built numerous traps, in an effort to kill the soldiers from the south, particularly those soldiers wearing the uniforms of the US military. The tunnels themselves were very small, as for the most part Vietnamese are not noted for their large stature, and the lack of rice during the war years did nothing to add to their size. This was to their advantage, as the US soldier was better fed and bigger in stature, had difficulty in going through the small passages.

For the benefit of the tourist, some of the tunnels have been increased twofold. Twice as high and twice as wide, and even yet, in a squat, my shoulders still brushed both sides. Bonnie went through about fifty feet of this before claustrophobia really took hold, and after about 150 feet, I too, made my way to an exit. A “tunnel-rat” I ain’t.

It is back to Saigon ,and preparation for our next journey, a flight to Nha Trang, the beach area of Vietnam.

Keep tuned, and take care –

T

KHMER ROUGE

From the ancient grandeur of the Ankor area, Cambodia is now a country of relative poverty. This was aggravated by the despotic leader and the Khmer Rouge, who plundered and murdered their way through the countryside in the latter days of the Vietnam war. Pol Pot, who was educated in France, led the Khmer Rouge on a killing spree that exterminated some two million Cambodian peoples, about twenty-five percent of the entire population. As Pol Pot had the support of the communists in both North Vietnam and the USSR, it took the support of the South Vietnamese military and the US forces to defeat this aggression. At the close of WW11, we swore that the type of genocide experienced during the holocaust should never be repeated, and yet we have Cambodia, Bosnia, Uganda, Rwanda, and who knows how many others. Man’s inhumanity to man.

Although the Cambodian situation took place nearly forty years ago, the consequences are still felt on a daily basis. As the Khmer Rouge plundered the land, they also littered the countryside with land mines. This was done without mapping the areas. The US air force also dropped thousands of miniature anti personnel devices from the air, which littered the target areas with no way of mapping. Add to this mix tons of unexploded ordinance, and you have a cocktail for disaster.

It is quite common to see peasants missing limbs that were lost to unexpected mines as they tried to plant their crops, but the real sadness lies with the children. Because of the overall poverty, children scrounge about the battlefields looking for brass shell casings that can be sold for scrap, and they too find the minefields. Because it was more expensive and time consuming to attend to the injured, anti personnel mines were designed to maim, rather than kill, and they did it very well. Many of the countries young are missing limbs, hands, feet or both. As if it is not difficult to exist with a body intact. Even with all of this, there is a sense of happiness for the little that they do have, and a smile is available, for free, to all who will accept it.

It is estimated that it will take approximately an additional 100 years to remove the remaining unexploded munitions. The leaders of the Khmer Rouge are only now being tried for their crimes against humanity.

On to Vietnam.

T

Angkor WOW!

What can I say — aaaawesome!!!!  Was getting a little “templed” out, but this is different. Same, same — but different. It is difficult to visualize the magnitude of the construction of this type of undertaking, all with primitive tools and equipment.

Although Angkor Wat is the most famous of the temples in Cambodia, there are actually a number of temples, some larger, some more spectacular, but Angkor Wat is probably the most restored, and was the first to be “re-discovered” in 1860. History now tells us that a Japanese explorer had previously visited Angkor Wat in 1642, by accident, it seems. This must have been in a time prior to Japanese high-tech electronics, and luxury cars, as his compass, or GPS, or whatever he was using, lead him astray. He was on his way to India to visit an ancient Hindu temple, and ended up in Cambodia at Angkor Wat. Because of the Hindu gods depicted in the carvings at Angkor Wat, he patted himself on the back and said, “I have arrived”. He had, just not where he had intended. Like a friend once told me, “you’re only lost if you give a damn where you are at”. The explorer returned to Japan, and Angkor Wat returned to the jungle.

Now when the French were here in the mid nineteenth century, there were rumors of a magnificent lost city, but no-one believed that a country as poor as Cambodia, could have ever had the presence to build, or occupy a city of this stature, and so it remained only a rumor until it was re-discovered once again in 1860. Some restoration has been ongoing since then, in fits and starts.

The development in the Angkor region carried on from about the eighth to the thirteenth centuries, and what we see are the temples to the Gods. Apparently only the Gods could live in temples made of stone, the lesser beings compelled to live in structures made of wood. Much like present day Canada and parliament hill. Anyway, these temples were not meant as places of worship, but only a place for the Gods to dwell, but of course the king and those in favor could stroll through. The temples became increasingly more elaborate as time progressed, and each successive king tried to outdo the others in his quest to win favor with the Gods. Add to this mix the fact that religious affiliation swung back and forth between Buddhist and Hindu. As Cambodia was in the gateway region between India and China, traders brought many items from the area of India, including religion, however Cambodia was sporadically controlled by the Khmer (Cambodians) and the Cham from central Vietnam. The temples showed the influence of the time by the deities carved into the temple structures. It is interesting to note that there was no mortar used in the construction of these temples. The sandstone blocks were transported from a quarry some 60 kilometers away, and then assembled by rubbing the stones against each other until a perfect fit was obtained. Seemed to work as there are thousands of these stones still in place after all this time. In addition to this, they built huge moats around the temples and the adjacent cities and huge reservoirs for water control. It was a time of great wealth and prosperity for the Khmer.

We also stomped around ruins in a more primitive state. Ta Phrom has only been partially cleared of the jungle growth and gained some notoriety with Harrison Ford and Angelina Jolie in the movie Tomb Raider. A most impressive vision that helps to show us how really insignificant we really are. For six hundred years the jungle has patiently crept forward to reclaim the land that was taken from it. Trees have slipped their roots between massive stones until roofs and walls are toppled, leaving stones strewn about the jungle floor like so many fallen soldiers, lost in battle. It is easy to see how these massive developments were lost from history, but for stories passed from generation to generation. In our short time here, we have but scratched the historic surface of the area, leaving much to see on yet another journey.

More to follow —

The King and I

Last evening, on our trek for sustenance, we encountered an unusual event. The streets were awash with policemen, who were clearing the main roadway of all traffic, and preventing foot traffic from crossing the road. As this was the direction we were heading to eat, we chose to stand at the roadside and wait. Much like the rest of the pack of nerds at street level. We assumed that we were about to see someone famous pass by, such as Barbara Streisand or Homer Simpson or another of equal celebrity status. It turned out to be only the King. Not Elvis, the other guy — a local.

Began to think that I had fallen asleep and had awoken in Michigan. A veritable plethora of Chevy suburban’s, complete with security windows, zipping down the road at high speed. These were both preceded by and followed with highway patrol cars and flashing lights. A thirty-minute wait and a ten second glimpse, and it was over. Couldn’t identify a soul in any of the vehicles. Maybe it was Homer.

While awaiting the travelcade I had occasion to ponder my surroundings, and I came to the conclusion that if Canada were ever to wish to flex its military might, perhaps an invasion of Sweden would not be out of reason. If we were to attack during the month of February, I doubt that there would be enough bodies left in Sweden to muster a reasonable defense. Those who are not playing in the NHL, are blistering in Thailand. If we were to all dash down to the nearest arena and grab a broken hockey stick, we could use them as weapons. Most of these sticks have experience and would not shy away from a little bloodshed.

I am a bit uncertain as to what we would do with Sweden once it was ours, as I don’t think that their weather is any more favorable than ours, and we already have enough fish, but it would be somewhat gratifying to know that there was someplace where our military skills could stand out. Of small matter that the place was practically deserted at the time. Just a passing thought, and not likely to ever come about. I don’t think that our navy has sufficient fuel to get us to Sweden.

Next on the agenda — Cambodia and Vietnam. Talk to you then.

T

Hua Hin, sand and sea

Cha Am and Hua Hin, sort of the Mediterranean of Thailand, — in a basic form. Also the home of the present king, Rama 9.. It seems as though the polluted air of Bangkok is not suitable for Royal lungs, so a palace was constructed at Hua Hin for he, his family and the royal entourage. Rama 9 was not the first Thai ruler to determine this, as Rama 6 also had a “summer” palace built in Hua Hin. Sort of the leader of the pack. Now if this area is suitable for the king, it must also be great for the royal “hangers-on”, and thus a summer exodus to Hua Hin for the clear air and sandy beaches. It also has the advantage of only being two and one half hours drive from the outskirts of Bangkok, so the residents, of some means, can scoot down to the shore for long weekends and vacations. This, of course tends to elevate the costs somewhat, but really, that is in Thai standards. All the big name resort hotels have a presence here, mostly scattered along the beach area between Cha Am and Hua Hin. In addition to these monolithic accommodations, they have, once again, shown that almost anything can grow on sand if you give it some water. Thus much of the area in between has been converted to golf courses. In the quest for the almighty tourist dollar, and abundance of smaller boutique-type hotels have also sprouted up in the landscape, with many more in varying stages of construction.

It is interesting to watch the construction workers, scurrying about on the bamboo scaffolding, and climbing from floor to floor like so many monkeys, clinging to the fragile structure perched in the shadow of a new development. The safety apparel, worn at this time, might include some type of hat (for the sun), and flip-flops for your feet. Blue jeans and a long sleeved shirt fill out the ensemble. Mikey, if ever you wish to remove your buddy Burt from your butt, you should send him over here. He would be as excited as a new puppy. He would piddle all over his sneakers in his haste to write-up a portfolio of workers infractions. It could keep him busy ‘till long past retirement, and wear out numerous government-issue pens. Just a thought.

With all this construction, you don’t immediately notice the strain in the general economy, but when you see the lack of bodies on the beaches, or talk to the tuk-tuk drivers and shopkeepers, you are aware of the decreased number of tourists this year. One wonders what will take place when all these new facilities are completed, and they all compete for fewer dollars. Bargains could be had. In the meantime we continue to do our best to sustain the local economy.

Hua Hin seems to be in a state of transition, sharing the modern new construction with the traditional standards such as the day market, (mostly produce, fly infested fish, and chunks of butchered animals of varying descriptions) and the night markets, with all the “brand-name” same, same items found at every night market in Thailand. Gives you a great feeling of accomplishment when you can “haggle” a vendor down to two hundred baht for a pair of new Bermuda shorts. This amounts to about $6.50, and the last 50 baht that you battled over was really a buck and a half — likely most of the profit in the sale. One tends to forget that the big denomination bills really don’t amount to much in the conversion.

The night markets also have a lot of craft items, such as carvings, paintings and other hand crafted items. The last market we were at had a lady, well a woman, (as her personal life style is her own choice), who would print a persons name on a grain of rice and then install it in a bracelet or necklace. Now even with my glasses I could scarcely see the itty-bitty letters, but there they were, all neat as can be. She was probably training for a position making telephone directories. I could certainly say that this would be no undertaking for the morning-after shakies.

On Sunday we will take a taxi back to Bangkok, and catch our flight on to Siem Reep, in Cambodia. A three-hour taxi ride seems somewhat extravagant, but by the time you do the taxi thing at both ends, and a train ride in between, there is not much difference. Only works out to about $60. bucks any way. Like going from the airport to Victoria, or there about. Only doing the Angkor Wat thing in Cambodia, an archeological temple complex, which, I believe, was erected for the Hindu god Vishnu. We’ll find out in good time., then on to Vietnam. Will keep you posted.

T

On to Chiang Rai

Up and gone by oh-dark-thirty, met at the door of our hotel by our trusty guide and our van driver. Guide was called Peter, (his suggestion), as he claimed that his given name was so long even he had trouble pronouncing it, so Peter would do. We continued on to gather the rest of our entourage for our jaunt to Chiang Rai. We were a regular league of nations, as we were comprised of two Thais, two Canadians, two from the Netherlands, one from Switzerland, an Australian, an Indonesian and an American. This was to be a full day tour to Chiang Rai and the golden triangle, with the obligatory side trip to a temple ruins. Now Chiang, in Thai, means city, so basically we were going from city Mai to city Rai. Same, same – but different. Chiang Rai is the most northerly major city in Thailand, and the gateway to the golden triangle.

Chiang Mai is in foothills country, and is sort of the breadbasket of Thailand. That would be, of course, if bread were a staple, but somehow rice basket doesn’t sound quite right. In the “old days”, this area was known as Lanna, which translates to one million rice paddies, or so we are told. You get the picture at any rate. The down side to all this agriculture is that they burn off all the rice stubble, twice a year, which gives the sky a definite haze, much like Bangkok. Chiang Rai, on the other hand, is in the mountains, and is not only cooler, but the sky is clearer. Most of the artisan industry is located in the north, and Chiang Rai is no exception. We had the opportunity (oh lucky us) of visiting a small factory where they cut and polished rubies (from Myanmar), sapphires and jade. Now although Bonnie viewed this as a buffet, and thought that she should try some of everything, she showed remarkable restraint and settled for only the sapphires and a jade carving. It seems that jade, in this neck-of-the-woods can be had in every shade from white to dark green, the dark green coming, once again from Myanmar, and being the most highly prized. It is also considerably, the most expensive, so of course we settled for a larger carving of dark green.

On to the “Golden Triangle”, an area bordering Myanmar, Laos and Thailand. Myanmar and Thailand are separated by a small, fast flowing river, and the Mekong River separates both Myanmar and Thailand from Laos. The Mekong actually flows through six countries and is the longest river is southeast Asia. The triangle area was actually in no man’s land in the centre of the river confluence, and was devoid of any type of policing. This made it ideal for the trading of illicit opium grown in all three countries, as well as China. This took place into the 1960’s, when the farmers were “encouraged” to grow other crops. In it’s hay-day, opium traded for equal weight in gold, so simple balance scales were used. All rather interesting.

Because of religious conviction, there are no gambling outlets in Thailand; so directly across the border in Myanmar is a huge, new casino. Also directly across the border in Laos, a huge, new casino is under construction This will give the Thais, who don’t gamble, a place to go “shopping”, as the mood so strikes. Now we did not get to visit the casinos, but did get a short visit to Laos via a riverboat. This was done without benefit of a visa for Laos, but as a special part of our tour. Also we were accompanied by an addition to our entourage, who collected a twenty baht entry fee, per person. He also did not accompany us back to Thailand when returned. Let me think—perhaps a government dude for the Laotian government, do you suppose?

If we were not gazing across the Mekong River, at Thailand, it would be hard to determine that we had actually left. The touristy market in Laos was same, same as the touristy market in Thailand, and the well tanned smiling faces, in both countries looked very much alike. The one item, which obviously separated the markets were the open display of local liquor, in Laos, a veritable den of iniquity. The local whiskies must have lacked a bit of a kick, as each and every bottle had the addition of a cobra, a scorpion, or sometimes both. I’m surprised that this hasn’t caught on elsewhere, as the sales propaganda claimed all types of medical benefit. Possibly the theory being that if you could survive a bottle of this, you could live through anything. I guess I’ll never know.

Our river trip back to Thailand took us past good-sized vessel, which at some time had been submerged in the Mekong. It had since been drug ashore and beached. Even in this state, it looked more sea-worthy than the boat we were on, and was definitely much larger. Our trusty guide, Peter, showing a sense of humor, informed us that it was locally known as the Thai-tanic.

After an excellent meal, and a stop at a town that straddled the Myanmar-Thai border, we headed our way south, back to Chiang Mai. A full and interesting day, our next stop Hua Hin. More to follow. Take care of yourselves.

T

The Longnecks

Uneventful flight from Singapore to Bangkok and the same on to Chiang Mai. The flight from Singapore was international so we had to clear customs at Bangkok. Arrived at Chiang Mai in the late evening, so off to our hotel to call it a day. We could have called it several things, as the room was not what we expected. Bonnie wore her cranky face and had a discussion or two with the desk people, but accomplished nothing but frustration—hers that is.

Now let me describe our room. It was clean. So much for the good points, it kind of went down from there. It appeared as though the building was originally constructed as small apartments and then at some point someone decided that hotels were more lucrative. Now this apartment was comprised just about two and a half rooms. One of these rooms was a bedroom. This was fairly easy to discern, as there was a bed in there. The other two rooms were a little more difficult to name as the first room entered was sort of like a sitting room, as it had a chesterfield and a chair. It also had a coffee maker and so appeared perfect for entertaining. It also had a Jacuzzi bathtub, which left some question as to what type of entertaining was expected. The half room was the “shitter”, and appeared to be an afterthought as you stepped down into it. As it appeared as though they had pirated this area from the broom closet, the doorway was only about five and one-half feet tall. Bonnie was fine with that, but I can assure you that it can come as a complete surprise in the middle of the night. Can give you such a smack on the old pumpkin that you could very nearly forget what you were doing in the first place. Now after a sound sleep, Bonnie was rejuvenated and prepared to do battle over our digs, so she arranged an appointment with the manager. I believe that she offered to change his gender for him, which is not such a threat around here as there are many who do this by choice, but in the end the manager offered us an upgrade. It seems as though the hotel was built in stages, and by moving to the new building we got bright clean rooms and a real bathroom—of its own.

Took a tuk-tuk out to the manufacturing area just to see some of the artisans at work. They manufacture some incredible product, in what we would classify as rather primitive conditions. Didn’t even buy a lot, at least we were able to cart what little we had, with us. Our tuk-tuk driver waited patiently for us, as the 40 baht return trip was apparently well worth the wait. This converts to about a buck and a quarter, but it seems that the tourist traffic is down this year. On the way back to town, our driver offered his driving expertise, and a car for the following day. Car and driver for 600 baht, (about twenty bucks) so we of course bartered him down to 500 baht. Now there was a method in our madness, with this high price taxi rental, as Bonnie had read of a tribe of mountain peoples called the “long-necks”, and wanted to check this out. It seems as if possibly the women of the tribe were somewhat short in stature and inasmuch as a giraffe has seven vertebrae, just like a human, that possibly their height could be improved by stretching the ladies necks. This was done by means of brass rings stacked around the neck. As additional height was wanted, additional rings were added.  They tried a similar thing in the old west, by using a hemp rope and an available tree, but the action was too sudden and the mortality rate was high. The peoples were actually from the Padong tribe, but were called longnecks for obvious reasons.

The following morning arrived and so did our driver. Well not the same driver, but his friend, and not the described air-conditioned car. This car was like a pick-up truck with bench seats in the box, and a canopy. In fact it was a pick-up with bench seat and a canopy. We of course immediately bartered him down to 400 baht, and off we went to see the longnecks. This little village was about 35 miles away, and high in the mountains, quite a picturesque drive and a very pretty spot when we actually got there. The village is really comprised of families of eight different mountain tribes, most of whom came from the golden triangle area. Now it seem that the mountain people really didn’t give a fat rat about borders, as they had been traveling this area for generations. The Thai government looks upon them as illegal’s, much like the Mexicans and the U.S., but this village exists under an agricultural permit. While the men fiddle about in the fields, the women tend to the menial stuff at home, such as tending to the children, cleaning house, making meals, raising chickens and in their spare time they grind rice, weave, embroider elaborate patterns on home made cloth, and as well make jewelry. All this they then try to sell to the tourists. And we thought we could improve on a system like this. It was all most interesting at any rate. The longnecks were particularly interesting, and the brass rings that they have as an adult must amount to some ten pounds or so. They start this ritual when the girls are quite young. I would think that this would be most uncomfortable, but for eons women have been subjecting themselves to all sorts of torture —all in the name of beauty.

As we still had some day left on our daylong rental, we went back to Chiang Mai, to a furniture plant. Some experience. All their furniture is manufactured on sight, from teak or rosewood. The rosewood is all imported from Burma (Myanmar), and is harder than teak. Makes most impressive furniture. In addition, this factory is noted for their carvings and inlays. They were in the process of carving a custom door on both sides. It will take the carver about a year to finish the three dimensional carvings and oh yes, the door is about ten feet by four feet, solid teak. We also say them doing some mother of pearl inlays in some rosewood cabinets. One could never afford to have this type of craftsmanship done in North America. It is far too labour intensive. Hell, I couldn’t even afford to have it done in Thailand.

Finally got our driver to take us back by our hotel. He had been most patient. Actually gave him the 500 baht that we had intended. He thought Christmas had landed—we didn’t keep him all day, and we gave a tip. All that good will for about sixteen bucks. Who’d a thunk it??

Tomorrow we are off to Chiang Rai—north and in the mountains. Should be interesting, will let you know. TTFN

T

SINGAPORE

Singapore, a jewel in the crown of Asia. Certainly the price of a jewel, at any rate. A spend-man’s paradise. I have never seen so many high end stores  in a cluster, anywhere else. Not New York, not London. Bonnie thought that she had died and gone to heaven. There were no less than a dozen dealers in Rolex watches, within two blocks of our hotel, and as Bonnie was having her hair pouffed at a salon in the Paragon shopping centre, I perused the Rolex display in one of the stores. What appeared to be a display of watches with stainless steel cases caught my eye — that is until I noticed the price. The one that I fancied was a mere $ 71,000.00 . It was platinum, not stainless – and there was a whole window of them. But hey, put that in it’s proper perspective, those were Singapore dollars and that isn’t even $60,000.00 Canadian. You won’t be dazzled with the new Rolex on this arm.

I have also not seen a major city so clean either. Saw a T-shirt that stated that Singapore was a fine place to be. There was a “fine” for jay-walking, a “fine” for chewing gum,  a “fine” for littering and a “fine” for a number of other infractions. It does make for a very clean and orderly city at any rate.

As our hotel was right down in the shopping district (thanks Chad), we of course did what when we arrived ? Yes— we went shopping. On our way back to our hotel we encountered a bit of local action. A young female was apparently shopping at Tangs, but it seems that she preferred not to pay. As she left the building she was pursued by a small sales clerk. When the clerk caught up to the lady in question, the clerk glommed onto the big-name purse the lady in question was leaving with. With a great deal of vocal discussion, the perp finally released her grip and made a mad dash for a nearby taxi. By this time, other store peoples were in attendance and the taxi driver was not taking the woman anywhere, the lady flew out of the other door of the taxi, and ran across traffic to the other side of the street and disappeared. Now this is Orchard Street, four or five lanes of busy. All this and she was minus a shoe, as she had lost one during her initial scuffle. It seems that the judicial system in Singapore takes a very dim view of criminal activity and this was quite evident by the extra effort made for her escape. Unless they do the Cinderella thing with the shoe. Heck, in Canada the perp would just stand and laugh as they would be back on the street before the cop would have the paperwork done. Something as minor as shop lifting ?? Ha! However, as Bonnie was quite prepared to pay for her “must-have” items, we had no fear of the law.

The other major pastime to participate in whilst in Singapore is eating. Fortunately we were well practiced in this endeavor, and put our experience to the test. You can find just about any ethnic group in Singapore, and the eating establishments reflect this. We put our best effort into eating our way around the world, but mercifully we were only in Singapore for four days.

Interspersed with eating and shopping we also did the touristy things. Looked at a gazillion orchids at the botanical gardens, got a close-up view of a Merlion, and took the gondola ride. Most of the time in between was spent walking to the next spot. Bonnie thrives on all of this, but I felt more like I had been set upon by thugs, who had pummeled me, without mercy, using both clenched fists and cudgels. Four days of this pace is ample, and we can’t afford more shopping. Even though it was still Chinese New Year, and there were sales everywhere.

On a low note, Bonnie is amazed at the lack of communication between airport facilities in Asia. After her minor set to at airport security in Bangkok last year, where she was compelled to glare – down the insolent chappie who was  trying to take her rather large bottles of hair items, and the difficulty of trying to pour said items into many small containers, she was certain, I believe, that the word would have been spread that old ladies are not terrorists, and that the ridiculous rule of small quantities need not apply. Wrong — Singapore was not yet aware of this, and an insolent young lady would not let poor Bonnie take her high priced hair chemicals in her carry on. Being female, the young lady was not nearly as intimidated with a glare, as the fellow in Bangkok was ( he was most likely a husband) and I suspect that the young lady could picture herself taking the contraband home with her.

A day of travel and we will be in Chiang Mai. More blog from there.

T