Tuesday, November 14, 2017

The journey out of Thailand- 1of2







It’s time again.Time for me to finally sit down again with the purpose of writing down a story I hope to never forget. This time I’ll take you somewhere new. We will venture back to the border of Laos and Thailand. We were in the north of Thailand in the hippie village of Pai, our 30 day visas just on the verge of expiration. We have a few options. I was traveling with Natalie, whom will appear in a lot of my stories because we traveled together for the majority of my time in Asia. We had arranged via facebook to meet, for the first time, in Bangkok. Ah, the power of the internet. I loved to tell everyone we met that we had, “Met online, through a dating website...Yes we are in love.”I don’t think she liked that line. Anyways, we had booked our exit ticket together before meeting. (As you are supposed to have proof of exit when entering the country on a tourist visa, I was never asked to prove it though.) So sitting in rooms on opposite sides of the room, facetiming for the first time, we booked tickets for 30 days after arriving in Bangkok on a plane to Myanmar.


With those tickets being pre-booked our options were then, to leave Pai back to Bangkok and onto our flight according to the plan we made before knowing what we would even be getting ourselves into. Sounds exciting, a new mysterious place with new mysterious people.Or we could join our new friends on the boat ride from the edge of Thailand up the Mekong River to the Laotian town of Luang Prabang, a sure fire good time. Or of course we could draw a wild card, spin a globe, place our finger and say, “Here! We will go here.” All of the options had the amazing potential of throwing caution to the wind and seeing how all the new pieces lay out at our feet, all would be new and adventurous with so much of the glorious unknown I love so much. How to decide, how to decide? A few nights out in Pai dancing with strangers who became friends and a few mornings in lazy hammocks and bamboo bunk bed huts,convinced us we had a really good thing going with our new friends who were headed to the east, so what the hell let’s go! Laos, here we come.


There are two boat options from Thailand to Laos. First, the slow boat, a casual two day boat ride, down the mekong with a night stop in a river village. A long journey which cuts into your travel time once you arrive, but a lot lower risk than our second option. Second option, the speed boat, which is; you strapped into a life jacket and helmet (yes, a helmet) sitting on the bottom of a small thin boat, clutching your bag flying up the river as fast the boat can manage. This option results in you getting there significantly faster, or in death. Weigh out those odds if you like. Decision? We will take the slow boat. Like they always say “ Life moves fast, slow down and smell the water buffalo.” Don’t they?


Picture of one of the slow boats. Natalie took this photo not me.



To get to the boats you have to go through the interesting procedure of crossing the border. Ours began with a mini bus ride down the curvy mountain roads from Pai, one that had a strange amount of stops along the way, picking people up, bathroom breaks, drug deals(?), obviously strategic stops at a little restaurant or roadside snack shack where you can conveniently pay for something like a whole watermelon to chop up and share with your friends as you try to make a quick recovery from car sickness before you have to get back in.


We are all just trying to get some sleep, and if you have ever been in any sort of vehicle in South East Asia you know that it is a remarkable thing to accomplish, if you ever do. Never been through that, let me attempt to explain. Imagine this, you are crammed into a 15 passenger van, is there only 15 people in there? Only god knows. Is there air conditioning? Only god and maybe one lucky passenger with a working vent knows. (expect for the rare occasion when the aircon does work and it’s turned on full blast 100% of the time, in which case, be sure to pack your winter coat. The options are only the extremes.) You fly around corners and through intersections at what must be the speed of light, you and all the luggage flying with it, from one side of the car to the other. Wheels screeching, stomachs turning, prayers shouted to any god who might be listening. The traffic rules are unclear, except one, use your horn ALWAYS. Use it if your are turning, use it if you are stopping, or not stopping, if you are going to hit someone or they are about to hit you, if you just feel like it, always use your horn. So do you sleep while being thrown left, right, left right, forward, whiplash back, rag doll in a hot, loud, cramped car while luggage is falling on top of you? You’ll figure it out.


This particular ride had all of these lovely luxuries. The road to and from Pai is exceptionally curvy and the pit-stops especially shady. Everyone from our group had booked tickets as people had decided that they were going, so we ended up on a few different mini buses but would catch up over slices of watermelon, popsicles and soda.


Almost everyone decked out in bandages and casts from their accidents from the ever popular scooter accident, especially popular in Pai, multiple people we had seen days before were now on crutches or had casts covering at least one major appendage. Battle stories were shared across the wooden picnic tables before climbing back into our metal carriages. With hours still ahead all stops started becoming more annoying. So when at 1 or 2 am we pulled into a mystery parking lot we weren’t even thinking about getting off the bus. That is until our driver yelled at us telling us to get off and be back in 1 hour. What on earth were we doing here? We wandered into a strange, smoky room where everything seemed to be covered in pink plush. A woman escorts us through the strange fluffy room filled with old men looking out of place and strange, to a set of stairs, at the top tables chairs and menus were accompanied by a lovely Thai man singing covers of American songs. He was doing an very impressive job with it but was slightly overshadowed by the humor found in the fact that most of the ‘words’ he was using weren’t words at all. He had obviously learned by ear (extremely impressive) but had never known the actual words, just the noises which resulted in most of the lyrics being strange nonsensical sentences that left me and natalie rolling in our chairs trying and failing to control our giggles. Who cares about the food, the music was the star of this evening. (This place also had one of the nicest, best smelling bathrooms I ever used in Asia. Enough so that all this time later it still vivid in my memory, that is a nice bathroom...)


Some songs were more understandable than others.
This is one of the best


Flirting with Natalie at dinner.


A few hours more on or bus we arrive at the place where we will spend the night. It was the dead of night, a sketchy, small, very yellow and what appeared to be a completely deserted motel. Our driver, Nat and I were the only souls in sight only because we were the last to arrive. There were about 5 rooms designated for renting out for the night. Likely only for those waiting to do border crossing in the same manner as us.


We were told to be up early for complimentary breakfast (oh la luxury) and to grab the necessary supplies for the next day. Sleep came over us very quickly after a very tired over look of our room; made up of a very lumpy king size mattress, a old tv stand with nothing on it or in it, and a bathroom with a light so bright your eyes shriveled in your skull as it came buzzing to life. Only the next night did we find out we maybe should have done a more thorough examination. One of our friends Jay told us he had spent the night on the floor because his bed had bedbugs.


Classic crappy instant coffee and accompanying strange egg sandwiches were passed around while everyone pulled out their large wads of cash and tiny square  mugshots needed to get the visa for Laos. As it turns out all of our friends who had booked separately had all also ended up in Motel Yellow.


I’m writing this as a journal, and maybe I drone on a bit too much sometimes, but there are so many details I do not want to forget. Since this is longer than expected, for the ease of reading I suppose I will break this post into 2 different parts. And so ends PART 1

(I don't have many pictures from this part of the story, so you can try to use your imagination for the majority)

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Pt. 1

Since technically this is the beginning of this story I should explain now, this is not the beginning. I have neglected this for far too long and now in an attempt to reconcile my flaw of compulsory forgetting I am now starting to write down the stories that make up the best, worst, strangest, most lovely and honestly whatever else I decide, stories that I can remember. Since I will document them in the order received by the memory box between my ears, there will not be an exact order. Perhaps at some point I may try my best to put them in some sort of consecutive order but for now we will just go on some sort of out-of-order, wonderful mystery-box of a journey into what are, the stories of my life. So, for now please enjoy what are my most valuable possession, my memories.




Pt 1.


Among the endless list of problems with the American pharmaceutical/health care industry is the fact that if you find yourself without insurance and in need of any medical, well anything really, you will wind up with nothing less than an absurd amount of bills totaling an unrealistic amount of money for which you have now have  work till you die to pay for not dying. Get it? Me neither. Here is the thing, maybe it is stupid but I would rather risk tempting the cruel mistress of fate then end up locked up in a coffin of debt, smelling of misery and life long commitment to never ending interest rates.This is how I’ve been living the 4 previous years  of my uninsured life, mostly luck and a quick placed foot, somehow avoiding the land of medical bill mines.So when I found myself at the clinic, a woman in light blue scrubs and dark hair pulled into a bun, staring at me with tired, overworked eyes, waiting for me to decide which of the list of indiscernible medical words that must be the immunizations that my mom had sent me in to get. But how would I know? I don’t speak this foreign language. She explains again what she has said, while I stare blankly at the bright sheets of paper giving more headaches than information.Enough is enough, decision time. I blatantly told her I had no idea which ones I needed but I didn’t want to pay for any of them, so tell me exactly what I do and don’t need. When dealing with words like Malaria, Tetanus and Diphtheria,it feels a bit wrong to say no thank you. Yet here I was turning down malaria medication because it would have cost me more that 1 month of my trip would have cost. Then there is the whole point of this medical ramble, Rabies. As it would turn out it’s expensive to attempt to prevent rabies, 4 shots, each individual would cost me 600$ and needed to be spread out over an amount of time that I did not have. (Wait, did I really wait until 2 weeks before I jump on a plane to even consider getting immunized? Yes, absolutely and I am surprised that I even did it that far ahead of time) So hold on, I would be paying 2,400$ for something that may may not stop me from getting rabies  and the exact same medication that would be administered if I was in fact exposed to? No thank you. My nurse instead gave me the necessities, 3 shots, a few tablets and the much cheaper alternative rabies prescription: just stay away from the animals, especially the monkeys. I look fate in the face and tell her to bring it on.


I don’t have to words necessary for explain the mysterious beauty and peaceful wonder that surges through you when you wander through the walls of Angkor Wat. The name means "Temple City" or "City of Temples" in Khmer and was originally build as a Hindu temple of god Vishnu, God of preservation and protection. (quick little history lesson for you whom have read this far) The first thing you see after pulling up on the long road lined with ancient curving trees, a truly massive mote that is wide enough to look more like a river but is far too perfect to actually be one. The still water surrounding Angkor reflects a crystal clear image of its breathtaking towers. The crumbling, ancient stone bridge leads directly to the entrance to the grand temple. Walking over the cool water you watch the reflection change shape and somehow grow more and more mesmerizing. Passing smiling monks, stepping in tiny puddles with their own tiny reflections, getting a hint  in this moment: you are about to experience magic.


I wrote down my thoughts of Angkor while walking between the intricate carving covered stone columns of  one silent and empty corridor. “The ancient walls of Angkor scream out, begging for you to get lost wandering through them for hours. Forcing you to feel all the history as you stare in awe at the detail still preserved.”


Despite the fact that Angkor is swarming with tourists dying to see this incredible wonder there is no shortage of quiet areas to be explored alone. Seriously, this place is massive.  Within the initial walls you enter the area has what seems like infinite layers of more walls to find and explore. I was traveling with my cousin and a best friend since birth (we were born just days apart) and we arrived to Angkor together but decided to wander separately for a while to see what we could find, this was a common travel trend with us as nomadic companions. I grabbed the camera and he took the Go Pro and we strapped up our backpacks and headed out alone into the vastness of the temple.


After 2 hours or so alone II was walking through a series of pillar arch ways, on my right only the column separated me from the outside edge of this particular building, and to the left  the hallway continued till it met a wall covered in big windows looking into the next room and massive carvings in the stone. Stories, men and elephants in vicious battles towered next to me. I was the only one in the hallway walking towards the sun that shone through the pillars. It felt so peaceful. Spoke too soon,  what was that? Did something just run across hall? A small black dart through the arch ahead? No, it couldn’t have! But there, Again! And again! I feel eyes on the back of my head and suddenly feel uneasy. I slowly turn around, like a person in a horror movie with the murder is right behind them, as if turning slower will stop them from killing you. So silly, yet slowly I turn hoping to see nothing but stone.


My slow turning was completely in vain. I was surrounded. Now my mind was flashing back to that story I told you in the beginning, remember? The whole no thanks, I don’t need the rabies shot, I’m fine, basically indestructible story? Well in this moment I regretted all of that. My gaze was met by 20 monkeys, staring at me like I was about to be dinner. Still, I think if i back away slowly maybe they will leave me alone. For every slow, calculated step I take back the monkeys take one quick step towards me. Feet start slow, then exponentially pick up pace till I realize this whole plan isn’t working, screw this time to turn and run for you life. I am not sure I have ever run so fast in my life (my P.E. teachers would have been so proud.) I am darting through the arch ways, as swiftly as my Chaco clad feet would allow past windows and carvings, through door ways,and over stairs. But alas my primate pursuers were gaining on me. I see a head of a girl around my age peek out of a window sill a few meters ahead. I watch as her eyes bug out behind her glasses, her jaw drops as she lets out a scream, “Oh, NO!” She realizes if she doesn’t move the every growing monkey mafia will soon overtake her. At least now I am not alone in my mad dash. We run around a corner together, now bonded by the risk of death (surprisingly neither of us tried to trip the other to save our own life) Ah, ha! Humans, straight ahead. Strength in numbers and whatever! The monkeys seem to back off to check out the group and decide if they can take all on. So much relief fills my body as I feel I have just escaped my demise. Konner also happens to be in this group of ‘Humans’ whom by convenient placement saved me. I start to tell him what has just happened to me, throwing my arms around to tell the story of how I came to be running around with a herd of monkeys. Every other human is saying “Oh how cute, monkeys!” snapping photos, “Oh, look at that one!” Even Konner joins in. I breath a sigh of relief. What a day.


I feel a scrape on the back of my leg, and as a hairy arm reaches over my shoulder. I am being pulled down backwards, a flurry of tiny legs are hitting against my legs and waist. It takes a moment for me to realize that I am being jumped! A monkey menace must have sensed I felt safe and took it as the perfect opportunity to attack. This psycho is on my back, legs dancing on my backpack. A moment of attempted life preserving idiocy convinces me to rip of my backpack. “Take everything! Have it all you filthy animal!”, not even caring for a second my money and passport are in this backpack. More monkey friends come to share the spoils. Just then a tiny grabby monkey hand reaches to the sky and shrieks. I finally find out the culprit of this whole fiasco, a small, over ripe, bright yellow banana is pulled out of my pack.


You have got to be kidding me. Who in their right mind runs around monkey infested grounds with a banana hanging out of their pack? I flash back to 3 days before, I stood in a 7/11 telling the cashier that I absolutely did not want to buy a banana while she is telling me that I definitely do. She must have had stronger debating skills because I left with 2 bananas. 7/11 strikes again.  Konner stops laughing for long enough to negotiate a trade with the monkeys, they get the banana and a few coffee candies and I get my pack and my life.

I still wonder why I bought those bananas.



Photographic Evidence: