Saturday, February 20, 2010
Vientiane and Vang Vieng
Thailand was a blast, but we must leave it for now and head for Laos. The overnight trip was a bust. Minivan 12 deep and mostly asshole Australians. This might be a good time to speak about the different backpackers in Southeast Asia. They are divided not necessarily evenly into 4 groups:
1) Piece of shit Aussies traveling from party town to party town, making a mockery of them and all places in between.
2)Piece of shit Brits traveling from party town to party town, making a mockery of them and all places in between.
3)Liberal people/animal/treehuggers intent on learning as much about the countries, cultures, and environments they tread lightly upon.
4)French people.
Meghan and I would identify most closely with Group 3, but must woefully come in contact with the other groups and cringe acrimoniously when locals assume we are part of Groups 1 or 2.
Anyway, we had to spend a dreadful night with Group 1 on the bus to Laos. Loud, rude, and drunk, they made me ashamed to speak English. But, as their description suggests, they skipped Vientiane (read: cultural capital) and headed straight for Vang Vieng (read: mountainous paradise ruined by an onslaught of Groups 1 and 2). So we had a few days respite.
1) Piece of shit Aussies traveling from party town to party town, making a mockery of them and all places in between.
2)Piece of shit Brits traveling from party town to party town, making a mockery of them and all places in between.
3)Liberal people/animal/treehuggers intent on learning as much about the countries, cultures, and environments they tread lightly upon.
4)French people.
Meghan and I would identify most closely with Group 3, but must woefully come in contact with the other groups and cringe acrimoniously when locals assume we are part of Groups 1 or 2.
Anyway, we had to spend a dreadful night with Group 1 on the bus to Laos. Loud, rude, and drunk, they made me ashamed to speak English. But, as their description suggests, they skipped Vientiane (read: cultural capital) and headed straight for Vang Vieng (read: mountainous paradise ruined by an onslaught of Groups 1 and 2). So we had a few days respite.
Vientiane is a lovely, small capital. Everything is within walking distance and was clean, safe, and wonderful. Days were spent wandering the French colonial streets in search of cultural enlightenment and nights were spent indulging in $2 all-you-can-eat Indian food or noodles and beer and cards on the Mekong. A nice intro to Laos.
Next was the inevitable stop Vang Vieng. Vang Vieng is nestled in limestone hills, but it is more of an area instead of a town. The 'town' is littered with shabbily-built restaurants, bars, and travel agencies catering to 'Friends' fanatics and perennial spring breaker types. "It's Spring Break somwhere!" It left me with a knot in my stomach to see so many toilsome Lao slaving for a bunch spoiled Western brats whose main objective was to get as wasted as possible (weed and mushroom shakes abound), write "I love Cock" on their bodies (equally distributed between the sexes), tube down the river blaring MGMT next to locals doing laundry riverside, swing wildly in all directions off of precarious ropes and zip lines, and try to take each other home at the end of the night. The only saving grace was the country-wide curfew of midnight. Maybe I'm getting old, but stay in Australia and do that shit. Don't bring the worst of Western culture here.
It felt like a Wild West enclave. A place where nearly anything goes, a Kafka-esque hellscape, a place where locals are little more than indentured servants, where the exchange rates ensure that foreigners will always have the upper hand. Where, no matter how much Kip you earn, you'll never be able to convert it to anything significant in dollars, enslaving you in the cruel game of worldwide currency, making $2 a day serving those who have a seemingly endless Kip supply that they waste on sheer hedonism--scoffing at the impoverished beggars along the way.
Thankfully Meghan recognized this as well, and we tried not to participate. We found a bungalow across the river in the mountains and spent our days in the glorious pursuit of nature. Kayaking, navigating an underground river, spelunking, hiking, bike riding, and rock climbing. We did spend one day tubing, and had it been in the States, it would have been a blast. Rope swings, music, flesh and drugs galore, and $5 buckets full of alcohol. But here. Here, it was an affront on all things decent. A place where, just 35 years before, the US was indiscriminately bombing the people back to the Stone Age. Frivolity with that kind of history and current poverty I cannot tolerate.
Are you still reading? I'm surprised. Despite all of this, Vang Vieng has a lot to offer. But instead of holding your nose, as some guidebooks suggest, you need to blindfold yourself as well. But the people are amazing, the scenery is stunning, and the activities are top notch. I spent a day biking through the country-side exploring wondrous caves along the way. Cave shrines are a big thing here. And its wonderful. To see either deteriorating or well-maintained Buddhas far away from the sun's suspicious eye is a marvelous experience, conjuring up images of midnight meditations and clandestine rituals. All the caves were deserted, or nearly so, further enhancing the experience and the risk had I misstepped.
Meghan and I went rock climbing one day, and had a great time. The routes were quite challenging and we met some great people. Two, particularly Andrea (Australia) and Karen (France) would be with us in Luang Prabang.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Second Home and Pai
Meghan and I left Chiang Mai and got on a local yellow truck for a 4 hour drive through the northern Thai Hills, stopping in Samoeng and finally Pang Term. We walked across a bamboo bridge and through a few rice patties to reach Second Home, our home for the next 10 days. It was lovely. We met wonderful people from Thailand, Brazil, South Africa, Quebec, and Switzerland.
The rules:
1) Breakfast at 7:45AM.
2) Organic Vegetarian food only.
3) Work if you desire, desire your work.
4) Cook what you want, eat what you cook.
5) Respect all living beings as sacred.
6) Group meditation at 7:30PM.
7) The Eightfold Path is your guide.
8) Above all, follow your bliss.
And it was fabulous. We weeded the crops, planted new ones, and built a clay herb garden.
In between work, we laid in hammocks, conversed in philosophy, practiced walking meditation and mindfulness, read, ate, and played with the dogs.
We walked to a neighboring village and passed out used shoes. Amazing the reception we got. Some of the happiest people I'd encountered up to that point, and that was just the welcome we received before we displayed our 'gifts'.
After meditations at night, I was the most tranquil I think I've ever naturally been. Calm and quiet. Slow movements. Silent walks into the field to lie down and ponder the infinite stars, the most of which I think I've ever seen. Contemplative DVDs, watching "The Power of Now with Eckhart Tolle"--highly recommended.
A marvelous 10 nights, which sadly, had to come to an end. Meghan and I said goodbye to the farm, which had truly become our second home, and caught a 6am yellow truck to Samoeng.
We got dropped off in Samoeng with a 2 hour wait for the truck headed to Pai, a once-sleepy hippie mountain village, now a staple stop along the backpacker tract. After a tortuous and tormentingly bumpy 5 hour ride, we stopped. Pai? Doesn't look like what we envisioned. The driver got out and pointed to the wat (temple) across the road. "You sleep. Tomorrow Pai". But its 3 in the afternoon! We want to go to Pai today! "Pai no. Watchan. You sleep." And then he hurried us out of the back of his pickup and took off. Great.
We looked around and found about a dozen or so villagers all staring at us. The guys drinking beer and smoking. The women running the shop. People on bikes stared at us as they passed. Even the dogs were drawn to us. Thankfully, we had been in Thailand long enough to not worry. Thai people are wonderful, and I felt totally safe. It was more of,0" wow, this is the most excitement/white people this village has seen in a while."
The villagers managed to track down an ex-Monk named Oxy who learned English in the monastery as well as working as a restaurant worker in Pai--which we learned was 70 kilometers away. So much for hiking or thumbing it. He was able to arrange a room for us behind the shop where we were dropped off. We walked through the shop, out the back, past the bathing grandparents, suckling puppies, and various farm animals, and up to the second floor of the backhouse. This was obviously where the large extended family stayed. We were offered a mattress on the floor, a pillow, and a lock on the door. This was all a step up from our accommodation at second home, which was an adobe shack with leaves for a roof.
After we settled in, Oxy took us for a tour of the village. They got electricity 10 years ago, we learned. We were introduced to his grandfather, who was weaving his umpteenth basket. He spit a mouthful of blood and smiled a red, toothless smile. I thought it was a great and inspiring thing to see an aging man accepting his lot and still working, staying active. Meghan was a bit freaked out.
Oxy took us to see a pig that was being caged. He told us it was awaiting slaughter once western medicine forsook one of the villagers, as it inevitably does. A sacrifice, to the village spirit. This perplexed me, as he said he had been a Buddhist monk. I had read about laypeople practicing Buddhism and Animism hand-in-hand without seeing any contradiction, but a monk, I thought, would be more disciplined in purer Buddhist teachings. "To the village spirit?" I asked. "Yes of course," was his reply. "Everything around us has a different spirit, and we must sacrifice to them and keep them happy. Even the electricity has a spirit." I did not inquire further.
Once the wonderful and humbling tour was over, we had dinner with Oxy and his friends. We bought everyone a round a beer and tried to play cards. It became a mix of a few games but achieved its purpose of making us laugh and breaking down the language barrier.
The next morning, we hopped the yellow truck to Pai, arriving by 11am. We found a riverside bungalow, complete with bathroom, for 6 bucks. We went out, had some lunch, and hit up the much-needed internet.
Pai is a town more by word of mouth than in its own right. It was once a sleepy village, but somehow hippie backpackers latched onto its lazy riverside appeal and its intentional isolation (the town matter-of-factly boasts that it is 762 mountainous curves from Chiang Mai). And while it is a beautiful town situated in the pristine northern Thai hillsides, it has little to attract Thais other than the opportunity to rub elbows with Westerners. The nightlife is first rate, though, and Meghan and I were happy to get sauced after 2 weeks of living the straightedge lifestyle.
One day, we rented motorbikes--Meghan's first experience was markedly better than mine--and went careening into the countryside. We went to Pai Canyon, which is a strange natural formation of reddish clay that made a puzzling maze of two-foot wide walkways with 100 foot dropoffs. I forced her to walk much farther than her comfort allowed and I loved seeing her squirm, especially when two retired ladies passed us along the way.
We also visited a WWII Memorial bridge as well as a few waterfalls. But the best part of the day was just cruising the countryside, passing elephants and flowered trees, letting the wind wash over us, and seeing Meghan smile from ear to ear. It was great.
Pai was too short, too sweet and Meghan and I headed back to Chiang Mai for just one night before heading to Laos!
The rules:
1) Breakfast at 7:45AM.
2) Organic Vegetarian food only.
3) Work if you desire, desire your work.
4) Cook what you want, eat what you cook.
5) Respect all living beings as sacred.
6) Group meditation at 7:30PM.
7) The Eightfold Path is your guide.
8) Above all, follow your bliss.
And it was fabulous. We weeded the crops, planted new ones, and built a clay herb garden.
In between work, we laid in hammocks, conversed in philosophy, practiced walking meditation and mindfulness, read, ate, and played with the dogs.
We walked to a neighboring village and passed out used shoes. Amazing the reception we got. Some of the happiest people I'd encountered up to that point, and that was just the welcome we received before we displayed our 'gifts'.
After meditations at night, I was the most tranquil I think I've ever naturally been. Calm and quiet. Slow movements. Silent walks into the field to lie down and ponder the infinite stars, the most of which I think I've ever seen. Contemplative DVDs, watching "The Power of Now with Eckhart Tolle"--highly recommended.
A marvelous 10 nights, which sadly, had to come to an end. Meghan and I said goodbye to the farm, which had truly become our second home, and caught a 6am yellow truck to Samoeng.
We got dropped off in Samoeng with a 2 hour wait for the truck headed to Pai, a once-sleepy hippie mountain village, now a staple stop along the backpacker tract. After a tortuous and tormentingly bumpy 5 hour ride, we stopped. Pai? Doesn't look like what we envisioned. The driver got out and pointed to the wat (temple) across the road. "You sleep. Tomorrow Pai". But its 3 in the afternoon! We want to go to Pai today! "Pai no. Watchan. You sleep." And then he hurried us out of the back of his pickup and took off. Great.
We looked around and found about a dozen or so villagers all staring at us. The guys drinking beer and smoking. The women running the shop. People on bikes stared at us as they passed. Even the dogs were drawn to us. Thankfully, we had been in Thailand long enough to not worry. Thai people are wonderful, and I felt totally safe. It was more of,0" wow, this is the most excitement/white people this village has seen in a while."
The villagers managed to track down an ex-Monk named Oxy who learned English in the monastery as well as working as a restaurant worker in Pai--which we learned was 70 kilometers away. So much for hiking or thumbing it. He was able to arrange a room for us behind the shop where we were dropped off. We walked through the shop, out the back, past the bathing grandparents, suckling puppies, and various farm animals, and up to the second floor of the backhouse. This was obviously where the large extended family stayed. We were offered a mattress on the floor, a pillow, and a lock on the door. This was all a step up from our accommodation at second home, which was an adobe shack with leaves for a roof.
After we settled in, Oxy took us for a tour of the village. They got electricity 10 years ago, we learned. We were introduced to his grandfather, who was weaving his umpteenth basket. He spit a mouthful of blood and smiled a red, toothless smile. I thought it was a great and inspiring thing to see an aging man accepting his lot and still working, staying active. Meghan was a bit freaked out.
Oxy took us to see a pig that was being caged. He told us it was awaiting slaughter once western medicine forsook one of the villagers, as it inevitably does. A sacrifice, to the village spirit. This perplexed me, as he said he had been a Buddhist monk. I had read about laypeople practicing Buddhism and Animism hand-in-hand without seeing any contradiction, but a monk, I thought, would be more disciplined in purer Buddhist teachings. "To the village spirit?" I asked. "Yes of course," was his reply. "Everything around us has a different spirit, and we must sacrifice to them and keep them happy. Even the electricity has a spirit." I did not inquire further.
Once the wonderful and humbling tour was over, we had dinner with Oxy and his friends. We bought everyone a round a beer and tried to play cards. It became a mix of a few games but achieved its purpose of making us laugh and breaking down the language barrier.
The next morning, we hopped the yellow truck to Pai, arriving by 11am. We found a riverside bungalow, complete with bathroom, for 6 bucks. We went out, had some lunch, and hit up the much-needed internet.
Pai is a town more by word of mouth than in its own right. It was once a sleepy village, but somehow hippie backpackers latched onto its lazy riverside appeal and its intentional isolation (the town matter-of-factly boasts that it is 762 mountainous curves from Chiang Mai). And while it is a beautiful town situated in the pristine northern Thai hillsides, it has little to attract Thais other than the opportunity to rub elbows with Westerners. The nightlife is first rate, though, and Meghan and I were happy to get sauced after 2 weeks of living the straightedge lifestyle.
One day, we rented motorbikes--Meghan's first experience was markedly better than mine--and went careening into the countryside. We went to Pai Canyon, which is a strange natural formation of reddish clay that made a puzzling maze of two-foot wide walkways with 100 foot dropoffs. I forced her to walk much farther than her comfort allowed and I loved seeing her squirm, especially when two retired ladies passed us along the way.
We also visited a WWII Memorial bridge as well as a few waterfalls. But the best part of the day was just cruising the countryside, passing elephants and flowered trees, letting the wind wash over us, and seeing Meghan smile from ear to ear. It was great.
Pai was too short, too sweet and Meghan and I headed back to Chiang Mai for just one night before heading to Laos!
