I am sitting on the bus to the airport. I just said goodbye to Ritchie. We made promises. He would visit Israel. We would stay friends for life. I hope this is all true. Jenny left for her new group this morning. The three of us were truly the three musketeers. We had a friendship and love that goes beyond words and I am forever grateful for that relationship. I feel like I have left something behind. Like my ipod is sitting on the dresser of the hotel still charging, like my toiletry bag is sitting on the bathroom vanity. Truth be told I am so exhausted right now it is a huge possibility that I forgot something, and its not just some psychosomatic, cliche for all the things I left behind. I liked who I was this past month and I hope I continue to be that person. I don't think I am different, just changed. I am looking forward to my life as a physician with an uncontrollable excitement. Witnessing the people of these countries and the joy that they hold despite the vast levels of poverty will forever stay with me as a lesson in humility and priorities.
I always feel like I am playing catch up with this journal. Admittedly it is a bit strange to be writing this after my trip has ended. I am filled with so many emotions from the end that it is difficult to give a good perspective on the trip itself. However, for the sake of finishing something I started I will do my best.
We arrived in Chang Dauc to find a rather sleepy river town. It became quickly clear that this town served as little more than a border crossing into Cambodia. It was a places that seemed untouched by tourism and has retained much of its old world charm. Our accommodations certainly reflected this but had a misbalance of too much old world and not enough charm. We took motobikes up a mountain to relax in hammocks, drink beer, and watch the sunset. This was quite a transition from my first motobike where I held on for dear life and imagined my mothers voice saying "Gary fell off the back of a motobike in the middle of Vietnam, we have to go there to claim the body" (She was shockingly calm about this). This time I held my arms free, raised them up like a roller-coaster, and gave people high-fives. We returned to the hotel to get some dinner. I ordered fish. This fish tank had four fish when we walked in to the restaurant and three when we walked out. I feel both omnipotent and ashamed.
I am happy to be leaving Vietnam. Everywhere I turn is a constant reminder of the war. This does not prove to beneficial for a relaxing vacation.
Me and Ritchie woke up at 5:00 am to grab some lunch for our boat ride and explore the morning market. Our efforts were fruitless, lunch was not available unless three day old grilled fish with bugs flying around it was at all appealing. We agree this early morning wake ups have gotten out of hand. We jumped on the boat and made our way through the Vietnam and Cambodia border checks. Entering Cambodia is like a breath of fresh air. It is nice to return to a religious country, it is something that comes through in the demeanor and energy of its people.
The afternoon is spent on the back of a cyclo being ushered around Phnom Phen. I have never felt like more of a tourist than when a man with a giant smile shouted at us "Welcome to Cambodia! Come see our poor people!!". Sarcasm is alive and well in Cambodia. As we were riding I looked up to see a bar that was as ivory tower as I could imagine, I was especially sensitive to it after our little interaction with the shouting man. I mumbled to myself "you will never find me there". I was overjoyed when our tour leader pulled over the cyclos, and ended our little trip to go get drinks in this fine establishment. Sarcasm is alive and well in Gary.
The following day was spent visiting sites that memorialized the atrocities of the Pol Pot regime, and the people lost in the tyranny. The last time I saw anything like this I was eighteen and in the polish death camps that killed my own people. Prisons. Killing fields. Instruments of death. An overwhelming morning.
We headed to lunch at a restaurant that supports a Cambodian orphanage. This was a nice reprieve from a rather difficult morning. After lunch we headed to a temple. I really missed visiting temples. While I visited some in Vietnam, they lacked the same spirit that was present in Laos and Thailand. It is much nicer to visit temples that are functioning temples, with monks roaming the grounds and people giving their alms.
I dragged everyone to a second temple where an eyebrow hair of Buddha had been buried. Lonely planet recommended skipping it, but it was more or less on the way. We walked around to the back and found the pagoda, where the hair had been buried. We were greeted by the most wonderful and smiley old man. He had such a warm presence and jumped up when we arrived. He took an immense amount of pride in the temple he kept and smiled ear to ear when simply saying its name. He unlocked the door of the pagoda and led us into a small alcove, where we ducked to get in. The room was cave-like, no larger than a walk in closet (not the MTV cribs walk in closet), with a large statue of Buddha taking up the bulk of the room. We kneeled in front of the statue and the man said a prayer and splashed us with holy water. The intimacy and authenticity of this moment made it one of my favorite experiences yet.
We jumped a tuk-tuk to the grand palace as it began to pour. When we arrived we found the palace had been closed two hours earlier than usual and seeing that we were leaving Phnom Phen the next morning we had missed it entirely. We grabbed another tuk-tuk and headed to a local market where me an Ritchie bought traditional Cambodian scarves called kramas. Cambodians use them for just about anything, from holding babies, covering heads, sarongs or towels. I used it to make me look more like a terrorist than I already do. Other tourists get nervous when I wear it - I find this hilarious and only continue to make it worse by covering my face with it. We finished the day by trying to find tarantula, a local delicacy, and failed so miserably we ended up at a Mexican restaurant. Worst margaritas ever.
The next morning we boarded a quick flight to Siem Reap home to one of the most impressive sites in the world the temples of Angkor Wat. After checking into the hotel we made our way to lunch. The afternoon began with intentions of visiting temple after temple and ended with the reality of much needed naps and massages. This was by far the best massage yet. This petite, sweet looking Cambodian girl beat the living shit out of me and almost had me in tears. No pain, no gain. We returned for a group dinner and went to bed for an early rise. Jenny showed up with breakfast and presents for us...Jenny is my favorite. We woke up at 3:45 am to make sunrise at Angkor Wat. When we arrived I separated from the group and sat with my ipod to watch in solitude. As the sun began to rise I saw one of mans greatest creations in the presence of one of Gods greatest creations. Tears streamed down my face. This moment was a culmination of so many things, my journey through Asia, and the beginning of my new life in Israel. I was filled with such a deep sense of gratitude and humility. Grateful for the things that were, and humbled by the things that are to come.
After touring the temples I was dropped off at a childrens hospital on the way back. The hospital is run by an eccentric swiss doctor who I will speak more of later, but who's philosophy is to ask the young travelers for blood, the old travelers for money, and everyone in between for both. While I am not that young, I am poor, and I have a good supply of blood. I suspect that giving blood in Cambodia wasn't the brightest of ideas, but leaving the donation room and seeing all the small children around the hospital made it worth it. I took a moto back to the hotel and a few of us went to the reservoir to swim. We were picked up by a tuk-tuk on the side of the road. When we arrived we hit a pot hole and the tire popped. The driver kept going. After he came to set us up with hammocks and tube we made plans to meet him later. We were the only westerners there, the hammocks were made of any left over fabrics and branches from trees driven into the ground. I decided not to swim for fear of infecting my wounds from giving blood. (yes wounds is plural, they missed the first few times).
Our driver returned an hour early from fixing his tire and I began talking to him about his life. He was 29 years old and had two kids. He had only bought tuk-tuk three months earlier and had saved for it by selling guide books on the street. He struggled to make ends meet because tuk-tuk drivers claim territories and he had none. He was very grateful for finding us on the road and told me that he was one the way back from giving alms to the monks. Through his charity he had profited ten-fold, Buddha was being good to him. It was nice to be a part of his miracle. We tipped him enough to pay for his tire as not to hinder his wonderful day in any way. We spent the afternoon touring more temples, each unique and magnificent. Dinner was spent celebrating our tour guides 29th birthday. Then we celebrated a bit more at the bar after dinner.
The next morning we saw more temples (you would think it gets old, it doesn't) and returned to the reservoir for some more R&R. In the evening several of us went to the childrens hospital. Every Saturday the swiss doctor who runs the hospital speaks, shows a film and plays his cello. I was incredibly happy that so many from our group ended up going. It was a heartbreaking thing to watch, but it gave us all a powerful sense of hope. I am so excited to become a doctor! The doctor played Kol Nidre, a Jewish prayer. It was an incredible thing to hear in the middle of Cambodia. Music, medicine, Judaism, everything that I am. I couldn't think of a better way to end my trip. We left the hospital and made a quick trip to the night market and called it a night.
Our last day together was spent on a twelve hour journey down unpaved muddy roads in Cambodia, crossing over into Thailand. Mud, gravel, and sludge make up this main highway. I thought the Jersey turnpike needed work. The majority of the group had taken the optional flight back to Bangkok for an extra few dollars, but at this point I just wanted to spend time with the people I was closest with, so we all took the bus. The drive proved to be a valuable one. It exposed us to a side of Cambodia we had not yet seen in the larger tourist cities. It is easy to get a misrepresented view by staying in the tourist hubs, but the poverty that exists in Cambodia is astonishing. Of the 24 provinces 23 are impoverished. The children are covered in dirty clothing, missing teeth, and open sores. Their parents train them to beg and some have gone so far as to grab hold of me and not let go. It is a constant internal struggle because while you feel manipulated, and you are angered by the parents, you also know they need it. Some times I would give and watch them run to their parents immediately with the cash, as their parents gave them a pat on the head. Walking along the streets late at night it is not uncommon to find families sprawled out sleeping across the sidewalk - and in the end this is why I continued to give. Hopefully, one day, I will come back and give something more substantial.
We arrived in Bangkok in record time and all took a moment to be shocked, depressed, mystified that our trip had come full circle and was only hours from being over. We went out for one last dinner as a group then went out drinking, it wasn't clear whether this was celebratory or mournful, but alcohol is always good at blurring lines. The rest of the evening was riddled with twists and turns that led to a bit of a dramatic end, but whats a good story without a powerful ending?
I woke up at six to take Jenny to her next group. She cried. I fought it. With her leaving it was the end of our trio, and the end of the trip. I decided to walk back to the hotel to reflect a bit. As I walked back I remembered I had seen a sign for the local Chabad House. I decided that after all the temples it was time to come home. Wrapping my self in teffilin and covering myself in a tallis even in Bangkok felt right, felt comfortable, felt like home. After all my traveling I realized that so much of what we search for is there all along, but a good reminder always helps. The rest of the day was a haze, we went to the palace, had lunch and massages, but my mind was elsewhere. Ritchie took me to my bus, and that leaves me here.
Twenty-Something Hours Later
I am less than an hour from landing. My traveling has ended, but the journey is really just beginning. Cliche, I know, but what's not cliche about going to Asia and finding some enlightenment.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Saigon - Hoi An and Ho Chi Minh City
Vietnam
Hoi An is a simple, yet vibrant river town, it is a step away from the insanity that is generally Vietnam. While the marks of the war still remain they are less pronounced than other places. We spent our last morning at the My Son ruins. We woke up at 5 am, and returned by 11:30 am. This early morning thing is eating my soul.
I loved being in Hoi An. From getting my suit made and hanging with my little assistant Krista who I had cracking up the entire time with my winning American sense of humor (read: she humored me) and sunbathing on a beach that once served as an American military base, while discussing the war with locals I will carry these moments with me for a long time.
We hopped a flight to Saigon (aka Ho Chi Minh City). Throughout the flight a small asian man felt it necessary to repeatedly let out a single hacking, wheezing cough directly into my ear without covering his mouth. I am undoubtedly carrying the SARs virus.
We arrived in Saigon and made our way to our rather humble accommodations, we made the move to a much nicer hotel, with a much nicer view to get some overpriced drinks. This was like dangling cake in front of a diabetic fat kid with a sweet tooth.
It was an early night as some of us were still groggy from the 5 am wake up from My Son, compounded with the flight. We awoke the next morning to visit the Cu Chi tunnels, a network of tunnels (read: crawl space) that the VietCong had organized to use for guerrilla warfare tactics. As we walked around it became increasingly apparent why we lost the war. The combination of the brilliantly laid out tunnels, and the commitment of the soldiers that stayed underground for months on end was certainly a force to be reckoned with. As I walked through the newly laid out path through the jungle I couldn't help to imagine the mindset of the 18 year old boys who walked through with no path, young, naive, and stoned. I thought about myself at eighteen and questioned my capability to hold my own in a place like this. Gunshots began to sound, I thought it was my imagination, but as it turned out there was a gun range on the site. Tourists were able to shoot guns from the war for a small fee - being the pacifist that I am I jumped at the opportunity. I mean honestly, when am I ever going to shoot a gun again? The closest I had ever been to a gun before was when I cop pulled me over for using my cellphone. The guns were locked into place, I suspect this is because they still don't trust Americans with guns, but it took a bit away from the authenticity of my gun experience, the upside is that it took away a good chunk of the recoil, which was still powerful. Lets just say that the idea of shooting a gun, is far better than the actual act of doing it. My ears were ringing my, hands were shaking, and I felt both a power and a weakness that seems entirely unique to shooting a gun.
The most interesting part of our tour was our guide, a Vietnamese man named Hai who had served as an interpreter for the Americans during the war. He spoke of Vietnam with more honesty and candor than I had yet seen in this country. When he found out I was American he gave me a hug, and told me of his deep sentiment towards the American soldiers. "We laughed together, we starved together, I was the designated driver sometimes". He referred to a film on the tunnel network as "typical Vietnam war propaganda" and described the communism as "in name only". Hai served almost four years in a "re-education camp" and an additional year in confinement for his assistance to the Americans.
We returned from the tunnels and made our way to the War Remnants Museum, formerly called the American War Crimes Museum. The grounds of the museum are littered with American war machines, tanks, plans, guns etc. There was a side room filled with pictures of American soldiers that proved to be one of the least biased exhibitions I had seen since I had been in the country. The main exhibition featured pictures on victims of napalm and Agent Orange, even deformed fetuses stored in formaldehyde. Truth be told however it is not difficult to see the effects of these poisons by simply walking the streets of Vietnam. Everywhere are men and women in their forties with handicaps, clearly a direct result of American actions.
I was a bit annoyed to see a quote used below one of the pictures as though it was a piece of journalism. The reality was the quote had been taken from Jack Kerouacs 'On The Road'. The war crimes are bad enough that manipulation isn't necessary, but once gain I found myself in the position of defending an indefensible war.
If you ever end up at the museum listen to Masters of War by Bob Dylan as you are walking around. In fact if you end up at any war museum put it on. In fact just listen to it now, and then try to figure out what the hell is going on in Iraq.
Vietnam has become a constant reminder of a war I am not responsible for but still carry a burden for as an American tourist. While the Iraq war is different in many ways the parallels exist. It is a war that lacks true reason, based simply on principles that lack any real foundation, and it is a war that my generation let happen. As one walks through the streets of Vietnam it begs the questions "How?" and "Why?", it is within those questions that we find common ground between these two battles.
We walked over to the reunification palace where where northern battle tanks crashed through the gates at the end of the war. The architecture and design was pure 1970's bliss complete with plush carpeting, and a room straight out of Shaft. To finish off the day we saw a church, a Hindu temple and grabbed some dinner and then some drinks. At about 1:30 in the morning a four year old boy jumped on the pool table and began dancing with skills that could out do most professional dancers. I was too tired to realize that this qualifies as abuse on about a million different levels - at least Ritchie and Jenny had the good sense to call me out when I started video taping it.
Some people left the group, some joined.
Hoi An is a simple, yet vibrant river town, it is a step away from the insanity that is generally Vietnam. While the marks of the war still remain they are less pronounced than other places. We spent our last morning at the My Son ruins. We woke up at 5 am, and returned by 11:30 am. This early morning thing is eating my soul.
I loved being in Hoi An. From getting my suit made and hanging with my little assistant Krista who I had cracking up the entire time with my winning American sense of humor (read: she humored me) and sunbathing on a beach that once served as an American military base, while discussing the war with locals I will carry these moments with me for a long time.
We hopped a flight to Saigon (aka Ho Chi Minh City). Throughout the flight a small asian man felt it necessary to repeatedly let out a single hacking, wheezing cough directly into my ear without covering his mouth. I am undoubtedly carrying the SARs virus.
We arrived in Saigon and made our way to our rather humble accommodations, we made the move to a much nicer hotel, with a much nicer view to get some overpriced drinks. This was like dangling cake in front of a diabetic fat kid with a sweet tooth.
It was an early night as some of us were still groggy from the 5 am wake up from My Son, compounded with the flight. We awoke the next morning to visit the Cu Chi tunnels, a network of tunnels (read: crawl space) that the VietCong had organized to use for guerrilla warfare tactics. As we walked around it became increasingly apparent why we lost the war. The combination of the brilliantly laid out tunnels, and the commitment of the soldiers that stayed underground for months on end was certainly a force to be reckoned with. As I walked through the newly laid out path through the jungle I couldn't help to imagine the mindset of the 18 year old boys who walked through with no path, young, naive, and stoned. I thought about myself at eighteen and questioned my capability to hold my own in a place like this. Gunshots began to sound, I thought it was my imagination, but as it turned out there was a gun range on the site. Tourists were able to shoot guns from the war for a small fee - being the pacifist that I am I jumped at the opportunity. I mean honestly, when am I ever going to shoot a gun again? The closest I had ever been to a gun before was when I cop pulled me over for using my cellphone. The guns were locked into place, I suspect this is because they still don't trust Americans with guns, but it took a bit away from the authenticity of my gun experience, the upside is that it took away a good chunk of the recoil, which was still powerful. Lets just say that the idea of shooting a gun, is far better than the actual act of doing it. My ears were ringing my, hands were shaking, and I felt both a power and a weakness that seems entirely unique to shooting a gun.
The most interesting part of our tour was our guide, a Vietnamese man named Hai who had served as an interpreter for the Americans during the war. He spoke of Vietnam with more honesty and candor than I had yet seen in this country. When he found out I was American he gave me a hug, and told me of his deep sentiment towards the American soldiers. "We laughed together, we starved together, I was the designated driver sometimes". He referred to a film on the tunnel network as "typical Vietnam war propaganda" and described the communism as "in name only". Hai served almost four years in a "re-education camp" and an additional year in confinement for his assistance to the Americans.
We returned from the tunnels and made our way to the War Remnants Museum, formerly called the American War Crimes Museum. The grounds of the museum are littered with American war machines, tanks, plans, guns etc. There was a side room filled with pictures of American soldiers that proved to be one of the least biased exhibitions I had seen since I had been in the country. The main exhibition featured pictures on victims of napalm and Agent Orange, even deformed fetuses stored in formaldehyde. Truth be told however it is not difficult to see the effects of these poisons by simply walking the streets of Vietnam. Everywhere are men and women in their forties with handicaps, clearly a direct result of American actions.
I was a bit annoyed to see a quote used below one of the pictures as though it was a piece of journalism. The reality was the quote had been taken from Jack Kerouacs 'On The Road'. The war crimes are bad enough that manipulation isn't necessary, but once gain I found myself in the position of defending an indefensible war.
If you ever end up at the museum listen to Masters of War by Bob Dylan as you are walking around. In fact if you end up at any war museum put it on. In fact just listen to it now, and then try to figure out what the hell is going on in Iraq.
Vietnam has become a constant reminder of a war I am not responsible for but still carry a burden for as an American tourist. While the Iraq war is different in many ways the parallels exist. It is a war that lacks true reason, based simply on principles that lack any real foundation, and it is a war that my generation let happen. As one walks through the streets of Vietnam it begs the questions "How?" and "Why?", it is within those questions that we find common ground between these two battles.
We walked over to the reunification palace where where northern battle tanks crashed through the gates at the end of the war. The architecture and design was pure 1970's bliss complete with plush carpeting, and a room straight out of Shaft. To finish off the day we saw a church, a Hindu temple and grabbed some dinner and then some drinks. At about 1:30 in the morning a four year old boy jumped on the pool table and began dancing with skills that could out do most professional dancers. I was too tired to realize that this qualifies as abuse on about a million different levels - at least Ritchie and Jenny had the good sense to call me out when I started video taping it.
Some people left the group, some joined.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Welcome to Vietnam
It's been almost a week since I have written. The task of writing my last entry was a daunting one (read: incredibly annoying) and I think subconsciously forced me to stop. This is only slightly less annoying than catching up on a weeks worth of material and in the nature of Asia I will seek personal Zen by keeping it relatively short.
When I last wrote we had just arrived in Vang Vieng. A bizarre little town built solely for alcoholic backpackers. It reminded me of the scene in Pinocchio where he goes to the city of vices and somehow turns into a donkey (in retrospect Disney movies are a lot darker than I remember).It was surreal. We were situated in a hotel along the river. A beautiful thing to wake up to. I jokingly proposed to Jenny on the waterside restaurant as all the tables turned and watched - some screamed "say yes!". They were, of course, slightly perturbed when they discovered it was a joke.
We went tubing the next day along the river. This is what you do in Vang Vieng. This is the only thing to do in Vang Vieng. This is not the Laos I adore, but its an amazing amount of fun. There are about twenty bars along the river, with everything from beer to milkshakes with hallucinogenic mushrooms mixed in. City of vices. A winning combination of strong current, drugs, alcohol and stupid young kids makes for a fun day, unless you drown, than not so fun. No one in our group drowned so fun day.
After tubing we explored we walked around the city. The restaurants are insane, they are build solely for tourist with bed like tables, and "Friends" playing on all the TV screens. It is easy to spend three hours there watching one episode after the next. In all honesty, I had a very hard time with this. As much fun as I had, a part of me feels that this is everything that is wrong with backpacking, and tourism. We are destroying cultures under the misguided representation of "building economies". I fear what it will be like ten years from now. I fear that the drug problems will be worse, and the children will be just as educated as before.
Ritchie, Jenny and I awoke the next morning early to head to an organic restaurant famous for their mulberry shakes, and pancakes, made from mulberries grown 3 km outside of town. The fame is well deserved. Even a week later we still talk about them everyday. I suspect that eating mulberry pancakes is as close to enlightenment as I will get.
We boarded our bus for a four hour drive to Vientane, the capital of Laos. When we arrived Ritchie and I had to run to the Vietnam Embassy, he had forgotten to get a visa, and mine was for a day late. This was preceded by a comedy of errors and insanity that involved broken ATM machines, and a woman in a travel agency telling us the embassy was closed for the day. Once arriving, the actual process went smoothly.
Our evening began with a meal along the water. When I asked where the bathroom was she pointed below the dock and giggled. We made our way over to a bar called Wind West, with a wild west theme, This was consistent with the Laos mastery of english language (I saw a restaurant, on the following day, that had a sign that read "food with delicious smell and testes). It was a cool bar, with live music, we were the only tourists which made it especially nice. Saurabh and I went exploring to find more bars, and left the group for a few minutes. We came across one bar and he walked into look while I stayed out side. He ran out and insisted we go there. It was a Laos karaoke bar. I am a Soffer, we go where the karaoke is. We grabbed the group, four guys and Jenny and made our way over. As we walked in we were greeted with such love and warmth, that if I wasn't in Laos I would have been suspect. This would turn out to be a major mistake. Twenty minutes later Saurabh returned from the bathroom and informed us that he had been grabbed in a not so public area by a strange looking sixty year old woman. We were shocked and laughed our asses off. While I wanted to avoid the bathroom after this incident anyone that knows about the combination of my bladder and booze knows that this is an impossibility. As I went I kept a watchful eye. I heard the door open and before I knew it I had the same woman with her and on my shoulder. Unlike Saurabh I was able to deduce that while she wore a dress and a wig, this was no woman. I zipped my pants up before I could stop peeing and pushed her off before she could say "You like? Yes?" one more time. At least she didn't grab me in my special spot, but the pee spot on my leg wasn't flattering. When I returned I was told we would be singing karaoke next, the song was chosen by Saurabh, and it would be a suprise. As we got up on stage and began to sing the words of one of Lionel Ritchies hits I looked around and realized something peculiar. The only woman at the bar wasn't born that way, and all of the men seemed to be enjoying our rendition of the gayest song in the history of man. "Saurabh you took us to a fucking gay bar" we all said in unison as we made our way off of stage. Apparently, I was not the only one who noticed. This was of course followed up by the obligatory "not that there is anything wrong with that". We stayed another fifteen minutes to avoid feeling homophobic and made our way back to the hotel.
The next day me and Ritchie made up for the lost time spent at the Vietnam Embassy and saw some temples and Laos national symbol the Golden Pagoda.
In the evening we took a flight to Hanoi, exiting Laos and entering Hanoi.
Hanoi is the antithesis to Laos and their similarities start and stop at their loyalties to communism.
In Laos they speak little of the government and consistently live humbly. In Hanoi they revere Ho Chi Minh but there is a very apparent class divide.
The city is fast moving and intense. Motorbikes clog the roads and the only way to cross the street is to close your eyes and hope for the best. I have found an incredible amount of peace in crossing the streets for whatever reason. The world just seems to go around you. Aside from the Temple of literature, this will be the only peace I find in Hanoi. The the Temple of Literature, a tribute built for Confucious, was an important sight for me as it holds education sacred and is home to an early medical school. Hundreds of steles in honor of the doctors who graduated there have been erected. Most people rub them for good health, I rubbed them for the next four years. A music show played in one of the courtyards and in that moment of music and medicine I felt at peace.
We went to the "Hanoi Hilton", the jail where John McCain and several other troops were held during the Vietnam War (or American War as they call it here). It was where the French once tortured the Vietnamese, and where the Vietnamese tortured us. The level of propaganda was astounding, showing pictures of American soldiers enjoying themselves, and even citing the "Hanoi Hilton" as proof, ignoring the irony in which it stemmed from. We also visited Ho Chi Minhs mausoleum where is bodied is embalmed and put on display. All I could think of is my cadaver next year.
This was the last night for two group members that I had grown quite fond of, Saurabh and Kason. We at one of Hanoi's finest restaurants and went out dancing and drinking to enjoy our last night together.
In the morning we took our bus to a boat that would take us along Halong Bay. There is not much to say about this part of the journey except Halong Bay is easily one of the most incredible sights I have ever seen. Google it, look at pictures, but it doesn't even capture how beautiful it really is.
We returned to Hanoi for the afternoon and then made our way to Hue. I was grateful to be leaving Hanoi.
Our overnight train was the most basic of conditions I had seen since sleeping in the villages. It made the Chaing Mai night train look like the plaza.
After arriving in Hue we went across the street to have some breakfast where I got to hold the one month old grand-daughter of the shop keeper. I got her to stop crying, she loved me. She was so beautiful! I hummed the lullaby my mom sang to me as a child and she slept peacefully in my arms. The rest of our day was spent on a motorbike tour through the city of Hue. I rode on the back of a motorbike, and while it took some getting used to (ie not shitting myself), it one of the best days yet. We had an incredible vegetarian lunch at a buddhist nunnery and saw several sights including a small coliseum where tigers and elephants fought to the death.
The next morning we saw the Citadel where the Tet offensive took place. and then Imperial City. We took our bus to Hoi An. Hoi An is an incredible town. I was fitted for a custom linen suit (think Jay-Z....pimp). Yesterday we went snorkeling and hung out on the beach. We are leaving for a few minutes to have the final tailoring done on our clothing, and then we will go to sleep early to see sunrise at My Son. Its a rough life I have.
When I last wrote we had just arrived in Vang Vieng. A bizarre little town built solely for alcoholic backpackers. It reminded me of the scene in Pinocchio where he goes to the city of vices and somehow turns into a donkey (in retrospect Disney movies are a lot darker than I remember).It was surreal. We were situated in a hotel along the river. A beautiful thing to wake up to. I jokingly proposed to Jenny on the waterside restaurant as all the tables turned and watched - some screamed "say yes!". They were, of course, slightly perturbed when they discovered it was a joke.
We went tubing the next day along the river. This is what you do in Vang Vieng. This is the only thing to do in Vang Vieng. This is not the Laos I adore, but its an amazing amount of fun. There are about twenty bars along the river, with everything from beer to milkshakes with hallucinogenic mushrooms mixed in. City of vices. A winning combination of strong current, drugs, alcohol and stupid young kids makes for a fun day, unless you drown, than not so fun. No one in our group drowned so fun day.
After tubing we explored we walked around the city. The restaurants are insane, they are build solely for tourist with bed like tables, and "Friends" playing on all the TV screens. It is easy to spend three hours there watching one episode after the next. In all honesty, I had a very hard time with this. As much fun as I had, a part of me feels that this is everything that is wrong with backpacking, and tourism. We are destroying cultures under the misguided representation of "building economies". I fear what it will be like ten years from now. I fear that the drug problems will be worse, and the children will be just as educated as before.
Ritchie, Jenny and I awoke the next morning early to head to an organic restaurant famous for their mulberry shakes, and pancakes, made from mulberries grown 3 km outside of town. The fame is well deserved. Even a week later we still talk about them everyday. I suspect that eating mulberry pancakes is as close to enlightenment as I will get.
We boarded our bus for a four hour drive to Vientane, the capital of Laos. When we arrived Ritchie and I had to run to the Vietnam Embassy, he had forgotten to get a visa, and mine was for a day late. This was preceded by a comedy of errors and insanity that involved broken ATM machines, and a woman in a travel agency telling us the embassy was closed for the day. Once arriving, the actual process went smoothly.
Our evening began with a meal along the water. When I asked where the bathroom was she pointed below the dock and giggled. We made our way over to a bar called Wind West, with a wild west theme, This was consistent with the Laos mastery of english language (I saw a restaurant, on the following day, that had a sign that read "food with delicious smell and testes). It was a cool bar, with live music, we were the only tourists which made it especially nice. Saurabh and I went exploring to find more bars, and left the group for a few minutes. We came across one bar and he walked into look while I stayed out side. He ran out and insisted we go there. It was a Laos karaoke bar. I am a Soffer, we go where the karaoke is. We grabbed the group, four guys and Jenny and made our way over. As we walked in we were greeted with such love and warmth, that if I wasn't in Laos I would have been suspect. This would turn out to be a major mistake. Twenty minutes later Saurabh returned from the bathroom and informed us that he had been grabbed in a not so public area by a strange looking sixty year old woman. We were shocked and laughed our asses off. While I wanted to avoid the bathroom after this incident anyone that knows about the combination of my bladder and booze knows that this is an impossibility. As I went I kept a watchful eye. I heard the door open and before I knew it I had the same woman with her and on my shoulder. Unlike Saurabh I was able to deduce that while she wore a dress and a wig, this was no woman. I zipped my pants up before I could stop peeing and pushed her off before she could say "You like? Yes?" one more time. At least she didn't grab me in my special spot, but the pee spot on my leg wasn't flattering. When I returned I was told we would be singing karaoke next, the song was chosen by Saurabh, and it would be a suprise. As we got up on stage and began to sing the words of one of Lionel Ritchies hits I looked around and realized something peculiar. The only woman at the bar wasn't born that way, and all of the men seemed to be enjoying our rendition of the gayest song in the history of man. "Saurabh you took us to a fucking gay bar" we all said in unison as we made our way off of stage. Apparently, I was not the only one who noticed. This was of course followed up by the obligatory "not that there is anything wrong with that". We stayed another fifteen minutes to avoid feeling homophobic and made our way back to the hotel.
The next day me and Ritchie made up for the lost time spent at the Vietnam Embassy and saw some temples and Laos national symbol the Golden Pagoda.
In the evening we took a flight to Hanoi, exiting Laos and entering Hanoi.
Hanoi is the antithesis to Laos and their similarities start and stop at their loyalties to communism.
In Laos they speak little of the government and consistently live humbly. In Hanoi they revere Ho Chi Minh but there is a very apparent class divide.
The city is fast moving and intense. Motorbikes clog the roads and the only way to cross the street is to close your eyes and hope for the best. I have found an incredible amount of peace in crossing the streets for whatever reason. The world just seems to go around you. Aside from the Temple of literature, this will be the only peace I find in Hanoi. The the Temple of Literature, a tribute built for Confucious, was an important sight for me as it holds education sacred and is home to an early medical school. Hundreds of steles in honor of the doctors who graduated there have been erected. Most people rub them for good health, I rubbed them for the next four years. A music show played in one of the courtyards and in that moment of music and medicine I felt at peace.
We went to the "Hanoi Hilton", the jail where John McCain and several other troops were held during the Vietnam War (or American War as they call it here). It was where the French once tortured the Vietnamese, and where the Vietnamese tortured us. The level of propaganda was astounding, showing pictures of American soldiers enjoying themselves, and even citing the "Hanoi Hilton" as proof, ignoring the irony in which it stemmed from. We also visited Ho Chi Minhs mausoleum where is bodied is embalmed and put on display. All I could think of is my cadaver next year.
This was the last night for two group members that I had grown quite fond of, Saurabh and Kason. We at one of Hanoi's finest restaurants and went out dancing and drinking to enjoy our last night together.
In the morning we took our bus to a boat that would take us along Halong Bay. There is not much to say about this part of the journey except Halong Bay is easily one of the most incredible sights I have ever seen. Google it, look at pictures, but it doesn't even capture how beautiful it really is.
We returned to Hanoi for the afternoon and then made our way to Hue. I was grateful to be leaving Hanoi.
Our overnight train was the most basic of conditions I had seen since sleeping in the villages. It made the Chaing Mai night train look like the plaza.
After arriving in Hue we went across the street to have some breakfast where I got to hold the one month old grand-daughter of the shop keeper. I got her to stop crying, she loved me. She was so beautiful! I hummed the lullaby my mom sang to me as a child and she slept peacefully in my arms. The rest of our day was spent on a motorbike tour through the city of Hue. I rode on the back of a motorbike, and while it took some getting used to (ie not shitting myself), it one of the best days yet. We had an incredible vegetarian lunch at a buddhist nunnery and saw several sights including a small coliseum where tigers and elephants fought to the death.
The next morning we saw the Citadel where the Tet offensive took place. and then Imperial City. We took our bus to Hoi An. Hoi An is an incredible town. I was fitted for a custom linen suit (think Jay-Z....pimp). Yesterday we went snorkeling and hung out on the beach. We are leaving for a few minutes to have the final tailoring done on our clothing, and then we will go to sleep early to see sunrise at My Son. Its a rough life I have.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Playing Catch-Up
Be warned...this will be long. Internet access is lacking, but I have been writing in my journal - this is just a typed out version of that.
Enroute to Chaing Khan - Bus
I did what all great travelers do, I bought a cheap guitar. It was a stupid and impulsive purchase but one I can't force myself to regret. Granted Woody and Bob never rode in the back of an air-conditioned bus but I am a traveling minstrel now.
Today was a day of vices, I had an incredible breakfast in a small cafe, in an alley off of a side road in Chaing Mai. I had my first Thai massage (or Thai beatdown depending on how you see it). In my euphoric state of poor judgement I walked into a music shop and just bought the guitar. I didn't want it, but I needed it. I am getting carsick....more later.
Chaing Khan
We arrived in Chaing Khan and found our guest house situated along the Mekong. Despite the murky nature of the water, the sight was simply breathtaking (cliche...I know). Me and Ritchie pulled out our guitars, both deciding that if we were sitting on the delta, any delta, the blues were in order. We are both very white. Case in point. We made our way to dinner on the other side of town and grabbed dinner. Our last night in Thailand required some cheers. I danced like a retard, with Collete, an Irish corporate attorney with a good sense of Irish wit, I had profound religious conversations with Jenny, one of my new favorites, and laughed my ass off when one of our fellow travelers dropped his lens cap down the sewer and had half of the city lifting cinder blocks to get it out. The kindness and generosity of the Thai was at it's best in that moment. The night ended with yours truly making his best attempt to open a broken window and shattering it entirely. (Only in Thailand do you tell the receptionist and not only doesn't she charge you but profoundly apologizes).
The next morning we made our way down to the river, first stopping at the Thai passport check. We took a glorified row boat with a motor attached across to Laos. Upon arriving you could already feel a different energy. There is afeeling about Laos that is indescribable. It is undiscovered. My last tour guide AJ said "You want to see Thailand fifty years ago, you go Laos". After making it through customs and exchanging some moneyt we took tacis to our boat that would bring us to our overnight stay in Bak Beng. The ride was amazing, and while I have found for many it is no more than a means of getting from point A to point B the boat trip is a highlight for me. The boat belongs to a family, there is a newborn girl that they allowed me to hold. She sleeps quietly, frequently smiles and rarely cries. She is beautiful. I wonder how they look at their children, future doctors, and lawyers, or fisherman and craftsmen?
Traveling along the Mekong I have seen beauty and serenity I have never experienced. In the US, even in the most remote parts there will usually be a sign, or a building to break the landscape. In Laos the greatest signs of civilization are huts and farms in the mountains, or fishing nets along the river. It is a country that has only been open to touring for a few years and while there is certainly an impact from tourism, it is minimal compared to Thailand.
I finished one book, and made it half-way through another, sunbathed, talked more religion to Jenny, played more music with Ritchie, and used some acrobats and bravery to make it to the front of the boat where I was alone.
Bak Beng
Bak Beng is a small town along the river. It has reinvented itself for tourists with one major resort and several guest houses. Most electricity is run on generators and only works from 6pm to 10pm. I anticipated a rather sweaty sleep and a cold shower in the morning. No complaints - it is all in the name of adventure. The group decided to go to an Indian restaurant in town but Ritchie and I decided an authentic Laos meal was in order. At the advice of our day guide we went to a small restaurant. For six dollars we ate like kings. The restaurant was humble, and the columns to the entrance were two old American bombs. Laos was bombed millions of times during the Vietnam war, and this served as a painful reminder of the scars we left behind. I drank some Laos whiskey which qualified as the harshest alcohol I have ever tasted. It burned my mouth, my throat, my stomach, and then made its way back to burn anything it missed in the form of acid reflux.
I went to bed early as to enjoy the last few minutes of the fan, and in order to wake up early.
We awoke to the sound of a rooster crowing in a nearby farm. This is both the best and worst way to wake up in the morning. We headed to the morning market and we were able to watch the monks collecting alms in the morning. Monks will eat one meal a day, and it is only what is given to them by the villagers. The market was unlike any we had seen thus far. It was not built for tourists, but for the people of the village. The smell of fresh coriander, and the sight of freshly slaughtered cows were overwhelming to the senses, and good perspective of the everyday lives of people in Laos.
We boarded our boat again for eight hours as we made our way to Laung Prabang.
Caves
We made quick stop to ancient caves which house four thousand statues of Buddha. We climbed the stairs in the pouring rain as the local children hid under the rock overhangs. We are warriors for Buddha!!
Luang Prabang
We arrived into Laung Prabang, went out for dinner, did some shopping, and ended up at a Laos only discotheque. A totally bizarre experience. Think 1950 catholic school dance with Laos rock music. Hilarious.
Luang Prabang - enroute to waterfalls
I am writing this on the back of a songtail (essentially a pick-up truck with seats). My handwriting is a mess, I am getting sick, but I must write. I cried. I cried in front of a woman I barely knew. I was in a western cafe (which our tour guide brings us to frequently, and drives those seeking authenticity absolutely insane), I saw a sign that this cafe supported local workers, gave them job training, and high pay as a means of avoiding drugs and prostitution...this made the lack of authenticity and bad bagels worth it. I began to speak with the store manager, a powerful looking woman from phili with striking white hair and a shirt to match. She told me that they had put together a boarding house for girls who work in the store. She also told me that she herself started a day care for the children, providing the kids with Montessori education, and introducing good nutrition. My face lit up at the sound of a daycare, and since we had a free day I asked if I could come in and volunteer. She told me that she no longer allowed western guests because she once allowed a doctor to come visit who turned out to be a pedophile. I cried, I had no control. I was ashamed. Maybe as a westerner, maybe as a future doctor. She told me that no kids were harmed. Thank God.
Laung Prabang - Returning from the waterfalls
From the lowest of the low to the highest of the high. Our trip to the waterfall qualifies as one the the greatest moments of my life. I am overwhelmed and humbled by them. There are moments in your life that are totally indescribable, maybe Hemingway could do it, but he just gets too wordy for me. So I will keep it at "incredible" and let you see the pictures. I overcame my fear of heights, and jumped off of a branch fifteen feet above the bed of the waterfall. I did not however overcome my ability to scream like a little bitch.
I found out that watching a Laos ceremony called Baci is a must. Thank you Lonely Planet. The Royal Ballet usually performs one but it was canceled for tonight. I spoke with our local guide, Lam, and he was able to arrange for a group of people to perform one for us. I was able to get the entire travel group on board, even for the high fee of $150 (I'm not being sarcastic, that is a shit load of money here).
We went into town for a bit to book day trips, and returned to the hotel to meet Lam. He walked us across the street to a restaurant, where we headed to the back. We found small stage adorned with carpets, where we removed our shoes and sat. In front of us was ten elders, and a large ceremonial piece covered in flowers, string, and sweets. These people had the most wonderful smiles, so wonderful that their missing teeth didn't even seem out of place. Lam explained the ceremony, and it was then begun with a prayer. The elders came around, and took the string from the ceremonial piece and tied it on our wrists. Ten on each wrist in total. It was nice to have them tie it, because in that moment there was a personal connection. The last for me was the oldest man of the bunch whose spirit and warmth I can only hope to carry when I am his age. The ceremony is intended for someone beginning a journey, or a new chapter in their life as means of balancing the spirit world with the physical. With this next year quickly approaching this was especially meaningful. Finally, the floral arrangement was presented to a guest of honor, which the group chose me as a delegate for since I organized it. I am supposed to bring it to a temple to present as a gift. In the meantime it is sitting next to the TV in my hotel room, serving as a bizarre paradox.
Bust enroute to Vang Vieng from Luang Prabang
Maybe it is because I'm sadistic or maybe its because I truly enjoy it but I subjected myself to another trek yesterday. We left the city early in the morning and made it to our base camp, and elephant park. The trek began with a less than challenging walk along a frequently visited road (as told by the ATV tracks). We arrived at a village, and ate lunch with the elder, and I pulled out one of the two loaves of sweet bread I had bought earlier in the morning. They were appreciative of the gesture. We left the village after lunch for what I expected to be another casual hike. This, obviously, would prove to be misguided. It had appeared that the shrub along the trail had not been cut for several weeks, and considering the speed at which the green grows we were hiking on a six inch wide trail ducking to avoid thorn brush. The insanity was only compounded with the fact that just as we began to climb the most vertical portion of the trek monsoon season kindly kicked in. So rather than a six inch trail he hiked along a six inch stream that was a slippery and wet mess. Going down was far more intense than going up and by the end I was covered in scratches, bruises and lots of mud. It was well worth it. We made our way to a home in the middle of nowhere and then a bit more to our final village. There was no intention of stopping here as we had already been running late, but as we approached the dock it became clear that there was no boat to meet us. Now I swear to you that cellphone service is accessible everywhere, it is insane that I can't get service in my apartment but in a remote mountain outside a small city in a small country it is crystal clear reception. This, however, was not the case in this particular village and our guide was forced to leave us to find a boat. This gave me ample opportunity to nurse my sore knee. As we sat there the children of the village began surround us. I pulled out the second loaf of sweet bread and began to share with them. They swarmed me and I handed out piece after piece - each getting a touch smaller as to make sure each child had seconds and thirds. I began taking pictures of them and showing them the results on my screen. They freaked! Laughter smiles, everything you could hope to see in children living in such squalor. I moved from photos to videos and the joy on their faces was incredible. I grew bored of this and put them on my feet and grabbed there wrists. I swung them high into the air as they laughed, smiled, and clamored for another ride. There boat finally arrived just as my legs were growing numb. This did not end up serving as a proper rest for my knee, but it was good for my soul so I think its a pretty fair trade off. We took the boat to see waterfalls, which were aesthetically incredible, and provided a much needed wash up. Our trip came to an end and we headed back into town for a much needed massage. I had a full body massage, a steam herbal rub and mani/pedi (shut up....don't say anything) for twenty dollars. It is a rough life I have.
This morning I write you in a small village two hours away from Luang Prabang. The breaks of our bus have died and we must wait two hours for a new one to arrive. This is Laos time which means three hours, at least.
Later
We are on a new bus, thank God we didn't take the old one. If you think route 1 in california is bad try the road from LP to VV. Two feet from the cliff with no divider. I have spent the entire trip planning my survival tactic if the bus flipped. I committed to a plan in which I will place my body in the window and allow the bus to flip over me. I saw it in a cartoon once. This of course requires me to keep the window open for the entirety of the trip but for the sake of my life I suffer.
Later than later
I arrived in VV, I am in an internet cafe writing way too much, and not spell checking or rereading. Much love to everyone who made it this far!
Enroute to Chaing Khan - Bus
I did what all great travelers do, I bought a cheap guitar. It was a stupid and impulsive purchase but one I can't force myself to regret. Granted Woody and Bob never rode in the back of an air-conditioned bus but I am a traveling minstrel now.
Today was a day of vices, I had an incredible breakfast in a small cafe, in an alley off of a side road in Chaing Mai. I had my first Thai massage (or Thai beatdown depending on how you see it). In my euphoric state of poor judgement I walked into a music shop and just bought the guitar. I didn't want it, but I needed it. I am getting carsick....more later.
Chaing Khan
We arrived in Chaing Khan and found our guest house situated along the Mekong. Despite the murky nature of the water, the sight was simply breathtaking (cliche...I know). Me and Ritchie pulled out our guitars, both deciding that if we were sitting on the delta, any delta, the blues were in order. We are both very white. Case in point. We made our way to dinner on the other side of town and grabbed dinner. Our last night in Thailand required some cheers. I danced like a retard, with Collete, an Irish corporate attorney with a good sense of Irish wit, I had profound religious conversations with Jenny, one of my new favorites, and laughed my ass off when one of our fellow travelers dropped his lens cap down the sewer and had half of the city lifting cinder blocks to get it out. The kindness and generosity of the Thai was at it's best in that moment. The night ended with yours truly making his best attempt to open a broken window and shattering it entirely. (Only in Thailand do you tell the receptionist and not only doesn't she charge you but profoundly apologizes).
The next morning we made our way down to the river, first stopping at the Thai passport check. We took a glorified row boat with a motor attached across to Laos. Upon arriving you could already feel a different energy. There is afeeling about Laos that is indescribable. It is undiscovered. My last tour guide AJ said "You want to see Thailand fifty years ago, you go Laos". After making it through customs and exchanging some moneyt we took tacis to our boat that would bring us to our overnight stay in Bak Beng. The ride was amazing, and while I have found for many it is no more than a means of getting from point A to point B the boat trip is a highlight for me. The boat belongs to a family, there is a newborn girl that they allowed me to hold. She sleeps quietly, frequently smiles and rarely cries. She is beautiful. I wonder how they look at their children, future doctors, and lawyers, or fisherman and craftsmen?
Traveling along the Mekong I have seen beauty and serenity I have never experienced. In the US, even in the most remote parts there will usually be a sign, or a building to break the landscape. In Laos the greatest signs of civilization are huts and farms in the mountains, or fishing nets along the river. It is a country that has only been open to touring for a few years and while there is certainly an impact from tourism, it is minimal compared to Thailand.
I finished one book, and made it half-way through another, sunbathed, talked more religion to Jenny, played more music with Ritchie, and used some acrobats and bravery to make it to the front of the boat where I was alone.
Bak Beng
Bak Beng is a small town along the river. It has reinvented itself for tourists with one major resort and several guest houses. Most electricity is run on generators and only works from 6pm to 10pm. I anticipated a rather sweaty sleep and a cold shower in the morning. No complaints - it is all in the name of adventure. The group decided to go to an Indian restaurant in town but Ritchie and I decided an authentic Laos meal was in order. At the advice of our day guide we went to a small restaurant. For six dollars we ate like kings. The restaurant was humble, and the columns to the entrance were two old American bombs. Laos was bombed millions of times during the Vietnam war, and this served as a painful reminder of the scars we left behind. I drank some Laos whiskey which qualified as the harshest alcohol I have ever tasted. It burned my mouth, my throat, my stomach, and then made its way back to burn anything it missed in the form of acid reflux.
I went to bed early as to enjoy the last few minutes of the fan, and in order to wake up early.
We awoke to the sound of a rooster crowing in a nearby farm. This is both the best and worst way to wake up in the morning. We headed to the morning market and we were able to watch the monks collecting alms in the morning. Monks will eat one meal a day, and it is only what is given to them by the villagers. The market was unlike any we had seen thus far. It was not built for tourists, but for the people of the village. The smell of fresh coriander, and the sight of freshly slaughtered cows were overwhelming to the senses, and good perspective of the everyday lives of people in Laos.
We boarded our boat again for eight hours as we made our way to Laung Prabang.
Caves
We made quick stop to ancient caves which house four thousand statues of Buddha. We climbed the stairs in the pouring rain as the local children hid under the rock overhangs. We are warriors for Buddha!!
Luang Prabang
We arrived into Laung Prabang, went out for dinner, did some shopping, and ended up at a Laos only discotheque. A totally bizarre experience. Think 1950 catholic school dance with Laos rock music. Hilarious.
Luang Prabang - enroute to waterfalls
I am writing this on the back of a songtail (essentially a pick-up truck with seats). My handwriting is a mess, I am getting sick, but I must write. I cried. I cried in front of a woman I barely knew. I was in a western cafe (which our tour guide brings us to frequently, and drives those seeking authenticity absolutely insane), I saw a sign that this cafe supported local workers, gave them job training, and high pay as a means of avoiding drugs and prostitution...this made the lack of authenticity and bad bagels worth it. I began to speak with the store manager, a powerful looking woman from phili with striking white hair and a shirt to match. She told me that they had put together a boarding house for girls who work in the store. She also told me that she herself started a day care for the children, providing the kids with Montessori education, and introducing good nutrition. My face lit up at the sound of a daycare, and since we had a free day I asked if I could come in and volunteer. She told me that she no longer allowed western guests because she once allowed a doctor to come visit who turned out to be a pedophile. I cried, I had no control. I was ashamed. Maybe as a westerner, maybe as a future doctor. She told me that no kids were harmed. Thank God.
Laung Prabang - Returning from the waterfalls
From the lowest of the low to the highest of the high. Our trip to the waterfall qualifies as one the the greatest moments of my life. I am overwhelmed and humbled by them. There are moments in your life that are totally indescribable, maybe Hemingway could do it, but he just gets too wordy for me. So I will keep it at "incredible" and let you see the pictures. I overcame my fear of heights, and jumped off of a branch fifteen feet above the bed of the waterfall. I did not however overcome my ability to scream like a little bitch.
I found out that watching a Laos ceremony called Baci is a must. Thank you Lonely Planet. The Royal Ballet usually performs one but it was canceled for tonight. I spoke with our local guide, Lam, and he was able to arrange for a group of people to perform one for us. I was able to get the entire travel group on board, even for the high fee of $150 (I'm not being sarcastic, that is a shit load of money here).
We went into town for a bit to book day trips, and returned to the hotel to meet Lam. He walked us across the street to a restaurant, where we headed to the back. We found small stage adorned with carpets, where we removed our shoes and sat. In front of us was ten elders, and a large ceremonial piece covered in flowers, string, and sweets. These people had the most wonderful smiles, so wonderful that their missing teeth didn't even seem out of place. Lam explained the ceremony, and it was then begun with a prayer. The elders came around, and took the string from the ceremonial piece and tied it on our wrists. Ten on each wrist in total. It was nice to have them tie it, because in that moment there was a personal connection. The last for me was the oldest man of the bunch whose spirit and warmth I can only hope to carry when I am his age. The ceremony is intended for someone beginning a journey, or a new chapter in their life as means of balancing the spirit world with the physical. With this next year quickly approaching this was especially meaningful. Finally, the floral arrangement was presented to a guest of honor, which the group chose me as a delegate for since I organized it. I am supposed to bring it to a temple to present as a gift. In the meantime it is sitting next to the TV in my hotel room, serving as a bizarre paradox.
Bust enroute to Vang Vieng from Luang Prabang
Maybe it is because I'm sadistic or maybe its because I truly enjoy it but I subjected myself to another trek yesterday. We left the city early in the morning and made it to our base camp, and elephant park. The trek began with a less than challenging walk along a frequently visited road (as told by the ATV tracks). We arrived at a village, and ate lunch with the elder, and I pulled out one of the two loaves of sweet bread I had bought earlier in the morning. They were appreciative of the gesture. We left the village after lunch for what I expected to be another casual hike. This, obviously, would prove to be misguided. It had appeared that the shrub along the trail had not been cut for several weeks, and considering the speed at which the green grows we were hiking on a six inch wide trail ducking to avoid thorn brush. The insanity was only compounded with the fact that just as we began to climb the most vertical portion of the trek monsoon season kindly kicked in. So rather than a six inch trail he hiked along a six inch stream that was a slippery and wet mess. Going down was far more intense than going up and by the end I was covered in scratches, bruises and lots of mud. It was well worth it. We made our way to a home in the middle of nowhere and then a bit more to our final village. There was no intention of stopping here as we had already been running late, but as we approached the dock it became clear that there was no boat to meet us. Now I swear to you that cellphone service is accessible everywhere, it is insane that I can't get service in my apartment but in a remote mountain outside a small city in a small country it is crystal clear reception. This, however, was not the case in this particular village and our guide was forced to leave us to find a boat. This gave me ample opportunity to nurse my sore knee. As we sat there the children of the village began surround us. I pulled out the second loaf of sweet bread and began to share with them. They swarmed me and I handed out piece after piece - each getting a touch smaller as to make sure each child had seconds and thirds. I began taking pictures of them and showing them the results on my screen. They freaked! Laughter smiles, everything you could hope to see in children living in such squalor. I moved from photos to videos and the joy on their faces was incredible. I grew bored of this and put them on my feet and grabbed there wrists. I swung them high into the air as they laughed, smiled, and clamored for another ride. There boat finally arrived just as my legs were growing numb. This did not end up serving as a proper rest for my knee, but it was good for my soul so I think its a pretty fair trade off. We took the boat to see waterfalls, which were aesthetically incredible, and provided a much needed wash up. Our trip came to an end and we headed back into town for a much needed massage. I had a full body massage, a steam herbal rub and mani/pedi (shut up....don't say anything) for twenty dollars. It is a rough life I have.
This morning I write you in a small village two hours away from Luang Prabang. The breaks of our bus have died and we must wait two hours for a new one to arrive. This is Laos time which means three hours, at least.
Later
We are on a new bus, thank God we didn't take the old one. If you think route 1 in california is bad try the road from LP to VV. Two feet from the cliff with no divider. I have spent the entire trip planning my survival tactic if the bus flipped. I committed to a plan in which I will place my body in the window and allow the bus to flip over me. I saw it in a cartoon once. This of course requires me to keep the window open for the entirety of the trip but for the sake of my life I suffer.
Later than later
I arrived in VV, I am in an internet cafe writing way too much, and not spell checking or rereading. Much love to everyone who made it this far!
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