No Regrets!

Voy was ready for us at 7am. We wolfed down breakfast and then headed into Angkor. It was cool and hazy, perfect for exploring wats and better than the sweltering heat tourists have to put up with at other times during the year.

The three-day pass was US$40, very expensive by Cambodian standards. They must be making a crapload of money on this place. I hope it is going to the right people and being put to good use.

The dirt road to the wat was just being paved for the first time. The first sign of mass commercialism? The drive took us past monkeys, chickens, dogs with large nipples, male workers leaning over and cutting the grass with machetes, and female workers doing their best to sweep up the scraps with brooms and sticks.

As soon as the tuk-tuk stopped in the parking lot across from Angkor Wat, we were swarmed by kids selling guidebooks, postcards, bracelets, scarves, all the usual crap.

Since we got there pretty early, there weren’t a lot of people there yet, which was great for photos. They let you bring tripods in, which is nice. Business idea: At every major attraction around the world, rent tripods to tourists at the front entrance. Tripods a pain to lug around in your baggage and around town, and if people knew they could just rent them at the attractions where they needed them most, you’d save them a lot of aggravation.

After walking through a gate, Angkor Wat revealed itself to us. Familiar with iconic photos of the structure, I was able to figure out exactly where people were standing when they got those shots. I begin snapping some of my own. I was disappointed to see scaffolding on top of Angkor Wat, but after taking another look and some older photos, it looks like that scaffolding has been there for years.

Angkor Wat has a certain beauty to it, for sure. The architecture is impressive, but it’s the intricate details like decorated columns and carved Buddha images that make you stop and look. The ruins reminded me a lot of Peru’s Machu Picchu, although these are a little bit older. The stonework is old, worn (especially on the spots where people frequently step), and covered with lichen.

And it’s massive. It took us several hours to walk around the whole thing. Of course, much of that time was spent waiting for tourists to get out of the way so I could snap my photos.

The exit to the left of the wat took you past perhaps the most aggressive souvenir hawkers we’d seen the whole trip. More of the same crap.

“Hello, sir! Look, sir! Cold drink for you!” the mothers would call from their stands, while their cute but annoying kids ran over and danced around us, shoving t-shirts and bracelets and carved elephants and guide books in our faces.

“Sir, you buy now!”

“No, thanks.”

“OK, you buy from me.”

“No, thanks.”

“Good price for you, sir.”

“No, thanks.”

“Discount for you!”

“No, thanks.”

“Look, sir. Good book for you.”

“No, thanks.”

“Look, sir. Scarf for you. Get scarf for girlfriend.”

“No, thanks.”

If you keep walking, the kids fall off one by one, but they are replaced by new kids offering the exact same stuff and saying the exact same things as the kids before. It’s absurd.

Some of these kids are pretty smart. Some of pull your heartstrings by being cute and saying they have not had a sale all day. Others will ask for your name and then remember you minutes or hours later in an attempt to make the sale a bit more personal. Still others will ask you where you’re from and say that you must buy something from them if they can name your country’s capital. I thought I had one girl when I told her I was from Czechoslovakia, but she was quick with a response.

“If I tell you capital of Czech Republic or Slovakia, will you buy something from me?”

If you catch their interest and distract them from selling for just a moment, they are actually quite capable of conversation and humor. But they are not deterred for long.

The good thing is that I don’t think they’re allowed to come inside the wats. Some of them push it, but they stay out for the most part. It’s the walk to the wat and back to the tuk-tuk when you’re caught in the crossfire. Ignoring them is really the only way to deal with them, but pointing my camera at them is sometimes an effective repellent.

I was surprised to learn that Angkor is filled with many wats, each with similar stonework, repeated floor plans, and narrow steps that force you to go up or down slowly and with your feet sideways. In Voy’s tuk-tuk, we started knocking them off our list. He’d drop us off, and we’d get out, zip past the swarming souvenir kids, walk past the band of land mine victims playing music with their traditional Khmer instruments, hop around the wat, take some photos, walk past the band of land mine victims playing music with their traditional Khmer instruments, zip past the swarming souvenir kids, get back into the tuk-tuk, and go to the next one.

Along with the classic beauty of Angkor Wat, the architecture of Bayon and the twisted roots covering Ta Prohm were my favorites.

I am taking a veritable crapload of photos. When we stopped for lunch, I realized that my camera’s memory cards were almost full and both of my rechargeable camera batteries were dead. This required a trip out of Angkor and back to the guest house to empty my cards and charge up my batteries. Bit of an inconvenience, but a necessary one. I’m not going to look at all these beautiful wats if I can’t photograph them. And I don’t think I’m the only one who feels that way. Lots of guys are walking around with cameras and lenses that put mine to shame. My D300 is having feelings of inadequacy.

After a few more wats, we joined hordes of other tourists atop Phnom Bakheng for the sunset. Like the night before, the sun glowed red and then disappeared into the haze before touching the horizon. I am beginning to realize the haze is more like smog and that there’s actually a pretty bad air pollution problem here.

We called it a day and headed back to the guest house to clean up. Then, off to Pub Street for dinner and drinks. And that’s where we are now.

Doug and I are sitting at a restaurant called Le Tigre de Papier. It’s one of many on Pub Street here in Siem Reap that offer free wifi with a meal. Just ordered penne al salmone, and we are sipping (in a manly way) the best pina coladas we’ve had all trip. So surreal that I am sitting outside at a restaurant in Cambodia with my laptop and I am online.

I’m feeling a bit under the weather today. Some kind of throat/nose thing. Malaria? Dengue fever? Too much rice? Air pollution? Maybe a good night’s sleep will help.

Just came back from Pub Street. Seems like a pretty nice little strip of bars. First a pretty good Khmer dinner and then a drink at “Angkor What?”, a popular bar on the strip.

Cambodia is definitely the cheapest place we’ve been. The local currency, the riel, is so unstable and worthless that it’s hardly used. Instead, prices everywhere are quoted in US dollars. Meals cost about US$3 and a rum & coke costs US$1.50. Walking up and down the strip, Doug was offered boom-boom and yum-yum by a woman giving off the pimp vibe. He did not get a price for boom-boom, but yum-yum was US$30, and that included a massage.

The tuk-tuk drivers will swarm to you like flies to shit as soon as you get out of another tuk-tuk. They hover outside restaurants, asking you as soon as you step outside. They will ask you if you want one even if they just saw you turn another driver down. Relentless.

We picked a place to eat and people-watch. Like all the other restaurants in Southeast Asia, the menu was ridiculously huge and unorganized. Bigger is not better. We settled on some more Khmer food, and it was pretty tasty.

When it was time to go, we started talking to the drivers. Our ride form the guest house to Pub Street cost us US$1, so we were determined to pay the same to come home. The drivers wanted $2, then $1.50. Then they wanted to talk to us about how fair the price was, and then they started talking to us about how it was late and it cost more than $1 when it’s late. All BS. With 18 drivers behind them wanting our business, they had no ground to stand on.

Doug and I committed to finding a driver who wasn’t annoying and would take us for US$1. Finally, one of them reluctantly accepted. When we arrived at the guest house, I gave the driver an extra $1 tip as a kind of thank you for not being annoying. The expression on his face was priceless. Doug and I are determined to make the tuk-tuk experience a little better for future travelers to Southeast Asia.

Doug is now trying to get a gecko out of the room by smacking on the door with a remote control. Good night.

In the morning, we settled the bill with Paul and talked photography before getting a list to the airport. After arriving at the airport, I was relieved to find that the Vietnam Airlines flight does in fact exist.

Take-off on the Fokker 70 was quick and smooth. The stewardess announced that we would be flying at a cruising altitude of 70,000 feet. What is this, a U-2 spy plane?

In the air, we were given a “Refreshing Tissue,” a cold, wet napkin wrapped in single-serving plastic packaging that I guess you’re supposed to use to wipe your face and hands. We’ve had them on all of our Southeast Asian flights. For lunch, we were served a sandwich filled with what I found to be extremely sketchy meat. I don’t know what part of what animal it came from, but it was cut like salami, and each slice was perfectly edged with a ring of fat. I peeled the fat off each piece before eating the sandwich.

The haze cleared as we descended, revealing the flat, brown, watery landscape of Cambodia below. After we landed, the captain come over the speakers.

“Laze and tulman, welcome to Cambodia.”

Doug prepared our tourist visas online, so immigration was a breeze. A tuk-tuk driver was sent from Bousavy, our reserved guest house, to pick us up. He was there holding a sign with my name on it (Doug loves that). His name was Voy, and he was all smiles.

We hopped into Voy’s luxury tuk-tuk and headed into town. The sun was warm and the air was fresh on the way to the guest house. Felt good to be done with the chilliness in Laos. As we left the airport, we passed some magnificently decorated hotels.

Orientation in this town is pretty easy. The airport is west side of town, and there’s a main road into the city center. Our guest house is on that just off that road. A road north from the city center runs to Angkor, and a road south takes you to Tonlé Sap (TAWN-lay SAP), a huge lake in the middle of Cambodia.

At the guest house, Voy checked us in, got us each a milkshake, gave us maps, and helped us lay out our itinerary for our stay in Siem Reap. Very helpful fellow.

The room at Bousavy is pretty good. Doug and I have separate beds (thank goodness). The shower is the same as all the others we’ve had, but the wooden bathroom door has buckled and split, giving the other guy a peep show if he sits in just the right spot (the left side of Doug’s bed).

Had quick traditional Khmer lunch. Despite the hair in my meal (and only the third hair I’ve found in my food on this trip), the green amok fish in a banana leaf was quite delicious.

On request, Voy drove us into town to visit the outdoor markets. The roads are noisy, dusty, just as chaotic as Bangkok. Scooters and tuk-tuks and cars and trucks and vans fight for lane space. Intersections are a free-for-all. I read that lots of people are injured or killed on the roads, but I’m surprised it’s not more. Craziness. Stray chickens and dogs everywhere.

The market was filled with table after table of all the crap souvenirs you’d expect to find. All Cambodian men and most women wear long pants. Like Laos, the majority of tourists here are English and Australian. Mostly families and couples.

Then down to Tonlé Sap, where villages of families live in floating houses on the water. The drive through Siem Reap took us out of the city and through bright green rice fields.

Our boat was one of many waiting to take tourists to the floating villages. Doug and I had a boat to ourselves.

The floating village was our first look at traditional life that seemed at least a little bit authentic. Photographically, it was fantastic. Kids waved and giggled as we cruised by, others in houses and boats looked at us in curiosity. The people who live in these villages must see a ton of tourists going through there, but they don’t seem jaded or bored with it. And they weren’t hawking souvenirs. There was a natural beauty to that place.

After the village, we headed out to the open sea to watch the sun set on the water. The ghostly sun disappeared in the haze before it ever touched the horizon.

Voy seems like a pretty stand-up guy, and his prices seem in line with what people have been paying for similar services on the Internet. He’s offered to be our personal driver for our stay in Siem Reap, and I think we’ll take him up on his offer.

We picked up the Cambodian basics today:

hello : soo is sidai
thank you very much : aw kuhn chih doan
very delicious : chingon na

Off to Pub Street, seemingly the center of nightlife in Siem Reap. Tomorrow, we’re up very early for a day in Angkor.

It’s amazing how quickly the temperature drops when the sun goes down and how quickly it warms up again in the morning. While it’s frigid at night, each day is perfect.

We started our day by making it down to the dock on the Mekong to catch our ride to the caves at Pak Ou. Wasn’t really a dock, though. More like a section of mud and rocks on the riverside where all the boats are tightly crammed next to each other.

The ride up the Mekong was frigid. It was early morning, and the light fog hadn’t quite burned off yet. The seats on the slowboat were covered, and a chilly breeze blew through. The hour-long ride was a little uncomfortable.

Along the way, we stopped at Ban Xang Hai, better known as “Whisky Village.” Wouldn’t you know it, but walk through the “traditional” village was an exercise in souvenir hocking. Stands on both sides of the path sold scarves, bracelets, elephants, and assorted Cambodian trinkets.

While they all wanted to sell you something, the village was filled with lots of very cute, very happy kids.

I know why there are so many black and white photos of people in Southeast Asia. Many of the people in these villages wear Disney or other souvenir sweatshirts and t-shirts with the most awful colors splashed all over them. Black and white photos subtract the colors and make these people seem more traditional and timeless.

Back in the boat, we continued on to the caves. In the Mekong, water bottles and plastic jugs tied to ropes marked the spots on the river with shallow rocks.

After parking the boat, we were led up a steep staircase and accosted by kids selling bracelets, cookies (I didn’t see my Oreos), and LIVE CHICKS chirping away in miniature teak cages. What tourist is going to buy one of those?

The caves were underwhelming. They are very shallow and unlit and were filled with thousands of miniature Buddha figurines, but it wasn’t anything special.

My skinned knee has made some of these activities difficult. It has disgustingly scabbed over and become oozy, making my daily walks a little uncomfortable, especially when wearing jeans. Unfortunately, jeans are a necessity when it’s frigid in the mornings or when we need to go inside wats. I don’t have cool cargo Transformer pants like Doug. If I can get through 24 hours without having my oozing scab stick to the inside of my jeans and rip off, it’s a good day.

On the way back to the boat, the same kids badgered us again to buy chicks. Do they think that the cave somehow inspired me to buy a chicken? I wonder if it’s possible to go anywhere in Southeast Asia without being surrounded by young children and their mothers selling crappy souvenirs.

The boat ride back was a lot more pleasant. The sun had burned of the fog and was now filling a perfectly clear sky.

We got back just in time for a quick crepe lunch and a ride to the Kuang Si waterfall just outside of town. We shared a minivan with seven other silent tourists.

The waterfall was the best we’ve seen so far in Southeast Asia. A path through the jungle took us to several different levels, each one photogenic.

At a picnic table next to the water, a group of Australian backpackers was feeding a dog chicken bones from their lunch. I didn’t want to butt in, but I couldn’t help myself.

“You shouldn’t feed the dog chicken bones.”

“Ya, we know, but he just looked so cute and so hungry. Look at him, he’s starving.”

“Better starving than dead, don’t you think?”

“Well, if he’s starving, he was going to die anyway.”

You can’t argue with idiots. Just before leaving, Doug climbed a tree and did a spectacular dive into one of the waterfall’s turquoise-blue lagoons. Well done!

The parking lot for the waterfall is filled with souvenir stands and kitchens, all selling and serving the same crap. You’ll never here as many sabaidee’s as you do when you approach a row of souvenir stands.

On way back from waterfalls, we stopped at a “traditional” Hmong village that was (surprise!) filled with chickens and souvenir stands and cute kids who want your money.

After returning to town, Doug and I skipped down (not literally) to the Mekong and witnessed a magnificent sunset with almost no one around. Screw you, Lonely Planet!

We grabbed a decent dinner at a restaurant cleverly named “The Pizza.” Then a Lao massage, slightly disappointing since all they do is push their fingers into you. Doug and I prefer rubbing.

We came home tonight to find our room smelling like rancid ass. After some sniffing around, I deduced that the rancid ass smell was coming from our bathroom/shower hybrid, and not our stuff. Which is good, since Doug and I are on the road together for another few days.

Luang Prabang has been hyped up by friends and travel guides alike for its undiscovered beauty, but I’m afraid it has been discovered. Seemingly skyrocketing prices along with tourist booking offices and souvenir stands ad nauseam are a testament to that. There is still a charm and beauty to it, but im afraid it’s well on it’s way to being spoiled by commercialism.

Off to Siem Reap in the morning on a Vietnam Airlines flight that I booked here through a travel agent but strangely cannot find on any travel web site, not even the Vietnam Airlines site.

After a much-needed full night’s sleep, Doug woke up feeling better and I woke up refreshed. Went to breakfast at a little café around the corner that has wifi.

While Doug was getting some Internet time, I took a walk down the street and up some steps, finding a wat with a couple of older monks chatting right at the top. I motioned with my camera as if to ask them if I could take pictures, and they gave me a friendly little nod.

The oldest monk seemed to enjoy getting his photo taken, rushing over me to see them on the little screen on my camera after every few shots. He held my arm to get a closer look and giggled as I scrolled through them.

We tried conversing, but he knew no English and I know no Lao. The only thing we truly understood is that we couldn’t understand each other. He seemed really interested in my watch, though, pointing to it and discussing with his friend what he thought all of the numbers and letter meant (I think).

A few moments later, one of the younger monks came over to me and introduced himself. He spoke a bit of English. His name was Bhun Khung (a guess on the spelling). He was 16 and all smiles, beginning the conversation by asking me if I had a wife and then if I had a girlfriend.

One his friends, Douang Chan, came over to join the conversation. His English was superb. He asked me where I’m from, where I’ve been, and what I’ve seen around Luang Prabang. He’s never been on a plane before, and he’s never seen snow before (which I find hard to believe considering how cold it gets here at night). He studied computers for two years while in school and wants to be a tour guide when he grows up. The wat I was standing in, and their home, is called Wat That Noy.

I gave both of them a business card, and Douang Chan even wrote down his e-mail address for me. I promised to send him some of the photos I took when I get home. How weird is it that I’m going to send an e-mail to a Buddhist monk?

I decided to rush back to the café to grab Doug and introduce him to my new friends. I brought him back, introduced them, thanked them for their time, and then set off to explore Luang Prabang with Doug.

We made a quick trip to the Royal Palace Museum but didn’t go in since they charge admission and force you to check all of your bags and expensive camera equipment (no thanks). We visited a few random wats and continued walking through Luang Prabang.

Sakkarin, Luang Prabang’s main street, has tourist activity booking and airline ticket offices everywhere. The gaps in between are filled with souvenir shops and mostly mediocre restaurants. Every doorway has the same stained wood signage with gold lettering. And just like in Thailand and Laos, there are stray dogs everywhere. The dogs here have outrageously large nipples.

Looking at the English transliterations of the Lao language on signs and menus, the Lao language looks like a weird mix of Thai, Chinese, Indian, and French. You can definitely see some of the French influence on the signage around town. Some of it has Lao and French but no English.

We stopped for lunch at a little crepe stand on Sakkarin. While the girl was squirting some sauce out of a plastic bottle and onto a crepe, it made a farting noise. Knowing I was watching her, she peered up and I gave her a look. She giggled. Fart humor is universal.

While eating our crepes, a very cute little girl came up to us to sell us bracelets out of the little box hanging from our chest. She asked 47 times, and as much as I wanted to help the little girl, I declined. A young boy, maybe her brother, joined us and realized I was not going to budge. Suddenly, they both started saying “Cookie! Cookie!” and pointing inside the store. I wanted to make the kids happy, so I went into the store. Of course, each of them pointed to the largest party-size box of Oreos they could find, and they each wanted their own box. I told them I would only get them a smaller package and that they would have to share. After some scowls, they accepted. I bought the cookies, they dropped the package into their box, and they skipped out without opening it. I’m thinking they went to sell it for a profit. Pretty smart, these kids.

Walking around Luang Prabang are two types of people. You have the younger hippie backpackers wearing the hippie uniform: loosely fitting, minimally patterned, frayed and tattered clothing, and “hey look at me I’m crunchy” dreadlocks. You also have a lot of older guys with big-ass cameras, many of which put mine to shame.

Made it to the tip of the Luang Prabang peninsula to cross the bridge over the Nam Khan River. The bridge was built by a local family and is privately owned, so they charge a small fee to cross. I don’t like contributing to the local economy by buying shitty souvenirs, but if someone has made an effort to improve things for tourists, I’m more than happy to. We crossed over for a quick look at the confluence of the Nam Khan and Mekong rivers.

Heading back into town, we stopped at Wat Xieng Thong, the oldest and largest in Luang Prabang. Kinda cool.

Then off to climb Phu Si, the hill in the center of town offering a 360 view of the city and the spot Lonely Planet suggested was the best place to watch the sunset. With all my camera gear and oozing knee, the climb up 300 or so steps was a bit grueling. Uncomfortably crammed onto the viewing platform at the top were about 200 other tourists who had the same idea. We had to wedge ourselves between people and hang off a rock to get a decent look at the setting sun.

Then a quick stroll through the Night Market.

Had larb lao for dinner, which is amazing if you like onions and sprouts. I think I’ve given up on Lao food. We paid for our meal in Thai baht, getting our change in kip, the official currency here in Lao. The kip is more or less worthless. At the current rate of 8500 kip to US$1, meals cost about 30,000 kip (US$3.50), a rum and coke costs about the same. I have a 500 kip bill in my wallet that is worth 6 cents.

After dinner, we headed over to Hive Bar, which played cheesy trance music and was nearly empty. Cheap drinks and an attempt at coolness are worth something, though. By that time, it was very cold outside, so we huddled around the little clay pots with burning coals to heat up before braving the walk back to our guest house. Late at night, the roads of Luang Prabang are cold, quiet, and empty.

Overall, the Lao people seem very friendly and happy, especially the kids. Over the course of the day, we learned the customary Lao greetings, some of which sound a bit Thai:

sabaidee : hello
kop chai lalai : thank you very much
larcone : goodbye
num lai : very beautiful
sep lai : very delicious

Unfortunately, the innocence of the Lao people was slightly tarnished by the sketchy guy offering us weed and a “Lao lady” on our walk back to the guest house.

For tomorrow, we’ve booked a boat ride up the Mekong to see some caves and a half-day trip to waterfalls in the jungle.

“Cockle-doodle-doo!”

At the crack of dawn this morning, a rooster started screaming. Once every ten seconds for about an hour.

“Cockle-doodle-doo!”

Sounded like he was standing right outside our door. I wanted to kill it.

“Cockle-doodle-doo!”

I rifled through my bags in the dark for about 20 minutes looking for my Air France earplugs. Just when I found them, the rooster stopped.

The sound of construction on the other side of our room picked up where the rooster left off. I open the window and see that it is not construction, but a kid banging on a metal spot with a spoon. I wanted to kill him.

For a few moments, the pot-banging would stop, replaced by a man having extreme difficulty clearing his throat. Then, through the front door, hammering. And then, through the window, the sound of somebody wretching. Maybe the same guy who was trying to clear his throat. Now, the rooster is at it again. I am too awake to use the earplugs.

“Cockle-doodle-doo!”

Very chilly this morning. I can see my breath.

Today, we’ll explore Luang Prabang by bicycle, visiting some wats and hiking up the hill in the middle of town called Phu Si (POO-SEE). Add jokes here.

Just before heading to the airport, Doug and I treated ourselves to another massage at a place recommended by Peter. He told us they were the best massages in Chiang Mai, but the place looked like it was set up in an abandoned dentist’s office on some random back road. The rooms were frigid and smelled like gym socks, and the massages were only mediocre. Doug and I vowed to get at least one more quality massage before we come home.

We got to the airport not having booked any accommodation in Luang Prabang. Since most immigration officials require an intended address while visiting a country, I was starting to get a bit nervous. We fired off a bunch of e-mails to any guest houses that we could find online with the dates we needed to stay and our flight information. One of the guest houses I found was run by a photographer named Paul Wager (take a look, he’s got quality stuff). Even though the positive review about it said that it was not officially open yet, I sent off an e-mail anyway. Just to put something, we picked a random guest house address for our immigration papers.

We boarded our flight and took off. Laos Airlines served us some kind of fried fish sandwich, which wasn’t half bad. In the air, I was a bit stressed about finding a place to stay for the night. Doug was care-free, fumbling with his Rubik’s Cube. After two weeks, he has one side done and almost a second.

Before we knew it, we descended through the clouds and haze, revealing Luang Prabang to be a comfortable town nestled within lush, green mountains. Didn’t really know what to expect. All I know that it was highly recommended by my cousin Eric and a bunch of people who had posted to online forums. Only an hour’s flight from Chiang Mai, we figured why not.

After landing, they let us walk around the tarmac a bit and take pictures. Very cool.

Then off to immigration, where I got the shaft for being Canadian. For some reason, Laos visas for people from Canada are more expensive than for any other country in the world. Why?

We walked outside to search for a place with Internet so that I could find a guest house. Standing just outside the door, what do I see but the smiling face of Paul Wager and a big sign with my name on it in his hands. Sometimes it just happens.

Paul let us to his truck and introduced us to his Laotian wife, Joy. On the ride to the guest house, he told us a little about his five years in Laos. He came here, loved it, presumably met his wife, and never left. We started talking photography learned that he’s been published in National Geographic, Travel & Leisure, and other popular magazines. After reminding him that there are a lot of people who want to do what he’s doing, he offered to help me out in any way he can, starting with telling me where to go in Luang Prabang to get the best shots and then giving me advice about how to get established in the industry.

The guest house is in the middle of town. He showed us to our room, smallish but comfortable. He didn’t have any twin rooms left, so Doug and I get to share a rather cozy queen size bed. Doug was overjoyed to find yet another shower head without shower doors in our bathroom.

Paul also lent us a couple of bicycles to get around town. Mine offers no mechanical advantage, has no brakes, and has a pretty little basket on the front if it. We ran out to see the town before it got dark, getting down to the Mekong River just in time for sunset.

At a restaurant called Yongkhoune, we had some traditional Laos food for dinner (beef and chicken orlam), and neither of us really liked it. Doug, who has been a little under the weather for a few days now, has cramps. There seem to be enough backpackers here to sustain a nightlife, but we’re going to take it easy tonight. Pretty full day tomorrow in Luang Prabang.

Our last full day in Chiang Mai consisted of an elephant show (funny), an elephant ride trough the jungle (bumpy), an ox cart ride (very bumpy), and bamboo rafting (called “lafting” by Peter) at Maetaman Elephant Camp. Laughs all around when, while on our elephant ride, the animal in front of us dropped about 50 pounds of shit into the river and I said, in perfect Thai, “arroy ma,” meaning “very delicious.”

After each activity, the only way out was through a cluster of souvenir stands, all selling the same crap as each other and what we saw at the Night Market the evening before. Like I saw in Peru, I think all the “authentic,” hand-made souvenirs sold by street vendors are mass-produced in a factory somewhere and then sprinkled all around town. Someone is making a killing.

We also went to a monkey show and stopped at the unimpressive palace belonging to Thailand’s last princess.

Our last activity of the day was a stop at the traditional village of the Padong people, also known as the “long-necks.” The women in this tribe have a growing number of metal rings placed around their necks as they get older, elongating them and making them more “beautiful.” I was pretty excited about this stop, hoping to get some National Geographic-like pictures. Instead, the whole experience was depressing and awkward.

As we followed the main path through the village, long-neck women sat in front of souvenir stands, each one selling the same crap. None were smiling, all looked depressed. They chatted and giggled amongst each other, but when a tourist came near, they would stop talking, turn towards the street, and do something “traditional,” like fidget with a loom, play a strange musical instrument, or hold their baby close and look all poor and hungry. Since we paid a fee before entering the village, Peter encouraged us to take all the pictures we wanted, but it didn’t feel right. On the one hand, these people were on display like zoo animals, and on the other, their existence was not at all authentic. I got some shots, but I have mixed feelings about them.

Between destinations, Peter got into the habit of making unplanned stops at places where he surely received kickbacks: a jade factory, a celadon ceramics factory, a carpet manufacturer. After suggesting additional stops at a lacquerware factory and a silk manufacturer, we got tired of his shenanigans and politely declined.

Before leaving Peter, we had a quick snack with him at noodle place on the corner. I had the most wonderful dessert, called something like “tap tin krop.” Coconut milk with red jelly things and noodly things in it, topped with crushed ice. Very delicious and refreshing.

Last night, we went to our favorite hangout (Riverside Bar) to see our favorite band (The Bugs). They played U2 for me and, knowing it was our last night in Chiang Mai, posed for some pictures with us.

We enjoyed Chiang Mai, finding it to be a little more genuine than Bangkok. You have the same kinds of people trying to take advantage of the tourists (tuk-tuk drivers, tour leaders, street vendors), but there are fewer of them and they are less aggressive.

The most stress-relieving news of the moment is that the rest of the flights for our trip are booked. Took a bit of back and forth with the airlines, airports, and Internet fare searching, but it’s done. Tomorrow, we’re off to Luang Prabang (LOO-ONG-PRAH-BANG), a small, highly recommended town in Laos (rhymes with HOUSE). We’ll be there a couple of days before heading off to Siem Reap (pronounced SEE-EM-REE-UP by the Thais but SIM-REEP by the Cambodians, I would later learn), location of the enormous temple and photographer’s paradise known as Angkor Wat.

We really didn’t know what to expect from Chiang Mai. It’s quite a large and spread out, definitely cooler and drier than it was down south. Curbs are striped in red and white, making it feel like you’re playing Pole Position when zooming along in the back of a tuk-tuk. The most refreshing change is that we are not constantly hassled by taxi drivers, street vendors, or girls with numbers on their dresses the way we were down south. For the most part, people catering to tourists respectfully keep their distance. Doug and I like it here.

On our first night, Doug and I hit the Night Bazaar, crowded row after crowded row of street vendors selling all the same stuff as we’ve seen everywhere else: obscene t-shirts, fake watches, pirated DVDs, cheap jewelry, and little tuk-tuks made out of wire and cut-up soft drink cans.

Looking for a place to have a drink, we ended up at Riverside Bar, a nice little place packed with mostly locals and a few tourists sprinkled in. The rock cover bands that played were truly amazing. After a particularly good U2 cover by a band called The Bug, I was hooked. Doug captured some video. Unbelievable guitar solos by these guys and also the other band that was playing. There’s no way you’d ever find local bands this good at home.

While jamming to the music, I met a Thai fellow named Gao, who was there with some friends at a table right in front of the stage. He was on a mission, drinking a continuous stream of whiskey and water and wishing me Happy New Year every eight minutes. We were instant friends.

We woke up yesterday (right around the time we were supposed to get up) by the sound of a rooster cockle-doodle-dooing and a ridiculous amount of dog barking. By the density of barks, I estimate 10 dogs. The rooster cockles, and then all the dogs go apeshit for a few minutes. When they finally stop barking, the roster cockles again and it starts all over.

We booked a day trip to the wats of Chiang Mai through the front desk with a guy named Peter. Peter is a local tour guide who is trying to get his own business up and running (and needs a web site). He turned out to be a good English speaker, very pleasant, and accommodating, allowing us to run errands throughout the day.

The wats of Chiang Mai are impressive. Walking around them, you hear live readings from the Buddhist bible over loudspeakers, roosters cockling, and dogs barking. Sometimes you have to step over sleeping/dead dogs just to walk inside. Turning a corner, you’ll get a waft of incense, which really works to make things seem more mystical. I took a buttload of pictures.

At Doi Suthep, one of the monks was sitting down on a chair and blessing people who would sit down on the floor in front of him. A family gathered and he began chanting. He produced what looked like reeds, dipped them in water, and then flicked water onto the people in front of him while he continued chanting. When he was finished, he tied a simple bracelet of white string around each of their wrists.

After they were finished, I moved in and gestured if I could take a photo of him. He gave me a gentle smile, so I leaned in and snapped a quick one.

After I made a small donation to the box next to him in thanks, he started chanting and flicking water at me. I kneeled down, soaked up the moment, and received my bracelet.

Peter explained a bit about the history of Chiang Mai and taught us some Thai. Interesting how tonal languages work. Gao, at the Riverside Bar, had taught us “lao” meant “whiskey.” When we explained to Peter that we had some “lao” the night before, he thought we meant we had Lao people last night (presumably eating them or killing them). Turns out that the word for whiskey is spoken from high to low, while the word for Lao people is more flat.

Our basic Thai is getting better. We’ve learned the basic greeting “sawadee,” which means “How are you?” when the suffix of “kup” is added for a boy speaker and “ka” for a girl. Adding “pi ma” to the end of it makes it “Happy New Year.” We learned from Peter that “koon soi ma” means “you are very beautiful,” and that “arroy ma” means “very delicious” when referring to food. (To my dismay, you may not say “koon arroy ma,” meaning “you are delicious,” to a girl the way you can at home.) After seeing one of Gao’s friends get sick in the bushes after our night out at Riverside Bar, we learned that the word for vomit sounds like “oo-ah,” perhaps onomatopoeic and similar to what Al Pacino does in “Scent of a Woman.” Doug has taken an interest in the Thai language as well, practicing by pronouncing Thai words much louder than English words when both are used in the same sentence.

After the wat tour, we headed back to the hotel to freshen up. The Castle continues to be ridiculously amazing. The family, especially the woman who speaks exceptional English, will do anything for you with big smiles. She let me use her personal cell phone to call the airport. After searching for DVD-ROMs all over Chiang Mai, she produced some from behind the counter. When they clean our rooms, they fold all of our clothes and put stuff into cabinets and drawers for us. They did our laundry for next to nothing. The only bad thing is the rooster and dog symphony each morning, but it’s not a huge deal.

Last night, we went out and grabbed a nauseating dinner at a restaurant called La Brasserie and then went over to Riverside Bar again. We rejoiced to find The Bug playing. Still amazing. We’re officially groupies now.

Pleased with the value we got from Peter yesterday, we booked him again today for an early morning trip to an elephant camp, a monkey show, and a traditional village in the hills just outside of Chiang Mai. Right now, I’m sitting in the back of Peter’s car, ready to take a nap. We’ve been staying very busy…

Staying on Koh Samui a couple of extra days meant that I had to change my tickets that I had booked through Expedia. After three completely useless and expensive phone calls (sorry, Doug), I was told that they couldn’t do anything for me and that I had to contact Bangkok Airways directly to change or cancel my flight. Of course, it was the middle of the night here in Thailand by the time the Expedia agent gave me that information, and out flight out was at 7:45am the next morning. This meant that I had to hop on my scooter and head over to the local Bangkok Airways office. So at 7am, that’s what I did. Naturally, they didn’t open until 8am, so this meant that I had to race over to the airport. So I did.

I wasn’t sure where the airport was, but I figured it out, getting there at 7:40am. I knew they would not allow me to change my ticket after the flight departed at 7:45am, and I thought that I might have already been screwed. But to my surprise, the lady behind the counter of the ticket office immediately canceled my reservation at no charge. The second leg of the itinerary was with Thai Airways, and she said she couldn’t do anything about that. She recommended I go over to the Thai Airways ticket office next door. So I did. But they were not open yet. So I waited.

At 9am, they finally opened the doors. The lady behind the counter told me that Thai Airways couldn’t cancel the ticket and that Bangkok Airways would have to do it. So I went back to Bangkok Airways, where they canceled it for me, again at no charge. I would later visit their office to find two available seats on a previously (for the last three months) full non-stop flight from Koh Samui to Chiang Mai.

Despite a few hiccups, I have become a big fan of Bangkok Airways. With their friendliness at the airport ticket office, no fees to make changes to my tickets, and the great experience we’ve had with them in the air, they are my kind of airline! On the flip side, Expedia can suck my balls. They are completely incompetent, disorganized, and probably ugly, too.

We filled our last couple of days on Samui by scootering around the island and doing some of the activities that Kyle had recommended to us back on Koh Phangan. I really enjoy how every business on Samui is named with some combination of “Beauty,” “Smile,” “Friend,” and “Happy.” You’ll find “My Friend Restaurant,” “Beauty Smile” (a dentist), and “Smile Massage” (I bet). The English spelling errors on street signs, advertisements, and menus are too numerous to be humorous.

Doug was really really looking forward to doing some some ziplining, in which you hang from a wire cord suspended between two trees and slide down. We went to a place called Treetop, high in the hills of Samui, to do it.

We also stopped at the Aquarium & Tiger Zoo, which had a mediocre aquarium but a pretty spectacular tiger and bird show. I had no idea birds could be trained that well.

On our last full day, we took a day trip out to Ang Thong National Park, a collection of tiny islands a short ferry ride from Samui. First, some kayaking around and under some of the limestone formations making the islands, and then a few hikes up to viewpoints.

The hike up Ko Wua Talap was extremely strenuous. They should not allow people who are wearing flip-flops to do the hike. They should not allow people who are wearing flip-flops and have a stubbed toe do the hike. And they certainly should not allow people who are wearing flip-flops, have a stubbed toe, and are carrying a big-ass camera to do the hike. It took some work, and I almost ate it a few times, but I finally got to the top. The view of all 42 islands in the national park from the top was worth it. Barely.

On the way down, I stumbled and skinned my knee. Stopped at the first aid booth right at the bottom, where they patched me up. Looks like they deal with bumps and scratches every day.

One night, we went out to Fisherman’s Village to drink Bahama Mama’s (!) and watch the sun set. Doug resisted the urge to make out with me.

After dark, we’d always end up in Chaweng, cruising the cramped streets by scooter and the narrow sidewalks by foot. The scene was becoming familiar. Lots of guys selling suits trying to shake our hands and pull us into their stores, lots of guys with vicious monkeys on their shoulders, lots of taxis beeping at anyone who isn’t inside of a bar, lots of Thai girls waving us into bars that were mostly empty. The ease at which the Thai girls ride sidesaddle on the back of tourists’ scooters is frightening. Doug and I are starting to get tired of all of this.

We checked out Lamai, a slightly smaller and supposedly less seedy version of Chaweng. We found it to be much the same, with souvenir stands, crepe carts, and pirated DVDs. My favorite items were the woven bracelets, similar to ones saying “BERMUDA” or “CAYMAN ISLANDS” that you might pick up when you’re on vacation. They said things like “FUCK MY ASS,” “FUCK YOU,” “LONG PENIS,” “LONG VAGINA,” and my personal favorite, “I LOVE RAPE.”

Lamai had even fewer people than Chaweng. We still don’t understand why it’s not that busy out here. Certainly looks like there are enough bars and restaurants to handle five times as many people. Is it because of the airport protests a few weeks ago? Did that many people really cancel their trips to Thailand?

In the end, we feel like we’ve done and seen pretty much everything there is to see and do on Samui. And after everything, I think we enjoyed zipping around the island on our scooters more than anything else.

This morning, our last in Samui, I woke up early for an hour-long foot massage on the beach for 300 baht (US$9). For the first time all trip, the sun came out, and it was blazing. The beach was borderline uncomfortable. We complained about the weather at first, but Doug and I agree that we were lucky to have the haze and clouds for the whole time we were in Samui. The sun together with the humidity would have made it very uncomfortable.

We checked out of Fair House dripping with sweat. Like she did when we first checked in, the lady at the desk handed us cool, wet towelettes on a cute little tray to wipe ourselves down with. Then we zipped off to the airport just in time to catch our flight to Chiang Mai. Quick and painless.

While waiting for our baggage, I spotted a brochure for a sweet-looking guest house near the Chiang Mai city center called The Castle. (I must admit I was lured by the HDR photos of the building all over the brochure.) We didn’t have anything booked, so I called from a pay phone and managed to secure a reservation for tonight.

Our taxi meandered the dusty streets of Chiang Mai before eventually getting here. We walked inside The Castle and were blown away. Beautiful architecture, great facilities, and a very friendly staff. One of the ladies at the front desk spoke exceptional English and was able to answer all of our questions about our stay in Chiang Mai.

We were led to our room, which not surprisingly is awesome. Doug enjoys the opportunity to use yet another shower without doors. The entire bathroom is the shower. We even have free wireless Internet here, which should make researching and booking the rest of our trip pretty easy.

For our accommodation in Chiang Mai, we totally lucked out. Like I said to Doug, when you’re traveling, sometimes it just all comes together.

Right now, I am downstairs near the lobby, in a room with a public computer and a 42” LCD television. I sit at a large, oak dining room table, a planter filled with fake orange-yellow orchids sitting in front of me. The sun is setting outside. In the distance, dogs are barking and a Thai man is making some sort of speech through a loudspeaker. Doug sits across from me with one earphone plug in, studying maps of the city and figuring out how we’re going to fill the next few days.

Tonight, Doug and I venture out into Chiang Mai.