No Regrets!

The main road along Chaweng Beach is filled with restaurants, bars, souvenir shops, retail stores, every pirated DVD you can imagine. And it’s long. Doug and I walked an hour and a half last night soaking it all in and didn’t even come lose to reaching the end.

Every 30 minutes, a truck with obnoxious Thai boxing images and a loudspeaker drove by, sternly advertising the fights in a thick Thai accent.

“Fight tonight. 9pm. Chaweng Stadium. Chaweng Stadium. Big fight. Special fight.”

We spotted a monkey in a guy’s arms and didn’t avert our gaze quickly enough. He hopped over and offered to let me hold the monkey. I didn’t want to, since I knew he wanted to relieve me of some baht. Sure enough, after putting the monkey in my arms, he produces a Fisher Price-looking camera.

“200 baht! 200 baht! Picture for you!”

I decline, but this only makes him try harder. He puts the monkey on my head.

“200 baht! Picture!”

I decline again. At that moment, the monkey bends over and clenches down with his teeth on the top of my head. It hurt. I did not know how to react. Did he make the monkey do it on purpose because I wouldn’t pay? Do I grab the monkey? Do I punch the guy? Is my head bleeding? In the blink of an eye, the guy and his monkey disappear.

“Fight tonight. 9pm. Chaweng Stadium. Chaweng Stadium. Big fight. Special fight.”

Doug and I picked a restaurant for dinner and then set up shop in one of the bars for a few drinks. We ended up sitting at a beach bar for a little while, watching fireworks and sky lanterns float up into the sky, and then hitting the Green Mango, one of the most popular and foul-smelling dance clubs in the area.

This morning, Doug and I began sorting out the rest of our trip. We haven’t finished booking everything, but we have a pretty good idea what we’re going to be doing. We’re not going to go back to Koh Phangan. We’re going to stay here in Samui for a couple of extra days (there seems to be a lot to do around here) before going to Chiang Mai and Siem Reap as planned. We are leaning towards going to Laos instead of Vietnam for the last few days of our trip.

This involved changing one of my flights, the one I had booked on Expedia. Trying to make the change has been time consuming and expensive, and I haven’t even been able to change it yet. The first agent did absolutely nothing, and I got disconnected the next two times I called. Note to Expedia: Don’t be completely incompetent every time I speak to you and, when I don’t get disconnected, end your calls with “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

After breakfast, we picked up some scooters and zipped around the island a bit. Great fun. Scooters seem to be popular on tropical islands. I think you can conceptualize how big an island is by how long it would take you to completely circle it on a scooter. Rarotonga took about 20 minutes. Koh Samui would take about an hour and a half.

Doug’s got a really good sense of direction and has been doing the bulk of the navigating for us. We visited three waterfalls today, Hin Lad being the best of them. We were unprepared for the moderately grueling rock scrambles up to them. Flip-flops are not appropriate attire.

We also stopped at a few viewpoints and went to Hin Ta and Hin Yai, a spot with rocks shaped by the sea to look like a penis and vagina.

My big-ass camera and tripod are a pain in my ass. I take them almost everywhere: on hikes up to waterfalls, to beaches, on my scooter. And it’s almost always a struggle. I keep reminding myself that I will be thankful for all the effort after I get home, but sometimes I get a little fed up with it.

Doug and I have done a bunch of walking and hiking over the last few days, and both of us are getting a case of backpacker feet. You know, it’s when you get stubbed toes and blisters, and Neosporin-soaked Band-Aids make a sloppy mess in your flip-flops. Doug looks like Kerri Strug with Ace bandages wrapped around his feet. I’m waiting for everything to heal up so that I can start getting my daily foot massages.

On days with hectic schedules, Doug and I have been sustaining ourselves with street food. There are little carts everywhere with people selling fried pork, chicken wings, crepes, dried squid, and every kind of meat on a stick. If you enjoy meat on sticks, this is the place to be. Pork, chicken, fish, you name it. Most of those meat sticks are good, but today Doug and I had little balls of chicken that were filled with bone and cartilage fragments. If the meat comes to you in a form that does not occur naturally, you’re taking your chances.

Some general observations about Thailand:

• Thai people are very friendly, but Doug and I agree there is a silent comtempt for tourists among the Thai. They are all smiles when they might get some money out of you, but Doug and I are sensing something else.
• Based on the English on all the signage and restaurant menus, you’d think that everyone who deals with tourists daily would speak the language. But that’s not the case. Many struggle, even the taxi drivers when you give them place names. Speaking to them with the same incorrect English that they use with you seems to make the conversations flow a bit better.
• The average age of tourists here is probably mid-30’s, not early 20’s like I expected. Lots of couples and families.
• Most of the tourists we see in the streets look grumpy. Not sure why.
• As I expected (but to Doug’s surprise), we are meeting very few Americans. When anyone finds out that we are from the US, they all want the inside scoop on Obama. “Do you think he will turn things around?” “Will he make a difference?” “Is he the same as Bush?” Then a political but brief discussion occurs before the taxi ride is over or the ferry is ready for boarding.
• Doug and I need to hit the gym and get tattoos. Beefy, college-aged guys who like to strut around topless and show off their dragon/snake/barbed wire/religious tattoos surround us.
• Dogs everywhere. Some stand alongside the road just watching cars go by, others lay down. Not sure if the laying down ones are sleeping or dead. Hard to tell the difference.
• Things are definitely cheap here, but not as cheap as I expected. Speaking with friends who have been to Thailand before, I was under the impression that everything would be dirt cheap. But that’s not the case. I think the days of being in Thailand and living in luxury for US$3 a day are drawing to a close.
  • 10 – 20 baht (US$0.35 – $0.70) is what it costs to park your car or scooter in a private lot
  • 50 – 100 baht (US$1.75 – $3.50) is what a quick snack like chicken balls or pork on a stick costs on the street
  • 100 – 200 baht (US$3.50 – $7) will get you a mixed drink, a cheap meal, or a photo with a monkey on your head
  • 250 baht (US$7.50) will get your feet rubbed for an hour
  • 400 baht (US$14) will get your body rubbed for an hour
  • 2000 baht (US$70) will get you sex for an hour
• As a few people warned me, there are lots of ladyboys (men dressed as women) around. I think I’ve been pretty good about spotting them, but it seems like some other backpackers are taking the bait.
• There are easily more 7-11’s than any other store in Thailand.
• To me, the food here tastes very similar to the Thai I get at home at the local take-out. Which is good, I guess. Just thought it would taste different. For some reason, waiters are never in a rush to bring you the check.
• There seems to be a shortage of napkins and garbage cans in Thailand.

We had breakfast this morning with Kyle. He let Doug and me listen to some of his band’s music on his iPod. Really great stuff! Have a listen on his band’s web site.

Checked out of Bottle Beach 1 (US$98.50 for two nights accommodation, two dinners, drinks, and four 4-wheel drive taxi rides across the island). Took a taxi to Thong Sala and waited a few hours (ugh) at the pier. Ferries came and went, but pushy backpackers in front of us would load on to each boat and fill it up before we could get on ourselves. The weather is still kind of crummy, making the ferry ride out from Koh Phangan was as bumpy as the ride in.

We just pulled into our hotel here in Koh Samui. It’s called Fair House and was recommended to us by one of Doug’s friends. Pretty amazing place. The facilities, room, and service are all fantastic. Beautifully decorated, spacious room with lots of electrical outlets (nice!), restaurant on the beach, two swimming pools (one for me and one for Doug), laundry service (badly needed), and Internet. There’s a lot to do around here, and Doug and I are already thinking that we might want to extend our stay in Koh Samui a day or two just to take it all in.

Tonight, off to Koh Samui’s nightlife hot spot, Chaweng Beach.

PS: Check out Doug’s blog. Might be fun to get his perspective on the same trip…

This evening, we went to the bar at the resort and met up with Kyle, Beverly, and some of their South African friends for dinner, drinks, and a few legendary games of Jenga. After learning that the resort makes magic mushroom shakes, we went to the bar to order some, only to find out that they had just run out. Shame.

Doug and I really like Kyle. At 22 years old, he is happier and more mature than most Americans we know in their 30’s.

Tomorrow morning, we are going to catch the ferry back to Koh Samui. Our next few days will be spent on the beach and exploring the island. We are hoping for better weather. These are beautiful islands, but paradise is a little more perfect when the sun is shining.

We are toying with the idea of ferrying back to Koh Phangan for a Half Moon Party on January 4, since it will likely be our last few days of fun before spending the rest of our trip exploring the wats and ancient ruins of northern Thailand, Cambodia, and maybe Vietnam or Laos.

PS: We were not in Bangkok when the fire broke out, but down on the island of Koh Phangan. In fact, we only heard bits and pieces about it a few days after it happened (backpacker word-of-mouth travels slower than Internet). So we are fine. Thanks to everyone who checked in on me!

Pretty amazing, and about what I imagined. Thousands of people drinking and dancing to rave music, with bass beats shaking the whole beach and lasers everywhere. The drinks we mostly sold as “fuck buckets,” or little pails with various combinations of cans and bottles inside of them: rum, vodka, whiskey, Coke, Sprite, Red Bull. You could mix and match as you pleased, and it was yours for 300 baht (about US$11). Along the beach, there were 10-15 different bars, each pounding out their own beats and overflowing with people. Hundreds of others, male and female, were at the waters edge pissing into the ocean at any given moment. (There seems to be a lot of pissing on this trip.)

Doug and I drank lots, went all night long, and had a great time. It seems that Koh Phangan is where all the tourists are. It also seems that most of them are English or Australian.

At the stroke of midnight, Doug and I were standing on a little wooden bridge overlooking the beach. The place went nuts, and Doug and I gave each other a thumbs up.

Getting back to the resort this morning was a bit of a problem. Let me recount the events of last night and this morning, perhaps a bit too verbosely:

12/31, 5:08pm – After taking much longer than expected to get to Bottle Beach 1 Resort, we finally arrive and check in. We ask about a ride back to the other side of the island for the Full Moon New Year’s Eve Party later that night, and the guy at the front desk says there are two scheduled trips, one at 5pm and one at 7pm. It was obvious to me that we had missed the 5pm departure, but we were asked to choose, so we picked 7pm. We’d be expected to stay down at Haad Rin all night. Then, the same taxis would bring us back the next morning. Again, we were asked to choose between two times, 6am and 7am. We chose 6am. He jotted our preferences down onto a makeshift pad of paper that screamed of disorganization.

12/31, 6:55pm – Doug and I promptly show up at the front desk. Apparently, the guy made a scheduling mistake, and instead of leaving at 7pm, the taxi would now be taking us at 8pm. No problem, but this makes me think that maybe things are in fact a bit disorganized.

8:08pm – We finally get into the 4-wheel drive vehicle. Packed in pretty tightly, we are one of two taxis making the hour-long journey simultaneously down to Haad Rin.

9:12pm – The taxis arrive at Haad Rin. We are explicitly told to meet back at the same place to be picked up the next morning at our designated time, which our driver says is 8am. This conflicts with what we were told back at the resort, but the driver insists on the 8am pickup when I verify it with him.

1/1, 5:55am – Happy New Year. After a long night of partying, Doug and I stumble to the exact spot where the taxi had dropped us off. We see a lot of taxis, but not the Bottle Beach taxi that we needed. Even more disconcerting is that we don’t see anyone from the resort who took the trip down with us.

1/1, 6:15am – After hearing that we are going to Bottle Beach, one of the attendants directs us to a parking lot next to the spot where we are supposed to be picked up. There, we find a non-descript van and a small group of people who claim to be guests of Bottle Beach. But this is not our taxi, and we are told that there is no room for us anyway. There is no driver to be found.

6:21am – I run up a side road to discreetly take a piss and step into a thick pocket of mud, covering my foot up to my ankle with brown muck. I almost lose my flip-flop trying to pull it out.

6:26am – Taxis drive by every 20 seconds and offer to pick us up. Amazingly, none of them know the place by its English name, Bottle Beach, but they pretend like they do and offer to take us anyway for 100 baht. “Yes, I take you! Let’s go right now!” We decline their offers since we think a Bottle Beach taxi that we’ve already paid for is on its way.

6:32am – The sun rises.

6:38am – A Bottle Beach taxi drives past us, filled with people. I yell “Bottle Beach!” for him to stop, but he waves at us with his hand and tells us to wait without even slowing down. Wait for the next Bottle Beach taxi, I presume, which is still on the way.

6:46am – Fed up with waiting, Doug and I decide to eat some breakfast and return for the 8am pickup that the driver had mentioned the night before.

6:48am – It starts to rain.

7:06am – After walking the alleys of Haad Rin, we finally find an open restaurant and proceed to have one of the worst breakfasts I’ve had in a long time.

7:54am – We return to the same spot on the road where we are supposed to be picked up. Again, no taxi and no Bottle Beach people.

8:13am – Convinced no one is going to pick us up, we start looking for a taxi. Suddenly, there are no taxis to be found.

8:14am – It starts to rain.

8:19am – We start looking for a shop with a telephone and someone to help us get in touch with Bottle Beach 1 so that we sort things out. We find an Internet shop, and the friendly girl at the counter obliges. Of course, the listed number for Bottle Beach 1 does not work, so I have to pay for Internet time to look up their phone number online.

8:21am – Outside, Doug is talking to some taxi drivers. They offer to take us to Chaloklam, at which point we are to catch a boat to Bottle Beach. After explaining the fiasco from the day before and that we require a 4-wheel drive vehicle, we are quoted 3000 baht (about US$105) from one of the drivers.

8:36am – We finally get Bottle Beach 1 on the phone. The guy who answers speaks mediocre English, so I am able to explain our situation.

“You did not pick us up as planned, and we have been waiting for three hours. If we get a taxi, do we have to pay for it?”

“You two are only ones! Everyone else come back already.”

“OK, so what should we do?”

“Take taxi to Thong Sala. Go to 7-11 by pier, we will send 4-wheel drive. Meet you there.”

“OK, we are leaving right now.”

8:44am – We get into a taxi. One of the drivers who understands our situation immediately asks for my money when it’s obvious that they are waiting to load up the taxi with as many people as possible before leaving. Tired of people making promises and asking for money without delivering on their end, I snap at her. I feel bad, but we joke and make up.

9:04am – We arrive at Thong Sala. Nobody there.

9:16am – Turns out that a guy sitting in a random pick-up truck is in fact our ride. We are to hop into the back of it and ride to the 4-wheel drive vehicle, which, naturally, is at another location. Also turns out that we are also giving a ride to three other Germans who got also screwed by Bottle Beach 1. But they are sitting in a restaurant, so we have to wait for them.

9:29am – The Germans order their food.

9:36am – Doug looks into the bed of the pick-up truck where we will be sitting and finds that it is caked with mud.

9:44am – The Germans begin to eat in slow motion.

9:56am – The Germans finally finish, and we head off to pick up the 4-wheel drive vehicle.

11:01am – We finally arrive at our Bottle Beach 1 bungalow.

I don’t get it. Doug and I are reasonably intelligent guys. How did everyone else get back to Bottle Beach so effortlessly? I’m dying to find out. The lesson, I think, is to not stay at Bottle Beach. It is unacceptably inaccessible for the traveler who wants to get around.

Right now, Doug is in the room sleeping. I’ve got a nice spot inside the open air restaurant here at the resort, with a clear view of the ocean crashing around in front of me and a humid breeze flowing in. It’s warm, but too cloudy and rough to do any water activities around the island. And it’s now too late in the day to take any trips to some of the smaller islands around Koh Phangan. So I think we’re going to write this one off and make it a day of relaxation.

It’s just after midnight for most of you back home, so Happy New Year!

This morning, we packed up our things and rushed off to the airport to catch our flight down to Koh Samui. Great experience with Bangkok Airlines. The comfort, service, and food are better than on our international flights with Air France.

We arrived on Koh Samui in the middle of a torrential downpour. I was hoping to get lucky with the weather, but it’s monsoon season down here, so this is unfortunately pretty typical. By the time we landed, I had befriended the guy sitting next to me. Jerry, an Irish man here to visit his brother, was traveling with his young son Connor. Like us, they were headed over to Koh Phangan (PAN-YAN), so we made our reservations together and followed them to the ferry. The ride from Koh Samui to Koh Phangan was bouncy but pretty quick.

Getting to Bottle Beach, where we had booked two nights of accommodation, was a bit of an adventure. After disembarking, we were crammed into a van. The plan was to take the van as far as possible and then to hop onto a boat at Chaloklam, since there’s no road running all the way to Bottle Beach. But when we got to the pier, the waves were apparently “too big” for boat service, and our only option was to pay up for a 4-wheel drive vehicle to cut through the mountainous jungle in the middle of the island and back up to Bottle Beach.

We shared the ride with Kyle and Beverly, a nice young couple from South Africa. Sitting in the back of a pick-up truck, the trip over the muddy roads of central Koh Phangan was fast and treacherous. We held on for dear life. At first, we were annoyed by the extra travel time and cost, but I think the natural beauty of the island, even when raining, won us over.

Finally pulled up to Bottle Beach. Seems like a fantastic place. Just getting ready to head back out to Haad Rin for the New Year’s Eve Full Moon Party on the beach. By all accounts, it’s going to be pretty crazy.

A big “Happy New Year” from me to you!

Today was a carefully planned whirlwind of Bangkok sights. First, the crispy duck and fake purses of cramped and stinky Chinatown. No place for a tourist with a tripod.

Then the relatively unimpressive Emerald Buddha at the Grand Palace, the large, reclining Buddha at Wat Pho, then across the river to Wat Arun. Wat Benchamabophit, touted in our travel guide as “a photogepher’s paradise,” was being renovated and didn’t even seem like it would have been impressive without the construction. Some of the wats had incense burning and music playing, helping to make things a bit more mystical. There was no photography allowed inside some of the wats, which is OK since the outside almost always looked more impressive. It was very warm and humid today. I can’t imagine how things are in the summer.

After our wat tour, we tried to make it over to Jim Thompson’s House, a restored residence belonging to the guy who brought the silk trade to Thailand and supposedly an interesting spot, but it was closed by the time we got there. We got a tip from one of our tuk-tuk drivers that there was going to be a big Muay Thai boxing match at Lumphini Boxing Stadium this evening, which fit our schedule perfectly.

After being transported there by tuk-tuk, we were greeted by a vested women at the curb. She suckered us into ringside seats and led us through security. The metal detectors were laughable. I went through with my camera and tripod and there was no beep. I could have been Neo from the Matrix and walked in without a problem.

Each bout began with a little ceremonial dancing by each of the boxers. When it was time to start fighting, the small band off to one side of the ring would start to play, giving each bout a “soundtrack.” It did help make it more dramatic, I think. The mostly Thai crowd flashed signals to each other, an indication they were betting on the fights. For some bouts, they were quiet. For others, they roared with every kick. I had my camera, and we were up pretty close, so I was able to get a few nice shots.

Tonight, we ventured out on our own for dinner, choosing a Thai restaurant just down the street from our guest house. The food tasted much like it does at home. Then we found a tuk-tuk driver to take us to the Bedsupper Club, one of the Bangkok clubs hyped up by our travel guides. Our tuk-tuk driver asked us twice if we needed ladies and suggested a ping-pong show, but we stuck to our guns.

We pulled up to the Bedsupper Club only to be denied entry. It looked like we had finally found a decent social scene, but they wouldn’t allow is in with shorts and flip-flops. We then tried another place around the corner recommended by our travel guides, Q Bar, but it was the same situation there. Our tuk-tuk driver said he’d take us to another discothèque.

“Which one?”

“New club called Oscar.”

“No Oscar. We were there last night, and it sucked. We want a new place. We don’t need ladies, we don’t need ping-pong balls. Just a place with other tourists. A place we can have a drink.”

“OK, I find discothèque for you.”

The one he eventually pulled up to was called Kebab Party. Or at least that’s what I thought it was called, since that’s what the biggest neon sign in front of it said. But that was just a food cart. The club was called Bossy. After being escorted inside and paying the cover, the windowless doors opened up, revealing a bar that was almost completely empty, a raised stage with stripper poles, and lasers. The place was filled with people who worked there and hardly anyone else. It was just like Oscar. Doug had the pleasure of finding four men in the bathroom waiting to massage him. They didn’t even wait for him to stop peeing.

We had a couple of drinks and then gave up. Riding the tuk-tuk back to our guest house, we spotted a row of bars with brilliant neon lights and the commotion that usually comes from a good social scene. We hopped out of the tuk-tuk and strolled past the bars, only to find that every single one of them had ladies in front in matching skank outfits and/or numbers on their shirts. Naturally, they all wanted us to come inside. Walking back to the guest house, small groups of girls sitting at makeshift bars on the sidewalk threw themselves at us.

Seriously? Is Bangkok really like this? Where do all the tourists go? There are thousands of them in Bangkok right now. Do they all stay in their own guest houses? Do they all really go out to buy some ladies? Do they all know to bring dress shoes and slacks and go to the Bedsupper Club? The sights were impressive, and the people were friendly, but we leave Bangkok a little disappointed and confused.

Tomorrow morning, we catch an early flight to Koh Samui and then a ferry over to Koh Phangan. We’ll drop our stuff off at our beach house and then head to Haad Rin for what is supposed to be a huge beach party for New Year’s Eve.

If there is no social scene on Koh Phangan on New Year’s Eve, we are turning around and coming home.

On the night of December 27, I went to Doug’s place, where one of his friends was waiting to take us to the airport. Our big trip had a bit of a rough start when, halfway to the airport, I realized that I had left my brand new iPhone on the trunk of my car. I insisted we go back to Doug’s place to get it, so we did, finally getting back to the airport just in time to catch our flight to Paris.

On our Air France flight, coach class was uncomfortably cramped, with seats crammed in about as tightly as you might expect on a domestic flight in the US. The food, surprisingly served with metal forks and knives, was mediocre. But I was most disappointed to find out that the coach seats on the plane did NOT have an outlet for my laptop. One of our flight attendants, though, was absolutely beautiful. She had one of those faces that you just can’t stop staring at. And I did stare, wanting for a moment to sneak a photo of her. Girls get creeped out by that sort of thing, so I didn’t. She hated me.

With no laptop, I had to entertain myself with the in-flight video system. After watching Ghost Town (fantastic since it stars the brilliant Ricky Gervais), I got a bit sleepy and conked out for the remainder of the seven-hour flight. Wonderful, since I usually have a really hard time sleeping on flights. Woke up just in time for the pilot’s horrendous landing Charles de Gaulle Airport. Didn’t even feel like the landing gear was down.

We were scheduled for a seven hour layover in Paris, so Doug and I planned to head into town and do a little bit of sightseeing. We caught the affordably priced Air France shuttle bus into town and spent about two hours sightseeing. We had just enough time to circle the Arc de Triomphe, take a brisk walk over to the Eiffel Tower, and pee on the sidewalk. It was frigid outside (right around freezing), and since Doug and I had mostly packed for the warmer temperature of Thailand, our walk was a little uncomfortable.

Doug and I have both been to Paris before, but on this particular visit, Doug and I agreed that Paris smells like fart. Every time we turned a corner, it smelled like someone had just dropped fresh ass. Walking the streets, I profiled the French: lots of hair, carefree, very little makeup, and pushy. No courtesy when people are lining up for toilets, visiting attractions, or boarding/deboarding a plane or bus. Once again, I tried to be friendly with them, but I was stuck in Peru mode and kept saying “Gracias!” to anyone who helped us out.

We caught the shuttle back to the airport to catch the long flight Bangkok, this one about 11 hours. Again, no laptop, so I watched Tropic Thunder (not bad) before drifting off and getting some quality sleep once again.

Unfortunately, the flight did not follow the great circle, which would have taken us right over Mt. Everest and might have made a good photo opportunity. For reasons I would later learn, it went around the Himalayas and over India. When I woke up, I cracked the window shade and stared at the blue haze covering the mostly featureless Indian plains and chaotic river systems of Bangladesh before heading out over the Bay of Bengal. A few minutes later, we were descending over the mountain rainforests of Myanmar and landing at Bangkok airport. We were finally here.

Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport is the coolest airport I have ever been to, with geometrically intricate, glass-covered terminals. After being discourteously pushed by impatient French people trying to get off the plane, we made our way through the terminal, through customs, to an ATM to get some Thai baht, and then outside to catch a public taxi to our guest house. It was warm and humid outside, nice to feel after the freezing temperatures in Paris. And I was feeling fantastic. Despite the lengthy travel time and 12-hour time difference, there was hardly any jet lag.

Confused about the dates and times of our flights out to Bangkok, I screwed up my original reservation for our Bangkok guest house, saying that our arrival date was a day before it really was. Showing up a day late, I was afraid they’d cancel our reservation, but they were cool with us when we showed up. The friendly lady at the front desk offered us a different, slightly more expensive room. We gladly accepted.

We plopped down our bags and headed back out. Since we were only in Bangkok for one and a half days, we knew we had to make the most of our time.

After consulting our travel guides, we decided to head out to the waterfront along the Chao Phraya River, the main waterway through the city. We walked a few blocks and soaked it all in: the hot pink taxis, the beeping horns, the haze from smoky vehicle exhaust, the blind homeless guys singing horrible songs, and all the smells: fried meats on sticks, pork barbecued on miniature charcoal grills, the putrid smell of garbage, vehicle exhaust, and the heavy stench of human feces, all within a few feet.

We hopped on the Sky Train and then walked a few more blocks before hopping onto a tuk-tuk (TOOK TOOK), a rickshaw-like thing which sounds like sputtering go-kart. Traffic in Bangkok around rush hour is pretty heavy, and squeezing into the back of a tuk-tuk and holding onto dear life while it splits lanes and zips between cars is a definite thrill ride. After arriving, we told our driver “kop koon kup.” It means “thank you,” probably the first thing you should learn how to say when you’re in a foreign country.

We got to Phra Athit Road, one of the main streets along the river recommended by one of our guidebooks. It was not what we expected. A woman bowed at our feet as we walked by and then proceeded to piss on the sidewalk after we passed. Monks dressed in robes of highlighter orange shuffled past us. Tuk-tuk drivers stalked us like hungry lions, offering to take us anywhere. There was no communal pier or open areas filled with street performers, and hardly any tourists.

The only access to the waterfront was through countless narrow alleyways, most of them smelling like shit and dark even during the daytime. After winding our way around for a few minutes, we made it to the rather unscenic waterfront, where the only item of interest seemed to be the majestic Rama VIII Bridge. We walked over to it, snapped a few photos just as the sun was setting, and then waited at one of the service piers for a boat ride down the river. But the boat never came, since it was 6:30pm and the boats stopped running at 6pm.

Hoping to get a few more sweet night photos, we hopped onto another tuk-tuk and headed over to the Grand Palace, only to find that it was closed and surrounded by high walls. A complete bust. While waiting for a tuk-tuk back to the house, Doug and I purchased Cokes in glass bottles from a street vendor, only to see the girl pour them into little plastic bags and add ice and a straw before handing them over to us. Glass bottles are not allowed on the streets of Bangkok.

Determined to get something out of our first day, Doug and I went to get a foot massage down the street from our guest house. The masseuses were anxious to get us in the door, running out to invite us inside as soon as we stopped to scan their signage for pricing. A foot massage is what I really wanted, and it cost 250 baht (US$7) for an hour. But a full body oil massage cost 400 baht (US$11), also for an hour. It didn’t take much convincing for Doug and I to splurge.

The inside of the place was right out of a movie. The innocuous, brightly lit chairs downstairs were visible to the street and were for the foot massages. Doug and I were lead right past them, up some rickety wooden stairs and into a dimly lit room with large “cubicles” made of plywood and a curtain door, Doug into one and me into another. We were told to take all of our clothes off and shower before we started. My masseuse was named May. She was nice. The massage was good.

It was time for dinner and a taste of Bangkok’s legendary nightlife. We decided that our first stop should be Padpong, Bangkok’s “red light” district. We hailed a tuk-tuk driver and hopped in. After hearing that one of the things we wanted to do later that evening was see a ping-pong ball show, our driver made a beeline for one that was completely out of the way but surely made him a commission. We got out, telling our disappointed driver that we weren’t ready to go in and that we wanted to eat first.

We found another tuk-tuk driver who, after hearing that we wanted to see a ping-pong ball show, made a beeline for another one some distance away which surely made him a commission. After making myself excessively clear about our intentions to eat first, he took us to some random seafood restaurant in the middle of nowhere that served very mediocre, very overpriced food. Pen, our tuk-tuk driver, offered to wait outside while we ate so that he could take us back to the ping-pong ball show when we were done.

Doug and I were learning. The best thing to do with these tuk-tuk drivers was to be vague, saying that you wanted to go to a particular neighborhood without mentioning exactly what it was that you wanted to do there so that they can’t sucker you into one of their “recommended” destinations.

After our meal, Pen took us back to the ping-pong ball show. Again, the downstairs looked innocent enough, with brightly colored pleather booths and tables that made the place look more like a foreclosed Denny’s than a place where sex shows are performed. We walked to the counter, paid our admission fee, tipped the guy who shoveled us inside (he stood there with his hand out waiting for it), got our free drinks, tipped the girls who gave us the drinks (they stood there with their hands out waiting for it), and finally went upstairs. The show was something else. Wasn’t sure how to even react to it. What they say about ping pong balls, bananas, razor blades, paper clips, and popping balloons with darts is all true. Four Indian women (one of them covered head to toe) sat in the corner and watched silently.

Again, Pen was waiting for us outside after we were done. We told him that we wanted to finally go to Padpong to get a few drinks, so he took us to a bar where several similarly dressed, good-looking Thai girls were chatting on the deck out front. Each one of the girls had a large white button with a large black number clipped to their dress. Doug and I looked at each other and then proceeded to go inside.

The place was empty and again resembled a foreclosed Denny’s. Doug and I looked at each other, not knowing which were the proper emotions to be feeling at this point. We both knew that we were probably getting into something that we didn’t want to do, but we went with the flow. A guy came inside and asked us if we wanted to talk to some girls, reassuring us that it wouldn’t cost anything. What would cost us is if and only if we wanted to take the girls somewhere else. No purchase required, so we went ahead with it. Moments later, all the girls spilled in from outside, and more girls came out from the back, all lining up single file in front of us and smiling. The guy asked us to each pick one to talk to. After taking a moment because I didn’t want to hurt any of their feelings, I picked #24. Doug picked #19.

The girls sat down with us, and everyone else disappeared. Awkward conversation ensued. Doug and I pounded our beers and knew we had to get out of there ASAP. The guy, who in effect was a pimp, asked us if we were ordering another drink or if we wanted to take the girls with us. We declined, and he walked away visibly disappointed.

After insisting to Pen that we did not need to go anywhere that had girls with numbered buttons on their dresses and that we wanted to go to a bar where we could find locals and tourists and have a few drinks, he suggested that we go to the bar next door. Inside, more girls with numbers on their dresses.

Pen said that all the bars in Padpong were like this, so we just told Pen to take us to a dance club in another part of town. So he took us to a place called Oscar.

Oscar was decked out like the cheesiest dance club in America, complete with lasers and smoke machines. The only girls in that place were the ones who worked there. We had a couple of drinks and decided to call it a night.

Before leaving Oscar, I had to use the bathroom. After finishing up my business, a gentleman came up from behind and reached around me with his arms. My asshole seized as it normally does under those circumstances, but it turns out that he worked there (I think) and all he wanted to do was contort me into various positions to crack my neck, back, shoulders and hips. Felt pretty good actually. Worthy of a US$1 tip.

Now, I sit in bed with Dough half-naked, as my late arrival in Bangkok meant that our original reservation, the one with two beds, was canceled. We are sharing a queen bed, which will work fine if Doug promises not to cross the line up the middle.

Our first day in Bangkok was educational to say the least. We have a full day planned tomorrow, as it is our only full day in Bangkok. We have a lot of wats (temples) to visit, more nightlife to experience, and maybe one more massage to squeeze in.

I’m afraid it will be a few days before I get any photos up. I think I’ve got some good ones, but I just haven’t had any time on my computer to get them uploaded. Will try to get a few up soon.

No Regrets!

An edited summary of the recent drama in Thailand from Wikipedia:

On the evening of Tuesday 25 November 2008, the People’s Alliance for Democracy executed what they called “Operation Hiroshima.” A convoy of hundreds of armed PAD members dressed in yellow blocked the two ends of the road in front of the terminal building of Suvarnabhumi International Airport and blockaded the main road to the airport. The airport is Bangkok’s main airport and an important regional hub. PAD forces quickly overpowered hundreds of policemen armed with riot gear. PAD leaders mounted a mobile stage and proceeded to criticize the government. PAD members armed with clubs, iron bars and knives, with some wearing black balaclavas, then entered the terminal, much to the surprise of the thousands of travelers inside. Armed PAD forces also forced their way into the control tower, demanding the flight plan for Prime Minister Somchai Wongsawat’s return from the APEC summit in Peru. Somchai flew into Bangkok Don Muang airport on the evening of 25 November 2008 before flying on to Chiang Mai. All Suvarnabhumi flights were soon canceled, leaving thousands of travelers stranded in the airport.

The government called on the Royal Thai Army to restore order at the airport. The Army did not follow the orders. In a press conference on 26 November, Army Commander General Anupong Paochinda proposed that the PAD withdraw from the airport and that the government resign. He also proposed that if the PAD did not comply, that they be subject to “social sanctions”, whereas if the government did not comply, that the bureaucracy stop implementing government orders. A written copy of the proposal was sent to the government. Neither the PAD or the government complied with the proposal.

At 4:30 AM on the morning of 26 November, three explosions were heard on the fourth floor of Suvarnbumi on the outside of the passenger terminal. Another explosion was reported at 6 AM. Several people were injured. It was not clear who set off the explosions.The PAD did not allow the police or forensics experts to investigate the explosions.

The PAD became the de-facto authority over the airport and the airplanes within it. Airports of Thailand, which planned to use U-Tapao military airbase outside of Bangkok as a replacement for Suvarnabhumi, pleaded with PAD leadership to release nearly a hundred empty aircraft from Suvarnabhumi.

Shortly after the Constitutional Court dissolved the three parties of the government coalition on 2 December 2008, the PAD held a press conference where they announced that they were ending all of their protests as of 10 AM on 3 December 2008. “We have won a victory and achieved our aims,” said Sondhi Limthongkul.

A bunch of my friends have sent me notes about this, wishing me luck and telling me to be careful. Even Doug is a little wary. But it’s sounding like things will be back to normal by the time we get out there. I say this makes things more exciting. 🙂

We’re off in three weeks!

Travelocity never charged my credit card for anything. Was just an authorization. You’d think that American Express would be able to tell the difference and save me a considerable amount of stress.

So I’ve spent the last couple of weeks trying to plan out the rest of my trip. Figuring out how to make the most of three weeks in Southeast Asia is a daunting task. First, you have to choose from all the amazing places to go, and then you have to figure out how to travel between them. The same frustrations navigating through crappy international web sites continued, but finally booking our flights and accommodation around New Year’s as things were starting to fill up reduced the stress considerably.

We leave the US on December 26, but it actually takes two days to get there, so the beginning of our trip looks like this:

12/28 – 12/31: Bangkok
12/31 – 1/2: Koh Phangan (for New Year’s party on the beach)
1 /2 – 1 /4: Koh Samui
1 /4 – 1 /8: Chiang Mai
1/8 – 1/12: Siem Reap
1/12 – 1/16: ?

That’s all we have booked at the moment. Like I did on my trip to Peru, we’re relying on a bunch of short flights to get around. Yes, I’ve heard arguments that we’re actually “seeing” less on a plane than we might see on the road or in a train and that flight-hopping is almost cheating, but I’m all about efficiency. I want to see as much guaranteed awesomeness as I can in the three weeks that we’re there.

On Koh Phangan, I’ve booked a little bungalow NEAR the beach for $40/night. Places ON the beach were sold out or way overpriced at some of the other resorts. I’m sure that will be a fun few days. We don’t really want to spend too much time in the tourist traps but realize that these places are usually the easiest to get to and the best starting points for day trips elsewhere.

Between Chiang Mai and our flight home, I wanted to try to squeeze in a couple of other countries. Cambodia was definitely going to be one of them, but my cousin Eric strongly recommended Laos, specifically the city of Luang Prabang and surroundings. Others recommend Vietnam. But which? Reading other travel blogs and looking at photos, both seem like amazing places to go. Instead of helping me decide, Doug wanted me to shop for suitcases with him online.

I have to admit, when I was looking into all this, I had to look at a map to figure out exactly where to find all these countries and cities in Southeast Asia. And then I had to figure out what places and activities were accessible from each of these cities. For a few days, I stressed. I couldn’t learn enough about these places to make an informed decision, and one thing I hate is being forced to make a decision based on incomplete information.

Today, it occurred to me that I’m not really being forced to do anything. Most backpackers going to Southeast Asia end up winging it. Why can’t we do the same?

So that’s what we’re going to do. If we love the beaches of southern Thailand, we’ll stay there a bit longer. If not, we’ll pack up and head north and rearrange things to spend time in Laos or Cambodia. I hope we don’t get screwed with any last minute pricing, but maybe that’s just the price to pay to keep our options open until we get there, soak it all in, and figure out what we really want to do.

One thing is for sure: I’ve put way more research into this trip than any I’ve ever taken.

Booking the rest of my Thailand itinerary has been a major pain in the ass. While booking flights in the US is relatively painless and efficient, pricing booking a complicated international itinerary is another thing altogether. There are a million sites proclaiming to have the cheapest airfares, but none of them really do. Then you have the actual airline sites, which are so buggy, un-user friendly, and time-consuming that they make me want to forget about the whole trip. Then, when you’ve finally pieced something together that might work and you start to get your credit cards involved, aggravation increases exponentially.

Why would Bangkok Airways show me a fantastic non-stop flight from Samui to Chiang Mai, let me start the booking process, and then tell me that there was a site error and that I should go back to the home page and start again, only to show that the flight I had previously selected is no longer available (and is still not available 24 hours later)? Did my booking attempt “block off” those seats on the flight? Or did someone really swoop in and buy the last remaining seats on the flight as I was going through the process?

You’d think calling them would fix the problem, but the representative only spoke five words of English. “Sorry, try the web site.”

Then I get on Travelocity, where I find another flight that works. Things are golden until I actually put in my credit card information and click “Complete the Reservation” button. THERE IS AN ERROR PROCESSING YOUR CREDIT CARD. I call American Express to authorize it, and they convince me that if I try the charge again, it will go through. So I try again. Well guess what? The flight I wanted is no longer listed. Did my booking attempt “block off” those seats on the flight? Or did someone really swoop in and buy the last remaining seats on the flight as I was going through the process?

I call American Express, and they tell me that I have not been charged for the tickets, but I HAVE been charged a $22 fee from Travelocity for each of the ATTEMPTS to book a ticket.

I call Travelocity, and the lady who speaks twelve words of English offers to connect me to the credit card services department to sort out my charges. I’m thinking I’ll be talking to Travelocity’s credit card department, but instead I’m connected to American Express. American Express lady and I try to figure out why we’re talking to each other for about 20 seconds before I hang up and call Travelocity back.

At last, I get a customer service representative at Travelocity who speaks 40 words of English. She explains that the itineraries I tried to book did not go through because of a credit card problem. Thank you very much. She then says that because the bookings were not completed, the two $22 charges will drop off my credit card after 24 hours. We’ll see about that. She then offers to complete my booking over the phone for an additional $25 telephone booking charge. I tell her what to do with the $25 and hang up.

Back on the Travelocity web site, BOTH flights I had tried to previously book are no longer listed. Did my booking attempt “block off” those seats on the flight? Or did someone really swoop in and buy the last remaining seats on the flight as I was going through the process?

I swear, booking these flights is like trying to pick up a chick. The harder you try, the less likely it’s going to happen.

Guess what, Doug? We are leaving Samui at 7:45am. Blame the Internet.

Oh yeah, I still have three more flights to book.