My name tag would read:

• Hi, My name is Tania
• I am from America
• No Kids
• No Husband
• Yes, I like Sri Lanka

Oh, maybe I would put 3 kids and no husband.  Hummm….

I have every intention of finishing my “Tour de Florida II” blog, and starting a “Destination Domestication” blog, & a “Multi-tasking for Dummies” blog shortly.  Just not tonight.  I will update about a most peculiar incident that I, disappointingly, just missed by mere minutes.  I woke up this morning around 7 AM as usual.  I have turned into somewhat of an insomniac.  Fred wakes up for work at this time, inadvertently wakes me up and then I make his lunch.  I try to come up with something the night before but some mornings I just wing it.  I know, I know. He did buy me a house.  It’s the least I could do.  My mom stayed home from work with an aching back, so we got some work around the house done.  I volunteered to clean the bathroom and cook lunch.  Around lunch time is when Mama Sherry yelled about you having the worst experience “just a minute ago!”  and I checked to see if I could catch you on-line somewhere.  It was so nice to have our “Old Skool” Skype session–no video, no sound but it’s Sri Lanka–I get it.  After our most wonderful, SkypeType, I ran to the Kent campus bookstore where I am taking two summer courses.  Anatomy & Physiology II is on Tuesdays, 5:30 PM–7PM.  Microbiology is on Wednesdays at the same time.   I also have the same teacher for both classes, Dr. Lourdes, who is really cool so far.  In addition to teaching, she is also the assistant dean of Biological Sciences and Mathematics.  Aside from being really stylish (Diane Von F wrap dresses!) and young (mid-thirties?), Dr. Lourdes has a really good sense of humor which surprised me.  I guess I assumed she would be all stuffy and dull with bad hair and thick glasses but she’s really pretty and makes class interesting.  Anyway, I still needed my lab manuals for both classes and they were only available at the campus.  I was able to score on my textbooks by buying one edition older saving over $200 from Amazon.  They are exactly the same except the cover.  This year has Michael Phelps.  Last year it featured Venus or Serena Williams.  It was hard to tell from the website and I haven’t received the book yet.  I had to race over to the bike shop, ZenCog where I have been working, to cover for Garf, the owner, for a couple of hours until class time.  I then darted over to school with my safety goggles and lab apron and prayed that we didn’t need our textbook since it hadn’t come in the mail yet.  Luckily we didn’t and I was able to finish my homework out of the lab manual at the bike shop so I was all covered.  I was a wee bit nervous about taking two science classes with labs during the condensed summer semester but I think I will manage just fine.  It’s still very early in the semester but I like Doc’s method of putting all our assignments on-line for us and plugging important due dates and labs in a calendar in addition to the syllabus.  Just as I finished my blood typing lab experiment, the power went off.  During the summer we get the most ferocious rain and thunder storms for about an hour every day and then that’s it.  This storm seemed to be no exception. I quickly put my microscope and synthetic blood samples away since I was all ready finished and headed for home a little early.  Taking my normal route, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary although it was still pouring out and lightning was crackling all around me.  I bolted to the front door, careful to wrap my brand new $65 lab manual (ugh!) in my apron so it wouldn’t get soaked.  As soon as I got a foot in the door, my mom was there asking me if I was all right and which way did I take to come home, yadda, yadda, yadda.  I looked at her like, “What the heck is up with you?” I could tell she was justifiably freaked out but I didn’t what about.  Turns out our neighborhood had a severe tornado!  I’m talking maple and oak trees lifted out of the roots and tossed around like twigs!  Power lines were down on every block around my mom’s house but our little corner of the world was untouched!  I mean the house behind had trees downed, the house next to her got shingles blown off their roof and the house on the other side of her had a tree hitting the power line and into the street.

This house is across the street and two houses down.

This is around the corner.  My mom’s house is the second one from the corner but you can’t see it because the tree is covering!

Look how the tree just dwarfs the car!  I wasn’t home from school maybe 10 minutes when the sky completely stopped raining and cleared right up.  There were downed power lines everywhere.  This is why authorities say DO NOT walk around the neighborhood when a natural disaster or tornado happens.  There could be gas leaks, power lines or trees just waiting to fall over, or in the case of a Miami hurricane, looters!

This is just a close-up of the same shot.  See how the grass is neatly up-ended by the roots jutting out.  Bizarre.  I had never seen the aftermath of a tornado.  I literally missed it up minutes!  My mom said that it was all of a sudden, pitch black outside.  Leaves and branches were swirling everywhere.

This one shows where branches were ripped off.  Of course my mom and I were walking around the neighborhood anyway, careful to avoid all the puddles in hopes of not getting electrocuted.  We went to my friend Amy’s house around the corner to survey her damage and make sure she was okay.  She is also pregnant.  Her entire backyard is in utter chaos!  So sad because she has all these cute games around like bocce ball, and a white-trash above ground pool.  Somehow a small tree became lodged in the pool but her boyfriend Josh was able to get it out.  I immediately thought of the new house!  Oh shit!  One of the things that made me fall in love with my little bungalow are all the beautiful trees I have.  There are two lining my driveway and one in my backyard.  They are the prettiest trees on the block, I’m not kidding!  We raced over there and were so relieved to find absolutely no trace of even rain!  I only live half of a mile from my mom.  So strange how freak weather can be so localized.  Even Fred was called at 8:30 at night to re-panel some friend of his boss’ that had lost power in the neighborhood.  Jacksonville Energy is working outside of the house now to pick up all the debris and downed power lines and it’s I AM!  I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.  I am meeting with lululemon bosses, finishing homework for microbiology, and then school.  I miss you lots and think I better say a few trayambukum chants for you just in case!  Talk to you soon hopefully.  I’ll leave my Skype up while I am at home.

Love,

Bobe’

Yesterday, I was determined to hang out on my beach front porch and update all the blogs from Burma.  My determination (and quite likely my environment kept me inspired) came through and I have posted four new blogs so start at the bottom and work your way up.  The first one you should read is “They Call It Myanmar, I Call it Burma”.

I am looooooovvvving Sri Lanka.  Seriously, words cannot explain or do this place justice.  Kind of had a scary experience the other morning when we got woken up at 0230 for a Tsunami evacuation.  We gathered important stuff and headed up the road to a church (there are a ton of Catholics here thanks to the Portuguese).  Luckily, the 7.7 earthquake in Indonesia did not produce a Tsunami so after a about an hour and a half we were free to return home.  I will say that the system the government put in place after the 2004 disaster works really good.  It’s an automatic SMS text message sent from various disaster watch areas around the country.  I asked the guys how many they’ve received since the system has been put in use and they said they’ve been notified three other times, but that this one was the most critical and serious one.  I would’ve cried if I had to witness the destruction of what has become my oasis.  Oh gosh, so much to share and YOU have so much to share too.  So fill me in.  I feel so out of touch and I don’t like.  I hate finding you put in a bid for a house through momma Sherry’s FB status updates and I know nothing of the sort.  It’s ironic you turning a 360 into domestication and I’m thinking of living the rest of my life on an island making beautiful Sinhalese, Mexican, German mix babies.  More on that later…

Love you.  Miss you.

Ness

I have the hots for monks.  I believe it started in Laos one day when I was sitting on the steps of a temple watching a group of monks/novices hard at work tearing down and clearing dead palm leaves when I saw this guy.

Doesn’t he have the most amazing facial bone structure?  He walked across the ground with such regal confidence that I was in awe and I could not take my eyes off of him.  Then I had an amazingly creative idea that is likely on the cusp of being a bit sacrilegious.  My idea is for a fashion designer to have a runway of models who with a shaved head, and perfectly chiseled face, start dressed with monk robes and then as they strut down the runway they reveal the real designs underneath.  How hot is that?  Or at least I think it is hot.  Maybe my idea has already been done?!?!?

My obsession intensified when I got to Burma especially when I met Owen (embarrassingly the only guy I’ve had an instant magnetic attraction to on my travels) and in the Shan State where the monks are exceptionally handsome (and heavily tatted).  Burmese monks seem to have a little more freedom than other monks I’ve come across in SE Asia.  They talk to women, ride around on mopeds (super hot sight with their saffron robes flying through the wind), hang out in tea houses, etc., etc.  I don’t know if it’s the whole forbidden desires of a religious man who has given up worldly wants and needs (kind of like the Samantha/Friar Fuck desire in Sex in The City), but damn they have free will too so maybe there is hope.  Just joking, well kind of. 

I had to take an early morning bus out of Hsipaw in hopes to make it to Bagan in one day.  When I got off the bus in Mandalay to changeover to another bus, I met Junko, a 38 year old Japanese backpacker who has been traveling solo for over 2 years and was also on her way to Bagan.  Junko and I hit it off immediately quite likely because I talked a lot and she found me hysterically funny.  Junko and I had only known each other for hours, but we laughed and laughed like we had the inside joke to everything around us.  Junko has a fabulously contagious laugh which made me think that damn I am indeed funny so of course I would get on a roll.  Almost exactly like how you and I have our fits of hysteric laughter to where our ribs and stomach ache.   Back in her old life, Junko was an English teacher so her English is perfect and there are hardly any lost in translation moments.  We arrived in Bagan at night and decided to share a room together.  The next morning at breakfast, Junko ran into a girl who she had met in another town near Inle Lake.  Florence is a 39 year old, French woman, who lives on Reunion island which I learned is off the East coast of Madagascar near Mauritius.  Florence is also an English teacher by profession so her English is also perfect and she has a real love for African American literature.  For the next four days, Junko, Florence, and I became The Thirty-Flirty Threesome because we were all solo woman travelers, in our 30’s, who loved international conquests although my run on this trip has been sparse to say the least.  It was the first time since I’ve been traveling to have met woman who I can truly, truly relate to and we had a BLAST!!!!  We spent three days touring Bagan via horse cart (got to support the local people) and bicycles.  Bagan is more massive than the grounds of Angkor Wat, but UNESCO has not declared it a World Heritage Site because the committee decided some of the restoration improvements were not up to their standards.  Regardless, Bagan is breathtaking and I do dare say that I liked it better than Angkor Wat.   There are 4000 stupas so needless to say there was a lot to see and discover. Like Angkor, the temples/stupas were built during different time periods of dynastic rule.  Some temples had frescoes over 1000 years old.  My favorite temple was Ananda Temple which was from the 11^th century and a really sweet lady practicing for her tourist guide license gave me a tour for free.  She explained Buddha’s stance and explained the three fingers stood for don’t be greedy, don’t be angry, and don’t be jealous.

The land around Bagan is mostly arid with some gentle rolling hills and there are many temples you can climb up to catch wonderful 360 views of the area.  At the Mingala Zedi monetary I recall being able to count over 160 stupas just from that one view and the monastery wasn’t even as high up as some of the other sites.  Fortunately for us, monsoon weather had hit the southern coast of Burma so most of our days were spent under overcast clouds and the heat was bearable.  Unfortunately, we didn’t get to witness any amazing sunsets or rises that Bagan is so famous for.

After almost two weeks in Burma and hardly having to endure tourist touts/souvenir vendors it was kind of a shock to the senses to return to the touristic destination that Bagan is with all the hassle although not nearly as horrible as Egypt or Angkor Wat.  Florence is a real free spirit, dancer, hippie who loves soaking up the culture.  She freely wore the Thanakha make-up and beautifully decorated longyi sarongs she had purchased since being in country.  Florence is tall with a dancer’s body so she was a sight to see and the Burmese people loved her.  Plus, she wasn’t shy to practice Burmese and many times Junko and I had to wait for Florence because she had been suckered into someone’s stall to buy a souvenir she did not need.  After two days of watching Florence and after having to wait for her yet again, I exclaimed her to be a real “Champion of The People” which put Junko in a fit of laughter and has stuck as her nickname.  One night at dinner Junko said we were like the backpacking version of the Sex in The City girls which is so spot on. I can envision a hit movie in the making with the three of us being really strong, positive representations of what it is like to be single, spontaneous to new experiences, solo traveling, in your 30’s when so many backpackers are too young to really appreciate what traveling is all about; especially traveling to a special destination like Burma.

One day we traveled outside of Bagan to Mt Popa which is a special spiritual place Burmese Buddhists go to for offerings to nats (spirits) which is home to Mai Daw, the mother goddess of Mt Popa.  Mt Popa should be called Mount Monkey Poop because like everywhere else in Burma no shoes or socks are allowed on the grounds and inside religious temples.  All along the 600 or so steps are piles of monkey piss and shit so you really had to watch where to step.  Of course there are the opportunists trying to make a tourist buck who once upon seeing you pretend to wipe the step in order to ask for a donation towards cleaning.  As expected, The Champion of the People donated while Junko and I called bullshit especially since I had already stepped in piss.

Junko was quite envious that Florence had a moniker and she didn’t so I was on a search for a good nickname worthy of what a fabulous person she is.  Junko is also a free spirit hippie who has an envious jewelry collection from all over the world that she’s collected during her 2+ years traveling.  She is the most well traveled female I’ve ever met having gone to 54 or so countries (although I had to break it down to her that Hawaii is the USA and not its own separate country despite her radical Hawaiian lovers rhetoric) ever since her first trip to India when she was 19.  What’s cool is she travels with this ancient, patched – up blue backpack that at about 40 liters is short and fat that I affectionately call her chubby baby.  That backpack has gone everywhere with Junko ever since her first trip.  Junko loves black men and Jazz so I dubbed her Jazzy Junko and have since shortened it to Jazzy J which I think fits her perfectly.

Junko, Florence, and I had fabulous meal time conversations and more often than not we were giggling.  There was no subject we did not openly discuss and I had the most wonderful four days and felt so blessed to have gotten to meet such phenomenal woman who I view as my new life-long friends and not just temporary travel buds.

I really, really loved my time in Burma and interacting with the most wonderful people.  It is a real gem of my trip and a must place to experience.  I am in love with Beautiful Burma.

I miss you soooo much!

Ness

Do you remember the part in the movie “About a Boy” where Hugh Grant’s character is trying to do good and seeks a part time volunteer gig at an Amnesty International call center and while he is flirting with some random female caller, the guy next to him is doing his job and telling a potential donor that in Burma, one can go to jail for telling jokes.  Well, in the movie they are referring to Par Par Lay who is one 1/3 of the Mustache Brother Vaudeville/Comedy/Dance Troupe.  Back, 40/30 years, Par Par Lay, his brother Lu Maw, and their cousin Lu Zaw (who does not have a mustache) had a very popular act that traveled all over the country performing.  They got national notoriety when they performed  a new act bashing the government outside Aung San Suu Kyi, the only jailed Nobel Peace Prize recipient, house in front of a Burmese audience.  The government, obviously not having a sense of humor, arrested Par Par Lay (Lu Maw somehow amazingly was able to not get caught)  and sentenced him to 7 years in jail.  Par Par Lay has been jailed a total of three times and this is comically addressed during the show.

While Par Par Lay was jailed, Lu Maw self-taught himself English and decided he was going to perform shows for tourists which was the only way to continue on the act since the troupe is banned from performing for local nationals.  They are also banned to performances inside their house so every night at 2000 there is a show held in the front room that has about 8 plastic chairs available, a small wooden stage, and a heavily decorated wall full of mariettes to support another brother who makes them.  There are also a lot of wooden signs that Lu Maw uses to support his government bashing comedy act.

When I walked inside the house, Lu Maw immediately told me I was very lucky because I would be the guest of honor and have the privilege to sit in the same chair Aung San Suu Kyi sat in when she attended their show during her brief release from house arrest.  Lu Maw asked me where I was from and when I said the US, he excitedly declared his love for Obama cause “He’s black, like me!”  Lu Maw must get a ton of information from other travelers because he told us to make sure we all take notes, pictures and update our blogs and Facebook.  The brothers feel it is worth the risk to perform their shows for tourists in hopes the outside international community will help in getting rid of all the oppression that ordinary citizens encounter on a daily basis.  One of his jokes is how Burma is so rich with their three types of electricity:  1) government, 2) Chinese, and 3) generator.  Oh, how our country is so poor with only one type.  Punch line, westernized countries have 24 hour power.  Another joke he told is how he recently made a trip to Thailand to visit a dentist, where he freely got involved with the red shirt demonstrators.  Once at the dentist, the dentist asked, “Where are you from?” and Lu Maw answered, “Burma”.  The dentist then asked, “Why come to Thailand? So Lu Maw responded “Because in my country, I am not allowed to open my mouth”.  Punch line, there is no freedom of speech.  Of course this joke is theoretical because I’m sure Lu Maw does not have a passport or the freedom to openly travel outside his country.

The Mustache Brother’s Show is just not bashing the government for Lu Maw also makes jokes about his wife, his brother who is “#1 Brother, when he dies, I will be #1!”, and the Chinese.  The act is a family affair and Lu Maw’s wife was a once famous dancer whose still beautiful (if not too over made up) face graced  an older Italian edition of Lonely Planet.  A fact Lu Maw is very proud to show off.

His wife and his sister in law perform various traditional dances that were a bit cheesy at times, but also entertaining. For English as a second language guests, it must be a really nice relief to have the non-verbal variety because at times Lu Maw’s English is a bit hard to understand.

The show lasts about an hour and at the end they sell t shirts for $5 which must be the real bread and butter. I have never seen such a variety of colors and designs for a souvenir t-shirt.  They had the Mustache Brother screenprint over t shirts that already had designer slogans or where bright colored stripes.  There were some interesting, one of a kind, mix bag (if not down right hideous) t-shirt selection to choose from.  If Russians visited Burma they would go nuts for it’s that kind of style.

Jo and Tim where too tired to go see the show but I am so glad to have went because the brothers are old (well into their 60’s) and it was fascinating to see a family risk so much to tell foreigners, complete strangers, their true life experiences as an ordinary Burmese citizen i.e., one without government perks of free education or health care.  I feel it was a must thing to do while in Burma and like the sign says above their house, “If you have not seen our dancing, you cannot say you’ve been to Mandalay.”

Much love…

Ness

The government, or Junta, has attempted to “open up” Myanmar and make it more accessible for tourists (The Junta does not like journalists so lie if you are one) which meant I was one of the first people to receive a visa on arrival.  From here on out, I will refer to this country as Burma in support of the people who hate the government and have to live under their oppressive rule.   I could always tell in conversation when a local was against the government because they would refer to the country as Burma and not Myanmar. It was a little clue that they were willing to risk opening up to express how much they hated/feared the government and police.

First things first, Burma is unlike any country I have ever been to and I mean that in the most positive way.

What I know about India is only what I’ve seen on television/at the movies, read in books, or have been told by people I’ve met on the travel circuit.  Of course your description in this blog is just as colorful and chaotic as I have always imagined India to be.  When I was waiting for my Visa the first thing I noticed was the way men dressed.  They all wore the small checkered/plaid sarong longyi and almost all had maroon stained teeth from their betel nut addiction.  When we walked outside from the air conditioned airport we were hit with the most intense wave of heat that I have not experienced since I was in Qatar over the summer in 05.  We got a taxi driver and entered a vehicle that was similar in condition to the car from the movie Tommy Boy.  I was instantly enamored by the sights, smells, and noise of Burma.  I was in cultural heaven while Jo was put in a culture shock coma. They say going to Burma is like stepping back 40 years.  I think 40 years is a bit of an exaggerated stretch, but I would feel confident to say it was at least 25-30 years.  I was quite amazed Jo was in shock because she’s been to Sri Lanka, India, and Nepal.  All countries I have been told that jolt your senses and which I have yet to experience although I think my trip to Egypt prepared me a bit.  By looks alone, Burma reminded me of India, but Jo made a good point and said with the chaotic disaster India seems to be on the surface at least they are somewhat technologically advanced where Burma was not.  She had a good point.  Seeing a person use a cell phone is few and far between.  The land lines are so unreliable that most people with means have two phones lines at home/place of business.  If those lines don’t work there are numerous tables set up along the streets where one can use a phone.  Don’t even get me started on the slow dial up internet and yahoo and all blogs were blocked.  Obviously censorship from the government.

Just like Cambodia, I visited Burma during the death heat  month where the temperatures hovered around 110+ degrees.  Mind you, there is hardly any electricity as the government is really restricted with the use. Most guesthouses have generators but maybe a fan will work if you are really lucky.  It was not uncommon to have zero power and instead of peeing I was sweating the 8+ liters of water I was drinking a day.  I soon quickly discovered the need for  electrolytes and found a Royal-D brand that said it was for those “who lose energy, such as hard workers, sportsmen, athletes, heavy sweating people, as well as those who suffer from dehydration and in hot climate.”  I was an extremely HEAVY SWEATING PERSON!!! The Burmese people are diligent about carrying an umbrella as shade and women/children wear thanakha as a make-up/sun protector made from ground up tree bark.

More than once, a Burmese would excitedly tell us we were 1) crazy to visit Burma in May and 2) ask where are our umbrellas for shade.  It got a little comical at times.

Burma has a really high literacy rate of about 98% and majority speak English since it is taught at a young age.  Unlike Laos where the general population seems over tourists/backpackers, Burmese people are so excited to see and have a chance to interact with outsiders.  Burmese people will stop what they are doing to stare, and they stare hard, but then their faces light up with the most amazing smile and they wave and say hello.  They were thrilled to strike up a conversation and to the Burmese, America is a great country.  They love America.  Once again it was cool to be American.  Surprisingly , I met a lot of Americans in Burma.  A lot of people tune in to the Voice of America and/or BBC radio programs to get outside information which the government has deemed “sowing hatred among people”.  Despite being a relatively closed country (a passport for an ordinary citizen is next to impossible) they are really well informed on what goes on outside the country and unlike North Koreans they know they are being oppressed.

While up on Mandalay Hill, which is a 1700+ step climb to amazing views of the city and surrounding country side, I was befriend by a novice monk who wanted to practice his English.  My novice buddy’s name is Lin Han which is his given name and not his monk name which I don’t recall.  He was from a really poor village in northern Shan State which has historically been radically opposed to the current government.  Northern Shan State is also where the Golden Triangle/Opium trade is.  Every day Lin Han and his two friends walk 2 hours one way to meet foreigners on the hill.  They invited us to their monastery which also is a non-government school for 7000 students mostly from poor Shan villages.  The students get free education and board and there is also an orphanage on campus.  For poor village children,  going to Mandalay and becoming a monk novice (or nun) is the only way to get an education.  In Burma, a novice can become a monk at 20 years of age only if their school is complete (11 grades).  I met another novice who uses the name “Danny” who didn’t start school until he was 12 so although he’s 20 he’s not allowed to become a monk until his education is completed.  The novices showed us around the school escorting us to buildings housing a medical clinic, a library, computer lab, and we even saw their living quarters.  I was amazed that most of the books in the library where English language books and they had a huge massive inflatable globe that gave me an opportunity to show Lin Han where America is because he had never heard of the United States.  He had only been at the school for 3 months and I was the first American he had ever met.  Shreveport was represented on the US map so I got to show him exactly where I was from.  It was surreal to meet someone who had never heard of the US.  Danny told me the first time he ever saw a foreigner he had dreams for months about big people with light eyes.  While we were at the school I met a monk (actual monk not novice) named Owen that  I was instantly attracted to.  He was so beautiful and had the most amazing smile.  Plus, he was extremely smart and was a well read book geek.  He told me the American people had donated a ton of books to their library and he was a huge fan of George Orwell who used to be stationed in Burma when it was under colonial rule and ironically Burma is now a very Orwellian society.  Owen had no fear in telling me he hated the big brother government and told me how his friend was a monk who was a part of the 2007 Saffron Revolution and was now in the US under political asylum.  Owen fascinated me and I wish I had more time to talk to him. We exchanged email addresses and he gave me a website to visit, but I think the site is down because the Google links no longer bring up an active page.

We did the usual tourist site circuit to all the major temples and cottage industry shops around Mandalay but my highlight was spending time with the monks at their school.

After enduring the suffocating heat of Mandalay we decided to go up in the hills to Pyin U Lwin which was the summer resort area for British Colonists.  We took local transportation to get there which means we were in the back of a pickup truck crammed full of people inside and on top of the vehicle.  The inside area was so shallow that I couldn’t even lift my head up to sit up straight and I was stuck between produce and bags of rice.  This is what my “bus” kind of looked like although we didn’t have any onions on board.

Right outside  Pyin U Lwin we drove by the Military Defense Academy which had the motto “The Triumph Elite of the Future”.  Within town the government had taken over the huge colonial style mansions that the British built and it was the only place in Burma where I saw not one, but two Mercedes sedans.  Some of the mansions have been converted into hotels (now almost all government owned) and Paul Theroux stayed here while on The Great Railway Bazaar.

The hotel’s original name (and during Paul Theroux’s visit) is Candacraig, while the government has changed it to Thiri Myaing Hotel.  If you look closely in the middle of the bushes is a flag pole with the national flag which is a clue that a hotel is government owned.

Up until Pyin U Lwin I had been traveling with Jo and another American guy named Tim who Jo had met in Chiang Mai.  I like Jo, I like Tim, who is really cool, smart, and well traveled, but I just got the sense I was becoming the third wheel which I didn’t like feeling.  Plus, up until then we had been traveling to accommodate Tim’s short schedule which was a bit too fast for me so I decided to break away and continue more into the hill country to Hsipaw (pronounced See Paw) which turned into a blessing.  I was so afraid to go to Burma by myself not knowing how the country was, but Burma has got to be one of the safest countries I’ve been to.  Plus, tourist touts are extremely uncommon so when someone approaches it is almost in a very sincere manner.  Such a relief from the common “Lady, You buy from me” that I’ve gotten so tired of hearing everywhere else I go in SE Asia.

On my bus to Hsipaw was a French Canadian girl who I had met at the Mustache Brothers show (more in another blog) in Mandalay.  The French Canadian girl was a trip to say the least.  You know my gaydar is out of whack so I was convinced she was possibly a dyke purely artificially based on her super short spiky, dyed hair cut and her massive amounts of tattoos.  Plus, she was quite a big girl, but after a day hanging out I realized she loved men, really really loved men, and she entertained me for hours with stories of her Nepali and Burmese conquests.  I was in shock and awe.  She grew on me and I really liked her anything goes spirit.

I loved Hsipaw.  It’s a small town with tree lined i.e., shaded streets and it’s a nice place to rent a bicycle and just ride around.  Outside town is an area they call Little Bagan which had one of the coolest trees I’ve come across.

In the Shan language, Hsipaw means Four Quarters which is how the town grid was once divided (it now has 11). The great thing about Hsipaw is that you are not treated like a tourist but as a local and you pay local prices.  There was nothing touristy about the place and I got the real sense I was invited into the lives of the Shan people.  Plus, I had the greatest food for about 20 cents.  Hsipaw is a place where a traveler can really lose sense of time and stay a good while.  I did a hike through rice paddy fields and Shan villages and learned a lot about the local people.  Shan people are very proud and are culturally different from Burmese people.  They are also traditionally against the government and have their own military infrastructure.  Because of the on-going conflict, foreigners are very limited to where they can go within the state and I couldn’t have ventured much further beyond Hsipaw.  Shan State is also where the long-neck Karen is from.  While in Chiang Rai, I went to a fantastic museum about minority villagers and I learned all about the Karen people and how they are exploited in Thailand.  There are no Karen villages in Thailand.  The woman were bought by Thai businessmen for the sole purposes of tourism dollars so they are the #1 most exploited minority group with no freedom to move around and no rights within Thailand.  They are basically zoo animals.  I felt guilty going to see them after learning about their exploitation, but my curiosity got the better of me although now I regret having lined the Thai businessman’s pockets.  Back to Shan, Burma…

One thing I noticed in Mandalay and especially with my monk novice friend, Lin Han, was almost all the men are heavily tattooed with what looked to be Sanskrit writing.  I learned they are Buddhist scriptures that Shan men get around the age of 17 to protect them from harm and evil.  A tattooed man is also seen as a brave and courageous man while one without any are thought to be weak.  I had asked Lin Han about his tattoos and he said his dad did them when he was really little and he doesn’t remember or know why he got them.  I found that a bit weird so I asked my guide and he said his father must have been the village tattoo artist.  The staple food for Shan people is soya beans and they have a saying for when a Shan girl marries a Burmese boy: “If you love me, you love soya, if you don’t love soya, you don’t love me”.  For the most part they don’t believe in eating meat because the animals help provide by working the fields.  Only on the most special of occasions may meat be consumed.  On the topic of food, I ate some of my best meals in Hsipaw to include two really, really delicious spicy noodle soups for the equivalent of two dimes.

I really enjoyed eating Burmese style.  The staple is rice along with a bunch of meat/chicken/fish curry and vegetable tapa like dishes that continuously get refilled until your stomach is about to burst.  It’s kind of like a buffet that comes to your table.  I didn’t have one bad meal…great food country.

Like I mentioned before, the idea to go to Burma was put in my head after meeting the German guy, Richard, who showed me the most amazing picture of sunset at U Bein’s Bridge so I was really looking forward and wishing I could capture similar pictures because his were worthy of a National Geographic layout.  U Bein Bridge is a 200 year old, world’s longest teak bridge.  I walked along, got some ice cream, and just enjoyed the amazing views.  The tourist thing to do is hire a boat for $3 to take stunning sunset pictures and watch the village locals return home at day’s end.

Simply marvelous…just like the country.

Ness

Damn, how time flies.  I have been back in the states over a month all ready and getting ready to go back to Alaska again.  I can remember getting on those 5 airplanes to get to India from Alaska last September like it was last week.  Thailand feels like yesterday.  On the other hand, it seems a  lifetime away now that I found I am pregnant.  As I mentioned before via our facebook chat, I have no doubt in my mind this is the right thing to do.  But the first day I found out, (test 1 of the “2 for 1″ Early Pregnancy Test kit) I allowed myself just one day to mourn a bit.  There will be a certain care-free existence I will never have again.  Now don’t get me wrong, I have all ready day dreamed about strapping a kid papoose style to my back and setting off into the jungle.  As someone who loves adventure, is there anything scarier or crazier than being a mother?  I can’t think of anything right off the bat.  I haven’t told my dad yet so I keep having to minimize the screen when he is walking around so he or the girls don’t peek over my shoulder.  It never seems the right time and I am not looking forward to the overflow of affection, hugging and kissing and all around cringe-inducing dramatics of the situation.  I love my dad.  It’s truly one of those, forget the past, celebrate the present moment “cause that’s all we really got” relationships but ugh, sometimes he makes my skin crawl.  He is easily one of the top ten corniest men in North America and he’s always doing annoying things like rubbing your ears or “Do you remember when you were a little girl and I took you to the Parrot Jungle?” Uh, not really and I’m 32 now so who gives a shit.   At any rate, my sisters are now on facebook and I have to tell them I am pregnant before I say anything on a social networking site.   I wouldn’t want them to find out that way.  All in all, I  did have a nice time spending almost a week at their house and then an awesome mother’s day weekend with Aunt Lynn and the rest of the family.  Seemed an appropriate time to break the news.  To say they were surprised was an understatement.  I think stunned is more the word.  I kind of wish I had a video camera because some of the reactions were priceless.  I think a few people actually jumped up and down.  It was a nice feeling that everyone seemed so damn happy.  After almost 2 weeks of South Florida, I was ready to get the hell out of there and back to Jacksonville where I would be having my first pre-natal doctor’s appointment.  One of the first people I called and talked to about being pregnant was my good friend Colleen.  I don’t know if you remember hearing about her but shortly after I moved to Austin she moved to New York City and a burgeoning awesome life soon ensued.  She had the kick-ass job with Scholastic, the killer apartment in the Village , and a city she was falling head over heels in love with.  Long story short–during a quick trip back to J-ville, she finally reconnected after years of “not right timing” with this guy Mike who is from Jacksonville but now lived in Atlanta.   Flights back and forth, a whilrwind romance and one unplanned pregnancy less than a year later and Colleen and Mike are back in Jacksonville, the parents of a really cute little boy named Oliver.  Colleen now works for Mike’s mom, Sharon, a mid-wife, who delivered her own grandson at home!  I met with Sharon at her practice in Jacksonville and immediately felt comfortable with her.  I’m not so keen on the whole delivering at home scenario.  But I like the birth center idea and knowing that an ob/gyn is next door and a hospital is down the street.  Colleen advised me to apply for medicaid which will cover all my prenatal and delivery care. Total relief should I need it but I am pretty confidant I can get my old job back at Starbucks.  Or lululemon but just in case.  I’m taking a page from the “I’ve been working since I was a teenager and have only collected government assistance for one month out of my life when I got out of the Air Force” book.  Forgive me, I’m getting ahead of myself!  I last left off about SXSW.  Funny, looking back I was exhausted and barely felt like leaving the house, not so much into drinking, having no idea I was pregnant.  It seemed totally feasible that I was just really, really jet-lagged.  Which I was, in addition to being pregnant, so when I say I felt tired, I never felt so tired in my life.  But I rebounded quickly in time for the dun, dun, dun, dahhhhh, Tour de Florida! 574 miles of pure flat country back roads!  We borrowed an “Adventure Cycling Florida” map, charged up our nifty new droid phones complete with google maps and a months worth of Clif bars Fred pilfered from the Iraqi chow hall.  Luckily we went at the perfect time–not too hot, humidity not quite up to sauna like conditions.  Here is Fred and I moments before taking off!

Shortly after the picture was taken, it started to pour.  An ominous beginning but we had all ready gone too far to turn back.  The scenery down to St. Augustine was pretty homely–we had to ditch the more scenic route in favor off the faster one along the old highway since we got a late start and planned to camp a little further than St. Augustine city limits.  St. Augustine is one of my favorite little cities.  It has that strange mix of old money families, gawking tourists, and actual heritage, why it being the oldest city in America and all.  Didn’t you find it totally charming?  I know it’s been years.  We’ll have to revisit because I found the only RAW food restaurant called Present Moment Café that is just sumptuous!  Fred and I checked both Yelp and HappyCow websites to plot out any cool, or funky vegetarian restaurants along the way.  Believe me, sometimes the only motivation you have to keep pedaling after 37 miles in rain is the fact that there is a hot meal you don’t have to cook just 10 more miles away.  I’d say 50% of the time we cooked or ate Subway and the other half we splurged.  One good thing about it raining on us the first day is that every sunshiny day after was so appreciated.  And we didn’t feel bad taking lots of breaks.  It was definitely a curl up with a chai day.  By the time we got to the Faver Dykes State Park, it was pitch black.  Of course we had our trusty headlights but it was still hard to find our site.  Bonus…Hot showers!  I can’t believe how much camping is in some state parks.  We saw some campsites online that charged almost $50 to tent camp!  WTF?  Do you get tent service or something?  Free continental breakfast?  Next picture is of Señor Ponce de Leon himself, founder of St. Augustine and searcher of the fountain of youth.

Peep the big ass puddles from our downpour.  One cool thing about exploring Florida by bike is all the animals you see.  Have you ever seen a turtle with an alligator tail before?  Since when do turtles come with tails?  Had we been driving, we would breezed past one of the most elusive (not sloth elusive, but close) animals in all of Florida, the Key deer, indigenous only to the Florida Keys and the smallest member of the entire deer family.  I couldn’t snap a picture in time before he scampered off!  A labrador is bigger–they look like Bambi!  So cute.  While rolling along the bridges in the Keys, we would spot sharks, manta rays and barracuda.  All through the central agriculture areas, we passed farm after farm of horses, cows, and pigs.  Plus every time we camped, we also had our fair share of cheeky, sneaky raccoons.  One duo, who reminded me of Abbott and Costello–one being small and slight, the other one large and bolder– snatched my stash of tea after repeated shooing away.

Like I said earlier, after some time we finally found the Faver Dykes campground but wound up having to pitch the tent in the pitch dark.  We slept in the next morning since we didn’t really have to be anywhere until the end of the week to catch a ferry from Fort Meyers to Key West.  If we averaged 60 miles a day we were more than fine but more on that later…Our second day was absolutely beautiful.  Not a cloud in the sky!  The terrain was varied from a smooth, black, paved bike lane dream to pockmarked, stripped, scrambled brain inducing, no shoulder even, nightmare.  Overall, it was pretty uneventful until we came upon this place.  I took a few pictures but I think this one pretty much sums up the random assortment of sculptures and “art”.  I don’t know if you can tell the scale of the objects but that purple rooster is well over 10 feet tall.  There were easily over 1,000 objects d’art there and conveniently enough, they were housed right next to the Indian River Fruit Company that doled out free samples of fresh squeezed grapefruit and orange juice.  The closest to a fresh lemonade stand I could find.

We didn’t have any place lined up to sleep that night, so after 60 miles, we jumped at the chance to set up camp at Highland Fish Camp.  I wish I could say Highland Fish Camp was anything but a trailer park with a scummy small pond stocked with fish so 80 year olds with nothing better to do could fish all day, but that’s exactly what it was.  At least it wasn’t $50!  The only cool thing about it was the gator skull on the office wall.  We called it a night by 8 PM to try to get an earlier start the next day as we headed to Orlando.

The roads to Orlando sucked and had heavy traffic but after riding around in Jacksonville, I wasn’t scurred.  We decided to get a cheapy motel on International Drive, close to the outlets (Fred was practically salivating at the thought of the Pearl Izumi store) and the best restaurant on the road trip, Ethos Vegan Kitchen.  I think anyone would enjoy Ethos.  They have Philly “Cheesesteaks” and one of my favorites, Shephard’s Pie to name just a few.  I happen to think my Shepard’s Pie is far superior but I learned from the best, my aunt Rita in Canada.  It was always what I begged her to make for me whenever I visited in the summer.  Anyway, a pretty uneventful day until we got to Orlando.  It turns out, we were damn lucky to get a hotel room.  We took our time at dinner and didn’t get to I-drive until 8PM or so.  One hotel after another had no vacancy.  We finally found a decent place to stay, complete with odd animal sculptures (I’m sensing a pattern here) around the pool which was the setting for the complimentary breakfast the next morning.  It was really good!  They even had soymilk!  That night we just lounged around watching SNL reruns for hours and trying to plan out our next day.  In the morning as we were sitting around poolside eating brekkie we noticed EVERYONE was European.  Oky, there were two Brazilians also but EVERYONE else was English or from the continent.  Come to find out, they were all stuck in Orlando because of the Icelandic volcano/grounded flight debacle.  Some had been staying at the hotel for over a week!  I quickly realized how lucky I have been over the years.  There were many times when I streeeeetched my budget tight.  Had there ever been some catastrophe I would have been screwed!

Leaving Orlando’s hustle and bustle for, quite literally, greener pastures, we biked on towards a town called Lake Wales 65 miles away.  I wonder if the founders of Lake Wales were inspired to try the same bull as the guys who discovered Greenland.  I think it was the Vikings who may have wanted to pull a fast one on early settlers by a calling a barren block of ice, Greenland.  I don’t recall seeing any lake in Lake Wales nor any body of water for that matter.  We did see a lot of old, run-down factory looking, abandoned, industrial buildings.  About as charming as Fairbanks minus the boarded up buildings.  Camping was out of the question–it just looked so sketchy–unless we squatted behind a church but if I recall correctly the next day was Sunday and we preferred to sleep in.  With night quickly approaching, we found an absolute disaster of a place called “The Grove”.  This was one of those establishments that charge nightly, weekly and monthly rates.  The front desk clerk spoke four English words–he was from India–and I had the sinking feeling that bed bugs were in our near future.  Thank Shiva I was wrong although our place was pretty dingy and had that stale smell of white trash.  I’m pretty sure half of the people staying/living at the Grove were on Jerry Springer at some point in their lives.  The police paid a visit at least twice that we know of and we were only there a total of eight hours.  About 12 loud mouthed, chain smoking, Natty Ice drinking idiots were just outside of our room until 3 in the morning and then all hell broke loose.  We were awakened by a fight outside between two guys and the shrieks of some chick who kept threatening to call the PO-lice.  The commotion also woke the 4 kids under the age of 5 up who were all staying right next door to us.  I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there the next morning.  Grumpy but eager to leave the alleged “Lake Wales” behind, we set out to have a good breakfast at some small diner.  We rode around the “Beautiful Historic Downtown” part of the city unable to find even a coffee shop.  When we asked locals where a good place to eat breakfast was, they looked at us with the befuddled expression of “really?” and said as if it were most obvious, “McDonalds”.  After an hour, we broke down and got a coffee and biscuit from Mickey D’s.  I felt so defeated.  I was certain I would discover a hidden gem, a different side to Lake Wales that no one saw but I was wrong.  Very, very wrong.  The only thing open on a Sunday was a bar and a hardware store.  Row after row of prime commercial real estate was either empty or closed.  We couldn’t get out of Lake Wales fast enough.

Not too far out of town, past orange groves and farmland, we passed the most peculiar group of cows ever.  Normally, animals would start running away from the fence as our bikes approached.  This group ran along the whole fence with us and then had to abrupptly stop when they got to the end of the farm property.  It was so cute with all of them just lined up like they were cheering us on, I had to stop and take a picture.  We are only half way into our trip but I’ll go ahead and post this for now.  It’s 2 in the morning and I have to get up early tomorrow and run errands with Mama Sherry.  There is still lots to catch up on.  I hope you are having an amazing time in Sri Lanka.  Can’t wait to hear from you.  Oh!  Hello Kitty stuff all over the dollar spot in Target.  I picked up two stupid cute things for ya!

Miss you much!

B

After my wonderful day bicycling around Vientiane, I got picked up in a shared tuk-tuk to go to the bus station.  While in route, I met a really friendly English girl who just started her solo trip and I think she was really unsure if she could survive by herself.  Since I had been holed up in a hotel room for four days by myself I was as talkative.  Unfortunately or fortunately, we were getting on different buses.  Before I entered my 12 hour chamber of hell I got a pancake crepe with condensed milk.  I didn’t order the condense milk, I just said no bananas or eggs, but damn was it tasty sweet goodness.  Loved it.  Once on the bus, I knew things were going to be interesting when I noticed I was the only westerner.  Everyone in the first 6 rows (I was row 7) turned around and stared at me.  Seriously, full on turned around and stared.  At me.  Finally one said hello, but the others just continued to stare.  I finally just said sabaidee and waved. What I wanted to do was make upside down hand glasses and stick out my tongue.  The bus left right on time at 2000, but within the next 45 minutes it stopped about four times.  Once was to pick someone up, another was for 3/4 of the passengers to stock up on french bread because I guess it doesn’t exist further north, and another was to transport someones furnishings from their bamboo hut.  Seriously.  I had zero leg room because my seat was above a wheel cover.  There was no place for my backpack because the overhead compartments were full of french bread and lychees.  Then to top it off, the aisle was soon full of people sitting on plastic stools.  I had no room to stretch or adjust for 12 miserable hours.  To add to my hell, the driver played excruciatingly loud Laotian music all…night…long.  Yes, my night was indeed long and it ranks up there as one of the worse bus rides ever, if not the worse.  I internally debated whether it was worse than my 65 hour trip to Mendoza, Argentina, but so much time has passed for me to recall just how horrible my experience really was so I felt I really couldn’t accurately assess the two for comparison.  Also, while the bus was beyond packed with humans, furniture, rugs, bread, fruit (you get the idea), I couldn’t find an emergency escape route.  We are traveling at night through the mountains.  I need to plot my escape if necessary.  Unfortunately, my mind would have no peace and I then become obsessed with the fact that there just are no means for escape on Laos buses.  Unsettling to imagine dying from a brain injury caused by a flying metal shelve that should not have been on the bus in the first place.  So I am cramped, people won’t stop staring, I can’t find an escape route, the music is horrendously loud, no a/c, and then I recall how much money I paid for the bus ticket and I start to get pissed.  I felt so ripped off to have had paid $22 dollars for this experience.

When the bus finally arrived into Phonsavan, I followed a tout who took me to a guesthouse I had read about on wikitravel.  Once there it didn’t take long for people to approach me with all the tour options for visiting The Plain of Jars and other areas of interest.  You cannot visit without an official guide so going independently is not an option.  So Laos Guy X did a really good job of explaining the options, but I was horrified at the prices–$80 for a van, $44 by motor scooter.  Oh, but they gave me real good price.  I then realized I was being robbed and colored for stupid because there was just one of me and I did not have another person or three to lower down the price.  I asked why the price was so high and I was given the usual excuses: cost of petrol, it’s so far, blah, blah, blah.  Then one guy told me they have to charge high prices because the dollar is so strong against their currency.  Um, come again?  That makes no sense because the money is absolutely useless out of the country so why should that matter?  Plus, for them, i.e., the locals, $44 or $80 goes a long way,hell $20 does so I felt like I was getting ripped off…again.  I didn’t endure the 12 hour bus ride from hell for nothing so I choose the cheap rate of motor scooter.  I had visions of my great Vietnam Easy Rider trip and I love being on a scooter whether I am driving or a passenger.  Of course, they tried to scare me into the van (more money for the greedy bastards) telling me it was going to rain, but I told them no problem I have a pancho.

My guide came to get me at 0900 and although nice as can be,  I don’t think he weighed more than  80 lbs wet and was too inexperienced to handle another person on the bike so there were plenty of nervous moments.  His English wasn’t the best either and it took him forever to explain anything because after every three words he would ask me if I understood.  This happened all day long.  Yes, I understand that you are getting on my last damn nerve by asking me if I understand.  I really shouldn’t be so hard on him, he was young and intimidated.  The Plain of Jars was pretty interesting, but it wouldn’t be worth a trip unless you enjoy archeology or conspiracy theories.  No one knows why they are there, but I am going to go with the theory that they were used as a burial site.  Some jars are massively big and others are really small. There are a lot of jar fragments as well thanks to the US bombing missions over Laos during the secret war.  All over the field were marking saying if the area has been cleared of UXOs.  No where in Laos do you dare step off a marked path.  Unexploded ordinances go off weekly in rural areas. Sometimes it is an animal other times it’s a human who is victimized from the remains of the 500,000 bombing missions the US did.  My guide also took me to see a huge bomb crater left behind by a B-52 ordinance.  The surrounding area was absolutely beautiful, really green, and full of fertile farmland.  After, the bombed out pit stop, we continued on to a minority village that collects the ordinances to sell as scrap metal or uses it to make everyday items like stilts for houses, garden boxes, tools, etc., etc.

The final stop of the day was a cave where farmers in the local area took refuge from the heavy American bombing.  It was a full on village inside with a school and hospital.  It was also the site of 500 people being disintegrated to their deaths.  The landscape around the cave was very beautiful and the Laos people have made the area really pretty in honor of those who died.  I was glad to pay my respects.  Upon returning to the scooter, we discovered the back tire was flat so my guide said he was going into town (about 7 klicks) to get the tire fix and he’ll come back to get me.  At that time, I was thinking great, I didn’t bring my iPod or a book so what am I going to do to entertain myself, but just after that thought a group of about 5 HS aged boys appeared and they entertained me with their questions and antics until my guide returned.  Hanging out with the boys was a real highlight and two of them spoke English quite well for young students.  They all took my picture with their cell phones and two wanted my number.  ha ha Despite the fun way to beat boredom, I was happy to see my guide return because I was ready for the day to be over.  I got no sleep on the bus the night before and I was ready to relax and eat.  However, as luck would have it, the back tire blows barely two minutes outside the memorial gates and we ended up walking all the way into the village.  I was not a happy camper.  I was trying to not get mad or frustrated, but I was running on empty.  I was not only agitated for having had spent $22 dollars on a crappy bus ride, but I was pissed to have just spent $44 on a tour where I have to walk for over an hour in the hot, hot sun because of scooter malfunctions. Not since Costa Rica had I felt like I was constantly getting ripped off by people who didn’t really even want to be of service to tourists.  I was not getting a very favorable impression of Laos.  My guide kept asking me how I was doing and I kept telling him I was fine.  I really didn’t want my negative energy to spread, but after the 8th time of him asking, I finally told him I wasn’t too happy and I was ready for the day to be over.  Quite frankly I think he was ready to be done with me too.  It was a long day and I got back to my guesthouse two 1/2 hours later than scheduled.

Once back at the guesthouse I ran into Jo, who I had met that morning, and we went out to dinner.  I had a beer and poured out my really shitty last 24hrs, but then I felt so happy to be leaving and heading to Luang Prabang.  Like Hoi An, Luang Prabang is another UNESCO World Heritage town and it is really pretty and a good place to dump your pack for a while which is what I did.  I ended up staying a week and didn’t do much of anything.  Jo and I did a fun bike ride, but the most fun was later that night when we befriended a gorgeous and cool black French guy.  We closed down the restaurant, a bar, a discotheque (so fun!), and a street stall drinking Beer Lao until the early, early morning hours.  A couple of days later I went to elephant camp for two days that was a bunch fun.  I got to get on an elephant (no ladder – just my strength and pulling up with their big ears) and ride one just like a mahout.  I also got to take it to and from the jungle where it sleeps at night and when I was washing her, I accidentally went down the front sliding down her trunk.  A real thrill!  Later on I learned, she is the only elephant who can submerge completely under the water so it was only a matter of time before I went in all the way too.

All in all, I really don’t get the hype about Laos.  There were some gem moments, the north is really beautiful, but not since Costa Rica had I been to a country that just did absolutely nothing to touch my inner traveler soul.  I have to admit I’m a bit disappointed because I had heard so many wonderful things about Laos and it was one of the most looked forward countries of my trip.  Do not believe anyone who says it is cheap because it is not.  Especially if you are solo.  Maybe partnered up it’s a different ball game, but for the single it is just as expensive if not more than Thailand without the same nice infrastructure.

The cool thing about Laos though is meeting Jo and deciding to go to Burma, baby!  More to come soon.  I’m on a roll.  love ya.  xxx

Ness

Saibadee — Same Same but Different from the Sawatdee Kaa greeting of Thailand.  Laos is same same from a lot of Thai things.

After my three hour ride in a 9 person passenger van with 16 other Cambodians and 20 50lb bags of rice, I got on another bus with just one other person to cross the border until Laos.  The border crossing has a history of being really shady and I got so much misinformation about whether I can or can’t get a visa so I kept my fingers crossed and held my breath until I was directed to a little shack with a paper sign on the door saying “On The Spot Visa”.  Getting a visa on arrival worked out in my favor because I saved $10 which just means I blew it on something senseless later that day – like really expensive internet in the middle of nowhere.  After the border, Richard, the German guy, and I got another bus for an hour ride to the boat dock to get us to Don Dhet aka 4000 islands.  I was really glad for Richard because it would’ve been really lonely to be the only person crossing the border especially with so much logistics involved: mini van, bus to border, bus from border, boat to island.  Sounds complicated but we arrived just a little after noon so it wasn’t too bad.  I had met an alternative lifestyle Dutch couple at my guesthouse in Kratie who showed me pictures of the island and their bungalow which I easily found, but it didn’t take long for people to seek you out to stay in their bungalows that range from $ 2 – 4 a night.  It was much, much more spartan than our cute little oasis in Pai.  Just a bed, fan, and mosquito net.  There was a squat outhouse full of spiders, lizards, and cock roaches about 50 feet away.  All the bungalows have nice porches with hammocks to relax and watch life on the river pass you by which is what I did the first day because I did not feel that great.

Don Dhet has a lot of potential for the Mekong is a beautiful green/blue color unlike the milk chocolate brown around the delta in Cambodia and Vietnam with a bunch of little island formations all over (hence the name 4000 island), but it was just blah for me. I rented a mountain bike and rode around the island and crossed over the French built bridge over to another large neighboring island that once had a railroad system, but is famous for a waterfall that was surprisingly large and quite powerful.  The bicycle ride was lovely, but I was a little annoyed that I had to pay $2 to “enter” the island.

Don Dhet is a backpackers hangout and I was told a lot of families moved from Vientiane and Vang Vieng to try to make a lot of money from tourists who just want to lounge around by day and drink lots of beer Lao at night.  Since Laos is landlocked, the river life is the only thing they’ve got to make a beach scene.  However, for my first introduction to Laos people it was not the best spot to go.  Everyone just lounges around all day on bamboo mats in front of a fan in order to beat the heat.  When you go inside their store, restaurant, travel agency, and/or internet cafe’ they act so bothered to actually have to move and work.  It got a bit annoying.  Everyone just looked and moved around as if they were so miserable and I felt sick so I really was miserable looking at all these other miserable people.  I did not see one Laos Smile which the country is famous for.

Since I was starting to feel really sick, I decided to take a overnight bus to Vientiane to rest and recuperate in a nice hotel for a few days.  Plus, I’ve been dying to lock myself in a hotel room for months now to just watch really bad tv and getting sick was finally the excuse I needed.  To get to Vientiane from Don Dhet we had to long boat, minivan to Pakse, and then wait five hours in town for the overnight bus. The bus was so pimped out!

There was a really young, sweet Canadian girl who was on the entire journey with me and although the sleeping bus was way nicer than the one I traveled in while in Vietnam, it was a bit awkward to practically be an inch from spooning someone you just meet 8 hours prior.  For a second I had a little slight heart attack that I would actually be sharing bunk quarters with a monk.  How funny would that have been, but fortunately he slept in the compartment  right behind me.   The buses are definitely made for Asian people and I laughed at the two 6’2 Aussie guys who must have enjoyed a real cozy night together.

We arrived in Vientiane just in time to see the sun come up.  Laos people really understand the concept of making a buck for all their bus stations are kilometers outside of town so you have no choice but to tuk tuk in.  I really, really was not feeling well; my throat and chest hurt, my nose was runny, and I had a cough. I was relieved to get to my hotel and to see that it was as nice as I hoped it to be for $20 a night.

For three days all I did was chat on line and watch a lot of HBO.  Stephanie introduced me to an awesome website where I can stream movies and tv shows so I finally checked out Glee and it is so worthy of the hype.  I loved it!  I only caught a few episodes, but I am dying to watch the Madonna and Lady Gaga inspired ones that are towards the end of the season.  The last day before my night bus, I rented a bicycle and rode all around Vientiane.  Vientiane has a reputation for being the most boring of SE Asian capitals, but as far as cycling goes, it was a really pretty city to spend an afternoon strolling around, discovering temples, and to just appreciate the really wide tree lined boulevards.  I even came across the US Embassy so I got more pages added to my passport since an American I met in Vietnam told me, in the very near future, there will be a $50 charge for the service.  All these SE Asian country visas take an entire page and my passport is barely a year old.

After a wonderful day, feeling 110% better, I left for Phonsavan which is the biggest town for the Plain of Jars.  Unfortunately, it turned out to be 24 hours of hell, but that’s for a new blog.

xxx

Ness