Asia 96 First trip

It was 7:00AM on December 7th 1995 when my jet left Dulles International Airport, near my home in Virginia. On the way to the airport I saw the year's first snow flurries. They would be the only thing freezing I would see till the next year. In the past, my international travel had been limited to the Caribbean and Europe. When I couldn't speak Czech or Dutch, I was able to read, or at least recognize the letters in the street signs. In Asia I still perceived a language problem. Each country has its own alphabet.

My journey to Asia started in the Kingdom of Thailand. An American friend met me at the Bangkok airport. At this time, traveling alone, I felt I needed the security of knowing where I was going, at least the first day, in this new country. It was to be the only city I visited during my ten week journey where accommodations were prearranged. Bangkok was an experience in many ways, and I will get back to them, but on a day trip to the beach at Pattaya, we remembered what clean air smelled like. We soon headed to the tropical south.

On the East Coast of the lower half of the country is the Gulf of Thailand and what I now call the Thai Keys (Koh). On the three hour ferry from Surrathani on the mainland to Koh Pha-Ngan, the second island, a young Thai passed me a card. In a real soft sell he told us of his family restaurant and string of huts on the beach, and his truck waiting at the pier. There were actually dozens of clean, dry cottages. With beds, attached bathrooms with a sink, Asian toilet and shower with fresh spring water, they were only 100 baht a night ($4US at the time). And I thought I had known paradise in the Caribbean. Here the gulf water was warm due to the shallow coastline.

There were signs everywhere renting motorbikes, all 100cc Honda Passports (you regularly pass a family of four, riding together on one). I had to give my passport as collateral, and I rode off and found a few waterfalls on the Island. This was probably the water in my bathroom.

My friend went fishing with a rowboat and a local fisherman who spoke no English. Now my friend Runny had brought his poles and tackle, but the local wouldn't use them. He had fished all his life with a line he rapped around his hand... The two of them caught 40 fish. We commented that in the US, most of them would be too small to keep, but we gave them to the restaurant and that night we had both crispy fish and spicy fish.

My friend went back north to Bangkok, to connect with his flight to India and then back to the former Soviet Union. I remained on these two dreamy islands a few more days before I continued south. I started writing some thoughts down (the beginning of this journal). This was one of the first: The cheaper priced airfares to the other side of the globe usually have you stopping a few times to sit for three hours or more in an airport before you change planes. Even a direct flight is exhausting. My advice to a weary traveler (with the time) is, after you get to Bangkok, just keep going another hour. There is an airport on the island of Koh Samui. I suggest you spend the first days recuperating from the long flight here, on the beach.

I recognize that some of Asia is expensive, but after my trip I'm overjoyed to report two wonderful things:

2) English is the official International language. Not only are there signs, but everyone dealing with travelers speaks English as a second language. It is the common denominator!

I kept experiencing new fruits; Durian, Rambutan, Jackfruit, Mangosteen. The only orange juice I ever saw, anywhere in Asia, was fresh squeezed little Mandarin oranges. In the big cities, most vendors spoke some English, but I was learning a few phrases in Thai. In the food stalls I just pointed to stuff and asked, Moo? Nu? Gai? (the three main meats). One lesson was buying and consuming some delicious Satay (grilled meat on a stick). It was moo, they told me, but it was much too tender to be beef. I pointed to a picture of a cow on a milk container and asked, Moo?" and they laughed... Moo is Thai for pork.

I took the ferry back to the mainland and caught a three hour bus to Phuket (poo-KET), a larger island on the West side of the Thai-Malay Peninsula. This is a fairly touristy place, at least at the exceptionally clean beach areas. I rented another bike to get around. Seafood was plentiful. Grilled fish, Phuket Lobster, live jumbo prawns an shellfish like I'd never seen before including slate colored crabs that were round like a ball and razor clams with long brown shells.

Before continuing south, I visited a The Phuket Butterfly Garden & Insect World. I spent a half hour, alone in an indoor garden with 500 (like I counted) assorted, live butterflies. Phuket had an airport, and I bought a ticket to the first stop back on the mainland. They played Christmas Music in the Airport. I looked around and saw monks and other Buddhist symbols. There were more than a few Moslems. But what was playing wasn't just traditional seasonal carols, but heavy Jesus in the blood tunes. Strange...

I had always enjoyed Dim-Sum, and early in life had the experience of picking among the meat pastries in the steamed bamboo containers. This was of course on a cart in a restaurant here at home. Usually the containers were metal. At times they were no longer hot.

Dim-Sum, steamed in bamboo containers

In Hat Yai, a Thai city near Malaysia, I got to pick the containers, and they steamed them for me in a minute. They were the best I've ever had. Later in my trip I found mediocre dim-sum in most 7-11s, kept warm under the heat of a light bulb. They were the worst I'd ever had.

I went through South Thailand into Malaysia. From the mainland city, Butterworth, I took a ferry to Penang, another island, and checked into a cheap hotel downtown. It was midnight and a parade for Chinese New Year was going through the streets. It was an exciting greeting, just for me. There were dragons and firecrackers, like we've all seen, but I remember people in the procession, taking turns balancing a decorative pole on their heads as they walked. The pole was about 4" wide and over 10' long. With fellow parade participants spotting for them, they would crouch slightly, and spring up, launching the pole, and then catch it, (sometimes) with their heads.

The next day I took a taxi to an area called Batu Ferringhi. I found a guest house at the beach, near a sign that read Klinik. Many signs in English were spelled phonetically. This isn't their alphabet. Hotel signs read VDO or KTV, which meant Video and Cable TV. I feasted a few times at a local seafood grill on the beach, The Blue Bayou. No one there had any idea where the name came from.

Like many similar places, you just picked a plate of assorted shellfish and they cooked it for you, Sauté, Curry, or 'Baa-Baa-Que. A group of coworkers were finishing off a large bowl of fish head curry soup at the table next to me. They invited me to join them, sample the cuisine, and try to communicate. They asked, "From Washington? Seattle?"

"Actually, Virginia," I said, pointing to the words FINEST VIRGINIA TOBACCO on their cigarette packs. Each of them had a large glass of beer in front of them (filled to the brim), and a few large bottles of more beer. When any of them took a sip of his glass, one of the other guys would top off the goblet from the bottle, as soon as the first guy put the glass down!

The food was less exciting after I left Penang and went through Malaysia by train and bus. I stayed in Ipoh and Melaka before arriving in Singapore. This was the most modern city I visited. The water was safe to drink! Signs at the airport directed me to the buses that took me downtown for a dollar and. I eventually found a dorm type room. There were jokes about this country, where chewing gum is outlawed, and the fine for littering is $1000. I thought I'd find it repressive, but the parks were so clean. Everyone can enjoy them; what a concept! All that debate about Michael Faye had been in the news, that American brat they caned. He spray-painted cars!!! In a country with this disposition!

I never liked people who littered anyway (the fine for littering a second time is $2000 plus community service, but remember, these are Singapore dollars, and so that's only about half as many US$).

The next day I walked around the city. I didn't get to the zoo where you can have breakfast or lunch with an Orangutan. I went to a museum of Virtual Reality (disappointing). I found Little India where I had curry served on a banana leaf. Then in Chinatown I ate a few delicious Oyster Balls. I watched the chef take a large ladle of a and batter of fresh oysters, shrimp, pork paste, and veggies. She immersed the metal ladle completely in hot oil that seared the exterior. After a minute the ball separated, floated up and out of the ladle to the surface. Scooped out with a wok strainer, the large nugget was delightful.

I was at the bottom of the Thai-Malay Peninsula. I regret (to this day) not continuing on south to Indonesia. I had heard about a five hour ferry to Sumatra. Wow, Sumatra... But I also heard stories about crime in Indonesia. A fellow traveler told me not to fall asleep on the night bus. Me, from the crime capitol of the world... It was now New Years 1996, and I bought a plane ticket back to Bangkok.

I would come back to Bangkok and the Atlanta Hotel a few times as I traveled. They allowed me to store half of my stuff, and the big city felt kind of like coming home. I saw more of the town. Some taxi or tuk-tuk drivers supplement their income by steering tourists to a restaurant, show, or massage parlor. It's certainly a fact of life in the capitol city, but after the first day, it gets annoying.

I found a neat snooker parlor. I had played on these 13' tables in Barbados and in Montreal, but now I finally learned the rules. They use solid red balls in addition to the regular ones and involve spotting the numbered balls (putting them back on the table) after they go in. Also, because of the size of the table, you often need to use the bridge to make a shot. The bridge girls, as I called them, stood around watching. When the numbered balls are sunk, they place them back on their spot. When you look across the table and realize that you will need the bridge to make the shot, they already are there, handing it to you. These weren't bar girls. It just was part of the ambiance to have someone occasionally cheer for you and share the experience.

I went to a 4 star hotel for lunch.

I often drink iced tea and stir in sugar which doesn't dissolve very well in ice. Here they had sugar water on the table, brewed earlier just for that purpose. This is part of what has to be the best "All you can eat" buffet I could have ever imagined:

The buffet of your dreams.

Table 1, Appetizers: Four kinds of fresh bread. Assorted salads. Red leaf lettuce with tricolor pate, large prawns, mussels, crabs, smoked salmon, herring.

Table 2, Thai dishes: Spicy salads like larb, made with chopped shrimp, chicken, squid, or pork. Plain rice, sticky rice, pad-thai (noodle), shrimp patty, curry, Thai chicken and various fish.

Table 3, International dishes: Tender steaks, duck slices, lamb slices, pasta, baked fish, pork loin, baked chicken.

Table 4, Dim Sum: Choice of about 12 dishes. On my first visit here (of three), I missed this whole table, an enclosed steamer, until after desert.

Table 5, Desserts: Any room left? Unbelievably fancy cakes and pies, many with paper thin, rainbow colored chocolate. Fruits, divinity, custard (flan), and two flavors of homemade ice cream.

After a few days I took the train north to Chiang Mai. Most travel agents and hotel guides only offered bus transportation. Many of them deny that there IS a train. The reason appears to be the inability for anyone to get reservations by phone or computer (this has changed since written in 1996). Here is what the experienced 1996 traveler should do: Go to the train station yourself. Wait if you find the computers are down and eventually buy a ticket for the next evening's train. Check out of your hotel the next day; store your bags, and just hang around or go shopping. Go to the station that evening. A 2nd class ticket with sleeper costs about $13US, and you skip a day's hotel cost.

At about 10PM the porter came through the train converting the single seats into upper and lower sleep compartments. He made up soft comfortable beds with clean sheets and pillows. In a minute, he was on to the next unit, without waiting for a thank you (and no hint of expecting a tip). The next morning I woke and looked out and saw North Thailand. It was like another country. The train stopped for a minute in many small towns. A family with a baby I had been making faces at, offered me some sausage they had. Vendors came through selling food and beverage. I remember there were foot-long pieces of cut bamboo, with a cork in them. The family showed me they were filled with cooked, sticky-rice sweetened with coconut milk. It went well with the meat.

They got off at one of the small towns. As they did, the daughter (maybe 30) asked me, "You want, come see our house?" Because I wasn't expecting this offer, I was caught off guard and declined. If they had asked me earlier, I think I would have thought about it and gone along (I could, after all, get a later train). There was nothing prurient in the offer, and I regretted my decision a minute after the train pulled out of the station.

I arrived in Chiang Mai about noon, and I walked towards the station at the end of the platform. I was wondering if anyone spoke English, and how I was going to find a room. At the end of the platform was a tourist desk, with photos and cards (in English, of course) describing hotels and guest houses nearby. One was on the river and looked like a dream, and was only $5US a night, and if I would just wait here, a van would take me there for free... When you don't expect it, this is the kind of thing that happens to a vulnerable tourist in Thailand.

From Chiang Mai I went on a three day trek to visit the Thai hill-tribes. The hike was quite exhausting for me. A couple in our group from Australia who taught Phys-Ed led the pack. Two couples from Ireland and England followed. Chem, one of the guides, and I brought up the rear. We stopped at a hot spring. We walked through the forest, up and down many hills, but part of the transportation was quite unique. We rode elephants and a bamboo raft for hours. We stopped at a few Karen and Lisu villages, and stayed the night at two.

The elephants took us from the Elephant training camp to the third and final village. We rode in groups of three on each elephant, two in a seat up top, and one of us (me for the first hour) straddling the neck. I actually steered the ship by pressing in with one of my legs (like I could move this enormous head). Nit, the other guide, was walking behind us. He yelled instructions at the Elephants, and shot them in the behind with his sling shot. We got into mimicking him, echoing his directions to the Elephants.

But then someone was mimicking us from above. It was a boy of about four, maybe yelling instructions to the elephants also. He was holding a live, black and amber rooster in his hands. What a sight. This was Atu, our self-appointed welcoming committee. Everyone else went ahead to our accommodations, but I stayed back to wipe his nose and take a picture.

Our guides brought groceries and cooked every meal. The only meat was one meal with dried buffalo fried rice. In the morning they brought us a pot of coffee and water for tea. For breakfast we had jam on toast (cooked in a bread rack that went over the fire), and a fried egg (fried one at a time in a wok). How civilized.

I went on to Chiang Rai and still further North to the Golden Triangle. From Thailand you can see Laos to the East, Myanmar (Burma) to the West and North, and China in the distance. I called it Harper's Ferry Thailand because my home is near Harper's Ferry where Maryland, Virginia and West Virginia meet, with Pennsylvania in the distance.

I visited the Opium Museum, where I read more than anyone needs to know about the history of the black stuff. In one of the four rooms were life sized figures and a realistic museum scene of a guy on his side smoking his pipe. In the rear of the room was a smaller figure of a young child squatting. Under the child was a pile of artistic license!

At one point in Asia I had a dream. This is the truth... I dreamt I was speaking with a girl (back home), but I knew I wasn't there. I said, "You will think I'm crazy when I tell you this, but I'm not really here... I know I'm somewhere in Asia, dreaming all this.....!"

I knew I was not home. Music on my radio was top 40. Thai Top 40 of course. Even Karaoke playing in a club, everybody singing along, and nothing was even familiar to me. But there were many fellow travelers I met (non-Asians kind of stick out) who had stories to tell. I met many people who had been traveling for more than a six month period! People of all ages worked some of the year, and traveled the rest, many with a Lonely Planet Guidebook in their hands.

I had planned to go to Viet Nam and Laos but they both have visa requirements, including a fee of $50 to $100. There were just too many places I wanted to go where I could just buy a ticket and show my American passport. I considered the many neighboring countries a short flight away, and saw Nepal on the list.

Kathmandu airport and once again I looked out at taxis waiting to pounce, thinking the worst. The very first taxi driver made me this offer: "I'll take you to my friend's guest house for free. It is in the center of town. It is $5 a night and yes, they have hot water. If you don't like it, I'll wait with you, and take you somewhere else." This is the kind of thing that happens to a vulnerable tourist in Nepal. As we drove through Kathmandu, I was as excited as if it were my first trip anywhere.

It was late afternoon and I thought about what time it was at home. Do you know, when it’s 6:00 PM back on the east coast of the USA, in Thailand it’s 6:00 AM the next day! Like most people, I assumed the 24 time zones were all an hour apart.

Well, when it is 6:00 in Thailand, it’s 4:45 in Nepal! In all of India, it would be 4:30!!! I now know that there are a few more examples of countries where it is not on the hour. Nepali time is 15 minutes ahead of the next time zone, not an hour (I could never have dreamed this up)! However, I was stepping back in time more than mere minutes.

Nepal was one of the highlights of the trip. Wonderful people who are truly glad you have come to their world. The $5 a night guest house was fine, but I found there were many similar hotels. Some were even less money. For 10 Rupees (20c) they brought hot tea to your room in a silver pot. I can't believe I almost didn't come here.

The next morning about six children were playing outside but none of them had store bought toys. A young boy ran by propelling a bicycle tire by hitting the top with a stick (like Tom Sawyer?); there was no wheel, just the rubber tire and the centrifugal force created. Two younger kids were shooting marbles (they each had one). The road where they played was hard dirt, with large tire grooves. The kids just kind of chased each others' marble. It looked like a cross between Croquet and Golf. Two other girls were playing jacks, and two more were watching and laughing. They didn't have those little metal stars or even a real ball. They were using rocks! She would throw one up, and pick up the other, catching the first. With tears of joy in my eyes I asked, "Gonna go for twozees?" I thought of friends home with their pampered kids fighting over their box full of plastic Christmas toys.

The family who ran my hotel had taken me to their travel agent to discuss a guided tour of the countryside. What they offered me seemed quite expensive. As I walked around Durbar Square a young man pointed to my Nikes and said, your shoes need repair. It was true, my sneaks were split in two spots. For a few dollars he sewed them up, right there and then. I told him it wasn't that Americans liked throwing things out rather than repairing them, but that a cobbler back home would charge me more to do this sewing than a new pair would cost.

That evening a young brother and sister, ages 11 and 7, saw me and ran up to me. They had remembered me from the day before, and they insisted that I come home to meet their family. They pulled me by the hand through the streets to their door. It led into a small dark room with stairs up to another room with more stairs. The residence was built with single rooms above each other. On the third floor, mother greeted me, and offered, no actually she just poured me some tea. Father, who spoke less English, just smiled. He was sitting and ironing clothing they took in, on an ironing pad in his lap... They said their oldest son would be home soon and would I please wait to meet him. His name was Raj Khan, a 19 year old guide. He showed me photos of trekkers he had worked with, who later wrote him thank you notes and recommendations. I knew then I would be one of them. I hired him to travel with me for five days.

We flew to Pokera ($66 for me, $18 for him) and checked into a guesthouse he knew. We hiked up Sarangkot, a small mountain. We first taxied as far as the road went. Then for the next few hours most of the trek was steps. All but a few of them were up. At the very top was a small fortress-like structure that overlooked the view of the Annapurna Valley that was on the postcards I had bought and sent home. There were three snow capped peaks (one called Fishtail) in front of us, and a valley of beauty that was three to five miles wide (to the peaks), and as long to the right and left as I could see. The local kids told me that this night, with the full moon, the snow capped peaks would be lit up like they were in the day. We had left our (prepaid) room in town (all the way back down the hill) but the locals offered us bedrooms with sheets, pillows, and blankets. I think the clean room was 20 Rupee (40c). I fell asleep after dinner and slept through the night, and missed all the view in the moonlight that I stayed to see.

The next day we walked back down (thankfully easier than up) to Pokera. We spent one more day, walking around Lake Fewa. The 2nd sign said Lake Phewa, then still another variation. Just another lesson in spelling their words with our letters. We found someone who rented horses and Raj and I rode the Pigmy Ponies around town, until the little insubordinate threw me!

We stopped at a juice stand and ordered two large glasses of orange juice. The man brought us two that had to be 32oz each! This was more than anyone would want, unless they had a container to take it with them. "I ordered large," he reminded me. We were probably his first customers of the day. There were mesh bags of fruit hanging for sale. "How many of these oranges did you have to squeeze to make my drink," I asked. He pointed to the hanging fruit and said, "About a bag full, for each of you!" They were small oranges, but a bag had at least 25!

We took a bus back to Kathmandu. Many of the other vehicles on the road were large trucks. Many were decorated with colorful designs. One symbol I repeatedly saw on the trucks, and some buildings, was the swastika. Actually it was usually backwards to the Nazi emblem. This hooked cross (which existed before this century) didn't have the abhorrent connotation here that we feel, but was a positive symbol. World War Two must have missed this part of the globe. Many here had no idea what this symbol meant to the rest of the world.

I felt safe everywhere. The whole time I felt the people here were not capable of a violent act. I realize this is unrealistic, crime is in the papers every day, but I didn't see any of it! This was Buddha's old neighborhood. I had to admit, the good nature of everyone I met must have something to do with their religion. This may be an oversimplification, but I was told, they believe you are reincarnated based on your deeds. You can achieve Godlike status, but only when in human form. This is your chance.

I had eaten street food everywhere, and I don't plan to stop, but somewhere in Nepal I started feeling out of sorts. If I had gone to a doctor there, they likely would have diagnosed what I came home to find out. They could have given be a simple prescription for Metronitizol, and I could have stayed longer. Giardia is a bug found in bad water. I had avoided the water, but foolishly consumed some sodas over ice. This American likes his drinks cold.

I went back to Thailand (where all ice is safe by law) to wind down. Although I knew something was wrong with me, I still walked miles every day sightseeing. An area east of the Bangkok, and two bus rides away is called the Ancient City, Muang Boran. There is a 200 acre park filled with hundreds of replicas of magnificent temples, palaces, and monuments from all over Thailand. Some are originals, including a rare scripture library rescued from Samut Songkhram. Many were in ruins but are gradually being restored by a sizable team of skilled craftspeople. If you come during the week you can watch them work. While in Bangkok one MUST spend a half day here.

I stopped in Taipei for a few days on the route home. It was the most expensive part of my trip. Few people spoke English. There were a few nice museums, some filled with the treasures stolen from the mainland when Chiang Kai-Shek fled years ago. It was colder than it was in Virginia so I decided to head home, stopping in San Francisco for two days (my first in California). I had been away 10 weeks, and spent five grand, including airfare and gifts for friends.

There were many places I didn't get to, but you can't go everywhere. I have a few regrets. Many are just photos I wish I had taken, like the Swastik Travel Agency in Kathmandu, or the ubiquitous Thai family of four, riding on one moped.

As I flew home, I read a tourist magazine that appealed: The children at the Chiang Mai Orphanage would love a visit from you, just to talk and maybe hold them. I don't know how I didn't find the time.