Foot, wheel & propeller

One more amazing meal >> Bali 08

2007-03-24T22:33:00.000+08:00

Going home today, so we decided to treat ourselves to one last good local meal at Warung Biah Biah.

The cosy and quaint restaurant (mud walls, etched artwork, hewn wood furniture) had friendly staff. We ordered a combination of Balinese dishes with rice. The food came, charmingly presented on leaves fashioned into cute, mini-plates. The rice has a faintly woodsy taste since it was cooked over charcoal fire. This was one of the most enjoyable meals we had although the bubuh injin was a disappointment.

Then we had to take the dreaded Perama bus back to the airport. Not much choice since a car / taxi cost six times more! Luckily for us, the bus back was air-con and in very good condition, with curtains to shade us from the afternoon sun and only half-filled. ^_^

So we’ve come to the conclusion that the type of buses you get really depend on your luck.

We decided to buy some titbits at the airport since the prices were ‘fixed’. After picking up the items we wanted and mentally calculating the total amount, we approached the counter. We found it strange that the staff was using a calculator to add up the amount instead of scanning the bar codes.

Imagine our surprise when the total amount exceeded our estimate by over 10,000 rupiah! Surely our math could not be so bad? We asked for a receipt since the staff had torn off the price tags. The lady cashier was very reluctant to do so but we insisted. Instead of giving us a printed receipt, it was handwritten so nothing was recorded in the cash system.

Before leaving the shop, we compared the prices on our receipt with the items on display in the shop, which had price tags on them. We discovered that they overcharged us by 10,000 rupiah for one of the items! When we questioned the staff, she was very quick to claim that the item was on offer and refunded us the 10,000 immediately, plus another 3,000 from the other items bought.

Of all the scams / cheats that we’ve encountered so far, this has really got to take the cake! Do they really think tourists are so gullible that nobody will notice an extra 13,000 rupiah? And we thought it was ok to buy things at the airport since prices are ‘fixed’…

But, we did not want the incident to sour our memories of this Bali trip, so issued settled, we went for a drink and spent our last half hour in Bali recalling our favourite moments of the past week.

That's all for Bali. Next >> On a loop - Mae Hong Son to Pai to Chiang Mai

That Singaporean accent >> Bali 07

2007-03-11T23:12:00.000+08:00

Today, we decided to attempt one last walk before going home. Destination? Goa Gajah.

Our guide book says this is a long 10km circuit. But, after our ‘extended’ Campuan Ridge walk, we feel we ought to give this a try, at least.

On the way, we met a very nice American who seemed very concerned that we were walking to Goa Gajah.

“You’re Singaporeans, right? It’s your accent! I can tell because my wife is Singaporean.”

The tall, gangly man said the walk was not very pleasant and was dangerous. Unpleasant we could understand, as it was rather dusty walking by the road, but how could it be dangerous (unless the locals know something we don’t)? Anyway, he pointed us in the right direction and promised to pick us up if he saw us again later (he was waiting for his staff to pick him up after getting supplies).

True to his word, he appeared about fifteen minutes later and offered us a ride to Goa Gajah in his pickup. He even gave up his seat next to his driver to us so that we did not bake in the sun at the back (where he sat)! We chatted with the driver (his employee) and learned that the American had settled in Bali 8-9 years ago, was in the construction business and was a good boss.

When we alighted at Goa Gajah, the American was still vaguely worried (don’t know why) and we assured him repeatedly that we would be fine. Our compatriot is so lucky to marry such a nice man! Too bad we didn’t get to meet her.

There wasn’t much to see at Goa Gajah although the surroundings was quite pleasant.

Met a Malaysian couple with two daughters whom we’d seen at the next table in Café Lotus yesterday. The father said he brought his family here so that he could expose his kids to Asian values and let them learn about their roots as they’d been staying in America all these years.

We took a bemo back to Ubud and observed that both the locals and tourists (us) paid the same price. A poor, old woman boarded midway and when we reached Ubud, the driver actually gave her half the fare back. What a heartwarming gesture! ^_^

We lunched early at Gayatri Café, a popular and cheap restaurant with a varied menu. Since lunch wasn’t very substantial, we decided to have tea at Café Wayan, supposedly famous for scrumptious, fairly-priced Western breads and cakes. Was quite disappointed as we found it way too expensive for mediocre cakes and lousy service.

Debated whether we should have dinner at GreenHouse in Pertiwi Hotel or Lamak and finally settled on GreenHouse as it was just across the street from where we stayed. I had the highly recommended five-spiced duck breast while J ordered the squid-ink pasta. The pasta was a bit too hard (al dente it was not) and the squid slices were not too fresh. My duck dish was quite good though and J also enjoyed the tasting portion I slided on to her plate. Nonetheless, we enjoyed our leisurely dinner until it was time to settle the bill.

When the bill came, we were charged for items we did not order although the restaurant was quite empty (only 2-3 tables were occupied throughout our dinner). After the mistake was corrected and payment made, the staff did not return our change although we sat at our table for quite a while. No doubt it was a small sum but they should still give it back to us since service charge was already included and they should not just pocket the change as extra tips without our consent!

We would go back to Tropical Bale (even though it’s more expensive than GreenHouse) anytime when we compared the attitude of the staff at both restaurants. Maybe we should have gone to Lamak instead, which several guide books have recommended for outstanding, creative food.

Next: One more makan session

Bipedal pests >> Bali 06

2007-01-20T23:39:00.000+08:00

Moved to Sri Bungalows today. Our room was very clean and comfy and the staff helpful. The wooden doors were very ornate but they creaked very loudly every time someone opened or closed them – a very good security measure! ;p

We decide to take another walk, this time around Penestanan and Sayan. According to our guide book, we should be able to cover the 6.5km route in about three hours. After walking for a while, we stopped at a provision stall to ask for direction, as we did not want to repeat yesterday’s mistake.

A local on motorbike told us to keep to the road we were on, though we saw fellow walkers in front of us turning into a side street. Assuming that he would know the area better, we continued down the road.

Soon, we came to a fork and were wondering where to go when we saw the same local ahead of us. He told us to cross a short rickety bridge built over a small stream before climbing a short flight of slippery, muddy steps. By now, we should have realized that something was wrong as there was no mention of such a bridge or steps in our guide book, but us gullible types still believed that the ‘kind’ man was trying to help.

After struggling up the wet, slippery stairs, we landed right smack in somebody’s rice fields. The man offered to show us around, but we refused any further ‘help’. Then, he actually had the cheek to ask for money for showing us this view! We were fuming by now as this was a very dishonest and sneaky way to earn extra money. If he had offered to be our guide at the provision shop, we would have turned him down and be on our way instead of being led astray. 8(

Thankfully, we managed to find our way back to the main road after wasting much time and effort. When we finally reached Sayan Terrace Hotel (superb view overlooking distant rice terraces and the deep valley of the roaring Sungai Ayung below), two locals materialised out of nowhere and very ‘helpfully’ pointed to a path (already clearly signposted) next to the hotel, which would eventually lead to the riverside.

By now, we were wise to their tricks and decided to have a drink in the hotel instead. We decided to turn back after our break and - surprise, no surprise really - those two guys were still waiting next to the path! Their expressions were really comical when they realised that we were not taking the path. :p

This is really ridiculous! These guys are not providing any service at all as we can find our way easily. Besides, they could hardly speak English, so getting any commentary on the way was out, and yet they would still expect to be paid. Anyway, it’s dangerous for two women to follow two men to who knows where!

So today’s walk has been a disappointment, but at least we manage to get some exercise. ^_^ Am really glad we were not pestered at all yesterday, although we stopped to talk with local artisans, vendors and villagers.

Had our lunch at Café Lotus overlooking the lotus pond. It was packed, but compared to the good food we’ve had so far, the Western and Indonesian fare served here was nothing special and the service left a lot to be desired.

Had noodles at Waroeng Noodle Bar, a few doors down from Sri Bungalows, for dinner. We opted for a lighter dinner to save room for dessert (J: yah, we missed dessert last night). The noodle bar was bright and cheery though the noodles were nothing great.

Then we visited Kafe Batan Waru again to sample their fantastic bubuh injin, a warm pudding made from black rice. The version served here has vanilla ice-cream as well and the hot-cold combination is simply sublime! J’s brownie was not bad, but could not hold a candle to the black rice pudding. It’s obvious, from the way she was poaching spoonfuls of my rich dessert!

Next >> That Singaporean accent

Campuan caper >> Bali 05

2007-01-13T22:33:00.000+08:00

We were up bright and early today, as we’d decided to attempt one of the walks suggested by Lonely Planet. It’s a 7km-walk to Campuan Ridge and back, which should take about two hours. Thought a bit of exercise would be good for us sedentary city dwellers…

As we climbed up (J: okay, it was a gentle walk up to the ridge, although I agree with Annie that it felt like a climb to two rather out-of-shape women), fields of elephant grass, traditionally used for thatched roofs, sloped away on either side. Rice terraces could also be seen from far.

We heard dogs barking ferociously as we approached the small village of Bangkiang Sidem and were worried that they might attack strangers. However, villagers whom we approached for directions assured us that it was ok to walk.

When we reached a junction, a sign pointed towards Ubud while another said that there were more paddy fields ahead. Unsure which way to go, a European couple walked by us towards the paddy fields. Thinking that the walk was way too short to end, we followed them - to our eternal regret! 8(

An hour or more later, we must have walked past another one or two villages and more barking dogs. The view was still pleasant, but we were beginning to feel the heat.

An Australian couple caught up with us (Hmm… we must really be crawling for so many people to pass us by. :p ) and we had a nice chat. They’d done this walk some years ago and the roads were unpaved then. Since they seemed to know the way, we walked on merrily.

Then we saw the European couple we met earlier turning back. They wondered whether they were on the right track and we told them that the Aussie couple had done this before so they turned around and continued walking. However, J and I began to feel that we’d missed the turning to Ubud as the walk was taking way too long – even for slow pokes like us! Finally, we checked with the locals and they confirmed that Ubud was back the direction we came – a couple of kilometers back!

Oh no! I didn’t want to walk back the same way again! Someone carry me please! Alas! Despite all my protests, back we went again!

If I’m feeling bad, I wonder how the Europeans feel, having walked to and fro so many times (to ‘check’ with us and the Aussie couple)?

We noticed that the easy-going chitchat and smiles had evaporated as the Westerners hurried back. We continued to stroll along since it was getting really hot and we were too ‘old’ to walk that fast. :p

By the time we hit the main road to Ubud, our two-hour walk had taken about four hours and 7km had stretched to 10km at least! Good thing our body’s not as weak as we thought since we obviously survived the walk.

As we walked wearily along Jalan Raya Sanggingan towards Ubud, I suddenly noticed movement on the road in front. Closer inspection revealed a snake, which had been run over by a vehicle (tyre marks). Ants were crawling all over it and carrying its insides away while it was still twitching! Urgh!

Wonder whether it’s dead and the twitching’s involuntary (muscular spasms?) or if the poor creature’s still alive and in pain…

Further down the road and we stumbled upon Tropical Bale, a blissful oasis from the noon sun. We had a table overlooking some rice fields. The staff was charming and the food, most beautifully presented.

It was so relaxing that we had to drag ourselves out into the hot afternoon. While we were walking out, one of the staff hurried after us to remind us that they still hadn’t given us our change.

You should have seen her smile when we told her to keep the change although it was just a small amount. Tropical Bale was the most expensive place we’ve eaten so far, so we’re really impressed by the staff’s attitude. ^_^

We had dinner at Kafe Batan Waru, reportedly one of Bali’s best restaurants serving Indonesian food. The spring rolls, mee goreng and ayam rica-rica were very tasty and the dessert menu was very tempting, but we simply could not find any more room in our tummies for sweets that night. 8)

Next >> Just desserts

Ubud - food haven >> Bali 04

2007-01-07T22:46:00.000+08:00

Had a very horrible night. 8(

Between the dogs’ demonic barking and howling and the noise from the non-stop traffic, we hardly slept at all! So we had no choice but to move out of Candra Asri Bungalows.

Nick’s Pension, in contrast, was very tranquil and comfy.

After checking in, we took off again - in search of food, what else? :p

We had brunch at Casa Luna, listed in some guide books as one of Ubud’s top choices. I guess one of the draws is its creative international menu.

J had a potato dish while I ordered tofu, done Mediterranean style. The potato came in crispy strips woven into a basket to hold a very yummy mountain of veg doused with a zesty vinaigrette, which tasted of balsamic vinegar. My tofu dish was, likewise, intriguing. I popped a square of the baked concoction into my mouth and my eyes widened. Hmm… it was unexpectedly rich as the tofu had been mashed and mixed with a heady blend of rich, melty, cheese and creamy spinach.

Oh, we also tried tumeric juice, which is supposed to cleanse our internal plumbing, but the taste sure takes some getting use to! ^_^

Dinner was at Bumbu Bali 2, which served delicious Balinese fare. We both ordered rijsttafel, a Dutch adaptation of an Indonesian banquet comprising a wide variety of dishes. After a most satisfying dinner, we strolled around town before heading back to catch up on our beauty sleep…

Next >> A long short walk

Dirty Duck & others >> Bali 03

2006-12-17T14:13:00.000+08:00

Before leaving for Ubud in the afternoon, we decided to head for the beach. Gone were the days when the beach was lined with sun worshippers. Now, you see more taxi drivers and hawkers than tourists…

The bus ride to Ubud was really uncomfortable. 8(

Perama crammed us all into this hot and stuffy minibus with no air-con or curtain to shade us from the noon sun. To make matters worse, J and I had to put our luggage on our laps as the bus did not even have space for smaller bags like ours, after all the available space was taken up by huge backpacks!

We noticed that most of the well-built Caucasians were spilling into the aisle! If even J and I (two relatively small-sized Asians) found the seats too small, I can’t imagine how awful these Westerners must have felt…

A family of three (parents and a little girl) took up a two-seater and a single seat in front and some of the Perama staff tried to move them to the last row of seats at the back. They refused to move, but the three of them had to squeeze onto a two-seater with the little girl sitting on her father’s lap. We didn’t know how many tickets they bought but if they had three tickets, Perama was actually cheating them of one seat!

Along the way, to our amazement, the bus actually stopped to pick up two more passengers - a lady and a kid! And expected everybody to squeeze onto the last row of seats, which was already full of big, hulking men! In the end, one of the local guys (he was carrying several paintings and might be an artist) gave up his seat and stood on the stairs at the exit.

This bus trip reminds me of the boat trip we took in Laos a few years ago. Both try to cram as many passengers as they can without any regard for the passengers’ comfort and safety. 8(

After settling in at Candra Asri Bungalows, we had a very enjoyable coffee break at Tutmak, next to the football field. With friendly staff and good coffee, Tutmak is a great café to while away the afternoon.

We had dinner at Bebek Bengil 1 (Dirty Duck Diner), another recommended restaurant well known for its crispy duck. When the duck arrived at our table, we were quite surprised by its size - it was much, much smaller than what we have back home. No wonder the waitress told us it was only enough for one person when we thought of sharing it. Despite its size, it was delicious! The pasta J ordered wasn’t so good though.

The restaurant has a delightful dining area and the ground is sprawling, but it was too dark for us to appreciate the view. 8(

Next >> Tofu & tumeric juice in Ubud

In Kuta >> Bali 02

2006-12-12T18:44:00.000+08:00

We woke up bright and early today.

Sri Ratu has a lovely, small garden and a charming breakfast nook on the second floor. Our simple, clean and quiet room is directly above the cute swimming pool, which reminds me of a gigantic bathtub! ^_^

During breakfast, we met a nice, elderly couple from New Zealand. They told us they always stayed at Sri Ratu whenever they visited Bali. This time round, Bali was chosen as the destination for a family reunion with their son and his family from England!

After breakfast, we were off to indulge in a Singaporean's favourite activity - shopping! I remembered our bulging bags from our previous trip and looked forward to buying more goodies, but was sadly disappointed. :-(

One of the main deterrent was bargaining.

I'm so used to fixed prices that the thought of having to bargain for every item, big or small, just puts me off. Thank goodness we do not need to bargain for our food!

We had lunch at Made’s Warung, a local favourite in Kuta. J ordered the nasi campur (a specialty of the house) while I had otak (steamed minced fish mixed with spices) and veg with rice. Both were delicious!

Had dinner at Indo-National, a restaurant serving Western food and recommended in the guidebooks. Service was good, portion quite generous though I had expected the seafood to be fresher. Still, it was an entertaining and enjoyable evening…

Next >> beach to bus to Bebek Bengil

Time-out >> Moving

2006-11-26T10:23:00.003+08:00

Hi all

Thank you for visiting!

Am moving to a new place so will not be able to post for a few more weeks. But, expect me to be back next month, hopefully, by Christmas!

I'm also thinking of revamping this blog. Suggestions, welcome.

Safe journey, Annie

An evening in Bali >> Bali 01

2006-10-24T16:17:00.000+08:00

Was quite excited about this trip as J and I last visited Bali more than 10 years ago! We arrived in the early evening.

The airport was quite spacious but not too crowded - which is surprising as this is supposed to be high season. We didn't see many tourists on the way to our hotel either and thought we would see more in town.

After checking in at Sri Ratu in Legian, we went out for dinner and noticed that most of the restaurants along Jalan Padma were quite empty. Maybe there were more tourists in Kuta, but it sure felt way too quiet for high season.

So, despite rosy reports, Bali might not be recovering too well...

J: Ditto A's thoughts about the sights and sounds on arrival. An unexpected break means a visit to this island after such a long time. I can't wait for sunshine tomorrow!

This trip happened in August 2006.

Next >> Will Miz Shoppalotta strike again?

Homeward bound >> Sarawak snapshots 08

2006-10-01T15:10:00.000+08:00

It's time to go home.

Replete with hearty, lip-smack local chow, local hospitality (courtesy of our Kuching friend) and engaging sights from nature, we were a little reluctant to make our back to Kuching airport.

But, as the Chinese saying goes, tian xia mei you bu san de yan xi (rough trans: there is no such thing as an endless banquet). So, we bid our Sarawak friends goodbye and boarded the plane home.

Click thumbnails for a bigger look!

Coming soon » Bali blog

Water sports >> Sarawak snapshots 07

2006-09-24T15:13:00.000+08:00

Today, we made our way to Semantang beach. Unlike Damai, this is a patch for locals.

Our Kuching native knows the man who owns the beach place we checked into earlier. He is a local 'boy' made good, and has been made a Kapitan (leader) of the area.

In person, he looks like your typical Chinese towkay (businessman), in simple shirt and trousers, with a gold Rolex on his left wrist. I forget, but he might have a gold chain round his neck too.

We met him during dinner that night and he was warm and unassuming, putting us at ease with a few friendly words.

The next day, we headed back to Kuching, with a short excursion to the Wind Cave. Ugh! It was dark and slippery with bat guano. Some of the guys and gals enjoyed the attraction. For me, the most interesting thing was not the clusters of batlets (no majestic one sighted) but the few damp stalacites protruding in grotesque spendour from the ceiling of the cave.

Back in Kuching, we checked out the river transport and was promptly caught in a sudden downpour. We ditched our plans to visit Fort Magharita opposite the Kuching waterfront and enjoyed the short river ride across and back in the rain instead.

Click thumbnails for a bigger look!

Next >> Eye in the sky

Naturally gifted >> Sarawak snapshots 06

2006-09-16T15:27:00.000+08:00

Still at Semengoh...

I took more photos than expected. But, there was just so much for urbanites like us to gog at. Some plants we've eaten but not seen when the fruits are still attached to plant or tree. Others, we simply oohed and aahed over. Never mind the names!

As they say, a picture tells a thousand words.

So, click on thumbnails for a bigger look!

Next >> The sun, sand, and erhm, sea part of our trip

Flora & the occasional fauna >> Sarawak snapshots 05

2006-09-09T23:21:00.000+08:00

This morning, we packed ourselves into our rented van and treated ourselves to a slice of Sarawak's bountiful nature.

What we saw at Semengoh Nature Reserve:

Click for a bigger look.

Next >> More flora!

Hunting for oranges >> Sarawak snapshots 04

2006-08-26T16:47:00.000+08:00

After our drive and seafood lunch in Qing Shan, one of our friends, a Kuching native, had a craving for fresh fruits, in particular, sweet oranges.

So, we dropped by the market.

Click on thumbnails for a bigger look!

Next >> Orang Utans

Temple on a hill >> Sarawak snapshots 03

2006-08-19T18:20:00.000+08:00

Today, we went to Qing Shan, to visit the Chinese temple there. That, ostensibly, is the reason for driving an hour out of Kuching for a half-day excursion.

Pleasant drive, gentle scenery, smooth roads; panoramic vistas from the temple atop a small hill, with a Malay village below.

And then, jetty with seafood restaurants displaying their catch of the day. Now, that sounds like the real reason for this junket, if you ask me...

Click on thumbnails for a bigger look.

Next >> Hunting for oranges

Cat city? >> Sarawak snapshots 02

2006-08-12T14:31:00.000+08:00

I was too busy eating, chatting and snapping pics to write.

So just pics, and more pics from our June Sarawak trip.

If you're visiting, have a great trip, like we did!

So, let's start at the beginning... in Kuching*.

Click on thumbnails for a bigger look!

* Kuching in Malay = cat

This trip was made in June 2006.

Next >> Temple on a hill

False start! >> Sarawak snapshots 01

2006-07-09T13:58:00.000+08:00

Hi all,

It's been a while.

I will put up some pics of a short trip I made with a group of friends to Kuching and a few other parts of Sarawak a few weeks ago.

Do come back for a visit!

I expect the pics will be ready in 2-3 weeks' time. After Sarawak, I'll stick to my original plan, which is a blog about the Mae Hong Son loop.

In the meantime, stay healthy & travel happy!

Cheers,
Annie

PS: For a start, you might want to visit these websites to find out more about the flora & fauna of East Malaysia's Sarawak, on the island of Borneo.

www.sarawaktourism.com
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarawak
www.sarawak.com.my
forum.isarawak.com.my/
www.flickr.com/photos/tags/sarawak/
www.borneo-online.com.my/

Tales of a city II >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 50

2006-06-04T10:18:00.000+08:00

Dec 3: Night, Bangkok

Christmas is round the corner.

The shopping areas have been decorated to welcome the holiday season.

So, after dinner, we took a break from shopping to admire the lights twinkling so gayly in the night. Street lamps, overhead bridges, shopping complexes and hotels sparkled with multi-coloured lights, adding cheer to the throng of shoppers seeking bargains and finding gifts for friends and family.

We were feeling a little down as we would end our trip tomorrow when we leave Bangkok to fly home to Singapore. Being bathed in warm lights and happy crowds lifted our mood somewhat and, after strolling for a while, we were able to appreciate the gaiety and vibrant atmosphere surrounding us.

Actually, our attempt to cheer ourselves up at this last stage of our trip started the first day we reached Bangkok. After spending a lot of the last two months out of the city, the constant grind of urban life was rather trying at first.

There was, suddenly, so very many more of everything - people, cars and buildings (really tall buildings) - all augmented by a relentless cacophony of noise and dust. And the aircon in some of the buildings was absolutely frigid, especially after the humid heat outside.

To get away for a while, we ducked into the cinema to watch a Harry Potter movie. The cineplex had many counters for buying tickets using a computerised system. We chose a time slot we liked and made sure we were watching the English version, not the one dubbed in Thai! The sellers were young and chirpy. We got two tics and found our theatre without any problem. It was at least a couple of dollars cheaper than watching the same movie back in Singapore.

When the lights dimmed, everyone stood up. Puzzled, we followed suit. When some foreign teenagers several rows in front of us remained seated, the locals around them quietly indicated they should also stand up.

Then, an image of the King lighted up the screen and the national anthem started. It was a solemn occasion, not an unwanted sound from the audience - no sigh, no cough, no shuffling of feet.

But, once the anthem was played and everyone settled into their seats, we felt the change in the air. Everyone knew they were in for a rollicking time of Quidditch, good-versus-wicked-wizard action and dazzling special effects.

Budget (for two in baht)

Dec 2
Room >> B500 + Breakfast >> B70 + Shoes >> B872 + Groceries >> B133 + Underwear >> B99 + Sundries >> B343 + Hairdye >> B255 + Lunch >> B70 + Drinks >> B98 + Puffs >> B20 + Shoes >> B325 + Supper & breakfast (next day's) >> B103 + Dinner >> B285 + Groceries >> B35.5

Dec 3
Room >> B500 + Shoes >> B199 + Boots >> B711 + Strepsils >> B54 + T-shirts (8x) >> B792 + Clothes >> B1040 + Lunch >> B90 + Snacks >> B36 + Dinner >> B89 + Breakfast (next day's) >> B43 + Newspapers >> B20 + Food stuff >> B520

Dec 4
Taxi to airport >> B189 (incl B30 expressway toll) + Lunch >> B164 + Ice-cream >> B30

Next: This trip ends here. Thank you for dropping by. I'll be back in 2-3 weeks. Oops! Make that a month. But, do come back if you're keen to find out what it's like to swing round the Mae Hong Son loop. In the meantime, stay healthy and travel well! Annie (Jun 4, 2006)

Tales of a city I >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 49

2006-05-12T16:00:00.000+08:00

Dec 1: Night, Bangkok

We are getting used to city life again. That means, for us anyway, loads of shopping and eating, with no pretense to sightseeing. I would have also dosed up on the offerings from the goggle box, except that the small TV secured high up in one corner of our room in Wendy House was not very conducive to comfortable lounging when watching TV. So I gave up on the TV and went shopping with Annie instead.

Wendy House is a no frills but clean guesthose, tucked near the end of a narrow street, behind Siam Square. When we arrived a couple of days ago, we checked out A-One first, but was told they were full for the night. Then, we decided on the dazzlingly white Bed & Breakfast. Our reception was less than dazzling, however.

The woman manning the reception was very unfriendly and only grudgingly agreed to show us a room. She threw the keys to her staff and indicated us. As we moved to follow the staff, one of the guests from the breakfast nook asked her something. Immediately, she was all smiles, her tone oozing honey in reply. Coincidentally (or not), we noted that the few people having breakfast or a drink were all Caucasians.

Thoroughly disgusted, we gave the room a cursory glance and went back to the lobby to let the woman know we were leaving. She took the keys back from her staff and ignored us, turning to banter with another guest. I could feel a few eyes from the cafe corner trailing us out.

After this rather inhospitable experience, we tried our luck next door, at Wendy House. There were two women manning the counter. They eyed us stonily when we asked them if they had a room.

What is worse? To be treated with outright unfriendliness and dismissed like trash, or to be regarded with suspicion and examined like a bug under a microscope?

Just as I was about to give up and suggest to Annie we go somewhere less trying, one of the ladies asked to see our passports. When they saw our passports, their demeanour changed.

Suddenly, the twin arctic blasts thawed and the ladies even managed a smile or two. One of them showed us a few rooms. The stairs were taxing. But, eventually, we chose a corner one, with wide windows overlooking the street.

As the days went by and we got used to each other, Annie and I came to appreciate the no-nonsense and brisk service provided by Wendy House. The counter staff were very watchful about who entered and exited the guesthouse.

All in all, this looks like one of the sturdier options along the street for women travellers, especially those on their own.

Traffic woes

Yesterday, we were stuck in a traffic jam while getting back from Central Ladprao to Mo Chit BTS station. Earlier, we alighted at Mo Chit, intending to visit Chatuchak Market, but took a detour to Central Ladprao for some aircon shopping after we stumbled upon a notice announcing a free shuttle service to the shopping complex.

By the time our BTS shuttle bus got out of the traffic snarl and dropped us at Mo Chit station, it was rather late. So we headed back to Siam Square and visited Chatuchak today.

Children of lesser gods

Having visited Chatuchak on a previous trip, we were there again on nostalgia. Besides, in this monster of a market, we were sure to 'discover' new areas we missed out the last time.

This time, however, the prevailing impression for me was the presence of beggars, prostrate on the paths leading in and out of the market. Some of the men had only one leg and were lying on the road. One seemed to have a wound (bandaged) on his chest.

We also saw beggars in the shopping areas. Yesterday, we walked past many beggars lining the bridge between World Trade Centre and Gaysorn. These were mainly children and women carrying babies.

Budget (for two in baht)

Nov 29
Breakfast >> B20 + Train (Bangkok Noi) >> B50 + Taxi to guesthouse >> B80 + Room >> B500 + Lunch >> B120 + BTS 3-day pass >> B560 + Cinema >> B200 + Postcard >> B7 + Dinner >> B90 + Supper >> B55 + Groceries >> B29 + Breakfast (next day's) >> B32

Nov 30
Room >> B500 + Coffee >> B70 + Bread >> B16 + Lunch >> B60 + Titbits >> B67 + Dinner >> B341 + Groceries >> B109.75

Dec 1
Room >> B500 + Lunch >> B64 + Drinks >> B30 + Tea >> B78 + Newspapers >> B20 + Shopping >> B2228 + Dinner >> B234 + Groceries >> B19 (minus B50 gift voucher) + Cake >> B23

Next... Tropical Christmas

Ugliness on the Death Railway >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 48

2006-05-07T13:54:00.000+08:00

Nov 27: Night, Kanchanaburi

This morning, we took the train to Nam Tok. The train was crowded with packaged tourists.

In one instance, a woman guide told a Caucasian man (not with her tour group) to ask his Thai companion when he asked her if she knew where they were. She said loudly, "Ask her. She's Thai. She should know."

In another display of uncouth behaviour, a male guide plonked down next to Annie. There were other empty seats he could have chosen. Then, a big Caucasian sat down, next to me. He started to crowd me.

When I asked him not to sit so close to me, he said, "It's okay."

I told him it might be okay for him, it was not okay for me. The guide was so surprised that we spoke English. Soon, both men moved off, the Cacausian to a seat in front. No one had been sitting there, so there was no need for him to seat with us at all.

He left at 17

Back in Kanchanaburi, we visited the Allied War Cemetery, across the road from the train station.

All these lives, ended prematurely by violence. Some grave stones marked the resting place of teenagers as young as 17 years old. Others indicated that the dead had left behind children and spouses.

These are the spoils of war...

Our guesthouse, Apple Guesthouse, is within walking distance of the cemetery. We have spent two very restful days there.

The guesthouse's accommodation compromises a series of hut-like units, set in a pleasant garden. Our room is simple, but so spotless that we do not see a single ant anywhere, not even in the bathroom. There is also a rustic restuarant serving very good Thai food, with some northeastern specialties, such as laap (spicy salad for the carnivorous) and sticky rice. Needless to say, we dine there every evening.

Sometimes, Noi, one of the very active owners, would stroll around during dinner, making sure the guests ordered dishes which complemented each other. On our first evening, she took our order and nodded in agreement with our selection.

Buyer, beware

Speaking of guesthouses, the place we stayed in while in Bangkok for an overnight pit stop between Ayuthaya and Kanchanaburi was terrible.

We saw Charlie House advertised in one of those free traveller's magazines. It looked attractive and was in an area we had not stayed before. Telling ourselves we should be more adventurous and sniff out new haunts, we decided to give Charlie House a try since this small hotel had been written as a solid budget choice by more than one guide books.

Bad, bad choice. Our room was nothing like the photos. It was cramped with two sagging beds and peeling paint. It was not very clean either. We spotted ants in the bathroom and the walls of our room as well. Some of these ants were large enough to give us a nasty bite. On the plus side, the lady manager was a very pleasant woman, who made us feel very welcome.

Budget (for two in baht)

Nov 27
Room >> B250
Breakfast >> B145
Laundry >> B15
Train (Nam Tok return) >> B68
H20 & kueh (pastries) >> B20
H20 (3x) >> B15
Lunch >> B30
Bananas >> B10
Dinner >> B264

Nov 28
Room >> B250
Brunch >> B95
Songthaew to Bridge >> B12
Snacks >> B40
Postcards >> B10
Drinks >> B40
Dinner >> B204

Next... Back to city life

War and peace >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 47

2006-05-06T14:57:00.000+08:00

Nov 26: Morning, Kanchanaburi

Kanchanaburi is a surprise, a very pleasant surprise. It is not as choked with backpackers (disco nights at guesthouses and watering holes down river) or as kitschy (tacky Bridge Over River Kwai souvenirs) as the impression we get from guide books and fellow travellers.

We arrive just in time for the week-long annual festival to commemorate the sacrifices of World War Two. Banners annoucing the festival adorn the roads in town. But the heart of festivities centres on the grounds next to the River Kwai Bridge. This is a half-an-hour walk from leafy Apple Guesthouse, where we plan to stay for the next two or three days.

After settling in, we decided to check out the surroundings. It was very hot when we started walking and there was little shade along the road. Luckily, there were enough distractions along the way, one of them being lunch in a shop by the road, next to a patch of parched land.

In this heat, it was difficult to work up an enthusiasm for food, especially of the hot, soupy (or porridgy) variety. But, the noodles were so tasty! We realised we were quite hungry after all and ended up sharing three bowls of noodles and a bottle of ice-cold Pepsi.

Replete and rejuvenated, we tackled the rest of the walk to the Bridge. There, a very different sight awaited us. Gone was the somnolent and almost isolated air during our walk. It was somewhat of a shock to see so many people milling about.

The carnival was already in full swing, spread across the ground on both sides of the small train station (more a stop really). The stalls were packed with all sorts of goodies for sale, from the edible to the usable. The sights, sounds and smells were incredible.

A few of the food stalls selling doughtnuts, cakes and pastries were making them on the spot! Meanwhile, other stalls peddling deep-fried snacks, bubble tea and crispy insects competed by offering as bewildering and colourful a spread as they could display at their compact stalls. There were mountains of food.

As if not to be outdone, the non-edible sections brought out a vast selection of casual and more formal clothing, from rugged jeans and funky (or rude, depending on your sense of humour) t-shirts to smart pant suits and slinky dresses. Looking around, we also saw loads of household items on sale. If we wanted to, we could even order custom-made curtains!

Meanwhile, entertainment (besides people-watching and snacking) came in the form of performances on the open-air stage. There was some kind of schedule posted, but we could not read Thai. It was all so fun-filled and lighthearted that we found it difficult to remember that countless prisoners of war toiled and died constructing the Death Railway during the Second World War.

However, once we walked away from the carnival and towards the JEATH museum and war shrine, a much more sombre air permeated. It was moving to see small groups and couples entering the shrine to lay a wreath or burn some incense. In space and time, how far removed this tranquil and leafy nook must be from the rousing festivities a short distance away, and from the human suffering in the not-too-distant past.

In the evening, we headed back to the Bridge for the Light and Sound show. It was drizzling, but that did not deter the audience, who packed the muli-tiered stands, wearing rain coats or carrying umbrellas. Some did not even bother, seating bareheaded in the rain.

The Light and Sound show was an impressive display. Action flowed seamlessly between the river, the Bridge and the two floating stages by the river bank below the spectator stands. One of the highlights included the dramatic entry of the gleaming locomotive, steaming regally out of the woods from the other side of the river and pausing just after crossing the Bridge for spectators to admire.

Midway through the show, Annie whispered to me, "I wonder what the Japanese are thinking about when watching this display?"

It must not be easy watching the segment depicting Japanese aggression in Southeast Asia, even in this watered down version.

Pillage and plunder, terror and torment. That is the dominant nightmare for many Asians, especially the older generations, who have lived and suffered through the Japanese Occupation. Although there now seems to be little outward anger towards the Japanese in Southeast Asia, it is obvious that many Asians still remember their tragedy, as is evident from the outpouring of anger every time a Japanese leader visit a war shrine where major military figures of the period were interred.

So no, not water under the bridge at all in this part of the world, and not for a long time, I suspect.

Especially as some seem intent on fanning the flames of hatred to fuel their own ambitions. With Japan seemingly on the road to sheding the 'shy' military mein it has cultivated so scrupulously after its defeat by the Allied powers in 1945, such anti-Japanese sentiments can very easily warp into darker impulses. All in all, a potential minefield that, if detonated, may destablise and destroy everything this region has achieved since the end of the Second World War.

I should stop. Enough speculation. However, I am now reminded of a danger, more immediate and definitely closer to home, to travellers visiting Kanchanaburi. Dogs have dogged us since Ayuthaya. Having said that, the dogs here are less of a problem, but we have still been stalked by the occasional over-zealous one.

Budget (for two in baht)

Nov 24
Room >> B500 + Breakfast >> B115 + Entry (Wat Mahathat) >> B60 + Entry (Ratchaburana) >> B60 + Drinks >> B35 + Lunch >> B160 + Dinner >> B40 + Supper >> B65.25

Nov 25
Room >> B540 + Breakfast >> B115 + Minibus to Bangkok >> B90 + Taxi to hotel >> B71 + Lunch >> B199 + BTS (Sala Daeng to Nana) >> B50 + Drinks >> B120 + Dinner >> B105 + H20 >> B10

Nov 26
Room >> B250 + Breakfast >> B105 + Taxi to Southern Bus Station >> B110 + AC bus to Kanchanaburi >> B158 + Songthaew to War Cemetery (for guesthouse) >> B12 + Lunch >> B55 + Internet (2 hours) & Pepsi >> B90 + Dinner >> B200 + Tuk-tuk (Guesthouse to River Kwai Bridge) >> B30 + Light & Sound show >> B200

Next... Iron Rooster on the Death Railway

Dogged >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 46

2006-04-30T12:49:00.000+08:00

Nov 23: Night, Ayuthaya

From Udon Thani, we took the overnight train to Ayathaya, the capital of Siam in the 13th-14th centuries. With the fall of the Khmer-influenced Sukhotai empire, the Siamese gained dominance over the land.

Trying to recall textbook history from school did not help me to sleep. And the conditions in fan class were no help either. This was the first time we booked seats in fan class. It was comfortably cool at night, but the lights remained on. Way too bright to snooze. Then, we were periodically distracted by the patrol, a man carrying a torch and handgun walking up and down the carriages.

Despite staying awake, we still managed to almost miss our stop. We were at the second last carriage and when our train pulled into the station in Ayuthaya at 5.20am, we could not see the sign with the station's name. Actually, the Ayuthaya station was so small that we did not see the station from our carriage!

Luckily, we proved to be fleetfooted when sufficiently motivated. And not a moment too soon, as the train started to pull out again. A station officer on the ground saw us and yelled for the train to stop. We were grateful and leapt out quickly before we became entertainment for bored insomniacs on board.

Ayuthaya is sprawling. The tuk-tuk drivers, unsurprisingly, overcharge as and when they can.

Drained after a couple bouts of futile haggling, we took to self-powered transport. Better to rely on our own feet than to be held ransom by voracious tuk-tuk drivers. Walking at our own pace, we were fortunate to see some interesting ruins.

The day would have been a great one if not for the dogs.

The canine menace was not confined to strays. In fact, our worst scare was from three dogs charging out of a house as we walked by. They rounded on us, barking and baring their teeth. And we were just passing by, walking on the edge of the road, more than a metre from the open gate.

The bo-chap (Singaporean colloquial expression meaning indifferent, cannot be bothered) owner, relaxing in her seat on the porch, just yelled at her dogs, but did not do anything else to restrain them. These dogs snapped at our heels for a few more metres before giving up the chase. Not fun at all.

Home for the next two days

PU Guesthouse, where we decided to hole up for the next couple of days, was interesting. It was like an extended terrace house, located on a fairly quiet lane lined with houses and small shops. It also operated on a bring-your-own-soap-and-toilet-paper basis. Occupancy was good and we could only get a warm box-like room downstairs, where we could hear the constant coming and going outside our door.

Then, the owner told us that someone was moving out of one of the more spacious rooms upstairs and offered us that room, which came with aircon, balcony and the princely sum of 500 baht.

We had not slept since yesterday. We were grimy from our all-night train ride. We had wasted one tuk-tuk ride and precious leg-power looking for accommodation in another part of town. Time for a little pampering. We quickly accepted the owner's offer.

Deal concluded, the nice owner told us we could bathe in the downstairs room while waiting for her staff to clean up the other room. Of course, we had to promise not to mess up the beds in this room!

Budget (for two in baht)

Nov 22
Lunch >> B60
Bread >> B27
Coffee >> B50
Shopping >> B399
Dinner >> B90
Tuk-tuk to train station >> B20

Nov 23
Breakfast >> B80
Tuk-tuk (two trips) >> B50
Room >> B500
H20 >> B10
Drinks >> B20
Lunch >> B40
Dinner >> B90
Ice-cream & doughnuts >> B47
Groceries >> B105.5

Next... A new destination

Much ado about... >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 45a

2006-04-15T14:26:00.000+08:00

Addendum: Charoen Hotel to train station

Nov 21: Night, Udon Thani

Checking out of the hotel was hassle-free; getting a tuk-tuk to the train station for our overnight journey to Ayuthaya was another experience.

Dusk was changing to night and it was difficult to get a tuk-tuk. After waiting for 20 minutes (ample time to walk to the station) on the main road, one tuk-tuk finally pulled over.

There were two young men in the vehicle. The guide books are always warning about getting into a vehicle with more than one man on board. So, we were reluctant to negotiate the fare with the grinning guys.

But, it was getting late and there was no other tuk-tuk available. So, when one of the young men left his tuk-tuk and approached us, we told him we were going to the train station.

Oh dear! He could not speak English. Neither could his always-grinning pal. After trying various permutations of the words "train" and "station", we resorted to sign language and amateur acting.

But, I guess we were terrible actors. They could not understand and kept saying "airport?", which seemed to be the only English word they understood.

A sudden inspiration, and I ran back to the hotel. The helpful staff immediately wrote the Thai words for "train station" on a piece of paper and even taught me how to pronounce the words correctly.

Back I went to the tuk-tuk. The guys took one look at the paper and got very excited. "Ah, Tha Rot Fai! Rot Fai! Rot Fai!" Ha! Ha! Ha!

At last, they knew where we wanted to go! We reached the station in less than 10 minutes.

Assumptions

The tuk-tuk guys were helpful and friendly. They gamely persisted in trying to understand us even when the situation appeared hopeless.

But, they saw us waiting with our bags in front of a business hotel. I think they simply assumed that we were going to the airport, which was probably the destination for most foreign visitors on business. So, even when we mimicked the sound of trains and pointed in the general direction of the station, they remained convinced that we were going to the airport.

On our part, we could simply have shown them our train tickets, but we grew more desperate as our departure time drew nearer and simply forgot that flashing our tics should do the trick.

Also, we assume that it is potentially dangerous to get into a vehicle with more than just a male driver. A wise precaution, no doubt, but I wonder if the reverse is also true. Might not a driver feel safer with a companion, especially if he has to drive two burly males with large bags in a town full of foreigners?

Besides, I think some of them are just around for a joyride or two and to accompany the driver. It must be fairly boring to drive the same routes everyday.

This is a matter of trust and experience. Unfortunately, some rotten apples have spoilt the fruit in the barrel for the rest of us, drivers, friends and passengers.

Back

Among giants >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 45

2006-04-14T15:34:00.000+08:00

Nov 21: Afternoon, Udon Thani

We had breakfast in Nong Khai before setting out for Sala Kaew Ku, the Buddha park on the outskirts of town. The scrambled eggs with ham were very good, but our starch intake was sadly restricted to the dainty toasts that accompanied our protein dish.

As we planned to leave for Udon Thani later in the morning, we were off to Sala Kaew Ku by 8.30am.

This Buddha park was smaller than her sister in Laos and very quiet in contrast. Besides us, there were only one or two other visitors within the compound. The stone sculptures, however, were as impressive and as imaginatively rendered.

Not intending to take too many photos, we did not bring an extra row of film for this excursion. And so, just midway through our walk, we discovered we were low on film and had to husband our remaining resources for the rest of our visit.

After a fairly whirlwind (by our speed anyway) tour of Sala Kaew Ku, we hurried back to the hotel. Our bags were already packed and we settled our bill quickly. Then, it was off to the bus station.

Alighting from our tuk-tuk, we saw a bus getting ready to move out. It was the Udon Thani bus! Some wild gesturing from the bus boy induced us to scramble up the vehicle and, by 10.20am, we were on our way to Udon Thani.

At Udon Thani, we walked from the chaotic bus station towards the eating and shopping places a stone's throw away. Unfortunately, we could not find a budget place we liked. We thought the accommodation choices looked rather crummy.

Eventualy, we 'upgraded' to the neat and trim Charoen Hotel, which seemed popular with businessmen and Thai families. Actually, we had walked into an even better-looking hotel, attracted by the lavish use of glass in its bright and airy atrium. The beautifully coiffured and attired staff were very polite and smiley, but regretably, they could not offer a room to Madam because the hotel was fully occupied for the night. Instead, they directed us to the Charoen Hotel.

At Charoen, we were shown a couple of rooms. We were indicated the one we liked, agreed on the price and discovered we got ourselves a deluxe room, which was three grades above the cheapest. Carpeted aircon room, ensuite bathroom with tub, cable TV, minibar and even an in-house swimming pool. Yup, we had moved up. Yes, indeed.

May as well enjoy the amenities while we are here.

Addendum: Annie's POV

Budget (for two baht)

Breakfast >> B130
Tuk-tuk to Sala KK >> B40
Entry >> B40
Tuk-tuk back to hotel >> B40
Tuk-tuk to bus station >> B30
Bus to Udon Thani >> B42
Tuk-tuk to hotel >> B40
Room >> B750
Tips >> B20
Lunch >> B65
Groceries >> B323.50
Train tics to Ayuthaya >> B512
Dinner >> B119
Breakfast (for next day) >> B57

Next... Overnight in fan class

Man-made lady >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 44

2006-04-08T12:33:00.000+08:00

Nov 20: Night, Nong Khai

Nong Khai is quieter than expected. It is not really a sleepy town, but we find the place rather boring. There is more to do and see across the Thai-Lao Friendship Bridge in Vientiane.

We thought we had to pay a fee at the immigration counter on both sides of the crossing. There were booths collecting money at the Lao side, but when we reached the head of the queue, the lady manning the counter told me, "No need to pay!"

She then waved us away. Rather puzzling because I saw others before and after us paying the same woman. Perhaps ASEAN citizens are exempted? A bureaucratic mystery!

In Nong Khai, we decided to try the guesthouses by the river. One of them, Rim Khong, looked cosy and the people were friendly, but shower and toilet facilities were communal. Not what we wanted. We moved away from the river area after a few more futile inquiries.

Now, we were in a bit of a bind as we had not done much homework before hitting Nong Khai. We did not even get a map of the town. But, since we were in a part of town where food, drink and guesthouses seemed abundant, I reckoned we should be able to settle in a lodging of our liking soon.

As we walked down one of the lanes, we passed by a middle-aged Caucasian, who looked like he knew where he was going. Since it was not very enjoyable trudging in the afternoon heat with our bags in tow, I stopped him to ask if he could point us to another area nearby with accommodation.

The nice man walked us to Pantawee, where he had stayed before. On the way, he told us that he was waiting to meet his Lao girlfriend, whom he was trying to marry. He said with a somewhat resigned air, "But, Lao nationals could not have relationship with foreigners without government approval. So we have to apply for a permit."

Not knowing what to say in response to such a tale, we walked on, waiting for the man to continue. Then, he added wryly, "You had to pay some money to process such paperwork. Or you might wait forever!"

At the Pantawee, the man left us with a wave. The small hotel looked bright and clean, so we entered the lobby. Enthroned behind the counter was the lady manager, impeccably made up. The picture of a savvy businesswoman was completed by a smart three-piece pants-suit. When she gestured energetically to her staff and instructed them in low, smooth tones, they were quick to attend to matters.

Only, when facing the female boss asking about a room for us, I realised she was a man. Statuesque, flamboyant - an eye-catching display of womanhood!

She was polite and professional and got an employee to show us a few rooms. We decided on one and settled in.

Visual bombardment

This has got to be one of the weirdest rooms I have stayed in.

On the one hand, it is a clean and bright but unremarkable room - bed, small table with two chairs, small fridge and dressing table by the door of the ensuite bathroom.

Then, we look at the walls.

Pictures everywhere. Of young, nubile maidens and a good-looking guy or two, here and there. They cover most of the walls of our room and the inside of the front door as well. For a moment, we wonder if we have checked into one of those by-the-hour establishments!

Once we dropped our bags, we scrutinised the impressive display of photogenic models. Everyone was primped, powdered and power-suited. If some of them changed the colours of their suits and skirts into a shade more muted (such as fiery red to cool blue), they would not look out of place for a job interview with a staid and established company.

Oh, look! The candidates had even pasted their resume on the walls. According to their CVs, they were well-qualified to provide traditional massages, hair-dressing services, etc. And in case guests should miss the wall advertisements, there were also booklets in laminated pages extolling the excellent services offered by the hotel and its talented staff.

As the wall decor was rather overpowering, we escaped from our room to explore town. When we came back from our stroll later, we saw our lady manager in a more relaxed setting. She was filing her nails and chatting with staff and guests.

Transvestites seem to be accepted as part of Thai society. The more outlandish members are often stared at, but people are not antagonistic. Rather, they look amused at the display of such flamboyant antics. Still, I wonder how deep this accpetance is when I read articles in the newspapers highlighting passionate legal debates on what to label transvestites on their IDs.

Budget (for two in kip and baht)

Breakfast >> K15,000
Tea >> K14,000
Tuk-tuk to bridge >> B150
Shuttle bus (across bridge) >> K5000
Tuk-tuk to guesthouse >> B40
Room >> B350
Lunch >> B60
Ice-cream >> B20
Dinner >> B40
Milk >> B20

Next... Buddha across the river

Peter, park and pest >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 43

2006-04-01T17:37:00.000+08:00

Nov 19: Afternoon, Vientiane

It has become very hot again. We do not feel like leaving Laos, so we are staying another day.

We have also moved back to Peter's Dragon Lodge, after one day in a swankier hotel. For one thing, Peter and staff are less smarmy. And Peter lets us have the pick of rooms available.

When we complained about slightly danky bathrooms, he listened sympathetically and offered another room. We did not tell him, like many typically uneffusive Singaporeans, but we appreciated his unobstrusive care and concern. When we left for Pakse on the night bus, a few nights ago, he sat with us in his lobby cafe until it was time for us to leave. (As far as we know, it is uncommon, at least until recently, to travel along Lao highways at night because of poor roads, fear of landslides and bandits.)

Once we moved back into his guesthouse, he wasted no time in asking us about the new bus service. Peter was gathering information so he could pass useful bits on to other travellers staying with him. I was loitering in the lobby when I saw a flyer about Tum Tum Cheng on the noticeboard.

Noticing my interest, Peter asked us about the Luang Prabang guesthouse and wondered if he should recommend it to his lodgers. He also asked us about Elisabeth, who ran the guesthouse with her Lao husband. We heard from other lodgers that he was an accomplished dancer of some repute in the country.

We told Peter that we met Elisabeth only once and she was calm and soft-spoken, even when we wanted to bargain for a lower price for our room! It was most difficult to banter about money with such a dignified lady! Our room was spacious, the bathroom was bright and clean and the staff was friendly without being intrusive. The price, though, was a steep US$25 for an upstairs double.

Lonely Planet to the rescue

Yesterday, we went to the Buddha Park, located on the outskirts of Vientiane. In the morning, we walked to the station near the Talat Sao (market) for the one-hour bus ride to the park.

The minibus was already packed when we boarded at the Vientiane terminal, but it was a happy bus. People made way and made room for each other while chatting and snacking merrily.

Then, a tanned-looking man, lips and nails painted blue-black, hair dusted with white flakes, ears pierced by dangling earrings, come on board with a dirty bag across his shoulders. In his right hand, he carried a metal box. It looked like an old car battery. This, he shoved under one of the seats. Then he moved to stand in the corner where I sat. Annie stood next to me.

The girls seating behind us stopped talking.

The bus was crowded. I saw the man leaning against a generously endowed middle-age woman. The woman quietly shifted away. When he swayed close to me, the white flakes from his hair drifted like snow on to my arm.

Unhappy already, I made exaggerated, sweeping, gestures in his direction, flickling the white stuff off my arm. As the packed bus jogged along, more flakes rained down and I become became more and more fed-up. The guy was now swaying and leaning against several people, including Annie. When I looked up at her, I saw my friend ready to do violence.

The silence behind continued. Even those immediately in front of us had fallen quiet.

Luckily, several people hopped off at the next stop. With no excuse to squeeze against the ladies, the man moved a little forward, to the space next to the seat in front of mine. That was the end of the matter, I thought. The three girls behind appeared to relax marginally.

Then, it happened again.

He moved back to his favourite corner. This time, we knew for sure he was leaning and rubbing deliberately against the women because the bus was not as packed as before.

Annie told the man off in English and he moved away from her after staring at her. The other passengers suddenly realised that the two women in the corner were foreigners, even if they looked like locals.

Out of luck with Annie, he decided to try with me. Before he could lean his bum on my shoulder, I whipped out my trusty Lonely Planet: Laos, planted the tome flat on his bum and pushed him away. Startled, he moved backwards and the two of us told him loudly not to touch us.

This spectacle was finally enough to jolt the other watchful men into action. Two of them turned to the man and spoke quietly to him. They looked very stern and disapproving. Then, they stood in front of us and the girls in the back row, maintaining a very respectable gap even when the bus bumped along a rough patch.

The weird man finally moved to the front of the bus. He alighted soon after. The girls were still quiet, but by the time the bus reached their stop at the Thai-Lao Friendship Bridge, they were cheerfully chatting again.

We, like the girls, did not allow that man to spoil our trip to the Buddha Park. We nearly missed our stop, though.

It was a good thing I saw the sign for the park and stood up frantically. By then, there were only four passengers (including us) left, so the driver realised immediately that we wanted to alight.

We were enthralled by the very interesting sculptures in the Buddha Park. Not only did the works appear to represent a melting pot of religious expression, some of the sculptures were so huge that we could walk in, up or through them!

Who said size did not matter?

Almost as intriguing was the sight of monks of all ages strolling happily around the park. Admiring the sculptures, posing for photos and just walking around, these oranged-robed monks added splashes of vibrant colour against the stone-grey monuments.

After our excursion, we took the bus, this time without incident, back to Vientiane. The view of the Friendship Bridge from our bus was an impressive one. But, it was getting very hot and we could not wait to get into the shade back in Vientiane.

The heat had wilted our appetite so we opted for a lunch of spring rolls. Done Vietnamese style, they came with lots of vegetables. It was very messy but so much fun to eat them! And most yummy!

Budget (for two in kip and USD)

Room >> US$15
Breakfast >> K14,000
Lunch >> K16,000
Drink >> K3,000
Dinner >> K18,000
Supper >> K2,000

Next... Who's the man? Who's the woman?

Festive That Luang >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 42

2006-03-25T12:28:00.000+08:00

Nov 17: Evening, Vientiane

It rained. Some roads turned muddy. Other roads had potholes filled with muddy water. It became less dusty though and it was much cooler to walk.

Wat That Luang was very festive. Even before we reached the temple grounds, banners and streamers in all sorts of colors - red, green yellow, orange and pink - decorated the approach.

Within the temple grounds, there was continuous chanting and religious music. Many people came in groups, with friends and family. Everyone wore new clothes, the men more sombre in their shirt-and-trouser outfits while many women chose a vibrant ensemble to go with their sparkling accessories of gold and precious stones.

None, however, could match the rich, gleaming gold of the central stupa, its spires rising majestically into the cloudy sky. People gathered at the broad, square base of the stupa, offering incense and prayers. Smoke, from candles and joss sticks, and the not-unpleasant smell of incense permeated the surroundings.

Outside, many visitors thronged the huge food and fun fair that surrounded the temple complex and its suburbs. Standing out, among the palm trees, was the ferris wheel. A stone-throw away, people milled around the multitude of stalls selling food, drinks, clothes and sundries, their shopping enlivened by loud pop music.

Further away from the temple complex were rancuous game stalls offering more energetic entertainment, such as hoop tossing. For a small fee, a participant got three to five small rings or hoops. Throw (aiming was optional, it seemed) one of those hoops towards the generous spread of prizes, such as bottled drinks and cans of beer.

A whoop of delight came from a nearby stall. Someone had snagged a coveted prize.

Budget (for two in kip and USD)

Oct 17
Room >> US$15
Tuk-tuk to That Luang >> K5,000
Lunch >> K20,000
Entry to Si Saket + donation >> K5,000
Dinner >> K20,000
Dessert >> K2,000

Oct 18
Room >> US$15
Breakfast >> K16,000
Bus to Buddha Park >> K3,000
Entry to Buddha Park >> K6,000
Bus to Vientiane >> K3,000
Lunch >> K14,000
Tea & coffee powder >> K58,000
Postcards >> K3,000
Titbits >> K12,000
Mend shoes >> K6,000
Dinner >> K24,000
Supper & beer >> K12,000

Next... Lonely Planet to the rescue

Heat and dust II >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 41

2006-03-18T10:50:00.000+08:00

Nov 16: Night, Vientiane

The express bus is as fast as the chicken bus.

It took us more than seven hours to get from Savannakhet to Vientiane in our express bus. For some reason, I kept thinking about the hare and the tortoise during this bus journey.

What a waste of money! To add insult to injury, foreigners had to pay more to take the express bus whereas the price of a ticket for the chicken bus was the same, regardless of nationality. Also, this express bus was not as clean as the other chicken buses we had taken.

Midway through our 'leisurely' ride, the driver stopped for lunch. After crossing a bridge, he pulled to the side, where the road curved gently, opening onto on a patch of dusty ground. Erected on this flat land were a few box-like shacks, like the temporary quarters of a construction site. There was a makeshift canteen, a row of offices or dorms (not sure which) and space for vehicles to park.

Ignoring the passengers, the driver and his attendant made a beeline for the canteen, to a table where food was laid out. They ate a tremendous lunch, heaps of white rice with two or three dishes. The rest of us had to make do with over-priced snacks or fried rice or noodles for lunch.

Deciding to eat a late lunch in Vientiane, Annie and I subsisted on our pack of biscuits, bottled water and the last of our M&Ms (Comfort food from home and, yes, they do melt in your mouth, not in your hands!). Most of the passengers looked more than ready to leave this dusty plain by the half-hour mark.

But, not our replete bus crew.

So we waited, languishing in the stuffy bus, hiding under the meagre shade of the canteen or shuffling desultorily in the early afternoon heat. Finally, some forty minutes into our enforced break, the driver slapped on his cap, got into the bus and gunned the machine. We piled in and were on our way again.

At the outskrits of Vientiane, the driver switched off the aircon. Windows flung open; hot, heavy air sunk into the bus, along with fine, light dust. With many people alighting and unloading their luggage, we did not reach Vientiane until half an hour later. I thought we were finishing our bus ride in a swirl of dust, heat and sweat.

But, some 20 minutes later, the driver switched on the aircon again. Windows came down; dust settled. We rolled into Vientiane station.

Addendum

Tuk-tuk drivers at Vientiane station are learning to be the predators that its counterparts in some other countries have devolved into.

This time round, one from this lamentable species asked for US$1 per person (>10,000 kip) for a 5-10 minute Tuk-tuk to our guesthouse. We eventually found one willing to drive us to our guesthouse for 5,000 kip.

Budget (for two in kip and USD)

Room >> US$21Breakfast >> K2,000
Tuk-tuk to bus station >> K3,000
Bus (Savannakhet to Vientiane) >> K80,000
Tuk-tuk to guesthouse >> K5,000
Lunch >> K16,000
Groceries >> K40,000
Dinner >> K49,000

Next... Festival

Tug of war >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 40

2006-03-11T13:31:00.000+08:00

Nov 15: Night, Savannakhet

We arrived at the compact bus station bright and early this morning. We did not have to ask around for long before a bus boy beckoned us energetically.

"Vientiane! Vientiane!" He hopped off his bus and reached for our bags.

"But, we're going to Savannakhet!"

"Yes, yes!" And grabbed Annie's bag.

He was certainly enthusiastic and cheerful, but we were not too sure about boarding his to-Vientiane bus yet. We did not want to end up in Vientiane just yet.

So Annie tightened her grip on her bag and soon we were engaged in a lively tug of war, with the guy pulling us to his bus, chained as we were to Annie's bag. No way were we going to lose our belongings in this ignominious manner. And all this while, the bus boy kept up his vigorous litany of "Yes, Savannakhet! Yes! Yes!"

By now, the passengers in the bus must be thoroughly entertained, judging by the number of faces glued to the windows, avidly tuned in to the drama on the floor.

Finally, the bus boy realised he was never going to get us to board through such 'hardsell'. His driver was getting impatient. The engine was rumbling. He stopped tugging and we nearly careened into him, no doubt leading to more mirth from within the bus. He needed the right approach fast to snag his last two customers.

"Yes, yes! Savannakhet, Vientiane!" He finally said the magic words, confirming that his Vientiane-bound bus would stop in Savannakhet en route to the Lao captial.

Up and into the bus we went, greeted by the stony-faced driver in sunglasses and a sea of stares and grins. Ah, foreigners!

The bus pulled out of the station and everyone settled down to the humdrum rhythm of the road. Although we had provided the morning's excitement, we were still charged the full fare to Savan by the grinning bus boy. They say it is a hard life for an artiste. And so it is...

It was a hot and dusty ride in the 'chicken' bus. During the first couple of hours, we stopped and stopped. At some of these stops, hawkers rushed into the bus to sell roast chicken, sticky rice, drinks, watermelon slices and even toilet rolls!

By then, our bus was very crowded. Sacks of rice paved the aisle, with baskets parked on and beside them. These obstacles did not deter the enterprising hawkers.

Several hours later, we rolled into Savan's bus station. After disgorging its two reluctant passengers and a few other locals, the bus sped off to Vientiane, its final destination many, many, more miles away.

Savan is not as dusty as Pakse, but it feels more humid. Walking around town earlier, we saw many buildings that looked abandoned. In reality, only some were; others had people living in them.

Four- and multi-legged problem

Yesterday, Surada (one of our Wat Phou excursion mates) said Luang Prabang (LP) might have a problem with rats. She said she and her husband saw a rat run across their room in Phousy Guesthouse. While in LP, we saw dead rats on the road, flattened by passing vehicles, but both Sayo Guesthouse and Tum Tum Cheng, our accommodation choices in LP, were very clean.

Then, Alex, another excursion mate, added that her room in Lankham Hotel, where we rented our minivan to Wat Phou, had an ant problem. She also told us that she and her friend had been bitten by the ants and showed us some red spots on her arm. Our room in Pakse was okay, but there were ants in our bathroom, no doubt attracted by the insect graveyard and the wet floor there.

Last leg soon

Tomorrow, we begin the last leg of our Laos trip. We have had a great time so far and I am a little sad to leave. On a brighter note, we intend to eat very well on our last two or three days in Vientiane!

Budget (for two in kip and USD)

Room >> US$8
Breakfast + coffee >> K13,000
Tuk-tuk to bus station >> K6,000
Bus to Savannakhet >> K40,000
Tuk-tuk to guesthouse >> K5,000
Lunch >> K15,000
Tuk-tuk to express bus station >> K3,000
Dinner >> K26,000

Next... Vientiane again

Well-dressed thug >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 39

2006-03-04T14:05:00.000+08:00

Nov 14: Night, Pakse

I have finally finished my shower. My first attempt to clean up was after our full-day excursion to Wat Phou in Champasak. That was shortly after 5 pm. It is now 10 pm.

To Wat Phou

The journey to Wat Phou was enjoyable. Our merry band of six women and a lone male settled comfortably in the minivan rented from Lankam Guesthouse, where Wendy and her friends were staying. Our driver was the strong, silent type, conversing with an occasional word, grunt or look at Matt, designated our communication conduit by virtue of his gender and his seat next to our driver.

So, congenial company and light-hearted conversation along boring stretches helped to pass the time. A sample:
Surada (Matt's wife): "He dipped his food in horse's blood! Vietnamese delicacy. Got sick after eating!"
Alex: "We stayed at the Royal Peacock in Keong Saik Street."
CL: "This was once a red-light district in Singapore."
Wendy: "Have some of these. Don't know what they are, some kind of fruit."
Annie and CL (eyeing fruit and plucking one from the bush under our noses): "Er, thanks!"

Our journey to Champasak got really interesting at the river crossing, as we were munching the unknown fruit (like a kind of crunchy berry). The fruits, still attached to their twig-like branches full of leaves, was supplied by our taciturn driver, who had left our vehicle for a smoke and bought the bushful of fruits from hawkers nearby. By the river bed, some locals were selling fish, so fresh they were still swimming in their cages, half-submerged in the river.

We waited for our turn to cross, then our minivan rode onto the vehicle ferry, which was mostly made up of broad wooden planks nailed together to lay across the curved, hollowed out, bellies of three tugboats secured side by side. Placidly, we made it to the other side of the river without incident, enjoying a light breeze through our opened windows.

We reached the summit of the temple complex after climbing a series of uneven, narrow and steep stairs. The nimble locals, most wearing sandals or slippers, certainly put Annie and I to shame.

Wat Phou would have been a lot more atmospheric if not for the noisy labourers. We visited when the labourers had stopped for lunch. Some had eaten and were singing (nice!), some appeared to be playing games (noisy!) and some were gambling (in a sanctuary still in use!). When they started work at about 1.20 pm, the human noise was replaced by the drone and whine of machines.

Shower, interrupted

We got back from Wat Phou at about 5 pm. The four ladies and guy wanted coffee more than a shower, so they went to the cafe first. Wendy told us this was a new French cafe they had discovered. After agreeing to meet the gang for coffee, we hurried back to our guesthouse to shower off the dust and sweat.

In our room, we found there was no running water. One of the women housekeepers indicated that water should come on at 6 pm. So out of the guesthouse again, to join Wendy and friends.

But, we could not find the cafe. After walking around the part of town where the cafe was supposed to be found, we gave up and headed back to our guesthouse, where, hopefully, a cool refreshing shower awaited.

Unfortunately, six o'clock came and went. And still no water.

At 6.20 pm, we went downstairs to look for help. The man behind the counter got up and went to inspect the taps in our room. Several twists and turns of the faucet yielded no water. Man and tap faced off, in a silent battle of wills. The tap stubbornly stayed dry. Finally, the man said the water would come at 8 pm.

We gave up and went for dinner. We walked to May Kham, where we had a very tasty dinner the previous night. And we met our fellow diner, a 30-ish Dutch woman, again.

Since food was served leisurely, we started chatting across our tables. We recommended the piquant duck. Our Dutch friend told us that this was her second trip to Laos. We all agreed that Laos was a country that grew on us the longer we stayed. When our appetiser, spiced meat rolls, arrived, served by the cheerful lady owner herself, we passed the plate to our friend and she graciously took a small piece. We continued to talk.

Then, our main courses arrived. Duck (again) and vegetables for us and duck for her. Eating alone in a restuarant like this usually meant being stuck with one dish because even the smallest portion was more than enough for one person. Of course, we had to eat the duck with plain rice, just the staple to mop up all that delicious gravy. We got down to the very serious business of inhaling our food and conversation ceased for the duration.

After the meal, we started chatting again and the lady owner was happy to leave us alone after serving us a complimentary plate of fruits. Staff swung by occasionally to make sure our glasses of plain water or Chinese tea were topped up.

An hour later, at about 9 pm, a group of rowdy men and women came in. The women, well made up and in heels, clung to the arms of several men, who were dressed in long-sleeved shirts and tailored trousers. They talked loudly, smoked and brandished decks of cards.

The atmosphere darkened.

Until then, the lady owner was very relaxed and friendly. Now, restaurant staff rushed higgledy-piggledy, at the beck and call of the group. The harried lady owner directed her workers to set up tables for the group to smoke, drink and gamble.

Suddenly, one of the men plonked down at the Dutch woman's table and started speaking loudly and suggestively to her in English. This was the rancous leader of the group, a swaggering middle-aged man with tanned leathery skin.

She ignored him. He ignored us. Then he banged the table and laughed. We decided to leave. The lady owner looked relieved, quickly gave us our bill and sent us on our way.

This is the first time in our visit that we see such loutish behaviour. What makes it most unpleasant is the fear and anxiety we sense in the lady boss and her staff, even as they scamper to cater to the group's demands.

Annie and I walked back to our guesthouse in a sombre mood. When we found water flowing from our taps again, we cheered up somewhat. I got into the shower and had just finished washing my hair and face when the water ran out!

We left our room and found out from fellow guests that our floor (second storey and top floor) had no water again. We thought there was no water because there was not enough pressure to carry the water all the way upstairs. The staff could only stand and grin.

Finally, Annie and I used the bathroom downstairs. It was very nice to clean up after a sweaty, dusty day.

Budget (for two in kip and USD)

Room >> K60,000
Breakfast >> K15,000
Lunch >> K8,000
Minivan >> K100,000 (K350,000 @K50,000 each)
Entry (Wat Phou) >> K10,000
Drinks >> K10,000
Dinner >> K64,000

Next... Tug of war

Heat and dust I >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 38

2006-02-25T15:47:00.000+08:00

Nov 13: Afternoon, Pakse

We took the night bus from Vientiane to Pakse last night, a very comfy ride.

I think this is the first time such a service is being tried out. This is, naturally, more expensive than the no frills 'chicken' buses plying the country, whose services we have relied on so far. It used to be too dangerous to travel at night. Bandits, UXO, very bad roads that could send a bus load hurtling into a ravine, and the ever present danger of rockslides especially during monsoon season: the kinds of hazards that made people very reluctant to tempt Fate.

We hoped that the introduction of this service meant that the current situation had become more conducive to travelling - less problem, more business. We took it as a good sign that most of the passengers in our bus were locals.

More private enterprises seems to be entering the market. This new bus service is one example.

By paying lots of US dollars (steep for Lao buses, anyway), we got two very plush armchair-type of seats to sink into. Everything, from the exterior and tyres to the interior, was spanking clean and almost gleaming. There was even a toilet on board. When we took the cheaper local buses, loo stops usually meant hiding behind a rock (free) in the great outdoors or a foul spot (paid) in someone's backyard.

After we boarded, the very nicely dressed stewardess gave out packets of peanuts and bottled water. The snacks were followed by a tasty dinner of rice with chicken and vegetables. Then came the dreaded video. It was some martial arts flick dubbed in Lao. Also, all announcements were in Lao. Very little English was spoken.

Annie and I don't sleep well (often, not at all) during long bus and plane trips. We both agree that we sleep better on the sleeping berth of a train. I think the moving train's hypnotic rhythm agrees with us.

At 2 am, the bus pulled into a deserted station. The driver killed the engine and joined his crew at the side of the bus, looking at one of the tyres. I could see them from the window because they were on my side. After some discussion and more looking, one of them walked off. One went for a smoke.

Then, they gathered again. The crew started to change the tyre. Work stopped. More discussion. One went off for a smoke. Work started again. This routine went on for over an hour. Finally, we set off, to continue our journey to Pakse.

Last night, Peter of Dragon Lodge sat and chatted with us. We did not have to leave the guesthouse till rather late because the bus office was just a short walk down the street. Peter told us that there were, currently, some 20 to 30 Singaporeans working or doing business in Laos. He, of course, knew many of them. I think he said there was some club that the Singaporeans had formed as a means of meeting fellow countrymen. Occasionally, he also helped with arrangements for excursions or exchanges organised by Singapore schools or organisations to Laos.

We had not been able to book a ride back from Pakse in Vientiane. For some mysterious reason, the bus office insisted that we should check with the Pakse office for the return trip. So if we failed to buy two tickets back to Vientiane, we might break our return journey at Savannakhet, stay a night or two before going back to to the Lao capital. On arrival at the small Pakse office, we were not surprised to find out that the night express we came in was fully booked for the return journey the coming Friday night.

We have been resisting the suggestion from fellow travellers to go to Vietnam and Cambodia. Savannakhet is one of the border crossings from Laos to Vietnam. And now, we will be stopping in Savannakhet. We might also meet the Sarahs again as they were heading to Savannakhet and Vietnam after that. Hmm, that border is looking really tempting. Temptingly within reach...

But, more on Pakse. This is one dusty town. Except for the main thoroughfare, paved like Route 13, the other roads have not been paved. Looks like our trip to Champasak may be a more bracing one than we expect, although I'm sure the intertown roads will be in better condition.

However, our anticipated trip to Wat Phou has temporarily grounded to a halt.

Earlier today, we found out that it was rather inconvenient to take public transport to Champasak's Wat Phou. A day trip was not feasible because it sounded so rushed and iffy. We had no intention of being stranded in Champasak as we did not feel like staying the night there.

And we gave up trying to charter a car or to join a tour after futile attempts visiting a few travel agencies around town. First, we only got to see the general model of car (but not the actual car we would be taking) and then we were quoted high rates in US$. The one agency that quoted us in Baht was cheaper than those singing their prices in US$.

When a budget room for two with bathroom and hot water costs US$6 a night and a double in the Champasak Palace goes for US$20 a night, it is a little too expensive to hire a car for several hours for US$25-50!

Just as we were considering giving up on Wat Phou, we ran into Wendy, an acquaintance from our Huay Xai-Luang Prabang boat ride. I asked if she was interested in Wat Phou. Guess what she said? She and a few other friends were thinking of visiting the ruins too!

They were staying at a guesthouse we had dropped by earlier to ask about its Champasak excursion. I had been drawn to an advertisement offering good rates for minivan hire. Now, it looked like we would have at least five people to share the cost of chartering a minivan (350,000 Kip or US$35).

Hooray! Wat Phou is back on our itinerary!

Budget (for two in kip)

Room >> K60,000
Lunch >> K13,000
Drinks >> K2,000
Cakes + drinks >> K7,000
Dinner >> K49,000

Next... Water woes

Vientiane interlude >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 37

2006-02-17T14:02:00.000+08:00

Nov 11: Night, Vientiane

We are going to Pakse, then on to Champasak to visit Wat Phou, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Can't wait to see the ruins, built from the 6th to 12th centuries by the Khmers on the mountain slope.

For some pre-trip prep, we decided to spend a little time wandering around Vientiane in search of information. The Lao Tourism office was useless. Exotissmo, which sold expensive tours, took the trouble to tell and show us where to buy tickets for the express bus to Pakse, though they did not sell such tickets. Lao Youth Travel also told us where to buy the tics, how much they cost and showed us the schedule. The lady we asked even called to confirm the bus company had tickets to sell for the next run before telling us to go to the bus office to buy the tickets ourselves.

After the morning's fact-finding excursion, we went back to our guesthouse to pack. We were moving to Dragon Lodge.

When we went to the lobby to settle our bill, we saw two large backpacks. Sitting on one of them was our British friend, Sarah. The other Sarah was checking in. Annie and I were happy to see them again. Since everyone was busy moving, we decided to meet for lunch later.

This trip has been extremely precious. It is fun to run into other travellers who have befriended us along the way. It is a wonderful feeling to see a familiar face or two after some time in a strange place full of strangers you cannot or have yet to get to know.

Shortly after noon, we met the two Sarahs as planned. We ate lunch in a small shop selling delicious duck rice. When it looked like we had stayed too long (the wait staff had long ago cleared our plates and was eyeing us discreetly), we continued our chit-chat in a nearby cafe. The ladies were off to Savannakhet next, before heading for Vietnam. We might run into them again. If not, we might meet in Singapore a few months later. We exchanged emails and parted.

Monday is still a quiet day in Vientiane although there are more traffic and people on the roads, compared to somnolent Sunday.

Still, some locals told us that traffic had thickened, compared to three years ago. First, more motorbikes apppeared; then came more cars, they said rather wistfully.

Being typical city dwellers, however, we reckon Vientiane would be even more bustling. Nonetheless, we are glad that Vientiane has not yet gone the way of other polluted, congested, cities in this region.

Vientiane, with enough creature comforts for the urban-oriented, is a most charming place to while away a few relaxing days.

Budget (for two in kip and USD)

Nov 11
Room >> US$15
Breakfast >> K16,000
H2O >> K1,000
Lunch >> K24,000
Coffee >> K13,000
Dinner >> K14,000
Cakes + H2O >> K6,000
Bus to Pakse (advance) >> US$24

Nov 12
Breakfast >> K14,000
Internet >> K6,000
Lunch >> K14,000
Coffee >> K18,000
Dinner >> K20,000
Supper >> K2,000
Drinks >> K3,000

Next... First night bus to Pakse

A Sunday in Vientiane >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 36

2006-02-15T11:30:00.000+08:00

Nov 10: Mid-afternoon, Vientiane

Leaving Vang Vieng, we took the bus to Vientiane. We bought our tickets on board and it was 1,000 kip cheaper than the price at the station.

Naturally, there was an endless stream of loading and unloading of goods, including rice, vegetables and even a bike or two. Our bus driver also seemed to stop and pick up passengers at every village we passed through.

During the more winding stretches, people on board looked sick. Oh oh. Then, someone started to distribute the puke bags. Oh, oh.

We braced ourselves for another ride with vomitting neighbours, but luckily, our route never became too demanding on the stomach and only a few people in the front of the bus suffered. This time round, the local passengers also appeared more prepared to cope with the heaves. Some brandished medicated oil while others abstained from snacking while travelling.

An hour or so before we reached Vientiane, our bus got really crowded. People from the outskirts seemed to be converging on the capital. Work? Business? Family? We could only guess.

Having already paid the tuk-tuk driver handsomely for the five-minute ride from the bus terminal to the coffee shop near the guesthouse we wanted to check out, we were extremely displeased when he parked his vehicle and waited to see which guesthouse we were going to walk into. We did not want to pay his touting commission as we were the ones who told him to take us to our destination, so we waited for him to drive off. He finally gave up when we continued to perch on the pavement like we had all day to do nothing.

Phonepaseuth Guesthouse's manager was very welcoming and obligingly showed us a few rooms. After we checked in, he told us that a few days earlier, a Singaporean couple also stayed there. This couple later rented a car and driver for the long drive to Luang Prabang for an eye-popping US$200. Wait, it might have been a bit cheaper, like US$180, but my mind had been quite scrambled by the mention of such a handsome sum for a mere car ride!

So, someone had spent a small fortune on transport and, from the hopeful tone of the manager, I wondered if he was thinking we might provide further custom. Catching each other's eyes, Annie and I did not think we should enlighten him that we had travelled the Luang Prabang-Phonsavan-Vang Vieng-Vientiane circuit for less than US$30 for two persons.

Of course, one cannot compare the spartan environs of a 'chicken' (local) bus to the luxurious option of your own chauffeur-driven car. Also, having your own vehicle gives you the flexibility of stopping at places you like for breaks or to frame that once-in-a-lifetime photo. I bet that makes for travel tales of a different kind.

After lunch, we walked around Vientiane and found the Dragon Lodge. The exterior was a rather awful shade of vermillion (Annie thought the colour was more pink). After some hesitation, we walked in.

The interior was much more salubrious. The owner, we discovered to our surprise, was a Singaporean. Peter had been in Laos for eight years and was now the proud owner of Dragon Lodge. He gave us a tour of his place.

The rooms were a little cheaper and more spacious than our current abode. The interior was tastefully furnished and included a few artfully-angled rooms, courtesy of the semi-circular shape of the building. When we complimented him on his in-house decor, he said he scoured around for some of the pieces himself. We made plans to move in the next day.

As expected, Vientiane is expensive. But, Annie and I agree that the city gives better value than Yangon. We like the accommodation and food in Vientiane more. Yangon, though, is much more bustling as a city. Vientiane, on the other hand, is like a town growing into a city.
Pho (soup noodles) is 7,000 to 8,000 kip here, compared to 5,000 to 6,000 kip elsewhere. Even the Scandinavian Bakery is more expensive, and I thought the one in Luang Prabang is already quite dear!

Sunday is a very quiet day. Many shops are closed. There is little traffic. There also seems to be more foreigners out on the streets. Where are the local people? The exceptions are the teeming Talat Sao (morning market) and the busy bus terminal nearby.

Budget (for two in kip and USD)

Bus to Vientiane >> K12,000
Room >> US$17
Breakfast >> K14,000
Tuk-tuk to hotel >> K5,000
Drinks >> K5,000
Tea >> K13,000
Dinner >> K27,000
Coffee & titbits >> K8,000

Next... We meet again

A lazy day in Vang Vieng >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 35

2006-02-07T12:54:00.000+08:00

Nov 8: Afternoon, Vang Vieng

Ah. It is back to hot and dusty for us in Vang Vieng, rather than cold and dusty in Phonsavan. But really, once out of the main road and various construction projects, Vang Vieng is very OK.

More than OK, actually, with lots of beautiful scenery. Like so many parts of Laos we have seen so far, Vang Vieng also possesses its share of postcard scenes and scenery.

We are spending the rest of this afternoon lazing around. Vang Vieng is like that. You can simply laze, laze, laze.

Or you can get up and go. Go tubing (sit IN a tyre and raft down the river), explore caves, or check out the countryside on a bike.

Earlier, we did our usual. Walk.

We walked the riverside, walked past villages and walked some more. That's what I like when travelling. There is often this sense of space that I don't find cooped up in an office, ensconed behind the desk, the moat for a castle of paperwork.

As we grow older, it seems to Annie and I that fresh air, space and the freedom not to rush for the next big thing are becoming increasingly valuable to us. And out of the drone-like bustle of the cities in Asia, life elsewhere in Asia looks compelling to us without the city-dwellers' compulsive charge from one adrenalin rush to another.

But, I know I'm a city creature. So is Annie, I'm guessing. I love the space and freedom to wander. And I know that living and working in the city have given me the bonus of that freedom.

So, for us, travelling to places very different from Singapore is a chance to recharge. When it is time to leave, we can go home with a better appreciation of not just our travels but also the place we call home.

Aiyoh, the sun must be getting to me. So, enough philosophising. Now, where was I? Oh yes, our walk earlier.

We walked into a morning market selling vegetables, seafood and dry goods. The market spilled from its covered location into the alleys linked to it. At certain spots, everyone had to inch their way forward, giving the sellers ample time to show off their wares to the crawling traffic.

Leaving the market, we saw a woman wading into the Nam (river) Song. When deep enough, she hauled up a small bamboo trap from the river. The trap was long, almost oblong in shape, and it was filled with fish.

When we walked back to the market a little later, we saw the same lady pouring her catch into a couple of metal basins perched on stools. Her stall set up with fresh goods, she was all set to do busines.

After our morning junket, we ate lunch and was just strolling the main drag wondering about tubing when we ran into more acquaintances from our Huay Xai-Luang Prabang boat trip. Among them were two British women with the same first name, Sarah. Sarah said they were going to Singapore in January.

We are now seating in an outdoor cafe. I'm sipping a cold pineapple drink and watching a man standing knee-deep in the river below. He is binding thin tree trunks and branches together to build a bridge.

Hmm, that reminds me: we will cross the wooden bridge by the Nam Song Hotel tomorrow and take a walk in the countryside across the river. As I watch the man in the water and the half-made bridge, I think about what Annie and I saw earlier today.

That bridge by the Nam Song Hotel was in two parts. The first part ended abruptly after the toll booth (we have been told we have to pay to use this bridge). From land, we saw its dip into the river. People walked to the edge, took off their shoes and walked or pushed their bikes in the river for a few metres. Then, the second part of the bridge rose out of the water and they continued on the bridge to dry land.

That should make for an eventful crossing tomorrow.

Budget (for two in kip and USD)

Nov 8
Room >> K40,000
Breakfast >> K7,000
Titbits (v expensive) >> K18,000
Drinks >> K6,000
Lunch >> K15,000
Drinks >> K6,000
Dinner >> K33,000

Nov 9
Room >> K40,000
Breakfast >> K15,000
Bread (for tea) >> K7,000
Bridge toll (return) >> K4,000
Lunch >> K26,000
Dinner >> K16,000
Pancake >> K5,000

Next... Off to Vientiane

Xin nian kuai le, wan shi ru yi!

2006-01-27T21:18:00.000+08:00

Wishing everyone
Health & wealth
In the Year of the Dog!

Altitude bussing >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 34

2006-01-21T14:39:00.000+08:00

Nov 7: Night, Vang Vieng

It was a cool morning when we checked out of our nearly deserted guesthouse. Our lady proprietress looked sorry to see us go. As it was rather early, the shops were closed. On the walkway, however, a woman seating on a stool was selling crepes. The smell from her makeshift stall was most tantalising.

As we walked past, our stomachs rumbled, reminding us that we had not had breakfast. The warming aroma of crepes being cooked drew us unerringly to its seller.

She was cooking and sliding piping hot crepes onto strofoam plates for customers to take away. There were a couple of people waiting. We ordered one crepe and joined the waiting queue.

When our turn came, she looked at us and pointed to the various ingredients. We settled for some minced meat and vegetables. A few minutes later, breakfast was ready. We paid up and ate while walking to the bus station. The egg batter which made up the crepe base went very well with our veg-minced meat combination. Wish we had bought another one!

The bus was full when we set off from Phonsavan's dusty station. There were only four foreigners. Two Caucasians sat behind us and started eating breakfast. The other passengers also snacked and chatted. It was a cheerful morning. Soon, we rolled onto the undulating highway hugging the mountains.

The locals started puking.

At a particularly bad stretch, the people in front and opposite us looked really sick. Annie and I offered them medicated oil and the locals realised we were foreigners like the two Caucasians. Even the stoic soldier opposite us, who had been clenching his teeth, trying to control his nausea, took the oil. To our surprise, our tiny bottle passed from hand to hand, up and down the bus.

When it came back, I noticed only a slight dip in the contents. The sick but still thoughtful locals had used the oil most sparingly. Our fellow foreigners were very curious about the medicated oil and took a look at our bottle. Unfortunately, the oil only gave the vomitting passengers temporary relief. They got sick again as our bus hit another winding stretch, wheeling up and down the mountain road.

We foreigners seemed to travel better. When the bus boy went around handing out plastic bags (yes, the bus crew was very prepared for this!), he did not even bother to give us the puke bags. He just smiled at us as he gave out lots of these small bags. The rest were tied in bundles along the hand rails for use later.

A most ominous sign.

The locals were very careful even when sick. They vomitted into the bags and took care not to dirty the bus. When someone did not reach for a bag in time, our bus stopped to clean up the mess. Someone even picked up a few leafy branches to cover the offensive spot and deodorise the interior of our bus.

Thankfully, the invigorating mountain breeze was enough to clear the air and those of us not vomitting could enjoy the rugged scenery.

More disturbing was the way the locals disposed of their rubbish. While we bagged ours, they simply threw their plastic bags out of the windows.

When we stopped for lunch, everyone ate again. I was afraid we would have another puking load of passengers once we went on the road. Fortunately for us, we were finally on flat land and so were spared another round of vomitting.

We reached Vang Vieng in the afternoon.

We are now comfortably ensconed in a simple guesthouse, overlooking an old military runway. It is fairly peaceful, away from, yet within walking distance of, the main drag, where most visitors head for food, drink and entertainment. Just the way we like it.

For some reason, I'm reminded of our 'discovery' last evening. Phonsavan is not merely a one-road, dusty, town after all.

Before dinner and on our last night in town, we took another walk. Walking away from the bus station and past Dok Khoung Guesthouse, we left the main road and veered right.

Another world greeted us.

The scenery transformed into rolling hills and picturesque farmland. And the air was definitely fresher! People were harvesting and threshing grain. A boy was walking his cow home.

The sun was setting, its burnished rays gently warming. We stood and watched the activity on the field. The golden land slowly deepened to a rich orange as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. When the colour faded into night, we reluctantly left to return to our world.

Budget (for two in kip)

Room >> K40,000
Breakfast >> K1,000
Tea >> K13,500
Dinner >> K21,000

Next... V V, backpackers' boon

Jars on the Plain >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 33

2006-01-13T11:25:00.000+08:00

Nov 6: Noon, Phonsavan

We slept very badly last night. Our room at the Dok Khoung (DK) was fine, clean and spacious. Unfortunately, we were on the ground floor and the neighbours behind our room were pigs and chicken. That night, the animal farm was particularly lively.

So, this morning, we checked out at the first crack of light and moved to a rather deserted guesthouse down the road. We got a room almost double the size of the one at DK. The place was in need of a good coat of paint and a change of furniture, but it was clean and, mercifully, quiet. The lady proprietor was also nice and reserved, presenting a somewhat less mercenary and sleazy appearance, compared to some of the staff at the more savvy backpacker outfits along the same stretch.

And then, we decided to reward ourselves with a trip to the Plain of Jars. Actually, I had wanted to visit the Jars for a while and since we had finally made it to Laos, I told Annie we simply shouldn't miss this sight.

The way there proved to be rather eventful, an interesting prelude to our destination. We decided to go by jumbo, after several unsuccessful attempts to negotiate a mutually-satisfactory deal with the taxi drivers. But, with a jumbo, we were restricted to only the jars at Site 1, the group nearest to Phonsavan town. That was all right with us as we didn't want to be held ransom by the cabbies. Neither did we want to do a rushed tour of many places in one day, an option the proprietor at DK was very keen to promote.

So, Site 1 it was.

Our driver could not speak English and we spoke no Lao. However, money is a universal language. So, we were able to settle on a fare for the trip.

First, he drove us into the marketplace to a congregation of jumbos. Then, in sign language, he told us we should switch to his friend's bigger jumbo.

Oh dear, that was not part of our initial bargain. We were a little suspicious, but his exhortations sounded most sincere. We switched, he got into the driver's seat and we were on our way again.

Thank goodness for the bigger vehicle. The road was awful, full of potholes. We even splashed across a tiny stream in our bouncing jumbo. I think he took the scenic but bumpy shortcut. After a bracing ride, we arrived spotting windswept hairdos.

As we entered, our driver casually sauntered after us. Once inside, he led the way. Some areas were fenced off. We kept to well-trodden paths. Here and there, we saw small craters, some almost a metre deep, overgrown with grass. Had old ordance blown up in these spots?

The concentration and size of the stone jars are impressive. This part of the countryside is studded with such monuments, whose origins are still debated by academics.

The Plain of Jars is an evocative sight. Like the intriguing puzzles (Stonehench and the Nazcar Lines, for instance) left by other human civilisations, these monolithic containers are another mystery bequeathed by ancestors who walked the land before our time.

Our driver went with us everywhere. He was like a fellow tourist and was very happy to pose for pictures. Many of the jars were broken; others stood like the leaning Tower of Pisa. Several were as tall or taller than a five-foot plus adult. The largest at Site 1 stood at about six tonnes, according the literature we picked up before the trip.

On our way back, we saw a man on clutches minus a leg, another grim reminder that we were in UXO (unexploded ordnance) country. Along the way, warning signs and makeshift wooden fences discouraged the unwary from venturing onto fields which might contained UXO, a deadly present from military aggression.

Budget (for two in kip and USD)

Room >> K50,000
Breakfast >> K16,000
Jumbo & entry to Site 1 >> K50,000
Bus tickets to Vang Vieng >> K110,000
Lunch >> K27,000
Dinner >> K32,000

Next... Puking into Vang Vieng

A town called 'Savan >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 32

2006-01-09T16:50:00.000+08:00

Nov 5: Night, Phonsavan

Cold. Dusty.

Great views of the land from Luang Prabang to Phonsavan, though. The road winded up, down and around mountains. Except for a short section, it was paved.

Along the way, we saw signs of recent landslides. Groups of labourers were clearing broken branches and loose rocks by the road.

For a stretch of the journey, we were thoroughly unentertained by a couple of boorish young Lao men. They took up a lot of space. One took off his shoes and prop his feet on the seat. They ate and littered. After dirtying one seat, they changed to another. The women on board were so much nicer.

Phonsavan is one main-street town. The place has a very cowboy feel, dusty with a fringe of something untamed.

Mechanics in the garage shops lolled by slumbering engines and machine parts in the desultory afternoon.

Rows of motorbikes lined one side of the street. A hulking tattooed man suddenly appeared between the bikes.

Near the roundabout, and outside and opposite the bus shack (I can't call it a station), well-travelled taxis awaited custom.

And within the bus compound, itinerant food sellers peddled steamed buns, sliced fruits and other daily necessities.

We have been travelling for a while now. Been on the road for about six weeks. Without the myriad distractions of the city, Annie and I have easily slipped into an early-to-bed, early-to-rise habit. And we have been enjoying the sweet, crisp air of many an early morning.

Unfortunately, the air in Phonsavan is not so good. But, we have not walked beyond the main street area. Perhaps we shall do so tomorrow. The rest of 'Savan awaits.

Lost in translation: an episode in a Phonsavan diner, in Waiting.

Budget (for two in kip and USD)

Nov 4
Room >> US$25
Boat >> US$5
Pak Ou entry >> K16,000
Lunch >> K5,000
Bus (LP to Phonsavan) >> K164,000
Dinner >> K29,000

Nov 5
Jumbo to LP's Southern Bus Station >> K10,000
Breakfast >> K5,000
Toilet (2x) >> K4,000
Jumbo to guesthouse >> K3,500
Room >> US$6
Oranges >> K1,000
Dinner >> K16,000

Next... On the Plain of Jars

Haven with a bakery >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 31

2006-01-04T17:18:00.000+08:00

Nov 3: Morning, Luang Prabang

Luang Prabang is a very pleasant town. Leafy lanes, interesting architecture, almost tout-free. Definitely stroll-friendly.

Unfortunately, the people in the tourist trade have not been as nice.

So far, Diethlem and another local agency sounded the most helpful. Some of the others we visited to check out transport and perhaps accommodation in Phonsavan just wanted your money.

Lao Aviation was unreliable. No one picked up the office phone. Even the travel agents had difficulty getting flight info because the airline's computer system was offline. It did not help that flight times tended to change.

Last evening, as we headed back from dinner, our peaceful stroll was rudely interrupted by the roar of motorbikes. The noise was a rude aural shock. A group of youths were racing up and down the road, churning up a ruckus. Later, we heard from some locals that this was a habitual nuisance and that many of those racing were rich kids from influential families.

There are snakes lurking in this haven too.

On a sweeter note, the Scandinavian Bakery was great and certainly worth the extra kip we forked out for their confections. Maybe we just miss indulging our sweet tooth!

Nov 3: Night

Earlier, we went to dinner with two Japanese women, Bosa and Siren, who were staying two doors from us. Dinner was a casual affair in one of the Indian restaurants. The ladies were gracious and gregarious. Annie and I enjoyed the easy chit-chat. We even made plans to visit the Pak Ou Caves the next day.

On our way back, close to 11pm, we visited one of the wats (temples). In half light, the place was serene and luminous. In a snug nook, Buddha sat in eternal repose. (I am so glad there was no one racing tonight.)

A cool breeze stirred some wind chimes, showering the air with music. As the cascade of notes tinkled off, we left the compound.

See Some where, some time for our Pak Ou excursion.

Budget (for two in kip and USD)

Nov 1
Room >> US$25 + Breakfast >> K12,000 + Coffee >> K6,000 + Lunch >> K35,000 + Bananas >> K3,000 + Drinks >> K5,500 + Dinner >> K33,000

Nov 2
Room >> US$25 + Breakfast >> K11,000 + Drinks >> K6,000 + Tea >> K9,500 + Breakfast (tomorrow's) >> K12,000 + Oranges (3x) >> K1,000 + Dinner >> K26,000

Nov 3
Room >> US$25 + Lunch >> K19,000 + Bananas >> K3,000 + Tea >> K13,500 + Wat Xieng Thong >> K10,000 + Dinner >> K33,000

Next... Cowboy town

Boating for beginners >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 30

2005-12-31T11:30:00.000+08:00

Oct 31: Night, Luang Prabang

After last night's tasteless noodles served by lethargic staff, we walked to the guesthouse opposite to try their breakfast.

A ragged-looking girl came with two grimy menus. Not very hungry, we ordered a hard-boiled egg with one serving of toast and coffee. The egg was very boiled, the toast very dry and the coffee very thin. The utensils did not appear very clean either. When we paid for our 6,000-kip meal with two 5,000-kip bills, the girl indicated that they had no change.

Since last night, we have been paying tourist prices for lousy food, overpriced room and patchy service. All in all, Pak Beng cannot be recommended. We hope other visitors have a different experience.

We left the village after breakfast, feeling that those in the tourist trade see foreigners as walking dollars in a captive market. A pity, as Pak Beng can be a pleasant overnight stop on a memorable journey down the Mekong.

The Lao people we have meet so far are reserved in the presence of strangers. I think the locals are bemused by the foreign ways of travellers. It must be stressful to have to cope with people who speak, eat, dress and behave so differently. Even those who help with passengers' bags across tricky parts do not give a hand when passengers are struggling up and down planks and slopes.

An hour into our second-day journey, the engine died. Once again, father and son spotted pinched looks. They tried to steer our boat to shore, but the Mekong is no meek mistress. We drifted for half an hour or so, the crew looking very worried as they alternatively anchored and steered to avoid eddies and rocks.

Gazing at the swirling waters, Annie said: "What's to be's to be." Guess we might as well enjoy the scenery while we could! So I took her advice and paid homage to the majesty of the mighty Mekong.

Then, a motorboat passed by. It stopped to help our captain tow the boat to shore.

The next hour was spent on repairs. While waiting for the repairs to be done, we clambered up to the village above the beach. A sandy gully almost a metre deep proved too much for me. After some hesitation (When is the last time I try a long jump?), I barely managed to leap across it on the way up. On the return trip, I ended up in the gully. Someone stretched out a hand and hauled me up.

And the village? No toilet we knew of, only a few dusty bottles of Coke and many a bemused villager looking up from their chores to see a horde descending on their village in search of loo, drink and snack.

We reached Luang Prabang early evening. Again, there was no jetty visible. Our boat parked next to another, away from the shore. Within minutes, the crew had cut the engine, secured the boat and disappeared, leaving the passengers to make it to shore on their own steam.

First, we hopped from our boat to its moored neighbour. Although this boat was the closest to the beach, it was also taller than ours. Looking down from that boat, I saw we were almost two metres above dry land. We had the choice of leaping from the boat to ground or walking down two planks joined end to end. The second plank, the one wedged into the sand, was half the width of the first.

An American middle-aged couple was one of the first off the boat. It was the husband who found the plank route. He reached the ground first and walked off, leaving his wife to follow none too steadily. Both left without looking back. Others had also jumped off from another side.

Gathered around the plank, the rest of us looked at each another. One of the taller girls jumped. I think she was one of several Scandinavian girls. If she had landed wrongly on the uneven ground, she could have sprained her legs or worst.

She was all right.

We passed her the biggest backpacks and then the rest started down the planks, one by one, some teetering more precariously than others. Oooo, not fun if you are afraid of heights, although you would not drown in the shallow waters should you topple off.

All the cabbies and guesthouse touts watched us from the top of the landing while we figured out how to get to dry land. When enough of us made it, they hopped off their perch to tout their business.

The tuk-tuk is called the jumbo here.

As usual, the driver quoted a ludicrous price for a ride less than 1km. We bargained to one-third of the original price, piled in and made our way to check out the first guesthouse we had marked out as a possible place to stay.

After two interesting days, we are in Luang Prabang.

Ancient abode of royalty. Elegant city of culure. Former capital with fabled past. It feels less like stepping into the past, more like the past coming to meet the present.

In a place like Luang Prabang, history feels like now.

Budget (for two in kip and USD)

Room >> US$15
Breakfast >> K6,000
Jumbo (tuk-tuk) >> K5,000
Dinner >> K27,500

Next... R&R

Fracas in Huay Xai >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 29

2005-12-26T12:55:00.000+08:00

Oct 30: Night, Pak Beng

The day started well.

We left Tammila cheerfully, buoyed by the sunny day and the anticipation of visiting another country for the first time. After seeing speedboats thundering past with small groups of helmeted passengers sandwiched within, we decided on the two-day alternative, by slow boat. A speedboat gets you there in six to eight hours - if you do not smash into anything first.

After Thai immigration, we were led to one of those slim longtails. Before we pushed off, the female half of the middle-aged couple manning the boat asked for B20 each for the cross-river trip. I suddenly remembered our guesthouse owner's ealier reminder to tell anyone asking for more money that we had already paid the fare for the entire trip from the Thai side to Luang Prabang in Laos. So I shook my head and said we had paid up, waving our receipt. They smiled, the man stowed our bags and off we went.

No problem at the Lao immigration in Huay Xai. The young officer checked our visas, did the required paperwork, stamped our passports and smiled us off. We were early so we walked around a bit and went to the bank to change some kip, the local currency.

People walked in and out of the bank with wads of cash in roomy plastic bags or large paper envelops. We decided to change only a small amount of money as we had limited storage space. Even for the little we changed, we left with a small stack of Lao notes!

Just above the pier was the police post. Some passengers were already waiting there so we joined them. After a short wait, our passports were collected for the police to check. Another short wait and we were told to go downhill to board our boat.

Trouble began with boarding.

First, we had to clamber up and down the slightly muddy slope just to reach our boat. Then, to get into our boat, everyone had to carry their bags across a 20-cm wide wooden plank, one end attached to the small entrance of the boat while the other end was wedged into the sludgy shore to keep it from floating away. There was no jetty although there were several other boats parked next to ours.

Except for one or two reaching out to steady the more tentative passengers, the rest of those working at the boats and the pier simply hung around to gawk.

Seats in our boat came in the form of a long bench hugging each side. It would have been comfortable enough for 30 perhaps, but packing over 60 people with backpacks into this long, slim contraption was asking for a disaster to happen.

We saw boats returning from Luang Prabang with 10 to 20 passengers and did not realise they intended to overload our vessel until everyone was wedged in, still waiting for the police post uphill to return our passports.

More trouble came a-calling, in the form of a young chap waving a few leaves of paper. "Compulsory" insurance at 30 baht each, he said. Each of us got a piece of photocopied A4 paper claiming to be a notice from the government.

An excerpt (spelling, punctuation and grammar as appeared):
The assurance Law 29.10.1990
The decree of mistry of finance No 259MF dated 13/4/1994
... Every body will must have covering from Lao inssurance before will you trip and travel different place ...

It was signed and chopped, purportedly by the "MANAGER TRANSPORT STATION", "BOKEO, Dated 25.5.01".

The guy also passed around a brochure advertising travel insurance from the Allianz Group. It was the kind of information pamphlet you could easily pick up from the insurance office or an agent. There was nothing "government" about this slightly grubby brochure. The rates, advertised in US$ and kip for travel within the country and overseas, also did not tally with the 30 baht demanded.

Being the last few to totter onboard, Annie and I ended up at the end furthest from the entrance of the boat. By the time Insurance Man came to us, our boat was packed to the gills and the guy had to remain at the entrance, limiting his effectiveness to dragoon the entire boatload into coughing up the dough. Unsurprisingly, those who sat nearest to him came under the most pressure to shell out that 30 baht. The rest of us, snug against a huge cylinder of flammable fluid, decided we might as well save that 30-baht insurance.

When we demanded for our passports, Insurance Man insisted we pay up first. He managed to 'persuade' a few of those seating next to him to pay up. The rest of us declared we could spare the day waiting. Of course, the loudest nays came from those of us sitting far, far away from Insurance Man!

But, I did not think he heard us.

By now, the father-and-son boat crew had disappeared and Insurance Man was looking increasingly pinched the longer we held out. Despite an hour of such shenanigans, the majority of our boatload remained recalcitrant, refusing to yield even a baht to Insurance Man. Finally, someone handed over several stacks of passports. Insurance Man slunk off in ignoble defeat.

The supposedly nefarious scheme had turned into a Mr Bean-like sort of farce. The scamming locals seemed rather inept as villains. Perhaps we got them on an off day?

"Singapore! Singapore!"

A blond guy with sun-sea-sand complexion waved our red passports energetically. Besides a couple from Africa (I think), we seemed to be the only non-white on board, our shoulder bags dwarfed by hulking backpacks. I grinned and collected our passports more sedately. The atmosphere in the boat was less tense now that we had our passports back.

Our boat captain appeared with his family - wife, mother, teenage son and a younger boy or girl. The family packed into our end, after the flammable fluid, and closed off that section.

We did not know at the time, but they had taken away our only toilet on board.

The captain moved to the other end while his teenage son ran along the edge of the boat, releasing the tethers. A couple more passengers joined the captain at the front. The engine rumbled; Ban Huay Xai receded into the distance.

Then, we heard angry shouts.

Since it was very cramped inside, some passengers moved on to the roof. When any of the women tried this, either the captain or his son got very excited. One would physically blocked the way up, gestured firmly and insisted that the women return to their bench. Must be the age-old belief that it is bad luck to allow a woman on top of the boat (and men?).

The boat crew certainly needed any luck bestowed on our dangerously overloaded vessel.

The waters were treacherous, with seemingly calm stretches suddenly morphing into swirling eddies. It was not comforting to see the crew turning pale on occasions or to witness that pinched look on the son's face as he hurried by.

To our relief, the crew was skilled and experienced, as the captain navigated the packed boat safely past numerous eddies and rocks whose tips were barely visible on the surface of the water. I am sure we would sink into deep trouble in lesser hands.

During the day, we stopped at a few villages to drop a couple of people off and to pick up or deliver sacks of goods. Since the boat's only toilet had been declared off limits by the captain and his family in residence, those who wanted to answer nature's call simply find a discreet spot on land during one of our pit stops. Some of the guys got on to the roof and emptied into the river.

Actually, it is cleaner to do your business outdoors than to pay for the use of a filthy loo in someone's backyard. So we find out later in our Laos journey. But, wisdom comes from experience. At this stage, we are still disconcerted by the alternatives offered to our idea of a toilet.

So I was glad when we reached Pak Beng at six in the evening. It was getting dark. We forked out for an overpriced room so I could clean up with hot water. I am feeling particularly yukky because I am having my period. Annie, in the meantime, sorely needed somewhere softer to rest her back. She was beginning to spot a couple of blue-black patches on the area along her spine, from leaning her 'fat-free' back against the wooden support of the boat all day.

The electricity in our hotel is erratic.

The lights in our room flickered out briefly. I took a shower with my torch within grabbing distance. When we left our room at 7pm, the place was completely dark.

People were eating dinner in candle light.

Out came our torches as we explored Pak Beng's one main street in search of dinner. In the end, we headed back to our hotel's dimly lit cafe for an indifferent meal of soup noodles. In the middle of our meal, we heard several cracks. The waiter, passing by with a bowl of soup, had stepped on a beetle the size of a ping-pong ball. He continued, crunching across the hapless insect, oblivious to the destruction he had wreaked and left behind on the floor.

Today has been interesting. I have been taken out of my comfort zone. So has Annie, I am sure. But, it is not everyday that we are treated to the might and beauty of the Mekong.

I look forward to another day on the Mekong. And the rest of our Laos sojourn. I think Laos has much to lavish on us.

Budget (for two in baht or kip as indicated)

Breakfast >> B95 + Boat to Luang Prabang >> B1,100 + Lunch (packed) >> B60 + Room B>> 400 + Dinner >> K14,000

Next... Two metres above Luang Prabang

A lazy afternoon >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 28

2005-12-23T16:26:00.000+08:00

Oct 29: Afternoon, Chiang Khong

We are nestled in Tammila's riverside cafe, drinking ginger tea. Every sip is comfortably warming as we enjoy the gentle breezes brushing the open-air cafe. I am reading Lonely Planet about our next destination, Laos.

When inspired, I drop my guide book to scribble a line or two in this journal. Annie is reading a novel, probably fantasy or romance, her two favourite genres. Two tables away, another occupant, a young Caucasian woman with long, blond hair, is also reading, writing and gazing the day away.

Periodically, the roar of flashy speedboats pierces the silence and we become distracted enough to pause for a drink while watching the commotion on the river. At other times, more placid slow boats and a barge or two ferrying goods and trucks drift past.

During a lull from boat-watching and journal scribbling, I look up to see two pairs of feline eyes lazily wondering over the cafe's occupants. Ah, must be the household cats. They look so settled, perched on top of one of those waist-high cabinets a few tables across where we are lounging.

All this lazing around is very nice, but we should gear up for Laos tomorrow. I think I will suggest a walk by the river this evening, before dinner. We may even bump into our landlady walking her dog, not to mention numerous cyclists and fellow strollers.

Last evening, we were extremely sedentary, choosing to enjoy the panoramic view of Laos across the river from our balcony, instead of joining the stream of walkers and bikers on the pavement below.

Today, the Mekong at sunrise has been equally mesmerising. As the sun inches higher, the morning mist unveils Laos in ever sharper relief, reminding us that our stay in Thailand is almost over.

Across the river, Laos awaits.

Budget (for two in baht)

Room >> B300
Breakfast >> B85
Groceries + Drinks >> B50
Lunch >> B95
Dinner >> B140

Next... Scammed in a sardine can

Border town >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 27

2005-12-15T21:10:00.000+08:00

Oct 28: Night, Chiang Khong

Our day did not start well at all. We were unable to buy tickets to Chiang Khong the night before. People at the Chiang Rai bus station's ticketing office were unhelpful. They could not even tell us when we should come back tomorrow.

It was drizzling when we left our guesthouse this morning. Our lady proprietor was driving out and she gave us a lift to the bus station. When we got there, it was still not possible to buy tickets. Perhaps there was no bus today? We could not tell because everyone just shook their heads. Giving up on the ticketing office, we asked other passengers.

In the end, we found a small bus leaving for Chiang Khong near a quieter side of the station. The vehicle was old but clean. There was no space to leave our bags where we sat, so we stowed them in the empty space before the last row of seats, across the open exit of the bus.

But, we did not have to worry about our bags. The conductor was very nice. When it rained, he made sure our bags stay dry.

The ride was scenic. From city to suburbs to farms to green gorges, the roads got narrower and less paved as the outdoors became more rural.

Chiang Khong is a one main-road town, compact and very managable on foot. The road is well used. Dust flies whenever a trading truck thunders past, a regular occurrence during the day. But, just metres beyond that main road, the noise recedes.

Behind the foliage, another Chiang Khong exists.

Chickens peck the ground diligently. Wooden fence pairs with waist-high hedges of bougainvillea and other flora. People stroll around in shirt and sarong. The muted rumble of a motorbike wafts by occasionally from smaller roads leading into the interior.

Tammila, our guesthouse, is leafy, rich with the smell of earth. Steps leading down to the guesthouse also take us closer to the river, away from the industry of the main road.

We are staying in a bungalow of wood and bamboo. Our 'ensuite' toilet is outside, a concrete afterthought. Fronting our room and loo is our balcony. The view is splendid and the peace, priceless. No cars, no TVs, no cell phones. Just night sounds from active nocturnal denizens, a world (or two) away from our home in Singapore.

Also see Huts & houses.

Budget (for two in baht)

Bus to Chiang Khong >> B84
Breakfast >> B60
Room >> B300
Tuk-tuk >> B20
Lunch + drinks >> B110
Tea + Muffins >> B40
Dinner >> B125
Drinks >> B30

Next...
Laos from the balcony

Bussing to Chiang Saen >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 26

2005-12-09T16:02:00.000+08:00

Oct 26: Evening, Chiang Rai

We made a short trip out of sleepy Chiang Rai today. We took the bus to Chiang Saen, on the fringe of the Golden Triangle. Laos, Myanmar and Thailand share the Mekong at this juncture.

The space between our bus seats was very small. I, a five-footer, had no problem. But, Annie, who hit five feet six, had to place her legs diagonally across the cramped space. I could see her legs spilling onto the aisle.

That is what I admire about the people in this region. So many of the Thai, Lao and Myanmar people are agile and elegant. Climbing steep and narrow steps to a temple or archaeological ruins; manoeuvring to drop into a longtail undulating on the water; making space to accommodate yet another passenger in a vehicle seemingly bursting at its seams; all done with minimal fuss and so gracefully.

Despite the cramp, we had a pleasant trip to Chiang Saen. Nice breeze, gentle scenery. Very relaxing because the bus was not crowded.

At Wat Chedi Luang, we sat on the matted floor and enjoyed the serenity of the sanctuary. A guide came with two visitors.

After a while, the guide came over. He told us his visitors were from Perth. When we told him we came by bus, all three looked at us.

"By public bus?" The guide repeated.

They looked surprised. We did not know why. We were 'guideless' and obviously on our own. Had we missed something here?

The trip back was equally pleasant and after a short rest, we are now dressing up to go to the Chiang Rai night bazaar for a bite of dinner.

Oct 26: Night

The night bazaar sells loads of food, especially deep-fried stuff. Huge platters of meat and seafood balls, spring rolls, innards and insects, all prominently displayed to tempt the tastebuds. Pick what you want and the hawker serves it on a plate or pack it for you to take away. From 10 baht onwards, you can order a generous plate of grub to go with your beer under the balmy night sky.

We walked and gawked at the array of fried insects. The crickets looked particularly ghastly, like roaches! The worms looked just that tad more appetising. Getting a plate of worms was simply too overwhelming before dinner (or after), so we strolled on to more pedestrian fare.

Compared to the night before, tonight, a Saturday, was more crowded. More stalls were opened too. Diners ate al fresco and in relative darkness, eyes glued to the performers on the large stage in front. When we were there, a lone guy was on stage singing and playing the guitar. This was followed by three dancers putting on a very tacky routine.

Back in our room, I decided to watch the Pool versus Spurs match on ESPN. This is killing two birds with one stone because I get to enjoy a bout of armchair sports while getting out of Annie's hair for an hour or two.

When on the road for a while, we find it worthwhile to set aside an hour or so each night for reading, writing or folding clothes. These pockets of time to ourselves make for a more harmonious relationship on the road.

Budget (for two in baht)

Oct 26
Room >> B350
Breakfast >> B40
Bus to Chiang Saen >> B50
H2O + donation + museum >> B90
Lunch >> B40
Bus to Chiangrai >> B50
Internet >> B26
Tea >> B61
Dinner + spring rolls >> B250

Oct 27
Room >> B350
Breakfast + Curry puffs >> B30
Donation + Groceries >> B59
Lunch + Kueh (local cakes) >> B60
Internet >> B47
Tea >> B50
Dinner >> B190
Ice-cream >> B64

Next...
River lives

Ye olde lech >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 25

2005-12-05T17:11:00.000+08:00

Oct 25: Night, Chiang Rai

We have just changed our room because the aircon in the old one was dripping water, industrial-size plops marring the pristine terracotta floor. The lady proprietor was most dismayed because her guesthouse was only three months old. Hers was no doubt the messier problem; we simply moved into a new room.

Baan Worabodee is a charming, lovely place - warm wood, white walls and potted greenery in strategic spots, surrounded by a neat little garden, where you can have breakfast or drinks.

We found our guesthouse by accident. Exiting the bus station, we walked down the main street. A short distance later, we saw a cloth banner advertising Baan Worabodee and recalled the tiny picture we saw in a tourist info magazine advertising this guesthouse. We decided to give this one a try and headed into a side street. There, we found Baan Worabodee, tucked in a quiet neighbourhood.

In contrast, our bus ride from Chiang Mai to Chiang Rai was anything but tranquil. Our bus was packed. An hour before Chiang Rai, we stopped to pick up stranded passengers from an earlier bus, leaving the expired vehicle and its forlorn driver to wait for mechanical aid by the side of the road. Further down the road, our driver stopped for more passengers. Feet filled the narrow aisle.

Then, trouble started. A man with wispy white beard was among the last load of passengers to board the bus. He stowed his banjo on the luggage rack above the passenger seats. When the bus moved, his musical instrument fell on the stunned passengers, a woman with a boy, seating beneath the rack. He seemed to find that funny although no one else was laughing with him. Except for the outraged woman, everyone simply looked away.

Chuckling, he removed the banjo from their laps and wedged it more firmly against other bags on the rack. The woman stared at him and he shuffled across the crowded aisle to stand slightly behind my seat. Unless I turned my head, I could only see him from the corner of my eye.

First, he leaned against the back of my seat. Then, he began to use me as his personal padded seat, rubbing and resting his ample bum on my shoulder. When I pushed him off, he sidled away. But, scant seconds later, he was back, resting even more of his body on me.

A silent battle ensured. I pushed him away and inched closer to Annie, who sat next to me. He withdrew but was back again. The more I moved away from him, the further he slided forward. Any further and he might as well sit on my shoulder or slide into my lap!

By the third skirmish, Annie realised what was happening. "What's wrong?"

While I was still wondering if I should escalate this struggle and make some verbal protest, my friend turned and looked up at the old man.

"Don't touch her! We don't like to be touched!"

Our reading material said that it was impolite to raise your voice in anger. But, we also knew that men should not touch women, especially those they did not know, in public. Well, I had tried to get rid of my problem quietly. We were not willing to suffer in silence for the next hour.

Annie's firm words ricocheted off the shocked faces of nearby passengers. They stared, but her warning worked. When some passengers alighted, the old man moved off, muttering, far away from us, to the rear of the bus.

Meanwhile, the equally careless young man beside the old man, who had been knocking my knees and bumping into other standing female passengers even when the bus was moving sedately and fairly smoothly, suddenly decided it would be more prudent not to be so cavalier about touching the opposite sex. And the rest of the men were were also very careful about bumping into me as they moved along the aisle.

One even apologised when he had to step into the tiny space between me and the front seat to let passengers who were leaving walked through the aisle. He was so careful that he managed the feat without touching my knees.

I notice it is usually the guys who choose to impose on the women. We have not seen a female taking the same sort of liberties. Fortunately, for every obnoxious man, there is another who still practices decorum in public and we have happily benefitted from such gallantry.

The Chinese have a saying: When at home, you rely on family; when away, you rely on friends. Without the kindness of strangers, our travel would have been less.

Made in China in Greece

Travelling from a tiny city-state like Singapore to almost anywhere else always gives me the sense that the world is a big, big, place. Sometimes, though, it is as if we are travelling around a global village: Made-in-China souvenirs in shops at Athens' Plaka; Thai-made clothes in Johor Baru's shopping centres; Malaysian produce and pastries in neighbourhood shops in the heart of Singapore's public housing estates.

Today, we met some guys who had shared a taxi with us in Bagan. And we have been bumping into other travellers we have met earlier these past weeks. Perhaps it is not so much that the world seems smaller, but that our traveller circuit remains small.

You never know when you might run into another familiar face. That is fun. There is something quite carefree about meeting new friends for a few hours to chat over drinks or a meal in a foreign country, knowing we are all simply passing through and that we may or may not meet again.

Budget (for two in baht)

Oct 24
Room >> B550 + Songthaew to Wieng Kum Kam >> B40 + Donation >> B20 + Songthaew to Chiang Mai >> B20 + Lunch >> B50 + Tea >> B35 + Dinner >> B130 + Coffee & dessert >> B77

Oct 25
Songthaew to Chiang Mai bus station >> B40 + Bus to Chiang Rai >> B154 + Toilet >> B6 + Pau (2 steamed buns) >> B12 + Room >> B350 + Lunch >> B70 + Ice-cream (Swensen's) >> B78 + Dinner >> B30 + Cake >> B20

Next... To Chiang Saen we go

Noodling and goggling >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 24

2005-11-30T12:45:00.000+08:00

Oct 22: Night, Chiangmai

Okay. So.

Not every restaurant serves value-for-money or tasty food.

We just had Thai food for dinner. What we had in Bangkok's Krua Nopparat was better. As we were walking back, we saw a street vendor selling soups and small dishes with rice. They looked sensational!

Wish we had that instead.

There are many noodles stalls, scattered all over Chiang Mai town. Few stalls taste alike, even if they are all selling the usual array of fried and soup dishes. Even phad tai, the ubiquitous Thai fried noodles, tastes different at different stalls. I guess every cook has his or her own secret recipe. A culinary adventure!

Most of the street stalls seem clean enough. Last night, we ate kuay teow soup from one stall, which had set up several tables on the pavement by a carpark. A simple and enjoyable meal, with nary a squeak in protest from our tummies after that. We avoided the ice water and raw vegetables, two items usually provided free at noodles eateries, though.

At these casual eating places, we often have only a vague idea of what we have ordered because communication is limited to sign language. We point to items we can identify or to other people's orders and then hope the stall owner gets ours right!

So far, that has gotten us delicious food, cheerful grins or grunts and bills a portion of what we would have to pay if we stick to hotel restaurants and more formal seat-down eateries.

Oct 23: Night, Chiangmai

I am watching Ally McBeal and writing this. I think Ally is on her second last season. Am so not into the show now. I have stopped watching the series when it is on in Singapore.

On previous trips, however, I have discovered some gems from cable TV in some of the hotels and guesthouses we have stayed in. I remember catching X-Files in India in the 1990s. I got hooked after that and started to follow the series when I returned to Singapore.

Annie says I turn into a TV-freak when we travel. I judiciously abstain from comment.

My friend is now in the bathroom trying out the clothes we bought earlier. Ah! Here she is. Looks good on her. These clothes are to supplement our thoroughly meagre wardrobe, which is getting thinner with every vigorous wash by our hands or by the local laundry.

Although we are of different build, we can still share certain tops. This gives us more choices when we mix and match our clothes, spicing up the monotony of wearing the same few pieces every day.

Just now, however, the thrill of new clothes takes a back seat to the goggle box. I cannot be bothered to try the colourful bargains strewn all over our beds.

From the corner of my left eye, I note Annie's exasperated amusement at my imitation of a couch potato. Yes, there is no prying me away from the set. Clothes, they can wait. I will even stop pecking at my journal after this sentence.

Right now, I prefer the antics of Ally, Fish, et al.

Budget (for two in baht)

Oct 22
Room >> B550
Breakfast (in addition to hotel's) >> B40
Coffee >> B55
Laundry >> B85
Lunch >> B40
Internet >> B27
Snacks >> B10
Drinks >> B30
Dinner >> B172

Oct 23
Room >> B550
Lunch >> B60
Laundry >> B30
Groceries >> B249
Clothes >> B799
Drinks >> B26
Dinner B130

Next... Threshold of the Golden Triangle

Bed hopping >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 23

2005-11-22T12:45:00.000+08:00

Oct 21: Afternoon, Chiang Mai

We have found another way to get to Luang Prabang. So, no need to spend more money flying there. Instead, we now plan to head north to Chiang Khong via Chiang Rai. I am already anticipating the coming road trip.

In the meantime, we are having great fun just eating and checking out all sorts of accommodation. Earlier today, we moved into Montri Hotel, opposite Tha Phae Gate.

Tomorrow, we will move again, to our third place in three days. Tapae Place Hotel is a bit cheaper than the Montri, yet offers a comfort of similar standard. In addition, breakfast is included.

Chiang Mai is so chockful of budget and not-so-budget accommodation that moving may simply mean packing your bags and carrying them two streets down. Like what we have been doing!

All this energy must be from the gut-bursting meals we have been enjoying. I am still full from lunch. Food is plentiful and prices are reasonable for the generous portions (at least, at the places we have eaten so far).

As for sightseeing, we found much to absorb our attention while walking Chiang Mai's streets in search of another B&B. Busy markets, tranquil temples, smart shops and funky coffeehouses co-exist in a blend of old, new and something in between.

Budget (for two in baht)
Room >> B575
Breakfast >> B178
Tuk-tuk >> B20
Lunch >> B139
Ice-cream >> B20
Postcards >> B52
Drinks >> B26
Dinner >> B40
Drinks >> B85

Next...
Ally on telly

Road block >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 22

2005-11-18T13:16:00.000+08:00

Oct 20: Night, Chiang Mai

After the rainy weather in Bagan, Chiang Mai is hot!

Air Mandalay is fine. We got a piping hot meal and coffee during the flight. The interior of our plane was so clean, it was gleaming. Most enjoyable flight.

We took a taxi from Chiang Mai Airport to town. The taciturn driver barely acknowledged us before pulling out of the airport. Along the way, he asked for our destination. There was a short silence after we told him to drop us at Roong Ruang Hotel. Then, the man said, "Roong Ruang old."

We kept quiet, wondering if he was thrashing our choice so he could bring us to one of those hotels and guesthouses that paid him commission. After all, some guide books had recommended the place.

At Tha Phae Gate, the driver suddenly stopped his taxi by the roadside and gruffly told us we had to alight. When we told him our guesthouse was on the other side of the Gate, two roads across, he still would not budge another inch.

"Road's closed today," was all he offered in explanation. Then, without another word, he took our bags and left them on the pavement. Clearly, he was determined to get rid of us! But, what is the point of taking a taxi if it is not going to bring us to the doorstep of our destination?

A little disgruntled, we hefted our bags and crossed to Tha Phae Gate. Immediately, we caught the festive air. Scores of people milled around and many of them seemed to be setting up stalls for some kind of fair at the open space by the Gate. Now that we were on this side of the Gate, we saw that our grouchy taxi driver was telling the truth about the road closure.

When we reached Roong Ruang, the gregarious owner (a bit pushy about tours) confirmed that Tha Phae Road was closed to traffic on Sunday for pedestrians, stalls and buskers. Indeed, many were out in force with their violins, traditional instruments and electric guitars along the road outside our guesthouse. It also turned out that our driver was more accurate in his assessment of our accommodation choice than the guide books. The quality of our room did not live up to the expectation heightened by the attractive courtyard. Instead, our room was rather cramped and stuffy despite the fan.

We decided to pamper ourselves at dinner. Strolling, we saw a steakhouse and dropped in. Once our food arrived, we inhaled the generous portions of tasty potato, other vegetables and meat. This indulgence brought to mind how much less food there appeared to be available to the general populance in Myanmar.

In local restaurants, when we ordered fish, it came as half a fish (head or tail portion). On another occasion, we had three sardines (about six to seven inches long) swimming in a voluminous plate. Even the three-star hotel we stayed in on our last day in Yangon could only put out a sparse breakfast spread. The looks of foreign tourists when they appeared for breakfast that morning could best be described as disappointed.

On the other hand, it also cast an unflattering light on the gorging and binging in our affluent societies. We eat and waste too much. And we grow fat and sickly. Annie and I admire the willowy and well-toned physique of many a Myanmarese man and woman. But, what story can each body tell us? How, then, can we find a balance between starvation and surfeit?

Before we got overly morose about the health of our world, Annie and I stopped talking and concentrated on appreciating (and not wasting) our food. Soon, pleasantly stuffed, we left the steakhouse and wandered the streets for a bit, before heading back to our guesthouse near Tha Phae Gate.

Budget (for two in kyat, US$ or baht as indicated)

Stamps >> K100
Taxi to Yangon airport >> K2,000
Yangon airport tax >> US$20
Taxi (CM airport to guesthouse) >> B100
Room >> B350
Drink >> B24
Dinner >> B259
Internet >> B20

Next...
Moving

Yangon turf and surf >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 21

2005-11-15T12:48:00.000+08:00

Oct 19: Night, Yangon

It was a dark, stormy night.

Oh yes, another. Just like the wet evening that greeted our arrival not too long ago. What is with Yangon and storms?

I am now writing by torchlight. Another power failure. I guess modern tourist-class hotels are as vulnerable as small guesthouses.

After a long and grimy ride (16.5 hours), we checked our stash of FECs and realised we still had a fair bit to contribute to the national economy. Hence, our splurge in this hotel - aircon, ensuite with bathtub and marble vanity, king-size beds, cable-TV and a panaromic view of downtown Yangon. From our window, the rows and rows of train carriages at the railway station looked like Lego blocks.

The trip from Bagan to Yangon was as lengthy as our previous bus ride from Yangon to Mandalay. I could never sleep well on overnight bus trips, but there was plenty outside my window to occupy my interest.

I think we crossed at least one dried river. That part of the terrain was very sandy and, in the dark, the lighter-colour sand reflected what light there was to form an errie, faintly glowing stream, disappearing into the distance on either side of the bus as the vehicle rolled by, bumping a little on the tiny granules. When we reached the end of the sandy passage, I looked up and saw houses perched above us. I guess if the river was flowing, the land we had been travelling on would be underwater.

Then, there were the bridges we crossed. They did not feel very firm. If there was another vehicle, our driver always waited for the other party to get to the other side before he moved us across, gingerly.

Our bus was packed. There were people sitting on the aisle. These people sat on small, squarish chairs, contraptions attached to the normal bus seats. When needed, the user simply pulled one out and unfolded it. The driver turned off the aircon after our 2.30am pit stop. For the rest of the journey, we sat with open windows, enjoying the night breeze.

At the Yangon bus station we arrived in, we encountered another racket. We were looking for a taxi and this guy told us he had one. From the way he spoke, we thought he was the driver. Turned out he was the racketeer. Once he brought us to the taxi, he collected 20% of the fare he had negotiated with us from the driver, whose vehicle was parked in the direction we had been walking towards before the racketeer waylaid us.

Why should we pay such exorbitant rates, or anything at all, to someone who had not rendered an iota of useful service? The driver shook his head, said that was how it worked here. My guess is, even if we took his cab at our own initiative, he would still have to cough up that fee.

Budget (for two in US$ or kyat as indicated)

Oct 18
Lunch >> K1,900
Sandwiches >> K1,050

Oct 19
Taxi to hotel >> K2,500
Room >> US$30
Tip >> K200
Lunch >> K1,320
Magazines >> K550
Dinner >> K1,140
Coffee & doughnuts >> K765

Next... Road block on Sunday

Murphy pays a visit >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 20

2005-11-11T00:25:00.000+08:00

Oct 17: Night, Bagan

After a week 'vegeing' in Bagan, we are looking forward to be on the move again. Bagan is a great place to relax.

Making arrangements to fly from Mandalay to Chiang Mai, however, is anything but relaxing. Our Mandalay to Chiang Mai plan has been torpedoed by a series of unfortunate events. We now have to go back to Yangon instead.

While in Mandalay a week earlier, we dropped by a travel agent's office and asked about flights to Chiang Mai. When the nice lady behind the desk found out that we would be staying in Bagan for several days, she assured us that we could easily book our flights there.

We should not have taken her friendly advice. Ah, hindsight...

On our second day in Bagan, we checked with the ticketing office in New Bagan and was told they could not accept any booking because the computer system was down.

We gave up and went back to our hotel in Old Bagan.

Our hotel manager said he would try to buy the tics for us. The next three to four days went by, but he could not confirm our flight. Finally, two days before our planned departure, he told us apologetically that there were no more seats for the Mandalay-Chiang Mai flight we wanted, but he could secure seats on the next flight a few days from now if we also flew from Bagan to Mandalay.

We were not planning to waste our US$-FECs on a flight when we could spend our money on a local bus ride from Bagan to Mandalay. Anyway, up to that point, no one ever mentioned the two flights in the same sentence!

Needless to say, we were somewhat put out by this chain of events. The manager then told us that there were flights from Yangon to Chiang Mai, but, of course, that would entail an even longer trip back to the capital first. The good news was, he could book our Yangon-Chiang Mai flight; no need to fly from Bagan to Yangon first!

So, in the end, we regretfully told the manager that we would not be able to enjoy his hospitality much longer as we would now have to take a much longer bus ride to Yangon. He, ever smiley, booked our Yangon-Chiang Mai tickets and even got one of his staff to run down to the village square to buy our bus tickets.

Budget (for two in US$ or kyat as indicated)

Room >> US$8
Flight (Yangon to Chiang Mai) >> US$178
Bus to Yangon >> K8,000
Lunch >> K1,150
Tea >> K1,000
Biscuits & nuts >> K400
Dinner K2,000

Next...
A ride in the dark

A slice of village life >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 19

2005-11-08T11:57:00.000+08:00

Oct 16: Night, Bagan

The sun came out of hiding in the afternoon. After an early morning drizzle, the light sunshine was perfect weather for us to continue our ruins ramble.

Today, Mr Khin Zaw could not drive us, so we got his friend instead. Earlier, this horse cart driver with an entrepreneurial bend told us that he had invested money made from his driving in another horse cart, which he now rented to his friend or cousin. This way, he was earning another steady income while giving work to another, who could not afford a cart of his own.

Mr Khin Zaw's replacement spoke little English, but he was gentle and earnest. We spent several idyllic hours riding and walking among the ruins.

I think we have enjoyed the best of both worlds in our two chauffeurs. The more energetic and gregarious Khin Zaw was affable company and a fount of local knowledge, accepting our sweets and snacks happily. He provided a very positive counterfoil to the relentless presence of intrusive touts at major attractions.

His friend was far more reserved, perhaps because he could not speak much English. However, on the day we valued our peace after days dodging hawkers and touts, his silent presence among the more tranquil ruins was very appreciated.

Away from the ruins, and because of the intermitten rain, we ended up spending a fair bit of time strolling around the village near our hotel. Tonight, our restaurant had a power failure. So we ate in cosy candle light. After dinner, we strolled some more.

Up the street on our way back to our hotel, someone had set up a TV. Aside from the TV's glow, there was little light. That did not deter the crowd that had gathered to watch the soap opera. Some simply squatted while others sat on low stools.

There were numerous bikes nearby. Many in the audience must have cycled here to watch TV. It was like watching a movie in our cinema. The chief difference was that, instead of a concrete roof with appropriate acoustics, this group enjoyed their movie under a canopy of the night sky. And instead of a hi-tech wide screen, they got their dose of pop culture from a small, black box with its inquisitive antenna pointed towards the heavens.

But, their enjoyment, judging from the absorbed attention all round, was no less. And across the street, a group huddled around a fire, enjoying dinner by moon light.

Budget (for two in US$ or kyat as indicated)

Room >> US$8
Horse cart (full-day) >> K3,000
Postcards & donation >> K760
Lunch >> K1,500
Dinner >> K2,000

Next...
Murphy pays a visit

Brown Bagan >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 18

2005-11-03T15:50:00.000+08:00

Oct 15: Night, Bagan

More rain. It finally stopped drizzling at about 1pm. A few hours later, a small shower returned, then became heavier.

It is still drizzling.

Our horse cart driver had become rather desperate because we did not want to visit the ruins in the rain. We told him early each morning so we would not deprive him of other custom, but I guess business was bad because more people kept indoor when it was wet and muddy outside.

Time passes slowly here. Just the way we like it, as long as we get to return to a faster pace of life later on.

But, I wonder what sort of impression we have created for the locals. After all, we are paying in US$ for a room everyday and we have spent two days sitting around, drinking tea and coffee, snacking and reading!

The local people must find us very different from them, even though we are all Asian. And after observing only these visible aspects of our behaviour and that of other foreign visitors, it is not surprising if the locals come to the conclusion that all tourists are rich.

On the chow front, the Myanmarese will do better if they serve different types of food. Many of the restaurants and eateries, where tourists congregate, list almost identical dishes on their menus. Very monotonous, though some outlets have better cooks than others.

Budget (for two in US$ or kyat as indicated)

Room >> US$8
Lunch >> K1,000
Dinner >> K1,775

Next...
A slice of village life

Rain, rain, go away >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 17

2005-11-01T14:23:00.000+08:00

Oct 14: Night, Bagan

We could not visit any ruins today because the rain turned firm earth into brown sludge. The ground around the ruins was too muddy to walk around barefoot. For our untried, unschooled feet, that is. Besides, we were rather worried about earth-borne parasites. The locals appeared much less concerned about the fate of their feet.

At 8.30am, in steady drizzle, our horse cart driver promptly appeared outside our hotel. We quickly made our way to where Mr Khin Zaw had parked. Man, horse and cart were dripping in the rain. He appeared resigned and a little dismayed that we wanted to postpone the day's ramble. Since we agreed to pay him for each trip completed, he was eager to try the next day. We told him we would go if the weather was good, but we know he would appear promptly again the next morning.

I do not know about Annie, but I am glad for this respite. We are still aching from our trudge back from New Bagan two days ago and our ruins ramble yesterday. This just shows how little exercise our legs get back home!

But, the sore muscles were a tiny price for the smorgasbord of sensory delights offered by Bagan. Certainly, the most atmospheric ruins are the less visited ones. No one to pester us to buy another postcard, change money or give a candy, a haven for us and a chance to contemplate the past in peace.

Back in our room, we were shocked when we switched on the TV and saw scenes of the devastation left by the Bali bombers. It was so surreal watching images of death and destruction on screen in our quiet, aircon room, thousands of miles away, in another tourist village seeped in centuries of war and peace.

Budget (for two in US$ or kyat as indicated)

Room >> US$8
Lunch >> K1,200
Dinner >> K1,650

Next...
Bagan in brown (sludge)

Pumping by climbing >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 16

2005-10-27T17:58:00.000+08:00

Oct 13: Night, Bagan

Those who are looking to add a new dimension to their fitness routine should try rambling amongst the ruins. When you reach your destination, set your heart racing by hiking up those steep and narrow stairs on the sides and interior of the temples. Bring a torch because certain parts are quite dark.

After one particularly challenging stretch, my muscles were clenched and quivering. But, we often found our reward at the end of all that huffing and puffing. In this case, a wonderful vista of Bagan greeted us from the open terrace. A fine view, indeed, and the more Annie and I walked and climbed, the fitter we would become at the end of our stay. Another fine bounty!

Bagan is very spread out. Many of the ruins are too far to walk to. Those who bike should hire one to give them added mobility. Otherwise, bargain hard with your favourite horse cart driver, a rather time-consuming activity as we found out.

Once we got our horse cart, I discovered that clambering up and down the vehicle was a mini-exercise in itself for a five-footer. The front seat next to the driver was especially high. But, once we got used to this mode of travelling, we grew comfortable on the padded seats and even enjoyed the rolling gait of the cart as the horse 'clip-clop' along.

Our driver was Mr Khin Zaw, a 26-year-old enterprising and gregarious chap. He also proved to be fairly knowledgeable about the major sights. He kept up a chatty yet relevant commentary along the way and never hurried us at each stop. When we could, we left our cart to wander around (and, yes, struggle up steep stairs). It was an idyllic day.

Footwear: At every ruin with staff, we had to remove our shoes outside the compound (not outside the temple) and walk barefoot all over the sandy ground and floor. Few of the places were clean; there were bird droppings, ants and pebbles. Once into the temple, it was cleaner, but by then, everyone had also trekked in dirt from outside.

Before this day-long excursion, we did a quick look-see of the nearest ruins, those we could manage on foot. After that eye-opener, we ditched our shoes for slippers for the next few days.

Quick-dry slippers are much easier to wash and dry than shoes (You don't want to coat the inside of your shoes with mud.). And they are also infinitely more convenient to slip in and out of. Of course, they have less grip compared to sturdier walking shoes.

Touts: At all the major attractions, souvenir sellers and children hounded us. Some of the more audacious sellers set up shop in the interior of the temples! The kids followed us around and asked for sweets. Both children and adults asked for money!

Snakes: On our first visit to the ruins, a snake dropped off the wall above. I sensed movement from the corner of one eye and looked up to see a coiled bulk hurtling towards me. As I leapt away, the startled snake hit the ground and slithered into the grass. Eeek! But, I think it might have been a harmless reptile.

Budget (for two in US$ or kyat as indicated)

Room >> US$8 + Lunch >> K1,250 + Postcards (4x) + donation >> K360 + Dinner >> K1,500 + Horse cart (per day) >> K3,000

Next... Bali bomb blast

Wheeling and dealing in Bagan >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 15

2005-10-25T00:01:00.000+08:00

Oct 12: Night, Bagan

Tired. After taking a leisurely trishaw ride to check out New Bagan, we walked more than seven kilometres from that somnolent town (with expensive food and mid-range accommodation) back to Nyaung-Oo, with several delightful detours for sightseeing and photos.

Ah, transport. Every rickshaw, trishaw and horsecart driver quoted foreigners a price in hundreds of kyat, even for a distance you can stroll across in five or 10 minutes. And if you want a longer ride or to charter your personal carriage, be prepared to deal by the thousands in kyat. Truly a stimulating arena to sharpen those bargaining skills dulled by fixed-price living.

We are staying between Nyaung-Oo and Old Bagan, near the food places yet still within shouting distance of the nearest Bagan ruins. We found this hotel by accident. Actually, the hotel manager found us.

We were out for a walk after our 7am breakfast. As soon as we were out of sight of our guesthouse, a tanned, lanky man attached himself to us. He introduced himself as the manager of a nearby hotel and offered us accommodation and breakfast at the same price as that of our guesthouse.

Obviously, the market was very competitive and he had done his homework. He knew how much we had paid for our bed and breakfast in that guesthouse, with nary a word from us. Ah, shades of industrial espionage and the invisible hand of market forces at work. Harsh reality amidst misty, ancient splendour, but possibly advantagous to a couple of budget-conscious yet pampered tourists!

Since we were just metres away from his hotel, we went for a look. His place had been built for packaged and more upmarket tourists, who had not arrived in expected droves. So now, for the same price charged by our guesthouse, we were offered added facilities such as aircon, cable TV and breakfast at the open terrace on the roof.

Of course we took him up on his offer. Earlier, the nice lady at the front desk of our hotel in Yangon had recommended this hotel. She told us the manager (that lanky, tanned man as it turned out) was her classmate in school.

Bagan is for ruins buffs. Walk, jog or bike down one road and you will come across some ruins, usually sooner rather than later. Feast your eyes on weathered stones, aged grandeur and a stately dignity untarnished by creeping roots, winding roads, pestering hawkers and gawking tourists. Kings, marauders, explorers, archaeologists and tourists come and go. And through the centuries, Bagan remains.

Modern visitors, meanwhile, have to endure all sorts of people peddling trinkets and souvenirs just about anywhere with a tourist footprint.

While taking a leisurely trishaw ride, various people on bicycles and on foot came level with us and started to sell us paintings and pony cart rides. The painter entrepreneur unrolled one of his works and held it up. No? How about this one, then? And another painting was unfurled after his first one was stowed away. All the while, he was paddling his bike to keep pace with our trishaw. Awesome feat! Unfortunately, our appreciation of his fine balance and industry was miscontrued as a healthy enthusiasm for his works. Finally, we had to shake our heads firmly before he got the message.

Before we could settle down to enjoy our suddenly-not-at-all-leisurely ride, another man rode up. Waving his kyat at us, this one offered to change money on the spot, er, move! The Myanmarese has given the concept of a mobile stall a new twist.

Other enterprising locals set up business among the ruins. When we visited, they tried to sell us Buddha figures, souvenirs, gems (glittering like rubies) and postcards. Most trying was when these hawkers followed us while we were admiring the interior of the temples. We were not singled out for any special attention; the hawkers were very indiscriminate as they latched on to each and every visitor. Alas, no peaceful comtemplation to be enjoyed in the sanctuary.

Someone has posted this observation on a travel website: tourists are walking dollars to the locals. How right, but I think we will spend more money on souvenirs and such if the hawkers simply allow us to enjoy the ruins in peace and browse their wares at leisure.

Budget (for two in US$ or kyat as indicated)

Room >> US$8
Trishaw to New Bagan >> K600
Lunch >> K1,650
H20 >> K600
Dinner >> K2,200

Next... Snakes and touts (where are the ladders when you need them?)

Gateway to ancient splendour >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 14

2005-10-18T13:08:00.000+08:00

Oct 11: Night, Bagan

The ferry ride to Bagan was lovely. Glimpses of life along the Irrawaddy - women washing clothes and kids bathing and waving to passing boats. Very placid. In the distance, the ruins looked so stately, dignified. Some glittered under the sun.

Bagan looked very spread out, even from the river. As our boat approached the jetty at Nyaung-Oo, we saw some of the ruins. Old stones thrill me the way a Birkenstock or Brazil-versus-England football match excite some people, I guess. But first, to disembark.

The jetty at Nyaung-Oo was just a few planks put together to form a rickety bridge to connect us to shore. Then, it was up some steep and uneven steps to a desk under a tree. There, we were told to pay the US$10 entrance fee.

After that, it was time to deal with the local transport racketeers. Unsurprisingly, prices to town was controlled and inflated. The other option was a long walk to civilisation; footpaths leading somewhere were clearly visible. Some locals, hefting packs of something (I can't recall what, being too busy organising transport and bargaining.) on their backs, trudged on these paths and soon disappeared into the undergrowth. A couple of the budget-minded backpackers also headed off in that direction.

Meanwhile, those who had arranged their accommodation and ride into town through their travel agents had already roared off in their 'gilded' carriages. After strenuous bargaining, Annie and I piled into a cab with a group of backpackers, an excellent way to spread out the cost.

After settling into a guesthouse, we took a walk around the village, then an early dinner and thence to bed. Even though this is tourist season, there are few tourists around. We have bumped into the same few several times already, including some of those from our boat trip.

Budget (for two in US$ or kyat as indicated)

Taxi to pier >> K1,500
Coffee & tea onboard ferry to Bagan >> K400
Entrance to Bagan >> US$20
Taxi to guesthouse >> K1,000
Room >> US$8
Map of Bagan >> K300
Biscuits >> K150
Dinner >> K1,750
Rickshaw >> K200

Next... Old to new and back to old