Peculiarities

Asia sure has odd notions about western food. I haven’t forgotten the peculiar references to toast I encountered in China— rooted, from all appearances, in some bizarre toast mythos completely unknown in America. All Thai dishes at SR Bungalow have been perfectly satisfactory, if not better, yet this morning confronted me with porridge: porridge in boiling-hot condensed milk. Then, in the evening, the misguided cook ruined his “local seafood spaghetti” with spaghetti-O sauce. It must be said that our “Asian” food is just as far off the mark, but seriously, spagetti-O sauce? From now on it’s Thai food till I hit the west.'

Those spaghetti-O’s left me more queasy than satisfied. So, off I went, looming thunderheads notwithstanding, to secure some milk (milk is pleasantly commonplace in Thailand) snacks, and soap. I also purchased a flimsy umbrella, for the skies burst during the shopping, and a little adapter for my computer. Smaller shops in Thailand, as in China, carry a most convenient array of merchandise. This one sported candy, junk food, cigarettes, all manners of alcohol, a full spectrum of hygiene products (diapers included), power-bars (not the food), other electrical odds and ends, microwave burgers, some deli meats, ponchos, and umbrellas, not to mention items I failed to notice or remember. The lower-48 may stock similar stuff, I haven’t spent much time in their gas stations, so I can’t say, but I’d be mildly surprised.

In China we were on the lookout, if buying sunscreen, to avoid buying the skin-whitening varieties inadvertently. It was never a problem, but there are so, so many whitening products on sale here in Thailand— not just sunscreen. I spent longer than I should have watching Thai television, in un-subbed Thai, a few nights back and the ad segments were dominated by whitening deoderant, whitening body-wash, whitening sunscreen, and just plain old whitening cream. I’d venture they’re as common as weight loss ads in America (which are non-agents in this country).

The downpour slackened as I sloshed back to the beach, though lightning still flashed in the distance, and I saw my first firefly ever! That alone was worth the storm: a most entertaining insect.

Maenam

The coffee here is the worst, even Nescafe puts it to shame, and the only thing on T.V. is Aljazeera. But besides those two (minor) negatives, Maenam is just lovely.
The beach is a tad narrow by tourism standards, but that doesn't bother me, what's important is that it's empty, absolutely vacant.

China to Thailand

Hong Kong------

After Kunming, Hong Kong Internatial Airport feels like a space station, I'm a huge fan. The rooms are cavernous, the surfaces immaculate white, save for bright signage and adverstisments, but the ceiling-- a seemingly endless sea of wave form white and shadow-- is what stands out the most (besides the size).

After looking more closely it seems that what's really doing the trick is natural light. Expansive windows let it in at the sides, and the ceiling above the decorative waves is all slim, white lattice with emptiness abounding. Above it I see a solid roof, but it slants up and away from the center, letting in light at the eaves. With the reflective surfaces (most of them), the space feels even bigger than it is.

I'm wishing for more time in Hong Kong, and I haven't been outside the airport. Nor will I go, since my flight departs this evening. Several hours remain till then, but my exploring will be hampered by the big pack, which I can't check in. Royal Jordinian doesn't come into counter space until 7:00. Such is life.

I can't imagine enjoying Hong Kong overmuch, it is a city after all, but it looked intriguing from the plane-- so many little islands, shipyards, and ships of all manners on the waters. The city seems all near the shore, comprised of neat skyscrapers, yet behind, and even amidst it, are forested mountains. I may be back someday.

The currency here is downright fun to boot: brilliant green, purple, pink, and orange, plus odd, wave-edged coins. Sadly I'm not rich enough to keep money as a decorative item, and I just spend all my HK cash on "A Dance with Dragons."

Bangkok---

Bangkok is humid, more so even than the aftermath of a hot, hot shower. You could cut the air with a butter knife. Inside my hostel, however, it was ever cool as could be asked for.

Saphaipae Hotel was the name of the place, and I was quite pleased with the best bed I've known since the states, showers that actually showered, helpful staff, and a tasty restaurant. I checked in after midnight and had the whole dorm to myself, but was joined on the morrow by a fellow American (though a six year EU resident).

Having accidentally donated my towel to Dali I was obliged to buy a new one. So, Jeff (I'm fairly certain that was his name) and I set out to do some exploring. The first thing, besides the heavy air, that struck me were the smells. I'm somewhat accustomed to the fragrance of a Chinese city, but Bangkok is different. There's a palpable touch of peanut in the air, a fair bit of spice, a tolerable level of left-out-too-long fruit, and, of course, exhaust. The city is populous, but insanely quieter than anywhere I went in China.

We wandered to a larger department store, secured my towel, and had a bit of lunch at the food court. It was nothing special, but faster, healthier, and about six times cheaper than most American fast food. Afterwards we grabbed some ice cream, and that was slightly odd.

The ice cream was normal enough (coconut), but the toppings included dainties I wouldn't fathom on dessert. We had a choice of chocolate sprinkles, toasted peanuts, red beans, corn, two varieties of julliened, mystery fruits/vegetables (mystery because some process had been performed on them), and some weird things most like pomegranate seeds, though they were three or four times larger, and bright, artificial purple.

I saved adventure for another time and took some sprinkles.

Bangkok to Koh Samui------

Bus is not the way to travel in Thailand, not if one can avoid it. I took a sleeper from Bangkok to Suratthani for a mere 1000 Baht (ferry to Koh Samui included). I got there alright, but it took a good fifteen or so hours. A flight, on the other hand, would have done the job in about one. Our cabin, which I shared with an Italian family, was too cold for sleep, and build for midgets.

From Suratthani we took a ferry to Samui. There I left the Italians and hopped into the back of a truck to join some French girls for a ride over to Lamai beach. One of them sported a massive scab, incurred, I learned, at the famed Full Moon Party (an event I've thought of attending, but the internet tells me it isn't what it once was, and is nowadays an over-commercialized, police-infested, hive of luddites). The two of them were rather enamored of it nonetheless.

But, sadly, the internet is not infallible. It informed me I'd find Lamai to be a relatively quiet Samui beach. "Relative to what?" I wonder now. The streets are a pattern of tailors, massage parlors, bars, and hotels. At night the air trembles with the bass of inumerable dance clubs. Lamai is most clearly a vacation destination, and I don't expect to stay overlong. There must be a truly quiet beach on these islands, and I mean to find it.

The Jade Emu

Dave, who owns the Jade Emu, is ridiculously good at pool. There's a little notice on the wall here-- anyone to best him wins a free night's accommodation. Games go on all day, but he never loses. Dave takes two, or three turns in a average game to sink every ball. It's probably no coincidence that his table is the best I've seen in China.

There's a fair sized group here at the Emu. Roni, Phillipe, Jon, Idnn't Mitch, myself, and of course Dave, have spent the day or two playing pool with little interruption. As such, I haven't much news, but it passes the time admirably. Incidentally, "Idn't" is not that persons name, but his nickname. I've totally forgotten the true one if I ever knew it.

The other day I had the most awkward couple of hours. Two fellows I'd been chilling with all day invited me to dinner with their friends. I accepted, but as we collected more and more companions from the city it became apparent that they all knew each other, indeed they were all traveling together, and that they were all German. The only issue was that they spoke in German nearly all night, leaving me with less of a clue than I'd have had with Chinese.

There are so, so many Israeli people in China, and I've figured out why. It's because after the mandatory military stint they're granted a sizable lump sum and encouraged to see the world a bit. They have a huge representation among travelers, at least here. I've met one Frenchman, one Spaniard, one Italian, two Brazilians, five Canadians, only one or two Americans, several Germans, plenty of English people, and a very few northern Europeans, but at least thirty Israelis all told.

Well, bother, I felt I had a lot more to say when I sat down, but it doesn't come to much after all. Relaxing days lie ahead, till the thirteenth, then I fly to Hong Kong.

Dali, text to come soon

I managed to get ripped off again today. A weathered older man scuttled up to me on the street. He wanted to polish my shoes, for a price of course. Initially I refused, and we argued a bit, but eventually I had to admit my Birk’s were looking pretty shabby. The man would shine them for two yuan, and I figured he could use whatever little money shoe shining got him.



He led me over to an alley where he and a friend maintained their heap of business items— three tiny stools, assorted rubber bits, rags, knives, numerous tins and jars, and thread. The polishing commenced. I was pleased the shoes were sprucing up a fair bit, but I ended up paying way more than I wanted to. It began when the fellow brought to my attention a parting, in certain areas, between the leather and cork. He shook his head, sighing, as if it were a great shame. Then quickly he applied glue, and passed it to his partner who began sewing the two bits together, the full length down. This alarmed me a bit, as I hadn't request the shoes be poked full of holes. However, after the initial surprise I could see he knew what he was about, and that this probably was an improving measure. Lastly they bolstered my worn heels, and charged me 102 yuan. I was visibily annoyed. I had planned on paying more than 2 yuan, since they were clearly putting in work and deserved more than .30 cents, but having the price raised on you is a different matter from raising it yourself. Registering my expression, the man explained the cost of the several shoe-operations, all the while glossing over the fact that he’d performed them without telling me first, or asking if I would like them. Sneaky little goblin, I ended up paying what he asked so as not to cause a scene, and also because he had my shoes.



I neglected to mention I’ve left Lijaing, and am now staying just outside the old town in Dali. Some people swear to the superiority of one city over the other, but from what I’ve seen so far they’re not much different. I do prefer Dali though, mostly because there’s a lot more foliage around, but also due to ease in navigation. I suppose Dali feels more alive than Lijiang. People are going about their lives— washing dishes (in the street), making deliveries, chatting with neighbors, and cooking for their families within view. What’s more, unless they’re all paid actors, is that everyone seems to be happy. It’s more vibrant than miles of repetitive storefront.




Honestly I’m astounded at the practically miniature old town. I came here expecting it to entertain me several days at least, but I’ll probably have to look beyond the city limits. Tonight, though, I just feel like resting. Maybe the guesthouse has some books I can borrow.

I'm in a pretty good mood recently, I feel like the body's finally on the mend, albeit slowly. Joy and I have switched off, so I stay up late and she gets up early, which is just peachY. Plus Lao Luao and James have gone on vacation to Tibet, so the days are much quieter.

I've been putting a lot of thought into future (work/education) plans, but results are less than forthcoming. Teaching continues to be an option, but I don't know that I could stomach all the regulations. I do love explaining, and I get along well with young people, but is that enough? Summers would be free, and that's nice, but I have to consider that, even though younger people can be entertaining, I'd spend much of the day without any adult interaction. Talking with people certainly makes the days faster, and usually better, so I'd be loathe to miss that. And again with the regulations, if there's anything I hate doing it's following pathetic rules.

It's also occurred to me that environmental work could be engaging, yet I have little idea of what people in that field actually do, or how to get into it. I have been researching a bit, but information is strangely scattered concerning what I assumed to be a well documented field. Ah well, at least I have this time to think.

More Fragments

It's been awhile since I wrote anything, and there's a reason for that: there's not much super exciting action going down. Not to say that I'm having a bad time, but the day to day events are as routine as can be imagined. I wake up at about seven, sometimes a little later, but nobody knows the difference except me, move out into the main hang-out space, and chill around online until everyone gets up (which is often very, very late). James usually keeps me company during these morning hours, he's supposed to be doing schoolwork, but he's about as into it as any self-supervised twelve year old on vacation. Evenings I spend here, or out at this Irish Inn/bar on the other side of Old Town.

James has a lot of unspent energy. He's bored. His parents are divorced, and he doesn't consider Lao Lua a father figure. He's twelve, and English isn't his native, but I can see he's extremely upset that his parents split up. Couple that with the reality that he has no-one his age to hang out with, and spends the first five or six hours of the day doing homework (or, rather, not, and so gets scolded) alone save for myself. Today, though, we went on a hike together and played some pool. Happy doesn't describe his mood.



^^^^^^^ This is James atop the wall surrounding a t.v. tower at the top of the mountain. Getting up it, with my help, and jumping off it (especially the jumping) made his day, I'd bet a hundred dollars it made his summer. I don't think he thought he had it in him, he had about six false starts. At the end of the day, though, he made the jump.

I very much disapprove of the parenting style, not to mention animal-care style here, and in China at large. It's absolutely draconian-- involving much yelling, strict demands, and little reward. I'm not sure anybody here's ever heard of setting an example and, were you here with me, I'd probably be couching that statement in curses.

People here tie their animals up. And when I say that, I don't mean they have them on a leash, I'm talking like a two foot piece of rope. Fairly often I'll see a dog in an honest to goodness cage, with inch-round metal bars, and barely enough room to lie down. Today, during the beginning of our walk, the family threw rocks for La La (yellow lab) until I went and got a stick. Rocks . . . I don't think they even knew what was wrong with it. Yesterday I passed by a cat, crying, stuck on top of some doors that were leaned up against a business. It was stuck because the fuckwits had it tied by a very short string to the top of the doors. I had half a mind to come back, in the night, and cut it away in the event of its continued presence. As it was I settled for withering disgust broadcast, by my face, to the people nearby. Realistically, there's nothing I can to do change this nation, or even this city, or even this neighborhood. It sure is depressing.

On a brighter note, at last I'm beginning to know my way around. The old town is a maze of alleys, but restlessly coursing them over three hours (the ginger excursion) left me with a solid grasp on the layout. To my utmost frustration that day, I knew I was very close to home, but it took me foooreeeeeveeerrrr to find the right turnoff.

A gripping shot of a hot water heater. This sort of device is found on 99.9% of Chinese buildings.



Lijiang from the mountain. The old town where I live and roam is in the lower left portion:



My back is showing slow signs of improvement. I almost fear to dream of the time when it's mended. This condition is such a drain on daily life that I can't begin explaining it. Every moment of the day is impacted. Hopefully things will shape up. I'm missing Juneau terribly this summer, but I think I've got a little more travel in me at least. I may quit China and see the rest of SE Asia for a bit before heading home.

To my family, I hear things are even more difficult than they should be in this terrible time (for you non family, know that my Grandmother very recently, and unexpectedly, passed away). I know, however, that you must all certainly being doing the best possible for one another.