THAILAND 1998



Fang

There was one day, just 24 hours, when plans went all to hell and our lives were changed. I ate whatever was offered, drank moonshine whiskey, and sang John Denver's "Take me home, country road" in a bar full of empty chairs. This is the story about the night Jon and I stayed in Fang, right on luck's boarder with chaos.

We wanted our money's worth. We were dead-set on burrowing into the essence of Thailand, but this day we went so far in we began to imagine not being able to come out. So here goes the Story of Fang. It was the hairiest twenty-four hours of the whole trip. It started in Chaing Rai, we'd been there for a few days because it was a good location to operate day trips out of. The two of us rented 250cc enduro motorcycles and rode into the mountains, expecting to be back before dark. We had just wallets and cheap sunglasses. We were on a loop that winds through the edge of the ‘Golden Triangle’ in Thailand, near both Burma and Laos. Foreigners are forbidden to stay overnight in Burma's military dictatorship, so this part of Thailand is virtually a dead end. Since the opium dens' disappearance, the only attraction is the fact that it has no attractions, which we hoped would provide us with a peek behind the mighty curtain of the Tourist Authority of Thailand. On the way to this no-place-in-particular, we saw a couple of backpackers, and stopped to hear their take on the area. "Oh, go to Fang; the people are SOOO nice, they never get tourists, so they'll just love you" - just what we were looking for. "And be SURE to dip in the hot springs nearby, they are the best! We even cooked ramen noodles in them!" they added. This last comment should have warded us off, or the look they crafted: it stood somewhere between Bob Marley and Mad Max. Jon saw the springs, though he resisted it's gurgling siren; later recalling to me "that was the nastiest fucking water I have ever seen". One persons soup is anothers' sewer.

We rapped out our motors through the flats of the farming valleys, and knifed our way through the twisty roads in the hills. The transition between the two was stark, the steep mountains seemed to rise from nowhere, giving me the impression that the valley I crossed was actually a green-brown lake. The warm sun shone periodically, and the roads were top-grade: every turn was banked and the asphalt was fresh. Along the way a local rider on a 125cc street bike stepped up his pace to dice traffic with us. Not to be out-done, we wicked it up ourselves. With each corner it was becoming a battle of the balls - double or nothing. I passed a car going over a blind hill. I stood up on the pegs to give myself an extra half-second for oncoming traffic, and satisfied that the other two wouldn't be crazy enough to follow, I looked over to see the impossible - the Thai was passing on the outside of myself, midway past the car, but with his head TUCKED DOWN! His motor sounded like it had a pocketful of loose change in it, and tears must have been streaming from his bare eyes, but he throttled that noisy beast to glory or death with no regard. My eyes couldn't get any wider if you showed me a municipal pool in Atlantis. Jon and I shook our heads and laughed. Living is different for those who believe in reincarnation.

It was a long ride into Fang, and once we arrived, we knew we had to stay the night or go back in the dark. Filled with the sense of adventure, though without toothbrush or towel, we started inquiring for directions to the guesthouse those ramen chefs described. The first person Jon talked to was a retired town official. With a big smile, he asked us to come back for a taste of his hospitality: ginseng whiskey. "I made it myself" he re-assures us, though knowing this had the opposite effect on us.

We had to book a room before night fell. When we got to the guest house, a middle-aged woman showed us a room. In all of our stays, it was the worst we had ever seen, so we asked to see another. This next one now ranked as the worst we had ever seen. The expansive bed we would share was inviting, but the concave shape foreshadowed an awkward morning. It looked like no one had rented in a long, long time: cobwebs were actively replacing the paint. Jon asked to see another, yet again surpassing fresh lows. The scary thing is that there were dozens more rooms. Maybe they descended like Dante's Inferno into levels of increasingly decreased rank. Back to the first. The first room had a good coat of paint, a hot shower, and hell, it was just a couple bucks each for one night. We signed. The hot shower turned out to be more useful to Jon than the bed.

First, we required toilet tissue. Thais use it for wiping their mouths at restaurants but you'll rarely see it in a toilet. Though the trip to the store was rather uneventful, we noticed a few piles of dirt in a vacant lot on the way. We could not resist. Returning, a six-pack of tissue strapped to the rear of my bike, we spent the waning moments of daylight in an reckless orgy of doughnuts and flat landings, brazened by our good fortune. How could something so basic stand out in my mind as one of the best times? What I would give to have a picture of me up in the air with that toilet paper roped on the back.

So began our night of debauchery. The local whiskey man ran an outdoor bar, just a few stools in front of a tall bar, which was rolled back into his house each night. He appeared to be about 50, his hair was thin and his face round. Pleasantries exchanged, we were soon offered a taste of his moonshine. His one and only choice of beverage was stewing right there on his counter in one-gallon masonry jars. Glass buckets of trouble. Through the glass, you could see ginseng roots resting on the bottom; on the top were some mosquitoes that had slipped by the gauze lid. As the chemist strained his creation through a sieve, Dr. Jon, my keen advisor, cautioned that I was not protected against malaria. I lied when I said the alcohol would disinfect it, but with only a few days left in the trip, I reckoned I'd be back in the States before it could kill me. Another man; tall, jovial, and dressed head to toe in white, gave the hard sell. In fact, the good man paid. For less than a dollar, I was served two shots in a plastic cup: no ice, water back. Jon sniffed at it, shuddered a bit and asked about beer. Curious and thirsty, I gave it an educated sip. I recall being pleasantly surprised, it was refreshing. The ginseng gave it a little something. Slightly watery, it had agreeable characteristics of both bourbon and scotch. Sweet, but like single malts, it had that chalky quality not unlike dirt, or a stiff tea. I imagined its' medicinal benefits and, to everyone's delight, I had another.

A neighboring shop owner who had the ability to spirit away both handkerchiefs and whiskey sold us cold beer. The subject turned to food, and to a dish made with pig's blood. Knowing that Americans prefer pigs' blood in the pig or not at all, they all watched our reactions with keen amusement. It turned out that the shop owner was also a farmer; a harvester of pork. He herded us next door, where we could see this dish being prepared. With a swiftness, his son whisked together fresh spices, and a liquid (possibly vinegar), with the unmeasured splash of blood. Then he took fists full of what I believe was raw, ground pork, and skillfully mashed it all together in a steel bowl. That was it. It was done. "For the on-the-go lifestyle"? Jon and I thought we might have missed something, but amazed by Thailand once again, we returned to the bar for debriefing. Just a moment later the butcher/shopkeeper returned with two samples of the product. It was wrapped in a leaf, it looked small and harmless. Before I could say no, but after Jon somehow had, the man placed it in my hand. The food was stone cold, so if it was from the same batch, it was surely uncooked. Many thoughts passed through my head at this time; that I wasn't really hungry, that I never eat raw meat with pig's blood, and so on, but the only thing that occurred to me was 'hey, it's not that big'. Hey, I didn't come to this country to eat pizza. Not wanting to be overly white, I said OK. But only if the server joined me. With an assuring nod, he indicated that he was certainly ready. With a grimace of a smile, so was I. Like jumping off a bridge, we simultaneously put the leaves into our mouths and grinned at each other. I knew it was going to be soft, but I chomped out of instinct. My mouth tasted the leaf, a minty fresh flavor which mercifully overpowered my tastebuds. I would eat a bush of those leaves right now, it tasted so good to me then. It was not the flavor, but the inescapable thought that I was eating raw 'stuff', which made my reflexes gag. With forced nonchalance, I reached for the water as I heard the whiskey man say proudly "that's the point of Thailand". Funny, I never saw this in the book.

The merchant had to wake at 3am to butcher more livestock, and the proprietor had to close his whiskey stall. So we joined the man in white at his family's bar. The black vinyl chairs and the brown laminated tables were arranged around a square stage which was set above a dance floor. Oversized, I thought, considering the size of the town and the number of clients. It was not long before his father, mother, sister and young niece joined us for a copious family-style meal. To start, we were served a seafood soup and unlimited rice. Stewed together were fresh green beans, bamboo, squid and bits of fish in a savory broth. Then the main course was a pair of 20lb fish, oven baked with onions and served whole. The mother generously broke the head away from one fish and offered it to us. Taking her direction, we ate the rich cheeks, but were astonished as she pried it's skull apart and showed us what she considers the best part. As Jon and I looked at each other, the father was already going for the other fishes' head. Bad fortune sent it to the floor, and the disappointed look on his face was too much. We quickly moved our fish head towards him, and his wife understood and took it. We passed the time talking of computers and what a fantastic meal lay before us. Eventually we could eat no more, and a long-haired youth stepped onto the stage and began to warm up on his casio keyboard.

Karaoke is a sport reserved for special nights such as this. We were amongst friends, but more importantly, we would never have to see them again. Also, the stage was bigger than the audience. This was an opportunity that we couldn't miss; this was part of the Asia Experience. They go nuts over it there, so after some cajoling, we broke the ice and jumped in. The Man in White explained that we could sing whatever we wanted, but the catch was that he had no English lyrics. The first song on the menu was the one we sang. 'Take me Home, Country Road'. We had two vocalists, a harmonica and a Casio. We stuck to the chorus, mostly. To our surprise, the father stepped up to masterfully sing a Thai pop song. He was in his element here, and what I saw before as solemnity now seemed like professionalism. This was his bar, his family, and I don't have the foggiest what song it was, but this song was his song. It was great. We danced like mules while he crooned with the grace of Sinatra.

Then his son whisked us to a separate lounge on the third floor. All we could see at first was a massive projection TV screen and some couches. As my eyes adjusted, I counted about 10 men on the biggest, closest couch. They were all in full dress uniform; soldiers or cops. On the screen were beautiful Thai couples holding hands, prancing through rolling grass as soft music played. On the couch, a mike was being passed between them. It made our karaoke session look like Iron Maiden reunited. But the atmosphere changed into one of those cowboy movies when the new guy walks into the bar, and it turns dead quiet. I blurted out the obligatory "sawadee krup" and they laughed. Maybe it didn't matter, but I felt a whole lot better about walking into a dark room full of armed men. We finished our drinks, and needed no more, so this was the end of our night (so we thought). Our eyelids were drooping down toward the luxurious couch; we really had to go. Later I speculated what this room is really for, and what was on the second floor of that building, and how such a large establishment could be supported by so few customers, but I really didn't need to know, so I didn't ask. Perhaps it was a brothel, an opium den, or a station in a weapons ring; though I saw absolutely nothing to substantiate this imagination. It could be just what we saw: North Thailand’s' most exclusive choice for those who like to sing.

I remember saying our farewells and hopping on the bikes for the brief ride to bed. I recall pulling up next to Jon to tell him we had arrived, but seeing him speed up. I hollered again, but Jon's ride was not over, and there was nothing short of shooting his tires out that would bring him to a stop. I parked my steed and joined the owners, still watching television in the lobby. I could still hear his motor nearby, but it was getting farther and farther away. Resigned, I went to bed. Jon survived this far without me worrying about him, he can make it one more day, right?

I woke at 4am to relieve myself and I was still alone. Just moments after I went back to bed, he came stumbling in, bloodied and torn. "I can't believe I'm still alive" was his first remark. His elbow had a gash in it containing a soil sample big enough for an entire geology lab. He was limping, and his face was bruised. He hosed himself off and gargled something about "the Burmese boarder, skull and crossbones sign, crashed twice". He crashed at a boarder checkpoint, indicated by the forbidding skull and crossbones sign. This was Burma, where recently a few European men had foolishly wandered past the checkpoint and had been detained for 'questions' for three weeks. They must not have had the right answers. Jon said he was in top gear on the highway, just outside of town when he went off the road. After pulling himself out of the ditch, he briefly remounted, and again found the weeds. The second time must have been worse: he said he considered laying there all night.

I went to look at the bike to see if it was ridable. Pieces of the levers were left, but the handlebars were askew. The front fender dangled in a way which begged to be pulled off, but couldn't be. The bike's front wheel had been blown out-of-round, and lost 4 spokes. When it rolled, it oscillated hypnotically from side to side. I have only seen a rim do that when somebody went 90 feet off an 80 foot jump. If the Law of Physics has an enforcement agency, it issued Jon a relatively light sentence. The bike was not so lucky.

This town had already seen too many bike wrecks, a tribute sculpture of twisted bodies and motorbikes was even displayed at the front gate of the local hospital. The next morning a small crowd was gathered around the wreck, stroking their chins, noting damage to the bike and pointing at the blood which had dried on the dented tank. Jon had enamored them with magic and wheelies before departing the night before, and they showed some concern. As Jon descended the stairs, one by one, I could almost hear the theme to Rocky in my ears. Clearly, if it was possible, Jon was going to swing his good leg over that saddle and ride her all the way to Chang Rai. But after a few wobbly blocks, Jon decided to pull into a bike shop for a safety check. The service department scrambled it's forces immediately and began the repairs. It looked like a back-alley version of the Datona 200. Unfortunately, my bike was due in a few hours, so I had to press on. I left Jon nursing his wounds and a bottle of Red Bull amid a flurry of wrenches and tire irons. I found out later that the total cost for this hour and a half of work was about twenty dollars, and the manager wouldn't take a penny more.

My hope was to see the natives, the legendary hill-tribe people. I even imagined what the perfect situation would be like. I couldn't pull up, pale and loud, and just set the kickstand. I wished I had an inside connection, then I could shed that tourist feeling that plagues those of us who travel infrequently. At an isolated pass in the high mountains, I pulled off the road to get a proper view. The dirt path was worn, but no tire tracks were visible. At once, I saw a small man. My wish had come true. He was walking the same direction, and flagged me down for a ride. It couldn't have been better. He didn't speak a word, but climbed on back for whatever ride lay ahead. The path was scored by countless rains, and it was moderately difficult with a passenger. Awful trusting, I thought, not knowing whether I meant him or me.

Just a mile later, we entered his village. It sat on a ridge overlooking valleys and mountains alike, the sort of view that makes you want to giggle like a school girl or weep like a baby. The houses were sturdy, simple plank creations which lacked paint or glass, but still looked hospitable. They must have heard the bike, for there were already people emerging before we stopped. The first were the kids, wide-eyed and jittery. The hitchhiker nodded his thanks and sank into the background as the mothers came out to watch and encourage their children. In contrast to these plain brown houses, the oldest women wore very ornate headdress' which are made of silver balls linked together across bright cloth. I had seen these women at markets selling crafts, but I didn't expect them to wear such fancy trappings here. Another contrast lay in their shocking smiles; their teeth were blackened by a protective tar, but were bright with warmth. I had heard of the black smiles, strangely it didn't prepare me for seeing them.

As I looked out across the houses I saw a few men squatting under an open roof, idly watching me. It was the center of this town of a hundred, and pointless to tiptoe around, so I walked up to show myself. Could this be how the great explorers of the world felt as they pushed out the edges of maps, not knowing if the pelt they would be trading would be their own? No. Ironically, the first man I approached wore the same brand of jacket as I. With my hands, I pointed this out, and we shared a good laugh. As I finished my hello, an older man offered me some brown liquid from a plastic jug. Oh no, I thought out loud, "whiskey"? He recognized that word, but with a friendly purse on his lips, he shook his head and poured. This was tea; good tea, at that. Missionaries years gone by had left more than the songbooks and bibles. If what I read was true, this was from a never-ending pot of tea which was used to purify and flavor whatever water was available in this remote haven: it might be the only water they drank.

I happened to have a bag of crackers in my pouch, which I handed to those children brave enough to approach me. Some looked at them curiously, seeking their mothers for direction. Others took small bites only after I showed that yes, they were for internal use. Some may still have the cracker, a souvenir from that mysterious pale rider who would eat anything.

Foolishly, I came here to be a passive observer, as if to explore a distant exhibit in a museum of cultures, but without comfort I found myself to be the one under the looking glass. More and more people gathered to see white-man-on-wheels. Maybe they thought I was from some coffee company and was going to offer them millions for their land and services. Maybe I was going to teach them the ways of yet another great god, even more almighty than the last. They obviously hadn't seen too many 'farangs' lately, so I guess this village wasn't in Fordor's Guide to Lost Civilizations. For their entertainment, and to soothe my nervousness, I boosted a few handstands and let the kids keep the change which fell out. I finished it all off by offering some chewing gum; perhaps years from now it will replace tar for oral hygiene. Some anthropologist will ponder this village of Juicy Fruit, unable to explain their fresh breath and bright teeth.

So here was the culmination of this fantastic voyage, my dream come true; I sat with a tribe of people who were living much like they always have, nearly independent of the web of commerce being spun around them. As I kicked the motor over, I gave my thanks to the villagers and pondered their situation as they surely pondered my own. Time will prove their lifestyle the wiser, a choice I believe they make every day. Towns and roads are being built around them, but all they want is a little Adidas. Because my gear was in Chang Rai I had no camera. There would be no indelible evidence of this event, no souvenirs or T-shirts. Just our memories of each other, synapses and neurons altered by witnessing a lifestyle so foreign it could only come from the other side of the world.

Jon has all this and a good scar.


Tony: Friday 12.18.98 Chang Mai – North Thailand

I arrived early this morning in Chang Mai on a so-called Super VIP Bus. It was little more than a basic tour bus designed for the proportions of the average Thai person (read: short compared to the average Westerner.) Whatever the case it was far from The true Super VIP bus I’ve ridden before. Lesson learned: treat the truth that the tour agents speak on Kao San Road with a grain of salt – like Epsom salt.

Luckily I managed my own seat, which meant I could contort my body into a semi-prone, feet above my head fetal position I managed about two hours of sleep, which was far more than I usually do. There was no super suspension on this bus, so I bounced precariously to the beat of Radiohead on my newly purchased “Sony” (not) walkman. By the time we reached our dinner stop at 01:30 in the morning, my back was in a bad state and I regret not simply sitting in an upright, though not so comfortable, pose. My back is definitely fucked up at the moment.

We arrived only to be loaded into a pair of hired pickup trucks. Apparently, this particular tour bus has arrangements with Julie’s Guest House, cuz that’s where we were scuttled off to. Julie spoke a patois of English what’s defies the North American speed limit. Very good it is, but it’s apparent that she’s on a roll of a sales pitch aimed at her “special” three day, two night mountain, river, hiking, elephant tour through, not one, not two, but four different indigenous hilltribes. This may be a truly great trek, but I have mild distrust of all the various guesthouses offering “special” hilltribe treks through areas where nobody else will be… especially when they run these things daily.

My stomach’s gurgling from a bout of the trots and I feel flu like. I’m more interested in a simple room where I can pass our for a few hours, shower and shave. I interrupt Julie’s spiel, excuse myself and ask if there are any rooms. I don’t know if she simply thinks I’ve just walked up, whether shre reads right through me or if there’s something about the way I look, but she says in a not so polite manner, “ we have no room for you, only ‘these’ people. Follow my brother in the green shirt…” I can take a hint and split my own direction.

Now I’m loaded with my pack, my back’s fucked, my stomachs queasy, I got a leaky shit wishin’ to be liberated, I’m missing my girlfriend Kara and I’ve got no place to stay - not so good. But as I’ve learned on countless treks through other regions of the world, it’s only at the shittiest that things start to get good.

OPEN YOUR FUCKING EYES:

I manage a stroll down the street, see an obscure sign to a something something guesthouse (not the Dungadee where Jon raved about, though I did look for it,) but it turned out to be a nice clean quite place with teak planked floors and genuinely friendly people who smiled (do note my comments on this that will follow later.) I took a room and slept till after 4:00.

The first thing I did was rent a bike to scoot around town. All around me were Chinese Temples and Thai Wat, teak planked guesthouses, residences with songbirds, little kids running along to catch a glimpse of the “Hapones”. I had shaved the ten days of scruff on my face to a neatly trimmed goat beneath my chin. Together with the newly coifed flattop and sideburns, I’m not sure what the kids knew what to make of me. I was just different and they liked that. It’s a nice change from the instant assumption that I’m from Japan – “konichi wa, genki desu ka.” Don’t get me wrong, I value my heritage and know my roots better than some of my contemporaries, but I get a little bit tired of the instant assumptions and the non-recognition that most North Americans are non-indigineous AND that they are not necessarily farang. It’s probably a two edged sword and a blessing in disguise, and I’ll likely see that once I reach Lao.

Anyway, the point I started out on was, I instantly realized that Chang Mai is much much cooler than Bangkok, and I’m glad I got my butt up here even though I think the commercial treks are best suited for the lazy, time-pressed tourists.

After my wearyness subsided and I woke from a long nap, I hopped on the bike, scooted to the market. My first task was to eye out an ATM from which to reprovision the monetary situation. You cant go too far as a traveler if you have no cash, and my smiles at the moment are running low. A trip into the market finds me a stash of tea - not any tea, not Lipton tea (analogous with Nescafe for coffee,) but some Chinese tea that the locals drink. I don’t speak enough Thai to ask for it in the restaurants, and I’m tired of bad coffee and bad tea, so this was a real find. Things are definitely getting better. Ooh, twinge of the trots hit me. I have two baht and there’s a public bathroom handy to my left. Sweat beads down my forehead.

I toss sung baht to the attendent and swiftly without a trace disappear into the first stall. I can’t wait, I’m eager to spill…. I look down. I’ve worn long pants, boxers, socks and boots in order to ride the bike today. It’s not quite the same as being in the islands where a pair of swim shorts or sarong and zori were the norm. I haven’t quite managed the skill of squatting above a Thai toilet without completely disrobing, and the colder air here in the north pose a new challenge. I take a deap breath, methodically untie my boots, peal off my socks, look for a nail to hang my pants…. Ahhh, much better. I realize that I’m regular again and on the road to being back to my normal self. One thing about the Thai, while it appears so primitive for a Westerner, their bathroom habits are really quire sanitary. The have the equivalent of a bidet, and I’ve come to quite appreciate being squeaky clean after my morning (midday) ritual. However, as I stand to reach for my hanging pants a crippling twinge of pain shoots through my lower back. I fall against the wall. Images of being trapped till the market closes cross my mind. What if I can’t get up, what if the woman bathroom attendant comes round to find me half naked with my boxers strewn around my ankles, barefoot, thingie dangling and me not able to do more than whimper? Sweat beads down my forehead, I jam my foot against the far wall into the cesspool of the toilet drain. A cold bolt shoots through my back. I force one leg through my pants, pause, lift, and begin the process again. Pants on, I look at my boots. Those fucking clunky hunks of shit I’ve lugged around for the past five weeks. Their a pain just to tie normally, and stooping to reach down is not something I can fathom. Somehow I manage. A gleam from the bathroom attendant, a giggle from the shopkeepers who think I am drunk, I stagger out of the market. Onwards, home to the guesthouse.

Finding Home One thing I learned long ago was ALWAYS remember how to get home. I forgot this cardinal rule. At least riding a motorbike is tolerable. My back seems quite at ease, but my mind begins to worry, where the hell is that alley I’m staying in? I decide the only course of action is to eat. I pass a night market. Dozens of stalls of all assorted types of food adorn the street. I park the bike. Not quite the assortment of Trat – there are no fried crickets, but the normal noodle stands, fried chicken stalls and pastry stands line the way By the way, Thai fried chicken is about the best in the world – hands down. I don’t even understand the sad attempt at opening a KFC in Thailand. They are plain outclassed into the minor league of taste.

I dine of pan fried noodles, fried greens and rice. I’m famished. This is the first real meal aside from steamed rice I’ve eaten in two days. I gamble and opt for a beer – not good for a bad stomach, but I feel good all of a sudden. On the second round, the woman at the beverage cart says, “no cold beer.” I point to the Thai concoction that I’ve seen Thai fishermen drink. She eyes me suspiciously. I smile and ask no good? She points to the bottle next to it and says, “I think better.” Gingerly she pours a shot into a clear glass neat and hands me a water back. If memory serves me right, it’s called Chiew Chung and comes with a red lable with Thai script (no Western writing) in the same bottle as a large Chang Beer.

Drinking it I taste herbs, much like a Jagermeister. I don’t think this is good for the liver, but you never know…

I’m at the end of my meter again. My backs fucked, but the guy at my guest house says he knows of an acupuncturist who can help. I’ve never had needles willingly poked in me, but at the moment I’ll give it a shot. If all is well, I’ll either jump aboard a bus to Mai Sai to renew my Thai entry permit for another 30 days at the Burma Border or pay 500 baht for a two week extension. Two weeks should be fine, but it’d be nice to have the liberty to travel uninhibited within Thailand before I jump the Lao border at Chang Kong and into Luang Prabang on the Mekong. Whatever the case, I plan to head east to Pai, and rent bikes to Me Hong Son if I can find a riding partner.

It’s a week from Christmas. I think I’ll be in contact before then, but if not, have a merry/happy/safe one.

tt
Jon:
The trip has come to an end. It's only been 10 seconds in Seattle, but for me it feels like years since I've been here. I'm an alien in my own home.

Everything was really good. I must say the highlight was the niceness and generosity of the Thai people in general. This impressed me the most. There are few Thai people that I met that wouldn't go out of their way to help someone out in need.

Overall, I feel like we got a pretty good coverage of the entire country. Starting in the south with our good friends at the beach, checked out Phuket for a day, then flew to Bangkok to meet our friend Norm. Norm came with us to Authuya to see the ruins for a day. Then Dave and I took a train to Chang Mai to do some serious motorcycling at the Dungadee guesthouse. Spent some time doing there and eventually moved on to the north east (golden triangle), Burma. This is where Dave and I lost each other but miraculously happened to run into each other in Chang Rai, about two hours from the Burmese border. Spent some time here doing our own motorcycling touring, then headed back to Bangkok to prepare for our trip home. The Asia games were going on all over the country so there was an excess of foreigners everywhere. All in all the trip was a total succcess. I was glad to be with my friend David because we seemed to be heading in the same direction.

I did have a little accident on a motorcycle but it was to be expected. Nothing that won't heal. If I've got nine lives, I think I may have used a couple on that one. No serious injury though.

Managed to only see one other American the entire trip other than our friends. This was definately a different for me, but I enjoyed it.

That's it for Dave and I. I was thankful to be able to share our experiences with everyone. The trip has made me appreciate my life more and my material things a little less. The trip was a definate success. Now it's time to slowly slide back into that american life I've nearly forgotten about. I suppose things will work themselves back to normal, but somehow different than from before.

Drinking to my friends
And drinking to my foes
For both keep a young heart moving.

It’s good to be on the trail
From where my heart set sail
Puttin anchor down
For friends and good beer

Horner here, back in the States.
We left with the same pack we would use to stay the weekend-believing we would buy the rest and 'blend in'. The clothes we left at home are the ones Thai people wear, and the ones we bought the first days (Thai silk with elephants on it) flagged us as the foreigners which we were - pronounced "farang" by the locals. A semi-derougatory term, but harmless enough to be used by us.

Thailand is truck tires recycled into comfortable chairs and functional trash cans; it's the language of the calculator, which is more fluid and pleasing than the American register. Thailand is a prodigy child, reincarnated and again in it's adolescense. Irresponsible, creative, on the verge of greatness. Maybe like a supermodel who is unknown and ackward in her high school days, Thailand will develop from her gangly economy into yet another kingdom of riches.

Thailand is men welding in their flip-flops at midnight, getting up in the morning to drive a taxi(or tuk-tuk); women working even harder, up to three jobs at a time, driving mopeds everywhere in between.

Some of the many ironys are that men walk with men arm and arm down the street, women walk with women arm-in-arm, but to try to get a high-five out of some of them brings a look of disgust at the freshly touched hand. The Thai greeting is a prayer-like bow, a low bow is like a firm handshake. I think the handshake fear might be related to the lack of toilet paper. Less on that later.

The dogs are all small, street smart, loved and (measure them yourself) have bigger balls than the elephants. The people have cell phones, beepers, tv's; but flush the toilet by dipping a doggie bowl from a big tub into the small ceramic one - used in the full squatting position; better for getting down to the task, but worse for reading.

For some reason I wretch at the idea of the meatballs of Thailand, but I know that an American hot dog is the same ingredients passed through the same machine just one extra time. It reminds me of the common Thai/engligsh expression "same, same, but different". Use it, it works.
I'll write more later.

Tony: Friday 12.11.98
My last entry was from two weeks ago, and my recollection of events is a bit sketchy so what follows is probably more fiction than fact… but it is inspired from real events with minor details skewed, tweaked or imagined. Only a few lines are stolen and taken out of context to fit the scene (forgive me Luke.) Enjoy. tt
When I reached the dive shop this morning I learned that diving was going to be affected by a stint of bad weather. I’d had a week of good diving, so I though it best to split town while the going was good. I had to boogie back to my bungalow, collect my laundry and pay my tab. I managed two of those tasks well but spaced on the laundry as I packed. Oh well, I didn’t need those shirts, that towel and that pair of boxers anyway. My bag’s all the lighter for it, I doubt I’ll miss any of that shit anyway.


As I walked to the motorbike taxi I stepped into a nest of fire ants. Kids, don’t try this one at home - fire ants are not to be fucked with. The top of my foot was ablaze and the trailing sting surgically acute. Flash - I’m running late, I have no time to fret and wine about this shit. Just hop on the bike and make the ferry. You have ten minutes… Go.

I cross the deck of two fishing boats to climb aboard the ferry. Rollers are already headed in and the decks looks like an obstacle course from some bad MTV game show. On board I manage my way to the rear deck. Thai families line the seats, the farang sprawl across the prime real estate of the main deck. A lone Thai woman fights for her share of space as farang surround her. I secretly applaud as she holds her ground. I take a seat along the back bench.

Underway we roll in two meter swells. The Thai look worried and some of the farang are already hurling themselves to the deck to zook their lunches of bad pad thai, rice and pineapple. I think it a bad sign when even the locals look scared. I glance around for signs of flotation - nothing in sight. There are no orange safety vests, no life rings, nothing designated as safety equipment. I analyze those around me. Most are too sick or oblivious to care. There’s one fat fucker with long dreadlocks who has “I can’t swim” written all over him. I’m starying well away from him if our boat goes down.

The boat pitches from side to side, spray begins crossing the deck and the small rip in the awning begins to tear ever wider. The old Thai sage sitting next to me looks into my eyes, knowing, reassuring, calming. He smiles and manages a chuckle. I see him as a frog sitting on lotus. He rises above the hysteria and points on with his gaze to the horizon. I grip the supports above me and half hang, half sit through the roll of the boat. All are turning green around me, even the Thai. Clutching plastic bags they point their dripping noses, mouths to the awaiting sacks. Some miss, and the signs of rice and prawns and noodle melt into the seawater and rust swirling at my feet. The journey lasts and seems never ending, the boat pitches side to side, forward and back. All is wet. The sage floats on lotus.

I search for signs of land. The burning sun falls to gray, visibility hits a low, the tarp above is no protection from the wind and sea. While I may have imagined or exaggerated the size of the swells before, they are certainly two meter swells now, rising and falling to hide the entire ferry in its trough. White caps are all around and sea spray has drenched everything on deck. There is no more puke on the floor, no shrimp, no noodle. I’m covered in salt and as I look to the sage for comfort. He appears no longer as a wise frog floating in a lotus cup, but as an old man stooped over railing asleep.

We sail into harbor at Chumphon. The seas have calmed in the protection of the river estuary. The massive fishing fleet that feeds the eastern seaboard is in port hiding from the storm. All are much wiser than the captains of the ferries. Fishermen mend their nets, secure their crab pots, and bathe on deck from blue plastic barrels filled with rainwater. They show no modesty to the passing ferry, and only a few farang rush to grab their cameras to capture a Kodak moment. Most of us have regained our composure, swiped our hair, gathered our things. We exit down the gangplank, an ill designed contraption better fit to slinging fish off a boat.

Normally at this point we would be surrounded by touts urging the farang to “come this way, look at my picuture, follow to my bungalow… very cheap, very cheap.” We all have a similar destinatation however, Chumphon Central, where the train and bus stations are. For the local Thai Chumphon is a commercial center. It’s fishing fleet feeds Bangkok and all the towns surrounding with squid, crab, mackerel, jack, sea bass and an assortment of other food. Building supply provisions transit through the ferries filled with western toilets, tile, and prefab huts destined for the islands to house the farang in their search for tropical heaven.

There are no touts here, only a local bus monopoly with transportation to the city. The open air bus is filled to the gills and a lone pickup is loaded with a dozen farang and their backpacks spilling over its sides. I walk up holding a flimsy ticket looking for a seat. There are none. There is no railing to hang my butt off, no space to load my pack. I’m stopped from climbing atop the bus to ride the roof. The Thai woman who stops me says, “no space… full.” I point up the ladder where backpacks are loaded. She expels, “Can Not.” I retort, Can! A melee of negotiation ensues. I loose. My friends are squeezed into the already overloaded pickup truck. I take grasp of a post off the back step of the open air bus. This brings back memories of Durano where I once watched a man get his arm ripped off as his bus sideswiped an oncoming truck. He wasn’t fast enough ducking back into the bus. I make sure not to lean out the side, because there is no space to duck back in.

My meter's running out... gotta go.


Horner here, The 5th was the beloved kings' birthday. The Thais' celebrate either by prohibiting or promoting the sale of alcohol, and by closing all the public swimming pools. The dang tuk-tuk drivers drove us there, dropped us off, and we found out what I think they already knew - that it was the kings' day, not ours. We were in no hurry, though. The police were eager to practice their english, and explain that the only way we were going to be wet was to sweat. The wager to go swimming in the gurgling black canal system of Chang Mai goes up every day, and I don't think it will ever be high enough. The water is older than the species which inhabit it. I did, however swim from Thailand to Burma for 1000 baht, but if the water was considerably fresher. Years and years of 'sacking' and revenge have left the area riddles with ruins. Crumbling walls and temples remain - unmarked, unused, and unchanged. Nobody has finished the job off, and nobody has cleaned up the mess.

The past week has been bike week. Some of the greatest riding of our lives. On/off road, difficult, and fast. We probably went by rare species of plants, insects, and waterfalls, but if we wern't picking ourselves up from it, or it wasn't directly in our way, we didn't see it. Not a tourist treck, just good, hard fun.

Now that we have set our departure date (Dec 12th), we set into finding the 'real' Thailand. We rode to a remote town, got a danky room in a friendly guesthouse, and introduced ourselves to a man who used to be the attorney general of this town called Fang. He served us homemade ginseng whiskey (strained to remove the mosquitoes), and his friend took us to meet his family, who we had dinner with. We ate EVERYthing that was offered to us (you don't want to know), sang karaoke, and the next day had a great ride through the mountains back to the city.

Jon's bike had a problem absorbing an impact of great proportions, so I rode on while repairs were made at a local shop. I went on a 'short' cut through the mountains, and ended up giving a hilltribe guy a lift to his village, where both my white skin and my dirt bike became the spectacle of entire villlage. I just wanted to get a good look at the absolutely beutiful view, but felt that I ought to do something, so I handed out some ritz crackers to the kids, and tried to pull a good handstand. I really wanted to go and see a hilltribe that wasn't part of an organized treck, and I got my wish. Little did I know that it was ME that was to be observed, not them, with their teeth blackened, and their huts of grass. I gestured to the mountains, drank the tea offered to me, and returned their smiles and amazement. These people are living the good life, I wish I could have told them that, but maybe they already know, they haven't made much of an effort to change their ways.

Signing off from Bangkock, David


There is so much to tell since the last writing. I'll just hit a couple of the main ones since we will be coming home on Sat.

The biggest part was the most killer dual sport riding on the face of the earth. If I win the lottery (I'm planning on it) I'm bringing all the boys over to ride this stuff.

Reason #1
There are ten million trails that all have the most incredibly hard riding as well as the most scenic riding I've ever done

Reason#2
There are no rules when you're on the street. This is like going into downtown Seattle with a permit to do anything you want. Riding on the sidewalk, ride the center line, jump curbs. I think they consider motorcycling like bicycle riding used to be in Seattle, anything goes. For someone whe really knows how to ride without getting killed this is nirvana. Besides, we're in Thailand. We get another life, right? (just kidding mom, I'm careful)

The guy we've been riding with is this German guy who has been living in Chang Mai (Chang Mai is where we rode, I'm in Chang Rai now) for something like ten years. He runs the Dungadee guest house where we stayed and also does motorcycle tours from the guest house. His other business on the side is growing and roasting coffee. I'll bring some back with me.... He is by far the craziest rider I've ever seen. yes, even crazier than the Wez man. (Mom close your eyes for this part) The rules on the open highway are whoever is biggest vehicle has the right away. Huey (german guy) would see someone coming and passing and intentionally get a little closer to them just to scare them. He is riding a motorcycle and playing chicken with a semi truck. I think he wants to get to his next life fairly quickly. Oh ya, he also doesn't ride with a helmet. He was trying to show off a little since he said we were the best he'd ridden with but I think this was a little excessive.

Next year at this time I promised him I would do my best to come back so wse can do more riding.

Today David and I went to Burma to get our visas extended. It is legal to enter the country as long as your out by 6pm. We had just watched "Leaving Rangoon" the movie, so I was a little freaked out. Anyway David and I were seperated but I had no worrys because the plan was to go to Chang Rai and go to Mays guest house.

I took a bus to Chang Rai and nobody has ever heard of Mays guest house. Hmmmm. So I've been here all day riding a dual sport bike I rented all around town.

David if you read this please email me ASAP so we can hook up before we hit Bangkok.

The Asian Olympics (Asia games) are going on right now so I'm sure it's a mad house there

My plan from here is to hang out in Chang Rain for the night then either head back to CHang Mai and do another dual sport ride or go to Banngkok and do some shopping. New suit? All depends on if I hear from David.............
cya JK

Tomorrow we head into the mountains into uncharted territory for a REAL motorcycle tour. We've met up with a German guy who is going to show us the real jungle tour on motorcycles. We will be riding Honda 250 that are japanese imports. Can't wait. We had the option to get 250CR's that are street legal but we lopted for the 4 strokes. May not hear from us for a couple of days as we will be in the jungle but will get a post as soon as we get back. Parts of thet trek will be very sketchy as we will be crossing the Burmese border. Last time this German guy went there he met some Thai rebels that offered to let him shot the grenade launcher at Burma for a couple bucks. Sounds good...... Don't worry, we'll be careful. Sounds like he knows what he's doing although he's never been to this part of the country before (as well as probably alot of people)

Called on the tickets and the 16th is looking good so don't sell my seasons opass Grant..........
cya soon
Jon and Dave

Dec 1st?
Still in Chang Mai. Worried about our tickets now. We're 95th on the waiting list to leave in Dec. This was something they didn't specify to us when they said open ended ticket so we're hoping to get in there. Actually it's not as bad as it sounds. The airline lady said we had a pretty good chance.

Everyone keeps emailing me about the snow in Seattle. I'm getting amped. Sounds like everythings open now..........Starting to go through Seattle withdrawls.

Last night we stayed at a nice guest house (Top North) with a pool and a few other nice amenities. It was a little expensive ($4 per person per night) but we wanted a good swim. Today we will be staying in the world famous motorcycling guest house called the DuangDee house. It's a little less money ($3 each per night) and Uwe and Na are going to take us into the jungle and show us how to motorcycle Thai style. They have these really cool japanese import dual sport motorcycle dirt bikes that aren't even available in america. Na says there will be lots of scorpions. The usual pharlang (tourist) thing is to go on elephants but when Pete and Brooke we're here they told us about how they would whack the elephant in the head witht teh dull side of the machety to get it to get moving. When we were in Authuya I saw a guy use a huge hook that he would just jab the elephant until it started moving. I don't think I want to support this type of cruelty. It probably doesn't really hurt the animal too bad but......I'd rather do it on a 250cc two stroke japanese import motorbike.

The tour will take us into the jungle east of Chang Mai. As you can see from the map below it's all mountains and I dont' think there are any 'real' roads over this way. We'll get pretty close to Burma (hopefully not too close, as it's still under military dictatorship{isn't it?}) Then up to the north near Laos. This is what is called the golden triangle beccause something like the majority of all the opium in the world is grown here. This is also where there are still several hill tribes and very remote vilages. The regular jungle tours take you there but the hill tribes become something of a human zoo after being visited once a day for the entire tourist season. The motorcycle tour we will be taking will be going through some pretty much unccharted areas where they hardly, if ever see white people. Should be interesting...... It's kind of scary up here in the north because of several reasons. The one that really concerns me the most is malaria. Lots of travelers have been taking the medicine which makes you pretty sick. You have to take it for a few weeks before you go on your trip, during, and after the trip for it to work. We hadn't bought any and it's not a problem as long as you don't get bit by the wrong mosquito. It's a risk but we'll wear lots of jungle juice and get some long pants and tshirts.

TThe only possession I have with me is a pair of shorts and two tshirts. Everything else I left in Bangkok. I'll have to purchase some pants to mcycle in and a jacket or something.

Rule #1. Never bet any money on any thai person for any game be it pool, backgammon, checkers, or anything else. I swear I've never seen a girl kick my butt so bad in pool (without hardly trying) as last night. Actually they have snooker tables here which are even bigger than normal tables. David thought he could beat her in backgammon so I put my money on the thai girl...and won of course.

Ok time to get one more good swim in before we change guest houses.
adios

Nov 30th

Took a train from Bangkok the other night to Authuya (the oldest city in Bangkok) with our friend Norman. Saw a really bad motorcycle wreck. It was ugly. Put a little scare in us all.

Stayed in a really nice place for the night. Very expensive 500baht per night ($4 per person). This was high class for us. That night we went to a real (locals) discotech to see a thai band. We were the only whiteys (pharlangs) in the whole stadium. I guess you would compare this to an american concert. There are a few big differences though. Everyone buys a bottle of whiskey at the front door with your ticket. Once you're inside they server you water to mix with the whiskey. It was like a bunch of 18 to 25yo thai kids all drinking whiskey and getting down to this thai singer chick.

It's really hard to explain without actually being there. I wish I had a video camera taped to my forehead for the past month. Then you wo0uld really get what I'm trying to explain alot better.

Personally I'm not much of a liquor drinker so Norma nd EDave hit the whiskey and I snuck in a few beers. Since the smallest bottle is a fifth, between the two people they got pretty smashed. Well, all of us did and forget the name fo our guest house we were staying at so it was very hard to tell someone (taxi driver) where you want to go when you don't know yourself. Regardless we managed to eventually get home.

The next day we took in a little culture and rode bicycles around the town to see what was left of the temples before the Burmese destroyed them years ago. There are still some very precious jewels and buddah statues left in the museum here. They had elephant rides as well but I don't really aprove of the beating of the animals very much so we didn't do it.

(Please excuse my spelling and grammar in these updates. I'm writing these for everyone to know what we're doing and not to be tested on spelling and grammar. I seldom go through and look at what I've written so some of it may appear wierd. Either that or we've been drinking too much)

Norman works in Bangkok and so he had to go home. Before he left we all got Thai massages. I honestly can't think of very many things in my life that have felt better. I've never heard my neck crack like that. Every joint in my body was stretched and pulled and twisted into bliss. It was worth every penny. $5 total for 2 hours. I think I know what I want to do when I retire.......

Last night we took the train from Authanaya to Chang Mai, which is where I'm at now. The train to Chang Mai left at 9 at night so we had a couple of beers and snuck into the super expensive hotel and jumped into the pool. The life guard eventualy woke up (I think he sleeps next to the pool) and wanted to charge us for swimming. We kind of talked our way out of it by playing it up like we were guests but as soon as he went inside to check our credentials we were out of there. Probably not so good on our Karma but there was no harm done.

We had 20 min to make the train after our swim and the station was a few kilometers away so we hit the store to stock up on beers and then to find the fastest transportation in town, the motorcycle taxis. Usually as a joke we bargain with them and get them down to a reasonable price then say "only if we can drive" , usually they laugh and say forget it but the guy I was getting a ride with said OK. This will only make sense to everyone who knows about motorcycles but these are 250 two stroke street bikes that are all pimped out. There's traffic everywhere weather you're in Bangkok or in Authuay so driving to begin with isn't easy (left hand side). Dave's driver wouldn't let him drive and Dave didn't want to anyway. The bike had amazing take off power and rode like a Honda CR built for street drag racing( if the Wez man could see me now). It was only a few clicks to the train station but it was worth every penny it cost us to get there ($1 to be exact) I tipped him, which is really unheard of here but I thought it was pretty cool that he let me ride his bike. Imagine how long it takes him to save to buy this bike and he's letting some crazy tourist ride it across town. This is what I mean about the Thai culture being so nice. It you can make someone else happy, then it's worth it even if it means risking something valuable of your own. Maybe if more americans felt this way things would be different........yes, things would be different.

Chang Mai is the largest city in Thailand aside from Bangkok. This is where everything is super cheap. It's a little colder (70) but very nice. I left everything in Bangkok except the shorts I'm wearing and a shirt on my back. The train ride was something like 14 hrs so we just got really drunk and woke up 14 hrs later. We jsut got a hotel room and Dave decided he still needed a little more napping. I'm heading out to check out the town a little more and look into renting some big motorcycles. They have big 600cc dirt bikes like mine except the ones here are the ones that amerians can't get. The Honda Africas! I think they're like 750 twin cylinder beasts. They're really expensive $5-8 per day but worth it just to ride once in your life.

The plan is to get some bikes and head into the mountains on a little trek. I miss the beach but our current guest house has a pool so it's not so bad.

We're 95th on the waiting list to get home in the month of Dec so I think that means we have a good chance. We're hoping for the 16th but we'll have to take what we can get.
cya

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE!
Wish I was with you all eating turkey! It's Cocoa Puffs for us at the time you're eating turkey.
love Jon & Dave
11.26.98
Jon and Dave:
Left Ao Nang on Tues and took a bus to Phuket. Phuket is like the Vegas of Thailand. Nothing but strip bars and bad attempts at american food. This seems to be where most of the tourists hang out. We rented a jeep and drove around the island for a day but didn't jive with the whole scene at all, spent one night here and got the hell out.

If you can survive driving a day in Thailand you should be considered a pro in America. Lots of people die because they forget that you drive on the opposite side of the road. There are two lanes marked but to the Thai people this means nothing. The rule is the smaller the vehicle the less right of way you have. Honking means get out of the way someones passing, corner or not. If there's an accident our friend from Ao Nang said drag your body off the road any way you can because if a thai person mames you they have to pay for your medical, but if they kill you then they only have to pay for your funeral. Therefore if there's an accident sometimes they jam it into reverse to finish you off. Our dive instructor said it happens often. It's good to have someone watching your back.....

Dave and I took an airplane to Bangkok rather than train which is where we are now. Our friend Norm lives here so we're staying at his house until tomorrow. Bangkok is completely packed with people because the Asian games is happening here in a couple of days. It's a very big deal here and I've never been in a city with so many people. I feel like a salmon swimming upstream just trying to walk down the sidewalk.

We were walking home from a bar last night to Norms house and stopped to watch these guys play soccer behind this garabage strewned area. This thai guy comes up to us and explained to us that these thai guys are the actual thai team that is playing Nigeria in the games next week. It just seemed strange that they would be practicing in a big dirt field with garbage all around it if these guys were the best in Thailand. Sure enough, we get up this mornign and there is tv cameras in this tiny little alley interviewing players......

Our plan from here is to find out when we can get a flight home. We're hoping for the 13th (not Fri) but we have to fax our tickets to the airport and all this other stuff just to find out if there is availability. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.....

Tomorrow we head to Autthanaya(spelling?) which is the oldest city in Thailand. The ruins there are supposed to be spectacular. We hung out with some thai girls at the asia games beer garde last night and asked them where they would go if they were on vacationa and they pointed us to a couple of places up north that won't have many tourists but are really cool. We're also looking onto some meditaion classes and then if time a motorcycle trek into the jungle. Things will be very different fromn our previous beach lifestyles from now on.

Things are very surreal compared to our safe little seattle liefestyle. It's like we've traveled back in time. I'm sure things will be even more different up north.

cya soon.....

Wednesday 11.25.98
Tony:

Greetings All,

I hope I catch you before the Thansgiving break. I’ll miss the bird and trimmings, but so far I’m still stoked on the assortment of food I’m running across here in Thailand. I’m parked in the town of Trang at the moment in southern Thailand. It’s a city with all the urban trappings and a long stretch from the beaches I’ve been hanging out on, but it’s a transportation hub with cheap Internet access. Trang is famous for the Vegetarian Festival which Brooke and Pete caught three weeks ago. Elder males go into trance and pierce their cheeks and faces with an assortment of houshold appliances, fan blades, rubber hose, knives forks and anything that will stick out of their faces. Hinda different, huh? That’s the South.

There’s a confluence of cultures here - Indian, Chinese, Thai, Malay ... and most of the locals living in the villages are Muslim. I heard the call to prayer two days ago by an Islamic Imam. It was broadcast outside the mosque and into the hills around Klong Dong on Ko Lanta. It stopped me in my tracks it was so beautiful. The pious turned East toward Mecca... while European farang whizzed by loudly on mortorbike oblivious to this daily ritual. Times like these I’m glad I look a little different from the average farang.

I’ve spent the past five days on the island of Ko Lanta which is south of Krabi and Ao Nang where I spent the week before. While it lacks the limestone climbing and white sand beaches of Pranang, it’s just as beautiful... though, a whole lot sleepier. Not too many travellers and fewer tourists. I did get two great dives into Hin Deung and Hin Muang (Red Rock and Purple Rock.) I saw schools of barracuda, octopus, cuddlefish, an assortment of other colorful tropicals and more morray eel than you can shake a stick at - gotta watch where you poke your hands. Thus far, I’ve made six dives out there, and I’m getting quite adept in the water. If I trip over another good diving base I’ll probably park it a week and get my advanced dive certification. [Jon, Dave... you still wanna get some diving in?]

I hooked up with a trio of Australians from Sydney the other day and made a trip to some nearby caves. The road out there was slicker’n snot with wet red clay. I had Wong, a Malay expat living in Sydney, on the back of my bike. Michael and Paul, the other two, were seasoned dirt and road bikers. They peeled out and popped wheelies most of the way there - local kids went wild, and that only egged them on. We rode past rice paddies and into the hills of the rubber plantations. Soon huge taro appeared with leaves the size of elephant ears. All around us wild orchid, spikey rattan vine, and mango trees grew into dense jungle filled with snakes, lizzards, and monkey. We decended into the caves almost a mile. At the bottom was a fresh water pool to swim in and rinse the red caked mud off ourselves. The air was thick with little oxygen - we couldn’t even burn a lighter. As we crawled on our bellies to the next cavern we saw huge lime stalagtites and stalagmites. Bats clung to the ceiling and scattered as we turned our lights towards them. Fresh air led us to an exit, and we later learned that some of these caves extended 10 Km underground - not a place to wander around without a guide. I’d say it was worth the 100 baht we spent to come out alive.

The weather pretty much sucks at the moment. I haven’t even sunburned yet, though, I’m slowly turning black. I’ll head south tomorrow to renew my travel visa at the Malay border. Hopefully I can link up with a travel partner to go north and explore Chang Mai, Chang Rai and the Mekong River into Laos. However, if the weather changes I’ll head east to the islands in the Sea of Thailand - Ko Samui, Ko Phangan and Ko Tao. The diving’s cheaper, and the full moon will bring a pack of travellers in to Ko Phangan to drink shroom tea and howl at the next full moon.

Peace and a happy Thanksgiving

tt

JON & DAVE:
sometime in Nov
we just left Ao Nang yesterday to come to Phuket to send some email. Email is really expensive in Ao Nang. Been spending lots of time at the most beatiful beach in the world and got our scuba certificates. I guess this wasn't good enough for Tony, He's on his own agenda. Scuba dove at Phi Phi island which was incredible. We don't have time to to get to the Similan Islands but maybe nexzt time.

Never get a haircut in a country you don't speak the language.

Never drink local whiskey ahile you have your passprot on you....

We're spending one more day down here and then taking the train north to do some jungle trekking and motorcycle riding. No beaches up there so this is wherre the remote stuff begins. Not sure if we're going to fly or take the train. Both are dangerous but then again there's not much here that isn't..

The food is incredible, the people are extremely nice and the land is picturesque.

Heard it's snowing at Baker so we're looking into getting our return tickets sometime around the first week of Dec or so. As clost to xmas as possiber without hitting the big rush.


The journey from Bangkok to our current home (Krabi, outside of Phuket) took a total of 18hrs. We started from our friend Norms house with only a half hour to make it to the train station. It was a 520 style gridlock all around the huge city of ten million so we had to take the much feared motorcycle taxi. The disbelieving kids on 125cc motorbikes only gave us a ride after confirming that this is what we really wanted. Knees tucked in, we threaded our way through the smog, buses, and tuk tuks. Driving in between lanes is definitely legal in this country. The two drivers had some competition going on so they took different routes. We weren't sure if we would ever see each other again, and it wasn't until we saw each other on our train car that we did..

The train was smooth and slow and at one point broken. We saw a repairman head off with a huge crescent wrench and hammer, and 2 hrs later we were off again. There was an Irish guy who demanded our whiskey so he could prove that he could drink "twice as much as anybody". We stuck to beer. When we got off the 12-hour ride, it took a while to get the land legs back, but we had to take a bus immediately to go further south. The bus was nicer than any Greyhound, but the American-style Thai music and smoking French people made it a little longer than the 3 hours that it was, and alot longer than the 2 hours it was supposed to be. We were very glad to get off the bus in Krabi, fend off about 20 'helpful' guides and take a pickup-truck taxi 12 miles away to the beach resort called the "Sea Beer" This is where we met Pete and Brooke. They already had been here for a while and had everything set up for us. The Thai people are always more than helpful. Our days here have consisted of hangin on the Riley beach and meeting lots of Europeans (swedish girls), there are hardly any Americans at all. One day we rented XR250 motorcycle and jammed around town. Other than that lots of snorkeling and talking to foreigners.

Pete and Brooke just took off to Bangkok and Tony is heading south to travel to some islands.

There is a huge kickboxing festival coming soon we may stick around for.

The food is far beyond excellent and super healthy.

Tony
Sunday 11.15.98

Met up with Jon, Dave, Pete and Brooke in Ao Nang Friday. Passed through Pranang and Railey Beach on the way via long tail boat. Nice white sand beaches that are free of any cars, polution but filled with European farang. I didn't really mind the topless women strolling down the beach, though - no complaints there. Lots of rock climbing along the limestone faces. .

Brooke and Pete will leave Ao Nang on Tuesday. Jon just loves the hotel - eats, sleeps and drinks in the cafe below. I gotta knock some sense in the Kid's head that there's more to Thailand than the Seabeer Guest House. .

The three of us rented motor bikes today to head back into Krabi. Everywhere around is dense jungle, banana groves and rubber plantations. Huge rock faces spring up all around covered with greenery, vines and monkeys. Local kids point and giggle and whisper to themselves... pssst psst farang (giggle) psst psst... .

Onwards later this week. I'm not sure yet if I'll head south to Ko Lanta, jump to the Gulf of Thailand to visit Ko Tao, west to Ko Phi Phi to wreck dive or north to Chang Mai... I'll figure that on out by Tuesday and be on my way. .
More to come.

Thursday 11.12.98
Leaving Bangkok today heading to Krabi to meet up with Jon, Dave Brooke and Pete. I don't know exactly where they are, but I trust one of those guys is reading this and is gonna give me the lowdown on how I can find them (hint hint.) .

Bangkok is hot, muggy and poluted, but as I walkn through the markets wonderful (and a some foul) smells fill the air... garlic searing with bok choy, chili, chicken roasting, smoke and the ever present smell of fish sauce. Of course, there's the occasional whiff of raw sewage or something rotting, but I try to focus on the good stuff, and there's a lot of that. .

I finally caught a full night of sleep last night, and by the time I reach the beach I think my sleep schedule will be in sync. Today we toured through the Grand Palace. Boy talk about a lot of sparkley tile. Definately worth looking like a tourist for. . Time to catch the bus outt a town. More to follow.
tt

Tony
Tuesday 11.10.98
Ha - those numbheads downstairs in the little blue suites didn't know anything about the two FREE Internet terminals upstairs in the Asiana Lounge . ) Just arrived in Kimpo Airport after the first 12 hour leg of this trip. Like Jon said, lots of cheesey movies... but this way I got to see X-Files - The Movie. I don't think Grant would've let me get away with that one AND Godzilla all in the same night. I'm a little queesey from some bad fish in the in-flight meal. More to come in the next few days. tt
Jon and Dave
Fri 11.06.98 We're off to Thailand. Arriving in Bangkok on Nov 6th and staying there with our friend Norm for a couple of days. Then heading south to the island of Phuket (west side) to hook up with Pete and Brooke. We're planning on getting our diving certifications right away so when Tony gets here on the 9th we can all go diving together. Check back for updates! (hi mom)
Tony
Jon and Dave are outta here tomorrow, so... you can assume there's a little shindig goin' on here at the Greenhouse tonight. Swing on by.
Myself, I'm catching the late boat outta town on Monday. Stand by for Travel updates. . tt
Jon nd Dave
Dave and I made it to the Korean airport. What a flight, watched too many cheesy movies and haven't slept in what seems like forever. We'll be in Bangkok in 10 hours then hang out for a day and hop a train to Phuket.

We made it to Bangkok safe and sound. Fortunately we have a friend here (Norm) and he's filling us in on what to do. We went on a little boat ride up the river yesterday to see a huge reclining Buddah. Huge as in, as big as the statue of liberty. The whole thing was plated in gold.

The motorcycle riders are totally crazy. They rule he road, sidewalk, and the everything in between. There are as many motorcycles as cars because the traffic is so bad. The pollution is so bad that most people walk around with rags over thier faces.

The people are so friendly that as soon as you pull out a map someone will instantnly walk up to you and offer to help you find a tailor.

We've bought our train tickets to head south and will be leaving tonight at 7 our time. We will be with our friends near Phuket tomorrow afternoon.

Can't wait to get out of the city and hit the beach.