(AJ Goes to China): Hmmm... Bangkok. Wow! Laos!

Some of my suspicions about Thailand were confirmed before I even left Hong Kong. Unlike the loud arguing Chinese that filled my flight from Hong Kong to Beijing, the gate for Bangkok was surrounded by foreigners in Hawaiian shirts. I ended up talking to the guy sitting next to me whom turned out to be a fantasy book writer from Chicago and showed my pictures of his Thai girlfriend on his PSP (Playstation Portable - complete with full compliment of accessories and a metal carrying case). He assured me that I'd love the women there because "they're all tiny". I started to feel very uncomfortable, but remained cordial and told him his girlfriend was very pretty. When he found out I didn't have a hotel reservation he was worried that everything was full (it being the high season) but started rattling off places that might have space. "Very cheap," he kept adding, "Less than $100." Despite my attempts, I couldn't get through to him that cheap for me meant less than $5 a night.

The Bangkok airport was a very impressive new airport and filled with friendly, helpful, and most importantly, English speaking staff. I instantly knew this would be a cakewalk compared to China. I jumped on the express bus to Khao San Road and through conversations with the bevy of backpackers filling the bus quickly realized I wouldn't be the only one searching for a bed that night.

The bus took forever through the afternoon traffic, and looking out the windows I saw a lot of similarities with China. There were small markets and shops lining the pedestrian filled streets and the roads were filled with taxis, small vans and the infamous "touk touks" a glorified gas powered rickshaw. The main difference (apart from the alien scribbles on all the signs) was that the streets were packed with foreigners, most wearing shorts, flipflops and tanktops or in many cases missing shirts altogether. This was a surprise, but Khoa San Road was a complete shock to my system.

After dismounting the bus I found myself in the midst of a pedestrian street packed with foreigners and lined with bars, shops and guesthouses, and guarded on both ends by Thai "Tourist Police" armed with AK47s. The street was filled with a mix of backpackers, expat deadbeats and tourists, and many of them strolled around beer comfortably in hand. It was like a more raw version of Yangshou, but also on a heavy dose of steroids.

Khoa San at Night

It was indeed difficult to find a place to rest my head, but after not too long I'd found a cheap room at a guesthouse down one of the side alleys off Khoa San. The room was very basic - basically 4 thin wood walls ringed at the top with mosquito screens, a bunk with no sheets, a fan and a door with a small padlock. I couldn't complain too much though, for the privilege of staying here I only had to pay about $4 a night, a bargain on Khoa San. to boot, the downstairs had a cool open bar with a TV, a pool table and friendly staff that could whip up a mean fruit shake.

I wondered the streets in the putrid heat, unsuccessfully looking for shorts and flipflops, ate some delicious red curry washed down with a beer and quickly decided it was time to turn in - still tired from my 5am wakeup in Hong Kong.

The next morning, after a quick cold shower (surprisingly heavenly in the Bangkok heat), I made my way downstairs for a banana pancake (an apparent standard backpacker breakfast in Asia) and some coffee. I was taken aback to find the world was continuing on without me, apparently oblivious to my absence. The TV showed live coverage of President Bush's speech as he announced the deployment of 20,000 new troops to Iraq. The restaurant was silent as the guests and staff listened over their morning meal. I sat down in kind and found myself increasingly frustrated at the U.S. centric nature of the speech. Here I was, the only American in a room of foreigners taking in every word and I began to feel strange. After meeting so many great people from other countries and seeing everyone watching intently I couldn't help but thinking that he should really be addressing the world and worrying about the world's security and not just our own. Oh well...

I took the last bite of my pancake, sipped my coffee and pulled out my guidebook. The night before I'd had a similar feeling as when I'd first arrived in Beijing - "OK, I've made it to Bangkok. Now what the hell do I do." After analyzing the options I decided to immediately head to Ankor What in Cambodia and then jump a plane to Hanoi - that decision turned out to be short lived. I leaned over to as nice looking girl at the next table and casually inquired whether she knew anything about getting to Siam Reap. To make a long story short, two hours later we'd bought bus tickets to Chiang Mai, in Northern Thailand, enroute to Laos. So these things go...

Debbie, turned out to be a Canadian health food specialist from Sarnia (relatively close to Toronto) and is traveling around SE Asia on her way to work in Australia. We spent the afternoon walking around Bangkok to escape the craziness of Khao San Rd. We saw the impressively large (in fact the largest) gold leaning Buddha, had a beer looking over the river and hit up some local markets. After walking the streets and chatting with the locals, I began to gain respect for Bangkok, and its people. They were all so friendly, gentle and generally seemed to like having us around.

Bangkok Food Market

That night we grabbed some BBQ fish and hit up the local nightclub where we met the owners, smoked an apple chi cha and met some cool Israelis and Australians. This all occurred to the beats of the local band whose sets ranged from Lisa Loeb (yep, reach back... that's her) to Metallica, with the most convincing impression being Axl Rose belting out "Don't Cry". Two Pitchers of Heineken: 500 Bhat. Apple Chi Cha: 250 Bhat. Skinny Thai kid wailing like Axl: Priceless. A couple hours later we were drinking free Heineken from unlabeled mugs and attempting to dance to bad Thai hip hop. Shortly after that I'd thankfully retired to bed.

The next morning Debbie and I met for breakfast and wandered north looking for a park. After two hours of wandering, all we'd found was a huge square filled with tanks and military helicopters. This, of course, made my day, but Debbie, more intelligently, proceeded with a notable look of concern across her face. We also finally found a park of sorts, except the 20 ft alligator filled moat, 12 ft brick wall complete with barbed wire and the fatigue dressed guards with AKs strangely didn't make us feel welcome so we moved on.

That night we boarded the tourist bus for the 10 hour trip to Chiang Mai. It was slightly more comfortable than the Chinese sleeper buses, with fully reclining seats instead of cramped cots, except they really weren't kidding when they said "air-conditioned". Fellow travelers boarded in shorts and sleeveless t-shirts and soon everyone was wearing jackets, winter hats and blankets to fight the cold.

When we arrived at 6am in the morning, they loaded us in a number of sawngthaew (pickup trucks with converted benches in the back) to get us into the old town. It felt like we were an invading army as we rode in, under the cover of darkness, in our caravan of sketchy pickup trucks, though I couldn't quite place the purpose of the invasion (cheaper beer? It's really rather cheap already...).

After another six hours by local bus and a short tuk tuk ride later we were aboard a small wooden boat with a couple other backpackers crossing the Mekong into Laos. for once, the book of lies got something dead-on accurate - as soon as I arrived in Laos, I took a deep breathe and felt as if a weight had been removed from my shoulders. We were instantly greeted by Mr. Lan who took us to a small group of tables, bid us to remove our packs and take a seat and brought us the required forms for our visas. He spoke perfect English and said to me, "please fill in this form Mr. Handsome" and then told me it wasn't a problem that I didn't have a photo which was clearly required. Later on I raised issue when he called another guy Mr. Handsome to which he calmly replied that whether we're ugly or attractive we're all "Mr. Handsome" because of what comes from the inside". This is the kind of comment that normally would invoke either vomit or a punch in the face from your author, but from Mr. Lan his sincerity invoked only a single solitary tear of joy. What a country! Laos! Who knew!

An hour later we were sharing a beer Laos (best beer ever) with a French guy outside one of the guest houses when I politely excused myself and hiked up a small hill to the Wat we had explored when first arriving. I climbed the extra stairs to the first level of the drum tower and sat on the concrete railing and watched the bright red sun set over the bamboo huts of the village and sink into the Thai hills which rose above the Mekong. Meanwhile the constant rhythmic hum of a dozen monks chanting in a nearby home kept me company as I sat riveted to the view. At that moment, the near 24 hrs of bus rides were all worth it. I had arrived in Laos and felt better for it.

Sunset Over the Mekong - Looking into Thailand

Sunset in Huay Xai

The next morning we caught another bus to Luang Nam Tha. We arrived at the bus station promptly at eight and two and a half hours later after receiving five different estimates about when the bus might leave we were on the road - and what a road it was. What followed was 8 hrs (fitting nicely into the 5-10 hr. estimate we'd received for the trip) of bouncing, baking in the sun and breathing dust as the bus wound its way through the mountains on the pockmarked road heavily under construction to one day link Thailand and China. though it was not "comfortable" per se, the scenery was spectacular with dense jungle, flooded rice patties and bamboo villages all along the way. Looking out the bus window, I couldn't help but think back to all the Movies I'd seen about Vietnam and seeing the terrain in person gave me a new found respect for what the GIs went through in this part of the world.

We arrived that night and booked a trek leaving early the next morning to the Nam Ha wilderness area. the next morning we met our group - an Australian couple we'd met on the bus, a swiss guy, a Dane and another Canadian from Vancover. We set out in a sawngthaew with our two guides, Phon and Souk, and after two hours on back roads arrived at a small village. We had lunch in a village home of traditional sticky rice which you roll into balls in the hand and then dip in the various other side dishes of veggie and meat salads. I attempted to impress my new companions by joining Souk in eating whole chilies after he declared the meal wasn't spicy enough. After lunch we bid farewell to the villagers, they ferried us across the river and we set out through the jungle following dirt paths which wound along streams through the jungle and past abandoned villages and rice patties. The area's known for wild tigers and elephants, though besides the occasional delirious fantasy of them hiding in the dense jungle there was no contact.

That night we stayed in a village of about 100 people ( with at least as many pigs and chickens) on the Nam river and was only accessible by foot (or helicopter). We bathed in the river with the locals, watched the kids catch, skewer and skin about 80 frogs and watched the women make bamboo paper to sell at the local markets. The villagers and our guides made a delicious meal of duck and chicken soup, fried veggies and, of course, more sticky rice. The guides took the organs and skin of the fowl, chopped them finely and fried them with a generous dose of garlic ginger and chilies. They then mixed the stir fry in with the reserved duck blood to make "blood soup". Phon told us this "wasn't for tourists" and that it made you strong, so after a number of us insisted a bunch of us tried a spoonful. It was interesting to say the least.

Ban Nam Noi Village

That night we enjoyed our dinner in the small bamboo hut they'd made for trekers and also shared some local rice liquor with the town elder whose job it was to ensure our comfort. After dinner we shared a few beer Lao by a fire, looked at the stars chatting and telling stories of far off adventures both past and future, though sleep later proved difficult owing to the chorus of lucky frogs that had escaped the children's skewers.

The next morning we hiked out and caught the truck back after a traditional lunch of Laos salads called Lab. Once we returned, Debbie and I had picked up Jonas, a Dane studying economics in Hong Kong, as a new traveling companion since we were all headed in the same direction and treated ourselves to hour long Laos massages and an herbal sauna smelling deliciously of Ginger. Apparently the Sauna will cure malaria, improve vision and help with postnatal depression, but despite being quite relaxing, I can't really substantiate those claims. En route to the sauna, we ran into Suzie, a Chicagoan Jonas had met in Yangshou and all of a sudden our threesome was at 4.

The next morning, we headed to Nong Khiaw, stayed the night in Bamboo Huts and jumped on the day long boat ride down the Pak Ou river which spills into the Mekong. the boat pulled into Luang Probang that evening, a small city rich in Laos history and steeping with tourists. We've spent the last few days and nights relaxing, visiting the thriving night market for handicrafts and great street food and, of course, downing a Beer Laos now and then. Luang Probang is such a near perfect place. Though the streets are filled with tourists it's so relaxed and everyone's so friendly. The weather's nice, the locals are friendly and our group continues to grow as we meet fellow travelers from our various (and collective) pasts. Laos has been amazing, and though I'm looking forward to Vietnam I will be sad to leave my new friends and miss out on more adventures in Laos. I guess I'll just have to come back!