Hut & houses >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 04

Titbit from the Little Red Dot (a nickname bestowed by fond neighbours):
Today is Singapore's 40th birthday. This evening, we celebrate with a parade-cum-concert and fireworks at the City Hall on the Padang, the site of the 1st National Day Parade back in 1966. Now, back to the Golden Triangle.

The nitty gritty of daily living permeates our life on the road. For one thing, I do laundry more often than at home. And occasionally, there is the odd item or two of clothing to mend or shoes to wash. So, at the end of each day, a clean and comfy room is something we both hope to step into. We don't always get that, but looking for interesting lodging is part and parcel of our travel. Be it a three-storey concrete affair overlooking an old runway or a bamboo hut in a pleasant garden, memories are also made of these. Here is a short sketch of one particularly evocative place.

A house called Tammila

Raining. The thatched roof drips onto wooden planks, somehow bound together to make the floor.

Wet. The stone-laid path, glossy with rainwater, is smooth. So smooth that the next instance I am bum to soil, getting a hands-on experience with the primordial earth. My walking shoes cannot find purchase on the stones and I have to whine to my friend to pull me up. I have seen some locals walking barefoot in their own compound. I guess they are the sensible ones with hardened soles.

Baan Tammila. The guesthouse in Chiang Khong in northern Thailand is an eye-opener for me, born and bred to the concrete, glass and bright lights of the city. The electric bulbs are dim affairs, supplemented by candle light if necessary. There is so much more wood and greenery that the guesthouse looks like a jungle to me. Concrete and glass will look out of place here, though we have a concrete floor for our toilet, which has been added outside our hut.

Within. Our hut has a huge bed, over which we lower the filmy mosquito net when we sleep. If this were a Banyan Tree, the net would likely be an aesthetic touch. Here, it is a necessity, albeit a lovely one. There is a large window by the bed from which to admire the lush foliage without.

Evening. We look down from our balcony and see the sisters who run Tammila giving their dogs a run on the path below. Walkers admire the lovely view of the river, cyclists ride by merrily and fishermen bring in their fish traps near the river bank.

Morning mist. Still, it is possible to look across the Mekong from our balcony and see Huay Xai, where we plan to enter Laos. At the moment, though, we are in no hurry. After one hesitant night, I think I'm getting used to the sounds of noctural insects and their predilection for moving inside and outside our hut. Not that I have grown fond of slugs masquerading as leaves (the 'leaf' is moving across our toilet floor one night), or of beetles the size of my palm, or of worms that pretend to be rubber bands. Then there are the busy geckos. The most memorable one has to be that Laotian 12-inch giant pretending to be part of the wall decor outside a guesthouse in Luang Prabang.

But, it is really peaceful here. No moonlight sonata from the varied insect community can take that away. Although the many sounds are alien to these city ears, the beat of nature is a rhythm that grows hypnotic after a while. So, we are not packing up yet. Laos can wait another day.

Next:
On the road, finally

Luang Prabang fee? >> News about Laos

I'm taking a break from my Golden Triangle blog to post this bit of news I just read about Luang Prabang (LP). It seems that TPTB may introduce an entry fee to LP next year.

Check out the clipping at Travel Weekly:
Will Luang Prabang be first city to introduce visit fee?

Follow these links to find out more about this elegant and relaxed place:
>> Luang Prabang Province
>> LP: UNESCO World Heritage site
>> Cultural survival and revival in the Buddhist Sangha

Next...
I'll resume my Golden Triangle blog next week.

Waiting >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 03

Bad blogger
Blogging has taken a back seat this past week for me to move house and
fight flu. Now, on to the latest instalment of my post-trip snap shots. After this, I'll begin the regular journal entries.

Waiting.

He is waiting to marry his beloved. His bride-to-be lives in one country. He lives in another. He travels to visit her whenever he can, staying with her as long as possible. And when he can't stay on? Those other times, he stays in the country across the river from his beloved, separated by paper permits needed at border checkpoints. And occasionally, his beloved comes over to visit.

You see, he is not permitted to marry his beloved without a vital piece of paper. That piece of paper that says it is okay for a foreigner to love a son or daughter of the soil.

"I have paid money to have the papers done up and I'm still waiting. But, without money in the right pockets, you'll not even have a chance."

He will continue to wait, in the temporary home he has made across the river. And on the other bank of said river, his bride-to-be lives. Both are waiting, waiting for that piece of paper to sanction a new life together.

Waiting.

He is waiting for his infant son to grow up. To grow up to go to university, to walk a path he has never known because after one student protest against the authorities, there can be no more school for him. No more school for the likes of him, he who was then no older than a 15-year-old midway through his education.

Now, he works hard, commanding top dollar ferrying well-heeled tourists in his shiny, clean horsecart from one UNESCO-protected ruins to another. He lives here and knows everyone local. But unlike his more laid-back friends, he works hard not only driving his horsecart, but also honing his conversational skills.

Today, he learns a new phrase. Tomorrow, he practises that phrase on his tourist customer while providing value-added service in the form of a lively and informative narrative of each sight.

The hard work is paying off. His gleaming horsecart is a gift from a very happy customer. To honour the tourist's generosity, he displays his patron's country flag at the front of his cart. He can also afford two horses, so he now rents one to his cousin, for his cart to bring other well-heeled tourists to visit the ruins.

All the hard work is worth it, he says. Just so he has the money to send his son to university when the infant grows up.

???? Is travel a meeting of civilisation or a clash of culture?
How about these books to keep you entertained and thoughtful during one of those long, long, bus rides?
>> Terry Prachett's Interesting Times
>> Samuel Huntington's The Clash of Civilisations

Waiting.

She is not waiting, not anymore. For so long, she has just been waiting, waiting for her globetrotting husband to come back from yet another overseas assignment, while she tends to home and hearth. Twenty years, give and take a few, she reckons she has waited long enough.

"He owes her," says her friend. She smiles, but says nothing. She reserves all her zest and vocal excitement for sampling pungent Indian curries, admiring smiling Buddhas, and her next new experience.

Yet, she does not forget those at home. She carries two bottles of lao-lao whisky, bought during one of many excursions, for her husband and grown-up son, who are waiting for her to go home.

Waiting.

He is waiting to welcome the hungry horde. In the meantime, he is constructing that grand menu. For that day when the trickle of customers swells into a deluge heading for his restaurant.

On a very cool night in a one main-street town, we walk into his restaurant, which proclaims on a wide banner outside that it serves "authentic, imperial Chinese cuisine". We find him and his staff watching Pride And Prejudice, dubbed in Mandarin. No other customer walks in that night.

Why does he think there is more prospect here, as compared to Yunnan, where he is from?

"There are more and more Chinese, and Vietnamese too, doing business here. They'll want a good Chinese restaurant, where they can treat their business associates to classy dishes, not just simple homestyle food," confides the enthusiatic owner in lilting Mandarin.

Saying that, he whips out several photocopied sheets. It is the menu he hopes to get ready for his future customers. The menu is an extensive one, adorned by dishes with elegant Chinese names. The English translation, however, is less palatable.

He is happy if we can help him with the English names. Looking down the list, we can tell the menu will be an animal lover's nightmare. Is that armadillo and some kind of ant on the proposed menu? I don't even know we can eat these animals! It seems I am expanding my culinary knowledge in this modest establishment with lavish ambitions.

We do what we can with these fantastic dish names while finishing our simple dinner of homestyle tofu, pork strips with fried vegetables and Chinese cabbage soup. From such humble fare to high-end exotica? Mere wishful thinking?

Not so for this restauranteur. While he waits for customers with fat entertainment accounts to materialise, crafting a menu worthy of a top-class eatery is a step towards fulfilling his ambition.

Waiting.

They are waiting, silently, by the cool, pale dawn. Standing side by side, this couple, by the road. A mat is spread out in front of the woman. On it, two silver bowls, gleaming in the misty morning. Then, the woman kneels on the mat and lifts a bowl onto her lap. The man takes the other, standing. Both wait expectantly.

Now, round the bend, a splash of colour. In glides a column of brightly-robed monks. A few are children. Everyone holds, in both hands, an alms bowl, made of a dull, dark material. In single file, they walk, barefoot down the road.

The standing man scoops up a ball of rice from his bowl and places it in the alms bowl as each monk passes by. Next, the woman, on her knees and not looking at the monk, places her ball of rice into each alms bowl.

Quietly given, silently accepted. No contact, no word. A graceful and solemn ritual to greet a new day.

Next...
Huts & houses

Some where, some time >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 02

Sunset, sunrise. Sunset over the Mekong. Sunrise over the Irrawaddy.

Water, water everywhere. Cramped like sardines, with a barrel of flammable fluid at one end and a monk at the other. On a two-day trip down the Mekong, the swirling waters barely half a rule below our opened windows.

Cramped again, in a well-travelled bus sharing space with one mobile stall, two pots of hot food, sacks of rice doubling as foot rests and cheerful faces too many to count. At least we are not seating on the roof, with the bicycles.

Not cramped now, but taking a horse cart down a muddy track in the rain. Reaching the latest ruin to gaze through the slight mist at old stones resting in bucolic tranquility.

From cart to bus. Seating across an affable man, smartly-dressed in soldier's suit, and his missus, decked out in a vibrant three-piece. For the man, his belt spots a row of bullets and holster where a handgun nestles. For the woman, she carries a shiny handbag and wears gold jewellery that glitters. For the man, he has additional ammunition in the form of a rifle. He slides it under their seat.

A bus halts in the early hours of the morning. We stagger out of the vehicle, rubbing our hands in the frigid air. No street lights on the road, just an inky dome that is the night sky, lit by winking stars as far as the eye can see. Everyone, however, is more interested in a hot drink, perhaps with a bite to eat. No one looks at the stars. Except the squatting monk. And two city-slickers dazzled by the sparkling night sky.

Night again, now in town, the starlight dimmed somewhat (but still visible) by its neon competitor. In a local restaurant wolfing down a salad. Fresh, cold watercress, tangy lemon juice and creamy hard-boiled eggs are the stars in this feast for the tastebuds. At the next table, our Caucasian neighbours are eating fries and fried chicken.

Another meal, this time in a rickety shack overlooking the Mekong. Across, the atmospheric Pak Ou Caves with its miniscule landing surrounded by long-tailed boats, like devoted fans gathering around a star. Throughout our lunch, boats glide in and boats slide out, each with their load of camera-touting tourists. Lunch is simple, sweet and salty sticky rice from the morning market, fish flakes contributed by our Japanese friends and bananas from us. Talk flows, my fingers get used to the unfamiliar feel of kneading rice into small balls for bite-size consumption. Beautiful scenery, interesting companions, culinary sensation, this meal is over too quickly.

Up next...
How long will you wait for your loved one?

Land of elephants, pagodas 'n smiles >> Travel: Laos, Myanmar, Thailand 01

The intinerary, we give up trying to pound the vague yet stubborn one into something shapely. But, we have one bag each, two return tickets Singapore-Bangkok-Singapore, plus two Myanmar visas. Plenty to start with. After all, we do know we want to visit the three countries collectively known as the Golden Triangle. Indeed, these are countries of a many thousand golden splendours, of warm smiles, gilded pagodas and royal elephants.

This trip was made in Sep-Dec 2002.

Next up...
A little post-trip patter before I kick off the next set of journal entries, which should be lengthier than anything I've put up so far.

Four feet in Malacca >> Travel: Malaysia 2

(above left) Painting the town red has a different meaning in this part of Malacca. The buildings with their distinctive red cast date back to Dutch times. The red-and-white sidewalk barricades are very pretty, aren't they? Somewhere between the Stadthuys and A 'Famosa.

(above right) Food like this should be avoided. This bowl of laksa has one dominant taste - salty. Many such places, great for relaxing over a drink, sell lousy food. Some of the best food is in the small restaurants and coffee shops. Ever eaten crab cooked with milk and lethal mini-chillis? Great stuff at the corner coffeeshop diagonally opposite City Bayview Hotel. Roll up your sleeves, wash your hands and dig in!


(above left) Dial a snack: A local favourite, ideal for those who need a bit more spice in their itinerary. What's otak? Just mince some fish, mix it with spices and chilli. Spread the thick and moist mixture on banana leaves. Wrap the leaves and grill over fire (charcoal is optional nowadays). At the 'entrance' to the historical area (The Stadthuys, Christ Church, etc).

(above right) Give the man a beer: This place along the sluggish Malacca River is pleasant and shady, perfect to rest your feet, get out of the noon sun and cool down with an ice-cold drink. Give the food a miss, that's our advice. Sort of between the historical sights and Jonker Street (artist galleries, antiques, Peranakan museum, boutique hotels, pineapple tarts and chendol smothered by thick, smooth gula melaka are all here).

(right) Whither art thou, O Wise One? We couldn't find anyone to tell us how this place got its English name, Wisdom Drive. The Malay name says Garden Walk. Perhaps it was named after someone. Near A 'Famosa, even nearer to the Fortune Tree (see previous blog entry).

(left) I'm sure these colourful bins look familiar to some of you. Malaccans are also doing their part to save our planet. On one of the main roads towards Bukit Cina.

That's it for Malacca, folks!
Next... Sojourn in the Golden Triangle

Four feet in Malacca >> Travel: Malaysia 1

CL: But I can only spare a few days!
Annie: Somewhere near then.
CL: Make it nice place to walk around, with no large crowd and plenty of good food. Throw in some history and I'm game.
Annie: You're so demanding! Hmm, Peranakan with a dash of Portuguese, Dutch and English good enough?
CL: Oooh, let's pack.

Next thing I know, we were in a bus breezing across the Causeway from Singapore into Johore. A few hours later, we were in Malacca. We let our feet carried us and walked to the demands of our stomachs. Here's our take on Malacca from the pavement.

This trip took place in April 2002.

FYI: Another way to cross between Singapore and Malaysia by car or bus is via the Second Link.


(above left) Barking up the wrong tree? Fire-engine red grafitti on an aged tree wishes for fortune to sweep in. Near A 'Famosa, 16th century Portuguese fortress.

(above right) Round is in in Malacca. Many chicken rice stalls, like this one, sell rice balls. Each ball costs about RM0.20 and they are more moist, compared to chicken rice sold by the bowl. Next to the yellow chicken rice signboard is one advertising Dr Goh's western medical clinic. Flats across the road. Along a main road from the historical area towards Bukit Cina (Chinese Hill), which has the largest Chinese cemetery outside China, with tombs dating back to the Ming dynasty.


(above left) Memory cast in stone: This is one of several memorial stones resting in St Paul's Church. First built by the Portuguese, then used by the Dutch as a burial place for nobles. Go early in the morning to avoid the heat and the crowd on packaged tours. Wander around and meet some of the artists drawing and selling their works. Pause at some of the tombstones on the graves dotting the hill and you'll find that some had entire families buried together (but not at the same time), including young children. St Paul's Hill.

(above right) They line the road like sentinels, reminding recalcitrant car owners to pay for parking. This one has a nice backdrop - a shop selling colourful but fake flowers. Somewhere in what we call the Chinese part of town, near Bukit Cina.

(left) I think "enduring beauty" is an apt description of this relaxed, pleasant town. We decided not to visit any museum, so no, we didn't go in. If you visit and want to share the highlights, drop me a note! Near the Stadthuys, where the Dutch governors used to lived, way back in the 17th and 18th centuries.


More pics in next blog...

Scene & seen >> Travel: Isan, Northeast Thailand 12

Next...
Malacca from the pavement

Sweet departure >> Travel: Isan, Northeast Thailand 11

Day 9: Night, Singapore

Home. 'Nuf said. Heh. I can always travel again. No need to get all depressed just because I'm back home and I've to work tomorrow, right? So, I am going to end this trip on a sweet note.

My next trip to Bangkok, I'm heading for the stand selling Georgia Blizzard and other goodies in the airport. It's on the same floor as other comfort foods, such as Burger King and Black Canyon coffee. Rich, creamy, ice-cream churned with different toppings, all for B35. Yum, yum, yummy!

Next... yes, we're not leaving Thailand yet:
Stuff we saw on the road and immortalised on film

One-mile radius >> Travel: Isan, Northeast Thailand 10

Day 8: Night, Bangkok

Too wiped to notice time. Again. Of course we shopped! But we didn't wander too far from our guesthouse. That's the great thing about staying just behind Siam Square. Walk out of your guest house, down the narrow street filled with other guesthouses, hotels and street vendors, and you're right in the thick of it all, whether you prefer high-brow Pradas or mass-produced offerings.

Was simply too tired to write much last night. Chatuchak was an amazing maze. Oops, amazing maze? Guess I'm still very, very tired. Don't feel my feet much. Now, is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Anyway, we were both hot and sweaty by the time we left the Weekend Market yesterday afternoon. We didn't buy much -- just four pairs of shoes and five locally-made bags. Not all the fruits of our labour are ours. Some are to be presents for friends at home.

Chatuchak hasn't been an entirely happy experience for us. There was a very sad spectacle in the pets section. Woeful-looking dogs and cats in open boxes waiting to be sold. Every time one managed to struggle out of a box, it would be scooped up and put back to join its equally mournful brethern. Depressing sight.

Budget (for two in Baht)
Lunch >> B450
BTS >> B20
Shopping at Watson's (more sundries) >> B155
Donuts + sticky rice + H20 >> B121
Food (ta pau or takeaway) >> B490
Shopping: shorts (6 pairs) >> B400
Shopping: accessories >> B40
Shopping: shoes (4 pairs) >> B663
Dinner >> B105
Mango + cake >> B55
BTS >> B30

And then...
Goodbye is such a difficult word to say...

In Chatuchak >> Travel: Isan, Northeast Thailand 9

Day 7: Night, Bangkok

Chatuchak. Stalls. Browsing. Shopping. More shops. Oh yes, window shopping. More Shopping. Need to prop up my aching feet. Let me sleep now.

Addendum (added, eh, some time after):
Chatuchak weekend market is the undisputed king of Bangkok's markets. No market is as famous in Thailand. According to one brochure we picked up, the 35-acre market has at least 15,000 shops and stalls, and more than 200,000 visitors a day. What can you buy there? Just about everything, it seems, including household items, art, handicraft, shoes, books, plants, even animals.

How to find your way around? Don't even try. Just walk where your feet fancy and gawk at the wares on sale. And spend your baht. If it's any comfort to those who prefer things a little more organised, Chatuchak is actually divided into areas according to the types of goods on sale. And you can even collect a free map in the tourist offices saying thus.

Remaining cool is the key to a successful foray in the sprawl that is Chatuchak. Take your time to wander around. If you feel that you need a break, get a drink and stay in the shade. It can be hot and humid during the day; so go early, when the day is cooler. Chatuchak might not be a comfortable shopping experience, but it will definitely be an interesting one. And you will end up carrying away a souvenir to remind you of your excursion.

Budget (for two in Baht)
BTS to Chatuchak >> B60
Shopping: bags (5 pieces) >> B500
Shopping: shoes (4 pairs) >> B639
Lunch >> B146
Fruits (strawberries, rambutan) >> B20
BTS >> B60
BTS >> B40
Dinner >> B398
Ice-cream >> B14
Shopping: lipsticks >> B179
BTS >> B20

Useful links - Sky Train - Metro - Bus

Next blog...
Shopaholics take a break. Sort of...

Shopping & eating in Bangkok >> Travel: Isan, Northeast Thailand 8

Day 6: Night, 12.15am, Bangkok

Shopping was a lot more tiring than ruins roaming. Somehow, the flat concrete pavement with the occasional pothole and dirty puddle thrown in, proved more trying on our tender soles than rocky or muddy ground. Our abused heels needed breaks between floors of shops. And they say shopping is a Singaporean pastime!

Am very sleepy now, and it's past midnight. We ate so much today. It's no point eating in the food courts. The food wasn't that great or cheap. Or we might have just chosen an inferior selection. Anyway, add a few dollars to your food expenses and you can enjoy much better morsels in more congenial restaurants. We will brave Chatuchak tomorrow. But, first, I must get my beauty sleep!

We heard the first Thais (teenagers) speaking English among themselves. That mustn't have been a regular sight because Bangkokians continue to look at us when they hear us. Maybe they can't place our brand of English? Likewise, they eye those flashy teens.

Also, the Bangkok security guards are talented multi-taskers. Besides guard duties, they open doors for you, carry bags over the BTS (skytrain) turntiles for you, give directions, and help to collect money at the cashier's. At one Watson's, the security guard helped Annie search for the lipstick she wanted to buy. He found it before we did!

Less admirable is the behaviour of passengers in the skytrain. What we see in Singapore, we see here too. People rush in before you step out; they also lean against the pole and deprive others of a hand hold while the train is in motion.

Budget (for two in Baht)
Breakfast >> B137
BTS to Asia Hotel >> B30
Tips >> B20
BTS to WTC >> B30
Lunch: Genki Sushi >> B284
Tea >> B90
Shopping: Isetan (toiletries) >> B264
Dinner: Coca Steamboat >> B380
Fruits >> B20
Coffee >> B67
Shopping: Watson's (sundries) >> B235

Up next...
A different kind of shopping...

Transport capers >> Travel: Isan, Northeast Thailand 7

Day 5: Night, 10.25 pm, Bangkok (humid!)

A bespectacled Chinese woman selling pau (steamed buns with fillings) along the street of our hotel in Khorat spoke to me in Teochew, a Chinese dialect. She said she had relatives (surname Wong) in Singapore. We bought two piping hot paus filled with minced pork and bamboo shoots for breakfast. They tasted different from those back home -- rather sweeter with different ingredients (the bamboo shoots for instance). Annie didn't like the taste; I thought it was OK.

When we got to the station, we went to the ticket counter to find out the platform our train would be arriving at. The friendly official manning the ticket counter told us to go to Platform 2. As we were walking towards said platform, a train began pulling away from that very platform. Being inexplicably nervy that day, we immediately thought we had missed our train! Good thing we didn't just dash madly up the train because it left in the opposite direction (away from Bangkok, our destination). Actually, our train finally appeared on Platform 3 -- much later. One of the train officers helpfully checked our tickets to confirm we were boarding the right train before he waved us on board.

People stared when they heard us speak English. Those in front turned back to look. Everyone, both locals and foreigners, thought we were Thai and most of the local people spoke to us in Thai before they realised (with a little startled amusement) that we were foreigners who could not speak their language. On our part, we took more note of locals speaking Thai in our vicinity after we realised that we had probably walked past people addressing a friendly word or two to us without acknowledging their goodwill.

Strange, we didn't have this problem on previous trips. Very few people assumed we were locals then. On this trip, only one Chinese man from Phimai guessed we were from Singapore, once he realised we couldn't speak Thai.

When we reached Hualampong, we decided to splurge on a taxi ride to our guesthouse. As usual, we had trouble with the taxi driver. First, he didn't switch on the meter until I reminded him. Rather absentminded, wasn't he? Then, after stopping at the first traffic light, he didn't move his cab; he bent down in his seat and seemed to be searching for something. As the meter ticked away, I told him to get moving. After all, we were the only car left at the green light.

At this stage, we were going to hop off if he tried anything else. He didn't and we reached Soi Kasemsan 1, a lane with budget accommodation just behind Siam Square. When we paid, our cabbie claimed he had no change. Instead of telling him to keep the change, we took the note back and paid him the exact amount -- to reward him for his antics on the way. Such a chore taking a tuk-tuk or taxi; overcharging seems to be de rigeur among these drivers everywhere.

Being budget-conscious, we did a little comparision:
(1) A plate of rice or a bowl of noodles costs B20-25 in the Northeast and B35-50 in the air-con foodcourts in Bangkok.
(2) A cup of coffee costs B25 at Swensen's in Khorat while it costs B30 for something similar in Bangkok.
(3) Generally, portions for food seems rather small. Or maybe I should sup like some Thais. Eat less each time, but eat more often? Is that the secret to so many beautifully-proportioned locals we see on the road?

Budget (for two in Baht)
Chinese pau >> B11
Coffee & toast >> B50
Taxi from Hualampong to White Lodge >> B45
Room at White Lodge >> B400
Dinner >> B174
Shopping: sundries >> B124

Next blog...
Day 6: Highrise shopping, multi-tasking guards and more in bustling Bangkok

Baw Kaw Saw to Phimai >> Travel: Isan, Northeast Thailand 6

Day 4: Night, 7.30 pm, Khorat (hot and sweaty!)

This morning started off great -- the bus to Phimai left only 10 minutes after its scheduled departure time. The flexible-as-unbaked dough that is the local bus schedule seemed less so today. Not that we have anywhere to rush off to, but it is occasionally nice to have a bus leave on time.

Then, as usual, our bus stopped at many places to pick up people. This time, we were joined by many students. They alighted at a vocational school (of technology) some 40 minutes' ride away. The scenery enroute was very pleasant. We were taken on a tour of a few villages: ceiling-high haystacks and giant earthern jars (couldn't see the contents inside) were common sights at these villages.

At Phimai, we saw a Japanese woman sketching in the shade, pencilling the main sanctuary of Prasat Phimai. We spoke to her later and she told us she had been to PNG (Papua New Guinea). She and her friends were touring other ruins in the Northeast as well, having chartered a van for the trip.

We had to wait about an hour for the bus back to Khorat. School was out by then and people were going home from work. Ugh! The bus was so crowded that we took a chance and hopped off before the terminus. We managed to find our way back to our hotel, cleaned up and went off to dinner at a pizza place run by a retired American military man named Sten.

His wife, Noi, was the busy and practical one -- she took orders and ran the kitchen and counter. He went around greeting and talking to customers. Sten gave us his card and said to call him if we ran into trouble. His wife said he had too much beer and should go sleep!

Khorat seems to be the home of many Chinese, their presence evident in the Chinese temples, in shops run by Chinese and in the sale of Chinese funerary items. People here also appear to be more fond of dogs than cats. We see many dogs kept as pets and some families have more than one. Luckily, the dogs (including the street ones) didn't bother us, but a mildly worrying sign in Phimai (outside the museum) warned anyone to go to the hospital immediately if bitten by dogs.

Budget (for two in Baht)
Tuk Tuk from hotel to bus station >> B30
Bus from Khorat to Phimai >> B40
Entry to Phimai ruins >> B80
Lunch >> B115
Entry to Phimau museum >> B60
Bus from Phimai to Khorat >> B52
(Yes, the bus ride back costs more!)
Bottled H20 >> B11
Dinner >> B250

Up next... Back to the city of angels

Cuppa in Khorat >> Travel: Isan, Northeast Thailand 5

Day 3: Night, Khorat

Just walked back from dinner. We had Swensen's ice-cream and coffee for dessert -- my first cuppa in three days.

Khorat is a busier and much bigger town than Buriram. Earlier in the day, we spent a couple of hours walking around, checking out the bustling afternoon market and the surrounding streets. We spotted a number of bookstores, all selling Thai comics and fiction. Harry Potter is available in Thai.

As in Buriram, everything here is also written in Thai, including the laminated fastfood menus. Luckily, they also have an alternative -- card menus in Thai and English. More people speak English here, compared to Buriram.

Service has been great so far and the counter staff speak English with varying fluency. How's this for service? At KFC in Klang Plaza 2, the waiters asked us twice if we wanted ice water (we didn't want); the supervisor also asked when she walked by and saw us without. At Swensen's, the waitress came by to ask if we wanted another coffee (they had free refills).

Train tickets in the better classes are relatively expensive, compared to what we've spent on rooms so far. We bought, in advance, two second-class air-con seats to Bangkok and they cost almost double the room we're staying in. Our room has air-con and ensuite bathroom.

We'll be going to Phimai tomorrow. Siri (our hotel) has a minibus there for a very steep B800 per person. Guess we'll be taking public transport again. Looks like yesterday's cold was a fluke. It's hot today, without any early morning chill.

Budget (for two in Baht)
Breakfast >> B40; Train to Khorat >> B120; Train to Bangkok >> B450
Tuk Tuk to Siri Hotel >> B30; Room >> B250; Lunch >> B60
Shopping: sundries >> B363; H20, ice-cream + pastries >> B82
Dinner >> B140; Dessert >> B95

Coming up...
Skyscraper haystacks and gargantuan jars enroute to Phimai

Past and present juxtaposed >> Travel: Isan, Northeast Thailand 4

Day 2: Night, Buriram

Today started early for us (at 5am, still dark). Our train reached Buriram some time after four in the morning. Sleepless, I was gazing at passing scenery in various shades of black (dark, darker, darkest) and admiring opaque shapes (trees, distant hill, telephone pole?), when our train whistled to a stop at a well-lit station. An oblong, lighted sign with red and blue lettering told us we had reached our destination: the town of Buriram.

Some friendly train staff helpfully ushered us out of the train. Blurry-eyed, we stumbled onto the platform of a small and quiet station, a planet away from the brash, bright lights of bustling Hualampong. Since it was too dark to wander about in an unfamiliar place, we sat for two hours in the chilly station, waiting for sunrise. Very cold, especially when the wind blew through the open doorway and windows. Brrr! Frigid difference from the balmy Bangkok of last evening.

The overnight journey was very uncomfortable. I couldn't doze off for more than 15 mins or so each time. My body felt permanently contorted, trying to 'pretzel' itself into a more sleep-friendly position, but that proved a futile effort. In the next seat, Annie looked equally restless. I've come to the conclusion that there isn't such a thing as a comfortable position when trying to sleep on a reclining chair.

Buriram is a small, rather sleepy, town. We couldn't find any interesting accommodation, so we settled for a cheap and simple room, hoping to catch a nap before a late breakfast. At first glance, our room looked clean, but we soon found two dead roaches, and a live one trying to crawl up from a hole in the toilet! Ugh! Next, mosquito alert! So, we had to apply repellent and burn mosquito coil (We like Baygon. We've tried those with citrus added during another trip, but I really can't smell the difference once the coil is burning.).

After all this excitement, we couldn't possibly sleep so we decided to visit Phanom Rung, arguably the most impressive of the Khmer ruins in Thailand.

Trek to Imperial Khmer

Back after a tiring day, with most of the time spent trying to get to Phanom Rung and back to Buriram. But what a day!

Buriram bus station was on the edge of town. We didn't hear anyone speak English while we were there. Looking around, we saw little English on the signboards and at the ticket counters. Luckily, some people understood our sterling pronounciation of Phanom Rung and directed us to bus 552, whose sign at the front of the vehicle stated it was going to Chantaburi. Anyway, everyone waved us on board when we announced our intended destination. That high in communication emboldened us to venture forth to further lingistic challenges. We tried to ask if we should buy tickets before boarding and how much they cost.
No one understood.

So we simply followed everyone up the bus and waited for the conductor to find us. We reckoned there had to be a conductor since no one seemed to be buying tickets for this bus. We waited. The driver got in, then got out again. Not enough passengers. Since it looked as if we wouldn't be moving anytime soon, we ate our breakfast of biscuits and bottled water. After dusting off the crumbs, we waited. Finally, the driver decided he had met his quota and off we went.

Once again, our pristine pronounciation of Phanom Rung came to our rescue. Or rather, I think the conductor knew that foreigners had to be heading for the ruins. Where else, right? We forked out B35 each for a bracing ride through harvested farm land, villages and small towns. Brr! Especially chilly whenever the driver imagined he was racing in Formula One.

Accompanying us on this part of our Isan (the local name for the area) journey was a constant stream of goods and human traffic, flowing up and down our bus as we bumped, stopped, bumped, stopped, along the way. Our conductor remembered our destination -- a little difficult to forget when we were the only foreigners on board and the only ones he tried and failed to strike a conversation with. Our vocabulary comprised a grand total of five highly relevant words, which we had exhausted right after we bought our tickets. ("Phanom Rung?" Then, make 'V' sign to indicate two tickets. Then, "Kop Koon Kah!")

At a T-junction, our conductor gestured for us to alight. On our way out, we stepped over sacks of rice (I think) carpeting the entire length of the aisle. Touching asphalt at Ban (means village, I think) Ta Ko, we were promptly told by villagers that there was no songthaew (loosely translated: lorry bus) to Phanom Rung. A couple of villagers rode up in motorbikes and helpfully revealed that the last 8km had to be done on a motorbike. They offered to chauffer us there and back for B100 each.

We decided to check with those who had no vested interest in taking money off us. They also said the bus service had stopped. So, we walked, walked, walked! We had trudged a couple of kilometres with little shade when our trek turned uphill.

Just then, an old man on a motorbike rode past. A few metres on, he stopped, looked back and beckoned us forward. Pointing at his bike, the kind man offered both of us a ride up the hill. He wouldn't take "no" when we looked with round eyes at his tiny bike and shook our heads.

A 6km, winding walk uphill under the rising sun or a balancing act on a small, moving motorbike?

As we 'spiralled' up to Phanom Rung, Annie was hanging on for dear life. Certainly, her grip felt like it. And then I forgot all about her cutting off my circulation from waist down as she stepped down on one of my ankles. The old man was very careful with his human cargo and he was going at a sedate pace, but we were squashed behind him (must lose weight) and Annie had to step one of her feet on mine or leave it behind! That seemed a long, long, ride, but we reached the top safely, probably some 10 minutes later. I simply didn't have time or hands to check my watch while perched precariously on a miniscule motorbike ridden by one spry local and two extremely uncoordinated foreigners!

Phanom Rung was beautiful, especially the approach. So, I can still appreciate the scenery in my high-strung state... Flanked by stone nagas (mythological multi-headed snakes) on either side of the broadwalk, this was the equivalent of a red carpet laid out to draw the awed visitor huffing and puffing up the series of stairs to the main attraction -- the palace complex. We had a great time ambling among the ancient stones. The setting was serene and the view was pleasant.

Once out of the compound, however, reality intruded. We had to go back to the village below to catch the bus back to Buriram. No luck hitchhiking as materialistic young men tried to offer their motorbike for a ride down at B100 each (remember, it was B100 up and down from the village)! Naturally, we declined and started walking. Luckily, a car soon stopped by the road for us and we piled in the back seat, where a middle-aged man with tanned and leathery skin sat. The driver, a young man, and his friend, an equally young man, sat in front. Yes, yes, I know it's stupid and potentially dangerous to accept the ride. And yes, hitchhiking can be dangerous, especially for lone females and when there are more than one occupants in the vehicle already. But, we did it anyway.

Turned out the driver's friend had worked in Singapore a number of times as a construction worker and he spoke more English than either of his friends. He told us the silent one beside us was "the policeman" and we should feel safe! He also revealed that his driver companion was a dentist (showed us a set of dentures). Generously, he offered to drop us off in Buriram since they were going to pass that way. After a while, Dentist and Construction Guy realised they were not going to pass by Buriram after all and so suggested dropping us off at Nang Rong, a nearby town, to catch a bus to Buriram.

But at Nang Rong, they found out to their embarrassment that there was no Buriram bus. We couldn't get a songthaew or taxi either, because there was none. In the end, they decided to go pump some petrol into their vehicle first. At the station, Contruction Guy bought snacks and drinks and offered us food, but we didn't want to impose anymore. He insisted so we took some lemon Chiclets. They finally dropped us off in Buriram, after spending some more time looking for the train station. Deciding to be prudent after all, we told them we wanted to buy tickets for our next train journey, instead of telling them where we were staying. We were duly grateful and the guys rode off. I think they looked rather relieved when we waved goodbye to them.

Am very sleepy now, because we had slept little for two days. Maybe we can blame our sleepless state for riding double pillion and hitchhiking from one town to another. Unheard of, am not the throw-caution-to-the-wind type normally. Must be that lack of sleep. Definitely...

Budget (for two in Baht)
Room >> B220
Biscuits >> B10
Bus from Buriram to Ban Ta Ko >> B70
Lunch >> B60
Entry to Phanom Rung >> B80
Bottled H20 >> B5
Dinner >> B102

Links: Tourism Authority of Thailand - Airports - Trains

Up next...
Harry Potter sighting? And gracious service...

Hualampong and back >> Travel: Isan, Northeast Thailand 3

Day 1: Night, Bangkok's Hualampong Station (Oh, for a little breeze!)

The air is so still. Am waiting for the train to Buriram in Northeast Thailand. Glad to have that nice, cold shower (10B) in the station's public loo. Hualampong has been 'upgraded' since our last visit -- more expensive eating places, nicer counters, etc. KFC is round one corner; just follow the smell of fried oil.

It was rather easy to buy train tickets from the small airport station at Don Muang. We even managed to get advance tickets to Buriram without going to Hualampong, the main station, first. The staff spoke English, a great relief for us! During our previous visit several years ago, we had to walk around the tiny station looking for someone who could speak English because all the staff at the counters spoke Thai. It took a while to find our helpful English translator (a calm, bespectacled lady in a three-piece suit) because Don Muang station, although opposite the international airport, wasn't a busy station.

Tickets bought for the night train, we took the next train bound for Hualampong. That was late by half an hour, but at 5B per person, difficult to complain! Defintely the budget choice. There was plenty of time to kill, so we decided to check out Khaosan, the backpackers' haunt. Of course, the budget way to get there was by public bus. For a few baht, we were treated to a hot and dusty mobile sauna as our vehicle rolled into smoky Chinatown to join the long jam (at one in the afternoon) across town.

Along the way, we passed the Grand Palace, Wat Po and the National Museum. Lots of public buses to these places with many students and monks on board. Took us an hour to get to the farangs' (foreigners) ghetto. Very interesting place. So many backpackers throng the area that the eating places and the more popular guesthouses are going upmarket.

Nice park off Banglampu -- two guys were swimming in the Chao Phraya! One jumped in, a couple of benches from us. The other had been swimming long laps further out, like he was practicing for a marathon.

We almost got lost coming back to Hualampong. Had to alight from the bus in the dark, with the train station nowhere in sight. So we did the usual -- asked a lot and smiled even more -- using sign language, keeping a smiling mien and, very important, pronouncing the name of our destination as clearly as we could. After a long walk, we found our way back to the station and that nice, cold bath.

Feeling a little sleepy now, but may not be able to sleep tonight. We've air-con seats to Buriram, but I've never slept well when travelling at night, unless in a train with sleeping berths. Still, not something to lose my sleep over, lah! I can easily catch my 40 winks later.

Budget (for two in Baht)
Train to Buriram (air-con seats) >> B530
Train to Hualampong station >> B10
Bus from Hualampong to Khaosan >> B7
Lunch >> B110
Shopping: greeting cards >> B100
Bottled H20 >> B13
Insect repellent >> B50
Bus to Hualampong >> B7
Toilet in train station >> B4
Dinner >> B60
Shower in train station >> B20

Some useful LINKS:
Trains - Bangkok Metro - Bus routes in Bangkok

Big blog coming up...
As I go sleepless in Isan and motorbiking pillion+pillion up majestic Phanom Rung

On the move at last! >> Travel: Isan, Northeast Thailand 2

Day 0: Late afternoon, Singapore

Packing to go on a trip and packing to move house at the same time is no fun. Very, very messy. Feeling even more disorganised than usual! Also very sleepy, but must not take a snooze. Am afraid will not be able to sleep early tonight if I nap now. Have to leave at 6am tomorrow. Can't remember when I last wake up while the sky is still dark!

Feeling rather tired; don't think this trip will be very relaxing. From the train station opposite the airport, we hope to get tickets out of Bangkok. Don't want to be stranded in Bangkok tomorrow, or we'll have to waste time looking for accommodation just for one night. Oh well, no point fretting in advance. Better to continue packing.

Next morning, Singapore (coffee break in Changi Airport's Burger King)

Alamak! Set the alarm of my trusty clock wrongly and, as a result, woke up one hour LATER than I was supposed to. Had washed and dressed in controlled panic before dashing off to take a cab. Now I've $10 less to spend in Thailand!

The airport is very crowded -- loads of people leaving with huge cases. Had to dodge bags and bodies before diving downstairs to the bus bay to meet my friend and travelling pal, Annie. I made it! Annie hasn't stormed off; the plane is still on the tarmac. So now, I can seat back and inhale my caffeine. Ah, I think I'm going to enjoy this trip after all. (Trip completed: Feb 2001)

Budget (in Singapore Dollars)
Taxi from home to Changi Airport >> S$13
Breakfast at Burger King >> S$ 6

Some useful LINKS:
Tourism Authority of Thailand - Airports

Tomorrow...
Day 1: Five-baht train-ride, mobile sauna, hmmm... But, training for the Olympics in the Chao Praya?

Of Pradas & Nagas >> Travel: Isan, Northeast Thailand 1

Sprawling Khmer ruins and rambling Chatuchak bracket our Thai junket like a pair of eye-catching bookends. And in between? Oh, a few thrills and spills here and there...

Up next...
The morning after the night before...

Akan Datang!

Please come back in a few days!

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