And home

My last day started with souvenir shopping. There's a lot of cool things here, all of which completely useless. So in the end, I couldn't find anything that someone back home would actually want, and left the country without. Sorry, guys.

I did, though, accidentally find a taro "danish" at the supermarket on the ground floor of MBK, which was essentially identical to the only delicious taro thing I've ever had (from 裕珍馨). Must remember this if I ever go back.

I tried walking around the city randomly, and doing so found a version of Kmart, but nothing that interesting. So I took a tuktuk to Chinatown again, if only to hoard up on snacks for my trip back.

I did see the most unusual food stand of my trip there in Chinatown: an insect stand. Big insects, little insects, insects for every taste (except, I'm guessing, yours or mine). You'll probably want to zoom in on this photo.

I also had fresh-squeezed pomegranate juice. It was delicious, which makes me wonder why it always tastes so bad when bought at the store here (except Pom, which mixes it with other stuff.)

In the evening I watched a Muay Thai boxing match. I've never watched boxing, so I can't compare. But most of the time was spent standing and staring, with an occasional sudden kick or punch, and then more staring. I always imagined boxing more like a regular fight, furious and non-stop. It must have been painful, all those kicks to the head and such, though the contestants didn't show it. What did show was exhaustion, which may have been partly from pain. After a few rounds, they definitely had trouble continuing. I imagine the next day these people were purple with bruises, and i can't imagine that it's worth it.

And finally, the long flight home, to a New York City blanketed in snow. My cell still announces that in Bangkok it's 89 degrees. Nevertheless, the timing is right. I've had enough of traveling for now. I have had my fill of Thai food. I am ready to be back home in the exciting city, which for me is in any case like living in a tourist attraction.

As I traveled, I was plagued at times with the sheer self-indulgence of it all. I was accomplishing nothing with my life, living purely for the sensory stimulation. There is something deeply shallow in that. Then again, I imagine that for many people, this is the only level at which their lives are lived.

Just to prove that I did in fact go whitewater rafting, I now have access to pictures to share.

Oh, and a belated Tu B'Shvat everybody!

Bangkok's Underbelly

On my way back to Bangkok, I finished the book Three Cups of Tea. I think my key point of uncertainty was why education is so important. Is life so miserable when you're illiterate? Knowing physics may add to my understanding of life and to my income, but has it made me a better or happier person? The link to terrorism was especially tenuous -- suicide bombers are disproportionate educated middle-class Muslims. And while I appreciate showing that moderate Islam exists, I don't know that it was given a fair shake: moderate Islam may not promote violent jihad, but doesn't it promote the execution of people who convert and the subservience of women to their husbands? I appreciated the book, but it was largely a long advertisement for the Central Asia Institute, which I imagine is a good thing.

At the Bangkok Culture and Arts Center, there wasn't a lot, but I enjoyed this subway map. Bangkok doesn't have a subway, but on the upper left hand side of this map it says "ITINC: If There Was No Corruption."

After more delicious food, I saw Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs in 3D. When it came out, no one was interested in seeing this kids' movie. Even though it's in 3D, which is the most amazing thing ever (except, of course, deep fried Oreos). I loved it. Yes, it was a dumb cartoon. But it was the most 3D movie I've ever seen, taking full advantage of the entire range of depth. And I laughed out loud many times. So, big thumbs up if you see it with glasses.

My last night in Bangkok I decided to check out what the city is most famous for: its red light districts. Except for a hawker on my first night here, I've seen no signs of sex tourism at all. The place has been squeeky clean. But a female friend who came to Bangkok told me she checked out the red light district, and another said she went to see a ping-pong show (which is just too gross!), and a third talked about it, to my shock, matter-of-factly as "something to do if you're into that sort of thing." So, I started to feel like I didn't see Bangkok if I didn't at least see what it was. It took until my last day, but I finally persuaded myself to at least take a look.

I went to Patpong, the most famous red light district, although newer and, according to Lonely Planet, "better" ones were elsewhere. The place was hopping. Whenever I've stumbled into a red light district in the US, it's been a seedy, dirty area with nothing going on. In London, it was squeeky clean and like any nice neighborhood, but just happened to be all sex shops. In Amsterdam, it was also clean and nice, along one of the canals, but no much was going on except that it was creepy to see women in bikini underwear sitting in window displays like (very bored) live mannequins. This was different. There was a night market all along the street. There was no clear distinction between sex bars and regular bars, some of which just had live music (and were quite good). It was just a lively scene late into the night, with lots of lights.

It was also gross. You couldn't walk twenty feet without some guy coming up to you and trying to get you to come into his X-rated bar. They were all aggressive, would all put their hands on my arms and follow me for blocks even though I said "No" twenty times. "Massage? Sex show? Ping-pong? Everything? Boom-boom?" Ugh. I found the whole things so repulsive, the very offer to enter one of these places seemed like such an insult -- what kind of pervert do these people think I am? Of course, I was in the red light district, so I suppose they could safely assume I was a pervert. Just walking by these places with open doors, I could see glimpses of a bunch of women onstage in bikinis. I don't know why all these female friends of mine weren't so repulsed. Maybe it's different for a woman. Or maybe it's me. (In the video, you can't really hear what's going on, but you may catch me saying "No no no no" repeatedly.

This place, it turns out, is actually an unfortunately located kennel for house cats.

I've never been anywhere like this. My only knowledge of stripper bars is from movies. But I'd heard so many stories of perversions going on here -- middle aged men with 12-year-old girls and such, that I had to see if it was really true. After all, if I can overcome my inhibitions to climb cliffs or dive in the ocean, I should be able to tolerate this. So I finally went it one place. I have to confess I didn't last a minute. women standing around on a stage without tops and apparently about to open bottles, er, without their hands. I didn't not want to see that. I'd seen enough, and had to get out.

Seriously, I don't see the allure of these places. Is there anything erotic about this? It seemed really gross, like for someone who would get off peeping into a gynecologist's office. It just seemed sick. You can tell that I am either a decent person or a puritanical prude, depending on your personal level of depravity.

So, at least I saw Bangkok's other side. There were places to eat and normal bars with good performers, so it wasn't all bad, plus a night market with food and stuff for sale. I saw no underage women. I wonder if I should assume that any women in the area were prostitutes (or would women actually come to such a place?), and that any men in the area were perverts (the occasional intrepid explorer like myself excluded). But one backpacker (remember Johno with the dreadlock pen?) who visited Pattaya, a beach town on the coast that Bangkok people go to (and which my Thai flying companion called "Sin City"), said he saw some extreme stuff that I didn't see here, so it could have been much worse.

Alright, so I've done Thailand! Next day, back to America. I hope you kept the place nice and cool for me.

For Lost fans, Apollo bars really exist.

And Kona may enjoy these cookies.

Last leg miscellany

Back in Bangkok with one day more. Last chance to ask for anything you want brought back. Not a lot to say about the long trip here, except for expensive snafus when taking the wrong night ferry, and a long bus in which I entertained my Thai seatmates with magic tricks.

You know, I didn't have to go through Thailand backpacker-style. I'm sure some people would read about sleeping on the floor of a boat crammed with other people and think, how dreadful. But for me, it's a far more exciting way to travel: raw and real, both feet in the adventure of it all.

You may also wonder about traveling alone. I often find myself thinking, this would be more fun with someone else to share in the adventure. Not always: sometimes being alone in the grandeur of the ruined khmer stupa, or in the thick of the crowded alleyways of Bangkok's Chinatown, another person would just separate you from the full experience of being in the moment. Other times, though, the feeling that sharing the experience would enrich it is easily a misleading one. Reality doesn't always live up to possibility. I know from experience the friction that comes from traveling companions. Often, people cannot keep up with me, and complain that they're tired or don't feel like doing anything, while for me, and entire world awaits for me to conquer until my feel are in such pain that each step is gloriously excruciating. My sister in particular (I won't say which one) is happy traveling somewhere and then spending the entire day in the hotel room, which drives me crazy. I'm sure no one would agree to camp out with me at a shopping mall food court.. I don't know what your experiences are traveling alone or with others, but on such a fun trip as this one, it's hard for me to conclude that I made a mistake going it solo.

Did I mention geckos? You can often see them running around this country. Not as cute as mice, but they do make me consider saving on auto insurance.

Also, did mention there are tons of Israelis here? So many signs in Hebrew all over Thailand (I've seen nothing like it in any other language but English). Must be a top tourist destination for the tribe.

Beneath the waves

Koh Tao has grown on me a bit. While the beach may fail to entice during the day, at night it has a very pleasant vibe. All along the beach, fire throwers performed in a semicircle of torches, while people sat in the cool beach air and watched. I caught a showing of The Hangover, which was funny in parts. Not exactly the Thai experience, but nice. And, for the record, despite what I said about women backpackers before, here on Koh Tao is another matter entirely.

I'm living in a resort here, with the swimming pools and fountains and lush gardens of palms and tropical flowers among the bungalows and balconied rooms you'd expect at one. Touristy but certainly pleasant.

The island itself, which I'd called just sand and sea, has some pretty views, actually, when seen from offshore. The beach may be boring, but the rock formations are rather fetching. And the mountains covered with patches of palms has a certain tropical charm.

Today I scuba dived, taught one-on-one by a Japanese instructor whose grasp of English grammar was nearly non-existent, though she had no problem communicating. She was so crazy about diving that she moved to Koh Tao to make a life of it. After some morning lessons in the swimming pool, we headed out by boat to our first dive site in open water. I put on my wet suit, weights, regulator, mask, flippers (which for reasons I never figured out, my instructor called "finky"), and jumped into the ocean, then grabbed the rope and started down into the hazy blue depths.

I made it one meter before having to stop to try to calm the sheer terror. I'm not sure exactly what I was afraid of, but the idea of breathing underwater seemed to hit a fear response much like the fear of looking down from high places. My heart just would not stop beating, and after a minute waiting there I signaled I was going back up. I tried a second time, just looking into the water from the surface, but the terror just would not die down. I'm not sure exactly what was scary, it was an irrational response. My instructor suggested that I better do it or give up and go back, because if I go down and come up again, it will no longer be safe to dive. Should I just push through the fear, and subject myself to suffering just to say I've done it?

I thought back to rappelling. There was a boy, perhaps eight, whose father set him to rappel down the cliff. You could see he felt sheer terror. After going down a bit, he shouted in a cute British accent, "Dad, I can't see you! I can't see you!" His Dad answered, "You can't see me from there, but you're fine." The boy started bawling, and was basically lowered by his father down the cliff while he just hung there limply, wailing. At the bottom, with his family, he still wouldn't stop crying, though people tried to comfort him that it was over, that he was fine. Was I that boy?

If you know me, you probably know that I couldn't turn back at this point. I had to try. And so, into the depths I plunged. And this time, perhaps because I was down enough that I no longer had a sense of my depth, or maybe not, this time it was fine. At this site and the next, I never had a problem with fear. There's got to be a moral for you in that.

This brief episode aside, scuba diving was nice. In the open water, the peaks were covered with anemonies, the water was full of schools of barracudas; in the bay, the sea floor was full of corals peopled with colorful fish of all sizes. There were those colorful anemonies that look like flowers which suddenly withdraw into themselves when you come near. We saw a trigger fish, butterfly fish, angel fish, but the highlight was the blue-spotted stingray. I'd never known stingrays could be so purty.

In all, it was exactly like it looks in the Discovery channel videos of scuba divers. It's almost exactly like snorkeling, but in 3D. I don't see an allure so strong that I would move here and just dive every day, but it was fun.

Turtle Island

Before leaving Railay and Ao Nang, let me mention that the south is HOT. Sweat streaming down your face hot. In Bangkok, I stopped getting air-conditioned rooms, because I was most comfortable with it off. Here, it's another story.

Also everywhere are roti (or "Thai pancake") stands. They take a tiny amount of dough, stretch in to a translucent paper-thin, then fry it with fruit or chocolate inside like a fried crepe. There are lots of people who don't look Thai here, many Indians, Bangladeshis, Burmese, and so on. Today I even saw some non-white tourists (although all from the US or Europe).

Having seen one of the world's top beaches, I figured I'd go see another on the island Koh Tao, known for having among the world's best (and cheapest) diving. Someone at Railay assured me that "Railay is stunning, and Koh Tao was gorgeous." I took a package taxi/bus/boat to get there, which came at the price of hours of waiting at various food spots that clearly paid the bus company to stop there.

At our first stop, waiting for the bus, I chatted at length with a traveler from Argentina. He called his country the land of Satan, because it grows enough food to feed the world, but half the population is so poor they live on begging or stealing. He said the country has been taken over by crime, that there are many no-go areas, that the generation is lost since they don't even have the ethic to work rather than rob, that it was like in Al Pacino movies, and that the government tries to dominate and use the people rather than serve them (in the way, he said, that the US tries to dominate the world). He said that he quit his job as a computer programmer to work as a clerk at a store because inflation had so devalued his salary that he could make as much with less effort. He recommended the Argentinian movie Nueve Reinas (Nine Queens). Maybe any readers who have been to Argentina might be interested (you know who you are).

The bus took us to Surat Thani, but not to the pier. No, first we waited for three hours at a restaurant. Restless and walking around town, the various food stands and sad stores along a rather desolated road paid tribute to the quality of life here for many. I ran into some locals watching an English soccer match, and chatted with a 40-year-old man with black teeth. He was very friendly, although his English was barely existent. He had me write my name large, in pen, across the back of his shirt. He scrawled his on my hand. If only I could read Thai. It seemed sad that, though he wanted to visit New York, he probably would never be able to afford it, while here I was crossing the globe on a lark. There's got to be a fairer way.

Talking to the fellow travelers (when they weren't smoking, which was rare), I met among them a curious fellow named Johno, just living in a tent and wandering the world, who made clever use of his dreadlocks by stashing things in there. He could, for example, write with a dreadlock, thanks to the pen hidden therein. It was much like Swiss army hair.

At the pier, more waiting, and while I still didn't risk the delicious looking steet food, I did try some more new fruits. Sala is a fruit I previously said looked like a strawberry covered in spiky thorns. Turns out, it tastes of strawberry. I also tried a sapota. It was alright.

Finally, I climbed onto the night ferry. Each of the two "floors" had a distance from floor to ceiling of about waist high, and the floor was lined with mattresses one against the other, so that I had to crawl, or perhaps spelunk, to my mattress, which was only slightly wider than an ironing board. I imagine a little like those Japanese capsule hotels, but more of a group activity. It was comfortable enough, at least after fashioning a pillow from my towel, and sleep came easily.

On Koh Tao, there was beach, there was clear blue ocean, there were palm trees... and that's about it. I guess I'm not a beach person after all, because after half an hour, I was bored as hell, and the resorts and tourist bars and restaurants don't help much. I think the draw of Koh Tao, as well as the other, larger and more visited islands of Koh Phangan and Koh Samui, is the whole Spring Break vibe. Getting drunk and dancing at bars with other tourists. On the full moon, there is a famous Full Moon party on Koh Phangan which is just a round the clock drunken bacchanalia. I did not want to stay on this island for the rest of my trip, so I rushed to cancel my three-day diving course and just do a one-day dive. That, I figured, would give me time to chill in Bangkok, which is more my scene.

Alas, this is a difficult island to leave. I wouldn't be able to make the last boat, at 4pm, so I'll have to spend a day in transit, leaving me little time for Bangkok. Alas, Alack. I am stuck here, relaxing on one of Thailand's top beaches. I'm sure you all sympathize with my plight.

Railay climbing

The overnight train arrived not one but two hours late -- "Thai time". Since 3am I'd been standing, bags ready, waiting for my stop, with no way to ask anyone what's going on. A typical conversation:

(Pointing to watch) "How long to Suratthani?"
"Yes."

Actually, more typically, they launch into an entire speech in Thai even though I clearly have no idea what they're saying. Finally I made it, but by the time I got to Railay, I was a half hour late to the climbing course. That's ok, I made do. Railey is accessible only by boat, and that means taking off your shoes and wading through the ocean to the boat. Unprepared in my jeans and sneakers, some hijinks ensued.

Railey was beautiful. Limestone cliffs, mountains sheer on every side rising impassably up out of the land and ocean. I'd never been much of a beach person, but that really changes with the view. Particularly Phranang beach.


Rock climbing was supposedly a course, but all they did was hook people up and say, "Climb." The climbs were quite high, and fun. Here is a view from the bottom and from the top of one of the climbs, but as always, the grandeur does not come through.

We then walked along the cliffs, which were just glorious formations, past a passel of monkeys,

through some viney jungle, to some caves, where we climbed through the caves to an opening high on a cliff (the one shown rising tower-like below), and rappelled down.

We finished off with some more climbing. This one gave me a bloody knee, and by the time I reached the top I was exhausted, but climbing is great. Around us were lead climbers, and they were just like the stereotypes of rock climbing in extreme sports photos. They were super-ripped, shirtless, and so high up on the cliffs -- truly incredible to see.

Railay was so beautiful, the kind of thing I'd seen in pictures. Railay is all resorts, at US resort prices, so I spent the night in nearby Ao Nang, basically all tourists (who are, it seems, all white). Met a guy with dreadlocks. In one he hides a pens, so that he can write with his hair. In another, a crochet stick so that he can fix his hair. And to think the only thing I've ever stored in my hair is...

Speaking of super-ripped rock climbers, while not quite on that scale, I have noticed that among backpackers in guest houses, the men are all hunky. For any single women reading, you know where to go. (And no offense to the women backpackers, but they don't offer much competition.)

By the way, apparently transvestites ("ladyboys") are not uncommon here. I only notice them when I hear them speak in their low man's voice. Otherwise, no way I could tell.

They also seem low on traffic rules here. Crosswalks are nearly non-existant--they're drawn on the street, but not associated with any traffic light--so you are always crossing in the middle of traffic. I've yet to see a seatbelt in any vehicle.

Internet is expensive here in Koh Tao, so I'll stop here. Trip is almost done...

Day in Bangkok

The other day I was chatting with my friend Kei about my plans, and she told me to follow my heart. I responded that if I followed my heart, I would spend the rest of my trip camped out in the MBK Center shopping mall food court eating. Well, today I spent my day in Bangkok trying to do just that. It's incredibly difficult, apparently I'm not in the running for any competitive eating competitions. I managed one meal and three deserts all day! I was stuffed, and waiting for hunger to return didn't help. So I ordered three dishes and a dessert to go, hoping my appetite would come before spoilage (it didn't). This here was the best food I've had in all Thailand. Different from the food at US Thai restaurants. Delicious.

Here I am happiest. It felt good returning to the same shopping center, like it was not just something to be observed but a regular hangout. I like this better than touring ruins, just living here, getting food at my favorite spot, maybe seeing a movie, this is what I'd want to be doing in Bangkok. It's what made me love Taiwan. But there just isn't enough time.

So, my third overnight train, but this time I went for no air conditioning, not so much because it's cheaper as because I'd been freezing all night, and it's really not hot here. This train is a different experience. Dirtier and more broken down in appearance, with occasional roaches. It is not filled mostly with white tourists. I may be the only one. No one comes by offering a menu of exorbitantly priced meals. (Once on the air-con car I'd been offered a lukewarm tea in a little Dixie cup, and I thought, that's a nice touch. Only after I was done did he come back and charge me $2, the price of an entire meal at a restaurant.) But there are vendors constantly walking up and down the cars all night hawking their wares: this one with cold drinks, this one with sausages, this one with a plate of meat, eggs, and rice, most of them with foods I can't identify. It's lively.

Also, most of the people around me don't look Thai. Some have a "mixed" look which I'm guessing is Malaysian, others look Samoan or other mixtures, all with much darker skin than Thais (which are already darker than most Asians). Perhaps this is the look of people in the south. More than one wears Muslim headgear, and in the berth next to mine two are doing their prayers. Hm, I'd seen Muslim women in Bangkok in their hijab, but they'd just looked like any other Thais to me.

It's hard to put together the fashionably dressed teenagers at the shopping center with the shantytowns I see all along the train tracks, rusted corrugated metal patched together. Fancy cottages and ox-drawn carriages. I guess development comes, but reaches people slowly and very unevenly.

I note, by the way, that houses here are traditionally built on stilts, so that the open area under the floor serves as a kind of balcony or storage area. Newer houses often don't do that, but many do.

Ayutthaya

I arrived in the ancient Thai capital of Ayutthaya, burned down by Burmese invaders, and now all ruins. The temples here feature Khmer architecture. Most of the ruins on the island (since the city center is surrounded by rivers) are nice but not amazing. A few were special. I went around town by bicycle, but no longer able to tolerate the air, I bought a medical facemask like I see some tuktuk drivers wearing.

There was even a Buddha head inside a tree.

Then I took a boat ride around the island (making wacky faces only when photographed)

that stopped at three sights off the island, and they were all impressive. One included the perhaps the biggest golden Buddha I've seen (note the people on Buddha's lap for comparison).

Kids were shaking containers of sticks until one falls out, and presumably the stick that falls out determines which is your fortune -- similar to what I saw in Japan. An elderly monk stopped me and asked, via translator, where I'm from, and how much my flight cost, and then went on, which seemed odd. He took a folded up saffron cloth, and among kneeling school children before the Buddha, did some kind of prayer or blessing, then threw the cloth up onto the Buddha where two people, standing in Buddha's lap, unfolded the very long cloth and threw the end down. All the students put the cloth over their heads, covering themselves up as if they were making a fort. They chanted something, and then the cloth was pulled off from over top of them upwards onto the Buddha. Looks like a fun religion.

Most impressive of all, though, was Wat Chaiwattanaram. The pictures I took don't do justice to this breathtaking ruin. If you come, you must see this.

Boxing and heading south

After a bike ride through the car exhaust, I got in a Muay Thai boxing lesson before leaving Chiangmai. It requires keeping a lot of coordination in mind which, like ballroom dancing, will only come with lots and lots of repetition.

After that, I left Lanna country--since this area used to be its own kingdom until conquered by Burma and then joining forces with Thailand, and the Lanna people here speak their own language.

My second overnight train ride is a good opportunity to talk about trains here. This is no supersmooth Amtrak train. It bumps and shakes like an old wooden train, and the loud clackety-clack of the expansion joints is insufferable when trying to sleep. Plus the lights stay on all night, making the little reading light by my head a sarcastic flourish. The toilet is a hole: through it you can see the train tracks passing below. The trains arrive about an hour late (aka "Thai time"). And the stops are not announced, forcing me to lie in my windowless birth and try to feel when the train stops, then hurry down and look outside for signs that I get off here, no trivial feat from the throes of sleep at 5am. I'm not really complaining, just enjoying the differentness here.

The street food is so enticing but I'm too worried about getting typhoid. For example, green papaya salad: here on the street they let you choose what you want in yours, and then crush it up for you in the mortar. But those fresh vegetables were probably washed in regular water. I really miss out on so many yummy-looking treats.

Billboard-sized images of the king are everywhere. Apparently he is beloved, or at least egomaniacal. I saw a young guy in a car with a Lance Armstrong bracelet, only it was orange and said (in English!) "Long Live the King". The biggest stripe on the flag represents the king, which I was told is because he is above the kingdom or religion. Little guy with glasses. He's no The King and I.

Golden Triangle

Monday, I joined some Autralians heading up north. It was quite a long way, and we had to find ways to entertain ourselves. Animal, vegetable, or mineral anybody? I learned about such marvellous things as netball and AFL football, Tibtabs and vegemite.


The White Temple was quite stunning. Walking up to the entrance you are surrounded by hands, some holding skulls, reaching up towards you from hell. Statues of fierce demons stand overhead yielding weapons. Scary images with eyes falling out; a twisted demon-man whose penis is a monster. You cross from hell into the temple, where the mural before you is heaven: Buddha overlooking temples and lotus flowers with people kneeling, hands clasped in prayer. The mural behind you is hell, full of demons and monsters and bombs and guns and... Spiderman? Wait, is that Neo? Keanu Reeves as Buddhist temple icon?! And that's a robot storm trooper, from Star Wars. And the world trade center aflame. And a cell phone. Bizarre.


We crossed the Mekong River into Laos, at the golden triangle, where three countries meet and which used to be a center of the opium trade. In Donxao, Laos, our guide encouraged us to buy whiskey with any number of dead animals inside, mostly cobras but also tiger penises. No one seemed to care that these were endangered species, or that drowning an animal in whiskey is barbarically cruel. I stole away from the market, past the chickens running about, down a beaten path through a thicket so dense that I was nearly crawling through a tunnel of overgrowth. I came out by a small river where three Lao boys were laughing and playing. Then a group of oxen cam by and waded into the water. It was a picture of rustic poverty. I walked towards some huts and the boys, seeing me, came up to me. They were so cute, and really a picturesque image of third world children. They could be in a "sponsor a child" ad. I tried to take a photo of us together, but my aim is, well, developing. I gave them a few baht to thank them and headed back to Thailand.


I later visited two hilltribe villages, the Akha and the Yao. Both were originally from China. Both believe animist religions. The Yao are much richer, with many regular-looking houses. Older Yao still speak Mandarin, and I was finally able to communicate with someone here, though her accent was strong.


I very much feel the barrier of being a tourist. My view of Thailand is so superficial. Let me describe Chiangmai to you as it looks through my eyes. The old city, where I'm staying, is just hostel after hotel, tons of them, one after another. On the larger roads I find restaurants, commonly serving western food like cereal and sandwiches, but always frequented entirely by tourists--how authentically Thai is the food really? There are tourism stores, rental stores, massage parlours, internet cafes, 7-11s... I'm in tourist land. When I manage to get to where Thais live, I am unmoored by language. I can't read a menu or ask anyone questions. I am looking in through a soundproof window while the real Thailand hurries about and gestures on the other side. I have such profound appreciation for Yinghui and Lin Mama who took me into Taiwan, showing me all the places people go, the food they eat, the things they do, answering my questions and opening up the world.

I can, however, point out superficial things... like toilets! They run the gamut, but it's very common to have a squat toilet with no plumbing, just a spigot and a bucket for you to pour water in and thus manually flush. Also, it's a bring-your-own-TP country.


Also, what English they do know (and it isn't much) is British English. It's all "rubbish bin" and "torch" and "on holiday" here. They say "to-MAH-to" and "BA-sel", which made me realize, I'd always thought that unlike women, who get names like "April" and "Grace" and "Joy" and "Rose" and "Pearl", the only man's name that means something is "Victor". If you're in England, I guess "Basil" counts too! Ah, the important scientific discoveries happening over here.