Because Pork Chops Taste Good....

From another esteemed fellow traveler comes this great photo from the markets of Thailand. These are one of the offerings found on both dinner plates and the altars of local Chinese Temples.

It brings to mind the conversation between Jules and Vincent about why Jules does not eat pork. Unless it is one seriously charming pig that is.

Ultimate Dinner

The New Year's Eve  feast

Them bones, them bones, them, crab bones

My last dinner in Thailand for this year, and my last meal of 2013, was at the invite of my hosts here in Trat. A home cooked meal of mussels, clams, crab, chicken, papaya salad and fresh fuit for dessert.

I hope that everyone reading these posts has had as wonderful an ultimate day as I have. I offer each of you my humble wishes for a fantastic New Year.

Be well, Live Out Loud, and Laugh often!!

marco

Ultimate Continued

The path out onto my own private isthmus

The view from my lakeside hideaway

Muay Thai in action

The next contestants getting the gloves on.

Since I had the luxury of riding back to town, I immediately grabbed a cigar and decided to walk out to the local reservoir and find a shady spot to enjoy the afternoon. A mere two kilometers later, I was parked on a little isthmus out on the lake, watching the kites hunt in the updrafts when I wasn't reading my book. Absolute solitude, a warm afternoon, a good book and a fine cigar. What else could one ask for?

Lunch, that's what. I stopped at a little lakeside restaurant, which amused and befuddled the local folks thee. Not a farang establishment. The menu was in Thai script, so we had to go verbal. I managed well enough and had a fine repast of fried rice, shrimp and veggies while the geckos hunted in the rafters and my fellow diners got a jump start on the evenings festivites. Let's just say that the bar was kept hopping.

On the walk back, I was treated to some fine crowd action at a local Muay Thai boxing match. There is an outdoor training gym just up the road from my place and today was a match day. The crowd was in fine form and the boxers were doing their best. Muay Thai is a combination of boxing, kicking and elbow and knee blows all rolled into one martial art. The light weights that I watched were going after it fast and furious. Yet another bonus to the day.

Ultimate Vignettes

Where the mangroves meet the open water.

Huge Bromeliads haning from the mangrove trunks.  It is an amazingly intertwined ecosystem

Ultimate

The Mangrove Nature Trail

Into the Mangroves

Real ife nature on the trail.  I did not get a phot of the big-ass snake.

On this, the ultimate day of 2013, I went where the whims of the travel gods took me. The course of one's journey hangs by the finest of threads, events hinging on the most minute choices. When I fall into the delusion that I control the course of life, I am often quickly reminded that the entire course of an existence can pivot on the slightest occurence. Whether Chthonic or divine, the agents of fate have been known to blast my strongly held concepts of free choice and self-determination into the smallest of bits.

Everything I touched today turned to something else. By acknowledging that events were far beyond my control, the day flowed form one scene to another, blissfully unaware of my plans.

I walked out of Trat, heading south towards the Gulf of Thailand. I was heading for a mangrove restoration and preservation area which has a walkway out into the mangrove swamps. This is important if you want to visit a mangrove swamp and you are not either a mudskipper or a snake. The mangroves are utterly impassable.

I had been needing a nice long walk to unkink my laziness of the last few days. Twelve klicks, while a death march for most Thai, is a mere bagatelle for a dedicated walker. I found the mangrove preserve and had the place utterly and completely to myself except for two Dags that did require a stone or two. Shady and solitary, I saw some sort of bittern that darated amongst the mangrove roots, countless lizards and other scuttling things, and one damn big snake. Fortunately it was below the walkway and I was up on the walkway. This serpent was at least three feet long and fast. The other wiggly was a five inch long millepede that was truly fearsome looking, but still only five inches long.

Walking back was not to be. The Thai do not understand walking if it does not involve food or shopping. I had not gone two hundred meters before I was offered a ride. The folks were so nice I could not refuse. They hauled me partway to town and, before I could even get up a head of steam to continue, another car stopped for me. It would have been rude to refuse and they were getting a kick out of picking up a poor farang.

There was more to the day and there will be more to this post.......

What I did....

Lucky for all of us, Trat takes food safey seriously down here at the Night Market.

What I did on my Winter Vacation, By Marco

Today I did nothing.  Well, not completely nothing, but Mostly Nothing.

OK, so I went shopping and bought a pair of flip flops.  After I ate.  That's what Thai folks do, they eat and they shop.  Preferably both at the same time or in close proximity.

Oh yeah, I had coffee.  Twice.  Cafe society is a big deal here in Trat.  

I did do some business, exchanging dollars for Baht.  That's like doing something, no?

Oh, and I made a still-life.  Do you like it?  Its sort of ike a Vermeer, but not quite as dreamy.  I call it 

"Street Food on a Chair with SOG Automatic Knife"

I did a crazy street dance with two Thai kids today.  I guess that counts as something.  This little boy was about four years old and he cornered me in the middle of the soi and started dancing.  I didn't get the exact wording of his squeaky Thai, but it loosely translated into English as "C'mon big Foreign dude, lets dance in the street like wild things."  So that's what we did.  His older sister, who was maybe six, threw herself into the mix and we had us a wild street mosh while their mom howled with laughter and egged us all on.  It was pretty much the hit of morning on that little Soi.  Those kids had some moves!

But mostly I hung out on my balcony and watched the world roll on by.  My guesthouse here in Trat is run by a German Cat and his Thai wife.  The place looks like a cross between a Chinese Hotel and a Greek Inn, complete with Corinthian (Doric?) columns.  Its all blue and white and the beds are wonderful and the pillows are not too big and its a corner room with a lovely breeze.

So, really, today I didn't do anything worth mentioning.  Lucky Me.

Trat Wat

Keeping the sightseeing agenda very low key.  This is a small Wat in town, which was busy having a potluck whilst I was wandering about.

My favorite miniature monk.

Trapped in Trat

The pile of shoes left outside Pops Guesthouse as travelers vie for unavailable bookings for the local islands.  It's the High Season Blues for those that have not booked ahead.

The lazy river in lazy Trat

In case one of the riverside firetraps goes up in flames, we are ready to hose them down.

This is the highest of the high season here in Thailand. The foreigners are heading south in droves and now even the Thais are on the move, trying to find that perfect bit of beach with an overhanging shade tree. Thanks to the travel Gods I am stuck in Trat, trapped like a rat. What a blessing.

Trat is mostly a sleepy little town on a sleepy little river. I have a most awesome corner room on a quiet street with a little view towards the river. Nothing much happens here. Around Pops Guesthouse, the local travel hub, there is a scrum of tourists trying to get to one of the local islands. Ko Chang is the big party island. It's booked. Booked solid. The smaller, "quieter" islands like Ko Mak: booked. Down the Southeastern sliver of Thailand between the Gulf and Cambodia there are several small beaches with bungalows. Booked. So the folks that did not book ahead are trying to find somewhere to go. Anywhere. Me, I'm perfectly content to while away the end of the year doing nothing.

Maybe I will rent a bike and go tooling around some of the local mangrove swamps. Maybe its time to rent a scooter and go putting around the countryside inland. Maybe I'll sit on my butt and watch the river go by. Regardless, I have found a quiet little backwater that suits me to a "T". I've seen temples and grand sights and palaces enough. Today I wandered about, had great luck at the local amulet market, and enjoyed some fine market stall food. I watched the local kids training at a Muy Thai boxing ring, outdoors of course. I bought some of the local "Yellow Oil" which is supposed to cure anything it is rubbed on. Its a secret family recipe passed down for generations and a local specialty. Here you can purchase luck and purchase cure-alls, both for a song.

It is time for nothing. I have no agenda, no plan, and no expectations. I have to be in Bangkok on January 5th. I may make an island run after the New Year turns, but if I don't, well, I have been to islands before. In the meantime I am feeling the wonders of laziness creep into ever part of me. Trapped like a Rat, in Trat, with everything that I need. Life is so good.

Trat is for Foodies

Trat is a food town.  Lucky me.  Without any real Thailand agenda, I chose to wander South from Chanthaburi to Trat, about two hours away.  Most travelers use this as a jumpoff point for Ko Chang, a party island in the Eastern Gulf of Thailand.  Me, I'm staying put in Trat.   This is a cool town with new food.  This lovely treat is a small rice pancake cooked into a chip.  It is filled with coconut cream that is cooked to almost a merengue consistency and then topped with a little savory something.  Its crucnhy and sweet and fruity with just a touch of slat as well.  New favorite snack!!

Fruit?  How about a big bag of cut pineapple for less than a buck?  And its perfect, juicy and wonderful.  None of that "been sailing on a ship" green crap.

This was my stall du jour.  Point at the main ingredients and go sit on a rickety plastic stool while the magic happens.

Fried catfish with fiery red curry and sweet melon on the side.  The peanut sauce was left over from some satay appetizers.  Yeah Baby!!

Party!

It's a Captain America kind of holiday!

Godzilla getting in the spirit before going after a cardboard city.

And my favorite, the Alien Queen.  Even here acid-blood bad self has the holiday spirit!!

The Thais love anything that can be used as an excuse for a party. Christmas is just another event that can be turned into silly fun and the Thais are game. As I walked through Chanthaburi to catch my bus to Trat, I passed an arcade on the way. The full sized action figures out front were ready to get down with the Holiday Season.

All that Glitters

A trading table on the Gem Street

Bustling Gem Street

One of the serious tables where the activity was frenzied.

Fridays see the quiet little city of Chanthanburi transformed from shuttered store fronts to a buzzing market for gemstones. Traders arrive from all around Asia. There are Arabic and East Indian folks sitting behind rows of small tables, buyers and sellers busy with negotiations. Stones of all colours are laid out in dazzling displays. The more precious specimens of rubies and sapphires appear out of small pouches, are laid out and sorted, and then swiftly whisked our of sight when the deal is concluded.

I was offered a few deals by men in the street, but know enough of my complete lack of knowledge to openly proclaim my ignorance. This seemed to satisfy the glass dealers looking for an easy rube, and rube I would be.

Watching the deals go down was fascinating stuff. Sellers would start to retract a handful of gems and have their hand grasped by the dealer's own hand as he entered a new figure on a calculator and turned it to the seller. When an impasse was reached, the calls would go out and the resident expert for that group of tables would step up to pass judgement on the quality of the stones or the acceptability of the price. Sometimes this seemed to clinch the deal and other times the stones would be retracted and another buyer or seller sought for. There was no shortage. Down the main gem street and up each of the Sois (alleys) there was a frenzied trade going on. This will continue until Sunday and then the city will go back to sleep.

What I saw was just a small portion of the gem trade here in C-Town. Many of the shops on the narrow streets are higher end gem stores, importing stones for cutting, wholesaling cut stones, or selling completed pieces of jewelry. The local craftsmen have a reputation as fine gem cutters and make up a large part of the local economy.

Blended in amongst the gem tables were food stalls of all varieties. I had lunch at a tiny Indian joint, which supplied the local East Indian and Sri Lankan traders with vegetarian food. My 35 baht ( $1.10 ) lunch was amazingly good. During the course of the meal, orders for take-out would be phoned in or harried traders would appear through the door, offer their prayers to the Hindu shrine, place their orders and then hurry back to their stalls. The cafe owner or his kids would then bring the meals to the hungry traders.

Altogether and amazing afternoon of observed commerce. I cannot pretend to understand a tenth of what I was witnessing, but it was intriguing nonetheless.

Eats

Last brekkie in Cambodia.  The melon set me back twenty-five cents.

Ahh, Thailand, nome of "pick-a-dish" brekkie!  One has to have a good meal prior to venturing out into this maelstrom of gem trading.  Its Friday in C-Town, the day the gem traders descend on this sleepy town, transforming it into a scheming, sweating, steaming hotbed of gem sale negotiations.   And all of it taking place in plain view on the streets.  Its crazy.  Sapphires and rubies are the big deals here, but there are myriad other precious and semi-precious stones being scooted about on felt topped tables.  

My "pick-a-dish" was galang pla, tod mun, and an egg.  That's fish curry, fish patty and, well, an egg.  

One plate is thirty baht.  That's just less than a buck.

Words of Wisdom

From the bathroom of my guesthouse here in C-Town come these sage words of Wisdom.

Chanthaburi

The glamorous Cambodian side of the border.  That's my classy taxi.

The equally glamorous Thai side.

Songtheuw to C-Town!  All aboard!!

Thailand!! I am back in the land of Easy. Au Revoir Cambodia.

By shared taxi, by moto, by songtheug and on foot, I made my way from Pailin to the border crossing at Ben Pakard. Middle of nowhere, Thailand.

First the shared taxi. After roaming around town picking up locals, it dawned on me that these folks were not going to Thailand. Ding! Lightbulb on. The guest house had told the taxi Battambang, where I had just come from. Hahaha. Everyone is laughing. No problem.

Another taxi appears, magic! Money changes hand and the secret network functions. North to the edge of town, we pull over. New taxi pulls up. "You change here sir". Ok sure, what do I care? I have two weeks to get to Bangkok.

Mysterious hand signs and more money ( not mine ) and we zoom to the border. Bing bang, I walk across no mans land, the usual forms and I'm in Thailand. It's 60 kilometers to the next real town. Nothing but a few nasty looking Russian tourists heading for Pattaya in their own mini-van. No no no.

So I ask around. Nope, no mini-vans. Ok. I've done this over and over. The secret transport network always smells.......baht!!!

Money. A traveler in tea so had money. Sure enough, Mr BlueVest pops out of nowhere. "Chanthaburi?" Ok, no problem. He knows where I'm going (how the fuck do they do this? It's a mystery) and he knows how to get me there. 50 baht moto ride to somewhere and then 100 baht mini-van to C-town. Cool. Motos away!!

A few kilometers later, we pull out into a lonely Thai two lane. Just as a songtheug shows up ( how the fuck do they do that?). Ok, climb aboard, one Thai hipster guy in back, and we roll.

I get off more or less in the center of town. The dodgiest bit is knowing where to get off. The songtheugs wiggle through town on their own arcane route. Everyone else knows the route, but not you, aye Mr Foreigner? So you have to choose a spot that looks right and bail.

And here I am, in the gem trading Capitol of Thailand. Which will wait for another post.

Prezzies

The scrum of shool kids at Wat Phnom Yat

Political discussions mixed with photo ops.

The paton Buddha of NBA players

Hambone Kids at the local mosque.

The Christmas presents were piled high under my metaphorical Yule tree today, although I had to walk a ways to find them. Cambodia was generous on this, my last full day in the country. Fully replenished with a traditional holiday brekkie of fried seafood noodles, I set out for Pailin town, walking down my new favorite country backroad that takes the long way. I was sweating a bit in the warm morning sun. Five kilometers later I arrived at my destination, Wat Phnom Yat, a hilltop temple done up in psychedelic colours, gleaming on its hill like a benign acid trip.

Buses, there were buses parked all along the road at the bottom of the stairs. Had Pailin been invaded by the Chinese tour groups? What new hell is this? But no, the Phnom (hill in the Khmer language) had been overrun by school groups on field trips. And who was soon to be the unknowing star of the show? Yeah, the Lone Foreigner, that's who.

In the intensive interactions that followed, I was asked to be in group photos. Not just once, but over and over. I was very politely mobbed by kids. During our photo shoots, the kids vied with each other to hold my hands, get their arms around my neck, and generally engulf me in a sea of goodwill. It was another example of being the "Other," of being unique without having done anything to warrant that uniqueness. And it was so utterly charming and wonderful. I could not have asked for a better day or a better holiday gift.

I had the opportunity for a long talk with one of the teachers, a very pointed political discussion about how normal Cambodians view the government of strong man Hun Sen, the "Prime Minister" of this country. The views expressed by this teacher validated those written in the political histories of Cambodia that I have been reading. He spoke of corruption, cronyism, a lack of services or basic care for most of the working people of Cambodia. The ills of a broken political system categorized while the kids snapped photos of their teacher talking with the foreigner. Openly expressing these views, especially in writing, could be dangerous for this man. So it is here, the constant reminders that this place, as wonderful as it can be, has a troubled past and a troubled present.

Leaving behind the Wat and my new-found star status, I walked down the dusty backstreets of Pailin, following a sign for the local mosque. When I got there, I had my own photo op with the mosque kids who were all to happy to pose for a group photo.

In between my interactions, I filled the day with my usual activities. I stopped for coffee, found an open air stall for lunch, and was even treated to a sales pitch for some gemstones. Rubies and sapphires were spread out in front of me at a counter, glimmering in the light. Or perhaps cut glass for all I know. I do know that loose gems in Asia are best left to those that have a least an inkling of what they are looking at. Me? I'm an idiot when it comes to these shiny baubles, so I politely looked and did not buy. But it was fun.

In a few hours the sun will be rising on a new Christmas morning for most of you. My wish for all of you is a happy holiday with family and friends. My Christmas Day has been more than I could ever hope or ask for and I wish the same for all of you.

Be well, be happy, live large.

marco

Pailin

The incredilbe ambience of my noodle joint in Battambang.  This place will wow a date, let me tell you!

Home-made noodle and dumplings.  Food to keep a traveler on his feet.

Brekkie is the most important meal of the day, especially on a travel day.

It is, indeed, a Holiday in Cambodia.  My Pailin guest house has a tree, so fear not.  I have all the neccesaries for a Holly Jolly Christmas.

It is pronounced "Pie-lin", not Pay-lin. It is a province and town in the very Western portion of Cambodia, abutting Thailand. This is my last stop in Cambodia, my christmas hide-out. It will be the scene of my Jello Biafra-Dead Kennedys Holiday in Cambodia. And really, what better place. These hills were the stronghold of the Khmer Rouge, Pol Pot's hideout long after the Vietnamese invasion put and end to their murderous stranglehold on this beautiful and troubled country. That's what the boys in the Dead Kennedys were basing their song on. And here I am.

The day after Christmas, I will cross the border into Thailand. The border checkpoint lies very close to where that murderous madman Pol Pot was cremated on a pyre of tires. Pailin isn't on the tourist trail. Its the retirement province for the Khmer Rouge. The son of Brother Number Three is the governor of this province. Pailin was rich in tropical hardwoods and gems, but the Khmer Rouge logged it and mined it and sold the booty to Thai generals across the border. In this way they funded their war coffers so that they could continue attacks against the Cambodian government in Phnom Penh and get rich in the process. Life was hard here for the remaining Khemr Rouge cadre, but not for the honchos.

Buses don't run here anymore. The taxi lobby probably got the route squelched. This happens here. In Siem Reap, the Tuk-tuk boys got together and convinced the local government that scooter rentals to foreigners should be banned. In most of Cambodia, renting a scooter is easy and cheap. But if the tourists can rent scooters for the day to tour the Angkor temples, then they don't need to fork over dollars to the Tuk-tuk pilots. So no scooters. And in Pailin, no buses.

After a formidable breakfast of fruit and pancakes, I grabbed my bag and headed for the taxi stand. To get to Pailin, a traveler needs his or her own wheels, or else one needs to get a shared taxi. When I arrived at the taxi stand, the drivers descended on me like I was the last Thin Mint at a weight-watchers meeting. In short order, the price dropped to ten dollars for a front seat to ease the eighty kilometer ride. I had not yet ridden in a car in Cambodia, and the luxury of a front seat in a comfortable car was a novelty. Ten dollars is about two and a hlaf times what a bus ticket would cost, but try getting a western cabbie to schlep you 48 miles for $10.

It is Christmas Eve here in Asia. I am celebrating by doing nothing. My guest house is very comfortable, with a big shady garden area and a nice veranda. The extent of my efforts today have revolved around reading my book and thinking about walking into town for some Khmer food. I feel quiet today, and very reflective. My time in Cambodia has been joyful, heart breaking, challenging and rewarding. I will spend Christmas Day wandering around the local area, seeing a few things, and relaxing. Seems like a good plan.

Since I am a day ahead of most of my blog readers, I would like to wish all of you a wonderful holiday time over the next few days. May you enjoy it with family and friends and be well.

Announcement

Our Bamboo Guest House is very welcome all guests who had stayed in, to keep more security and safety.  Please all guests coordinate and respect as following points:

1/.  Please provide receptionist your ID and fill the forms of staying.

2/.  Please pay fee of room before your staying.

3/.  Ease turn off water and lights when you finished and when you left.

4/.  Do not electrical tools in the rooms, except phone and camera charger.

5/.  Please keep all your value things by yourselves ( our guest house won't take responsibility all things which didn't keep in reception)

6/.  Do not take our guesthouse to be place for tradable human or sexuality.

7/. Do not take our guest house to be place for taking drugs or drug trading.

8/. Do not take all kinds of weapons into the rooms.

9/.  Do not take all things which easy to burn and damage into the rooms.

10/.  Do not make any noisy to disturb nearby rooms.

11/.  All damage or broken things, guests have to pay back to guest house depending on damage or broken amounts.

We do hope and trust that all guests who had stayed in our guest house will be coordinated and respected all above by favor.

Bless to all our guests to get healthy and good dream in days-nights.

                                               Dated ..............2008
                                                Manager of Guest House

The Cave

The entrance

The Dead

I stood at the entrance to the upper cave entrance. I did not want to go any further. I was alone. There was no one to urge me forward, no tourists, and the Cambodian kids who act as impromptu guides won't go down into this cave.

This cave entrance leads downwards, via a short path, to a small natural platform. From here there is a long drop to the lower cave. This is the spot where the Khmer Rouge killed thousands of men, women and children, bludgeoning them and then letting the victims fall into the cave.

I stood alone at the entrance. I had to tell myself that evil unconfronted is evil that retains power. What I actually said, out loud, was "Don't be a pussie" and then I climbed down.

This place is truly evil. There is a palpable presence here. It is horrible and powerful. I remained in that spot, alone, as long as I could bear it.

And then I was back in the sunlight. Perhaps confronting that evil place made some small difference. Or it could be an empty gesture. Don't know. But for my own respect and to respect the bones of the victims I'm the Lowe cave, I had to stand in that place.

My Favorite Joints

Hand thrown noodles and dumplings in Battambang

Decadent fruit and pancakes at Sunrise

Predictable

It just happens. At some point during each journey, I see the end and I fight against it. I don't want a return, I want to hack at the last strands that seem to bind me to a home. I want to cross the border into Thailand, get a boat across the gulf and head South. Singapore, Malaysia, Borneo, Indonesia. South, keep going. Just go.

Everything I need I have in my bag. I know that I can live comfortably with what I carry. One month, two months, two years, what's the difference? It all fits in the same bag, all that I need.

Its not true, my turning South. The desire is true. It is so real for me. I could simply keep exploring until I die. But not on this journey. I will let this journey end. The hard truth is that I have to go home, to whatever that word means.

Each time this becomes so much harder for me, this moment that always comes, bidden or not. What is the truth of this? I don't always know. There is so much that I do not understand, that I am incapable of grasping. What I do know is that I am good at this one thing: I can travel. I do not become lonely, I do not become impatient, I do not become jaded. The act of the journey opens me, peels back successive layers, leaves me naked and vulnerable.

Perhaps it is an evolution, or perhaps it is just another aspect of my obsessive behavior. Whatever the stew of causes and motivations, what is true for me is that I revel in the journey. I have found the thing in life that gives me incredible joy, the thing that teaches me, molds me, and strips me raw before the world.

I am a better human being for each journey. I struggle to keep that spark alive when I return home. I am not always capable of integrating what I gain from the journey. Perhaps I can learn to blend the freedom that travel gives me into my day-to-day life when I am not traveling.

There are still days ahead, adventures to experience, and yet another border to cross. This moment will pass, I will do my best to let the passing of time be exactly what it is, the passing of time, life as it is lived each moment. After all, what else is the lesson of the journey but that?