Time Traveling in Burma

So the question is not whether you should visit Burma, but it is when you will visit.  Yes, extreme human rights violations do occur every day and some of your money will go to the military while visiting.  However, the little you can spare, whether giving kyat to a local villager for a handmade longgi or staying at a family owned guesthouse, will make the difference in a few lives, and in yours.  So far, throughout my adventures, Burma has been my favorite trip of all...even better then the pyramids.  So let's go back in time...


We had planned this trip months in advance, as I had fuond ridiculously cheap airfare to Rangoon on one of those pormotion days on AirAsia.  It was so far in advance that it was still too early to be excited or nervous about going.  It did not hit me until on the plane that I was going to Burma.  Most poeple in the States do not even know what Burma is, let alone know where it is.  We had been told to be careful and make sure to follow the rules while traveling throughout the country, as it is one of the most corrupt countries in the world.  That is probably all I can say about that.  I wish I could describe more about what happens there, but I live in the second most internet censored and monitored country after China.  I'd prefer to stay out of Thai, or Burmese prisons, thank you. 

We were greeted by Kaizer's friend at the airport, who was kind enough to pick us up and take us to his hotel in the city center.  It was so helpful, as we would have been pretty lost upon arrival.  We took a government taxi, which are more luxurious and expensive, through the green windy streets that led down to the main square.  Driving through Rangoon was like going back a few decades.  No car was made after 1990, and maybe had windows, sidemirrors, or paint jobs.  Makeshift songtaews picked up locals, as 20-30 Burmese crammed into the back or on top of the vehicles.  We learned what the real taxis were like a few hours later when we were on our own to get to the bus station.  There is not much to a Rangoon taxi -- a frame, engine, and some seats.  No belts, no mirrors, no pads.  I remember ours had little putting green-like rugs at our feet.  The car had literally been stripped from the inside, with no covers on the doors, where you could see the skeleton of the entire car.  Interesting.  We were lucky enough to never break down, as normal Rangoon roads seem to encourage lake sized potholes.  It seemed like going off road may have been safer than paved roads.  Anyways, after our nice cab ride to the hotel, our new friend, Deep Kieren helped us illegally exchange money through his hotel (a very common occurence).  Since the junta is, well...the junta, government rates are purely entertainment.  The average street black market rate for $US to kyat is $1=900ky.  Government rate, 1$=560ky.  I figure if even the most luxurious hotel in Rangoon is exchanging money illegally, it must be legit.  Apparently using black market rates are common.  So common that even the currency exchange operator at the airport was not open anymore.  So obviously, with a rate of almost 1000 to 1 (and the highest bill being 1000), we felt like gazillionaires when Deep Kieren gave us two stacks of kyat worth a couple hundred dollars.  And thus, we were ready to take on Burma, one thousand kyat at a time.

Deep Kieren and two of his friends gave us a brief tour of the area, which included eating khao suei (local noodle dish -- very good), and getting our bus tickets aranged for the 10 night bus to the mysterious Bagan.  $15 for a ten hour ride isn't too shabby, i guess.  And that was with dual pricing for farang.  Before arriving in Burma, Kaizer had been in contact with a friend he met through an event at the FCCT (Foreign Correspondants Club Thailand), who was going to be going to Bagan on the same day.  He contacted her and we agreed to meet up at the bus station.  That was a bit difficult, since the bus station was more like a small town, with the population made up of buses.  It even had a bus graveyard.  We quickly realized we weren't going to find her among the confusion and size of this 'station'.  So, what did we do?  Find the nearest resteraunt and order local beer.  The local beer happened to be the best tasting beer since Beer Lao.  And Beer Lao is pretty damn good.  The combination of the light smooth taste of Myanmar Beer and free nuts made for quite a few hours before our trip.  However, the easy and cheap flowing brew soon began to show its high asian alcohol content.  It was already too late before Shannon and I realized we each drank 3 large bottles of that green glowing delight.  It was then we realized we had a ten hour bus ride, with no bathroom on board.  And Burmese roads aren't what you would call smooth.  I believe there is only one fully paved road in the counrty, and we were not taking it.  Luckily, we stopped twice along the way, at the very convenient times of 11pm and 3am.  Not that I was trying to sleep or anything.  Oh yeah, and guess who we found upon boarding our bus -- Kaizer's friend Martha.  She happened to be on the exact same bus at the same time.  We knew it was her, as she was the only other white person on the bus. The bus stopped twice at these 'stops', sort of like our version of truck stops, but for buses, vans, cars, trucks making journeys.  The food was...interesting, so I usually grabbed a whole marble cake from a vendor to hold me over.

We arrived around 3:30am into Bagan, where we grabbed our first horse cart that Deep had arranged for us back in Rangoon.  Luckily, the quarter final Braca champions league second leg clash against Arsenal was still playing in the common kitchen area of the guesthouse.  After I watched Messi and Xavi make the Gunners look silly in a 3-1 rout, I hit the bed around 4...Forca Barca.  Unfortunately, the guesthouse was not worth its value, as it came equipped with prehistoric mosquitos and a dry coughing sick local that may or may not have died over night.  So...we slept well.  We left after a few hours of sleep, bargaining for the rooms, as we only stayed half of a night.  Martha recommended a guesthouse that she read about called New Haven, which we found right around the corner.  New Haven was our haven for the next few days, and it made our stay in Bagan amazing.  They exchanged money for us at a good rate, arranged all our transport, rented us bikes, and provided spacious and comfortable rooms...with air-con!  Although, since it was Burma, electricity would go out frequently, and would not come back on until the government felt like turning it back on...convenient, eh?  So the first day we ventured out into the lost ancient city of Bagan, filled with over 2,000 temples, all for our exploring.

Bagan is Burma's prized jewel -- one of the greatest sites not only in the country but in South East Asia.  Across endless plains, stretching back from the great Ayerwaddy River, thousands of stupas, chedis, and phatos (temples) of all sizes lye in every direction.  The temples reflect the Kingdom of Bagan's golden period, which was between 1000 and 1200AD. It was overrun by Kublai Khan and the Mongols in 1287.  The plains of Bagan were as if all the churches and cathedrals in Europe were placed together in the Loire Valley -- Asian style.  After its decline and endurred invasions, Bagan became a mysterious location, with rumors of looters and 'nats' (haunted spirits).  Once the Queen's Navy arrived for colonization, the cities of Nyaung U (where we stayed), and New Bagan sprung up.  So after mongol, chinese, ghost, and spirit invasions, British colonialism, and a deveastating 1975 earthquake, Bagan still stands magnificient -- even though it is merely a frail shadow of what it was at its peak.  So I will spare those who do not want a further history lecture and continue the story of our Burmese Days (a book by George Orwell for those who did not catch the pun).

So, we rented bikes.  We bagn our journey by stopping after a minute or so to grab food.  You can pretty much find anything you want in Bagan as far as food.  We ate western, indian, burmese, chinese, and italian food in three days there.  All amazing.  And everything comes with free nuts.  I don't know why I found those so amazing, but I did.  I guess you have to be there.  It also helps when Myanmar and Mandalay Beer is cheaper than water -- and water is cheap.  So after eating we toured the mighty golden Shwezigon Paya.  It resembeled That Luang from Vientiane, but bigger and better.  Legend has it that the Shwezigon was built to house one of the four replicas of Buddha's tooth in Kandy (city in Sri Lanka).  The other three were transported to other regions of the country.  Perhaps the tooth fairy was among the looters and invaders in the 13th century, because I couldn't find any teeth.  That was a dumb joke, I know.  So when we parked our bikes outside the Paya, we were greeted by shop women who gave us paper butterfly pendants, and asked us to remember them for their presents.  We shouldn't have accepted.  After touring the great Paya and exploring the golden wonder by ourselves, we walked back through the corridor on the cool white marble under our barefeet.  There we were greeted by our new 'friends', who literally grabbed us and sat us on stools to look at their goods.  They basically forced everyone into buying something (extremely overpriced), and would not let us leave without doing so.  So I bought a figurine or two, but apparently was not good enough.  The lady gave my gifts to be wrapped to her friend who refused to give me my purchase until I bought something from her shop.  I understand that these women did not have much money or get frequent business, but this was not the way to get me to buy something.  I would say that I felt bad for literally pulling my BOUGHT goods from the woman's kung fu grip, but I didn't.  I was becoming a nat myself, haunting the very steps of the Shwezigon, pillaging and plundering...but not really.  I just wanted my little jade elephant.  So after finally gathering everyone from the shopowners, and listeing to kung fu lady tell me how much she was not happy and that her butterfly present obviously meant I owed her $20 worth of lacquerware, we headed out.  I must have cursed us, because Kaizer's chain fell off his bike as soon as he got on.  We spent an extra 20 minutes with the butterfly ladies.  At this point I was ready to unleash more evil spirits, so I rode my little basket bike around the Paya a few times to cool off in the scorching Burmese heat.  I felt bad (a little) when the lady kept telling me she didn't like me.  But I guess I just don't like poeple literally grabbing my arm, forcing me to sit and not get up until I bought something, and then get my purchase stolen.  Oh well, sabai sabai.  So we pushed on, and headed towards Old Bagan, where most of the larger stupas stood.

Riding through Bagan was amazing.  Words can not really describe the feelings as you ride down windy bumpy roads passing horse carts and villagers surrounded by giant orange lit temples.  We stopped frequently, as I love exploring temples, at nearly every stupa or chedi we passed.  It was as if we were the first to stumble across the site, with no tourists, no fees, no guards, no gates, no 'do not climb' signs, no anything...just you, nature, and history.  We explored all day, with a stop in a local village for some food.  After enjoying some fried rice, we set off to find Shwesandaw Paya for a good sunset.  After being lost for a good while, we found the white Paya completly deserted, apart from the few painting sellers and children selling postcards.  Here Martha played with the children as she always did.  She carried along a grocery bag full of pencils and school supplies to give out, which everyone loved her for it.  Kaizer sat at the bottom of the chedi talking Bollywood and Shahrukh Khan to some local vendors.  With India just west of Bagan, India flexes some of its Bollywood soft power.  While everyone chatting, Shannon and I took advantage not a single tourist and climed Shwesandaw, to a magnificient view.  It was so quiet...until the tour buses showed up.  Right around sunset, hordes of buses and taxis destroy the grass around the temple, letting off obnoxious ankle biting univited guests.  I didn't mind that everyone wanted to see a great view of a great ancient city.  I did mind the demeanor and etiquette of most of the poeple.  I found it disgusting to find women in tank tops and short hooker skirts smoking and drinking on a century old sacred temple.  I found it obnoxious when peopel would follow and take pictures of devoutees who were actually there to pray, circling the layers of the Paya.  I even saw these same people with lonelyplanet guidebooks.  I have one, and one of the first things it mentions is that Burma is NOT Thailand, and you must be conservative and respectful, especially around sacred sites.  I wish the ancient nats would have pushed the full moon party tank topped girls with cans of beer down the stairs of the temple...but that wuold be bad karma, and I wouldn't have wanted that.  And of course, as soon as everyone finished their booze, cigarettes, and jumping pictures, they all immediately left.  The tours may have only been there for maybe a half hour.  It was great...we had Shwesandaw to ourselves once again.  The nats worked.  However, staying as long as we did presented us the difficutl task of biking home in the dark.  And remember, electricity is unpredictable.

So obviously, the street lights on the only main road went out occasionally, making it difficult to ride a bike and shine a flashlight.  And of course, my bike would get a nasty flat tire.  Luckily, two locals we met earlier in one of the temples, who really liked Bollywood (good for us), came motorbiking by and saw we needed help.  Breakdowns are extremely common, and they had a repair kit ready.  It took about a half hour to patch up the multiple punctures from the thorn bush I decided to run over earlier.  Kaizer and I held lights to the bike (as the street lights were out), while Shannon talked to some kids and Martha drew some portraits for one of the little boys.  Since tourism is the only industry in Bagan, many of the children familiarize themselves in various languages.  I talked to a girl who spoke 12 different languages...in french.  I bought a set of post cards from her for a dollar.  Most vendors sell hand made paintings, which we bought our fair share of.  But they are incredible.  So after the repair, we had dinner across from our guesthouse, had a few Mandaly Blues and called it an early night.  After all, we were getting up for sunrise. 

Kaizer had met a horse cart driver the day before and had arranged us two carts from Mr. Aye and Koko.  We rolled out of bed around 4 to be greated by Mr. Aye, Koko, Lucky, and Rambo (the horses).  Kaizer and Martha rode with the beetle leaf chewing red teeth Mr. Aye and Lucky, while we were with the young and quiet Koko and Rambo.  Kaizer and his driver were chatting up a storm during the cold Bagan morning, while we stayed quiet, enjoyng the peace and avoided bug splats in our face.  We had to have been the only people out.  Roads were completely deserted, and the only sounds were the clanking of Rambo's feet.  All the tourists must stay in New Bagan, which has more upscale accomodation, where as we felt like the only travelers in Nyaung U.  We reaced our destination after twisting and turning down dark dusty roads with the silouettes of temples and chedis all amongst the mist.  We were the first to reach the temple, and we climbed inside with flashlight in hand.  I finally felt like Indiana Jones.  We climbed a few flights of stairs in the dark to be greeted by the cool breeze that pushed its way across the Bagan plain.  We sat and waited at the top for the sun to rise.  Again, words cannot describe the feeling of being up on that temple, gazing acroass a thousand temples, with the sun rising above them all.  It was like looking at a Nat Geo magazine, something you only see on TV.  The near silence added to the affect, with only faint sounds of birds and wind in the background.  The world had seemed to have stopped.  No worries. No thoughts.  Just beauty...                       

So after spending as much time as we wanted, we were ready to set off on a most excellent adventure on our horse carts.  This was by far our favorite day, as it was so relaxing to just sit and ride throughout the deserted temples.  It was only until sunset again, when we encountered the tourist buses from New Bagan.  Sunset was not as good as the previous night, as it was much cloudier.  It didn't matter, the relaxation of the carts and the nice breeze made up for it.  Even by the afternoon, Koko was much more talkative.  We obvioulsy talked a ton about football, especially Barca, and also discussed how schools run there and such.  I was curious to see what a country such a Burma would teach students as far as world history or philosophy.  I was not brave enough to ask him his political views.  We had been warned that there are certain off limit topics of conversation with poeple, such as politics, the government, or anything bad that goes on.  It is highly punishable.  So after an amazing day of sunrises, dirt roads, and hrose carting, we ate at an italian resteraunt lit up by the nearby Shwezigon where we taught the owner how to make garlic bread.  Though she baked a slice of bread with an actual pice of garlic on it, it turned out well, and told her to place it on the menu...i think she actually did.  Again we went to bed early, for the next day we headed back to Rangoon for some Shwedagon action at sunrise. 

That morning, we pretty much did nothing, except eat some free breakfast and wait for the matress padded pickup truck to take us to the bus station.  I could have honestly gone the whole way on that truck.  Yeah, it was an old and stained matress, but you could stratch out and feel the open breeze.  Probably not too safe though.  So Kaizer Shannon and I left Bagan knowing we would definately make it back to such an amazing place, as we did not want to leave.  Martha was fortunate enough to spend a few more days there, as she was staying in Burma for a few weeks.  Thus, we boarded our bus...sober this time. 

We arrived in the confusion that is the Rangoon highway bus station around 3am.  We drudged around until we found a little food shop where we had some khao suei and some pastries.  At around 4 we grabbed a rickety cab to crab Rangoon's greatest site -- the Shwedagon Palace. 

Kipling called it "a golden mystery...a beautiful winking wonder. As the setting sun casts it last rays on the soft orange dome of the great Shwedagon Paya, you can feel the magic in the air.  In the heat of the day, the stupa glitters bright gold.  It can be quiet and contemplative, or colorful and raucous.  The Golden Dragon is the essence of Myanmar, and a place that never fails to enchant."  The legend of Shwedagon is that two brothers wer given eight strands of Buddha's hair to take back and enshrined in Burma.  The Shwedagon is said to have those hairs inside its golden bell shaped chedi...

Searching for Buddha hair, we arrived well before sunrise at the grand palace.  We removed our shoes, and enjoyed some marble under our feet.  We hiked up several stairs before catching a glimpse of the glimmering Pagaoda.  The courtyard is surrounded by shrines and glowing Buddhas, with a neon vegas-like wheel around each head.  I believe it is the dhamma wheel, which is the Big Man's teachings of the path to enlightenment.  Anyways, they had me enlightened.  The lights drew me closer, as it seemed like a vegas style wheel of fortune that I wanted to put a coin into.  It was fairly crowded, with devout monks and worshipers circling and praying.  It truely was magical.  Everything was glowing in the pitch black sky as we circled with worshipers around and around.  Monk chanting and drum beating gave me chills as I paced over the cold marble.  We perched oursleves on a ledge, as we found the perfect place to watch the sun rise above the clouds and through the shrines next to the giant golden bell.  Like most of these sights, words or even pictures really cannot describe what we saw or how we felt.  We spent a good couple hours circling and just contemplating life aruond this magnificient structure.  Finally, it was time to go.  We snagged a cab back to the airport for five bucks and hung out at the Rangoon airport for a few hours before returning back to the Land of Smiles.  But I felt that the real Land of Smiles was the one we were leaving.  

Everything about Burma was fantastic: the people, the food, the art, the sites, the history, the lifestyle -- a perfect blend of a unique and wonderful culture...something you don't find traveling the same backpacker routes throughout the region.  It's off the normal path of travelers, where you won't find a Pub or Bar street.  You will get the historical sites in the day without the ping pong shows and mushroom shakes at night.  You can go tubing and drink all the Beer Lao you can in Vang Vieng, or get buckets at Angkor What in Siem Reap and think that's culture...but if you want a real experience, go to Burma, enough said.  

Lessons Learned: Burma
- Do not drink before a 10 hour bus ride
- Burmese roads live up to their expectations
- Black markets aren't so bad
- Barcelona is still awesome
- Do not accept butterflies from anyone
- Do not ride over thorns
- Don't walk under bats
- Beer from authoritarian countries tend to be the best

Countdown in Koh Chang

"The night sky always looks better under a palm tree."

Who doesn't enjoy an ice cold Chang?  We thought we could celebrate Thailand's favorite beverage by visiting the island itself.  So, for New Years Eve 2553, we planned a trip to the most eastern island of Koh Chang.  We actually may have also been part of the very few who actually remembered their New Years on the island.  About a week prior to leaving, we booked our van ride from the airport.  It was a straight shot all the way to the beach we planned on staying at -- Lonely Beach.  We did not have to worry about getting our own ferry ride and taxi once on the island.  Perfection.  Everything went smoothly, as we made a few stops to let off a russian family at a place that I wouldn't even feel worthy of stepping foot in, and another to drop off a pair of clueless backpackers searching for the first sangsom bucket any Thai-rasta would slam in their faces.  We were finally dropped off at our luxurious Siam Hut Resort.  However, being New Years, most bungalows will not take reservations, so we relied on the 'pray and hope for the best approach' and attempted to secure our hut on arrival.  At first, the plan failed, as we were too early for the party residents of Lonely Beach.  We finally reserved a hut after I sniped a french couple checking out.  I quickly snagged their hut, and the infamous C26 bungalow was ours for the next 5 days.  Victory...sort of.  Who doesn't love a stilted bamboo hut with slits to the ground, bee hives, gecko infested, concrete walled bucket flush squat toilet with no towels or teepee?  Well, we do.  And it was awesome.  It makes you really appreciate the simplicity of living.  I even enjoyed the cows who lingered outside our porch and left us pleasant smelling presents every morning.  Despite the humorous conditions of our home for the next week or so, we made the best of it.  Since it was 'winter', we barely needed the fan at night, as it became pretty chilly for a beach front hut.  Sucks for those who paid hundreds of baht extra for air-con rooms.

So everyday seemed like deja-vu, as we never left Lonely Beach.  It was too relaxing and convenient.  Siam Hut sported around 60 or so bungalows, with a giant porch/patio/restaurant that looked over the Gulf.  Perfection at its finest.  We spent most of our time on this porch, whether it was eating pancakes, cashew chicken, and khao pad gai, or falling asleep listening to the newest Buddha Bar release.  One interesting aspect of this porch was observing its travelers.  I swear in one day, without adjusting my triangular floor chair, we would hear at least 10 different languages.  Some were a pleasure to listen to, such as mesmerizing scandinavian languages that we confused for bad french or german, to the most obnoxious typical american flousies.  I never realized how much I love not being able to understand people sometimes.  In South East Asia, very few speak english, so I never consciously here others speak.  But when traveling sometimes, I realize how annoying and stupid people can really be at times, especially after a few drinks.  And especially if I can understand them.  Don't get me wrong, I've had my fair share of stupidity while under the shminfluence.  Some of the things that we heard were best explained (I know this is corny) in the movie, The Beach.  He claims that everyone is always trying to "do something different, but in the end, we all end up doing the same 'f*@%king' thing.  As an expat, traveling around SEA, I expect to find something new and different every experience.  What I found in Koh Chang, and sometimes in Bangkok, is that everyone has this same idea of exploration and travel, but in a different sense.  It depends on personalities, I'm sure.  But it seems as if most who travel in this region are out for the cheap drinks and tricks (if you know what I mean).  No one tells stories of the humbleness of the side street food stall cook who 'wai-ed' in respect on your way out, or the sound of early morning waves crashing the beach and amount of stars visible in the dusk sky.  They tell stories of how crazy a ping-pong show was after ecstasy, beer, and cocaine, or how many mushroom buckets they consumed before passing out on the beach.  It is a shame sometimes.  This is not true for all, but this is many of the stories you will here conversing with or eavesdropping on backpackers leaving their marks on Khao San Road or Full Moon Parties.  Don't get me wrong, I love backpacking, and enjoy cheap drinks, but what happened to modesty?  Anyways, this is a completely different issue.  Back to elephant island.

Each day we woke up very early, maybe 8-9ish.  It was nice that everyone was hours away from even beginning to nurse their hangovers.  So Lonely Beach was actually lonely.  One day we rented a kayak for an hour and voyaged further south to the next tiny village.  Our kayak ride was about the most exercise we engaged in all week, as we lounged around every other day.  But that was exactly what we came there to do.  We ate at the restaurant for almost every meal and usually watched the two feature films they put on a make-shift projector at night.  We were so lame that we were usually in bed before 11 each night.  I know, we suck...party poopers.  But the early morning walks on the freshly vacant tide ridden beach was well worth it.  However, New Years was a bit different.

Siam Hut is known for its major parties on the weekends, bringing in DJs and setting up a stilted stage over the rising tide.  We relaxed the entire day as we watched the preparation for he debauchery that was to come.  The night began with some chill house music before the crowds reached.  We posted up at our usual table on the edge looking over the water.  After having some barbeque, the night was upon us.  We ordered a typical bucket from the happy hour special from the newly opened beach bar.  We people watched until the crowds arrived and the fire shows began.  The shows started with the typical twirling batons, and progressed to ringed hoops for drunks to jump through and fire jump rope.  Unfortunately, I had not had enough to drink, otherwise, I may have tested my agility and flung my already toasted body through a flaming hoop of death.  But we decided to spectate.  The music was good, the drinks were flowing, and the fireworks began.  Since this is Thailand, there are no safety precautions.  Giant 4th of July type fireworks were fired off right from the beach directly above us.  One problem.  No countdown.  For a country that actually calls its New Years "Countdown", I expected some sort of countdown.  But no, we relied on my cell phone to figure out that new years was upon us.  After lounging a bit more, watching people begin to fall over each other, we decided to call it a night.  But, one problem...someone stole Shannon's sandals.  Since the party was taking place at our resort, the entire area flocked to Siam Beach.  And when you enter anywhere in Asia, it is common to take off your shoes.  So obviously, we left our sandals on the step of the porch area (as everyone does).  But among the hundreds of drunken farang, sandals are bound to get stolen.  Shannon just got unlucky, or some drunk bitch liked her ballin' yellow kicks and had to have them.  Things went downhill from there, as we scoured the debauchery that was Lonely Beach.  It felt like a scene from a movie, as we pushed our way through people incoherently singing while leaning on friends discussing how much they drank, all while trying to hold the urge from vomiting.  People were shouting, breaking bottles on rocks, pissing in the ocean, not even realizing that the clock had already struck midnight.  And we never found the yellow sandals.  Luckily, we had a few drinks in our systems, and were able to sleep to the trance beats that thumped till 7am.  There is nothing like sleeping to a constant bass line beat in a wooden hut on the beach.  Seriously, its relaxin...to some.  Trippy dreams.

Since we crashed so early the previous night, we didn't see a soul until almost 3pm the next day.  We explored a rocky stretch of beach near the north end of Lonely Beach where we found solitude.  Although, I wasn't able to spend to much time in the sun, as I had already surpassed lobsters in color.  Hello permanent skin damage.  We stayed away from our beach, as it was a disaster, with chairs, broken Singha bottles, and passed out scandinavians lining the shores.  After our usual routine of lounging on the deck and the occasional nap, our last night arrived.  But, as lazy as we were, we ended up watching the two movies and hitting the hut early.  The next morning we gathered our things and headed back on what seemed to be the longest van ride ever.  We stopped numerous times for gas and rest...it was only a 5 hour drive.  The driver had to be distracted by an Italian couple sitting in front of us because he seemed to not have gotten enough sleep and was dozing off.  Not a good thing on a Thai highway.  We finally made it back to the airport, where we were only a short airport link ride and cheap cab fare away from our Baan Onnuch home.  Back to reality, at least for Shannon.  I never really do any work, i guess.  Just the occasional paper on beer or culture.  But 40 pages is a lot on beer, right?  The hardest part about it is limiting the amount of beer consumed while writing.  But that can also be said about these blogs, too.  Haha.

Overall, our New Years trip was amazing.  It was the most relaxing and stress free trip we've had.  Everything went smoothly.  A success, and we remember it all!

Lessons learned: Koh Chang
- squat toilets are good work outs
- i still will never understand scandinavian languages
- kayaking is a lot harder than it looks
- rocks with barnacles are sharp
- palm trees + stars = amazing
- hide your sandals for safekeeping
- do not fall asleep in the Thai sun
- pancakes are good anywhere      

           

Lopburi

Last Wednesday we took a day trip to the oldest city in Thailand, Lopburi.  I wanted to see the temples of the second largest city of the ancient kingdom, while Shannon wanted to see the infamous monkeys that guard these temples.  We took the cheapest train in the morning and arrived three hours later.  Since we forgot our map, we first wandered about the train station.  Surprisingly, we were not greeted by swarms of tuk-tuk drivers an taxis trying to get a fare.  There was only one or two old rickshaw drivers lounging in the carts sleeping the day away.  There really is no need for them since everything is within walking distance.  We wandered up and down a few streets without seeing any of these monkeys we had heard of.  We reached a point we had no idea where we were going.  But luckily, we found a town map next to a bus stop.  After clicking a photo for reference, we set on our way to the monkey temple.  We knew we were getting close when we spotted a little one gnawing on a seat of a new vespa.  As I laughed, the owner ran out yelling with a broom to chase the little guy away.  We followed the monkeys right up to the entry gates.    Since Shannon has a work permit and I have a Thai student ID card, we got Thai prices, which saved us 40 baht.  So I guess duel pricing isn't always that bad.

The best part of this ancient city is the Khmer temple Prang Sam Yot.  However, it is more famously known for its monkeys, or as they call them, crab-eating macaques.  Where they find these mysterious crabs in a central Thailand town is beyond me?  I believe there are several variations of the name, and the original comes from the Philippines, where crabs actually roam.  Either way, Prang Sam Yot looks much bigger in pictures, but the monkey business is worth it.  We cautiously walked around the temple at first, keeping distance between our little distant cousins.  But of course, Shannon had to touch.  She found a group of baby macaques, and decided to sit down on a nearby ledge.  Curiosity finally got the better of the clever creatures, as they crept closer until they finally clung to Shannon's back.  After receiving a much needed hair cleaning, it was time to shake off the monkey.  However, the little guy was not happy with the decision, so a tiny bite was necessary.  We had heard that you should get rabies shots if you are bitten, which apparently cost a ton of bahtage here.  Luckily, the skin was not broken.  So no harm, no foul...and more importantly, no fees.  We met a couple of American travelers who lived in the south and chatted for a bit as we continued to walk the temple grounds.   They led us inside the temple where we became the creatures on display.  The monkeys crowded around the gated windows, as they are not allowed into the temple.  Inside, a Spanish Thai guide (yeah, a spanish speaking Thai tour guide -- weird to see and hear), gave us some food (not crabs) to feed the starving macaques.  When we returned outside, I decided I needed to get my picture taken with a monkey on my back.  So I crept up to the closest ledge held out my hands, and let one climb up my back.  My hair must also have been dirty, because he went right to work, as if I were his relative.  It actually felt kinda good, until he starting pulling out my hair.  Then it was time to go.

After about an hour in the planet of the apes, we stopped by a restaurant called the Butterfly House.  Sounds like an establishment you might find on Soi Cowboy back in Bangkok, but the oddly named place had decent food.  It is run by an old crazy white-haired British guy.  I am going to assume he had a Thai wife (and bad teeth).  After an american breakfast and spaghetti carbonara, we walked back to the train station, where it unexpectedly rained.  We made a usual stop at 7-11 for some the usual ham cheese sandwich and chicken sausage bun.  Our train left shortly after, and we arrived back in Bangkok just in time for rush hour traffic, although that can be any time of day.

Lessons learned: Lopburi
- do not let big monkeys jump on you
- do not feed monkeys until inside temple
- enjoy the free massages (may come with lice)

Oooh-La-Laos...

So as I sit here and try to write a thesis paper on south east asian beer culture, I figure I should blog about the country with presumably the best tasting beer in the region.  If I had to sum up our brief Laos trip in one word, it would have to be "interesting."  In my opinion, there was no middle ground for the enjoyment of Vientiane...as we had one awful 'Murphy's law' day, and one good day.

The purpose for this Vientiane run was to finally make Shannon a temporary resident.  She had all her paperwork, so we thought, to obtain her swanky little non-immigrant B visa stamp.  Getting to Laos is fairly cheap and simple.  We booked our tickets to the border town in Thailand, Nong Khai, from Mo Chit northern terminal, which can be very overwhelming if you can't read thai.  After waiting endlessly in the station, we finally boarded our home for the next ten hours.  It was an interesting ride.  It is always hard to sleep on buses, no matter how 1st class or VIP they may seem.  They always serve you water and a snack, followed by an awful american action film in thai.  After the bootlegged movie stopped working half way through, we were finally able to try and sleep.

We arrived bright and early in Nong Khai, where we were greeted by the annoyances of hung over tuk-tuk drivers trying to bargain a overpriced deal.  We got a decent price after some haggling skills.  Of course, the driver tried to get us in on buying visas before the friendship bridge by taking us to a side shop near the river.  It was obvious what was happening and we immediately told him to start that three wheeled piece of shit and take us to the real visa office.  He laughed, knowing we were on to the gig, and proceeded to the infamous friendship bridge.  While waiting in line, we befriended two old men who   live by visa runs...if they were smart they would just get a retirement visa.  They were old enough.  They had both been making Laos border runs for years.  However, it is just a matter of time before the socialists will give you their red stamp in your passport, denying entry for life (unless you marry a resident of Thailand or Laos, of course).  These two were even nice enough to split a cab into town on the other side of the bridge.  However, getting a cab with two guys in their 70s is apparently harder than you think.  After picking one and negotiating a price, we headed to Vientiane.  We were all going to the Thai embassy, which made things easier.  It seems that the embassy is the most popular place in the entire city.  So after waiting about an hour in embassy, which is outside, Shannon finally presented her coveted documents.  However, her school left out one sheet of paper that was necessary to obtain this visa.  There was absolutely nothing we could do.  She immediately called her school.  There was obviously no service, so we took an extremely overpriced tuk-tuk to a guesthouse.  It should be noted that Laos uses three currencies -- kip, baht, and dollars.  So when we arrived at our guesthouse, the driver tried to tell me the price we agreed on was per person, which for one it was outrageous.  He complied.  But when I gave him baht, he said he didn't have change in baht, so he gave me kip.  I am not an idiot, and I knew what the exchange rate was.  I demanded more kip.    He tried stalling as long as possible, to get us to just forger about it.  We were having nothing of it.  I showed him my angry eyes and he magically found the fifty baht I asked for.  It was in the hidden compartment of his wallet.  Now who keeps money in a wallet?

So when we got settled into the hotel, Shannon was able to contact the school.  They were confused and wanted her to go back to the embassy and bring a copy of the document needed.  Since it was 11:15, and the embassy closed at noon, we had to deal with another overpriced tuk-tuk ride.  When we arrived the gate was closed and the guard was denying people entry.  He said we needed numbers, which are only obtainable inside.  After arguing, they completely ignored us.  Finally a man brushed against me and whispered "you buy ticket".  At that moment, I realized what was going on.  We had to pay off the guard for a ticket to get into an embassy that was already open.  When a random lady handed us a ticket (which cost 100 baht), the guard let us right through, knowing exactly what was going on.  I guess that's corruption in SEA at its finest.  Again, though, the embassy could not do anything about the paper and even ignored Shannon at the counter.  At this point we were both so frustrated, that we just wanted to go back to Bangkok.

To cheer up a little, we had lunch at a mexican restaurant near of place.  It was delicious, and we enjoyed it with the only redeeming quality of Laos at the time -- Beer Laos. Beer Laos uses himalayan spring water, german barley, and french hops...they aren't messing around.  However, again, I paid in baht and received two different currencies in return.  The confusion led us to just forget it and leave.  Later, after doing some math, realized we were short changed.  But that was expected by that point.  Later that night we had a relaxing good dinner at an outdoor restaurant.  But again, it was probably because I had my favorite person by my side that made the night better...and Beer Lao.  We salvaged our night by walking around the festival that was taking place along the Mekong.  Luckily, Vientiane shuts down by eleven, so we were able to call it an early night.

As you can see, that was our bad day...now, the good day...

As we never wanted to experience another Lao tuk-tuk, we decided to walk everywhere (which is possible).  We walked up the main street, Lane Xiang I believe, and ventured up Patuxay, a momument built by the french to resemble the Arch de Triumph.  We got to see a decent view of the city before we headed down the same road towards That Luang.  The long walk in the rain was well worth it, as we gazed upon the giant golden temple.  After exploring the grounds for a bit, we headed back towards the bus station.  There, with all the confusion, we somehow managed to get aboard the right bus.  This bus ride was by far the most interesting and awesome mode of transportation I've experience so far.  We crammed about 20 people into a bluish van that only sat about 10.  I'm pretty sure our window fell out a few times while driving down the streets of Vientiane.  Once out of the city, there are only semi-paved roads with pot holes the size of elephants.  It was seriously a roller coaster ride with no seatbelts.  Our destination, you might ask -- Buddha Park.  This was probably the best part of our trip.  It is a sculpture park dedication to Buddha, obviously.  However, the monuments and statues seem extremely old.  Yet, they were built only a few decades ago.  What made the park better, was that we could climb on everything.  After exploring the adult playground of Buddhas, we grabbed some snacks and shared the same local bus back to the city.  We were accompanied by a few backpackers, locals, and animals.  One lady had the fuzziest little puppy in a bag.  On this ride, I realized...this is Laos...and this was exactly what I was searching for out of this country; trying to eat a thai brand of cheesy bugles while avoiding flying out the window despite listening to crazy old people talk over a yelping dog in a bus packed with literally someone's food stand.  The bus even stopped at the friendship bridge.  And wouldn't you believe it, we ran into Bob, one of the geezers we met during the embassy fiasco.  He was wandering the streets of Nong Khai with a friend he randomly found.  They showed us a bit of the town, touring some markets along the river.  We ate an early dinner and enjoyed some good stories over some chang and archa before their bus left.

We had finally made it through the weekend, so we thought.  We awoke to the bus stopped in the middle of the highway, with literally a river running through it.  We had to inch our way through the floods.  It was extremely dangerous.  We even saw a tanker truck half way submerged on its side in the median.  So the normal 10 hour ride took actually about 12 hours.  Bangkok never looked so good.

Lessons learned: Laos
- no tuk-tuks, just walk
- prostitutes are NOT allowed in guesthouses
- hold on to hand rails (not door knobs) on bus bathrooms
- Buddha saves the day
- use one currency
- beer Lao...enough said
 

Mot, Hai, Ba, Yoooo...Vietnam

Our second visa run took us to the unlikely destination of Vietnam.  The cheapest flight through Air Asia happened to be to Saigon for that weekend.  So why not, right?  Once you are in Vietnam, everything is cheap; however, the process to get into Nam is quite a hassle and expensive (but definitely worth it).  We had to scramble during the week to apply for our visas on arrival, which included an online application ($25) and another fee at the airport ($25).  We had to wait for the embassy to approve our entry via email...print the verification and bring several photos to the airport.  It took about twenty minutes before we received our sweet looking full page communist stamps.  So, we had arrived...

We knew that Vietnamese make a living of ripping people off, its just what they are good at.  And since everything is so cheap to farang, everything still sounds good.  But having lived in Asia for some months, we knew what was reasonable, and what wasn't.  Or so we thought.  We do not entirely know how much or far the train station was from the airport.  We planned to see if we could find a day train to our destination -- Nha Trang.  So, instead of trying to haggle with a cab or take the chance of getting a rigged meter (very common), we decided to take a fixed price cab to the station.  Of course the lady at the counter was nice and sincere and told us that the station was about 35 minutes away.  We got the price down to about 8 dollars, which isn't back home.  However, our 150,000 dong 35 minute fixed cab ride turned out to really only be a 15 minute 60,000 dong ride (we discovered on the way back of course).  I guess I just didn't expect a legitimate open counter cab company (all of which were women employees) to rip us off.  Assholes.  But oh well, this was Vietnam after all, so anything goes.  So Saigon is an interesting place, especially the driving.  I wouldn't say it is as bad as a city like Cairo, but it was insane.  No traffic lights, four way intersections, no rules, no lanes, thousands of motorbikes, and constant honking.  I don't get it...vietnamese honk just to honk.  They honk just to say 'hey' or 'i'm driving'.  Even some blinkers make noises.  It didn't make sense that cars try to drive on the left side of lanes while bikes drive on the right.  So when cars want to make a right turn and bikes want to go left, you most likely have an accident.  It's no surprise that the leading cause of death in Vietnam was traffic accidents (30 deaths a day, apprx.).  However, the way you cross roads are the same as Cairo.  You put yourself out there and try as hard as you can to remember your excellent Frogger skills from long ago.  However, there is no continue button in this game.  

So when we arrived at the train station, we checked to see the availability.  Luckily there was a train leaving around 11 or so.  So we booked our sleeper berths (beds) in a four berth cabin.  After eating we boarded a diesel railcar that looked decades old.  However, the cabin was nice, and there was no one else in our cabin.  We relaxed for the seven hour journey through the Vietnamese countryside, occasionally (often) being woken up by the sound of what seemed to be something breaking down of the train.  We figured we would take our chances with a cab when we arrived at the station in Nha Trang.  So when we disembarked the train and headed through the dingy metal gates that were the exit, we were bombarded with about 30 or so cabbies (who again, were all my friends apparently).  I felt like a celebrity coming out of my limo on the red carpet.  I had seriously no idea what to do...I would have liked to have a bidding war and have chosen the best price, but that didn't happen.  Luckily there were a few other travelers to ease our burden of fame.  So I choose one of them, and asked a thousand times to make sure he uses the meter.  He did, and everything went smoothly.  We got charged a bit more because our guy decided it would be nice to take a longer scenic route.  But how would I have known, since I had never been there.  But he did, our hotel owner told us.  So we lost another dollar.  

Our hotel (Tide Hotel) was about 2km north of Nha Trang.  The city center or tourist area is double the price and everyone there will rip you off.  However, the area we stayed in was amazing, as it was entirely local, with everything in normal vietnamese prices.  Our place was really nice, with two queen size beds, tv, air-con, private bathroom, and balcony that looked out over the bay.  However, the balcony turned out to be detrimental, as it was on the street were drivers just like to make it known they exist by honking their damn horns.  And everyone is up and about early in the morning; therefore, we were as well.  The soothing sound of our fan and ocean breezes were deafened by the pleasant sounds of concrete trucks and muffler-less motorbikes.  The owner, Owen, was a character.  First of all, he was Canadian.  He was super welcoming and super nice, and showed us around the little neighborhood and helped us with food and activities.  He had been living in Vietnam for years with his Vietnamese wife Mai, whom he said used to live in Canada (which is where they met).  I think he just didn't want to admit he came to SEA like most of the out of shape older western men do.  But again, he was very helpful.  He actually took us and a german couple to a little restaurant (or what they call restaurants) for dinner and beer upon our arrival.  These side eateries consist of little tables and playskool chairs, where everyone eats outside, somewhat on the street.  This place actually became our favorite eating spot, as an entire meal and a few jugs of beer were under 5 dollars.  Since everything was in english we just picked dishes.  Shannon got an amazing meal called my xiao bo (beef with noodles), while I was stuck eating a whole fried chicken (cam with burnt feathers as well).  But it was good, I go it again at a different place the next night.  We sat and told stories with this german couple and listened to Owen tell crazy stories about himself and how he's been robbed by ladyboys (not something I would brag about, but oh well).  We went through a jug of beer hoi each, and decided to call it a night.  Beer hoi may be our favorite beer thus far in SEA.  It comes in kegs but is made to only last for a few hours, so it goes bad by the end of the night.  And they say that beer is cheaper than water in Vietnam...well, they are right.  Which sucks sometimes if you just want some ice cold water in the heat. But I won't complain if I have to have a beer hoi at midday.  This was a picture of our jug of hoi and what was left of some my xiao bo.  Haha, also, you get these little pieces of paper (in the beige cup) for napkins...you use them, then throw them on the ground.  The vietnamese never really think towards the future and are much more lax then Thais (vietnamese time), which is why nothing really gets accomplished.  They just wipe down the place and street later (when the get around to it).  

So the next day we ate at this stall that was recommended by Owen (somehow I believe he was getting commission from these people).  But still super cheap and local.  We ate baguettes with egg, soy, and cilli sauce on the inside.  Delicious.  And only 50 cents (at least there, I had to haggle for one at the train station the next day).  We spent the morning walking with ze germans, as they wanted to go see a local market.  The market was just like any other one, just dirtier and everyone looked at us like we weren't supposed to be there.  Although we couldn't help but look like tourists as the german girl took photos of women chopping up meat with her huge slr camera.  Not obvious at all.  After the market we walked along our stretch of beach where we found a dead dog and a dirty diaper.  Awesome, right?  At least that dog wasn't on the menu (yet), as most places serve dog meat as a main course (hold your ears Stella).  So we realized our beach wasn't that nice.  Although we found a stretch where it was nice enough to lay out and get in the warm water of the South China Sea.  That night we ate at this big open air restaurant.  I again got a fried chicken, and missed out on another beef meal that Shannon enjoyed.  So obviously we had to go back and get some at our favorite place.  I ordered some my xiao bo and bia hoi and was satisfied.  After we chilled with some more beer out in front of our hotel with the german couple and some new friends from Ireland.  I also talked to one of the staff, who was just a teenager.  We talked about football and life in Vietnam, and watched as young ones would try and rent a room for an hour next door (a very common practice - they call them love hotels).  Since entire families live in one house in Vietnam, there is no privacy when it comes to adult practices, so both adults and young adults can rent rooms at most hotels for the hour whenever.  Even Owen rents, but the bastard charges them for a full night.  The staff kid, Luan, told me that he attends a english tourism school just next door.  He had some ambition, which most lack, and wanted to own his own hotel some day.  He only made about 8 dollars a week working for Owen, which was sad...but he was happy, and we enjoyed his company.  Again, like Penang, its the interesting people you meet where you stay that make trips memorable.  He even told stories of people getting robbed, when motorcycle cowboys would snatch bags from tourists backs, or snatch phones right from some ones ear on the street.  Both the irish and german couple had been robbed in Saigon...on the street and on a night bus.  With that, we decided to not spend much time in Saigon the next day, as our train left that night.

After checking out of the hotel, we headed to the main tourist area...dun, dun, duuun.  The beaches were absolutely immaculate, as the entire town was empty.  We posted up at this place called Lousiana Brewhouse, which had a huge pool with lounge chairs.  It was a bit pricey to eat, but well worth it.  

I could put up more pictures, but it takes to long to upload here, so you can just look on facebook if you really want to see more.  We walked around the backpacker area (nothing special, just overpriced food and moto taxis trying to sell you trips), and the downtown area.  It was interesting just to all the vietnamese flags next to the hammer and sickle flags.  Sometimes it was hard to imagine that I was in a communist country.  But signs were there.  We witnessed schoolchildren going through marching drills from officers on some main streets.  But at least everyone is provided jobs (debatable).  So after wasting the whole day lounging in the same chair for hours, we walked to the train station.  It only took about an hour to get there on foot, but we were still extremely early.  We waited for hours, just to find out the train had been delayed another hour.  We didn't leave until almost 11.  But this was a good thing, as it pushed back our arrival in the early morning.

Our train ride went smoothly, but we were with two other guys in our cabin this time.  The guy across from me was reading a paper highlighting Roma's horrendous start to Serie A.  I happened to be wearing my totti jersey.  He gave me a thumbs up and we spoke broken english until I dosed off.  I was only awoken a few times, mainly due to train technical difficulties.  The other times came from the guy above me who was either having vivid nightmares or snored very weirdly.  He would just shriek out in the middle of the night.  After getting some rest, we arrived around 5 am in Saigon.  Since everyone we had met that had ventured into the city had been robbed, we decided to keep the streak going.  We took a much cheaper cab to the airport where we enjoyed a smog ridden sunrise over the low-rise chaos that is Ho Chi Minh City.  After about 8 hours in the airport, cabin fever kicked in and the loopiness set in.  After watching the sun rise and set at HCMC airport, we were finally allowed to leave our cells of the departure lobby.  Bangkok never looked so good from the air that night.  However, a nasty storm forced our pilot to circle several times before bringing the aircraft down safely.

Lessons learned: Vietnam
- always carry toilet paper
- love your dogs, do not eat them
- spare car horns
- good beer comes in dirty plastic jugs
- canadians talk alot
- do not get robbed
- communism doesn't work

Selemat Datang...Penang

So our first trip out of the land of smiles was to Malaysia.  We needed to flee the country, as Shannon's tourist visa was expiring.  We actually could not even find flights until one day after her visa was up.  We had heard that the process for overstay was to pay a fine.  An intimidating Thai officer would pull you aside after examining documents during the customs process.   Next you would be taken to a small room with dim lighting and padded walls (ok, probably an exaggeration, but it's what I imagine it would be like).  A disgruntled underpaid slob of a customs official would then try to snatch as much money a farang (slang for westerner) could dish out.  The real fine is only 500B, but they would obviously raise their price, and usually there is nothing you can do.  Paying off is becoming a way of life here, especially in these times of political unrest.  There is so much more to that as well.  I wish I could say more, but censorship is an issue here, so I must be careful of what I write.  Anyways, the customs officer must have been in a great mood, and the benefits of a lax and corrupt system paid off.  He shrugged aside the fact that her visa was overdue and just stamped her through.  Gotta love Thailand.

With absolutely no money (as I did not have my loans yet), we did just about everything on a budget in Malaysia.  The ringgit is a lot stronger than the baht, so things were already a bit expensive.  The cab ride would have been around 20 bucks, had we taken one.  We did some research, and we took the local Rapid Penang 102 from the airport to Batu Ferringhi.  Even though there is much to do on this small island, we basically never left our little beach area.  Batu Ferringhi is a small beach resort town.  We stayed at a guesthouse on a dirt road across from the beach.  Now given that it was rainy season and Ramadan, there was no one there.  And I mean no one.  We had the beaches to ourselves, restaurants were usually empty (although we ate street food), and pretty much had the guesthouse to ourselves.  Baba Guesthouse was an interesting place.  Chinese family owned, this place was basically their house with the second floor consisting of one hallway with rooms and a communal bathroom.  No air-con, no hot water...just a room with a bed and a fan.  It was amazing.  It was nice to escape the modernity of Bangkok, and experience simplicity.  We even were cold at night.  We would wake up to the chanting from the Mosque directly behind the house, followed by the sunrise and crashing waves.  There is not a ton to do in Batu Ferringhi, especially when no one is there.  Despite Ramadan, liquor was available, but pricey.  Even though we had no money, we thought it would be nice to do something a little touristy, so we ate at the new Hard Rock Cafe at the Hard Rock Hotel.  And it was worth it, although beef was different in Malaysia.  My favorite spot for food was this middle eastern vendor who sold burgers and hot dogs.  Not only were they aroi mak mak (delicious), they was super cheap.  The other place we ate was an Indian restaurant that had decent meat and played awesome 80s music.  At night, live music came from the empty beach bars.  One night, a two americans, that stayed down the hall, were playing live music with a bunch of locals.  Also, when we first checked in, we signed our names and where we were from...and ironically enough, there was a girl from Missouri staying there, but we never saw her.  Weird, right.

The beach itself was very nice, although the water was murky.  The brown coloration came from the mud and clay on the seabed.  As with any beach, vendors and guys on horses were trying to justify ripping you off by claiming that you are their friend.  I have a lot a friends in Penang apparently.  But for the most part, it was very relaxing.  Most days, we would come back to the guesthouse and sit on the porch at the end of our hall and just sit.  It was soooo relaxing...hearing the waves and listening to birds whistle and monkeys howl.  Yes, that's right...monkeys, the squirrels of Malaysia.  With no money, we wanted to come back to BKK with some sort of meaningful souvenir.  I really wanted a Penang flag.  On our last day Shannon went down to ask the owner if he knew where to buy flags, as we had no luck previously.  He smiled and pulled out a Malay flag and gave it to her, and would not accept any money for it.  The owners were the ones who made the guesthouse and the place a memorable experience.  However, this was only a Malay flag, I needed a Penang one.  So we looked everywhere as we left for the airport on the way to the bus stop.  As we were awaiting the 102 bus, I saw a small convenient store across the way.  We decided to check one last time, not getting our hopes up.   But wouldn't you know it...they had the infamous blue, white, and yellow palm tree flag I had dreamed about.  The trip was a success.  I paraded around the market like an olympic athlete coming into the stadium during an opening ceremony (not really, but I was happy).  I'm sure your feeling...it's just a damn flag, who cares.  We'll I care, and it was the fact we looked everywhere for one.  I almost resulted in asking an Indian street vendor to climb light posts and snatch one down while no one was looking.  I figured that would be illegal, and they take things very seriously in Malaysia.  On your arrival card into the country, it states that if you bring drugs into the country, you will be killed immediately.  Nice welcome.  So after catching the bus back to the airport we waited for our afternoon flight back to Bangkok.
    
On arrival, we took the newly opened airport city link, which is great, since getting a cab to and from Suvarnabumi is ridiculously expensive (Thai standards of course).  Its also a lot safer, as cabbies tend to fly when on the highways.  With only seatbelts and no seat buckles, you just grab on to the person next to you and hold on to something.  You can say slow down to the driver, but he'll usually laugh and speed up.  The best thing is to just close your eyes.  I can't believe these cars can even go that fast, as they are all used corollas or camrys that sound like they have jet engines and are preparing for take off.  Sometimes I already feel that I'm at the airport and the car should just take off and head to my destination.  So basically, what I'm saying is -- take the new link to the city if you can, only 15B.

Lessons learned: Malaysia
- I have a ton a friends in Penang
- flags rule
- Hard Rock Cafes rock everywhere
- The Andaman Sea/Indian Ocean feels like pee water
- 5am Quran reading wake up calls are relaxing
- 80s music is still popular
- public transportation is CHEAP -- use it!
- clever monkeys
-

The Ancient Capital - Ayutthaya

Our first trip within the Land of Smiles was to the ancient capital Ayutthaya.  We had done plenty of research on how to get there, and decided the cheapest way was by train.  So the night before we just planned on getting up and going in the morning to Hua Lumphong train station.  I will probably keep using  station names throughout this (cause it makes things easier on me...sorry), so basically you will have no idea what they mean or where they are.  So I give you this map guide of the transit system.

So there you go.  Anyways, we arrived at the station around 8.  As usual, we wandered aimlessly looking like fools trying to figure out the cheapest way to get there.  Of course, we had people encouraging us to buy air con class tickets for 800B (25$).  That may sound like a good deal back home, but this is Thailand, so let me tell you how much we paid for our real tickets.  We decided to rough it and take the local diesel third class train for 15B one way (20B for the return), which is around a dollar for the entire transport.  My waffle from the street hawker outside the station was more expensive.  However, you pay for what you get.  We were actually surprised we got third class tickets because they tend to only sell them to thais who are poorer.  So obviously, we saw some interesting people on board; people who made you feel uneasy, people who you couldn't take your eyes off of, and people you wished had been farm animals like you see on tv.  Even though we weren't crowded into cars packed with livestock and thai farmers, it still was an interesting ride.  With no air con, all the windows were open and filthy old fans oscillated and threw yesterday's pollution into your face.  With this type of train, it trekked through little villages, farmlands, and shanty towns where you literally could not stick your hand out the window due to the rusted roofs of homes.  The ride only lasted two hours and we headed towards the pier.

Ayutthaya is surrounded by three rivers, and on a map, it looks relatively small -- it is not.  Pretty much the only transportation in the city is tuk-tuks.  These environmental friendly bastards come in a variety of forms, depending on the town, city, province, and country your in, and always try to rip you off.  Here is a showcase of our favorite mode of transportation...and when I say favorite and environmentally friendly, I am being sarcastic.

The infamous Bangkok tuk-tuk!

The Ayutthaya tuk-tuk...comes with smoking greasy driver usually.

Smaller Thai city tuk-tuk...you pay extra for the fourth wheel.

Cambodian tuk-tuks...energy savers.

Malaysian tuk-tuks...even more energy sufficient -- manpower.

And if you wanna split the bill among friends, its best to travel in groups...

...or if you want to die.

Anyways, enough about the mode of cheap transportation in SEA (south east asia).  We normally avoid tuk-tuks at all costs just because they are annoying and overpriced.  You can get cheap rides, but you have to make sure you agree on a price before you go anywhere.  And you must haggle.  It's a way of life here.  So after crossing the river on what seemed like a long piece of wood that they called a ferry, we started our walk.  After about a half an hour walking in the Thailand sun, we realized this place may not be as small as we thought. But we got through it and saw some amazing sites.  The ruins were incredible, and it was not very crowded (pictures on FB if interested).  The Siam civilization used to be one of the largest of its time period in SEA.  They worshiped both buddhist and hindu gods.  In one of the wats (temples), a 19 meter high golden buddha sits.  It is always neat to enter sacred temples, where you must remove your shoes, and everyone is in prayer.  I love the feel of chilly marble on bare feet, I do not know why.  I am obsessed with marble, especially when I can walk on it.  After seeing the main temple complexes, we wanted to see the giant reclining buddha, that basically reclines out in the middle of nowhere.  Buddha is literally facing a road that is near impossible to find and smiles at all the food stands and shanties in front of him.  After being lost for a while, we finally waved down a tuk-tuk and he took us to our destination for a little less than a dollar.  After viewing more similar sites, we took another cab back to the ferry and waited about 3 hours till the next train rolled through.  Even though it was boring waiting for three hours, there is always something to entertain you in Thailand.  We sat in the muggy station, watching stray dogs lick themselves, ladyboys primp themselves, and bikkhus (monks) meditate on themselves.  We always wonder what monks are thinking when they look to be in deep thought.  Why am I wearing a dress again?  Damn, I look good in orange.  Or maybe, who can I send to get me cheap cigs from Loas?  What do they think about?  I am sure its much deeper than the thoughts I spill out to you few lucky readers who spend time actually reading this.  I do have a deep respect for monks, as they live off what is donated to them and spend their entire lives searching for the answers that most people dare not to delve into.  I am excited to learn more about buddhism and their philosophies.  I'll probably start with a book before I go shave my head and pick out the first and last orange suit i'll ever wear.  I think I've spent more time writing this post than our actual trip to Ayutthaya.  So anyways...luckily the train came just in time, as the monsoons struck around there usual time (4pm).   We got back to the station and hopped on one subway train and one skytrain to end or day trip to the ancient capital.  

Lessons learned: Ayutthaya
- you cannot walk the entire city, rent a bike
- dual pricing system blows
- tuk-tuks are alright (when you have no other options)
- buddha is the man
- 3rd class trains are awesome