Thailand, Bangkok: Chatuchak Market, off to Chiang Mai

I'm feeling pretty smug today. I went to the Chatuchak Market today and went through the antiques section--I now have a bow and fish spear for the body painting. I also picked up some sterling silver leaves for a tiara/hairpiece (I'll make it on the train to Chiang Mai), and lots and lots of beads, shells, etc. for my hair. I've also seen a lot of fantastic textile work, but I didn't buy any because I'm going to Chiang Mai, the mother lode for such things.

I have a photo of the bow/fish spear (?) on my website now--it's at http://www.travelingtiger.com/travelingtiger/Bangkok/Bangkok_index.htm

(at the bottom of the page, along with a great photo of Bangkok IMO--beautiful scenery being ruined by massive construction, unfortunately a common theme in Thailand. Economic development is not always benign...)

The bow is bamboo, stained a dark reddish-brown, and is quite pretty. It comes with a small quiver of crudely-fletched arrows. The halberd-thingie I'm not quite sure what it is--the antiques dealer said it was a lance, for fighting on horseback (which seems highly unlikely given the length); the landlady at my guesthouse (Suk11) thinks it's a fish spear. I personally harbor lurking suspicions that it's really a garden hoe, but whatever it is, it looks pretty darn cool. I did go looking for swords, but didn't find any that wouldn't look ridiculous. Besides, swords, unlike garden tools ;-) , are expensive.

So I'm putting the various weaponry in storage while I travel up to Chiang Mai; the shells, leaves, etc., are going with me, so I can work on them while traveling. That should be considerably more benign than the wood-carving craze; at the very least, it won't involve hauling along 20 lbs of wood and another 10 lbs of carving tools.

I had a very interesting conversation with some fellow-travelers this morning. One was a nice IT guy from Brooklyn, who only arrived yesterday and is traveling for three weeks. He's flying up to Chiang Mai tomorrow, which means we should probably arrive at the same time--I'm definitely in a mood for company, so I gave him a card and my cell number, and maybe we'll go poking around Chiang Mai together for a bit.

The other pair are both French (actually I think she might be some other nationality)--they're traveling for three months and just got back from Burma and Laos. Burma sounds absolutely dreadful--basically, they were overcharged for everything, people were frightened to talk to them or even be seen with them (repressive government, right?), and the whole thing just seemed highly choreographed. They were planning to do a month and cut it after ten days. So I think I'll skip Burma.

Laos, on the other hand, is supposed to be wonderful...much like Thailand but quieter, more laid back, and better scenery. So once I finish up body painting I am definitely heading there. I wish I had more time!

They also mentioned that there's an elephant-training place near Lompoc (near Chiang Mai) that takes volunteers. I'm seriously considering it--I'm going to ask the body painter's friend (Phil) if he knows anything about it or anyone there. training a baby elephant could be lots of fun... :-)

anyway, my train leaves in an hour (it's a twelve-hour train ride, so I'm taking a sleeper) so I'd better get to the train station. More once I get to Chiang Mai!

Tien

Thailand, Bangkok: body painting arranged, going to Chiang Mai

First, happy Thanksgiving everyone! I did not actually find turkey in Bangkok (not very common here), but I did stuff myself on a variety of local foods. :-)

Sorry for the radio silence this past week...I was hit by an uncontrollable hunting urge and (since I was stuck in Bangkok anyway) spent most of the week methodically tracking down and purchasing obscure and random items. (People who think women aren't natural hunters have obviously never seen us in the grips of shopping mania. ;-) )

Anyway, I now have a set of woodcarving tools and about 20 lbs of exotic woods (my landlady thinks I'm crazy, but what else is new?), including one chunk of teak, one chunk of something called maka, and one chunk of um, well, *something*. I also have a couple more books on Thai textiles, some homemade origami paper (two sheets of tissue paper sandwiched with heavy-duty aluminum foil), and (thanks to Mary Beth) ten more drop spindle whorls (the first one wore out). Not to mention the charkha-thing.

If you are thinking, "How on earth is Tien going to carry all this around??" --well, so am I. I'm currently having some problems shipping the charkha (spinning wheel), so i'll probably leave the heavier stuff at the guesthouse until I come back to Bangkok for the body painting. By then hopefully I'll have tracked down someone who can ship things for me.

I have also established that I am not moving to Bangkok permanently, though I am thinking about working here for a couple of months--the UN has some very interesting Third-World development projects that need project coordinators, and I think I might be able to talk my way into one of those positions. (Behold project management: a universally portable skill!) Haven't decided yet, will put that off until I'm nearly done traveling. But, inasmuch as there appears to be no Valrhona chocolate anywhere in Bangkok (I've been hopping through the expensive Western-style shopping malls, etc. in search of it), there's no chance I'll settle here permanently. Life without my favorite chocolate just isn't worth it.

(I have a dim memory that La Maison du Chocolat may have a shop in Bangkok. If so, then I might reconsider...but it's really not the same as making your own.)

Meanwhile, I've asked Jim to ship me some. I really should have brought it with me, but...

I've also spun a few more skeins of silk, and gotten a little further on one or two of my essays, but mostly I've just hung around and done not much of anything. It's nice to take some time off from traveling.

But, I'm gearing up to head out again...probably to Chiang Mai. Richard has introduced me to two of his friends up there, one of whom does alternative AIDS therapies (ozone etc.) and one of whom (I kid you not) runs some kind of animal preserve, where she teaches communication with animals, meditation, and communication with space aliens.

Both of them sound like really interesting characters--well worth meeting in their own right--and the alternative AIDS therapy guy also knows a bunch of people in the textile handcrafts business. Ooh! My hands are twitching. Must go talk shop with silkweavers...

So anyway, I had planned to go to Laos, but since I have to be back in Bangkok on Wednesday, and need to be here tomorrow for the Weekend Market, I think I'll probably go to Chiang Mai for a couple of days.

About the body painting: this is shaping up to be really exciting. (Okay, body painting is never dull, but.) We've roughed out a basic design, with a lot of details still to be filled in. Central feature is a pair of hooded monocled cobras running up the torso, with a third cobra as the centerpiece of the "bikini bottom"; above the cobras is some sort of metallic breastplate (gold/bronze), extending out over the shoulders. Arms and legs wrapped in "razor wire" a la Witchblade (with possibly some armored bracelets), not sure yet what we're doing for boots and gloves. If you know interesting superheroes, I still need some. (Handy thing about Spandex: it's body-tight, thus easily duplicated in body painting.)

Haven't decided on face/hair either; one of my tasks for the weekend is to hit the Weekend Market in search of interesting hair ornaments/necklaces/props. Bones, shark teeth, shells, cobra leather, swords/daggers, skulls, ??? --should make for an interesting day of shopping. I also need a tiara/headband of some sort--I really want a circlet with a crescent moon, but I don't think I can find one in Bangkok, at least not on short notice. In San Francisco, of course, it'd be easy, but...

I'm also looking for hand props...suggestions? I'm thinking a curved dagger would be nice, or maybe one of those cheap Chinese sword replicas. Richard keeps suggesting a two-handed sword--I think that might be a bit much, given that they're bigger than I am, but what do you think? Or maybe a nice big thighbone. I don't know where I'd find one of those, but I'm firmly of the belief that you can find (almost) anything in Bangkok.

Anyway, if you have ideas for hand props, let me know.

Colors overall are going to be an antique gold, almost copper (very near the shade we used for the leopard at Burning Man), with brown/black outlining for depth. Should be very nice. (Richard did a quick sketch of it on my arm last night--very cool.)

Looks like we'll have two photographers, too--one who normally does papparazzi work (he's doing it for material cost only, because he thinks it's a really cool artistic idea), and probably a more experienced studio guy. We're currently discussing whether we want a makeup/hair person--I think probably yes. Heaven only knows how much this is going to cost me, but you only live once, right? You don't say no to adventure. :-)

At any rate, after a week of hiatus, the adventure is on again. I just hope the foot holds up; I've been trying to rest it this week, but it's still a bit twitchy.

So anyway, I'll be in Bangkok today and tomorrow morning, Sunday it's off to Chiang Mai for a couple of days, coming back Wednesday. Thursday is body painting. :-)

Tien

P.S. I also had a chat with the woman who put me on to the group trying to save hilltribe girls from being sold into prostitution (I'll be volunteering with them in January). I'm relieved to know that they have electricity, running water, and direct email connectivity at the site. Luxury! They even have a communal motorcycle that you can drive into town. Whee! I can learn to ride a motorcycle! :-)

P.P.S. I may spend Xmas down in Phuket now--Richard is the director for Phuket's New Year's Eve show (major production), and it looks like it'll be spectacular. More to the point, if I tag along I can probably get a good look behind the scenes as well--and directing a show looks really interesting. Much like project management in terms of tracking details etc., but you get to play with much more interesting/artistic stuff. another interesting possibility...and can't lose with the neat stuff going on.

Thailand, Bangkok: help, need interestingly costumed comic book heroines

We're currently planning body armor, headdress, hair job, etc. for the body painting (currently scheduled for next Thursday). I know a bunch of you are into comics (more recently than me, anyway)--any suggestions? URLs are best, I can forward them to the artist...

The current idea is two metallic cobras running up the body, hoods centered over the breasts, heads meeting at the bottom of a metallic torque/armor around the neck. The lines run roughly similar to that on Starfire, from the waist up:

http://www.superstories.net/sportsman/heat/starfire.htm

Legs, maybe some jagged metallic-scrap stuff a la Witchblade:

http://www.witchblade.com/view.html?wb41_alt.jpg

Haven't figured out the rest of it yet. Not totally attached to this idea, either. Ideas would be nice...my last serious venture into comic books was in 1984 , so I haven't much idea what's current.

We're currently planning to shoot on 35mm film (cheaper, good up to 11x14 print probably--although i'm tempted to go higher up in case I want a poster) and shoot against a brown/gold/orange spotted backdrop which gives an overall rather earthy tone. other than that, still planning. send me ideas! What interestingly barbaric costumes are out there?

Tien

Thailand, Bangkok: in Bangkok for awhile; more travel crafts and textiles; Laos

Between the body painter's schedule, the intricacies of Lao visas, and foot problems, it looks like I'll be in Bangkok for most of the upcoming week. which is good since it will let me catch up on some writing...I'm working on a couple of essays which need time to coalesce. So I am taking a several day vacation from vacationing.

I also have a photo of the origami crab I folded for my diving instructor, which unfortunately doesnt' do the thing justice. I couldn't find origami paper in Bangkok (yet) but I did find aluminum foil and tissue paper...so I bought a glue stick and made some tissue foil--one of the best media for curved origami models. The tissue paper is actually quite nice--dark blue with silver threads, the other side is a textured sky blue. I wish I'd memorized more origami models before I left--the only ones I have memorized are the blue crab, a pegasus, an elephant, a coin box, and a few very simple models like the crane. Origami is a nice portable craft (good for gifts), but the books are murder to carry. Oh well. Elephants and crabs will have to do.

Nothing desperately wrong with the foot; I seem to have strained a tendon in the arch of my left foot, so I'm going to see if I can find an English-speaking podiatrist today. Also see about getting a Lao visa; because I have limited time, I think I'm going to do just one of Cambodia-Vietnam-Laos first, and since I like the textiles I think I'll make it Laos.

This promises to be quite an adventure since Laos is, um, missing a lot of infrastructure. Banditry is apparently still a problem on some major highways, roads are very poor, hotels are nonexistent, poor, and/or expensive, electricity is described as "an accident waiting to happen",...This kind of worries me, but I figure I'll get the visa, then go to the Thai border crossing town and stay in a guesthouse there for one or two days--since they live on Laos-bound visitors, they've got to know something about travel in Laos. I may also try to hook up with some other travelers--apparently it's recommended, to save money, and is also marginally safer. At the very least, officials out to extort bribes/levy bogus "fines" will likely charge groups less (per per person) than individuals. (Yes, I did say an adventure.)

laos isn't supposed to have much in historical sites et al, but since I"m really interested in the weaving, this doesn't bother me. I'm reading through the guidebook today...on the way to the podiatrist, if I can find one, and also to American University, where I hope to get a Thai tutor.

Tien

Thailand, Bangkok: antique charkha, various updates

Well, after an 12-hour bus ride with amphetamine-crazed driver playing "chicken" with oncoming traffic (i.e. a thoroughly uneventful, standard Thai bus ride), I made it back to Bangkok at 5am. At the bus station, I was immediately beset with taxi drivers wanting to take me to my hotel for a "mere" 300 baht (3x the going rate)--it's unbelievably annoying being a farang (foreigner) sometimes. I wound up hiking what *felt* like a kilometer and a half, backtracking the taxi line ("Ambassador Hotel, 300 baht") to the mother lode, i.e. the main street. There I flagged down an honest taxi driver and got back to my hotel for a reasonable fare.

Highlights of yesterday were the Chatuchak Market (more on that below) and the Ploenchit Fair. The Ploenchit fair is a charity event, sponsored by the British Embassy and normally held on the Embassy grounds, but after 9/11 it got moved to the Royal Grounds. It's a really odd mix of Western and Thai--probably the highlight of the evening was the Scottish-Irish-Canadian-Thai band fiddling Irish jigs while a bunch of Thai security officers looked on. (Really tight security presence--worried about terrorist bombings.) I went to the fair with the body painter (Richard) and also ran into Siri and Nima (two of Ben's cousins) there. Siri and I are going off to see the Harry Potter movie this afternoon, Ben and I may get together later this evening. Siri invited me to stay with her--if I wind up staying in Bangkok for a week or so (which now seems likely), I may take her up on it.

Plans for this week include arranging a time for body painting (depends on the artist's schedule), getting my Vietnamese/Cambodian/Lao visas (etc.) and probably getting a Thai language tutor to teach me basic Thai. Of these the really crucial one is the Vietnamese visa--the guidebook says it takes 3-5 days, so if I go for that, I'm stuck in Bangkok until I get it. Checking into a hotel here usually requires passport ID. So I may take some time off from traveling, catch up on my travel writings, etc.

I forgot to mention that I've changed my nationality. I'm now Japanese. With my hair braided and up in a bun, fastened with a chopstick, I'm apparently a Japanese tourist. Down in a ponytail, and dressed locally, I'm Sino-Thai. In conventional Western pants and American t-shirt, I imagine I'd be American, but it's hard to tell, since English is the established lingua franca in Asia. ("Lingua franca", meaning English, particularly amuses me because it happens to be Latin for "French".) In a drapey blouse and loose-fitting silk culottes (trousers that look very much like a split skirt), and especially with the little drop spindle, I'm apparently a very picturesque Japanese woman--I've noticed a couple of European tourists surreptitiously snapping pictu

Anyway, I'm feeling lazy, so rather than rewrite things, I'm going to append the Chatuchak Market (and antique charkha) description that I wrote for the handspinners' list this morning. (Feel free to skip it if you're not into textiles.) If you don't know what a charkha is, it's a spinning wheel where the wheel is cranked by hand and the yarn is spun off the tip of a very sharp spindle that rotates very, very fast.

The Western equivalent is called the great wheel, or walking wheel, with a hand-turned wheel 4-5 feet in diameter--it and the drop spindle were the predominant ways of spinning wool in American colonial days. (It's generally thought that the great wheel was the wheel that pricked Sleeping Beauty, since the (now) more common treadled wheel doesn't have pointy ends.) The charkha is smaller than a great wheel, and is designed to be used sitting down. Its modern use was popularized by Gandhi as part of his protest against colonial treatment--Indians were either required to, or generally did, buy foreign cotton, so Gandhi recommended hand-made local spinning as a way to reduce colonial dependency.

This is probably far more about textiles than you really want to know, so I'll just append the rest of it...feel free to skip if you like.

I got back to Bangkok yesterday morning and went hopping through Chatuchak Market (the Weekend Market), which is just amazing. You can buy *anything* there. Fighting cocks, religious amulets, textiles from Laos, Burma, China, and the hilltribes; antiques, Western oil paintings, dried fish, tasty noodle soup, papayas, gardening supplies, and (unfortunately, in some stalls) bits of endangered species. There are over six thousand vendors packed into a rabbit's-warren of mazelike paths--you could spend an entire day there and not see more than a tiny fraction of it. Paths are narrow, the place is dark, each stall is maybe six feet by ten, crammed with merchandise.

I bought beads there for my travel shawl (blue pearls, chips of lapis, round amethysts), and also some very wonderful used textiles from Lao. They're not in the best of condition, being used, (sorry, haven't taken pix yet), but they're clearly authentic and handmade--Mary Beth, I got one or two for you, I think you'll love them. They show off the exquisite Lao weaving--ikat work, some very nice overshot borders done in many shades of silk (looks like embroidery, but is woven--I looked), and some included patterns in the main weave which I dimly remember are symbolic of something. (Now I'm wishing I hadn't mailed my book on Lao textiles home, but...I needed the space in my pack.) They're quite worn, but (I think) more beautiful that way...also more likely authentic, as the new stuff in shops tends to be a mix of Burmese, Lao, and Chinese techniques meant to appeal to tourists. I plan to buy more Lao textiles once I'm actually in Lao...I figure that's probably better.

Anyway, I also found an antique Thai charkha there! I was looking for beads, passed a furniture shop, and stopped short--there was an old bamboo charkha, sitting on the table next to some handmade boat shuttles! I turned the handle and it spun easily--the spindle was bent out of shape, but otherwise it appeared functional. I was thrilled. I asked the dealer and he said it came from northern Thailand, Chiang Mai--asked him how much he wanted, just over $50. I bargained with him for awhile, and got it for 1900 baht, or just about $44. (He also offered me some pig troughs ("cultural artifacts"), but I declined. ) So I think I got a great deal.

The charkha is handmade of bamboo, with a hand-forged iron spindle. It was bent out of shape, but I (gently, gently!) straightened it out and even spun a little silk on it this morning! It's going to be a nightmare to ship home since it's quite delicate and is also huge (probably about four feet long and eighteen inches high), but it's well worthwhile. It's clearly seen some heavy use, there's a groove worn in the spindle-wrappings and in the sticks used to keep the drive-band from wandering. But it's fantastic. I'm going to see if I can find an antiques/textiles expert in Bangkok who can tell me something about its history/use.

Pix of it are here--you gotta look at it, it's way cool: http://www.travelingtiger.com/travelingtiger/travel_crafts/travel_crafts_index.htm

So, now the question: There appears to be one piece missing from the charkha (it may have fallen off while I was running around the market--hauling an irregularly shaped, twenty-pound object the size of a giant guitar through crowded narrow aisles isn't the easiest of things), a tiny piece on the end that keeps the spindle from sliding out of the bushings. Clearly, I need to replace it or fix it somehow if I want to spin on it. But, I don't want to damage its value as an antique, if it genuinely is one (and I think it might be). What should I do? I'm thinking of wrapping it in a bit of waxed linen thread or something just to make it usable--is that OK? I'm hoping some of you antiques collectors can give me some suggestions...

I'm not sure I'll have the houseroom to keep this once I get back (for now a friend will store it for me), but I just couldn't let it pass by...I figure, at worst I can re-sell it once I return to the U.S.

The travel shawl is coming along well--I'm on row 64, it's about sixteen inches across and I'm up to 256 stitches/round--starting to add pearls and other beads. I really want to fix this charkha so I can spin a skein of silk on it before shipping it back to the states--that would be really special, to knit into the shawl. So tell me, how can I repair this thing simply and quickly (temporarily), without hurting its artifact value?

Back in Bangkok--

Tien

Thailand, Khao Lak: hey cool!

Remember the woman I taught to spin in the bus station on the way to Ko Chang, and gave my spare drop spindle to? Well, I sent her some of the acrylic roving Mr. Wu gave me, and just got an email from her daughter--she wants to send me a return gift, and/or start a correspondence. Isn't that cool? You never know what will happen. I have no idea what she does, but anyone who's interested in craft is (by definition) interesting, especially if they live in Thailand. :-)

(Mary Beth--that was the big pink whorl with the holes in it, if you remember making that one. Congrats--it's now with a new spinner, somewhere in Asia.)

Nothing too exciting today--mostly resting and relaxing, and trying to get the world to stop swaying. Said goodbye to Mike (my instructor) and Celso (?), our Spanish divemaster--they're both going back out on diving trips today. Mike was very sorry to be leaving and i was sorry to see her go--she and I are going to try staying in touch, and I may come back here for Christmas. We got along really well, I'm sorry I didn't get more time to hang out with her.

(Yeah, yeah, I think she's cute, but we actually get along quite well: she's had a very interesting life, and we're quite similar, personality-wise. (For example, a guy was picking a fight with her S.O. in the bar and the two of us very nearly decked him.) Besides, we bonded over the folding of an origami sea turtle. I'm amazed how fast she picked it up--most people are (sorry) hopeless when it comes to origami, but she "got" it almost immediately. I'm almost tempted to try teaching her the blue crab, all 93 steps of it. I just wish I'd memorized the lionfish before coming out here, but you really can't have everything.)

Also had another very interesting and long conversation with Brian, the Canadian guy in the office, on the sociology of Silicon Valley, Zen Buddhism, and Thailand. He'd loaned me his favorite book on Zen Buddhism, which I liked a lot and actually spent the afternoon photocopying. Too bad I'm not going by Japan, it would be interesting to take a look at the philosophy of Zen, and compare/contrast it with Theravada and Tibetan Buddhism.

It's fascinating looking at the different interpretations springing up from the same base texts--Osho's Zen interpretation of "no self, no ego" is totally different from, say, Wat Suon Mok's perspective. (Osho is something of a hedonist, and Suan Mok is ascetic.) Both are quite different from actual Thai practice, which seems to be a mix of Buddhism, a little Hinduism, and animism. For example, every structure in Thailand (boat, house, hotel, etc.) has its own little spirit house, which looks like a miniature temple crossed with a birdhouse (it's mounted on a pole like a birdhouse). Daily offerings are given to the spirits to keep them happy, and they're given their own house to keep them from living in the house proper. This, needless to say, has nothing to do with Buddhist philosophy per se, but is a lovely tradition.

(They even had it on the boat: the bow of the boat was decorated with an elaborate fresh-flower arrangement every morning, and a glass of water and a little dish of food was set out for the boat spirits. laugh if you like, but it sure beats fuzzy dice, the American alternative. I'm not sure what spirits like fuzzy dice or air fresheners, but I suspect they're evil gremlins. ;-) )

Buses in Thailand also have lots and lots of floral offerings to bus and road spirits--usually plastered all over the dashboard and the rearview mirror. Unfortunately, in the case of buses it makes a great deal of sense: most of the drivers are strung out on crystal meth (so they can stay up all night and drive faster), and they drive at insane speeds, overtake around blind curves, and so on. Accidents, including fatalities, are quite common. Nonetheless it's still a pretty nice way to travel, as long as you steadfastly ignore whatever the bus driver is doing with oncoming traffic. Traffic in Thailand mostly resembles a continuous game of chicken--the bigger vehicle has the right of way no matter what lane it's supposed to be in or what the "normal" flow of traffic would be. The net effect is that the bus drives in whatever lane it wants to (including oncoming-traffic lanes), and smaller cars have to swerve out of its way. They don't always succeed...I'm surprised SUVs aren't more popular here.

I'm not doing my cycling training on any highway in Thailand, that's for sure. Besides, I've already decided to do ALC2 on an elephant. (If only to watch the sweep vehicles try to "sag" an elephant. Stephen, you *are* getting that 18-wheeler sag wagon for me, right? ;-) )

Tien

Thailand, Similan Islands: Similan Islands, Day 1

(Sketchy notes are taking longer to fill out than expected. hopefully I can get them down before I forget everything...)

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11/16 (Saturday) Well, we're off to the Similans...It's rather a nice boat, 36 meters long, with an upper deck (kitchen, food, lounge) and a lower one (cabins, dive deck, saloon/TV room). By some miracle, I've been assigned the only single--everyone else is sharing. I'm glad I have it; me and one other person in a 30-sq-ft space might very well result in a single by the time I got back. (In fact I suspect they put me in it because I'm the only novice on the dive, so they decided to spare the more experienced divers from rooming with me. Or maybe I just got lucky.)

Nothing much to report, except that the showers are lukewarm (but not cold!). Trying to read the screen with the ship moving is giving me a headache, so I think I'll quit now.

11/17 (Sunday)

Jesus. The Similans are Paradise. It's amazing.

Where to start? Well, the diving--it's hard to describe the diving. Take your National Geographic photos and double the amount of sea life. (Rob: forget the Antarctic trip, and come dive here; you'll flip over it. Promise.) I've been "stuck" at 12 meter depth since I'm not certified for open water yet--but this is hardly suffering: the reefs are fantastic. Giant sea fans (three or four kinds at least--some three meters across), corals in all shapes/colors, baroquely tasseled purple sea cucumbers a foot and a half long, tubeworms that look just like little purple flowers blossoming on coral, until they vanish, yanked back into holes in the rock. Giant purple-and-black crown-of-thorns starfish, shaped like an eight-armed starfish with sea urchin spines. Sea cushions, starfish shaped like pentagonal cushions.

And the fish! They're everywhere. Flocks of bright orange fish, the size of three fingers, flutter about, punctuated by slim black-and-turquoise cleaner fish; clouds of minnows school about the coral. First in shapeless clouds of brown fish; then a bigger fish frightens them, and the cloud instantly snaps into a school, swimming away in perfect formation. It looks almost like rain, the way they fall away in silver sheets.

Bigger fish, too: gaudy parrotfish, green, blue, and orange, nipping at coral with their hard beaks; lumpy boxfish, brown and white; graceful triggerfish, black and turquoise ovals rippling through the water, swimming with their dorsal fins.

A giant napoleon lurks closer, a dark shadow with a distinctively humpbacked head, visible only in five-foot profile. A gorgeous lionfish, zebra-striped, all fluttery fins and long, graceful spines. Clownfish, orange, black and white, hiding in anemones; and a big clown triggerfish, with giant head and mouth, impossibly striking, like an abstract artists' piece.

That really doesn't capture it; it's impossible to capture in words. At any given point, there were several hundred fish in sight, and usually at least fifteen or sixteen species; I gave up counting, I couldn't keep track of them. I wish I knew more about maritime ecology; the only fish book on board is in German, so all I can get from it is their common names, not habitat or any deeper understanding of what they're about.

And the landscape! The Similans are known for their reefs, but famous (says our divemaster) for the rocks: giant smooth boulders, jutting out of the floor like a tumbled-over Stonehenge, 40, 50 meters or more. They're visible on top of the islands as well; I'll try to take a picture abovewater, but it won't give you the seascape. Unfortunately I missed most of the good seascape; it's mostly at depths of 25-30 meters, and I'm "stuck" at 12. Still, I'm not complaining.

I forgot to mention a really cool starfish I saw. Actually, I'm not sure "starfish" is the right descriptor: it looks like a cross between a sea urchin and a starfish gone mad, 18" across, with eight or nine or ten purple arms studded with sharp, dark-purple sea-urchin spines. It's called a crown-of-thorns starfish, and feeds on coral. I really wondered if I wasn't hallucinating when I saw it, but it's very, very cool.

So anyway, that's a brief description of the reef diving. But you really need to be there, to really appreciate it; words can only go so far. I really wish I had a camera.

Above water, on the other hand, it's delightful as well. The water is sapphire--and I *mean* sapphire; not the dirty sea-green you get in California. I hadn't realized water actually came that blue; photos in Hawaii are obviously taken with filters to make the water *look* blue, but this really *is* the shade you see in travel brochures. Even the water off Ko Chang wasn't this nice. I wonder what makes it like that? At any rate, it's gorgeous.

The sand is white and powdery (apparently common to coral beaches); the perfect sand for walking, it starts out smooth and untouched, flat and pristine, then molds itself to your feet as you walk. No abrasion; it's soft, not sandy. Just enough support that your feet don't sink in, and no gritty feel. I *love* the beaches. If the diving weren't so spectacular, I'd spend entire days just walking up and down the beach, especially with the startlingly turquoise shallows. Tiny white ghost crabs run up and down the white sand; move slowly enough, and you can walk right up to them. Hermit crabs, too; and some very pretty spiral snails in the crevices of the rock.

In the interior of the island we stopped on, there's some sort of rainforest, with flying foxes, giant land crabs, and about a million different species of plants. I didn't see the foxes, but I did spot a two-foot monitor lizard, brownish-gray, with the waddling gait and side-to-side neck movements distinctive to monitors. I wish I'd kept that field guide to Thai reptiles; maybe I'll buy another one. I tried getting up for a closer look, but it climbed a tree, then ran off. Anyway, it was neat getting to look at a monitor in the wild.

I did watch for snakes, but (alas) didn't see any. it's possible they haven't made it out from the mainland, it's 40 km or so away. Mike (my instructor) says there are sea snakes in the water, and we'll probably see one--I hope so, they're very beautiful. (Also highly neurotoxic, but what are you doing messing with one, anyway?)

I think, though, that on the whole the best part so far was the lionfish. It was gorgeous--white-and-black feathery plumes everywhere. I could have watched it for hours.

Dive-wise, we did three dives today. The first was on a coral reef; everyone else went down to 26 meters, but Mike and I stayed at 12 meters and did some confined-water exercises before cruising around the reef. Almost no current, beautiful view. I had some trouble breathing initially, but eventually settled down.

Second dive was mostly a rock-landscape dive, so I missed that part (too deep for me); there was a strong current, too, which we could have avoided by going to the bottom, but I couldn't go that deep, so we simply hung onto the mooring line at 12 meters for twenty minutes or so, looking at the nearby coral and watching the fish schooling. Oddly enough I wasn't bored; there was plenty of action to watch on the corals, with little fish darting in and out, flurries of "minnows" forming and exploding, and the odd sea cucumber/sea fan to investigate.

The third dive was a reef dive; the others went around the north and south side of the reef, but we stayed on the reef, at 12-14 meters. This is where I saw the lionfish, and the clown triggerfish; it's also where I spotted the napoleon, a giant fish way bigger than me (!). It feeds on invertebrates mostly, and its meat is very highly prized, apparently fetching over $100/lb in Hong Kong (!). The lips of the napoleon are considered an aphrodesiac and fetch very high prices in Southeast Asia. All of which is a real pity, because it was a very beautiful and impressive giant fish. Fortunately the Similans are a maritime preserve, so fishing et al is illegal here. (The restrictions may even be enforced, which is (unfortunately) rare in Thailand.)

There are supposed to be leopard sharks here too, but I haven't seen any.

I should also mention that the two-legged scenery doesn't suck, either. There are fourteen other passengers on the boat, and four or five instructors/staff, most of whom are quite enjoyable to look at. In fact, when I get back, I'm going to write a book titled "All I Need To Know About Ogling Men I Learned From My AIDS Lifecycle Tentmate." (Hey, if you're going to learn about these things, learn from a pro. ;-) )

At any rate, despite all that, the real beauty is under the water.

Anyway, it's getting late, and tomorrow we start diving again at 8am. Good night.

Tien

Thailand, Khao Lak: back from Similans, heading back to Bangkok

The Similans are Paradise.

Just got off the boat from the trip, so this is going to be a short email--I still have my "sea legs" so everything is still swaying back and forth, and I'm getting seasick sitting here and looking at a stationary monitor. But the Similans are just amazing...coral reefs beyond anything I've seen in photos or even fanciful artists' representations, crammed with brightly colored tropical fish and more exotic sealife (lionfish, scorpionfish, barracuda, giant sea turtles, manta rays, etc.). I kept a trip diary which I will clean up and send off as soon as everything stops swaying (hopefully tomorrow morning). Unfortunately my visual memory is about the size of a peanut (I think in language), and it's impossible to do justice to the sight in words, anyway--but I'll give it a try. It really was amazing.

Note: anyone who wants to spend Xmas in Southeast Asia, drop me an email and let's go diving together. Sherry, this means you. ;-) I can't imagine any better place to spend Christmas--I'd do it again in a flash.

off for dinner at the pizza place, and to pick up my custom-tailored silk clothes--tomorrow I'll try to get the diary updated. Thurs or Fri I leave for Bangkok...

Tien

Thailand, Khao Lak: heading out diving, back around 11/20 or so

First, I have AOL IM on my laptop now, so if you see me pop up, feel free to chat...I'm most likely to be logged on in the late evening, U.S. time (9am Thailand = 6pm US).

Nothing much to report the last few days--Khao Lak is a pretty small town, mostly a stop on the way to the Similan Islands. I'm enjoying it anyway--I've been a little homesick the last few days, so I'm enjoying being someplace I can buy a cheeseburger and eat spaghetti. It's actually less homesickness than culture shock--communicating in pidgin English, not being understood, and eating strange food wears on you after awhile. So tonight I plan to eat pizza at the Italian joint, which claims to be run by an Italian. I must say, it's really nice to be in a place where you can have conversations with people at a higher level than "Food. Chicken. How much?" (And that's advanced English; usually it's point and "How much?")

On the other hand, there are worse fates than cold showers and lack of conversation; from the email I've been getting lately, Silicon Valley is one of them. The upside to traveling, besides the free wildlife safaris inside your bathroom (today it was a frog; last week it was giant spiders, and I'm not even counting the roaches), is that you really dont' have to worry about anything: anything that's happening next week is irrelevant, you can pretty much do whatever you want. In fact, you're pretty much *forced* to live in the present; you can't fit anything extra in your pack, and you can't communicate well enough to plan, so you *have* to live day to day. It's really relaxing, after the initial frustration.

(There is this Western myth that one has to plan one's life far in advance, and that one's life/career ought to be linear, and headed somewhere. The more I think about this, the more bogus it seems; it's probably an outcrop of the Christian focus on the afterlife, which encourages spending one's life planning for the future. Or maybe not; I'm not sure. It is clear to me, though, that Asian cultures have a very different view of time, and that this is probably correlated to Buddhist and Hindu beliefs in reincarnation. Life looks very different when you have infinite lives to correct things, rather than just one lifetime that determines eternity. It's been really interesting seeing how religious philosophy/theology plus ambient weather shapes culture--I may write a short essay on that, if I get the time.)

At any rate, I'm enjoying just living day to day, without worrying about the future. This isn't something you can do on vacation; on vacation, there's still that sense of urgency. Even if you've put it out of your head, somewhere in the back of your mind the ticker is still counting: you need to be back, people are depending on you, you have deliverables, you have 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 days of vacation left. This kind of travel is totally unlike that; I'm going where I want to, I'll turn up when I feel like it, and no one has a hold on me. This is something totally inconceivable in high-tech.

Not only does the past not hold me, tomorrow isn't there either. There's no point in planning, I don't know enough about the area to make decent plans. There's no point in worrying about abstracts, because I can't communicate anything but immediate needs. I can't ask if the bus leaves tomorrow--most Thai don't speak English that well. I can only turn up, and see if it's there. This is initially extremely frustrating. After that, it's great...I don't know what's going to happen next, I don't know if it will be two minutes or four hours until the bus appears; I only know that someone pointed me in this direction. If I wait, a bus (or a pickup-taxi, motorcycle-taxi, or train) will probably appear; it will be headed in some direction, and I'll flag it down. Maybe it'll go there, maybe not. I've got no way of knowing; I can only give them my general destination, and hope they get me there.

This sounds awful, but it's actually fun. I don't have to bear the burden of worrying, or planning. I don't have to control what's happening (it's futile even to try). I have a general idea; it might happen, it might not; if it doesn't happen, something else will crop up, that might be interesting. Whatever happens, it will be OK. (This is pretty close to the translation of "Mai pen rai," Thailand's unofficial motto.)

It does help to bring a good book, or a small project to work on while waiting for the bus. This makes patience a lot easier. :-)

So, about scuba training: it's been very uneventful so far. I have only two comments: first, spending ten days practicing deep breathing through your nose, then learning scuba, results in inhaling a surprising amount of water. Do your meditation retreat *after* diving! Second, if you're taking a motorcycle taxi in a sarong, hold down *both* sides of your skirt. (OK, that probably *was* funny, if you weren't involved. But, let's just leave it there.)

My dive instructor, on the other hand, is worth mentioning: a tall, lithe, utterly gorgeous blonde woman named Mike. Now, in San Francisco, one would make certain natural assumptions upon meeting a woman in a crew-cut named Mike (and the thought did cross my mind, along with "Has she got a girlfriend?"), but (alas) she's traveling with her partner, a Dutch-Canadian guy named Pete. It was amusing watching them over dinner--Pete clearly thinks she's his wife, and she just as clearly thinks he's her partner/SO/traveling companion. I predict interesting times in their future. Oh well.

Anyway, we did three hours of pool exercises yesterday, and watched a bunch of the PADI videos the day before. PADI videos are mostly an exercise in shameless self-promotion; fortunately, Mike agreed I could skip the rest of them (thank goodness). Tonight at 6pm the boat will pick me up, and then it's off to the Similans. I'll do one more set of confined-water exercises in the sea off the island, and then it's off for two days of supervised diving, then two days of regular diving. I'm really looking forward to it, though I'm miffed that I can't get an underwater camera. Apparently the dive company's last two underwater cameras both got ruined last week, and there aren't any others in town.

But, that's probably not a bad thing--it means I'll get to see things while diving, instead of thinking compositionally--and they will have a professional videographer with the boat, so maybe I can use some of the stills. And if I really want to, of course, I can always come back later.

OK, it's nearly noon and I'm hungry--so it's off to the Italian place for some pizza or ravioli, then to the market in Ban Niang, to look around, and maybe see if they have beads for my shawl.

Tien P.S. Why does tourist kitsch look the same all around the world? I suspect convergent evolution...you think I could get NSF grant money to study it? :-)

Burma/Thailand, Khao Lak: day in Myanmar; in Khao Lak, going diving 11/15

So, I had a little temper tantrum yesterday after getting to my hotel (the Asia Hotel, fan-cooled room) and discovering yet another primitive bathroom. OK--this one had running water, and the toilet actually flushed (instead of dumping water down it to flush it) but since it didn't feature toilet paper or...oh, never mind. You don't want to know the details.

Anyway, that in itself wasn't so bad, but when I found out the sink leaked all over the floor (which was nominally OK since the cold shower sprayed the entire bathroom floor with water anyway) and the room hadn't been repainted since the days of Chairman Mao, well, I decided I'd had enough. If I had to take one more cold shower or deal with a dubious toilet for one more day...so I packed my bags, caught a songtao (pickup-taxi), and checked into the Jansom Thara Hotel, the best hotel in Ranong.

And, in fact, it was pure luxury. (About on par with a Motel 6.) 1200 baht a night gets you miracles: running water (HOT running water!), air conditioning, a TV, and actual ELECTRICAL OUTLETS in the rooms!! Also access to their hot springs and a free breakfast. But forget all that. The important thing was the shower. OK, it wasn't hot, it was lukewarm at best--but it wasn't cold, and that was what counted.

I don't know what it is about hot showers. It's warm enough in Thailand that cold showers really aren't bad, and you can get perfectly clean in cold water. But there's something reassuring about a hot shower that has nothing to do with practicality.

Anyway, the second thing I did, of course, was to sit down and plug in my laptop. I'm embarrassed to admit it (especially since I came here to get away from all that), but I'm now traveling with digital camera, laptop, and cell phone. *sigh* So much for the simple life. But, it is allowing me to process photos, so I should have photos on my website in a day or two. (Sherry: did you get the photo CD and prints? and Jim, did you get the negatives?)

I spent most of last night working on web pages; which is just as well, since there isn't much to see in Ranong. I also took a bath--not because a lukewarm bath is much fun, but it was the first bathtub I'd seen since my arrival, and dammit, I was *going* to soak in (lukewarm) water while I had a bathtub. I even turned on the TV, although I didn't watch it. It's the principle of the thing. :-)

I also sent out the laundry (luxury!). On top of the awful gruel, it had also poured continuously for nine days at Suan Mok. This made the cisterns muddy--so on top of the awful gruel, I'd been washing my laundry (and myself) in muddy water for five days, with about the results you'd expect. I was GOING to have clean shirts and underwear, dammit. More, I was going to have clean clothes WITHOUT washing things in the sink myself, dammit. And, in fact, I actually have clean clothes today--yippee! It's so nice to be without wrinkles, even if only temporarily.

Anyway, I arrived at the Burmese crossing-point determined to play wealthy Western tourist for a day. Which turned out to be a good thing, since the crossing-point exists solely for the purpose of fleecing Western tourists renewing their Thai visas. After Thai immigration, I went to the dock, where a young boy named Ali directed me into a longtail boat.

The longtail boats deserve description because they're both brilliant in conception and absolutely terrifying. Take a thin boat about thirty feet long. In the back, attach a fifteen-foot pole with a propeller at the end. That's it. The boatman sticks the propeller in the water to get the boat moving, and puts the propeller to the side if he wants to turn the boat. The overall effect is exactly that of a boat being driven by a gigantic weed whacker. When you're looking at extensive dry rot, wormholes, and roaches inside the boat, it's not very reassuring. But it is picturesque.

Anyway, Ali offered to show me around. I asked how much, and he said, "Afterwards--whatever you want to pay." At this point (I'm somewhat dense) I realized he was a tout--someone who makes money by steering tourists to overpriced shops and tourist attractions and then collecting a commission. But what the hell--I was looking for the rich Western tourist experience, so I figured i might as well go get myself fleeced. Try everything once, right?

Anyway, we cleared immigration (you would not have believed Burmese immigration--a little shack on stilts in the water, with an immigration officer stamping papers in his undershirt, smoking a cigarette while chickens ran around behind him--I took a photo). As soon as I set foot on the dock, another flock of touts descended. Within thirty seconds I had not one but FOUR "guides"--Ali, the original one, a Thai friend of his, and two other Burmese teens who came along as "bodyguards" for ten baht an hour. So I figured what the hell--I was enjoying the absurdity of being a Western tourist, and could certainly afford an extra fifty cents. (Needless to say I didn't actually *need* bodyguards--the area was perfectly safe--besides which, I could have beaten the lot of them up without breaking a sweat, and I imagine any serious mugger could have, too.)

Well, the rest of the trip was quite amusing--they dragged me to a temple where I paid an outrageous 120 baht "admission fee and camera fee", followed by a trip through the market and lots of overpriced jewelry stores, where they urged me to buy cow horns shaped into sharp points for cockfighting. (I did buy some button pearls, just to get into the spirit of the thing. It wouldn't have been a full experience without getting massively overcharged for *something, after all.) Then I paid them off, and got my passport stamped, giving me 30 more days in Thailand.

The following morning, after a few misadventures, I got to Khao Lak, which is about halfway down the peninsula, very near the Similan Islands. The bus dropped me off by the side of the road, and out of curiosity, I dropped into the dive shop across the street. There I got into a three-hour conversation with the dive shop manager covering everything from Buddhist philosophy to prostitution to Thai rainforest ecology, after which he told me that the place I was going to stay had been razed three months ago and was no good anymore, recommended a different hotel, pointed me at a good restaurant and tailor, and signed me up for his PADI open-water course and a four-day trip to the Similan Islands. (Jim: you will see three withdrawals in the next few days; they're legit.)

The dive shop guy also loaned me a book on Zen Buddhism which looks very very interesting--I'll probably read it on the dive boat, and I'll try to lay hands on a copy at home, too. Much more Western-friendly than the version I got at Suan Mok.

So, I'm taking diving classes the next two days, then leaving on the 16th for the Similans. The boat is a leaky, rusted--actually, no, it's quite a modern boat, with electricity in all the cabins. (More luxury!) I'm looking forward to catching up on my writing while I'm there. (Yes, I'm bringing my laptop and digital camera with me.) If they have hot showers, too, I'll be in heaven. :-)

And now, off for dinner--I haven't eaten since breakfast, so I'm pretty hungry.

I'll try to post my photos tonight, but it may not happen until tomorrow.

Tien

Thailand, Ranong: arrived in Ranong

The visit to Suan Mok must have bought me major travel karma or something--either that, or I've finally mastered the art of Third World travel. But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself...

It turned out to be a good thing that I sent off my last email when I did, as the Internet cafe shut down abruptly five minutes after I sent it. As best I could get from the owner, she didnt' have a license and they had seen the police coming down the street to inspect, so she immediately pulled down the storefront and pretended to be closed. I can't imagine this really works in a small town like Chai Ya, but I guess it might be a case of "don't ask, don't tell".

Did I mention that on the night out at Khao San Road, we left the last bar fifteen minutes early because the police about to raid? (This seems to be a theme in my travels.) Apparently they turn up right before closing, close the doors, and drug-test everyone in the place. Since one of our party didn't have their ID, she probably would have spent the night in jail even though she didn't look anywhere near underage, so we bailed out early. I'm a little sorry I missed the experience, since I've never been arrested, but you can't have everything. (Fortunately the police only really hassle Thai nationals, and in any case I'd certainly have tested clean, since I'm embarrassed to admit that I've never actually tried anything illegal. (I mean really, with the trouble I get into dead sober, who *needs* anything else?? :-) ))

Speaking of missing experiences, it looks like I'll be missing the Gay Pride Parade in Bangkok--it's this coming weekend, and I'm planning to be off diving. I'm really sorry I'm missing it--given the spectacular transvestite clubs, it should be quite a sight. OTOH, I'm not sure how one would get more colorful than San Francisco, so perhaps it's just as well.

Anyway, I had planned to stay at Wat Suon Mok for an extra day or two--there was a Thai schoolteacher looking for foreign nationals to come talk to his classes (especially women, since last month was all men and the girls complained). This sounded really interesting. But, the prospect of three more nights getting up at 4am, bathing in a sarong with cold water, sleeping on a concrete slab, and (most importantly) the possibility of having to eat that awful gruel one more day for breakfast, sent me fleeing as soon as I could grab my pack.

Anyway, things went so smoothly after that that I'm seriously suspecting karma in action. Either that, or I've finally learned the fine art of travel as a farang...I ate lunch in Chai Ya, then went to a kiosk where motorcycle taxis congregated--I had no idea what they did in the kiosk, but it seemed like a good place to start. I went up to the uniformed guy in the kiosk, put on my friendly-but-clueless-foreigner look, and said, "Ranong?" The guy there said (after several repetitions--my accent was wrong), "Ranong? Bus!"

I said, "Yes, bus, Ranong, where?" (Translated, "Yes, I want to take the bus to Ranong, but where does it stop?") He pointed at a motorcycle taxi, and the guy said, "Twenty baht"--which was shamelessly overcharging me, but what the hell, twenty baht is a whopping fifty cents, so I said sure, fine. (I could have haggled, but when your ability to get to Ranong depends on the other guy's good will, it's probably not a good idea. ;-) )

Ever ridden on a motorcycle taxi? Well, it's fairly straightforward, and totally unsafe. The guy's on a motorcycle, he's not wearing a helmet (they *never* wear helmets). But hey--you aren't either, so at least you're on par; if he hits something, you're *both* dead. (I did actually find this vaguely reassuring, though I'm not sure why. I guess I like company in my misery.)

You sit on behind, grab anything you can hang onto (don't even *think* about the driver; they're totally uncute), and pray the thing doesnt' spill you off as he zips along. I'd have been much more blase without luggage--I had a giant pack pulling me backwards, my right hand was clutching two bags in a deathgrip and my left hand couldn't find a damn thing to hold onto, the entire ride. I confess I spent the trip contemplating the impermanence of life, but not exactly in the mindframe the Buddha intended. ;-)

Anyway, we got to the main road, and the guy stopped by an overpass and indicated that I should cross it. He was very sweet, really (or maybe felt guilty about shamelessly overcharging me ;-) )--he actually waited for me to cross and then indicated to me by frantic handwaving that I should wait there, and flag the bus when it came by.

I stood by the road and started spinning on my drop spindle, and soon attracted the notice of the motorcycle-taxi guys waiting on the other side of the road. One of them came over to chat, asked me where I was going and what I was doing, and told me the bus came every half-hour. About five minutes later, the right bus finally came into sight, and he ran onto the median to tell me to flag it down.

I got on the bus, and stayed on it for several hours. When we got to Ranong, the guy indicated I should get off at the station. I said, "Downtown," and when he clearly didn't understand that, said, "Hotel". He said, "Yes, hotel?" I said, "No hotel." (i.e., I didn't have one yet)

He said, "Motorcycle taxi, hotel, mmm, thirty baht." I said, "You know hotel?" He said, "Hotel, three hundred baht," which is not cheap but not outrageous either, especially in town. So I said, fine, so he yelled at the driver to stop, and jumped off to negotiate with the motorcycle taxi drivers. The driver took me to the Asia Hotel, and here I am in a little Internet cafe, on my way (I hope) to Khun Nunt Cafe, which is reputedly the best restaurant in Ranong. I'm not sure how I'll get there, but I figure I'll find it eventually.

Anyway, I think the key to travel in Thailand is to (a) assume you'll get there eventually, (b) not bother planning the exact route, and (c) ask the local people for help and recommendations. This is very far removed from the Western mindset, which is to plan everything in advance and know exactly what you're doing--i.e., to be in control of the situation. This causes Westerners a great deal of stress, since Third World planning is often semirandom.

(A funny story one of the Suan Mok coordinators told us: he was at a bus station in India, and was waiting for a bus to Kathmandu (an 84-hour ride). There was another Westerner waiting for the same bus, getting progressively more and more agitated. Finally he went up to the stationmaster and demanded to know when the bus would arrive. the stationmaster smiled at him and said, "Please, sir, the bus is coming, why don't you have a cup of tea?" So the guy goes off and gets a cup of tea, but he's not really drinking it--he's getting madder, and madder, and madder. Finally he slams the tea down, refuses to pay, and goes up to the stationmaster and DEMANDS that the guy tell him when the bus is coming.

The stationmaster smiles at him very nicely and says in very precisely accented English, "Sir, sir, you are clearly under Western frame of mind. I cannot tell you when the bus is coming. I am not a god. Only the gods know when the bus will be coming.")

Anyway, I notice that the cafe is flashing its lights (maybe it's about to close?), so I'm going to head off now to find the cafe. Tomorrow maybe I'll catch up with a longer description of Suan Mok...or, more likely, I'll just head off to Burma.

I have a date with the body painter now; we're going to paint me not this coming weekend, but the weekend after that (whenever that is). he recommended some dive centers and places to stay along the way, so i'm giong to call them tomorrow morning, before setting off for Burma.

I still don't know what we're going to paint me as, and I can't seem to think of anything. But I assume something will turn up; it always seems to, anyway.

Tien

Thailand, Chai Ya: emerged from Suan Mok, en route to Ranong, thence to Burma

So, I've emerged from the 10-day meditation retreat at Wat Suon Mok, and am stopping through Chaiya briefly (getting email) before heading over to Ranong, on the west coast of peninsular Thailand. At Ranong I'll catch a ferry for a day trip to Burma--partly to see a little bit of Burma, but mostly because I need to renew my Thai visa, as I've been here for 30 days.

After that, I plan to go diving in the Similan Islands, which are reputedly one of the best dive sites in Southeast Asia; after that, back to Bangkok to get painted by the body painter. Really, life is tough. :-)

Wat Suon Mok was interesting. Trying to describe a silent retreat in words is completely futile--you pretty much have to do it, to understand. I will say that it's amazing what you can "see" simply by sitting still. Also that it definitely has its ups and downs, emotionally speaking; while I didn't mind getting up at 4am or eating twice a day or sleeping on a concrete slab (etc.--lots of etc.), the completely regimented schedule and total lack of anything to do but meditate had me going up the walls by about Day 5-6. A lot of people left around then, but I'm glad I stayed--though I will admit cheating a bit on the rules. It was that, or kill someone, and Buddhism believes very strongly in nonviolence. ;-)

Here was the daily schedule:

4am wake-up bell. A faint something, hovering on the edge of awareness, more felt than heard; you come awake in the dark, not quite knowing if the bell's rung, or if you've awakened on your own.

Then one clear chime rings out, then another, gradually becoming louder and louder until it's ringing continuously. It's a very nice way of waking up--if there's any nice way of waking up at 4am, that is--because unlike alarm clocks, it's a gradual awakening, not a sharp buzz. it's also got a built-in snooze alarm, since initially the strikes are very slow, allowing time to wake up slowly.

The bell itself is a decommissioned Vietnam War bomb (unused, obviously), cut in half, turned upside down, and used for peaceful purposes. This is pretty much in keeping with the rest of the theme of Suan Mok.

4:30: morning meditation/Buddhism reading, by one of the retreat members. Unlike the other dhamma talks, this one was usually comprehensible....

5:00: yoga (1.5 hours)

7:00: "dhamma talk"--i.e., a lecture on Buddhism or meditation, usually by the totally incomprehensible abbot, Achan Po. (His English wasn't very good.)

7:30: sitting meditation

8:00: breakfast.

A brief word about breakfast: it was always a porridge of brown rice and barley, with bits of taro root, corn, cilantro, and various other vegetables thrown in. With breakfast, as with lunch, we got one large bowl and one spoon for our food, served ourselves from a communal pot, and ate together in total silence, after the reading of a "food reflection". Silence in this case meant not only not speaking, but not meeting anyone else's eyes or acknowledging their existence--so you might as well have been sitting by yourself at a table, with a bunch of misty forms, or rocks, or statues nearby. An oddly eerie experience.

The food reflection, which I won't give here because I'm personally trying very hard to forget it, said that we were only eating the food to preserve our body to stay alive and healthy to live a spiritual way of life. I regret to say that the gruel was entirely in keeping with this philosophy, although lunch was generally better. By Day 9 I was seriously considering skipping breakfast and just eating one meal a day, just to avoid the gruel; if the following day hadn't been Day 10, I think I would have broken down and hauled out my secret stash of Oreos. I will be the first to admit that I'm no ascetic, especially where food is concerned.

After breakfast we got two hours of free time, which I generally spent in the hot springs.

The hot springs: now, those were nice. Picture a nice warm hot tub, just the right temperature to relax muscles, soak, and forget about everything. Nice, eh? Now, imagine it's not a paltry little hot tub but a tropical pool, lined with coconut palms, climbing vines, and exotic trees--a good fifty feet long, long enough to swim in, with delightfully squishy, gooshy mud to paddle between your toes. (Don't like mud? Okay, there's also a large concrete platform to stand on, but don't be so prissy: it's really wonderful stuff, and you're definitely missing out if you don't try it. Whatever happened to your inner 6-year-old??)

Float on your back, drifting slowly from end to end, looking up at the sky through palm fronds. Admire the fluttering butterflies and birds. Take a mud bath if you feel like it--there's clay deposits in the bank, with the kind of clay masque you pay good money for back at home. Or, heck, smear yourself with the squishy mud under your feet, just for fun. The pool is entirely yours--there are other people there, of course, but they don't see you, being silent--so it's really and truly yours.

Then, get out and take a cold shower while being eaten alive by mosquitoes. Buddha *did* say that life is suffering. ;-)

10am: another dhamma talk, usually by a comprehensible lecturer

10:30-12:30: sitting, standing, and walking meditation

12:30-2:30pm: lunch (still plain, but better than that gruel--anything would have been better than that gruel)

2:30pm: another dhamma talk

3:00-5:00: sitting, standing, walking meditatin

5:00-6:00: Pali chanting, usually led by the very enthusiastic (and very cute) monk Tan Medhi

6:00 tea and free time (I usually skipped the tea, as it was awful & no food was served)

7:30: dhamma talk

8-9: sitting, standing, walking meditation

9:30pm: lights out

If you work this out, it's about six hours of meditation a day; including the time I spent meditating during the incomprehensible dhamma talks, it probably worked out to eight hours of meditation daily. I'm not going to describe the anapanasati meditation method in detail, but it's called "mindful breathing", and has sixteen steps, which apparently lead to enlightenment. I didn't get past step 3, so I can't really say--the first three steps are following your breath (watching it as it comes in and out, and observing the body as you breathe, different kinds of breath, etc.), watching your breath at the tip of the nose as it comes in and out, and trying to get a "fixed sign" or mental image to appear.

We were also told to try vipanassa (insight) meditation, which is the predominant style in Thailand and which they described as the "shortcut" method--watch your breathing, then meditate on impermanence--but I didn't do it, being more interested in getting the mind perfectly focused. As it turns out, I didn't manage either, but I did get some very interesting insights, so I'm not too upset about it. From what they said about Nirvana, I haven't any interest in achieving it anyway--the idea, as they put it forth, was to arrive at an emotionless state wherein one realizes that there is no self and hence is totally at peace, totally not reactive, and interested only in duty. So either I'm missing something important, or it's no fun at all.

Fortunately, as with all religions, Buddhist "theology" and Buddhist practice appear to be almost totally unrelated. (I put "theology" in quotes because Buddhism--at least the variety taught at this monastery--is actually atheistic, in that it doesn't believe in an animate god, only natural law.) In other words, just because Buddha taught that joy, happiness, etc. were just another form of suffering, and that one should try to take neither pleasure nor pain from any contact, doesn't mean that actual practitioners don't enjoy life. I'm not quite sure how this wraps around the philosophy, but I'm not too upset about it either.

Having described all of this, you still won't have the slightest idea of what the experience was *really* like (especially the silent bits), but like I said, it's impossible to describe silence in words, so the best I can give you is the format.

I also have to pass on some advice from an English monk who was visiting the monastery, because it was quite amusing. He was lecturing us on how to conquer the five defilements, and quite specifically about lust. Apparently lust is quite a problem, especially for young monks--so, the traditional method is corpse meditation: dig up a rotting corpse, sit in front of it, and meditate on the impermanence of the human body. Per the monk, if the sight of a rotting corpse crawling with maggots doesn't do it, the smell certainly will.

But, as the monk pointed out in his sardonic English way, corpse meditation isn't very practical these days, as you really can't keep a rotting corpse in the back bedroom, just in case. (For one thing, people live longer, so you can't be assured of a corpse supply, particularly rotting ones.)

"But," he said, "I found a surefire cure a few years ago, from a German monk. He had asked to watch autopsies--which would have been perfectly understandable in Bangkok, of course--but they said 'What? Watch autopsies? As part of a religious practice??? What are you, crazy??" so, he had to come up with a different solution."

Well, it turns out that there's a German artist, a pathologist or some such, who specializes in taking dead bodies, removing the skin, embalming them, and posing the skinned bodies in various postures, with internal organs exposed or missing. He got a catalog from this guy and reports that it's an absolute surefire cure for lust, "especially the pregnant woman with the womb opened up and the fetus showing".

I haven't tried this, as I personally enjoy my sins and have every intention of continuing to do so, but since I like helping my friends, I thought I'd share. Apparently the exhibit is called Body World, and it's on the 'Net somewhere--as he said, there can't be that many artists using skinned, embalmed, half-eviscerated human bodies as art, so it shouldn't be too hard to find.

Alternately, if you have a corpse fetish, now you know where to look. But, don't tell me about it--or I'll get started on a certain Thanksgiving dinner that I spent listening to...oh, never mind. (No, Joe, I haven't forgiven you for that yet. Where DID you dig that guy up??? ;-) )

Anyway, it's getting late and I do want to get to Ranong today (plus I need to get some food--I skipped breakfast today because starvation was better than that interminable gruel--did I mention the interminable gruel?), so I'd better scoot off. More once I get to Ranong--

Tien