Rocket, man!

On Sunday I hopped on a bus to Vang Vieng.



I found myself saying, "It's only a three hour bus trip! That's nothing!" And it was. Where Ryan and I were the only falang on the cramped trip from Rayong to Nong Khai, this bus was all falang. And it actually smelled like dirty hippie. Very unpleasant. I checked into a guesthouse, and a loud shot went off across the street while the receptionist was handing me my key. We both jumped. I had arrived in Vang Vieng on Rocket Day!

I found my room and took a shower for some reason (showers in Laos are not effective unless administered just before sprawling naked under a fan and not moving for the rest of the day) and then ventured down to the base of most of the vapor trails.

I crossed this rickety bridge.



And ventured through the festival to the river.


Yeah, that's a rocket on the van.

Present Emily is very grateful to Past Emily for the purse umbrella, by the way.





The river was nice and cool, and surrounded by gumdrop mountains. I stood about knee deep, holding my rainbow polka-dot umbrella and eating an ice cream cone. Random people drifted under my umbrella's shade and thanked me for it. And there were rockets.



They're supposed to make it rain, and they worked.

Rubber tommy water gun

Ban Phe celebrated Songkran on Friday. In the morning, the school staff rode in a songthaew down to our base in town. The streets were so crowded with pickup trucks full of people that the songthaew crawled along the road at a speed that let townsfolk board it to throw water on us. We set up shop in front of a hair salon with a giant tank of water and some freshly delivered ice.



Songkran is a fantastic holiday. Pickup trucks full of people rode slowly by and we splashed them and they splashed us. People politely came up to each other and smear colored powder on one anothers faces, so that you alternate between caked-with-paste and rinsed clean.





There was a big wet dance party in the heat in front of Christie's restaurant. People let loose like I've never seen people let loose in Ban Phe! It was fantastic.

Why does the sun go on shining?

I finished last week with a newfound purpose in my life, but that's all over now.

On Sunday, I successfully removed the flesh from the inside of a young coconut (using only my fingers) in one whole piece. It's a little unappetizing to look at, which is appropriate when one considers that it leaves my life without meaning once again.



The glorious white sand of Ko Samet sparkles behind it. The island is part of the driest archipelago in Thailand, and it frequently stays dry while there are storms on the mainland. I took a picture of these ominous clouds on the ferry ride back. They represent my future so well.

here we are now going to the west side

On Saturday, I finally saw the west side (and the southern tip) of Magical Crystal Island. It was, of course, magical.

Bert, Autumn and I squeezed (oh, there was necessary squeezing) onto an ATV and took the steep, cratered, rocky road to the end of the island.

The first breathtaking viewpoint looks a lot like California:


Or Lost Island...


We continued down to the very end of the island (a spine-compacting ride) and I got to see the little island that lives off the end of the big one.



Then we stopped to bask in the hot, shallow water of this southern beach.



The entire trip was well worth the sore bum the next day.

Risin' up to the challenge of our rival

I'm not generally one for attending sporting events, but Muay Thai is Thailand's national sport which makes it a cultural event. A dirty, sweaty cultural event occuring in a usually vacant field, at night. So Friday after work, that's what I did.

The Muay Thai ring was constructed in a field and the whole area was enclosed within a tarp and bamboo fence. It had rained heavily that morning, and the winged ants were out in full force that evening because of it. Attracted to the three incandescent lights swinging above the ring, they frantically fly about until they lose their wings and fall. The first order of business, then, was to sweep the spent insects out of the way.


(Don't think of these shots as blurry--they're frenzied and energetic.)

Before each match, the fighters stretched and prayed in the ring. The first fight was between children. They looked 9 or 10, so they were probably 13 or 14, in the 30kg class. Muay Thai is vicious to look at, and for the first few fights the action was entirely in the ring. As the night went on, the crowd got more involved (and invested) in the fights and the energy was divided between the crowd and the fighters.

There were a few gimmicks: a Thai-vs.-Falang match (the falang won,) and a short, stocky fellow in red against two taller opponents in blue (red won.)


Red's kind of invisible in between his opponents.


Nobody cheered when the falang won.

There were twelve fights of five rounds each. The whole spectacle went on from about 8:30 to 1:30. As I left the enclosure was already coming down. The Muay Thai stadium turned back into a vacant lot by morning. It was an entertaining night, and I found myself yelling along with the crowd by the end of it.

Just a spoonful of sugar

A Welshman, an Englishman and an American were having a drink.

At first they talked about cars and farms, and true to form, the American had the swankiest car and the biggest farm. Then they got to talking about children's names.

'My son was born on St David's Day', remarked the Welshman, 'So - look you, we obviously Christened him David.'

'That's a real coincidence', observed the Englishman', My son was born on Michaelmas Day, 29th of September, so we decided to call him Michael.'

'That's remarkable', piped up the American, 'Exactly the same thing happened with my son Pancake.'

Being generally oblivious, and also (unrelatedly) from America, I thought this joke was hilarious before I learned from my lovely British ambassador Annie that there is actually a Pancake Day in Britain! I realized, of course, that it must be the best holiday ever.

And it coincides with our Mardi Gras. And so after being reminded that it was actually pancake day by the other Brit in my office, the lovely Bec, I went all the way to Tesco to buy pancake ingredients, and Tim made us pancakes and we ate them and it was the best pancake day ever!

First we mixed up an ancient pancake day recipe. I can't relay the whole thing, but it involves handfuls and dashes and so forth, so you can tell it's authentic.



And we had an assortment of toppings, including lime juice and sugar, marmalade, strawberry jam, and real maple flavoured syrup (with a U in it and everything.)



We presently persuaded Bert to partake in our Pancake Day provender.



A bit, anyway.

One bourbon, one scotch

Diggery Doggery
Good Monsieur Oliver
Shouts in the morning hours,
"This bar is closed!"

Your people thank you for
So sympathetically
Not just reopening
Armed with a hose.


Higgledy Piggledy
Good Monsieur Oliver
When ladies visit they
Drink just a few

And it goes well until
Just when you've paid you hear
Unambiguously
"Not kissing you!"


Bubbly bubbly
Good Monsieur Oliver
Sure we'll all miss your old
Waterfront bar

All we've got left is that
Victorianously
Now that you're finished you'll
Have a cigar!

Oliver's Bar opened for the last time on Friday. I really, really enjoyed myself.

Strange apparition

There usually aren't cows on my street, until there are.



They appear on the road and graze in vacant lots and front yards, dragging their tethers behind them.



They are generally unmanned and well-behaved. They do their best not to disrupt traffic. On more than one occasion they have disappeared while I briefly looked away.

Into the light of the dark black night

Directly across Soi Suan Son from me, there looms a strange building. It follows the same basic model as the other units on the block, but stands a full two stories taller and, most ominous of all, lacks windows. Instead, aside from small vents where the windows would live on any other building, the only apparent entrance is an unguarded opening visible on the top floor. At night, between the wafts of karaoke and snarling dogfights, I'm sure I've heard unnatural noises coming from that building.

Kinda weird, right?

This is a fairly common sight on the street:


The strange, windowless building in this otherwise vacant block is the only part that appears to be well-maintained and painted. My strongest hypothesis was vampires (of course) who don't understand enough about human culture to realize that painting their building made it more conspicuous. They enter and exit through the roof when they take the form of bats.

I learned the truth this week, and I was correct that it is indeed a part of an entirely new dimension of reality. It has existed for more than 400 years, but I had never known of it until now: bird's nest soup.

Bird's nest soup is, well, exactly what it sounds like. It's not something people eat here in Thailand, but it's a rare, expensive delicacy in China. The nests in question are those of swiftlets, and are made from the bird's saliva. The birds naturally build the nests in caves, but since the things sell for something like $2000 per kilogram, it's a profitable venture to let them get cozy in your vast, empty concrete building instead.

So the creepy windowless buildings are actually birdhouses, and now I'm seeing them everywhere! The reason I learned what they are in the first place is that my coworkers Annie and Ryan just moved into a house down the street, right next door to a birdhouse in the making.



People apparently spend lots of money to modify the inside to be damp and jungle-cave-like, and construction on this house should finish in a couple of weeks. Then (with luck,) we'll then get to tour it before it's closed up and the birds (hopefully) move in.

Sick Again

I frequently exclaim "How Romantic!" at anything that reminds me of Romantic poets, old movies, or dead rock stars. This entry might be a bit too much information for you. I'm just so excited and amused (by the able light of morning) that I had to share the... romantic thing that happened last night.

I was sick all day yesterday, and the only thing I ate was a half serving of rice for dinner. I was a bit hungry when I went to bed, which I thought was a good sign.

I awoke in the dark. Suddenly, I was in a sweaty, feverish rush to maneuver myself to the toilet downstairs. It was a daunting task, with uneven stairs and crazed, dizzy Emily. I sat down on the throne, worried that I was finally going to lose the only food I had eaten in 24 hours. In nauseous, dizzy agony I bent my head down between my knees and tried not to vomit.

***

A few seconds later I opened my eyes, confused about why I was arranged in such an odd position on the bathroom floor. I slowly pieced together that I had passed out and fallen off of the toilet, like ya' do. If you're Elvis Presley. Thankfully I had not made any mess of myself, so I started the endeavor of hoisting myself back onto the toilet and eventually back upstairs to my bed.

I feel much better today, save some sore spots from toppling onto the tile floor. I had some more plain rice for breakfast. Hopefully this will be completely over before Children's Day tomorrow.

I have no related pictures. You're welcome. Instead, to reward your fortitude, here is a picture fo my favorite beach at Ko Samet, Ao Nuan:

Do you want to know a secret?

I'm posting this now because, unfortunately, it's no longer a secret. Probably for the best.

I said before that most of the buildings on Soi Suan Son are vacant. It might be because the street is haunted, or it might be... actually I can't think of any other reason why someone wouldn't want to live here.

One of the most glorious vacant buildings is right at the bottom of the street across from the beach.



As in America, vacant buildings often have broken windows. They don't tend to be boarded up, though, and the strangest thing of all is that they don't tend to be full of beer bottles and dirty magazines, just dirt and rubble. Or the one I explored was, anyway.

The back of the building has a lovely view down the block.


(That's Autumn)

But the front of the building has a better view of the gulf.



And the roof, of course, has a great view of everything.



This building is was a strong candidate for Top Secret Clubhouse of the Fabulous Moustache Club.

Rock and roll, part 2

When last we left our heroine, she was recalling those blissful days of her youth... It was sunset on October 29th, 2009, to be specific, and she was watching the sunset from the top of Ta Keo.



She looks a little disgruntled, doesn't she? Maybe it's that the third person is messing with her perception of personhood.

Our third full day (October 30th) began at 4 o'clock in the morning when we awoke to start the day with sunrise at Angkor Wat.

It was worth it.

Later in the day we visited Banteay Samre


And Preah Khan, which is still in ruins in some places, and has a more tranquil and undiscovered feel to it than even Ta Prohm.







If I'm being one of those people who doesn't want to claim a famous one like Angkor Wat, the Bayon or Ta Prohm, then I think Preah Khan was my favorite. It's got trees growing over it, and it's still crumbled in places, but the most intriguing thing for me was this structure:


It's also one of the quietest temples we had to chance to visit.

We posed for an album cover, just in case.


And then I didn't pose at all before our final sunset at Pre Rup.



Before I knew it, our three day passes were all used up. We entertained ourselves for a few more days in Cambodia before returning for our previously documented trip through northern Thailand. The more I think about Cambodia, though, the more magical I feel it was. If any of you stateside folks come to visit me here, I absolutely insist that we make a jaunt over there. Thailand is a wonderful, rich place, but Angkor is a dream.

Feeling near as faded as my jeans

The night of the king's birthday didn't hold just the excitement of parade, ceremony and abundant free food. After the ceremony, Autumn and I were invited to hang out with Bert's cool friends at the windsurf place. Now Bert's pretty much the coolest guy in Ban Phe, with his aloofness and his irony and his janky fabulous old Mercedes. Autumn and I were confident that if we did not end up covered in pig's blood, this was going to be an awesome time.

Bert's cool windsurfing friends are indeed pretty cool. His friend Ter, who I had met before a few times and whose name I hope I am not misspelling (*I was misspelling it but have now corrected it--Ter is pronounced like "Duh,") was playing guitar and some dozen or fifteen windsurfers and windsurfer groupies were singing and drinking and generally being awesome. I practiced my Thai a little. I regretted still not knowing the words to "Zombie," but did sing the first verse of a few songs in English. It was great.

As the evening went on, Autumn and I decided to go swimming-or-kayaking. Autumn wanted to go kayaking, but my thought process was that my jeans would get wet, so I would have to take them off and if I take off my jeans I might as well just go swimming. So that's what we did. We put our jeans on the rocks by the shore and went swimming in tee shirts and underfrillies. Bert and Ter, having witnessed our decision-making skills, dragged some kayaks into the water and we all went kayaking around Ban Phe harbor at night, with only the light from the moon and the piers and the festival. It was beautiful. And when Ter and I returned to the beach, I discovered that the tide had come in and my pants had been taken by the sea.

Oh how magical evenings can turn sour, even without pigs blood. My fairly nice Seiko watch was in the pocket of those cheap Old Navy jeans. I scoured the shoreline with some of the cool windsurf people but it became clear that my pants were at sea, and it remained unclear whether I would see them again. I was lent a pair of board shorts and lay shivering in a beachside hammock, contemplating my pathetic life for a bit before the other kayakers returned and we searched the shore again.

Lo! What dark matter was this teasing Autumns feet with each wave? My jeans! And my watch! Still ticking! The bountiful ocean was feeling generous that night after teaching us a lesson in humility-and-leaving-our-pants-above-the-tide-line.

Autumn's pants would not wash ashore until the following day, but we made the shameful trek back to the windsurf place in the morning to retrieve my pants, at least, and to cheer for our new friends.

Monkey Baron vs 10 Humans in Helmets: The Musical

There is an abandoned temple near Ban Phe that is overrun with monkeys. I love monkeys! My decorating scheme at home is mostly pictures, figures and masks of monkeys. It's kind of ridiculous. So I jumped at the opportunity to visit the monkey temple on Saturday.



I hopped on the back of a motorbike and ventured with a group of ten TEFLers to the fabled temple. One of our group had visited the temple on his own before, and he led the way. We made a brief stop at a roadside stand to buy big bunches of green bananas for 20 baht (about 70 cents) a bunch. It had been suggested that we leave our helmets on. I joked that we might end up barricaded in the abandoned temple, subsisting on bananas as monkeys methodically sought a way in. Ha.

As we approached the sacred grounds, we entered a less-abandoned area with a huge staircase going up the hill. The railings of the staircase were five-headed snakes. Rather than climb the stairs, we followed the road up the hill to the beautiful temple. The surrounding trees were infested with small monkeys. One or two was carrying a baby on its stomach or back. The monkeys were adorable and a little shy. They loved bananas but only a few of them were brave enough to come very close for them.







Then there was this guy. He's the Baron of this particular band of monkeys and he did not seem to appreciate our visit. When one of our group bent down to hand him a banana, he bared his teeth and ran at her, which was terrifying. We tried throwing what was left of our bananas at him to make him happy, but he had no interest in them and continued towards the group of six or seven of us as we backed away from the temple, the angry Monkey Baron, our motorbikes and our companions.



Inside the temple gate, the others continued to feed the nice monkeys and take some amazing pictures. Outside the gate, I was completely terrified and so were most of my companions. Monkey Baron ran at us a couple of times and we backed further down the hill. He sat and stared at us. In our frantic fear, we attempted to scare him by singing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." He was not amused. Finally we realized that there were still some bananas in one of the backpacks. In the hope that the Baron could smell them and that was why he hated us, these last bananas were tossed toward the jungle in an attempt to get him to follow. It worked, after a fashion, and he moved to the side of the road. We hurried past him, back to the temple and our bikes.

Back at the temple, the few people who had stayed behind were still taking pictures. At some silent signal, the monkeys retreated suddenly into the jungle.



We cautiously rode back down to the base of the staircase, wary of any attempts the Baron might make to have his troops jump from the trees and attack our faces as we tried to leave.

Safe at the bottom of the staircase, we put on our best monkey faces and laughed at ourselves.