Journal: The Siafu Trip through Africa 1974


The Journal

May 16

Went to the get-acquainted party for Siafu.  Frankly, I was a bit disappointed at the people I met, but then I hate such cocktail parties for the most part anyhow.  A few interesting people there, but the age of the group was younger than I expected.

May 21

Got up fairly early today, ate one of the world’s biggest breakfasts, packed.  Finished my letter to Buzz; went to American Express and found give pieces of mail there for me.  At the airport, I weighed in 3 kils under.  The flight was pleasant.  Met Brigitte from Switzerland, we ended up sharing a tent together.  Brenda and I discussed the male crop, came to no certain conclusions.

May 22. 

Woke up at 5:30, slept again for 2 hours.  My first sleeping bag night was not so terribly uncomfortable.  Took a snap shot of our first camp breakfast – which contained BEANS as a main constituent.  Sunbathed, too two swims, had a nice discussion with some of the local young boys on the beach.  All the others clustered together for protection to avoid the kids, but they are harmless and usually kind of charming.  One of them showed me how to get the gooky oil from the beach off my feet, for which I was grateful.  Walked into Asilah for a look and a meal.  Felt the effects of my first sunburn then.  Had a very tasty fried sole and salad for 7 dinar (app $1.75).  Tried to read, nap.  Talked with a few people, got into a bit of discussion with Alan from New Guinea when he maintained that the blacks there have no intelligence.  Supper was good, considereing that our food is still in customs bond warehouse and we have to use leftovers from Siafa’s last trip.  Finished “Lost Cities” after supper, caught up with my diary, talked to Marsha from Pittsburgh.

May 23

Our stay in Asilah already seems endless, and we have been here less than 48 hours.  It is, I think, the anxiety of waiting to go, the uncertainties of details, the feeling of nerves starting to show a bit. 

We had a 3 hour briefing session this morning, given by a leader from the expedition that just came north.  He talked about border behavior; problems of packing up and breaking camp; “Gollies”, as he calls the blacks, and Gollysmashers, various implements used to fend off or chastise potential thieves;  learning how to use the fire extinguishers and how the last trip had 6 fires in one day in the Sahara due to direct sunlight on electrical connections. 

He urged an adoption of the “all the time in the world” attitude that he says is prevalent in Africa, and to expect the unexpected and the illogical because he says, “This is Africa”.  Best way to gain one’s way with officials is not to stamp and storm around but just to accept their verdicts with complacency. 

I learned that we are issued one roll of toilet paper for the entire trip; sounds a bit scanty to me. 

After lunch, I helped with checking passports for appropriate visas, inoculations, etc.  Lot of fun involved in this job, since it gave me a chance to look at ages, where everyone has traveled, and so forth.  A bit of a division occurred in camp with the expedition into town of 2/3 of us for a meal, night club, etc.  A few people feel it strongly, I suspect;  a few are on very strict budgets.  Although I have had two days of nice lunches, I think I will stop.  Not so much for economy but to shrink my stomach and lose some weight.  The boy-girl sweepstakes is proceeding apace; no real pairings yet, but everybody is watching.  Some very anxiously.  Brenda gave me some basic economics instruction tonight; we worked through the first two chapters of Samuelson.

May 24

Brigitte got up early this morning to go to Rabat for necessary visas.  After breakfast, since the day was so grey, I hopped aboard one of the trucks and took advantage of the fact that one of our drivers was going to the dentist in Tangiers.  Marsha, Carol, Mary, Mary and Reid also went along for the ride.  Since the first available dentist appointment was 4:30, we decided to stay in town.  This was my first real acquaintance with Tangiers, and perhaps I bum-rapped it due to the quick drive through the town that David and I gave it last year. 

Had a nice tour through the town; went into the medina to do some shopping, got lots of good (I hope) photos.  Of course, we were followed around by scads of young boys proclaiming our loveliness, who we expected were mainly following us nagging for tour-guide privileges and dirhams, but who seemed to be out just to cop a feel more than anything else.  They got quite a kick out of dashing up to us, putting their hands on our rears, and dashing away giggling.  

The medina was smallish but interesting,  particularly the display of olives and other vegetables.  At one end of the medina was a scenic overlook onto the bay.  Saw an older Arab woman bend over, place a one-year old baby on her back;  the baby automatically went into a crouching position, and the woman wrapped a towel around it and walked off.  Didn’t have enough time to photograph this marvelously coordinated sequence. 

Walked back into town and had a glass of mint tea at a café looking out onto Place de la France.  

Back to camp; I opted to ride in the cab of the old Bedford army truck and tried talking, or rather shouting, to the driver, Phil.  At the end of the ride I was almost deaf from the din.  Good thing we had a full lunch, since supper consisted of inedible stew with a healthy heaping of curry.   After supper a bunch of us trotted off to Camp Africa – we females went along purely in self defense, after the fellows said the girls down there were panting and we proclaimed that the fellows should take care of their own.   Brenda and I proceeded to tie one on and get pretty outrageous.

May 25

Our briefing today covered some fascinating topics and observations.

  • Move slowly in the desert, don’t exert yourself if you are feeling at all ill.
  • We will be able to do our washing in the desert only every 10-14 days; we are allocated ½ inch of water in a basin for a complete daily body wash.
  • Moroccan laws on foreign national using drugs have toughened considerably.  The penalty is now a 35 year jail term, no long just deportation.
  • The Black Power movement, spearheaded by Mobutu, is closing down Africa rapidly, and affects immediately where we can take photos, etc.
  • In Zaire we will be searched, and anything the guards take a fancy to, they will confiscate.  Last voyage north, it was a plastic clothesline.
  • We should always bargain, basically because inflation set in very rapidly if we don’t and if we pay more for the goods than the natives are accustomed to paying.  A good rule is to divide a quoted price by 3.
  • Actual barter can be done for cigarettes, which will get you 100 oranges in Zaire; aspirins, bottle with screw tops; and the pygmies will no longer accept plastic beads, they want hard cold cash.  It’s so bad, our expedition leader quipped, that the huts will soon have American Express signs on them.
  • Black market money changing:  Siafu has established a network of contacts which they will use to change money for the passenger bank, but any one of us caught changing money on the black market will be expelled from the trip, because it upsets established systems and is so often a set-up by police.
  • When buying food in local markets, we are to let the cooks go in first instead of rushing in ourselves to buy up our own lunch makings.  And we should remember that the more people together in a group, the higher the quoted prices will be.
  • In a market we are to buy according to what we see is available without completely wiping out the food supply, because what we see there is likely to be the entire output of produce for that area at that time.  We are also warned not to clean out bakeries.

The rest of the briefing dealt with personal hygiene, and various illnesses and insects: ulcerating sores, dysentery, malaria, ticks, hookworm, scorpions, snakes, lice, fleas, schistosomiasis, crotch rot, foot-burns from walking in the desert in sandals, dehydration, etc.

Following the afternoon briefing, we all packed the trucks, loaded firewood, completely scrubbed the kitchen utensils, did washing, etc.  Brigitte returned from Rabat, minus her necessary visas, as did everyone else who went to Rabat for that purpose.  Some will go back on Monday.  It seemed to be a huge hassle.

May 26

Up early today – 6:30 – since it is finally take-off day.  Breakfast was again pretty miserable, with the wheatabix running out very quickly and only baked beans and break were left.  We had our first complete packing session, which was lots of fun.  Learned how to fold up the tents and pack the trucks.  It took a great long time this first session, but I imagine we will at least half that.

I walked into town to get a head scarf in anticipation of a blowy ride on the benches in the open back of the truck.  Reid joined Brenda and I for lunch at the Alcazar restaurant under the palms.  Reid tried to bargain for some macaroons with the vendors in the marketplace and had an interest occurrence:  he had agreed on a price of 2 for 1 dirham, but when he gave the vendor the money, the fellow shortchanged him and gave him change for 1 cookie for 1 dirham.

I was kind of pleased when a few of the little boys I met on the beach remembered my name in town.  One of them even gave me a kiss on the hand goodbye.

In my attempt to learn economics from the used Samuelson textbook I brought along, Brenda helped me get through population theory today.

We packed the truks and finally, we were off!  Seemed that the guys separated into one truck and the girls into another.  We only drove about 50 k and pulled aside into a forested area.  Setting up camp for the first time was fascinating.  We pulled the tarps out from the truck; practically everyone decided to sleep in the open under the tarps instead of putting up tents. 

Dinner was quite good and the wood made a fast fire.  In the process of collecting wood for the fire, I stumbled onto an area with beehives (I think, from the buzzing sound) and also came across some interesting vegetables that look like things from the Body Snatchers.

At camp meeting tonight we discussed our change in route.  This is necessitated by the fact that we have no chance of getting to Algeria by the 31st May, when several visas run out, so we must take a trip to Rabat into consideration.  This puts Marrakesh back into the itinerary.

I rigged up a discreet washing place, much to the humor of everyone else, but it worked.  We had some difficulty with a forestry official who wanted to know where we got the wood from.  A fact of this camping life is that trundling off into the woods with the shit shovel is not much fun in the dark;  driver Roger suggested that we have someone come along in the role of second shovel.

May 27.

Up at 5 to a call of “Rise and Shine”.  By 6:30 we were on the road, albeit very sleepy.  I had a snooze courtesy of John-the-lawyer’s shoulder and really felt kind of sad about a few things.  I remembered being in Morocco about this time last year, and very happy with David and very warm and comfortable, and before I knew it, a tear slipped down my cheek.  I felt pretty foolish over this little bit of silent emotion, but I am human after all and so it goes.

We stopped at a market to buy food for lunch – bread, tomatoes, oranges.  Then we made a petrol stop in Quezzane where an amusing incident happened.  Alan and I were kidding around and he gave me a hug that ended in a smart slap on the rear, resulting in gales of glee from the normally-accumulated crowd of little boys.  Later on, at the petrol station, I played my harmonica over the side of the truck for the little kids, until one of them made an obscene gesture of opening his fly.  So much for my music ability.,,

We arrived in Fes about 2:30 and were given a 3 hour break to tour the city.  Seems funny to be back in this section of the city again,  still holding memories of my trip here with David a year ago.  Brenda, Alan and I went on expedition, window shopping, and we stopped at a sidewalk café for lemonade and some of that really super glace that former French colonists know how to make.  We sampled the French pastries.  Back to the trucks and then to a campsite on the either side of which are two foul-looking rivers.  I talked to some folks who had just come north from Jo’burg on an Encounter tour;  they all had had several bouts of dysentery; they were held up;  one of their members was arrested to taking a photo in Zaire; they had to bribe the border guards at CAR (Central African Republic) to get camera equipment in; and a girl died by getting caught in the powerful current of a waterfall area. Naturally all these things ran rumor around the camp and were discussed at the nightly camp meeting, along with other topics such as our guided tour to Fees tomorrow, our coming itinerary, water rationing, etc.  Barry the driver kept referring to our guide as Gollie, and I find it fairly offensive after my chat with our fellow traveler Richard yesterday.   To top it off, I turned my ankle when I missed a step on the ladder.  Ouch!


India 1978

India, 1978

i was able to convince my boss at Continental Can to let me pay the difference between return airfare Heathrow-NYC and Heathrow-Bombay-Delhi-NYC and squeeze in a short trip to India.   I was in London to attend an International Agribusiness Conference. The airfare difference was only $200, and my friend Nadir helped me set the trip up.

April 7, 1978

So far, no snakes – just a delightful cluster of experiences. Even getting off the plane was a new sensation, and although immigration took about half an hour and baggage another half hour, the real fun came at customs. THAT was like a giant jumble sale – with very thorough officials tossing swatches of fabric in the air from one man’s suitcase. The suitcase was about a 6-suiter, one of the plywood types. In it the man had stowed about 50 pieces of cloth, and all kinds of cosmetics. Blissfully ignorant of all this was the baby left by her mother on the other side of Customs; I guess I might have left too if I’d forgotten what a hot climate it was and my baby had chocolate cracker dripping all over its face! I just stood and laughed while I waited for my customs card and passport. No sense getting riled up.

Admittedly, my attitude was probably influenced by the fact that my good friend and B-school classmate Nadir Godrej was waiting for me. In the only air conditioned car I saw for days. I was very glad to see him and to have such a pleasant introduction to India. I stayed in his Uncle's guest room  in the family multi-storied house on Malabar Hill.

I had no idea about the magnitude of his family’s holdings. Godrej Soaps Ltd is the 41t largest company in India in the private sector. In addition to soaps, detergents, shampoos, cold cream, shaving cream, talcum powder, deodorant, perfume, editable oils, steel office furniture, refrigerators, typewriters (in 30 languages), door lock, padlocks… they also made animal feed, which is the part of the business that Nadir runs (3% of total sales). I saw the housing they provide for some of their 9000 workers (at 56 rupees per month vs a salary of 800 rupees; 1 rupee=12 US cents). They also have a school for workers’ children; cost is one rupee per child per month.

We had lunch with his parents Mr. and Mrs. Godrej, Nadir’s brother, and Nadir's brother's brother-in-law, who is starting a small powdered soap facility in Delhi with high labor intensity (encouraged by government regulations).

Nadir told me a story about how his Uncle spoke to Indira Ghandi when one of her son’s cronie told the Godrej salesmen for Delhi to reduce prices or be arrested, and straightened the whole thing out.

We went to the topiary garden, and were followed along the sideway by an unfortunate human who could only walk on all fours. Hard to forget these sights. From the garden, Bombay at night is beautiful, like a fairy tale.

April 8, 1978

My first real day in India. I woke up several times during the night, startled by all the parrots and other birds kept near the house. After breakfast (a Parsi dish of eggs, tomatoes, onions and coriander), we went to get my tickets for my ongoing travel to Udaipur, Jaipur, Agra and Delhi. Indian Air had a nice waiting area in a big hotel, and now I understand why – it filled up as the wait went on and one. Could it be understaffed? Or just bureaucratic? I emerged with only my ticket to Udaipur… everything else is on request!

We went to the Taj Mahal Hotel to get my voucher for the Lake Palace Hotel in Udaipur, and got tickets for Indian dancing that night.

We took the cheap boat over to Elephanta. The luxury tour boat looked much more comfortable but could not have been half as much fun. The ride was hot in midday; the carved stone temples were impressive, but had been so badly defaced by the Portuguese that some of the more interesting tableaus were not understandable.

We had a soft drink at a small snack shop near where the boats departed; I noticed that the shop keeper had plastered a “Tumbs Up” symbol over the Coca in Coca-Cola.

Afterwards, we had a snack at the Taj Mahal Hotel – really a lovely hotel. The ice cream tasted granular to me, must have been made with condensed milk.

The Chor Bazar was incredible. Talk about another world than the one Nadir is used to! Nadir had never been to the Chor Bazar. We soon came to understand why people walk in the streets when he is driving by… the sidewalks are filthy, used like latrines. The bazaar is often called “thieves market”, and that may be true. Everything is secondhand, and business is bustling. Seems that this secondary market is very important to the Indian way of life – and it doesn’t really enter into the government’s commerce statistics. I was intrigued by a latern made from recycled soda/beer cans. Edible oil in 55 gallon cans, with dippers for selling small affordable amounts to shoppers. A whole street of Edison music boxes, in mint condition. Leather scrap dealers. Rag dealer, etc. etc. Very noisy. My shoes smelled for hours afterwards –the soles were nasty after our walk around the bazaar.

There are crows everywhere in this country. Big crows. They add to the noise considerably.

The dancing show at the Taj was very good. It must take years to learn to move your head and eyes sideways like that!

We walked on Chowpatty Beach – it was the first time Nadir had done that in over 10 years, he said. Massages offered for less than 1 rupee each, given right there on the sand. (We did not indulge.) A sand sculpture of a god was beautifully done. My favorite were the necklaces of Jasmin flowers.

This was a wonderful introduction to this country, and I am grateful for Nadir’s help on this trip, and for his help at B-school too. He is a good friend, and I think we will have a long and interesting friendship.

Going Home 2006 - Nappanee Indiana

There are so many times that I've returned to my "home town" in rural Northern Indiana -- the town of Nappanee.   I didn't document them all.  Throughout college, of course, I came "home".  And then I was married nearby to Gerry Nadel at a synagogue in South Bend in 1966, and I often returned to see my parents.  After the divorce in 1972, and then during my years at Harvard Business School (1974-76), I returned many times to Nappanee.  With Chad Keck, whom I married in 1976, and then with the children ... many trips back.  My parents moved to Indianapolis in 1985 so my Dad could get the best cancer treatment available, and then my Indiana trips were to Indianapolis, often as stopovers during business flights.  My Dad died in 1999, and the trips continued to Indianapolis, sometimes with a daytrip to Nappanee to say hello to my cousin Don Fervida and his family. 

But in 2006, the trip to Indiana was for  my Mom's funeral.    My sons Martin and Matthew, Matthew's wife Sofia, my grandson Mateo, and my good friends Kathleen Rosecrans and Gloria Judson came too.  We made a day trip to Nappanee. 

What a wonderful surprise awaited us at my cousin Don Fervida's house!  He and wife Betty had just finished converting their big garage into a recreation room that could be used for church gatherings... and family gatherings too.   We walked into an event filled with my Dad's remaining sisters, a bunch of my cousins, and counters laden with traditional get-together food like deviled ham sandwiches, fruit punch with sherbet floats, ambrosia salad, and many other delicious items prepared by Betty and the aunts.

It was a bit of a culture shock for Sofia -- not exactly the way things are done in Guatemala.  My cousin Wayne Shepherd grilled her about her family background, so he could add to the genealogy book that he'd done for the Brumbaugh family.

My ancestors on my Dad's side first came to this part of Indiana in the late1700's.   The family graveyard not too far distant from Don's house is filled with gravestones, some of which date back to the early 1800's.

Many times, it was difficult for my Canadian-born city-girl mother, Mary Elizabeth, also known as "Lib", to feel comfortable in this family fold, but she was good to my Dad (who died in 1999) and my kin understood and appreciated that.  She saw clearly what the prevailing culture was, and said to me, hundreds of times, "There is more to life than Nappanee, Indiana."  I believed her, and left for college out of state in 1964, and never really returned.  

But for my Mom's funeral events,  a homecoming of sorts was in order.   

Part of her cremains are in that family graveyard on that county road. 

There is no denying that there are Indiana roots in my background.  But there are also strong, independent and clear-sighted traits that I inherited from my Mom.  So it is always with mixed feelings that I return to a place that essentially shunned her because she was 1) a foreigner and 2) a "Papist" (she was an Episcopalian).  She also smoked, liked a cocktail, played cards, danced, and spoke her mind.  Very unlike the other Moms in town!

My cousin Don made us feel very welcome; he always did.  Of all my relatives from my Dad's side of the family, he has a special place in my affections.  So my sons and grandson had a grand time in the equipment barn on his farm!
Martin Keck climbed up the two stories
to sit in the cab of my Cousin Don's
new Tractor.
Matt Keck and my grandson Mateo
also made the 2-story climb.  Thrilling!


After the family gathering in the big converted 3-car garage at Don & Betty's, we did a bit of of drive down memory lane.   Nappanee can be a great town for tourists, with its Amish community and somewhat held-back-in-time feeling.  

The whole family at the lunch counter
at the Drive-In restaurant my Dad used to own:
called Howard's Drive-In in the 1960's and early 70's


There are more parts to the Going Home story, and I'll spin them out over time.  But be forewarned: the Going Home events of 2020-2021 show a different side of Nappanee, Indiana than the tourism groups might promote... 



Khmer Kingdoms 2013: Thailand, Burma, Laos & Cambodia


Khmer Kingdoms Tour, February 2013
 
 
Angkor Wat has been on my "bucket list" for several years.  I'd been told that it was trecherous walking and possibly slippery, so I waited until my broken-nakle-of-summer-2008 was well healed before contemplating a trip like this.  Then, those great tour oerganizers at Archaeological Tours put together a compelling itinerary for 22 days in February 2013.  This tour will go again, so if you are interested in the day-by-day, here it is:  http://www.archaeologicaltrs.com/as_khmer.htmls   For now, the lure of the brochure:
 
This tour will focus on the historical, ethnographic and religious aspects of these exotic lands. We begin in Myanmar (Burma), closed to foreigners from 1961 until recent years; its glittering pagodas, golden temples and saffron-robed monks create a wondrous atmosphere of vibrant color. We will have the unique opportunity to see this picturesque and gentle land on the threshold of transformation. Our visits will include ancient royal capitals, deserted royal cities as well as some of the thousands of pagodas and temples.
Thailand offers an exotic blend of ancient history and natural beauty. For nearly two thousand years its countryside has seen rulers and cities rise and fall, and for the last thousand it has been the heartland of Theravada Buddhism. Much of this legacy remains in the art and architecture of its temples and towns and the still-honored customs of earlier court-centered civilizations. Our tour will explore this past by visiting the major Khmer ruins in remote Isan (northeastern Thailand) and slip into Laos to see the magnificent 7th-century Khmer ruins of Wat Phou.
Cambodia is a country of contrasts; active Buddhist monasteries, teeming markets, spectacular palaces and, of course, the incomparable complex of Angkor Wat. Our time will be divided between bustling Phnom Penh and serene Siem Reap, where our five days will provide ample time to explore the Angkor ruins from every perspective. As we travel through these wonderful places, we will have the opportunity to experience traditional music and dance, sample the local foods, examine crafts and explore lively markets.
 
Dr Cooler in action
Our accompanying archaeologist, Dr. Richard Cooler, was a wonderful lecturer and guide to the cultures.  He first came to Burma in the 1970's as I recall, and his stories are entertaining and educational.  His CV:  Professor of Art History and Director of the Center for Burma Studies at Northern Illinois University. He has lived, lectured, and conducted research in Thailand, Burma and Malaysia for many years. An accomplished lecturer, he received a Fulbright to develop a curriculum in Southeast Asian art and archaeology while teaching at the University of Sains, Malaysia. Professor Cooler recently published his book, The Magic Pond: The Karen Bronze Drums of Burma. He has been leading tours to Southeast Asia for Archaeological Tours for over 15 years
 
 
So away I went....
 

January 31, 2013: En Route to Bangkok via Hong Kong

It is overcast here at the airport at 7:40 a.m. Hong Kong time... that is 16 hours ahead of San Francisco (Bangkok will be 17 hours ahead). I used to fly into Hong Kong a lot in the early 90's, enroute to cover stories that helped open Asian markets for Service Tool on Hainan Island (new press for making easy-open can tops for soft drinks), to Jakarta to learn about corrugated industry for James River, to Manila to look at desiccated coconut dryers for Proctor & Schwartz, to Singapore to look at the sachet (pouch) making machines for ketchup for McDonald's. It was pretty thrilling then with the old airport, because the tips of the aircraft wings barely missed the apartment buildings lining the flight corridor...you could almost make out the patterns in the underwear hung out to dry on the balconies. I chose a window seat for the flight from HK to Bangkok, so I can see what the new airport flight pattern is....I'm sure it is safer, but then the adventure lessens, doesn't it?

Whatever I do on this trip, I am protected from evil because Sofia insisted that Matt make the sign of the cross before I got into his car for the ride to the airport last night. I now remember a funny thing an irreverent client of mine once told me about the sign of the cross... he said that in his youth, it was easy to remember the correct motions and order (and mind you, this recollection of his dated from the days when men wore suit jackets with inside pockets...) by this little ditty: spectacles, testicles, wallet, comb.

I'd heard that there is a lot of wealth in China these days, but still I was startled to see so many Chinese traveling. In the "old" days, HK airport had a predominance of Western faces. No more.

I already know that a challenge here is going to be to keep my sodium intake down, so my feet don't swell and my cranky toes act up. I saw on CNN in the lounge that the new dietary guidelines are 2 mg of sodium a day... down from 5... HELLO ! Put those salt shakers away! There is some kind of entrail-looking stew available for breakfast in the airport lounge. I voted for the egg and tomato sandwich instead.

February 1, 2013:   Bangkok - Day One report, and Day Two events planned

I traded for a window seat on the flight from Hong Kong to Bangkok, but it didn't make any difference in visibility. Hong Kong air is a mess. That is probably due to its own industrial activities, but one wonders how much pollution is drifting over from mainland China. I think by now that everyone who reads a newspaper, watches TV, or listens to the radio has heard about the dangerous air quality in Beijing recently.

 

Still, it was nice to 1) have a hot meal on a short flight ... remember those days in the USA? And Cathay Pacific 2) seems to choose only young pretty girls as flight attendants.... remember those days in the USA?

 

As we approached Bangkok, I looked out the window to see my first view of Thailand.... and what I saw at 11 in the morning was a bright blue sky where the airplane was operating, and below, a deep pink line denominating the layer of pollution wherever you looked. Sad to say, the situation on the ground is pretty grim air-wise too. Add to that, the humidity is about 150%. But the taxi from the airport to downtown was somewhat air conditioned, and so, after about an hour of the most horrible traffic I have seen in a long time, I arrived at the Hansar hotel. It is around the corner from the Four Seasons in downtown Bangkok, and so, a pretty nice neighborhood.


My room wasn't quite ready, so get this... the Director of Rooms upgraded me to a wonderful room with its own living room. The Thai hospitality is of course widely rumored, but I must say that I am experiencing it first-hand. I loved having breakfast in a hotel restaurant where your plate is whisked away as soon as you are done with the last bite. So nice to have a tidy table at which to settle in and read the Bangkok Post.


I walked in the heat, smog and humidity for 15 minutes to go to a big department store complex, Central World, and got a cell phone ($17) and a bunch of minutes. Also a hat for the trip ahead that will protect my face and neckback, and a lightweight cotton nightgown. Haven't worn such nightclothes in a long time in the USA, and so.... buy local. Oh they had a Hagen Dazs shop there where the ice cream scoopers actually give you a glass of water and guide you to a cute seating area. All this for a $7 dish of 2 scoops. Apart from that naughty treat, prices so far are very reasonable. The experience was fun, despite being almost run over by a rapidly-moving suddenly-left turning moped at a walkway. These moped drivers live dangerously, it seems to me... real Evil Knievals navigating the bumper to bumper traffic on the narrow-laned 6-across highways into and within Bangkok. (Oh! That's where the pollution comes from!)

Then, a quick shower and nap, and my HBS 76 classmate Pote Videt picked me up (or at least, his car and driver picked us BOTH up) and squired us to the first meeting of the HBS Club of Thailand. I met a very interesting group of people: a member of parliament in Thailand, the director of the huge hospital complex was at the HBS meeting, and.... lots of other folks too...country director for General Motors, Excellence director for Bristol Myers, etc. 
  

February 3, 2013:  Bangkok – Markets, Mopeds and Malls

I've done it...completely over jetlag and ready for my real trip to begin.
 
This downtown Bangkok hotel, the Hansar, is located on a street that runs between the Four Seasons and the St. Regis, but due to the wonders of www.agoda.com, I got quite a good rate. Make a note of this website if you are looking for hotels in SE Asia. 
 



I am venturing out today to try the Bangkok Skytrain, including changing stations, and take myself to the famous Weekend Market. I've been cautioned about the pickpockets and so will do the usual thing and stuff money in my bra. :-) That way, if I am pickpocketed, a least I will get a cheap thrill for the price.

It was a mere half block walk to the main road, turn left, go up the stairs, and then try to figure out the Skytrain system. This is Bangkok's version of the subway system, but it is overhead. I guess the water table is too high to dig anything subterranean (do you remember last year's newspaper photos of the streets of Bangkok submerged?) For 35 baht, or $1.17, I bought a ticket to the end of the line, where the big Weekend Market is located. It was kind of thrilling to get off at a station called "Siam" to change trains, but no big deal....walk 40 steps across the platform and there was the next train already waiting. Although the Skytrains are crowded, that might be an a result of everyone going to the Weekend market... it is a big deal. But the trains are clean and... air conditioned!
Food vendors at Skytrain stairs

 

Flip-flop vendors at Weekend Market
A short walk thought a city park takes you to the stalls of the Weekend Market. Many stalls are outside, particularly the food vendors (don't worry, it is too early in the trip to chance street food) and then there are acres and acres of little shops under a roof. These are the quintessential family-owned businesses, with everyone from the three-year-olds folding and re-arranging goods after buyers sort through the piles of merchandize, to the pre-teens wiping off the glass of display cases, to teenagers putting in new watch batteries, and everyone older than that being quite prepared to sell and, of course, bargain. You wouldn't want to insult a businessperson here by paying full price, after all. The bargaining is part of the sales transaction, and expected. Don't speak Thai? No worries. The bargaining takes place back and forth on a handheld calculator. 850 baht for that watch? Wave your hand in a parallel motion toward the ground, and the calculator then shows 750. And so on.

 
Many of the food vendors who have actual shops on the periphery of the market offer tables, chairs, and disco music blaring out loudly. Teenagers gyrate. It is all great fun!

 
Lunch with my friend Kathleen's stepson, Spencer, was another eye opener. Here is a young man who was so motivated by one of his professors at the MBA program at USF that he put on a backpack and headed to SE Asia upon graduation. Over the past few years, he has worked in Cambodia, and now Thailand. Hard work and a knowledge of technology counts here in SE Asia, and he has figured out the life of an ex-Pat and learned to enjoy his surroundings. I was impressed. "I feel so alive here," Spencer said. "So much opportunity..."

 
Well, I still have my pre-trip reading to do, and re-packing for the trip to remote areas. This afternoon I will be leaving the downtown and headed to the airport hotel to meet up with the Archaelogical Tours group.  

February 3, 2013:  Going to Burma

Our intrepid 22 at Angkor Wat
Early wake-up call because immigration at Bangkok airport has very long lines... but I have by now met 6 or 8 folks in the group and they all seem quite reasonable. No fashion plates or blue-blood types, just normal folks who like to travel.

 
The buzz about Burma is good. I have 2 sets of friends who have gone in the last three months, and no negative reports. Everyone says that it is very interesting, and so... off we go!


Getting the message out
in no uncertain terms at
shops in Bangkok airport
The Bangkok airport international departures terminal is a shopper’s heaven. But my baggage is already 21.2 kilo, I am only allowed 20, but smiles go a long way... nonetheless, no shopping prospects until en route back to SFO. I will relieve my case of 1 kilo when I hand out the Valentine's Day goodie bags that I prepared for my fellow travelers.  Always nice to have a touch of hometown America while you travel!

 

February 4, 2013:  Burma and Buddha, Temples and Travel

ShweDagon Pagoda, Yangon
Pouring a Blessing
on a Buddha at
Shwe Dagon, while
a spirit statue
watches over
There's a lot of talk about doing things in an auspicious way, when you are in a Buddhist temple. First, let's get a few things clear: a pagoda is just a lazy way of talking about Buddhist and Hindu religious structures...leave it to the Brits to shorthand things like this when building The Empire. A temple is a place where monks hang out and where religious events take place. A stupa, on the other hand, has a relic in it... that makes it really really special... and the relic, it seems, must be something that came from the actual Buddha.... a fragment of his tooth left after his cremation, a hair he gave someone who offered him rice milk and honey when he was thirsty etc.... and so this stupa to which our group went today, the Shwe Dagon "pagoda" was just incredible. It is probably the most important religious place in all of Myanmar (aka Burma).  (pronounced  Me Oh Ma)
The sun is scorching
in Burma, and most
children wear a paste-like
sunscreen ground from wood
It is auspicious to walk in a clockwise way around the main structure. Why? Well, the right hand is the clean hand, and the left hand is used for... ahem... cleanliness functions... so if you walk around the main tower clockwise, you see, the right hand is nearest the tower under which the relic is encased.

However, this day started out in a rather inauspicious way, and I am not talking about walking counterclockwise around a tower with my unclean hand closest to the relic. I am talking about the onboard computer that shut down the Bangkok Air flight when the pilot was going full throttle down the runway to take off for Yangon.

I guess that's good. I understand from some of the techie guys in the group that the blown tire would not have performed well in a landing scenario, and the pilot didn't detect it. The computer did. Needless to say, the other tires overheated with such a sudden stop.  Great odor on the plane!  After a while, the airline brought a bus out, and offloaded us and then loaded us up again 4 hours later... onto a different plane. So we all got to Yagon (the Rangoon of Kipling's time) in the afternoon. But our luggage did not.
A while-you-wait
tailor shop in the market
We re-arranged touring plans and went to see a local market.  Great introduction to the sights, smells and sounds!

Then off we went to the Shwe Dagon pagoda (photos and commentary above).  We ended this re-arranged day by having to sit down for dinner at the Savoy Hotel, stinky and annoyed. Finally, at 9:15 p.m., luggage has arrived.  That would be 9:45 Bangkok time. Burma is 1/2 hour behind Bangkok. Crazy, huh?  Gotta roll with the punches on these trips!


You have to take off your shoes in stupa and temple, by the way. And your socks stockings etc. This was all right at 4 p.m., but in future days with the sun glaring down on the marble tiles, ouch ouch ouch! Stay tuned on that one.

But for now, I am going to dig out the soap and shampoo and get ready for tomorrow's traveling delights. I have a feeling in my gut that there will be more leetle glitches coming our way. They might have a Starbuck's in the airport, but that doesn't mean they are ready for tourists...

 

February 6, 2013:  Mandalay – Ferries, Carts and Crafts
 
Yangon Airways got us to Mandalay pretty handily. Not sure I am comforted by their slogan, but at least no surprises on the tarmac. 


Mandalay royal craft guild
- stonecarvers of
Buddha and other temple trimmings


Mandalay -- it sounded romantic on the tour brochure, and in fact this is a fairly spectacular destination. The hotel our group is staying at is pretty fancy -- it certainly belies the still-rustic nature of much of the nearby countryside.

For example, to cross a river to get to Ava, the 14th-century Burmese capital, we took a "ferry" -- a motorized wooden boat with a flew slats laid across it for seating. The moveability of these slats are important for the commercial success of the ferry... if they had been fixed in place, then it would have been impossible to get the mopeds on the ferry too.

On the other side of the Myit Nge River, horse drawn carts waited for tourists. A few bumpy miles down rutted paths to see a wooden monastery convinced me that just maybe... I don't want to do the Route 50 wagon train this early June in California. Suffice it to say that I have a greater appreciation for the bone-jarring nature of travel by the early American settlers and I am grateful for their sacrifices.  
 

Young Buddhist monk
near Ava, where there is
a wooden monastery
 We visited a lot of craft-makers today: those who make the lacquered bowls in which monks receive offerings of food (when you give a monk something... food, money, clothing... it is shared with the rest of the guys in the monastery...but I digress), those who carve stone into statues and other parts of Buddhist monuments, those who weave fabric, those who embellish fabric, and so on. Regardless of what the craft was, it seemed that the workshops were mostly located in dusty areas.

Add the dust to the prevailing smog that is caused by burning the chaff off the rice fields (it is that time of year in agribusiness here, apparently), and then voila! you have that early morning hacking cough.


Three major topics to photograph:  1)  Buddhist stupa, temples and monasteries. 2)  Monks and street scenes (the two are in one topic group because, you see, monks in their red, orange, brown robes and nuns in their pink robes are EVERYWHERE you look...).  And 3)  offerings of water.

In Buddhism, you receive "merit" (think: pennies in heaven, but ummmm no heaven in this religion) when you make offerings to monks and, in the instance of water, to passersby. Water is so key to this country... rice is a wet ag product, you see. And the big rivers that dissect Burma were of course major transport routes. But during the dry season, drinking water can be scarce and so folks put urns of water and metal cups out in front of their houses and shops. What a juxtaposition with our cities in America, where public drinking fountains are disappearing rapidly!

Today is our last day in Mandalay. Tomorrow we go to Bagan, which was the first capital of united Burma, founded in 900 CE and containing over 5,000 pagodas and temples. Bet I'll see a few monks there too...
And in case you want to know… This segment brought to you by ibuprofen, the wooden-cart-riders' best friend!

February 9, 2013: Buddha-ed out.... almost

Today in Bagan... also known as Pagan (pah gone) as opposed to Pagan (pay gan) and it most certainly is not pagan, I mean, how could it be pagan when it is filled with karma, giving manifold opportunities for merit-making (not merry-making) ... I saw at least a zillion Buddhist stupa, temples, and images of Buddha in various states on his way to nirvana.

Balloons over Bagan
Sunset on the
Irrawaddy

 

 


Get up time today was 4:30 because those of us who paid a bit extra to take a hot air balloon ride over Bagan had to meet the bus at 5. We had an opportunity to see the sun come up over one of Bagan's 1200+ temples/stupa while the balloons were inflating. Sixteen to a basket, and away we go. AFter brushing the bit of ash out of my hair (what do you expect when a propane burner flares overhead for 30 minutes), I relaxed and enjoyed the hour ride. Don't worry, you will have plenty of photos to view. And, as in the hot air balloon rides in wine country, this one ends with champagne and a few things you won't necessarily be served in wine country, like papaya freshly cut. www.balloonsoverbagan.com for more photos.


Making an offering
at a temple with a
LARGE monk's bowl



Then we headed out for some serious temple-viewing. My wimpy broken left toes are okay for an hour at a time... because it is shoes (and socks) off in these temples. For the most part, walking on the marble tiles is okay... it is the broken cement in places that is a killer for the tender-of-foot. Next time I come to a Buddhist area, I shall somehow toughen my feet up beforehand!

Most of our meals are taken at open air restaurants on the bank of the Irrawaddy River. I quickly learned to avoid most everything that comes in an orange-colored sauce. This is a result of trial and error, the trial resulting in a rapid rise from the table while I choked, coughed and tried to catch my breath, and the error ...well, no error like THAT in the future of this trip. Luckily for me there is a foodie couple from Santa Fe who likes things hot and they clue me in aforehand.

 The shopping has been fun. I confess, I will buy almost anything offered by a child vendor. So I have a small collection of hand-drawn daisies, horses (I think they are horses...) and sunrises. Also mysterious candies, necklaces, tattered used books, etc. There are no social nets in Burma for old people, and so, there are a fair number of contributions that come the way of toothless old ladies. I may be one someday myself...

Tomorrow is another early get-up to go on a horsecart ride and see the sunrise over the temples. We shall see if the little kids got it right...

 

February 10, 2013:   Cloudy today in Bagan

Aarrgh, the third morning of a wake-up call at 5:30. But well worth it. There were fifty percent of the group who chose this option instead of sleeping in. We walked to the end of the road that the hotel is on and were greeted by 10 horses and carriages...and in we clambered. Down to the main drag, across a dusty path, and to the base of a decommissioned monastery. Up some sandy, slanted, narrow, high, dark and precarious stairs to the roof. We stood and watched the sun come up... or try to. Clouds started to form on the horizon, but still the tops of the stupa (stupas? help me out here!) were lit with a golden glow and it was nice to see the village come awake. A rickety bus with what sounded like a large old putt-putt-putt lawnmower engine chugged by, with the seats filled with ochre robed monks, and then another layer of monks riding on the top of the bus. Riding on the top of busses is pretty par for the course here. Would you believe... NO seatbelt laws! Harrumph!   


After the sunrise, our buggies took us on an extended tour down back lanes and rutted paths, through a thicket of stupa. We must have passed at least a hundred of them in the 30 minute ride. Already people were on their way to leave offerings of flowers and to say their prayers before the Buddha statues within.


Novitiate

Novitiate
Procession for
Young
Monks-to-be
Next stop was a trip to the volcanic mountain about an hour away. We were lucky to pass a procession on the side of the road where young boys were on their way in fancy bullock carts, or seated on horses with their parents at the side, to receive their monks robes. Becoming a novitiate is very important in the life of a Burmese boy; every boy is expected to spend some time in a monastery. For some, it is only 24 hours, for others it is months and years. Depends on the boy. The longer the boy is in a monastery, the more acceptable he becomes in society and the more desirable as a husband. Of course monks are celibate. There are, however, "career" monks who stay for decades. Monks are taken care of by the people, who provide them with food, clothing, alms. Some monks are kinda adopted by rich folks who provide them with Mercedes, TV's etc. Giving things to a monk or a monastery is one way to receive "merit"... I think I have referred before to this pennies-in-heaven concept. 

Very young
Novitiate monk
 
The princess-dressed
girls come next
 

Preceding the novitiates was a long line of girls and young women from the village, dressed in their finery and bearing flowers. After the novitiates came little girls in horse-drawn carriages, also accompanied by their proud mothers. They were on their way to get their ears pierced, which is an important ceremony in the Buddhist practice here. Our guide said that the girls had already had their ears pierced, and this was mostly ceremonial.

Following all was a cart containing drums and other instruments. The ceremony and celebration, wherever it was going to be held, would be a noisy one.

We were lucky to see this, because it is not really "the season" for such ceremonies.

The monastery on the
mountain in the valley
near Mt Popa
The drive up the mountain was lovely, and of course there was the temple there. This one is dedicated to the "Nats" who are spirits that can do harm or good, depending on how they are treated. "Nats", as I understand it, are not exactly Buddhist strictly speaking, but Buddhism has some elements of animism and local tradition too.

The somewhat-disappointing sunrise presaged a cloudy afternoon here, but that's okay with me. It gives me time to catch up with reading. I mentioned that the children sell books? So I now have a small pile of books on life in Burma, and hope to get through those before we move on to Laos.

Tomorrow is going to be a long travel day. We fly back to Yangon (formerly Rangoon), have lunch and then go visit the big vegetable market, and then fly to Bangkok. It's not possible to fly from Burma to Laos... Bangkok is the hub.  

What the future holds:  Laos is a series of one-night-stands, so time and internet connection might be dear.

  February 12, 2013:   Laos, the War on Vietnam, and more on food

Mekong River
from hotel in
Pakse, Laos

Yesterday we crossed over the border from Thailand to Laos. This was accomplished by flying to a town in Thailand named Ubon, getting on the most pimped-out bus I have ever seen, and driving to the Laotian border. There was time for a quick run to the nearest market-stall for a Coke LIght, and then of course the inevitable wait wait wait.    
Coke Light at foodstall
 


Going (once again) through Thai immigration was easy. I can fill out those immigration departure and landing cards in my sleep. This tour, because we go back and forth between 4 countries, some of which do not have airlines that fly from one to another but only to Bangkok, means a lot of departure and landing cards. This time, however, instead of boarding a flight, we went through a tunnel and emerged the other side in Laos. The immigration agent there took a long time, about 5 minutes per person. We are 24 persons including our lecturer and tour expediter. Finally Mary Lou our tour expediter, gathered all the passports and paperwork, and marched bravely into the building with a bunch of local currency. Expedited. That's how it works sometimes in these still-developing countries.  
 


Mary-Lou Leddy,
our tour manager


The transition to Laos was a marked one... from prosperity to trying-hard. I think, as a hardcore capitalist, that a big problem here is the "elected" Communist government. Suffice it to say that the standard of living dropped several notches over the border. The dust quotient, however, picked up.

We visited a tea plantation. To me, the most notable thing there was the ingenious rainwater capture system that the farmer and his family had rigged up... from thatch roof to a kind of makeshift gutter, through some PVC pipe to another roof level, into another PVC pipe that stretched across the driveway and into a little shed that had some other pipes coming out of it. I thought for a moment that it was a still, but no corn is around to make mash.... so, no.

The green tea was bitter. I passed on buying any of it.

When we got settled into the hotel for lunch, it finally happened. The dreaded big fish with bulging eyes appeared in a thin broth with vegetables clinging around the edges. The restaurant served a dish that looked pretty appealing, but only one of us put it on our plates before Mary Lou careened down the table and whisked it away to the kitchen. Rumor has it that she gave the cooks some hard instructions about how Americans (at least HER tour group) are not to be fed anything that is not thoroughly cooked. This is in no way a diss against Mary Lou.... so far, no travelers trots or whatever the SE Asian version of Montezuma's Revenge is called.

HOT sauce!
I took time this early evening to go to a local supermarket. After decades of being involved in food and beverages and their processing and packaging, this supermarket check for me is always an essential stop. If no supermarket is in sight, of course, there are the market stalls to look over. But this was a real supermarket. Vegetarians of the world rejoice! Here you can find Pringles chips made of seaweed! Dozens of noodle looking packets (dried). Next to the Heinz ketchup is Heinz pepper-sauce. A variety of edible oils in containers from 5 gallons on down. A row of laundry detergents of which the most prominent is one with the brand name "USA" . Hundreds of candies (I like these folks, the have a sweet tooth to match mine...but I have toothpaste and don't chew betelnut so my teeth are prettier...) . Wines. Oh yes. French. Some Australian. A Chilean malbec. And… Gallo.  It was great fun for me to wander around for an hour.

During the day today and for a few days past, as we get closer to the Ho Chi Minh trail, the memories of living in the time of the Vietnam War impinge on our group. And the draft and its consequences. I do not think that any of the men in our group fought in this war, but I'm not sure. Some of the guys were married and had children already. Others considered moving to Canada (but didn't). Thoughts of how to game the physical that draft boards gave crossed almost everyone's mind in the 1960's. My first husband, Gerry, had so many problems stemming from his rheumatic fever as a child that he was a 4-F (not fit to fight). I remember the relief we both felt when that 4F came through. (this is, however, a man who died at age 33...) My ex, Chad, as a West Pointer, went to Vietnam with 100% of his class. Fifty percent returned.

Those were difficult days. I marched against the war in the streets of New Brunswick. Yet I grew up winning essay contests at the Nappanee VFW hall on topics dealing with patriotism. A conflicting time in our American society. So sad.

Some of the positive offshoots of that time were the infrastructure improvements made by the US Army in these countries we are visiting. Bridges. Airstrips. Roads.

Still... was it worth it? A war that tore apart our country....and decimated most of SouthEast Asia.  So sad.



February 15, 2013:   Buses, Buffalo and Karma


A short dispatch today since I have been under the weather with a cold of the hacking cough variety. Rather than subject my fellow travelers to that, I decided to 1) ride in the back of the bus and 2) sit out a day. So I am writing from Korat, Thailand, where I finally saw the light and said to myself, "hmmm they must have pharmacists somewhere in this town" and went on a walkabout to find some version of Nyquil. Success! Although it does make me drowsy but that is better than continuing on my sore-ribcage path from the coughing.

To get from Laos to Thailand, the simplest way is to drive. I've already talked about the startling difference between the two countries that happens right at the border. We had a long drive from Ubon to Korat yesterday, cruising along the side of the Cambodian border but on the Thai side...but a few notable observations...

There are loads of double-decker and tandem trucks on the road. One double-decker was filled with brand new shiny motorbikes. The tandem was filled with locally grown potatoes. There are also trucks with mandarin oranges....an import from China.

The plight of the average farmer in Thailand is not awful. It costs 30 Thai Baht, or $1 US, for a doctor visit. Smart of the government to institute this good level of health care, and according to our lecturer, that positively took the wind out of the sails of the Communist party here.

Lots of water buffalo at the side of the road. This is an area where most of the rice is dry farmed (no irrigation) to there is only one crop a year. What water is captured is funneled into roadside ponds, and that is where the water buffalo are taken to bathe once a day. This is essential because otherwise their skin would crack. Bathing the water buffalo is the job of the small boys in the village, who will bathe with the buffalo at the same time, and frolic with them. As big as they are, they are docile unless provoked, although there is more than one story of US soldiers who provoked a water buffalo and found the jeep on its side.

If a farmer has a water buffalo, that pretty well indicates that he is poor, because he has not raised enough buffalo to sell them and buy a small tractor.

The rice farming here is slash-and-burn, and that of course contributes to the pollution problem in this and other SE Asian countries. Sadly, the rice produced by the Green Revolution was not attractive to consume by the people... someone should have done some consumer research first. Most of that rice goes to feed buffalo.

A few notes about karma. If a child is born less than perfect, for example mentally handicapped, it is generally considered by these Hindu-oriented people in Thailand, that this is due to bad karma in the child's past life, and NOT what parents did in their past lives. Therefore there is more acceptance in the villages for such children, and they are treated well. Better luck next life, I guess.

One startling sight on the side of the road is a statue of an American Indian in full headdress, seated on a white horse. Go figure.

Lots of 7-11s here, featuring gas, convenience stores, ATM's and of course toilets. No one has started ranking the toilets, but they are universally not up to my standard of cleanliness. Hard to keep things clean with all the dust and humidity, I suppose.

Our drive included a stop to tour Ayutthaya, which was the capital of Siam from 1350 to 1767. Not far from the site is the National Museum. We were there on a holiday, vying with the groups of schoolchildren for a look at the fabulous collection of gold jewelry and religious objects dating from the glory of Ayutthaya.

Ayutthaya

Treasure from
National museum
 





 
 
In this part of the trip, we've been seeing a lot of Hindu temples, most dating from the 11th-14th centuries. And Buddhist temples too.  There is a lot of work being done with reconstruction, and improving the tourist infrastructure.

Temple site being
re-constructed
Shrine created by
local people,
behind the temple at Prasat





 
Making peace with a Hindu god
at Wat Prasat Phanom Rung, Laos
 
Of course the big bonanza is next week at Angkor. 25 square miles of temples. To give you a perspective, Manhattan is just 24 square miles....
 

 February 18, 2013:  You've got to be crazy to drive in Phnom Penh

Night traffic in
Phnom Penh
from a Tuk-Tuk
Last night I was feeling adventurous, and took a tuk-tuk by myself from the Camdodiana hotel in Phnom Penh to the night market while the others went to a late supper (they feed us too much on this trip anyway). The hotel desk clerk was kind enough to call a tuk-tuk up from the street, as they are tacitly prohibited from hanging around the tourist hotels.  A tuk-tuk is a contraption powered by a motorcycle with a carriage of sorts affixed to the back... a long bench seat for 3, and a smaller backward-facing seat for one. (Usual capacity, our guide said with a grin, is four Americans or 8 Cambodians.) There is a canopy over all, and handrails in the event that you need a quick grab when a careen through the traffic is required. Which is often the case....

Apart from the sweet smell of exhaust at street level which is, after all, a part of the low-cost-ride deal, this is not a ride for the claustrophobics among us. Cars, buses, motorbikes, bicycles, food vendor carts, trucks ... every means of wheeled conveyance that sees fit to be on the boulevards of Phnom Penh are close at hand. Close enough to touch. Some are driving in the wrong direction, streams of motorbikes lunge out of side streets and cut other traffic off, families 4-to-a-motorbike are perilously close, and so on. But it will take a while for more autos to come. I am thankful for that... would spoil the character of this absolutely charming city. The reason, however, has nothing to do with character-keeping and more with the fact that a new car costs around $150,000 US.

The night market was a disappointment merchandise-wise -- lots of cheap stuff from China, nothing local. But in the midst of the plaza were spread out a half-football field are of woven poly mats, and the mats were ringed with food stalls of all kinds. Picnic time! A stage featured wanna-be stars, and the music is Western tonalities and love-songy type of things. Demographics, 20-somethings through late 30-somethings.

The demographics are not surprising. You don't have to reach far back in memory to recall the Killing Fields of Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge. How would a country allow this to happen? Is it something in the Cambodian national character? A number of us have been quietly discussing this, and an emerging consensus is that the terror of wartime, with bombings and killings so seemingly random, allow evil to emerge in humankind. A kind of PTSD, in a way. We have our own behavior to account for in places like Abu Grahib, so there can be no sense of moral superiority. But a whole generation of Cambodia was extinguished, with the educated and intellectual class (read: folks like us) the prime targets, and then, anyone affiliated with those members... infants, children, colleagues, extended family. Horrifying. The result is all around me today... a demographically-young society still struggling with the demons of the past, a town of re-building everywhere, and a sense of needing to catch up commercially with the rest of the world.

Phnom Penh is in the best shape it's been for a long time, notes our lecturer, since the recent funeral of the long-time president called for a general repainting, replanting and overall cleanup of the town. It is a colonial City, the capital of Cambodia when it was a French colony. It is laid out a bit like Paris... with boulevards quite wide, an ArtDeco market we will see, and a monument (Independence Monument) in the focal point of the main boulevard,( Norodom Boulevard) , copied in style from the Champs Elyssee.


View that shows
French influence
from the dining area
of the FCC

Phnom Penh is built at the confluence of four great rivers, the Tonle Sap, the Upper Mekong, the Lower Mekong and the Bassac. At two million people, it is Cambodia's commercial capital... there are only 15 million people in all of the country. At 15 million, this country is smaller in population than the city of Bangkok.

My sense is that this is an easy place to visit on one's own. The American dollar is the accepted currency (but they want crispy new bills dated 2006 or newer...), the tourist infrastructure is developed, enough English is spoken to get out and about on one's own, the hotels are great and inexpensive, the food is marvelous with a haute cuisine tradition Asian-style, and sidewalk cafe's abound with a mixture of French, English, German, Swiss, Swedish... you name it... everyone comes to Phnom Penh .

Today we lunched at the famed FCC, the Foreign Correspondent's Club, which is a public bar and restaurant along the Tonle Sap
river, not far from the conjunction with the Mekong river. It is often referred to as 'the FCC,' or just simply 'the F.' It is in a three-storey colonial-style building with wonderful views over the river. I've clipped a bit from an Australian newspaper article about the FCC, so you can get more flavor of the historical background...

""Expats flocked to the place; and as Pol Pot took his final stand in the jungle, so journalists filed breaking stories from the "F", including Nate Thayer, the correspondent for the Far Eastern Economic Review, who famously scored the last interview with the elusive Khmer Rouge dictator. Thayer, it is rumoured, had a penchant for randomly shooting automatic weapons from tall buildings — as did several other regulars at the FCC. According to Hayward, many a bullet was fired from the balustrade in those early days, fuelled by alcohol and the frontier spirit that permeated the city. This was the wild, wild east — but in a lawless city where kidnapping, assassinations, rapes and theft were rife, the "F" was a haven of relative sanity and probably the safest place to be." Read more: http://www.smh.com.au/travel/happy-hour-on-the-mekong-20100304-plct.html#ixzz2LFoiMQY

Not far from the FCC are some of the most interesting shopping streets I have ever seen. Cambodian silk is wonderful, and many boutiques design dresses, handbags etc using this material. It's difficult to get too enthusiastic about shopping when the humidity is high and the outside temperature rising, but the shops feature items so beautifully fabricated and presented that it's like going to a series of art galleries

My shopping score of the day (sit down, friends!) was two vintage Hawaiian print shirts.... not my fault... I had to get something short sleeved for this upcoming hot part of the trip and like a dummy I packed only long sleeved safari-type shirts. What WAS I thinking? Not to worry... no Bermuda shorts in my suitcase yet....

Tomorrow we board yet ANOTHER flight and travel to Siem Reap, wherein the ruins of Angkor, the great Khmer temple complex, are located. All 25 square miles of ‘em. Can hardly wait!

February 20, 2013:  Angkor -  Torch bearers, heat, and the ravages of humidity 


Angkor Thom

After a blistering hot day yesterday, the pool at the Angkor Sofitel was too inviting to pass by. This lovely hotel, a respite from the absolutely BEASTLY weather, is built to be beautiful every way you turn. The pool has curves that provide lagoon-like places for languorous swims, a plateau area where water jets gently spurt every 3 feet for 4 long rows, and some other nice features. After a quick dip, it didn't take long to air-dry in one of the lounges at pool side (nothing takes long to air dry at 90+F) and the sun dipped down behind the hotel to cool off to, say 85. A porter from the hotel carried a torch at a stately and steady pace, lighting the poolside torches and the paths from the walkways that lead to the pool. Guests dressed in the beige robes provided by the hotel rose up and walked to rooms to dress for dinner. These ghostly figures in the early evening light were evocative of Hindu spirits.

There is a ghostly sense to Angkor. These magnificent buildings dedicated primarily to Hindu gods and goddesses with an overlay of Buddhist elements. have survived for almost a millennium despite the humidity, hordes, rain, and ravages of other kinds. Wars between the Cambodians and their traditional enemies the Vietnamese, invasions by India, France, and more... it's all here and echoes again and again in the architecture, the pace, the face of the people.





Blind land mine victims
play music for donations,
near an Angkor temple



A band of 5 blind musicians was playing a haunting and atonal melody near one of the gates of the crumbled temple we visited. I put some cash in their collection box, and then noticed the sign in front of the box: land mine survivors.

We haven't talked much about Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge, one of the great genocides of all times carried out against any family where a member had even a bit of education. But the reminders are everywhere and I guess they will be for many many generations to come. Despite this, the Cambodians are a welcoming people.

Angkor is lively with tour groups. We often have to stand aside to let the groups of Koreans, Japanese, Chinese, French, English etc tours push past, so we can hear our lecturer. The popularity of the site has of course encouraged the theft of artifacts. Hard to know if it is the poor farmers nearby, or gangs of organized art thieves that make lots of money on the international market. Regardless, it is a lucrative business, and the Park conservators have put mines around the monuments to discourage the thieves. Grim business.

We had our first casualty of heat and humidity, as one of the older gentlemen on the tour just seemed to crumple and fall down right in the middle of an on-site lecture. Heat stroke. Lucky for him we were on a grassy walkway around the perimeter of the temple. It's not fun; happened to me at the Taj Mahal in 1978 and the best remedy the Indians had was to throw me in a bathtub with cool water, bring ice, and make me soak for an hour. OUr fellow traveler had the benefit of an IV at the local hospital.... modern medicine.

I am at the point where I have seen 6 temples including Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom, and it's feeling like quite enough. I'm putting myself on a half-day program for the next two days, and I'll watch some documentaries in my cool hotel room instead. I'm pretty hardy, but this is 'way too much.

Now a bit of advice: if you come, December is the best month. Don't do as I do... do as I say!
 

February 22, 2013:  Angkor Wat, Thom, and a bunch of others


Were it not for Angkor Wat, perhaps all the other wonders of the great archaeological park that makes up the treasures of Angkor, the quintessential jewel of Khmer architecture and religion, might not have survived the onslaught of climate and conflict of the last 1000 years. I always thought of Angkor Wat as the destination, but it turns out that there are dozens of notable and beautiful structures near Siem Reap.

 Ankor Wat is the temple complex that was used as a monastery for part of its history, and a mausoleum as well; therefore it survived and provided a kind of umbrella effect to keep the other structures from being completely demolished.

By the 5th century, the rulers of this part of Cambodia revived customs that we think of as being primarily Indian in origin. The art of the area was focused on stone sculpture, primarily portraits of Vishnu and Shiva. The first statues of Buddha appeared a bit later. Temples to honor the deities took a few different forms, but most of the temples of the Angkor region have a pyramidal top … that’s the view you see most often in postcards and on teeshirts.

Inside Angkor Wat
The most famous monument is Angkor Wat, built from 1113 to 1150. It is dedicated to Vishnu, and Angkor Wats builder, King Suryavarman II, identified himself with Vishu. It is the biggest temple complex in Angkor, and in the 13th Century it became a Buddhist monastery.

The most impressive part of Angkor Wat, I thought, was the third gallery, 600+ feet long and the location of an incredible series of carved stone reliefs that tell a continuous story/stories from the mythology of Vishnu. The most compelling one is the story of the Churning of the Ocean of Milk. I am giving you an excerpt from a guidebook, next, in order to get it right. It is complex,
The south Gallery,
Churning of the Ocean of Milk
part of the Mahabharata epic.

 

Before the world began, the gods were continuously menaced by the demons and they asked Vishnu to help them. Vishnu advised them to gather some amrita, ambrosia that guaranteed immortality. This nectar lay in the depths of the ocean of milk, and in order to extract it, the gods needed the air of the demons, to whom they promised a share of the ambrosia. After the agreement had been made, the Mandara, the cosmic mountain, was placed in the ocean with the Vasuki serpent tied around it so as to make a means to churn the ocean. The two groups began to pull the snake, the gods on one side of the mountain holding onto its tail-section and the demons on the other side holding onto its head-section. This caused the mountain to spin like an egg beater, but the mountain began to sink. So Vishnu assumed the form of a turtle, and descended into the ocean to become the foundation of the mountain. During the churning, marvelous beings and objects of creation emerged from the ocean, as well as a poisonous mist, which Shiva immediately swallowed in order to save the universe. At last the physician of the gods appeared, holding the vial of ambrosia. The demons shouted for their share of the nectar, but at that moment, Vishnu appeared in the form of a beautiful girl and distracted the demons. Vishnu was thus about to distribute the ambrosia among the gods only, who then had the strength to defeat their adversaries and become lords of the universe.

 

Angkor Thom, the capital of the Angkor region, at one time held a population of one million. It housed the court, the priests, the high officials and its walls were significantly massive and fortified. It was bordered by a moat that was 300 feet wide. Of course there were many ceremonies here too, and statues and carvings of Hindu deities adorn it.

Ta Som temple
I mean, these
are BIG trees!
We have seen so many temples that it becomes difficult to distinguish one from the other in memory. Ta Som is memorable because of the destruction caused by the huge trees that have grown for centuries and are tearing the buildings apart.  There is a huge international effort under way to save this temple.

I have got a ton of photos, but promise not to bore you. A few close-ups of the marvelous statues and carvings will give you a good idea.

Temple details near
Siem Reap.  Let me
bore you with my
iPad slideshow
sometime...

 

So today, Saturday, our group takes its 11th flight, this one back to Bangkok. From there we disperse…some to Nashville, one to Charlottesville, a bunch to southern California, our professor back to Illinois. And so it goes.

It has been a challenging trip with the heat and humidity and compromised air quality caused by open burning of garbage everywhere, undrinkable water except in plastic bottles, congested streets, etc etc, but I am glad I went.