Cambodia 1999



I remember the first time I saw photographs in National Geographic of the temples of Angkor Wat. I was 11 years old at the time and even then it fascinated me. Once I learned this archaeological wonder was in a country called Cambodia I dreamed of someday visiting. But this country had been a dangerous place to visit since the 1960’s due to numerous coup d’etats; years of the notorious rule under Pol Pot --when nearly one quarter of the population was starved and/or murdered. Many people now know of the country from the movie ‘The Killing Fields’.

It had been almost a year since the last major outbreak of violence. There is growing sense of stability in the country under the rule of Hun Sen. Hun Sen is considered by some to be democratically elected and by others as another strong man-dictator who has been able to manipulate the polls so as to have the appearance of being freely elected. Despite the warnings of numerous gun-point muggings in the nighttime streets of Phnom Phen, I still felt this was a good time to make the trip.

With my impending departure from SE Asia approaching, I asked one of my co-workers, Brian Poon, if he would be interested in joining me for four-days. We decided that it would be best to fly ;Bangkok -- Phnom Phen -- SieM Riep -- Bangkok. This would allow us to split the trip into one-third visiting Phnom Phen and two-thirds Siem Riep where the Angkor temple complex is located. We decided against a packaged tour. We would make hotel and local transportation arrangements upon our arrival as needed.

I did not want to travel alone, and I did not consider it wise to take Nancy and our 6 week old son. I have known Brian since my arrival in Bangkok and although I had not previously traveled with him, I was certain he would be an agreeable traveling companion. Brian was born in Hong Kong, he and his family immigrated to the US when he was 13. He is now a naturalized American citizen.

July 16, 1999
Brian and I met at Bangkok’s Don Muang Airport at 7:15 for our 8:30am flight to Phnom Phen, Cambodia. We chose Bangkok Airways flight PG930, which provided a small 2-engine jet-prop plane with room for 60 passengers. Our Thai secretary arranged the flights. The ticket price was just under 11,000 Thai Baht or just under $300. I still consider this to be a bit too high as the flying time is only slightly more than an hour. However, upon boarding we noticed that the plane was less than half full with only about 20 passengers, which may help explain the high price. We enjoyed a relatively smooth flight considering the small size of the plane.

On our descent into Phnom Phen I was surprised to see no paved roads. I could only see the dust rising as a few cars rambled down reddish brown dirt trails. Finally when we were within a few hundred feet of the ground I spotted pavement….I thought ‘aha, this must be the road from the airport to the center of Phnom Phen.’ As the plane landed there was only one other plane in sight and it was even smaller than ours!

As we made our way to the terminal, we grew concerned that we had both neglected to take passport photos with which were required for visas. An Official came to Brian first and began to question him and then process his visa. I waited for some time, as no one seemed interested in me. Finally I approached a woman officer at the counter and asked for her help. She took my passport and application form and instructed me to wait. At this point Brian mentioned to me that the officer helping him requested $35 for his visa including a penalty of $15 for not having a photo. As the officer help me approached I was prepared to get out a similar amount. Instead she directed me to the end of the counter at the cashier’s desk. The sign above the desk stated that a tourist visa was $20 and a business visa was $25. I gave her $20 dollars that was accepted and my validated passport was returned. As we collected our baggage we discovered that, of the other passengers several different amounts had been requested and paid. This gave us all a good bit of insight into what was to be expected in the coming 4 days.

We decided to share a taxi with two other backpackers in order to split the $7 dollar fee into the city. While we had only a vague idea of where we wanted to spend the night, the others had more concrete plans to stay by the river at a guest house for only $3 to $4 a night. As we drove towards the city the taxi-driver suggested a hotel where he was determined to drop us off -- as opposed to taking us where we had requested. Upon cross checking the address of his hotel with the map, I thought it would suit Brian and myself just fine and was worth checking out. When we arrived at the hotel, we inspected the rooms and at $20 per night were satisfied. The Puncuk Hotel was centrally located, recently renovated and apparently Moslem owned and operated. The rooms include a brand new color television and brand new air conditioning. The low price of the room included breakfast - much to our happy surprise.

After settling in we met in the lobby to determine where to go. We encountered our two acquaintances from the taxi who were still trying to sort out where they were and where they would go. We felt good that we had quickly settled in and could then begin to explore the city.

Even though we were in the city center, the road in front of our hotel was in a sorry state. It was primarily a conglomeration of dusty potholes. With a rough idea of where we wanted to go, we boldly hit the streets. Our first destination was the Central Market of Phnom Phen.

Brian and I set out on foot despite the large number of inexpensive moto-taxis. This provided more of a chance to get to know the city and our way back to the hotel better. We located the market quickly and set out to explore it’s surroundings and then the inside. On the streets around the market we came across a number of money changers in small kiosks. While not looking official these still did not have the appearance of being blatantly illegal. We decided to change a minimal 1000 Thai Baht ($26) for which we received around 102000 Riels. As we discovered later this was not necessary. Nearly all financial transactions in Cambodia are based on US Dollars, and the Riel is used primarily instead of cents. This means that whenever we would pay for something in USD, any change less than a whole dollar would be returned in Riels.

The Phnom Phen Central Market is centered around a large domed structured which appear to have been built in the 1930's. The structure was now a faded and streaked yellow -- none the less it was attractive. The outside market outside was primarily food vender and some fabrics stalls. Some of the foods were familiar to what I have experienced in Thailand, although there were also several items which we had not previously encountered. Discretion and health concerns prevented us from sampling any of the more interesting looking items. Inside four halls extended from the central dome. Each of the halls contained much of the same type of articles mostly textiles. Under the dome its self were 'upscale' shops dealing in jewelry, cut gems, gold, watches and souvenirs.

After completing our exploration of the market we headed towards Monivong Street. Monivong was one of the two primary avenues of Phnom Phen. To be honest, after we walked both sides of most of the length of the street we were left rather unimpressed. By now it was afternoon and it was time to select a place to eat lunch. We chose a rather safe looking hotel restaurant named the Mirawa.

The Mirawa offered a selection of both Chinese and Kmer dishes. We ordered a sample of both types for a meal consisting of rice and noodles accompanied by beef and green peppers in oyster sauce and mixed vegetables. During the meal Brian struck up a conversation with one of the senior waiters. He spoke English quite well and proved to be a great source of information. Upon inquiry he was able to make some arrangements for us for transportation during the remainder of our stay in Phnom Phen. And so for the grand sum of $30/day we had the exclusive use of a hired car and driver until around 11pm in the evening. This provided us with a safe means of travel the city especially during the dark hours. This was important as we had read many reports stating that nighttime Phnom Phem was quite dangerous. With weaponry readily available to an impoverished populous, muggings or thefts at gunpoint in the poorly lit streets of were quite common.

Once finished with our meal we met our driver Hengto, and headed out into the city. Hengto took us around where we made several ad hoc stops. Our first stop was the hilltop temple of Wat Pronom. The grounds of the temple and the temple itself were pleasant. We certainly noticed the difference between this Wat and those of central Thailand. This was also our first encounter with numerous begging children as well as some disabled Cambodians.

It was around 2 o'clock when Brian suggested that we sample a local Cambodian massage. I left the arrangements to Brian as he had more experience with the massage etiquette in Bangkok than I. Of course Hengto knew of a good place. We turned down a dusty and bumpy side street and the car stopped. We were directed by locals through a small doorway and up a narrow staircase.

Once on the second floor we found a medium sized parlor with a bar and several couches. Across from the couches was a glassed in area with what looked like a five or six tiered red wedding cake. We asked a woman at the bar what the price would be and told it was $5 for an hour or $7.50 for the special massage of 90 minutes. We both agreed that an hour should be sufficient. As we sat down the area behind the glass began to rapidly fill in with many attractive young Asian women. The ladies wore either a red or light blue cheongsam. We discovered that the ladies in red were Cambodian and those in blue were Vietnamese. There was a ratio of 2 or 3 ladies dressed in red for each wearing blue. Each of these women wore a round numbered tag at their waist for identification.

While Brian was purveying the possibilities, I made a speedy decision and chose #183, an attractive petite girl wearing red. I planned to wait and observe Brian's selection however I was whisked out the room quickly by #183. She led me through a maze of small hallways and up a few more flights of stairs. After picking up a key from a clerk we entered a small well lit room. The room was simple and had a bed, side table and shower room. Using hand signals and other gestures I learned that #183 was named Leakhen (or at least a close approximation). Leakhen then instructed me to disrobe and take a shower. Although somewhat nervous I did as told and shyly proceeded to the closed shower room. I showered quickly, realizing that I had left all of my valuables on the other side of the door with someone I did not know in a city with a poor reputation.

Upon exiting the shower I was provided with a towel to wrap around my waist. Lying face up on the bed Leakhen began by massaging my toes. It was then that I noticed the mirror on the ceiling above the bed. This provided some interesting views although I must admit that my eyes were closed much of the time. After my toes, my feet, ankles, calves and thighs were slowly massaged. Although small in size she was quite adept at her job. And despite our inability to verbally communicate she proved to be pleasant company. This just proves that a few smiles and simple gestures followed by cute giggles are enough to convey friendliness.

July 18, 1999
We awoke as planned and met for breakfast around 8 o’clock. Unlike our hotel in Phnom Phen breakfast was not included in the price of the room even though the room was $10 more a night. I ordered a simple omelet with baguette and orange juice. The baguette is one of the better things that French colonization left behind. In Thailand and other parts of SE Asia bread is not good, however in Cambodia the baguettes where as tasty as those in Paris. The simple food was fine and the price was similar to that in the US.

As we left the Hotel our car was waiting on us. We decided to start at the next temple beyond Angkor itself. This was the temple of Bayon, which is part of the very large complex or city of Angkor Thom. The first site is that of the South entrance gate to Angkor Thom. The bridge over the moat is guarded by nagas followed by Buddhas on one side and mythical fierce creatures on the other side. The gate is massive and topped by the often-photographed image of Cambodian faces looking in the four cardinal directions. We drove another kilometer before arriving at the temple. Bayon is in a moderate state of decay although this detracts in no way from it’s impressiveness. Here again we encountered the Cambodian faces atop numerous domes that are spread symmetrically throughout the temple complex.

This is one of the images I had imagined as I reflected back to the first time I had seen these temples in National Geographic. The only difference being that the heads and faces were no longer covered in the thick tree roots. No matter which archway you peered at there would be always be an image peering back. It continued to amaze me how at every turn there would be another single site that would have justified our entire trip.

The sun was hot and the air was humid. Yet despite being saturated in perspiration from climbing the steep temple steps I was not uncomfortable. Even with the temperature in the nineties there was a cool breeze which swept through all the corners of the temple. I expected to be uncomfortable and perhaps it was due to conditioning having lived in the Far East for more that one and one half years now. In many ways Bangkok is much more uncomfortable due to the addition of heavy pollution on top of the sweltering heat and lack of wind. In Angkor the air was clear and clean this was especially true when atop one of the temples. You merely had to step into the shade of one of the stone doorways to cool down, as the inner stone remained cool to the touch.

We walked the grounds of Bayon extensively. We continued to the nearby temple of Bauphin that is undergoing a massive restoration. It is reassuring to see several nations (France, Germany, & Japan) participating in various restorations throughout the Angkor temple complex. Noticeably absent was any American contribution to the restorations. The project at Bauphon, undertaken by the French was the most ambitious I had seen. Due to a weak foundation, the superstructure had been removed with each of its stones identified by a number written in white paint. There were several thousand stones spread out over the vast area surrounding the temple base. The base had been previously reconstructed and reinforced. But this had been several years ago during a rare pause in the political turmoil that has engulfed this smallish country since the mid 1960’s. What remained was a puzzle of immense proportions.

From Bauphon we walked through the palace grounds once describe by the Chinese as being covered in gold. It is very difficult to believe that this very poor country was ever once a powerful and wealthy ruler of all of SE Asia which included Vietnam, Laos, Thailand and part of Myanamar (Burma). We exited the complex near the elaborate carvings referred to as the elephant terrace. We decided it was time for a lunch break and we would leave this section of the complex to explore for the next day.

We returned to Siem Riep and on the advice of our chauffeur/guide we went to the Bayon Restaurant for lunch. We dined in a small open vine covered courtyard. The restaurant was listed in some of the tourist guides so we felt comfortable with the choice. Simple tables and plastic chairs were set in a partially covered garden. We wanted to sample some more of the typical Kmer dishes that until now had left us unimpressed. Brian ordered a Kmer chicken curry in coconut and I ordered Cambodian fried rice and chicken with cashew nuts. My order was similar to what I would have ordered in Bangkok, although what arrived was noticeably different. Most noticeable was the lack of expected hot peppers, added were many more tomatoes than you find in Thailand. Brian’s coconut arrived and upon opening there was indeed a green chili chicken curry. However, as my meal, it was not as spicy as we had come to expect. None the less it was quite a flavorful dish. Our lunch tab came to only a total of $6.50.

After lunch we had the idea try a local massage in Siem Riep. Our driver assured us that he knew of a few good locations. Upon arrival at the first location we were a bit curious. The mamasan (owner?) pulled open the corrugated steel gates to reveal a normal looking wooden rural Cambodian home. Several girls appeared from various corners of the compound in various states of dress. Most were wearing some form of pajamas or other night clothes. Upon inquiry, we were informed that the price would be $10. This was surprising as the price we had paid in Phnom Phen was a mere $5. After failing to barter the price down we decided that the primary business of this location was that of a bordello and not of giving a relaxing massage. The second location looked only slightly better and we decided that it would probably be the same and not worth the effort of investigating.

Thus stymied, we decided to head back to the Angkor complex for additional sightseeing. We passed the primary site of Angkor Wat and headed to a vegetation covered hill which we were previously advised was a good place to look down on Angkor at sunset. At 2 in the afternoon the hill was mostly abandoned. We appeared to be the only tourists and there were but few of the pesky Cambodian urchins. At the base of the hill we looked up to see a very steep set of badly decayed steps. We climbed towards the summit struggling with the mid-day heat and humidity. Of course we were closely shadowed by our urchin guides who did not hesitate to offer their assistance and local knowledge of the area. This was of course in the remote hope that a tip would be left.

As we reached the summit I was surprised to see that this hill was simply another temple complex. Although not as elaborate or as well maintained there were still pleasing structures. From a distance this was truly misleading due to the tall radio transmission tower which could be seen. We were informed by our guides that this was for use by the Vietnamese Telephone system. We decided to take a peaceful mid-afternoon pause on the top of the hill. I found shelter from the hot sun in the cool doorway of a minor temple. I unpacked and relaxed awhile to update my travel notes. After a time a woman carrying a round plastic cooler containing various soft drinks approached us. We followed our now well know pattern of negations for a bottle of cool water which this woman had just carried up the hill. Starting with an offer price of $1, we finally agree on 1500 Riel (40 cents). The 1500 Riel price had been negotiated several times previously and was now our basis for all negotiations.

A small herd of local cattle were grazing on the temple summit and approached as they chewed their way across the plateau. It was then that I learned that this was Brian’s first face-to-face encounter with a cow. He looked to be a little uncomfortable as one Bessie began to breathe heavily down his neck. This all made for some good afternoon entertainment for me.

After a few hours we finished our rest and resumed our exploration of this site. As it approached 4 o’clock, it was time to return to Angkor Wat for the sunset. We followed the elephant path down the hill that was an easier although longer route. When we arrived at the base we noticed that there were now several small groups of people preparing to ascend. The only difference being that now there were several real elephants available to make the way to the top less strenuous. We rewarded each of our two guides with a small sum for their constant companionship during the past few hours.

As dusk arrived, Angkor Wat became an even more stunning sight as the colors of the temple changed with the setting sun. Of course this explains why this is also the busiest time of the day at the temple. Now along with a hundred or more tourists were numerous begging urchins, girls selling a wide variety of t-shirts and their hand made items. Buddhist monks and several outstretched hands of Cambodians which have been maimed by war, land mines or other unspoken cause. We walked the gauntlet providing some money to those in most need. We decide during this visit to climb up into the central heart of the temple. Again at every turn and behind each doorway we were greeted with more brilliant stunning sites.

We settle at the top in a cool corner to observe the goings on around us. It is amazing how cool the stones are once they are out of the direct sunlight. The cool breeze, which blows through the ancient corridors and around the worn nagas provided a pleasant respite. We sat and observed the various techniques employed by the numerous small independent vendors that cover the complex. Finally we were approached by one of the better young businesswomen. After some negotiation we agree on a price for some t-shirts and other small items. Again it is not really to pay the reduced price but the art of the bartering with its entertainment value which we are happy to pay for. What we found amazing was the good command of English many of the vendors possessed. We wondered why this was not also these case with some of our evening entertainment. We suggested to one vender that she would do better to teach English to some of her compatriots in the evening bars of Siem Riep.

As the sun began to set we decided to head down the steep temple steps, as we did not want to be atop the temple in the dark. We causally walked through the temple grounds where there are more vendors offering their goods. We constantly looked back at the temple with no diminished amazement for it continued to change hues. As the last light faded we headed back to the hotel for a shower and a brief rest.

After our day excursions it was again time to venture out to test the Siem Reip night life. My hopes were not high as the previous evening’s entertainment proved to be very unfulfilling. We had a bit of a late start as our driver (another change, brother, friend relative etc.) arrived later than we had agreed. Our driver recommended a different restaurant that upon visual inspection we readily accepted. Again we ordered Kmer food consisting of fried rice, vegetables and some meat dishes. The food was as expected and although not memorable certainly filling. As was now usual we paid in US dollars and received dollars in change except for cents, which were paid in Riel.

After dinner we headed to the Martini nightclub. This club appears to be under the same Vietnamese management as the club of the same name in Phnom Phen. However this time we appeared not to have arrived too early. The format of the club was different than those that we had visited earlier. This time the music was provided by a DJ instead of the live music we had experienced up until now. Also to our surprise, we were allowed time to make our own selection as opposed to having it made for us. We ordered a few beers and relaxed as we observed numerous ladies on the dance floor. Again different from the other clubs we visited in Cambodia, the girls here wore numbered pins in order to make identification easier as in Bangkok.

I decided to let Brian make his selection first tonight and I would follow based on a recommendation of his selection. It is almost always more enjoyable when the hostesses are friends and also get along. It should not be underestimated with regard to the internal fighting which sometimes occurs between different ladies or cliques of ladies. Brian chose #24, which proved to be an interesting choice. Following my plan I then allow her to provide a suggestion for me. She suggested #15 on the basis that she spoke some English and they were good friends. Although this was not my first choice, I felt that I should follow my original plan and agreed.

In Cambodia these ladies are referred to as taxi-girls where as in Bangkok the common usage is bargirl. The initial conversion with a taxi-girl (or bargirl) is quite predictable and appears to follow a well-rehearsed or even trained pattern. It goes something like this:

Bar-Girl: Helloooooo. (A long drawn out long‘o’)
Man: Hello.
Bar-Girl: How You? (Again a long drawn out ‘u’)
Man: I’m fine, how are you?
Bar-Girl: Okay.
Bar-Girl: What you name? (Maybe, what you call?)
Man: Bill (Al, Fred, or whatever)
Man: What is your name?
Bar-Girl: Joy (Pawn, Nat, Nee, usually one-syllable sometimes a real name)
Bar-Girl: Where you come from? (Or where you live?)
Man: Bangkok, US, America, Germany
Bar-Girl: Oh, I like US. (America, Germany, whatever)
Man: Where are you from?
Bar-Girl: Laos, (or some village upcountry which you have no idea where it is)
Bar-Girl: How long you stay Cambodia? (Bangkok, Angkor, Pattaya, etc)
Man: two days. (etc)
Bar-Girl: Why you not stay?
Man: (some lie)

The remainder is optional and may follow after a variable amount of time:

Bar-girl: You like? (Me)
Man:Yes.
Bar-girl: I luv you!
Bar-girl: Where you stay?
Man : (some lie)
Bar-girl: you want sleep with me?
You want go with me?
You want go with you, etc.
Me: No!

In some cases there is some real discussion which can be quite interesting. Of course it helps if you can find a more common means of communication. Some times it is easier to converse with limited Thai or other language. The girls joining us this evening were by chance Vietnamese. At Martini it was also the first time where there appeared to be an even split of Cambodian and Vietnamese (no Thai). Also this evening Brian was fortunate as his ‘date’ spoke fluent mandarin Chinese as does Brian. This provided a wealth of information, as she was quite willing to explain some of her past and how she came to be a taxi-girl.

Van (Faan) was 21 years old and until she was nineteen lived a ‘normal’ life in Vietnam. In fact her family was doing quite well and her father had a good job. However, two years ago her father died suddenly and the family suffered. At her mother’s suggestion, Van and her sister (Tak) become prostitutes. Van sold her virginity for
$500 at nineteen and has been following a circuit of clubs since then. One has to keep in mind that $500 is two years salary for the average Vietnamese. While she started in Vietnam, the family moved successively to Macau, Phnom Phen and now Siem Riep. They moved about every 4-6 months with the entire family. In fact her mother was also at the club supervising her daughter’s behavior. Further, she even scolded my ‘date’ for her rambunctious behavior that evening. I even managed to garnish some of the blame from her sister as Tak was just trying to please me.

In any event we shared their company until around midnight. We enjoyed each other’s company, talking, dancing and sharing a few drinks. Departure was awkward, as the ladies were certain we were willing to pay for their company for the remainder of the night. However, after numerous protestations once resigned this was not to be.

July 19, 1999
This was to be our last day in Cambodia. Our return flight to Bangkok had a scheduled departure time of 1610 hours. As we did not want to take a chance of missing the flight we decided to plan on arriving at the airport at 1500. This worked out well as we were able to keep our hotel rooms at the Saphir until that time. This would allow us time to shower before getting on the plane.

We headed back to the Angkor complex at around 0900. We decided to start at the Elephant Terrace and walk from there. Upon entry to the complex I was again awestruck as each view offered so many delights. We walked along the full size elephant reliefs along this several hundred meters long wall. The wall was once one of the outer gates and main entrance to the Palace Complex. The wall remains around 4 meters high although in its original state it must have been considerable higher. The scenes of battling elephants were elegantly carved into the blocks of porous rock. On the far sides of the walls were other images of hundreds of Buddhas, Garudas and other man-myth creatures.

We followed the road back to a number of smaller temple complexes. These were in greater state of decay and further eroded than the other temples. The joy of wandering these sites was that there were no other tourists in the area. It was a great pleasure to wander this ancient civilization in solitude where one can sit and carefully ponder how it may have appeared 700 or even 900 hundred years in the past. It was interesting to see one modern simple temple and large Buddha built upon the base of a much older temple. We passed through a small grouping of thatch homes which were either part of the monk’s temple complex or a simple village. We walked slowly through the village looking inside some of the open huts. There is something to be said for a people that can continue to live happily with such a simple existence.

We worked our way back to the car and our driver. As we neared the parking area we were once again accosted by a contingent of Cambodian youth selling drinks, t-shirts, scarves and other trinkets. We had the idea to travel to Bantea Srei. This was the farthest outlying temple that was covered by the Angkor Complex Pass. This small temple was supposed to be in a lesser state of decomposition and although it was some 30km away it would still be a rewarding visit. The driver indicated that the return trip would take around 3 hours. While close timing we felt is was achievable. As we left the parking area, our driver inquired whether we had been to the complex of a place which I do not remember the name. We said no and agreed to stop for a short visit.

As we arrived at the entrance of the complex there stood before us another large gate topped by the four faces of ancient Kmers. However, once through the gate there was little evidence what lie ahead. We could only see a wide dirt path leading through the jungle. As we followed the path I wondered what treasures remained to be discovered in the extremely dense undergrowth that bordered the path. As we approached the inner gate to the temple we were greeted by another overwhelming site. We moved on through the gate only to reveal the views which we had anticipated when we came to Angkor.

This temple was by far in the greatest state of disrepair we had seen. But this damage was not primarily due to the more recent turmoil in Cambodia. This time it was the jungle that had taken its toll on the structures. But despite the state of collapsed monuments, it was a great site to behold. To see the great roots of giant hardwood trees engulfing the temple remains was beautiful. Here again we saw that what man has built can never be immortal. Given enough time, Mother Nature remains the supreme ruler of the earth.

By now it was no longer possible to visit the complex of Bantei Sray. Our remaining time had grown too short to make the extended journey. We would leave this site under the category of “always leave something to return to for the next time”. This adage has always worked for us in the past and I am sure it will again. I hope to bring my wife and son here someday. We can only hope that Cambodia will remain politically stable and that these ancient sites will be well cared for, and it will not be overly exploited and covered by the great hoards of tourists that now clamber over other greats ancient sites in the world.

We did have time to visit one more site as suggested by our driver. However, while another beautiful site we were starting to reach our saturation point. No matter how wonderful, I find that there is only so much that can be taken in before it starts to lose its impact. I now try to have more focus on a few places to better fully absorb those locations.

During this final visit we were again of course approached by the resident drinks girl. This proved to be more of a challenge as she refuses to drop her price for a bottle of water below around 2000 Riel. I refused to pay claiming that I received a price of 1500 Riel at the other temples. As we crawled over the various parts of the temple the negations continued. She claimed in earnest that at 1500 Riel she would not make a sufficient PROFIT. But as she followed me back towards the car after a full 15 minutes of this she succumbed to the price of 1500. She must have realized that sometimes a low margin sale is better than no sale at all. I think about what had just transpired and realized that it was for a value of only about 12 cents! Before leaving, I reached in my pocket and passed her an addition 100 Riel for her persistent efforts. If these traits of persistence and tenacity can be put to productive use I feel that Cambodia may indeed have a bright future.

We chose to go back to the city for lunch again at the Bayon restaurant. We enjoyed a leisurely lunch that allowed me a chance to consolidate my notes. This was desperately needed as I was falling severely behind, and if I relied only on my memory much detail would be lost. After lunch there was enough time left to return to our hotel for a quick shower. After a short drive to the airport we paid our driver and thanked him for a job well done. Check-in was very basic, as there are few flights to Siem Riep. In fact there were no planes to be seen on the tarmac when we arrived. We paid the $8 airport tax and proceeded to wait for our plane. I was surprised to see so many people waiting as I knew Bangkok Airways had only 2 jet-prop engine planes that each held around 80 passengers. Our plane arrived on time followed shortly by a Royal Cambodian Boeing. We boarded the plane and left on time. It never ceased to amaze me how a 50 minute flight can take you a world away.

Summary
I would recommend the trip to Angkor Wat to anyone with an interest in ancient civilizations. At no time during our stay in Siem Riep and the Angkor Complex did we feel threatened. If possible I would plan to go as soon as possible. I fear that this area will be quickly developed and over exploited within only a few years. Cambodia is a desperately poor country. Given this fact we found the amenities quite acceptable. Food was reasonably priced and neither of us suffered any ill effects during or after the trip. We spent an average of $100 per day but this included a significant percentage for evening entertainment. For the young traveler, it is possible to travel for around $25 per day. In any event I certainly hope that we are able to return in the future. -Allan

Pictures.

Pregnancy Diaries
Preconception - Where do babies come from?

For many years when I did not get pregnant I just assumed fate thought we were simply not worthy or deserving to be parents. Or that there was a list in heaven of who gets babies. By some error our names were skipped over and no one checked back to make sure that the right person from the list got a baby. God would read a name off the list, then throw a lightening bolt down to earth towards this person and they would get a baby. Only the list was rather non-specific and God's aim was bad. So if the list said 'that American woman living on the Bolwerk(our street in Holland)' then the American woman down the street got pregnant. This happened a lot. One of my friends conceived while we were on vacation together. Their room was directly below ours so the lightening bolt intended for us must have missed me by one floor. The five previous treasurer's before me for the American Women's Club in Amsterdam got pregnant. I took on the job and didn't.

My GP referred me to an infertility specialist just starting his practice with no waiting list. The GP said that that waiting list at other places was 2 years. After all the humiliating and degrading tests he couldn't find anything wrong with me or my husband. I didn't know it then but when they don't know what else to do and you're getting up there in years they put you on a drug called Clomid. I asked if there was a risk of multiple births. He said yes, twins. I did the math, my paternal grandmother is a twin and my mother has sisters who are twins. I didn't want to have a litter and so I refused. He'd never done a hormonal investigation on me because there were no indications of problems but I didn't want to start 'extraordinary measures' until we'd exhausted all the other possibilities. So I blackmailed the infertility specialist. I said if he would do a hormonal study I would consider taking the Clomid. Remember this guy has statistics to support. If he fails with me, it will go on his records. Well he muttered as he wrote out the referral letter to the endocrinologist that this was a waste of time and money and then gave me the letter.

The study took several months. And they did find something minor wrong with my thyroid. This was corrected with medication. After a few months of monitoring it was determined that I was taking the correct dose of medication. By then the infertility specialist had kicked me out of the program because I still wouldn't agree to the Clomid. Seems he'd accumulated a waiting list himself and wanted to replace me with someone else who he had better odds with.

My husband supported me in all this. He didn't much like me being cut up, poked and prodded. And he agreed with me wholeheartedly about not taking the fertility drugs. I am not a very nice person to begin with and when I am on hormones I become downright unpleasant. No wonder he didn't want to put up with that. He said, 'a baby would be wonderful. But we have a very nice life without children already. So let's just enjoy ourselves and our freedom.' So we did. Sure I wanted a baby. My husband's baby. But I also have always wanted to be tall enough to be a supermodel. It just wasn't going to happen.

Some female problems a few years later made me examine my desire to still have children. I wasn't ready to give up yet. I wanted to keep all my parts just in case a miracle (or lighting bolt) happened. So I went on some hormones for a few months. It was awful. The drugs were supposed to fool my body into thinking that it was pregnant. So I gained weight and became truly miserable. My mood could only be described as fit for an abattoir. I went off the drugs and started looking for more lifestyle/herbal ways to deal with my illness.

About three years later, we were living in Thailand by now, what started as a simple UTI ended up with me in the hospital with a mysterious cyst pressing against my spine. It was very scary. Thai Doctors are revered and not used to explaining what they are doing. Language is a problem but it was pretty clear that the lady Doctor surgeon wanted that cyst out! Taking things on trust isn't my style at all. I was dreading surgery - were they just trying to extract money out of me? Was it really necessary to cut? There was really no way to know but I was in pain and the surgeon was anxious to remove the cyst. At this point I didn't know if I would end up with a complete hysterectomy or what. Since my 40th birthday wasn't far away I thought it was time to completely give up on babies. So I thought, 'Okay. Take it all out. It never worked right anyway.''

I went under thinking the Thai word for good health sabai and woke up 45 minutes later repeating sabai sabai. It must have worked because I was allowed to go home then. They'd only had to remove the cyst which also happened to be my left ovary. Enough of my baby making factory was intact to still work. But we really did not hold out much hope. After 11 years of no baby what difference would a little surgery make?

I had a sneaking suspicious that a little surgery could make a world of difference but I didn't dare to hope. I didn't dare tell my husband either. Even though now I think I should have told him that a baby was a possibility. I lived in a kind of elated fear that I would/would not get pregnant. But I had no confidence that I could ever get pregnant. For heaven's sake, I would be 40 shortly.

Well, about this time I had started a little business to amuse myself. I only wanted to work 1 week per month. It was ridiculously easy and I felt so guilty for all the trailing spouses who were unable to find meaningful work. My husband was right we DID have a nice life. He'd travel. I'd travel. We'd meet for a long weekend at a Thai island. Life was good. It was just too easy. Work started to pour in fast and I realized it would be difficult to keep to just part time.

After only my second three day contract I came home and had to sleep for another three days. My period was a little bit late for the first time in years. I put it down to the operation. I honest to god did not put 2 + 2 together at this point. How clueless can you be? I thought, maybe having only one ovary makes you skip every other month? Maybe it was early menopause - I'd be 40 in about 2 months. The Doctor hadn't explained anything. She made me feel like I was challenging her authority by asking any questions. So I certainly wasn't going back to her about this.

It was three weeks before I could get a pregnancy test at another hospital with a different Doctor. Even then I told myself this was just a precaution before I got my immunity booster shots. Well, surprise! The test results were positive. My lightening bolt had finally struck ME! This sure took the sting out of turning 40.

FIRST TRIMESTER - Blissful Stupor
I immediately turned into someone who eats to live instead of lives to eat.

I felt like the first woman in the world to ever get pregnant. Wasn't I clever? Finally doing what a lot of teenagers can do effortlessly, unintentionally? I told myself that I lived in a city of 10 million people and realized, 'Everybody was a baby!' Ten million babies! How can the world contain so much joy?

Back to my 'who gets a baby list fantasy'. I embellished this now. My father died about a year before I got pregnant. So the first thing he must have done is inquire about his baby's baby. Maybe they checked back on the list 11 years ago and found their BIG mistake. After they apologized, things were put to right and I was given the consolation prize of no morning sickness. Or Daddy looked up my baby who had just been waiting around and said, 'What gives? You'd better get down there soon.' Thank you, Daddy, you must have given quite a persuasive argument to finally make baby come.

With all my problems I had no confidence that I could stay pregnant. So I tried to cherish each day. And I read. And read. The books said the 2nd trimester is better, but how could mine be? I was already feeling terrific, but not really pregnant. I let my business crash and burn. Which was an extremely difficult decision. I know how lucky I had been to find anything, much less the wonderful situation I had simply fallen into. But the miscarriage statistics were so scary for the first trimester that I didn't want to risk anything. This lead to a rather nasty incident for me at the airport. While the plane was boarding (I'd managed to land a 3rd contract) I started to hyperventilate and decided not to go. I asked the baby (I kept up a continuous dialog with him in my head) what he wanted to do and got a very clear, 'I want to go home!' Probably wishful thinking but I already knew who was boss.

I’d already fainted once, probably from heat, excitement and low blood-sugar. So my maternity leave began very early. Can I go in the Guiness Book of World records for the earliest maternity leave?

Second Trimester - Good News
I felt the baby move for the first time during an airport layover on our way to home leave. There was a definite 'log roll' in there. I shifted to give him more room and couldn't feel him anymore.

I couldn't wait to go maternity clothes shopping in the states. But after just a few minutes at the mall I began feeling unwell. Oh no! I knew it wasn't the baby just gas but boy! was I in pain. So much so that I finally laid down in front of B Dalton's. The cool tile floor felt so good! A nice lady stopped and asked how I was. Then she started ordering everybody around, 'Call 911! Get me some ice!' She said. Well, turned out she was an ex-EMT with six kids. When mall security heard that I was 3 months pregnant they wouldn't take no for an answer and insisted that I go to the hospital. My husband came out of the bookstore and stopped to see what the commotion was. Poor guy, he must of thought, 'Not again!' He's gotten used to my fainting and takes it in stride. I knew all I really needed was a toilet but they were all one floor up so instead I got to ride in an ambulance with the siren wailing.. Maybe that is fun for a six year old but I felt ridiculous. A wonderful young lady gynecologist listened to the baby's heartbeat, all was fine with him other than his mother embarrassing him. And once the enteritis (an $800 word for indigestion) ran its course I felt good enough to leave.

After that, Christmas in Skokie was lovely as usual. We wasted much time during Christmas eve dinner making the family guess the names we had chosen. By the way, boy children really have a knack at this. We had decided to tell everyone a fake name because we didn't want to know if they had a negative opinion of the real names we had picked out. Our fake name was 'Elvis Napolean'.

Because of my age we'd scheduled an amniocentesis for when I would be in the States. The procedure was nothing. The interview with the genetic counselor, who thought we were SO interesting (not!) was a bit uncomfortable with the full bladder I needed for the ultrasound. She just went on and on. We'd been warned to bring a VCR tape and it had been put in the machine before the technician started but the machine didn't work. So after the needle part the technician performed yet another interminable ultrasound after we'd made sure the VCR was on.

I didn't realize that an amniocentesis was just taking a urine sample from the baby. From that they can extract and culture cells. The baby's chromosomes can then be counted and analyzed from this culture.

Part of the preliminary ultrasound is to measure parts of the baby. When the technician was measuring the femur it became very obvious that we were having a boy. My husband and I were stunned. We didn't care what we got but we really didn't expect this. So our baby would be 'Andreas'.

I felt very vulnerable and protective of the baby the next few days. Secretly, as soon as I could, I got out the still picture that captured his hand and counted the joints in his little finger. I'd read somewhere that Downs babies sometimes only have two joints. My baby had three. What a relief. We still had a two week wait for the official results. It would be a race to get them before I left the states to return to Thailand. On the last possible day I called the clinic. They said they would do their best to get back to me. All day I tried to figure out how I could cope if we got bad news. The only thing I could come up with was if we were the unlucky 1 in 100 that meant that 99 other couples would get good news. The very short call came in the late afternoon. The first thing she said was, 'I've got good news.' I guess she'd done this lots and KNEW how to start the conversation. That is really all I needed to hear. The tests confirmed that we were having a boy.

I hung up and immediately called my husband. He'd returned a week earlier and it was the middle of the night there. I could hardly get the words out through my happy tears. Since he was half asleep he read me all wrong so I kept shouting, 'he's okay!'

I laid on the couch cradling my stomach and tried to figure out the difference between faith and intuition. I'd always sensed that the baby was a boy, but I didn't dare dream it was. We truly had no preference but felt that if the gender was written in a file somewhere why not find out? I'd also always had faith that the baby was okay. But of course did not dare dream/wish that it was so.

When my mother returned I told her 'I've just successfully navigated a statistical obstacle course.'

Now all we had to do was figure out which continent we would have the baby on. I calculated that I spent somewhere around 3 1/2 days in the air over the next few months. My baby wasn't even born yet and so far he had been to: Phuket, Hong Kong, Singapore, Chiang Mai, Tokyo, Chicago, Indianapolis, California and Amsterdam! Literally around the world. We flew to Holland and to San Francisco chasing a job that my husband eventually turned down. I do not advise this. We took a short holiday to Koh Samui where we basically tried to get over out jet-lag and the 'the cough' we had caught on our world tour.

Back home in Bangkok I now started on my quest to find the perfect Doctor and hospital to deliver our precious baby. The appointments with the OB/GYN I had been seeing were becoming more and more strained. And I just could not imagine him delivering my baby. Plus he kept mentioning that a caesarian was a real possibility because my baby was so 'precious'. Am I stupid? Or aren't ALL babies precious? So once I realized that I REALLY WAS having a baby I decided to try and find someone else. I made a short list of four possibilities.

First, I went back to Mongkutwattana where I had been admitted twice previously. They have a communal labor room with four beds. Once you are ready to deliver you are transferred to a small soundproof room where there have a state of the art delivery bed. I spoke to a different Doctor than had done my surgery. Dr. Anon speaks very good English & has a certificate in reproductive endocrinology from an American University, so he was able to answer questions everyone else had shrugged off. He has experience in alternative birth positions, but is very persuasive in defending the traditional 'lithotomy' position. He understood my desire to wait to cut the baby's cord until the pulse stopped spontaneously. I felt comfortable enough with him to ask if Thai's routinely circumcise their little boys. He crossed his legs and screwed up his face and said, 'no'. This was certainly the warmest and fuzziest hospital of the four I visited. But I did not like that the baby would be taken from me to be put in a 'cooling down' incubator for a few hours.

The second hospital was Bangkok Nursing Home. It's a smallish, clean & new facility. They also had separate labor & delivery rooms. The lady Doctor and I did not get along at all. I guess two headstrong women in the delivery room is one too many. We were both older women who were used to being in charge so the search continued. Again there was no choice in giving the baby up to a cooling incubator.

Sametivej hospital, which I saw next, has a good reputation in Bangkok for natural childbirth. Brochures from the World Health Organization are found in the waiting room. FYI point #13 states:

The healthy newborn must remain with the mother, whenever both their conditions permit it. No process of observation of the healthy newborn justifies a separation from the mother.

First I toured their labor and delivery facility. They have one beautiful room where I could imagine myself giving birth. The room had a mattress on the floor, dim lights and a Jacuzzi. I took an immediate liking to the midwife who showed me around. She was one of the first people who I felt I would like to have calling the shots at the birth of my baby. They have a three day delivery package, epidural not included. It took me forever to get home. If there was an acceptable hospital closer to home, that still would be preferable.

The last Doctor I met was at the same hospital I was already going to. Each OB/GYN at Bumrungrad has pretty much complete leeway in how they conduct labor & delivery. There is a new labor/delivery wing with six L-D-R (Labor-Delivery-Recovery) rooms, with four operating theaters across the hall. This connects to the NICU. They boast one of only two neo-natologists in all of Bangkok. The L-D-R rooms have a TV, recliner, and a private shower. Once the baby is born I would have a choice of a suite, deluxe or single room - all private. There is a royal suite as well but chances are it is ALWAYS already occupied. And I would never be able to talk my husband into the expense, even if I wanted to. They also have a three day delivery package which is about US$100 cheaper than Sametivej, epidural included.

Well, after a short discussion I decided Dr. Nopadol was my man. He had all the right answers. I think I would feel confident enough to let him use his judgment. Dr. Nopadol has a very low personal caesarian rate and trusts nature enough to let it run its course (until there is a problem and then he is confident enough to step in and use his medical knowledge) and was educated in Europe (UK-so the best English I've encountered yet). He thinks a woman should give birth in the position that feels right at the time. I was very relieved not to have to face the long drive back and forth to Sametivej. Bumrungrad is right off the highway and now that the new stretch is open it only takes about 35 minutes to reach.

I was dismayed to find the labor & delivery world divided into two mutually exclusive groups; 1) the natural childbirth advocates and 2) the 'childbirth doesn't have to be painful anymore' school. These two groups often hold diametrically opposing opinions about the same issue. I abhor extremes and was hoping to find a middle ground Doctor and hospital. Sametivej has declared itself to be on the side of natural childbirth while Bumrungrad, by not taking sides is assumed to be of the other school. Both hospital run prenatal classes. Bumrungrad offers a series of five classes in English currently held on Thursday night. Sametivej runs a series on Sundays and also has a class on Friday once a month for each trimester.

It was frustrating that I couldn't call a hospital and just ask to talk to the head of Obstetrics. If I could've done that then I would've discussed the various styles of the Doctors on staff to see which one best matched my preferences. All the hospitals wanted a name of an OB/GYN before they'd commit to an appointment. So where I didn't have a name I just asked for their youngest lady OB Doctor who had experience in natural childbirth.

Third Trimester - Under Construction
My due date is June 10th so I am still in the 3rd trimester. Remember all a due date IS JUST AN ESTIMATE, it could be two weeks either way. So please no one call me until June 25th to say, 'Where is our baby'?

I sent the following to a male friend who asked me what it's like to be pregnant.

What it is like to be 7 months pregnant. To get an idea this is what you should do. First, turn the heat up in your apartment about 5 degrees F higher than where you are comfortable. Then fill a balloon with 16 pounds of water, get a 4 pound baby sea-otter. Give the baby sea-otter about 10 cups of coffee & then put it in the water balloon. Strap the water balloon securely to your stomach. Now you can't take the water balloon off for anything. You have to sleep, eat work & exercise wearing this extra 20 pounds. No sleeping on your stomach or back. Side sleeping only. Now go to a costume store and get the most hideous clown costume you can find. Wear it all the time. And you have to go on a very healthy diet, no white sugar, flour, caffeine or alcohol. And you have to avoid raw eggs, meat & fish (no sushi!) & unpasturized cheese. Enjoy. Oh over the next 4 weeks replace the baby sea-otter with one that is 1 pound heavier. Don't forget to give it the 10 cups of coffee first. You need that for the movement effect. Everyone who sees that you have a sea-otter filled water balloon will have some unwelcome comment for you. Like, 'gosh my sea-otter filled balloon was that size right before I delivered!' Or 'do you need a special zoning permit for that thing?' or my favorite (not!) 'Are you sure there aren't two sea otters in there?' Yeah. Right. This is 1999 and you're 7 months along. I think you would know if there were 2 sea-otters already. I don't really know how the sea-otter comes out in month nine. There seems to be some kind of gag order for everyone else who gets their sea-otter to come out, so I will just have to wait until I have to do it myself to find out what it's like.

My third trimester (what an arbitrary demarcation!) was fairly short. First of all because I didn't notice that I was in it until a whole month had passed. I attribute this to taking care of myself. Walking on the treadmill at the gym, floating in the pool, eating right and napping as much as possible.

So my DR says I'll go into labor within the next 4 weeks. I probably won't recognize it. I'll be in and indefinite amount of pain for an uncertain amount of time and my huge belly will eventually become a baby. Sounds pretty unbelievable to me.

I feel like a damsel in distress tied to the railroad tracks with the labor and delivery train whistling in the not to far distance. Even with the huge belly the feel-good pregnancy hormones have allowed me to feel beautiful until about the 32nd week. At that point I started to feel enormous. Secretly I was hoping that my father's deal included a painless delivery- but how was fate going to pull that off?

There's a theory that pregnancy hormones make you feel good so that you won't panic and become hysterical about all the hard work that is ahead of you once the baby is born. Another part of this theory is that the baby won't be born until you become uncomfortable enough to prefer labor to carrying the baby anymore. This didn't happen to me until the last ten days or so.

Have been in the foulest mood lately. Maybe that's because I've gained 28 pounds, all in my belly which is sticking out like a horizontal watermelon from my navel which gives me the profile of Alfred Hitchcock. Ick. And I can feel that not so little head trying to squeeze through my pelvis. Ouch. If it weren't a natural occurrence...I would call it torture.

What they don't tell you about 'dropping' - 1) your clothes will fit funny. The ones you can still fit into. 2) Your torso skin will fit funny too, you can't rub enough anti-stretch mark cream on it. Are we having fun yet? No.

At my 37 week appointment I felt like someone was trying to jack my hips apart. My Doctor was going away during the upcoming holiday weekend so my next appointment wouldn't be for another ten days. TEN DAYS! He didn't think anything was going to happen for an agonizing additional TEN DAYS! I was distraught. I distracted myself with shopping. One of my friends, a nurse told me to look up when the next full moon would be. Because that is when I would deliver. The Sunday before my 37 week checkup on Monday I was able to time my Braxton Hicks contractions every five minutes so I laid down for a nap. A friend dropped by. I was so glad to see her because she had three kids. She said it was false labor and I would deliver in a week. They were both right.

When I did not go into labor at 38 weeks and one day as I had hoped, I put myself to sleep that night thinking up reasons why it would be good to stay pregnant another 2-3 weeks.

The next morning I thought, this is strange, there was no false labor the whole night long and then my water broke.

Birth Story
My water broke when I was 38 weeks 2 days at 7:30 am on Saturday the 29th of May.

I wanted to eat breakfast before I called the Doctor because he doesn't allow you to eat during labor. Had devil of a time figuring out how to beep him. Was too excited to finish my food. Finally spoke to the Doctor at 8 o'clock He was 3 hours away. I asked if we should bring everything & he said yes. I thought we had plenty of time so was calm, but Allan was testy and we bickered all the way to the hospital.

Unbeknownst to me the Doctor hopped in his car for the drive from the beach. At the hospital they made Allan wait outside while I was put in a kimono like gown and hooked up to the fetal monitor. Baby was fine but there were NO contractions. The nurse examined me and then talked to the Doc on his cell phone. He asked to speak to me and said 'we need to consider the real possibility of a cesarean'. I was floored! I said I'd try to go into labor in the next 45 minutes. I was barely 1 cm and not effaced & Andy's head was not engaged. I kept asking to see my husband- he'd not been allowed in the prep room.

Finally I was moved to a birthing suit and got to be with my husband. I told him what the Doc said. We knew all along that I might need a cesarean but I still was hysterical over the idea. I was hooked to the monitor again. Doctor arrived and confirmed the nurses assessment that I was not in labor and said we could induce but it didn't look good and we'd most likely end up with an abdominal delivery anyway. I asked Doctor if I was his sister what would he recommend?

Doctor left Allan & me alone to decide. A sweet little nurse came in and asked what kind of room I wanted & did I want the package or a la carte? I wanted to kill her. I asked for a VIP suit. I think my husband wanted to argue with me but didn't dare since I was crying inconsolably at the time.

The decision was a no-brainer we weren't about to risk our baby to infection. Nor did I want to start down the induction, epidural, episiotomy, assisted birth path that often begins with an induction. I said I never had my heart set on a natural birth anyway.

They brought in a wheelchair for my short trip across the hall to the operating theater. The anesthetist poked my back expertly once. The epidural began to take effect, but not enough so she put me out for a very short time and just a few minutes later at 12:02 I heard the most beautiful sound in the world, Andy's cry! Uh-leh! Uh-leh! I ached to see him. So as soon as they could the pediatrician let me cuddle the little guy.

They brought the baby to me in recovery. He was awake for a little while and then he slept for the next two days! I went up to my room at 4:00. I was allowed 24 hr rooming in the whole time. All I had to do was ring for someone to give me my baby or change him. 24 hrs after the surgery my IV and catheter were removed and I was allowed to get up and move about. I felt like a million bucks.

Songkran in Chiang Mai on only US$500/day
The Greatest Spectacle in Squirt Gun Fighting



The throwing of water originated as a way to pay respect to people, by gently pouring a small amount of lustral water on other people’s hands or over a shoulder as a sign of respect. Among young people the holiday evolved to include dousing strangers with water to relieve the heat, since April is the hottest month in Thailand (temperatures can rise to over 100°F or 40°C on some days). This has further evolved into water fights and splashing water over people riding in vehicles.
Nowadays, the emphasis is on fun and water-throwing rather than on the festival's spiritual and religious aspects, which sometimes prompts complaints from traditionalists. In recent years there have been calls to moderate the festival to lessen the many alcohol-related road accidents as well as injuries attributed to extreme behavior such as water being thrown in the faces of traveling motorcyclists.
The water is meant as a symbol of washing all of the bad away and is sometimes filled with fragrant herbs.- Wikipedia

Saturday 10 April, 6:30 a.m. No driver. This trip had been planned for weeks and our driver was one-half hour late. Which is unheard of. It made us feel helpless until I realized we've done without a driver most of our lives so when Al said, "Let's just go." I said, "Ok." As we were pulling out of the driveway the maid said, "telephone". In Thai. So we fired up the mobile and dialed Su, our truant driver. Al didn't quite understand him but after a very looong story it seemed he'd panicked after having motorcycle trouble.
So we headed off in the direction of where we THINK he lives. Notes: neither of us have ever actually been to Su's house. We passed lots and lots of monks out on their alms rounds. This we've never seen before so close to our home. Either we are never up this early or take a different route. We pass Su going the other way on the back of a motorcycle taxi. Su sullenly crawls into the back seat…because Al refuses to return to our house for Su's sitting cushion and squirt gun.
We stop twice at truck stops to refuel the car and eat during our leisurely +/-9 hour drive. Let me tell you squat toilets when you are 7 months pregnant are quite an adventure! Al drove the whole way. Su slept. We drove through a small city on the way and began to get into the dousing spirit. Buckets of water are thrown at our car. Then it rain. Maybe there is something to this sympathetic magic?
The hotel where I have told Al to make the reservations is not the one I thought it was. Mai Pen Rai (never mind). It is nice anyway. We find all the requirements; bungalows, gardens, running water-in and outside. PLUS a pool! Mai Sa valley is only 1 kilometer down the road from the place where I meant for us to stay (Pong Yang resort, but they don't advertise in the tourist guide so I couldn't find their phone number). Mai Sai valley resort is set among 18 acres of gardens on the side of a hill. The hot water to our thatched roof cabin is warmed by a medium sized propane tank attached to the outside of one wall. We locate the fire extinguisher. Walking up and down the paths of our resort reminds me of when we stayed in Zermatt. The resort even has a rope and pulley system to bring in supplies-just like the milk transport ones you see in the Swiss mountains.
I chose a 'splurge' restaurant. 'The Gallery' out of the Lonely Planet Guide and we set off. Su got to drive.
Please note, Allan's pillow has been safely carried to our room while mine is still in the car sitting on the front seat. Al gets his super-duper squirt gun out and points the tip out of the window. I guess this gives new meaning to the term 'riding shotgun'. I guess you could say he was riding 'squirt gun'. He co-ordinates a routine where Su quickly opens the electric passenger window for him so Al can concentrate on aiming. All I can think about is the bad karma that Al must be accumulating by stalking unwary pedestrians to spray from the comfy protection of our car. It didn't seem like a fair fight to me.
The restaurant is extremely nice. The road front is an antique shop and the back is an open air riverfront dining area. We ordered too much food -- which is basically the story of our lives in Thailand.
Last we went shopping in the night market. Everything is easier this time since we don't have to get our bearings. Allan reminds me over and over not to hold back on my purchases since this is probably our last trip to Chiang Mai. So I pick up an XL t-shirt decorated with Japanese brush stroke bamboo leaves and birds to sleep in. For the first time I see a triangle pillow in NICE colors, so we get it. We buy 2 sets of wind chimes and Al gets a golf watch.
Back in our room we got acquainted with the resident tching-tchok (gecko) and find out that the water heater does not work. There is no fan or airco in the room and it is very warm so washing in cold water before retiring helps to cool us down. We fell asleep to the sound of the babbling brook outside our window. The jungle night noises wake us now and again -- probably just tamarind pods falling on our roof, right?
We woke to a glorious cool morning. Al went early to play golf. I went to breakfast late. I tried to inspect the water heater but there were signs everywhere that said not to adjust it. 2 or 3 people ask me if I had hot water, so I guess they saw me. Spies! I hand my room key over to a man who goes to check out the problem.
On the walk up to breakfast I saw an overgrown pergola that I had not noticed the day before -- which is not surprising considering the spectacular flowerbeds EVERYWHERE. The resort is snuggled among mountains in every direction. Someone is obviously a passionate gardener. The resort achieved a harmonic mixture of English cottage garden and Thai. The result is…Biarritz. Who says you can't mix orange and pink? If you are Thai you can with complete confidence.
My morning swim was bracing. The only other person at the pool was a very nice French lady. She was a friend of the owner's wife. The wife was the gardener and she spends a lot of time in England and France. So that explained it. Al appeared at the pool around lunch time. After a dip we decide to grab a quick bite at the shack across the road from the resort. This will leave us more time to shop Sankampaeng Road which we have affectionately dubbed 'factory row'.
It's uncomfortably warm but we still managed to do some damage at a pottery shop (two vases and a cream colored porcelain elephant). The girls took for ever to pack everything in acres of bubble wrap, shredded newspaper, and fragile stickers. Reminded me of how Amy (my sister who works at UPS) packs. I also bought some Thai silk from an old lady street vendor. My technique was to pick something out and then have Al bargain and pay for it. But after looking at the lady's face he didn't have the heart to dicker her down. We're talking an asking price of US$2.50 per yard anyway. Al ordered a hope chest from a teak shop. It would have to be delivered later as the factory was closed for the holiday.
Our last stop was an absolutely HUGE jewelry store. At the entrance they ask us what languages we speak in order that a personal shopper could be assigned to us. Inside were enormous fish tanks-I guess to calm husbands down. I make a bee-line for the ruby rings, which is my sole objective. I am surprised by how small the stones are. We looked at ones set in 18 karat gold, ones in 14 karat gold but I just didn’t find ‘it’. We ambled by the loose stone cases and I saw lots and lots of tiny square cut rubies. So we made our way over to the multiple stone ruby ring case and our shopper offered to get more out of the safe. I found a ring that appealed to me, we got it sized then it was put away for my post-partum blues day. At our last prenatal class the midwife said on the third day I should be given some jewelry to cheer me up -- something shiny and expensive to counteract the loss of pregnancy hormones.
I was exhausted by this point. Al was ready to do watery battle from the dry protection of our vehicle. Several buckets of water landed in the car. Of course. Al and Su had a ways to go before perfecting their window down/take aim routine.
That night we dined at the resort we MEANT to stay in. It is quite nice but the gardens were not as extensive as where we WERE staying. We dined with a lit waterfall behind us. Way cool. We ordered 9 dishes and end the meal with freshpineapple and cantaloupe.
A million stars were visible on our walk back to our room. Some kind of creature shouted, "How, How!" outside our window in the early morning.
Again Al rose early to play golf and I slept to my heart's content before waddling my way uphill to breakfast. In the morning I took pictures of the gardens and enjoy some 'Chiang Mai apples' that the driver had given me. I share my extra fruit with the French lady from the pool. After a morning nap and a swim I went to meet Al for lunch at the golf course. The course had the most bee-you-ti-full ladies lounge I had ever seen. Imagine the nicest Nordstroms ladies lounge you have ever been in, add a sauna/steam room and a glassed in area full of couches and you will get the idea. But all I had to do was use the bathroom.
After lunch we went to a wood carving village (Baan Tawai) we visited on our last trip to Chaing Mai. I can't even remember what all Al picked up. But I stayed in the car while he decided what he wanted to show me in various shops. Some of it would be shipped and some of it was immediately arranged in various areas of our house as soon as we got home. Next we revisited a quilt store we'd found before. Unfortunately the restaurant I picked for the night only had good Tex-Mex food. My tacos and nachos were outstanding but Al's pizza was obviously well acquainted with the deep freeze. So definitely visit "The American Restaurant" but order from the Tex-Mex stuff. We earned 39 free minutes of internet time with our meal but were too impatient to use it.
We happened upon a street that was blocked off for what looked like a food fair. So we strolled along trying to figure out what the heck everyone was serving/eating.
We got back very late. Driving around in the dark we could be anywhere. I wondered, 'what I am doing crawling around here, on the underbelly of the world?' On the way to the room we saw a forest fire opposite our resort. I thought of our propane tank and thatch roof. Al checked the fire extinguisher again. At breakfast the next day the owner assured me that the resort had a double fire break. I checked it out. He was right.
Tuesday was the actual start of Songkran so we drove as far as we could down a main street. I was really worried about getting the inside of the car wet. Our trip home would be miserable enough with my big belly but on a wet seat it would be unbearable. So we parked the car, grabbed our squirt guns and ventured forth. We were basically soaked immediately. The people were very sweet and asked first if they could pour a small bowl of water on my neck, shoulder or …BELLY! Yes, Andy received many, many good luck wishes for the new year. The foreigners were more aggressive.
Chaing Mai city is blessed with an outdoor café called JJ's. We were lucky enough to find a table there and try to dry off a little. A procession started in the late afternoon. I managed to find a folding chair where I could enjoy the whole thing sitting down. Buddha statues from the local temples were brought out and paraded around on floats. I guess you could call it sympathetic magic? People would spray a little water on Buddha and then later when the rice is planted Buddha would rain LOTS of water down for the rice to grow.
When the day was over I changed into dry clothes behind the car. Al just managed to get dry shorts on before two girls walked by. We liked the riverside restaurant from the first night so much that we decided to try another, 'The Good View'. It was complete gamble and the best meal we had.
One last stroll though the night market ended out trip. I found some tumbling bronze angles and a green lacquered box. Al finally found a stall to make us a gong stand. And many other items too numerous to list.
I nagged Al all the way home to lay down his squirt gun. He simply was unable to take his finger off of the trigger. I felt surrounded by males. Aggressive males.
• One kicking me in the stomach. Yes, the baby could sense the excitement/agitation and would really make a ruckus as Su and Allan tried to locate targets.
• One by my side with a 'weapon'.
• And one up front driving and abetting my husband.
I told Al that each bucket of water that fell on me through the window would cost him 1 karat in diamonds. Only three buckets of water landed on me on the way home. Once I am rested I will go to a jewelry store in Bangkok. Just kidding. -Nancy

Koh Samui- Paradise Found
Wednesday, February 24, 1999



One hour and ten minutes flight south of Bangkok is Koh Samui. Ho hum. Another island paradise. My only serious preparation for the trip had been to remove my wristwatch. Our hotel transfer met us at the quaint airport and carried the bags to his pick-up truck. I was a little afraid of going into premature labor on the very bumpy road but we arrived safely at 'Montien House'.
We took a walk on the beach to the south after we checked into our hotel. It was already dark but many familiar stars lit our way. We walked back along the road which was lined by batik hawkers and the like.
The next morning we got up late-what a joy to finally be over jet-lag! Breakfast was served at our hotel until 11 - 11:30 so it was no problem. Next we walked north on the beach (Chewang beach). We arrived at the furthest point around noon. A non-pregnant person could probably walk the entire length of the beach in 45 minutes but it would take me about 2 hours to waddle that far in the heat in my condition.
A steady breeze kept things cool. We stopped to view some serviced apartments called 'Muang Kulaypan Hotel'. And stayed and stayed. Sitting in a 'Lanna' style booth at the hotel restaurant (Budsba) between the beach and the pool Al hatched an idea.
Not knowing our future after September, I wasn't too keen on the idea of staying in a serviced apartment on Sukumvit (in Bangkok) for a few months after we left our house. Al said, "Why don't we come here instead?" I loved the Japanese Zen design of the place so I said, "Yes." That was if another job doesn't find him first.
No doubt if you look up the definition of 'laid back' in the dictionary it will say See 'Koh Samui'. I saw another pregnant woman wearing sarong pants tied under her belly. I couldn't help but wonder if she was planning on wearing her navel ring during labor? The unpretentious wasland is a favorite with backpacker hippie types. But we were just old rich people pretending to be hippies for a few days. None of the beachwear vendors that I saw were wearing their wares. We saw lots of dread locks, men with long hair and tattoos. Not to mention body piercing. Just us and five or six thousand Germans.
If you really get bored you could get a 1 hour massage right on the beach for about US$5 an hour. Or if your hair was long enough, you could get your hair braided into cornrows with little colored beads put on ends.
Our second day on a tropical island paradise. Never mind wearing shoes to breakfast. I suppose if I showed up in my nightgown (as I regularly do at home) no one would bat an eye. There was another reason for me not to wear shoes though. I found out why they are called 'sandals'. Wading in the surf the previous day allowed enough sand to stick on the Velcro of my Tevas to rub blisters on my feet.
We experienced a duplicate idyllic morning. Al went sailing on a rented catamaran (Hobie 16) while I sat and read 'Cruising World' magazine and watched him out of the corner of my eye. The people watching along the beach is great. Naked children. Absentminded European women who had forgotten to pack the tops to their two piece swim-suits. Real people with real bodies. I saw very few perfect bodies but lots of very sweet extremely old couples holding hands.
Is 'leisure activity' an oxymoron?
My lunch was so good that day that despite intending to eat only half of it (brown rice with sweet and sour fish) I ate all the rice. I really don't have a lot of space for food these days as the baby is pushing my stomach up against my ribs and I was very uncomfortable. I thought the skin on my abdomen would split so I went into the toilet and smeared suntan lotion all over my gut.
During my walk to dinner I regretted learning any of the Thai language. We overheard many comment on my protruding stomach. Roughly translated the comments were all variations of, "Wow! Look at the size of her huge belly!"
Day three found us in a rented jeep circumnavigating the tiny island. We found the ingredients for a perfect lunch; sea, sandy beach, surf, 85F degrees, 3-4 Bft breeze (enough to keep the bugs away). I guess the waitperson was the cook's husband eager to show off his wife's cooking talents augmented by the best service he could offer as the lone waiter.
The next day's lunch was perfect as well. We went back to Budsba Restaurant and claimed a Lanna style hut. The baby seemed to really be lulled by the woosh-woosh of the waves. A little squall was brewing so the wind and waves picked up. A steady stream of peddlers offering bright batik sarongs, charcoal grilled sate (cooking as they walked) and corn on the cob went by our hut. I bought two very large rectangular scarves.
Koh Samui has a darling airport. Our airline offered all the complimentary bananas you'd like in the open air waiting area. Cute trams ferried passengers from the terminal to the planes. I was asked THREE times how many months pregnant I was before being allowed to board. Or maybe they just thought I was trying to sneak a whole boneless ham onto the flight under my shirt?