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?

Weekend in Petchabun (Pet-cha’-boon)

(Quaker girl dances the Ramwong)
One Saturday morning we found ourselves (My husband, myself and our Thai driver ‘Sue’) driving towards ‘upcountry’ (defined as anywhere outside of Bangkok) to attend the Buddhist priest ordination of our driver’s cousin. We had not really made any coordinated plans, although the three of us had individual ideas of what we would do. The information we had wrested from the driver was sketchy and seemed to change from day to day.
Al was out late the previous evening and had arisen early to get in 18 holes of golf. As such he was tired and after downing some carry out from Burger King fell into a deep sleep. I could not go to sleep in the car as I watched in horror for two hours as our driver played ‘chicken’ with the oncoming traffic on a stretch of road that was under construction and therefor down to only one lane. Luckily, the road shoulder was generous and in not-too-bad condition. We could veer off onto the shoulder when the traffic going the opposite direction ‘won’ the game of chicken. Throughout the ordeal my husband slept peacefully.
Sue had removed the headrests so that we would have a better view from the back seat. I was not grateful for this at first but when the normally flat scenery became mountainous in the distance it did improve the view.
After a several hours, we arrived in a small suburb of ‘Petchabun’ (north and east of Bangkok) which I dubbed ‘Sueville’. The reason for this being that of the 15 houses in the village 11 of them were occupied by Sue’s various relatives. First we were led into his mother’s house. She was a short, heavy-set jolly woman as all mother’s should be. We sat on some unbelievable uncomfortable and beautiful Chinese couches and were given cola’s after turning down water, tea and whiskey. All the fans in the town must have been brought into the house and directed on us to keep us cool. It was hot and I think they were self conscious about not having air conditioning. I walked over to more closely inspect the three treadle sewing machines. Evidently one of Sue’s uncles was a tailor.
We had assumed that we would have time to change into more festive clothes and wash up before the evening celebration. But as it turned out we were to be given the best room in town and had to go to the dinner that night in our shorts and t-shirts like everybody else. The best room in the village turned out to belong to Sue’s aunt whose son was to be ordained as a priest. She was recently remarried to a German man whom she had met in Pattaya. Her first husband, a policeman, had died in the line of duty some years previously. Thus, she was allowed to add a small house onto the back of the Sueville police station. The house had a decided German influence. Allan reluctantly agreed to staying in the new air conditioned room after being told for the umpteenth time that Petchabun proper was too far away over the mountains. The setting of Petchabun was one of a fertile valley bordered by scenic mountains on three sides. As we waited for the festivities to get underway, Sue entertained us with the story of his 2 hour predawn bus trip to school along the road we were travelling.
We were moved outside where numerous tables of eight were set-up for the dinner that night. All the fans from inside were dragged outside and aimed at us again. We watched as someone took some wire cutters to the utility pole in front of us. As best we could figure they were trying to wire up the stereo. Each table had a bottle of pop, two bottles of still water, two of carbonated water and two bottles of Mekong whiskey.
We met Sue’s brother, son and his wife and her two sisters and their mother. And his 90 year old grandfather and the cousin who would be ordained the next day. This cousin was dressed in a robe of white lace and his head was shaved. He came over and spoke to us in English. Blaring music came from the stereo system. We noticed that different blaring music was coming from a separate set of speakers to the east of us. This turned out to be a mobile moving theater unrelated to our party. A whole outdoor theater was unloaded from a semi-trailer (except for the commercial projector) and people came from near and far to sit on their straw mats and watch Thai movies. The noise was deafening.
Since I was pregnant they brought food to us the same time that they fed the children. I felt embarrassed eating before the adults but finally decided it would be better not to embarrass my hosts by refusing their hospitality. I watched as a baby was passed around a table in front of us. I estimate that the baby made about two revolutions in five minutes. High chairs and baby buggies aren’t really popular in Thailand (or Asia I believe) as there is almost always a pair of extended-family arms to receive that baby while the parents want to eat.
Two policemen ambled across the street and sat down and helped themselves to food. We found out later that they were cousins.
After eating we took a walk down to a little bridge for a little relief from the noise. It can get terribly dark in the country. We had forgotten that after living in the suburbs of Bangkok. None of the stars were familiar.
The evening’s ceremony consisted of a few monks chanting in one of the houses. Parts of it were extremely beautiful and reminded us of some Irish mouth music we had once heard.
We turned in and even though our bedroom was in the back of the house it was still quite loud. The air conditioner hum was a welcome layer of white noise over the racket outside. Every time I woke up it seems the movie theater was still roaring away.
The next morning we were treated to a German frustuck (breakfast) complete with worst and bread hot from the bread machine. We donned our party clothes and started off at eight o’clock in the morning with the rest of the procession. The wat (temple) was a few miles away so we went in cars. The cousin priest-to-be rode in the back of a pick-up truck with a large parasol protecting him from the sun. We had to wait as a herd of cows was led from one pasture, across the road to another pasture.
Three monks were to be ordained as priests that day. The one before us appears to be the wealthiest and the one behind our group seemed to be the poorest. We made this deduction from the contrast in attire, musicians and offerings. I admired Sue’s females relative who had dressed up in Thai silks or cottons. Allan admired Sue’s 90 year old grandfather who was resting by the wall to the wat. He was squatted down sitting on his hauches heels to the ground. You try it.
The group began to move clockwise around the outside temple. A cool breeze from the nearby mountains was blowing in the glorious morning air. An offering package was given to me to carry to the temple and I noticed that the women in front of me were holding it high by their heads. I did the same not wanting to break with tradition when I realized that they were just using the gifts as sunshades. Thais admire light skin and therefore shun any attempt at a suntan. The offerings demonstrated that we really don’t need much. Monks own as little as possible, some robes, a bowl to accept food in and maybe a shoulder bag. Inside the gifts-wrapped in saffron saran wrap-was a bucket containing a travel size of laundry detergent, a can of condensed milk, a bar of soap, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. The richer groups presents was very similar but instead of a bucket there was a small cooler.
Our group danced round the temple three times. The traditional Thai dance is called the ‘Ramwong’. This is where you bend your fingers back until they hurt and then curl them around the other way as if you were going to make shadow birds on the wall. I had brought Al’s golf umbrella in case the sun became too much for me but it was appropriated for someone else (elderly and feeble – I assume).
I left my shoes outside before entering the wat. Sue’s wife, who speaks no English, motioned for me not to step on the temple threshold (VERY bad form) and then I sat on the floor inside making sure that my feet did not point at the Buddha statue or at one of the monk/priests performing the ceremony (a sign of disrespect). In Thailand feet are considered the dirtiest part of the body and therefor not something you want to point at a holy person. At the end of the service the three new priests exchanged their white clothes for saffron robes. Sue leaned over and told me that they even have to give up underwear! Simplify, simplify, simplify. I refused some incense sticks thinking the smell would not sit well with my pregnant belly.
During the lengthy ceremony when my legs started to go to sleep we got up and went outside. We wandered over to what must be a meditation pond complete with stocked fish. A little shelter house was built out over the water and the cool exquisite breeze continued into the late morning. We could have stayed forever. We got back to the ceremony just at the tail end of the chanting. The three new monks waited a little bit outside the temple and people put cash donations hidden in incense into their shoulder bags. Since I had refused the incense sticks Al just had to plunk the cash in undisguised. Pictures were being taken of the new monks with various family members. Sue’s new German uncle motioned for his wife to put her arm around her son. I guess he didn’t know that monks are not allowed to make eye contact with women much less touch them.

Marathon Drive to the North of Thailand


17 October Thru 25 October
(Please not the weird food cravings. I was ‘late’ but in denial)
Most people from Bangkok either fly or ride the train to the Northern Thai city of Chiang Mai. They have their chauffeur drive separately because Chiang Mai is a major shopping city for handicrafts, woodcarvings, textiles and baskets. This leaves a car free to be filled with packages. We decided to leave very, very early and sleep in the backseat while our chauffeur drove what we expected to be about an 8 hour trip. The main attraction for me was going north to cool mountain weather. I really haven't wanted to acquire ANYTHING since packing up the house alone earlier this year. Even in a tiny Dutch house, 10 years of accumulation adds up.
It wasn’t the high season hadn't started yet because the monsoon was technically not yet over but this was the only week that Al could squeeze in a vacation.
5 1/2 hours after leaving home we stopped at a temple in Nakorn Nayak. It was a Saturday, so there were lots of visitors to the Wat(a Thai Temple). Some were bowing to the golden Buddha statue holding sticks of smoking incense. The respectful form of greeting in Thailand is the 'wai'. You put your hands up like you are going to blow your nose and bow a little. Other visitors were shaking wooden cans with numbered sticks in them. One of the sticks would pop up and that would be the number of fortune paper they could pick up elsewhere.
Before lunch we stopped at Sukothai, an old historical city. All that remains of the old city are extensive ruins. We clambered around some terra cotta brick temples in a park. Many Buddha's sat in alcoves with just the pointy headdress poking out the top. Other German, Belgian and Portuguese tourists were viewing the park by bus and bicycle. It was not cooler yet. In fact it was still uncomfortably hot. I don't know how the bicycle tourists stood the stifling heat. We partook of some 'fast food' at the park, dried beef, chicken fried rice and ‘practiced’ handicraft shopping around the few stalls by the open air eating area. The typical eating arrangement in Thailand is the 'food court' which is just a bunch stalls selling various kinds of goodies.
Al's secretary had given us a discount coupon for a resort hotel in Chiang Mai. We were not too disappointed when we found out that it was full because it was also under restoration. My map (Nancy Chandler's 12th edition) showed a teak-hut bungalow hotel not too far out of the city so we headed that way. Please note our driver is a CB radio addict (probably from years on the road) and he was querying over the radio for directions. Al and I were looking at the map, where the hotel was OBVIOUSLY to the south of the city and the driver headed east and then north. Al bullied him into the passenger seat and I navigated. It was getting dark and we were tired and impatient.
Chiang Mai Riverside Villa is hands down the most romantic and primitive place where we have EVER stayed. We checked in and sent the driver off to find a guesthouse for himself. Al's company sets a per diem for driver's when they take you on vacation so that they can stay and eat comfortably. After hanging out in the room awhile- Al had brought his computer helicopter simulator to play with on his laptop while I poked Kleenex in the holes in the screens so more bugs couldn't get into our room. This was pretty silly considering the huge gaps in the floorboards- We made our way across extensive dock walkways to the open air restaurant. An unusually marked tortoiseshell cat snuggled up to me and we enjoyed a very high quality dinner starting with a spicy seafood salad, the sour part of the salad was quite complex because of the addition of tamarind. Northern food is supposed to be more sour than Bangkok food. In Bangkok it is reputed that they add palm sugar to EVERYTHING. New age Chinese music was piped through the whole complex adding to the exotic charm.
Our driver could not believe we were staying; a) in such a mosquito infested dump b) so far away from the city. I guess romance is in the eye of the beholder. We tried to talk him into taking a holiday in the city and leaving us to our own devices but he would have none of that. He was here to protect us (from ourselves?) and would feel he'd neglected his duties by not going with us. We would have really like the privacy but what can you do?
After a wonderful night, with the fan running the whole time and a mosquito coil burning most of the night; Note our bed or pallet had a mosquito net we woke refreshed with not one mosquito bite. Breakfast was included with the room. Our host pressed us into ordering yet another of his lemongrass and something else tea concoctions. We munched our toast and fruit looking out into a bright and beautiful day. Al had really hoped the night before that we would enjoy some rain but no luck. There was a tiny bit of lightening at dusk but it petered out pretty quickly.
On Sunday we started shopping. There are many craft villages in the environs of Chiang Mai but we decided to start with a road that could be called 'factory row'. Before lunch we hit a Bronze and Jade place, a huge teak furniture shop, a ceramic factory specializing in Celadon and a cotton textile store. Lunch was at an unremarkable tourist place. The cotton shop had huge 'fixed price' signs so I did not even bother looking.
Tired of shopping we headed off to explore a nearby cave. It sounded good to me because caves are usually cool. We walked up and up a marigold lined stairway with a huge serpent design banister. A man rented us a flashlight and we started down, down many steps to the floor of the cave. Big Buddha statues sat in lit alcoves. The walls were very smooth and the stalactites & mites seemed very old and worn down. Our driver tried his CB radio in the cave but could not get any reception even with his oversized antenna.
One scenic drive to the south of Chiang Mai is said to be cooler because it is more mountainous. We headed that way and towards two bungalow resorts marked on my map. As they both charged admission to their park like grounds we persevered on to another resort we kept seeing signs for. Belle Villa is run by RCI and has an English village feel to it. Stunning mountain views are everywhere you look. We could see a storm rolling in behind the hills but it never really made it to us. At dinner Allan told the waiter (in Thai!) that he really liked very spicy food. I ordered a ceasar salad. We both were happy. The next morning we enjoyed a very English breakfast and then headed off on the scenic (and hopefully cool) drive. Getting to Samerng was more than half the fun and we careened through windy jungle sided roads. We lunched at an absolutely wonderful bungalow resort. They had a tropical mountain garden to one side and real honest to god working waterfall to the other.
I insisted that we stop at a butterfly and orchid farm. Al wasn't really sold on the idea until he saw a tank full of live scorpions. A little old man waved me over and pointed out a very ugly caterpillar. It looked like what as a child I called 'tobacco worms' but without the multicolored knobs. Then the old man picked up three huge moths and set them on my shirt.
The Lonely Planet guidebook went on and on about a restaurant called JJ's so we went there for chocolate cake at tea time. Bakery items are hard to come by in this part of the world and it seems that Chiang Mai has more than it's share of good western food. But maybe because of it's size it is just easier to seek out. After being restored by our tea we made our way towards the market area. On the way we found a 'beanie gecko' store, a hemp clothing shop and much much more. The prices were so incredibly low that it was hard to want to bargain but of course that is part of the fun and we would never want to offend any shopkeepers by breaking with protocol.
Exhausted by shopping and cheered by the site of a sidewalk café we stopped for a drink at dusk. Little girls in ethnic costumes were trying to ply their wares on the street corner. The silver studded headdresses looked incredibly hot to me. I do understand sacrificing comfort for fashion but this was definitely over the top. An Australian couple beside us struck up a conversation. At first I was suspicious of all their questions but it turned out they were psychologists (he for a prison, she for juvenile delinquents) and they were very curious about our expat life style. It never occurred to us that we were interesting for this fact alone. Everyone we know is an expat and so it doesn't seem very remarkable to us. Although we do turn to each other a lot when wonderful things happen (which they do A LOT) and say 'What have we done to deserve all this?' It's like getting something for free, we certainly don't feel like we've earned it.
Remarkably at the restaurant we chose we met our host from the Chiang Mai Riverside Villa. He had fed us so well before that we just went with his recommendation. Evidently he works at the teak hut place only on the weekends and the rest of the week he's at this restaurant.
The next morning we headed towards the 'baskets' of Hang Dong after withdrawing the maximum from our account at an ATM. We were relying solely on our Nancy Chandler map now since experience had told us we could trust it but ended up in 'Ban Tawhi' a wood carving village instead of the basket place. I have never seen my husband in such a buying frenzy before. Soon all of our small Baht bills were gone and I was waiting in the car with the air conditioning on while Al took the driver to buy a little teak spirit house. It would not fit in the car and would have to be shipped. Stuff was so cheap it was very hard not to buy things. This is the kind of thing that you find at Pottery Barn. One shop had wonderful antique Burmese gongs but all the good ones were sold. We have a perfect place on our house for one but it will just have to wait.
I really wanted salty French fries for lunch so we made our way to an Irish place recommended by the Lonely Planet guide. The food was not disappointing. Before setting off on route #118 to Chiang Rai (another city about 3 hours to the north) we bought a king size quilt we had seen earlier and decided we really had to have. Route #118 is the 'short cut' to Chiang Rai as there is a more scenic road as well. I woke up after my post lunch nap in the car to a road lined with basket shops. True to my nature I walked along and fell in love with the most expensive US12.50 (and beautiful!) one in the place. The guy would not bargain, I think probably because I was so obviously rich since I was traveling with my chauffeur. So it is not true that if you speak Thai the price goes down. When we stopped to get gas Al got his usual ice cream bar. It looked really good to me so I asked for one too. He said, ‘maybe you are pregnant. You never eat ice cream.’
After trying a couple of hotels in Chiang Rai we settled on a nondescript place. Chiang Rai is very small and quiet so we walked to a restaurant mentioned in the tourist literature. We got a little lost and met up with some another English speaking tourist who was also lost. She was very young and her head was shaved bald. She was dressed entirely in black. She tried to show us where she thought we were on our map. After turning the map right side up I convinced her as to our location. We finally found 'The Golden Triangle Inn' which turned out also had accommodation. The English language menu had a terrific explanation of a Thai meal. Most of the other tables seemed to be full of small tour groups.
After reading about Hill Tribes in the Insight Guide I did not wish to visit any. I am sure that such a trip would rile my barely concealed outrage at exploitation of indigenous people. But that is what you do in Northern Thailand and Al and the driver wanted to go.
Wednesday morning Al received a fax from his secretary at the hotel that outlined the rules for a car rally we were participating in the following weekend. The rules were in Thai and the driver was given instructions to translate them. As he was feeling a little car sick (Al was driving today and the chauffeur was in the back seat reading) the translation would have to wait. Al wanted to go to a remote mountain village known for it's Chinese inhabitants. Some Chinese fled to this Thai village after the communists took over China. The drive was more scenic mountain ways. The village was a dusty collection of shops selling dried cherries, preserved fruits and teas. As soon as we parked two adorable little boys pressed their noses against my car window and started begging. The prices were even more unbelievable low than before. Prematurely aged women kept dragging me to their stalls or asking me to pay them for having my picture taken with them. I couldn't bring myself to bargain for anything. When I bought some tea I thought the lady said 400 baht so I countered with 300. Luckily the driver was there so he said the price is 40 baht (US 1) so I just paid. It is probably about one kilo of loose tea. We refused samples of the brewed tea for hygiene reason but could not resist the preserved sour fruit samples.
We made it to the most northern city in Thailand for lunch. There was a border crossing to Burma here. We couldn't find anything resembling a restaurant -just the usual assortment of noodle carts and vats of breaded and deep fried insects. Finally we spied a covered place by the river where we sat and watched first a man and then a snake swim across the muddy brown river. Now it was my turn to go into a buying frenzy. The sidewalks are lined with stalls that sell loose 'gems'. I thought I would risk buying a small sapphire for US20 or so. If it turned out to be cut glass I would still have a pretty stone. When the lady started the bidding at US7.25 I decided to buy a pretty green stone as well. Who knows what it really is? I'll have them mounted as soon as I can find a jeweler I can trust. That probably won't be until Christmas in the US.
After leaving Mae Sai and the Burmese border we took a leisurely drive back towards Chang Rai. This route took us to through the Golden Triangle once noted for its opium and heroine production. However, the Thai government has successfully eradicated the production of opium by getting the hill tribes to grow alternative crops which still managed to provide a reasonable income. An impressive part of the drive was a journey along the Mekong River with Laos on the opposing riverbank. Even here far from the sea the river is very broad and quite majestic.
We had seen a resort on the way about 1 hour south of Chiang Rai and decided to get a head start on our way home by staying there that night. Al was at the wheel and the driver was trying again to read the map (not a strong point for Thais) but finally we arrived at the resort. It was very nice but all we really needed was a clean and comfortable bed. We took a dip in the pool despite the chilly air before heading to the resort's one restaurant. Very tired we decided to be lazy and order the buffet. Big mistake. There was a very small selection and it was cold. Since the buffet was only US3.50 (and we were crazy foreigners anyway) we ordered chef salads that had an interesting and quirky Asian interpretation --sliced hot dogs (!) I wanted a chocolaty gooey dessert but they brought the bill when we asked for the menu again. So we gave up.
The driver was unable to find a room for the night so he had slept in the car. So Al drove and let him sleep in the back. Before nodding off he said 'don't you want to take the pretty way?' Of course. Always. It turned out to be a four hour trip over rudimentary roads through breathtaking scenery. The driver woke up and turned on his CB and began crunching chips noisily behind us.
Back at Chiang Mai I wanted some more salty French fries at McDonalds. There was great people watching at McDonalds in Chiang Mai. We decided the two beautiful scantily clad girls were speaking Hebrew and Al decided then and there that one day he would like to visit Israel.
We hit a few more shops on factory row, more Celedon and antiques. And then went to an umbrella and fan making village. It was very touristy and we were very tired. Although the last pottery shop we went to had lots of large, unusual & beautiful pieces. And I manage to buy four yards of hand loomed lime green cotton with a pastel diamond pattern in it. The driver had called and made a tentative reservation at yet another teak house hotel for us. We were heading towards it when he said, 'Why waste your money? Let's drive home tonight.' That would give us Friday free before starting the car rally early Saturday morning. This gave us a perfect excuse to visit Auchan (they have Carrefour's in Bangkok but we haven't seen this particular French supermarche by us) to stock up on car food.
The first part of the drive was pretty slow and awful. The road was only two lanes and under construction most of the way. And full of very big truck trailers which had to be passed. Al said the only time he had been as terrified was on the incredibly fast night sailboat race crossing he made of the English Channel where the rail was buried under water most of the time. But eventually the road turned into a divided highway and we got home four hours earlier than expected.
Our maid managed to wash all of our laundry. We packed again to leave early the next morning on a car rally organized by Allan's personnel department. One might question the sanity of participating in a car rally beginning in Bangkok -- with the terrible reputation traffic has here and all. Well the driving was not the insane part. The rally was organized into several timed legs where we had to search for spray painted letters on trees or fence posts at certain mile markers. That we could do. But on the legs with questions in Thai we were hopeless --even though we had the driver and Al's secretary along. The secretary has a very excitable personality and well, the driver had to drive. 200 participants in 50 cars stopped for lunch at one Esso gas station. I can only describe the food as 'trough' quality. The rally ended in a golf resort (here I use the word loosely) in Kanchaniburi. I took a nap by the pool while Al played 9 holes of golf with his secretary. The awards dinner went on interminably. We found out we placed 37th due mostly to our inability to answer riddles in Thai. Go figure. That night we had our own little cabin with the hardest bed either of us has ever experienced (and remember we've travelled in Germany).
The next morning we had an early tee time. Al bought more golf balls-good ones for him, old used ones for me. So for the entire morning we enjoyed the decadent luxury of riding around in a golf cart with our two caddies. We took the cooler from the car so if it was a hole without a snack bar we still could have a cold drink if we wanted. I played most of the holes. Trying to hit the ball off of uneven grass is very different than swinging at it on Astroturf over concrete with the highest rubber (learning) tee imaginable -- like I do at the driving range. I had a couple of good shots but still have a ways to good. Sand and water don't really intimidate me but when I stare at a 300 yard fairway I get very very nervous.
Once again life with Allan proves to be 'not boring'. He's off to the Philippines and I am going to try and take it easy for awhile.

Phuket (10-14 September 98)



(Unwittingly we took a beach holiday during the monsoon season)
Thursday
I practiced golf in the morning at the nearby driving range. This has really become fun since I am finally keeping my right shoulder down through my swing. Sure makes a difference - now I am getting good contact with the ball. It makes either a nice thwack or pock sound.
After researching our resort hotel on the internet -- it appears that it is not a hotel but a condominium. Guess I should take some food and tea making stuff.
My friend – also named Nancy -- called before I left. I would have rather gabbed than pack (I used an old 'for the beach' packing list). At the last minute decided to take my golf clubs.
I had the maid carry the bag downstairs where I added the guide books to the ‘to be packed’ pile. She and the chauffeur argued over who was going to carry my bag to the car. Like two little kids they each held a handle and said 'no! let me'. I said, 'You're NOT arguing over who is going to carry my bag.' Let the chauffeur do it.'
The airport logistics were rather complicated. Al was coming in from the Phillipines. I met Al's flight and then we proceeded to our check in VERY EARLY. Thai Airways took our bag and two golf bags (on free frequent flyer tickets!) no problem. We waited in an airport restaurant where we ordered spicy seafood salad.
On the flight I couldn't stop worrying about some consulting I was to do in a few weeks in Hong Kong and Singapore. I didn't have the training material yet and I still needed it to prepare for the trip.
A pretty sorry taxi at the Phuket airport met us. The roads aren't that good. The rough road was accentuated by the non-existent shock absorbers in the cab. It is a rather long drive from the airport in the North to Karon beach where we were staying on the West coast of the island.
Over-friendly help at the condo checked us into a 10th floor sea view condo. I asked for a non-smoking room. I just got a blank smile and a, 'What's that'? We didn't notice at first that we had twin beds. We were not very happy about that but also not willing to go through the rigmarole of changing rooms. So we just pushed to bed together.
It was fairly late but we decided to explore the immediate area on foot. Desperately aggressive shopkeepers tried to get us to buy from them. We declined. The girls in all the bars we passed all yelled 'Hello & Welcome' at us but we just walked by them.
Friday morning
We were served breakfast by a pretty little transvestite. I really liked his/her white rayon top from India. He/she had a really nice manicure with a deep burgundy polish. And I am pretty sure it was wearing hair extensions. There were very few customers in the restaurant and all the waiters hovered around us. Al finished before me despite having the full cooked breakfast(read fry-up). I had the European breakfast (roll & coffee). I was so astounded I was unable to speak as they took my plate away before I was done.
Before we could walk very far at all a man offered to rent us a jeep. So we plunked down 2400 baht (US$60) for four days for a little red 4WD Suzuki with airco. If we liked we could exchange it for a big American jeep the next day.
We took off in the jeep to explore the South side of the island. Al found 'Jimmy’s lighthouse' evidently a rather famous place in sailing circles. They served the best limeade I have ever had.
Next we went to the popular tourist beach area called Patong. We don't like these noisy, stinky bar ridden places but we are not opposed to visiting them for a short time. This is the place to buy fake designer watches. At lunch I proposed we circle the islands many excellent restaurants ordering spicy seafood salad at each one for comparison purposes.
In the afternoon we checked out the Phuket Country club golf course. Al made reservations for the next morning and then we both went to the driving range. It was more expensive than the most expensive driving range that we go to in Bangkok and not as nice. Only the practice putting greens were much nicer than the one we use. Al could not resist adjusting my driver swing.
I can't remember the name of the restaurant that night but we ate outside in a kind of primitive Flintstones garden. A very pregnant calico cat took me for the cat lover I am and practically tried to jump on our table to eat the BBQ tiger prawns (500 grams for 500 baht about US$15). After I had shelled a few of the shrimp I asked the waiter to give the leftover heads and shells to the cat away from our table. That worked. She didn't come back to bother us until she had finished our leftovers. Just as we were done it started to sprinkle rain.
So we got back into the jeep and headed back into Patong. Parking was not easy and as soon as we were about 6-10 blocks from the car the rain came down in great pelting sheets. We took shelter under the awning of a seafood restaurant kitchen along with some other soggy tourists.
Saturday
Al had an early tee-time and I just sat around on the balcony enjoying the sea breeze, ocean noise and view while reading. In the late morning I ventured out and bought some flip-flops. It was really hard to find some that were NOT fake designer. Now I was prepared for a walk on the beautiful beach. After my walk I lounged by the pool until Al returned. The beach was so wonderful we went back there for some serious wading where a very huge wave stole Al's glasses, safety strap and all.
Then it was back to the Light House for a sundowner. The drive around the Southwest of the island was indescribably beautiful. Both the beaches (Club Med is there) and the inland scenery are spectacular.
Dinner was at a very large restaurant at a crossroads. We had to walk and walk down many wooden covered corridors to get to the dining room. The food was not as spicy as we would have liked. I guess they tone it down for the tourists. There were very few customers in the restaurant and all the waiters stood around watching us eat.
Sunday
The day started with brunch at one of the five hotels in an integrated resort near the airport. First we got the bottom of our shorts wet with some rogue waves while wading on the beach there and then the monsoon caught us before we could get back to the jeep. We spent most of the day venturing onto the mainland. We took a wrong turn but that only led us to a really cool waterfall. We also checked out the possibility of chartering boats from Sunsail.
We found the best restaurant that night. Andaman Seafood had the best BBQ seafood and the spiciest spicy seafood salad. When it started to monsoon we just moved a few tables deeper into the restaurant. There were a few other customers so we did not have the sole attention of all the staff. What a relief AND the food was good, and Thai and hot enough. No compromises for tourists.
Monday
This was our last day so we walked on the beach in the morning despite the ominous black clouds to the North. They did not hold idle promise. It really, really rained on us but we were in our swimsuits so it didn't matter. There was no sign of Allan's glasses by the wrecked Russian fishing boat on the beach where he had lost them. We studied the sand crabs (Al stomped behind them to make them jump-he even managed to catch a few tiny ones).
Back in Patong I bought myself a Topaz ring for a souvenir. Remember all those desperately aggressive shopkeepers? The girl tried not to take the jewelry back after I had tried it on. Her technique worked. Lunch was French fries and hamburgers at the miniature golf course. It was raining too hard for us to play. But that did not stop two Japanese girls from playing.
As we checked out of the condo we asked about purchasing one of the units. It was four times as much as we were willing to pay. This started us dreaming about retiring to this surprisingly clean and modern island anyway. But unfortunately it’s a too expensive island.