Posts by Louisa

On Tuesday, a bunch of DMTs (Divemasters in training), instructors and other folk (like me and my dive buddy) all chartered a boat and headed off to Sail Rock, which lies 45 KM off of Koh Samui, about 1.5 hours by boat from Koh Tao. For reasons which I don’t fully understand, I didn’t take any pictures of Sail Rock itself – alright, it’s not that interesting above water – but I did take a bunch of the people and the party on the boat.

Sail rock is a pinnacle that goes from the surface down to 36 meters at the bottom. Above 17 meters, the visibility was stunning. Below that, it was like swimming through mud. Imagine standing on top of a mountain and looking down into clouds – it was like that, only with sand and other particles. So, staying above the sludge line, we saw tons of beauty. 6-banded angelfish and highly poisonous rockfish (both rare, apparently, in that area); tons of damselfish and hex grouper and sweetlips, schools of jack and other fish. Some of the fish were so blue it was hard to believe they were real. Most of the day was incredible. And then there was much rejoicing. Also much beer. If for some reason you’re not seeing the photos in their flimstrip at right, click here to have a look.

Koh Tao is coming into its own. The season is in full swing here, and it’s even more beautiful than the last time I was here. So is the diving.

This morning, 3 groups of Advanced divers went out to Chumpon Pinnacle for our Deep Skills Dive. Since our group was so small (only 3 + instructor) it only took about 3 minutes to do all the skills (math at 30 meters? surely you jest!). Afterwards, we had plenty of time to swim off on a bit of a shark hunt. While the other dive groups stuck close to the pinnacle (and the boat), hoping to see the odd barracuda, we headed straight out into the open water. 500 meters out, hanging in the endless blue, they came. First, there was a King Mackerel. Then, two black-tip reef shark (about 1 meter long). And then, the payoff. The grey reef shark, all around 2 meters long, took notice of us and got curious. Most kept a distance of about 15-20 meters, but a few were more adventurous. 4 meters off on my right side, I had an unobstructed view of one attacking fish for his breakfast, while 3 more of the gorgeous creatures circled just at the edge of our field of vision. Just when we thought we couldn’t possibly get any luckier, one shark began to approach us. It swam closer and closer – I think we all must have been holding our breath – and then passed directly underneath, only 2 meters from our dangling fins. It parked for a second or two, as if posing for us, and then slowly swam off into the distance.

We stayed down until half of us were seriously low on air, and then began our ascent. By the time we got to the surface we were so far from the boat that they had to come and pick us up. Comparing notes with the other groups, we discovered that of the 3 groups diving at the Pinnacle, we were the only ones to see any shark. We saw 8.

Later, on the second dive, white-eyed moray eels, who customarily hide in little holes and crevices in the rocks, lounged on top of the reef, feeding.

It was a fantastic morning. And tonight, there’s a night dive. I think I need a nap.

What with the ticket fiasco, I’ve had to spend considerable extra time in Bangkok. Fortunately, I have made a few friends in Bangkok over the past few months (on my frequent visits), and this has been a blessing. Dave has been an excellent social director and endless font of information and support, and another lovely friend of mine, whom I will not name here for reasons which will soon be apparent, very kindly offered to let me stay at her flat so that I wouldn’t have to spend a fortune on guest houses. At first, I was reluctant – I’m always concerned about imposing on people – but after a night and a day of thinking about it, I accepted. This seemed like a good idea for everyone involved, and we did have fun gossiping and watching movies long into the night. Everything seemed fine, until…

My friend has a boyfriend, British, who’s currently in London for several months. I met him on one of my previous visits to Bangkok and he apparently decided – either because I’m tall or because he’s a total moron – that I’m gay. Now, that’s ridiculous but not immediate cause for alarm. What is alarming is that he’s apparently decided I’m trying to steal his girlfriend. He tried ringing her on Valentine’s Day, but she and I had gone to grab a bite to eat after she got off work. It had never occurred to either of us that this might be something to worry about, until last night – or rather 5:00 this morning. The phone rang (waking both of us), and the argument began immediately. First, he accused her of having a man in her house. Then, a lesbian. Then, she was having affairs all over the place. I was awake too, and she (being a reasonable soul) kept offering to let him talk to me, but he wasn’t interested. It did not escape my attention that 5:00 a.m. in Bangkok is 11:00 p.m. in London, or closing time at the local pub. They alternately argued and hung up on each other for almost an hour before she finally just shook her head and handed me the phone.

“Jason?” I said. “This is Louisa.”

[pause]

“Oh. I thought your name was Lisa.” What this has to do with anything is beyond me, so I ignore it.

“I object,” I continue, using my calmest, most rational tone, “to the fact that you’ve decided I’m gay without ever having had a conversation with me.” He insists that he doesn’t care whether or not I’m gay. I carry on. “Moreover, I highly object to the fact that you’re not only accusing me of trying to steal your girlfriend away from you, which is patently ridiculous, but also that she would even consider such an offer. She talks about virtually nothing but you, and she’s just spent the last half hour telling you how much she loves you even though you’re being abusive and irrational.”

[another pause]

“Well,” he says, “this wouldn’t be a problem if it hadn’t happened before. Women coming and offering her all sorts of things -”

“Really? Well, that’s none of my business. Your girlfriend very kindly offered me a place to stay when I was in a minor crisis because my ex-boyfriend lost my plane tickets, and the only thing I’ve ‘offered’ her in return so far is a chocolate bar and a grilled squid. But I won’t bother you anymore after tonight. I’ll leave in the morning.”

[long silence. I suspect it’s at this point that he begins to realize how badly he’s behaving. He repeats something about this having happened before, but now it sounds like a lame excuse.]

“Well, then I guess there’s nothing I can do but let you talk to her again.”

Twenty minutes later, he apologized. Amidst protests from my friend, I left this morning and am back in Khao San Road.

I ask you, what is wrong with men?

That’s right, folks. It’s time for that simpering, odious Hallmark-brand holiday again. That special day when couples smugly trot through town showing off, or break up in a flurry of clothing flying out windows. That day when single folk are made to feel like cloven-hooved monsters for not having found a suitable mate. But there is something worse than Valentine’s Day in America.

They have Valentine’s Day in Thailand.

This is wrong on so many levels that it’s hard to know where to begin. For starters, they don’t have Hallmark here. They also don’t have Catholicism, which means no saints, which means no St. Valentine, after whom this whole circus is allegedly named. Yet every stall on Khao San road is festooned with pinkness, and the Pizza Hut in Siam Square is actually serving heart-shaped pizza. Every restaurant in a 10 mile radius, in fact, has got some kind of V-Day promotion happening. It’s enough to make me unsure whether to laugh, cry, or vomit.

So go off and hug your Valentine, or curl up in a ball and cry, or glare at the smug couples – whatever your preferred method of celebration may be. I’ll be here amongst the millions of already unbearably cute Thai people, now even more unbearably cute as they gaze into one another’s eyes.

On second thought, maybe I’ll stay in tonight.

People, take it from me. Don’t lose your plane tickets. Just don’t. They may be the most pain-in-the-ass things in the history of time to replace. And if they are lost, make sure that the city they’re lost in is the same as the city you’re in. Sounds like a no-brainer, but there it is. And I thought they’d be safer if I left them at home…

[Sigh.]

[author’s note: this entry was corrupted and its original db entry lost. below are listed the comments originally posted on this entry.]

stephen

riley@ring17.com

Well, I will say that most of the airlines have been very cool about things. Except for ATA. Beware of them. But Garuda and Air New Zealand have been really cool. Don’t think Miss Weeza lost them, either, that was my unfortunate doing. So those of you that know me are more than welcome to give me a swift kick in the backside!

2003-02-14 10:52:03

Miss Weeza

louisa@custom-deluxe.com

No worries, Rob. I’ll just put it on my long, long list of reasons to hate Microsoft. Thanks for the chat and the well wishes! Keep in touch!

2003-02-14 00:28:16

Rob

rcwatson@ureach.com

http://thewatsontribe.tripod.com

Doh! Sorry we got cut off on MSN Messenger. I hope you get your plane tickets back and that it all works out for the best. I just read through a few of your latest postings. Very cool stuff you’re seeing.

2003-02-14 00:08:49

Many thanks to Stephen for producing the new header graphic (4 months late, but better late than never, I suppose…). Now, if only I could make everything work properly again. I’m telling you, 3 months without touching stylesheets and I’m a wreck. If anyone can figure out how to make the location (currently in the sidenav) appear beside the header graphic, I’ll buy you a beer when I get to wherever you are. And if anyone notices something wonky about the way the header looks, please let me know – I’ve only got one browser (IE) and one platform (Windows ME) to test on.

In other news, I’m suffering today. Spent last night out with Dave (the man to see in Bangkok if you dig diving) and several friends from Spain and Holland. There was dinner and there was beer, which seems innocuous enough. But then, the guys who lived further afield realized the trains were no longer running (they stop at midnight) so we all might as well have a drink. I lost count after the 4th Pina Colada at the ladyboys’ van. [sigh]

Have I mentioned the ladyboys? All around Khao San Road and the road that circles the temple, there are VW vans that have been transformed into rolling bars. My favourite of these is operated by 3 of the loveliest ladies I’ve seen in some time. You should have seen their Christmas outfits: red satin and white fantasy-fur minidresses, Santa hats, the whole enchilada. Bless them. All I can say is thank God the Thai authorities have cracked down and all the bars are required to close at 2, otherwise I might not ever have made it home…

The other night, I got to thinking about what it was that I had hoped to get out of my travels, and whether I’m succeeding. It occurred to me that the most important things were meeting people, seeing things I’ve never seen before, and generally letting anxiety and tension slip away, stripping away the layers to uncover a truer self. So I began a list – I had thought it would be a top-10 sort of thing – of highlights of the journey so far. Instead, I came up with over 4 pages worth in under 15 minutes. I thought it would be fitting to share an annotated cross-section.

Being in the presence of the Reclining Buddha. As Karen put it, a welcome moment of ineffability.

A walk through shantytown .

Feeling like family at Libra Guest House, Chiang Mai. When you’re far away from home, in another culture and another language, the thing you least expect is to feel truly at home somewhere. It’s touching and fabulous, and I am ever so thankful for the welcome (and the Thai lessons) I got from Dao, Will, Ti, Nong, Gai, Tek and the whole family.

Spending the day poolside as the Khao San circus churns below. Once you’ve been in Bangkok a few times, what you long for the most is a moment of quiet. It’s not that the place is overwhelming so much as the fact that there’s only so many times you can go shopping for another t-shirt or another pair of fisherman’s trousers, and nine times out of ten your room at the guest house is not the comfiest place to hang out. I have found an oasis – the D&D Inn (where I’m staying again now) has a pool and a garden on the roof, where I can while away the hours in peace, reading and sipping fruit shakes, far above the deafening competing CD stalls and milling throngs of newly-arrived farang.

Cocktails with a bizarre and hilarious Polish couple around the temple in Soi Rambuttri, Bangkok, Thailand. They were eating a bag of grilled insects and kept offering them to me and everyone else who came by. We’re still in touch.

Sunset and the stars from a hammock on Chaalok Ban Kao (sunset beach), Koh Tao, Thailand. The hammock is roughly 1 meter from the water at low tide. Enough said.

A bright orange moonrise over the Pacific at the Sailing Club, Nha Trang, Vietnam. Nothing quite like toasting the beauty of nature. I was reminded of a poem by the fabulous e.e. cummings:

II
touching you i say (it being Spring
and night) “let us go a very little beyond
the last road – there’s something to be found”

and smiling you answer “everything
turns into something else, and slips away . . . .
(these leaves are Thingish with moondrool
and i’m ever so very little afraid”)

i say
“along this particular road the moon if you’ll
notice follows us like a big yellow dog. You
don’t believe? look back. (Along the sand
behind us, a big yellow dog that’s . . . . now it’s red
a big red dog that may be owned by who
knows)

only turn a little your. so. And
there’s the moon, there is something faithful and mad”

In Hoi’an: beauty at every turn in narrow streets; the color of the silks and the lanterns over every door in the evening; wine and cheese with Aussies; running into an old Chicago acquaintance at the bar after a year and a half without contact; late night at Mr. Chan’s. I think Hoi’an was probably the most fun I’ve had yet. At one point, we had 5 continents represented around the table at Happy Hour.

Around Ha Kiem lake, Hanoi, Vietnam: coffee and cinnamon ice cream in the afternoon; fireworks over the water on Tet; many-colored lights strung from every tree; sitting on a bench chatting at 4 in the morning. Hanoi may be the first big city in Southeast Asia that I could imagine living in.

Waking in a fairy tale on Ha Long Bay. Not for the first time, I desperately wish I could post some photos. Ha Long Bay is the most mysterious, breathtaking, stunningly gorgeous place I’ve seen, perhaps ever. 1,969 limestone islets rise from crystal clear turquoise water, in all sizes and shapes. Caves and beaches line the waterfront. I woke on the morning of my liveaboard tour in a cabin surrounded with windows on 3 sides. What I saw when I opened my eyes made me feel like a storybook princess in a strange and beautiful land.

The maddest motorbike ride, bar none. In Chiang Mai, over mountain trails, across streams, through rocks and mud, steeply up and steeply down. If I had stopped to think about it I would have spent the entire time thinking I was about to die. But the scenery was just too gorgeous. And that guy was an amazing driver.

Getting email that simply says, “Come home soon. We miss you.” It’s good to feel loved from such a distance. Thanks, Eric.

Seeing more possibility in the world and in my life than I have since I was 16 years old. And that, my friends, wins.

OK, OK. I get it now. See, when you’re travelling in Vietnam, most of the time you don’t get to actually see many average Vietnamese people. The only people you’re guaranteed contact with are those who survive on tourism (hawkers, shopkeepers, and travel agents), who can be pretty tough and pretty rude. But the thing is, the real Vietnamese people are pretty great. Yes, there’s a hardness here that isn’t present in Laos or Thailand. Perhaps it comes from the war with America and its allies, perhaps from the centuries of battling the Chinese, perhaps it’s both – or maybe it’s got to do with the Communist government discouraging Buddhism which would normally be the #1 religion here. I could speculate endlessly, but it would be difficult to prove anything. It’s also a very conservative culture here, which also may have something to do with the government, and besides isn’t necessarily a bad thing – unless you’re an outsider. But there is a sense of humor in these people, and curiosity, and a desire to make contact with others.

It’s Tet, the enormous Lunar New Year celebration that takes over the country for 3 days every year. What this means is that people who are normally working while I’m out walking around, or home with their families when I’m out in the evenings, are out on the streets, walking and eating and celebrating. On New Year’s Eve, the 31st, I was out with an Austrian couple at about 3:30 in the morning, and we stopped at a street vendor to get another beer and something to eat. The Vietnamese guys at the next table insisted on sharing their rice wine. Yesterday, I took a walk around the lake and it was like being in a whole different city than the day before. Where I’d become accustomed to seeing suspicion, I saw curiosity. Where I expected hostility, I got smiles. And for once in all my time here, for an entire day, people said, “Hello!” and didn’t try to sell me something. It was lovely.

I met a woman named Ti in Nha Trang who told me that she felt bad for Westerners in Vietnam sometimes, because so many people just see us as walking dollar signs. To be fair, it is partly our fault – during the war, America spent a lot of time spreading propaganda about how great life is the US and how everybody’s rich and can do as they please, etc. I guess they did a good job, because some people still believe it. Not everyone, though. So I guess it’s up to us, really, to show them that we’re more than money, that we’ve got something to give. Making contact was supposed to be what it’s all about anyway, right?

Well, I suppose it was bound to happen eventually. I really do understand now why some people are so very frustrated with Vietnam. It’s all well and good for people to try and sell me things, it’s even OK for them to try repeatedly, but some things are not OK. For instance:

1. 10 year old children selling postcards, no matter how much they may want you to buy just one more pack, under no circumstances at all, should ever tell me, “Fuck you and your grandmother!!” when I do not buy.

2. Travel agents take a commission on what they sell. This is an accepted fact. They’ve saved you the hassle of going to the train station and figuring things out on your own, it’s only fair. However, a $9 commission on a $21 ticket is a bit excessive, no matter how much they try to explain it away.

3. Tour operators whose tickets have the words “10% refund fee” printed at the bottom in 2 languages should give refunds when they are requested. They should not offer the customer 10% of the ticket price in lieu of the refund, and they certainly should not tell the customer, “NO REFUND! YOU GO NOW” when the customer attempts to point out their own published policy.

It can be a bit trying.

However, on the plus side, I will be going to Hanoi tonight on a train and not a bus. Granted, I’ve lost a bundle on the deal, but I’ll be able to sleep and walk around instead of being packed in like a sardine amongst the luggage and fellow travellers. And on top of that, I had a lovely motorbike tour of Hue and the surrounding areas today. It included a trip to the monastery where Thich Nat Hahn, one of the coolest buddhists ever, lived and taught until he left Vietnam for political reasons. If you get the time, you should read his books. Also on the list were several other pagodas from the last 400 years or so, and a gorgeous complex built for an emperor in the 1800s that they call a ‘tomb’, but which really is more of a city.

On that note, sorry to be brief, but I don’t want my train to leave without me….

Well, well. Behind on my posting again, as you can see. I’m currently in Hoi’an, have been for several days. For the first two, I managed to somehow aviod succumbing to the shopping demon that lurks in each and every lovely little street in this city, contenting myself with wandering aimlessly enjoying the sights. It really is remarkably charming here – the influence of the ancient Chinese is everywhere, in pagodas and bridges and meeting houses and even private homes, but the fin de siecle French colonial style has made a strong mark as well. Between the architecture, the lovely colored lanterns, the smiling faces, and the food (really, the food is outstanding), I barely even noticed the brightly colored silks in virtually every shop. I won’t even pretend I missed the shoes, though.

Yesterday, my will collapsed. I wandered into a shop owned by a local woman I’d met, thinking I’d just have a look, maybe get a pair of trousers or something. Let’s just say I’m going to be sending home a big fat package tomorrow morning. Yes, including shoes. How could I resist? They make everything to measure! They even draw around and measure the arches of each individual foot! Last night, I dreamt of designs.

Today, to get away from temptation at least for a while, I went out to the ruins of My San, formerly the most holy ground of the Champa Empire. The temples there date from the 4th to the 11th century, and although they are all now in varying states of decay, it’s still quite a sight to behold. Not for the first time, I wish I were able to post photos.

At one point, I was walking around one temple group examining these big craters in the ground, overgrown with grass. I was wondering why this temple group had (what seemed to be) man-made lakes when none of the others did. It turns out those were bomb craters. The Vietnamese people had forgotten about the Champa temples until the French came and started chopping down trees in the jungle, exposing the complex. By that time, it was already falling into ruin and decay – the jungle is not kind to stone, and nobody had been keeping it up for a long time. Then, during the Vietnam War, the Viet Cong used the buildings as a hiding place from American troops, who proceeded to bomb the living hell out of them. The worst part: the particular group that took the biggest hit was the oldest, which hadn’t been modified since the 7th century. It reminded me of the days in the States when soldiers stored munitions in churches, assuming that nobody would dare to attack a holy place. By the end of the Civil War, hundreds of churches across the South were destroyed. There is, of course, an enormous difference between a 100 year old church and a 1600 year old temple complex, but it just goes to show that when war is declared, nothing is sacred anymore.

On a more positive note, have I mentioned about Tet? It’s the big giant festival of the lunar (Chinese) New Year, and the biggest party in all of Vietnam. It’s the 1st of February. I’ll definitely still be in the country, but not sure where yet – either Hue (ancient Imperial city) or Hanoi, depending on how things go. I’ll keep you all posted, for sure – how can I resist two New Year’s Eve parties in two months?!?