travel

[entry updated on 3. January for corrections and minor additions]

Happy 2003, everybody!

New Year’s Eve on a tropical island can be a lot of fun, especially when you’re hanging out with Divers, some of the craziest people on earth. We all went to a little bar up the street from the Dive Center called Kudeta to start things off – even though things had really been started hours earlier, even before I came back from my afternoon dives. Anyway, at Kudeta everyone proceeded to get as far out of their heads as they could manage, assisted by all manner of chemical and organic compounds, many of which I didn’t even know were there until late on New Year’s Day. By midnight, Nigel (former DJ, current Dive Instructor) was in the booth wearing nothing but his headphones, screaming, “YOU WANNA SEE MY KNOB? YOU WANNA SEE MY KNOB? HERE IT IS!!”, alternating with “IT’S NEW YEAR’S EVE!! EVERYONE NOT DANCING IS A CUNT!! ALL OF YOU, DOWN THAT SIDE OF THE BAR: CUNTS!!!” This, apparently, is standard holiday behavior for Nigel, who was also naked on Christmas Eve and yelling into a microphone. Commented a bystander: “Nigel sure likes to get his kit off, eh?” Yes.

Midnight was great – everyone in the bar knew everyone else so there was an extended period of wandering around hugging everyone you saw, shouting HAPPY NEW YEAR into their ears because you were so deaf from having HAPPY NEW YEAR shouted into your ear by the last 15 people you hugged, and lots of toasting and drink buying and so forth. After the affection subsided, Owen (Divemaster in Training) began rounding people up and putting them in taxis to our next destination, a club on the opposite side of the island. By this time, Owen was quite a sight – sweating profusely, pupils like saucers, eyes rolling, with a heavy list to starboard – but I must grant that he was efficient. With military precision and liberal bullying, he got us all motivated: “YOU. Get in that truck. NOW. Tim, put her on the back of your bike and get going to In Touch. NOW.” [ed. note 03/01/2003: having spoken to many of the people there, not even Owen remembers leaving Kudeta, much less marshalling the troops. Nobody seems to recall much of what happened later on, either. Owen woke up the following afternoon on a bus near the beach, wondering what happened.] The only problem was that by the time we got there, several of us realized that we’d already had plenty to drink and moreover were still pretty tired from the afternoon dives, and really just wanted to go home. So we gamely downed a beer or two an then went back out in search of transportation. I don’t think it would be possible to adequately explain the insanity that is transit on Koh Tao on New Year’s Eve, after 3 solid days of rain, so I won’t try. Let’s just say it took a while and we hung on really tight. In bed by two, I was in excellent shape for an afternoon of diving on New Year’s day. Which brings me to:

Part 2: Happy to Be Here
From the moment we all arrived at the dive center, it was clear that it was going to be an interesting day. I was a bit tired and a bit nervous about my equalization problem, Susan* had lost her bag (passport, Visa card, cash, camera) at a beach party the night before and Pam*‘d had her cash stolen; Cameron (Divemaster) was a little bleary-eyed and hung over, and Marco (Instructor) looked beat.

Now, before I continue, I should probably say a few words about my fellow divers on this particular afternoon. As I may or may not have mentioned, I had some trouble equalizing my sinuses on a previous dive and therefore had to join another group to complete my re-certification. Most of the group was fine, good underwater and knowledgeable about equipment and procedures. Susan (the one who lost her bag) was a bit on the nervous side, but did very well at 18 meters, Lucy and Stefan were very together, and then there was Cindy*. Cindy was nowhere near fine. Cindy couldn’t remember whether to inflate or deflate, couldn’t remember to watch the others in the group and stay with them underwater, couldn’t remember that in order to move she had to kick her legs. She didn’t kick at all, and on every dive I was on she had to be reeled in because she was wandering off in a direction entirely apart from the rest of us.

New Year’s Day was not your average afternoon diving experience. The first dive went very smoothly, right up until the end, when we did a safety stop 5 meters underwater. I was hovering around Marco’s knees, Susan and Pam were drifting up near the surface, and Cameron was struggling to drag Cindy up from the bottom (she wouldn’t kick) when I heard a motor. I looked up just in time to see a dark shadow passing, Marco kicking up and grabbing Susan and Pam and yanking them back down – the boat missed their heads by less than a meter. This boat, confronted with two dive boats on the two pinnacles of the site, with no less than 4 groups of divers underwater (bubbles clearly visible) between the two, had decided to cut straight through the center of the dive site – at speed. This is unheard of, and completely outside the bounds of any sort of common sense. The worst part was that it belonged to another dive school. Marco was furious, Susan was beside herself, and everyone was shaken. Fortunately, everyone was also completely unharmed.

We got back on the boat and headed for the next dive site. Susan decided she was in no shape to get back in the water, so the rest of us went down. It was time for our last exercise – compass navigation. Sound difficult? Not really. You look at the compass to get a bearing, then swim in a straight line for about 20 seconds. Then you turn around and swim straight back. Marco waited at the beginning/end point, and Cameron swam with us. Since visibility was low and Cameron was ahead of me, I kept an eye on Cindy. When I was turning around, so was she. I thought, “Great, she can see me, I can see her, she’ll follow me back and it’ll all be good.” I was grievously mistaken. I swam back, and one by one the other all arrived – except for Cindy. We waited a minute or two and then surfaced, according to the standard PADI procedures. No sign of her. Marco went looking for her in 3 different directions. No sign of her. Pam started to panic. Still no sign. Finally, about 5 minutes later, she surfaced – roughly 100 meters away, back at the boat.

By the time we got back to the dive center we all needed a beer. But the good news is that I’m legal to dive again, and planning to do as much more as possible. I’m going to have to forgo the next round of courses, though, since going up ladders on to boats with full SCUBA and 6 kilos of weights on has not been good for my ankle. So I’ll take it easy for a few days and then head off to lovely Vietnam around the 7th or 8th.

So what did you guys do for New Year’s?

And a big friendly greeting to you all from lovely Koh Tao, one of the best SCUBA destinations in the world! I’m here doing some diving at Buddha View on the south coast, which may be the most idyllic place I’ve ever seen…

Picture the ideal tropical island. Lush, verdant rainforested hillsides rise from perfect blue water, capped here and there with gently sloping rock formations. Scatter bungalows on the hillsides and hammocks along the beach. Add sun shine by day and a lovely breeze at night. picture a large bay with calm, warm water to swim in and subtract all jellyfish, tiger and white shark. Got it? Are you sighing yet? That’s where I am. My bungalow is about 1 minute from the water, 2 minutes from the dive center, and miles and miles from any pollution and bustle. Power is only on from 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. and people smile all day long. I can’t wait to see some of the dive sites – which begins tomorrow.

My only fear at this point is I’ll never leave here. I’ve still got all of Vietnam and a lot remaining in Thailand and Lao to see. Odds, anyone? I guess it all depends on how badly sunburnt I get and whether I wind up with the bends…

Well, it’s Christmas. Although I must admit it’s hard to get into the Christmas spirit – aside from the bartenders at Gulliver’s all decked out in Santa hats with chasing LED lights and the (really a little bit creepy) Christmas music in the all-Thai department store down the street, it’s not really looking or feeling a lot like Christmas here. Hey, what do you expect from a country where (a) 90% of the population is Buddhist, (b) Hallmark has no foothold, (c) everybody’s pretty much nice all the time and (d) there are no Douglas Fir trees?

I, however, am feeling perky and oddly like wearing a nice wool sweater, despite the fact that it’s typically hot and sticky in Bangkok today. I suppose the biggest difficulty stems from not being around most of the people I love, which is normally the way I spend this holiday. I miss you all, and will raise a toast (or several) to you this fine evening.

And what do we have planned for the holiday? An extravagant dinner tonight at a swank new place in town, followed by present opening and much festivity. Tomorrow, it’s the traditional Christmas Day activities: hangover recovery, TV watching, and eating. It promises to be a fabulous few days.

So Happy Christmas, Merry Christmas, Happy Channuka, Happy Holidays, whichever greeting you prefer – may your days be merry and bright, even if all your Christmases aren’t white.

I have returned from the mountains of the north, with a sprained ankle and a boyfriend with a head cold, new friends and excellent memories. Leave it to me to skid down a hillside and twist my ankle painfully only 15 minutes from our first night’s host village – I have decided that I’m still all good on water, but total crap on land. The mountains of Northern Thailand are spectacular, though, and I was able to enjoy (in lieu of Day 2’s 4 hour hike) an exhilarating 90 minute motorcycle ride through what I would have been certain was unpassable terrain for any motor vehicle. The kid driving me must have been using some kind of magic jungle force, swerving around rocks and ravines, roaring up 60 degree inclines and twisting through even steeper downhills, crossing streams and dodging rocks, negotiating hairpin curves without skidding fatally into ravines. It was like the best rollercoaster ride ever, complete with impending doom at every turn. Most of all, it was a real challenge to my newfound philosophy of not worrying about things I can’t help. I actually found myself looking around at the gorgeousness of the land as we rode (while hanging on for dear life, mind you), and I got off the bike with a grin on my face. Might be the best 200 baht I’ve spent yet (around $4.50)

Anyway, a few other things about trekking: first, if you’re going in the winter and they tell you it’s going to be cold, do not scoff (as we did), think “how cold can it be?” and just bring a long-sleeved t-shirt. They are not kidding. Since our group was very small (only 6 people) we were able to use the extra blankets provided by the villagers (Lahu) at our first stop for the usual group of 10-12. This meant 5 blankets apiece instead of the usual 2, and we all went to bed wearing at least 2 layers of clothing. Most of us still didn’t sleep, and those who did woke up far too soon, shivering and wishing for down duvets.

By the end of the second day, we were at a lower elevation and when we arrived at our second (Lisu) village, it was hot and sunny and pleasant. We dried off from our rafting adventure (over a waterfall!) in no time and happily speculated that it probably wouln’t be as cold that night. We were sorely mistaken. After a high of 30 degrees Celcius, the temperature dropped to an overnight low of 5. That’s right, only 5 degrees from freezing. We each had 6 blankets this time, and I think everyone got at least a few hours of sleep. I woke up around 2:30 in the morning needing to pee, and after waking Stephen and rooting around for flashlight and paper, I started limping toward the door. On the way, I lost my footing and staggered crazily, almost falling on top of poor Shelly, who had the mat closest to the door. When we discussed the event the following day, we decided it was really a good thing I hadn’t, since we all would have been laughing too hard to get me off of her before she suffocated and died.

When I got back from the toilet, I found my blankets in a tangled mess on my sleeping mat, and was for some time totally unable to figure out how to get them all on straight again. True to form, cold and cranky and with a throbbing ankle, I started bitching at Stephen. “I can’t get my blankets on!” I hissed, as if he could do anything about it. “I’m going to freeze to death in fucking Thailand!”

Sources, I hear, have issued heightened terrorism warnings in Thailand, specifically for the Full Moon Party on Ko Pagnan, which is just about the biggest and best collection of drunken, drugged, oversexed, underdressed, debauched Westerners an Islamic militant could possibly wish for. I am pleased to announce that I will not be in attendance – not really because of the terrorism warnings, per se (although that does provide another very good reason) but rather because it just doesn’t sound like all that much fun. Instead, I will be trekking around Northwestern Thailand for the next 3 days, then living in the lap of luxury in Bangkok for Christmas, and once Stephen heads back to the States (no luck extending the trip), it’s off to Ko Tao for some quiet time with the fishies. Worry not, ye terrorist-fearing friends! Ko Tao, although a lovely idyllic island, is known for its excellent SCUBA diving and not, mercifully, for the biggest parties this side of pretty much anywhere.

Feel better? Me too.

So here I am, back in Bangkok. Apologies for the long lapse in posts – when I’m having fun, I have a hard time sitting in Internet cafes for an extended period of time, and when I’m not having fun (i.e. bored), there’s nothing much to say. You understand.

Vientiane was so lame that I really wished I’d stayed in Vang Vieng for another day or even two. It was expensive, there wasn’t much of anything to see, and it was kind of dingy and depressing. I splurged on a posh room and spent two and a half days catching up with world events courtesy of BBC World News. Then I came back to Bangkok a day early, to scare the crap out of Stephen by knocking on the door to his room at 5 in the morning when he’d just arrived 3 hours before. He says he thought it was the police. I wonder if there’s something I should know about.

But Stephen has indeed arrived safely in Bangkok, and he and I are having a ball. He is, naturally, still exhausted from the flight, but being a trooper and keeping up with me and my 50 Baht cocktail sprees. We’re trying to figure out where to go next, and whether to leave the country. We’ve heard really good things from fellow travellers about Cambodia, so Ankgor and Siem Riep are sounding like possibilities, and of course I would have no trouble at all going back to Vang Vieng for, say, New Year’s Eve or something. I’ll keep you all posted, of course.

But before I go to the National Museum, I’ve got to mention a few unrelated events, to add to the ever-growing body of evidence that the world is not as big as it looks.

Yesterday morning, we were walking over to Boots to pick up a few things when I caught the eye of a young Thai woman. She looked familiar. At first, I thought she might just be someone I’ve seen around locally (in Bangkok), but then something in the back of my head clicked. I turned around as she passed me and we pointed at each other. I had met her at a bar in Chang Mai, where she was drinking with a friend of a friend of a friend (American, as it happens). Now she’s in Bangkok.

Later on, in the afternoon, walking back from Wat Pho, I spotted a couple of guys talking to a streetside vendor. I thought, “No, it can’t be…” but it was. Christof and Axel, from the slow boat in Lao. I hadn’t even realized they were coming back to Bangkok, but they go back to Germany from here on Sunday. Hopefully – they called the airline yesterday, and were told they’re not on the passenger list…

Around 11:30 last night, after chatting with an Aussie/Brit couple for an hour or two over way too many cocktails, we were meandering down Soi Rambuttri when someone called my name. It was Martiyn Blom, another slow boat acquaintance. I last saw him in Vang Vieng, and likewise hadn’t known he was going to be back in Bangkok. He was sitting with Christof and Axel, whom he’d just run into himself, drinking Vodka/Red Bulls at a bar van run by three gorgeous ladyboys. We had a few toasts to see him off – he goes back to Holland this evening.

It is a small world, indeed. Maybe it’s not as odd as I think, maybe it’s that I’ve been following, for the past week or two, the easiest and therefore most travelled routes, but either way it’s both heartening and a little odd to think that one can walk down the street in the biggest city in Southeast Asia and run into people one knows. Kind of like home, except I still only know one bartender. Sigh…

Oh, what a lovely lovely day. Adam, wherever you are, bless your heart for insisting I stop at Vang Vieng. Although it’s totally overrun with backpackers, they can’t do a thing to dent the sheer gorgeousness of this place. All of this is made even better by the fact that the bed I slept in last night and the shower I had this morning are without doubt the best since home. I’d tell you all the name of the guest house, but I’ve forgotten it again.

The drive from Luang Prabang was spectacular, albeit bumpy – all those hills and mountains I saw from the Mekong were our terrain. And about 4 hours into the 6 hour drive, these different-shaped, almost jagged, rocky heights began to appear on the horizon. I thought how lovely it would be to get a better look at them, sit in their shadow, watch the sun set behind them. Imagine my surprise, then, when I wandered down to the river’s edge here in Vang Vieng after checking into my guest house, and found myself standing squarely at their foot. I spent the day on a little peninsula/island in the middle of the river, lying in a hammock and reading, jumping in the water to cool off now and then. Idyllic doesn’t even begin to describe it.

I feel like so much has happened since last I posted that I shouldn’t even bother trying to set it all down, but I feel compelled to share the highlights: a spectacular 3-course french meal at L’Elephant in Luang Prabang, with good French wine, eaten in perfect colonial liesure and luxury; sunset from Mt. Phousi; the best homemade yogurt – well, I’ll spare the rest of the superlative statement. It’s been a great few days. Let’s just leave it at that.

Next on the agenda: tonight, try to find my friends who arrived this afternoon. Tomorrow, kayaking and innertubing, partly in caves. Monday: kayaking and riding to Vientiane. Whee!

Oh yes, and my back is feeling much better, thanks.

Whew! 7 bus hours and 15 slow boat hours later, here I am in Luang Prabang, Lao. The bus from Chang Mai to Chang Khong was largely uneventful, so I’ll spare you. That entire 24 hours, in fact, was only notable because of the vicious attack of something-or-other that I came down with at the guest house in Chang Khong. Sometime about halfway through my first and only beer, about 3 sips into my (very good) soup, I started to feel really odd. A few minutes later, I realized my head was roasting and my hands and feet were freezing. Five minutes after that, I apologized to my dinner companions and went to my room. It took 2 hours and 3 blankets for me to get warm, and I laid there in bed mentally going over every single thing that might have been wrong with me, from a reaction to Malarone (my antimalarial pills, which I’d started the previous day) or my mosquito repellent, to malaria or dengue fever to food poisoning to having been drugged by the Aussie on the bus. The next morning, and ever since, I’ve felt perfectly fine (although a bit tired) and have carried on taking the malarone and using the repellent with absolutely no ill effects. I suppose it was bound to happen at one time or another – the inexplicable 24 hour illness. I assure you all that I am well now, and intend to carry on eating and drinking and exploring as usual.

Now. About the slow boat.

Things slow boat travel is not:

Romantic and cozy. If you’re looking for comfortable, relaxing, kick-back and dig it travel, this is probably not what you’re on the market for. The boats are crammed full of people (mostly farang), and the seats (which basically amount to just wood benches along the sides) are, well, they’re narrow wooden benches. You get the picture. We won’t even discuss the toilet.

Boring. This morning, while pulling into our second stop of the day, we ran into a mountain. Yes, you heard me. The Mekong is lined on both sides by rainforest, which sometimes rises so steeply out of the water that you can’t imagine how the locals get down to the boats at all. This was one of those spots. We turned and began to move toward shore, as usual. But normally, when approaching shore, the motor cuts out before we actually hit the bank. This time, not so much. There was some confused shouting and much looking around among the passengers, and then we just rammed right into the thing. The prow scooped out a great big dollop of mud. It took the crew about 15 minutes, with what appeared to be nothing more than hammers and twine, to get us moving again. No further mishaps befell us. However. Our friend Cristoph, who had been moved to a different, cargo-laden boat this morning before leaving Pakbeng (our night stopover – we’ll get to that in a minute) tells us that his boat ran out of petrol at one point and just drifted along the river for several hours. He arrived roughly 2 hours after we did.

Luxurious. I’ve already mentioned about the seats and the crowds, but probably the most fun was the stopover. You see, the Mekong is a dangerous river at best, and navigating it at night would be tantamount to suicide – if the enormous whirlpools don’t get you, the rocks popping out here, there and everywhere certainly will. So, around sunset last night, we pulled in at Pakbeng, a little market town that, I’m willing to bet, has grown up out of the needs of river traffic on this route. We decided to stay at what had been heralded the ‘best guest house in town’. The rooms were indeed very clean, the mosquito nets had no unpatched holes, there was even an outlet to charge things – until the power cut out at midnight, that is. We were pretty impressed. At night, though, the adventure began. Loreto (see below) knocked on the wall between our rooms – it must have been 2:00 in the morning. “Louisa! Do you have a lighter? I can’t see anything and I think there’s something big in here!” I listened. I’d been hearing faint scrabbling noises all night and assumed the standard mix of lizards and suchlike things that you see in these towns at night. But she was right, it did sound like something bigger. “I read about these really big lizards,” she whispered. I told her I highly doubted we had Komodo Dragons in our rooms, and eventually managed to convince her to go back to sleep – I couldn’t have found my lighter in the dark, anyway. The next morning we talked to the other guests in the house, and one of them had managed to get a bead on the culprit with a flashlight. It was a big rat, going after the food in people’s packs. I silently thanked my camper’s instincts – I hadn’t had any food at all in my room – although I could have sworn I spotted something jumping off my night table when I woke up, and whatever it was took an antiseptic towelette with it.

Things slow boat travel is:

Slow. They are not kidding. The trip from Hung Xai to Luang Prabang is roughly 300 km and we managed it in just under 14 hours.

Visually Stunning. I didn’t realize that this much unspoilt, undisturbed beauty still existed in the world. Every once in a while we’d go by a little village, some huts on stilts, maybe a buffalo or two. Most of the time, the country that rolled by was gorgeous rainforest – enormous nubbly green lush hills, with snippets of clouds clinging to the highest points. Rock formations – slate and limestone – occasionally rose up out of the water, some almost 500 yards long. The river itself must be well over a mile wide at its wider points, and was never narrower than 600 yards. It was truly, breathtakingly, amazingly gorgeous.

Exciting. Did I mention about driving into the mountain? And Christoph, the lucky bastard, said that while they were going by the exact same spot where that happened, he saw an elephant hauling timber from a log boat on the river up to the village. Can you imagine?

Tranquil I did a lot of reading. I napped. I listened to entire albums for the first time since I left home. We chatted, and then we kept to ourselves. It was lovely.

Fun! I’ve been mentioning all these people for a reason – I met up with a group of 4 people traveling together (who had themselves met up earlier on in their travels and decided to join forces) and a fellow lone female. They are fabulous and fun, and actually 4 of us are sharing a room tonight (a big, beautiful room, mind you, and only us 2 girls have to share a bed, and that only because we lost a coin toss) – they are Tim (writer, UK, on the road since about August, will not be home for 2 years), Cherrie (probably spelling it wrong, UK, used to do marketing, wants to become a nutritionist, on the road until sometime next summer), Axel (German, he and Cherrie are together, studying to be a Doctor), Christoph (also German, travelling with Axel except for when he broke his arm in China and had to fly home for a few weeks), and Loreto (Chilean, PhD. student and journalist, living in Paris around the corner from the flat where I stayed that last time I was there). So now you’ve got the cast of characters. I’m sure we’ll all part ways in anothr few days, but it’s nice to hang with a group for a little bit – makes me miss the gang at home a little less…

And there you have it. My last several days, in a nutshell. And how is Lao? Well, aside from the beautiful part, the people are really friendly, and it’s much more different from Thailand (at first glance, at least) than I had expected. For one thing, it’s much quieter here. Traffic moves at a saner pace, when there’s any traffic at all. There’s not this enormous pressure to do, see, FASTER! that I felt in Bangkok particularly. Also, Luang Prabang, from what little we saw before the sun went down tonight, is going to be interesting. There’s all this crumbling French colonial architecture right up against traditional homes – intermingled with the do it yourself style (thatched or tin roofs, wood walls, on stilts) so popular in Thailand and here. I’ll have more time to explore it tomorrow, and then the Waterfalls the day after that.

Oh! one more thing: I cannot receive SMS here, so don’t try (and I’m sorry if you got no response from messages already sent). E-mail, however, I will be checking whenever I can.

I’m about to leave Chang Mai for Laos, and I’m finding it difficult, perhaps for the first time ever, to leave the guest house I’ve been in for the past 5 nights. What’s so unique about it is that not only is it run by the family but the family lives here. 3 generations, all in the same complex. And when they say you’re welcome under their roof, they really mean it – but they’re not indiscriminate. I’ve watched them turn away prospective customers because they seemed creepy or rude, I’ve heard tales of guests being asked to leave because they were up partying too late into the night and woke the family, I’ve watched them go out of their way to accommodate people who are kind and open. The fact that this is their house lends a whole different perspective to the whole venture. The upshot for those of us staying here is that you really do feel at home – I felt safe, for once, leaving my pack in my room without a padlock on the door. I felt safe and comfortable at night, and therefore slept more soundly than I have since I arrived in Thailand. And I’ve been happy and felt cared for, which is a lot considering these people didn’t know me at all just a week ago.

Probably my favorite thing about the whole family living together is the benefits reaped by the youngest generation. Numkin (which I’m probably misspelling) is a year and 8 months old, knows her ABCs in Thai and English, is played with by everyone – literally about 10 people, not including guests – and is just about the best behaved, happiest child I’ve ever seen. In almost a week, there’s not been a single tantrum. I think about how we do things back home and this seems the much healthier option. Instead of a child being raised by one or two people part-time and the TV most of the time, this little girl spends virtually no time in front of the television, but a lot of time learning and playing and meeting people from all over the world.

Will, who’s married to Dao (one of the daughters), is from Canada, and still acclimating to the Thai way of life. Sometimes it’s funny – when he goes out with the guys, Dao isn’t worried that he’ll cheat on her, she’s worried he’ll be struck by lightning.

Really, I can’t say enough good things about the past week. I’m definitely coming back to do the trekking and spend some more time – I’ve even started to learn to speak Thai, thanks to the staff (I teach them how to swear in English, they teach me how to be polite in Thai). Maybe we’ll even come here for Christmas. I hear they have a hell of a party.

And now, off to the bus station.

The good news: Chang Mai is still lovely, and I’ve made some new friends here. I’ve also learned to make curry paste from scratch, as well as a whole bunch of other tasty things. Look out, Sunday Dinner crowd! And yes, Karen, you can eat most of it. No wheat or dairy in sight!

The bad news: my back is worse. I was supposed to be trekking yesterday, today and tomorrow, but I realized sometime Wednesday that there was no way I would be able to pull it off. It’s been really rainy here – today’s the first sunny day – and I could just see myself slipping and immobilizing myself, basically ruining the trip for everyone else. So instead, I’ve been reading, sleeping, getting Thai Massage (from blind therapists today – excellent!) and drinking with some locals and some travellers. I’ve even been invited to a wedding next week here in Chang Mai – Grant, who’s Scottish, is marrying a lovely Thai woman whose name I forget. Then, they’re moving back to Aberdeen. I’m thinking about coming back for the ceremony – depends on the weather in Lao and how my back is feeling.

So the rest of the plan is basically the same – I’ll hop on a bus on Sunday morning and head up to Chang Kung, then across to Lao on Monday morning. I’ll be in Luang Prabang by Tuesday noonish, and we’ll have to play it by ear from there.

In other news, I almost completely forgot about Thanksgiving. Thanks a bunch to those who sent me email and SMS, and I hope you all ate way too much turkey for me. I think I might go and have a pizza (it’s western, at least) to celebrate today.

We’re going to the brewery on Saturday night. I’m wondering whether a splitting hangover is going to make the bus ride better or worse…..