There's no place like Cambodia, there's no place like Cambodia.

Before we get onto Cambodia:

Pattaya . . . if you could combine your standard Asian red-light district (quite raunchy), the French Quarter of New Orleans, and the old strip in Vegas, then line it with an endless strip of sand and turquoise water, you’d have Pattaya. We spent four days there and were pleasantly surprised how enjoyable it was in spite of its infamy . . . long days on the beach combined with relaxed dinners and evenings were the perfect “breath of fresh air” before Cambodia.

The only story worth telling from Pattaya was our experience on the Ichuban. We had finished a dinner at one of the waterfront restaurants and decided to walk along the water, maybe find another place to grab a drink before calling it a night. We came to the pier at the south end of the strip and were approached by a sharply dressed local who was marketing his boat cruise restaurant, The Ichuban (high-end Japanese hibachi cooked cuisine), which happened to be docked at the moment. We explained that our bellies were full and politely declined. We continued down the pier . . . moment later, the same gentlamen came sprinting after us, repeating his kind request for business. Turns out, it was their opening night and things were pretty slow. Slow as in nobody had set foot onboard all night (seems marketing dropped the ball). Seeing as I’m vying to become the patron saint of boat cruise restaurants, we agreed to a quick drink much to Sophon’s delight. We were escorted to the boat’s bar, located on top deck. No sooner than we had a couple of cold drinks in hand, the engines kicked on and the boat pulled away from the pier. Megan and I shot a startled look at each other and immediately waved the cocktail waitress over and explained that we had just agreed to a quick drink. Sophon showed up and asked if we wouldn’t mind taking a short cruise, about 1 hour, around Pattaya Harbor. No problem. For the next 2 hours, they cruised us, and only us, around the harbor on this boat built for 50. They even had a guy playing a variety of half decent cover tunes for us. Their first tab fetched them around $8, maybe enough to cover a quarter of the diesel bill for the evening. But because, the entire staff and Sophon, who turned out to be the manager, were so damn nice, we decided to splurge and book a dinner for the following evening. At the end of the evening, they treated us to a limo ride back to the town center.

The dinner was exceptionally delicious and enjoyable, and once again, the boat was ours. Megan got to live out her grownup fairy-tale of going on a “Bachelorette” (one of her favorite shows) style date, just the 2 of us in a very romantic setting with the entire place and staff at our service along with a beautiful sunset. I got to eat obscene amounts and types of surf and turf. We both were happy.

Onto Cambodia:

A couple days later, we boarded a bus in Bangkok at 7:30 am for Arranya Prathet, located on the Thai/Cambodian border. We arrived at the border around noon. After stepping through the necessary Thai immigration procedures, we walked across the border into Poipet, into Cambodia. My first impression of the town and country was that it was hell on earth, the armpit of the world . . . picture your local garbage dump, with somewhat of a town erected in it, hot, dusty, children begging everywhere, people doing jobs that are reserved for livestock throughout the rest of Southeast Asia. We have both seen desperate people and filthy places, but never the combination at such a staggering level . . . well beyond humbling to a shocking, numbing level. Fortunately, we got through the Cambodian visa acquisition and immigration process and landed into a comfy share-taxi with a couple of strangers, a fellow American and an Englishman, in less than an hour. We both knew that if we had just made our way through a typical Cambodian town, it was going to be a short, extremely short, stay in Cambodia. The share-taxi, a well used Camry, fired off and we headed east, toward Siem Reap. Picture the most awful road you possibly can in your mind, a combination of dirt and pavement with continuous potholes, deep as they come . . . make it 120 miles long. Now, go bombing down it at 40 mph the whole way. 3 hours later, we got into Siem Reap around 4:30 pm with a couple of new friends, a bit shell shocked, but with smiles on our faces. Fortunately, Siem Reap looked like Paris in comparison to Poipet . . . . charming little town with many guesthouses, a nice city center, complete with a nice market and bar/restaurant area. The town looks this way because it has Angkor Wat in its backyard, along with dozens of other temple/city complexes. Siem Reap is to Southeast Asia what Rome is to Europe. The Khmer empire spread across the region between the 10th and 14th century . . . . time of wealth and power and relative peace. The temples are incredible, almost inconceivably large. We set the alarm for 4:30 a couple of mornings in order to watch the sunrise over Angkor Wat . . . it was amazing, peaceful, romantic, wonderful, beautiful. After several days and a couple of early mornings, our temple gas tank ran empty and we set off for Battambang, where we currently reside. Battambang is Cambodia’s second largest city, but it has the feel of a small town . . . wonderful walking streets and very quiet at night. Tomorrow, we’re off to Phnom Penh.

Although the quality of life seems much improved in Siem Reap, Battambang, and the villages in between in comparison with our brief glance at Poipet, things are still very humbling, not shocking, but humbling. There are lots of “street kids”, more in Siem Reap than elsewhere, who are forced to beg by their parents in order to feed the family. Those without parents work for a boss, much like Oliver Twist. The kids come at you aggressively, selling postcards, bracelets, anything for $1 . . . their English is very good. When we tell them we’re from America, they always say, “Capital: Washington DC” followed by a popular phrase like, “How’s it hanging mister?”. We help a few out with money, but we’ve started to give food instead as it seems more responsible, not rewarding some boss with cash. Really, there’s no solution . . . money, food, whatever, the kids are still hard up. The country is in shambles after years of war and genocide. The countryside is full of landmines (no casual hiking) and limbless people wander the street, having lost an arm or leg working the fields.

Battambang is a different, happier story . . . the town’s economy doesn’t revolve around tourism and is much healthier. The children are children.

In spite of the tough aspects, the country is quite amazing. We’ve met some terrific people . . . . spent the last handful of evenings with the Englishman from our share-taxi to Siem Reap, who kind of reminds me of Good Will Hunting, brilliant 18 year old kid, wise beyond his years. We’ve met another charming Dutch couple, who are also similarly aged ex-working types who we share a lot in common with. We’re now well versed in Cambodian cooking as we completed a class yesterday . . . . terrific instructor, bit of a smartass, which made it even more enjoyable.

We are happy, healthy, hydrated, and rested.

The joys of public transit . . .

Last time we left off, we were in tiny Soppong. From there, we caught the public bus back to Pai en route to our next destination, Chiang Mai. Many romantic travel tales have been written about the mysterious hilltribes, beautiful temples, and turquoise water of Thailand . . . but I’m telling you, if you want to truly get up to your eyeballs in culture, just jump on one of the local rattle-trap buses bouncing from town to town. It’s more culture than you can stomach for the minute price of $0.75. This particular bus, making the twisty trek between Soppong and Pai, was packed to the gills with people (all Thais) and whatever they happened to be transporting (crafts, food, etc . . . no animals this time) and was the traditional 45 minutes late. I’m not sure, but I think timeliness has been banned by royal decree, but more research is needed on this point. Anyways, Megan and I were forced to stand in the center aisle for the 75 minute ride as we were the last two on . . . which was actually quite a bit more comfortable than the seats with leg room suitable for the height-challenged locals. I was given the honor of standing especially close to the front door of the bus (ie on the steps down to the front door), which remained open throughout the ride.

Everything was progressing quite well until one of the small girls towards the very front of the bus got a bad spell of motion sickness . . . poor little thing lost the contents of her stomach into a plastic bag. Now, I think it’s fair to say that most people know that they should seal the contents of such a bag before haphazardly winging it out the side of the bus . . . . but in this case, I think it’s certain to say that the mother was unaware of this practice, and the bag went flying with no such precaution. Unfortunately, we were moving at a pretty good clip at this time, which meant that there was a pretty strong draft being pulled into the bus . . . . . especially at the doors, the largest open area to the environment. If you haven’t figured out where this is going . . . IT’S GOING ON ME!!!!! Fortunately, the girl’s diet consisted of mandarin oranges so the cleanup wasn’t that brutal. In fact, I thought it was just orange juice until my lovely and informative wife got me up to speed with the poor girl’s situation. I’m chalking the whole experience up as good preparation for fatherhood.

Eventually, we landed at the Banilah Guesthouse on the north end of Chiang Mai . . . my pronunciation of “Bahn-ih-law” resulted in a wee bit of confusion for the tuk tuk driver who took us to the Wai Lai Guesthouse. Fortunately, the “Bahn-ee-law” Guesthouse was just a couple of blocks away after a local got us squared away. The guesthouse was recommended by my buddy Somsak and turned out to be great. We were about a quarter mile from the Thanin Market, which had great grub at even greater prices and a terrific fruit and veggie market to boot. We saw only a couple of other tourists in the area the few days we spent in Chiang Mai and because we hit the market a couple times a day, the locals began to recognize us, giving enthusiastic hellos as we came and went, which was kind of fun.

Up to this point in the trip, my wife’s kind of been riding my ass a little bit about my unkempt hair . . . . I was beginning to sport the early Beatles do. I decided to get a trim to 1) shut her up and 2) help stay cool (but mostly to shut her up). We stopped in a salon a block from the market. I plopped in one of the chairs and one of the stylists dropped a stack of fashion magazines in my lap and signaled to pick my cut of choice from the style pics. I found a picture of a guy who I thought had the standard haircut I sport, short on the sides, finger-length up top. 30 minutes later, I exited the salon looking like Rod Stewart, minus the highlights. Hair was everywhere. We’ve all had one of those haircuts where you just smile and nod when they show you the mirror at the completion of the cut, when you’re really thinking “oh shit”. This was one of those cuts. The next day, I hit a nearby barber for some reconstructive work . . . he worked a small miracle in spite of the fact that he couldn’t speak a word of English, returning my hair to a tolerable state based on my caveman-like hand signals.

The rest of our time in Chiang Mai, we enjoyed the charming city, visited beautiful Doi Suthep (impressive hilltop temple), and a made some new friends. Our first new friend is Prawanchai, a local monk, who introduced himself on our sangtheouw (local taxi thing) ride down from the temple. We enjoyed his company for a while and exchanged e-mails at the end of our meeting . . . he’s an impressive guy, leading an education and HIV awareness program for over 5,000 local youths. Later, we met a nice couple from Holland on another sangtheouw ride whom we met for dinner and drinks that evening. It’s funny . . . we’re not meeting a lot of other “normal” people over here, go figure. It was nice to hang out with some other twentysomethings who were on the same wavelength as us. By the way, I'm assuming the two of us are "normal".

The only unfortunate aspect of our visit to northern Thailand was that it coincided with the areas worst spell of air pollution in 15 years . . . . Yeah!!! This time of year (warm, dry season), the locals are burning a lot of the fallen leaves and dead grass in the countryside in preparation for cultivation. Due to the extremely arid nature of this year’s dry season (hasn’t rained since October in the north) translating to increased burning and a stagnant high front which settled in the area a while back, the air sucks. We began to develop congested noses and sore throats our last couple of days in Chiang Mai, which led us to the decision to forego a trekking trip unfortunately . . . still plenty of good trekking opportunities though. Anyway, we decided to escape the smoky north for the fresh-aired south. Instead of heading to northern Laos, we headed back towards Bangkok in preparation for entry into Cambodia in a couple of days. The trip back to Bangkok blessed us with our first train experience in Thailand, which reaffirmed my whole royally mandated tardiness policy . . . train was about 3 hours late leaving Chiang Mai.

For the last couple of days, we’ve been hiding out, decongesting on Jomtien Beach, just south of the infamous Pattaya Beach (setting for many scandalous R&R stories of American troops during Vietnam). We’re going to lay low for a couple more days before heading back to Bangkok, then on to Cambodia on Friday for some incredible temples, bustling cities, and remote backcountry.

One more thing, we did get a camera in Chiang Mai . . . I promise to replace some of my texted rants with some pictures next update. Until then, we miss everybody and wish you well.

How much fish sauce you put in . . . .

. . . . . too salty!!!!! Rob: 1 tablespoon. Pugi: 1 tablespoon? Rob: Yes, 1 tablespoon. Pugi: My fault, my fault, my fault . . . get some palm sugar!!!

Well, we’ve completed our 2 day Thai cooking course. We found this crazy old Thai lady, Pugi (Pooh-gee), who teaches classes out of her home in Pai. We knocked out delicious curry after delicious stir fry after delicious satay . . . . all to great classic rock djed by her longtime German expat and equally crazy boyfriend, Stefan. It was a blast, and the results were surprisingly tasty . . . we ate and ate and ate. Pugi even had us over the day after our classes ended to finish up the leftovers for lunch. For me, the blue ribbon for best dish went to the khao sow, egg noodles in a spicy yellow curry. For Megan, it was the tom yum soup. Everything was good though. At the end Pugi looked at Megan and said, “You lucky, yo’ husband very good cook, he has very good understanding of flavor, and you, you so beautiful . . . I think to myself, Pugi, this woman is very beautiful when you first come to door. I don’t shweet talk every lady who cooks with me”.

Our other days in Pai, we spent in the hills and valleys outside town. The morning after our first biking adventures, our legs (and butts) were still up for some more pedaling. We popped open a local guide book and found a nice 15 mile round trip to Mhor Paeng Waterfall. The guidebook warned that it would be a difficult ride as it was uphill the entire way to the falls. In typical male fashion, I took the uphill bit as a quarter truth assuming that the author wasn’t much of a biker. Again, in typical male fashion, I was wrong. Some places it was just a gradual uphill grade. Other places it was alpe d’huez lung-busting steep. But uphill the entire way, it was. A guard at a traveler checkpoint on the road half way to the falls got a good laugh when he saw our bicycles and we told him our destination. Neverthless, we arrived at the falls (after ditching the bikes about a ½ mile short) in about an hour and a half. The falls were nothing spectacular, but the swim we enjoyed in them was.

Our final day in Pai, we ditched the bikes for a Honda Dream . . . . 125 cc of pure scooter muscle. We zipped around the countryside taking in much of the same scenery, snapping pics with a disposable camera (no miracles on the digital camera, and Pai doesn’t have a Best Buy). When I say zipped, understand that this means my wife has imposed a mental governor on the bike’s driver at 30 kph, or roughly 20 mph . . . . we get passed from time to time, but what’s the hurry.

Our final night in Pai, we hung out with some other American travelers at a local karaoke concert (~1000 people, ranging in all ages, mostly locals) in the playfield of a local school . . . . cheap beer and hilarious performances provided all the entertainment one could ask for.

On Sunday, we jumped on a bus for Soppong, a small market town about 30 miles further up the windy mountain road. Our primary reason for coming to Soppong was to visit the Tham Lod Caves. A small river runs underground for approximatetly 400 meters. Off this chamber, small caves give access to enormous caverns. You could fit the average college basketball arena in each of them, with the stalactites, mites, and other geological formations . . . . very impressive. A small, Shan (ethnic majority in this part of Thailand) lady led us through the monstrous caves with a lantern, pointing out various features saying, “looks like elephant, looks like monkey head, looks like popcorn” and so on, laughing hysterically with each reference. Between the second and third set of caves, we rode a narrow bamboo raft downstream . . . feeling very Indian Jones. After exiting the downstream side of the caves, we hung out at the large entrance to the cave awaiting dusk to be rewarded by tens of thousands of swallows heading into the darkness for the evening.

We’re still in Soppong . . . we’ve stayed a couple days extra to enjoy some small hikes in the area and the comfort of our own private resort (being about a month past high season, we are the only people at our guesthouse . . . we can pretend we’ve got a personal chef and driver along with the beautiful grounds and pool). We’re staying in the “Jasmine Room” (http://www.littleeden-guesthouse.com/accommodation.html).

Tomorrow, we’re going to brave the steep and windy roads via minibus back to Chiang Mai where we’ll 1) buy a new digital camera and 2) arrange for a 3 day guided trek through the mountains. After that, we’re off to northern Laos.

All is well

5,000 Baht Reward - Missing Camera!!!

Let’s get the “bad” out of the way. A small tragedy has struck . . . I’ve lost our digital camera somewhere between the Pai minibus dropoff and Breeze of Pai Guest House. I’m offering a 5,000 Baht reward (~$150 US) for the safe return of the camera. Needless to say, I’m quite pissed off at myself as I don’t believe the camera was stolen, simply lost. I think it fell out of my backpack or I left it on the minibus . . . either way, I’m a complete (fill in the blank). Hopefully, my reward, which I communicated to the minibus company, will result in the miraculous return of the camera. I'm not betting on it.

Enough already, let’s get on with the “good”. Where did I last leave off? Let’s see. We spent 5 days on Phuket (pronounced Poo-ket, thanks for the inquiry) doing just about nothing. We both got a little too much sun on the nose and cheeks, but if that’s the biggest problem we’ve got, life is good. We took a small break from the beach on Friday to go to the Johnnie Walker Classic golf tournament, held at Blue Canyon Country Club on the north end of the island. This was not in the plans, but we saw the tournament happened to coincide with our visit to the island . . . . we were watching a little bit of the first round coverage on TV Thursday evening, and I noticed that there was damn near nobody there. Guys like Ernie Els, Adam Scott, and Colin Montgomerie were playing with a handful of people following them. Anyways, we headed up to the course Friday morning, bought a couple 300 baht tickets (~$17 total) and watched a little golf. We saw Montgomerie and Scott finish on 18. Shortly after, Ernie Els made his way to the putting green to warm up a bit. On his way back to the clubhouse, he checked my wife out. No kidding . . . the polite smile he was giving to most spectators turned into an even bigger smile and prolonged gaze when he saw Megan. Not cool Ernie!!!! Alas, Megan consoled me, reaffirming that she was not attracted to bujillionare professional golfers. Unemployed engineers are her type. Moving on, we followed Mike Weir and Retief Goosen through the front 9. Afterwards, we jumped ahead to 12 to watch Els and Craig Parry through 17, then we dropped back to watch Weir and Goosen finish. If you’re into golf, it was a very cool experience. Goosen is my new personal composure mentor. That guy’s the coolest cucumber alive, never phased by a thing.

Enough beach/golf talk. Next we caught back to back 12 hour bus rides from Phuket to Bangkok, Bangkok to Chiang Mai setting the Guiness World Record for longest continuous self-inflicted bus journey in history. Once again, not that bad . . . lots of reading and games of gin passed the time nicely. We laid over in Chiang Mai Sunday night, then caught what seemed to be an incredibly short 4 hour bus ride to Pai.

Pai is something else . . . a small farming village (population 3000) about 100 km east of the Burmese border, situated in a beautiful river valley, surrounded by forested hills. It’s the stuff postcards are made of (we’ll definitely get pictures even if we have to buy a new camera before leaving). We’re staying in a little guesthouse on the bank of the river, Breeze of Pai, simple place with very friendly staff. Today, we rented some bicycles and did a 12 mile loop around the valley . . . highlights include the 1) Pai Canyon, where I got to enjoy watching my wife clamber up and down steep, narrow trails, 2) a WWII memorial bridge over the river, the bridge was constructed by POWs and local villagers under Japanese oversight, 3) some hot springs, which reminded me of Hot Springs, 4) some elephant camps, which we’ll organize an elephant jungle ride sometime during the next week, and 5) a Buddhist temple on a hill, 365 steps up to be precise, overlooking the valley and town, very pretty spot.

Let’s see . . . . moving ahead, the plan is to stick around here for at least another week. There’s more than enough to do (Thai cooking classes, hiking, and plenty more of exploration on the bike).