goodbye Lao, hello Cambodia

The Mekong is a big river (my guidebook says it's the 10th largest in the world by volume). A big muddy river. Up in northern Lao where I met up with it, it carries so much silt that it no longer resembles water; it is brown and opaque. It only takes a couple boat trips on the Mekong before it starts to sink in that I'm in a totally different place now (I can barely remember where Kansas is, let alone have any illusions about being there). Whole families bathing in the river, fisherman on long boats throwing nets at dusk, small farms pushing right to the edge of the riverbank, waiting for the rains to flood their fields. And of course, the unkempt jungle in between.

Clearly, there needed to be some trekking into the jungle. I (and a mate) hired a local guide to lead us into the mountains and jungle of northern Lao. After clambering (on all fours, at times) over three mountains and fifteen miles into the jungle (and a couple swims in some fantastic mountain waterfalls), we finally stopped for a few days at a hill-tribe village. Bamboo huts on stilts with thatched roofs. Pigs and chickens and goats and the odd buffalo wandering about (get yer organic free-range right here). There was no electricity, and no running water in any usual sense of the term. It's remarkable when you find yourself without such ubiquitous things, sometimes you realize how much you really don't miss them. Going to sleep when it gets dark, and waking with the light seems so intuitive. Writing journal entries by candlelight has some kind of romantic charm. (Prehistoric charm, but charm nonetheless.)

Also, mosquito nets = awesome.

Of course, in the spirit of things, I had to try some of the villagers' daily chores, which generally involved watching someone do a chore for a bit, and then seeing if I could have a go at it whilst the villagers chatted and giggled amongst themselves at the antics of the silly inept foreigner. Interestingly enough, they didn't stop me from manhandling the construction of the grass broom or even the weaving of the thatch roof (I suspect those holes weren't actually supposed to be part of it, though they *will* think of me during the rainy season); they just seemed to offer up new fun tasks for additional comedic performances. Let me share with you this: it is very very fun to hack around in the jungle with a machete. It's also remarkably easy to chop your own leg off. Forget shooting yourself in the foot, machetes are where it's at for serious self-mutilation. I managed to emerge unscathed, save for some new and interesting blisters, but I hope they don't starve next winter because we botched up their teak field too miserably.

Over the past month (I don't know, has it been a month? I'm not really sure what day it is), I have ambled my way south along the Mekong through Lao; it is a gorgeous gorgeous country. Not a few days have been spent lazily reclining in a hammock, gazing at the picturesque river framed by giant karsts, and reading a book to the sounds of the gurgling water. I do find that I miss the ocean, after having spent so long in such close proximity. But it's not long now, as soon I'll be heading for Vietnam's expansive coastline on the South China Sea. But first, the Temples of Angkor await.

I've just crossed the border into Cambodia, and find myself in a small border town on the Mekong. The last five or so miles on the Lao side of the border is a dusty dirt road in various states of [de]construction. The three foot dips in the road were, well, entertaining; I'm glad my pack didn't fall off the roof. Lao immigration consisted of a small wooden hut on the side of the road with three guys inside. Not even a weak attempt at a gate or anything, though I'm sure they probably had automatic weapons in that hut, and that is gate enough for me. A bribe, a stamp, and it's a sweaty hike further down the dirt road through no man's land. About a hundred meters later, the Cambodian side of the border appears, which, funny enough, is a wooden hut with three guys inside. (I shouldn't be unfair: the Cambodian hut *was* on the opposite side of the road.) A couple more bribes, a sticker, a stamp, and I'm safely(?) in Cambodia, which has a phenomenal likeness to the dirt road in Lao. A little further on an exciting mix of dirt and paved roads, and voila! Civilization! Well, at least it has electricity, if not flush toilets. But hey, hopefully tomorrow night I'll be in Siem Reap, just a hike away from Angkor Wat, one of the seven or eight wonders of something or other.

I miss you all, and hope you are well. I do wonder now and then what it would be like to return to the States, to return home. How severe would the culture shock really be? Or would I just easily fall back into old patterns? Well, until we meet again, at least know that I think of you often.

New Years

It's 88 degrees, and there's a sunset happening right now that you only see in surrealist paintings. I went diving today in the big blue and hung out with some sea turtles, who were very chill.

Since last report, I've finished my scuba instructor training, and I've been backpacking around Thailand for a couple weeks. One highlight was a beach in the southwest on the penninsula that's reachable only by long-tail boat. You get into this little port town and then board this dodgy boat with a long propeller attached to the outboard motor and ride for an hour over open ocean to arrive at a pristine white sand beach, encircled by towering, impassable limestone cliffs. There are no motor vehicles of kind (see: impassable cliffs), just some bungalows dotting the beach. The water is a beautiful emerald hue, and when you're floating in the sea, looking up at the sunset framed by the gorgeous, sky scraping cliffs, it's pretty frickin zen. I'm fairly sure if you look it up, it's the definition of Getting Away From It All.

I hope you all are well, and wish you a proper happy new year (it'll be the year 2551 by the Thai calendar), and I yearn only that I could be with each and every one of you to roll it over. It'll still be mid-morning or barely afternoon for most of you when it turns the big 8 here, but I'll hoist one for you even if I'm splashing around in the salt water (which I feel would be a superb way to welcome the new one).

In several days, I'll be off to backpack [more] around southeast Asia (Lao, Cambodia, and Vietnam next) for a few months, so comms will be even more scarce than they have been. I will post from the road when possible (though I suspect mountain villages with no running water are unlikely to have much internet).

I miss you all, and send you all the best.

Happy New Years.

PS. Next year, for xmas, I want a pet squirrel. Yes, they exist. And yes, they are actually as awesome as they sound.

mini teenie quickie

There is a tradition in diving that for your 100th dive, you go naked. Well, I've known several people to hit their hundredth, but no one I know has actually pulled off the naked dive (often it's a silly costume or a wig or some such). Excuses usually run along the "There's customers on the boat" or "The water's cold." Bollocks, really. Obviously, I, being the tradition-follower I am, decided it was my responsibility to uphold this venerable practice and set a positive example for others. In consideration of the customers on board the boat that day, I unleashed my glory at depth (taking off my shorts with fins on was somewhat challenging), and regained my modesty before surfacing (putting on my shorts with fins on was extremely frickin challenging). The water was a bit chilly, but nothing unmanageable, and my dive buddy made some disparaging remarks about being blinded by my pale ass. Overall, a good time. Which may have to be repeated.

To mark the recent completion of all my pre-divemaster courses, I have once again gone platinum blond. Obviously, this has nothing to do with aesthetic appearance (yeah, right), but rather a favor to all those divers I may soon lead. They'll definitely have no trouble picking me out of a crowd now, eh? The looks I get from all the Thais are so worth the price of admission. "Wait, he's not Thai, wtf?!?" Damn tootin', I'm not Thai; whassup NYC!

In closing, a lesson for life. Swimming in the bath-warm ocean at night is wonderful. Mobile phones, however, do not enjoy swimming in salty water nearly as much as humans do. They tend to get unpleasantly (and non-functionally) crusty. Alas, another casualty of a careening drunken night. Au revoir phone, you served me well. My new phone has Thai letters above the English ones on each of the number keys. It's nuts!

Say hi to America for me, with heaping, steaming, non-crusty piles of love.

knee deep and rising

I can see the ocean from my room. Heck, I can see the ocean from my bed. When it's sunny, the water is blue and clear and you can see little tiny islands miles away. I wake up in the morning and look out and think, "Today, I'm going to cruise out to *that* one and see what's *underneath*." When it's overcast, the ocean's sort of green and dismal, but hey, it's still the ocean and some damn fun to play in.

The food is delicious. I've been eating gorgeous Thai food every meal for less than $3 a pop. That's drinks and everything. I've tried scorpions ($.45) and grasshoppers ($.30 for a bag). I have not yet consumed anything that I couldn't identify, except for this weird deep-fried miniature frog thing. But I'm calling it a frog, so there, identified. Grasshoppers taste better than scorpions, which, to be honest, are a little too bitter for me. Noodle soups, curries, it's all just so irresistably good. In fact, after I finish writing this, I'm gonna go get some. And maybe a beer ($.90).

Muay Thai (Thai kickboxing) is serious. There's a bar here where they have nightly matches, and they do not mess around. I saw a guy get kicked in the head so hard, he was fully horizontal before gravity had a chance to take over and he started dropping to the mat. Ong Bak in real technicolor life. And before you even ask, no, I am not going to take lessons. That shit is way too hardcore here. They have whole new levels of violence that we don't have words for in English. I'll stick to playing with fishies. Speaking of fishies...

The diving is fun and challenging. I've done a crapload of courses since I've been here; some have kicked my ass and made me feel like a superhero at the same time. I just earned my Master Scuba Diver rating; I am fully qualified to search for and rescue you if you're unconscious at the bottom of the sea. Lifeguards? Heh, wusses. Try finding a lost diver in the middle of the ocean (it's a big place), bringing them up from 40 meters (that's the same height/depth as a thirteen floor building) without getting bent (ouch), and towing them and their fifty pounds of gear back to the boat in three foot choppy waves. I, as rescuer, am at no point allowed to drown. Oh yeah, let's not forget the CPR and first aid and 100% pure oxygen (can you say fire hazard? on a boat?) and defribrillators (large amounts of electricity are exactly what we need near the pure oxygen. "No, it's okay ma'am, I'm a trained professional") once back on board. See what I mean about having a course work me over while still feeling like Batman? Nice. I've got a wreck course tomorrow to get wreck penetration certification. And then I'll be able to save you if you're lost at the bottom of the ocean, unconscious, and *inside* a frickin sunken pirate ship (yes, only pirate ships :) ). All in all, I think it would not be a reach to say things have been fairly sweet so far.

It's not all hugs and puppies though. Other than the 90 degree F water temperature at depth (imagine the air temp if the water is 90 degs), the diving conditions here are probably the worst I've even seen: low visibility and crazy, unpredictable currents. Sometimes you'll be swimming along happily when an underwater sand storm comes out of nowhere, engulfs you, and tries it's very best to introduce you to Davy Jones. On the flip side, I feel like it's the perfect training ground, since I'm getting to be a seriously ninja diver. Hiyaa! Take that, foul sand storm! You'll never defeat me and my trusty utility belt! Now where did I put that Bat-shark-repellent?

The wildlife is vivid and completely different than the western hemisphere. I've seen a dozen types of coral I've never seen before, and countless new fish and sea animals. Like clownfish living in sea anemones. I found Nemo! So cute! They play with you like "What is this weird thing blowing bubbles? I should investigate!" Even the land flora and fauna are different. There are trees, yes, trees, that are totally different. I've been to North, Central, and South America, and I ain't never seen trees like this. I am fully convinced that this is awesome.

So, overall, life is pretty good. I like to say that any day out on the ocean is a good day. Diving, swimming, cloudy, choppy, sunny, whatever. Any day on the ocean is a good day. Lately, I've been having a lot of good days.

I miss you all like I'd miss my own damn limbs.

first post

In retrospect, the 18 hour flight over was far more palatable than those six hour transcontinental suckers. Perhaps it was the all-you-can-eat Thai food, the all-you-can-drink beverages, the several dozen on-demand movies, or maybe it was that upgrade I sprang for that let my seat recline almost all the way. Or maybe it was the quiet resignation that I was going to be on that damn plane all day and there was nothing I could do about it. Regardless, kapowie, I'm here.

It's hot. And humid. About the same as a bad day in NYC, I think, but I haven't bothered figuring out the frickin metric yet, so I don't really know what actual the temperature is. (Yeah, yeah, I know. x*9/5+32. But I've got better things to do, dig?)

Pattaya, it turns out is the second largest city in Thailand. They're not kidding. There's a street here that's like Bourbon Street times one million, if you trade the drunk frat boys for Thais and Europeans. People keep warning me that I'm going to be shocked, but I try to explain that I'm from New York and that it's crazy there too, except for it not being filled with Thai people. They don't quite get it.

The diving is, well, a learning experience. I've only been out two days so far. Day One: Three meter waves on the ocean on the way out to the dive site. I almost went over the side. Very exciting indeed. Good thing I am pretty much Anti-SeaSick Man. Day Two: First dive involved less than one meter visibility. That means when you look down, you can barely see your feet. Luckily, I left my compass on the boat, so navigation was a little tricky. Lots of hot stay-close-to-the-fins-of-the-guy-in-front-of-me action. I managed to avoid getting impaled by any of the kabillions of huge, beautiful sea urchins they've got here (colors! the sea urchins here have colors!), probably due to my awesome ninja skillz. Then, same day, second dive, gorgeous clear water, and spotted a two meter long sea turtle free swimming. Two meters long! Biggest one I've ever seen. Nice.

The shop's filled with characters, as is par for the course with dive shops. Lot's of Brits, a couple Yanks, and a smattering of random other countries (Turkey? Kuwait?). The one major thing everyone has in common is they all drink like superheroes. Oh, and they dive sometimes too. Too soon to see if there's any keepers in the lot.

The battery on this computer I hijacked is about to kick, and I have to study for my Hunt For Buried Treasure course (seriously), so it's time to sign off.

Stay well, keep out of too much trouble, and damnit, miss me a bit, will you?