Adventures of My (less than) Fashionable Farang Footwear

I've been conducting an informal cultural psychology experiment during my last few weeks in Thailand and Laos. My fractured right foot injury (from my time on the farm in Greece) has not fully healed and as a result, I find myself helplessly mismatched with one foot wearing a havaianas brown flip flop and the other sporting a boxy velcro-encased black surgical shoe, which is fondly referred to by my fellow traveling companions as the boot.

The boot is generally pretty easy-going and adaptable to a variety of environments. In Thailand, I have ridden the sky train of Bangkok, walked the dusty streets of Chiang Rai, and bent down to remove the boot before entering the golden temples. Despite parading the boot proudly, the Thais try to seem as though they do not notice the strange appearance of my less than fashionable farang footwear. If a Thai family turns in my direction at the scratchy sound of the boot's velcro straps being peeled apart at the steps of a venerable temple, they quickly avert their eyes and pretend nothing is out of the ordinary. No one asks me what happened to my foot. No one laughs or giggles into their cupped palms. The Thais accept that whatever has caused me to wear this shoe is a private matter that should not receive recognition nor should it illicit conversation.

I immediately noticed a difference in Lao. Upon arrival at our first guesthouse in Luang Prabang, one younger woman and her friend sitting at the computers in the lobby were chuckling and looking down at my foot. She tapped me on the shoulder, "Excuse me, madam. Why you wear different shoes?" I explained that I broke my foot and motioned with my two fists that I was cracking a stick in half. Her eyes widened and she smiled. "Very good, Miss," was the only reply she offered as she turned back toward the computer screen.

The chlidren of Luang Prabang also were much more obviosuly curious about the boot. A group of young monks stared at my foot at the summit of Mount Phousi one morning, probably wondering how I climbed the 328 steps up the mountain in such strange shoes. As I passed by the Childen's Cultural Center of Luang Prabang, kids call out as I walk by in the boot. One little boy stuffing curly noodles into his mouth looked quite alarmed. Another boy jumps up and down like a sugar-high monkey pointing at my foot. They don't mean to tease me, they just don't see a reason to contain their outbursts. I look back at them, flashing a confident smile their way. "It's okay!" I call out, "Don't worry!"

In Lao there is a popular phrase, Bo pen ngiang, which translated means something like, "it doesn't matter." Although it is sometimes interpreted to have fatalistic undertones, in my opinion this phrase embodies the freedom that Lao culture and its social norms afford its people. If a Lao child notices something, he or she is encouraged to point it out. Curiousity is the predecessor to revelations. Many shop owners or Lao students will approach me with questions about America, in the hope of practicing their English.

Whereas in Thailand, there is often a sense of societal restraint based on the concept of not losing face, in Lao, it seems as though people are more concerned with not losing a single opportunity to observe and learn. Perhaps this will change in the coming influence as Western influence continues to enter small charming towns like Luang Prabang, but for now there is something very refreshing about the curious appetite of the Lao people.

I hope to return to Lao again someday soon to have more conversations and learn more from its people. 

After all, this boot was made for walking, and that's just what it'll do.

Good Morning, Luang Prabang!

Lately the LOTUS travelers have been lagging a little in updating our blog - but for very good reason. We're falling head over heels in love - with Luang Prabang, that is. For the last four days, we've been sleeping, eating, reading, sightseeing and exploring Luang Prabang - the northern gem of Laos. Trying to soak in as much of LP as possible, we've discovered the wonder of waking up early (who knew?!) and leisurely savouring the city.

On our first morning in LP, the three of us awoke after a slightly cramped, though comfortable, night's sleep at the ThanaBoun guesthouse. (Our room being a last minute booking from the previous afternoon, the only free space they could offer us was one double bed for the three of us.) I woke up especially early that morning, eager to start my mission - to find the best croissant in Luang Prabang. In fact, I woke up about three times during the night with visions of buttery, flaky croissants dancing in my head. I remember the croissants in Luang Prabang being so tasty, I honestly could not recall eating any other food I had when I was here two years ago. So, by 7:30 am, I couldn't stand it anymore so I gingerly crawled out of bed to commence my gustatory adventure.

We began at the 3 Nagas hotel/restaurant which serves breakfast in its outdoor cafe. Though the $2.20 price tag for their homemade jam put us off a bit, we ordered it anyway with our three croissants. And oh MAN, were these croissants. None of that airy, dry, Bisquicked, crescent-shaped crap they call croissants in America. This was the real deal - a crisp, flaky golden shell encasing soft, warm layers of densely buttered chewy dough. With the homemade blackberry jam and marmalade - it was perfect. The pot of Lao coffee I got with breakfast had enough caffeine to shake my bones until dinnertime. All in all, a great start for my exploratory study of the Luang Prabang puff pastries.
Next on our agenda for the morning was booking plane tickets back to Chiang Mai and finding another, hopefully cheaper, guesthouse than the ThanaBoun. Naturally, we got lucky finding a room at the Croissant d'Or guesthouse and restaurant. What better place to sleep than in a place called the Golden Croissant? Located down Sisavavong Rd., it was about 50,000 kip (about 8,700 kip = 1 dollar) cheaper and had super soft beds. Plus, there was free Internet. Next, we booked tickets back to Chiang Mai with a very sweet and helpful agent nicknamed Ms. Ice. Unfortunately, we discovered that Lao airlines is very finicky and did not offer flights on Wednesday, June 25th, when we were hoping to go back to Chiang Mai. So, we could only book a flight out on June 26th and stay another day in Luang Prabang. Oh shucks, so disappointing.

Our second morning, we woke up extra early to catch a glimpse of the monks collecting alms on the main road. By the time we had actually gotten out of bed and gotten dressed (6:05 am), we had already missed it. None of us were feeling sleepy any longer so we all went on little walks. Amber climbed up Mt. Phousi to see the morning sun creep above Luang Prabang. Erin caught up with her journal in the Croissant d'Or coffeeshop. I found Big Brother Mouse - an organization/library with a mission to get more Lao/English books to Lao kids. We then reconvened for breakfast at Le Cafe et Restaurant Ban Vat Sene. 
Le Cafe et Restaurant Ban Vat Sene is located across the street from the Luang Prabang School and La Salle Francophone. We had passed it walking around Sisavavong Rd. many times but had not yet had a chance to try their food. So, this morning, Amber and I each ordered one of the two different types of pain perdu they offered - pain perdu a la vanille and pain perdu aux deux compotes (mulberry and pineapple). The vanilla pain perdu came lightly dusted with raw sugar while the other was drizzled with a sweet, slightly tangy compote with chunks of papaya, pineapple and mulberry. The bread was so soft and absolutely melted on the tongue - the consistency more like bread pudding than French toast. After she took the first bite into her mouth, Amber looked up at me with wide eyes and said, "I'm in heaven. It's like I'm an angel. I'm an angel and I'm eating clouds". It was love at first bite. Nous etions perdu dans nos pains perdus.
After another unforgettable breakfast, we were grateful we had woken up early. It was only 9:30 am so we had tons of time to figure out what we wanted to do for the day. I dropped off my dirty laundry at a place nearby that charges 10,000 kip per kilo and gets it back to you in four hours. I think the Korean laundromats in the states need to take a cue from their Lao counterparts. Then we organised a tuk tuk to take us to the Thad Sae waterfalls. 
This morning, once again, we woke up ultra early tosee the procession of monks make their alms collecting rounds throughout the heart of LP. This time, we made it - literally jumping out of bed, into proper clothes, and out the door. Just down the street, we could make out a line of orange robes stretching down the street - each monk only stopping briefly to allow alms-givers to place their offering in the monk's bowl. Many LP citizens were sitting on the sidewalk to give their daily offering - heads bowed and generous hands outstretched with bags of curries, sticky rice and sweets. There was another kind of people present in the morning ritual that ruined the serenity - tourist photogs clicking away, trying to capture this component of Lao culture. More on this later, I think this entry is getting quite long enough. The alms rounds only took about ten minutes (much shorter than last time I was here - which took about 40 minutes) so, I sat in the early bird Cafe des Arts with a delicious cappucino in hand - wondering where to get my next croissant fix.

Flexibility in World Traveling

On Tuesday, the LOTUS gang left the quiet and pleasantly surprising serene city of Chiang Rai for an ever more calm destination known as Mae Sai, a border town between Thailand and Myanmar. Before we arrived, we endured a bus ride that reminded me of an entry I once read in the Guinness Book of World Records. In this article, a group of friends banded together to break the existing record for the number of people that had been crammed into a Volkswagen Beetle, or "Bug." Although our bus was a lot larger than a "Bug," this only meant that more people could be squeezed onto it. With each new person that hopped on at the designated roadway stops, I imagined a huge air balloon that was at maximum capacity - just waiting to pop. At one point, a woman was practically sitting in my lap because there was barely any room to stand, let alone sit, on the bus. Just when it seemed we were packed to the brim, a family of three jumped on and nestled their way in between Amber and the window - a space that was already cramped with two huge cardboard boxes that forced one man to choose another seat so he would still have his legs at the end of the journey. I snickered to myself as I witnessed Amber's reaction to this incredibly flexible family, who actually managed to twist their bodies into the small space. I was incredibly lucky to have chosen the seat closest to the back door - 

probably the only seat that received any fresh air whatsoever.

After the bus ride, we dragged our luggage onto a song tao and departed for our meeting with members of an organization entitled Development and Education Programme for Daughters and Communities - DEPDC for short. As soon as we entered DEPDC's Mae Sai branch, I became captivated by the young children who ran around the center with huge playful smiles on their faces. We were warmly welcomed and received many adorable, "sawadee ka" greetings from cute little girls.

We learned more about DEPDC and its various programs which target children who are at risk of being sex trafficked - offering them a safe shelter, education, healthy meals, vocational/life skills training and more. We enjoyed walking around the center, visiting classrooms and open spaces which were filled with children playing soccer, jumping over ropes, and laughing to each other.

We met volunteers at DEPDC who offered to transport us back into town - a relief since we were worried about finding a song tao in the remote location and envisioned an interesting walk back to town with all of our luggage. Amber and I thought we were so smart to share a suitcase - which is massive and I have to sit on every morning to close- but realized about halfway through the trip that perhaps backpacks would have been the better option. We threw our huge bags into the van, and happily joined the DEPDC volunteers for lunch. Laura, a volunteer from Canada, escorted us to our guest house when we were finished eating, pointing out the best places to eat (and which ones to avoid) as well as the main shopping street.

After checking in, Amber and I headed out for some exploring and shopping, while Sara headed to the internet cafe to write emails and research future traveling plans. We walked up the main street and found countless elephants carvings made from jade (my obsessive compulsive disorder kicked in and I had to compare prices of elephants at every stall - not the fondest memory), stunning jewelry (stay away from the light!), handmade tapestries in every size and color from Myanmar and loads of other goodies which held our attention throughout the afternoon. I purchased a jade earring and necklace set, two jade elephants, and a tapestry which Amber labeled "too glitzy" - but I found just riiiight. The tapestry purchase was a nerve racking ordeal, in which four shop workers surrounded me, throwing different colored hangings in my direction saying, "good deal, good deal." I usually crack under such pressure, but stood my ground and searched through the wide assortment of tapestries until I found one that spoke to me. After what seemed like another hour of bargaining I walked out of the shop, tapestry in hand and vision of it hanging in my future house. Amber forewarned me about buying the tapestry, reminding me of the limited space we had in our suitcase. I only realized later just how obnoxious it is to carry that thing from city to city. Next stop: Luang Prabang, Laos. At least my tapestry is seeing the world..

Power to the Panties! Panty is Democracy!

These phrases, among many others, were scrawled on the walls of the Can Do bar we visited last night. The Can Do Bar is one of a kind - the first entertainment, or "expertainment", venue owned and operated by commercial sex workers. Located on Chiang Mai Land Rd., the bar also houses the EMPOWER foundation's Chiang Mai office. To learn more about EMPOWER and it's "bad girls", check out: http://www.empowerfoundation.org/. Basically it is an organization working to promote the health and human rights of commercial sex workers in Thailand. EMPOWER's message is that commercial sex workers don't need to be victimized, moralized or pitied, thank you very much. What they really deserve are equal rights and opportunities, just like everyone else.

We first encountered EMPOWER when we were back in Charlottesville, contacting organizations we wanted to meet with as part of our research. We received a reply from EMPOWER's office in Bangkok that bluntly asked us why we wanted to come all the way to Thailand to research the commercial sex industry and it's constituents. Their response was roughly along the lines of, "You have a commercial sex industry in America too, you know. Human trafficking is a problem in America too, you know". This email put us in our place - rightly so. Why were we so keen to study problems in other parts of the world, and not our own? What was so captivating about the "bongo bongo" and why did we think we could even begin to help solve their society's shortcomings? Well, we didn't have the answers to these questions (we still don't), but we did know that we definitely had to visit EMPOWER.

So, a 60 baht tuk-tuk ride from Chiang Mai's inner city brought us to the Can Do Bar. Difficult to spot among the karaoke bars with flashing neon signs, we finally spotted the place. After being graciously ushered inside, we were informed that there would be a drama show that night. We soon learned that a Thai health organization of some sort would be visiting the bar also, to see this drama about the occupational hazards in the Thai commercial sex industry. Within minutes of getting our drinks, the folks from the organization trickled in, eventually filling the first floor to full capacity. While eagerly awaiting the show, we met an Australian woman who was volunteering with EMPOWER for six months. Four months into her stay, she had a lot to share with us about working with EMPOWER, EMPOWER's activities and the situation for commercial sex workers in Australia.

Soon the drama started. Two women dressed in air hostess outfits re-enacted the safety procedures for passengers on airplanes, but a la the Thai commercial sex industry. One example was the special suit a commercial sex worker (CSW)should wear in the case of emergencies. The suit was a hot pink bikini, tied around the neck, with a whistle attached for emergencies. There were also ten-inch platform boots involved. The show garnered much applause and even more laughs.

Afterwards, everyone got a tour of the upper floors of the bar. These floors had classrooms for teaching English and Thai, health awareness or computer classes. EMPOWER also teaches women from minority communities (such as Burmese ethnic communities, northern hill tribes, Lao migrants, etc.) their basic human rights, applicable everywhere even if they are living or working illegally in Thailand. There was a mannequin dressed in a skirt made of condoms. Posters covered the walls, listing the assumptions people make if you're a commercial sex worker or even just a woman. There are also a few two-foot tall papier-mache dolls standing around the room.

These dolls were made by migrants as part of the recent "Labour Sans Frontieres" project EMPOWER started in 2004. Migrants made these dolls to represent their dreams to travel freely, which many cannot actualise due to Thai labour laws and fears of being deported or detained in an International Detention Centre. So instead, these dolls are able to move for these migrant sex workers - around Thailand, around Southeast Asia, and around the world - until they can.

After our tour, we chatted for a bit with our new Australian friend. We discussed how commercial sex workers are treated around the world, but particularly in Thailand. We were told that EMPOWER's well, powerful stance on sex worker's rights is necessary because so often are sex workers weakened, victimised, demoralised or scrutinised by media, researchers, government officials, public health agencies, and many more. Outsiders tend to think that these poor women were "economically coerced" into shamefully selling their bodies because they had nothing else to sell. But this volunteer, a former sex worker herself, said, "Well, isn't everyone economically coerced into their job?" I suggested that EMPOWER should organize media workshops with local journalists so that the media may discuss the commercial sex industry with more sensitivity.
Because we had to get up early the next morning, we decided to call it a night at around 11 pm. We were glad to have met all the wonderful, friendly and fantastic women at the Can Do Bar. The night was certainly an eye-opener and helped us get a better understanding of the multiple dimensions within the Thai commercial sex industry.

The next morning, we went to a different sort of awareness-raising activity at the Chiang Mai University. Sunday was designated as a "Day of Mindfulness", organized by the Green Papaya Sangha and Thais following in the tradition of Venerable Thich Nhat Hanh. Venerable Thay and many fellow Plum village monks and nuns were in Chiang Mai last summer to lead a week-long retreat. This was a sort of mini-reunion to remember his teachings and get a chance to raise our own spiritual awareness.

A group of about 20 of us sat underneath an open-air pagoda at the Sala Dham on campus. We started with a few deep breaths and calling of the bells (it's a Thich Nhat Hanh thing) before starting to meditate more seriously. A participating couple had decided to bring their two young sons with them. They kept making a lot of distracting noises which at first I found really annoying. But then, I knew that Thich Nhat Hanh would tell me to think of their high-pitched calls for Mommy as "bells of mindfulness". And so instead, I began to listen to the sound of the first day's rain, softly falling all around us. After the first sitting meditation session, we listened to a dhamma teaching on Enlightenment by Venerable Thay. Then - it was mindful lunch time!

Mindful eating means that we are fully aware of what and how we are eating. Are we eating foods that directly are relating to the suffering of other sentient beings (thanks, Karen Lang!)? Are we aware that we are eating - or just chewing mindlessly as we watch the television? How does the food breakdown in your mouth - can you feel the morsels moving across your tongue and under your teeth? Needless to say, it can take a good 3-4 minutes to finish chewing and swallowing one bite of khao pad. But boy, you sure do enjoy that one bite!

Unfortunately we had to leave the event early since we had to catch a bus to Chiang Rai. But all in all, it was certainly an enlightening weekend, in more ways than one. I was inspired to re-start my mindfulness meditation practice on the 3-hr. bus ride, also because I left my iPod in Bangkok. However, it soon became difficult to concentrate because the bus stewardess popped in the most horrible French pirate movie I have ever seen (not that I've seen many French pirate movies - nor, now, do I plan to) - dubbed in Thai, mind you. It was so bad in fact, that I could not not watch it. But soon, it was over and I was able to enjoy the rest of the ride. I tried to return to my meditation practice as I watched the beautiful misty mountains pass by. The scenery was so hypnotically gorgeous that I fell asleep, dreamily drooling on my neighbour.

When It Comes to Curry, Green Means Go!

Cooking is a messy art. Although there are many famous family recipes with exact quantities and combinations of ingredients, I believe you have to have a sense of creativity and the courage to take risks to be a real master chef. That's why I'm always happy to be the cook if someone else wants to clean up after the meal!

This past Saturday, we took a Thai cooking course at a local organic farm in Chiang Mai. Along with six other eager students (comprised of three European couples), we visited a local market to gather the necessary ingredients and then spent some time wandering the garden of the organic farm, sniffing various spicy herbs and sour fruit rinds until the insides of our noses felt raw. After becoming acquainted with our own personal cooking station, the class began. Our teacher was a tiny little Thai woman named Sue who could slice scallions and pound peanuts with a speed that suggested she was quite experienced in Thai culinary arts (and maybe quite hungry as well).

Our first challenge of the day was making either green, yellow, or red curry paste. The advantage of being able to make our own curry was being able to monitor the level of spice, based on the number of chilli peppers and especially their little white seeds that we added. While we pounded cumin, lemongrass, green chilli, corriander, garlic, and onion into our mortar, Sue walked around to each station giving helpful hints such as, "More!" or "Pound harder!" or "Okay, you done."

My host brother in the Galapagos would always tell me that a meal was not complete unless it included la sopa. He would have been pleased that our second course of the day was simmering a pot of creamy coconut soup or in my case, sweet, spicy, sour Tom Yam shrimp soup. As I added veggies and herbs to my bubbling pot, Sue came around to my station, chopped the head off one of my gray, lifeless shrimps and threw just the head--the body comes later-- into the pot. "For color and flavor," she announced as I watched as my pot turned bright orange, "But you be careful when you eat, their eyes will be watching you!"

We added our soups to our other two courses of curry and spicy green papaya salad, and sat down to eat. Our empty stomachs growled and for the first few moments, a silence passed over the nine of us as we munched and crunched and savored our masterpieces. Even the Brit who called himself a notoriously bad "Napoleon Chef," seemed impressed with the success of his personal mixture of flavors and tastes. Then we began trading dishes and swapping curry flavors until everyone was so full we had to get up and take a walk around the beautiful organic farm.

When we returned, Sue told us to find our woks! Now we would learn how to fry Pad Thai or roll and deep-fry veggie spring rolls. Luckily, we were allowed to take this food home. While the others were watching the steam rise from their woks, I struggled to roll my spring rolls without letting the paper-thin wrap break and then sealing them up with scrambled egg juice. In the end, they were a greasy success and a perfect snack for later in the evening.

The grand finale of our day of cooking was learning the secret behind a Thai dessert: Sweet coconut cream or milk. Sara boiled banana slices into sugary coconut milk, while Erin and I prepared Khao Niauw Mamooung, more popularly referred to as Mango Sticky Rice! We dished out our sticky rice from the bamboo steamer, mixed in sweet coconut cream, and tossed in the sweet, fresh, heavenly mango. One bite and I had decided the simplest dish was my favorite.

At the end of the day, as we climbed back into our Song Tao (truck taxi), almost forgetting the entire bag of leftover food we had prepared, we felt a wave of great confidence fall over the group. Our arm muscles were tired from the slicing and pounding, our fingers were sticky from the rice and sugar, and our upper lips were tingling from the chilli juice, but we had worked hard to nourish our bodies. We had learned to make five traditional Thai delights in one day and even have a recipe book from the course in case our memory fails us.

Better be hungry when we arrive home!

Photographer's Note: Sorry about the lack of photos, but we will add some soon when we get back to Bangkok!

Just Go With it: An Unexpected Joyride

Amber and I had it all planned out: wake up bright and early on Sunday morning, catch a taxi to the bus terminal, hop on bus number 73 and arrive at the floating market just in time to beat the tourists who were on a mission to check the floating markets off their to-do lists – or so we thought. When Amber’s alarm went off, she turned to me and said, “If we want to go, best get up NOW.” I interpreted that as I had at least another half an hour of sleep – which ended in both of us rolling back over in our cozy beds and sleeping through the market. As Sara headed out for a family day, Amber and I realized we had to face the city on our own and live up our last couple of days in Bangkok. As I flipped through the guide book, a new plan materialized: the National Museum, of course! We both got ready and sat in the guest house, waiting for the strong rain to let up. We finally grabbed our umbrellas and headed out the door – ready for the adventure that awaited us.

After getting off the Sky Train, we jumped on a boat heading up the Chao Phraya River. We got off at the right pier (with a little help), walked down an alleyway painted with graffiti and were spit out in the middle of the street. “Left or right, we thought?” Our question was quickly answered by a friendly Thai man who probably felt obligated to help the two bewildered farangs who stood before him. “Where are you going, madam?” he asked me. I told him our plan of heading to the National Museum, and he assured us that tomorrow would be much better for visiting it. He then proceeded to write the Thai name of another temple nearby which we could take a tuk-tuk to visit instead. We thanked him for his advice, but headed in our original direction – the National Museum! We were not giving up that easily.
On the way, we were stopped by a tuk-tuk driver who assured us he could bring us to the National Museum, take us to the Golden Mount, and then take us to a shopping district for “two minutes,” to peruse jewelry stalls while he loaded up on free gas – all for 50 baht. We thought this was an odd plan, so declined and kept walking.

Upon entering the museum we realized it was already 3:30 and it closed at 4:00. We sulked for a bit, then picked ourselves up and headed out, desperate to find any local attraction that would make our long journey seem worthwhile. Before we knew it, we were waved over by another tuk-tuk driver, spouting the same “free gas” plan that we had heard earlier - only this time, he wanted to take us to a tailor shop. It was not until the next day that Sara informed us of the warning on our map:

Beware! Many very convincing touts work Bangkok’s top tourist attractions. Posting as helpful students or friendly “tuk tuk” drivers, they may tell you the temple or shop you are going to is closed, then suggest you visit a ‘respected’ gem shop or tailor for a special ‘one day only’ sale. Don’t be fooled! They get ‘tea money’ just for bringing you there and commission son anything you buy. Then again, you can work this to your advantage: Clever friends got free transport around the city for exchange for ‘browsing’ in a few select shops!

Since our plans had all failed miserably, Amber and I decided to simply go with the flow. We jumped into the tuk-tuk and embraced the mysteriousness of our next move.
Within seconds, Amber and I looked at each other with bulging eyes wondering what we had gotten ourselves into. We realized that we had chosen quite the colorful tuk-tuk driver – his high pitched voice belted over the traffic asking us where we had come from, while giving us energetic salutes which required taking one hand off the wheel and grinning to us in the rear view mirror. This move obviously frightened us, especially as we joined the sea of zooming tuk-tuks and a crash seemed imminent. After learning we were from America, the driver exclaimed: “Ahh..California! Las Vegas! New York!” and laughed maniacally to himself. Amber and I chuckled along – expressing a combination of uneasiness and unexpected thrill. We continued to weave through the streets and entered what appeared to be a massive drag race of Bangkok tuk-tuks. The tuk-tuks roared past one another – and Amber and I tightened our grip on the side railing, hoping not to spill out. We noticed tuk-tuks to our left and right. Their colorful seats blurred in my peripheral vision, reminding me of a carousel that left its passengers dizzy. I turned to Amber and she let out an exhausted breath. "Just go with it," she said - so I did.

After our speed racer experience we finally arrived at Wat Sakhet, also known as the Golden Mount. We said goodbye to our tuk-tuk driver, who waited at the bottom of the wat while we made our way to what we perceived as the entrance to the Golden Mount. To our right, we passed a gigantic golden Buddha and a small shrine in the front which was showered in lotus flowers, burning incense and candles. As we continued up the steep stone walkway, we passed mini waterfalls, elegant elephant statues and droves of people coming down. It didn’t dawn on us that we were walking up the designated exit path until we passed more people and finally a monk whose presence jolted our consciences. We turned around and proceeded in the correction direction.

We climbed the winding stairs and paused periodically to catch a glimpse of the beautiful view over the city. We finally made it up to the very top, took our shoes off and entered the temple. Inside, many people sat in front of shrines, praying and chanting – their peaceful auras contagious. We reached the very top of the wat – and the infamous Golden Mount was revealed. It towered over those walking around it, including one family that walked in a slow, single file line as they prayed. Amber and I walked around the golden structure and peered over the edge of the balcony, breathing in humid air and taking in the visual stimulation of wats and the myriad of buildings which stretched across the city. Satisfied that we had made it to the top, Amber and I headed back down the Golden Mount and found our tuk-tuk driver who was excited about our next stop – the tailor! We hopped in and headed out. We passed a train station and sure enough, ended at a row of shops. “You look for two minutes!” he exclaimed. Amber and I looked at each other with a smile and headed in. The tailor shop was filled with colorful fabrics, clothing and silk ties. I had not intended to purchase anything, but found a green silk tie which reminded me of my dad. I gave in and purchased the tie – later realizing that the tuk-tuk driver was probably ecstatic over his commission. After our fun joyride, we arrived back to the pier and paid our tuk-tuk driver 5 baht each. We proved ourselves to be “clever friends” who darted around the city for practically free.

A New kind of R&R: Research & Relaxation

After two weeks of intense interviews and running through the city of Bangkok, Erin, Sara, and I decided it was time for some relaxation.  Erin had been pleading with us since we arrived in Thailand to go to the beach, any beach, as long as there was water to soak her body in and sun to fry her freckly skin. Every night before bed I'd see Erin eyeing her new swim suit, and moments later I would hear her talking in her sleep about riding the waves.  The yearning for a beach trip was contagious and so Erin's wish finally came true last week when we planned a three day trip to Koh Samed, one of the closest and most easily accessible islands for us city-dwellers, with serene white beaches and few tourists during the week.

A three hour bus ride to the port and a forty-five minute ferry ride in which we sat in hammock-like beach chairs on the top deck, and we had arrived at Koh Samed. I was immediately reminded of my earlier travels to the Galapagos Islands this winter when I saw the pick-up truck taxis lined up outside of the dock ready to take us to any of the island's bungalows.  It's exhilarating to experience an island for the first time while riding on the back of a pick-up.  I often heard people on San Cristobal, the island I lived on in the Galapagos, talking of the lack of breathing space on an island. Everyone knows everyone living on the island and it's easy to grow tired of the same faces.  Yet as a traveller, there is so much freedom on a small island; one can explore without the fear of getting lost and can avoid the feeling of being overwhelmed by the obligation to hit all the important tourist sights.  One learns to sit or lie by the water's edge and take in the surroundings, rather than having the surroundings take over the traveller.

Once settled in to our room at Naga's Bungalows, Erin and I could not wait to jump in the water.  Sara seemed to be content with waiting until the passing rainstorm cleared, but Erin

 and I ran down to the beach, our feet padding soft sand already covered with pock marks from the rain.  The rain felt refreshing on our sweat-glistened foreheads and we expected to be engulfed by cool salt water as we waded in, but were dismayed to discover the ocean felt like bath water. The cloudy sky made the water look murky and it was hard to see what was lurking on the ocean's floor. On second thought, we could wait until after lunch to venture into the waves.  

The food at our bungalow was quite delicious and the menu was diverse.  Although my first meal of Som Tam (*spicy* green papaya salad) made my eyes water and face turn a lo

vely shade of violet, the second day I had a wonderfully delicious dish of fried green papaya with egg. (And yes, I know I just mentioned the menu's diversity and then proceeded to talk about two green papaya dishes, but other food options included everything from American dollar pancakes with honey to overstuffed baked potatoes.) We also ate a delicious meal at Jep's barbeque our first night on the island where we shared skewers of fresh veggies and barbequed tofu, while enjoying the dangling star lamps suspended in the air and carpet of sand under our toes. 

Going out at night on the island was amusing considering the ratio of bars to tourists on the island was about 2:1. Our first night out we enjoyed some quiet girl time at a bar with little tables scattered over a section of beach with twisted trees and strings of lights.  The breeze from the sea kept the mosquitos away and we breathed deeply, our lungs rejoicing to be free of Bangkok's heavy pollution. Later at a bar giving away coupons for free cocktails (desperate?) we met a guy from Australia who somehow got involved in a debate about feminism with Erin and Sara. The night ended with me trudging home in wet clothes due to the fact that Erin and I once again could not contain our desire to become Buddhist mermaids. 

Wednesday, our second day on the island, was a beautiful day.  The sand looked like a brilliant white sheet covering the island's edge and the water was a deep aquamarine turquoise shade. We chose a spot to lie in the shade and made friends with the little beach bum doggies kept by the owners of our bungalow. They were not the starving soi dogs that we are accustomed to seeing in the city; these dogs were healthy and taken care of. They kept us company during our whole stay at the beach, especially one pup whose fur pattern resembled oreo cookie crumbs.  He was anxious to be our friend and even politely pretended to listen and share in my excitement as I neared the suspenseful conclusion to the novel "Bangkok 8."

  

Although our side of the beach had a sparse number of tourists, mostly backpacker farangs who have the luxury of chilling out during the work week, there were plenty of merchants roaming the beach trying to convince us to give them our money.  Some displayed fake tattoo catalogues, tapestries, or carried on their shoulders long bars hanging with baskets of fruit or coconut water.  Women wearing bright yellow tee-shirts, sauntered over to our haven under the shade asking, "Manicure? Pedicure? Thai massage?" Figuring we could spend 200 Baht (about $6) on an hour of relaxation, Erin, Sara, and I all got a traditional Thai massage on the beach. The woman kneaded our muscles until they turned into jelly and listening to the waves, I entered a deep state of meditation.

Wednesday night we walked to the other end of the beach where there were more people and more action.  We watched a fire show performance featuring six teenage boys waving sticks with fire on each end into the night air.  Occasionally, a stick would fall, immediately sizzling in the wet sand from high tide below.  The boys glowed.  The club music's beat pounded in their chests and the smaller boys jumped onto the other's thighs, spinning flames four feet above their partner's head.  During the finale, the stacked pairs of boys walked all around the crowded beach restaurant area, flipping their sticks like gods of fire.  We kneeled on pillowed cushions watching in awe, sipping with straws from the traditional "Sangsom" bucket. Later that evening we would find ourselves at our own bungalow's bar, writing down requests to the DJ and dancing to "Jessie's Girl" and even the Macarena. We would smile at each other. We were alone on the dance floor, but we didn't worry; we just danced. Our spirits were alive and we were free, when so many in today's world are not.