A Christmas Concert

Day two of my trip in Seoul, South Korea I attended school with Elissa. Her pre-schoolers had their Christmas concert this morning and I was given Elissa's camera to document the event. Altogether there are 22 4-5 year old students in this intensive English class. Not only were the parents there videotaping every second, but most of the kids received congratulatory bouquets at the end of their performance. Below are some of my favourite pictures from the day.

Santa 

Last minute rehearsals 

Intense concentration

Betty narrating 

Elissa buried by her class

"Get me out of this!" 

Displaying the Christmas loot

The unwrapping 

A congratulatory bouquet 

Flat roads = happier cyclist

We've spent the last two days cycling from Nimh Binh to Haiphong. Signs directing us to where we want to go are still somewhat lacking, but at least the roads are flat and the skies have been sunny.

We've been trying to take a more coastal, scenic route, and therefore have been having to find our way more than one would expect on a major highway. It's not always clear exactly where to turn, but we've gotten used to asking as we go. On our ride from Nimh Binh to Ngo Dong we took two (unintentional) detours that cost us well over an hour of cycling each. Luckily both roads included stunning views and very few trucks.

At one point we came to a crossroads where the direction we thought we should be heading appeared to be blocked by construction. After asking a helpful local which way to the next town he pointed at the construction zone. Of course that's our way, of course. However, in Vietnam it would seem when things are under construction you simply drive around/through the construction zone. After getting closer we realized that this is what every other moped and truck had been doing. Simply wait until the machines have stopped for a moment and go, with the assistance of a construction worker causually waving you through.

Yesterday we had had hoped to make it across the river to our next guesthouse. However, nearing the end of our day with the sun setting we still hadn't found the ferry that we believed would take us across. We decided to stay on the south side and try again tomorrow morning, but at that point we appeared to be in the middle of farmland and no where near a village. We stopped to find out where the nearest guesthouse was and ended up following three different people back a larger town we had cycled through earlier. After checking in at the hotel where we had been left by our last guide out of the farmland we asked about the ferry. Apparently it was 300 meters from the hotel, though no sign indicated a boat crossing, and we had passed it 2 and a half hours earlier. Opps!    

Other highlights of the last two days included: accidentally putting brown salt, not brown sugar, in my Vietnamese coffee; Dana's phone in a bag being mistaken as garbage and thrown out by a helpful food vendor on the side of the road (luckily Dana noticed almost immediately); finding a lost Dutchman with a broken spoke; eating fresh baguettes dipped in condensed milk; and milage signs placed in the wrong direction - yep, that wasn't helpful.  

Wet Towels

After our long and hectic day cycling to Ba Loc we stopped at the first guesthouse we saw. It was already dark, and as far as we had heard there was only one guesthouse in Ba Loc. Dana summed it up when she exited the bathroom and declared "I can't believe we're paying to stay here!!" It was freezing outside and there was no indoor heating. Our lighting was inconsistent and the beds were rock hard (though this isn't surprising). Our washroom came with one clogged drain, no hot water and a soggy towel.  As a cherry on top when Dana noted that the only towel left in our room was wet and requested a new one we received a "new" wet towel. Lovely.... But after a long, painful day of biking nothing will keep you from sleep. And one thick comforter kept me warm.

Dana was concerned by after another two days of cycling in the hills of Vietnam we would lose all interest in cycling and miss out on possibly the best part of our Vietnam adventure - the coast, where we thought things may be a little flatter, warmer and more clearly signed. I agreed. Cycling had just gone from friendly towns and breathtaking views to a challenge I was not up to. We located a girl from a nearby store who seemed to be the only one in town who spoke some English. With the help of her father and two others she sorted out what we were looking for and had us follow her to a stop where a bus driver happened to be eating breakfast. Pure luck! Within twenty minutes we were on a bus to Nimh Binh.

Once in Nimh Binh we spent the afternoon getting ourselves sorted. One of our chores was to clean off our bikes. After two days of cycling through muddy wet roads they were disgusting. We lucked upon a spot where, for 1USD, they were scrubbed clean by a lovely lady who was fully equipped with a pressure hose, buckets and rain boots. A dollar well spent. Unfortunately neither of us thought to take "before" photos of the bikes.

Crossing the Border

Xam Neua to Na Meo - 81km

We located a hotel at 2 in the morning and managed to sneak in some sleep before our border crossing. This road involved fewer ascents and descents, while still providing beautiful scenery.

We crossed into Vietnam around 3:30pm and didn't think we'd have time to make it to the next town with a guesthouse before dark so spent a night in the lovely border town of Na Meo. If you ever have to cross this border try not to get stuck staying in this border town. The next town with a known guesthouse was supposedly 58km away, based on our map. In Na Meo we met an American couple heading in the opposite direction. No longer needing their detailed map of Vietnam they offered it to us. On their map it indicated that our next town was in fact 80km away.

After an incredibly tough ride to Ba Loc we made it to our guesthouse just after dark. The ride itself shouldn't have been so hard, it wasn't overly hilly. However, unlike Laos, Vietnam doesn't provide signage or mileage and we spent most of our time trying to confirm that we were actually on the right road. Where there were signs the distance was inconsistent. For example at one point we were 42 km from a town, then 20 minutes later 18km away, and then 10 minutes after then 20km from the exact same town. It was impossible and frustrating. A long day is fine, but not knowing where exactly you are or how it could have possibly taken so long to get there was mentally draining. We began to doubt whether either map was had accurately measured the distance.To make matters worse the roads were horrific. Instead of the patches of dirt we had come across in Laos, these roads were missing random chunks which were then filled in with not gravel, but massive rocks. This meant that both bicycles, cars and motorcycles were trying to pass over the same smooth(ish) part of concrete left. In addition it was a one lane highway and vehicles traveled in both directions, pulling over to let oncoming traffic pass. They also LOVE using their horns here. This was possibly the worst day of biking I've had so far.

Nong Khiaw and the mythical bus

From Luang Prabang we took a boat ride up the Nam Ou River to Nong Khiaw. The morning started out less than ideal. We were told my our travel agent to get to the pier by 8am, so we arrived at 7:45. After asking three different people we confirmed that we should be at the right dock and our boat would be along soon. Now, when I say confirmed, I mean that I tried my best to show which boat we wanted and they waved, nodded and otherwise indicated that that yes, we were in the right spot and had to be patient. By 8:30 we were getting more and more nervous about the arrival of our boat when we were joined by two American cyclists (a father and son duo) also headed to Nong Khiaw. They were less convinced that we were all in the right place and located someone with better English who directed us to another pier. Luckily the travel agent told us to be there an entire hour early; we must not have looked very capable. The boat actually left at 9am, leaving us ample time to get to the next pier and check in.

Surprise number two came after boarding the boat and discovering our trip was a whole day trip. It was somehow lost in translation how long our trip would be. Dana and I were under the impression it would be five hours, apparently we would get in at 5pm. Big difference, especially since we hadn't packed lunch or snacks. This was completely my fault. Dana had suggested buying extra food in case we were hungry. I hated the idea of hauling more stuff along and thought we would be fine with breakfast rolls and one pack of crackers between us. Dan and Bert, the Americans, saved the day by sharing theirs snacks and stories with us to distract from the growing hunger. To make things more interesting within an hour of our boat departing from Luang Prabang we had stopped along shore to fix the engine. Our captain had to get into the water to take off the propeller, and instead of getting his pants wet he simply took them off. When I saw our captain strip down to briefs and walk to the back of the boat I stated "Well our captain is in his underwear. I don't much about boats but I don't think this is a good sign." This of course caused Dana to burst into giggles everytime she saw our captain for the rest of day. I'm sure the Dan and Bert thought we were a mature travel pair. The repairs set us back a bit and we didn't arrive into Nong Khiaw until 7pm, absolutely starving! 

We spent two more days in Nong Khiaw. It's a beautiful little town with some nice guesthouses and restaurants along the river. We spent one morning exploring a massive cave that people had used for shelter during the Indochina war. We also had the chance to spend some more time with Dan and Bert and hear some of their cycling stories. They are covering an impressive amount of distance per day, especially considering some of the hills we've climbed, and Bert has been cycling for over 6 months now.

Our departure from Nong Khiaw was as easy as our arrival. We had arranged for a night bus from Nong Khiaw to Xam Neau (near the Vietnam border) departing the evening of our second day. It seemed somewhat unclear if the bus would be departing at 7, 7:30 or 8pm, so we got to our pickup place extra early. At 8:30pm we were informed that our bus was already full and we would have to wait until noon the next day. I suppose this is normal in Laos, and I should have been prepared for the fact that a ticket does not necessarily equal a guaranteed seat in Asia, but I wasn't overly happy to find this out so late into our planning. A bus leaving at noon would mean we arrived in Xam Neau after midnight, not the best time to search for a guesthouse. The next day, after a second goodbye to Dan and Bert, we did manage to get a place on the noon bus and spent the better part of 13 hours on a firm seat in full bus. We did learn from our river incident though and packed dinner. Of course, there was a dinner stop.

Welcome to the hills

Vang Vieng to a Hot Springs Resort - 80km
 From Vang Vieng it started out with fairly flat, but the highway was a bit of a mess. Various sections of the road were not paved at all which meant you couldn't gain much speed. After lunch we started a slow and steady climb to our overnight destination. To make up for the climbing we spent the night on top of a mountain in small cabins beside a natural hot spring with a great view. It was absolute bliss, especially considering most of our guesthouses don't include hot running water. During the evening the hot springs turned into a popular stop with truckers, and seemed to double as the community bathing area. Since our guesthouse didn't include a shower at all we had a cold bath by splashing water on ourselves from the spout and then headed to the springs. We also met a German couple who were spending the month cycling Laos.  

Hot Springs to Kiukacham - 76km
Hills, hills and more hills! I swear my next cycling tour will be in southern Saskatchewan, or maybe Holland.
Today included several climbs including one gradual and painful 20km ascent. Kiukacham turned out to be a foggy little town on top of yet another mountain. When I checked the weather forecast for cycling Laos I neglected to find out whether there is much variation between larger cities and more remote villages in the hills. There is. In the cities below we could easily survive in pants and t-shirt. In the mountains I was freezing! After yet another cold shower I put on shorts, pants, a tank top, a long sleeved top and the only sweater I had (a lucky last minute packing decision). At our guesthouse we met up with the German couple from the hotsprings and another couple from Slovenia who happened to be cycling in the opposite direction. The two couples were more experienced at touring and were decked out with great gear and warm clothing. Needless to say, I was jealous.  

Kiukacham to Luang Prabang - 80km
We've finally arrived in our final cycling destination of the week! I'm not sure if I'm more excited about the prospect of getting some laundry done or having access to bakeries. Both are fantastic! Most of today's right was a descent which meant we arrived in Luang Prabang early in the afternoon with minimal effort. We found a guesthouse on the main road alongside the night market.

We ended up spending three days in Luang Prabang relaxing, enjoying a couple of massages, grabbing a new tire for Dana's bike (her previous tire had warped), and trying not to shop. Luang Prabang has a fantastic night market and if I weren't constricted with panniers I could have easily done all of my Christmas shopping here. However, the idea of literally pulling around gifts for two weeks was less than appealing, and my space is limited. Unfortunately with the location of our guesthouse we had to walk through the market to get anywhere. A lesson in self control. We spent one of our three days cycling 30km out to a well known waterfall in a National Park. It gave us a chance to get in some physical activity and make sure Dana's new wheel actually worked.

The cycling begins

After an overnight train ride to the Thai/Laos border Dana and I rode the first 23km across to Vientiane. We spent Sunday strolling around and getting ready for our big first day of cycling.

Vientiane to Hin Hoeup - 96 km

Our first day we managed to cycle 96km to the small town of Hin Hoeup. The roads aren't large, but are fairly quiet and about 20km outside of Vientiane the air feels a bit more breathable. We stopped in one town for breakfast, which consisted of noodle and meat soup. This is turning out to be a staple dish in Laos, and the bane of Dana's trip. After cycling for another hour we stopped in front of a guesthouse to check the time and discovered Dana had left her phone on the breakfast table. It was only about 20km back, which doesn't sound like much of a distance, but amounts to about 2hrs of biking round trip. Ugh! After some complicated interactions with women working at the guesthouse we arranged to leave our bikes locked up with them and get a ride back. Once they understood our situation they were extremely helpful and even flagged a bus down to take us back towards Vientiane. After successfully retrieving the phone we hailed yet another bus back to our bikes. I attempted to buy a bottle of water from the guesthouse and the women, who likely thought we needed all the help we could get, instead insisted that we take three bottles of water free of charge.
It ended up being a tough day for Dana. She also managed to destroy an entire meal by accidentally pouring in half a container of chilli paste into her soup for "flavour". Needless to say, she didn't finish dinner   


Hin Hoeup to Vang Vieng - 59 km

So far we haven't seen many other cyclists. We've passed one lone foreigner who looked geared up for touring and a young Dutch couple who were going in the opposite direction. The road may be lacking in other cycle tourist but just past one school we were joined by a group of school boys who formed a group around us and joined us for almost an hour of riding. With their old one gear bikes they were keeping up a good pace on the hills. 


This afternoon we arrived in Vang Vieng. This town reminds me somewhat of Koh Tao, Thailand. It is made for and catering to tourists in the most unfortunate way. While Koh Tao allowed people to scuba dive and get in some sober recreational activities, Vieng Vang is centered on drinking with things like tubing and caving appearing to be an after thought. We decided to head tubing for the afternoon and ran into a young Torontonian when asking for directions. She excitedly informed us that we didn't even need to rent a tube, the bars were within walking distance. Dana tactfully informed her that we were actually hoping to go tubing for the sake of tubing and not as a method of reaching bars. We spent the afternoon on the river lazily floating past all of the bars in a huge inner tube. I have to admit some aspect of it seemed like it could be entertaining, but not tempting enough to get out of the water for. Plus a day of biking is not something I think I could do with a hangover.

We're in Luang Prabang now, but I'm far behind on this blog. I'll try to update it again tomorrow and hopefully we can add some photos soon!

Shaking it up in the kitchen

  

We've decided to expand on our cooking skills. After a very serious request from a friend at UVic to cook Thai for him and his wife when I return go Canada, I decided to take some Thai cooking classes.

I've been eating a LOT of Thai food while here, but I don't actually know how to make most of it. Marian and I spent out Saturday afternoon at Silom Thai Cooking School. The cooking school is run by Nusi, a former scientist and chef with a great sense of humour. He now runs this cooking business out of him own home. Today 10 of us attended a four hour cooking session that focused just as much on eating as it did on cooking. We made 5 items and left with a cook book containing numerous recipes. Nusi also taught us that tamarind, which plays a part in various Thai dishes, is a laxative. Use this ingredient with care....

Our delightfully humorous teacher explaining a dish

The appetizer - Tom yum (spicy soup w/ shrimp)

Curry spices and the giant mortar and pestle used to make the curry paste

Our cooking stations

Course #2 - Pad Thai

Course #3 - Lab Gai (chicken salad) w/ sticky rice

Starting green curry

Course #4 - Green Curry

 Now to start practicing my new found cooking skills before my scheduled dinner party with friends.

Going Going Gone

This post is completely unrelated to travel, but I thought it would be worth documenting. On November 6th Marian decided to do something she had never done before - cut her hair short, very short. Without doing much research (making Marian even more daring!) we ended up at Cut & Curl in Central World Mall.

When Marian first sat down she thought she was getting a trim. And then the ponytail fell. 

Ponytail remains

"Yeah, I just did that." 

Half way there and no tears yet.......

Aside from being a great hairdresser, this woman was also very patient. She humoured having me and my camera around for the entire appointment.   

Introducing the new Marian Foucault. She's also no longer nice, short hair has that effect on people. 

Evacuating Bangkok

Last week Marian and I were informed that we may be sent to Pattaya the following weekend if flood water continued to threaten Bangkok. Pattaya is just under a 2 hour drive from Bangkok located along the eastern gulf of Thailand. It’s technically a beach town, though the city has managed to pave a road within 10 meters of the water's edge leaving a short, crowded beach running parallel to bars, strip clubs and a mixture of upscale and dodgy hotels. What Pattaya is best known for is its sex industry, which appears to be booming. Technically prostitution is illegal in Thailand, though one would hardly know it when taking a stroll down “Walking Street”, the main tourism strip in Pattaya. Clubs with names such as “Sexy Airline” and “Pretty Living Dolls” have young, attractive, scantily clad women standing outside to invite in visitors. Those who don’t work for clubs (free-lancers, as one person called them) stand along Walking Street or the path bordering the beach waiting for customers. We even passed a lane called Soi BJ - subtle, no? As an indication of how accepted this illegal activity is, I passed a police car on Walking Street with three policemen inside, all eating ice cream, and watching the world go by. No one seemed phased by police presence in the middle of it all. I contemplated trying to take of photos of them surrounded by the sex trade, but stories of police enforcement in Thailand made me reconsider.

Samae Beach, Koh Larn

We ran into an American couple last night. Both happen to practice law in California. The wife noted that she had read many articles written by feminist lawyers in Canada, something we’re known for she suggested. Her tone indicated that she did not consider herself a feminist, an interesting choice for a female lawyer. And she asked what a Canadian woman, assuming I must be feminist if Canadian and in law, thought of the sex trade in Pattaya. I said I found it hard to swallow. Her view was that the women didn’t seem so unhappy. Most were smiling and some seemed to find husbands. I’m not sure how she expected a woman in this industry to make money if she wasn’t smiling, and I wasn’t about to take that as proof of wellbeing. As for finding a “husband”, well I suppose that depends on the sort of husband one hopes to acquire. This isn’t exactly the sort of place where I would bank on finding my soul mate.

Samae Beach, Koh Larn

At work Wednesday afternoon we were informed that we would be leaving for Pattaya the next day, ideally in the morning, rather than Friday night after work. Water had entered Bangkok’s Chinatown, and Don Mueang Airport, where the flood relief operation had its headquarters, was now flooding too. We found out that we were being sent to the Royal Varuna Yacht Club, where some employees are members. Life is rough. 

Approaching Tien Beach, Koh Larn

The club has a surprising number of people who have left Bangkok to avoid the flooding or at least the lack of drinking water accompanying the flood. On top of those who have unexpectedly found themselves here there is also a regatta occurring this weekend, so club was incredibly busy. To avoid socializing with high society individuals Marian and I took a ferry to Koh Larn, an island 40 minutes from Pattaya in the Gulf of Thailand. There is a possibility that we will be returning to Bangkok this week. Flooding has yet to affect our area of town, nor the firm. In the mean time we'll be taking advantage of the lounge chairs by the pool located just outside of our room. 

Scooter Heaven in HCMC

Our second visa run found us in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, and ended in success!! Not only were we approved for a two month visa, making a third weekend trip out of Thailand (both expensive and tiring for only two days!) unnecessary, but we also managed to escape without being scammed in any way. This may sound like an odd feat to be so proud of, but in Southeast Asia it's a game we're starting to get used to. And we won this round! 


Marian and I became aware of the need to exercise more caution than usual when we received our guesthouse booking confirmation. Along with the usual "welcome" it came with a page long rant - yes, "rant" is the appropriate word - from the owner warning us of the many ways in which we may be ripped off while trying to get from the airport to her house. Lovely. Once we found our way to her place she informed us to wear our purses across our chest and to the front, not back, at all times. Thieves on motorbikes commonly snatch purses on their way past. Marian was already set for this experience. She owns a brilliant anti-theft travel bag made from slash resistant materials with a reinforced strap and clips that must be unfastened to unzip the bag. It's from MEC of course! Thankfully our bags remained at our sides and nothing was lost.

Busy Ho Chi Minh streets

One of the most immediate aspects of HCMC was the traffic. Thick herds of motorbikes would flow from intersection to intersection, with little regard for stoplights or pedestrians. The curb sloped down to the street, so bikes and mopeds would come sputtering up onto the sidewalk, missing street vendors and pedestrians by a hair's breadth. We soon discovered that, unlike at home where you press a button for the walk signal, the accepted street-crossing method in HCMC involves waiting until there are only a few motorbikes hurtling towards you, then striding fearlessly into the traffic in the hope that the mopeds will steer around. Sometimes this method requires you to stand quivering in the middle of the road to let by a wave of traffic: a mess of mopeds, buses and cars that honk at you and each other and, most often, for no apparent reason whatsoever.  Strangely enough, it seemed to work just fine.   


We met a friendly Irishman in our dorm room who was taking full advantage of how cheap cigarettes are in Vietnam by smoking as many as possible while he's there. A logical reaction I suppose, though it meant that anytime spent socializing with him involved being in a cloud of tobacco and returning home smelling like an ash tray. 

Pho - Vietnamese noodle soup

I managed to eat pho (a meat and noodle soup dish) all five days, even though I still can't pronounce it. Luckily it's a staple dish and commonly ordered. Some restaurants or street side stalls only sell pho which increases the chance of receiving this mis-pronounced dish as you fumble to explain what you want. My understanding is that it sounds something like "fe" or "fa" but every variation we used for ordering completely failed (Us: "Pho!"...  Street Vendor: ? [holds up four fingers]). This is where the point-and-nod method of ordering came in handy. 


Marian and I also left Vietnam without knowing how to say thank you. Our guidebook said it was something along the lines of "cam on", we tried saying this is a variety of ways but received only confused or startled looks. Marian's one attempt to ask a young woman how to say it was met with a somewhat nervous reaction. Clearly we are not meant to speak Vietnamese.  

A fruit stand in the soi by our guesthouse

Something that Vietnam has perfected compared to Thailand - baked goods! HCMC was full of bakeries, and I took full advantage of that. Our favourite spot was "Tous les Jours", appropriately-named since we ate there almost every day.  I assume, though this is only a theory, that the number and quality of bakeries is related to the fact that Vietnam used to be a French colony. I wish I could have taken one of the bakeries back to Bangkok with me.  


One re-occurring comment we came across was about how Westerners are treated in Vietnam as compared to the locals. As one ex-pat put it "if you're white there are no laws". In other words, the law is enforced when locals are involved but not as often when it's a foreigner. He and another ex-pat we spoke with cited it as one of the reasons they love living in HCMC. The idea of enjoying a country because you're being treated as a superior citizen is somewhat unnerving. 


We spent a couple of hours exploring the photo galleries at the Vietnam War Museum. A depressing, interesting, educational experience. The main focus of the museum was toll the war had on Vietnamese citizens. In particular, the lasting effects of un-exploded weapons still located around the country and the multi-generational effects caused by the USA's use of experimental chemicals on the people of Vietnam. The impact of those decisions means that the war wasn't confined to only one generation both mentally and physically, but that it continues to affect citizens today. On the top floor, there was a gallery of beautiful and haunting shots taken by wartime photographers, as well as photos of second-generation "Agent Orange" victims. As I moved through the levels I became increasingly nervous of being mistaken for an American. 

A boat ride on the Mekong River during our day trip to the Mekong Delta area. 

To lighten the mood after our trip the museum we strolled through the hectic, moped-packed streets and enjoyed a bit of the sunshine. Bangkok has been overcast and rainy for the past few weeks, so a bit of sunshine was welcome. Apparently there was flooding in that area of Vietnam while we were there, but the city itself was dry. 


We're back in Bangkok and hope to avoid flooding here as well. Either way we're prepared with extra food and water. The flooding would have to be substantial to flow into our 19th floor apartment so the primary concern is being able to survive in the apartment should the streets become impassable. I will keep you posted!




(written in part by Marian Foucault)

"Wow, it's a small world" Incident II

Our first day was drizzling so we opted to take a ride on the circular train that afternoon. The circular train is a commuter train that connects rural areas surrounding Yangon with the city. The name is fairly self-explanatory - the track is circular in shape.  It proved to be a brilliant move. Not only did we get to see a bit of the countryside surrounding Yangon, but we also met 4 hilarious, talented and well traveled Malaysian bankers. (Yes, I just used the words bankers and hilarious in the same sentence.) 

3 of the 4 Malaysian guys. You can likely tell who the
tourists are in this photo. 

Our trip in the circular train was a bit of an eye-opener, but a good introduction to Yangon. The areas surrounding Yangon were a mixture of lush green fields, heaps of garbage, busy markets, shacks and crumbling apartment buildings. Travelers are a rarity in Myanmar, and this became obvious after an hour outside of the guesthouse. A lot of children seemed to think we were hilarious and children have no shame when it comes to staring at people. Some people tried to be discreet about looking, others just stared. At first I found it unsettling, but upon realizing that they just aren't used to seeing Westerners I tried smiling back as often as possible. It worked. The women in particular were incredibly friendly, we received unlimited shy smiles and waves. 

The busy streets and old buildings of Yangon

Sadly the combination of a very old and shaky train with my limited camera skills means from the many, many photos I took only some turned out. As luck would have it one of the Malaysian guys is an award winning photographer. Thinking that this was a joke I laughed... it wasn't a joke. He helped me out a bit, but apparently even an experienced photographer couldn't save me. 




So, where does my "small world" moment come in? After knowing the Malaysian guys for almost a day (and that's a long time when you're traveling) we turned to discussing work. It just so happens that the bank where 3 of the Malaysian guys are employed deal with Chandler & Thong-ek (where we work) on a regular basis for financing projects and knew many of our co-workers. 

On Day II we spent the morning at Shwedagon Pagoda, an ornate and beautiful temple that is over 2000 years old. Shwedagon contrasted sharply with Yangon. Yangon is worn looking with large, stately, European-esque buildings that appear to have been completely neglected, water stained, crowded and crumbling, the roads are pock-marked, and the sidewalks sketchy at best. In comparison Shwedagon was glowing, freshly painted, clean, peaceful and so quiet. 

Marian at Shwedagon Pagoda

Another building that sharply contrasted with the streets of Yangon was the Strand Hotel. This hotel is over 100 yrs old and is meticulously maintained. It was built when Myanmar was part of the British Empire and it wasn't until the mid-20th century that Burmese people were even allowed to stay at the establishment. It's now (apparently) the most expensive hotel in Yangon, and the owners have kept the inside as classic looking as possible. 


Marian and I also discovered we weren't huge fans of Myanmar food; however, we were huge fans of the kitchen staff at the Motherland Inn. They were incredibly friendly. One staff member in particular sang his way through his entire shift. His rendition of My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion was a personal favourite of ours - though as Canadians we may have a biased opinion.

So what does a person do when they're in Myanmar for the weekend and discover they don't enjoy Burmese food? Our solution: eat Indian food! Biryani, lassies, dosas, somosas and a few delicious but unnamed items kept our bellies happy. According to our travel book when the British came to Myanmar they brought a lot of Indian workers with them. This occurrence led to Indians settling in Yangon and staying even after the British left. The outcome? Many, many places to find authentic, delicious and inexpensive Indian food. 

"How did I get here? And who are these large, pale people?" 

On our last day in Yangon, while waiting for our ride to the airport, we spent an hour with the 5 month old son of one of the guesthouse workers. He was spending the afternoon with his Grandmother while his Mom took a nap. I took this opportunity to practice my photography, though the lighting isn't great.  His Grandmother didn't speak English, but she was very patient as Marian and I goo-gooed and ga-gaed in English to her grandson. He seemed very confused by us and my camera (as you can see).

Dillon (the award winning photographer)

One overwhelming memory I have of Yangon is the smell. No matter where we were there was an underlying smell of sewers, this included our guesthouse room. Marian couldn't always smell it, which means I've gone crazy or have a more sensitive nose. Upon returning to Bangkok I noticed was how clean it smelled. This isn't usually a term I would use to describe a city of 9 million people, but in comparison it fit. Bangkok also seemed incredibly modern and well maintained. Yangon made me appreciate how luxurious Bangkok is, and of course how lucky we are to have Thai food as our local cuisine here (though I was appreciating that before). 




The number of photos I can add to my blog is limited, so I've set up a Flickr account. If you'd like to see more go to http://www.flickr.com/photos/rooadventures/ I should note two things you may notice about the photos.

Happy baby with thanaka on his forehead 

1) Most men and women in Myanmar wear "lungis". These are skirt-like wraps that are tied in a knot at the front. Having spent three days walking around in jeans I'm assuming that a lungi would have been much cooler and more tolerable. 




2) Thanaka - this is a cream made from bark. You will see if smeared on the faces of some of the people in my photos. Thanaka works as both a sunscreen and for decorative purposes. From what I saw mostly children and women wear it.  

Marshmallow beds at the Motherland Inn

Sometimes it's easy to forgot how comfortable something used to be when it's no longer around. This is how I felt when I flopped onto my bed at the Motherland Inn (2) in Myanmar this past weekend. I didn't bruise my tail bone or receive a jolt on impact, I sunk... well, sort of. The beds at the Motherland Inn would be considered "firm" if I were mattress shopping in Canada. The beds at our condo in Bangkok would be considered appropriate for a kitchen table. The last intern had warned me to bring or buy a mat as cushioning. In my usual fashion I paid no attention. For the first few nights I woke up sore and stiff, and then, somewhere between arriving and going on our first visa run, I adapted. I had almost forgotten that the beds here were so stiff until I landed on my guesthouse bed Friday afternoon. Marian aptly defined the feeling as a "firm marshmallow". Pure comfort! 


Marshmallow beds aside our first introduction to the Motherland Inn wasn't as reassuring. After a delayed departure and an incredibly slow moving customs line-up we arrived in Myanmar to find out our ride to the guesthouse had already left for the morning and wouldn't be back until 5:30pm (it was 10am then). We arrived at the Inn by taxi to find out that they had no reservation under our name, despite having sent us 3 emails confirming our booking. While they sorted out the mishap we were shuttled into the breakfast room for a free breakfast and to wait. We were welcomed by a tall, unshaven, young German who was laughing at our confused state and the rate at which we were being rushed into the dining area. I swear he was planted there to appease new guests because he immediately turned our mood around (..... the food may have also helped). 


Here I had my first of three "wow, it's a small world" moments in Myanmar. Usually when talking to foreigners (and this often includes Americans) I have to explain where a place is in Canada by its proximity to Vancouver, Toronto, or Montreal. My favorite reactions are when I have to explain where I grew up. "Have you heard of Toronto? Yeah? I'm about a 24hr drive east of that city" [yes BC readers, there is more of Canada east of Toronto, and it's not just Quebec] or "Oh Vancouver, well if you cross a piece of land roughly the length of Russia you'll arrive in my hometown" -  jaw dropping reactions.   After half an hour of conversation the German asked where we studied in Canada. Assuming, as always, that people have no idea where Victoria is I've started defining it as "a few hours from Vancouver." Well, explanation unnecessary. We discovered that this guy had not only lived in Canada, but that he had studied for 9 months in Duncan, BC. For those of your not from/familiar with BC (I suppose that would be most of my readers), Duncan is a very, very small town up island from Victoria.  


Unfortunately, this friendly, unnamed man was leaving Myanmar the afternoon that we arrived.

Bangkok doesn't mess around with exercise

Exercise classes at California Wow have proven to be anything but boring. For our first trip to the gym Marian and I opted for a step class. The schedule said "Step Evolution B/1". Marian has taken a variety of step classes before and I'm fit and coordinated (kind of). Beginner/Level 1 shouldn't be a problem right? 


Before the class began a middle-aged, heavier set man came over to where Marian and I had set up our "steps". He introduced himself and asked if we had taken step before. He obviously knew we hadn't been to any previous class with him. We mentioned our varying level of expertise (mine being zero). He noted that today's class is somewhat challenging, but if we kept coming it would get a lot easier, and we should give it a try regardless. We thanked him for the warning and assured him we would be fine. I thought to myself "it's a level one step class not a dance competition and this man doesn't look overly fit. How hard could it be? Yeah I'll likely miss a few steps, but that's fine." 


Our second indication that this class may be a bit of a challenge came when our instructor made a few opening comments. Usually this wouldn't be an issue, except that I had no idea what he was saying. Apparently our step class would be taught in Thai. Everything went downhill from here. As Marian put it "this was a step class like I've never seen before." Not only was it taught in Thai, so that we were consistently behind on the instructions, but as it moved along the routine gained speed and complexity. This was more like an advanced dance aerobics class that just happened to incorporate a step into their routine. And, with the exception of Marian and I, it appeared as though this class had been training for months. For about 5 minutes I decided to make up my own routine, I can dance around a step too you see. This decision provoked odd looks from the woman beside me. It would seem that fumbling along was more appropriate. To top it off at the end of class the instructor asked us to turn our steps so that they would face the right wall. We then proceeded to do the routine facing the wall, not the mirror. This would have been fine if Marian and I were in the back left corner, we would have been behind everyone, but we had chosen the back right corner. The class, who had the routine polished, were now facing us, and we were now facing a wall. Needless to say this was the most embarrassing and simultaneously hilarious step class I have ever attended. And never again will I assume a middle-aged, heavy set man cannot also be nimble on his toes.


So, Step Evolution B/1 was off our list of classes to attend. Next was yoga. Marian has been taking yoga for over 8 years, myself for over 3. Between the two of us we had done at least a couple of classes in most of the types offered at the gym. Sunday night we decided to head to the gym for an Ashtanga yoga class. There must have been very, very small font indicating that this Ashtanga class was only for gymnasts, dancers and synchronized swimmers. Wherever that warning was written Marian and I missed it. This yoga instructor was the most intense I have ever encountered. He put Bikram to shame. He had us doing yoga flows so quickly that you could barely breathe - even though yoga is supposed to include concentration on the breath. He described "dancers pose" as "reach behind you, grab a hold of your heel and pull it up to touch the back of your head". Are you kidding? Apparently not, the rest of the class followed by placing their toes within inches of their head. Another "pose" was the splits, held for 30 seconds. If I had introduced myself to the entire yoga class the number of people I know who can actually do the splits would have increased 10 fold. It was unreal. The class proceeded in a similarly intense and very bendy fashion. Upon leaving the class the instructor stopped us to chat. He recommended "trying a beginner yoga class". I contemplated throwing my water bottle at him, luckily Marian has a much calmer, kinder demeanor and thanked him for the class.    


Marian and I have discovered a class that we both enjoy and doesn't put us to shame - Body Combat. It's basically a kickboxing aerobics class. There is no contact and everyone is facing the mirror while you punch, elbow, kick and bounce your way to cardio bliss to upbeat pop music. The instructor is great, and instructs in English. Last night we had the good luck of standing beside what we can only assume were a dance group. Possibly a theatre dance group? There were about 10 of them, most of them men. They would be going along with the moves and then all of the sudden add a flare, like a jazz square when we should be jogging on the spot, or clapping on the 8th beat, or hand flourishes (think jazz hands) instead of a mock forward jab or cross cut. In some cases during a punching/kicking/jogging routine, one would member would instead improvise a short dance sequence that modified the boxing theme and then on the next rotation of music the entire group would follow. It was amazing! Though also distracting. Rarely do I wish I had my camera during an aerobics class, but I would have loved to capture this.   


So, our lessons: 1) Thai people don't mess around with exercise, go big or go home; 2) the language of class instruction is not indicated on the schedule, make no assumptions; 3) Marian and I are "beginners" when it comes to yoga and step; 4) when you're clearly a farang, don't worry about embarrassing yourself, it's entertaining for everyone involved. 

More Mango? Yes Please!

Since arriving in Bangkok Marian and I have been fortunate in meeting some wonderful people. Notable on this list of wonderful people are Namwa and Jolie, two Thai law students introduced to us by a former UVic intern. There are a number of reasons we are happy to have met Namwa and Jolie, but two reasons in particular stand out.

Mangoes, mango sticky rice, and mango ice cream.

Reason #1 - Food. The four of us decided to meet over dinner. Food is the best way to bond, especially in Thailand where eating has become the focal point of our day. And it's not just Marian and I obsessing over food, instead of greeting someone with "how are you today?" the more traditional greeting in Thai is "have you eaten?" Jolie helped us navigate the busy, confusing and amazing food court in the Paragon Mall. Unlike most food courts this one serves edible food. Yes, there is a Subway and a KFC, but there are also a string of small stands that serve a variety of delicious and authentic Thai food. Jolie claimed that some of the best Pad Thai in Bangkok could be found here. And if two locals are bringing us to a food court it can't be that bad!

Mango ice cream with mango sauce and coconut cream

After dinner we headed My Mango Tango for dessert. My Mango Tango is somewhat hidden down a soi (lane) off of the Siam Shopping district. Without expert guidance and local knowledge Marian and I are unlikely to have found it.

As indicated by the name this cafe is all about mangoes! Mango ice cream,  mango smoothies, mango sauce, mango sticky rice..... the dessert options were overwhelming. Sadly (or luckily, as otherwise I may still be standing at the counter contemplating what to order) a surprising number of the options involved dairy. This meant I was left ordering fruit salad with sweet basil seeds. These seeds, when soaked in water, expand into little gooey jellies with a black center. Looks odd, sounds worse, but tastes good. Somewhat more healthy than what I had in mind for dessert, but delicious nonetheless.

Reason #2 - Dancing. After dessert we accompanied Namwa on a night out on the town. It just so happens that cuisine isn't Bangkok's only strong point, they also have great clubs (or at least one). As most of you know I'm not a person that goes out clubbing often, it conflicts with getting to bed by 11pm. But having just met these people I didn't want to be the naysayer of the group so I followed along. The club we went to was located in a dilapidated warehouse, down a soi that I wouldn't have wondered down late at night otherwise. My first impression wasn't ideal, the door staff were charging farang (Western foreigners) cover, but not locals. I'm not sure if it was to deter farang from coming or because they know most of us would pay it. Not cool, Bangkok. To our advantage Namwa's friend talked them into letting us in without paying. Inside the club was packed with locals and farang (if cover was meant to deter it wasn't working) and the most energetic, humorous DJ I have ever seen.

Fruit medley with sweet basil seeds
(the whitish black centered stuff) over top

The following Tuesday Namwa invited us to go dancing again. This time at a small bar where they have Bachatta lessons from 8-10 on Tuesdays and Salsa on Thursdays. Marian and I have decided to make these lessons a regular event. You never know, but the end of our term in Southeast Asia we may have mastered dance moves from Latin America. In the alternative, at the least we'll have made new friends!

  

Sunday afternoon strolls

Marian and I had a lazy Sunday afternoon. Below are some photos we took while strolling around our neighbourhood in search of lunch.

Marian hiding behind the newly discovered khanum buang (aka Thai crepes)! These small desserts are composed of a tiny, crunchy base, coconut cream filling and golden thread (foi thong - made from sweetened eggs). Delicious!

Various food vendors in the atrium of Silom Central Mall. You can purchase chicken wings, fried crickets, sushi, and grass jelly all within 20 square feet.

It may seem like an odd place to take a nap, but at least it has a roof.

A token of nature on Bangkok's grey and rainy streets.