Monday, March 24, 2014

Koh Tao bound: Creepiest crawliest

Dogs guard a golden temple in Chiang Mai

went a'travelin' for many reasons, but for one in particular - 'dventure! And what better frontier to set out exploring then the depths of these deep dark ol' water puddles some folks call ocean. From Chiang Mai I make my way southward to the small yet thrumming island of Koh Tao off the east coast of Thailand. 

Night market in Chiang Mai the eve before I left for Koh Tao. Clogged like a stickyrice-filled nostril!

To get to this little island is a quest in itself. I stir up some clouds along a short flight from Chiang Mai to Bangkok, then hop on a sleeper-train from Bangkok to the southeastern coastal city of Chumphon, where I finally take a boat from Chumphon to Koh Tao. This, my friends, is the fabled thirty hour travel extravaganza!

Endless travel day preperation: Daddy's sleepytime-go-night-night juice

I awake at about 4am after a two hour snooze in my narrow squeeze of a bed inside the sleeper-train. Being my second sleeper-train experience, this time I came readily equipped with a bottle of cheap-as-can-be SangSom rum to help sleep take me a little easier. Maybe too easy. It's nearly time to get off at my stop when I peel back the sheets to the unsettling sight of tiny rows of red marks speckling my feet and ankles like little active volcanic islands growing larger by the minute. I have known these angry spots before, only last time they were seen on my arm a couple thousand miles away in Europe, in a hostel dorm within the gothic city of Prague. They travel the world in their endless search for blood...Bedbugs.

The crime scene. It seriously looks like a morgue. A morgue full of bloodthirsty bedbugs!

The little bastard parasites are stealthy thieves of the night! They creep out to sap your blood and leave behind only their signature trail of itchy-as-hell red bite mark bumps. Like mosquito bites, only far itchier, and they stick with you for more than a week instead of just a couple days. Needless to say, I jump out of that bedbug infested terror chamber in a semi-inebriated fluster. 

My bedbug bitten feets

I look down to the floor of the lavatory train car next door only to see droves of fat little insects crawling along the floor. I don't think they are bedbugs, as bedbugs are usually so small they go undetected, but there were a whole lot of em, and they sure as hell aren't cuddly! Usually I'm totally cool with bugs, but when they go crawling up your skin to suck your blood out of ya while you're fast asleep - well that's where I draw the line!

Off the sleeper-train, onto the ferry

Now there is a light to the end of this insect ridden tunnel. I get the hell off that train and soon thereafter make my way onto a backpacker-filled ferry bound for my island destination. I pray the bedbugs haven't hitched a ride inside my backpack, which they are more than capable of doing. After a four hour journey along the sea an island pops up into view along the horizon and begins to grow before my eyes as the ferry approaches. Crystal clear, light blue waters ring around fine sandy beach and lazy leaning palms. The small body of land that rises from the water appears in series of low green peaks and rocky outcroppings. This place looks like the kind paradise you see when you close your eyes and think "island oasis".

Land, ho!



From the port I walk along a backpacker-swollen main road towards my final destination: Big Blue Dive School. This place has a summer camp feel to it and will act as the base of operations during my stay. With dorm-room accommodation, a classroom, restaurant, and bar, this all encompassing place is where I will be spending most of my time as I learn how to be a fish. 

Back to school, not so bad!

The sun is blazing down without mercy and I'm ready to finally kick back and enjoy the beach. I bring out my little guitar and sit beside some sunbathing beauties to serenade them. All is well and the tanning babes are just beginning to take notice of my playing when out of nowhere a rooster dressed in an orange, black and green sheen pops out of the nearby beach-bushes and begins strutting around the sand, distracting the ladies from my glorious, melodious mating calls. That cocky bastard! No matter. The ocean water is warm like a summer swimming-pool, and the sand is fine like tanned flour. I am relaxation.

Just look at em, stealing all my thunder. Seems that some cocks are on a never ending quest for attention

Later that afternoon I attend the first short dive intro class led by Ollie, my British dive-master for the Open Water Course. He's tall, well spoken, and has an angular face with a pointed chin like some protagonist in an action cartoon. Tomorrow we will break into our scuba duba dive trainee teams and start learning some moves in the hazy saltwater pool.

They make some fine points.

Later that evening I find myself at a cozy street side restaurant pouring SangSom rum into my mixed-fruit smoothie under the table (no shame in saving a buck on a drink!). Here I also slurp down a fantastically tasty bowl of Tom Yum. This Thai soup has flavor out the yin-yang! Lemongrass, the Thai ginger-esk root called galangal that has powerful menthol and spicy qualities to it, plus onions, mushrooms and shrimp tossed in to provide some heartiness. I first tried Tom Yum in Chiang Mai and was completely unaware that the herbs and ginger were meant to flavor the soup, not to be consumed with a grimaced face and the thought of "Man, Thai people really eat this stuff? Ya, it's not so bad...I can do this." running through my mind. In this case, no, they don't really eat that stuff. You learn pretty quick out here! I still eat the lemongrass sometimes, don't tell anyone I told you though.

No photos of the Tom Yum, but there's that pompous cock again

It's late at night now, and I rest soundly in my lower bunk bed of the tidy six-person dorm room. Earlier in the day I had borrowed some anti-bedbug spray from a friendly British PE teacher on the boat to the island. My bag is surely bedbug free! In the depths of my carefree slumber I slowly stir awake. At the foot of my bed my leg is a bit itchy. Just the bedbug bites asking for attention. But wait - under the thin white sheet my leg is being tickled by...something. In the stifling darkness I tear off the sheet with a great whoosh. Simultaneously something big, fat and dark scurries  off my leg and up along the side of my bed - towards my face (which is contorted in horror). I can hear it scurry.

What is this foul creature that stirs me in the dead of night?

I leap out of bed like the mattress is about to burst into flames but keep my cool and don't make so much as a peep. I don't want to awaken the three other guys still sleeping nearby, safe inside their respective dreamlands.  I proceed to scan the scene with my phone light for who the hell knows what. Something plump and many-legged and so very eager to cuddle up with me. After searching for a while without finding a thing I reluctantly return to the scene of the unknown terror, climb back into bed, and attempt to fall back asleep.

This is what I found under the bed in the morning:

Monday, March 17, 2014

Mae Son Hong Loop: The home stretch


The last leg, the home stretch, the final countdown. Whatever ya call it, my 640km ride around the Mae Hong Son loop is just about through. I now make my way back towards Chiang Mai, where I'll finally come full circle (if the circle were drawn by a drunken child, that is). 

Before it's all said and done I pull off the road into rice paddy covered outskirts of the city. Under toasty sunrays I walk along a narrow raised path dividing the paddies. I climb up onto the floor of a shady bamboo hut (one can usually count on finding these simple huts wherever there is a rice paddy). Neon green rice seedlings make for row after row of silent audience as I strum away on the trusty travel guitar. The place is packed, a full house! I am happy in this moment.

The silence of the rice sprouts following my guitar performance speaks volumes. They are simply speechless.

All too soon I hop back on my motorbike and fly along the highway. With only 50km to go all of the sudden my motorbike engine heaves and the pitch of its purr shoots upward as my speed slows. The bike then throttles forward, decelerates again, and lurches ahead once more, and so on. For the final forty-five minutes of my journey this cycle continues, rocking me back and forth like a jaded old bull who knows his rodeo days are nearly through.

Did I mention that there are 7-Elevens everywhere you go in Thailand? They are plentiful like rice paddys

During this uneasy period I'm just waiting for the bike to start slowing down and continue to a stop if maybe it forgets how to speed up again. C'mon lil scoot, don't die on me now! I don't think my insurance covers a dead scooter...Luckily she pulls through 'til the very end, right back into Mr. Mechanic's where I reluctantly hand over the keys along with my faithful companion.

Scooter posing bashfully at a national park near Mae Sariang

A quick inspection begins. At first I'm all paranoia. Will they discover the failing engine and make me cover the repairs? Or worse yet, will they ship me off to Lopburi and make me dress up like a monkey to dance amongst the furry little primates as the town's hairy mascot for the rest of my days? They had better provide me with a pair of big golden hand cymbals if it turns out that way...

Or maybe they would just lock me in the back of this pickup truck cage with that ox...

My mind is jerked back to reality as I look back to the bike and notice a piece of the front fender jutting out the way no piece of front fender should. An employee inspecting the bike comes across this as well and shakes his head in a "tisk tisk" sort of way as he jots down a note. For a moment I'm convinced I'd unknowingly done the damage myself and will have to pay dearly. But now wait just a second! I realize it was the inspector who had popped up the plastic panel as a prank. A real comedian! I pop the fender back down with a fist and smile knowingly at the culprit. Wise-guy! I make it out of Mr. Mechanic's without any fuss.

Kids stuffed in what I can only imagine to be a Thai schoolbus

With the Mae Hong Son Loop under my belt, maybe I should remove my belt and slide it back through all the loops so I don't look foolish. I digress. Looking back on these 300 miles of Northwest Thailand my mind is flooded with sundrenched stills. Stilted wooden houses and their occupants peering out from yards with eyes on me as wide as dinner plates. Seductive detours tangled and meshed into that sprawling dark jungle, just begging me to go a little bit further. Thin wispy columns of black smoke slithering up from fiery edges that lap away hillsides at dusk. And of course my chirping, ribbitting red and black steed that hauled my ass along every stretch and turn of this dreamlike journey without fail. Northwest Thailand occupies a warm, shady nest in me. I will come back to know it better soon.

Dear Northwest Thailand, you are so lovely I would like to give you a French kiss

Outside Pai: Papaya dream come true

The night before I left Pai I dreamt I was eating fresh sliced papaya.

The next morning I set off in search of a waterfall on my way back to Chiang Mai I and drive past a farm with a sign on the road that reads "Land Split". A smiling Thai man just inside the gate ushers me in to park my bike and sit at a covered wood table outside. Still smiling, always smiling, he comes up and sets a bowl of fresh bananas and a glass of iced roselle juice on the table before me. "Free" he says. How curious...

The otherworldly roselle buds used to make sweet juice, jam, wine - all sorts of tasty stuff

I think free bananas and juice are just great as is, but then this farmer man hurries back from his little shack with three more bowls in his arms and sets them before me: one with boiled sweet potatoes, another of thin banana chips, and the last filled with a sweet roselle jam. Glorious! I hardly have a chance to sample these new additions when this dude is back with four more bowls!! The first is topped with ripe tamarind pods, the second contains a weird yet tasty sour tamarind spread, and the third holds a pile of peanuts for good measure. The fourth dish is literally the bowl of my dreams; brimming with what else but bright orange freshly sliced papaya!! My dream has come true. 

A feast fit for a Thai king

What is this wondrous farm magic he wields?! If all of that isn't enough, and it clearly is, the jolly farmer returns one last time with a small bottle of cold, deep pink roselle wine. What a spread! With one arm he motions towards the farmland before us and that explains it all. Every dish that comprises this colorful feast comes fresh from the soil not thirty feet in front of me. I eat to the point of stuffage, every dish is delicious and frsh2dth. Of course I make a donation to the farm and jot down my thanks and dream realization in the guestbook. Such a generous and delicious setup, this place.

On the farm I encounter the most enormous, handsome rooster I've ever seen. You can tell by the way he struts that he runs the place.

Seen just outside of Pai: Kids crawl inside giant transparent beach balls that float in a pond while puppies run around shore. In real life.

On the road from Pai to Chiang Mai there are 762 curves. Before I embark on this windy path I stop and explore a serene little waterfall and a strange miniature canyon. I want to see everything, all the time!

Sexy waterfall tries to seduce me into taking a dip in it's pool. Not today, waterfall, far too much to see.

Wee little tadpool, what do you want to be when you grow up?

Pai Canyon juts out like a reptilian spine winding different paths through the valley. I walk along crest and drink in the silence.


Friday, March 7, 2014

Mae Lana to Soppong: I need cave

Cave hoppin in my Jedi threads

I live! It's been a stretch since I last updated this here travel blog. I hate to make excuses, but I've been so busy trying to see it all I haven't had a moment to sit and put it all down. I reckon it's high time I brought things back up to speed as I sit in this Vietnamese cafe waiting an eternity for this funny little tin coffee drip device to leak out my beverage...it is painfully slow. Some condensing and shortcuts are in order if I'm to catch up, so here it goes!

Such peculiar scenery! This landscape definitely experimented with psychedelics when it was just hills

Though I am currently in Vietnam, I don't want to leave any gaps in history so I will pick up where I left off, when one month ago I was scootin' my buns around Northern Thailand hunting down caves and forbidden jewels:

Pigs and chickens poke around these roads, they want you to stay forever

High in the mountains of Northwestern Thailand, this land a landscape pulled straight out of a Dr. Seuss illustration. I find myself staying the night at a family homestay in this tiny squeak of a village called Mae Lana. It's set beneath lumpy, green mountains, in a little valley which supposedly holds a few caves I can creep around. I sit down in a kitchen with bamboo floor, legs criss-cross-applesauce, and share a home-cooked dinner with this warm, friendly Thai family. I have no idea what I'm eating, but it tastes like happy. Though we can't really communicate with words, gestures and smiles make due for our conversation.

Momma's cookin up somethin good while pops stirs up trouble

My room is across from the family room, where the parents and their ten year old son share the same walls. With a mosquito net draped around me I drift in and out of sleep. Roosters in the yard blare their alarm throughout the night, an earnest yet failed attempt at a lullaby. Harmonizing with the rooster, a cat screams out a guttural meow every fifteen minutes or so. Maybe he's frustrated that the night hasn't brought with it a plump little something to fill his belly, or maybe he's just looking for some pussycat. Ear plugs are foamy little miracles, I tell ya! I wake up at sunrise to drop into a cave with the father of this little homestay-household, a seasoned cave guide himself.

My homestay bedroom. Net to keep them skeeters out!

We ride our pimp-ass scooters up to Coral Cave, a winding depth covered with stalagmites that look, well, like coral. My guide, Wain (maybe it is spelled Wayne, but Wain just seems more Thai), gives me an animated tour of the place, comparing various rock formations to animals. "This one 'crocodile'! This one 'elephant'!!" It's like a cave-safari. Right on! After I get my fill of the cave I head back, pack up, and head out after I give my thanks to Wain and his wonderful wife Don Feng, the cook of my delectable Thai eats.

Hey spider dude, I dig your cave. Let me personificate you so I can better relate to you as my spider friend. We kicked it, he spun some web tricks to entertain. You're chill spiderbro, l8r!

Did I mention that on this particular day I am on a nonstop cave kick? I am determined complete at least one of the following:

A.) Discover the ancient remains of the elusive "missing link"

B.) Stumble upon an Aladdin-Tiger-Head-style-Cave stash of glittering treasure piled high from an ancient Thai Prince, 

C.) Uncover the secret lair of an evil Thai mastermind who hoards melted snowflakes (a rare and precious commodity in these parts) 

Any way you look at it, I need cave.

Soppong has my fix - this cave called Nam Lod that I'd heard whispers of back on the road a few days back. Hushed whispers. On my way there I hop over to Coffin Cave, which holds the shattered remnants of enormous wooden Teak coffins from a thousand years back. No one knows who hauled these huge coffins up into the mountainside, or why they are there. Mysteriousness! The nicest part about this cave is the basic yet heartfelt conversation I share with the family that runs the little ticket office at the entrance. 

"How-old-are-you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Our daughter same age! You like?"

Damn, check out dat thousand year old coffin up on stilts and all that. That's what I'm talking about!

Now I take a lovely weave of a ride through a shady forest towards Nam Lod. I hire a local Thai cave guide and though she speaks no English, she knows how to navigate this cave where alone one could easily get lost. She leads me along a trail that ends at this enormous, gaping mouth of a cave entrance, lined with thirty foot stalactite teeth. This cave isn't kinda big, and it's not even really big. This cave is fucking big. Seriously. You could fit a mini-mall, a  Walmart Super Center and a Denny's in this monstrosity of a space (maybe even squeeze a Starbucks in there for good measure). Call it the "Nam Lod One Stop E-Z Shopping Cave". I'm working on pitching this to the Thai Board of Cave Shopping Centers.

Nam Lot. This cave will eat your neighborhood and the mailman, twice

My cave guide pumps up this lantern like it's a basketball, then flicks it on and before I know it she's swinging around a miniature sun that would turn a vampire to ash in flash. She hails a bamboo raft like it's a cave taxi and we hop on. Did I mention there's a river running through this place? Well there is, wouldn't ya know it! A big ol' wet one.

Bamboo raft gets the job done. 

The old captain of the raft has seen some cave pirates in his day. He doesn't say so. He doesn't say a word, and that says it all.

We make various stops at points of interest along the cave river, climbing steep wooden stairways and bridges with the lantern casting light a few meters around us. This cave's got it all: sinkholes, animal-esk stalactites/stalagmites ("This one python!"), teak wood coffins, a river with fishies, and gigantic clusters of bats clinging to the high ceiling.

Don't get lost in Lot Cave, you WILL become a cave-ling

I found my way out by gnawing through four meters of solid limestone with my bare teeth over five days. I then swam up the cave river on the back of an ancient cave mermaid who I married and divorced in under twenty minutes. Turns out she wasn't the one after all.

My thirst for cave creeping has been quenched...for now. Finally I continue on to my final stop, Pai, where I just happen to run into Hazel, my Filipina friend I had met on the train to Chiang Mai a week prior. We crash a river reggae festival with two Canadian welders, a few bottles of cheap Thai rum and some hippie lettuce acquired from the women of the nearby hills. I can sum up Pai in two sentences:

"Would you mind holding this crystal while you talk? I was thinking you could give it some of your energy."

Pai - super heady