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The Final Chapter: Getting Home

Posted April 7, 2020

Winding Down

One final blog post to finish out our grand adventure. Steve and I started our journey flying from Seattle to Portugal, staying for a month, then on to SE Asia for almost five months, and lastly to Spain for ten days. We started out back on September 24, 2019….fast forward to day 172 of our trip, in the wee hours of March 12, 2020…

Buzzzz…Buzzzz

At the ungodly hour of 2:30 am, Steve’s phone buzzed and buzzed in the dark of our bedroom in Valencia, Spain. Even before the buzzing I was already a bit grumpy (ok, I was actually very grumpy), for a couple of reasons:

Lack of Sleep. I hadn’t slept soundly for the past eight nights. The annual Falles Festival, held in Valencia, was in full swing. The Festival celebrates St. Joseph with an outrageously loud and impressive explosives show in the main square, held at 2 pm daily, every day in March. Throughout the day, singing minstrels in traditional garb roam the streets, as well as large and small marching bands, and impromptu groups break into song on street corners. There’s festive partying in the streets at all hours, including just outside our apartment.

Traditional dress and roaming bands for Falles, Valencia, Spain

Worry over the Coronavirus. Being in Valencia during the Falles Festival would typically be a really fun time to visit the city, but the disconnect between having a large festival and a potential pandemic was difficult, and weighed on us. Madrid, a two hour train ride to the west, had already shut down, but Valencia was in 24 hour party-mode. The virus had been slowly ramping up over the past couple of weeks, but was suddenly accelerating at a quick clip the past few days, both in Spain (where we were staying) and in the Seattle area (where we are from and have family).

More Buzzing

The buzzing started up again. I rolled over and complained to Steve that his expletive phone was making me crazy. He sighed, reaching for his phone. Rolling his eyes (it was dark, but odds are good that he rolled his eyes), he answered. It was Jeremy, our 25 year old son, phoning. I knew it had to be something urgent, since our phone plan doesn’t cover calls, but here was Jeremy phoning.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Jeremy has always had a loud, booming voice. At the age of four we decided to have him tested for possible hearing loss, since speaking loudly can be a sign of a hearing issue. Turns out he has perfect hearing.

Anyway, I could clearly hear Jeremy through Steve’s phone. In a loud and firm voice, he said:

“DAD, YOU MUST WAKE UP RIGHT NOW”. He had our full attention.

A Text Thread for the Ages

I sat up and grabbed my own phone off the side table. It had been in silent mode. I stared at the screen. I had twelve missed texts.

Key takeaways:

“So mom and dad are fucked?”
“They might be”
“Holy shit I can’t believe it”

Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either. I sat cross legged on the bed among the disheveled sheets and blankets, in a haze of shock, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Was this true? Could this really be happening? Were we going to be locked out of our country?

Were we, as our son so eloquently put it, fucked?

The Deadline

Steve had gone into the living room. I have no idea what he was doing, but he was probably pacing. Still sitting on the bed, I started searching YouTube and Google for President Trump’s speech. Nothing seemed real, and I thought seeing the speech myself would help make it so. I wasn’t having much luck. It was too soon and nothing was posted online yet. At that point, all we knew was that Trump had made the announcement that no flights originating in Europe, except from the U.K., could land in the United States starting at midnight on Friday the 13th for a minimum of thirty days.

We had 30 hours.

I vaulted from the bed and turned on all the lights in the apartment (for no apparent reason). It just felt like the right thing to do. I arrived back in the bedroom and got fully dressed, including a bra.

Looking back, that’s how I knew it was serious. Putting on a bra is a commitment that says, yep, it’s time to leave. No time to lounge. It’s like I’d be leaving the apartment and the country right then and there, at 2:30 am. I frantically looked around the room. I flipped open my backpack, thinking I should start packing immediately. We had to move fast! I stopped…wait a minute, we need to make some plans first, right?

Thirty Hours or Thirty Days

Random artwork on a wall in Valencia, Spain

Joining Steve in the living room, I flipped open my laptop and started the search for flights home. Unfortunately Trump’s announcement didn’t include many specifics, so we had to make some assumptions. What time-zone applied to the deadline? We assumed Eastern Standard time, eight hours behind us.

At that point, we had to assume we would be locked out of the United States for at least 30 days if we didn’t get home by the deadline: Friday the 13th at midnight.

Hurry Up

My heart was racing. My laptop was loading way too slowly for my practically non-existent patience. There was some exasperated yelling (by me, at my laptop), which wasn’t making websites load any faster. Every flight offered to Seattle would land us at SeaTac International Airport after midnight, March 13. Perhaps we were fucked, after all. Taking deep breaths to try to gain some perspective and calm myself, I started looking at any flight that would deliver us in time, anywhere in the United States.

Ahead of the Curve

Thankfully our son, Dylan, had been watching the President’s announcement and acted quickly. Because our kids persisted in waking us up, we were ahead of the flight search onslaught that ramped up only a few short hours later. With the time difference, most Americans traveling in Europe didn’t hear about the new mandate (and deadline) until they woke up the next morning. By then it was getting very difficult to find a decent flight home.

I frantically searched for over an hour, finally securing a flight that would get us to the United States by the deadline. We’d leave Valencia later the same day, at 6:00 pm. We’d fly to Lisbon, with a fifteen hour layover, then take a fourteen hour flight to the west coast (San Francisco) of the United States. With the 8 hour time difference in our favor, we’d arrive in the U.S. with five hours to spare.

Sunshine & Tapas

It had been an insane night, and we couldn’t get back to sleep. We didn’t even try. We did our best to enjoy our last morning in Valencia. The sun was shining and throngs of tourists (and locals) meandered the cobblestone streets, with not a care in the world.

We sat at an outdoor cafe (suitably distanced from others), enjoying our favorite tapas one last time. It was astonishing to see so many people going about their day as usual. I wondered aloud, “How long until their world would turn upside down?” Little did we know at the time, but the people of Spain had only one more day of “freedom” before a country wide shelter-in-place order was enacted.

Time To Go

As we stood in line on the tarmac at the airport, waiting to climb the stairs to board the plane, a twenty-something year old woman and her boyfriend were reminiscing about how lucky they were to have booked this flight out of the country. Still up and drinking at 2:30 am had saved them. Drunk, but not too drunk to comprehend Trump’s announcement. Drunk, but not too drunk to book a flight home.

Lisbon International by Night

Lisbon Airport is a large, modern, gorgeous airport full of upscale shops and restaurants. Unfortunately it doesn’t have great overnight options, and our layover ran from 7:00 pm until 10:00 the next morning.

We knew we had to find a place to land for the night. We had fifteen hours until our next flight and our options came down to:

#1) The couch like seating in the busy food court, or

Steve trying to get comfortable in the Lisbon Airport

#2) A group of “recliners” we’d read about online that (unfortunately) turned out to be rock hard and uncomfortable, or

#3) A group of six black vinyl covered stubby “couches” (with dirty lime green trim) tucked down a long corridor by Gate 14, with sparse (and strange) beige plastic tubes hung from the high ceiling in a pathetic attempt to screen the couches from the hallway. Each couch had a poorly placed hump that looked like it was supposed to be a pillow of sorts, but only served to make it impossible to lay down comfortably.

We went with option #3. I huddled on a too short “couch”, in the freezing cold, brightly lit airport terminal all night, hugging my backpack so no one would steal it, trying to sleep.

Thankfully there are no flights between approximately 1:00 to 5:00 am, so the airport cleared out of all traffic, except for us diehard overnighters.

We thought we’d at least get a good sleep during those 4 hours. Little did we know what lie ahead.

Cleaning Up

I’m one of the lucky few who know exactly how one of those large, riding floor polishers sounds as it makes its way back and forth on the expansive linoleum floor in the dead of night. And it’s not pretty.

From the dead quiet of the eerily empty terminal comes a distant quiet rumbling, like an oncoming earthquake. The rumbling grows louder and louder as the polisher approaches and the floor shakes. There’s the loud sound of a motor and swooshing polishers echoing in the cavernous terminal as the polisher reaches us and slides past the little black couches full of weary travelers, each tucked into the fetal position, trying desperately to stay warm and keep up off the floor. Then the process reverses as the polisher gets further away, sliding down in the opposite direction, until finally everything returns to calm and quiet.

There’s a brief respite, when I’d almost get to sleep, then the polisher travels back up the corridor towards us for a second pass, and a third pass, and a fourth pass, and on and on…. I’d been awake for over 24 hours. I was exhausted and dazed to the point of delirium.

Thankfully everyone in the overnighter club was keeping to themselves. In those wee hours, no one tried to engage me in conversation, including Steve, or they may not have come out of it alive. I just wanted to make it through the night and get on that 10:00 am flight to San Francisco.

Under the Wire

Next up, a fourteen hour flight to SF International. For some reason (shock, exhaustion, disbelief, insanity) I couldn’t sleep on the flight, despite being so tired. So the non-sleep induced stupor continued.

We landed in San Francisco and approached customs where we got in the crowded, circuitous line to see an agent for permission to enter the USA. We had under five hours to spare before the midnight deadline.

I could barely stand and felt myself rocking back and forth on my feet, almost drifting off, as I made my way, ever so slowly, towards the customs agent, one step closer to home.

We stood packed in tight with other relieved European travelers, happy to be beating the deadline. A higher than normal percentage of our fellow travelers were college students being sent home after their study abroad programs had been abruptly cancelled.

The college students, recognizing one another as fellow students in the same boat, talked across the crowded room. We all felt a kind of camaraderie.

“Where are you coming from?”, they’d ask each other.

“Berlin”
“Amsterdam”
“Lisbon”
“Paris”

We were from all over Europe and now we were all standing together in a weaving line, bunched together and waiting. For an hour and a half. After weeks of trying our best to stay away from crowds it felt like we were breaking all the rules, and we were.

Finally, it was our turn to approach the customs agent.

“What city did you fly from?”, asked Mr. Customs Agent.
“Valencia, Spain”, we answered.
“Business or pleasure?”, asked Mr. Customs Agent.
“Pleasure”, we answered.
“Welcome Home!”, says Mr. Customs Agent.

It’s All Good

And that was that. The agent asked nothing about how long we’d been traveling, if we’d been to any of the Coronavirus “hot-spots”, if we were feverish or feeling ill.

WHO tweet announcing *World Pandemic*, March 11, 2020

Even though the Coronavirus was deemed a worldwide pandemic just two days prior on March 11th, entering the USA was business as usual. There was no information posted anywhere in the airport and nothing was said to us about what to do if we had Coronavirus symptoms in the coming days. There were no instructions or suggestions to quarantine ourselves (especially if we’d come from an area of high infections). No information on the virus at all.

Taking Action

What a stark contrast to our experiences in Southeast Asia. In a time when days, even hours, count in battling this virus, we had expected much more upon entering the States. Well, certainly more than nothing.

Health Card handed out at Bangkok Airport

Twenty-five days prior, on February 18th, we entered the Bangkok airport from Vietnam. Before we could walk into the airport a worker took our temperature and handed us a Coronavirus information card, complete with medical hotline phone number.

And, as long ago as February 21st, workers took our temperature while we boarded a small ferry boat in southern Thailand.

Virus info table with free masks, Siem Reap, Cambodia

Even in Cambodia, thirty-four days prior (about February 9th), we encountered Coronavirus public service message tables, complete with pamphlets and free masks at remote shopping centers.

And fifty-three days prior, back on January 21st, while in Saigon, Vietnam, all schools had already closed. But entering the United States from overseas at a major airport on March 13th, over seven weeks later – nothing.

The next day we took a flight home to Seattle. Again, we didn’t see any evidence of a world pandemic.

The Final Weeks

The last three weeks of our trip were a bizarre combination of fun, relaxation, anxiety, and concern. We’d spend most of the day relaxing and enjoying ourselves, interspersed with listening to live briefings on the Novel Coronavirus from the CDC (Centers for Disease Control) and WHO (World Health Organization) on YouTube.

We spent two weeks in southern Thailand, first at Aonang Beach in Krabi, then at Klong Dao beach on the island of Koh Lanta, enjoying the sunshine, reading, swimming, and eating lots of good, cheap Thai food. But concern about the spreading Coronavirus was never far from our thoughts.

Then on to Spain for ten days.

It certainly wasn’t the ending I had envisioned, the Novel Coronavirus saw to that.

Even so, it was an amazing trip. Amazing in every way. I’m thankful for each and every day of our travels, and for the fact that we were nearing the end of our trip when we had to cut things short.

Trip Itinerary:

Portugal

Lisbon, 5 nights, Sept 25-30, 2019
Sintra, 2 nights, Sept 30-Oct 1
Lagos, 3 nights, Oct 2-4
Salema, 4 nights, Oct 5-8
Evora, 3 nights, Oct 9-11
Tomar, 2 nights, Oct 12-13
Coimbra, 3 nights, Oct 14-17
Porto, 6 nights, Oct 17-23
Lisbon, 1 night, Oct 23-24

Thailand

Bangkok, 4 nights, Oct 25-29

Myanmar

Yangon, 4 nights, Oct 29-Nov 2

Thailand

Chiang Mai, 10 nights, Nov 2-12
Chiang Saen, 3 nights, Nov 12-15
Chiang Rai, 5 nights, Nov 15-20
Chiang Mai, 1 night, Nov 20-21

Vietnam

Hanoi, 3 nights, Nov 21-24
Ha Long Bay, 1 night, Nov 24-25
Hanoi, 7 nights, Nov 25-Dec 2
Overnight Train North to Sapa, 1 night, Dec 2
Sapa, 4 nights, Dec 3-7
Overnight Train South, 1 night, Dec 7
Tam Coc, 4 nights, Dec 8-12
Dong Hoi, 3 nights, Dec 12-15
Hue, 3 nights, Dec 15-18
Hoi An, 6 nights, Dec 18-24
Beach Hoi An, 9 nights, Dec 24-Jan 2, 2020
Quy Nhon, 7 nights, Jan 2-9
Nha Trang, 7 nights, Jan 9-16
Dalat, 5 nights, Jan 16-21
Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon), 9 nights, Jan 21-30
Phu Quoc, 10 nights, Jan 30-Feb 9

Cambodia

Siem Reap, 9 nights, Feb 9-18

Thailand

Krabi, Aonang Beach, 3 nights, Feb 18-21
Koh Lanta, Klong Dao Beach, 10 nights, Feb 21-Mar 2
Krabi Town, 1 night, March 2-3

Spain

Madrid, 1 night, Mar 3-4
Valencia, 9 nights, Mar 4-13

Wins and Losses

Wins

Traveling and exploring for 173 days was so much fun. So. Much. Fun.

The food. Food has got to be one of the best things about traveling.

Learning how to make do with little. Traveling on a tight budget and with a small backpack for six months will do that for you.

Walking through spectacular historical ruins, seeing amazing sights and breathtaking beauty, immersing in other cultures, and experiencing unforgettable moments (often embarrassing or comical- see previous posts).

L to R: Yangon, Myanmar at sunset / Ba Tu Bay, Vietnam / Sapa, Vietnam

L to R: Quy Nhon, Vietnam / Ta Prohm, Angkor Wat, Cambodia

Getting comfortable pivoting on a dime, making last minute plans. No time to research for days, weeks, or months…just dive in.

Enjoying almost six months of round-the-clock togetherness with Steve. We did “better than average” according to Steve, which, coming from him, is very high praise indeed. But seriously, I’d give us a straight “A”. We had a wonderful time together, including celebrating our 35th wedding anniversary in February!

L to R: Siem Reap, Cambodia / Ba Tu Bay, Vietnam / Evora, Portugal

L to R: Ninh Binh, Vietnam / Chiang Rai, Thailand / Yangon, Myanmar

Meeting and making friends with so many people from all over the world – both locals and fellow travelers.

Feeling like we’ve earned the title of veteran travelers! Can’t wait for the next trip!

Losses

When our Spanish hostess arrived on March 4th, well into the Coronavirus outbreak, to greet us and suddenly kisses me on both cheeks. WTF! No kissing strangers in the days of Coronavirus!

Missing out on that last 4-6 weeks of traveling. Not having time to visit Laos, Malaysia, Taiwan, or Bali – or wherever. There’s always next time.

People ask “What was your favorite place?” That’s impossible to answer, so we’d say, “Everyplace was the best place”. And that’s the truth.

The Oldest City in Thailand

Posted November 16, 2019

The Bus to Chiang Saen

Our bus to Chiang Saen was an hour late, so when it finally did show up, we were very happy (and relieved) to climb aboard. We settled in for our 6 to 7 hour bus ride that would take us to our destination, in the far north of Thailand. Chiang Saen is about 8 miles south of the infamous “Golden Triangle”, where the countries of Burma, Thailand, and Laos meet. It’s a sleepy, rural town, along the Mekong River, and is the site of a former Thai kingdom believed to date back to the 7th century.

Heading north, the bus stopped just after the two hour point at a little Thai open air food court / bus stop, complete with bathrooms.

First Stop

For such a tiny bus stop along a rural road in the middle of nowhere in Thailand, this bathroom sure did have a lot of stalls. There were probably fifteen. And I checked every one of them, pleading to God or Buddha or whoever might be tuned in for just one sit down toilet. Nope. Nada. All pit toilets.

Pit Toilet Defined

The Thai pit toilets I’ve encountered to date are white porcelain, raised maybe 8 to 10 inches off the floor. The toilet design includes two horizontal surfaces, one on each side of the hole (or pit). These flat surfaces, about the size and shape of a person’s foot, have a tread of sorts, presumably to keep the user from slipping. But the treads are smooth porcelain, and most often wet (let’s not go there), which, as far as I can tell, completely defeats the purpose of having treads. The smooth tread gives the user a false sense of security, as well as limiting the user’s stance.

Just Do It

I stared at my one and only option, the pit toilet. I didn’t have much time, since the bus would be leaving soon. The slightly elevated aspect of the pit toilet was perplexing, since it seemed to unnecessarily complicate things. I carefully placed my right foot in place, checking for slippage potential. It seemed alright, so I brought my other foot up. Now I was fully committed.

Then it happened. I peed on my foot. Just a little, and technically it was on my right heel and the back of my sandal. The one size fits all pit toilet, with a fixed stance (take it or leave it), obviously didn’t work for me.

Maybe with more practice I’ll get the hang of it. I’ll keep you posted.

The Night Arrival

After cleaning myself up as best I could, I returned to the bus and told Steve what happened. He looked at me, a little horrified, and I started laughing (somewhat hysterically). Oh well, these things happen. We settled back in and continued on towards our final destination, Chiang Saen.

Main Street

It was night when we entered town, around 7 pm, driving down the main street. We were wondering where the bus station would be in relation to our hotel.

Suddenly the bus pulled over and stopped. We were told this was the Chiang Saen stop, so we got off.

A small island of night activity in Chiang Saen

There was no bus station in sight, only a bus curb. We stood, looking very conspicuous, two tall white people standing on the side of the road under a street lamp, wearing Osprey backpacks (note: yes, in Thailand I’m considered tall). There was not a taxi or tuk tuk in sight, in fact, there weren’t even any cars in sight.

There was a little hub of lights and activity across the street and a block down. Some food stalls were still serving locals. Other than that, the town was deserted.

The Rescue Car

I called our hotel, and even though the woman on the phone spoke very little English, and I could barely hear her, somehow we communicated and she sent a car to pick us up. While we waited, two different local men at the food carts came over and offered us help. Neither man spoke English, but it was apparent they had noticed us (I wonder how they noticed us?), and we looked out of place (to say the least).

One even offered information about a hotel around the corner where we could stay for about $5 a night. It was so nice of them to go out of their way to try to help us. I shouldn’t have been surprised, we’ve found many Thai to be very helpful and genuinely caring.

Hunger Wins Out

Just crickets in every direction

It had been a long day, and we were hungry. After checking in at our hotel we walked into town, about a ten to fifteen minute walk. It was strange and uncomfortable walking through the deserted, quiet, suburban streets, after spending the past few weeks walking the intense, chaotic streets of Bangkok and Chiang Mai. All we could see were the long, empty streets illuminated by fluorescent street lights. All we could hear were crickets.

Suburbia

We walked by shacks, average homes, and even one section of beautiful, fairly large gated homes with gorgeous, small yards full of flowering bougainvillea. There were stray dogs everywhere, mostly large dogs, just like in other parts of Thailand. We startled one sleeping dog, which completely undid me, since I recently was talking about the horrors of getting a dog bite and having to deal with rabies treatments with a new friend we met in Chiang Mai, Gretta from Australia (shout out to Gretta!). Thankfully the dogs left us alone.

Thai Restaurant Protocol

We sat at a small, outdoor restaurant, called Friendship, on the main drag across from the Mekong River. There was a live band playing, singing in English. Their pronunciation was just slightly off, but the live music was a real treat.

The Menu

Our server handed each of us the multi-page menu, and then stood, staring at us. It’s a bit awkward, but we’ve encountered this behavior at other Thai restaurants too. We’re actually getting used to it, and at least we don’t have to wait for the server to return once we’ve decided, since they’ve never left.

There are several other interesting differences (from western restaurants) at Thai restaurants.

Good To Know

Firstly, the table setting does not include napkins, but instead there’s a Kleenex type box with pop up tissues on each table.
Secondly, at many restaurants, including Friendship in Chiang Saen, there’s a small, wooden, free standing platform, a few inches lower than the table surface, at the end of each table. I honestly thought it was a high chair, and was surprised to see one at each and every table. Now I know better. The little platform is a serving tray of sorts, where the server puts your drinks, ice, utensils, etc. It saves room on the table and the server doesn’t have to reach over the seated guests. It’s pretty ingenious.

And thirdly, in Thailand they bring out the food you’ve ordered as it’s cooked, in whatever order that might be. You and your dinner companion may end up eating at different times, and you might get your appetizer at the end of the meal, but everything is always hot and fresh.

Rickety, but Functional

We borrowed the hotel’s rusty, old bicycles several times during our three-day stay. Each bike had a metal basket. Mine also had a bell (that didn’t work), and a light (that didn’t work), and a flat padded seat just behind my seat, in case I made a friend who wanted to join us.

We visited ornate gold & silver adorned Wats (Buddhist Temples), went into town for meals, rode along the ancient city wall and the mighty Mekong River, and just tooled around. Chiang Saen is quite picturesque.

The Ruins

Most wats we’ve visited in the cities are refurbished, since they are a century or more old, but Chiang Saen’s wats are in “as-is” condition .

We saw tons of stupas (huge domed shaped structure), gold and silver multi-headed dragons, Buddhas of all sizes, and glittering golden wats (temples) as we bicycled along the backstreet lanes in town.

Many of the stupas are covered in moss and decaying, which, in my opinion, adds to their charm.

The Orange Moon

In the evening, a dozen or so street food vendors set up makeshift restaurants, including outdoor kitchens, along the Mekong river front. They cover the sidewalk in woven mats, creating a large “floor” for their patrons to sit on at low tables. Per custom, we took our shoes off before walking on the mat covered area.

We had a delicious meal, followed by a breathtaking, bright orange moon rising over the Mekong.

On the bike ride back to the hotel, the moon had risen even higher into the sky. It had lost it’s orange glow, but was as stunning as ever.

Street Markets

We happened upon two lively street markets while in Chiang Saen. One was a permanent market in town on the main street.

The other we encountered on our last night while out on an early evening bike ride. The Thursday night market (I’ll call it) occupied a huge field filled with food, vegetable and fruit vendors. And the entire back half of the field were clothing vendors.

Half the town’s population must have been at the market, purchasing their fresh fruit and veggies, picking up dinner for the family, or looking for that needed pair of pants – all in what was an empty field that morning.

The Hall of Opium Museum

Chiang Saen sits about 8 miles south of the very touristy Golden Triangle area, but it remains mostly tourist free. One day we took a Songthaew (pronounced Song-Tail), a converted pick-up truck with two rows of back benches, and the only public transportation in the area, up to the Hall of Opium Museum, a bit north of the Golden Triangle area.

The museum was very impressive, with a variety of mediums to help convey the complex and extensive history of the opium trade. It was well worth seeing.

Just Wait on the Highway

When leaving the somewhat remote museum, we were told by museum workers to go stand out on the highway and wait for a Songthaew. We stood for a few minutes, but looked up the practically deserted highway and decided it might be best to start walking.

Wild Boars, Tigers, and Tarantulas, oh my!

We headed towards the Golden Triangle area and civilization, wondering if there were wild boar, tigers, or tarantulas lying in wait for unsuspecting tourists walking along a lonely highway in the jungles of northern Thailand.

Actually, it was a great opportunity to get a closer look at a beautiful part of Thailand while other tourists whizzed by us with their hired drivers in their air conditioned Toyota vans.

The views over the jungle terrain across to Myanmar were gorgeous.

We made it back to Chiang Saen unscathed and ate a feast of street food we picked up in town, where the Songthaew had dropped us off. A great end to a great day.

The Language Barrier

For the first time on our SE Asian adventures, we encountered significant language challenges here in Chiang Saen.

Some communication highlights:

Check-In

The manager had memorized her check-in information, but beyond that, when I asked any question, she said some words that didn’t make sense (in English), smiled, and laughed.

The Pool

Heading to the pool one afternoon, I stopped in and saw the cook at the lobby desk (I’ll call her the cook, since she made our breakfast each morning and also worked in reception). I asked if they supplied pool towels. Blank look. I pantomimed a towel and pointed in the direction of the pool. Just as the manager had, the cook started laughing a hearty, full laugh. Right in my face. We held eyes for a few moments, then I turned and left the lobby. I guess I had my answer. I’d be using my REI travel towel at the pool.

T.P.

Another time I went to the front desk to ask for more toilet paper, as we were running quite low. The cook was there. I knew I was in trouble. I asked for a toilet paper roll. Blank look. I said “toilet”, then made the shape of a toilet roll with my hands. This wasn’t working, and I thought about giving up, but the alternative wasn’t pretty, so I had to use extreme measures.

I pointed to my behind. Still a blank look. Nothing registered. In the end (excuse the pun), I made my way around the counter so the cook could see my entire body, including below the waist. I proceeded to mimic sitting on an imaginary toilet, then wiping my butt with imaginary toilet paper. It was humiliating, but it worked.

Logistics

Since there was no bus station in town, and nothing helpful online, we asked at the hotel lobby for information on how to get a bus from Chiang Saen to Chiang Mai the next day. The cook and some random woman that was in the lobby (I think the cook’s friend) were trying their best to help us.

They started by getting up on a chair and taking the lobby wall clock off the wall. Then there was lots of pointing at the clock, and looking up to see if we understood, which we didn’t.

Next they talked very slowly to us in Thai (with more pointing at the clock), slowly repeating what was said, in case we might suddenly understand Thai on the second pass. We didn’t.

Finally, with the help of google translate, some more clock pointing, and some wild gesturing, we finally were somewhat sure we had things set.

Hopefully there’d be a tuk tuk to pick us up at 8 am the next morning, that would take us to some kind of bus out of town. Good enough for us.

My Thai

I know three words/ phrases in Thai, and they go a long way here.

I’ll type them phonetically, since that’s how I remember them. I’ve gotten pretty good at whipping them out, almost always using the right word at the right time.

Saw-wa-dee-kaaaaa: means hello, or greetings.
Cob-koon-kaaaaa: means thank you
My-pen-rye: means no worries , or no problem

I also use the multipurpose word, kaaaa. It’s like an acknowledgement, or saying “ok”.

That’s the extent of my Thai language abilities, but I apparently do a spot-on pantomime of someone wiping their butt, so there’s that. :0

Chai, Monk in Training

Posted November 3, 2019

“Chat With Monk“

Steve spotted the sign, “Chat With Monk”. And yes, that’s exactly what I wanted to do.

We’ve seen monks all over Thailand and Myanmar in their distinctive orange robes, walking in town, on the bus, in restaurants, and in Wats (Buddhist temples).

Monks are a mystery to me. They seem very private and keep to themselves. Now was my possibly one and only chance to actually talk to a monk and get the inside scoop, direct from the guy in orange (meant with the utmost respect).

Wat Chedi Luang

We were visiting Wat Chedi Luang, in Chiang Mai, Thailand, when we seized the opportunity to chat with a monk.

There were six round teak tables under a free standing shade canopy in the chat area. One monk sat at a table in front of a huge wall map of the world. He was the one and only monk there. He sat in his orange robe, draped over one shoulder, with the other shoulder bare. We walked over and sat at his table, in the shade of the canopy.

Monk in Training

The first thing I noticed was his youthful look and huge smile. I asked him if it was o.k. to ask his age, and he said, “that is a question that is common”, so I assumed that was a yes. He told me he was 18, and he was a Monk in training.

So Young

Chai decided to become a monk when he was only eight years old. He was born and raised in Myanmar, in the upper northeastern region. Chai was surprised to learn that we had just come from Myanmar yesterday. We had spent 4 nights in Yangon. He said he was from the far northeast of Myanmar, far from Yangon.

So, at the young age of eight, Chai left his family to live with the monks. He has been a monk in training for the past ten years. Ten years!

I wonder if he even remembers a life before becoming a monk.

Chai has lived at Wat Chedi Luang, where we were chatting with him, for the past five months. Monks move, live and study at different wats, with different teachers, as part of their training.

It’s incredible that Chai came to Thailand from Myanmar just under two years ago knowing only his Burmese dialect. He had to learn Thai, and is now learning English (and he’s quite good). In fact he was reading a copy of The Secret Garden when we stopped to chat with him. It was a learner copy, with some Thai text on the bottom of each page, to help him along.

Tough Circumstances

Chai said many monks go to the university, but he cannot attend the university because he is not Thai. He said his current teacher, a Monk, has a degree in Philosophy and Psychology from the Chiang Mai University. His current teacher filled the entire white board in the chatting area full of Buddhist wisdom, titled “Chat and Share”.

I asked if he would want to go to university in Myanmar, since he obviously valued education and couldn’t attend in Thailand. He told me he couldn’t do that either, because he is not a Burmese citizen. That surprised me because he had told me he was born in Myanmar. He explained that he is Shan. Shan are an ethnic minority in Myanmar and he is not considered a Burmese citizen, even though he was born in Myanmar.

Wow, what a wake up call to be chatting with someone in such circumstances. Although he was only eight at the time, perhaps that factored into his decision to become a monk, with his limited options in Myanmar. I’m not sure someone so young can understand their place in a restrictive regime, but just maybe he or his family did.

A Happy Monk

Chai seemed very happy with his decision to be a monk. He explained that monks always have the choice to stay or leave. He said that now that he is age 18, he has made the decision again, as an adult, to stay. I wondered if monks are typically committed for life, once they start on the monk path. He said some men are only monks for five minutes, one month, one year, or some are forever. And it sounded like there is no stigma if someone should choose to leave the monkhood.

Young Monks

Close-up of incredible detail, Wat Chedi Luang

I asked about the number of monks at the Wat. Chai said there are 50 “full” monks, and 200 young monks in training. Once he is age 20, he will be a “full” monk. So that means that 200 of the monks at the wat are under age 20. Wow, sounds like monk recruiting is going quite well.

Sunrise Donations

I wasn’t up at dawn….this is a stock image

Chai explained that the monks live on only donations and have no possessions (other than books to study and bare necessities). They get up before dawn and walk the streets of their community, each carrying a bowl for donations.

Buddhist devotees believe that offering alms secures them good karma in this life and the next. They also hope to bestow good luck on deceased family members by donating to the monks. As the monks pass by in the early morning hours, people put fruit, food, and money into their bowls. Whatever Chai gets in his bowl, he can keep for his needs.

The Cafeteria

I asked if the Monks have a cafeteria at the wat compound. I did think about whether I should use the word cafeteria, since it’s kind of a big word, and I’d been careful to use simple words as much as possible in our conversation. Chai looked confused and wasn’t sure what the word cafeteria meant. I explained that a cafeteria is a large room where the Monks eat together. And now Chai has a new word. You’re welcome.

Chai told us that people from the community volunteer to cook lunch for the Monks every day at the wat. Turns out Monks do not eat after midday, so their meager breakfast and community lunch are it for the day. No wonder most monks are so slender.

Fast Friends

I had read that women need to be very careful to not touch or accidentally brush up against a monk. It’s best to not even sit next to a monk on a bus or train, if possible. I had also read (I thought) that it’s not good form to take a monk’s picture.

By now Chai, Steve, and I had chatted for close to 45 minutes. I’d shown Chai pictures of where we live in Seattle, we showed him our city on the world map, we talked about snow and why it’s expensive to live in California and New York, and I showed him pictures of my kids and pets.

I felt like we were fast friends. Chai was so personable, open, and quick to smile. I really, really wanted a picture of Chai, so I went ahead and asked, “Is it ok to get a picture of you?”. He smiled widely and said a big, “Yes, of course, it is fine”, which surprised me, but made me very happy. I guess all my efforts to avoid taking a monks picture were unnecessary. Who knew?

The New Monk

By then another young monk, who I’ll call the new monk, who didn’t seem at all interested in chatting, had joined the table. The new monk sat consumed by some videos on his cell phone (I’m guessing even teen monks need screen-time limits – haha). Chai suggested that new monk snap a picture of us.

The Picture

To orchestrate the picture taking, Chai told Steve to join him on his bench. He made it very clear that I should stay on my own, separate bench, that had a gap of a few inches from his bench. It was important that I stay a safe distance from him. I wonder if he can hug his own mom. Probably not, and I didn’t think to ask until after we had left (but I did find out that he sees his family regularly – and had just seen his mom last week).

The new monk took our picture and handed me back my cellphone. I took a quick peek at the picture, and saw that Chai hadn’t smiled. He looked so serious and not like himself at all. I felt we had enough of a rapport that I chimed right up and said I really wanted a picture with Chai smiling, since he has such a nice smile. He smiled at that (of course), and agreed to retake the photo.

Good Karma

I’m so very happy that I had the good fortune (karma?) to meet Chai today. I have a new perspective and understanding of monks, their life and deep commitment, kindness, and their pursuit of nirvana.

It is an experience I will never forget.

To-Do’s in Bangkok

(By No Means a Comprehensive List)

Posted October 31, 2019

Walk Around a Bit

We typically do a ton of walking when we’re in a new city. The guidebooks say that Bangkok isn’t very pedestrian friendly, but I found that besides crossing the street (see “The Game Changer” post), you can and should walk around a bit while here.

Framed ornate pictures of the King next
to and over the street

Just a couple of minutes from our guesthouse, we came across a stunning park with manicured gardens, bright flowers, and amazing structures.

The major streets typically have a center island with a gigantic, ornately framed picture of the King, along with beautiful flower beds that are in perfect condition.

It’s funny to watch as dozens of motorcycles weave their way through thick traffic at every red light so they can gain that little edge, then take off as quickly as possible at the green.

Google Map It

When planning our day, we google map our planned destination and, if google says it’s under a 20 minute walk, we go for it. The shorter the distance the better, because it is consistently very hot and humid.

Unfortunately, more often than I’d like, we end up walking longer than planned, and I end up a sweaty, dragging mess of a tourist.

Thankfully, if this happens, there’s always an air-conditioned taxi or a open-air tuk tuk ride with our name on it just around the corner.

Explore the Klongs

Take a local river taxi and explore the Klongs (canals) that meander through the city. It’s a little tricky to find where to board the boats. What worked for us was to follow along a canal until we saw stairs going down to the water level. At every set of stairs to a pier there was a bustle of activity with lots of locals going up and down. Once we knew what to look for, it was much easier to find a pier.

There are lots of options to explore the Klongs. The river taxi, used by locals, costs between 9 and 19 baht depending on the distance (.30 cents to .49 cents), but barely stops at each pier. Customers must have their head “in the game” and leap on and off as the taxi slows at each pier. You snooze, you lose.

River Taxi Express

We chose the River Taxi Express service, which is geared more to tourists. It costs significantly more (around $6), but allows easier on and off loading. One price and we had unlimited hop-on and hop-off up and down one canal for the entire day. Now that we know how it all works, I think the regular river taxi would have worked just fine for us. Whichever you choose, just get out on a canal for a fascinating look at Thai life.

Visit Wats

Our first full day in Bangkok we visited the Grand Palace, Wat Pho, and Wat Arun. These are the three big tourist sites in Bangkok, the “must-see” attractions.

All the sites are sprawling complexes, that include the Wat (temple), and Stupas (dome-shaped structures erected as Buddhist shrines), and other assorted buildings. The Grand Palace takes the prize for biggest, but not necessarily best. Each temple is unique and absolutely worth visiting.

The Grand Palace

The Grand Palace is the one attraction that absolutely everyone goes to (or so it seems). It is incredibly crowded. It opens at 8:30 am, and it seems the best bet to avoid crowds is to arrive as close to opening as possible.

Wat Pho

Wat Pho’s main feature is a reclining Buddha built by Rama III in 1832. The Buddha is 150 feet long and 50 feet high, covered in gold leaf. To say it’s an impressive sight is an understatement. But don’t just go to see this Buddha, there is a huge complex full of incredible sites.

Head of reclining Buddha at Wat Pho
Feet end

Wat Arun

Wat Arun is across the river from the other two sites, so Kobkul, our guesthouse host, told us to take the river taxi. She explained where to catch the river taxi, but neither Steve nor I could remember the name of the Pier.

4 Baht to Cross the River
Ferry across the river with picture of the King

Somehow lady luck was on our side and we walked from Wat Pho for about 20 hot and sweaty minutes in the general direction of where we thought the Pier was. We arrived at the correct Pier, and were thrilled (to stop walking in the heat). We paid the 4 baht each (about .13 cents) and rode across the river.

Eat Street Food

The Metro

Steve immediately pointed out the “Bang Sue”
metro stop. Geez.

Kobkul, our Thai host, told us the best street food in Bangkok is found in Chinatown. The street vendors start at 8 pm. Kobkul recommended we take the metro system, since Chinatown is pretty far from the house. I was curious to see what the metro was like, since all the above ground traffic is a bit chaotic and uncontrolled. To my surprise, the metro is very modern, sleek, orderly, and clean. Our tickets cost 28 baht, or .92 cents, each way. It was a fast, comfortable, and air-conditioned way to travel under the city.

The Throngs

Coming out of the Metro, we walked a ways, not sure which way to go. Finally we turned a corner and we were suddenly in the midst of a throng of people and street vendors. So much activity, flashing lights, and noise. Thousands of people were jammed on both sides of the street. People edged along as best they could, squeezed between the food vendors, each other, and the cars. We joined the crowds and walked along, a bit overwhelmed by all the people and food choices.

Incredible, mouth-watering aromas wafted over us, changing every 10 steps or so. Every vendor had their own kitchen set up and was cranking out their specialty to the waiting crowds. Many popular vendors had long lines of waiting fans. Vendors cooked noodles and stir-fries in large, blackened woks heated by big gas-fed flames. Satay skewers sizzled on large BBQ’s. Dipping sauces bubbled on the stove. Everywhere I looked the vendors were cooking and prepping.

Mouthwatering

Admittedly, there was a large percentage of food that we just couldn’t identify. We weren’t even sure if some foods were desserts or savory, so we tended to stick with what is familiar, pot stickers and a noodle dish. The pot stickers were the best ever. Crunchy and fried, but not greasy, with a very subtle hint of sweetness to the dough. And the noodle dish, with the thick, chewy noodles and spicy garlic sauce was spot on. Wow, so good.

Absorb the Local Flavor

We stayed four nights in a Thai guesthouse, with a local, in a typical Bangkok neighborhood. We had an authentic experience that we wouldn’t have had in a hotel. And we saved a ton of money too. We spent $28 a night, which included a wonderful Thai breakfast, tons of tips from our host, and some special and unexpected treats, like lotus flower seeds Kobkul found especially for us.

Our choice probably isn’t right for everyone, but I loved it.

Meeting Kobkul

It was such a pleasure getting to know Kobkul, our guesthouse owner. She’s lived in this home for four years, but in the neighborhood for forty. Her house, named “Air Raid Shelter 3” on the Airbnb website, is located at 74 Machachai Road, just across the street from a famous Pad Thai restaurant, Thipsamai (that is mentioned in every guidebook, but really is nothing special).

Breakfast at the Guesthouse

Breakfast is served each morning at 8:30 am down in Kobkul’s cafe on the ground level. It’s not what I would typically call a cafe, it’s more like a coffee stop. She has a nice espresso maker and refrigerated display case full of drinks, that faces out to the street front. She serves coffee and cold drinks to folks passing by.

For our breakfast, we sit at one of the two tiny round wooden tables she has for her guests. There’s only one proper size chair, which I seem to always grab first. Steve sits on a tiny stool to my left (sorry, dude).

Kobkul sets two Bento boxes down on the table in front of us, one each. Our meal consists of hot rice (white or stir-fry), a bit of meat (chicken or pork), sometimes some cucumbers or spices, and some kind of fruit or muffin for dessert. And every day there’s a tiny baggie filled with a delectable sauce, sometimes spicy, sometimes sweet. It’s fun opening your little baggie to see what sauce you have that morning. Kobkul makes great coffee (I get mine iced because it’s so dang hot out), and often provides something small and sweet to finish out the meal.

Just Eat It

Dessert: Strange fruit wrapped in coconut
and little muffins cooked in banana leaf

To be honest, we didn’t always know what Kobkul served us. One morning there was a dark blob of something in and among my rice, meat, and sauce, and I had no idea what it was. It was a chocolate brown color and had the consistency of a solid, non-shiny, chunk of jello.

I tried a couple of small bites. It didn’t have much flavor. I asked Kobkul what it was. She kind of laughed nervously and said I may not like it. She said it was from a chicken, then she pointed up and down to her inner forearm. I have no idea what she was trying to tell me, and I have to say I felt really uncomfortable about the brown blob after that. I’ve done an extensive google search to try to figure it out, to no avail. Suffice to say that Steve finished the brown blob for me so I didn’t offend Kobkul. Thanks, Steve, I owe you one.

Update: After consulting with my sister-in-law, Ina, who is Indonesian, it turns out the congealed chocolate brown mass was chicken blood. Hmmmm…so glad I didn’t finish that up. So interesting how different foods are customary in different cultures.

The Guesthouse Shower

The guesthouse bathroom was a first for us, an “all-in-one” set-up. An avocado green toilet and matching sink, along with bright green tiles and plastic green flooring, make up the small, square bathroom. What makes the bathroom unique (to us), was that the shower head was mounted on the wall above the toilet, a little to the left.

A Wet Room

When you shut the door, the entire room became the shower. It’s called a “wet room”. When showering, everything inside the bathroom gets soaked including the toilet, walls, and sink.

We shared the bathroom with two nice 20-something women from France, who were traveling in SE Asia for two months. I never knew when I was going to encounter a sopping wet bathroom, and sit on a drenched toilet (and I’m sure they felt the same way). It really wasn’t a problem once I got used to the idea – it was just water, after all.

Take Precautions

Speaking of water everywhere, there really should be a warning sign posted in bathrooms like this (for us novices), reminding us to set the toilet paper, the towel, and eyeglasses (if applicable) outside the shower before turning on the water. I only soaked one toilet paper roll that one time (during a shower), I promise.

The Mantra

Perhaps a delicate bathroom topic, but worth mentioning, is that we can’t flush TP down the toilet. I’ve encountered this same issue in Mexico a few times. The plumbing just can’t handle the paper, so it is what it is.

Every time I sat on the pot I’d repeat my mantra, “Don’t put TP in the toilet, don’t put TP in the toilet, don’t put TP in the toilet”, until my business was complete and the TP was securely in the garbage bin provided.

Steve Wins

I only had to fish out the TP twice in 4 days, when apparently my mind wandered from my mantra. Steve only had to fish out the TP once. Steve wins.

Spicy Food: Special Note

Do not touch your face after sprinkling hot chili on your food using bare fingers. It’s a bad idea, unless you like having a burning, stinging face for about 30 minutes.

The Game Changer

Posted October 28, 2019

Crossing the Street

Trying not to get hit by a car, motorcycle, moped, tuk-tuk, or bicycle is a full time job here in Bangkok. You may think I’m kidding, but I’m not.

I’ve read about how crazy the traffic is in Bangkok, and I thought I was prepared, but I wasn’t. There are a zillion vehicles of varying sizes and speeds, all going as fast as they possibly can, with multi-lane streets, some up to 8 lanes across.

The Other Side

But the real clincher, the game changer, is that the Thais drive on the other side of the road. When I first realized this, I thought it was kind of cool. After all, I’d never spent time in a country where they drive on the left. What a novelty.

Unfortunately, I had no idea how much this would personally impact me, and so soon too. But when you plunk two sleep deprived Americans down in Bangkok, who are are carrying fairly large backpacks, then add in this seemingly minor fact of traffic going the opposite direction, it’s a potential recipe for disaster.

The Arrival

Let me explain. We arrived at Suvarnabhumi Airport in Bangkok, got some baht (Thai money), and found a taxi (no small feat).

After a 50 minute drive, the taxi driver pulled up and said something in Thai to our blank, unregistering faces. Thankfully he then motioned for us to get out of the car on the sidewalk side. Got it. We can do that.

Our Airbnb Guesthouse.
Cafe on the bottom, we’re one floor up.

The taxi driver drove away. We stood, surveying the situation. Stepping out of the quiet, air conditioned taxi into the street was jarring. Intense heat and humidity rudely hit us in the face, while chaotic commotion, honking, loud engine backfires, and motorcycle engines winding came from every direction. It was a little disorienting, to say the least.

Four Lanes

We were merely four lanes of traffic away from our Airbnb, just across the street. There was no crosswalk or signal in sight. Looking to our left, the two lanes of traffic closest to us were backed up solid to where we were standing. We took another quick glance at the street and the entire four lanes appeared to be clear, so we went for it.

The Crossing

We approached the center line in the street and hung back for a quick moment, checking to our right, verifying one last time that it was clear to cross. It was completely clear, so we started our dash across the last two lanes.

It looked like our street crossing would be successful and without incident. No biggie, we got this.

We were just entering the third lane of traffic when suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, there was fast movement to my left. I hadn’t even looked left. All my life experience told me that cars only come from the right. Big mistake.

The Finale

I now know the true meaning of the phrase “Like a Deer Caught in the Headlights”. All I could think of was, “We’re F*&cked”. I froze. I think it was only a second, but it is indelibly seared in my mind. That moment of sheer panic and disbelief, as a fast moving taxi, the lead in a pack of vehicles, was bearing down on us. It was dangerously close to hitting us.

Proverbial “Deer Caught
in the Headlights”

I’m not even sure what Steve was doing at that moment. It was every man for himself.

Somehow my brain kicked back into gear, the taxi (must have) slowed, and we made it to the far sidewalk.

Welcome to Bangkok.

Wins & Losses

Wins

> Enlisting Kobkul, our Airbnb hostess, to flag down a taxi and insist they use the meter. We get the uninflated taxi price when she’s involved.

> Having a sweet, older Thai man give us unsolicited advice on how to cross the busy street. Motioning us to follow along with him, he walked us across the intersection. He had a running dialogue going in Thai. We just smiled and shook our heads, “Yes”. He motioned how to stop the fast moving vehicles by authoritatively putting an arm up, as in “STOP”, while walking directly out into the fast moving traffic.

> Knowing from travels in other countries, that the very best way to cross a busy street is to shadow a local. If a local start crossing, we follow along, a step or two back in their wake. Works great.

> Getting the street crossing drill down-pat.

On a busy night in Chinatown, I took on a street jam-packed with cars, attempting to cross. Cars were crawling along, barely moving.

It was apparent that an approaching car wasn’t going to stop for me, but I stepped forward without hesitation, with my hand extended (in the STOP position), like I owned the road. The bumper came within a few inches of my thigh before coming to a stop. I kept moving. A woman behind me exclaimed an admiring, “Whoa”.

I hadn’t realized that a couple (of tourists) were following in our wake. I guess I earned that “Whoa”.

Losses

> Consistently paying double for a taxi or tuk tuk on the return ride “home” from our adventures around town (no Kobkul to help us). That being said, double of 40 baht ($1.10 USD) isn’t such a hardship.