A vacation from the vacation

We're bracing ourselves for yet another countdown. In one sense it seems not that long ago that we were counting months, weeks, and days before this trip. Now we have but 10 mere days left to enjoy this trip. We've spent most of our time of late remembering the adventures, the friends who have come into our lives for a day or two, late nights waxing philosophical, the victories and defeats of our culinary quests.

We tried and failed to embrace the bohemian lifestyle in the south of Thailand. Our stormy outlook on the scene may have served to pave the way for the real storm that was to come. Our last three days in Ko Phangan were lit up with lightning, thunder, and a deluge of rain. The rain left the streets passable only if you were willing to wade through the eight inches of murky water. We snickered a bit to think how the rain must be spoiling things for the loud and lewd Israeli kids who filled the island. Perhaps such judgments were too rash as I think most of them were enjoying some brief reprieve before or after their compulsory military service.

The best part of Ko Phangan was Uli, the lovely Thai woman we met who offered us nothing short of kindness and generosity. We felt that it was the first time in all of our travels that we had a genuine encounter with a Thai person. She showed the patience of a saint in teaching me to count to 100 in Thai and learning a few other helpful phrases. When we parted she gave me a book to help me study my Thai.

One minivan ride, one ferry ride, one all night bus ride, and one short plane ride delivered us back to Chiang Mai in the north of Thailand. This is the place we love best. It's familiar sights, sounds, smells, and plethora of vegetarian restaurants have given us a vacation from the vacation. Here we met another Thai and had another wonderful encounter - a man named Ed who runs a divine little pizzeria. Turns out Ed is a University of Washington alum (Go Huskies!) and we had a nice evening talking over pizza, local politics and places.

This may be the last post from abroad. Our days are spent sleeping and eating and walking and talking. Nothing really remarkable or photo worthy for the folks at home. We land back in beloved Sea-Town early the morning of November 6th. We are eager to sleep in our tempurpedic bed and nuzzle our little orange Piggy cat

Photos - Last installment for now...

More scenes of George Town, Panang. We already miss the great Indian and Chinese veg food. We do not miss the $5 beer.

And here we have Mr. Morgan tucked safely into his mosquito net for his sleepless night in the jungle.

We are now cozy in our sea-side 4-plex - a place we can both be happy. I have aircon, and Francis is away from the crystal healings and the chi-work. And since we've relocated the the less popular Sunrise Beach we're not exposed to the boom boom thud of the dance music. Yep, it was much too loud. I guess we're officially old.

Georgetown, Malaysia

From KL we sojourned north to the island of Panang. Here we settled for a few days in the colonial town of George Town. First photo on the left is an abandoned colonial building. It was the first 4-storey house on the island. Over the years it housed a school and a hotel. Now the roof is caved in and the jungle is beginning to take it back. UNESCO better got to work!

Of course no pictorial representation of SE Asia is complete without a shot of a squat. That hose - yeah, that would be a bidet.

When we travel we have a penchant for going to certain type of establishment we NEVER visit at home - the shopping mall. Here I am next to a most curious display.

The remaining two shots are scenes of George Town, Panang. Hands down - this is the friendliest place we traveled. Everyone on the street said hello as they passed. Not because they wanted to sell us anything - they just wanted to say hello. So sweet! We also watched the launch of the first Malaysian astronaut. We thought it was quite a big deal, but Soma said it was really just a waste of tax dollars. The "astronaut" was nothing more than a state-sponsored space-tourist.

PHOTOS... Religion In Vietnam & Malaysia

To the left is a likeness of Confucius himself.

Next up - the Charity box at he Hanoi airport. How could I not give a few dong to the cause of "Especially Difficult Children?" After all - that has been my professional specialty.

Now we must give some semblance of equal airtime to the world's major religions. We've covered Buddhism & Confucianism. So it was necessary to visit the Museum of Islamic Arts in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. We were truly blown away by one of the most impressive permanent collections in any museum we've ever visited. It's the only one of its kind in the world and includes Qua ran from 9-10th Century North Africa, pottery from 12-18th Century China, textiles from 18th-20th Century Malaysia and Indonesia, and war regalia from 16th-19th Century Iran. My favorite collection included the stunningly hand-calligraphic Qua ran.

There I am in front of the National Mosque. You're very aware that you're not in Kansas (or Seattle for that matter) any more when every hotel room ceiling has an arrow pointing to Mecca.

And last but never least we spied a few Hindu temples. Our hotel in KL was across the street from the oldest Hindu temple in the city. A few nights ago we met a wonderful and brilliant man named Soma who was able to explain the rationale behind the constant cracking of coconuts outside the temple. The coconut is a symbol of (wo)man. The outer shell - our physical selves and the inner milky goodness - our souls. The coconuts are cracked at this particular temple as an offering to a deity (whose name eludes me after a night of much wine at the Sanctuary) before embarking on an important task - (opening a business, traveling, marriage, etc.).

PHOTOS!!! Vietnam Part 1

To the left we have the Catholic Cathedral in Hanoi, Vietnam. No, we did not go to mass.


Next up - Francis with a US Navy plane downed in Vietnam in 1972.

The carnage includes various downed aircraft at the Vietnamese Military Museum. Planes and helicopters represent the Vietnamese struggle against the French, British, and US forces over the last 50 years.

Here we have ancient sculpture at the Temple of Literature in Hanoi.

Migrant Monkeys go Bohemian

Empty promises abut the photos, folks. There appears to be some breakdown in my technological skills. I'll keep trying, though... I am nothing if I am not persistent.

This latest installment finds us in Ko Phangan, a little island off the east coast of Southern
Thailand. We slowly worked our way up from Malaysia, through a handful of po-dunk towns where nothing remarkable occurred.

Yesterday we took a bus and a ferry to the island with the intention of spending a week or two at a secluded beach resort called the Sanctuary. We had to take a long tail boat from Hat Rin (the infamous full moon party beach) to Hat Tien. There are no roads into Hat Tien. You either hike 8 kilometers through the jungle or pay $3.50 per person to cruise the sea in a long tail. When we arrived at The Sanctuary we were dismayed to learn that the bungalows were booked up. A few houses were available. Rather than schlep back to Hat Rin we splurged on a $45 jungle house.

Our accommodation was nestled at the top of a windy path, built right into the rocks. We had a kitchen, with a gas cook top, some Nescafe packs and tea bags - but no implements for boiling water. We also had a hammock and a pampason chair that a family of spiders decided to nest in. The house did not have walls but looked right out into the jungle. Fortunately the Sanctuary did provide a mosquito net. (This area is not malarial but dengue fever is a risk.)

At least one migrant monkey could not handle going bohemian and did not dig on sharing space with critters. Various exotic bugs strolled our floor, we had to watch out for scorpions and centipedes (they bite), and the mosquitoes loved the bathroom facilities (complete with squat toilet). Guess which migrant monkey didn't get a wink of sleep for fretting about the critters? You may be surprised... (He would claim it was just a general insomnia.)

The other monkey was kept awake well into the night from the boom boom thud of the dance party on the beach. The music filled the valley and was swept up into our jungle paradise. Silly us to assume the jungle would provide a quiet respite. I took solace in an 11 AM check out time and planned on sleeping in. However, I learned that it's impossible to sleep in when you're in the jungle and the sun streams into your hut through the non-wall at 6 AM.

I tried to warn Francis that the Sanctuary was a little granola - a skosh hippie-dippy. I'm not sure what he envisioned from my cautions, but he was not prepared to stay in a place that offers classes on crystal healings. (The yoga and meditation courses were a stretch.) "What sort of wounds are these freaks nursing that they need so much healing?" We're back in Had Rin, scurrying about to find a quiet resting place as our hard-partying days have been over for at least a decade now. I suppose the lesson we have learned is that we like the beach life in theory. In reality the sun and sand and boom boom thud is not quite our thing. We're going to give it a go and see if Phangan has anything to offer a couple of 30-somethings who hail from the land of coffee and rain.

Migrant Monkeys in Malaysia

I see that we've spoiled you all terribly with our (my) frequent posts and beautiful photos. Sorry no photos in this posting. As soon as I'm able - I'll do an all photos posting with annotations. In the interim (as I hunt out an internet cafe that will read my camera card) I wanted to let everyone know that we're fine. Alive. And well-fed.

As I am terrifically fond of counting things (it brings order to an otherwise chaotic existence)- here are my latest calculations. We've slept in 23 beds and eaten in 100 restaurants. We've read 24 books. We've handled five different currencies and stumbled through six languages. We've ridden on 2 dozen buses, three trains, and two airplanes.

Our final days in Hanoi were spent wrapping up the museum circuit. A visit to the Vietnamese Military Museum left us feeling a sort of admiration for the Vietnamese who fought against one oppressor or another for seven plus decades. Their independence was secured only after the entire nation stood together - old and young, wealthy and poor, men and women - to defeat a great giant. And victory came only after Uncle Ho passed away in 1969. It was humbling.

Last stop in Hanoi was the Temple of Literature - a Confucian University with buildings dating from the 11th century. (Await the photos with bated breath.)

Our flight to Kuala Lumpur (KL), Malaysia was less momentous for us than it was for our fellow passengers. 95% of those on board were Vietnamese laborers being sent to KL for work. It was quickly apparent that most of them had never before been on an airplane. They were clearly inexperienced in fastening seatbelts or remaining seated during take off and landing.

KL was refreshingly clean, generally free of honking horns, with passable sidewalks, and enforced traffic laws. And I've found the Malays to be some of the sweetest and kindest people we've encountered in SE Asia. Rather than scowling at me and barking orders - the immigration officer actually smiled and wished me a pleasant stay in the country. When we've been clueless on buses or on the streets - inevitably some lovely Malay comes forward to help us out.

We've been thrilled with the cuisine options. Our hotel in KL was tucked in between China Town and Little India. Chance and good fortune led us straight to the doors of an all veg Indian restaurant. The staff were exceedingly patient and helpful. We ordered blindly - unfamiliar with everything on the menu. Our super-friendly server walked us through the proper procedures. Food arrived on a tin plate with a banana leaf and 10 tin cups of various delectable items (none of which I could describe to you now). After eating up the flat bread, our banana leaf was piled high with steamed rice and dal. Traditionally this meal is eaten with the fingers. You use your fingers to scoop out the food, put it on the leaf, mix it up with the rice, and pop it in your mouth (right hand only - left hand is for unclean things). However, as the only foreigners there- we got a wink and a spoon. Francis described the meal as like Ethiopian food - only good. We were good-naturedly teased throughout the meal and sent off with a head waggle - an Indian gesture I once spent time perfecting with an old office mate (shout out to Sher-Bair).

Cleanliness and order do not come without a price, and we've over-extended our budget a bit in Malaysia. This predominately Muslim nation is no place for sinners - cigarettes and beer are enough to break the bank. Beer in (unbelievably - gasp) twice what it costs us at home, and white wine is nowhere to be found. So, with our love of sin and limited funds - I expect we'll be on our way back to Thailand shortly - blowing through here like the rains that have been following our SE Asian tour for the last two weeks.