Should have brought more shoes...

Well, it's been a few days, but in that time we've travelled to another far off place, learned a new language, and sanders man-bits have healed up nicely. We celebrated leaving sweet little Pai by popping some gravol and holding on tight, since the same road we headed in on - with it's hairpin turns, and extra nauseating twists - was the same road we headed out on. The bus rolled into it's border town drop-off a mere 8 hours later, and we staggered to bed. Of course, it wasn't 'til morning that we realized we had no idea where we were. No problems there, though, since for every two steps a white person with a backpack takes, fourteen dudes in flip-flops and bad haircuts yell "tuk-tuk?!" ... "where you go?! Tuk-tuk?!" We did the bargaining dance: stand feet shoulder width apart, smile sweetly at your dance partner, shake your head from side-to-side, make hand gestures that don't seem to be too offensive, and pretend to walk away. Works every time.

Border crossing to Loas, no problem. Forced to spend the night in Huay Xi because of the time of our arrival, we shacked up in a cheap place, whose rooftop had an unbeatable view of the mighty Mekong river. Here we marveled in the unforgettable combination that is: Beer Lao + misty pink sunset. With a few postcard-worthy pictures under our belts we packed up early, since like alot of the other suckers, we were told our scenic slow-boat to Luang Prabang departed at 10am. After four coffees, three hours, and two failed attempts at not peeing on my own shoes in the squatter-toilet, our longboat lurched off the sand.

The boat was crammed full of backpackers, and we picked up some locals and their animal cargo along the way. The strange folded mountains, sweeping sand dunes of dry riverbed, and playful local kids kept our cameras at our noses for two days. I sat on the bow of the boat absorbing the scenery and the sunshine, while a 90 year old Loasian man, who spoke no English, hussled Sander in an endless game of cards.

Slaughter

Pictures speak the words...

Photo Mish-Mash

An elephants spine is no place for your testicles...

.... And Sander learned this the hard way, and after a long day of bare-back elephant riding, he is waddling like a pregnant girl with a broken Coccyx. I spent my time on the elephant grinning and recounting my blessings:

A) my decided lack of testies;
B) and being a woman, and naturally tougher.

Thom's Elephant Camp recovered their amazing creatures from the Thai logging industry after it went belly up. Gentle and sweet, but a force to be reckoned with, our elephant (who I nicknamed 'Squeek') had a wicked sense of humor. After being forced to listen to Sander complain about the comfortability of her back, she had the good sense to dump him in the river. What elephant could resist? Sander is just so tiny! That said, I quickly found myself unceremoniously flying ass-over-tea-kettle into the bubbling water as well. We played and splashed, and played some more, with the little Thai 'Keeper' goading the elephant to blast us with her trunk. Drenched in elephant snot and river water, we happily headed back. In the last 30 minutes the Keeper told Sander that sitting on the neck was more comfortable for men. Didn't he know? Silly Sander. Lurching side to side and considering it my 'core' exercise for the day, I happily picked river weeds out of my teeth all the way home.

Slaughter

Bus to Pai - Type R

So, after a few busy days in Chiang Mai, we decided to slip up to the 80's hippie refuge of Pai. I could not imagine trying to get here with a VW bus. The road from Chiang Mai is a bit of a local bragging topic, as it's only 140 km, has 762 curves, and shound take an aggressive driver about 4 hours to cover. We did it in under 3. Our driver was nodding off for the first hour (maybe the road was too straight there?) but after a short rest stop, things got interesting. Maybe the racing steering wheel modification and the Type R cell phone holder should have tipped me off from the start, but this guy was sure he was in the grand prix. Lane lines were only there to make the road prettier, and crossed simply because the asphalt 'looked smoother over there' or something. He made the tires squeal in a 10 passenger minibus! Anyways, we made it alive after Sarah convinced me to think of it as an amusent park ride. But here is our real dilemma: either we get back in the van and do it over again, or rent a scooter and brave the road on our own, and deal with the dozens of oncoming busses in our lane delivering another group of terror stricken travellers to Pai. The lesser of evils may be dealing with just one crazy driver.

In Pai we found a little riverside hostel called The Golden Hut. It's built of unfinished lumber, on a concrete pad, with mesh in the windows, but gaps in the siding I can put my hand through. Authentically Thai, and perfect. As warned in our guidebook, Pai is a but played out, but there are still some signs of the towns former glory. This is the first town we have seen any authentic craftsmanship in the sea of 'handmade' Thai souvenirs. Even if they are nestled in among the start of another bangkok style market. I'm still not sure if it's sad or amazing that's it's sometimes very hard to tell between the two.

No matter the content of the local market, there is a marked culture shift in this town. Bartering is all but absent, the pace is slow, and the local enforcement (and i dont mean Sting) is singing a Thai rendition of happy birthday in the bar across the street... In uniform. Amazing. This is the Thailand i came to see. Big smiles, great food, cheap beer and elephants...

Sander

Look out for that Monk, idiot!

With a whole day of feeling much too safe for my liking, I decided to perfect the art of pedal bike photography while enjoying a sloppy hot day in Chiang Mai. Unable to find a steezy fixed-gear that would make my little brother proud, Sander and I settled on rented bikes that looked like a gypsy had stripped them, and re-built a monster for their least favorite cousin. I say this because the builder maliciously made one handle-break a "fast stop" and the other a "slow stop." Not knowing this, in the midst of an especially good drive-by photo of a cat licking a Buddha, I hit the fast break and hit my lady-bits very efficiently on the handle bar.

Stop laughing. I have an inappropriately placed bruise.

We spent lunch at a heavenly Vegetarian Society cafeteria; what I figure is a soup kitchen for the very compassionate who are low in iron. It was fabulous and cheap. We finished our day at the Womens Correctional Institution. One of Thailands princesses, whose name is a jumble of consonants with a vowel thrown in here and there for good measure, designed a restitution and rehabilitation program for female inmates. Specifically, to teach them a trade (from practical handy crafts to massage) that will ease their reimmersion and legitimize their contribution to society. Fascinating to us Sociology nerds, even more so in my case with the mention of 'massage'. For 150 baht ($4.50 CAD) these women provide a 1-hour traditional Thai massage, or Thai foot massage. Of course, I simply could not resist having a murderous maven at my feet giving me a good rub. What this says about my own psychopathy is up for debate.

Finish with a cold Chang beer, rinse, and repeat.

Slaughter.

Lady-boy, take me in one piece.

Sander did not fit in the night train because he is a giant, and I will confess, his eternal struggle with Thai architecture is a source of great amusement for me. But as he aptly mentioned, we did manage to make it out of Bangkok. In a tuk-tuk, the infamous 3-wheeled speed cart of death, we wove between lanes and trucks, tore up corners at top speed, and landed a few sweet jumps. If I was cooler, and could have released my knuckles from the side rail they were imbedded in, I would have high-fived one of the many pedestrians we almost killed. Failing that, I laughed uncontrollably at our driver who would excellerate and then come to a dead stop, only to run his lady-boy hands through what he must consider his glorious mane. Yeah: it's messy. You have no windows. Finger comb, fluff, drive towards death. Repeat.

I might just miss Bangkok now that we're gone.

Who am I kidding. Does anyone have a clean pair of shorts?


Slaughter.

Hello world, sander here...

Hello all, now from Chiang-Mai. I'm not sure if it is officially hyphenated or not, but if you are a Thai scholar, please feel free to correct me. The roosters managed to escape sarah's wrath; as it turns out they were residents of the next door 'wat' or temple, making them holy roosters. No wonder the gall. Just before our exit from khoa-San, the Thai 'red shirts' decided to stage a protest at the nearby democracy monument Made famous back in June of 2010. We managed to convince a daring yet vain tuk-tuk driver to take us for a reasonalble price, as the main route to the station would have taken us straight through the throng; The detour only cost us about 20B. I have not read any news about the protest yet, so this may be the most overstated, or understated, account published on the subject.

The night train to Chiang-Mai was un-eventful and sleepless. The upper bunks we were able to secure on short notice were obviously not sized 'north-american'. Measuring less than 6 feet clear from wall to wall, stretching would have meant flirting with the 6 ft fall to the aisle of the swatting tim canister. Please don't mistake this for complaining, I chose this road and every hardship has it's root in my desire to save a buck and do it 'on the cheap'.... Flights to Chiang-Mai start at about $80. :-)

1 week down, about 45 to go.

Sander

Made it to Bangkok

After 32+ hours of flying and some minor snags along the way (as per usual stand-by procedures), we made it safely to Thailand. Objective one; accomplished. We found a hostel that is noisy, albeit clean. I am currently plotting a zip-tie-to-throat revenge scheme aimed at the rooster family who are ... roosting ... right outside our window. Both of us were releived to find that nothing in SE Asia has changed in our absence - everything still smells like an oil-seared wok sitting un-used in the blazing sun with a wet cat missing 2 legs napping in it. Thank god.
In out haste to enjoy as much green and red Thai curry as possible, we overlooked the need to book a long distance train in advance, and so, will not be leaving Bangkok until Feb. 12. We are soon headed due north, to Chiang Mai. After that, we try our luck at a Laos border.

Sander is currently proof reading a European author's latest work, on the computer next to us. Proof reading, down the propper spelling of the word "tits". Needless to say, the backpacker area in Bangkok (KhoaSan Road) is crawling with .... neat people. Dare I say, people watching here is more fascinaing than the Thai people themselves.

Will update you promptly. Excited to be getting out of Bangkok. (Since prostitutes and bad western breakfasts aren't my thing.)

Stay classy,
Slaughter.