flights

Bangkok was fun but hardly relaxing. It’s a shopping and partying destination mostly, and I’d like this trip to be about winding down, not winding up. The next time I visit, I’d like to go with a friend.

If Bangkok is New York City, then Vientiane is Tucson. The capital of Laos, nicknamed the jewel of the Mekong, Vientiane stretches along a lazy bend in the Mekong River, and its small size and slow pace are a welcome relief at the moment.

I only arrived early this morning (it’s just noon now). I booked my first night at the Hotel Day Inn, and I’ve just taken my first stroll around town. I stopped into several other guest houses and hotels to check availability, room features and prices. The Day Inn sits on a quiet side street, a few blocks from the river. At US$25 a night, my corner room is large, sunny and clean, with high ceilings, large windows a nice balcony. The staff is super friendly, and the free breakfast looks like it will be good. A few other places I checked out are cheaper (US$15-20) and/or closer to the river, but I like the vibe of the Day Inn, and I think I’m content to stay there.

The transliteration of the Lao language into western characters was done by the French, and so there’s an extra layer of decoding I need to do as an English speaker if I want to attempt Lao. In French, the letter J and the combination Ch are pronounced very softly (zzh and sh), and there is no equivalent to the English “W” sound, so Vientiane, for example, is actually pronounced “Wien-Chan”.

Proper Lao pronunciation, however, doesn’t seem like something I’ll have to worry about. Eeveryone I’ve run into so far speaks very good English, and there are tourists everywhere, so I’m not anticipating much of a language barrier. The cars here are left-hand drive (like Europe and the US), and the predominant vehicle is the pickup truck, so I’m not anticipating much of a culture shock either.

All in all, Vientiane seems much more familiar – and easier – than Bangkok was, which is surprising, and somewhat bittersweet. The only challenge will be money. The local currency is the kip, but the Thai baht and the US dollar are equally, if not more, popular. When I bought a little laundry detergent in a local shop, the price was marked in kip and I paid in baht – all the while trying to calculate the value in US dollars. Now my brain hurts.

It’s Christmas day here, ahead of the US. I’ve tried a handful of times to reach Angie’s sister, but I haven’t had any luck, so it’s a solitary Christmas for me.

Christmas music is everywhere here, but this seems to be mostly for the benefit of the ex-pats and travellers. For the Thai people, Christmas is merely a reason to engage a passing foreigner with a smile and a holiday greeting. For those who are selling things, Christmas provides something to spice up the sales pitch: “Get something for mom, for wife.”

I heard many variations on that theme today. I went to the giant, sprawling weekend market and browsed handicrafts, clothing and kitchenware. I bought some gifts for friends and family and a pair of sandals for myself. I also sampled a number of small snacks, including a papaya salad with “pickled crab” and some amazing barbecued prawns, which I dipped in the ubiquitous chili sauce (the reason Singaporeans think Thai food is too “sour”). Seeking a little relief from the heat, I also had some coconut ice cream served with sticky rice, white gelatin cubes, roasted peanuts and a drizzle of condensed milk. White and icy, it was definitely the closest thing to snow I’ll find this season.

My dear friends and family, you are on my mind, and I hope you have a beautiful day when the sun rises on your side of the planet.

Bangkok is a bustling, crowded, smoggy, lively, dirty, vibrant place, on par with any major world city. The roads are packed with cars, Tuk Tuks and little 125CC motorcycles. The sidewalks are filled with street vendors selling everything from knockoff designer products to hill tribe handicrafts.

So far, I’ve managed to navigate around the city via an assortment of modes. The Sky Train is easy but limited. I was able to take it to the river, where I boarded a boat up the river to the massive Wat Pho temple. Thailand’s oldest and most famous Thai (or “ancient”) massage school is there. Due to its popularity with tourists, it has moved to a more prominent location and raised its prices. Still, 300 baht (about US$8.50) for an hour of pulling and pummelling is a bargain.

From there, I hailed a Tuk Tuk and, with the help of one of the guides at Wat Pho, negotiated a ride to another wat (temple), then to Golden Mountain, then to the Sky Train station at Siam Square – all for 40 baht. Part of the deal was that we’d stop at a touristy shopping center, for which the Tuk Tuk driver would get a petrol coupon.

As for my chosen digs, I avoided the famous backpacker lane at Khao San Road in favor of slightly higher-end accommodations. The downside of that decision is that among the backpacker crowd, it’s usually pretty easy to connect with other travellers to find tour and meal companions.

There are plenty of eager companions among the locals, but the ones who volunteer for this duty are mostly working girls, and that’s not really my scene. Every bar and club seems to have a welcoming committee of these, although I can’t say for sure it’s not a couple of neighborhoods in particular. Last night I wandered the areas around Sukhumvit and Silom roads. Maybe I’ll branch out a little more tonight.

There are, of course, different degrees of “working”. Some expect simply to be treated to a good time – a nice meal, drinks, a gift or two. Others depend on the money they get for offering additional services, for which they typically earn more than the average Thai civil servant.

Well, I’m off to Thailand, Laos and Vietnam until 9 January. I had been planning to buy a motorcycle in Hanoi for my trip down the coast (apparently you can get a reliable Russian-made bike for less than US$500), but Tuesday’s Straits Times cover story was all about fatal motorcycle accidents, which has made me think twice. It seems that every time I get close to becoming a rider, I see a motorcycle accident, or read about one.

Anyway, motorcyclist or not, I’m off now. I’m not anticipating being able to update this blog very often while I’m away, but don’t be a stranger anyway.

Happy holidays my many friends. I love you all.

As a postscript, I registered my trip with the US State Department, and I received the following messages…
Continue reading ‘see y’all next year’ »

I called Thavy tonight to see if she was up for having dinner before I depart. She was game, and we met at one of the Italian restauraunts on Unity Street (by Fraser Place). There are two there, and I can never remember their names.

An older asian gentleman was providing the soundtrack, with the help of a mic’d acoustic guitar. He sang mostly Simon & Garfunkel tunes and had a voice like Mr. Bean. Very charming.

The restaurant was running a promotion where they were donating all proceeds from bottled wine sales to a local children’s charity. All wines were S$25 a bottle (which is good to begin with), and they were donating the entire S$25 to charity, as a holiday gesture. A local news team was there filming, and they asked Thavy and me to perform some toasts for the camera. First a two-shot, then a close-up of each of us. Thavy has an amazing face and is very photogenic, and I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t make the evening news.

Why bean town girl? Thavy is the child of a French woman and a Cambodian man. She was brought up in Boston but speaks fluent Khmer and French.

I have a few butterflies about my trip. It’s been a while since I was a solo tourist with complete control over my itinerary. I’ve been paying a lot of attention to gut feelings, and as I prepare to embark, I’m perhaps a bit more superstitious than usual.

In the past few days I’ve seen a number of black bird I’ve been calling ravens. I don’t remember having seen them here before, and I always thought that they were supposed to be a bad omen – a sign of death.

A quick google search, however, led me to several references that said in effect that seeing a raven is a sign of success when you’re about to embark on a journey.

Of course I can’t seem to find the references now, so that’s not good.

Despite the fact that it’s the rainy season here, Christmas seems to be very popular in Singapore. It makes sense. Singapore revolves around shopping. Christmas revolves around shopping. It’s a perfect marriage.

Here at Fraser Suites, Christmas music has been piped into the hallways and public areas for the last few weeks. My bathroom window faces the pool, and the shape of the building carries the music up into my apartment. Along the way, it gathers a considerable amount of reverb, which is extra creepy when applied to an Anne Murray rendition of Silent Night.

Orchard Road, the main drag of shopping, is decked out on practically a Times Square scale, and it’s nearly impossible to move around there – on foot or on wheels.

On Sunday, I walked by a church while services were in progress. The congregation was singing “O Come All Ye Faithful”, which sent me into a kind of Twilight Zone flashback trip. All the Christmas songs were a big part of my childhood. The songs are practically in my bones. I could sing the melody, the bass or the tenor part of “O Come All Ye Faithful”. I could sing all verses and not miss a word.

The Twilight Zone factor has mostly to do with the fact that all this is occurring on a hot, humid tropical island full of asian culture.

Friday night I went with D and some of her cabin crew friends to a club called Thumper. There were seven of us in all, and I bought the first round of drinks. Alcohol in Singapore is crazy expensive. The round of seven draft beers cost me around S$100. Lucky (or unlucky) for me, my round was followed by six beers paid for by my friends. One of whom knew a group of girls we met there celebrating a birthday – and in a happy enough mood to send a couple more drinks my way.

One of the birthday partiers was a magazine editor named Sally. Apparently, her magazine – cleo – is doing an “eligible bachelors of Singapore” piece, and she wants me to come in for an interview. I suspect it was just a ploy, but it would definitely qualify as my all-time best travel souvenir.

The nightlife in Singapore on the weekends just starts to get fun around 2:00, which is about when we left the very crowded Thumper and headed to a place called JJ Mahoney’s, where a decent cover band was belting out the standard Singapore potpourrie of genres. We danced for a while, and when I left, I had a few promises from the cabin crew for entry into the mile high club if I encounter them on a future long haul :-)

I was in a bit of pain Saturday and probably should have spent a quiet evening at home. By eleven, I was settling in with a book – comfortable, if a bit bored – when Thavy happened to call. She was feeling about the same, and we talked ourselves into meeting for a calm night out. We actually ended up at Thumper, which was considerably less crowded than it had been on Friday night. A cover band was playing RnB hits, and a group of fashion models was getting groovy on the dance floor.

Thavy (and a bit of liquid courage) persuaded me to join the models on the floor. They looked to be a mix of Aussies, Americans and maybe Singaporeans or Chinese. I imagined them to be on a bit of a world tour. Anyway, they were good dancers all, and lovely to look at.

By 3:00, the place was packed. The band was finishing up and turning the entertainment over to a DJ. I danced and chatted for a while with a beautiful Chinese lawyer. Thavy actually thought I left with the lawyer and texted me a naughty message from her taxi home, cheering me on. I felt a bit bad that I let Thavy leave without me, but I talked to her this afternoon and all is well.

Last month, Singapore Idol was the talk of the town. In the week leading up to the final episode, I couldn’t get into a lift or a bus without overhearing “who do you think will win?” or “I prefer Taufik” or “Sly is a typical ah beng ah.” I’m not just saying this to protect my uber-cool image, but I didn’t really watch the show. OK, I saw one episode. Taufik was the better singer, IMHO, and deserved to win :-)

Anyway, I started digging into the whole “ah beng” thing after hearing the term a couple of times and after Tracy told me she read it in a Straits Times reference to Sly. I had gotten the sense that it is not a flattering label, which is corroborated by the Coxford Singlish Dictionary:

“An unsophisticated Chinese boy, usually Hokkien. Stereotypically, he speaks gutter hokkien and likes neon-coloured clothes, spiky, moussed hair and accessories such as handphones or pagers, all of which are conspicuously displayed. He also likes to squat, even when a seat is available.”

And Ah-Beng’s Guide to Singlish:

“a no-nonsense simpleton stereotype that usually wears anything with bright-neon-colors like hand-phone, hair, car, etc. Available only in Singapore.”

When I encountered the term in the Straits Times, however, the context suggested Sly would not take offence. So I did what any dumb ang-mo would do: I asked a Singapore taxi driver.

He explained to me that ah-beng is simply a sort of style category that some people would apply pejoratively, others with pride. “Goth” or “dead head” are probably good linguistic and cultural equivalents. I asked him how I would spot an ah-beng in a crowd, and he said the hair would be the first thing to catch my eye. It would be a bit spikey on top, longish, and since many Chinese men can’t grow sideburns, he would have “borrowed” sideburns made by positioning some of his hair in front of his ears.

Interpolation: I’m caucasian, and I can’t manage sideburns either. Never tried the “borrowed” strategy though.

The second thing the taxi driver said I might see was a pair of flashy oversized sunglasses. Beyond that, he said the style of dress could be anything I might consider “slick”.

I also asked him about a female counterpart to the ah-beng, and he told me about “ah-lian”. When I asked what one of those looks like, he hesitated. “Harder to describe.”

“You know one when you see one?” I suggested.

“Corright. And usually she with an ah-beng lah.”

I visited the Socialist Republic of Vietnam Embassy today to apply for my visa. Last week I bought my plane ticket to Bangkok, and yesterday I booked my first two nights’ accommodation. I’m headed north for 17 days, starting next week.

I was overly ambitious when I began planning this trip. I had imagined travelling north from Bangkok toward Chiang Mai, then east into Laos, further east to Hanoi, south to Danang then west and north into Cambodia. That’s at least a two month itinerary I was trying to jam into just over two weeks.

My new plan is to fly to Hanoi after a few days in Bangkok and then travel south down the Vietnam coast at a liesurely pace. I’ll aim for Ho Chi Minh City and arrange a flight back to Singapore from there. If I don’t make it all the way down to HCMC, then I’ll see what kind of travel I can arrange out of Danang.

I’ll just have to save Laos and Cambodia for another time.