Dear All

There is a scam coming out of Bangkok that can burn through the pockets of tourists as they head for Seam Reap - the city that connects to Angkor Wat. This scam is well documented in the Lonely Planet but is still often fallen for. The ticket to Seam becomes very cheap, the rumor is that it is better to get your visa at the border of Cambodia so you jump on board thinking you’ve got the best deal going. At the border, a man walks onto your bus claiming the processing for the visa will cost 1300 Baht instead of 1000 Baht or US$20 as is the normal price. Then, as your are down by 300 Baht the bus crosses the border and slowly makes its way to Seam Reap, stopping often especially at the Saxophone intersection (for Battabang and other places) and then arrives in an awkward time in the middle of the night at a guesthouse which you must stay at seeing as though it is impossible to get anywhere else at that time of night - losing more money and the freedom of where to stay as well as needing to move again the next day. Knowing this and with a lot of inspiration from Kent and Wakako, I set off to do the trip on my own power.

In SE Asia, it is sometimes cheaper to do the hike from one city to another using the “tourist bus” system and sometimes it isn’t. It’s a back and forth game of penny pinching vs. effort vs. time. This equation gets played back and for those long term travelers who know that a dollar saved today is a free meal tomorrow. This time was the time to do it myself so upon returning from the hedonistic playpen of Koh Pha Ngan (using a tourist bus system), I found the cheapest agency to get my Cambodian visa and waited the two days for it. The advantage to having a Khao San Area is that you can bump into old friends without much effort and this time it was Kent and Wakako - the super travelers from Japan who have crossed the entire Eurasian continent where I met them first in Hsipaw, Myanmar and now again here in Bangkok. They laid the plan on me. Take a train from the central Bangkok station and head to Aranya Prathet and sleep the night. From there, we cross the border by ourselves and then hire a taxi-truck to get us to Seam Reap. Sounds easy enough.

The train takes 5 hours and for the 48 Baht is cost to cross to the border town, it was a deal of a century. Half the work done without sweating. The trains in Thailand are quite good and the seated 3rd class is very cheap. Kent and Wakako had left the day before - they say that the Japanese love border towns and so there were heading down early to get a day in. I met Kent at the station and he directed me around until we found the cheapest hotel in the city - well not so cheap about 150 Baht for one person but I am still up on the ticket from Bangkok. The border city of Aranya Prathet is a mega city compared to those that are passed along the way. From tiny village with houses made from plank walls and corrugated metal roofing with dirt roads comes this town of concrete, ATMs and enormous border market selling goods ranging from army uniforms to cheap toy junk. A relatively uninteresting city but large for a border town. There must be more happening here that meets the eye.

The next morning, we arrived at the border crossing. The market rolls right to the edge of the city and as the few tourist walk to the border, swarms of children approach begging for money as the touts try to grab your attention to get you to their taxi-pick up to take you wherever you need to go. The children are obviously Cambodian. The amputees I have so often heard about become more prevalent as the border crossing station comes into sight. The area is swamped with people walking in and out. Cambodians mixed with Thai mixed with white Western backpackers are crammed up against the windows of the arrivals and the departure buildings, each on their own independent sides of the road. We walk through the doors to approach a huge queue of people waiting to cross. I finally get my turn but in a moment that lacks reason, I lay down both my passports - my new one with the Cambodian visa in it and my old one with the valid Thai entry stamp. I feels a sense of beurocratic doom as the stamp officer sits and wonders why I have two passports presented to him. He sits and shifts through the two books and I show him the reasons why I have them both. He gets out of his wooden box home and directs me to the arrivals section and a door next to it where stuffy button down non tie wearing officials sit bored as their teller type counterparts frantically deal with the manic traffic of exciters waiting to be processed. The man I am set in front of disheartenly puts his newspaper down and begins to recopy my details onto a paper, took a passport photo of me and charged me 20 Baht for photocopying my passport details. As I paid it laughing inside as the red tape of Thailand has done their best to squeeze that little bit out of me. I return to the queue for the departures. Sweat is running down my forehead and back and is soaking the area of my shirt which touches my bag. It is a hot day and the bright sun doesn’t help the wait. The queue this time to depart is longer than when I first got there and a third desk has magically opened so that the queue doesn’t push out the front door. I finally return to the main desk and though the officer still tries to connect his left and right eyebrows together in a statement of confusion, the pieces eventually come together and my double passport ordeal is finally over after over an hour of waiting. Wakako and Kent have been patiently waiting for me at the other side - that being the no mans land between countries where there is huge casino taking advantage of the lawless border. We walk, still followed by touts and past some landmine victims to the Cambodian side.

For those using this as a tool to help them with their travels, know that the border doesn’t accept US dollars, that being the cheapest option to pay for your visa so instead you must pay US$25 but as Thai Baht (i.e. 1000 Baht). It is better to get this visa in Bangkok.

Speaking of visas, there are some new rules that will add a considerable extra cost to my trip. Laos has eliminated their 15 day visa policy. For Canadian who pay the most for their 30 day visa, it makes more sense to get two 15 day visas instead of one 30 day visa - though it does mean returning to Khaosan Area which was the original part of my plan. This means that when I get to Hanoi, I will have to decide on what is the cheapest way to get back to Bangkok as the visa for Laos is now US$45 at the border instead of 30. I’ll deal with that bridge when I get to it.

We finally make an agreement with some touts to take us to Seam Reap, non-stop for 150 Baht. For 200 Baht, Wakako and Kent chose the inside air con cabin of the truck while I decided to ride like the locals in the back with all the vegetables, fruit and sacks of rice which eventually gave me a glorious sweet spot to lay and watch the sky. It felt like a magnificent throne, comfortable and fascinating. With my back against the direction of driving and my hat to block my face from the sun, I eased easily into the trucks open mouth and watched the scenery go by. The differences between Cambodia and Thailand become obvious right from the start. The wooden planks and corrugated metal housing become bamboo and thatch huts. The road stops becoming paved and turns a deep red dirt path similar to that of Australia’s outback. The road is littered with potholes and there is garbage lining the side. I am brought back to memories of the subcontinent - the filth that the Indians live in and the touting that it resembles. These are probably some of the worst roads I have been on for a long time. The dust fires out from the back tires of the truck in front as their exhaust mixed with the red dust to produce this dark red poisonous soup that burns your eyes and tickles your nose. After an hour of so of driving we arrive in Sisophon - the intersection we insisted on skipping in our deal with the tout. Remember, non-stop driving. We knew of this intersection and we wanted to pass it but the communication between the driver and the tout broke down somewhere and no matter how angry we got with the driver, we knew we couldn’t win. We switched trucks - our truck heading back to the border and the new truck heading to Seam Reap but as we hadn‘t paid yet we needn‘t pay more. Now instead of lying back and relaxing out cool I was sitting upright and holding on for dear life as the potholes became worse and the driving more sporadic. The dust flew even higher now and, to add to the issue, up ahead was a rain storm. It was a beautiful sight to see a storm in the distance, watching the rain border as is faded out from areas of deep downpour to full sunshine. We, that is two Swedish girls and I as Wakako and Kent were in the cabin again, watched the storm while under a clear sky but eventually the storm creeped up on us and the rain fell in giant drops caking the red polluted dust to our clothes and skin. We landed in Seam Reap, laughing at ourselves and our state at a pleasant little guesthouse just south of the city.

Seam Reap is the clearest example I have ever seen of a tourist trap. Broken down shacks and dirt little villages are replaces instantly with five star hotels with well groomed gardens and golden trim that leads to wonderful full comfort rooms. It is a twisted contrast of the rich and the poor - an unfair distribution of wealth where the ignored must deal with their dust roads and the blessed get to drive smoothly. The city is filled with bicycles and motorbikes and the occasional car. Seam Reap has significantly more motorbikes and bicycles than cars indicating that there are a substantial number of poorer people who live and work in this city. More cars means more wealth. After a long grueling ride and a well deserved shower, I took to bed early that night. I needed to sleep over a decision.

Before I left Bangkok, I had left a deposit for a flight ticket to Los Angeles to arrive a few days before the Burningman Festival. This ticket costs US$730, the Burningman Ticket cost US$250 and all the other expenses to get down, live, party, fuel etc… would bring the total to US$1500. As impulsive and adventurous as I was feeling at the time of purchase, I began to realize that this is a huge amount of money that could be spend elsewhere though I doubt for a better personal purpose. Thanks to ‘99’, a good friend of mine whom I met two years ago at the festival, I had a way to get to the festival and a place to crash. I sadly made up my mind to pass again this year as I called the agency to cancel my ticket. It is just not economically feasible or reasonable to go especially when I am planning to start a new life in Israel shortly. For any sympathetic philanthropist who wish to get me to the festival, please donate to Send Oren to Burningman (SOB) charity fund. All SOB donations to the cause would be gratefully appreciated. Thanks 99 for all your generosity and I will hopefully see you next year.

Seam Reap isn’t a fantastic city at all and with the humidity and heat reaching unbearable levels here in SE Asia, it was very difficult to go exploring. The same stereotypes follow here as in other tourist traps. There are overpriced restaurants and guest houses everywhere. The restaurants have pictures of the food on sandwich boards whose concept is repeated down the road for every other restaurant. There are travel agents and ticket booths as well as little convenience store for little convenience. There is a market where I bought a brand new LP fake for 2 dollars and other faked books. There is a nightlife scene here but I didn’t discover it. My bones are still crushed from the hours of dancing I put into the Full Moon Party. There is no way to get to Angkor Wat by foot as the main city and the ruins are a fair distance apart. At 5pm, the Angkor Wat becomes free to enter and, in typical tourist style, you buy a ticket for the following sunrise and see the sunset twice. Once at the free 5pm time and again the next day. Hiring a tuk tuk is the only way to do it. In this part of SE Asia, this wat was what I have been waiting for - something of serious interest and awe to amaze me. It did.

Angkor Wat is not just a single wat or temple but a series of reconstructed or dilapidated ruins spanning over many kilometers that can take hours to get from one end to the other. There is a small circle of main temples that can all be viewed in a day and a typical tourist trail that all the taxi drivers know and can take you to without you even saying a word. The day starts the night before with sunset at the mountain temple of Phnom Bakheng. The hordes of tourists that flow onto the mountain side temple didn’t add to the fact that the sunset this time of year is very disappointing even though the postcards promised a glorious sunset of amazing colour. We got a simple smear of red that evaporated almost instantly upon arrival so, with that, we headed back to the hotel to catch the 5am sunrise at the temple which gives the area its name - the Angkor Wat.

I am not going to go into the history of each wat as there are guides and guidebooks that can help you with this but I heard a good quote which helped me decide whether to buy a three day pass (US$40) or just a one day (US$20). He said “They’re rocks. They’re pretty rocks but they’re just rocks. “ He was right. Leaving at 5am and ending the day at 6pm give you a 13 hour adventure and even with a two hour nap during the hottest part of the day, you can still get templed out easily. A day trip is perfect for this place and pace.

Angkor is the sunrise wat and the best place to get a photo of the sunrise is right on the well worn patch where no grass can grow next to the pond. Obviously years of sunrise photo takers has made the spot well worn in and by 6 am the place is crowded even for the low season. The sunrise never happened so we went to get some breakfast.

Even though this country does remind me a little of the subcontinent in the way the touts work, there are some rules that are followed unlike on the subcontinent. The children who sell those ugly bracelets and flutes won’t bother you while you eat, the restaurant waitresses can’t pass a line drawn by the police on the ground to control them running to you to sell their menus items and no one but the bald priest women will tout you while you are in the temple. It is a strange social order that has built up between the touts, tourists and police which made the experience more enjoyable. I didn’t feel distracted at all.

After breakfast, we squeezed our way past the hordes of Japanese, Korean and Chinese tourists to take a look at the Bayon, a beautifully well preserved temple with giant close/open eyed heads, pinched mouths which surround you from all sides. Each turret would have four heads, pieced together from eight other rocks and spotted in a white moss, facing all directions. It gives you the feeling that you are being watched not only from inside the temple but from everywhere you go in Angkor. From there we passed the Terrace of the Elephants, a platform for royal presentation where there are elephant inscription, the Terrace of the Leper King, which again is another terrace but in worse condition and then to the Baphuon and Royal Palace, both pyramidal ruins which you can climb if you want to brave the tiny shallow steps that lead to the top. This place brought me back to the time I was in Bagan in Myanmar.

The two sets of ruins are different and as I walked around Angkor Wat, I began to compare them. Individually, Angkor is more magnificent. The rocks and detail are fantastic though some in Bagan were amazing with lotus shaped tops covered in gold foil. The difference is that Bagan is in a flat plain which, by standing on the highest point, will give you a majestic view with scattering of pagodas everywhere. In Angkor Wat, the temples are separated by dense jungle making it impossible for the average person to see the entire place from the highest point. For this reason, I feel that Bagan is the best set of ruins in Asia and possible the world but I haven’t been to Machu Pichu yet. Hmmmm….

From the Royal Palace we went to Ta Prohm and the highlight of my Angkor experience. Here the ruins have been left for the rocks to lay crumbled on the ground. Enormous trees overgrow through the ruins as their roots look as if they are being poured over the stones and into the soil. The trees skyrocket upwards with their green canopy above a mere spot next to endless amounts of white bark below it. With more inspiration from Kent and Wakako, we managed to find the place where the front cover photo of the Lonely Planet was taken and, to add to the excitement, the man who is also featured there. He is an old man named Tameen. He has aged badly in the last four years and you can feel the dark angel of death patiently playing rubix cube next to him as he waits for the changeover. I called up to him in his semi mid day slumber and asked for an autograph in my guide. He agreed by writing a “grrrrr” like word in the book then, tongue sticking out and open mouthed, he fell back to sleep but not before I could hand him some small money to thank him. I was in an oddly starstruck moment and happy as a schoolgirl. I’m not sure why since I wouldn’t have reacted the same if it was a real star but regardless, we returned to the taxi happily making a unique discovery and took the typical tourist noontime nap.

By 11am you feel tired of temples. Six hours have gone by and the conversations slip to thanks over not buying a three day pass and that one day was enough. Even half a day should be sufficient for those not archeologically inclined. By noon, the heat and humidity begin to wear into the days aching feet that have been walking the temples for hours and making it back to your bed seems like priority. Though I didn’t sleep, those that would would feel refreshed, the sun would be down slightly and the heat more bearable. Now is the formulaic time to see the Angkor Wat itself from the inside and, for some, it is were you go see the sunset if you want an alternative to the Bakheng.

The Angkor Wat itself is not a spectacular wat from the inside been simple flat floors and stone pillars holding up a boring gray stone ceiling. Again, to get to the third level you must climb dangerously small and shallow steps. On the third level are bas-reliefs, stone wall carvings, depicting Hindu gods battling it out with other Hindu gods. In fact, there is a strong Hindu presence in many of the places in Angkor. Way to go guys.

From outside, the temple is amazing and beautiful in its symmetry and organization. It was definitely worth all the effort and sweat of the day but you do feel like this is enough and with one last desperate attempt at the mountain temple to get a sunset (which never happened again), we headed back home for an early night sleep.

I stayed one extra day in Seam Reap to hang out with Jarrod and Ilana, the twins I met going to Pai, then I left to the capital of Cambodia, Phnom Pehn.

When you know you are only going to be in a country for a few days, you don’t want to take out a lot of money and here in Cambodia, all three major currencies, the US Dollar, the Baht and the Cambodian Riel are accepted. There are 4000 Riel in a dollar and 100 Riel per Baht. When money changes hands a huge calculation is made to make sure that all the money is right though it is made easier to know that you can just divide the Riel value by 100 to get the Baht price. As I get Riel I try to spend them right away with the next purchase so as not to be left with too much unnecessary money at the end. It has been a conversion nightmare.

On the way to Phnom Pehn I got the opportunity to try out a local classic - deep fried tarantula. The venom is removed so that you can eat the entire thing - legs head teeth body and all. When you haven’t had it before it is hard to approach eating an arachnoids or insect without a proper system. I approached it by segmenting the legs off the body and eating them first. That first mouthful was the hardest part. The best way to describe tarantula legs is ‘crunchy fry’. They taste like the sauce that is covering them, a sort of salty sweet light barbeque flavor. It was actually enjoyable and I got many stares from a lot of tourist who sat next to me during the lunch break. Next, the head and body which seemed less appealing after mastering eating the legs but with closed eyes and excited taste buds I dug in. The head and body are also somewhat only flavored by the sauce that they are deep fried in except that there is a mashed potato taste and texture. All in all it was good grub and at 300 Riel each (3 Baht) I actually ate three of them. I drowned any potential venom with dark cola which we all know kills everything in your stomach and off were went to finish our commute to the capital.

If Khaosan Road is the Las Vegas strip of SE Asia then Boeung Pak Lakeside in Phnom Pehn is the ghettos of New York. Next to the Lake, there are many hotels and guesthouses and overpriced restaurants but between those is a bumpy unpaved road and many residences showing that not everyone in this area is receiving the wealth of the tourist trade. There are no fluorescent signs and no discos. This is a chill out place where all is available especially marijuana which every second person seems to deal. A decent bag will cost you around US$5 before bargaining but I was also offered E for US$15 and cocaine for US$50 - a basement bargain price. The guesthouses are set up in a way that the central area opens up to the lake where beautiful vines and leaves grow from. This place is a poorer version of Khaosan which makes me wonder where all the beggars are? When you have a well known area for first world tourist stay usually there would be an influx of beggars and in Cambodia, amputee beggars everywhere. I have seen few of the landmine victims on this trip but much less than I expected. I need ask some locals some questions.

The other problem, like in the rest of Cambodia, are the tiny mosquitoes which carnivorously consume your body. You need to spray down every few hours as if the mosquitoes are wiping off areas slowly like peeling an apple to get to the white flesh below. Though I haven’t seen much of the city, I can see that this place is designed for relaxing with hammocks and free movies everywhere. There is plenty to see in this place but that is what tomorrow is for.

Tomorrow, I will do the entire day trip with the Silver Pagoda, 2 museums and a shooting range all set up. Then I will head to Saigon for the start of my Vietnam adventure. Now with no deadline, no schedule and a little extra money since I sadly decided to miss out on Burningman this year, I have all the time in the world.

Be Well



Oren Jalon
World Traveller

This message is brought to you by the sign marked “Careful Elephants!” next to the mountain temple in Angkor Wat.

Dear All

80 Kg of pure Gap Year Brit lay unconscious on Haad Rin beach. He is still holding his half finished Chiang Beer and surrounded by emptied small buckets which used to be filled with an evil brew of local Thai whisky, Red Bull and Coke- a blend capable of killing a large cow at 50 feet and blanking your memory from the last few years. Around this poor super party animal dances the hedonistic tribe of various European, Israeli and Canadian creatures that twist and turn to a blend of either RNB, house or Drum and Bass. The carnage left behind as the sun rises is a beach scattered with beer bottles and plastic buckets, newly made romances suck face as the alcohol convinces them that their temporary satisfaction is eternal and the lady-boys scrounge between the beach side clubs for the overdrunk to bring back home with them for a few hundred Baht and a typical night's work. As the sun creeps over the edge of the horizon that is intermittently blocked by taxi boats, the select few hard cores grab what plastic chairs remain unbroken from the night of dancing, drinking and shameless pick up to watch a yellow sun expose a world that never stops partying. I smile as my bones and muscles ache from dancing continuously and constantly for days which lead to it's climax for the Fill Moon - a legendary party with it's legendary chaos. How did I start in the "civility" of Bangkok and get here to the whirlwind of debauchery on Koh Pha Ngan? It all began with a hesitant decision to go to the Full Moon Party.

My new passport is being processed. I have to wait two weeks before I can get a new one as mine is full and with this time preventing me from leaving the country, the Full Moon Party seems like the most interactive choice to go to which then means returning for a second time to the Haad Rin Beach of Koh Pha Ngan. I don't like doubling back on places I have been before and there are many beaches I haven't seen yet but this one has one special feature - a well known Full Moon Party that has a world renowned reputation of being one of the best beach parties in the world. With itchy feet ready to rip up the dance floor, I made my way to my local cheap travel agent and bought my ticket.

I have forgotten how casual I have taken the process of getting around these days as the convenience of this tourist country makes getting around easier than passing a bowel movement after too much Indian curry. There are a few tricks to know to be a successful HOBO - budget traveller with more time than money. On Khao San, look for the agencies that advertise their prices on the street. These guys want you to now how cheap they are instead of hiding the amount they are trying to cheat you into. During low season, like now, you can buy your ticket the day of. I get it the day before just to cement the deal and not worry about not having space. This ticket is all inclusive from guest house to bus to ferry to island. No thinking please. Check out of your guest house and leave your stuff in one of several places that will hold your big bag for the day for free or for a few Baht charge. Here, many places offer a baggage storage for those that will be away for two weeks and don't need their whole bag and the fee can be as low as 5 Bhat per day (if you are a successful hobo and have found that perfect spot) At 6pm, the guest house round up the tourists like lost sheep in a diesel exhaust grassland. The group gets sticker ed the first of which is a pink one with the label of the guest house name and the destination - like a cattle branding. Those that go to Ko Samui are also on this bus as the boat ferry stops first in Ko Samui then to Ko Pha Ngan. Herded around and across a small stretch of highway we are relieved of the one thing that identifies and unifies us - our backpacks - and we climb onto a double decker bus. The top has a 2x2 seating arrangement with thin tissue-like blankets lay across the headrest to warm those that recognize that the air con offered as a bonus in the ad will actually cause near hypothermia if not properly monitored. The bus leaves late though some people, like the Finnish who were sitting next to me and who don't sleep in the Khao San area, have been waiting for hours until all of the dysfunctional backpackers have made their way to the grassy inter highway island where several buses wait. This bus had a bottom love shack - a circular table with a circular couch previously designed for rock stars to snort coke from but now simply offer awkward seating for an already overbooked bus. Though there is a toilet on board, the bus makes its first toilet break within the first hour of the trip. Those still not frozen stiff by the tundra like blast from the air con make their way down to the gas station snack bar and grab their assortment of heart disease related goods and the bus is off again. The TVs on the bus are placed so that a select few have the best view and the rest have this strained neck side angle that distorts the image but not enough to complain. The first movie is a light yet common Hollywood feel-good flick that made me laugh and made the rest of the bus laugh at me. The second movie, something that doesn't happen often during an overnight bus ride, was a bad b-rated psychological thriller and the Finnish family, one with a puking ten year old, kept saying "Eis gud entertienment" in a universally understood disgruntled tone. With the movie done and the Finnish finished their crossword, the lights go out so that we can sleep. Sleep is a temporary condition on these trips as if the bus driver and conductors feel that if they shouldn't sleep, we shouldn't sleep. A short two hours into REM, the bus lights come on, the clock strikes midnight and we are shuffled off the bus to a restaurant in the middle of nowhere that serves food at triple the normal rate. I have no idea where we are and are at the mercy of the bus drivers. Back on after an hour of waiting, ten minutes of which was spent eating dinner, and the bus light are off again, the air con replacing the light that once kept us in the illusion of warmth. Some people keep their lights on like on planes to read or write but soon the bus is roaring and we are snoring. Darkness still consumes the sky as the lights to the bus wake us when it reaches its destination after an uneasy 4 hours sleep where, at 5 am, we get resorted and replace one paper ticket for a green sticker which reconfirms our destination as if the first pink one wasn't convincing enough. We are in the evil death trap of Surat - the place where I got scammed the first time going to Khao Sok but instead of being in the bus station, we are at some travel agency and with the daylight comes the touts who have novels of hotel ads with unreasonable prices to hawk at us showing us pictures of rooms which most likely were taken when the hotel was first built. In the touts defence, if you do say you have a hotel, they do politely walk away and thank you for your time. They do this everyday and can read a budget hobo traveller the moment their stink pours off the night bus. Surat is a central point that takes most of it's white skinned sheep to the left or right towards the island of your choice. Once all the buses from all the companies have arrived, we are resorted again to a new bus to take us to the ferry. This is a short hour drive and we get to the ferry office gate who take a third ticket from us and puts a red sticker on us, this one with a picture of a boat on it and the words "joint ticket" as if it may imply some Rastafarian influence. Those going to Ko Samui get a blue sticker. Stickered up and still under the influence of Mother's Little Helper we board the ferry. The ferry takes a good two hours to get to Ko Samui. The inside of the ferry has the typical Thai super air con and a movie seen only by those close to the screen and audible only to those that have the super mutant power of distinguishing between engine roar and bad TV speaker fuzz. Two movies occupied the time from the ferries start, the time when the Ko Samui folk get off and the time the rest of us get to our final party island destination, Koh Pha Ngan. There are multiple beaches on this island. As you walk off the ferry, sweating from the 30 degree heat and blistering sun, the touts with signs of your beach of choice chase after you and shuffle you into a taxi cab fit for 8 but stuffed to ten for a unionized and non negotiable price of 50 Baht. There is a tout on board and, in this case, it was for the guest house I wanted anyways so I followed them to the place. The Paradise Guest Hose id where is all started - The original full moon party but when the tout brought me there the place was full but since arrived over a week early, I managed to find a beach side bungalow with ease. Between the boredom of the waiting for the destination and the frustration of arriving, the site of a bed to call my own for the next few days seems godsend. I opened my bag and officially began using the real purpose of this country - chill out.

The party beach of Haad Rin is set up for two reasons: to sun bathe and party. The first hot days of my arrival were met with empty restaurants and scattering of topless girls all ensuring their nipples are the same colour as the rest of their skin. I wandered the streets alone but not for long. Within hours I met Ravit, a sweet hearted girl that kept me company those first few days. That first night I got to experience the meaning of beach party.

The beach is set up with the clubs set a fair distance from the water and with beautiful white sand in between. As the night draws closer, the bar staff set up plastic chairs and floor mats with little tables and oil lamps dimly lighting the spaces between buzzing conversations. This early time is the most civil and the most beautiful as the light flicker of the oil lamps brings a new beauty to the beach. The tourists are a general blend of gap year Brits and Aussies, post army Israelis, and an offencive number of Canadians who knew that Canada Day conveniently landed on the night of the full moon. The first bar which appears as you walk off the road onto the beach is the Cactus which plays a brutal rotation of RNB, House and inappropriate guitar rock on some sort of three hour cycle. By midnight, the beach and the road that leads to the Chicken Corner - a 24 hour sandwich district - is full of braided hair Israelis and party-goers in their "Same Same but Different" T-shirts. The dancing goes on all night but in those early days, there were only two clubs, the Cactus and the Drop In which both play similar stuff. I danced non stop regardless of what kind of music elitist London has turned me into. Lining the streets and in the bars, sold by tailors and restaurants alike for those impatient to wait for inebriation is the Bucket of Joy.

The bucket of joy is probably the drinkers worst enemy and best friend all at the same time. It is a small bucket, which can hold about two litres of fluid, and is filled with a mickey of Sangsom whisky (the local Thai solvent), a bottle of red bull and a can of coke then, in typical Thai style, overfilled with ice. Add seven straws so that people don't have to share the same one - which is completely ignored anyways - and you have what people called A Bucket. For a little under US$4 or 150 Baht you can get completely shit faced to the point where you find the sand soft like kitten fur and ready for beddybye. Many victims of The Bucket were immobilized by its immense and sudden alcoholic strength so that they became exposed to the morning sun without realizing it. Inter spaced between the bodies that made the beach look like the D-Day attack on Normandy are the alcohol induced romances that added to the hedonism and debauchery. The Bucket made the ugly look like Brad Pitt and many couples were openly groping, fondling and making out in the openness of the Buddhist air. Holiday love has never had a greater impact than here and with some of the most beautiful people I have seen together on one beach, it makes sense that the sexual energy of the party, mixed with cheap alcohol and hot sweaty clubs would produce a world where free love is obviously expressed. As the sun rose in the morning, the silhouette of the taxi boats and their drivers became visible entities and the drunks and their drunk crossed lovers were sleeping like babies in each others arms and legs in what I felt was a beautiful site of true holiday romance. I managed to see the sun rise every day for the entire time I was there. Every morning I took my plastic white chair and sat and watched a sun run as my muscles relaxed. Those that shared these fantastic moments were some old friends and some new ones. Ana and Kristen, the most positive, well spirited and fun girls that I first met in Chiang Mai met me again on the dance floor of the Cactus. They were a wonderful surprise that blessed my time there. I couldn't have sweated it out hard enough without them. Then, a newcomer, Pete - a funky house fanatic who's voice of reason made a mushy night much more fun - something I would definitely repeat and was a highlight of my trip. Then, one of the most important characters in this movie is the poet Lucy who kept me company as the sun rose every morning and kept me entertained with her good humour and great personality. A partner in crime I have never had better and, like with all the crew I hung out with, we burned down the dance floor for days. But for all the fun and excitement of the party, for all the world that is lost for the moment, there is a darker side.

The clubs are filled with Thai hookers and some are lady-boys, the cross dressed pre-ops hoping to catch some drunken British hornball whose libido has been compromised by their alcoholism and better judgement floats away with the lowering tide. Between the clubs that started to open the closer you got to the Full Moon such as the Drum and Bass Orchid Club or my personal hangout, the funky house club of The Big Boom Bar, there would be many lady-boy hookers approaching and propositioning you for a quickie for a discount. Many girls that I hung out with told me that it was great that guys can finally realized what it is like to be a girl constantly harassed by guys like me trying to pick them up. These ladyboys were persistent and irritating to the point where I had to lose my Buddhist style patience and tell them to f-off. The Thai hookers that are really girls dance in the clubs alongside the stew of men who shamelessly try to get a shag for the night. I got an occasional crotch grab which I ignored - they are only doing their job. Many of those who got so drunk that they couldn't wake from their slumber on the beach got fleeced - picked dry of their wallets and possessions which the lady-boys specialize in and, in my opinion, make up a large amount of their income. Often, the drunk post teens would tell stories of how they can't remember how they lost their keys, money, wallet etc... The Thai that work on the beach are a twisted bunch as well and they do things that I wouldn't expect of normal Thai people such as be dangerously confrontational with some cases of two Brits getting smashed and cut up by beer bottles by twelve Thai or of a westerner working for a tour boat company who was doing so well for the business that the jealous Thai competition cut the rope that anchors the westerners tour boat and let it sail off into the night and off to sea. These Thai are different and sometimes they do bad things possibly because they see us living a life they can't have and some of us treating them in a way that is more like slavery than like service. Though the working staff do seem to suffer its the beach itself that suffer worst of all.

By morning, there would be an offensive amount of garbage on the beach which the staff of the bars would clean - scouring cigarette butts with rakes and picking up every bottle and lost sandal left behind in the drinking frenzy. By three pm the next day, the time I would eventually wake up and get my first meal, the beach would have returned to its spotless splendid cleanliness. That was until the big night.

I would usually wake around noon though I fell asleep around 7am. The heat of the noon day sun turned my bungalow into the inside of an electric stove coil and the pool of sweat mixed with the empty feeling in my stomach forced me to get out of bed and into the nearest restaurant. That morning of the Full Moon, the streets of Haad Rin were filled to capacity with the party-goers from the Ko Samui and the other parts of my island. The beach and restaurants give no rest to the wicked as the bucket prices double and the music stages set up for more clubs than usual on the beach and little space for the big space dancer. This is still low season but there is still a huge number of people on the beach - enough for there to lose your friends in the mess. I lost mine bit found some others. To be honest, the music wasn't;t as good as the nights leading up to the big Full Moon Party so I wasn't in full gear for the night but nonetheless, the party was fantastic and something that shouldn't be missed when coming to Thailand. Lights flash, people dance barefoot in the sand and a good time is had by all. This Full Moon was complimented by many wearing read and white to celebrate a Canada Day (Canada's day of Confederation) that can only be compared to the party that explodes from downtown Ottawa. The bodies of the drunk lay in their standard face down in the sand formation but in greater numbers. The music played longer than usual - until 10am then to the after party which went on for the rest of the day. The madness of the night was more than this old body could handle and I headed to bed early (ie 8am) as my bones were feeling the crush of dancing for days prior and for the litres of pure M-150 I drank to keep me awake. The Full Moon is a party of well deserved reputation.

I stayed on Koh Pha Ngan for three extra days though most left in a typical exodus. It was hard to go but my passport was ready days ago and Cambodia and Vietnam wait for me. I took a similar tour back with Yifat, an Israeli girl who kept me company while I was burned out from days of excess. I am now in Bangkok and I have discovered some interesting things. First of all, the visa for Laos is no longer available for 15 days and Canadians pay the most of any country for the available 30 day visa. This means that I will get my Cambodian visa here, my Vietnam visa in Cambodia and then I will have to decide if I should re-enter Cambodia or go to Laos - both choices for visas are very expensive. I sit in Bangkok now and then off to see Angkor Wat but there is a scam waiting for those taking the bus. This letter is too long as it is so I'll write about it later.

Be Well





Oren Jalon
World Traveller

This message is brought to you by all the enormous number sandals that are lost by drunk people dancing barefoot in the sand.

Dear All

There is something called "The Flow". Capital T, capital F - The Flow. It is a symbolic current of tourism that pushes the individual backpacking minnow downstream towards some traditional spawning ground. This clouded pond of tourist interest directs the schools of fish that make there way there to either stare unblinking (fish have no eyelids y'know) at the magnificent surroundings or simply rest after the long swim around. Go with it little fish - go with The Flow. The Laos stream moves around the mountains and into the cities of Luang Prabang, Vang Vieng and finally Vietienne. There is very little to blink at in this place but there is a lot of resting to be done. The best place for this is in Vang Vieng.

I left Luang Prabang after three days. This leaves 12 days on my visa to go. I took the speedboat so that I wouldn't have to rush through the country and waste time commuting. Funny how things turn out. The glowing bulbs of the Luang Prabang night market drew me like a moth to a flame and I irresistibly conformed to buying one of the BeerLaos t-shirts - a passport stamp of the country of sorts as many of us who walk the country can be seen wearing the US$1.75 print. The Hive, the local ex-pat bar, filled ever night with opiated intoxicators until the 11:30pm curfews set all of us tucked nicely in our beds. Laos, for those who understand Asian backpacking economy, isn't as cheap as was rumoured. Like Thailand, I slept for anywhere from US$1.50 to 3.00 and ate for a buck. There are much fewer street stalls here selling food as the locals mist likely eat only at home. This leaves the country with mostly tourist oriented overpriced restaurants leaving this street urchin hunting around for some classic Laos dish traditionally found near plastic stools that surround plastic tables set underneath either plastic tarping, corrugated metal or clear South East skies. Luang Prabang is a beautiful place and nice for chilling but nothing compares to the god-like chill out powers of Vang Vieng.

After a seven dollar bus ride, I and many others in the school of fish, made our way to the classic tourist trap of Vang Vieng. These tiny villages that get rave reviews by the Lonely Planet build up tourist facilities in a very predictable fashion. Inter space travel agencies randomly between countless hotels, have restaurants with beds instead of plastic stools, play movies every three hours and offer the whole setting in magnificent mountain surroundings. Vang Vieng is the perfect place to chill out with some tubing down the Mekong to add some variety to the day of hammocking and watching the entire series of Friends. I spent three days here but managed to lose one when I ate a Special Pizzas, one of many special items on the menu with a funny tasting oregano. Dr oozy from watching two movies in succession and full of funny oregano, I slept from 6:30pm to the same time the next day and watched two more movies. The following day I went tubing down the Mekong and got a inconsistent burn across my chest and arms - a welcome feeling to remind me that I am in a country that never experiences snow. There are several pseudo restaurants that offer pre-rolled joints at several stops along the two hour river journey. If you do want to get to these restaurants, just signal near to them to pull out a long bamboo stick to grab and reel you in. I can imagine in the high season that the riverside restaurants are packed and pumping but now they are empty like the Sahara. I left after 3 days here but only two days of real experiencing Vang Vieng. It is all it really needs. The next place in The Flow is Vietienne.

Vietienne is the capital of Laos and though it is the most developed city in Laos it still shows the signs of economic instability in this country. The rain fell hard for the day I spent here and the streets flooded over so that the cars and trucks pushed knee high wakes through the waters that couldn't find proper drainage. Most travellers talk of how little there is to do in Vietienne but with this kind of minor natural disaster I managed to see even less. I wanted to tour the city and see some interesting French architecture but, alas, I took the overpriced bus back to Bangkok to meet some old travel friends of mine, Akira and Yen-Chao and to get a new passport.

Wait a minute. Three days in Luang Prabang three days in Vang Vieng and a day in Vietienne with some commuting time in between makes for a total of 9 days. Why did I rush to get around so much and why couldn't I use my time here. It seems that this country doesn't have that much to offer but many wold disagree. Many love this place and feel that it is better than Thailand. I feel that they are the same. I have to make a second run through the south of Laos when I leave Vietnam so my image of this place being peacefully neutral may change.

So that is where The Flow stops. I have been in BKK for a few days since I am slightly crippled by the fact that I cannot leave Thailand until July 1st when the Canadian Embassy gives me a new passport to replace my full one. Feels good to have a full passport - a sense of accomplishment. I may head down to Koh Pha-Ngan again to try and catch the full moon party for real this time and kill some time before heading to Vietnam and Cambodia then back to Laos to find my way home. I have been following this Flow for a while and not diversifying from the general wide stream. With the exception of going to Chinatown and the enormous weekend market, hanging out with the always fun Yen-Chao and seeing a few movies in the theatre, I have done little in BKK. There have been some birthday adventures thanks to Sarah Jakiel getting older by chronology but not physically and some late nights that include live Irish bands but otherwise I have been vacationing. I do feel my travels have come to a stop here as the rains, effort and time have been OverFlowing my river but slowing down is what SE Asia is all about, isn't it?

I will head to Koh Pha-Ngan for the full moon which will leave me out of communication for the next two weeks to return to a new passport and time here in BKK getting visas.

Be Well




Oren Jalon
World Traveller

This message is brought to you by JohnOCallaghan who reminded me that backpacking isn't always about discovery and that having a holiday during a year of travel is part of the process.

This will be the last time I will write to you using a bulk system in my e-mail box. Thanks to my good friend and professional traveller Andy Hobo, I have been set me up with a way that you can subscribe to my newsletter so that you don't have my e-mails bothering you unnecessarily. Please check out HTTP://www.hobotraveler.com/orenworldtraveller for they way to subscribe. Take out the "/orenworldtraveller"part to read Andy's stuff (he's been to Iraq!)

Dear All,

It always amazes me how a series of non-events will lead to a surprise ending. I am often saying "'If I didn't go to that totally dull and empty city, I would have never met such-and such." SE Asa is a playground for tourist rotating through a circular tunnel of tourist traps where some go clockwise and others counterclockwise and, eventually, you meet up with all of those people you ran into in the start. I find that the chill out factor of these counties has such a great pull to glue people to one spot that it becomes inevitable that you we'll run into someone you met days or even months ago. A warm return of friendship as absence makes the heart grow fonder. Pai was my first example of this phenomenon.

I had made my way to Chiang Mai by bus from Khao San Rd. On this bus, I bumped into Hila, the girl that called me immature without provocation. I ignored her for the trip seeing as it was pointless to waste my strength on confrontation. I didn't realize then that this type of meeting, meeting someone in the south then by chance seeing them in the north, was such a strong influence to SE Asian travel. The bus dropped us off and she went on her way. I passed the time in Chiang Mai with some good people, two of which came with me to Pai, Ana and Kristin from New Zealand - a pair of girls who proved to me that long term travel is possible with another person if you both are compatible with each other. I have travelled with many people but haven't gotten along with some but their sense of compromise and egalitarianism showed me that this life is possible. Together, we all went up to Pai.

Pai is a backpacker haven. Take cheap accommodation, cheap food and a fantastic live scene with some excessive drinking and beautiful scenery and you have Pai. The locals that live there are some of the most welcoming and friendly I have experienced in this part of the world. The House of Glass, one of our favourite chill out places, offered an all you can eat buffet and, since we didn't finish all the food, the wonderful owner offered to feed us for free the next day for lunch. The hotel owners gave us two free beers just for being a large group of people in their hotel. By night, the bars opened to either open mike nights with various folk tunes played by long term staying musicians or by a funk band at Beebop which was the only place that had dancing. The three of us partied with a crew of three other Canadians, Alana, Jarrod and Lee, one Aussie, Chris and one Brit-Pole, Marisha - whom we met on the bus down. This small crew of travellers clicked together like Lego and we toured and travelled together for as long as we could. It brings me back to a time of partying in Pushkar with a fantastic crew of kids. It brings me back to Goa and the wonderful time I shared with Charlotte. It brings me back to an old conclusion: It is not about the place, it is about the people. This portable community that came with me to Pai made this city one of the most memorable I have had. Other than a waterfall and a hot spring, there is little left to do but socialize. Before 3pm, the streets are empty as the citizens, local, long and short termer's, find shelter from an unforgiving sun as its monsoon heat makes commuting unbearable. The restaurants during this low season are eerily empty and I began to see the desperation of the local economy as little business is being done. The city is about tourism and with most guest houses already shutting down for the big rain, the people are moving out to find new forms of income in different places. Pai is a small place, easy to walk around and hassle free. There are no tuk tuks and no touts. The party starts as the night sets into place and doesn't end until the sun takes over. With few option on where to go, a backpackers has their night planned for them before the even wake up the next morning from their previous night's drunken stupor. Dinner at random restaurant - Beebop - Bamboo Bar. It's just as simple as that. The crew and I rented motorcycles and headed to the hot springs. I spent a lot of time talking to some foreigners who are either retired and living in Pai or in their youth finding their place in the world but they all came to the same final conclusion - Pai is a very special place.

I sadly said goodbye to Chris, Jarrod, Lee and Alana - some of the friendliest people I have met and then, two days later after extending my time in Pai by an extra day, I left Ana and Kristin behind while they enjoyed the mountain side and the sweet funky sounds. Thanks guys for such a good time. Oh and as for this circular tunnel theory, I met Hila again, one of the disadvantages to a small world.

I returned to Chiang Mai for an extra day as well. I don't know why I stayed as long as I did there but I guess these old bones of mine are slowing the pace as I feel the end of my trip approaching. I travel less and chill out more. That is what this country is about but this was one of those unnecessary steps. Originally I was supposed to return to BKK by June 21 to meet some friends and get a new passport so I was planning only 13 days in Laos instead of 15 but things have recently changed. My friends aren't going to be there, one of the difficulties of co-ordinating meeting people across four countries. I still haven;t been able to meet up with Ralph, a long term traveller as well who has also helped me to set up a website. This circular tunnel theory isn't perfect.

I left Chiang Mai and headed to the opening to the Golden Triangle - a historical route where opium travels through SE Asia and into China - to a city called Chiang Rai. I heard very little about Chiang Rai via word of mouth but since it split my trip to Laos more conveniently, i decided to go. This became my second unnecessary step. This is a boring town with little to see and do except some interesting Chinese influence. I slept early that night wondering if I had wasted a day that could have been spent in Laos seeing, as before, I had a schedule to meet. Now, as all my planned are up in smoke, I realize that I had more time to cruise around. This is all part of the fun isn't it? I left Chiang Rai early the next morning to catch the first bus to the border.

I haven't mentioned much about Thailand's infrastructure, city planning and culture as there is little to mention. The country developed so fast that all the cities of any economic significance all have the same physically appearance and style. Some beach side cities have a little more open space and Bangkok, of course, has some uniqueness to itself being the iron fist of the South East but the other places I have been like Krabi and Chiang Mai or Chiang Rai all are the same. I assume the hill tribes villages are somewhat different but my disbelief in ethnotourism holds me back from going there. Thai culture is difficult to connect to as the people are either shy or uninterested in communicating their culture over. Again, only long term exposure to them would open your eyes to their lifestyles. The people of Laos are even harder to relate to as they are even more shy.

I crossed the Thai border town of Chiang Khong in one giant swoop, easily crossed immigration and ferried over to Laos, the land of cheap living and even more chill out. There is even less to see in Laos as there is in Thailand. Tourist come here to do little by shop, read, and relax by smoking the easily accessible wacky tabacky and the deadly opium which has funded this country for hundreds of years. Unlike Thailand's aggressive war on drugs, Laos is more laid back and only infrequently do tourist rumour sing stories of police arrest for possession which eventually leads to a US$200 fine and deportation at worst. Thailand has a life imprisonment policy for being caught smoking a joint. This is why many young tourist come here to have themselves a chemical holiday. I found myself at the border and to my surprise I met Wakako and her boyfriend Kent. Unplanned, I met them on the way out of Laos as I was on the way in. If it hadn't been for those unnecessary steps in Chiang Mai and Rai, I would never have met up with my old friends that I met in Myanmar. Circular Tunnel. I decided to check into a hotel to talk to them instead of taking the slow boat to Luang Prabang that morning. This is a two day boat ride with a night in an empty town called Pakbeng down the Mekong river. The second option in the speedboat, a six hour journey. I spent some time talking to my good friends and getting some advice on the place. We all headed down to the speed boat ferry to find two Laos businessmen waiting to get across to Luang Prabang that day. It was 2 pm and I though that the boats only left at 9am. In a manic panic I rushed back to my guest house, screamed at the landlady to get half my money back, said a quick goodbye to old friends that I am happy to have seen again and took the trip by speed boat. Who would spend two days on a slow boat? Seems boring, well, I learnt later that it is a sort of right of passage to Laos to take this slow boat to or from Luang Prabang. The speed boat has a reputation of being very dangerous but, at the time I didn't know this. It is too bad for those who heard this rumour. Though we did wear life jackets and crash helmets, the speed boat was great fun and a huge rush as it ripped down the luxuriously green Mekong River with its thick jungle bush clinging to limestone cliffs that all lined the banks of this rocky river. Where the river became reflective like a mirror the ride was smooth but when a muddy current disturbed the smooth peacefulness of the rushing waters, the ride became bumpy and the speedboat skipped like a flattened rock thrown by a child. It was a rush which turned to concern as the sun began to set. A six hour ride would mean that we would dock by 8pm but by 7 it would surely be nighttime. Just as I had resigned to sleeping in the boat for the night and finishing the last hour of the trip during dawn, we arrive in record time - 5 hours from departure. We must have been high tailing it downstream. I rolled into Luang Prabang, found a fairly vacant hotel and wandered the streets.

It is true that the people of Laos are more pleasant than the Thai but that is only because they are much more shy. Maybe it has to do with the war or the oppressive government or the recent introduction of tourism but no matter what, the Laos People are very nice. Laos itself should better be called Thailand #2. The people look the same, everyone watched Thai TV and speaks Thai and all the products available are mostly Thai and the rest are Chinese. It seems that very little is produced here except agriculture where 85% of the population live. There are two exceptions: baguettes and coffee. This is the first time I have had real bread in a long time thanks to the French's previous occupation of Indo-china. The world famous coffee here is served thick with little milk as little is available. I often drink it as ice coffee where, like the Thai, the bag is filled to capacity with ice and then the coffee fills the spaces between the cubes. The Thai and Laos love their ice and would never drink water without it unlike the Chinese who often drink cooled down boiled water. As well, there is Beerlaos which is the only manufactured product that originates from this country and the T-shirts with it's logo are available everywhere. This city which is obviously much poorer than its equivalent in Thailand, is made for shopping and a night bazaar that appeals strictly to tourists shares much of the appeal to coming here. There is a magnificent waterfall that towers 50 feet above a cold crystal blue swimming pond and a trek that treacherously leads to the top is open for the brave like me. Once again, as I made my way up and through the waterfall, the rain poured down on me in big chubby droplets reminding me again not to trek in the rainy season. I stayed the day at the waterfall enjoy what little sun escaped through the great cloud carpet.

On my first night in, as I wandered the streets for some authentic Laos cuisine, I bumped into Alana, Jarrod, Lee and Chris. A wonderful surprise and satisfying the criteria of my Circular Tunnel Theory. If I hadn't taken the speedboat to Luang Prabang, I would have never had met up with my old Pai crew. We laughed again and enjoyed one more night of fun which I hope to continue in my next city Vang Vieng where I will stay there for a good week making plans.

I want to note to everyone that I am feeling the wear and tear of travelling. Though I have only been on the road for 9 months, one month sitting in Goa, I am feeling like stopping for a while may be in order. I am becoming less and less interesting in adventuring and exploring a find myself just doing nothing to pass the days. Maybe it's because there is very little of interest to shock me - no crazy Indian style cities and no Sky Burial. I have several plans in the works. I will stay in SE Asia until late August then head to the Burning man Festival for two weeks in the US then I will find a new home in Tel Aviv but will tour the country for a month but I may start my Middle East adventure in Beirut or Bahrain. I need to do some research first and see how I feel. Travellers toughest decisions are often simply where to go. What do you think?

Be well,





Oren Jalon
World Traveller

This message is brought to you by the French language - a way for me to communicate to the elderly who have studied this language to fluency the same way the elderly Burmese know English having a British colonial past.