March 8th and 9th - Getting There

As the world becomes smaller, it also turns very uncomfortable. The flight from New York to Tokyo was a long and arduous journey. Saddled with a poor selection of movies, cramped seats and lousy neighbors, I struggled to maintain my cool. I distracted myself with video games as Karen shifted about in a lost effort to find comfort. Level 3 of "Connect 4" frustrated me so completely that when I finally bested the maddening machine, making the score 24 - 1, I nearly stood and screamed. The meals didn't help either as Japan Airlines' version of Japanese delicacies were some form of sweet, unidentifiable, honey-comb shaped vegetable.

I don't fly often, so maybe this is a common feature on international flights, but I thought it was a nice touch: the plane is equipped with bottom and front mounted cameras. This allows one to watch take-off, landing and the scenery at 35,000 ft. from either the pilot's view or the view of a soon to be dropped explosive. It's only slightly disconcerting that, should the plane go down, you could watch your own death as in-flight entertainment.

Cruising into Narita airport, 14 hours later at 4,000 feet, I noticed an abundance of blue-roofed houses and arid looking golf courses. Significance unknown.

We had a much better 7 hour leg from Tokyo to Bangkok. With the flight somewhat empty we were able to stretch out, sleep intermittently and recline our seats the full 20 degrees without an ounce of guilt. Arriving at the legendary Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Bangkok circa 1 AM, we slept soundly but briefly, basking in the luxury we would soon forego.

March 10th - Luxury

The staff at the Mandarin Oriental are eerily efficient. After breakfast on the verandah (peaceful and delicious) we made our way back to the elevators. The porter, a man we'd never before met, greeted us and said, "tenth floor?" With a knowing smile and a sleight-of-hand click of the 10th floor button, we were on our way. The floor butler then greeted us on 10, "Mr. Dallesandro, Ms. Valby." Of course we'd never seen this man before either. It's the little touches at the Oriental that help you feel creeped-out.

Our room has a daily selection of exotic Thai fruit. Day 1 featured the orange. Day 2, the banana. Each fruit comes with a description such as follows:

The Banana, (Musa sapientum) is native to South East Asia and from here has spread to all the world's tropical regions. The Banana grows not on a tree but a herbaceous perennial with impressively large leaves, often torn to strips by the wind. The bananas are available throughout the year, the best coming from Nontaburi.

Unfortunately, we had to leave before receiving day 3's selection. Perhaps the apple? We'll never know.

We rode the ferry boat up to the crowded sweatbox known as Chinatown. A brief foray into the bustling alleyways, past food stall upon food stall (who eats all this food?) left us disoriented (no pun intended) and quite hungry.

We decided to spend the afternoon at the hotel pool where I quickly learned that the staff would greatly prefer you do nothing for yourself. It was a foot race between me and pool guy number 2 for who would get me a fresh towel first. I decided I might get the guy in trouble if I'm seen helping myself so I sucked it up and let them wait on me.

March 11th - Downgrading and the Group

We spent the morning by the Oriental pool after gorging ourselves on the all-you-can-eat-buffet. American style!! One...more...bacon. We decided to check our email (gotta stay wired) which is accompanied by a complimentary cup of coffee and a panna cotta. This is a nice touch because I hate checking my fantasy hockey stats back home without a pudding-like dessert.

After checking out we hailed a cab to shuttle us to the Viengtai Hotel for a rendezvous with our Intrepid group. Our cabby was trying from the get-go to explain to us a potential problem with our journey. This resulted in a fair amount of miscommunication, leaving us feeling foolish in our assumption that he might know English. Apparently, he was concerned that the hotel was on a one-way street and he wouldn't be able to pull us up front. Nothing would stop this pro however, and he dropped us at the door as we gave him a healthy bonus on top of the agreed upon fare.

After dropping our bags we took to the streets. We were located in the backpackers district and thusly surrounded by 20-year-old hippies. Our hotel was a significant downgrade (it would turn out to be the crummiest of the entire trip) but they had a mini-bar with $.60 beers. After gulping down some Singhas we met the folks with whom we'd spend the next 8 days. Ma, a 22 year-old computer science major from Japan. She was shy and kind of nerdy but would tear up the dance floor later in the trip. Akko, a 36 year-old woman, also from Japan, is an engineer working on complex cell phone technology. Neither understood English very well and we were disappointed to later learn that a Japanese translator had to bail at the last minute. Our guide Bom was affable and fun and reminded Karen exactly of her friend Wook. Managing up to 4 of these trips a month, I admired his work and his outlook on life. His trainee was named Wasa. She was familiar, funny and a good foil for Bom. We would later be joined by a 7th, Jun, the 40-something photographer from Japan. He was raised on the upper west-side and lives in Yokohama. Our most frequent companion, his unceasing drive to photograph everything was nothing short of exhausting to witness.

March 12th - Cycling in Bangkok

After a semi-gross breakfast in the semi-gross hotel restaurant, our group convened for the morning activity. Biking in Bangkok! We took to the streets as a gang of badly dressed tourists and tore it up (we swear the sunhats were imperative). Bangkok can be oppressively hot at certain times of year. This was one of them. I felt for our fearless leader, Bom, as he watched this gaggle of rubbernecking newbies attempt to navigate rush hour traffic. We made a number of interesting stops: a fruit stand for some jackfruit, the Golden Mountain and a presidential mansion where we gobbled down some tamarind. Cycling is one of the best ways to see any city and Bangkok is no exception.




We returned to the hotel with a few hours to kill before heading to the train station for our overnight trip to the Laos border and Vientianne. I accompanied the photog, Jun, around the corner for some delicious curry soup ($.50!!) while Karen tried to catch up on some z's. We had yet to find a sleeping rhythm and in fact would never really figure out how to avoid waking up at 5 AM. After lunch we retired to our room and watched Miracle on Star Movies. USA! USA!

Around 7 PM we traveled to the train station and prepared to board our overnight train. Due to a booking mishap (as we would later learn) we were given the upper bunk rather than the lower. It's a worse lot for a few reasons. For one, they leave the fluorescent lights on all night for safety and in the top bunk you're basically face to face with it's sleep depriving glare. Jun made the poor waitress hand me my dinner 18 times until he could get the proper shot at which point she thought we were nuts and my chicken and cashews were cold!

March 13th - Vientianne, Windbags and Beerlao

After a strange sleep on the train we awoke and neared Vientianne. During breakfast we stopped at the Udorn Thani station and waited until 8 AM so they could blare the national anthem through a set of crummy speakers. We reached the border around 9 and proceeded to work our way through customs. There was a sign warning you of the dangers of drug possession across the border, although I wasn't clear whether I would become this guy or he would await me in prison. Either way, point taken.



We finally arrived in Vientianne, the capital of Laos. When the Lao people took control of their government in 1975, they set up shop in Vientianne. It's a dusty, sleepy town with a number of important temples and a fake arc de triomphe. The name of the country is pronounced Lao (rhymes with cow). When the French colonized the place there were a number of different kingdoms. They initially referred to the entire land as the kingdoms of Laos (rhymes with house). Later shortened to Laos, pronouncing the ess. The natives and most south east Asians refer to the country as Lao, but still spell it Laos. Got it? Moving on. Our guest house was a nice little place decorated in the French colonial style. Being a poor, communist country, Laos needs to conserve its energy. To facilitate this, our room would only allow you to use electricity if you were actually there. Your guest key being the on/off switch. After another scrumptious lunch the plan was to take a tour of the important city sights. We met our guide, a somewhat rigid but personable local. We hopped in a bus and proceeded to see the Wat Sisaket (Wat = Temple), the presidential Palace, Patouxai and the impressive That Luoang. The guide had a strange way of speaking as if he had memorized hours upon hours of Laos history directly from a tour guide training manual. His favorite phrases, "In my conetryyyy","Asyoumayknow" and "The Lao Peepuuullll" were uttered repeatedly. On top of that, he would often repeat himself multiple times in the same sentence. "Asyoumayknow, in 1975, the Lao peepuuullll took over the government. Sooo, when the Lao peepuuullll took over the government in 1975, they adopted Marxist and Leninist socialism. In my conetryyyy, which was established in 1975, by the Lao peepuuullll..." and so on. In the end, he always had some fascinating information on the history, religion and way of life in Laos. I was the only one in our group that ever listened to his monologue in its entirety.





We ate dinner that night at a local restaurant called Just for Fun after having a couple of Beerlao at the bar. Beerlao has a 98% market share in Laos. It's a strong brew brought over by the French using a Czechloslovakian recipe. Needless to say, after three of these suckers (they seem to favor the larger, 16 ounce size) I was a bit slurry and ended up inadvertently spitting in Karen's eye when trying to say, "I've had too much Beerlao."

March 14th - Free Day

Today was a free day for the group. As some folks headed off to the Buddha Park, we decided to grab a quick massage and futz around town. We first had some breakfast at a local bakery called Joma. Due to the French influence, baked goods abound as well as western style coffee. After my "bagel egger" we headed to Mixay (Mee-say) massage for a one-hour, $2 massage. We then met the group for lunch at our favorite local place. When entrees only cost $1, one tends to over-order. Between the five of us, we must have appeared as if we hadn't eaten in months. I find days like these the best way to experience any new city. Aimlessly wandering around we could really absorb the pace and mood of Lao life. It felt like for the first time we had adjusted our rhythm to that of our hosts. A walk along the Mekong river as sunset approached saw riverside food stalls cropping up and locals enjoying a leisurely meal by the water.
We happened upon a game of Tekraw, a cross between hackeysack and volleyball. It's a lot of fun to watch players who really know the game. More info on this super-fun looking sport can be found here Sepak Tekraw (we would later catch a game of professional Tekraw on TV but this street version was always more entertaining). For dinner we made the mistake of eating at a touristy restaurant. We quickly learned that if you want Lao food, eat where the locals eat. We were also approached during this meal by two young girls, begging. I've never had to turn a blind eye to 8 year old beggars and it's quite difficult when they basically join you for dinner and refuse to leave. I gave them some money which only fueled their clinginess. After our meal, a glance back over the shoulder saw the two of them scarfing down our leftovers with gusto. I was happy that the restaurant owner never asked them to leave for the sake of her wealthy foreign customers. Her sympathy for the girls seemed genuine and the situation was always ours to deal with as we felt appropriate (awkwardly).

March 15th - Luang Prabang, Villages and Drunken Leaders

Our last morning in Vientianne. We hit the famous morning market after another round of European baked goods and coffee. The morning market, and all Lao markets, are an important part of daily life. Rural folks either ship their goods or truck them in to the nearest metropolis for sale to tourists and more often to Thai merchants. The Thais then resell them at a mark-up back home. Bargaining is commonplace but it feels funny to haggle someone down from $1.50 to $1.25 if you're not buying wholesale. Plus, I was a sucker for those cheery Lao grins.

In the afternoon, the group headed to the airport for our flight to Luang Prabang. Lao Airways was nice enough to provide water, a wet nap and some tamarind chews for the flight. Unfortunately, they chose these luxuries in favor of air conditioning, but it was only 95 degrees outside. Maybe 110 on the plane. Regardless, we safely landed in Luang Prabang. The former capital of Laos, it's a picturesque city located in the mountains along the Mekong (btw, it's may-kong) river.

After arriving in town and checking in to another lovely guest house we piled in the tuk-tuk for a trip to some local villages.


Various crafts and necessities are still made by the surrounding villages who employ a socialist/communist mentality to their work. In the blacksmith village, 80% of the families work the trade, and a percentage of all goods sold go into a community fund. This eventually pays for events such as weddings, funerals or illness. With the gradual opening of the countries borders the youth are increasingly exposed to technology and opportunity. It's inevitable that the traditional village life will disappear in time. For now, however, we got to see some great stuff. Blacksmithing over a hot fire in 90 degree heat. Silk weaving, complete with silk worms slithering in a basket and paper making from pulp to product. We even witnessed the cycle of life with some newly hatched chicks puttering around next to a grill of freshly bbq'd hen feet. Mmm delish!






It was a long and tiring day so Karen and I treated ourselves to the fanciest joint in town for dinner. L'Elephant is a French restaurant where a three course dinner with wine and beer only runs you $30. Robbery in most parts of Luang Prabang but a needed respite for us.

We returned home to find our fearless leader, Bom, obliterated. He made the guest house attendant run out and grab a bunch of Beerlao while he regaled us with jokes, stories and famous quotes from classic films such as Con Air. "Put... the bunny... back... in... the box!"

March 16th - Dengue Fever, Riverboats and Night Clubs

I awoke this morning feeling sick. The dull ache in my joints and a general malaise made me think I'd contracted the dreaded Dengue Fever. Karen was more certain it was an acute form of hangover attributed to Beerlao, of which I'd again consumed too much. Beerlao, Beerlao, where are you now? The day's itinerary began with a tour of the Royal Palace Museum. In 1975, the King and Queen were ousted from the Royal Palace and shuttled to the hills where they lived out their lives in seclusion and mystery. Word of their death in the late 1990's did not reach the Lao people until a couple of years after their demise. Apparently, they were shamed by their inability to unite the Lao kingdoms thereby allowing the commies to take over. Regardless, I slugged through the rather empty palace trying not to pass out on the royal throne which was never to be sat in again. The end of the museum held a number of display cases with gifts from various countries bestowed upon the king. The cases were filled with beautiful jewels, china, silver and gold. Except the case from the USA. It held, I kid you not, the key to San Francisco, a model of the lunar spacecraft resembling a project by the young astronauts club, and a plaque commemorating Thomas Dooley III. Apparently, our government cleaned out the White House junk closet and shipped the contents to Laos in a display of goodwill.

We then boarded a riverboat which would lead us on a 2-hour float up the Mekong to the mysterious tourist attraction, the Pak Ou (or Buddha) Caves. I was still quite lethargic as we plodded against the current, making one stop to drop off some monks who'd hitched a ride. Is that a Nike bag?
Before the caves, we stopped for a quick lunch at a restaurant along the river. The bathroom at this joint was typical of the region. An Eastern-style squat toilet with no flushing mechanism. Instead, you were provided a bucket in a tub of water. I never used the bucket -- sorry person after me. The caves were interesting if only for the sheer number of buddhas and the bats on the ceiling. At this point, I was feeling better and looking forward to our next stop, the whiskey village. The national drink in Laos, despite my efforts to change matters, is not Beerlao. It's a rice whiskey called Lao Lao. The marketing people over there are really on to something. The Lao Lao distillery, pictured below, is not what I expected. Just a couple of tubs on a hill. After the tour we cruised downstream and got ready for the farewell dinner, which was pushed up a day because Jun was heading back to Tokyo.



It was held at a restaurant called the Three Elephants. Bom's instructions were to meet at the "elephant restaurant." Unaware that Luang Prabang held no fewer than 6 eateries with elephant in the title, the group was split at two different places for a good hour. Eventually, I embarked on a mission to find the others and encountered a sweaty Bom riding his bike on a similar mission. During dinner it was suggested we all head to a night club after eating. Karen and I had routinely been awaking circa 5 AM and falling asleep by 9 or 10. Despite the fast approach of my bedtime, I couldn't help but wonder what took place at a nightclub in this old-fashioned, conservative country. It was even stranger than I'd imagined. In the dark, black-lit, smoky room, everyone was seated on large u-shaped sofas facing the dance floor and the stage. On stage was a band performing Lao pop music that was somewhere between Astrud Gilberto and Styx. The keyboard player was barely visible behind a rig of 15 synths. The drummer with his machine-like precision clearly knew these songs and ONLY these songs, but he could play them flawlessly, as he had hundreds of times before. After 10 minutes of music, some Lao women cautiously approached the dance floor and began a dance akin to a slow-motion Macarena. In another ten-minutes the foreigners hit the dance floor as if the tunes were being spun by Sasha and Digweed. Flailing maniacally around the two-stepping Lao folk, the bizarre cacophony of sights that ensued had me chuckling in my chair until Wasa dragged me into the mix. I feigned enjoyment despite my embarrassment. This cycle of events was played out over the next hour or so until the band packed it in and Madonna rose on the speakers. The strange thing was, the Lao style dancing never really changed. The foreigners only became more belligerent.

March 17th - Alms, Waterfalls, "Pet the Tiger"

The group met at 6 AM so we could give alms to the monks. Every morning, the monks will leave the temples as the rooster crows (actually, the damn roosters woke up around 4 AM, and there were lots of roosters in Luang Prabang) and line the streets receiving alms from the common folk. It's a sacred tradition that allows one to earn brownie points with God and earn a place in paradise. I was a bit unclear about the idea of paradise however, as we had been told by our guide in Vientianne, "Asyoumayknow, in my conetryyy, we believe in reincarnation. Reincarnation, which we believe in my conetryyy..." So do I come back as an eagle or go to paradise? Anyway, we woke up early and headed into town to purchase some sticky rice. Kneeling on the side of the road, the monks walk past and we quickly grab a ball of rice and drop it into their bowl, taking care not to touch the monk OR the bowl, thus relegating you to hell or a future life as a cockroach. Two things struck me during this ritual. The rice was extraordinarily hot, so attempting to get the burning grain from your hand while passing it into the speedy monk's bowl required the utmost concentration. Secondly, I was fairly certain that I saw some Power Bars in a few of the bowls. Asking Bom about this later, he said, "Yeah, you can put anything in there I guess." If I had known that, I would have bought some bagel eggers and really upped my credit with the big guy.

After breakfast we hopped in a tuk tuk and took a bumpy one-hour ride to the Kuang Si waterfalls. On our way to this serene destination we decided to stop and take an elephant ride. It was a bit depressing. For one, we found the two aged elephants chained to a tree aside a construction site. The "handlers" possessed both a wooden stick and a claw-like device resembling a sickle. The stick was used to thwap the poor beast when he/she didn't want to move and the claw was hooked into his forehead and yanked side to side as a makeshift steering device. After Karen and I boarded our elephant he became startled when forced to move past the cement mixer (they were dirt roads!!) and the combo claw/club was employed to scoot the beast along. Two minutes into the ride we wanted off. The big guy eventually made it past after the mixer was turned off and the remainder of the trip was tolerable. I found the elephants quite agile despite their lumbering gait and was impressed as they tore up entire bushes as a snack with a yank of their trunks.


The falls were beautiful. We waded in the pool at the base and trekked to the top where strange signs were posted warning you of the danger. After relaxing for some time we found a wooded restaurant located next to the tiger and bears.



Bom had told us that while at the falls we could see some bears and pet the tiger. All rescued from the hands of poachers as infants, they are too domesticated to be released into the wild. In the morning he had purchased a few pounds of raw meat and a bunch of bunches of bananas. During lunch, much to my chagrin, it was discovered that the tiger was named Phet. Phet the tiger. Whether this is some sort of running joke with the owner, I'll never know. Regardless, we found Phet (an Indochinese tiger) in her cage. She has a much larger enclosure where she spends the night. We were shown how to take a slab of beef and slap it on the bars while Phet's massive jowls snatched it away inches from your hand. Many of us were too skittish and our meat would fall to the floor for Phet's big paw to swoop out and grab. One of us insisted on making sure the meat was in the perfect spot as the jungle cat nearly chomped off her hand. She was later scolded by her husband for this display of bravado (she insists that Phet appreciated not having to eat meat off the grimy floor). The funny thing was, we did get a chance to pet the tiger. Karen partook, but for some reason, I just watched. Next we took our bananas out back to the cage of Asiatic Black Bears. Bears? Bananas? Who knew? As soon as the scent of our fruit hit the enclosure, the bears all stood on their hind legs and made limp Chewbacca-like noises as we tossed them banana after banana. Man those bears were funny. We then cruised back to town through rolling hills and rice paddies.

Back in town Karen and I got ourselves a traditional Lao massage. It was one of those painful experiences that you tell yourself is gonna feel great later on. We had a nice dinner after an exhausting day at which point I realized I'd lost one of our credit cards (fed inadvertently to Phet perhaps?).