Adventures in the Sun

Weekend markets are a big deal in Thailand, so despite the fact that I had already sent a box of excess clothing home from Chiang Mai; that my suitcase was hopelessly too overweight to take as a carry-on; that my overnight train had been delayed by four hours and I was exhausted - I still had it in me to venture out to Chatuchak Market. Colloquially known as jj market (according to Wikipedia the largest market in the nation), it's a sprawling maze of thousands of stalls vaguely organized into blocks by the type of items sold, interspersed with every type of street food imaginable. Since I arrived two hours before closing I decided to limit myself to the clothing area, yet still didn't make it all the way around the block.

Unlike other markets I've been to where all the vendors seem to be stocked by the same small group of wholesalers, there were many independent and vintage retailers with lots of quirky, unique items. Let me put it this way: even I, arguably a champion shopper, was overwhelmed. Prices are posted but there's still some room for bargaining. I left with some great finds, and managed to still be able to close my suitcase when it came time to leave. Win - win.

The other big draw on the weekends is the floating markets, where vendors hawk their wares from traditional narrow boats. Tour companies have capitalized upon the fact that the biggest ones are far from the city center with overpriced excursions, but you can also find some local ones if you know where to look. So, the following day, I went to Taling Chan with a girl I met at the hostel who is also from Seattle (seriously, I've encountered more Americans in the last three days than I have in the last two months). 

Taling Chan is more of a riverside market, as the only floating bits are the eateries where all the cooking is done on said boats, but it was still very quaint and authentic. The timing worked out for us to take a boat ride around the network of canals to an orchid farm and another market, and while we couldn't understand a word from the guide above the sound of the boat's engine, it was quite an atmospheric journey. We kept marveling at how it didn't feel at all like the bustling Bangkok surrounding our hostel as we passed gorgeous modern houses, overgrown disheveled shacks, iguanas climbing out of the water and even a large decapitated boa constrictor floating near an intersection. 

Of course, a visit to Bangkok wouldn't be complete without seeing the exquisite Grand Palace. I found it difficult to capture all the elaborate details of the buildings while trying to avoid getting hordes of tourists in the frame of my camera, but I think I managed to get at least a few good shots. The sheer opulence - all the gold, jewels and paintings - are simply amazing. There's quite a lot to see within the complex, but eventually the heat got to us so after trudging around and admiring the most important structures we left and had lunch by the nearby pier. 

That afternoon I couldn't bring myself to brave the heat again, so instead of temple-hopping I opted for a different cultural experience: movie-watching. Movie theaters in Thailand are notoriously luxurious (think plush, reclining seats that you get to pick when you buy your ticket; I've paid way more in the states to see films in much crappier conditions), not to mention that before each screening they play the national anthem and everyone rises to salute the king. (But really after not seeing a movie in over two months when my usual rate of consumption is at least one a week the withdrawal symptoms were getting to be too much).

I may not have seen everything on the visitor's bucket list, but between the daytime and nighttime activities I think I hit a good balance. So, Bangkok, it's goodbye for now, but I can't wait to come back when the weather is more tolerable.  

Some photos below, see the rest on Flickr. 

Bangkok After Hours

If Last Life in the Universe was my cinematic reference for Chiang Mai, then Bangkok's has to be Only God Forgives. Without delving too far into critic mode, this second collaboration between Nicolas Winding Refn and Ryan Gosling really doesn't live up to the precedent set by Drive, but aside from a memorable performance from Kristin Scott Thomas, the film presents an eery portrait of the city's nightlife and its main attractions - boxing and sex. 

I've been fortunate enough that physical violence is something I've only ever experienced through the media and entertainment (same for war and, to a certain degree, politics), so seeing an actual fight up close (literally - we had ringside seats) was nothing short of surreal. From watching and studying films, I knew that sound plays a pivotal role in making fight sequences seem real; I was conditioned to expect to hear it each time the fighters made contact, so I was surprised when I didn't. But even though I couldn't hear the impact of each blow, I could sense it in other ways - from the crowd's reaction and the drops of sweat (and occasionally blood) flying through the air. Curiously, the match had a soundtrack of its own: a small band playing traditional instruments. The fighters moved, shifting their weight from side to side in time with the drum beat like a sort of dance.

I had read online that foreigners will occasionally enter the ring, and the night we went was no exception. The most memorable match was between a Polish guy who was at least a good head taller than his Thai opponent. I was hoping that the Thai boxer would wipe the floor with the European but, alas, the white man's reach was longer and he kept going for the head. The Thai guy got him in the crotch pretty early on, and afterwards the Polish boxer became noticeably more vicious. By the final round the Thai boxer seemed to be using all his energy just to remain on his feet; his arms drooped, no longer protecting his head, and he moved sluggishly.

Originally, the other event I was interested in was the famous ping pong shows. No, not people playing table tennis, but rather women shooting a diverse assortment of objects out of their vaginas (including ping pong balls, razor blades and live animals) on a stage. Admit it, the description alone piques curiosity.

But the more I heard about it from others who had gone, the less fascinating it seemed. Apparently the women who perform in the shows are all older - retired prostitutes, I presume - and just, in one traveler's words, "Clearly not wanting to be there." After the initial novelty wore off, the show was just depressing.

So, instead of seeing a ping pong show or ladyboy cabaret, we joined the throng of tourists and locals at Khao San Road, drinking and dancing the night away. For some people nights like those are the reason to go to Thailand, but personally I much preferred Bangkok by day.

Finding Sanctuary at Elephant Nature Park

The mighty elephant. I think my appreciation originated with Babar. There was a phase when each day after school I would come home and immediately pop our worn copy of the animated film into the VCR. I had a stuffed animal too but I'm not sure if he's still hiding out at my parents' house or has moved on to greener pastures.

I missed out on the camel rides in Morocco and India, so when I came to Thailand I was fully intent on doing an elephant trek; it seemed so exotic and, of course, everyone does it. But when I started looking up camps to go to, I had a change of heart. On Koh Chang, even the "best" (i.e. allegedly the most humane) camp had mixed reviews. Most TripAdvisor reviewers raved about the experience, except for the unlucky few who got paired with an abusive mahout (handler) and witnessed their elephant getting beaten with a metal rod until it screamed and sometimes bled. So instead I waited until I got to Chiang Mai, where I took a day trip out to Elephant Nature Park - a sanctuary for retired elephants and rescued dogs.  

Elephants were commonly used in Thailand for logging until the industry was banned in the early 1980s, after which most were appropriated for touristic purposes, either by performing in shows or giving rides. Younger ones are also taken to the streets of some major Thai cities, because they help net their owners more money in one night than the average Thai makes in a week. But no matter the job, the process of domesticating an elephant is absolutely brutal. A young elephant (typically female, because males are more aggressive by nature) is placed in a cage so small she can't move for several days, during which a group of men break her spirit through physical and psychological abuse - prodding her with sticks that have sharp nails sticking out of the end and not allowing her to sleep. Sometimes they gouge her eyes.

About a decade ago, a woman nicknamed Lek established the park as a haven for elephants, rescuing them from the conditions described above. At Elephant Nature Park, the residents can roam free, bathe in the river that runs through the property and get access to medical care and all the food they can eat. It's truly heaven for elephants who are blind from abuse or have broken backs after their former owners repeatedly forced them to mate. Ironically the sanctuary is located adjacent to a number of trekking camps, but our guide says that they maintain a decent relationship by offering free veterinary services. 

The park is a bit expensive to visit (2500 baht for one day), but that's how it manages to stay open. And, in most cases, they have to buy the elephants' freedom in order to save them from cruelty. We didn't do much beyond feeding and bathing the animals and walking around the grounds, but I honestly couldn't have asked for more; I was just in awe the entire time being so close to them. It's also possible to stay overnight, and up to one week, which allows you to do more hands-on activities.  (Little known fact: you can also volunteer to help with the dogs, in which case room and board are free).

In an ideal world the abuse would cease, but the demand from tourists keeps the malpractice alive. So until more visitors show an interest in playing with and caring for the elephants over riding them, the cycle will just continue. 

Falling for Chiang Mai

Despite being Thailand's second-largest city, Chiang Mai has a wonderfully friendly, laid-back vibe with a historical center full of Buddhist temples, coffee shops (with free wifi), delicious street food (a meal will set you back 1-2 USD) and a surprising number of vintage and second-hand clothing boutiques. Call it quirky, hipster, offbeat or whatever other alternative synonym, but the more I wandered around, the more I was reminded of the film Last Life in the Universe.  (Which, if we're being entirely accurate, was actually shot in Bangkok, but whatever it was still my first glimpse of Thailand).

It's the general atmosphere, I guess - a strange serenity beneath which lies a hazy malaise. (Dare I say it's vaguely Lynchian in that respect?) But even years later, I can't think about that movie without also remembering the boy who introduced it to me; who I harbored an all-consuming crush on for much of middle and high school, and who also turned me on to other films that I would later count amongst my favorites. I haven't been in touch with him for quite some time, but I often wonder what he's up to now. (Confession: thanks to Google, I sort of know the answer).

I've never been the type of girl to constantly chase after potential boyfriends, but the amount of wedding and engagement updates polluting my Facebook newsfeed in recent months has got me thinking or, to be perfectly honest, feeling slightly anxious. I thought your (early) twenties was the time to figure yourself out and start a career, not a family.  But to each their own priorities, I suppose.

And yet, these days I find myself reflecting on the last few guys I felt any kind of connection with; the one that I met my last night at Stanford; the platonic friend in Paris who surprised me with a kiss when we said goodbye; the one that I came to know during my last hours in India. (If there's one generalization I can make about my personal life it's that the timing is always suboptimal). I know that it's dangerous to spend too many thoughts elaborating on the words "what if," but sometimes temptation wins out over logic and reason. 

What if I hadn't left when I did? Where would we be now? 

*** 

If you go... 

Enjoy coffee and unpretentious health food at Bird's Nest Cafe. 

Take a class at Yoga Tree (drop-ins welcome). 

Get a massage, meal or both at the Chiang Mai Women's Prison Massage Center, which equips inmates with vocational skills.

*** 

Cooking in...Thailand

I was preparing to exit the partitioned area designated for women passing through security at Indira Gandhi International Airport, when the agent, before handing back my passport and boarding pass, decided to grill me a little on my next destination.

"What's so special about Thailand?" 

I'm sure she meant it in a friendly way but, in my flustered mind, after someone frisks me all I can think about is getting my personal space back.

"Uh...the food?" 

She smiled, but evidently this was not the answer she was looking for because she repeated the question. Thinking about my imminent flight to Bangkok, the first things that came to mind were boxing matches, burlesque shows and clubbing. Probably not good answers either. I thought harder.

"The Golden Palace! The temples!"

Learned how to make roses out of tomato peels.

Success. She handed over my things and I continued on my way. But as I headed toward my gate, I couldn't help but feel a little indignant. Combining my inner foodie and anthropologist, cuisine speaks volumes about local culture and history, from the ingredients used (indigenous versus introduced through trade) to the cooking methods. I think food is a perfectly valid reason to visit a place, which is why I've been so adamant about taking cooking classes wherever I go (see: Spain, Morocco, India). (On another cultural note, it's interesting to see - taste, rather - how authentic cuisine varies from the Americanized versions I'm used to eating at home).

On my last day on Koh Chang, I went up the coast to the Klong Prao area for a lesson with Ya at Blue Lagoon Cooking School. And, seriously, I cannot say enough good things about this place. First of all, the space: an open-air kitchen and dining area, partially situated over a river. So much attention has been paid to every little detail, from the general atmosphere and lighting to small touches like wrapping each place setting in banana leaves tied with a piece of twine. Presentation - even of the raw ingredients - was paramount; my pickiest chefs at LCB would have been pleased.

And then there's Ya -  a cool, funny, knowledgable Thai lady really passionate about food. She took the time to explain the overall significance of various staples of the Thai diet and how they're used beyond cooking, and still managed to teach us how to make a plethora of dishes. Not to brag or anything, but I was the most dedicated student. My peers, two middle-aged French women, left before the dessert course. ("Ooh la la, c'est trop!") So at the end I was rewarded with little bundles of sticky rice wrapped in leaves.

I won't reproduce the recipes here, because we really did cover a lot, but if you're lucky maybe I will impart some of my knowledge upon returning home. Thanks to Ya, I can make some kick-ass pad thai, fried rice, tom yum, tom kha, green mango salad, satay sauce and sticky rice with mango. Feast your eyes below and see more of Koh Chang on Flickr.

Lonely Girl Goes to Lonely Beach

My dad sent me a message a few days after I arrived in India, saying that there was nothing wrong with bailing out early and heading somewhere else. For contrary to what most backpackers would probably advise, I had my complete three-month itinerary fully fleshed out before I left Paris with almost everything booked and ready to go; it's the Type A virgo in me that feared not being able to get to my next destination because maybe the flight was fully or the price had spiked and exceeded my budget. Besides, I like knowing where I'll be in x days. Uncertainty is my greatest fear and enemy.

Lonely Beach.

I wanted to fall in love with India, I suppose because I had such a romanticized, exotic vision of it going in, but the turning point came fairly early on in Agra when I began to feel overwhelmed. Too much heat and humidity. Too much unwanted attention. Too much anxiety over getting sick. (As much as I love dal, curries, naan and rice, I missed being able to enjoy summer staples like salads, fresh fruit and iced drinks). These were a lot of the same issues I had in Morocco, only there it was more tolerable because I was rarely alone.

India has backpackers in the sense that there are plenty of foreigners around carrying weeks/months' worth of stuff on their backs, but it lacks the youth hostel culture that has been integral in me making new friends on this trip. Instead there are guest houses and luxury hotels, neither of which are particularly conducive to meeting people. (I did manage to socialize with other travelers; just noticeably less than in previous countries). I was already heading to Bangkok and Chiang Mai after...but wasn't everyone always raving about Thai beaches?

So, it was decided: I would cut out Jaisalmer, and take a much-needed vacation from vacation. Lonely Beach on Koh Chang seemed appropriate and, conveniently, I could get there by bus directly from BKK airport. (Lonely Beach is actually a misnomer; normally it's party central for the budget traveler set but since this is low season it was pretty chill). The problem was that I'm not good at doing nothing. 

Here is what I did on the first day:

Woke up around 10am.

Ate breakfast.

Went to the beach and sprawled out in the sun.

Thought about writing or taking photos, but pulled neither notebook nor camera out of my bag.

Stayed until it started raining.

Ate a late lunch.

Got a Thai massage.

Still raining.

Got a pedicure.

Walked along the short street that constitutes the "village" of Lonely Beach.

Returned to bungalow and lounged in hammock.

Ate dinner.

Read in bed.

Went to sleep.

Chill time.

As lovely as it was, I knew that I would die of boredom before enduring two more days like that. So I started planning.

The following day I went with Koh Chang Boat Tours out to several nearby islands for a day of swimming, snorkeling and squinting out at the sun reflecting off the endless undulating sea. Except for some initial rockiness that made some passengers sea sick (and for me induced a hangover-like desire to curl up into a ball and not move), it was great. I felt like a little kid again splashing through schools of fish and checking out coral and sea urchins on the ocean floor. 

I got thoroughly sunburnt, which I'm actually okay with because it ought to help restore my skin to being a uniform color. Having eschewed tank tops, shorts and dresses for the last five weeks out of respect for certain sartorially conservative countries, my arms are quite brown as are my perpetually sandaled feet, as though these parts belong to a different ethnicity. (Many Thai people have asked me if I'm Vietnamese, whereas at home my usual shade of pale tends to beg the question, "Are you Korean?")

Next time: I take a Thai cooking class.