Avoiding a near rip-off experience, we managed to make our way into Kuala Lumpur from the airport by train, and then taxi to the hotel.

Mm. The hotel. We’re staying in the “Sheraton Imperial” (”Motha fucka!” is the appropriate postfix when making it clear that, yes, it truely is impressive to us paupers) Our room was paid for back some time ago, when we were booking our plane tickets. Luckily. I’m pretty much out of money now, and yet staying in luxurious comfort. Walking into this room was the first time I’ve actually experienced anything like culture shock. Seriously.

The weather here is tropical. Hot and humid, basically.. reminds me of Singapore, what I remember of it. People are really polite, and not just the hotel staff, who regardless of their position are all smiles and hellos and leaping to open doors for you and stuff. (As they should be! I DEMAND this service everywhere I go!)

The city is fairly young, most of the development taking places in the 90s, so the architecture is modern, and the infrastructure is ridiculously well set up. There is a monorail, along with a bunch of trains that run around the city. Everyone seems to drive everywhere, since it’s so friggin hot. (and this is like, the tail end of winter.. 30+ degrees)

We saw a bit of China town - the usual market situation, with plenty of cheap designer knockoffs and fruit for sale, saw this Islamic art museum, our exploration of which was cut short due to stabbing hunger pains. We’ve been to a few other places as well. It’s all really “civilised” and the skyline is about as futuristic as I’ve ever seen.

It’s the Chinese New Year at the moment and today there was a display of “roaring lions” in the lobby of the hotel.. red-clad dudes paired up in lion suits, displaying well choreographed acrobatic skillz. Very impressive, and convincing too. Easy to stop thinking of this lion as a suit with two guys in it, and more as a big, well manipulated puppet, or something. Twas cool. Lili’s playing photographer, now that it’s game over for my camera, so bug her for pictures.

I like this city. This is multiculturalism done properly. Hindu Indians, Muslims, Chinese and Malays all living together seemingly quite happily.

It’s been a while since the last post, and this is definitely more of a retrospective, since I’m in Malaysia now but barely scraped the surface of the Thailand experience.

Bangkok is a big place. The infrastructure seems functional, but the traffic is seriously something else. I read somewhere that, some days, during rush hour, the carbon monoxide levels in the city reach “international danger levels”… I’m guessing that that means your tuk-tuk driver could just up and die on you while waiting in a traffic jam, but it didn’t happen to us.

We stayed in China town, in a small, hot backpacker place. Compared to Chiang Mai, Bangkok seemed like a real place.. not something evolved into a strange tourist draw. People, everywhere, were getting on with their lives. Things were noisey, busy and confusing.

We made the call to stay in China town, rather than the backpacker district, learning from mistakes we’ve made several times now. The reward was getting to stay somewhere which wasn’t packed with touts trying to get their hooks into some tourist money. The food seemed pretty genuine and things were lively, in less of a top-50 pirate music “shake yo’ braided hair’n booty” kind of way, and far more a “wow, these people seem in a hurry to get to places.”

So yeah, the vibe was good. I liked the city. Fortunately, we explored something we haven’t really done much of in our travels - taking transport to get to remote locations. Rather than our usual style, walking for hours and hours every day and tiring ourselves out until we weren’t enjoying ourselves, we took fairly cheap tuk-tuks. Saw the backpacker district, thanked the lor’ je-zeus for our aforementioned decision, bought some stuff. Saw river city (a shopping centre, lest you get the wrong idea, we -did- focus on retail commerce…) and admired some artifacts and antiques that were well out of our price range, and brought up some internal conflict in me - do private collectors deserve the booty of Angkorian carvings plundered and sold in neighbouring countries to rich antique dealers? (mmm.. maybe?) Went to some road packed with big brand shops and business people having lunch.

We generally chilled out and got a taste of the place. Took the train to the airport which was much less difficult than we anticipated, and finally flew out for a short trip to Malaysia. Our plane was delayed about two hours, so the airline bought everyone lunch at the airport, and then SERVED US FOOD ON THE FLIGHT ANYWAY! Man. Didn’t think you’d get a meal on an hour and a half long flight.. but these Asian airlines seem generous like that.

And.. that was the end of Thailand.

We’re in Chiang Mai, a city located near the centre of Thailand.

It’s a busy place, comprising of a once-walled, moat encircled old city, and a much larger, sprawlier expanse of everything else.

The city is definitely a tourist destination. There are whiteys everywhere. There are lots of Thai girls going about with foreign men. Plenty of clubs, eateries (serving the same muted brand of Thai that the Thai places in Australia serve,) clothing shops, electronics boutiques, etc etc.

It’s rather disconcerting, having come from China, where you’re “lucky” to see another tourist even in places like Kunming which, while far from being Hong Kong, is a significant city and centre of commerce in its own right.

There is very little to remind me that I’m in a foreign place. There are Australian accents arround every corner, and lurking in every whore-flooded bar pumping teeny bopper music. Hell, they even drive on the correct side of the road here. (the left, yankee!)

However, thinking about it earlier, I realised that Thailand is a much older country than many. Culture and traceable history reaching back a long time, to say nothing of their ruined temples and more remote regions in the north. The tourist dollar is clearly helping build a functional infrastructure here, given that there was a well maintained road from our starting point in the north, to here - the start of the perportedly more modernised southern region.

Be that as it may, ground zero is an ugly place. We haven’t encountered a greater concentration of the fat, or greying, or Australian, or otherwise repulsive tourist archtypes anywhere else we’ve been. There’s barely a backpacker to be seen! That’s saying something.

On the other hand, there are some awesome side effects to be witnessed. The night bazaar is, as the name implies, a market that operates at night. With the exception of some unique boutiques selling handmade clothing, anything you can buy in Chiang Mai can be had at an unfixed price at the night bazaar.

Aside from the over abundance of fake designer jeans, pirate media, watches and cheap jewellery, there are also stalls selling relatively tame weapons. Automatic electrically operated airsoft BB guns, knives in every cruel configuration you can imagine (why stop at folding, pocket and dagger, when you can have butterfly, flick, and nastily eye-width spaced clawlike punch knives as well?!) ninja stars, bottles of mace sold in shrink wrapped pairs, nunchuks, extendable batons, crossbows. Am I getting carried away? This is like some fictional China town from a science fiction novel. We walked past one of these places to see a bemused tourist being chased out by a laughing Thai man wielding a stunner, two inch blue arc marking some stupid voltage anywhere between 40,000 - 70,000 volts passing by in uncomfortably close proximity.

I like the night bazaar. A woman was selling the unquestionably cool and original T-shirt designs of a friend of hers studying in Bangkok. I bought four, Lili bought 2. Most impressive and artistically authentic thing I’ve seen yet.. particularly awesome when juxtaposed against the cookie-cutter paintings of buddahs and cast bronze figurines which have been available for sale in EVERY country we have visited.

Little indications that individuals are creating new culture in the places we visit are encouraging. Even in China we found ourselves in a weird little shop which sold, exclusively, weird bits and pieces based on the strange character designs of some random guy. Anything from gloves, keychains and mobile phone danglies, to bags, shirts and anything else you can stick a drawing onto.

As previously mentioned, the looming end to our travels gives pause for reflection. Thailand is a strange place to hit as our second last destination. It is hot, relatively safe and sane, people drive on the left, there are Aussies everywhere. We might already be home. Talk about a gradual ease back into reality.

I can’t wait to go back to China.

Lili and I had retired to our bunks once again. Bunks on this boat were thin mats on the floor, covered with a thin blanket. Surprisingly comfortable.

Lucile, (Lulu in France, Lili in China, amusingly) who had quickly managed to befriend, seemingly, the entire crew, and all the rest of the passengers, came in and let us know she’d just been told we’d be arriving near in Laos within an hour and a half, and, due to the shallow depth of the Mekong at this time of year, would be taking a smaller boat to Thaliand.

“Cool!” Lili and I hadn’t been expecting to arrive at least until the following night, given the lazy way we were proceeding until that point. We got our gear together and waited out the rest of the trip.

Eventually we pulled up near the bank.. and.. sat, waiting for a while longer.

Ultimately a speedy little thing with a massive engine and one of those whippersnipper type shafts depending into the water, pulled up alongside. Owing to our planning and aggressive nature, Lili and I were among the first in line to get on the thing. Lulu was first, passing her bags to the guy and lowering herself into the rocking boat. Then Lili followed suit, as I passed her gear to the driver. Lili isn’t quite as seaworthy as she might like, she asked Lucile how to say “I’m scared” in Chinese, and, along with “Fuckfuckfuck” repeated it like a mantra, until she was safely aboard, where she hunkered down and did her best not to move an inch. The boat, now half full, was blessed then with my presence, followed by Asing. It looked like we were full, but the driver moved some bags around and three little Chinese people- two women and a boy, crammed in infront of us.

This boat was clearly designed for speed, with other considerations left until later in the design. So much so that the driver was very anxious not to let it bump against the ship we were on. I assume because we could easily get damaged, or.. I suppose thinking about it now, be capsized by the thing if it shifted weight right alongside.

“Xiexie!” We cried to the crew as the boat backed out and turned, and then we were off.. skimming at a ridiculous speed down the Mekong.

Picture the beautiful scene - calm waters, the green of the Mekong’s banks on either side, the setting sun over Myanmar, and eventually Thailand glinting its haze off the water. It was awesome. Lili just kept her eyes shut for most of it, and squeezed my leg in a whiteknuckled grip, still convinced, I think, that if she moved an inch she would tip us.

Eventually we arrived at Chiang Sean, disembarked over another boat and climbed the concrete steps up to the little immigration control office by the bank of the river. I let the bulk of us go ahead, dealing with the weight of my backpack - which I must investigate before we think about getting on a plane - and its significantly less functional nature now my waist strap is half missing.

When I rejoined the group, it became apparent that we were having trouble.

The greasy looking official behind the metal screen was telling us over and over that he stopped stamping passports at 6:00. It was 6:05.

I dumped my stuff and got my passport out. No way in hell I wasn’t being granted entry, damnit!

Asing was pleading to the man to process our entry. The fat fucker, smug behind his screen and heavy green uniform, kept telling us it was too late, the computer was switched off, he stopped at 6:00. The man repeated over and over that this wasn’t an airport, he wasn’t available at all hours. He didn’t seem to be going anywhere, and neither were we.

I stood back, biting my tongue. By some evolutionary sidestep I am entirely unequipped to survive in these situations. I’m looking at the guy and fantasising about waiting by his door on the other side of the building, and punching the side of his big fat head when he finished his shift for the night and emerged. Useless fucking beaurocrat. Authority figures always get my goat.

“Go back!” he told us, “Where to?” I ask, “How? We just came from China, on a boat for three days, our boat is GONE! There’s nowhere for us to go back to.” I point down to the water. He stares at me, expressionless, before switching to Thai and continuing (I assume from the tone) his rhetoric about this not being an airport. Asing lept to the breach, and resumed the pleading.

We assemble our passports and push them through the screen, onto his desk. He ultimately relents.. after half an hour.. and proceeds to hand out little forms. He takes his sweet time, which is fine by me, since apparently it IS his time he’s encroching on now. Stupid little wanker. Mine gets processed first, without any drama, then the others, and finally the Chinese people.

“Welcome to Thailand” offers the arrival card, clearly a mistranslation from the Thai “Go FUCK yourself!”

An hour or so into the ride, the boat seemed to sail directly into the sandy banks of the Mekong. Intentionally, it would seem, for dinner was soon served, and we ate a big meal.

Lili and I were worried that we wouldn’t be able to keep up with a horde of Chinese people, eating communal food.. but we underestimated ourselves. We seemed to be as fast as they, and certianly hungrier. We ate our fill and there was even food left over, which I think went over the side, in the end.

Rather than continuing into the night, everyone turned in and got some sleep. By now we had a forth person in our little cabin - one of the three outlaws - a guy named Asing from Northern India, also studying Chinese in China, Kunming to be exact.

Woke, for a second time, to the sound of Chinese people hawking, hacking, coughing and spitting, and shortly thereafter, by the growl of the ships engine starting up, and soon we were on our way. Seeing the bank passing, I realised that this was, in a symbolic sense at least, definitely a journey towards home. Our trip drawing to an end as we head towards the last major section of our travels - Thailand.

The day wore on at a fairly lazy pace, which saw me sitting around reading and playing my gameboy, pausing occasionally to go outside and enjoy the experience of having Laos on one side, Myanmar on the other, and the narrow rocky stretches of the Mekong below.

We appeared to run aground again, this time in Myanmar, and a few people, myself included went up from to see what was going on.

Reaching the front of the ship, I realised that half the crew were gathered chatting and joking with some local tribal-looking people - dark skinned guys in skirts. Between them, a small doe, dead, legs tied together around a bamboo pole. Some money was exchanged and the Myanmarians left. The deer was carried to the central area behind the engine room and the ship pulled away, once again, heading to Thailand.

The crew immediately set about the carcass. The young guy who met us at the bus stop nearly two days previous, who quite clearly had attention deficit disorder, unsuccessfuly fired up a blowtorch and, as far as I could see, a large section of the metal (luckily) ship, too. One of the older guys sorted the thing out, pumped the pressure up for him and ADD (as Lili came to start calling him) started torching the hair on the beast, while another used a long blade to start scraping away the fur.

The process was a long one, which we eventually grew tired of watching. We sat above decks, watching the Mekong streaming out behind us, drinking green tea and reading.

We stopped again, eventually, and some bits of offal started drifting past. Realising that we were missing the good stuff, Lili and I lept down the stairs.. but too late. The carcass was cleaned and spread open, and the cook was splitting it with his meat cleaver.

Lili bit back frustration as she watched them take the skin off with about as much skill as I, my inexperienced self, could muster if pressed.

We went back up to kill time before lunch was served. The usual rice based fair, this time with wild Burmese venison mixed into the assorted dishes! Mmm, gamey.

By this time, we figured we had another couple of days left on the boat before they finally got us to Thailand, but we were happily resigned to that fate. The food was good, the company fine and we were, at least, heading in the right direction.

Lili had been in contact with a woman who runs the Forrest Cafe in Jing Hong. One of the go-to people for getting on to a cargo boat heading to Thailand.

We were assured that there would be no problems, that we would take a boat the following afternoon and urged to catch the earliest possible bus south to the river-side town where the boat was being loaded.

Sounded all very straight forward - we bought a bus ticket and got the phone number of the captain of the ship, and the next day, hopped on one of the less comfortable busses we’ve taken on our trip. Chinese people smoke, and spit, wholeheartedly. It’s just the way things are there. So we’ve got people all around us smoking, and spitting out the windows. After we load up the bus with people, we set off, heading south. The driver stops every so often to pick up some more people - a few of which seemed to be moving, or something, since they had a LOT of boxes which were stuffed into the aisle, along with our bags, which the driver was too lazy to put on the roof. A guy in front of us had a coke carton tied up with string, which at one point, started whining and yelping, and turned out to contain two puppies. Much to my delight.
So, Lili had this theory that the guy was just pocketting the money from all these additional passengers, and I think she’s probably right, they were paying cash, and there was noone there to ensure this guy paid anyone anything.

The short bus ride turned into a long bus ride, with what appeared to be unscheduled detours to drop these late additions off. The road was, for the most part, impossibly bumpy, and the driver seemed to slow for the most inconsiquential dips in the road, and speed up for the worst of it. I think he was a certified sadist.

Eventually we arrived, and were greeted by some random kid who didn’t speak English. He helped us find a phone, I called the captain, arrangements were made. The kid snatched the phone and, it turns out, also called the captain, who told me to go with the kid, who it so happens also worked on the boat.

We boarded, and settled in, and.. waited. We managed to ask the crew what time we would be leaving. “A few minutes” we were assured. A few hours passed, dinner was served.. we got invited to watch the crew play basketball against the local border guards.. we chatted with an immigration official who kept turning the conversation around to a group of three tourists who we hadn’t encountered. Everything was pretty surreal, but reassuringly friendly and easy. It is worth noting that this little border town has at least TWO basketball courts - one, well kept, right infront of the police station, which is where the game took place. The boat crew lost, just.. and we returned to the ship.

It was getting late when Lucile, a young Frenchy who has been / is studying Chinese in China, boarded the vessel. She was nice and friendly, luckily because the three of us would soon be sharing a tiny cabin. So, dispite the three of us all being under the impression that we would be leaving any moment, night fell and we went to bed.

In the morning, breakfast was served, and we wasted a bit of time going in to town to buy some water and snacks and stuff. Later, the three tourists the border guard had been asking us about turned up at our boat, trying to gain passage to Thailand as well. Apparently another boat had agreed to take them without first checking whether they could get permission to do so. Our crew didn’t seem to want to be troubled with them, probably because we would soon be joined by a whole mob of Chinese people also making the journey, and space on this boat would be at a premium.

These newcomers, a little later, broke the news to Lucile, who passed it on to us, that the ship might not be leaving after all. Given that this was more than half a day after we were scheduled to leave, we didn’t discount the possibility, and started to worry. Lucile, our new translater, queried the crew, who basically told her not to worry. We’ve all come to know, in Asia, that such assurances are often a sure sign of impending trouble.

Not to worry, though.. ultimately the three were allowed on board, and the previously mentioned group of Chinese people also joined us. Ultimately we set sail, and all was well.

Today has been the first to start out with us having no real plans or time restrictions.. so, we didn’t get up until late, preferring to catch up on sleep and oft-sapped energy.

About 5 minutes before we would need to, I suggested we could check out and give ourselves the option of leaving Kunming today, if we so desired. It took a tad over 5 minutes to pack our stuff and sign out, but they didn’t try to charge us for the additional minutes.

The plan, thus far is to take a night bus back the way we came - leaving tonight - and get on a cargo ship to Thailand.

This random plan is justified by the fact that most of China, and its potential experiences, are closed to us, given the language barrier and our lack of planning and preparation. We both agree that we’re going to come back better prepared, probably able to actually speak a little Mandarin, and do this massive country justice.

Conversely, Thailand will be easy. We have books, and they’ll be sickeningly used to talking to English speakers, meaning we’ll hopefully spend our time feeling a bit less lost and at a loss as to what to do.

So, today sucks.

We walked around and had a really nice time. Saw some amazing random things in the streets of Kunming and even happened across a group of kids on big hybrid bmx / mountain bikes pulling tricks to the amusement of a gathering crowd of people..

I had my camera out, as I have been ever since we got here - there are so many awesome things to shoot, really. Anyway, the better of the guys starts showing off and I snapped what I think will turn out to be some nice photos.

We get to this internet cafe, and I plug my camera in with a single shot in mind to upload from today and my camera just fucking quits on me.

I dont know what happened, but I plugged it into the USB port, switched it on and the little metre that reads how many shots you have left on the card was blank. Normally if you dont put a card in it actually says something like “no cf” I think, but this is just blank which is weird. I cant open the menu on the camera either. With the card taken out (out of fear of losing the 200+ shots I took today - overkill, but hey, if you can, why not?) and a battery in, it responds the same.. its like the software is dead or something. I can still fire off the camera as if it’s taking photos though, which is even weirder.

I suspect it is an acknowledged problem with the D70 which turns most of them into ticking bombs waiting to break - which Nikon, regardless of warranty, will fix for free. Unfortunately, I’M IN FUCKING SOUTH EAST ASIA LUGGING AROUND A DEAD CAMERA.

We hung out in the just-north-of-the-border town yesterday and got a bus this morning to Jinghong.

The bus north from Laos was amusing. Valium is available over the counter in Laos and helped get me through the trip without too much bother.. all around me the various westerners (falang) were bitching about how much luggage they were forced to endure stacked around them, meanwhile I just relaxed and enjoyed the process.. it was uneventful, and the bus arrived way later than expected which meant we could get right off at the border. Climbing out the window was easiest and, much to my surprise, getting across the border was a breeze. Intimidating looking officials in their heavy green uniforms doing the paperwork, breaking into grins and joking with us as we went through the process.

A guy with a cycle-cart thing (god knows what they’re called, it sure wasn’t a cyclo) took us to a dodgy hotel and we set out for eats.

Eats consisted of some rice and some dishest of stuff. A whole lotta miming successfully kept me from being peanut poisoned.

Fed and happy we went back to the hotel for something.. I dont remember what, I was still rather sededatedated, with the intention of finding somewhere that sells coffee… no luck, though. We both just passed out on the bed until dinner time and went right back to the same place as lunch.

Things got interesting from there, and ultimately.. out of hand.

Some Chinese guys at the table over from us were in the process of merry making, with a few bottles of beer on the table and some plates of food. One caught my attention, or perhaps visa versa, and gestured to a beer bottle. “Sure!” I nodded emphatically, and he ordered a beer for us. Broken “conversation” continued between us and them for a while, and ultimately one of them brought over a glass of some red concoction and a shot glass. He poured a half finger of the licqour into the glass and gave it to me. I smelt it. It smelt somewhere between brandy and high octain racing fuel, but with what could have been little red sultanas in it.

I had a taste. It tasted like alcohol. No kidding. I’ve tasted metho (dont ask) and I dont even want to think about what proof of alcohol that drink was. The flavour came after. Fruity. I liked it. My glass was filled.

There are large blocks of memory missing between that point, and us ending up in the dingy private room of a karaoke bar, sitting on the floor around a low table, drinking budweiser beer from shot glasses and eating various snackfoods. I do remember eating entire chickens feet, and skewers of tiny meat. I remember caving into the 5th or 6th offer of a cigarette. I remember needing to relieve myself and being acommanied to a chinese public toilet.

Anyone who’s visited south east asia knows all about squat toilets. “Starters blocks” as the kangeroo cafe in vietnam quaintly refers to them. You squat. Do your thing. Pour water in from a nearby drum.

I, luckily, just needed to take a piss.. but this place was aweful. Why bother with drums of water to wash away excrement when you can just shit on the floor and walk away? That’s already enough detail. The place was nasty. I was most amused, while totally reviled.

We got back to the hotel and my stomach decided it didnt want cherry coloured alcohol in it anymore, and so it was unceremoniously expelled.

The next morning we made our way to the bus station, broke fast, then set off on the four and a half hour ride to Jinghong, which is where we are now, full of dumplings and getting ready to navigate (mapless and guidebookless) back to the crappy hotel.

South China is awesome. The people are really friendly and the infrastructure seems to work. Can’t think of anything else worthy of mention, except that I’m starting to wonder if going back to full time work wouldn’t be such a bad thing, vs uni. We’ll see.

So, we went tubing. My camera idea didn’t really work out, but Lili did get a few shots on her memory card of one of the places we stopped on the way that MIGHT give some idea of what the place is like.

You get in a TukTuk, you get driven a few kms from town, and you get dropped off at the river with your big ol’ inner tube.

After helping Lili flop onto her tube and shoving her out into the current, you do the same and, after a few testicle shrinking moments of almost displeasure, you reach a point of comfort and find yourself drifting quite swiftly through some of the most amazing scenery.

The river is crystal clear, cool, slightly green tinged and rocky. The river speeds up over the shallows and there’s a few bends that whip you past some hair raisingly large rocks, but in general it feels safe.

Dotted along the banks, structures of bamboo have been errected to facilitate jumping, swinging, and flying-foxing into the water. At each of these little stations, there are plenty of helpful guys you will pull you ashore with a long bamboo pole and slap a big, cheap, Beerlao into your hands.

Dodgy stereo systems rigged up to a variety of scavanged speakers pump Bob Marley and Limp Bizkit in equal quantities at high levels of distortion and after a few drinks and maybe a bite to eat, you jump back in your tube, beer in hand and keep moving.

There are kids with scratch built spear guns, and guys in boats fishing with cast nets. People washing in the river.

Eventually, and around such a cool bend in the river that you’re glad of it, you’re back on the shores of the river, in what is pretty much the centre of town. A short walk, and you’re back at the guesthouse, having a hot shower and working out what to do next.

It’s.. awesome.