totallygone

travel, at a tangent


Going, going, (Totally) Gone

For the next couple of weeks, until 12 June, I'll be at Suan Mokkh, in search of the ultimate nature of reality. This means 11 days of total silence (not a glance, a gesture, a word or a whimper), fasting from noon until breakfast, celibacy, and a whole lot of patience. Send me your good wishes - those of you who know me well will be that this will be a MAJOR challenge. Will post again on my return. with love, Sxxx


Social Bookmarking
Add to: Digg Add to: Del.icio.us Add to: Reddit Add to: StumbleUpon Add to: Furl Add to: Yahoo Add to: Google Add to: Technorati


Back to Unreality

So, I survived the tempests and the steep, treacherous roads of Koh Chang, along which the girls and I drove little Yamaha scooters to Bang Bao, a tiny fishing village on the island's south coast. A lovely day - we sat in one of the seafood restaurants sipping fruit juice and learning Thai from the phrase book - the essentials, like "do you understand?" (in Thailand, as in India, people will smile and say "yes" even when they don't understand you. Unlike dear ol' Blighty, where at best you'll get a blank look or someone's back. So, our drinks arrived, . Soft drinks tend to be sweetened to a nauseating degree and sometimes, as dear Janice found to her cost, salted too. Along with malaria, the risk of contracting diabetes is a major hazard here.) The method in this madness is to protect against dehydration - enemy #3 after heat and humidity. At 95F and 95% respectively, the sensation against the skin is akin to that of being hugged by a very heavy, sweaty lover when all you want to do is sleep. So we then found "without sugar" in Practical Thai, for future reference, and headed back to our beachside bungalows. Returning from the village in our sweet-sour state, the girls' scooter decided to part company with them on a particularly steep and dangerous bend. (Neither the Romans nor Hitler made it to Koh Chang, so there're no straight roads.) Although they sustained no major injuries, Janice left some of her knee on the road, but was good humoured enough to remark later that, unlike in the case of John F. Bobbit, there was no point in trying to run back and fetch it.


Zoe eventually arrived, having travelled three hours across the straits from one sunny, deserted island where she'd been enjoying Garboesque solitude sans clothes, to our rainy, comparatively busy one. However, the two of us managed a midnight skinny-dip in the lukewarm shallows - you can swim for a 1/2 mile and still touch sand - watching and listening to the storms circling the island. We left the island two days later for Bangkok, parting company with Janice and Alex at Trat, where they set off for Cambodia and the temples of Angkor Wat. They have something of a taste for luxury, so Cambodia may prove to be a bit of a challenge.


Bangkok, Reloaded!
After a 6-hour journey in a coach with arctic air-conditioning, we arrived in Bangkok and set about looking for a place to stay. I'd abandoned the Atlanta, feeling someone oppressed by the countless rules and regulations, and the fact that the founder was a German chemical engineer....

So, we headed to the Khao San Rd., Bangkok's "premier" destination for long-term travellers, backpackers, cheapskates, freeloaders and all sorts of human flotsam and jetsam. Imagine yourself runway modelling, along the centre of London's Carnaby St., or New York's Canal St., to the mixed and magnified sounds of Enya, Arrowsmith, Britney and Robbie, with a vast crowd of European, Australian and American youths swerving towards you uncontrolledly in an intoxicated scrum. The concrete "catwalk" is lined not with photographers but with a host of baying stallholders selling everything from pirate music to prosthetic penises, all at hugely inflated prices. That's the Khao San Road!


So, we found our way north, by word-of-mouth, to the aptly named Shanti Lodge - Zoe having heard that it was a cool place to stay. Indeed so - we were given a room with A/C, a fan, en-suite and access to good vegetarian food, Thai Massage, a travel agency and close access to the river. All for about GBP10 per night.

The following day we took the boat from our local pier to Wat Po, famous for its huge reclining Buddha and traditional Thai Massage courses. Scammers lie in wait along the approach to the temple, all with the same story. "Today is Buddha Holiday/visit of King to temple. Temple closed. I offer you cheap travel around city only 1000 baht per day." Lies, Lies, Lies. No holiday, no King. Bangkok, portal to the Matrix. Even the people here morph into something else as you study them; in the Central department store, Bangkok's version of John Lewis or maybe Sears, I stopped at a cosmetics counter to ask if they sold my favourite eau. The assistant was absurdly beautiful - an oriental Bond girl with exquisite skin, almond-shaped eyes and long glossy black hair in a geisha cut. "Over there, sir," he answered in a husky male voice. With total control, I suppressed my start and thanked him kindly, reminding myself that the ladyboys here are just one manifestation of Bangkok's hallucinogenic nature.



Technotronic
On her last night, Zoe and I headed for Bangkok's World Trade Center to see the long-awaited Matrix, Reloaded. Late for our movie, with just over hour to spare before its beginning, we spent it at Major Bowl, the bowling alley adjoining the multiplex.
One of the most paradoxical yet charming aspects of this city is the fact that, in spite of the peace-loving nature of its citizens, their love of stimulus is completely off the scale. Accordingly, Major Bowl resembles the set of Tron, a futuristic, hi-tech, world bathed in ultraviolet light and techno music. Everything is automated, from the bowling-shoe dispensers to the LCD displays keeping score on your table. Perfectly groomed attendants keep you fed and watered with a selecton of brightly-coloured, highly-flavoured cocktails and an eclectic mix of food, while the neon-coloured balls zoom up the aisles and back down to the feeders. An animated display above your spot gives tips on how to position the ball, so in spite of losing (Zoe has laser-guided targetting), I managed a strike and a decent score.


Wake up, Neo
So, still buzzing from the amphetamine rush of Major Bowl, we stepped from one realm of the Matrix into another - the WTC Cineplex. Eschewing honeymoon seats in favour of "regular" ones (think BA Club class seats; huge velvet recliners positioned for optimum audio-visual input), we stood for the national anthem and mini-feature on the Thai Royal Family, rocked and gasped our way through the Charlie's Angels preview (what a trip! - the preview alone more fun than most movies), and let the special effects and choreographed action scenes wash over us for a couple of hours. Superb. But why didn't someone wake Keanu up before turning the camera on him?


Social Bookmarking
Add to: Digg Add to: Del.icio.us Add to: Reddit Add to: StumbleUpon Add to: Furl Add to: Yahoo Add to: Google Add to: Technorati


Virtually Marooned

The island paradise of Koh Chang has, since my last post, been beset by tropical storms. If you?ve seen the photographs on the tourist info site, you?ll have noticed how very green the island is; it was explained to me by a very sweet Israeli who runs and internet shop closeby that the forests owe their colour to the huge amounts of rain that fall here. Little did I know?! Over the past couple of nights, the girls and I have entertained ourselves with Chang beer and backgammon while imprisoned in our resort by the great deluges of rain hurled from black skies brightened briefly by tremendous thunderbolts ? sheets and forks of blue light connecting the heavy sky with the roaring sea. Paradise, LOST! I've been writing this post offline - the electrical fields generated by the weather create a barrier between the satellites above and the computers beneath, so these words have been sitting on the desktop of my machine, patiently awaiting their little space odyssey. Fortunately, our spirits are higher than the dewpoint, and we?re finding our situation truly hilarious. Alex made a special reqest for me to mention how difficult it is to get anything done here, and I must say she?s absolutely right. During the increasinly infrequent breaks from the rain, inertia, enemy #1 of the long-term traveller, makes it near impossible to move, even from hammock to coffee-shop. So far, we?ve visited neither waterfalls, wats, or other beauty spots. Zoe, who overslept and ended up on the wrong island, arrives this afternoon, if she survives the three-hour trip from Koh Makh to Koh Chang across the tempestuous straits. So we?ll be able to play doubles, while watching the water fall.

I've changed my plans yet again (what freedom!) and on the recommendation of my friend Angel (by name and nature), decided to spend the first part of next month at the Suan Mokh monastery. Since Kopan, my meditation practice has diminished completely and I?m back to my old scatty self, making trips between cafe and bungalow to rescue wallet, keys, walkman, sandals etc. Y'all know what I' m talking about. Remedial action will take the form of a ten day Vipassana retreat, accompanied by yoga sessions in the morning. Look forward to a brand new me - so thin, so calm, I'll be entirely unrecognizable!


Social Bookmarking
Add to: Digg Add to: Del.icio.us Add to: Reddit Add to: StumbleUpon Add to: Furl Add to: Yahoo Add to: Google Add to: Technorati


Island Life

No, I'm not gone - well, not totally. But I'm tempted! After weeks of battling with dodgy computers that've ruined my attempts to post, I've finally reached the peak of technological prowess - satellite internet! My new home-from-home, the tropical island paradise of Koh Chang, lacks terrestrial access to the mainland, so I've resorted to the fast but expensive solution of writing to you via outer space. Is it good for you too? I've been here for about a week, and have managed to drag myself away from the beaches (think Bounty ads without the fat content). I've found a bungalow near the beach - A-frame on the outside, Green Gables on the inside. It's expensive - nearly a tenner a night, but well worth it. A wonderful place for a honeymoon - if there's anyone out there that fancies one, I'm STILL single. I travelled here with three English girls - friends I made at the Atlanta Hotel in Bangkok - a fellow Indiaphile called Jo, and Alex & Janice - a truly wonderful couple who've been keeping me entertained while we've been waiting for the sun to appear. Their gaydar was alerted by my recent and most favourite purchase - a pair of blue swimming-trunks with a rather fetching white stripe around the waistband. The "Hom" logo is there for those who are too dumb to guess. It's all a bit hetero in these parts, but there are lesbians a-plenty. And I'm in the midst of them! I'm waiting for my friend Zoe, whom I met at Kopan, to arrive from Delhi, and we'll have our own gay cabal. I'll be here for a few more days before heading to Chiang Mai to study Thai Massage. Then I'll slowly make my way homewards via mainland Europe. SARS is remarkably absent in these parts, but I'm in danger of becoming waterlogged - the rainy season is just beginning and torrential rain has been soaking the island (and me) for the past couple of days. The storms are amazing, the crash-and-bang of the thunder drowning out, momentarily, the extraordinary noises that pervade the wet air - the maddening trill of crickets, dry croaking of a billion tiny toads, and the truly bizarre groaning of great frogs in the rivers behind our resort. Starting off with a lower-gut growl, the croak rises a few notes both in tone and volume, resulting in a sound not dissimilar to the doppler drone of Formula One racing cars. So getting to sleep is a bit of a challenge, but it's a welcome change from Bangkok, where silence is perhaps the most expensive commodity in town.

Faking It in BangkokThe term "ontological insecurity," used by philosophers and psychologists to describe the eerie sensation that one's surroundings are somewhat (or completely) unreal, is possibly the most accurate way of describing life in Bangkok. Returning here from India was an entirely different experience than my last arrival here six months ago. Being used to seeing local people wearing local clothing, for example, it was odd to see everyone here wearing European and American-style clothes, makeup etc. Not only that; Bangkok is choc-full of westerners. Not classy ones. It seems that at some point a whole section of humanity discovered that swathes of the Costa del Sol were really naff, and they could come here and shag gorgeous girls, boys, or something between the two, buy knock-off CDS/DVDs, designer gear etc, all for the price of a couple of weeks in Torremolinos. And here they are. I'd had the time of my life in India, and left on a real high - the SARS scare meant that my night-flight from Delhi to BKK was so empty that I had a window seat and two empty seats next to me - as did most of the other passengers. A few (American) flyers at Delhi were wearing masks, but most of didn't bother. The real risk was from the airline food; generic curry accompanied by the most disgusting sandwich I've ever suffered - a square of soft, slippery and bright orange Kraft cheese cushioned between two slices of moist, white, warm Nimble (believe it, it's true. They're still knocking that stuff out? Why? Who, other than the toothless, would buy it?). If you've not hurled already, there's something wrong with your gag reflex. That, or you're a gay man.


Social Bookmarking
Add to: Digg Add to: Del.icio.us Add to: Reddit Add to: StumbleUpon Add to: Furl Add to: Yahoo Add to: Google Add to: Technorati




archives

geek stuff

    mots du jour

Locations of visitors to this page


gecko & fly templates



© 2006 totallygone | Blogger Templates by Gecko & Fly No part of the content or the blog may be reproduced without prior written permission.