Holiday on Koh Phangan

Wisdom

I'm killing time while Angela's having her wisdom teeth yanked in the back room of a Chinese shophouse. In the glass window of the storefront, there's a big ol' electric molar standing on its four roots. It's scotch taped to a plastic end table. Beside the toof, chillin' in its purple glow, there's a dirty bottle of Singer's wood glue and a wrinkly cactus. Minor Surgery In Southeast Asia: sweet bargain or bad idea?

Thaksin

Okay, so here's the thing: Political stability seems to be deteriorating fairly quickly in Thailand, particularly in Bangkok. Feeling a bit underqualified and overwhelmed by the task, I've avoided writing about the situation for nearly a month. Also, I didn't wanna give stateside worry worts (moms) any food for their hungry ulcers. But, since things here have been getting increasing attention from Western media, I guess some blogspot commentary is finally due.

So, the problems revolve around Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra. This dude and his Thai Rak Thai (Thai Love Thai...huh?) Party were elected to a second term of power in February 2005 after a landslide poll victory. For those unfamiliar with Thaksin, he's not unlike Italy's Silvio Burlesconi - a wealthy businessman-cum-politician with his paws in all corners of the country's economy. He rules the country as a CEO would a corporation.

In recent months, Thaksin has fallen under mounting criticism. The most common allegations include election misconduct, tax evasion, shady business deals, and his hardliner stance on the Muslim unrest in Thailand's southern province. Most of the criticism seems to come from Bangkok's middle and upper classes, taking the form of massive rallies, sit-ins, and marches. On three occasions, chanting crowds and booming megaphones have interrupted my classes. My students and I pause by the classroom window to watch a sea of protestors marching through the street below.

Thus far, the protests have been peaceful but the situation has become increasingly tense. Thaksin's supporters, mostly the poor and rural classes who elected the Prime Minister under his promises of subsidized aid, have gained mobility, in effect giving the instability a scary class-conflict component.

Initially refusing to step down but somewhat yielding to the pressure, Thaksin called for snap elections on April 2. Accusing Thai Rak Thai officials of corruption, all of the opposition parties boycotted the election. Voters could cast a ballot in favor of Thaksin or choose a "no vote" option. Thaksin won the elections with far more votes than were anticipated by his critics. Whether or not this is due to shady vote-counting remains to be seen. In any case, the election resolved very little for the opposition movement. On Tuesday, Thaksin bowed to pressure and agreed to step down as Prime Minister but vowed to continue serving in Parliament. Determined to completely uproot Thaksin from Thai politics, the protestors have continued protesting.

From my perspective as a busy teacher who cannot speak or read Thai, it's difficult to gauge all the nuan ces of what's happening. Cynics seem to think both sides are corrupt and primarily concerned with their own interests. Many observers also speculate that much (too much?) of the discontent relates to the Thaksin family's recent sale of its shares of Shin Corp, Thailand's largest telecommunications company, to Singaporean investors. According to this analysis, Bangkok's business elite were angered by the passing of control of a national asset into the hands of foreigners. It is also believed that the Thaksin family evaded taxes on the sale. Thaksin's supporters argue that his policies have helped the country's poor. The opposition has responded to this argument by producing photos of Thai Rak Thai officials buying provincial votes and slipping bribes.

Many people hope that the King of Thailand, long revered as a keeper of the peace, will intervene and diffuse the situation. So far, however, he has stayed behind closed doors - rumored to be sick and frail in his old age. In any event, the turmoil seems unlikely to fizzle away, at least without some sort of climax.

As for how this all relates to me and Angela, I doubt our safety will be compromised. If there is violence (as there was during similar Thai protest movements in the last 30 years), we'll simply avoid it. I was, however, disappointed to learn that it's illegal for me to buy an after-work-Singha on election day. I guess the government doesn't want alcohol to interfere with voter turnout...or voter behavior.

Holiday in Cambodia

Stefan flew into Bangkok and twelve hours later he, Angela, and I woke up to catch a 7am flight to Phnom Pehn.

Phnom Pehn is a dusty, potholed city with a creepy history of Khmer Rouge scariness. In 1975, Pol Pot purged the city, driving all its residents into prisons or hard labor projects in the countryside. Except for a few prisons and administrative buildings, the capital was a vacant ghost town for four years until the Vietnamese ousted Pol Pot from power.

These days, those residents who survived the Khmer Rouge have returned but the city still feels kinda weird and ghostly. Blackouts are common, many streets are rutted and unpaved, and, according to my guidebook, guns and drugs make for a fair bit of nighttime shadiness.

Still, many parts of the city are really interesting and fun to explore. Near the river front, rows of crumbly cement shophouses curve around corners, making shady canyons in the dingy sidestreets. Nearby, there's a massive dome-roofed market around which beggars beg, men scowl and shout, and old ladies sell slimy pink meats in clouds of insects. In the quiet alleys, French colonial mansions lurk behind overgrown gardens, operating as restaurant-barbershop-squat-schools or some other hybrid semi-business. Angela, Stefan, and I sat down at one such spot hoping to score some coffee but only received deadpan stares, some bottled water, and confused brains: "What the hell is this place?"

Phnom Pehn's streets are packed with motorbikes. The stream of puttering engines is so thick that pedestrians can only cross in baby steps. Exercising highly questionable and totally mother-unsettling judgement, we decided to rent some motorbikes of our own. Bike messengering in Philly did very little to prepare me for Cambodian road logic. Basically, we played high stakes bumper cars all day while amused Cambodians stared at the pale-faced fools who'd stupidly chosen to gamble their lives in P.P.'s Road Rivers of Chaos. Needless to say, driving a motorbike in Cambodia is fun as hell. We cruised outside the city and passed miles of road-side markets and waving school kids. Fortunately, none of us got hurt. Unfortunately, the sun turned me into a crispy blistered lobster. Also, there's a small pile of Cambodian road silt sitting in each of my lungs. In retrospect, a handkerchief respirator would have been a good idea.

Grotty

I live in a large, cement apartment block on a quiet back alley. My boss, who recommended the pad, described the building's outward appearance as "grotty." This is accurate. From the street, the monster looks like something you might see in Belgrade or some formerly communist city with a scary history. Its white paint is stained with grime and, in many places, has completely chipped away in large chunks, revealing the natural sidewalk-cement color hiding behind the halfass mask. In some places, the facade itself is getting a bit crumbly too. At one corner, an exposed drain pipe leaks a waterfall of slime into a strange-smelling street-side puddle. At a nearby overhang, a cracked piling reveals what appears to be the building's inards (pipes and wires and whatnot) held in place by silver electric tape. Jesus, was this mammoth cinder block assembled with duct tape?

Despite its "grotty" exterior and the somewhat disconcerting fact that I could probably knock the fucker over with a small sports coupe, the 10-story cement lego still manages to look really cool. While apartment hunting, the building was the only spot I scoped which looked like home.

Unlike a few intrusively sparkly (garrish?) condo towers nearby, the my apartment building sits well amidst its equally grotty brothers and sisters, seeming at ease in the mazelike network of alleys and noodleshops of the surrounding Aree Market. While the not-so-distant condo towers loom behind their locked gates like outsiders with suspicious intentions, my building looks more like the neighborhood's dignified and righteous civic leader. Its weathered exterior and central neighborhood location stand as testament to its trustworthiness; this building's here to serve the human community. Plus, its plant-covered balconies spill tropical foliage over their railings, giving the appearance that the grot-block houses a magical ecosystem.

Again

Back by popular demand:

Mike Ball
Apartment 3/217
Aree Condo
3 Soi Aree 2 Phaholyothin Road
Phayathai, Bangkok 10400
Thailand

Vang Vieng, Laos

Historically, adventure-seeking roughians traveled the earth along trade routes. They congregated in remote outposts to buy and sell, curse and drink, and chat up the local ladies. These days, the global economy's running shit a bit differently. Now, the remote outposts are holiday destinations for college students and quasi-bohemians with big backpacks. However, the buying, selling, cursing, drinking, and lady shmoozing continue.

Angela and I left Vientiane on a bus bound for the Laos countryside. We bumped along dusty dirt roads and swerved around dusty kids pedalling oversized bicycles. We passed rickety bamboo house-huts half buried in the jungle canopy. Villagers in conical hats tended to roadside rice paddies and I felt about as far from home as I've ever felt. After a few hours, the mountains grew into vertical stone skyscrapers and the road turned into a slithering snake. We twisted about on the snake-road for a while before arriving at the riverside village of Vang Vieng. The village has zero traffic lights (after all, there's only 27 in Lao's capitol city), only a couple of semi-paved roads, and intermittant electricity. Many of the village's buildings are fashioned form a haphazard mix of bamboo, sticks, and jagged planks of weathered wood. Here, halfway around the world from home and deep inside one of the world's poorest, most underdeveloped countries, westerners drink Beer Laos and wander muddy streets in sport sandals.

Holidays Abroad

Significant holidays I've spent abroad:
4th July 2000, Dubrovnik, Croatia
4th July 2002, Ensenada, Mexico
birthday number 22, some beach, Mexico
4th July 2005, Bangkok, Thailand
birthday number 25, Chiang Mai, Thailand
Thanksgiving 2005, Bangkok, Thailand
Christmas 2005, Bangkok, Thailand
New Year's 2006, Vang Vieng, Laos

We celebrated the New Year at an open air bamboo bar overlooking the Song River. Me, Angela, and a couple dozen other Westerners, all sipping Beer Lao and drinking whiskey from small yellow beach pales. I stood beside a palm tree and watched as, off in the distance, away from the center of the party, a middle aged Laotian funneled cheap liquors into name brand bottles.

According to Lao national law, all bars and restaurants must close by midnight. Somehow, probably through some behind the scenes string-pulling and bribe slipping, Vang Vieng's riverside establishments - the ones exclusively patroned by backpacking party animals - were exempt from the curfew. Maybe the authorities recognize the importance in keeping the dollar spenders happy in a dusty rural village.

Mutmee Guesthouse, Nong Khai

By far one of the nicest, most interesting places we've stayed in Thailand. A community of Thai and foreign yoga enthusiasts, cooks, musicians, and artists has occupied a cluster of two-story teak buildings and thatched huts overlooking the Mekong River. The whole utopian village is built around a scenic garden furnished with teak tables, chairs, and hammocks. Guests feel more like lucky members of a visionary collective than third world resort patrons.

Last night, while brushing my teeth, I heard mysterious music coming from a mysterious source. I opened the shuttered windows of our second floor room to look down upon a single guitar-picking man singing alone in a tiny garden. He sat beneath a bare lightbulb hung in a tree, bearded and dressed in intricately patterned fisherman pants, looking like some kinda neo-hippie messiah. Where the hell am I?

Doggies

It's the cool season in Southeast Asia and temperature averages have plumitted to blistering room temperature conditions. All the mangy Bangkok streeg dogs are wearing sweaters and old T-shirts, no joke. It's a weird scene, almost like some art school prankster is secretly distributing the contents of his little sister's closet each night. In the morning, all the dogs are sporting her threads. I mean, how else would a flea-ridden quadraped get his paws on a Winnie the Pooh skirt?

Actually, I'm pretty sure the anthropomorphic winter tradition stems from a Buddhist concern for all life, including that of those with fur and scabies. But still, it's a bit dizzying to walk through an ever-growing circus of stylish muts each morning on my way to the train.

Holiday

Today was the first day of our winter holiday. We woke up before dawn to catch and overcrowded bus to Nong Khai, the Thai border town across the Mekong River from Laos. Thirteen hours on the stuffy, slow-moving vehicle gave me a numb ass but also plenty of time to defragment my mental harddrive, allowing backed up thoughts to process and finally settle in my brains's filing cabinets. After four months of screaming students, vegetating on a bus all day ain't half bad, even if I do have to share my seat with a flatulating weirdo who stares at me for half the journey.

Neo-colonialists

"My husband and I own a garment factory in Laos. Yes, the government there just loves us because we give all those poor people jobs."

-lipsticked woman standing in front of me in line at the American Embassy in Bangkok.

Bangkok Construction

Seriously, when will this city be complete? All over Bangkok, on every thoroughfare and back street, towers are being raised by fraggle-like teams of flip flopped migrant workers. Dressed in denim, matching T-shirts, and colorful helmets, these guys spend their waking hours climbing around in tangles of rebar and scaffolding. The racket of their jackhammers and bulldozers is inescapeable. The fraggles begin their work early each morning soon after sunrise. By noon, a thick cloud of orange dust has risen around them. The fraggles shuffle around in this hot dust cloud all day, hammering into the night. Finally, long after the sun has set, they quit their mess-making (construction) to collapse in hastily built shacks lining the construction site's periphery. These dudes are tough.