Winding down

I'm coming to the last few days of travel and am back in Saigon. Took a flight from Vientiane to Saigon with a short stopover in Phnom Penh - which had surprisingly posh airport terminals with good bookstores (uncensored newspaper selections), shops and cafes.

Bought a CD of classical Cambodian music - which I'd heard one evening on the riverfront near the Royal Palace in Phnom Penh. The music blew me away - it was like a combination of tabla-esque drumming with circular Balinese-like bell instruments (that enclosed the player) and complemented by a xylophone like instrument. The musicians would be given donations by people on the way to make their offerings at a temple.

Enjoyed the Saigon nightlife more this time around (perhaps because I didn't have to get up at 7am to catch a bus or tour). Something about Saigon reminds me of Taipei - my friend Ly and I had a late night snack of seafood noodles on a streetside stand. A lot of people were out, and the city still seemed to be humming with youthful energy. While Hanoi is more picturesque (with its french colonial remnants) perhaps, I've always seemed to connect with Saigonese more easily.

I went to the Ben tham market to a fave restaurant, Nam Giao. Its hard to find, since its tucked away from view inside a courtyard (accessible via an alley). The place serves amazing crab paste noodles and several rice paste dishes. A feast could be had for 2-3 dollars. One the way back, I hired a cyclo to my hotel. I've always had a soft spot for cyclo drivers. After the war, the North Vietnamese, in a show of vindictiveness (and perhaps taking a cue from their Communist Chinese counterparts) forbade many professionals (doctors, lawyers etc) from working in their trained fields - the only work they were allowed to do was to be a cyclo driver. This was likewise the fate of many who were sympathetic to the Americans or served in the South Vietnamese army. The cyclo is a like a rickshaw/bycycle combination - that requires an inordinate amount of skill and stamina to peddle through the chaotic traffic of Saigon. It is a real anachronism in this day of motorbike taxis and air-conditioned metered taxis.

My cyclo driver, who was glad to have my hard won business, noted that in his opinion, the real money was in Hanoi. Saigon only seems more modern because the rich from the north (who got their wealth from party connections and subsequent corruption) poured money in developing hotels, restaurants and shopping centers in Saigon. The man on the street, he noted with dark irony, were better off when the Americans were still here.

Today, I'm catching a flight back to Hanoi to pick up a few things and see old friends before flying to Taiwan friday for some family engagements. The mixed emotions that accompany the end of travels (for now) and uncertainty towards the future is barely containable.

Lao Issara

["Free Lao"]

Today was museum day - and I hopped on a Tuk-Tuk and headed for Kaysone's house, about a few kilometers from Vientiane's city center. Kaysone is remembered as a preeiminent leader of the resistance and subsequent communist movement, which eventually linked up with other regional Indochina anti-colonial movements (such as the Vietminh), and is regarded as the founder of the country. Yet unlike his counterparts in Vietnam (Ho Chi Minh) or China (Mao), the state apparatus seems to have not spent as much resource promoting his cult. His picture today graces some of the currency - the Kip.

No one else seemed to be at the house - as there was no other tuk tuks outside. I greeted the guard at the guardhouse, an affable 30 something man, and explained that I was interested in visiting Mr. Kaysone's house. He asked what nationality I was and when I explained I was American, he asked to see my passport. I didn't bring it with me so I showed him my California driver's license. He smiled, made a phone call, and indicated the place was closed.

He mentioned something about staff sleeping at the moment. My tuk tuk driver came over and chatted with him a bit. When we took off (not before the guard offered to warmly shake my hand), the tuk tuk driver explained that there was currently no electricity in the house and was therefore closed. Apparently, the house is located in a compound the americans had built when occupying the city during the 60's before abandoning it as part of their withdrawal from the region. Kaysone occupied it after Lao forces regained control of the city. The compound was apparently modelled roughly like an american suburb with tract homes and lawns and such. Inside supposedly was Kaysone's affects such as his yoga mat, french language magazines that showed the man behind the revolution.

Next stop, we headed for the Revolutionary Museum - a massive white building with Soviet styled sculptures of proletariat aiming guns and tools against imaginary imperialist forces. The guard here said it was closing for lunch break (even though it was only 11:15). I managed to convince him to let me in for 5 minutes and dashed off into the building. All the signs were in Lao - so it was hard to follow the narrative. The displays were similiar to the Ho Chih Minh Museum in Saigon and depicted the formation of the resistance and subsequently the communist party and the struggles against the French and then the US. The latter part of the exhibit depicted industrial products (Beer Lao, pharmaceuticals, household goods) that were being produced in Lao today.

In the afternoon, I met up with several Irish backpackers with whom I'd travelled with the day before, and we headed off to the National History Museum. The museum showed artifacts from pre-historical times to the present and had an photographic displays on Lao history in the past 100 years. Particulary interesting were photographs of French officials awaiting to leave after their defeat (smoking pipes in knee high socks with cultivated non-chalance as if at a country club), caves where the Pathet Lao leaders had found refuge from american bombing (which were remarkably outfitted with communications gear and electricity), and photos of American GI's and local protests in Vientiane and against American presence. A glass case showed a macabre set of bomblets, mines, and UXO the Americans left behind (which today still kills and maims many in the countryside).

The story of modern Lao is the same story repeated throughout the region: Western powers such as France, Britain, Japan compete to establish colonies. Exploitation and repression of native populations and resources leads to the development of native nationalism. Moderate nationalist forces are unable to effectively oust foreign occupiers (or are co-opted by Americans). More radical forces, utilizing Communist ideology and built with support from the countryside wage a more effective campaign to win the hearts and minds of the population and defeat foreign imperialists. Americans intervene and occupy, fearing the rise of Communism and the domino effect. Americans prop up corrupt and inept regimes to fight against communism, completely out of touch with the sentiment of the local population and ignorant of the fact that regional communism was ultimately used as a nationalistic tool (and had little to do with proletariats and what not). Americans withdrawl, their puppet regimes collapse. Country is unified or declared fully independent.

This pattern started with China, with our support of the corrupt Chiang Kai Shek (and their subsequent flight to Taiwan), in South Vietnam with the corrupt and reviled President Diem (who was ultimately assasinated by his own generals), in Laos and elsewhere. Unfortunately, with no mechanisms such as freedom of press, protection of human rights or multi-party elections to safeguard against absolute power and corruption, these victorious governments quickly decayed into autocratic, repressive regimes with ailing economies. Some would say that the Americans really did ultimately win the war - as evidenced by these countries' eagerness today to adopt free markets and consumer lifestyles.

When I saw Prime Minister Allawi of Iraq speak to the U.S. Congress this week on BBC about the successes of Iraq, I couldn't help but think of an observation the former U.S. Defense Secretary Mcnamara made in his book "In Retrospect" regarding the Vietnam war. He noted that one of the problems of Vietnam was that the US government was constantly getting a rosy picture from the South Vietnamese government, who were under our pay and eager to keep the dough flowing. The reality on the ground was that the Viet Cong was recruiting more people than we could kill and successfully penetrating deep into the South. The timing of Allawi's speech was suspicious as well - perhaps staged to confront an ever growing unease about the Bush Administration's complete bungling of the Iraq reconstruction during a critical election period.

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Tonight, I was invited by the Lao projectionist at the French Language Center to view one of his films made during the 70's for the Pathet Lao resistance. I watched a video of his film as he was busily attending to the massive projectors - showing a repeat of thursday's film, "Peut-Etre". He looked pretty much the same some 30 years ago, with the same intense gaze and mustache. The film, shot in black and white, was all in Lao, which kept me from understanding the dialog but the general gist of the story was not hard to follow.

The film opened with scenes of country life in a village: a family going about their farming, quiet scenes of gathering around their teak house living room to eat a traditional meal of sticky rice, soup and vegetables. Later in the film, a rambunctious group of well uniformed Lao soldiers (who were funded and aligned with the Americans), broke into the village with their machine guns and arrested the men and several of the women. The projectionist played a spy who worked for the Lao collaborators. The film culminated with advancing resistance fighters rescuing a woman from the spy. Interesting were some of the scenes of vintage Vientiane nightlife, where Lao bands played beatle-esque pop songs and young men and women shaking tail. I was later to learn that one of the beautiful leading actresses in the film eventually became his wife.

Today there is no film industry in Lao. When you're recovering from fighting for the last 100 years to free your country, other concerns are more pressing. As the american author Fitzegerald once noted, "culture follows money" (as evidenced by the global rise of post-war America in modern art, music and film). Hopefully, the Lao will rise again and regain their voice.

Cinema Francaise

Last night, I had this incredible craving for chinese dumplings after reading about a place in Vientiane called "Liang Niang" from Brett Dakin's book. I managed to find the restaurant, after talking in mandarin with a few chinese shop owners in town. The restaurant seemed remodeled, no longer the small shack described in the book.

The shrimp and chives dumplings and seaweed salad was excellent - as the owners are immigrants from a town north of Beijing. Most of the customers were other Chinese immigrants in town and all seemed to order up a good amount of food and ate fast. The young man who managed the place (perhaps the son of the owners), was pleasant and I was relieved to be able to clear up some order issues with him in his native tongue.

Afterwards, I made my way to La Centre pour La Language Francaise near the French Embassy. Brett's book had mentioned that they showed movies on thursday nights. I found my way to the screening room after getting directions in my really rusty French (full of inaccurate verb conjugations but the Lao staff was merciful). The movie was "Peut-Etre". I only caught the last half but the story is something like this: a young couple goes to a Y2K party in Paris. They are thinking of having a baby but the man writes off the idea as impossible. For some reason (that I missed due to being late), some kind of time/space drug induced portal in the apartment?, he ends up in the future, in a sand filled version of Paris and meets his son, daughter and their family. They all beg him to make children with his wife. He refuses and the 2 realities collide. The film was really enjoyable and included a performance by the aging Jean Paul Belmundo, hardly recognizable in the film from his Godard days.

Afterwards, I chatted with the projectionist, an soft spoken old Lao man who was once a movie star some 20 years ago, who acted in old Pathet Lao (resistence fighter) propaganda films. While this man was forgotten by Lao society today, the French employed him in their cinema, in a small way perhaps honoring his legacy. The French, for all their mistreatment of people in the region does play a small part in sustaining cultural activities today in their former colonies. When I was living in Hanoi, the French Cultural Center had put on an amazing music festival, in one venue combining various stages where traditional classical Vietnamese music, folk as well as live experimental local electronic acts performed.

Vientiane

I've arrived at the capital and largest city of Laos last night - Vientiane. Its a sleepy place as far as cities go, everything closes down around 11pm and there are perhaps 2 main streets of interest - all part of the charm I suppose. I had an excellent baguette sandwich and iced coffee for breakfast at a place around the corner from my guesthouse - one of the few good things the French left behind (as well as a large number of restaurants). Watched CNN last night - same dispiriting situation in the middle east, Iraq and disingenous politics (esp. from the Carl Rove cabal) in the US.

Watching the latest news about terrorist bombings got me thinking about how culture and religion can often shape a people's response to historical injustices (percieved or otherwise). America has now unwillingly engendered new generations of jihadists eager to wage holy war because of, as the argument goes, its foreign policies in the region (biased support for Isreal, occupation in Iraq etc).

In Laos, the most heavily bombed country in history (by the US for that matter), I've encountered none (if any) bitterness, in the local people I've come across, towards Americans or people from former countries who were their colonial masters. They seem eager to move on, catch up, rise out of poverty and enjoy the fruits of their labor and peace. In Laos, where many men spend a good part of their youth in the sangha (monastic community) as a novice, perhaps Buddhism has endowed its people with a sense of peace that comes from understanding the value of letting go. There is a practical value to forgiveness and certainly, letting go doesn't mean forgetting. This is a common theme in Vietnam as well - which is in the midst of high economic growth.

A few things I've learned from chatting up locals recently:

-only the well-to-do can today afford to go to university, where teachers often demand bribes for grades and entrance. For many, service as a monk is often the only structured, free education they'll recieve.
-few opportunities exist for most young people. Most cannot go to school, or end up becoming disillusioned by the system and end up going back to work on the family farm or doing odd jobs.
-economic opportunity is heavily skewed towards people with government connections. One man in Vang Vieng pointed out that all the guesthouses and businesses there and elsewhere were started by members of government or people who have family/social connections with people in power.
-the police is corrupt and uneducated. They often stop people on motorbikes for reason, to demand bribes and browbeat to throw their power around. This has been my personal experience in Vietnam as well.
-it is widely held perception that a large percentage of foreign development aid is siphoned into pockets of local officials.
-many in the tourism business seem to share a common wariness for Isreali tourists (seems common in other countries I've travelled as well) - who strike them as rude and arrogant relative to all the others. One local man told a story of how one Isreali blurted out that he can act however he wanted because they had the most powerful country behind them (USA). [my tax money at work!]
-Thailand and Laos share many cultural and linguistic traits. In fact, Thai pop and TV are readily consumed by Laos. However, the Thais often look down on their Laotion neighbors. One man who went to find work across the border said that one lady remarked: "How can you speak english so well? You are from Laos!".
-People don't have a good sense of what is really going on in their own country (as there is no free press). My guidebook, printed less than a year ago, cited the exchange rate as 8000kip~1USD. Today the exchange rate is about 10800 to 1. Thats quite a change in a short period of time.

One man I encountered explained things from a local perspective. While things may be terribly wrong, and the political system was broken and authoritarian and there wasn't much they could do to change things (at the risk of being imprisoned), he sought to find contentment within, in the simple things like family, friendship, nature and to try to simply be happy.

One expat who lived in the region compared Thailand to Laos in this way, "In Thailand most simply pay lip service to Buddhism while some seem to still live it here".

Vang Vieng

Took the 7 hour bus along winding misty mountain roads to Vang Vieng, a town halfway between Luang Prabang and Vientienne. The town is small, lots of backpackers, and surrounded by looming karst mountains, a bit like Halong Bay, Vietnam but without the bay. Once you get out of the Khaosan Rd-esque ghetto of "happy" shakes and pizza and their stoned victims, you're in the midst of some of the most beautiful, unspoilt countryside.

Yesterday, I went kyaking, caving and treking with a bunch of brazilians, a brit and a spaniard. The highlight was swimming and climbing through "Sleeping Cave", named so because over 200 people took refuge in the cave from bombing during the fighting against the french and then the americans. We also stopped by an organic farm to try a round of mullberry shakes and took turns jumping into the river from a platform along a stop. I've reclaimed my inner country boy for today.

After being kept up half the night night by a bunch of loud Isrealis outside my $4/night room in town, I checked into a bungalow on the riverbank with an awesome view of the mountains - a really plush place with hardly anyone around except an old Lao man who was clacking away on his typewriter on his balcony. I learned later that he was a famous Lao writer who was notable not only for his work but also for never finishing university. His motto was that his wife was his university.

Today, I found a copy of Paul Koelho's "The Alchemist" in a tatty used bookstore in town where the staff did not speak english. Never read anything by him but noticed his books wherever there were backpackers. I spend the afternoon reading along the river, listening to the Rachels' "Music for Egon Schiel" on my mp3 player before the rains came.

Luang Prabang

A few days have seem to flown by in this town.

I spend the first lounging around L'Etranger bookshop, the only english bookstore in town, reading from their lending library. I also caught a film they were showing in the evening, Central Station, a brazilian film that was remarkably poignant and rich in its dramatic twists and turns. One of the side effects of extended travel is that some days, you just want to do nothing.

Tuesday, thousands of Lao from all the surrounding regions gathered for the annual boat racing festival. The town was filled with vendors selling Lao snacks, cloths, prize booths and apparently this is one of the biggest festivals for many in the area. Teams 30 or so men in colorful caps and T-shirts rowed long boats and competed. The races lasted all afternoon and it was hard to get a good view on the river bank but we managed to find a restaurant overlooking the starting line. Around sunset, the winning team paraded down the main street with their trophies in hand and singing jubilant songs.

Yesterday, I took a kyaking trip about 2 hours north of Luang Prabang. One of Lao's riches assets is its unspoilt natural beauty. We rowed about 23 km, for 4 hours down the river and braved some class 2-3 rapids. I got tossed at one point but it was refreshing to take a dip in the river and the skilled Lao guides kept us out of trouble. Along each side were spectacular misty mountains, and pristine lush forests dotted by the occasional village or fishing canoe.

It rained during lunch so we took shelter under a hut in a small village. The children in the village kept us company while we ate and 2 dogs fought over scraps that our guide toss out. Everywhere we went, small children would wave and smile. Children in Lao, while poor, seemed happier to their counterparts in Cambodia or Vietnam. In Cambodia, one is often hounded by poor children begging or selling trinkets - the poverty seems desperate. In Laos they were seen happily playing amongst themselves, pausing to wave at the occasional passing tourist, without agenda.

Of the 4 countries I've visited in the region, the Laotian that I've encountered have been the most down to earth, friendly and guileless. This is a testament to the character of its people as recent Lao history has been marred by colonialism, warfare and heavy handed power politics by its neighbors to the east and west.

Laos is also the most heavily bombed country in human history. The U.S. dropped 2 times as many bombs on Laos as in all of the Korean War. During the U.S.-Vietnam war, the U.S. conducted a covert, illegal operation to root out Viet Cong that were infiltrating northern Laos in an effort to seek sanctuary and establish alternate supply routes. Rural Laotians were caught in the cross fire and as a result, many continue to be maimed by mines and UXO (unexploded ordinances) in the countryside today. According to active deminng agencies, it will take another 100 years to clear the country at the present rate.

Today, Laos is still officially communist. Its original party leadership came out of radicalized movements for independence and freedom from foreign domination - a common pattern in the region. However, unlike Cambodia, its leaders were more pragmatic and quickly abandoned stifling, repressive practices such as collective farming and realized that a relaxed political posture was key to gaining foreign developmental aid. Corruption exists and today, the far north is a flashpoint for anti-government insurgency by the tribal Hmong minority. Just today in the Bangkok Post, there was an artical about a video smuggled out of the country that allegedly shows several dead teenagers that were victims of a government raid on a Hmong village.

On the way back to town from kyaking, we saw a group of Hmong men in their dark blue traditional vests. They toted long rifles. They smiled cheerfully and seemed to gesture to us that there was nothing to worry about. Our Lao guide noted that they were merely on a hunting mission.

A good account of contemporary Laos is Brett Dakin's "Another Quiet American" (not to be confused with Graham Greene's work of fiction). The author recounts his experience of graduating from Princeton and then working (as a volunteer consultant) in the Touris, Ministry in Vientienne. The cast of characters from all walks of life he illustrates paintd a rich picture of the dynamics and issues of contemporary Lao.

Young Lao

Arrived in Luang Prabang, Laos around dusk on a noisy propeller plane from Chiang Mai. From the plane, Lao seemed a verdant, sparsely populated land with mountains, the occassional village and the ever present Mekong river that winds through the landscape like a brown serpent.

Going into town, I saw a golden temple with a shining stupa, illuminated on a hilltop, visible from all parts of the town in the evening. I could hear once again the sounds of insects chirping and away from the main streets, smell country air.

After checking in to my guesthouse not far from the center, I grabbed a simple lao vegetarian dinner (tofu, morning glory, and roasted sea moss) on the main night market strip near the Royal Museum and walked around the riverfront.

It was too dark to tour the sites, so I eventually wandered over to The Hive, a place my guidebook made out to be a rather interesting, albeit out of place lounge with electronic music. The Hive was devoid of customers but I chatted with the Lao staff - who were down to earth and friendly. The one who seemed to be in charge was from the rural north and had spent 7 years as a monk, studying Sanskrit and Pali (contemporary language of Buddha's time in northern India). He nodded in recognition with the Pali/Vipassana terms I'd mentioned, such as Annichea (the law of impermanence, whereby all phenomena arise and pass away, including all pleasure and pain) and Anapana (a meditation technique for concentrating the mind using observation of the breath). I'd come to be familiar with them from a Vipassana course I'd taken a few years ago in the US.

For many rural Lao of simple means, the Sangha, or the monastic community, was a place where free education was available (and often where english lessons were taught). Doing time as a monk significantly added to the respect one gained in his village and was a way to gain merit (positive karma) for the monk and his family. Infact everyone who worked at the Hive had at one time or another donned the saffron robes. Their english was amazingly good.

He acknowledged that he's felt somewhat lost, working in a French-Canadian owned bar, surrounded by alcohol, high concept decor, and the latest eccentric music from the West. He missed the life of monk where once studied ancient discourses, meditated, woke at 4am, and collected alms at 6am, chanted sutras at 6 in the evening. The newest member of the staff was going to university during the day and working during the evenings - he made 8,000 kip or about 80 cents a night working there.

They were leaving early as there were no customers and invited me along to go to a local disco. We took a detour on their motorbikes to avoid a police checkpoint through quiet, rustic streets (they didn't have the proper papers for their bikes) and found our way to a large white tacky building ringed with Chrismas lights. Inside were Lao youth dancing away to a frenetic techno music imported from Thailand. The style altered every few songs or so and soon, the crowd began to dance the slow, wrist turning style of traditional Lao dancing. Not long after, a live band performed some Lao ballads and the entire dance floor lined up to perform a synchronized group dance that reminded me of a very slow version of the funky chicken (except done with a hundred or so people at once). Things took a jarring turn when the DJ changed the genre once again and played a song by Dr. Dre - West coast gangsta could not be more of out of place here in the midst of gentle Lao youth (where the couples are hesitant to show affection in public) - but they really got into the heavy bass, beats and plucky, dingy melody that seems to afflict commercial hip hop these days.

By law, all commercial establishments close at midnight and before soon, we left. I was dropped off at my guesthouse and dozed off to the effects of Beer Lao.

Travelling American

Its been raining hard the last few nights - so I'm chilling out and catching up on email tonight. Today we learned to work on the back, neck and head in massage class. When I finished my routine, my practice partner, a tall, english girl from Glastonbury had to be roused from a light slumber.

I ran into 2 young Mormon americans on the main road to the temples tonight. They were from Utah and wore the customary white shirts and name tags. It's always nice running into americans - even if they are trying to proseletize. At first they called out to me in Thai, then they remarked how good my english was before they realized I was american. They seemed homesick and were having a tough time finding converts in a country where Buddhism has had over a thousand years of deep influence in the culture and traditions.

On the topic of Americans, people in the region (and most of the world for that matter) often have a hard time differentiating between national identity and ethnic background. A typical conversation goes like this:

local: "Where are you from?"
me: "America."
local: "But you look like [substitute local asian country], same same. Not like American."
me: "No I am American. My family is from Taiwan."

It usually isn't until I mention Taiwan that the incredulous look starts to fade - in their minds, that is my national identity. When I ask what an American looks like, the answer invariably refers to a caucasion. I guess years of exposure to american movies/media with paltry asian american representation has reinforced the concept. In some ways, my experience perhaps parallels asian americans living in parts of middle america, where asians, even if their families have been there for generations, are regarded as perpetual foreigners. Sad since if there is a place where a nation is founded upon an idea, and not a race - its America - the land of refugees.

Americans on the backpacking trail are rare. Even rarer still are solo asian american backpackers. We had an interesting conversation during lunch - the others at my table (who come from europe, india, middle east) also remarked how few americans they encounter travelling. Before tonight, I could count on 1 hand the number of americans I've encountered travelling in the region in the past few months. Is it because Europeans get 4-6 weeks of legally mandated vacation time per year (vs 2 weeks for us)? You can travel reasonable comfortably for $10-15 a day (incl. room/board) in most of the region (so cost should not be an excuse). All the american travellers I've encountered are working, middle class or recent graduates.

Perhaps if americans travelled more, we would think twice about bombing other countries (who don't directly threaten us) and perhaps modify our concept of collateral damage.

Massage School

Today I learned just how much work it takes to be a traditional Thai masseur. Definately much easier to take than to give. Also, dealing with all sorts of personalities must be a real challenge for a professional. Intention is so important as it shapes the kind of energy you exude and consequently the quality of the experience the person recieving the massage experiences. Thai massage goes back over a thousand years to Indian, Chinese and indigenous traditional medicine - interesting concepts about energy lines and wind channels.

The other day, I finally made to an authentic Muay Thai boxing program at the Chiang Mai Boxing Stadium. There were 7 bouts in all for several weight categories. I tried to sneak in for 100 baht, posing as a local Thai (the Thai local in front of me paid 100) before I was called back in english and asked to pay the tourist fee (400). The traditions, such as the music and the ceremonial dance and the wais (bows) to your opponent, audience and judges keep what is otherwise a primal, viscerally violent sport within civilized bounds. The sound of flesh being pounded by shins, knees, gloved fists and the way each fighter gathers momentum towards the latter rounds was a revelation. The use of kicks, knees, elbows to the head and throws make Thai boxing more damaging than regular boxing. I kept wondering what Hemmingway would of thought of all this - if he would have found greater beauty in Thai boxing.

The final match was the heavy weight class and it was between a Thai and a Finnish boxer (who by his adornments, was the defending champion). There was a roudy bunch of white men and their Thai girlfriends who formed several rows of support behind the Fin's corner. In the Thai boxer's corner, there was his young wife and his daughter and 2 assistants, who couldn't have been more than 20, who watered him down between rounds. The audience was mixed of locals, expats and tourists - the whole time I couldn't figure out who the locals were cheering for and I wondered if their support for one of their own was muted by the bets they had placed against him.

The Thai landed a series of solid punches against the Fin in the first 2 rounds. The Fin's face began to swell, and you could tell just a couple more would have knocked him out. There was something about the Thai that made me think he was some working regular guy who decided to try his luck or reclaim some glory - perhaps he had been a champion in his earlier years. There was something sad about the fact that there was just his wife and daughter who quietly watched. A few rounds went by, the Fin was still standing strong, and perhaps had succeed in softening up the Thai with his kicking. There were a few near knock downs - each time the Thai stood his ground and the referee counted to 9 before they started again. By the last round, though the Thai succeeded in knocking down the Fin once, he look like he was on his last legs. In between each round, he looked like near collapse - his coach held up a hand each time and he breathed something from it (mentol or some kind of smelling salt).

The bell sounded, the ref collected the score cards and the Fin won the bout on technical grounds. The euro corner erupted and stood up in roudy applause. The Thai barely made it to the corner. On my way out of the stadium, I saw him sitting on the edge of the ring, looking exhausted and breathing heavily. His wife and daughter waited for him below.

Chiang Mai

Took an overnight train from Bangkok to Chiang Mai 2 days ago - and had interesting conversations with an austrian couple next bunk over. They were surprise by my mention of Jorge Haider.

Chiang Mai is a more relaxed city, ringed by mountains. Lots of lush forest surround the region. There are traditional Thai massage salons everywhere where you can get a 1 hour massage for only $2.50. There are more bookstores, coffee shops and night markets as well. Nonetheless, it is the 2nd largest city in Thailand. There is traffic, exhaust fumes and but less of the hustle and bustle of Bangkok.

Our first day, we had some northern curry and rice for lunch and then toured temples inside the old city moats. Then hitched a red taxi up to Suthep temple up the mountain. The drive up made me car sick but the views and sights at the top were worth it - as was the cool mountain air. One of the girls in our group almost fell out of the back due the steep and curvy climb.

I took a cooking class yesterday - we made 6 Thai dishes and were completely stuffed and comatose by the end of the day. Tomorrow, I will start a course on traditional Thai massage. It'll be a nice change to stay put for a while and learn a few things.

Staying at a cheap hotel near the moat (with a pool)!