Before returning to Chiang Mai to finish my work for Bebee, I decided to take a quick holiday in southern Thailand, namely Krabi and Koh Lanta. Krabi is a smaller, fairly authentic Thai city that largely serves as a gateway for tourists to some of the southern islands. Due to the timing of my flights and the ferry schedule, I had to stay a night on the mainland before heading out to the island of Koh Lanta.
Krabi was entirely pleasant, though it's not much of a tourist destination by itself since it doesn't have a beach. I walked around a bit in the evening after my flight landed and had a pretty typical dinner-bars-massage night. The food stalls by the water were a pretty good deal; for the same cost as a Subway sandwich and a bottle of water in the airport (my only real lunch option earlier that day in a sea of Thai-less fast food), I treated myself to huge portions of rice and veggies and about five beers.
<sidebar>
Without realizing it (mainly because my book-reading rate had dropped off in recent months), I had fallen into a pattern of reading books that in some way mirrored my travel life. I read Asimov's Nightfall - a short story (and later, book) whose plot revolves around the absence of sunlight - over the course of many starry nights on my balcony in Bali. I read The Lunatic Express - a travel writer's account of intentionally taking the world's most dangerous conveyances - during the time I was taking planes, ferries, motorbikes, and even a powered parachute in a part of the world not known for its safety record. And on my last full day in Cambodia, I was approached by a street person while I was eating lunch outside. He had only stubs for arms - clearly the victim of a landmine - and was selling illegal photocopies of books so he could make some money for himself. After I told him I was backpacking and didn't have room for paper books, he grabbed one with his stubs, set it on the table next to me, and said "Well this one is pretty small." After having a good laugh, I bought the book (First They Killed My Father, one of the most well-known pieces about the Cambodian genocide) and finished it within 24 hours, unable to put it down.
In keeping with this tradition, I read The Beach while traveling to Krabi and the islands. Yeah yeah, I know it's incredibly cliche, you don't have to tell me. I had seen the movie many years ago but was really impressed with how good the book was (and how dark it was in places). Traveling internationally for a little while, especially in Thailand, gave me a new appreciation for the story and I can definitely say that it's the best work of fiction I've read in a long time. After I finished, I downloaded the movie and tried to watch it, but I had to shut it off after about 30 minutes because it was such an awful, Hollywood-esque interpretation. Do yourself a favor and read the book the next time you want a really great literary escape.
</sidebar>
With the fantastical story and setting of The Beach in mind, I very much enjoyed my voyage to and short holiday on Koh Lanta. In some ways, it was the best Thai island I've been to, though I've still yet to find that perfect postcard-worthy beach. That said, the sand was nice (though a bit rocky in places), the water was blue and warm, and the evenings on the sunset side of the island were perfect. A lot of the beach bars light bonfires on the beach every night, attracting tourists (and farang locals) who lazily make their way to hammocks and lounge chairs and enjoy some drinks or some greenery (if you know what I mean), both of which are available for purchase from the bar. As the sun sets, the air stays warm and the most pressing thoughts of the evening are about stargazing or dinner.
Before long though, I had to snap out of my island reverie and make my way back north to Chiang Mai to finish my work. As I landed at the airport and got a ride from a friend into town, I was greeted by a smoky haze covering the city and a fireball sun in the sky, consequences of the fires set by farmers as they burn their fields every March. Luckily I missed the worst of it and after a few rainstorms, the air felt clean(er).
Once I settled back into my same guesthouse and reconnected with my friends in town, I was back to finishing up all my work for Bebee. With only a day to spare before my passport stamp expired, I delivered two PDF cookbooks, a simple online store, and various improvements to the website, TripAdvisor page, and Facebook page. Overall I feel really good about all my IT work, mainly because I could help my friend in a significant way, but also because it helped me stay sharp mentally and learn some new skills that I feel proud enough to put on my resume.
Somewhere in the middle of my work schedule, my friend Roseanne, who I met though Friends For Asia, came back to Chiang Mai after some travel so she could spend a week at a Burmese Buddhist temple. During her time there, she invited me to come to the temple to witness a shinbyu, a traditional ceremony celebrating the boys that are about to start their Buddhist education. The boys - always under the age of 20, but often much younger - wear traditional outfits and makeup (making them look more like little girls) and ride on the shoulders of Burmese men who make music and dance and thrash around. One of the men convinced me to try some kwun-ya, a popular chewing habit among Burmese (both men and women) consisting mainly of betel leaf, areca nut, and tobacco. I wasn't too crazy about it though. I like my teeth white!
A major reason I went back to Chiang Mai was for Songkran (Thai New Years). There are parades and traditional outfits and music and visits to the temples to pray for good luck in the coming year, but the main reason to celebrate Songkran is for the massive water fight that rages over four days all over the country. Throwing water on others symbolizes washing away all the bad away in preparation for the new year. In more practical terms, it's one of the most fun things I've ever done in my life. For four days, farang and Thais alike roam the streets, either on foot or in the backs of pickup trucks, armed with massive water guns, backpacks of water, or even just buckets (my personal favorite). It's also very common to load huge ice blocks into 55-gallon drums of water, creating a supply of freezing ammunition. When you see a bucket of water flying at your face, you hope that it's warm, but deep down inside, you know you're about to get hit with ice water. On the plus side, you don't notice the 90+ degree temperature outside!
I met up with different groups of friends on the different days; when I wasn't with them, I was happy to wander down to the moat, join up with some Thais, and throw water on whoever was driving by. It's funny that Songkran is a purification ceremony and yet many people in Chiang Mai use water from the moat, which is pretty filthy. I had heard stories of people getting eye infections; sure enough, a day or two after Songkran was over, I developed an ear infection. Apparently the cure (in adults) is to just let it heal itself, which it finally did after several semi-painful days. Still totally worth it.
Clearly I didn't bring my camera out for any of these festivities, as I've noticed that electronics work their best when they're not sopping wet. But this montage sums up the holiday pretty well:
With Songkran over and my work for Bebee finished, I sadly packed up my things, said goodbye to my friends, and boarded a flight for Hong Kong. I was re-entering the first world; this would be the beginning of the end of my travels, but I had learned a few days before that I wouldn't be finishing this trip alone...
Full photo album: Shinbyu
Krabi was entirely pleasant, though it's not much of a tourist destination by itself since it doesn't have a beach. I walked around a bit in the evening after my flight landed and had a pretty typical dinner-bars-massage night. The food stalls by the water were a pretty good deal; for the same cost as a Subway sandwich and a bottle of water in the airport (my only real lunch option earlier that day in a sea of Thai-less fast food), I treated myself to huge portions of rice and veggies and about five beers.
<sidebar>
Without realizing it (mainly because my book-reading rate had dropped off in recent months), I had fallen into a pattern of reading books that in some way mirrored my travel life. I read Asimov's Nightfall - a short story (and later, book) whose plot revolves around the absence of sunlight - over the course of many starry nights on my balcony in Bali. I read The Lunatic Express - a travel writer's account of intentionally taking the world's most dangerous conveyances - during the time I was taking planes, ferries, motorbikes, and even a powered parachute in a part of the world not known for its safety record. And on my last full day in Cambodia, I was approached by a street person while I was eating lunch outside. He had only stubs for arms - clearly the victim of a landmine - and was selling illegal photocopies of books so he could make some money for himself. After I told him I was backpacking and didn't have room for paper books, he grabbed one with his stubs, set it on the table next to me, and said "Well this one is pretty small." After having a good laugh, I bought the book (First They Killed My Father, one of the most well-known pieces about the Cambodian genocide) and finished it within 24 hours, unable to put it down.
In keeping with this tradition, I read The Beach while traveling to Krabi and the islands. Yeah yeah, I know it's incredibly cliche, you don't have to tell me. I had seen the movie many years ago but was really impressed with how good the book was (and how dark it was in places). Traveling internationally for a little while, especially in Thailand, gave me a new appreciation for the story and I can definitely say that it's the best work of fiction I've read in a long time. After I finished, I downloaded the movie and tried to watch it, but I had to shut it off after about 30 minutes because it was such an awful, Hollywood-esque interpretation. Do yourself a favor and read the book the next time you want a really great literary escape.
</sidebar>
With the fantastical story and setting of The Beach in mind, I very much enjoyed my voyage to and short holiday on Koh Lanta. In some ways, it was the best Thai island I've been to, though I've still yet to find that perfect postcard-worthy beach. That said, the sand was nice (though a bit rocky in places), the water was blue and warm, and the evenings on the sunset side of the island were perfect. A lot of the beach bars light bonfires on the beach every night, attracting tourists (and farang locals) who lazily make their way to hammocks and lounge chairs and enjoy some drinks or some greenery (if you know what I mean), both of which are available for purchase from the bar. As the sun sets, the air stays warm and the most pressing thoughts of the evening are about stargazing or dinner.
Before long though, I had to snap out of my island reverie and make my way back north to Chiang Mai to finish my work. As I landed at the airport and got a ride from a friend into town, I was greeted by a smoky haze covering the city and a fireball sun in the sky, consequences of the fires set by farmers as they burn their fields every March. Luckily I missed the worst of it and after a few rainstorms, the air felt clean(er).
Once I settled back into my same guesthouse and reconnected with my friends in town, I was back to finishing up all my work for Bebee. With only a day to spare before my passport stamp expired, I delivered two PDF cookbooks, a simple online store, and various improvements to the website, TripAdvisor page, and Facebook page. Overall I feel really good about all my IT work, mainly because I could help my friend in a significant way, but also because it helped me stay sharp mentally and learn some new skills that I feel proud enough to put on my resume.
Somewhere in the middle of my work schedule, my friend Roseanne, who I met though Friends For Asia, came back to Chiang Mai after some travel so she could spend a week at a Burmese Buddhist temple. During her time there, she invited me to come to the temple to witness a shinbyu, a traditional ceremony celebrating the boys that are about to start their Buddhist education. The boys - always under the age of 20, but often much younger - wear traditional outfits and makeup (making them look more like little girls) and ride on the shoulders of Burmese men who make music and dance and thrash around. One of the men convinced me to try some kwun-ya, a popular chewing habit among Burmese (both men and women) consisting mainly of betel leaf, areca nut, and tobacco. I wasn't too crazy about it though. I like my teeth white!
A major reason I went back to Chiang Mai was for Songkran (Thai New Years). There are parades and traditional outfits and music and visits to the temples to pray for good luck in the coming year, but the main reason to celebrate Songkran is for the massive water fight that rages over four days all over the country. Throwing water on others symbolizes washing away all the bad away in preparation for the new year. In more practical terms, it's one of the most fun things I've ever done in my life. For four days, farang and Thais alike roam the streets, either on foot or in the backs of pickup trucks, armed with massive water guns, backpacks of water, or even just buckets (my personal favorite). It's also very common to load huge ice blocks into 55-gallon drums of water, creating a supply of freezing ammunition. When you see a bucket of water flying at your face, you hope that it's warm, but deep down inside, you know you're about to get hit with ice water. On the plus side, you don't notice the 90+ degree temperature outside!
I met up with different groups of friends on the different days; when I wasn't with them, I was happy to wander down to the moat, join up with some Thais, and throw water on whoever was driving by. It's funny that Songkran is a purification ceremony and yet many people in Chiang Mai use water from the moat, which is pretty filthy. I had heard stories of people getting eye infections; sure enough, a day or two after Songkran was over, I developed an ear infection. Apparently the cure (in adults) is to just let it heal itself, which it finally did after several semi-painful days. Still totally worth it.
Clearly I didn't bring my camera out for any of these festivities, as I've noticed that electronics work their best when they're not sopping wet. But this montage sums up the holiday pretty well:
With Songkran over and my work for Bebee finished, I sadly packed up my things, said goodbye to my friends, and boarded a flight for Hong Kong. I was re-entering the first world; this would be the beginning of the end of my travels, but I had learned a few days before that I wouldn't be finishing this trip alone...
Full photo album: Shinbyu
