Hit the road...

Well, I did it, I got my own little hub on the eastern part of the globe. I spent my first night being twenty-five far away from all my dear friends and family, but at least I got to spend it in my own bed! You should have seen me this morning. Well, it was morning in Europe, here it was well beyond morning, but after celebrating one's birthday and becoming an old-timer one is entitled to sleeping well into the afternoon. So first thing I did was pour a bottle of warm water into my system. (No fridge in my 50-Euro apartment.) Trying to keep my hangover from getting the better of me I spontaneously jumped out of bed and started to stretch my arms as I froze with terror. Luckily I froze with my arms in midair, as anything well above my head would have meant a little visit to the local hospital. You see, ceilings are high to Asian standards, so no problems there, but the hovering fan does tend to cut off pointy fingers when set to full force. I wonder if I could save expenses on my haircut if I just jump up once in a while. Well, you will be the first to know, I promise. Next thing I did was running to the toilet to get rid of all those digested (and well-fermented) foods and fluids. (I had the unfortunate idea of trying to get as many different countries into my stomach while celebrating my birthday. I started with Thai rice and chicken for breakfast, moved on to Us style tuna-sandwich with sweet onions, then some kebab in Middle-East street off Sukumvit, to top it off in the evening with more Thai and French fries, to end with the totally unnecessary but nevertheless delicious Israelian Humus and shoarma.) Aha, another little surprise: No toilet. Well, not as we know it. Instead of spending half an hour on the loo with today's paper, I will just be doing it like a girl in the woods. Squatting, that is. Yup, my toilet consists of a porcelain bowl with two footstands engraved in it. Just place yourself on top of it, make sure your tie doesn't dangle in front of your wee-wee and start applying pressure on your lower half. I've been told this way of drooping your droppings is actually quiet healthy compared to the western version. No hanging around here, and so those nasty hemorrhoids don't get a chance of popping up neither. So I've been told. Anyways, sitting so close to the things you have eaten before doesn't really do your hangover any good, so sticking around wouldn't be my choice even if I was squatted comfortably. All in all however I felt pretty proud of my new home. Next thing you know I'll be having a job for Buddha's sake! Well, actually, that might be a good thing. Keeps me from walking around too much. Because that's what I've been doing the rest of the day. Sweating and walking.

I can assure you these Bangkok pavements are not winning any contests in my book. At least not in my "places to stroll around mindlessly without twisting both your ankles" book. It's a thin book, I'll admit to that, but nevertheless it's an important one. If you like your ankles, that is. Potholes that can bring you off balance and thus making you bounce into one of the foodstalls with their boiling oil-pans, Roots from trees creeping out of the cracks of crooked tiles, tiles missing, tiles sticking out for no apparent reason apart from making non-friendly contact with your little toe, ... These are some of the things a pedestrian has to deal with walking any of the not that many pavements. I wonder if that is why everybody is always taking a taxi, motorbike or bus to get from their homes to the shop around the corner. Or is it the other way around? Since no one ever feels like sweating and thus restrain from any kind of exercise outside of airconditioned environments, there is no need to keep the pavements in good shape.
I'll have to give them one thing tough. For a country where people throw trash everywhere but in trash-bins, these pavements look pretty clean. (Not taking air-pollution in account) And for a city where stray dogs rule the streets instead of domestic dogs on a leash, I'm surprised no one ever has shit on their shoes. Actually, I've never seen a turd on the streets since I've been here. There must be some sort of highly-efficient (read "Japanese") Robot-crew out there, scanning the pavements and cleaning them up before anyone shows up to make the damage worse by flattening it out and talking it for a walk. Hrmm. Maybe this dogs are doing it in the trash-bins. Well, then they would get used after all. Everybody happy. Watch out tough for not kicking over beggars cups filled with coins. These little buggers put their beggar-gear in the most inconvenient places. My guess is they are raising their income by appealing to your feeling of guilt after kicking their cup over. I know I put a nice ten Baht in there last time I spilled the poor guys income all over the pavement and onto the streets. (No chance of retrieving it safely until the next traffic jam.) And all that is why I rather hit the road than walk the sidewalk...

Wauw! Seems like the whole town has put on all their partylights just at the same time as my twentyfifth birthday! Ain't I a lucky bird! Well, I hope you guys and gals out there are gonna have a good time you all, if not today, then in say, ow, two days from now!!! And don't forget to put on your partylights...

So this is Christmas, Bangkok style

Well, spending Christmas in a tropical area is not quite romantic, but fun it certainly is! The only Santa Clauses around are all having real beards and seem to speak German, sweat a lot and always have very young and naughty looking girls clutching on their bellies. Instead of saying Ho ho ho in a deep and low voice, they let the giggles come from the younger ones present, provided of course that there are presents to be handed out. Anyways, I'm not here for Santa Claus.
In Bangkok however one cannot escape the cheerfully happy Christmas tunes coming from hidden or not so hidden but ever-persistent speakers in elevators, shopping malls and even the shabby foodstalls in dark alleys. Trouble is, where's the snow? Or even the clouds of air coming out of our mouths as we walk trough the streets? No such luck here. You can try of course to stumble into a freezer and get yourself locked in there to get a little bit of the winter-spirit into your system, but then again, I've never spent Christmas between chopped up corpses of porks and cows, I spent Christmas between fellow porkies chopping up cows. (Well, my family is quite sweet actually, even when we're drunk we only swear at each other between two courses and after making sure we got our presents already safely stacked away somewhere.)
Well, no escaping the dull and stupefying Christmas songs then, but at least the local idea of luring people into stores, bars and restaurants is by dressing up the best looking girls like Suzy Claus. Yep, all the waitresses, shopkeepers and even the 7/11 staff have to wear at least a christmas bonnet. (And it doesn't keep 'em from looking hot, somehow.) While I am trying to keep from melting this people happily run around with a red bonnet and a white fake-furred rim. They don't have a clue why, but they know it is connected with all the presents everybody seems to buy these days. And their tips increase as well. Wow! This hats must have magical powers as far as they are concerned. Well, that could explain why even three days after Christmas everyone is still dressed up and the annoying songs still play everywhere. Even in the Hi-Fi shops while on all the TV-screens images of drowned people and wrecked beach-bungalows are constantly being shown. Over and over again. Try it at home, put on that cd every house has these days, full of crooners and ballads of Snow, Santa and Bells. And put on CNN. Or BBC World. But kill the sound of your telly. Okay, now haul in every TV your house has into that same room. Go to your neighbours, borrow theirs, call your family, make them help. Friends too, Christmas is about all the ones you love. Put all sets on the same Channel. Make sure it is something gruelsome. Then put on that disc. A little bit too loud. Okay, mix with some smells of noodles boiling and fish frying. Now all start walking around in that room, everyone you called, make them all go somewhere, but make sure they stay in the room. Everybody must keep moving. Never get angry with each other though, that's not how it's done here... Just make sure you run constantly in each others way, but never completely block each other. Yes, that's it. Keep the sordid-screens in your peripheral vision. Order some noodles. Pay not more than 25 cents, or the cook is ripping you off with a smile there! There you go, now you've been here. Sort of. Just like your beloved reporter here. Sort of. Merry New Years to you all!

So this was Christmas...

Seems like Thai people try to make up for the lack of snow by throwing in some extra water...
(for more information, check out your local newssuplier) By the way, thanks all for your concern, but as I am in Bangkok the only disaster that struck me on the twentyfifth consisted of changing shirts twice because of sweatstains... See ya all in the next Blog!

Pakbeng Harbour.. Halfway between Huay Xai and Luang Prabang.

You know what they say about Lao-womenfolk: "You can take the women from the mountain, but you can't take the mountain from of the woman."

Weaving silk can be a slow but beautiful activity...

On the road to Vientiane

Just one of many caves around Vang Vien...

Thank god for French colonialism...

Business as usual in Vang Vien

Arrival in Vientiane..

Memories from childhood...

One might be tempted to start playing soccer after all, under these conditions...

Luang Prabang, population 16.000, dreamfactor set to stun..

Laos has brought itself upon us. The pace is set, the odds are clear, let the story begin...

From Huay Xai (Thai Border) to Luang Prabang takes the best of two days on the rythm of the mud-colored Mekhong. The three most exciting moments were (in chronological order):
A. suitcase falls of boat because of the lack of windows near the pile of bags and suitcases. Man from Tsjechie looks angry because his socks and Kundera books are getting soaked while one of the boatsmen tries to fish the bag out of the water.
B. Boatsman falls in the water after slipping while climbing of the roof, a rush of air flows trough the boat like a mexican wave as the audience (120 crammed tourists) wonder if the stream has pulled him under or not. He emerges on shore with a sheepish grin on his face and water dripping from his cellphone...
C. Tourist with backpack and plastic bag slips from the landing plank and lands in the water before getting safely on the riverbank. After two days of sitting together like sardines in a box watching jungle -mountains and rocks slide by at a relaxing pace, only those that really know the drenched fella gasp.

Intermezzo

S21 interrogation room, Pnomh Penh. This is where your ordinary traitor found accomodation before being send to one of the many killing fields..

Me and the toiletman

Yours truly posing soberly with the toiletman. Maybe I have mentioned it before, but many of the better drinking-venues around Bangkok offer full-service in their restrooms. This means that you don't even have to shake your little brother dry if you would be so viciously lazy, but more often it means there is someone there to give you soap, let the tap run, close it again so you don't make your hands dirty again, offering you a steaming towel and occasionally giving you a shouldermassage while you are trying not to pee all over the spick-and-span floor from sheer surprise! Yes, for real! And it's not only 5star hotels, every self-respecting airco-pub and all the good discos have these little fellas, the more posh the more fellas, it seems...