Travelogue

Hello all.

Greetings from the city-state of Singapore, an island
in Asia inches north of the Equator. We arrived
yesterday after an 8-hr flight which spanned three
time zones, two hemispheres, two in-flight meals,
three in-flight movies, and one really cool video game
(on the personal TV console on the back of the seat in
front of Scott.)

In Australia the luxuries were saunas and iced
coffees. The entire city of Singapore is really just
one gigantic outdoor sauna to which everybody is
admitted for free. Nestle sells really good canned
iced coffee here, very cheap.

But the luxuries change with what is rare. In
Singapore, the new luxury is toilet paper.

                   * * * * *

Walking eyeball! Signs in and around Singapore:

* Large delivery truck: Only Our Dog Food Has the
Secret Five Ingredients for Best Health

* Flyer on street: Please donate to the Elderly Meal
fund so our elderly can have two nutritious meals a
day

* Bright pink T-shirt in store with glittery writing:
If TOU make a mistake, 1. ADMIT IT! 2. LEARN FROM
IT!! 3. DON'T REPEAT IT!!! (The 'TOU' is not a typo.
It is really what the shirt says.)

* Sign next to bank: GETRICH QUICK LOTTERY

* Over a restaurant: TASTY CLAYPOT FROG PORRIDGE.
World famous. Very Cheap. No Reservation Necessary.

* In a vegetarian Halal restaurant: NO MEAT OR
ALCOHOLICS. (Halal is the rough Muslim equivalent of
kosher.)

                  * * * * *

A (hopefully tasteful) Asian Bathroom Story:

We are staying at the Chinatown Guest House in
Singapore's Chinatown for US$9 apiece. We have the
nicest room in the place, because it has a double bed
which is off the floor and two pillows and pink floral
curtains and a large fan. It has no sheets. (The
other rooms have 6" mattresses on the floor and no
pillows and no floral curtains and no fan. They are
all occupied.)

There is a forty-something Chinese/Malay woman who is
running the place. She has her hair in a Mary Tyler
Moore 'do and likes to yell at the other guests about
"5 BUCKS! YOU GIVE ME 5 BUCKS." It seems to be the
most fun to yell at them after dark. She has not
yelled at us yet.

There is a single small tiled room for showering and
excreting, with a bamboo curtain you pull closed for
privacy.

There is a hose/shower nozzle attachment on one side
of the room, which gives some cold water for
showering.

There is a shallow pan on a raised step on the other
side of the room for your other business. On the
floor on either side of the pan is the white porcelain
"elephant foot" -- a suggestion of where to squat.
Near the ceiling -- 12 feet above -- is a tank full of
water for flushing, and a cord you can pull to flush.

There is no toilet paper anywhere. The savvy girl
brings her own.

This morning I had to wait to use the bathroom because
somebody else was showering.

When he came out, I went in and saw LO! The hole was
full of sudsy water! Pretty cool. Must be left over
from Mr. Shower Man. I have never seen rich, thick
suds like that in a lavatory before. I wonder what
brand of soap he uses. What a fabulous lather. With
a slight change of venue, this really should be a soap
commercial.

Do my business. Pull flush cord.

With a great WHOOMPH, the water thunders from the tank
on the ceiling to the bowl on the floor.

I watch in slow horror as the bubbles in the bowl
froth and get very large, and slowly overflow the hole
on the step and work their way down to floor of the
shower, where I am standing in bare feet.

Fortunately, the excess bubbles made their way to the
shower drain, and not an inch too soon, either.

Note to self: wear Tevas next time in the bathroom.

                   * * * * *

We will be in Singapore for another two or three days,
and then are taking the train up to Malaysia.

Evidently one can get off the train at a place called
Timpin and catch a 'taksi' to Malaka, aka the
Maluccas, the beginnings of the Dutch and French and
British spice tradings in this part of the East
Indies.

Malaka has until now been this irrelevant far-away
place about which I have read in history books; it has
been an obscure place about which I have conveniently
forgotten until my next World History Exam; it has
been a difficult-to-locate place for which Columbus
aimed but missed; it has been an unknown place about
which I have been required to write long,
grammatically correct sentences.

This week it will become a reality. Hopefully, a
reality without too many mosquitoes!

Love to all,
Carrie (in the Planet Cafe at address 06-00 on the
sixth floor of the Fujan Building in downtown
Singapore, on top of six floors of Japanese
electronics and French silk wedding dresses and
American food, all desperately for sale at special
price, this day only, super sale, just for you!!)
and
Scott (in the cubicle right next to me)

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December 3, 2000 - The creepy and the crawly...

Cub reporter Scott Wynter reporting from Malaka,
Malaysia...

While in the cab on the way to town, I started feeling
something tickling the top of my foot. At first I
just thought it was the cloth from the seat in front
of me...but just before we got out I looked down and
saw a 2 inch cockroach perched on toes. He was
scared...I was was a man in motion. Imagine trying to
shake your foot and leap from a cab at the same time.
Mission accomplished (with great style I might add).
Later on that night, we were taking a leisurely stroll
on our way to dinner, we met some others doing the
same thing. The rats were leaving the sewer and
running into the shops. They seem quite excited, for
the squeaks sounded very happy. Wonder what they were
having for dinner? I hope this doesn't sound like we
are not having a great time, nothing could be further
from the truth. The people are very friendly, and
more than willing to point us lost foreigners in the
right direction (which is quite often).

Malaka is a former Portuguese colony dating back to
1511. Around about 1650 the Dutch relieved the
Portuguese of their possession, and many of the Dutch
building still survive. Malaka, being a large trading
port, starting having Indians and Chinese settling
down to live. Today, there are 6 groups of people
living here. There are the Malay/Portuguese, the
Malay/Chinese, the Malay/Indians, the Malay, the
Chinese, and the Indians. Each group has their own
customs, being a combination in the mixed group. What
does that mean for us...lots of good food.

Really nice things about Malaysia:

They brew Carlsberg and Guinness here, and it is
really good.

We have a hard time spending more than $US7 for a full
meal (for both of us).

More to come,

Scott

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December 3, 2000 - Yes, Virginia, there really is Christmas in Asia

Hello all!

Greetings from Malaysia. People have asked, what is
the Christmas season like in Malaysia and Singapore?

In a nutshell, yes, Virginia, there really is a Santa
Claus.

Santa? Over here? But aren't these Asian people?

To give it all the proper historical background:

* Singapore was founded in 1819 as a British colony.
The Brits imported as many Chinese laborers as they
possibly could, threw in some Indian merchants for
good measure, hired the indiginous Malay rice workers,
and attracted the occasional ship-jumping Eurasian
sailor who would disappear into this exotic melee.
Then they got involved in WWII and had to give up
their colonies, including Singapore, when it was over.

* As a result, Singapore's ethnic mix is mostly
Chinese, some Malay, and some Indian. The rest of us
evidently all look the same and are called
"Eurasians." Most of the locals are Taoist or Muslim,
except for us wacky Eurasians who run the gamut from
Catholic to Greek Orthodox to Protestant to agnostic.

* The biggest religion in Singapore is capitalism.
They all want to make a buck, preferably by selling
you something brightly colored, impossibly gaudy, and
extremely expensive.

* Malaysia has been here forever. Islam came, saw,
and conquered - the women wear head scarves and long
coat-dress type things and there are mosques
everywhere. There have been flickerings of the Roman
Catholic, Protestant, more Roman Catholic, and
Anglican religions as the Portuguese, Dutch, French,
and British sat on the nest for a brief moment in
time. However, the Europeans are pretty much gone
now, and the Malays are still here. It's very
definitely a Muslim nation. (In fact, it's Ramadan
now, which everybody knows is a much bigger deal than
Christmas because it lasts a whole month.)

* Malaysia is also very much an 'up and coming'
nation. They are highly interested in education,
particularly information technology, accounting,
computer engineering, and other high-tech things.

* The Malays, like the Singaporeans, also love to make
a buck. So far as I can tell, they are good Muslims,
but there is evidently nothing in the Koran which
forbids the mass manufacture of small red Santa
Clauses, or bright green "Merry Cristmes" signs, or
hanging paper lanterns everywhere.

                * * * * *

So what does this all mean to Virginia?

* If you look at Christmas as a celebration of the
birth of the Christ Child, nobody here cares much.
Jesus never really registered with the Taoists or
Buddhists, and is only one of many minor prophets in
the Koran.

* If you look at Christmas as a celebration of peace
on earth and goodwill to all mankind, the people here
(who are uncomfortably close to the strife in
Indonesia) are really rooting for the peace concept.

* If you look at Christmas as a celebration of
capitalism, we are celebrating it with the masters.

* Singapore's streets are jammed with stuff. We saw:

A fifty-foot green plastic tree adorned with pear
ornaments and a large bird (the partridge) on top of
it.

Two British guys dressed up like elves and delivering
presents to crowds of thrilled little Chinese kids.

Estee Lauder's "White Christmas" advertising campaign,
complete with posters of snow and reindeer which look
really strange in the 90-degree heat.

The Countdown To LightUp! You can Party Sexy All The
Night Long with the Rock Arounding The Christmas Tree.
(Every nightclub seems to have its own tree-lighting
ceremony and drink specials. Plus sexy taxi girls if
you're lucky.)

A one-hour line to go sit on Santa's lap. Santa wears
a red T-shirt, shorts, sandals, and once he gets into
air-conditioning he puts on his white beard and red
hat. Everybody knows he's Asian and eats rice and soy
milk as a midnight snack. (Right next to Santa, there
was a line of a similar size to go sit on the lap of
two people in full-body Sesame Street Ernie and Bert
costumes.)

The merchants in Singapore are also stocking up on
Chinese New Year paraphernalia, in exactly the same
spirit they have on Christmas stuff. The C.N.Y. is in
February and will probably be bigger than Christmas
there.

In Malaka, Malaysia, the streets are full of lights.
They are evidently Christmas lights, but they are
orange and green, red and white, blue and green --
almost any combination except red and green.

Santa comes on little paper lanterns, with big Chinese
characters on one side of them and a Santa picture on
the other. This Santa wears the full-body
red-and-white costume but his hair and beard are black
and his eyes are Asian. He also hangs out in paper
lanterns strung on the top of cafes.

                     * * * * *

And, I have to say, while Santa and his Christmas
presents are pretty popular, Jesus Christ himself is
pretty scarce over here.

There's one candidate: a blond dude with blue eyes
and nails through his hands and feet hanging out on
the wall of an old Portuguese church. Right next to
him is an invitation to help the poor, and next to
that is an invitation to the Sri Chinmoy Meditation
Center. There's a Catholic wash basin beneath him for
holy water and a few coins.

                    * * * * *

Well, beautifuls, that's all for now. Wishing you all
a Happy Ramadan, a Merry Christmas, and a Prosperous
Chinese New Year!

Love,
    Carrie (going back to see the old Dutch City House
Fortress this afternoon)
    and Scott (who is conducting his very own love
affair with the local fauna, especially those with six
legs or long naked tails)

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December 4, 2000 - Mornings in Malaka - Come read the paper with me!

Hello all.

This morning, instead of the same old coffee and toast
and ultra-familiar Chronicle or Wall Street journal, I
invite you to come to Malaysia with me.

Before breakfast, we'll walk through streets full of
very loud motorcycles, over sidewalks which change
height every 10 feet or so, past stalls selling batik
fabric, well away from the stinky durian fruit seller.
(It will be close to 90 degrees by 9 am, and quite
humid, so you can wear a hat if you're having too much
of a bad hair day.)

We'll sit in an open-air cafe, on plastic chairs,
squarely in front of the fan, and have fried rice or
hot noodle soup or (for the very adventurous)
tomato-and-egg sandwiches made by Mama-san. We'll
drink Kopi Iis, drip coffee with condensed milk and
ice cubes in it. We'll watch the women on the
sidewalk go by in full-length bright but chastely
shapeless dresses and very carefully color-coordinated
head scarves (fashion is alive and well and can
accommodate any morality).

And we'll turn to the "Daily Mail" newspaper. Here
are some of the more interesting articles or
advertisements:

                  * * * * *

GIRL TAKES REVENGE ON BOYFRIEND. It is said that
"hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." Martin
learned it the hard way. Martin, 20, went around
claiming he had sex with his then-girlfriend, a
14-year-old girl. In fact, Martin and Wendy did not
have sex. But Wendy was mad that Martin was spreading
rumours about her and decided to even the score.

At 12:50 am last July 22, together with Jimmy, 25, and
Simon, 21, and Jessica, 16, she confronted him as he
came out of the elevator. Wendy gave Martin three
choices: 1) Fight with one of the men 2) Let the
four of them beat him up, or 3) Buy them a carton of
cigarettes and two bottles of beer.

<< Condensed version: Martin doesn't have the money,
and after a wild goose chase there is a fight
involving all of them. >>

Last week, Wendy, now 15, appeared in Juvenile Court
to answer to a charge of intimidation. Simon was
convicted of criminal intimidation and sentenced to
four weeks' jail. Jessica was given a stern warning.

Martin (the ex-boyfriend) was convicted last November
of voluntarily causing hurt with a dangerous weapon
and sentenced to 15 months' jail and six strokes of
the cane.

                  * * * * *

Dear Help Wanted: When I started Form One school four
years ago, I met the girl I have been looking for all
my life. This year, I thought we could spend time
together but she already has a boyfriend -- a lazy
jerk with an attitude problem. I'm better looking,
more hardworking, I don't make trouble, and I don't
have a black record in school or with the police.
Should I tell her how I feel? I might never see her
again. -- BLANK BOY in Shah Alam

Readers respond to BLANK BOY:
#1) You must make the first move, but be careful.
Girls can be scared off by a boy who seems
over-anxious. -- MAZLAN HASHIM, in Pekan

#2) YOU sound insufferable and conceited. Anyone
would prefer a rogue to you. Besides, by running the
other boy down, you will only make her defensive. --
LADY in Klang

#3) You have stood by and watched and never even
spoken to her so you have no right to make comments on
how she leads her life. -- ANDY in Petaling Jaya

#4) Stop fantasizing! Wake up to reality! You have
no business being a busybody and interfering. --
BULBIR SINGH in Seremban

#5) By your own description of yourself, you sound
conceited, pompous, and like a know-it-all. Even if
she didn't already have a boyfriend, she would
probably reject you. -- AUNTIE in Kuala Lumpur

                  * * * * *

Dear Mrs. Jagjeet (a Malaysian Dear Abby):

MY SON, who is in high school, is weak in his studies,
lazy and argumentative, especially to his mother. Is
there an army training centre for children or
motivational classes where I can send him during
school holidays? -- CONCERNED DAD in Shah Alam

<< Mrs Jagjeet's response is extremely long-winded but
basically says, try the motivational classes, and if
he doesn't improve, do call the military, they'll take
him if he's not too too horrible. >>

                  * * * * *

Advertisements:

USA MEN SEEK love and marriage with English speaking
women, 18-45. Send detailed letter about yourself and
the man you seek with 2 smiling photos for a Free
Listing. Cherry Blossoms, Hawaii, USA.

TRADITIONAL MASSAGE FOR MEN. Proven for 3
generations. Come and meet En. Mohammed Rafdi Haji
Yayha, the descendant of Allahyarham Tabib Abdul Hadi.
<< picture of very solemn looking masseur with a
pencil-thin moustache in a traditional Malay hat. >>

TRADITIONAL MASSAGE FOR MEN. Don't wait until it's
too late! Tuan Haji Yahya Abdul Hadi. Now in Kuala
Lumpur. If you have tried almost everything but
without avail, don't lose hope. Meet Hadi's eldest
son. With Allah's grace, your problems shall soon be
over, bringing back your health and bliss. << picture
of very solemn looking masseur, clean-shaven, in a
turban and talking on the telephone. >>

DESPATCH BOYS WANTED. Urgently with own motorbike
based in Kuchai Lama, Segambut and Ampang. Telephone
7802218.

HANDPHONE SHOP LOOKING for aggressive Female indoor
Sales Promoter and Office Boy. Tel 91308792.

KINDERGARTEN TEACHER REQUIRED at Puchong, Proficient
in English and Bahasa Malaysian. Preferred Indian and
Malay. Computer knowledge essential.

QUALITY EDUCATION AT KBU! Engineering, science, and
technology, business administration, computer studies,
graphic design. United States Programs -- 2 years at
Kuala Lumpur, 2 years at University of Missouri, USA!
Or at Nottingham Trent University, UK!

<< Side note -- no wonder there are so many Malaysian
students in the US! Everywhere you go, there are
advertisements to study in the US. Train stations,
newspapers, cafes, bus stops, and of course the
colleges themselves. The ads almost always show fat
blond happy Americans side-by-side with their fat dark
happy Malaysian exchange students, both partners
wearing a college graduation mortarboard hat and
smiling into the camera as if they were contestants in
the Miss World pageant.>>

<< Side side note -- evidently Miss World was recently
won for the second year in a row by an Indian woman.
The Malays are all ruffled about it because Malaysia
doesn't have a 'beauty queen factory' like India does.
>>

                  * * * * *

Well, 'nuff with the coffee-and-fried-rice for now.
Enjoy your high-fiber cereal and have a marvy day!

:)
Love,
    Carrie (who now does not blink at fried rice in
the morning but is still trying to get past the strong
fishy odor of certain other breakfast dishes)

    and Scott (who ate the fried egg sandwich for
breakfast this morning and is still alive to tell the
tale)

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December 7, 2000 - Big Night Out in Kuala Lumpur

Hello oh-wintering-lovelies!

Did you enjoy breakfast with the Malakan newspaper?
How about a night on the town with us in Kuala Lumpur,
Malaysia?

Come on ... start with a cold shower and a change into
rumpled but somewhat clean clothing about 4:30 pm.

                   * * * * *

Walk with us through hot and noisy streets - they do
not have many pedestrian crosswalks, do not use
mufflers and do not appear concerned about exhaust
either (what's the use when you smoke lots of
cigarettes each day anyways?) The car drivers go at
it fast and furious; the moped drivers seem to be
fresh off of the Motocross racecourses. While nobody
behind the wheel of a motor vehicle seems to be
actively homicidal, they're a bit too haphazard to
just relax and walk in the crosswalk when the green
blinking man lights up.

So be snappy, and look both ways several times as you
cross the street. Oh, and make sure you run the last
half of it. You'll need to.

                   * * * * *

Visit the Petronas Twin Towers -- possibly the tallest
in the world -- and luxuriate in the air-conditioned
shopping (possibly the most expensive in SE Asia?) and
enjoy the western-style bathrooms. Carefully create a
great bundle of their toilet paper and press it flat
in your pocket for later use. Now we're styling!

Pop into one bar opposite the Shangri-La Hotel and
watch loads of chubby Westerners drink expensive beer
as they watch the three baby sharks swim in a tank
above the bartender's head. Decide that 55 ringit
($15) is extortionate for a pitcher of beer and move
on.

                   * * * * *

It's Happy Hour at the KL Hard Rock Cafe! Over
locally brewed Carlsbergs, talk with an Australian who
lives in Malaysia.

Aussie on his younger years: "Grew up on a farm in
Western Australia, you know, sheep and the like. Left
school at 14. Moved to Sydney and did motorcycle
racing until I had to retire due to injuries. I was
19."

Aussie on his current line of business: "I'm a
driller. Like for oil except I drill for gold,
minerals, that sort of stuff. Going to build three
big rigs, put 'em on tank treads, not wheels, so that
way they can go anywhere. Just bid on a contract to
dig for gold in Romania so I'm planning to go there
after winter is over. You know, too expensive to dig
there in wintertime. But I gotta find a rather large
ship to carry my three drillers over there."

Aussie on his current living situation: "I live here,
in central Malaysia. Compound out in the jungle, 2
1/2 hours away from the city. Moved here 5 years ago
for business reasons - lots of things to drill for
here. Learned Bahasa (Malaysian language), hire the
locals. My wife, she's Israeli, so a Muslim country
won't let her come in, so she's waiting for her
Australian passport back home in Perth. I go back to
see her every so often."

Aussie's recommendations on where to go in Malaysia:
"Come stay with me! Here's my phone number!"

Would he like to come join us for dinner? "Oh, thanks
mate, sorry, I can't. Waiting for a business deal to
happen. They're all upstairs -- you can't do that
sort of stuff at the office or in a bar, you know.
But my lawyer will come get me soon. It will be all
done by Monday at the latest." (it was then a
Wednesday evening).

                   * * * * *

Leave Hard Rock Cafe, feeling a bit tipsy, and weave
way back towards our hotel (the Coliseum Hotel in
Little India. It sounds much grander than it really
is).

Pass by the Fierce Curry House, which has flames
painted on its walls and a red inferno color to the
kitchen.

Last night's dinner was disguised as Portuguese fish
and curry noodles. But instead it was really two
small nuclear bombs in plastic bowls, with chopsticks
to complete the disguise. Keep walking. I do not
wish to even smell Fierce Curry Shop's offerings.

                   * * * * *

Pass by a Halal restaurant, an open-air cafe run by
these Indian guys. A small cat is stalking a rooster
which is very much larger than the small cat.

Debate: Halal means no pork and no alcohol at the
restaurant. Is it unethical to go in there already
drunk? We decide it's probably fine so long as we
don't appear too slopped.

The owner makes us these thick pancakes filled with
onion and eggs, and separates out the spicy sauce.
Delicious.

                   * * * * *

On the way back from dinner, decide we deserve root
beer floats at A&W. (A&W is everywhere in Malaysia!).
Walk into icy air-conditioned restaurant where a
bored-looking girl in an immaculate white head scarf
and a "Civil Engineering" T-shirt is cleaning the
windows.

If you had ordered something even moderately spicy for
dinner, afterwards you'd be needing some ice cream to
recover feeling in your three remaining taste buds.
We would have had to run to A&W. That type of ice
cream is a necessity.

However, this ice cream is not. It's a luxury, and
ice cream for dessert is really so much nicer when you
can actually taste it.

                   * * * * *

And, a la American Express commercials: the final
tally for the grand evening out on the town --

TP re-stock in the Petronas Towers: FREE
Get sloshed at Hard Rock Cafe:    24 ringgit
Dinner with Mohammed and Co:      17 ringgit
Root beer floats at A&W:           6 ringgit

The stories we heard from our drilling Aussie friend
-- priceless.

                   * * * * *

Love and hot curry kisses to all!
-- Carrie and Scott
    (currently bracing to brave KL's rush hour traffic
to get back to hotel)

                   * * * * *

BTW -- it's officially 3.8 ringgit to the dollar. So
our big night out ran between 12 and 13 dollars.

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December 10, 2000 - Kota Bharu, Malaysia

Hey gang,

Last night we came in from Kuala Lumpur on the Jungle
Railway, a 13 hour epic trip that wound in and around
jungles, rivers, mountains, 6 chicken villages, and
dropped us off in the Muslim stronghold of Malaysia,
Kota Bharu. Because of Ramadan, everyone here is
fasting during the daylight hours. What that really
means is that everyone is really hungry and thirsty
till after dusk, so don't piss them off or you will
get an earful (no, I have been very careful...but I
know what you are thinking). When food is served, it
is really good. Beer would be almost impossible to
obtain if it wasn't for the kindly Chinese shopkeepers
who are always willing to make ringgit or two.

Your brew hunter,

Scott

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December 10, 2000 - The Jungle Train to Kota Bharu

Hello all!

We took the "Jungle Train" from KL to Kota Bharu.
"KB," as it is known, is on the northeast corner of
Malaysia, and is famous for very many things, among
them being a stronghold of Islamic learning and
culture, being a place where they make really cool
kites, and being a place where the Japanese landed in
WWII en route to taking Singapore.

The train ride was 13 hours through dense rainforest.
There were a few tin-roofed huts here and there, and
the occasional "city," but for the most part it's
jungle, jungle, jungle.

It is a tremendous amount of work to keep up
appearances in the jungle. (Honestly, I cannot figure
out why the British ever bothered.)

Leave your car parked in the same place for a bit too
long, and fingers of vines will grow up through the
engine and windows, gripping the metal and pulling
your vehicle back to the jungle.

Leave a window to your house cracked open a bit, and
you will have a finger wrap-tap-tapping through it,
invariably aiming for your sink or refrigerator or
smallest child.

Leave your lunch for just a minute, and you will have
shared it with all creatures great and small.

But the real excitement was inside the train. It had
the most ghastly series of American movies I have ever
seen. The nicest thing I can say about them was that
the sound kept going on and off so you didn't have to
listen to them for very long.

9:30 am: start train ride.

10 am: "Home Fries." A pregnant Drew Barrymore gets
chased by a bad guy in a helicopter with lots of guns.

noon: "Hostile Intent." Rob Lowe and a bunch of his
buddies get stalked through thick jungle (though
nothing compared to what we got outside the window).
One by one the bad guys kill them off with lots of
machine guns.

2 pm: "Hollywood's Greatest Stuntmen." Various
people set themselves on fire and fall from great
heights unnecessarily. No guns; lots of explosions.

5 pm: "Wedlock." Two unknown actors steal a bunch of
diamonds and shoot lots of policemen with several
small and medium-sized weapons. Bonus: western-style
love scenes to offend even moderate Muslims.

7 pm: Unknown Christmas movie. Scrooge is
reincarnated as a 27-year-old blonde NYC book editor.
No guns or gratuitous murders, but the dialogue is
awful. Perhaps a rocker launcher or a tank would have
improved it.

9 pm: Blank blue screen. No more movies! Ahhhhh,
sweet surrender.

(postscript: 10 pm: arrival in KB! hooray! taxi to
hostel, check into room, which is glorious ... except
for one persistent tendril of the jungle creeping in
the bathroom window. I think this one is going for
the toilet.)

Love,
C + S (glad to be off the train!)

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December 10, 2000 - People everywhere are the same!

Hello lovelies.

A big thank you to Shelly Pizarro for bringing the
following to my attention: People everywhere are the
same.

They want to be loved. (Today at lunch I just had to
try "Our Speciality Love Potion Number 9," a mix of
calamansi juice and lime juice, with a sour plum
bumping around the bottom like a small wrinkled toad.)

They want to be beautiful. (Muslim women here wear
head scarves and long shapeless coat-dresses for
modesty, but that does not in any way stop fashion.
Today I saw a woman wearing a head scarf which had: a
black border, followed by a 3" maize-and-blue
polka-dot pattern on it, followed by a 3"
black-and-white zebra stripe. The center of the scarf
was the most luscious leopard print.)

They want to party-sexy. (The internet cafes here are
full of Malay Beavoids who use chat rooms to
party-sexy with English-speaking girls from around the
globe. No wonder English is such a popular school
subject!)

They want the exotic. (Here, everybody wants to study
abroad in France -- to see the snow and ski -- or
vacation in New Zealand -- again to see the snow -- or
at the very least to watch movies filmed in cold
locations. More snow.)

They want to be remembered forever. (The Islamic
Museum in town has a huge wall full of pictures of
past religious leaders. It really reminds me of those
lists of every Pope since Paul, or every Protestant
leader since Martin Luther. Instead of the Catholic
wall (old dead white men in long white dresses) or the
Protestant wall (old dead white men in sombre black
dresses) we have the Islamic wall (old dead yellow men
in beards and long white dresses). Oh, yeah. The
ones on the Islamic wall for the most part were
wearing thick black-rimmed glasses, too.)

They see huge differences in themselves, differences
which to outsiders look "all the same." (Again,
Islamic Museum to the rescue. They had a wall full of
photos of women in different types of Islamic dress.
The captions pointed out this difference as very good,
or that difference as very decadent, or this type of
knot, or that type of twist to the scarf. I was
dumbfounded. These women not only have head scarves
on, but also have completely opaque black veils over
their entire faces. And yet to the insider, this is
"major difference."

Missing you all!
Love,
C + S (Who are just about to concede that yes,
indeed, all white people do look the same!)

(return to top)

December 12, 2000 - Ramadan...no laughing matter

And you thought we were kidding about this place...

Monday December 11 11:07 AM ET
Muslim Fast Breakers Risk Exposure

KUALA LUMPUR, Malaysia (Reuters) - In a society where
public embarrassment is the ultimate disgrace, Muslims
in northern Malaysia caught eating during the fasting
hours in the holy month of Ramadan had better watch
out.

On Monday, northern Kedah state will start
broadcasting the names of Muslims caught eating during
fasting hours, state religious affairs committee
chairman Fadzil Hanafi told Reuters.

During Ramadan, Muslims are supposed to fast from
sunrise to sunset but Fadzil said many had been
breaking the rule and eating snacks.

Ten names were already on a list to be broadcast on
local radio, Fadzil said from Alor Star, the capital
of Kedah, a state in Malaysia's rural north where the
opposition Islamic Party, PAS, is growing in
influence.

(return to top)

December 13, 2000 - N E 1 4 Cambodia ?

Hello everybody!

Another conversation with a fellow tourist.

She was a nice girl, a solo traveller from Washington,
DC, on her first big trip abroad. She had seven
weeks' leave from her job and was making the most of
it.

She was a pretty young thing. She had wavy brown hair
and big blue eyes, and was watching old X-Files reruns
with us in the hostel in Sydney. She held an
Australia tour book and it seemed to me that she was
going to underline every sentence in the entire book.

She was fresh off a plane from Nepal, and was headed
to New Zealand on Christmas Day. We were swapping
advice and stories.

She was a good girl; she would only talk during the
commercial breaks in the television program so as not
to disturb the other watchers.

                       * * * * *

Nice girl: "Nepal was really beautiful. I went on a
14-day guided trek which I bought through my travel
agent in the States. It cost a little more, but they
took care of everything. We didn't even have to do
our own dishes or laundry."

C+S: silently, oh, my. They even did your laundry
for you. Wow. Innocent abroad!

                       * * * * *

Nice girl: "Are you guys going to Cambodia? It's
supposed to be really beautiful."

Lonely Planet on Cambodia: "Sadly, civil strife drags
on in Cambodia. In the last few years several foreign
visitors have been killed. The Khmer Rouge may be
almost finished, but bandits and even elements of the
military and police can be a threat to your safety."

                       * * * * *

Nice girl: "I understand Cambodia may be a little
less ... developed than other places, though."

LP: "Public toilets are pretty scarce in Cambodia.
NEVER wander off the sides of roads in search of
privacy as there is always the very real danger of
land mines."

                       * * * * *

Nice girl: "The jungle life there is pretty
unspoiled."

LP: "Malaria exists year-round in the country and
there have been recent outbreaks of dengue fever.
Food and water-borne diseases, including
dysentery,hepatitis and liver flukes occur, so it's
worth paying attention to basic food and water
hygiene...Visitors to Angkor and other overgrown
archaeological sites should beware of snakes,
including the small but deadly light-green hanuman
snake that hunts after rainstorms."

                       * * * * *

Nice girl: "I mean, it's REALLY off the beaten track.
Not like Nepal which is full of tourists."

LP: "Medical services in Cambodia are poor for the
most part. In the event of a medical emergency,
you'll need to get to Bangkok."

                       * * * * *

Nice girl: "I think it may be a bit too wild for me.
But you -- you're already going to Asia -- maybe you
want to just pop across the border?"

LP: "Do not rely on information given to you by local
people. They often undertake dangerous trips as a
matter of necessity and have no way of assessing the
risks for a foreigner.

Never, ever,touch any rockets, artillery shells,
mortars, mines, bombs, or other war materials. In
Vietnam most of it is at least 20 years old, but in
Cambodia it may have landed there or been laid quite
recently.

Cambodia is one of the most heavily mined countries in
the world and it is estimated there are between 4 and
6 million of these littering the countryside. The
most common way a landmine is discovered is by a man,
woman, or child losing a limb."

                       * * * * *

Nice girl: "And ---"
Carrie: "Have you ever been to Cambodia?"
Nice girl: "No."

Carrie: "Your friend from Nepal -- had he been there
recently?"
Nice girl: "A few years back, or maybe he was
planning to go, I really don't remember. He had all
these really exciting adventurous things to say about
it, though. They really were the most wonderful tales
of adventure."

Carrie: "Oh I see."

                       * * * * *

Later on:

Lonely Planet on Thailand: "Thailand has much to
interest the traveller. The ease of travel, excellent
and economical accommodation, and some of the finest
beaches in Asia continue to make Thailand a very
popular tourist destination. Thais are a friendly lot
and it is an easy and excellent country to visit."

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December 13, 2000 - The Coliseum Hotel in Kuala Lumpur

Hello beautifuls!

For the visually inspired and geographically impaired,
I have found the following links to answer two hugely
popular questions:

1. Where are we? See the map:

http://www.lib.utexas.edu/Libs/PCL/Map_collection/middle_east_and_asia/Malaysia_sm97.gif

2. What have we been doing? See

http://www.geocities.com/TheTropics/Shores/9557/

Where we stay: Image #4
What we drink morning, noon, and night: Image #7
What we eat breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snack:
Image #22

                   * * * * *

We stayed at the Hotel Coliseum in Kuala Lumpur. KL
is approximately the same size as the Twin Cities of
Minneapolis and St. Paul combined, and KL's coolest
day would give Mpls' hottest mosquito-ridden August
roaster a run for its money.

The Hotel itself was built in 1921 and was, at one
time, a grand place. It is in Kuala Lumpur's Little
India, a wonderfully vibrant district with silk shops
and tea merchants and Tele-tubby hawkers shouting
through the shimmering heat and the motorcycle
engines.

As you step off the street into the Hotel, you are in
a pleasantly cool and quiet room. It has high
ceilings, white walls, and dark wood on the floor and
trimming the doorways. There is an air-conditioner in
one window, giving the place a delightful chill, and
on the ceiling are eight fans, to circulate the cool
air more effectively. This is the main restaurant.
(To the left is a doorway going into the bar.)

There are perhaps twenty tables in the restaurant, and
they have "Coliseum Hotel" monogrammed plates on them.
The tablecloths are real linen, hand-washed by an old
Chinese lady on the floor of one of the showers
upstairs.

The silverware is real metal, not the cheap plastic so
beloved of the rest of Asia. There is not even the
hint of a little plastic jar full of bright pink
plastic chopsticks or blue floral print paper napkins.

The tables are of dark wood, and the furniture is
leather and wicker. There are white cloth napkins, to
match the tablecloth. (It is particularly nice to
walk off the street and sit down here. First, you can
delicately dab the sweat and grime off of your face
with the napkin. Soon, between the air-conditioning
and the wicker chair, your shirt begins to unstick
itself, first from your front, then from your back.
Finally, you can feel the waistband of your pants dry
out a bit. Heaven on earth.)

Instead of the teal or fuschia little plastic pot full
of jalapenos swimming in oil, there is a large glass
bottle of Lea + Perrins Worcestershire sauce, and some
tables have "Catsup" as well.

They do not automatically try to feed you fish ball
soup with hot coffee for breakfast (although, of
course, if madame wishes it, it can be arranged, along
with the jalapenos).

You can order eggs and toast, and the eggs will arrive
gently poached, with two thick slices of white bread
toast and a little side ceramic dish of butter. The
butter will be ice-hard, possibly with an ice cube
still swimming in the bowl (advertising that they have
not only a fridge but also a freezer in back.) Your
coffee can arrive either piping hot or iced. We
recommend the iced, for it comes in a tall highball
glass with thick condensed milk stirred into it, ice
cubes piled higher than the glass, and, of course, a
straw.

Through the bar door to the left, you can see a heavy
black 1940's type telephone. On the wall of the bar
are some "New Yorker" style cartoons and several
framed newspaper articles. One is of the owner of the
Coliseum Hotel, an ancient Chinese lady, celebrating
her 100th birthday. The other is from a local paper
in the 1920's and is titled, "What To Do When Your
Servant Has Malaria."

                   * * * * *

...but the Grand Old Lady has gotten old. She had her
first 20 years as part of British Malaya, and so she
got very good at poaching eggs, making toast and tea,
and serving crumpets. (One of the locals also told
Scott the Coliseum Bar was where local taxi girls
would come to meet the millionaire planters.)

From 1941-1945, she was occupied by the Japanese. You
would not know it to see her today -- she hides that
rather well. No sushi or sake on the menu, just the
sizzling steak or the mashed potatoes.

And from 1945 to the present day, she's wobbled
unsteadily through decade after decade of time --
first as a British Protectorate, now as an independent
country. Outside on the street has been Chinatown, a
red-light district, and currently, Little India.

If you look more closely, you can see she's old. The
rich dark woodwork in the restaurant has shrunk,
particuarly around the window air-conditioner.
Unfortunately, it lets in some street smog and noise
and (more unfortunately) lets out some air
conditioning.

There are eight fans on the ceiling; only five of them
are moving, valiantly wobbling around and around,
trying to keep up the workload of their fallen
comrades.

Not all the plates match each other. The silverware
is mismatched also; my spoon's handle does not match
either my knife's handle or my fork's handle.

The tablecloths have what at first glance appears to
be a damask pattern on them, white-on-white
embroidery, perhaps. Upon closer inspection, they are
just a bunch of stains, perhaps from 1972, perhaps
from the diners who used the table just before us.

Next to the Lea + Perrins worcestershire sauce bottle
is a large plastic bottle of soy sauce and another one
of fish sauce. It is one thing to "go western" and
forgo the chopsticks and jalapenos; it is quite
another to give up 8000 years of culinary culture and
go sans soy or fish sauce. (How else will madame
properly season her breakfast fish ball soup, should
she choose to order it this lovely morning?)

The quaint black 1940's telephone in the bar does not
always work. We had to telephone four times from the
bus station before we got through.

The menu is a laminated affair, a bit battered by use
and the heat. It is 15 pages full of italicized
specials and recommendations and specialities and
chef's-choices, with a black plastic spiral binding
which would do Kinko's proud. There are seven pages
devoted to alcoholic drinks, and the breakfast section
is at the bottom of page 4, just after the non-Halal
Meats section and before the gin-based drinks.

We love it here.

                   * * * * *

One night, in the bar, Scott is drinking with his
new-found drinking buddies: a 50-something Malaysian
businessman named David and a 40-something
ex-Pakistani named Ali. They are both here because
Chinese-owned hotels will serve food during the day
during Ramadan, and will serve alcohol round the
clock.

David and Ali: "So, my friend, where do you stay with
your lovely wife?" (the lovely wife was feeling
rather grimy and a bit cranky, but the gender ratio
there was unbalanced enough to make me lovely
anyways.)

Scott: "Right here, upstairs."

David and Ali: "Oh my. This will never do. This
place is a dump! You must go somewhere nicer."

Scott: "But we like it here."

David and Ali, looking at each other: "Yes, my
friend, we understand you very well. We like it here
too. Can we buy you a beer?"

It was a rather late evening.

(return to top)

December 16, 2000 - Muay-Thai, anyone?

Hello everybody!

We're on Ko Pha-Ngan, an island off of Thailand's
southeastern coast.

It's beautiful, tropical, and very cheap. Our beach
bungalow is $5.00 per night, has cold running water
only, and electricity from 6:30 pm until midnight!
What a bargain!

What have we seen?

Muay Thai Boxing! We went to see the boxing here one
night. The ring was an outdoor platform with folding
chairs set up three deep. There were five naked light
bulbs suspended overhead, and anytime somebody knocked
the wire they were hanging from, they'd knock about
crazily.

The contestants looked like they could have been in
the Mighty Midget Contest at the Olympics. Usually
small (5'4"), lithe (like a snake), well-greased (a la
John Travolta in Grease) and heavily muscled (think
Bruce Lee).

They wore a "safety can" (later identified as a jockey
cup). They wore brightly colored nylon baggy shorts
with fancy words written on them and glittery belts
around their waists, and when gearing up for
competition would pull them really up -- at times
almost to the armpit (giving us all a view of the
safety can.) They wore boxing gloves.

When they first got in the ring, they wore what looked
like a stringless badminton racket on their heads --
handle pointing down the back. To compete, they took
the racket off -- and they wore nothing else -- no
shoes, no mouth guards, no helmets, no nothing.

They bowed to the four sides of the crowd, walked
around and salaam'ed to the four posts of the ring.
Then they would strut like roosters, lunging and
stretching and rippling the muscles for all to see.

The matches were fast. Three three-minute rounds for
some, five for the really long ones. Rules? They can
punch each other. They can kick -- kidneys, heads,
elbows, legs. They can do the 'bear hug' where they
hold an opponent, tenderly like a lover, and knee him
repeatedly in the kidneys. (Well, they do say you
always hurt the ones you love...). If you can knock
your opponent down, or trip him so he falls, or get
him to fall out of the ring, that's really good.

And usually within a few rounds, somebody is so woozy
he can no longer stand well. If there's no clear
victor, the referees vote. And then the winner and
loser hug each other (if still both standing), or the
winner kneels tenderly over the loser and fans him
back to consciousness. All with a trademark Thai
smile.

It was really interesting -- fast, furious, better
than horse races or rooster-fighting.

I have a visiion of one of these small guys in a bar
somewhere, with a larger guy picking on him. The
small guy turns to the camera and says, "Listen,
Bubba, you don't really want to fight me. You
_really_ don't want to do this."

And the camera fades to black.

:)
Love,
C + S (on the beach!)

(return to top)

December 20, 2000 - Tales of Thai Massage: Meet Mr. Mak

Hello all.

Have you heard much about Thai massage?

Until recently, I didn't know much. What I did know:

* it was advertised in six languages at most tourist
destinations starting at 200 Baht (US $5.00) and going
up to several times that amount.

* the Massage Parlors were these dark little places
with windows masked by dirty pink lace curtains. If
you looked in the door, you could see folding chairs
with pink plastic seats-covers and bizarre stains on
the floor.

* there was one around the corner from our hotel in
Surat Thani. When Scott and I walked past, the girls
looked up from their little plastic table in the
street and called out to him. They ignored me. When
we walked briskly past, they went back to smoking
cigarettes and knitting. Yes, knitting. Lace,
actually. (possibly for more curtains?)

* the masseuses generally worked "evening hours" and
wore clothing which was less modest and less
comfortable than the American massage therapists I
know back home.

* all the travel guides contained serious warnings
about these places, usually using words like "latex,"
"never, ever," "police," "disease" and "death."

                        * * * * *

Fast forward a few days. We're now on the beach on a
little island, in front of our $5.00 bungalow.

A forty-something Thai man is walking about, shaking
the hand of every tourist and chanting, "Hell o how
are you to day." He wears battered flip-flops on big
wide feet. His hands were probably bear paws in a
previous life. The rest of him is compact and quite
muscular. One eye stares a little bit off to the
side. He has a huge smile and very bad teeth. He is
wearing dark blue pants and a white shirt. His shirt
says, in big block letters: MR. MAK. NUMBER ONE
MASSAGE.

I think, well, really now, he doesn't LOOK like a
prostitute.

All the warnings have been about getting a Thai
massage from a skimpily dressed young Thai woman in
the evening in a parlour.

There have been no warnings about getting a Thai
massage from a boringly-dressed old Thai man in the
afternoon on the beach.

I take the bait:
"How much?"
-- 200 Baht. $5.

"How long?"
-- 1 hour.

"When?"
-- Now. First Mr. Mak cigarette, you toilet, then
start.

I like him already. Anybody who encourages me to
pee-wee is automatically on my short-list.

                       * * * * *

We go out to the white-sand beach. I can hear the
turquoise water breaking just feet away. He lays out
a cotton sheet and weights the corners down with
stones. He hollows out a little space in the sand so
I can put my face straight down in the sand and still
breathe.

He kneels down next to me, puts his hands together in
a mini-prayer position, closes his eyes, and recites a
brief litany in Thai. And we begin.

The first 40 minutes are wonderful. He irons all the
tension out of my back muscles. He kneads my arms
with coconut oil until they feel smooth like vanilla
pudding. He plants one big foot after another on my
leg muscles and walks the cares of the world away. He
traces chakra points and karma points and touches on
the "energy release points" every good Eastern healer
knows.

                       * * * * *

And then we come to the uniquely Thai portion of the
massage.

I am face-down on the sand. I feel these immensely
strong hands grasp a foot and press it towards my
buttocks. Wow. What a stretch. I wonder if they
dislocate many knees over here.

But, part of me thinks, if any tourist is up to this,
it is I. I have been doing my yoga stretches! The
current stretch is sort of like "Boat Position."
Perhaps these eastern therapies are all similar -- you
know, yoga, Thai massage, tai chi. Yeah, sort of just
like all white people look alike. Yeah, that's the
ticket.

I can hear the sand crunching under his feet as he
puts his entire body weight into pressing on this one
skinny leg of mine.

Twenty minutes later, the gentle lap of the ocean
sounds positively unreal. We have been through
"Sitting Buddha Sniffs Her Feet Position." We have
done "Butterfly Woman Tailbone Twist Position." We
are now in "Trussed-Up Turkey Position."

What would my yoga teacher say now? Breathe, darling,
breathe.

And then it is all over, and I am sitting cross-legged
(Post-Massage Enlightened Position?) as he finishes it
off: scalp massage, ear rub, facial pressure points,
and light tapping on each ear.

I went back for another massage the next day.

                       * * * * *

Later on, Mr. Mak joined us for a beer.

It was not his first beer that evening.

He has a rather limited English vocabulary, and nary a
verb in it, but did manage to communicate the
following to us:

* He likes beer, especially Chang beer.

* He has several tattoos on his back, stomach, and
shoulders. They are dark and contain faded Thai
script, a large eagle, a circle, and other animals and
icons I could not easily identify.

* He was in Bangkok for several years

* He was a monk for several years also (possibly the
Bangkok years?)

* The Number One Monk has just died, and everybody is
very sad. They have to pick a new Number One Monk
now.

* He travelled to the resort by motorcycle, but he is
now too drunk to ride his motorbike home again,
considering the roads (unpaved, potholes the size of
Eskimo coolers and water tanks, unlit) and the
darkness.

* He really does like Chang Beer.

* He will see us tomorrow. If not tomorrow, next
year. Very good, very good. Hello goodbye. Yes,
very good.

                       * * * * *

And now, my friends, you have met our Number One
Massage, Mr. Mak. If you ever make it to Thailand, I
can most certainly recommend this type of Thai
massage. But do make sure your masseur has very bad
teeth and a huge smile.

It's worth it!

Love,
Carrie (now avidly cruising for a mainland massage
parlor)

+ Scott (who still has not tried Thai massage,
possibly because of a small language/culture barrier.
I think the standard massage places may not believe
your standard Western male tourist with short hair and
tons-o-Baht to spend wants only exactly the Mr. Mak
type of massage ...)

(return to top)

December 21, 2000 - Thai for Beginners

Hello beautifuls!

Anybody speak Thai? Lao, Chinese, Vietnamese, or any
other language which has tones in it? Well, if you're
a farang like Scott or me, learning a language where
the word meanings depend on your tone of voice is
quite a big undertaking. Much too big for, say, a
three-week sojourn into a country.

So I bought a phrasebook. "Quick and Easy Thai
Speaking - With only this one book in your hands, you
will be able to travel all over Thailand By Yourself."

Following are some of the English phrases which have
been rendered into Thai (for the Quick and Easy
Tourist):

                        * * * * *

General Purpose:
YES. NO. PERHAPS.

I SPEAK ONLY ENGLISH.
I AM FROM THE UNITED STATES.

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND.
I DO NOT KNOW.

REPEAT IT, PLEASE.

THAT MAN IS FOLLOWING ME EVERYWHERE.
PLEASE CALL ME A POLICEMAN.

YOU ARE MISTAKEN.
I DID NOT DO IT.
I DID NOT KNOW THE RULES.
WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?
DON'T PULL MY LEG.
YOU ARE JOKING.

                        * * * * *

On the Street:
WHAT IS THE MATTER HERE?
HELP! FIRE! THIEF!
LOOK OUT!
WHAT DO YOU WANT?

WHOSE FAULT IS IT?
IT IS NOT MY FAULT.
I DO NOT THINK SO.
NO, I DID NOT SAY ANYTHING.
I SAY, YOU ARE WRONG.

THEY ARE BOTHERING ME.
GO AWAY.
I WILL CALL A POLICEMAN.

                        * * * * *

At the Market:
WHAT DO YOU WISH?
IT IS NOT ALL RIGHT.
IT IS OLD.

                        * * * * *

At the Restaurant:
THIS IS NOT QUITE FRESH.
THIS DOES NOT SMELL VERY NICE.
I HAVE ALREADY PAID FOR THE SERVICE.
THERE IS A MISTAKE IN THE BILL.
CHECK IT, PLEASE.

                        * * * * *

At the Hotel:
I FORGOT TO BRING MY MONEY.
WHAT AM I TO DO?

                        * * * * *

Getting Around:
I WANT TO HIRE A CAR.
IS THERE A DRIVER?

DO NOT GO SO FAST.

WAIT FOR US DOWN THERE.

WHAT DID YOU SAY? IS THE GAS EXHAUSTED?
BY JOVE! WHAT SHALL WE DO?

                        * * * * *

At the Massage Parlor:

ONE MORE. ONCE MORE.
ENOUGH. TOO MUCH.

SLOWLY. SLOWER.
QUICKLY. FASTER.

MUST I WAIT LONG?
YOU SAID IT WOULD COST...

I WILL BE SEEING YOU.
WHAT IS YOUR NAME?
I AM HAPPY TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE.

VERY WELL. NOT VERY WELL.

I HAVE ENJOYED MYSELF VERY MUCH.
I HOPE TO SEE YOU AGAIN SOON.
COME TO SEE ME.
GIVE ME YOUR ADDRESS.

HOW MUCH MUST I PAY?
I DID NOT KNOW THAT I HAD TO PAY.

THIS IS ALL I HAVE.
YOU ARE ASKING TOO MUCH.
I WILL NOT GIVE YOU ANY MORE.

I SHALL CALL A POLICEMAN.
HE WILL SETTLE THE AFFAIR.

I AM SHORT OF MONEY.
DON'T WORRY, YOU WILL GET USED TO IT.

                        * * * * *

The names and addresses of 26 Massage Parlors in
Bangkok are listed in the back in alphabetical order.

(This compares with 15 Government offices and
ministries, 17 Naval Officer titles, 8 European
Restaurants, and 16 phrases for use at the dentist,
including "False Teeth," "You are hurting me" and "Can
you take it all out?")

Well, that's all for now, folks. I am learning the
Thai alphabet slowly, slowly, and am using parts of
the phrasebook to navigate around the
less-English-speaking parts of society.

Have a wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year!
(we'll get our new year in February, with the Chinese
New Year -- everybody knows the real celebration, with
all the dragons and such, ain't until then!)

Love,
   C (who paid $1.00 for the phrasebook)
and S (who thinks the book is priceless)

(return to top)

December 26, 2000 - Greetings from the Jungle Highlands of Thailand

Hello all! Wishing you a very merry Christmas and a
wonderfully Happy New Year!

We are currently in Chiang Dao, Thailand, near the
Burmese border. We spent Christmas with relatives --
my cousin Winnie, her Thai husband Brett, and their
three energetic and adorable kids.

I can give you a bit of a taste of life up here with
the story of how we got from Chiang Mai (big touristy
city) to cousins' house in Chiang Dao (small three-dog
town).

                   * * * * *

We took the evening bus up Friday night and got off in
a dirt parking lot about 7 pm. It was dark. There
was a 3-story building with the word "ALIEN" written
on it, a telephone booth, and your standard assortment
of shops, open and closed.

We called Winnie's phone a few times, but got no
answer. Finally, we sent them a quick email (ALIEN
turned out to be an Internet cafe, not a landing pad),
and decided to check into a local hotel for the night.

There was one other tourist across the street. I ran
over:

Me: "Hello! Do you speak English?"
Him (in heavy French accent): "A little."

Me: "Can you recommend a hotel around here?"
Him: "I can tell you the name, but I would not really
recommend it."

It was the only hotel in sight.

And so we found ourselves trying to check in to the
Pieng Dao Hotel. It is a three story shabby white
building with a forbidding 10-foot gate in the front
of it. It took twenty minutes of walking around,
shouting out, plus the efforts of an energetic
neighbor, to locate the landlady.

She was a somewhat cranky old woman, and she wanted
100 Baht ($2.50) for a double room on the ground floor
overlooking the courtyard.

                  * * * * *

It turned out to be only OK value for the money. The
bed was a bit hard, and the walls were a strange shade
of blue. The toilet was in a litle closet on the
other side of the courtyard. There was a padlock on
the toilet door, and I always took it inside with me
for fear somebody would lock me in. It was an
elephant-food ceramic thing in the ground, and to
flush it you dipped water out of a large water tub and
poured it into the bowl. The "shower" was a hose tied
up high on the wall above the toilet. It was, of
course, cold.

                  * * * * *

But the feature which really made us think that $2.50
was, if anything, a bit expensive for the room, was
the motorcycle taxi brigade. They are a bunch of
poker-faced twenty-something Thai men in flip-flops
and blue vests. For a few baht you can hire one: sit
on the back of his motorcycle, wrap your arms around
his waist, close your eyes, and recite a prayer to the
deity of your choice. He will whiz you to your
destination, bumping over dirt roads, steering between
dogs and children and large trucks laden with rice and
papayas, beeping all the way.

The taxi brigade is a quality show and they go to
great lengths to please their customers. For
starters, they are open 24 hours a day. When they are
"between clients," they park their mighty steeds
behing the Pieng Dao hotel, in the courtyard, safely
out of the street and about five feet from our
first-floor window. Any time one of them rustled up a
new client, he would hop on his cycle, rev it up
several times to show the client what a sturdy machine
had been hired, circle the courtyard, and then vroom
off into the night.

There were times the heavy wooden shutters in our room
vibrated.

                  * * * * *

The next morning we tried to call Winnie again, but
still no answer. We tried to send more email, but Mr.
Alien had gone out for the day and the Internet Cafe
was closed.

No problem. We would just be conspicuous and they
would come find us. We had breakfast, fed the fish in
the local river, hung out, made a few local friends,
and had lunch.

For lunch, we really splurged on an upscale place --
it had a concrete (not dirt) floor, blue and pink
plastic bowls, and a television. We asked for 2 bowls
of noodle soup and 2 Cokes. We got 2 lasagne-like
rice noodle soups with various pieces of stuff of
indeterminate animal origin (but they were yummy!).
Beverage was 2 bottles of lime/mint bright green
beverage. 50% batting average in restaurants is
actually pretty good, so we were rather pleased.

                  * * * * *

We had another problem. We were running out of
spendable money. In one sense, we were loaded with US
dollars, travellers' checks, and 500-baht notes. In
another sense, we couldn't spend it -- nobody here
changes US$, and the 500-baht note ($12.50) was too
large to spend. Mrs. Cranky Innkeeper wanted exactly
100 baht for the room. Mr. Noodle Soup couldn't
change a 500 baht bill for our $1.50 lunch tab.

It is the equivalent of running around Arkansas with
12 crisp new thousand-dollar bills. You are loaded,
but you cannot buy lunch. With our thousands and
thousands of baht between us, we were down to another
one day's worth of food and shelter before these two
Western tourists were effectively broke.

                  * * * * *

Scott manned the hotel room while I went out in search
of Winnie and change.

To search for Winnie on foot didn't seem as long a
shot as it sounds on email. This is a small town full
of medium-sized Asian people in flip-flops and wool
jackets. I am a tall fair-skinned creature in bizarre
western clothing, and, weirder still, I was seemingly
oblivious to the chill in the air. (At 75 degrees, it
felt rather civilized.) Small towns gossip, and I
felt sure if we were relatively conspicuous and
pleasant, eventually somebody would direct Winnie to
us.

There was even a Plan B for Winnie. If we didn't
connect today, tomorrow Scott and I would hang out at
at the bus stop parking lot all day, drinking beer and
playing checkers, smiling and waving at everybody we
saw. Very conspicuous indeed.

                  * * * * *

To search for change was harder. There were two
official-looking buildings, a medical clinic (closed)
and a guesthouse which looked much nicer than ours.

Guesthouse it was. The girl behind the front desk was
clean, well-polished, and pleasant. The sign said in
bright cheery red letters: "ENGLISH HERE SPOKEN."

Her: "Hello."
Me: "Hello. I am looking to get change. Do you know
if there's a bank in town?"
Her (small smile) : "Yes."

Me: "Great. Do you think it is open now?"
Her (grin): "Yes."

Me: "Excellent. Which way is it?"
Her (smile): "Yes."

Me (sinking feeling): "Left or right?"
Her (giggle): "Yes."

Me (bigger sinking feeling): "Can you sell me a
Cambodian Buddha, a Lao child, and a Burmese python,
cheap, fast, no questions asked, cash and carry?"

Her (big smile): "Yes."

                  * * * * *

Oh, dear. No so much English here spoken. But just
then, I heard a familiar voice: "Is that Carrie
Beam?"

It was Winnie, with husband and 3 beautiful kids in
tow.

And, sure enough, she had found me.

                  * * * * *

We went on to spend a wonderful Christmas with them!

Wishing you all a very happy holiday season!
Love,
Carrie and Scott
(who once were lost, but now are found...)

(return to top)

December 30, 2000 - Pythons in Thailand

Hello everybody! We're still in Thailand!

For those of you who missed the other email, Winnie is
my cousin and Brett is her Thai husband. They live in
northern Thailand now.

       * * * * *

There are those who build empires on grass (Genghis
Khan, circa 1200).

There are those who build cities on Rock and Roll (The
American Band "Starship," circa 1985).

Winnie and Brett are those who have built a house on a
hill.

They bought the land and hired a local construction
crew. The crew was composed of experienced, seasoned
carpenters. As experts, the crew regarded the
carefully drawn-up blueprints and design
specifications as suggestions rather than as orders.
Nevertheless, the house emerged: a one-story house
with a large kitchen, one bedroom, one well-trafficked
bathroom, and an upstairs loft where everybody can
sleep.

            * * * * *

They had a bunch of ducklings in the backyard. One
day, they went out to feed the ducklings and found
none. Instead,there was a rather large python with
suspicious lumps in its middle. The construction crew
got very excited and hung the python from a tree by
its neck.

Winnie and Brett went into town to buy a python bag,
because they didn't have any bags in the house large
enough to hold the python. When they returned, they
were too late -- the crew had killed the python.
(Somebody had python for dinner that night!)

And then the construction foreman's troubles began.
One of his eyes began to droop, wink, and generally
twitch. He had headaches. He could not work because
he could not focus properly. He sought Western
medical advice but it did not cure him.

Then he sought the advice of the local shaman, who
said the spirit of the python was not satisfied. The
foreman must make amends if he hoped to get well.

So the foreman put together a large offering to the
python spirit. It was a large platter and a large
bowl, full of the choicest foods, the nicest fruits,
and the most expensive things. The foreman was not a
rich man but he did not have a choice. The offering
was placed in the front yard of the house with proper
ceremony.

And the python spirit seems to have accepted the
offering. The foreman's eye has stopped bothering him
and he is able to continue working. The python spirit
has not returned, and neither have any other pythons.
And the large platter and bowl are still there,
somewhat covered by front yard's jungle. You can
still see them today.

                          * * * * *

There is another story of a local farming couple who
ran into a python. They were out one day in their
fields and had their 3-year-old baby up on a platform,
sleeping in the shade. They went over to check on the
baby and found a medium-sized python had gotten a hold
of one of the baby's legs and swallowed it entirely.
The python was stuck at the crotch. He couldn't get
the other leg into his mouth, nor could he get the
first leg out of his mouth.

The baby was still asleep.

The parents raised a huge ruckus and finally the
python was killed and the baby's leg was extricated.

They say if the python had used proper python
technique and begun at the other end of the baby, it
would have been quite a different story. Pythons work
fast. There would have been one less baby and one fat
python.

                          * * * * *
Love,
C + S (very glad no pythons in California!)

(return to top)

December 30, 2000 - Booze and Sex (Rated R - 18 years old and up only!)

Everywhere we have travelled, even in the Muslim
countries, there is booze.

In Thailand there is Thai whiskey, Singa beer, and a
variety of fermented rice products.

There is also Lao Lao, or Laotian moonshine, which is
brewed in the hills of Laos and other out-of-the-way
places. These are the same types of out-of-the-way
places where people smuggle cars to China, cultivate
15-foot-long Burmese pythons as tourist attractions,
or grow opium poppies.

Lao Lao is a clear liquid. It comes in old Coke
bottles or other recycled containers, often with a bit
of waxed paper held over the top with a rubber band.
It is never commercially labelled. If you are really
lucky someone will write "Lao Lao" on the bottle with
a marker, but unless you can read Thai or Lao, you
don't really know what that says, either.

In this part of the world, it is not wise to eat food
which comes in unsanitary containers or has sat in the
sun all day; you will get sick. There is no such
worry with Lao Lao. It is such a high proof that it
will kill any beasties which may have been in the Coke
bottle or on the fingers of the person who put the
rubber band on it. And if you drink any quantity of
it, you will get quite ill anyways.

Winnie and Brett had a bottle of this stuff at home.
Eager to try to local stuff, Scott and I begged first
a sniff, then a swallow or two.

Winnie offered, "You know, Lao Lao has other uses.
You gather the leaves of one plant from the jungle,
and mix it together with the fruit of another plant,
and put in some Lao Lao. Mix it all thoroughly and
apply it to your scalp and hair. Leave it in for a
certain length of time. It is a local cure for lice."

* * * * *

Everywhere we have travelled also, even in Muslim
countries, there is also a strong interest in sex.
After all, one cannot overcome 2 billion years of
evolution with 2,000 years of civilization.

Winnie told us the following story. She and Brett
were up in Laos, a very poor country neighboring
Thailand. They went to a sporting event between the
Thais and the Laos, and there was a half-time show.
Each side had a certain amount of time to fill up.

The Thai team put on a grand old show with flash,
grandeur, music, and the works. It was very
impressive. When their time was ended, everybody
wanted to see if the Lao side could match it.

The Lao team did not have the money to put on much of
a halftime show. No marching bands or music; they had
to settle for two mascots.

The Lao team had Mascot #1 dress up as a penis. An
erect one. Mascot #2 dressed up as a vagina. The
costume had big red flapping lips.

During the Laotian halftime show, Mascot #1 chased
Mascot #2 all around the field to the great amusement
of the crowd.

And, of course, when the allotted time was up, #1
caught #2. Laos is, after all, an area of the world
where people routinely have 8 kids.

* * * * *

Love,
C + S (who are thinking this might put the New
Year's Day football halftime shows in a different light...)

(return to top)

January 2, 2001 - Missing the bus...or how not to take a leak.

Cub reporter Scott Wynter, Sukhothai, Thailand

Happy new year, everyone....

It seem Carrie likes to write about all the nice and
happy things that happen on our trip...and I like the
evil and nasty things...well...this is my tale...

Early new years day, we decided to take the "Express
Buss" from Chiang Rai to Sukhothai. We managed to get
a seat (in the back) and prepared for the 7 hour trip.
The bus wasn't great, but considering it was only
costing us $US 3.50...total bang for buck here in
Thailand. The journey started uneventful, everyone
once in a while we stopped to pick up people. After
several hours, all the seats were taken, but still, we
will stop to pick up more people. Soon we were packed
(people standing in the alley, sitting on each others
lap) and still we were picking up people. No big
deal, we managed to keep our seat and had yet to have
anyone sit on us. I started to get a feeling. The
feeling was that the big cup of tea that I had for
breakfast was a bad idea. The bus would stop, true,
but just long enough to cram a couple of more people
on (more of a roll than a stop). Around 11:00, my
back teeth were afloat. I knew that if I had to go,
Carrie must be about dying. We decided early in the
trip not to discuss it, because it was too painful.
At 12:30, we rolled into a large bus stop, where many
of our fellow sardines got off the bus. I thought,
"Praise the gods" and told Carrie to "Go for it,
quick". With hardly a look back she sprinted for the
toilet. I looked around at some of my fellow
passengers, and managed to catch this solders eye.
"How many minutes will we be here, please"...he
stopped and thought, and then held up five fingers. I
took that as I sign, and I too sprinted to the toilet.
It was wonderful, very much worth the 8 cents I had
to pay to get in. Carrie and I exited the same time,
looks of serene buddhas on our faces. We then did a
quick walk back to the bus, calm and collected, happy
as Thai's with nuclear hot food. This feeling was not
to last long. We arrived at our bus stall, no more
than 3 minutes after we left. Something was missing,
our bus! We froze, we stared, we did not believe it.
We ran around the bus station and the truth sank it,
the bus was gone and we had been left behind. As we
realized our backpacks were still on the bus, despair
started to raise its ugly head. Then a lady from the
bus next to the empty stop ours once occupied came
over to us. "Where you go?" "Sukhothai" "Get on this
bus, we go to Sukhotai" "We catch our bus?"
"Errr...yes". We got on the bus and tried to predict
the future. This bus was much older, and we doubted
it's ability to actually make the rest of the trip.
And if we made it, being reunited with our bags seemed
at best a major hassle. After 5 minutes of bouncing
down the road the bus stopped and the driver came back
towards us. "This can only mean trouble" thought I,
but faked a smile. "Your bus" he announced and
pointed "it wait there". We looked, we saw the bus.
It was across the road at a lunch stand. We said a
million thank you's and khawp khun's and sprinted
across the road. It was really our bus, and many of
the passengers seem quite relieved to see us. We were
told later that we didn't have much to worry about, as
long as we caught the other bus. Several passengers
noticed we were missing, and told the other bus to
look for us. Here in the land of smiles, we seem to
have a million of protecting angles looking after us.

Scott

(return to top)

January 4, 2001 - Life in Chiang Dao

Hello beautifuls!

As you know, we spent Christmas in Thailand with my
American-born cousin, her Thai husband, and their
three (energetic, excited, and talkative) kids.

What is it like to live in Chiang Dao? The
following
may be able to give you some glimpses of life.

                      * * * * *

There are two ways to live in Chiang Dao. You can
either 1) be born there, or 2) you can go there.
For all of you who missed option #1, it is not too late.

Here's how to get there.

1. Fly to Bangkok, Thailand. If possible, be like
Bill Clinton and do not inhale.

2. Take a bus/train 12 hours north-north-west to
Chiang Mai. Do not drink tap water and bring own
TP.

3. Stop at the large temple in Chiang Mai, turn a
little bit, and head straight for the Burmese
border.
You can get a 90-minute bus ride for 75 cents per
person, no rest stops.

4. Stop about 30 miles short of the border
checkpoint. If you see a dirt parking lot with a
large "ALIEN" sign over it, you have reached Chiang
Dao.

5. Congratulations. You are no longer in search of
tourist attractions. You are the tourist attraction.
Say hello and smile to everybody you meet.

                      * * * * *

Winnie and Brett recently built a house in Chiang
Dao.
It is a beautiful home, with windows to let in the
sunlight and an open floor plan. In the morning
there
are mists and bird songs. In the afternoon there is
a
priceless view of a large limestone mountain. In
the
evening there are a thousand bright stars in the
dark
sky above and a thousand insect songs in the soft
darkness outside.

There is a gas stove and an avocado-colored fridge
with magnets on it. There is a desk with a computer
in a corner, and a Christmas tree in the living
room.
The house has Harry Potter books, Pokemon artifacts,
and sparkly children who wake up at 6 am with
gleeful
shouts of "It's CHRISTMAS!!!"

But it is not in Kansas anymore. For starters, if
you
look out a window, you will see beautiful, green,
foamy, luxuriant jungle in all directions. Outside
the front door is a papaya tree which produces
fruits
bigger than footballs for breakfast. There is
electricity only when they run the generator, so
cruising the Internet and watching cartoons are out
as
general-purpose hobbies. There is cold running
water
from a tank, but for a warm bath you need to heat up
a
kettle on the gas stove (after turning the gas
nozzle
from the propane tank "on".)

Oh, yes, and the neighbors all speak Thai.

                       * * * * *

A smattering of books from around the house:

* 365 Ways to Cook Tofu
* Civil Engineering Handbook (large and heavy)

* Introduction to Thai
* Living Dharma

* The Transformed Mind by His Holiness the Dalai
Lama
* The Joy Luck Club

* Travels on the Mekong
* Encyclopedia of Aviation

* The Flower and Garden Book
* Children's Christmas Storybook

* When There Is No Doctor (not for the squeamish)
* and our personal favorite, The Survival Book
(which
advises against liaisons with Tuareg Desert Nomad
women if you find yourself suddenly lost in the
Sahara.)

Love,
C + S (who particularly enjoyed the Survival Book!)

(return to top)

January 4, 2001 - Out of the Mouths of Babes

Winnie and Brett have 3 beautiful children. Reed is
8; Lydia is 6, and Sara is 2. I had the most
enjoyable conversations with each of them, as
recounted below.

              * * * * *

REED. Reed is 8 years old. He has a very short
buzz-cut hair and will scratch his head very
seriously
when deep in thought. I first met Reed in the
guesthouse lobby where Winnie found me. I knew the
kids spoke Thai at school and English at home, but I
wasn't really sure how much English he would speak
to me.

I was telling Winnie that I wasn't worried about not
being able to telephone her; that we just figured
we'd be conspicuous in town and they would find us.

Reed, incredulous: "Did you REALLY think that would
work?"
Me: "Reed, do I look like anyone else around here?"

Reed: "Well," scratching head deep in thought, "No,
I guess not. Not really." Looks me up and down.
"Well, now that I think about it, probably not.
No."

He has, of course, a perfect command of English and
the broadest Midwestern accent I have heard this
side
of the International Date Line.

           * * * * *

LYDIA. Lydia is 6 years old and has huge dark eyes.

She loves girly things -- barettes, hair, jewelry,
makeup. She was sitting on my lap in the back of
the
car, fiddling with my fingers.

Lydia: "What is this?"
Me: "It's my wedding ring."

Lydia: "WHAT? You mean you're still wearing that
old
thing???"

           * * * * *

SARA. Sara is 2 1/2 years old. She has a huge
smile
and when she gets excited her whole body wriggles
like
a puppy's. She is just beginning to speak. One
day,
I was carrying Sara through the garden as we
followed
Reed and Lydia across a small stream to visit the
neighbors. We were moving pretty fast and Sara was
holding on to me pretty tightly.

Me: "Sara, you're holding on just like a little
monkey."
Sara: "No. Not monkey."

Me: "Yes, you're a little monkey."
Sara: "No. I tiger."

And she was right. She was born in April 1998,
which
is the Year of the Tiger.

           * * * * *

Love,
C (year of the dog)
and S (very impressive, year of the dragon)

(return to top)

January 10, 2001 - The Snake Farm (not for the squeamish!)

Hello my lovelies!

One of the less-well-travelled tourist attractions in
Bangkok is the Queen Mother's Red Cross Anti-Venom
Factory, aka the Snake Farm. It is a place where all
sorts of venomous critters live an utterly relaxing,
pampered, sun-drenched life for 23 hours each day.
The last hour is, figuratively speaking, the hour in
which the viper must pay the piper.

Each snake earns his keep during the Snake Show. Of
course, we had to go see it.

* * * * *

Just before waltzing in to the Snake Farm, we stopped
for lunch and had yet more Pad Thai, fried noodles,
from yet another street vendor. Scott really liked
this batch. I thought it looked rather orange and
tasted salty, a bit fishy even, but could see nothing
amiss. Then I got a mouthful of crunch - not
dirt-type crunch, or even pepper-type crunch, but
animal-product-type crunch. The noodles were FULL of
baby shrimp! Eyes, tails, skeletons and all. Ugh. I
crunched through that last mouthful and put down my
chopsticks. The crunchies were stuck in my teeth and
I tried to wash that horrid popcorn-at-the-movies feel
away with a chrysanthemum-flavored beverage. Lunch
was over for me. Scott ate his entire plateful and
really liked it. (But then again, he likes baby squid
too.)

* * * * *

On to the Snake Farm.

The ticket man: "140 baht, 2 tickets. Welcome!
Hurry! Very poisonous snake! Many! Snake show begin
now!"

There was a small seating area and we slid into the
back row just in time.

There was a "snake house" area behind the show area,
and I must say I did think it was a proper place to
keep such reptiles. First there was a wall, about
waist-high, presumably to keep the humans out. Then
there was a moat, about a foot across and several
inches deep. Then there was the island, a semicircle
about 15 feet across, with a few very well-pruned
bushes growing on it. Then there were the snake
houses - little terra-cotta igloos the size and shape
of upside-down laundry baskets, except with four holes
instead of the Eskimo's one. Finally, there were the
snakes. Each one was 3-4 feet long, usually asleep in
the sun or in the snake-house. And there were,
conservatively, twenty of them.

* * * *

Two diamond-back snakes stretched out side by side in
the sun.

Bobby Fang: "Yeah, man, I'm bad, I'm sooooo bad! Ya
gotta be one of the bad boys of the jungle to make it
here. I mean, ya gotta be a really perilous serpent.
Just like me."

Elvis: "You know what that stupid announcer says
every single day - I'm here 'cuz I'm the BEST! Forget
the tiger, man, I'm the King around here. I gots the
candy everybody wants, I fly like a butterfly, I sting
like Muhammad Ali, that sort of stuff. Why, my old
man could take out an elephant in one bite."

Bobby Fang: "Only one elephant? My old man took out
a whole herd of . Hey, Elvis? . Elvis?
Ellllll-visssss? Where'd he go? Where'd he go?"

        * * * * *

The snake handler dropped a little drawbridge across
the moat and strode in amongst the sleeping vipers.
He fished one fat fellow up by the tail and carried
him out to the show area.

Announcer: "This fellow, very poisonous snake. King
Cobra. One bite from snake, kill human, kill elephant
maybe. Very dangerous."

The snake handler was wearing rubber boots and did
carry a snake hook, but otherwise he was bare: no
gloves, no glasses, not even long sleeves. (He didn't
*look* particularly depressed or suicidal, I thought,
but to handle a snake like that, bare-handed - you
just never know.)

Announcer: "You like see King Cobra hood? We make
him mad! Just for you!" And the snake handler got on
his knees in front of the cobra. It reared up and
flattened up its hood.

Elvis: "Holy S**T! It's happened again! I was just
minding my own business in the sun and then it got me
by the tail! Where am I??? Aaaaargh! The Boot
Monster is coming at me again! It's going to eat
me!!!!! It's huge! Aaaaaargh!!!! It's the end of the
world!!!! Get away you brute! Stay back or I'll bite
you!!!! Aaaaaargh!!!"

The crowd went wild, straining to get the best picture
of the snake. The cobra was striking and spitting at
the snake handler, who was dancing back out of the
way. This went on for a few minutes.

    * * * * *

Elvis: "Wow. It's really nice and warm here, and I'm
getting tired and sleepy. And the Boot Monster hasn't
eaten me yet . maybe he's not hungry today . time for
my afternoon nap ."

    * * * * *

Announcer: "You like see milk for venom? We get
venom from snake for you!" And the snake handler had
his hands full again: his right hand had the cobra by
the neck, and the left hand held a little petri dish
of glass to collect the venom.

Elvis: "Aaaargh! Nap was BAD IDEA!!!! It's the Hand
Monster!!!! It's got me by the neck! It's going to
crush me!!!! Oh no!!!! Oh my, not the Glass Torture!
The Big Glass Thing is going to eat me headfirst!!!!
Stay back or I'll bite you! Stay back, stay back.last
warning.I'm going to bite you with a LOT of venom!!!
OUCH! That was HARD and HURT MY TEETH!   Hey Big
Glass Thing - you ain't dying, ain't even moving away,
how dumb can you be??? You're not dead yet but I'm
gonna fix that, I'm going to bite you again!!!!
OUCH!!!! This is NO FUN! Ummmmm.wait a sec..uh-oh, I
have no more venom today. Oh s**t. Time to play
dead. Maybe the Big Glass Thing won't eat me if it
thinks I'm dead."

Announcer: "Looky here! Plenty venom from most
deadly snake!" The crowd applauded as the announcer
showed off the few drops of clear liquid in the petri
dish. The snake handler took the limp king cobra back
to Snake Island.

* * * * *

Bobby Fang: "Hey man! Where'd you go? What
happened?"

Elvis: "Oh, duuuude, you would NOT believe it if I
told you. I am the best, the biggest, the baddest one
of all. First I scared off the Boot Monster. Then I
escaped the Hand Monster. Then I survived the assault
of the Big Glass Thing. Worse than last week, soooo
much worse than last week's Big Glass Thing, man, I
had to bite this Big Glass Thing a thousand times
before it finally went away. But I showed him who's
boss. Yeah, that's right. Yeah, man, I'm the king
and I'm hungry too!"

Bobby Fang: "You're in luck. It's lunchtime again."

* * * *

Announcer: "You like watch snake eat? Feed baby
mice! Over in snake house!" And the snake handler
dumped approximately fifty baby white mice in the
middle of the island. He shook the final mousie out
of the box, and walked quickly out of the enclosure,
picking up the drawbridge behind him and slamming the
door shut.

Within a few minutes, the snakes were unfolding from
trees, slithering out of the moat, sliding out of the
igloos, tasting the air and gliding over to pick up a
mouse or five. The venom worked quickly, impairing
the mice in 30 seconds and completely immobilizing
them within 60 seconds of a strike.

Despite his donation to the Red Cross, the king cobra
had plenty of venom left and got a rather hearty
lunch.

* * * *

Elvis: "White mouse again? Yum! The baby ones too,
man, what a delicacy! Three in a row for me! Heh heh
heh. You know, though, that tall American lady
standing in the corner, she ain't looking so happy
with me. Been giving me the evil eye all meal long.
Whaddaya think, something wrong with my table manners
or something?"

Bobby Fang: "Nah, she's just jealous. I overheard
her talking to her husband earlier, before that Boot
Monster attacked you. I bet she also wanted a bunch
of live juicy baby mice for lunch, but all she got was
a bunch of dead crunchy baby shrimp."

* * * *

Love,
C (glad we don't have a pet cobra at home)
+ S (who thinks it might be kind of cool.)

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January 10, 2001 - Fish Ball Soup: Not Just for Breakfast Anymore

Hello all!

It's time to talk about The Real Thing: The Food.

The Brochure. If you see these shiny brochures with
the Thai government's "Amazing Thailand" tourism
advertising campaign, you always see a happy Western
couple eating gently spiced curry. Our happy couple
is clean, unrumpled, and well-dressed, and they sit at
a table with a white tablecloth, spoon-fork-knife
combo, and water glasses. There are fresh flowers at
the table, and possibly a Thai dancing troupe in the
background. You may be surprised to hear this, but
this is not how Scott and I eat the majority of our
meals. We eat at the Night Market.
* * * *

The Night Market. The Night Market is a capitalistic
frenzy of rice fryers, Pokemon traders, dead chicken
choppers, sandal sellers, hungry-n-hopeful feral dogs,
sweet pork rind soup mixers, unlicensed CD-ROM
purveyors, squid dryers, personal-space invaders,
money changers, noodle cookers, embroidery hawkers,
Avon ladies, fish grillers, wide-eyed Western
tourists, and of course everybody who's anybody in
town.

* * * *
The Cart: Each vendor has a (very) little "space."
The space is just big enough for a four-wheeled cart
the size of a computer desk. Off to one side is the
propane tank, and balanced on top of it is the Gas
Ring, which in turn holds The Wok, The Pot of Boiling
Oil, The Grill of Many Hot Coals, or some other
similar Inferno-on-Wheels. (This is the "do not
touch" side of the cart, and one always needs to be
wary, for one cart's "front and center" zone may well
be another cart's "do not touch" zone.)

* * * *
The Goods. In the front of the cart are The Goods. A
fruit vendor will have beautiful arrangements of
bananas, pineapples, strawberries, and durians. A
soup vendor will have appetizing arrays of green
onions, pork balls, crispy fried pork rinds, chicken
wings, and noodles. A Pad Thai (fried noodle) vendor
will showcase the fresh noodles, the brown eggs (which
probably have been outdoors all day but at any rate
were fresh this morning), the green onions, the chilis
. A Chicken Vendor will have the chickens hanging up
for inspection - mostly intact, very dead, eyes and
beaks all present, skin always meticulously plucked
and cooked varying shades of golden brown. The Pork
Purveyor will have hamhocks au naturel, hooves still
on, fried pig ears, and sometimes if you're really
lucky, the snout. And so on and so forth.

* * * *
The Slogans: We have put together the following food
slogans from the Night Market, loosely based upon
advertising jingles:

* * * *
Double your pleasure, double your fun
Double good, double fresh, octopus gum!

* * * *
Fish ball soup, not just for breakfast anymore.
* * * *

Salty soy beverage with glutinous tapioca floaties:
it does a body good.
* * * *

How the Grinch Stole Christmas - of course Jim Carrey
speaks Thai! (as do Charlie's Angels)
* * * *

Every meal a wholistic meal - includes the whole
chicken: head, feet, bones, and (for a small extra
charge) the liver too!
* * * *

Healthy eating with 5-a-day: boiled lettuce,
stir-fried tomatoes, roasted onions, raw red-hot chili
peppers, and flame-broiled seaweed products.
* * * *

Fish heads, fish heads, roly poly fish heads
Fish heads, fish heads, eat them up, yum
In the morning, laughing happy fish heads
In the evening floating in my soup!
Fish heads, fish heads, roly poly fish heads
Fish heads, fish heads, eat them up, yum
(perfection already from Nickolodeon - no additions
needed.)

* * * *

Love,
C + S (who are somehow managing to feed ourselves
despite the amazing variety of new and unusual foods!)

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January 13, 2001 - Southeast Asian Quiz - Viva La Buddha!

Hello all.

It's the New Year (2001, or 2544 if you measure like
they do here in Thailand...) ... and time for another
quiz!

1. In Malaysia, some new mothers have trouble nursing
their newborns because mom is too thin. The newspaper
recommends each mom weighs herself after delivery and
makes sure she is hefty enough to nurse. Her
post-delivery weight should be at least how much more
than pre-baby weight?

A. 10 pounds
B. 20 pounds
C. 30 pounds
D. 40 pounds

                   * * * * *

2. In Cambodia in the 1970's, the Khmer Rouge
conducted a genocidal campaign which killed more than
20% of the nation. A Phnom Penh businessman who lost
both parents in the purges is out to get revenge upon
Pol Pot and the others. He is doing this by;

A. Waging guerilla warfare against surviving members
of their families from bases just inside the Thai
border.

B. Marketing a series of porcelain toilets with a
picture of Pol Pot on the inside of the bowl. Every
time the owner feels the urge to purge, it can be
strategically aimed at the face of the despot.

C. Conducting animist ceremonies with frog intestine,
powdered elephant horn, and hairs from the corpses of
the despot designed to ensure that Pol Pot will be
inauspiciously reincarnated.

D. Running for political office on the platform that
the remaining members of the Khmer Rouge must be
apprehended and tried according to the United Nations
War Crimes standard.

                   * * * * *

3. Thailand has long been known for political
"irregularities." Which of the following happened in
the latest election?

A. A candidate was disqualified for trading money for
votes

B. A candidate was disqualified for trading new
vehicles for votes

C. A member of the committee which was investigating
candidates for corruption was disqualified. This
comittee member was found to have large holdings in
the companies owned by the political candidate which
he had "forgotten" to disclose on the
conflict-of-interest form.

D. A newspaper ran an interview with several leading
campaign members who told the population where and
when their parties would be buying votes. They
stressed it would not be done the night before the
election (too risky; might get caught) but rather in
the week preceding the election.

E. All of it -- it's Thailand!

                   * * * * *

4. If you see a Buddhist monk on the bus one hot
afternoon, you should

A. Ignore him -- he's not allowed to speak to
foreigners

B. Buy him a soft drink -- he's not allowed to carry
money and may be thirsty

D. Buy him a Thai hot dog and a soft drink -- he may
be hungry too

C. Sit so your feet are pointing towards him -- it's
a great compliment

                   * * * * *

5. You are in a nicer bathroom in SE Asia. In
addition to the throne, there is a spray-squirter
(like on your mother's kitchen sink) and a large
dishpan full of water with a plastic measuring cup
floating in it. These are to:

A. Amuse yourself while you do your other business --
there's a rubber duckie in there too!

B. Refresh yourself with a cool drink of water while
you do your business

C. Wash your feet while you do your business

D. Wash your nether regions after you have done your
business

E. Any of the above -- it's Thailand!

BONUS QUESTION. How is your Southeastern Asian
History? Can you put the following events in (rough)
chronological order?

Columbus to America
birth of Mohammed
Mongol empire and invasions
Vietnam independent from China after 1000 years of
   Chinese domination
China's Last Emperor Pu Yi abdicates
William the Conqueror
French colonize Indochina
Marco Polo travels from Italy to China
China's Cultural Revolution
birth of Christ
War of the Roses
Portuguese take Malaka and control Spice Islands
Angkor Wat Khmer empire
Reign of Louis XIV
Christian Crusades
Sacking of Thai capital of Ayuthaya by Burmese
birth of the Buddha
British Raj in India begins with Battle of Plassey at
   Calcutta
British Raj in India ends with Indian Independence
French leave Indochina after Dien Bien Phu

ANSWERS

1 - A
2 - B. They're best-sellers, too!
3 - E
4 - B. In general, they love to talk and speak better
English than your Thai-on-the-street. To point one's
feet at somebody is a grave insult, and monks don't
eat after noon (and many are vegetarian). So Coke is
it!
5 - A, C, or D. Most Thais would choose option D.
Under no circumstances should you drink out of any of
those containers. Not even with a very strong belief
in reincarnation.

BONUS question --

Approx 543 BC birth of Buddha
0 AD birth of Christ
621 AD birth of Mohammed
800-1200 - Angkor Wat Khmer empire
906 AD Vietnam independent from China after 1000 years
of Chinese domination
1066 - William the Conqueror
1000-1200 AD Christian Crusades
1260's and 1270's - Mongol empire and invasions
1260's 1270's - Marco Polo travels from Italy to China
1470's and 1480's -- War of the Roses
1492 -- Columbus to America
1511 -- Portuguese take Malaka and control Spice
Islands
1643 - 1715 -- Reign of Louis XIV
1757 -- British Raj in India begins with Battle of
Plassey at Calcutta
1767 - Sacking of Thai capital of Ayuthaya by Burmese
1860's -- French colonize Indochina
1912 - China's Last Emperor Pu Yi abdicates
1947 -- British Raj in India ends with Indian
Independence
1954 - Dien Bien Phu French leave Indochina
1966-1976 - China's Cultural Revolution

Whew!

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