November 10, 2004
Last Night in Seattle
I first met Ken Graves when I was 17. We met on the racquetball courts at Humboldt State University in Arcata, California. We played racquetball. It was good. This was the beginning of a friendship that has lasted nearly 20 years.
One concurring theme in our friendship has been this idea of the quest. We were always heading out in search of something, anything, that could add more ritual and religious meaning to our lives. At one point we even created our own deity, called Lao. This allowed us to have faith in something, and add a primitive, esoteric meaning to our junkets. The forests of Arcata, the streets of San Francisco, the alpine country of Washington's Cascades, we always seemed to bring this "Looking for Lao" concept into our journeys.
So here we are again. We haven't been on the road in many years. We have both settled into our lives a bit. But starting tomorrow, we will re-ignite the faith and embark on another quest for Lao, deep in the jungles of South East Asia.
Okay, so maybe we'll just sit around and drink rum out of hollowed-out pineapples, but we can certainly keep our eyes open. Lao is still out there somewhere, maybe this time we'll catch more than a glimpse.
Note: Unlike a typical blog, this will be organized in ascending order. Because unlike a blog, this will have both a beginning and an end.
Midnight and the long awaited point of no return
When I turned nineteen I left sunny San Diego for the Pacific Northwest and never looked back. Soon after settling in a little college town I made friends with Geoff. I first saw him in the basement of McDonald's, sleeping in the standing position with the aid of a broom handle. We didn't speak, although I did note that, he too wore his monkeyshit brown polyester uniform buttoned all the way up. I remember thinking how happy this lad looked, dreaming and standing idle while a steady stream of drool made its leisurely way down his chin and collar. A few weeks later we happened upon each other at the college raquetball courts and engaged in a few rounds of cut throat. I won two out of three... The result of our meeting was the establishment of the singularly most formative and rewarding friendship of my life. A deep hunger for exploration and a mutual disdain for the commonplace was the hallmark of our endeavors together. "Danger" was our watchword and "adventure", physical, psycological and spiritual, became our primary objective. Not enough space here to catalogue the all successes and failures inherent in this pursuit of "illumination", suffice it to say we had more than our share of both.
20 years later... we stand on the precipice of a new adventure. In less than ten hours I will take flight from my all too familiar life and embark on an open ended free-for-all of sheer sensory overload. What could possibly be more rewarding for experience junkies such as we? I know not...
For those who find the trappings of a traditional religious experience too constricting and potentially fatal, following the relentless and dogmatic directives of control-freak deities run amok to be soul suicide, and the indignities of the daily grind to be downright debasing , "Looking for Lao" is our only option. We will search high. We will search low.
And all the while the "searching" itself will be our highest goal. In this you have our solemn word...
NOTE:
I didn't get innoculated against dengue fever or typhoid...
I don't have an itinerary...
I didn't bother to check the travel advisories...
But I've got a secret weapon....
- My best friend speaks Thai like a mother grabber!
So hold onto your helmets ladies, it looks like wev'e got a live one!
November 14, 2004
Houston, we have a problem
So we made it. Found the only bar open at 1AM in the dusty little town of Ayutthaya and set up shop. They happened to have a bottle of Jameson and we put a sizeable dent in the mother. They gave us the only room available and it was a bed, a fan and no bathroom. We snuck out early and found better digs down the road.
Then a reunion with Sa and Dave and Thad and Ong and all the rest of the old gang over cold beer at Ong's. The place hasn't changed a bit.
The next day we made merit at my favorite Thai temple and toured the ruins of Ayutthaya. And then things turned a bit foggy. Not for me, but for Mr. Graves. I'll let him fill you in on the details, becasue I wasn't even there. Right now he's upstairs in a hotel room in downtown Bangkok with an ice-pack on his head doing a lot of heavy breathing. He does not look well.
So I'm off to meet Thad across town, and I sadly have to leave my little buddy alone for the evening. Two days into the trip and Gravy has the mother of all hangovers.
More to come...
November 29, 2004
Heart of Darkness: A Failed Travel Blog
I'm gonna let Ken provide you with the color-commentary on just how this adventure played out. It took a wrong turn the night he decided to stay out all night drinking with the locals of Ayutthaya.
His sickness started that next morning and followed him to Bangkok. Out of sheer will he woke up and managed to find Thad and I in a bar off Sukhumvit and joined us in drinking a fair amount of Thai whiskey.
When we arrived in the south the next night the first signs of delirium and high fever began to show. We still managed to take a longtail boat to to a remote beach and I convinced Ken that he could live without air conditioning.
We set up shop in a small cluster of bungalows and stayed put for a while. It was idyllic. While Ken stayed in his bungalow sweating and dying I ate grilled sea bass on the beach and drank a few beers. I assumed he would get better and we could soon resume the adventure.
By the next night I joined Ken in a nice bout of the Hong Kong flu myself. I awoke at 2 am in a bizarre delirium hearing voices and having to make a decision between puking in the toilet and crapping on the floor or the complete opposite. In the end I think I made the right decision. I spent the next twelve hours staring at the ceiling fan through my mosquito net sweating and talking to myself as the blades contined to thump thump thump into my skull.
So this is how this adventure started. We both hit the very bottom and stayed there for quite some time. We finally took a boat to Phuket and found a doctor. She gave us shots in the ass for two days and bags of little pills. We sat in our rooms for several more days.
In the end, we made it back to Bangkok and managed to salvage the whole thing. We had some really great times in that city. But our spirit was a bit broken. We couldn't bring ourselves to write about much and this whole travel blog died in the water. Maybe next time.
I'll let Ken wrap this whole thing up for you, I can guarantee that the journey was much more prolific for him. He fell to the bottom and managed to rise above it all in end. There were pockets of enlightenment throughout it all, but in the end Lao was highly elusive. Even a bit of an ass if I do say so myself.
the ayutthaya gang
arrived at bankok airport at 11 pm, taxi to ayutthaya, then straight to Moon Cafe for drinks at some unexpected repartee. I had been told many a yarn about this local, all fall short of the mark. Mr. Chai sits at the end of the bar with his entourage, eying me and making me nervous for a few minutes...
settled in after a few beers and made a some new friends. All accommodations save one were booked for the night so we took the only available space and, initially, were glad for it. After 22 hrs of flights and layovers, taxis and such, a bed was highly prized... only that was the extent of it.. a bed. Oh yeah, there was a fan too. No table, no chair, nary a nail to hang my stetson from. Woke from fitful rest at 7- 7:30 to street noise., motorcycles, tuk tuks. No chance of sleep so we move to Wingfah Hotel and real rooms. Here there are quiet gardens filled with gentle sounds of water, kittens hunt birds and frogs unsuccessfully in the yard. It's off the street just far enough for comfort and real calm like. Caught my first glimpse of the deity but he vanished behind a cloud of grey smoke issuing from the tailpipe of a tuk tuk. I took this as an omen and followed the trail through dusty streets to my first taste of authentic Thai food. The eatery we arrived at seemed no different than the many many others we passed, but this is where the smoke ended, so here we did partake of the sacred nourishment, gai tort gatiem, chicken, garlic and fried egg over rice. Never again will I waste my time on cereal, fruit or yoghurt. My mouth seemed to explode in a shower of flavor and might and it was all I could do not to order another plate. Napping and shopping for forgotten necessities at central bazaar before moving on to Cowboy Bar to meet The Ayutthaya Gang. Thad & Sa were there, also met Ong(proprietor) and the author David Young for the first time and was glad to make their acquaintance. After much drinking and merrymaking, Geoff and Sa call it a night, while Thad and I go downtown in search of trouble...
My first taste of thai whiskey and the revelation that "cowboy bar" is a generic term in Thailand. If there are two on the same block they are often given a number. Cowboy Bar # 1 and #2, well, you get it . After numerous portions of the blinding cane whiskey I am becoming increasingly jovial, and am the toast of this provincial town, once the capital of this great country. We met up with Bier, another of the old ayuttaya gang, and plunge headlong into a disco which is the Thai version of the Coyote Ugly theme. Six or seven heavenly tendresses grinding and bumping while pouring out strong drink to the funloving youth of this town, who are all fixated on the few farang girls in the bar. After we eat in the street, Thai style, the standard late night fare of gooey-teeo, noodle soup with chicken. This is when the evening starts to blur, the last few memories being falling down noisily while eating the noodles due to a plastic stool made to hold people of smaller stature( in other words I am the ugly American), bargaining with the motrcycle taxi lads for a ride to moon cafe, howling and laughing while clutching the bike for dear life as we roared into the humid night, and finding the angel of Moon Cafe sleepy eyed and yet still willing to serve drinks and chat with this silly tourist. She is a dream. I must be dreaming. Waking in the hotel hungover and half blind, dreading the van ride back to bankok to catch a flight down south. No mercy here, the journey more painful than could be imagined, a precurser of the pain to come.