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.
December 9, 2004
Mommy my blog is dying! (and I can tell cuz it's not breathing...)
On re-reading my last entry I see that I am glossing over that last night in Ayutthaya, perhaps because gloss is all that's left of my memory after that epic bout of cane whiskey drinking. I do remember this though: I was praying for tender mercy by morning, there was no reprieve in sight and like a perfect angel G wakes me at 11:30 A.M. saying... "me and Thad are gonna go down to Bangkok, well meet you tommorow when you feel better." This is too much for me, being alone only three days in country, so I bellow out " Like hell you will!", and in 15 minutes, after much whining and crying and one last hurl, I manage to get it together and head for the minivan station in the back of a tuk, ready for my head to just up fall off at any moment, literally. I sat for the whole hour trapped in that van, 11 people and the driver, that whole hour with my stetson on my lap in front of me... upside down and waiting to be of service. I actually asked Thad to tell the driver that I was feeling sick though I knew that on the tollway, there are no emergency lanes, no where to stop. Only death there, for all of us. I felt that I just couldn't let all those nice people down. One girl hands me her menthol inhaler and not wanting to offend I whiff on it and it seems to increase my feeling of nausea exponentially in proportion to the amount inhaled. I dominate my innards by sheer force of will until we get to the hotel, relieved to not have exploded in close quarters. The hotel was clean n' comfy, a fridge is a must in Thailand, internet access too! Of course none of this means diddly to me because an hour after arriving I was asleep for the remainder of the day, requesting only gatorade and darkness. Perhaps I should have taken this as a warning or an ill omen, but I jumped up at about eight or nine wondering where all my friends were?? I see an note and call G's cell, he can't believe I'm alive, thought I was gonna die and thinks I should stay in the hotel. I am incensed at being left out and demand that thier whereabouts be disclosed immediately, that I might catch up to them at the bar. What happened that night? It gets a tad on the hazy side from here on in...Lets just say one night in Krung Thep.... yeah!!!!
The next leg of our journey is the hour-long flight down to Krabi, tropical paradise on the southern penninsula. A sunny playground of endless beaches, resorts and hotels. Travel by water, travel by land, however you like cuz theres no end to it and theres no hurry gettin there. After suffering hunger pains on the flight and eating some kind of fish cake spinach log thingy, I have second thoughts. Oh well, how much harm could one little spicy fish log do? We take a cab to Ao Nang, which G remembers as a sleepy little bungalo town with a few restaurants and bars. You can't stop progress and it's obvious that a few people have been pumping an enormous wad into the local economy. There were no less than fifty hotels and guest houses just on the main strip alone. Bad shopping bazaar music pumping, beer bar music jumping, head pounding, this was an unexpected turn of events and it was time to sink or swim. Geoff pounds the pavement and ropes us a hotel room, returning with a tuk tuk for me in my weakened state. After a hose down and a catnap we procure a late dinner and play some pool, drink some beer and play jenga and darts at the bar, all topped off an extra special sauce made with??? you guessed it... CANE WHISKEY!!!
I know... this is getting a little redundant already with the cane whiskey and all, I just didn't know how fast the sensation of going blind could become alluring, how much I wanted to be a man and drink cane whiskey! We are nearing the breaking point here, so pay close attention. After staying up into the wee hours again we go back to the hotel and try to cach some ZZZZ's. G starts snoring something feirce, and the absoutely mandatory AC is laying down a band of sonic interference, in the backround I can begin to detect my own pulse as I'm trying unsucessfully to sleep, it's a dull roar in my ears, and behind closed eyes I pereive an sea of fire and ash.
It's truly amazing that it took me this long to begin to think about the possibility that I might be ill. Even more amazing is the fact that I still hoped that my mounting torture was only a mild case of jet lag. I never aknowleged the likelihood that I was suffering from an advanced case of both the flu and jet lag, and yet this is where I found myself. Tens of thousands of miles away from my home, racked by fever and stretched thin by exhaustion, I heard voices in my sleep and, waking from delerium, became unsure of my whereabouts. Why had I come so far, only to suffer mercilessly at the hand of microbes and cane whiskey? All my orifices concerted to serve a singular purpose, one I will not name here.
We embarked the next day to Tonsai hoping I would recover and we could engage in maximum relaxation technique! But as soon as we hit the beach, I felt something snap. My fantasy vacation? My intestinal fortitude? Both victims of flu and evil forces! After a few days of talking to spirits I realise that I'm eating up valuble time being sick like stink! And by now G has caught it and is already recovering... I made a decision the day we leave by boat for Phuket. I will not even attempt to continue blogging, as I can smell the already bloated corpse in our midst. Post cards and e-mail, trinkets and souveniers? Time has become a most precious commodity and I refuse to waste a minute on those back home, or anything that might keep me from absolute immersion in the here and now. Focusing on recovery so that I might actually get some life out of this vacation, we search out a doctor in Patong and after two painful shots in the bum I begin to recover, just in time for the flight back to Bangkok.
December 21, 2004
The final gasp
OK, so I learned a few things. One; never eat the airplane food, ever! Two; when sick in a foreign land don't try to wait it out, you will lose every time. Seek proper medical attention (you might make friends with the doctor, if you are me anyway). Three; never order pizza or anything made with cheese when on a tropical island... they don't really have cheese there, or it's an ersatz cheese, anyway just forget about it. The return flight was uneventful other than a coughing fit that seemed to end only after recieving dark looks from the flight attendants and causing several people to don dust masks. I think they thought I had the bird flu or SARS or something along those lines. I was both deadly and contageous and I reveled in the feeling of power my sickness gave me. When we arrive in BKK I'm feeling good enough to shop and tour some of the sights. Farangs often turn thier ankles when in BKK and, not wanting to be left out, I rip my ankle all the way around so it's pointing east, back to California. My foot turned a pale shade of violet tinged with blood red and I consider going home early. What else do I have to look forward to... an early death or perhaps confinement in the notoriously cruel prisons of Thailand, maybe an angel in the form of typhoid? I am an overly sensitive person so at this point I sat down and had a good cry, then I marched straight to the pharmacist, loaded up on pain relievers you'd need a script for stateside, and proceeded to have 7 of the best days of my life. Temple touring, palace touring, museums of art and culture. I saw movies I couldn't understand a word of and yet new the story from beginning to end. I ate from street stalls and in five star restaurants, I drank in hotel bars, nightclubs and back alleys. I traveled by foot, tuk tuk, taxi and skytrain to just a few of the destinations this great megolopolis has to offer. I indulged in the rollicking good time this town provides from midnight to dawn, slept it off and started all over again. I quit converting bhat to dollars and just gave up trying to make any sense of anything. I managed to earn a thai nick name, but I won't tell what it is, or who gave it to me(some things are better left...) I learned to scare off even the boldest of transvestite pick-pocket artists with a hard look I picked up watching eminem videos. I just was, In BKK, what else is there? More than anything, I spent too few hours amongst people who are kind in the purest sense of the word. People who are compassionate and who are not so compelled to draw a line of demarcation between self and other. Maybe the streets are a little crowded and dirty, but Thais are the cleanest of people. Maybe the traffic is insane and dogs run wild in the streets, yet I would trade this all too human condition for the sterility of southern California in a heartbeat. Bankok is a city of angels, and it healed me...
Last night out so we meet up at club saxaphone, a two story bar with american blues, rock and R&B theme. This is my kind of place, the band is playing "littlewing" and absolutely tearing it up. Thais are some of the worlds best musicians and it seems to be rising to fever pitch when I realise there are but three hours until my flight home. It's like a gaping chasm opening at my feet! It just can't be over, not like this... Not when it was getting so good! I take a cab back to the hotel and think... I never made it back to Moon Cafe, where it all started, where I'm sure she sits right now, sleepy eyed and dreamy, but very real. I wonder if she will be there next december??? Only one way to know, for sure.