The Hill(s) around Sapa

Yesterday I spent the day trying to avoid people who were trying to sell me stuff. Today I figured the best way to do that was to get out of town on a motorbike.

US$3 and a borrowed helmet later, I was on the road out of Sapa on a brand new Honda 110 scooter, to a place called Silver Waterfall, further up the mountain.

This is beautiful country! Green, lush, rice fields, rural families driving oxen, as I wind my way up the mountain.

Both Lee and Lisa will love hearing that I rode past a snake crossing the road at one point - I didn't realise what it was until I was pretty much next to it - passing within about 2 metres of my foot. I have no idea what sort it was, but it's head was the wrong shape for a python. Sorry I wasn't able to get a photo for you...

I could see the waterfall before I got there, falling down a sheer mountainside next to the road. The scenery was beautiful. The roadside hawkers and sellers were everywhere, and I even had to pay 10,000 dong to park my bike on the side of the road. Presumably, this was protection money, as everyone was trying to flag me into their spot. Not sure what would have happened to my bike if I didn't pay the 50 cents...

After walking halfway up the waterfall on a set of concrete stairs with a handrail that was falling apart in places, I went further up the road to see Tram Ton Pass, or "The Gateway to Heaven". Described as breath-taking in the guide book, I didn't want to miss it. Instead I almost ride straight into it.

As I headed on from the falls, it had started to rain - just drizzle really - but as I got to the top of the pass, there was so much fog and cloud that I could only see about 10-12 metres in front of me. When you're scuba diving, that's annoying. When you're riding a motor scooter on a wet and windy mountain road in North Vietnam, it's just plain scary!

Knowing the regard truck drivers took for sticking to the right side of the road, I decided no view - if there was a view in this fog - was worth the risk, so I turned around and went back.

Instead, I rode to the other side of Sapa and saw more rice fields, planting, and glorious views down the valley.

If you can put up with being hassled to buy things every 5 metres, Sapa is a beautiful place.

D.

Ho Chi Minh in Ha Noi

OK, so I got to Ha Noi — albeit a little later than I had originally planned — and now I am in Sa Pa (or Sapa).

Apart fom berating myself and feeling stupid, I spent my down time between flights thinking up an awesome blog post about missing flights. Then I landed in Vietnam and suddenly I didn't care any more.

What an amazing place. So much history, nationalistic fervour, and so much traffic!

Ha Noi isn't as big as Bangkok, but it feels like it is. Every square centimetre of space is covered by something: people, motor scooters, chickens, people trying to sell you chickens or rides on motor scooters, and posters of Ho Chi Minh.

I've been fascinated with communist states since my socialist teens back in the 80s. That's right kids, while your parents or big brothers and sisters were out teasing up their hair or buying Bon Jovi tapes to play on their Sony Walkmans, I was dreaming of running away to Moscow or Beijing.

I never thought that the fist communist country I would visit would be Vietnam almost 30 years later.

It's all here — stylised propaganda posters, the hammer and sickle along side the yellow star, and statues of Lenin only outnumbered by those of Uncle Ho.

I went to see Uncle Ho. Perfectly preserved (in appearance anyway) behind glass and six armed guards. A two minute shuffling glimpse fom about ten feet away, after queueing in the Ha Noi morning sun for an hour and a half.

Good experience, but I didn't walk out and run around to join the line again...

Now I'm in Sa Pa. The far North of Vietnam, near the border with China. A sleepy mountain town where tourism is the main trade.

And I do mean trade!

More to come ...

D.

Missing you ...

I have a new tag line for AirAsia:
It's only cheap if you catch the flight!

More on this later. Must go — can't afford to miss another flight.

D.

Tonight is my last in Bangkok. I knew three months would go fast, but it really does seem as though I've just settled in and now it's time to go.

People keep asking if I'm coming back — I hope so. At least for a holiday if not to take that job that Expedia offered me — oops! [backspace]

Of course, I still have a whole month of travelling to do through Vietnam and Cambodia! But I have been weighing up the things I'll miss about Bangkok, and the things I have begun to miss about home.

Brisbane — things I miss

1. My family (including Roxy, the dog), and especially my boys. We raised our kids to be independent, but that doesn't mean I don't miss having them around!
2. My friends at the Brisbane office. This is the first time in seven years that I've worked anywhere apart from the Brisbane Wotif office.
3. Being able to give someone a hug. I never know what the protocol is here, so I just resist the urge.
4. Being able to drink water from the tap.
5. Being able to hold a conversation with strangers that consists of more than "hello", "how are you", and "goodbye" (which is the same as hello).
6. Being able to order a meal in English, and know what I'm getting.
7. Blue sky.
8. Footpaths.
9. Being able to cross at a pedestrian crossing without checking for traffic.
10. Rubbish bins.

Brisbane — things I don't miss

1. Roxy's hair on every surface of my house.
2. Taxi fares.
3. The lousy public transport.
4. Boring food.
5. The Valley.
6. Shops that close at 9pm, or even 5.30pm!
7. Actually having your bag checked when you go through customs.
8. No daylight savings.
9. Not having my own pool and gym.
10. Today Tonight.

Bangkok — things I won't miss

1. The heat.
2. The smell of khlongs and drains.
3. Worrying that I don't have enough money on me to bribe a policeman if I need to.
4. Wondering which part of the animal that crunchy bit in my mouth was.
5. Dog poo down every soi.
6. Begging.
7. Saying "not want" to every second person as I walk down a street full of tuk-tuks and bars.
8. Dividing every price I see by 30.
9. Copping an eye- and throat-full of chilli vapour as you walk past a street vendor.
10. Having to go to Starbucks to get a decent coffee.

Bangkok — things I will miss

1. My new friends. Wherever I go in this company, I meet warm, welcoming, and generous individuals.
2. Being able to smile at almost anyone without starting a fight. A beautiful country with (mostly) beautiful, friendly people.
3. Being able to fly to the other end of the country, or even overseas, for $50.
4. Eating lunch for a dollar.
5. Catching a moto-taxi to work every day.
6. Living five minutes' walk from anything you need.
7. Shopping at 7 Elevens.
8. Soi dogs.
9. Markets.
10. Cool bars and restaurants.

Sawasdee khup, Krung Thep. Thanks for having me.

D.

The white stuff

I've mentioned here before that while we in the West busy ourselves with tanning on the beach, in the salon, and from the supermarket aisle, here in Asia it's all about getting pale.

A conversation with a friend here who was heading away to a beach destination for the weekend revealed that she was worried about coming back with her skin darker than it currently was. For one of the only white members of a family of five brothers and sisters (most of them have a lovely olive complexion, as opposed to my pale, pinkish blue aura) this was hard to fathom.

I've spent most of my life envying my sister's beautiful complexion, which despite now living in England, turns a lovely shade of brown whenever she spends more than ten minutes in the sun. My skin turns several shades of bright pink through magenta, dies, and then peels off leaving a freckly, blotchy shade of white.

Freckle-faced and ranga kids of Australia, this is the complexion we were beaten up for and taught to despise all our school years. Over here it's almost a prized possession!

If the aspirations set by billboards and TV ads are anything to go by (and lets hope they're not), the perfect Asian face is one that is barely recognisable as Asian, with a pale, white complexion. Faces all along the highway into Bangkok, Phuket, Chiang Mai, and Kuala Lumpur all stare down through eyes with the faintest hint of Asian.


Does this guy look Thai?

But why? With farangs coming from all over the world to find the loves of their lives, why aren't there posters of beautiful dark skinned Asian faces advertising everything from shoes to Ovaltine?

Look how beautiful these everyday people are!

Buy any sort of cosmetic product that you apply to your skin over here (deodorant, after shave balm, moisturiser, skin whitener) and it will claim to turn you whiter. Like this one:

This one comes with sheep placenta! Mmmm...

In fact, a recent deodorant purchase saw me score a free face wash product, which had the added bonus of whitening. So naturally, I decided to do undertake a scientifically robust experiment to see what effect, if any, it would have on skin that is already melanin-challenged.

The Experiment

I took a before photo, used the face wash every day for the past 25 days, and present to you now the results of this experiment for your own edification.

Before

After

Thanks to www.yearbookyourself.com for the pics.

D.

Taking care of business in Asia

I'm going to touch on a touchy subject, and mention some unmentionables. There, I warned you.

Nobody tells you about the toilets before you go to Asia. I mean, you hear rumours and stories as you catch up with friends who have been there and, well, done it, so to speak. But surely there should be some sort of government warning issued with your passport.

You know the brochure you get telling you how you can be imprisoned for drug trafficking and that some places aren't safe to travel? Well when you turn over to the next page there should be a diagram of what you'll find in a typical Thai or Malaysian toilet, and what you're meant to do with all the things that are in there.

I mean, most people have been going to the toilet by themselves since they were about two or three, so you know the business you're involved in and how to get the job done. But when you walk into the workshop and all the tools have changed, you can hardly be expected to perform to the same standards, can you? Even if the tools are just as effective, or even better, without the proper training, you're bound to at least fail, if not hurt yourself in the attempt.

Now, as a public service to readers of this blog, I provide for you what the Australian Government has failed to provide all these years. Here are three different toilet types you'll find in Asia, and how to negotiate their use.

While this looks like a normal toilet, and is in fact called a "Western toilet" in parts of Asia, looks can be deceiving. "Thank God!" you think (or even say out loud) as you sit on the familiar comfort of a porcelain throne with plastic seat. "I'd heard so many stories about toilets in this country..." But then, probably as your shift is drawing to a close, you notice one of two things: either a total lack of toilet paper, or a sign instructing you not to put toilet paper into the toilet.

I'll deal with the second scenario first. Naturally, your first thought is, "Then where am I supposed to put it?" The answer lies (or at least will if your aim is good) in what you thought was simply a run-of-the-mill waste paper basket. Hm! What an appropriate name. This bin is not for your toenail clippings or Mars bar wrappers, it is for your used toilet paper.

Koalas - the perfect mascot for toilet paper bins.

Like many parts of Europe, sewage systems in Asia are not up to the task of flushing away every item you think you can shove down the toilet — toilet paper, your flat-mate's stash, or the pet python you bought at Chutachuck markets. Therefore, while it may be true that "the job is not over until the paperwork is done", in this case, the paperwork is filed separately.

Now let's go back to scenario one on the Western toilet — no toilet paper at all. As you look around your tiny prison in a rising state of panic, you spot what looks like a tiny hose hanging on the wall behind you. No, this is not a handy mini-shower for those times when you've worked up a sweat, it's a case of wash, not wipe.

There are two things I will say here about the hose — watch your aim (slow and steady with the tap is the best approach as water pressure can vary), and remember that this is cold water (guys, be ready and try not to squeal like a girl).

Next is a hybrid toilet/bidet, with high-tech washing devices for front and back bottoms.

Note that while the instructional icon for the first control can be taken literally, the second cannot.

There's little explanation involved here, but again, don't be too hasty to spin the dial all the way to full until you've tested the pressure it's going to deliver, and see the above note on water temperature.

Now we come to the one that I, personally, dread the most — let's call it "the squatting hole".

The first time I saw one of these was in Korea about 11 years ago, and I thought someone, in a fit of rage, had torn a urinal off the wall and thrown it against the floor so hard that it was embedded there for eternity. You know, someone like Korean Hulk, or Su Per Man. It looked like a sideways, wrong way up toilet on the floor. I thought I had walked into the wee-wees only stall, so I went to the one next door. Same-same.

I don't recall how I reconnoitered my first squatting hole, but I probably held on until I got back to the airport.

Being a lot older and ... older, I now know that you crouch or squat over this hole. This is difficult enough when you don't have old basketball knee injuries and the poise of a hippo on yaa-baa to deal with — add to this the fact that in public toilets, the floor will invariably be "damp", if not soaking wet, with liquids of various colours, consistencies, and cough-inducement-factors. If you are wearing a dress or kilt, I imagine that this poses less of a problem; however in denim shorts, it beats the hell out of me how you're supposed to drop your dacks, balance over the hole while you're at your business, clean up when the task is done, and then leave the cubicle, without walking out looking like the kid from Slumdog Millionaire (you know the part I'm talking about).

To make matters even more challenging, the new piece of toilet hardware that you'd already become used to using in example one (a hose) has now been traded for a 40 litre drum of water, with a small bucket inside. Resist the urge to take the small bucket out, and dangle yourself in the drum of water.

---

Apart from these toilet types, it's also common to have toilets that aren't all that private. Stop on the side of the road at a rest stop with a make-shift eatery, and you're likely to be squatting in a toilet with little or no door, and perhaps a screen between you and the main dining area. I've been to more than one restaurant in rural Thailand where I could wave to restaurant patrons (if I so desired) from the comfort of the men's room. Speaking of which, you may also encounter women cleaning the men's room while you are making use of the facilities.

This toilet is for men and ballet dancers
with short arms and one leg.

Be further warned, gentle reader, that in some shopping centres you may also need to pay a nominal fee to use the facilities — THB2-5, or in Malaysia about RM2. The upside of this is that it usually means you won't have to use a squatting hole, and toilet paper will be provided.

If not, demand a refund and take your business elsewhere!

D.

Taking only memories

Remember the post about Bangkok milk?
The honey featured in the making breakfast post?
What about the toilet paper one?
And who could forget Mr Hill in the shower?

Well here's your chance to grab your very own piece of My Mekong Trip history...



Place your bid now!

... or not.

Spit, don't swallow!

Thailand, I know that when you put something in your mouth over here, it is all about including all the tastebuds - sweet, sour, spicy, and savoury (or salty).

But surely that doesn't have to extend to toothpaste!!

Apparently, that big white word written in Thai is "Salt"! Yes, salt flavoured toothpaste. I put it in my mouth expecting spearmint, peppermint, even beef mince would have been OK - but no, it was salt flavoured.

I used to think bubblegum flavoured toothpaste was weird.

D.

Finding India in Malaysia

Tonight, in an unassuming Indian diner behind Sentral Stassen (Central Railway Station), I had one of the tastiest Indian meals I have ever had.

The menu was mostly North Indian, and I chose the Tandoori Platter — fish, chicken kofta and mutton (aka "goat") — served on a sizzling plate with a spicy salad, mint yoghurt and naan bread.

I've had most of these dishes before in Australia, so I'm familiar with the flavours and spices. But here they were, somehow tastier, more alive in the mouth, more voluminous. It was actually like someone had turned the flavour dial on these spices and aromas, all the way up to 11.

I couldn't finish the whole platter by myself. I had to leave a couple of pieces of the fish, free to swim again another day. And all of this for the equivalent of about AU$10.

A platter like this at any decent Indian Restaurant in Australia would be three times the price. Admittedly, it was served with all the hospitality of an ill-fitting nappy, but I could not fault the food, which was the purpose of my trade.

I don't think for a moment that this little non-descript diner and sweet shop was some hidden gem that I stumbled across — the best kept secret since the Queen of England's lingerie supplier. I think it was simply an example of good Indian cooking, which no doubt abounds in this city.

The streets of "Little India"

As a plus, they also sold handmade sweets and confectionery at the front of the store. I picked up a bag of mixed lollies on my way out — something I haven't done since I was about 7. Thanks Little India!

D.

In KL's palm

As you fly into KL you see what all the fuss is about. Palm oil plantations, next to freshly bulldozed fields waiting for more palm oil, almost as far as you can see.

Palm plantations on the way from the airport

KL seems a lot more structured than my short-term home in Bangkok. The streets and highways are wide and well-serviced, traffic flows, even when congested, and they have a new "smart tunnel" — helping to relieve traffic congestion into the city, but when the heavy rains come, they stop the traffic and the tunnel doubles as a way to drain water out of the city so it doesn't flood. Smart tunnel indeed!

An almost empty street?

There seems to be more money here — I could be wrong, but the impression I get here is that people are a little better off than their neighbours north of the border. Things cost a little more — or if you go to the mall at the KLCC towers, they cost a *lot* more.

KLCC Towers

But I guess that slice of wealth, or piece of prosperity has to come from somewhere. For Malaysia, some of it has come from saying no to rainforest, and yes to pulp mills, and paper and palm oil plantations.

I fully support the work of groups like the Australian Orangutan Project, who are fighting to stop the loss of native habitat for orangutans in Malaysia and Indonesia. However I am also aware of the hypocrisy of people from Western, developed countries, who live lives of relative ease and luxury, telling these nations what to do with their natural resources.

They just want what we've got, and what we've been selling them for the past hundred years or so. Work hard for us, and you can have a house and a fancy car too. Build our transistors and electronics and one day you could have an iPhone.

After all, we sold off all our natural resources to get what we wanted didn't we? In Australia, we still are. Why shouldn't they be able to do the same?

Of course, there are very good arguments as to why they shouldn't, but until we come up with an alternative — a better answer than simply do as I say, not as I do — then I'm certain that Malaysia and other countries will continue to sell off what they can't replace to buy what we tell them they haven't got.

D.

On a roll

The first thing you notice about dining with Thai people is not the delicious aromas of ... OK, so the second thing you notice about dining at a street food venue or even an office function, is not the unknown hygiene factors of the food's preparation, or even the abundance of sticks (more on this in another post), but the fact that all these people are using toilet paper as serviettes.

When you first walk through the office and spot rolls of toilet paper on people's desks, your first thought (as an Australian) is that they've had a big night out on the lagers and curries the night before.

Or maybe those unknown hygiene factors have caught up with their seemingly indestructible Thai stomach after all! If I'd known the language better when I first arrived, people would have become fed up with me asking them every morning if they were feeling all right.

As I say, it jars a little at first, but when you think about it, it makes sense. Toilet paper is a lot cheaper than tissue paper or serviettes, so why not use it for all your wiping needs?

Of course, in a lot of Asian countries, toilet paper often isn't used in the toilet - more on this in another blog too - so it's more correctly a roll of tissue paper.

I think that when the first farangs turned up with their fancy sit down toilets and rolls of "toilet" paper, Thais thought: "Hey, what a cool idea! Tissues that come in a roll! That's so convenient, and easy to use. I wonder why they keep them next to the dunny though? No wonder they're all so fat if they're hoeing down on fried chicken even when they're on the can!"

I'm pretty sure that's how it happened. In fact, I'm going to go and setup an article for it on Wikipedia now.

D.

PS. If you Westerners are still grossed out by this, just remember, the rolls of toilet paper didn't come out of the toilet, they came from a factory where they make all the other types of tissue paper too.

Seeing the sea life

Last weekend I learnt how to scuba dive. In Pattaya.

For those who have never been, Pattaya is not a beach resort. There are beaches, and lovely islands here, but it is not Phuket, or Phi Phi. Leonardo di Caprio was never there with his shirt off, running from Asian drug lords or wrestling sharks.

There is some reef around the islands near Pattaya, but when you've grown up with the Great Barrier Reef in your backyard, it's hard to call it reef at all.

In fact, before I left on the first morning, I was chatting to one of the hotel staff about learning to dive. He asked me where I was from, and when I told him Australia, he was dumbfounded that I had come to Pattaya to scuba dive. It would have been like him turning up to the food court at the Logan Hyperdome to learn how to cook Thai food.

But even so, the experience of scuba was spectacular. As someone who has only ever snorkelled before, being free to breathe underwater and explore so much more was exhilarating.

The visibility and range of sea life on the second day was worse than the first - you could only see about 4 metres in front of you. The reef was damaged and half-eaten by urchins, where it hadn't been used for target practice by the Thai and US navies.

Even so, there was a story to be read at the sea floor about what had caused the destruction, the refuse it left behind, and the resilience of the sea creatures who survived regardless. Broken bottles and pieces of rubbish, now home to barnacles and small critters. The skeletons of coral. Unexploded shells, half-buried in sand. A discarded shirt (which I resisted the urge to pick up and bring home) nibbled at by fish. And overhead, the sound of a dozen speedboats and dive boats coming and going at once.

Like the people living in this beautiful land, the sea creatures of Thailand are survivors.

D.

Bangkok wildlife

Please note that this post is not about Soi Cowboy, Nana Plaza or Patpong Road. I didn't want anyone jumping in with false expectations.

Growing up in Australia, you forget how surprising it is to see native animals and wildlife in the city. When you're so used to watching the kangaroos hop down George Street (Brisbane or Sydney) and tossing the koalas a eucalyptus lolly on the way to work, you forget that there's something special about seeing the country's fauna where you expect only people.

I've been surprised, and sometimes gob-smacked, at the variety of animals I've seen in Bangkok.

It was hard to tell whether this guy was friendly or not, with teeth poking out like Agrajag
(go read Hitchhiker's Guide)

The most noticeable are the soi dogs, or what Aussies would call strays. There are a lot more of them per square metre than you would see in Australia. And some are well looked after, even though they're homeless. They sleep out the front of disused buildings with their own food dishes and water bowls that people fill up for them.

There are also plenty of stray cats around, but as with cats anywhere, it's hard to tell which ones are actually strays and which ones are just out for a wander and would happily come home with you for a free feed and a bit of lap time.

I've also encountered the soi bats as I walk home some nights - they swoop down in a pale, translucent blur over your head, like an ugly magpie in nesting season. Or maybe their radar just aren't used to farang shapes yet.

I encountered one Bangkok local long before I ever saw it. I heard a noise that I assumed was the noise the traffic lights make before it's safe for pedestrians to cross, only it seemed to be coming from odd places (trees, bushes, drains). I have discovered that it's a frog call, and not a traffic aid for the visually impaired (I actually have no idea how a blind person would cross the road safely in Bangkok - my guess is by taxi).

There are squirrels a-plenty in Bangkok - you see them in much the same places as you'd spot possums in Australia - walking down the powerlines to get to another tree, or jumping on roofs. I'm not sure if they also live in your roof and wake you up at 2am when they come home and find another bloke with their girlfriend.

One animal that I didn't expect to find here was a sugar glider, but apparently they are also native to New Guinea and Indonesia. I spotted one in it's native habitat here in Krung Thep - sitting in the hand of a street vendor near Khao San Road. Here's my friend Holly modelling the beasty for us:

Holly was so impressed that she did a web search and found a site claiming the sugar glider as the number one pet to have in an apartment. It seems the glider likes nothing better than hanging out with people. In their apartments. The people's that is, not the sugar glider's.

Alphonse, who lives at the end of my Soi

Another animal I didn't expect to find strutting around the end of my street was a rooster - I have at least two. This one - let's call him Alphonse, or Fonzie for short - has his own little wicker basket that he sits in sometimes, but most of the time he's just scratching around the footpath as I walk by on my way home. I've tried saying hello, but so far we haven't really connected. Some nights I walk past, Fonzie isn't there, and the people who hang around on the street near Fonzie are enjoying a hearty meal with the local moto-taxi drivers, and I get worried for the Fonze's well-being. But the next day he's back, cock of the walk again.

I've also heard that, just like Australia, there are snakes to be found in backyards and bushes, though only the spitting cobra - nothing really dangerous like the taipan, yellow belly black, or king brown.

Bath time at elephant world

Thailand is of course well-known for monkeys and elephants, and while I have seen these in the "wild" during my time here in Thailand, I have yet to see either monkeys or elephants wandering the streets of Bangkok sniffing around for stray peanuts. Although, I have read that there is a famous elephant who often frequents Soi Cowboy.

Ha! Tricked you! I did talk about Soi Cowboy after all.

D.

My dairy diary

Here's two ways to buy milk in Bangkok. You choose.



D.

Bye, bye Miss American Thai

I went to a 1950s-style American Diner tonight. It had juke boxes, padded booths to sit in, and Elvis playing in the background.

If I were to use deductive logic, I should not have ordered from the Thai section of the menu. If you're at a Thai-themed restaurant in Bangkok and you order a cheeseburger with chilli fries, chances are it may not be the best you've eaten.

So by deduction, I could say that ordering Thai food at an American-themed restaurant touting large burgers and thick shakes would be a mistake.

Except that all the kitchen staff were Thai. I had a very nice chicken massaman curry.

I do need to learn some more essential Thai phrases though. For the second time in a week, I asked to look at the dessert menu and was brought the bill instead.

Or maybe I should stop wearing such tight-fitting shirts.

D.

PS. If I was running a 50s American joint, I probably wouldn't have the Asian Soccer League playing on the big screen. Just saying.

Shower Power 2

I don't want you to get the impression that I'm a shower snob, but once again, a hotel — actually, a five-star resort — in Phuket has got my dander up with it's lack of shower prowess.

This time, the Evason (a beautiful place with lovely staff) has left the great unwashed just that little bit more unwashed.

My expectations were so high too — I walked into the room to find not one, but two showers in a bathroom big enough to host an Amway party. All my hopes and dreams were dashed the first time I tried to step beneath their cleansing waters.

Not a bathroom for tall people

The first thing you'll notice is the the ceiling is very low — I could place my hand flat on the ceiling. This didn't particularly bother me, but I immediately thought of some taller colleagues who would run into trouble here. I mean, I'd hate to see Craig Dawson trying to shower in here. Well, there are many reasons why I'd hate to see Craig showering in my hotel room (no offense Craig), but that's for a different blog.

The next problem was the lack of pressure produced by the shower head. Instead of the "shower-like spray" you would expect from a shower, five trickling streams fell directly to the floor, like some toothless old man dribbling out of the side of his mouth.

The dribbler setting

I did my best to rinse and lather, but it was like punching some holes in the bottom of a styrofoam cup and using that as a shower. Hopeless.

Luckily for me (or so I thought) there was also a bathtub with a hand-held shower attached to the tap. I'll use it instead. However, I was now back with my former shower problem of shower heads mounted to the wall by people who obviously don't know what showers are for.

This one was mounted directly beside the bath taps, about level with my kneecaps, and pointing out across the bathtub — not down the bathtub lengthwise — and out the bathroom door. This meant that I could either have very clean thighs, or an Atlantis themed room.

I checked out a friend's shower who was also staying at the time (not Craig) and discovered the same design challenges.

While most people come back from a holiday looking forward to their own bed, I slept fitfully on the flight home dreaming of my shower.

Home sweet home!

D.

The song of the sausage

Today I had my very first case of "Tourist Tummy", also known as Thai Belly or Bali Belly if you're in that part of Indonesia. Now I feel like a real tourist! All of my friends were getting it from our Chiang Mai trip, and I was beginning to feel a bit left out. Not any more.

It was the sausages that did it. In my defence, they had been taunting me ever since I arrived in Thailand, and like a sailor strapped to the mast while listening to the call of the sirens, I've resisted their charms for two whole months.

Last night I was out wandering around the Phuket Indie Markets (a great little local haunt with none of the usual tourist fare for sale) working up an appetite. There were several food options around, but most of them involved the arduous task of sitting at a table and ordering from a menu, and then having to wait while they cooked the food! Boring.

I opted for the street vendor with the charcoal grilled sausages instead. It's like home-cooked McDonald's - fast food, but tasty. Lovingly prepared by a very friendly chap, who had formed the sausages by hand earlier that day. Rustic. And I'm pretty sure organic. As it turns out, there was a lot more organic material than I had bargained for.

I don't think it was just the sausage that had me feeling a little green (and not very environmentally friendly) the next morning; it was probably more the quantity that I ate. I ordered two of his finest what I think were beef, cased sausages. While he sliced them up for me (all part of the service), I spied a little bundle of uncased pork sausages - hand-rolled, just like I do with sheftalia back home (almost).

When he started bagging up my original order with my very own eating stick, and I saw that it came with a fresh cut salad, I ordered one of these juicy looking boys that had been calling to me everyday on my way home from work. "Mr Hii-iiiw!", they called. "Don't we look tasty?" Their songs wafted on the breeze as I walked through night markets: "Dawi-iiid, we smell delicious, nah?"

I ate half of them on the way back to my hotel. They were aromatic, spicy, with good texture, and not at all like the greasy, fatty things you get outside Bunnings on a Saturday morning in Brisbane. And the raw sliced cabbage served with it was sweet and crunchy - the perfect accompaniment. The flavour was not unlike a pepperoni, though without the greasy film left on tongue and finger.

I finished them off at the hotel, felt full and slept well.

The next morning, the sausage was kind enough to let me wake up, get out of bed, and get a drink of water before it started to ring the alarm bells in my stomach. Actually, it felt more like Rolph Harris playing his wobble board while jumping on a trampoline.

That's when my stomach decided to kick Rolph, his wobble board, sausages, and trampoline out.

I have had what I can only describe as a "no passing wind day". I couldn't take that risk. I won't go into all the gory details, but let me just say that I didn't eat a lot today, and what I did eat was very bland. Bottles of water, Coke Light, and black tea ruled my gastro-intestinal world today.

So I'm now sitting at a five-star resort on the Southern tip of Phuket, which has four or five gourmet restaurants and its own private island. I'm hoping that by tomorrow my stomach will have sorted itself out, because I was really looking forward to sampling most of what they have on offer here.

I'll probably give the gourmet sausage a miss though.

D.

Walk the talk

As any first year communication student knows, there's more to communicating than just words.

There are cultural differences I'm uncovering here that go beyond language and the way we talk. It's in the expressions, the attitudes, the non-verbal sounds, and even in the way we walk.

For example, it took me a little while to realise that my Thai friends weren't making fun of each other in a conversation when they responded with "Errrrrr. Ehr, ehr." They were agreeing with what was said. Similarly, anyone who who has socialised with a group of Thai people will recognise that "Oiiiiiii!" has nothing to do with 80s punk music, or that annoying "Aussie! Aussie! Aussie!" anthem.

In Australia there's a look, combined with a posture and a defiant walk, which you adopt when a car fails to stop at a green "Walk" signal or pedestrian crossing. It's a look of righteous indignation; a purposeful "how dare you!" to the driver of a one tonne vehicle who should know better, and is clearly in the wrong.

Now take exactly the same look and posture, in exactly the same situation, but on the streets of Bangkok, and its meaning is completely different. It means "I'm a stupid farang." Repeat the non-verbal communication a few times in quick succession, and it can come to mean "I will be availing myself of your wonderful healthcare system shortly".

These non-verbal messages can work to your advantage. I think I've become fairly good at not looking like a tourist. Those who are familiar with my loud shirt collection may disagree, however there's definitely certain non-verbal cues you can adopt if you don't want to look like a sucker, and I am willing to share my insights with you here, gentle reader.

A work colleague recently mentioned standing in public looking at an open map as a dead giveaway. This, along with the loud Hawai'ian shirt and camera around the neck, are obvious clues - so obvious I'm not going to mention them. Whoops, too late.

Of course there are times when you want to be a tourist and enjoy the new experience, but if you'd like to be able to walk down the tourist strip (or out of the airport) without being accosted by tuk-tuk drivers and people expounding the joys of table tennis exhibitions, there is a walk and an attitude that you can adopt.

Start with a lack of eye contact and don't look at your surroundings. Even if you've never been to this place before, look down at the ground where you going, or better still, straight ahead. Pretend you're walking home after a long day at work, and all you want to do is get home.

You can comfortably glance at the things around you as you walk, but your walk is purposeful. You're not browsing at the Sunday markets (even if you are actually browsing at the Sunday markets), you're headed somewhere.

There's no need to be rude or aggressive, it's more an attitude of boredom. Act like you've been here a thousand times before, and are just on your way through once again on your way somewhere, so not really looking to buy any Viagra or Sponge Bob Square Pants items today. The non-verbal message you're sending is that anyone wanting to sell something is better off approaching the couple behind you arguing about whether it really was Tiffany at that last stall, and that even if it was Tiffany, you still could have talked him down a bit more.

I have survived many forays into markets, airports, shopping centres, and unlit alleyways with this method, and have lived to tell the tale.

Unfortunately, it doesn't stop me from buying a lot of crap though.

D.

Walking tour

I came up with a great new business idea last night, and my faithful blog followers are the first to hear about it. Send letters of interest and investment proposals to my Bangkok office.

Mr Hill's walking tour of Krung Thep

A completely different way of seeing Bangkok

Pick a destination that you haven't been to before, and would like to see

It doesn't really matter what the destination is, because you're not going to get there anyway, so pick anything.

Go at a different time of day - preferably night

Not only will you avoid the crowds by going when everyone else is eating dinner or enjoying a night out with friends talking about the professional tour they went on and what they saw during the day, but some transport services will have stopped running, forcing you to find different options. You'll also get to see the locals who live in these other areas, and who would otherwise be at work serving you coffee, or selling you Calvin Klein knock-offs.

Maps make you look like a tourist

It's not enough just to leave the map at home, you should also not familiarise yourself with the area beforehand. Take a quick glance at the map of train stations online to give you a general idea of where you are getting off, but no real idea of where you are once you walk down stairs from the train station.

You could also browse Google maps to give you a general perspective on the major arterial roads (and have you believing that you will remember the name of that 14 syllable highway) so you have a vague idea of whether you are walking into or out of a particular area. Remember though that Krung Thep looks very different when you're standing on the back sois and highway underpasses than it does from the satellite.

Follow the locals

When you're at a ferry terminal, assume that, even though the last tourist service has run for the day, any other boat you step on will probably take you somewhere near where you originally thought you might like to go. When you discover that all these people are simply crossing to the other side of the river (probably going home after a long day putting up with tourists), and that you could stay on the boat if you like, but it will only take you back where you've just been, resign yourself to discovering this new part of Bangkok across the river.

Rejoice even more when you discover that the ride cost you all of 3 Baht (aout 10 cents). Rejoice, yay, rejoice thrice good people, that you have thought to bring coins, and not just a 1000 Baht note.

Follow the locals again...

Your ferry crossing will inevitably deposit you in one of those areas where "what will tourists want" was not on the town planners' agenda. Note the total lack of tuk-tuk drivers, replaced instead by a handful of moto-taxis taking the locals away from the ferry terminal to their homes. Note also the large, unlit park where local youths gather to pump iron like the Krung Thep version of Venice Beach. Keep following the locals away from the terminal, and wherever you go, keep the river on your right, so you can always get back to the ferry if you need to.

Wander

Again, it's not really important which streets you walk up, and which sois you walk down - it's all about the experience of being off the tourist radar, and seeing local life in a different area. Accept the fact that you won't see another Western face for at least an hour and a half. That's OK. You may get puzzled looks, but they're probably just wondering if you're lost. There's nothing hostile going on.

Keep coming back to the river

It's good to have at least one anchor point. The river is a good one, because sooner or later, you will come to another crossing - ferry terminal, bridge, tuk-tuk driver, etc. Your heart-rate may quicken, and your excitement even peak when you see signs of tourist activity again. Resist the urge to run up and hug the first policeman or other uniformed individual you see. This is frowned upon.

Know your limits

After walking for two hours (did I say not to wear high heels?) you may be ready for some bright lights and a light refreshment or two. Knowing when to wave down a cab and head for the closest tourist haunt is a skill it may take several walking adventures to master. You need to leave a bit in reserve so you can still actually walk down the tourist strip when you get there, and that you can sit upright in the chair, rather than lying on the footpath outside the bar (again, frowned upon).

Reflect on your journey

Finally, as you sit and enjoy a wood-fired pizza topped with a cheese of unknown classification, you can reflect on the tiny piece of Krung Thep that you have just witnessed, the different attitude and outlook of locals when they're not surrounded by farang looking for a bargain, and the incredibly vast place that this city must really be.

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After my walking tour, I can no longer think of Bangkok as an "East meets West" city. The West may have dropped in here for a visit, but it's well and truly confined to one or two rooms of this vast sprawling Eastern mansion, which has a life and an energy all of its own, quite apart from anything we may think we may have imparted from the confines of our small quarter.

D.

Wash this space

There's so much I'd like to tell you all about, but so little time to spend bloggerating (some guy in the office expects me to do other work while I'm here as well). Here's a little sample of the topics that are congealing in my head, and that I plan to put into pixels when I have exactly the right mix of time and inclination:

• Grocery shopping
• Taxi drivers
• Water usage
• Why I hate tipping
• Disposing of rubbish
• Religions of the world
• The origins of language
• And of course - the dreaded hose

But for now, here's a little treat for you - a video I put together to show you what a typical washing day looks like for me in Bangkok.