When I first decided to go a'travelin, I really thought I was going to live in Chiang Mai. I bought the books, I got the tapes, I learned the do's and don'ts.
I learned that you shouldn't pat children on the head, a very rude, cultural no-no. I learned that eating with the left hand is considered by traditionalists in Thailand to be crass and vulgar, and I learned that it is a crime to in any way defame, deface or denegrate the King, to the point that stepping on money can get you in jail.
As for the first one, I can easily resist the urge. As for the second one, I'm left-handed, so I'd have to wing it and hope for the best. As for the third one, well... come on. Seriously.
Of course, as it turns out, I didn't live in Chiang Mai. I opted instead for Hong Kong. So getting all twitchy about a rather specific scenario wherein I ended up patting a kid on the head, with my left hand, while standing on a Thai Baht, ended up being theoretical. Even so, knowledge is power, so if I ever in the future find myself thus, I will now know what to do, if still confused as to how I got there.
All total, I've been to Thailand about 20 times, and each time I've found the place to be charming and very interesting. This may seem like damning with feint praise, but it isn't. I get bored pretty easily, and Thailand (Chiang Mai in particular) refuses to let you be.
They do this by offering both diversity and oddness, and they pull it off with charm. For example: you can, quite easily, ride an elephant in the rain forest, pet a cobra at a snake farm, river raft on a nearby river, and wear cotton pants all in a single day.
Its almost hard to avoid.
As can be expected in such a peculiar place, I learned a lot about myself in Chiang Mai.
This requires some explanation.
Chiang Mai has a way of convincing you that you can do things you can't.
For example, it made me think I like cotton pants.
I don't.
It made me think I might be able to Thai kickbox.
I can't.
It made me think I should wear puka shells around my neck.
I shouldn't.
This power of delusion is not a confined event. While walking to my hotel one night, I walked past a karaoke bar, wherein a tourist was singing a Frank Sinatra song, "My Way". And let me just tell you, gentle reader, he was certainly singing it his way. Talk about "regrets, I've had a few"...
Another thing that I found riveting was the Night Bazaar. I loved it (although I've always felt that the word "Bazaar" is mispelled here. Kind of like a Youth Hostel has the word "Hostel" mispelled...).
Anyway.
The Night Bazaar has things to see too numerous to list, but let me just say that it is best to arrive early, just at sunset, because the sellers are superstitious, and are usually anxious for the first sale to go well, so the luck of the entire evening will be good. This means that prices can be bargained down lower in most cases. If you don't get there early, there still is much to see and the items are widely diverse and entertaining. You can see open air cafes, Thai kickboxing, a hospital... the very definition of cause and effect.
One odd thing I found about the Bazaar is that while it takes place on the sidewalks, there are existing stores (such as 7-11 and sporting goods stores, pharmacies, etc.) directly behind it. Or put it another way: the Bazaar seemingly blocks entry into the stores.
I suppose it has turned out to be a symbiotic relationship, because those perusing the Bazaar are just as likely to go into the building, but still it seems a little incongruous. Especially because those shopping the Bazaar will be looking for bargains brought about by haggling, while the stores have fixed prices and tend to be more expensive.
I'll post more about Thailand in future blogs, and perhaps will revisit this interesting city in both blog and person. I enjoyed visiting it, and I enjoyed the people who make it what it is. It was entertaining, interesting and enlightening, albeit brief.
Sawat-dee.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Juneau, Alaska- Salmon!
I simply love Alaska. It appeals to me. Don't ask me why... I'm not entirely certain. Maybe its the pun-friendly names (Juneau, Ketchikan, Bettles, etc.), or the breathtaking scenery, or maybe its just the idea that a place can be so doggone independent that instead of feeling alienated, it refers to everyone else as being in a different category, hence "the lower 48". It hints at the idea that, hey, they're not different, the rest of the U.S. is.
I love that. Spunky. Cheeky. Very cool.
And that is not to say that the people are in any way arrogant or bragadocious. Oh, no. Trust me, I know bragadocious when I see it. No, the best way to describe Alaska is... independent. It's like, "We were here before there was a U.S. government, and if worst comes to worst, well, we'll always have salmon."
And now we get down to it: you cannot, no matter how hard you try, walk down a street in Alaska without some kind of reference to salmon. Try this if you dare: whilst in Alaska, start at a point, draw a straight line, and walk to point B. Before you get there, you will either encounter a reference to the fish, or you haven't left point A yet. Try it.
"What does this have to do with Juneau?", you ask? Well, the aforementioned stuff was just rambling, if you must know. But I feel safely secure I can tie Juneau in because Juneau is the capital of Alaska, is stunningly beautiful, its name is pun-friendly, is inhabited by a friendly-yet-independent people, and it's mayor is a salmon. A very nervous salmon.
The city isn't very large, and many of the residents work for the government. And did I mention that they now have a McDonalds? This may not seem like a big thing to you, but its opening required traffic police.
Now if you visit, there are some things you must do. You need to visit Mendenhall Glacier, which is wonderful, and while on the way, depending on the time of year (I visited during the month of August) you can look in any stream and guess what you will find? Salmon, that's what. You will also find that bears love to come down from the mountains during this time of year and help themselves to the bounty. Being in such close proximity to bears would freak me out, but the Alaskans seem to have made peace with it.
You can also check out the cruise ships in the summer. They are fun to watch as they come into port. The passengers from the cruise ships swell the numbers of Juneau during the day, but because the ships leave at night, Juneau remains relatively the same size. It's like the city receives a morning tidal wave of nylon and brylcreem, and then the evening tide takes it all away.
I would also be remiss if I failed to mention that there is also numerous hiking, backpacking, kayaking, and river rafting opportunities.
Because I'm dangerously close to sounding like a brochure here, I'll have to procede carefully. Here's something removed from a tour-guide playbook:
The crime rate is low. Think of it. There is only one airport, so if you commit a serious crime, where would you go? Any flights to Seattle can be shut down in an instant. I suppose you could fly in the numerous amphibious aircraft into the interior of the Yukon, but that isn't necessarily a good escape. Which brings me to my next point: Many Alaskans have their own planes and fly them in a grandiose ballet that the FAA would probably best classify as: "emboldened".
All of these things endeared me to the place. I regret that I wasn't able to see it in the winter. Perhaps someday I will be able to.
So, long story short, I liked Juneau. I like Alaska. I hope to go back. They say that in West Texas, if you wear out a pair of boots, you'll stay forever. And if you're anything like me, and you stay in long enough in Juneau, you won't want to leave. And you'll know a whole lot more about salmon.
I love that. Spunky. Cheeky. Very cool.
And that is not to say that the people are in any way arrogant or bragadocious. Oh, no. Trust me, I know bragadocious when I see it. No, the best way to describe Alaska is... independent. It's like, "We were here before there was a U.S. government, and if worst comes to worst, well, we'll always have salmon."
And now we get down to it: you cannot, no matter how hard you try, walk down a street in Alaska without some kind of reference to salmon. Try this if you dare: whilst in Alaska, start at a point, draw a straight line, and walk to point B. Before you get there, you will either encounter a reference to the fish, or you haven't left point A yet. Try it.
"What does this have to do with Juneau?", you ask? Well, the aforementioned stuff was just rambling, if you must know. But I feel safely secure I can tie Juneau in because Juneau is the capital of Alaska, is stunningly beautiful, its name is pun-friendly, is inhabited by a friendly-yet-independent people, and it's mayor is a salmon. A very nervous salmon.
The city isn't very large, and many of the residents work for the government. And did I mention that they now have a McDonalds? This may not seem like a big thing to you, but its opening required traffic police.
Now if you visit, there are some things you must do. You need to visit Mendenhall Glacier, which is wonderful, and while on the way, depending on the time of year (I visited during the month of August) you can look in any stream and guess what you will find? Salmon, that's what. You will also find that bears love to come down from the mountains during this time of year and help themselves to the bounty. Being in such close proximity to bears would freak me out, but the Alaskans seem to have made peace with it.
You can also check out the cruise ships in the summer. They are fun to watch as they come into port. The passengers from the cruise ships swell the numbers of Juneau during the day, but because the ships leave at night, Juneau remains relatively the same size. It's like the city receives a morning tidal wave of nylon and brylcreem, and then the evening tide takes it all away.
I would also be remiss if I failed to mention that there is also numerous hiking, backpacking, kayaking, and river rafting opportunities.
Because I'm dangerously close to sounding like a brochure here, I'll have to procede carefully. Here's something removed from a tour-guide playbook:
The crime rate is low. Think of it. There is only one airport, so if you commit a serious crime, where would you go? Any flights to Seattle can be shut down in an instant. I suppose you could fly in the numerous amphibious aircraft into the interior of the Yukon, but that isn't necessarily a good escape. Which brings me to my next point: Many Alaskans have their own planes and fly them in a grandiose ballet that the FAA would probably best classify as: "emboldened".
All of these things endeared me to the place. I regret that I wasn't able to see it in the winter. Perhaps someday I will be able to.
So, long story short, I liked Juneau. I like Alaska. I hope to go back. They say that in West Texas, if you wear out a pair of boots, you'll stay forever. And if you're anything like me, and you stay in long enough in Juneau, you won't want to leave. And you'll know a whole lot more about salmon.
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