Sihanoukville, Cambodia, named after Prince Norodom Sihanouk, who ruled Cambodia numerous times between his coronation in 1941 and resignation in 1976 after the Khmer Rouge seized power, is an utterly dystopian place. An overwhelming and endless construction site, incredibly filthy and in complete disarray, it felt as though we had entered a post apocalyptic world where order, cleanliness and normalcy ceased to exist. Breathing its air was almost unbearable. We flew there in order to access the island of Koh Rhong Samloem, ten miles or so off its coast, supposedly a jewel of the Gulf of Thailand. If there is one place I could not be paid any sum to revisit, it would be Sihanoukville. Because of this, I took no photos. Trust me when I say that you wouldn’t want to see any. It is that grim.

China has invaded and enveloped Sihanoukville financially under its 2013 belt and road initiative to bring 152 countries deeply into its political and financial orbit. It has literally torn the city and its infrastructure asunder in order to build countless completely tacky and tasteless gambling hotels and casinos to cater to its own wealthy tycoons and travelers. Meanwhile, Sihanoukville groans and suffers under its weight. Literally every road in the city has been torn up, and enormous potholes stop traffic everywhere. It took over an hour to drive seven miles, from the airport to our hotel, after we arrived. Trash and enormous debris and litter piles are literally everywhere, and the locals live among it and in it. They are being driven out of affordable housing, akin to residents in the intermountain states when fracking and petroleum extraction crews arrive and bid up rents astronomically for available local housing, and the Chinese construction companies who work there import their own laborers, so the locals benefit not a whit.

Part of the reason that Cambodia has entered into this Faustian pact with China is that western investment has dried up of late and it has become desperate in seeking development aid. It will be interesting to see what becomes of Sihanoukville in three to five years. My guess is that it will not turn out well for Cambodia or the locals. In the meantime, if you find yourself in Cambodia, do yourself a big favor and steer as far from Sihanoukville as you possibly can.

Koh Rong Samloem was a delightful island reachable by a forty minute ferry ride. No roads, no cars and even no scooters. We walked three quarters of a mile to our hotel, a beachfront shack where the primary pastime was relaxing and watching the surf.

Pulling into the harbor

The weirdest Buddha I’ve spotted on the trip so far. If this isn’t the spitting image of Aunt Jemima, I don’t know what is. I assume it’s a guy, but it sure ain’t the Man.

A path across the island, complete with monkeys and snakes, led to Lazy Beach, a magnificent mile long stretch of golden sand with turquoise calm waters. To our great surprise, a really nice restaurant with bungalows greeted us, so after swimming for a while and lounging about, we had an excellent lunch and bevies.

After two days on Koh Rhom Samloem, it was time to flee Cambodia and return to Vietnam. We traveled to Nha Trang, often called the beach capital of the country, on its southeastern coast. When you fly into Nha Trang, you land in Camh Ranh Bay International Airport, fifteen miles south of Nha Trang. Cam Ranh Bay is a spectacularly beautiful deep water harbor which the US Pentagon selected as its main naval base during the War. Echoes of the Vietnam War have haunted me throughout the trip as names of places bring back memories of Walter Cronkite and Chet Huntley announcing the day’s news – and casualties – throughout the seventies.

Nha Trang rocks. It’s like Miami Beach and other elegant seaside resorts, with the added bonus of wonderful ancient Vietnamese neighborhoods with incredibly friendly natives and fabulous food. Vietnam’s population is amazingly young – 80% were not even born when the War ended, and I have felt absolutely no animosity towards me as an American from anyone, old or young here. They’re just really kind and friendly folks. How nice.

Breakfast view from our rooftop:

The beach and its promenade flow for miles, ringed by verdant green mountains on three sides and islands offshore that dazzle the eye.

Nha Trang Sailing Club, where we planted ourselves

We hung on the beach and chilled all day. Very relaxing and fun.

Lunch – Vietnamese crepes on the fly

One of the best meals of the trip at a tiny outdoor grill around the corner from our hotel. These three were so sweet and happy. We just kept ordering till we couldn’t stand up…

Walking back to the hotel, I spied these two angels through their open doorway.

I loved Nha Trang – it is stunningly beautiful and totally sophisticated, yet full of great local neighborhoods with unbelievable street food and smiles everywhere.

Off next to the imperial city of Hue, a Unesco World heritage site, then Hanoi again and Ha Long Bay. After That, Japan will wrap the trip before returning to the States. Hard to believe I’ve been on the road for six weeks already. It has zipped by looking back, but every day has been a joy of discovery and wonder.

I left Hoi An for Phnom Penh and the dream of Angkor Wat and countless other temples far inland. Phnom Penh really surprised me – a very interesting combination of chic and shabby. Driving from the airport to my hotel,  I spotted BMW, Mercedes and Audi dealerships completely ablaze in Christmas lights. I hadn’t seen any of these in the cities I’ve visited so far. No doubt they’re around, but they were absolutely enormous and very prominently placed in Phnom Penh. I’d assumed that Phnom Penh would be closer to Mandalay than Bangkok, but I was wrong,

Another surprise is that the Cambodian economy is completely dollarized, and cash is king. I hadn’t read that anywhere, and I’ve read plenty about Cambodia. It apparently occurred when the United Nations came into the country after the Cambodian Genocide ended. People became used to using U.S. dollars, and all banks now have USD accounts and wages are paid in our currency. The Cambodian Riel is accepted, but only as an alternative to U.S. dollars. With 4,500 Real to the dollar, a fistful of banknotes might buy a candy bar here.

Roof top dining and cocktails, peering out over skyscrapers wrapped in changing LED light designs, ensued. My friend Jes arrived in Phnom Penh today to join the traveling circus for ten days, and it was really nice to connect with someone I know very well after moving about solo for the past five weeks.

The next morning we visited the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum, which chronicled the madness perpetrated upon innocent Cambodian civilians between 1975 and 1979 by Pol Pot and his Khmer Rouge henchmen. We’ve all read about the Cambodian genocide and likely seen the movie The Killing Fields. The tale of what Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge visited upon gentle Cambodian men, women and children who did absolutely nothing wrong is of unspeakable evil akin to that of Stalin and Hitler. Of a population of approximately six million at that time, Pol Pot tortured and murdered almost half. Almost three million individuals who were dragged from their homes, tortured and made to confess to crimes they never committed and then brutally murdered for no reason other than blood thirstiness.

Oh my God – how could anyone commit such heinous acts? By what measure and for what reason could man stoop to this level of inhumanity? I will never understand it, but bearing witness in person to one of Pol Pot’s interrogation and torture chambers, a former high school in downtown Phnom Penh, where it is believed that more Cambodian civilians died at his hands than at any other place, was soul searing and incredibly disturbing. Below, photos reflect the darkness that reigned there. I apologize in advance for the graphic nature of these photos, but evil like this must see the light of day so that it does not and cannot ever happen again.

After trying to recover from the chilling experience of the Museum, we took a mellow seven hour bus ride from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap, the jumping off point for Angkor Wat and the other astonishing Hindu temples built in the 10th and 11th centuries to honor Gods, gurus, parents, children and others very close to the crown.  That these were conceived and built a thousand or so years ago and are not only still standing, but in many cases in quite good shape, is incredible.

These temples overwhelm the senses. They are magnificent visually, yet they are much more than that. Alone in the jungle, they stand proudly and resolutely, announcing their triumph over time and history. Learning their tales from our guide brought them to life in a way that completely bridged the millennia since since their conception and construction.

Rather than blab more without doing them justice, here’s a look at what we saw and fairly gaped at all day.

Banteay Srai, 15 km north of Angkor Wat and its neighboring temples

Angkor Thum

Preah Khan

West Mebon (Baray)

Prasat Bat Chum

Ta Promh

Angkor Wat

Crazy, really that these were built, and not by slaves but by volunteers, demonstrating their unwavering alliance to and love for their kings. Crazier still that they’re here now. Just really cool.

Off to Sihanoukville tonight and then on to Koh Rhom Sanloem, an island off the Cambodian coast that is said to be as pretty as those off the Thai coast and almost completely undeveloped. No cars, phone service or connectivity, I’m told, and power having arrived in the near past should make it a great stop.

I’ve been fascinated by, and drawn to Vietnam virtually my entire life. The Vietnam War occupied my childhood, and when I turned 18 in 1973, I had to register with Selective Service (what an Orwellian name – they were anything but selective in choosing cannon fodder for McNamara and the psychos running the War) and got a draft number for that insane undertaking. That the country had lost its appetite for War and its almost unbearable cost in young lives and treasure meant that the draft had pretty much wound down by then, as luck would have it, but some of my brother Mike’s friends and older guys in Manhasset who we all knew went off to fight in Vietnam and never came home. Those who did were never the same, coming back to a country that viewed them as losers and killers in a hugely unpopular war that they had no say in waging. They were blamed for the strategic and unspeakable blunders of our political leaders, and no one held parades to honor them on their return. It was tragedy writ large, from beginning to end, with countless numbers of victims in our country and countless more throughout Vietnam, a country as peaceful as any before the war and as devastated as some in Europe after World War II.

I’ve felt real guilt here because of what my country did to Vietnam and its people, and visiting for the first time has been both amazing and sobering. The debt owed to this country by ours is incalculable and can almost certainly never be repaid.

I’ve followed Vietnam’s history closely since the Paris Peace Accords were signed and the last US troops flew home. The country struggled mightily to rebuild and find its way for decades after the war, and although it is still a communist country, capitalism has exploded here, and the Vietnamese people were ready to run with everything it offers and then some. The country is booming now as a low cost goods supplier, tourism destination and in a number of service industries in which it excels.

The legacy of French colonialism weighs heavily on the country. Much of its architecture, language and traditions were artificially grafted into the country by force by the French. Having said that, the architectural legacy of the French in Hanoi is quite stunning. A vast swath of the city appears as though it was lifted from a European capital, with classical buildings, wide boulevards and magnificent structures all around. Some of that glory is captured below.

The Presidential Palace (formerly the French Colonial Administrator’s pied a terre):

Ho Chi Minh’s Mausoleum – visiting here completely floored me. The space upon which it sits, in Ba Dinh Square,  is absolutely enormous, occupying approximately a square mile of ground in the middle of Hanoi. This was the location chosen for the construction of Ho Chi Minh’s tomb because it was from this exact spot that he declared independence from France on September 2nd, 1945.

It took passing numerous security gates, metal detectors, surrendering my photographic equipment, being stared down by countless armed soldiers and a wait that spanned a half mile, which fortunately moved apace, to see Ho Chi Minh’s body lying in state. Once inside the tomb, a hushed silence and sense of awe overcame everyone. We walked slowly up a long shallow flight of stairs, turned right, right and then right again and into the room in which he lay, walking around his body in a large U, able to see him from both sides and his feet. I couldn’t take my eyes off him – it was completely riveting for me – and I immediately wanted to go back again because it was such a powerful experience.

Ho Chi Minh is God to the Vietnamese people, and his mausoleum and everything surrounding it demonstrates the reverence and esteem with and by which he is held by all in his country.  September 2nd is, by divine coincidence, both Vietnam’s Independence Day and the day that Ho Chi Minh died, and the Vietnamese say that in the morning of every September 2nd the sun shines, and in the afternoon it rains. How profound.

Pagoda on Hanoi’s West Lake

I didn’t take this shot (wish I had), but it cracked me up. She was no doubt a knock out…

I departed Hanoi for Da Nang on the central coast, where the first US combat troops landed in the Vietnam War. What a claim to fame….  Da Nang is serene and calm where Hanoi is chaotic and frantic. It exuded chill in its traffic, wide streets and innumerable restaurants and shops. It is said that in nowhere else in Vietnam is the pace of change as rapid as in Da Nang, and its modernity and ocean front towers speak to how it is reinventing itself and moving into the next century. Let’s hope it’s for the best.

Morning coffee view

Looking north

From Da Nang I moved south about fifteen miles to Hoi An. Hoi An, a Unesco World Heritage site, is impossibly beautiful. The town is bisected by the Bon River, and both sides’ architecture and buildings are incredibly well-preserved French colonial. To say that Hoi An is charming would be the understatement of the decade. It IS charm. Its people are really friendly and really interested in selling you stuff. They’re cool once they realize you’re not buying, but they are somewhat relentless while always polite.

Long wooden boats ply the river, gliding slowly past as you take in the sites.

A mother-daughter team in their shop

Cat napping is really big here and everywhere else I’ve been. People grab shuteye wherever they are, whenever they can. It makes for fun shots.

Chickens and eggs for sale

Totally gay, I know (I don’t mean that in a sexual way, of course), but let’s just say I was bamboozled into this one. Long story….

Well, I guess it had to happen eventually. First rain of the trip today. Ridiculously great weather so far. Just on and off drizzle in Hoi An, but the streak has officially been broken at 33 days. C’est la vie….

More in Hoi An tomorrow. Excited to bike around town and to the beach.

Sa Pa is completely unlike anywhere I’ve been so far on this trip. It’s in the farthest northern reaches of Vietnam, only ten miles from the Chinese border. It sits at 4,691′ elevation and neighbors Vietnam’s highest peak – Mount Fansipan – at 10,311′ above sea level. Big vert….

There are five different ethnic tribal groups here – the Hmong, Dao, Tay, Giay and Xa Pho. The Vietnamese from the lowlands – known as the Kinh – never colonized the highest valleys of the north.

The weather here is completely different than everywhere I’ve been – mid to high 40’s, totally fogged in and very damp. Haven’t been able to see Mount Fansipan or my hand because of the weather, which is a bit of a drag, but no worries – I know they’re there.

These women sell a multitude of handbags, clothes and knicknacks. They engage but don’t hassle you, and were cool with having me photograph them.

Don’t get this one mad…..

The Hmong street children are beyond beautiful and precious. They’re given the responsibility, at incredibly young ages, of taking care of their younger siblings while their mothers work elsewhere in town. It’s a family affair…. What’s interesting is the absence of their fathers around town. I assume they’re out working in the fields or elsewhere while their wives and children ply visitors for income. The youngest ones velcro onto you and follow you down the street wherever you go, holding up tiny trinkets for sale and locking eyes with you, until you succumb or they’ve walked too far from their home base, after which they turn around and go back. It’s so sweet and yet sad at the same time when you realize that they’re working for a living at the tender ages of three to six – before even starting school. There were no mothers anywhere near these little ones – I never saw them look around for their moms or hear a mother call out to them. Wow.

This little gang blew me away

Contemplating his toy….while selling trinkets

An observation about Vietnam, with the caveat that I’ve only been in Hanoi and Sa Pa (and the 200 miles between them) so far – people here are on the make. They size you up as a foreigner and try to extract what they can. Very mercantile, and they’re not bashful about doing so. I’m told there’s a dual pricing structure here – one for Vietnamese and the other – often vastly inflated – for foreigners. That doesn’t leave a good taste in your mouth, but there’s not a lot that can be done about it when you look totally western.

Heading out to hike in the fog. Hopefully it’ll clear up a bit.

Got back to Chiang Mai several days ago and it was really nice to return. This is such a nice town – the vibe, the scale, the sights, the people and food are all wonderful. I stayed in the Old City, which is amazing. Old, of course, but beautifully preserved, and the number of historic sights is off the charts. I settled into a nice routine and recharged a bit after the big drive up north and back.

Looking back at some cool sights in Pai, this is the Wat Pra That Mae Yen Buddha. It’s on a large hill outside of town and is reached by climbing around 500′ from its base. Once you’re up there, you look up another 60′ at its majesty. Amazing and really serene. I had it to myself on a perfect day and lingered for a while.

The owner of my hotel’s son. So cute.

Long neck tribe woman outside Pai

I didn’t take this photo. The  women showed much displeasure when I raised my camera to photograph them, so I had to find a stock shot. Nonetheless, this is just how they look and dress. Incredible.

Easy rider…..

Back in Chiang Mai

Temple doors

Drove up to the Chiang Mai Elephant Sanctuary, where old, mistreated and ill elephants are made happy for their waning years. This place was truly magical. No one other than me was there, and I got to feed, shower and just watch these beautiful creatures in awe really close up with no barriers between us. What’s so cool about elephants (these ones, for sure) is that although they’re massive and incredibly powerful, they are extremely gentle and smart. It was a real treat to hang with them for the afternoon..

This dude was taking a leak or looking for some action….

If she doesn’t look happy, I’ll eat my hat

Heading back down to Chiang Mai

In town again 

A chosen one

Today started off a little weird. I arrived at the Chiang Mai airport at 6 am intending to fly to Da Nang and onto Nha Trang on the central Vietnamese coast. Alas, not to be as originally planned…. When I attempted to check in for my flights, Air Asia told me that they couldn’t issue a boarding pass because my Vietnam Visa application had an error with my name and that I’d be denied entry in Da Nang and deported. The problem was an “R” instead of “Richard” for my middle name, but they said Da Nang was super strict and in essence, “No tickie, no shirt…”

Onto Plan B  – I bought an afternoon ticket to Hanoi, as the airline said they’re more chill up north (must date back to Ho Chi Minh) and would let me in (and Air Asia would issue me a boarding pass, most importantly) with the seemingly insignificant error in my Visa application. That just reordered the Vietnam leg, so all’s good.

I arrived in Hanoi this afternoon and got settled in at my hotel in the old quarter, then meandered around and had some incredibly good food and Vietnamese beer. I cruised around the old quarter and was treated to an absolute mass of humanity – an ant farm, really – compressed into and moving through tiny streets, with people eating everywhere, and as I strolled along, feeling groovy, I heard Norman Greenbaum’s Spirit in the Sky  wafting out from a coffee house. Rock on. After that, a two hour massage took the edge off the long travel day. Time for some rest. Been a long one.

By the way, I have not seen one rain drop in over four weeks of traveling. Didn’t want to jinx myself, but had to mention it. Batten down the hatches back home, children – I’ve read that it’s wild and wooly in much of the country.

Northern Thailand is exquisite. I’ve been poking around its far reaches the past several days, brushing against and into Laos and Myanmar, and have meandered  through the bullseye of the famed (and infamous) Golden Triangle, the stuff of legend back in the 60’s and 70’s, including the Mekong River. It brought to mind some wild visuals from Apocalypse Now, with Martin Sheen cruising upriver in a PRB, .50 caliber machine guns at the ready, in search of Colonel Kurtz. It all came back as I was sitting on the Mekong in Chiang Khong having lunch and daydreaming. Here’s a map of my meanderings since arriving in Chiang Mai from Bagan as a visual aid:

I’m about 500 miles N/NW of Bangkok now, and debating whether to drive down there before heading to Phnom Penh for the start of the Cambodia leg of the trip.

Some observations might be interesting and are kind of called for around now, as the trip nears its half-way point. Indonesia, and Bali specifically, was beautiful but quite crowded where I visited. Jakarta was a maelstrom of humanity and poverty. Life flowed seamlessly in both places, however. What I always view as most important when visiting somewhere new is my impression of the people. The Balinese people are so incredibly happy, sweet and chill that it’s hard to imagine anyone outdoing them in those departments. Well, maybe the Dirtbags…..

The Burmese people have very little, as their country has been wracked by political and military turmoil and corruption for decades, and where I visited, Mandalay and Bagan and their environs, were really impoverished, arid and not particularly pretty. Nonetheless, the people there were extremely kind and polite. They had almost nothing, yet they gave of themselves freely.

One observation that rings very clear so far is that everyone with whom I’ve come in contact has been completely honest, and I’ve never felt that I have been in any personal danger despite poking around some, shall we say, interesting places. In addition, no one has tried to charge me more than they would a local for anything, and I’d know if they had, as you pick up on that pretty quickly on the road. That’s wonderful. No mining of tourists for extra cash. Honesty rocks.

By the way, there are virtually no public trash cans here, yet there is no trash on the streets or elsewhere. People leave property unattended everywhere, and it’s not stolen. In addition, there are plenty of dogs pretty much everywhere I’ve been, many of which look like strays, but they are all super chill and they don’t beg or bark. Seriously. Funny observations in a way, but clearly noticeable.

The culture and religion here, primarily Buddhist, infuses people with humility, kindness,  love and honesty. Children learn to meditate in grade school here, and the calm it provides infuses society and creates an unmistakable social bond. How about a big dose of that for the States? Boy, would that be welcome right about now.

One striking feature of traveling here is that virtually every town has its own temple, and they are so amazingly beautiful and ornate that I struggle to comprehend how they are paid for in light of the level (or more appropriately absence) of wealth here. Everyone must donate inordinate amounts of their money, resources and time to build and maintain these spectacular places. That tells you what’s really important to these people. How nice in the grand scheme of things.

I’ve also not witnessed one disagreement, argument or shouting match during the past four weeks, and I haven’t heard anyone raise their voice towards anyone else. Everyone is completely respectful towards others. People wait in line politely and calmly everywhere and bow their heads humbly after interacting. The harmony and tranquility are so nice, and raise the question of how we, in our country, have gotten to the deplorable and divisive state that we’re in today. OK, enough soap box….

A total digression – Billy Joel’s Summer, Highland Falls came on this morning while I was listening to tunes and the lyrics “They say that these are not the best of times, but they’re the only times I’ve ever known…” rang out and vibrated powerfully through me. I feel so blessed and grateful for the opportunity to experience these places and the people who live here, in many cases much as their ancestors have, for centuries. These are, in fact, the best of times because life is what you make of it. Really cool and fun in so many ways.

Back to reality and some photos. These are from the Chiang Rai environs. Amazing sights nearby.

The Baan Dam Museum, otherwise known as the Black House outside of Chiang Rai, was very interesting and bizarre. It’s not one structure, but an assemblage of over forty in wildly varying sizes, shapes and materials, conceived and assembled by the Thai artist Thawan Duchanee as an interpretation of Buddhist philosophy. Its size, style and overall feel reminded me a great deal of my next door neighbor Philip Johnson’s estate in New Canaan, where buildings, galleries and sculptures of substantially different styles, materials, sizes and configurations join together over 48 acres to form a completely harmonious whole.  Here are some images from the Baan Dam Museum:

I know it’s art, but I have absolutely no idea of its intrinsic meaning. Pretty funny to me as a guy, though. Dude must have serious back problems cartin’ that thang around….

After Baan Dam, I went to Wat Rong Khun, otherwise known as the White Temple. This completely blew me away. It was conceived and built privately by Chalermchai Kositpipat, the Thai artist and architect, and opened in 1997. White was chosen as the temple’s exterior color, which was until then unheard of in historic temple design, to reflect the Buddhist notion of purity, and innumerable small mirrored glass pieces adorn it and reflect even more light from its core. In addition to the White Temple, numerous other buildings grace the property. It was truly sublime.

You have to see this temple to believe it. Photos simply can’t capture its magnificence and awe.

Notions of joy and peace juxtapose with those of pain and terror. Very interesting to experience.

Matt had a good idea on the name of the blog. I created it three years ago for my first Australia trip, hence the original name of Adventures Down Under. Instead of recreating the wheel for this trip, I just continued (and hijacked) that blog in the name of efficiency, but its name wasn’t really appropriate anymore in light of where I’ve been and am headed on this trip. So, here’s the new and improved look:

Early dinner stop at a street market on the road to Pai

Yum

Photos from last night and this morning en route to and in Pai:

Hill Tribe womanGotta believe James Cameron cribbed these lovelies for Avatar.

Met this fellow on the way to a huge waterfall. He was sooo happy.

These folks too

Sleeping angel on the street

Late afternoon

I went up to a spectacular waterfall this afternoon and had an interesting experience on the way back into town. Six automatic-weapons armed Thai police stopped me at a makeshift checkpoint on the tiny road, asked me some questions and requested that I agree to a search of my body, my pack and the car. They were looking for drugs (duh – we’re in the Golden Triangle…). I acceded, they patted me down, checked my pack and the car, and all was good. They could not have been more polite and respectful, although memories of Tulum momentarily flooded my mind. No worries, mon. Off to dinner and a cold Singha….

Tonight while cruising around Pai’s Sunday night street fair. Pai is a super cool, hip and fun town. Maybe a tad too hippified, but fun for sure. Really glad I came, as it’s off the beaten path and a bit of pain to get to.

These girls were singing and dancing to raise money for a local scholarship fund. They were quite shy, but very friendly. Loved the hat on the little one.

That’s it for tonight. Gonna hit the hay and get some rest for tomorrow.

I’m in Chiang Rai as I write this, arriving yesterday after grabbing a car for a week and driving three hours from Chiang Mai on improved and not so improved roads.

The flight out of Bagan was interesting, to say the least. The name of the airline – Mann Yadanapon Airways – should have told me everything I needed to know. I booked what looked on their website like a non-stop flight to Yangon, Myanmar’s capital, and ended up stopping three times en route. Long morning, but fortunately we arrived in Yangon in one piece.

Chiang Mai is simply amazing. My hotel was two blocks from the Old City, complete with moat and walls, which was fantastic. Here are some early evening shots. These temples are made of intricately carved wood and are perfectly preserved from eight hundred years ago, when they were built.

Wat Bupparam Temple

Wat Chiang Man Temple

Wat Chedi Luang Temple

Sweet couple at their food cart

Hope I’m not being boring with these temple photos, but they are awe-inspiring to see. Hard to do justice to them in photos, but thought I’d try.

Yesterday morning in the old City’s market:

This blind man was walking through the market singing softly. He had the voice of an angel. So beautiful.

So, it was off to Chiang Rai yesterday by car. That’s my preferred method of travel so that I can head where I want when I want and not worry about schedules and other stuff.

Chiang Rai is special. The town bustles and pulses, yet has a very calm air. Walking around was easy, as my hotel is only five minutes from downtown but in a very peaceful spot.

Here are some shots from yesterday:

The town’s clock tower

Street food vendor

I had a transcendental experience yesterday afternoon in Chiang Rai. I walked into an empty temple late afternoon and sat down in the quiet to reflect and chill. About fifteen minute later, six monks walked in, smiled and began their prayers. Even though I didn’t understand what they were chanting, their words and musical intonations resonated completely through me and struck chords deep within. Totally awesome, and I had to pull myself away long after they finished and left. A great experience.

I’m off to visit some impressive and unusual temples and settlements outside of town today and get out into the countryside. More to come afterwards.

Bagan is really far from everywhere. Perhaps that’s why its incredible heritage has remained almost completely intact for a thousand years. It took over seven hours on an old, dusty bus to get there from Mandalay, but it was totally worth it. It’s a World Heritage Site, and for very good reason.

Bagan was once home to thirteen thousand brick temples, pagodas and stupas built between the 9th and 13th centuries. Many have been damaged or destroyed by earthquake, man or time, but almost four thousand remain, and they astonish and mesmerize you over and over. Even though the temples of Bagan are ancient, the people of Burma (this is what they prefer to be called, as Myanmar is a name created by outsiders) consider them to be sacred.

I toured them in a group on e-scooters yesterday. What a gas. I traded the first one they gave me, which I thought was the childrens’ model, for a full sized model and we were off. Ripping around on dusty dirt roads (these scooters were fast with their electric torque) and rounding bend after bend, only to behold yet another spectacular sight, overloaded the senses in the best possible way.

Here is a series of photos on our temple tour that kind of defy description, so I’m just gonna shut up and let them do the talking.

There are nine temples in the background by my count, and this is representative of the fact that they’re literally everywhere, sometimes only fifty or so feet apart.

Whimsy outside the gate

This was the first and only time I’ve seen two Buddhas next to each other. They represent two brothers who fought to the death to assume their King father’s throne.

Our guide Mauing, born and bred in Bagan, who was incredibly knowledgeable, interesting and fun to be with.

I asked this woman, who was selling postcards, if I could take her photo after I demurred on the purchase. She said yes, then I tried to pay her and she refused. I ended up buying the postcards to make myself feel better and it made her smile. The people in Myanmar ask for nothing and they have so, so little. Their grace is wondrous.

Young temple guardian and monk

A beautiful young girl seemingly peering into the future

The next morning, I struggled with how to make my exit from Bagan – by boat, bus or flight. I decided to fly out, as the time and distance to Yangon was over ten hours (forget about heading anywhere else – you’d grow old before you got there) and I might have been on the river for weeks….

Back to Thailand tomorrow, this time up north to Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai, Chiang Khong and Pai. All are supposed to be pretty amazing and representative of the cultural and spiritual center of Thailand. Can’t wait.

Wow.  Jakarta, Indonesia’s massive capital, sits on the northwest coast of the island of Java. The mix of cultures spans centuries – Javanese, Malay, Chinese, Arab, Indian and European – and they have all influenced its architecture, language and cuisine.

Indonesia is the world’s fourth largest country in population – over 260,000,000 people – and the world’s largest muslim nation. It’s the world’s seventh largest economy but ranks only 23rd in per capita income. Five percent of the population owns 49% of its wealth. Not a recipe for long term happiness or success…..

Jakarta is incredibly dense and poor, but the traffic is mellower than in Bali. You still take your life in your hands when crossing a street, but there are openings here and there that you feel you can survive by going for it.

By the way, Indonesia makes a really good beer – Bintang Pilsner – that has been a joy to cool off with this week. Paul – it’s almost as good as Bud. You’d love it.

I walked ten miles (maybe more) today, pretty much freelancing around and throughout the city, and was overwhelmed by its grittiness and poverty. Having said that, everyone was really friendly. Calls of “Meesta” rang out everywhere I went, and smiles and small talk then ensued.

Here are some photos of what I saw:

Dinner anyone?

This floored me. These folks were cleaning out the sewers by hand. Yikes.

Contemplating the day.

Water purification in action, the old fashioned way….

This reminded me of the scenes in The Deer Hunter before the soldiers were lowered into the river….

Catnap.

This little boy was adorable, working alongside his father.

Schoolgirls after class. They were so excited to see a westerner.

Catchin’ some zzzzzs… Amazing.

Not the nicest ‘hood.

Pretty sure he was alive, but wouldn’t bet on it.

Young ladies at a little restaurant I ambled into.

The food here is absolutely incredible. Some of the best anywhere I’ve been. I just ate fantastic seafood – different fish, octopus and shrimp, for an hour at dinner, until I really couldn’t eat anymore – and the bill (including tip) was $3.70. Seriously. May have to start dieting…

Today’s lesson – be grateful. These people have so little – almost nothing – and they’re moving through the river of life with grace. I didn’t see a lot of smiles today, but I also didn’t feel any anger or resentment, and I walked through some pretty tough neighborhoods. Powerful lesson indeed.