I am sitting here in our otherwise uninhabited resort, very burnt. James is a nice shade of tan and sipping hot tea on the hot beach. We escaped the hordes of people in Phuket seeking sun and sex and now find ourselves on a vast, empty beach (just us and the translucent sand crabs) with jungle on either side. Since it’s technically monsoon season, the hotels are nearly empty, the rates are cheap, and the weather is beautiful. There are nightly thunderstorms, but sandbags line the shore to protect us. And the lightening looks like the laser light show you see at Disneyland, so of course it can’t be real.

One the way up, we weren’t sure whether we should disembark at Lam Kaen, a few miles south of the main town, or Khao Lak, where we wouldn’t have to take a motorcycle to our chosen lodging: Poseiden Bungalows. Moreover, we hadn’t been able to get in touch with them. It wasn’t until we finally ended up in a pricey minibus that we discovered that it was closed. But there was a silver lining: we saw a baby elephant or two along the way. I named him Bingo. He was a big show-off that one. The minivan driver graciously brought us to one fantastically expensive resort, and then this one (Khao Lak Sunset Resort): for $40 a night, we have elephant-shaped towels, a beach and pool to ourselves, and a balcany with beautiful sunsets. Breakfast included.

The food here is intended for Germans with a healthy appetite and distrust of all things local. Our breakfast came complete with a basket of meats which I refused. We spent most of our time within sight of the hotel—three meals and counting—bouncing between the chest-height waves and the shaded lawn chairs. The ocean here is about 80 degrees, almost too hot to be refreshing. But with plenty of dangerous boulders and washed up coral, we were easily amused.

Tomorrow, we head to the not-so-isolated Ko Pha Ngan, an island of hippies and snorkelers I wanted to go to James Bond Island but James made some some strong arguments for why we should not go somewhere just because I saw it on a postcard in the grocery store. It could take us all day and night, but I’ll keep you posted.

We flew from futuristically civilized Kuala Lumpur to sweaty underarm of Thailand: the so-called beach paradise of Phuket. Our plan was not to stay—we wanted to get up to the pristine beaches north in Khao Lak, but our plane didn’t arrive until the last bus had left. Moreover, no public transport from the airport would take us to the reasonably priced accommodations in Phuket Town, so we were forced to choose between a 600 baht (~$20) cab or a shared van to resort-prone Hat Patong. We found a budget spot in our book for Patong and clambered into the van, which (after waiting 20 minutes) promptly turned two corners and stopped at a “Tourist Information” center. A woman ran to the door, “Welcome! One person from each party please, this way.” Johanna went inside the storefront with big posters of sunsets, bikinis, RV rentals, underwater thumb ups lining the walls. A few minutes later, she rushed out, having gotten away with only taking a pamphlet from the manifest touts. They had naturally insisted that our hotel was “probably booked out”, but fortunately they had a brochure right here on a similarly priced hotel that the woman was sure we would like. No thanks.

You have never seen a more retched hive of scum and villainy than Hat Patong. An area of maybe 5 square kilometers is absolutely packed with strip joints, rub-and-tug massage parlors, prostitute-laden bars, and late-night blaring clubs. The sheer number of short skirts necessary to populate Patong, where prostitutes occupy every shop and travel in gaggles, could wrap around the island. Throughout Southeast Asia, we’ve encountered the cliched aged white man with a young asian “girlfriend”, but on Patong’s streets every other man had a working girl on his arm. And the beaches here are piled two levels deep. After a near-sleepless night, listening to drunks and dance music outside our window, we decided against seeing any other parts of it.

The next morning, we took a bus to the almost-cute, almost-residential Phuket Town, for a bus to take us to the beautiful, and largely deserted beaches of Khao Lak.

We are now in Penang, about 5 hours (by bus and then a short ferry) away from the neon mega malls of KL. This is reputed to be a food lovers’ city and indeed we see Indian, on top of Chinese, right beside Halah and other fussed varieties mixed in.Some of the highlights include: Cendol which is shaved ice covered in sweetened condensed milk, red beans and jelly like green things (really called attap chee) and the even more elaborate variation served with ice cream and more sugary syrups called Ice Kacahg. We’ve e also had tasty uthupams, doasas, mee curry (thin tomato gravy with chili, egg noodles and tofu cubes some other seafood seemed to have snuck in) and koay twow (flat rice noodles in a salty/garlicky broth with bean sprouts and onion. The owners of our hostel have decided to paint the steps leading up to our room so we are camped out in an internet cafe for a few hours dong work. We attempted to buy some gifts here but the prices are so high! Like James mentioned in his post about the superior transportation systems of the country, there are many things that would embarrass the US. I will say that I do prefer the bathroom and Western style toilets back home. The sun seems to be getting lower so I’m itching to get back outside. Tomorrow we are back in KL in time to pick up our Burma visas take a tour of the enormous Petronas Towers (which were the tallest buildings in the world until Taipei 101 upped the ante in 2004) and then fly to Phuket for the Thai beaches.

I’m writing this from the largest, softest, and brightest bus seat I’ve ever sat in. We bought our $10 tickets for the 5 hour ride from Kuala Lumpur to Palau Penang from a bus station that ranks amongst the most orderly, cleanest, and largest I’ve had the joy to patron. KL is one of those developing world cities that puts the western world to shame, with an impeccable rapid transit system (with skytrian and underground), delicious tap water, a vibrant market, and consumption opportunities at every turn . The skyline is a bit ridiculous, with hundreds of 40++ story towers (and plenty more being built), interspersed amongst older colonial and ethnic architecture. The shorter towers seem to usually be/belong to colossal malls, packed with electronics, fashion, and food—we got lost in three such malls, each with seven floors, and stayed away from many more.

One mall was called Plaza Low Yat, and I have never seen such a glorious sight: seven floors of electronics—mobiles, laptops, cameras—from scores of stores, from zillions of companies. We went to the local Apple retailer (macStudio) to get Johanna’s laptop fixed. The hard drive had died, and we were told to go to the fifth floor, and pick out a new one. “Which store?” Any store. Every store on that floor had computer parts—not to mention the tables layered with with more laptops and swarming with customers and agents—and most of them knew exactly what we needed and had sheets of prices or piles of boxes to choose from. When we went to the camera floor for a new UV filter, every store had drawers filled with the piece we needed and each store had options from different companies. This is true market capitalism, as it should be.

Kuala Lumpur is intensely international, each group showing all its colors: Arabs in their burkas, Indians in turbans and saris, chinese in tight jean jackets. Every culture’s food is on display too: outside of the copious restaurants, street vendors organize themselves into “Hawker Lanes”, where you can get dhal, rice porridge, noodles, and burgers all at the same table.

Not everything is good though. The air can be very hot, and always full of exhaust. Road crossings usually involve dodging cars, and even walking down the street is a challenge with intermittent and uneven sidewalks. Though fortunately we ddi not take our lives in our hands each time we attempt to cross like in Cairo, cars at least slow when we approached and weaved between them. We took two cabs: the first over-charged us, and the second was a vocal xenophobe (talking about how Indians were cheats and Muslims were dumb to fast for Ramadan). Palm oil plantations radiate for miles outside the city, and burned down forests are busy being transformed by construction vehicles into cookie-cutter houses.

We are in Chiang Mai—one of Thailand’s oldest cities. And as it became clear to us, flash backing mecca for hedonism seeking tourists. From tattoo shops, to bars otherwise uncommon in a Buddhist area to pleasures of a more elicit sort, go no more than a step and you’ll find it here. I got super sick (though James was in denial and told me to drink water and wait it out, he remained sympathetic and helpful through out) about two days ago and decided after terrible stomach cramps that made it impossible to sleep last night, to go ahead and take the cipro. Between that and the occasional banana shake and working, we are trying to squeeze a few watts in before we fly to Kuala Lumpur on Thursday morning. Yes, we thrill seeks (and how many countries can be crammed into 5 weeks…) are at it again. We bought our tickets and after reading up on the food extravaganza that is Georgetown (island off of KL, not to be confused with the preppy DC neighborhood) we are very excited. I need to hydrate and work. James will fill you in on the city’s wonderful wats and the tasty vegetarian food that abounds. Pre sick (or really mid sick) we had the most fantastic salad with avocados at Blue Diamond just down the road from where we stayed the first night. We’ve since moved (mostly because I appreciate sheets on a bed) and are in an apartment complex of sorts. I read “Year of the Roasted Ear” detailing the adventures of travelers far more cosmopolitan and we (I conclude this because a. they are French and b. they stay in fancy diggs with plush carpets) but just wanted to call attention to the title which points out dietary abnormalities. Sure roasted ears can be purchased in Bangkok, and enjoyed by some I am certain, but why compose a travellog with the intention of shock and awe? I still experience conflict when I complain of the bugs/lizards/dogs that roam all over and wonder if I am recording them to document my experience or picking those salient details to show contrast from my otherwise sheltered life. I will let you know if my tune changes as we go to more densely populated, politically unstable and less vegi-friendly parts of South East Asia. On a final and some what stressful note, I was unable to get more pages for my passport here (necessary for a visa to Burma) so we will check out the US Embassy in the next largest city. Hopefully it can be done!

We have completed day one of a two day trip up the Mekong river to get back tp Thailand from Laos. The boat is far nicer in every way than the bus we took to enter the country. More space, better views, and with the added benefits of sleeping prone in a real bed for the night. We we are in a little town now (swarmed with bats) with a winding road geared toward a very transient population that spends only one night. To stretch our legs we ventured further down the road and saw neumerious repair shops, a little fruit market and a police station with Communist symbols all over. When we got of the boat a few hours ago there were numerous touts who we pushed past, heading in the opposite direction up a hill to a nice looking pace ($5 per night) that bakes its own baguettes. James will tell you that I caused him panic this morning by running to the boat at almost the last minute with our sandwiches in hand. He had gotten in line early (responsibly) and secured us tickets and good seats near the from while I scoped out food for our 9 hour ride. Fortunately I made it in time! Lucking going in our direction (to Thailand) is the lesstraveled route so we look forward to spacious accommodations on the boat again tomorrow.

Today we took a fantastic cooking class at the Tum Tum Cheng Restaurant and cooking school in Luang Prabang (northern Laos). To start the morning at 8am, we shopped at the huge market (open from 4am till 2pm) and then learned how to properly prepare about 7 dishes, all really fresh and delicious. The key components in Laos cooking are lemon grass, ginger, chili peppers, galangal (root that looks like ginger but tastes more like a spicy mustard) and keffier lime leaves. For a couple dishes, those were combined to make a really flavorful paste (we used it in coconut soup, vegetable curry and fish steamed in banana leaves, which we learned to fold into little boat like baskets). We also learned about sticky rice (a staple here, rolled into a ball the size of a walnut and used to sop up soup and liquidy dishes) and how to make fresh and fried spring rolls. The five hour affair came to a close with a ten-dish feast, and a home made pineapple liquor which helped my head and body aches from taking the Malarone (which has not been agreeing with me). Or I just liked the sweet flavor.

We arrived in this lovely international town yesterday after a 12 hour bus ride from the capital city of Vientiane. During our day there, we had tasty Indian food, visited the poorly maintained national museum where we read about the French colonization and US imperialism (how US imperialists imported weapons to their “puppets” in the counter-revolution) and about the 32 different ethnic groups that compose the culture in Laos and took out 1million money units (1USD$ is equal to 10,000kip) from the bank. When the bus made the climb through the mountains, we saw the fog rolling over the lush hills, impoverished families, and stilt houses. The road was a mix of packed dirt with stretches of asphalt, The villages had electricity (at least, living essentially on the highway sidewalk), but no running water. Children walked from far away carrying jugs and baskets; adults were squatting outside their huts washing their face into the road. Most huts had walls made of woven bands of thatch, but some were without, like freestanding canapy bed platforms, with sleepers atop. We passed endless flooded rice fields, and women selling fruit and bowls of rice along the road.

Luang Prabang is probably one of the most beautiful cities we’ve visited so far. And there is great coffee (made from opium… fields)! This area also has a number of eco-tourism outfits and even more NGO run shops of local crafts. Shops like those rival the night market that is stall after stall of souvenirs. We are not sure who makes therm or how, but it is unlikely that the claims of hand made can apply to everything. Here we have reliable Internet, no rain so far but no swimming pools. Tomorrow we will set off on a 2 day boat ride up the Mekong River back into Thailand, our destination is Chiang Mai.

(James’s perspective:) Johanna’s computer is in a coma. It got sick in Ayuthaya and slowly got worse until it could barely open its screen.

I am happy to say that I have now been the proud meal of leeches! They were mentioned by our book in passing, but we had no idea they would be as abundant as ants, inching up our pant legs and squeezing through our socks. Our legs look like little battlefields with bloody explosions when an overly amourous critter drank more than his fill.

After a few hours of mud and rain, overgrown paths, cold, suspect food, and monkeys chilling on the road, we decided to head home. The sky instantly cleared, the moment we succeeded in hitching a ride for the 20 kilometers back to our hotel (called a resort, but their pool was the only thing that stayed dry).

Our kind car hosts were a nice English teacher and her family. He son had bought two wooden elephants from the same mall we’d explored two days before. What looked like a BBQ, which we wondered at while waiting for a ride in at the gate entrance, turned out to be a spirit house. Johanna immediately assumed that meant liquor, but somehow that wouldn’t have been able to explain the constant stream of people bringing mated pairs of animal statues and burning incense in witch-worthy cauldrons. The elephant was to symbolize strength and bring good luck to the son, but we never found out why he needed it so much to drive the 2.5 hours to the park from Bangkok (it took us twice as long, but no matter). Instead, we talked about the wonderful-sounding resort the English teacher’s father runs (it started as his home, but he found that he was hosting people so often that he decided to throw in his hat).

On the way to Thailand’s second-largest city, we decided to throw in our own hats, and drop our plans to go to the great Khmer temples of Phimai. Instead, we hopped from one bus to another, arriving to a sleeping Nong Khai, the fun village across the great Mekong from Lao. We cross the border tomorrow!

A hotel purporting itself as a resort (and even by Lonely Planet on a Shoe String’s standards) ought to have the swimming pool it promises, showers that work and reliable internet. The staff was very friendly (I give them that) and the price better (about $10) than we had been spending, but the amenities were limited. We were told that the swimming pool was being cleaned (hard to believe when there were tons of leaves and mold that looked months old building up) the shower head was not attached to anything and looked suspiciously like the water hoses used to clean one’s bottom (standard toilet practice here is to use this hose like tool) and as for the internet, though the router was off (no blinky lights) we were told that there were just too many guests trying to get on line. There were only about 9 people staying there!

On the positive side: it rained non stop for the 2 days. Ok, fine, if pressed: I taught James how to play ping pong. That was fun.

We stayed about 10 km outside the National Park which our guide describes a vast an mostly uncharted jungle with the spiritual white elephant. I would also add awash in mud and leaches. James had a great time exploring off the trails and I was a bit irritable (in my defense justifiably so until we bought the leach socks)since my blood was being sucked and I was soaking wet and feeling dubious about the elephants. In fact it was too wet for them but we did see some red-butt monkeys on the road on our way into the park. We slogged on for several hours and then caught a ride(after learning the signal for hitchhiking is waving your hand up and down) from lovely teachers from BK. We’ve continued north (after a 7 hour bus ride) and are now staying along the Maekong river near the Friendship Bridge connecting Thailand and Laos. Tomorrow we hope to cross over and spend some time there, completing out loop of the north east.

Great news from Toh’s mom came in and she graciously offered to host us after August 19th so Burma will now be our last stop!

A bit of sad news: my mac died. Well is seriously on the brink. We thought it only need the OS disk to reboot the hard drive but now it is not responding at all. When we are back in BK we will have it looked at but for now that means I type on Ralph (my tiny computer) and James finds an internet cafe. We might have to send the computer back. I hope that it can be saved, it’s served me well since junior year.

Today we were surprised by a processional of university students, some in traditional dress bearing elaborate flower arrangements in the shape of Buddha’s head, some cross-dressing and some as representatives of their food science program holding appetizer-laden dishes with a suspended paper mache chef’s hat. Oh just a typical morning. As I type surrounded by tranquil sounds (well, the ethereal music and interior pond of our guest house, Shanti Lodge, episodicly interrupted by a tuk-tuk motoring past) I have a fantastic coffee in my hands (not nest cafe instant like I feared) and James and I, up hours before the farangs (tourists\westerners) will try to recap the past few days.

A few observations: The streets are very clean and the government is invested in upkeep, several times we saw planters being washed and pillars repainted, polite dress entails covering your arms to the elbow for men and women when entering temples and Bangkok is relatively calm—no street pushing! Most everyone wears flip flops, very few (I think I have only seen 3) people wear glasses, KFC, McDonalds TESCO and 7-11 are prominent brands (to be continued)

Now back to work (James has been programing away) before we get a bus to Ayuthaya later today.

Pardon this interruption: while working a gaggle of 13 year old girls approached me for an interview about school. The line of questioning was simple: how old was I, how long had I been in school etc. When they found out I was not in school (never mind my attempts to relay that I had graduated and was working) they told me to ‘stay in school, for good girls’ then proceeded to take several photos. Maybe they have a good point there!