The Gulf of Thailand PT. 1

by Matthew Luk Posted on June 15, 2013

So as some of you may know I’m actually in the middle of traveling. In Jerusalem at the moment and moving onto Nazareth tomorrow via Tel Aviv tonight. Then onto Jordan for a week before hopping over to Sharm el-Sheihk for 5 days of diving and maybe visiting Mt. Sinai. After that I’ll probably fly to Cairo. The plan after that is less clear. But I’ll probably only stay a couple of days there before moving onto Istanbul. Probably won’t go to Kurdistan. Instead, maybe I’ll do a shorter road trip along the Ionian coast.

Anyways, it being shabbat in Jerusalem I didn’t have much to do… So I wrote a little more on Thailand. But I didn’t finish the story by any means. And it’s proving difficult to get my Dropboxed pictures onto here, so no pictures for now…

From Siem Reap I was to go directly to Koh Tao in the Gulf of Thailand by way of Bangkok and Chumphon. I had optimistically booked a train that left Bangkok at 730 PM before I really understood what I was doing. I left Siem Reap around 8:30 AM after grabbing a couple of sandwiches to go. The plan was to take a shared van to the border at Poipet, cross the border, and continue on with a prearranged bus to Bangkok. The official ETA was 5:00 PM. As you may have guessed, the reality was a little different. The trip to the border was easy enough, though the driver had some difficulties working the air conditioning system. And, of course, we had to stop at the same little road side shop. We arrived at the border around 11 AM or so. I made a beeline for the check-point…which in retrospect maybe saved me 3 minutes. Anyways, I passed through Cambodian immigration quite breezily and then walked across the casino strip to the Thai checkpoint, where there must have been at least a thousand people packed into a tight cluster, all waiting to pass. There were a good number of foreigners, but the majority of the people looked to be either Thai or Cambodian. There was a line/channel designated for Thai nationals, but the sign was widely disregarded. Everyone waited in one equally stifling and morale draining line. Eventually, the one giant line split into 3 channels, and every 10 minutes or so maybe 10 people from each channel were admitted into the actual immigration pavilion…where more lines await. But at least there was shade and fans inside. Oh yeah, it was brutally sunny and well over 110 degrees outside this whole time. I think I made it inside by 2:30 PM, and that’s only because I unscrupulously but discretely cut off a whole bunch of people right before the line actually became well defined.

Meanwhile, I did make friend with a couple from Australia. He was from New Zealand and she was from England, but they now live in Australia together. I don’t really remember their names, but his was something short and hers was something simple. And no, that’s not just based on what I thought of them in general. Let’s call them Steve and Lisa? Why those, I’m not sure. Anyways. Steve was a doctor and Lisa a nurse, a highly trained nurse of some sort. They’re married and are experienced divers. They were heading to northeastern coast of the Thai peninsula for some live abroad diving. North of Phuket and right next to Myanmar. First they were going to stop in Bangkok and stay with some Japanese restaurantaur they  met while traveling elsewhere. We chatted about a myriad of things while waiting for those 3 hours and I learned more about scuba diving and also my potential future traveling as a person with more disposable income but also the same taste for adventure. We also talked a bit about medicine…and I came upon the idea of becoming an infectious disease specialist. Throughout the conversations I got the feeling that Steve was trying to ditch me/be less engaging, even though he was very engaging and interesting when he did chime in. But as we were stuck in a never ending line, there weren’t many opportunities for him to shake me.

The actual process of passing through the checkpoint went smoothly for me. I am almost certain that all the delays were due to the fact that the Thais did not want illegal immigration from Cambodia, so Cambodian nationals were questioned quite extensively. Much like the US-Mexico border I’d assume. But with less manpower and/or training to handle the load. Things would have been easier for tourists if there was a dedicated  lane for us. That makes a lot of sense if the government wanted to expedite the process, but they don’t really have all that much incentive to do so. People who want to visit Cambodia will do so anyways, regardless of the hassle. Especially as flying into Siem Reap is a viable option for most. Those who cannot or do not want to pay for a flight, are usually ok with suffering in the sun for a bit. There is also the ethical/moral issue of treating tourists as a different category of humans. Why do we deserve better treatment? But in a way, the question isn’t if we deserve better treatment, but rather if the Cambodians deserve worse. And in a way, there are legitimate reasons for the Thai authorities to be weary of uncontrolled immigration by their neighbors. In any case, I would have appreciated a separate line for tourists, but I can very clearly understand why the situation is the way it is.

All this philosophical rationalizing, however, did not change the fact that I had to catch my 7:30 PM train in Bangkok. It was maybe 3:00 PM when I finally stepped into Thailand, and alas, I had to wait for the rest of my “group” to pass before the bus would roll out. Well, actually, as soon as any bus is full it would roll out. But none of them are near full at this point. My two friends had a different color sticker on their shirts, and presumably paid more. They were just waiting for a van to get full. So I haggle with one of the touts who seemed to be in charge and got my sticker changed. Instead of waiting God knows how long, I only waited 40 minutes. And I got a beer in the meantime. It wouldn’t have been all that unpleasant if I wasn’t trying to catch a train. We got into the van around 3:40 and waited another 20 minutes or so before we finally left. The driver was a grumpy Thai who decided/or in fact spoke little or no English. A Chinese Thai man, about 50, sat shotgun, then there was me and my friends (actually I think I remember her name was Stephanie now), two other white tourists, and an unspecified number of East Asians. We left at 4:00. It takes roughly 3 hrs and 30 min to get to Bangkok. My train was at 7:30 PM. Perfect timing for worrying my ass off.

I resisted the temptation and chatted with Stephanie as we rolled along the noticeably more developed Thai countryside. I slept for maybe 30 minutes. We stopped at a gas station and I got hot pockets filled with tuna. We drove on and into Bangkok. We passed the train station around 7:25 PM. But the ornery van driver would not stop, despite the entreaties/threats of those two white girls. I had long given up hope on catching that train, transferring most of it to the prospect of a later train, or just crashing in Bangkok for the night. I had long sank into a , “goddamnit I don’t give a fuck, just let me at some food and maybe a coffee” stage. The driver pulled over, signaled for us to get out, and started to drive off with my pack still in the van. I finally gave him a piece of my mind. He stopped, but not long enough for me to get usable contact info from Stephanie. Steve wasn’t being particularly helpful. I hopped off, wandered in a circle and found the BTS station, took it to the train station, and arrived around 8:05 PM. Unfortunately for me, my train actually left on time. Fortunately, there was another train, leaving at 11:00 PM, that arrived at Chumphon around the same time. It only had seats, not couchettes, but I would be able to catch the same ferry to Koh Tao. I wasn’t able to exchange my old ticket, but my pre-purchased ferry ticket was still valid. So I only really lost $10 or so.

After finding some Dunkin’ Donuts, I went outside and feasted on some roasted pork knuckles and rice.

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Cambodia

by Matthew Luk Posted on June 4, 2013

Cambodia. Land of milk and honey this is not. But much like the Holy Lands, this is a place filled with monumental everything, echoing with silent murmurs of faded triumphs and dark tragedies.

Once again, I’ll leave it to wikipedia to explain the full history of the place. In summary, the temples of the Angkor complex were built by the Khmer Empire, who ruled a substantial section of SE Asia from maybe 802 AD 1432. This was the golden age of Cambodia and perhaps of the entire region. The empire stretched from the border of modern India to the Malay Peninsula across Vietnam and north to Yunan and southern China. While this may pale in comparison to the Chinese, Roman, Macedonian, Mongolian, or British Empires, the Khmers were nonetheless a power to reckon with at their peak. The Khmer were generally considered a warlike people who adhered to a version of Hinduism as oppose to the later Buddhism that became dominant in Thailand/Siam. The ethnic Khmers were always more closely aligned to India, by the way of Java, than to China. The script and spoken language, as far as I can tell, is much more Indocentric than Sinocentric. Thai, on the other hand, sounds very much like Cantonese and other southern Chinese dialect to my untrained ears. The Khmers are a far older lineage than the Thai, who came down from Yunnan not too long ago. After the decline of the Khmer Empire, the area of modern Cambodia was alternatively dominated by the ascendent Thai and Vietnamese empires until the French arrived and offered “protection” in exchange for trade etc. Cambodia became part of French Indochina along with Vietnam (which explains the delicious bread and cheap coffee). The Japanese took over for a bit, independence was granted by the French, and a struggling republic got caught up in the geopolitical fiasco known as the Vietnam War.

Chaos and no small amount of American meddling brought the Khmer Rouge into power. The Khmer Rouge was possibly the very epitome of brutal dictatorships, which says a lot. Upon consolidating power, their leader, Pol Pot, literally evacuated the capital city. Every single person in Phnom Phen was relocated into the countryside. Those who refused, or dallied, were simply shot and left to rot. Perhaps a quarter of the population was killed by their own government in less than five years. The victorious Communist Vietnamese army invaded before too long and too over much of the countryside. The Americans supported the opposition, including the Khmer Rouge. Somehow peace was forged and Pol Pot purged enough of his supporters to lose his grip on power. A coalition government, including many former Khmer Rouge members, was formed. The last bloody coup occurred in 1997, and pockets of Khmer Rouge insurgents were active until the early 2000′s.

I woke up on 4/17 at around 6:00 AM, excited and anxious to start my journey. I figured I should get an early start as it will take at best a very long time to get to Siem Reap in Cambodia  (the “life support system for Angkor Wat and the most developed city in the country), and at worse, literally forever. Having considered my options I decided to take a government bus to the Thai-Cambodia border and continue on from there via shared taxi. From Bangkok to the border should take around 4-5 hrs. It’s 2.5 hrs or so from there to Siem Reap. If this was America and I drove that same distance (406 KM), it would take maybe 4 hrs. I estimate that it will take somewhere between 10-11 hrs from the bus station in Bangkok to a room in Siem Reap. Call it 12 hrs door to door.

Deduction by chronotweet proves me to be oh so very good at predicting travel times after I recalculated after getting to the Bangkok bus depot (note that the times are off by +11 hrs):

First tweet sent from breakfast at Hotel Reno, second from my room after checking in at Shadow of Angkor guesthouse.

So you might wonder where the 4.5 hrs of extra travel time came from. Well, +1 from getting from the hotel to the bus station, via BTS, some ill advised walking, and cab. +0.5 from getting my bus ticket and waiting for the bus. +0.5 for slow bus to the border. +0.75 for the actual border crossing. +1 for transiting from the border to the “International Bus Depot” and my final ride into Siem Reap. +0.75 for getting downtown and finding my desired accommodation. Totaling 4.5 extra hrs, combined with the 7.5 hrs listed transit time equals 12 hrs.

The $8 bus out towards the border town of Aranyaprathet  (wow google is on top of this foreign names shit, autocorrecting even for that) was super air conditioned and smooth. The roads in Thailand were smooth. It looked much like the Taiwanese countryside with fairly well organized concrete towns every so often. We stopped for snacks, gas, and bathrooms a few time. There were also a two or three military checkpoints as we got closer to the border, checking for illegal Cambodian immigrants/workers. ID cards of any SE Asian looking persons were inspected. Apparently I passed for being Western/Chinese and did not have to whip out my passport.

The bus went all the way to the border, I only had to walk 500m or so to get out of Thailand. LP and many online sources warned me extensively about touts and other enterprising individuals who would offer to take care of visas and all paperwork for me and then charge me an exuberant sum. No one bothered me despite my obvious tourist backpack. Guess my mean face worked. And the fact that I maintained purposeful forward momentum, regardless of if I actually knew where I was going. It took maybe 5 minutes to pass through Thai immigration and cross this bridge across no-man’s land.

Cambodia beckons beyond that ceremonial gateway. I follow the signs to the visa on arrival office, produced my passport and passport photo and a just-crisp-enough $20. Some banter and knowing smiles directed towards the immigration officers milling around and an extra $10 for their troubles turned into a nice visa, personally signed by Maj. Hor Sith just for me. Chuckling inwardly at the various confused fellow tourists around me, I moved on to the actual Cambodia immigration post past the little strip of Special Economic Zone where I had been. Apparently Thai tourists come here by the busload and unload piles of cash straight into the row of casinos lining the road without a need to enter Cambodia proper. Cambodian immigration was also smooth and relatively efficient. It was in this line that I started to realize that not all backpackers are the same. By defining myself as a backpacker I hope to separate myself from the package tourists exemplified by the omnipresent and obnoxious Chinese and American hordes. But at the same time, I may have more in common with those people than I did with any given dreadfully smelly and smelltatically dreaded hermit I run into. While I do envy people who can travel for years at a time…I have come to realized that they have sacrificed far more than I would be willing to remain on the road for so long. It’s nice to have a home. It’s nice to feel clean once in awhile. Onward.

Past the final checkpoint, I had to find my way to Siem Reap, 151 KM away. LP tells me the transport to Siem Reap, or at least out of the border town of Poipet, is runned by a taxi mafia/cartel of sorts. While this seems antithetical to my good capitalist ideal of free-competition, in reality it might actually lead to increase efficiency in the current context. But, “fuck the man”, I thought to myself and strode down the muddy road alone. As foretold by LP, a man followed me and asked me what I was doing and if he can offer me a ride. I said no, I was just looking for a bite to eat. It was true, I was very hungry…but the only food cart I encountered was unacceptably unhygienic, even to me. Unfazed, I walked on, determined find a private taxi out on the highway. People catcalled at me. One man asked me if I was going to the moon, probably because they’ve never seen anyone drink from a camelbak before. It was raining. Eventually I swallowed my misplaced moral pride and turned back, looking for the free cartel operated shuttle bus to the cartel operated bus station some kilometers down the road. It had already pulled out from the border post, but I hopped on as it passed me.

At the station, I asked about the next bus to Siem Reap and was told it will be $9 and it should leave in 30 minutes or so. What about a shared taxi? $40 for the whole car, none currently available. I pondered. I walked to the departure area and spot a van loading up and asked the man seemingly in charge if I could get in. After some haggling, I got shotgun for $15. Nice. However…we had to wait for 2 more passengers. Apparently most people arranged their transportation beforehand and pay significantly for this convenience. Which is understandable, if not for the also significant risk of handing your money over and never seeing anything in return. I prefer to deal face to face and step by step in these situations. While we waited I had a nice chat with a younger Swedish kid (innocently douchey), some older Brazilians (intrepid but boring), and a couple of more worthwhile Swedish dudes (chill, but trying a bit hard). Finally, our two missing passengers (overwhelmed and Asian) arrived and we were off.

The driver spoke very little English, though I suspect he understood more than he let on. I tried to establish some rapport with him before attempting to doze off. Alas, I was still too excited to sleep. The landscape between Poipet and Siem Reap was flat as a pancake, with the occasional (man made?) mounds. I wondered if this was forested at one point, or maybe it’s always been too dry. The road, recently paved, was plenty smooth. My man turned out to be a good enough driver, and even seemed apologetic when he pulled into the mandatory rest stop/store owned by the cartel. It took more than a few “c’mon man” stares from me and “sorry brother, it’s not up to me” looks from him before we got back on our way. In reality he probably just waited the prescribed amount of time before leaving. The dumb Swedish kid couldn’t stop talking about how indignant he felt at being charge $5 for a can of pringles in order to use the bathroom. What did you expect, kid? Just piss in the street if you can’t hold it. He also made some comments about how worthless the Cambodian reals were and how he should just use it as toilet paper. Good one. Oh, and for whatever reason neither him or the Brazilians would believe me when I told them that USD was the defacto currency of the country (because Pol Pot actually banned all forms of monetary instruments in his time), and even bahts would be accepted in Siem Reap. They went ahead and changed money at the bus station, paying at least 5x the normal commission. Sometimes I don’t know why I try to help people. There are those who don’t read LP because their ignorant, and those who spurn all guides because they are “too experienced”. All are fools. More information never hurts, as long as one is a capable winnower. And if one cannot winnow, one should stick to guide books anyways.

Siem Reap, which literally means “Siam (Thailand) Defeated,” is a bustling metropolis and veritable tourist heaven. It sits pretty squarely on the sweet spot between overly developed and inconveniently rustic. Despite its troubled past, the Cambodian government has done quite an excellent job with the city, which just goes to show how important Angkor is to the collective national conscience. The town itself is a few kilometers south of the archeological park and is sprawled out over a decent area. Fortunately, the main tourist hub, around Pub Street and the old market square, is very compact. Cheap, delicious, and sanitary restaurants abound. I can get a cocktail for $3 and a beer for 50 cents, even in town. The entire district is blanketed by free wifi provided by the various restaurants, cafes, and hotels. Siem Reap may be the most internet friendly place I’ve ever been (other than on campus). There is also a huge array of accommodations available, ranging from rat infested closets to the Four Season.

I rode into town on my first tuk-tuk moto-taxi with the two Swedish dudes. They were looking for a bus to take them to the south and onward to some Beach beach. We moto’d around and went to the hostel/hotel the duo stayed at last time around. It was far too corporate and large for my taste, so I went off on my own after they sorted out their bus ticket. Following LP’s advice, I settled on the Shadow of Angkor guesthouse, operated by a matronly old lady and her, presumably, family members. I wasn’t too impressed by my windowless room, but agreed to stay for $15. I told them I will let them know tomorrow if I wanted to stay on. After tweeting news of my arrival and taking a quick rinse, I went in search of food. All I had that day besides breakfast was a bag of chips, a snickers bar, and some coke. Dinner was tasty and uneventful, after which I promptly went to bed.

I had hope to make it to Angkor in time for the sunrise next morning, but it would seem that the sun rises way too early for that in the summer/spring months. Nonetheless, I mounted my noble steed at dawn-ish and rode north towards the temples. Prior to departing, I had to sort out my room for the night as my indecision the night before caused me to lose my room. I had to either stay in an AC-less room, or pony up an extra $10 for a larger room with a window, which won’t be available until later in the afternoon. Choosing the  latter, I had to go upstairs and pack my bag prior to departing. They would move me into my new room while I was gone. Ok. And this is, hopefully, for yours and mine sanity both, where I can let the pictures do most of the talking.

 

Angkor Wat proper:

 

Small brick temple, on the road to Angkor Thom/Bayon:

 

Angkor Thom/Bayon:

Ta Prohm:

 

This is where the drivers and guides waited while their customers had lunch. I accepted the invitation to take a nap as well:

 

Angkor Wat, redux:

(actually a 50 mp composite…but dunno where I can upload that in full res)

As you might imagine, biking around in the sun can get pretty hot and tiring. I must have drank more than 6 liters of water while out at the temples. Also, someone cut the flimsy bike lock I was given while I explored Bayon. They cut the lock and left everything. Maybe someone happened upon him while he was carrying out his dastardly deed, but my personal explanation is that he thought “hey, fuck you mister fancy pants foreigner, Cambodian people don’t steal things. Here, look, I could have easily stolen your bike but I chose not to!”. But maybe that’s just me. When I returned to Angkor in the afternoon I asked a policeman to keep an eye out for my bike, which he reluctantly agreed to do after ineffectively trying to convince me no one would steal my bike.

The sites were busy, but not mobbed by any means. I suppose smart people who plan their vacations tend to come during the cooler months. There were, however, more than enough obnoxious Chinese tour groups to go around. I returned to my guesthouse around 6. Feeling incredibly dusty I asked if I could use the pool at Shadow of Angkor 2, across the river. I was told I would have to pay $5. Ugh. I went looking for it anyways but got lost and found a rooftop pool instead. Sadly I had neither my camera nor my phone. The sunset over the city was spectacular. Guess that one’s for my own enjoyment only. Well, me and Matt Peel, the English dude that I met on said roof. He had been traveling Asia for a few weeks with his girlfriend (who had recently gone back home for work) and spent all day recuperating and nursing his hangover. Apparently some American drank him well under the table.  We agreed to meet up in 40 minutes or so for dinner.

Dinner was spent quizzing this Englishmen about the subtle differences between British and American sports culture. We also got ice cream and ran into that dumb Swedish kid, who seemed to be enjoying himself well enough. Being an old man at age 26 or so, British Matt went off to bed after that. I went to a bar for trivia night. The trivia was impossible, but I did manage to find a pair of teammates. One American and one Dutch. Both younger than me, and both rather clueless. Nice enough chaps, but fortunately they were equally as inept at trivia…which lead me to the bar for more drinks which led me into the company of two Canadian girls. Both of whom were crazy, in mostly the good way. They were classmates from university. One of them has “traveled” for a whole year, spending most of her time in working in Australia, then lived in Canada for another, and is now back on the road. She had, and in all likelihood, has, strong opinions on a variety of topics. The other just finished nine months of teaching English in S. Korea. She loves Koreans, Korean babies, and all things Korean, and dancing. Trivia was followed by 2nd dinner, drinking, and then dancing. I went to bed no earlier than 4 AM. Now I see why Matt hung out by the pool all day.

Alas, I don’t have months upon months of time to laze my way through Asia. So I woke up at a reasonable hour (10?) and considered my options. I could charter a moto-taxi and head to Banteay Srei, one of the more remote and better preserved temples, or I could do something less strenuous. One thing I knew for sure, I wanted to go for a sunset horseback ride. So I called up the ranch and booked myself a 5:00 PM ride in order both catch the sunset and dinner with the Canadian girls. What was I to do before that? LP, once again, came through. I would visit Artisan d’Angkor and pick up some worthwhile souvenirs, and if I had time, check out the official Angkor Wat museum on the outskirts of town.

The Artisan d’Angkor program/workshop was an exemplary demonstration on the value of effective cooperation between the government and NGO of developed countries and the people and government of Cambodia. The program is officially sponsored by both the EU and the French government. It provides valuable training for local artisans and a well developed apprenticeship program to keep the artistic traditions alive. Skills such as lacquering, wood carving, stone carving, painting, weaving, and jewelry making are passed onto the younger generation while providing an excellent income and stable employment for many. All in all, it was a very professional operation. I was impressed by not only the products, but also the facilities and staff. And damn, they even have an online store. Highly recommended.

The Angkor Museum was also a worthwhile stop. The architecture was fine and the exhibits detailed. Photography, unfortunately, was forbidden. It’s a nice place to learn more background on the magnificent temples as well as Khmer history and beliefs in general.  Parts of it were even air-conditioned. My visit, as is often the case, was cut short by hunger.

I went back into town for a bite to eat before heading out to the ranch. I got a little taste of Siem Reap: the local city while enroute. I walked through many a residential streets and even got briefly trapped in someone’s courtyard. Alas, once again, it proved overly ambitious to walk to my destination. It didn’t help that the ranch was not where LP thought it was. And few locals spoke good enough English out here to understand “horse”, let alone “ranch”. Eventually I was able to flag down a moto-taxi and after he took me to a buddy’s roadhouse for translation, we were merrily on our way. Turns out I walked past the place twice.

I arrived at Happy Ranch around 6:00 PM and was promptly informed that it was too late to go out. Something about the horse being unable to see in the dark and the tackle being put away. For some reason this totally had not occurred to me before…that a horse can’t see in the dark. I suppose I can’t see in the dark either, but that has never stopped me from prowling the night. I suppose horses aren’t much for prowling. But after some desperate and pitiful pleading, the manager lady agreed to let me go out for a half hour. I was overjoyed. My guide John and I took a short ride through the countryside, and yes, I did catch the sunset. Just in time.

Having ridden only 2-3 times for a total of no more than 3 hrs, I did pretty well. Though fear for my camera limited my trotting…and fear for my life prevented me from galloping. Nevertheless, it was an awesome experience. And it provided me with perhaps the funniest portraits of me in existence. Perhaps.

It was dark when we returned to the stables. I checked out the new foals and chatted to the owner, Mr. Sary Pann and Mary, a British girl from Hong Kong who was volunteering there, for awhile. Mr Pann used to work in the American embassy in Phnom Phen and spent the tumultuous years around the Khmer Rouge period in San Jose, CA. Happy Ranch is apparently the only ranch in the country. The Khmers were never really horse people. Mr. Pann offered me a lift back to town on his scooter, but as we were about to leave some family member or another arrived and he had to take her and her baby home instead. I caught a ride with the driver who dropped them off.

Arriving back in town shortly after 7 PM I hustled towards my rendezvous, little did I know I was in the process of being stood up. I ran into the two Canadian girls just as they were leaving, having gotten takeout. One of them, the former English teacher, had complained the night before that someone stole her sneakers (along with $400) a few days ago and she was really bummed and couldn’t find anywhere to get replacements at a decent price. Me being me, I remembered this, and while I was wandering around town earlier that day, made note of the two sneaker stores I passed along with their hours and inventory. Well, turns out they also found out about the stores and my painstakingly undertaken reconnaissance was all for naught. And they had to go before the store closed, and they were feeling really hungover and therefore going to bed early. Toodles. Ok fine.

I sat down and had a free beer with a bunch of overaged Texan bros we met the night before to plan my next move. Then I went and showered and then out for dinner by my lonesome. Then I met Ciran the Irishman, had some drinks with him, and then resumed dancing. We tried to convince people we were brothers…and some people actually believed us. Or so it seemed. We also tried to guess everyone’s nationality, and he would always guess “Swiss” for whatever reason. I found this to be hilarious, especially when one, very attractive if I may add, girl turned out to be actually Swiss. Met quite a few fellow Americans, among others. This was undoubtedly the highest concentration of Americans I encountered my whole trip. Maybe it’s the Wild West feel that is so attractive to us. Met an  bonafide American expat from Hotlanta…and only belatedly realize I should’ve stuck with him to keep tabs on the after party instead of bumbling all over town on the advice of some tuk-tuk driver. I did run into Mr. Hotlanta again later, however by that point sobriety had sapped my spirits and I had to make my way to bed once more.

“Is that the sunrise or just light pollution?”

Woke up at oh, 7 AM to begin my epic return to Thailand. I was to make it back to Bangkok by 7:30 PM and catch my pre-arranged night train to Chumphon, arriving around 6:30 AM and catching the ferry to Koh Tao, arriving at 11:00 AM. I would spend that day recuperating, and start diving the following day.

It worked out, more or less. To be continued…

More pictures on Google Plus, here.

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Bangkok

by Matthew Luk Posted on June 3, 2013

Ah, Bangkok. The first thing I heard about this city was “get out of it as soon as possible.” The second was that it’s hot as balls, all day, every day. And in retrospect, those were pretty much my impressions as well. The only person who I met who actually liked Bangkok was Sergey, the Dive Master in Training (DMT) that helped out with my scuba courses. And he lives in a small Russian city in Siberia, so I think cities, especially free flowing cities such as Bangkok, may have had a disproportionate appeal.

That being said, it’s definitely worth it to spend a couple of days in Bangkok. There are quite a number of impressive temples and the city really is incredibly energetic, which is doubly (triply?) impressive when taking into account the oppressive heat. It simply was no fun to explore when it’s sweltering out. But, given a few days of acclimatization and better planning, I’m sure it can be more bearable. Not only did I arrive at the hottest time of the year, Bangkok was also my first foray into the Southeast Asian tropics. While it does get hot in Taiwan, April there is still pleasantly cool in comparison.

First impression: damn that’s a huge plane:

Ok, that’s really just in Hong Kong, but it’s still super impressive. I planned to fly Thai Airways just so I can try out the new(ish) Airbus A380s. It’s by far the largest commercial airliner in existence. What did I think? It’s pretty awesome. I suppose the interior fixtures/actual experience isn’t much improved over regular sized planes. But it was truly awe inspiring. At least to me. And the landing was buttery smooth…not sure if that’s due to engineering or just good piloting.

First impression of Thailand…the terminals aren’t AC’d! Neither are subway platforms and other large public indoor spaces. Lame. I suppose I was really slipping into the developing world at last. Also they have these very strange automated walkways that have varying pitch. Dunno what the purpose of that is other than to make me confused.

At this point I had to figure out how to get downtown from the airport. There are rail-links. So I hear. Some wandering led me to the station, but there are two options available. I went for the one that mentioned “express”. Little did I know that it wouldn’t come for another good 50 minutes. And that the plastic token I got would not work for the local train. Dumb. It should be the same token and same platform. Alas. I had to return/exchange my blue token for a red one (the staff was marginally helpful) and hustle down to the local platform before the train got there.

After a few stops I realized that songkran, the Thai New Year celebration, was in fact still going on. Meaning I was liable to be assaulted by youths with water guns and aromatic chalk anywhere and everywhere. All of the locals had their electronics in little waterproof pouches. I did not. Growing apprehensive, I tried to look as mean and intimidating as possible to preempt a spontaneous soaking. I got off downtown and tried to transfer from the Airport Line to an intra-city elevated rail line, the BTS or Skytrain. Unfortunately, the BTS and Airport Line are operated by different entities and I would have to purchase another ticket/token to get to my destination. Dumb. Good thing my dad had gave me some extra bahts so I didn’t have to worry about exchanging money/making change.

Transferred, rode the BTS for 2 stop, then decided to transfer to the (only) other BTS line and take that for 1 stop rather than hoofing an extra 500 m in the oh 110F heat. Did have to wait an extra 8 minutes on the 100F platform though, so it was pretty much a wash. Finally roll up at my mid-budget hotel, the Reno Hotel. No AC in the corridors, but thank god, AC in my spare but clean and spacious room. I quickly hopped in the shower to cool off.

After clearing my mind and washing away some of the accumulated sweat I decided to head out on the town for a little look-see. No particular plan, just to walk to the river and find food at some point. Figuring it would cool off at least a little (wrong) I wore a pretty heavy dark t-shirt and set off. I had to leave my key with the front desk, which was a bit sketchy, but nonetheless carried out. It was maybe 6 PM at this point.

I quickly bypassed the built up and commercial district around Siam Sq., where I was staying, and headed west towards the river. I figured maybe I will eat in Chinatown. After walking for close to an hour through mostly empty residential streets…I found more empty residential streets. It took me awhile to realize that I was actually walking parallel to the river as it runs east-west around the southern reaches of downtown. I turn left. Then right. Then despaired.  I had woken up at 4 AM that morning, after all. And I was fucking hungry. Making my way further west I managed to run into the train station and took the opportunity to book my overnight train ticket from Bangkok to Chumphon for later that week. From Chumphon I was to catch the connecting ferry to Koh Tao and the islands. Feeling satisfied with myself and slightly superior to the befuddled tourist groups milling around the station I stopped at a street vendor for some delicious grilled chicken thighs, served with an optional ball of sticky rice. Dank.

Spirits buoyed, I continued west in search of the river. I crossed a few canals and finally sighted my objective. Alas, it was blocked by some heavy highways. I turn north and run into the allegedly famous flower market. While the amount of variety of flowers for sale was truly stunning, it was entirely a wholesale affair and the average tourist chump like me wouldn’t and didn’t get much out of it. It did last forever though. Feeling a bit parched, I stopped by a 7-Eleven for some refreshment. It so happened there was a mother and daughter runned deep fried river crab cart right outside. I bought two servings…for maybe 80 bahts ($2.66 at approx 30 baht to the USD). They were a bit cold, but tasty nonetheless. That is, until I sat down near the canal and noticed the hordes of rats scurrying around…and the garbage floating in the canal where my crabs were probably harvested. Hmmm. Oh well. I limited myself to only 2/3 of my crabs and offered the rest to the rats. Time to go to bed, I suppose.

Only I was at least 2 miles from my bed. Turning back, I passed the empty and dark compound of Wat Pho and quite a few buildings of the federal government. I did not pass any restaurants. I only got mildly lost and did happen on a fancy Starbucks masquerading as an historic Thai townhouse. Oh and I got/allowed myself to be chalked and watered, partially to cool off and partially just for the hell of it. That heavy cotton T didn’t dry too well…and I may have left more than one puddle in that Starbucks.

Feeling quite worn out, despite the caffeine infusion, I gave up and took one of the many cabs home. While I do love exploring a city on foot, I was too far gone at this point to do anything other than keep  putting one foot in front of the other. I got back around 10 PM perhaps, maybe 11. The cab cost a good $0.40 or so. I blame my brother for my illogical aversion to cabs. I took a minute to make a quick plan for the next day… and passed the fuck out. So ends 4/14.

4/15 was my first and only full day in Bangkok. Songkran has officially ended so I could actually bring my camera with me. I planned to visit the Jim Thompson House in the morning, eating lunch, and then taking in Wat Pho and maybe another temple/group of temples afterwards. Also planned to check out Khao San Road (KSR), the former backpacker ghetto and current backpacker capital of SE Asia just for kicks. Breakfast was included and delicious but meagre. A+ views as well.

Jim Thompson, for those who spurned my super helpful wikipedia link, was an American designer/businessman/former spy that settled in Thailand after WWII and “revitalized” the then ailing Thai silk industry. He built a rustic but meticulously crafted Thai style house in Bangkok and filled it with choice antiquities from the region. Then he mysteriously disappeared into the jungle. His former house is now a museum, completed with an extensive onsite store, branches of which also exist in the major Thai airports and perhaps overseas as well. Unfortunately photography was not allowed inside the actual house. And all visitors within the house had to be part of a (free) tour group.

Overall it was a pretty great place. Nice and shady too. Mr. Thompson himself is also a bit of an inspirational figure. There was also a cool gallery space above the store showcasing some works by some famous contemporary Thai artist. I forgot his him, but it was pretty interesting. Most of the collection were drafts and sketches unfortunately. Would’ve liked to see the tank made out of giant bowls, casts of left hands, and arm-bone-chopsticks. Or the wall of breasts. I think most of the installations are around Bangkok, but I didn’t get a chance to seek them out.

After JT’s crib I went to find some lunch in supposedly the best food court in Asia (might have been an exaggeration on everyone’s part) according to Lonely Planet. It was harder to find than I expected, and not as exciting as I was led to believe, but satisfying nonetheless. After lunch I took a cab to Wat Pho. It was actually very likely 110F at this point. And sunny as all hells. What’s at Wat Pho you ask? Only the largest reclining Buddha in all of the world.

And a few other temples and such.

And quite a few cats. This was the alpha male, with one eye scratched out and cojones dragging on the floor.

Who knew cats ate rice? I suppose these are Asian cats.

Wat Pho was followed by walking past and not going to the National Palace. Sorry, it was way too hot. I continued straight up towards KSR. On the way, I was hustled by this old lady trying to give me corn to feed the pigeons. Poor play, old lady. 1) I hate pigeons 2) I hate being hustled. Well, it turns out I did give her some money, but nowhere near as much as she wanted. It started as I paused to look over some amulets. She approached me and seemed to offer me a bag of dry corn. I politely refused and shook my head in a firm but understanding manner. She persisted, saying something about it being New Years etc. etc. She thrust the bag into my hand, smiling. I acquiesced. Non-threatening but unwanted physical contact is hard to deal with sometimes. I threw some corn out for the birds and tried to hand the bag back to her. She refused and gestured for me to throw out more grains. I do so, then continued on my way. She yells something like “300 baht” to me and I turn and frown at her, shaking my head firmly and with a wry smile that said “I knew it, I can’t believe I got played,  but fuck if I’m going to pay you.” She wails and squabble. I find some coins, maybe 40 bahts, in my pocket and hand it over with the rest of my corn, turned around and strode off muttering obscenities. She yells some but declined to pursue.

Traveling to Asia is a uniquely strange situation for me. Being of Asian descent I could potentially look like a local in just about any country. If I didn’t wear silly neon and high-tech looking backpacks and obviously Western clothing I could probably blend in most anywhere. I already mentioned that time where I was treated as a second-class tourist/person in Shanghai because of my race but it also has an effect on how much I get hustled walking around SE Asia.  The answer is: less, but still some. But goddamn do I hate being played. If a beggar asks me for money I might give him something, but if someone tries to trick me…it’s over. Maybe s/he gets something if I decide the cost of doing so is less than the general uproar/inconvenience of having s/he follow me around all day. But if someone tries to trick me, thoughts of physical violence, on my part, will undoubtedly pass my mind. Fortunately I’ve been sufficiently adept at controlling my rage in these situations.

As far as what I think of street people and begging in general…I think it’s unfortunate and unfair that people have to make a living that way and I sympathize with their plight as much as any well-off and, dare I say, privileged, first-world citizen can. But at the same time, the world is an unfair and unfortunate place for the most part and there is little use in getting caught up and overwhelmed by this fact. Realistically, and I suppose I’m a realist at heart if anything, one cannot just hand out life-supporting amount of cash to every homeless person one meets. So how do you decide who to help? Should you just help no one at all? Or some of them? But how do you choose? Are you going to extensively interview all of them so you can find the one with the most kids to feed or has the greatest potential to pass on your charity? No. It’s a spur of a moment decision, and anyone who argues differently is, in my opinion, very much delusional. These are the facts of life. And yes, I would like to contribute to alleviating some of the misery in the world, but handing out money to beggars is neither the most efficient nor effective way to do so.

Moving on.

I found KSR, found it completely lacking in everything but tourists and decently priced coffee, and quickly moved on again. I found the river again. And this time there was even a park, built around an old fort or another, to chill at.

Getting hungry, I found a happening rotti spot. So happening that the menu had no English! Some pointing rewarded me with a long wait and two pieces of lackluster tandoori chicken. I wanted chicken innnn a rotti. But I guess I didn’t explain that part. The accompanying rotti was quite delectable though. I unsuccessfully tried to find a nifty gift shop described by Lonely Planet (LP), then walked down another hot and dusty thoroughfare in the general direction of home. Stumbled upon a nice art gallery-esque coffee shop, recharged, and headed towards the “Blue Aspara” or something, a highly rated restaurant in LP. After getting mildly lost again, I found the place, but it was sadly closed…and LP did not respond after I told/tweeted them this fact. Sad. Instead, I went to “the best pad thai” joint in all of Bangkok…and therefore likely the world.

Yes, it was quite delicious. Very delicious in fact, and verging on absurdly delicious. And cheap. And I didn’t have to wait more than 5 minutes.

I took a cab home at this point…stopping a few blocks away as my taxi driver spoke very poor English. I took the opportunity to stop by a nearby hostel for some free internet and cheap beer before returning to the Reno and plunging into the pool.

Not bad. The company, a group of local teenage boys and a cat, could be improved, but it was still a fantastic way to recover from a hot and tiring day. After the sunset and a change of outfit I ventured down the street to find a rooftop bar at the Siam@Siam hotel. Despite being of middling stature in US terms (maybe 30 stories?) the roof was well above the majority of the buildings in BKK. The view was quite spectacular, though the breeze was sadly lacking. I had a nice chat with a young woman recently arrived from the Netherlands on vacation, leading to a motivational note in my notebook and new objectives for Cambodia.

I would leave for Cambodia the next day. Accordingly, I retired well before midnight in order to checkout and make my way to the bus depot by 9.

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Taipei

by Matthew Luk Posted on May 29, 2013

This is going to be a text heavy post, since I didn’t use my camera once in Taiwan. But there are a few phone pictures. Also there may be a lot of writing, because going back to the country where I spent a big chunk of my childhood is always an interesting experience, especially now that I have some smidgen of perspective.

The main purpose of me going back to Taiwan at all was to visit my grandmother. She’s somewhere in the late 80′s range and not too mobile. For a while, she split her time between my mom’s place in Connecticut and my aunt’s outside of DC. But I think she returned to Taiwan permanently in 2011 or so. She started getting vertigo and couldn’t walk too much unassisted. She fell a few times. Everyone involve decided it was best for her to go back to a place where she at least knew the language and was familiar with the surroundings. Regardless, she hasn’t left her apartment, other than to check the mailbox downstairs, for almost two years. That’s just crazy for me to conceive. She says she is afraid to go out, and really, I guess she has no good reason to do so.

I would imagine staying inside all day every day gets a bit boring, but it might not seem that way to her. Who knows. I’ve always figured that getting old will suck a lot, as I become unable to do the things I used to enjoy, but if my perception and desires also change along with my ailing body I suppose it might not be so bad. But perhaps more scary to me than the physical deterioration of my body is exactly this lost of will and joi de vivre. To think that at some point I would not want to run around outside or enjoy nature or eating is mindboggling. I am well aware of my physical limitations and my oh so fleeting mastery of the physical realm…but I’ve always considered my mind, or even soul, to be a separate entity. But the reality is that even the mind is rooted in physical and electrical connections between neurons through synapses that are all too material. Try as we might, entropy will eventually defeat even our best efforts. valar morghulis.

Well that was a bit morbid, let’s move on.

So, I got in late Friday night. i.e. my flight landed around 11 PM. I planned to catch a bus from the airport to downtown, and walk to my grandma’s place. Should’ve been a 30-40 min bus ride and maybe a 15 min walk. It turns out (as my high school math teacher Mr. Choate is wont to say when he’s explaining a complicated proof) that the bus driver was a bit incompetent. i.e. I really almost died. He must have fell asleep and we hit a curb on the highway before swerving across at least two lanes. Good thing the roads were deserted. To add insult to injury, some woman took it upon herself to scream at him for 10 minutes after she got off and delayed my arrival even more. Clearly that did no good…she just needs to call the bus company. But I was glad someone probably did something about it and I didn’t have to do it myself. Because, man, that dude should not be driving a bus no matter how many children he has to feed at home. Sorry bro.

I got to my grandma’s place at something like 1 AM. Thankfully the doorman let me in and my grandma was awake to open the door. Her apartment has like 4-bedrooms…so I got set up in a spare one and decided that we would go visit my grandfather’s mausoleum/memorial/ossuary/necropolis/where his ashes are kept in an urn in a huge temple thing.  We booked a taxi for the 1 hr ride. It will be the first time she leaves the house in a long while. Arrangements made, I passed out.

We left around 10:30 or something the next morning. A very nice gentleman picked us up right outside in a taxi and chatted with my grandma the whole way. They talked about the old times and I ferreted some family history out of her. Apparently my grandfather’s family were fairly well off entrepreneurs and he made some solid money operating a small shipping company. My grandmother’s family owned a textile shop I think. Cool.

We arrived at the place and it was windy as hell…I guess it’s always like that since it’s on top of a big hill at the very northern tip of the island. Oh, this is Taiwan in case you were lost:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taiwan

Those are not my pictures, btw.

 

But these are. Views from the place.

The actual experience there was quite short. I helped my grandmother up the stairs and to an elevator, squeezed in, went upstairs and found my grandfather and his brother, bowed a bit and said a few words, rested, went downstairs, and left. Short but nonetheless powerful. The place was really quite tranquil, even with the hordes of families bustling around. I had a few minutes to say a few words to my grandfather in solitude. Will it do any good? Who cares, it felt right. And it certainly didn’t hurt.

We took the taxi back into town and both my grandmother and I took a nap upon returning. I had vaguely planned to go check out some hip districts downtown but was too tired to mobilize before 5 or so. Just took it easy and organized some shit. Finally, I headed out towards Taipei 101, that huge phallus of a building, in search of some window/people shopping/watching and grub. Window shopping was disappointing, people watching only slightly less so. And food was expensive and not too enticing. I had the idea of wandering towards the surrounding mountains and maybe climb one to watch the lights come on in the city. I even found the beginnings of a legit trail. But, alas, I was sidetracked by an extensive set of basketball courts…

Dunno if you know this, but I’ve recently developed a love for basketball. I’ve been a fan of the NBA for a few years now, but it wasn’t until my senior year that I’ve actually played much. And while pickup in Walker was a lot of fun, I didn’t do much other than hustle and snag rebounds. But after this past Christmas I started going to the YMCA in Durham regularly, like at least twice a week and sometimes much more. Gradually I worked up from beating overweight and undersized middle schoolers to being somewhat useful in a full 3v3 amongst high school kids. I obviously still got schooled by most anyone my own age/size but I’d like to think my defense was above average for the most part. I even developed a semblance of a jumper and could dribble without looking like a complete fool. If only I could actually dribble though, that’d be pretty key. Anywho, I heard they also love basketball in China/Taiwan so I was eager to get a taste for myself.

Alas, I didn’t have proper athletic attire (I had planned for a nice stroll, some dinner, and then maybe hitting the club/bar after). Not to be thwarted by social constructs, I went ahead and balled in my jeans, a Paul Pierce jersey, and heavy hiking boots. It didn’t take long to lose my pants, but unfortunately I had to keep my boots on or risk multiple fractured toes. Winning quite a few games with my newfound teammates, I may have started trash talking too much. In English. Well, in southern, urban, African-American English, if you will. I don’t know if they were irked by mere fact that I was speaking English (something elitist and snobby in their view…but just natural for me) or they actually understood what I was saying about their mothers, but one of the crews that rolled up towards the end of my time did indeed get pretty irked.

Things boiled over when I insisted that the top of the backboard is out of bounds. Which in hindsight, seems to be untrue… In any case, we won the game and this dude (lets call him…Grumpy) took a deep and personal affront to my liberal use of the English language. Some yelling ensued where I tried to explain that I didn’t know how to say “backboard” in Chinese, but I think the point was lost on him. I thought it was all over, and as I’ve been playing for close to 2 hrs in my boots I decided to finally call it quits. Mind you, it’s been like 86 and muggy as shit this whole time. As I sat down and untied my boots, one of Grumpy’s friend walked over and, using hand gestures as if I was a bit slow, explained that Grumpy wanted to play me 1v1. Ok. Fine. I lace my boots back up.

Mr. Grumpy was maybe 3 inches than me, and at least 30 lbs heavier. I’d say he was about 28 or so. He also smoked a lot of cigarettes on the sidelines and wore sandals with a heel strap. I suppose he can shoot alright, and he can certainly overpower me down low. Doubt he can jump much though. Whatever. We get set to start, and his 8 friends gather around to cheer him on. I ask for some water, as I had none, and one of them pointed me towards the puddle. Fine.

Long story short, I hit some silly shots that dragged reluctant “ooooohh’s” from the crowd, gave up on a few defensive plays and came back to lead by 1 at game point. My quads were quite close to cramping all this while. I took it in hard to the right, hesitated, brought the ball high across my face to the left, took a crab dribble and put up a lame duck of a fadeaway. It went in. He called travel (“but feel free to ask these dudes here” he said “they were all watching”). I dropped the next point, got another one, agreed to win by two, and then ignominiously faded. I think we shook hands.

Crushed and exhausted, I sat down and got ready to leave. Everything was soaking wet from my sweat. I wander off limping and shambled into a convenience store. I bought a 2 liter bottle of water, a 500 ml coke, and a flask of JD. Slumming it to a sidewalk bench I took some time to recover and shake off the tunnel vision. A couple walked pass, and he put his arm protectively around her shoulder. I mutter profanities to  myself.

After a gigantic bowl of delicious beef noodles I felt a bit more human and plotted my next move. The normal person would walk home and take a shower. But that was way too far and there was no way I was taking a taxi. Plus I would probably never get out again. Instead I took a long walk with Kendrick and waited until  my sweat had dried to an acceptable level. Then I went to the fanciest bar I’ve ever seen. It’s called Marquee, and I heard about from NYTimes: http://travel.nytimes.com/2013/04/14/travel/36-hours-in-taipei-taiwan.html?pagewanted=all In case you didn’t know, NYTimes runs my life.

And by fanciest bar I meant everyone was dressed to the nines, the barkeeps had professional Brooklyn uniforms, and there were about 1 sublimely gorgeous hostess for every 5 guests. And there was quite a cocktail menu. I got something remarkably tasty, and another something else after. This was indeed a primo people watching place, but after two drinks I was in search of something a little more interactive. Kendrick and I left in search of the fable clubs of Taipei.

After some extensive circling and conversations with myself to pump up my own confidence, I settled on a smaller place at the base of 101. Alas, it was booked for a private party. Could I have chatted up someone and convinced them to get me in as a guest? Probably. But I wasn’t yet that desperate. Having scoped out the locations both in person and via Lonely Planet and other websites before basketball I moved on to two other likely places. One was charging 1000 NTD (about $30) for cover and 3 free drinks and the  one next door cost 700 NTD, with 2 free drinks. I opted for the cheaper one, as I wasn’t sure I’d stay long enough for 3 drinks. As it turns out, one of the DJ’s who’s spinning next was hanging out outside, we started chatting in English and he comped me a free ticket. Looka that.

This was also the fanciest club I’ve ever been to. Which says nothing, because it’s the only real club I’ve been to. But it was indeed fancy. Despite being in the basement and packed full of revelers it stayed remarkably cool thanks to some heavy duty cooling systems. I was impressed. I ended the night dripping in sweat anyways, but the point still stands. There were two main rooms, each with a long bar down the middle, seating along the sides, and a dancefloor area near the front where the DJ/speakers are. One played undanceable electronic stuff, the other leaned towards electronic remixes of hip-hop and pop songs. The clientele was mostly Asians, as expected, but there was a heavy contingent of expats and perhaps tourists as well. Most of the black people were from Africa directly…something I found amusing/interesting/confusing for some reason. The overall average was perhaps a 7.8.

As far as I could tell, the white people mostly kept to themselves and with the few Asian friends they came with. I suppose that’s not too different than in America…where you probably don’t associate too much with randos outside of your friends regardless of the gender. As I had no friends…I was automatically that guy. Nothing a few high-fives and some yelling didn’t solve though. And I may or may not have started the actual dancing by joining in with the first intrepid couple to start busting moves. I did meet quite a few interesting people, but a packed club isn’t the best place to make lasting connections.

This is what 2.5 hrs of basketball, 2 miles of walking in the rain, and 3 hrs of dancing looks like.

It was maybe 3 or 4 when I returned to my grandmother’s. She was still awake. I guess people don’t believe me when I say I won’t be back until late. I suppose my grandmother still sees me like a child. Oh well.

The next morning/noon I had lunch with my uncle and learned a bit about his former career as a chemical engineer developing weapons for the government. Cool. Also entertained some theories as to why my brother and I both ended up in the US while his family stayed mostly put. After schmoozing, I made my way to the National Palace Museum, where photography was prohibited. Oops:

Those are some eggplant snuff bottles made from jade. How awesome is that. Anyways, with the National Palace Museum, which collection consists of basically everything previously housed in the Forbidden Palace, my material history of the Qing Empire was pretty much complete. I went to a night market afterwards and had some stinky tofu and some other delectables before making my way back home before 9 pm. Being out of internet or phone contact all day precluded me from joining some girl I met the night before for some rooftop shenanigans, but it was still a pretty solid weekend. I shipped some things home via DHL at the 7-Eleven downstairs and then called it a night.

I left around 5:00 AM the next day, passed through Hong Kong, got on one of the new A380′s and arrived in Bangkok at 15:05 on Monday April 15th.

Taoyuan International Airport

 

The eastern mountain chain of Taiwan.

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Macau and Hong Kong

by Matthew Luk Posted on May 28, 2013

Just got back from a super-long weekend of commencement festivities at Vassar. Let me tell you, senior week is even mo’ fun when you have built 4 years of familiarity but don’t have to deal with the stress/emotions of actually graduating. Plus there was mad loot to scavenge.

Anyways, back to Asia, since this blog is suppose to be in somewhat chronological order. I really need to stop doing cool things before I leave so I can actually catch up. Speaking of leaving, just got my tickets to London and onward to Tel Aviv. Leaving JFK on 6/5, arriving in Tel Aviv on 6/6. Returning from London on 7/24 in order to be back for Wildwood.

Anyways. Asia.

 

Picking up from Shanghai, my dad and I flew into Hong Kong. We stayed at the Langham Place in Mongkok. Apparently my dad is a frequent guest and therefore part of the special membership club of some sort. Which meant we got speedier check-in and a huge suite with his favorite beverages (coke and sparkling water) pre-loaded. Guess there are perks for spending a couple of hundred dollars on hotel rooms every couple of weekends each month.

Dropping our stuff off, we ventured out into the drizzle to rustle up some beef flank/skirt/brisket/I dunno what but it was delicious noodles. Tiny hole in the wall shop with yes, the bomb-est beef noodle I’ve ever had. For maybe $4. Dang.

Then I think we went to a malllll to kill some time before dinner with my dad’s colleagues/friends/business associates. There was some sort of fashion show at the mall, but we didn’t stay.

Dinner was at this little quayside restaurant, amongst many other similar places. However, significantly, this particular restaurant is owned by the in-laws of one of my dad’s friend, who is also an orthodontist. Therefore we had maybe $500 worth of seafood amongst the 5 of us. For free. Dang.

One of my dad’s friend also mentioned something about going HAM and not wasting my youth. He may or may not have used the term YOLO. I went down to Central, on Hong Kong to act on this man’s advice, but to no avail.

The next day we went to Macau, which, if you didn’t know, is across the bay from Hong Kong. To the west. It takes about an hour on the ferry boat. Macau use to be a Portuguese possession, and I think it remained as such even after Hong Kong was returned. It is now a Special Administrative Region (SAR) of China, much like Hong Kong.  Meaning they regulate their own internal affairs and immigration while the PRC handles foreign relations.

This is the facade of St. Paul (Peter?) cathedral, which apparently fell into ruins at some point.

And I had some pork chops on Portuguese rolls (mmm Portuguese rolls) and some fried noodles.

Over my dad’s objections, we checked out the Macau Museum. Which was really the only choice since it’s steadily drizzling.

We walked around some more after that, quickly checking out the main historic pedestrian areas. Macau is actually the densest principality/country since pretty much its entire territory is one urban complex.

We also happened on some very empty and very corny tourist attractions built to look like the Mediterrenean, among other things.

Then we took a free shuttle to one of the gigantic monstro-casino/hotels where I blew the remainder of my RMB some some blackjack. I didn’t do that terribly, but it’s hard to work with $60 when ante was $10.

We took the ferry back to Hong Kong around 7, and my dad went to teach his class. I was going to go out somewhere…but just ended up swimming in the open-air rooftop pool. More refreshing than relaxing, given the continuing drizzle. I did meet some chill Air Canada stewardesses at the hotel bar though. We left the next day after some dim sum. I flew to Taipei for a couple of days and my dad returned directly to Taichung.

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Shanghai

by Matthew Luk Posted on May 19, 2013

I met up with my mom and the school group Friday night at the airport. The Shanghai airport was strangely deserted, but maybe it was only because it happened to be 11 PM or so. Anyways, I had to wait awhile for the group to arrive, and then we went uneventfully to the hotel. It was a pretty nice hotel, a touch of luxury for the group’s last two nights in China. Apparently there were quite a few critters at their place in Xi’an. My room was huge, maybe close to 500 sq ft (putting all that apartment searching knowledge to use), and had two full beds along with a sitting area and a nice marble/stone tub. Apparently the main reason my mom wanted the group to see Shanghai was to make sure the kids knew that the Chinese can do things as fancy as the Westerners too, if only in select places.

The next morning we started off visiting the site of the 2010 World Expo. Many of the pavilions had already been demolished, but the China Pavilion was turned into a contemporary art museum. It was a pretty cool structure, sort of shaped like an inverted meso-American pyramid with Asian styling. It was too bad that we didn’t spend more time there. I guess the average high school student isn’t all that into art. We did check out this sweet multimedia rendition of a classical Chinese painting though. The original was a pair of long scrolls depicting city life in ancient China both during the day and at night. The exhibit switched periodically between the two scenes and also added some imaginative background noises.

I also had some time to check out a few of the other exhibits, mostly traditional style paintings by modern artists and the beginnings of modern art during the early republican era.   After the museum we went over to Pudong proper, i.e. the east bank of the Huangpu River. We were already on the east bank, but Pudong usually means the heavily built up skyscraper/financial district of Luijiazui. Brief geographical/historical aside…Shanghai is built on the Huangpu River, near its confluence with the Yangtze River, which is the longest river in Asia and 3rd longest in the world. It’s also basically on the East China Sea, in case you didn’t know. Kind of a big deal. One of the two epicenter of prehistoric Chinese and then ancient Chinese culture developed along the middle Yangtze, if I recall correctly. Shanghai was never a very important city, being eclipsed for much of its history by the nearby and occasional capitol city of Nanjing on the Yangtze proper. Shanghai itself has always been a relatively important trading port but it wasn’t until the 19th century, when the Europeans started using it as a commercial base to access the lucrative Chinese market, that it started to gain the prominence it has today. It is the most populous city in China. Some say it is also the most populous city in the world, by the number of people living in the city proper.

In any case, Shanghai has since been the most cosmopolitan city in China proper since the 19th century. There is a lot of money here, and lots of tall buildings too. The cultural vibe is noticeably more laid back and Western than Beijing. People are less rude. There are also significantly less Chinese tourists bustling about. Things are more expensive. I think the subway is twice the price of Beijing, bringing it up to a whopping $0.50 or less per ride. Anyways  I give you, Pudong:

The new Shanghai Tower (or something) sandwiched between many of its huge friends.

 

The Oriental Pearl TV tower, perhaps the most iconic structure in Shanghai to this day. Built in the early (?) 90′s. Even I couldn’t resist taking its portrait a ridiculous number of times.

 

One of the many Apple stores in Shanghai. Apparently there aren’t any in Taiwan, despite the fact that Taiwanese companies make many of the key component. And the country overall has a much higher per capita wealth.

 

Lujiaziu, as seen from the Bund.

 

The Bund being a riverfront stretch of the old city, i.e. Puxi, i.e. the west bank of the river, that has a great number of European style commercial buildings. Including the first Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation (HSBC) headquarter, the custom house, the Peace Hotel, and a few other relatively famous structures. Perpendicular to the Bund is Nanjingdong Lu., i.e. Nanjing East Rd., which is probably the equivalent Time Square and Fifth Avenue rolled into one. Except it’s a bit less luxurious nowadays and the fancy stores, i.e. Gucci, Louis Vutton, Bugatti, Tiffany’s, Hublot, etc. etc., have moved to chic-er addresses. But it’s the same idea insomuch millions of intranational tourists flock to it when they visit Shanghai.   After lunch we went to the Shanghai Museum, which is pretty small, but had quite an interesting selection of ancient artifacts and informative signs in English.

This golden hoof, and others like it, was once a form of currency.

 

That night we took one of those garish boat tours on the river. I hid in the bathroom, which was much quieter and conducive to taking pictures. I just sat in an empty stall and snapped away out of a remarkably clear window.

 

My mom and the group left early the next morning, Sunday. I had some time to kill before my dad arrived, so I dropped my stuff off at my new hotel (a bright yellow monstrosity on the outskirts of the city core) and did a bit of exploring.

Almost checked out this cool brick church, but it wasn’t yet open when I got there. I spoke to the woman at the gate and she told me I had to go pick up a free ticket at the local tourism office around the corner before I could visit. I almost didn’t bother, but it was free and I had nothing better to do. So I went and got my ticket. Upon returning, I was informed that visitation did not start until 2:00, and it was roughly 1:45. Ok. I was a bit annoyed but figure I would just take a nap or something on the lawn. Then this European guy wanders by and asks if he can see the church. The woman who so firmly turned me away twice gives him a big welcoming smile and ushers him through the gate. Needless to say, I was extremely disgusted. Ripping my ticket in half, I threw the pieces on the pavement. I made sure to make eye contact with the gatekeeper, gave her a fond “fuck this shit,” and stalked off in a choleric rage.

What I find even more shameful than prejudice against people of another culture/race is racism against one’s own people (and perhaps just blatant unprofessionalism). But maybe why I responded so strongly was because I know I am often guilty of the same tendencies. Would I also consider the average Western tourist in Shanghai to be more cultured and worldly than the average Chinese person I see on the street? Sure. Is this a form of racism and stereotyping? Sure. Nonetheless, it is, in my opinion, an objectively correct statement. But do I think that a cultured person, regardless of race,  is inherently better or deserve preferential treatment? No. Regardless of how one thinks in private, I believe that while we are interacting with society at large, we should always strive to treat everyone with the same respect. Even if you do not believe that all human beings are fundamentally equal, you should at least fake it,  especially if you are in the service industry. It is one thing to feel that the majority of the Chinese people may not be as cultured or wealthy as the average Western tourist, but it is another to tailor your actions according to your private prejudices. A customer is a customer, and should be treated as such, no matter what you think about their worthiness as a person.

But maybe it’s really not all that complicated. I was just pissed that someone, even someone as insignificant as the gatekeeper to some random church in Shanghai, thought that I was unimportant. Maybe I just have too big of an ego, even though I’m pretty sure it’s a pretty normal human reaction to get mad when you see someone treated better than you and wonder “why is he better than me?” Perhaps, less nobly, I was annoyed that they did not recognize me as someone who deserved to get preferential treatment. Maybe I was just annoyed that my privileged status as a junior member of the American meritocracy/intelligentsia was not recognized by some random Chinese woman. Now that sounds a little insecure…and is probably also part of the story.

 

On another note, here are some socks. I washed them by hand in the sink. I was proud.

 

Here are some socks and other things, taken using my dad’s 16-85mm Nikon lens at 16mm. He has a full frame Nikon (D600? costs >2 grand) but still uses/buys DX lenses. Sigh. I wonder how many/few people with the money to burn on fancy cameras actually know how to use them. Not many, I’d wager. Which is not to say I’m not extremely jealous of them anyways.   We had a middling dinner at some German brewhouse style place at a new and chic district. Then the next day, Monday, I convinced my dad to go check out this supposedly historic district a few subway stop to the west. There we found some cool buildings and canals, and lots of tasty looking snacks that we did not partake in.

Place was mobbed.

 

Some nouveau-ancient style apartments.

 

 

Instead, we took the subway to Pudong and had lunch at this Sichuan restaurant. It was quite tasty, and in a weird courtyard mall thing they they appear to be fond of in more mild climates.

After checking out some malls and deciding against paying the ridiculous ransom to go up the Oriental Pearl, we went and saw Drug War at the nearby cinema. It’s a Hong Kong style movie made by a mainland director. It was pretty slick and the story was commendable, except for the extremely heavy handed parable it offered at the end…that drug trafficking is bad and if you do it you will lose everything you’ve ever loved. And, oh, btw, you’re also probably a scoundrel with no morals or virtues or redeeming quality of any kind. Dinner was at the Park Hyatt, aka the bottle opener building. The restaurant, the cheaper of the two, is on the 80 odd floor. Lighting was extremely muted and the view quite spectacular. The food, which consisted of an appetizer/desert buffet and an a la carte all you can eat menu, was delicious if not exactly innovative or exciting.

Soft-shell crab.

 

Gnocchi

 

2nd round of my appetizer plate. Serrano, prosciutto, and speck.

 

After dinner, my dad went back to the hotel and I went looking for some drinks. This would be the first, though certainly not last, time on this trip that I successfully met and talked to other travelers. I found a decent brewpub and from there followed the crowd to a happening bar/club where even at 11:00 PM they were giving out free beers. In addition to getting my dance on, I met 1) a couple of Australian diplomatic IT personnel, 2) a group of Jewish tourists from the UK and US, hailing from LA, Detroit, and some other places; 3) some British people who didn’t know what dosey do actually meant 4) an expat online videographer from Morristown, NJ. Also found out that you can buy a pack of smokes for $1.30. At a bar no less. Also found out that when I tell my dad “I’ll be back late” he will still get worried when I come back at 2 AM.

 

The next day we went to the Yu Garden, another tourist center, and had some delicious food here:

Apparently the Clintons, and some other famous people, have also eaten there. Woo. It was quite good though, including that strange looking bowl of green stuff, which turns out to be some sort of local and seasonal green that is getting extremely rare. Also had some more river shrimps, boiled stomach, and that delicious phylo-dough-like dumpling thing. In the afternoon I convinced my dad, after an acrimonious exchange or two where I expressed (poorly) my frustration at having to actually get someone else to agree on something before I can do it, to go with me to the Jewish Museum. Apparently a good deal of the European Jewry escaped and sheltered in Shanghai prior to and during WWII. The Chinese ambassador to Austria (I think) was just handing out visas left and right. Who knew. They supposedly found the Chinese people very welcoming, but nevertheless all quickly left as soon as they could.

The museum, which once served as a synagogue  Also a few leftover buildings from that era in what was then the Jewish quarter.

 

After that little field trip my dad returned to the hotel, and I set off to see the Yangtze River. It is one of the most awesomest river in the world after all. A couple of the subway lines ran all the way up there, and after several discrete moments of agonizing decisions making, I picked the one that seemed to get me slightly closer. A 40-minute subway ride later, I arrived at my destination. The Yangtze was nowhere to be found, nor was any sort of touristy looking attraction. Undaunted, I started hoofing it in the general direction where I thought the river might be. After a good half an hour of brisk walking, I find myself in the middle of this:

Somehow I failed to remember that Shanghai is in fact the busiest port in the world. And much of the access to the river must therefore be lined with gigantic container storage lots and other components of the modern shipping industry. I walked for perhaps 3 miles that afternoon, and all I saw was mountains beyond mountains of containers. And diesel belching semis roaring down the roads at me. Sigh. Guess I should’ve used the internetz to find an actual access to the river. It was getting late, and I was tired of breathing diesel fumes, so I hustled back towards the subway. On the way there I happened upon a strange walled off development district…where there were high-rise office buildings and a not to shabby Marriott. Unable to resist, I had an uber expensive cup of coffee and read some magazines for a bit before finally catching the train and meeting my dad for dinner back in the city. We went to a minor Shanghainese chain near the hotel, but nonetheless managed to order 10 dishes and eat way too opulently anyways.

Delicious deep fried and sweet (!) smelt-like fish full of eggs.

 

There really were nine to ten dishes…for the two of us…

 

More pictures on Google Plus, per usual: https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/100483535519903076158/albums/5879718920242895745

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Beijing

by Matthew Luk Posted on May 17, 2013

We arrived in Beijing on 3/27, but 3/28 was the first day of touring. Highlights include the Forbidden Palace, the Temple of Heaven, and various touristy places that exist solely to fleece money from Westerners. We stayed at a mid-range, mostly Chinese hotel near the southeast corner of the 3rd ring road. It’s apparently a hotel built by a province to host tourists from that province. Even the high school kids weren’t particularly impressed. There was, however, an interesting working class neighborhood for me to explore and to eat lamb kebabs for 30 cents a skewer. The lamb may or may not have been alley cat marinated in sheep urine…which is apparently what some unscrupulous vendors do to cut cost, according to the local expat magazine. Night time exploration also netted me a local SIM card and phone charger. And some Asian pears, 10 for like $1.30, or 2 for $0.80 as it were. After my mom left I stayed at a very nice hostel in Doncheng District right on this super gentrified hutong called Nanlugou Alley, and after I didn’t go to Xi’an I just crashed at Kylie’s dorm.

The (Once) Forbidden Palace

Note the group of Chinese tourists in matching blue camo bucket hats. Needless to say, everywhere we went that day was mobbed by huge roving groups of Chinese tourists, usually wearing matching hats or jackets. Man were they loud and single purposed.

 

Hi mom.

 

This was the ridiculous crowd vying, ridiculously rudely, for a shot/view of the imperial throne. As a child growing up in Taiwan I was always told of how incredibly rude and uncultured my mainland brethren were. I always wrote that off to prejudice born of decades of animosity and persecution. But alas, it’s pretty much true. I felt sort of what I imagine, and Jon Merrell would have like me to imagine, what an Englishman might have felt like when he visited colonial America. Other than the fact that China was obviously never a colony of Taiwan, it’s a pretty apt analogy. It’s inevitable when a country industrializes and grows wealthy so quickly that there would be some stark contrast between the rural or even provincial population and the established bourgeoisie in the older cities. Except that a tiny percentage of the 24 million or so people in Beijing are actually from there. Which lends the city a very rough feel…like a humongous frontier town. One with quite a bit of totalitarian trappings. But I’ll get to that later.  In general, Beijing just seems too big and unwieldy. Even the 15 lines of subway, with more stations opening weekly, can barely provide enough order to keep the whole system from imploding on itself. I must say it’s a pretty impressive subway system though, with loops on loops in loops through loops.

 

The aforementioned throne.

 

A lackluster bowl of supposedly famous Beijing noodles. Much of the food we had to endure as the price of being a part of a tour group were quite atrocious. But hey, the kids didn’t much care and I was moderately ok with eating free food during the day and scrounging for delicacies on my own later. There was some hardcore bargaining that went on to convince the tour guide to bring us to a mediocre Peking duck place though.

 

The Temple of Heaven

 

The Great Wall…parts of which are apparently extremely steep. I also accidentally ended up out of bounds, which was moderately exciting but didn’t reward me with any particularly spectacular views, though I did get a little worried when I realized I had climbed back onto the wall right under the watchful eye of a security camera. I was also pretty disappointed to find out that the toursity sections of the wall have end points…and I couldn’t just keep walking all the way to Kazakhstan. Sigh.

 

They were shooting The Walking Dead: China. No not really, this was just a closed road near the Bird’s Nest where pedestrians refused to walk for some reason.

 

This might have been the kids’ highlight of Beijing. To get onto the plaza that lead to the Olympic Park you had to cross this road, where tour buses kept parking and disgorging more and more tourists. To make matters worse, there was a fence limiting access to the road except for about a 20 ft gap. And there were barriers in this gap that attempted to route the crowd in a serpentine manner so as they wouldn’t be able to get in or out too fast. All of these structural obstacles plus the aforementioned rudeness of the average Chinese tourist, made for a very interesting experience.Oh and did I mention that people were trying to both get on as well as off the plaza. While I think the average Chinese citizen is too afraid of the government to commit an overt crime, there was certainly an inordinate amount of jostling. There was zero order. It was a complete free for all with no regards for personal space nor was there any sort of “excuse me” uttered. If there was a gunshot, or a ice-cream truck, or a fake Mao sighting, people would have certainly been trampled to death. None of this came as a particular surprise for me, it just confirmed my worst suspicion. What I did find extremely amusing was the fact that there is a very easy alternative available to being stuck in this mosh-pit from hell. There was, you see, an exit from the subway both in the plaza proper and on the side of the road where everyone was trying to get to. I simply went down the entrance in the plaza and emerged unjostled on the other side. Out of the hundreds of people trying to cross the road, exactly zero did what  I did. And it’s not like the idea of an underpass is foreign to them…there are plenty of pedestrian underpass in Beijing. I was/am shocked at the complete lack of outside the box thinking exhibited by the crowd. Once again, I am not trying to pass judgement on the entire nation of China, but I would bet that if the same situation were to occur in the US or even Europe (ok, maybe not Germany, but at least they wouldn’t be jostling so hard) there would have been a steady stream of people using the subway as an underpass. Sometimes (well ok, usually) stereotypes are based on some degree of truth. Sigh.

 

Some Western troubadours from the Tang Dynasty and other art in the National Museum.

 

They didn’t sell food, other than cookies and ice cream, in the whole damn museum. C’mon. Someone needs to teach them a thing or two about proper museum design. They’re missing out on gobs of potential profit. As I was dying of hunger I had to settle for some tea in an attempt to calm my hunger pangs. Let me tell you, it didn’t work too well. The rest of my visit was severely handicapped by the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about food.

 

The atrium to the super-propaganda heavy hall of something or another…which celebrated the victorious Commies.

 

Those stupid swans that some president gave to the Chinese. One of the few state gifts from a politically powerful countries in a hall full of gifts from African and Oceanic countries.

 

A hutong at 4:30 AM…when I walked to a bar to watch Duke lose to Louisville and had some delicious Moroccan merguez sausages.

 

Beihai. Where I took a nap against a building in a courtyard while elderly couples danced to music from a old school boombox.

 

Kylie. And the Summer Palace. She was quite amazed by the cherry blossoms.

 

The CCTV Tower

 

There was a super schmancy mall in Chaoyang district where there was mad art…many by Salvador Dali. It’s called Parkview Green or somesuch and it also had a hotel attached. It essentially looked like several towers encased in a giant glass box. Pretty sweet. I couldn’t afford to buy anything from any store in there, though the French silk boxers with cartoon prints were enticing. Oh and Kylie and I ate at Din Tai Fung there, which is apparently a pretty famous dumpling house. It was pretty good.

 

Some art at some random show, by art students from what I can gather, next to the super lackluster military museum. They did have the wreckage of the U2 they shot down though, which was cool in a morbid sort of way. This was the day after I was suppose to leave for Xi’an. I spent the morning internetting on my tablet while Kylie did some homework. We were supposed to pick up our friend Sueli at the train station that night so we made our way down towards the station in the afternoon. She went and studied some more at the National Library and I checked out the military museum. Then it started raining a lot. And Sueli’s train got delayed. So we ended up with way too many hours to kill in a preetty dead part of town. In the rain. Ended up playing pool in a random multistory recreational hall reeking of cigarettes.

Oh, and the night before, the night when I was suppose to be on a plane to Xi’an I spent playing some pickup ultimate near Beijing University. There was a decent coed group when  I was there and a pretty decent turf field. For some reason, despite the pollution, I dominated pretty hard… It was a lot of fun just to run around in something other than my boots. It seemed like a fun group and I was a bit disappointed that there wasn’t a bar outing directly afterwards. Speaking of sports…I also played a little one-on-one (in my hiking boots since I didn’t have sneakers) the day before at some random courts. While doing anything in heavy leather boots was pretty unwieldy, I still managed to have some fun and make the 30 year old dude I was playing call it quits from a previously strained groin. Whatever. But the real pickup showdown will have to wait until Taiwan (foreshadow foreshadow foreshadow).

 

Views from Jingshan. Sueli, Kylie, and I met up with Sueli’s tutor from her summer abroad program and her tutor’s cousin in the morning. We walked a bit and ended up at Jingshang as a result of my insistence. It was interesting to talk to educated young people my own age and see what they thought of China.

 

Last square meal in Beijing. Including baodu…aka exploded stomach, which is really just boiled tripe with no seasoning except some sesame. Oh and also those delicious river shrimps featured in that earlier post. Flew to Shanghai on 4/5 at 8:00 PM. Other than when I was very young, this was the longest I’ve ever stayed in a city that I didn’t actually live in.

And yes, there are more pictures on Google Plus, per usual: https://plus.google.com/photos/100483535519903076158/albums/5878587610582144241

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A (relatively) Brief Overview of the Last 2-months in My Life

by Matthew Luk Posted on May 16, 2013

Here is the first installment of my latest travel saga. I thought about doing this thematically…but that would require a lot more planning, outlining, and thinking in general. I’m not really into that at this point. Maybe if I didn’t feel the pressure to publish ASAP I would be able to tie things together more neatly. Alas. So, we will go through this chronologically in the familiar, wordy, and overly detailed style that you must be used to by now. Forgive me, as this blog will also hopefully serve as a diary for myself in my old age when I forget all the exciting things I used to do as a young man.

Perhaps I should start with a brief overview of what exactly I have been doing since I last posted. I quit my job at the Refectory Cafe on March 4th. Then, I flew back to Connecticut for re-visit at UConn Med on 3/7, returning to North Carolina the evening of 3/9. The next day, Jennie and I departed on a road trip towards Savannah, Georgia. We stopped in Wilmington, Charleston, and Savannah. We met up with the Vassar ultimate team in Brunswick, GA on 3/14, where they were in the last day of High Tide. I stayed with the team until 3/17 when they dropped me off in NC on their way back up north. I took the next week to pack and get my shit together and play SimCity. I left Durham in the morning of 3/25/2013 and drove all the way back here to Middletown, CT. I quickly unpacked and repacked and on 3/27 boarded a flight from Newark to Beijing.

I was traveling with my mom, her husband Greg, 4 high school kids, and another chaperon named Peter, who happened to be the school psychologist. My mom is a guidance counselor at a high school and was leading a pilot program where students go over to China for a cultural tour and to exchange ideas and gifts with their sister school.  The plan was for me to hang out with the group for a few days in Beijing until they went to their sister school in Shangdong Province, meet up with them in Xi’an, go with the group to Shanghai and then rendezvous with my dad after the group leaves.

Things started off as planned. I toured Beijing with the group through 3/30 and moved into a hostel after they left in the morning of 3/31. I spent 3/31 by myself, mostly at the National Museum. On 4/1 I spent the morning alone then met up with my friend Kylie from Vassar. 4/2 and 4/3 were spent mostly with Kylie as well. I was suppose to leave in the evening of 4/3 and meet the group in Xi’an…but somehow the travel agent fucked up my ticket. So that didn’t happen. I played some pickup ultimate instead and settled for more hanging out with Kylie. We also met up/picked up our friend Sueli from the train station the night of 4/4 and 4/5 was spent in downtown Beijing until I flew out to Shanghai that evening.

In Shanghai I met the group at the airport and went to the hotel together (missing out on the maglev train). 4/6 was spent touring Shanghai and the group left in the morning of 4/7.     I had some time to explore Shanghai on 4/7 before meeting my dad at our hotel in the late afternoon. 4/8 and 4/9 were spent in Shanghai, mostly eating, and we flew to Hong Kong the morning of 4/10. On 4/11 we went to Macau by ferry and I blew the last of my renminbi. 4/12 we flew, separately, to Taiwan.

I went to Taipei to visit my grandmother and my dad returned directly to Taichung. On 4/13 I took my grandmother to visit the temple/sanctuary where my grandfather and his brother’s ashes are kept. That night I went to a super hip club. 4/14 I spent mostly at the National Palace Museum after a debriefing by my uncle. I left Taipei/Taiwan the morning of 4/15 and landed in Bangkok around 5 PM, via Hong Kong.

The evening of 4/15 was spent sweating my ass off and walking all over residential Bangkok. I visited the Jim Thompson House and a few temples in the city on 4/16 and had some delicious pad thai. 4/17 I left for Cambodia via bus, departing Bangkok around 9 AM and checking into a guesthouse in Siem Reap around 7 PM. I toured Angkor Wat and the surrounding temples on 4/18 by bicycle, met some interesting people, and did a bit of dancing. 4/19 was spent recuperating, i.e. visiting the local EU sponsored handicraft workshop, the Angkor Museum, and taking a horseback ride at sunset. More drinking ensued. I left Siem Reap for Bangkok around 8 AM on 4/20, hoping to catch the 7:30 PM night train from Bangkok to Chumpon and onward to Koh Tao by ferry. I arrived in Bangkok at 7:45 PM, missed my train, but managed to get on the 11 PM express.

Arrived in Chumphon around 6 AM on 4/21, caught the connecting bus to the pier, and arrived on Koh Tao mid-morning. Got set up with my real rustic bungalow and registered for my Open Water PADI diving course before wandering the island and flopping into the ocean at regular intervals. 4/22 I started my Open Water course. Pretty much entirely occupied by diving, punctuated by a little spill from a moped, until 4/25 when I graduated and immediately caught a ferry to Koh Pha-Ngan with some new friends. Partook in the full moon revelry the night of 4/25 and on 4/26 tried futilely to locate a spectacular waterfall. Settled for a charming beach and a sunset dinner al fresco instead. 4/27, went back to Koh Tao and started my Advanced Open Water course. Thought about heading to the west coast of the peninsula, but the weather had already turned over there. You could see the thunderstorms from Koh Tao. Had 3 dives on 4/27, one of which was a night dive deeply sullied by too much gnocchi. Finished AOW on 4/28 and had my only real moment of panic when I thought the ferry to Koh Samui on 4/29 was completely sold out. It wasn’t. Left Koh Tao for Samui the morning of 4/29 and checked-in to a splurge-y guesthouse in the Fisherman’s Village. Turns out there was no electricity until 4 PM. Found other ways to entertain myself and had a pleasant enough time. On 4/30 I caught a flight to Bangkok from Koh Samui and then connected to my flight to Hong Kong. Spent an aggravating night at the Hong Kong Airport Marriott before leaving for Newark on the morning of 5/1.

Arrived in Newark around 2 PM on 5/1. My dad, who was visiting his sister in Tenafly, refused to pick me up. He told me he would pay for a taxi, I rented a car instead. Spent 5/1 and 5/2 with my dad. My brother joined us on 5/2, very conveniently reuniting me with my car. I drove up to Vassar on 5/3 and partook in the fantastic debauchery known as Founder’s Day and hung out at school until 5/5 when I took the train down to the city with a few friends. Saw Kristen play a show in Brooklyn and stayed with Gabe in Bushwick. Spent 5/6 at Flushing with Weiner and had dinner with Max at an Ukrainian restaurant in the East Village. Went to Central Park on 5/7, played some disc, and met up with my brother briefly. Took the train back up to Vassar. Hung out a bit and left in a hurry when I realized that the Kendrick Lamar concert at Wesleyan was on a Thursday for some reason, and not Friday like I had assumed. Drove back to Middletown, therefore, on 5/9 and caught the concert. Chilled with some friends of friends of friends and friends of friends of friends of friends for quite some time before sleeping at home. 5/10 I left in the afternoon after sorting through some things and went up to Groton for my 5th reunion. Crazy times. Did reunion things for the weekend until I had to drive Emma to the airport Sunday, 5/12. Gorged on some oyster and frolicked in Boston on 5/12 before going over to Cody’s and taking it easy for the night. 5/13 was spent mostly on Piers/Ian’s couch in Somerville “planning” my next move. Turns out I was getting a little stressed about this whole housing thing for the fall so I decided to return to Connecticut on 5/14. Spent 5/15 seeing apartments in Hartford and dreaming of home ownership. And this is 5/16.

 

Well, this started as a brief intro to my post on Beijing but it obviously grew out of control. So consider this the Introduction, or, a very very detailed table of contents. Perhaps an outline. And while it may have bored you to read such an outline, now I feel somewhat freed to make the rest of my post more thematic/less observational. Which may or may not be a good thing. In any case, if you simply want to see some pictures of Beijing with no context, feel free to check out my G+ album: https://plus.google.com/photos/100483535519903076158/albums/5878587610582144241

I will make a proper post on Beijing soon (yes, I suppose for the sake of chronology I should dig up my pictures from that road trip to Savannah, but they’re on my disassembled desktop), just not today. I’ve already missed my first appointment of the day (don’t worry, it was just an open house) because of this post.

But hey, Angkor Wat. Amiright?

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The State of Ultimate…as told from a plane…

by Matthew Luk Posted on May 15, 2013

I told you I would be updating my blog with notes from my travel. I am, however, pretty preoccupied with my scheme to become a slum lord in Hartford, so I found a loophole and pulled up this POS that I wrote while flying to China. It was long overdue then, and is way super overdue now, but here it is. It is also incomplete (I might add some conclusions, but I think I will refrain from editing. Sorry.) Forgive my ramblings and inaccuracies…I was sort of in an altitude induced and sensory depraved trance.

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Writing this post 30,000 feet in the air, just like Kendrick, on a Nexus 7 tablet no less. This will be about ultimate frisbee, and what I think of the various developments that have been occurring in said sport. I am assuming that most of you reading know what ultimate is generally so I will not devote too much space to an explanation of the actual mechanics of the sport on the field. To put it simply, ultimate is like trying to play football, if the action were non-stop, there is no hitting, and you cannot move with the disc. Sort of like soccer with hands, but not dribbling, and trying to score touchdowns.

Simple rules: http://www.usaultimate.org/resources/officiating/rules/default.aspx#10simplerules

Real rules: http://www.usaultimate.org/resources/officiating/rules/11th_edition_rules.aspx

Still with me? Another key difference is that ultimate is, traditionally, self officiated. Much like any good pickup basketball game. Players call their own fouls, and there is a fair amount of fouling (usually by accident), and resolve disagreements according to a set of agreed upon guidelines generally laid out in the USAU rule book. USAU (USA ultimate, formerly the UPA or Ultimate Players Association) being the national governing body of ultimate and the de facto source of legitimacy for any tournament/program until very recently.

Players also traditionally subscribe to a philosophy of sportsmanship called Spirit of the Game (SOTG) whenever they step onto the field. SOTG has been integral to the culture of UPA/USAU throughout ultimate’s development in the past few decades. At the top level of USAU associated competition, either in the college or post-college club division, there are also trained observers who are supposed to settle disputes. Players still call fouls but the observer can be consulted. Note that while only those players in college may play in the college division, anyone can form or join a team and compete in the club division. Any one that ponies up the $50 a year registration fee USAU asks for that is. Theoretically group of players can spontaneously form a team and compete at the top level. By winning enough games at sectionals, teams move onto regionals and eventually nationals. This openeness, along with the self-officiated nature of the game, makes ultimate somewhat unique among those activities we call organized sports.

Ok, now that I have gone over the basics, I’ll try to get into the current debate as best as I understand it. The immediate genesis of ultimate’s current identity crisis can be traced to the creation of the AUDL in the spring of 2012. American Ultimate Disc League was created to be the first professional ultimate league. It consisted of 8 (or was it 6?) teams based in the relative Northeast. Specifically Connecticut, Rhode Island, Philadelphia, Detroit, Columbus, OH, Indianapolis, and a couple of teams in smaller markets such as Kentucky and maybe a few other places. The teams played each other in a regular season and eventually had a playoff where Philadelphia was crowned champion. Games were generally held at high school or small municipal stadiums, though I know Detroit played in the Silverdome at least partially. Instead of tournaments, there were single games, one or two per weekend. Players were paid a pittance, around $50 as far as I know, the exact number is not key to our discussion. Some franchises may have also had small revenue sharing agreements. However, transportation, housing, and uniforms were handled by each team’s budget, which represents a significant saving for players who might otherwise pay up to a couple of thousands of dollars out of pocket a season to go to tournaments. Players were recruited from local club teams, but the best players generally opted to remain with their old teams, some of which have been around and successful for decades.

The AUDL teams fielded were certainly talented but nowhere near the best ultimate had to offer. Games were not televised or broadcasted as far as I know, and attendance was middling. There was also some serious controversy at the tail end of the season when the league suspended both the CT and RI team for filing a complaint against expansion. There was apparently some disagreement over the interpretation of the commission the league awarded to the franchises. CT believe that the creation of expansion teams in 2013 in New York and Boston would violate a 100 miles exclusivity clause while the league argued that New York and Boston teams were in 2012 contract already and the territoriality clause did no apply. Or something. Needless to say, I never saw the contract and while I knew a few players on the CT team I didn’t investigate too deeply, nor do I think they really knew what was going on either. In any case, RI dropped its suit against the league and was reinstated, and so did CT. Except the team owed some large sum of court costs to the league and was barred from finishing the season until it was paid. The owners didn’t have the money so the team shut down prematurely. So that’s the AUDL.

It turns out that the Philadelphia team was also somehow jilted by the league and decided to ditch and form a new league, along with the owner of the CT team. Thus was the MLU born this winter. Major League Ultimate will have its inaugural season in 2013 and will consist of 8 teams, 4 on the east coast and 4 on the west. Vancouver, Seattle, Portland, and San Francisco for the West and Boston, New York, Philly, and Toronto (?) for the East. Each division will play within itself until the postseason. That’s about all I know of the MLU other than it has a cooler website and perhaps a more polished social media presence. Both the MLU and AUDL use referees that call fouls proactively and one or both have slightly modified field and rules. But again, I’m not particularly concerned with details at this point.

Third, we have a restructuring of the USAU club system that has long been in the works. There is now something called the Triple Crown Tour and also a segregation of club teams into divisions. I think they are Pro, Elite, Select, and Classic. The top two are required to compete in a few premier events and also get priority inclusion in other tournaments if there happen to be an excessive numbers of team interested. I think the top teams also get byes to/in regionals. For the first year of the system USAU has picked the teams in the top divisions, something like 4 for the Pro and 8 for the Elite each for Open, Women, and Mixed. In the future I think there are ways for teams to move between divisions based on success. Much like relegation in the English Premier League or other soccer leagues around the world. Competition is still in the tournament format where teams may play 6-8 games a weekend with minimal rest in between. Games usually last 1-2 hrs and teams play all day. Geographical regions and smaller sections still get a set number of bids to nationals based on regular season results and any team who does well enough in the official championship series can still make their way to the top.

Perhaps more significant then any restructuring, however, is the fact that many of the premier club tournaments as well as much of the college championship series will now be streamed live on ESPN3 and available online. This is perhaps the largest step towards increasing exposure that ultimate has taken ever. While CBSSports had been broadcasting tape-delayed championship games for a few years now, they were tape delayed, shown at inconvenient times, and no one has CBSSports anyways. This ESPN3 deal is pretty huge.

So, why did I just spend over an hour writing about the recent development in ultimate? Because there appears to be a drastic change in culture on the horizon. Now is a time when lots of people are debating the future direction for ultimate and even what ultimate stands for. All of this might be a little weird to someone who doesn’t play but to most players ultimate is much more than just a sport. It is a culture, a lifestyle, and a way of life. I am sure that this is true for many sports to some degree but to me it seems to be on a deeper level when ultimate is concerned. Maybe it’s because the sport is still relatively new and small that we players feel a sense of ownership. Imagine being a soccer player who knows the commissioner of FIFA or the EPL socially or if you are a basketball player who had the NCAA selection committee over for brunch the other day. I think the concept of SOTG and self-officiating has given each and every player a larger stake in each and every game and we feel like we are responsible, in a way, for its propagation. We know that there isn’t some giant and omnipotent organization running the show. We have the future of the sport in our hands. That, in part, is why there is so much debate over the professional leagues and the direction of the sport.

It also seems to me that people are much more invested in ultimate than a lot of other sports. Perhaps it’s because it is something that is relatively easy to keep participating in after one finishes school. There are plenty of pick up games and recreational leagues around the country and as I said, anyone with enough talent and teammates can form a club league and compete withe the big boys. Sports such as football, lacrosse, hockey need much more infrastructure and more extensive facilities to exist post-college. An ultimate field can be set up with 8 cones on a piece of grass or even dirt. It’s easily accessible, much like soccer. But even in soccer, as far as I know, one cannot simply form a team that can enter the same tournament as the NY Redbulls or LA Galaxy. Maybe in England there is a more developed structure for amateur club teams to compete and advance regionally and nationally, but I think ultimate is unique in this respect in the US.

There is also the social aspect of the sport. Due to the nature of competition, where tournaments are usually full weekend affairs and frequently quite some distance away, ultimate players tend to spend a lot of time with their teammates. In addition to the practices essential to any sports team, there are endless hours spent in cars, hotel rooms, restaurants, and other people’s houses. All of this builds strong relationships between the players who remain on a team year after year. If you don’t like at least most of your teammates, you would probably go crazy and quit. This intense self selection process leads to strong bonds. There are of course differences between players ***this is where the manuscript ends and I really have no idea where I was going with that sentence but it might be something about…***, especially with regards to the level of competition each individual subscribes to. How “serious” they are, if you will. But it seems to me that up to very recently, even the most “serious” players have kept in touch with the goofy and quirky aspect of the sport when they are off the field. It also seems to me that the newer powerhouse programs developing in the various state schools do not have this connection with the “traditional” ultimate community and/or culture.

This brings me to inclusiveness, which is a loaded word in most any context. To me, and to many others, inclusiveness and the embracing of diversity is a hallmark of ultimate. While ultimate has long been a relatively white-collared and educated sport, stemming from its popularity in selective colleges, the pickup scene sees players from all walks of life.  To me, being welcoming to new players is a very important part of the sport. Perhaps it is because it isn’t a particularly popular sport and we can’t afford to be choosy. Perhaps we are just more open-minded people. But whatever the reason, I like it. I also like having the feeling that we, as ultimate players, are different from participants in other sports. Something about being an underdog or an minority or fighting against the establishment is appealing to me, and I would assume, to a major segment of the ultimate community.

Sure, I play the game because I love the game, the graceful physical drama we act out on the field, but I am also drawn to the community by this spirit of togetherness and rambunctious rebelliousness. While there are certainly players who play solely for the pure joy of competition and skying the shit out of some chumps and there are surely others who just love hanging out and doing boat races, I believe that the community as a whole exists somewhere in between the extremes. A bell curve, if you will. Which is great. But it also produces the inertia that prevents the general philosophy of ultimate from shifting too far too quickly. I think the slew of professional and more commercial options is definitely shifting the focus towards professionalism, competition, and the homogeneity of mainstream sports; but on the other hand, I think that there is and will be enough resistance that the shift will be slow and incremental enough that only those on the very edge of the scale will be totally alienated. There is a place for bros/goons/call and response…so long as they don’t try to take over the whole sport.

Basically, everyone, calm the fuck down. Lets not turn into a bunch of fundamentalists here. But what do I know, I’ve been in Asia for the last month and for all I know SOTG could have already gone the way of Mao…

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