Thursday, November 29, 2007
Rolling With KL's VIP
I came to Kuala Lumpur to catch a flight. One day, two nights, quick and dirty.
Rolling With KL's Entourage
I came to Kuala Lumpur (or "KL" as the locals call it) to catch a flight. One day, two nights, quick and dirty, nothing terribly glamorous or exciting until...
I arrived mid-afternoon and put down my bags, grabbed my walking shoes and took to the streets for exploration. Staying in the Golden Triangle business district I passed numerous banks, office buildings, franchised American coffee shops along the main road. The most "interesting" thing I saw in this concrete jungle was a side street filled with tiki-style cheese ball bars and clubs with cliche names such as "The Beach Club" and "Dancing Queen." I made note and continued on eventually hopping the monorail back to my hostel down the road hoping to run into a potential dinning partner.
There were no dining partners, only some hippies in the front area drinking beer and waxing philosophical about some minor and pointless details of world. I asked the man at the front desk if there was any good Malaysian food nearby. He was less than helpful and I set out on a hunt for food and started retracing my footsteps from the afternoon. I was a few blocks away when approached by a man asking if I knew where "The Beach Club" was. Funny enough, it was one of the only places in KL of which I did know the location.
Eddie, British guy living in KL, was meeting a friend he had met on a plane from Bangkok a few months prior and invited me along. Sure, I thought. I could always leave if it was awkward or lame, but I couldn't pass up the chance to get to know some locals. Little did I know that these weren't just any locals...they were KL's own VIPs.
We walked into the bar blaring the anticipated cheesy (buy delightfully so) mix of feel-good dance music and found our host, James, and his entourage - a motley crew of about 7 Chinese, Malay and Indian men all looking closer to Silicon Valley dorks than professional clubbers. The tables were loaded with buckets of champagne and two Johnny Walker bottles so large that they were hooked up on swinging metal tripods for easy pouring. Immediately a flute of champagne was put into my hand (garnished with a cherry) by the bar worker who had been assigned to stand by and top off our glasses whenever they got low - sometimes by their own initiative and sometimes at the prompting of host, snap snap.
This wasn't a celebration, just a regular old Wednesday night - the same thing had happened Tuesday, Monday, Sunday...back to last Thursday. No money exchanged hands. All was done on good credit. Apparently James was not only a dedicated partier, but also a shrewd businessman with a textile import/export company, owned a few bars (not the ones we were at) and had numerous government contracts. Most importantly, though, he was a really good guy - a graceful and generous host out to surround himself with happiness more than anything. The DJs, waitstaff and everyone at each cheesy bar we visited were all smiles.
I enjoyed the drink and the dance, but knew that I couldn't/didn't want to keep up with these seasoned VIPs. When the live Thai pop band took the stage for their second set at the second bar, I thought it best to leave. Unfortunately that meant that I missed a ride in the 4 jeeps that would come to pick everyone up, but my departure kept the memory (and the next day) pleasant.
I arrived mid-afternoon and put down my bags, grabbed my walking shoes and took to the streets for exploration. Staying in the Golden Triangle business district I passed numerous banks, office buildings, franchised American coffee shops along the main road. The most "interesting" thing I saw in this concrete jungle was a side street filled with tiki-style cheese ball bars and clubs with cliche names such as "The Beach Club" and "Dancing Queen." I made note and continued on eventually hopping the monorail back to my hostel down the road hoping to run into a potential dinning partner.
There were no dining partners, only some hippies in the front area drinking beer and waxing philosophical about some minor and pointless details of world. I asked the man at the front desk if there was any good Malaysian food nearby. He was less than helpful and I set out on a hunt for food and started retracing my footsteps from the afternoon. I was a few blocks away when approached by a man asking if I knew where "The Beach Club" was. Funny enough, it was one of the only places in KL of which I did know the location.
Eddie, British guy living in KL, was meeting a friend he had met on a plane from Bangkok a few months prior and invited me along. Sure, I thought. I could always leave if it was awkward or lame, but I couldn't pass up the chance to get to know some locals. Little did I know that these weren't just any locals...they were KL's own VIPs.
We walked into the bar blaring the anticipated cheesy (buy delightfully so) mix of feel-good dance music and found our host, James, and his entourage - a motley crew of about 7 Chinese, Malay and Indian men all looking closer to Silicon Valley dorks than professional clubbers. The tables were loaded with buckets of champagne and two Johnny Walker bottles so large that they were hooked up on swinging metal tripods for easy pouring. Immediately a flute of champagne was put into my hand (garnished with a cherry) by the bar worker who had been assigned to stand by and top off our glasses whenever they got low - sometimes by their own initiative and sometimes at the prompting of host, snap snap.
This wasn't a celebration, just a regular old Wednesday night - the same thing had happened Tuesday, Monday, Sunday...back to last Thursday. No money exchanged hands. All was done on good credit. Apparently James was not only a dedicated partier, but also a shrewd businessman with a textile import/export company, owned a few bars (not the ones we were at) and had numerous government contracts. Most importantly, though, he was a really good guy - a graceful and generous host out to surround himself with happiness more than anything. The DJs, waitstaff and everyone at each cheesy bar we visited were all smiles.
I enjoyed the drink and the dance, but knew that I couldn't/didn't want to keep up with these seasoned VIPs. When the live Thai pop band took the stage for their second set at the second bar, I thought it best to leave. Unfortunately that meant that I missed a ride in the 4 jeeps that would come to pick everyone up, but my departure kept the memory (and the next day) pleasant.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Singapore: Fact or Fiction
There is no litter in Singapore.
Fiction. While litter is more the exception than the rule, it's here. I've seen some paper on the ground and a bag floating in the river. Ha!
The penalty for graffiti in Singapore is flogging.
Fact. Yep, that's true (remember Michael Fay in 1994?) However, there is still some defacing going on.
Gum is illegal in Singapore.
Fiction. You can't get Wrigley's, Extra, Bubblicious or any of the more traditional chewing gum brands, but gum sales are allowed in Singapore for "health related" products including teeth whitening gum and nicotine gum. Mmmm!
Fiction. While litter is more the exception than the rule, it's here. I've seen some paper on the ground and a bag floating in the river. Ha!
The penalty for graffiti in Singapore is flogging.
Fact. Yep, that's true (remember Michael Fay in 1994?) However, there is still some defacing going on.
Gum is illegal in Singapore.
Fiction. You can't get Wrigley's, Extra, Bubblicious or any of the more traditional chewing gum brands, but gum sales are allowed in Singapore for "health related" products including teeth whitening gum and nicotine gum. Mmmm!
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
The Wonders of the World Wide Web and Singapore
I arrived in Singapore a little overwhelmed. This is a big city and I had only 3 days. I didn't want to get sucked into duck tours (TM) and the tourist trash (expensive and not worth the time). I wanted the real Singapore - you know, the kind you see on the Travel Channel.
I logged on to the Internet and went to the Smith College website. Lishan Yang, a girl who had lived in my dorm was from Singapore. I hadn't seen or talked to her for about 6 years and wondered if she was still around and, more importantly, if Smith was up-to-date with her contact info. I cut and pasted her email address into the "To" field and zipped of a quick "I'm in Singapore!" Turns out she was too (and had Monday off of work) - fantastic. Connection success in under 24 hours!
I've had a great time in Singapore thanks to Shan. I've driven around to different neighborhoods, enjoyed her company at Singapore's world-class Asian Civilizations Museum, asked a multitude of questions about local life, toured around Arab Street and tried a variety of unique culinary treats - e.g. chicken rice, porridge and frogs legs. Today I even had little fish eat the dead skin off of my feet...and boy, did they have a feast! Mmmmm!
I logged on to the Internet and went to the Smith College website. Lishan Yang, a girl who had lived in my dorm was from Singapore. I hadn't seen or talked to her for about 6 years and wondered if she was still around and, more importantly, if Smith was up-to-date with her contact info. I cut and pasted her email address into the "To" field and zipped of a quick "I'm in Singapore!" Turns out she was too (and had Monday off of work) - fantastic. Connection success in under 24 hours!
I've had a great time in Singapore thanks to Shan. I've driven around to different neighborhoods, enjoyed her company at Singapore's world-class Asian Civilizations Museum, asked a multitude of questions about local life, toured around Arab Street and tried a variety of unique culinary treats - e.g. chicken rice, porridge and frogs legs. Today I even had little fish eat the dead skin off of my feet...and boy, did they have a feast! Mmmmm!
Welcome to Bangok...Take Two
WARNING: This post is for mature audiences - reader discretion advised.
My first visit to Bangkok turned me off of the place - all the party boys and unkempt expats strutting around with their "little Thai girls" in tow - bought and paid for. With some of Asia's cheapest flights, however, it seemed to be the best option to launch the next portion of my trip. I booked a flight from BKK to Singapore for the 24th of November and arrived back in Bangkok a day early with a strategy that I hoped would improve my experience the second time around: "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." I would go to an infamous Bangkok ping pong show.
Wanting to somewhat balance the evening (and add a little irony to whole night's program), I started at Cabbages & Condoms, a swanky Thai restaurant that runs AIDS education programs with its profits. The atmosphere was top. The food was good. And most importantly, the ping pong show was only a tuk tuk ride away.
Not being much of a sex show aficionado myself...or even knowing any, I put my fate in the hands of the driver. His local knowledge would surely lead my friends and I somewhere that would provide an authentic sex tourist experience (without going over too many lines...this was to be a purely anthropological mission after all.)
We pulled up to a storefront that was tucked among a row of seemingly legitimate businesses. The ground floor was filled with cafeteria-style tables and Thai men looking bored and watching some stale video they must have seen a million times. My assumption was that this charade was merely a decoy for the authorities. Passing officials might write this establishment off as a tame bar worthy of little or no investigation - a thinly veiled cover for the otherwise shady operation we witnessed when shepherded upstairs by a large Indian man. We were charged 600 Baht each and shown inside to black vinyl seats encircling the similarly black stage.
The lights were low. A single girl stood on the stage swaying back and forth to soft rock with romantic lyrics - the kind that make the soundtracks of movies staring Kevin Costner. She was slowly and unenthusiastically pulling a florescent ribbon out of her lady bits. She looked bored. Everyone else looked bored too. I wondered when the ping pong balls would come and how far they would fly.
After the few yards the ribbon came to its end the music switched to an uptempo number more fitting for a strip show. A girl came out in tall shoes holding two coke bottles - one empty, one full. Long story short, she emptied one into the other without pouring it directly. Strange. Happy Birthday started playing as she picked up the bottles and walked off the stage. No one was celebrating a birthday, but a Japanese businessman with wallet open was selected. He was summonsed up to the stage as a girl walked out with a fake cake covered in over sized candles. He held the cake as she used a pipe and her lady muscles to blow them out one by one. He was amused. I was still waiting to be impressed - where were the ping pong balls?
A series of girls came out, all lackluster and looking mechanical in their movements. This seemed like a crap job (not that that hadn't been my assumption). One girl pulled a chain of covered razors out of her and cut a piece of paper into a hat for another Japanese businessman (the first part with her you know what and the second with her hands). Another girl came out with a large blue marker and a piece of white paper. She inserted the pen, crouched down like a crab and proceeded to write "Welcome to Bangkok." Finally a girl came out holding ping pong balls in hand - this was it, this was the true Bangkok experience I had been waiting for hoping it would redeem this otherwise seedy and sad city for me. Surprise...it didn't.
The girl inserted the ping pong balls. I prepared to block any oncoming balls from hitting me. Ping, ping, pong, pong, pong. Three balls dropped out, the first two landing in the glass placed between her legs and the third missing the target. This was the lamest ping pong show I had ever imagined. Where was the danger? Where were the ball flying en mass bouncing off of walls and creating an atmosphere of awe and chaos?
I looked around. No one seemed very impressed accept for the Japanese business men who periodically opened their wallets to keep a bevy of girls draped around their shoulders. There were other curious tourist just like me who ranged from bored to repulsed. We stayed through the rotation and left when the ribbon girl reappeared. Once was enough. I think I've seen Bangkok...don't need to go back.
My first visit to Bangkok turned me off of the place - all the party boys and unkempt expats strutting around with their "little Thai girls" in tow - bought and paid for. With some of Asia's cheapest flights, however, it seemed to be the best option to launch the next portion of my trip. I booked a flight from BKK to Singapore for the 24th of November and arrived back in Bangkok a day early with a strategy that I hoped would improve my experience the second time around: "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em." I would go to an infamous Bangkok ping pong show.
Wanting to somewhat balance the evening (and add a little irony to whole night's program), I started at Cabbages & Condoms, a swanky Thai restaurant that runs AIDS education programs with its profits. The atmosphere was top. The food was good. And most importantly, the ping pong show was only a tuk tuk ride away.
Not being much of a sex show aficionado myself...or even knowing any, I put my fate in the hands of the driver. His local knowledge would surely lead my friends and I somewhere that would provide an authentic sex tourist experience (without going over too many lines...this was to be a purely anthropological mission after all.)
We pulled up to a storefront that was tucked among a row of seemingly legitimate businesses. The ground floor was filled with cafeteria-style tables and Thai men looking bored and watching some stale video they must have seen a million times. My assumption was that this charade was merely a decoy for the authorities. Passing officials might write this establishment off as a tame bar worthy of little or no investigation - a thinly veiled cover for the otherwise shady operation we witnessed when shepherded upstairs by a large Indian man. We were charged 600 Baht each and shown inside to black vinyl seats encircling the similarly black stage.
The lights were low. A single girl stood on the stage swaying back and forth to soft rock with romantic lyrics - the kind that make the soundtracks of movies staring Kevin Costner. She was slowly and unenthusiastically pulling a florescent ribbon out of her lady bits. She looked bored. Everyone else looked bored too. I wondered when the ping pong balls would come and how far they would fly.
After the few yards the ribbon came to its end the music switched to an uptempo number more fitting for a strip show. A girl came out in tall shoes holding two coke bottles - one empty, one full. Long story short, she emptied one into the other without pouring it directly. Strange. Happy Birthday started playing as she picked up the bottles and walked off the stage. No one was celebrating a birthday, but a Japanese businessman with wallet open was selected. He was summonsed up to the stage as a girl walked out with a fake cake covered in over sized candles. He held the cake as she used a pipe and her lady muscles to blow them out one by one. He was amused. I was still waiting to be impressed - where were the ping pong balls?
A series of girls came out, all lackluster and looking mechanical in their movements. This seemed like a crap job (not that that hadn't been my assumption). One girl pulled a chain of covered razors out of her and cut a piece of paper into a hat for another Japanese businessman (the first part with her you know what and the second with her hands). Another girl came out with a large blue marker and a piece of white paper. She inserted the pen, crouched down like a crab and proceeded to write "Welcome to Bangkok." Finally a girl came out holding ping pong balls in hand - this was it, this was the true Bangkok experience I had been waiting for hoping it would redeem this otherwise seedy and sad city for me. Surprise...it didn't.
The girl inserted the ping pong balls. I prepared to block any oncoming balls from hitting me. Ping, ping, pong, pong, pong. Three balls dropped out, the first two landing in the glass placed between her legs and the third missing the target. This was the lamest ping pong show I had ever imagined. Where was the danger? Where were the ball flying en mass bouncing off of walls and creating an atmosphere of awe and chaos?
I looked around. No one seemed very impressed accept for the Japanese business men who periodically opened their wallets to keep a bevy of girls draped around their shoulders. There were other curious tourist just like me who ranged from bored to repulsed. We stayed through the rotation and left when the ribbon girl reappeared. Once was enough. I think I've seen Bangkok...don't need to go back.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Found
The majority of my time in Smith's Jordan house was spent at the end of the hallway of the 3rd floor. It was a gathering place filled with laughter and smiles (even during finals). My friends and I would discuss Communism, Capitalism, boys, girls, what was for dinner and well...anything. What I remember the most, however, was the carefree laughter that bounced off of the wallpapered walls.
When I graduated from college I found laughter in new locations - car cabins on road trips, the living room at 2167 Hayes, sunny days in the park, ski cabins...easy. Sometimes I'd laugh so hard I cried, even at little things that probably weren't that funny. It was easy.
Slowly, I don't know when, I started laughing less and less. Maybe it was long hours at work or more responsibility. Maybe it was higher rents or less company as the number of roommates decreased. Whatever it was, it was subtle. And whatever it was I could escape it, with laughter coming easily once again, like when with my Smith ladies on those rare long weekends in New York, San Francisco or Northampton.
I think it was at my 5th college reunion that I noticed a difference. While I enjoyed the company of my friends and chuckled at stories and things, that truly carefree laughter that consumes one wasn't there. I was constrained. No matter hard I tried, I couldn't let go. I couldn't laugh like I used to.
While there were many reasons for my decision to take a break from the life I had created for myself in San Francisco and embark on the adventure of a lifetime, finding my laughter was one of them. It's not really something I expressed to anyone, afraid that it may never come back. But, you'd never guess where it was...Laos.
In truth, it wasn't in Laos, of course - it was in me the whole time, just hiding. With the help of good company and a deep cleansing breath of total freedom, I found my laugh. It's unbridled. It's contagious. It's here again...and this time, I'm determined not to lose it.
When I graduated from college I found laughter in new locations - car cabins on road trips, the living room at 2167 Hayes, sunny days in the park, ski cabins...easy. Sometimes I'd laugh so hard I cried, even at little things that probably weren't that funny. It was easy.
Slowly, I don't know when, I started laughing less and less. Maybe it was long hours at work or more responsibility. Maybe it was higher rents or less company as the number of roommates decreased. Whatever it was, it was subtle. And whatever it was I could escape it, with laughter coming easily once again, like when with my Smith ladies on those rare long weekends in New York, San Francisco or Northampton.
I think it was at my 5th college reunion that I noticed a difference. While I enjoyed the company of my friends and chuckled at stories and things, that truly carefree laughter that consumes one wasn't there. I was constrained. No matter hard I tried, I couldn't let go. I couldn't laugh like I used to.
While there were many reasons for my decision to take a break from the life I had created for myself in San Francisco and embark on the adventure of a lifetime, finding my laughter was one of them. It's not really something I expressed to anyone, afraid that it may never come back. But, you'd never guess where it was...Laos.
In truth, it wasn't in Laos, of course - it was in me the whole time, just hiding. With the help of good company and a deep cleansing breath of total freedom, I found my laugh. It's unbridled. It's contagious. It's here again...and this time, I'm determined not to lose it.
The 4k Islands
After Vientiane I continued south, headed for the place where the Mekong spreads into 4,000 tiny islands ripe for exploration. One overnight bus, a 2-hour minibus ride and a boat, I arrived on Don Khong - the largest of the islands (32km).
The landscape in the south of Laos is very different. Flat and comparatively dry. Don Khong was no different, but had one stand-out feature - a beautifully maintained road wrapping around the island. (The Prime Minister of Laos is from Don Khong and had a hand in providing this truly enviable feature.) A few new friends and I hopped onto some rented bicycles. We rode around nearly the whole island. I think we passed 2 trucks, a small handful of motorbikes and even fewer potholes. This road represents political favors at their best.
The cycle loop was about all Don Khong had to offer so we arranged for a boat to two smaller islands right on the Cambodian border where we hoped to see the rare Irrawaddy dolphins, explore Dong Khone and Dong Det by bicycle and sleep in straw bungalows overlooking the Mekong. We were thankfully successful in all pursuits.
The bungalows were basic, but an evening sundowner on the porch made up for the slightly smelly squat toilets and hearing the nighttime snoring of neighbors. The dolphins were cooperative albeit under the water and a little difficult to view with great detail. The bicycles had less than effective breaks and made me feel like the Wicked Witch of the West...
The bikes one finds in Laos are all the same (although do vary a bit in their level of junkiness). They all have seats that are too low, handles that curve in like an old-fashioned tri-cycle, a basket on the front and only one gear. I was the 3rd bicyclist in a line of five. I saw a small boy (probably about 1-year old) crossing the dirt path. "I should stop," I thought. Then his parents called to him to stop. He slowed. I decided to keep going...just as he did. I slammed the breaks, but they were, as I mentioned, less than effective. Before I could dig my heels into the ground the boy had run into my leg and bounced off, landing on the ground. He looked up to see if anyone was watching. Everyone was. He started crying...loudly. I turned red. Onlookers glared at the white foreigner who had "run over" their child. His parents, who had seen the whole thing, brushed him off and indicated that it was no big deal. I felt evil...truly a Wicked Witch in the eyes of this munchkin.
All in all the islands were enjoyable - mellow, friendly and cheap. Not quite the magic that I found in the North, however.
The landscape in the south of Laos is very different. Flat and comparatively dry. Don Khong was no different, but had one stand-out feature - a beautifully maintained road wrapping around the island. (The Prime Minister of Laos is from Don Khong and had a hand in providing this truly enviable feature.) A few new friends and I hopped onto some rented bicycles. We rode around nearly the whole island. I think we passed 2 trucks, a small handful of motorbikes and even fewer potholes. This road represents political favors at their best.
The cycle loop was about all Don Khong had to offer so we arranged for a boat to two smaller islands right on the Cambodian border where we hoped to see the rare Irrawaddy dolphins, explore Dong Khone and Dong Det by bicycle and sleep in straw bungalows overlooking the Mekong. We were thankfully successful in all pursuits.
The bungalows were basic, but an evening sundowner on the porch made up for the slightly smelly squat toilets and hearing the nighttime snoring of neighbors. The dolphins were cooperative albeit under the water and a little difficult to view with great detail. The bicycles had less than effective breaks and made me feel like the Wicked Witch of the West...
The bikes one finds in Laos are all the same (although do vary a bit in their level of junkiness). They all have seats that are too low, handles that curve in like an old-fashioned tri-cycle, a basket on the front and only one gear. I was the 3rd bicyclist in a line of five. I saw a small boy (probably about 1-year old) crossing the dirt path. "I should stop," I thought. Then his parents called to him to stop. He slowed. I decided to keep going...just as he did. I slammed the breaks, but they were, as I mentioned, less than effective. Before I could dig my heels into the ground the boy had run into my leg and bounced off, landing on the ground. He looked up to see if anyone was watching. Everyone was. He started crying...loudly. I turned red. Onlookers glared at the white foreigner who had "run over" their child. His parents, who had seen the whole thing, brushed him off and indicated that it was no big deal. I felt evil...truly a Wicked Witch in the eyes of this munchkin.
All in all the islands were enjoyable - mellow, friendly and cheap. Not quite the magic that I found in the North, however.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
