Palace in Bangkok
Sightseeing in Singapore
Holy Cows! The Indian diaspora in South-East Asia.
Gilded Thai Statue
Buddhist Monk
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Notes from South-East Asia. Summer 1999.
FROM SWINGIN' SINGAPORE TO MISS SAIGON
Right now I'm writing from Hue, Vietnam's ancient capital. I had planned on sending e-mails at the three-week mark of our holiday but, unfortunately, we were in Cambodia just then and it seems the information superhighway has temporarily bypassed the poor, war-torn country. So now I’ve set myself the task of bringing you up to date on our travels through 5 different countries: Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. Geographically speaking, we’ve covered an area smaller than Ontario but the cultures are quite distinct one from the other.
First, Singapore. For all the disparaging remarks regarding its strict and antiseptic nature, we thoroughly enjoyed the city-state. Does Big Brother really keep on eye on its citizens as we’re led to believe back in Canada? Perhaps, but my impression was that most Singaporeans had little difficulty with photo radars, heavy vandalism fines etc. if it meant civil roads and a clean city. Yes, there was an ant-colony like efficiency but it was a city that worked. And our friends showed us it did have life, taking us to lively open-air food stalls, elegant shopping districts and the trendy Quay where renovated colonial houses found new life as cafes, bistros and discotheques. Very enjoyable.
Considering the first country on our tour was geographically small, it was not too long until we were in Malaysia. For me, the most salient characteristic of Malaysia was its modernity. By way of introduction, the highway to Kuala Lumpur was wide, smooth, efficient. It was the 401 cutting a swath through jungles and rubber or palm oil plantations. An ordinary road by Canadian standards, but for me it was quite striking after having lived in small-town China for 10 months.
When we arrived at the heart of K.L., Malaysia’s political and cultural capital, John seemed disoriented despite having lived there from 1985 to 1987. The buildings, roads and new modes of transport were unrecognizable to him; it was a testament to the speed with which the country had bulleted into the new millennium. Twelve years ago they had small jeepneys that putted through the streets. Now they’ve installed an above-ground public transport system that zips through the city, high above the bustle and past futuristic glass and steel structures. K.L.’s architecture is quite stunning, actually, with its colossal mosques, its 7-storey lotus-shaped Arts Centre, it’s hour glass-shaped Taxation Centre skyscraper and, of course, one of K.L.’s claim to fame, the Petronas Towers: two space-agey, shimmering silver, rocketship-like structures that have the distinction of being the tallest buildings in the world.
Neighbouring Thailand was a country of vibrant colour - from its architecture and cuisine to its nightlife. Savoury chili red, saffron orange and lemon grass green for the palate while the facades of buildings and temples drew from a palette of jewel tones. Thai architecture, particularly that of the grand palace, was breathtaking and quite unlike anything I’d ever seen before. The most distinctive detail were the gold-gilded roof finials which rose like long, thin plumes tipped with an elegant flourish.
Beyond sightseeing, Bangkok had incredible nightlife. At dusk, the city slinks into its chili red attire and seduces. We strolled down animated streets, overspent at the night markets, and feasted at amazing restaurants. And, of course, we couldn’t miss their renowned evening shows! WOW! Amongst other things we caught a transvestite show which was indisputably the best I’d ever seen. They were so beautiful, shapely and sexy I pitied any hetero man watching.
When we left the gleaming world of Thailand's modern capital. We went from an industrialized country to a, well, not so affluent country. At the border the difference between the two was striking. Thailand's smooth highway ended and literally turned to dust. The road that we were introduced to at the border - in fact every road in the border town - was a track of dirt congested with oxen carts and junky scooters. "Dirt road" would be on a good day; on a bad day, after a bout of rain it would become a mess of mud. We caught it on a bad day.
We settled into a cheap guest house and when the rain subsided we ventured into the ramshackle town in search of food. Not much luck. The best we could find was a "food" stall with plastic chairs and a muddy floor. On the counter were six pots which were topped with iron lids in a vain attempt to keep away the sizable fly population. The stall woman lifted the first lid…Ugh! There were congealed substances floating amidst over-boiled lumps. The second and third pots had the same insipid colour as the first one, only different indiscernible lumps. She lifted the fourth lid….Eeeyikes! This one had more colour than the others - a murky green. The fifth one… Puah! Hard-boiled eggs swimming in a black liquid. We were down to our last pot. We hadn't eaten anything all day so you can't imagine how much anguish this was causing us. We were crossing our toes and fingers, praying to the gods and the upper case God. "Please let this last pot be good. Please let it edible…" She unceremoniously lifted the last lid… Uuuuuugggggh!… "We'll take the first one - but only half a bowl please."
Am I painting a alluring picture of Cambodia? You'll be surprised to hear, though, that it was the most rewarding of the South East Asian countries we'd visited. The name "Cambodia" conjures up images of Khmer Rouge and strife - certainly a country to avoid. Now, of course, the war is over and the people are eager to rebuild. Yet the outside world still seems reticent to enter Cambodia, either for travel or for business. The result is that the country has a refreshingly untouched, unAmericanized, undiscovered quality about it. Add to that its rich history (most notably its golden Angkorian period and the dramatic events of the past two and a half decades) and you have a recipe for a unique and unforgettable travel experience.
That said, the road from the border town to Angkor was pure hell. I am convinced it was the worst road I've ever seen or will ever see. I was dumbfounded that they called it a highway, let alone the country's major highway - it was really an unpaved, two-laned, 200-kilometer string of pot holes. Did I say pot holes? I meant craters. Really.
Perhaps to absorb the shocks but more likely to make extra money they packed 18 of us in the back of their pick-up truck. John had a two inch wide seat on the side of the truck while I was sitting luxury class on top of the knapsacks. It was certainly not for most travelers but I would say that we endured the crowded, bumpy ride surprisingly well. Perhaps because the truck broke down 4 times, allowing us a breather as they repaired it; or perhaps it was the novelty of the situation. Our guide was also fascinating to talk to, adding a personal dimension to what little I knew of the war. In imperfect but commendable English he communicated to us how inadequate and uneducated he felt because he had to forego school when the fighting started. He felt a profound sadness for himself and for his country, and you could read it in his eyes. As we passed by patches of shelled road or the remains of blown up bridges, he would wax melancholic about the lost generations. The difficult road then seemed congruent with the Cambodian experience and we suffered more easily the discomfort of the 11-hour ride.
We arrived at Siem Reap (the town close to the ancient city of Angkor) shortly after sunset. After a nondescript dinner we returned to our hotel and planted our sore behinds on the bed for the rest of the evening. The next morning I had a slight fever but it didn't deter me from getting up and seeing the sights. And what incredible sights! Angkor basked in its golden era around the ninth and tenth century and was abandoned forever after the Siamese successfully invaded and sacked the city. The wooden houses, which formed the majority of Ankor, had all long since decayed and succumbed to the jungle. The ancient civilization, though, left an impressive legacy in its stone temples and administrative buildings. The main building, Angkor Wat, covers roughly the same area as Toronto’s Skydome. Now, as much as I marvel at the engineering feat involved in creating the Skydome, Angkor Wat somehow instills more awe - perhaps because it was constructed over a thousand years ago. The weathered edifices had a romantic appeal and led one to wonder about the culture and people that undertook the grand projects. Despite my slight fever and intermittent rain, we spent the whole day exploring, getting lost in labyrinthian passageways, climbing steep stairs for sweeping vistas and examining religious carvings and bas reliefs that glorified the art of war.
In Angkor, the highlight for us was actually a temple area call Ta Prohn. Angkor Wat is Cambodia's showpiece and as such is preserved using modern know-how. Ta Prohn, however, has been left to nature's devices. Hundreds of years of sub-tropical jungle have invaded the grounds: ferns nuzzle into crevices, bushes obscure facades, variegated mosses drape the walls and 10 to 20-metre Banyan trees topple columns. The air carried jungle sounds and an overwhelming feeling of jungle density. In comparison to Angor Wat, this place brought a greater sense of mystery and discovery. In Ta Prohn an imagination was a requisite as you walked along the crumbling colonnades past broken finials and eroded sculptures. The unpreserved relics, all strewn in jigsaw puzzle disarray, could only allude to a former glory. Like muffled whispers revealing only fragmented secrets from the long vanished civilization.
In Cambodia we also stayed a few days in the capital city of Phnom Penh but Angor was arguably the highlight. From Phnom Penh we made our way into Vietnam, the first destination being Ho Chi Minh City, a.k.a. Saigon. In H.C.M.C. I noticed the people had lighter skin than the other South East Asian countries but they shared the same warm and smiley disposition. I also noticed there were a lot more people sporting “traditional” clothing - in particular, there were many conical straw hats and many women wearing what they called an "Ao Dai". Worn with flowing silk pants, the Ao Dai looks like a knee-length dress with side slits up to the waist. Unlike many traditional Asian clothes, the cut of the Ao Dai follows the contour of the body with the end result being something that looked both comfortable and sexy.
Speaking of sexy, I should tell you about my Saigon Saturday night. John was feeling a bit sluggish that evening and decided to make it an e-mail night at the hotel. I went off exploring and when I was ready to return I flagged down a motorcycle taxi. He charged me an exorbitant amount which I categorically rejected. While I was haggling for a better price, a petite and dolled-up young woman approached on her scooter. A second look at her and then came the realization she was actually a transvestite. She said: "Where you from? I take you your home, okay?" I don't know what possessed me but I hopped on. What an unlikely scene: Twinkling city lights, cooler night air, pagodas and monuments floodlit just for me. And there I was on the back of Miss Saigon's scooter, her long tresses snatched up by the wind, wisps of it slapping at my face. It might have been romantic had she been a real woman and I a real, well, hetero.
Then the scene turned ugly. She reached behind and squeezed my knee. She asked, "I give you nice massage, okay?"
--"Um, no thank you."
"I give you nice massage, okay?"
--"I'm sorry, I have my man waiting for me at the hotel."
"Oh…I give quick massage, okay? Very short time. Take you back."
Um, well, you can't blame a girl for trying.
The next morning we visited Vietnam's most popular museum. The present name of the museum escapes me but formerly, before the government opened up the tourist industry to attract foreigners, it was called the "Museum of American War Crimes". Not a very palatable title for Western visitors - especially Americans - so naturally that had to be changed if they wanted tourist dollars. It's presently the "War Memorial Museum" or something to that effect. Anyway, the visit was very disturbing, as one might expect. Photos of atrocities perpetrated by Americans included scarred women and children that survived a napalm blast, forests reduced to wastelands from the use of agent orange and a smiling G.I. holding up a decapitated head. Almost as unsettling as the images was the manner in which the exhibits were presented. At times we found them gratuitous, such as the two-headed human fetus, mal-formed from radiation and preserved in a jar of formaldehyde. Further, we had the impression the museum was being used as a propaganda machine. Inasmuch as I felt sympathy for the Vietnamese victims, the presentation of the photos and documents seemed very one-sided; they seemed to want to instill a hatred towards Americans, amassing every manner of evidence to try and prove Yankees are a nefarious and cold-blooded lot. In the end, from my perspective, the sensationalistic propaganda served only to undermine their credibility. A plaque at the entrance of the museum asserted the museum was erected in the hope of abolishing the atrocities of war. I left the museum, and South East Asia in general, rather cynical. In two weeks of travel we'd seen huge 1000-year old Angkorian murals depicting triumphant warriors, we'd walked through the Cambodian killing fields, we'd been reminded of the Vietnam War, we'd read of the current events unfolding in Kosovo. What was impressed upon me was the human capacity to hate and destroy.
Still in the Saigon area, but on a lighter note, we took a day trip to the Mekong Delta. Very enjoyable. The scenery was redolent of my father's island in the Philippines: coconut palms, banana trees, pigs and free range chickens, thatched straw huts and gentle folk. There was also a "coconut temple" built by an eccentric foreigner who founded a religion centred around the worship of the venerable coconut. We ate some tender coconut flesh and sipped some coconut milk. We chanted "Mmmm, yummmm!" a couple of times but that was the extent of our worship. Aside from coconuts, we also sampled a dizzying array of tropical fruits. Everything from the familiar bananas and pineapples to the sort-of-exotic mango, papaya, passion fruit, lychee, starfruit and guava. Then there was the ultra-exotic variety: soursop, pomelo, sapadila, dragon fruit, rambutan, langostines and durian. To describe each one would be beyond the scope of this little e-mail (which is rapidly turning into a novel). Suffice it to say most of them were so alien to me they might as well have been imported from a planet in Alpha Centauri.
From Saigon it was a couple of long distance buses to Hue, the ancient capital of Vietnam. Here was the country's gold mine of historical pagodas, temples and tombs and the best way to view them was by taking a pleasant boat ride down the Perfume River. Unfortunately, we found out later that our tour boat ticket did not include admission onto the actual grounds. Worse, the entrance fee for foreigners was 10 times the price for Vietnamese. Some Westerners, content to see the monuments from the boat, opted out of the entrance fees or were selective about which ones they entered. I, however, was able to waltz in paying only Vietnamese prices. I'd befriended a couple of Vietnamese students before the boat trip and they helped me pretend I was Vietnamese, babbling away to me in their language while I'd nod my head as if I understood. I quickly acquired a Vietnamese vocabulary of "yes", "no" and "one (ticket) please". It was my little bout of mischief. And I’d have to say, I like my face; it's come in handy throughout Asia.
Our last stop in Vietnam was Hanoi, 9 hours from the Chinese border. As the nation's capital it had much in common with Canada's counterpart, Ottawa. Aside from the obvious embassies and civil servants, both are small-ish cities with clean tree-lined streets and quaint old buildings. But one thing I'm sure Ottawa does not have is a staid, gray mausoleum housing the embalmed remains of Ho Chi Minh.
After Hanoi we took a sleeper train to China to continue our adventures in that mammoth country. So, I'll leave you at the Chinese border and when I have the opportunity to write again I'll pick you up from there.
St. Basel's Cathedral
St. Petersburg Facade
Moscow Winter
Onion-domed church, Moscow
Tallin, capital of Estonia
Courtyard in Prague, Czech Republic
The mountains that inspired countless watercolours.
Guilin: One of the most enchanting places on earth.
Me swimming in the river.
Felucca drifting down the Nile.
Mike (far right) and I in Khan-Khalili.
