Spring 2007 > Thailand > Part III

THE 309 STEPS

After a slow and lazy morning, we packed up and got ready to make the three hour car journey to Chiang Mai, Thailand's second city. On the way into town, there was a sign for the local English language radio station, named TITS Radio - I can't work out if they were being funny or clueless. We picked up Parn's girlfriend, Am, and then met with various family members for a whopping meal at a restaurant owned by a famous Thai singer, with photos of her adorning all the walls. And there was a guy upstairs playing a bit of traditional music from North Thailand. Despite the midges and mosquitos, it was a very nice setting.

Soon after, we took a stroll down the big night market, with assorted souvenirs, snacks and services up for grabs. Though the market itself was quite a wonderful thing, it attracted so many tourist punters, I felt sorry for the Thai stall-owners. Oh, of course, tourism is where the money's made, but someone should really do a study on the social anthropology of back-packers, because all variations on the theme were represented there: the bum-bags and bulges, the lads and ladettes, the friends of the earth, the middle-aged last-ditch sun and spirituality-seekers... It seems visiting a foreign country gives people a license to wear ridiculous clothes (which would, however, look fine and fitting on the local population), forego basic hygiene and act like a ponce. Whenever I travel, seeing fellow tourists (especially Western ones) almost always gives me an uncomfortable feeling, as it's like seeing a mirror image of yourself, except more like one you'd find in a fun house, contorted and twisted by the travel experience.

But enough self-loathing - I purchased a few postcards from a nice local photographer, while Ilan, Parn, Am and Baptiste all browsed and bought various nick-nacks. Then, it was time for us to crash at our hotel, which was far grander than any of us could have predicted; again, we felt we were far from worthy of the luxury being bestowed upon us. Hell, we wouldn't have minded even if the place stunk of durians (but there was a sign in the foyer forbidding them, so we were safe).

The next morning gave us the opportunity to try out the yummy hotel breakfast buffet and watch some godawful television. Baptiste and I despaired at the hollow use of English bandied about by the Asian TV networks, especially one documentary we were treated to about a Korean pop star called M - the inane voice-over built him up as if he were the second coming, and how running about in the sand for his album cover, choreographing a new dance routine or writing almost all his singles himself were like some incredible gifts he would bestow upon his fans as thanks for their undying support. I'm sure he's a lovely guy, but the media-managing ass-kissery was too much to stomach that morning. But more on tummy upsets later.

We took the long winding mountain road outside of Chiang Mai, up to Doi Suthep Temple. Apparently, Chiang Mai university students would have to run all the way up the road as part of their initiation ceremony. Can't say I'd want to join them. Indeed, the turning left to right started to make Ilan a little car sick, and she soon became quite attached (read: addicted) to something equivalent to a Vicks vapour stick to soothe her dizziness (even if it was actually designed to unblock stuffy noses). Once we arrived, we took a look at the 309 naga-adorned steps to the temple and thought it would be a fun idea to race to the top. Despite the intense heat and bright sunlight. Of course, we would have to do our best to avoid the other stair-climbers and mutli-lingual begging kids, but Baptiste, Ilan and myself thought we'd give it a go. Probably a big mistake. Ilan got a head start, and then Baptiste and I charged on ahead. We were quick to overtake Ilan, and we were neck-and-necking it for the next 100 steps or so, but then I took the lead. However, about 200 steps in, I slowed to a virtual crawl, my stiff legs taking each step one by one with gradually slacking pace. Concerned Mr. B was just behind, I pressed on and reached the top, only to see that I was in fact a great deal ahead. Head pounding, legs aching and pores sweating, I staggered into the conveniently located shop to get bottles of water for the competitors, then slouched in the shade to await the rest of the party. Baptiste showed up and quickly headed to the lavvy for a quick vomit and Ilan, Am and Parn arrived together at a more intelligent pace. We got our entry tickets (well, the Thai nationals didn't have to, of course, and Ilan managed to get by with being Thai yet again) and proceeded inside.

No sooner had we entered than I had to sit down - I hadn't recovered quite as much as I had thought, and was feeling quite dizzy and sick. At least it was a peaceful environment to recuperate, except for the occassional soft-ring of one of the numerous bells that surrounded the inner sanctum. Behind the temple was a wonderful purple blossom tree in front of a balcony ledge that would have offered a view to Chiang Mai if it were not for the fog - instead, it created a surreal experience of being so high up that we were surrounded by clouds. Inside the temple itself was a wonderful gold stepe and a variety of Buddhist sculptures. Am took the lead and gave us each candles and flowers which we carried as we walked around the stepe 3 times, reciting a different name to ourselves as we did. There were also different Buddhist statues to represent which day of the week you were born on, and one of those stick-shaky fortune telling things. I've forgotten the specifics of the corresponding slip that told of my future (though I remember it being pretty positive), but it was the number that struck me - 23. Now, I've always had a 'thing' about the number twenty-three, before I became aware of all the discordian belief theories and the Jim Carrey movie. And it had followed me to Thailand in a situation involving the telling of my future. Simple coincidence, or greater forces at work? Uhhhhh...the former. Or is it? Anyway, just as we were about to leave, we were sprung upon by a couple of local chancers who confronted Ilan, and this time her Thai appearance went against her, as they started speaking to her in Thai, apparently criticising her for not wearing suitable attire (even though they had ignored the skimpier Western tourists a few metres away). We upped and went with little hesitation.



Back in town, we stopped off for a big load of ice cream, but Ilan still wasn't feeling too well from the drive (and probably the stair race) and Baptiste made a mess on his arm and plopped much of a scoop on the floor like some excitable baby. However, there was then an unexpected turn of events in that Am's cousin had invited us to his house and then was to take us all out for dinner at the Riverside restaurant. Unfortunately, we were all very tired and suffering from varying degrees of illness. I'd kind of had enough of Thai food at that point, but it turned out while I was glancing at the menu at the tasty steaks and burgers, we'd already had our food ordered for us - another load of Thai dishes I couldn't stomach, plus a lot of beer to go with it. It was an exceedingly generous gesture, but we weren't in the mood, and the language barrier made it even harder to express at least something beyond a simple 'thanks'. Originally, the plan had been to stay and watch the live music, but the band didn't start playing until we had finished eating and we couldn't see them playing anyway. Basically, we didn't mean to be rude but that was clearly the impression we gave, and it didn't sit very well with any of us. It was a case of misplaced kindness, catching us at a bad time and not letting us have a say on what we wanted to do on our holiday. We called it a night around nine, but stayed up for hours in the hotel yakking away as we often did.


PACHYDERMATA AND SQUAMATA ENCOUNTERS

It was an early wake-up call for us all to take a trip to the Maesa Elephant Camp outside the city. However, by the time we got there, there wasn't going to be another show for a good few hours, so we decided to buy our tickets for later and backtrack to Mae Rim Snake Farm. Loud hip-hop and dance music played from the speakers and a giant billboard advertised it as being home to an anaconda wrestler as the star attraction. It later turned out he wasn't there at the moment as he had left with a number of specimens to be involved with the new Rambo flick, John Rambo, which was shooting in Thailand at the time. And having seen the latest preview, it seems Rambo is indeed spending his time tending to a snake farm of his own, before going back into action and exploding Burmese troops into big splats of grue. Anyway, we had a brief look around at the variety of serpents on offer, got briefly concerned by an empty cage, marvelled at the writhing tangled twists in the snake pit, and felt a little bit sad looking into the rabbit and chicken cages - luckily, we weren't around for feeding time, but we were just in time for the show.


The format of the show consisted of one guy pissing off a bunch of snakes while another commentated in a mix of Thai and hilarious English (of which I will add quotes to the description of the show). And scaring the audience witless. All of this took place in a little circular area, but the act would frequently be brought right up to the audience. Whether they liked it or not (and we were sat within easy reach). First off were three cobras, which he would tease and taunt until they made a go for him. "Oh, be careful Snakeman! Wawawawa BAN! Wawawawa BAN! Wow, Snakeman! Watch out Snakeman!" At one point, he even gave a cobra a tender kiss on the head. "Hey, he kiss the snake! Everybody take picture! Maybe he's homosexual!" He then proceeded to 'milk' the snake for venom and offer it to members of the audience if they wanted a sip. "It's not Johnnie Walker Blue Label!" Next were a trio of smaller snakes, which was a similar deal as before, except it culminated in him holding all three in his hands, with the neck of one in his mouth (if you can imagine a snake having a neck, considering they kind of are all neck). This was followed by the jumping snake. They made a big show of trying to get it out of the box, as if it were going to leap out at any moment. Then suddenly, something was flung in our direction, landing just by Ilan, causing her to let out a very long scream that did not die, even when it was revealed to be just a piece of rope. The jumping snake leapt about, latching on to the snake-wrangler's pantalons at one point, and even managed to slither out of the mini arena, towards the audience, a number of times. At one point, the wrangler hypnotised the snake and made it lie on it's back, before taking it round the audience for all to touch. It was indeed very still and calm, reminding me of the old chicken and chalk hypnosis trick. "Hey, don't worry if he bites - you die in 30 minutes, but hospital 20 minutes away!" Finally was the python ("Peetan!"), which offered up it's services to wrap around people's necks, and Parn happily obliged, as he also did having a smaller snake wrap around his head in laurel-esque fashion - not that Olly'd approve (see what I did there?). It was the kind of experience that flaunted so many safety measures that you wouldn't be able to get away with it in other parts of the world - but I guess it was all the more thrilling for it.

It was now about time to return to the elephant camp. Utenshu-san (our driver, if you recall) left us to go get some lunch first as, according to Parn, she hadn't had much of a breakfast. Okay, I thought, followed by WH-WH-WHAT? I'd been there at the breakfast buffet and she had loads! Ah, never mind. While we waited around, we got to look at some elephants! Elephants are pretty cool - like giant deformed cows really, and the smell of them (and their leavings) made me think of Somerset. Utenshu-san soon rejoined us and we were all set to go on a half-hour elephant ride around the park on top of the beasts. It was a little awkward sitting on a bench perched on a pachyderm rocking from side to side with your feet kind of nestling on it's neck with the 'driver' on the head. Not the most practical method of travel, but certainly one of the most fun I've been on. We went up and down hill, and into a little creek for a bit of splashing and trunk squirting. But by the end, I had a rather soggy, sweaty bum, which was a little unpleasant (why did I even mention it here?). Plus, my elephant was called Poo Billy.

We finished in time for a Cornetto and for the elephant show. An initial parade of fifteen or so nellies of different sizes and ages welcomed the audience with bows, squeaks and trunk waving. Then came the performances, which ranged from simple instructions (like kneeling, picking up hats, doing funny dances and such) to more complex displays, in particular the football penalty shoot-out and the art showcase, as the trunked-ones painted a variety of images which were quickly snapped up by those prepared to pay a hefty price tag. At the end, we all got a chance to take a picture with the smaller ones, which left a big patch of slobber on my trouser leg. At least I didn't have to pose with any of the male elephants which were visibly 'excited' during the final parade.


We had a late lunch at the park (which Utenshu-san also helped herself to) and returned to the hotel to rest. Come dinner time, we left Baptiste behind to sleep in front of the TV, on the French language channel, and ended up at a little restaurant by a different night market close by. After spaghetti for lunch, it was time to have another Western dish to continue my Thai food break and I chose the chicken cordon bleu (which was, according to the menu, "raped in bread crums"). Suitably satisfied, we did a little market shopping before returning to the hotel, where we ate strawberries I'd bought, dipped in sugar, from a brandy glass (there's only so much serving preparation one can do in a hotel room).

For photos, check out my Parn's Facebook, Baptiste's Chiang Mai set, and, of course, my own sets for Doi Suthep Temple and Snakes and Elephants.

Coming Soon: my adventure reaches its end - goodybe to Chiang Mai, and return to Bangkok. Plus! Sesame massage! Ancient ruins! Horrible drunkenness!

Spring 2007 > Thailand > Part II

FRIENDS REUNITED

Still reeling from "Off Load Weapons Room" next to the x-ray scanner at our departure airport (guns okay on board, just leave the ammo, okay?), Ilan was there to greet us at the Bangkok aiport upon our return from Koh Samui. She appeared to have settled into the holiday swing of things nicely, but before we returned to Parn's place, his mother took us all out for a dinner with more dishes than I've had hot dinners...you get what I mean. Then we went to the night market we had spotted previously for some omiyage (holiday souvenirs and gifts). We didn't realise quite what the scale of the market was until we arrived at an outdoor music concert and beer garden. As I walked into the venue area, a large European middle-aged man with sun-dried tomato skin staggered in front of me with his Thai wife. And as she walked past, she gave me a look that could only be described as a mix of "Get me out of here" and "I want you for breakfast". The stage itself had little desktop game machines and karaoke booths for one-song hire - just more examples of Thai ingenuity in public entertainments, such as the arcade machines which are just PS2's in boxes, and the purikura (photobooth machines) which were just a digital camera, a computer and a printer.



We sat down near the front drinking various German brews and snacking on chili-laced cashew nuts (which we used to make spicy beer, the thirst-inducing/thirst-quenching beverage). We got the full brunt of homo-erotic dance routines and mangled Thai versions of well-known R'n'B tunes (I believe their cover of The Black Eyed Peas' "My Humps" didn't contain any consonants). We also took a ride on La Roue de Paris (surely 'de Bangkok', non?) which was clearly of great joy to Baptiste. For some strange reason, Ilan insisted we spend the majority of our ride posing as if we were in a Chanel commercial. We also got to hang around with one of those painted silver dudes who you pay to make them move a little bit. Oh, I guess you're paying for the time it took for him to paint himself and get his outfit on and all, but next time, just think about what you are actually gaining from this transaction. It's a bit ridiculous, that's all. Anyway, we soon headed back home to unpack and sort out our recently returned things, and we could finally present our gifts from China to the Prasjaksattrus, which, although in woeful imbalance as a token of thanks to the incomparable generosity bestowed upon us, were happily accepted.

Another day in Bangkok was on the cards, and again we were to frequent numerous department stores to get the full-on Thai shopping experience. Baptiste decided there was too much of Thailand to see without a method of recording his adventures and bought himself a new point-and-shoot digital camera like my one to tide him over until he could invest in another one like that he had before Shanghai. After lunch and ice cream (as is de rigeur in such a climate), we thought it would be a good idea to head to the Jade Temple, but were dismayed to find it had already closed before 3.30pm. It seemed strange that they would shut a major tourist attraction when the temperature and sunlight would be at their most bearable (it was a similar deal elsewhere). Who'd want to go walk around out of the shade in the intense noon heat? Near the entrance, a couple of shady guys advised us that it would be a better idea to go on a boat trip along the Chao Phraya River. It sounds rather fishy, but I just leave Parn to natter away with them in Thai to get all the details. We make our way to the pier, but our driver tries to broker a different deal and manages to get us a trip for half price, but we end up having half the fun. All we end up doing is going in a little motor boat, spending 10 minutes to look around Wat Arun (a temple decorated with smashed crockery and the like), then back on the boat to the pier. It was an unbelievable rip-off as well: 150 baht for the boat, 20 to actually land the damn thing at the temple, 40 because we took some silly snaps with those boards where you stick your head on the body of historical/spiritual characters (the cost of which was sneakily hidden in the corner - I wonder how many people coughed up on their own free will), 20 to get into the temple (of which the second floor was cornered off for renovations) and an extra 20 for Ilan to hire a top as she wasn't suitably dressed for the Wat. Okay, so all this mounts to mere pounds and pennies, but it was a lot for half an hour of mild entertainment in the context of Thai prices, and left me very miffed indeed.

But no time to stay angry - we had more packing to do, as we were to take the night train to Parn's hometown of Phrae, in the north of Thailand. We filled up on pizza before being dropped off at the station, expecting to see some grand building much like the department stores we'd witnessed, only to find it was pretty much a platform and a track. Once on board our train, we found our sleeper carriage and our little green bunks. We try to entertain ourselves as much as possible while trying to disturb our fellow passengers as little as possible. Brief rounds of Squares, Consequences and Categories pretty much fulfill our travel game quotient, but we all thought it would be a good idea to actually get some shut-eye. While the bunks were comfortable, the frequent stops punctuate my REM and there's little sense of time or space due to the constant lighting and lack of windows. What's more, a perplexing sticker in my bunk labelled SHORT FISHERMAN PANT had focused all my attention upon it. Portrait of the sleep deprived.


PHRAE AND PREJUDICE

We arrived at our final stop around 6:15am, and were picked up by our new driver (who would be called Utenshu-san from now on, as in the Japanese) to take us to Parn's place. And what a grand place indeed. A wonderful teak building, with a number of outlying houses and some lovely open spaces. Plus, Parn had his own standalone quarters (complete with en suite shower-room, big telly and drumkit - natch) which would become our base of operations. But at that moment, it was sleepy time for us all unti 11am, when we woke to have lunch (a variety of yummy dishes served with a mini-basket of sticky rice each - our staple meal for this portion of our adventure) with various family members, colleagues, friends and staff. We also spent a large part of our time posing for photographs, soaking up the sunshine, and, in my case, freaking out little children - not to tears, but there was something about me that caused them to stare, before running and hiding. It was probably then about time for some proper sight-seeing.

First stop was the old governor's house, which made me feel like the baddie in Commando - I could picture Arnie slaughtering a mini-army on the lovely rear garden lawn. It was also home to a collection of old typewriters and massive Casio caluclatos. Plus, there was an actual jail in the basement, prompting all kinds of convict-related banter - but what does it say about me that I was the last to leave? Next, we visited Pratubjai House, a grand teak building home to a variety of memorabilia, handicrafts and local artefacts. It was also our first encounter with hiked-up prices for farang (the Thai term for foreigners). I can see how raising the prices is in someway justified, asuming you have a greater income living abroad, but it still makes you feel even more like an outsider when you already feel like one naturally. And it'd be a nuisance if you were an actual resident, having to continually prove your status every time you went to a tourist hot-spot. What's more, Ilan managed to get away with looking Thai enough to get the discount. Still, at least we all got keyrings thrown in with the entry fee. And finally, we took a trip to Phae Muang Phi, a rocky valley created by forest flooding. The unusal rock formations would make it a perfect shooting location for a Star Trek episode (Kirk years, obviously) or a prehistoric epic, and we had much fun clambouring about the sand and stone. Plus, we saw a bunch of lizards and a rock that looked like a man's thingy!



We returned via Parn's aunt's cafe for a few drinks and met his little cousins who accompanied us to a festival taking place at a nearby temple that evening. We were almost the only farangs there, prompting the monks to give us a cheery "Hello". Various rituals were taking place, as hundreds gathered to pray, light candles, receive blessings, ring bells and such. But there were also all kinds of stalls, games, rides and performaces taking place. We snacked on candy floss and played a darts game very badly (clearly my previous success in Xi'an was a fluke). However, I was more concerned with the nasty bit of chewing gum stuck to my shoe, picking up all manner of dirt, sand and grit from the festival ground. Lovely. Regardless, we returned to Parn's shack for drinking games (half-remembered from Hokkaido, but none that really worked as well as they ought to have done) and general larking about until 3am. As you do on holiday, right?


RESERVOIR DOGS

Today's excursion didn't sound like a great deal of fun (a trip to the reservoir), but turned out to be one of the most enjoyable and relaxing afternoons of the trip. We took a motorboat out into the water, dropped off a couple of fishermen, and then stopped off at a kind of floating shack. On board was a bar, kitchen, music and karaoke system, and a group of people already enjoying snacks and drinks. We took our own little spot to relax and enjoy the views, but then the shack actually started to move and set sail. It was perhaps the least hydrodynamic (or whatever the water equivalent of aerodynamic is) vessel I'd ever been on, but it was a wonderful and surreal experience to drift along the water surface in a thatch-roofed hut, with on-board catering. We relaxed by the water's edge into the sunset, and had a thoroughly good time - even if a gecko shat on me, leaving a trouser stain that still remains.



We returned home via the video store and rented a copy of V for Vendetta on VCD (having tried the previous evening on DVD format, only to find it was a Region One copy - not Thailand's region at all). We all thoroughly enjoyed it, even though the ending was delayed when Baptiste paused the film for a quick loo break, only to return and press the eject button instead of play. Okay, it was dark, but as it was a VCD, that meant we had to start from the beginning of the second disc, and with the remote control missing, we had to let it play until the part we left off, around 15 minutes from the end. The rest of the evening and early morning consisted of scaring Ilan witless. I think Baptiste said an off-hand comment about strangers peering into her windows at night which meant she couldn't get to sleep, so we slept in her room, and she stayed with Parn. But then Parn and Ilan decided to get their revenge by tapping on our window and making spooky noises from outside. At first, we pretended not to notice, but then Baptiste popped up and I stuck my hand against the glass. Their squeals alerted the dogs, so they had to hurry back inside. But just as they were recuperating, I dragged myself into their room Sadako-style and gave Ilan the heebie-jeebies. And what lesson have we learned? Don't try and out-scare Mr. Steele - suffice to say, I would have won the scream competition in The Worst Witch hands-down. Or even up for that matter.

Some of these pictures are courtesy of Parn, and can be seen on his Facebook page, or try out the relevant Flickr pages of Baptiste and yours truly.

Next Time: Chiang Mai - more temples and markets and massage, plus elephants and snakes galore!

Spring 2007 > Thailand > Part I

HAPPY LANDINGS

We arrive at Bangkok's new Suvarnabhumi Airport past midnight, which is all very stylish and swish, although it is apparently already falling apart, with a runway starting to crack up, and ghost stories a-plenty after a construction worker was trapped in a pillar of cement. A 'visa-upon-arrival' counter mocks our situation and while it's a long shot, we wait to see all the bags claimed before making our own lost baggage claim. The staff are extremely helpful and well-spoken, and we give them our details and are advised to get in touch with them once we can confirm the situation in Beijing (thinking about it now, we never called back - I hope they're not still looking for our lugggae). Obviously, the first things Parn wants to know when we meet him are "Where're your bags?", and, more importantly, "Where's Ilan?". Much exposition later, and we're in a taxi to his Bangkok pad, which was the perfect place to put our feet up (or inside the iSqueez massage machine, which sent Baptiste into fits of giggles on Vibrate mode). After a little Thai TV (featuring my old Japanese favourite, Medical Horror Check Show with 'Beat' Takeshi, and the karaoke channel with some bizarre old man chasing ladies in the forest and a Pan-Pan look-a-like), forty winks seemed the sensible option.

The following morning, we managed to get in touch with Ilan, and it turned out she would be able to come to Thailand (with our bags) thanks to a speedy visa application. Problem was it would be after we were due to head to Koh Samui, so we had to get a few supplies to tide us over until we returned. So, thanks to Parn's mum's personal driver (who would aid us throughout our Bangkok adventures), we headed to a nearby mall to do some shopping like all the cool kids do in Thailand. What struck me immediately was just how open every place seemed to be to different popular cultures, with American, British, French, Japanese, Australian and Korean brands, TV shows, bands, chains everywhere, not to mention Thailand's homegrown produce. First port of call was Hairworld, where Baptiste and I thought it was about time we got the snip. Baptiste ended up with a geeky bouffant and I looked like an English footballer, but over the course of the holiday, our respective 'dos settled a little better (Baptiste eventually having a touch of Louis Theroux about his look). I also picked up a couple of smart shirts there before we took the Sky Train to Siam Square for more shopping. Department stores varied from the big and flashy to the small and cheap, and we stocked up on various essential casual and beach wear, with Baptiste opting for a very zen kung-fu get-up. Much of our purchasing took place in MBK, which had vast floor space dedicated to big-name boutiques as well as smaller stalls. It also had quite a large cinema on the top floor, which proved just how much the Thais love movies - plenty of stands and posters advertising big releases from home and abroad (and many in their original language and/or with English subtitles - nice to see English being used again).

It was dark by the time the driver picked us up for a night-time tour around town. We drove through a night market which we would return to later, and through Chinatown, still showing the signs of New Year celebrations and an amazing amount of restaurants specialising in shark fin soup. Then there was the infamous red-light district, with a surprising amount of Japanese signs around - it wasn't actually as seedy as I had expected (or maybe hoped). And on the way home, we passed the Jade Palace and the King's Palace, but they weren't lit-up as we would have liked (i.e. at all). However, the amount of images of the King posted around was staggering - his face was almost omnipresent, from portraits in shops, to vast banners down the sides of skyscrapers. It represented just how respected he is and how loyal his subjects are.


AMARI SAMUKUNAI

Monday morning, and an early wake-up call as we had another flight to catch - this time, heading south towards a short break on the island of Koh Samui. But first, a change of clothes were in order, as this, being a Monday, was the day people were encouraged to wear yellow polo shirts with the King's emblem on (and if you're in a government job, you pretty much wear it every weekday). Mine was a little small and faded, but did the job nonetheless. We met Parn's mother at the airport and boarded the plane after a quick pad thai. The in-flight magazine proved to be a source of great entertainment thanks to it's cover article about how to take pictures of your girlfriend on holiday, which Baptiste committed to memory in a very short space of time.


Parn's father and the local police met us on arrival (to guide us, not arrest us), and we zipped past luscious scenery to make it to the ferry on time (which they actually delayed for us anyway). The boat itself was an old Japanese vessel based on the signage, and we were rewarded with stunning views and a beautiful sunset as it set sail. We arrived on the island an hour or so later, and were swiftly taken to a nearby beach resort for a lavish seafood supper on the beach. Endless amounts of spicy soup and platters of various crustaceans were brought out to us and we struggled to keep up (my piss-poor shell removal not helping matters much). The local law enforcer then drove us to the Banana Fan Sea Resort on the other side of the island where we would be staying. It's night-time by now, so the beach is empty, but the nearby tourist bars and clubs are packed. Our room is actually where the manager stays on his visits, so we have all the luxuries we could desire.

Once unpacked, we all head into town for ice-cream, then myself, Parn and Baptiste are led around town by one of the local cops. Well, he was more like your Western-style Sheriff, who would patrol the town, chat with his contacts and if anyone had a complaint, would get it sorted sharpish. And he kept his gun in a bumbag. While we have a few other essentials to buy, he advises us it's better and cheaper to go to Tesco tomorrow morning. Instead, we decided to have a look around the clubs, but they were surrounded with terrifying caricatures of womanhood, some of whom were certainly not 100% female. I don't really know what my ideal woman is, but I know now what my ideal woman isn't - these lank-haired, big-lipped, jewel-encrusted, leather-wrapped, long-nailed she-beast harpees, beckoning us to come join their party...shudder. We ended up in a reggae bar on the other side of town for a couple of beers, but there was a daft MC nattering over the music and a lot of middle-aged men getting pissed and dancing the kind of slow-motion bop dads do to reggae music. We left after about an hour - according to our cop the next day, there had been a stabbing that night at that bar, between a boyfriend and his girlfriend (at least they weren't strangers). The rest of the clubs in town were a bit too hectic for our tastes, so we retreated to a more laidback bar for drinks and snacks. And even though we were still technically full from all the fruits de mers we had consumed earlier, that didn't stop an impromptu Burger King before bed around 3am.

Today was our first full holiday day - and we started off in perhaps the most beautifully located Tesco in the world, with the bright hot sun basking down on a lush palm tree forest. With some more cheap beach-wear bought and bagged, we were off to another part of the island for a proposed scuba diving session. However, when we arrived, I was a little anxious about the lack of an instructor or any signs of scuba gear whatsoever. I was a little disappointed but, at the same time, incredibly relieved to discover it would be a snorkelling session instead, so we took a little boat out towards the bay of a small island, home to all kinds of tropical fish. To get them excited, we tossed them instant noodles that sent them into a feeding frenzy. We then got the chance to take a dip with them, but the coral towards the bay meant the water got very shallow indeed. I also decided to see for how long I could stalk an individual fish before it got lost in a shoal. After an hour or so, we headed back to shore for drinks and I realised just how horribly sunburnt I had become, having applied suncream but only after I'd gone swimming, so there had been much skin-sizzling during my snorkelling. I was pretty red across my back and shoulders, and was already beginning to flake up. Baptiste and Parn, on the other hand, had gotten off with only a few minor scrapes and cuts. Still, the sun was starting to set, so we decided to head onto Chaweng (sounds a bit like "Schwing!") beach by our hotel for jet-ski fun.

Jet-skiing was a wonderful experience. We had about half an hour to zip across the waves as much as we liked, and there was a great feeling of freedom as we bounced off crests and weaved through each other's splash-trails (or whatever the gnarly terminology is). It was far more exhilirating an experience than playing Waverace had suggested. However, I took a wave at a bid of a bad angle and fell off backwards, my last word before hitting the water a simple "Woah". Afterwards, we had a variety of varyingly disappointing barfood from 'Bob's Bar', which took ages to arrive as well. We then took advantage of the 'no longer as hot as is it was earlier' weather for paddling, swimming, sand-slinging and sand-sumo, with Parn beating Baptiste triumphantly. We returned to the hotel to wash and change before having some Thai green curry at a nearby restaurant and a visit to My Friendly Thai massage. I opted for the aloe vera treatment to soothe my sunburn, but it was a general body MOT, involving popping my toes, smearing lotion across my sweaty, hairy pores and getting rubbed quite close to my private triangle. We were all super-relaxed until Parn's mobile (which wasn't fixed to his ear in a rare moment of non-natter) killed the mood with an unexpected ringtone.

Our time in Koh Samui had been short but it was the first time my trip had felt like a genuine relaxing break from my time studying at university in Kyoto. We left the next morning after breakfast to return to Bangkok, to be reunited with Ilan. And our bags!

See pictures of Koh Samui here and here.

Coming soon - return to Bangkok and the journey to Phrae!

Spring 2007 > China > Part IV

BACK TO BEIJING

My slow travelogue crawl through my past adventures reaches it's final destination in China as our train pulled into Beijing West Railway Station a couple of hours earlier than planned. We were welcomed by a voice-over onboard in English, sounding a little like Donald Sutherland, extolling the virtues of the station building with its 'waiting lounges' and 'shop'. To kill time, walking around was the only way to keep us warm on a chilly morning, despite having all our baggage on tow. We tried calling Rob with our phone card from Shanghai, but now it had stopped working all together, so we ended up in a little phone shop that worked out cheaper and easier than a payphone anyway.

Fifteen minutes later, Rob arrived, and we taxi'd it to his rather grand apartment near his university. There we met an assorted bunch of his friends and flat-mates studying in Beijing with him, who were all incredibly nice and friendly - although Lucy apparently had a dark side, having tripped up her mum, who was on a visit, the night before. We had a nice conversation over breakfast, but it was not long before we popped around another friend's flat as it was the birthday of fellow student Barney. And the plan was: GO-KARTS! Unfortunately, getting there was another problem, as the taxi convoy we took were a little clueless about where it was. We had to get out, walk around, call the karting centre number and get a new batch of taxis before we finally headed in the right direction.


It had been a long time since I'd been karting, but it was easy getting back into the swing of things thanks to my recent Mario Kart GP Arcade sessions. My first race was with just myself and a couple of Chinese guys not part of our group, who were so bad they had to quit, leaving me to just scoot round the track on my own time-trial style. The next contest was a full grid, and I did pretty well, crashing just the once, but I was delayed when none of the staff came to help me out, so I had to wriggle my way out myself. Nevertheless, I still leapt three places, so I was happy with my performance. While others continued to kart ahead, Baptiste, Rob, Sabrina and I opted for a game of tag-team pool which must have featured a record-breaking number of jammy pots and flukey shots. This was all followed by a meal at a Japanese restaurant, giving us the opportunity to try out our language skills, but they were completely lost on the evidently Chinese staff. At least we could make some recommendations on what to order (but the potato salad seemed to garner the most praise). However, we couldn't stay long as we had arranged to meet Ilan for dinner.

We made it to Tiannamen Square a little later than planned, but couldn't find her at all. Turned out she was wearing a wig both to try out a new style and to fool us completely. She had been shopping with her friend Wan all day, and the two of them were ready to eat, so we took the subway (which included a very angry argument between two groups of strangers) to a place they recommended. It turned out to be all the way to the station we had just come from with Rob's friends! Never mind - it was a big restaurant with lots of spicy food and strange desserts ('fruit ice' turned out to literally be 'fruit' and 'ice'). We called it a night after making arrangements for heading to the airport, and as we left, we walked past some amazing late-night construction work going on for The Tube, a new building supposed to be ready for the Olympics, but looking increasingly unlikely to be. However, in it's current state, it looked like the crashed spaceship from Alien, and mighty impressive indeed. With the last train already departed, it was yet another taxi back to Rob's apartment, and as the previous partygoers returned one by one, we were soon ready for bed. Well, in this case, it was inside Dracula's sleeping bag on their massive comfortable pink sofa, which was a damn sight better than the hellish train ride from Xi'an.


ALL APOLOGIES

The next day was a chance to visit the last of our Beijing big-hitter tourist attractions - the Summer Palace. Rob joined Baptiste and myself for the day out, and were stunned at just how vast the grounds were. Rob had been before, but hadn't seen any of the buildings we went to at first, having arrived at a different entrance to the one he'd been through previously. We made our way up the hill and along winding steps and rocky paths to reach the main area of the palace, looking across the expanse of Kunming Lake. It wasn't pedalo season, but that probably gave us a better view.


However, pretty much every sign to every beautiful building would helpfully remind us that it was ransacked, destroyed and/or burned down by the Anglo-French Allied Forces during the Second Opium War in 1860. We figured that our party consisting of two Englishmen and a Frenchman would help redress the balance as we were paying to get in this time. Other interesting sights were the Buddhist Incense Tower, the Imperial phone line, the Marble Boat (not as impressive when the water around it had dried up) and a guy doing calligraphy on the ground with a big water brush. We were a little pushed for time, but it was a nice place to spend the afternoon. Once we'd returned to Derby's, we pretty much had to grab our stuff and go to meet Ilan to catch the airport shuttle bus.

Once we were on board the coach, we sat at the back with our massive sacks eating weird sweets (corn on the cob flavour, anyone?) and explaining the concept of "not for toffee/the world/all the tea in China". We arrived at the aiport, checked in our luggage, and headed to the passport check...only for everything to go tits-up. Ilan was refused entry. Apparently, the travel agency in Japan had said that she didn't need a visa if the stay in Thailand was less than fifteen days, but the Chinese officials weren't having any of it. For one and a half hours, Baptiste and I were stuck behind the checking gates hoping it could be sorted, maybe getting a different flight or if it was possible to get a temporary visa - but to no avail. And it got even worse. Because all our luggage had been checked in Ilan's name, when her flight ticket was cancelled, all our luggage (not just her suitcase) was removed from the flight, with no time to have them re-checked. So not only was Ilan now stuck in Beijing, so were our backpacks! Marvellous...With our flight about to leave, we had rush to the gate, leaving Ilan behind, but a promise that we'd get in touch with her and Wan, who she'd stay with until the matter was resolved, once we were in Thailand. We boarded in time, but secretly hoped that there'd be some problem with the flight so we could stick around and help Ilan. Although there was a little delay, we were sadly soon in the air. Bye-bye China...

So my final thoughts on China? Well, I think we experienced the full gamut of emotions during our time there, so overall feelings are decidedly mixed. There were nice people and nasty people, nice places and nasty places; some days were wonderful, others we'd rather forget. I guess a lot of our experiences can be drawn from the fact that China is not readily geared towards foreign tourism. Some people would happily stop for a chat or give us a passing smile and "Hello!", while others would just stop in their tracks and stare at us as if we were hideously deformed. There is little understanding or use of English, but then again, when you have a billion potential Chinese customers, who cares if a couple of poxy Europeans don't come and bother your business? And even when they do, it'd be nice if their sales techniques could be improved, as I'm sure they'd see the benefits.

The current world image of China is that of the new super-power, undergoing the kind of industrial change other parts in the world took centuries to accomplish in a matter of months. And while this is true, it's very clear that China is struggling to catch up with itself at the same time as tackling the problems lying underneath. When the Olympics arrive in Beijing next year, a lot of people coming from across the globe to visit are going to be very surprised to see such poor infrastructure, pollution and anti-social behaviour. I'd still consider returning to China, but I doubt it'll be in search of the hustle-bustle of another city; a countryside trek would be a far more tantalising prospect indeed. But why not check out my entire collection of China snaps on Flickr?

Well, that's it for China. Sorry it's taking so long, but perhaps I'll have more time to finish this journey write-up during Golden Week. And then I can finally write about actual stuff happening to me right now this very minute!

Next time: Thailand! Sun, sea, sand, spicy food and snorkelling!

Spring 2007 > China > Part III

MAOCHANDISE

Our flight to Xi'an was an early one but went smoothly. Well, one woman appeared to panic uncontrollably a few seats away and/or vomited over herself - I'm not exactly sure, but it involved several cabin crew, a change of seats and a number of tissues. Also, the in-flight snacks included squid slices, which filled the plane with an unbelievable stench. However, we were swift in disembarking and boarding the shuttle bus into town, that drove bumpily through what I felt was the real image of China I had in mind - dusty streets, crumbly towns and endless stretches of space into nowhere.

Our accommodation, the Bell Tower Inernational Youth Hostel, was superbly located, being it next to Xi'an's main post office, overlooking the Bell Tower itself, which was located conveniently at the city's main roundabout, allowing for easy navigation in the direction of all four main compass points. The hostel itself was a wonderful place to stay, with friendly staff, helpful tour arrangements, good social areas, a bar serving great food and drink and comfortable rooms (again, we opted for a twin private room with marginal price difference, which was actually part of a hotel the hostel was seemingly attached to - not 100% certain of the arrangement). Plus, free hour of internet and a free beer every night! The next step was to secure our journey back to Beijing, so we headed to the train ticket booth where recognising that there was a queue in place wasn't on anyone else's agenda but ours. Eventually, we did manage to get a place on board, but unfortunatle we would have to endure a hard seater overnight. Little did we know just how traumatic it would be.

As it was Baptiste's birthday, I bought him lunch at the Hong Kong Restaurant, a vast and virtually empty mega-diner, which also served a peculiar purple drink that tasted exactly like ice-cream wafers. As they were close by, we opted to visit the Bell and Drum Towers central to the local area. As you can imagine, both had a lot of bells and drums respectively, and we were lucky enough to watch a group of musicians rehearse inside. We got to see a more polished display of musical ability at the Drum Tower, with a bunch of young drum-diddlers in bright costume banging away in unison. From both towers, I had a good vantage point of the city's taxis, all a wonderful green colour (the buses were similarly eye-catching, in various hues). It was then just a trip across from the tower to Huifang, the Muslim quarters of Xi'an, with a wonderful tent-roofed market stocked with all kinds of dried fruits, nuts and souvenirs. Even more tantalising was the packed main street with wonderful eateries on either side, with the staff grilling yummy kebabs and cooking spicy bread.

We turned into a covered alleyway that had a such a Middle Eastern atmosphere it made it hard to believe we were still in China. The little shops were selling all kinds of Maochandise, a spin-off of Che-Shirts; basically souvenirs with Chairman Mao's face adorning them, from little alarm clocks with his hand's waving as it ticked to Mao-sacks and Mao-caps. As Xi'an was the start of the original Silk Road, the city is home to a wonderful mix of Chinese and Islamic culture, best represented at the Great Mosque, a fully-operational and beautifully designed prayer complex. The mix of Chinese architecture and Arabic influences was spellbinding, and so SOAS. It was an incredibly peaceful place, home to many birds gently singing masking the sound of traffic from afar. Plus, there was a friendly man at the main gate who knew a surprising amount of English and French expressions.

On our way back to the hostel, the park area between the two towers had filled up with amateur telescopes observing the moon (no doubt because the Chinese New Year based around the lunar calendar), and a very strange one wheel velocipede much like Mr. Garrison's 'IT' from South Park, just without the filthy control mechanism. As it was Baptiste's birthday, the hostel cooked him up a free pizza and we cashed in our free beer tickets. But the beer in question, Tsingtao's very drinkable Hans Beer (with a wolf on the bottle) cost a measly 5 RMB (about 35p) for 500ml, so it didn't break the bank to get drunk in a celebratory fashion. Coincidentally, it turned out to be another hostel guest's birthday that day, a Scotsman by the name of Hamish! So we sat down together, drinking beers, eating pizza and watching Raiders of the Lost Ark. It was exactly the kind of atmosphere you want from a hostel, but rarely get, as we chatted with Adrian and Dominik from Germany, Sylvine from Holland, and a guy who lived in Weston-Super-Mare. We drank into the next day as fireworks went off from the square outside, before calling it a night to allow sufficient sleep in preparation for our tour the next day.


POUR UN PETIT TOUR

As our tour group had swelled from four to eight, we got it cheaper than what we'd originally paid - good news for the student traveller. Our fellow companions were five Swedish guys (who mostly spoke little English and sported a 'couldn't care' attitude and a general lack of interest, making us wonder why they even came in the first place) and Steven from the UK. Our guide was Emily, a young local girl with passable, if far from exceptional, English, who talked almost non-stop throughout the whole day. Mr. Liang was our driver, and we squeezed into his little minibus, the interior of which was decorated with magazine cuttings of local sights, cars and supermodels. As we exited the city gates, it was clear only Baptiste and myself were offering any sign of interest in Emily's historical spiel, but it was not long before we were at out first destination - surprise, surprise, another Friendness Store.

This time silk was on the agenda, what with Xi'an being start of the Silk Road and all. Sure enough, the display cases, specimens and production techniques, all impressive and interesting, soon gave way to talk of washing instructions, choice of styles and special New Year offers. For some reason, I was seen as the prime target (I guess because I tried to be nice and charming while the others scarpered), but as much as I would like to feel nourished like an Emperor with a sleey silk duvet set, pricing, backpack space and common sense dictated that it was not at the top of my 'must-have' list then and there. Back on the bus then to Banpo Village, the remains of a 6000 year old settlement. It was only the very basic outlines of building foundations, but there were impressive pre-JCB ditches and fascinating information on the burial rituals. However, judgng buy the desire to move on, I was clearly the only history student there.

Back on the bus to a factory that manufactured imitation terracotta warriors of all sizes, but imperfect shapes - it seemed like they hadn't gotten arm lengths or hand quite right. Again, no purchases, but I couldn't really understand why we were there in the first place - on the previous tour, we were all staying at hotels, with the others with a family at home; here they were selling to backpackers with tight budgets, luggage restrictions and time schedules. As we departed, Emily asked us if we wanted to eat lunch. I thought that was a rather strange question as we obviously needed to eat some time, but then the grumpy Swedes emitted a resounding "No!", so we were a little hesitant to drag out their day any further. But when it came to crunch time, they said they'd be okay to wait, so we stopped off anyway, at another silk store with an adjacent restaurant and an imitation Egyptian pyramid next door.

Lunch was much the same as the previous tour, except with regional dishes involving spicy noodles and an egg/tomato mix. The driver was a little miffed that it was just going to be me, Baptiste, Steven and one of the Swedes (who actually turned out to be from Norway originally, didn't really know the others and agreed they were being rather arsey - he also was into retro gaming). Part of the deal was that we go on another silk tour, and Emily advised us to pretend that it was all knew to us, so while a different tour guide took us through all the procedures, we feigned surprise throughout. Our host asked us questions, and we played dumb about the answers, but I was a little unsettled the way she kept on referring to us as "my friend". When it came to the inevitable purchase round, she was more desperate for a sale and looked genuinely crestfallen when we wrenched ourselves free.

Finally, it was time for the main event, the Terracotta Army of Qin Shi Haungdi. I had studied the First Qin Emperor in my Introduction to the History of East Asia course at SOAS, writing an essay and answering an examination question about him. You may know him from The First Emperor docu-drama Channel 4 showed a little while ago, or, more likely, from Zhang Yimou's Hero. So I had been looking forward to seeing the warriors for myself. We drove along some incredibly rough roads through rubble-riddent villages to get there, but once we arrived, I was surprised at the size of the surrounding complex. It was a little like a theme-park, with stalls, fountains, a horse-drawn carriage for the punters, and a lot of bad English (one sign for an upcoming redevelopment used the word 'smelody', but I can't recall what it was referring to). After ticket purchase and an X-ray scan, we were allowed entry to Pit #1, a vast aircraft hangar-esque building covering the main site, filled with rows of statues. Unfortunately, it becomes clear that my guide book was perhaps a little out of date. I had deliberately left my camera behind as it stated photography was prohibited at the site, but it turned out photography was okay, which explains why there are no photos of the statues on my Flickr account. Bum. The only camera restrictions were no flash or tripods, but the crowds were flaunting such rules with little care. In fact, working as a security guard there must be a real tough gig - one guy had to deal with someone dropping a bottle of water from above, and then a kid running out through the barrier towards the dig site. Though it made me think how some 2200 years later, we have security guards guarding clay guards made instead of real guards guarding the Emperor's tomb.

With the first pit done, we went to the Circle Vision building for a 360 degree short film about the history of the Terracotta Army, the self-proclaimed Eight Wonder of the World (I thought that was King Kong?). The film was made in the late 80's but the quality of the film had clearly been worn by repeated screenings. However, it was good fun, with lots of staged battles, rituals and construction scenes. Next were the bronze horse and carriage statues, then Pit #2, which was far more interesting than the massive first pit. The lighting was darker (if that makes sense), and many of the figures were broken or had fallen to pieces, creating an eerie battlefield aftermath vibe, with hands sans weapons looking as if they were stretching out to grasp for help, and decapitated hands and dismembered limbs lying around. There was a small platform jutting out over the pit which also gave a great feeling of power and command when you stood on it...absolute POWER! Pit #3 was smaller but very well-preserved, but it's undeniable there are far more treasures to be uncovered in the area - just as long as no tourists are about. As expected, I was the last one to leave each area, but I would have liked to have stayed longer.

Our tour came to an end and we got back to the hostel absolutely knackered. As we zoned out in front of our hotel telly, we caught a very disturbing cartoon on CCTV's Kids channel - it depicted two (possibly orphaned) children during the Pacific War evading capture and outsmarting Japanese troops, featuring two bumbling idiots and an evil fat general with a Hitler 'tash. Considering how touchy Sino-Japanese relations are at the moment, and how the Chinese lay much of the blame on the Japanese, I couldn't believe that such a progamme was on. Not only was the animation terrible, but this was being screened to children at prime-time - what kind of lesson does that teach the kiddywinks? The soldiers even had the modern Japanese flag everywhere, not the Imperial Japanese one. It was as if there were a French cartoon made today depicting Nazi soldiers with German flags instead of swastikas - and even then, it's not like there are the problems involving European relations and dealing with the past as there are here in East Asia. Unbelievable.


After we'd recovered, we went back to the Muslim district for some of the food we'd spied the previous day. Although we went somewhere that advertised an English menu, it didn't synch up with the stuff cooking outside, so Baptiste resorted to pointing at what we wanted. While we weren't brought quite as much as we were expecting, it was cheap and delicious. The skewers were hot, the bread was spicy and the beer was spot-on. We then headed back to the hostel for more beers and chit-chat with the guests from the previous night, including a couple of games of Shithead and a Darts game of Cricket (which I was surprisingly good at, as it didn't require aiming for the triple 20 every time). I then stayed up chatting to Hamish about his proposed visit to Turkmenistan and how now that the president had died in December, it was not going to be as mad a place as it used to be - stories of National Melon Day, the banning of lip-synching, gold statues that rotate in alignment with the Sun...utterly insane.


THE WALLS ARE CLOSING IN

Our final day in Xi'an was spent walking along the top of the city wall. After a jumbo breakfast special care of the hostel (2 slices of toast, butter, jam, 2 sausages, 2 rashers of bacon, tomato, mushrooms, baked beans - all spanning 2 plates) while watching the end of The Matrix Revolutions, we were ready to set off for the South gate. A little narked at the 40 yuan entry fee, we coughed up nonetheless, as it was a beautiful sunshiney day, perfect for a walk. At the start of the trail, there were a number of gaudy New Year displays, including some bizarre models of insects and then dalmatians, so I envisaged a Starship Troopers-esque conflict between the two sets of creatures up the side of the wall. The further we walked, the displays and fun-fair stalls disappeared, and we were left with stretches of wide paths going on for kilometres.


It was a lovely afternoon, and with it being holiday season many people were gathered in the parks at the foot of the wall, doing their own thing, be it kite-flying, letting off firecrackers, playing mahjong or outdoor snooker, or just having a sit-down. It took us about 3 hours to go all the way around to the North gate, going past Xi'an station, which was packed to the rafters, as well as yet another billboard of our favourite bald man, a comedian called something like Bi Lao, who advertises for China Mobile and some yoghurt food, and was a familar face wherever we travelled. His omnipresence even extended to a Madame Tussaud's waxwork in Nanjing Road in Shanghai. And here he was again in Xi'an with his patented cheeky grin and thumbs-up. We got back to the hostel to pick up our bags, say our goodbyes, leave a message on the wall (as was encouraged) and get a load of spaghetti bolognaise before our departure.

Xi'an station was far more hectic than Beijing as it was now well into the holiday season, and people would be returning back to the big cities. We found a couple of seats in the waiting room, but there was clearly a lot of frustrated people around, with one heated argument between a couple of queuers turning many heads. Eventually, it was time to board, and we found our Hard Seater seats occupied by a couple, but there were equivalent seats in the same space which we took instead. While the Hard Seater seat was alright, the problem was the other people. The train had come in from Lasa in Tibet, so everyone had either gotten to or already knew each other. They were all eating rather foul smelling hot noodles, pickled onions and hard boiled eggs, or nibbling on seeds and peanuts, the remnants of which would be spat on the floor (or on me), only to be cleaned by a member of staff applying a wet mop to the carpet. They were also pretty loud, and sang along to songs on their radio until about 2am. I tried to get to sleep by putting on my cap, doing my coat up over my face, but with leg-room nonexistent and reclining not an option, it proved tricky. And once I gotten some shut-eye, I was woken up when the smelly Tibetan woman who had sat next to me at various points complained to a train official that I was in her seat, not that it had bothered her before. Turns out another person had the same seat number on their (clearly forged) ticket as me, and after a wait to see if I'd be ejected off the train, the official came back to settle the dispute. Not sure what he said in Chinese, but I guess it was along the lines of, "This foreigner won't understand and I don't care enough to try and tell him - so forget it". At least then I could get an hour or two of sleep...

Coming Next: Back to Beijing! Derby! Go-Karts! Visa Problems! Huzzah!