Warning: The following post and pictures are disturbing and illustrate the horror of war. Don’t view if you have a weak stomach!

I think we are all familiar with Vietnam War from images of helicopters landing in lush forests and popular films such as “Good Morning Vietnam”. However, I have to admit that I was a bit ignorant of the atrocities and shear violation of human rights that occurred during the war. The war remnants museum in Saigon did a great job of driving the point home that war is horrible and most of us cannot begin to imagine to shear suffering and pain people undergo when they are caught up in the middle of such a battle. On entering the museum, several photographs from the war illustrate this well.

One picture that is stained in my mind is of a group of women and children standing huddled together as if trying to shield themselves from danger. Reading the caption below gives context to the scene. The photographer writes:

“I saw this group of people huddled together, mothers protecting their children. Three GI’s stood with their guns pointed at them. I yelled to the soldiers to stop and I took several pictures (one displayed here). I turned and walked away and heard the machine guns open up. I did not look back.”

I realized that the picture documented the last moments of life for this group. A moment filled with fear, dread and other emotions I cannot possibly imagine and for the most part, don’t want to. Other pictures showed brothers hugging one another before being gunned down and yet another showed children, one of them a naked girl, running from a cloud of smoke screaming in agony from being badly burnt by napalm.

I remember the slight feeling of excitement I felt right before the “Shock and Awe campaign”. Large naval vessels and aircraft carriers stationed in the Gulf waiting for the order to release their ordinance. A piece of me didn’t want Saddam to surrender, a piece of me wanted to see the missiles shoot off into the night. How removed are we from the realities of war? I feel sick when I realize my ignorance. I can’t help but think that in a way, that juvenile and immature attitude is a major reason such atrocities occur.

The images from the war museum will echo in my memory for many weeks to come and in a way, I hope they stain my mind with the reality of war.

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That evening, we took the overnight bus to Surat Thani. We met two very ordinary American girls and an interesting English guy by the name of Nick. Like nearly all of the English people we would meet in the next couple days, Nick was on his gap year between high school and university. Most of the bus ride was spent trying to figure out the most comfortable position to place your body instead of sleeping. Nick was heading to the same island as us and for the same reason: The Full Moon party.

One of the most beautiful views of the full moon is said to be from a beach located on Ko Phangan called Haad Rin. The story behind the origins of the full moon party are as numerous and come in as many flavors as the revelers that attend it today. One rumor tells of a group of young travellers that would return every year to gaze at the full moon. Each year they would return with a greater following of full moon gazers. Full moon watching turned into bon fires and bon fires to a party. Today, over 20,000 sun soaked travelers and tourist make their way to Haad Rin every month to participate in an all night party complete with music, fire shows an excessive fun.

Frank, Nick and I finally arrived at Ko Panang around mid-day after about 16 hours of traveling. Rest, of course, would have been the wise choice here but we decided to explore the island and have a swim in the pristine Thai waters. Night crept up on us and soon we found ourselves making our way in a taxi to the full moon party.

The site of 20,000 people partying on a beach was a truly sensory experience. Some buying drinks, others dancing on tables and on the sand and still others screaming at their friends in a feeble attempt to communicate over the heart throbbing music. The full moon party is definitely not for everyone, but for it was for Frank and I. We partied all night until the full moon made way for the sun. I danced with a lady boy (to my great dismay) and Frank stepped on a broken bottle. An old school friend accosted Nick. I bought a round of drinks. Frank had one or two and I had more. Frank danced and so did I. Nick disappeared and we didn’t see him for the rest of the night. Frank and I had breakfast; met some Latin girls and we went home. Alone.

Ko Phangan is truly a beautiful island and nothing was quite as exhilarating as exploring the island on a pair of scooters. We made a giant loop around the island stopping at some beaches and having a massage on a thatch roof hut. Although I danced with a lady boy, Frank has the experience of being massaged by one.

From Ko Phangan, we are heading to Phucket. Will update soon.

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Journey

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On my wait, I met two German couples travelling north. One of the guys spoke fluent Thai and I was reminded of the enormous language barrier I faced here in Thailand. Not that it had been a problem thus far, but I imagined that as I travelled to the more rural villages, it would be. The rural iconic Thai villages; the ones you see on television. They flew by my train window. Planks of rotting wood and rusted galvanize stuck together in what resembled a house. Tree logs lifted the structure out from the brown river below. Not just one house but a whole neighbourhood was built along the banks of the Nam Mae Chao Phraya river.

Ayutthaya main temples are located on an island due to the joining of three rivers: the Mae Nam Lopburi, Chao Phraya and Pa Sak. The main temples are stunning; some seem to rise to the same height as a ten-story building. Nicola was right though, after about an hour or so, the red brick temples seem to melt into the same structure just cut and pasted in different locations. The trek to these locations was made possible by a bike rental. Weaving in and out of Thai traffic on an un-motorized bicycle during rush hour is tantamount to an extreme sport; one that I much enjoyed actually.

In retrospect, I believe that the temples did need some context to be fully appreciated. Perhaps a trip to one of the museums on the island would have done the trick. It seems that the theme so far in Thailand has been that the main attractions are not always that attracting to me. For me the highlight of the day was the train back to Bangkok. As mundane as that might be, I must reiterate that the Thai people are great and they also make great subjects for photography. I had a ton of fun with my camera and Thai kids ducking in and out of train windows as we were delayed yet again thanks to the efforts of ‘Red Short’ protesters. (No worries mom, I’m safe).

Take a look at the pictures and leave your thoughts.

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I spent the morning looking for a water taxi to take me to Ko Ratanakosin on the eastern bank of the Mae Nam Chao Phraya (the river running through Bangkok). Ko Ratanakosin is to Buddhism what the Vatican City is the Catholicism. Therefore, the area houses some of the holiest temples and The Grand Palaces dedicated to Buda and the royal family respectively.

After walking around the Grand Palace for over an hour with a new friend, I hoped on a tuk-tuk to see more temples and statues. The sites mainly consisted of golden Buda statues in various positions: sitting, lying or standing. Most the statues held some significance such as being lucky, fortunate and one even giving you a blessed marriage.

The golden temple or Wat Saket is a temple built on what looks like a mountain. Climbing the few hundred stairs gives you a scenic view around Bangkok and the breeze from on top gives much needed respite from the heat. My tuk tuk driver, who was suppose to wait on me at each temple, left me here without saying a word. The deal we arranged was for him to take me to four temples for the price of 40BHT (about $1.25USD). To good to be true? Yes. What he didn’t tell me was that one of the stops would be a silk factory. The tuk tuk drivers have an arrangement with merchant shops to bring tourists around while touring the city. If they buy an item, the tuk tuk driver gets a coupon for gas. If not, the driver is left in a debacle. I bought nothing at the silk factory, therefore the tuk tuk driver decided to cut his losses and move onto the next unsuspecting tourist. None the less, Ko Shan Road, where I’m staying, was only a 10-minute walk through the red shirt protesters, most of which were sleeping away the hot mid-day sun as I passed. The protests are fizzling away into nothing more than a few thousand people now.

However, I digress. On to the Thai people.

Ko Sahn Road is a backpacker’s mecca with all the accoutrements: food, beer, music and movies can be had for less than most would think. The food is made in the back alleys off the main road and shipped off to be sold on the street usually on make shift bicycles. Brothers, sisters, aunts and uncles slave away to provide backpackers with the freshest fruits, foods and sweets for practically nothing. The Thai people are hard working, yet through it all, they manage to be friendly and genuinely happy to help. On several occasions, curious Thais stopped me on the road wanting to know where I was from and where I was going and if I needed help finding anything. At first, I was reluctant because I expected a price to be associated with such advice. However, I was pleasantly surprised when after offering directions and chatting for a while, the Thai would simply walk away smiling, completely satisfied that he had helped someone and wanting nothing more.

This is just the first day of course and whatever I write here can be considered rambling. But so far, the coolest thing about Bangkok is its people.

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I flew into New York yesterday (Sunday March 21st) so I could drop off my passport at the Thai embassy and obtain my Thai visa by Tuesday 23rd for my departure on Wednesday 24rd. This was already cutting it close but after talking with a reassuring Thai lady who worked at the embassy, I felt much more at ease. She assured me I would get my visa on Tuesday afternoon.

Therefore, I dropped my passport of today, Monday morning and I sat down in a Barnes and Noble to write my first post. The flight to Bangkok from New York is a long one and because of the time difference (almost a full day), you have to be careful with your dates and times. I learnt this the hard way today. I realized, with much horror, that my flight to Bangkok actually leaves on Tuesday morning (it arrives in Bangkok on Wednesday!). As the truth sunk in after staring at my itinerary for a minute, I immediately closed the computer and waked briskly back to the Thai embassy where I had dropped off my passport just minutes ago. The two options that ran through my head were either I would have to change the flight (but who knows when the next flight to Thailand would leave?) or I had to use all my persuasion skills to get the small Thai man to get my visa early – that is: today. The conversation was easy and mainly consisted of me telling him I had messed up and I needed to get my visa today or else I would be royally screwed. He accepted this poor excuse and with little hesitation scribbled “4pm” on my visa application. Saved!

Seems that we are starting this trip of on the right foot: adventure. I still have to pray that my visa application is accepted. Here’s my tentative itinerary:

• 3/24: Arrive in Bangkok
• 3/26: Day trip to Ayuthaya
• 3/27: Night Train to Sarut Thani
• 3/28: boat to Ko Tao
• 3/31: Island Hop
• 4/2: Back to Mainland and Head South
• 4/3: Arrive in Kuala Lumpur
• 4/5: Arrive in Singapore
• 4/7: Arrive in Ho Chi Minh City
• 4/9: Night Train to Nha Trang
• 4/10: Arrive in Nha Trang
• 4/12: Night Train to Hoi An
• 4/13: Arrive in Hoi An
• 4/14: Evening Train/Bus to Hue
• 4/16: Night Train to Hanoi
• 4/18: Day trip to Halong Bay
• 4/20: Day trip to Sapa
• 4/21: Flight to Bangkok
• 4/22: Fly to Dubai

What do you think? Too much or too little?

Where am I?

 

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I can never forget first seeing the old estate house in Santa Cruz: Rundown, dilapidated and overrun with every insect known to man. To me, the house looked as though it was being swallowed back up by the land it was built on. However, dad saw something completely different. Many mornings he would circle the estate viewing the house from as many angles as possible while drawing on his sketchpad. Dad saw the house for what it could be. He dreamed of having ionic columns placed alongside each wall. He dreamed of a fountain placed in front of the house overflowing into a coy pond. And he dreamed of a pool over looking the Santa Cruz village. He dreamed. I recently walked around the estate house for the first time in months and for the first time I was amazed at what I saw. I saw Ionic columns placed on every wall holding up the large estate house. I saw a beautiful fountain placed in front of the house with coy swimming in the pond below. And I saw a tranquil swimming pool surrounded by lush foliage. But when the wind would sweep in at just the right speed and it would brush the leaves at just the right angle, the foliage would part to open up a spectacular view to the village below. It was perhaps at that point, I realized that dad didn’t just dream, but he made those dreams into a reality. Dad rested little until the vision he had in his head was realized: be it a garden, a pool, a fountain or a house. I admired him for that.

One of my fondest memories of dad was in Italy. I need not mention how dad loved Italy. The country of architecture, opera, wine and “La Vita Bella”: The Good Life. Therefore, to see dad in Italy was a real treat. He knew the history of every monument, the date of every major event and the location of every garden. The extent of his passion became apparent when he was correcting and adding on to what the tour guide was saying in Pompeii. In fact, later that afternoon, we branched off so that he could give me a proper tour of the ancient city. However, dad loved Lake Como the most. Some afternoons I would find him relaxing going over sketches for his future villa located in mountains over looking the lake. He loved sharing his dreams with me. He had a gift for communicating his ideas. I loved the way his eyes would light up with enthusiasm explaining his plans to me as he paired over his glasses. I realized then that dad was happiest when following his passions and dreaming large. Dad probably knew he would never have a villa built on one of the mountains of Lake Como, but that never stopped him from dreaming. He probably was thinking the same thing as he circled the estate in Santa Cruz but he didn’t stop dreaming. My point is simple: dreams are the foundation for the reality we will ultimately realize through God’s help. We must be dreamers as well as people that make those dreams a reality. That was the type of man my father was and I will never forget him for that.

So, Let us never stop dreaming. Let us never stop realizing those dreams. Dad taught me what it is to have an insatiable passion. He taught me how to dream large and to go after that dream with all I have inside of me. And I will always love you dad, for that.