I had my share of Pad Thai there...

Thailand. Arriving in Bangkok, my first impression of this country was (in comparison to India) just like home. Pristine, glistening, modern airport; cool and comfy air-conditioned shuttle bus; signs and skyscrapers everywhere; traffic - staying confined to the painted lines; and 7-11's on every corner. This was going to be a comfortable place.

After settling in to our quiet guesthouse just off Kho San Road, we headed out to explore this new and intreaging place. The streets near Kho San were littered with food stalls, in addition to the clothing, DVDs, jewelery, wood carvings, and fish massage??? And then I saw it. The big round green and white sign that adorned many Tshirts in the nearby stalls. Starbucks. Now, over two months have passed since I've had a tall-half-sweet-non-fat-caramel-machiatto, of which most of you know I had become VERY accustomed to, very much TOO accustomed to. So it was really nice for those two months to forget that addiction while slowly developing a new addiction for chai in India. But when I saw that familiar mermaid logo, something took over me. It felt far too long over due.

With much heart-pumping caffeine flowing through our bodies, we continued wandering in the quest for the perfect Pad Thai. Now, it is nearly impossible to make a bad Pad Thai, it is basically fried noodles, tofu, egg and veg with some tasty sauces. I am really just using this "quest" thing to justify eating Pad Thai everyday, multiple times a day. And I think the quest ended later in Chiang Mai when I was able to learn how, in a cooking class, to make my own. I was then content that I would always be able to make the perfect Pad Thai.

Chiang Mai, in the far north of Thailand, only made Thailand more likeable. We stayed at an amazing guesthouse, wandered around many Wats, shopped at some local markets, and rented a scooter to explore nearby waterfalls. The landscape outside of town was luscious green, moutainous, and very peaceful.

Next was a trip to nearby Chang Thai Elephant Conservation Center. There are many places in Thailand to see and ride elephants, but this was a rehabilitation center where the elephants are treated as well as trained. After spending 2 days there with my very own elephant, Wadna, I can attest that the elephants have got it made at this place. A typical day began by hiking halfway up a mountain to retrieve Wadna (they slept in the forest everynight on a 100ft long chain) and riding her down to the watering hole where she would have her first of 3-4 baths for the day. Next was a hefty breakfast of bananas and sugarcane, followed by training her to let me up and down in several ways, pick up a stick, lay down, and walk on a log. Once that was done, it was time for bath number 2 and a live performance to show off her tricks and skills. She also painted pictures during the show...pretty cool. Probably the coolest thing we did n this whole trip. Check out the website at http://www.changthai.com/.

Before returning to Bangkok, we stopped at Sukhothai historical park, which had some amazing and beautiful ruins. We rented another scooter to explore the original capital of Thailand, which was worth it for the natural airconditioning alone. It was HOT there.

The rest of our time in Thailand was spent on the beaches of the island Koh Pha Ngan in the south, where we only had one day of rain(out of six), one coconut break through the roof of our hut in a storm, a few mosquito bites and umpteen dishes of Pad Thai. We rented yet another scooter and were able to explore the entire island and find the best beaches. White sand, palm trees, turquoise water, endless coral, absolute paradise.

I think everybody should visit Thailand at least once in their life if given the opportunity.

Incredible India

There are so may things I like about India, and in fact, they are the same things I liked before we got there...beautiful colorful saris, color everywhere really, the festivals, and the food; the sweet, spicy, creamy curry. But behind all of these things, what I saw was a sad, struggling, poverous and very corrupt country. There are so many people, and they are all just trying to make a living in whatever way they know how. Driving a rickshaw, selling jewelery or fabrics, guiding vulnerable tourists to their hotel (which will pay them a commission for each person they bring in). And behind each of these businessmen is a small home where a wife, children, siblings and even parents are waiting for them to bring home enough rupees to scrape by for another day. The people that are lucky enough to own a small peice of land or even a shop try to keep it as clean and tidy as they can, everyday dusting the dirt and garbage off the step to the side of the road. And after the cows and pigs and dogs have eaten any food or plant scraps or leftover marigold heads, it will eventually get brushed off the side of the road to off the side of a cliff, which is the only place it can end up and usually leads to a river or stream. The same river or stream where they may drink and bathe everyday. A giant avalanche of colorful plastic and wrappers and old clothes. Out of sight, out of mind. But for how long? How long until these millions of people get together and revolt against a government that can't even organize a simple waste collection system?

Arriving in Delhi (our last stop) we take a prepaid taxi, thinking we've finally figured out how to get by in this country...we make sure to hold onto the ticket until we've reached our destination, just like the back of the paper tells us to. We eventually arrive to the busy Pahar Ganj market area near our hotel, and the driver looks around...kind of like he might be lost. Instantly a crowd of men gather around to help him, and tell us her can't drive through the crowded streets, that we have to take a bike rickshaw. We look down the road and see a few cars so we hold our ground. "Just get us close and we will walk." He knows where he is going, it's in the Lonely Planet, first one on the list. He's done this whole routine before. So he sighs. says something in his native tongue along the lines of, "I've got a couple of smart ones back there!" and puts the car in drive.

We eventually get to a fork in the road. He signals for us to get out, it's a long way down the road, he points. Ironically, the same rickshaw driver is there again. We say we are walking and he points again. By now, we've learned to ask shopkeepers for directions; they have no reason to send you the wrong way, they want you to be able to find their store again easily and to remember them. We ask the first guy we see, and it turns out we've already walked too far, we were dropped off right around the corner to our hotel. The rickshaw would've taken us for a nice tour in a complete but confusing circle, with a couple stops at his brothers/uncles/fathers shop first.

There is an endless cycle of passing on the vulnerable tourist, each dishonest businessman after another, all earning a small (or large) commission off the next. It makes it really hard to accomplish even the most simple daily tasks. It also really wears your patience thin and starts to make you think of getting even. Nohing major, maybe just taking a hotel's newspaper after being mistreated and misled. (Just a random example...heh heh.) But it feels easier to begin to think this way when people take advantage of you everyday. And that's how it starts. Why even try anymore? If your neighbour, your friend, your boss are all trying to take a peice of your earnings, why wouldn't you try to take a peice of someone else's?

We're almost out of India on a bus to Nepal. We're dropped off at the border to spend the night, and then onto Kathmandu in the morning. Our group of 20 or so travellers get off the bus to walk to the border in the pitch black. After a 12 hour bus ride we had plenty of time to discuss how much of a sham "Paul's travels" and his "Deluxe bus" was and how we should've saved money and done it oursleves. As we approach the border we can make out the faces of 3 men by candlelight, scarfing down their dinners. A fourth man is handing out immigration forms. Just as we are finishing up, we notice two Japanese tourists from our group have been handed the wrong form (they weren't the only ones) they were handed an arrival form. Now, there was not another soul in sight besides our group all coming from the same side, so how the guy thought people were arriving??? I'm sure it was part of the master scheme. The paper man starts yelling, Ben and I watch curiously but cautiously. Basically he is blaming them and won't give them the correct "departure" form. He screams, "This is official government office, these forms have numbers!" and denies them new forms. At this point we can't help but step in, we're all in this together right? Strength in numbers! We say it must have been a mistake and couldn't he rip it up, or better yet just write VOID? "Official government papers, you give me 200 rupees!" he yells. Ben replies with the most clear and obvious response, "That's not fair..." but says it in the most gentle and juvenile way, like you would say to a three year old who wouldn't share a toy. We convince him that it was a mistake, and that they are sorry, and could they please have the proper form? He hesitates and finally gives in.

On to Nepal!