27 December 1989, Chonburi, Thailand

This is the first day of my bicycle trip. Actually these first two days of the ride from Pattaya to Bangkok will serve as a breaking-in period, to shake down the equipment and to get myself into shape, mentally and physically. The main portion of this trip will take me through 'Isaan Lao', the Northeast of Thailand, the homeland of the Lao people of Thailand, the poorest part of the country and least affected by tourism. Much of the trip will be along or near the mighty Mekong River. I had been planning this journey for a number of years now, and finally the time has arrived and the opportunity to perhaps experience the magic of that part of the country and people I have come to love so much, which are still relatively unaffected by the materialism of modern Western society.

Prior to arricing in Thailand I have just been through perhaps the most moving event in my life so far. On my way over to here I had spent some time in Europe, and while there heard on the news about to breaching of the infamous Berlin Wall. It did not take me any time to decide to go there myself, so I could personally witness this event, and the next Saturday I was actually in Berlin. To see 17 million people all of a sudden freed from the gigantic jail East Germany had been had particular significance for me personally, since as a youth, I had lived four years in East Germany myself, and had experienced the humiliation on my own body and soul of having to live under this regime.

Meanwhile, since my arrival in Thailand, I have been taking it easy with a well deserved rest over the Christmas holidays at Pattaya, the famous beach resort near Bangkok. The American navy was in when I arrived. An aircraft carrier, the 'Forrestal', together with several other ships were anchored offshore, and the town was full of American sailors. That, together with the fact it was only days before Christmas, ensured that the famous (or infamous, whichever way one looks at it) Pattaya night life was going full swing. Even so, I was able to get a decent, quite nice and reasonably priced room (150 Baht = Can$ 7.00) with fan and private toilet and shower only a couple of hundred of metres from the beach. I just let myself drift, sitting in a rented lawn chair by the beach during the afternoons and cruising the bars during the evenings. I had forgotten how delicious Thai food is, especially the seafood. I just revelled in the unaccustomed warmth, the seemingly never-ending sunshine, the ready smiles in the faces of the people (even here where they are after the tourist dollar), and the carnival atmosphere of the season.

Christmas carols in Canada have a habit of turning me off, because of the commercial exploitation I associate with them, but here they seemed to be in place, although the trees on the beach were coconut and not spruce. Somehow I enjoyed hearing 'Rudolf the Red nosed Reindeer' and 'Jingle Bells' sung by Thai childrens' voices. It had a ring of innocence, where in Canada I always equate these tunes with jadedness and commercial motives. I suppose, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and your own mental makeup has a lot to do with what you like and what you do not.

And then I thoroughly enjoyed the company of Su, one of the bar girls I got acquainted with. She had come to Pattaya from the 'Isaan' where her family was part of the Khmer speaking minority in Buri Ram province near the Cambodian border. Being stuck with two children from a wife beating common-law husband she finally left him and had joined the throng of those other poor girls flocking to the tourist havens such as Pattaya. Here they hope to earn the kind of money they can never hope to earn at home, should they be so lucky to find a job at all. And with regular transmittals home they support their offspring as well as the rest of their family. But also they hope to find the happiness they feel, they were cheated of, in the shape of a handsome and good-hearted 'farang' (foreigner) who perhaps eventually offers them marriage, or at least a permanent relationship (and financial security), and does not physically abuse them, as so many Thai men seem to do.

The world is full of people who search for happiness, and here in Pattaya, as well as in the bars of Bangkok, you can find many of those of the female gender, who, besides devotion, have to offer the beautiful faces and bodies, which almost all Thai women have. However communication is difficult. The quality of the English, most of them speak, varies and is unfailingly insufficient to discuss all but the very simplest topics. Of course, many of them come from a background which would not allow them to have attended high school, otherwise they would be able to obtain other employment. With that lack of schooling they must think themselves rather lucky to earn the 2500 Baht/month they do as go-go dancers or bar girls here. Only a higher grade secretary makes that much in Bangkok. To this they can add the 30 or 40 Baht the bars pay them for each drink one of the customers might buy them, and then maybe, if they really like the man, they will accompany him to his hotel for a night of love making, for which he, like as not, came here for, and which she, as a healthy and young girl, uninhibited by Western puritan morals, feels she needs occasionally, and which earns her what for her is a princely fee.

Maybe, perhaps maybe, her partner for the night turns out to be the really nice man he appeared to be in the bar, and this one night of sexual gratification can become a week, or a month, and maybe it can develop into a permanent relationship, which will provide her with an object for her devotion and the financial security she so desperately needs. To her this is not the cold financial deal that the sale of sex in the Western world is to the prostitute there. It is not the 'I give my body' and 'You pay the money' (up front, of course) and the sooner it is over the better. To most of the girls here it is more of a gamble of the heart. It is, she believes, possibly the only real opportunity she might ever get to achieve happiness in life, outside of the constraints of a society which already has labelled her as a 'has-been' because of the impediment of her offspring. This opportunity she must grab with both hands, while the beauty of her body still lasts.

And great is the courage of them, or perhaps it is naiveté. Su told me of her 'sister', speak distant relative/friend, who had come to Pattaya together with her several months earlier. She had met her fairy prince, an Australian doctor, and gone with him to Australia. According to Su her English language capabilities had been limited to two words, 'yes' and 'no'. Was this the 'great love' that would mature into marriage? Would this doctor be happy with a girl of that background in the long run? Perhaps yes. She would learn English eventually, although it would take a few years, and tax his patience. But he would be rewarded with the devotion which the typical oriental woman exhibits, as well as with the beauty of her physical attributes. She might eventually acquire the sophistication which he would want in his woman. But it all would be a long and sometimes painful learning (and for him a teaching) process. And maybe the patience would not be there, or she would find out he was not the fairy prince he appeared to be during his holiday. And the relationship would break up and she would be cast into a strange and threatening world, with which to cope she had not acquired the skills, above all the very basic one of speaking the foreign language.

And the worst scenario is, and this happens, that on the part of him it was just a trick to get her to come with him. Then it would be revealed to her that she was taken to work as a prostitute and not as a life companion for him. The incidence of this happening, of course, is not very high, and more likely to occur to those girls taken to Europe or Japan. But one cannot help wondering what consequences such a drastic step might have, to leave one's accustomed surroundings and to trust oneself to an almost totally strange person without the safety net of one's own financial resources and familial connections..

As anxious as the girls of Pattaya are to meet the foreigners of the Caucasian race, as reluctant they are for the company of those well heeled Muslim visitors from the oil rich countries of the Middle East. For good reason, as these come only for the sex and are not very considerate in how they are going about to get it. The girls are often mistreated and they do not like it. Things have got so bad that there often is open hostility against Arabs, particularly Saudis. In one bar I saw a sign which under the picture of a pig's head with Saudi head-dress had the inscription 'We do not like to have Arabs sit at this bar and drink and molest our women'. This is strong stuff indeed when one realises it is directed at potential well paying customers. The ill feeling that Arabs have generated here is further illustrated by the fact that recently the mayor of Pattaya publicly voiced his opinion that Arab visitors should officially be discouraged to visit here, especially those from Saudi Arabia.

On to the Mekong!
 

Still 27 December 1989, Chonburi, Thailand

Pattaya is now behind me, at least for the near future, and I am on the road, 56 kilometres down the road in fact. The 10-speed bicycle, I had bought in Pattaya,  and my body have kept up well. The sky mercifully clouded over, after I had covered half the distance to Bangkok, otherwise I might have ended up with some sunburn. My right elbow seems to be giving me some problems. But I was aware of that before, the lugging of my heavy suitcase lately did not help that. Let's hope it will not deteriorate drastically during this trip. It just needs some long rest in the sun.

This area is not exactly scenic, and as I am getting closer to Bangkok, the traffic is getting heavier and the diesel fumes denser. Well, only another day of this. This is just the training phase, and once I get to Ubon Ratchathani (one long day's train ride from Bangkok) I shall be in more amenable surroundings.
 

Later

After a bit of a rest I went out into the town. While looking for the area where I had stayed overnight the last time, when I was passing through here by bicycle with my daughter Kirsten three years ago, I noticed that I taken my present lodgings almost in the eastern outskirts of town. This is all right, because I shall sleep better because the traffic noises will be less. I did some necessary shopping for soap powder and a small towel. The towel becomes necessary because of the heat. Bicycling one feels well enough while one is moving, the passing air cooling the body, but as soon as one stops the sweat just comes pouring out, and to wipe it away the towel is needed. The girls at the shop had lots of fun serving the 'farang' and were quite surprised when a couple of Thai words came forth from my mouth.

So far I have met nobody here who speaks a word of English, so I am entirely dependent on what little Thai I do know, and that basically is limited to the number system and little else. When I sat down for supper and was presented with a menu entirely in Thai I was quite proud of myself to be able to decipher a couple of the meals utilising my language guide, and to order accordingly. A third of my order had been misunderstood, but I made do, and that is good for a start.

A visit to the movies closed off the day. A story set in the countryside, which I suppose demonstrated the Thai way of looking at life's problems. For some reason I could not understand, because of the missing language: the young wife of a farmer deserts him and their small child and reluctantly marries a rich man in the city. The farmer finds another wife, either the friend or the sister of the deserter, and they happily raise his child from his first woman. Later the real mother of the child comes to claim it, and the farmer is rewarded with the present of a deed of land. Everybody is happy as the rains signal the end of the dry season.
 

28 December 1989, Bangkok

I had not planned to come all the way to Bangkok today. My destination had been Samut Prakhan, a medium sized town about 25 kilometres out of Bangkok on my way in from Chonburi. This way I thought I would have to spend only one night in Bangkok and also get to know another one of the smaller towns of Thailand. I also thought that to attempt the 92 kilometres to Bangkok was biting off a little too much this early in my less than perfect physical condition. However after arrival at Samut Prakhan at about noon I was unable to find a decent hotel to stay in. The one that was pointed out to me looked dingy and uninviting. There must have been others, better ones, because this was a sizeable town, but after a while of looking I just did not feel I wanted to search them out. I felt good and ready to do the other 25 kilometres, and so I just continued.

I knew that these last kilometres riding into the big metropolis would become quite a chore with the dense traffic, the noise and the typical suburbia of industrial estates and never-ending commercial zones. And indeed, it turned out to be just that. Surprisingly enough, as I got nearer to the city centre, although traffic got heavier still, the riding got easier. But then the pavement was smoother, and the frequency of traffic lights and the crowds of people provided distractions from the tedium of just pushing yourself forward. However, one could let oneself be distracted by the lively movement around only while stopped. When in motion one's entire attention, including one's peripheral vision, had to be dedicated to watching the traffic around. Dodging between buses stopping to take on and let off passengers and between passing and weaving motorcycles is an art, but I found it easy to learn and soon enjoyed the exciting exercise.

Before I knew it I was at my destination, the Soi Ngam Dupli area of Bangkok. Now I am checked in at one of the cheap hotels for 170 Baht/night for a large comfortable room with fan and private bath. To be sure this is one of the tourist ghettos of Bangkok, but accommodation is plentiful and cheap, although rather crowded now during the high season. If one is really on a budget one can stay in a small, but clean room with fan and shared toilet for a little as 60 Baht. I am afraid I am a little spoilt and willing to spend three times that much.

I am typing this as I sit in one of the little outdoor restaurants. Between paragraphs I look up and watch the crowd at the other tables which consists mainly of Australians on their summer holidays chatting with each other or with their Thai girl friends. By the looks of them I would not be surprised if half of them had AIDS, as they appear not to be too choosy in their bed partners. How they can understand each other in the deafening noise of competing sound systems, not to speak of the steady stream of noisy 'tuk-tuks' (motorcycle rickshaws) and motorcycles on the narrow street I shall never understand.

This morning's ride out of Chonburi was very pleasant, once I had passed the turn-off where the freeway to Bangkok separated from Highway No. 3. I was following the old Highway 3 now. Although by doing so I had in effect added 10 kilometres to my ride and had to put up with frequent stretches of bad pavement, I was rewarded by the unique scenery of the estuary of the Chao Prya (Menam) river. The highway in fact formed the sea wall dividing the saline foreshore from the luxuriously green freshwater lagoon area of the estuary. On the right a wide 'Klong' (canal) paralleled the road. Many of the houses there were neat looking. It was a peaceful rural scene with the occasional bather in the clean water, levered fishing nets in front of the dwellings and ever so often one of the typical long, narrow boats passing by with their long shafted engines. On the left, where the mangroves had been cleared away, the land had been ponded and was being used for aquaculture. Everywhere one could see rotating paddle wheels aerating the water for the marine life (probably mostly shrimp) grown in them. On others a white scum could be seen which indicated that these were being used for the production of sea salt by evaporation.

It has become a habit for me to stop every 15 kilometres or so at one of the roadside restaurants or food stalls in order to replenish my body fluids with a soft drink and to rest my backside on a different underpadding than the saddle of my bicycle. At one of these stops in a little cosy place on stilts over the Klong I was joined at the neighbouring table by a couple of monks in their distinctive yellow robes. Traditionally these monks are only allowed four possessions, their robe, their sandals, an umbrella and a bowl to beg for food. They are not allowed to eat after midday, and in the morning  they make the rounds asking for food to be put into their bowls by the lay populace. These two though drove up in a car, sat themselves at one of the tables and promptly were provided with the menu from which they chose. One of them lit up a cigarette, which I dare say is probably not one of the luxuries the Buddha had in mind for his professional disciples to indulge in. But then smoking was introduced long after the Buddha had died, and he could not have foreseen its ill effects and portent for addiction.
 

31 December 1989, Ubon Ratchathani

I had meant to write something on the train. I had ridden third class, second class having been sold out when I inquired the afternoon before. I was sold a ticket at the unbelievable price of 115 Baht for the 600 kilometre trip. It was handed to me with a car and seat designation, so I expected I would have a seat and could write my diary then. I had arrived an hour earlier to check in my bicycle and met with quite a crowd which also had baggage to check. Finally at about 15 minutes before departure all the formalities had been taken care off including the payment of the fee of 56 Baht, and I had delivered my bike at the baggage car. When I got to my car though, I found it to be crammed full and my supposed 'reserved' seat taken up by somebody else. I suppose third class 'reservations' are  not honoured here, since my showing of what I considered my reservation slip did not produce any reaction. So I accepted the situation, put my backpack on the floor and sat down on it. The ride was far from comfortable, especially during the heat of the day, but it was bearable, and somehow the ten hours passed and with a setting sun we arrived. Of food and drink there was no shortage, as vendors squeezed themselves through the crowded cars in an almost continuous stream. Later on I had a tasty Thai breakfast, rice with egg and vegetables, spicy hot. The people around me were friendly and shared their snacks with me freely, but conversation was hardly possible because of mutual language deficiencies. A family with a rambunctious five year old had also squeezed themselves into our compartment, and the child proved to be rather a bother.

A couple of Arab looking young men, who conversed in English among themselves, were in the same car. But they got out west of Khorat (Nakon Ratchasima) where there is a national park. Towards the end of the trip a young man spoke to me. Obviously he wanted to try out his English, which was somewhat limited. He told me he was from Udon Thani and now going for a visit to Ubon. He had a job in Bangkok in a restaurant and had also worked in Pattaya before.

I knew from an earlier visit that the Ubon railroad station was quite a few kilometres out of town and on the other side of the river. But then we had been driven into the town in a 'samlor' (bicycle ricksha), and when one is not the driver one does not watch one's directions very well. So this time I got a little lost in the neighbouring town near the railway station, not realising that I had to travel almost 10 kilometres cross country to get to Ubon. I finally made it and found my intended hotel, the 'Raja', in the dark. Here I have a vast room with my usual conveniences, private bath and fan, set off the main street for 120 Baht/night.

After a much needed bath I set out for supper and what entertainment the night might offer. On the way in I had noticed that the town centre was blocked off for traffic, and that is where I headed first, finding the central square occupied with a huge New Year's fair. There were midways of every kind and description, different exhibition stalls, innumerable bands playing, and the entire population of Ubon (50000) must have been there. The din emanating from neighbouring competing stalls was just overpowering, and I really could not stand the assault on my eardrums for a very long time. The army too had a number of stalls where merrymakers could shoot rifles etc. One of their stalls had a contraption where two airplanes where circling overhead, and for ten baht one could, by remote control, drop their rockets onto miniature troop camps and villages underneath. An uncanny replay this of what the Americans were doing over Vietnam and Cambodia not too long ago from, among others. the former air base in this very town. And now the Thai people, for the Judas money received for permitting the Americans to bomb Cambodia and Vietnam from their territory, are reaping the bitter harvest of a never- ending flood of Cambodian refugees and combatants over the not too distant border.

Later I went to the bar at the Pathumrat Hotel, the luxurious although not that expensive place where all the aid workers here seem to stay. I had hoped I would be treated to some nice Thai singing, as I was eight years ago, but was to be disappointed. As I walked in a girl was singing, though somewhat loudly. I settled down to an order of coke and 'Mekong' (Thai rum). Three bottles of coke and one 330 cc bottle of rum were served to me immediately for the price of 100 bath. However the musical offering changed quickly thereafter. The girl singer disappeared and a long haired male youth took over. The electric guitars started to blast away, and again the din virtually drove me out of the place. I paid my bill, took my bottle of Mekong with me and went off to bed. Times obviously are changing, and the distinctive, soft, beautiful and haunting type of vocal entertainment, which I remember from earlier visits is now disappearing and being replaced by the assault on the eardrums that is the norm for North America.

So what happened yesterday and the night before in Bangkok? That first night I went to the bar at the Malaysia Hotel, just around the corner from my place, where I had enjoyed a night of Thai singing on earlier occasions, once with my son and once with my daughter. I had my meal with a bottle of Mekong. Yes, the singing was there and fairly nice too, except a little on the loud side. Each girl was only on for one song at a time, and they had quite a score of them there. After a while I got quite drunk. As a matter of fact, I finished most of the bottle. Later the girls were dancing, coming onto stage in swim suits etc. It was quite a fun time, I chatted to one of them, who spoke some English, for a while. Somehow I made it back to my hotel, and even in the morning, several hours later, I was still a little tipsy.

Next day I only had to check for mail at the American Express office and look after my railway ticket, and it was to bed early, as I had to get up next morning at 04:30. As I had some time on my hands I went to what is called 'physical massage'. This seems to be a new term which I do not remember from my previous visits. It distinguishes the traditional Thai massage from those services which are often less of a massage than an excuse for the sale of sex. This turned out to be quite an experience. For a full two hours the girl went over every inch of my body and subjected it to every imaginable kind of manipulation of limbs and muscles. I still marvel at her strength and stamina, because as the massager she had to do the work, even I, the massaged, was exhausted after the exercise, but wonderfully relaxed.

Back to today! This morning I paid for another night at the hotel here in Ubon, as I feel there is no point rushing on too quickly. Only tomorrow I shall leave for the wilds of 'Isaan Lao'. I cruised around a bit on my bike, trying to recall the streets where we had visited eight years ago with my friend Onnorm, who then lived here. I had originally met her in one of the Bangkok bars, now almost 11 years ago, and had stayed in contact with her through letters. Now I had not heard from her for many years, and the latest I knew, she was trying to go to Saudi Arabia to earn the extra money she needed to feed her family of three sons and ageing mother. She was one of the typical girls from this part of the country with a broad Lao face and a happy disposition. Her life had been heavily impacted by the American presence here during the Vietnam war, and perhaps it too had been a major cause of the destruction of her marriage. I remember her with a great deal of nostalgia. It was through her that I discovered a lot of the qualities of the Thai people. Perhaps too many years have gone by since then, and I did not want to make a special effort to search her out, even if she still lived here. Maybe it is best the past be left alone.

Yes, I bought something again. One of these colourful sarongs Thai men and women used to wrap themselves in. One cannot buy this kind of thing in clothing shops any more, it is not 'in' and only in the countryside people still wear this garment. I had to search high and low and finally found some street vendors selling them near the market. Since those sold here are rather narrow, I had one cut in half and the two strips sown together side by side. I am using it as a bed sheet, as a replacement for my last 'lungi' bought in India many years ago which had got lost on my last trip.
 

1 January 1990, Amnat Charoen

I arrived here at around noon, as it was getting really hot. This is just a cross-roads where highways 202 and 212 cross, and I was surprised to see so many stores and buildings, as there are. There was actually a hotel here that even had its name posted in English, and so I was spared camping out in the open tonight for which I had mentally already prepared myself. There was ample opportunity for that at certain spots throughout my ride today, and according to the map camping opportunities should become more plentiful farther north, as the rice fields are replaced by more wooded areas. At one time I had even contemplated doing the additional 90 kilometres to Mukdahan. However, I realised that the 75 kilometres I actually did were quite enough for one day. After I had had my 'shower' I just fell into a sleep of exhaustion from which only now at 16:00 hours I am recovering.

As it will become the pattern for the days to come, I got up at 06:00 hours at dawn and was on the road at 06:30, just as the sun was coming over the horizon. Soon I had stopped at one of the many roadside local restaurants cum store and had an orange juice, three doughnuts and a couple of cups of black coffee having successfully conveyed to the owner lady that I did not want the customary half cup of condensed milk at the bottom of the cup below the coffee. Somehow they pour it that there is a distinct line of separation between milk and black coffee and the contents of the cup are then stirred by the customer to mix the two fluids. She made me Nescafe rather than the local coffee strained through a nylon stocking and served it with powdered milk and sugar separate in deference to my different taste.

The road was excellent, and for most of the distance even had a paved shoulder on which cycling was almost as good as on the main pavement. There were only very slight hills and I zipped along at a steady 20-23 kilometres/hour. On both sides were dry rice paddies, their only harvest of the year having recently been taken off and the paddies waiting for the Southwest monsoon in June to provide more moisture so that they could be worked and planted for the next crop. They were all quite small fields, hardly any with longer dimensions than ten metres and quite impossible to be worked by large machinery. One could see many water buffalo grazing on them herded by children or old women. All the field work here is done by hand, the harvesting by cutting the ears of grain with a small sickle leaving much of the stalks standing. Even some of the threshing is still done by pounding the sheaves onto the ground on special flat areas, as I have seen from time to time. The working of the sun baked ground after the long dry season is done with the ponderous water buffalo, or sometimes by the more prosperous with a special hand tractor I have seen exhibited for sale in some of the shops.

This morning I was glad to see that the old custom of feeding the monks is still being practised. Women were kneeling at the side of the road with their food offerings which the young monks had come to collect. These boys are putting in their customary period of monkshood to receive religious instruction, and some of the women making their food offering may very well be their mothers. However, even though of such tender age, a monk is a holy person and cannot be touched by a mere female, even if it is his mother, so the transfer of food must take place very circumspectly.

Most of my breaks today I took on the side of the road and refreshed myself with water from the bottle I carried, not finding too many places where soft drinks were sold. Only once a little hamlet was conveniently located at the proper distance interval (around 12-15 kilometres) so that I stopped for a coke. Here a group of idle men sat enjoying the morning, whether because of today's New Year's holiday or because not much is being done during the dry season anyway, I am not sure. I joined them. One spoke a couple of words of English, and we exchanged the usual 'from where' and 'to where' and other small talk as much as our mutual language capabilities permitted. One of the men expressed his admiration of my leg muscles by feeling them a couple of times. From that demonstration I got the idea I should maybe press on towards Mukdahan today. But this was earlier, before it really started getting hot.

By talking with them and asking directions from others I notice that my pronunciation is not up to standard. Thai, as Chinese, is a tonal language. One might say it is rather sung than spoken. The language is largely monosyllabic. Since one particular syllable may have different meanings, depending on its tone, it is important to distinguish it from others by the proper tonal inflection, high, low, middle, rising or falling, or by the context in which it is placed..

This day, as many of the following days  are expected to be, is going to be cheap: 27 baht for breakfast, 25 for lunch and 80 baht (Can$ 3.50) for the room will not strain my budget. The room is quite adequate, clean and comfortable bed, fan and private toilet. The shower is of the pitcher and reservoir type, and the toilet the Asian stand up one. But all is very clean and there is plenty of water. I am pleased.

Last night in Ubon I had had another attempt at the entertainment scene with similar results as the day before. The music was much too loud for my liking, and I did not stay very long. My supper though was an unqualified success. I had an absolutely delicious Thai mixed seafood casserole, the same I had already tasted in Pattaya. How they can preserve the freshness of these different types of seafood that far from the coast and in this climate is a miracle. There was fish, crab, shrimp, squid and vegetables in this casserole, and everything was so delicately spiced with chillies, basil leaf and what not. It was food for the gods.

Now I am back at my room. As the sun set I took my bike and cruised through the town. Next to the cinema I had an ice cream in the small local ice cream parlour. Then I just cycled along the streets and soaked up the atmosphere, as a thirsty person soaks up the fluid of life he has been deprived of. And then I sat down for a sumptuous supper in the best restaurant in town. It was not an elaborate place but just clean and decent. The pretty waitresses wore uniforms, and it was just a pleasure watching them serve the guests. Again I was treated to the most delicious food, chicken cooked with basil leaf, 'Tom Yum Kung', the delicious soup of shrimp, ginger, mushrooms, lemon grass and chillies which is my favourite Thai meal and a large Singha beer. Accompanied by soft Thai music from a radio or tape player and being served by these Thai girls with their easy and natural smiles, it was paradise re-discovered. For too long have I missed this, and finally I am here where I feel so good and where I can learn to smile again myself. This is the real Thailand of the small towns where I truly feel at home.
 

2 January 1990, Mukdahan

It was 14:00 hours by the time I arrived here after an exhausting 92 kilometres. Of course, by this time I had had my lunch, for which I had stopped at one of the little cross-roads, where there were three or four little restaurants. I pointed to a plate with what appeared to be beef or pork in little pieces, to a tomato, a cucumber and  a couple of sweet chillies and made a stirring motion while pointing at the wok. What resulted was a simply delicious dish, which with plain boiled rice and a couple of iced soft drinks was just the right recipe to carry me the remaining 26 kilometres.

Here in Mukdahan I headed straight for the end of the road and was rewarded with a breathtaking view of the mighty Mekong River, which must be all of two kilometres wide at this point. On the other side lies the city of Suvanakhet in the Peoples' Republic of Laos. Just as I arrived, a ferry was going over to the other side. It would be interesting to find out what effect the recent upheavals in Eastern Europe have had on this small country, which was heavily supported by just those countries which have now thrown off the communist yoke. Perhaps I shall have the opportunity to find out.

The country through which I passed today was just a little bit more hilly, and I had to change gears a number of times. My old map had indicated it as mostly forested, but now even the uneven ground was heavily cultivated with rice. The fields though were longer and thus more amenable to mechanical cultivation, another sign of their more recent origin. Later on the rice was replaced by sugar cane. Trucks with cane stalks passed by on the road on their way to the mills, and often the sweet putrid smell of the cane juice was evident.

First thing this morning, I found a small bakery already open, where I had some cake and two cups of coffee. The middle aged proprietress spoke quite decent English. Just about all the stores seem to be open at 06:00 hours in the morning, which for me is convenient and somewhat surprising after my experiences in other Third World countries, where I had bicycled in the past.

Now it is evening. After my initial recovery from the long hours on the road I took a walk into town. At the river I watched the many ferries coming and going across the river into Laos. There is a lot of small trade going across the border now. I understand there are a lot of family ties between both countries and even across Laos into Vietnam on the other side of the mountain range. Some of the people I saw in the street here today are definitely of Vietnamese origin with their narrower faces and finer features.

For a while I was talking with one of the Thai immigration officers who spoke a passable English. He, like I, lamented the fact that the soft Thai popular music seems to be disappearing in the bars, as the teenagers prefer the louder stuff heavily influenced by the West. He also said that Thai and Lao move freely back and forth across the border, but that if I wanted to cross I would have to get a visa in Bangkok.

On my way back I addressed another white person, obviously a traveller like myself, and we sat down to have supper together in one of the restaurants. He was Swiss and was just completing four months of travel through Thailand. Apparently he had been coming here for many years, in fact had been living together with a Thai girl for five years, but had now separated from her. He told me something about the peculiarities of Thai life, how to be careful when drinking with the men, as their temperament can change rather suddenly under the influence of alcohol. He had spent quite some time with his girl friend's family in the Sukkothai region and had learned a fair bit of the Thai language in the process. He felt that the area around Sukkothai was now the most depressed part of the country and not, as formerly, the Northeast. He felt that people there were interested in very little outside of their very narrow horizon. He was much more favourably impressed with people here who 'always were doing something rather than sitting around and lazing the day away'.

The story he related, upon my prompting, about his life with the Thai girl was one of unfulfilled expectations. Like practically all of the girls one finds in the bars she had been of simple origin with little education. This liaison with the foreigner she considered to be her opportunity to better her station in life and with the resultant prosperity to rise on the social ladder. It did not turn out that way. Her language, her choice of words, would always set her apart in this country, and despite her comfortable financial means, prove to those she dealt with her humble origin. He had prompted her to buy some land so that she and her family could work it and escape their fate of being financially dependent upon him. After she had finally indicated that she had found a suitable piece and he had sent the money to buy it, she had succumbed to the temptation and had gambled the money away. This made her 'lose face' to him and she turned to drink, and this then became the end of their relationship.

He had not heard any outside news in the time he was here and was surprised when I told him of the momentous happenings in Eastern Europe over the last few weeks.
 

3 January 1990, Tat Phanom

Starting today I have a series of comfortably short daily distances to cover of only about 50 odd kilometres each. Here I arrived at about noon without being overly exhausted, and I granted myself a large Singha beer with my lunch before I checked into a small hotel. The guide book had said that none of the two hotels had private baths in the rooms, so I was pleasantly surprised when I was shown a room for 70 baht with private bath where the shower faucet is actually working. The room is super clean and one feels really comfortable in this cosy atmosphere.

I do not even look for a fan any more in the room as I find it quite unnecessary. I have so much adapted to the climate that the thin sheet I cover myself with during the night I find almost inadequate. I can well understand the Thais now, who when they go around in the morning or ride on their motorcycles, are dressed in woollen sweaters and wear woollen toques or even balaclavas over their heads. The first hour in the morning while on the bike I now find quite cool, and I am contemplating to put on my wind breaker over my shirt for this time before the sun starts warming the air. Admittedly, this is the 'cool season' here, but this translates to temperatures of 30 to 32 degree maximum and a 20 degree minimum for the night, certainly considerably warmer than the South of Europe.

Just before I arrived I met another 'farang' cyclist coming the opposite direction. He was as surprised as I was, and we stopped and chatted for about half an hour. He was an American living in Singapore on one of his frequent two week holidays in Thailand (his 23rd), and he was on a day circuit of some 150 kilometres on his racing bike, having left his baggage in one of the provincial towns. He was hoping to get some employment in this country, so that he could stay in his beloved Thailand all the time. He was just another Westerner who had been captivated, indeed ensnared, by the spirit of these people and particularly by their women, even though he had actually been married to one of them for two years and their relationship had turned sour.

All morning I had travelled through rolling country. But the grades were not punishing as I was rested. Due to the uneven topography not much rice was grown in this area. Instead there was sugar cane, corn and a variety of other vegetables and even some fruit. At the one stop, where I paused for a coke, a number of women were sitting by the roadside selling ears of boiled corn.

After the heat of the day I ventured out to visit the Buddhist temple for which this town is famous. Towards the end of this month thousands of pilgrims will come here to worship. Reportedly the large stupa contains a piece of the breast bone of the Buddha. As early as eight years after Buddha's death a cairn was built here with this relic inside by Laotian monks, which makes this cult site almost 2500 years old. The present stupa was built in the nineteen fifties after the previous one had fallen down. It really is a beautiful and peaceful place and has a large park around it. It actually is the raison d’être of this town as there is nothing else here of note.

The river here (Mekong) is not nearly as wide as at Mukdahan, but still it is probably one kilometre wide. On the other side nothing can be seen but trees and wilderness. Perhaps it is too far to see cultivation if there is any, but buildings are certainly not evident. Laos apparently is an almost empty country with less than a million inhabitants. No wonder overpopulated Vietnam casts an envious eye on it.

Today was topped off by another absolutely delicious meal, 'Po Taek' (Broken fish trap soup). This is similar to 'Tom Yum Kung' a beautifully spiced soup of a mix of seafoods with ginger, chillies, lemon grass and tomatoes. I am again and again amazed about the beautiful food one can get everywhere here.
 

4 January 1990, Nakon Phanom

Absolute luxury! For 120 baht I have a room at the 'River Inn' which has everything one's heart could desire, except of course the hated AC. Even towel, toilet paper, soap and shampoo is provided. Down on the terrace one can sit over the river and have great food from an English language menu while looking at the karst mountains in Laos. This time for lunch I had some 'Tom Khaa Gai', chicken soup after the manner of ‘Tom Yam Kung’, sour and spicy but with coconut milk, absolutely delicious! With that a coke, vanilla ice cream and fresh pineapple, Mm mm! From the beer I abstained that early in the day so I will not get too sleepy and doze through the afternoon and then be unable to sleep at night.

The road today followed the river closely, which could be seen from time to time. The land again was absolutely flat. However, perhaps due to the nearness of the river, water was more plentiful, and with a lot of irrigation the tracts on both sides of the highway were green. One could see many people working in the fields tending the various vegetable crops being grown. Also a lot of tobacco fields were evident.
 

5 January 1990, Sakon Nakhon

Last night's sleep was not uninterrupted. I had gone to bed rather early, because I wanted to leave at dawn for the 94 kilometre stretch to Sakon Nakhon. There was a bar just below my room and the pleasant Thai singing entertainment went on there until I do not know when. Furthermore, my windows, which I did not know how to close, opened to the street. The traffic outside, mostly of motorcycles with visitors to the bar, seemed to go on without letup. Finally, when the bar closed, it seemed to quieten down. But alas, some of the girls, I do not know whether they were some of the singers, started to bang on the doors of the rooms upstairs just for fun, because they were drunk, or maybe they were looking for bed companions for what little was left of the night. However, I had slept during the afternoon and I felt no ill effects for lack of sleep as I got up at six and prepared myself to leave.

The American breakfast that the menu had promised was out of the question, because the hotel staff was nowhere to be seen at this time. Cake and coffee at one of the bake-shops however was all I needed and cheaper too.

Today I was reaping the benefit of the easterly wind, as my route went straight west. The road also was smooth, almost level and I started to set quite a pace in highest gear averaging at times over 30 kilometres/hour. By 10:30 I had covered 55 kilometres and was passing through the only place of account on the map on my route and decided to stop for an early lunch. For 32 baht I had a delicious stir fried mix of pork and various vegetables with rice and two soft drinks with ice. These prices indeed are easy on my budget. This had been an ample portion, normally for a somewhat smaller but still adequate portion with ice water to drink one pays ten baht.

This really had been the only settlement on this long stretch with any sort of restaurant. This area only seemed to have recently been opened up. There were still extensive forested areas. Instead of Buddhist temples I saw Christian churches and schools. I suppose these new settlers are refugees from the other side of the river or from Cambodia, who have brought their faith with them, as I find it difficult to believe that Thai Buddhists would convert to an alien faith when they are totally satisfied with their own.

Sakon Nakhon is not mentioned in the guide book, I suppose the writer has not visited this place. It is quite a sizeable town, bigger than any other I have visited in the Northeast, other than Ubon. I am checked in at a palatial hotel for the highest price I have paid yet, 140 baht. But I have a telephone in the room, and perhaps I shall make use of it tonight for a call to Canada.
 

6 January 1990, Phang Khon

I had wondered whether on this 160 kilometre stretch I would have to use my tent after all. But then I might have had a problem in finding a place to put it. Unexpectedly, this stretch from Sakhon Nakon to Udon Thani again is rather populated, and there are rice paddies stretching as far as the range of hills to the south. The Christian churches again have given way to Buddhist temples. Today the wind favoured me once more, and at 10:30 hours I had ridden 55 kilometres and decided I had earned a proper rest stop with a flavoured drink. This village at the crossing of two highways looked surprisingly large with high buildings and many shops. I said to myself, if I find a hotel here, I shall stay and leave the remaining 105 kilometres for tomorrow. There is no guarantee there will be a hotel at the village at the halfway point.

As it turned out there was not one but four hotels here, and in one of them, a motel like establishment, I am staying for the night. I do not know how so many hotels can make a living here, because this surplus of accommodation is not matched by a corresponding number of better eating establishments. Sure, there are enough of the noodle shop variety, but nothing that I could find of the kind that would have a printed menu, albeit in Thai only. Anyway, when I went out for lunch after a shower and half an hour of rest I did not find any. Perhaps with the onset of darkness the coloured lights will reveal some that were not quite so obvious during daylight.

Before I went out I was looking for my Thai phrase book and discovered that I did not have it any more, I must have left it behind someplace yesterday. Well, somehow I shall manage. The standard phrases I know now by heart, and I still have  my Thai dictionary. However I am missing the list of delicious meals from the phrase book, and I am now stuck with what I remember and the very abbreviated list in the guidebook. Anyway in this town it will be no problem, since in the noodle shops one only points to the things one wants.

That is exactly what I did at lunch and was rewarded with the usual tasty meal, this time with squid. As I leisurely ate my meal I switched my attention between watching the noonday crowds and the colour TV. The latter the proprietress was switching with her remote control unit with regularity from one to the other of the two available channels, just when the program started to become interesting. Obviously she was rather bored, which her slumped attitude amply demonstrated.

The beer which had accompanied the meal (750 ml) laid me flat for the rest of the afternoon in a drugged sleep. Only now close to sunset I am becoming alive again. I just finished reading one of my two remaining pocket books. More English reading material will be almost impossible to find until I get to Bangkok. Even the Thai English language newspapers are only sold here in the provincial capitals. With all that afternoon sleep I shall be having trouble sleeping during the night. I suspect the entertainment facilities in this small place will be rather limited. There is a movie house here, but the film they are showing I have seen before. But then I slept through the first part of it, and perhaps I shall go and see it again. It was a rather nice Thai movie.

Last night I only got to bed after midnight, so that is partly the reason I slept so much this afternoon. I had had supper at the restaurant attached to my palatial hotel. There were a few other foreigners there eating, two Germans on their holidays with their Thai wives, one even with children. It was somewhat strange in this surrounding to hear these Thai women speak in German. One Dutch was eating there with his Thai Chinese companion. He appeared to be some sort of engineer working with the Dutch airport consulting firm being engaged on the extension of the airport here. Another man, apparently American, also some sort of businessman dined with an unsavoury looking Thai. They were obviously talking about some business deal. So this is the type of people one sees in the environment of a 'luxury' hotel. Although the fan equipped room I had did not cost very much, this hotel with its other air-conditioned rooms apparently represented the apex of Western comfort in this town. I must say I do prefer the kind of place where the backpackers stay.

Later I went to one of the bars for my usual dose of Thai music with a drink. One of the singers really did sing the type of soft music I so like, and the offerings of the others were not too bad. A number of girls with their two male companions were sitting at the next table. These girls may or may not have been hostesses employed by the restaurant to entertain customers, but I rather think they were not. One of them appeared rather bored with her company, the female species being rather in the majority in their group, and started making eyes at me. Well, she ended up sitting at my table. Her company was a bit of a disappointment on two counts. For one, her knowledge of English was more limited than my knowledge of Thai, and then she smoked, although not heavily, and she drank rather copiously. I did have the sneaking suspicion that she might have been a ‘katoey’, one of those transsexuals who dress up as girls. Her deep voice seemed to indicate this, but her (his?) hands were those of a girl and she did consort with what obviously were real girls. Anyway I did not stay long enough to find out for sure. At midnight, and after four large bottles of beer, which were drunk by us and her friends at the other table, and which were paid for by me, I called it quits, as I felt I needed some sleep before tomorrow's early start.
 

7 January 1990, Udorn Thani

At 16:30 hours I rolled into this largish provincial capital after 121 kilometres, a record for this trip. The extra 12 kilometres resulted from a side trip to Ban Chang, the famous prehistorical site. I had meant to visit it tomorrow on a side trip out of here using the bus, but as I rolled past the turnoff I read on the sign there that Mondays and Tuesdays the site was closed to the public. Today being Sunday this was my last chance for the next three days to see this archaeological site. As it was well before noon, and I felt in good shape I decided to make the visit now.

This indeed is ancient country, older still than the Chinese Yellow River area and even older than the famous sites in the Middle East. Only about 20 years ago an American antrophology student, who spent some time in the village of Ban Chang to study the local way of life, fell over a tree root and noticed some pot shards sticking out of the ground. Intrigued, he sent samples to Bangkok, and later they were analysed in the United States to be 7000 years old! Immediately this created a sensation, because this was the oldest yet sign of a human civilisation anywhere in the world.

Later research revised the age of the artefacts to 6000 years, but this new figure still ranks them even with the oldest finds anywhere. Further diggings have now established that the whole of the Sakhon Nakon basin had been settled at that time, that rice was cultivated and domestic animals kept. The metal age with the manufacture of bronze objects and tools was in full swing at about 3000 BC, and iron was worked here as early as 1000 BC Copper was mined in the mountains of the Loei area, through which I shall be passing in a few days, and tin was brought here from the Vientiane area in Laos. Ban Chang village existed continuously until about 500 AD, when it was abandoned. Several hundred years later people from Laos immigrated and settled on the same site and live there now.

At the site there is a museum which presents the details of the research to-date. The actual original digging right in the middle of the present village, where the sensational find was made, can also be inspected. It is right beside the present day Buddhist temple.

Shortly after looking at the diggings I had my usual delicious lunch with two cokes and ice at one of the little noodle shops along the road, all for 22 baht. This was the middle of the day and I took the opportunity to rest a bit and chatted with the good looking lady who owned the place. Well, I chatted as much as one can chat with about 20 words of Thai, since she did not speak one word of English. Her son did so though, at least enough to answer my question as to her age which was 46. This I had felt I could ask since they had enquired about mine, which I always now give at about eight years less than actual. Even so sometimes I am not believed. One has to say though, that Thai men as a rule also look very young for their age.

Later on I came on a police checkpoint, where the officer asked to have a look into my black bags which I carry in front. After the usual 'from where' and 'to where' we had a pleasant conversation, this time in passable English.

Just about ten kilometres before my arrival here I had my first flat tire. Luckily it was the front and so relatively easy to fix. I took the wheel off and inserted my spare tube. Now after inspecting the damaged tube I found that it had been pinched, probably by running over a stone. These things are not serious but would happen much more likely with these thin racing bike tires than with those of a mountain bike.

Last night I had ventured out to explore the night life of that small settlement. Yes, rather unexpectedly, there was a bar, and at 20:00 hours things started to get lively. I sat down to a small bottle of Mekong with coke and started to enjoy myself. There were several singers, not bad, although not the really soft stuff I so much like. After a while some of the tables and chairs in the front were removed to make room for a small dance floor. Social dancing is a fairly recent phenomenon in Thailand, imported from the West, and it shows. Those couples who ventured onto the floor, some of mixed and some of the same sex, exhibited an innocence in this for them new type of entertainment which was heart warming to watch. Even I, who am not a dancer, could have easily participated and would not have felt embarrassed. Hardly any of the participants touched each other, it was more of a dance one is familiar with from cultural shows and temple dances, the graceful movement of bodies and the even more graceful movements of their hands reminiscent of East Indian classical dances or of Balinese 'Legong', just beautiful to watch. It had very little in common with dancing in North America. I had already noticed these hand movements with the girls in the disco in Pattaya. Unfortunately the language barrier prevented me from talking to anybody as I well might have. It is very sad that so much possible interchange is  not feasible because of my inability to express myself in their language or to understand them, because they are such nice people. After an initial reserve, because they want to respect your privacy, they invariably open up after a short while, and a smile is always quickly on their faces.
 

8 January 1990, Nong Khai

Somehow the 56 kilometres today did seem harder than the 121 yesterday. I suppose it was the fact that today I did not have the wind from behind, and was travelling at right angles to it. Also the exertions of yesterday may have something to do with it. Anyway, tomorrow will be my day of rest, well earned after eight days on the road without interruption.

I could not have picked a better place to stay for more than one night. This town is just the right size without being too large to be oppressive like Udorn was, but neither too small to have a lack of diversions. There is a certain French ambience about the place. When one does not look at the modern Thai bank buildings one could almost imagine oneself in Vientiane or Phnom Phen.

I arrived around noon after a late start, after my shower went for lunch. I sat on the veranda overlooking the Mekong River and had an excellent chicken in wine sauce with my Singha beer. The waitress noticed the tape of Thai (turned out to be Lao) music I had just bought a few minutes earlier, and pleased that I liked the local music offered to play it on the restaurant's sound system. It turned out to be a beautiful tape all right, just as the salesgirl's pretty smile had suggested., and I sat there eating, listening and watching the various ferry boats going back and forth across the river. On the next table a few Customs officers were lunching and some other locals a table farther. Did the music and beer have something to do with it, or did I just imagine how handsome all these people, male as well as female, were? It was just a super time, and it is moments like that make one feel glad that one is alive.

There are quite a few tourists in this town. I suppose this is because it is only just across the river from Vientiane, the capital of Laos. But visas are hard to get for Westerners I understand from one tourist I had talked to. Perhaps this was also the reason why I had to inquire at three hotels before I found a place to stay for a price that would fit my budget (100 baht). But find it I did and it is a very pleasant room, clean and airy.

Traffic was quite heavy coming out of Udorn this morning, as it had been coming into the town the afternoon before. Where it went to I do not know, because with increasing distance it seemed to peter out. However Highway No. 2, the 'Friendship Highway' of 'The Ugly American's' fame, the road which the Americans built, probably not so much to aid the country as to improve their Vietnam and Laos war effort, because Udorn was an important air base then, was wide and had wide smoothly paved shoulders. These were quite adequate for bicycles and other slow moving vehicles as well as for those who had decided to travel in the opposite direction on the wrong side of the road. These people are quite a menace in Thailand, because the uninitiated foreigner does not know which way, left or right, to move in order to avoid them. But then all driving is done with tact here, people have their eyes open and accidents, which in a similar situation in the West would be inevitable, are avoided.

I think a lot of the trucks on the highways in the vicinity of Udorn were carrying tapioca to the processing plants. For the last couple of days I had seen a lot of this ginger like root being dried on every available flat surface. It is a big export item for this country being used in Europe and North America for the manufacture of puddings. I still have to see it grown, all I did see in the fields around here was rice.

Last night in Udorn I had again dined royally. They had an English menu at the restaurant I went to but the name of the meal I had chosen had been improperly translated. Instead of ‘crab in lemon sauce’ I got ‘sour and spicy pork soup’. But in this country one just cannot go wrong. The soup was just as delicious as anything else. With pineapple juice, a banana split and real Java coffee my bill came to 80 baht.

The night was topped off with a beer at the bar in my hotel. One of the singers there was as beautiful as any I had yet seen and she sang as well. Unfortunately once she sat down she lighted a cigarette. Well, nothing is perfect.
 

9 January 1990, Nong Khai

After getting up late, or what seemed to be late at 08:30 hours, I trundled over to the river to have some breakfast. Before I got to the nice place with the veranda over the river where I had had lunch yesterday I came across a similar place which backpackers seemed to frequent and decided to eat there. The American style breakfast (eggs, toast etc.) was insipid and chilli sauce (nam prik) was not automatically served. So much for the taste of Europeans. I think I better stick to the places where they have local cake and forget about the 'American breakfast' in the future. My fellow guests spoke French, and I suppose many of the tourists here are French on their way on a semi-organised tour to Laos.

The travel agency, which I had noticed the evening before and which I visited after eating, gave me the information about trips to Laos. Apparently as a foreigner one has to go through one of the five authorised agencies, and if lucky one gets a 15 day visa if booked on one of their three day organised US$ 170.00 tours. Once having paid this penalty one is free to leave on his or her own provided one informs the authorities of one's exact routing. It takes five working days to get this visa. Well, I am not that anxious to do this just now. Probably in a year or so it will become easier as the Lao government sees the world in its true colours, the same as so many other communist governments recently have.

The only other place of interest, that the guide book mentioned, was Wat Phutthamamakasamakhom (Wat Khaek for short) about 'five to six' kilometres east of here, an easy bicycle ride. After I had covered seven kilometres on the way out I decided I must have missed it and turned back to return to town along one of the dusty roads along the river. Later at one of the guest houses, where they had a lot of notices and maps on the walls, I found out, that I had turned back just about two kilometres short of my objective.

But the notice board also told me that there is plenty of backpackers' type accommodation on my way West, where the latest edition of the 'Lonely Planet' guide book had been silent on the subject. At the local cake shop I also talked to a backpacker, another cake aficionado, and he confirmed this, having just come by that route. He also said that the road was good and paved.

Another interesting item from the notice board: Bicycle trips were advertised along the very route I am going to take for the next two days. These are organised by a Canadian and a Thai girl. He is one of those tree planters from the Canadian Rockies who spend their winter months in Southeast Asia. He had been organising bicycle trips in Canada. His girl friend, Suwan, is a girl who through the help of her market vendor sister had been able to attend college in the provincial capital, and while there became interested in bicycling for sport. Somehow the Canadian and this Thai girl met and got together to engage in this business.

Yes, my lunch: At yet another of these veranda restaurants overlooking the river. I had Mekong fried fish with the large bottle of beer which so nicely induces my afternoon nap. The fish had been advertised as 'the fish you eat today slept only last night at the bottom of the Mekong River'. I have no reason to doubt this proud statement as the fish had a distinct muddy taste. However it tasted quite good having been cooked with a lot of garlic.
 

10 January 1990, Sangkhom

Today's 82 kilometre ride was quite eventful compared to the other days. Rather than cutting back 12 kilometres to follow the main highway west I took the old river road. It was paved but full of potholes which, though, were easily avoided by following an appropriate torturous course between them. The local inhabitants were quite used to 'farangs' on bicycles here and the hello's never seemed to stop. Twice motorcyclists slowed down to talk to me, the last one stayed with me for several kilometres. It became quite a chore to divide my attention between avoiding the potholes and talking or listening to him.

Later, just past Thabo, I met two 'farang' cyclists with mountain bikes coming the other way. I yelled and waved, but they just kept going. Either they were blind or deaf, or they did not want to associate with somebody with a mere 10-speed bike and not properly equipped with side bags etc. Coming to think of it they looked a bit dazed. Coming from that direction they must have been on the road a while.

After a while I came into villages where bamboo frames were set out in the sun which had thin transparent disks glued to them. On closer inspection they turned out to be drying frames for rice paper, which is used in the preparation of some Vietnamese meals.

Then I passed along other drying frames set by the side of the road with fine fibres on them that, but for the brown colour, could have been bean sprouts. It turned out to be finely shredded tabacco, which I had seen growing plentifully in the sandy soil in this area.

In Thabo I had stopped for a drink at one of the many open air restaurants. A young man asked me whether he could join me at my table, he wanted to talk with me. He was a Catholic Christian, and he kept calling me brother. He was on his way to Laos, what he wanted to do there he did not elaborate on, but he was not of Laotian origin and had been born in Thailand. He made a very diffident impression and was not the natural ebullient self that other Thai young men are. I am sure his religion, which is alien to this country, had something to do with it. He seemed to be very conscious of it and obviously was seeking me out as a brother in faith. I do not think that being an adherent of a 'farang' religion made his life easy or any richer than had he been a Buddhist. On the contrary, it seemed to have made him a stranger in his own country, impairing his functioning as a normal citizen. I think the Christian churches are making a big mistake  to prosetilyze in societies which function well enough on their own, and which like Thailand certainly have proven to have heir own vibrant religion which provides their adherents with the mental framework for a harmonious life and society. The Catholic church has certainly not proven that it can induce through faith in their specific  brand of religion a framework for society equal in quality to that of Buddhist Thailand.

Upon getting close to my destination for today the hills that the map had promised finally made their presence felt. There is a range of hills here through which the Mekong River must squeeze. Although the road follows the river there are the inevitable headlands to cross which give rise to ascents and descents of varying steepness. One of them was steep enough for me to have to get off the bike and push. But it was not far and it gave me a taste of what I have to expect for most of tomorrow’s stretch.

Here at Sangkhom I am staying in a hut by the river bank at a very simple tourist establishment called the 'River Huts'. These are just simple huts 'Ko Samet' style where one lies on a mat on the floor. The toilet facilities are common but quite adequate. As I am writing this I am splurging on a beer which costs me almost as much as tonight’s accommodation.

The owner told me that only last week two Thai cyclists had stayed here on their trip through 'Issaan Lao', on a similar route as mine. They had come all the way from Chonbury near Bangkok. They had written in his guest book that his was an establishment with no racial prejudices. At the two other guest houses here they had been refused accommodation, as they were Thai and not 'farang'. They complained bitterly saying that their education and English and French language abilities were equal to that of the 'farangs', which the style of writing of their entry into the guest book certainly proved. As a matter of fact their intellectual standard was probably higher than that of the average backpacker. It must be said that some backpackers do have a somewhat narrow outlook, living in their own niche of the world.

This place here is full of them. They seem to stay here for several days. What they do other than reading pocketbooks and lazing the day away I do not know. However it is very peaceful as I am sitting here on the veranda of my little hut, and just in front of me flows the Mekong, and across it are the wilds of Laos. There is nothing there but bush and perhaps a few banana plants by the river.
 

11 January 1990, Pakchom

The 'Niyana Guest House' here was advertised as being in a 'pleasant bamboo grove by the river'. It is indeed pleasant. There are several bamboo huts, and it is wonderfully restful to sit on the veranda, as I am doing now, and to gaze at the river. As I arrived at noon I had a simple but well tasting lunch, a shower and a refreshing nap in the quiet of the afternoon. It promises another quiet restful night, this village being too small to offer any entertainment.

I am finding that this trip is becoming rather emotional for me. This part of the Northeast is just now being touched by the backpack type of tourism. Even the 'Lonely Planet' guide does not yet mention the places I am passing through. So far it has been just word of mouth and little flyers carried by the backpackers, by which these little establishments have attracted their custom.

It feels especially good to cycle through these small villages where the people have the easygoing warmth and friendliness which makes a visit here so worthwhile. I have been trying to analyse or put into words the attitude the people exhibit towards the 'farang'. In the  'civilised' West a woman would be offended, almost feel assaulted, if one looked at her for too long. Here they feel pleased, no matter what age. What are Western women afraid of, an invasion of their jealously guarded privacy, that intimate sphere cultivated man needs to create around him- or herself to shield against our high-tech environment? Or is it the fear of real physical encroachment or attack? These people do not seem to need this shield. They feel secure in their environment, their dignity (the old explorers coined the phrase 'the noble savage') is intact, their psychological health is inviolate and their spirit free of the twisted perversions Western man has made himself a victim of. They can offer their smile and their laugh to the visitor unencumbered and naturally.

This morning's ride was just wonderful. So many uncountable times would I be greeted by a warm 'hello', an oh so beautiful smile, or the happy laughter of a group of girls. It made me feel warm and happy to be alive. It is these qualities of the people here which make me love this country so much, why I have to come back and back again to recover from the relentless 'progress of civilisation', and above all to learn to smile again myself, and to be able again to treat life's vicissitudes with equanimity, as the Buddha would have us do.

Life is so unbelievably cheap for the visitor here. My total daily expense yesterday was Can$ 8.50 and for that I had this simple but beautiful bamboo hut, an ample well tasting lunch with three soft drinks, absolutely delicious spicy coconut chicken soup with rice (Tom Ka Gay), a large beer, and great pineapple pancake with fruit salad and two large cups of coffee for breakfast this morning.

But as almost everywhere else in the world, it is the poor people who have preserved their human values, and it is the rich who have prostituted their minds and bodies to the acquisition of even more of the material goods and of the power over others which  almost always corrupt the mind. The backpacker tourists who visit these unspoilt places realise this and value the experience. Most of them have this once-in-a-lifetime fling, several months of travel in these far-off places, for which they have perhaps saved for years, or sacrificed a few years of their career. They will carry the memory with them into their future lives of married responsibility. But how few of them will be able to translate their experiences into an activity or profession different and more useful to society than just following a career in the pursuit of the almighty dollar or deutschmark? Or how many will be able (or willing) to disrupt their pursuit of a career to repeat this experience, and to replenish the spiritual riches gained from it, as these invariably are doomed to fade over the years? And how few will be able to even heighten these experiences by exposing themselves to this environment on a more permanent basis, be it through work, say for one of the volunteer agencies, or otherwise?
 

12 January 1990, Chiang Khan

I am unreasonably tired this afternoon after an easy 40 kilometre ride. The scenery was quite nice with low mountains all around and the Mekong River visible from the road at all times. However the grades were very easy, as the road kept very close to the river all the time.

Just shortly before I arrived here I passed by the side road to the Kang Khut Ku rapids of the Mekong. Since it was only two kilometres off to the side, I decided to visit them now rather than come out from town later. At other times this local scenic spot must be quite busy because the place was just full of eating platforms for picnickers, now mostly unused. I had a bit of fried chicken with sticky rice for lunch. This sticky rice is very popular in the Northeast. I do not particularly like it, it is glutinous and to me without any taste, somewhat gagging.

Chiang Khan town has a sort of Wild West character, full of ramshackle wooden houses. The Nong Sam guest house looks just like another one of them, but on closer inspection turned out to be one of the huge old Thai houses built entirely of massive teak timbers. It actually is quite romantic, and the whole cavernous building seems to vibrate as one mounts the stairs to get to the upper storey. There is a huge veranda overlooking the tranquil river.

This is the first time I am using the fan in the room because otherwise it would have been stuffy and hot. They say this is the coldest province of Thailand, with the temperature sometimes dropping to zero degrees during January and February. Well, this is the cold part of the year right now, but I think it is rather hotter than anywhere else I have been. I think those zero degree temperatures can only apply to the mountain tops, if that, which around here are about 1700 metres high.

Otherwise it is a sleepy town with the market and the two cinemas the only foci of activity. Perhaps I shall patronise one of the latter tonight because a bar with Thai singing there certainly is not.

This will be my third night in a backpacker frequented joint, and I am looking forward to staying in one of the local Chinese run Thai hotels again. I do not know quite how to define it, but staying together with a bunch of other backpackers, to the exclusion of Thais, feels somewhat like being in a ghetto, self imposed for sure. Everybody speaks English (or German) and there is no need to use what little Thai one knows. There are English menus and the food offered includes the backpackers staples like Muesli, vegetarian dishes and English breakfasts.

In the evenings I just love to ride slowly on my bicycle through the town. All the houses are open to the street to let in the cool evening air. One can practically glance into peoples' living rooms that way and watch people lounging on the floor around their evening meal or in front of the omnipresent colour television set. It seems that every family has one. The programs generally seem to be local ones and U.S. imports are hardly seen, which is good. However when it comes to video the American influence is overwhelming. Video shops where tapes can be rented can be found in the smallest village, and the type of tape that is sold is well beyond the control of the authorities.

Traffic in the towns at night is something else. Although some bicycles are sold with lamps, nobody ever uses them. All bicycle rickshas operate  without lights, and even some of the motorcycles. So I do not feel bad when I ride through the town without lights myself. Obviously the drivers of motor vehicles are quite aware of the many muscle powered unlighted vehicles on the road and keep their eyes well open. No accidents ever seem to occur.
 

13 January 1990, Loei

Today is National Childrens' Day. Of this I was reminded this morning when I was just ready to set out. There were the sounds of drums and marching music from the main street and people were lined up to watch the parade of the school children. I quickly got myself to the head of the parade and stationed myself to  record the happenings on video.

It was a colourful affair and my footage should be a good record of childrens' faces. One could see that the U.S. type of majorette movements were foreign to the children's normal behaviour. The movements were studiously carried out with complete seriousness but no enthusiasm. They conducted themselves exactly as they had been drilled by their teachers. However the onlookers derived a lot of enjoyment from it as the 'ohs' and 'ahs' of the women clearly showed.

After this delightful day's beginning the gradual climb into the hills of Loei did not seem like hard work. Granted I only made a net gain of some 100 odd metres, but the Mekong River is behind me now for good. I shall miss it as even now in the dry season with a fraction of its volume when in flood its swift purposeful current is impressive.

Loei seems to be a pleasant provincial town and once again I live in comparative luxury at a hotel with my own private bathroom and towels provided at 120 baht. Shortly before I arrived, and as I crested the last hill, I came upon 'Loeiland', a pleasant small resort with swimming pool and restaurant and a beautiful view of the surrounding hills. It had been mentioned in the 'guide' and other literature but there was no English sign outside. The English name had been transliterated into Thai script and my knowledge of the letters proved sufficient to recognise the place. I had a delicious spicy salad, small beer, ice cream and coffee for lunch served by the attentive and smiling, male for a change, staff.
 

14. January 1990, Pepobmay Waterfall, Phukradueng Mountain National Park

The quantity of water that falls down this miniature precipice amounts to something like half a litre per minute. Of course, this is the dry season but the main reason for the scarcity of water is the fact that almost all the water that collects on this table mountain is being used at the camp above, and there is nothing left to run down the mountain. However. there was enough water in the pool below for me to have a bath in the almost ice-cold water. Nevertheless is a very scenic and peaceful spot. No sound can be heard other than the birds and the frogs.

Last night I had decided to take a couple of days off from cycling and do a side trip by bus to this scenic spot. There is a trail which goes up the mountain and on top one can rent cottages or tents for the night. The bus to Kon Kaen took me within five kilometres of the park and a motorcycle taxi to the foot of the mountain. I was only carrying my backpack with what I considered the essentials for two days. Still it was inordinately heavy. The climb along a well defined trail was five kilometres
in horizontal distance and well over 1000 metres up vertically. The trail was indeed well marked as well as well travelled. Within sight of each other were placed a series of baskets for garbage. One just had to follow from one to the other. Almost all the users of the trail and of the park, apart from the odd white tourist, were Thai young people. They all seemed to be teenagers. but I am sure most were in their twenties. This seems to be a very popular spot for them.

However many of them must have been from rich parents as the baggage porters had lots of work. Local boys and girls were carrying heavy loads of flight bags and backpacks lashed to their bamboo poles up and down the mountain for those who had the money to pay and the inclination to spend. I, true to form, carried my own but was overtaken by a little girl who I doubt was more than ten years old carrying almost twice my load. The older boys and girls must have carried at least three times the weight of my 15 kilo backpack on those bamboo poles. A hard way to make a living, and I doubt whether they waste any time to look at the superb scenery, as they were seeing it every day.

The guide book had warned better take food up because there is none available in the park. I bought a packet of cookies and a mini bottle of rum. I need not have worried. All the way up there were stalls along the trail selling soft drinks and even food. Two thirds of the way up I stopped for a lunch of fried rice and a soft drink with ice. I thought for the price of 25 baht it was very cheap, considering everything had had to be carried up the mountain on someone’s back.

Then finally came the top. I saw the first pine tree just over a rock and then I was on the top which is as flat as a table. It is a savannah like plain covered with scattered pine trees, whereas the sides of the mountain had been teak and bamboo jungle. The camp was another 3.5 kilometres towards the centre of this table land. Here I rented one of these mini tents. The night temperature was posted at 13 degrees, so I should be quite all right with my sleeping bag. They say that sometimes the temperature goes down to zero, but today does not seem to be the day. There will be no problem with food, as there are quite a few stalls around the camp. The rum
I shall use to mix with my soft drink since beer does not seem to be available.
 

15. January 1990, Loey

As I was walking back to the camp yesterday afternoon the loudspeakers came on playing music at quite a volume. Well, I thought, if this has to be endured for several hours, then my night's rest will be rather less restful than expected. However this was just the prelude for the public playing of the national anthem at 18:00 hours for the lowering of the flag. Immediately after that the speaker was shut off and peace returned.

When I got back to the camp I discovered that, indeed, they even had beer at the food stalls. I had a big bottle with 'kao pat' (fried rice), and while I was eating found out they even had an English menu, as this was offered to the next 'faring' guests. I slept surprisingly well in my sleeping bag on the hard ground, after listening to the Thai teenagers around me sing to their guitars and in between to BBC and Deutsche Welle news on my portable radio. There is nothing unusual to report about my descent from the mountain this morning, and my return to Loey, except that I discovered that somehow I have lost my American Express credit card from the special hiding place where I had kept it. I just cannot imagine where it might have gone. I might have fallen out as I was re-arranging my bags for the trip to the park. Anyway there is nothing left but to report the loss by telephone to Bangkok and to claim a replacement when I get back there.
 

16. January 1990, Phu Rua

This is another of these places unmentioned in any literature, just a place on the map, maybe in a few years a household word such as any of the other tourist places. The landscape is quite beautiful, up in the hills at almost 1000 metres of elevation. This for me meant that I had to climb on the road some vertical 700 metres, which I accomplished in something like 5.5 hours. I had gotten up early, had a breakfast of coffee and cake at one of the stands at the bus station and when the sun rose over the low hills, I had already about seven kilometres behind me. The climb was easy and steady all along the valley of a small river, and only once I had reached its headwaters became the road steep enough so that I had to get off and push the bike.

Then just at noon I was there, at my self appointed goal for the day. The owner of the food stall where I had had breakfast had told me there was no hotel here, but that I could stay overnight at the forestry station. The sign at the entrance to the village said 'Welcome to Phu Rua' in English. This was encouraging. Then there was a sign pointing to the right saying 'Phu Rua National Park 4 km'. And there were two restaurants with English names on them. I stopped at one of them hoping for an English menu but was stymied even ordering food in my less than adequate Thai. One of the guests, a young man, then helped me in translating my wishes. From him I also found out that I could rent a room a one of the houses here. Somebody would take me after to show it to me. I had quite a hilarious lunch then. It turned out that several other of the local guests knew some English and amidst a lot of laughter a rudimentary conversation ensued.

Then I was taken to what turned out to be a small guest house, where the lady owner of a store has a couple of rooms with bath for rent at the back of her building. It is quite adequate and it will eliminate once more the need to use my tent. Tonight I am retiring early. There is absolutely nothing going on here in this small settlement. Besides I am feeling my legs. It is not the cycling but that climb up and down that mountain over the last two days which was unaccustomed, and now they are somewhat stiff.

My order for supper: 'Tom Ka Gai' was misunderstood or rather I think they tried to tell me they could not make it and I did not understand what they were proposing to give me as a substitute. It was chicken soup also but with cabbage and dumplings, not quite the same but well enough tasting. Surprisingly as soon as I sat down it started to rain, the first and only rain I have experienced here to-date, but it was only a brief shower and did not really wet the ground.
 

17. January 1990, Lom Sak

It took me only 6.5 hours to do the 96 kilometres to this small town in the dry valley in Petchabun province. The people appear to be particularly poor in this area. The ride was not exactly dry though. After I got onto the road quite early today the sun tried to be peeking through the clouds but without much success. More clouds came down from the Northwest and soon it started to rain. It was not a heavy rain but quite steady and it lasted for about an hour or so. I thanked my decision to take my light plastic rain coat with me because it came in quite handy then. Not that getting wet was so undesirable but the accompanying cold can be quite uncomfortable. As it turned out my unprotected backpack got quite wet on the surface but was dry again before I had arrived here.

I was working through the ups and downs in this beautiful mountain landscape until I reached what turned out to be the last ridge I had to cross before dropping down into the Petchabun valley. Just as I crested the last height the rain  conveniently stopped. At the top the Thai highway department had conveniently placed a sign in both languages giving the maximum height at this point to the nearest millimetre (852.134 m). Then it was downhill for practically the next 40 kilometres because I had to lose almost 800 metres of that elevation to get down to the plain.

My legs were still hurting from the unexpected strain during the climb up Phu Kradueng the other day. It became quite an effort to get them moving again, after each long sustained downhill run. But they soon limbered up once arrived on the plain where sustained pedalling was again necessary. At one point I almost lost control of the bike when I could not stop it and almost ran into a herd of water buffalo crossing the road. This was just at the beginning of my downhill run. My brakes were wet from the rain which had just stopped and did not grip at all. I was only able to stop by dragging both soles of my shoes on the soft ground of the shoulder of the road. I
tightened up my brakes at that point and had no more problems especially after the wetness also evaporated.

So far on this trip my encounters with animals have been quite peaceful. The dogs in this country are almost without exception lethargic (or well trained). Only once one made a half-hearted attempt to chase me on my bicycle. This also must be an indication of the attitude of the people, because how people behave so do their dogs. No place have I seen fiercer dogs than on Mallorca in Spain. There on could not even walk along the public sidewalk in a town without being snarled at by a ferocious German shepherd.

Traffic rules, if there are any, are only obeyed as much as convenience allows. Often one sees young girls, who cannot be more than ten years old riding a small motorcycle on a public highway. Entire families travel on one motorcycle, father, mother, and sometimes as many as three children. Teenage boys and girls will ride on a motorcycle as many as four on one bike. Very cute to look at but not necessarily very safe.

I took my usual leisurely ride through town as the sun was lowering. The bicycle gives you such freedom to do this, to ride slowly and effortlessly through the streets and to watch the people. Then I stopped at a garden restaurant at the outskirts to have my evening meal, once more a delicious 'Tom Yum Gai' (spicy and sour chicken soup) with rice and a beer and browsed through the English language Bangkok newspaper I had picked up on the way.
 

18. January 1990, 'Switzerland Resort'

I am only a short distance away from my starting point this morning, only about 30 horizontal kilometres, but it is at the top of the mountain range I had to cross towards the last main valley and the end of this bicycle trip. From now on it will be only down and then on level ground. As it was, I had climbed some 700 to 800 metres and the hunk of the 1800 metre high mountain shown on the map is just north from me. This pleasant looking restaurant and resort was just at the top and, according to my map and to the police in the little hamlet just below no hotel was to be expected before Pitsanulok some 110 kilometres away. So I decided to stop early and even after finding out the steep price for a room here. 400 baht is as much as I am ever likely going to pay in this part of the world for a room, but it is a new place and it is spotless. I suspect that part of the high price is for the second bed in the room I am not likely to use. To warrant the name of the establishment, pictures of Swiss landscapes decorate the rooms. Perhaps there is a Swiss owner involved and the price of the room reflects his higher aspirations for prosperity. It is very scenic here with an unrestricted view to the east as well as to the west.

The climb out of the valley this morning was unexpectedly steep and after the initial 15 kilometres I walked much of the remaining distance with frequent stops. Also it was hot and clear with only some wisps of cloud around the tops of the higher mountains. One of my stops was at one of the infrequent rest areas established by the highways department. Here a group of monks, who were driven somewhere in an air-conditioned minibus, had decided to take a rest and have their meal which was served by some middle aged women accompanying them. I sat down near them to take my rest. One of the women was not bad looking and I suppose must have felt similarly about me. With what little English the monks knew they soon started to make oblique references to a possible liaison between the two of us. However my
lack of Thai and their lack of the English language allowed me to escape any further entanglement.

The hills on the way up were almost denuded of perennial vegetation and appeared very dry. They could have used some of that rain I experienced the day before. All the way up there were frequent stalls where bags of what appeared to be some sort of ground nut were being sold. I had seen travellers eat them frequently, but felt no desire to purchase any of them for myself. For a cold drink or an ice cream I would gladly have stopped, but it was these nuts only that were being offered.
 

19. January 1990, Pitsanuloke

Here I am back in the hot central plain of Thailand. Behind me are the cool mountains, which divided the plains from the magic Northeast, the 'Issaan Lao'. Already I am homesick for the gentle and smiling people of that jewel of Southeast Asia. Here one senses the people are different, nice enough to be sure but they do not have the innocence of those of the Northeast.

Last night I had another nice experience. As I was walking up to the restaurant I met my room neighbours, a young Thai couple who had arrived in a small station wagon. He was in real estate on a foray to buy up some still cheap land in the mountains to open up a resort, such as we were staying at, and she was his girl friend. He spoke English fluently as he had been educated in the U.S., and I accepted his invitation to join them for supper and drinks from the bottle of Johnnie Walker whiskey he was carrying with alacrity, as it gave me the all too rare opportunity to have an intelligent talk with a Thai person. By the way it seems to be quite the common thing to bring your own liquor to a Thai restaurant and just buy the food and the mixers. One often sees people giving their bottle to the waiter on arrival for serving. The food, as usual, was delicious. Some local business men joined the table for a while, one the manager of the local bank. In exchange for free food and drinks they provided the much needed local information necessary for my host's investment plans. During the conversation I found out that this resort, today virtually empty, had been fully booked for the weekend by a government group. I guess they too know how to live at the cost of the taxpayer. Some of the typical melancholic Lao music was playing in the background. My host's companion confirmed that this area only some ten to twenty years ago had been impenetrable wilderness only inhabited by hill tribes. There were guerrillas here then, but as in the Philippines, only the military had anything to fear from them and not the ordinary traveller. He also explained to me that what I supposed were ground nuts sold at the road side were in fact the fruit of the tamarind bush. As any cook well knows, tamarind has normally a sour, astringent taste but this particular local variety is sweet and much prized by travellers as a snack.

When the time came to pay, my host insisted that I contribute nothing. He said I was far from home and I was in his country and it was his pleasure to be my host. I did not feel too bad in accepting. While to the average wage earner my portion of the bill would have amounted to over a day's wages, the upper class in Thailand, and he was a member of it, live very well indeed. The average wage earner's salary may be only one tenth of that of an average Canadian wage, but a high company executive here earns almost as much as his counterpart in the West. Otherwise one would not see so many expensive Mercedes' and BMW’s on the road. It had been getting quite cool by then and he was going to party in his room with his girl friend, while I wanted to get a good night's sleep before my early morning getaway.

The first 20 kilometres were through what only so recently had been the impenetrable jungle they had talked about last night. Now it was open hillsides much of it quite bare with the odd huge blackened tree trunk of the original tree cover sill standing. But quite a lot of the land was now replanted with small pine trees. Ever so often one came past a sign declaring the area to be a national park. The Thai government is making a concentrated effort now to save what little is left of their forests and to re-generate some of the tree cover that has been lost. A year ago a total ban had been declared countrywide against all logging and the government is now embroiled in quite a few lawsuits for financial damages with lumber firms that had held long term agreements. However, all does not go as planned. There was a story in the papers the other day where local people were protesting against the wife of a member of parliament being given a contract for the commercial use of a tract of forest near Chiang Mai. The leader of the protest had later been shot dead in front of his house by local thugs, who admitted later of being in the pay of some minor local officials, which no doubt were in cahoots with the local member of the legislature.

A conference of Southeast Asian foresters recently came to the conclusion that their policy had been wrong for many years, crafted as it was by the colonial powers who insisted that the forests should 'supply a sustainable yield' of lumber the same as in cooler climates. Only now are officials realising that the forests had been used since ancient times by the indigenous peoples living in and around them in many different other ways, and that by clear cutting the forests after the American manner, the way of life of these indigenous people was seriously harmed. The yield of these other uses as measured in monetary terms was in most cases considerably higher than the yield of the lumber, especially after some foreign multinational had taken off its profits at the top. Again, here is an object lesson as to how a country can sell its heritage of natural resources for the biblical 'meal of lentils' to generate some quick income of foreign exchange to service its foreign debt accrued earlier during headier times.

Fortunately I had to give up the hard earned altitude only in measured instalments as the road carried me through much of this erstwhile forest wilderness. Later I was following the Wang Thong river as it wound its way torturously down to the plain. Often there were rapids and at each there was some kind of resort, many of them offering cabins or tenting places apart from meals and drinks. I need not have worried about finding accommodation before reaching Pitsanuloke.

This is a big and bustling town, quite a change from yesterday's peace and solitude. I am almost thinking it was worth paying over four times as much for the room there than for this simple and hot room in one of the local hotels. Granted the basic conveniences are here, fan and private shower and toilet, but the room is not the cleanest, and one has to beware of the ants coming out of a hole at the bottom of one of the walls. Tomorrow I shall splurge a bit more when I get to Sukkothai and stay at the 'River Hotel' mentioned in the guide book, if it is still there.
 

20. January 1990, Sukothai

It seems that when I have no reason to be tired I sleep the deepest on my afternoon nap. Today I slept deeply for a full three hours and even overslept the alarm I had set on my pocket computer to wake me that the charging of the battery for my video was complete. But then I had a full bottle (large) of Singha beer for lunch and there is no telling what happens then.

This morning's ride was entirely through the perfectly level central plain. Surprisingly some of the country was green with freshly sprouting rice. From somewhere they must be getting irrigation water, because it is the middle of the dry season and the fields are supposed to be dry and dead for at least another four months. My ride was accentuated by two events. At my second rest stop I had another flat tire. It was just another slow leak and I could have survived by re-pumping the air every ten kilometres or so. But I was at a proper government rest area and it was just as convenient to change the tube. In doing this I was watched by some local boys and an older man who appeared out of the bushes from one of the houses nearby.

The other event was altogether more pleasant. I had stopped at one of these garden restaurants by the roadside for a coke, and one by one the girls of
the house came out to inspect with evident interest the 'farang' who had so unexpectedly dropped by. It was a pleasant experience so I ordered another, just to sit there a little longer. I was promptly rewarded by one of them who overcame her reserve and planted a big kiss on my cheek. This is the kind of experience that will gladden any man's heart and so buoyed in spirits I had no problems carrying on the last 20 kilometres of my trip. It also seemed a particularly fitting reward for my bicycle trip which is now at an end. Now all that is left after travelling 1400 kilometres through the back roads of Thailand is to find a buyer for the bike and tomorrow to tour the historical site here.
 

21. January 1990, Pitsanuloke

Last night I went to what seemed to be the only bar in town with Thai singing. Earlier I had had supper in one of the 'cafes', this one was made up like an old English style country inn all with old artefacts and solid wood last century furniture. The whole atmosphere was that of a mix of  'Ye olde England' and 'Ye olde Siam'. There were pictures of English hunting scenes and pictures of old Thai noble families. Massive teak beams and mammoth wood carvings overhung the cosily made up booths and tables. Rather pleasant I must say although somewhat incongruous. The food was excellent. It was obviously the place for local 'society' to go to and to be seen.

The bar was in the biggest hotel in this town. Here the singing was very much of the older style which I love so much. The singing of some of the girls was exquisite although not quite reaching the quality I had experienced once in Chiang Mia some years earlier. I tarried for three hours and then walked home to my hotel at around midnight.

This morning it was overcast and actually it did rain a bit. The bus information was not encouraging as almost all of the buses to Bangkok did not carry a roof rack so that I could take my bicycle, which I had found difficult to sell here. I decided then to return via Pitsanuloke as the buses over that short distance carried roof racks and then I could get onto the train to Bangkok.

I then spent the rest of the morning to ride the 12 kilometres out to the old city of Sukothai. The ruins there of the temples and other buildings do not really amount to much. Everything had originally (around 1300 AD) been built of brick and all the sculptures had been crafted in some sort of mortar facing over the bricks. A considerable amount of the brickwork remains, but most of the mortar work has disintegrated. The grounds are kept very nice and many of the stupas and building columns are still standing or have been restored. It looks nice and peaceful and has a certain distinctive homely style but certainly lacks the grandeur and massive permanence of a Borobodur or Angkor Wat.

I did not tarry long, and by noon I was back at the new town for lunch and a shower. Now in midafternoon I am back in Pitsanuloke ready for the morning train to Bangkok.
 

22. January 1990, On the train to Bangkok

This is more like the train travel I remember in Thailand. I am sitting in relative comfort in an almost empty second class car. Ticket buying less than half an hour before departure time and the formalities with the bike were quickly and pleasantly absolved. I had feared I might be exposed to the same crush as when travelling on my outward journey when I had decided to take to public transportation on the day before the New Year (western) holiday. Today is the beginning of the week of the Chinese New Year. But this seems to be of no consequence. Only the last day, a Saturday, is a legal holiday in Thailand and the Thais in general do not seem to celebrate the Lunar New Year to the same extent as the western one. The train, coming from Chiang Mai, arrived right on time, two minutes early in fact, and left
on the dot. It is one of about eight trains running on this route every day.

I was stuck taking the slow train as the timing of the rapid train did not fit my plans. As it is it takes only a couple of hours longer. There are also at least two daily departures of the 'diesel rail car', a short fast train which sports pretty hostesses in red dresses reminiscent of airline service. However there are no baggage services on these rail cars which would have accommodated my bicycle.

For the early part of last night I went to 'Bibi's pub, the local hangout of all the foreigners. These are mostly Americans busy on the building of the sizeable liquid natural gas plant nearby. Apparently there are significant oil and gas resources being found in this area. Bibi's clientele also includes the odd tourist and Western businessman involved in some local joint venture. It was pleasant enough to be able to chat again with somebody where one understood what was being said and visa versa. However I had to wait an inordinately long time for my food and it was not quite up to the normal quality. The reason: They were really only set up to serve western food and did not have all the proper ingredients for the Thai kind. And then when I saw the other customers around me starting to munch away on steak, French
fries and salad with salad dressing from the made in the USA bottle, and guzzling away at their Canadian Club I suddenly felt I had enough of that environment, paid my bill and took to the street. It surpasses my understanding when in a country with the most delicious food in the world one insists on something as drab as steak and French fries day after day. 'The best steak in town' one of the Americans tried to tell me. I answered, I am quite content to wait for my steak to when I return to North America, if I ever do.'

Just moments ago I spent a delightful hour in the 'restaurant car’ of the train. Had a lunch of fried rice (standard train issue but well tasting), spicy sausage salad and a beer. While sitting there I could not help to compare the German railway system (the ultimate in efficiency) with the Thai one. Trains here run just as efficiently, it seems to me, as in Europe. There is only a single line track, and it is fully made use of. I am on the slow train which stops at every station and ever so often we let other trains by in both directions, freight and passenger. The schedule seems to be finely worked out so that there is hardly more than a few minutes to wait for the other train to appear. Meanwhile everything is carried out in a laid back nonchalant manner. No signs here as in Germany like 'The crossing of the tracks is forbidden!'. Everybody crosses freely, people, dogs and school children as need dictates. And still the trains run unhindered. The same atmosphere in the restaurant car where the waitresses sit down with the customers and jokingly pass their time if there is nothing else to do for the moment. And everything is accompanied by that easy smile, this light-hearted joke, as if life was just a lark. And indeed it is if one chooses to make it such. It is a matter of attitude, and attitudes are formed by the historical and mental background from which people have come. When will people in the 'civilised' West learn that lesson and break away from some of their inbred religious attitudes that suffering and misery are an integral part of life only to be overcome after the release from the earthly travail.

 Continued..