Memory Part 2

As for reasons to all this there are plenty offered, several of which I will outline, but I find them all lacking a certain ability to explain the situation to its utmost. This is especially in light of the way other people's in the world have dealt with such issues.

1. in Cambodia or Vietnam an enormous part of the population was born post-1975 and in the case of Cambodia even later. This allows for history to have directly escaped the experience of well over 50% of the population. The hard felt memories simply are not present in the people therefore anger or resentment is much less readily felt. This takes an interesting twist in a place like Laos where there was never even a declaration of bombing occurring. Cambodia at least got that much.

2. American cultural/economic hegemony (ah that favorite word) is such a powerful influence felt across the world. Due to such hegemony many of the populations that would otherwise be critical are undercut on multiple fronts. Younger generations look to the west and particularly America with adoration. They want to copy whatever it is that is happening in those parts of the world. Whether it be fashion, food, lifestyle etc. This isn't to say that wanting a McDonald's on every corner is the wish of every 15 year old. Far from it, I bet there is some serious questioning going on on that regard. However, it happens. Mtv is broadcast around the known world, everyone in China knows who Kobe is and a whole litany of other things egregious or not. In addition to cultural hegemony the economic pressures coming out of the west are manifold. Liberalize the economy, embrace unbridled capitalism, god as mammon and the like. Those pressures certainly run as deep as the cultural ones.

3. More like a 2b. but the governments of many of these countries (Vietnam, Peru, El Salvador, The Philippines) are under tremendous pressure to fall in line with countries like the US in order to reap economic benefits that are hung like carrots in front of these countries. They us the examples of South Korea and Japan as evidence that they too can have the wealth that east Asia possesses. This, however, is more outside my realm. Read some Naomi Klein etc. if you want to get a better picture insight into these issues. But there is also lots of political pressure on the parts of places such as the US to have a place such as Vietnam not make a big deal out of the American War for fear of a cooling of relations, which most countries cannot bear to deal with in this day and age.

4. Cultural capacities that I just don't understand coming from a country that has never really had to hold much resentment...

5. A huge reliance on tourism that would prevent public sentiment being too outrageous.

Now, I am sure there are a multitude of additional reasons why such places are constrained against resentment and a ask that you include any thoughts you may have in the comments. It would be great in order to better understand. As for me, I still come back to the unique differences between the Asians of the far East and those of South East Asia. Both have had experiences of brutality at the hands of an Imperial (in the traditional or more post-colonial sense of the word) powers. But in the case of Korea or China as my friend Mike pointed out in the comments, there seems to be an overwhelming resentment that continues to this day. I experienced so little of that in Laos or Vietnam or Philippines. As I pointed out in #5 this would be the most believable reason why I would not experience the anger toward me as an American. Whereas Korea is prosperous enough and does not rely on tourism to fuel its economy they can harbor whatever feelings they want about anyone, Japan included, Vietnamese or Cambodians have no such luxury.

Understandably this is rambling and I began this whole discussion by saying I need to be at home where I can do some serious research into the subject. But it is food for thought so to speak


I am in Manila, Philippines right now. After losing in the finals of Manila Spirits to team Philippines I went south to the island paradise (apt description for this place) of Boracay to spend a week on beaches most likely with a significant content of cocaine and water that is made of liquid jade. There was much drinking and rejoicing. Yaaaay. I would be writing this from Bangkok, but if you have kept up with the political tensions there that was not possible. So, plans have been made. Head to northern Luzon for a few days, then depart Manila for my second time to Saigon (Ho Chi Minh city for those of you who want to find flights there).

Memory Part 1

This has much less to do with any memories I created and only tangentially to do with my own travels. Instead, as I have traveled through so many countries that have experienced the long arm of colonialism, imperialism (both militarily and economically), large scale violence and isolation by the west a question that seems to return to me is; where is the resentment? This was a pressing question that I had as an American entering Vietnam last year and a similar one was turning around in my head as I traveled through Laos. I imagine I will question this when I am in the Philippines where American "advisors" still struggle with Islamic separatist movements and in Cambodia where Richard Nixon waged the sideshow as the US was supposedly cooling down in Vietnam. However, no doubt you have read your history and if not it is pretty easy to bone up a bit.

What I want to discuss however, is not the history itself, but the aftermath of those historical events. My mind has been especially colored by the rich cultural and historical perils that Korea is fraught with in re its neighbors and especially Japan. This comparison or questions about the differences in cultures even within Asia will return later. For now though

Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia especially experienced some of the most horrific and many times un-reported treatment from the US. In the US at least it is a little known fact that Laos has the dubious honor of being the most bombed country in the history of warfare. Something like 500,000 pieces of ordnance were dropped on the country, destroying whol villages, eradicating any infrastructure that existed. Essentially what people would popularly term bombing them back to the stone age. A pleasant concept indeed. The history of Vietnam is far more transparent to the west and especially Americans, but is no less tragic. Napalm, agent orange, carpet bombing etc. followed by years of economic isolation by the American government.

Yet, through all this I have found little resentment, or even dwelling on the issue. I was able to talk very frankly with a Laotion in Vientiane who recalls quite clearly the struggle between tribes armed by the CIA, the Pathet Lao and the ordinary people caught in between. He talked about the tremendous bombing campaigns, political killings, insurgency. Yet, with full knowledge of who was responsible for this, and with the full knowledge that he was discussing it with an American, my nationality did not figure into it at all. There was no accusations, no resentment. Nothing that would resemble the anger that I would think would be there. When I was in Vietnam last year I was very concerned (despite people telling me to the contrary that it would be fine) that my Americaness would have some sort of negative impact on my travels. This was never the case.

Allow me to contrast this with the great tragedy that struck China and Korea at the hands of Japanese colonialism in the early 20th century. The Rape of Nanking certainly stands out, but no less problematic was the comfort women of Korea, the puppet state of Manchukuo, or the wide scale cultural rape that occured at the hands of the Japanese (as an aside I am not writing this to place blame or demonize Japan etc. merely exploring the historical relevance of the situations. Japan must face these problems as a nation which they have overwhelmingly failed to do so at this point, but again become relevant later in re:the US). In Korea, certainly, there are widely held beliefs that the Japanese are not to be trusted, that they would do again the things that they perpetrated in the 20th century (I find that very unlikely), and seemingly small matters like the Liancourt Rocks can get Koreans flying off the wall about how terrible the Japanese are as a race. That they can never be forgiven for the things they did. This is not even endemic among merely the old. I have met many young Koreans who have similar feelings.

I cannot speak with much accuracy to much of the rest of the world (this will have to wait for when I can do proper research in a few months) but I have no doubt that the issues surrounding Algeria and France, Armenia and Turkey, former Yugoslav countries, any host of Latin American countries, etc. there are similar problems or lack there of in re: SE Asia. What I will attempt to do in my next entry is to offer some possible answers to why the cultures of SE Asia have distinguished themselves as not having allowed themselves to dwell on that past. A heady task indeed.

From the North

I have been quite reticent in my writing recently. Excuses being numerous, but the one I am going to pick is hellishly long bus rides, followed closely by cheap bottles of what might not pass for whiskey in many parts of the world... I digress.

Travels have taken us from the quiet colonial streets of Vientiane to the quite colonial streets of Luang Prabang and now to the noticeably busier streets of Chiang Mai, Thailand. The journey through northern Laos was truly epic. The buses were an adventure I would recommend only for those that have no love of their fillings or their temporary sanity. But it was amusing nonetheless. The ride from Vientiane north was not so bad, just quite windy as we got into the mountains. It was not easy to sit without being tossed from side to side. I am positive I experienced g-force in some of the turns.

Luang Prabang was a charmer to say the least. The kind of place UNESCO certainly creams over. Monks with umbrellas. Old French buildings. The bends of two rivers to laze by. A quaint night market. Karst topography. The list of sort of superlatives could go on and on. It was a nice place to while away a few days and was certainly similar to my visit to Hoi An in central Viet Nam. The place was probably a little too quaint for my tastes. Something I am sure I would like to go back to when I am older. Kinda the pace and outfitted for the middle aged, more moneyed crowd oh holiday. However, it did give me a nice glimpse into Northern Laos and I am certain I will make it a point to visit the region again. Probably devote a whole month to the north if possible. I think I am merely in love with the idea of the Mekong region. Inspires some sort of romance. I am sure Edward Said is now turning in his grave. This could easily bog down in a digression about "authenticity" again, but I will resist the urge.

The bus ride from Luang Prabang to the Huay Xai/Chiang Khong border was possibly the most amazing thing ever. I was never really aware of how important a proper infrastructure is to a country's development. Precious me living in a nice place like the US where my family makes the conscious choice to own a house accessed by a road that washes out all the time. Not so for those living in Northern Laos. The choice is not a choice at all. Your roads will suck. There were long stretches of road where I was unable to hold a coherent thought in my head because the potholes were so numerous. That coupled with the obvious lack of suspension in the bus. Also, I ate cat. Didn't mean to, but I pulled a full cat's foot out of my mouth. Still had its pads and half retracted claw. Don't ask.

I will spare you any more details of what was basically a lot of monotony from the border to Chiang Mai. I am now in Chiang Mai soaking up the northern culture. It is a great change of pace from the seething mass of Bangkok. Wats. Monks. Tuk-tuks. But all with some nice seasonal flavor. Showed up on the last day of Loi Krathong so it was almost too good to be true to get to a bus station, after dark, full moon, hop on the back of a motorcycle and look up to see constellations of lanterns ascending into the night sky.

I have a lot of more detailed things I want to discuss, but I will leave that for later. Of a side-note those of you wanting more pictures will have to wait. I dropped my digital camera in a stream in Laos. As you might imagine that was not good for it. I don't think it works, but I will investigate that further when I get less lazy. I have my film camera so that will more than do for now. Just be patient.

Laos and intimations on mortality (from abroad)

Apologies to Wordsworth for the gross bastardization of his title, but it somewhat fit the spot. I will get to the second part of the title presently, but to begin with I am now in Vientiane, the quaint and charming capital of Laos. The shock of being here after departing from the North East bus station of Bangkok alone is enough to send you reeling. Chickens on the streets. Unpaved roads. Three currencies. 2300 curfew! Quite the difference from the up-all-nightness of Asia that I am used to. However, I will say that I could easily get used to this life. Perhaps it is the slow creep of age talking, but going to bed early. Up with the sun. Nothing more sophisticated or hectic than a Beer Lao while the sun goes down over the Mekong. Surely Graham Greene has already written about this somewhere.--side note Beer Lao is truly the king of Asian macro-lagers. There is actual flavor that appears in a quaff--Vientiane gives me the same feeling (in part) that being on the Gilis provided. It would be easy to stay here for a long time. Indeed I have met plenty of people who seem like that is their plan. But unlike the Gilis, which seemed rooted in escapism and hedonism, Vientiane seems rooted much more firmly in the daily rhythm of life. Indeed a more suitable feeling for someone with my aspirations (or lack there of) and tastes.

I suppose that is enough of an endorsement of Vientiane. And, while I haven't been elsewhere yet, I imagine most of Laos will exude a similar vibe. A place where I can concentrate on my reading (I have made it further through Gravity's Rainbow than my father), the wonderful scenery. Colonial architecture, which I love. Have nice chats with robe-clad monks who masquerade as English teachers etc. Good. I am sure the tourist board of Laos will mail me my check soon enough...

As for the explanation and subsequent disection of the latter half of the title: a high school friend of mine died suddenly of a heart attack en route to Bogota earlier this week. This is not meant to be a pity party or anything of the like. To come clean up front I did not even know him very well. A very nice guy. Friends with some of my good friends and the like. But, especially coming from a boarding school, people are all so connected and the community so small that something like this surely reverberates quite noticably among my friends.

However, that is not the angle I am going to take for this ponder. More this throws into light a very interesting aspect of the life that I have since chosen for myself. I cannot even come close to claiming that were I living in the states this event would have changed at all etc. What it places in relief for me is that there is a certain level of consciously chosen disconnect I have allowed into my life. Funerals aside there are plenty more events in life that I have relegated almost to a past life. Weddings also spring to mind. I have neither the time nor the money to up and head home and as I approach my late 20s no doubt such a temptation will occur far more frequently. Even more basic than that I have not seen my family for almost 20 months. An amazing feat considering I probably went at the longest span 2.5 months in the first 24 years of my life without being with my parents or my brother. Does this mean they are no longer important? I would venture, with great certainty, no. That is not the case. I suppose in my mind I have made a choice to explore something different at the expense of certain things. Sometimes this expense can be great or sometimes quite trivial (drinking a Smuttynose IPA springs to mind as a trivial matter). But this is my choice. Probably the most American of my traits. No doubt fierce individualism will take more than a generation to breed out, if indeed that is what I or anyone else wants to do. But it remains a fact. My life. My choices. This indeed is not the same as some of my friends. I make no claims to know their motivations. Be it filial loyalty. A sense of social obligation. A need to return to familiar (not that the familiar can't be found almost anywhere in the world).

To be sure, and this should not be understated, it is with great sadness always that the news of the loss of life should be accepted. Whether it be from close or from far. A person close to you or distant (although it is more difficult to mourn directly those you did not know). It should also be accepted with thoughtfulness. And I think more so that than sadness. Grief, for those who the loss was not the greatest, serves no purpose as to the memory of those loss. Rather, for me, it seems a time to reflect. To observe. To be immensely thankful for what you have. To make sure that when that time comes and like it or not it will eventually come for us all, that you are pleased with the life you have led. I cannot be 8,000 miles away for any number of things. Nor would I make the claim that I would want to for many things. But perhaps it is enough to state for the record that these events do not still touch me halfway around the world. Just the opposite they give me ever more reason to pause and reflect.

To end I will provide some seemingly fitting lines from William Wordsworth's poem Intimations of Immortality From Recollections of Early Childhood

We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind

Bangkok

I remember when I was younger kids used to play that idiotic joke where they would ask you what the capital of Thailand was, and unless you were savvy or had heard the joke before, the result was always Bangkok! to the tune of some O'Doyle-like clown putting his knee into your groin. The height of hilarity, really. For the longest time I wasn't even convinced that the capital of Thailand, which I could have located on a map only after some difficulty (my South East Asia geography was always dominated by Vietnam as I am sure were many children of baby boomers), could actually coincide with such a dumb and relatively cruel joke. True enough though the Thais seemed to have such a capital. As I grew older Bangkok took on a much different quality in my imagination. One dominated by things like sex-tourism*, modern slavery, gateway to paradise, a place who's seedy underbelly was actually on display.

By the time I left university Bangkok, and indeed Thailand were, in my mind, the tourist destinations of SE Asia. You could hear people talk about their graduation gift of round the world tickets etc. replete with a lengthy hold-over in Thailand. When I arrived in Korea, talk such as this intensified. Flights there are cheap. So much to do. The food is amazing. At this point I was of two minds; 1. I have to see it to believe it 2. it probably fuels my worst nightmare about what tourism is therefore I will also want to escape it as soon as possible.

Well, I'm here. I think that perhaps my vision was colored too much by certain cultural references that are fiction. It can be tough to seperate the two. Bangkok is a fascinating place though. Perhaps I am seeing a slightly different persepctive because I am not staying on Th Khao San. If I were there perhaps I would hate my fellow man more (though I doubt that would be the case) and see a very different picture of Bangkok and a very different introduction of Thailand in general. In any event I am staying in Bangrak in the south part of the city with my friend Aeoy, who has been an amazing host.

I will take the rest of this entry to merely run down the things I have found so far. More intellectual musings can remain for another day. The food is great. Having a Thai friend who knows the city really well helps. I have been to a number of places I just never would have found without her help. Every meal I have had has been great. If you want descriptions I am sure I could not do it justice. American Thai food is a decent rendition of a very small percentage of Thai food. The flavors are on the whole light, quite spicy and suprisingly refreshing. Most food doesn't reinvigorate me so that is a pleasant surprise. The city itself is cool. Sprawling, seething, charged full of energy. It certainly doesn't sleep much. With the advent of a rapid transit system# it is sure to get even better and definitely more travel friendly for those of us beholden to public transport (read: those who still don't have their licenses). The sites are quite nice too. The river is beautiful at night and taking a river taxi is a great way to see the city. The Wats are all über ornate, saffron colored monks are a nice photo piece, the malls are nuts, the new city art gallery was quite nice (Guggenheim-esque). Basically good times are had. I have plenty more to say, but I think I will leave as is for now. Gotta pack up before we head to Nong Khai and then to Laos.


*more on this in a future entry
#I want to write a coffee table book on metros/subways/whatever you call them

Malaysia, truly Asia?

If by truly Asia, you mean boring and dour. At least that is what Kuala Lumpur struck me as. I believe I had my first wow I'm in Delaware moment. KL sucked:

pros: food. it is simply amazing. I'd like to see Singapore and KL slug it out in kitchen stadium over the right to say who has better food from the Malay, Straits Chinese and Indian categories.

cons: just about everything else. Cab drivers are jerks. No one smiles (probably because they are all gritting their teeth at their maker for the cruel joke being played on them by habitating KL). It is impossible to walk anywhere. Sidewalks disappear. Enormous boulevards makes crossing streets life-threatening. Beer is absurdly expensive (yeah yeah I know it is a Muslim country, but I still count it as a fault). The best way I think I could describe Kuala Lumpur is through the following anecdote;

Trevor and I finally found a place that served decent beer and was somewhate welcoming. It was a German run bar and we sat and watched a football match and hoped to soak ourselves enough to get to the next day without jumping in front of traffic. A eldery Scotsman wandered over to see the score. We got to talking. He informed us that after a number of years living abroad (Paris, Düsseldorf, Munich, Amsterdam, Kuching) he ended up retiring to KL. We asked him why? His reply, simply "bad luck." He had been in KL for 10 years and looked like he was one scotch away from ODing on sleeping pills and ending it all. Scots are not the most cheery bunch, but this guy had the air about him that life had finally beaten him using the city to do it. Majorly depressing.

Penang. A much better location. Still with that distinct aftertaste of "damn, I'm still in Malaysia" but a huge step up. The old city has retained much of its charm and the food yet again is great. But everything was still underwhelming. It was even the Diwali festival when we arrived and no one seemed to be doing anything. I did however get a nice film camera (lens included for less than $100 so hooray for that).

As a nice little personal story, after a long day, made longer by the agonizingly hot sun beer was in order. Lots of it. If you ever get the chance to drink Skol super beer a warning. It is super. Super potent. Anyway, Trevor and I were wandering back streets looking for something not too pricey and out of the way. Ta-dah! Place that advertised the aforementioned beer at a great price. All locals. Seemed good enough. Sat down outside and started ordering up beers. 2 bottles in I started to get the feeling this was something of a special establishment (the word motel in the sign should have tipped me off more quickly). I sounded this idea outloud. Agreement. Like clockword, mostly Indian men would stop look in quickly, if they liked whatever it was they saw in they would pop for 15 minutes or so. Yeah. Brothel. Good times. We chatted with this guy who described why Malaysians like marijuana so much (it has to do with being able to eat rice easier, taking showers, and laughing at other people). He then confirmed that indeed the place was a whore house. I actually had a nice little chat with several of the ladies-of-the-evening when I was inside using the bathroom. They were all quite nice and one even proposed to me. All in all it was a highly amusing night. Too many beers later it was off to get night market fare and wallow in the sultry evening of Georgetown.