Thailand, Saturday, 15th of Jan 2000.

Time? After leaving the hotel this morning, at about 10:30, I have wandered the streets and in the process lost track of time.

I didn't quite wander aimlessly, I had my objectives, primarily to book a train ticket out of the capital. In the process, I've arranged a night's stay in a luxury hotel at my destination, Nong Khai.

I could have taken my travel clock with me, but I deliberately didn't. Worry about the time, measuring the hours and minutes to the next class, have left me pro-occupied with the time. It's a fourth dimension that has but an unwelcome edge to my life.

After the travel agency at the train station, a place I let them guide me to the easiest choices, I made my way toward Ko Shan Road. Ko Shan Road seems to me to be the Mecca of the budget traveler. Not being a good traveler, I lost my way there and took a rather tortuous route through China town.

The fist time I corrected my errant path was soon after leaving the train station. I had ended up walking beside an old Thai gent, who in passing commented the traffic was bad. Politeness and congeniality led to a conversation about Bangkok and Chiang Mai, places the gent had lived for a long time. The later was his childhood and present residence. I said I had visited Chiang Mai on a previous visit to Thailand and then he chanced to ask where I was going. I didn£¾|t think he would know Ko Shan Road, so I point at the Democratic Monument, a nearby landmark, on my complimentary tourist map. He quickly corrected my mistake and showed me I was ninety degrees off course. I retraced my steps back to the train station and tried to set off in approximately the right direction.

Back on my new course I wandered along not unhappy for the wasted time and effort. As I walked, I noted the shops on my route. The shops were mostly specialized in their stock. Some sold plastic bags by the bundle, some locks and doorknobs, some metal stock of a variety of sizes. Some thick metal springs the height of children, etc. I wondered at who their clients were. Possible some huge engineering firm would suddenly say, "Hey we need two three-foot diameter gears. Send someone down to the corner shop to pick up a pair."

I have always understood that commerce congregates at the point of need. You don't find many ships' chandlers at motorway junctions, but rather at quays and ports. But here plastic bag shops were all next to each other in a place where there was not an ever-present and discernable need for plastic bags. I suppose like medieval cities, I had just happened onto Plastic Bag Road. If you needed a plastic bag, then that was the spot. Ko Shan Road was exactly the same. If you are a traveler then that was the place.

Ko Shan road is barely two hundred meters long and is jam packed with hostels, bars, restaurants, currency exchange bureaus, cyber cafes, clothes shops (Black market designer label merchandise and the ethnic stuff favored by students and the hip travelers,) and stalls dedicated to music, hair-braiding and forged student ID's.

Ko Shan road is the place for the cool and the painfully un-hip (That includes me.) And for Asia it is the hub of the traveler community. Often the first, last and possible only destination of those 'Taking a year out.' It's a place to sit out, drink cheap(ish) beer and watch an endless stream of movies (Some straight from release to Black market copy.) The place takes all the hard work out of 'World Travel,' something that frightened me from 'Taking a year out.' People just sit here drink, watch movies, spend, drink, watch movies, pawn designer clothes, drink, watch movies, pawn backpack (Not going anywhere,) drink, watch movies, pawn airline ticket, etc.

Some of course escape and do travel. You see then hauling two backpacks and a Lonely Planet Guide. They haggle over the smallest amount of money, refuse to use public transport because they can save the small change by walking, then at their grimy hostel, piss their money up the wall with a couple of £¾?Well deserved beers.£¾|

As you might guess I am not mentally adjusted to their life style, and of course, I don't have their fashion sense.

For the moment I feel I have written enough and deserve two hours of Thai massage. Maybe later, I will pen more.

Sunday, 16th Jan 2000.

It's about ten in the morning and I have just finished my breakfast, a lazy affair spent drinking too much coffee and eating toast. The restaurant was not crowded and had a sprinkling of Thai, mostly female, but apart from one, they were not 'Ladies of the night.' With so many foreigners here who have live here permanently, it is not uncommon for then to have Thai wives or longtime girlfriends. Some have maids for the children. But when there is a large age disparity and just the couple by themselves it seems more obvious.

Since I don't have to check out until noon and my sleeper doesn't leave the station until eight in the evening, I am going to be as lazy as I can. I will sit by the pool, write and read. After checking out, I'll take the bus to Siam Square where I will check out the local Starbucks. If the coffee beans are cheap, I will get some before my return to Taiwan. I will try to catch a movie; the theaters here are cheaper and cleaner than Taiwan. Then another bus to the station, where I can leave my backpack at the travel agency. From there to Ko Shan Road, where I will eat, drink some beer and get an hour-long foot massage. Then it will be time for the station and my train.

Somehow though, even with the ease of the next two days, the train tonight and being picked up in the morning to go to a high-class hotel for the night, I am still edgy. Is it my pre-occupation with time? Too much coffee? Worry about what will happen in Laos? Or all together? Possibly, I feel it will be a big disappointment, or I will not make the most of it. When I traveled in the States and China, I whizzed from city to city, desperate to see as much as I could, and I did, I saw a lot of trains, buses and their stations. That£¾|s not completely true, but I always seemed on the move.

I also worry about money. Not saving it, but having it. Brad Pitt said in 'Fight Club,' "Possessions, posses you." He was right but money seems to be my umbilical cord to life. If I lose it what will happen? It is another of my worries.

I have tried to be adventurous. A Eurorail trip (I cut that one short because of loneliness,) three successive Greyhound bus trips around North America, five weeks in China (I was not quite Brad Pitt and 'Seven years in Tibet,') and teaching in Taiwan. I know I am better for them all, but they were always trials of mental endurance, not trails of excitement.

Writing I hope will help me. It will eat up the time and record some of my experiences. Maybe by writing I will not discount the true value of travel, which is to experience. I will but down on paper the small details that occur around me. Such as the two well dressed men; slacks, shirts and ties, sat next to the pool. One takes a photo, and I am in the frame writing. An old man sits in a corner; T-shirt, shorts and gray socks. He's is chain-smoking cigars and was in the same spot yesterday. Behind me, a man in shorts has his breakfast of toast, beer and a cigarette, as he reads. All around me are the things to view along with the magnificence of nature and the grandeur of architecture.

Maybe on this journey, I will try to pay more attention to the details than score points on the 'Been there,' game I have played in the past with my family.

Writing is fun, time consuming (Its ten-fifty,) and cleansing. A young boy is playing near my table. Absorbed with a water lily that grows in a large jar. He makes shooting sounds, staccato like, and with his fingers drops water on the waxy leaves of he plant, beading them and then tipping the leaves so the beads collide.

The man behind has ordered another beer. The waiter walks by me smiling, the bottle and a glass on a tray. I contemplate having one myself, but it is a little too early for me, and I have already focused my mind on a coffee at Starbucks. Marrion, the future better half, hates my focused attention to plans and would prefer me to make changes. But plans to me are like a bone in a dog's mouth, I hate to let go. When I travel, I of course make a myriad of 'On the moment' decisions, but when I travel I don£¾|t often make too many plans.

I remember I infuriated Russ when I visited him and Ann, a distant cousin, in Saskatoon. He asked me when my bus was leaving town. I said I did not know, and if he left me at the station, I£¾|d just get the most convenient one.

I remember a shocked friend of my Dad's, Jack Spencer, in Washington D.C., when I visited him at the U.S. Coast Guard Central Offices. Not only had I walked from the Mall to his office building, though a black project area, but also I planned to take a bus 'South to Atlantic City.' Startled he told me, Atlantic City was to the north. "Oh well," I said, "I'll just take the bus south."

Time to take a break. In half an hour I'll pack up, pay my bill and check out.

It's five in the afternoon, I have just left a theater in the World Trade Center at Siam Square. I saw the 'Bone Collector,' and I was unimpressed. It was predictable, but I must credit the fianc?for one of her astute observations about suspense movies. It was the observation that the bad guy is usually someone from the start of the movie who plays a small role. So, I had already narrowed the suspects down to the doctor or the med tech. I was right and villain was killed during his attempt to kill the hero. All the good people ended up happy, puke! All the victims died with notable exception of the little girl, another American movie quirk that I hate.

Before the movie, I talked briefly with a couple of travelers. They were 'Passing through,' traveler talk to show they were different to tourists. Tourists just visit, they don't 'Pass through.' They had been to Laos, I said I was on my way, I said I was 'Visiting,' that marked me out as a tourist. I gave them time to come to that conclusion. I continued, I was visiting from Taiwan, which is expiate tourist talk, chalk one up to David. Travelers pass by, while expiates live. The doors of the theater opened at that stage, so we bid are farewells. That was my second encounter of the day.

My first encounter of the day was at Starbucks. I had the shops copy of the day£¾|s paper. I lad was sitting next to me reading the cartoon section, 'Funnies,' I think the Americans call it. I only wanted to check the footie, the Gunners beat Sunderland 4-1, so I asked if he wanted the paper or I would return it to the rack, it started a conversation.

The conversation started on the subject of if I lived in Thailand or was just visiting. After the intro, I found out he was an American living in Bangkok as a teacher. He looked younger than I did and, from his talk, he had done a stint in the army. Been to Bosnia before full U.S. deployment, I don't think it was BS, but some people might try it. I once met a man at a Patpong bar, outside in a street bar that is not one of the gogo ones, said he had worked for Air America without knowing it was CIA. Anyway Terry and I, I have his name card, swapped teacher talk. To me it seemed Bangkok was a good gig. I told him Taiwan was good if you could stand the hassle.

Back to the movie theater. After leaving, disappointed, I used the escalator. The theater was on the seventh floor. I found the place, a multistory mall, reminiscent of my Greyhound days. During those times, Malls were the service centers of my vacations, rest stop, food and beverage stop, and of course, pit stop. I have stared at a thousand bathroom tiles and can't remember any, apart form the Lucky Horseshoe Casino in Las Vegas which were black and their was gold edging, they were distinctive. I have always gravitated to malls, not because I want to buy anything, but to satisfy my bodily needs.

Going down the escalator, I looked at the surroundings. Remove the people and any Thai lettering and I could be anywhere, Houston, Hong Kong, Taiwan, or Gateshead, though not Manchester and the Arndale center, the tiles were not that tacky. There are no windows to the outside world only onto shops, why? Here in Thailand maybe the goods are cheaper. The place had a fair smattering of tourists! I could imagine them flexing their flexible friends and taking a bunch of stuff home. "The stuff was damn cheap," they'll tell their friends. I just want to rush in with a calculator, "Well let's figure in your hotel and airfare, the time you spent in the mall instead of seeing the outside world. Was it worth it?"

I must be careful though and not call the kettle black. I had spent two hours watching a movie. I could have done that in Taiwan. Well I saved ?G3.50 and the auditorium was of far better quality than what I am used to in Taiwan, so it was not a great waste.

On exiting the mall Mecca, I found a large beer garden. Yellow foldaway table and seats headed on one side by a music stage and lined on two with stalls devoted to life£¾|s essentials: fast food and beer. So, I decided to take a leaf out of the fiance£¾|s book. No stop at the travel agency, or foot massage. A glass, no a pitcher, of beer and pen to paper. I wanted to buy a novel to read at Ko Shan Road, but I will leave it. It is nearly six, so one more hour then I£¾|ll look for the bus, No8, to the station. There I can get a quick meal. Writing might have to be sacrificed soon as the place is outdoors and there is no overhead lighting.

I just ordered a 'Pork liver salad,' and from the menu saw that the place is part of a beer festival. Not quite what I'd call a beer festival as there only seems to be three different kinds of beer, but the price is good, 120 baht for a one-liter pitcher, in Taiwan I'd pay more for just a bottle. The dish was 60 baht and I tipped twenty, so you can see I£¾|m a bad tipper.

The light is going to fail, so I will leave it, to another time. Time to 'Turn on, tune in, and knock it back,' beer that is.

Monday, 17th of Jan 2000.

It's about noon and I am sat at a restaurant table overlooking the Mekong. Here in Nong Khai, Thailand, across the river is Laos. From my point I can see the Friendship Bridge about two kilometers upstream. Downstream a minute or two's walk is the Thai immigration office with its boat jetty. Later I'll inquire about the formalities for a Laos visa. Perhaps apart from the thirty US dollars there will be no other formalities. My Lonely Plant Guide, about ten years old, says you need a hotel reservation. But I hope with the money tourism brings that is a defunct policy.

My train ride was OK, I slept on and off in that strange state where you don't think you get any sleep, but drift in and out of it. I was helped by the two pitchers of beer I drank at the 'Beer Festival.' To help me remember that good time I have a bottle with me at the table. I feel fine and since I had a late breakfast, in no need of food.

The beer festival was crowded mainly with Thai. There was a trio of singers who worked the stage. Two attractive Thai girls in high platforms, I thought they were only popular in Taiwan, and a Thai male. The male singer came on first, and when he left after his first part, I noticed he had a beer belly that looked out of place on his skinny body. When he re-appeared, I found great amusement speculating whether it was real, it protruded at least four inches at the belt, or was it a fake for some fancy set-up gag.

Wanting to know what others thought. I asked two men at the next table. I thought they were Thais, but it turned out they were from Singapore on vacation. It started a short conversation mainly in English, but sometimes in my drunken Chinese. We couldn't keep it going long, as I had to catch my train and find something more to eat.

At the station I picked up some food at a stall and after wolfing it down went to my platform. At the platform, I went from person to person brandishing my ticket to find the right carriage and berth. As soon as the carriage attendant made up my bed, I hit the sheets.

In the morning, a little bit groggy, I watched the train slide through the rural countryside. I can't say the places looked poor, perhaps simple, but they all seemed clean and tidy. A lot were traditional timber houses on stilts, some were more modern, white-washed concrete affairs. All had that open window look, that catch the slightest breeze to cool the interior.

At the terminus in Nong Khai, a swarm of tuk-tuk drivers ran up to the slowing train, hawking their trade to any white faces they glimpsed in the windows. They approach everyone, not in an overbearing way, but in a consistent way. I explained my hotel would send a driver. When I found there was not a driver there, I got my hotel brochure. This attracted the attention of a couple of drivers who looked over my shoulder, ever-ready to tell me they knew the place and could take me there for a reasonable rate.

I spied a retired looking foreigner sat on a bench and asked him if he was waiting for a hotel pick-up. No, his wife was inquiring about return tickets and he was waiting. He was interested in what hotel I was staying at since he and his wife would be looking of one in town. I think the price of 1000 baht was more than he wanted to spend.

I decided to walk to the hotel, this was to the disappointment of the tuk-tuk drivers who were shadowing me. One even followed me in his tuk-tuk down the street for a hundred meters just in case my resolve had crumbled. No, sorry I wasn't going to change me mind I told him. Another hundred meters down the road the elderly couple passed me. They were in the back of a tuk-tuk, off to a budget guesthouse. I wonder if they thought me strange, staying at an expensive hotel but adamant to walk the two or three kilometers instead of taking a tuk-tuk.

On the way, I stopped at a roadside restaurant for breakfast. I had Laos coffee (Which tasted like chicory,) grilled chicken, a spicy papaya salad, which came with a second plate of raw cabbage and I ate to mediate the spiciness of the former, and sticky rice, not bad for forty-five baht.

I have written enough for the moment and I have not mentioned the hotel or the set of fish cages I can see from me elevated perch over the Mekong River. Maybe later if I can remember.

Now is later. I am sat on a narrow boat that I hope will set off soon up the Mekong and by the Friendship Bridge. After the restaurant, come quest house, I went towards the immigration office and on the way stopped for something to eat, some slices of duck on white rice, and a bowl of bitter melon soup. Near the end of my meal, I was stuck with a sudden feverish tension across the scalp. It was an unpleasant feeling, I can't say it was because of something I had eaten, it might have been coincidence. I thought it might be heat exhaustion.

I wandered around the market stalls with a bottle of water, which I hoped would alleviate my sickness. A quick glance was all I gave the immigration office. The market was a mixture of locally functional items and tourist souvenirs.

I found one of the town's Buddhists temples called a wat and took one forlorn picture. I sat a while, put I wasn't getting better, so after a final walk around, which happened to let me know about this boat, I went back to my hotel.

On the way back, I picked up an international phone card, so I can call the Fianc?later. Back at the hotel I sluiced my body with cool bath water, set my alarm clock to go off after two hours and went to sleep. I slept, so I must have been very tired, sick, or both, since it is unusual for me to sleep during the day.

When I woke, I redressed and came straight to the boat. I think I will avoid any beer tonight, I just have a soda. And I will eat later, but in case I feel hungry, and for vitamins, I have a plate of mixed fruit; guava, watermelon and pineapple, served with a small bowl of salt to gingerly dip the chunks of fruit in.

Sat on the boat with me is the elderly couple I met at the train station. I forgot to mention they are Swedish. I also bumped into them in the market and I feel fated to bump into them at every twist and turn.

The boat is revving its motor, so I think it is time to sit back and enjoy the scenery.

Tuesday, 18th of Jan 2000.

It's about nine in the morning, I am sat on a French style coach writing at a knee height coffee table. I am at a decision point in my vacation. I haven't used the hotel to get my visa, their service charge was twenty US dollars on top of the thirty dollar cost of the visa. So, I am going to walk to the bridge and see if I can get the visa at the immigration checkpoint. If not, then so what? I will continue walking up the Mekong to the next Thai village and for the next week conduct a walking tour of the area.

I have become skeptical of my reasons for going to Laos. Others had done it, and I felt I needed the destination to bolster my adventurous self-image. In Thailand, I have seen Bangkok, Chiang Mai and Phuket. That means I have done Thailand, doesn't I? No, I can only vainly say so. Walking around the countryside might be more interesting than moving from hostel to tourist market to wat to hostel to tourist market to wat... I of course, might be extremely bored, but when fixed on a destination and moving with a purpose I am happy. Sat on a forty-eight hour bus ride from LA to Houston, cramped and sweaty, I am happy. Sat in a five-star hotel not knowing if I will get into Laos, I am not.

I could stay one more night. In a cheaper hotel and pay about forty US to get my visa processed, I saw a sign offering that last night. I could do that and only lose a day, and what is the rush? Laos is just as big a tourist destination as any other place. Nowhere is free from tourists except my adopted hometown North Shields, UK.

The next time someone asks me where I have been, I will slip North Shields somewhere in between all the 'exotic' places and see if they notice the satire. £¾¡±Yeah, I've seen the terracotta army at Xian, the sunset at Phuket, the skyline of Hong Kong from the star ferry, the muscle men at Venice Beach, the gondolas at Venice, the quay at North Shields, the mountains surrounding Vancouver, the huge cliffs of the Three Gorges.£¾| Will they notice?

Less of my diatribe and more on last nights adventures. The sunset ferry was not spectacular but killed time. It went down stream and never upstream to the bridge. The turning point was a bit of rock that stuck up out of the river and marked the site of a village that had slipped into the river, or maybe a Buddhist statue. Well, it was a bit of rock with ornate flags on it, and I saw it. Just you wait to see it on a future episode of your favorite travel program.

The scenery was nice. Both sides of the river was lined with houses poking out of the trees. Possibly the houses were more numerous on the Thai side. The riverbanks were both about thirty feet high and some of the houses were on concrete struts, so they jutted out. At that time of evening, a strange mist was half way between the surface of the river and the lips of the banks.

I was disappointed not to go all the way to the bridge, but today I will walk up, trying to follow the river if I can. After the boat ride, I talked briefly with the Swedish couple. The lady was interested in how much I had paid (30 baht for the ticket, 10 for the soda, 40 for the fruit and 20 tip.) They had had a full meal and transport plus guide. I think they got a good deal, but I didn't inquire about the cost.

From the boat jetty, I went to an international phone booth to call the fianc? Then I went to the market, but it was closing. I wandered around looking for a night market but couldn't find one. I came across a bus stop with some stalls. At one of them, I picked a grilled fish, sticky rice and spicy salad. Sitting inside the stall, I realized it was also the house of the owners. An elderly woman lounged on a raised sleeping platform and watched TV. Others in the family took turns to attend to the stall and the customers.

The old woman lolled around on the bed making comments to the others. And when she rolled to the edge to spit in a metal beaker, I realized she was chewing betel nut. I had not seen anyone doing that since leaving Taiwan, and in Taiwan I never saw any but the most uncouth women chewing betel nut.

When the grandson, I guess, brought my food he stopped on the way to bow at a shrine. He placed my fish in front of the shrine before he did so. I hope he was not praying to protect me from getting food poisoning.

As I ate, I watched the microcosm of the world I was in. The vendors all seem happy with each other, even through they all sold the same things and were in direct competition. The father, I guess again, took some orders for cigarettes and stuff. At one point a man ordered what looked like rice wine. But he ordered only half a bottle. The father opened a fresh bottle and decanted half into an empty bottle, checking the height of the liquid with a cigarette packet. You think that a bottle or a packet of cigarettes is the smallest unit of purchase, but when cigarettes are sold individually and bottles in half measures, you realize people are poor.

I finished off the fish, but there was too much of the rest. Paying the bill, I handed the father a hundred baht note expecting some small change back, I got seventy. Later I bought a beer, which was thirty-five and more expensive. Things are topsy-turvy. A thousand baht hotel room, a thirty baht dinner and a thirty-five baht beer.

After the meal at the stall, I walked straight into the night market. Too full to eat anything, I noted the place incase I stayed in Nong Khai again. I did though stop at one of the stalls to buy the aforementioned beer and watch the world go by.

After the beer, I walked back to the hotel, had a quick bath, watched the world news on World BBC and crashed out at about nine-thirty waking at seven in the morning. It was a good sleep.

I got up early because I wanted to get my free breakfast, which I hoped was a buffet all you can eat. I wanted to sit and stuff myself with as much as I could. But that was not to be, as it was a set menu only. I did look at the staff plaintively and squeezed them for three cups of coffee. After that, I was hoping to sit by the pool and pen my journal, but the pool opened at ten, which is about now and I am finished. So, I will go pack my things and then try my luck at the bridge