NYC

Room 514 at the chelsea hotel. 514 is the Montreal area code, we thought this meant luck. What it really meant was that the heater was broken and it was freezing. The next night we got upgraded to a suite, and sure enough we crossed paths with Leonard Cohen's ghost.


The lobby.




Nick and Anita were there the same time, many good times.


Nick.


A day at the Chelsea galleries.


The streets.


Reflections of friends.

California

LA
Starring: myself, Debbie, and Nick
Music: M. Ward

On the One to SF
Starring: myself, Debbie, and brief cameo by Jesse
Music: TV on the Radio

SF to Sonoma
Music: Sam Roberts

Shasta to Portland
Music 1: A silver Mt. Zion | Music 2: Beirut

Thai Islands

Our plane landed a midst a golf course, a first, as we parted with Saigon along with our lovely new found Israeli friends. After the hypodermic needle cityscapes and manic cavernous streets seen in China Bangkok failed to live up to its reputation as the bustling metropolis of south-east Asia. The place is a backpacker mecca, things are easy and accessible, and everyone seems to be in the beginning or end of their travels. A few tuc-tuc rides (a 3-wheel motorized rickshaw) to the beautifully gaudy city sights and two good night outs with Sash we tearfully parted and I decided to fly to the islands, the east tsunami-less ones.

My initial focus was on Kho Pagnan, an Island that gets infested with backpackers once a month to party under the full moon. I arrived two days prior to the event and managed a bungalow on the main beach. My brief encounter with solitude was interrupted by a Swede desperately looking for a place to stay – he was referred to me because everyone here assumes I'm Swedish. I had a spare bed so I let him crash, and an avid party buddy he became.

The days that preface the full moon are miniature full moon parties of their own where crews form for the main event and fornication crimes commence. The party itself consists of 5-6 clubs open onto the beach forming slots, like a parking lot of differing sounds, that seamlessly manage to drown each other out. Fire shows are elegantly performed by ripped sweaty tattooed Thais in martial art fashion. Your beverage of choice is served in a sandbucket and usually mixed with what can only be considered a dangerous amount of red bull.

Sugar rushed, drunk, and fucked from the drugs consumed people party unpretentiously: everyone gyrates to full effect, clothes are scarce, shoes and flip-flops are constantly lost or stolen, the candid fuck around by the water – the same place that is later used as a piss pan by massive Aussie guys. Shroomshakes are served on one side of the beach and chill martinis on the other with a beautiful view of the ongoing cacophony.

I got lost in the mayhem of the party only to find myself rocking out to psy-trance as the moon fell and the sun rose. The spectacle was all recorded on a video shown all over town the following day – all so surreal to wake up in the early evening of that day and be enveloped by images of you flailing your limbs with a glint of madness in your eyes.

Also in the surreal party vein:
I stepped out of an internet café having just read that two Montreal friends partied under the full moon as well. First bar I glanced into I spotted Mike and Santi along with two lady friends, all so classic. A mass consumption of buckets begun to celebrate our chance encounter. Influenced, we partied on the beach with a backdrop of lightning and rain until the calm came with the sunlight. The end: I tackle Mike into the sand, Mike tackles Norweigian girl into water, Norwegian girl loses her money to the sea, Mike feels bad, Santi talks shit to Mike, Mike gets punished by losing his shoes and breaking his belt, all of us make a morning schnitzel and crepe run, and the boys take of to Bangkok as T-storms hit the island shaking my bungalow and awaking my sore body.

Between the fray, I rented a motorcross and explored the island's crooked roads and hidden beaches. I inhaled delicious curries, pad thais and frothy fruit shakes. I indulged in thai massages in an open air bungalow over looking the beach by a women who decided to confide to me her most personal problems, she would thank me after each massage for listening and entertaining her – symbiotic therapy.

Along with some fellow Swedes I jumped islands on a boat ride that sickened 60 % of the passengers, I was spared – I attribute my seasickness immunity to my arduous 2 week immigration from Poland by boat. The leap took us to Ko Tao, the supposed best place for scuba diving. The place is a bubble of laid back friendly people mostly here for sports, I fell for it right away and will be coming back. I got certified for open water diving – the course ended with the group emulating Matrix moves under water with flippers on hands as schools of yellow zebra fish intertwined us with curious eyes.

I rented another motorcross to explore Ko Tao. The dirt roads are soft, steep, rocky, and infamous for their creative hazards. I attempted a visit to the white sand Mango beach on a remote part of the island. All went fine until the road was suddenly blocked by 6 growling dogs, wolves really. They looked mean, they obviously didn't like me, and in not so many words they told me to fuck off and go home. As I turned around they gave chase, the glint of their white polished teeth was frighteningly blinding. As I tried mounting the massive hill I previously descended the bike slipped out from underneath me and the engine stalled. At this point the dogs paw signaled each other and took an elliptical formation around me – smart little fuckers. Their rhythmic growling, which got louder as they got closer, filled me with abnormal levels of adrenaline which enabled me, in one swift motion, to push this massive bike up the hill, jumpstart it, and cast a euphoric grin back at the wicked pack. 15 minutes later the bike died (spark plugs), the smile faded, I was stranded and alone, I cried.


View from Kho Tao


Favorite eating spot: Coconut Coffee shakes and the best Massaman Curries.


The roads on Kho Phangan, literally the entire lane was suddenly gone as if someone took a bite out of it.


Kids playing in the falls.


Great off-roading on Kho Phangan.


Full moon party.


Mike and Santi with the buckets.


Thai fire wielders.

Bangkok

tuc tuc


backpacker mecca


cool thais


ode to lonely planet




at the palace

Mekong Delta

Saigon

A view from our hotel. We stayed close to Saigon's backpacker Mecca. Didnt take many pictures here.


A little street food vendor close to our place, we ate there daily.


There was an abundance of these little sweatshop like places where they would copy art.


Saigon Bar

From Hanoi to Saigon

Notebook


We took a train ride from Hanoi south to Hue. It was pouring, some streets were flooded. We ended up getting a taxi to drive us around the city, while waiting for a bus to Hoi An. A comfortable and calm trip.


From the train.


There was a flood. The bus drove through it but our bags must, that were stored beneath the bus, got soaked.

Halong Bay

We travelled to Halong bay by bus. It is a few hours east of Hanoi. We took a boat trip for 2 days and one night. Beatifull weather, great food, and incredible scenery.


from our boat


these women, I think, were fishing before


the trip was relaxing


A lot of fun diving off the boat


The scene

Hanoi

Landed in Vietnam's capitol appropriately shell shocked from Hong Kong's late night offerings. A mini-bus (a Toyota van) packed with 9 other people and their luggage delivered us to town; the sliding doors released us into a frenzy of smiling hawkers offering us everything from motorcycles to massages. At first the city filled me with anxiety reminiscent only of the time I tried asking out the high school hottie, but after spending 7 USD for a nice hotel room and sipping on a refreshing mango shake my lucidity slowly set in. The city offers numerous French inspired cafes for the much necessary escape from the cities cacophony and bullying pace set by the millions of scooters and bikes that cut the city into blocks of comically tall narrow bright buildings of pseudo-colonial influence (I just made that up, but it sounds right).

We walked the streets of Hanoi, literally, since sidewalks don't really exist here and if so are used for scooter parking or as terrace space for steamy street food vendors who set out miniature patio sets – less the parasols – to serve the local wonton soups and spring rolls. I was impressed with all the manual labor that women do here: the streets are populated with women see-saw balancing goods on a stick across their shoulders offering fruit and such with a smiling face obstructed by a shadow cast by their characteristic conical straw hats – women here do not like the sun and strive to be as white as possible, kind of like Sasha; however they do expect men to have some color as proof of certain work.

Inspired (since my travel insurance finally went through), I rented a motorbike for a day and tried to conquer the city. I was told that I have death wish. I made myself a promise to not use the horn, just to prove that it is sourly abused in this town and successful I was. The whole experience was very analogous to playing a videogame where you try to not get hit by the bigger vehicles while not killing the pedestrians who put their fate in your fumbling hands by crossing the street, in midst of traffic, at a slow pace looking straight ahead. Other than some irregular heartbeats caused by bus drivers with no concept of a blind spot I came out unscathed (probably did shorten my life by all the inhaled fumes though).

We escaped the city for a 2 day trip to Halong Bay. The water here was studded by these jagged massive rock islands that look like giant shark wisdom teeth, a surreal sight. We took a tour boat with a group out to the bay and meandered between these islands. Even here little boats of hagglers would grab onto our boat, all so pirate-like, and try to sell us some freshly caught seafood. We turned a corner around one giant tooth to find a floating parking lot of kayaks awaiting us. The rest of the afternoon was spent letting the sun kiss my white ass body – a golden boy I emerged. We slept on the boat and again awoke to our lecherous sun, diving of the boat and frolicking in the water ensued.

We made our way down the coast to Hoi An, something of a beach city with an unnatural concentration of tailors. Unfortunately the weather turned sour and we spent our time indulging in the local restaurants and getting suits made to fit every ripple of this body made for pleasure. Got a bike again and explored our surroundings while Sash clutched on for dear life. The beach is actually stunning even with grey skies. As the rain caused the river to spill onto the front of our favorite restaurant we figured it was our queue to go.

A 16 hour train ride brought us to Saigon, an even greater metropolis than the capitol. We checked out the claustrophobic tunnel network used during the war and went for a day to Mekong delta on a jungle-like boat trip drinking rice, banana, and snake wine. There is a lot of westerners around but the city lacks style and warmth, haven't really connected with it. Have been entertained by this gay couple we met and 2 Israeli sisters traveling together for the first time and not getting along.


Hanoi: the northern capitol of vietnam, cut by narrow streets, livened by streaming scooters, and filled with curious odors


The Hotpot


The Barber


The Basket Guy




The bamboo lady


night view




gentleman taking a nap


stuck in traffic on my scooter


many bears


the lowly Dong