Heaven and Hell

This is the clock tower in Chiang Rai.  It's one of the first things you will see when you come into town, and, incidentally, just a few houses away from my guest house.

I flew into Chiang Rai at 8:30 in the morning.  Because I was a retard the night before, I'd basically only gotten 3 hours of sleep on a bench in the entry way of Don Mueang Airport.

I came to Chiang Rai for one purpose alone--to see the White Temple.  Ever since I'd first come across the image on an internet search teaching in Japan, it's been on my bucket list.  Better show you why.  Hush up and look at the pictures of it:

Lonely Planet says it's free, which the grounds are, but it basically costs $2 if you want to go inside the temple proper.  Lonely Planet is also wrong in calling it an art project.  Actually, no, it's a legit functional temple--you have to take your shoes off inside, no photos of the interior allowed, etc, typical temple stuff.  

It does happen to have been designed by an artist who was trying to create the most beautiful temple in the world using traditional Thai decoration in a modern context.  I'd say he succeeded...St. Basil's cathedral is the only thing I can think of that rivals it.

The entry way is lined with suffering souls and rotting ghouls, the torments of sinners.  White celestial beings guard the entry way; when you enter the temple, you'll see that it runs from damnation where you enter through a demon's mouth, to enlightenment and salvation where you exit on the Buddha's right side.

Steps to the back door.

Along the walls show the torments of life on earth moving to innocence and joy; everything in pink and blue and gold.  I wanted to stay there all day and just soak it in...but alas, the crowds were ushered on through.  

I'd show you pictures of what it was like, except, well, no photographs allowed.

Still, I have a guide book that has printed some of the artwork, and I can make liberal use of google's image searches, so here's a rough idea of what it was like inside:

I did not take any of these pictures myself.

You can also explore the grounds, which have plastered, glittering buildings in white and gold.  The place is actually a major tourist trap, so they have toilets and food and shopping, plus regular buses back into the city.

You can also purchase other works by the artist, including reasonably-priced T-shirts.

WORTH IT.

Also worth a trip, in the opposite direction, there is the Black House, another artistic creation.  This time, it's a village of dark buildings made of macabre imagery like this...

Just these very sinister buildings in the middle of this forest.  A local group of kids were playing funeral-style music in the opening exhibit when I first arrived, adding to the creepy effects.

The one caution I would make is that you have to get a bus, which drops you near by, but you've got to walk the last 800 meters to get to it.  That's like half a mile.  Not that awesome at 2pm in hot season when the sun is beating down on your sorry little Caucasian skin and brain.  Also the sheer multitude of loud, narcissistic Chinese tourists bears some comment.

Still worth it though, don't let my incessant negativity get you down.  Just use sense when traveling, unlike me.

The Guesthouse

There is also a Blue Temple, a Giant Buddha, and a lot of other cool things to do around Chiang Rai (long-neck people, hill tribes, elephant parks, etc.) but I was damn tired by the end of this.  I just went to my guesthouse and collapsed.

I am so retarded...

I've decided to explore Laos for the Southeast Asian New Year.

So on my vacation to Laos, I first thought I'd take a stop at Chiang Rai, which is one of the few options AirAsia conveniently links to Phnom Penh.  It also has the famous White Temple.

So I took a flight, which had a 2 hour layover in Bangkok.  I was one of the first off the plane, there was no one at customs...and then I promptly missed the damn flight FOR ABSOLUTELY NO REASON.

I mean, I have no idea why I did it.  It wasn't that I lost track of time, it wasn't that I got lost.  It just...happened.  It was like I somehow entered a misty zone where no time was passing...idk.

Dumb AirAsia told me that I'd have to buy a new ticket, which I then did like a silly little bitch.  FUCK.

As I write I'm stranded in the damn airport, kicking myself for my idiocy.

Ruby Bridges

So I attended this new school today.  It is called the Royal University of Phnom Penh (RUPP) and is intended for local people.  However, they have a Khmer for Foreigners program.

PROOF!

Most of these foreigners are Korean or Philipinos.  I, on the other hand, am this random middle-aged white woman who shows up on a rickety bicycle (which I proceed to chain to a pole) in a peasant hat to block the elements during my journey.  Let's just say, I stand out a little.  I feel their eyes excoriating my soul as I walk past them to class.  As long as they don't tell me they're going to poison me, we're good.

On the plus side, I'm finding the first two lessons very easy.  Months of practice as a hobby have put my spoken Khmer in a pretty good place.  Alright.

The Moto Affair, Parts II, III, IV, and V

So, as you probably don't remember, about 6 years ago (??  shit.) I first tried learning how to drive a motorbike thinking it would make my daily life a bit easier.  This was during my Thyroid Time, meaning that it was exhausting just staying vertical and I got weird leg cramps from trying.  In the end, I was in such a bad physical and psychological state that I just never left the house...so I never learned.

I had given my tuk tuk driver 50 dollars when he claimed to have a doctor's fee, on the condition that he had to teach me to drive.

Well, during my time here, I finally made good on that.

Let me tell you about it.

It's just like this.

First of all, it's scary-as-hell the first time you try.  You're sitting on this 1-ton machine that can go very fast, and you don't even know where the brake is (actually, there are two).  You can really only learn through experimentation, so you have to do it, but you feel like you can't do it without knowing first.

In my case, I got around this by going really really really slow, in a really big circle.  There are numerous videos of me doing this.  I will share but two:

Shifting gears, which are under your left foot, is another thing.  Also not inadvertently jamming on the gas when you turn sharply (which is in the right handlebar).  I did this on more than one occasion, plowing into a wall at a wat at 20 kmh because I forgot that brakes existed.  Yes, brakes exist, there are two of them, in two different places.  I swear, this gets easier.  Also, that it hurts to crash into something even at low speeds.

I practiced driving on concrete, on sand, in a Wat, in the countryside, in Olympic Stadium (where I drove through a food fest, woo!).  After several 2-hour sessions, I felt confident to go on my own.  Sure the traffic in Phnom Penh is hell, but I already ride my bike through it.  I guess this is just a step up.

True story.

Angkor Not III (because yes, I'm keeping count)

You know what Siem Reap is famous for?  Angkor Wat.  It is situated 7 km north of town.

It looks just like this.

You know what I didn't do in Siem Reap this weekend?  Go visit Angkor Wat.

Why? you ask.  Well because $37 just to go on grounds is a terrible ripoff, and the price increases by almost that much each day you stay.  Khmer people don't have to pay anything, but Whitey McCheeseburgerpants like us do.  I work hard, I pay my taxes, why the hell should I pay just because I'm white?

So, despite the fact that I was a mere 7 km south of it, I didn't go to Angkor Wat.  For the third time in a row.


My prior experiences with Angkor Wat/Siem Reap have not been good.  The first time I could have gone, it was with a group of folks in South East Asia for the wrong reasons, if you catch my drift.  I just made up some story about feeling sick and stayed home, then spent the last 7 years hating myself for it.

The second time I went to Siem Reap it was to see a friend for New Years.  I was still sick with thyroid trouble at the time, and she left me no guidance whatsoever.  I wound up getting locked outside the event, and she had no phone because she was hosting a performance.  So I stumbled around feeling awful until I came to a tourist information center, where they found me a hotel for the night (not an easy thing to do in Siem Reap on New Years).  I went back home at 7am the next morning.  Bummer.

This time I was pleasantly surprised.  I didn't go to see Angkor Wat, but instead chilled out around town for a day--mind you I hadn't slept more than a few seconds, max, on the night bus that took me there, and it was over 100 degrees Fahrenheit so it wasn't like I had ebullient energy or anything.  Ice cream, a walk around town, and a massage were just about enough for me.  You can see the pictures.

This is the sign from the road!

I woke up very early the next day to visit something even better than Angkor Wat--THE BUTTERFLY FARM.

You heard me--I woke up before dawn to ride my bike 25 kilometers along unknown roads just to see some damn butterflies.

Yes I did.

Of course, this left me with the problem of getting back to the guesthouse when I was done--which I boldly turned my bike toward, so that I could make it back before a) check-out time, b) getting sunburnt, c) the heat of the day.

Come to think of it, I failed on all 3 counts.

The guesthouse was good enough to let me shower, eat, and promptly pass out under the table for several hours before the heat of the day broke and I carried all my stuff back into town.

Before I took the night bus back home (I assure you, I slept like a rock), I managed to watch some local kids put on an Apsara dance, visited a Wat with some grisly remains, and have a lot of fish eat the dead skin off my feet.  They also gave me a free beer.  I don't know what it is about traveling in South East Asia, everyone gives you a beer.



I really hate beer, but this is the kind of thing that makes me wish I didn't.

Life Goes On...

Hello all.

About 3 years ago I declared I was going to Japan, and then promptly dropped off the radar except one time over a year ago when I briefly updated upon my return.

Sorry about that.

I wasn't just "moving on with life" and having fun and so forgot about the blog.  Not at all.  As you'll discover, I had pretty good reasons for doing disappearing--including, but not limited to, a psychopathic stalker, an intense depressive episode, the death of my father, and probably a number of other things that suck just as bad but that I can't remember right now.  Since I started this blog...I basically haven't had a lot of good days (is it cursed??).

Basically, I found very little to say and couldn't easily spin this stuff into a readily digestible story.  On some days, I just wanted to die.  On most days, actually.  I still do, but because I intend to write until death does me part, I will be backdating some entries.

I've kept a record of some of these events.  Others will have to be recreated.  Some of it will be grim, and probably none of it will be positive.  Sorry for that--it's not for want of trying, it's because life's been so persistently grim that random strangers have wept and apologized to me, needless to say what my parents have said and done.

Currently, I'm once again back in Phnom Penh for reasons I'll get to later.  This won't last forever, which is why I want to update this blog.

Trip to Kampot

So the first weekend in Phnom Penh, I decided, on impulse, to just take a bus out to Kampot and see where that left me.

This is the bus, all broken down.

I went to the bus station and took the very next bus...which promptly broke down 3 hours out of Phnom Penh in the middle of nowhere.  Cambodian buses ftw!  We sat by the roadside for hours and hours until the last tour bus came to pick us up (defeating the purpose of me having insisted on the very next bus so I could get an early start).

By the time we rolled into Kampot (literally rolled, our bus was tied to the back of the other with a rope--no I didn't take a picture stupidly enough) it was too late to book a tour of Bokor Mountain the next morning...which is pretty much the only reason anyone goes to Kampot.  I woke up early the next morning and they told me there were no more bookings available.  So, I was forced to just hack around the city all day.

I got my hair cut, or rather, evened out.  I'd hacked it off within an inch of its life the day before due to overwhelming heat and humidity.  (Putting pics tends to get me critizicized, so alas, you will not actually get to see this new haircut.)  Rest assured that it now stands 1/2 inch shorter than before and I was charged for a boy cut.

Then I decided to book a tour for a river cruise.  The guy behind the counter was taking so long that instead, I just walked across the street and paid a dollar to use a bicycle for the day.

Because I was hoping to see a pepper plantation (Kampot is famous for pepper, in addition to Bokor Mountain), I rode into the countryside a good 12km.  Alas, I could not yet read any of the signs, and thus could not find a plantation, so I just gave up and took a nice Sunday afternoon drive.  When I'd gone far enough, I stopped under a tree and ate some papaya-coated pancakes made by the same woman who'd rented me the bike.

It looks like this.

When I got back to town, I was more readily able to book a boat cruise--which departed very shortly.  Five dollars takes you up the river out of town, where you can watch the sun set behind the mountains.  When it gets dark, you can watch fireflies, although they didn't seem to be terribly active (time of year? climate change?).  Also they give you a free beer.

You get this view.

Anyway, I never did get to go see Bokor Mountain because my bus departed very early next morning.  Nor did I see a pepper plantation.  You know what I say to that?

~NEXT TIME~

The Return

I have returned.  Returned to that place, which, by my own admission, threatened to pull me under psychologically (in retrospect, not only will I say that was true, but I will also say that I was a lot worse off that I even knew).  Cambodia.

WHY you ask??  To which I answer, Why not?

I am broke.  I have no job and do not wish to continue my career as a TEFL TEACHER.  My father has left me some inheritance, I have two cases against the estate in court, and I utterly lack any semblance of security in my life.

My mother won't let me move back in with her.

What's something I can capitalize on?  What is a bulwark against the wreck my life has become?  What's a place to get away from it all?

Why, I could improve my language skills.

Yep, I'm here, continuing my studies in the Khmer language.  Don't laugh.  I really am.






(refer to name of blog)

Vitamins

I'll update you on the 10 months between this September (2016) and last December shortly.  For now, let me press on with the more relevant stories.

So, something awful happened to me, and I don't know how.  I don't mean awful like the death of my father, my depressive episode, the psychopath, robbery, or years of a demoralizing illness.  I mean awful like how your body would be after enduring all these things over a 5-year period.  Self-neglect, right?

Yes, likely from my own self-negligence during these terrible times.  First figure in how utterly shitty I felt on a daily basis from my thyroid, and how low depression had me...  I mean, it was hard for me to take care of myself for years on end, and I forgot what feeling normal even felt like.

Literally forgot.  I thought it was normal for me to

- feel depressed
- lack an appetite
- look like shit (I mean both my bodily appearance and my personal care)
- have zero energy
- never feel fully rested
- have disturbed sleep patterns
- never be able to concentrate, on anything.  EVER.

I told myself I was "just getting old", especially when the doctor said "aging" was behind many of my physical changes--I kept finding brown spots, grey hair, thinning hair, increasingly pronounced nail ridges, bad skin, you name it.

I would sit there on my father's sofa for days on end, just lost in nothingness and melancholy, without the energy to get up and be productive, without the appetite to bother getting a meal.  I couldn't consolidate myself, and it didn't matter because what did I have to do anyway?

When my complexion became...not jaundiced, not ashen...but some ghastly thing in between...and friends began to comment that I needed "color" in my cheeks (I normally have a ruddy complexion)...and I don't know exactly how long this had been going on, because it merged with every other trouble I've had...I began wondering if I was anemic and should take iron.

So I went to the vitamin store.  There were no iron pills, so I picked up "women's" tablets since they were the only thing with more than 100% iron.

They also had a variety of of other abundant vitamins in the formula, including the vitamin B complex.  (It's the one on the end in that photo down there..."Ultra Woman".)

And about 3 to 4 days after I started taking them, I suddenly had my youthful energy back, a raging appetite, my complexion began to clear...etc.

Having done the research, I am pretty sure I was at least somewhat deficient in B-vitamins.  Not sure which one, but if you're missing one, you're likely missing several.  I have done everything that leads to deficiency over the years (besides alcoholism)--thyroid problems and possible absorbtion difficulties, living off of antacids and acid-blockers for years, improper eating (I lived off McDonald's and candy in Japan)...you name it, I did it to myself.  And I had certainly been craving B-rich foods for the last year--green leafy things and lean meats...none of which I'd eaten in about 2 years.

I'm currently waiting to see if I can reverse my grey hair and melasma.  The ridges on my nails began to diminish the day I started taking vitamins.

Guys, take care of your health.

I am now a vitamin addict.  The full spectrum of health.

The Post I Can't Even Pretend is Full of Syrupy Goodness

The less said about this, the better.

But since this blog was intended to be an account of my days, I've got to do the customary thing and put this here as I file away my backlog of entries I was too depressed to update for many years...

I'll just say that my father passed away 3 December 2015 of pancreatic cancer, the same thing that killed my grandmother (his mother), her brother, and her sister within a year of each other.  It's the same thing that will kill me if I live long enough.

He left behind a dilapidated house, several pensions, and a lot of family issues I had to spend the next 2 years cleaning up.

But I'll come to that when the road so leads me.