I blogged about my friend Matt’s Guerilla Garden a few weeks ago. The gist of it was…well, fuck; allow me to just quote myself:
To-day in the park bumped into my friend, Matt. We got to talking about the election, of course; and Fukushima; and health and nutrition; and cetera. He also happened to mention that he’s been growing, for a few weeks now, a guerilla garden, up on the ridge. As I expressed immense enthusiasm in the project, he took it up to show it to me. There’re four or five different plots, on two different sites. So fucking cool! This is the future — right here, right now. (Wanna know just how on-the-edge it is? The fuzz have been staking the place out, and have even messed with it a bit.) Thanks, Matt. Am mucho inspired!
Well, to-day I bumped into him again; and we decided to head up for a second photo session. One will readily see how wondrously and lushly has grown in the garden in these three weeks. Here’s a then-and-now.
Look at those squash, just ripping it! He’s got Lemon Cukes coming in as well.
In point of fact, some of ’em are even ready for Prime Time. Here I am devouring one for myself. Kick and ass! And if you think I perhaps don’t know from Lemon Cukes, and so have point point of reference: think again. As I here attest — and as witnesses will, if necessary, corroborate — I am a fucking aficionado in the ways of the Lemon Cucumber. And Matt’s don’t take a back seat to anybody‘s. (Well, except for this one vendor at the U-District Market…)
Yeah, Matt took the helm for a while. Son of a bitch was kind of a taskmaster at the lens — making me pose in all manner of weird and unnatural positions; and with the pointing and the gestures. Tell you this much: the life of the fashionable model, shit ain’t as easy as it looks!
Lotsa photos to-day, all now uploaded to the Flickr page, along with the few taken during the earlier sitting. Matt’s rocking the goddamn Casbah here, folks; let’s all the rest of us get crackin’ as well!
A cool cloudy day to-day, so made time to upload the full-length recording of Thee Emergency’s Solid, about which I’d raved a week or so ago.
Don’t even know what made me pull this record out — probably just looking for loud music to listen to on one or other overnight Thailand train trips. But now that I have done, I can’t stop listening to it. It’s got its hooks so far into me, that I figured I must go back and see how many notches I’d raise it up were I to rank it to-day?
Whoa, turns out it’s at #5 on my 2008 list, nestled right in between Ray LaMontagne and Elliott Brood. Yet I had somehow kinda let it slip my mind. I think that, in retrospect, I’d rank it second, behind Devotchka; dropping Joseph Arthur to third, Balkan Fever to fourth, and Ray Lamontagne to fifth. Shit, what a great year in music that was!
Meanwhile, I pulled a major boner leaving off my best-of-decade list altogether. It certainly would now place within the top twenty-five…maybe well within.
And now I’m back in Seattle. Didn’t even jet-lag, somehow. (But…could somebody tell me why, with all the numerous in-flight personal-entertainment options available these days, one can’t jack in to the radio communication between the cabin and Air Traffic Control?)
Only a few loose ends to report.
Monday, paid a visit to the Jim Thompson House. American architect who fell in love with Thailand during the War, and stayed on to build a Thai-silk exporting empire. His personal home in Bangkok is a mixture of Eastern and Western sensibilities. He died mysteriously in ’57 (or what), and the house is now a tourist attraction. Pretty cool place. The best bits are off-limits to photographers; but here are a few shots.
On the way down the soi to the house, a gentleman demanded of me, “What is going on here?” Seeing my confused look, he continued, “Why are you barefoot?”
“I like it.”
“It’s not too hot?”
“Well, sometimes it can be. But to-day is fine.”
“To-day is fine?”
“Uh-huh.”
Skeptically: “Are you sure?”
“Uh…pretty sure!”
“Do you need some money to buy some shoes?”
“No! I have some right here in my pack! But thanks for the offer.”
As I turned to walk away, he called to my back, “You are my idol!”
“What?”
“You are my idol! Tomorrow, I am going to do the same thing, too.”
So I rushed over to get a picture with him.
After leaving the house, walking down the street to the Park for my penultimate aerobics session, this sign made me do a double-take.
When I first spied it, it was partially obscured, and I was for some reason sure that it said, “Leper Action / NON-STOP”, and thought it a most unusual topic for a movie!
Tuesday, only just hung out at my favourite place in the city, Lumphini Park. O! how do I love the crows, and the lizards, and the trees, and the dressed-to-the-nines cops patrolling the grounds on their tiny little children’s bicycles, and the joggers, and the maintenance staff, and the tourists wondering what…the…fuck aerobics is all about.
Too soon, it was time for the last and final aerobics, and yet another raucously entertaining evening at De Talak. And now…gotta get my dimpled ass back to work to make me some cash-money, that I may return to Asia tout de suite.
[dc]W[/dc]ednesday last, paid a visit to the Erawan Museum. The place had been on my radar for quite some time. With a description like the following, you know it’s a-gonna be right up my alley for reals:
The Elephant of the Universe. This three-headed elephant (Airavata) was born of Khun Lek Viriyapant’s ideas and imagination. It was inspired by his wish to preserve his collection of antiques as a contribution to Thai cultural heritage. Many of these were priceless objects of art; they were also held as sacred objects for people of ancient cultures. According to ancient traditions, they were believed to bring blessing and prosperity to the land and its people, and therefore must not be lost to outsiders. It had been Mr. Viriyapant’s concern to find a way that would keep these objects safe and that would also be suitable to their traditional functions. One day he had a visit from a Westerner who, during the course of the conversation, suggested the idea of constructing the most important building in the town in the form of an apple which, according to Western traditions of belief, played a crucial part in the shaping of human destiny. This suggestion was warmly welcomed by Mr. Viriyapant. He nevertheless thought it more appropriate to adhere to Eastern traditions and thus decided on the heavenly elephant Airavata of Hindu mythology. […]
Over 10 years of perseverance, common clay and dust were finally formed into the massive 43-metre tall sculpture which today stands on a long stretch of Sukhumvit road. The elephant’s massive body, made of pure bronze, is set on the top of a huge round base painted in pastel pink. Inside the breathtaking museum hall invaluable reminders of Thailand’s ancient heritage are kept, while its captivating interior is lavishly adorned with elegant decorative pieces of contemporary art.
I had lo these many months balked at the (for my budget) exorbitant 300 Baht admission fee; but finally decided that I’d not forgive myself if, never I should return to Bangkok, to have missed out on the Big Elephant for want of a measly sawbuck. And so, after an easy twenty-minute bus ride, there it was.
Uh, okay; that fucker’s pretty big.
The elephant is still visible, even from the “Free Zone” of the museum’s grounds. But to get up close and personal, gotta pay the fee. Which I done. Before exiting the “Free Zone”, however, had a quick look at the Mission Statement. Kinda grandiose.
Of course, the visitor needs must accept some responsibilities as well. Love the bit about “Keep the place clean.”
On the grounds is a display detailing, month-by-month, the festivals celebrated in this particular region of Thailand. Now, how does this rate among your all-time fave sentences ever have you read?
During his time, he was a very famous and compassionate guru whose auspicious Tiger Tooth amulet was very popular and powerful.
So then this damned elephant…
It’s big-huge, no doubt. But somehow I couldn’t help feeling that there should be more to it that just big-huge. Something mystical (or what). I really couldn’t grok the thing. I done felt somehow, in other words, more than a little disappointed.
Okay, well, how if I had a go at the museum? It’s in several different parts. An underground level is filled up with Thai ceramical artefacts. No photos allowed, which is a big-huge shame, ‘cause this stuff was just…so phenomenal. Probably worth the price alone, just to see these ceramical works.
Then, to it, let’s head up into the big guy’s belly. Stepping inside the ground level of the museum – really just the lobby – and…Holy Christ, this place is some kind of gorgeous!
Are you fricking kidding me? How is this even possible? I mean, a scenario this astonishingly resplendent shouldn’t even be possible in a dream or a movie, let alone in real-live live-long life. Yowz!
Well, so, one will climb the spiral staircase right up into senor’s guts. There’s only one small window, in point of fact, and the view is nothing too scintillating.
But, you know, it’s pretty together.
Then keep climbing further still, and it’s into the topmost level of the museum – kinda like an ice palace up there. There’re numerous off-limits-to-photographers wickedly fine Buddha images lining the walls; while the front is a pretty remarkable shrine.
Okay, this is all pretty flabbergasting, ain’t it? But then, the way back down, it’s time to be set agog all over again, as one notices wonders aplenty which had been missed the first time ‘round.
What can one say, apart from “God damn”?
Half-inclined to call it a day (maybe even a life), now, as, having seen the inside of this place, what the Hell else is there?
But decided instead to try to see if I could wrest some kind of inner meaning from this freakin’ elephant. There must be more to it that just, “Gee, that son of a bitch is huge.” Er, mustn’t there?
So I went outside and just lay down on the ground for a while, just to get a different perspective on things. And ended up in the same position for an hour or more, having found…what, am not sure. But, yes, viewed from this angle, the elephant doth begin to take on new, if un-definable, meaning.
Of course, yes, the photos won’t convey the treasured emanations. But nevertheless, here some are.
Walked around to the other side, and again lay down on the ground – this time for more like two hours, just drinking it all in. Truly there is some kind of a something going on with this cat. Something more than meets the eye. Je ne sais quoi; but, it’s real.
I even took some footage, too. Of a sculpture? Well, but, see, the wind came up for a time; and then a bit later some raining. Which events added some manner of dynamism to the setting.
All said and done, this place may well be (leaving aside the Temples Of Angkor which, really, are a whole other ballgame) my most favourite man-made attraction of the Asian sojourn. It’s right there with Sala Kaew Ku, and a few of the more remarkable temples. And to think: I nearly allowed a measly sawbuck to keep me away altogether. Coming to one’s sense, I guess: better late than never!
More (so many more) photos over at the Flickr page.
[dc]M[/dc]ind thoroughly blown, it was time to go camping! Thursday morning, Rata, myself, and her five-year-old niece set out for the “Horsing Farm” up in Isan, right near Khao Yai National Park.
It’s a group of friends with whom she’s been close since having taken a class with them twelve years ago. One of them, Pikun, owns the Farm (which supplies 8% of Thai racing horses), while his sister owns the property on which the farm sits.
In all, there were ten of us, including three kids and a maid. Her friends are just the most wonderful people! Had the pleasure of their company for only a few days, but felt as though I’d known them practically the whole of my live-long life. So warm, and welcoming, and funny, and goofy, and cool.
And this, even though it was difficult to communicate. They were more self-conscious with regard to their speaking in English than I think they ought to’ve been – their ability to do so being well more than passable, in my estimation. While, I, of course…have been here in Asia for seven months just – well, not dicking off, exactly; but certainly taking much fewer efforts to learn more Thai than I very well should have done (‘specially considering that Thai and Lao are similar enough to be mutually intelligible).
We set up shop in a modest little vacation home right alongside a beautiful little river.
And lest one think this not truly “camping”, know that there were tents pitched…on the lanai!
Thursday was the 2,600th anniversary of the Lord Buddha’s first sermon. This could mean only one thing: four-day weekend, dude! In other words, the roads were packed, and it took us a lot longer to get up to the Horsing Farm that it otherwise should have.
After stopping once for lunch, and once again for a snack, three of the four parties eventually called in to the Farm, where Pikun was there waiting for us, in the early evening.
And so, what do Thais do while on holiday? Well, they eat. A lot. Frequently. So, first things first, got the kitchen set up, and set about whipping up some dinner.
Pretty fascinating watching a big Thai gathering chow down. At any given time, half of the participants are up cooking some or other dish, while the other half are eating. Just kind of a rotating system, as each dish is added to the growing tableau as soon as it has finished cooking, and some new ones are immediately started in upon. I was even recruited to do some very basic prep work.
I wondered, isn’t it odd eating in this “progressive” manner – if for no other reason than, doesn’t the food get cold, and isn’t it strange to not all be sitting eating together? Nobody seemed to comprehend my concern; so I guess they must be okay with it. Anyway, for using just a few little camp-stoves, and a cutting board or two, they sure do whip up some delectable-looking and –smelling concoctions.
Friday morning, whilst they-all were busy going at another massive meal, I took a walk around the area – most peaceful, laid-back, and beautiful indeed.
Then we went out for a drive. After a brief stop to feed the elephants…
…we ended up at this strange little shopping mall fronting as a rustic Italian villa. Place was crowded to the gills with Thai vacationers wanting to get their photo on in front of the Italianic landmarks. You’ve never seen so many damned cameras in all your born days! Even a tripod or three. It’s kind of a neat little place, though.
After this, it was time (natch) for more eating! We went to a restaurant serving Isan food, and here it all came again. The customers write their own tickets, ordering up many, many entrees, and many, many little baskets of sticky rice. And, the servers come by with trays full of the former, plopping them down at the appropriate tables just as soon as they’ve finished cooking.
And the diners dig in, and the dishes just keep on arriving, one or two every few minutes. For the prodigious quantities of food Thais consume, it’s interesting to note the rather small size of each individual bite — and the care with which each is all packed together using the various entrees, sauces, garnishes, and rice. Thais really love their cuisine!
I et a bag of grapes.
Now, of course, food coma arrived in Camperland. While everybody was having a siesta, I walked down along the river to enjoy the setting and skip some stones, and relax. Soon enough, a couple of young locals came by, the other side of the river, and called out (as Thais so often will), “You!”
“Sawatdee krup!” I called back, nearly exhausting my Thai-language vocabulary. They came galloping ‘cross the river, later to be joined by their dog. They didn’t speak but a few words of English, but we had a merry little time together any old how. Names of “Karan” and “James” (as nearly as I could make out), they were lovin’ the picture-taking antics, believe you me.
After a while, they took me up to goof of with the horses for a bit.
When I returned to the house, peeps were waking up from their naps, and getting ready to (you guessed it) cook dinner. Another grand and gloriously gluttonous affair it was. After which, Auntie Rata got the kids all whipped up into an ever-so-entertaining frenzy.
Saturday morning, Pikun showed the kids and myself around the Farm; an excellent tour guide if ever there were.
When we returned, a great big Thai breakfast was in the making.
After breakfast, Pikun made some origami…
…and a bunch of us went for a swim in the river. Then it was time to pack up and head off to…eat another meal. Back to the same Isan restaurant from the previous day. Rata had warned me, on the drive up, to not be alarmed at the amounts of food which I would see being eaten. Even so, my head is still spinning.
And then, sadly, we went our separate ways, all back to Bangkok. More pics, again, over yonder.
For the life of me, I’ll never know what I did to deserve this invitation to spend a weekend hanging out with Rata and her friends. I couldn’t then, and can’t now, find words to express my gratitude. It’s an experience I’ll treasure for a very long time.
[dc]M[/dc]eanwhile, I’d not have thought that it could possibly do so, but De Talak has raised the bar even higher. I had arrived to Bangkok feeling rather low: missing Laos a lot, and not ready to go home.
But the De Talak, it ain’t no place for moping and self-pity. From the moment I arrived, I’ve been in disbelief. This place just keeps getting more and more fun with each passing visit. Some familiar faces, many new faces. But everybody so interesting and cool and funny and wonderful.
Never a dull moment here; and, wow, I got me a passage back home last night (Sunday), and it’s really beginning to set in. The fun will continue to be had without me; hopefully I shall be privileged to, in a future age, dive in again. I love you, De Talak!
•
And so too do I love its home, Bangkok Rock City. Yesterday, walking back from aerobics, this fellow had his finger jammed so far up his right nostril, it was like as though he was all mining for Olympic Gold in the Nosepick Finals. Fucking beautiful.
Such different worlds, these two capitals. Vientiane has recently got its (and Loas’) first shopping mall – about a fifth of the size of one of dozens of enormo-shopping domes in Bangkok. There are billboards in Vientiane promoting “Vientiane New World”, some kind of waterfront development plan, according to which Vientiane might even get a skyscraper or two. And Bangkok, well…
I’ve spilt all too many words gushing over the latter. But I’ve gotta say, given time, Vientiane will get its hooks into you. There’s really nothing much there; but in the end, it’s just Laos, I think. Somehow I’ve fallen in love even with the city unanimously considered the most boring in all of Laos.
Saturday morning at the Market: is that Benicio del Toro?
Saturday afternoon visited the National Museum. Not a patch on Luang Prabang’s National Museum, but pretty nice for a visit. Begins with some dinosaur bones discovered somewhere in Laos, and works its way up to the wars against the “Siamese Marauders”, the “French Colonialists”, and the “U.S. Imperialist”.
Despite the prohibition of photography…
…with captions like these, how could I possibly resist? Be still my heart! I think…is it the best thing in this-here world o’ ours that in 2012 these captions can exist in a major museum in a national capital? Might just be! (Not to mention this is some pretty great black-and-white photography here.)
Wandered around after that, and visited a temple I’d not previously, to discover this lovely Buddha image – one of my faves, I should think.
Some kids came running up to me, in the Park, just as soon as I began juggling. Usually, kids love to just sit and watch, and decline my offer to give it a try for themselves. But these kids were all for trying it out – as well as just generally goofing off with the balls. There was even one who was pulling truly marvelous bicycle kicks. There was also one kid that just wanted to watch me juggle, so he kept running around slapping the other kids on their heads, and taking the balls from them and returning them to me to juggle with again.
Anyhow, they kept showing me this weird, like, bowing motion with their thumbs. I mean, over and over again, as though it were supposed to mean something to me. I thought I should maybe take some footage, to see if anybody could help me out here. So…how about it? What’s this supposed to mean? Is it some kind of Vientianese gang sign, or…what?
Later, some lovely clouds over the Mekong.
Walking along the floodwall there, an older gentleman called out, as I was passing by, “Uhh…”
I turned and waited for him to finish his thought, becoming less sure as the seconds passed in silence that he’d been addressing me at all. Finally, he finished, “Where are you from?”
We ended up having a fine conversation. He and a friend were taking a break from their evening bicycle ride (his friend didn’t speak English). He seemed more Thai to me than Laotian; but, I dunno, maybe he was the latter.
Turns out, though, that his father-in-law works at the Sheraton in Seattle! I stupidly neglected to get his name, however.
After a time, he asked me, “That guy that died, he was from Seattle?” Just as I was getting ready to ask him to be a bit more specific, he quite surprised me (Asian gentleman in his early-sixties give or take that he was) with: “Kurt Cobain?”
Yep, he was from Seattle. And Bruce Lee, too, he wondered? Yes, him too. “Also Jimi Hendrix,” I added.
This last fairly floored him. “Jimi Hendrix? The black guy? The…guitar player? He was from Seattle? But…he was the greatest guitar player, wasn’t he?” He was really shocked, and quite impressed, to learn of James Marshall’s provenance.
Sunday was mostly a washout, raining all the day long. Got to know my dormmates a little bit. One, an Indian gentleman rather surprised me by relating that he’s signed a contract to be a professional boxer in the U.S. of A. – he’s a three-time Amateur National Champion and three-time University Champion in India. He’s a pretty big dude, all right; but looked a little pudgy to me to be a boxer.
Finally, it did stop raining, and I was able to stretch the old legs a little bit, landing eventually at Si Muang Temple. And…green-coloured chicken/elephant crossbreed for the win!
Some pretty cool shit going on in the interior as well.
And out in the stupa garden, I at first guessed this character to have been an animatronic; then decided it must be flesh-and-blood; and now upon reflection am not so sure.
Sunday eve in the Park, the kids again came a-runnin’ just as soon as I took up the juggling balls. I can’t figure out how they all become aware so soon after I’ve begun that there’s juggling to run to. Well, there was a pretty good-sized host on this day, and they were fucking awesome: bursting into applause, as they did, after a particularly long rally – I’m talking seven- and eight- and ten-year-old kids! And they did the same yet again a few minutes later at the conclusion of another good rally.
The Vientianese, I’ve come to notice, are deuce appreciative of the juggling arts!
Sunday night, another smashing Mekong sunset – this one for the road.
Man, I was even more bummed to leave Laos this time than I had been back in March. Don’t know what it is about the place; it just gets under one’s skin and into one’s soul. But it was time to return to Thailand for the camping trip!
One may recall that my first couple of crossings of frontiers here in Asia saw me all dudded up in my Sunday best, having read somewhere that it can’t hurt, when entering a new country, to not look like a destitute hippie who given the chance to enter might just stay in the country forevermore.
Well, since then, my Passport Control gets-up have been gradually growing less and less formal. Yesterday, Monday, I finally reached the pinnacle, stamping out of Laos and into Thailand completely bare of foot.
You know how Thais, some of them, can be kind of uptight about the old bare feet. So I had fully intended to put on shoes once I’d stamped out of Laos and got on the bus ferrying us across the Friendship Bridge. But the bus was super-duper crowded, and there wasn’t much of an opportunity to be thrashing around fishing some shoes out of my pack, and trying to get them onto my feet and all. And then, when I exited the bus on the Thai side of the river…I just took a deep breath and whispered, “Fuck it. I’m going barefoot into Thailand.”
And I did. And nobody said, “Boo.” Takin’ candy from a baby.
Hoofed it to the train station and got my ticket for Bangkok, and with many hours to kill, decided to take one last stroll along the Mekong. Just as I’d got to thinking, “Sheesh, I’ve been back in Thailand for an hour or two now, and haven’t yet seen any fucked-up weird goings on. Is Thailand losing its mojo, I wonder?”
Never fear, young farang! For, here it was, Milli Villi on the Mekong. I don’t know if they’re filming a karaoke video, or what? Do they, in real life, actually play these instruments, know these songs? Your guess as good as mine. But whatever in the Sam Hill is going on here, it’s damned entertaining (General Hard-Ass there the most entertaining of all).
I stuck around for a few numbers; even walked behind the band and flashed the ol’ Ronnie James Dio devil-horns into the camera. Here’s hoping it makes the final cut!
Never did see the dancers getting their kicks in. Maybe for the best, ‘cause they were looking pissed to the off!
And, so, here it is: my last, final, tear-jerking gaze at my beloved Mekong.
Train trip was pretty by-the-numbers. Plenty of room to stretch out and get some sleep, not really any weird shit going on, arrived in Bangkok only two hours behind schedule (a new record, I think!).
Lady across from me was pretty cool. To the looks of her, she’s got about eight or ten grandkids. Bit of a fussbudget. I sat down, and offered a smiling, “Sawadee krup.” And with that she was off and running, holding an index finger aloft as she told me her life’s story (or what) — all in Thai, of course.
She maintained, throughout the trip, the following pattern: combing her hair, toweling off, applying raspberry-scented talcum powder to her neck and face, eating a bite or two of the meal she’d packed into a little tupperware dish, chatting a while with the lady across the aisle, and then lying down to sleep for an hour or so.
Her son was along, too. But he mostly stayed on the bench behind ours; coming over periodically to sit and talk to her, or to fix her blanket up right when she was sleeping.
A quick Bangkok report. De Talak: entertaining as ever! Lumphini aerobics: mind-blowing as ever!
