NP: Red Snapper: Bogeyman

If you walk up to the German railways customer service desk and tell them that you're a group of (now) eight looking to travel from Munich to Zurich and would thus like to make a reservation, they'll charge you 28€ for a little piece of paper which documents that the guy behind the desk does not have a brain or didn't bother to switch it on: instead of two adjacent groups of four seats, we got four pairs of aisle seats.

Given that we mainly reserved to minimise the annoyance for the other travellers while we kept up a conversation for the five hours of the journey, it did piss me off quite a bit to have paid three times as much in Germany as the reservation cost in Switzerland and not be able to talk among each other without annoying the others.

This reservation was made two days in advance. You may, of course, think that the train was already full and no space to sit eight was left; however, I did not have to go further than two wagons to find copious amounts of unreserved spaces for eight, which were then, unfortunately, already occupied (of course).

It shames me to expose my peers (I made the travel arrangements) to the crap and blather one has to put up in German railways: the quality of the speaker system is crap, everything is repeated in English by non-English-speaking conductors, and after every stop, we're yet again alerted to the fact that we could be relaxing to high-quality cuisine in the board restaurant, or should watch out for the little trolley passing by and happy to collect our money. Oh, and of course the brainless and often unfriendly service employees.

And all that for a price more than it would have cost the lot of us to rent a van and drive back and forth.

Going by train is my most preferable means of transport, not only, but in large part due to environmental issues. I don't understand why the German government puts this important bit of infrastructure in the hands of imbeciles and lets them overcharge for their low-quality service and their delays.

NP: Mono: Under the Pipal Tree

Update: A guy from Berlin wrote:

The seats you found in the other wagons may as well have been reserved, too. The electronic reservation signs will extinguish about 15 minutes after the train departs from the station. Or, there was too little time between reservation and departure, so you could only get one of the few express-reservation seats.

I am aware of this. However, the train between Zurich and Munich is ancient (part of the way it still has to run on Diesel) and the reservation signs were paper slips. The seats of eight I found were definitely unreserved, especially because I checked immediately after departure.

Update: I wrote a complaint letter, which has been answered. In the response, the company refers to its conditions and claims that it cannot refund the price for the reservations since the reservations had been made successfully by their system, which automatically choses seats, and no delays prevented us from occupying the allocated seats.

They did not even touch upon the actual complaint: that their system failed to sit a group as a group (despite the availability of seat groups for eight) and the employee didn't alert me to the fact that we'd not be able to be together, or else we might not have bought the reservations.

Instead, they end their emails with sentences like "thank you for chosing Deutsche Bahn" and "we are looking forward to keeping you as a customer." Unfortunately, the Deutsche Bahn has a monopoly on rails in Germany, so unless I avoid trains altogether, I have no choice but to travel with them again. However, I will certainly help spread the truth about their (lack of) understanding of service and customer-centric business.

One piece of useful information did come across though: a reservation is €3.50, if bought without a ticket, and €1.50, if you buy it at the same time as the ticket. It's a shame that their own employees don't know about this.

This morning I got on the train to Dublin to meet two business partners and pick up a bag with forgotten things (Conall, one of the Google sysops I previously met at Google, had agreed to transport it from Zurich to Dublin on his way back). I found my seat in an overheated waggon, so I moved. The next waggon had a grade school class in it (much noise), the next one no free seats. I found space in the third, but as I was starting to read, a mother got on with two kids, one of whom was screaming while the other sang. I moved to the next car and found only one seat next to a guy who hadn't seen a bar of soap in his entire life. I moved to a carriage with a small group of prepubescent girls who made more noise than a herd of cattle on caffeine.

After all this shifting around, I was surprised to hit Dublin Heuston station shortly afterwards; I didn't really have time to sit down to await the arrival.

NP: Porcupine Tree / Coma Divine

Have you had any difficulties entering or leaving the United States? If so, EFF would like to hear from you.

After focusing attention on the Department of Homeland Security's secret Automated Targeting System (ATS), we're keen to uncover and document its effect on the law-abiding public. We're interested in hearing from any travelers who have had repeated problems at the border or have been told by government agents that they are on a "list" or that there is some unexplained "problem" that needs to be resolved.

Please share your story with us by writing travel at eff dot org and providing as much detail as possible. We will treat all responses confidentially and may contact you to follow-up.

NP: Katatonia / Viva Emptiness

Does it mean I'll be able to visit the US again sometime in the future? I don't think so; travel to the US is among the most unattractive things I can currently think of. I might reconsider when the US stops treating visitors like terrorists, taking their fingerprints and requiring so-called "Passenger Name Records" to be made available by the airline companies transporting passengers into the US, with the sole purpose to build a criminal file for everyone entering the country, just in case they become a threat to national security or an obstacle in the path of the neo-conservatives to forge ahead.

In addition, I'd fear for my laptop, which US immigration officers can now seize without reasons and scrutinise; I do not own a laptop because I can do without one for weeks on end.

Furthermore, all my data are encrypted for good reasons. As the old saying goes: "only the guilty have something to hide", I'd surely make it into their prisons as a suspected terrorist (which has happened to people before). What the US doesn't understand is that even though I may be guilty and therefore hiding something, it doesn't mean I am hiding it from them.

So no, I don't think I'll enter the US anytime soon.

NP: I Love You but I've Chosen Darkness / Fear Is on Our Side

As of today, you're not allowed to transport any liquids in your regular hand luggage, because, as we all know, it's trivial to blow up a plane with liquid explosives. Previously, only the UK, as the little brother of the Excited States of America, bought this obvious security enhancing measure; today all of the EU followed. I am not claiming they had to or were forced, I think our "leaders" in Brussels are stupid enough to make the move themselves.

From now on, liquid containers have to be transported in zip-lock bags, which you're expected to bring yourself. Every container holding less than 100ml has to be placed into that bag; if the bag is full, that's it, you can only take one (I wonder how long it'll be until you can buy zip-lock bags big enough to hold, say, 20 litres...). And of course, the bags have to be scanned separately, at participating airports only, of course. Just like some airports don't care about your laptops while others make you switch the thing on, I am sure those bags will be scrutinised differently depending on where you are.

Containers of more than 100ml are simply not allowed anymore, including drinking liquids, unless purchased at the overpriced airport stores (which account for roughly 30% of an airports revenue), of course. Our ladies will be able to bring lip stick in their pockets, but the "softer" chap sticks (Labello etc.) are considered dangerous and thus must go into the bag.

Confusing? Expect even longer delays! Ample time to think about it all!

All this is obviously only being done for our safety, and to shield us from the mean "terrorists". Thank you, you smart decision makers. If it weren't for you, we might all live freely and die happily.

NP: Amplifier / The Astronaut Dismantles HAL

Update: Kevin Fullerton points out that at least in the UK, the bags are limited in capacity to one litre, and that "verified" prescription medicine and baby food are exempt.

I shall now go to my doctor and get a recipe for a two litre water bottle. I doubt I'll pass as baby any longer. In spirit maybe, but I don't think they'll care.

Update: Andreas Schuldei points out that a friend of his with a Ph.D. in chemistry tells the opposite from what Perry Metzger claims in the article linked above. I'd be interested to hear more about that.

But I agree with you: you don't need liquid explosives or bombs at all to wreak some havoc in the skies.

All this security theatre hardly improves security — there will always be a hole, and someone will find it. On the other hand, with the publicity around "heightened security" (and related fairy tales), the average passenger is more likely to feel safe when s/he is not. Similar to the story of the boy who cried wolf, I wonder whether the authorities are not making it easier for the "terrorists".

Note that I am playing their game, the game in which our authorities are trying to win, the battle long lost before it even started. I don't think the threat is airplanes crashing into football stadiums, important landmarks, or buildins with many people; I think the real threat is terror, and I am not the only one to claim that on this front, the terrorists have long won. Our politicians either don't get it, or they do and are now furiously attempting to piggy-back intelligence measures for greater "internal control", while using the public excitement as a platform for their policitical campaigns.

For a leader to be able to push his/her own agenda, s/he can do a whole lot of talking and fail, or instill fear among the people and boldly forge ahead, for them to follow. I don't recall who said that which I freely quoted.

Update: Wouter van Heyst pointed me to this film, which is a three part documentary. screened by the BBC in January 2005 (see Wikipedia). IMDb user ratings of 9.2/10 with 675 votes... just means I'll have to get that film. You can download it for free from archive.org, see it at Google Video, or just read the argument summary.

I have travelled to developing countries a bit and have gathered some experience, which I would like to share. However, keep in mind that I am not a doctor, just a globetrotter with a strong interest in pharmaceuticals.

Let me address the most common problem first: "Delhi belly", as travellers' diarrhoea is sometimes referred to (because almost no traveller makes it through India without dysentery). I know of three preventative and four reactive treatments.

The best preventative in my experience is to stay well above the necessary level of hydration by drinking lots more than you usually do, especially when it's hot. Prefer bottled water and juices, stay away from ice and fresh juices and shakes (as hard as it may be). Hygiene (i.e. hand disinfectant) is important, but you cannot control what's in the pot that way, especially not in restaurants (though upscale ones are generally safer, so don't be greedy). In extreme cases (when you have no other choice), another approach worth a shot is to drink enough high-percent alcohol with anything you take in orally. It's no guarantee and often not a very preferable solution (especially when it's hot), but it's kept me running a bunch of times before.

Instead of growing paranoid about it, consider the treatments: the most common two treatments I have seen among other travellers were Loperamide ("Immodium") and Ciprofloxin (or Ciprofloxacin), an antibiotic. Both are suboptimal and to be used as emergency medication only (and many traveller's don't know that). While Loperamide regulates your urge to go to the toilet by blocking and binding that which comes out the behind, it also prevents the body from ejecting the bacteria which caused the digestive system to malfunction. Thus, Loperamide should only be used when you cannot get to a toilet as often as necessary (e.g. on a bus ride), and it must not be used for more thantwo or three days without medical advice from a doctor.

Ciprofloxin, the antibiotic, is almost always a sure-fire cure against diarrhoea, but it must be taken for around seven days, usually up to four days after the symptoms faded, or else the body can build up a resistance to the chemical. During this time, you should not consume alcohol (or other drugs), and limit the amount of physical exercise, which makes it not suitable for e.g. hiking or trekking trips. Note that Ciprofloxin is a prescription-only medication.

Apart from staying hydrated, my favourite cure is medical coal (tablets at 250mg each; "Kohle Compretten"), which have negligible side-effects and can thus be used on-demand. If I feel my stomach going a little wobbly, I pop two of them 2-4 times a day, and that settles it after 24 hours. If the diarrhoea does come through, double the dosage. It'll help regulate the need, but at the same time won't block it.

If you do get unlucky, try to rest, switch to food known to be safe (e.g. packaged food), and drink a lot, ideally electrolyte solution, but a slight salt-sugar solution will also do. I actually like fresh orange juice with sea salt, which will do the trick.

I am generally not a big fan of taking pharmaceuticals, but I always have some important ones with me:

• Ibuprofen: mixes well with alcohol and is thus a perfect small-scale pain-killer against pre- or post-party headaches, or headaches that would ruin a nice dinner with friends. Make sure to drink a lot of water, and even more if you also take in alcohol
• Paracetamol: medium-scale pain-killer, helps reduce fever. Does not mix well with alcohol. Primary symptom treatment for malaria and dengue fever, influenza, and colds. Drink lots of water.
• Diclofenac: against swellings and inflammation. Does not mix with alcohol, and the tablets may seriously affect your digestive system. Consider combining with Pantozol, even prophylactically.
• Valium, or preferrably something less strong: on the bus or on the plane, if you cannot sleep because it's too uncomfortable. Make sure to have the dosage right or you won't make it off the bus, even if someone wakes you.
• Ciprofloxin: whether it's diarrhoea or any other sort of infection, or bacterial infestation, it's good to have Ciprofloxin with you. If in any way possible, I recommend calling your doctor back home before you start taking it, just to be sure. Antibiotics are really not suited for experiments.
• Hydrocortisone: insect bytes and sun burns. Use sparingly because it attacks (thins) the skin.
• Loperamide: see above. Try to avoid it unless you really need it.
• Bisacodyl: congestions can be quite painful.

Other stuff you may want to carry along includes wound disinfectant (Dexapanthenolum; also any high-percent alcohol would do), fruit/grape sugar (Dextro-Energen), stuff against sickness on cars/boats/etc. (Vomex), bandages, Diclofenac gel, ice spray, a fever thermometer, a bunch of wet hygienic towels, single-use eye drops, steroid-based ear drops, and so on. Your pharmacy will have a complete list.

Anyway, given the proximity of medical assistance to the conference campus in Mexico, most of the above won't be necessary. Nevertheless, I think it's important that travellers to countries with lesser hygienic standards than their home countries are familiar with the above, and if only to consciously decide for or against a treatment. In general, I think it's always best to try to isolate and treat the cause rather than the symptoms. And surprisingly often, dehydration is (one of) the cause(s), so electrolytes are among the most important to have with you, in my experience.

But again, I am not a doctor.

Coming back to the hotel, I still wasn't allowed to take a shower by the unfriendly hotel staff, but was lucky when an englishman heard my cries and offered his room for a quick rinse. Feeling a lot better, I made my way to the airport and passed the three hours waiting time with my new Murakami book.

The flight itself was okay, despite the Swedish couple next to me. Apparently it must have been their first long distance flight, and they could not get enough "free drinks," so while the guy was stashing away cans of beer into his bag, the girl ordered a beer, whiskey on the rocks, and red wine all at the same time, then kept complaining to her boyfriend that she wasn't feeling well. As I was sitting on the aisle, I had to get up to let one of them out every 15 minutes or so (they refused to climb over me), so you can imagine how I felt when we finally landed in Vienna, 11 hours later. At least they have excellent coffee at the airport to soothe the pain, and by the time I learnt that my Swiss flight back to Zurich was delayed by almost two hours, I had already stopped worrying and just took everything with a smile.

So now I am back home and somewhat sad. Running over to the supermarket to fill the fridge for the weekend was depressive, and I am sort of reluctant to catch on with real life again, but who wouldn't be after any vacation. Enough whining...

My cousin and travel companion on last year's trip to Southeastasia found it amusing that my previous travel reports continuously switched between expressions of displeasure with a certain sight, and statements that I'd have to return soon. Both are true; I have been disappointed a number of times during the time in Myanmar, but I attribute that largely to following the "beaten track," the route all tourists go. Now that I've seen the most popular sights, I am ready to get off the beaten track the next time and get to know the country as it really is, not as it has been shaped to meet the demands of tourists.

As I stated before, I have much more to say about my trip than I am willing to do publicly. In case you are interested in my thoughts, please drop me a line and let me know briefly how I know you, or why you are reading my blog anyway, just so I can make sure that I know who'll be reading my comments. If you have gotten an email from me, advertising the blog before the trip, you need not let me know.

But before you get your hopes up, these aren't going to be revolutionary thoughts I have to keep away from the public; instead, they are just personal ramblings, not censored for the general public.

Before the airport the next morning, I made a stop at the Yangon MICT, specifically the Myanmar Info-Tech company, to meet William, the Myanmar Linux Guru #1. Unfortunately, he was busy at the 5th Myanmar ICT week, so I sat in one of the talks instead and was very pleased to learn that there is an active (but small) group of people working hard on localisation of Pango to the Burmese and Pali languages (the latter being the ancient Buddhist language, and the acceptance of the Burmese character set into Unicode 4.0. I exchanged email addresses with a few of the folks involved, who were well familiar with Debian and Ubuntu, and rather interested in teaming up. I'll forward their addresses to the localisation people as soon as I get back.

With still some time left before check-in, I enjoyed my last Myanmar-style breakfast -- Mohinga -- which is a spicey fish soup with noodles, and definitely the best way to start the day; I'll miss it. At the airport, I was getting mildly annoyed once again at their security procedures, which in part required everyone to surrender their gas lighters. Of course, I had four of those on me and in my hand luggage, but when I refused to give them all of them, pointing to the smoker's lounge on the far side of the security check, they held their heads low and gave in. I bet they do this primarily to sell the lighters for some cash on the side, given that nowhere else in Myanmar, or flying to Myanmar, I was asked to do the same.

My chaotic self managed to also leave the info brochure from the Info-Tech company, as well as the slides from the talks at the immigration counter, which promptly got me into a questioning by the military as to what kind of documents these were (they cannot speak English in general). With the help of a local, I told them all about localisation and they seemed impressed, but when I finally got on the plane, I guess I felt somewhat of a relief to be outside this tightly-controlled country again.

I landed in Bangkok and took a taxi to the hotel, only to discover that thanks to a power outage and the crappy Internet connection back in Mandalay, I had managed to book the wrong one. Instead of central Sukhumvit, I am now staying at Soi 57, which is 4 km further outside of the city. That wouldn't be a problem, for the sky train station is right in front of the hotel, but the staff have not had a lesson in friendliness and generally barked back rather than answering my requests. Plus, since my flight tomorrow is only at 23:30 and I requested to take a shower at 20:00 before taking off (having otherwise checked out and cleared my room), they simply shoved a sign into my face which stated that check-out after 16:00 hours would cost a full day's room rate, and that they did not have any showers available otherwise. Screw that. I'll make sure to let asiarooms.com know in the form of a review.

Having settled, and with a bunch of Thai Baht left to spend, I headed for the center, bought myself another Murakami book ("Hardboiled Wonderland and the End of the World"; I seriously love this author), and then proceeded to spend money as fast as I could -- and I am not good at that. I got another massage, bought some bamboo plates and one of those gravity-defying wine bottle holders, a bunch of DVDs, had dinner, and then didn't feel like anything more, so I went back home.

As usual, coming back to Bangkok is quite a disappointment (while arriving at Bangkok at the beginning of a trip is a thrill). The city is busy, dirty, and noisy, it's all comparatively expensive (even if you bargain hard), and people are so much more into making money that it's not really possible to get in touch with locals. Then again, I cannot figure out whether my disappointment stems from the shopping mode (into which I was put by several requests to bring back stuff), this being the end of my vacation, or just being back in a metropole after so many rural days.

Almost no plans for tomorrow. I might have to make my way to the dreadful Khaosan Road to pick up some student IDs for friends, I would like to (finally) see the snake farm, and I have a lunch appointment with the retail manager of Jim Thompson (the famous silk exporter), who happens to be a friend of Adam, the guy I met in Mandalay, and who introduced me to her -- no worries, I am not getting into the silk business, nor will I spend money there, but the lady is supposed to be quite a character and fun to talk to. Why not? If I wake up, it'll be Tai Chi in Lumpini Park at around 5:30, and if there's time in the afternoon, I'll make my way up north to the biggest market of Bangkok (don't have the name handy). In general, not such an exciting day, waiting to return to Europe.

Sigh.

I still have small dollars, but with those, you end up paying too much all the time, so instead I went out on the quest to change some money with the street touts. Normally, if you are walking the streets, you'll have someone approach you with "change money" every few metres, and it gets quite annoying. Of course, over time, you develop methods to deal with them, ranging from avoiding eye contact, walking fast, and simply answering their usual introductory questions ("how are you?" or "where do you come from?") with "no, I don't need any money".

But of course, when you are actually searching for someone to change money, nobody comes up. I just spent an hour roaming the streets without a single tout approaching me. And when one finally did, I was surprised at what happened to the rate. He offered 1'300 Kyats for the dollar, when it was 1'450 this morning, and 1'400 while I was on the market. Naturally, I told him to get a grip and fortunately soon found the next one, who explained to me that the dollar is now at 1'200, but he'd be so gracious as to offer me 1'250. Yeah right. The next one, shortly afterwards, also offered 1'250, and so did the forth and fifth, with whom I then made the exchange, having grown tired of the search.

What I find pretty amazing is how the word spreads. There are hundreds of those money changers all over the place, and if the rate really dropped by 200 Kyats in a single day (which my hotel confirms), then it's pretty cool how quickly everyone finds out.

The Southeastasian countries never cease to amaze me.

On a related issue, more infos on the beggars question: I enjoyed a cup of tea with a former professor of English at the Yangon University, and I asked him how Myanmar people deal with beggars of both kinds, the stationary (and less obnoxious ones), and the ones who keep pestering you for minutes on end. He pretty much gave me the same answer I had received the other day: "I have some, and they don't, so I give". Since the Portuguese traveller has not linked up with me so far, I guess that settles the debate for me.

Thanks for reading along.

When I left the Internet cafe yesterday in the early afternoon, thick clouds covered the sky and it was starting to become quite bearable. Thus, I decided to visit Shwedagon Paya that afternoon, but not before getting a massage (for $3), which was duly necessary after the two hours of almost continuous typing during the hottest hours.

I reached the pagoda sometime around 16:00 and almost got into a fight with the ticket office. Admission is $5, and since I am keeping my dollars until all the Kyats are spent, I was asked to pay 8000 Kyats. The current exchange rate (which fluctuates +/- 50 Kyats per day, it's very unstable) is 1450 Kyats to one dollar (it was 850 just one month ago), so I'd have to pay a little more than half a dollar more if I paid in local currency. The lady tried to tell me that she's paying 1550 or 1600 for $1, so I tried to tell her that she better find some other exchange place because she's being ripped off. After ten minutes of a heated discussion, I turned around to leave and she finally settled for 7500 Kyats. You may wonder why I make such a fuzz about 500 Kyats, but the reason is simply that the money goes to the government, which I don't want to support unless I have to.

The pagoda itself is quite impressive, rising 100 metres into the sky from atop a sixty metre high. In as such, you can see this pagoda from many places in the city, unless enclosed by tall buildings that usually line the streets. It's said to contain the hairs of Buddha, from when he shaved his head to go and contemplate under the tree in the forest for six years at the age of 29 years, while in Bagan I was told that Buddha threw his hair into the sky, where it hovered and bring luck as long as it remains up there. I suppose he had to shave more than once, so the theories can both hold.

I had a guide show me around, but I ended up knowing more about Myanmar history and Buddhism than him, so it was kind of a joke when he asked me for $5 afterwards. I gave him a lecture that he needs to announce his price beforehand and gave him $3, then left him protesting. Again, I am not here to rip people off, but I also won't pay $5 for a half hour tour, when the guide should instead be at home and reading books about the stuff he told. Still, I found the pagoda quite impressive, even though the overcast sky prevented me from seeing the sunset, for which it is famous among tourists. I would come back again at night to watch the supposedly beautiful lighting after dusk, and headed back to the city, with a number of detours thanks mostly to hopping on the wrong busses. As I mentioned before, "yes" apparently means "no" and "yes" and "I don't understand" and "thank you" and almost anything else, if used as a response by a not-so-fluent Burmese.

For dinner, I treated myself to a somewhat expensive Sushi dinner, came back to the pagoda to watch the evening life of families and couples strolling clockwise around the stupa (resembling a little the evening family strolls in small Italian cities), found the lighting too bright and still boring, and made my way to the hotel, on foot because I only had a $20 note on me, which is useless when trying to pay for a taxi.

... and then I was mugged; not by some evil Burmese or one of the many muslims living in the city, but by two American rednecks, who apparently ran out of money (and it's very hard to get more without going across the Thai border) and were desperate enough to threaten me with a knife. I really didn't feel like a hero and prepared to hand over the $20 bill, when I saw a military truck drive up the road behind their backs, and remembered the Burmese call for help ("Keh-ba!"), which I shouted just as they were about to pass. The rednecks tried to make a run but had no chance (the military did not even think about using guns, they just called out to a police man at the end of the street, in the direction the rednecks were running). There was not much discussion, the two were loaded onto the truck, and the police officer then explained to me that those guys will be held in prison for two weeks before handed over to their embassy for further prosecution in the US. He asked me if I wanted to press charges against them, in which case they could get sentenced to up to ten years in prison in Myanmar for use of a weapon against civilians (with no right to a lawyer or help from the embassy), but I declined. Curiously, just in the morning, I had read a bit in a doctorate thesis on Myanmar prison life in the bookstore on Merchant Street at the corner of 38th, and it was obvious that the next two weeks for them were going to be hell on earth and enough of a punishment for their misdeed. While handing over my passport, I was assured that the "prisoners" were not going to find out my identity (and I doubt they'll find this blog), and with still somewhat shaky legs and a slight feeling of guilt, I climbed in the back of a police truck to take me to the hotel, wondering a little about how friendly and cool the police were towards foreigners.

The next morning, I rose early to confirm my flight reservation and make some arrangements for tomorrow's departure, then headed off to the university by public bus in the hope to talk to the folks at the computer science department about Linux, and to hand over some of the Ubuntu CDs I have left. In Mandalay, it was not possible for me to set foot on the campus, and here in Yangon it would not have been much different, had I not met a zoology professor on the bus, who took me to the campus and refuted everyone's claim that I could not enter. Instead, she called the computer science head professor, who then explained to the officials that she had been waiting for me and would come and pick me up.

While waiting, I witnessed a Burmese student just falling to the ground and ran over to help -- nobody else did. With the military folks chasing me (I had not thought about that), I didn't actually have to explain a lot when I knelt down next to the guy, obviously trying to help. The officials just stood close by and watched my every move, as I scrambled to remember my first aid training, diagnosed the guy with a heat stroke, or something in that direction (no sweat, very hot forehead, rapid pulse, white face, mild seizures, uncontrolled movement of the eyes, and delirious lulling), and gave orders to the bystanders to help me carry him to the shade, get water (I had some electrolyte rehydrating solution left), sugar, to have someone fan his head, and someone else call a doctor. Nobody understood anything of what I said until another student with very good English skills translated. Nevertheless, noone wanted to get a doctor because it was too expensive, so I offered to pay the charges and off they went, and I handed over 10'000 Kyats (more than enough) to the translating student with instructions.

In the meantime, the computer science professor had arrived, and took me to her office, where I found out that the university is already using Red Hat to teach some of their courses, that she's the vice president of the Myanmar Computer Professionals Association, and that she's also a member of the Myanmar Linux Users' Group. She set up a meeting for me with the founder of this group tomorrow morning, and I proceeded to show off Ubuntu's Live CD to her, and to explain the benefits of Debian over Red Hat, which she understood very well and seemed delighted, because "dependency hell" has been a major problem for them in the past. I left her with half a dozen CDs and information on how she could obtain more, then had lunch with two of the teachers (where I witnessed a monk drowning a fly into his soup while laughing! Imagine that!), who wouldn't let me pay no matter how hard I tried. Upon leaving the campus for the city centre an hour or two later, I was informed that the guy had recovered and was okay, and the officials gave me 3000 Kyats, which I suppose must be the return money from the doctor. Another instance of honesty.

I'll spend the afternoon strolling over the market to spend some of my excess Kyats (the rest of which will go to an orphanage), probably get another massage, and finally take in my last Burmese dinner, together with the Burmese white wine I had picked up at the vineyard on the way to Taunggyi, possibly accompanied by the Portuguese traveller I had met before in Bagan and Inle, who's now in Yangon as well...

... which is good, because I found a new argument pro beggars the other day, as I was resting at a street tea shop: I witnessed plenty of Burmese people handing money to a bunch of beggars on the other side of the street. One benefactor then came over to the tea shop, sat down at the table next to me, and answered my question as to why he just gave them money with a simple "because I have some at the moment, and they do not." To me, it could not have been more convincing, and by now, the only argument against supporting beggars is the one raised by the Portuguese: if begging is lucrative, people will give up their self-sufficieny in the countryside and come to live on the streets in the city, in the hope for more money. I'll be looking forward to tonight's discussion.

Tomorrow's my day of departure (after meeting the Linux Users' Group founder at the MICT park on the way to the airport), and I'll be in Bangkok for 24 hours before going home. And already the thought of Bangkok makes me sad, because it surely was a great trip in this lovely country, even though I wasn't always happy with how it turned out. I'll be back.

I find it amusing though, that they run the metal detector once down your body, and whether it beeps or not, that's all. It always beeps due to my cellphone, but they never made me take it out or felt it.

Airport security is similar. I have no problems taking my pocket knife in hand luggage, and they don't make a fuss about people putting things from their pockets into their bags, after they have been scanned, and before the body is searched.

Very effective.

On the way, I passed a pharmacy with a thermometer. It read 56 degrees, and it was in the shade of a tree. While I have no way of verifying its tare, I wouldn't be surprised; walking the 500 metres from the market to the bakery, I was literaly drenched in sweat.

If only I had a book left to read, then I'd have a simple solution to the question how to pass this day. There are no bookstores with any form of reasonable selection to be found here.

So this morning I went to buy electrolyte solution and drank a total of six litres before the cinema, and still have not had to go the bathroom. My body, which I can usually rely on very much in these parts (even to the point of digesting moderate amounts of the tap water here), must have been in dire need for salt and water. Now that it's refueled, it's not complaining anymore.

... which once again supports my theory that just water (with electrolytes at times) can cure way more bodily aches than the pharmacologists would like.

The movie itself didn't strike my fancy. Imagine Jackie Chan and Indiana Jones tossed in a tumbler, and out comes this flick, a tale of ancient warriors, gravity defiance inside hard to reach caves, and love, of course, all interlaced with some ridiculous fighting scenes. Call me cheap or boring, but I certainly do prefer Jackie Chan in the streets of Hongkong, battling the mafia or other gangster clans, running up walls, and fighting Kung Fu as opposed to lances and swords.

What made the movie an unforgettable experience nevertheless were the 499 Burmese in the room with me (or at least I could not spot another foreigner). The film was in English without subtitles, and most of the people (whole families, couples, little kids, elderly people) came for the fighting scenes and did not understand anything in between: most talked almost all the way through, the crowd growing louder as talking replaced the fighting, and their talk turning into rooting and laughing when Jackie picked up the sword again for the next butchery.

The couple next to me were seriously making out, skin contact included, while the three guys diagonally in front of me were obviously drunk and got even more so during the flick.

So in the end, I can't really say that I liked the movie, for I barely saw it. But I'll consider doing the cinema thing again, this time on the cheap seats down below, where the real party was apparently going on. "The legend of Zorro" strikes me as a good choice because it's probably pretty crap, judging purely from preview, actors, and director.

This brings back memories from previous trips... when I left my camera in a shop in Hanoi and the owner came running after me; when a streetboy ran after me because 5000 Vietnamese Dong dropped from my pocket; when just today, I accidentally used a 500 Kyat not to pay for a bottle of water (150-250 Kyats), turned to leave, and the seller stopped me to hand over the change.

I realise these are little things, and all the touts and cheaters you kind find in most larger cities here (especially Bangkok) aside, I would have to say that the honesty of the people (which is undeniably Buddhist) is one of the major reasons I keep coming back.

Update: this in from Mike Hommey:

I saw recently on Japanese TV that in South Korea, if you find a wallet, you can just drop it in a postal mailbox, and it will reach its owner within a few days. It also works for mobile phones.

One problem overshadowed the entire day, nevertheless, and I think it must relate to bad food the night before at the Four Sisters Inn in Nyaung Shwe (not meaning to badmouth them, such things can happen): Around noon, I started feeling nausea every now and then, and my stomach apparently meant to tell me that something's not right, my belly feeling hot to the touch. I was then sure I'd come down with another food poisoning, but so far (24 hours later), my body has not revolted yet and the symptoms are fading, so maybe it's strong enough to cope without sending me to bed for a day. Which would be rather unfortunate.

The hotel, which I prearranged over the Internet, is nice, and in a very good location. Upon arrival, I tried to score new reading material at one of the bookstores but found them closed already, so I ate some food at the market (not giving my stomach a break, really), had a couple of beers at a small bar, and finally fell asleep to a crap action movie involving a kidnapping and many cellphones on the TV, with the intention not to get out of bed until I could not sleep anymore.

And that I did. When I finally went to breakfast, it was almost 9 o'clock, which is averagely three hours later than the last two weeks, and tried to figure out what to do for the day. Of course, I am haunted by bad spirits because even here in Myanmar, which is not socialist (anymore), the first of May is still a holiday, meaning that most sights and shops (including the ENglish bookstore) are closed for the day. I'll thus consider just roaming the streets, getting out of the heat at noon to watch a movie at the cinema (which is supposed to be a big event on holidays), write some more blog entries, and then possibly hire a guide for Shwedagon Paya towards the evening, 2-3 hours before sunset.

Thanks for reading along.

It is true that I talk about this "mission" a lot, but it is also true that it means quite a bit to me, and that I am (or rather have been) going through some pains to accomplish it. And while I cannot deny a selfish component in what I am doing, the purpose is not PR, but rather the satisfaction I get from helping others. In that sense, altruism and egoism are very closely related for me.

Apart, I am posting my thoughts to my blog, which is read by two kinds of people: those interested in what I am doing, and the readers of Planet Debian. The first group are invited to read as much as they want, which is what makes blogs -- a pull medium -- a very nice vehicle for a travel diary. I realise that the second group, the readers of Planet Debian, are somewhat involuntarily subjected to what I write. I have been encouraged by many people to post travel impressions to Planet Debian, as well as others are encouraged by many (including myself) to post off-topic stuff as well. It adds to the diversity, and renders Planet Debian as a great means to support us all and adds to the values of our community (which is more than a bunch of geeks hacking away, but has quite a bunch of social components). In addition, Planet Debian readers are certainly experienced with deleting or ignoring posts they don't care about, so I do not feel particularly guilty or imposing. I hope that my feelings here are on spot.

This also means my stay here at Inle Lake is almost over, and I have not even seen the lake. That was a conscious decision, simply the weather is quite bad, rain in the morning, and a drizzle most of the afternoon, and without a view of the surrounding mountains, there really was little incentive to subject yourself to tourist treatment on a loud boat, while unable to move and getting soaked.

Despite the weather, I did pass a rather pleasant day yesterday. I joined the crowd at my hotel on a trip to Taunggyi, from where they continued to Kalak; I didn't have much interest in seeing this place, so I was to stay in Taunggyi and catch a bus back. Before we got there, though, we stopped over at a vineyard run by a German, which serves three "okay" wines made from French Shiraz and Italian Musquat grapes, which they grow here in Myanmar. After a wine tasting at 8:00 o'clock in the morning, we continued to Taunggyi, where is was raining unpleasantly, so I had only a short stroll across the huge market, then set off to find the cheroot factory (cheroots are a local type of cigarettes; see below), as well as the Shan museum and library. Unfortunately, all three were closed for the day, it being Saturday and market day and all.

If it hadn't been for a short encounter with the military, I would have to admit that my trip to Taunggyi was pointless. I have yet to find out what actually went on in Taunggyi, but it seems that some important government people got together, while the police and military secured the area around it. My bus was about to leave, so I insisted to go the direct route and found myself accompanied by five armed soldiers, walking in a pentagonal shape around me. As we passed the Pagoda with the convention, I dared to take a peek but was immediately commanded to keep my head straight and not look.

I caught the bus in time and enjoyed a one and a half hour ride back to Nyaungshwe, the town in which I am staying, perched on a rather small pickup truck with 31 other passengers. I guess you have to see it to believe it, but this sort of mass transport is common in most Asian parts, especially India.

I got back in time to run some errands (like post a little present to Eddy back in Pyin Oo Lwin) and met a canoe driver around 15:30 for a three hour ride among the canals running virtually everywhere in the town and through the rice fields. The first stop was another cheroot factory, where I was introduced to the art of rolling these local cigarettes. They use some rather coarse tobacco, roll it up in a bamboo leave, which is glued in place with glutinous rice. As filter, thin bamboo wood is rolled up tight and rolled together with the tobacco. It takes the women working at the factory around 15 seconds to make one cheroot; it took me almost 15 minutes to make one. :)

We continued, and my driver was all too keen about showing off the peculiar rowing style developed by the Intha people (those who inhabit the lake and surroundings) to decrease the strain on their arms: they stand on one leg, hold the padel in the arm on the other side, wrap the other leg around it, and then kick the padel in and through the water, while keeping a good balance. I wanted to try, but the driver would not let me, and it's probably better that way or else I would have most likely gotten really wet.

Returning from three hours of canoeing, my arms and back ached, and I was dreaming of a shower and a massage when I ran into the Portuguese globetrotter from Bagan by chance and we decided to have dinner instead. Ending a lengthy discussion with whiskey at around midnight, I struggled to find my way back home, the streets being completely unlit (we've been without power for a while), my torch back in the hotel, and the whiskey skewing my sense of direction. I did eventually find the hotel, must have passed it several times looking for the sign, and was all too ashamed to wake the owner to let me in.

My plan for this morning was simply to sleep in, eat breakfast, then go to the airport, but the couple next door to my room forgot to take the snooze function off their alarm clock before going to breakfast at 6:00, and with bamboo walls, the sound carried perfectly well. But I considered it no biggie, got up, ate, headed for a massage, and then was lucky to have some time to make arrangements for my next flight, after discovering the one I was supposed to take had been cancelled.

So now, with four hours to eat, I am happy to sample another serving of Shan delicacies, undecided between rice noodles with a semi-sweet seasoning of green tea leaves and peanuts, or a pumpkin curry with ginger.

Tonight, I'll be in Yangon, and I am looking forward to this city, having heard many great stories, and with some good references in my pocket. As always, stay tuned.

Following breakfast (Bamar-style Mohinga, a noodle soup with seafood and unidentifiable cracker-thingies I'll just call corn flakes for now, vegetables or whatever else the cook decided to put in -- I've developed a strong liking to this dish in the morning), I took a taxi to the airport to board my flight to Heho, from where I would continue to Inle Lake. I still travel on a budget, so you may be surprised that I am hopping around the country with planes, but the $22 I had to pay for this trip (incl. taxes) and the 10 hours I saved compared to the $8 bus ride were well worth it to me. After all, I only had a few days in this country and tried to maximise the exposure I experienced. One thing is for sure: I will come back. Pwin Oo Lwin was nice, but I did not manage to go further east; A day in Mandalay is surely not enough. Bagan didn't do much for me, so I don't think I'll return there, but Inle, as well as the countless regions I skipped, including the pictoresque and untouched beaches, really make me want to plan my next trip now already.

Arriving in Inle, it was raining, and the rains intensified towards noon. I am here to stay for two days, and the weather is unlikely to change, so after confirming that I could not take the next flight a day earlier, I bit the bullet, put on my rain jacket and sandals, rented a bike, and went off to visit the cultural museum, also known as the "Museum of Shan Chiefs" -- which was kind of disappointing. Set in a beautiful house (the sight of which was worth most of the $2 entrance fee), the items on display were scarce and almost exclusively labeled in Burmese. None of the folks working there seemed to be inclined to show me around, so after 20 minutes I left into the pouring rain, stopped by at a kitchen for a Burmese-style beef curry with jack fruit soup, and eventually returned to my hotel.

I am staying at the Aquarius Inn, a cute place with simple and clean rooms, a cozy porch, and a little garden out front. The staff, a girl maybe a little younger than me, is very attentive and speaks good English, studies geography at university, and took a particular liking to making me feel good for the two hours I decided to flip pages in Murakami's book on the front, bringing me tea, fruits, and little snacks on a continuous basis, always with a huge smile on her face, and eager to help organising whatever I would want to do during my stay in Inle.

But with the rain coming down non-stop, I am somewhat puzzled as to what I should do. The compulsory thing here is at least a day on a boat out on the lake, visiting floating villages, as well as the peculiar rowing style the people from this area developed -- using one arm and one foot instead of two arms --, hoping from floating market to floating market, and enjoying the scenery of the Shan hills surrounding the river. The Lonely Planet describes the places as a mirage. But with clouds and fod and water from above, it loses all its charm, and that's not because I fear getting wet. Not that I am bored or afraid of being bored, I'll just have to make sure to find some alternative programme, which could include spending the morning watching the market, reading, and talking to some fellow travellers who are in a similar situation as myself, but readily indulge in elaborate discussions on scientific topics, it seems.

This much as an update. Internet access here is even more difficult than in Bagan, so all the other thoughts I meant to push out to this blog have to wait until Yangon, Bangkok, or Zurich. Thanks for reading along.

PS: I don't think I'll travel with Lonely Planet again, it's just too inaccurate, and I disagree with their approach to research (e.g. not reconfirming facts researched a year before printing before the book goes to print), and happened upon too many errors this time around. Plus, I have sent them elaborate updates on four previous trips and have never heard a single word from them, no acknowledgement, thanks, nothing. Maybe I am spoiled by Open Source development. I have been recommended the Rough Guides, so I'll give those a shot for the trip to Debconf in Mexico.

My sadness comes from two aspects of this experience. The first, which is minor because I had expected it, was simply to (once again) witness the conditions under which the poorest of the poor live: in bamboo houses together with their cattle and pigs (everyone here seems well aware of bird flu and have taken the appropriate precautions; the government apparently did a good job in educating its people), with trash and feces all over the place, kids with almost no clothing and the elderly obviously sick from a distance. But I've actually seen worse in Laos and expected it, so that wasn't the main source of my tristesse.

What almost made my eyes water was rather the fact that in the first village of the two I managed today, my arrival and obvious wish to give out gifts resulted in fights among the kids, and in dishonest behaviour by some, while the mob was almost ready to run me over as everyone (including grownups) was stretching out the hand and grabbing at whatever I pulled out of my bag. Call me naive, but that part I did not expect. It's understandable, as for these people, anything makes a difference, sometime and existential one, but they are Bhuddist after all, and among the teachings of the Bhudda you can find such lines as "do not be dishonest", and its philosophy (which carries throughout many non-Bhuddist Asian countries) includes the rule to never lose one's face, which covers shouting or fighting.

On my first trip to Southeast Asia -- Vietnam -- I reached some remote villages in the Tonkinese Alps in the country's north -- villages which where equally poor, but which were also quite detached from civilisation as found around larger cities. While money still served as the main means of exchange, it appears to have a much lesser meaning to the people, who are mostly self-sufficient to a point of independence from the government as far as you can get (I guess). In these villages, I also passed out presents, but never had an experience such as the one today (nor did we experience something of this sort in some of the villages in Laos, equally removed from the main lines of infrastructure). Rather than fighting for the gifts, the kids would share them. Rather than tears, the gifts brought smiles. It thus seems that civilisation as we know it causes the competition even among kids, and that's the part that fills me with sadness at the same time as it disillusions me quite a bit, because that kind of civilisation will inevitably spread.

Going off on a tangent (without the intention to return), I have been thinking a lot about my "mission" in Myanmar, which was to bring clothing and medication, as well as gifts to the poor. While one could interpret this mission -- carrying more than 15 kg of "stuff" through the stifling heat -- as an altruistic act, I also cannot deny the selfish component, because I take great joy in helping people. If you recall, dropping off the clothing I had brought in a village a couple of miles outside of Pyin Oo Lwin didn't fill me with the satisfaction I had hoped to gain, mainly because I was obviously misinformed about Myanmar (btw: I am calling it Myanmar again, which is actually what locals use, unless they speak with tourists). Fortunately, however, I quite easily managed to accept that the mission was still a success for the people undoubtedly were helped quite a lot. If there is one thing I have learnt for sure this time around, then it's that I will return, sooner rather than later, and hopefully with a lot more goods than this time around.

This trip has been self-funded, which is why I am also (trying to) spend most time on vacation. I could well imagine that the next time might see me just running the goods there and fly back after only a couple of days. Of course, there are no details, but keep this in the back of your heads (and pass it on), just in case you'd be willing to donate funds to finance the trip.

This brings me to another, somewhat related topic, which I have been pondering ever since I arrived in Myanmar, and especially so after I met and talked to a Portuguese globetrotter, last night: the topics of beggars and how to support these countries in effective ways. Let me address those in turn, the second one first as it's more closely related to my braindump you just read (thanks for that), and because I am nowhere near a resolution and can thus sum it up in three sentences: even though individual aid trips, like the one I am on, are helping, I would guess their effectiveness to be quite low, and raising this effectiveness certainly requires a lot of effort and infrastructure. Thus, it may be more beneficial if I were to donate my will to help to an existing organisation already established and connected in the Southeast Asian countries. I am not talking Unicef and other, similar large organisations (some of which I do support already, and if only financially), but rather much smaller endeavours that concentrate on this area only -- surely the need for help exists in all developing countries, but I am most interested in helping Southeast Asia, for the people here have taught me so many valuable things that have changed my life.

On the first topic -- beggars -- let me say this much: if you've been to developing countries, you know what I am talking about. If you have not, just imagine all sorts of people (but mostly poor-looking) coming up to you with their hand stretched out, saying "money, money" repeatedly and not respecting a "no" in any way. Any guide book advises you not to give any money, because it will increase the "nuisance" these beggars are to future tourists. But at one point during my time here, I was as far as giving a small amount to everyone who came up (unless there were more around, at which point it would just get out of control too fast) by reason that it doesn't hurt me a bit, and that despite the syndicates and other arguments against it, if you are actually helping one out of ten beggars, that's one more than zero. Since then, however, I've found some more compelling arguments, and the one that's been the most persuasive so far is that a beggar's success attracts more beggars, and while the guide books call that a "nuisance", the real problem is that these people come from villages to cities, from places where they are self-sufficient (at least in Myanmar with its vast resources) to places where they'll end up sleeping on the streets.

Enough of that for now, you can be sure there will be more another time; on to something completely different:

This is the first time I am travelling Southeast Asia while blogging, and I have very mixed feelings about it. First of all, Myanmar isn't the place for easy Internet access, so it's been quite painful to keep publishing (which was only possible thanks to the help of Hanspeter back at home; thanks), nor is it the place where you'd be inclined to spend a couple of pensive hours in front of the screen while serialising your thoughts into writing -- the power keeps coming and going every couple of minutes, and frequently the battery-backed power supplies most people have cannot bridge the downtime.

But that's not the reason why I am not really too satisfied with my blog entries so far. I have found it difficult to write even in Thailand, where Internet access was excellent, and I guess it's mainly due to two reasons: first, there is too much going on outside and the fear of losing a minute of "street action" to these godaweful computers just keeps me from taking the time to think before writing. The second reason is related: impressions need time to settle, and I guess in some ways I do prefer very much to just "be", rather than experiencing with the objective to blog about it in the back of your head at all times (I am a geek after all, don't forget that). I guess I'll try it another time since having Aline along for the first part, and then being subjected to Myanmar's suboptimal information infrastructure, may be factors of larger value than I see them right now.

By the way: this blog does not contain all of my writings while I am here, for obvious reasons, so there is more to come if you are interested, but not via this channel. I'll let you know.

Now, on the boring side: I returned to the temples in the late afternoon yesterday and saw another three or four, before sprawling out on top of another in aspiration of the sunset to be Obscured By Clouds (which is when I talked to the aforementioned globetrotter for an hour or so). I did find that after all, Bagan didn't have much in store for me, having seen some of the temples at Angkor. The scenery is breathtaking, and some temples are really astonishing views, but as soon as you get on the inside, they are mostly walls and Bhuddas, one similar to the others, and thus quite unlike to what I'd seen in Angkor last year. Since I am also not the type of guy to go off meditating for a day in a remote location, or take my book far away to read in peace, I think that this one day between the temples was enough for me.

Maybe the temperature did play a role too, but there was no question for me: I was to do something else the next day (which is today), rather than go out again on that horse cart. I thus joined up with some Australian travellers on their overland way to their new home, London, and hired a taxi to Mount Popa, home of the 37 Nats (spirits) which are closely knit into the Burmese culture. After a 25 minute climb up steep stairs, I found myself again disappointed by a somewhat dirty and absolutely non-pretty stupa on the top of the hill. The view (and temperature) was great though, so no hard feelings, but also no time lost to head back to the hotel, to get on with the village hopping I had planned for the afternoon.

Tomorrow morning I am leaving for Hohe and Inle Lake, where it'll be much cooler (or so they say). Stay tuned.

PS: And of course, Murakami's novel is not called "Kafka at the Beach", as I wrote in yesterday's entry, but "Kafka on the Shore". I guess it must have been yesterday's intense heat causing that Freudian slip. Anyway, the book is truly captivating and I am afraid I'll zoom through those 600 pages faster than I'd like, given that it's the last of the books I brought. Hopefully I'll find something to pick up on the way that's not Agatha Christie, Dan Brown, Jane Austen, or the other wonderful writers of entertainment fiction, which I'd rather not read even if you paid me for it.

Given that my plans for the evening where set, I had to leave the place with my mission unaccomplished and headed for the Green Elephant restaurant, which the Lonely Planet describes as up-scale. For a whopping $7, I treated myself to beer, pickled ginger and green tea leaves, and butter fish in a tomato curry. Very delicious. Afterwards I attended the Mandalay Marionette & Culture Show, which was quite lovely despite the atonal music that came with it. Mandalay marionettes (or Myanmar marionettes in general) are very elaborately made, and the style to guide them is very unique to the country, the art having been the popular art back in the days when kings ruled the land. The artists are devoted to keeping this art alive, and you could really feel their enjoyment as they showed fights between ogres, princes and snakes, riding horses and trolling monkeys, princes engaging in "hackysack"-style football artistics (which is very popular over here, and people are rather good), as well as synchronised dances between marionettes and real dancers. I can recommend this show to anyone visiting (as I recommend to anyone visiting Hanoi to see the water puppet theatre) and am glad I chose this option over the "Moustache Brothers" performance, which is political satire and slapstick on the edge of legality. I ended the evening talking to some other travellers, most of which had no interest in listening to others but to tell their stories instead.

The next morning saw me rising at 4:30 to catch the ferry to Bagan at 6:00 o'clock. The boat had comfortable seats and a restaurant, and only a handful passengers, so the 10 hours went by reasonably fast (no comparison to the ride we took on the Mekhong last year to get from Chiang Khong in Thailand to Luang Phrabang in Laos). We arrived in Bagan on time and together with some Australians I found the May Kha Lar guesthouse (following again the Lonely Planet), which is a rather pleasant place with a lovely, elderly, English-speaking lady running it. SHe also arranged my further air travel for me and wanted about $30 less than the official booking offices. I decided to spend an additional day in Bagan, so I am heading out from here by plane on the 28th, going to Heho, then spending two and a half days at Inle Lake, and flying to Yangon on the 30th. From there, I am leaving for Bangkok on 4 May.

With the tickets in my pocket, I felt relieved, showered, and went for a traditional Burmese massage, which turns out to be completely different from the Thai style (which Laos and Vietnam copied more or less) and was rather painful, both because the lady literally tormented my legs far too long and spent only a very short time on my pained shoulders, and because neither the mosquito coils nor my repellents warded off the beasts as I was lying there out in the darkening sky right at dusk. No Malaria in this region, fortunately. Following a very traditional Burmese dinner (goat meat curry), I went to bed because...

... the next day I rose again at 4:30 to meet a guide, and left the hotel at 5:00 o'clock on a horse cart for a tour of the temples. Bagan is what could be called the heart of Myanmar, and on a 42 square kilometre area, you can find 2700 temples (of the 4500 originally built), dating back to the 10th century AD. Unfortunately, the wall carvings and paintings in most temples has been washed away, and it was nowhere near as fascinating to stroll along the endless corridors as it had been in Angkor Wat or Bayon Wat in Cambodia, but from the outside, these temples still look spectacular and are well preserved or restored. Also, climbing up on one or the other, the sight was almost overwhelming: a vast landscape of strupas and temples as far as the eye would reach, and all that under a lovely sunny sky. Haha. The "sunny" bit is what made me get up so early, because the temperatures are bearable only up until 11 o'clock or so. Between noon and 16:00 o'clock today, the thermometre measured 46 degrees Celsius -- I don't think I've ever been in a place so hot (if you leave out our trip to Death Valley in an airconditioned van.

So in order to escape the heat, I went to the archaeological museum at noon, then back to the city and into the swimming pool of one of the nicer hotels in town, which cost me $3 for a pool that was green (they don't have the money for chemicals), and the water about the temperature of my bathtub at home. I did not swim, but fortunately, the showers there were pleasantly cold, so I lay in the shade to read ("Kafka on the Short" by Haruki Murakami), taking a shower every ten minutes to cool down.

Going back to the hotel, I find the electricity to be gone once again. I think that this town (and Mandalay as well) has maybe 4 hours of electricity a day, it coming and going every few minutes (which makes computer use quite unpleasant). This also means that there is no aircondition most of the day, at least in the budget hotels which don't have their own generator.

I am meeting my guide again at 16:00 hours for another 2-3 hours, then will follow the hotel owner's suggestion for a "back massage expert", eat, sleep, and climb Mount Popa tomorrow morning. I'll try to get online again in the afternoon.

Thanks for reading along.

First, I visited the Chinese temple, followed by two Pagodas before fleeing the midday heat to the Be waterfall, where I first tried to get some food. Thankfully I have the Lonely Planet Burmese Phrasebook on me or else I would have had no chance, but eventually I ended up with some vegetables and rice, which at least did the deed. Following lunch, I went for a swim (which you are not supposed to do) in the waterfall pond, joining several dozens of Burmese cooling down. My attempts to dry and read where thwarted several times by excited folks doing almost everything in their power to get me back into the cold water. So I did.

Eventually, the heat lowered and I decided to head back to the city to find an Internet cafe, and meet Adam and Eddy for a visit to a remote village, but the first half of those plans were changed when by the side of the road, I saw an old monk carrying two heavy bags and offered him a lift. He gladly accepted and I took him about 10 miles off the main road, uphill on a dirt track until we reached his village where we were greeted by the other surprised monks, who subsequently invited me for tea. I enjoyed the time, although only the monk to whom I had offered the ride spoke English and did not deviate from his topic how much he hated the Japanese -- he had fought in the war against the Japanese 60 years ago.

On the way back I got lost several times but eventually managed to return the motorbike and make it to the lodge for a shower, before we drove off to the remote village. On the way I learnt that Burma is actually much richer than Laos or Cambodia, that noone in this country has to starve because of the vast amount of natural resources, but that poverty still exists all over the place, even though I found it to be not as extreme as back in Laos when I decided to come back with clothing for the children. But seeing (and being told) that the people in the village we visited were definitely among the poorest in the country, I decided to distribute the clothing I took along, which was well received and even documented on video by Eddy. Still, in the end, I was not completely satisfied because these village people were rich (albeit living in beaten huts and wearing torn clothing) as opposed to the ones who hosted my cousin and I 15 months ago in Laos. However, given that Pyin Oo Lwin gets very cold in the winter and the clothing I took was mostly warm clothing (like fleece sweaters and cord trousers), it was probably a lot better to leave it here rather than to take it to other (warmer) parts of the country. So now I am carrying an empty backpack with me, and the temptation to fill it with the many handicrafts and goods on sale here is almost unbearably high.

That night, Eddy's wife invited us to a traditional Burmese dinner at their house. Unfortunately, Adam felt a little sick and couldn't join, so I went alone for some excellent food and had to drink the bottle of Australian Sauvignon Blanc all by myself. I doubt thought that it was due to the elevated alcohol level of my blood that I thoroughly enjoyed the screening of some videos of traditional Myanmar martial arts, as well as videos from the water festival celebrated in the country at the same time as in Thailand. While Songkhran in Thailand was almost excessive, the Burmese put more value on tradition, and intersperse the soaking with traditional dances, which looked absolutely wonderful. I am sure to return, even though April really is not the month to come here -- it's boiling hot outside.

Now, back in Mandalay, I first embarked on a little expedition to the MICT, which is a computer centre with a bunch of schools in town, to distribute some of the Ubuntu CDs I had brought. It was good to know that most of the folks I talked to had heard of Linux, but that they never tried it because it's impossible to obtain. Now, almost a dozen CDs are with managing directors of various stores and schools, and they all know that they can freely copy them as many times as they like. If it turns out to be popular, maybe Canonical can arrange for a larger shipment to companies in this country, probably via Bangkok.

I am leaving Mandalay tomorrow for Bagan, taking an express ferry at 6:00 o'clock, which should get me there within 9 hours. I am unsure what's next, but after 2-3 days in Bagan, I will either fly to Hohe and visit Inle Lake, then to Yangon, or just make my way on land to Yangon immediately. Flights come in at about $50 each, so while cheap, I am not sure I brought enough cash with me to afford them. You cannot use credit cards or traveller cheques in Burma.

Stay tuned, and thanks for reading along.

The lodge is a beautiful British colonial house with great teak-floor rooms and most helpful staff, set in a very nice setting overlooking the lake up here. At $30 per night, it's actually above my budget, but given that so far I didn't pay anything for transport or food -- Adam and his friends have taken me around -- I am still within the bounds of the expected. And for sure, those $30 are worth it, I slept great, but woke for an hour to witness a giant storm followed by a downpour of really cold rain.

Saturday morning, we visited the local market and I made a reservation for my return flight from Yangon to Bangkok on 4 May. Then, following a recommendation by Adam's friend Eddy, I took a motorbike taxi to a nearby Bhuddist cave and some waterfalls. The cave was great and very unlike the ones we had seen in Laos. It extends several hundreds of metres into the mountain with a river running through it, but stairs and planks have been built everywhere, and there was plenty of light from bulbs hanging everywhere to illuminate the Bhudda statues.

Actually, being very close to the Shan state, which hosts the only people with a catholic religion, I was able to witness some statues of Jesus, and also some icons of Bhuddist images with clearly Christian tendencies, such as the halo, giving it all a very weird touch, or at least I cannot place it yet.

I returned for a longer chat with Adam and then set off to meet James, a former employee of the British government, who runs a computer school and was able to help me out with his satellite dish to at least allow me to send an email to a friend, who will hopefully publish my blog entries for me. Burma is really cut off, many websites are blocked, SSH seems impossible, as does HTTPS, so the sshd I had bound to port 443 is of no use to me. Also, my cellphone has no reception -- only local cellphones that cannot make international calls are allowed -- and telephone calls from the public booths are very unreliable (I tried a couple of times at least to reach my mother to say I am still alive), and a call to Germany comes in at $6 per minute and seldomly work.

My time online is short as I don't want to be a burden to James, and I also want some of his time to talk about Linux and computers in Burma in general. I left eight Ubuntu CDs with him and hopefully he can put them to good use. He seemed interested at least.

My further itinerary is beginning to solidify: I shall leave for Mandalay on Monday and head to Bagan on Tuesday, by boat, which a friend from college recommended to me when he read about my expedition. From there, I am considering to fly to Inle Lake and then take local transportation down to Yangon, where I want to spend four or five days.

That's it for now, thanks for reading along. I will write more about my impressions of Burma when I have more time, at the latest when I get back home.

In the checkin queue for Mandalay Air, I brushed up a conversation with the gentleman in front of me who turned out to be a regular visitor of Burma. He -- Adam -- supplied me with plenty of advice, and as we ended up sitting next to each other on the plane, he told me a lot about his business and the friends he was going to meet, eventually inviting me to come along to a lodge in Pyin Oo Lwin, east of Mandalay, for the weekend. Adam apparently knows the drills and by his side, I passed immigration and customs in a jiffy, without having my bags searched and no questions asked (not that I had anything to hide, but it saved us some time). His friends were waiting at the airport and gave me a ride into town (about one hour), dropping me off at a nice hotel right by the railway station. I am not yet decided whether and how long I will come along, but it's certainly a great offer, especially to get in touch with some of the people who could pull the right strings to help me in case of problems, or in the future facilitate further "clothing expeditions" into the country.

I am to meet them again for dinner in about an hour but decided to check out the town a bit on feet, as well as investigate the Internet situation. As it turns out, it's pretty much all locked, so if you end up reading this entry, it means I either found a backdoor, or managed to sign up a freemail account somewhere, and mailed it off to a friend with write access to my blog. In Pyin U Lwin, I am supposed to meet James, a British expat who runs the only computer in the town, so maybe I'll be more lucky there. He'll surely be an interesting person to talk to with respect to the Linux CDs I brought along, and the Internet in Burma in general. It's a shame I did not set up a DNS tunnel before the trip, but the connection seems too slow anyway. Oh well, good thing I bought that USB stick!

Mandalay so far strikes me very similar to the outskirts of Bangkok or Hanoi, I have not encountered too much poverty yet, but it's generally dirty and loud. I will probably not spend too many days here, but am always flexible to go along with what comes around.

I do find myself stared at a lot more than I am used to from other countries on this side of the globe. Usually it takes them a while longer to respond to my smile, but if they do it is generally followed by an invitation to come sit with them. "Generally"... ha! I've only just come here, we'll see what time brings.

Stay tuned.

We hired a motorcycle Monday night and rode around the town for a while, finally ending at an Italian restaurant for dinner. Aline is half Italian, and not quite as promiscuous as myself when it comes to Thai food, and had I known how much joy even my willingness to eat Italian in Asia would have caused in her, I may well have gone easier before on my motto not to eat anything but the local food. Dinner was quite good, although the wine (they only had one open white, red wine was not an option for me in the heat) again met confirmed my dislike of Chardonnay: it's oily and sour, or at least I have not yet had a taste of a different one.

With the motorcycle waiting for us downstairs, I was unable to stay in bed for long, and we got up early the next morning to head to the Mae Sa waterfalls in a national park just 30 kilometres north of Chiang Mai. After a bit of zig-zag navigation, trying to get out of the city which has just a little too many one-way streets for foreigners, we didn't have any more problems reaching the site, disembarked and hiked around a bit until after about 30 minutes we got to one of the falls with a lot of Thai (no tourists whatsoever) bathing and trolling about in the water. We joined, of course. With the plan to drive further north to visit the "Hmong Lodge" and another waterfall, we walked back and I could not believe it when my pocket did not contain the motorcycle keys anymore. Damn. Once again I felt foolish that I just cannot seem to keep my stuff together, and I punished myself running back to the falls while Aline was already making arrangements for our rescue. Fortunately, I eventually did find the keys just in time to call off the arrangements, and -- soaked in sweat -- we were on the road again. I really should exercise more.

About 30 minutes of a beautiful ride down into the park, we reached the "Hmong Lodge", only to find it to be nothing more than an overpriced lodge, offering its guests "local culture" in the form of shows and displays of Hmong handicraft work. We enjoyed the most expensive beer of our trip up there, then turned around and stopped at another waterfall, where a bunch of Thai youth had assembled. With a subtle intention to crash their party, we joined, but the heavy rain that started after a few minutes drove those intentions away. After spending 15 minutes-or-so sheltered in a hut with some of the Thai and making almost no contact, we took off and rode the bike back to Chiang Mai, stopping by one of the cinemas and deciding to spend the evening watching "Ice Age 2".

We got back to the hotel just in time to meet our tailor to fit the shirts, trousers, skirt, and jacket we had ordered, sending her back with quite a few changes to be made. Then, with an hour left to kill, we opted for a massage before the movie and headed into the shop we thought the hotel owner had recommended. Turns out that we took the wrong door, and while Aline was getting a good knead, I found myself under the incapable hands (and feet) of an overweight Thai woman, who apparently seemed to think that litres worth of massaging oil would somehow obscure her inability to massage muscles and instead apply moderate pressure to my bones only. I told her a bunch of times but really only made it worse -- in the end I must have upset her to a point where she started bouncing up and down on me with the clear intention to torture and eventually murder me... but fortunately the 60 minutes were over just in time.

The movie theatre itself wasn't spectacular (and I didn't think the movie was either), and if it hadn't been for the national anthem and some low-budget film flashing pictures of the King, while everyone stood and paid due respect to him, I'd have said it was just another cinema night I'll quickly forget. At 70 Baht entrance fee (about 1,40 EUR) it didn't hurt either.

The evening ended as we met some folks from a bar back in Ayutthaya and chatted for a while, learning that the Thai elections are on today (Wednesday), and as a result, no alcohol is served in the city throughout that day, as well as after 18:00 o'clock the night before. Tough luck for them, especially after we succeeded in getting another can each while they did not. The trick is simply to take the beer out of the fridge and hand over the money without asking questions.

So today, our last day in the city, was supposed to be museum day, with the tribal museum, the national museum, and possibly even the insect museum on our list. Negotiating with a tuk tuk driver for the right price, it then occured to us that it's cheaper anyway to hire a motorcycle at 200 Baht/day (4 EUR) -- and way more fun -- so we again hired a bike and drove off to find the museums closed due to the elections. Not that this upset us in any way; we rode back to the hotel, spent the hottest hours of the day reading by the pool, and went for another cruise in the afternoon, returning again just in time to meet the tailor a second time; while my shirts and trousers are fine (and beautiful), Aline's skirt needed yet another modification, so we are expecting her again tomorrow.

By the way: yesterday we rode a Yamaha Mio 125cc automatic bike, and today I settled for the Honda Dream 125cc manual, which I had ridden before in Laos and which seemed like a good bike. If I ever have the choice again, I would certainly go with the Yamaha, which was a joy to ride, especially since this has been only my third time on a bike.

Now, the last night in Chiang Mai will probably see us dining somewhere, packing, running the last errands, and sleeping in, so we can actually make it to the airport tomorrow in time and rested. I hope I'll be able to continue writing from Burma. Apparently, network access is restricted, so I fear I may have some difficulty logging into my servers. However, I bought a USB stick today, and with that, and maybe A Little Help From My Friends back in Zurich, I can publish entries nevertheless. Stay tuned.

Preceeded by strong winds, the rain on Saturday caused everyone to hurredly pack up their booths, leaving the wonderful markets deserted that night. Fortunately, Sunday's rain wasn't so strong, and the famous Sunday night market in Chiang Mai did take place after all -- when the first showers had settled, almost all merchants came back out onto the road and the shopping could continue.

I witnessed a funny moment on the market in the afternoon: the speakers, which are installed on almost all lamp post and sometimes blast horrid music onto the streets, started playing the national anthem. In response, everyone stood up and still for its duration, almost as if time had been frozen. When the last chord stroke, the the people continued at what they were doing and the familiar buzz was quickly restored.

We spent yesterday in cooking school, the same one I had been to a year before: the "Thai Chocolate Cookery Centre", which I can recommend to anyone. I chose this place again because I did not want to run the risk of ending up at one of the tourist ripoff places, but next time I shall try a different one; apparently there's a cooking school outside the city on a farm, where yuo get to harvest all herbs and fruits yourself prior to the cooking, instead of the market tour commonly done in the beginning of the day.

On our way home, stuffed after 8 dishes of Thai food spread throughout the whole day, we stoped by our guesthouse from last year: the "Chiang Mai Garden Guesthouse", to say hello to the owner, Pissamorn. I was happy to find her remembering me, and all the more happy when she honestly advised us not to try "just any bamboo rafting" -- I had been spoiled by the trek she organised for us last year, which involved a morning of bamboo rafting down a river from the middle of the jungle, which you cannot reach by car. I have no problem believing her that the other travel agencies which organise rafting trips dump you just somewhere along a road on slower rivers with a far less beautiful scenery. Unfortunately, neither time nor the heat really allow us to go on the three day trip through the jungle, so we postponed the rafting to our next trip.

Nevertheless, I feel very good about having Pissamorn as a reliable contact in Chiang Mai, for future trips, and in case of any problems! She also referred us to a Thai silk factory and told the owner to treat us with respect, so today (Monday), we let them pick us up and placed an order for a bunch of comfy trousers, and some silk button-down shirts; Aline got herself a nice blouse and a wonderful dress.

We now have two and a half days left in Chiang Mai and have no real plans. A 1-2 day trip to Pai still seems like an option, but it's supposed to be unbearably hot up there. We'll see.

A keep having recurring thoughts about my dream to move to Southeast Asia (Hanoi, to be exact) to start a computer school, and even though there are no concrete plans yet, I feel like my motivation to finish the Ph.D. rather sooner than later is on a steep incline. I could imagine tearing down my "tents" in Switzerland and to go to Vietnam for half a year or a year of language school, then see whether I manage to meet the right people to allow me to set up an existence. Alongside the computer school, my dream includes visions of a nice and comfy guesthouse where you get what you pay for, concentrating on quality rather than quantity, which by the way is what the Chiang Mai Garden Guesthouse seems to be doing. For me, that's the only way to go about anything if you want success and satisfaction, be it consulting, teaching, or a guesthouse in Asia.

Again, thanks for reading along.

We returned to the city for another round of splashing bveefore stopping over at Julie's Guesthouse, the place where I was to meet a lady running clothing and other support items to refugee camps. It turns out that this is a programme by D.A.R.E., in which her guesthouse participates, running the goods to the Burmese refugees living in Thailand. The clothing I had brought along are destined for people in Burma though (there is surely an equal need), so I guess my options are down to a single one: take them with me, skip the monestary, and travel the country myself.

So today I went ahead to buy my next two air tickets: I am flying out of Chiang Mai to Mandalay on the 20th, and I return to Bangkok from Yangon on the 4th of May. That will give me more or less 13 days in Burma (I am calling it Burma now, not Myanmar, since that is what the Burmese and the Thai people use) to get from Mandalay to Yangon, and having heard a bunch of times now that travel within Burma isn't all that easy, I figured out a way to do it: I shall spend a few days in Mandalay and meet some people, then hopefully find a student with good English skills to embark with me on the journey, meaning I will pay travel and hotel expenses for him/her, in addition to a flat, daily "wage".

Until then, Aline and I have 4 full days left in Chiang Mai, so the 1-2 day trek has once again risen high in my list of priorities. Tomorrow, we are going to cooking school, and there is also rock climbing, a go-cart track, and various other things to keep us occupied.

Thanks for reading along.

Following the touchdown few minutes after takeoff, we sought out a couple of guest houses and finally settled at the Awana Guesthouse, which also offered a pool, although on seeing it, it's more like a bath tub for 5 people. Whatever...

I used the morning hours, during which the Thai appeared to be still sleeping to run two most important errands: first, getting my ear unclogged, and second, picking up the bag with clothing from the train station. Our guesthouse referred me to the Chiang Mai Ram hospital, a privately run clinic, and once I got there (still dry), I didn't get to read as much as a single page in my new book (The Crying of Lot 49 by Thomas Pynchon) until I was lying flat and had an English-speaking doctor examine me. He told me that the Thai put some sort of stuff (I did not understand the name of the substance) into their pools, which causes European ears to clog up frequently, and after 15 minutes of routine, I was able to hear again on my left ear. I paid just short of 20 EUR for the cure and felt so good about it and the hospital that I talked my way up to the management to make a donation -- in the amount of the estimated difference between those 20 EUR and the amount I would have had to pay in Switzerland. They said that I was the first person to ever make a donation to the clinic, the other foreigners usually only complain about the high prices. Go figure about the kind of tourist who frequents Chiang Mai.

Speaking of tourists, unfortunately, this place is crowded with Europeans, and not just any of them, but the worst kind. For me, dress code means a lot, and when I see Europeans without shirts, or women in bikinis in a Bhuddist city, I sometimes wonder why these people don't simply stay home. Of course, tourism is the number one source of income for about 70% of the Thai, so it's just as well that they come, but then they should not be complaining about medical care for 20 EUR, or bargain to the minimum price for handicrafts, or annoy themselves that the tuk tuk driver just "ripped them off" by charging 60 instead of 40 Bhat (again, around 1 EUR).

Cured, I made my way for the station and almost made it there dry, if it hadn't been for that damned pickup van closing in from behind and hunting my taxi for several hundred metres, just to get a shot. At the station, I took some detours to find the cargo terminal, but was then surprised at how easy it was to claim the bag, even without the receipt (which, if you will remember, was in the wallet I had lost a couple of days ago). I am really relieved, once for the clothing, and second because the bag itself was lent to me by a friend (forgive me, HP). By the time I left the station it was about noon, and there was water everywhere, but I made it to the hotel almost dry. The Thai duly respect if you have a bag, smoke a cigarette, hold a cellphone, or simply wave your hand. It goes without saying that the two massive splashed I received nevertheless were from tourists, who must have reached some sort of overpowering state of joy and didn't care about what they sprayed. When I saw some tourists splash buckets onto a couple of old people (which is a no-do), I was really ashamed.

The New Year festival in Chiang Mai is said to be the biggest and most lively all over Thailand. I met Aline back at the hotel and we headed out into the centre city for yet another day of soaked clothing, and we can probably agree that the "festivities" here are second to none. This time, following the bad experience of the inferior position of a water gun on a motorcycle, we bought two puckets and got up on one of the pickups with some Thais and Burmese people speaking excellent English, and had excellent fun for an hour or two -- gettting no further than 200 metres along one of the rivers or so -- there was no driving on the roads which were filled with people and vehicles, just not touching each other, and there was water everywhere with people getting fresh canisters from the rivers all the time.

We then remembered that we were wearing our last set of clothing, the other stuff being laundered and ready for pickup tomorrow, so we disembarked the truck and headed out of the city to the market in hope to find some trousers to wear, but short of a Sarong for Aline, there was nothing striking our fancy (which, mind you, isn't high. I just don't want to be wearing thick jeans in this weather). Anyway, the trousers we were wearing had dried in the mean time, and now the challenge was to make it back to the guesthouse without being splashed again -- and quite a difficult endeavour it was, but we almost succeeded, only soaking up another litre each, which, believe me, was peanuts by then.

Sorry for this somewhat unexciting entry. Starting tomorrow, we'll break with the festival as we've had enough of water for the time being. On our list are a day of cooking school, the zoo, a 1-2 day treck in the hills, a seminar with monks, and, of course, a bunch of the temples of the city. Thanks again for reading along.

The idea of the Thai massage is that of "passive yoga." The masseur (or more likely, the masseuse) will knead your muscles beyond the point of comfort (unless, of course you tell them to keep it down, which I never did). They will bend your body, stretch it in ways you didn't think possible, crack your joints, rearrange your spine, and finally massage your head as if they are trying to make up for all the pain.

However, all this is very bearable. What kills me each time I let a Thai massage me is the fact that the Thai apparently don't have hairs on their legs and arms. I do, however, and it's kinda hard to relax and breathe calmly while these hairs are being pulled every time he (or she) grabs part of my leg (or arm) to knead or twist it.

But I'll do it again, and I recommend everyone who has the chance to try it -- at least once.

But let me start where I left off: Phitsanulok. Following the recommendation of the director of the lower northern Thailand Tourist Authority (TAT), we spent the evening by the river running through Phitsanulok, where the Thai were celebrating the "food festival" -- it seems to me that the Thai, or Southeast Asian folk have a festival for almost anything to make it around the year...

The road along the river was banked with little booths selling just about everything, from edible to handicrafts, with fair booths offering games such as darts, jumping castles, and live bands in between. Strolling around, we had a bite of the most appealing things -- I did stay away from roasted cockroaches, maggots, and other bugs this time, for I had already sampled them in Vietnam and felt no particular need to repeat the experience, although it was not revolting back then at all: it's just a little meat with a lot of crust that you don't want to eat, and the taste isn't particular. An excellent meal of noodles with some sort of sweet-spicy sauce, together with a beer and the company of some young Thai boys ended the evening for us and we returned to our hotel rather soon, with the intention to get up early to finish our errands and make a run for Sukhothai.

So with our plane tickets and some fresh cash, we set out for "Sgt. Tawnee's Folklore Museum", a private collection of traditional Thai "things" -- tools, traps, toys, instruments, clothing, ... just about everything... Sgt. Tawnee was a poor soldier who realised that people were forgetting about how their ancestors went about to solve everyday's problems and consequently started collecting anything and everything -- a truly remarkable and beautiful collection! After a so-so Thai massage (see forthcoming blog entry), we quit the city by bus to arrive in Sukhothai about an hour later, where we were met by the pickup van of the guesthouse we had booked, also following the recommendation of the TAT director: we are staying at the Ruean Thai Guesthouse, a place with cozy rooms, a swimming pool, and very friendly staff, for about 10 EUR a night -- the best guesthouse I have been to in three vacations in Southeastasian countries, three thumbs up, I can recommend it to anyone coming to the area!

We had just settled and taken a shower when the hotel clerk notified us that the director was waiting downstairs to take us to the "light show". We boarded his van, together with his family and colleagues, and drove about an hour to Srisatchamalai Historical Park, where we arrived just in time to witness an impressive ceremony, part of the New Year celebration: old people were sitting in rows on chairs, and younger folk passed from one to the next, pouring drops of water into their hands as a form of respect to the elderly to help them stay cool in the dreadful heat of the month. Naturally, we lined up and did as the others did -- and found us filmed and greeted by a television crew afterwards for an interview.

Not wanting to be a burden to the director and his family, we followed the suggestion to stroll around in the park for about an hour, until we returned to the agreed meeting point. There, we found that mats had been rolled out on the lawn in front of one of the temples, and maybe 200 Thais were sitting and dining. The director invited us to join them, and we enjoyed Thai cuisine until dusk, when everyone got up for the national anthem and the show began.

At first, a famous Thai singer (so we were told) performed a couple of folk songs and we learnt that, (to my knowledge) unlike European folk songs, the Thai sing songs telling real events in history. A fashion show of old, traditional Thai clothing followed, and finally, the stage was set for a performance of the history of Sukhothai. People were all over the place, fighting, dancing, or just "ruling" (as the king(s) would do), and a voice recounted the story, which one of the director's daughters translated for Aline, I was busy taking pictures. Fireworks accompanied the scene, along with flying objects consisting of a real flame underneath a balloon made of rice paper. Most flew high and far away, some got stuck in trees and went up in flames. After the show, I had a chance to see some of the costumes and must say that I am deeply impressed, not only by how Thai people used to dress, but also by the love and care the people put into the show to make it as authentic as possible. Interestingly, only one other tourist ("fallang") was at the event, something the tourist director wants to change in the future -- good thing we witnessed the "pure event"... I seem to prefer places not frequented by tourists, and in the Thais seem to be continuously surprised that we are not heading for the beaches in the south following our time in the north. Back at the hotel, we fell into bed, exhausted from the day and the nightswim in the pool.

I got up this morning to find my ear clogged with water -- must have been the late swim. The guesthouse owner insisted to take me to a pharmacy to find some eardrops, and I hope this nuisance will go away soon.

We rented a motorcycle for the day and headed in direction of the old Sukhothai city, or the Sukhotai History Park, as it is also called. Waiting for our photo chip to be beamed to CD, we made our first encounter with the way young people like to celebrate the New Year (which officially started today): all over the city, people rode around on the back of pickup trucks, emptying buckets of water over other people. We bought ourselves a water gun and plunged in for the fun. It didn't take 30 minutes until we were soaked, but nothing could stop us. The old city is maybe 10 kilometres away, and the drive was the most unforgetable motorcycle ride I'd ever had: all along the sides of the road, people were filling buckets and splashing everything that passed -- being on a motorcycle with merely a water gun, and as "fallang" (foreigners), we were naturally the primary target for just about everyone, so by the time we had reached the city, we had soaked up half an ocean each. We stopped by a group of kids, gave our water gun to the smallest one, bought a new one, and teamed up with them to fight the passing vehicles. Oh what fun!

Dripping, we made our way to the park after a while, and strolled around some temples, the market, and many more water fights. Even though the water obscured the heat, we still didn't feel like taking the barrels of water we had collected for a walk and didn't last too long before we were on our way back, destined to stop again with our allies (the kids) to make sure no car and no passenger got by unwashed. The Thai also crumble up chalk, mix it with water, and smear it into each other's face -- you can imagine how we looked like after a few minutes: soggy and chalked.

Finally, we made a run for the hotel and got back at about 16:00 o'clock for the first time of feeling "dry" in eight hours. Now, after some time at the pool, we are