Ha Long Bay, Vietnam

Ha Long Bay

Good morning Vietnam! Folks, this is the end of my blog. As you know, a roving anthropologist’s business is a solitary one requiring time to personally engage and reflect. I had hoped it might be possible to continue the blog through Vietnam, Cambodia, Myanmar, and Singapore, but with Debra, my wife, and Nick, my friend, now here; it’s impossible to proceed in the same vein. We’re just having too much fun cavorting about, seeing the sights, enjoying local cuisines, and bantering with the locals for me to take my job as a roving anthropologist seriously. So from Ha Long Bay in Vietnam, one of the most beautiful places you will ever want to find yourself, made even better with the people you love, Tạm biệt! Goodbye! See you next year, wherever that might be.

Caveat Emptor

“You want to go to Grand Palace? Only 50 Baht.” “No, I was there yesterday.” “I take you to a place to buy a nice suit?” “No, I don’t need a suit.” “You want pretty lady?” “No, but could you tell me where there might be a travel agency in the area.” “Yes, yes, I know a good place. You nice guy, I take you there free, no charge.” “Really? Free?” “Yes. Yes. Get in!” I jump in the back of the tuk tuk and off on a high-speed race through the side streets and alleys of Bangkok. We arrive at a small, but official looking travel agency, with a lot of travel posters, flight and tour price listings. “I wait here for you.” My tuk tuk driver says. “Sawadee Ka,” the lady at the first desk says. “Sawadee Krab,” I reply. “I’m wondering if you could help me with accommodations in Phuket or Phi Phi Island?” “Yes. Yes. My name is Micky. I can help you.” She pulls out a notepad and scribbles Phuket at the top of the page. “How much do you want to spend?” “My wife and I would like a 5-star hotel, if possible.” “No problem!” She pulls out a glitzy brochure with pictures of Phi Phi Island straight from Leonardo DiCaprio’s “The Beach.” “Wow, is that available?” “Yes, very busy season, but I know the owner and can get you a beach front bungalow for a very good price.” She pulls out her calculator. “50,000 Baht.” I figure about $555 per night. That’s a lot for Thailand, but it’s actually less than two other quotes I got at the airport tour agencies in Chiang Mai and Bangkok. “What do you have for Phuket?” She quickly produces another glitzy brochure of a 5-star hotel with a beach-front ocean view on Patong Beach. “30,000 Baht.” We negotiate. For 39,000 Baht, I end up with one night on Phi Phi Island and two nights on Patong Beach, airport transfers and ferries included. Micky swipes my credit card and the deal is closed. With that done, I need a place, maybe in Pattaya, where I can wait until Debra (my wife) arrives. “Pattaya, yes, of course, I have a nice 4-star, beach front hotel, in Pattaya.” “How much?” “You nice man, I give you a special rate, only 15,000 Baht.” The place looks perfect. I say, “10,000 Baht.” She says, “I can do 10,500 including transfer to and from Pattaya.” I take it and pay in cash. The next day the crammed non-air-conditioned bus ride to Pattaya gives me the first indications that I’ve been scammed. The hotel confirms my suspicions, a 3-star hotel at best, twenty minutes from the beach, and a room that has no windows. I call Micky. “You told me you wanted a cheap hotel room,” She says. “That’s what I got you. There are no refunds.” I protest, “No, that’s not true. You told me that the hotel was a 4-star hotel on the beach. What about the hotels in Phi Phi and Phuket are they also not 5-star hotels and on the beach as you represented?” She suddenly becomes incoherent and pretends she doesn’t understand anything I’m saying. She keeps saying, “I got you what you wanted. There are no refunds.” She hangs up. I decide to go online and research the hotel in Phi Phi and Phuket. The hotel in Phi Phi doesn’t exist and although the hotel in Phuket does exist, it’s only a 3-star hotel with some terrible reviews. Nevertheless, I call the hotel in Phuket to see if they have reservations for us. They do not. I send Micky email and text messages detailing my concerns and asking for her help in remedying the situation. She doesn’t respond. Debra arrives in Bangkok a few days later and the next day we fly to Phuket. As we suspect, there’s no one at the airport to greet us. We ask a taxi driver to call Micky for us on his cell phone. Micky answers the phone, “You cancelled your reservations!” “What are you talking about? I did not cancel the reservations and if you cancelled our reservations, where is our refund?” “You cancelled the reservations!” “What about our refund then?” She pretends not to understand and keeps saying, “You cancelled the reservations.” I am unable to budge her and she hangs up on me.

On Writing

Pattaya Beach

Mr. Turtle engages in a conversation with one of the local rats you see scampering up and down the palm trees on the beach in Pattaya. “What I really want to be is a writer,” the rat moans to Mr. Turtle. “So, what’s stopping you?” “I don’t have enough experience. I’m only twenty.” “That’s no excuse. I’m ninety and I don’t think my experience counts for squat, but I write anyway.” The rat looks down at the piece of chewing gum in his paw and sadly says, “Nobody will read what I write,” “Does that really matter?” Mr. Turtle sternly replies. “Write for yourself. If you’re writing for others, you will never get started.” “But where will I get the material?” “Hey, look around, observe and listen — your narrative will unfold in front of you. Look at that banyan tree over there, describe it in a sentence and see what happens.” “But I spend my days climbing up and down these darn palm trees and at night don’t have the energy or creativity to do anything else.” “Oh my, take it in small chunks then. Somerset Maugham, you know that British author, wrote just 300 words a day and look at what he accomplished. Anyway, One sentence, well written, is better than reams of bullshit.” “That’s exactly what I’m afraid I’ll end up with, bullshit.” “That’s okay too. You may discover some sweet kernel of truth in all that bullshit. Find it and throw the rest out.” The imagery seems to work. The rat responds, “This truth of yours, it almost sounds like something I can eat.” “It is, almost. For me, it’s the sweet essence of writing.” “And how do you do get at it?” “Write honestly for one thing. Don’t hold back. Don’t be afraid of offending. On a practical level, I want every paragraph to bear a kernel of truth. That’s my objective anyway. Sometimes, I admit, I get hung up on the details or facts of my encounters. They’re important, of course, but I don’t want them to get in the way of the truth.” “Interesting, but I’m not sure it’s something that will work for me. You see, I’d like to write a novel.” “Maybe you’re right, my friend, your challenge then is to come up with a story line, real or imaginary, but once you’ve done that, the rest of what I’ve said still applies. You’re left with peeling away at the truth of that story line. You should remember though, the old saw you’ve probably heard, ‘Don’t tell, show,’ is the best way to get at the truth because following that advice you’re more likely to tap into the power of your readers’ imagination and if you can do that, you’re really onto something.” “Okay, thank you so much Mr. Turtle. I’ll keep what you’ve said in mind, but now I need to get back up this tree. It’s lunch time.”

Sex Tourism

Pattaya Night Scene

“No, she doesn’t know. She thinks I work at a 7-Eleven,” the smartly dressed lady in her early thirties tells me as she pulls out a picture of her daughter. “She looks Caucasian.” “Her father’s from Texas. Now, do you want to go boom boom or not?” “No, as I said, I just want to ask you some questions.” “Then buy me a beer.” “How much?” “110 Baht.” “I just bought a beer for 55.” “It’s 110 for us girls.” “Can I ask you some more questions then?” “Okay, but better we go to your hotel room and spend the night. I treat you real well. You see.” “How much?” “One thousand for me and three hundred for my boss [about $43]” “No, I’ll buy you a drink instead and we’ll talk.” She motions to one of the ladies sitting in the bar to bring her a beer. “Your English is very good. How is it you speak such good English?” “I lived in Texas for two years before I left my husband who was too weird for me.” “You have just the one daughter?” “Yes.” “And this is your only job?” “Yes, but it’s really slow right now. I have had only three men this month.” “Why is that?” “It’s not the season and there’s just so many girls working now. Too much competition.” “How many women would you say do this sort of thing?” “Hmm, thousands.” “Can you be more exact?” “Well, let’s see, there are maybe 120,000 people living in Pattaya, half of them are women, and at least half of them work in this business.” “So about 30,000?” “Yes, I’d say, at least that many. Can we go now to your hotel?” “No, I’m sorry,” I lie, “My wife is waiting for me back there and I need to go.” I finish my beer and as I leave, she smiles and gives me a little wave goodbye.