tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62277124458392824852024-03-08T10:36:13.503+08:00Travel Ahoy!travel now, save laterUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger74125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-52574761754015359312008-05-14T01:38:00.000+08:002008-05-14T01:39:22.090+08:00the Praha metro<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjPsPkqfVt8WwfdIoesIUIFTl7Y7F_ZjFcsg78IUjw3v-2PF0YZ2Tc0Y_aCgQdL48hOP3Hi4jbTegD1xzmCl6u17Yl5eYYwzmyuu3__wq07UOtgkgDAWP_xmKeRcD2E6WrcqXDwxfZNYM/s1600-h/praha+station.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjPsPkqfVt8WwfdIoesIUIFTl7Y7F_ZjFcsg78IUjw3v-2PF0YZ2Tc0Y_aCgQdL48hOP3Hi4jbTegD1xzmCl6u17Yl5eYYwzmyuu3__wq07UOtgkgDAWP_xmKeRcD2E6WrcqXDwxfZNYM/s400/praha+station.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5199917409058432658" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">one of the very cool-retro-sexy-funky-striking subway stations in Prague. Different stations had different colour schemes (one was all gold!), though not all stations had this. I loved them.</span><br /></div>shakesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09909618523276874061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-76710129886039527042008-05-05T10:02:00.000+08:002008-05-05T10:03:59.225+08:00sleep well..<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMoBKLeoKXW2MILUlskPa91P_bfoC_qlTUcT1rNJEUeVgFwKCXKwzPWvQgLRYkWNaqifLIR-k5Fv0H0A2YhmvZuIzEOWcfh7sJk5F6VixPWLAtdzmgFKUKLDBHe6NcElT0iipz7HjUMUA/s1600-h/halongbay+by+night.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMoBKLeoKXW2MILUlskPa91P_bfoC_qlTUcT1rNJEUeVgFwKCXKwzPWvQgLRYkWNaqifLIR-k5Fv0H0A2YhmvZuIzEOWcfh7sJk5F6VixPWLAtdzmgFKUKLDBHe6NcElT0iipz7HjUMUA/s400/halongbay+by+night.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5196706961279046418" border="0" /></a><br />We stayed on a boat one night, when we visited <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Halong_Bay">Halong Bay</a>, about 3.5 hours from Hanoi. The UNESCO World Heritage Site is a large bay with innumerable limestone formations that are little islands poking out of the water. Its not quite certain how they are formed, though there is,mostly, a consensus that they are spectacular. (There are 0ver 3000 such islands including those in adjoining Cat Ba National Park)<br /><br />We cruised around on the boat, ate, chilled, kayaked, and at night the boat was anchored at this spot, designated for boats to bob around overnight. It was quite beautiful, despite the occassional waft of diesel fumes and very distant (and very occassional) sound of a karaoke from one of the boats who believed that was the best way to spend your evening in such a beautiful place. It was a unique experience, and quite something else.shakesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09909618523276874061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-25918655280859848402008-04-21T16:26:00.005+08:002008-04-26T12:36:58.537+08:00Bia<span class="”dropcaps">T</span>he chairs squeak, almost bent out of shape by your weight. They are made of plastic, just like the tiny low stool in front of you that serves as a table. That plastic is worn, even a little stained. Your legs squeeze because you are low. But you could just stretch them out, resting on the edge of that greyness of the road. Then rest back on the only slightly precarious little chair and sip some cool beer. Its fresh, its tasty and its dirt cheap.<br /><br />And who said there’s no ambience?<br />Look, there’s that cyclo passing by with a grumpy passenger doing a disservice to his holiday. That Vietnamese woman carrying her load, one of many, has a look of calm strength about her, tempered with world-weariness. Don’t miss the policeman. He’s appeared again, after taking a break. He stands there, seemingly immovable and unflappable, surveying the scene with obvious authority and apparent indifference. Wait for him to leave, and they will put your stools off the pavement, and back on the road. Another bike zips by and the blur leaves you looking at the beer-drinking across the road. Laughter, stories being exchanged, backslapping, contemplation, observation. Whoa! That was a loud horn. You’d almost stopped noticing the traffic noisily whizzing by you, weaving its way around tourists and vendors. Oh, there’s another scooter stopped in the middle of the crossing. Those girls haven’t quite figured out which way they need to go yet. The other scooters, bikes, cars and cyclos weave around them as they ponder the decision. They are about as bothered as the little bundled baby who has passed out on his mother’s shoulder as she crosses the street. The little girl at your shop, however, is having a bad day. She wails inconsolably in her brother’s arms. You look at her and make faces. She ponders you like a new toy before deciding you are not quite appealing. Her grandfather (?) soothes her.<br /><br />But the guy next to you has caught your eye. He strikes up a conversation, soon listing out his ‘been there’ list around the world. Not much later he is making earnest efforts to tell you he, an American, hates George Bush as much as you do; and that ‘they’ are out to get all free thinkers and speakers in America. Whatever is this world coming to. But just when his conspiracy theories begin to sound paranoid and jaded, there’s this Israeli bloke on your right, recommending the sugar buns that smiling lady is selling. (5000 dong for two, and you take them). He tells you his name in almost perfectly accented Hindi, and proceeds to gush about your country where he spent six months. An enthusiastic Englishwoman tells you about the fair trade business she has set up in Rajasthan. She looks a bit like a hippie who has discovered Indian ethnic clothes, to good effect. The American is feeling left out, he nudges you with a comment about that very girl harking back to Woodstock days. The summer of love, he wistfully says, though you doubt very much he was there.<br />Somewhere between talk of India, America, Israel and Vietnam; Himalayan herbs, kind strangers, beautiful fabric and powerful Enfields, your mind stops to notice it all and smile. Isn’t this what its all about?<br />Oh, look at that- your next beer is in your hand. Its fresh, its tasty and its dirt cheap. Everything else is free.<br /><br /><div align="right"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>bia hoi</em>= fresh beer<br />Hanoi, Vietnam</span></span> </div>shakesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09909618523276874061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-23142995782617693622008-04-21T15:10:00.000+08:002008-04-21T15:31:16.053+08:00Varnavery cool <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/travel/2008/apr/21/bulgaria?gusrc=rss&feed=travel">piece </a>on Bulgaria.<br />Um, do they smoke there?shakesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09909618523276874061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-26634953847655347942008-04-19T23:40:00.001+08:002008-04-19T23:42:14.669+08:00The smile of Ta Phin<span class="dropcaps">T</span>hat day, we hired a bike and rode around, above and below Sapa. It was fantastic, the freedom. About 15km from Sapa we visited a minority village called Ta Phin. Past the village centre, which is accustomed to and expects tourists (though we saw none), we went further out. The rather narrow road led us through terraced hills and occasional huts. Then we stopped. A tiny stream babbled, a man with his plough walked in the distance, a few buffaloes were herded away. D spotted an abandoned hut- it's porch a place for us to sit and do nothing in the shade.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij8P5XzPKlLjray3GkVz_TShSYNHVZAV7MBM-nXIJDu3ReuiYVo8nGaG9DTIi6NOnTje6P7_vjUE_SfFq3cKQA6Zlu2hOV_HVVMD2MbUD6aT5W1zJxX8nrlqLuBW11Yu18ywcm3jtB34w/s1600-h/sapa-390.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij8P5XzPKlLjray3GkVz_TShSYNHVZAV7MBM-nXIJDu3ReuiYVo8nGaG9DTIi6NOnTje6P7_vjUE_SfFq3cKQA6Zlu2hOV_HVVMD2MbUD6aT5W1zJxX8nrlqLuBW11Yu18ywcm3jtB34w/s320/sapa-390.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190906518981007570" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This most delightful girl found us at the abandoned hut and lit up our biking break with her giggles.shakesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09909618523276874061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-20389515577181994402008-04-15T15:46:00.004+08:002008-04-15T16:00:58.305+08:00readaboutSome wonderful excerpts on unplanned travel in <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/travel/2008/apr/05/roadtrips.adventure">this article</a><br /><br /><blockquote><span style="color:#333333;">"But why, I asked, would a robber of tourists be driving about with a<br />gigantic lorry-load of hay? Could we not just accept a simple offer of<br />hospitality at face value?"<br /><br />"Let's drive to Russia," I said.<br />"Too far - we won't get back in time," she said<br />"Germany."<br />"Too dull."<br />"Corsica!""<br /><br />"Having to spend an afternoon in a cafe on a rainy day, or at a station waiting<br />for a train isn't a hardship, its a a chance to become part of the rhythm of a<br />place, if only for a few hours. "</span><br /></blockquote>Two (inspiring?) pieces on very appealing train trips by the man in Seat 61 <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/travel/2008/apr/14/railtravel.green">here </a>and <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/travel/2008/apr/07/rail.traintravel">here</a>.<br />And a handy piece on <a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/BraveNewTraveler/~3/261263191/">internet security</a> on the go.shakesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09909618523276874061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-27734652113344443312008-04-12T00:28:00.001+08:002008-04-12T00:28:43.799+08:00back and blue<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibvLmxqaUcBMkf-0RWxsDtrrILks6j9RdVZDDiEz8p0oopJMAYQtCHt7NhEsWdHCqIJ7_eBsgx6aHzKg0cFqhz2iqM8tYMBE3XEFrENH5ZMwrpHioY2nMcQ9g2qTk3GpBqBDdKuYkKxv4/s1600-h/DSC_0421.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibvLmxqaUcBMkf-0RWxsDtrrILks6j9RdVZDDiEz8p0oopJMAYQtCHt7NhEsWdHCqIJ7_eBsgx6aHzKg0cFqhz2iqM8tYMBE3XEFrENH5ZMwrpHioY2nMcQ9g2qTk3GpBqBDdKuYkKxv4/s320/DSC_0421.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5188023372275899282" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">hanoi-halong bay-sapa-hanoi, and back.</span><br /></div>shakesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09909618523276874061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-11362795031329572982008-04-03T02:01:00.001+08:002008-04-03T02:03:53.395+08:00hanoi ahoy!<span class="dropcaps">I</span>ts 1.40am and we're finally in bed. D is already deep asleep. It has been a long day. Work, lots of it. Home. Cooking. Cleaning. Packing. Charging camera batteries. Packing.<br /><br />I planned to click and post pics of the house before leaving. Sorry, not happening. I wrote (wrote, like with a pen in a notebook) in office yesterday about how this feels like (and is, I suppose) the least prepared trip we are going for ; and how I don't really care too much- I just want to be there. Planned to put up that whole bit as a post. Sorry, thats not happening either. The notebook is still at work (I wrote this while the office server, after cruelly separating me from a morning's work, was on the blink).<br /><br />Tomorrow at this time we will be fast asleep. In the Old Quarter of Hanoi. With a new city, a new country, a new people, new food, new drink, new sights, smells and sounds, awaiting us.<br />A new trip, and I can't wait.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc8oisYlhW4lPLZL3HhU4uLMdFirg9VhygKDi4EA4g38gW_WQsWVD_N3jZ9pI-4Gc9CSytQepqMM2nSIja-avb2azXixdauaP2VOvdIJ9AYDhVCQqcXxI3_xYUVmC95NKuFttCI5tCBsk/s1600-h/DSC_0132.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 263px; height: 184px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc8oisYlhW4lPLZL3HhU4uLMdFirg9VhygKDi4EA4g38gW_WQsWVD_N3jZ9pI-4Gc9CSytQepqMM2nSIja-avb2azXixdauaP2VOvdIJ9AYDhVCQqcXxI3_xYUVmC95NKuFttCI5tCBsk/s320/DSC_0132.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184708819884458850" border="0" /></a><br />See you after Vietnam!shakesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09909618523276874061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-63350254259379533162008-04-02T00:36:00.004+08:002008-04-02T00:40:59.374+08:00what a shot!" He casually walked to the kitchen, picked up a pair of scissors, snipped the snake’s head clean off and stretched its open neck into a plastic cup "<br /><a href="http://travel.nytimes.com/2008/03/09/travel/09vietdrink.html?ref=travel"><span style="font-style: italic;">here it is</span></a>shakesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09909618523276874061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-29804901953227618952008-03-22T14:50:00.008+08:002008-04-02T00:13:15.657+08:00vietnam resourcesUseful links on Vietnam/Hanoi : stuff used, come across or found cool during the Hanoi reading up.<br />- <a href="http://savourasia.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=1&Itemid=2">Savour Asia</a>- food in Asia (hanoi, beijing, bangkok and others); also lots of info on Hanoi inluding itineraries, maps and more. Detailing on food is very good.<br />- <a href="http://newhanoian.xemzi.com/">New Hanoian</a>- a 'community produced expat guide'<br />- of course, <a href="http://www.travelfish.org/country/vietnam">Travelfish</a>.<br />- a <a href="http://www.stickyrice.typepad.com/">Hanoi</a> food blog<br />- on <a href="http://trulyhalong.com/index.php">Halong bay</a><br />- an NY Times piece on <a href="http://travel.nytimes.com/2008/03/09/travel/09vietdrink.html?ref=travel">wine</a> and drink in vietnam ("<span style="font-style: italic;">He casually walked to the kitchen, picked up a pair of scissors, snipped the snake’s head clean off and stretched its open neck into a plastic cup</span>")<br />- <a href="http://english.ivivu.com/">Ivivu</a>- flights, travel and acco in vietnam<br />- an <a href="http://www.smarttravelasia.com/hanoi.htm">article </a>on Hanoi's shopping, eating and staying options, plus some misc info (lots of relevant prices included)<br />- a great looking place to spend a couple of days a <a href="http://www.topas-eco-lodge.com/">little while from Sapa</a>. Looks like a wonderful retreat,if you have the time (and money).<br />- <a href="http://hanoigrapevine.wordpress.com/">culture and art</a> scene in Hanoi<br />- a guide to <a href="http://www.hanoibiahoi.com/">Bia Hoi</a> joints in Hanoi<br /><br />Forums/posts<br />- on halong bay <a href="http://www.travelfish.org/board/post/vietnam/2102_Halong-Bay-tour---Hanoi-accomodation/0">acco & cruises</a>- t'fish<br />- <a href="http://www.travelfish.org/board/post/vietnam/2717_Sapa-Guide/0">Sapa</a> guide- t'fish<br /><a href="http://english.ivivu.com/"><br /></a>shakesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09909618523276874061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-53113458594477689632008-02-16T12:26:00.012+08:002008-02-16T13:27:46.104+08:00walk by the Vltava<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcCmOH7woxxxALcpOQIdDH5c9xQc_nSFmyqFhRIhcOu2vBElbA97qLbbNnfV8BUasdJMrZwz1MDoNUd1PJ2t1R2g9sSlS6dNXGYmd2QMcGneNR_lgG4DwyM8GpY8N9GD9tNJykTnEY0Eo/s1600-h/Prague+673+187.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcCmOH7woxxxALcpOQIdDH5c9xQc_nSFmyqFhRIhcOu2vBElbA97qLbbNnfV8BUasdJMrZwz1MDoNUd1PJ2t1R2g9sSlS6dNXGYmd2QMcGneNR_lgG4DwyM8GpY8N9GD9tNJykTnEY0Eo/s320/Prague+673+187.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167431651789521810" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKw8EBZ-26EQzDEnWePwajheZuElKGkc2766_WdM3gtzB_Rnq8sd8CzRhBhUHRJwmXlwOsqNIQMrCsAA72UqnUwDY3xsvtWdZcwWgy_2bseCuUYTbdM3wN5xaBNSMjruOepH7L2FT-mPc/s1600-h/Prague+673+202.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKw8EBZ-26EQzDEnWePwajheZuElKGkc2766_WdM3gtzB_Rnq8sd8CzRhBhUHRJwmXlwOsqNIQMrCsAA72UqnUwDY3xsvtWdZcwWgy_2bseCuUYTbdM3wN5xaBNSMjruOepH7L2FT-mPc/s320/Prague+673+202.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167433490035524562" border="0" /></a></div><span class="dropcaps">T</span>hat day, our last, was cold. Very cold indeed. It was about 7 or 8 degrees at midday, but worse- the wind was biting. We stood at the ‘Dancing Building’, Frank O’Gehry’s undeniably iconic and undoubtedly odd attempt at a modern symbol of Praha. Across the road from it, on the bridge, we pulled our woolen caps further down, wrapped our arms around ourselves and walked on to the other side of the Vltava. We walked by the river all the way back Nove Mesto or New Town, founded as, um, recently as 1348.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgCjLv_j3G3oVev91VSJtw-2b1y77LP5xUV_W8k0yWVgJQbLosGPq17bX0_XFo_l3EG-xBekybEG70UoZFW2WraYHCCcwFmgR80FN0ZTWy0_om-_5d6o1csVUwnJHBbuYTowehGPcYXg/s1600-h/Prague+673+206.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 223px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYgCjLv_j3G3oVev91VSJtw-2b1y77LP5xUV_W8k0yWVgJQbLosGPq17bX0_XFo_l3EG-xBekybEG70UoZFW2WraYHCCcwFmgR80FN0ZTWy0_om-_5d6o1csVUwnJHBbuYTowehGPcYXg/s320/Prague+673+206.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167437737758180354" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUV6dQCoo5WjYzcJ2l-_TwrJ20byaNuAkIloHWSGSjw3CadGcbeNosdn5BDUSBOhzCLdiKWvNyVv-zLjHm5cpTcsz7z1nTCSMEftY3Km-xSt_b8FuVkxJKuEulW_ZmC8jKc9vLvLI6HaA/s1600-h/Prague+673+200.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUV6dQCoo5WjYzcJ2l-_TwrJ20byaNuAkIloHWSGSjw3CadGcbeNosdn5BDUSBOhzCLdiKWvNyVv-zLjHm5cpTcsz7z1nTCSMEftY3Km-xSt_b8FuVkxJKuEulW_ZmC8jKc9vLvLI6HaA/s320/Prague+673+200.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167432880150168514" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />It was a quiet walk. We spoke a little, but the silence came from the street we walked on. We passed 2 people in about a 15-minute stretch, I think. We saw building walls with paintings, brown autumn leaves scattered casually by the weather, boats tethered by the side, the little strip of land in the river called Marksman’s Island. Eventually we walked by the park behind what was then an Andy Warhol exhibition.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJw_xmF50laAKzrtW1f0sR2RP_q8FM4080relM1Zu2g6wBUBqia3KAVkX2h1MsOkBLq_gvtIdVLeQ-MW5oNHOMv4Bj0wZxL60hG1KE37e7fm0F5E6QCxJwTIktSk2P2WrkeN2Opr3I_rU/s1600-h/Prague+673+198.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 223px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJw_xmF50laAKzrtW1f0sR2RP_q8FM4080relM1Zu2g6wBUBqia3KAVkX2h1MsOkBLq_gvtIdVLeQ-MW5oNHOMv4Bj0wZxL60hG1KE37e7fm0F5E6QCxJwTIktSk2P2WrkeN2Opr3I_rU/s320/Prague+673+198.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167431935257363362" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc6xNvj0GT1E7BNRZ9j0yqZdJ7YC3Yty54roUovbOv9vq0vzLIL-WuvcIqHa8eQesn0WZ5_x0xdwRbGJ_rQkyfOJQ89mKXI-7nB1_kIxpoAvRvgsMm2qyKiBG5P274pZ8WeScuxfQJ4j4/s1600-h/Prague+673+199.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 297px; height: 223px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc6xNvj0GT1E7BNRZ9j0yqZdJ7YC3Yty54roUovbOv9vq0vzLIL-WuvcIqHa8eQesn0WZ5_x0xdwRbGJ_rQkyfOJQ89mKXI-7nB1_kIxpoAvRvgsMm2qyKiBG5P274pZ8WeScuxfQJ4j4/s320/Prague+673+199.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167432227315139506" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAORxWLgL7heZqaxhuEbahdPxymPw5dsxruiEf4-1B9CDVxa7hphp2uRWkoBuhiUscqFaMYPBB6v76CFDoOFuAfTeS0-iIW0r54vSyP8pGJEosnAMQ9l86jIAT6fyiVHbMw1oyfd7ets/s1600-h/Prague+673+208.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 182px; height: 243px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHAORxWLgL7heZqaxhuEbahdPxymPw5dsxruiEf4-1B9CDVxa7hphp2uRWkoBuhiUscqFaMYPBB6v76CFDoOFuAfTeS0-iIW0r54vSyP8pGJEosnAMQ9l86jIAT6fyiVHbMw1oyfd7ets/s320/Prague+673+208.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167435981116556274" border="0" /></a>Writing this I sense it seems the walk will take us to some spectacular climax. It won’t, it didn’t- the walk itself was spectacular. It was also our last day in Praha, a city that blew us away and left us both becalmed and short of breath, seduced and smacked in the face in equal measure. Before we climbed the steps below the famous Charles Bridge to go back onto that bustling tourist strip of great beauty, we stopped. Just below the crowd, hardly few feet from the steps that took you back into the joyous madness we sat on a bench and tried, for the first time, hot wine.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOCBXLkLyEK8QevDMPkjAfNU1-omDzhnW-V5CfxhQL1mNY1BzhK34ghglhyNEPlRo5cOLY42toBOpgnlM0XxFR8-wyeU9qGnonHbTklY7XkhnJKUV5ZNlJv7PG7Eem98bEyQkZNStcpo/s1600-h/Prague+673+211.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOCBXLkLyEK8QevDMPkjAfNU1-omDzhnW-V5CfxhQL1mNY1BzhK34ghglhyNEPlRo5cOLY42toBOpgnlM0XxFR8-wyeU9qGnonHbTklY7XkhnJKUV5ZNlJv7PG7Eem98bEyQkZNStcpo/s320/Prague+673+211.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5167434791410615266" border="0" /></a><br /><br />A plastic glass of piping hot wine with cinnamon and a couple of cloves thrown in. The cold had not touched our hearts- we loved it, but in that bracing chill the wine warmed us and made us smile some more.<br /><br />Prague, you have too much up your sleeve.shakesterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09909618523276874061noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-1094160305284831822007-07-24T00:25:00.001+08:002007-07-24T00:25:58.789+08:00nature rules<table style="width: 194px;"><tbody><tr><td style="background: transparent url(http://picasaweb.google.com/f/img/transparent_album_background.gif) no-repeat scroll left center; height: 194px; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="center"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/TheShakester/TaProhm"><img src="http://lh6.google.com/TheShakester/RqTUB2MrAQE/AAAAAAAAASs/H5wBlL0luMw/s160-c/TaProhm.jpg" style="margin: 1px 0pt 0pt 4px;" height="160" width="160" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="text-align: center; font-family: arial,sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/TheShakester/TaProhm" style="color: rgb(77, 77, 77); font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none;">ta prohm</a></td></tr></tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-47642882075276433422007-05-17T21:41:00.000+08:002007-05-17T22:09:15.523+08:00Angkor Wat<div style="text-align: center;">more from Angkor Wat<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/TheShakester/AngkorWat/photo#5061295472655696370"><img src="http://lh3.google.com/image/TheShakester/Rj1Vap7vgfI/AAAAAAAAAK0/SKwnJ0NBOII/s288/AngkorWat%20morning%2078.JPG" /></a><br /></div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/TheShakester/AngkorWat/photo#5061295309446939026"><img src="http://lh5.google.com/image/TheShakester/Rj1VRJ7vgZI/AAAAAAAAAKE/VzB_xISQSQ4/s288/AngkorWat%20morning%2028-ChurningOfSea.JPG" /></a> <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/TheShakester/AngkorWat/photo#5061295395346284994"><img src="http://lh5.google.com/image/TheShakester/Rj1VWJ7vgcI/AAAAAAAAAKc/-7Y3Q37wQZs/s288/AngkorWat%20morning%2051.JPG" /></a><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/TheShakester/AngkorWat">angkor wat album</a><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-23673793373874477092007-05-06T11:22:00.000+08:002007-05-06T11:56:53.248+08:00Sunrise<span class="dropcaps">T</span>he sunrise at Angkor Wat is famous, the crowds head for it, you have to have the desire to wake up 3.30am to actually catch it in its entirety....and its all worth it. I would do it again, everytime I went.<br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/TheShakester/AngkorWatSunrise/photo#5061280912716562690"><img src="http://lh5.google.com/image/TheShakester/Rj1ILJ7vgQI/AAAAAAAAAIw/v9MF_MGO4N4/s288/AngkorWat%20sunrise%20026.JPG" /></a> <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/TheShakester/AngkorWatSunrise/photo#5061280934191399186"><img src="http://lh6.google.com/image/TheShakester/Rj1IMZ7vgRI/AAAAAAAAAI4/ZMXANhhVfbw/s288/AngkorWat%20sunrise%20065-1.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/TheShakester/AngkorWatSunrise/photo#5061281118874992946"><img src="http://lh5.google.com/image/TheShakester/Rj1IXJ7vgTI/AAAAAAAAAJI/IO9ANWmNOQo/s288/AngkorWat%20sunrise%20092.JPG" /></a> <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/TheShakester/AngkorWatSunrise/photo#5061281221954208066"><img src="http://lh5.google.com/image/TheShakester/Rj1IdJ7vgUI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/Mt75M-BMvtI/s288/AngkorWat%20sunrise%20099.JPG" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-49806119944321392462007-04-18T09:55:00.000+08:002007-04-18T21:11:07.249+08:00the clicking competition<a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/TheShakester/ClickingManiaAtBakheng/photo#5054410874138656594"><img src="http://lh5.google.com/image/TheShakester/RiTf6R3n_1I/AAAAAAAAAFg/gwMSurm5edo/s288/clicking%20at%20Bakheng-7.JPG" /></a> <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/TheShakester/ClickingManiaAtBakheng/photo#5054410251368398594"><img src="http://lh4.google.com/image/TheShakester/RiTfWB3n_wI/AAAAAAAAAE4/b0ILS0QebbI/s288/clicking%20at%20Bakheng-2.JPG" /></a><br /><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/TheShakester/ClickingManiaAtBakheng/photo#5054411518383751074"><img src="http://lh3.google.com/image/TheShakester/RiTgfx3n_6I/AAAAAAAAAGI/F20d2x0u4O0/s288/clicking%20at%20Bakheng-12.JPG" /></a> <a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/TheShakester/ClickingManiaAtBakheng/photo#5054410375922450194"><img src="http://lh5.google.com/image/TheShakester/RiTfdR3n_xI/AAAAAAAAAFA/bzax9jCccVc/s288/clicking%20at%20Bakheng-3.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><table style="width: 194px;"><tbody><tr><td style="background: transparent url(http://picasaweb.google.com/f/img/transparent_album_background.gif) no-repeat scroll left 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; height: 194px;" align="center"><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/TheShakester/ClickingManiaAtBakheng"><img style="margin: 1px 0px 0px 4px;" src="http://lh4.google.com/image/TheShakester/RiTeAR3n_tE/AAAAAAAAAHY/S0D2oZQtarI/s160-c/ClickingManiaAtBakheng.jpg" height="160" width="160" /></a></td></tr><tr><td style="font-size: 11px; font-family: arial,sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(77, 77, 77); text-decoration: none;" href="http://picasaweb.google.com/TheShakester/ClickingManiaAtBakheng">more of the Clicking mania at Bakheng</a></td></tr></tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-38353831887289289192007-04-17T10:13:00.000+08:002007-04-17T12:31:00.835+08:00Phnom Bakheng<span class="dropcaps">T</span>hey say Phnom Bakheng is a circus. There aren’t any animals or magicians, but there’s still a crowd. The performance we have all come to see is by that old trickster, the sun. Here he sets on one side of the hill, as you stand atop it in the middle of a temple that goes entirely unnoticed. On the east side of the hill is the other act, the biggest draw of them all in this country. If you peer across the people and the considerable distance hard enough, you can make out Angkor Wat. The sun, admittedly, was quite gorgeous, but people-watching made for much better tourism here- not in the least because there were so many of them.<br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dnatravel/461701240/"><img style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/189/461701240_e784b8e22c_o.jpg" border="0" /></a></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dnatravel/461701056/"><img style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/247/461701056_9774079dc9_o.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dnatravel/461701468/"><img style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/251/461701468_56befa2582_o.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><p align="left"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dnatravel/461709189/"><img style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/242/461709189_ce614d5422_o.jpg" border="0" /></a> <img style="MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 321px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/243/461701644_51fdd301f8_o.jpg" border="0" /></p>Next: pics of the photo-rush at Bakheng.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-18706597045735190282007-04-16T14:36:00.000+08:002007-04-17T12:30:07.132+08:00Siem Reap in numbersdays/nights in Siem Reap : 5<br />times awake before sunrise : 2<br />sunsets seen : 3<br />hours in/around Angkor : 13+12+14=39<br />shortest day (hours) : 15<br />longest day (hours) : 21<br />hottest during stay : 38 C<br />days it rained : 1 (when we were asleep)<br />types of transport : 1<br /><br />temples seen : 13<br />bas-reliefs, carvings : countless<br />giant faces in stone : don’t know<br />awe-inspiring trees seen : countless<br /><br />baguettes eaten : 16<br />pizzas eaten : 6<br /><em>amok</em> eaten : 1<br />khmer curries/soups/dishes : 9<br />instances breathless with chilly : 0<br />kinds of fruit consumed : 4<br />beers consumed-small/large : 9/7<br />brands of beer : 4<br />sugarcane juice : 5<br /><br />no. of phone calls made : 0<br />no. of times net accessed : 0<br />minutes spent watching tv : 1 (<span style="font-size:85%;">violence at Roma v ManU match on big screen at a bar</span>)<br />interesting people met : 6<br />photos taken : 1534 !<br />videos shot : 4<br /><br /><em>all USD</em><br />room rate : $15<br />cheapest food item : $0.25 (1000r)<br />most expensive food item : $6<br />cheapest beer (can) : $0.75<br />most expensive beer (can) : $1.5<br />cheapest thing bought : $0.5<br />most expensive thing bought : $7Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-20712748606423548462007-04-13T12:45:00.001+08:002007-04-17T12:31:00.836+08:00the rest of Day 1<a href="http://www2.blogger.com/profile/15815520071140551605"><em>by D</em></a><br /><span class="dropcaps">I</span>t takes absolutely ages to get out of the airport. But that doesn’t change our mood. Coz yay – we’re traveling!<br /><br />The tuk tuk sent by our guest house (free of charge) is waiting for us outside. The driver introduces himself. His name is Map. That’s right – Map. In retrospect, the tuk tuk was a great way to travel through Siem Reap. Maybe not too ideal in the rainy season. But perfect otherwise. It is far cheaper than a car and you have the wind in your face all the time. You can look all around you and everyone gets a good window seat! The ride to the guesthouse took us through dusty, dry land… but the breeze was cool so we couldn’t complain. Our eyes squinting in the sun were taking it all in. A lot of it reminded me of India. Mainly the dust!<br /><br />We get to guest house. Say hello to Michael Gutmeyer (the manager). Unpack our luggage. (will tell you some other time how manic I am about unpacking – even if it is for a couple of hours at a place!!!!) and then we decide to catch a snooze before heading out. The snooze is about two hours long and we wake up just before noon! All woozy and hungry we decide to head out immediately for something interesting to eat.<br /><br />Which is what we did. Eat something interesting I mean. I will leave it at that. This is too public a forum to discuss details.<br /><br />The sun was bright and happy and shiny by then and it was way too hot for us to do anything so so walked back to the guesthouse. Which by the way , was just 5 minutes away from “bar street” <em>the</em> place to eat, drink and hang out…<br /><br />We woke up a bit more refreshed and left at 4.30 to buy our 3 day pass for Angkor and also catch a bonus sunset, as our 3 days were going to start only the next day but we could be allowed in to the complex to see the temples if we wanted.<br /><br />Our pass was bought and a temple was chosen for the sunset. The trek up was long and tiring. I think the sun set was pretty. Pics say the rest.<br /><br />The sun set and we trekked back down with the rest of the crowd. Got back to the guesthouse (I seem to be saying that a lot don’t I?) got cleaned up and then we were out for dinner. The plan was to wake up really early the next day so we weren’t too keen to stay up too late. So we crashed and put two alarms in two <em>separate </em>devices to make sure we wake up on time. At 3.30am. And leave on time. At 4.30am. We do wake up on time. In fact, we are so enthusiastic (read “insane”) that we wake up 3 / 4 times through the night to look at the time. In fact I remember A shaking me rather hard at one point and mumbling “wake up D. wake up. You get ready first.” I stumble out of bed and realize its 12 &%*$ing 30.<br /><br />Oh well. That was day 1.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-84802670878379810902007-04-11T12:42:00.000+08:002007-04-17T12:30:37.929+08:00the bug has bitten<em><a href="http://www2.blogger.com/profile/15815520071140551605">by D</a></em><br /><span class="dropcaps">I</span> love traveling with A. Possibly more than I love watching movies with him. But, maybe not more than eating with him. Siem Reap was meant to be a short break. A break from working hard and our everyday existence. And that’s what it was - a short break. Let me rephrase that – it was wayyyyyyy too short. We were back before we knew it… and now we are writing about it.<br /><br />The day before a trip is always frantic. And the Saturday before our early morn (6am) Sunday flight was just that. Frantic and chaotic. There was general cleaning up of the house to be done (A’s mum was coming to stay with us 2 days after we were going to be back from Cambodia), couple of hours at the office to rush through, drinks to be had with a dear friend (in town just for a few days) and of course packing. And may I just add that the previous night had been way too long for me (and A – separately though!) and my head and body were trying to recover from all that through the day.<br /><br />Ok this is getting really boring. Fast forward to the night. We did whatever we had to do and finally managed to get into bed at 1.30 am. Only to wake up at 3.30. We got to the airport on time and checked in and walked around like zombies. But super excited zombies. We were off traveling! Yay!<br /><br />The flight was drowsy and uneventful. We got to Siem Reap Airport at about 8ish. And A took some pictures… something that he did a lot of over the next couple of days…<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXWXUE7d0WyKVXT8CMJQ1nA0TfHP-xZbRCNkDQ_LPBTxlakm8QQ1NX5ieXiF4_sqnAziQD3chbEmUqTrnEnfXlmYWGEZTWFlRr5GaTb8Ma67OA3cdZZUdHuE_-50pfnBjvGdAxLYnIVvDe/s1600-h/airport+arrival-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052201049040354978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXWXUE7d0WyKVXT8CMJQ1nA0TfHP-xZbRCNkDQ_LPBTxlakm8QQ1NX5ieXiF4_sqnAziQD3chbEmUqTrnEnfXlmYWGEZTWFlRr5GaTb8Ma67OA3cdZZUdHuE_-50pfnBjvGdAxLYnIVvDe/s320/airport+arrival-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:85%;">(to be contd...)</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-33930874355845380202007-04-08T12:40:00.000+08:002007-04-08T12:42:33.634+08:00we're back<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdT_N1yvetFuHFvipErfSrIhbGoxWRuuvDGCDEQgLCd-C6MUzvx5wQdOJTgr3gqHePVg_1SnRF7_dS3yIXEDlQLhV3xwolvr8JAToJsBeQ1hEbk_N1WAyHWtWxamOs-AW3Vlg-wuGoHq3v/s1600-h/Bayon+evening+25.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdT_N1yvetFuHFvipErfSrIhbGoxWRuuvDGCDEQgLCd-C6MUzvx5wQdOJTgr3gqHePVg_1SnRF7_dS3yIXEDlQLhV3xwolvr8JAToJsBeQ1hEbk_N1WAyHWtWxamOs-AW3Vlg-wuGoHq3v/s320/Bayon+evening+25.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>...from a fulfilling, different, very hot and <span style="font-style: italic;">really </span>memorable trip.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-78742721975797455602007-03-08T10:43:00.000+08:002007-03-08T14:39:06.051+08:00Freedom<span class="dropcaps">T</span>he numerous streets and lanes in old Chiang Mai. None of them seem particularly crowded. It isn’t really high season, and the feel is a little mellow. We cruise through them all on our bike (scooter), with no particular place to go, waiting for something to catch our fancy.<br /><br />We stop at it the second time we pass it. The first time we noticed how bright and colourful it was, and how empty. In fact, totally empty. Now we stop anyway (or because of that?), and step into a bar that’s about the size of our living room.<br /><br />His hair falls untidily till his shoulders. He shuffles his scraggy self across to us with a beaming smile, nodding his welcome. We have the solitary beer that we said we would. We chat with Selly, as music from the 70s plays. I ask what else he has to listen to, and he tells me to take my pick. That would be a DVD on Woodstock.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dnatravel/406711602/"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/162/406711602_e1c3dd972e_o.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dnatravel/406711712/"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/128/406711712_cb32a05a77_o.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Selly says “Freedom” very often; only sometimes because he is referring to his bar, which is called the Freedom Bar. Subdued lighting complements its bright colours, which- almost needless to say- are red, yellow and green. There are Bob Marley images everywhere, and it almost seems natural that the owner looks a bit like the icon. When we leave, he gives us Freedom Bar stickers. I can’t get over how much he keeps grinning, and its not the foolish, insincere kind.<br /><br />Two nights later its our last night in Chiang Mai. After bar hopping by the river, we’re back in the old city, cruising, looking for somewhere to have our last few beers. We see the Freedom Bar from afar, we notice that it is buzzing with people, and we’re glad about that- we’re not really thinking of stopping. But as we approach the bar, Selly stumbles out the door. His grin is exactly where we had left it the other day, his arms outstretched, wildly gesturing for us to stop. I brake, and stop almost at his feet. He greets us like long lost friends, and before we know it we are inside Freedom Bar.<br /><br />The rest of the night is spent with Selly and a few of his pals. There’s Anna the pretty Scottish-Thai girl, Joe(?) the madly friendly Muslim guy who sells jewellery, even in India; there’s Meow (yes, like the cats), who works double jobs and has taken an off night from waitressing; Anna’s silent and almost surly boyfriend who bartends most of the night. There’s the tall, silent, odd friend who arrives from Pai (after Selly disappears for half an hour to pick him up). Its more like being at a party than a bar- we even help around with a couple of orders from customers!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dnatravel/406711712/"></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dnatravel/406711645/"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/147/406711645_1976507235_o.jpg" border="0" /></a> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/dnatravel/406711761/"><img style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/128/406711761_ec8fd327a0_o.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Selly‘s had a few beers as well. His English isn’t the best, so his jaunty “Freedom!” sometimes serves as a “hello”, or a “cheers”, even a “can I bum a cigarette?”. It also serves as “bye”, when we’re leaving at about 4am. By then we have been handed a couple of Freedom Bar lanyards (for a tiny setup he sure has his merchandising organised!), emails IDs, and the name of a bar in Ko Phangan- that’s where we are headed- at which we can meet Meow’s boyfriend…of sorts.<br />But that is another story.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-15612863705448932502007-02-26T13:19:00.000+08:002007-02-26T13:26:58.248+08:00thailand in numbers-2<div align="center">meals in Thailand : 29<br />salads consumed : 6<br />instances breathless with chilly : 10, at the <em>very </em>least<br />kinds of fruit consumed : 2<br />bugs eaten : 2<br />sticky rice eaten : 1<br />beers consumed : 53 <span style="font-size:85%;">+/-</span><br />thai whisky consumed : 600ml </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-27740865159281256112007-02-22T12:15:00.000+08:002007-02-26T12:19:12.287+08:00frightful flightsA funny, if hope-it-never-happens sort of <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/6380701.stm">piece</a>.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-50412485314104418092007-02-13T23:36:00.000+08:002014-07-09T16:50:01.102+08:00...ireland<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="dropcaps">W</span>hen I was young, I started- courtesy my brother- listening to <a href="http://www.thechieftains.com/">The Chieftains</a>. Mostly <a href="http://www.thechieftains.com/discography/disc_longblackveil.asp">this lovely album</a> that I have not tired of to this day, nor do I ever expect to. Recently, I found myself with a couple of albums of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Dubliners">The Dubliners</a> . They found their way onto my ipod.<br />
<br />
More often that not, when I listen to them, I can't help but notice I am being moved or affected in some way or the other. To fall back on an unlikely cliche, it seems like they are... well, calling out to me. My desire to go to Ireland has increased many fold in recent months, in no small measure thanks to their quirky songs. Its almost like I expect to land in Dublin one day and be greeted by jolly, funny or melancholic music played by a folk band amidst red cheeked men and women and pints of beer. I know that is being cliched and silly, which is why I <span style="font-style: italic;">almost </span>expect it.<br />
<br />
As if to remind me of my myopic thoughts, I saw today<a href="http://www.lonelyplanet.com/lptv/episodes/dublin.cfm"> an episode</a> of Lonely Planet Six Degrees, set in Dublin. It stated at the outset its attempt would be to discover the 'new Dublin', transformed, as it has apparently been, in the last decade or so. What followed was fascinating at many levels, including one thread on the uprising of 1916 and how it was a seminal time in Irish history.<br />
What it did not have- not one, fleeting minute of- was Irish folk music.<br />
<br />
Oh, well. I suppose I must discover it for myself.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227712445839282485.post-68308399336701843542007-02-01T00:08:00.000+08:002014-09-01T14:45:56.058+08:00Siam Snapshot- deadly street tom yam<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5BGU0HcGk4A4DP0icFtKtPgS2xaTinzpdvSx8lDXa-UUVzRUsrSCcamVpCmPMHSQdHpoepQ8SKVl6SKAcsu-83UbW8YNeQ6LoE8zpMT8PyZXi4yZIMZcFR5nCVOMuCR_0RgnR7PcOYyQ/s1600-h/DSCN9997.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5BGU0HcGk4A4DP0icFtKtPgS2xaTinzpdvSx8lDXa-UUVzRUsrSCcamVpCmPMHSQdHpoepQ8SKVl6SKAcsu-83UbW8YNeQ6LoE8zpMT8PyZXi4yZIMZcFR5nCVOMuCR_0RgnR7PcOYyQ/s320/DSCN9997.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5026228360856677378" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com