Meeting Uncle Ho

Moscow has Comrade Lenin. Beijing has Chairman Mao. Hanoi has Uncle Ho.



Despite what you might think, Uncle Ho (Ho Chi Minh to us westerners) isn't buried in his namesake city, the former Saigon. Actually, he isn't buried at all. He's embalmed and on display in a mausoleum in Hanoi--and if you want a true Vietnamese cultural experience, join the hordes of Vietnamese, and wait in "line" to pay your respects to the man.



Why did I put "line" in quotes? There's no such thing as a "line" in Vietnam. At least to check your bag. You'd think people might be a little more respectful, considering this is probably one of the holiest "nationalist" sites in Vietnam, but nope. Elbows fly, people jostle for position--and I think some of them were doing it deliberately, just because they could get away with it. The concept of "personal space" is about as foreign in Vietnam as my fair skin and yellow hair.



It probably took about 30-45 minutes for the line to finally enter the mausoleum itself--and native vietnamese outnumber westerners by a margin of about 40:1, if not more. Communist pomp and pageantry is on full display here--with white gloved, white uniformed, white hatted guards, whose formal dress is accented by the polished brass buttons and buckles, and various medals--all marching in parade form.

They change guards or add a new wreath every 15-20 minutes or so, which pauses the entire line for a couple of minutes. Of course, you have to check your camera (which magically winds up at another place by the time you finish), and are serenaded by the sounds of Vietnamese singing patriotic hymns on some of the lcd boards along the line.

The mausoleum itself screams eastern bloc communism, but is not nearly as brutal looking as other such structures. The best way for me to describe it would be a communist interpretation of a traditional greek temple--dark gray marble, with square columns, forming a solid mass that towers over the flat landscape.

Once inside the mausoleum, which is thankfully air conditioned, the lines end and its pretty much a free for all. The inside is dimly lit, but also very clean--kind of felt like I was back in the Beinecke rare book library, actually--you struggle to keep your footing as the crowds swarm around you before you enter the chamber. Uncle Ho sits in a glass case lit by reddish light, and is separated from you by a waist high wall forming a barrier, and one vietnamese guard stands by each corner of the glass case. Other guards line the walkway, urging people around, tugging on your hand and wrist urging you to move along. They are harsher to the vietnamese, though--I saw one guard physically yank one guy's hand out of his pocket, as if to urge him to be respectful. I won't fully describe Uncle Ho, for fear of possible censorship and or expulsion (I don't know how strict the party is in Vietnam, nor do I care to find out), but I'll write two words: Madame Tussaud's.

It is a good thing, though, that Uncle Ho is embalmed--for the avowed communist would probably be rolling over in his grave if he saw the scene around his mausoleum. The best example of the fact that though the U.S. may have lost the physical war, we have won the ideological war, can be seen just yards from where he now lies for eternity--small kiosks, and some not so small kiosks, sponsored by some not so small corporations (Fujifilm anybody?) line the pathways in the area surrounding his mausoleum. A Vietnamese-version of Starbucks sits alongside the line. Vendors sell various knicknacks and chotchkes. Vietnamese schoolchildren walk into his tomb wearing hats provided to them by Yamaha and designer (or at least, designer knock off) blue jeans. Vietnam is indeed CINO.

Walked the brief distance along Dien Bien Phu avenue (the Vietnamese glorify this battle all over the city--it would be like Washington D.C. having one of its main thoroughfares named Yorktown) to the Army Museum, bracing myself for the propaganda that I will almost assuredly see and encounter. I didn't know it was possible, but my blood managed to boil more at the Army Museum than at the Revolution museum. You walk through the usual displays about the french and the like, and then you hit the American area--among other items, on display is the exact tank used to break the gate at the Saigon Presidential Palace.

The stuff that really got to me were the various relics of American soldiers and downed airmen present throughout the section--they have old flight helmets, old army/air force clothing, personal possessions, and even the manufacturing serial plates from downed aircraft. It was only natural to wonder about the fate of those whose items were on display. Were they killed instantly? Were they captured and imprisoned? Did they ever return back to the U.S.? What about their families and the lives that they left back home? How many of them left wives and children who were told the news that their husband/father was not coming back alive? How many know that their husband/brother/son/father's gear is now on display in a museum as a war trophy?

Captions of villagers and vietnamese soldiers who killed many Americans as heroes also incensed me. Most of the Americans in Vietnam weren't there voluntarily--they were conscripts, fighting in a war that from a foreign policy standpoint, didn't make a whole lot of sense--fighting in a place that most of them had probably never heard about until the 60s.

Look, I understand that is only natural for any ruling party to build a national heroic narrative--every country does it--but it is weird, as an American, to be on the otherside of that narrative--as the enemy, as the "foreign devil," as the "imperialist"--but I just thought the displays in Hanoi were just over the top in their absurdity--they didn't make even the slightest attempt of telling the entire story--it is merely about glorifying the communist party.
Next to the museum, in some outside yards, are various military aircraft on display--some captured war booty in perfect condition, some legendary Vietnamese fighter planes/tanks responsible for all sorts of "heroic deeds."

The museum itself is across the street from a larger than life sized black marble statue of Vladimir Lenin, in Lenin Park.

You can't help noticing the irony--communism, a governing philosophy built around the idea of eliminating the elite and providing for everyone, breeding a culture that glorifies several figures, and devoting gosh knows how much money to insuring that the memories and the memorials of these leaders are in immaculate condition, while some of their countrymen continue to live in poverty around them. You can only wonder what Chairman Mao and Uncle Ho would think about the mausoleums? Would they be corrupted and enjoy themselves, or would they be ideologically pure and denounce such displays as overly extravagant--a sign that the party has been corrupted by the bourgeoisie?

Spent the rest of the day wandering around the old quarter, revealing that Hanoi can be extremely disorienting--but it was great to explore, and see the narrow alleyways. Tried some Bia Hoi--or fresh beer--a local specialty--that pretty much tastes like non-alcoholic beer, and its also dirt cheap--25 cents a glass. Walked down the park in the center of Hanoi--Hoa Kiem lake, which is simply beautiful, and the symbolic center of Hanoi--barring the sight of vietnamese and some chinese pagodas, you could have easily been in the center of some european city--that's what it felt like.

As I mentioned previously, I did not go to Halong Bay--instead today I went to Ninh Binh to go see Tam Coc--an experience that I will describe a little later.

The night trains to Hue were all booked, so instead, I am flying to Hue at 630am tmw morning on Vietnam Airlines.

Swing and a miss

So, I had considered going to Ha Long Bay, but, for whatever reason, was kind of turned off by the tours my hostel was offering--namely, they were basically booze cruises, and I tend to get bored pretty quickly of sitting around in the sun with nothing to do--they are also relatively expensive (by vietnam standards). Besides, I take two medicines that work on my liver, which means that my liver can't keep up (nor do I really want to keep up) with these gap year brits, and aussies and kiwis that can drink like fish anyway. The other options I was looking at didn't really have the same appeal to me, namely because I was afraid that I was going to be stuck with a bunch of old geezers. Of course, I change my mind when tonight I happen to meet a bunch of people who I actually like and who are going on the tour, but, of course, the tour is all booked up. Oh well--to be fair, while the scenery looks amazing, if I had really wanted to do it, I would have had it booked well in advance, and I was kind of mixed on it. I'm not much of a beach/bay person, and I'd probably increase my skin cancer risk tenfold.

What does that mean? That means that I have an unexpected day with nothing to do, depending on how much Vietnam Airlines charges to fly to Hue (considering how far the Hanoi airport is from Hanoi, I'm really not so sure I want to take that haul out there again). Instead, what I will do is probably find a good day trip, and do that, and come back in time to take the night train to Hue. Day tripping to Halong bay is not really much of an option, considering it is a 3.5 hour bus ride there, one way.

To be honest, I might have to "kill a day" but I'd also gain a day, and from what I've been hearing, as great as Ha Long bay might be, Hue, and specifically Hoi An, is much more of my "style" and what I would rather be doing anyway--wandering around and exploring, instead of being stuck on a boat. Those of you who know me know that I have somewhat limited patience and can be restless at times, and I'm pretty sure that the boat thing would probably get old after a couple of hours.

The other alternative, though, is to take a ten hour bus to Hue, and get to see the countryside in the daytime. I can book a hostel in advance, and have that arranged. Whatever happens, as usual, I will keep you posted.

Hanoi rundown

Okay, so I walk the 2 or 3 blocks to the Hanoi Hilton, which is not a luxury resort, although an office building now occupies about half of the original space.
The building is a yellow painted, colonial structure, and, from the outside, doesn't look like a prison. There are some high walls, and some 2 story buildings built around courtyards, but it wouldn't look out of place as a government office building or the like. Given that the communist party is in power in Vietnam, and a big part of building strength for the party is by a selective emphasis on history, the history of Vietnamese imprisoned by the French there is the overwhelming focus of the museum. Don't get me wrong, its an interesting thing to learn about, its just not what I was expecting. Of course, given that this is a communist party run museum, the word french is almost always followed by "colonizer," Japanese by "fascist," American by "imperialist," Vietnamese by "hero" and South Vietnamese by "puppet."

Only two rooms at the museum are dedicated to the U.S. pilots that were imprisoned there, and of course, the exhibits are whitewashed to present the Vietnamese as humane jailers. They emphasize how well the Americans were treated, and the exhibit is lined with photographs (probably staged) of the American pilots enjoying themselves. Of course, there is an obvious disconnect between their "truth" and "reality." If the Americans were treated so well, then why can't McCain raise his arms above his shoulders, and why did he try to commit suicide several times? To be honest, some of it just made my blood boil.

There are some hilarious mistranslations--for example they claimed that American protestors walked from Brooklyn to Auckland. Now, what they meant was probably "Oakland" as walking to Auckland is impossible--its the largest city in New Zealand. There are some interesting artifacts, though.

After checking in, went to Van Mieu or the palace of learning--the site of a university established in the 11th century, but, despite its age, has a layout that is remarkably similar to the stereotypical university quad--it has several courtyards built around a main pond, and is all together a very beautiful, and serene haven from chaotic Hanoi.

Just because I hadn't had my fill of Communist propaganda, I decided to go to the Vietnam Revolution Museum. The top half is dedicated to the struggle against the French, and nearly a quarter of top floor is limited solely to glorifying the victory at Dien Bien Phu, which kicked the French out (of course, some historians argue that the French were already out of Vietnam, and that Dien Bien Phu wasn't an attempt to reinforce the French position in Vietnam--it was an attempt to prevent the Vietnamese from attacking and invading the French colony/protectorate of Laos.)

Walked through the exhibit on the American portion--choice quotes: "the american imperialists invented the tonkin incident so that they could invade" (again, not true, but lets not let the facts get in the way of building up a national heroic narrative). Photos are blatantly doctored and touched up, and you can never take anything at face value in the museum. I used by American history knowledge to give a group of three irish guys a crash course in American-Vietnamese history, which they actually enjoyed, since they honestly had zero knowledge beforehand. Like usual, parts of the museum make my blood boil as they are blatantly false.

Get a rickshaw tour for about 2.5 hours. On the way, we pass the most beautiful building in Hanoi, the Opera house--a european style building that screams opera house--which of course Lonely Planet doesn't bother to mention. The guy takes me down some random tree-lined streets, and we pass arguably the second prettiest building in Hanoi, the Danish embassy.

He keeps mentioning about some B52 being downed, and he wants to take me to it. So, I decide, what the heck, and we start going down some random back alleyways, and I think that he's taking me elsewhere and will try to rob me. But no--after about 10 minutes of pedaling through some backstreets, we emerge into an acre-sized courtyard in the middle of this Hanoi neighborhood, with two ponds. One of which has the undercarriage of a b52 protruding from it.

Posing for photographs with the downed wreckage of a U.S. aircraft was easily one of the most awkward experiences of my life--I really can't smile, since its a good bet that one or more of my countrymen were likely killed--but at the same time, it is also bizarrely beautiful.

He then decides to take me to the lake where John McCain's plane crashed. Again, Lonely Planet screws up once more--McCain's plane crashed in Trin Brac (or something like that)--a lake about five minutes from the old quarter, and directly across the road from the massive West Lake, lined by a corniche. With the water, the boardwalk, and the hanging trees, it is easily the prettiest part of Hanoi, and the place is unmentioned by my guidebook. There is actually a brown, concrete statue/memorial site with an american pilot chained up, emphasizing the capturing of McCain by the people of Hanoi. Again, some of the most awkward photos of my life. What do you do in that situation? Smiling is awkward because you are smiling next to the depiction of a downed and tortured U.S. airman.

As we head back towards my hotel, I start to see the sky get dark--very dark--like the same color the clouds would get in Texas before a deluge starts. And did it ever rain. Welcome to the rainy/monsoon season, as it came down in buckets, with thunder and lightning to boot. I was getting soaked, but my rikshaw had a great alternative--we pulled over under a canopy, and he, using some big office paper clips, put together a jerry-rigged rain cover for the cabin--and it worked very well.

I get back to the hostel, which I am torn about--will explain later. I will try to do the nice thing and let other people use the computer instead of hogging it.

Headaches in Hanoi

I've lived in two of the loudest cities on the planet--New York, and New Haven, where the city song should be the wail of an ambulance siren, as my mother can attest to. Neither compare to Hanoi. Hanoi is the first city that has actually given me a headache because of how incessant the honking and the beeping is.

Traffic is horrendous, and every time you cross the street, you are taking your life into your own hands--but you get the hang of it, and the "New York Staredown" works everytime.

Woke up pre-dawn yesterday to take a cab to the Bangkok airport. Here's a tip: if you want to avoid Bangkok traffic, travel at 430 in the morning. If not, then you are bound to run into a traffic jam (don't listen to the cab drivers who want extra because of "traffic jam"--there is always a traffic jam in Bangkok, its just worse at certain times--certain cab drivers literally refused to drive me to some places because of how bad the traffic was--considering they could have had me metered and run up a big bill, that's somewhat revealing). Took us only about 30 minutes to get to the airport (took us about an hour to get from the airport to the hotel in rush hour).

Little things can sometimes reveal a lot about the place you are in. In the Bangkok airport, all the duty free liquor stores had russian cyrillic writing in their windows.

Boarded next to a Druk Air flight (the Bhutanese airline--but got no pics, since the plane was parked elsewhere).

I had mixed feelings about going to Vietnam--after getting an email from my father in regards to my query regarding some Vietnam War sites, I realized just how significant the Vietnam War is to American history and culture, and will be for quite sometime. The experiences of parents always influence their children, and this case, for my generation, the major cultural/social experience was the Vietnam War and the social upheaval that it caused in the U.S. As such, my generation has been raised on memories of the war, and this means that the full effects of the war on American culture will only be revealed when generation y hits maturity and are the main decision makers.

Descending over Vietnamese airspace, you could see some of the mountains peaking over the clouds. The cloud cover over Hanoi was easily one of the lowest I've landed in--we literally didn't see the surrounding countryside until we were about two minute from landing--and there are only two words to describe the landscape--verdant and flat. I've never seen a place with so many different, subtle shades of green than the ricefields of Vietnam.

As a sign that times have most definitely changed, as we pulled up to the terminal, sitting on the tarmac was a U.S. Government 737, painted in the same livery as air force one.

Got an airport pickup from the hostel, since I really had no desire to screw with the cabs early in the morning, which ended up costing me an arm and a leg anyway (triple what I'm paying for the hostel, but I avoided quite a bit of hassle). Hanoi's airport is far away from the city--easily about a 75 minute drive--its about 33 clicks away.

On the drive in, though, something struck me. We may have lost the physical war in Vietnam, but, nearly 30 years after pulling out the last of our troops, our capitalist ideology has indeed prevailed--tons of billboards advocating all sorts of private companies line the airport highway. Yes, Vietnam may be run by the communist party, but like Laos and China, they are CINO's--communists in name only. Lenin (and probably Uncle Ho too) would be rolling over in his grave to see the amount of capitalism taking place on the streets of Hanoi.

I pride myself on my directional ability. Hanoi is all but impossible to get oriented. I figured out bangkok after a couple of hours. Hanoi is just a maze and warren of streets. It also isn't that "walkable" either, unfortunately, because of how far the main tourist sites are spread about, and the bad traffic.

General rule for traffic in SE Asia: the greater number of motorbikes, the more chaotic the city is. Motorbikes outnumber cars in Hanoi by about 10:1. And the traffic is easily the worst in SE Asia. Another thing to keep in mind: because of the various colonial legacies in SE Asia, all countries don't drive on the same side of the road. In Indochina (laos, cambodia, Vietnam) and in Indonesia, they all drive on the right. In Singapore, Thailand, Brunei, and Malaysia, they drive on the left. Since I have been popping in and out of these countries, it often takes me a day to get used to what direction traffic is moving.

Bangkok wrap up: driving in from the airport, saw the sight of the monsoon rains streaming of the side of a lit billboard--coming in waves.

In my afternoon in Bangkok, I went to the other red light districts to see what they were like--all of them, conveniently are easily accessible via skytrain and/or subway--they really don't feel that sleazy, but that's because I was there in the daytime. Revealingly, the bar girls working outside all but ignored me and flocked to the older european males. They know where the money is.

Rant warning: I view cemeteries as sacred, especially war cemeteries. I don't care how much you paid for your Thai escort, bringing your "new girlfriend" to a war cemetery, like people did in Kanchanaburi, is inexcusable. Have some respect, for gosh sakes.

I will post my full wrap up of Hanoi later, as I don't want to waste my day.
visited Hoa Lo prison, Van Mieu, the revolutionary museum, the site of a b52 undercarriage, and the lake where mccain's plane landed.
today: visiting ho chi minh mausoleum, and various other sites, and walking around the old quarter.

Back to Bangkok

Leaving Kanchanaburi in about an hour to go back to Bangkok. I have a 645 am flight tmw morning to Hanoi.

Kanchanaburi was honestly a bit of a dud--I'm glad I came, the war cemetery is beautiful (stumbled upon the grave of a jewish dutch soldier), and the death railway center museum is well worth the visit if you happen to be passing through. The bridge is, after all, just a railroad bridge, and the original wooden one was destroyed by allied bombing, so the one that stands is stell--with parts made from Japan, oddly enough.

The town is filled with cheap go-go bars, which make it a bit sleazy, and while it could have been nice to relax in for a day or two, it would have probably been better just to a day trip from Bangkok.

Still in Bangkok

Was planning on going to Kanchanaburi tonight, but plans got scuttled when I wasn't able to get my bags from my hotel after getting my passport back until 4pm. Last bus to Kanchanaburi leaves between 5 and 6, and the bus station was an hour away--yes Bangkok is big, it sprawls, and it has horrible traffic. In other words, Thailand's city of angels is very similar to the U.S. city of Angels--although L.A. actually has a defined downtown area and somewhat of an identifiable skyline. Bangkok really doesn't have any "signature" buildings.

So, instead, I changed hotels, since the only reason why I was staying where I was staying was that it was near where I had to be--the cathay pacific office, and the vietnamese embassy.

I am officially back to travelling on my own, as AJ left early this morning to go to Bali. Unofficially, I've been back on my own since yesterday morning, the last time we saw each other.

The problem with Bangkok in terms of being a traveller is that the legendary/notorious Khao San Road, where alot of the budget guesthouses/hostels are is close to absolutely nothing. It's a 50 baht cab ride to the nearest skytrain/subway station (in theory, you could walk it, but when its hot as heck out, and you have to walk that far just to get the subway, and then have to walk even farther to go prancing about, then you might be a little bit crazy). The problem with the place I was staying at was that, while it was close to lots of things (just a 10 minute walk from a skytrain stop), it was pretty isolated socially, and there weren't any young people around (the bar girls and prostitutes working at nearby Nana Plaza do not count). So I stayed there as long as I had to before moving elsewhere.

Since I could only pickup my passport at 3pm, I spent the day just wandering around. I have already been to Bangkok once, six years ago, and seen all the major sights, so I just decided to walk down to a neighborhood park, Lumphini park, wander around, before taking the skytrain to the river and hopping on one of the Chao Praya express boats that easily double as river tours for cheap tourists like myself (think of the boats as much smaller versions of the staten island ferry, only you have to pay a little over 50 cents per ride--but that 50 cents covers the entire system--the boats ply a line of about 32 stations and piers on the Chao Praya, and one pier is right underneath a skytrain stop).

You know how there is an urban legend about alligators in the sewers of New York City? Well, Bangkok has actual giant lizards--in its public parks. I'm walking along one of the paved paths around the man made pond/lake in the middle of Lumphini (a nice oasis, btw) and I see this giant lizard sunbathing. Not just one, but a couple of them. Apparently, monitor lizards, some of them probably seven feet in length from head to tail, make their home in Lumphini park, and nobody seems to mind them. A group of elderly men playing some sort of traditional game saw me taking photos, and told me to come and join them--they were sitting no less than about five yards from a couple of the monitors, and it didn't seem to bother any of them.

Whereas earlier in the trip, I tried to at least be somewhat polite to the touts offering me rides and the like, now I'm just having fun with them. If someone asks me where I am going nowadays, and I don't need a ride, then I've started saying all sorts of things to them--like, I'm going to the moon, for example. Do you have a rocket ship? Most of them laugh when I say stuff like that, but I'm sure they are saying all sorts of nasty things about me in their native language to one another. To be honest, I don't really care. When some of them try to rip me off as badly as they do when I actually need a ride, then they really shouldn't complain about me playing games with them.

I'm pretty sure my cab driver from my old hotel to my new hotel is Thailand's version of a birther or a conspiracy theorist. He gave me a fair price to my hotel--actually, the only price I was willing to accept as his first offer, so I took it--and told me that he was from outside of Chiang Mai. As we start to head down Sukhumvit road, underneath the skytrain track, and where most of the protestors were camped out, we pass the Central World Mall, and I point it out. His response (his english was pretty good by foreign cab driver standards) and clearly says "government blew up that building." Excuse me? He then points out to me where all the protestors were camped out, a theater that he claimed that the government also blew up, and the site where several protestors were killed. He explains that the red shirts were entirely non-violent, and all were peaceful, and that it was the government and the army that was responsible for it.

I have asked a fair amount of people (or been outright told without having to ask) about the riots and what their opinion on it was. Nearly everyone that I have talked to (including some, like AJ, who were actually interviewing and in some of the camps themselves) have said that the red shirts were the ones to blame in this matter, and they were the ones, not the government, that were the violent ones. By all accounts, the government was actually relatively lenient in dealing with them. Could you imagine the U.S. government allowing a group of some 200,000 protestors to camp out for about a month in the middle of midtown manhattan, shutting down park avenue, madison avenue, and 5th avenue, forcing businesses to close and employees to avoid going to work, paralyzing the U.S. economy while attacking various storefronts and burning out entire buildings in the process? No. They would have been cleared out--either forcibly or unforcibly within a week, and probably within a matter of hours. The Thai government didn't try to forcibly clear them out until after about a month or so.

Yes, my taxi driver was a red shirt--and a proud one to boot (crashcourse in thai politics: Thaksin, the ousted prime minister from several years ago, is for the red shirts--Abhisit, the current prime minister, is a yellow shirt. It was a large yellow shirt protest in 2006 that managed to shut down the Bangkok airport that helped kick Thaksin out and put Abhisit in place). He said that Thaksin was a great prime minister, and he wasn't corrupt at all (factually incorrect--Thaksin and some of his aides have been convicted several times of corruption. To be fair, Thaksin is independently wealthy, a businessman in his own right, so plenty of his money is legit)--it is Abhisit and his cronies that are the corrupt ones.

I tried to probe a little further, and ask him why the government would destroy a shopping mall, and his reasoning was pretty suspect.

That said, he was a nice enough guy and a pretty good cab driver, so all was not lost, and I purposely tipped him (i had exact change, but i decided to purposely overpay and just told him to keep the change).

Random observations in Bangkok

In our cab from the airport to the hotel, the seat pocket displaying various magazines contained a copy of American Eagle Airlines' inflight magazine. American doesn't fly to Bangkok, let alone its partner American Eagle.

"Charlie" is a very popular name for stores and restaurants in Bangkok--it is all over the place.

There is a Chabad house near Khao San Road--the main backpacker hotel/hostel zone.

Three out of my four female cousins have girly bars named after them. Sorry Hannah, I was unable to find one with your name on it. What's most bizarre, though, is that "Molly's" and "Annie's Famous Massage Parlor" are right next door to each other (yes, I have photographic proof of this). Are Ken and Becky really sure they were in Austin/Philadelphia when they claimed to be, and they weren't moonlighting as owners of Bangkok brothels?

Bangkok security guards are really nice--and even some of the taxi drivers too. When I asked for directions from some security guards, some of them took my hand and pointed the way to go, and all were very polite and formal.

How bad is the bangkok traffic? In rush hour, one cab driver refused to take me to where I wanted to be taken, because it would have taken an hour with traffic. When I mentioned a skytrain/subway stop (my hotel is about 150 yards away from a stop), he got on the phone with his supervisor, spent about five minutes on the phone with him, took me to the nearest subway station and told me which way I needed to go. Yes, I tipped the guy (i didn't ask for change and the change would have been 20% of the fare).

I went to a mall to find a pharmacy, and I was promptly offered a lollipop (in a sealed wrapper from a security guard). When I tok one, the guy gave me another one.

Maybe the only obvious thing that has changed about Bangkok is that there are now metal detectors in front of all malls, and you have to pass through them and show your bag to a security guard at the subway/skytrain.

Managed to make a nice 50 baht when I sold off my "decline and fall of the roman empire" book that I had read a grand total of 40 pages over the past six weeks. As a comparison, I've read 370 pages of a new book I bought in Laos within the past two days.

American embassy looks like a cliched colonial country club type establishment--beautiful setting--and the guards do not mind if you take pictures. Take that Laos!

Headed to Kanchanaburi (bridge over the river kwai) tmw after picking up my passport from the Vietnamese embassy and having my new flights figured out.