Buddha Talk: Meditation and Mediation of Extremes

Hypertravel with Hardie #21: Malaysia and Brunei

2016 SARAWAK & BRUNEI First the backstory: I’ve been to Malaysia for almost as long and almost as often as any other place in the world, but it’s not always my destination. Because it’s usually over-shadowed by its big brother Thailand to the north or its big brother Indonesia to the south. And if that doesn’t seem to fit the statistics on foreign arrivals, then it’s likely because it straddles the megalopolis of Singapore, whose residents usually must only cross the nearby border to Malaysia to effect any sort of Foreign travel, that peninsular landmass that it once shared a government with, thanks to the British. But that was long ago now, and Malaysia has largely reclaimed its ethnic Malay ethnicity by leaving Singapore to its Chinese roots, tempered by the English language, something which brother Indonesia would never do. That peninsular landmass even includes a significant Thai population, centered on and around the northern border and the island of Penang. And I’ve been to many of those areas, including the Cameron Highlands and the eastern seaboard. But this trip is about the island of Borneo, which makes Malaysia almost as big or bigger than Indonesia or Thailand, albeit splayed out over the vast Pacific Ocean. But Borneo is still something of a revelation, and I can't help but think some backpackers are missing the boat here, literally. Malaysia was always cleaner and neater than its neighboring Third world countries, and now it's as cheap as Thai and Nepal, probably cheaper than Burma or Laos. So where are they all? They're not here, that's for sure. Outside of the resto-pub centers of Kuching, and probably Kota Kinabulu, too, there just aren't any. I didn't seen a white face for a week!!!Maybe it's because Malaysia is a Muslim country, but these people in Borneo are mostly Christians, and you know what that means: party! Yes, you'll have no problem finding a brew here, though coffee may be a different story. I'm accustomed to the local 'kopi' tasting great, but having no kick, so tend to compensate with the local Red Bull rip-offs, which have some vitamins, too, so a couple birds in the henhouse with only one buck (I do so hate to kill the local fowl)... In fact your main problem may be getting to sleep, since Muslims from drinkless f*ckless Brunei come here to get their rocks off, and the local timber workers have needs, too. The Chinese just do business, and eat eat eat. I've never seen people eat so much in my life! It seems like every meal has a dozen Chinese people around the table and the dishes just keep piling up—figure the tab later... And if you're the 'English only' type, then this is a real dialect of the language, not just the pidgin poop that passes for pahsah farang so many other places. But lingo is my Pokemon Go, my game of chance, though lingo should ideally be no game, but communication seeking its highest level, and this is not the best place for that, though better than the peninsula...At one point I was functioning at a low, but conversational level in Indonesia's similar dialect, but just gave up on the Malay peninsula. You know: you speak Malay to them, and they speak English back—brilliant. Chinese in this country usually speak three or four languages, and Malay is not their favorite, though they all have to learn it. I don't often duel with dual lingos any more, since somehow they're all connected, and I have bigger fish to fry now, like saving the species—no biggie... Warning: Window-less Rooms...I don't know where Malaysia, and the Phillipines, and Mexico, and maybe a few others, got the idea that rooms without windows are aceptable—but they're not. On Expedia, they're generally specified that way (no doubt from cruel experience), but hostel-booking sites may forego the detail. That's too bad, because I'm a hostel guy and now their WiFi isn't even reliable—and that's the reason I became a hostel guy in the first place! Not to mention the issue of fire escapes and proper egress, a technical term...So the first time it happened, I let it slide, foregoing the request to change. After three days of that I needed therapy, and arguably still do. Remember 'sensory deprivation' from the 60's? It's like that—or prison. This may prepare you for a bleak future, but I doubt it. They're air-conditioned, though, if that's your thing, so that's the trade-off. I'll pass. So I quit booking hostels here, and stuck to Expedia. Boo hoo. Of course, the problem with windows is noise from below, so pick your poison... The food is good, though—some of the best, but with some differences from Indonesia and other parts of Malaysia. Nasi lemak is a full-fledge dish in Sarawak, with full-size plate and special options for a higher price, while in Penang and KL it comes in banana-leaf packets for a quickie breakfast on the go, one of my favorites, spicy rice in the morning...And nasi campur, 'mixed rice', is a specific dish in Indonesia, but a category in Malaysia, similar to the 'nasi Padang' stalls in Indonesia, but not limited to spicy curries. In this they more resemble the kaow gaeng 'curry stalls' of Thaland, which is again a misnomer, because they have much more, specifically—vegetables, just like Malaysia. The trick is getting the right price, since they are seldom marked and open to much local interpretation, vis a vis portion size, etc...Some will even let you serve yourself, so here it gets really tricky, since you'll have no standard of reference. But they do, and they'll charge accordingly. Then there's the drink, etc. so much room for price variation. To be honest (pun), I can't say that I've ever been cheated, but there is plenty of room for questions. Prices will generally run $1-2 USD for a plate, so no biggie, just find a place you like...Malay servings are small in general, but Sarawak's are much bigger than Penang. In Malaysia's Chinatowns, especially Kuching, a restaurant is frequently 5-6 food carts rounded up into one space, each with its specialty. Did Chinese invent food courts? They did now. The local coffee tastes great, but doesn't have any caffeine to speak of, so you better look for a Starbuck's or such for that, probably doable in Kuching or KK... part 2 Only problem now is that I'm sick as a dog, far upriver in Kapit, need vitamins, need caffeine, and there seem to be none of my usual avenues for fulfillment. The caffeine part I can rig (pun), boil down Coca-Cola if I have to, with a needle and a spoon, and inject intravenously (joking). But then I find some old-fashion Nescafe, not that 3-in-1 coffee-milk that works for lady drinks. Just mix the two together, and it doesn't taste so bad, and kicks like a mule in heat (yes, I know)...Still I need vitamins. I'm sniffling and sneezing, whiffing and wheezing like a sludge pump that needs a grease job and a few new gaskets. This could get worse before it gets better, and is nasty, regardless. Where is a drugstore when you need one? Finally I find one, albeit with super-expensive vitamins, and I find a Red Bull knock-off, too, so God does provide, I'd say...Still I'm liking it. I go without a hotel reservation for the first time in 10 years, just get off the boat and start walking, just like the old days, before bus stations moved far out of town. But these boats are much better than their counterparts in Laos, especially on the Sibu end. Kapit is a little more primitive, with boats sidled up next to each other, while you pick your footing carefully to disembark...So here's the breakdown, town by town, as far as I know them: Kuching rocks with a knocked-out mocked-up waterfront and cruises in the river, picnics on the weekend and two separate Chinatowns both worthy of attention. This is a modern town, and ultimately a bit boring, reminding of Penang, and not really Sarawakian, great if you came for nightlife and sublime moments on the waterfront...Sibu has a rep as rough and tumble, and that's probably deserved, what with timber king and ladies of the night looking for a piece of the action, karaoke until almost dawn, and a night market to boot. Finding a room with window, but not on a noisy street, is the challenge, that and the fact that roads go off at all different directions, so easy to get lost. Central market is large, with goods from upriver and down...Miri is a combination of the two, not as slick as Kuching, but not as rough as Sibu—just about right, I'd say. And though not really a 'night market', there is a night boulevard of eateries, that is central, pleasant and refreshing. From here you can easily access Brunei, if that's an interest, not a bad little day-trip...And last but not least, Kapit is a small town upriver, where I am now while I write. This is small river-town Malaysia, with cars secondary to the plan. From here you continue upriver north to Belaga, or turn around and go back. If I'd known that I could go to Miri by this back route, then I might've done it, but no biggie. The place closes up at 6 pm sharp, but there are night food stlls up above; just tke the steps up by the Methodist church. Did I mention that these people are largely Christian? You know what they say about Christian girls... And there are longhouses around here, but I saw more on the ride Sibu-Miri, albeit nothing especially traditional-looking. The first time I saw one, I thought to be just a cheap apartment complex, though a rather long one. And others all in that vein, varying from modern decent to modern decrepit, defined by the fact that they're all connected...But I haven't found any of that near Kapit, though presumably they exist and are visitable on tours, the hows and wheres undetermined. Presumably you need a guide, but I've seen nothing of the sort, nor travel agencies nor tour operators. I suppose you have to ask around. But secretly I've always been in love with an imaginary riverboat town: timber and lumber keep me limber, I guess. There's just one problem: they don't exist any more...The romance of river life dates back to Mark Twain and the by-gone era when rivers were roads, and water was life, before all the automobiles and air-conditioners and convenience stores that are that but not much more. Those were simpler and better times, in many ways. The planet counted one billion people for the first time in the 1830's. Now we're over seven bil and still counting. Where does it all stop? We all know, but we can't say it, because it's bad for the economy...At day's last light you can have the cent on ral square to yourself and THOUSANDs of bats in random flight, apparently feeding the same hour's MILLIONS of insects. And then it's quiet, for most of the night, the sleep of the just, until it all starts over again the next day, at daybreak, just like God planned it—if there IS a God, and he gives a sh*t (I'm exaggerating to make a point—I'm Buddhist)...I reiterate: I think some backpackers are missing the boat here, unless you just love hanging in a little Khaosarn-like foreigners' colony in Vang Vieng or Luang Prabang or elsewhere, with hamburgers and fries and other frat-house-like commodities, and a tuk-tuk mafia of heartless bastards ready to spoil your trip. Here the guy with glasses still gets top honors and the top footballers still gets the cheerleader—and people are honest, mostly. It's refreshing... BRUNEI 301 Brunei is something completely different. Being one of the per-cap richest countries in the world, you don't have to worry about dignity, I guess, even if the wealth comes from one-off petrol pushing. Hey, if I can count layovers, then they can count oil. It all depends on what you do with it, and initial observations seem encouraging. I know these people are 'big-boned' and all, over-compensation for island dwarfism, no doubt, but these people aren't missing any meals... And there's no shortage of ostentatious flash, either, as befitting one of the richest men in the world. The domes of mosques are made of gold—nuff said. And though there is a squatter's village of 30K a five-minute boat ride from the gilded city, their cars parked on the land side show them to be no poor fishermen. Business is good. Yes, everything is subsidized, of course, that causing no shortage of tension—and strategizing—with neighboring Malaysia, but with no major problems... The hard part of visiting Brunei is just getting there, it effectively separating Malaysian Sarawak from Sabah. There is one—count 'em: ONE—bus crossing the border(s) and continuing on into Malaysia. Did I mention that you have to cross four borders? Yes, Brunei itself is bifurcated into two parts, and every crossing must get stamped, and baggazh reviewed... So I finally opted for a one-day tour, guide and all, leaving the Malaysian town of Miri at eight-ish in the manana and returning dark-thirty. AAACCCKKK!!! I'm a tourist! I feel so cheap and dirty! What would my mother say? One more thing: these were my one hundred fifty-fourth and fifty-fifth countries as defined by the UN list. I may or may not get to them all, but—who cares? The trip is the thing, not the destination... 2023 Still, all roads lead to Kl I’ve had some boring trips before, over the course of 155 countries and 50 years, but this particular incarnation of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, over three months in 2023 will probably take the fake chocolate cake for whatever it’s worth in some feeble attempt at satisfaction. But the fix was in from the start, of course, when the stated goal was ‘recovery from surgery,’ in this case bladder surgery, from the previous country, in this case Philippines. It only gets more complicated, to be sure, but the simple twist of fate is that Malaysia is the only country in SE Asia with 90-day visa-free arrival, and good healthcare, so it gets the head-bob nod, while all the others get the sleepy-head nod. After all, I’ve got an entire history in Thailand, yep, but only 30-day entries, though I’m sure that another 30 days in the Philippines itself woulda’ been no major sweat off the lobes. But my urologist in Cebu had already said he’s no fan of the surgery I’d’a preferred to start with in the situation where my bladder had ceased to function. But that’s another blog post. Bottom line: I’m looking around. With all the Filipina nurses, you might think that it might be a good med-tour destination. It’s not. I'm here now to tell you that KL DOES have good healthcare and good food and better English than BKK even on a good day, even if the nurses don’t smile quite as much. And that English that might even be better than Cebu, would probably still be less widespread. So why doesn’t Malaysia have the same level of tourism as all the nearby others? Well, the Quora Fora all hem and haw, but masjid bullhorns before dawn should probably tell you something. Long story short: you can get all the alkie you want, but anything more than that will probably involve much more surreptition... Fine by me, Buddhist scholar on a good day and slightly less on a bad one. I count my pleasures in conch shells, not conquests, and Malaysia has plenty to offer on those fronts, even if KL ain’t your cuppa. Still, it’s interesting. Malaysia is a sandwich, a cultural sandwich, with Malay bread on the bottom, roti, like rice, vast and unwashed, and Chinese sweetbread on top, dessert highly refined and not so concerned about what’s underneath. In between are dribs and drabs of this and that, Tamil Indians and tribal Austronesians and whoever else got lost in the neighborhood and couldn’t find a home elsewhere, except the Singaporeans. They can stay where they are. The point is: they don’t mix, not really. I suspect that my own command of Bahasa Malay is as good as many ethnic Chinese Malaysians. Chinese Malaysians don’t eat the Malay food and would appear on the surface to despise it—and them. And the feeling may well be mutual. But I can’t speak for anyone’s feelings. I only report what I see. The irony is that their deep ancestry is very similar; they are not a different race by any means. Fortunately, I did have the opportunity to see the community of ethnic Chinese Malaysians up close, since they have an old Buddhist temple on the warehouse/market street that I also inhabit, and so we became friends. The highlight of that friendship was the traditional tea ceremonies that I witnessed there in the temple with shifu and elsewhere as part of my guided tour. It’s fascinating and nothing short of amazing that such traditional aspects of the culture linger on into the present day. But isn’t Chinese culture nothing if not traditional? What I did not see—and I was looking—was any real connection to the Chinese mainland homeland itself—no. The Chinese-language TV shows come from Hong Kong and Taiwan, but no evidence of the looming lumbering CCP hovering in the background. Even perhaps more surprising was the relative lack of Singapore’s presence. Fortunately, I had been to Malaysia before, and KL, too, so nothing is really lost by my decision not to cruise, local or statewide, not when it’s very hot and rains almost every day, and I’m not strong enough to travel, anyway, not really. And the real drama is what’s going on in my body, which I’m writing up separately, but which I may or may not ever publish, haha. So my forays were pretty much limited to the Chow Kit area of KL in general, and the Jalan Raja Bot market area in particular, and frankly, that ain’t bad, not for an old hand, non-tourist. Food is ubiquitous, both Chinese and Malay, and the place lights up at night like a hundred-dollar whore who just got paid—with everything but the whore. This is a Muslim country, remember. It’s almost like parallel runways, Jalan Raja Bot is, with that main street of Chinese warehouses terminating into a large market area, bounded on the far opposite side by the evening eats area, which I haven’t seen late at night. The near opposite street is the midnight market, though, and really doesn’t shut down until about 3-4 a.m. This is all food and assorted merchandise, though, so not the booze-laden scene that Thailand becomes after dark, and much less than midnight. Still, it’s not uncommon for the scene to break out into song locally, and the vibe is generally good. What Malaysia adds to the typical SE Asian cuisine, beyond the typical Chinese and Malay offerings, is a healthy dose of Indian fare, also, especially south Indian, courtesy of the resident local Tamils and their descendants. So, it’s something of an Asian smorgasbord, everything but the girl. This ain’t Thailand. Still, people—including women—are friendly enough, if not meretricious, and that counts for a lot. A smile is still a smile whether under a veil or a thousand-dollar ‘do. But Malaysian is nothing if not one giant food court. Dishes and digs are significantly cheaper than big bro’ Singapo’, too, so no more than Bangkok, really, if not Chiangrai, jaow. Did I mention that hospitals are ubiquitous? I’ll be back.

Buddha Talk: Buddhism in an Imperfect World

Buddha Talk: Buddhism and Mindfulness

Hypertravel with Hardie #18: South Thailand

#18 South Thailand 2013 First the back story: my long coexistence with Asia, specifically SE Asia, is almost first and almost foremost with Thailand, beginning in 1992, mostly with Chiang Mai, to whatever extent anyone can truly circumvent Bangkok. That’s only logical, since CM is the main focus of Thailand’s handicraft trade, and that was my game back then, long since established, for at least a decade, in Latin America and looking to expand by this time. And, within five years, CM would be the central point of my business, even after I chose to live in Chiang Rai to the north. This is after spending almost half that same decade in Vietnam, and only gradually closing my business in Latin America. But my travel urge never really died, undergoing something of a minor peak around 1997, the year that I finally decided on Thailand, over Cambodia, China, Indonesia, Laos, and Vietnam already mentioned. The logical goal then is to see all of Thailand, and if the Isaan northwest is the first goal; after Bangkok and the north, then soon the south presents itself as an equal if not better choice. Note that it is almost impossible to see all of Thailand in any one trip, so this narrative reflects that, as the south gradually became most important to me there. So, this trip starts in 2013, and focuses on the Songkhla are, where I would eventually go to ‘monk school’ in 2017. Still, all roads lead to Bangkok, and so that’s where this story starts, with bars, clubs, and pubs, ho hum. Fortunately, there’s a train straight to Songkhla. Christmas in Thailand: Songkhla I hadn't been in Songkhla in a dozen or so years, so jumped at the chance to put it back in the itinerary. After successively postponing and/or canceling trips to Bhutan and Burma, I was left with a hole in my schedule, so this fits the bill nicely. It's different. Normally when you think of southern Thailand, you think of tourist mega-resorts like upscale Phuket or backpacker havens Koh Samui, Pha Ngan or Tao. Then there are Koh Lanta, Krabi, Phi Phi, and countless others. Or if you're thinking about the dangerous and rebellious Thai Muslim 'three southern provinces', then you're talking Yala, Narathiwat, Pattani, or some other places that've made big bad news in the last decade's separation struggles. Then there are the boring provincial Thai cities of Nakhorn Sri Thamarat, Surat Thani, or others best known as transit points. Songkhla doesn't fit any of these easy categories. It has tourist interest, but almost no one goes there, Thais included. For one thing Songkhla's difficult—but scenic—position between sea and inland lake have kept organic growth slow, and access cumbersome. For another, its beaches have pine trees, not palms, and its most frequent visitors are likely Muslims from Malaysia, picnicking on the beach fully clothed. Songkhla likes to advertise itself as Thailand's original southern resort city, but that must date to a time when Marseilles was France's and Acapulco Mexico's. There are plenty of Western foreigners here, but they're not tourists; they're offshore oil workers. That's Songkhla's claim to wealth and fame, that and fishing and rubber plantations. Those workers all need entertainment, of course, so this is your last chance for whoring and drinking before the fundamentalist Muslim south, more fundamentalist than its Malay-national cousins across the border, I reckon. Sometimes you have to overstate a case just to make a point, I guess. The Thai southern separatists are more about politics than religion, anyway, I think, ethnic Malays who find themselves on the wrong side of the line that divides countries. There are many Thai-speaking Siamese on the other side, too, including many who reject the term 'Thai' for their ethnicity, 'Siamese' preferred. It's complicated. Songkhla itself is not so complicated, though, just bizniz and fun as usual, with only a few references to Malay language to remind one that danger is not far away. There are Muslims scattered over most all parts of Thailand, and for the most part coexistence is peaceful. And until recently, at least, with increasing fundamentalist sentiment, about the only distinction from other Thais was their refusal to eat pork, otherwise drinking and whoring with the rest. That has changed lately, at least somewhat. But Songkhla hasn't changed much, not from the first time I was here fifteen years ago, or the second time twelve years ago. That second time I fell in love and left precipitously rather than face the fact that the object of my affection was a special order for one of the local oil-field helicopter pilots. She needed money for her grandmother's hospital bill. By the time I knew what was happening, it was too late. She was an Isaan girl, and I'm sure long gone by now, but he may still be here. You never know. That little anecdote largely defines the situation here, foreigners with money all out of proportion to the locals' meager earnings, though earned locally, many of them Scots with experience in the North Sea, Saudi A, or even Nigeria. Fortunately I've done a stint as an oil-field roughneck, so I know the drill and the lingo. Most are pretty nice guys, too, albeit with usually only a tenuous relationship with the locals. So I gravitate to the bar with Nirvana on the play list, playing straight off of YouTube on a full-size screen, atmosphere more than making up for whatever the system lacks in fidelity. This is the Corner Bar, and Tom is the owner. He might as well be the King of Scotland, as far as I'm concerned. These guys are not stingy. For every drink I've bought, I think I've gotten at least two more free, often not even knowing who the generous donor is. I could get used to this, if I could get used to alcohol at all. I've been out of practice for years. There's only one rule: “No politics,” and that's probably wise, since there are US oil-field workers here, too. I doubt they voted for Obama. But after two nights of drinking, I'm in a daze. I really prefer an almost tee-total existence, like the last five years, but I also prefer some social intercourse, so you can't have it both ways. I'm teetering between a lost weekend and the dark night of my soul, uncertain as to how all of this plays out, while saving something for Christmas, at least, which should be interesting. It is, but I've had too much alcohol. These bloody Scots can drink me under the table. I should go see some more of the south while I've got the chance. Still it might be worth checking Songkhla out again, in a different season. If there's a dry season, then I don't know when it is. Floods were big in the news until recently, and even now it's cloudy and rainy much of the day... and hot. Any amount of exertion will yield an equivalent amount of water in the form of sweat, to the point that you might as well wash the item, since you'll have to wait for it to dry regardless. I do this two or three times a day, every day. It gets old. Thank God for air conditioning. Songkhla isn't perfect, but Thailand is something of a safe haven for me, and that's nice in many ways. I just have to define the terms. I'll be back. In South Thailand They Like it Hot... and Sweet The food down south, fierce and fiery, is renowned even amongst Thais for its spiciness. That includes yellow curries, and of course seafood, a welcome addition for us semi-vegetarians quickly backsliding into ovo-lacto-chicketarianism. Then there are the sweets, similar to the rest of Thailand, and heavily based on the use of coconut, or at least the 'milk' (not to be confused with the 'water'). This is native to the south, of course, and likely the point of dissemination toward the north, along with much of 'Thai' cuisine, curries originally from Malaysia, Indonesia, and the Indian sub-continent, in my theory, at least. There is also 'Muslim food', which is really not so much different, to be honest, and which I take to be vindication of my theory of southern origins. Still they make a distinction in numerous eateries, mostly in the oldest part of town. You won't find pork, there, though, that's for sure, and that's the main difference. BTW be careful with the coconut milk. Over-indulgence can have a constipatory effect, as I found out the hard way years ago during a brief love affair with sticky rice and mango. That's a triple whammy I don't want to repeat. That's What I Like About the South—Thailand, that is... If southern Thailand is a masala mix of tourism, ex-pats, rebellion, and boredom, then Trang somehow finds itself at the center of it all. And while it has few attractions of its own in the city proper, that in and of itself is one of the attractions. That is a Backpacker Principle: authentic is better, as long as it's not boring. Trang is not, though I have yet to see a go-go or 'dark side' (a la Songkhla) bar, good deal. It doesn't have the old-fashioned and well-defined Sino-Portuguese shop-house district of Songkhla, but that's an anomaly in Thailand peculiar to Songkhla. At the same time it's got more than the typical boring layout of 50's-era Stalinesque architecture, typically defined by a sh*t-stained white exterior that has obviously only been painted once in its stressed-out life. Trang reminds me a bit of Chiang Rai up north, actually, with a fairly well-defined center and tangents streaming off at all angles. And at that center is the railroad station, very convenient, and something hard to find in this day and age of remote transportation 'centers.' The problem for us authenticity-seekers is to find that authenticity and isolate it from all the rest of the mass-market BS. My favorite thing about southern Thailand, besides all the seacoast (not to be confused with beach), and the connections to neighboring Malaysia, are all the birds—the ones in cages. This seems to be peculiar to the entire region, and while the birds seem fairly ordinary, though quite audible, the cages themselves are very beautiful, wooden waxed and polished to a high sheen. And the connections to neighboring Malaysia are numerous, down to the curry-based cuisine and the tuk-tuks which look more like Indonesian becaks than Thai tuk-tuks. They also have two short benches in the back, more like Thai seelors or songtaews. I also like the little glimpses of history poking out from behind weathered teak, as much Malay and Chinese as it is Thai. There is even a sizable Christian presence here, which definitely precedes the current evangelical movement. Most of the tourist attractions here are centered around nature—caves and waterfalls, in addition to the beaches. That's nice enough, of course, but many typically look like most of the rest. I'm a culture vulture foremost if not first, and that's more prevalent in the cities. Though I love Nature intensely, if I focused entirely on that, then I'd be remiss. A visit to a rubber plantation might be nice, though, the product still known here by the Brazilian province the first trees were smuggled out of: Para. It'll wait I guess. I persevere in my search for authentic experience. Trang may not be the end of that search, but it's not a bad stopover. From here I catch the train back to Bangkok. P.S. I just realized something: I've only seen one 7-11 in Trang. I didn't notice until I needed one. This is huge! On the down side, this is the only place I've ever seen Buddhist monks smoking cigarettes, two so far; so much for non-attachment. Soon they'll be 'vaping', I guess. Meanwhile back in Bangkok, the ongoing political struggles between the two political factions best known as red and yellow, populist and royalist, only now increased by the blue and purple, probably best described as progressive and conservative. They all make good food. 2017 Fast forward to 2017 and I’ve not only done my first meditation retreat at Wat Suan Mokh in south Thailand, but I’ve completed my first semester at IBC Buddhist college near Hat Yai. I then converted to online study and am now on my way north to escape the torrential December rains and look for a place to hang semi-permanently, maybe Cambodia. But first there will be stops in Hua Hin, and Trat, almost on the seacoast border with Cambodia. That may have ended my flirtation with south Thailand, but it only started my flirtation with Cambodia. I cam back to south thailand the the defense of my master’s thesis in 2019, but I haven’t been back south since, only north, always a second home for me.

Buddhism: Life, Love, and the Pursuit of Happiness

Buddhism: Cooling the Fires of Kilesha

Hypertravel with Hardie #20: North Thailand

Buddha Talk: the Science of Silence...

Buddha Talk: Save Yourself, the Save the World...