Chiang Mai was my last stop in Thailand. As I left the city in the local bus, I was undeniably excited to explore the new country awaiting me — Laos. Much of my excitement was definitely due to my first scheduled stop in Laos, a program called the Gibbon Experience. The Gibbon Experience is in many ways a case study on the viability of running ecotourism in the jungles of Laos. Laos is an undeniably poor country. While measuring poverty is a complicated, and sometimes contentious affair, to give an idea of Laos’ state, it ranks 133rd out of 182 countries in the Human Development Index. Many families, especially in the northern jungles, subsist through slash and burn cultivation, which is of course extraordinarily damaging to the existing ecosystem. The Gibbon Experience is a program designed to provide an alternative to all this destruction. At its simplest the program is straightforward. By offering tourists three days and two nights in the jungle and using local Laotian guides, the program serves as a source of income to villagers living in the Bokeo Nature Reserve area. As well, the money brought in by the program provides a powerful incentive for jungle conservation.

While admirable, all this is not particularly remarkable. But what is remarkable is how tourists travel around the jungle. Simply put, tourists spend the day ziplining over the jungle canopy in insanely long lengths (think 500 metres) and the night sleeping in giant treehouses straight out of The Swiss Family Robinson. Supposedly this means of travel is less impactful to the jungle wildlife than the alternatives, such as walking on marked trails. Really? Poppycock I say, it’s just a great excuse to romp around the jungle on cable lines. Did I see any Gibbons? No way. Was it an incredible three days? You bet! It was probably the highlight of the trip, full of misadventure, near-misses, big snakes, and giant spiders. And leeches.

Hey there!

According to my blog, I’ve just left Thailand for Laos. In actuality, I’ve already traveled Laos, Cambodia, and Vietnam. But I’ve been so busy, and been accruing so many good stories, that I haven’t had the chance to update it. (Read that as I got lazy)

Anyway, even though I’m back home, I plan to continue my posts as much for my benefit as for those few still interested in my stories.

Coming up, my post and pictures of my time spent at the Gibbon experience – a trip that involved ziplining over jungle canopy.

Thank you very much to those who have been reading my blog, I really appreciate it! I hope you will enjoy the upcoming updates!

Adam

Located in Northern Thailand, Chiang Mai is one of the cultural capitals of Thailand. Layed out as a fortified square in the Chinese tradition, the old city is crammed with an astounding number of temples. Today, Chang Mai is also the jumping off point for trekking expeditions and visits to ethnic minority tribes. However I’ve heard that if you’re not careful, the tribe visits tend to contrived exhibitions set up for the sake of tourist’s cameras and money. I was going to see for myself.

After my eventful stay in Bangkok, I was ready for a little bit of peace of quiet. Nearby the city is a town called Kanchanaburi, well known as the site of the famous Bridge Over River Kwai, an integral part of the Thailand-Burma railway built by the Japanese during WW2. The railway’s more sinister moniker is the Death Railway, as it was built using POWs and Asian labourers under the most deplorable conditions imaginable. Estimates are that over a hundred thousand people died from their horrendous treatment. Today, most people have probably heard of the bridge from the famous Hollywood movie.

So off I dashed out of Bangkok on a short bus ride to Kanchanaburi. When I arrived in town, I quickly chartered a cyclo (like a tuk-tuk, but pedal powered) as I didn’t relish the prospect of a 3km walk with my big bag in the stifling heat. During the ride I marveled at the size of the driver’s calves as he powered his way through the streets. By the time we arrived at my hostel, I was incredibly sweaty but my driver had barely a drop! Amazed, I think I was still shaking my head the next day. It made me wonder if Thais were equally dumbfounded at those Westerners who profusely sweat.

I was remiss in my last post, as I should have mentioned the Italian chef I met at my guesthouse my second day in, as he serves as an excellent illustration of the manner of eccentricity you can encounter on Khao San road. I passed by his open door on my way to my own room. Looking inside, I saw a shirtless man, about 50, snoring on his bed and looking quite pickled. My passing must have woke him, as he struck up a conversation as soon as I entered my room. This may seem confusing; a conversation conducted across two separate guesthouse rooms? But, like many of the hovels in Khao San road, the walls between rooms don’t meet the ceiling. Instead, a portion between the wall and ceiling is screened off, allowing sound and light to travel between rooms.

This also allowed the pickled Italian to conduct a one-sided conversation with me, while I lied on my bed in a futile attempt at a nap. Through his barely intelligible English, I learned that he was a chef, had worked in an astounding number of locations, and was biding his time in Khao San until his next gig. He also stated with some passion that he didn’t agree with the exploitation of Thai “darlings”. An admirable conviction I thought. At this point I didn’t know that the Italian chef (I’ll call him I-chef from here on in as we never got around to names) was also a dedicated drunk.

Well now that I finally got the crash post out of the way, I suppose it’s time to catch up on my Thailand travels. Where better to start than Bangkok, and the infamous Khao San road!

I arrived from Ranong, fresh from my visa run in Myanmar, on an all-day bus to Bangkok’s Southern Terminal. It was a bustling station possessing a curious mix of modern mall and terminal-like structures next door to a chaotic and run-down local city station. Using the Lonely Planet’s instructions, I managed to locate the public local bus to Khao San road, otherwise know as backpacker ground zero for SE Asia. Having heard an overabundance of stories concerning the jostling party nature of Khao San road, I mentally prepared myself for the introduction.

The following is an account of my accident in Laos. This is a considerable jump ahead from the last post, but I thought it was notable enough to warrant an up-to-date entry. Please be assured that I as I write this I am perfectly alright. Also, when reading my account of the health services in Laos, please keep in mind that Laos is one of the poorest countries in the world. Despite this poverty, the Laotian government (specifically the tourism authorities) provided much needed and appreciated help as soon as they were aware of the accident.

The ride to the hospital was uneventful, and for Hannah and I it was also reasonably comfortable. But it felt very long and I was sick with sorry regarding Lucas and Adham. As we entered the Luang Prabang city limits and it became obvious we were nearing our destination, I caught myself looking with dread at each crumbling building I suspected of being our hospital. Thankfully, my worries of being sent to some sort of condemned facility were unfounded, as we eventually pulled up to a cheerful looking building roofed with charming red tile in the Chinese style. As I peeled myself off the truck seat I left behind a generous amount of bloody residue from my back. I didn’t mind so much, as we had finally made it to medical attention, at the Lao-Chinese Friendship Hospital.

The following is an account of my accident in Laos. This is a considerable jump ahead from the last post, but I thought it was notable enough to warrant an up-to-date entry. Please be assured that I as I write this I am perfectly alright. Also, when reading my account of the health services in Laos, please keep in mind that Laos is one of the poorest countries in the world. Despite this poverty, the Laotian government (specifically the tourism authorities) provided much needed and appreciated help as soon as they were aware of the accident.

There were seven of us traveling from Luang Namtha to Nong Khiaw. From having trekked together in the previous days, we had already developed a solid rapport and camaraderie. Joking around and poking fun at our respective foibles, we looked forward to additional days of trekking together. Unbeknownst to us, a car accident would throw all of us into a situation requiring considerable degrees of luck and resourcefulness. So I’ll start my tale from the beginning.

With our visit to Phuket finished for life, as far as Jon and I were concerned, it was time to head to the other tourist trap of Thailand, Kho Pha-Ngan. Located in the Gulf of Thailand, Kho Pha-Ngan is the island made famous for its all night (and morning) Full Moon parties. The island was also made somewhat infamous in the book and movie The Beach, where Richard the narrator, uses the island as a foil for the destruction and corruption brought about by excessive travel and tourism. Interestingly, in the movie the scenes of Kho Pha-Ngan were actually shot in Patong Bay in Phuket, which I already described in my last post. However, Kho Pha-Ngan, while still touristy, is big enough to actually support all kinds of wants. Be it partying or simply lazing on the beach, it can accommodate almost anybody’s wishes. For me, I was craving the beach-bum life for a few days.

After our outstanding introduction to Thailand, Jon and I decided to depart Krabi for Phuket. We did so with trepidation, as Phuket is Thailand’s number one tourist destination. Every day legions of vacationers fly direct from Europe to Phuket for a one or two-week stay, then hop back home. For many Phuket is all they see of Thailand.