How to Travel?

Alone again!!! My sister and nephew are somewhere over the South China Sea right now and I'm 5000 miles from home and back in Bangkok happily sitting at Taewez Guest House wrapped up in a blanket of polluted fishy air and the familiar sound of tuk-tuks. When I left here three weeks ago I was fantasizing about shooting every passing tuk-tuk as they roared by in a blaze of blue smoke. After Hanoi they've regained their cute status. I do not miss the constant honking of Viet Nam. But I must say the unbelievable frenetic energy of that country, and Hanoi in particular, makes Bangkok seem like a retreat for PTSD sufferers. I'm almost happy to be back in Bangkok...almost. There is a warm and humble greeting that Thais give you upon meeting. A simple "yo" or "whattup" or "hey" in my world is transformed in Thailand into a kind of reverence for the person you are meeting. Hands in prayer position and a slight bow while uttering a soft "sawadee kap" are the mechanics behind it. What gives it the humanity and warmth is the eye contact and the sincerety of the accompanying big smile. I feel truely welcomed. Sawadee kap could mean "my ancestors would have whooped the asses of your ancestors had they met" and it wouldn't matter...I'd still melt. Upon boarding the airplane to Thailand from Hanoi I was sawadee kah'd by a beautiful Thai flight attendant. The past 2 weeks of the Viet Namese greeting, "Xin Chao", happily melted into the past. Into the nebulous and watery world of memory and unread journals. Xin chao is said in the same way we would say "yo" or "hey" with all the intended depth and connectedness. It was nice to be leaving Viet Nam even if I was bound for the crowds of Bangkok. For even in this city of 10 million (people/cars/tuk-tuks/carcinogens) the people are willing to connect. The Viet Namese less so (again, except for Phan, whom we met up with in Hanoi and took us to dinner, and was even warmer so disregard everything I've just written). Sometimes I wondered if it was because we (the U.S.) dropped over 5 million TONS of bombs on the place, and 80 MILLION gallons of toxic defoliants like agent orange. Or when the war was said and done, somewhere between 2 and 3 million Viet Namese were dead. And in the south those we just abandoned were left to be killed or "re-educated" by those in the north. Sometimes I thought about these things...when a Viet Namese wasn't too warm and fuzzy. But I have to say that we were treated amazingly well for such a recent and terrible history. Of course we were mercilessly ripped off by everyone who could. But that had more to do with being rich than being American as every tourist I talked with had similar experiences. My sister called it "the revenge of the Viet Namese" and she was able to use that phrase frequently. The Viet Namese were able to exact a painful, slow, unceasing barrage of the senses and wallet in much the same way they won the war. Small attacks, never full on. Hit and run so you only realize the damage after it has occurred. Like the time I traded in a book for another one and then actually bargained my way to a higher price than the seller originally quoted. Everyone laughed as I pulled out my dong (easy now gutterheads, dong is the currency over here!) and half way down the street I groaned out loud as I realized that "the revenge" once again had hit my wallet. Actually it's all just economics and I really think that, just like the Cambodians, everyone here wants to move on and focus on the present and the future...the past just hurts too much. BUT...this isn't what I wanted to blog about today...at all.
I need your help... some feedback. My sister and I have been having a running dialogue about travel. How to travel and what is it that makes it worthwhile and what actually is the best way to do it. One way to NOT do it is to have one person, i.e. my sister, pay for the entire trip. Don't get me wrong here...it's been great having an all expenses paid journey for the past 3 weeks. The problem is that she with the pocket book usually gets to make the final decisions. Samantha hasn't played that card at all, it's just that it is hard to make the person paying for everything stay in a place she really doesn't want to. The weird part of the scenario is that I always want to stay in places that would save her tons of money but also be a whole lot less comfortable. The second class 19 hour petri dish of a train ride is a good example (pee puddles and all). Another example is food. Viet Nam has millions of noodle stalls and street vendors where hygeine takes a back seat to "adventure". Hanoi has these street corner places where plastic step stools used as seats spill out to the curb. Kegs are out in the open pumping up the cheapest beer in the country and the corners look like a vibrant and fun way to pass the time and eat a $2.00 meal. We gave these a wide berth and dined in a beautiful french colonial restaurant that served the best ratatouille stuffed aubergine this side of Paris. Beautiful decor, great service, awesome food and a decent little house red (a bit woody maybe but with a nice finish) to wash it all down. OK, you get my point. When in France...go big! When in Hanoi sit on a stool, shoo away the occasional cockroach and eat chilies like you'll never poop again! So we discussed these diferences in travel style and tried to compromise. I whined enough about the horrors of clean sheets, air-cionditioned rooms, maid service and swimming pools to get MY way the last night of the joint trip. It is here that things went wrong...terribly wrong. Maybe it was the fact that we had been on the move all day with taxis and airplanes and schedules. Maybe it was the fact that we had stayed up till midnight the night before waiting for the hotel (mid-range compromise) staff to break the door knob off our room door so we could get in (we locked the keys inside). I think it was the combination as well as the not too distant memory of a train ride that still gives my sister scalp scratching nightmares. It all led to the inevitable and only argument of the entire trip.
I got to chose our final nights lodging in Bangkok. At $7.00/night (for the family room mind you) it's the cheapest place we've stayed in Asia (although I prefer the term inexpensive). The room we reserved had 2 large beds, air-con, and a private bath. The only problem was that the staff reserved it for the wrong day. Fancy foot work (giving us someone elses reserved room before they got there) ensured us a place to sleep. This room had two big-ish beds, AC, and a bathroom just down the hall. Samantha was definitely "NOT HAPPY" but what could we do? The place was full and we were exhausted. Samantha went off to the bathroom and came back livid. The toilets were squat style (bonus in my book!) and some splash-back ended up on her feet. Not a big deal unless the water system for the entire neighborhood was shut down...which it was. Add to this scenario the afforementioned germ phobia and things begin to teeter precariously. She was realizing that for the next two days she would be airborn, sleepy (having had only 3 hours of sleep), cranky, dirty, unwashed and possibly stinky...with pee on her feet. She was getting less happy the more she pondered. Her comment, "If I had my way I can guarantee you we would have stayed in a a neighborhood where the water system is not shut down!" didn't help my edgy tired mood. I was taking it personally as I not only chose this place, I love it. The smell of fish from the bustling market across the street has the odor of authenticity. Plus it masks the stench of the sewer gas! It was past midnight now and we were all surly and the room was hot. It was time for sleep. I turned on the AC and crawled in bed. When the air-con unit failed to respond I thought 'hey at least we have a good strong fan', but wisely chose silence knowing this would be the proverbial straw breaking her back. She doesn't sleep well without the room being cool. Her response surprised me though as she chuckled in agony; broken and reserved to an evil night of dirty teeth and sweaty sleepless tossing and turning...with pee on her feet.
As an aside, I woke up at 8:30 and the water had been restored. I took a cold shower (who needs hot water when it's so hot out anyway?) thinking how much I love budget travel and the joys of having rock bottom expectations. The handheld shower hose, if precariously balanced on the pipe coming out of the wall, allowed me to rinse my hair using both hands. The fact that I had to do so bent over at a 90 degree angle and putting my face within inches of the squatter ("hey, the skid marks are almost gone!") in no way altered my outlook.
I think there might be a problem here. Maybe my other sister Martha can find a diagnosis in the DSM-4 (ultra-low self-esteem disorder?, happy with horrible conditions condition?, self-effacement syndrome?) and email me some treatment options. God I hope not as I just got a whiff of the buckets of snails and eels from the market and I'm recalling the coast of France. Travel is good...it's all good!