Dave the Nomad

It is hard to believe that this home of 26,000 people was once a burned out post-industrial site. Today, Hammarby Sjöstad is a famed urban redevelopment site with glorious visionary beginnings in the mid 1990s. Forward thinking Swedish turned the area into a proposed Olympic Village for the 2004 Olympic Games, and after the Olympic bid came and passed, the area was turned into a sustainable neighborhood and model for other countries. I was fortunate enough to talk to Marlena Karlsson, who is the Information Officer at Hammarby’s Visitor Center, the Glaushusett.

Marlena pointed out some of the innovative technologies that went into making Hammarby a success including a vacuum system to send sorted waste to recycling or the nearby combustion plant, where the waste is burned and used for electricity and water purification. This impressive scheme is certainly innovative and new, but even Marlena points out: “It is still a system dependent on us producing waste.” As the Swedish mindset seems to go, this is just another hurdle in the constantly evolving model of sustainability.

During the 1970’s, the USA and Sweden took very different approaches to handling the petroleum crisis. At the time, Sweden was among the most oil dependent countries in the world, and with a bit of wisdom they realized this type of lifestyle was not going to be possible in the future. This spurred a large government-backed district heating initiative, which provided basic water-heating to the citizens of Sweden, and sparked a change in everyday living. Niklas Dahlberg, of the Swedish Institute, pointed out: “…the focus in Sweden is more on ecology and harmony with nature. We are quite unique in that regard… the size of our country really makes this possible.”

Examples of this ecological cycle are also present in Hammarby Sjöstad, from the use of green space to an emphasis on natural building materials, and the use of plants to help minimize the impact of run-off water on the surrounding bodies of water. Moreover, waste water is also treated to produce clean water, and the remaining biosolids are transformed back into energy for the public transportation system, and electricity needs.
This urban model attracts people from the USA, Canada, China, and South America to its doors, and will continue to in the coming years. In an effort to reduce the impact on our future generations and eliminate the current burden we will place on their shoulders for our well-being, the question remains as to who will be the most successful at making their own Hammarbys

Feel free to visit Hammarby Sjöstad’s website here, and click on the English link on the right!

As it seems I am continually fortunate and lucky to find myself traveling again, I’ve devoted a section of my website as a compilation of my studies on Sweden’s Sustainability Initiatives. This trip is possible thanks to a generous grant I won from the US Department of State and the Swedish Institute’s 2010 Swedish-American Exchange Fund, which was set up in 1976 as a two-hundred year birthday gift to the United Stated from Sweden. My study will focus on the innovation, culture, and feasibility of one of the world’s most influential sustainable systems.

I’ll be capturing my experiences here in various media in hopes of relaying a message of possibility back to my fellow Americans. The underlying objective is to create a simple and clairvoyant proposal for a more sustainable lifestyle by developing a case study of Sweden’s journey to a sustainable future.

I’ll be traveling around the country talking with industry leaders and progressive minds in Stockholm, Goteborg, Vaxjo, Karlskrona, and Malmo to hopefully develop a more sustainable America. As always, I am open to your comments and feedback via my blog or e-mail (david.a.loomis @ gmail.com) from any like-minded, opposed, or just curious people and groups. You can follow my daily activity via twitter as well! Thanks for your interest.

The past few weeks of lightning speed travel has been a seemingly fast forwarded version of my trip. The looming end to my world trip often finds me preoccupied with thoughts of home and returning to a semi-permanent lifestyle. I’m currently on a 44-hour long ferry from Shanghai to Japan collecting my thoughts on China as we skim along the clear blue sea.

China’s large cities are minor variations of each other. Beijing is like Shanghai, but not, and Shanghai is like Hong Kong, but not quite, and so on. The yuan profits of the ‘made in China’ export army are thrown around with excess in these Special Economic Zones, eerily cosmopolitan places capable of being in any developed country. Thankfully, the back-street charm of these cities still came alive with a walk down unknown and untidy streets to ad-hoc markets and awe-struck stares.

Only in China have I felt like the tourist attraction. I decided to climb Tai Shan, the holiest mountain in Taoism en route from Shanghai to Beijing. Oddly, this beautiful mountain town is hidden from most foreigners itineraries. As I climbed on clean cut stairs through manicured hillsides, engraved rocks, and graceful slopes, I felt like there was something missing….it was my fellow foreign traveler. As I neared the top of almost 7000 steps and the respective mountaintop, I was fully aware of my status as the token foreigner, the throngs of coordinated hats, flags, and families pulsed past me as I took a photo. A timid group of teenagers approached me and asked for a photograph, ten minutes later I entertained my final consecutive request for a photo and continued hiking around the enclave of mountain-top temples. Later, outside Tiannamen Square I was again posing with babies, and sheepish elderly couples. The switch of roles was a great perspective change; flattering in its scarcity and overwhelming in overzealous repetition.

As with many reminiscent thoughts, my opinion of Beijing finds the good moments washing away the lurid memories of head-ache inducing pollution, pungent wafts of stinky tofu, and incessant traffic. I had a great time abandoning my map and meandering through the maze of corridors of the Forbidden City connecting the many gardens and palaces. I spent the next day strolling through the Summer Palace; the Chinese version of the Palace of Versailles. The larger than life complex is beautifully set on a hillside with moats, ponds, and an impressively large mucky green lake. Yet, something was odd about all of these spectacles, an aura of fake Disneyland oozed from everything. The word ‘reconstruction’ has a different meaning in China; preservation and precision are extra credit options if time allows once the concrete is poured and the paint is un-lovingly applied.

Based on my experiences with skyscrapers and cookie cutter history China, I was looking for something a bit more down to earth and unscathed by modernism. I stumbled upon an advertisement for a “Secret Great Wall Tour,” and decided however cliche, it would be my best chance at seeing a portion of the Great Wall unsaved from nature’s revenge. Early the next morning, I piled into a small minivan with a handful of other like-minded people, sweated through a stop-start dance out of the city, and halted in a small village in Heibi province to pick-up an old lady. A few miles down the road we were unceremoniously ushered out of our vehicle and told to start following our guide. After a half hour of hiking through brush land covered hills, a dilapidated, yet grandiose, wall stood before us. For the next three hours we hiked to our hearts content along the unpreserved, untouched, and wildly overgrown wall. Happily tired, our guide brought us down a different path back into town and ushered us into a small restaurant for a local all-vegetarian lunch spread.

Although there is a plethora of different lifestyles in China including Muslims and vegetarians, there remains a phrase I knew I would have to test, “if it moves, it is eaten.” Small roadside squatters sold anything from toads, frogs, eels, and odd fish, to ornate skin-designed peaches and the delicious Peking duck. My only experiences with odd eats so far on this trip was a small assortment of fried bugs, and a whole tarantula in Phom Phenh. The surprisingly tasty, albeit extra crunchy, arachnid left me open to trying more. The night food market in Beijing, infamous for bizarre eats, was to be the true proving grounds. The menu follows:

After a night of apologizing to my stomach with no real adverse side effects I found myself returning to Shanghai to catch my ferry, happy to leave, and excited to return. I only tasted a sliver of this massive country, and encountered a small sub-section of its population. My coastal, mainly big city, tour of China was a good experience, but I find myself longing to return to the far reaches of this modern empire, to the ancient relics and hidden valleys. For now, I will continue to sway across the water on our ferry.

I was fortunate enough to get a double entry visa into China, which meant I was able to visit Hong Kong whenever I wanted, as it requires its own visa entry, although considered a part of China. I took a flight from Hanoi to Guangzhou, which is a few hours outside of Hong Kong, and took a series of taxis and buses to Hong Kong, where I planned to stay with one of my good friends Kristin. Kristin and I went to high school together, and shortly after getting married, Kristin left with her husband Grant to live in Hong Kong.

I was excited to catch up on life, and talk to friends from the states. Before I could do that I had a small run in with the authorities while leaving Vietnam. I approached the immigration desk at the airport like so many times before, expecting a wave of the hand. There was no queue, and I walked up to the smiling officials who stared at my passport and then at my face for quite a while. Then they pointed at my ear, and asked me if I had surgery on it. I was completely taken back by the question and said no. One of the officers left to get a second opinion, and after a few moments a three star official was brought over, who kindly ushered me into a back room. The whole time the officers seemed to be suppressing a certain level of smiling and laughing, but were stoic enough for me to be concerned.

Once I was in the small sparsely filled office I was asked to produce as many pieces of identification and photos possible for comparison. They then asked me to turn my head in various odd contortions which reminded me of the awkward positions the photographer seemed to love for school portraits while growing up. After 15-20 minutes of indecisive examination of my ear, they asked me to reproduce my signature a half dozen times, and than started going through the pages of my passport. They asked me to recite when and for how long I was in each country… I chuckled a bit to myself, and then started racing through any benchmark dates on my trip. Thankfully, they were happy with my answers and I was finally allowed to proceed to my plane.

I found my friend’s apartment without any difficulty, and after a brief 2 am conversation I got to sleep in a real bed without a check-out time, figuring out what I was going to eat for breakfast, or what to do / see all day. Since Grant and Kristin had to work all-day, I occupied myself with sight-seeing around the island group, until they were free in the evening. The spectacular sky-scrapers hugging the coasts of the hilly islands are great to marvel at, but otherwise this hub of commerce isn’t much else than a cosmopolitan city. There were a couple morsels worth seeing, including taking the tram to the top of Hong Kong Island, and hiking around the beautiful pathways, and my favorite the free open-air aviary in Hong Kong Park. Probably the most impressive aspect of Hong Kong is its versatile, efficient, and widespread transportation system, and its oh-so-easy Octopus Card. The Octopus Card not only lets you breeze through ticket queues, but you can use it similar to university cards at participating stores as cash!

My visit to Hong Kong was quite unique for two reasons: Grant and Kristin. Grant and Kristin play on an ultimate frisbee league, and they have traveled extensively to other asian countries for tournaments in their spare time. They happened to be having an inter-league game my second night there, and asked if I would like to play. Now, my experience playing frisbee has been limited to pick-up games in university, and out-of-season with my swim team which usually turned into muddy tackling sessions by the end. The least to say, I was a bit nervous, but happy to give it a shot. Even if they pulled me off the field after a few minutes.

The Hong Kong league was divided into four teams, and Grant and Kristin’s team was aptly called ‘the Smurfs.’ We went out for some cheap and delicious sushi in Causeway Bay before the game, and I got to meet some of the other players. Everyone was really nice, and very helpful in explaining the rules while we warmed up. The explained their strategies and lingo, and before long we were starting the game against the black team. The humble smurfs were hesitant to tell me, but this was the best team in the league, and they were hoping to not get too squashed.

The smurfs put me in as what they called deep-deep position, which meant I basically tried to stay open and wait for the Hail Mary pass. I ended up scoring twice! It was a good moral boost, and I was happy to be running around doing some physical exercise again. The smurfs played really well, and managed to beat the black team with a considerable lead. Grant and Kristin were both superbly better than I, and were very good team players. I was proud of my friends, their abilities, and the traveling they got to do because of it. After the match, we went out for a few celebratory drinks, and left to get some much needed rest.

The second night, Grant and Kristin brought me to the horse race track. Several other frisbee players had never been, so we all went off to the races! We met at a restaurant / bar called ‘the Chapel,’ and had some spicy Indian food before walking a short distance over to the track. I’d never been to the races before, and found it to be quite an experience. We bought the non-tourist tickets for 10 HKD (~1.50 USD), and spent a little money placing bets based on stats, funny names, or pure chance. As a group we faired… poorly. I managed to only loose a few dollars a race, while others like Grant who would bet all-or-nothing on one horse were charitable causes to the track owners. We took an inconspicuous elevator to an upper level filled with race junkies gripping their stat sheets and smoking through a flurry of cigarettes.

Nonetheless, we had a good time filling in punch cards (unlike standardized testing), and watching the race. The next day, I said goodbye to my friends, and more importantly fantastic hosts, and headed off to Shanghai. Its always hard to leave friends, even harder to leave a home, and yet I am off again.

As I knew from my water blessing by the monks in Siem Reap, the Cambodian New Year was approaching, and I was happy to leave the country before the holidays started. Unfortunately, my bus was stuck in gridlock traffic leaving the country, and we arrived in Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon) about 5 hours late.

I only spent two weeks in Vietnam, as I am behind schedule, and wanted to spend as much time in China to make up for the high cost of my visa; this also meant I missed out on visiting Laos. Before traveling to Vietnam, I talked to many fellow travelers who were unimpressed with Vietnam, and said it embraced too much cookie-cutter tourism ploys; sadly I had couldn’t disagree.

Vietnam is a war-torn country which is striving to find its identity again after years of tumultuous fighting with the French, Chinese, and Americans in the last century. I do not want to belittle the conflict that has taken place here, but it seems the new war in Vietnam is that of the wayward traveler trying to find genuine people to meet, and glimpses into the real Vietnam. The devastating effects of chemical deforestation and charred towns has offered Vietnamese level ground; perfect to build a vast tourism industry. Unfortunately, this means everyone looks to foreign money for income, be it hokey tours or straight exploitation. The native faces are bent in latent unwelcoming angry poses, unless there is a chance you will be giving them money. It is a stark difference from the Thai’s beaming smiles and amiable attitude.

I visited the War Remnants Museum in former Saigon, which presented ‘the American War’ in biased favor of the Viet Cong, making a one-sided argument against the oppression of foreign influence. However, it was hard to ignore the grotesque effects of deforesting agents like Agent Orange on the Vietnamese population.

I found myself trying to make the most of the country, and started by negotiating with a local to take me to a non-tourist section of the Cu Chi Tunnels outside of Saigon. The Cu Chi Tunnels is an infamous area north of the Mekong Delta and west of Siagon were Vietnamese embedded their livelihood underground, and waged a successful guerrilla front against occupying forces. There is a group of original tunnels about 25 km away from the touristy widened tunnels for the larger foreigner clientèle, which are rarely visited, which I planned to check out with Travis from Vancouver.

After riding on the back of mopeds for almost two hours we stopped for lunch, our guide tried to bring us to the tourist tunnels, hoping we wouldn’t notice the two dozen buses in the large parking lot. Unimpressed with his sly ploy he reluctantly brought us the rest of the way to the other tunnel system. This area was tastefully developed into a beautiful park, but it was hard to see more than a handful of other people. The tour was informative, and fun, and I was happy to take the extra time to visit the real thing. I managed to squeeze into one of the real-life sized VC holes, and enjoyed putzing through the underground maze of rooms.

After leaving the moped insanity of Saigon, I went to the beach towns of Mui Ne and Nha Trang. Both of these were a pleasant escape from the city. Mui Ne is a kite-surfing haven, but unfortunately the winds were unkind, and I instead visited the nearby red sand dunes, and white sand dunes. Although they were very beautiful, they were paltry in comparison to Warren Dunes close to my home in Indiana; at best they were 1/3 the size of my hometown dunes. Nha Trang was a nice town, but very over-priced with highlights including a water park, and cheap scuba diving. Thankfully, I visited both of these towns with a large group of friends, and we made the most of these beach side towns. My favorite experience was walking along the beach in Nha Trang near the famous Sailing Club bar and being offered a platter of decadent shellfish for only 10 euro. Our host for lunch was a petite Vietnamese woman who was jolly, insisted on dancing with her fingers in the air and shouting, “Oh My God! Delicious!” as she roasted our food on a small wood fire while wearing her blue moped helmet. The food was fantastic, and it was a nice change to see a smiling Vietnamese person.

The last stop of on my journey was in the capital Hanoi. I insisted on taking the local 22-hour train instead of the flight as I firmly believe this is a better way to meet real people in any country. Thankfully, Vietnam upheld these expectations just as I was losing hope. My five Vietnamese cabin mates stared at me as we prepared to sleep through the night. I was awakened in the morning to one of the guys poking me with food and a beer they bought me. Now, this wouldn’t be as much of an issue if they decided to wake up at a casual time, but the cabin was alive with activity at 7 am. Furthermore, I can firmly say having a beer can cracked open in your face is not the most pleasant way to wake up, but I was happy to have the hospitality. My beer and vinegar egg and rice breakfast wasn’t the most appetizing, but the smiling faces certainly were.

I stepped off the train in Hanoi rested, and ready to stretch my legs. I opted not to travel to Halong Bay as I had a limited amount of time, and there was no good way to visit the beautiful bay filled with steep jutting islands without paying a ghastly amount for a day trip, or avoiding poorly reviewed cheaper options. I decided this would be a great jumping off point on a return trip to visit Laos and the Philippines, and stuck to exploring the city limits before heading off to China. I like to think with more time, Vietnam will emerge a country proud of its heritage, willing and capable of holding its traditions over tourism…and I also like to think with more time to explore it, I would be able to find the Vietnam I was truly out to experience.

Many people have heard of Angkor Wat, but what they don’t realize is this is just one religious building in a massive complex of ancient ruins, dwarfing places like Pompei or the Taj Mahal. As I had mentioned, I met up with Pat and Mary in Siem Reap, and we caught up on life and travels over a few beers. They planned to get up early to watch sunrise over Angkor Wat. I passed, and decided to sleep. I bought a three day pass to the ruins, and used every minute of it.

On the first day, I rented a bicycle for a few dollars and headed off in the general direction of the temples. After about 10 km of small road biking I somehow entered the park on a back road. Unfortunately, this doesn’t help as they check your ticket before entering each temple. I backtracked to the entrance gate, and met a group of people who ran into the same problem as me. We biked back to the temples, and made Angkor Wat our first stop.

Angkor Wat is a phenomenal structure. Before you can see the Wat you stare at the impressively large moat surrounding the symmetrical complex. Although I expected the towers to be twice as high, the place is still very impressive with inner layer after inner layer of intricate carvings and vast Bas reliefs. We went back to our bikes and set off for the Royal Center of Angkor after a solid haggling by the 10-year-old business gauntlet.

The scorching heat was tolerable, but it left us guzzling water, and wanting to get back on the bikes just to get some moving air. We wanted to see as many of the different temples as possible without getting overdose, which we commonly referred to as “templed-out.” We had just visited the Bayon which is distinct from the other ones thanks to its several meter high faces staring in the cardinal directions.

We wanted to visit Ta Prohm next, but made a very impromptu stop at a newer looking temple with a large Buddha statue. The monks told us it was only 20 years old. Off to the side we noticed a family sitting on a small stone balcony getting absolutely soaked by a monk as he chanted and threw bowl after bowl of water on them. A few of the younger monks were happy to entertain our questions about wha was happening. He explained the ritual was part of the Cambodian New Year. Once a year families come to the temple to be blessed for good luck in the coming year.

Then they asked us if we wanted to do it. After several hours of sweaty biking, the decision was simple, and 15 minutes later it was our turn to be soaked. We gave our cameras to the monks, and proceeded to get soaked by the eldest monk. It was refreshing, and hard to keep a straight face as the monk paparazzi took more pictures than I had the whole day. It was a great experience, and a refreshing change from the tourism machine in which we were immersed.

The following day, I decided to get a tuk-tuk with Sheri to see the other temples, including Ta Prohm which was the backdrop of Lara Croft Tombraider. The bizarre and exotic roots climbing through and around the ruins were absolutely stunning. Besides this highlight, I was starting to get templed out. After convening with the other we decided to visit two temples much farther away on the third day. One of these was created entirely by women, and is believed to be the origin of Khmer culture. The other is carved into the banks of a small stream with a waterfall.

The first temple we visited was sadly, packed with tourist buses, and hard to find a quiet place to stare at the beautiful carvings. They said women built it because there’s no way a man could give such attention to detail to each piece. A bit jilted by the temple, we had higher hopes for the waterfall temple.

The waterfall temple had a much more promising start, as there were only a few tuk-tuks in the parking lot. We hiked for about 20 minutes up the hillside and found ourselves at a small stream with some carvings and linga carved into the surrounding stone. The trickle of water was disappointing, and there were no building to be found. Thankfully, the waterfall was perfect. We promptly jumped in the water to cool off and relax. Although it was the dry season, there was enough water to give you a good back massage, butterflies flickered around the sun spots on the rocks, and small fish swam around the trash free pools. It was a good end to the temple sight-seeing. I was happy to find a few things off the beaten path here, and it really helped make this a great experience.

I took another overnight bus back to Bangkok, and hung out with a Thai friend I met in Madrid while waiting for my Chinese visa. Wasinee had to work during the days, but we caught up over a couple nights of dinner and wandering the streets. Getting my Chinese visa was virtually painless compared to my Indian visa adventures in Turkey. I simply handed my passport over without filling in a form, and picked it up two days later, and $200 poorer.

Ready for my trip, I boarded a bus for Siem Reap, which is the major town outside Angkor Wat. The plan is to get the Cambodian visa at the border, and take a mini-bus the rest of the way. After a brief stop for lunch where our guide tried to have us pay almost three times as much for our visa through his agency, we were back on the bus to the border town of Poipet. We arrived in a nice strip of shops and well kept roads, and started walking to the border. On the other side was a plume of dust rising from the road, and suddenly the people were not smiling anymore.

While walking to the customs office our guide offered to take care of our visas for only 1000 baht (it was 1400 baht at lunch), but the visa only costs 650 baht. I was happy to wait an hour in line to save the money and pressed onward. Our guide walked in before us, jabbered to the immigration officials, and sat us down to fill out papers. When it came time to pay, the officials wanted 1100 baht. I knew something was fishy, so I nonchalantly asked for a receipt with my passport. No one was willing to sign off on it. No one wanted to admit how much the visa cost.

Perturbed, I stood in line, got my visa stamped, and politely asked how much the visa cost. They said it was 650 baht. I asked if they could tell me why I paid the guy 40 feet away 1100 baht, and why he couldn’t just give me a receipt. They said it was for “fast process, no wait.” I was fine with that if someone could own up to signing a piece of paper. I walked out, looked at the guy in charge, who couldn’t hold eye contact, and told him to have a beer on me, and put his children in a good school.

Our guide agreed to get a taxi for myself and a nice Irish couple I had met so we wouldn’t have to take the 6 hr long non AC mini bus. Before we could do that we were put on a bus to listen to some guy talk about Cambodia, hyper-sweat for 10 minutes, and walked back off the bus which only went about 100 meters, and were ushered to the back of the taxi building to get a taxi. We asked why we were out back, and he said, “special priority, you skip all others.”

Our taxi driver took off, flying down the dust blown roads, honking so frequently, I wondered if he hadn’t just attached it to a CAM shaft on the engine. I was back in India.

In India, you could do anything for a price. The scam artists are God, and sometimes you have no other option. Trash was splayed like spring flowers, cows aimlessly roamed the streets, and our driver was driving on the left side of the road (you drive on the right side in Cambodia) as if we were fleeing for our lives. Unsurprisingly, we arrive in Siem Reap in record time, and were left at a tuk-tuk stand to go to our hotel.

My plan was to meet up with my friend from CWRU, Pat, and his fiancee, Mary, at a guest house, so I had a place to go. The tuk-tuk/rickshaw driver hates this. They always want to bring you to their buddy’s place. Wryly he asked which guest house as their were two of them very close. I said the cheaper, but I would just check at reception. We passed the ‘Popular Guest House,’ and turned into another place. I looked behind at the sign; a ploy. This wasn’t ‘Popular Guest House II,’ but another hotel. I told them to take me to the guest house, and that was final. Unhappily, he took us there, and we immediately ran into Pat and Mary.

The poverty level back up, the scam and buddy networks thriving, I am finding it hard not to compare this country to India. The stretch of road we had just traveled is infamous for scams, and I felt glad to make it out relatively unscathed. It is not all bad however, I missed the small children business selling you trinkets and pouting. I enjoy bartering with them, or tricking one of them into telling me their break-even point.. The difference here is they get upset when you buy from someone else, and they whine at you, “Why you no buy from me, I talk you first,” and every business advance is done in the most pathetically high pitched voice possible. I’ll go into more detail of the ruins, but when you arrive at one of the temples, the sound is very similar to the noon time tornado warning horn at home. A cacophony of women starting their attention getting, “helllllloooo, driiiinnnk, collllldddd drinnnkkk,” as they flap their menus in the air at you, and scoot their children off the hammock to sell you postcards.

Same, same, but different.

Lightning Fight

I’ve been hanging out with my brother’s friend from university, AJ, the past few days on Koh Lanta. Today is his first professional Muay Thai Boxing Match, and this is my account of that fateful day.

Preparation

AJ has been in the gym training twice a day for the past couple of months. I asked him what one of his last workouts involved: 2500 crunches with a few hundred pushups, and grappling with a 6′ 5” Swede. Physically, AJ was as ready as could be, but the preparation didn’t stop there. Like a Thai version of Blues Brothers, the event was advertised by handing out flyers to everyone, making posters, and having a truck drive around the island with an oversized megaphone precariously strapped on shouting out the news of the big fight; there is something refreshing about hearing about an event this way.

George Forman Grills, AJ Cooks Thai

After a casual morning, AJ and his girlfriend April convinced me to come to a Thai cooking class for the afternoon. As tourism is at a low right now, we were the only three in the class, which consisted of us choosing 5 dishes and making them. On our menu for the day, in order of preparation: Beef salad (favorite dish of a soon to be Muay Thai boxer), chicken stir-fry with hot basil leaves, Pad Thai, Massam curry paste, and Massam Curry.

The dishes were eloquently simple, delicious, and nutritious. As we were pounding the curry paste, I asked AJ if he was ready, his reply was to mash at the mortar and pestel harder, and say, “Just getting warmed up.”

Bright Beach

Filled with delicious food, I planned to watch sunset on the tranquil beach, and AJ was going to get a rub-down massage before the fight. As happens this time of year, a large thunderhead had been brewing overhead, and the lightning started to rumble in the distance. It was an odd rush to the senses of staring at a beautiful beach and hear the rolling thunder in the distance. In a freak show of particle charges, we were all suddenly jostled out of our seats as lightning struck the beach with hardly a cloud above us.

After hearing screams, and realizing something had gone terribly wrong I stood up and started to run over to the strike. A blur of what-ifs ran through my head as I flashed back through all the various kinds of Red Cross and lifeguard certifications. As I arrived at the site, there were down branches from the tree that was hit. The branches had collapsed a massage hut, and two women were being dragged from the organic rubble. I could tell they weren’t hit. Definitely in shock, but ok.

I suddenly start seeing faces from the last few days as more people come running out of curiosity or a sense of trying to help. AJ arrived behind me from his massage, and like me wanted to help, but there was not much we could do,…especially with out inadequacies in speaking Thai. Thankfully, a truck arrived to shuttle them to the hospital within 2 minutes, and the crowd had cleared. It was a sudden jolt to the senses, and I decided to head back to the hammock on my bungalow for the rest of the time.

Welcome to the Ring

AJ likes to eat Snickers right before fighting for a little extra energy, not found in the rice/noodle with vegetable and meat staple diet. As such, both he and April had bought 4 each to be ready. With way too many Snickers hiding in the refrigerator in the bungalow ready for a last second snack, we were off to the ring early to meet friends and prep. AJ paced around, April and I scoped out the best photo/film location in the front row and squatted until show time. After waiting for the opposing fighters to arrive, and an hour of anxious fidgeting, the fighting began.

If you haven’t been to a proper Muay Thai match, the fight is 5 rounds, knees and elbows are fair game, and no head gear is used. Unlike our version of English brute force fighting, Muay Thai involves carefully places kicks, learning the opponents movements, and hard knees to the kidneys and stomach when grappling in close contact. The pre-fight involves a respectful walk around the ring to each corner, a walk and kneeling circular display in the middle with flowers adorned by the owner/ manager / or other dignitary present. The headbands are removed and the fight begins. During the fight, traditional high pitched music with a solid percussion beat is played as the joust for control starts.

Today’s match involved 9 fights, starting with children, a section of 5 international fighters (with AJ as the showcase foreigner), and a last bout between two Thais. We cheered for the Lanta gym side the whole time, but the Thais seemed to secretly cheer for the Thais the whole time. The first couple of international fighters did poorly after an adrenaline rush of swinging arms and hard kicks to their core. They didn’t last the ensuing rounds, and our hopes for AJ were starting to be put into doubt.

After a large Canadian smothered his opponent into submission, the largely foreigner crowd was out of their seats and cheering. It was AJ’s turn, and we were loud and proud as he walked down to the ring with a good friend from the gym, Aakey.

The Fight of All Fights

AJ’s opponent’s name was Ramboo, pronounced Rambo. AJ stood in his corner waiting for his opponent to step-in to the ring. 5 minutes later, a rumble heard, Ramboo stepped in large and in-charge. With a grin large enough to hide a submarine, he started to walk around the ring, but unlike the previous fighters, he made a show of punching and kicking the corners as he walked, whereas most fighters, including AJ, make a quiet bow of contemplation and keep walking.

The necessary pre-fight ritual complete, there was not much standing in the way of the fight. Round one was off, and the battle began with a cautious start. AJ and Rambo tried to find the weaknesses of each other with a raucous crowd and high pitch music flooding the ears. The dual was evenly matched until almost the end of the round when AJ landed a solid punch flooring Rambo. It wasn’t a knockout, but a good boost of moral. Haggard looking, the opponents were summoned to their corners.

After a buzz of activity in the corners with men vigorously stretching and rubbing legs, splashing water on the fighter, it was back to the action. Round two started the same as round one, but this time, AJ had unleashed his attack. After a couple grapples, and random kicks, AJ took the upper hand. A couple well placed kicks and a final blow sent Ramboo to the ground again. This time for good; with a wave of the referee’s hand, the bout was over. AJ 1 Rambo 0.

Once out of the ring, we all took turns congratulating AJ, receiving oily tiger balm hugs in return from him, and taking a superfluous amount of photos. AJ was ecstatic, we were ecstatic, we were shocked by the win, especially so fast, but we were happy. After some goodbyes, and a brief deliberation on where to have some celebratory drinks, we were off.

Many thanks to AJ, April, and their many friends who helped make my time on Koh Lanta amazing.

After my gracious sponsored flight back to Bangkok with the EWB team from CWRU, I left Sanchit, Dr Rollins, and Lynn in the terminal purgatory to return to the USA, and I checked into a sparse guest house in Bangkok. I spent the next few days checking out the sights of Bangkok including the Grand Palace, the massive 120 m long reclining Buddha, and stumbling upon a Ta Karouw Tournament. Ta Karouw is a native game in which team members attempt to hit a bamboo ball into a three hooped net about 3 m overhead using their elbows, legs, knees, shoulders, and heads.

I met a few other travelers along the way including Karen from San Diego and a group of Norwegians just starting a month of travel through Thailand. Karen gave me some great advice on where to go down south, as she was leaving the next day for home. I took up her advice to travel to the beautiful and overcrowded Ko Phi Phi island. The archipelago is home to the movie “The Beach,” harvesting of swiftlet nests (made from the bird’s saliva) used in the excessively priced Chinese bird-nest soup, stunning Karst formations jutting out of the water, and a devastating Boxing Day Tsunami.

The island has recovered well in the past few years, thanks mainly to the thriving tourist money pouring into the island. I randomly ran into the group of Norwegians I had met in Bangkok, and we had a blast snorkeling, building sandcastles, tanning (and burning) on the beach, watching Muay Thai boxing, and partying early into the morning on the beach. This debauchery island is filled mostly with Scandinavian travelers, and I picked up on a few words thanks to my new friends. My favorite was the word for pre-gaming (drinking before going out) forshpiel, which also means foreplay.

Every time I opened my eyes after laying in the sun or opening the window I was again awestruck at the beauty of this place. Parts of the island are still being rebuilt after the Tsunami, and evacuation routes are now very clearly marked. I left this beautiful island to visit a friend of my brother’s on Koh Lanta who has been living here for several months training as a Muay Thai boxer while getting his PADI Dive Master certification. AJ fights on Sunday, and I’m enjoying the more relaxed and desolate beaches here while waiting to cheer him.

I flew directly from Kathmandu to Bangkok. My plan was to meet with a group of people from my school’s Engineers Without Borders chapter to help with some site assessments along the Northern Myanmar border. They had also purchased a plane ticket for me for onward travel to Chiang Mai, where we would start our work. I waited to meet up with them in the Bangkok terminal…. like most airports it is just another version of purgatory. We groggily met, talked for a while, and awaited our 7 am flight. We landed in Chiang Mai, and were greeted by members of the Chiang Mai North Rotary Club. The club is partnering with the Twinsburg Rotary Club to help finance the work at the sites we would be visiting.

Various members of the group helped arrange our transport (a spacious 12 passenger van), translating, and site schedules. We were ready to take off the next afternoon after a brief introductory meeting with the Chiang Mai Faculty of Engineering. For the next 4 days we managed to cycle through a pattern of being driven around curvy roads (making some people sick), talking with school administrators, village leaders, and helpful members of the communities, eating too much delicious food, taking hundreds of photos, writing lots of notes, and managing to have some fun along the way.

Sticky rice and coconut milk cooked in bamboo

The communities we were looking at helping are mainly hill tribe people. This sub-section of the Thai population originally emigrated here from Tibet and Myanmar, and many are more direct refugees from Myanmar. The tribespeople now have Thai citizenship, but maintain their heritage and customs. One of the tribes, the Lisu, wear brightly colored outfits all the time. Many people would assume they see this in the tourist spots, but in reality we pass fields with people working and children playing in bright neon colors which would make the 80s proud.

Unfortunately this is the burning season. By day the skies are filled with smoke blocking the spectacular mountain views, and by night lines of fires could be seen on the nearby hills. It is a sad practice to see still happening, and there is little work being done to promote more sustainable farming.

Walking through fields as they were preparing to burn them to a completed project

One of my favorite experiences was waking up very early, skipping the 4-7 am market that Lynn and Dr. Andrew (Arjan Andrew, they don’t use last names in Profesor titles) went to and driving to a monastery near the Myanmar border. When I say near, I mean the next hill over. We happily were taking photos of Burma when one of our translators told us it was actually a military base. Immediately above the monastery was a Thai military outpost. They had drilled a well for the school we were looking at, and were happy to show us around when they learned we were also trying to help them out. The commander allowed us to take as many pictures as we wanted, and said they were on good terms with the Myanmar base right now. He pointed out the volleyball net where they occasionally play friendly matches, as well as the pungee stick studded fields between trenches. The main reason for both bases was to stop illegal immigration, and the road had been closed here between the countries. We were back to the assessment and driving cycle by 830.

After several jam-packed days of traveling we were back in Chiang Mai saying goodbye to our generous hosts. Many thanks go out to the Chiang Mai North Rotary Club, especially to Suprarie, Wonpen, and Sunisa. As we were driving to the airport, Sunisa asked me why if I had a good time here. I responded, “I love it!”

“Why do so many foreigners say they love Thailand so much?”

I pondered the question posed to me for a few moments.

“It’s because you are all so happy. In America we like to moan and groan about all that is wrong. Everything you hear is negative, and especially now with the recession in full swing.”

“But we have a recession in Thailand now too, its not much better.”

“Yeah, but everyone here finds a way to still be happy. Be it making small jokes, or spending time with friends enjoying each others company. Even in the small villages we visited in need of help, people were still happy, life still resounds in the face of all the bad things.”

“Yeah, we are all pretty happy.”

While in transit to Thailand, I talked to one too many old men telling me how fantastic Thailand was, and how they were going there to meet a future wife, or have some fun in Bangkok, or travel to some lush tropical island with a “friend.” I was skeptical hearing how great Thailand was from these old men portraying a little too many nuances to me, but after traveling here, I understand. Why wouldn’t you want to travel to a beautiful country with happy people, cheap food, and gorgeous mountains and beaches?