End of the meet and start of the solo wandering.

Firstly, the photograph above is nothing to do with the text, it is just to show you one of the glorious sunsets on Boracay, they really are stunning. Don't you wish you were here?

I left you last time with us having had a great day on the paraws and on the beach and we had gone home to prepare for the last evening meet in the Astoria Hotel right on the beach, a lovely place.

We had a great meet up and said a lot of fond farewells but not before something happened that will probably have scarred several Philippino musicians for life. Allow me to explain.

A few of the VT members knew that I knocked out a few chords on a guitar and made a bit of a racket vocally, so you have probably guessed what is coming next. There was an excellent Philippino band playing. Actually, that is probably a bit of a tautology, as all Philippino musicians are excellent. I really cannot peak highly enough about the technical standard, indeed I know that many of the cabaret bands in the resorts of Thailand are Philippino.

Anyway, the inevitable happened and I was rather reluctantly propelled onstage. The first problem was musical communication. In UK we use the "key of A, B minor, G" or whatever system. I am not sure what they use here, possibly the do ray me system so beloved of Julie Andrews in the Sound of Music. Still, no problem, there rarely is with these guys. Song title and a mime of the first couple of chords and the job was done.

Second problem was that the guitar I borrowed was an electric which I virtually never play and requires a slightly different technique but I took a deep breath and launched into "Knocking on Heaven's Door", which is a great song for audience participation. I know as I once had a bunch or drunken Polish students in Nowy Sacz singing it for about 40 minutes!

There is something rather magical about playing barefoot, well it was a beach bar after all. The rythmn section were watertight, the keysman took a great solo and it was a joy to play with them. Gratefully, I walked offstage to rather over-generous applause I thought. Job done. Not a chance. I was propelled back on for an encore and, I am glad to say, the band did not look as horrified as they should have done.

I swear I had no idea what I was going to play as I never do and never use a setlist, it is better like that. I do not know why my fingers started a D / C / G riff that is one of the most famous in rock music but it appeared that the Muses or more likely St. Jude (patron Saint of lost causes) had decreed Sweet Home Alabama by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Well, it went a bit mad then. All the VTer's were up dancing, as indeed were many of the other patrons, the band really went for it and there was lots of onstage interaction (nods, solos etc.). I must admit I did make a bit of a tit of myself, headbanging with the bass player, standing on the drum riser and chopping with the keysman etc. 52 years of age is too old for acting the Sammy Hagar but it was great fun. We jammed it for a good while with a big finish (always finish on a big 7th as Red Dave Lear taught me) and I left to more unwarranted applause, although it was probably for the band. Requests for another encore were politely refused. Always quit while you're ahead.

Obviously, I don't have photos myself as I was otherwise engaged but I have seen video footage online and it is toe-curlingly embarrassing, positively cringe making. For that reason, I don't intend to tell you where it is!

I had booked another couple of days in the hostel after the meet which I spent chilling, exploring the town (there isn't much of it) and the beach. I spent evenings in the Red Pirate and even slep there one night when I couldn't be bothered walking all the way back to Station 1 to my own place. It really is rather comfortable there and with less snoring than in the dorm. Because it is a beach bar, they cannot lock it up so two of the staff sleep there at night to prevent theft. Well, there are three cushioned bench seats so Jen was more than happy for another body guarding the place. I would be awoken in the morning when the day staff arrived and given a cup of coffee. Happy times indeed. I do rather like waking up in a place where the floor is made of sand.


There are other attractions too. Jen is a great catlover and I made a new friend. This little one is called Magic and he really is. He is a lucky kitten too as he was found by an expat as an infant, obviously abandoned and brought to Jen who bottle reared him on, of all things, mixed up coffee creamer. Fresh milk is almost impossible to find here, especially on Boracay.

If I stayed here, I would head off in the morning and have a shower, change and have breakfast before heading out for the day. The next image is interesting as it shows a fairly typical backpackers breakfast. They see no oddity in serving eggs, bacon and toast on the same plate as mango. I suppose it is the same as Americans having bacon and eggs with blueberry muffins which I found odd in L.A. Bloody delicious though.


Of course Jen had seen my attempts at music in the Astoria and so she persuaded me to come and join in the regular jam sessions with two superb guitarists called Randy and Lenver. Lenver is the one you see here. He is only about 22 or 23 and is such an accomplished lead guitarist you would not believe, just nod him a solo and he is away. Seriously, the guy would not be out of place in any top level cabaret band in Europe. I happen to know what he gets paid a night, and I am not going to relate it here obviously. It is commensurate with local wages, slightly better than a barman for example, but it is still a pittance. It was humbling to play with him. As for Randy, he was more than happy to lend me his box as he could go and chat to women! Note the advanced beach bum dress code, shoes never happened and shirts were an optional extra, depending on the heat. It was warm playing there.



Here we are getting it on in grand style. There was another strange thing. In the Phils, you have the PNP, the national police, and then you have the Borangay police. Borangay really means district and these guys have limited powers, they are more like Council wardens in the UK.
Have a look at the guy playing the drum, he is a Borangay policeman, and actually on duty at this point with a shedload of rum in him. Brilliant. Jen says he cuffs people on demand, so we decided to have a bit of a laugh.



Pretty cool cop, eh? He was a really nice guy.


And here we are , two hardened criminals. We did get released shortly afterwards though.

I need to jump slightly back here, though. These photos were taken on my last night on Boracay and I had a slight problem in that I had nowhere to stay. This was not because I had been kicked out or anything but merely because Reinhard, the wonderful owner of the Frendz hostel, was fully booked that night. I was now on a day to day basis for sleeping and travelling, just the way I like it. I was jumping off for my next destination early in the morning so I asked Jen if I could crash in the bar that night. The lovely lady agreed readily so that was my bed sorted.

Now Reinhard had told me that he had a guy coming in to play in the hostel that night and asked if I would play for a few beers, to which I readily agreed. The last night ran something like this. Played about an hour set in the hostel for a totally backpacker crowd which went down really well, it was a nice guitar which is unusual here. I did all the usual troubadour stuff which I thought might not have gone with a young audience but it was great.

After that, I gathered up my wordly goods and possessions and re-negotiated the building site, semi-lit lane and then jumped a trike. Off to the Pirates again and almost straight back into the chair. I really wish I could get two gigs a night in London, it is hard enough to get two a month in the current climate.

We played until nearly three for a good crowd, then Jen and I sat and chatted till about half four and so to bed, well bar seat. Just another nutty day in paradise, going with the breeze!

I'll let you know where I went in the next post, I have been deliberately not mentioning it.

I seem to have fallen into somewhat of a rut here, although I must say it is a very pleasant rut to be in and yesterday proved to be absolutely wonderful as I shall explain shortly.

My daily routine normally runs thus. I wake early due to either the rooster previously mentioned, an early Lao Airlines flight or the depredations of my aging bladder! For a basically nocturnal creature like myself it is somewhat of a shock to the system getting up at eight and being in bed usually shortly after midnight. A quick wash and brush up, then off to Big Brother Mouse, where I am becoming something of a fixture with the friendly staff now greeting me by name. Although the "lessons" often feature a lot of the same content, the attraction of doing it does not seem to wane, the obvious delight of the Lao people is heartwarming. In the way of these things I learn as well. Yesterday I was going through an Australian childrens book about animals with a Lao man with very limited English and came upon an animal called a quoll, which looks like some sort of large rodent I think. I had never heard of such a thing, so something learned.

I leave BBM and head to the Saibaidee restaurant for my morning Lao coffee and a lunchtime beer whilst coaching Noo and Thent on their English homework for College. That usually takes until about three when I either go to the Internet cafe, take in another temple or two or make another abortive trip to the Immigration Office which never seems to be open.

Down to the river to take in the sunset and then decide which of the numerous excellent restraurants to have dinner in. I like to try as many as possible and the food is uniformly good with very few disappointments. A couple more beers and then off to an early bed. Perfect lifestyle.

Yesterday was slightly different. It appears that most of the waiting staff in town are monlighting from either the University or the Teacher Training Colege and one such, Phone, had told me that there was an Open Day affair at the College and I would be most welcome as his guest. He explained that there were visitors coming from Thailand for the event, which seemed to be a big deal for them. I believe the Lao Government are improving relations with their neighbours lately and I read in the Vientiane Times a couple of days ago that a new agreement had been signed with Cambodia, despite there still being a disputed border between them. Phone very helpfuly drew me a map and put his name and class on a bit of paper and told me he would see me there.

After my two "classes" off I wandered and duly appeared at the gate of the College. The security guy looked at me slightly oddly, until I produced my "invitation" whereupon I was allowed to proceed. Once inside, I was greeted by a most wonderful spectacle. The entire place was set up for a typical Open Day with the different departments having displays but, as always, it was the people that caught my attention. The vast majority of the students had donned ther respective tribal dress with Lao Lim, various (H)mong tribes, Akha and the apparently predominant Kmhu as well as some others I am not sure about. Each tribal group processed around the campus and then, for a panel of judges, performed a tribal dance or demonstrated a skill (spinning seemed popular) particular to their group. The visual effect was simply stunning.

I could pay a travel agent in Luang Prabang quite a bit of money to go and visit an "authentic" village along with a hundred other tourists. Forget it, they are just human zoos. I was there for over three hours and briefly saw one other white man. This was not designed to attract the tourist dollar, this was the students letting their hair down and enjoying themselves for their own benefit. And enjoying themselves they certainly were. In the way of Southeast Asian people there was much laughter, singing and general hilarity and good humour. I hope the photos reflect this in some way.

Wandering away from the main events, I came upon a hotly contested spinning top game amongst some of the (H)mong lads whereby they launch a couple of these things onto a piece of ground and then others try to knock them out of the rink with their own tops. They do this with a degree of enthusiasm and I nearly collected a wayward top on the ankle a couple of times, the sight of a frantically hopping farang seeming to cause great amusement.

After the tops, the real lunacy began. They have got a thing they described to me in English as a boat race which is difficult to describe adequately, hopefully the photos will assist. Basically, two long planks per team have bits of rubber nailed to them in the style of sandals. Two teams of about ten put their feet in these, line astern, and then shuffle madly like demented cross country skiiers in a straight race down the length of an outdoor football pitch. I am sure you can imagine the carnage that ensues if one of the team loses their footing or the rythmn of the team, it is chaos and usually results in a large pile of laughing, shouting bodies. It really is something to behold.

Eventually and regretfully I dragged myself away, back to the hotel for a small doze, then up and out to face the night. In my quest to try as many new restaurants as possible I took myself to Smile Lao, a pleasant outdoor place on the main night strip. Unfortunately, the menu here is solely the Lao barbecue, which is gorgeous but was rather more than my appetite demanded. Whilst there I started a conversation with the waiter (it was pretty quiet) in the middle of which he asked me in French if I spoke French (he had limited Englidh). I have not spoken French for 30 odd years and told him so in French. Not deterred he pressed on and I told him how I had spent the afternoon. It transpired he was another moonlighting student from the College and had been there as well. We were then joined by his friend, who spoke English but not French. I got out the camera and was showing them my photos from the day. I discovered that my French came back pretty easily, which surprised me greatly. What ensued was a proper Tower of Babel with the conversation going on in Lao, English and French, it was odd to say the least. I was put in mind of a song called Tower of Babel Time by an old schoolfriend of mine called Andy White (check him on the internet), a very good singer / songwriter.

Down to the Sports Bar for a decent 2-2 draw between Arsenal and Everton and then home to bed early. Big Brother Mouse is closed on Sunday so I have busied myself on the computer all day writing this and constructing a few tips for my Virtual Tourist site for uploading later. Have a look at the photos and try to imagine what a wonderful day it was.

Speak soon,

Fergy.

As John Lennon famously wrote, "And so this is Christmas, and what have you done?" Allow me to tell you. I have spent Christmas Day floating down the Mekong River in Lao, eating some absolutely superb food, having a coupl e of drinks and returning to my room to write this.

Let's get back to where we were. Chiang Rai, I believe. Visa time ticking and yet again I had to leave a great place and move on. Isn't it a great irony about travelling that when you do it you keep wanting to stay places? A fairly uneventful local bus trip of a couple of hours and arrived back in the border town of Chiang Kong (Chiang Khong). It has become undoubtedly a lot larger than it was last time I was here, but still remains a border town and border towns seem to have a strange sense about them. They are generally far from the capital, prey to the slightly dubious "business activities" that borders engender. It is still a pleasant little place, pretty quiet, well normally it is. Trust me to pick one of the three nights of the annual so-called food festival. On the way up the street, I had seen a pretty large stage with a fairly decent looking PA and light rig set up. I wandered along, having not even consulted my guidebook, and decided on a beer in the Green Tree Guesthouse, bar,, restaurant, art gallery and photgraphic gallery. Well, it is a wooden shack really and it was the photos that attracted me. I wandered in, ordered a beer and was served it by an English guy whose work the art and photography was. He ran it with this girlfriend who was form one of the hilltribes judging by her dress but don't ask me which one, I have not got that sorted out yet.

No point in going any further as they had rooms, so I organised one for the night. I'll tell you about it shortly. Having dumped the bag, it was explained to me that there is a three day food festival in the town at this time of year with live music. Well, no second invitation needed, I dispatched myself tout de suite back down the road. It loked like it had been set up in either a carpark or possibly a buss station with plenty of room. It was a food festival by virtue of the fact that there were many food stalls about the place and I did avail myself of a few of the delicacies on offer, but the main draw was the music. The "house band" really was very good, and there were various singers, I think local heroes by the reaction they got, and although I didn't understand a word, the music (Pop Thai) is seriously catchy. A very pleasant night where I was one of onhly a handful of Westerners which is a thing I always love.

Back to the room, both literally and in the sense of the blog. Let me describe it. The building was stilted, with the room secured by a padlock which was slightly unecessary as it took an almighty heave to open the door or indeed close it from the inside. There were cracks in the floor you could have put a bicycle wheel down. There was one bare bulb which my ciagrette lighter outshone, a fan (unecessary as it wasn't that hot so far North) with no apparent electric source to plug it into, a balcony in imminent danger of collapse with a hammock that might just have accomodated one of the Seven Dwarfs and a door that didn't lock. The mosquito net looked like it had not moved for a decade. In short, it was perfect, I absolutely loved it. I adore staying in places like this. It is what I go travelling for. Had I not had to move, I would have happily stayed here for a week.

Move, however, I had to , and after a cup of lovely coffee and a packed lunch to take away for the slow boat, I wandered down to the pier where the border lies, and my first glimpse this trip of my beloved Mekong. I think I mentioned before that it is probably my favourite river in the world. I can't explain it, there is just something about it that really gets to me. Thai immigaration is a breeze, quick althoug important stamp on the passport. If you don't get it you can have serious problems trying to get back in. A five minute journey on a little skiff and I had crossed my first border this trip and was standing in the People's Democratic Republic of Lao, a very different country although it obviously looks outwardly much the same. After a fairly frenetic but good-natured scrum at the visa office and a $35 dollar bill, I was in. I was interested to note on a poster, whilst waiting in the queue for the visa, that Kyrgystani residents only pay $30 and I was wondering exactly how many Kyrgystanis visit Lao annually.

I knew the way so I ignored the blandishments of the various tuk tuk drivers and wandered the 15 minutes or so to the slow boat pier. If any of you ever plan this trip, and I do recommend it, forget just about everything you are told. The boats do not leave at 10, they are always later, it is not a long walk to the pier, it is 15 minutes maximum, you do not need to get a ticket in advance, you buy them at the pier (up the steps on the left past the boules pitch) and you do not need to book a room in Pakbeng, there are plenty. So with the travel tips out of the way, let me tell you about the journey.

There is always a danger in returning to a place you love, that it will not live up to your memories. I did this trip about seven years ago and I have written on several travel websites that they were two of the best days of my life. That still holds. To move slowly down this majestic river with the astounding scenery and glimpses of riverside life is something everyone should do before they die. Last time I was here, I got on a working cargo boat, about 50/50 travellers and local people with the hold full of bags of cement, rice, chickens, various boxes of fruit. You name it and it was there. All the travellers climbed on the roof, produced bottles of Mekong whiskey and Beer Lao and tried to catch the sun whilst the Laotians sat inside, ate sticky rice and tried to avoid the sun. We stopped frequently at hamlets not even served by roads who relied on the boats, and I clearly remember wading knee deep up to the beach lugging various baggage ashore. It was all part of the fun.

Things have changed. We were herded onto a boat with no cargo facility at all, merely hard benches packed so closely as to render them all but useless to large foreigners. They crowded the boat to the point hat it was up to the gunwales in calm water at the pier, and it was only when several travellers remonstrated, that they agreed to put on a second boat, where about half the passengers went. Eventually, about an hour late, we took off. Absolutely no way going on the roof, I suppose they have lost one too many partying backpacker overboard so we were cramped inside. I ended up standing most of the six hour journey as it was more comfortable. Where previously we were jumping ashore to buy Lao lao (local moonshine) in water bottles now we were compelled to buy hugely overpriced drink from the bar which seems to have been installed in all the boats. Fortunately, not even expecting such luxury, I had a few beers with me.

I really do not know what the local villagers are doing now, perhaps roads have been constructed to the villages and I know there has been much road building in the country since last I was here. Apparently, the boat crews have worked out there is more money to be made from the increasing numbers of tourists than there is from their traditional way of life. Eventually, off we went and the Mekong worked it's magic on me as usual. I could stand and watch it go by all day. I got friendly with a German couple, a family from Derbyshire and a Greek guy who seemed somewhat amazed when I spoke a little of his own language with him.

Well, the river hasn't changed, as you would expect, although I did notice a lot less of the fishermen perched like monkeys on the huge limestone rocks that littler the banks. Perhaps it is not the season. Eventually, just after dusk, we reached Pakbeng. Now it seems to me that Pakbeng only exists because it is about halfway from Xuay Hai and Luang Prabang. It is a convenient staging post for the boats that provide (or at least provided) the lifeblood of the region. Last time I was there I am sure it did not have a paved road into it and was really a backwater. Now, it is a bit bigger and consists of a strip of guesthouses and an Indian restaurant I know for a fact did not used to be there. I avoided the crush of hotel touts at the pier and picked one I fancied the look of. A decent, clean room although basic. Still, it was only £3:50.

When I got into the room, I decided to lie down for a little while before heading out for a bite to eat. All of a sudden I didn't feel too great. No stomach problems, I just felt wiped out, and a bit achy so I just lay in bed from half six at night until I was awoken by my early morning call at eight next day for the boat. During the night, though, I had made a completely schoolboy error and forgotten that the power in Pakbeng goes off at aobut midnight and doesn't come on until dark the nest night, it really is that remote. A late night trip to the loo necessitated my fishing about in my suitcase looking for my Maglite torch. I really didn't fancy the concept of a Lao loo by braille.

Made the boat in good time the next day after struggling down the perilously steep track, and then the fun really started. They had decided they were only going to take one boat dowen on the second leg and no amount of cajoling them would alter that. Although the boat was marginally bigger than the one the day before, it was still stupidly crowded. I had to sit on the floor (thankfully I had my inflatable cushion) in a tiny space although I didn't have to put up with it long, as I spent the next eight and a half hours being used as human ballast. Because of the overcrowding, everytime the boat hit the slightest of turbulence it started rocking about wildly and the crew were gesticulating wildly at us to move from one side of the boat to the other.I really don't know why they put their craft at risk like this just to make a few extra kip on what must be a lucrative run for them. Ther are always plenty of tourists making the trip and I have no doubt we were paying a lot more than the local people, which isn't a problem. Speaking of local people, the overcrowding was compounded when we did make a stop or two to load them on. Whilst it added to the local flavour, and they were as friendly and the youngsters as cute as they always are, it must have put the boat another 18 inches in the water. Fortunately, we arrived in one piece about half five in the evening.

The Mekong is still my favourite river, and the scenery and sights are still breathtaking but, at the risk of sounding like a travel bore, it was a commercialised and sanitised shadow of the wonderful adventure I had had not so many years back. If anyone is contemplating visiting this region, I would recommend it, as the Mekong is something to see but prepare yourself for some discomfort Personally, I don't think I'll bother next time but what a different way to spend Christmas Day.

Having made Luang Prabang, I ran the gamut of taxi men and hotel touts and wandered to the place I had chosen but it waqs full so the lady suggested the place next door. Now, it will never win boutique hotel of the year but it is clean, has hot water and even a TV and the bed is comfy What more could you want? The fact that it is about £5 a night doesn't hurt either. A quick shower and off into the night for a bite to eat. Remember, I had only had two baguettes in two days and was in need of something filling.

Well, I didn't go far wrong there. There are two roads on either side of the hill that dominates the town and they are just coming down with resturants, bars and guesthouses not to mention souvenir shops, travel agents and massage joints (of the legitimate sort I might add). As an aside, Lao is a much different place to Thailand. Prostitution is ilegal and very frowned upon, and it is illegal for a non Lao to sleep with a Lao they are not married to. Indeed, by law, all non Lao must be in their accomodation by midnight but I don't think that is enforced. If I can upload the photo, I will let you see the notice on my hotel room door. Apparently, I am not even allowed to make blue movies in my room! On a whim I picked one of the restaurants on the strip called Sabaidee (Lao for hello) and liked the look of the prosaically named Set 1. It may have osunded prosaic but what a meal.

If you have been following this from earlier, you will remember I described a meal in Mae Hat, Koh Tao where a brazier affair surrounded by a reservoir is put over charcoal set in your table and you basically make a soup of barbecued meats, veg and glass noodles yourself. This was a similar setup, although I defy any one human being to eat the amount of food offered. Shrimp, squid, chicken, pork and beef accompanied by tomato, about three kinds of wild mushroom, the local watercress, pak choi, some sort of a flowering plant and Heaven knows what else. You then season the whole affair with tamarind sauce and chopped garlic. The idea is to fill the reservoir from the "soup" which is really stock and get cracking. It was delicious and a suitable repast for the Christmas meal. I was on the point of asking the waiter to send my compliments to the chef, then I remembered it was me and it might have seemed conceited. The service was attentive and very friendly so, as it was Christmas, I had a couple of cocktails although I rarely drink spirits. The lychee martini was particularly good.

PDR Lao really is such a different place from Thailand and in Luang Prabang, a big tourist destination, there is generally a 10 o'clock curfew on the bars. Whether in celebration of Xmas or whether it was because it was Friday night but some of the bars stayed open late and I crossed the road to the Lao Lao Garden which was, you've guessed it, totally surreal. This is a word you are going to keep haring from me as it is the only one that aptly describes some of the sights. This place musrt be garish enough ordinarily given the number of lights that adorn the two bars and the staircase to the eponymous garden but in this season it was outlandish. A huge fuly trimed Christmas tree had been erected, along with all sorts of seasonal lights and decorations and all the staff were wearing Santa hats and red scarves. Imagine Santa's Grotto on acid and you will be close.

I played a couple of games with a long haired Italian who took every opportunity at gamesmanship and downright cheating, so I beat him twice and then told him he was "cattivo" which seemed to surprise him. Look it up if you like but it is not terribly complimentary. Deciding enough was enough, I took myself off to my room where I wrote some of the above.

Today, a quick visit to a couple of wats of which there are literally dozens. At one, I was engaged in conversation with a 16 year old monk who explained he would like to practice his English. We had a great chat andhe explained much about Buddhism to me that I did not know. A very pleasant time followed by a very unpleasant one.

I had seen signs for UXO Lao Visitor Centre which I took to be unexploded ordnance, i.e. bombs, and I was correct. I followed the signs and came on the place. Three Lao men were sitting eating soup and playing cards and, although it was obvioualy not open, they invited me in. Friendly as always. What is inside is horrifyng in the true sense of the word. There are photos of the operations they carry out defusing bombs and there are also some fairly graphic and disturbing photos of the effects. Well, bomb injuries are never pleasant to look at. I believe I am right in saying that Lao is the most bombed country in the world and as a result has the greatest per capita incidence of amputees in the world. I've seen them. The figures on their Ops board are equally horrifying. The sheer scale of the problem beggars belief. In one school playground they defused no less than 350 bomblets. Can you imagine children playing amongst so much explosive, it is appalling. There are Tshirts for sale although the man did not have the key so I will definitely return on Monday to buy one, that is a T-shirt I have to get.

I will conclude this episode in the LaoLao Garden bar I mentioned before having just watched the last few minutes of what appeared a fairly boring 0-0 draw between Birmingham and Chelsea. Tomorrow is not yet decided, such is the joy of my travels. I may score a motorbike and explore the local villages and the waterfall or I may have another day of "wat-bashing" in Luang Prabang. Most likely, I will give myself off the day I have promised myself and do a lot of stuff for Virtual Tourist, the website I write tips for. For those of you that do not know it, search the internet for Virtual Tourist and then search for memebers, my username is planxty. You can see a lot about my previous travels there, and after five weeks I really should get some more stuff posted. I know it will take all day to do even half the stuff I have amassed.

Yet again I am having trouble sorting out my photos on this damned computer, The supposedly user friendly Picasa system is certainly not friendly to a berk like me. Hopefully, you will get a few images, if not, bear with me.

I hope to post again soon if a giant Mekong catfish (look it up on Google) doesn't get me!

Just a quickie

After having raved on about the glories of the totally surreal Wat Rung Khon yesterday and promised my faithful reader some photos, I later remembered that I had totally forgotten to attach any, so here are a few. Aparently the bridge leading to the Wat represents the path of suffering we must all travel towards reaching Nirvana, hence the rather ghoulish hands and skulls etc. raised as if in supplication. I cannot stress how truly strange it was. One of the pictures shows the painstaking work involved in the construction of the place. The basic shape is constructed out of some sort of resin and then all the tiny mirror pieces are cut by hand and affixed. The projected completion date for the entire project is 2070, and having seen the way it is done, I can well believe it. It is truly a monumental udertaking in all senses of the word.

I have also included a photo of me "doing my thing" in the Teepee hippy bar. Actually, that is not strictly speaking correct, I was doing it outside on the street for the benefit of several punters and the passing populace. It is indicative of the vibe here that sitting in a busy publis street knocking out old rock standards whilst the world goes about it's business does not seem in the slightest bit odd. I wouldn't dream of doing it in Europe.

I have had some great jams here and ended up singing with the house band in the Cat Bar who I mentioned in an earlier post. They really are rather good. My rendition of Santana's Black Magic Woman / Oye Como Va was particularly well received. That is unusual as I do not know the lyrics of Oye Como Va and was just phonetically inventing some Spanish that I vaguely recollect from the record but it seemed to work. Before any musical pedants start on me, yes I know Black Magic Woman is a Peter Green song but you get the picture. I do seem to get "adopted" by house bands wherever I go and the photo of me with the electric was taken in Lampang a few days ago. I think I may write a book called "Around the world in 80 jams). The standard of musicianship here is high and they seem to favour Western rock so it is easy to fit in.

I have also included the obligatory sunset shot, partially to indicate the huge natural beauty of this region but really to annoy the life out of you poor sods freezing your bits off in Europe and the USA. This retirement really is a chore, don't you think?

I apologise that the pictures are out of order with the writing but people who know me wil appreciate that I am a computer dulard and I have not worked out how to re-order them yet. The very fact I can actually manage to post a blog is a source of constant wonderment to me. On that point, if anyone is actually reading this, please feel free to drop me a line, it would be nice to know what you think. I believe the form is that you register as a follower (it is free) and you can do it or it may be possible to post even if you are not a member.

I am currently still in Chiang Rai although I will be getting a bus this afternoon to Chiang Kong which lies right on the border with Lao. The border here is the Mekong River, possibly my favourite river in the world, so I am looking forward to that. Hopefully I will cross in a day or two, my visa expires on Xmas day.

I will try to keep in touch as best I can