Long Overdue - December 13, 2010

Inspired once again by the boredom of these tracks, I find myself at once remorseful that it has been so long since I last wrote--so much having happened--and eager to jot out my recent journeys.  While Sophia takes time every day to write in her journal, I am not so persistent nor prodigious.  I have a good memory, but memories, even a few days stale aren’t always the best fruit for reflection.  And while I try to reflect here, I am quickly realizing that it may not have been boredom that encouraged me to write, but the constant jarring of my grey matter, which swashes back and forth as the front of my train-car, where I currently sit is tugged from side to side in less of a sprint to Bangkok, but more of a waddle.  Right in front of me:
WARNING
PLEASE BE CAREFUL WALKING ACROSS
THE BOIGE JOINT WHILE THE TRAIN
IS ON OPERATION
Despite this type/grammatical error, Thailand has by far exhibited the best about use of proper English.  Good syntax, correct diction, so un-SEA-like.  Yet another sign that my last few days here are just that, at least for the foreseeable future.  And just now I’m realizing that my constant glee this past week may not be completely attributable to the experience itself, or the unbelievable scenery we’ve made ourselves privy to thanks to a super-powered rental motorbike.  Instead, maybe it’a all been tainted by the fact that I will be rejoining my family and friends in my hometown.  Seattle, Washington where I’m sure it’s currently raining and just above a freezing 32°F (not 0°C).  But for some reason, I look forward to that, and have for about a month now.  Properly raised in Seattle means you’re acclimated to any weather conditions, just so long as they aren’t seriously extreme.  In fact, you welcome the storms, knowing that it means for something more exciting, or in some cases, maybe an encouragement to take a few hours buried in a book, wrapped up in a blanket by the fire.  555.  I suppose that’s contemporarily inaccurate.  Rather: take a few hours covered up by your zebra snuggie, iPad in hand, hoping for a whiteout all Sunday long on FOX and ABC.
And while I fantasize about all of this, my heart is not only warmed by all that I love, but by this constantly evolving painting outside my window.  The sun fallen to the horizon, a bright orange-red illuminates the once-foreboding puffs that tower off the ground like mountains, billowing up and out, as if fresh from Absalom’s mouth.  Again, the scene is somewhat indescribable.  But this all unfolds above fields of rice peppered with palm trees, some flooded and replenished, mirroring the god’s Monet above.  The buzz-by creates a strobe of yellows, oranges, reds, magentas, purples and deep blues.  I took a few shots as we cruised through, right as the sun kissed the horizon, but even standing still I’m sure I could not have captured all I saw.  That is the crux of this art of light and lines, you only get a portion, and often, well, always, being there is just plain-out better.
So, as I prepare to depart in two days’ time, I must prepare to leave this land of overwhelming and moving cloudscapes and sunsets.  This is not a constant promise of the Pacific Northwest. Though other things, like Christmas prime-rib, mashed garlic potatoes, beef jus, roasted vegetables and Cabernet, are.  Other things like snow in the mountains and long blower turns under bluebird skies soon will be.  Other things like the constant push-in-your back to work hard, to perform, to reach for the sky, and not to take no as an answer, these things are imminent.  So while I enjoy my surroundings these last few days, I amp up for some of these things, and tune down some of the lackluster aspects of my life on the road, abroad.  I constantly remind myself that little good comes from worrying and only through preparation can you find that inner calm you strive for, often making your own luck.
Admittedly, it’s hard to say something like that when I hale from the most privileged nation amidst a cluster of second-world nations, and a vast majority of people living below my means; travel out of the question.  If there’s one thing I can absolutely say, is that everyone wants to be happy, but we certainly find happiness in different ways.  Nevertheless, apart from my differences with everyone I’ve met, everyone I’ve come into contact with, happiness is contagious, and it hasn’t come from any of the modern marvels of our western world.  I see more happy people here (in the cities and the countryside) than I could expect on any given day at home.  Well, maybe if the sun is shining bright in The Bay, the numbers are more equivalent.  This is the point exactly: often we find ways to wallow in what we don’t have, what we think will make us happier.  We don’t need the sun every given day, while even that is less than asking for anything material.  All we really need is a smile from someone in the room, a stranger or your best friend.  Happiness is easy to find, if you know how to look for it.  And I don’t profess to being the best at this, but I know it’s worth striving for amidst all I do every day to figure out what I want my future to look like, and how and when I want to get [to] there.
So, before I tell you what I’ve been doing the past two weeks, I want to say thank you for smiling, thank you for being easy-going, and thank you for not compromising a light heart with whatever onus you bear by choice or by birth or bad fortune.  I know that I’ve spent plenty of my life being “nasty” either by design or because I was mentally or emotionally preoccupied.  But this trip has made this fact even more apparent than my parents have attempted to for the last, oh, 22 years.  They are shining examples of this, so really, thank you to them.  Maybe this is all wrong, but it really seems all right, and as Gary would say, “all good,” credit to Fuldogg.
That’s all I’ve got for now.  More on my adventures due soon.

Flickr Thailand Set!

On the Train to Hue - November 30th

It’s been a travel-filled two and a half weeks until today, today included.  It’s 10:00 Tuesday morning, the 30th of November and I’m on the night train to Hue from Ha Noi.  We left last night at 7:30, and with a promised arrival time 7:00 this morning, this train has done nothing but rested and reassured us that in fact, when traveling anywhere in SEA, always multiply the travel time by 1.25.  Seriously.
With Sophia still awaiting word on a new passport at the US embassy in Ha Noi, and my visa expiring tomorrow, we’re both wondering when (if ever) and how we are going to make our way to Pakse, Laos, where we have a flight December 7th, back to Vientiane, to pack up our stuff, quickly recuperate, and head west to Chiang Mai and the south to Bangkok on what is becoming a whirlwind tour of UNESCOs favorite places in SEA in about 4 weeks.  I doubt Bangkok makes the list, but that might be a breath of fresh air.  I mean this purely metaphorically.
In case I’ve lost any of you, UNESCO has hundreds of designated World Cultural Heritage Sites.  In the last two weeks we’ve visited 3 as major destinations, and we may add a 4th to the list in Hoi An.  And no, Hoi An is not just a wordscramble of Ha Noi, it is the purportedly the site of the oldest civilization in SEA, dating back to right around Jesus’ lifetime.  If we all did come from Asia 200,000 years ago, we migrated very slowly. Which brings me back to wondering about our migration out of Vietnam…
Week before last I spent in Viet Duc Hospital, in the middle of the Old Quarter in Ha Noi.  I don’t have much in terms of statistics on this place, but it is a major emergency/trauma center for Ha Noi, as well as a teaching hospital, full of residents working day and night in any capacity they are needed.  Seniority was apparent, as pointed out to us by Giang, one of our RY4 (final year) friends, who basically strutted around and told people to do things wherever he went.  At first glance, and after spending four days with him, and his crony Hai, I was convinced that they were about my age, and almost full-fledged orthopedic/trauma surgeons.  But when we finally got to small talk, they swore they were 27 and 26, respectively.
In the OR, both seemed perfectly competent in their skills, assisting both Dr. Scranton and Dr. Shields (the two American orthopedists I was following) in a number of surgeries from total hips, knees to ACL reconstructions and posterior tibial tendon transfers for drop-foot.  After the final day of surgery and a celebratory dinner for a week of some intense surgery, our new friends took us out for a tour around Ha Noi at night on their motorbikes.  We stopped on the way back for desert.  They ordered crème caramel, and they got Sophia and I these coconut deserts which I’m not quite sure how to explain.  The top was opened, then about an inch thick layer of sweet milk in a gelatinous form, underneath was frozen coconut milk.  If I had to guess, the coconuts were opened up, some sort of emulsifier was added, then the layers (fat and water) separated and the coconut was frozen.  Anyway, yum.
Sophia and I spent another day in town, bought an open tour to Ha Long Bay and took off Friday morning.  We spent $50 each on the tour, which was 2 days, 1 night.  After reading a number of reviews, we were a little scared off of the cheaper cruises, which you might be able to get for as little as $20 for 2 days and 1 night.  We went with what seemed the cheapest and most dependable/reputable option.  So, we bussed out to Ha Long City and immediately boarded our boat, and sat down to lunch while we cruised out into the Bay.  The accommodations seemed nice, nicer than what we have come to expect at least, and the food was good.  After lunch we took a small boat to a cave tour… if I had to do this again, I might not.  Some of the attractions in Ha Long Bay really seem more like Disneyland than anything else.  Also, with so much tourist attention, there are over 1,000 boats in the Bay on any given day, full of tourists from France, Spain, China, and the US (mainly).  So, at some times, the experience really didn’t seem like much more than Disneyland.  With that said, the views are gorgeous, and despite our constant cloud-cover, we were still able to appreciate and take in our surroundings, in the company of no one within 5 years my age.  Our tour was an out-and-back sort of thing, with a sleepover on the boat in your private cabin.  However, we were determined to extend our stay, so we took the boat on the morning of Day 2 to Cat Ba Island with a few of the travelers doing the 3 day, 2 night tour.
We rented bikes after a short bus trip into the island, which my “borrowed” Vietnam Lonely Planet describes as “straight out of Jurassic Park.” We rode slowly for about 20 minutes and parked our bikes, then paid a tour guide 10,000 Dong ($0.50) to take us up into the Hospital Cave, which was built by the Chinese (for the Vietnamese) during the war.  It was really cool, with cement-walled rooms built into the cave and a large space for the commoners.  Reportedly, there was, aside from a fully functional hospital, a cinema and accommodations for many politicos.  It was 4 stories, with the highest floors for the most important people, an escape out the top of the mountain, out the side, and an alternate escape route down on the first floor which was accessible by jumping into a chute and falling 3 stories to a water landing.  Not sure how much of all this was true, but I will believe it for the sake of awesomeness.
We biked into the small town near the cave, then back to the bus and through Cat Ba Island to Cat Ba City.  The main road is four lanes, divided by a nice grassy and trimmed-hedge mall.  On one side, the immense bottle-necked harbor (there are some pictures on my Flickr, my favorite being “Emerge,” please check it out) and opposite, quintessential 8 story Vietnamese buildings (each no more than 10 meters wide) backed up against the rock wall that towers over the harbor.  If you go into any of these buildings, every single one of which is a hotel, you will find rock as the back wall.
Our minibus continued through town to Cat Co 1 (a beach) where there is this monstrous resort hotel with sweet-looking twin water slides, two swimming pools, and a big beach which is frequented by hotel patrons and people from town come to enjoy a day in the white sand.  Much of the rest of the island is rocky waterfront.  We had read about this “overdeveloped” beach, and had our minds set on making it around the 1 km-long catwalk anchored into the cliffs that separate Cat Co 1 from Cat Co 2.
We sighted the path, and waved goodbye to our friends staying at the resort with the tour, and told Tee (our guide) we’d let him know when we wanted a pick up to continue the rest of the tour, the Day 2 that we had opted out of, which was really just lunch and a ride home.  We walked 70m vertical down crumbling rock stairs to the beach, strapped with our bags, cameras swinging side to side to find the a gate locking away our path to relaxation and a day on the beach, away from tourists.
Frustrated, we turned around and walked back up those rock stairs and then I hiked over a hill, carved between rocks, and still under construction, Sophia followed.  The road went three ways; we took the route that looked like it might lead to a beach.  Alas, we had found the bungalows we had read about.  We were ready to share a bed for a beach bungalow, even despite the “poor” weather.  Really all we wished for on top of what we had found was some real sun, unshrouded, constant, and hot.  Something that would make the water in our cove beach change from a little bit chilly to refreshing, air-dry imminent.  After having lunch, we rejoined to group for one last adventure to Monkey Island.  Now, if you want to go to monkey island, you ought to go soon, because there are allegedly only 20 monkeys left on the island, 15 down by the beach, feeding off of tourist refuse and flesh alike, (literally-we saw some people teasing monkeys get attacked) and then 5 somewhere in the hills, slowly dying off, as many animals are all around Ha Long Bay from overuse, this tourist game is hardly sustainable as it is done here.  UNESCO has certainly failed if they think they are working to preserve these beautiful dragon-crafted limestone karst towers.  So the legend goes, families of dragons swooped along the coast, to protect the Vietnamese from Chinese attackers, dropping jade in the bay which formed the rocks and created a barrier from the attackers.
Despite the underwhelming presence of monkeys, the small beach on the island was pristine, and we enjoyed sunset from here, and climbed up the hill to see the cove on the other side of the island.  Check out some of the sunset pictures: (Breaking against the Jetty, Sunset, Walking under the Sun).  Also, the journey there involves a short cruise through a huge Cat Ba floating fishing village, which is fascinating and unencumbered by the usual Disneyesque hordes.  Basically, go to Cat Ba and stay in a Bungalow.
Day 2 of the Bungalow was a day of rest and relaxation under the sun.  There was no sun, but we did a good job of pretending.  It also marked the beginning of our vow of sobriety for the rest of the trip!  Nonetheless, we did a good job making fun of the people who came from town and “cluttered” our beach (no more than 4 or 6 people at a time).  There were two couples though, and every one of them, aside from one guy was wearing a swimsuit a number of sizes too small, which provided some entertainment.  I feasted on fresh grilled squid with soy sauce and pepper (soooo good) and Sophia got fried ramen noodles (soooo exciting!) and we split fried sweet potato [fries], which had an interesting batter, but were delicious.  It was a fantastic day, and culminated with a nice long walk back to our beach from a less delightful meal.
In the morning, we met up with one of our tour guides who had had the day off; we boarded a minibus and headed back to a new boat for our trip back to Ha Noi.  We made it back in plenty of time to buy train tickets for the 7:30 train, have my passport nearly confiscated by a shop trying to sell me a visa extension, and get some dog spring rolls to go.  Don’t tell Max.
The night on the train was four-part.  The first was a quick game of gin to 500.  That lasted about 3 hours and 50 minutes.  Next, we sat, still waiting for our four berth cabin to fill up and Sophia learned that Minesweeper is not actually a game of sheer luck.  Eventually, she got bored and I played Space Cadet until I was tired, so I huddled into the blanket on the top bunk, under blasting cold air, the other bottom bunk devoid of life.  Sleep was part three.  Then we woke up to find ourselves still alone in our spacious cabin, and I began to write.
Now in Hue, quiet, relaxing, some cool UNESCO ruins which are being restored, recuperated and re-adorned in bigger-than-life fashion.  It’ll be interesting to see how the Forbidden City is transformed over the next ten years into a fully restored, shiny gold walkthrough replica of the original.  One thing they do seem to be getting right at least is beautiful landscaping, which seems a lot less corny than all of the faux-gold leafing on everything.  Don’t let any of that discourage you, what remains of the original is fascinating and beautiful and worth the 55,000 Dong ($2.75) entrance fee.
But I almost forgot the most important part of the day!  Lunch was hand-rolled at the table, fresh shrimp spring rolls for 30,000 Dong (you do the math this time) which was just what the doctor ordered… for every meal for the rest of life.  And served with Vietnamese peanut sauce.  Very good.  Lunch was bracketed by cups of Trung Nguyen Coffee (good, strong shit).
I’ll have some Hue pictures up eventually, but please, do check out all the Ha Long Bay pictures and others from Laos, the week before.
Thanks for reading!

The Conference - November 8-12th, 2010

Monday started “early,” well, I guess no earlier than surgery at the hospital all week, but earlier than usual for Vientiane.  Waking up 6:30, Sophia were on our bikes by 7:30 and to the conference by ten to 8.
Day 1 was the most hectic.  I was working the victims’ assistance workshop, and CMC volunteers were there mainly as logistical support.  CMC is one of the biggest organizations committed to ending the development, manufacture, and stockpiling of clusterbombs, and thereby one of the leading organizations at the conference, although it was officially designated as a UNDP event.
During my week away, I had been emailed by Manuele, who told me to ask for him when I showed up.  He wasn’t there at 8.  He was stuck in infamous Vientiane traffic.  Whenever there is an event in town, police swarm the streets to serve as impromptu traffic lights, where they are lacking.  (Through the middle of town, there are only about 7 or 8 traffic lights.)  Thing is, they also decide to work at the traffic lights, and I’m convinced that all they do is make traffic slower, because the traffic lights in town work perfectly fine.  However, once in a while, they’ll clear the road for an ambassador convoy, which is fun to watch.
Anyway, before Manuele showed up, I was asked if I was the IT guy, I wasn’t, but I switched Firoz’s laptop’s VGA connection in the projector from “Output” to “Input 1.”  Hard work.  Next, I went outside and Sophia gave me my nametag… her daylong task.  Manuele showed up and I was put to work with a woman from HI (Handicap International), printing, making copies, and highlighting in freshly printed packets.  However, no one could connect their computer to the printer.  Despite it being delivered the day before, no one had installed the printer on their computers (about 7 people).  To complicate the issue, the printer was so new that its plug-and-play driver wasn’t in the windows list, so it couldn’t be easily installed in anyone’s computer.  After about 40 minutes of struggle with that, we found the printer box and inside, of course, the driver disk.  And printing was a go.
Amidst all of this excitement, Sophia was sitting calmly at her desk, infrequently digging through the piles of perfectly alphabetically arranged nametag badges to hand to conference participants, enjoying free coffee, biscotti, and the friendly company of a number of the Lao volunteers around our age(s).
As the day wrapped up, we were reminded of the art exhibition and book signing that evening at the Lao Cultural Hall, where we would partake in enjoying paintings with complimentary box wine.  I did come to Laos for the Franzia, so after a month and a half plus, I am finally satiated.  We also spent some time that evening talking to a young American woman who was soon to become our new best friend (555).
Day 2 started off even more excitingly.  This time, we showed up at 11 am and were told we had to rearrange a room that was set up with tables in a U by making a narrower U by removing a table in the bottom section and adding two discontinuous tables at the head for a panel.  This may sound simple, and is in theory; however, the execution is much more complicated, because all of the tables are already decorated with drinking glasses with stems, water bottles, pads of paper and pens, and flower arrangements.  Then, all of the tables were connected by felt covers and a silky, folded drapery which ran the length of each table, continuously inside and outside of the entire U, and about every 10 inches pinned the drape into the felt table cover with a glamorous one-inch fold.  I don’t know much about this, or flower arrangement, but I did know that two people was not enough to accomplish this task of removing one table and bringing 8 tables toward the center at the same time.  Check that, they wanted both sides brought in, which means we would have to remove one table and then move every other one closer to the center.  I was much more positive about this endeavor at the outset than retrospectively, mostly because I didn’t really understand every little thing that needed to be done, undone, and redone.  We begged for hotel staff to come and assist us with the rearrangement, but they were elusive, as we found they always are.  After about 30 minutes of walking back and forth, inching table after table toward the center of the room, without ruining the décor, hotel staff finally showed up in time to redo some of our undoings which permitted the rearrangement, and by 12:00 we had a brand new room, which, as it filled up over the next hour became overcrowded despite our work at creating more room.  Snake-Five!
Sophia returned to the ticketbooth operation she’s worked at yesterday and I hopped on my still-functioning bicycle to get some copies of a booklet made in town.
I know this is completely uninteresting, but that’s essentially the gist of our work during the week at the conference.  Now a little about our time outside of the conference this week:
So on Wednesday, we stayed in downtown after work, took pictures of the new statue on the Mekong, and then went and did bike tricks on the promenade, above the river, and got plenty of pictures of that.  Basically, we discovered that day how awesome we are 1) at life, 2) at bike tricks and 3) how awesome bikes are… this is the sad part.
We met up with our new American friend, and went bowling.  We hopped into the back of a tuk tuk with a bunch of Australians.  Correction, our bikes hopped into the back of a tuk tuk and Sophia and I stood on the back, holding onto the roof and snapped a few myspace pics.  It was a nice shot of fresh air straight to the dome.  Extremely dangerous and refreshing.  On the way home from bowling, she told me that she couldn’t ride a bike, at 19 years, I didn’t believe this was a real thing, but I guess I’ve got friends who still don’t know how to swim… oh well.  So, I prompted her and it came out that she could in fact ride a bike; only she could only ride straight.  Being from San Francisco, she was definitely lying, so, I eventually convinced her to prove her inadequacies.  Little did I know, this would be the end of many things, both good and bad.
She rode about ten meters before a sudden turn left and BAM, she was on the ground, and the bike on top of her.  In my slightly inebriated state, this was one of the funniest things I thought I’d ever seen.  In retrospect, it is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.  She was up quickly, and physically uninjured, but I can’t imagine her heart didn’t ache.  BURN.  I picked up the bike and hopped on, but despite my peddling the bike wouldn’t move.  I hopped off and checked it out.  It took little examination before it was abundantly apparent that my back tire was no more.
Now, usually when a bike tire goes flat, it just takes a little pump-up.  If that doesn’t work, you patch up the tube, refit it to the wheel and pump it up.  Good to go.  If that doesn’t work, you buy a new tube.  What I saw that night I didn’t know was within the realm of possibility.  The tire was literally shred to pieces, with tube avulsing here and there, sticking into the brake pads, so the wheel couldn’t turn.  This was the epitome of a CLUSTERFUCK.  Excuse my French.  Go back to Paris.  Anyway, my lovely, over-endeared bike was essentially no more, with a total of about 7 days left in Vientiane, I was not going to repair it.  Anyway, without an apology our “friend” blamed the accident on my bike.  I put the triangle over my shoulders and walked her back to her hotel.  I found a tuk-tuk and headed home.  That was the end of my bicycle, and the end of a very short-lived friendship.  New rule: No American friends in SEA.
The rest of the week went well, and Friday night concluded with a volunteer party, with free food and drink, me giving my email to one of our volunteer friends and us drinking more beer than we expected due to excessive cheersing, a strongsuit of the Lao, and as I had learned the week before, also the Vietnamese (who cheers with vodka shots, not beer).  Here you say sok di which I think translates indirectly to “good luck.” I also took about eighty pictures with different groups of new friends, a good portion of which were couples shots with women.  I felt loved.
I also had a nice conversation with Mr. Benjamin McCabe, CMC’s intern, who happens to be the same age as me, and filling his post-graduate time with more regularly productive work.  He also happens to be Sophia’s new life love.  Hope you’re well, Ben.
Saturday we woke up early to catch our 11.5 hour bus to Luang Prabang City, for the first week-long trip.
Links for Cluster Munitions:

http://www.stopclustermunitions.org/
http://www.flickr.com/people/clustermunitioncoalition/

http://www.clusterconvention.org/index.php

http://www.clusterconvention.org/1msp/  THIS ONE'S ABOUT THE CONFERENCE!!!

Heading Home (to Vientiane) - November 7, 2010

I sit in the Ha Noi airport as I begin this entry.  It is otherwise completely unremarkable, just another mélange of overpriced duty free shops littering an international airway terminal.  As this week has rounded out, I’m quite excited to return to Vientiane, where things don’t cost so much, and the taxi into the hills doesn’t charge complete fare for both directions of travel.  It’s all part of a learning experience I suppose, and now knowing what I do, I will not take the “flying coffin” so-named by the nationals, or a taxi, but a coach when I rumble up north through the mountains.  I do fully intend to return there, an absolutely breathtaking and serene part of the world, at least when your bus isn’t playing chicken with the one opposite, and motorbikes going either direction are scattered about the road like traffic cones, completely at the mercy of the bus-drivers, who happen to be merciless.  Oh well.  I’m alive.
If there’s anything else I’ve learned over my first week here, in northern Vietnam, it’s that surgery is like sex to doctors here.  Maybe it is at home too.  But here, after a trip to the OR, they retire to their report-writing while working their way through packs of nationally-grown cancer sticks.  They offer them to everyone, “You want to try Vietnamese cigarette?” and as both Mark and Rob shook their heads and snickered, the doctors, smoke pouring from all three facial orifices, seem confused.
My four days in Son La concluded after seeing some 12 surgeries in two days of operations.  Aside from the number of corrective foot and ankle operations, I was privileged to be invited into the OR across from ours, where two general surgeons were talking to a patient receiving a spinal block somewhere in his thoracic vertebrae.  As the second exited to scrub, he explained to me that they were about to remove a bladder stone and a tumor the man had growing from his prostate.  As they scrubbed, the patient was sterilized with copious iodine, this was typical, in my experience at the Son La hospital.  I secretly prayed to myself that none of these patients had iodine allergies.  I don’t think Betadine even exists up there (a town of only 100,000 or so), and I seriously doubt that iodine allergy is part of the patient history.  Oh well, I didn’t see any harm done (I assume this part of the philosophy of western medicine wasn’t lost as it moved east).
I leaned over the table, camera in my hands or behind my back, snapping shots or squinting to see through the maze of two pairs of hands and retractors in this man’s abdomen.  Everything seemed to glide along the effacing muscular walls along the incision as not to displace something inadvertently.  (Though towards the end of the procedure, the spleen avulsed from under the retractor and both doctors worked to keep it in place as they put their first set of sutures into the abdominal muscles.)  The most interesting thing to see was the separation between the connective skeletal and sub-skeletal layers and the organs which lay underneath.  The bladder was opened up with ease, and the stone removed.  If you put the tip of your forefinger and your thumb together, you’ve got about the size of the stone, ovular and perfectly round.  A coal black surface covered by what looked like microvasculature, dark red in color and hardly apparent against its black background.  If you found this thing on the beach, you’d think, eh, pretty cool.  But seeing this thing come out of a man’s bladder about 400ccs in volume, you wonder how it was living with that inside of him.
The prostate came out next.  They worked their hand into the pelvic cavity, slowly cauterizing anything that looked like it might bleed and wasn’t essential.  After some cautery and scalpelry, out it came, even bigger than the stone.  The doc said it was the tumor, but I’m convinced at least some portion of the prostate came out with this thing.  You know when you see all those ads on TV for enlarged prostate?  Well this thing was much larger than you would ever think an enlarged prostate could be.  Both specimens were set on the sterile table at the foot of the bed, the tumor (prostate) headed to the lab afterward.  It wasn’t overwhelming, but this procedure was clearly bloodier and much gorier than any of the orthopedic procedures I’ve seen.  I contribute this partly to the use of a tourniquet, but mostly to the physical approach and the peri-operative injuries the surgery necessitated.
The second surgery I watched with the Vietnamese doctors was a kidney stone removal.  Apparently, this man had two kidney stones, one in each kidney, the one on the right had advanced into the ureter, and it needed to be removed.  The other, I guess, was not so important.  They opened from the front, through the right side of the abdomen, and soon were looking at the right ureter, about 4mm in diameter.  This was easily opened, the stone--the shape and size of a pill removed--and then the operation was closed up, with a drainage catheter emanating from his side, just the same as in the previous procedure.  This part was interesting to see, they don’t have premade drainage tubes, so they take the tube they have, bend it every inch of so and snip off the corner to make a hole.  With a pair of clamps, they pushed through (from the interior) of the abdomen until they broke into the subcutaneous layer, the other surgeon opened with a scalpel where the clamps were, and the tube was passed through, then sutured and tied to the skin.
The doctors packed up around 1:30, after surgery concluded on Thursday, did some rounds Friday morning, and then we hopped on the bus and headed back to Hanoi, to celebrate with a famous Vietnamese dish, hot and sour fish.  Cha Ca.  This stuff is unbelievably good.  That concluded my first stint with orthopedists in Vietnam.  Sunday I took my flight home to Vientiane to find Sophia worked to the bone by her CMC (Cluster Munitions Coalition) boss, and whining about it of course.

Surgery, Day 2 - November 3

When I pulled in yesterday, I had just missed the end of the first day of surgery.  Monday was all clinic and prioritization.  Here care may be less urgency-oriented and more “what is fixable” meaning any number of things.  Not everything is possible in the OR here.  Instrumentation is whatever the docs brought from home and that prevents a lot from being done.  This may come as a big shock to all three people who read my blog, but there are no reps here with a big shiny room full of blinged-out metal knees, hips, etc.  There aren’t plates and screws to fix anything internally.  (Though I did watch a Vietnamese doc ream out the proximal portion of a femur, insert a half-meter rod back up through the head from the fracture site, and then hammer it back down through the distal portion to set it.) There are pins and things, but no power-tools.  Also, prognosis is dependent on follow-up visits and complication likelihood (among hundreds of other things), which is prohibitory to many more procedures.
Back up to the surgery ward and through the first set of double doors. The first six rooms, three on either side of the long hallway hous any number of different logistical things.  Water tanks, autoclaves, closets of three-sizes-too-small scrubs (pants falling to hardly past my knee), extra cots and laundry.  For the most part these rooms seem unused. And through another set of double doors (2nd set, just like at home minus automation) two rooms with filled cots, a seemingly untended ICU and immediate post-op outpost.  The two rooms beyond that are large ORs, deplete of curtains, replete with big French windows and operating tables.  Hardly bigger (if at all) than an OR in The States, surgeries are done side-by side, but with plenty of room still to move around and not knock your partner behind you’s scalpel through his patients nerve bundle from a knocked elbow.  The large doors entering each room were left open, laminar flow an unnecessary (?) commodity.
Want to know another unnecessary commodity?  Spinal blocks following general anesthesia.  I watched the anesthesiologist bore a needle into all our patient’s backs until the tip almost dripped out CSF.  Then in goes the block.  No tears. And only a few patients even winced.  Stoicism, now that’s something that we might not think necessary in this setting.  But here it is their culture and it is impressive to watch this shine through.
Many of the patients have neglected club-foot. Clubfoot they’ve lived with for five, thirty years, even more.  If you don’t know what that means, it’s hard to really imagine.  I’ll try to walk you through it.  First, pretend walking like a ballerina, right of top of your toes.  Now, (and I know most of you can’t even get your foot that straight), take the outside of your foot with the opposite hand and pull it under the ankle, with your toes pointed about forty-five degrees inwards.  Next, walk like that until the top of your foot, just outside of your ankle calluses and pads up, just like that thing you used to call your heel.  This is your new one.  Enjoy.  This is no joke.
The procedure for these depends is pretty cool.  After releasing the foot by snipping the posterior tibial tendon, the outside half of the foot is opened up and chunks of bone are removed either by hammer or saw, and wrench, until, when pushed back together, it looks anatomically acceptable.  Eventually the bone fuses together and though there is much less flexibility in the foot, the patient’s heel will actually be the patient’s heel.  Doctor! Doctor! [said in crescendo (that’s volume, not pitch)] Or so I’ve learned from my fanatical father who does this even after giving haircuts.  Or he just screams like a little girl (Can someone say if he does this in surgery too please?).  I didn’t get that gene.  I think this is best followed up with a blood-spattering high-five.  Although, that might not be the best idea when your OR has concurrent, parallel beds.
In other exciting news: I’ve heard from CMC people about work this week for next week’s groundbreaking UXO convention in Vientiane.  I only hope they still have use for me when I return.  Also, one of my friends who I’m sure doesn’t read this got into medical school, so congratulations to her, despite the fact that she neglected to tell me.
Hope all’s well in Vientiane in my absence (or thereby) and back in Seattle.  And the rest of the world too.  Except for Portland, for a number of reasons.  But seriously, straight love.
Also, for some inexplicable reason, I was the only person without a camera today.  I guess I forgot that HIPAA doesn't exist in Vietnam.  Tomorrow I'll take plenty of personally identifying and gory pictures that I will post with names, ages, hospital, dates, past medical histories, and procedures. (In case this might ever be used against me in the future: NOT ACTUALLY) I have mad (M-A-D) respect for personal privacy and dignity.

OK, on more thing.  Giants suck.

Hanoi and Son La - November 1 and 2

I have just arrived in Son La and been fed enough food for about 4 people: 5 full dishes.  I tried to eat half of it to be polite, but I am regretting that decision now.  I’m a little mystified as to my stay here, the driver picked me up this morning and after speeding through the mountains for 5 and a half hours, we were in Son La.
I called Rose from the hotel.  She’s the Vietnamese woman who seems to run POF (Prosthetics Outreach Foundation) on the ground over here.  She quickly handed the phone to Dr. Dales, as neither of us could understand each other with our accents and background noise enough to blare us out anyhow.  Mark said to stay put so I went to my room and about half an hour later I had a driver beckoning me to come with him to the Hospital.  Yes.
Pulling up to the hospital, there were vendors outside, selling dry and wet goods and people swarming, most likely family taking a walk as they waited for their loved ones to emerge from clinic or OR.  The fron the two buildings behind the wall and gated entrance wore sun-spots well, showing their age as well as some of the men and women they held safe, sterile, healing and jam-packed inside.  We drove around the first building and to the left, where two newer-looking buildings, less freckled, revealed themselves and parked right outside the front entrance.  I walked in, khakis, t-shirt and sneakers and up two flights of stairs, past thirty-some different family members of those past a set of double doors.  Surgery.  I arrived for the tail-end of patient consults, and entered what was the changing room, where the docs were lining up and re-evaluating tomorrow’s cases, some of the patients still present.  The room was crowded, something that would be deemed intrusive to patient privacy at home, but for the most part, the patients and families didn’t seem to mind.  I don’t speak Vietnamese or any of the tribal languages here, so I truly don’t know.  Facial expressions conveyed worry, fear, thankfulness and for physically unaffected family members and patients alike, hopeful happiness.  No matter how many people were in the room, everyone cared to improve the conditions which some patients had endured much too long.
Dinner was noodles.  So we thought.  It was actually hotpot with some noodles at the end, after everyone had gotten their fill from tofu, meat and greens boiled in some concentration of aqueous monosodium-glutamate.  Yum.  Rice “wine” was passed around.  At the other end of the table.  Boo.  This is no sake.  It is vodka.  As with lunch, I ate too much, I think all the whities here feel that way.  And its not hard with all the locals pushing food and liquor on you constantly.  The minute you look to your right to share a smile or some words, your new friend to the left dumps some more noodles and beef into your bowl.  Sigh and eat.  Even if it does mean an extra 1000mg Tums.
Tomorrow you’ll feel better and it’ll be a whole new adventure with completely different people.

WHHHHAAAAAA? - November 3

This post is only to warn that there are two, count 'em TWO posts going up now that I have internet.  Don't be too stunned, amazed, excited, or angry.  Just enjoy.

Angkor - October 17-22

This last week was one of pure fascination and amazement.  Sunday morning we woke up early to catch our plane through Pakse (in southern Laos) to Siem Reap.  Siem Reap is the tourist-infested town that re-emerged in the late 90s as a result of the growing publicity, and popularity of the Angkor Ruins.  It was 9:00 when we landed at the airport and emerged to find Ta, our tuk tuk driver with a sign for Sophia (who’d made the reservation).  Ta spoke little English but smiled well and was always franticly trying to help.  He took us through Siem Reap and north toward the ruins, where our hotel was.  It was a nice place to stay because it was quiet and we escaped the downtown Siem Reap scene.  Crowds of tourists fighting through mobs of Cambodians of all ages, trying to sell them anything they might buy.
After dropping our bags in our room, we took off to buy our passes and head to Angkor Wat.  We each bought seven day passes, which ran us a total of $120 US, the most we’d spent on anything during our time here, other than our plane tickets, even the hotel for the five nights didn’t cost as much.  In the end though, we were glad we went for the seven day passes, the next option was $40 for a three day pass.
Like we’d been told, and read a number of times, the first view of Angkor Wat was impressive to say the least.  A moat the width of more than a football field surrounded the grounds, with a west and east entrance.  The west entrance is the one we entered through; the main entrance where tour buses crowded the lanes of the road off-loading and loading their cargo.  It was about 11:30 when we arrived, so it was peak tourist time, not too early and not too hot.
The walkway to the gate has been restored twice since the 70s, owing to the immense foot-traffic it endures.  First built in the 1100s, everything is stone, giving it a sense of permanence and importance.  In this case, the setting is nice, in the jungle and surrounded by a man-dug moat, which also likely served as a drainage reservoir.  But it is not the setting which gives Angkor Wat its supreme quality, it’s the architecture and the carvings, the creation itself.  Symmetry is easy to find in all of the temples built in around this World Heritage site, adding to the perfection of its construction.  For me, I naturally have to compare all of Angkor to Machu Picchu and what I have known of the Inca cities and temple I’ve visited in central Peru.  Although Machu Picchu was built a good 200-300 years later, and in a completely different part of the world, its magnificence lies in the materials of its construction, giant boulders perfectly carved into rectangular cubes to fit perfectly together; airtight.  This is something you don’t see at Angkor Wat.  But the religion of the Inca empire lost, the Hindu and Buddhist carvings and statues present at every turn serve to give Angkor more of a connection to the times we live in.  Both seem surreal, and make your imagination reel.
We spent about 3:00 hours on our first visit, crawling into corners, through crumbled window-frames, and out onto walls originally unintended for visit.  Ropes and signs exist, but in stark comparison to the littering treatment they receive in the US and many European historic sites.  At 14:30 we returned to find Ta outside the front gate, as we were mobbed once again by kids selling guidebooks, bracelets, water and coke, magnets, hats, t-shirts, baskets, the list goes on…
The clouds began to crowd the sky and Ta said it would rain as we drove through the south gate of Angkor Thom, the Ancient City, passing by the path (on the left) to Phnom Bakheng.  The south gate was adorned with a giant Buddha head and preceded by another bridge and a moat surrounding the entire city.  The driveway through the trees slowly revealed Bayon, a large temple supposedly in the very center of the city.  We drove around Bayon and on the other side I hopped out to take a photo.  Ta hopped off his motorbike so I grabbed the FE and snapped one of him after he let out a few buttons on his shirt.  It began to rain.
The Terrace of the Elephants was at the right and the Terrace of the Leper King just north of that.  Across the street, to the west, Baphuon, the biggest temple inside the city stands high behind its long (200m) bridge walkway.  Baphuon itself is closed to visitors, and two cranes assist the hundred workers inside who have been working since the mid-90’s to restore the temple.  Still, its grandeur is apparent, and it clearly towers above any of the other temples nearby.  Before passing the Terrace of the Leper King, but after the Terrace of the Elephants, we took a right onto the road heading out to the east gate.  Past the east gate, we drove by Ta Keo, and Ta Prohm (to name the two that are most memorable) and then past Srah Srang (The Royal Bath) and Banteay Kdei.  At this point it was pouring rain and we headed quickly back to the hotel, excusing a few stops for rain-soaked pictures.
The night that followed was, as I previously described in an email to my family, a night of impromptu drinking on Pub Street, a closed off, seemingly requisitioned block for higher-priced ($4-7) food and watered-down drinks for farangs, but protected from pesky saleskids.  We met an (to use his adjective for us) interesting German, who looked much older than he claimed (19).  He took a quick liking to “us” and at the end of the night we agreed to meet up again with him the following evening for food and drink.
Sunrise at Angkor Wat the following morning was a mix of blues and pinks, and tourists at the exterior wall, soon headed back to their hotels for the second half of their beauty-sleep.  Even in our state, whatever that was, we stayed and enjoying a peaceful morning in the temple, without the hordes.  Sophia fell asleep on the floor of the first terrace, next to one of four pools outside the cruciform walkway.  I walked through to the east gate of the temple, an almost un-touched relic off under hundred-year-old trees and connected to the crumbled eastern exterior wall.  I returned to the temple to take more pictures and to find Sophia, as it was about 7:00, and we’d shown up around 5:45.  Sophia was nowhere to be found, but plenty of pictures were!  I also met a very nice guy named Vannak who was working with a filmcrew who was there that morning filming some touristy spots.  He was really nice, and very interesting, with the hope to travel to the US where “everyone has money and is really nice.”  I tried to tell him off and find a better reason but he seemed content with perception of the US, I wish I had so much optimism all the time.  At about 9:00 I still hadn’t found Sophia but had taken another 200-some photographs.  I walked out the west gate and found Ta, gave him my tripod and returned to find Sophia.  I found her sitting on the wall above a pool kitty-corner the one she had been sleeping by.  We slowly made our way out but stopped to see some monkey fornication and monkey fighting and monkey cleaning and monkey chillin’.  It was 10:30.  We spent the rest of the day sweating our way through Angkor Thom.  I won’t go into too much detail on all of these ruins, because you can see for yourself when I post pictures on flickr.  But we did get a tour of the Terrace of the Elephants from some kids making money for their crippled schoolteacher and school (probably a scam) and they showed us a giant spider, that for some reason we had no choice but to walk under.  This thing gives me chills every time I think about it.  Its body was about half the size of my fist and was glistening black with blue and yellow decals.  It probably weighed a good half-pound but nonetheless perched itself comfortably facing the ground in midair on its massive web.  For the rest of the trip I freaked when I walked through a spider web, thinking that thing was going to come chasing after me.  One kid said it was harmless the other said “very dangerous.”  I’ll go with very dangerous.
Here’s the rest of our Itinerary:
Day 3 - Rolous Group:    Lolei - A set of four towers outside of a crucifix with well-preserved carvings and original Sanskrit engravings in the doorways.
              Preah Ko - A temple complex between Lolei and Bakong also with many well-preserved carvings and six temples built on a large platform terrace with another temple to the southeast, right inside the gatehouse.
               Bakong - A large Temple with a series of levels, elephants at each corner and on each level.  The steps are gradual, not steep in comparison to other temples such as Ta Keo and Phnom Bakheng.  The complex is surrounded by a beautiful moat, and like many other of the ruins, a new Buddhist temple is just inside the moat, off the causeway.
                Phnom Krom:  This was one of my favorites.  We saw no tourists except for a family of eastern heritage who laughed farang as we sweat our way past them.  The climb to the temple is an easy one, a set of stairs and a curving road at a slight incline and a final stairway for a total of a few-hundred feet.  But we did this in the heat of the day, around 11:30, with the sun piercing down on our backs.  Our newly-applied sunscreen sweat off after a few minutes and I burned slightly as a result.  There are six towers at the ruins, at the very top of the hill over the lake, three of them sit up about five feet off the ground on a platform similar to that at Preah Ko.  After about ten minutes walking around and taking pictures we were approached by a group of official-looking individuals (two of the seven(!) had APSARA uniforms (APSARA is the government company that maintains the Angkor sites)) who told us we needed letters of permission to take pictures.  Meanwhile, one of these goons pulls out his Sony point-and-shoot and starts snapping pics of us on-site.  Talk about ironic.  We’re convinced they were just trying to extort us, but we refused to play their games, and we already had a number of good photos, so we walked back down to the new temple a 50 feet below, a beautiful Buddhist temple with lots of white, orange, and blue.  I also saw about 4 HTC Droid phones during my visit to this temple and 0 whities.  It was a beautiful site and well-preserved.  Well worth the small hike and large loss of water.
                Lunch:  This should be recorded, on the way back to Siem Reap, we stopped just out of town and had lunch at one of the many restaurants lining the lake.  We chillaxed in some hammocks while we waited for our fruitshakes, which we had two rounds of and the Amok Soup was incredible.  Amok is a fish that Cambodia is famous for.  This was the best food I had during my time there.
                We headed back and rest up for an hour.  At 3 departed for Ta Keo.
                Ta Keo:  This temple rises out of the ground in a hurry, and is a scary climb on the way back down.  Not to be done in the rain.  This was, for me, the most astonishing architecture we’d seen because of its steepness and size.  Four towers at the penultimate terrace corner the center tower, the base of which is another 30 or so feet above.  This is a common design.
                Ta Prohm:  We came back here for our final morning as well because we wanted to make sure we got the most out of it.  This temple is rather flat but is scattered in the jungle and its grounds are massive.  From either west or east entrance, you walk a good quarter-mile until you can make out the temple.  Giant trees tower above the complex and grow out of, from, through, on, seemingly with the crumbling jungle ruins of this temple.  It is man vs. nature most literally.  This place is a must-see.
                Right when we got there, it started pouring rain, and Sophia left her pass in the tuk tuk.  The tourists stormed out and Sophia caught a motorbike to the west gate, where Ta was waiting for us to get her pass.  I walked through quickly with my gear and covered in my rain jacket to find her on the opposing walkway.  Then we entered and enjoyed it solemnly as the sun faded away.  She was eventually caught (around 5:45) by a worker and escorted to the entrance where she was dropped off.  Ta was no supposedly waiting for us at the first gate (where I entered).  I wasn’t caught and emerged right at 6:00.  It was a ghost town, no one was at any of the thirty stands usually stocked with drinks and trinkets and kids selling to you shamelessly.  A man stepped out from behind a tree with a walkie-talkie and saw me.  He spoke no English, and I no Khmer but eventually he called a motorbike over, and fifteen minutes later, $1, and a nighttime ride around the walls of Ta Prohm gripping my tripod and the bike in either hand I found Ta and Sophia, and we went home.
Day 4 - Sunrise at Phnom Bakheng, Just south of Angkor Thom and Northwest of Angkor Wat, we climbed the spiraling elephant path behind some annoying Brits.  We were most offended because they kept saying, “Do you think anyone is up here before us?”  Sophia and I were proud to be the first to the site that morning but were stopped at 5:15 by a guard who made us wait until 5:30.  Of course, these three kids show up, hop out of their tuk tuk, pull out of their flashlights and head right up the path right at 5:30, no one saying a thing to them.  The guard tells us we can go, so we got to follow them up.  FML.
Sunrise was beautiful there, and there were only maybe ten people there total.  To the south, you can see the hill where Phnom Krom is, and Angkor Wat is just to the right off the eastern exposure of the temple.  Unlike other temples the penultimate terrace has a number of towers, maybe eight, some in ruins, maybe 12, and the final has four towers at the corners and a large shrine in the middle.
                Angkor Thom:  We took more time to explore Baphuon and the grounds of the Royal Palace and the temple therein.  Then through the gate of yet another crumbling wall to Preah Palilay.   An older American guy with a Canon 5D Mark II and a tripod told us to walk back there, so we did.  It was awesome.  Two trees grow out of the southern steps to the temple, worth a great number of photos, and we didn’t see any tourists, despite being in the middle of Angkor Thom.
                Rest
                Preah Kanh: Lunch on the way to Preah Kanh made me sick, or maybe I was sick before, but I ended up running the two miles through Preah Kanh to find the toilet and then re-entered.  The grounds, once again were huge, and the temple very cool.  As opposed to many of the more squarely configured temples we’d seen, Preah Kanh was the first we saw which was very long and narrow.  If there is no one walking through, you can see all the way through the main corridor to the opposite side.  The temple architecture itself isn’t that impressive, but there is an uncharacteristic Romanesque shrine at the eastern end of the complex and on the other side a tree’s root that stretches down along the wall like an elephant’s trunk.  Very cool.
                Neak Pean: I still don’t know how to say the name of this, but its’ awesome.  You walk through the jungle on a wooden walkway over a lake, until you reach the first, the arrangement is again cruciform, with four small square pools surrounding one large pool.  In the middle pool, a circular platform rises from the water in step form, and two snake statues point toward the east and a tower stands atop.  The reflections here are incredible.  While we were visiting a number of women monks were visiting each of the small temples which separate the main pool from the side pools.
                Srah Srang: There isn’t much to see at the Royal Bath, just a small pedestal above the water, and a lot of kids swimming and fishing, and a giant reservoir, worth a quick stop though, as its right across from Banteay Kdei.
                Banteay Kdei: Some carvings here are well preserved.  We went at sunset and the light coming through was fantastic.  The layout is very similar to that of Preah Kanh, but it is much smaller.  A nice tree grows out of the wall to the left of the main entrance.  If you walk all the way through to the back and then take a left, you can get a memorable view of the temple off of what water there is in what used to be a moat.  The sun sets just over the temple if you are at the east entrance, and is nice through the trees, but no grand vista by any means.
Day 5 -  Since we’d mostly been visiting the temples around Siem Reap, we made our way out to Banteay Srei, a temple built entirely out of pink sandstone, and Banteay Kbai Spean.
                Banteay Kbai Spean: We got here at 9:00, it took us a little under 1 and a half hours to get here from Siem Reap (it’s about 12km past Bantear Srei).  We made the quick walk up (about 25 minutes) the rock strewn path, only, what’s marked every 100m, as 1500m.  The waterfalls here are nice, but even cooler are all the carvings.  Sophia got a free tour by a girl at the top.  I saw many, but I don’t think all of the carvings, most of which are under water.  There is one carving of a woman lying on her side somewhat preserved and is at the top of the falls.  You can walk through the water below the falls, at some places only ankle deep.  Sophia and I took a quick dip and did some awkward camera posing, before the place was overrun by tourists.  It quickly was.
                Banteay Srei: Pretty cool.  Despite there being this incredibly annoying British family with a frantic and screaming mother, a family (I might add) that managed to sneak into every one of my shots with complete disregard and cause me to be bit by red ants.  But that’s enough complaining.  This place is really cool.  Everything is very well preserved, better than any other site we visited.  The carvings are very depictive, and a small moat inside of the outer wall gives nice reflections of the small temple.  On our way out, two kids were walking along, in my normal way, I said hello, “Soo s’dtay,” and both responded in kind.  The girl 15, the boy 4, but both spoke clearly and the girl good English.  I asked to take a picture of them as they sat in the window frame of the east gate gopura.  They asked for a dollar, which I honestly didn’t have, despite it, they happily obliged and both gave lovely smiles.  I took it on film, as I have many of the people here, so I can’t share it now, but maybe one day…  Anyway, Banteay Srei was small but worth the visit out of town, if not only to see a little bit of the countryside.
                We did Friday morning at Ta Prohm, and though the sunrise was hardly visible, we needed another visit to this fascinating site.  I would do sunrise at Ta Keo and then immediately head to Ta Prohm (right next door) if I had more time or were to do it again.  Then we went back to the hotel and left for the airport.
                Though the food was more expensive than it should have been, and completely unremarkable, we paid about $70 for personal tuk tuk driving to all of the sites we saw (we made Ta work hard), and $65 for the room for 5 nights.  It was an amazing trip and I’m glad we had about 5 full days, but it still seemed like hardly enough, just so much to see.  Even just after the first two days, if someone we met told us they were just there for a day or two, we felt bad for them because they were certainly missing a lot.  So, go to Angkor, and then go to Machu Picchu.  And check out my pictures on flickr please.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/alexkrengel/sets/72157625092797953/

New Blog Pics

Alright, I'm putting some pics up just to make the blog look better.  I'm not arranging them around text or anything like that.  Just pictures.  Enjoy.  These first two are just some awesome pics of Soph and me.  Oh wait, these are the only pics I'm showing here.  I've rearranged things back on flickr, so they're easy to go through by subject.  Check 'em: http://www.flickr.com/photos/alexkrengel/collections/72157625132496910/




Are these picturs offensive? Possibly. But we are technically multi-hundred-millionaires over here so we're loving it.

Tires - October 3 - 10, 2010

What do you think about when you think of tires?  For me, I think back to the days of the Oregon Trail, when wheeled wagons sunk trenches into the dirt, making the road eventually impassable.  There was no tread on the old-fashioned wheel, just a nice, big circular piece of wood, one on either side of an axle.  Now, with modern cars, we’ve felt the need to upgrade from those huge, outside-the-chassis wheels that were eventually circumferentially wrapped in a rubber tube.  Sure, this gives us more tread, and takes stress off the wheelbase, giving a new longevity to surface transport via motorized vehicles.
However, my last week has been consumed by the failings of this modern-era invention, which has, by all my estimates—and despite the common Bridgestone, Goodyear and once Firestone ads that plague our television airwaves-turned-cable over the last few decades—failed to advance technologically.  Sorry, I know that was a long sentence.  Anyway, last Sunday, a week from today, we descended from the Nam Ngum Reservoir, and, hearing a loud clanking we pulled off the side of the road, just below the dam, opposite families of happy picnickers.  I stepped out my door, walked around the car and found, to no surprise, a dead-flat tire.  We pulled the spare out of the trunk, jacked the car, and replaced the flat.  This thing was blown, and our offroading (in the ten year-old, hatchback Mazda) had ripped the wheel right through the tire—completely shot.  Tu Hkawng had to jump up and down on the wrench to loosen the bolts, but finally we had the car settled back on all-fours.  Except the spare was half-flat, so we slowly rolled along, asked a bike-borne ice cream salesman for directions to the nearest mechanic, and rolled along some more in the direction he’d pointed.  Pointing was essentially as much as he’d done, aside given some arbitrary unit of distance relative to a few obscure landmarks—this is about all we’ve come to expect when asking for directions here. We found some air about sawng lak (2 km) down the road at a shop.
I took some adorable pictures of this little kid with a big head and a bag of junk food.  That stop also marked an important turning point in my journey here, as I learned how to say, ‘tai houp dai baw?’ Is it ok to take a picture?  I’ve found that this isn’t always especially clear, because there is no subject in the sentence, so some people understand the assumption that I am asking for their permission to photograph them, and others—maybe more self-conscious—think I’m interested in their shops, houses, or in a rather common case, their screaming and shouting, leashed pet monkeys.
This reminds me of the news I have heard recently of Johnny Depp—in an effort to publicize the next Pirates movie he showed up at a school, after Cap’n Jack Sparrow was solicited by a young girl in a gang of budding pirates in a British school.  The only thing I can think, is with the relatively recent upsurge in dangerous pirating activities in and outside of Somalia especially, why it is ok to support young schoolchildren who want to be pirates.  Imagination, in this case, should be nipped in the bud.  I solicit argument on this case, so please email me at alexanderkrengel@gmail.com if you happen to disagree.  Pirating is NOT ok.  Nor does it have anything to do with tires, so I digress.  By the way, how does a pirate seal a hole in his pirate ship? T’Arrrrrrgh!  Maybe they do relate; the jury’s out.
This was a week of waxing disappointments.  We started the week eager to find work, anything really.  We journeyed to COPE, a group that is part of the Lao National Rehabilitation Center, and when I say journey I mean that more metaphorically than physically, its only about 5 minutes away by car.  COPE stands for cooperative orthotics prosthetics enterprise, not grammatically or poetically pleasing, but a terrific organization nonetheless. They were established to aid the ailing amputees and otherwise disabled people from Laos.  Many of these are in great part due to UXO (unexploded ordinance) in more remote areas of the country.  Aside from the clinic and visitor center here in the capital, Vientiane, there are two other clinics in other parts of the country.  We toured around the visitor center, guided by Jack, a very friendly, and well-speaking, young, multilingual Lao man.  Then we spoke to Brendon, a newcomer who for three weeks has been the director of the visitor center.  We offered our services and sent in our CVs.  We at first were excited by the seemingly promising opportunity of volunteer work at COPE.  That was until two days later, when our emails were returned.  The removed diction and almost bureaucratic syntax that followed stood in stark contrast to the conversations we’d had on Monday.  This was the first disappointment of our trip.  Nonetheless, we were offered the opportunity to help at their concert next weekend, an effort to raise money for the disabled.  We will hand out flyers on Friday and help staff the concert with our incapable tongues.  Check out http://www.copelaos.org/
So, to get back to tires… Blogging is tiresome, and I’m not quite getting the gist of it quite yet.  Clearly my posts are too long, while Sophia seems to think that blogging is the same as tweeting.  Seriously, check out her blog.  In all honesty though, I wish I did it with more frequency and brevity, instead, both my and you are left with these long descriptions of my boring life.
The week went on rather unsurprisingly, one hot day followed by one even hotter.  Now its Sunday and I swear to god, sitting underneath the windows against the river, even at 5 o’clock my back sweats the 30+ degree heat compounded by dense water vapor.
Yesterday, we probably made the biggest success thus far, in our quarter here in the PDR of Lao.  A Vietnamese family with a big lot off the side of the road near some of the converted and developed wetlands (bad) sold us bikes.  I regret to inform you that we really don’t have any sweet biking pics yet, but we will soon, and you can check them out.  In case you’re curious as to who’s bike is cooler, the answer is clearly mine.  Sophia defaulted herself out of the competition when she refused to buy the bike formerly known as “Taco.”  It’s still called that, and wears its name proudly adorned across the top bar.  And it’s still looking for an owner.  Anyways, we tried bartering, but our white faces automatically increased the price two fold, and eventually we got both bikes for a little over $200.  I’m convinced we were ripped off, but they ride great and have the immense intangible value of freedom and transportation.  Which, for the next two months is probably of great value.  I will no longer feel anchored in the house, dreading the chore of hailing a tuk tuk, and bargaining to get a still-overpriced ride into town.  I mean, it’s not like we can just walk away shaking our heads, hoping for a deal to pop out the driver’s ass.  We walk away and then we wait ten more minutes for the next driver to refuse us service because he doesn’t have any more clearance on his back tires, and the next to give us the same price.  We usually pay about 15 to 20 thousand kip for a ride in or out, which is more than it supposedly costs for locals.  But still, for a 2+ mile taxi, $2.50 on average ain’t a dealbreaker in the slightest.
We test-rode our bikes before paying, and then endured a fifteen minute argument with the owners, who claimed someone would have to stay here while we went to get money.  Despite Jacqui clearly telling them 5 times that we weren’t taking the bikes with us.  We returned an hour or two later and paid, then rode them 100 meters before my front tire was flat and we were still blocks from our lunch restaurant, where we were supposed to meet Jacqui, who was driving.  When I took mine back to get a new tire, which I had no intention of paying for, the kid doing most of the work pulled a spine out of my front tire, claiming that it was the reason it was flat; blaming me.  Except for when we’d bought them the tire was already flat, and he had lied to us, saying he’d already switched the tubes and just hadn’t inflated it.  Makes no sense.  I refuse to be swindled.  You know how I feel about pirates.  So, after about three hours of dealing with my bike tire, I finally had a functional bike.  This is all to say, that wasn’t the first tire problem we’d dealt with yesterday.
The morning began around 11:30, when we left with Jacqui—two goals to accomplish.  First off, her replacement tire—the one she’d gotten put on to replace the spare from last weekend’s incident—had gone, and I repeat, dead flat.  Despite it all, we drove about a mile on her wheel before finding air, and then continuing to the shop.  Turns out they’d replace the left front tire, not the left rear, the one that had been blown and replaced.  So, we sat at the tire shop for about an hour and a half while they removed the tire, found the hole, melted some rubber, sealed it, replaced it on the wheel, and then replaced the wheel on the car.  Whew.
Tires Suck

Go to my flickr for pictures from the last week, this google uploading business takes me at least an hour for about 5 or 6 photos, all arranged properly.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/alexkrengel/sets/72157625053023584/