Date: Fri, 4 May 2001 05:52:35 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jay Schneider
Subject: “Here I am…”
“…rock you like a hurricane!”
(sorry, I was at a restaurant the other day which played “Scorpion’s Greatest Hits,” and I just can’t shake the tune.)
Before we begin, I should like to talk about the length of my last update. Most of you, I’m sure, prized each and every word, savored all 20-something-K, and were so engrossed and absorbed in my wacky/heroic/inspiring adventures that upon reaching the end, immediately stood up and cried out, “More, Jay! Tell me MORE!!!” (much to your own embarrassment if in the workplace at the time of your outburst). However, a few of you were cheeky enough to make snide comments about it. To those of you who had to pay dearly for your internet time (sorry, Ava), I apologize. The others, I suspect,, were fueled by envy and jealousy. No apologies there, as I’m thankful I could write so much about two months of my life, and pray I never reach a point when I can’t write more than a few words about my life.
(enough scolding)
In my last few weeks, I celebrated my fourth New Year in as many months and also made some serious decisions, which may affect some of you. But before I get to that (I’m sure my rambling e-mails have nothing to do with my inability to keep on track), I have a bit of a confession to make.
I did something a while back, of which I’m not too proud–I thought about filling out a job application for a position back home. I didn’t actually do it, mind you, but the thought’s as much of a sin as the deed. Fret not, my dear readers, my lapse in judgment had nothing to do with me becoming responsible about my future. I chalk it up to having nothing better to do (devil finding work for idle hands, and all that). I had some time to kill at an internet cafe (hour already paid for, caught up on my fan mail, no neighbor’s screen to read over the shoulder)and, and I just got to surfing around. Out of curiosity, I happened across some job listings. It put evil thoughts about careers, my job skills, experience, and what not in my mind, which I quickly squashed, clicking my way over to the ‘Survivor’ homepage, and catching up on what’s going on in the outback.
But my on the internet was not all bad. As many people do on such extended journeys, I dabbled in my own self-examination. I did a bit of searching for myself and after typing “Jay Schneider” into my search engine came up with some interesting (if not frightening) results. For example: Jay Schneider of M.S.A.M. Games writes, “Games and gaming have always been an important part of my life. I started playing chess at 5, played in my first tournament at 8, and was the highest-rated elementary player in the United States” He also enjoys playing the game “Magic, the Gathering” and is apparently famous for designing a deck called the “Schneider Pox.” (I don’t quite know how I feel about the existence of such a thing.”)
And then there’s the page that begins his homepage by answering the question I’d been asking myself all these years… “Who is Jay Schneider?. . . Jay Schneider is an evangelist committed to the idea that the word of God holds the key to any true change of heart and life. ”
And yes, I have been writing ‘reverend’, ‘preacher’ and ‘internet evangelist’ as my profession for all my various visa forms and entry/exit cards this past month.
And now, on with the show (finally),
Having it in me to ride a Thai train again, and unable to do so for my Malaysia–Bangkok leg, I was more determined than ever ride the rails to Chiang Mai, and went to reserve my ticket days in advance. But it happened to be nearing the Thai New year, and I was disappointed to find all sleeper berths were totally booked up for days to come–that is until I asked about first class. And so it was, that I rode to the Northern Thailand city in style, even receiving a complimentary Thai State Rail coffee mug. Nothin’ but the best for this kid. (though I want to make it clear that if any of you reading this should receive such a mug from me as a token of my affection, THAT particular gift is a precious item, sought out, selected, and given with all my heart.)
(hang on, it’s 6 pm. Thai National Anthem. Gotta stand….okay, I’m back.)
In Chiang Mai, I made my way to the thoughtfully named “Chiang Mai Guesthouse.” As most guesthouses in the area, mine offered jungle treks (in fact, it’s how they make their money, so there’s a bit of pressure), and not being too keen on this kind of package deal, I spent much of my morning politely refusing to sign on for the trek leaving the next day. (“Look, for the last time, I don’t want to go on your damned trek!”)
Already in town were Justin and Dan, two Americans I’d met in Nepal, and with whom I’d hoped to cross paths again. Though I came to Chiang Mai in style, my digs at the CM guesthouse couldn’t compare to the place at which Justin and Dan stayed. A little background: Justin lived in Chiang Mai for 3 months studying Thai kickboxing, and since that time frequently passes through his old stomping (kicking?) grounds for a few weeks at a time. Consequently, he’s found a great top-end place, with very reasonable rates, particularly when staying long-term. After waking up the boys and catching up on the past 5 months, Dan and Justin were confirming with each other about the hazy events of the previous evening (outside a local disco: a slight scuffle with a local lady-boy, which continued even after the participants were on fast-moving motorcycles — Man, I always miss the good stuff!), while I was captivated with the cable t.v., a/c, cable t.v., kitchenette, cable t.v., large bed, and cable t.v. They also had cable t.v., and I was content to spend hours catching up on my Mtv (finally got to put faces and names to those boy bands I’d been hearing all night, every night in Bangkok). Finally, I was dragged out of the room and up to the roof-top pool which commanded great views of the city. If you haven’t figured out by now, it’s not too shabby a place.
But it’s not just to impress me that the boys live so well in Chiang Mai, it’s actually a very reasonable deal, and since their ‘Big Trip’ (as they’ve dubbed it) is a rather lengthy one, it helps to have a base to come back to, a get re-charged before going back out again (why I’ve chosen disgusting, shoe-box rooms in Bangkok to do this, I still haven’t figured out).
Also, Justin’s taking advantage of the setting to study for the LSAT, and Dan plans to return in September, specifically for that same purpose. That afternoon, Dan was going to see what deals he could find at other hotels. I, on the other hand, planned to go out and see if there were any tests I could sign up for, giving me an excuse to stay at such a place. (I bet if I chose to study for something like the Bar Exam, I could justify a good year or so in such a place!)
Anyhoo, in talking with Dan and Justin, they convinced me that a trek wasn’t such a bad idea, and they’d quite enjoyed their own trips. Since these were the guys who convinced me to shave my head and have needles rammed through my ear back in Nepal (Ears pierced in Kathmandu? What were we thinking?), I was sold.
So back at the Chiang Mai Guest House, I sheepishly asked about the possibility, and..er..if there was any way, I..er..ha-ha.. I mean.. of my perhaps getting in on that ‘damned trek’ that I earlier had no interest in. Signing my name on the sheet, I noticed just about all of the other trekkers were women, and immediately began to think this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. The trek is a bit of a ‘sampler’ involving some jungle trekking, elephant riding, riding a bamboo raft downriver, and staying with local hill-tribe villages. I had initially been turned off, knowing if I wanted to do serious jungle trekking, I’d need to go further out, and that the ‘staying with a hill tribe family,’ would in no way compare to my times in Cambodia or Nepal. Also, I’d done the ‘ride an elephant through the jungle’ thing the first time I’d been to Thailand, and it’s not a very comfortable ride.
As it turned out, the trek was good fun. This was all due to the other members of the trek, who were really great people (and I’m not just saying that because they’re being sent this same message). We had a good laugh (laughing with each other, if not at each other), and I was reminded that part of what I enjoy so much about travel is meeting my fellow travelers. (Funny that meeting fellow travelers can also be what I hate so much about travel, but there you go.)
The ‘jungle trekking’ wasn’t much, but it was nice to hike around a bit, the elephant ride wasn’t nearly as bad as I remembered, and though I felt more an intruder (and paying customer) than a guest in the village ‘homestays,’ the bamboo rafting ride was good-wet fun! After we’d returned to Chiang Mai, we all spent time together until we each moved on our separate ways. I feel lucky to have met them, and hope we keep in touch, perhaps to meet again someday. (And I’m not just saying that in hopes of a free place to stay in, say, London/New Zealand, or wherever…)
Happily chatting and getting to know each other in the back of a truck on the way to begin our trekking experience, none of us knew what hit us (literally for a moment or two), when the first bucket of water smacked us. We had just been introduced to ‘Songkran.’
‘Songkran’ is the Thai New Year, during which worshippers ‘bathe’ Buddha images. They also bless each other, sprinkling or pouring water over each other. At least that’s the theory. In reality, it’s the biggest, and greatest (assuming you’re a willing participant) water fight in the world. For 3 days (officially, but some rogues are at it for a full week) from dusk till dawn, Chiang Mai was pure and utter, wet ‘n’ wild insanity. Cruising pick-ups trucks, loaded with water-warriors, armed with buckets and super-soakers, packed the streets around the moat. Foot soldiers held their ground on the sidewalks, drenching any car, truck, motorcycle, bicycle, and pedestrian passing by. No one immune, no one safe, everyone wet and soaked to the bone. Everyone is fair game: the armed, the unarmed; the old, the young; the wet, the dry; and even the truck full of monks. Fathers and mothers carefully instructed their children how to take aim and wollup the silly tourists. That older, innocent woman approaching with the bucket? Mistake to let my guard down. She got me. She got me good. Sneak down the alleys and less crowded side streets? Those in ambush hit you harder, ’cause they get fewer targets. Empty gun in hand, run into a phone booth for protection from that approaching truck? Too late, I was spotted. The truck stopped, the booth door was opened and a bucket gently poured over my head, female attacker smiling all the while. No matter how wet you get, and how many times you’ve been hit, you never get used to the buckets of ICE WATER(!), which were far greater in number than I’d have liked. While the water pulled directly from the moat was warmer, you never feel totally at ease with the purity of its content. And through all this, there was nothing malicious about it. Smiles were always in fashion (except for the unsuspecting tourists who had hoped to actually sight-see and keep their cameras and valuables dry. I think if I let loose with a water gun on a total stranger back home, he (or she) may return the favor with a real gun, but there ya go.) It’s the coolest water fight in the world.
Songkran officially over, and finally dried out, I made the decision to move on. I smiled as we passed through the villages, the children still ‘at it,’ splashing every car to pass through. I laughed at the fun I’d had, and even more that I was dry inside a closed vehicle.
A vehicle which brings us (or at least it brought me) to Laos.
I LOVED LAO. It’s impossible to say which place is “my favorite” or “the best,” as I’ve had such incredible and varied experiences in many countries. That said, if someone caught me unawares (say, sneaking into my room and waking me in the middle of the night to the question, “What’s your favorite place?”) there’s a good chance ‘Lao’ would escape from my lips before I could say anything else). In spite of inadvertently visiting during the HOTTEST month of the year (April is the HOTTEST month of the year!), and apparently the only one in Laos who didn’t one way or another meet Matt Dillon (filming in Cambodia, on holiday in Laos), I LOVED LAOS!!!
I know, I know, I can hear the groans from here. After how much I raved and consequently typed about Indonesia, you’re all hunkering down for another long haul. But, I’ll just give you a few bits ‘n’ pieces (isn’t that what I said last time?), and leave the rest unwritten. “If you wanna know, you gotta go.”
+++ Slow Boat to Luang Prabang +++
From the border town of Huay Xi, I traveled down the Mekong for 2 days to Luang Prabang. I was assured that though the small cargo boat was slow, only 20 passengers would be aboard, with plenty of room to stretch out, relax, and enjoy the beauty of the countryside. Waiting on the landing, I noticed far more than 20 (closer to 40) waiting passengers, and one tiny boat, the floor of which was filled with dozens of 50 kg. sacks of rice. Hopes that ‘our boats’ had arrived yet, were dashed when we were all herded on to the boat. “Oh, well,” I sighed to another traveler, “I guess we’re all in the same boat!”
(pause for laughter)
+++ Anything fo (pause again while you control your continued giggles) Anything for a Picture +++
Outside of Luang Prabang, there is a waterfall, and some others at my guesthouse were rounding up people to go to it one day. I was skeptical. Don’t get me wrong, I now and forever love waterfalls, but in many places I’ve visited, locals have caught on that foreigners like waterfalls, and it seems every city, town and hamlet advertises a ‘must-see waterfall’ half of which aren’t much more impressive than the shower in the shared bath.
These falls, though, were magnificent! A multi-tiered and huge set of falls, Huang Xi really did qualify as a ‘must see.’ The turquoise pools of water were not only beautiful, but thoroughly refreshing, and the whole excursion was the perfect way to escape the heat. (April is the HOTTEST month of the year!). After climbing to the upper-most tier, and taking pictures frantically, some daring German decided to climb an overhanging branch, and jump into the pool below. I questioned the soundness of this idea, but since I had my camera in hand, decided it was my responsibility to capture the act on film, regardless of the outcome. The leap was successful and the guy turned out all right, at which point I realized I now had a picture of someone else taking the jump. Do I want to be an observer of life, or an active participant? Am I satisfied in the audience of life, or do I want to be performing on stage? yada, yada…handing my camera to a Danish gentleman standing by, I made my way to the tree. (for those of you who have been following along, I am insured again)
Having spent half my childhood in trees, I fancy myself a bit of a skilled climber and didn’t expect the climb up the tree to be a challenge. In the event, the climb was more difficult than the jump. The mossy, wet tree provided little traction, and the weak handholds crumbled with each touch. My mother will be particularly happy to know that during this most difficult stretch, was not the waiting pool of water, but the jagged rocks of the falls. Anyhoo, I inched my way out on the limb, stood up, let out a “BANZAI’ cry, and leapt into the pool below. (The jump, though a good 10-12 meters, was easy to make since a crowd was watching, and a camera was waiting, no time to waste thinking about how far below I would drop.) The jump was quite a rush and upon safely resurfacing, I was glad I had ‘taken the plunge,’ as it were. The Danish guy yelled that I’d have to do it again because he couldn’t get the shot. Funny, I thought. Not an original joke, but one that had to be said. Climbing out of the pool, I realized he was serious. A local Lao man (eager to see the silly foreigner hurl himself out of a tree) what been standing between the photographer and me, and wouldn’t get out of the way. “That’s okay. I made the jump and I’m satisfied with that. I did it for myself and I don’t need a picture to prove anything to anyone.” “Really?” “…no, not really.” and I made my way back to the tree.
By this time everyone seemed to be jumping on..er..off the bandwagon, so I had to wait for an New York girl I’d been traveling with to jump. As I said before, the climb was more challenging than the drop, but it wasn’t until I saw someone else do it that I thought “oh, my god! I did that?” and the shakes set in. Still, I did climb again, confirmed the cameraman was ready, and tempted fate again. Anything for a picture, eh?
So how does this little bit (or is it a piece?) finish? well, the pictures have since been developed, and for reasons I can only begin to explain, instead of a picture of my death-defying (or at least ‘great and agonizing pain and injury’-defying leap), I have a partial snapshot of a Danish man’s feet. Back to Luang Prabang for a 3rd shot? Not necessary, the picture I took of the guy who pioneered the jump looks enough like me that I s’pose I can just claim that it’s me. Who will ever know? oh, er…maybe you should forget I mentioned that last part.)
+++ It’s a Small World +++
Outside the small town Vang Vieng are numerous caves, and liking caves myself, I went out to go and see some. It wasn’t a long trek over the river and through the rice fields to the limestone cliffs, but it took me quite some time to get there, stopping every few steps to let out a series of expletives and curses (often involving some religious figure on a popsicle stick), totally unable to articulate with any grace and eloquence just how incredible and beautiful my surroundings were. I developed a routine which went as follows: come to dead, dramatic stop, say something along the lines of “Holy <female relative> <popular expletive> <first name of prominent religious deity’s son> <another expletive> <last name> on a <choice here: same expletive as the first, else use the British term ‘bloody’> Popsicle stick! <previously unused expletive>! <one more curse for good measure> This is so <insert all previously used, and a few new curses> beautiful!”, take out camera, take several pictures, realize what a waste it was, knowing my snapshots could not capture it all with any justice, put my camera away, pull it out again figuring I may as well have a few with me in the shot, put the camera on an abandoned hut, run out to a chosen spot, press the remote control, moments before it clicks, realize I’m probably a bit low in the picture, jump up into the air just as the shutters goes, laugh at what an idiot I am for taking such a lame photo, but immediately do it again, perhaps to do it better, put camera away, begin my walk again determined to get on to my destination, take a few steps, repeat routine.
In the midst of one of these sessions, I found an unopened bottle of drinking water in front of me. Still cold, I knew it must have been dropped by someone recently, so I picked it up, knowing I was bound to run into whomever it was who dropped it. Having long ago lost track of the hand-painted signs directing me to the caves, I continued my way, giving the roaming herd of water buffalo plenty of room. Everyone says they’re no so bright, but I decided to give them credit that one of these days they’re going to figure out that in such large numbers, they could easily overtake me and my water bottle.
At last, I saw two foreigners on mountain bikes. Figuring it likely that a bottle of water could fall unnoticed from one on a bike(and them being the only two foreigners around), I headed in their direction, thinking I had found the rightful owners (note job skill: problem-solving). Approaching the couple, I hoped they were thinking “Gee, I hope someone finds and returns our water bottle” and not “At last! Finally, we’re away from all those other cursed travelers. We are truly alone and…”
“Hey, are you by any chance missing a bottle of water?”
The girl responded affirmatively and was quite grateful (April is the HOTTEST month of the year!). She was very surprised and at my deducing it was theirs and returning it to them. I wasn’t so surprised by this (my brilliant mind making the solution to the’ Mystery of the Missing Water Bottle’ a matter of course), but I was surprised when the guy asked, “Did you teach English in Japan?”
James, had taught English in the town next to me. “It’s a small world” was the tune of the day, momentarily displacing Scorpion’s ‘Rhythm of Love’ (let us find together, the beat we’re looking for..)
+++ Wow! Beautiful! Number One!” +++
The three of us spent the morning hiking around the fields, exploring a number of caves and sweating more than I had previously imagined possible (April is the HOTTEST month of the year!). The views were stunning (I toned down my cursing commentary and made it suitable for family viewers, but we all suffered a similar fate, stopping every few paces to just stare about and comment on the land.) The caves, too, were spectacular, in their form, but also in a way that they’re just there. Of course, the locals have caught on, and there’s bound to be someone at every cave selling and entrance ticket, but then it’s up to you to just wander in to get lost/hurt/injured/dead on your own. It’s really a freedom that’s hard to come by in many countries these days. So we wandered, deep into the caves, again were in awe of our beautiful, though darker surroundings, and sweated profusely.
One cave, we did have a guide. In part because it’s so large (2-3 km; in wet season, it’s possible to swim inside), and also to point out all the beautiful formations. Now, caves round the world will often have some neat bits which resemble something else, and are kind of neat to see. This cave, too, had a ‘snake’s head’, ‘elephant’ and ‘flower’, for example. But they went a bit overboard, and we found ourselves stopping every two steps, as our guide pointed out another one. And as we went on, some of them took more stretches of the imagination, or just became absurd (and over hear is…er..a rabbit’s cheek! and look! a butterfly’s butt!). I admit I did think the ‘toilet bowl’ was amusing, and spot on, but others I would have been satisfied with the nameless, yet attractive formations.
And our guide, bless his heart, was able to direct us through all this with a very limited English vocabulary. At each stop, he would shine his light at the object of our attention, give it’s title (“donkey’s thumb!’) and enthusiastically say “Wow! Beautiful! Number One!” in such a way to not only make us believe it was actually one word, but also to impress upon us the joy and emotion we should be feeling at viewing such a thing. We would, generally, be quite amazed, but by the time it just began to sink in, our guide would be off with a “let’s go!” We did, however get a bit more out of the guide than the average foreigner, I’d imagine, as James, now teaching English outside of Bangkok, could speak some Thai (similar to Lao). I told him I was impressed with his Thai abilities, and he was equally impressed by ability to trek through the fields, climb rocks, and navigate the caves in my flip-flops. We all have our skills. (note job skill: able to successfully navigate a variety of fields with minimal support) Reaching our turn-around point (the cave continued on for another 2 km!), we reached our final ‘amazing formation.’ The guide, laughing, asked if I could identify the PHALLIC-looking formation in front of us. Gesturing to me and mine (a little too close for comfort, I dare say), he laughed, “and how about you?”
What could I say? “Wow! Beautiful! Number One!”
+++ Go with the Flow +++
Those of you who managed to read all my last update, will remember my tubing experience in Sumatra. In Vang Vieng, I once more hopped in a tube and rode downriver. Only in Laos, this was a totally different experience. First, there weren’t nearly as many Indonesians around. Second, unlike the wild, whitewater adventure of Sumatra, well, it’s dry season (April is also the HOTTEST month of the year!), so the river’s low, and very slow. So what took 5-10 minutes up the road by tuk-tuk, took 3 hours of drifting downriver. (Yes, that last sentence was a mess, what with the 2 ‘took’s and a ‘tuk-tuk’) Not that it wasn’t an unpleasant experience. While I would have enjoyed an adrenaline-rushing event (remember, I’m insured again), the slow drift downriver was a great way to sit back, relax and watch the world go by (Or perhaps it was watching me go by, I can’t really say). In many ways, tubing in Vang Vieng was much like Laos in general. It forces you to slow down and relax, and just enjoy what’s around you. Sure it’s possible to rush through the country, as I had originally intended to do, but I got a lot more out of it when I let myself drift on Laos time, soaking it all up. I’m sensing I’m about to relate all this to a way to live and enjoy life and greater and larger things, so I’d better wrap this up and just say I recommend everyone float down a river in an inner-tube. I also recommend sunscreen (youch!)
+++ Homecoming King +++
So, It’s May, and I’m in Bangkok, having just returned from 2 weeks in Laos. Why is this important? Because it’s not June (which it would have been had I stuck to an earlier plan keeping me another 2 weeks exploring Thailand and 30 days in Laos). Again, why is this important?
My plane arrives in L.A. May 28th.
But you’ll hear from me before then. Oh, yes, you will…
Gotta run. Perhaps because of my impending homecoming and my great expectations for the future, I’m reading Dickens’ novel of the same name (“Great Expectations,”‘ not “Impending Homecoming”), and I’ve just got to get back to it and see what the devil’s in store for Pip next…
Jay “Can someone pick me up at the airport?” Schneider
can anyone guess the song is stuck in my head now? Britney Spears’ “Ooops! I did it again.” Sorry for making it so long again, but the series is almost over, so enjoy it while you can.