Wanderlust

The Legendary Mulberry Millionaire

wandering_gypsy — Mon, 31 Dec 2007 07:49:00 GMT

Jim Thompson, an architect, an entrepreneur, an art-collector, a spy agent - his name evokes a sense of mystery and admiration. His dramatic disappearance in the jungles of Malaysia further strengthened this aura of suspense. My visit to the Jim Thompson house in Bangkok was an effort to get a glimpse of this legend, who has achieved an iconic status in Southeast Asia. I hoped to find some clues about this man through his much loved Thai teak house where he lived and entertained. Knowledgeable guides take you through this opulence and explain the significant points of the elegant yet understated style of the construction and the objet d'art of the Thompson collection. Being an architect, he had purchased six traditional Thai-style houses and brought them to the present location from various parts of Thailand. He personally prepared the original architectural drawings and foresaw the construction to its completion in 1959. The house on the khlong is now a museum and is one of the most beautiful sites you can visit in Bangkok today. Unlike many well known residences and museums, this house has a lived-in feel. With true appreciation and a connoisseur's eye, Thompson personally furnished the house with priceless pieces of Southeast Asian antiques that would have any art collector turn green with envy: The dining hall, with its mahjong table converted dining table, was especially fascinating, as it was here that Jim Thompson had entertained Thai and international guests, virtually a 'who's who' list, seven days a week. Jim Thompson was a savvy business man but it was his eyes for esthetics that made him realize the huge potential that awaited the glowing colors and nubbly texture of the Thai silks. He rounded up a group of Muslim (Cham) weavers in the Bangkok neighborhood of Bankrua, most of whom had taken up other trades, supplied them with the raw silk and dyes to turn out finished products on their crude home looms. He took 500 samples to New York, where the silk drew raves from designers, decorators and fashion editors including Vogue, and the rest is history. Thompson's books still sit on his bedside table, just as he left them on Good Friday, 1967. On that fateful day, the Thai Silk King vanished without a trace while vacationing in the Cameron Highlands of Malaysia. Massive manhunts were mounted to trace him with no results. The romantic in me like a particular theory that believes Jim Thompson simply ran away in order to start a new life elsewhere, which he had done in a far less dramatic fashion by abandoning America for Thailand decades before, and as he grew older he became more interested in the art of other Southeast Asian nations, so he might have made for one of them. And, his training in jungle survival skills may have made it possible for him to escape with the clothes on his back to somewhere around Vientiane or Rangoon, perhaps with some native lady on his arm. In any case, whether or not he survived his walk in the jungle, Jim Thompson has left behind a priceless legacy for the Thais: a pride in their craftsmanship, now famous around the world in flags of the shimmering silks that he made famous.

The Demon King

wandering_gypsy — Mon, 31 Dec 2007 07:37:00 GMT

I am greeted by his fearsome persona in the arrival lounge of Suvarnabhumi international airport. His blue green face, a snarling mouth, and curving tusk-like canine teeth gives me the creeps. I meet him everywhere in Thailand, most remarkably at Wat Phra Kaew, the Emerald Buddha temple, glowering from murals, and as the fierce guardian of the temple doors. And I recently found out about this strange character. He is Ravana, or Tosakanth in Thai, from the Indian epic Ramayana, written by sage Valmiki. The main protagonist of this epic is King Rama and his wife Sita and the antagonist, the dreaded evil personified, Ravana. The main theme is the victory of good over evil. The saga commences when besotted by Sita's beauty, Ravana abducts and whisks her away to his kingdom. Ravana or Tosakanth's weakness for beautiful women spelt his doom. Rama, in his effort to rescue his beloved, defeats and kills Ravana in a bloody battle. Ravana, to his credit, has many good points. He was benevolent and effective king of Lanka and it is said the poorest of houses had vessels of gold to eat and drink off. Amongst his many virtues, the foremost was his knowledge of sacred books, medicines and magic. He was considered as a reformer, revolutionary and just ruler who opposed the caste system. A great devotee of Shiva (Phra Isuan), his penances had borne many fruits. Ravana is depicted in art with up to ten heads, signifying that he had knowledge spanning all the ten directions. His ten heads also earned him the names "Dasamukha" (The ten-faced), "Dasagriva" (The ten-headed) and "Dasakanta" (Ten Throats). He is still revered in Sri Lanka as an icon of their independence from India! The Rama legend can be seen in wonderful paintings on temple walls, most famously at Wat Phra Kaeo or "Temple of the Emerald Buddha" on the grounds of the Grand Palace built by King Rama I in Bangkok. In the gallery surrounding the temple there are beautifully restored sections of mural paintings which depicts the entire story of the Ramayana. They were originally painted during the reign of King Rama I in the late 18th century and then renewed under later monarchs. In the Thai version, Ramakien, the essence is the same but there is a Thai element added to the story such as clothes, weapons, and elements of nature. Ramakien dates back to the 13th century and in the past 200 years, nine kings of Thailand have been named Rama, after the main protagonist King Rama. For 400 years the capital of Thailand was Ayutthaya (ayodhya), Rama's kingdom in the epic. Ramakien has appealed to Thai people over centuries making it the national epic. Many other Asian cultures have adapted the Ramayana, resulting in other national epics. Kakawin Rāmâyaṇa is an old Javanese rendering of the Sanskrit Ramayana from ninth century Indonesia. It is a faithful rendering of the Hindu epic with very little variation. Phra Lak Phra Lam is a Lao language version, whose title comes from Lakshmana, Rama's younger brother, and Rama. The story of Lakshmana and Rama is told as the previous life of the Buddha. In Hikayat Seri Rama of Malaysia, Dasharatha, Rama's father, is the great-grandson of the Prophet Adam and Ravana receives boons from Allah instead of Brahma. In its different hues and colors, however, the universal themes an d ideals of righteous behavior, loyalty to family and kingdom, the balancing of good and evil, self-sacrifice for the betterment of society, and morality remains the same. And as for Tosakanth, love him or hate him, without him Thai culture would not be the same.

Cabbages & Condoms

wandering_gypsy — Sun, 30 Dec 2007 09:46:00 GMT

Why Cabbage??? We all know it is an ordinary vegetable that can be boiled away to tasteless mulch. Well, unless it is dressed up as cabbage rolls in tons of sauce, I think cabbages can disappear from face of the earth and no one would notice. Wait… here in Thailand the cabbage is an everyday food. Until recently, something equally familiar to the Thais was a huge birth rate, and the proliferation of AIDS. Yes, the society was struggling to cope – if only condoms were as common as cabbages! Run by Thailand's Population and Community Development Association, its founder, former Thai senator Mechai Viravaidya, believes "birth control should be as cheap as cabbages”— hence, ‘Cabbages and Condoms’! Proceeds from the restaurant go towards birth control, AIDS awareness and various others projects. One must think that a restaurant with such a lofty theme surely would be boring. On the contrary, the C&C Chiang Rai is one of the best in the city. I was impressed by the décor, the nicely appointed large dining area and a live band. And of course there are condoms everywhere, in frames on the walls, and under glass table tops. So how is the food? It is simply YUMMY and one of the best in Chiang Rai city. The appetizers kai hor bai teoy (fried boneless chicken wrapped in pandan leaves with a dark sweet soy sauce for dipping), platter of spicy Northern Thailand sausages, deep fried pork rind with a fiery dipping sauce were delicious. The main course arrived dressed with amazing garnishes and nicely presented. The rich green curry with chicken was rightly spiced and well cooked. The Pork Curry (Kaeng Hung Ley Muo) was slightly watered down but good. The best dish of the day was the Seafood Soufflé - a heavenly concoction of squids and shrimps cooked with the flesh of tender coconut and served in the shell. The exceptional meal ended with the fried icecream - forget your calories intake chart and savor the tastes. What about the price? Unlike its expensive counterparts in Bangkok and Pattaya, C&C Chiang Rai caters to the local population and is very reasonably priced. Before I left, I bought tons of hilarious condom related gifts for family and friends - thoughtful New Year gifts.

Hill Tribe Trails

wandering_gypsy — Sun, 30 Dec 2007 09:33:00 GMT

Nestled in the lush, mountainous terrain, centuries removed from the frantic urban-mania of Bangkok and the country's crowded coastlines, Chiang Rai offers a glimpse of the country's true cultural origins. I was here to experience some of its Wild West feel and fascinating hill tribes. Realizing that it was worth doing a little research before deciding on a trek, I headed to the Hill Tribe Museum and Education Center in Chiang Rai. I met the Curator and Manager, Mr. Alberto de la Paz, who has been applauded by leading publications like The Times, New York Times and BBC for his dedication and obvious passion for the hill tribes. We went through the exhibits of hill-tribe agricultural techniques, models of their simple thatched dwellings, the striking costumes and explanations of traditional animist beliefs. The best choice for visitors would be three days of serious trek and home stay at the hill tribe villages. However, due to our tight schedule, Alberto suggested the one day tour offered by the PDA which included an hour of boat ride on Mae Kok River, 2 hours of elephant trek and most importantly, a visit to the hill tribe villages. Early next day we started our trip from the pier and boarded the multicoloured long tail boat for the trip upriver to Ban Raummit, a Karen village. The morning mist had begun to lift revealing the wilderness, distant forested hills and tall waving grasses on the river banks. We passed several men fishing rocks from the river to sell them in the city. The rest of the boat trip was uneventful. A murmur of excitement went through our group as we approached the pier of the Karen village. The sight of the cavorting elephants in the river and the camp was impressive. Once ashore, we were immediately besieged by the Karen villagers to buy some of their wares. I stopped at a tiny shop where a woman was working with multihued threads on her loom, making beautiful belts, purses and sarongs. After purchasing some of her creations, we headed towards the waiting elephants. Our mahout was a swash-buckling guy with a guerrilla style hat and poncho. I eyed the ominous looking dagger on his hip belt as I crawled into the seat on the elephant’s back. The elephant ride was a serious business. The village finally gave way to dense bamboo jungle and the elephant swayed side to side as it covered muddy trails, steep mountains and remote farmhouses. I noted with pleasure that our mahout controlled the giant with just a stick instead of the frequently used metal hook. I gripped the back of my chair while enjoying the breathtaking vistas. The raised bamboo houses had open windows and I could see Karen men and women, some dressed in traditional costumes, busy with their chores. We reached a Lahu village, where the elephants were fed and we waved goodbye to our mahout. Thankfully, my fears were unfounded as the mahout’s dagger had never left its sheath. Lahu women offered us refreshments and invited us to buy some of their handicraft. After some good-humored haggling, they went back to weaving on their long looms. We set out to explore the village and were greeted by a man who was carefully crafting a reed basket to hold his chickens. He explained, with the help of our tour guide Poo, that “Lahu” means hunter and they pride themselves on their trapping and hunting skills. Children gathered around us posing for photographs. It was time to depart for a 45 minutes trek to the next village. We trekked downhill and stopped to take pictures of the beautiful scenery, the Lahu spirit houses and passing villagers. We met some Japanese trekkers who informed us that we had missed the Swing festival the previous day. At the Doi Boa Viewpoint we appreciated the view of the valley below. We arrived at the Ban Yafu village and stopped for the much needed lunch break. After lunch we half heartedly followed our tour guide to the waiting songthaew for a ride to Huey Mae Sai Waterfall. The trail down to the waterfall was a relatively easy one that took us through the jungles straight to the thundering 20 metre high waterfall. After the reviving swim in the cool pool, we headed to an Akha village. Akha villages are quite easy to spot with a ceremonial swing placed at one of the highest points in their village. The spirit gates at the upper and lower ends of the village which, to the Akha, are very sacred, should never be touched. An elderly lady dressed in full traditional attire and her teeth permanently stained red from chewing betel nut, welcomed us into her yard. She then disappeared into a back room, returning with some jewelry she had been crafting, an offer I could not refuse. We were invited to one of the homes and offered pipes and tobacco. Another Akha woman gave us bracelets for good-luck and refused to accept payment. I hugged her and thanked her in my one-day Akha. Dusk was falling and it was time to leave. As we pulled out of the village, women and children gathered to smile and wave goodbyes. I waved back, marveling at the tenacity of these hill tribe people to maintain their unique culture and tradition in their adopted homeland.

Gallery: Pushkar Camel Fair

wandering_gypsy — Sun, 30 Dec 2007 05:49:00 GMT

A Camel Affair

Waah Chai

wandering_gypsy — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 21:18:00 GMT

The train grinds to a halt at the dusty railway station of Bhuj. I groan as I straighten my hurting body on the top sleeper. The trip had been long, bone jarring and uncomfortable. As I rub out the restless sleep from my puffy eyes, I hear the ubiquitous music heard all over India - Chaiiiiiii, chaiiiiiii, garram garrrram chaiiiiiii...

Chai is the common thread that runs from the length and breadth of India - Kashmir to Kanyakumari, Surat to Patna - “unity in diversity.” The whole country is dotted with numerous Chai stalls and from dawn to dusk, thousands of people converge into these stalls (think about the squares in Europe) – office goers, laborers, philosophers, poets, writers and occasional tourists. Anytime is an occasion to have a cup of Chai.

The subtle differences in Chai from different regions are amazing. In North India, the “Chai” is creamier, sweeter, and spiced with Cardamom, ginger, cinnamon or pepper – the result, the delicious “Masala” Chai to warm one’s cockles on a cold winter morning. In the East, “Cha” is served in a Kullhar or Mutka, tiny clay cups, which give the Chai a distinct earthy flavor - an experience to die for, whilst you sit and enjoy the fragrant breeze from the endless green rice fields. Down south, “Chaiya” is served in shot glasses. Your jaws drop as you watch the “Chaiya Master” beat up a creamy froth (did the Italians steal this idea for their equally delicious cappuccino?) by pouring the tea energetically back and forth between two glasses – the result of this rhythm is a tiny shot glass of purely delicious frothy “Chaiya”! The Indian Chai experience is not complete without the “Irani Chai”, the recipe that was imported by the Iranians living in Hyderabad, the “high tech” city in South India. The tea is distinctly Iranian (the tea leaves are processed in a different way) but the Indians have heartily adopted this foreigner as their own.

The crowning glory of Indian tea experience is the Kashmiri tea Kahva, a green tea infused with crushed almonds, green cardamom, cinnamon and strands of saffron. This aromatic tea becomes an exhilarating experience when sipped aboard the Shikara’s (the local wooden boats) elaborately carved wooden verandas while drifting across a crystal clear lake high in the Himalayan Mountains.

I order for a cup of chai and wait expectantly. The chai-wallah pours out a steaming cup of the delicious chai and I hand him five rupees. He grins happily as I sip the hot concoction with a satisfied smile on my face. The bone breaking journey is just a faint memory.

Mystical Ganges

wandering_gypsy — Fri, 14 Dec 2007 21:14:00 GMT

My six months of travel in India is culminating with a visit to the holiest cities – Varanasi, the city of spiritual light. The “holy” status is conferred upon this city, along with Benares, Kashi and Rishikesh, due to the fact that the river Ganges flows through them.

Many tales are associated with the Ganga and the exalted position she holds in Hindu and Buddhist ethos. According to one legend, Goddess Ganga descended from heaven in response to the prayers of King Bhagiratha, whose ancestors were reduced to ashes by the curse of Sage Kapila. Lord Shiva agrees to break Ganga’s fall to earth by taking her on his head and safely knotting her in his matted hair. This is the presumed site of the present-day temple at Gangotri. Bhagiratha then led the way on horse back and the river followed. Ganga reached the spot where the ashes lay, liberating Bhagiratha’s ancestors with her magical waters. This is the Sagar Island of today, where the Ganges flows into the Bay of Bengal

Millions of devout Hindus throng to Varanasi to bathe in the Ganges, believed to wash away one’s sins and ensure a smooth journey heavenward towards moksha or nirvana, attainment of a state of eternal existence beyond the cosmos.

The riverbank or Ghats are a sight to behold with saffron robed swamis (holy men), Chillum smoking sadhus, devotees, flower sellers, half naked children and herds of cows wearing haughty expressions (I assume due to their “sacred mother” status). There are many ghats along the river, the most famous being Dashashwamedh Ghat and Assi Ghat.

Along with a handful of tourists, I embark on an early morning boat ride across the river to watch the life around the ghats stir to life at 3:00 am. Hundreds of devotees take the early morning dip and offer ablutions to Surya (Sun), sweet chants floats through the air, and we all fall silent, engrossed in our own thoughts as we soak up the peace, devotion and sanctity of the scenery. Early morning is the best time to see the Pandits preparing the puja, the sacred offering to the river, the chandals, lowest in the caste system, preparing the funeral pyre later to be consigned to the holy river. Children splash in the almost ashy water and women gossip while washing their load of clothes, oblivious to the ghoulish preparations nearby.

As night falls the famous Vishwanth temple reverberates with the sacred hymns and temple bells. Little oil lamps floats on the inky waters of Ganges as the sounds of arti, the sacred chant, echoes through the still night. The crowd, dust, polluted river, pesky beggars, bloated bodies, half burnt funeral pyres that had clawed on my western sensibilities are now a distant memory as I stare hypnotized at the little oil lamps balanced precariously on wide lotus leaves, floating merrily heavenwards.