Three months of rigorous physical therapy during a summer of exhausting humidity, sweltering heat, and heavy downpours was a poor substitute for the summer adventure that Leah and I originally plotted together at the kitchen counter one year ago.
We imagined Airstreaming up to Quebec to play in Saguenay Fjord National Park and be entertained by French Canadians for a month or so.
Of course, nothing went as planned. My shoulder surgery and subsequent physical therapy replaced our summer trip to the North Country.
But putting in the hard work also guaranteed us a summer redo Down Under, with a chance to celebrate Hanukkah in New Zealand and Christmas Day in Melbourne.
It was also a good excuse for a new camera… system, unlike last year’s trip to Southeast Asia, where I relied exclusively on my Samsung Galaxy S23 Ultra for images and video.
But for a trip to my 7th recorded continent, I yearned to compose through a viewfinder again. Ultimately, I thought a mirrorless compact camera’s flexibility and versatility could empower me to take bigger chances and create better photographs.
So, I bought a Fujifilm X-E5.
It may have been a bit impulsive, buying before trying, but Fuji’s model was brand new, very popular and not widely available. Camera exchanges were quickly selling out limited inventory across the globe, despite the high price, plus the tariff surcharge. (Yes, the tariff/tax is passed on to consumers!) I was betting on the buzz and positive reviews, and went all-in.
Outfitted with Fuji XF 16-50mm f/2.8-4.8 and Fuji XF 70-300mm f/4-5.6., I now had a wide and long zoom for a variety of coverage.
It was also a light-weight travel kit designed to reduce the camera strap impression across my newly, reassembled rotator cuff.
It would be a glorious second-chance summer.
Leah and I figured on an extra day in Aukland to cover our cancellation-du-jour asses from airline exposure, and to bolster our recovery from a lost day and a 20-hour trip…
Although our business class cocoons…
offered legitimate restorative properties.
Checking into the Grand by SkyCity put us smack dab in the center of Auckland’s bustling entertainment and casino complex, where the Sky Tower’s the limit.
Our 220-meter ascent to the 60th floor observation deck gave us distant perspective…
and telephoto detail with my new Fuji kit…
With time to burn, we set our sights on the quaint town of Devonport, one of 53 dormant volcanic centers surrounding Auckland.
Christmas was on full display in the city plazas…
as we strolled to Queens Wharf to catch our ferry across Stanley Bay.
However, the crimson blossoms from the Pōhutukawa trees (aka New Zealand Christmas tree) along Devonport’s park path easily enhanced the holiday vibe.
We hiked to Mount Victoria (Takarunga), Devonport’s highest point atop a WWII bunker–currently the local folk music center–that breathes through its field of mushroom ventilation caps,
where our climb was rewarded with an exquisite view of the city.
Tomorrow, our Viking cruise extension starts in earnest, with a trip to Waiheke Island.
Ordinarily, I’d be blogging about my summer road trip to Quebec’s National Parks, with occasional lookbacks to our winter adventures in Vietnam. But circumstances have changed, and future long-distance travel has been placed on hold until October.
Instead, I’ll be introducing a new cycle of posts reflecting my road to recovery after emergency rotator cuff surgery on my right shoulder. And, I’m using a photo of a famous location in Door County taken 6 summers ago, which may seem like a metaphorical cliche, but it still rings true in consideration of my latest debacle.
Let me explain.
About 35 years ago, I joined a neighborhood softball league as a catcher. During a particularly fateful game near the end of our schedule, a batter hit a routine flyball to shallow left field with a runner on third and one out. The outfielder made the routine catch, setting up the showdown at home plate.
The runner on third sprinted home with “Pete Rose” intentions. The throw came in hard and accurate. I covered the plate in anticipation of the play–waiting for the ball while preparing for impact–and ready for the tag.
But the runner arrived just before the ball. He came in fast and hard, battering the right side of my body.
Safe!
But not for me!
My shoulder ached for the next few months and eventually healed itself without medical intervention… or so, I thought.
What I didn’t know was that the torn labrum and the eventual arthritis in my right shoulder would become my personal weather barometer for the next three decades.
But I lived with it. I found that my old injury rarely interfered with daily life or staying active. Cycling, hiking, and paddling had little effect… until I took up pickleball.
Yes, Leah and I got caught up in the sensation–3 times a week. Because we both played tennis in a past life, we quickly improved our self-assessed ranking from 2.5 to 3.0 during our first year of play.
Over time, increased ability and better competition provided a better workout, but also contributed to greater wear and tear on my right arm. It began aching and now required a visit to an orthopod.
After an x-ray, the doc’s preliminary diagnosis of bursitis warranted a steroid injection which provided relief for only a couple of days. That’s when I knew it was time for an MRI and a follow-up with the orthopod.
But not before another Monday of morning matches… which was my ultimate undoing. While playing a doubles match, I reached for an overhead slam. Upon contact, I immediately felt and heard a pop in my shoulder accompanied by a stabbing pain. I shook it off and resumed play for the next hour.
Big mistake!
The following day, I was incapacitated and in constant pain, requiring another trip to the orthopod and a second MRI.
My radiology report revealed a much more serious injury than earlier: a torn rotator cuff, bone spurs, and extreme inflammation surrounding the joint and capsule. Only arthroscopic surgery could save me now!
But not before a brief visit to northern New Jersey to witness Lucy, Leah’s granddaughter,
accept her diploma from Pascack Valley High School.
In addition to celebrating with family,
there was also a hike around Rockland Lake,
and a visit to the Intrepid Museum…
in NYC.
After a disastrous flight home on United (a 5-hr delay AND lost luggage), surgery was performed early next morning.
According to the surgical center, the procedure was unremarkable. My doctor repaired the rotator cuff and addressed the biceps tendinosis; he shaved the outer end of my collarbone and vacuumed the bone spurs from the AC joint; and finally, he eased the impingement by performing a subacromial decompression with acromioplasty.
After an hour in recovery, I was released to Leah, wearing a shoulder immobilizer that would soon become my arch nemesis.
Interestingly, Leah insists that despite my stupor, I was largely responsible for composing this photo.
The first couple of days were a blur–existing in and out of a drugged sleep–thanks to an oxy-cocktail and a nerve block that slowly wore off after 36 hours.
However, Hour-37 became a painful reminder that my road to recovery would be a litmus test for controlling my anxiety, because at this moment, my life feels like I’m trying to get comfortable in an economy airline seat for a 6-week flight to Normaltown.
Of all the temples in Cambodia—somewhere between 4,000 and 6,600, depending on the cultural authority—Ta Prohm, located within Angkor Archaeological Park, remains a must-see because of its striking temple remains and captivating narrative.
At the ruinous site of Ta Prohm,
I encountered an otherworldly standoff between human ingenuity and nature’s relentless advance. It’s not merely a structure; it’s a testament to history, where the surrounding jungle advances, progressively reclaiming the landscape.
Here, a vast root system appears to strangle the West Gopura–a vivid illustration of nature’s power interwoven with human craftsmanship.
Myth and stone intertwine, as a patina of multi-colored lichen cloaks the bas-relief stonework depicting meditating monks and temple guardians in serene poses.
The gigantic roots of the silk-cotton, gold apple, and strangler fig trees invade the ancient walls and terraces to create a visually stunning tableau.
The trees seemingly communicate with the stone, highlighting both the beauty and fragility of the monument’s existence.
Constructed during the late 12th and early 13th centuries in the local Bayon style—an intricately decorated form of Khmer architecture—Ta Prohm served as a monastery and university for Mahayana Buddhists, offering spiritual guidance and education in a time where knowledge was deeply intertwined with faith.
Following the fall of the Khmer Empire in the 15th century, the complex fell into neglect and was eventually abandoned, allowing the encroaching jungle to seize control, transforming the area into a site of haunting beauty.
Today, various restoration attempts have stabilized the environment, courtesy of the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI),
which has been collaborating on the temple’s restoration with Cambodia’s APSARA National Authority since 2003.
Restoration efforts to preserve the temple’s original structure include replacing damaged stones, supporting entries, and strengthening foundations to withstand natural elements like heavy rains.
While archaeologists and craftsmen work to protect the temple from potential damages, they are also aware that Ta Prohm’s‘condition of apparent neglect’contributes to its global reputation, as evidenced in the action film, Laura Croft: Tomb Raider.
This balance creates an enchanting duality: the remarkable presence of both human history and the natural world,
coexisting in a state of beautiful decay.
Ta Prohm stands as a poignant reminder of the passage of time, notwithstanding the scrollwork of a stegosaurus carving on a terrace wall that has confounded scholars for centuries.
Together with Angkor Wat, Ta Prohm represents an enduring symbol of the Khmer Empire’s remarkable cultural and architectural grandeur. The site is among Cambodia’s most visited destinations, preserved for tourists who come to witness and contemplate the relentless power of nature in its interplay with human achievement.
Siem Reap Province, located in northwestern Cambodia, possesses significant cultural, religious, and symbolic value, and is also renowned for its architectural, archaeological, and artistic importance. Furthermore, Siem Reap is home to Angkor Archaeological Park, the world’s largest religious monument complex and the cornerstone of Cambodia’s tourism sector.
Our O.A.T. group overlanded from Phnom Penh to Siem Reap with a stopover at the ancient Kampong Kdei Bridge, constructed in the 12th century during the reign of King Jayavarman VII.
The bridge is a testament to the engineers who designed the 87m river span with 21 corbelled arches of laterite, making it the longest structure of its kind in the world.
Nine-headed nagas–whose bodies form a continuous balustrade alongside the roadbed–welcome only pedestrians and cycles on the bridge because of weight restrictions.
While admiring the scenery, I paused a moment to consider that Leah and I were walking the same trail as the Chinese merchants who traded along the Maritime Silk Road nearly a millennium ago. Back then, it was a 2-day trek through the lowlands to reach Angkor Wat.
But not for us; we stepped out of our air-conditioned coach the following morning, well before the crowds, to cross a moat symbolizing the cosmic ocean in Hindu cosmology.
While getting our bearings, our guide Seong, a native of Siem Reap revealed Cambodia’s worst kept secret: by arriving at Angkor Wat’s Death Gopura (East Gate), we were avoiding the popular western gateway with five times the tourists.
The cloud cover flattened the morning light on our approach down the expansive causeway. It was the best time for photographing Angkor. Eventually, we reached a break in the trees, perfectly framing the famed lotus tower of this Khmer masterpiece. It was reminiscent of the thrill I felt after emerging from the slot canyon in Jordan and peeking at Petra for the first time at first light.
Much has been written about Angkor Wat:
About its monumental size,
spanning 402 acres,
or 4 times the size of Vatican City;
It’s intricate bas-relief carvings throughout the temples and galleries;
Its historical significance, showcasing Khmer mythology and history etched into laterite stone;
Churning of the Sea of Milk
Heaven and Hell
Military Parade of Kink Suryavarman II
Its religious significance–originally constructed in the 12th century as a Hindu temple dedicated to Vishnu but converted to a Theravadin Buddhist temple during the 15tth century to reflect the shift in Cambodia’s spiritual landscape;
Hindu GoddessBuddha seated on Mucilinda, King of the Serpents
And its architectural accomplishment–a profound reflection of Hindu cosmology, particularly the concept of Mount Meru, regarded as the mythical abode of the deities. The central tower of Angkor Wat epitomizes the summit of Mount Meru, while the adjacent smaller towers signify the mountain’s subordinate peaks. The moat and the rectangular outer wall delineate the oceans and the boundaries of the world, respectively.
Restoration and maintenance have become routine endeavors in Angkor, which fell into neglect following the capital’s relocation to Phnom Penh in 1434. The site garnered renewed attention after being rediscovered by French naturalist Henri Mouhot in 1858.
An international task force supported by Japan, India, France, South Korea, and other contributing nations have collaborated with APSARA National Authority, the Cambodian government agency responsible for Angkor’s ongoing preservation and management, to address the extensive neglect and restore the temple to World Heritage status.
Ceiling before repairCeiling after repair
Recently, new risers have been completed by the Korea Heritage Agency…
giving access to the Bakan (central sanctuary),
which supports the amazing quincunx of towers,
offering amazing views,
and providing sanctuary for a rare wooden Buddha sculpture whose head remains intact,
unlike most of the other Buddhas who fell victim to so many marauders over the centuries.
But amidst the vastness and splendor surrounding us, it was the people donning their Sunday best who truly captured my attention with their warmth and spirit.
often posing by the Reflecting Pool for the quintessential photograph, or so I thought.
Unfortunately, the wind kicked up, causing the pool to ripple ever so slightly and affect my mirrored imagery.
However, by returning the following day for a sunset farewell to Angkor, I believe I captured the iconic shot that characterizes Cambodia’s cultural landscape.
The experience not only fulfilled a bucket-listed destination but deepened my appreciation for the rich heritage of Cambodia, reminding me that some locations leave an indelible mark on our souls.
Lao People’s Democratic Republic is a poor country by any measure. According to the International Monetary Fund, Laos ranks eighth among 11 ASEAN nations in GDP per capita, with an annual income of $2,000. That’s a $1 per hour!
There are many contributing factors to Laotian poverty:
As the only landlocked country in Southeast Asia, Laos experiences significant logistical challenges due to its lack of direct sea access, which raises transportation costs and hampers trade competitiveness. Additionally, the mountainous terrain and dense forests hinder infrastructure development and access to rural areas, exacerbating poverty rates.
Laos could benefit from a more robust power grid, a reliable communication network, and improved sanitation system to bolster economic activity and improve the quality of life.
Inadequate infrastructure is a major barrier to economic development in Laos. The country’s transportation system is poorly developed, with few roads, no national railway, and a heavy reliance on unreliable river transport. This lack of connectivity restricts the movement of goods, people, and services, particularly in rural areas.
However, China saw an opportunity to elevate its status as top trading partner in 2024, surpassing Thailand with bilateral trade totaling $8.23 billion USD. Also notable, Chinese investment in Laos has expanded steadily since the Lao government introduced policies to promote trade and investment. Since 1989, China has funded 927 projects worth more than $18 billion USD, making it the largest investor in Laos out of 53 countries and regions.
At a cost of $6 billion USD, the Laos–China railway is one investment that’s poised to yield future benefits as a key developmental project in Laos’s national goal to become a “land-linked” economy.
Opened in December 2021, the new high-speed railway snipped 6 hours off the traditional 8-hour journey from Luang Prabang to Vientiane.
Designed with a fusion of traditional Lao stylings and modern flourishes,
the station hall in Luang Prabang can accommodate 1,200 travelers, although the station was relatively empty while we waited for our departure to Vientiane, the capital and largest city of Laos, and the country’s economic nerve center.
Two hours later, we are admiring lush palaces,
ornate Buddhist temples that bear witness to Laos’s rich cultural heritage,
and imposing government landmarks,
including the Patuxay (Victory Monument), a downtown landmark built between 1957 and 1968 to honor the brave Laotian soldiers who fought against French colonialism, ultimately paving the way for the nation’s full independence in 1953.
With a wink and a nod toward French colonial architecture, the monument is patterned after the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, and features distinctive, mythological creatures such as the kinnari–part human, part bird–inside the arch.
And the adjacent Patuxay Fountain with dancing water becomes the perfect nighttime complement.
But the jury is still out on the local impact of Chinese investments in Laos and whether the bolstered economy has trickled down to its 7.87 million inhabitants. By the numbers, it’s far from a quick fix, as Laos’s predominant unskilled labor market has limited ability to productively absorb China’s investment, creating a debt crisis that appears insoluble.
According to the United Nations, most of the wealth is concentrated in the Vientiane region, where only about 10 percent of the population lives. This disparity is striking, as the top fifth of population possesses 44% of the country’s wealth, while those at the bottom fifth possess only 8%. Vientiane presents a stark divergence from the economic hardships prevalent in the rest of the country. While urbanites may enjoy satellite TV and lavish meals at fancy restaurants, peasants in rural parts can go hungry, particularly if climate affects their crops or fishing prospects.
To exacerbate the situation, Laos holds the tragic distinction of being the most bombed nation in history due to the 2nd Indochina War (Vietnam War). Between 1964 and 1973, the United States dropped over 2 million tons of munitions (270 million cluster bombs) across Laos during 580,000 bombing missions–much of it focused on the Ho Chi Minh Trail that paralleled the Vietnamese border.
According to the National Regulatory Authority for UXO/Mine Action Sector, an estimated 80 million unexploded devices still litter the country, threatening lives and livelihoods. Since 1964, nearly 51,000 people have been killed or injured, with an average of 100 victims losing their lives each year.
Children often mistake remnant cluster bombs for playthings, leading to 40% of bomb-related fatalities involving minors. Consequently, with 80% of Laotians relying on their land for sustenance, individuals face the dire choice of risking their lives so they may tend fields dangerously littered with unexploded ordnance.
The LAO PDR government has set a bold target to remove all unexploded ordnance by 2030, recognizing the significant threat these remnants of conflict pose to the safety and development of its communities.
To help fulfill this pressing ambition, the government has received invaluable support from numerous countries (South Korea, United Kingdom, Japan, Russia, Norway, and United States) and international organizations–all committed to providing the necessary resources, expertise, and technology to ensure a comprehensive and effective clearance operation …until now!
In 2016, President Obama committed $90 million USD on clearing its UXO in Laos, in addition to the $100 million the United States had spent in the previous 20 years, citing a “moral obligation to help Laos heal.” Funding for the effort also continued under President Biden’s watch. All told, the U.S. Bureau of Political-Military Affairs reported a $391 million investment since 1995, working with The Halo Trust, and Mines Advisory Group (MAG).
The U.S. Bureau states:
This life-saving work is making more land safe for agriculture, infrastructure, and tourism, and driving critical economic development across Laos. From FY 2021 through FY 2023, United States support to the UXO program in Laos has achieved the following results:
Cleared UXO from more than 108 million square meters of land (26,700 acres) across Laos;
Removed and destroyed more than 155,600 pieces of UXO and 116 landmines;
Educated over 270,000 Lao PDR citizens about the risk of explosive hazards in their communities; and
Provided medical assistance to 90 citizens who were victims of UXO accidents.
Additionally, the Cooperative Orthotic and Prosthetic Enterprise (COPE), a locally run, non-profit organization supports injured civilians by providing prostheses and physical rehabilitation at no cost.
However, the commendable efforts of The Halo Trust, MAG, and COPE have been unceremoniously halted by President Trump, who has recklessly axed all funding to USAID (United States Agency for International Development) programs. This betrayal has robbed UXO survivors, war victims, and individuals with disabilities of crucial support they desperately need to reclaim their lives and dignity.
USAID once played a crucial role in U.S. foreign policy, using soft power to promote global development, democracy, and diplomacy. Its closure marks a significant shift, raising concerns about America’s reduced influence, as China and Russia expand their aid programs to fill the vacuum.
It’s crystal clear that funding to USAID must be restored. These collaborative efforts highlight the importance of international solidarity in addressing such a critical humanitarian issue, paving the way for a more peaceful future in Laos.
Visiting the World Heritage city of Luang Prabang was an enlightening adventure, given its rich history, its cultural gems, and its natural wonders that draw travelers from around the globe. The vibrant blend of ancient temples and French colonial architecture creates a stunning backdrop for exploration, inviting visitors to wander through its charming streets. With so much to explore, from the serene banks of the Mekong River to the bustling local markets filled with handmade crafts, it’s little wonder why our three days went by so quickly, while only scratching the surface of so many not-to-be-missed activities.
We toured the ancient capital’s Royal Palace-turned-museum …
with its purpose-built shrine housing the golden Phra Bang (translates to “delicate Buddha”), created in Sri Lanka between the 1st and 9th century, and worshipped in Luang Prabang since 1359 as the nation’s most sacred symbol.
We trekked through Kuang Si Waterfall Park,
featuring a 165 ft drop …
feeding terraced plunge pools of milky green water,
and a rescue sanctuary for black Moon bears and Malayan Sun bears.
After a full day of sightseeing, many in our tour group sought respite at our hotel, the Muang Thong.
However, Leah and I enjoyed a 60-minute, aromatherapeutic couples massage for $34 at M.K. Wellness Centre only steps from our hotel,
followed by a stroll to a nearby hotel …
where an acre of tropical gardens is thoroughly hidden from the street,
protecting three UNESCO-classified lily ponds …
amid an oasis of orchids …
along a mahogany-clad boardwalk.
Lush flora surrounds the property and covers nearly every surface,
including the living walls.
It was the perfect location to share a special dinner with fellow OATers at the hotel’s on-site restaurant, Manda de Laos,
featuring traditional Lao flavors that had us grinning ear to ear,
and energized to continue our journey to Vientiane the following day.
Overseas Adventure Travel, a familiar name in international group tourism, has a recognized history of offering an array of immersive tours that not only prioritize cultural engagement but also emphasize sustainability while remaining affordable for travelers. Their unique approach allows adventurers to connect deeply with diverse populations and local traditions, fostering genuine interactions.
In alignment with this mission, their charitable partner, Grand Circle Foundation has made a profound commitment to uplift and support the communities they visit around the world. This includes providing essential services in areas such as education, access to clean water, and leadership training, ensuring that the benefits of tourism extend far beyond the travelers themselves.
Since 1992, O.A.T.’s active participation in conservation initiatives aimed at protecting natural ecosystems and preserving cultural traditions has created a positive and lasting impact in every location they’ve ventured into, thereby enriching visitors and communities alike.
We were about to experience this, first-hand.
Our Ancient Kingdom itinerary carved out a few days to explore the ancient capital and UNESCO World Heritage site of Luang Prabang and its ethnic surroundings.
Leah and I got our bearings during our group’s late-day orientation walk through the historic district, where we admired Wat Sensoukharam,
built in 1718 during the reign of King Kitsarath, and restored to its current state in 1957.
Also known as Wat Sen, the temple is believed to have been built using 100,000 stones from the Mekong River, giving the temple its name, roughly translating to Temple of 100,000 Treasures.
With the sun setting on the Mekong,
and commuter traffic saturating Sakkaline Street,
the sidewalk eateries busily prepped for dinnertime crowds.
Down the road, merchants appointed their stalls with purses, pottery and paintings before the weekend procession to the night market, where family and friends flocked for a social evening.
The following morning, we scrambled into jumbos,
and rode to the Royal Pier,
where we boarded a traditional wooden boat that transported us upriver to a nearby Buddhist temple on the western bank.
We roamed the modest temple grounds, surrounded by ramshackle monastery dorms,
and temple buildings that had long forsaken its gold leaf …
for peeling paint.
Just beyond the temple walls, a steady show of curious children received us,
acting as welcome ambassadors to Mouangkham Village,
an O.A.T.-supported community that was eager to share its hospitality.
The villagers have banded together to literally sustain themselves in a grass roots business by producing khai paen, a dried, river weed delicacy for wholesale food markets.
We observed a demonstration: from washing and rinsing,
to beating the weed into submission, until it’s been reduced to a fine green veneer of fiber.
It didn’t look overly complicated, requiring just enough finesse to master the battering. Only a scattering of thinly sliced tomatoes, shredded garlic and a sprinkle of sesame seeds was needed to complete the process.
My best effort was donated to the local economy.
As a cottage industry, it may not seem like much, but it’s enough to provide for toddler high-tech.
The following day, we boarded a bus to Mouang Khai Village for A Day in the Life experience among Lao, Khmu and Hmong people, who share humble homesteads,
but celebrate a rich cultural heritage, like playing the qeej (a reeded bamboo instrument) during a teenage courtship dance.
The village chief hosted a traditional Lao lunch, cooked by us with appropriate guidance…
but the highlight of the day was attending primary school with a dozen youngsters at their Grand Circle Foundation-funded, one-room schoolhouse, where we were exuberantly serenaded,
while the older children…
looked after the younger children.
After a special presentation to the village teacher of 15 years,
we were escorted back to our bus.
It was a special day-in-the-life.
By reaching out and connecting with communities around the world, we learn to appreciate firsthand, not only our diversity, but our commonality — and the understanding we gain can be life-changing.
While sifting through hundreds of photographs taken during a recent tour of Southeast Asia (see past posts), I weeded out a wave of watercraft shots, and thought a maritime montage of nautical notions would make the perfect post.
During our visit to Kanchanaburi, Leah and I enjoyed time on the River Kwai in a traditional long-boat…
giving us splendid views along the water,
and a glimpse of river-lounging for well-heeled tourists:
But it wasn’t until we returned to Bangkok’s Chao Phraya that we gained a greater appreciation of the river’s transportation network:
of river buses, cross-river ferries, water taxis, and sunset party boats.
On another occasion, we boarded a long tail to cruise upriver on the Chao Phraya,
taking in the sites of the ancient capital of Ayutthaya…
along the waterfront.
But the mighty Mekong is Southeast Asia’s “Mother of all Rivers” and most significant waterway. It winds its way from the Tibetan Plains to the South China Sea, running through Myanmar, Laos, Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam, making it the region’s longest river at nearly 3,000 miles.
The Mekong is also the most productive river on the planet–boasting the world’s largest inland fishery–
which accounts for up to 25% of the global freshwater catch while providing livelihoods for 90 million people,
and supporting 54,000 sq mi of rice crops.
While touring upper Chiang Rai, Leah and I were hypnotized watching the confluence of Myanmar’s Roak River flowing into the Mekong–
separating Thailand and Laos to form the Golden Triangle.
But it wasn’t until our visit to Luang Prabang, Laos that we caught a second look at the Mekong–this time during golden hour–
which set the stage for our cruise the following day on a traditional wooden boat.
We motored slowly upriver to where the Mekong meets the Nam Ou River at Ban Pak Ou,
and disembarked directly across from the village…
to explore the Pak Ou Caves–Tham Ting and Tham Theung–located on the west bank of the Mekong River.
The first Lao people arrived at Ban Pak Ou from South China during the 8th century. They brought a strong belief in spirits and a profound respect for all things nature. It was an animistic religion known as Ban Phi.
The villagers believed that the caves were enchanted with river spirits, and they performed periodic blood sacrifices for prosperity and protection, but by the 16th century, Buddhism had been adopted by the royal families of Lao, who offered their patronage until the last days of the monarchy in 1975.
While Buddhism remains a unifying feature of Lao culture, animistic rituals continue to thrive and have been seamlessly integrated into Buddhist ceremonies, allowing Shamans and monks to symbiotically tend to the spiritual needs of their worshippers.
These days, the caves are a well-known repository for over 4,000 miniature Buddha sculptures, mostly old or disfigured impressions dating from the 18th century.
We were reacquainted with the Mekong during our stay in Phnom Penh, where we enjoyed a delightful sunset cruise on the river,
with all the beer we wanted!
The ever-shifting city skyline…
stands in stark contrast with Akreiy Ksatr Village on the opposite bank.
But a new ferry station supports continued growth along the river in every sector,
making Cambodia an emerging economic engine among ASEAN nations.
Lastly, during our visit to Vietnam, Leah and I traversed the Mekong Delta on a chartered riverboat.
As we navigated inside a shallow tributary, my mind quickly turned to Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness,” with haunting visions of Marlow’s journey on the Congo River.
Initially, our captain wondered if the incoming tide would lift our boat over the mud, unlike other sidelined sailors,
as we managed to crawl through the middle of the passage at low tide.
Eventually, we exchanged our boat for an excursion by sampan,
until we reached our next location,
where Siamese crocodiles are on the menu and not on the Mekong, thankfully!
There were many other water activities throughout our tour, yet nothing prepared us for a day on Tonlé Sap, where we observed Cambodians living on the water, full-time.
After Japan entered the 2nd World War at the end of 1941, their forces quickly overran most of Southeast Asia. However, by summer 1942, supply lines to Burma and Thailand were faltering after Japanese naval strength was compromised in the Battles of the Coral Sea and Midway.
To ensure a secure distribution channel in the region, the Japanese military built a single line railway to link existing railheads between Burma (now Myanmar) and Thailand.
By commanding a forced-labor construction brigade of 60,000 Allied POWs and 200,000 Burmese, Malayan and Thai civilians (Romusha) who toiled along the route (from Thanbyuzayat in the west to Nong Pladuk in the east), Japanese military eventually completed the 415 km rail line in October 1943, but not without considerable neglect and harm to their captors and conscripts.
At first, work at the termini progressed quickly across flat, lightly vegetated land. But as terrain turned to rocky jungle, and monsoons turned the ground to mud, the work became difficult, causing the project to stall multiple times–which intensified Japan’s desperation to finish the line with little regard for human life.
One of the most challenging excavations required the construction of many large embankments, as the railway crossed the relatively flat high ground towards the steep valley wall to the north.
Crew survivors called it Hellfire Pass (Konyu), recalling the horrid conditions of the cutting and how much the work scene resembled a living hell when illuminated by fire.
All of the grueling work was done without the aid of reliable mechanical equipment. Instead, the most primitive of hand tools were used to drill holes for the explosives used in blasting the rock and removing the debris.
It took 12 weeks of round-the-clock shifts to complete this section of the roadbed, which resulted in a great loss of life. Sixty-nine men were beaten to death by Japanese guards, and countless others died from cholera, dysentery, starvation, and exhaustion–all of which is well documented at the Interpretive Center’s exhibition hall,
and memorial trail built and managed by the Australian government.
Construction brigades completed the 415 km railroad in October 1943. Unfortunately, the project cost the lives of approximately 15,000 POWs and 100,000 Romusha from disease, starvation, exhaustion and mistreatment. Their sacrifice was commemorated by a granite block placed at the track.
Eighty km south of Hellfire Pass, the railroad crosses the River Kwai in the town of Kanchanaburi–site of the work camp where all prisoners and laborers were processed.
The bridge is primarily remembered because of its portrayal in the 1957 film The Bridge on the River Kwai, which depicts the harsh conditions and forced labor endured by Allied POWs, making it a powerful symbol of the brutality of war and the sacrifices made by captives.
Nowadays, the bridge can be crossed on foot or with a small tourist train that runs back and forth.
The Kanchanaburi War Cemetary, just down the road, is the final resting place of nearly 7,000 Commonwealth soldiers who participated in building the Burma-Thailand Railway.
Their mission is commemorated across a manicured lawn of gravestones,
and memorials.
It was a solemn day of remembrance in Kanchanaburi, which also came with a telling lunchtime reminder of WWII’s Hellfire experience…
Rivalry serves as a profound motivator, compelling individuals to elevate their performance. It fuels our ambition and stimulates our creative capacities. Additionally, it sharpens our concentration and tests our boundaries.
At its most constructive, rivalry fosters a form of competition that can lead to significant achievements.
For example, had it not been for Gutzom Borglum’s monumental conversion of Tunkasila Sakpe Paha into Mt. Rushmore(1927-1941), there might never have been a Crazy Horse Memorial located 16 miles from Borglum’s masterpiece.
Afterall, it was Korczak Ziolkowski, Borglum’s assistant at Mt. Rushmore who imagined the Lakota mountainside transformed into the world’s largest sculpture of a 19th century Sioux chief on a horse.
As a work-in-progress since 1948, the completed head of Crazy Horse stands at 60 feet, matching the measure of George Washington’s image.
Similarly, visionary architect Frank Lloyd Wright designed Taliesin as his estate-studio outside Spring Green, Wisconsin. Wright’s organic design followed his affinity for infusing natural elements into his habitats (Prairie Stylings).
Forty-eight years later, Alex Jordan–although not professionally trained as an architect–drew inspiration from Wright’s Taliesin, and began construction on his own homestead, the iconic and certainly eccentric House on a Rock–only 6 miles down the same road, on WI-23.
In the hills of Chiang Rai, Thailand a similar rivalry exists between teacher and student, with their competing visions of divinity and righteousness expressed through different, symbolic colors: Chalermchai Kositpipat’s gleaming, ornate White Temple…
versus Puttha Kabkaew’s psychedelic Blue Temple, which borrowed heavily from his mentor’s neo-traditional style of Buddhist art. And we got to explore both of them!
We departed Chiang Mai for Chaing Rai, first passing through Thaweesin Hot Springs, our timely rest stop, and Thailand’s highest elevation thermal waters–where we stretched our legs, soaked our feet,
and where a Happy Room attendant eagerly pointed us in the right direction.
After arriving at the White Temple (Wat Rong Khun), we were greeted by a Transformer,
who seemed to reflect the otherworldly characteristics of the temple grounds.
The details behind Chalermchai’s bid to rebuild the crumbling temple in the village of Rong Khun are legendary.
In 1997, Chalermchai committed to self-fund the project as an offering to Buddha after a national economic downturn threatened its reconstruction. He did so for love of country, love of Buddha, and his love for the King.
He cast the chapel, the Sukavadee Bridge, the crematorium, and other prayer halls in white as a symbol of purity and spiritual enlightenment.
The mirrored tiles represent Buddha’s wisdom, which shines across the mortal world and the universe.
Silver Bodhi trees in public squares and walkways hold the wishes of thousands of visitors who pray for guidance and enlightenment.
Other buildings have been designed in gold–deliberately chosen to represent attachment to material wealth, and worldly distractions. The ornate Happy Room building is one such preoccupation,
while the golden bridge, ironically carries visitors to the golden gallery and gift shop.
At the White Temple, nothing is truly as it seems. Even the monk who adorns the chapel alter has been cast in wax.
The striking artistry and rich cultural symbolism elevate the experience and compel introspection at every moment. Within the Ubosot—where photography is prohibited—captivating murals that blend contemporary references and historical motifs vividly portray the eternal struggle between good and evil. Colorful representations of political figures, Star Wars characters, and Disney icons convey a compelling truth: rebirth, karma, and the cosmic balance of the universe stand as the ultimate rewards.
Puttha Kabkaew’s philosophical and spiritual manifesto clearly aligns with his mentor’s, Chalermchai Kositpipat, and it’s on full display–less than 10 miles away–at the Blue Temple (Wat Rong Suea Ten).
The temple’s name translates to House of the Dancing Tiger as a testament to the wildlife that once roamed freely over temple grounds a century ago.
Puttha’s cerulean-blue facade symbolizes the importance of meditation and inner peace, while gold accents represent enlightenment and emphasize the architecture.
The temple’s interior features a large statue of a white porcelin Buddha…
surrounded by surreal, contemporary Buddhist art.
The Blue Temple is protected by fantastical, celestial creatures: like imposing Nagas,
fountain-loving Garudas.
and an Erawan.
Since 2016, the Guardian of Wat Rong Suea Ten has been intent on heralding the word of Buddhism…
But the road to enlightenment is a bit like trying to assemble IKEA furniture—it’s an eternal struggle! Buddhist imagery often showcases the bewildered faces of those in misery, serving as a nagging reminder of the struggles one must overcome to achieve enlightenment.
And one day, with the help of my fellow mortals, I hope to get there!
Bo Sang Village, of Chiang Mai Province, has a 200-year history of producing traditional umbrellas made by and with local resources. But it took a curious and enterprising monk to bring this industry to Bo Sang.
Legend has it that local monk, Phra Intha was gifted a beautifully crafted hand-made paper umbrella by a Burmese worshipper during morning offerings while on a pilgrimage to a Burmese monastery. It was a very thoughtful gift to shield him from the sun.
Impressed by the umbrella’s detailed design and durability, Phra Intha ventured to the worshipper’s Burmese village to discover that the umbrellas were made entirely of sa (mulberry bark) paper over a bamboo frame, and suffused with oil to also help repel rain.
Realizing that the same natural resources were available at his home, the monk saw a golden opportunity for the farmers of Bo Sang to re-create similar umbrellas to enhance their incomes during the post-harvest season.
Phra Intha dedicated himself to mastering the intricate techniques and skills required for umbrella-making. Upon returning to Bo Sang with his newfound knowledge, he eagerly shared it with the local community, igniting a collaborative spirit that led to the establishment of a vibrant village co-operative, with each community creating a component and playing a vital role in the umbrella-making process.
In 1978, the Umbrella Making Center was established by Thavil Buajeen, where every step of the process of hand-crafting stylish umbrellas has been consolidated under one decorative roof in Bo Sang, and where these parasols continue to draw favor from around the world.
Locals from Sa Bong report daily to the Umbrella Center to demonstrate their artisanship. They are mostly elderly women, by appearance. They squat on grass mats, grasping sharp blades with gnarled fingers, but they work so nimbly, so effortlessly, almost blindly at splitting and shaving bamboo rods into precision-sized spokes for the pulley apparatus.
They perform their tasks at individual workstations atop raised platforms that wrap around an open garden which is anchored by a retail outlet. It’s like walking through a living diorama.
It all starts with papermaking. Bark is first harvested from the mulberry tree and soaked for 24 hours. Then it’s boiled with several kinds of ashes for about 3 hours and clean rinsed with water. Next, the pulp is hand-beaten with mallets until fibrous. Thereafter, the fibers are places in a water-filled tank and stirred with a paddle until the fibers are suspended in the water. The fibers are then sifted through a screen and placed in the sun for about 20 minutes, forming sheets of paper that easily peel when dry.
Bamboo framing is prepared according to the umbrella radius.
Each stem is split into 36 spokes for the lower frame,
and precision-shaved for uniformity.
An equivalent number of bamboo ribs are produced for the canopy.
The spokes are assembled and strung between the upper and lower knobs to create the open/close mechanism.
Once the skeleton has been completed,
the paper canopy is applied and trimmed.
The finished product is now ready for detailing,
or indoor use, only.
Leah’s now ready for the 3-day Bo Sang Umbrella Festival which occurs every 3rd week in January.
On January 3, 2025, Blanca Ojanguren Garcia, a 22-year-old Spanish tourist and law student, sustained a life-ending head injury after being shoved by an elephant during a bathing ritual at Koh Yao Elephant Care in Thailand. The mahout (keeper, trainer, companion) in charge of the elephant was charged with “negligence causing death.” Authorities suggested the elephant may have been stressed. (https://www.bbc.com/news/articles/c9wlzz9179do).
Ms. Garcia’s tragedy marked the first fatality of a new year that saw 39 deaths in 2024. In fact, last December 11, a 49-year-old Thai woman was killed by a wild elephant that charged her at Phu Kradueng National Park. (https://www.nationthailand.com/news/general/40044052). She was one of 240 victims of elephant violence over the past 12 years. Consequently, animal rights advocates have renewed efforts to re-examine the ethics behind elephant management in Thailand.
Leah and I were in Hanoi at the time when I first read the headlines, and it immediately carried me back 3 weeks earlier when we were bathing elephants at Elephant EcoVillage–a prearranged activity at an elephant spa selected by Overseas Adventure Travel (OAT)–and it was a glorious time.
We were totally unaware of any danger during our interaction. Our menagerie was docile and compliant.
Nevertheless, humans have a troublesome history with elephants…
The first evidence of elephant domestication was discovered along the Indus River Valley in 2000 BCE–at a time when as many as 20 million elephants roamed the forests of Africa and Asia.
By 700 BCE, Indian elephants were instruments of warfare and combat.
Two centuries later, elephants were dying for sport and entertainment in Roman amphitheaters.
After 1600, warrior elephants lost their advantage on the battlefield as the Gunpowder Revolution gave rise to new military weapons and tactics. Elephants transitioned to beasts of burden.
The 1800s saw the first elephants exploited in circuses.
In 1989, the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species (CITES) banned international trade on elephant ivory, citing poaching as the biggest threat to their very existence.
A 2024 census identified that elephant populations had dwindled to around 450,000 globally, of which only 10% were counted as Asian elephants.
As of 2020, Thailand has tracked 7,300 elephants within its borders,
with up to 3,500 wild elephants occupying 69 forested sanctuaries.
That leaves 3,800 captive elephants who rely on tourism to pay for their continuing support and welfare. Conservation organizations range anywhere from “observation-only” shelters…
to “rescue centers” that promote elephant riding as a VIP amenity.
Asian Captive Elephant Working Group (ACEWG), a group of regional elephant specialists, veterinarians, researchers, and conservationists acknowledge that:
Closing all elephant tourism venues is unrealistic if there are no alternative livelihoods for mahouts with elephants.
Suitable habitats for reintroducing elephants to the wild have been marginalized by a loss of forest from over-logging.
Elephants are intelligent and mobile animals with a highly developed social structure. Their complex needs require professional management and care protocols.
Elephants–captive or wild–pose a safety risk to humans and must be managed accordingly.
While there are no easy explanations surrounding Human-Elephant Conflict, our half-day experience at Elephant EcoValley was designed to: “…share the elephants’ history, their culture, their current environment, and their relationship with the human species—compassionately and scientifically. “
Ben, our guide, introduced us to Tata, a 40-year-old female, and her mahout for the past 12 years, who has tirelessly devoted himself to Tata’s daily care, as a parent would care for a child.
Leah and I became fast friends with Tata,
but so did everyone else in our group, as she obediently posed with each of us.
There was also an educational component to our visit. We spent some time in their museum loading up on facts and understanding about elephant evolution, anatomy, behavior and welfare.
After a satisfying lunch of regional specialties,
we focused our attention on the prodigious appetite and eating habits of these magnificent beasts who typically spend 16 to 18 hours a day foraging for an array of grass, plants, bushes, fruit, twigs, leaves, roots, and tree bark–each vital for providing a mix of essential minerals and nutrients.
But captive elephants don’t always get the nutrition they need that’s necessary for good health. They also require a multi-vitamin to supplement their daily nutritional intake, and it was our job to produce them from a variety of ingredients.
The recipe called for crushing salt and aloe vera together in a mortar. Then cooked rice, tamarind, and bananas were added to the stump. Finally, we combined moonseed, Lasia, sugarcane, sedge, schefflera, Bermuda grass, and fresh pineapple to the mix and mashed it all until gooey and sticky enough to form pills the size of baseballs.
At last, it was time to feed our new friends,
and they couldn’t get enough!
Depending on their size, an Asian elephant can consume up to 300 kilos per day (660 lbs.) or about 18% of their body weight. And that creates a lot of poo. Elephants can defecate between 10-20 times a day, producing 100-150 kilos (220-330 lbs.) of dung per day. But the people at Elephant EcoValley have an answer for that:
Much of the dung is collected every day;
washed to remove the debris;
sent through a thrasher to separate the fibers from the pulp;
and screened through the slurry…
until finally drying into a sheet of poo paper that doesn’t stink!
Our time at Elephant EcoVillage was a delight, and none of us ever felt threatened or considered that we were exploiting the elephants. On the contrary, these were pampered pachyderms.
It’s uncertain if authorities and activists can agree on balancing eco-tourism with elephant protection, but with education and resources, ethical and sustainable practices can be achieved to benefit both elephants and the community in the End.
After touching down at Chiang Mai International Airport, the stark contrast to Bangkok was immediately apparent. The air was cooler, humidity was dryer, and the AQI was no longer borderline, breathtaking.
We were at the gateway to the Thai highlands, in sight of Doi Suthep (elev. 5500 ft), and we were trading skylines for landscapes.
Exploring Chiang Mai’s heritage–rich with unique Lanna-style architecture, art, sculptures, handicrafts, and ancient temples–gave us the cultural opium we were all craving, with insightful opportunities to:
dive deeper into Buddhism (at Wat Phan On, inside the ancient city wall);
experience the folklore (of traditional Lanna Thai dancing);
admire the folk art (of a master carver from Baan Jang Nak);
appreciate the artisanship (of a reformed Karen Tribe villager);
savor the Lanna cuisine (of a traditional Khantoke dinner);
and relish the view (from atop an artisanal coffee farm).
Tour highlights while visiting Chiang Mai included a nature walk through Mae Kampong Village…
which culminated in a hike up Mae Kampong Waterfall’s flume gorge.
Our journey continued to the remote village of Ban Buak Khang, where master carver, Phet Wiriya combined his childhood passion for wood carving with his deep affection for elephants…
culminating in “Baan Jang Nak” (a house full of elephants), a renowned studio that offers Lanna wood carvers an outlet to hone their prodigious fabricating skills.
At Baan Nai Soi village, we visited a community of Burmese refugees known as Karen, whose tribe crossed miles of Burmese jungle into Mae Hong Son province during 1985 to avoid Myanmar’s political persecution.
Consequently, Thai authorities designated 3 relocation camps within the Highlands,
which over time and not without controversy have evolved into tourist destinations, where “longneck” women generate income by putting themselves on display–not unlike a “human zoo”–for a $10 admission ticket.
Mothers invite their girls at the age of 5 to begin the process by winding a brass coil across their shoulders, beginning with about 3 1/2 pounds of metal and adding inches until they’ve accrued more than 11 pounds.
Periodically, women will exchange the coil for a longer one, calling for more turns–ultimately reaching 22 pounds of down pressure. But longer necks are actually more of an illusion. The weight of the brass bears down on the clavicle, compressing the rib cage, and pulling up 3 to 4 thoracic vertebrae into the neck. While the neck itself is not lengthened, the appearance of a stretched neck is created by the deformation of the clavicle.
While beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder, it’s essential to recognize the complex and competing narratives surrounding the beauty of longneck Karen women. Anthropologists have suggested that long necks may have served as a form of protection, perhaps making these women less appealing to other tribes and thus safeguarding them from a future of slavery. Conversely, it’s believed that the coils would embellish a Karenni’s beauty by highlighting the sex appeal of her elongated neck.
Another perspective is that these coils create a striking resemblance to dragons, a significant symbol in Kayan folklore, which adds a layer of cultural richness to their appearance. Additionally, the idea that the coils might offer protection against biting tigers–whether in a literal or symbolic sense–reflects a deep understanding of the challenges these women might face, blending beauty with resilience.
In another instance of culture shock, we visited Wat Chedi Luang, a 600-year-old cultural landmark located in the historic center of Chiang Mai, and once home to the venerated Emerald Buddha (subsequently, relocated to Wat Phra Kaew in Bangkok in 1551).
It’s also home to the Inthakhin city pillar–protected within a nearby shrine,
and accessible for most to view, but with a major caveat!
Women should take note: that Thailand’s guarantee of gender equality comes with red strings attached.
A peaceful area in the Phra Pradaeng district of Bangkok has captured the attention of eco-tourists who are eager for respite from the maddening tumult of city life, and local residents who are concerned about losing their connection to the land.
Bang Krachao’s origin as a forest reserve never fully took root when introduced in 1985. Unfortunately, conservationists and villagers were never given proper authority to dredge the canals or manage the orchard forests they once called home. With villagers locked out, garbage gathered along the orchards, and the canals choked on excessive sediment and debris.
Thankfully, Suan Pa Ket Nom Klao Urban Community Forest project was established by the Royal Forestry Department in 2007…
allowing the villagers to assist in the clean-up of 25 acres of forest and waterways, followed by planting local tree species. Thus, turning the wasteland into a watershed of trees aptly named Bangkok’s “Green Lung.”
Today, the rehabilitation has borne new fruit. The community forest currently doubles as a nature classroom and an organic kitchen for sustainable ingredients.
By conserving natural resources and avoiding growth by limiting permanent construction, the community forest is flourishing with local edible plants intended for cooking local dishes for my tour group and me.
Our hostess, Prempree Trairat received us at the camp with a refreshing, home-brewed, ardisia blossom tea upon our arrival.
The homeopathic properties of the ardisia plant are mind-bending:
Anti-inflammatory properties: Ardisia is traditionally used to reduce inflammation and can help relieve pain and swelling from rheumatism and injuries.
Analgesic effects: The plant has been used to relieve pain, making it a valuable resource in traditional medicine. Whether it’s a headache, toothache, or general body pain, Ardisia is believed to have analgesic properties that can provide relief.
Anti-cancer potential: Some studies suggest that Ardisia may possess anti-cancer properties, particularly in liver cancer. Although more research is needed to fully understand its potential in cancer treatment, this finding is promising.
Respiratory health: Ardisia has long been used to treat respiratory tract infections and coughs. Its expectorant properties can help loosen mucus and relieve congestion, providing relief for common colds and respiratory ailments.
Digestive benefits: Traditional medicine practitioners have used Ardisia to treat digestive issues like diarrhea. Its astringent properties may help reduce excessive bowel movements and provide relief from gastrointestinal discomfort.
Wound healing: Ardisia’s traditional use in treating snake and insect bites suggests its potential in wound healing. The plant’s antimicrobial properties may help prevent infection, while its anti-inflammatory effects can reduce swelling and promote faster healing.
Female health support: Ardisia has been used to alleviate dysmenorrhea (painful menstruation) and other menstrual issues. Its traditional use suggests that it may help regulate menstrual cycles and reduce pain associated with cramps.
General blood circulation: Traditional medicine attributes Ardisia with the ability to improve overall blood circulation. This could potentially benefit individuals with circulatory issues or those looking to enhance their cardiovascular health.
While our group snacked on crispy tempura from locally harvested flora…
I assisted in crushing a basketful of prepared ingredients (turmeric, lemongrass, garlic, coriander, cumin, chilis, etc.) into a golden curry paste…
to flavor our yellow curry chicken dish…
nobly and ironically prepared by Stephanie, our ardent vegetarian.
Soon, all the elements had come together for an exceptionally, healthy and tasty meal!
Afterwards, some of us took a leisurely nature walk across a slatted boardwalk…
which gave us a personal perspective of our farm to table experience;
while others indulged in a traditional Thai leg massage–
taking some of us to a blissful state of nirvana.
Needless to say, by the end of our meal and massage, none of us was feeling any pain!
Photographing the entirety of the Reclining Buddha at Wat Pho is no small feat!
The soles of Buddha’s feet measure 3 meters high and 4.5 meters long. While Paul Simon was singing about “Diamonds on the Soles of her Shoes,” Buddha was “kickin’ it” with mother-of-pearl inlays. Each foot is distinguished by 108 panels featuring icons of flowers, dancers, white elephants, tigers, and altar symbols. A chakra (energy point) has been planted in the middle.
But back to Wat Pho for some historical perspective:
Wat Pho is a temple complex of 40 structures spanning 80,000 sq ft,
It’s rich history dates back to the reign of King Phetracha (1688–1703), who is credited for constructing the first temple of Wat Pho, prior to the collapse of the ancient city of Ayutthaya (1351-1767).
However, it’s King Rama I (1737-1809), who moved the capital city to Bangkok after Ayutthaya fell to the Burmese in 1767, thus assuring the revival and rehabilitation of Wat Pho, and its designation as Bangkok’s most important monastic enclave. His ashes are housed within Phra Ubosot–Wat Pho’s most sacred building–beneath the Buddha, also rescued from Ayutthaya.
Of the 95 chedis scattered throughout the complex, the four tallest rise 42m and contain the ashes of Rama’s 3 successors. Chinese guardians offer protection.
The first chedi to be built by Rama I holds the remnants of the once great Buddha recovered from Ayutthaya, after the Burmese stripped it of its gold. The story goes:
Additionally, 400 Buddha’s were salvaged from northern Thailand and aligned along the cloister walls.
and courtyards–
while 4 other groups of 5 chedis were erected for the ashes of royal family members.
Wat Pho has long been considered a great center for higher education. Phra Mondop contains the Buddhist library, and houses preserved palm leaves inscribed with Buddha’s teaching.
Wat Pho is regarded Thailand’s first public university, training students in religion, science, and literature through its many murals and sculptures. In fact, medical scholars during the reign of Rama III (1824-1851) introduced 60 inscribed plaques to adorn its pavilions–30 each for the front and back of the human form–illustrating therapeutic points and energy pathways used in traditional Thai massage.
Several gardens and ponds also populate the grounds…
making it ideal as a backdrop for posing.
But the star of the show is the Reclining Buddha–not because it reclines (which is a familiar representation of his penultimate hours on Earth before his ascension)
–but because of its stature.
The Reclining Buddha extends 46 meters and stands/reclines 15 meters tall.
The statue and its subsequent enclosure (Building 29) were commissioned by Rama III in 1832.
Buddha’s right arm supports a head embellished with hundreds of chedi tresses, which rests upon two box-pillows encrusted with multi-colored, glass mosaics.
We would have meditated on this marvel forever, until Marc, a fellow traveler on our journey sounded the gong…
signaling our time to move on to our next adventure!
I've been here, there and everywhere; Far and wide, across divides; But none compare to a maiden voyage extraordinaire, exploring America for one full year... in my shiny Airstream!
Walking through Bangkok can be challenging. The traffic is relentless; the pedestrians can be pushy; and the “sidewalks” are compromised. But none of this should deter the intrepid tourist.
Our excursion began at the hotel’s spirit house (within the Thanon Phaya Thai district), where we paid our respects…
before continuing to Warehouse 30,
an art and design complex just east of the Chao Phraya riverfront,
where we found delightful exhibits and installations, intriguing antiques, and boutique apparel.
Nearby, we discovered Talat Noi–
a resurrected warehousing slum with meandering alleys filled with repurposed auto parts, shabby temples,
and wall art.
After another 15 minutes of sidestepping aggressive scooters along congested cobbled alleyways, we arrived at the Chinatown Gate, planted in the middle of an enormous traffic circle.
Chinese locals by the scores were making offerings at a local Buddhist Temple.
Chinatown Night Market was to our north,
but we were saving that for an evening stroll, when the street would close for Monday’s celebration of street food–filled with curious selections for adventurous eaters.
Our last stop included a visit to Wat Mangkon Kamalawat just before closing. It’s the largest and most significant Chinese Buddhist Temple in Bangkok. The temple is surrounded by shrines dedicated to a variety of Buddhist, Taoist and Confucian deities and religious figures worshipped by the local Chinese.
Worn out and wrung out, we took a taxi back to the hotel. We had walked nearly 10 km. in 90o heat. It was time to freshen up and consider a new adventure with an eye toward dinner.
Leah and I bid adieu to Admiralty Bay, with “John and George” (our yellow submarines) safely stowed in the ship’s hangar. We also wished a speedy recovery to our medevacked shipmate.
Our journey continued past a leopard seal lounging on an ice floe designed for one, but our heading was uncertain.
Viking Octantis was now operating in uncharted, metaphorical waters. With our predetermined itinerary cast into the Bay of Serendipity, we now had a rare opportunity to explore the tip of Antarctica’s peninsula!
The wheelhouse brass decided that Octantis would complete its Antarctic voyage with a continental landing at Brown Bluff.
Additionally, resident scientists–supported by Viking’s mission to collaborate with global research networks–lobbied for an interim landing on Astrolabe Island, where penguin monitors from Oceanites were enthusiastic about counting a colony of chinstrap nests that hadn’t been surveyed since 1987.
Science certainly set the tone for our Antarctic expedition. Passengers were enlightened and enriched with daily lectures and participation opportunities to complement Viking’s pursuit of marine science.
In the name of “Citizen Science,” Leah and I facilitated in collecting phytoplankton, and sampling the water for microplastics,
which was later analyzed in a fully equipped science lab.
Better yet, the entire ship was invited to celebrate the release of a weather balloon…
and monitor the data stream from its high-altitude instruments.
On January 16, we awoke to calm seas and blue skies over Bransfield Strait, with Trinity Peninsula dominating our horizon. The panorama gave the illusion of an expansive sculpture park installation.
Leah and I were scheduled to board a Special Ops Boat (S.O.B.) for a closer look–
that had us oohing and aahing as we darted through one-of-a-kind carvings.
“That one resembles the Statue of Liberty… and there’s an ice cream cone… and that one could be a mushroom…” were common overheard comparisons.
I marveled at the colossal size of these formations shaped by wind and sun and imagined the volume of ice beneath the surface!
Later that day, we swapped our high-speed vessel for an assigned Zodiac…
to ferry us to Astrolabe Island.
Our pilot cruised past Dragons Teeth–a collection of 100m peaks cutting through the gumline of frigid waters.
We zigzagged through towers of blue ice,
until we beached at a guano-stained snowfield ruled by Antarctic fur seals–
inherently cute but unpredictable predators–
while a rookery of chinstrap penguins preferred the protection of High Ground,
where eggs…
and hatchlings were well-protected.
Nevertheless, their paths inevitably intersected en route to the sea.
We closed our day with one last excursion along Hut Cove,
where a thriving colony of gentoo penguins were filling their bellies with krill.
After returning to Octantis, it was announced that the Oceanites team identified an unknown colony of chinstrap penguins on Diaz Rock, using drones equipped with thermal imaging to detect distant splashes of pink poop.
Overall, it was a good day for science, but it was a great day for scenery and seabirds.
The journey continued beyond our early morning detour through Lemaire Channel. Viking Octantis set a course for nearby Cuverville Island, a protected rock lying between Arctowski Peninsula,
and the northern tip of Rongé Island, west of Graham Land.
Leah and I were keen to arrive at our first landing zone–originally scheduled days earlier by Pamela, Viking’s program director, who coordinated the excursions and edutainment events throughout our time at sea.
In accordance with Antarctic Treaty visitor site guidelines, Pam’s team launched a staggered fleet of Zodiacs to Cuverville Island capped at 100 visitors (excluding guides and scientists) for a closer look at the estimated 6,500–7,000 breeding pairs of Gentoo penguins–making this the largest colony of this species on the Antarctic Peninsula.
Despite the pristine vista, we were forewarned by our Zodiac pilot/naturalist to expect an unpleasant smell on our approach to the island.
No joke. As if on cue, the stench of penguin poo was so sudden and overwhelming that a couple of old-timers dared to let go of the gunwale lifeline to hold their noses.
In a matter of minutes, we reached the landing beach, distancing ourselves from the eastern edge of the cobble, where the colony accessed the sea. It was no surprise that the guano-stained beach proved to be ground zero for foul fowl.
Eventually, we landed on the northern edge of the island. Before disembarking the Zodiac–a drill we perfected within the ship’s hangar–we were instructed to stay a minimum of 5m from wildlife whenever possible and avoid the penguins’ highway lanes.
Strolling the penguin highway
Easier said than done. These critters seemed especially curious of us when they weren’t preoccupied with preening,
impressing their future mates with the perfect selection of nesting stones,
or incubating on nests of captured stones.
Occasionally, an adult would sound the alarm for an invading skua,
whose interest in Gentoo eggs and chicks is always a threat to the rookery.
Leah and I hiked to the top of the promontory,
for an overview of Cuverville and the channel.
Sadly, we worked our way back to catch the next available Zodiac bound for Octantis, but the stories and adrenalin from the day carried us to sunset (11:25 PM) and into tomorrow.
Next stop: our kayaking adventure in Chiriguano Bay.
It was a dramatic crossing from Ushuaia to the Antarctic Peninsula, and the reward was visceral.
When seas had finally calmed, relieved passengers emerged from their cloistered cabins, looking refreshed and revitalized, with a “what’s-for-breakfast” look on their faces. There was a literal pep in their step as they attacked the buffet on Deck 6.
I attended the 10 A.M. daily briefing in the Aula, a two-tiered, smartly equipped, and fashionable auditorium,
while Leah live-streamed the event on the wall-mounted, flat screen TV in the privacy of our well-appointed Nordic hive on Deck 4.
At the briefing, our Program Director confirmed that our first destination would be Fournier Bay, a picturesque sanctuary located in the Palmer Archipelago,and situated on the northeast coast of Anvers Island, a mountainous coastal enclave just above the Antarctic Circle.
Our flexible activity assignments were previously distributed in anticipation of our arrival, although none of us would be scheduled for a landing, as deep water and rocky surroundings were among deciding factors.
However, it was a perfect opportunity to board a Zodiac for a closer inspection of the coastline. According to our team schedules, we gathered in the hangar, all of us outfitted and overheated in our complimentary expedition jackets, and waited patiently …
until the next Zodiac became available.
The water was calm as our pilot dodged floating chunks of ice,
and weaved through more formidable icebergs on our approach to the Anvers Island.
It was nearly impossible to contain our giddiness as we cruised closer to shore,
where we reached an outcropping of volcanic granite.
That’s where we spotted a solitary chinstrap penguin–identifiable by the telltale line that runs under his helmet–who was posing on a puddle of penguin poop for our benefit.
It was our first Antarctic wildlife encounter, but judging from the penguin’s apparent apathy, probably not his first photo shoot.
The excursion was brief and memorable, but easily topped the following day by an early morning sail through the Lemaire Channel, featuring breathtaking views of mirrored mountains standing against azure skies.
Streaming thru America 