Bonus Shot: Luang Prabang Morning Market

Tags

Luang Prabang, Markets & Shopping, Photography

Maybe this is a case of which comes first, the chicken or the egg . . . or more appropriately the egg vendor. I’ve not yet published a post about the morning market in Luang Prabang, and normally post extra photos after a main post. But I’m being lazy today. And I have a ton of market photos because we started each morning in Luang Prabang at the market, just like all the locals do.

The town begins and ends each day with a market, the two situated just a block away from each other. The night market is for tourists; with the exception of some food everything for sale is souvenir related. The morning market is for locals; zero souvenirs unless freshly caught fish, slaughtered pigs, or plucked chickens are your idea of a souvenir. As geared toward touri as the area is, it’s nice that this little slice of Lao life has retained its authenticity.

Rolling On The River: The Chao Phraya Riverboats

Tags

Bangkok, Money Matters, Transportation

Beautiful views of iconic places are part of the ride on a Chao Phraya Riverboat.

One of the cheaper thrills in Bangkok is riding the riverboats servicing the Chao Phraya River. They are a convenient transportation option for any destination along the river too. The process of catching one of the boats can be a bit daunting to the first time visitor; the internet is awash with warnings about having to hop on and hop off quickly, one type going along the river and another across it, boats that don’t stop at all piers . . . it’s easier to just decide to take a taxi instead. Ignore all that crap (but pay attention to the few warnings I’m about to provide) and go for it. You’ll enjoy the trip, the views, and how little the experience costs.

The most frequent route touri take is up from the Central Pier to where the Grand Palace and Wat Pho are. I know some old hands claim it’s better to make that trip by taxi as it’s quicker. But you’re on holiday. It’s time to slow down a bit. And in this case it really is more about the journey than the destination. Taking a riverboat to the Grand Palace means your experience starts at dockside. You’ll remember your boat ride. A ride in a taxi, not so much.

Getting Started:
Central Pier, also called Sathorn Pier is located at the foot of the Saphan Taksin BTS station. This is the main departure pier for most touri. You can also get there by bus, but if you’ve mastered Bangkok’s bus system you really don’t need help figuring out how to use the riverboats.

When you come down the stairs from the trains, turn left. Um, that’d be in the direction of the river. If you use the escalator when leaving the station you’ll have to walk across a short bridge when you get to the water’s edge. If you took the stairs instead you’ll be right in line with the pier.

That was easy, huh?

The obvious places to buy a riverboat ticket at Central Pier are only for the pricey Tourist Boats.

The Tourist Boat Scam:
You’ll notice I didn’t tell you to stop anywhere in the BTS station. You need to learn to follow my directions! Inside the station there are several small offices with lots of signs touting riverboat service. Touting is the operative word. These are all set up to take you on a ride. And not just a boat ride. When you get to the boats, you’re gonna pay as little as 10 baht for your ride. If you arrange your day on the river with one of these shops you pay a few hundred baht. If you haven’t got to participate in a scam in Bangkok yet and by listening to me missed out on this one, do not despair. The same scam awaits dockside. With much more aggressive touts.

This scam, however, both inside the BTS Station and dockside, is an official one. It’s not a scam if you are knowledgable about using the boats; yours may be an informed decision to do so. But most touri haven’t a clue and just assume it’s their only option. The scam is the Chao Phraya Tourist Boat and has been set up to take passengers only to those piers that most touri use. There is an English speaking guide on board to help you get off at the right stop and to tell you which sites are at which piers.

The boats are a little larger, a little newer, and a little roomier than the others plying the river. The fare is 150 baht ($5.00) for a full day’s worth of cruising the river (well, from 9:30 am to 4:00pm). So the Tourist Boat is easy to use. And you’ll be surrounded by your fellow touri. But, for example, if you are just planning on going to Wat Pho and the Grand Palace (a full day’s outing in itself) catching the no flag or orange flag boats instead will cost you as little as 20 baht for the round trip excursion, a savings of $4.50. The ticket taker on these boats will happily signal you when the boat arrives at the pier you want.

If you decide to go the Tourist Boat route, no problemo. There is a large kiosk at the pier where you can buy your ticket. If you decide to save a bit and take one of the other boats instead, you will almost always pay for your ride once on board. Occasionally there is a person sitting behind a small wood desk at the boat ramp selling tickets. Even when that ticket seller is there, you can still board and pay the ticket taker on the boat.

Each of the express boats lines are identified by color, the boats for those line fly an appropriately colored flag.

A Choice of Colors, A Choice of Routes:
In addition to the Tourist Boat there are four other boat lines to choose from. They are identified by color (i.e. the orange line) and identified by boat: the orange line boats fly a small orange flag. Seems simple, no cause for concern, right? But this is Thailand, so there is also a ‘no flag’ boat and route. Which happens to be the cheapest to use and the line that stops at the most piers. For most touri picking the correct line is easy. Most touri go to the same piers. All of the cheaper lines stop either at those piers, or at one close to them. So most visitors just hop on the first boat headed in the direction they want to go, regardless of the color of flag it is flying, or lack thereof.

But, keep in mind that all boats do not stop at all piers. If you are going to a pier not frequented by touri, you’ll need to check a route map to make sure the boat you catch stops where you want to go. Even with the more popular stops, not all boats hit each pier. For example, the yellow line does not stop at the piers for Wat Pho and the Grand Palace. The green line boats stop at Tha Chang Pier, the closest pier to the Grand Palace, but not at the Tha Tien Pier which is the closest to Wat Pho. (The Tourist Boat only stops for Wat Pho, not for the Grand Palace). Not a problem, touri get off at either pier and walk anyway. All boats stop at Rachawongse Pier, the suggested pier for a stroll into China Town. And if you want to take a boat to see Khaosan Road, neither the yellow or green flag boats stop at Phra Arthit, the pier closest to Bangkok’s backpacker haven.

If you are concerned about catching or not catching the right line, stick to the orange flag boats and no flag boats, they hit the most piers. Easier yet, pick up a free map of Bangkok at the airport – all of them include a route map for the riverboats – or a free BTS route map at any Skytrain station as they too include a map for the riverboats.

The riverboats are a great place to go monk hunting. They’re easiest to find in the “Space For Monks’ areas on board.

Getting On Board:
So you made it to the pier and decide which flag to watch for, now what? If you are at the Central Pier (Sathorn) just follow the herd. Since this is the end of the line for most routes, almost all boats will be headed up river. Which is where you want to go. The ramp out to the dock the boat will tie up to will be to your right as you face the water. This is the same for all piers along the river (at least until you cross to the other side). To the right goes up river, to the left goes downstream. You’ll want to remember that for your trip back.

A boat appears, it nudges itself to the dock, and everyone scrambles to get on board. Yes the dock moves and so does the boat, not necessarily in union. Unless you are a total clutz, boarding is really not a problem. If you are old or frail, the deckhand standing on the dock will lend you a hand. So no worries. And yes, the boat wants to take off quickly, but unless you stop to take a few dozen photos, they are not gonna leave you on the dock. So forget all of those warnings about having to board quickly. Watch out for the monks instead.

Lots of monks use the riverboats. And there is monk etiquette to observe. They get preference. And are skilled at taking it (which really is about you, not them). They are the first to get on and the first to get off the boat. So feel free to push in front of others (it’s the way Asians use lines) but always give monks the right of way.

Once on board there are two passageways leading to the seating area in the boat, one along each side of the boat. You can take either. Both have two or three steps down from the brightly painted yellow area you climbed onto when you boarded the boat. At the foot of the stairs, and usually covering the first row of seats, there is a small sign declaring the area is reserved for monks. So don’t hog the rail there (unless no monks are on board). I’ve never ridden the Tourist Boat, but I have a strong feeling it doesn’t get much monk traffic. If you are into monk avoidance, the Tourist Boat may be your best bet. Take that as you will.

Read this sign carefully. Then ignore it.

Most people grab a seat for the ride. You are not supposed to stand in the yellow boarding area, but I always do. Great breeze and the best views there, especially for photography. The crew may shout a bit about not blocking this area, and there are signs telling you not to stand there. Ignore them. Thais do not pay attention to rules. Neither should you. When in Rome do as the Romans do.

Paying Your Dues:
If you didn’t take the Tourist Boat option, at some point you’re gonna have to pay your dues. The fare depends on the boat line you hopped aboard as well as your destination. How much your fare should be can be confusing. Back at the Central Pier, there is a large sign listing the fares. Ignore it. You are on holiday. You have more important matters to think about. If it really matters, someone will tell you how much your fare will be. Usually, that will be the on-board ticket taker.

At some point the ticket taker will appear; it’s usually a woman. She’ll be carrying a cylindrical tin box that she makes lots of noise with. You hand her your fare when she stops by you and she’ll give you a small receipt. Hand her a 100 baht note and she’ll frown. Instead, this is a good place to dump some of those 1 baht coins you’ve collected as change over the last few days. And a moving boat is not a good place to piss off a local anyway. Occasionally, the ticket taker will miss you. Don’t be a tight wad (CHRIS!), it’s only like thirty cents. Go pay your damn fare.

Looking for a ticket taker? Listen for this.

Disembarking:
As each pier nears, one of the crew starts blowing a whistle. He’s talking to the driver, telling him whether or not there are passengers to stop for and guiding him into the pier if there are. The piers are numbered as well as named (yes, the number will be easier to remember than the name, so use them). As your boat approaches the whistle guy will toot out the piers number so you can listen for your pier. (Okay. I made that up. But please pass it along. I want to get on a boat full of touri one day and see them all counting ‘toots’ for their pier.)

When the whistle guy starts tooting, it’s your signal to get ready to get off the boat. The boats can get crowded. Do not wait for the boat to reach the dock before you make your way back to where you get off (another good reason to take a position in the verboten yellow area). Getting off the boat is the same as getting on. Let the monks go first. Most people waiting to board will allow those getting off to go first but some will push on because they are employing the Asian Line usage technique. When you hop onto the dock, do not stop to get your land legs back. There are others behind you still waiting to get off the damn boat. Thank you very much.

The riverboats are popular among visitors and locals alike; they can get quite crowded.

Up, Down, Or Over:
The boat you use going up and down the river has a long pointed bow (that’d be the front of the boat for the non-nautically inclined). If you want to cross the river instead, as you will have to if you want to visit Wat Arun, you take a different boat. From the same pier. The cross river boats do just that: they cross the river. Pier to pier. You can not catch one to go down a few stops. They have a short blunt bow. And are smaller boats. The process of using them (boarding, paying your fare, and disembarking) is the same. Only quicker. When you are done at Wat Arun, for example, you’ll have to catch another cross-river boat back to your original pier to catch one of the boats headed back to your main pier.

The cross river boats are called ferries (so yes, you can do the whole fairy on the ferry thing). The boats that stream up and down river are express boats. Not that you’ll ever have need to use either of those terms. There are also cross river ferries operated by some of the nicer hotels. I’m not sure why. If you are staying at one of those places you should be taking a limo anyway.

Unless you really head off the beaten path, the ferries you use will cost you 5 baht each direction. The Tourist Boat lists Wat Arun as one of its stops, but in reality you have to get off at Tha Tien and take the ferry across just like all the folk who only paid 11 baht to get to tha Tien. I do not know if Tourist Boat pass holders ride for free or have to pay for that crossing, but hey, it’s only 5 baht.

Everyone I’ve ever taken on the river boats has enjoyed the experience. It’s worth taking a ride on one of the riverboats even with no destination in mind. I’ve hopped off at various piers just to stroll through the area and see what’s there. I don’t think a visit to Bangkok is complete without at least one ride on a riverboat. It may not be the cruising you are used to, but give it a try. You’ll enjoy the ride.

Because I’m that kinda guy, here’s a route map for the riverboats with the major touri spots noted.

Monk Shot! #36

Tags

Bangkok, Monks, Photography

Baby Monks On Board

As in the case of hunting other wild game, a good place to look for monks is by the local watering hole or river. You can always find monks in Bangkok along the Chao Phraya River, many use the express boats. Monks are not quite as protective of their young as most species, so you can often find the yearlings out on their own or in small groups.

Four Degrees Of Sexparation

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And More!, That's Gay

PEOPLE’s Sexiest Man Alive | Bradley Cooper

People Magazine got lots of press last week when it named Bradley Cooper as its Sexiest Man Alive. There are always those who disagree with their pick for the annual title, but this year’s choice really brought out the naysayers. The media and gay guys alike went batshit over the idea that Bradley is hotter than, well, pretty much half of Hollywood. Can’t say as I blame them. I wouldn’t kick Bradley out of bed – and if rumors are to believed, few guys have – but he certainly is nowhere close to the top of my list of fantasy dates.

But then neither is Brad Pitt and no one questioned his right to the title when he won People’s award. The difference is even if Brad isn’t what curls your toes you still have to admit he is (or was) a fine hunk of manhood. Bradley, on the other hand, is okay, but nothing to howl at the moon over. The choice the magazine makes each year is a subjective one. Matt Damon won one year, but unless you grew up in Boston and have been conditioned to find that Irish working man with the pug nose look hot, he’s not. No one complained about his win though because he’s a nice guy and everyone felt bad for him in that he is friends and hangs with Ben Affleck and George Clooney, both previous Sexiest Man Alive honorees. It’s kinda like the Oscar Mickey Rourke won. Not deserved, more of a thrown bone.

The bigger problem with this year’s crop of Sexiest Alive hunks is that out of the top 12, only one is under 30. Most hover around 40 and two even clock in at the senior citizen discount age of 50 and above. Not that old dudes can’t be sexy. But the sexiest alive? When they only have a few years left of qualifying for the alive part? Hopefully People will hire someone under the age of 75 to join their editorial staff before next year’s selection.

Jason Momoa hunked away with the #9 spot. A good hairstylist could easily push him up to #1.

If you think I’m being cruel about the age thing, Alec Baldwin came in at the #11 spot on this year’s list. Alec Baldwin. Alec is like 80 or something. And sexy is not the adjective that springs to mind when you think of Alec Baldwin. Obese, gross, ugly, disgusting: yes. Sexy? Not so much. I wouldn’t fuck Alec Baldwin with Stephen Baldwin’s dick.

Some would say, who cares? It’s not like you’ll ever get to bed a celebrity. Many people roll their eyes when gay guys start talking about the latest closeted Hollywood heart throb. Their feeling is that it doesn’t matter if Bradley, for example, is gay or not. It’s not like that means you have any better chance of landing him. Spoil sports. And it turns out they just might be wrong. The celebrity you’d like to do the most isn’t necessarily beyond your reach. The famous hottie may be only 4.37 people away.

Scientists working with Facebook at the University of Milan reported on Monday that the average number of acquaintances separating any two people in the world is now but 4.74, down from the traditional 6 most people are familiar with through the six degrees of separation paradigm.

The new study calculated the average distance between any two people by computing a vast number of sample paths among Facebook users. They found that the average number of links from one arbitrarily selected person to another was 4.74. In the United States, where more than half of people over 13 are on Facebook, it was just 4.37. The original “six degrees” finding, published in 1967 by psychologist Stanley Milgram, was drawn from 296 volunteers. That study’s findings were popularized through the parlor game Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, in which disparate Hollywood personalities are linked to one another, the joke being that everyone in Hollywood is linkable to Kevin within six steps.

Josh Charles is the 7th sexiest man alive. Because nothing is hotter than a forty year-old man with acne.

It’s nice to know that now there are only four people between you and the famous hunk you’re dying to reach out and touch. That’s a tantalizingly close, no longer unreachable goal. It’s just that with Bradley, no one really wants to bother going through those four people. People’s error in judgement is not surprising though, it’s typical of a leading industry magazine’s editorial staff getting too wrapped up in their little world and forgetting that the views of the majority are not reflected in their brand of reality. Rolling Stone Magazine just made the same mistake, though their equally erroneous call probably will not incite quite the same degree of outrage as People’s. Beauty always wins out over talent.

This week’s issue of Rolling Stone named Jimi Hendrix as the greatest guitar player in history. Not too controversial of a choice. Jimi has both talent and the tragically dead celebrity thing going for him. At first glance it would appear Rolling Stone went for the easy play, Jimi is one of the first guitarists most would think of if asked to name the greats. But a lot of that is hype. The songs he is most famous for – with the exception of his rendition of The Star Spangled Banner – demonstrate little of his true talent on guitar. Go find a bootleg copy of one of his live sessions where he plays the blues classic Red House though and you’ll see why he is deserving of the top spot.

So Jimi’s win is not the problem. The problem is the rest of the field rounding out the Top Ten. Rolling Stone went with, and I quote: “greatest guitar player in history.” But their choices belong in a list of greatest guitar players in Rock and Roll, not in all genres and all throughout the history of the world. Don’t get me wrong, list-makers Keith Richards and Pete Townsend are both extremely talented guitarists. But Keith claiming the #2 spot? I don’t think so. Even in his drug muddled mind he’s not worthy of that honor. And Pete’s inclusion is yet again a bone thrown out of sympathy. In both of their cases the honor was given more to the legend of their bands than to the guitarists themselves.

Will Smith stared as a gay man in the movie version of Six Degrees of Separation. The word is that in real life the distance between Will and gaydom is nonexistent.

B.B. King made the list coming in at the #6 spot. Even though B.B. is so old and fat he has to be wheeled onto stage these days, his inclusion in the top ten shows the judges had some integrity in making their choices. Put B.B.’s fretwork up against the flying finger of Jimi Hendrix and it’s no contest. B.B.’s talents are more sublime. His skill is in teasing single notes and abbreviated riffs out of Lucille that carry an entire symphony. If you ever feel the need to understand the phrase ‘less is more’, go listen to what B.B. can do with a single note.

The panel of experts recruited to vote for their favorite guitar players included musicians such as Lenny Kravitz, Eddie Van Halen (who was voted No. 8), Brian May and Dan Auerbach from The Black Keys, along with a selection of Rolling Stone’s senior writers and editors. All come from a Rock background so it’s no big surprise that it was Rock icons they tend to in making their selection. B.B. was the only Bluesman to make the cut (though to be fair Jimi never got the credit he deserved for playing the blues). Fine. I get that. But Chuck Berry? And in the #7 spot ahead of Duane Allman? What were they thinking?

Conspicuously absent from a list of guitar greats that not only included Chuck Berry but Eddie Van Halen, is a guitarist who should have been in contention for the #1 spot: Stevie Ray Vaughan. How you could honor Jimi, when Stevie payed homage to Jimi with a version of his classic Little Wing that not only duplicated his mastery but bettered him is a crime. Stevie’s fingers flew so fast that Keith Richards would still be trying to fix his guitar strap by the time Stevie had segued from Pride and Joy into Texas Flood. Go listen to Tin Pan Alley and then tell me Chuck Berry was a better guitarist. I don’t think so.

Stevie Ray’s guitar oozed sex.

People’s error was in going with a top box office draw based on a movie’s popularity rather than on hunkdom. Rolling Stone’s was in favoring historic figures of Rock over talent. The brainiacs at the University of Milan probably made an error just as grievous in using Facebook’s definition of a friend, and the assumption that actually qualifies as a relationship in claiming we are all connectable within just slightly more than 4 people now. But if that means I stand a better chance of tapping Jason Momoa’s cute little butt, sign me up as a friend.

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: To A Tee

Tags

Gay Thailand, Offs

Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, has a body to die for. Adorning it is one of his favorite pastimes. He’s picky about what he wears and how it fits. I’m not sure why. He’d look hot in a garbage bag. He has a fondness for Puma, but beyond that isn’t real label conscious. The price tag tends to mean more to him than the designer, and inexpensive rules the day. Fortunately when sticker shock hits, he walks away shaking his head. He’s happier with a 100 baht shirt bought on sale than a 1,000 baht shirt. As long as it is real. Thais are good at producing knock-offs. But wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them.

Personally, I think he should just spend his life naked. But for some strange masochistic reason, I buy him a lot of clothes. Sometimes I get the feeling I’ve purchased Noom his entire wardrobe, or at least close to it. I usually bring him a few T-shirts from the U.S. when I visit, ‘cuz you can never have enough T-shirts. I usually bring him a few pair of socks too. That kinda seems like a maiden aunt thing to do, but if he doesn’t have a pair of clean socks in the morning he’ll happily slip on the pair from the day before. That bugs the shit out of me, so the socks are more about me than about him.

But then so is the sexy underwear.

We bought my favorite pair of underwear for him late on a Sunday evening at a thrown together market along the skywalk at the National Stadium BTS station. Some enterprising young gay boy had a few dozen pair spread out on a blanket, 99 baht each. We bought a pair of black, short-rise body hugging boxer briefs with small Playboy bunny cutouts and a tan waistline that perfectly matches Noom’s skin color. He almost looks better in those than he does naked. Almost.

When I’ll be in town more than a day or two, which means he’ll be with me for more than a day or two, he’ll run back to his loom and grab a suitcase full of clothes, all of which I’ve bought him. I’m not sure if that’s his entire wardrobe or that he keeps a cache of those I’ve purchased to wear when I’m in town. He does occasionally have an item or two that’s new. That usually means used. Last trip it was a pair of white cargo shorts. He’d bought them for 25 baht. And was quire proud of his savvy shopping capabilities. Of course, he looked like a million bucks in them.

I tend to buy the clothes I’ll wear on a trip while I’m in Bangkok. Saves on picking out what to pack. Clothes are cheap in Thailand. I can get a pair of pants for half what I’d pay back home. I’m not really saving any money because if Noom is out with me, and he usually is, that means I’m buying two pair of pants instead of one. But then he does bargain the price down, so there’s some savings involved. I’ll try on a few different pair looking for the ones that fit best. He just grabs whatever pair he likes and is good to go. I’m waiting for the day that we get back to the hotel and his new pants don’t fit. But so far, that hasn’t happened. Watching him pull them off is my reward instead.

Noom does good picking out pants. With shirts, not so much. Left to his own devices, his taste can be dangerous. Shiny is always a plus in his book, so I have to often nix a particularly gaudy shirt. And he has a fondness for graphic T-shirts with graphics that aren’t really appropriate. I’ve already told the story here of us going to the King’s dead sister’s memorial and having to wear black; Noom picked out a black T-shirt with a drawing of a bull sitting on a toilet. I explained the picture to him, just in case he missed it’s meaning. Made no difference, that’s what he wore.

On this trip, on our first full day in Laos, Noom pulled on a new T he’d bought. The front had a chest-size picture of a hand flipping the bird. And then in case you couldn’t read sign language, on the back Fuck Off was spelled out. Real nice for touring the wats of Luang Prabang.

He really is a sweet and gentle person; flipping off everyone he passed via his shirt just isn’t him. So I asked him why he was wearing a shirt that said Fuck Off.

“It Engless,” he explained.

Right. Thanks for that, I’d never have guessed. But then I’ve noticed Thais like to wear T-shirts with English slogans on them. Even if the English makes no sense. So I guess Noom’s special finger T at least had fluency going for it. His attire probably would have bothered me more, but I figured no one would notice his shirt. They’d be staring at his body instead.

It’s time for a new pair of sneakers. I bought him a pair of Adidas in Bangkok when we first met so it has become tradition that I supply his footwear. But those I can get cheaper in America, so while in Bangkok we look at shoes, he gives me an idea of what current style gets him going and then I find them dirt cheap back home. He’s decided it’s time to try Nike. And even had a pair in mind. We shopped on-line so he could show me which pair he had his heart set on. “Red” had not been enough of a description, and the idea I’d be buying a pair of red shoes bothered me. Even if they were for his feet.

Turned out it was the Nike logo he wanted in red. Phew. Close one. But then not knowing when to quit – which should be when you are ahead – I continued surfing the Nike site and found you could design your own pair of shoes. Ooops. Noom spent four hours on-line making one change after another and then back again. I have no doubt the final version he went with will truly be unique. That they will have his name on the back of the heel personalizes them, but so does the rainbow of colors he selected. I’m fairly certain several of those colors have never been seen together in public before.

Nice though for those of you who are looking to spot him on Soi Twilight. Give it a month, then there’ll be no reason to memorize tattoos or carry a photo along. Just look for the hot stud wearing the rainbow pair of Nikes. And if you are going to off him, you might want to stop on the way back to your hotel and pick up a new pair of socks.

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End Of The Week #15

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And More!, Nude Dudes

This week, Jimmy Fallon’s house band, The Roots, mooned Michele Bachmann by playing Lyin’ Ass Bitch when she walked on stage. Sweet. And major points to the band. Jimmy’s gone too main stream and apologized after the fact, forgetting he is suppose to be a comedian. And evidently forgetting that Michele is in fact a lyin’ bitch. You know if Stephen Colbert had the chance to pull off that stunt he would have basked in the afterglow.

Meanwhile David Letterman got his butt spanked for apparently going a bit far in discussing Marcus Bachmann’s ‘ex-gay’ clinic in his monologue. CBS deleted the joke from the official web posting of the clip. While discussing the GOP debate Letterman mentioned Michele Bachmann, adding, “And if you’re a homosexual, her husband will take care of ya.”

Wasn’t a good week for either of the asses in the Bachmann house. Fox News’ Todd Stames, disgusted by the musical bitch slap, said, “Could you imagine if the network had pulled a similar stunt with First Lady Michelle Obama or Secretary of State Hillary Clinton?”

Uh, Todd there’s a world of difference between Hillary Clinton and Batshit Crazy Bachmann. What in the hell Bachmann’s handlers were thinking in booking that strange woman on any other show than one hosted by Fox News is beyond me. Republican presidential nominee hopefuls know they are supposed to only appear on FOX; they almost come off as being rational on FOX because it’s a guarantee that the host will be even more of a wack job than they are. Case in point, discussing the UC Davis fiasco with Bill O’Reilly, Megyn Kelly declared that pepper spray is “essentially a food product.”

The cops used pepper spray to break up the local version of an Occupy protest at the university and have come under fire for the abusive use of excessive force. Evidently to FOX News, it was just a food fight. But then you shouldn’t expect much from a network that holds Ronald Regan near to its heart. While President, Regan declared that ketchup qualified as a vegetable for public school lunches, so adding a bit of pepper into the mix can’t be a bad thing. It’s gotta be good for the kiddies.

While brutality against Occupy protesters has become the norm, the incident in California resulted in the police officers involved being suspended and UC Davis Chancellor Linda Katehi’s ass is on the chopping block. Rather than being outraged over the incident, O’Reilly noted, “We don’t have the right to Monday morning quarterback the police.”

You got to respect the talent it takes to talk out of your ass when you’re sitting on it.

T.G.I.B.F.

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And More!, Nude Dudes

With all the hype that surrounds it, even those of you outside of the U.S. have got to know that today is Black Friday. It’s an American holiday during which we celebrate the gods of consumerism and violence, the two things my country still ranks as #1 in.

You’d think that is the reason for it’s name, but that moniker actually stems from the fact that most retailers operate at a loss during the majority of the year, and the profits kick in during the Christmas holiday season. Which starts the day after Thanksgiving. That influx of cash pushes business into the black, hence Black Friday.

For about the last decade, stores and the media have joined forces to add an especially festive note to what was once one of the busiest shopping day of the year. Their efforts pushed the date into the top spot. Staring early in the morning – in some cases as early as 4AM – those with more credit cards than brains head out for a day of swooping up special deals offered by large retailers in an effort to draw customers into their stores. DVD players for $25, Flat screen TV’s for $100 . . . the ‘too good to be true’ promotions entice the unwary into making the early morning trek. The upshot to those is deals is that there are only limited amounts of the special sale merchandise available, so shoppers need to be one of the first into the store to score the cheap booty. Which being America means major fights of riot proportions. Yup, we do greed better than any other place on Earth.

The date has become so popular, and anticipation over hot deals so great, that the retailers themselves are quickly turning Black Friday into a paler shade of grey. This year Walmart is starting their festivities at 10:00 PM on Thanksgiving. And every single person who shows up deserves to be there. Other big box retailers have already started their steep discount sales advertising that there is no longer a need to wait for Black Friday to buy all the things you really can’t afford.

Most Americans have the day off from work. With Thanksgiving (a national holiday) falling the day before, business just shut their doors rather than drag stuffed employees back to the grindstone for a single day. Retail employees are not so lucky. They instead get to start their day of work in the dark early hours of morning. But then anyone stupid enough to work retail has that coming to them. If nothing else, it gives store employees an excuse for the surly attitude that they’ll display throughout the holiday shopping season.

The more sane folk avoid getting anywhere near any sort of retail operation for the day. Staying home snuggled up by the fire and pigging out on leftover turkey sandwiches is a much better use of time. In honor of those homebodies, I give to you my salute to Black Friday:

Monk Shot! #35

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Chiang Mai, Monks, Photography

Studious Concentration

An orgy of saffron. Unusual for me, I asked this novice monk at Wat Pan Tao in Chiang Mai if I could take his photo. Then had to get across I didn’t want him to look at the camera. Or smile. I would have just snapped the shot without asking, but extreme low light required a still subject so I needed his cooperation. He did good. His buddy who happened upon the scene wasn’t in as of a cooperative mood. No problemo. A bit of cropping and the moving monk blur makes for a nice background.

Happy Turkey Day

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And More!

It’s Thanksgiving, time to break out the turkey!

Today in the U.S. is Thanksgiving, a national holiday devoted to eating. It’s really one of our better celebrations and one that the rest of the world misses out on. (Okay, so Canada celebrates the day too, but they hold theirs on the date we celebrate the discovery of America, so it doesn’t really count.)

Tradition holds that the first Thanksgiving celebration was in 1621 in Plymouth, Massachusetts, prompted by a good harvest that was largely due to the native Wampanoag Indians helping the Pilgrims by providing them with seeds and teaching them to fish. The holiday was celebrated on various dates throughout the country until President Lincoln proclaimed the celebration a national holiday in an effort to foster a sense of American unity between the Northern and Southern states. He chose the last Thursday of November for the holiday, which was changed to the fourth Thursday of November by the American Congress during the presidency of Franklin D. Roosevelt.

And don’t forget the Jello!

I think Thanksgiving is the best holiday we have. Even its original meaning – a day to say thanks for the bountiful blessings we enjoy – is difficult to find offense with. Well, except if you are Native American. Then you get to say thanks for the disease and pestilence brought over by our forefathers, and their hungry grab for land which resulted in killing off three-quarters of the Native American population driving those who survived onto small worthless plots of land where they faced a future of poverty, alcoholism, and early death. But other than that, Thanksgiving is all good.

It’s a holiday of traditions, all of which center around eating. Families, friends, and the families we’ve made gather for the day to stuff themselves senseless. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, and cranberry sauce grace almost every table in the country. Side dishes are regional and everyone has their favorite; the dishes we grew up with and which without Thanksgiving would not be complete. Some of those, such as yams with marshmallows, are pretty gross. But not quite as gross as cooks who play around with stuffing recipes.

Ready to stuff.

There are only about three variations of stuffing acceptable with the most far-out being that made with oysters (don’t bitch, I said it was still acceptable). Anyone cooking a Thanksgiving turkey who deviates from the norm should be shot. Sun-dried tomato stuffing will kill a Thanksgiving gathering quicker than Herman Cain can say, “Hey Hootchie Mama! Guess what I’ve got in my pocket for ya!” And Thanksgiving is about turkeys, not pigs so leave that damn bacon in the fridge where it belongs. And just for the record, turkey is supposed to be baked in an oven. Period. If you want to fry something in fat, go get some Snickers bars.

It’s difficult to not be happy on Thanksgiving, as long as no one screwed around with the turkey. Turns out that warm cozy feeling of serenity and good will you have after overeating during your Thanksgiving dinner isn’t just because of the people with whom you shared you day – ‘cuz that often means relatives and a lot of them suck – but rather that turkey contains animal proteins which encourage your brain to produce endorphins. Endorphins are your brain’s painkiller; three times more potent than morphine, they are feel-good chemicals naturally manufactured in your brain that give you a feeling of well-being. Eat a lot of turkey and your brain triggers feelings of happiness, calms anxiety, relieves depression, and helps you sleep better.

Of course, a few shots of Wild Turkey doesn’t hurt either.

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Long Live The King

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Luang Prabang, Wats

Luang Prabang’s National Museum’s Chapel.

“Dat Bullshit.”

Noom – my bar boy friend and current love of my life – wasn’t a happy camper. But then he wasn’t calling me on the veracity of the comment I’d just made either. His concerns were deeper. His problem was with the stupidity of the Lao people for killing off their King and Queen. The very idea, to a Thai, was unthinkable. At best. And worthy of a bit of payback genocide, at the very least.

We were touring the National Museum in Luang Prabang and had just finished going through the Haw Kham, the Royal Palace and former residence of the Lao Royal Family. Before we entered the building Noom had a long talk with the Pha Bang, the 1st century gold Buddha from Sri Lanka displayed there from which the town derives its name. The rest of our tour of the building hadn’t taken long. There wasn’t a lot to see. A few weapons were of mild interest, but safely tucked away behind glass meant they couldn’t be touched. So Noom’s attention waned quickly even on those.

The last room contained gifts sent to the Lao royal family from various countries. The display of shiny baubles caught Noom’s eye. He carefully read each descriptive card, judging the worth of what each country had sent. In his opinion, Thailand had been the most generous. Go figure. I’d like to have defended the honor of my country, but amidst the intricately carved ivory, beautifully crafted silver, and jewel laden boxes, the best the U.S. could do was a small model of the Apollo Lunar Module. Made out of cardboard. I have a strong feeling Nixon had something to do with that. Noom was considerate in not mentioning America’s paucity of generosity.

The Royal Palace @ Luang Prabang’s National Museum

“Like White House,” Noom explained to me – just in case I’d missed the purpose of the building we’d just been through – as we walked out to retrieve our shoes and cameras from the lockers provided for mandatory storage of all personal items. The displays may not have quite measured up to world class standards, but they had the rules of top-notch museums down pat. Though I think the ban on photography had less to do with protecting the artifacts and more to do with a concern that future visitors who’d seen proof of the sparsity of materials on display might decide to pass on touring the place. And pass on forking out the 30,000 kip to do so.

I considered mentioning that it was also just like the Grand Palace in Bangkok, but then that really isn’t the King’s home any longer – even before he took up residence in the hospital – and comparing the brick and mortar abode that was once home to Laos’ king with the spectre of the Grand Palace really was a case of apples and oranges. Not to mention such an association would have pissed Noom off. But his mind tracked to a similar comparison.

“Where King stay now?” Noom asked, assuming as usual I’d have the answer.

Unfortunately, I did.

“They killed the King and Queen,” I told him, not thinking just how poorly that fact would go over with a Thai.

“What!” he exclaimed, thinking perhaps I wasn’t serious and just razzing him as I frequently do.

Oooops. But too late to take that bit of news back, so I explained, “Back in the late 70s, when the Pathet Lao took over, they sent the King, Queen, and Crown Prince to re-education camps and killed them.”

Noom stared at me for a minute, waiting for me to laugh and prove it was a joke. I shook my head to signal that it wasn’t. And hoped he wouldn’t follow up by asking why they’d killed off their royalty. That was an explanation I really couldn’t provide. At least not substantially. But then I can’t explain the stupid things my country does either. Like electing Bush. Either time.

The first flight of stairs to the top of Mount Phousi.

We’d already toured the small gilded wat on the grounds, the Haw Pha Bang, waiting for the handful of other tourists to leave so we could climb up the roped off stairs of the repository of the paladin of the city for a photo op. There was still one more building to see, the Conference Hall, which houses a never ending change of modern displays about Luang Prabang, Laos, and the Laotian People. But Noom had had enough. The death of the royals, even though that’d occurred 30 years earlier, had upset him greatly. We headed over to a near-by wat instead so he could discuss the matter with the Buddha.

That conversation seemed to do the trick and soon all was good in Noom’s world again. We visited a few more wats, all of which involved scaling steep sets of stairs, took a break for a late lunch, and then headed up the almost 1,000 stairs to the top of Mount Phousi.. And another temple, albeit a small one. The real purpose for our climb was to watch the sun set over the sleepy provincial town. It’s what tourists do in Luang Prabang. Though most are smart enough to head back down the unlit stairs before dark.

Neither of us should really be allowed out without supervision. You’d think between the two of us, at least half a brain would be represented. Instead it works the other way and common sense takes a holiday of its own. So we were the last to head downward and by then it was pitch black. Which made for a precarious and tricky passage back to Sisavangvong Road. Reaching the small promenade built atop the retaining wall at street level, we stopped to congratulate ourselves and to admire the well-lit street filled with red topped canopies under which night market vendors took short naps while trying to make a few kip off unsuspecting tourists ready to hand over their hard earned cash for worthless trinkets made in Thailand and Vietnam. Bathed in a golden light behind the tents, the Royal Palace Museum’s wat rose into the night’s sky. A good photo op if there ever was one. We both started snapping shots.

The sun sets over the Mekong

Noom’s adequate yet limited English has settled on the word ‘power’ to cover the spiritual strength of Buddhist shrines, temples, and statues. It’s a very real force in Noom’s world. When we hit a shrine or temple that has power, he has a physical reaction. The hair on his arms stands up. The smoother areas of his arms get chicken skin. If I don’t notice, he’ll point it out. Just so I know I’m in the presence of a powerful piece of Buddhist imagery. He’s also into instant gratification. So after shooting a few photos, he always stops to review his work. And this time he let out a surprised, “Oh!”

Most, but not all of his photos of the wat had eerie spherical shadows in the sky surrounding the temple. I checked to see if they were reflections from street lights, but their placement was off. Plus, they moved from one picture to the next. And where one shot had only one or two of the apparitions, another had more than a dozen. And yeah, I know what they were. I think.

But so did Noom.

He picked out the photo that held the most spots. This one also had two small unexplainable bright lights in it. And he quickly identified them for me. The largest moon-like sphere was the spirit of the King. The much smaller but quite bright light below that was the Queen’s spirit. And the slightly less bright light off to the side was the spirit of the Prince. Even in death they still were in residence at the palace and watching over the Lao people.

Noom’s photo of the Royals.

In his second ‘best’ shot, the one I’m sharing with you here, the King had moved to the side of the wat, the Queen’s bright light had settled near the temple’s roof, and the Prince had transformed into one of the shadowy spheres, hovering midpoint of the Haw Pha Bang.

One man’s religion is another man’s myth. Faith and superstition are easily confused. Our personal belief systems, at their most basic, explain the unexplainable, acknowledge a greater power, and feed the needs of our soul. Noom’s soul had been troubled by the idea that a people would kill their king; an unthinkable event for a Thai. The unusual results of his photography efforts had resolved that concern. And I was afforded a glimpse into his extraordinary world once again.

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