Thai Street Food

Wander Bangkok's streets and you'll experience many things. A full range of sights, sounds, smells. Some rather exotic. Some quite organic. And most sidewalks are populated with vendors peddling a range of foods.

Hey, I've got an idea, let's take time for a quick snack. But hang on here for just a sec. I see insects, spiders, bugs. Everywhere.

Yes, you read correctly. As food. Thais seemingly have developed quite a taste for bugs. I could see what appeared to be steamed or fried water scorpions, diving beetles. Big ones. Grasshoppers, cicadas, crickets. Spiders, scorpions. Rather large larva. Young beetles, I presume. Seasoned. Some with garlic. Accompanied by sticky rice or fried rice. Garnished. No, not ant eggs. Yes. Ala carte. Or, in rice, mixed with other stuff. Perfect. Delicacies. Rich in protein, calories, vitamins and minerals.

I'd say grasshopper tastes like roasted peanut.

First Time Bangkok

There are a whole bunch of people in Bangkok. Locals and tourists. Without doubt, it is Asia’s dominant tourist hot-spot. And by sheer numbers, it must be in the top tier of the world’s most visited destinations. It is also a large air hub, meaning that it’s the region's major tourist gateway. I spent a few days there as a transient while I worked my visa to Vietnam -- a common practice.

Allow me to briefly mention the negatives, for they’re unavoidable. Bangkok’s reputation is famously soiled by its seedier side, even though prostitution is technically illegal there. Rocker Billy Idol’s three-week, $250,000 excursion into hedonism dramatically ended with his forced ejection from Bangkok, carried out by the Thai Army. Addicted to lust, he had refused to vacate his hotel penthouse at the end of his reservation. The good news is that even in Bangkok, there are limits. The other bad news is that Bangkok’s traffic is horrendous. Air and water pollution are major issues -- the water table has also been depleted. Droughts are common. Filth.

Yet, Bangkok is an alluring paradox. It’s perhaps the Orient's most cosmopolitan city; but it seemingly has preserved its cultural heritage. Its urban pace is somewhat relaxed, despite its 20 million-plus population and congested traffic. Religion does not appear to have an influential role in the capital; but one can observe monks walking neighborhoods, collecting alms. I did. And Buddhist temples are scattered throughout the city.

Although this was my first brief introduction to Thai culture, I quickly learned that for Thais, the head is sacred and the foot is foul. Don't point with your foot. Don’t ever step over a person or food. I was advised to never touch anyone on the head, even a child; do not pat people on the back or shoulders; always give up your seat on a bus or train to a monk who is standing; never walk in front of praying Thais in a temple; and beckoning is done with the palm down, fingers waved toward the body. Okay, what else? Are such stark cultural differences captivating?

I read Herman Hesse’s Siddhartha (1922) and Steppenwolf (1927) in school. Hesse’s literary works reveal his fascination with India, Buddhism and an individual's search for spirituality outside of society. Gautama Siddhartha (563-483 BC), The Buddha or the Awakened One, certainly had influenced Hesse's life and writings. As achieving Nirvana is esoteric, cloistered or removed, I expected to find Buddha's influence on Thai culture to be relatively subtle. Thailand has traditionally been characterized by its tolerance for alien religions. I'd expect it to be there, but where? Seek and find. Was this my academic preparation for Bangkok?

What is interesting is that Thailand's religious diversity is literally nonexistent. Roughly 95 percent of the population observes the oldest surviving form of Buddhism (Theravāda, founded in India). The remaining four percent of the population is Muslim, with a fractional mix of other religions, to include Christianity. Therefore, Buddhism permeates Thai culture and its temples are key social and educational institutions -- functioning as school, hospital, dispensary, hostelry, employment and community center. Although there were tourists present, the temples I visited were alive with various locally-oriented activities. Its traditionally high literacy rate, particularly before universal education, was obviously due to temple education.

Adherents to the Theravāda school consider themselves followers of the form closest to Buddhism as it was originally practiced. The spiritual liberation of the individual is its primary focus. Pursuit of the law of Karma. Individuals are considered responsible for their own actions and destiny -- everyone has a specific place. Undertake meritorious acts, avoid those which earn demerits. Cause and effect. Perform this role with a minimum of fuss and hassle. Failure to do so involves a loss of personal dignity -- loss of face. Thais often employ the phrase "never mind or no worries" (mâi pen rai), as a reminder not to risk opposing that which should not be opposed. Find your place, stay there, perform. Lock step.

At some point in their lives, Thai males are expected to train as Buddhist monks. It is a prerequisite for many leadership positions within Thai communities. Likewise, temporary ordination is the norm. The Thai government even allows its civil servants to take fully paid leave to train as monks for three months. And most do at some point -- whether it is for a single rainy season (phansa in Thai) or a few years. During the annual rains, all monks fore go travel and cloister in monasteries. And after this period, most young monks return to lay life, marry and begin families. Young Thai men who reach monastic ordination are viewed as more suitable marriage partners. As a matter of fact, those ordained are referred to as "cooked;" the un-ordained are called "raw." It is as if social position is the result of nurtured karma, not personal achievement. Learn, practice. Here, Siddharthas abound.

Perhaps I had discovered a parallel irresistibility to this place, in the tradition of Hesse -- hopefully for the right reasons. Though I had a basic academic understanding of Buddhism, I think that I had stumbled upon a more practical Buddha. Buddhism's strength in Thailand is linked to the fact that practically all Thai families have at least one ordained male member; its popular form also incorporates elements of Brahmanism, animism, and ancestor worship. What is learned outside of society is carefully integrated within society.

I have to remind myself often that the real lessons in life happen outside the classroom. Academia is static and sterile.

Oh, and the shopping was good.

B-52 Lake, Hanoi

I have recurring visions of the few weeks I spent in Vietnam a few years ago. One is of an an ordinary Hanoi neighborhood, in which there is a small pond. In this pond rest the remnants of a B-52D downed on December 19, 1972. Callsign, Rose 1.

Operation Linebacker II, conducted over 11 days in December 1972 against Communist targets in North Vietnam, was the largest aerial bombardment conducted by the United States Air Force since the end of the Second World War. The entire crew of Rose 1 survived the shootdown and were confined in the infamous Hanoi Hilton (Hoa Lo Prison). They were repatriated. Rose 1 remains -- silent, rusting.

There is little doubt war is one man's of the most destructive activities -- if not the most destructive. Curious, I had to query a willing local on his or her view of America, the belligerent. As I was bartering with a local merchant, his English was good and he seemed more than willing to chat. So I asked him what he thought of Americans. "I do not like America but I like your money."

We tried to change the course of Vietnamese politics with military force, ignoring a thousand years of history and the failure of French colonialism. At what cost? As I drifted through Hanoi's streets, markets, I began to believe it will be market economics, as opposed to military force, that will define both Vietnam's and America's futures. 

Graffiti, Hanoi

I'm not sure I'd classify the street stencils which decorate the flat surfaces in Hanoi as graffito. They are commercial signage for a full range of services -- laborers, goods, and who knows what else. Tight, compact, everywhere. Some places more than others. They must work, given their abundance and seeming permance. Or is it an indication of desperation? There seemed to be no sign of attempts to cover or hide anew.

Whatever the cause, they are a part of Hanoi's street life. I observed absolutely no other attempts to mark, deface, express. This is a regime-driven society. Communism -- everyone obey, follow.

Okay, commercial graffiti. Allowed.

Hanoi's Mannequins

I spent most of my three days in Hanoi within its historic quarter. The street life was very diverse, busy and colorful. People standing, walking. Selling. Squat and have a Coke.

But what seemed a bit out of place were the mannequins. In very modern clothes stores, encased in French colonial buildings. Dilapidated façades. Inside, an over population of adolescent mannequins. Silent chaperons. Distant stares.

Orphaned, begging one to come in. Take us with you. Please.
Surreal. Haunting.

Of Dog and Scooters

The week I spent in Hanoi was anything but what I expected. I had a robust collection of mental images, having grown up watching the CBS Evening news throughout the 1960's and early 70's; I had been strongly impacted by the battlefield death of a young man who attended our church -- I knew his sister and I listened to the numerous adult conversations that erupted at the crest of the tragic news and continued for months after his solemn return and internment; the "Peace Movement" swirled all around me -- in class, in popular culture; from my bike, I literally watched B-52s methodically launch for points west (we lived near an active Air Force base); one of my good friend's brothers spent a tour near Đà Nẵng as a "military" water ski instructor at an officers' club; I certainly was familiar with the anti-communist rhetoric that flooded the American landscape during the duration of the Cold War; I watched the Second Indochina War (1959-1975) bring down President Johnson and torture Richard Nixon; and I had a draft card in my wallet -- I was eligible for and followed the last two draft lotteries with increasingly keen anticipation. So watching the movie "Apocalypse Now" was akin to sensing my cerebral concrete set. The horror.

What was missing, however, was an awareness of Vietnam's long history. Bordered by China to the north, it had broken away in the 10th century and flourished more or less until it was colonized by the French in the mid-19th century. Efforts to resist French domination and then Japanese occupation culminated with Japan's collapse and the failure of France's effort to restore its colonial empire. In a way, America slipped into this Southeast Asian vacuum as it tried to mitigate the post-Second World War collapse of Britain and the emergence of China and the Soviet Union. Divided now into two countries (Geneva Conference, 1954), Vietnam erupted into an ideological civil war -- the Viet Minh in the north backed by the Chinese and Soviets; the United States supporting the South's struggle against the North's communist insurgency.

Upon my arrival, I could see out to the Red River to the northeast as I looked across Hanoi from my 20th floor hotel room window. The French influence in old town was prominent -- from the tree-lined boulevards to prominent French colonial buildings and residences. I later learned that Hanoi was host to the first western universities in Indochina -- a university, a medical school and a school of fine art, established in the first two decades of the 20th century. On the streets below, Vietnamese commerce appeared robust, with individuals (mostly women) coming and going, carrying or pushing sacks or parcels, large and small, on flatbed bicycle or tricycle -- and a few with equal loads hung at the opposing ends of shoulder-borne poles, balanced.

I therefore had to explore a street market next to the hotel -- it appeared full of strange and exotic items, goods such as traditional clothing and hats, hammocks, knives, slippers, tropical fruits. Or at least that is what I thought they were. The smell was sweetly foreign, hinting of dried fruits and candies -- perhaps intertwined with an occasional air of candle or incense or perfume. I browsed, pondered and poked. I also tried to do a bit of mental math as I converted đồng to dollars, dollars to đồng -- without appearing to use my fingers or lip-sink the final result.

As I ventured further into this side street market, the environment turned organic. Aha -- I'm moving from the clothing and knickknack section into the food section. It was at this point that my senses went on the alert. Battle stations. I noticed a trough in the middle of what was now a v-shaped walkway. I was following this trough and I could see increasing moisture ahead. Drainage was seeping from both sides. Forward and to my right, there were live chickens and rabbits, caged. Let's have a look, shall we? No worries -- I had a tin of Altoids in my pocket which could overpower any offensive odor. A few steps and 30 seconds later, I saw a chicken selected, dispatched, de-feathered, wrapped and whisked away for dinner. Yikes! In slow motion, a hose flushed remnants towards me.

I touched my Altoid tin -- and reminded myself to keep moving. I shifted into National Geographic mode -- snap a picture and go -- gawk at the results later. It did not take long for the smell to become overpowering. I stopped and released the "curiously strong" mints. One. Two. Three. "Further back in the mouth and exhale," I instructed myself. "Up through your nose -- mouth closed." I looked and saw dog -- the dog stand. Hot dog! Boiled dog, barbecued dog. Dog, dog, dog. Various sizes, various parts. Pieces here, pieces there. That's a tail, that's a snoot! I held my breath and rapidly stole several pictures -- then fled towards the light at the end of the market.Fast forward, please. Okay.

Further down the street, I found a side walk cafe next to a French colonial house-as-restaurant. Incredible food -- at least half of which I have no idea of what I was partaking. The shrimp were gigantic and fresh. Here, large fans blew a pleasing mist towards patrons to counter the 90-plus degree, 90-percent humidity. Beware the fish sauce, extremely organic. Noted, but late. Could I cleanse my mind or are those market images forever seared deep? I reminded myself that I was in a very colonial French area in old town Hanoi. A couple nearby was kissing. I relaxed into documentary mode. This time, I took many pictures -- and reassured myself, "Edit as I go. Enjoy. Forget. Relax. Breath." Dogs.

On a positive note, I immediately noticed that in Hanoi, if not most of Vietnam, scooters were everywhere. On the taxi ride from the airport to the hotel, I assessed that the scooter-to-car ratio had to be at least ten-to-one, if not more. Mind you, these were not full fledged motorcycles. These were bona fide scooters. Italian scooters -- relatives of those I'd seen throughout the Mediterranean. Now I am sure that there were others -- Japanese, Chinese, or who knows -- knockoffs or copies. What do we do with the fakers?

And every intersection seemingly duplicated the start of a motocross race. Cyclists revved their engines in anticipation of the imminent green light. Bikes were stacked ten, twenty, thirty deep. Men, women, boys and girls, sitting single, double -- with or without extra cargo -- running up their engines in anticipation. And most wore no protection -- no helmets, many flip flops. (I understand that now helmets in Vietnam are mandatory for those that scoot.) As I walked block-to-block, I was amazed at the mass of scooters zipping down streets. How can I count blue cars if there are no cars?

Fine, count blue scooters. The more I looked, the more I observed that there were predominantly two eras of scooter here on the road -- the old and the new. There were newer Honda, Yamaha, Suzuki scooters. But it also appeared that there were many Piaggio Vespas from the 1960s and 70s that were very much in use. And occasionally I spotted a Lambretta or two. What was this? The older bikes looked good and were apparently functional. Color now did not matter -- how could I get one back to the states? And at what cost?

Certainly, I could find a Vietnamese shop to find and restore a Vespa for me. Having instituted free market reforms in 1986, also know as Đổi Mới (renovation), Vietnam has provided a means for commerce with the West -- and for me to get me a 1960s era scooter. One local shop keeper told me that although he despised Americans, he liked our money. It was then that I realized that the loss of more than 50,000 American and upwards to three million Vietnamese souls would shroud Vietnamese and American relations for decades. If not for a millennium.

And the dogs? Scooter!

Piranha

I was introduced to the piranha when I visited Leticia, Colombia. On the Amazon. I quickly discovered that my preconceived notions of the fabled carnivorous fish were quite askew. In an area where the borders of Brazil, Colombia and Peru connect, piranha are a popular food. The piranha is often caught and sold for food in local markets. And dried specimens are sold as souvenirs to tourists. Wait, I thought it was the other way around? We’re the food, right?

Is the piranha mystique then legend? It is rumored that local Amazons, to guarantee a good show for the an adventurous Teddy Roosevelt, while on a hunting trip, blocked off a portion of the Amazon river with nets and released hordes of starving piranhas. They then tossed a dismembered cow into the river, setting off a wild feeding frenzy. Cow, instantly skeletonized. Wait -- a well orchestrated show for a VIP? No, never.

Roosevelt declared the fish evil, and the media traveling with him quickly spread the news. Flesh eating fish. Your flesh, so don't slip. Hollywood, smiling.

Locals told me that they were not concerned about the piranha. Piranha nibble -- each other. Ouch, that was my fin. There are larger, more lethal dangers lurking in the Amazon. In the water. On land.

Buy a piranha souvenir. Okay.

Leticia's Market

Markets define locales. My experience has been that if one wants to obtain an immediate feel for a place, walk its market. The market place in Leticia, Colombia, located on the bank of the Amazon, is no different. Except for the fact that a majority of its shoppers arrive by boat. This market place was obviously representative of the fruits of the Amazon -- fruits, vegetables and meats.

Leticia

If you ever make it to Leticia, Colombia, you will feel as if you've traveled to one of the more remote destinations on Earth. Reachable only via a 2-hour commercial flight from Bogota (Aerorepublica), this tropical town is the gateway to virgin tropical rain forests and several indigenous Amazonian tribes. For me, my visit to Leticia was my personal "National Geographic" moment.

Given its locale, it is surprising that Leticia has a population of over 35,000 inhabitants. It sits on the northern bank of the Amazon River and is the capital city of the state of Amazonas. The Brazilian frontier and the neighboring town of Tabatinga are very close to the east; Peru begins on the opposite bank of the Amazon.

As a last vestige of civilization, Leticia obviously has an airport, as well as a hospital, several hotels and restaurants. Telephone and Internet service are surprisingly good. But beyond the city's borders, it is literally the law of the jungle.

If you need a taste of nature in its purest form, Leticia is an impressive destination.

Turkey's Lycian Way

I have several friends and acquaintances who have transversed Turkey's Lycian Way. One of my friends, who is an amateur entomologist, spent a summer collecting insects along the trail and even discovered a new specie of ground beetle. But what caught my attention was the fact that The Sunday Times has listed the Lycian Way as one of the top ten walks in the world.

The Lycian Way is 500 km hiking trail which stretches from Fethiye to Antalya, around part of the coast of ancient Lycia. Let me think about this. I can wander along territory which was once the Lycian League -- the cities of Xanthos, Patara, Myra, Pinara, Tlos and Olympos and Phaselis?

Okay. The Lycian Way is now on my "to do list."

Saint Peter's Castle

Asia Minor is home to an abundance of historic Medieval fortifications. The Castle of Saint Peter (Petronium), located in the southwestern Turkish city of Bodrum, is a prime example. Built by the Knights Hospitaller in response to the threat of invasion by the Seljuk Turks at the beginning of the 1400s, its location has been a fortified site since 1100 BC. It is also the probable site of the King of Caria's Palace of Mausolos.

As was a common practice of the period, marble columns and reliefs from the nearby ancient structures were used during the construction of the castle. Unfortunately this included materials from the Mausoleum of Maussollos, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Although a few sculptures from the mausoleum were integrated into the castle for decoration, which justify a visit, in less than a century and a half, all remaining portions of the mausoleum had been demolished, removed or used as a building materials.

Within the castle walls, each regional sub-group of the Order had its own tower, each with its own distinct style. Hundreds of coats of arms and unique marks are scattered throughout the fortification -- symbols signifying areas assigned for maintenance and defence. Sub-orders were responsible for manning these areas with sufficient numbers of their soldiers and knights.

For over a century Saint Peter's Castle was an important castle of the Order and it served as a fortified refuge for all Asia Minor's Christian community. Today, given Bodrum's hot summers and mild winters, it is a perfect refuge for the intrepid traveller.

Graffiti, Belgium

Würstel Stand

Street food in Vienna, Austria, is special. Würstel stands -- hot dogs. In the bun or not. I prefer würstel without the bun. Whole or sliced. With mustard. Sauer kraut, bread. Stand and eat. Then move on. Hits the spot.

Vang Stave Church

The Vang Stave Church (Świątynia Wang), located in Karpacz in Poland's Karkonosze Mountains, was originally built in the Vang parish, Norway, around 1200. When the parish built a larger, more suitable church, it was sold and re-erected on the Continent in 1842. This structure is an 800-year old four-post single-nave stave wood church. Exquisite. Easily reached by car from Dresden, Prague or Wroclaw.