Maybe Next Trip

Author: jonathanholburt

  • Easter Island’s Moai Stand Sentry Over a Land of Haunting Beauty and a Haunted Past

    Ahu Tongariki giants

    The first thing you notice about Easter Island’s moai, the iconic volcanic stone statues modeled after stern all seeing elders, is that they look inward. I was struck by that because they seem to stand sentry over the island and all the sentries that I have ever seen, in person, movies and artwork, always look outward. That’s because the threat is always from without. In the case of Easter Island, 2,075 kilometers from the nearest inhabited islands, Pitcairn, and one of the most isolated places on earth, there was no credible threat for centuries from the outside world. What ripped apart this remote outpost of humanity was tribal competition for scarce resources that led to grave civilization and moai toppling conflict. The wooden moai kavakava statues, with their emaciated bodies and visible ribcages, are an indication of this island’s traumatic past. What Easter Island’s moai seem to be telling us with silent, somewhat aloof gazes is that what ailed this idyllic land could be a harbinger for the rest of us. Literally, all of us.

    Sunset over Tahai moai

    Not Near Anywhere

    Moai at Playa Anakena

    A UNESCO World Heritage site, Easter Island, a part of Chile, is so far from anywhere else that you have to really, really want to visit to get here. Only Latam Airlines flies there, landing at a runway that was built to accommodate the Space Shuttle in case of an emergency. The five-hour 3,756 kilometer flight from Santiago is over water, only water, once it leaves South America’s coast. The tropical triangular shaped island one fifth the size of Singapore, 22 kilometers long by 11 kilometers wide, with inactive volcanoes anchoring its three corners, sits serenely in what seems like an endless undulating azure ocean. Black volcanic cliffs drift downwards to rocky coasts and the lone powdery white sand beach, Playa Anakena, where moai turn their backs on bathers. With a population of about 7,000 and just one town, Hanga Roa, hugging a small harbor of fishing boats and a swimming area where children frolic in clear water, it really is a get away from it all destination in the most extreme sense. Internet connections, when available, are weak and slow at best. Disconnecting from the rest of the world though unclutters your mind to try and connect the dots in this mystic, mysterious land that poses far more questions than there are answers.

    Moai near Hanga Roa

    Ruinous Conflict

    Known as Isla de Pascua among Chileans and Rapa Nui among the islanders, it was settled around the 5th century AD. No one is quite sure about the date though. Hotu Matu’a was the first leader of the Hanau Momoko people. Known as the “short ears,” they shared the island with the Hanau Eepe people, known as the “long ears.”  After centuries of peaceful coexistence where they created the immense moai that they transported to huge ahus, or altars, where they were worshipped, a war of existential annihilation took place sometime between the 16th and 18th centuries. Did it occur because the island had been had been stripped of its economically important forests? Or, were too many people squeezed onto too small a land to support their population? No one really knows although there are plenty of theories.  Moai were tipped onto their faces or backs, colossal rust-colored top knots known as pukao rolling away from the altars and sinking over time into the soil. Most of this conflict occurred before the arrival of the Europeans. It was known as the Huri Moai period.

    Fallen moai and pukao

    Dutch admiral Jacob Roggeveen named the island on Easter Sunday 1722 after landing there. Felipe Gonzalez de Haedo claimed it for Spain in 1770. In 1774 English Captain James Cook saw the similarities between Rapa Nui and the rest of Polynesia. He also reported on the toppled moai, damaged ahu and a people he felt were broken by a long, vicious conflict.

    Moai giant emerging from stone

    Birdman Cult

    Symbol of Birdman cult in the Catholic Church

    Cook observed that the moai, whose spiritual strength was derived from ancestor worship, had lost their power and were replaced by the Birdman cult. Every year at the cliff side settlement of Orongo, warriors climbed down a thousand foot drop and swam to a rocky outcrop called Moto Nui where they collected the first eggs of the season from the sooty tern. The first warrior to collect an egg then swim and climb back to Orongo was anointed the Birdman. He went into seclusion for a year and the tribe he came from was considered the most powerful during his reign. The annual egg collecting contest led to many deaths with warriors falling from cliffs or being attacked by sharks. In the early 1860s missionaries ended the cult.

    Orongo stone dwelling

    Today, the squat, elliptical-shaped stone dwellings of Orongo have been restored, clinging to the top of a wind whipped corner of the island’s largest volcano, Rano Kau. Petroglyphs of bird figures are on stones leading to the volcano and the obstacle course that the warriors had to traverse during the annual competition. The volcano’s crater is filled with murky water and tortora reeds, giving it a swampy look. It’s easy to see how this forbidding place imparted a sense of foreboding to those who didn’t participate in the annual competition. And those who did.

    Traditional Rapa Nui dwelling
    Rano Kai volcano

    The island’s tragic history continued after the ending of the Birdman cult with a raid by Peruvian slave traders in 1862 followed by a smallpox epidemic that reduced the population to only 111 by 1877. Chile annexed the island in 1888.

    Petroglyhs in Orongo

    Moai as Masters of Yesterday and Today

    Where the warriors collected the Sooty Tern’s eggs

    While the Birdman cult with its primary god of Makemake gave the islanders emotional and spiritual wings to escape from a war devastated land, it’s the moai that reminded them of their ancestry. And what went right. And what went wrong.

    Rana Raraku moai stuck in time

    While moai can be seen all over the island, the ahus and the statues that stand or lay on them are primarily found along the coast. Access to the sea was a source of power for the ruling classes. In the site of Papa Vaka, petroglyphs of sea life such as tuna and sharks, as well as fishhooks and canoes, indicate how important the sea was to the Rapa Nui people and why locating moai near it mattered.

    Those inward looking moai seemed to be supporting the temporal rules of their flesh and blood descendants. Their role was to visibly establish the ancestry of each tribe as well as to demonstrate the power and organizational skills of the tribe. Size equated with power.  After all, if you wanted to go to war with a tribe, how confident would you be if you knew those moai had their back and not yours? And moai are intimidating in size. The average statue is four meters high and weighs thirteen tons. And they’re made of one piece of stone. Their heads, noses, ears and arms are proportionally too large, at times elongated, making them seem appear even larger. The statues generally only show the torso.

    A site where the moai make you contemplate what really happened here is Ahu Tongariki, the island’s largest ahu, with fifteen imposing standing moai. They seem like a mini-army of not from this earth superheroes that dwarf you. Long, interlocking fingers etched into the stone at the bottom of the statues contribute to this otherworldly look. How could the civilization that produced this not exist anymore? Nearby, at the site of Te Pito Kura, is the largest moai ever moved. At nearly 80 tons and 10 meters in height with a pukao that weighs 12 tons, it was one of the last statues knocked down, which happened in the late 1830s. It lays face down in the ground as if it was pushed from behind.

    Rano Raraku moai

    South Seas’ Sphinxes

    From both Ahu Tongariki and Te Pito Kura you can see the quarry workshop of Rano Raraku. Strolling over the grassy slopes of the huge site with its dozens of moai displayed in a haphazard way is to experience the center of religious megalithism in Polynesia. It’s a surreal place where the artistry and ambition of the island’s ancient inhabitants left an indelible mark on the island and the world. Each moai communicates an opaque, inscrutable sense of authority like South Seas Sphinxes. Visible too are moai that were left unfinished as they were being brought to life from the rock face. The largest of these unfinished moai is 21 meters high and estimated to weigh 270 tons. What stopped it from being moved? Size? Or, war?

    And, of course, you can’t help asking the question that thousands before have: How did a low tech, small population of maybe 17,000 people move those colossal stone statues? Did they lay the statues on wooden sleds that were rolled on tree trunks? Is that why the moai backs are always straight and the island was stripped of its forests? Or did they “walk” them by moving each part of the statue bit by bit with ropes? The island isn’t flat which made getting them anywhere difficult no matter what technique they used. No one knows.

    Where the Island’s History Began

    After a day of visiting moai I ended up at the place where the island’s history began, the palm tree fringed beach where legendary founder Hanu Motu’a stepped ashore after a journey of thousands of miles over open ocean in a canoe. An ahu with five moai and another with one are at the edge of the beach, iridescent water lapping the shore behind them. Their presence conveys a haunting sense of the past that is ever present.

    As I soaked in the ocean I wondered what was next for this island. Tourism was bringing wealth but also tensions. An estimated 100,000 tourists visit every year, which doesn’t sound like a lot until you realize that’s 14 times the size of the population. For a small island with little land to dispose of waste and a need to import much of its food, tourism helps many people. But not all.

    Moai by Playa Anakena

    The moai, impervious to the tourists who gape at them, seem to know that when resources are limited everyone must learn to live together. Or else, apocalyptic warfare can erupt. That happened before on Easter Island. And on an earth with diminishing resources, increasing population and pollution, it may happen to the world at large. Maybe that’s the real reason the moai turn their backs on the world. They don’t want to witness what may happen next.

    It’s time to learn from Easter Island before it’s too late.

    Ahu Tongariki moai

    Travel Tips:

    Seaview Restaurants:

    As Easter Island is surrounded by ocean a great dining option is a meal with a seaview. Two restaurants that hit the spot are:

    Au Bout du Monde: elegantly prepared seafood.

    Restaurante Hani-Hani: a casual restaurant with innovative sushi and pizzas.

    Where to Stay:

    There are numerous good quality guest houses within the town of Hanga Roa. They are easily booked on Booking.com.

    Hanga Roa’s swimming area

    Permit:

    While Easter Island is part of Chile, the Latam Airlines flights depart from Santiago airport’s international terminal. You have to fill out a Unique Entry Form to the island either online prior to flying or at the airport. It’s part of a 2018 policy instituted to manage the number of visitors to the island for a more sustainable environment. In addition to the form a return ticket and a confirmed accommodation on the island is necessary.

    Forbidding Easter Island coastline

    Admission to the Parque Nacional Rapa Nui:

    You can purchase the ticket for the Parque Nacional Rapa Nui at the airport before you collect your bags. The ticket is USD80, good for ten days and gives you access to all of the sites on the island.

    Getting there:

    Only Latam Airlines flies to Easter Island from Santiago and Papeete, Tahiti. Some cruise ships also stop there.

    Anakena Beach
    Catholic church with decorated with petroglyph designs

    Published in Asian Journeys magazine, April-May 2019

  • Sultry Havana Seduces the Present with its Storied Past

    Havana Cathedral

    The shimmering red coloured ’51 Chevy convertible roared away from the square in the Spanish colonial-era Parque Central, down the 1920s-era El Prado, sun glinting from its chrome, wind whipping through my hair, careened through the Castro-era harbor tunnel before coming to a belching halt in front of the 16th century fort known as El Morro. Founded in 1519, Havana is the youngest acting 500-hundred-year old I’ve ever met.

    The fort and its lighthouse, along with the Castillos de San Salvador and de la Fuerza on the opposite side of the harbour, guarded Havana for centuries before the 1762 British invasion. Spain signed away Florida to get Havana back and La Cabana fort was built from 1763 to 1774 to close the gap the British exploited to invade the city. It was the largest Spanish fortress in the Americas with the harbour facing wall stretching 700 meters and its area covering 10 hectares. Its size is intimidating.

    El Morro Fortress

    Half of my heart is in Havana

    In her song, Havana, Camila Cabello sings: “Half of my heart is in Havana.”  Stroll through Havana Vieja, a UNESCO heritage site, and yours will be too. Ages and musical styles collide: Buildings spanning Baroque, colonial and Art Deco eras, quartets practicing classical music at Convento de San Francisco, and choirs singing melodies in churches. Bands at bars and restaurants play Cuban favorites near 2019 Havana Biennial art pieces that interpret this storied city. Occasionally, throngs of cruise passengers flood the Plaza Vieja or Plaza Armas to glimpse what was once the New World’s most cosmopolitan metropolis. The palace the Museo de la Ciudad is in, completed in the 1770s, shows what the vast unequal wealth of the Spanish era looked like, while Havana Cathedral, finished in 1787, shows its intense religiosity.

    But the district is a work in progress. Decayed, even collapsing buildings, line many streets. At night, lack of street lighting juxtaposed with people escaping their too hot homes for the relative coolness of the squares gives the city a sultry yet somewhat sinister feel, an aura of expectation. Sepia toned light spilling from the buildings makes you feel like you are in another age.

    Many of Havana Vieja’s residents from previous centuries are buried in the gothic Necropolis Cristobal Colon in Vedado, huge mausoleums for the wealthiest families casting shadows that lengthen with the day. Its neo-Romanesque Capilla Central is where last respects are paid.

    Mausoleum at Necropolis Cristobal de Colon in Vedado

    Hemingway was here, here, even there

    American writer Ernest Hemingway was one of Havana’s most beloved figures. His home, now a museum in the suburb of San Francisco de Paula, has open windows and doors you look into to get a sense of his life. Shelves of books are everywhere, even next to the toilet. Heads of game animals line the walls in every room, so many you wonder if Hemingway was a little too proud of his prowess in the blood sport of hunting. To escape trespassing reporters in the ‘40s and ‘50s he built a tower for privacy so he could work. It provided a perch where he could contemplate Havana as a distant glittering Oz.

    A legendary drinker, Hemingway provided this endorsement: “My mojito in La Bodeguita. My daiquiri in El Floridita.” The result: Mobs of drinkers in both establishments every night. La Bodeguita claims to be the birthplace of the mojito. Numerous celebrities have left their autographs on the wall outside, protected under plastic. Everyone else just writes their name where they can, leaving a graffiti scrawl both outside and inside of the establishment. The upscale La Floridita, with a doorman outside, is a more dignified place to follow in the writer’s footsteps. A statue of Hemingway is in the corner looking across the bar. Down at the docks, down at the heels Dos Hermanos bar, founded in 1894, was also frequented by Hemingway as well as Marlon Brando and Errol Flynn.

    La Floridita for daiquiris

    Gaudi meets Chagall

    In a city so artfully constructed one artist stands out. In the Jaimanitas district Jose Fuster has turned his home and immediate neighborhood into a larger than life canvas for his art. With work that can be described as Chagall meets Gaudi, Fuster’s multi-hued house translates the Caribbean sun and vibrant Cuban spirit into fluid shapes that seem ready to embrace you. The 72-year old artist still lives here and sells his paintings in its gallery. I bought one of his vases.

    Jose Fuster house

    Stroll from soul to heart

    To get a feel of the city’s newer heart it’s best to stroll from the pulsing energy of the Vedado district’s Universidad de la Havana where students congregate under luxurious Ceiba trees down the steps past the seated, welcoming Alma Mater statue to the Hotel Nacional, former 1940s and 50s headquarters for the American mafia. Meyer Lansky and Lucky Luciano held court here. The towering art deco hotel, opened in 1930, and styled after Palm Beach’s the Breakers, is a place to pause for a Cuba Libre on the verandah while the tropical breeze washes over you. Winston Churchill, John Wayne and Frank Sinatra are among the many celebrities who may have sat here.

    Hotel Nacional

    Near the hotel, by the sea, is the memorial to the sinking of the USS Maine, when 238 American sailors lost their lives. The US blamed Spain for the sinking and started the Spanish-American war in 1898. At the war’s conclusion Cuba gained its independence and the US acquired the Philippines, Guam and the Mariana Islands as its first colonies.

    Monument to the victims of the USS Maine

    The Malecon, Havana’s seaside drive, is the natural congregation point for many residents with its opportunity to fish and alluring sea breezes making it a good place to gather and chat and just cool off. Since I was there during the Havana Biennial some of the provocative art displayed was definitely talked about. From the Malecon I headed up El Prado, the European style pedestrian promenade guarded by bronze lions and flanked by some of Havana’s most elegant buildings, including the Hotel Sevilla where I stayed. Al Capone and Josephine Baker were regulars. Graham Greene made it a setting for his book, Our Man in Havana. And yes, Hemingway was there too.

    On the other side of the Hotel Sevilla is the Museo de la Revolucion, previously the presidential palace. Completed in 1920, it was where the dictator Fulgencio Batista lived and Fidel Castro took power in December 1958. Tiffany’s decorated the interior. The museum provides the government perspective on Cuban history. Behind it is the leisure yacht Granma encased in a glass pavilion that is clouded by humidity. Castro and 81 compatriots sailed on the Granma from Mexico in December 1956 to start their revolution.

    Museo de la Revolucion

    From there it’s a short walk to Parque Central, Havana’s cultural and political center. The Bellas Artes museum and the Gran Teatro de la Alicia Alonso are on two sides of the square while nearby is the massive Capitolio, patterned after the US capital in Washington DC. Prowling the square are so many mint condition American Chevys, Chryslers and Buicks from the ‘50s and ‘60s, now taxis, you feel you have stepped into a time warp. Russian imports like the Lada and Mosvitch, trishaws, horse carts, motorcycles with and without sidecars and two-seater bubble shaped bici-taxis create a vehicular menagerie that barely hangs together on the city’s cobblestoned and pot holed streets.

    Bici Taxi

    Cuban cigars to cuisine

    At the Real Fabrica de Tabacos Partagas factory I saw the fine motor skills that go into the making of cigars from the selecting of the tobacco leaves to the very tight rolling of them. It’s tedious and repetitive work on hard benches. Now that the industry is owned by the government numerous brands are made at each tobacco factory in the country. I saw Cohiba, Romeo y Julietta and yes, Partagas cigars made there. I decided to smoke a Romeo y Julietta Churchill after the tour. Like all premium cigars, the ash was firm and didn’t drop off until there was more than an inch of it. The cigar was so potent I knew I needed a long lunch at La Guarida restaurant in Centro Havana to recover. I climbed past a decapitated statue at the start of a sweeping staircase until I reached the third floor of the dilapidated mansion where an artfully funky space overlooked a street in the throes of gentrification. The watermelon gazpacho with strawberry and shrimp was refreshing and removed the cigar taste. The freshly caught longfin tuna with sugarcane, coconut and seafood sauce was perfectly prepared. Cuban cuisine has definitely arrived.

    Entrance to La Guarida restaurant

    Music all day, all night

    Music and dance are an integral part of Cuban life. Children learn the intricate dance steps of danzon, mambo and chachacha that are second nature to them and completely alien to someone like myself.

    I visited the La Zorra El Cuervo Jazz Club, accessed speakeasy style through a British red telephone booth, and down steps to a basement space. The band, with a female vocalist, had a sassy energy that got people dancing at their chairs.

    The bar at La Zorra El Cuervo Jazz Club

    I watched the world-famous Buena Vista Social Club play on the top floor of a 19th century commercial building near the Capitolio. Singers strolled amongst the crowd as they sang Cuban favorites like Chan Chan and Candela.

    Buena Vista Social Club

    From Rum to Rumba

    Pre-Castro Havana was famous for nightclubs that started late and went all night. At the Hotel Nacional’s Parisen Cabaret dancers with flawless bodies wore outlandish headgear that could have been designed by Salvador Dali for an Aztec religious ceremony. If I told Freud that I had a dream with them in it he probably would have chomped hard on his Cuban cigar and clicked his fingers for an aide to bring a strait jacket. But I wasn’t dreaming this performance nor alone in gulping my mojito and asking for another. After the show, a dancer in a slinky red dress and sky-high stilettos navigated the steps from the stage to ask me to dance.

    Parisien Cabaret

    Fortified with plenty of rum, and despite two left feet, I was ready to rumba.

    And that’s how Havana works its magic. With half my heart in the city I know I have to return someday to reclaim it.

    Convento de San Francisco quartet

    Travel Tips:

    Restaurants:

    -Dona Eutima next to Plaza de la Catedral for the best traditional Cuban food. The Ropa Vieja, shredded beef, balanced flavors and textures perfectly. Reservations essential.

    -Jibaro near the Iglesia y Convento de Santa Clara for innovative Cuban food. Mashed plantains as a dip with fried plaintains to scoop it; shredded pork in a coconut sauce atop rice surrounded by a moat of black bean puree; for dessert, guava topped with cheese.

    Capitolio
    Ceiling Museo Bellas Artes
    Jose Marti Monument

    Places to Stay:

    -Hotel Sevilla, built in 1908, has huge rooms with high ceilings and a buffet breakfast on the 9th floor with unhindered 360-degree views of Havana.

    -There are numerous casas particulares, independent hotels, which have excellent accommodations.

    Gran Teatro de la Habana
    Edificio Bacardi
    Jose Fuster art

    Museums:

    -In a city filled with museums my favourites were: the Bellas Artes for paintings; Museo Napoleonico, with mementos from Napoleon, including his death mask, in a lavishly restored palace across from the Universidad de la Havana; Museo Hemingway; and, Museo de la Ciudad on Plaza Armas to experience an exquisitely restored Spanish palace.

    El Ojo del Ciclon gallery
    Even the towels have colour

    Bars:

    -El Dandy on Calle Brasil for a chilled vibe underneath a giant painting of El Dandy himself.

    -The rooftop terrace of Ingleterra Hotel for a sweeping view of Parque Central and Centro Havana.

    Currency:

    -Cuba has two currencies: the CUC$, used by foreigners; and pesos (MN$), used by locals. It is primarily a cash-dependent country so arrive with plenty of cash. US credit cards are not accepted here at all.

    What not to be worried about:

    -Before I went I read about the jineteros, touts. I didn’t find them that prevalent and when I declined politely to whatever they were selling they moved on. Havana struck me as safe. Just use the usual precautions.

    Published in Asian Journeys magazine, June-July 2019

  • The Road to Myanmar’s Golden Heart

    I’ve been travelling to Myanmar since 1981 and it was quite unlike any procession I had ever seen: groups of men surrounding boys atop richly adorned horses and kept comfortable under the shade of golden parasols. The men, retainers more like, walked beside them in the baking March sun.  The boys wore lush embroidered silk outfits of pale pink or golden yellow, with headgear befitting a prince, while the men wore simple shirts and dark-patterned longyi.  Behind the boys were flower-bedecked horse carts carrying young girls under frilly parasols of pink, white, pale green. The procession stretched for hundreds of meters followed by a travelling band playing on a flatbed truck.

    BUDDHIST INITIATION RITES

    What my wife and I witnessed was part of the shinbyu, the initiation ceremony for monks that is a rite of passage for Buddhist boys in Myanmar. The first step is to re-enact the privileges of the Buddha as prince before he rejects the royal life in exchange for one of self-denial.

    Further down the road we saw boys who had already rejected their princely lives in favor of the simple existence of monks, their heads shaven, wearing plain brown robes and simple sandals, waving fans to cool themselves from the heat, temperatures above 30 C the day we saw them. Following them were dozens of girls in pale pink robes, carrying tin alms bowls, cloths draped over their heads to keep themselves cool.

    There were hundreds of boys and girls, all in a line, all along the road that stretched from the capital Yangon to the Golden Rock temple in the south of the country.

    The 210 kilometers from the traffic-clogged colonial-era city of Yangon to Golden Rock temple, also known as Kyaiktiyo Pagoda, is a journey to the golden heart of the country. Along the road I witnessed a microcosm of its spiritual side.

    HIGHEST PAGODA IN MYANMAR

    At Bago, the midway point, we visited the Shwemawdaw pagoda, the highest pagoda in Myanmar at 114 meters, higher even than the Shwedagon pagoda in Yangon. Also known as the Golden God pagoda it is over a thousand years old, and reportedly contains hair and tooth relics of the Buddha. The pagoda dominates Bago and the surrounding plains with its golden spire contrasting against an impossibly blue sky the day I saw it. A young monk struck an enormous bell with a large wooden stick. Worshippers spent time in contemplation near the pagoda, staying in the shade.

    Shwemawdaw Pagoda

    One of the challenges of visiting Myanmar temples is enjoying them while walking barefoot on ground that can sometimes be achingly hot. During the March April hot season we employed a strategy of lingering in the shade, and moving fast when not.

    As we left the pagoda via the covered walkway steps we saw iridescent green rice cakes for sale by a girl with a face thickly covered by thanaka, a yellowish sunscreen created by ground bark that looks somewhat like kabuki make-up.  There were hundreds of red bags of rice stacked on tables as donations to the temple. Just outside the pagoda I stopped by a woman with a cage of twittering sparrows. For less than a dollar, I bought three to release into the air. According to Buddhist belief, each bird you release earns you merit and symbolizes the letting go of your troubles. I’m not sure anyone’s troubles can so easily disappear but it did feel good letting the birds fly from my palms into freedom.

    SECOND LARGEST BUDDHA IN THE WORLD

    Nearby was the Shwethalyaung Buddha, which at a length of 55 meters and a height of 18 meters is the second largest Buddha in the world. Built in 994, its colossal size with an almost unreal serenity makes it a stop you want to spend time in. I wasn’t alone in feeling that way. Hundreds were there not just to look and move on but to stay and pray. Beneath the Buddha and along the temple’s wire enclosure were plaques with the names and amounts from donors all around the world.

    Shwethalyaung Buddha

    Before leaving Bago, we stopped at the 27 meter high Kyaik Pun pagoda, where four gargantuan Buddha images sat ramrod straight against a massive square-shaped brick pillar. The pagoda was reportedly built by King Migadippa of Bago in the 7th century and renovated by King Dhammazedi in 1476. However, a folk story has it that it was originally built by four sisters vowing to be single. But the youngest one broke her vow. The statue of that sister is on the southwest corner where monsoon winds and rain regularly lash it. With alabaster white skin, glinting gold robes set against the ochre and faded pink of the pillar the four Buddhas looked like sentinels and must have conveyed how powerful the Mon kingdom was at its apex.

    Kyaik Pun Pagoda

    LAST LEG TO GOLDEN ROCK

    To reach the Golden Rock temple we transferred at the town of Kim Pun from our van to a packed open-backed truck with seats in the back. For a little bit more you can ride up front with the driver. We decided to splurge! Each of the trucks had their own name. Ours was called Fuso Fighter.

    During the eleven-kilometer drive up on a steep, single lane road to an elevation of about 1,000 meters the drivers were quick to punch the accelerator or hit the brake! Lurching wildly from side to side I realized that having a bit of faith helped on this last leg of the journey.

    At the top, we felt the buzz of anticipation from pilgrims and monks. Young men with baskets offered to carry the pilgrims’ belongings. For those in very poor shape, four young men would carry the pilgrims themselves on makeshift sedan chairs, a concoction of cloth with bamboo poles. The people in those certainly seemed comfortable. Most pilgrims just joined the quiet crowd making their way to the pagoda. Monks walked in a line with their alms bowls.

    Along the kilometer long path shops sold everything from bottles of herbal concoctions to freshly cooked dishes to musical instruments to amulets to gold leaf to paste on the Golden Rock itself.  For a thin filament of gold it’s about a dollar fifty.

    THIRD MOST IMPORTANT BUDDHIST PILGRIMAGE SITE IN MYANMAR

    The pagoda itself is small, about 6 meters in height. It sits on top of an enormous gold-covered granite boulder that looks like it’s just about to tip over and roll down the mountain. But it doesn’t fall, even though it’s nearly halfway off the ledge it has been on for eons and is some eight meters in height and 611 tons in weight. Legend has it that a hermit kept strands of the Buddha’s hair and then when he was dying, looked for a suitable place to hide it. He saw the loose boulder, Golden Rock, and built the small stupa on top where the strands of hair are kept inside. The pagoda was built in 574 BC.

    It is the third most important Buddhist pilgrimage site in Myanmar, after Shwe Dagon pagoda and Mahamuni pagoda in Mandalay.

    The energy around the Golden Rock was palpable. Worshippers — and only men were allowed — pasted gold leaf at the base of the boulder.  Fragments frequently floated away on the breeze, catching the sun’s light as they did so. There was no fence or barrier of any kind between the base of the rock and a drop of easily ten meters. I asked our guide if anyone had ever fallen and she said no.  Yet, as men’s feet were literally inches from the ledge it certainly looked risky, even if you didn’t suffer from vertigo.

    I took steps down and soon I was looking up at the rock in more ways than one. The sense was that the rock was going to do something, take some action, yet it stayed absolutely still. It’s easy to understand why people are quickly mesmerized by it.  Some worshippers bowed to it. Others quietly put their hands together, closed their eyes and meditated. I watched as the sun set behind it, the valley glowing beneath it. Soon, the area was lit with hundreds of candles, casting a flickering glow on the Golden Rock that animated it, giving it a life of its own.

    Near the approach to the Golden Rock temple were numerous glass cases filled with bills, donations to the temple. Women sat and prayed under bare bulbs. Still further back people laid out mats and even set up tents, preparing to sleep there for the night so that they could worship at the Golden Rock at dawn.

    I had not seen this level of religious intensity in my previous visits to Myanmar. The Golden Rock temple struck me as truly Myanmar’s golden heart, combining electric engagement with worshippers with an unnerving stillness. It was both timeless and in step with the times.

    HOW TO GET HERE FROM YANGON

    From Yangon you can take a bus but I recommend renting a van and guide and taking your time.  Not only are there the temples in Bago but there is the Allied War Cemetery near Htauk Kyant where you can read the poignant epitaphs   families had engraved on their loved ones gravestones.

    If you go straight from Yangon — and happen to miss the city’s traffic — it will take between three to four hours to get there.

    CULINARY HEART TOO

    And of course, don’t miss the food. This part of Myanmar is its culinary heart too. Myanmar food takes hours to cook, bringing out the sometimes pungent flavours of the ingredients. At the roadside restaurants people would quickly eat dishes that had taken a morning to prepare. Among others, there’s mohinga, a rice noodle fish soup, stone pumpkin soup with chicken, and fermented bamboo shoot soup. It’s not a well-known cuisine so your chance to experience at its best is here.

    Mark Twain once said, “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do.” As remote as it was, a visit to the Golden Rock temple was well the effort to get there. It wasn’t just a journey to Myanmar’s golden heart, but a glimpse into the spiritual heart of the nation.

    Published in Asian Journeys magazine, October-November 2015

  • Mulu’s Many Mighty Wonders: the UNESCO World Heritage Area Impresses with Above and Below Ground Sites

    World’s Largest Canopy Walk at Gunung Mulu National Park

    The World’s Largest Canopy Walk

    I was staring at a green viper while perched some thirty meters above the jungle floor on a suspension bridge the width of two narrow planks of wood and with the stability of a trampoline that a five year old had just jumped on. Luckily, the viper didn’t stare back. My son, just behind me, hurriedly me along so he could have a stare too. At 480 metres, the Mulu Canopy Skywalk in the Gunung Mulu National Park is the longest tree-based walkway in the world. With its bouncy suspension bridges fastened to tropical hardwoods you experience sheer drops over the jungle floor and a snaking river while walking – bouncing more like – at the same level as the tree tops and the birdlife while in the occasional shadow of steep limestone cliffs. The day we went there was only me, my son and our guide — and all that jungle.

    I first visited the Malaysian state of Sarawak in Borneo in 1981. It was an island enveloped with mystique then, with mist-covered limitless jungle wrapped around isolated longhouse communities. I’ve been back to Borneo a number of times since then and watched cities grow, roads cut through dense rainforest and plantations expand. So imagine my delight when the MAS Wings flight flew low over a landscape of mist-covered rainforest and mountains before landing at Mulu’s tiny airport. I told my son, who at nineteen is just a few years younger than I was in 1981, that this was the way I remembered Borneo.

    PARK OF SUPERLATIVES

    Gunung Mulu is a 529 square kilometre park which was listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Area in 2000. There’s only 160 in the world and two nature sites in Malaysia, the other one being Mt. Kinabalu. Mulu was selected because of its concentration of caves, river canyons, limestone pinnacles. It is a park of superlatives: the biggest limestone cave system in the world; the largest cave passage in the world; the largest underground river; the largest underground space in the world, Sarawak Chambers, where even St. Paul’s Cathedral can easily fit; a 180 million year old rainforest. The British naturalist and explorer Robin Hanbury-Tenison wrote of the area in his book “Mulu: The Rain Forest”: “all sense of time and direction is lost.”

    And yet it is relatively untouristed with approximately 12,000 tourists a year. When my son and I walked to the Deer Cave on the well-maintained jungle boardwalk it was just us, our Iban guide from the Marriott hotel and another hotel employee. We had the forest to ourselves. The Deer Cave loomed above us like a cathedral whose architect was nature itself. It is not only the world’s largest cave passage but has the world’s biggest cave mouth and is 220 meters at its highest point. Limestone cliffs opened up to reveal the majesty of the cave. The path through the cave – it’s 2.2 kilometres from one end to the other – allowed us to see the frequent pulsating dark patches on the ceiling, where an estimated 2 to 3 million Wrinkle-Lipped and Horseshoe bats hang upside during the day before flying out en masse at sunset. We also passed mini-mountains of guano. If you put your hand on the path’s rail it is soon covered in, well, guano. At the far end of the Deer Cave is the site known as The Garden of Eden, a sun dappled malachite green paradise encroaching on stony darkness.

    SUNSET BATS

    Outside the entrance of the cave we joined the rest of the tourists, maybe only fifty in total, to watch the sunset show. At about 5:30pm the bats started to fly out in spiralling flocks and for the next hour they kept on coming, floating up from the Deer Cave’s entrance like twisting DNA strands until they became black floating clouds. Bats make echolocation sounds to help them navigate. From the ground the sound of tens of thousands of bats creating that noise was like the low rumble of waves washing against a distant seashore, rhythmic yet hushed.

    Bats at sunset at Gunung Mulu National Park

    We stayed for an hour until it was dark and we were the last ones there. The walk back to the park entrance was never dull as the nocturnal creatures revealed themselves: a four-inch male walking stick piggybacking on a female walking stick that was easily double its size; frogs, fireflies, giant snails climbing up trees.

    AN IN-BETWEEN WONDER

    After a day that full we retreated to one of the in-between wonders, the new Marriott Hotel, which was designed to look like a series of native long houses on elevated walkways. It reminded me of the safari lodges in Africa. You may be in a remote place where you don’t expect comfort at all but the lodgings are surprisingly luxurious. And the hotel certainly spent a lot of effort to get it right: over USD16 million on renovating 101 rooms over three and a half years. Everything had to be shipped in.

    The next morning we took a long boat from the hotel’s pier down the Melinau River. As with the forest walk there was only my son and I and our guide and a boatman. We had the tranquil, cliff-and jungle-lined river to ourselves.

    ORIGINAL FOREST DWELLERS

    We stopped first at Batu Bangan, a Penan village. While the Penan were originally hunter and gatherers, only about 200 of them live that nomadic life now. The remaining 16,000 have been settled into villages. The Penan are noted for “molong”, the practice of not taking more than necessary.  The greatest violation in their society is “see hun”, which is “a failure to share.” They have no word for thief and six words for varying levels of “we.” And even though they have a word for every plant and animal in the forest, they have no word to describe the forest itself. They refer to the forest as “tongtana”, the only world they know. With our over-competitive, overconsuming society I felt we could learn a lot from them.

    WORLD’S LARGEST CAVE SYSTEM

    Further down the river, we walked along a narrow cliff clinging boardwalk from Cave of the Winds to Clearwater Cave where we were greeted by dozens of Rajah Brooke butterflies with their iridescent green and black wings. The final ascent from a tranquil pond was 200 steps but well worth the effort. In addition to having the world’s longest underground river at 170 kilometres – only 75 kilometres of which have been explored – the Clearwater Cave is known to be the largest interconnected cave system in the world. The crystalline water racing through the mountain was one of the highlights of the park. The bridge over the water was a great place for meditation or reflection.

    IMAGINATION RUNS WILD

    The stalagmites and stalactites at all of the caves create shapes that bring to mind all sorts of things. The most obvious was the Abraham Lincoln profile near the entrance of Deer Cave but there were wilder interpretations at some of the other caves. The King’s Chamber at the Cave of the Winds looked like a futuristic city from a sci-fi flick. The statue of the lady at the Clearwater Cave. The tropical forest at Lang’s Cave. The caves bring out the best of your imagination.

    Mouth of the Deer Cave at Gunung Mulu National Park

    ON THE WAY TO NOWHERE ELSE

    Getting to the park is something of a challenge. It’s right below Brunei and not on the way to anywhere else. The closest city to the park is Miri but you can also get there from Kuching and Kota Kinabalu on MAS Wings, the only airline that flies there. Of course, the difficulty of getting there means not fighting the crowds when you do get there.

    GREAT FOR FAMILIES…COUPLES TOO

    The park facilities from the museum to the boardwalk paths through the forest and the caves to the motion sensor lights in the caves were all first rate. I saw families with small children enjoying the park. The kids especially loved the bats and caves. Another park attraction is its internet connection — it’s very weak! Which means you may have to talk to the person you’re travelling with — whether it’s your family or significant other. Despite the ruggedness and remoteness of the park, the focus on safety is high. Guides are there to show you the fauna and flora and to make sure you’re safe from them — and of course that they’re safe from you. For the long unguided walks, you’re supposed to register with the park office.

    As a UNESCO World Heritage Area Mulu is one of the rare natural wonders of the world. Not as famous perhaps as some of the other sites such as the Grand Canyon, Mount Kilimanjaro, the Great Barrier Reef and Ayers Rock. But much more special because far fewer people visit it.  As Robin Hanbury-Tenison said: “There is nowhere in the world like the Mulu National Park.”

    Published in Asian Journeys magazine, August-September 2015

  • Bangkok’s Serene Haven in Art-shopping Heaven: Drop After You Shop at the Plush Art-filled Anantara Siam Hotel

    Mural, Anantara Siam Hotel lobby

    Bangkok’s reputation as a shop till you drop destination is so well known it’s practically a meme. From Siam Paragon and Central World in Ratchadamri to Chatuchak weekend market to the newish Icon Siam on the Chao Praya river, listing them all would dwarf a Yellow Pages directory; visiting them all would be more tiring than sprinting up the side of the Grand Canyon.

    Inspiring art to inspire shopping for art

    What is less well known is that Bangkok is a destination for art lovers who love to shop for art. That shouldn’t be too surprising since Bangkok is a center of art from the traditional to contemporary. If art is your focus – and it is mine – then starting it from a hotel with expertly curated artwork gets your mind in the right space before deciding what will occupy a space in your home. The Anantara Siam, designed by leading Thai architect Dan Wongprasat, has a jaw dropping palatial lobby. The mural on the grand staircase landing of a traditional royal scene in hues of gold and red and the mandala painting on the sweeping ceiling by the late artist Arjarn Palboon Suwannakudt, gives the expansive space the feeling of a living, breathing palace that you want to linger in. And would certainly like to stay at.

    Artful champagne brunch fuels my search

    The Sunday champagne brunch to fuel my search for art was so rich – and enriching –  I almost called off the search. After the lobster thermidor, foie gras, fresh scallops, raw oysters, dessert bar and glass after glass of champagne I was feeling a little too comfortable to brave the rigors of art appreciation. But a cup of espresso finally got me off the all too comfortable dining room chair.

    Contemplate life while contemplating traditional art

    Armed with a Bangkok Art Map that I got from the Anantara Siam’s concierge I started my art shopping excursion at Suan Pakkad Palace on nearby Sri Ayutthaya Road. There was nothing to buy at this museum but plenty to inspire me. The palace, once the home of Prince Chumbhot of Nagara Svarga and his consort, features a collection of artwork and antiques in eight houses that are some of the best examples of traditional Thai architecture in the city. The murals, sculptures, and art you see while sliding in your socks across polished wooden floors started the process of deciding what would work best in my home. What I saw there gave me ideas as to what antiques I would like to get. And I know that one of the most renowned centers for antique shopping in Asia is The River City Bangkok mall on the Chao Praya River.

    Suan Phakkad Palace Museum

    Echoes of Frank Lloyd Wright

    My next stop was the Bangkok Art and Culture Center. It’s on the opposite end of the art spectrum from the Suan Pakkad Palace. An eight-story venue for contemporary art and shops selling hip crafts and gifts it attracts a crowd poked and provoked by its art. I went to the top floor to see the wonderful Royal Photo Exhibition, “Photos Wonderland,” and then worked my way down the spiral walkway that took me from one floor to the next for further art contemplation. It reminded me a bit of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Guggenheim Museum in New York with its top down spiral walkway. One of the shops, BKK Graff, sells cans of spray paint so that you can graffiti a space. Hopefully, not your home.

    Art at Bangkok Art and Culture Center
    Art at Bangkok Art and Culture Center
    Art at Bangkok Art and Culture Center
    Bangkok Art and Culture Center

    Talked about art for your walls

    A short walk from the Anantara Siam are three galleries that are among Bangkok’s best for contemporary art. Le Link Gallery, Tonson Gallery, and Nova Contemporary all feature contemporary artists whose art can dominate a wall and become a talking piece for visitors. Or yourself. Displayed at the Le Link Gallery were the brightly coloured Magenta Blues Artwork by German artist Ingeborg Zu Schleswig-Holstein.

    Before returning to the hotel I had a drink at the nearby Smalls Bar, chockablock with art. It’s rated by CNN Travel as one of the top bars to visit in Bangkok. All the art displayed in the three-story quirky bar is for sale.

    From fine arts to culinary arts at The Spice Market

    After a day launched with a great meal it was time to end it with one. On the way into the hotel lobby I passed statues of water sprites surrounded by water lilies. Their presence is a reminder that you are entering a special world.

    The Anantara Siam’s The Spice Market is one of the finest Thai restaurants in Bangkok, helmed by award-winning Chef Warinthorn Sumrthlphon.

    The ambience of the restaurant puts you in the right mood to savor the food. With a polished teak wood décor, tables topped by Carrera marble, and cotton napkins and pillowcase coverings by Jim Thompson, it is a luxurious setting.

    And the food lives up to the décor. The ingredients are sourced locally to ensure freshness. The fruits and vegetables are all organic. The curry pastes are from the kitchen of M.L. Thor Kridakorn, whose recipes are so famous that they grace the dining table of the Royal Family.

    Some of the dishes I tried were the Tom Yam Goong, a spicy prawn soup perfectly flavoured with lemongrass; Larb Nua Pu Gab Goong Mae Nam Yam, crab meat salad and grilled river prawn; Pu Nim Phad Prig Thai Orn, crispy soft shell crab in peppercorn sauce; Kai Soe Rua Nua, northern style egg noodles in curry with chicken; and, Gaeng Kiew Warn Nua Toon Cab Roti, green curry with braised beef in coconut sauce.

    No amount of description can do them justice. More chamber music than symphony with their focused and nuanced flavours each dish was a distinctive delight. The meal was so filling I couldn’t tackle dessert, much as I wanted too. Next time I’ll pace myself better. I have my eye on the Tubtim Krob, the ruby water chestnuts.

    Only hotel in Thailand to offer sacred tattoo sessions

    Anantara Siam’s commitment to art is more than skin deep. It is the only hotel in Thailand to offer private sacred tattoo sessions by Bangkok’s most famous Sak Yant master, Ajarn Neng Onnut. He has inked Hong Kong star Alex Fong and Hollywood ones Ryan Philippe, Jessica Bradford, and Brooke Shields.

    As one of the world’s most ancient, sacred traditions, to master Sak Yant means learning how to do the artwork for almost a thousand different images. To become a master Ajarn Neng learned how to read and write ancient Khmer and Pali scripts and memorise unique prayers and secret spells, chants and mantras that relate to the sacred tattoos.

    His tattoo sessions at the Anantara Siam are private, either in a guest’s room or a private treatment room. The day before the tattoo he has a consultation with the guest where he learns about their life and goals before deciding on the correct Yant. Prior to the session and afterwards, Ajarn Neng performs a ceremony where the guest’s body and the art are blessed. That gives the wearer of the tattoo an emotional reminder of the experience that links the ink on their body to what it means to their life.

    Leaving an indelible mark in more ways than one

    A session with Ajarn Neng will leave an indelible mark on your spirit and your body. The Anantara Siam offers this unique experience so that you can get beneath the skin of Thailand for a richer appreciation of its culture.

    The same is true of a stay at the Anantara Siam hotel. The culinary art of its kitchens, the prompt, warm service, and the art that embraces you in visual splendor when you enter the hotel will also leave an indelible mark; the kind of indelible mark we all want to experience and take with us wherever we go.

    Water Sprite, Anantara Siam Hotel

    Published in Asian Journeys magazine, February-March 2020

  • Balancing Breathless Bangkok’s Ying with Yang: At the Anantara Siam Even the Fighting Fish are Relaxed

    Anantara Siam Hotel Lobby

    Bangkok leaves you breathless. A pulsating, mega hive of frenetic activity, shopping is in malls wall to wall with branded goods and one of a kind items from one of the world’s most creative societies. Nightlife ranges from the pinnacle of high life in Sathorn and Thonglor — sky bars on rooftops to restaurants and clubs with sky high prices — to tawdry dens of iniquity that operate in dingy, neon lit alleys in Patpong and Soi Cowboy.

    All that activity can sometimes grate like a chainsaw tasting the bark of a tree before it’s cut down. Which is where Anantara Siam comes in. Just a few minutes’ walk from the Ratchprasong shopping district, it’s as tranquil as a posh private club in London. Its Thai design style from leading architect Dan Wongprasat gives you a sense of place and differentiates it from other hotels which have by the numbers luxury. More treat than retreat, you can take a breather here from this breathless city. From its palatial lobby, you view the soaring celling filled with mandala paintings from plush chairs you sink deeper and deeper into. The wall sized painting at the grand staircase’s landing by one of Thailand’s most famous painters, the late Arjarn Palboon Suwannakudt, is worth taking the stairs for to have a closer look. While he didn’t live to finish the work, his children, also artists, helped complete it as well the ceiling paintings in the lobby and mezzanine. It’s an enormous artistic achievement, 700 square meters of work.

    From “Well well” to wellness

    My wife and I had dinner at Anantara Siam’s Biscotti Restaurant, rated one of Bangkok’s best, according to Thailand Tatler and the Bangkok Restaurant Awards. It also received recognition from Michelin. I had a starter of creamy burrata cheese with tomatoes, ciabatta bread, basil dressing and shavings of truffles, while my wife had sea scallops, cream of buffalo mozzarella, cherry tomatoes confit and olives pate. Following our main courses of risotto black truffle with porcini, and grana Padano cheese and black ink angel hair pasta with king crab, prawns, and sundried tomato basil, we were stuffed. But we figured we would diet another day. Dessert was carmello spuma with layered dolce di latte foam, coffee granite, arabica crumbs and cocoa crackers and the Mascarpone Berry Salad with mixed berries, raspberry coulis, mascarpone cheese and pistachio sponge. The theatre of the dessert almost overwhelmed the taste. It was delivered to our table complete with trailing wisps of dry ice like something a sorcerer would prepare.

    “Well, well,” we thought. Not a meal we’d soon forget. Nor our scale. Just describing the meal was a mouthful.

    In the morning, we went from an indulgence ying to a wellness yang. We joined Anantara Siam’s new signature wellness program, “Morning Wellness at Siam.” It’s a program designed for travelers like my wife and I, who have come a long way, are a bit weary yet are eager to immerse ourselves in the culture of Bangkok. The program mirrors what for many Bangkokians, is an everyday routine.

     At 6am my wife and I were in the lobby providing alms to a monk on his early morning rounds. Anantara Siam is the only hotel in Bangkok which offers this unique local experience on a daily basis with staff who explain to guests how to appreciate and participate in this morning ritual. Our offerings were in pink and blue tiffin boxes. One box had curry, another an apple and Danish, a third fruits. Along with another hotel guest we did a Wai Pra, which is the appropriate way to bow to a monk to show respect. The chief concierge taught us: first, you place your palms together, then raise your hands in front of your face – your index finger tips must touch the hairline as your thumbs are placed between your eyebrows.  You need to bend the upper half of your body at an approximately 45-degree angle and bow for a couple of seconds before returning to your standing position. 

    Our alms, along with rice and bottles of water, were delivered direct to the temple the monk was from, Wat Pathum Wanaram Temple, between Siam Paragon and CentralWorld.

    From all twisted up to laid out flat

    The walk on Rajadamri Road to Lumpini park was a sensory feast, the crackling, chopping, cutting, dicing, slicing and munching of breakfast dishes being prepared and enjoyed at a food centre at the park’s edge. Like New York’s Central Park, Lumpini is the green, wellness lungs of the city with people trying to do right by their bodies. We passed a group doing tai chi to find our own spot at the lake’s edge. Two mats were laid down for us and a member of the hotel’s staff tried to teach us basic yoga. Our complete inability to execute the moves we were being taught certainly amused our instructor as well as a couple of monitor lizards who felt it was worth the climb from the water to have a stare at us.

    Once the yoga session was over it was our turn to feast. A huge, healthy spread was laid out for us on a picnic table overlooking the park’s lake. Cold pressed juices, prawns and salad with quinoa, cereal and milk — and handcrafted chocolates. Too much of a good thing, we simply couldn’t finish. It was a relief to have a tuk tuk carry us back to the hotel where we truly zoned out to a Chakra Crystal Balancing massage. In a room as chilled as they come our feet were bathed in a bowl of warm water. Like rare porcelain vases (which we’re far from being) we were gently lowered onto the massage tables, with our faces staring through to a bowl of petals floating in a water-filled brass urn. The masseuses surrounded us with rose quartz for our hearts, amethyst for our minds, tiger’s eye for harmonizing energy, and lapis lazuli for our throats. The throat is, apparently, a centre for spiritual energy. I’m not sure about the science of being surrounded by all of those stones but we were definitely beyond relaxed when it was over. And supposedly detoxed too. No small feat for a person like myself.

    In a single morning, we went from being spiritually centred to being all twisted up like pasta to being laid out flat on our stomachs then backs. We were knocked out — and Muay Thai star Tony Jaa wasn’t anywhere near us.

    Creativity flows by the river

    Energized, we continued our pursuit of Bangkok’s ying by visiting the Creative District.  It runs from Saphan Taksin BTS station along the Chao Phraya river to Chinatown. If you can handle the heat and humidity, it’s a great way to explore on foot what was once Bangkok’s commercial heart.

    The concierge at the Oriental Hotel gave us a map to the district. At the first stop, Assumption Cathedral, a Filipino priest was giving a Sunday sermon. Next to it, abutting the river, was the dilapidated East Asiatic headquarters building from the late 19th century. After strolling by the antique stores and boutiques of the plush OP Place past the modernist French embassy, we explored down a narrow alley to see the old Haroon Mosque with a silent green garden behind it. The pulsing intensity of Bangkok was an alternative universe, light years away.

    Bangkok meets Miami

    A little further on, down another narrow alley, we saw the 19th century Customs House, a once grand building now in disrepair overlooking the river. We walked past the imposing Grand Central Postal building. Built in art deco style in 1940 it had huge pinkish Garudas garlanded with yellow flowers at the top of the central facade. Legend has it that when the Allies bombed Bangkok in World War II, they took flight to protect the building. Soon we were at the Thai Artists Wall. The huge murals reminded me of Miami’s trendy Wynwood district, both in terms of the art and the galleries and cafes nearby. Warehouse 30 was a collection of local fashion boutiques, a café and a restaurant occupying World War II-era military storage buildings. It was founded a little over a year ago by Duangrit Bunnag, one of Thailand’s most famous architects. Given the heat and humidity it was an ideal place to press the pause button on our stroll and have a couple of glasses of ice coffee. My wife bought slippers there from the brand called Other Leathers.

    Mural on Thai Artists Wall
    Mural on Thai artists wall
    Thai artists wall

    Bangkok meets George Town meets Mad Max

    After Warehouse 30, we entered Talad Noi, a neighborhood whose architecture reminded me of George Town in Malaysia, where Pernankan meets European – but this time in a Thai setting. We stopped to see the towering spire of the cream-coloured Kalawar Church, completed during King Rama V’s reign. Down a zigzag of alleys we found Sol Heng Tai, a 200-year old Hokkien-Teochew mansion near the Chao Phraya, which serves drinks in a decidedly quirky environment. complete with a swimming pool that no one was using. Apparently, it is used for a scuba diving school. The 7th and 8th generations of the Posayajinda family still live here.

    We passed banyan spirit trees which sometimes had images of former Thai kings hanging from them, other times were festooned with multi-coloured ribbons. Shop after shop had immense piles of auto parts in front of them, making the area look like both a hoarders’ paradise and a back lot for a Mad Max movie.

    Soon we were in Chinatown, where the throbbing mania of the megalopolis returned, like a feverish dream. We chilled – literally – over a coffee and dessert at Chata Speciality Coffee, a café with creatively named brews and dainty cakes to complement them.

    The Siamese Fighting Fish aren’t in a Fighting Mood

    Statue of water sprite in front of Anantara Siam Hotel

    In front of the Anantara Siam is a statue of a water sprite blowing a conch shell atop water lilies – a harmonious greeting for our return. Our room overlooked the Royal Bangkok Sports Club. two panes of glass giving us the view without the street noise. On the desk, a Siamese Fighting Fish was swimming alone in a fishbowl without a care in the world. One of the world’s most aggressive species — agitation so much a part of its DNA that it immediately fights when it sees another fish — it was utterly at peace. The Anantara Siam was so tranquil even the Siamese Fighting fish doesn’t feel like fighting anymore. Now that’s the right kind of ying to balance Bangkok’s breathless yang.

    Royal Bangkok Sports Club

    Anantara Siam Hotel address:

    155 Rajadamri Road

    Bangkok 10330 Thailand

    http://www.anantara.com

    Published in Asian Journeys magazine, August-September 2018

  • Prince Jefri’s Xanadu: A Palace of Your Own at Brunei’s Empire Hotel

    The Empire, Brunei

    “In Xanadu, did Kublai Khan

    A stately pleasure-dome decree:

    Where Alph, the sacred river, ran

    Through caverns measureless to man

    Down to a sunless sea

    So twice five miles of fertile ground

    With walls and towers girdled round:

    And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,

    Where blossomed many an incensed-bearing tree;

    And here were forests ancient as the hills,

    Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.”

    When Samuel Taylor Coleridge envisioned Kublai Khan’s palace in Xanadu he imagined a place of over-the-top luxury, of unimaginable wealth. We’ll probably never know if Prince Jefri, the Sultan of Brunei’s wayward younger brother, had this poem in mind when he dreamt up, then built the Empire Hotel and Country Club through the Amadeo Development Corporation. But he could have.

    Or maybe he was thinking of that Kevin Costner hit film, “Field of Dreams,” where Mr. Costner’s Iowa farmer character heard voices that said, “Build it and they will come.” In the film, ghosts from baseball’s past such as Shoeless Joe Jackson do come – to play baseball on the field the obsessed hero built against all odds.

    In Prince Jefri’s case, he has built his Xanadu but almost no one has come, giving the hotel a ghostly silence. Though maybe they should, as the Empire Hotel is a place of almost unparalleled splendor on the sunny north coast of Borneo. Imagine a hotel that combines the immensity of the huge Hawaiian resorts with the Arabic touches of the Omani and Dubai beach hotels with the luxury of posh London establishments with the wacky fantasy touches – and emptiness – of Hearst Castle.

    The domed lobby of Brunei’s Empire Hotel is supported by six-story-high Italian marble pillars crowned by Corinthian flourishes and trimmed with gold leaf. And that’s not gold-colored paint: that’s real gold. The gold leaf is used generously around the edges of the lobby’s walls as well as the ceilings, giving the whole massive open space a glittering look when the sun hits. In the lobby are generous displays of Baccarat crystal, including a crystal camel with a solid gold saddle. Not to mention the enormous crystal chandelier that hangs over the front entrance.

    The marble floors are inlaid with bright decorations of tropical flora. And there’s a huge mural of one of the sultan’s ancestors welcoming British ships of war at an earlier palace that was far less imposing than the hotel. Just so the vastness of the lobby – and not the empty retail area nearby – doesn’t overcome you, there are a couple of Fazioli player pianos endlessly tinkling out lonely tunes.

    The walk to the rooms is no less imposing, through bouncy thick-carpeted hallways surrounded by a forest of Italian marble pillars. The décor inside the rooms is lavish, with furniture and linen by Meritalia and prints of ancient maps of Borneo in gilded frames. The china and silverware in the guestrooms is all Asprey – as they are throughout the hotel. The bathroom is the size of a typical Hong Kong apartment, with toiletries from Molton Brown. (If you take a suite or villa you get Bulgari.) The plushness of the room might remind you of somewhere in Europe except when you open the drapes to see a huge balcony and further off the crashing waves of the South China Sea.

    To relax you have choices fit for, well, a prince – or a sultan. To get to the clubhouse you ride a golf cart that the staff called a “buggy” past an on-site waterfall and a lake. There’s an eight-lane bowling alley with stylish, aqua-colored furniture – no hard plastic chairs like nearly every bowling alley on earth. My family and I were the only ones playing with a staff of four to cater to our every need. At the club there are two badminton courts. And two squash courts. And a two-story pool and snooker hall. But one thing is missing: players.

    In case racket and stick sports aren’t your game, there’s a golf course and clubhouse with day and night golfing. And tennis. And a Jacuzzi and sauna. And row after row of unused polished wooden lockers in the men’s room, each one containing a fresh, folded terrycloth bathrobe, towel, razor, comb and toothbrush. And even though it is in the tropics, there is a heated indoor swimming pool with lanes on the bottom of the pool covered in gold tiles. Again, that’s real gold. When I used the pool and sauna I was the only one doing so. I never saw anyone using the rest of the facilities either. Friendly staff just hung around, waiting for someone, anyone, to show up and give them something to do.

    There are also the outdoor pools, four of them. The freeform one is the size of a lake with flooring covered in sand to give it that beach feel. There is also a school of stone sculpture dolphins swimming up a grassy hill towards the sea on the other side. My children loved those. They also loved the freeform pool – especially since we were usually the only ones using it.

    Stone dolphins at The Empire, Brunei

    At the Arabic-Mediterranean restaurant called “Falafel,” you can admire the world’s only titanium cutlery and dinnerware collection. The prince had it especially designed in the U.S. and produced in France at a cost of several million dollars. It’s the same metal that is used in fighter planes.

    After dinner, you can visit one of three cinemas on the hotel grounds. Again, the ghost town nature of the place has its advantages. Unlike other hotels, guests here are not limited to small-screen entertainment in private guestrooms because the empty theaters guarantee a big screen practically all to oneself.

    Nearby the hotel is Jerodong Park, another favorite project of the price. This is Disneyland and Coney Island wrapped into one, with everything from kiddy rides to roller coasters for the teenagers or the adults who don’t mind losing their dinner. (Strangely, the park doesn’t open until 5 pm, so your lunch will have been digested by then.) For a mere $3 my children could ride on all the rides they wanted – all night long until 2 am. But as with the hotel, the prince may have built but “they” didn’t come. As for lines, forget about those. My children were almost always the only ones on any of the rides, randomly selected. Whether it was the bumper cars, the merry-go-round or the flying swings, they were all empty. Same for the adult rides. It wasn’t exactly like being in a Twilight Zone episode, but at times the complete desertion of having one’s own private palace got close.

    Finally, not to be outdone, Prince Jefri’s Xanadu has a musical fountain. Near an imposing gate flanked by ancient cannons, there is an immense fountain with water sprouts that dance and sway to the music. Again, on the beautiful, starry night of our visit, my family and I were the only ones watching the spectacular light show. While it might have started off with the cheesy “Eye of the Tiger” it soon moved into hotter tunes. My favorites were those by Tina Turner. With the balmy breeze off the South China Sea and the sense of being in a kingdom – a real kingdom, not a fantastical Xanadu – where everything seemed to be done just for you, sometimes literally, the big, colorfully lit droplets hanging magically in mid-air suddenly made Brunei seem like a really cool place to be.

    Published in The Asian Wall Street Journal, June 21, 2002

  • For the Birds: Another Concrete Canyon in the Making

    Screenshot

    The Mai Po Marshes in Hong Kong have always been an anomaly. They are a conservation area of international importance in a territory where environmental conservation of any kind has always played second fiddle to economic growth. Breathe the air or swim at any beach and you’ll see how low a priority conservation really is.

    The marshes are a habitat for up to 320 species of birds, yet they straddle the border between Hong Kong and mainland China. The suburbs of Hong Kong’s New Territories are creeping up on one side and the skyscrapers of the sprawling mainland city of Shenzhen are getting closer on the other. In this place of tranquility in the middle of urban hustle and bustle, quiet stepping birdwatchers compete for space with boot- and khaki-wearing Hong Kong coppers protecting their side of the border.

    Mai Po marshes near Shenzhen

    In a sense the Mai Po Marshes are the summation of the past, present, and future of this part of Southern China – and the fate of the birds is a subject that should be important to anyone concerned about the quality of life in the region. We humans who squeeze the abode of our fine, feathered friends on two sides ought to reconsider any future construction here, for this hiding place is one of the area’s last resorts for a variety of natural wonders.

    The Mai Po Marshes and Inner Deep Bay in the New Territories of Hong Kong were created as a conservation area in 1984 by the World Wildlife Fund. This area was set aside so that migratory and waterbirds such as gulls, ducks, shorebirds, herons and egrets would have a place to call home or rest on their flight southward from Siberia during winter months. For the migratory birds a resting place is essential as the round trip between their Siberian summer breeding grounds and their winter home of Australia can be as long as 33,000 kilometers.

    Endangered species such as the Saunders’ Gull and Blackfaced Spoonbill frequent here. The mangroves stand is the sixth largest in China. Also in the reserve are 24 traditionally operated shrimp ponds that are the last of their kind in Southern China.

    Mai Po marshes in Hong Kong

    A visit, however, reveals much more than flora and fauna. The first thing one notices upon arrival at the marshes are the watchtowers and huge fences topped by coils of barbed wire, with a lone flag of the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region hanging limply in the humid air. This stretch of land is the border, the demarcation zone, between the two systems that exist in one country. To be allowed into the Mai Po Marshes you need a passport, a “Frontier Closed Area” permit and a Mai Po Marshes permit. The hard edge of a heavily policed no man’s land contrasts with the tranquility of the natural environment.

    My family entered through the border gate and walked on a pontoon bridge made of planks of wood strapped to empty barrels. We balanced precariously as the barrels bobbed in the water of the marshes. Every now and then we would stop to see white bursting flowers above or crabs below, distinctive with their one large claw as they scamped among the mud of the mangroves.

    On two occasions heavily armed Hong Kong police in military fatigues passed by us. They were searching for illegal immigrants hoping to slip into the SAR through this nature zone.

    At the end of the walk we came upon a “hide” – a concrete hut with slits for windows, the better to silently watch the birdlife. Inside, we saw before us the vast mudflats that lead to the Shenzhen River and a freighter cruising up the river. Through telescopes and binoculars, we spotted groups of birds and mud skippers sliding up from the mud and slipping into it again. We also spied a man who seemed to be skiing across the mudflats – stopping and stooping on occasion – and then continuing. I asked the guide who he was and he told me he was a poacher, grabbing mud skippers for the markets of Shenzhen. “Hong Kong people,” I was told, almost as an afterthought, “don’t eat then.”

    I asked why the police didn’t catch him, and the guide smiled: “He can move faster than they can in the mud.” And he was right: in no time at all he was out of sight, with his illegal goods in a bucket.

    After the hide we continued on our hunt for birdlife, passing a traditional shrimp pond where a sluice gate was opened to force the water out and the hapless shrimp into a net. We visited an empty museum that was filled with bird models and monotonous exhibits. I could have dismissed it offhandedly as being for the birds – but it was, more accurately, about the birds.

    Mai Po marshes, Hong Kong

    We also visited another hide, the mountains of the New Territories visible behind it. As the afternoon wore on, we found that the birds were perhaps a bit more sensible than we were. As the day got hotter, they flew to cooler environs. The guides, armed with portable telescopes on tripods and awesomely sharp eyesight, often found birds for us – hidden in thick foliage. They fluttered their wings to stay cool. Sometimes we spotted birds’ nests, aerial homes built with mud, twigs and leaves.

    Throughout our visit, the watchtowers, the barbed-wire-topped fences and the buildings of densely populated areas were never out of sight – or mind. I don’t know how the birds felt, but as for me, I thought it was getting about time for them to start looking for a new home and resting place for their long annual journey. Despite the promises of authorities on both sides of the border to protect the wildlife reserve, it seems likely that the Mai Po Marshes will be developed into yet another concrete canyon. After all, local people need a place to nest too.

    Published in The Asian Wall Street Journal, March 7, 2003

  • Clubbing in Calcutta: The World’s Largest ‘Museum’ of British Colonial Architecture

    Victoria Monument, Kolkata

    The graffiti on the outside wall has the look of urban scrawl everywhere: “We protest against the dictatorship of the club president!” The president of the Bengal Club in Calcutta, founded in 1828, was just trying to enforce some club rules, and he seems to have run headfirst into a wider force. Calcutta’s genteel clubs are having to reckon with the culture of protest that has always existed outside their forbidding white-washed walls.

    The Bengal Club, Kolkata
    The Bengal Club
    Traditions live on at The Bengal Club

    Inside the Bengal’s stately building, members speak in hushed tones. A steel-gated elevator clatters you to the second floor, where the same dining tradition has been maintained for over 150 years. The waiters, wearing white tunics with brass buttons and wide black sashes for belts, look like they stepped out of a Rudyard Kipling book. The paintings on the walls are of old British sahibs – the respectful Indian term for Europeans. Those men are now probably buried in the crow-filled, weed-covered South Park Street Cemetery a few blocks away.

    The Bengal’s graffiti hardly fits with the gentlemanly, antiquated spirit of the place. But then again, Calcutta is notorious for its culture of protest. People in this city have always taken to the streets, whether to be among the first to fight colonialism – or later, whatever happened to the national government of the day. It was this spirit of rebellion that led the British to move their capital to New Delhi in 1912.

    Clubs are popular in Calcutta, now officially known at Kolkata. No, not dance clubs where girls in short skirts and guys in tight shirts hang out. Calcutta’s night life is pretty tame in that respect. These clubs were started by the British to deal with homesickness and the dull, distant colonial lifestyle. But when they left, the tradition stayed – carried on by the society’s elite: barristers, lawyers, doctors, engineers, businessmen, even the occasional maharaja, or local prince.

    Calcutta High Court
    Rickshaw puller

    Another landmark, the Saturday Club, was founded in 1875 by the Calcutta Light Horse Regiment. The current club premises, built in 1900, are entered by passing beneath a series of flags and a small balcony where a dignitary might wave to well-wishers. On the other side of the grand ballroom, covered in a parquet floor with huge fans hanging immobile from the ceiling, you can reach the Light Horse Bar. When the regiment was disbanded after India gained its independence, its trophies moved there.

    Saturday Club

    Then there’s the Royal Calcutta Golf Club, also known as the “Royal.” Founded in 1829, it’s the oldest golf club outside of the British Isles. It was King George V who gave the club its “royal” title at the Delhi Durbar in 1911. The building that houses the club now was opened in 1914. It looks like a sprawling lord’s manor with a red-titled roof and red trim around the windows, doors and grand entranceway. The lawns are vast and manicured. Inside, it has the austere atmosphere of a British public school. Long mahogany boards list the names of gold-medal winners in gold lettering all the way back to the 1870s. Black and white photos of stiff-looking club presidents line the stairway to the second floor. Beneath the striped awning out back you can watch golf, or just sit and drink tea.

    Royal Calcutta Golf Club
    Past presidents of Royal Calcutta Golf Club
    Royal Calcutta Golf Club

    Nearby is the Tollygunge Club, founded in 1895, which is spread over 100 acres that surround a more than century-old clubhouse. You can find golf, tennis, squash, swimming or even horseback riding here – just like those denizens of the Raj did so many years ago. In a city mired by poverty, this is where the gold leaf thin top tier of society spent their leisure time.

    Tollygunge Club

    It might seem strange that Calcutta should play host to so many antiquated British institutions. Yet up until 1912, Calcutta was the second-largest city in the British Empire. The Victoria Monument here was built by Lord Curzon between 1906 and 1921 in memory of his empress and was meant to be larger and more impressive than the Taj Mahal. The former Dalhousie Square, now known as BBD Bagh, was the bastion of British bureaucracy, with impressive colonial-era edifices surrounding it. The massive 200-year-old British Government House is now known as the Raj Bhavan and is the seat of the West Bengal government. Nearby is the Doric-style Town Hall and the High Court, copied from the Staadhaus at Ypres, Belgium and opened for justice in 1872.

    Mother Teresa’s tomb at Missionaries of Charity
    Nuns praying at Mother Teresa’s Missionaries of Charity

    Because it has seen so much war, poverty and turmoil, Calcutta has not torn down its past. It has simply been too poor to build many new buildings. The result is the largest “museum” of British colonial architecture in the world. Think of it as a tropical 19th-century London. Add to that the antique-looking Ambassador cars with styling that hasn’t changed since the 1950s and the human rickshaw pullers, and you could be worlds away from the rapid development of Indian cities like Mumbai and Bangalore.

    Great Banyan Tree, Kolkata, the widest tree in the world

    The graffiti on the wall does suggest that tradition could rapidly slip away from the clubs that Calcutta has nourished since the days of the British Raj. Nevertheless, these traditions are still more intact here than in most other parts of the world.

    Shaheed Minar erected in 1828

    Published in The Asian Wall Street Journal, August 12-14, 2005

  • If You Have One Night in Bangkok

    Since my first visit to Bangkok in 1981, I’ve been back dozens of times. For a few years I even commuted to a job that was based here. I’ve seen the city transform again and again from a seedy backwater with a “reputation” to a glittering, glamorous metropolis with some gritty corners.  But there’s one label that no one has ever put on Bangkok and that is boring.

    So imagine the challenge I set for myself on my last trip: if I only had one night in the city what would I do?

    For inspiration I used the lyrics from the Murray Head song, One Night in Bangkok:

    One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble

    Not much between despair and ecstasy

    One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble

    Can’t be too careful with your company

    I can feel the Devil walking next to me

    With those alarmist lyrics I decided I needed a really good meal to fuel the long evening ahead.

    SPOILED BY BANGKOK’S BEST STEAKHOUSE

    For fortification I started with a perfectly executed Citrus Martini, shaken not stirred, at the lushly appointed “Manhattan Lounge” at the JW Marriott Hotel. I followed this with dinner at the “New York Steakhouse” next door, consistently rated as Bangkok’s best. That’s a tough accolade to get year after year in a food-centered city like this. I couldn’t help but compare the experience here with a famous steakhouse in Palm Springs, California earlier this year where a grumpy, BMI-challenged waiter gave my family and I a Tomahawk-steak on a large platter where we all tucked in forks and sharp knives at the ready. The “New York Steakhouse’s” version of the Tomahawk-steak was altogether a different, much more elevated experience.  When the waitresses with model-like looks and killer smiles draped the elegantly cut slices of meat on the Tomahawk bone I knew it was going to be tough to dine at an American steakhouse again. I’ve now been spoiled.

    ASIA’S MOST HAPPENING STREET

    Properly nourished, I headed out with a friend to explore nearby Soi 11, in my opinion Asia’s most happening street.  When you think of nightlife areas in Asia, Hong Kong’s raucous Lan Kwai Fong springs to mind, or its more trendy, edgier sister Soho, or the upscale Xintiandi district in Shanghai or Singapore’s tony Club Street or Seoul’s fashionista Gangham district. But whereas those other nightlife areas

    give you a non-representative slice of those cities’ lives, on Soi 11 you feel the entire human spectrum and kinetic energy of the city, Bangkok on full display and in your face.

    Soi 11 is where I was going to spend my one night in Bangkok.

    Our journey up and down and from ground-level to high above the Soi was a both a trek across broken sidewalk pavements and a peek into the aspirations of the people there that make the Soi a place of unyielding buzz. From “Cheap Charlie’s” with its outside pavement seating and a reputation for the cheapest beers in Bangkok to “Above 11” for a contemplative view of the city that looks a lot tamer 33 floors up, away from the stumbling crowds and the cruising pink and yellow and green taxis that always seem to barely miss hitting someone. The skyline’s supercharged sparkle was borderline surreal. Emerald City on steroids.

    PEOPLE-WATCHING PERCH

    We found a central perch at “Oskar’s”, which gave us a panorama view of the Soi in action. With a counter seat, you can see the denizens of the street marching purposely towards a destination or lurching from one bar to the next. Usually packed after 9pm, it becomes the Soi’s defacto people watching fulcrum: inside the bar everyone is rubbing elbows with everyone else, in a hurry to meet or make friends. It is not a place for a solitary drink. Or soulful chats for that matter. Meaningful encounters just isn’t on the menu in this place.

    Having a tough time hearing each other, my friend and I made our way to the quieter “Wolff’s”, owned by former private investigator Malcolm Schaverien who writes thriller novels under the pseudonym of Harlan Wolff. Mr. Schaverien provided a bit of oral history of the Soi and its rise up Bangkok’s neon rankings: “Soi 11 became the local…nightspot when Q Bar first offered the option of trendy nightlife for those living on Sukhumvit. Before that we had pubs, gogo bars, cocktail lounges, restaurants and hotel bars – that was about it. So we would mostly make the trek to Silom or Siam Square for nightlife. After Q Bar came Bed Supper Club and others making Soi 11 a ‘trendy’ destination.”

    Sadly, both Bed Supper Club and Q Bar are now closed. A hotel is now being built where Bed Supper Club was. Q Bar is being transformed in a new venue called The District. The Soi’s reinvention continues.

    When I asked Mr. Schaverien why he created “Wolff’s” he said: “I was nostalgic for the classic bar I remember from my early days. The sort of place where people meet and talk over cocktails or a glass of wine. I couldn’t find one in my area so I built one with bricks and a copper top bar.”

    A few steps away we visited Brew, for a stylish beer-focused experience. Owner Chris Foo said the bar was “based on a space under a Trappist…Monastery in the mountains where monks produced beer. The water coming down the mountain would

    be collected and used to make the Trappist Beers and then they would store the beer

    in oak casks for fermentation.” With “the largest selection of beers and ciders in Asia,” Mr. Foo’s aims to make his bar a destination for beer-lovers. The menu was amazingly long. I could imagine drinking a different beer there almost every day of the year. Not a bad goal to set yourself.

    MUSIC YOU DON’T USUALLY GET ELSEWHERE

    At some point in any long evening music is as good a reason as any other to visit a bar. And Soi 11 is one of the best destinations in Bangkok for the more unusual types of music. At “Apotheka”, blues is played every evening except Sunday, when it’s jazz. With its dark wood interior the bar could be in Chicago or New York, only it isn’t. It’s completely open in the tropical heat and we briefly lingered on the sidewalk before being sucked into the bar for a better view of the band leader playing the trombone with aplomb while coaxing his fellow musicians. Munching on popcorn while sipping a craft beer was a great way to pass the time.

    Above “Apotheka” is yet another refuge from the Soi, “Nest”, where we sought temporary solace. With plants and alcoves and a floor covered in sand in places to reinforce the you’re-in-the-tropics feel, a guitarist provided the music to make it a chill place to hang.

    SINGLE-DIGIT TIME

    There comes a point in any evening where the drinks start to hit the double-digit point and the hour hand single digits. That’s when noisier, more primal venues hold greater appeal. “Levels”, on the 9th floor of the Aloft Hotel, fit that bill. It too had a view, of Soi 11 as it marched through the chaotic tide of humanity to not-so-distant Sukhumvit. With a more aggressive but more snappily dressed crowd, it was an ideal place to see the Soi from a different vantage point. It has a gigantic curving bar with a colossal sparkling chandelier above it, like a fountain of descending glass that never quite splashes down.

    After a drink there I too started my transformation into one of the lurching zombies of the late night Soi. Not quite an extra from the movie World War Z but in a few more hours I might have passed for one. I walked past brightly-lit drink and food carts that lined the streets selling pad thai, seafood of all kinds packed in ice, stacks of coconuts. There was even a shiny yellow van with seats out front called Taco Taxi. I thought of some more lyrics from Murray Head’s song:

    “One night in Bangkok and the world’s your oyster.

    The bars are temples but the pearls ain’t free.”

    ONE NIGHT ISN’T ENOUGH

    The Soi has startling variety of venues: from an Indian nightclub called “Daawat” in the Ambassador Hotel, to a German bar called “Old German Beerhouse”, from an Italian pizzeria called “Limoncello” to a bar called “The Alchemist” tucked away on an alcove just off the main Soi, to a wine bar called “Zaks” to a Thai restaurant, “Suk 11”, set in a traditional wooden building. That doesn’t begin to describe the diversity of choices on the Soi. One night in Bangkok isn’t enough to explore this street.

    I landed with a delightful thud in a basement after hours club named “Climax.” Given the way I was feeling, the long night clearly tugging on me, it certainly wasn’t the climax of my evening but with a glazed view of the revelers it seemed to have lived up to its name for some people.

    No night in Bangkok is complete unless you have a place to R & R (rest and recover) afterwards. The nearby JW Marriott certainly provided that for me. In the morning, I sweated out the previous evening’s indulgences with a lengthy session in the steambath and sauna at the hotel’s state-of-the-art spa. With a swim afterwards I was practically as good as new.

    Relaxing on a lounge chair by the soothing aquamarine pool, I considered with a clear head the challenge I had set for myself. What was I thinking? Who wants to spend just one night in Bangkok?

    Published in Asian Journeys magazine, December 2015-January 2016