Cheeseburgers, bat caves and jackboots

Regardless of your politics or your shirt color, you can't deny the Bangkok riot police wear some kickass boots.

I've been staying in the Bangkok area for the past week and a half or so, waiting for some riots that so far have failed to materialize. Nothing was happening other than a lot of talking. I got bored waiting, rented a motorbike (a Honda 200 cc Shadow that is OK, but, well, it's just OK), and rode 150 kilometers or so north into the mountains of Khao Yai National Park, and I'm so glad I did, because Bangkok was driving me nuts. Perhaps it was more that cities in general were driving me nuts. Phnom Penh for four long, long weeks, Saigon, Hanoi, Saigon again, back through Phnom Penh, then Siem Reap, and Bangkok -- it's been nothing but cities.

No riots, no riots, no riots, so I'd had enough and left. Thailand's highways are nerve-wracking, I'll admit, riding a motorcycle, but they are a relief compared to Bangkok. Bangkok and New Delhi -- it's a tossup, I'd say, as far as how difficult it is to bike.

I was actually surprised I found Khao Yai, since few people here speak English, and all of the Thais I consulted in Bangkok advised me to take the bus. The highlight was after we'd toured the bat cave and rolled around to the backside of the mountain just before sunset to see them come out for their nocturnal forays.

We waited at the foot of the mountain, nothing stirring but the wind rushing through the trees that lined it. The sun sank lower, and we began to hear the chirping of two million bats as they developed a consensus on when to leave the cave.

A gray hawk diving from a tree above the cave gave the first sign that the bats were beginning to emerge. The hawks had been circling for close to an hour, black ones silhouetted against the darkening blue sky above the mountain and lighter ones in the trees, all waiting for a meal on the fly.

The chirping became a whirring rush of wings as the bats spiraled out of the cave. The column undulated over our heads, curled over a hilltop behind us, and swirled into the valley below. It appeared that the bats collectively functioned as a single living being. They flew into the wind, as bats do, like a horizontal Wizard of Oz cyclone, fluttering and swirling in response to changes in the air flow.


Then it was back to Bangkok. And, yes, I do eat cheeseburgers any place I find them.

Bangkok

A Thai filmmaker last night invited me to play Buddha in a flick he is putting together involving the major characters from the various major world religions having romantic time together. He wanted me to be Buddha, and to make out with Jesus on a park bench.

"We already have Jesus; he's staying right up there," he said, gesturing to a hippie lounging on a balcony above us. He did have a nice beard.

It's because I'm bald, isn't it? But, no, to answer your question, I did not use this opportunity to launch a career in film. Well, I didn't use it at all. No, I did not make out with Jesus!

I moved to a sort of artists' colony yesterday. My little house opens right onto (as in, 6 feet from) the Chao Phraya River. Waves slap against a three-foot concrete wall, and barges rumble up and down the water.

It's one of the cheapest places in town, and pretty eclectic. A Belgian couple is working on a photography project on ladyboys. A faux-hawked Uruguayan juggles clubs and plays the recorder. Guests are invited and encouraged to paint their rooms any way they like.

Anyway, I am here to report on the demonstrations staged by the Red Shirts, supporters of a guy who was ousted while facing corruption charges. Still need to get a wide-angle lens.

Oh, so these boys were playing on the dock that floats about 50 yards from my little house. The kid doing a backflip was fearless. He would jump off of anything.

Angkor Wat: the pride of the Khmer. And other stuff

Money to burn

Saw this family on the street in Saigon burning money. I asked around, and it seems it is traditional to do this to honor ancestors.

Snake farm!

I had been out all day taking photos at the Moon Bear sanctuary, about two hours away from Hanoi, and rolled into my hostel about 7 p.m. This Finnish couple was waiting up for me.

Turned out the timing was perfect, because the taxi was waiting for us to go to the snake restaurant. Well, apparently I had forgotten committing the previous evening to go to this place. The taxi took us through a winding series of Hanoi's backalleys, which are pretty horrific, but at least it was dark.

Somebody was slaughtering a dog when we got out of the taxi. That's what it sounded like.

We walked into the courtyard and this guy thrust an eight-foot cobra in our faces. Tossed it down on the ground repeatedly and snatched it up by the tail just before it got to us. I'm guessing its teeth had been removed, but I could be wrong.

Juno was talking about how snake's blood and heart was supposed to boost your libido, which I understand was the principle draw. I am not sure why someone would want to boost such a thing, but that's yet another story.

The second snake they pulled from the bag would be our dinner. They made each of us hold it before finding our table. It was probably five feet long, although it was hard to tell, with it winding around our wrists.

They brought out the snake and cut out its heart on the floor in front of us, drained blood into three shot glasses and presented them, accompanied by shot glasses half full of something alcoholic.

Well, I've eaten goat brain in India, and had no problem with that, but this threatened to turn my stomach. Snakes just don't look appetizing in general.

Anyway, I did it. Then they brought out five or six dishes, different iterations of snake, snake and more snake, fried, covered in soy sauce, wrapped in seaweed. The morning after, it just sounds nasty.

Well, it pretty much is.