Bruce Lawson’s personal site

My Bangkok next-door neighbour and friend, Steve Van Beek has some spaces left on his fantastic kayak tours in South East Asia. I can absolutely recommend these; Steve has lived in Thailand for thirty years and I’ve met no-one else who knows the language, culture and geography as well as he does.

Prices below cover all accommodations, transportation, inflatable kayaks, equipment, meals, and guiding. They don’t include transportation to the starting point, visa fees, nor accommodation before or after the trip. It also assumes a minimum of five paddlers. Please contact Steve directly if you’re interested.

Paddle the 4,000 Islands of Laos

Jan. 16-29 (Wed.to Sun.) and Feb. 13-17 (Wed.-Sun.): Five days paddling through the 4,000 islands created where the Mekong, barred by a fault line, braids to 14 km. wide. The geologic slip has created Southeast Asia’s largest waterfalls (more water than Niagara) an obstruction which blocks navigation. US$940.

Down a Winding River to a Mekong Gem

Jan. 25-27 (Fri-Sun), 2008: This trip combines the beauty of the foothills surrounding Luang Prabang with the charm of paddling into one of the most beautiful towns in Asia. We’ll sleep in homestays and experience village life, visit a beautiful waterfall, run some rapids, visit a quiet Buddhist monastery, and pay our respects at the grave of one of Asia’s most fearless explorers, Henri Mouhot. Along the way, we’ll see how villagers and fishermen utilize the river in their daily lives. US$490.

Cambodia: Siem Reap recommendations

While I’m busy recommending South-East Asian fun, I recall that I had a tricky time finding recommendations about Cambodia that weren’t aimed at cheapskate backpackers or sex tourists. So here’s my recommendations; I don’t claim that these are cheaper or better than their competitors, only that they met my needs. They were accurate in August 2007.

Siem Reap hotel

I stayed at the Golden Orange hotel. It’s US$1 by tuk-tuk to the main bar street or a 15 minute amble, and costs US$20 per night (for the twin room, rather than per person). I booked three nights and got a free airport pickup and free breakfast every day.

Rooms were very clean, with aircon and ensuite with hot shower, a fridge and free water. There was free internet. The staff arranged my tuktuk driver for three days, my bus to Phnom Penh and a massage, all at decent prices. I was so comfortable, I extended my stay by a night.

Only slight downside is that the owner’s wife has a small pet dog which patrols the second floor at night. It’s entirely harmless, but can bark occasionally so light sleepers should ask for a different floor.

Siem Reap restaurant and dancing

I thoroughly enjoyed the apsara dancing upstairs at the Temple Bar. It was free to those eating or drinking. The US$5 Khmer buffet was very good, too— as was the fish amok served in a coconut.

Cambodia: Phnom Penh recommendations

Phnom Penh hotel

I stayed at the Tonle Sap Guesthouse, a few metres from Sisowath Quay. It was a functional and clean room for US$18. The Pickled Parrot bar downstairs had good food and beer, and the owners were very helpful about organising a taxi for me to see the Killing Fields and Tuol Sleng.

Phnom Penh restaurants

I was very well fed round the corner from my hotel at La Volpaia, which was recommended to me by an Aussie NGO worker. I had great Italian food in aircon splendour, and a glass of good (chilled!) red wine, for about US$12.

For breakfast, I enjoyed watching the world passing by on Sisowath Quay from the pavement tables of Rendezvous, a French establishment.

Long-time readers of this site may know that I don’t send Xmas cards to people for a variety of reasons:

• they create landfill and extra pollution is caused moving millions of them around
• I’m a Christmas-hating bah-humbugger irreligious pinko
• it’s a waste of money, which is criminal when so many people have so little.

What I do instead is choose a charidee that means something to me and give it the cash that I used to spend on cards and postage. This year, it’s the Angkor Hospital for Children in Siem Reap, Cambodia.

When I was in Siem Reap earlier this year, there was an outbreak of Dengue hemorrhagic fever which killed many kids, and the hospital was calling for donations of blood and money. My multiple sclerosis prevents me from donating blood, so I’m donating money instead. (Also, I’m marginally less scared of opening my wallet than I am of massive needles.)

The director of the hospital, David Shoemaker, says that his most memorable experience working there is

seeing a kid die in the ER one evening because his parents had spent all day trying to borrow $1 to pay for transportation to get to the hospital.

So that’s your Xmas card—I hope you like it and whether you celebrate Christmas or not, I hope that 2008 is happy and prosperous for you and yours.

On my first evening back in familiar Thailand, my brother-in-law accidentally killed a snake. This being Thailand, it was immediately decided that we’d eat it.

While some water boiled and some lemongrass and herbs were added, James played with the corpse—it make an excellent substitute train-set.

The scales were scorched and scraped off over fire, seen in this video.

Then, it was gutted and chopped, and after a few minutes it was ready.

It was a lady snake, and so the eggsac was given to me as the guest of honour. It was about the size of my thumb, slightly chewy, but delicious. (Full gallery).

I’ve long been an admirer of the art of Chalermchai Kositpipat, who was one of the prime movers to break Thai buddhist art away from slavishly following tradition and modernise it. So when I heard that he is building a temple called Wat Rong Khun in his home village in Chiang Rai, I was delighted to receive an invitation to look around it.

Chalermchai’s temple is pure white (see gallery), which makes it shine magically in the Thai sun. The entrance to the main prayer hall has a disconcerting sea of hands, reaching out from hell to beg for help.

The wat is still under construction; Chalermchai reckons it will take another 70–90 years to complete, and it’s was splendid to see the workshop full of unfinished giants and dragons.

Then came the obligitory mug to the camera with Ajarn Chalermchai and get some beautiful signed prints of his paintings which he sells to raise money for the building work. This is a fabulous place, and well worth a visit if you’re in Chiang Rai.

I didn’t like Phnom Penh (gallery) when I got here yesterday. It was raining, dark and seemed a bit sinister to me - possibly because of the “no guns, no knives, no handgrenades” signs outside the bars.

But I’ve warmed to it today. There’s some wonderful old colonial buildings, some photogenically tumbledown, so I had a nice hour snapping them until I remembered that why they’re so tumbledown - the Khmer Rouge destroyed many when they forcibly evacuated the city in 1975.

Then I went to the Tuol Sleng (gallery) detention and torture centre that the Khmer Rouge established in an old high school. When the Vietnamese liberated it,there were only seven people alive out of an estimated 17–20,000 souls who entered. The horrifying tiny cells are still there; the iron beds that people were shackled to for electric shocks are there. The Khmer Rouge, like the Nazis, kept meticulous records of their genocide, so one of the most harrowing aspects of the exhibition is all the detainees’ mugshots. Some are children.

And then to the Killing Fields (gallery) themselves, where the prisoners of Tuol Sleng amongst others were murdered with hammers, axe handles, spades or sharpened bamboo sticks. There’s a beautiful stupa filled with skulls of some of those who have been exhumed, but many still lie under the soil. As you walk around, you notice rags on the floor - but when you try to pick one up, you realise that they are the clothes people were wearing when they were murdered protruding up through the ground. There are bone fragments and teeth littering the pathways as you walk.

And then you realise that the Khmer Rouge were not just an aberration, and that the world isn’t any more vigilant or anxious to protect the weak now than it was in 1975—think of Rwanda, the massacres at Srebrenica, and the current genocide at Darfur.

Then, you thank your gods or your lucky stars that you live in a country where that kind of thing couldn’t happen - and then you wonder whether, given the right circumstances, you might not be floating the corpses of the women you’ve raped and the children you’ve slaughtered down the Thames, or the Rhine, or the Seine.

And then you wonder whether beneath each of our fragile veneers of civilisation, we aren’t each a grinning monster that would smash another human’s skull with a hammer just for enjoyment.

And then, if you’re like me, you go to the nearest bar that plays music and is full of the sound of conversation and laughter, and you drink until you stop thinking.

I’m all templed out, and red as a lobster from the remorseless sun, so decided today to go to the Siem Reap landmine museum.

Cambodia is the nation with the highest number of disabled people, and the vast majority of disabilities are caused by landmines. Cambodia was heavily mined by the USA, Vietnam and the Khmer Rouge during its recent bloodlettings and, when the ceasefire was declared, nobody told the landmines - so between five and ten million of the devices just lie there in the jungle and in farms, waiting to be stepped on. The International Campaign to Ban Landmines reports

In 2005, there were 875 new landmine/UXO [unexploded ordnance] casualties, maintaining the daily average of two new casualties since 2000.

The landmine museum was started by a Cambodian gentleman with the Japanese-sounding name of Aki Ra. As a child, he was forced by the Vietnamese to lay mines, and later worked for the United Nations de-mining. With the money he earned, he set up a small museum where he houses paintings, photos and lots of empty landmine shells. (Photo gallery)

He continues to voluntarily defuse mines that people alert him to, and claims to have made 50,000 safe. Using the $1 museum entrance fee and donations, Mr Aki Ra and his wife take in orphans and children who’ve been disabled by mines, housing them in the museum grounds where they teach them a trade so they don’t need to beg.

Here’s a impressionistic 30 second video taken today of Ta Phrom in the rain, a landmine-crippled Khmer band playing outside Ta Phrom and the Terrace of the Leper King.

Stinky, wonderful Bangkok is the exception, but generally if I’m in South East Asia and travelling in a town for pleasure, I use open vehicles rather than enclosed, air-conditioned vehicles.

There’s something about the smell of South East Asia that I love, particularly in rainy season: a mix of mud, moist vegetation, decomposing garbage and car fumes, cowshit and coriander, all in that sauna-like humidity. You might mock, but that smell defines the region for me.

So, to travel round to the temples, I’ve chartered a tuk-tuk for the last couple of days. My driver is named Nhan (pronounced “Nyen” or ”Nee-en”), and the hotel use him to pick up guests from the airport, so I figured that if they trust him, I can. He’s seems a good guy; he’s genuinely enthusiastic about the temples and artefacts, he drives safely, he’s on time, he quotes sensible prices and he’s pretty mellow about not always trying to sell me stuff.

Sure, he’s tried; he understood my disinclination to go to the shooting range, where you buy a live cow and rent an AK47 to kill it with (it’s apparently very popular with Americans, so I just said, “I’m not American” and he accepted that). He probably thinks I’m mad that I didn’t accept his offer of taking me for a “boom-boom massage”, particularly when he’d already gleaned that my wife is in a different country. I can’t blame him for trying, though; in a country where the average annual income is hundreds rather than thousands of dollars, commerce is commerce.

Nhan’s quite a character. He giggles to himself and points every time we pass western woman with huge breasts, which is most of them in comparison to the very petite Cambodian women. It’s tricky not to warm someone who chuckles with glee at the sight of enormous ladybumps, and you’d think the novelty would have worn off by now - there’s lots of tourists in Siem Reap.

Another great thing about Nhan is his motorcycle helmet. I liked that he had one and wore it, as any man who actually wears a helmet cares about his own personal safety, and as I’m on a small vehicle being towed behind him, it means that I too will hopefully benefit from that care.

While staring at the back of it as we bumped down some entertainingly-surfaced track, I noticed that it was branded ”Space Crown”. I immediately felt massive respect for the anonymous marketing manager in some South-East Asian helmet factory, for he had done to me what every soap-powder advertiser dreams of: he’d made the mundane exotic.

I’d been thinking of boring motorcycle helmets, but those two words ”Space Crown” made me think of exotic, heavily-armoured royal headgear worn by warring intergalactic emperors. I tried to think if I could devise a similarly exciting brand-name that might make me a crash helmet millionaire on my return to the UK.

All I could come up with was ”The James Bond Bionic Time-Travel Tiara” which should be even more thrilling, but I feel its potency is diluted by all those syllables.

Phew. My first day in Siem Reap, Cambodia is coming to an end. Up early to see Angkor Wat, Bayon and finally Ta Phrom has exhausted me - five marvellous hours wandering kilometers in 30+ celcius and humidity.

The tumble-down temples are breathtaking - and perfectly, albeit ironically, exemplify the buddhist idea that everything is impermanent.

Then a massage followed by food and some live apsara dancing - and just time for beer before bed and doing it all again tomorrow.

I’m glad I hadn’t announced it, as I’ve just discovered that my scheduled public appearance at the Rock for Peace concert in Pyongyang, North Korea, is off. Not because I’m crap, either, but because the whole concert is cancelled.

The call

It all started when I stumbled upon a website called Voice Of Korea, which was a site glorifying North Korea run by a UK-based gentleman called Jean-Baptiste Kim. There was a call for musicians to play at the Rock For Peace contest (“the 2007 version of Woodstock rock festival in 1969 but in a different location and with different goals”), so I emailed him expressing my interest, and was delighted when Mr Kim mailed back telling me “At this time, I do not see any problem on you and your members”, which is always a nice to hear.

The song

There was one problem: as an ex-punk rocker, I worried that I might not have enough original material that satisfied Mr Kim’s lyrical requirements:

Lyrics should not contain admirations on war, sex, violence, murder, drug, rape, non-governmental society, imperialism, colonialism, racism, anti-DPRK (Democratic People’s Republic of Korea), and anti-socialism.

A quick look on wikipedia and I discovered the text of Kim Jung Il’s speech of April 14 1965, On Socialist Construction and the South Korean Revolution in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea in which the basis of the Korean philosophy of Juche was outlined. No-one could object to lyrics taken from The Great Helmsman’s speeches, so I wrote back to Mr Kim:

My band have a song called “Juche - OH YEAH!” which we feel would be great to open the concert with (or close it). The audience sings along with the chorus, which is is:

For political independence:
JUCHE! OH YEAH!
For economic self-sustenance:
JUCHE! OH YEAH!
Self-defence in national defence
JUCHE! OH YEAH!

Would that be appropriate?

Mr Kim was gratifyingly enthusiastic, responding:

Thank you for your proposal.

“Juche ! OH YEAH!” can be the opening song of ROCK FOR PEACE and I very much appreciate it.

But I’d like to advise you that ROCK FOR PEACE should not be too political supporting DPRK politics and its system.

ROCK FOR PEACE is an international event where everybody from each different country plays about, sings about the peace without war and the humanity without imperialism or anything they wish.

I am worrying about the criticism of western countries that they might say “ROCK FOR PEACE was just a tool of propagating DPRK and it has really nothing to do with the peace in fact”.

Therefore, your “juche ! OH YEAH!” will be more than great if it tells people the importance of the independence which is also important for others, not only for DPRK.

But it will be just horrible for other international people if it only propagates DPRK without giving importance on freedom in the diversity and peace in the diversity.

The Juche ideology is the philosophy of the freedom and peace in the diversity that admits every nation is different, just like every person, in their own history, traditions, and culture. The juche is, therefore, against the imperialism which forces other nations to follow the way of imperialists. The juche is not the ruling policy but is the philosophy of how to exist for a nation.

ROCK FOR PEACE will be largely participated by international medias such as BBC and AP, therefore, your “juche ! OH YEAH!” will be judged by them. You need to remember this.

I will take “juche ! OH YEAH!” as the opening song if you wisely arrange all these. Thank you.

The disappointment

My wife, Nongyow, showed me once again why she’s the best wife in the world by saying that she absolutely supported my going to North Korea, even though all we artists had to find our own airfare to Beijing.

My excitement mounted, until I logged on to Voice of Korea to see what progress was being made and read that Mr Kim was giving up organising Rock For Peace, and has given up supporting North Korea:

For last ten years, I have done my very best to serve DPRK in great passion … The current regime is not the leader of people but the royal family rules over the people. This should be converted into democratic elections and should give the freedom of speech and thought. People’s lives must be chosen by people’s favours, not by the dictatorial system … I regret my life with DPRK government for last 10 years but will not repeat the same mistake again in future … I also need to announce that ROCK FOR PEACE will be suspended along with myself.

I’m glad that Mr Kim has renounced being an apologist for the horrifying regime in North Korea, but confess to being disappointed; singing Juche! OH YEAH! at the opening of the first rock concert in North Korea would have been something to tell the grandchildren.

As I have in-laws in Oslo, and it’s school half-term, I decided to leave the cold, damp, grey skies of the U.K. for the cold, damp, grey skies of Oslo for a long weekend.

Here’s everything you need to know:

• Oslo’s a very good-looking city, not too high-rise, well-kept, well-planned, with pretty environs that look like Narnia.
• No wonder the Vikings were such good sea-farers; Norwegians seem impervious to scurvy - at least, I never saw anyone eating anything that looked like it might contain Vitamin C. My wife has been there half a dozen times, and has seen no evidence that citrus fruit is actually available in Norway. Although she did observe three people sharing one banana.
• It’s an extraordinarily expensive place; a beer is about £5 a pint; a decent but unexciting meal in a restaurant cost £50 a person.
• Norwegian women have the most spectacular breasts in Europe. However, as they’re so tall and statuesque, they’re more aesthetically fascinating than sexy. (The word they refers to the women, not just the breasts. Obviously.)
• Norwegian people have no sense of personal space, and barge past you without apology, even when there’s no crowd. It don’t think it’s rudeness, but they’re culturally unconcerned with keeping that buffer around them. Which is odd: you’d assume that in a country the size of the moon but has the national headcount of a Staffordshire village that everyone want lots of personal space.
• Everything works properly in Norway. The trains are clean, punctual and fast. You can pay for everything by credit card.
• Don’t believe any nonsense about Norwegians being environmentally conscious. They heat their homes and offices like saunas. So, when you walk into a building from the cold, instead of just taking off your coat and gloves, everyone spends about 45 minutes removing earmuffs, gloves, boots, scarves, vests, undervests, seal-fur underwear, heated pants, goggles etc. I calculate that, on average, Norway loses 38% of the working day to dressing and undressing. That’s probably why everything’s so expensive; it takes so much longer to produce.
• I was expecting Scandinavian people to be grumpy and terse - a bit like Germans with less bodymass and bonus fjords. Instead, everyone I met had an easy, relaxed sense of humour with a ready, infectious laugh.

Oslo rocks. Sell your house, and you could go for a week.