Legends of the hidden temple

Remember 90's Nickelodeon hit show "Legends of the Hidden Temple"? I loved that show and everything about it. BUT the one thing that always bothered me was the limited play time the child contestants got in the fun-zone obstacle course that was the show's set. What a huge waste of a bohemian Chucky Cheese playland that had rock climbing walls instead of crowded tubes and fake quicksand instead of puke-crusted ball pits.

Today I fulfilled a childhood dream of mine. I climbed through the set of Legends of the Hidden Temple. Not the actual television set, the REAL DEAL. Ancient stone buildings of Anchor Wat (in Siem Riep, Cambodia), with Tekken faces and secret blowguns that shoot at you when you try to replace the golden relic with a bag of sand. I have to believe Harrison Ford spent some time here to get into character back in the 80's. These temples were constructed by some mighty men around 1250, and remain in prime shape.


We rented a Lewis (cabby) for the day who took us to an assortment of cool temples. Vanessa was wearing short shorts, so the staff would not allow her Buddha-disrespecting smooth legs into the holy fortresses. We are on lunch break now, on our way to a floating village outside of town, with streets of water that flow like...dirty water.

Children of the Corn - CAMBODIA day 1-2

During my stay in Krabi hospital, the Asian staff had labeled me “Breft Prestor”, rather than Brett Preston Wisniewski (They copied this directly from my passport”). “Breft Prestor” had become my ill alter-ego over the past 7 days. Breft’s only abilities are to eat yogurt, sleep, puke and take Tylenol. Today, Breft Prestor is no more.

Today is the first day I am back to playing shape, feeling primo 100%, like a new lad. Last night we arrived in Phanm Penh, Cambodia- the most 3^rd world place I will ever see. This place is run-down and dirty, but the people are friendly and love George Washington. Dinner was great, we found our first SE Asia pizza that uses mozz sauce rather than ketchup. Muah! Cabby drivers waited outside for us to finish our dinner, practically watching each bite we took. When we finished they swarmed us...”you need ride? Where you go? Where you go?”. There are way too many Tuk Tuk’s (mini bike w/ wagon on back) than demand for Tuk Tuk’s. We rented our own cab guy (Lewis) for the day for $12. Lewis just takes fat naps and waits for us at each stop. “My life perfect”, expressed Lewis.

Child sex tourism is a huge problemo in Cambodia. There are warning signs all over the walls of our hostel that Police will be called if any rat bastards attempt to smuggle kids back to the hostel.

An old British man brought a (legal) Cambodian escort back to the hostel. The hostel clerk is a hardass and gave many-a-threat to the man stating, “If any problems we call police, lock down hostel, and you go prison,’’ the man accepted the heavy caution and rented the room for an hour.

The poor kids here are incredibly aggressive and sometimes eerie. This one 8-year-old boy was bugging me at dinner to buy his books (they come right up to the table and nustle up on you). He knew a handful of set-sales phrases in English. After I declined, he said “You play the game”, with one of those Poltergeist-children horror movie stares. I looked down at his hand, which had a swastika drawn on it. He then busted out a paper/scissors/rock challenge, to which I did not accept, knowing he would emerge victorious. Vanessa pointed out that he was flirting with me, to which I dont even want to think about. I gave his less aggressive sister a slice of pizza and they were on their way.

Another kid followed us for blocks, saying his rehearsed line, “Gimme money gimme money. I need pens and books to go to school.” Luckily, I had a pen in my pocket and offered it to better his education. He declined the gift. I then gave him some money, which he declined, and said “more”. Wha?!. I gave the money to his nicer, cuter sister instead.

Next, Lewis took us to the killing fields, where there was mass genocide of Cambodians just 35 years ago. Very eerie. On the walking paths little bones and pieces of clothing begin to emerge from the buried below. Towers of skulls lie in a monument and the tour guide shows you the tree where they would bash heads up against. Grave pits everywhere.

Today was the jam. So joyous to feel like me again. Prestor no more. Tonight I will drink a long n’ strong Cambodian 40 ounce hopped to perfection. I will love it. I will also feel it. For I have not been training.

Domestic Disturbances and Hospital Needles

To escape the mayhem of Phi Phi island, Vanessa and I head to Krabi, a small poor coastal town. We catch a longtail boat at sunset to our hotel. We have to walk through the water with our baggage to the shore since there is no dock. The room is clean and the small strip of bars features some Thai musicians covering American rock n' roll. We find out that the band for the night makes 3,000 baht ($90) split 5 ways. They are also under contract exclusive contract with the bar to play no where else. Thailand is not the place for aspiring musicians.


We try to catch up on some sleep, but become awoken in the night when the British couple next door goes into a domestic disturbance rage, beyond anything I saw in the Vince Vaughn film. The fight goes as follows (picture  British accents)...

Woman: Give me the god damn key Hector!
Hector: no.
(Scuffle with loud screams and thuds)
Woman: Now look what you've done! You have a bloody nose!
(Hector crying, more scuffling and the loudest screaming i've ever heard)
Woman: You turned me into a physco!!!!! You knocked out my tooth and I forgave you! You make me want to kill myself! Get out of my life!

-END SCENE-

After the domestic, I awake in the morning to a pounding headache, chills, and body aches. I decide to ride it out, but do not improve after 2 days. We go to the hospital- a small Muslim joint in small Krabi town. No one speaks English. Arabic pours out of the loudspeakers around the hospital yard.


I see the doctor who looks like an Asian Fred Savage. I explain my symptoms. He explains in that I may have "Linky Fever", a DEADLY mosquito transmitted disease. He barely speaks English and the only words he seems to know are "Disease", "Permanent", and "dead"...

Doc: "You have symptom of Linky Fever. It make you dead." (He looks terrified when he speaks)

My eyes roll back in my head and I pass out from dehydration. They take me backstage to the lab where chicks in shalls are pouring blood into vials, I immediately think of Val Kilmer in "Island of Dr. Moroeu", where Kilmer breeds humans with hyenias for Marlon Brando's twisted viewing pleasure. I get some blood work done. It seems to be clean and safe enough. They keep me overnight. Vanessa does a great job to comfort me and convince me I dont have AIDS. The hospital food is bunk. She goes on 7/11 runs for yogurt and Capri Sun. They give me strange medicines, which I decide to take, giving me strange vivid dreams, unlike anything i've experienced. Dreams such as....

I'm bar hopping with Danny DeVito, having a strange but great time until he gets hit by a mountain bike crossing the road, END OF DREAM.

We check out in the morning after I feel a bit better and the blood work shows I dont have any deadly disease. We get to a hotel. I continue to feel weak and headachy for days (symptoms like Mono). We fly to Bangkok and go to the best hospital in Thailand where they draw more blood and determine I do not have linky fever, denge fever, or AIDS, just a giant case of being a pussy. Turns out I have a nasty viral infection/flu.


So after 7 wasted days, I am attempting to shake off this curse and make it to Cambodia with Vanessa. She has spent her whole trip taking care of me in hospitals and hotels. I am in great debt to her. We hope to salvage these last few days and take the fun meter levels to a new high. I will get some great still frames from the hospital up soon.

The Dirty South and more!

Departed the North to meet up with my girlfriend Vanessa in Phuket, Southern Thailand. Pretty excited to get some company on the trip after traveling solo. She is a beach enthusiast and thrilled to head for the sand. I point out she is whiter than me. We hit the beach and she is soon more tan than my pasty ass after 3 hours on the beach. She tans well. A Thai passerby asks me if i'm Irish...grrrr...She passes for a Thai resident and gets a discount at the Zoo.


The theme down here is white people getting drunk. Our neighborhood in Phuket was like a crappier version of Cancun. Trinket town shops packed with in-your-face salesmen selling pseudo Rolex. The entertainment in Southern Thailand is pretty funny. It includes entry-level Thai men singing Elvis songs over a loop track with Christmas lights lining their Flock-O-Seagulls keyboard.

On the plus side, the beaches are the most stunning on the globe. Phi Phi, the first island we went to featured beaches showcased in the Hollywood film, "The Beach", in which super-stud teen heartthrob Leo DiCaprio sets out to find the world’s perfect sandbox. The weather is perfecto and the setting has certainly tapped into our optical pleasure.


We climb a mountain to our bungalow in Phi Phi. A strange British chap named Phil checks us in. Phil looks like Frodo from the Trilogy, plus barbed wire tattoos and a Chang beer belly. Phildo Baggins takes us to our room, which is equipped with the following features...

- Three (3) pubes on the toilet seat
- One (1) terd in toilet
- Six (6) to eight (8) stains on the sheet from various varieties of substance. (We pretend it is puke and pray it is not manJuice.)


We deal with it and go out for the night. The tiny streets are packed with garbage and euro B.O. One bar features a boxing ring with "Beat up your friend night" for a free round of drinks.

The calling card drink here is a "BUCKET". The bucket consists of a bottle of cheap Thai whiskey, Coke, and Red Bull, which tastes like a Bull's red ass hole. The bar mangers feed young foreigners this stuff and pay them $9/night to promote their bar. We talked to one 21 year old British promoter named Lewis, who was riding high on party performance enhancers and completely content with getting drunk by himself, as long as he gets drunk for free.
Still Jet-lagged, we head in early, impressed by the BAC of the Spring-Break party below. Phildo Baggins recommends we sleep with the lights on to keep bugs out. Does this make sense? We exploit Phil’s intelligence and convince him to refund our coin for the second night. We check out early after sleeping one night in PukePoint Bungalows, and head to the coast, Krabi Town.

Pai - seconds

I can hardly believe this day happened. I chill all afternoon, rent a moped, and buy a guitar from the townie Muslim guitar shop. It's quite strange to see black masked ladies in shalls crusin down 101 in crotch rockets. I chat with 2 music club owners who speak some English. They both tell me to come back at 9pm to play a set. I am all jacked up.

I proceed to find some lounge time before the Asian rock-off. My hut is next to 2 Thai guys who have come to Pai to sell shoes at the evening market. One of them is playing guitar. These guys look way cooler than me. One has 7-years worth of dreads while the other has a perfectly spherical ABA baller fro.  I bust out my new Muslim geetbox. Afro tunes it for me because I cant tune a guitar by ear. He is a legendary human guitar tuner. His guitar playing itself is not of legendary status, but we jam anyway. I teach him "Watering Hole" and the porch becomes a three-man jam with Thai neighbor #2 slapping the porch with a spoon for percussion. 



I take a quick snooze and proceed to play an acoustic set at the bar neighboring my hut.
SETLIST...
-The States
-Watering Hole
-Fortunate Son
-Hotel Room in Casablanca
-News

A hippy-ish Canadian chick follows me with Cranberries covers. Apparently Pai just loves the Cranberries, yet no one ever plays their chick-rock smash "Zombie". What is wrong with these people?

We leave. McBritain gives me a lift on his moped. He is 4-deep, but no longer feels the effects of beer due to his 40 day bender. He is fine to drive.


We go to Beebop, the happening rowdy town bar for jam sesh #2. This place is a nitty-gritty,down n' dirty live rock club. Picture Jean Claude Van Damn playing Russian roulette in some bar in the orient in an 80's assKicker film. That image is Beeebop. Cig smoke covers the room as Thai dudes in bandanas and tats pound booze out of giant liquor fishbowls.


We form a band on stage. McBritain plays the drums, he's got the chops to backbone this spontaneous rock-a-thon. Cha, the bar owner, who spawned the Pai music scene 10 years ago, joins up as well. He comes out from the back room with a pink Hello Kitty guitar. He makes the pile-o-dung 6-string sound like a dream. Cha can shred. Thank god he can solo, cause I sure as hell can't. Thomas Heineken, a 2-toothed skinny German man plays bass. Thomas is beyond shitfaced. It doesnt matter. This man can rock. Physically, he looks like a corpse, but still looks badass when he lays down the groove. A cig hangs in his mouth and never leaves. Thomas and McBritain seem to be racing for who can puff more heaters during the set. I take rhythm guitar and lead voice. An ill Goggles snaps a few crummy pics.


I show the dudes 5-6 American rock n' roll tunes. They are veterans and pick up the songs in a heartbeat.
SETLIST...
-Hey Joe
-She's a Wreck
-I will Survive
-Hook
-Stand up for your Rights
-Lie in all Honesty

Beebop is ragin'. Thais are dancin'. A strung out hippy-Thai guy comes on stage for a Bob Marley cover in Bm. A random old Dutch dude arrives for a Harmonica solo. Almost none of us speak the same language, which makes this jam even more magical. McBritain takes a drum solo, we build it up. McBritain is a stern, composed man. I havent seen him smile once in the 48 hours we've hung out, but on this night we exchange shit-eating grins in the double digits. We finish the jam with a smash. We are riding high on post-gig euphoria and proceed to rage with the locals. Thomas thanks me and gives me a hug, he smells homeless. Pai makes my heart do flips.


It is time to leave Pai. I go to the shanty-garage of a bus station, interrupting 3 old locals getting schmaggled on Thai whiskey in the backroom. One "gentlemen" comes to sell me a ticket. He is genuinely pissed off to be doing so. I take a picture with him anyway.

I get one the bus back to Chaing. It is filled with 10 middle-aged Thai women and one white cracker from Wisconsin. The ride is bumpy and swirvy like a temporary Carny ride at the local fair. The Thai lady to my left begins ralphing into a bag. We are packed like sardines. My left leg catches a spray. This sets off a chain reaction of stomach juice. The 2 ladys directly behind me begins roaring with puke-age. The whole bus is vomiting except me, which is unfair because I am clearly the most hungover. I pat the Thai lady on back as she grabs another puke bag.

Those 48 hours in Pai were almost not real. I met a load of townies and tapped into the music scene just by spending a handful of glorious moments in the "chillest place in the world."

What a generous, joyous, group of people- the Pai's. What other group of folks actually like and respect tourists in their town? Pai locals. I want to take them all with me.

Pai- Eat it up

Pai is a myth. A small town nestled in the mountains, this gem looks like a Thai version of a Lord of the Rings village. Took 4 hours of windy mountain roads to arrive, even though Pai only sits 50 miles from Chiang Mai. A magnificent drive with Zen-like views, though most passengers had the vomit sucked from the bottom of their souls due to the chaotic driving of Stickshifting Thai minibus driver.

I arrived in Pai sweaty and alone. It took but 5 minutes to meet some friendly foreigners who had come to Pai on a whim, and never left, sucking on their foreign bank accounts ever so slowly. (Accomodation is $3-4/night). I met a hacky-sack enthusiast from SoCal who described Pai as "The Chillest Place on Earth." His name is Chad (Go figure). Chad is correct.

Aesthetically, this is the coolest looking place I have ever seen. Tiny treefort cafes, bars, and fancy shantys hug the Kate Moss thin road. Power goes out once per day and the town is lit by candles. Charming. No ransackery ensues.

Unless you are frying bananas or pork-stick at a street vendor, you do nothing during the day. This is grand. No one works. They just chill in sandles and sip Chang Beer and moonshine (locally made). However, there is a random/strange Thai law that prohibits beer sales from the hours of 11:00-2:00. No one knows why this law exists.

Hungry, I looked for dinner and potential temporary friends. I stumbled upon 2 music-junkie drifters from England, Don Goggles and Pat McBritain. McBritain is the jam. He’s a drummer who played in a indie-band before he became a nomad. This dude is everything I stereotyped a Brit-indie hipster to be- hash train conductor hat, tight pants, v-neck, and rolls his own cigs, smoking one-after another in machine gun fashion. Goggles is a mega nerd, but he’s money. He’s one of those guys who just looks sweet. He’s not handsome or smooth, but he looks like McCartney in the 60’s, minus the dashing good looks, plus chop sideburns and weezer glasses. He’s walks like he’s got a stick in his butt, yet he looks legit doin’ it.


McBritain and Goggles are advocates of hops-brewed beverages. The go out and see music every night, thus having major Pai scene cred. They know all the musicians and facts about them…

Me: “Whoah, check out that guys dreds!” (Down to his ankles)
Goggles: “That’s Took from Chaing. He’s been growing them for 14 years.”
Goggles proceeds to see a treefort recording studio the next day, owned by a local German hippie.

The pai music scene is sick. I have never seen more dreads. Much reggae, opium, and Blink 182 cover bands. Their thick Thai accents make the songs hilarious. Goggles introduced me to a few of the Thai music bar owners, so I’m trying to get an opening set for the house band tonight.

I am living in a bungalow shanty with a nice mosquito net and a mattress, yet it is the most comfortable bed ive had on the trip. There is a great difference between “Touristy” and “Tourist-friendly,” Pai is the ladder.

I continue to feast like a king and throw funny-money around on gifts for lads in Madison.


The plumbing is suspect. I've clogged 3 toilets since i've been here. No dis to the Pai cooking, all healthy stools. But not even the Thai Super Mario can handle the American mastery of dominating the can. I apologize to the 4'5'' Thai grandma who kept the toilet shop. (Cost of toilet use, 5 cents).

I am really dehydrated from the coffee and late night of live-music and campfire beer slurping. Gonna grab an h20. Talk soon!
Newski

Chiang Mai, peace!

I missed the bus to Pai this AM. Sold Out. Damn shame. About to catch the 1pm bus. Significantly pumped. Soooo....



I had 3.5 hrs to kill and I could not ask for a better place to burn the time than the CHIANG. Got a 1 hr massage from a chisled thai man who gave me knucks afterwards. Then grabbed a few tshirts, an ice cream, a thai omelette for all around $12. This is the easiest place to travel alone. Its pretty western, many a folk speak English, and no one is out to jip you.



Yesterday I found a gym in a 5 star hotel and bro'd out in the iron factory. Swell!!! Went to the sunday night market for some quality trinkets. The tshirts here are hilarious and mind blowing. SUNDAY MARKET PURCHASES...
- One (1) T-shirt with a panda farting in another panda's face
- One (1) T shirt with a dyslexic monkeys resume. Hobbies include "graphic design and poop poking"
- Two (2) more shirts with Thai jibberish along the same vein
- One (1) pair of Ninja pants

Chaing Mai is tied for my favorite place on earth with Madison, WI. The people are so damn smiley and happy and not a single thai guy is pissed off, except this one dude who operated the local guitar shop. I was jamming some Barenaked Ladies on one of his guitars. Apparently he hates "Stunt", the greatest album of the 90's.

Gonna miss the bus again, so I best go. Talk to you all soon!

Newski

Chaing Mai - Day 1-2

Friends and Fam,

So far all good. I saw the Big Unit Bill Micheals in the airport. THe flight was quick, as I time warped with sleeping medication and Japanese brewsky. All Nippon airways treats you like a king! Hot towels, nice meals (I ate eel), green tea, beer, wine, and smiles cemented into the faces of their 5'1'' 100 lb cutie-supreme flight attendants. I find it funny that asian airlines still maintain the 1970's physical requirements for their flight attendants.

Spent one quick night on the outskirts of Bangkok. Listened to some Dutch dudes argue about religion for awhile, then relocated to some kids from Nebraska who smoked less cigs in my intimate space. Dorm room hostels really blow. There were 10 beds in my room. So there are always people coming in n out and turning on lights, and someone undoubtedly roar-snores like Kong.

I arrived in Chiang Mai (North) this AM. THis place is epic. Small narrow streets packed with OUTDOOR CAFES and trinkit shops. Super touristy, but also with much culture. Such a peaceful, comforting spot. Internet is everywhere and white people are in ready supply to point you in the right direction.

I've stared to dabble in the street food. Some stands look good, but others are a sketchFest. Some street vendors clearly do not wash their hands after they poop, but overall the stuff is pretty edible. The cleanliness is not comparable to that of Mexico and sanitary conditions are taken somewhat seriously.

Chiang Mai is the jam for the following reasons...

-I just got a 90 minute massage from a 4' Thai woman for $4.



-Feasted for $3, capped with a fruit smoothing
-My own room equipped with shower, AC, and a bed that could sleep 2-3 Lers
I havent been here long, but more fun to come. Nap, then going to meet up with a Madison Mifflin neighbor whos teaching here. Then rage like Joe Madden on a Badger gameday.
Keep you in the loop.



Newski