Ending 2014 with hospitals and hermit crabs.

So I'm back guest blogging, which can only mean one thing--SOMETHING WENT WRONG!  You all must have wondered why the blogs abruptly ended, and you will now find out why.

We left the idyllic floating bungalows and went on a two and a half hour drive to our final destination--the beach resort.  The first night we were in one resort, and then the next three nights we were to stay at one down the beach.  This was clearly the part of the trip I would excel at, because, duh.  We got to the resort around 4:00, got settled and did some exploring.  See, that's the hotel's New Years/Christmas display.  Pretty cool, huh?

Around 5:30pm, however, disaster struck.  And by disaster, I mean every traveler's worst nightmare--I got sick. Very sick.  Very very very sick.  Stomach bug/virus/parasite/bacteria/whoknowswhat sick. I was sick for hours and hours with no end in sight and it just kept getting worse.  Somewhere in the midst of it all I remember being really glad Dave had already proposed, or he surely would have rethought the whole "forever" thing with me.  He saw some things that cannot be unseen.  The only other thing running through my head during this time was the chicken soup with little chunks of chicken in it that I had at the floating bungalows.  The same chicken soup that Dave DIDN'T eat. Even typing it now makes my stomach flip.

Anyways, after lots of back and forth telemedicine with Dave's dad in the US (thanks Gary!) we decided it would be best that I see a doctor.  However, at this point it was about 10:00 at night and there were no doctors.  My only option was the hospital.  Since I was in so much pain, was shaking like crazy and had lost so much water, we had no choice and headed out to our next adventure--exploring the Thai medical system. On the way, the really nice cabdriver confirmed my diagnosis and said it must have been something I ate in Khao Sok.  The rest of the way, he was just worried I'd puke in his car (which I did not, thank you).

We got the hospital. This was no Mt. Sinai, guys.  This was not even St. Vincent's (and I mean after it was condemned). This was a hospital/mass casualty zone.  I don't really even know what that means, but you can see for yourself:

At the time, I didn't tell Dave to take a picture, because talking was a lot of effort (further proof I was REALLY sick--when do I not talk?), but I remember wanting to tell him to take a pic because I knew at some point this would be really funny.  Dave pulled through and took a photo even without me asking.  What a nice guy!

The doctors(?) gave me some much needed meds for my pain, fluids for my dehydration, and treated my fever with some very special stuff they called Tylenol (all double checked over the phone by Dave's dad, Gary the Hero).  About two hours later we took the thirty minute cab ride back to our hotel, laden with a panoply of Thai medicines to ease my symptoms.  All of this cost $8.50 USD Don't worry, they gave me a form to file with my insurance when I get back to the US.

The next two days were pretty much a blur.  We switched hotels.  I slept a lot.  I watched some Sons of Anarchy on Dave's iPad.  I slept some more.  Basically, whatever was in this chicken soup at the floating bungalows had run me over like a semi and I was totally and utterly wiped out.  Dave spent those next two days mostly watching me to make sure I didn't die (spoiler--I did not).  He also dispensed the panoply of Thai medicines to me.  He was a real trooper and a great nurse.  He also spent some time alone on the beach, watching the sunset, while I was passed out:

Slowly but surely, I came around.  On the 31st we went to the beach for a few hours.  Dave found a cool hermit crab for me:

We then went to a really odd New Years Eve party thrown by our hotel.  Needless to say, I did not make it to New Years--but made a decent showing, all things considered. 

On our last day at the beach I was finally feeling back to normal.  Back to conquering the resort, Erica!  I went into the ocean and in literally under a minute was stung by a jellyfish on my entire left leg.  It was at this point, I quit trying to excel in Khao Lak.  I just sat in one place and read my book for the rest of the trip while Dave googled "how to get your fiancee out of Thailand alive."

Dave's googling worked and yesterday we got out of Thailand alive!  We spent the night in Taipei and are exploring the city today until we leave for NYC at 7:30 tonight.  Here's some pics from Taipei (which is a really cool city.  one with no jellyfish and hopefully no parasitic food)

I hope you all enjoyed our blog. It was a great trip with some really memorable moments!  See you back in NYC!

Day?!: Leaving Chiang Mai & the Flungalows of Khao Sok

Hi guys! A lot has happened since we last spoke--when Erica told you about our mountain biking debacle.

We spent the next day largely relaxing. Erica got a massage and I hung out at the pool of our sorta-janky-but-fine hotel. It was relaxing: 

Later, we went to the chiang mai night market, which was cool! There were tons of locals ware-peddling. 

Erica liked it

We also saw this sign showing how far we are from home--or it would have if "kilometers" was an acceptable form of measurement. 

We even stumbled upon a sassy Thai dame lipsinging. 

We thought about having dinner at the night market--specifically in an Iraqi restaurant--but thought we were due for some pampering: and the Le Meridian was just a block away. There, Erica met Santa

Then, we found the Le Meridien restaurant, where we both had cheeseburgers. They tasted like America (i.e., awesome ).

Erica also had a few sips of wine.

After dinner, we walked home through what can only be called Prostitution Row. Literally every bar on this block was filled with ostentatious displays of the oldest profession. We took a few home with us and went to sleep.

TO THE SOUTH

The next morning we left Chiang Mai and the North of Thailand to head south: to Phuket, Khao Sok and Khao Lak. This is a whole different Thai experience: instead of mountains and tribes, we'll see beaches, resorts and tropical lakes. 

The latter was our first stop: floating bungalows accessible only by long-tail boat deep in the heart of Khao Sok National Park, an area of exceptional beauty. This is a view of the area from the longtail boat:

After about an hour boat ride, we arrived on the floating bungalows:

So many things about the flungalows (Erica's word, I called them the bungs...) were cool.  For example, the dining room had a whole in the floor that revealed a ton of fish:

We spent the night on the Flungs, and the morning was stunning:

Here I am in the morning. 

And here is Erica, from our "deck"

We then went on a morning boat-safari to look for monkeys, hornbills, and bears.  We mostly just saw monkeys, but they were still quite cool and jumpy:

These monkeys are called "Dusky Langurs", which everyone agrees is a cool name.

The whole area basically looked like Jurassic Park

Guest Post: Erica's (Many) Thoughts on Mountain Biking in Chiang Mai

[editor's note: what follows are Erica's contemplations on the nature of mountain biking in Thailand] 

Thus far Dave and I have been kicking ass in Thailand.  We haven't gotten lost, haven't fallen off of elephants, haven't been run over by cars in the anarchy of Thai streets and, most importantly, haven't drank the water (thus not having any bouts of you know what.)

However, after six days of kicking ass, yesterday, Thailand kicked our ass. Big time. 

It started over breakfast the day before.  I had pulled all the biking-related brochures to plan our next day trip.  The conversation was as follows:

Me: want to go mountain biking tomorrow? We can go in the national park and even do a hike there first.  You love national parks, Dave!

Dave: I don't care.  It may be nice to just do an easier bike trip on roads.  But whatever you want. [Dave returns to eating his Thai omelette which is just eggs over rice]

Me: nah, let's do this "hike and bike" trip.  It looks awesome.  Plus, I really like mountain biking. 

Here's where I must stop the reader.  I do like mountain biking and I am very good at it.  However, this was when I was 12 at Jewish sleep away camp.  I was so good that I passed the test to go on an off-site bike trip.  And I crushed it.  I was the best little Jewish camp bike rider there ever was.  

However, cutting your mountain biking teeth in Asheville, North Carolina at the age of 12 amongst pre-teen, awkward Jewish kids does not prepare you for biking the trails of Southeast Asia when you are 32.  (This is foreshadowing). 

ON OUR WAY [erica's posts have subheadings --ed.]

The next morning we departed for our adventure. First we picked up a motley crew of people who clearly did not have the training or skill set I possessed for the art of mountain biking.  One French guy in a Wu-Tang tank top only brought a half-full bottle of water and nothing else.  What a chump.  We had TWO full bottles of water, snacks bought from one of the 3 million 7-11s here and a backpack.  (Another thing I learned at Jewish sleep away camp is to never run out of snacks.  Ever).  

So we all get deposited at the cycling center where we get our helmets and just wait around.  The Thai do not appreciate timeliness.  Then they split us into groups "regular riders go to this car.  Hike and bike to that car."  Wu-tang Frenchie does not join us.  Only two other couples amongst the masses join us, in fact.  This is when I realize I have made a mistake.  A huge mistake.  

The first couple is a nice Norwegian man and wife who are both built like they have spent their whole lives running and skiing through the snow covered mountains outside of Oslo, subsiding only on fish and the occasional salad.  Which, coincidentally, they have.  In fact, our Nordic friend said he dislikes heli-skiing because he enjoys the climb to the tops of mountains too much.  The climb with all his skiing gear.  In the snow.  To the top of the mountains that most everyone does not want to climb (hence the use of a helicopter).  

The second couple was no better.  They were a ridiculously fit duo from Singapore.  The wife had recently returned from a month cross country ski trip across the entire country of Greenland.  But not to worry, she hasn't been training too hard since then.  Only running--and by the looks of her legs, a lot of "only running".  

But our group is friendly and they don't seem to be judging our level of athleticism in the same way I am judging them.  I make a joke about Frozen and the Norwegians are nice enough to laugh.  I then ask them if Santa brings children presents in shoes.  They look perplexed.  Looking back, I think I was confusing Norway with the Netherlands.  Or maybe France.  I don't know.  [it was the Netherlands -ed.]

Also, they don't even know about my training at Camp Blue Star.  I don't tell them either.  I'll make it a surprise.    

THE HIKE AND BIKE BEGINS

We start on what the guides tell us will be a 10km hike.  Dave uses an app that tells us it will be about 6 miles.  I know it's supposed to be mostly uphill, but hiking is just walking, and I'm really good at walking.  Not to mention we did a 16 mile hike in August in Yellowstone.  6 miles?  No.  Big.  Deal.  

Dave and I scamper off and lead the pack through the jungle.  We are mostly going downhill and are doing great.  We climb over trees, wade little rivers and see cool trees that look like elephants 

Finally we get to a beautiful waterfall and take a photo break (not that we need a break since we are kicking butt).  

But in Thailand the laws of physics are reversed and what goes down, must go up.  Way up.  

We begin our ascent, starting with an almost vertical climb up that once-idyllic waterfall.  Legs get tired, trees are grabbed as makeshift ladders, feet slip, and the Singaporeans and Norwegians begin to get smaller and smaller.  Our hike consists of the following pattern: walk, climb, stop for water, tell the worried guide we are okay, talk about hitting the gym hard when back in NYC, gather energy and repeat.  Every so often our foreign teammates will stop and wait for us--which is nice in a very patronizing, humiliating way.  Walking up to them panting and covered in sweat makes me feel like in some way I am giving credence to whatever stereotypes they have about lazy Americans.  Sorry for that America.  

But we finish the hike!  And all things considered, we really didn't suck that bad.   Now all we have left is what the guide described as an "easy downhill ride" to rest our legs.  

We then ate some cool noodle/pork soup in a H'mong village.  

MOUNTAIN BIKING

We gear up for the biking section.  My time to shine!  We put on our helmets, knee pads and elbow pads.  No ones pads stay velcroed because the equipment is about as shitty as it could possible be.  No problem though.  I just remind Dave to keep his butt back and his feet parallel--things I learned back in the mountains if NC--so he doesn't fall.  There was no formal training on the bikes, so good thing I was there to help Dave out.  

And then we start.  The road is uneven, rocky and so steep that rocks kicked up by bikes fly down the mountain with great speed.   I am scared.  I was not prepared for this.  I squeeze my brakes as much as I can without having my bike flip forward.  This is nothing like Jewish sleep away camp.  

We stop for a quick lesson. "pump your breaks" says our guide "if not the rubber burns."   And the rubber was burning--you could smell it.  Me and the other girls all expressed our fear, but then we were off again.  I don't think they were as scared as they had said.  

And then I had my first fall.  I was going pretty slow, since I was fighting my hardest not to give into gravity and let the mountain zoom me downhill.  That's when Dave started getting scared too--not for himself, but for me.  And he was right to be fearful.  

We press on, but I fall again. A lot harder.  The nice Singaporean man removes my bike off of me.  I got a cool scratch.  I say a lot of not cool phrases, mostly beginning with "fuck" and ending with "I hate this."

After this fall, Singaporeans and Norwegians go ahead of Americans, and I feel as if I am in some sort of horrible Olympics where America continues to suck at all events and shame their country.  

The rest of the ride goes a bit like this: Dave asks me if I'm okay.  I reprimand Dave for talking to me.  Too scared to talk.  I fall a little.  Dave checks on me.  Dave asks if I want to walk.  I say no waking! I want this to be over and get back on the bike.  Then things get steeper and I start to walk.  More curse words.  Rinse and repeat.  

At one point I took my water out of Dave's bag to rinse out my shoulder wound.  I forget to zip up the backpack all the way.  Two minutes later--crash!  This time it's Dave.  He is covered in both mountain bike and water bottles.  The water bottles fell out of the backpack and caused him to get off balance and fall.  Great.  Now I am not only going to kill myself on this mountain, but I'm taking Dave with me. [this hurt a lot. -ed.]

Finally, we see a truck.  In what was the guide's best English he says to me "safety first" and motions to the car.  I crack a quick joke that I want to keep going, but everyone knows that is a lie.  "Halfway" the guide exclaims and we hi five.  The guide breathes a sigh of relief that he won't loose (probably another) biker this week.  We get in the car.  I am carrying a big piece of humble pie on my lap. 

On the way back to the lake to meet those who actually finish the ride, we see the Singaporean lady.  She wants to quit too!  as she gets in the car I tell her how much better I feel that she quit too.  She and Dave both give me odd looks.  Dave whispers that she is not the Singaporean lady and was doing a different trail. Further disgrace to America. 

We made it to a pretty lake and hung out there for awhile.  

Norwegians and Singaporeans join us, talk about how invigorating the ride was.  Whatever, at least I see more sun than the Norwegians do in the winter.  

We head home and Dave and I fall asleep and sleep through dinner--and the night.  What a great wedding diet!

[nice post, Erica! Very loquacious. -ed.]

Days 5: A Christmas Stroll around Chiang Mai

Merry Christmas, gentiles! We were supposed to go to an elephant rescue Park today, but we decided nothing could top the elephant experience we already had, so we skipped it. I'd already paid for half of it but everything is cheap as fuck here so no big D. 

Instead, we took an aimless stroll around Chiang Mai, a cute little city with temples and Buddhas around every corner. 

It's pretty cool -- the temples and wats just pop up out of nowhere.

These are the three Kings, who founded Chiang Mai eight hundred years ago. 

This was a lovely walk.

Later, we went to an insect museum, because Erica loves bugs. For lack of better words, this museum sucked. 

This is the museum. Like all of it. 

All the bugs were dead, and it took about five minutes to see everything, all of which was boring. Notably, this spot has a 4.5 rating and is ranked #15 of over 500 spots in Chiang Mai--our first indication that the ratings system here may be a little out of whack. More on that later.

We then headed back to our hotel via a Thai bridge (meaning it was pretty ramshackle). 

Next we went to an expat bar, where I tried and failed to teach Erica chess. Uncomfortably, there were two separate tables of old white men with young Thai women at the bar. Prostitutes abound! This made Erica unhappy. 

We closed out the day with a Thai massage (Erica), some Thai beer (Dave), and dinner of Indian food, our first non-Thai cuisine of the trip.

More fun in Chiang Mai

Sorry for the short blogging hiatus. Riding elephants was so exciting that we just slept for the next 48 hours. Not really--but we do sleep a lot. 

Anyway, the elephant shiz was actually just part 1 of our day on Wednesday. Parts 2 and 3 were a hike to a waterfall and longneck village, and a bamboo whitewater rafting ride, respectively. Both of those were varying shades of cool, but couldn't hold a candle to the shadeless elephant experience #weirdmetaphor. 

I didn't really take too many pictures of this part, but here are a few. 

This isn't a waterfall, but it is a sign about a waterfall. 

This is the longneck tribe. So this part was pretty odd: the longnecks are not giraffes, despite what the young U.S. Military guy traveling with us thought (sidebar: this guy had a paid-for Thai female "companion" with him, and it was pretty uncomfortable for us to see). The longnecks are tribal refugees from Burma who wear these bad rings around their necks that lengthen their necks. It's a real thing, but the village we hiked to was not authentic. There were a handful of people who maybe lived there but likely did nit--despite professing abject poverty, they seemed pretty clean and well put together, and one was conspicuously covering her left hand to obscure her digital watch. So this part was pretty scammy. You can sort of see the purported longnecks in the picture above, but we didn't get any good shots because it feels weird to take pictures of humans like their in the zoo. In fact, just like the zoo, there was even an informational kiosk:

The hike was still cool though. Here's a picture of Erica in front of a rice paddy field. 

We went to a second village of the  Karen  Tribe, which was only slightly more authentic. It had no smoking signs, satellite dishes, and a lot of pigs. 

They stank.