May 30: Travel Day, Nong Khai to Bangkok

Up early for a 7:30 departure this morning, only to arrive at the Nong Khai train station at 7:10 to find no train waiting for us. Bought a ticket for the train and was told that we'd travel by bus to Udon Thani, about 50 km south of Nong Khai, where we would board the train.

Of course, heading out by bus at 7:30 put us into Udon Thani just in time for rush hour. By the time the 20 of us had boarded the train, we were already 45 minutes behind schedule, which meant the 12 hours I had planned on in Bangkok was already shrinking.

The air conditioned, second class train car was comfortable and only one-quarter full, while the third class car I peeked at was jammed to the gills, with three Thais sitting in a space that two Westerners would find adequate, but not roomy. An endless stream of vendors walked back and forth, getting on and off the train, selling drinks and all sorts of food. With a few dollars in your pocket and a sense of adventure in your palate, it would be hard to go hungry on this train.

We finally arrived at Bangkok's Hualamphong station close to 7:00 p.m., nearly an hour late. Unlike the evening Shelly and I had been waiting for our train to Nong Khai last week, the CD shop in the station wasn't blaring the music of John Denver, Kenny Rogers and Glen Campbell. I dropped my bags at a hotel across the street then headed to a supermarket to buy something for dinner (the ever-exciting salad bar which, after 10 days in Laos actually was pretty exciting) and some fruit for breakfast. Tomorrow is, yet again, another travel day.

May 29: Nong Khai, Thailand

I stayed at the same guest house in Vientiane that we had stayed at at the beginning of our trip.

I was awake at 6:00 this morning -- to many early mornings will do that -- but guiltily went back to sleep when I heard the rain pounding on the tin roof outside my window. "I should be getting up and heading to the morning market," I thought. "I have to get a backpack."

My 300 peso backpack, purchased in Manila, had completely fallen apart after a week in Laos. I had a tailor sew a few seams back together when we had been in Vientiane, but it continued to disintegrate until the zipper fell apart and rendered the bag worthless. But what can you expect for six bucks?

So, naturally, I was headed to the market, where I'd probably buy another six dollar backpack. It turns out the morning market isn't an early morning market, so I was glad I had slept until 8. When I arrived at 8:30, a third of the stalls were still closed, but I did manage to find a decent North Face backpack for $9. It looks like it will hold together better, even though I question whether it is actually a North Face product. The first hint, aside from the ridiculously cheap price, is that while the bag is yellow and black, the zipper to the main compartment is forest green and the straps on the back are navy blue. Or maybe the North Face is doing interesting things with colors these days.

I found the tuk tuk driver we had used a couple times and paid him for a ride to the border, where I stamped out of Laos and back into Thailand. Found another tuk tuk driver to take me to a guest house along the Mekong in the city of Nong Khai. I was only in Nong Khai for a few hours, but I wanted to see the strange sculpture park known as Salakaewkoo. Without question, this is one of the strangest places I've ever been. I met an old man working in the main building, who let me ring an enormous gong and showed me, through a glass wall, the mummified body of the artist, who is reclining in what looks to be a rather comfortable bed. After a $1 sunset cruise on the Mekong with two Australians I met and a handful of other tourists, I had an early dinner and an early bed time. Tomorrow is another travel day.

May 28: Travel Day, Luang Prabang to Vientiane

I had arranged a tuk tuk driver two nights ago at the night market, so he was waiting for me when I stumbled out of the guest house at 7:15 to catch the 8:00 bus back to Vientiane. From my scribbled notes taken on the sometimes-bumpy bus:

-Plenty of Thai music videos, including one starring a guy who looks and acts a lot like Elton John. There's a gorilla in his video.

-Wildlife report (for Mom): dogs, cats, pigs with black hair, turkeys, an uncountable number of chickens, carabao and goats, all wandering along the side of -- and sometimes through the middle of -- the highway.

-Bus driver honks a lot to scare aforementioned goats and carabao off the road.

-Satellite dishes set up in the tiny, remote villages along the highway.

-Remember: Take Dramamine before the bus leaves on its curvy, mountainous journey.

-It's early Sunday morning, and loads of people are out working in the fields, doing road work, building things, etc.

-I saw the same foreigner twice, both coming and going, in a tiny village, once getting water from the village water supply, and once watching two men climb a power pole. Who is he? Why is he there? Is the Peace Corps in Laos?

-Corn fields planted on impossibly steep slopes. John Deere is not going there!

***

I did have a bit of adventure on this trip. (Our trip to Luang Prabang was problem-free, fortunately.) About two hours outside of Luang Prabang, the bus broke down. It only took 15 minutes to fix, so no big deal. Three hours outside of Vientiane, it broke down again. After 40 minutes, we all unloaded our bags to switch to another bus. But the new bus turned out to be a minibus, which was not going to hold all of us plus all of our luggage. As all the other foreigners
and a few Laos piled on, I looked at what would be a miserable bus ride to Vientiane. A woman sitting next to me, on the grass in the shade of a concrete wall, said something in Lao that sounded remarkably like "that's going to be a miserable bus ride to Vientiane" and gestured that I should sit back down. "I agree," I said in English, and sat back down.

"Adventure" told me to do it, I wrote in my journal. If I were traveling with Shell, I would have been on that cramped minibus, on my way to Vientiane. Instead, I'm sitting in the shade of a brick wall, 120 km north of my destination with 10 others. It could be a good decision, it could be a bad decision. Time will tell. But time is something I have plenty of! A three-year-old girl just took off all her clothes, and her parents poured bottled water on her. Why does this make me think of Kayla??

It turned out to be a good decision. Within 30 more minutes, the bus was running again, and we were off, in comfort, to Vientiane. Still arrived almost 90 minutes late, but probably only 30 minutes behind that cramped minibus.

I went back to the first restaurant Shelly and I had eaten at in Vientiane for another dose of larb, that spicy Lao salad which I had found pleasantly spicy and Shelly had found obnoxiously so. I believe now that I found it pleasantly spicy because Shell and I were sharing the larb and a number of other dishes. After eating the larb by itself, without sharing it with anyone, it was a bit painful even for me.

May 27: Luang Prabang

Nothing like the adventure of Friday, our last day in Luang Prabang turned out to be nice and relaxing, just what my legs and feet required after a long hike through the jungle.

For $5 each, we took a half-day boat tour up the Mekong, stopping at the "Buddha Caves," where thousands of statues of Buddha are stashed in two different caves; the Lao whisky village, where I now wish I had bought that $3 bottle stuffed with a scorpion pickled with Lao whisky; and the Lao paper village, where Shelly bargained hard and came home with a bunch of handmade paper.

After a short nap for me, and some wandering around for Shelly, we met at 4:30 for massages, foot for me and head and hand for her, before climbing Mount Phousi again.

"It'll be romantic," she said. "We can watch the sunset from the top."

"My legs are tired," I grumbled.

"Come on. It's our last night in Laos together."

Griping the whole way, I once again climbed the 328 steps to the top of Mount Phousi, where I found Shelly -- and two dozen other foreigners -- waiting for the sun to drop behind the mountains.

"It's not really as romantic as I had hoped," Shell said. "But it is beautiful."

And it was.

Also of note: On our last day in Laos, I finally got the currency figured out. There are three currencies circulating freely in Laos: the Lao kip, the Thai baht and the U.S. dollar. The kip and dollar are easy: $1 = 10,000 kip. (My efforts to find an ATM machine that would show me my balance in millions of kip was, unfortunately, unsuccessful.) At 40 baht to the dollar, or 40 baht to 10,000 kip, the conversions weren't exactly hard, but they could be tricky, especially after a bottle or two of Beerlao. We've spending baht, primarily, because a) it was easy to get from the ATMs in Thailand, and b) I'll need the dollars that we have in Cambodia and Vietnam, where baht is less useful. (Apparently, I can use baht in western Cambodia, near the border, but not elsewhere.) It wouldn't be tricky at all, except that prices could be quoted in any of the currencies, and can be paid for in any of the three, or a combination of the three. I paid for dinner one night in baht, and received kip and dollars in change. Hmm.

Tomorrow, Shell flies back to Bangkok for her Monday flight, while I'll take the bus back to Vientiane.

May 26: Luang Prabang

Today was a bit more, erm, adventurous than either Shelly and I planned. In short: I got lost.

Only I wasn't actually lost. I knew where I was all the time. It's just that other people didn't.

We spent today on a short elephant safari about 15 km outside of Luang Prabang. The first clue that the day would be more interesting than planned was when Tiger Trail, which operates the Elephant Park Project, didn't pick us up at 8:30, or 8:45 or 9:00 or 9:15 or, really, until 9:45 when a tuk tuk showed up to take us to the park. Seems the company had run into a hard-to-please French family which had thrown them off schedule. If only they knew what was still to come...

Our tuk tuk driver didn't seem to know exactly where he was going -- he asked for directions at every intersection we encountered, practically, but that was better than getting lost -- but did eventually deposit us at the entrance to the elephant park. Waiting for us down a short flight of stairs was one of the smallest boats I've ever seen for a quick trip across the river. After climbing up a muddy slope, my real adventure began.

Shelly and our female tour guide were walking a few steps in front of me when I realized I had to pee. Not so badly, really, but it would be much more difficult to do it on top of an elephant, so I hollered that I would be right behind them. Mindful of the land mines still littering southeast Asia, I modestly waited until they were out of sight, then unzipped. This area was almost certainly mine-free, but you never know, and I really didn't want to find a forgotten mine with my foot.

Sixty seconds later, I was zipped up and following them up a hill. At the top of the hill, there were a couple of buildings set a hundred meters back from the trail, but no signs that I could see and certainly no elephants. So I took a left and kept going. And kept going. And kept going. And wondered why it was such a long trek to the elephant camp and, if there was a turn I should have made, why neither Shelly or the tour guide had waited for me.

I didn't have a watch (I had broken the crystal a couple days earlier, and didn't want it to get rained on again), so I didn't know exactly how long I had been walking. I finally came upon three young girls and asked them -- or tried to ask them -- if a foreigner was on the trail ahead of me. This question came out, roughly, as: Falang? followed by a round of gesturing up the trail, which earned me an eager English "Yes!" from the girls. I took that to mean there was a foreigner, presumably Shelly, ahead of me on the trail, so I kept going.

Eventually, the general uphill trail turned to a steeply downhill trail, and I decided I had either made a wrong turn or that, if I was going the right way, I really didn't want to ride an elephant that badly after all. Plus, I was running low on water, not having planned for a 60-minute hike through the Laotian sunshine. So, I turned around. If by some chance I should have kept going, I'd just wait for everyone back at the boat.

Ten minutes after turning around, I heard Shelly yelling for me. Gee, she had been looking for me for an hour and, by the way, how the hell had I gotten all the way out here? They had looked for at the river, in the jungle around the trail, at the river again, and were heading across the river to get mountain bikes to look for me on the trail. Frankly, I would have preferred to be rescued by elephant than by mountain bike, but you take what you get.

Yes, the buildings I had seen four minutes into my hike were actually my destination for the trip. The three girls did turn out to be helpful, confirming to the tour guide that, yes, they had seen a fat foreigner hiking up the trail. I saw a centipede the size of a cigar on my hike, and the elephant ride turned out to be quite a bit of fun. Not exactly what was advertised, but not a bad day, either!

***

We sampled one of the foods that Luang Prabang is famous for tonight: Grilled, dried river weed. It's better than it sounds, but not as good as those crickets we had in Vientiane.

May 25: Luang Prabang

Our first impression of Luang Prabang, when we arrived last night, was that there are a huge number of foreigners compared to Vientiane. It's certainly more of a tourist spot, and many folks who visit Laos fly directly to Luang Prabang, skipping Vientiane altogether. As much as we enjoyed Vientiane, I think that's a mistake.

We spent most of today avoiding rain and walking around town, familiarizing ourselves with the city. It's certainly more compact than Vientiane, which makes it an attractive place to walk. The main part of the city is set up between two different rivers and is really quite beautiful. There are still lots of old French colonial buildings, and plenty of temples to see. The highlight of the day was climbing the 328 steps to the top of Mount Phousi to see Wat Chom Si, the temple at the top of the mountain. The view of Luang Prabang is fantastic from up there, even if it did take me *huff* *gasp* a bit *puff* longer to climb than it took Shelly. Still, if Brad were along for the trip, he would have raced her to the top, I'm sure.

In addition to a few inquiries about tomorrow's activities, the afternoon was spent drying out after being caught in torrential rain coming down the 328 steps.

May 24: Travel Day, Vientiane to Luang Prabang

Observations on the 9-hour bus ride will come on the return leg.

May 23, Vientiane

Shelly and I are traveling our separate ways today, her pedaling around town on a rented bicycle, me gathering information about tomorrow's 9-hour bus ride to Luang Prabang, getting a visa for Cambodia and getting extra pages added to my passport at the U.S. Embassy (What a monstrosity ... in a city of elegant, crumbling French buildings and old temples, the U.S. Embassy is truly ugly, with big white walls surrounding the compound and few visible windows. However, everyone I interacted with was friendly and helpful, so that's something.)

However, the Embassy messed up my plans. From what I've read, at many U.S. embassies, you can get the extra pages added to your passport in 10 minutes or so. Not here. Despite my requests that it be done on the spot, I was told to come back at 2:00 this afternoon. This is only a big deal because I had hoped to head next to the Embassy of Cambodia to get my visa for next week. (I don't need to get a visa in advance, but the border crossing where I'll be entering is the busiest between Thailand and Cambodia, and long lines are the rule. Since I had some free time today, it seemed like a good thing to do. I may still do it this afternoon, depending on the weather.)

I have done my bus research, will pick up my passport from the Embassy this afternoon, and eventually meet Shelly for more Beerlao and dinner. Otherwise, it's a pretty relaxed day.

May 22, Vientiane

Today was definitely a Shelly-planned day: out the door by 8, back home after dark, not much down time in between. Still, it was a good -- but once again wet -- day.

We spent this morning in the Lao National Museum, which contained a bit of culture and a lot of politics. For me, this worked out fine. It's always interesting to see the other side's view of war. Exhibits included labels about "the Imperialist Americans and their puppets," there were photos of Laotian leaders meeting with Ho Chi Minh, Gorbachev, and Castro, and lots of examples of how the grand State has provided for the people through pharmaceutical research, electricity, etcetera, etcetera. Propaganda to be sure, in some cases, but still very interesting stuff to see.

The afternoon found us at the Houey Hong Vocational Training Center for Women about 20 km north of Vientiane, dyeing loosely-woven Laotian silk with all-natural dyes. This was surprisingly fun for me, and I know Shell enjoyed it. The center seems well-run, the women friendly and the dyes beautiful. This is something I never would have done if weren't here with Shell, but it was so far one of the highlights of the trip for me.

In the afternoon, we went to visit a traditional Lao sauna that Shelly had read about, located on the grounds of one of Vientiane's many temples (sorry...Shelly has the guide book today, and I'm losing track of where I've been). The sauna and massage beds were on the second story of a small, two-story, open-air building. With trees all around, it was almost like being in a huge tree house. After stripping down to sarongs, we entered the sauna. It is full of aromatic herbs, and is the hottest, steamiest, most fragrant sauna I have ever been in. Shelly lasted longer than I did, but neither of us made it much beyond 15 minutes. After a cup of herbal tea and a chat with the locals, it was off to the massage beds for a round of massage. Neither of our massages were great, but the atmosphere was fun -- and also something I wouldn't have done were I here on my own.

May 21, Vientiane, Laos

No photos to post yet. I may be able to do that along the way, or I may have to post them all upon my return.

The border crossing between Nong Khai and Vientiane was so easy. Preparations paid off, I think, as I knew how much to pay for a tuk tuk to the border post, and how much to pay for another tuk tuk from the border to Vientiane, about 20 km north. It only took 15 minutes to get our Lao visas at the border, and then another 20 or so to get through the immigration check point. It was very straightforward: Get stamped out of Thailand, ride a bus across the Thai-Lao Friendship Bridge (15 baht, 10 baht for the ride, 5 baht because it was Sunday), get in line, fill out a visa application, pay $31 ($30 visa fee, $1 more because it was Sunday), go through immigration and -- bam! -- you're in Laos. We found a guest house ($10 a night) and headed out on a walking tour of the city, including a climb to the top of Vientiane's own "Arc de Triomphe," allegedly made with concrete that had been intended for a new airport.

The people here are so laid back, it's easy to get around, and on Sunday, not much is happening, anyway. The roads around the Arc de Triomphe -- called the Victory Monument, or Patouxay) have four or five lanes in each direction, seemingly typical of communist regimes around the world, building grand avenues for cities that have minimal traffic.

Coming down from the monument, we headed to the morning market, where we took shelter from the rain. When it became apparent it wasn't going to stop, we went back to the room to take a nap while waiting for it to dry out outside.

The afternoon found us at Vat Sisaket, with more than 2,000 images of Buddha. Shelly pointed out that they were all in various degrees of gold leafing, which made us think of the Roadblock on the next-to-last episode of the Amazing Race. We then wandered over to the Mekong and walked along the river until we found a bar and restaurant. I had read that Beerlao is particularly tasty, and it was. And at 8,000 kip -- about 80 U.S. cents -- for 640 ml, it's cheap, too. The rain just kept coming, so ended up having dinner there, too, all of which was very spicy. Perfectly so for me, too much so for Shell. After three big bottles of beer, we were bushed, and were asleep by 8 p.m.

We're so old and married....

May 20, Bangkok to Nong Khai

Hello from Vientiane, capital of the Lao People's Democratic Republic. In most cases I'd say that I've never been to a sleepier capital city, but I have been to Palau and the Federated State of Micronesia, so that wouldn't be exactly true, would it?

Though we are already in Laos, I'm going to split up my posts so that they're easier to follow.

Shelly and I have had a smooth trip so far, with nothing but a little rain slowing us down. We used a couple of soon-to-expire upgrade certificates for our flight here, which turned out to be a great thing, as rather than being bumped from coach to business, our flight was upgagued to a three-class 747, and we were bumped to first class seats (albeit with business class service). Not a bad way to start a vacation.

The day started on a bad note, as we had to deliver Mister Tanaka to the vet again before our flight. He has yet another infection and a not-unexpected complication from his surgery, and we didn't feel like we should ask any of our friends or neighbors to take care of a sick cat. I hate that he has to live at the vet for 10 days, but there wasn't much in the way of alternatives.

It was raining when we landed in Bangkok, but it had stopped by the time we reached the main train station. Bangkok seems much more put together than Manila, and our trip downtown was smooth. The driver and I established that we are both fat, and that I have a few kilos more than him, but that was about the extent of our conversation.

We bought our train tickets, stowed our bags at the left luggage facility (really, just a corner of Hualamphong Station) and headed out for a few hours of sight-seeing, including a stop at Jim Thompson's House, the former home of the Delaware-born founder of the Thai Silk Company, who disappeared in 1967 while on vacation in Malaysia. The house was beautiful, the tour was interesting, and Bangkok's public transportation system made it easy to visit. After a visit to Starbucks (won't be any of those where we're going!) and dinner at a very casual local restaurant, we headed for the train station and boarded out 8:45 pm train for Nong Khai, on the Thai-Laos border. Departing exactly on time, we were soon zipping through Bangkok's northern outskirts. The conductor came by and made up our bunks, and earlier than either of us expected, we were out for the night. Before we knew it, it was daylight, and we were approaching Nong Khai, the end of the line.

Yamanashi Revisited

Imagine my surprise when the next-to-last leg of The Amazing Race 9 turned up in Yamanashi, the prefecture I lived in when I was in Japan.

Many years ago, Shelly and I watched a fireworks show over Lake Yamanaka. A couple years after that, as we were driving home from a conference, my friends Jill and Ken and I rode the Fujiyama roller coaster. At the time, at least, it had the steepest drop of any roller coaster in the world, or some such distinction.

And, better yet, it was an exciting final episode.

DaVinci Code, Denied

We tried to see The DaVinci Code today, but didn't make it to the theater in time to get tickets for the 4:30 show. Shelly has a conference call tonight, so we couldn't buy tickets for any of the later shows, though it's showing on seven different screens within 10 minutes of our house.

The movie is under intense scrutiny in this majority Catholic country. A nearby church has hung a huge banner at the entrance to the neighborhood "denouncing" the film and urging believers to boycott it. Legislators threatened to ban the film. And it wasn't until Tuesday or Wednesday this week that the Motion Picture and Television Rating and Classification Board (MTRCB) even allowed it into the country. (They ended up slapping an R-18 rating on DaVinci, the most restrictive rating available and one much more restrictive than the PG-13 the MPAA gave it in the U.S.)

I'm hoping it will still be showing somewhere in Manila once I get home from backpacking. If not, there will always be illegal DVDs. (Kidding....)

The Rainy Season Is Here

The rainy season blew in over the weekend with Typhoon Chanchu killing 37 people across the country. In Manila, we received a bunch of rain and some minor winds, but nothing like the typhoons I've been through on Guam. In addition to an almost instant "greening" of the landscape, the onset of the rainy season means cloudier -- and therefore cooler -- days.

Chanchu then headed west to Vietnam and, if you believe this graphic from Ho Chi Minh City's Thanh Nien news service, is expected to soon make a sharp right-hand turn towards Hong Kong.

Feline Update

Mister Tanaka is running and jumping and hanging out in the garden again, which is good.

He's also leaking a bit, which is not so good.

After six weeks at the vet, the cat is back home again, chasing birds, eating geckos and generally enjoying life. His blood work is improving in some areas and stablizing in others, mostly in the "generally healthy" range. For that, we're obvioulsy very happy. But we're now facing a bit of an embarrassing problem, one that we hope will eventually correct itself.

Mister Tanaka's surgery has rendered him, occasionally, incontinent. He's outside in the garden most of the day, which minimizes his leaking in the house. We don't have carpet, and we've covered all the furniture with plastic and towels, so the problem isn't as bad as it could be, but neither of us really want to spend the next six or seven years living with a leaky cat, either.

Any suggestions where I can find a line of cat diapers?

Backpacking Test Post

Shelly and I are heading to Laos this weekend for 10 days of well-deserved vacation for Shelly. I'll be using our trip to Laos as a warm-up for a two-and-a-half week backpacking trip through Cambodia. I'm e-mailing this post to Blogspot to see how it works, in case I run into difficulty getting on Blogspot while on the road.

More on our trip is coming soon...

A Public Apology in Singapore

One of the best things (for me) about all the trips that Shelly takes is getting to read English-language newspapers from around the region. In the Straits Times she brought me from Singapore, I found the following apology from a local magazine publisher, taken out as a paid advertisement:

1. We, the undersigned, published and/or caused to be published and/or printed in the 2006 Issue 1 of The New Democrat, allegations which meant or were understood to mean that the Minister Mentor, Mr Lee Kuan Yew, is dishonest and unfit for office because:

(a) Mr Lee devised a corrupt political system for the benefit of the political elite;

...

(c) Mr Lee is guilty of corruption, nepotism, criminal conduct, dishonesty, had advanced the interests of his family at the expense of the needs of Singapore, has misled Parliament and had covered his tracks to avoid criticism; and

(d) Mr Lee has managed the Government of Singapore Investment Corporation in a corrupt manner.

2. We admit and acknowledge that we have no basis for making the allegations, and that they are false and untrue.

3. We, the undersigned, do hereby unreservedly withdraw these allegations and apologise to Mr Lee for the distress and embarassment caused to him by our false and baseless allegations.

4. We hereby also undertake not to make any further allegations or statements to the same or similar effect. We have agreed to pay Mr Lee damages by way of compensation and to indemnify him for all the costs and expenses incurred by him in connection with this matter.

Now, I have no idea what The New Democrat did or did not allege, so I'm making no judgment on whether Mr Lee is corrupt or not. And that's not my point.

I'm from a country where free speech is, um, cherished more than it is in Singapore. Were this kind of public apology required every time it was alleged in print that an American official was corrupt, the size of the resulting newspapers would be so large that it would break the backs of the paper boys.

Not that I'm suggesting that anything unethical happens in Washington. Of course, it might look that way from time to time, but that's probably just the fault of muckraking newspaper publishers.

Filipino Disciplined for Eating With Spoon and Fork

A teacher in Montreal has repeatedly disciplined a Filipino immigrant's son for eating with a spoon and fork, according to a recent story in the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

According to reports of the Montreal newspaper The Chronicle ... the teacher, who watched over the boy's second-grade class during lunch break at the Ecole Lalande in Roxboro, reprimanded the [boy] for not eating "the Canadian way," using only one utensil.

The reports also said the school principal himself had agreed with the teachers's handling of the boy's "table behavior."

When the child's mother phoned the school to complain, the principal justified the action because "your son eats like a pig," the reports said.

The mother and other parties outraged by the incident said the child's way of eating -- filling a spoon by pushing the food on his plate with a fork -- was "the traditional Filipino way," an expression of his native culture that was supposedly welcome in a free society.

According to the story, the teacher punished the boy "more than 10 times this year" by ordering him to eat at a table by himself, and called eating with a spoon and fork "yucky and disgusting."

The school principal, Normand Bergeron, then said to the mother: "Madame, you are in Canada. Here in Canada, you should eat the way Canadians eat. If you son eats like a pig, he has to go to another table because this is the way we do it and how we're going to do it every time."

You know, there are just so many things wrong with this, I can't even figure out where to begin...

Carabao Painting

Early on in my stay in the Philippines, I watched a sea lion paint a picture.

Recently, it seems that we somehow missed a carabao painting contest in Vigan. But this was something different:

As part of the Viva Vigan Festival of the Arts, local painters used carabao as their canvas, first applying a primer coat of water soluble white paint, and then painting a variety of scenes on top of that. Farmers feed the carabaos corn and hold them to distract their attention from the painters and to stop them from licking the paint, said a story in the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

Carabaos, unlike horses, do not have sweat glands, the paper said, which is why painting them is possible.

Oooh, I Gotta Go!

I was wandering through the grocery store last weekend and came across these highly appropriate brand names.

Beat the hell out of Huggies, don't they?

It's the Chicken McDo

...and, if this advertisement is at all accurate, the chicken this leg came from must have had the longest leg bone in history.

From the size of the meaty portion of the chicken leg -- I'm sure Shelly would tell me there is a better term than "meaty portion" -- this guy can't be holding the leg with more than his thumb and index finger, can he?

Down at the lower left corner, there's a big "24." That's followed by the McDonald's delivery number, with delivery available 24 hours a day in Metro Manila. Twenty minutes or so later, a 20-something man will roll up to your house on a red and yellow motorbike to deliver your Egg McMuffin or Hot Apple Pie.

Visiting McDonald's outlets around the world is interesting, as there's almost always something different than you'll find at home. In the Philippines, it's fried chicken and McSpaghetti, complete with bits of hot dog in the sauce. In Japan, I enjoyed the egg and bacon burger (though it must have been hell on my arteries). McDonald's opened in New Delhi two weeks after I left India, or I could have tried the Maharajah Mac, a Big Mac made with ... mutton.

Actually, McDonald's on Maryland's Eastern Shore has an occasional seasonal offering, including the McCrabcake sandwich. Maybe it's not actually called the "McCrabcake," but regardless of its name, it is by far the worst crab cake I've ever had.

And, for some reason, I was surprised by that.

Shelly Joins ECW

This is an old photo -- it was taken in March -- from when Shelly joined Holy Trinity's newly rejuvenated Episcopal Church Women (ECW) group. Father Tyler is on the left side, while other inductees are on the right.

Home Again

After a brief visit home last week, followed by a quick return to the vet and another 10 days in cat jail, Mister Tanaka is home again, most likely for good.

This isn't necessarily because he is healthy, but because we've put him through enough and, quite frankly, it's probably time to let him go, if that's what has to happen.

Shelly, who, on her return from Singapore was quite unhappy that Tanaka was not yet home, liberated him Friday morning. His Elizabethan collar is off so he's gotten himself cleaned up pretty well, and he's no longer bumping into everything he walks past. He was fairly active over the weekend, his Saturday bloodwork looks pretty good (his most recent infection seems to be gone) and he generally seems to be doing well, but...

He has decided that he no longer wants to drink much water. Or eat. He's been on a special "kidney support" diet which he apparently ate without problem at the vet, but refuses to eat at home. Dr. Carlos told us to go ahead and feed him whatever he would eat -- it might cause decreased kidney function, but at least he won't die of malnutrition. We're feeding him wet food today, and he's been eating hungrily, and getting some water from the food, too.

In the meantime, he's taking medicine for his liver (glucometamine, glucodiamine and nicotinamide ascorbate), for his anemia (strawberry flavored ferrous gluconate) and for his recent infection (passion fruit flavored amoxicillin). He hates them all, and tends to spit them out as quickly as Shelly can force them into his mouth. Since I'm the one holding him, I'm frequently stinking of passion fruit flavored antibiotics.

All things considered, he's doing well, but we're not expecting much in the way of a long term recovery.