Before I get rolling, let it be known that while the Bunyip entry is currently being revised, this entry has nothing at all to do with lake monsters, and all to do with this crazy place named Thailand. All right. Duly warned.

I expect that I've thoroughly confused some of you to be here and not in South Africa as the website shows. I shall make the official announcement now that I plan to expand the Lake Monster them also to the phenomenon of yeti, also known as the abominable snowman. This will take me to India and most likely Nepal. Doing this takes time for visas to process, so I'm attending my scuba course now in Thailand while I wait for them to go through. That's the skinny.

Hence, today was another sensory assault courtesies of the urban metropolis of Bangkok, Thailand. It's a place whose smell can be described by three linearly independent variables: corriander, vehicle fumes, sewage, and more corriander. Takes some getting used to.

This is the third "City of Angels" I have visited on this Watson year - the previous two being LA, California and LA, Chile, although I've yet to see any angels of any definition. At the end of a long day of exploration, I have returned to my dorm bed to happily turn in early for an early tomorrow. I'm quite proud to say that I found a bed for a third the price of what I paid the first day. However, it seems an 80 baht bed is essentially a few blocks of wood and an inch thick matt of some sort of hay or bamboo. I actually kind of like it - for those I've told many a time I sometimes prefer the floor, here's proof that I mean it. Nothing beats a hard bed. Well, maybe not this hard.

I managed to arrange a sleeper train down to Phuket where I will commence the scuba courses. Afterwards, I had a whole day to spend, so a few hours went trying to get my beaings on streets that I cannot pronounce and sometimes cannot even read. Finally I had enough courage to walk outside my own Khao San district and into chaos further thither. I would have left bread crumbs but the pigeons would have eaten them.

So onward I marched to the temples, where I found that too much of the day had passed to give them their due, so I proceeded towards Chinatown. I expected that a Chinatown in Bangkok might have a little more... well, bang, to it than most American towns and that turned out to be right. I walked through several blocks of electronics and speaker peddlers - with enough inventory to stck the demand of Ohio - and then stood there across the street eyeing up what looked like a narrow tunnel into a dark cave of teeming humanity. I was on the threshold. Putting my camera away and tightening the straps on the backpack, I crossed the tuk-tuk traffic and burrowed into the throng. The end result: I have been in mosh pits less intense.

At the end of it, I can't say that I had bought anything, but I was quite content just to watch what it was all like - essentially a series of foreign-looking foods, Christmas toys for kids, wheelbarrow pushers, and Chinese and Japanese candies. The education was worthwhile; I figure once I've seen a food four times it's time to buy. That's assuming I can recognize something the fourth time I see it.

As the tunnel opened out into the street again, I saw a street vendor with some food and I decided that the curious piece of meat on the grill was just too interesting to let by. I'd never seen anything like it. Hoping that the vendor knew some english, I asked what it was.

"Squid."

With a few seconds of hesitation, I asked how much it was and finally said I'd take the smaller one, prefering the skishkabob version to the whole kit n kaboodles variant. You know how it is, not really looking forward to eating squid kaboodles.

20 bahts later I was there with a plastic bag of squid with sweet and sour sauce and you know, it wasn't half bad. Bit chewy, but good. (This might remind some of my college buddies of the "Coctab" incident of recent lore - haven't seen any baby octopi yet.)

I wish I could describe everything that happens to you out in the streets here, but it is simply an overflow of newness. You're shocked one second at some small thing and then the next minute another surprise happens, erasing the memory of the previous one. Here's one example: walking down Khao San Road I was seen by a marketer for a nearby restaurant who declared only two words: "Italian dressing" - apparently with the hope that I would be so entranced by these words that I would grab a pamphlet and then decide to eat at her restaurant.

So there you have it, instead I am left with only a few standout memories, but I must say that Thailand is just an intense place, a crossroads of global influences that would take years to unpack.

Oh, one more side fact - you can live here in the city for about five bucks a day. One hour of minimum wage can house you and feed you here. One day of minimum wage gets you a week in Thailand.

Day Three, Conozco Mi Barrio, Baby

And on the third day it came to pass, many a temple and museum crawl, after fueling up with some creme-filled Dunkin Donuts. In Thailand?! you ask. Yes, and surprisingly faithful too. Ken wrote about the home-bestowing feeling of McDonalds. Well I suppose for me it's a Dunkin Donuts shop. Throw in some quality NYC bagels and I'll be more at home than... home.

A popular shirt out here says "Same Same" on the front and "But Different" on the back. I guess that's safe enough to be right. At some point when I was drinking Coke out of a plastic bag (that's how they give it to you here) I realized that Thailand is a peculiar variant on the whole transition from traditional to modern. Here we have a nation that used to be the cross roads for Chinese and Middle Eastern and then European empires, and then somehow smoothly moved on to be a relatively well-off stopover for now global economic trade. Few nations have been so fortunate. Not that there aren't problems here, there are, but certainly Thailand has come out rather strong.

One fallback is certainly the predominance of con-artists and comission-seekers everywhere who will give you any number of lies in order to get what they want. This isn't a daily problem, it's an hourly problem! No number of "Sorry, not interested." quips will stop them, so it's gotten to the point where I just lie right back at them and say, "Sorry, got a date at the brothel." This usually shuts them up.

But bargaining is something different. I figured I would be terrible at this, but it seems like second nature now. After a very cheery bargaining session with my tuk-tuk driver for a ride to the train station, I said "Nice shoes." (whcih were a pair of Converse's just like my dad's) at which point he tried to sell them to me. He insisted I try them on but they were a size too big.

Fortunately, I found a rip off shop in the train station that sold a fake version for about 5 bucks US. On top of it all, this imitator brand is called Jack Master and has a slit on the front that looks like I can fire laser beams. Soon as I figure out how, I'll be really impressed.

Walking around the train station, I was warned: "Beware. Under Innovation." This is, so far, the best quote I've read in Asia. I figure I might put it on front page of the website.

Before long I was aboard the sleeper train. For a few fleeting moments I had a chance to hang my head on my arms, rest them on the window frame and look out to Bangkok as it is lived on the periphery. What a sight this was. Almost everyone was happily dining in little three walled houses, with all sorts of decorations to whatever walls were there - taking great care to upkeep a special house for the Buddha nearby.

A little after the town, a man stood by the rails, motionaless as a stone statue, holding his thumb out.

Perhaps one of the best traditions around the world that a traveler sees no matter where they happen to be is the Sendoff, where a relative or friend joins the bus or train that I'm on. Lots of smiles, kisses, kids, waves, and just general goodwill. I know it's not meant for me, but it is good to see it nonetheless, so much the same all over the world.

On the bus ride between Surat Thani and Phuket, I sat between three robed buddhist monks while the speakers overhead played a female Thai cover of Blur's Boys and Girls ("...boys who do girls who do girls who like boys who do boys..." Strange world.

I've checked in now to a barebones hostel in Phuket (yes, I know, but it's pronounced Pookit) into a room where someone's scribbled onto the door, "Because I'm the Captain and I don't care." Inside is a sticker in French that appears to be a Save the Wolves of Switzerland campaign. And on the wall beside me is written "Love is a multiple personality egocentric killer." Or "filler." I can't tell. Anycase, I write these tidbits for future reference, since I can remember all the rest. And I also do so because these quotes do sorta fit the place; they convey what a swashbuckling paradox this former piratey town has become. I've assumed the bandana, ready to take it all in. Y'arrrr.

In all seriousness, this area used to be a common hideaway for pirates of all sorts - since the area has lots of jutting islands with ample nooks and crannies for hiding, and also used to be a huge trading nexus for Portugeuse, Dutch, Arabs, Indians, and Chinese. Sounds promising!

Tomorrow, at last, I'll cross over to the islands for my diving course. Thanks for beaing with my journaling orthodoxy of unorthodoxy. Hope you're enjoying. Must be something in the curry.

P.S. I think it's worth noting that no matter what our troubles or political causes right now, we should give what small parts we can to aid groups that are helping Bam, Iran. The recent earthquake there killed more people than SARS, Mad Cow, September 11, Iraq, Afghanistan, and the last 30 yeras of conflict in Israel combined. All in 16 seconds.

It's the gift of a new year for us to still be here. Peace be with everyone for the new year ahead!