Back to the Beach (Sort of)

The train/taxi/car ride down to Pattay Beach went pretty much as planned. We stayed in a hotel belonging to John's friend for two nights, had a lot of good food and good wine and generally had a great time. The only disappointment was the beach itself. I had heard how crowded the area has become, but there is nothing quite so convincing as seeing it with one's own eyes.

The youngest guy on the left, with Frank in the middle and John on the right.

More Thai beer and Cambodian wine.

Frank insisted we try these fried banana desserts.

The banana slices were wrapped in this very thin bread. Though popular here, this bread is actually from India.

Busy "Walking Street" in South Pattaya. This is the slow season.

These rows and rows of chairs and umbrellas go on for literally miles and miles. I can't imagine the busy season.

From Pattaya back up through Bangkok to Chiang Mai. And the ride will begin.

A Social Evening

No pictures today, even though this may have been the best day of the trip so far. I met a longtime friend (retired State Dept) at his apartment for drinks, followed by dinner with several of his other friends.

The last time I saw John was in Virginia on my Wing-across-the-country ride a couple years ago, when he was recovering from some minor surgery. Today he was his old self, and it was my most enjoyable evening in a very long time.

John’s condo is in a very remote area of Bangkok, but his directions to get there were perfect, and I was able to guide the taxi driver right to his door. A pleasant change from a couple days ago. I expected to get lost, so I got there a bit early, but John was very gracious about it. He is going back to Virginia in a few days and was having a sort of farewell dinner for several of his friends, all Thai, from his days as director of the Thailand USIA post. He invited me over early so we could catch up a bit before the others arrived.

Soon the friends arrived, and after a couple more drinks we all went to a very nice restaurant (Thai, of course) about 20 minutes away. My girls already know what it is like to be feted by John, but this was even better. The restaurant has a klong (canal) running through it, and it reminded me of a very large version of the Tahitian Lanai in Waikiki, where Donna & Julian celebrated their wedding. This place is about 20 times larger, however, and we were taken to our thatched hut area in a boat. The klong was filled with very large and very active fish, though I guess they were there for the entertainment and not menu items. The food was both awesome and inexpensive, the menu prices being about half what they are in a typical Thai restaurant in the U.S.

Throughout the course of the evening, there was beer from Laos and wine from Cambodia. In more quantities than probably necessary. With an apologetic nod toward SMG, there was no Benedictine & Brandy, one of my favorites back in the old days. There were seven Thais in our party, all past or present US Embassy employees, and two Americans. The language of the evening was of course Thai, and I never felt left out. As I noted when writing about my trip 3 years ago, I continue to be amazed at how much of my language skill is still there and seems to pop up from nowhere when needed.

Getting back into the boat after generous quantities of wine was for some a bit comical, but we all made it back to the other side, and they dropped me off for the taxi/train ride back to my hotel.

Tomorrow, Frank and I join John on a trip down to Pattaya Beach, where Saisamorn and I spent a mini-honeymoon weekend back in its infancy as a resort.

There could be actual photos taken there.

Fried Noodles & Baked Tourist

The second attempt to meet up with Frank, my old boss in Laos and Thailand, was successful. We met near his house for a plate of mi krob (fried noodles) and a delicious coconut milk dessert. Frank has a million stories and enjoys telling them all. I'm still working on him to write a book together. But as much as he loves telling his stories, he thinks nobody would be interested in a book. I'll keep on him when we meet up in Vientiane in a couple weeks.

I finally got a reasonable night's sleep, so after breakfast this morning I wandered down to the old stomping grounds in Bangkok, where I set up another office and lived for about 9 months before leaving for Hawaii. The walk from the Skytrain station was not so far but it was like running an obstacle course, with many food vendors set up on the narrow sidewalk. It really reminded me why I don't really like big cities, no matter what country they're in.



The Skytrain. That's not graffitti on the side, but a single ad covering the entire train. It keeps the fares low.



The narrow sidewalk on Convent Road near the old office.



Convent Road

Back in '73 I found a new building in which to open our Bangkok office. That building is now gone and replaced by the Evergreen Laurel luxury hotel, owned by Eva Airlines, whose pilots I train in California. It's a small world.



Old office on N. Sathorn Rd. I think the guy in the picture was my replacement for my "one-year sabbatical" to finish my college degree. I bought the Pontiac Tempest in the garage as a sort of company limousine. It was way too big for Bangkok traffic, but very comfy. The office was on the second floor and we lived on the third floor, with a great view of the canal just on the other side of the road.





The huge hotel that replaced the old office. I went inside to see if any of my old students were here on crew rest. No luck. But in the lobby was this girl with a beautiful smile playing the Chinese Dulcimer for those having the lunch buffet. I had to take her picture.



The temperature today is 95. I've grown very accustomed to the 50s and 60s weather we've been having at home, so I'm sweltering here. I'm eager to get up North and into the mountains where it's about 75 every day now. It may be time to find a movie to watch in a cool theater.

I'm "borrowing" wifi from the Nissan service station across the street, and picture uploads are next to impossible. I've also lost a couple of editing sessions. I'll add more pictures and text when I have a good connection, which may not happen until I get up to Chiang Mai.


This morning the wifi is working pretty good, so I'll add a bit before moving hotels. Yesterday afternoon I went to the movie theater to cool off, but was about 20 minutes late for the movie I wanted to see, so they wouldn't let me in. Just as well, as I came back and went for a swim, a much better activity after so much walking. After a late dinner I got out the camera and took a couple of night pictures.



The hotel pool at night.

And finally, after many attempts and having to hold the camera on the bridge rail, I got a photo we've all seen many times. I just wanted to do it myself.

One Night in Bangkok - not by Murray Head.

Round 2 - The Pretirement

A year ago I rode down to Thai Town in Hollywood to celebrate the Thai New Year. This year I decided to do it a bit bigger, and go to Thai Country far from Hollywood. So, after nearly three years, I once again sit in Bangkok for a few days before heading up north to explore the mountains by motorcycle, and to explore retirement options for when that opportunity arises.

The plane ride over was supposed to be shorter than last time, but due to a delayed connection in Tokyo, the trip from my driveway to my hotel was only an hour shorter at 29 hours. Too much travel time, which makes me long for the "perfect speed" enjoyed by Jonathan Livingston Seagull.

After making contact with a couple of friends, I took a jet lag nap and then went across the street to a huge shopping center to see about activating my cell phone for use in Thailand and Laos. I had to spend $2 for another sim card, but now my phone has a new number. Prepaid time is only 10 cents a minute, not a bad bargain.

On my first day here in '05, I discovered the coffee float at McDonald's. On my first day here this time I discovered an awsome jelly donut at the Dunkin' Donuts in the mammoth mall. It had two separate compartments for two separate shots of jelly, one guava and one lychee. Hands down the best jelly donut I've ever had. And the coffee is good Thai coffee, much better than the popular New England DD variety. You can bet I'll be back.

The evening plan was to go to my old boss's house in another part of town. He gave me complex directions over the phone, involving a train ride, a bus ride, a labyrinthian trek, and finally a motorcycle taxi. I got as far as the motorcycle taxi stand without a problem, but the taxi drivers (riders) were asking so much money to continue that I knew there was a flaw in my directions. I tried to continue on foot but failed to find his house. I found the restaurant where we planned to eat quite easily, though, and waited for him and his wife there for about an hour, hoping they had figured out I had gotten lost and went to Plan B. I finally gave up and came back to my hotel. Three hours gone. When I failed to show up he had actually considered making the short walk to the restaurant, but then couldn't find his wallet. A comedy of errors perpetrated by a couple of aging ol' coots. We'll try again this evening, though we'll probably meet at the restaurant. He and I will probably meet up again in Laos in a couple weeks.

A donut, a phone, and negotiating a maze of traffic in a huge over-crowded city is not much of an accomplishment. Certainly nothing to write home about. But my only real goal for the day was to not work.

Mission accomplished.

Two Cool

A great find this week.



And my new favorite tee-shirt.

What Happens in Vegas...

OK, I'll confess. It happened in Vegas, so it doesn't count. I picked up a gal wandering around the airport and took her home with me. One never gets too old for a little adventure.

I'd been in New England for a week. A fantastic week, well documented and illustrated on other blogs. There were fantastic and warm family moments. There were also many cold moments, but that was due to the weather in Brrrrrrlington, including a little snow and frozen plumbing. There was lots of eating and a little sleuthing. There was Gucci, Prada, and Pucci. Er, make that poochie. There was a raging mountain lion ready to pounce. Er, make that an irritated kitty who only wanted to rid her house of evil canine spirits. A fantastic week.

But it had to end. I was travelling stand-by and verified with the airline that there were seats available for my trip home. Lots of seats to Vegas and 7 from there to Bakersfield. So I departed with tearful goodbyes and lots of confidence that it would be a smooth ride home.

But a cargo door in Phoenix wouldn't open, and many passengers missed their connection to Fresno. So they were re-routed through Las Vegas, over-booking the flights to both Fresno and Bakersfield. The next flight was 24 hours later and it was already booked. Walking home was not an option so I decided to rent a car and drive home. On the way to pick it up, I ran into another victim of the cargo door malfunction. She said she was going back to the hotel and I told her I was renting a car and heading home. She asked if she could share the ride with me and I told her I'd be delighted and it was her job to keep me awake. And she did a terrific job.

Her daughter is a flight attendant for the airline and she is an elementary school teacher in Southeast Bakersfield. Teachers can talk and talk and talk. And she did and did and did. For the whole 4 hours. We pulled into Bakersfield about 5:30, safe and sound, about 12 hours after my plane took off from Boston. I dropped her off at her car at the airport and I was home and asleep by 6.

Without my teacher companion to keep me awake, I probably would have tried to find a motel to get some rest.

But sometimes, just sometimes... what happens in Vegas just can't stay in Vegas.

Maximum Pooch

When I got back from vacation and bailed Max out of jail, he was looking pretty ratty. Needless to say, they didn't give him his daily brushing. So I rushed him to the groomer and got him looking like his dapper self. (Sorry, Donna, still not brave enough.)



After this evening's walk, sitting in Grandma's chair.

Me and my Shadow

After ten years together, I parted company with an old friend today. We were together in Hawaii and were very close during my early days in California. We grew apart as my interests changed, though I never really wanted to say goodbye. Lifestyle changes, however, made our parting inevitable. We spent about three years working on a personality change, but by the time it happened, it was too late to save the relationship. I already had new friends.

And in the short-lived custom chopper look.

Me and my Shadow, rolling down the avenue.....
no more.

Sawasdee Pi Mai

A couple of years ago I had planned to make my first return to Thailand during the celebration of the Songkran Festival in April, when my friend John would still be there. Bad weather in Bakersfield made that impossible and delayed my trip until July. I had hopes of returning again this past winter, also when my friend would still be there. Bad management made that trip impossible and turned it into a quick trip to Hawaii.

So Sunday I did the next best thing and rode down to Thai Town for an early New Year's Festival. The Buddhist New Year 2550 actually starts on April 13, but in Los Angeles they got an early start. The main street was blocked off for about a half mile and filled with vendors and food booths (yum). The Singha Beer Garden off one street was crowded all day, though I had to pass it up as I never drink and ride. Thai boxing was on center stage all day, and was a big hit, no pun intended.


In December the King will turn 80. This photo of him in an ice sculpture was just outside the beer garden.

A popular type of folk dancing, Ramwong.

The best part, though, was that there were smiling people everywhere, all speaking Thai and enjoying the festivities. There was very little of the traditional water-throwing that goes on during this celebration in Thailand, but the atmosphere was fun anyway.

At the end of the afternoon, with tired legs and feet, I sat down and waited for the finale: a group of students who came from Thailand just to demonstrate cultural dancing at this festival. They did a great job and capped the day nicely before I headed back over the mountains.




For years, my family had to look at a large velvet painting of a Thai dancer I bought in the Philippines. Here's the real thing.



This day the ride was not remarkable, but the destination was. Happy New Year!

Interesting Discovery

Yesterday my search for a different lifestyle took me to Ventura, on the coast southwest of here. The weather was clear and sunny, though still a quite cool February afternoon. So once again I layered up and hopped on the Godlwing for an afternoon trip over the mountains.

When I left the 5 and turned west on the 126, a couple of CHP cars were sitting in the intersection blocking eastbound turns. I didn't think much about it as I was entering greater LA, where anything can happen. All of the eastboud lanes of 126 were closed, including all but one of the westbound.

Finally, it occurred to me that the Tour of California is in progress and could be the reason so much of the road is closed. I watched a little of it on OLN-TV this week, but only enough to know who was leading.

Traffic in the only open lane was moving quite slowly and I was passed several times by the same van marked "Marshall" driving down a center lane and stopping to pick up any debris that was still on the road. Soon I was also passed by a car with an "Amgen" sign on the side, and I was sure I was about to encounter the "Tour."

The Tour of Caleefornia is no Tour Day France. The number of people per mile who had found a spot along the road from which to watch the race could be counted on both hands. I considered stopping myself to become a spectator, but traffic was moving so slowly that stopping would've improved my view only slightly.

After about 10 more miles, and literally dozens of police cars and motorcycles (who pays for all that traffic control?), a convertible loaded up with cameras passed me eastbound, so I knew the cyclists weren't far behind. Another mile, just east of Piru, and the lead group of about a dozen riders appeared. Perhaps a couple of minutes behind them was the main peloton, with all the Discovery guys tightly grouped around Levi, who was still wearing the jersey on this Day 6. Behind the peloton were grouped most of the support vehicles, with a sole rider, perhaps a domestique, weaving his way through them. Then, right where the route made a right turn to join 126 to Santa Clarita, the stragglers went by. There were only 2 or 3, followed by a couple of tail-end support cars and motorcycles. All of the riders were fast, really fast.

And it was over. Just a couple of minutes. That's all of the race that anybody saw along the route. The line of cars blocked from continuing east on 126 was nearly a mile long. Most of the drivers had no idea why they were stuck there, and were probably fuming.

Last year I considered riding down to this area just to watch the race. I had picked a spot in the Santa Barbara area, where today's stage started out. I decided not to, thinking it would probably be crowded and I may not even be able to get near it. A ride wasted. Now I'm sure that wouldn't have been true. The crowd that was blocked on the highway was much much larger than the crowd interested in seeing the race, the Discovery team, or Levi.

I left Ventura later than I had planned, and rode home most of the way in the dark. The temperature dropped to the mid 30s at the top of the mountains, the same as my ride home from LAX in December. It seemed so much colder in the dark. I had hoped to catch the OLN-TV coverage of the race when I got home, but I was too late.

Truth be told, a bicycle race is much more interesting on TV unless you've got family in the contest. But if I'm still in Caleefornia this time next year, I'll probably make an effort to see a couple moments of the third tour.

It zoomed by in only a couple of minutes, but in a year with very little "to write home about," it was a good couple of minutes.

Plan? What plan? We don't need no steenking plan!

Another last minute call. My friend Rob, who's younger than me but retired from the fire department, has forgotten that some of us have to work for a living. "Can you get tomorrow off?", he asked. "We're putting together a ride to Bass Lake and Yosemite, leaving at 9:30 tomorrow morning." I immediately remembered my friend Dr. Bob in Hawaii who would often call and say, "Let's go flying. I'll meet you at the airport in 20 minutes." So I'm used to last-minute calls, and actually like them. Rob continued, "We're going to stay at a cabin at the lake, spend all day Saturday in the park, then ride home on Sunday."

Bass Lake is one of my favorite spots anywhere. I did the Grizzly Century bicycle ride around that lake my first year here. "Sounds great, Rob, but I've got two cross-country flights scheduled for tomorrow. I doubt if I can even leave early. Can I meet you at the lake tomorrow night?"

And so another great ride started. I tried to hurry the cross-country flights a bit, skipping the usual great lunch at Livermore. One of the trainees had coincidentally planned his route over the foothills of the Sierras and near Bass Lake, so I got a bit of a preview. You can't save all that much time by skipping lunch, so it was still after 3 when I left work. I hurried home, packed up the dog to put him in jail for the weekend, and drove away from the SPCA a little after 4. By 5 I was packed up and on the road up to Bass Lake for a great weekend.

When I got up there the group had just ordered their dinner at a Mexican restaurant. My bike was the 7th, 4 riders from the DA's office, and 4 from the CAP. One guy was both, the link between the two groups. Three riders brought along their wives. It was a really fun group. Three of the bikes were Harleys. I was pleased to upset the balance with the 4th Japanese bike. Turns out my late invite came because another fireman was called out on a huge wildfire (still raging today) on the way to Los Angeles. He would've been on a Harley.

After dinner we went over to the cabin where there were plenty of beds for everyone. We planned to depart at 7:30 the next morning so everyone went to bed pretty early.

When I lead rides, I set a departure time an hour before I really want to get started, because my companions run on Hawaii time. This is Caleefornia, though, and we started out only 15 minutes late, in a cool-mountain-lake 52 degrees. It was beautiful.


Getting ready for the ride to breakfast.



We rode into Oakhurst for a great breakfast then headed up the hill and into Yosemite National Park.



The weather couldn't have been any better. After the cool morning start, the maximum for the day was probably around 80.


Parked by the tunnel




Ten of us


Framed half dome


Millions have posed here


Yosemite Valley




On the road to Tuolumne Meadow


From Glacier Point

One of the wives took loads of pictures from her back seat. I told her it made me feel like I was riding in the "Tour Day France" as she photographed us on the move. She's putting her photos on a CD-ROM for everybody, so I'll post a few when I get them.

The Shining Sea

My trip from sea to shining sea is finally completed, though the sea wasn't shining when I got there. I decided to reach the Pacific at Carmel because it's a beautiful spot, but also because the only tentsite available in all of California was not far up the road from there.

Carmel Beach on a cold September afternoon (yesterday).

The campground was up a mountain east of the bay, and though it was only 2800 feet high, it was well above the overcast that robbed the color from the Carmel/Monterey area.

My tentsite at Fremont Peak State Park, overlooking the overcast covering Monterey and Carmel. From above, it is truly the "shining sea" that was missing at the beach.

I will eventually get more details and more pictures put up on the trip blog. One surprise of the whole trip, however, was how my "wheels" attracted people and started conversations. It has been a better ice-breaker than a cute puppy.

Shortly after I parked the bike and began assessing the best placement for my tent, one of the young ladies from the neighboring site came over to chat, curious about the bike, of course. Soon, the other two girls in the party came over to chat. I wanted to get set up before sunset, so they invited me over for cocktails during "cocktail hour."

All three were in their mid-20s. One is a grad student in Spanish, working her way through school as a belly-dancer. She wants to be a language teacher. The second is a mother of 2-year-old twins, taking a much-needed break from them with her girlfriends. The third is a recent transplant from Florida working in a large corporate office.

What makes this worth "writing home about" is how quickly they decided I was more than an old quy with a cool bike. Most young people care little what us old folks have to say, but this group couldn't stop asking questions. I felt like a teacher trainer and a grandfather at the same time. It was lots of fun. Their questions faded away as the campfire turned to embers, and as I walked back to my own tentsite I realized how long it had been since anybody had asked my advice about anything at all except flying an airplane. I actually felt useful for an hour or so. It just might be time for me to move on.

This morning I woke up on the warm mountaintop, broke camp, and as I was getting ready to pack up and descend back into the cold valley another young gal in her 20s came over to chat. She was there with her husband, but he hadn't gotten up yet. Her uncle has a Goldwing and he travels around a lot. She grew up in Michigan and went on many road trips with her family when she was little. She actually enjoyed them because the kids in her family were "trained." Look out the window, no whining, get out of the car when it stops, etc. I chuckled thinking about our one big family road trip, which went surprisingly well. We compared notes on the Blue Ridge Mountains and I slipped in the normal complaint about brown California. She said she was also trained to say that California is not brown, it's "golden." Another delightful young lady.

This road trip is now done, but there are more to come. I didn't meet as many interesting people as I had hoped, but that was my fault. I was just going too fast. I did a six-week trip in two weeks. Next time I'll slow down. Meeting these 4 young ladies, two from Missouri, one from Florida, and one from Michigan, was a great way to cap off a wonderful ride across the country.

This morning, I rode into Monterey to revisit the old stomping grounds. I had breakfast on Cannery Row, which is now just a big tourist trap, nothing like when I went to school there. I planned to ride around the language school, but it is now secured like any other Army post, and has been since 9/11. It was quite a disappointment.

I proceeded to Alvarado Street, most of which is changed completely. One thing hardly changed though, is the bar in which I turned 21. Back then it was called "My Attic." It was a quiet little bar, patronized mostly by couples over 40 and 5 or 6 of my Chinese classmates. No other military guys ever went there. Mac, the bartender looked and sounded a lot like Broderick Crawford, a TV star of the time. He was like our grandfather and the other patrons were like our aunts and uncles. It was an amazing family. On payday Mac would collect a dollar from each of us, and at the end of the month he would host a picnic at a local park where we could enjoy our "family" even though we were broke.

Broderick Crawford

The "My Attic" building is still there, though I'm sure it has gone through dozens of versions of the neighborhood bar. It was a punk bar when I came to Monterey for a convention in the 90s. Now it is a live jazz music club, and I promised myself I will come back up soon to enjoy some jazz where my "family" used to hang out.

"My Attic," now called "Monterey Live"

When we graduated from the Defense Language Institute up the hill, my friends and I had a plaque made for Mac, declaring him the best bartender in the world. It wasn't for the drinks he mixed, but for the home he made for us.

"My Attic" has survived all these years because it has been placed on a state historical registry, most likely because it's where I celebrated turning 21. Or because it took in a group of young students far from home, and treated them like sons.

A clink of the scotch glass to Mac, the best bartender in the world.

4-wheeling it across America

Many people have asked to see pictures from my trip across the country. To make it easy, I decided to blog the trip to include painfully boring commentary with the pictures. Nobody really wants to see somebody else's vacation pictures, so this way I don't have to act like I don't see the yawning.

I have now finished blogging the second half of the trip, so if you're interested you can find it at www.wingofgold.blogspot.com. The best pictures are from the first half of the trip, and I'll eventually get them up as well.

Caption Contest

Abilene Abilene prettiest town that I've ever seen
The women there don't treat you mean in Abilene my Abilene - Jimmy Dean song

Made it to Abilene today from Natchez, MS. It was a long ride, over 550 miles, but it's good to have it all behind me as it will give me more time in Lubbock.

Lots of freeway time today, not many pictures, but after wasting lots of time in Jena, LA, looking for a level parking space for lunch and finally giving up, I had to take this picture in the middle of nowhere, TX. (Click on the picture to see it full size.)














1st Caption: After driving 2500 miles, I FINALLY found a parking place.

As I was getting ready to leave, a trucker walked out of the convenience store, looked at my bike and said, "Nice rig."

Any more caption ideas?

Pik-cha to da Max

I meant to put up the “after” photos of the new hound a couple weeks ago and just never took the time. His lineage seems to be mostly Schnauzer, with some other terrier mixed in. A lady at the dog park today thought she saw in him the Scottish Terrier from “Lady and the Tramp”. Could be. The way he looked when I found him, he probably should be named Tramp.

We’re progressing pretty well as a team, though I’ll spare most of the details. Apparently my recent interest in dog behavior has made me more annoying than Cesar himself. I’m taking him on the mile walk to the dog park as often as I can to socialize him. He had a sort of breakthrough the other day when a couple brought their pack of 4 youthful Basenjis—good looking dogs that Max got along with well. Before we left he was running full tilt from fence to fence in the park and having a great time. Very content on the walk home.

I still can’t get him to stand still in the alert pose that makes him look so good, but here are a few shots the day we got back from the groomers.