Tag: asia

All aboard the Fat Shan, next stop Macau.

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ferries-antigos-macau-hk-111

Living in Hong Kong was incredible. We were there when Hong Kong was a British Crown Colony, one of the last gems of the British Empire, with the Union Jack proudly flying from every building and the Royal Navy prepared to meet any challenge. The British Crown Colony was well represented in the day (my downstairs neighbor at the time was Sir Ivo Rigby, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Hong Kong). I miraculously became a Life Member of the Royal Hongkong Yacht Club (I still am, by the way). Amazing, even now.

We all had weekend activities and events to attend; however, one of my favorite things to do was to take the boat ferry from Hong Kong to Macau, which was then a Portuguese Colony. It was an overnight voyage up the Pearl River, and the two boats operating the service were “sister” ships, the Man Shan and the Fat Shan. If only they were still afloat. Traveling on either one was like being in a Sydney Greenstreet movie. Both vessels had overnight compartments, furnished with ancient wicker chairs and slatted windows. The distance between Hong Kong and Macau was about 40 miles, and the boat moved along at about 5 knots per hour. Just the right speed for an adventure.

When we finally docked in Macau, it was like we’d just arrived in Lisbon, Portugal, from some faraway place. Everywhere were signs in Portuguese; the hotels had Portuguese menus and tiny rooms. Around every corner, shops sold Portuguese food and, best of all, terrific Portuguese wine (way better than the Mateus we were gulping by the gallon). Who wouldn’t enjoy this? Here we were, 40 miles away from Hong Kong amid a tiny part of Portugal. It was a mini-vacation, and every time we steamed back down the river to Hong Kong, we looked forward to another river cruise back to Macau. You know, some things were better “then” than “now.”

Let’s take the 8AM train to Laos today?

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Train and cars crossing Thai-Lao Friendship Bridge over river during sunset

While we were waiting for our Thai permanent residence permits, we had to leave Thailand every 90 days and return as tourists. Then we waited another 90 days before leaving Thailand and returning with a new visitor’s temporary visa. Everyone had this process down pat and knew what to do. The Thai railway offered a route that was ideal for us (and our fellow travelers). There was a morning train that departed the Bangkok station at 0800 every day, reaching its final destination, Nong Khai, Thailand, in the afternoon. The same train left Nong Khai station a few hours later, giving all of us the chance to take a boat across the Mekong River to the Laotian side to have our passports stamped.

Once we got to the Laotian side, we climbed into one of several small taxis and sputtered off to Vientiane, where we arrived at the Lang Xang Hotel for lunch. Vientiane was once a French Colonial city, and even then, most people in the shops and hotels spoke French.

Everything about the restaurant, including the menus and food, was straight off a dusty Asian version of the Champs Élysées in Paris. Food was always great, and we washed everything down with cans of Beaujolais. Who knew? After lunch, we’d reverse the process, taking the taxi to the river and crossing back into Thailand at the ramshackle immigration booth, where we received our “new” entry stamp to stay in Thailand for another 90 days. We all reboarded the same train and wheezed our way back to the Bangkok train station some 12 hours later.

There were several variations of this immigration theme until we had our permanent visa, and we also took the Thai train several times from Bangkok to Butterworth (the arrival station for Penang, Malaysia) to repeat the process. This was just one more amazing experience in a long line of fantastic events.

We were so fortunate.

Let’s take the 8AM train to Laos today?

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While awaiting our Thai permanent residence permits, we left Thailand every 90 days and returned as tourists, then waited another 90 days for a new visitor visa. Everyone knew this process well. The Thai railway was ideal, with a daily 0800 train from Bangkok to Nong Khai, arriving in the afternoon. The same train left Nong Khai hours later, allowing us to cross the Mekong River to Laos for passport stamping.

Once we got to the Laotian side, we climbed into one of several small taxis and sputtered off to Vientiane, where we arrived at the Lang Xang Hotel for lunch. Vientiane was once a French Colonial city, and even then, most people in the shops and the hotel spoke French. Everything about the restaurant, including the menus and food, was straight from a dusty Asian version of the Champs-Élysées in Paris. The food was always great, and we washed it all down with cans of Beaujolais. Who knew?

After lunch, we took a taxi to the river, crossed into Thailand, visited the ramshackle immigration booth, and received a new entry stamp to stay 90 more days. We then reboarded the train and returned to Bangkok after 12 hours. We repeated this process several times until we got our permanent visa. We also took the Thai railway from Bangkok to Butterworth, stopping at Batu Ferringhi and the Lone Pine Hotel, and visiting the E&O Hotel in Malaysia. These trips were among many fantastic experiences. We were very lucky.

Hey, do you want to see the Bridge on the River Kwai?

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River Kwai

Our family spent the first week in Bangkok, staying at the Siam Intercontinental Hotel until we found a home. One Saturday by the pool, I read in The Bangkok Post about places near Bangkok. I asked my wife if she wanted to see the bridge on the River Kwai. She mentioned she’d seen it in San Francisco in the movie, but I explained the real bridge was in Thailand near Kanchanaburi. She agreed, and we set off in our small car with a local driver.

After about 3 hours of our rocket ride, we arrived at the town near the River Kwai. We were thrilled to get out of the car, and when we looked around, we saw a small, very well-kept war Cemetery and parts of the original bridge built by the prisoners of war. We were the only people there, and we stood in the sunshine trying to visualize how that all came about and what happened to the men who built the bridge. We saw grave markers stretching into the distance and later learned more than 7,000 prisoners were buried there.

At that moment, we realized we were looking at something very, very powerful, and it was a long way away from the movie that played when we were at home. For the first time, we all understood we were living in Thailand, halfway around the world from San Francisco, and that we weren’t tourists in another country; we were in our new home, anxious, excited, and ready for the adventures ahead.