Avid travelers love to show off their passport stamps. One of my favorites is from China which features the Great Wall and Mandarin script. Today, after what turned out to be a small crusade I finally got my hands on the elusive visa for The Republic of the Union of Myanmar.
It is, in one word, lame.
And now it’s time for a ten hour overnight train to Chiang Mai.
Check it out folks!
“What are you doing on Khaosan Road?” the taxi driver asked as I jumped into a taxi and hit the start button on the meter without asking for permission.
Like a priest asking for my confession, the taxi driver was looking into my soul to gauge my intentions for going to the street of fun and filth.
So what am I doing in Khaosan Road? Performing my civic duty of showing newcomers to Bangkok what to avoid. It’s a rite of passage for backpackers coming to Thailand to witness first-hand the ugliness of exploit tourism.
Khaosan is a cluster duck of everything that is worth seeing just to say you have been. Some may argue that an underground ping pong show should be the next stop. While l strongly disagree, I guess everyone is entitled to his or her own fetish.
What am I doing on Khaosan Road? The better question is what did you do on Khaosan Road.
The headliner and my headline is DJ Jazzy Jeff. Yesterday I went from the bright lights of Bangkok to the verge of blackout courtesy of beats by Jeff.
Often nobody asks me, “How do you become a travel blogger?” People actually post on that topic. Anyhow, someone needs to answer the question, “How do you become a world famous DJ?”
Points open the doors to party but being paid to do the same has to be a lot more fun than fumbling through the features of WordPress. Forget affiliate links, DJs make millions for publishing their Spotify playlist throughout the world.
That’s all I got for today. All complaints about the incoherence should be forward to Jazz.
Myanmar is closed. That’s what a piece of paper said outside the embassy today when I went to put in my visa application.
No announcement on their website, no national holiday, and no other reason given as to why they were closed.
Worse, I had to book a flight to Yangon before I went to the embassy to meet the ‘urgency’ requirement so the visa could be processed the same day. Now, I have to wait till Monday to see if the country will be open which messed up my perfect itinerary.
AirAsia, unlike American carriers, does not allow a cancellation within 24 hours without penalty. I have to write a strongly worded letter to see if I can receive a refund should I chose to change my flight.
The whole thing could’ve been avoided if Myanmar announced to me and a whole group of tourists who arrived there promptly at 9AM that they were closed for business today.
Another visa failure from yours truly. How many is that in the last 3 months?
The press in Bangkok is commercial. Everything is for sale. A stroll down Sukhumvit Road road lands you in the hornet’s nest of merchants hawking merchandise from fake Polos to particular PEDs.
Minding your manners with a simple no thank you does little to fend off the vendor who like one of unsound mind continues to mumble to himself.
“100 Baht!”
“OK 50 Baht!”
The unilateral negotiation continues even after the disinterested customer has marched well past his mobile kiosk.
As day gives way to night, the solicitation takes on a darker form as the proprietor stops pushing products and starts peddling sex.
Caught in the crossfire of the trade are young, innocent girls who have been sold into a lifestyle of submission.
Perhaps more shameful than the local pimp is the shameless global consumer who misconstrues the stamp in his passport as a visa to act disgracefully.
The pervasiveness of sex tourism in SE Asia does not make its existence any less deplorable. While patrons of the trade would like to pretend their participation is nothing out of the norm, curiously these pathetic persons make a concerted effort to avoid eye contact with those who may judge in the alternative.
Everything may be for sale but that on its own isn’t a reason to buy.
I woke up and the power was off. I combed through my phone to figure out what I had did, who I had called, and what texts I had sent.
Actually, none of that is true.
This is my third time in Bangkok and The Hangover has yet to happen in both senses of the word. The only anxiety I had was not from keeping up my daily post so I’m trying to sneak in an a-live one before the clock strikes.
The pic of the rooftop Aloft pool should make up for inattention to my blog readers. 
The knock on American travelers is that we will fly to the ends of the earth to visit a new country but we still order McDonald’s when we get there.
This isn’t a redundant post for why you should try cockroaches when you’re in Bangkok or goat testicles in Beirut. Having lived in Mongolia for the last four months, I’m taking the opposite stance: eat local.
And for me eat local means eating foods of my native locale not local foods. That’s why I’m savoring this 290 Baht ($9) Subway foot long turkey on wheat with Thai peppers.
Street food and sound prices will come post this sandwich after I regain my sanity from living on whatever Mongolian restaurants claim to be ‘Western’ food.
Next time you are traveling and somebody (probably someone who doesn’t travel and most likely a cyber antagonist) questions why you detoured for a Whopper, tell him ThePointsOfLife said it was OK.
I did have a Chang beer with my meal so that counts for something.
You know what really grinds my gears? I’ll tell you.
I hand my passport over to the immigration officer, present my half smile, and try to think about baseball as he studies my every move and swipes my passport.
Seconds that seem like hours later, the sweet sound of ‘stamp stamp’ then my freedom is handed back to me.
Days, weeks, months later or whenever I’m feeling down on life, I flip through my passport to relive the memories by analyzing the glory days of stamps past.
“There’s Canada, wow that place is lame,” I remark as I keep flipping through. “Oh, here’s one for New Orleans, what a crazy country that is.”
Temporary solace turns to anger and frustration as I rifle through page after page of indecipherable garbage: stamps on stamps on stamps, got stamps on stamps on stamps.
Why Mr. Immigration do you stamp so haphazardly? Who do you place your stamp in the middle of an empty, crisp page? Worse, why do you not make sure you have enough ink before you stamp?
Final complaint: why do you stamp my passport Mr. KL immigration, you know I’m taking the next Air Asia boat out of here?
And that’s what grinds my gears.
Goodnight Canada
When I am served a glass of champagne and some fresh OJ, my programmed response is that it must be time to take off. Down the glass in style, tilt the seat back against policy, then wait for that noise of the engine revving.
Check, check, check, Beijing we have…
We have nothing. We are stuck. The announcement is: “Sorry we have technical problems.”
Two things come to mind:
1. Glad we weren’t airborne.
2. Can I have more champagne?
The passenger in front of me was more perturbed by the delay so when I flagged the flight attendant to my seat she was justifiably uneasy. With a warm smile I turned to her and asked, “Can I have more champagne?”
For a second she was confused. Then she realized I wasn’t going to admonish her for something out of her control. After a sigh of relief and a gentle laugh, she brought me more bubbly.
I’m not worried that we are delayed because the arrival in Bangkok was scheduled for midnight so it isn’t like I’m going to miss the Monday night party. Furthermore, how’s being short with the flight attendant going to make the plane take off sooner?
And just as I’m writing this the flight attendant brought a bootleg iPad with some movies for me to watch.
I have to say I never had thoughts one way or another about Air China besides a vehicle getting me from point A to point B, but this business class seat and the service has made me hopeful, if we ever get off the ground.
Or if they don’t run out of champagne.
Were you expecting another shameful Blog Giveaway post promoting myself? (If you act now, you can still get a copy of my book! OK, I’ll drop it.)
It saddens me that my time as the featured blogger on BoardingArea has come to an end. We’ve had such a great time together, wouldn’t you agree? By the explosion in blog viewership I would concur.
I would like to give many thanks for the great comments, the insightful feedback, and the critics out there who will keep me on my toes from making more legal, blogging, and grammar faux pas.
Before they snatch the mic away from me and before my gate to BKK service with uncertain service to Burma is called (there is only 1 Gate in the Mongolian Airport), I would like to invite you to keep following me on all the usual social media platforms or check me and the other up-and-coming bloggers on Prior2Boarding or directly on ThePointsOfLife.com.
I trust you have found my blog to be a bit different from others and hope you welcome that my tone and style of writing is a little more explicit than the norm.
I’ve made a slide show to commemorate all the time we had together.
Till next time,
Keep Churning My Friends, both new and old.
Alexander
JD/MBA/WorldExplorer/Author
