Thailand’s Northeast, Part 1: Vientiane to Udon Thani

January 13, 2010 | Location: Thailand | 4 Comments 

There’s no beach. Very few bars. Foreigners are few and far between, and the locals barely speak English. The cities are big and noisy. In a lot of ways, Thailand’s northeastern region known as Isaan is the “real” Thailand, without makeup and fancy costumes.

We loved it. Of course.

Jogging by the Lake

Thailand’s poorest region still shocked us with modernity as we stepped off the bus from Laos. Bertrand, a French veteriniarian who works for ElefantAsia in Laos, described riding up the road alongside the Mekong on his way north. “You’re riding along a dirt road, and on the Thai side of the river, you see fancy SUVs going by on asphalt. It’s as unreal as a car commercial.”

Udon Thani’s friendliness surprised us next. Everywhere we walked, people smiled at us simply, eager to say hello. After the long walk to our guesthouse, we knew we were somewhere special, a Thai city where foreigners rarely ventured. One tuk-tuk driver saw us walk out of the train station one afternoon. “Welcome to Thailand!” he exclaimed with a grin. Oh, we felt welcomed alright!

Although the center of Udon Thani features the usual farang trappings of bars and foreign restaurants catering to retired expats, we found the heart of Udon in the west, near its large reservoir. In the evenings, Udon Thani residents gather there for open-air aerobics, or to jog or bike around the lake. In a superb show of business-savvy, massage stalls have popped up on the southeastern side of the artificial lake, catering to those who need a break after their run. Then, further north, a series of street stalls offer everything from fresh juices to Thai hot pot. The Thais enjoying the area seemed full of positive energy. Just strolling down the path, we felt buoyed by their spirits.

Forget Bacon!

Isaan offers a cuisine that is both Thai and Lao at once. Although Laos and Thailand share a lot of common history, the two countries have evolved separately in modern times: while Thailand prospered under the influx of foreign investment and tourism, Laos only recently emerged from its isolation, in a bid to escape crippling poverty.

Truth be told, it was easier to experience the food shared by Isaan and Laos here than in Vientiane, given that the Thais have the means to eat out, which is unfortunately not true of a majority of Lao. Street stalls and tiny restaurants thrive in Udon Thani, and you can even share the company of Thais when you sit down on a terrace for a laap (spicy meat salad) and a drink.

The most memorable item in Isaan’s food repertoire has to be its pork sausage, spicy, fat and slightly fermented, cooked right on the street. One will set you back 20B (65 cents US), and comes with fresh chili peppers, cabbage, and sometimes pickled ginger or raw garlic. You try the sausage, savoring the juicy pork, then bite on the chili, garlic or ginger to kick it up a notch. Too intense? Chew on some cabbage to cool down. This is the real, decadent expression of pork’s goodness.

Forget bacon!

Fusion Food

With one morning to go, Helene and I headed out early to the side of the reservoir, for one more Udon Thani specialty: kai khata.

Meaning literally “oeuf au plat”, the dish consists of an egg cooked in a small pan sunny side up, and sprinkled with a generous helping of Isaan sausage. A typical Thai dish, it incorporates influences from the French by way of Vietnamese immigrants to the region, and is best enjoyed with Vietnamese-style baguette, cooked on coals.

In other words, a true fusion dish, and not a five-star chef in sight.

We ate our breakfast merrily, enjoying the sun, and sipping our sweet Thai coffees, bidding farewell to the denizens of Udon Thani. It was time to board the local train to Khon Kaen.

Where to Go

The town of Udon Thani is conveniently located on the Bangkok-Nong Khai train line, and makes a pleasant stop on a trip from Bangkok to Vientiane. The train station is central, and a number of songthaews travel through the city, a ride costing 8-10B.

The reservoir is located west of the city center, and can be reached via songthaew. There’s a number of open-air restaurants on the northeastern side of the reservoir. Evening massage stalls and street stalls are found on the southeastern side. Early in the morning, these stalls disappear in favor of a few kai khata stalls.

The Backpack Foodie’s travel through Isaan continues in Thailand’s Northeast,Part 2: Udon Thani to Khorat

Three Travel Secrets: Backpack Foodie Edition

January 12, 2010 | Location: The World | 5 Comments 

There’s this meme going around where travel bloggers each spill three “secrets” they learned from traveling. The concept also involves tagging five other bloggers, but as you can imagine, at the bottom of the pyramid you run out of friends to enroll, so I’ll skip that part.

Gillian and Jason of One Giant Step kindly tagged me in their own Three Travel Secrets entry; and so, here are my own!

Local Food Is Safer than Tourist Food.

I’ve lived three years in Shanghai and ate mostly local food, the majority of which came from small, family-run places; yet the majority of times I fell sick was from eating imported food that appealed mostly to tourists and expats.

Heard about all those travelers who meticulously eat hotel food, drink only bottled water, and peel their fruits, yet fall sick because they drank one fruit juice? I’ll bet you a hundred on the dollar that the so-called safe food, not the juice, is what got them sick.

If you stick to a few simple rules – always eat in busy places, look for clean, well-lit places, eat what the locals eat, and trust your instincts – then you’ll find local, even street food, to be a perfectly safe and healthy diet choice. Plus, it’s a hell of a lot tastier than that rewarmed pizza with three week-old imported mozzarella, and it’ll save you tons of money. Finally, you’ll encourage local, often family-run businesses, instead of foreign-owned corporations.

To Find Great Places, Read a Guidebook.

Then go where they say not to go.

The mainstream guidebooks focus their energy on places that tourists will enjoy, which typically means tourist facilities, some local nightlife, and a minimum of sightseeing. If you visit a place with none of these, what you’ll discover is somewhere where the people will be genuinely curious to engage you in conversation, and where you’ll see very little of the typical harassment associated with tourist centers.

I’ve gone against the recommendations of Lonely Planet and Rough Guides a few times. Every time, I found a charming, unpretentious place where we were able to relate to the locals as human beings instead of peddlers, and where we could enjoy a slice of local life. Every time.

You Can Communicate Without a Common Language.

Don’t let the lack of a common language prevent you from engaging the people you meet! A smile and a nod go a long way. With a lot of patience and the ability to laugh at yourself, you can force your way through the language barrier.

That’s not to say it’s not a good idea to pick up a few words of the local language. As a matter of fact, knowing ‘hello’, ‘thank you’ and ‘this is delicious’ can go a long way towards endearing you to the people you meet. In a country where the local dialect differs from the official language (say, in Shanghai, where Mandarin is the official language but Shanghainese is the local dialect,) you’ll entice a few belly laughs and big grins by saying ‘thank you’ in the local lingo rather than the official language.

Seventy percent of communication is non-verbal, as the saying goes. You may not be able to hold deep philosophical conversations this way, but you can still connect with your fellow humans on a personal, fundamental level. Try it!

Laos Astray

January 9, 2010 | Location: Laos | 6 Comments 

We came to Laos with the best intentions. We meant to explore the countryside a bit, to stray from the well-beaten roads of Thailand and unto the dirt roads of an emerging country.

Maybe the lure of French food and coffee was too great; or perhaps we were just tired from three months on the road. Either way, our adventures ground to a halt for a few weeks.

Travel Fatigue

We were travel fatigued. I’ve lived abroad a long time before – three years in Shanghai, to be exact – but the rigors of long-term travel are still new to me. In Shanghai, I had an apartment, a steady job, and a growing circle of friends. These things go a long way towards helping you relax, even in the midst of culture shock.

But on the road, carrying your house on your back, and frequently running into shoddy guesthouses or unexpected difficulties, you don’t often have the luxury to let your guard down. And if you’re traveling in a pair, there are days when you crave the company of someone who hasn’t heard your stories a thousand times before.

And so, you retreat into the familiar. You no longer have the strength to sit at a street stall and point at the other tables. You waste your days in air-conditioned cafés, surfing the net.

It’s not to say we didn’t enjoy Vientiane. We walked around a great deal, and thanks to the friendly owner at Banlao restaurant, we found some culinary gems in the Lao-only portion of their menu. Near the Thai consulate, we enjoyed Laos’ take on the Vietnamese phở, and fell in love with Makphet, a restaurant staffed by ex-street kids, and whose profits go to help those still out there.

After two misses, our guesthouse, the Souphaphone, was a fantastic place to crash and relax. The staff is super-friendly and helpful, the rooms impeccably clean and tastefully decorated. In fact, if you’re in Vientiane and the place is in your budget, you could do much worse than give them your business.

Back on the Road

And one day, we picked up our courage and hit the road again.

Sitting in the mall next to the bus station, I was already dreaming of our next adventures: first the Thai province of Isaan, still firmly off the beaten path. Then, a stop in Bangkok for visa applications, and off to India we go.

It’s not you, Laos; it’s me. I needed a break from permanent travel, and your tranquil capital obliged. I hope one day I can explore the rest of the countryside.

But first, Isaan awaits.

Where to Go

When we first stumbled upon Makphet, they sounded too good to be true. Fortunately, they’re the real deal: founded by Friends International, the restaurant serves as a training ground for street children who learn valuable skills to help them escape poverty. Plus, the food is an amazing, fresh take on traditional Lao dishes. What’s not to like? They’re located on Thanon Setthathirat.

Banlao Restaurant is a small, open-air terrace  with the requisite foreign food, but a surprising Lao-only page at the back featuring fantastically spicy local specialties. My pick: the Luang Prabang pork sausage, served with raw garlic. They’re on rue François Ngin.

Souphaphone Guesthouse opened in late 2008, and still hasn’t made it into guidebooks. It’s one of the cleanest, nicest places I’ve stayed in, and the staff is absolutely wonderful. They’re on Thanon Setthathirat, near François Ngin.

The Spirits of Indochina

December 12, 2009 | Location: Laos | Leave a Comment 

On the terrace of Vista Wi-Fi Café in central Vientiane stands a dark red spirit house. The Vista owners follow the ancient belief, prevalent throughout Thailand, Cambodia and Laos, that they should build a residence to host the celestial spirits whenever they erect a new building. As per tradition, they place a daily offering to the spirits in the house, to attract the protection of the spirits on their business.

This being Vientiane, the Vista Café leave two croissants and a cup of coffee for the resident spirits.

If the spirits of Indochina can have croissants and espresso for the petit déjeuner, why should I deny myself the same pleasure?

Colonial Echoes

Even today, there’s no denying the French influence on the Laos capital. All government departments, and many small commerces, carry signs in French and in Lao, and it’s easier in some areas of town to find an espresso than a laap (Lao meat salad.) The French themselves have returned to Laos since the day of La sale guerre, the First Indochina War. They show the quiet respect of a divorcee learning to be friends with his ex-wife.

As with Vietnam, French colonialism has left its imprint on the local food culture. Cafés are everywhere, with atmospheric French names such as Le croissant d’or or Café Indochine. Most of the coffee on offer is grown on the Bolaven Plateau, in the south of Laos, where French settlers first planted the bean. Roasted dark, it yields an espresso with a modest foam and a bittersweet aftertaste, best enjoyed with a croissant au beurre or fresh baguette.

South by Southeast Asia

With its French clientele and its promise of $3 USD steak au poivre at lunchtime, Le Vendôme in central Vientiane has lured Helene and me on many occasions. After three months on the road in Southeast Asia, we grew to like the restaurant’s mostly expatriate crowd, and found its menu an effective antidote to homesickness.

The owner hails from the south of France, which helps explain the many bullfighting posters on display on the walls. His restaurant is a Vientiane institution, having stood on the same spot for the last fifteen years. Here, we rub shoulders with VIPs from Laos and elsewhere, NGO workers, and the occasional tourist looking for the balm of a glass of French wine. Besides steak, Le Vendôme offers a variety of soufflés, gratins and meat-rich salads that would sit proudly on a bistro table in Paris, at a fraction of the price.

As we sit on the terrace at Vendôme, the French patrons, often in the sing-song accent of the South, fill the air with their love of argument and their good humor.

Our restless spirits sated, at least for the time being, we return to our guesthouse, wondering what other offerings Vientiane will have for us next.

Where to Go

Cafés are plentiful in central Vientiane, and restaurants without an espresso machine are surprisingly rare. Many businesses sell the fair trade, organic Lao Mountain Coffee. They claim to be the only fair trade co-op in Laos, though many other coffee vendors claim fair trade practices as well. You should be aware that the lack of fair trade certification does not mean this claim is false; if possible, you should ask the vendor for details on the grower’s practices, and base your judgement on more than a certification sticker.

The best espresso and croissant in town, in my opinion, can be found at the tiny café inside Phimphone Market, on Setthathirath Road. The Market also sells Lao Mountain Coffee.

JoMa Bakery Café, right next door on Setthathirath Road, makes a great espresso as well, and they do offer free wifi, though I would be hard-pressed to recommend their croissants.

Vista Wi-Fi Café and its spirit house can be found on Rue François Ngin.

Le Vendôme can be found on the east-west street on the south side of Wat Impeng (Impeng Temple.) Their lunch specials, including a superb steak au poivre vert at 25,000 kip ($3 USD), stands in my mind as the best steak value for money anywhere in the world.

Welcome to Our Happy Place

November 26, 2009 | Location: Thailand | 6 Comments 

We only meant to pass through for a couple of days. Helene yearned for the seaside, and I was keen on exploring the Thailand lying off the tourist trail. The train brought us to this town on a sunny afternoon, and two weeks later, we can’t bear the thought of leaving. You could say we’re in love.

We like this place so much, in fact, I’m not gonna divulge its name on this blog. (You’re welcome to ask me nicely in private, though.) Let’s just say it’s a couple hours away from Bangkok, on the coast by the seaside, and it lacks a bar scene and wide mastery of English, thus making it less desirable for tourists than Kho Samui or Phuket.

Welcome to our Happy Place.

Ocean with a View

In Happy Place, Thailand, the Ocean beats on the jetty to wake me up. On the first day, Helene and I felt endless wonder at this, but nowadays, Helene jokes that she’s getting fed up with the constant woosh-wooshing of the waves. It’s certainly inconvenient if you wake up and need to pee, but I can hardly complain.

By the terms of our trip, this represents a major splurge for us: at $25 USD/night, we enjoy a balcony on the sea, right off impeccably-clean rooms, with a fresh change of sheets and towels each day. (And yes, before you ask, my ecological conscience itches pretty hard.) Did I mention our toilets can flush, the sink doesn’t simply empty on your feet to a drain on the floor, and there’s hot water pressure in the shower? I know: mind-boggling.

Hill Tribe Beans

We make our first stop, usually around noon, in a tiny local café called Coco House. My mid-day jolt of caffeine consists of iced espresso: an espresso shot, mixed with condensed milk, and poured over a mountain of ice, Thai style. Helene, for her part, prefers the iced americano, whose only difference lies in the use of sugar instead of condensed milk. Both coffees are made with an espresso machine, and the beans are brought in from Chiang Mai in the north, where they’re grown by a Hmong hill tribe.

The Coco House became our favorite hangout spot in Happy Place due to its excellent coffee, and the warmth of its owner, Tchim, a gentle, smiling woman who just opened her café a week before we arrived. We also befriended the three year-old Nimoy, who insists on helping out whenever the adults prepare coffee for us. She’s easily the most adorable barista I’ve ever seen.

Bounty from the Sea

Right from our hotel balcony, we can spy the fishermen plying their trade at the bay’s mouth. A fishing vessel accosts the pier from time to time, and pick-up trucks rush to fill their backs with fresh catch, destined to local markets and restaurants. Two years of living in Alberta, and it’s the first time I can think of a reason to own a pick-up.

Fishing is a way of life in Happy Place. A walk along the seaside promenade will take you past various mackerels and shrimp left to dry in the sun. The sun-dried shrimp are ground into a paste, used enthusiastically in the local cuisine. The crabs you might see running along the beachfront below end up in som tam, Thailand’s spicy papaya salad.

When it comes to dinner, the few species caught by the fishing boats, or sometimes simply by a villager with a net, can be seen all over the beachfront restaurant menus. Crab, shrimp and squid constitute the staples, often complemented with a few larger catches: moonfish, grouper, butterfish, mackerel. No fish on the menu is garanteed, as its availability squarely depends on the boats’ luck in hauling them to shore. A few days of stormy weather, and your favorite fish is nowhere to be found.

Dinner on the Promenade

Once the sun sets on Happy Place, it’s time to enjoy all that the life in a small Thai seaside town has to offer. Although the night market and a few other restaurants offered us great memories, none made us return with such enthusiasm as restaurant Demer.

Demer, a small, family-run restaurant on the promenade, consists of a simple, rustic roof, separated from an open-air kitchen by a wall. Like its competitors, Demer offers mostly seafood dishes, ranging from $1 USD for the Thai staples such as crab som tam, to $7 for a fresh whole grouper, deep-fried and served with a handmade sweet and sour sauce. Add $5, and you’ve got yourself a bucket of ice, bottles of soda water, and a bottle of Sang Som Thai whiskey.

We spent leisurely hours at Demer, savoring the seafood and everything from tom ka (spicy coconut soup) to pad thai (Thai fried noodles). Helene has befriended the restaurant’s cat with offerings of shrimp tails. For my part, I exchanged smiles and raised glasses with East Asia’s friendliest group of bikers, whose Harley-Davidsons clash with their preference for Whitney Houston and Thai crooners.

The Call of Cuttlefish

Then, the sound of a squeaking wheel makes me drool with the eagerness of Pavlov’s dog. The sound comes from a street cart, which a white-capped, gentle-mannered Thai man pushes up and down the promenade. Hung to dry with color-coded clothing pins are magnificent dried cuttlefish, which the man grills over charcoal and presses repeatedly with the turn of a crank. Served hot and with a spicy, sweet, peanuty sauce, it’s a real steal at $0.80 per cuttlefish, easily the best I’ve ever had.

On calm evenings, green lights dot the horizon beyond the man’s pushcart: these belong to small boats fishing for cuttlefish, who are drawn to the colored spot. Straight from the ocean, they are sold in the market behind our hotel, dried in the sun that bakes my skin, and grilled on the curb by a man who sells it to me with a warm smile.

It’s easy to take roots in a place like this.

A Time and a Place

Time, alas, marches on, especially when you want it to stop.

Two weeks after arriving in Happy Place, we had to leave it again lest we overextend our Thai visas. We paid one last visit to Coco House, where we were treated to a poignant farewell by our new-found friends.

Tchim gave us two photographs as a souvenir. The first one depicts the King and Queen of Thailand, an auspicious and significant gift considering the love of the Thai for their sovereign. On the second, a younger Tchim smiles for the camera. Tchim took the time to write a long message in English, all the more heartfelt and poignant for the effort it must have taken her, expressing her friendship and fondness in a language she can barely speak.

Back in Bangkok, the thought of other Happy Places keeps me sane. In Happy Place, we found the first reward of travelling slow: we stumbled upon a place where we can be content to while the night away, learning rudiments of Thai in small cafés and restaurants.

What defined this experience for us is both a place, but also a time. Things change fast the world over, including ourselves. Perhaps we will come back here, a few weeks or a few years from now. With luck, we will enjoy Coco House’s espresso again, or share some of our shrimp with Demer’s cat. But like many places before it in Thailand, the vanguard of foreign tourism has already begun its incursion: retired Europeans, led by their young Thai wives, have made their way here, and they’re hungry for fish and chips.

It’s, sadly, entirely possible that in a few years, we will barely recognize our favorite spot under the concrete of a beach resort. I can only hope these changes leave our favorite business owners and their employees rich, and content in their life.

Where to Go

“Secret” places are hard to find, especially in tourist-heavy countries like Thailand. I’ve discovered a few through my travels by looking for places described by guidebooks as ‘uninteresting’, which has led me to places without tourist trappings but with plenty of local character. You should determine what you really want out of a travel experience, and take a chance to step out of the guidebook: at the least, you’ll be treated to a slice of life you rarely get to experience in tourist-heavy areas.

As with food, the locals are usually a great source of information on travel destinations. They tend to go to places where fewer tourists go, and get to enjoy lower prices and more authentic food. The downside is a lack of tourist facilities, less English spoken, and poorer bar scenes: and if you’re like me, that’s actually all positives.