6/14/03, Savannakhet, Laos — I’ve now spent a week cycling south from Vientien and am now in Savannakhet, where I will rest for a few days before heading south again for Pakse, which is close to the Cambodian border. I’ve been told that this is a hippie haven, so I might just spend some time there.

Laos doesn’t have any big cities. Vientien, the capitol, is the largest, and it really isn’t much bigger than Azusa. Savannakhet is the next largest city. This is a pretty, though somewhat run down, former French colony, and I really like it here. That’s a good thing, because I need a few days rest before cycling any more. Even though the roads here have been good (paved and flat) so far, I don’t think I’m in much danger of getting too many speeding tickets in this heat.

Not only is this a quaint little former colony, but I find the cost of living to be quite reasonable—not nearly as expensive as that yuppie-infested Mexico. I’m paying $2.25 a night for a luxury suite at the Santyphab Hotel, which boasts of having the cleanest outhouse of all hotels in town. Not only that, but it is on the bank of the crystal clear and sparkling Mekong River, which looks almost as inviting as the Ganges. I just can’t wait to go skinny dipping.

My impression of Laos so far is that it is an Asian version of Mayberry RFD. Everyone I cycle past in the small villages smiles, waves and says “sabaidii.” I certainly hope that “sabaidii” doesn’t mean “fuck you.”

Whenever I stop for water or noodles, it is quite common for most of the village to come over to meet the foreigner who is cycling through town. You would almost think that white people riding through rural Laos were a rarity, the way people act. I have a poor quality Lao phrase book, and a few of the villagers can speak some very limited English, so I am able to attempt to make some friendly conversation.

“I teacher from America. Teacher America no work three month in year. I vacation. I bicycle Vientien to Singapore.”

The idea of an exotic and adventurous vacation seems to be a totally alien and incomprehensible idea to the local villagers, and I think they are saying to each other, “No wonder those crazy Americans lost the war”.

Actually, I am having less problem communicating here than I did in France. No matter what people say, I still think that for a Frenchman to be caught speaking or understanding English is a guillotine offense.

The latest item of high tech gadgetry that I installed on the Holy Skinkmobile before I left for this trip is a Donald Duck tricycle horn that I bought at Toys R US. When a group of kids, and frequently even adults, wave at me as I ride past and I toot the horn, this frequently causes such laughter that they are actually rolling over on the ground.

One big difference I’ve noticed about cycling in a third world country as compared to Europe is that almost all of the good road kill has been taken off by the locals before I can get to it. This is causing me to spend a fortune on food that I had not anticipated. Did you know that a bowl of noodles over here can cost as much as 80 cents? One class of road kill that seems to have been totally overlooked by the locals is small and unidentifiable animals that have been stepped on by elephants. This is starting me to think of creative recipes for crepes. Because of all of the elephants, water buffalo, crazy tuk-tuks and tigers, about half the road kill is some poor guy on a motorscooter. But this somehow doesn’t look appetizing.

In Pakse, which I hear is somewhat of a hippie haven, I might spend four or five days before heading west back into Thailand, just north of the Cambodian border. I think I will avoid cycling in Cambodia because of steep hills with muddy roads and extreme distances between villages. I do hope to be able to find a way to leave the Holy Skinkmobile at a hotel in Thailand and travel by bus to Angkor Wat for a few days. This would really be an experience.

I still don’t have any travel schedule except that in about a month I want to be in southern Thailand near Surat Thani, where I want to spend several weeks in a Buddhist monastery studying meditation. From there I will return to my old home of Malaysia, leisurely cycling toward Singapore for the rest of the vacation. I still have friends in Jahore, which is just across the border from Singapore.

6/5/03, Vientien, Laos — I was able to get the Holy Skinkmobile on a bus in Bangkok last night, and just 14 short hours later I arrived here in Vientien, the most sophisticated and cosmopolitan city in the Peoples’ Republic of Laos. After wandering around the city a little, I’m beginning to think I have made the same mistake I made on my previous bicycle rides, and over-packed. This just does not look like the sort of place where I will have many occasions to wear either my tuxedo or my white dinner jacket. The capital of Laos looks to be about the size of Azusa. And this is the biggest city in the entire country.

After consulting my map, I’ve decided that heading west into Chang Mei might not be such a good idea. The road appears to wind through mountains for many miles before I can start south again alongside a river. This area is called the golden triangle.

My other option is to follow a road that closely parallels the Mekong River. I think this is the old Ho Chi Minh trail. My map makes it look like it is probably paved at least most of the way to Cambodia. Since this road parallels a river, the terrain should be fairly flat. This is not the sort of weather that makes peddling up steep hills seem like it would be a lot of fun.

Also, taking this route will give me an opportunity to relive some modern history. Just think, I will be following in the footsteps of those heroic and glorious freedom fighters who defeated the terrorist American axis of evil in their heroic struggle to build a utopia for the proletariat a generation ago and rid the area of the decadent capitalist influence. In case I see an F4 flying overhead, my plan is to jump off the Holy Skinkmobile and run like hell for cover in the jungle.

I’m not sure what route I’ll take once I arrive in Cambodia, but I’ll cross that swamp when I get to it. I think I’ll spend tomorrow sightseeing here, as I still haven’t taken any pictures, and then I’ll start cycling towards Cambodia on Saturday. This looks to be about 1000 km.

From the map, it looks like a very long way to the next town of any size. Hopefully, I will find another Internet cafe sometime and keep in touch.

5/31/03, Bangkok, Thailand — I arrived here in Bangkok just after midnight last night and managed to get myself, the Holy Skinkmobile and all of my stuff from the airport to town at that late hour with no problems. This was actually easier than hauling everything through the London underground at rush hour.

I am now occupying the presidential suite at the fabulous Sawasdee Khao San inn in Bangkok’s exclusive Khao San Road. This is where the Pope stays when he comes to Thailand. The regal surroundings actually have more quaint old world charm than Pancho’s Motel.

I’ve started trying to get acclimated to the heat over here, and today I walked all the way from Khao San Road to Pat Pong Street. This took 4 hours and 8 water stops. I am now dehydrated and have blisters on my feet, but I am making a start at getting accustomed to this heat.

I still haven’t decided for sure just how far north from here I want to go before I start to peddle the Holy Skinkmobile south to Singapore. I will probably stick with my original plan and take a train from here to Cambodia in a few days, after I’ve done some more sightseeing here. I might also go a little farther and start somewhere in Laos.

Talk to ya later,

Bill

9/10/02, Amsterdam – I’m back in Holland again, and unfortunately will be leaving for England, then back home in a few days. Vacations are just too short, life is unfair.

I’ve been looking at boats again. I still don’t have any answers to the question of insurance, but I know who to get in touch with. When I came over here I was looking for the cheapest thing I could get and was planning to sell it at the end of the summer when I was finished touring the canals and rivers. I’m now thinking of buying a boat to use for four or five months of the year and storing it here in Europe while it’s not in use. I’ve been surprised at how affordable boats are on which a person could live somewhat comfortably for several months at a time. It looks like a fairly nice boat in the 8-10 meter range will cost between $10,000 and $20,000. It costs a little less than $100 per month to store when not in use.

I will be giving a lot of thought to buying one within the next year or so.

9/7/02, Barcelona – I just got back from a long walk around the harbor. I’m glad I went. I met some Dutch people who had just sailed here from Holland. They came through France, over rivers and canals, not the long way around. This is similar to what I wanted to do originally, before I ran into the snag with the insurance policy. I wasn’t planning to come as far south as the Mediterranean, though.

They also had a larger and more expensive boat than I had been thinking of, about 10 or 11 meters and 20,000 Euros, while I was planning on a 7 meter, 3,000 Euro boat. I had a nice, long talk with them, and most of my fears and insecurities about European boating are really nothing to worry about. I am now more convinced than ever that my idea to live over here in Europe on a boat for part of the year is really as good as it appears to be. A person can come here and live a fairly comfortable and certainly more interesting life for about the same, and possibly even less, money than he could live like a mushroom in the States. A couple of partners could buy a floating summer palace and stay here in Europe for less than they foolishly squander on frivolous things like their wives’ silly extravagances.

Talk to ya later,

Herr Kaptan Willem van der Battle

9/6/02, Barcelona—I arrived here in Barcelona Wednesday afternoon and will fly back to Holland on Sunday. The flight from here to Amsterdam is less than half the train or bus fare, and I don’t have any hassles with ticket sellers and obnoxious conductors about putting the Holy Skinkmobile on board.

I’m on my way to take the city bus tour and see some of the things I missed on my last trip here. Last time I spent a few days running around the various bicycle shops getting broken spokes replaced and looking for a luggage rack for the front of the bike, and didn’t really get as much sightseeing in as I should have.

I was fortunate enough to get a room at the world famous Casa de Huespedes de Terrassa, which is one of Barcelona’s most exclusive hotels. Not just anybody stays at places like this, and it’s only 300 meters from La Rambla, which is Europe’s most famous street. This place has even more old world charm than La Pension California in La Paz, and there is always a very interesting cast of characters loitering in the lobby. I get all this atmosphere and my own private bathroom for only 16 Euros a day.

On my return trip I want to do some more research into either getting a boat or a motorcycle for my next European vacation. I might even consider a car as a last resort. I’ve concluded that I am definitely too lazy to do this on a bicycle again.

8/29/02, Zaragoza, Spain—I’ve been on the north coast for the last week or so. I can see why they call this the Costa Verde. This is the only part of Spain I’ve seen that has a really green countryside. It looks more like Ireland than Spain—the only thing missing is the leprechauns.

I arrived here in Zaragoza last night after a lot of hassles with the bus and train connections. I’ll probably stay here for a couple of days and then head on to Barcelona before flying back to Holland. There are a few things I didn’t see in Barcelona on my last European bicycle ride that I want to see this time.

Traveling on trains and busses with a bicycle here in Spain is getting as bad as travel in France. On my last trip over here I only took trains and busses a few times when I had broken spokes, and I don’t recall having this many problems with obnoxious ticket sellers and conductors. You would think that a Catholic country like Spain would show more respect to a holy, sacred and sainted pilgrim who has sacrificed and suffered so much for Christianity, wouldn’t you? We should all pray for a plague of locusts to descend upon Spain and France and for all ticket sellers and conductors to get leprosy.

Talk to ya later,

Saint William

8/18/02, Toledo—I’m in Toledo now, and will probably head for Salamanca the day after tomorrow. This is another place that I really like (except for the hot weather).

I just finished with the tram tour of the city and the Alcazar museum. Toledo is another one of those places with a lot of the Middle Ages still intact, cobblestone streets about four feet wide where only pedestrian traffic is allowed. This morning they even re-enacted a part of the Spanish Inquisition in the Plaza Mayor and condemned four of those godless heathen protestant troublemakers. The actors really did a good job. It was a real disappointment when they didn’t burn the villains at the stake and I realized this was only a show for the tourists.

There are also a lot of really neat souvenir shops here, and Spanish Inquisition swords are at real bargain prices. I just might overcome my psychological barrier and spend some money. Those of you who have been so fortunate as to have seen my house realize that such a fine example of pre-Colombian tequila guzzling Mexican architecture really needs a couple of Spanish Inquisition-era swords to grace its hallowed walls.

I can bring a few swords back home taped to my bicycle frame easily enough. For the trip from here thru Madrid and Salamanca back to Santiago (where my bicycle is), I plan to buy a black hat, cape and black mask. Dressed like that and brandishing a couple of big swords, and maybe a battle ax too, the pickpockets are certain to leave me alone. Now that I think about it, dressed like that I might also get special consideration at the long line at the check-in counter at the airport.

I am already beginning to entertain fantasies about my next trip to Europe. There is still so much to see here! Next time, if I can’t find a way to do the European tour on a boat, I will buy a motorcycle, or as a last resort a car. I have concluded that I am just too damn lazy to do any more long distance bicycle rides over here.

My next European vacation probably won’t be until the year after next. It has been too long since I have been back to the Orient, where there are a lot of really different things to see. Maybe by next year things will have stabilized enough so that I can ride a motorcycle from India to Northern Europe. This was my plan before Sept 11.

Talk to ya later,

St. William the Moderate

8/14/02, Madrid—My first day here in Madrid has not been boring. I arrived here late last night, and the first thing I did this morning was go to the American Express office to get the rest of my travelers checks replaced.

I was on my way back to the hotel with a pocket full of new travelers checks, when I got pickpocketed. This time, I grabbed the two gypsy women and held onto them until someone called the police, who arrived promptly as soon as their siesta was over. It seems like I was holding on to those two (who were somewhat less than enthusiastic about hanging around the scene of the crime) and shouting for someone to call the police for hours, but in reality I think it was probably only about 10 minutes or so before the cops finally got there.

The bastards don’t ALWAYS get away with it.

Getting robbed twice would really have seriously fucked up my vacation!

At least now I have in my collection of souvenirs a copy of the police report describing how I heroically and courageously risked life and limb bringing two of Spain’s most notorious little old lady serial pickpockets to justice. I’m kind of proud of this, and plan to have it framed.

As soon as I leave the Internet cafe I think I’ll look for a Spanish military surplus store and buy a set of camouflage fatigues and the biggest combat knife I can find. Maybe if I looked like Rambo, instead of a dumb foreign tourist, shit like this wouldn’t happen so often.

I think I’ll stay here for a few more days to see some of the sights besides the police station, then go to Granada or Seville for awhile.

Talk to ya later,

St. William the Vigilante

August 11, 2002, Santiago de Compostela, Spain—I am beginning to feel almost rested now. It seems that for about the last week of my ride I was actually too tired and dehydrated to realize how tired I was. I slept for most of my first three days here, and my brain is just now beginning to awaken from the fugue. I am definitely not the most physically fit pilgrim ever to get on a bicycle!

I just found out something else interesting about this pilgrimage—this is also a holy land for the new age pagans. I don’t know what the story is with the pagans here, but this does explain why along the way I have been seeing all sorts of satanic and witchcraft looking charms and trinkets in the souvenir shops mixed in with the catholic stuff.

The good news of this is that my soul is now saved no matter who wins Armageddon.

Just think of it. If I play my cards right, I might even be able to achieve a respectable business profit by selling arms to both sides at Armageddon, and of course be morally justified while doing it. Not only that, but maybe I will be able to take my money with me, too.

Now that I am almost awake again, I am starting to think of where to go next. I’ll probably stay here in Spain for awhile, as this is one of the cheapest countries in Europe and I can almost speak the language. I am going to try to leave the Holy Skinkmobile here while I see some more of Spain on either a bus or train with nice soft wide seats, then return here to pick up the bike. Then I’ll get the holy born again saint’s discount flight to Barcelona, where I can catch a cheap, easy jet flight to either Amsterdam or London.

I would like to try to get some more information on buying a boat in Holland for a future trip before I leave Europe. Another thing is that if I take the ferry from Holland to England, I will only have to go a few km out of my way to pass through Canterbury. This way I could get two holy pilgrimages for the price of one.

Talk to ya later

St. William