Dhaka, Bangladesh, 05 February 1988 -- Shunan (Bengali "Hello"), Supposedly, there's some political violence going on in this country and in this capital city, but I've been around town a fair bit and haven't seen any signs of it.  Tomorrow, however, all businesses close and transportaion (except international flights) may come to a standstill fro another nationwide strike in an effort to get rid of the current President.

Bangladesh has a reputation for being the poorest of the poor countries in Asia, if not the world.  Actually, with all the aid that has been pouring in since they suffered war and economic crisis in 1971, the honor of poorest country now probably goes to Vietnam or Cambodia.  Still, every year, the monsoons come, the delta floods, and tens of thousands of people get washed away!  Those who survive try to rebuild their lives on the same plot of land (or not far away) and breed people faster than disaster can wipe them out.

Bangladesh is another one of those Islamic countries that is among the greatest violators of human rights.  In a major sense these countries are more repressive than other notorious examples such as South Africa, Israel, Chile, the Soviet Union, etc.  Islam essentially imprisons in their own homes half the population -- the female half.  My own conservative estimates put the male proportion of the population on the streets of Dhaka at 99 percent!  How is it that males alone could breed 100 million people amongst themselves, only male children?

Sleep here would be hopeless without a mosquito net.  The locals who have no mosquito nets deal with the bugs by creating a smoke filled environment that must cut the life expectancy of their own lungs in half.

Yesterday, my travel companion, John, from Vancouver, and I were mobbed by over-exhuberant village children who don't get to see Westerners very often.  All I can say is that after that experience, I'm very glad I'm not a rock-n-roll star or some other very famous person!

It was uncertain, but Bangladesh Biman, a notoriously unreliable airline which has yet to install computers, finally came through on my reservations in and out of Burma.  I would have been quite disappointed had they not, as Burma is a very special country, one of the least Westernized there is.  Travel there has some interesting rules which keeps the tourist population down.  The only way in and out of the country is by air to and from Rangoon.  There are no exceptions to the rule that foreigners can only stay one week.  You must have a flight booked going out of the country or they will not confirm any reservations for you going in.  You must exchange $100 U.S. when you first arrive at the Rangoon airport at a very poor official rate which makes the country very expensive compared to the rest of Asia.  Every time you buy something, take internal transportation and stay anywhere, it should be rocrded on a form, and the amount of money spent as indicated on the form should show that you've spent the entire $100 and any additional money that you officially exchanged.  Everybody on the plane comes equiped with a bottle of Johnny Walker Red Label and a carton of Marlboro that they purchased at the duty-free shop at the airport to sell in Burma on the black market for more Burmese currency than their $100 exchanged at the official rate buys them.  All tourists follow the same guidebook which means that, even though they are acting as individuals, they all go to approximately the same places and do the same things.  It's a rush to see all ther important sights in 7 days.  Everybody hurries from the airport to the train station to make reservations for the next day to go to the same city, and so on.  It sounds like a silly game, but it sounds like fun!  It's going to be a hectic week and I should be ready for a break by the time I fly out to Bangkok, Thailand.

I began this second year of travel on top of one continent (Kilimanjaro) and have ended it at the bottom (economically speaking) of another (Bangladesh).

Pagan, Burma, 10 February 1988 -- Minglaba (Burmese "Good Morning")!  It's my second year anniversary on the road, and I'm quite pleased and thankful to still be out here doing my thing.  It's been $15,000, 45 countries, a lot of luck and no regrets.  There's a lot of repetition, but still plenty of surprises.  Take Burma, for example.  They drive on the right side of the road, but their steering wheels are on the right instead of the left!  Their currency comes in denominations of 1s, 5s, 10s, 15s, 45s and 90s!  50s and 100s have been discontinued and soon will also be the 10s.  On trains you can consume your choice of frogs, grasshoppers or sparrows on a stick!  Contraband Coca Cola costs $7 a can!  People are eating at this outdoor restaurant within a few yards of a huge hog scavenging for food.  There continues to be plenty of laughs and enough inspiration to go on.

Happy leap year,
Peace and love,
U Thant

Pagan, Burma, 12 February 1988 -- Minglaba!  Burma has an abundance of spectacular sights to see, but the 7 day no exception visa restriction makes it impossible to see them all in one go.

In Asia, a caucasian often feels as if he is on parade when he walks down the street.  In fact, today, when there was an actual parade celebrating a national holiday, I felt as if I was attracting more attention than the parade was.  The Burmese people seem to me friendlier than most, and when many people flash a huge smile or wave to me, I feel obliged to do the same back to them.  Wherever I go, a crowd of Asians will quickly elevate me to superstar celebrity status with all the honor and responsibility that entails.  At times, it makes me feel very special, and at other times, it's a pain in the neck.  In the latter case, I may run and hide or find myself longing for the relative anonymity of my own country; but then, I may later miss all the attention paid to me here.

With regard to the smiles, it amazes me how much different one culture can be from another.  In China, people are generally sober faced.  In Burma, smiles could kill, particularly in my case the smiles of Burmese women.  Thailand, I hear is even more noted for this and is the self-proclaimed "land of smiles".

Bangkok, Thailand, 18 February 1988 -- Sawadee (Thai "Good morning)!  Bangkok has some beautiful tourist attractions, but it is likely equally known for being the Sin City of Asia, if not the world.  American soldiars during the Vietnam War came here for rest and relaxation, but probably didn't get much of either.  Walk down Patphong Street and especially if you are male you will soon be presented with a card that explicitly lists a variety of imaginable and unimaginable sexual acts that will be performed for you if you follow the person to their establishment.  In Thailand, if you're invited for a body message, it means the masseuse's body as much as yours.

The worst sin I committed the night I went to the red light district was to eat at an American fast food restaurant, A&W.  Actually, I'm not proud to admit that after nearly a week in Bangkok, I still haven't eaten any Thai food, which is silly because I often liked the Thai food I had in the States.  Yesterday, I ate at Pizza Hut, the other day at Kentucky Fried Chicken.  I haven't taken in McDonalds, Swenson's Ice Cream or Dunkin Donuts yet; but I did go to an excellent Thai restaurant that also served Mexican food ... and of course I didn't order Thai food when Mexican is my favorite.

Although third world scenes remain here, more so in rural areas, Thailand may soon be dropped off the U.S. government's list of countries receiving development aid.  It doesn't much need the aid anymore ... although Cambodian refugees do.  In most respects, at least in the city, this appears to be a first world economy.  Some places here are virtual photocopies of what you would see in affluent areas of America.  If there's some new idea or product that starts in New York, Los Angeles, Tokyo, Paris, etc., it probably arrives here first before it gets to Minneapolis.

There are several thousand backpacking Westerners in the budget hotel area where I'm staying, and probably tens of thousands more around the city.  Every night, each hotel restaurant plays a few movie videos, and everyone packs in to watch, eat and drink.  It's easy to forget what country you are in.  As far as I know, I could be back home at Schwietz's Bar on Payne Avenue (in St. Paul, Minesota).

Ice cold fresh milk -- that's what I've been longing for since I was at Gary's house in West Germany (9 months ago) -- although I had it briefly at Kevin Souba's house in New Delhi.  Here, I've been drinking Foremost brand by the quart.

I've been very lazy about sightseeing lately.  The heat and humidity is part of it.  Besides, it's entertaining enough to sit back, eat, drink and talk to other travelers.

Peace and love,
Mai Thai

Ko Samui Island, 28 February 1988 -- Sawadee (Thai "Good morning")!  Sometimes I think they should rename Thailand as Disneyland.  The beaches here on Ko Samui island are as peaceful as the pictures show, but not far away are the discos and the video bars packed with Westerners.  The financial whizes have already been here and taught the locals how to charge the maximum that the market will bear.  So, contrary to popular conception, Thailand is no longer cheap by Asian, if not Western standards.  I can still find a beachside bungalow with electricity, ants and mosquitos for $1.60 a night, but everything else, such as food and transport costs as much or more than it does in America!  After China, Nepal and India, prices here seem outragous, although I suppose you get what you pay for.  The quality of things here is often much better.

You asked if my Soviet friends are in any danger by my writing to them.  None have given me any blatent indication of that, although a Soviet Jew I met last year was very cautious about meeting me.  Mail getting through has seemed to be touch-and-go, and that is partially why Svetlana has elected to stop writing to me.  To her, it seems fruitless.  She has written to other Westerners with the same disappointing results.  There are about 10 Soviets to whom I have written, four of whom responded at least once.  Except for Svetlana, my mail seems to be getting through most of the time, although with some of Russians, since they never responded, I have no way of verifying if the mail reached them, or if they are merely lazy about responding.  I don't know if it is the fault of the Soviet mail system, a deliberate attempt to screen the mail, or improper addressing on my or their part (quite possible considering the difference between our alphabets).  I'm not sure what writing to Gorbachev will solve.  I suspect that there are already organizations in the U.S. and elsewhere who are better acquainted with the problems of communicating with the Soviet Union and know well the effectiveness or ineffectiveness of letter writing campaigns -- Amnesty International for example.  While this summer means Australia for me, I may again return to the Soviet Union on another workcap in the future.  The place and the people are a curiousity for me.

While at the Australian consulate in Bangkok to apply for my visa, I came upon an unusual coincidence.  In the main lobby, a man was giving a presentation on, of all things, computer based cartography.  He told me to submit a resume, and while he could offer no assurances, he said that they did occasionally hire foreigners on an "informal arrangement", that is, without a work permit to make it legal.  They have offices in Melbourne, where Mary (my romantic interest I met in Budapest)  lives.  While I don't expect anything to come of it, I will pursue it a bit further.
 
Peace and love,
Deano

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