TANKMAN TIANANMEN SQUARE

In a few days time we will remember the horrors that occurred on June 5, 1989 on and around Tiananmen Square. Here's a unique story about the famous and iconic tankman who stopped a battalion of tanks. although this scene has been written from a totally unexpected point of view. Enjoy.

A scene from COMRADES OF THE CUT SLEEVE by Veronique Renard 

TANKMAN

On the morning of Monday the 5th of June, I had a short briefing with my superior; the Tank Battalion Commander and his superior, the Tank Regiment Officer. My superiors’ plan was to have three battalions of 30 tanks each advance across Chang An Avenue towards Jianguomen Intersection, east of Tiananmen Square, in order to intimidate and diffuse demonstrators who were still hanging around in the area. In sharp contrast to what I experienced a day earlier, Tiananmen Square only had small pockets of demonstrators, but the square was under full control of the army.
There were several armoured personal carriers and tanks placed at strategic locations on the square itself and, after the previous nights’ bloodshed, the demonstrators kept a quiet demeanor while the authorities were ordered not to engage with civilians in a provocative manner. Deng Xiaoping and General Li Peng wanted the city and the country at large to calm down and return to normal as quickly as possible.
As the Tank Company Commander, I had the responsibility of commanding my own specially modified Type-59 variant commander tank, as well as nine other tanks in my unit that would follow me in my wake. My unit was part of a 30-tank battalion. I was ordered to spearhead the entire column of 90 tanks from our location at the intersection between the Forbidden City and Tiananmen Square to Jianguomen Intersection as swiftly as possible.
Chang An Avenue, the Avenue of Eternal Peace, cuts right through Beijing from west to east. Today it was free from civilian traffic, as police had closed off all major intersections. We were ordered to be cautious and alert during our mission, as there were still demonstrators and protest leaders hanging out on the sidewalks of Chang An Avenue. Out of precaution, we were ordered to sit inside the tank with the hatches closed. My superiors didn’t want to take any chances and avoid any causality in the regiment in case we were being attacked by Molotov cocktails. As the mission was executed during daytime, we didn’t have the advantage of moving under cover of darkness, however, the commanding presence of our tank column would hopefully scare the demonstrators away and make them go home. We were expected to reach our destination shortly past noon.
I was standing with my crew next to our tank. The machine gun near the hatch of the gun loader was covered by canvas. Sitting inside the tank with the hatches closed we wouldn’t be able to use it anyway. Hu and Bing, my driver and gunner, looked very tense while they smoked their cigarettes with trembling hands. Zunxin, my gun loader was only a young lad, barely 20 years old. The handsome boy looked scared. This didn’t surprise me. The previous day we had been attacked by demonstrators and one soldier of the crew of an armoured personnel carrier close to us had been beaten and killed whilst others were seriously wounded right in front of our eyes. The vehicle was set on fire. The rest of the crew was just able to save their own lives by abandoning the vehicle and run inside the Great Hall of the People, shooting in the air with hand weapons to clear their path to safety of insurgents. The demonstrators who attacked the armoured vehicle were shot by nearby troops. We fled the scene by driving over a barricade and a number of bodies, our vehicle engulfed in a blaze of fire.
I reassured my crew that everything would be alright today. I looked at my gun loader. “Don’t worry, Zunxin. You’ll be safe inside our tank. Nobody’s going to harm you, little brother.”
“I hope so, Comrade Chen.”
I smiled at him and gave a little peck on his cheek. “Soon we’ll be able to have a good hot shower and a nice bowl of chicken chowmein together.”
I glanced at the Battalion Commander who nodded at me before he separated from the Regiment Officer. My superior got into his own tank while the Regiment Officer got inside his commander vehicle. I ordered my driver, the gunner and gun loader to take their positions inside our tank that was numbered 102. I was the last one to get inside through the hatch at the rear end of the tank’s turret.
I checked our inner phone system that was connected to our earpieces and microphones on our protective helmets. Being the Company Commander, I was also linked to the radio, enabling me to communicate with the other nine tank commanders in my unit as well as my superior, the Tank Battalion Commander, who would follow us in tank 001 in the middle of the tank battalion. I checked my radio contact with him.
“Zero Zero One, do you read me?”
“One Zero Two, I read you loud and clearly,” was the response from the Battalion Commander.
“Zero Zero One, we’re okay to go,” I said.
“One Zero Two, copy that.”
“Driver, start the engine and get in position,” I ordered.
The driver started the engine and moved ahead of the battalion. I checked my view through my two long-distance periscopes. However, sitting inside the tank with the hatch closed, I only had very limited vision on the outside world. I couldn’t avoid feeling slightly closed in my confined space in the back of the tank. I found the miasma of closed air distasteful.
The driver swiftly rolled our tank down Chang An Avenue in the direction of Jianguomen Intersection. As expected, the entire regiment moved rapidly as we encountered no obstructions. I started to feel more relaxed. This would be an easy mission. Little did I know that within a few minutes my life would change forever.
Suddenly the driver stopped our tank.
“Driver, why has the tank stopped?” I asked.
“There is a man blocking our way.”
“What man? Is he armed?”
“He looks like a civilian holding something in each hand. Looks like a plastic shopping bag and his jacket. He’s gesturing something. It appears that he wants us to move away.”
I was shocked by what my driver related to me and baffled by the man’s audacity.
“Driver, steer pass the man,” I ordered.
I felt the tank swerve to the right, then to the left, back to the right and back again. It felt as if we were dancing. The driver stopped once again.
By now, I expected all the tanks in my company as well as the entire regiment of 90 tanks to have stopped behind me. The voice of my superior commander, who was sitting in a tank in the middle of the battalion, came on the radio.
“One Zero Two, why have you stopped?”
“Zero Zero One, civilian blocks my way,” I responded.
“One Zero Two, steer pass him.”
“Zero Zero One, copy. Driver, try again to steer pass the man,” I ordered.
“Commander, there is no way to get around him. He is standing right in front of our tank. There is no space for me to manoeuvre unless I back up. What should I do?”
I contemplated. One man with a plastic shopping bag stopping an entire tank regiment? I couldn’t help but feel some admiration for this brave fool.
“Driver, hold on for a moment,” I said. “Zero Zero One, the man keeps blocking my way.”
“One Zero Two, nobody is allowed to stop our advance.”
I thought for a moment and swallowed. I cleared my throat. “Zero Zero One, the man is standing right in front of our tank. Are you asking me to crush him?”
“One Zero Two, I repeat, nobody is allowed to stop our advance. Use any means necessary.”
Any means? I was shocked to receive the order to crush the man with our tank. Hadn’t we killed enough innocent people already? I contemplated for a few moments. Any means to advance…peacefully? Without killing one of our brothers and sisters for a change?
“All unit drivers; shut down your engines,” I ordered calmly. A few seconds later, everything around me turned eerily silent.
“Driver, what can you see?”
“The man is approaching. He’s only a few metres away from us. He’s coming closer. Now I can’t see him anymore. He’s out of my sight.”
“You can’t see him anymore?”
“He’s gone.”
I was puzzled.
The gunner looked through his window. “Commander, it appears that the man is climbing onto our tank right now. I can see one of his legs right in front of my window.”
I was shocked. “Crew, check your periscopes and windows to see what’s going on.”
“Commander, the man is right above me,” the gun loader said. “It looks as if he’s shouting at me and he’s banging on the turret. He’s looking at me through my hatch window.”
“Gun loader, is he armed?”
“Difficult to tell. I think he’s just an emotional Pekinese fool who’s fed up with us.”
I contemplated and took a deep breath. “Gun loader; thank you for your psychological analysis. If you’re such a great shrink, then open your hatch and talk to that joker. Tell him to get off my tank.”
“Commander, I should open my hatch and talk to him? Is that what you just said?”
“Gun loader, I repeat, open your hatch and tell him to get off my tank!”
The gun loader opened his hatch and stuck his head out. I could hear the man shouting. “Get out of my city!”
“Please, get off our tank,” the gun loader pleaded, but the man refused to do so.
“Gun loader, get back inside and close your hatch,” I ordered. I suddenly realised I had made a mistake. I shouldn’t have put one of my crew into any danger. How could I have ordered Zunxin to put his life in danger once again? Zunxin was his mother’s only child. The boy’s father had died when he was only a schoolboy. I liked Zunxin better than I liked myself.
I opened my hatch and stood up. I looked over the hatch and saw the man getting off the turret and jumping off the tank. I sighed with relief and closed my hatch again. I suddenly realised I just made another mistake. I shouldn’t have put myself into any danger. Better one dead gun loader than a dead Tank Company Commander who has the responsibility of spearheading an entire regiment.
“Okay, he’s off. Driver, start the engine and advance. All unit drivers, start your engines, we’re ready to advance.”
I barely noticed that I was sweating like a pig. The driver started the engine. He tried to move as quickly as possible, but suddenly the driver stopped the tank again. I was jolted forward.
“Commander, he’s in front of the tank again.”
I was baffled and felt frustrated. It was obvious that guy was determined to stick to his plan. There was no other option but to disable him. I bit my lip.
“Driver, shut down the engine. Unit drivers, shut down your engines.”
I looked at Zunxin and Bing. Should I ask one of them to take a hand weapon and shoot the man?
“Gun loader, get me a hand weapon.”
I opened my hatch and stuck my head out. I saw the man standing a few metres in front of our tank.
“Hey, brother!” I shouted. “What are you doing? Do you want to get killed? Get out of here!”
“One Zero Two, why aren’t you moving?” my superior asked.
“Zero Zero One, I…one moment. We’ll be on our way in a moment.”
“One Zero Two, don’t tell me that one guy is going to hold up our entire regiment. I order you to advance. Now!”
“Zero Zero One, copy.”
I looked at the man. “Go away! Please! Please, go away, brother! I don’t want to kill you! Go away!” I shouted.
“Get out of my city, you’re not wanted here!” the brave man shouted back at me. My gut instinct told me that he was just a frustrated student and that there were no weapons in his plastic bag. Nevertheless, I made sure that my torso was protected by the hatch. With my eyes just peering over the hatch, I stared at this lone student who was holding on to his plastic shopping bag and jacket and ordering us to leave his city. I heard a roar of excited voices and applause coming from hundreds of onlookers that were standing on the sidewalks. I feared being attacked by Molotov cocktails. The onlookers cheered and clapped and were obviously impressed by this student’s bravery.
The young man refused to give in to my pleading. I begged him to get out of my way but to no avail. I looked at a few bystanders who had their eyes directed at me. They started applauding me. I guess they did so for my decision not to kill one of their fellow demonstrators.
“One Zero Two, why aren’t you moving? I order you to advance!” sounded the commanding voice of my superior through the radio, this time even more forceful. I didn’t respond.
“One Zero Two, why aren’t you responding? Let me tell you that the Regiment Officer and I are getting very frustrated with you. I order you to advance! Now!”
I took a deep breath and finally said, “Zero Zero One, copy that.”
Suddenly, a man on a bicycle approached the student. “Hey, don’t be a fool, get out of here. What are you doing, you stupid man! Do you want to get killed?”
At this moment, it appeared to me that the man relented. Three more men appeared from the left, one holding both his hands above his head to show me that he was unarmed. They all appeared to me to be ordinary but concerned bystanders. One of the men had taken off his white shirt and waved it at me. The men grabbed hold of the student and quickly hustled him away from the tank.
At the same time, another man appeared, waving at the student and yelling; “Go away! What are you doing? Do you want to die?” The man on the bicycle raised his arm and waved at me, gesturing that everything was okay now. Perhaps he thanked me for being patient. They all disappeared into the crowd on the sidewalk. Hundreds of bystanders applauded. I wasn’t sure whether they were applauding the student or me, or both. I went back inside the tank and closed the hatch.
“To all drivers, start your engines and advance,” I ordered while my voice broke.
I felt a shiver run down my spine followed by a sensation of great relief. I slowly inhaled deeply and exhaled equally slowly. The tank started moving. Thinking about our upcoming debriefing I would explain my motivation not to crush the man and I would certainly be appreciated by my superiors for my smart strategy.
“One Zero Two, what takes you so long to advance! Why are you ignoring my orders!”
“Zero Zero One, I am following your orders. Everything is okay. The man is gone. We’re moving.”
“One Zero Two. Commander, you are in big trouble, Chen Ming. Again! This is going to have serious, I repeat, serious consequences for you! Over.”
That moment I realised that I had made a huge mistake. My body started trembling uncontrollably. Today I saved a brave man’s life but I myself might be executed tomorrow. I cleared my throat and swallowed. “Zero Zero One, copy that.”
I gazed into nothingness while the column advanced to our destination.

Signing new book-deal with PD Publishing USA

I am pleased to announce that I signed with PD Publishing USA to publish a second edition of my 2007 memoir PHOLOMOLO - No Man No Woman. The new edition is expected to be published in March 2011.

Here is a link to a video of me signing the contract
http://www.youtube.com/user/taubangkok#p/a/u/0/e71hnX8j_Q4
Here is a link to PD Publishing's website
http://www.pdpublishing.com/

Kingdom of Kikiyaya

This is a strange story. Three years ago, I moved from the Himalayas to Bangkok. I had lived in the mountains for nearly 7 years and was to embark upon a new journey. Part of that journey was to carry out research for a new novel that I wanted to write. As a working title, I chose “God of All Things Queer”, which I later changed into “Comrades of the Cut Sleeve”. After a few months of carrying out research in Bangkok, I thought I was ready to start writing my new fiction novel, but I couldn’t. I was surprised. Was this state of being called writer’s block? I decided to claim that I needed to do a little more research. Well, I have been “researching” my arse off. I must say, my initial plot changed over time and I realised I needed this time to get the plot right. I needed to meet people, experience a few more experiences until I was content with my new ideas for the plot. Though I haven’t been writing on the book every day, it has been my day job for the past three years, which mostly translates into “thinking about it”. I am confident that within the next year or so, there will be a new novel. I have written a number of chapters already,

In between writing chapters, I often feel this writer’s block getting to me. This is an unfamiliar feeling really, as I wrote each of my previous books within a timeframe of a few months. I am not alone in this. If you Google Writer’s block, you get more than 17 million hits.

So one day, when I had a “in between chapters writer’s block”, I decided to pick up my laptop and start writing something, anything. I was watching America’s Top Model on TV and there were two models. One was called Kiki, and another one Yaya. I created a story about an imaginary kingdom and called it the Kingdom of Kikiyaya. It took me two hours to create the document. Whenever I feel I am having a writer’s block I think of Kikiyaya. I think: “If I am able to create a kingdom, I can create a novel.”

Here’s the link to the kingdom of Kikiyaya. www.kikiyayakingdom.blogspot.com or click view profile.

MUMU ART GALLERY PARTY

Hao discovers an uninvited guest.

Calendar girl. Who would have guessed I would appear in a calendar at my age.

Cameron thanking the guests.

Our friend Apinun giving a traditional Thai dance performance.

Our friends Santi and Gino, posing very well at the gallery.

Cameron and Hao

Above: our friend Champagne who passed away just an hour before the opening of the show.

Hao and I posing in front of a series of photos of me, taken by Cameron

Who would have guessed I would be hanging naked in Bangkok.
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On Saturday night, my dear friends Cameron and Dale organized an event to draw attention and raise funds for their HIV/AIDS education campaign in Bangkok. Apart from Cameron’s work in Asia regarding HIV/AIDS prevention, he has a great love for photography. Some time ago, he photographed some of his friends for a photo exhibition. I feel flattered that my photographs are on display at MUMU Art House in Bangkok. One photo even appears in a recently released calendar.

I was accompanied by my dear friend Hao and we were delighted by the art show the boys had organized. Here are some photos of the event.

Unfortunately, we received news that our dear friend Champagne had just passed away half an hour before the start of Saturday’s show. I got to know Champagne shortly after I arrived in Bangkok in 2006. She was a female impersonator in her early twenties, known for her impeccable impersonations of Whitney Houston and Beyonce on the stages of various clubs in Bangkok. A month ago, Champagne fell ill with TB. Bangkok will miss her.

CERTAIN EMAILS THAT MAKE ME HAPPY

Receiving certain emails also tend to make me happy.

THE WAY TO HAPPINESS (continued)

Try to spot the two happy people (both female)

I often ask people whether they are happy. Not many people come up with the answer “Yes, I am.”

For 9 years, I have been studying what (internal and external) factors make people happy and how to get to that state of being. Happiness is really a western concept. Buddhists rather talk about contentment or better Enlightenment.

Enlightenment is a state of being when one understand that life is all about suffering and that it is better to overcome that suffering by cultivating ones mind in such a manner that external factors don’t bother you anymore.

Gandhi once said that extreme poverty and extreme wealth do not bring happiness. The Dalai Lama always talks about The Middle Way. Let’s elaborate about this for a minute.

When I was 24, I dreamed of owning my own condominium. I got my first mortgage at 25. It was a very nice three-room penthouse condominium with a river view. The first six months I was very happy, until I realized I would be happier if the bathroom was remodeled into something with black and white marble and a Japanese toilet. One month later I sat down on my Japanese toilet looking at the black and white marble and was very happy. This state of being lasted until I desired full automatic taps on both bath and sink. A year later, I made friends with someone who had a waterbed. A month later, I had my own waterbed and I was very happy. I thought the kitchen would look better without one wall, so I had it knocked down. It looked better, but suddenly the wall-to-wall carpet didn’t look good anymore. So I borrowed some money to have the entire condo fitted with parquet floors. Suddenly my furniture didn’t match that fancy floor and I bought new furniture and decided not to have a holiday for 4 years (as I couldn’t afford both). For the next 9 years, I never tended to be satisfied.

The building didn’t have an indoor parking garage and my two cars would always be parked outside. I was the proud owner of a 1954 Citroen Traction Avant and a 1982 Matra Murea sports car (a collector’s item that looks like a Ferrari). It cost me a fortune and I needed to work very hard to pay for all my material possessions and I skipped a few more trips abroad.

In 1999, a number of external and (lack of health) factors caused me to slide into a deep depression. In February 2000, I visited the hometown of the Dalai Lama in the Indian Himalayas and quickly learned that once you get something, you start dreaming about something better and bigger and there’s never an end in sight. So forget about material possessions. I sold everything I had or gave it away. I remained in India and lived a life similar to that of an average Tibetan refugee. Same type of room, same amount of material possessions (next to nothing), however, I allowed myself to buy a jeep. It occurred to me that travelling through the Himalayas for a number of years would generate a lot of exciting experiences. I was right. I had the jeep for 7 years and it was a lot of fun.

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I asked a poor Indian boy what would make him happy. He didn’t say: “I wish I had my own private jet plane, or a jeep.” Instead he said: “I am very thirsty, I wish I had some water to drink.”

So I gave him a glass of water. I refilled the glass a few times until he smiled and thanked me.

I asked a backpacker what would make him happy. He was drinking hot-lemon-ginger-honey in a Tibetan café. He didn’t say that he wanted a glass of water or a jet plane, no, he said he wanted to learn how to become a yoga teacher, as he hated his office job. I sent him to VJ further down the street (a very skilled yoga instructor.)

Over the years, I asked many people what they thought would make them happy, and I received many different answers.

I wish I were free from cancer.

I wish I could divorce my rich husband who beats me.

I wish I had a husband.

I wish I had a wife.

I wish I could walk.

I wish I had a car.

I wish I had more money.

I wish I didn’t worry so much about getting more money.

I wish I had a wheel chair for my mother.

I wish I knew the answer to how to get happy.

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I sent the last one to my Tibetan lama. I then asked my lama: what would make you happy?

“I am already happy,” was the answer.

So I asked him: “what is it that makes you happy?”

The lama answered, “A roof over my head, water to drink, food in my stomach and teaching unhappy people how to find enlightenment.”

Good answer.

Being satisfied with basic things such as water, food and a roof over your head, whether it be made of corrugated iron or slate, are good basics things, as without those basic things life would be a bitch. However, helping other people is something that does make you feel very good, especially when your help is being appreciated.

The lama lived in a small room that only had a single mattress on the floor. He owned some books, a poster on the wall depicting the Buddha, a few photos of the Dalai Lama and the monk robe he wore. A student of the lama gave him a mobile phone when Dharamsala got its mobile phone system in 2002. He had nobody to call so he gave the phone away.

Everything he owned fitted in a backpack. That is how I got the idea that I shouldn’t have more possessions than what would fit in a backpack. Today I still do not own more that 20 kg of personal possessions.

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More recently, in Thailand, I asked a few people about what they thought would make them happy. A tourist from Qatar desired a bigger plane and his palace full of Dutch masterpieces. He had people bidding on paintings at every auction in Europe and the USA.

I asked a young Thai male prostitute what would make him happy. He said he didn’t have enough clients to make ends meet. He would stand on a stage in his underwear in a gogo bar but the other boys had bigger penises and better looks. Low season in Thailand is very low this year and there aren’t enough old, fat, ugly men travelling to Thailand to take boys and girls off girly and boy bars, especially not when there are better looking girls and boys for rent. But really, would the boy be happy by having more sex with old, fat, ugly clients?

“So if you would have 3 clients a night and earn 3000 baht, would that make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like what you do?”

“No. I am straight. I don’t like to masturbate on a stage or have sex with men but I have no education and my family needs the money. I can’t get a regular job as nobody wants to hire me. I can’t read or write and I have no other skills than what I do now. We’re hungry at home.”

He was very skinny indeed.

So the boy actually didn’t desire more clients, he desired food in his stomach and the stomachs of his family. He didn’t ask for a jet plane or a jeep, just food.

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I was wondering why my book Pantau in India became a best-seller in Holland and a failure in the USA. I realised I describe a road to happiness in that book that is opposite of the American Dream. Poor people who get a break and make it big is what Americans dream about. They admire such people. My book describes the story of a rich girl who gives everything up to live in a box in India. In Holland, people appreciated the story, applauded the change the girl made and the author was put on radio and television and appeared in newspapers and magazines until every Dutch person knew about Pantau in India.

I received many letters from readers. Two office workers with big jobs gave up their lives in Holland to start an orangutan sanctuary in Indonesia. A suicidal Japanese boy left Dharamsala after 6 months to start a yoga and meditation school in Tokyo. He’s doing fine. Thousands of Dutch and Belgium people started thinking about their lives and many of them made a change in one way or another. Some even moved abroad.

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Compared to Americans, Dutch people aren’t materialistic. They look down on people who stand out, who make it big, as they prefer all Dutch people to “be normal”. They have proverbs about how bad it is to stand out, to be rich, famous or whatever. There are entire villages with rich people that are frowned upon. The best Dutch people are happy with small houses with neat little gardens, a few bicycles and a bunch or real friends and six weeks of holidays a year. Most don’t seek more. Yet life can always be better, right?

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According to many studies the Dutch and Danes are the happiest people in the world. I would add the Bhutanese people to that list. They even have a Ministry of Happiness in Bhutan. The Dutch do complain a lot though, especially about the congested country that is the size of Bangkok and the bad weather, but give them a heat wave and they start complaining about the sun and the heat. If I have something to complain about my people, I would say they should stop complaining and be happy and grateful with what they have. I always think (go and live in India in a box and then tell me your lives aren’t good!).

Happiness is a state of mind. It’s about how one perceive things. Obviously, accumulating material possessions is not the road to happiness. Americans rank very low on the happiness chart.

I know a bunch of rich, famous American people who are terribly unhappy and end up in rehab on a regular basis, or just die before their age. Americans tend to focus on the things they don’t have rather than appreciating the things they have. Go to India with a backpack for 6 months, return to America and you’ll appreciate running water from your tab and you’ll stop thinking about having a bigger car, bigger house or bigger job.

Moderation is a good ingredient to gain a state of contentment. Be grateful with what you have. Be grateful that you don’t need to earn your money by standing on a stage masturbating and then intercourse old fat ugly pigs and pretend that you like it.

If one cultivates ones mind and learn how to overcome their suffering they are on the road to enlightenment. Learn how to appreciate the things you have, because one day, you won’t have anything left, not even your life. If you can walk, be grateful that you can. If you don’t have cancer or any other disease, be grateful that you’re healthy. If you’re obese, do something about it! Eat healthy and exercise. If you have a car, be grateful that you have a car and stop thinking about that flashier car. I would even suggest to consider giving up on most material things, as the more you have, the more you need to worry about.

EXPEDITION TO BRAMAUR

Preparing the jeep for a big trip.
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In April 2005 my Japanese friend Hiroshi and I decided to go on a little trip in my jeep. For years I wondered what was right behind the peaks of the Dhauladar Mountain range, north of the village of Dharamsala, the hometown of the Dalai Lama. I could see the peaks from my little window every day, but what was right beyond those majestic 18,000 ft mountains? So I looked it up and learned there was a valley called Chamba and a small hamlet called Bramaur. Though only a few kilometers and minutes away the way the crow flies, by motorable road it would take a little more to get to Bramaur. The nearest pass was north-west of Dharamsala, near Dalhousie, a small hill town, about a five hour-drive away from Dharamsala. So Hiroshi and I took off and drove to Dalhousie at an altitude of about 10,000 ft. As there was no sound system in the jeep, we talked or sung songs. We stayed in Dalhousie for a few days before we descended into the Chamba Valley to pay a visit to the valley’s capital; Chamba Village. We continued by touring one of the worst roads I had ever encountered in the Himalayas. Weather changed and torrential rain caused landslides that would block the road. On our way to Bramaur we had to stop and wait for 6 hours total for rock and dirt moving vehicles to unblock the road at 4 different locations. We finally reached the vicinity of Bramaur in the evening. We noticed a lovely little village in the far distance, perched against the north side of the Dhauladar… and there was light.

'They have electricity!' I said delighted. I saw images of Hiroshi and I already sitting in the restaurant of a lovely guesthouse, eating wonderful Chamba-food after which we would have a wonderful hot shower and a good sleep in a warm bed.

Only minutes away from the village the main electricity cable broke, almost hitting the roof of the jeep, and all the village lights went out. There was no such thing as a guesthouse or restaurant in the village and we could only find one home with people. The entire village appeared to be deserted. We begged for food and drink, and though the people were hospitable they apologized, as they could only offer us some dry chapattis. There wasn’t even a bowl of rice. The gas cylinder that was attached to the stove was empty so they could only offer us a glass of cold water. They told us there were no rooms for rent in the village; however, we could park the jeep on the helicopter platform and sleep in the vehicle. Bramaur was so remote, they had their own helicopter platform. It was a trip to hell, but for some reason, those trips always result in lovely pictures and great memories. That night I had a dream. For your information; I considered Hiroshi a very beautiful young man, but I didn’t like it when he wore his glasses. I preferred him to use his contact lenses. The next day, when we had a little break atop a mountain pass, Hiroshi got up. He suffered from a lack of oxygen. He felt dizzy, stumbled and knocked his face against the fender of the jeep, smashing his glasses. He hadn’t hurt his face, there were no cuts or anything. just his glasses were into pieces. To be able to see something, he needed to put in his contact lenses.

Hiroshi eating Tibetan thukpa before taking off.

Indians don't have dogs as pets, but cattle.

One of the Dhauladar passes is famous for taking sheep across the mountains from the Kangra Valley to the Chamba Valley.

Snow covered peaks of the Dhauladar Range. Behind those peaks is the hamlet of Bramaur, a three day journey from this location.

Couldn't help it, but I found this young man very photogenic.

Somewhere in the Chamba Valley

An Alpine meadow atop a mountain.

He was a rather tall guy for a Japanese as the jeep is rather high and yet he manage to be taller than the roof.

Waiting for the workers to clear the road from a snow slide.

An entirely deserted village covered by snow.

Dalhousie area.

Time for a snow ball fight.

Beautiful mountain paddies, in this area for wheat and barley growing.

The Chamba Valley with the 18,000 ft Pir Panjal Range on the horizon.

A farm somewhere in the Chamba Valley.

Hiroshi at his best (without glasses).

WRITERS ARE BORING PEOPLE

Driving my jeep through snow covered mountains toward the remote village of Braumaur in the Chamba Valley (Indian Himalayas)
Those were exciting experiences.
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I received an email from a friend in Bangkok. He told me he was highly disappointed in my recent posts as they were so shallow.

“You used to write exciting stories about the mysteries of the universe, how to heal people, about coincidental meetings, about amazing trips in the Himalayas. Now you post videos about your clock? What are you trying to develop into: a cyber exhibitionist? You’re posting videos that show that you have a bunch of condoms laying around in your so called office! What are you trying to do? Advertise safe sex? What’s wrong with you?”

“Errrrrr.”

Sorry. I ran a little dry on exciting stories. Writers are very boring people who sit at home behind a computer most of the time, creating characters that are far more interesting than they are, experiencing things they can only dream of. There was a time (7 years in India) when I could produce a new epic novel a year. The most exciting thing that happened to me this week was when I was walking in a shopping street and stepped on what felt like a Coca cola bottle. I produced one more step forward, looked behind me to see what I had just stepped on, and saw a big brown rat limping away, looking at me with an expression of pain and “you bitch!” on his face.

Apart from that exciting moment, I have been trying to improve my skills as a wanna-be digirati. Yesterday, an elderly friend of mine and I agreed in the cafe that we need to keep up with modern technology. I want to be able to fix my computer myself, figure out how I can get rid of viruses, how to resize 8 MB photos to 50 KB photos so they are easily uploadable on the Facebook, Blogger or as email attachments. I want to be able to do what kids do with their computer. I want to be able to speak and see moving faces of loved ones on the other side of the world. Yesterday I learned how to upload a few videos on youtube. Not because it matters, but because I want to say: I can! So I uploaded 4 videos on youtube that probably nobody is interested in, but I just wanted to know if I could. And I could.

To conclude this post, I must admit that travellers experience a lot and I feel I am no longer a traveller. Though I had homes in India and wasn’t a traveller all the time, I travelled a lot in the Himalayas in my jeep which gave me ample experiences and encounters to write about. I am already looking forward to spending three months in India next spring. I expect a lot of posts and videos with exciting material. So hang in there, my dear reader; I am working on getting a more interesting life. For this year I have a few trips planned. I intend to go to Laos, as well as to my favourite Thai town called Prachuapkhirikhan. I also feel the need to travel all the way to Surat Thani in the south, just to visit the night market, which is the best in Thailand.
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Below I show you how I just learned to paste two clips together with Windows Movie Maker. Wow. This short video shows my 1 sq foot Japanese garden and my bowl with lotus flowers.

PRAY, DRINK, EAT, LOVE, SLEEP

Our "kitchen". We only have a microwave oven to boil water or warm up food. We don't have a sink or stove. We wash our few dishes in the shower.

We pray first for the fishes rebirth before we eat it.
Health, healthy, healthy.

Eating on/off the floor like most Thais.

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After a day on Dongtan Beach we walked home and got ourselves some food from the evening market. As most Thais don’t have a kitchen, including us, we/they tend to get out and pick up some food from any (night) market. In Thailand you can always find cheep ready made food within walking distance from wherever you live. Cooking at home is actually more expensive. Only the rich have kitchens and eat at home.

Every street has little eateries where you can sit down on a plastic chair at a foldable table with complementary free water with ice cubes, or you can buy food from stalls where they grill anything for you, from crunchy cockroaches to squid, chicken, pork, duck, and take it home. The Thais eat many times a day and portions are small. Also, they eat a lot of raw materials. I think all these things combined keep the Thais slim and healthy. Fat Thais get that way because they may drink to much beer or Thai “whiskey”. Most Thais are alcoholics. Oy.

In my home, there is only water for drinking. Milk is ridiculously expensive and we can’t afford it. We get the water from a reverse osmosis water machine that you can find in every street. You put a jerry can in it, put 1 baht per litre into the machine and press a button.
We boycott the Coca Cola Company, Pepsico, and Nestle thus we do not buy their bottled water, nor a coke, Pepsi, Fanta etcetera. We do so because those companies cause much trouble for the environment and local communities, whilst drinking soft drinks are just not very healthy for your teeth and the rest of your body. Also, bottled water often contains more toxins than regular tap water or water that has been filtered by machines, not to speak of the insanity of drinking 40 baht tap water from plastic bottles: what’s next, breathing city air from containers provided by those companies?

When we eat, we use our hands or chopsticks, depending on what we eat. Today we got a local fish, mussels, noodles and a variety of raw vegetables and herbs and two types of fruit (chompoe and melon). We need to get everything fresh every day, as we don’t have a fridge. The way we eat this stuff is buy getting a piece of lettuce, put some noodles on it, a bit of fish, herbs and other veggies and wrap it up in a bundle and stick it in our mouth. We normally use old newspapers as a table/floor cloths but we forgot the steal the old newspapers of our neighbour. All the food costs no more than the equivalent of 2 US Dollars. Tomorrow I will try to take a photo of the water machine in our street. As I have lived in India and now in Thailand, water is our number one priority in our lives and I have a few more things to say about drinking water.

CHINESE FABULOSITY

Tibetan artists are known for their intricate Thangkha paintings, often depicting images of the Buddha, the monks are known to make beautiful mandalas out of coloured sand, depicting the universe (and destroying them upon finishing), but today I came across some Chinese fabulosity in the form of a crystal hollow sphere which inside was painted through a hole and depicting an entire Chinese village. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my good camera with me to zoom in onto the details, but I will soon do so.

I was visiting some new friends in a neighbouring building and they had been to Beijing. They had picked up so many beautiful artifacts that were now on display in their fancy cabinet that I spent an hour observing in awe. The crystal sphere was phenomenal. Imagine a painter with a one-hair paintbrush painting an entire village through a little hole inside a ball. Those Chinese folks keep surprising me. I had never seen such a piece of art ever before. I do not feel the need to learn how to paint Bangkok inside a glass ball; for now, I’ll keep it simple and paint bamboo and fish. Perhaps it’s time for some koi tomorrow.

My dear teacher Haiying Yang in the USA has been very nice and told me she would send a package to me with a proper paintbrush and rice paper. I guess it must hurt her feelings if she sees me trying to make something beautiful with Hello Kitty nylon kid brushes. Meanwhile I have sent the request out to some Chinese friends in Hong Kong to buy me some materials as well and bring them with them when they visit me in Thailand some time in the future. I can only dream of getting my hands on real Chinese ink, a real ink stone and perhaps a hand carved seal. My seal is just a plastic stamp that I had made by a Thai at the shopping mall down the street. Nothing noble about that. I guess all those Chinese folks must travel to China now and then and buy everything they need in their own country. I wish I could travel there too some time, but I am still blacklisted by the Chinese Government, my books are banned, and my websites, even this weblog, are still blocked by the Internet Security Police. I guess posting photos of bamboo paintings are considered a threat to China’s national security!

I made a photo of my working material. Weep when you see this. I also made a photo of the Thai cushion I sit on when I work. We don’t have furniture in the house, so we all sit on the floor when eating or watching TV, or we lay on our mattress for sleeping and other activities. We are indeed very simple, poor people haha.

As all the cafés are closed for two days (Buddhist holiday), I wasn’t able to get drunk tonight. I was forced to stay home and make some more paintings. Tomorrow koi and the day after I really need to lay in bed with my laptop and start writing the next chapter of my novel. I am a very lazy writer these days. Thank the Buddha I am in between publishers and I do not have a deadline, but it's not very helpful to get literarily active.

On the left a 89 baht plastic paintbrush made in Korea with nylon hair but it has a nice fine tip. Plastic stamps from the local shopping mall and a bottle of black 90 baht ecoline Made in Holland from the Chinese supermarket and a 60 baht kitchen plate from Carrefour as my pallet. The plastic beaker is a 10 baht thing from Carrefour as well. The paper is watercolour paper Made in Holland. Those Dutchistanis must ship containers full of their paint materials all over the world.

O, by the way, I got rid of my natural Barbra Streisand finger nails with French manicure as I was unable to type on my computer lately.

My Thai cushion. 500 baht from Carrefour, but they tend to last for generations.