backpacker – Courtney Lambert

backpacker, backpacking, Southeast Asia, Thailand, travel, Uncategorized

Why Do All the Backpackers in Southeast Asia Wear Elephant Pants?

March 20, 2017April 19, 2020 Courtney

It’s pretty easy to identify a Southeast Asia backpacker. Just look at their pants and ask yourself: 1) Are they flowy? 2) Are they embellished with elephants?

Elephant pants. A solid 99.9% of backpackers sport ‘em. You know you’re in Southeast Asia when a gaggle of gap year gals stride past, elephant pants of the rainbow illuminating their eager steps. That purple pair she’s got on is positively stellar, oh how it makes her brown skin glow! And, that chic wisely chose the blue; can’t go wrong with a classic navy.

Indeed, these harem-style trousers are a favorite among maidens and gentlemen alike. Men, I bet that soft, linen fabric offers the comfort and coverage your precious bits deserve. Ladies, pair your pants with a solid crop top, hit the town at night, listen to that Thai band covering Wonderwall and BOOM. How easy is it to drop it low in a pair of elephant pants? You’ll be the envy of every girl on the dance floor.

I lost my elephant pants v card on good ol’ Khao San Road, the beating heart of the elephant pants empire. Fly into Bangkok for the first time, all glossy eyed and rosy cheeked as you stare at the city sights and breathe in all those pungent city smells; the gentle smack of lips evaporating in the humid air as Thai men hang languidly from tuk tuks and murmur “ping pong show *Pop pop*.”

FullSizeRender 6 — Fabrizio Manese models “Cabernet ting tong” from the exclusive 2016 collection

The drab streets are splashed with the vibrant hues of elephant pants stacked like rainbow sprinkle hot cakes; thick mounds just begging to be rubbed against a face, to hug waists, tickle thighs and wedge between butt cracks. They are one of your first and most memorable purchases in SE Asia and with them, you’ll tread upon the banana pancake path invincible.

So what’s the deal with these pants? Why is everyone wearing them? Well amigos, it’s not just about the comfort or cheap price. The spiritual essence behind these mystical pants is profound.

If you take the leap and pull on a pair, you’ll instantly find yourself hurtling down an electric brain tunnel deep within your subconscious. You will transform into a Southeast Asia backpacker. You might even get a bamboo tattoo, don a man bun, or pierce your right nostril. Even after you return home, pulling on THE pants brings you back to exotic lands and fantastic adventures. With them, you can escape reality anytime, anywhere.

Can you hear the jovial chattering of the hostel common room? Do you smell the woody roast of the free instant coffee; feel the crumble of a crispy Laos baguette or hear the sizzle of those golden eyed eggs? It’s that final shot of Lao Lao and that frothy chug of Saigon; that one bus that broke down in the middle of nowhere or when you slept in the airport. It’s the steamy night with that person you met on the beach…you almost lost your elephant pants in the dark, but you crawled through the sand in desperation until you were reunited.

Ask any elephant pants extraordinaire and they will justify the magic. Did they save your legs during a sketchy motorbike spill? Did you meet the love of your life because you both connected over the fact that you were wearing the same pants? Maybe they warmed your extremities during a freak cold night in North Vietnam or you found your missing passport in the pants pocket. It’s not a coincidence that shit worked out. Those pants possess the blessings of ancient mammoths and the incorruptible spells of Asian warlocks threaded in every stitch.

They allow you to somewhat comfortably twist into any demanded position on an overnight sleeper, they check off the culturally conservative box when visiting temples, and those things hide dirt, sweat and swamp ass like a champ.

It becomes your inseparable security blankie, comforting you when wanderings get tough. The elephants are never grumpy, they always want to drink with you and they like the prickly feel of your unshaven legs. When you gotta spring up at 5am to catch that train in Myanmar, them elephants will be there, grinning at you, ready to conquer and destroy. They aren’t just pants. They are the ultimate wing-man and the best (and cheapest) travel buddy you will ever pick up on your journey through Southeast Asia.

adventure, backpacker, backpacking, Southeast Asia, Thailand, travel, Uncategorized

Khao Sok Trekking Wild and Untamed

February 29, 2016March 24, 2016 Courtney

When I came across Social Print Studio’s beautiful photo books and metal prints, it reminded me of a trip I took to Khao Sok National Park in Thailand last year. The pictures in this post represent some of my most cherished memories from my travels through Southeast Asia, especially when I escaped the city for the pristine jungles of Thailand.

“It’s a magic mushroom,” said Mr. Toi. There were two on the hard ground at the mouth of the cave. The brown skinned Thai guide split one into three sections and gave one piece to the other guide- a quiet, old Thai man, one to Cam- the Brit backpacker and the last piece to me. The other mushroom, he plopped into his mouth. We swallowed our pieces, he rolled a cigarette, and then we headed back into the wildlife sanctuary just North of Khao Sok National Park.

This was my last day in the park and our small group was on our final trek, following trails that Mr. Toi had developed himself since roaming the jungles of Khao Sok as a child.

We ducked beneath thick branches, passed towering trees and splashed through clear, cool streams. We could not stop moving, or else the leeches would get to us. Cam chose to trek in white chucks. The fabric sides were soon stained scarlet with blood from the sucking parasites that had managed to sneak into his socks and in between his toes where the skin was soft and warm.

10906261_10101145844370742_8041496821882655170_n — “It was remote and wild and flush with danger and unexpected twists, but we were ready for it; we were hungry for it.”- My favorite shot taken at the mouth of the jungle of Khao Sok in Jan. 2015

I slid into a low squat, arching my back, and in one deft movement slunk under a thick twisting vine. My breath was quick, but steady. I felt the shifting terrain below my feet and the moist humidity that lay trapped below the canopy of trees. Mr. Toi was ahead of me, dewy skin and a rag tied upon his head. He stopped and we all stopped. He looked and he listened. We all looked and we listened. It had become a regular part of our trip, an essential activity for understanding the jungle.

On my first day in the wildlife sanctuary of Khao Sok, Mr. Toi had taken me for an evening ride in his long tail boat. The water was glass as the sun set and turned the blue land indigo. The boat engine sputtered to silence. To me, we were just floating in the middle of a giant lake surrounded by massive limestone formations. I turned to say something, but he stopped me and taught me my first lesson.

“Ssh. If you listen, you can hear the jungle.”

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So, I listened.

The cushion of tree tops flowed unevenly over the landscape, a vibrant green spill that hid this obsidian water world. The deafening silence was just a blanket that shielded the active life within. I heard a soft flap and rustle of branches, and I turned quietly to witness a great horn bill take flight into the orange of a heat drunk sun. Twigs snapped and broke somewhere deep in the foliage; perhaps it was an endangered tapir snuffling about for snacks. The shrill whoops that sliced the silence was that of the gibbons, calling to each other from one part of the sweeping jungle to another.

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We did this often during our big trek, stopping to listen to the jungle, to hear what it had to tell us. There was an animal over there or the staunch stench of guano signaled a cave over here. The babbling stream followed us, a crystalline snake that we met every now and then to cool our feet, pull sticky leeches from our calves and to suck coca leaves for energy.

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It was tough work. We weren’t in the actual national park, so we did not see any other people. It was remote and wild and flush with danger and unexpected twists, but we were ready for it; we were hungry for it. The two days of our stay before the trek, Mr. Toi had been preparing Cam and I by letting us explore on our own and living how the people of Khao Sok live.

He taught us not to be afraid of the jungle.

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We lived in floating bamboo huts that rested upon the calm water with no connection to the land or city. Here, transportation is accomplished via boat, there is no internet, electricity is only available for a short time period by use of a generator, and bathing is done in the lake itself.

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The mornings began with a breakfast of fresh caught fish, rice and vegetables, then, swimming and exploring in kayaks. Cam went off with one of the old fishermen in his skinny boat, poles in hand. Later we tagged along to help set up fishing nets. As the moon and stars took over the black sky, the Thai fishermen, Mr. Toi, Cam and I sat on the bamboo rafts, legs folded. With tobacco stained teeth, the Thai men rolled one cigarette after another and passed around a bottle of rice whiskey. An old Thai woman sat quietly against the hut wall behind us. They could not understand our language nor we theirs, but we coexisted together and shared tipsy laughs late into the night.

And so, as our trek continued, we witnessed the entirety of the jungle with all of our senses. Every bug bite, scratch and droplet of sweat was a part of it. The sounds and the smells gave life to it. The abandonment of everything human and the acceptance of everything animalistic is what we morphed into.

We stumbled upon the skull of a bear in a cave. Mr. Toi said that it had come here to die, that it had been very large and old. The hard yellow bone was picked clean, the smooth angles and eye sockets intact. The jungle had allowed the bear to live a long, prosperous life and so, the bear had given its final breath to the jungle in return; had given its meat and organs to the others. The bear had fulfilled its duty to continue the circle of life and the jungle was pleased.

Its skull would not decompose into the soil. Instead, it would be brought back to the raft houses to be put on display. The great bear would not be forgotten; he would become a symbol of the sacred life in Khao Sok.

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adventure, backpacker, backpacking, Southeast Asia, Thailand, travel, travel memoir, Uncategorized

Chasing the Sun in Phu Chi Fa

November 17, 2015November 17, 2015 Courtney

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There is a quaint, quiet corner of northeast Thailand where the mountains rejoice at the awakening of the sun. They stretch with glistening green peaks past a creamy sea of clouds in sleepy greeting each and every morning.

My boyfriend, Joram, and I decided to rent motorbikes and head to Phu Chi Fa mountain and forest park located at the east edge of the Thoeng District, Chiang Rai Province, just bordering Laos. We embarked on the trip for one sole purpose: to witness Phu Chi Fa’s famed sunrise.

My phone blinks 5am and the clammy cold stings my skin, goosebumps prickling along the nape of my neck. It is still dark as we shiver together under a thick blanket and wait. When you are on top of the world, plans no longer matter, time stands still and you are simply humble. Engulfed in the freshest air of the land, where the poisonous creeping fingers of pollution fail to reach, and where giant black masses rise silently on all sides and the city lights of Laos are faint specks of stardust sucked into the loins of the earth below, you realize something. You realize just how small we as humans are on this fantastic planet, and that to think we have control of everything is pointless and unnecessary.

Despite the early morning chill, I suck in as much of the pure oxygen as I can muster. Up here, my allergies from the burning haze of Thailand have vanished. I feel cleansed as the sun begins its ascent, cutting gold and pink straits across the eastern heavens. I let the breath out steadily, and I am a child dancing in a candyland of strawberry milk streams, golden caramel coins and overflowing puffs and curls of lavender cotton candy.

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Witnessing the Phu Chi Fa sunrise is a travel delight that is out of the way for most backpackers, and it is a treat that is earned. She makes you work for it, but it is well worth the effort. By motorbike, the roads are for the most part smooth and free of potholes, until you start the final steep ascent to the actual park. If you are a lover of curves and flying down hillsides, then this ride is a dream come true. Let go of your inhibitions and soar as the crisp mountain air awakens and exhilarates your senses. Extraordinary views await you at every beck and bend.

It is all coffee plantations and rice terraces, green corn and cabbage fields and small mountain villages that will take you away from crowded, dirty cities. The people here live the simple life of a Thailand stuck in a past time. Naked children splash in giant buckets of cool water. Lazy mountain dogs with gleaming coats wallow in the road, lying just out of reach of dangerous wheels. The stares are shy and curious. The toothless smiles are friendly and genuine. For me, this is what Thailand is all about.

Getting started

The best time to visit is during the high season starting around November. One-way, the trip takes about 3-4 hours depending on speed and rest stops. Joram and I rented manual bikes in Chiang Rai. Prices range from 100- 200 baht per day, and I wouldn’t pay anymore than that. Once you start on the highway from Chiang Rai, the route is easy and enjoyable, taking you out of the congestion and into the pristine countryside. From the highway, you begin to climb into the mountains, steadily pushing up and then rolling down the never ending hills. What I liked most about the drive was the lack of traffic. There are no tourist buses careening around curves like madmen. It allows you to soak up everything the drive has to offer without being on edge or getting punched in the face by nasty plumes of exhaust smoke.

Gasoline

Fill up before you go, of course. Once in the mountains, there are no gas stations, but you can find old fashioned petrol pumps at random general stores in the villages. If you run into bike trouble, there are a couple of shops to be found. Joram experienced a flat tire at one point, but luckily the misfortune struck just a few meters from a lonely shack laden with rusted half-built motorbikes, old tires and mysterious scrap parts. The old Thai farmer fixed up the flat in a jiffy while we played with the the farm puppies and waited.

What to bring

It gets chilly in Phu Chi Fa. Bring a jacket, socks, pants and sturdy shoes for climbing.

Take it easy

If you are expecting reggae bars and late night backpacker parties, then you will be disappointed. It’s peaceful up here, in fact, we only saw one other small group of foreigners. The majority of visitors are Thai. The small stretch of shops next to the park consist of a handful of guesthouses, camping spots, a couple of restaurants, general stores and souvenir shops.

Joram and I arrived in the evening time and secured a camping spot nestled amongst coffee bushes brimming with pale red berries on a hillside terrace overlooking the mountains and valleys. It is easy to find camping spots since the village is so small. All equipment, bedding and individual fire pits are offered for 500 baht a night. There are showers and toilets available to campers as well. Eat cheap Thai food in town and warm up with some hot Jasmine tea, then sit by the fire and become hypnotized by millions of shimmering stars. It’s so dark and clear on top of Phu Chi Fa, that you can glimpse the wondrous Milky Way spilling over the edges of an indigo sky. To not speak, to not think and to instead just watch; you become part of the mountain and helpless to her wild whims. All of a sudden, a white fire comet streaks across a soundless horizon, illuminating the sky for a brief second, then leaving you to stare in awe while massive rust brown Hercules moths flit on paper wings, playing in their star-dappled darkness.

The sunrise

Set your alarm for 5:00 am the next morning for sunrise. When the time comes, hop on your bike and head up the park entrance road. It is steep and dark, so use every precaution. Don’t fret about navigation, you will see the signs and parking lot to leave your bike. Then, it’s another steep trek by foot up to the tippy top of Phu Chi Fa mountain. Grab a spot and wait for the sunrise to transform the land and your life.

The best way to begin your day….

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