On Purchasing Art in the Far East

by Justin Nedd

Justin Nedd is an art enthusiast, student of Muay Thai, Globe Trotter and contributing writer to laughingtraveller. In the following blog post Justin gives a brief and contrasting insight into the valuing of art and its production between east and west.

As I arrived in Chaing Mai, Thailand to embark on learning Muay Thai from the best, I could not help myself being impressed by the courtesy, discipline, dedication, and artistic disposition of the city’s people. Chaing Mai, located in Northern Thailand is renowned for the awesome night bazaars, diversity of tourist attractions, painful massages, silk factories, as well as gruelling Muay Thai sessions which start with a 3 mile run and is a stark contrast from the hustle of Bangkok.


For 5 days, training started promptly at 6am and the trainer had no regard for my previous night’s foray. He arrived to pick me up in his tuk-tuk at 5:30 every day. Though the sessions were grueling, I took delight in hitting the 5’6”, 45 year old frame of my trainer who showed the scars of battles past. The payback was unpleasant but I drew solace from the fact that the session would be done in a few hours and I was free to roam.


The night market on Sundays (12pm to midnight) is an absolute must for anyone visiting Chaing Mai (or S.E Asia). Like any bazaar, the range of products sold is vast; therefore, one should not waste time with the cheaper looking stuff. Compared to North America, everything is relatively cheap especially if one is prepared to plead one’s case or “barter” as my North American travel buddies ineptly stated, despite my numerous attempts to enlighten them. One of the main things sold at the bazzar in which I took interest were paintings.

Art is best expressed by simple people who have no fixation on material wealth. The Buddhist beliefs of Thailand, highlights the innate ability and the Sunday Bazaar is the best place to see the splendor.


The two paintings which we purchased from Bobby, a 5’11” dreadlocked Thai artist (Thais are usually short), highlight the vivid hope of life – a butterfly on a 4’ x 3’ canvas, and the joy of simplicity in a 5’ x 3’ black, blue and red depiction of the floating market.

Before I returned to North America, I wisely framed the pictures and the kind Thai woman put the oversized frames on the 16 hour Asian Air flight at no cost; the cost for the pictures, framing and transport to Los Angeles, LAX? $200 USD.

When I arrived at LAX, the dutiful customs offices were curious about what was nicely wrapped. Much to my delight, everything was intact and my flight onward to Winnipeg was with United Airlines (see United breaks guitars). My optimism was quickly dashed when the United agent informed me that my oversized luggage would cost $350 to check through – more than the cost of the items. Luckily, I was able to “barter” and later extend my gratitude to the agent for which I paid $100; yet I ended up with two broken picture frames. I was back in the capitalist state.

Armed with my experiences, I shall certainly return to Chiang Mai, Thailand.


Korp khun khop!

A Lioness Among Lions (Zimbabwe)

by Chicago Shedell

Chicago Shedell is a native of Chicago, guest contributing writer for laughingtraveller, and associate of Rose Mountain Photography.

I am Chicago Shedell: lioness, socialite, world traveler, health field worker, mom, and all around fabulous-fashionista. In May 2010, I went alone on a business trip to Zimbabwe to open up a night club in downtown Harare. The plane ride was the longest of all my travels so far: exhausting, uncomfortable and 32 hours’ worth. For the majority of the trip I worked long days and nights in a number of high rises in downtown Harare; but the venture was successful so I decided there is no way that I could spend all this time in Africa without having a bit of fun. I am business savvy so as part of my contract, I made sure I negotiated a trip to the safari so I could see the lions.

I was extremely excited about seeing the lions because for my entire life I have always been aroused and fascinated by lions: collecting pictures, watching their mating as well as hunting habits on Animal Planet etc. I am yet to figure out why I am drawn to these regal animals but I assume it’s because of their pure passion for life and beastly mannerisms which somewhat parallels my own lifestyle.

Anyways, while on safari, the cost to enter the park/den was only $3 USD. As I approached I grew excited to see them and in a single chorus, as if they knew I was there, 40 lions welcomed me in a coordinated roar. This was the most chilling and arousing sound I have ever heard.

I was able to get close and pet them; their coats and fur are very soft and like house cats they enjoyed there bellies being rubbed. Being in the den, I felt no fear and a sense of euphoria the entire time. I did not want to leave and could have stayed with them all the entire day if possible.

Laying with the lions made me feel like royalty because I had often seen pictures of ancient queens and kings next to lions and other exotic cats.


The loud roars of the cats and watching them play with each other sent my body into a hormonal outburst and state of ecstasy…oh la la…and I think they sensed it and this is why I believe they got so close to me. I will do it all over again but the next time the ultimate experience will be to see them mate…

What's the opposite of Fair? (Ghana)

If light skin is "fair" then what is dark skin? Language, images, ideologies, religion, culture etc...are all important in how we view ourselves.

So what exactly drives someone to bleach the melanin out of their skin? Sociological studies have shown that people with lighter skin have better access to jobs, are considered prettier, and is more likely to have better access to upward mobility.

Skin bleaching is prevalent in many ex-European colonies (Jamaica, Trinidad, Barbados, India, Guyana, Ghana, Sudan, Mexico, parts of Asia etc...etc.) One thing we know from history is that oppressed people tend to take on characteristics of their current or past oppressors because those qualities are associated with prestige. Take for example the once used brown paper bag test or doll test in the United States.

When I was in Ghana, my travel mates and I were on our way back from a coco-cola bottling plant and at the side of the road; I saw for the first time in all my travels a billboard advertising skin bleaching cream. I immediately yelled "stop the bus!" everyone seemed a bit confused as to why I was yelling. I got off and took a snapshot.

I have seen examples of skin bleaching first hand in Guyana, Barbados, and Ghana. In the market place at Kumasi, Ghana; I met a woman whose face was discolored from bleach. When I enquired she proudly stated that she used skin bleach. I asked why and she said to become fair.

Where would you recommend that your sister travel by herself?

 ...in response to a question I received from a woman who plans to travel alone.

My answer: Anywhere except a war zone!

Furthermore, let’s get a bit more specific, the majority of questions I receive from women in regards to travel are those about safety issues and for good reasons.

Take for example, when I was in Ghana, one of my travel companions had her shoulder bag snatched by someone in a moving car, she fell to the road, and bruised her hip. Another friend of mine stated when she visited France, a man followed her to her hotel and tried to make sexual advances. A third woman I met in Nicaragua complained that a man got into her cab and demanded that she pay for both of them and tried to go back to her hotel with her. I have also heard women complained about groping, having their stuff stolen etc...



Girl - Lake Nicaragua

 Though, I must say in my experience the world is not as dangerous as portrayed on television, the majority of people do not want to harm travellers but they are curious about you as much as you are about them. Providing you explore your curiosities while being security conscious.



In the mean time here are some basic tips for women, in addition to regular safety tips and necessities:

- Understand that you may loose some of your freedoms that you are accustomed to: style of dress, places you can go etc...Do your research before travel.

- If possible find another female traveller who is by herself and team up.

- Avoid going out at night alone, if you have to only travel using clearly marked license taxi cabs.

- more than likely if you are inviting a male back to your hotel he is expecting sex, therefore avoid compormising situations.

- Go with your gut feeling, if it looks suspicious, it probably is, get the hell out of there.

- Pregnant women and mothers with children are some of the safest people to ask for directions.

- Speak and appear confidently as well as friendly, at all times.

- Firmly say "no" in the common tongue, if you don't want something you are being offered or propositioned.

- Always misinform about where you are staying, when you leaving, who you are travelling with, and when you arrived.

~ bon voyage!

10 Bare Necessities Every Traveller Needs

Backpacker Edition

1. Guide Book: I recommend Lonely Planet guide books; they are precise, contain maps: street, city, and country, cheap to moderate places to eat and sleep, as well as things to do and see. I suggest you protect your travel guide with the same importance you protect your passport.

2. Back Pack: is easier to maneuver and carry than an awkward suit case or duffle bag thus, leaving your hands free at all time. You do not need as much clothing as you think, everything one needs can fit in a back pack.


Antigua, Guatemala

 3. First Aid Kit: I don't carry a typical first aid kit, mine consists of three main ingredients. A tiny bottle of iodine, ciprofloxacin, and Imodium/Loperamide capsules. Cipro is very powerful, so powerful that it is used to prevent anthrax infections. I use it to kill bacterial infections I may ingest from water or food. You should not buy any medicine until you get to your destination; especially, if you are going to a "less developed country" the medicine is always extremely cheaper there than in "developed" countries. Iodine is for topical use, if I get a cut or bruised.


First house/hostel where I stayed
in Barrio Martha Quezada

4. Recording Material: camera, laptop, journal, or video camera. My personal two recommendations are a journal and a DSLR. I favor the DSLR over the video camera because I can easily add photographs to my Facebook/blog/email to share with my family and friends while I am abroad.

Second, a journal because you are taking in a lot of new visual and auditory information and will forget details that you may want recall later. Who remembers that they stayed in and neighborhood called "Barrio Martha Quezada," a few years ago? I do because I recorded it in my journal... 

 5. Travel Towel: travel towels are made form a soft, synthetic, super, absorbent, lightweight fiber that dries ridiculously quick. I once found myself in a mountainous region of a Central American country during the rainy season, had I had a regular 'plush' towel, that would have taken days to dry.


Paris, France



 6. Water Proof Hiking Boots: Protection of your most important transportation vehicle is necessary. A friend of mine and I hiked up Mount Pacaya and she wore sandals; needless to say the tiny volcanic rock irritated her feet. Your hiking boots should be lightweight, breathable, and waterproof.

7. Photocopies of your Passport and Drivers License: Incase your passport is ever stolen; like mine was, the photocopy allows you to easily visit an embassy or consulate of your home country to obtain travel documents. I recommend having two copies of each document and keeping them in seprate places.

8. Money Belt: The money belt is carried under your clothes and hidden from pesky pick pocketers. I also recommend carrying your passport in your money belt when you cannot find a safe place to keep it.

(L-R)Euros, Guyanese Dollar,
 Guatemalian Quetzales, money belt.

 Most money belts aren't water proof so, put your passport in a zip lock bag then place it in your money belt so when you get caught in the rain your passport does not incur water damage.

Never take out your money belt in public or carry all your money in one place. Carry a visa card for emergency.

9. Willingness to Bargain: for everything! even set prices you that are listed. Always remember that there is a tourist price and a local price. The willingness to bargain, walk away if you feel you are being cheated, and shop around will save you a lot of money.

10. Positive/Adventurous/Respectful-Friendly/Security-Conscious Attitude: Your attitude is your number one and most important tool as a traveller. Having a positive and adventurous attitude make a great travel. Take for example, pick pocketers once tried to steal from me when I travelled on a bus over night, had I allowed that one experience to taint my adventures, I would be afraid to go places and have fun. Security consciousness is important; you should memorize/write down or take pics of locations, faces, places, street name etc. I carry a pocket knife but the only thing I had to use it for was to cut fruits so far. Finally, being respectful of other's people culture and being friendly, by attempting to speak their language; therefore, sub-communicating that you are aware you are in their world and they are not in yours could mean the difference between someone helping or attacking you.



American man trains dog to bite John Oliver (Nicaragua)



Dan & John Oliver (Granada, Nicaragua)

 On a warm January afternoon in Nicaragua, I slipped into my white shirt, blue jeans, and slippers then headed onto a strip of colorful buildings consisting of rustic looking restaurants built around court yards and 4 star hotels. I had gathered, earlier that day when I visited the strip for breakfast was that the businesses are owned by foreigners and wealthy Nicaraguans. The proprietors catered to tourist: serving up some of the best mojitos and pancakes I ate in Central America thus far.

One of the most notable characters, my travel mate Dan and I met that day was John Oliver. After breakfast John came up to me and introduced himself as an artist. He showed me some painted tiles and a small canvas painting, some water colors, brushes, and then asked for a donation of $2 USD to purchase some more tiles. I gave him $1 and tried to hurry him along because I did not want to be bothered.

I've become so crafty at (not) dealing with street vendors and panhandlers in others countries that I can sometimes repel them form a mile away. Approximately 10% of the time when I am overseas, I don't want be or asked for money, so I derived tips and tricks to repel them. Take for example: I sometimes give away candy, gum instead or a mean face and closed off body language which leads to them leaving me alone.

Don't let any world traveller tell that they are 100% ‘Good Samaritan,’ and that they care about every "native" they encounter; therefore, they are always diplomatic with vendors, panhandlers, and proprietors. I have met many of my fellow travellers form as far as Israel to New Zealand and many of us who reside in "first world" countries go to the "3rd world" with our fancy iPods, cameras, Euros, dollars, cameras, and romanticize the notion of what it is to be a native. We pat the street children on the head, give them a dollar, share our food with the homeless, smile at pretty ladies, and then return to our countries feeling like humanitarians.  Many of us rarely bring anything (presents, service, goods, knowledge etc...) but instead like colonialist we go there to extract i.e. exotic photographs, money, goods, new experiences, food, sex toruism, clothing, drink, and art.

Moreover, even philanthropist from first world countries who dedicate their lives to building a better world must understand that we bring our prejudiced historical, political, social, and gendered perspectives to interpret the lives of "the natives." I use the word native being fully aware that the term itself is politically charged. Some of us are so horrible at it, that we examine the culture we are visiting in explicit orientalist fashion.

Anyways, that evening when I returned to a one of the restaurants for drinks, this one in particular was owned by a young American business man who paraded the property with his friendly looking terrier. As sat in a comfortable wooden chair with my feet up and drinking; John Oliver came up and sat on the curb directly in front of me.

J.O. "Yo dread where you from?"

Ade: "I live in the U.S." where are you from? [Asking because he was the first black person I saw in Nicaragua]

J.O: "I am from the Caribbean coast of Nicaragua."

John then takes out some of his art work, without warning the business owner's faithful terrier rushed at John and bit him on the left arm. Shocked, john jumped to his feet. I looked at John and asked him "are you ok!?" He did not respond. Hey your dog just bit him," I said to the American business owner, yes I saw...he always come to the restaurant begging customers.

A bit confused, I turned back to John and asked again:

Are you ok?!? "Yes," he replied. "Look at my leg," John raised his pant leg a bit, exposing a large scar on his left ankle. "He trained the dog to bite me, look what it did to my ankle."

Mingling with the Dead (France)

Catacombes de Paris



...the first definition is how I playfully define Adeism and the second is of an actual branch of atheism.


1. Adeism: "a system of beliefs induced with all sort of elixirs and prestidigitatory roller coasters."


2. Adeism: "is identical to the position of weak atheism, nontheism, or negative atheism. Adeists, unlike atheists, are unwilling to make the positive claim of belief that a God does not exist. The adeist lacks a belief, or is without a belief in God. This is not to be confused with agnosticism, which states that the existence of God cannot be known. It is rather the suspension of belief that is the crux of the adeist position."


Wow! Forer's effect. Whosoever wrote the above is either selling me snake oil or has read my journal. I can't make this stuff up, I am Ade, and the branch of atheism in which I share my name with, precisely describes my belief about God.


So what does all that have to do with the dead?


Well, I'll tell you I don't believe in resurrection, an afterlife, or better yet I am wise enough to say: I don't have any proof.  This is the main reason why I don't fear the dead nor do I fear death. So naturally when I am overseas, I spend time hanging out at molseums, burial grounds, columbariums, catholic churches, and tombs. The resting places of the dead are usually quiet, serene, and provides a place of solitude for the living as well. Travelling can be stressful on the mind and body so these places provide a space where I am able to temporarily escape the hassle of the living world. Additionally, I find graves stones to be some of the most fascinating artistic pieces of work.

Take for example, when I was in France, I spent about five hours at the famous Cimetiere du Père Lachaise. There I saw the grave sites of many famous actors, aritsts, poets, dancers, writers, teachers, lovers etc...  Some of whom I chatted to and thanked them for their contribution: a few words with Richard Wright here, a few with Balzac there and some words to my favorite european classical composer Chopin.


My trip to Père Lachaise has been one of the most educational outings I have ever taken to any place that rests the dead. First, I met a younger man than I, who is from Brazil and had been travelling throughout France by himself. He and I quickly befriended each other, walk together, and talked about art, photography, philosophy, music, and politics all in the context of the dead surrounding us. I talked extensively about Pierre Bourdieu and his influence on my writings in graduate school, also about how irate I was that I could not find his grave site. My friend taught me about Allan Kardec and his thoughts on spiritualism, life in Brazil, and we later discussed his trip so far.

Tomb of Abélard and Heloïse

Second, the map of the burial ground listed many famous people, most whom I no idea who they were, so when I returned the US, I was forced to read up on and seek out some of their works. Additionally, I saw the grave sites of Jim Morrison, Proust, the famous lovers Abélard and Heloïse, Oscar Wilde etc...

Anytime I find myself hanging at places of the dead it always allow me the mental space to recon template my death and how I want handled when I die. Here is the simple winning formula: cremation, throw me a party, play loud reggae music, and absolutely no tears from family or friends. Why? I made sure I lived a happy and adventurous life.



Paris: City of Romance & Immigrant Poverty

Romance...
I had previously heard so much about the Seine in my classical lit course and read about its banks in travel magazines which lead to me imagining a roaring, uncompromising river; similar to the Potaro, Demerara, or Berbice. These are the rivers I had known as a child which are dangerous life takers. On a chilly day in January, I saw for the first time a river; in which, its banks were busy with tourist and lovers from all over the world strolling, and holding hands with their mates while exchanging kisses.

France is a rich nation, which has the financial capital to promote Paris as the city of romance. As a colonial power it acquired billions of dollars from its colonies, it was the 6th largest colonial empire spanning across the world with a large portion of it satellites in Northern and Western Africa. The richness of the country is reflected in the classical architecture of the buildings, the pristine riverboats, the RER trains running along the banks of the Seine and through out the city, the Eifel tower, the Louvre etc... and even the automatic porta potties located on the sides of the streets.

France's strategy of marketing Paris and the city of romance is brilliant in that the Seine helps to upkeep the image. There is always something seductive about peaceful waterfronts and accordion music. The mood of river during the day is calm as the Eifel tower sits still on the bank of the Seine. On that day in January, everyone around the Eifel tower seemed at peace; as they snapped photographs, took the elevator to the top of the tower to have lunch, rode the river boats, or visited the museums.

Poverty...

Everyone except for North African immigrant women who were begging and male African vendors who were being chased by the French police for selling key chains to tourist. My heart went out to vendors, I exhaled for a moment, stood still and watched in disgust as the police harassed them.

It reminded me of the days in my early childhood: watching the Old Earth (my mother) scurrying about Bourda market (Guyana) hiding smuggled goods: split peas, wheat flour, and cans of milk, for which she had travelled all the way to the end of the country's borders to purchase and resell to make a profit. Back then under President Burnham’s quasi-socialist government these items were banned.

Anyways, the African immigrants were scattered at the base to the tower, hiding and running in every direction. The bicycle police caught one of male vendors, collared him, and began yelling; fearful, the vendor dropped all his key chains to the ground.

I stood some 60 yards from him, feeling powerless; I had seen this scenario before: immigrant vendor vs. police, I have seen it too many times, also in New York City. I don't claim to have a full epistemological understanding of immigrant poverty in the context of vendors all over the world but I know these situations and how they end. I grow tired of seeing it.

In NYC, I have seen African Immigrants selling bootleg CDs and DVDs laid out on a bed sheet on the ground. The reason for this is so that they can easily grab the four ends of the sheet and run when the police approaches.

I remember reading in the NY times in the early 2000 that France had been struggling in figuring out way on how to deal with the influx of African immigrants. The immigrants are facing racism as well as a high rate of unemployment and had been rebelling in the streets of France, turning over cars and lighting them on fire.

As I stood watching the French police harassing the vendor, very few tourist or lovers seemed to have noticed or cared. Tourist walked casually by went about their business; observing for a few more minutes I too then left and went about my business.