Primitive Ilustrations: Monsters of the Mekong.

Fairly soon after I moved to Bangkok, I bought a set of watercolor paints with the idea to work on a few illustrations about the places and creatures that I encountered while exploring Southeast Asia. Finally, after living here for nearly ten months, I completed my first one. And whether it was having just finished reading 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, or the influence of Jess Gonacha of Treasuring - this painting ended up being all about fish.

Tropical rivers have always held a fascination for me, and few regions are as defined by their waterways as Southeast Asia. There's the muddy, empire strewn Chao Phraya; the life giving Tonle Sap; and of course, the monstrous, epic Mekong. Part of what makes these waterways so mysterious is the strange creatures that it conceals.

So, in simple stylized forms, I depicted some of my favorite aquatic creatures. In a style inspired by scientific murals (like the one at the Maputo Natural History Museum, pictured above) and the 'Freshwater Fish of Thailand' chart that I had in my classroom, I set them out to display their bizarre forms and shapes. The star of the piece is of course the star of the river itself, the Giant Mekong Catfish.

Curious finds at a Bangkok antique market.

Bangkok certainly has no shortage of markets. There is the Khlong Toei market, selling fresh fish, meat and produce; the Suan Lum night bazaar, offering hip t-shirts and generic souvenirs; the Chatuchak weekend market, selling practically every dry good imaginable; and countless smaller markets, selling cut flowers, sewing supplies, illegal DVDs, and knockoff Levi jeans. Last weekend, Bordeaux and I visited one of the strangest markets yet. We were headed out to Chatuchack, but rather than getting off at the station closest to the entrance, we disembarked early at Saphan Kwai. Along the sidewalks of Paholyothin Road between Saphan Kwai and Chatuchak are a string of vendor's stands. Antiques and Buddhist amulets were the main goods on offer, but there was also cheap clothing, vintage Thai movie posters, and funky retro furnishings.

There were a few very intriguing finds among the cluttered card tables and blankets. We very nearly bought a set of 6 retro blue mugs, but couldn't justify having to buy the entire set. Bordeaux tried on bizarre sunglasses, which were both to funky and too expensive. And while I was browsing among a table of antiques, Bordeaux picked up and began playing with a strange toy camera. I was shocked when I saw it- I had the same Fisher-Price camera when I was a kid! In fact, I had the exact tape that was in the camera- Disney's 'Lonely Ghosts'. By closing one eye and winding the red dial on the side, you can watch cartoons in choppy animation.

But the best find (and the only one I took home) was this rather unusual vintage postcard. I found it among a pile of antique photos and postcards. It is undated, but states that it was 'Made in Japan', and features the English caption: "Alligator Hunting." At best I can surmise that the image depicts an event that took place in Africa, and that they are actually hunting crocodiles. I loved the faded hues of the image, the romanticized African setting, and the strangely monstrous depiction of the crocodiles (I have a fondness for river monsters). I imagine it will look rather handsome framed, on a bookcase or in a study.

Dolphins in the Mekong.

One of the highlights of visiting the area around Laos-Cambodian border is the chance to see the rare Irrawaddy dolphins that live in the Mekong. According to the guidebooks, the dolphins have a special place in local mythology- they're very close to humans, with reports that they have performed heroic deeds, like saving people from crocodiles. For the community living in the area today, they mainly represent a local source of eco-tourism. During the dry season, they can occasionally be spotted in Laos, among the shallow waters around the 4000 islands. During the wet season, it's much easier to see them in Cambodia, where they live in colonies around sunken islands.
Having spent a beautiful but rough week in Southern Laos- no good coffee or muesli!- the Cambodian town of Kratie welcomed us with an array of simple but comforting Western pleasures. The dining highlight of Kratie was the cafe at the Star Guesthouse. It was situated in a corner spot, across from the food market. Over breakfast or lunch, we watched the goings-on at the fruit stands, and admired the bundles of green bananas that hawkers lugged by. The cafe had a wide range of coffees, good sandwiches using imported ingredients, and my staple breakfast, muesli and yogurt. Kratie itself was a pleasant town, with aged and faded French architecture, and a packed market selling fresh fish and colorful fruit. Just a few blocks away from the town center, and the neighborhoods become starkly more rural; bamboo and wooden stilt houses replaced concrete apartment blocks, and horse drawn carts plodded between moto traffic. The town also had a beautiful location along a wide stretch of the Mekong, which was best viewed from the promenade at sunset, as the golden light filtered through the colonnade of trees.
The dolphins are best seen from Kampie, a small town roughly 15 minutes moto ride from Kratie. The road out was easily one of the most interesting part of the trip. The were beautiful wood homes, with ornately carved accents on the roof and along the eaves; tiny bamboo houses, perched on stilts over muddy water; and all of this piled along the road against a backdrop of intensely green rice paddies. As the moto slowed down, I easily spotted the entrance to the dolphin site; there was a tacky dolphin statue, fading in the tropical sun. We paid the entrance fee, which had risen to about $7 US (well worth it, especially if it actually goes toward protecting the dolphins' habitat)- that included a boat trip with local guides, who were required not to use motors or to chase the dolphins.
From the dock, it was a ten minute boat trip out to the deeper pools that the dolphins favor. I had been worried that we wouldn't see any dolphins- perhaps still thinking of my elephant-less visit to the elephant tower at Ban Na- so I was very surprised how quickly we saw the first dolphin. It's silver fin sliced out of the water, and it disappeared again. I was confused by the fact that the boat driver didn't stop, and didn't seem to pay it any attention- but when we got to our destination, I saw why. We anchored the boat, and watched the water. The dolphins were everywhere. They would appear in pairs, the two fins usually rising in unison. They aren't as playful or as outgoing as their bottlenose relatives, but they still came fairly close to the boat. Occasionally they would show themselves long enough for me to see their distinctive blunt noses and bulbous heads. We watched them for an hour, during which time I tried unsuccessfully to get a good photo. Thankfully, the experience of seeing these strange and rare river creatures more than made up for that.

In Search of River Monsters at Chiang Mai Zoo.

My reasons for wanting to visit the Chiang Mai Zoo were simple. I had long been fascinated with the Mekong Giant Catfish, the largest scaleless freshwater fish in the world. Left to grow in their muddy home, the creatures can grow to be over ten feet long and weigh up to 300 kilos. Though Bordeaux and I would soon be traveling by slowboat along the Mekong, we were unlikely to see any of these monsters, even if they were to thump along the bottom of our boat as we cruised by. As it happened, the Chiang Mai Zoo featured a freshwater aquarium that featured these catfish. This would thus likely be the best chance for me to see the creatures.
A short distance away from the walled center of Chiang Mai, the zoo seemed to be under heavy construction. The entrance was caked in fine grew cement dust, as workers put up a new parking structure and gate. Past the ticket booths were even more construction, as the zoo was having a monorail installed. Throughout our walk in the zoo we were accompanied by the silent green girder that slithered between trees, seeming more a forgotten ruin than the latest transportation technology. The zoo itself was planned rather oddly, so that to walk from one exhibit to the next often meant choosing from two unmarked paths, climbing a hill, crossing a parking lot, and then looking for the next brightly colored hand painted sign. Though the animals featured included a number of stunning mammals, like asian black bear, malayan sun bear, and Indian rhinoceros, the zoos biggest strength seemed to be its birds. A mesh tent had been raised over the hills natural forest, creating an aviary that housed parrots, peafowl, and the exotic Victoria Crown pigeon. In separate cages nested chattering storks, sullen owls, and several different species of exotic hornbills.
Though not the river monsters I was looking for, the zoo also had a beautiful collection of reptiles. There were dozens of Siamese crocodiles, which law open-jawed at the edge of mud wallows, flashing their jagged rows of teeth and occasionally blinking their yellow eyes. In low dark cages lived Burmese pythons, their sinewy coils lazily piled on top of each other. The zoo's general opinion was apparently that more is better when it comes to reptiles, so turtles and crocodiles were crowded together in huge numbers in concrete exhibits, where they climbed unevenly on top of each other in order to capture some sun. The exception to this was a sole beast kept some ten meters away from the other reptiles, in a round concrete pool all of its own: an enormous false gavial. It's red skin was thick and leathery, its body overgrown with age. While I stared down at it in admiration, it barely bothered to open its sharp eyes to look up beyond its thin, tapering jaws.
At last we found the waters of the Giant Catfish, at the far edge of the zoo. This corner seemed almost not to be in use anymore- fountains had run dry and cracked, and the pathways were overgrown with moss and creeping roots. We entered one dark rotunda, but found only small colorful fish, clustering in groups in the dim light of their tanks. Out the back door were only empty tanks, the concrete walls now stained with moss. Had the Giant Catfish once lived here? Was it gone? Down an unmarked path we found another door. Another tank with small fish- but also a path sloping down. It curved around two more aquariums, the fish growing stranger and more skittish in our presence. Down, around another bend in shivering florescent light. At last we reached a small lobby, unlit except for the green glow of the tank that curved around the u-shaped plot of tiles. Through the ripples of the clouded water, we saw an immense form moving slowly through the darkness. It seemed to glide effortlessly despite its heavy body, its eyes unblinking, the only sign of effort in the labored paddle of its tail. The Giant Mekong Catfish. It had been taken from its river, but it hadn't been stripped of its dignity or its grandeur. It had made this tank its new domain, obscured itself in darkness, and was slowly growing older and heavier in its own private kingdom.