Thailand - A Slice of Pai

Thailand - A Slice of Pai - August 3-11, 2008

Thailand is a crazy place. While I was in London, I had come to know it as the Brit's cheap beach alternative to Greece. All party and prostitution. Since I've left, I've learned it's a place of constant political upheaval, where different groups push the government out every few years, causing constant uncertainty and worry to the rest of Asia. Recently the government has been battling with protests, that have just this week come to a head with the protesters taking control of Bangkok airport, a major hub in south-east Asia.

The country seems to be fighting the contrast between the beautiful beaches where tourists flock to and the deeply religious people who are immensely proud of their king and extremely generous in their hospitality. What's the real Thailand? As usual, probably something in between.


But I didn't really get to see much of any of this. After two months of intense travelling where I'd thrown a spear with the Masai in the Serengeti, boiled in the Valley of the Kings in Luxor, sailed through blue water in the Cyclades, road a horse and a donkey in the lost city of Petra, and walked in the footsteps of prophets in Jerusalem, I came to Thailand to recover. To be honest, I'd had it with new cultures, new languages, and new foods and decided to shut down for a week. I think I had earned it!


So I spent a night in Bangkok, a night in the northern city of Chiang Mai, and finally made it to my destination, Pai, after a four hour mini-bus ride. By the time I arrived, I probably looked like I was on my death bed and scared the daylights out of my hosts. I had booked myself into the marvelous Pai Chan, had the owner, Aey, show me my private bungalow, and spent most of the rest of the week in bed. It was glorious. At about US$6 per night, I couldn't imagine another place on the planet that I'd rather be. Even at the beginning of the rainy season, I was happy.


Here's a shot of my open-air "rain shower," cleverly named because occasionally I was actually rained on while I was showering. Still, it was really nice.


The small town is becoming well known on the traveller circuit of south-east Asia, but the difficult journey there and the draw of the southern Thai beaches mean that people often only come to Pai to be in Pai. Like me. And from what I saw, people keep coming back year after year. They were starting to become accustomed to the expectations of 'farang' (the less-than-polite Thai word for Westerner), but didn't quite have it all down. When I asked in a shop for a place that I could buy bug spray, the man told me to turn right and find the "serran erran," which after a minute of thought, I realized he meant 7-Eleven. Having just arrived in Asia, I would quickly learn as well how 7-Eleven had completely taken over not just in Thailand, but also in most other Asian countries. For me, it was a surprise, but when I found my self returning periodically to get the things I couldn't find anywhere else, I began to understand that they were really on to something.

As you'd expect, my tourist instincts weren't completely shut off, so I did poke my head into a temple or two, but it was only because they were close to the 7-Eleven.




Anyway, back in Pai, I was starting to get to know the locals. They are a mix, with many actually from other parts of Thailand looking for the same pace of life that the Westerners are when they come. They are fun and relaxed, warming quickly to people without pretension. As with other parts of Thailand, some of the men seem that they would rather be ladies, adding a memorable twist. I'm told Thailand has the highest percentage of cross-dressers, and from what I saw that is definitely true.

So I spent my week mostly reading and relaxing. To keep my brain functioning, I declared that I would do one substantial thing each day. I didn't, of course, declare what I meant by substantial, and usually was content with something like getting a haircut, to which I would promptly reward myself with a long nap. What a life. The only thing that made it a bit uncomfortable was the amazing bugs found around town. If you can live with that, Pai is a great place to be. I even made friends with a slug that had made himself comfortable in my bathroom for the week.


One night, I searched around and found a bar with a TV that was showing the opening ceremony of the Olympics. I was still amazed even with the announcer speaking Chinese and the subtitles in Thai, there was no denying it was a spectacle beyond compare. And so, a few days later, feeling rejuvenated and filled with anticipation, I hopped on the mini-bus back to Chiang Mai, boarded a flight to Bangkok, another flight to Hong Kong, and finally another to Beijing. I was going to experience the 2008 Summer Olympics in the country with the most to prove.

UAE - Dubai

UAE - Dubai - August 1-2, 2008

To understand my time in Dubai, let me add a bit of context that may get lost in the various blog posts. Each trip I'm describing, as amazing as they have all been, have been in sequence. If you consider travel my job for at this point, I'd have been working for exactly 50 days in a row. Granted, there were a few down moments, such as sitting on the beach in Zanzibar, but all in all it had been pretty busy. In the past week alone, I'd spent one night in Tel Aviv, taken an overnight bus across much of Israel, spent three nights in boiling Petra, one night in Amman, two in Jerusalem, and then woke at 2am to catch my flight to Dubai. I was completely exhausted and starting to fall sick. As my parents would say, I was burning the candle at both ends.

So with the freedom of a sabbatical, why was I moving so much? There's a lot to see. And I knew that coming up soon I'd be in Thailand for a week of absolutely nothing but peace. Ok, then why would I stop to spend two days in Dubai? The simple reason is that it's become the hub for the Middle East so most flights West would go through there.

For me, I wanted to see it because it had become the hub for the Middle East and I didn't really understand. Could oil money and desire actually build a global city from the desert? How was it all run? Who was really going there and spending money in the world-renowned shopping malls? What did a seven star hotel built on it's own private island actually look like? Why were they building the world's tallest tower? How did they reconcile all of this with the strong Islamic traditions?

What I found when I finally arrived at my hotel was.....my bed. And I stayed there all day. I was much too tired to face the scorching heat outside and the burning questions I had about Dubai. Instead I slept and watched Forest Gump on tv. Run Forest! Run!

When I had recovered somewhat, I was starving so went out into the night to find some food. I asked the man who ran my hotel (at US$100 per night, it was the most expensive I have stayed in on my whole trip so far....and the cheapest in Dubai), and all he had to offer was a point down the road saying that there were lots of places by the river. Not having much faith in his advice, I went the other way and felt like I'd been transported to India. Every person I saw was Indian, the small restaurants had Hindi menus and pots of curry, the small side streets were packed with Indians after work gathering to catch up or wait for the bus. It was amazing. And, as adventurous as I am, I couldn't find a single thing I was willing to eat. I went into one small shop and asked for "only veg," to which the man happily brought over a slab of meat that looked like it was killed in 1970. I finally entered another hotel and found their lonely restaurant, ordered some chicken tikka masala, and opened my guidebook to find out what the heck was going on.


It turns out that Dubai has had a huge influx of Indians who, along with Pakistani and Bangladeshis, and make up nearly 65% of the population, and probably the entire working class. It's astonishing. I was expecting to get here and see lots of men in robes strolling through the streets, but instead I only saw Indians. And they were everywhere. Later, I chatted with one taxi driver from Delhi who explained that many came here looking for work and when they had it, they worked very hard, sending as much money home to their family as possible.

I thought that was interesting for two reasons. First, a lot of the money being earned in the UAE must not stay there, but instead get's shipped to the "true homes" of the workers (though I know the Emerates keep their fair share). Second, if the oil money runs out, many of these people will have not built lives there, and instead will just return home. It's hard to build skyscrapers and shopping malls without all the people who actually hammer the nails.

What Dubai is trying to do is plan for the oil money running out. Clever, but what's the plan? As I understand it, they want to become a business and tourist center. Where you can be pampered in the seven star Burj Dubai (here it is accepting another guest via helicopter):


...shop in better-than-Western shopping malls (could almost be New Jersey, notice the Krispy Kreme Hot Sign on the right?):


...visit a man-made beach (the water in the Persian Gulf was the hottest I'd ever felt):


...do business in the world's tallest tower (the Burj Dubai is there on the right):


...ski at their man-made indoor ski slope and....er.....um....other things. Such as visiting the mosque!


Sounds like a hit, right?!? For me, it wasn't even close. The first problem was the heat & humidity. It was omnipresent and overwhelming in a way I'd never known. The city's people are at it's mercy. Though they are fighting back with air conditioning and shopping malls, going outside in the day or night is like stepping into a hot shower. Even my Indian taxi driver said it didn't compare to notoriously hot Bombay. Now, I suppose I was there in the summer, but the average high for the year is 92°F, so it's pretty darn hot all year round. As I said above, even the water at the beach was hot.

Also...the dust. Perhaps you were wondering why a few of those pictures were a bit hazy? It's not my lack of photographing skills. You can really only see a few hundred feet down the road before everything just gets lost in the haze. Apparently it's dust blowing in from the desert. I'm sure it's not like that all the time, but if you can hardly see the world's tallest building from a few blocks away, what is the point of making it so tall??

Plus, it's expensive! I already mentioned my outrageous hotel room (consider that three nights later I was in a private bungalow in Thailand for US$6 per night). But everything else - including those shopping malls - is crazy too. It all has to be imported, so someone has to pay.

Ok well fair enough. I don't have to like every place, right? But some people must love it? Maybe. I saw quite a few Russians there shopping and they looked like they were having a great time. I guess I'm just not the target audience. All I know is that they better work out who it is. And fast.

Israel - Birth Write

Israel - Birth Write

Over the course of the week Patricia and I spent touring Israel and Jordan, we came across a number of young Jewish Americans who were visiting Israel as part of the Birthright program. I can vaguely remember hearing about this from friends in New York, but didn't really know any details. It is unique, controversial, and astounding all at the same time.

Set up in 2000 by philanthropist guys Charles Bronfman and Michael Steinhardt in cooperation with the Israeli government and a bunch of charities, the program funds 10 day trips to Israel for any young American (and many other countries) that can prove Jewish heritage. The honorable stated goal is...

"to send thousands of young Jewish adults from all over the world to Israel as a gift in order to diminish the growing division between Israel and Jewish communities around the world; to strengthen the sense of solidarity among world Jewry; and to strengthen participants' personal Jewish identity and connection to the Jewish people."

I'm sure the vast majority of people going through the experience do actually come out enriched and more knowledgeable than they were before. However, I'm cautious in supporting such grand sweeping movements that don't seem to have much transparency. We met a young woman who was a journalism student at a West Coast university and hoping to get an article about the program published. She thought that with such little press about the program so far, she would really be able to make a mark.


What I found really incredible about the Birthright program (beyond it's bold name) is the shear SCALE of it. Say there are six million Jews in America and 160,000 participants from all over the world have entered the program so far. Assuming 70% of those are American (that's 112,000), and that 25% of the 6 million are under 25m.....that means that in the 8 years the program has been running at least 7.5% of the young American Jews have been on this program. Maybe that doesn't sound like a whole lot, but when you consider how rapidly Birthright is growing, that percentage will increase very quickly.

If you believe that two weeks can change a person's life, the progress and development of the Birthright program is certainly one to watch. I can't think of a single other ideological, centrally coordinated institution that has the possibility of gaining more influence in America. Considering how many leaders in American business, finance and politics are Jewish, the potential impact of this ONE program is inconceivable.

But what I really worry about is a one-sided view of things. I am honestly not trying to down-play anything - certain Palestinians (especially Hamas) have done horrific things to Israelis, but we rarely hear about some of the horrible things that the Israelis have done to innocent Palestinians as well. What I would like to see is a more open debate.


The classic example for me is the play My Name is Rachel Corrie that I mentioned in my last post. This play was scheduled to come to a New York theater, showing an alternate view of the Israel/Palestine conflict from an American voice, but apparently strong pressure from people of influence was applied and the play was cancelled by the respected New York Theater Workshop. I thought the investigation done in this article by (left-leaning) magazine The Nation tells the story well. The play was subsequently picked up by the Minetta Lane Theatre and, from what I can tell, didn't get nearly as much attention as in the UK.

Of course, having an ideology and teaching it to a new generation is not a bad thing. It's a wonderful thing in fact. I know that my life is better off because of the Christian lessons I learned when I was in Sunday School. The main concerns of a program like the Birthright is that by painting the world with a finite set of colors, some of the best solutions to the Israel/Palestine conflict will likely be written off before they can even be explored. To do that, you need to see both the Israeli and Palestinian people as humans with caring, compassion, and desire. The last one is usually the most useful. If you believe that most Palestinians desire peace, what would be the way to deliver that to them?

I read this excellent cover article in GOOD magazine in 2007 that interviews Bruce Bueno de Mesquita, the chairman of NYU’s Department of Politics. What I realized is that the Israeli people would first have to view the Palestinians as rational people, rather than barbarians, for something like this to work. There are, of course, some who act irrationally, but, for the sake of my children being able to see all that I saw when I travelled through Israel, I hope that most aren't. And I hope that the Birthright program can help us move in that direction, rather than into more conflict.

Here's a quote from the article where Bueno de Mesquita describes an idea for starting to build peace:

"'In my view, it is a mistake to look for strategies that build mutual trust because it ain’t going to happen. Neither side has any reason to trust the other, for good reason,' he says. 'Land for peace is an inherently flawed concept because it has a fundamental commitment problem. If I give you land on your promise of peace in the future, after you have the land, as the Israelis well know, it is very costly to take it back if you renege. You have an incentive to say, ‘You made a good step, it’s a gesture in the right direction, but I thought you were giving me more than this. I can’t give you peace just for this, it’s not enough.’ Conversely, if we have peace for land-you disarm, put down your weapons, and get rid of the threats to me and I will then give you the land-the reverse is true: I have no commitment to follow through. Once you’ve laid down your weapons, you have no threat.'

Bueno de Mesquita’s answer to this dilemma, which he discussed with the former Israeli prime minister and recently elected Labor leader Ehud Barak, is a formula that guarantees mutual incentives to cooperate. 'In a peaceful world, what do the Palestinians anticipate will be their main source of economic viability? Tourism. This is what their own documents say. And, of course, the Israelis make a lot of money from tourism, and that revenue is very easy to track. As a starting point requiring no trust, no mutual cooperation, I would suggest that all tourist revenue be [divided by] a fixed formula based on the current population of the region, which is roughly 40 percent Palestinian, 60 percent Israeli. The money would go automatically to each side. Now, when there is violence, tourists don’t come. So the tourist revenue is automatically responsive to the level of violence on either side for both sides. You have an accounting firm that both sides agree to, you let the U.N. do it, whatever. It’s completely self-enforcing, it requires no cooperation except the initial agreement by the Israelis that they are going to turn this part of the revenue over, on a fixed formula based on population, to some international agency, and that’s that.'"

If anyone has an opinion on Birthright or the topic as a whole, please send it over as I'm very curious to hear more. Of course, as a blogger with legions of fans (um...hi Mom), a conversation in the comments would be great, but feel free to email me directly as well if you prefer.

Israel - Jerusalem

Israel - Jerusalem - July 30-August 1, 2008

Jerusalem. The name conjures up images of strife and hope all mixed together for thousands of years. The significance of this city can not be overstated. It is home to passionate Jews, Christians, and Muslims, all with a keen eye on the past combined with their own vision for the future. And inside each group there are equally strong conflicts on the future of this holy city. Extreme conservative Israelis want to push out all other groups and reclaim the "spiritual center of the Jewish people since the 10th century BC." While some moderate ones believe that a peaceful separation of the city between the Israelis and the Palestinians is the only way to find peace within our lifetimes. It seems to have become no longer a question of right and wrong, but instead a show of the strongest will. These are people who with a lot of practice at showing strong will.

What Patricia and I found when we arrived in the summer heat confirmed my feelings. Our border crossing at the Allenby/King Hussein Bridge was hands down the most difficult I've experienced. We were dropped off in a taxi...spoke to a few people...waited in a room...showed our passports...showed our passports again...boarded a bus...waited...waited...drove across the bridge...waited...handed our passports to match to our luggage...watched an American backpacker in a beard be interrogated about "why he has a beard" ("because I don't like to shave" was his clever answer, which drew a serious frown from the officer)...stood in line while an Argentinian man explained that he had family in a northern Israeli town but was unable to provide any details other than their names....stood in line some more....and then were thrust out of the oven-like immigration building into the furnace-like heat of the Israeli desert. The ordeal was too much for my friend and we had to let a few buses go before she started feeling better.

When we finally arrived in Jerusalem's Old Town, we collapsed in the simple, but pleasant, private room of the Jaffa Gate Hostel that Patricia had booked. An excellent choice for the location, free internet, and extremely helpful staff (the amazing desk clerk later drove us around the city to find a purse left at a restaurant who's name we couldn't remember...with success!). We finally recovered and were ready to discover Jerusalem.


It is without question the most powerfully religious place I have ever been. Within the Old Town, a 0.35 square mile area protected by massive stone walls, you have a collection of some of the most important Christian, Muslim, and Jewish sites in the world.

We first stopped at the Tower of David, where we seemed to follow the same route as a very New York Jewish family, the father buzzing with excitement at every turn, reminding the kids of the stories that had been shared many times in the past. I appreciated his effort and enthusiasm, but the history lesson seemed to have been a bit lost on the young boys who seemed more interested in trying to climb the fences.


From there, we found the Jewish Quarter and the Western Wall, one of the most important sites and symbol for all of Jerusalem. Originally built by Herod the Great as part of the Second Temple in 19 BC, it is all that is left of the temple and is a living reminder of the difficult history of the Jewish people.

The wall itself, of course, is just a symbol, but the passion of the people that swirl around it is astounding. I found myself standing and gazing at people coming and going. Men showing respect with heads covered, women in shawls. I thought my Yankees hat was appropriate. All day a constant flow of people would be drawn to the wall for a touch, kiss, and a prayer. Some stayed for ages, taking their time in this holy place to make they said it just right. Others celebrated the children becoming adults and the adults becoming children.


I joined the flow to the wall, following my "traveller's principle" that no matter how intimidated I may be, try to join in as much as possible. Photographs are wonderful, but the experience is the reason I came all this way.


That's me above (um...the tall one) looking stoic after my moment with the Wall.



Next, looking for balance, we tried to get to the Temple Mount and the Dome of the Rock (the gold dome in the picture above towering over the Western Wall). As we approached this Muslim controlled area, a few kids gathered around making me feel uneasy. They told us it was closed, but we walked to the guard anyway thinking they were trying to scam us. We were looked up and down, and told it was closed for lunch. This may have been true, I'll never know. But when we returned several hours later, we were told it was too late now and it was closed for non-Muslims as it was Thursday and the sun was starting to set, indicating the start of Friday, the day of worship. We politely asked when the mosque would open again for us and were told Sunday 10am. Three days later. The day after we leave Jerusalem. Hmm. Looks like we'll be missing that one.


Via Dolorosa


Inside the Armenian Church built to remember the spot where Mary watches Jesus go by with the cross (station 4)

Via Dolorosa, said to be the street where Jesus carried the cross on the way to the crucifixion, was where we spent most of the rest of our day. There we found the balance that was lost at the Dome of the Rock.

We walked along the stone street stopping at each station for a picture and a look around. Some stations were peaceful with small jewelery shops. Others were bustling with traffic and pizza places. Along the way the feeling builds, and I read aloud to Patricia the small story behind each stop.

"Station 3, where Jesus fell for the first time."

"Station 5, where Simon of Cyrene helps Jesus carry the cross."

"Station 8, where Jesus met the pious women."

Full of expectation, we followed the path to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, where the final four stations can be found, and were greeted with a ray of light.


This is, of course, a clever architectural design, but it has a powerful force and I was not the only one impressed. The church, though extremely crowded, is a masterpiece and majestically culminates the "Way of Suffering." It has many layers, and as you dive deeper into them, you feel that inside you are experiencing the progress of the whole Christian religion within one building.


As we walked in Jesus's footsteps, with the knowledge that the real Via Dolorosa may actually be many layers below, I felt that I was closer to appreciating the strong feelings of the people here. I understand that Jerusalem is a place worth fighting for. It's not just a story in a book or a picture in a magazine, but instead somewhere that people have been going for centuries to feel this amazing strength of faith. It's the desire to keep alive the places of pilgrimage for all our children to experience. In Jerusalem, Jews, Muslims, and Christians seemed to have more in common than they have apart.


Considerable

Of course, I abhor many of the methods in this conflict. In the month before we arrived in Israel, two unrelated madmen in separate incidents drove bulldozers into pedestrians and cars in acts of terrorism, killing several before being shot by civilians and police. Not only a reminder of the constant threat of violence, but also of the number of civilians that carry concealed guns. Sensing the desperation these attacks demonstrated, I seriously considered cancelling my trip to Israel. To add to this, these two incidents brought back into my mind a heart-wrenching play I saw at the Edinburgh Festival in 2006 called My Name is Rachel Corrie, a true story about an American volunteer is killed by an Israeli bulldozer while working as an activist in the Gaza Strip.

It was one of the most difficult decisions I've had to make. I followed the news closely and finally made up my mind to go, with the view that these incidents 1) could have occurred in some fashion in any city; 2) did not indicate the kind of widespread violence that I felt I should avoid. Thankfully, this was correct and we had an incident-free trip.

Well, almost. It was almost our last stop in the city when I made my second big cultural mistake. We had been touring Israel for several days, but were yet to actually enter any synagogues. I imagined there had to be some amazing ones in Jerusalem -- if not here, then where?? Our guidebook and tourist map both had no synagogues on them, so we wandered around until we found the King David Museum. Surely this man could tell us where to find a magnificent synagogue. As it turns out, he was from Alabama, and to my surprise he responded, "Well, what kinda synagogue are ya'll looking' fer?"


He directs us to a site in the New Town (this must be the area outside the Old Town) called The Jerusalem Great Synagogue. Perfect. So we hop in a taxi and have a brief conversation about the difference between Protestant and Catholic beliefs. I ramble on about the role and authority of the Pope, when our Palestinian taxi driver politely asks if he can chime in. He describes that the Protestants believe that study of the Bible is the source of God's word, while Catholics believe that both the Bible and the Roman Catholic tradition are of equal value. I hadn't expected to be taking a taxi to the Great Synagogue and have my understanding of the sects of Christianity clarified by a Palestinian man.

When we arrive at the large, modern building, we find a lobby with a number of recent photographs and Jewish artifacts. But we see no obvious way into a main room, and no one seems to be around to help. Eventually, a young man strolls through and I stop him to ask for directions.

"Excuse me, sorry to bother you."

"Yes, how can I help."

"Well, we are here and were hoping to have a look around The Great Mosque...er...um...sorry... The Great Synagogue...um...and we don't see a way in."

I held my breath and my face turned bright red. I felt that I'd just dropped the biggest insult possible in his holiest temple in the most war torn city in the world. To my relief, he acted as if I had not made any mistake at all, and simply explained that visitors were only allowed in from 9am to 1pm and if I returned tomorrow morning, I'd probably have more luck. Phew. I thanked him profusely and he graciously smiled and continued on his way.

As I watched him go, Patricia goaded me about my ridiculous misstep and we made our way outside. I compared his reaction to that of the people on the Nile river cruise who took strong objection to my mistake there. Perhaps one was worse than the other, but clearly I regretted both and did my best to take them back. To me, the main difference was the way it was handled. The Israeli man kept his cool, I assume recognizing me as an exhausted and confused backpacker, giving me the benefit of the doubt. The Egyptian wanted to throw me in the Nile. I'm sure you can guess which I preferred.



Sadly, with Jerusalem finished it was time for Patricia to head back to London and for me to spend a few weeks on my own. We set the alarm for 2am and walked out into the night to find a cab. Luck smiled on us and a friendly Greek woman who was near the taxi stand had called a car already and offered to let us tag along. I've never seen any place so busy at 4am as the Tel Aviv airport. Head drooping, I said goodbye to Patricia and boarded the plane for one final stop in the Middle East - Dubai.

Confused on Election Day

Confused on Election Day - Night of Nov 4, 2008


Hi blog readers,

A letter from the editor here. Since a lot of my posts are written in a more formal style, I thought tonight I'd relax a little and speak directly to the people out there. All you good folks.

Hello people. It's Election Day. Though I'm in Hong Kong right now, so for me it's already Election Night. But I won't find out the results until mid-afternoon on the day after Election Day, instead of the usual in the middle of the night on Election Night. And it got an hour even more different than usual because the US still does this strange thing called Daylight Savings, and most of Asia doesn't do that. Why is that still going anyway? I think getting rid of Daylight Savings should be on the ballot this year.

Anyway, my point is when you are in Hong Kong, America's Election Day is confusing. I already mailed in my vote (though it's very possible it never arrives and I'll never know); it will be my day is what is normally night so I'll be watching a bleary-eyed Wolf Blitzer over lunch instead of cold pizza; and when it's announced and I cheer (or cry) my coworkers will all just give me strange looks rather than high fives.

So....for me....please go out and vote! No matter who it's for, because it matters. Remember when your Mom used to tell you there were starving kids in 3rd world countries so you should finish your brussels sprouts? And you would say, "so send the leftovers to them!" This is like that, except you are actually able to send the leftovers.

Plus, I heard it releases endolphins. Which must make you smart and able to jump out the water and through hula hoops. Who wouldn't want that??

All the best.

~A Right Minger~

P.S. If you are sitting up late at night and want someone to have witty political banter with, send me an email and I'll call you from the office! Don't tell my boss!




Here's another pic from Africa (Zanzibar) that I never posted, but wanted to here because I love it. I took it from our mini-bus and then turned the camera around to show the kids just before we drove off. We could hear them howling with joy all the way down the road. Thought it fit the slightly silly mode of my post. ;-)