In Asia, a natural synthesis has happened between traditional Asian culture and the hippie culture of the Westerners who travel there. Ravers, Burning Man types, etc., the freaks have music, marijuana, and open minded hedonism in common. In the 60s, pioneers like John Lennon and Ram Dass encouraged people to supplement their diet of sex, drugs and rock&roll with some ancient Eastern spirituality. And so gurus, mantras and TM (Transcendental Meditation was what they called it in the 70s) became household words in the West. Longhaired hippies began to travel in droves, especially to India, Nepal, Bali, and Thailand.

You've got Bob Marley and tie dyes and bellbottoms (the Thais are masters of the bell bottom) and rave aliens and New Age yoga centers and ohm symbols and those Buddha eyes from Nepal.

Thie picture above is of Niels (sp?), a great guy we travelled along with for a time in Cambodia. He grew up in Kuta Beach, Bali. Kuta Beach, back in the 60s, was one of the three K's: Kuta, Katmandu and Khoa San Road, the Bangkok tourist street. Niels learned his English on the streets hustling tourists as a young boy. Now he lives on Khao San doing what lots of hippies do, buying beads, making jewelry, and selling it to richer hippies. (While I was in Thailand, the Native American look was the thing. The Thai dudes looked very good in leather chaps and turquoise silver jewely.) Well I guess by selling jewelry Niels was able to support his lifestyle and also travel around; he even spent one winter living in the Paris subway, just to see if he could do it. We enjoyed hanging out in Niels' local scene in Bangkok.

This picture to the right was taken in the bong hut at a wonderful guesthouse/cafe on the island of Pha-Ngan in Thailand. The place was called Bio's and they made their own delicious yogurt (dairy is a luxury in those parts) and bread (another luxury) and cakes. You could pass endless afternoons in there playing cards or catching up with your journal writing, to a soundtrack of the Doors or Hendrix or the ubiquitous Bob Marley. There was a scenic hut out back that stood on stilts over a green little swamp/lagooon where the guys fed you hits and played guitar. (When I said the words "...in a bong hut in Thailand" to my friend Doron, back home, he knew exactly where I was talking about, having formed an impromptu band there for a month). The cafe workers, on break, would could come into the bong hut with a big old bud, speedily chop it up with a machete on a cutting board, then slam 3 bong hits and go back to work, handing us the rest of the ganja and the bong.