Wed, July 8
5.09 am Thai time
Hi, all, back in Singapore's Chaingi airport. Arrived at Bangkok airport at 9am Tues morning (monday night in the States) and was there for 12 HOURS waiting for my flight which was delayed again and again. Arrived Singapore at 11pm, and now waiting til 9am to head back to LA. It's been fun.
Note to other East Asia virgins like myself: always, ALWAYS travel with your own tp, and never make the mistake of assuming public restrooms will have it on hand. Most upscale places and private bathrooms have the wall-shower pressure washer for your behind, and only use tp to dry off after. However, public places apparently use the drip - dry method unless you're fortunate to have your own supplies on hand.
Look forward to being home again soon. Another 30 hours or so.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Reflection
Because it's raining, and my time to leave is drawing near, I'm sitting here on the patio drinking coffee, watching people, and thinking of the best / worst parts of my trip.
First, the best:
* Watching a storm roll in over the beach, the bright light from the uncovered sun slanting through black clouds to turn the breaking waves into translucent jade and sending diamond shards of spray sparkling across the crest.
* The kids: coming up to poke me in wonder at my pink skin, throwing their arms around me, racing up to hug me on the street, seeing their faces light up when they grasped something.
* Getting the chance to actually live among the community, learn a little of the language, and be so welcomed. I have made some really wonderful friends.
So many other great memories, they crash against one another vying for recognition. Me first! Me first!
* * *
The Hardest Parts:
* Being demoted to "stupid tourist" once again after spending such a great time in Thai Meuang. I don't know exactly what the Thai phrase is, but sure recognize it when I hear it - especially since it's said with the same condescending disgust we in Phoenix use to refer to Snowbirds.
* Walking through the market with Anders my last week there, and on the way back he pointed out the town brothel. Really?? Here?! He answered, and as he was talking about it I couldn't resist looking back in morbid fascination - and horrified recognition as one of "my" kids, a girl of about twelve, stepped out of the doorway to wave at me before she ducked her head and withdrew inside once again.
*One boy came to school one day with a black eye that was visible from across the classroom. It looked like the dark grease smeared by football players to reduce glare. He was one of the rowdier boys, always mock-fighting in the back of the classroom. When he came up to bring me his paper for the ritual smiley face, I made a fist and punched the palm of my hand, and gestured to his eye. He half smiled and nodded - and as he turned away I felt my stomach flip over. What I hadn't seen in the shadows was the bruise that ran from the bottom of his jawline up across his cheekbone and into his hairline at the temple. The worst was the four distinct, black knuckle prints, the mark of a large adult hand.
Babies here are adored, children barely tolerated. I just don't get it.
* Last, the other one that has given me nightmares:
The neighbor's puppy that I had become so attached to came over to see me that last afternoon. She was doing her usual happy-puppy laps of exuberant racing around the yard and into my lap and away again, when suddenly she stopped and squatted... and left a huge pile of what looked like writhing snakes in a pile on the grass. Ewwwwwwwww.
First, the best:
* Watching a storm roll in over the beach, the bright light from the uncovered sun slanting through black clouds to turn the breaking waves into translucent jade and sending diamond shards of spray sparkling across the crest.
* The kids: coming up to poke me in wonder at my pink skin, throwing their arms around me, racing up to hug me on the street, seeing their faces light up when they grasped something.
* Getting the chance to actually live among the community, learn a little of the language, and be so welcomed. I have made some really wonderful friends.
So many other great memories, they crash against one another vying for recognition. Me first! Me first!
* * *
The Hardest Parts:
* Being demoted to "stupid tourist" once again after spending such a great time in Thai Meuang. I don't know exactly what the Thai phrase is, but sure recognize it when I hear it - especially since it's said with the same condescending disgust we in Phoenix use to refer to Snowbirds.
* Walking through the market with Anders my last week there, and on the way back he pointed out the town brothel. Really?? Here?! He answered, and as he was talking about it I couldn't resist looking back in morbid fascination - and horrified recognition as one of "my" kids, a girl of about twelve, stepped out of the doorway to wave at me before she ducked her head and withdrew inside once again.
*One boy came to school one day with a black eye that was visible from across the classroom. It looked like the dark grease smeared by football players to reduce glare. He was one of the rowdier boys, always mock-fighting in the back of the classroom. When he came up to bring me his paper for the ritual smiley face, I made a fist and punched the palm of my hand, and gestured to his eye. He half smiled and nodded - and as he turned away I felt my stomach flip over. What I hadn't seen in the shadows was the bruise that ran from the bottom of his jawline up across his cheekbone and into his hairline at the temple. The worst was the four distinct, black knuckle prints, the mark of a large adult hand.
Babies here are adored, children barely tolerated. I just don't get it.
* Last, the other one that has given me nightmares:
The neighbor's puppy that I had become so attached to came over to see me that last afternoon. She was doing her usual happy-puppy laps of exuberant racing around the yard and into my lap and away again, when suddenly she stopped and squatted... and left a huge pile of what looked like writhing snakes in a pile on the grass. Ewwwwwwwww.
Picture This...
Sunday, July 5
Arrived in Bangkok by bus about 10.30 this morning. Having already been scammed by a taxi driver once, I was wary when I got off and was instantly swarmed by a group of orange-jacketed drivers: "Where you go, Ma-Dammmmm! My sister run guest house, very nice, cheap-cheap!"
I ignored them and dug out the card for Swani Guest House, passed on to me by a fellow traveler at the last place I stayed. {It's about double what I've been paying, but worth it.}
I held up the card and showed it to one confident man who approached. "Tuk-tuk? Tao-roi", I asked. He examined the card, then handed it back to me.
"300 baht."
I took my card back and pocketed it, then hoisted my pack. "Sorry, that's too much, " I told him.
"Ok, ok, for you special price first customer, I drive you 250.
"I don't have that much," I said, and kept walking. He conferred with two or three still clustered, then came back.
"How much you pay," he asked.
I showed him my wallet with its lonely 100bt bill and change. "This is it, this is all I have," I told him. He recoiled, and looked at me in disbelief. "Ok, two hundred," he offered.
I took the bill and change out and held it in my hand. "This. Is. All baht. Mai baht."
He went back to his cronies and conferred again. A heated debate broke out, and I began to suspect maybe I really was asking too much for too little. Finally he jogged back to me holding a young man by the arm and rattled off something, of which all I heard was, "take you okay."
The younger man examined my card closely, then shrugged. He motioned for me to stay put, then jogged off. He appeared a few minutes later as the jackets were buzzing about in a cloud once again, this time wearing a helmet and carrying another... and astride a pink and silver Vespa-type scooter. He smiled and waved for me to hop on, the smile fading a bit as he took in my small backpack, my jumbo sized carrying bag, and the hiker pack strapped to my back that is nearly as big as I am.
For a split second, reason and common sense attempted to put in an appearance, but were squashed by sheer impulse and I climbed aboard -
- and nearly fell over the other side as my pack shifted. With the help of a kindly and slightly amused transit official I got the straps tightened to prevent any further sliding, and climbed back on. My two smaller bags were wedged between his feet on the flat, shelf-like footrest behind the back wheel. A nod of his head, a cloud of blue smoke, and we were off on the moped I called "Flame."
[I would like to add here that he and the other drivers had all read my card, so I assumed that him showing up on a scooter meant this would be a fairly short trip. NOT!!!]
I felt reasonably comfortable, since I have spent a month riding around ThaiMeuang on the backs of all kinds of scooters, on all kinds of terrain, with all kinds of drivers. I have not,however, spent any time at all doing this in TRAFFIC! Whole new type of terror to experience.
Thais are very friendly and outgoing, but touching in public even among longterm couples is not encouraged, so in that way it is a very Hands-Off society. I have learned to be a passenger without touching the driver at all, basically by doing the butt clench where you hope to hell your glutes grab the seat and cling for dear life. Maybe I can't crack a walnut with my behind, but I can hang on through sharp turns with the best of them.
About thirty seconds into it I lost any sense of decorum and did everything but wrap around my driver like a snake, trying my damndest not to fall off every time we cut someone off to make a right across four lanes of left-turning drivers, or into oncoming traffic to pass someone slower. The ten-ton pack felt like it wanted to leap off and take me with it at every corner, speed bump, and cigarette butt we went over.
I wish I had a picture of me on the back of a scooter, pack towering above me, scared to death and loving it.
Arrived in Bangkok by bus about 10.30 this morning. Having already been scammed by a taxi driver once, I was wary when I got off and was instantly swarmed by a group of orange-jacketed drivers: "Where you go, Ma-Dammmmm! My sister run guest house, very nice, cheap-cheap!"
I ignored them and dug out the card for Swani Guest House, passed on to me by a fellow traveler at the last place I stayed. {It's about double what I've been paying, but worth it.}
I held up the card and showed it to one confident man who approached. "Tuk-tuk? Tao-roi", I asked. He examined the card, then handed it back to me.
"300 baht."
I took my card back and pocketed it, then hoisted my pack. "Sorry, that's too much, " I told him.
"Ok, ok, for you special price first customer, I drive you 250.
"I don't have that much," I said, and kept walking. He conferred with two or three still clustered, then came back.
"How much you pay," he asked.
I showed him my wallet with its lonely 100bt bill and change. "This is it, this is all I have," I told him. He recoiled, and looked at me in disbelief. "Ok, two hundred," he offered.
I took the bill and change out and held it in my hand. "This. Is. All baht. Mai baht."
He went back to his cronies and conferred again. A heated debate broke out, and I began to suspect maybe I really was asking too much for too little. Finally he jogged back to me holding a young man by the arm and rattled off something, of which all I heard was, "take you okay."
The younger man examined my card closely, then shrugged. He motioned for me to stay put, then jogged off. He appeared a few minutes later as the jackets were buzzing about in a cloud once again, this time wearing a helmet and carrying another... and astride a pink and silver Vespa-type scooter. He smiled and waved for me to hop on, the smile fading a bit as he took in my small backpack, my jumbo sized carrying bag, and the hiker pack strapped to my back that is nearly as big as I am.
For a split second, reason and common sense attempted to put in an appearance, but were squashed by sheer impulse and I climbed aboard -
- and nearly fell over the other side as my pack shifted. With the help of a kindly and slightly amused transit official I got the straps tightened to prevent any further sliding, and climbed back on. My two smaller bags were wedged between his feet on the flat, shelf-like footrest behind the back wheel. A nod of his head, a cloud of blue smoke, and we were off on the moped I called "Flame."
[I would like to add here that he and the other drivers had all read my card, so I assumed that him showing up on a scooter meant this would be a fairly short trip. NOT!!!]
I felt reasonably comfortable, since I have spent a month riding around ThaiMeuang on the backs of all kinds of scooters, on all kinds of terrain, with all kinds of drivers. I have not,however, spent any time at all doing this in TRAFFIC! Whole new type of terror to experience.
Thais are very friendly and outgoing, but touching in public even among longterm couples is not encouraged, so in that way it is a very Hands-Off society. I have learned to be a passenger without touching the driver at all, basically by doing the butt clench where you hope to hell your glutes grab the seat and cling for dear life. Maybe I can't crack a walnut with my behind, but I can hang on through sharp turns with the best of them.
About thirty seconds into it I lost any sense of decorum and did everything but wrap around my driver like a snake, trying my damndest not to fall off every time we cut someone off to make a right across four lanes of left-turning drivers, or into oncoming traffic to pass someone slower. The ten-ton pack felt like it wanted to leap off and take me with it at every corner, speed bump, and cigarette butt we went over.
I wish I had a picture of me on the back of a scooter, pack towering above me, scared to death and loving it.
Aging Gracefully
Spent two days in Sukothai and another two in Ayutthaya, exploring the ruins. Sukothai is the most easily accesible of the two, as the Old City is a bit outside the city limits. One entrance fee and bike rental allows unlimited exploration within the Heritage Site, even though it is transected by canals and roadways.
Ayutthaya,on the other hand, has grown up and around and among the ruins and is a bustling full-blown commercial city that incidentally happens to have historic sites scattered here and there. Like many other tourist destinations, many of its citizens are markedly less friendly toward foreigners -- have heard numerous stories of travelers being deliberately misdirected when asking for directions, etc. From my own experience, when asked for admission ticket into the first several sites I visited, I asked if there were a ticket that would allow me into more than 1 site, and was told no- repeatedly. At the fourth one, there was a large banner showing the tickets available... including one which would allow entry into any 6 sites, for about what I had paid for only 3.
Sukothai has an air of reverance about it for all those who came before and left behind these substantial memorials. It is easy to visualize the layout of the entire metropolitan complex, judging on how the remaining buildings were placed. There are a few statues left, but most objects of any importance were removed by the state after robbers looted one of the prime caches in the 1950's. Only a tiny handful of their stolen treasures were ever recovered, which is a historical tragedy as the few that remain are evidence of incredible detail and value.
Ayutthaya lacks some of the reverence, but has more majesty just due to the sheer size of manyof the buildings. One of the smaller palaces is mostly still standing, and most of its walls and pediments are still intact. It is a little overwhelming to walk down the hallways that were once the main worship and civic center several hundred years ago. I could almost imagine hearing the swish of robes as I walked through one of the monasteries. The scent of incense burning at the shrines only adds to the illusion.
My favorite sites at Ayutthaya were two of the most famous. One is a temple constructed by a prince to house the remains of his father and the ashes of his two brothers who fought and killed each other in a battle for the throne. When officials opened one of the chedis, they discovered an intact stairway leading to the tiny belowground storage chamber. The walls and ceiling are painted with still-visible red and gold leaf, showing details of Buddha's life.
The other is Wat Maha Taht, the largest and most elaborate structure. Several of the towering chedis are decorated with figures from the Ramakien (the Thai version of the Hindu / Indian Ramayana, the mythology of Rama). One of the most intriguing objects is the head of a sandstone Buddha outside of the temple structure it presumably came from. An ancient Bodhi tree has grown up and around it, leaving this beautiful face peering out from a curtain of roots surrounding it. Rainwater has etched lines through the grime over the years, leaving light colored tracks like traces of tears across one cheek.
Ayutthaya,on the other hand, has grown up and around and among the ruins and is a bustling full-blown commercial city that incidentally happens to have historic sites scattered here and there. Like many other tourist destinations, many of its citizens are markedly less friendly toward foreigners -- have heard numerous stories of travelers being deliberately misdirected when asking for directions, etc. From my own experience, when asked for admission ticket into the first several sites I visited, I asked if there were a ticket that would allow me into more than 1 site, and was told no- repeatedly. At the fourth one, there was a large banner showing the tickets available... including one which would allow entry into any 6 sites, for about what I had paid for only 3.
Sukothai has an air of reverance about it for all those who came before and left behind these substantial memorials. It is easy to visualize the layout of the entire metropolitan complex, judging on how the remaining buildings were placed. There are a few statues left, but most objects of any importance were removed by the state after robbers looted one of the prime caches in the 1950's. Only a tiny handful of their stolen treasures were ever recovered, which is a historical tragedy as the few that remain are evidence of incredible detail and value.
Ayutthaya lacks some of the reverence, but has more majesty just due to the sheer size of manyof the buildings. One of the smaller palaces is mostly still standing, and most of its walls and pediments are still intact. It is a little overwhelming to walk down the hallways that were once the main worship and civic center several hundred years ago. I could almost imagine hearing the swish of robes as I walked through one of the monasteries. The scent of incense burning at the shrines only adds to the illusion.
My favorite sites at Ayutthaya were two of the most famous. One is a temple constructed by a prince to house the remains of his father and the ashes of his two brothers who fought and killed each other in a battle for the throne. When officials opened one of the chedis, they discovered an intact stairway leading to the tiny belowground storage chamber. The walls and ceiling are painted with still-visible red and gold leaf, showing details of Buddha's life.
The other is Wat Maha Taht, the largest and most elaborate structure. Several of the towering chedis are decorated with figures from the Ramakien (the Thai version of the Hindu / Indian Ramayana, the mythology of Rama). One of the most intriguing objects is the head of a sandstone Buddha outside of the temple structure it presumably came from. An ancient Bodhi tree has grown up and around it, leaving this beautiful face peering out from a curtain of roots surrounding it. Rainwater has etched lines through the grime over the years, leaving light colored tracks like traces of tears across one cheek.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Dissing the Illusion
Have come to the conclusion that I would much rather be a traveler and experience the world than a tourist who just photographs it. Have also come to the conclusion that I'm not crazy about touring by myself.
Chiang Mai has a reputation for being the craftmanship place of Northern Thailand. The materials for sale in any of the three main markets - Wororot, Sunday Market, and Night Market - are beautiful and certainly inexpensive according to the exchange rate. I found some cool stuff, but had a really hard time getting into the whole bargaining atmosphere because the work is of such good quality and because I felt guilty for taking advantage of how desperate they are to sell anything. I'm sure I paid more than I could have in some instances, but still got some smokin' deals. The two things I REALLY wanted were more than I was comfortable spending and I had no way to get them home.
Made it up to the temple of Doi Suthep. Built on the mountain, the temple is visible from the city below - especially when the sun glints off of the gilded chedi and the four parasols around it. One of the most striking features is the 300-step staircase flanked by giant Naga (snake) figures. After that we went to a hilltribe village to see their museum and learn about their lifestyle. My guide is originally from the Lisu tribe, so he was very informative. Finally, for another hundred baht he drove me to a location known as The Old City. In 1984 this area was being developed by relatively expensive homes when the builders discovered some ruins that are believed to date back to about 900 ad. One of the landowners donated the land, and now it is a historic site. There are about 5 temples, and evidence that this was where the original capitol was until a catastrophic flood destroyed it. The people simply relocated to the present location, and no one knew anything about the old city until a few decades ago. There are indications of many more ruins but unfortunately land disputes have prevented them from being unearthed.
I spent a whole day just walking around the older part of the city and exploring. I looked for a book on Chiang Mai history, but there was nothing available in English. For a relatively small city, there are temples Everywhere. Some are fascinating, like the one with a chedi atop a base surrounded by elephants; or the one decorated with dancing women that houses the oldest library of Buddhist materials in the city, if not the entire country. One was as elaborately carved and decorated as all the rest but not stuccoed and gilded; left in its natural teak. Beautiful! I'm looking forward to getting home and uploading pics of everything, so check back in a couple of weeks.
When I was burned out on gold leaf I wandered around for a while and got the idea for soemthing to take home. Couldn't make myself understood, and inadvertently offended a couple of people until I happened to run across an English - speaking man who just returned after 30 years in Chicago. His daughter owns a shop and while she didn't have what I was looking for, he wrote down the Thai phrase I needed, then offered me a ride on his scooter to the downtown area where I might find what I was looking for. That was awesome ... until I realized I was outside the walled city, the older part; in Chinatown; and had absolutely no idea where I was or how the heck to get back. Plus, that was the first time I was really made to feel like an unwelcome intruder. In any case, I finally came across the Night Market and was able to find my way from there: I hired a tuk-tuk.
I met several great people in the last few days: Maria, the young German woman who will be working at the School For Life here (it is the affiliate school of the one Net works at in the South); three young people from Scotland who invited me to have a beer and suck at pool with them; three Veterinary students from Ohio; Jack and Jess who referred me to the guesthouse where I'll be staying in Sukothai; Roger, the man who gave me a lift to Chinatown; Mr. T, who gave me a guided tour to Doi Suthep, the Hmong village, and the Old City; the woman who lives in Japan but is returning to take care of her ailing mother... so many really interesting people.
* * *
Transportation is interesting. There are several varieties of bus, depending on where you're going and how much you're willing to spend to get there. Once you've arrived at your destination city you can take a sangthaew, tuk-tuk, or city bus.
Sangthaews are simply pickup trucks with a seat on each side of the bed and a covered canopy. Of the older ones, they are almost uniformly 1980 and older and Datsuns, but seem to be in fairly good running order. The newer ones are almost all Fords and Toyotas, although Isuzu is the brand of choice for personal vehicles.
Tuk-tuks are three-wheeled covered motorbikes which sound like they run on lawnmower engines. They're a relatively cheap and convenient ride, if you can stand the fumes.
So far my feet have been my best ride, but I'm heading to Sukothai for some exploring tomorrow. I understand the ruins are spread across a 14-km area, so maybe I'll hire a driver.
Happy 4th of July, everyone!
Chiang Mai has a reputation for being the craftmanship place of Northern Thailand. The materials for sale in any of the three main markets - Wororot, Sunday Market, and Night Market - are beautiful and certainly inexpensive according to the exchange rate. I found some cool stuff, but had a really hard time getting into the whole bargaining atmosphere because the work is of such good quality and because I felt guilty for taking advantage of how desperate they are to sell anything. I'm sure I paid more than I could have in some instances, but still got some smokin' deals. The two things I REALLY wanted were more than I was comfortable spending and I had no way to get them home.
Made it up to the temple of Doi Suthep. Built on the mountain, the temple is visible from the city below - especially when the sun glints off of the gilded chedi and the four parasols around it. One of the most striking features is the 300-step staircase flanked by giant Naga (snake) figures. After that we went to a hilltribe village to see their museum and learn about their lifestyle. My guide is originally from the Lisu tribe, so he was very informative. Finally, for another hundred baht he drove me to a location known as The Old City. In 1984 this area was being developed by relatively expensive homes when the builders discovered some ruins that are believed to date back to about 900 ad. One of the landowners donated the land, and now it is a historic site. There are about 5 temples, and evidence that this was where the original capitol was until a catastrophic flood destroyed it. The people simply relocated to the present location, and no one knew anything about the old city until a few decades ago. There are indications of many more ruins but unfortunately land disputes have prevented them from being unearthed.
I spent a whole day just walking around the older part of the city and exploring. I looked for a book on Chiang Mai history, but there was nothing available in English. For a relatively small city, there are temples Everywhere. Some are fascinating, like the one with a chedi atop a base surrounded by elephants; or the one decorated with dancing women that houses the oldest library of Buddhist materials in the city, if not the entire country. One was as elaborately carved and decorated as all the rest but not stuccoed and gilded; left in its natural teak. Beautiful! I'm looking forward to getting home and uploading pics of everything, so check back in a couple of weeks.
When I was burned out on gold leaf I wandered around for a while and got the idea for soemthing to take home. Couldn't make myself understood, and inadvertently offended a couple of people until I happened to run across an English - speaking man who just returned after 30 years in Chicago. His daughter owns a shop and while she didn't have what I was looking for, he wrote down the Thai phrase I needed, then offered me a ride on his scooter to the downtown area where I might find what I was looking for. That was awesome ... until I realized I was outside the walled city, the older part; in Chinatown; and had absolutely no idea where I was or how the heck to get back. Plus, that was the first time I was really made to feel like an unwelcome intruder. In any case, I finally came across the Night Market and was able to find my way from there: I hired a tuk-tuk.
I met several great people in the last few days: Maria, the young German woman who will be working at the School For Life here (it is the affiliate school of the one Net works at in the South); three young people from Scotland who invited me to have a beer and suck at pool with them; three Veterinary students from Ohio; Jack and Jess who referred me to the guesthouse where I'll be staying in Sukothai; Roger, the man who gave me a lift to Chinatown; Mr. T, who gave me a guided tour to Doi Suthep, the Hmong village, and the Old City; the woman who lives in Japan but is returning to take care of her ailing mother... so many really interesting people.
* * *
Transportation is interesting. There are several varieties of bus, depending on where you're going and how much you're willing to spend to get there. Once you've arrived at your destination city you can take a sangthaew, tuk-tuk, or city bus.
Sangthaews are simply pickup trucks with a seat on each side of the bed and a covered canopy. Of the older ones, they are almost uniformly 1980 and older and Datsuns, but seem to be in fairly good running order. The newer ones are almost all Fords and Toyotas, although Isuzu is the brand of choice for personal vehicles.
Tuk-tuks are three-wheeled covered motorbikes which sound like they run on lawnmower engines. They're a relatively cheap and convenient ride, if you can stand the fumes.
So far my feet have been my best ride, but I'm heading to Sukothai for some exploring tomorrow. I understand the ruins are spread across a 14-km area, so maybe I'll hire a driver.
Happy 4th of July, everyone!
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Hi again
Nope, haven't fallen off the planet or into a vat of green curry and eaten myself to death. Been on the road since Thursday afternoon and just now coming back to life.
Had an issue with getting paperwork in time to process my Visa before I left, so it didn't get done. No big deal really, just meant I only had 30 days before leaving the country, so I did what is called "The Visa Run". Tia picked me up at 1pm Thurs afternoon and drove me up the coast to Rangon, about 3 hours away. Stayed at a place called the Kiwi Orchid that was really scary looking at first glance (and second and third too...) First time I've ever been in a place with communal toilet, and I wasn't about to chance the shower -- it was right behind the washing machine, and no door!!
On the other hand it was affordable, the food there was absolutely excellent, and the three sisters who run the place were some of the kindest people I have ever met.
Got up at 6 the next morning so I could get a ride to the pier, check out at Immigration and catch a long-tail bus to Myanmar (Burma) to get my passport stamped, which would allow me another two weeks in Thailand. That was not the most fun I've ever had. Myanmar is desperate for American currency, so they demand $10 US dollars from each person (definitely reasonable). However, they want brand new money, which can realistically only be gotten from Phuket if you don't know in advance to bring it with you. By the grace of God I had a new $10 bill in my wallet, which I had just gotten from the Phoenix bank on my way to LA.
I waited to hand over my passport and my money, and it was refused. Sometime in its short lifetime, my bill had gotten an infinitessimally small puncture wound - looked like perhaps it had been poked with a pin or caught by one end of a staple. And the official refused it. Now, Phuket is more than 4 hours south of Rangon, so this was a big deal.
After way more drama than necessary, a "kindly observer" stepped in and offered to interpret. He said they would accept 500 baht instead (about 200 more than the exchange rate on a ten). Aside from the unbroken thousand-baht bills stashed in my money belt all I the loose cash I had was 400 and a couple of 1-baht pieces, which they accepted and let me go (probably to get me out of his crew-cropped hair.) When I stepped through the doorway I looked back to see the two officials and the "passerby" engaged in a round of cards.
The ride to and from Myanmar was interesting. Twice the boat boys gathered up all the passports from all six of us passengers; then edged up to a lonely hut balanced precariously on stilts. The boys would scramble up the rickety scaffolding like monkeys then return a few minutes later. Have no idea what that was all about; just glad to get it back in my pocket again.
I got back to the Kiwi at a few minutes past ten, and my ride pointed out the bus station at the end of the block. I had plenty of time to go up and load my stuff then get to the terminal to catch the 10.30 bus to Bangkok; and from there the overnight bus to Chiang Mai.
As it happened, in what may be the first time in Thai history, the bus left about ten minutes early. So, I went back to the Kiwi and ordered breakfast, then settled in to wait until the next one, at 1.30. One of the other visitors there was a Canadian who has spent quite a bit of time in both Laos and Thailand, and we talked for quite a while. He had quite a bit of good information to share, and had stayed at the Kiwi several times. At one o'clock one of the bus officials came over to announce that there were only three passengers, so we weren't leaving until 3 pm. By this time I was getting a bit anxious, as I was not looking forward to arriving in Bangkok in the middle of the night and trying to find a safe and inexpensive place to stay. Jai went over to talk to them, and came back to let me know that she had already taken care of rebooking my trip (so they couldn't charge me again) and that the bus would come by and get me at her place so that I wouldn't have to haul my huge pack down there again.
She is so funny - we took pictures of ourselves and each other, and Dave offered to take one of me with the sisters. Just as he took the photo she tickled me, so she and I are both laughing. I have met some of the most amazing people ever on this trip.
The bus was an older model, but at least had air conditioning. When they arrived to pick me up I was relieved to find it wasn't crowded (there were only about four other passengers), and the seats were relatively comfortable. For the first few hours, anyway. By the time we got to Bangkok I didn't think I'd ever have feeling in my behind again. I waited at the South terminal until their ticket office opened at 5am. One Thai man saw me writing in my book and paused to watch; he hasn't seen a lot of English writing and apparently it looks as odd to him as the Thai writing does to me. He kept coming back to check on me, and as it got later he got more and more comfortable talking with me - and, through a younger man interpreting, asked for my phone number. I told him I was meeting my husband in Bangkok. Have to give him credit for trying - when the time came to go catch a short bus to the Morchit terminal across town, he helped me with my bag and offered to show me where to go. When I stood up, he barely came to my shoulder. In the States I would have assumed he was a jockey.
The Morchit terminal was either really confusing, or I was so sleep-deprived I couldn't make sense of it. Completely by accident I walked directly up to the Chiang Mai window and bought what I thought was a "VIP" ticket. It wasn't, it was first class (yes there's a fairly substantial difference) but in any case it was much less than the VEEP and the bus I got was new, airconditioned, non-smoking (YAYYYY!!!) and I got a seat on the top deck, in the front row with plenty of room to stretch. It was a beautiful drive, too.
I got a sangtheow to drive me to the guest house I had found online. I was very surprised to see a TON of people milling about when I got there, and they only had dorm-style rooms left. The girl at the desk said there were many other guesthouses in this area, but that this one just happened to be one of the best-known among young farang backpackers etc. She suggested I go either way down the lane, and that I would find many to choose from. Just two doors down I discovered "JJ Place" which is a new, modern facility. Have my own bathroom (YAY!!!!!) with hot water, even; and the proprietor goes out of his way to be helpful. He even speaks English well, and is taking me to Doi Suthep himself tomorrow for a tour of the countryside, the temple, and the Hmong village there.
It would be nice sometimes to have company to share some of this with, but some of the things and people I have come across may not have happened if I were not on my own. Still, I am looking forward to a hot BATH when I get home. And no ants.
Had an issue with getting paperwork in time to process my Visa before I left, so it didn't get done. No big deal really, just meant I only had 30 days before leaving the country, so I did what is called "The Visa Run". Tia picked me up at 1pm Thurs afternoon and drove me up the coast to Rangon, about 3 hours away. Stayed at a place called the Kiwi Orchid that was really scary looking at first glance (and second and third too...) First time I've ever been in a place with communal toilet, and I wasn't about to chance the shower -- it was right behind the washing machine, and no door!!
On the other hand it was affordable, the food there was absolutely excellent, and the three sisters who run the place were some of the kindest people I have ever met.
Got up at 6 the next morning so I could get a ride to the pier, check out at Immigration and catch a long-tail bus to Myanmar (Burma) to get my passport stamped, which would allow me another two weeks in Thailand. That was not the most fun I've ever had. Myanmar is desperate for American currency, so they demand $10 US dollars from each person (definitely reasonable). However, they want brand new money, which can realistically only be gotten from Phuket if you don't know in advance to bring it with you. By the grace of God I had a new $10 bill in my wallet, which I had just gotten from the Phoenix bank on my way to LA.
I waited to hand over my passport and my money, and it was refused. Sometime in its short lifetime, my bill had gotten an infinitessimally small puncture wound - looked like perhaps it had been poked with a pin or caught by one end of a staple. And the official refused it. Now, Phuket is more than 4 hours south of Rangon, so this was a big deal.
After way more drama than necessary, a "kindly observer" stepped in and offered to interpret. He said they would accept 500 baht instead (about 200 more than the exchange rate on a ten). Aside from the unbroken thousand-baht bills stashed in my money belt all I the loose cash I had was 400 and a couple of 1-baht pieces, which they accepted and let me go (probably to get me out of his crew-cropped hair.) When I stepped through the doorway I looked back to see the two officials and the "passerby" engaged in a round of cards.
The ride to and from Myanmar was interesting. Twice the boat boys gathered up all the passports from all six of us passengers; then edged up to a lonely hut balanced precariously on stilts. The boys would scramble up the rickety scaffolding like monkeys then return a few minutes later. Have no idea what that was all about; just glad to get it back in my pocket again.
I got back to the Kiwi at a few minutes past ten, and my ride pointed out the bus station at the end of the block. I had plenty of time to go up and load my stuff then get to the terminal to catch the 10.30 bus to Bangkok; and from there the overnight bus to Chiang Mai.
As it happened, in what may be the first time in Thai history, the bus left about ten minutes early. So, I went back to the Kiwi and ordered breakfast, then settled in to wait until the next one, at 1.30. One of the other visitors there was a Canadian who has spent quite a bit of time in both Laos and Thailand, and we talked for quite a while. He had quite a bit of good information to share, and had stayed at the Kiwi several times. At one o'clock one of the bus officials came over to announce that there were only three passengers, so we weren't leaving until 3 pm. By this time I was getting a bit anxious, as I was not looking forward to arriving in Bangkok in the middle of the night and trying to find a safe and inexpensive place to stay. Jai went over to talk to them, and came back to let me know that she had already taken care of rebooking my trip (so they couldn't charge me again) and that the bus would come by and get me at her place so that I wouldn't have to haul my huge pack down there again.
She is so funny - we took pictures of ourselves and each other, and Dave offered to take one of me with the sisters. Just as he took the photo she tickled me, so she and I are both laughing. I have met some of the most amazing people ever on this trip.
The bus was an older model, but at least had air conditioning. When they arrived to pick me up I was relieved to find it wasn't crowded (there were only about four other passengers), and the seats were relatively comfortable. For the first few hours, anyway. By the time we got to Bangkok I didn't think I'd ever have feeling in my behind again. I waited at the South terminal until their ticket office opened at 5am. One Thai man saw me writing in my book and paused to watch; he hasn't seen a lot of English writing and apparently it looks as odd to him as the Thai writing does to me. He kept coming back to check on me, and as it got later he got more and more comfortable talking with me - and, through a younger man interpreting, asked for my phone number. I told him I was meeting my husband in Bangkok. Have to give him credit for trying - when the time came to go catch a short bus to the Morchit terminal across town, he helped me with my bag and offered to show me where to go. When I stood up, he barely came to my shoulder. In the States I would have assumed he was a jockey.
The Morchit terminal was either really confusing, or I was so sleep-deprived I couldn't make sense of it. Completely by accident I walked directly up to the Chiang Mai window and bought what I thought was a "VIP" ticket. It wasn't, it was first class (yes there's a fairly substantial difference) but in any case it was much less than the VEEP and the bus I got was new, airconditioned, non-smoking (YAYYYY!!!) and I got a seat on the top deck, in the front row with plenty of room to stretch. It was a beautiful drive, too.
I got a sangtheow to drive me to the guest house I had found online. I was very surprised to see a TON of people milling about when I got there, and they only had dorm-style rooms left. The girl at the desk said there were many other guesthouses in this area, but that this one just happened to be one of the best-known among young farang backpackers etc. She suggested I go either way down the lane, and that I would find many to choose from. Just two doors down I discovered "JJ Place" which is a new, modern facility. Have my own bathroom (YAY!!!!!) with hot water, even; and the proprietor goes out of his way to be helpful. He even speaks English well, and is taking me to Doi Suthep himself tomorrow for a tour of the countryside, the temple, and the Hmong village there.
It would be nice sometimes to have company to share some of this with, but some of the things and people I have come across may not have happened if I were not on my own. Still, I am looking forward to a hot BATH when I get home. And no ants.
Monday, June 22, 2009
No pics
Hi, all.
Sorry, am having major electronic issues - first with the bank (somehow, it double debits every transaction!!!!!) and now with the internet. Haven't been able to upload pics in weeks, well, no wonder. Found out last night this entire PROVINCE is still on dial-up... and it all blacks out when it rains. Like, several times a week.
Grrrrrrrrr.....
Just hafta share later.
Sorry, am having major electronic issues - first with the bank (somehow, it double debits every transaction!!!!!) and now with the internet. Haven't been able to upload pics in weeks, well, no wonder. Found out last night this entire PROVINCE is still on dial-up... and it all blacks out when it rains. Like, several times a week.
Grrrrrrrrr.....
Just hafta share later.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Thursday's Child [ren]
Between the teachers’ two-day computer conference and being out sick on Wednesday I only got to teach at my school on Thursday, my 5th years and one of the 2nd year classes.
Sometimes the chemistry just clicks, and this was the best day I’ve had yet – or maybe tied with the Bubble day. The 2nd years were a little rambunctious as always, but like most kids they really like being read to and once the books came out, the majority of them settled down, except to scuffle over whose book was read to the class next. These schools give an entirely new meaning to ‘limited resources’ and there aren’t nearly enough materials to go around, so I was pleasantly surprised to find several Thai-English story books in this class. The text is written across the top half of the page in Thai, the bottom in English, with pertinent words highlighted in the same color in each language [tiger = red, elephant = blue, school=green, lunch=orange]. Some of the translations were so odd that I couldn’t even guess what they were trying to approximate, so I just winged it and we all had a good time. Even the rowdiest boys were vying to sit close and be read to.
With both of my fifth years, we worked on some simple letter / sound combinations, and I found a phrase that just had them giggling – or maybe it was my goofy illustrations:
“The CAT got FAT and SAT on his HAT, and made it FLAT…” etc.
It was a good exercise, but sort of limited because, as always, the lesson plan I had put so much thought and effort into went right over their heads and I had to come down a few notches, and then I had that moment where your mind goes completely and totally blank. For the life of me I couldn’t put together more than two or three combinations. We used double “E’s” [Three Bees lived in the Trees and stung my Knees, which made me Sneeze…”] and double “O’s” etc, and the kids got into it.
After that we worked on basic nouns and verbs, and then on combining them. It’s very challenging because like most kids, they are excellent mimics, and can learn to recognize that a combination of letters = a certain pronunciation… but they have absolutely no concept of what that word means. For example, most of them recognize and understand dog, cat, pig, bird, boy, girl, teacher, student, car, house… and can “read” [more like verbalize on command] the words read, jump, run, sit, stand, sleep … but when it comes to actually comprehending the action those words represent, they don’t always see the connection.
Sometimes I feel like Helen Keller’s teacher fumbling to express a concept in the dark, but then one will get it and it’s so awesome to see the light go on. The best thing about these kids is that even when they get frustrated, even when I’m not making things clear, they still like this. They like me, which never ceases to amaze me. One boy gave me a toy I had seen him playing with earlier, a little gecko made out of beads strung together; a girl brought me a little artificial flower with a wire stem and made me sit still while she wrapped it around the frame of my glasses to hold it on. They are so sweet, and so open. I hope that just one of them realizes there is a whole world waiting for them outside of this town, this province.
It didn’t even hit me until afterwards that this was the last time I get to see these guys since I leave next Wednesday. It is almost unbearable to know that off all the bright, sweet, loving kids I have met, so many face a future of poverty or prostitution for survival. Heartbreaking.
Sometimes the chemistry just clicks, and this was the best day I’ve had yet – or maybe tied with the Bubble day. The 2nd years were a little rambunctious as always, but like most kids they really like being read to and once the books came out, the majority of them settled down, except to scuffle over whose book was read to the class next. These schools give an entirely new meaning to ‘limited resources’ and there aren’t nearly enough materials to go around, so I was pleasantly surprised to find several Thai-English story books in this class. The text is written across the top half of the page in Thai, the bottom in English, with pertinent words highlighted in the same color in each language [tiger = red, elephant = blue, school=green, lunch=orange]. Some of the translations were so odd that I couldn’t even guess what they were trying to approximate, so I just winged it and we all had a good time. Even the rowdiest boys were vying to sit close and be read to.
With both of my fifth years, we worked on some simple letter / sound combinations, and I found a phrase that just had them giggling – or maybe it was my goofy illustrations:
“The CAT got FAT and SAT on his HAT, and made it FLAT…” etc.
It was a good exercise, but sort of limited because, as always, the lesson plan I had put so much thought and effort into went right over their heads and I had to come down a few notches, and then I had that moment where your mind goes completely and totally blank. For the life of me I couldn’t put together more than two or three combinations. We used double “E’s” [Three Bees lived in the Trees and stung my Knees, which made me Sneeze…”] and double “O’s” etc, and the kids got into it.
After that we worked on basic nouns and verbs, and then on combining them. It’s very challenging because like most kids, they are excellent mimics, and can learn to recognize that a combination of letters = a certain pronunciation… but they have absolutely no concept of what that word means. For example, most of them recognize and understand dog, cat, pig, bird, boy, girl, teacher, student, car, house… and can “read” [more like verbalize on command] the words read, jump, run, sit, stand, sleep … but when it comes to actually comprehending the action those words represent, they don’t always see the connection.
Sometimes I feel like Helen Keller’s teacher fumbling to express a concept in the dark, but then one will get it and it’s so awesome to see the light go on. The best thing about these kids is that even when they get frustrated, even when I’m not making things clear, they still like this. They like me, which never ceases to amaze me. One boy gave me a toy I had seen him playing with earlier, a little gecko made out of beads strung together; a girl brought me a little artificial flower with a wire stem and made me sit still while she wrapped it around the frame of my glasses to hold it on. They are so sweet, and so open. I hope that just one of them realizes there is a whole world waiting for them outside of this town, this province.
It didn’t even hit me until afterwards that this was the last time I get to see these guys since I leave next Wednesday. It is almost unbearable to know that off all the bright, sweet, loving kids I have met, so many face a future of poverty or prostitution for survival. Heartbreaking.
Dragons, and Elephants, and Fruit Bats - OH MY!!
The “jungle trek” listed in the brochure was, in reality, simply the most convenient way to get to the entrance of the cave which was next on the agenda. After the incident with the clumsy chipmunk, I wasn’t sorry when we reached our destination sooner than expected. The jungle is beautiful – and I am eternally grateful to have had a wonderful guide – but I’d had quite enough “hands-on” (or heads-up) nature for one day.
We hiked up an incline against sheer rock jutting out of the jungle around us, and I noticed a fissure with a face-like formation. Nasser nodded, and said that was where we were going. As we got closer, what looked like a small cluster of rock was actually an opening about twelve feet high. The outermost rock was green and black from moss and age, and there was a deep layer of powdery dirt at my feet. Truthfully, I was a little bit disappointed; this looked like maybe an interesting rock or two but nothing terribly special.
Nasser pointed to an area just about knee height, and explained that millions of years ago, this was all underwater. Embedded there was the evidence; shells suspended in solid rock. He had knelt down to point out some of the fossils and froze for a moment, studying the soft dirt. He stood but remained focused, not answering when I tentatively asked if everything was all right. After a moment he relaxed again, and motioned that I follow him. He pointed to the ground and showed me tracks that resembled those of a large dog going into the cave through a narrow opening – the one we were meant to be entering. He then pointed to the other wall, where the tracks exited. He just wanted to make sure it had left before we went in.
We ducked the low overhang and squeezed sideways into the first chamber beyond the entrance. The dim light coming in was enough to show the remains of something small, white, and fluffy. Nasser said it had feet like a dog, but the face of a deer. Not sure whether he meant the diner or the dinner.
I made a comment to the effect that I was glad this room was all there was to the cave, as I get a little claustrophobic and liked that we could still see light from outside. He grew serious and led me around a curve in what I had thought was a solid wall. He warned me that this was it for the outside light from this point on; that the cave continued completely through the mountain, and it would take at minimum thirty to forty minutes to go the whole length so if I wanted to stop now, I could. To further make his point, he shut off the headlamp to give me an idea of what it would be like if the light failed. He turned it on again immediately, and asked what I wanted to do. I told him there was no way I could stand to be under a mountain with no light, and that I didn’t think I could go through with this. He simply nodded and said okay, but maybe I would like to see this one thing first?
We went through another low passage, this one on our knees, and entered into a very large chamber. I could hear the chirping and chattering of bats and the whoosh of their wings as a few took flight for a moment, startled by our light and presence. It was a large cavern probably about forty feet wide and high with a startling array of stalagmites and stalactites, some of which had met up to form thick columns from floor to ceiling. At the center right was an especially thick one that widened into a broad platform about four feet from the floor, and about four feet in diameter.
Up until this point, all the formations had been varying shades of brown and grey, as was the platform itself. Behind it however was a striped ‘curtain’ which even appeared to be billowing. At the center stood a blindingly white protrusion. With one eye closed and a little imagination, it resembled a small temple, complete with a chedi (tower).
Nasser stood and watched as I took several photos. “If you like, there’s one this way I think you will like,” he said as he pointed through an archway that led into another area. I shrugged and figured we weren’t too far from the opening, I may as well.
He led me into the next room and shone his light onto the massive protrusion that nearly divided the area. “This is the Elephant Chamber,” he told me. I must have had a blank look on my face, because he indicated that I should move back and to the side a few paces to get a better effect, then turned the lamp towards it again. Wow, from this angle it looked like a life sized elephant’s head coming down from the low ceiling; trunk, ears, and all. There wasn’t enough room to get the right camera angle, but I still have that image in my mind. It was so incredibly lifelike, I felt that I might catch the trunk twitch out of the corner of my eye.
“Beautiful, yes?” he asked. I couldn’t stop staring. After a few minutes he gently reminded me that I could turn back, but if I wished we could go on “just into the next area to see the new, growing stalagmites, about five minutes.” Of course I agreed.
He led me through a maze of massive tree trunk formations and then cautioned me to duck my head – we were entering an area with sharp, spear-point stalactites hanging down waiting to impale or decapitate the unwary. One of them bore a striking resemblance to a giant shark’s tooth. Around a bend he paused and shone his light on an opening before us.
A brilliant sparkle reflected back as if the walls were set with thousands of tiny diamonds. He swept the light across the room, and it was bounced back from every direction. “The nursery,” he said and winked at me. I stepped through an archway and for a moment I imagined this is what it would be like to see stars up close if I were able to reach up and touch the heavens. Millions of fragile crystals hung like snowflakes everywhere I looked. On some of the larger ones, the rock walls and stalactites appeared to have been dipped in shredded coconut. Nasser wasn’t sure of the chemical makeup of these crystals, but they were obviously different from everything else we had seen.
From here we went back out onto the main ‘trail’, and he paused to verify that I wanted to continue, although there may be bats ahead [Couldn’t be worse than the damned chipmunk, right?]. The path through the rock widened as we entered the largest room thus far. Powerful as it was, the headlight Nasser was carrying didn’t even come close to penetrating the darkness that stretched above and ahead of us, which was a little unsettling. I could again hear the chirps and rustling of wings as the bats reacted to our presence.
Nasser led me across a shallow stream – more a line of damp rock – and we came to an ancient wooden ladder leaning against the side of the cavern. I could see a darker shadow near the top, but it didn’t look deep enough to be another room. I thought perhaps there was something interesting in the alcove, so I just nodded when he tuned to look at me questioningly. He again offered to turn back, but said that if I chose to continue it would be better to complete the journey as we were already nearly half way through the mountain. He cautioned me that the next area was a little tricky to get to and that many of the people he led did not continue past where we currently were – and rarely did he take anyone into the ‘nursery,’ as it was such a fragile environment. Since I was alone and seemed to have enough sense not to break off pieces or trample anything in my enthusiasm, he felt comfortable sharing it with me, and thought I would like the next spot as well.
I thought about it for just a second, and then decided to hell with it, I was going to see this through. I had a moment of fear as I started up the rickety ladder, compounded by the fact that I was in front and was therefore blocking the light he held. For a moment I wasn’t sure I could go through with it and felt a wave of panic at the idea of the tons of rock towering overhead, and the darkness waiting to engulf us. Nasser must have seen some of that in my expression because as soon as he got off the ladder he began telling me about his many years of experience, and that he knows this cave well enough to find his way out even if he were blind, by the scents and sounds and the varying texture of the walls and path we were walking.
His calm assurance let me relax again and I began to pay more attention to my surroundings. We went through a passageway so narrow I was afraid inhaling would get me stuck, but there in front of us was one of the coolest things ever: jutting from the left wall was an enormous snout, mouth open, teeth reaching for a taste of the human trespassers… I could easily believe that some poor unsuspecting wanderer could have stumbled on this and that chance encounter led to the stories of dragons lurking in caves, guarding their sparkling cache. Hell, it wouldn’t have surprised me if the jaws had snapped shut as one of us walked by. Even the eyes appeared animated as traces of moisture reflected back the light from the lamp and my camera’s flash.
Just past the ‘Dragon’ was Nasser’s self-described favorite, an enormous Lotus blossom hanging above us. There were two, actually – the one in front simply reflected so much light that the other just faded into the background. Lotus flowers are highly esteemed in Thai culture and religion, and white often indicates a sacred entity.
Below and a little off to the side were a cluster of stalagmite “mushrooms” growing from the damp floor, right next to another wooden walkway spanning a deep pool of water. As I took my first step onto it I heard movement beside me, and turned to come nearly face to face with a cluster of bats clinging to the rock face just beyond the edge of the walkway. One had a baby clinging to its chest, and she wrapped her wings around it protectively, blinking in the glare of the light. I was close enough to see the downy fur on the baby, and the lines in the leathery wings of the mother. The largest was about eight inches long, and wrinkled its pug nose at us as we walked by. They look more like tiny foxes than rodents, with their flattened noses and oversized ears.
Once we were out of the Bat Cave, Nasser told me we were nearly done. One last turn brought us into another small chamber. This one also had an elephant formation, but was more representational of an elephant in a ceremonial headdress complete with the center part that comes down between the eyes and ends just above the trunk. The ‘trunk’ section had become detached and was just underneath. I was surprised at how quickly the time had gone, and was startled to realize I could feel fresh air moving against my skin. Nasser paused just before we reached the exit, and with a wry grin he asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to turn back?”
Obviously he speaks smartass as well as English and Thai.
* * *
Rumor has it that the waterfall trip which is part of this tour, is supposed to be the ‘highlight’ of the day. Between the elephants – both real and stone – and the rain drizzling softly upon us, it didn’t even come in a close second. Was beautiful, though.
We hiked up an incline against sheer rock jutting out of the jungle around us, and I noticed a fissure with a face-like formation. Nasser nodded, and said that was where we were going. As we got closer, what looked like a small cluster of rock was actually an opening about twelve feet high. The outermost rock was green and black from moss and age, and there was a deep layer of powdery dirt at my feet. Truthfully, I was a little bit disappointed; this looked like maybe an interesting rock or two but nothing terribly special.
Nasser pointed to an area just about knee height, and explained that millions of years ago, this was all underwater. Embedded there was the evidence; shells suspended in solid rock. He had knelt down to point out some of the fossils and froze for a moment, studying the soft dirt. He stood but remained focused, not answering when I tentatively asked if everything was all right. After a moment he relaxed again, and motioned that I follow him. He pointed to the ground and showed me tracks that resembled those of a large dog going into the cave through a narrow opening – the one we were meant to be entering. He then pointed to the other wall, where the tracks exited. He just wanted to make sure it had left before we went in.
We ducked the low overhang and squeezed sideways into the first chamber beyond the entrance. The dim light coming in was enough to show the remains of something small, white, and fluffy. Nasser said it had feet like a dog, but the face of a deer. Not sure whether he meant the diner or the dinner.
I made a comment to the effect that I was glad this room was all there was to the cave, as I get a little claustrophobic and liked that we could still see light from outside. He grew serious and led me around a curve in what I had thought was a solid wall. He warned me that this was it for the outside light from this point on; that the cave continued completely through the mountain, and it would take at minimum thirty to forty minutes to go the whole length so if I wanted to stop now, I could. To further make his point, he shut off the headlamp to give me an idea of what it would be like if the light failed. He turned it on again immediately, and asked what I wanted to do. I told him there was no way I could stand to be under a mountain with no light, and that I didn’t think I could go through with this. He simply nodded and said okay, but maybe I would like to see this one thing first?
We went through another low passage, this one on our knees, and entered into a very large chamber. I could hear the chirping and chattering of bats and the whoosh of their wings as a few took flight for a moment, startled by our light and presence. It was a large cavern probably about forty feet wide and high with a startling array of stalagmites and stalactites, some of which had met up to form thick columns from floor to ceiling. At the center right was an especially thick one that widened into a broad platform about four feet from the floor, and about four feet in diameter.
Up until this point, all the formations had been varying shades of brown and grey, as was the platform itself. Behind it however was a striped ‘curtain’ which even appeared to be billowing. At the center stood a blindingly white protrusion. With one eye closed and a little imagination, it resembled a small temple, complete with a chedi (tower).
Nasser stood and watched as I took several photos. “If you like, there’s one this way I think you will like,” he said as he pointed through an archway that led into another area. I shrugged and figured we weren’t too far from the opening, I may as well.
He led me into the next room and shone his light onto the massive protrusion that nearly divided the area. “This is the Elephant Chamber,” he told me. I must have had a blank look on my face, because he indicated that I should move back and to the side a few paces to get a better effect, then turned the lamp towards it again. Wow, from this angle it looked like a life sized elephant’s head coming down from the low ceiling; trunk, ears, and all. There wasn’t enough room to get the right camera angle, but I still have that image in my mind. It was so incredibly lifelike, I felt that I might catch the trunk twitch out of the corner of my eye.
“Beautiful, yes?” he asked. I couldn’t stop staring. After a few minutes he gently reminded me that I could turn back, but if I wished we could go on “just into the next area to see the new, growing stalagmites, about five minutes.” Of course I agreed.
He led me through a maze of massive tree trunk formations and then cautioned me to duck my head – we were entering an area with sharp, spear-point stalactites hanging down waiting to impale or decapitate the unwary. One of them bore a striking resemblance to a giant shark’s tooth. Around a bend he paused and shone his light on an opening before us.
A brilliant sparkle reflected back as if the walls were set with thousands of tiny diamonds. He swept the light across the room, and it was bounced back from every direction. “The nursery,” he said and winked at me. I stepped through an archway and for a moment I imagined this is what it would be like to see stars up close if I were able to reach up and touch the heavens. Millions of fragile crystals hung like snowflakes everywhere I looked. On some of the larger ones, the rock walls and stalactites appeared to have been dipped in shredded coconut. Nasser wasn’t sure of the chemical makeup of these crystals, but they were obviously different from everything else we had seen.
From here we went back out onto the main ‘trail’, and he paused to verify that I wanted to continue, although there may be bats ahead [Couldn’t be worse than the damned chipmunk, right?]. The path through the rock widened as we entered the largest room thus far. Powerful as it was, the headlight Nasser was carrying didn’t even come close to penetrating the darkness that stretched above and ahead of us, which was a little unsettling. I could again hear the chirps and rustling of wings as the bats reacted to our presence.
Nasser led me across a shallow stream – more a line of damp rock – and we came to an ancient wooden ladder leaning against the side of the cavern. I could see a darker shadow near the top, but it didn’t look deep enough to be another room. I thought perhaps there was something interesting in the alcove, so I just nodded when he tuned to look at me questioningly. He again offered to turn back, but said that if I chose to continue it would be better to complete the journey as we were already nearly half way through the mountain. He cautioned me that the next area was a little tricky to get to and that many of the people he led did not continue past where we currently were – and rarely did he take anyone into the ‘nursery,’ as it was such a fragile environment. Since I was alone and seemed to have enough sense not to break off pieces or trample anything in my enthusiasm, he felt comfortable sharing it with me, and thought I would like the next spot as well.
I thought about it for just a second, and then decided to hell with it, I was going to see this through. I had a moment of fear as I started up the rickety ladder, compounded by the fact that I was in front and was therefore blocking the light he held. For a moment I wasn’t sure I could go through with it and felt a wave of panic at the idea of the tons of rock towering overhead, and the darkness waiting to engulf us. Nasser must have seen some of that in my expression because as soon as he got off the ladder he began telling me about his many years of experience, and that he knows this cave well enough to find his way out even if he were blind, by the scents and sounds and the varying texture of the walls and path we were walking.
His calm assurance let me relax again and I began to pay more attention to my surroundings. We went through a passageway so narrow I was afraid inhaling would get me stuck, but there in front of us was one of the coolest things ever: jutting from the left wall was an enormous snout, mouth open, teeth reaching for a taste of the human trespassers… I could easily believe that some poor unsuspecting wanderer could have stumbled on this and that chance encounter led to the stories of dragons lurking in caves, guarding their sparkling cache. Hell, it wouldn’t have surprised me if the jaws had snapped shut as one of us walked by. Even the eyes appeared animated as traces of moisture reflected back the light from the lamp and my camera’s flash.
Just past the ‘Dragon’ was Nasser’s self-described favorite, an enormous Lotus blossom hanging above us. There were two, actually – the one in front simply reflected so much light that the other just faded into the background. Lotus flowers are highly esteemed in Thai culture and religion, and white often indicates a sacred entity.
Below and a little off to the side were a cluster of stalagmite “mushrooms” growing from the damp floor, right next to another wooden walkway spanning a deep pool of water. As I took my first step onto it I heard movement beside me, and turned to come nearly face to face with a cluster of bats clinging to the rock face just beyond the edge of the walkway. One had a baby clinging to its chest, and she wrapped her wings around it protectively, blinking in the glare of the light. I was close enough to see the downy fur on the baby, and the lines in the leathery wings of the mother. The largest was about eight inches long, and wrinkled its pug nose at us as we walked by. They look more like tiny foxes than rodents, with their flattened noses and oversized ears.
Once we were out of the Bat Cave, Nasser told me we were nearly done. One last turn brought us into another small chamber. This one also had an elephant formation, but was more representational of an elephant in a ceremonial headdress complete with the center part that comes down between the eyes and ends just above the trunk. The ‘trunk’ section had become detached and was just underneath. I was surprised at how quickly the time had gone, and was startled to realize I could feel fresh air moving against my skin. Nasser paused just before we reached the exit, and with a wry grin he asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to turn back?”
Obviously he speaks smartass as well as English and Thai.
* * *
Rumor has it that the waterfall trip which is part of this tour, is supposed to be the ‘highlight’ of the day. Between the elephants – both real and stone – and the rain drizzling softly upon us, it didn’t even come in a close second. Was beautiful, though.
"Welcome to the Jungle" - Ao Nang 3
Welcome to the Jungle
After we returned to the elephant station, Nasser was waiting to help me dismount and escorted me to a small pavilion where we were offered fresh pineapple and water, and then we were off for part two.
We drove for only about five to ten minutes then pulled off the road and followed a dirt path until it disappeared. Nasser drove on for a few more yards then halted. He explained that sometimes animals come out after the rain stops (which it had, briefly), and wanted to make sure I still wanted to continue. Absolutely!
As we left the grassy area where we had parked, Nasser described the soil and plants in this area, then stopped to pluck a leaf. “You know this one,” he asked, holding it out for me to smell. No, didn’t recognize the smell at all. “Ginger,” he replied, and informed me that not only the roots but the blossoms are also edible, just not the leaves. Then a moment later he pointed out morning glory – the flower is similar to the one by the same name at home, but the leaves are long and narrow, and this one is edible. I’ve had it in soups, salads, even on a plate of vegetables to add as you wish. We reached an area that had some brackish water pooled underneath a stand of small trees, and Nasser reached down and broke off a small cluster of leaves. “Of course you know this,” he said. No… but wish we could grow this one at home. Crushed, the leaves have an almost citrusy smell, and can be rubbed on the skin to keep bugs away. Works well, too!
As we hiked, Nasser pointed out the different trees, rock formations, a foot-long red centipede sunning itself. Suddenly he stopped so quickly I nearly ran over him. He gently reached out to keep me from taking another step forward, and I realized he had prevented me from running full tilt into an enormous spider web that stretched completely across the path (Harry Potter fans would recognize this guy!). He said something I didn’t catch, but motioned downwards with this hand until we were both squatting, and then we duck-walked underneath the giant web. When we got to the other side, he murmured, “turn around.” Right at face level was a spider that made my home invader look small. It was at least a foot from the tip of its front legs to back, and the body was long, slender, and painted in bright stripes of yellow on its abdomen and red around the face. Beautiful in a freakishly scary sort of way. Makes my skin crawl to think that without my guide, I would have had a face full of spider fur.
While we continued walking, Nasser described the different animals that inhabit this area. There is a small Thai deer, the “barking” deer; along with bears (the kind we call Kodiak), leopards, monkeys, iguanas, and a kind of lizard that expands a fold of skin under its forelegs and along the neck to enable it to glide from tree to tree. I also learned that the “monkeys” I hear early in the morning are actually birds; the “birds” I hear late in the afternoon are monkeys, and the “baby chickens” I hear in the evening are a type of snake that hunts both.
We were about to cross a narrow wooden bridge slick from rain and moss when Nasser halted me again. There was another spiderweb, this occupant much smaller, and he simply disconnected the web top and bottom from the tree anchoring it, then swung it out of the way as if opening a gate. “Not to worry,” he said, “she will build again in about two hours.”
Just as I started to take a step forward, something hit me on the head. I thought it was falling fruit or a small tree branch until I saw the look of surprise on Nasser’s face, and simultaneously realized whatever had landed on my head was now moving down my neck and onto my back. I freaked! Screamed like a little girl and flapped my arms trying frantically to get whatever it was off of me. Thais take great pride in never losing their composure, and Nasser didn’t laugh hysterically (as I’m sure I would have, in his place). He just waited for me to realize nothing was on me any more, and then asked me to hold still while he looked to see if I had been scratched (in retrospect, he probably was checking for bites, but was smart enough not to say so.) I was still nearly hyperventilating and kept asking if it was gone, then asked did he see what hit me, and what (the hell) was it?! He stood for a moment, then said the Thai name and added, “it is a type of small squirrel. I think you call it, chimpmuck.”
Seriously?! I have been camping since I was old enough to say the word, and I have never – EVER – been hit on the head by a falling chipmunk. While I was trying to wrap my head around that, Nasser got a bemused look and made the understatement of the year: “Well. I never see that before.”
After we returned to the elephant station, Nasser was waiting to help me dismount and escorted me to a small pavilion where we were offered fresh pineapple and water, and then we were off for part two.
We drove for only about five to ten minutes then pulled off the road and followed a dirt path until it disappeared. Nasser drove on for a few more yards then halted. He explained that sometimes animals come out after the rain stops (which it had, briefly), and wanted to make sure I still wanted to continue. Absolutely!
As we left the grassy area where we had parked, Nasser described the soil and plants in this area, then stopped to pluck a leaf. “You know this one,” he asked, holding it out for me to smell. No, didn’t recognize the smell at all. “Ginger,” he replied, and informed me that not only the roots but the blossoms are also edible, just not the leaves. Then a moment later he pointed out morning glory – the flower is similar to the one by the same name at home, but the leaves are long and narrow, and this one is edible. I’ve had it in soups, salads, even on a plate of vegetables to add as you wish. We reached an area that had some brackish water pooled underneath a stand of small trees, and Nasser reached down and broke off a small cluster of leaves. “Of course you know this,” he said. No… but wish we could grow this one at home. Crushed, the leaves have an almost citrusy smell, and can be rubbed on the skin to keep bugs away. Works well, too!
As we hiked, Nasser pointed out the different trees, rock formations, a foot-long red centipede sunning itself. Suddenly he stopped so quickly I nearly ran over him. He gently reached out to keep me from taking another step forward, and I realized he had prevented me from running full tilt into an enormous spider web that stretched completely across the path (Harry Potter fans would recognize this guy!). He said something I didn’t catch, but motioned downwards with this hand until we were both squatting, and then we duck-walked underneath the giant web. When we got to the other side, he murmured, “turn around.” Right at face level was a spider that made my home invader look small. It was at least a foot from the tip of its front legs to back, and the body was long, slender, and painted in bright stripes of yellow on its abdomen and red around the face. Beautiful in a freakishly scary sort of way. Makes my skin crawl to think that without my guide, I would have had a face full of spider fur.
While we continued walking, Nasser described the different animals that inhabit this area. There is a small Thai deer, the “barking” deer; along with bears (the kind we call Kodiak), leopards, monkeys, iguanas, and a kind of lizard that expands a fold of skin under its forelegs and along the neck to enable it to glide from tree to tree. I also learned that the “monkeys” I hear early in the morning are actually birds; the “birds” I hear late in the afternoon are monkeys, and the “baby chickens” I hear in the evening are a type of snake that hunts both.
We were about to cross a narrow wooden bridge slick from rain and moss when Nasser halted me again. There was another spiderweb, this occupant much smaller, and he simply disconnected the web top and bottom from the tree anchoring it, then swung it out of the way as if opening a gate. “Not to worry,” he said, “she will build again in about two hours.”
Just as I started to take a step forward, something hit me on the head. I thought it was falling fruit or a small tree branch until I saw the look of surprise on Nasser’s face, and simultaneously realized whatever had landed on my head was now moving down my neck and onto my back. I freaked! Screamed like a little girl and flapped my arms trying frantically to get whatever it was off of me. Thais take great pride in never losing their composure, and Nasser didn’t laugh hysterically (as I’m sure I would have, in his place). He just waited for me to realize nothing was on me any more, and then asked me to hold still while he looked to see if I had been scratched (in retrospect, he probably was checking for bites, but was smart enough not to say so.) I was still nearly hyperventilating and kept asking if it was gone, then asked did he see what hit me, and what (the hell) was it?! He stood for a moment, then said the Thai name and added, “it is a type of small squirrel. I think you call it, chimpmuck.”
Seriously?! I have been camping since I was old enough to say the word, and I have never – EVER – been hit on the head by a falling chipmunk. While I was trying to wrap my head around that, Nasser got a bemused look and made the understatement of the year: “Well. I never see that before.”
Elephant Walk - Ao Nang, Part 2
Elephant Walk
I’ve been trying to avoid the whole touristy thing since I got here – you know the ones, they spend all their time just hanging out with other foreigners, traipsing all over the place without actually noticing it, that sort of thing. Living in a small community that has been so welcoming has gone a long way towards making me forget I’m just visiting. Still, I do want to explore and experience everything while I’m here, so while I was in Ao Nang I signed up for one of those all-inclusive package deals that combined elephant riding, jungle trekking, and cave exploring, as well as lunch.
Hey, feed me and you can get me to do just about anything.
I was a little skeptical because you hear a lot about people getting ripped off by cheesy second-rate “deals” that fall far short of the glossy brochures and slick marketing. Plus, many of the elephants at these places are overworked and not cared for properly; some are even abused. I had done a lot of research before I left home to find an organization that was reputable and involved with conservation, but of course left all the helpful info I’d collected at home on my laptop. When I asked at the hotel for a referral to a reputable place out of the many brochures on display, the clerk there just picked up the phone, punched in a number, and hung up saying, “he pick you up 8am.” What the hell, he also managed to get me a good off-season discount.
I woke early on Monday morning because I was told the company would have me transported to and from my hotel. The guy was a few minutes late, which was good because it gave the rain time to end its little summer squall and settle down again. I was surprised when he showed up in a sangtheaw instead of minibus, but found out that I was the only participant and so he brought a smaller vehicle. I got to ride in the front with the a/c, so I wasn’t complaining.
I may have had reservations up to that point, but as soon as we were on the road to the elephant camp I found out that I had really lucked out. My guide, Nasser, is an amazing individual. He is knowledgeable about an infinite number of subjects and speaks excellent English. Like so many others, his home and business were destroyed by the tsunami, and he has been doing a number of things since then. He has a son studying politics and history at the University in Bangkok , and is obviously proud. To have a child attend college at all is the exception rather than the rule in these communities, and to be studying something other than tourism is even rarer.
We pulled into the Elephant Camp and parked behind another vehicle. There were three young Japanese women wandering around taking photographs, and Nasser gave me some background while we were waiting for our ‘rides.’ For instance, besides the size and ears that differentiate Asian from African elephants, the Asian ones have five toenails in front and four in back, while African have four and three. Also, there is an even smaller elephant which is a cousin of the Asian but is becoming increasingly rare. Thailand had nearly 100,000 wild elephants at the turn of the century – but their numbers are now down to less than 5,000 in captivity and not much more than that in the wild. Nasser said he wants to open another program, one which will allow tourists to spend one or two nights in an elephant facility, learning how to care for them and what the training process involves, etc. I’d do it for a cookie!
This particular touring company is an affiliate of the Asian Elephant Conservation Program, and they take their responsibility to the animals very seriously. Most of the proceeds from these tours goes directly back to their care. The elephants are all microchipped, they receive medical checkups monthly, and they participate in a very successful captive breeding program. In fact, during the hourlong ride my other guide told me that the elephant I was on was pregnant. Because they have a two-year gestation period, they can comfortably continue working until about eighteen months into it.
The elephants were led into a bamboo chute attached to a platform on what looked like scaffolding. Nasser helped me climb up, then introduced me to the rider who would be my guide for this part of the tour. The three Asian girls were loaded into the seat atop the first elephant, and then I was introduced to mine. While the mahout (there’s another name in Thai, but I don’t know what it is) gently guided her as close to the platform as she could get, I gingerly stepped onto the mat across her back and lowered myself onto the bench seat. It had a short backrest and hand rails similar to the types they put on toddler beds to keep children from falling out. I felt a little panicky when I saw the safety belt was just a heavy lead rope tied at one end. The loose end was drawn in front of me and tied tightly to the armrest support. On the other hand the girls that went before me were on a much newer (presumably safer) rig, and looked petrified the entire trip.
Okay, I’ve always understood in an abstract, intellectual way that elephants are big. I get that. I’ve just never fully grasped how big until now. The ground looked a long way off as we started moving. Then I realized that the rider was simply sitting crosslegged on her head.
The guy on the lead elephant was fairly young, and appeared to be more interested in making a buck and flirting with the girls behind him than ‘his’ animal. In contrast, the man in front of me constantly scratched and sang to ours, flicking away the marauding giant flies which kept attacking the backside of her ears and biting fiercely enough to draw blood on the back of her neck. He has been riding elephants since he was a child, and has been working with this one for eight years. Chahng (which is the Thai word for elephant and close to the pronunciation of ‘I’, chan)is twenty-two and started training at the age of ten. Don’t know what happened to her previous handler, but because elephants can have a lifespan as long or longer than humans and bond similarly, they become a valued member of the family that cares for them.
I was just starting to relax and enjoy the ride when the mahout leaped to the ground and ran a few yards off to the side of the stream. Chahng kept going for a moment, then stopped. He was calling directions or orders or something, but she just rolled her head from side to side, making soft, questioning noises and she kept her trunk pointing in his direction until he returned. He seemed surprised to see her in the same location when he popped back out of the brush, holding two enormous football-shaped fruits in his arms. He tossed one to the elephant ahead of us, then handed one to Chahng and spoke softly to her as he patted her face and climbed back aboard. “I hope okay,” he said, “she pregnant so I treat her.” Once he was settled again she seemed to relax and we continued. She carried the fruit in her trunk, taking dainty little nibbles from it when she could have easily finished it in two giant bites.
Logically I know this wasn’t much different from any other trail ride, but I thought it was awesome. The scenery was fabulous, I got a different perspective (literally) on the jungle from up there, and it was easy to believe the rest of the world just didn’t exist. River crossings were adrenaline inducing, as the bench I was on tipped forward alarmingly and I found myself looking straight down over her head into rushing water with each one, but it was fabulous.
Once across the stream we paused so Chahng and the other elephant could snack – but having seen the other rider reprimand his animal for stopping for a mouthful of grass, I got the distinct impression he only paused because we did. She repaid him with a trunkful of water in the stream. Payback, baby.
About halfway through, my rider motioned that he was hopping down for a cigarette. Chahng followed docilely behind him with the tip of her trunk on his shoulder for a few moments until he lit up, and then she stepped away out of the stream of smoke. I felt an odd vibration under me, and remembered seeing a documentary recently describing elephants’ ability to communicate through vibrations so low that they are out of the range of human hearing. The other one responded, but audibly, and Chahng raised her trunk and trumpeted loudly. The mahout said something and she just rocked her head back and forth.
Back at the camp I bought a basket of bananas (the locals bring them to the elephants so they don’t go to waste, and the company charges for the experience of hand feeding them), which was well worth it for the sensation of being checked out by an elephant’s trunk. The first two she shoved into her mouth like a greedy child with a handful of candy, but the rest she slowed and seemed to savor. She picked each one out of my hand delicately, and when she had eaten a couple she paused to inspect my hand, arm, and neck with her trunk before having another.
All in all, off to an awesome start.
I’ve been trying to avoid the whole touristy thing since I got here – you know the ones, they spend all their time just hanging out with other foreigners, traipsing all over the place without actually noticing it, that sort of thing. Living in a small community that has been so welcoming has gone a long way towards making me forget I’m just visiting. Still, I do want to explore and experience everything while I’m here, so while I was in Ao Nang I signed up for one of those all-inclusive package deals that combined elephant riding, jungle trekking, and cave exploring, as well as lunch.
Hey, feed me and you can get me to do just about anything.
I was a little skeptical because you hear a lot about people getting ripped off by cheesy second-rate “deals” that fall far short of the glossy brochures and slick marketing. Plus, many of the elephants at these places are overworked and not cared for properly; some are even abused. I had done a lot of research before I left home to find an organization that was reputable and involved with conservation, but of course left all the helpful info I’d collected at home on my laptop. When I asked at the hotel for a referral to a reputable place out of the many brochures on display, the clerk there just picked up the phone, punched in a number, and hung up saying, “he pick you up 8am.” What the hell, he also managed to get me a good off-season discount.
I woke early on Monday morning because I was told the company would have me transported to and from my hotel. The guy was a few minutes late, which was good because it gave the rain time to end its little summer squall and settle down again. I was surprised when he showed up in a sangtheaw instead of minibus, but found out that I was the only participant and so he brought a smaller vehicle. I got to ride in the front with the a/c, so I wasn’t complaining.
I may have had reservations up to that point, but as soon as we were on the road to the elephant camp I found out that I had really lucked out. My guide, Nasser, is an amazing individual. He is knowledgeable about an infinite number of subjects and speaks excellent English. Like so many others, his home and business were destroyed by the tsunami, and he has been doing a number of things since then. He has a son studying politics and history at the University in Bangkok , and is obviously proud. To have a child attend college at all is the exception rather than the rule in these communities, and to be studying something other than tourism is even rarer.
We pulled into the Elephant Camp and parked behind another vehicle. There were three young Japanese women wandering around taking photographs, and Nasser gave me some background while we were waiting for our ‘rides.’ For instance, besides the size and ears that differentiate Asian from African elephants, the Asian ones have five toenails in front and four in back, while African have four and three. Also, there is an even smaller elephant which is a cousin of the Asian but is becoming increasingly rare. Thailand had nearly 100,000 wild elephants at the turn of the century – but their numbers are now down to less than 5,000 in captivity and not much more than that in the wild. Nasser said he wants to open another program, one which will allow tourists to spend one or two nights in an elephant facility, learning how to care for them and what the training process involves, etc. I’d do it for a cookie!
This particular touring company is an affiliate of the Asian Elephant Conservation Program, and they take their responsibility to the animals very seriously. Most of the proceeds from these tours goes directly back to their care. The elephants are all microchipped, they receive medical checkups monthly, and they participate in a very successful captive breeding program. In fact, during the hourlong ride my other guide told me that the elephant I was on was pregnant. Because they have a two-year gestation period, they can comfortably continue working until about eighteen months into it.
The elephants were led into a bamboo chute attached to a platform on what looked like scaffolding. Nasser helped me climb up, then introduced me to the rider who would be my guide for this part of the tour. The three Asian girls were loaded into the seat atop the first elephant, and then I was introduced to mine. While the mahout (there’s another name in Thai, but I don’t know what it is) gently guided her as close to the platform as she could get, I gingerly stepped onto the mat across her back and lowered myself onto the bench seat. It had a short backrest and hand rails similar to the types they put on toddler beds to keep children from falling out. I felt a little panicky when I saw the safety belt was just a heavy lead rope tied at one end. The loose end was drawn in front of me and tied tightly to the armrest support. On the other hand the girls that went before me were on a much newer (presumably safer) rig, and looked petrified the entire trip.
Okay, I’ve always understood in an abstract, intellectual way that elephants are big. I get that. I’ve just never fully grasped how big until now. The ground looked a long way off as we started moving. Then I realized that the rider was simply sitting crosslegged on her head.
The guy on the lead elephant was fairly young, and appeared to be more interested in making a buck and flirting with the girls behind him than ‘his’ animal. In contrast, the man in front of me constantly scratched and sang to ours, flicking away the marauding giant flies which kept attacking the backside of her ears and biting fiercely enough to draw blood on the back of her neck. He has been riding elephants since he was a child, and has been working with this one for eight years. Chahng (which is the Thai word for elephant and close to the pronunciation of ‘I’, chan)is twenty-two and started training at the age of ten. Don’t know what happened to her previous handler, but because elephants can have a lifespan as long or longer than humans and bond similarly, they become a valued member of the family that cares for them.
I was just starting to relax and enjoy the ride when the mahout leaped to the ground and ran a few yards off to the side of the stream. Chahng kept going for a moment, then stopped. He was calling directions or orders or something, but she just rolled her head from side to side, making soft, questioning noises and she kept her trunk pointing in his direction until he returned. He seemed surprised to see her in the same location when he popped back out of the brush, holding two enormous football-shaped fruits in his arms. He tossed one to the elephant ahead of us, then handed one to Chahng and spoke softly to her as he patted her face and climbed back aboard. “I hope okay,” he said, “she pregnant so I treat her.” Once he was settled again she seemed to relax and we continued. She carried the fruit in her trunk, taking dainty little nibbles from it when she could have easily finished it in two giant bites.
Logically I know this wasn’t much different from any other trail ride, but I thought it was awesome. The scenery was fabulous, I got a different perspective (literally) on the jungle from up there, and it was easy to believe the rest of the world just didn’t exist. River crossings were adrenaline inducing, as the bench I was on tipped forward alarmingly and I found myself looking straight down over her head into rushing water with each one, but it was fabulous.
Once across the stream we paused so Chahng and the other elephant could snack – but having seen the other rider reprimand his animal for stopping for a mouthful of grass, I got the distinct impression he only paused because we did. She repaid him with a trunkful of water in the stream. Payback, baby.
About halfway through, my rider motioned that he was hopping down for a cigarette. Chahng followed docilely behind him with the tip of her trunk on his shoulder for a few moments until he lit up, and then she stepped away out of the stream of smoke. I felt an odd vibration under me, and remembered seeing a documentary recently describing elephants’ ability to communicate through vibrations so low that they are out of the range of human hearing. The other one responded, but audibly, and Chahng raised her trunk and trumpeted loudly. The mahout said something and she just rocked her head back and forth.
Back at the camp I bought a basket of bananas (the locals bring them to the elephants so they don’t go to waste, and the company charges for the experience of hand feeding them), which was well worth it for the sensation of being checked out by an elephant’s trunk. The first two she shoved into her mouth like a greedy child with a handful of candy, but the rest she slowed and seemed to savor. She picked each one out of my hand delicately, and when she had eaten a couple she paused to inspect my hand, arm, and neck with her trunk before having another.
All in all, off to an awesome start.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Ao Nang, Sunday
My time off came a little late this week. There was a teacher’s conference in computer technology on Monday and Tuesday, so I decided to go into Ao Nang on Sunday afternoon and stay a couple of nights. It’s touristy, but not as much as Phuket or some of the other resort places.
I paid Tia to drive me there (it’s about a two-hour drive), and planned to catch the bus home. He gave me quite a lesson in Thai on the way, and by the time we got there I had added a few new phrases (loi = big), (tow roi = how much) and (lot but = bus) among them. There were more, but that’s all I remember.
Anders had suggested that with this being the off-season and tourism being down overall, I could probably find a great hotel deal by just walking down the street and knocking on doors. It was worth a shot, but I called one of the places advertised on the local map to make a reservation ahead of time, just in case. As it happened, I found the place I had reserved first, so I went inside to inquire again about the rates and was offered a further discount. I waved goodbye to Tia and headed inside.
The room was just over the pool, and comfortable. I dropped my stuff inside and went off to explore. At first it seemed incredibly exotic to be among tall fair-skinned people again. Funny though, the people of Thai Meuang are so much friendlier. In Ao Nang the only people willing to make eye contact were the merchants aggressively vying for business.
After I browsed some of the local shops and wandered along the beach for a while, I made my way back the way I had come. I was hot, tired, and thirsty, and feeling a little lonely after watching groups of tourists and families wandering around together. I saw a sign for an Irish pub, and stopped in for a pint of cider. They had a full English menu, featuring things like real roast beef and potatoes, shepherd’s pie, etc. I wasn’t very hungry but the smells coming from their kitchen were enough to make me drool. I sat down and ordered a bottle of Magner’s and a side of French Fries – just because I could.
There were a few couples inside the pub and a couple of guys sitting outside at one of the tables. It was stifling inside, so I got my cider and fries, and went out to sit on the patio. While I was fiddling with my camera one of the men offered to take a picture for me and we struck up a conversation. They have both ‘stopped over’ here indefinitely after completing a contractor’s job in Bagdad. We talked about our kids, who are all about the same age; travel (they said it’s comparably rare to meet someone from the US – mostly they meet Asians and Europeans, and statistically we travel a LOT less); and the school systems in our countries. We even very lightly skimmed the surface of politics. Afterwards I went back to my room for a quick nap before dinner.
When I woke the sun was just beginning to set. I’d been having some discomfort and hadn’t eaten much for a few days, so everything looked good. One thing that I find intriguing is the number of places that hire a host to stand at the sidewalk and encourage passersby to try them out. I chose an Indian-Thai-Seafood place, partly because the scents coming from it were so enticing, and partly because their host was knowledgeable, charming, and when asked what I liked best about Thai food and I responded that I like seafood, basil, garlic, and lemongrass, he said “I know just the perfect dish for you.” He was so right, too. Eating has been a challenge lately because my chest hurts every time I swallow. Not my throat, a spot just under the sternum. Because of that, I told him I didn’t want a large portion, and couldn’t have anything too spicy. He went back to talk with the cook, and I just took for granted it would be good.
The cook came out a short time later with a cup of flavorful broth to start with, followed by some kind of rice stir-fried with garlic (but not anything like fried rice). The main dish was fresh fish sautéed with holy basil and vegetables. I started to refuse when I saw a couple of sliced chili peppers, but she nodded and said, “Not spice. Sweet. Sweet pepper for you.” It was one of the best meals I’ve ever had, and inexpensive.
Afterwards I caught the eye of one of the busgirls and beckoned her over to try to get the name of the dish, but she had no idea what I was asking. She got another girl, who got the host, who got the owner, who went and got the cook….who apparently was offended because she thought I didn’t like it. When I made it clear that I did in fact enjoy it very much, she was very friendly and chattered away for five minutes, and finally said (through the host translating) she didn’t really have a name for it, she made something based on what the host said. How cool is that?
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Just a Note
I worked Friday at Anders' school and went to work with Net on Saturday. Had Monday and Tues off at my school because the teachers were going to a computer training conference. I decided to head up to Ao Nang for an overnight trip.
So far, I have avoided doing the sillier 'typical tourist' things, for the most part -- stay away from the places so Westernized that you could be anywhere, avoid the congested 'popular' locations, that sort of thing. However, I did give in and pay for one of the tour packages that included an elephant ride, trek through the jungle on foot, and exploration of a limestone cave.
I'll write more on that later -- but it was absolutely one of the best experiences of my entire life. I didn't wuss out and bail as soon as I realized I would be at the mercy of one tiny headlamp for 40 minutes under ground (actually I did, but my guide was so awesome that I just kept following him to see what else he could show me.) I am really proud of myself for beating one of my longest fears.
On a more serious note, I've been having some chest discomfort for a few days now, and today it was bad enough to merit a trip to Phuket to the english-speaking docs at the gov't run hospital. I'm okay, had an allergic reaction to the anti-malarial meds and it caused some irritation to my esophagas. Have lots of drugs and orders to eat pretty much nothing but rice and weak tea til it heals, but otherwise I'm okay. Whichever side you're on in the great American health-care debate, it was mind-blowing to go into an emergency room and be seen, diagnosed, tested, treated, and released in under an hour and a half, and I wasn't bleeding out anywhere either.
More later, when I'm not wiped and when I have reliable inet again.
So far, I have avoided doing the sillier 'typical tourist' things, for the most part -- stay away from the places so Westernized that you could be anywhere, avoid the congested 'popular' locations, that sort of thing. However, I did give in and pay for one of the tour packages that included an elephant ride, trek through the jungle on foot, and exploration of a limestone cave.
I'll write more on that later -- but it was absolutely one of the best experiences of my entire life. I didn't wuss out and bail as soon as I realized I would be at the mercy of one tiny headlamp for 40 minutes under ground (actually I did, but my guide was so awesome that I just kept following him to see what else he could show me.) I am really proud of myself for beating one of my longest fears.
On a more serious note, I've been having some chest discomfort for a few days now, and today it was bad enough to merit a trip to Phuket to the english-speaking docs at the gov't run hospital. I'm okay, had an allergic reaction to the anti-malarial meds and it caused some irritation to my esophagas. Have lots of drugs and orders to eat pretty much nothing but rice and weak tea til it heals, but otherwise I'm okay. Whichever side you're on in the great American health-care debate, it was mind-blowing to go into an emergency room and be seen, diagnosed, tested, treated, and released in under an hour and a half, and I wasn't bleeding out anywhere either.
More later, when I'm not wiped and when I have reliable inet again.
My 2nd Week on the Job
[Okay, this is really from last Friday, but it's been a bit hectic since then with a whole new trip to experience and write about, plus illness, plus the ER. You'll hear all about that later.]
I got to school on Monday, and all of my classes were distracted by the noise coming from the open auditorium at the center of the campus, although I didn’t know what was going on. Needless to say, it was not productive at all. We were working (or attempting to) on simple directions – left, right, straight ahead, etc. I think my youngest kids did the best. I tried a trick one of my teachers used to demonstrate “left” and “right” where you have the child hold up their left hands and trace around it, making sure to hold the thumb out as far as possible so that they can see the “L” made. I’m sure a couple were disappointed at the lack of swear words or pooping birds in class, but they did well.
I really wish I had been able to learn a little more basic Thai, and spend some time observing someone who knew what they were doing before I got kind of thrown out of the plane without a parachute. I feel like I’m in free fall with these kids, and it’s frustrating because I feel my inexperience is letting them down. Mostly I try to get them to feel comfortable learning to speak up and express their opinions in class, because that is completely foreign to most of them. They are taught to conform and never question, never think about other options. This school is making a concerted effort to give them exposure to other ways of doing things, but it's challenging.
The next day I was informed that I would not actually be teaching on Tues or Wed because there was a group of American volunteers who would be visiting and continuing what they had started on Monday. I was invited to observe or participate if I wanted to, so I went down to meet them. They are a group from Salt Lake City who are in Thailand for two weeks. The director and his wife are very young, have had experience teaching in different parts of Asia, and are themselves contemplating relocating to Thailand some time in the near future. What I found most intriguing about this particular group is how little any of them were interested in proselytizing, but were all committed to reaching children in an attempt to demonstrate that there is a world of opportunity beyond this limited environment. Plus, it was so comfortable to talk with people from “home.”
The next day I went back and had the best time! This group had organized several educational games, and were broken into sections that each group of kids would get to visit in rotation. I got to help Julia, one of their volunteers, with a bubble project designed to aid coordination (construction of the bubble ‘wand’) and language skills (words like big/little, round/square, etc). Mostly, the kids and we made a mess and got soaked and just had a fabulous time. The kids are so much more relaxed and communicative outside of the classroom, and they talk SO much more! None of us can understand a word of the other, but we have lots of laughs and hugs and giggles anyway.
Thursday was “Teachers’ Day” which is a ceremonial show of respect from the kids to all of the teachers. At the start of the ceremony, a group of monks from the temple up the hill walked down to participate. I was fascinated by the whole process, and felt a little awkward to be included so automatically. I’ve only been here a week and a half, and felt out of place to be participating. After the monks chanted and prayed, the eldest strode among the rows of children dipping a bundle of incense sticks into holy water and spattering it among them. When finished, he apparently asked if anyone needed special consideration, because several of the children pointed to one child who is wheelchair bound. He went and blessed her, then touched the bundle to her forehead and turned to make his way back to the dias. One boy broke from his place at the back of the room and raced up to receive his, which led to some indulgent laughter from the adults. From the bits of conversation around me, I gathered that he’s been a bit of a handful.
When the monks were finished, they went off to the canteen for a meal and the teachers were lined up across the front of the room. Each row of children approached us, handed us an offering of flowers – some were elaborate, some were sprigs of bougainvillea or jasmine gathered at home – and bowed in respect before heading back to his or her seat. Ladawan whispered to me that each flower had a symbolic meaning: grass for longevity, eggplant blossom, chrysanthemums, jasmine, etc. I was surprised and touched when a couple of kids rearranged their places in line so they could personally present me with a gift.
After the ceremonies were finished it was time for lunch. I generally eat with the teachers, and usually it’s some of what the children are offered as well as something else. Today for the special occasion, the teachers brought in their own food.
I often feel like Mikey in that old Life Cereal commercial – three kids are sitting at the breakfast table. The older two are poking at a new cereal suspiciously, while the youngest looks oblivious. One of the older boys suggests, “Give it to Mikey.” The other responds, “He won’t like it, he hates everything.” They slide it in front of the youngest one, who of course digs right in as they watch him intently. The other two sit upright: “He likes it! Hey, Mikey!”
I bring it up because the teachers have developed a new habit. One will offer me something, then put a little dab on my plate (I have yet to turn anything down). Next they all lean in expectantly to see how I’ll react, sometimes with accompanying nudges and grins. I got to try a whole new range of things today. One was a spicy fish paste wrapped and steamed in banana leaf, similar to the size, shape, and texture of a tamale --- hot as hell, but oh so good! There were tiny little meatballs wrapped in cabbage leaves and steamed, and sweet-hot red curry with pork and pineapple. Last was some kind of gooey/sticky/jellied treat made from potatoes. I think. Everything was fabulous. I won’t be at all surprised to find I’ve gained twenty pounds by the time I get home.
All in all, I had a great week!
I got to school on Monday, and all of my classes were distracted by the noise coming from the open auditorium at the center of the campus, although I didn’t know what was going on. Needless to say, it was not productive at all. We were working (or attempting to) on simple directions – left, right, straight ahead, etc. I think my youngest kids did the best. I tried a trick one of my teachers used to demonstrate “left” and “right” where you have the child hold up their left hands and trace around it, making sure to hold the thumb out as far as possible so that they can see the “L” made. I’m sure a couple were disappointed at the lack of swear words or pooping birds in class, but they did well.
I really wish I had been able to learn a little more basic Thai, and spend some time observing someone who knew what they were doing before I got kind of thrown out of the plane without a parachute. I feel like I’m in free fall with these kids, and it’s frustrating because I feel my inexperience is letting them down. Mostly I try to get them to feel comfortable learning to speak up and express their opinions in class, because that is completely foreign to most of them. They are taught to conform and never question, never think about other options. This school is making a concerted effort to give them exposure to other ways of doing things, but it's challenging.
The next day I was informed that I would not actually be teaching on Tues or Wed because there was a group of American volunteers who would be visiting and continuing what they had started on Monday. I was invited to observe or participate if I wanted to, so I went down to meet them. They are a group from Salt Lake City who are in Thailand for two weeks. The director and his wife are very young, have had experience teaching in different parts of Asia, and are themselves contemplating relocating to Thailand some time in the near future. What I found most intriguing about this particular group is how little any of them were interested in proselytizing, but were all committed to reaching children in an attempt to demonstrate that there is a world of opportunity beyond this limited environment. Plus, it was so comfortable to talk with people from “home.”
The next day I went back and had the best time! This group had organized several educational games, and were broken into sections that each group of kids would get to visit in rotation. I got to help Julia, one of their volunteers, with a bubble project designed to aid coordination (construction of the bubble ‘wand’) and language skills (words like big/little, round/square, etc). Mostly, the kids and we made a mess and got soaked and just had a fabulous time. The kids are so much more relaxed and communicative outside of the classroom, and they talk SO much more! None of us can understand a word of the other, but we have lots of laughs and hugs and giggles anyway.
Thursday was “Teachers’ Day” which is a ceremonial show of respect from the kids to all of the teachers. At the start of the ceremony, a group of monks from the temple up the hill walked down to participate. I was fascinated by the whole process, and felt a little awkward to be included so automatically. I’ve only been here a week and a half, and felt out of place to be participating. After the monks chanted and prayed, the eldest strode among the rows of children dipping a bundle of incense sticks into holy water and spattering it among them. When finished, he apparently asked if anyone needed special consideration, because several of the children pointed to one child who is wheelchair bound. He went and blessed her, then touched the bundle to her forehead and turned to make his way back to the dias. One boy broke from his place at the back of the room and raced up to receive his, which led to some indulgent laughter from the adults. From the bits of conversation around me, I gathered that he’s been a bit of a handful.
When the monks were finished, they went off to the canteen for a meal and the teachers were lined up across the front of the room. Each row of children approached us, handed us an offering of flowers – some were elaborate, some were sprigs of bougainvillea or jasmine gathered at home – and bowed in respect before heading back to his or her seat. Ladawan whispered to me that each flower had a symbolic meaning: grass for longevity, eggplant blossom, chrysanthemums, jasmine, etc. I was surprised and touched when a couple of kids rearranged their places in line so they could personally present me with a gift.
After the ceremonies were finished it was time for lunch. I generally eat with the teachers, and usually it’s some of what the children are offered as well as something else. Today for the special occasion, the teachers brought in their own food.
I often feel like Mikey in that old Life Cereal commercial – three kids are sitting at the breakfast table. The older two are poking at a new cereal suspiciously, while the youngest looks oblivious. One of the older boys suggests, “Give it to Mikey.” The other responds, “He won’t like it, he hates everything.” They slide it in front of the youngest one, who of course digs right in as they watch him intently. The other two sit upright: “He likes it! Hey, Mikey!”
I bring it up because the teachers have developed a new habit. One will offer me something, then put a little dab on my plate (I have yet to turn anything down). Next they all lean in expectantly to see how I’ll react, sometimes with accompanying nudges and grins. I got to try a whole new range of things today. One was a spicy fish paste wrapped and steamed in banana leaf, similar to the size, shape, and texture of a tamale --- hot as hell, but oh so good! There were tiny little meatballs wrapped in cabbage leaves and steamed, and sweet-hot red curry with pork and pineapple. Last was some kind of gooey/sticky/jellied treat made from potatoes. I think. Everything was fabulous. I won’t be at all surprised to find I’ve gained twenty pounds by the time I get home.
All in all, I had a great week!
Phang-Nga Weekend, Cont'd
Okay, okay, I'm Waaaaaaaay behind! This is the final continuation of last week's adventures:
When I left off, I had just finished my exploration of the Dragon’s Cave and the view from the top of the world. When Mr. H and I arrived back at the hotel, I wandered off to explore a bit of the town before dinner. I came across a Hindu couple who had lived in the US for a while, and both of them spoke perfect English. I purchased a wrap, a ‘bah-tung’, which is the perfect hot-weather wear. It’s a tube of fabric that you step into, pull it up as high as you want it, then gather the leftover material in the right hand and roll / twist it tightly, and bring it back across to tuck into the top left. It also makes a great window covering (there are no curtains in my room at the VH), a beach ‘towel’, cover-up, you name it. Plus it’s much easier to walk in than the sarong I brought with me – which I love, but it tangles between my ankles when I walk.
I visited the temple, grabbed a snack from one of the sidewalk vendors; then back to the hotel for an early bedtime. The room was nice and cool, a first since I got here, and the air conditioning was heaven. I took a quick shower and flopped on the bed. It was hard enough to make my teeth rattle at the impact, but the linens were clean and I was too tired to care anyway.
The next morning I am up early to meet my ride to the pier for the package deal, a tour of the bay plus an overnight stay on Ko Panyi. A Dutchman expat, Mike, is staying at the hotel and who was going on the tour as well, and we strike up a conversation while we wait for the ‘sawngthaew’ [a Datsun pickup with a bench along each side of the bed and covered canopy] to take us to the pier. We are joined by an English couple, Liv and Andy, who have been brave enough to rent a car but have arranged to leave it safely at our hotel overnight. The sawngthaew arrives early, about twenty minutes after our scheduled departure date, and off we go. There is a short pit stop to take on three more passengers – Joanna, Lucy, and Ellie, all from England. Our fifteen minute ride to the pier is full of chatter as we exchange bananas and “who are you, where are you from, and what are you doing in Thailand” questions.
Once at the pier we are quickly shown aboard the longtail boat and head out. The first part of the trip takes a very long time, as we are guided through the mangrove ‘forest’. It is low tide, so many of the trees appear to be on stilts. Their network of interwoven roots helps to retain the underlying soil and prevent erosion of the coastline, and also acts as a buffer from storms and devastating forces such as the tsunami several years ago. There is a strange but not unpleasant smell that rises from the decomposing leaf matter, and it is very still. I’m sitting in the front and can hear Andy offering up tidbits of information about the mangroves, and Mike talking politics with Joanna.
It strikes me as funny that here and there are signs nailed to trees like street signs, but it makes sense. [Tried to get a photo, but it came out too blurry to be any use.]
After quite a while we come out of the trees and into the wide bay. The endless sky is the deep clear blue of summer in between the clouds drifting by. Something seems different, and suddenly it occurs to me that the last (and only) time I can recall ever seeing so much sky unbroken by jet trails was the three days immediately following September 11th.
A ring of softly shadowed hills surrounds us like the Valley of the Sun on water. So much humidity is in the air that they shimmer like a mirage. Even my camera picks up the haze. As we draw closer the ethereal forms come into focus. Jagged limestone ‘mountains’ bite at the sky, and exotic birds flit in and out of the fissures where they nest, safe from any predators. We draw near one of these limestone monoliths and see a pair dart by just overhead. None of us know what they are and they aren’t shown in any of our guidebooks, but that flash of scarlet, jade and gold brings to mind a sun conure or lorikeet.
So far our ‘guide’ hasn’t uttered a word, but occasionally gestures to points of interest such as the cave paintings in this recessed alcove about twenty feet above the high water mark. [I would like to believe it’s an authentic prehistoric relic, but have unsuccessfully attempted to research this site since, to no avail. This is such a popular area, I would think that there would be Something on it if it were legitimate.]
We pull into a narrow alcove and glide out of the water and into a bed of broken shell and rock. Our guide cuts the engine and gestures for us to climb out. We all oblige, and he points to a hole in the surrounding rock, partly concealed by vegetation. Andy mutters something to Liv before scampering up to change into swim trunks – not realizing he was in an area which gave an entirely new meaning to “southern exposure.”
Once Andy is covered again and the rest of us get the ‘all clear’, we join him in the alcove, which narrows at the back before opening into a large cave. We traipse along the smooth floor of the cave, flashlights bobbing like giant lightning bugs. Bats swoop and chatter, startled by our presence. Everywhere we look are weird formations carved by eons of water droplets. Over here is a crystallized waterfall; there a wave frozen at the moment it crests. Silica in the walls and floor reflect light and sparkle like glitter everywhere, giving it a surreal, enchanted feeling. That impression is amplified when we see a shimmering green glow reflected on the far left wall. We come around a bend, and there on the right is a narrow window in the limestone. Beyond that is a small pool, open to the sky a hundred meters above. It is the color of liquid emeralds, and for a moment I feel like Dorothy opening her sepia door and seeing colorful Oz for the first time.
After we have taken in as much as we can handle of the cave, we quietly head back to the boat. A short time later we arrive at another rock outcropping. We ride up onto the soft sand beach only about an eighth of a mile in length and narrow, and we have it all to ourselves. The water is so warm that entering it makes almost no discernible feeling on the skin and is clear enough to see sand and shells from a depth too deep to touch. Tiny spotted cuttlefish and a strange, pencil-shaped fish with a white spot on the end of its ‘nose’ flit about us. We swim and sunbathe for about an hour then roll out bamboo mats under the trees and enjoy a nice boxed lunch of rice and steamed vegetables followed by fresh pineapple. After another swim we reboard our boat and head out again.
We meander in and around the limestone for quite a while before we pull up next to a long wooded dock. Our guide again motions for us to get out. Mike, who has been here before, helpfully announces that this is the back side of the famous “James Bond Island”, which was also used as a location for the DiCaprio movie “The Beach”. We wander around, take photos of what is arguably the most famous rock in this part of the world, and are aggressively hustled by the vendors hawking their merchandise from a cluster of stalls at the center of the beach. Finally, we are again underway for our last leg of this trip.
Within minutes, Ko Panyi comes into view. This is a very old Muslim village which is still inhabited. Its occupants are primarily fishermen and their families, their earnings supplemented by offering merchandise and overnight accommodations to adventurous tourists. The entire village is built on platforms above water, the innermost structures anchored to a cliff.
We pull up to a long dock faced by several open restaurants and ‘guest houses’. Most of the tourist rooms are here facing the bay; the inner sanctum is for the island’s residents. A stroll through the surrounding market stalls brings me face to face for the first time with one of Thailand’s many ‘ladyboys,’ who walks up and thrusts a soft red gibbon at me. “You buy. You buy monkey. Special price, just for you.” No, thank you. This one just looks sad. And slightly stoned. Can’t see squeezing it into my carryon… and would be just one more thing with which to torment the dogs.
Suddenly I am swept up in a group of thirty or forty more tourists, as several other boats unload. I wander about looking for my group, but take a wrong turn and wind up in the residential area. There are a small post office and school just around the corner from the market, and an elaborate set up which is probably the resident dignitary’s home. Another turn or two and I’m at the back end of the markets, and then meet up with Mike and Julia. Neither of them are staying, as it turns out. As the other longtails load up it becomes apparent that the 4 Brits and I are to be the only overnight guests this weekend. The reason for the sense of desperation among the merchants is clear. Even during the off season, only five tourists for a weekend night is fiscally alarming.
I return to the docks to see what kind of lodging we have for the night, and am a little taken aback. We are situated in one of the woven bungalows that looks so charming from the water. Up close… there are planks missing from the ‘balcony’ or patio extending from the front (and a fifteen foot drop to the level below). The bungalow itself has doors… but the padlocks have been torn off, and the knobs themselves have no locking mechanism. Scary for Westerners accustomed to daily reports at home of assaults, property theft and burglars etc.
The structure is partitioned on the inside, but there is a two-foot gap from the ceiling. Inside are two twin beds with a shared mosquito net hung at the center over them (so very, VERY thankful for that!) and a small water closet which lives up to its name. There is a toilet, complete with typical “bum pump” as one of my new friends refers to the power washer hose that comes attached to every toilet I’ve seen here. This toilet is one of the ‘in-betweens’ – modern enough to have a seat and toilet bowl and not just a hole in the floor with footrests, but has to be ‘flushed’ manually by pouring water from a large barrel on the floor beside it. TP is only for blotting yourself dry after you hose yourself off, and must be placed in a wastebasket afterwards. Primitive, but the surroundings are incredibly peaceful, and in general I have found nothing threatening here. The fallout to this tiny community would be devastating if something were to happen to one of their visitors.
The facility provides us with an excellent dinner, and we stay up talking for quite a while before retiring. [Unfortunately one of the girls got sick during the night – and her discomfort was magnified by the lack of flushing facilities and the lack of privacy!]
I have some GREAT photos of this excursion, but the iffy inet sitch is causing them to take forever to upload, so they will have to wait til next time. I made the mistake of using a different inet cafe a couple of days ago to post my last blog, and it completely corrupted my flash drive. So, maybe there won't be more pics for a while.
When I left off, I had just finished my exploration of the Dragon’s Cave and the view from the top of the world. When Mr. H and I arrived back at the hotel, I wandered off to explore a bit of the town before dinner. I came across a Hindu couple who had lived in the US for a while, and both of them spoke perfect English. I purchased a wrap, a ‘bah-tung’, which is the perfect hot-weather wear. It’s a tube of fabric that you step into, pull it up as high as you want it, then gather the leftover material in the right hand and roll / twist it tightly, and bring it back across to tuck into the top left. It also makes a great window covering (there are no curtains in my room at the VH), a beach ‘towel’, cover-up, you name it. Plus it’s much easier to walk in than the sarong I brought with me – which I love, but it tangles between my ankles when I walk.
I visited the temple, grabbed a snack from one of the sidewalk vendors; then back to the hotel for an early bedtime. The room was nice and cool, a first since I got here, and the air conditioning was heaven. I took a quick shower and flopped on the bed. It was hard enough to make my teeth rattle at the impact, but the linens were clean and I was too tired to care anyway.
The next morning I am up early to meet my ride to the pier for the package deal, a tour of the bay plus an overnight stay on Ko Panyi. A Dutchman expat, Mike, is staying at the hotel and who was going on the tour as well, and we strike up a conversation while we wait for the ‘sawngthaew’ [a Datsun pickup with a bench along each side of the bed and covered canopy] to take us to the pier. We are joined by an English couple, Liv and Andy, who have been brave enough to rent a car but have arranged to leave it safely at our hotel overnight. The sawngthaew arrives early, about twenty minutes after our scheduled departure date, and off we go. There is a short pit stop to take on three more passengers – Joanna, Lucy, and Ellie, all from England. Our fifteen minute ride to the pier is full of chatter as we exchange bananas and “who are you, where are you from, and what are you doing in Thailand” questions.
Once at the pier we are quickly shown aboard the longtail boat and head out. The first part of the trip takes a very long time, as we are guided through the mangrove ‘forest’. It is low tide, so many of the trees appear to be on stilts. Their network of interwoven roots helps to retain the underlying soil and prevent erosion of the coastline, and also acts as a buffer from storms and devastating forces such as the tsunami several years ago. There is a strange but not unpleasant smell that rises from the decomposing leaf matter, and it is very still. I’m sitting in the front and can hear Andy offering up tidbits of information about the mangroves, and Mike talking politics with Joanna.
It strikes me as funny that here and there are signs nailed to trees like street signs, but it makes sense. [Tried to get a photo, but it came out too blurry to be any use.]
After quite a while we come out of the trees and into the wide bay. The endless sky is the deep clear blue of summer in between the clouds drifting by. Something seems different, and suddenly it occurs to me that the last (and only) time I can recall ever seeing so much sky unbroken by jet trails was the three days immediately following September 11th.
A ring of softly shadowed hills surrounds us like the Valley of the Sun on water. So much humidity is in the air that they shimmer like a mirage. Even my camera picks up the haze. As we draw closer the ethereal forms come into focus. Jagged limestone ‘mountains’ bite at the sky, and exotic birds flit in and out of the fissures where they nest, safe from any predators. We draw near one of these limestone monoliths and see a pair dart by just overhead. None of us know what they are and they aren’t shown in any of our guidebooks, but that flash of scarlet, jade and gold brings to mind a sun conure or lorikeet.
So far our ‘guide’ hasn’t uttered a word, but occasionally gestures to points of interest such as the cave paintings in this recessed alcove about twenty feet above the high water mark. [I would like to believe it’s an authentic prehistoric relic, but have unsuccessfully attempted to research this site since, to no avail. This is such a popular area, I would think that there would be Something on it if it were legitimate.]
We pull into a narrow alcove and glide out of the water and into a bed of broken shell and rock. Our guide cuts the engine and gestures for us to climb out. We all oblige, and he points to a hole in the surrounding rock, partly concealed by vegetation. Andy mutters something to Liv before scampering up to change into swim trunks – not realizing he was in an area which gave an entirely new meaning to “southern exposure.”
Once Andy is covered again and the rest of us get the ‘all clear’, we join him in the alcove, which narrows at the back before opening into a large cave. We traipse along the smooth floor of the cave, flashlights bobbing like giant lightning bugs. Bats swoop and chatter, startled by our presence. Everywhere we look are weird formations carved by eons of water droplets. Over here is a crystallized waterfall; there a wave frozen at the moment it crests. Silica in the walls and floor reflect light and sparkle like glitter everywhere, giving it a surreal, enchanted feeling. That impression is amplified when we see a shimmering green glow reflected on the far left wall. We come around a bend, and there on the right is a narrow window in the limestone. Beyond that is a small pool, open to the sky a hundred meters above. It is the color of liquid emeralds, and for a moment I feel like Dorothy opening her sepia door and seeing colorful Oz for the first time.
After we have taken in as much as we can handle of the cave, we quietly head back to the boat. A short time later we arrive at another rock outcropping. We ride up onto the soft sand beach only about an eighth of a mile in length and narrow, and we have it all to ourselves. The water is so warm that entering it makes almost no discernible feeling on the skin and is clear enough to see sand and shells from a depth too deep to touch. Tiny spotted cuttlefish and a strange, pencil-shaped fish with a white spot on the end of its ‘nose’ flit about us. We swim and sunbathe for about an hour then roll out bamboo mats under the trees and enjoy a nice boxed lunch of rice and steamed vegetables followed by fresh pineapple. After another swim we reboard our boat and head out again.
We meander in and around the limestone for quite a while before we pull up next to a long wooded dock. Our guide again motions for us to get out. Mike, who has been here before, helpfully announces that this is the back side of the famous “James Bond Island”, which was also used as a location for the DiCaprio movie “The Beach”. We wander around, take photos of what is arguably the most famous rock in this part of the world, and are aggressively hustled by the vendors hawking their merchandise from a cluster of stalls at the center of the beach. Finally, we are again underway for our last leg of this trip.
Within minutes, Ko Panyi comes into view. This is a very old Muslim village which is still inhabited. Its occupants are primarily fishermen and their families, their earnings supplemented by offering merchandise and overnight accommodations to adventurous tourists. The entire village is built on platforms above water, the innermost structures anchored to a cliff.
We pull up to a long dock faced by several open restaurants and ‘guest houses’. Most of the tourist rooms are here facing the bay; the inner sanctum is for the island’s residents. A stroll through the surrounding market stalls brings me face to face for the first time with one of Thailand’s many ‘ladyboys,’ who walks up and thrusts a soft red gibbon at me. “You buy. You buy monkey. Special price, just for you.” No, thank you. This one just looks sad. And slightly stoned. Can’t see squeezing it into my carryon… and would be just one more thing with which to torment the dogs.
Suddenly I am swept up in a group of thirty or forty more tourists, as several other boats unload. I wander about looking for my group, but take a wrong turn and wind up in the residential area. There are a small post office and school just around the corner from the market, and an elaborate set up which is probably the resident dignitary’s home. Another turn or two and I’m at the back end of the markets, and then meet up with Mike and Julia. Neither of them are staying, as it turns out. As the other longtails load up it becomes apparent that the 4 Brits and I are to be the only overnight guests this weekend. The reason for the sense of desperation among the merchants is clear. Even during the off season, only five tourists for a weekend night is fiscally alarming.
I return to the docks to see what kind of lodging we have for the night, and am a little taken aback. We are situated in one of the woven bungalows that looks so charming from the water. Up close… there are planks missing from the ‘balcony’ or patio extending from the front (and a fifteen foot drop to the level below). The bungalow itself has doors… but the padlocks have been torn off, and the knobs themselves have no locking mechanism. Scary for Westerners accustomed to daily reports at home of assaults, property theft and burglars etc.
The structure is partitioned on the inside, but there is a two-foot gap from the ceiling. Inside are two twin beds with a shared mosquito net hung at the center over them (so very, VERY thankful for that!) and a small water closet which lives up to its name. There is a toilet, complete with typical “bum pump” as one of my new friends refers to the power washer hose that comes attached to every toilet I’ve seen here. This toilet is one of the ‘in-betweens’ – modern enough to have a seat and toilet bowl and not just a hole in the floor with footrests, but has to be ‘flushed’ manually by pouring water from a large barrel on the floor beside it. TP is only for blotting yourself dry after you hose yourself off, and must be placed in a wastebasket afterwards. Primitive, but the surroundings are incredibly peaceful, and in general I have found nothing threatening here. The fallout to this tiny community would be devastating if something were to happen to one of their visitors.
The facility provides us with an excellent dinner, and we stay up talking for quite a while before retiring. [Unfortunately one of the girls got sick during the night – and her discomfort was magnified by the lack of flushing facilities and the lack of privacy!]
I have some GREAT photos of this excursion, but the iffy inet sitch is causing them to take forever to upload, so they will have to wait til next time. I made the mistake of using a different inet cafe a couple of days ago to post my last blog, and it completely corrupted my flash drive. So, maybe there won't be more pics for a while.
Beluga
Saturday, June... whatever it is now.
Today I was invited to go with Net to her work, a school called Beluga. I was fascinated by everything I saw and learned there.
The Southeast part of Thailand was hardest hit by the tsunami, and parts still haven’t recovered completely. Organizations like Beluga are making great strides in changing that.
Beluga was founded by a German businessman who was affected by the devastation he saw and wanted to do something that would have a positive impact on this area and this community. First, he donated not just money, but materials and training to help people rebuild their communities and their lives. Second, he created a school to help the children who had been orphaned or abandoned in the chaos immediately following the event.
The school is a residential facility for many, but not all, of the children. They are housed in “Homes”, with six children and one adult per facility in order to create a close and caring environment, and provide a sense of belonging. They are taught the standard Thai curriculum as well as English and a wide variety of programs such as sports, music, computers, and traditional Thai culture. There is an area for worship, which provides information on Buddhist, Christian, and Muslim religions, not focusing on any one but allowing the children to see that there are options out there.
The facility also has several bungalows for rent and a restaurant. This gives the kids the option of familiarizing themselves with tourism, which is a primary employment option here, and also offers the facility a means to reach its goal of sustainability beyond its current donors.
While I was there I got to watch a music lesson, teaching the children about a traditional Thai instrument made from bamboo. It is wonderfully simple, and has a rich depth of sound completely unexpected from such a simple looking instrument. The lesson lasted far longer than the attention span of most American kids would have allowed, but these all appeared to be enjoying themselves.
Overall, I was really touched by the achievements of this organization and the unquestionable dedication to giving these kids a way out of the poverty that surrounds them, and doubtful prospects they would have had without Beluga.
Today I was invited to go with Net to her work, a school called Beluga. I was fascinated by everything I saw and learned there.
The Southeast part of Thailand was hardest hit by the tsunami, and parts still haven’t recovered completely. Organizations like Beluga are making great strides in changing that.
Beluga was founded by a German businessman who was affected by the devastation he saw and wanted to do something that would have a positive impact on this area and this community. First, he donated not just money, but materials and training to help people rebuild their communities and their lives. Second, he created a school to help the children who had been orphaned or abandoned in the chaos immediately following the event.
The school is a residential facility for many, but not all, of the children. They are housed in “Homes”, with six children and one adult per facility in order to create a close and caring environment, and provide a sense of belonging. They are taught the standard Thai curriculum as well as English and a wide variety of programs such as sports, music, computers, and traditional Thai culture. There is an area for worship, which provides information on Buddhist, Christian, and Muslim religions, not focusing on any one but allowing the children to see that there are options out there.
The facility also has several bungalows for rent and a restaurant. This gives the kids the option of familiarizing themselves with tourism, which is a primary employment option here, and also offers the facility a means to reach its goal of sustainability beyond its current donors.
While I was there I got to watch a music lesson, teaching the children about a traditional Thai instrument made from bamboo. It is wonderfully simple, and has a rich depth of sound completely unexpected from such a simple looking instrument. The lesson lasted far longer than the attention span of most American kids would have allowed, but these all appeared to be enjoying themselves.
Overall, I was really touched by the achievements of this organization and the unquestionable dedication to giving these kids a way out of the poverty that surrounds them, and doubtful prospects they would have had without Beluga.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Weekend in Phang Nga, Part 2
When I returned to the hotel after visiting the temple, Mr. H told me there was something for me to see up the hill, the “Dragon Cave.” This is the site of a naturally occurring cave which people once believed was the opening to Hell because unlike the limestone caves in the bay, which generally slant upwards, this one leads down into the depths of the mountain. He started up the scooter, and away we went.
The road winds along the mountain overlooking the village, with an overview of the bay in the far distance before turning and heading down again. As we approached the site, I saw something that first appears very similar to a Christian church. This is the crematorium for the monks who reside here. Afterwards, anyway.
Beyond that was a paved lot where we got off the bike and proceeded on foot. To my surprise, as we came around a bend we were greeted by a gruesome assortment of larger-than-life figures depicting scenes of agony and despair. I had been under the impression that Buddhists don’t believe in Hell, but apparently that is not the case, as Mr. H explained. The figures serve to act as warnings for those who participate in what Christians call sinful behavior. Gluttons have their mouths sewn shut; one was disemboweled. Fornicators have all kinds of fun times in store – just ask the women being impaled by spears or giant router-type bits, or the guy whose genitals were being eaten by a large dog. While they were still attached to him.
Further along the path is a scene of judgement: one man is bound and kneeling before a ruler personage, while another man reads from the book of balance to determine whether good deeds outweigh the bad. From the looks given, I’m guessing not.
I entered through the Mouth of the Dragon, and descended through its concrete innards until I was deposited at the entrance to the trailhead. The exit is just under the tail. Of course. No symbolism there, I’m sure.
We descended into the cave, following a paved trail and across two rickety bridges spanning the natural stream for about ½ km until its abrupt end at the mouth of a deep crevasse. Apparently, plans were for the trail to continue for several km, but money and interest ran out. The cave itself was damp and smelled slightly of sulphur, which could easily have been brackish water and bat guano. It was well lit, except for the deepest sections across the stream, and there was a shrine deep within where an image of Buddha sat, draped incongruously with flashing miniature tree lights.
Once out of the cave we wandered around the grounds a bit. In addition to the gory cautionary figures, there are figures from the Ramayana placed along the hillside. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a staircase leading up into the thick jungle, and asked where it went. Mr. H replied that he didn’t know, he hadn’t noticed it before. So, we went up. And up. And up. Before long I was beginning to see spots before my eyes, or maybe those were birds flying below us.
We finally came to a circular overlook. As we were prowling around it, we found another staircase. I followed Mr. H up to another level, and finally to the top section which housed the spire. [Did I mention I’m afraid of heights?]
The view was incredible, although when it came time to descend I questioned whether or not I'd rather just spend the rest of my days here in the clouds.
The road winds along the mountain overlooking the village, with an overview of the bay in the far distance before turning and heading down again. As we approached the site, I saw something that first appears very similar to a Christian church. This is the crematorium for the monks who reside here. Afterwards, anyway.
Beyond that was a paved lot where we got off the bike and proceeded on foot. To my surprise, as we came around a bend we were greeted by a gruesome assortment of larger-than-life figures depicting scenes of agony and despair. I had been under the impression that Buddhists don’t believe in Hell, but apparently that is not the case, as Mr. H explained. The figures serve to act as warnings for those who participate in what Christians call sinful behavior. Gluttons have their mouths sewn shut; one was disemboweled. Fornicators have all kinds of fun times in store – just ask the women being impaled by spears or giant router-type bits, or the guy whose genitals were being eaten by a large dog. While they were still attached to him.
Further along the path is a scene of judgement: one man is bound and kneeling before a ruler personage, while another man reads from the book of balance to determine whether good deeds outweigh the bad. From the looks given, I’m guessing not.
I entered through the Mouth of the Dragon, and descended through its concrete innards until I was deposited at the entrance to the trailhead. The exit is just under the tail. Of course. No symbolism there, I’m sure.
We descended into the cave, following a paved trail and across two rickety bridges spanning the natural stream for about ½ km until its abrupt end at the mouth of a deep crevasse. Apparently, plans were for the trail to continue for several km, but money and interest ran out. The cave itself was damp and smelled slightly of sulphur, which could easily have been brackish water and bat guano. It was well lit, except for the deepest sections across the stream, and there was a shrine deep within where an image of Buddha sat, draped incongruously with flashing miniature tree lights.
Once out of the cave we wandered around the grounds a bit. In addition to the gory cautionary figures, there are figures from the Ramayana placed along the hillside. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a staircase leading up into the thick jungle, and asked where it went. Mr. H replied that he didn’t know, he hadn’t noticed it before. So, we went up. And up. And up. Before long I was beginning to see spots before my eyes, or maybe those were birds flying below us.
We finally came to a circular overlook. As we were prowling around it, we found another staircase. I followed Mr. H up to another level, and finally to the top section which housed the spire. [Did I mention I’m afraid of heights?]
The view was incredible, although when it came time to descend I questioned whether or not I'd rather just spend the rest of my days here in the clouds.
One Battle Won...
There’s a funny story Anders tells about getting a call from one of the volunteer girls sometime in the night because of a spider in the bathroom.
His response: “Well, did you tell it to leave?”
“No…”
A few minutes later: “Okay, it still won’t go.”
“Did you tell it in Thai?”
[Insert laugh track here.]
* * *
His response: “Well, did you tell it to leave?”
“No…”
A few minutes later: “Okay, it still won’t go.”
“Did you tell it in Thai?”
[Insert laugh track here.]
* * *
Having heard that story once or twice since my arrival, coupled with my own personal distaste for that “damsel in distress” role, I have so far fought my own battles in the war against the insect (and reptile) world. I didn’t call for backup when I was dancing with the deranged gecko, or when I found the scorpion on me, or any of the times I’ve woken up feeling like Gulliver in Antland.
That changed tonight when I got home late after spending a considerable amount of time in town updating my blog. I did my usual routine – greet the dogs that always race over to welcome me home, unlock the door, kick off the shoes, and head for my room to get comfortable. To my unpleasant surprise, right at the center of my bedroom doorway was Frankenspider, lurking like Cerberus and barring the way. As I approached he reared up and waved his hairy front legs at me.
I hesitated, then got irritated with myself. After all, it’s only a spider, right? [‘Only’ a spider with a leg span longer than the entire reach of my hand from wrist to fingertips, but who’s measuring.] I calmly backed away, then went out to the rear patio to retrieve the 8’ broom kept out there. I came back in and slowly slid the broom up and across the wall, thinking perhaps Frank would scoot away from it and head toward the front door. Oh, Hell no, he wasn’t about to give up that easily. Instead, the huge spider came barreling At me.
I lost it. Dropped the broom and scurried out of the room, chased off by an enormous arachnid. What a wuss, huh? Frank pursued me along the wall for about a yard, then turned and made a beeline up and across the ceiling to a spot directly across from the doorway. I picked up the broom and started to approach but then Frank did the leg wave again, and every X chromosome in my body kicked into high gear. This is the fastest thing on legs I have ever seen, and the thought of it coming off the ceiling, onto the broom and then onto me (or just bypassing the broom and launching directly at me) actually made me physically ill.
At that point I did the only thing I could do: made the decision to sleep outside.
Two seconds in a chair under fluorescent light with the Convention of Giant Insects out on the front patio was enough to convince me to give in and call the cavalry. Given that it was already after ten and I was mortified at having to call someone to come save me from a spider, I was greatly relieved when Anders agreed to ride to the rescue, bug spray in hand. There may have been some minor groveling on my part. I might have even threatened to come into town and sleep on his doorstep, I don’t remember. I do remember thinking it, though.
As I hung up, I turned back to keep an eye on Frank – didn’t want him disappearing into the woodwork again. What really creeped me out was the way he flattened himself as tightly as possible against the seam of the ceiling tiles… and then kept tapping his front leg as if beckoning me to “bring it on”.
Ages later, Anders arrived (it was probably only a couple of minutes, but felt like an eternity). I was outside with the neighbors’ dog, trying not to feel sick to my stomach just watching my nemesis watch me.
Anders got off the scooter and looked at me, shaking his head. “All right, where’s this ‘huge spider’,” he said. I just nodded through the open door at the large Rorschact blot on the wall. “Right there”.
He walked past me and stopped for a moment. “Yeah, that is one big spider,” he said as he picked up the broom and swung it. The spider leaped off the wall and onto the table below which was loaded with school supplies, books, and other miscellaneous stuff to hide under. For the next hour we tentatively jabbed at stuff, moved the table back and forth (by poking it with the long broom), and finally Anders declared that it must be gone. He had opened the window above the table, and we decided it might have escaped while we were looking for it. Just to be safe he sprayed the table, the wall, the entire area with bug spray. I wasn’t convinced it was gone, and the anxiety was making my skin crawl. Even the palms of my hands felt itchy. “Stop it,” Anders said, “you’re making me itch.”
I couldn’t help it, I did NOT think Frank was gone, and the thought of spending the night trapped in the house with a large, hostile, aggressive arachnid was giving me hives. Big, red, and bumpy hives. Just as we declared the search over (or postponed indefinitely), Anders sprayed the area again. At this point, I was finding carcinogens preferable to pacifism. Anders said, “There he is. Coming up from behind the table.” He blasted the giant spider once more full on with the spray. “He’s acting a little woozy now.”
“Watch him,” I said, “he’s fast.” True to form, Frank sped up and headed straight for Anders – who took the flyswatter in hand and obliterated him with a single splat. Pieces flew in every direction, which I suddenly found funny as hell and couldn’t stop snickering.
I believe in karma, and believe that taking pleasure in another’s suffering only brings negativity – but I was glad to see that spider explode. Damn glad.
I said goodnight to Anders, walked around the house closing the shutters for the night… and discovered I had locked myself out. See? Karma. Well worth it, though.
(OH – and this time I got in without a rescuer.)
Fighting a Losing Battle
Let me preface this by saying that, unequivocally, I love being in Thailand. Have even given serious consideration to the fantasy of never going home. However there are a few things I could really live without, and most of them are mobile. Now, Arizona is not without annoying critters of our own, and a significant number of those are able, willing, and even eager to inflict discomfort at the least provocation. We have red ants, black ants, fire ants, and “pissants.” Not to mention snakes, bees, fleas, wasps, scorpions, and countless other things ready to strike, bite, and sting at any given moment. Still, I’ve never felt as much under siege as I have here in the last couple of weeks.
First of all there are the ants. I asked Net one afternoon what is the best way to “deal” with them here. She laughed, and said that it’s like this: “The ants, they own my place, they just let me live there.” I can fully appreciate that sentiment now. I find them in everything, including “airtight” containers inside the refrigerator. My bed seems to be a favorite gathering place, regardless of whether or not I’m in it. I shake the sheets out every night before I go to bed, but occasionally I have woken to
D’Ants Fever Disco Night happening all around me. The final straw was the night I was having a dream that someone was pulling my hair, and I woke to find a 1 ½ inch black ant excising a patch from my scalp. I couldn’t find any saucers to put under the legs of my bed, so I made “cups” from aluminum foil and filled them about 1” deep with boiling water and orange dishsoap. Ants hate anything with citrus oil in it, so it’s been effective so far – until there are enough casualties to just climb over and reach the legs of the bed again.
Then there are the geckos. I don’t mind them in theory; their ‘blowing kisses’ noises are almost soothing in the background – plus I know that for every gecko I see, that’s several insects I won’t. However, I woke to find one stretched out quite comfortably on my pillow one morning, and that’s a little too close for comfort. He snored. Besides, geckos leave evidence behind. Everywhere. Here’s some random trivia: in case you’ve ever wanted to know what gecko feces looks like, it’s almost like rat droppings but bigger and with a white spot on the end like bird crap. They must be eating some kind of lizard ex-lax, because I just can’t fathom how such a small animal can leave so much excrement. It’s on the floors, walls, windowsills; everywhere. I spend more time cleaning up lizard droppings than I did picking up after four large dogs at home.
First of all there are the ants. I asked Net one afternoon what is the best way to “deal” with them here. She laughed, and said that it’s like this: “The ants, they own my place, they just let me live there.” I can fully appreciate that sentiment now. I find them in everything, including “airtight” containers inside the refrigerator. My bed seems to be a favorite gathering place, regardless of whether or not I’m in it. I shake the sheets out every night before I go to bed, but occasionally I have woken to
D’Ants Fever Disco Night happening all around me. The final straw was the night I was having a dream that someone was pulling my hair, and I woke to find a 1 ½ inch black ant excising a patch from my scalp. I couldn’t find any saucers to put under the legs of my bed, so I made “cups” from aluminum foil and filled them about 1” deep with boiling water and orange dishsoap. Ants hate anything with citrus oil in it, so it’s been effective so far – until there are enough casualties to just climb over and reach the legs of the bed again.
Then there are the geckos. I don’t mind them in theory; their ‘blowing kisses’ noises are almost soothing in the background – plus I know that for every gecko I see, that’s several insects I won’t. However, I woke to find one stretched out quite comfortably on my pillow one morning, and that’s a little too close for comfort. He snored. Besides, geckos leave evidence behind. Everywhere. Here’s some random trivia: in case you’ve ever wanted to know what gecko feces looks like, it’s almost like rat droppings but bigger and with a white spot on the end like bird crap. They must be eating some kind of lizard ex-lax, because I just can’t fathom how such a small animal can leave so much excrement. It’s on the floors, walls, windowsills; everywhere. I spend more time cleaning up lizard droppings than I did picking up after four large dogs at home.
[Leapin' Lizards!]
The droppings aren’t the worst of it. I was mopping up the bathroom floor a few days ago after my morning shower, pushing everything toward the drain and drying off the floors with the squeegee at the same time, when I noticed what looked like a dead gecko behind the commode. I pushed him toward the drain and he woke up, leaped onto the mop, and scurried up the handle and up my arm before I could drop it. I jumped back, slapped at my arms to get him off my body, and beaned myself in the head with the mop I forgot I was holding. He ran across my chest and did circles around my neck while I spun around in circles doing a crazy dance, trying to shake him off and get a look at the mirror to see where he was (nothing like being felt up by sticky little gecko feet before you’ve even had any coffee). I slipped on a damp spot, knocked my elbow on the towel holder, fell against the wall, slipped again in a larger puddle, and dropped down suddenly onto half of the toilet seat – then promptly fell off it. At this point the lizard jumped off my head and onto the wall. He turned back to look at me, squeaked twice, and ran out through one of the perforations at the top of the wall. Don’t know if that was gecko for “Thanks for the ride,” or “You’re crazy!!” Have seen several since then but word must have gotten out; they’re all hanging out by the ceiling these days.
As far as showers go, I’m about ready to fill a bucket and go stand outside. First the gecko, then this morning it was the ¾ inch baby scorpion. Imagine you’re snuggled up in a nice soft bed, snoozing away little insect dreams, when suddenly your bed becomes soaked as it is violently dragged back and forth through wet hair. [Teach me to think my towel was safe, suspended by clips attached to a coathanger.] As I moved the towel from my head, down my arms and across my body, I felt something scurry across my bicep. I reached over to flick it off, assuming it was just an ant, and I saw the pinchers. Then the tail came up. I’ve gotten in the habit of wearing flip-flops in the shower, “just in case”, so I reached down and grabbed one then brought it up to smack my arm. The scorpion dodged, so I smacked myself again. This time I either got him or he was knocked off by the vibration of the near miss. I told Anders about it on the way to school this morning, and he asked if I had carried it outside. Actually, by the time I got done acting out my adrenaline-induced aggression, there wasn’t even enough left to mop up with a piece of toilet paper.
[Full Size]
As I sat down to write last night, I found a new visitor. Frank (short for FrankenSpider) is not so polite; Frank showed up next to my workdesk, and got offended when I showed him the door. Frank is even bigger than Fred – more than six inches from the tips of his front to back legs – and he doesn’t just scurry across the ground like a normal spider, he leaps. Flies, almost. Plus, he has moves that Toby McGuire would envy. I got the broom and tried to shoo him out. He leapt OVER the broom, and bounded towards me, front legs waving. I batted him like a line drive down the center of the room, he caught the edge of my chair on his way by and swung like a gymnast up and over the arm. I kicked the chair and all out the door – but Frank leapt off just before the doorway, and scuttled under the couch. I grabbed a flashlight and peered under (from a safe distance away) but couldn’t see any sign of him. He’s big, and incredibly fast, so I didn’t sleep for more than 20 minutes at a stretch last night, waiting to get pounced on by the giant man-eating arachnid.
On the plus side, Fred the Fridge Spider has either gotten used to my being here or is bored with jumping out at me to see how I react to having a spider with a four-inch legspan threaten me on a regular basis. Now when I come in to get something he just lurks underneath the vent and watches til I go away again. Good to know I’ve managed a peace treaty on one front, anyway.
Weekend in Phang Nga, Part 1
I have weekends off, which is nice because it gives me the time to travel and do some exploring around here. As I mentioned before, I spent my first Saturday here sightseeing in Phuket with Net, and that Sunday getting barbecued on the beach. I’ll never look Thai, but I’ve changed from Casper to Red Martian to tan, finally.
On Anders’ recommendation, I went down to Phang Nga last weekend to see the sights. If you look up James Bond Island and that area, you’ll see exactly where I was. I went with Anders to his school to observe, then his friend Tia gave me a lift to the Muang Thong hotel where I would be staying for Friday night. The owner of the hotel, Mr. Hassim, also coordinates trips to the Bay and will make arrangements for overnights on Koh PanYee island, also.
As soon as my ride left, I was shown to my accommodations for the night. I paid an extra 50 baht for the privilege of having an air conditioned room, which was well worth it. Although the hall and main stairway had beautiful aged wood floors, the room was tiled, as was the surprising ensuite commode / shower area. Out of habit I turned on the television. Surprisingly, the first program on was some sort of Westernized semi-porn, featuring two very scantily clad and heavily made-up women; one with a machine gun and the other riding a thong-wearing male. I was shocked, not only by the (really bad) porn, but that it existed at all since porn is supposedly illegal in Thailand. A quick flip of the stations showed country music in Thai (which was nearly as bad as the porn), a Chinese soap opera (really REALLY bad), news, and three English – speaking channels: a convention on human-rights abuses of Burmese (Myanmar) nationals [ironic, since they are exploited here much as illegal Mexican immigrants are in the States]; COPS from Canada (get out of the car and keep your hands where I can see them, eh?) and WWF. Really????? That’s the interpretation of the best that English-speaking television has to offer? If that’s the case I’m missing less than I thought, which wasn’t much anyway.
Once I had exhausted my channel flipping options I wandered back downstairs to see what the town had to offer for exploration. Mr. Hassim suggested a temple about 800 meters down the street, and said he had somewhere to show me after that. I walked down to the temple, which was nearly deserted aside from the gardener tending to the bougainvilleas. I find it intriguing that the temples I’ve seen all have them growing around the primary temple, but they are usually grafted together so each plant appears to have several branches blooming in different colors.
[Boug of Many Colors]
The doors to this temple were closed, so I took these few photos of the exterior and made my way back to the hotel.
[Temple Entrance]
[Walking Buddha]
[Detail over Residential Area]
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