The Big Sweat

Back to the play-by-play, after a short three week intermission. Where were we? Mae Hong Son.We did our time in Mae Hong Son, the little mountain town on the border of Burma, remember? Next, we decided to make our way to another small town called Pai. So, we're walking merry and light-hearted to the bus station (and maybe we got lost 9 times, maybe we didn't), and meet a very kind and completely hippie old Seattle dude, who breaks down his life story into chunks: the times he was surfing while on LSD; the time he fell in love with and married a woman in Jamaica, but later got amnesia and never went back to her and her unborn child; the time he was an architect. All good stuff. The moral of the story is, he was a nice guy that offered to have his friend in Pai show us around. His friend, however, had the Thai attitude of 'mai pen rai,'the equivalent of 'hakuna matata,'or 'no worries.' Fortunately for us, we're hippies at heart and we take that sort of attitude in stride.

Anyway, Pai is full of farangs, most of them dred-locked and not all there, if you catch my drift. Not exactly the cultural heart of Thailand, but more like OB moved a few miles. The big draw for us, though, was elephant riding. We booked our way right onto the hairy back of an elephant for a couple of hours. Talk about surreal! Let me tell you, bareback on an elephant might be the most ridiculous thing ever, not to mention painful. I think I'll be forever bowlegged after a trip like that. But despite getting tossed around like a rag doll, it was incredible. Our elephant, Pah-Nam, let us climb on up and hang onto her ears while she trekked up into the hills and to a river. Pah-Nam is a big fan of baths, you see. And she wallowed right in, filled her trunk, and sprayed us down over and over. Completely worth every bit of elephant snot!

We had a short recovery from the ride in a local hot-spring hot tub, spent one more night in Pai, then started the first part of a long trek into Laos. The border town on the Thai side is called Chiang Kong, and there rests another Peace Corps volunteer kind enough to let us crash for a night. His host dad decided we should all be friends, and busted out his camera to take pictures with Amy and I, then drove us to the border crossing, which was a small boat across the Mekong River.

I'm a little ashamed to say that we let our guard down here and got ripped off, paying twice as much for the bus ticket as we should have. Regardless, almost as soon as we crossed the border, we found ourselves on a night bus to Luang Probang, one of Laos' major cities. That bus ride caused Amy and I to call ourselves Canadian for awhile, as it was full of loud and rude American girls that might have burned the American flag with just their mouths, if one had been handy. It was 15 hours, several flat tires, a lot of nausea, and no sleep later that we landed in Luang Probang.

To me, this city was nice and beautiful and all- alot of French influence, which meant crepes and baguettes three meals a day. But I can't say that I liked it. It was a town for the tourists, not a bit for the people. Given it was dark, during the entire 15 hours from border to arrival I saw only tiny bamboo huts lining the road, with people crouched beside tiny fires cooking food and warming hands. It seemed to me to be poverty at its most outrageous- and then to reach a fully functioning city, with flush toilets (thank goodness no more squat toilets!) and running water seemed...wrong. Laos, at least Luang Probang, gets its electricity from Thailand, for it hasn't developed any means of its own. And still, I ate my crepes...

Moral issues aside, we did enjoy Luang Probang, set right on the Mekong River and filled with monks in their orange robes and umbrellas. An early morning run took me to the edge of the Mekong as the sun rose and the fog drifted through a gap in the hills to rest on the water. No complaints there.

The way out of Laos was just as nerve-testing. The bus driver and six of his closest friends decided to do all night karaoke in the front of the bus to what I would swear was the exact same song on repeat. To settle his own frustration then, the guy in front of me used his super-chair to recline his way into my kneecaps and crush me into my seat, and the German girl next to me spent the night muttering profanities at the knock-off sleep medicine that wasn't putting her to sleep. From this bus, we only had two more buses and a tuk-tuk until we were back in Phaitone, and safe in Liz's house.

The plan was to spend the next week helping to teach English at her schools, but we still had the weekend to kill- and apparently, it was all planned out for us! Her community was so excited to see us again, they had divvied up our free time to be with them. First off the bat was to meet with Babpat and her nephew Bom, for a nice dinner. According to Thai manners, the oldest person at the table pays for dinner, so our offers of money fell on deaf ears. The next day, we met those two again in Phrae and spent a good part of the day looking at a wat that was designed with the aid of drugs. Well, I'm not sure if it was, but it was over the top for sure. Bright colors and gold everywhere, countless bells and buildings and giant buddha statues, some with orange robes draped over them. It was all over, though, when we walked into a room dedicated not to Buddha, but to a past monk who had served at the temple. We even got to pay our respects in person, for his moldy carcass was conveniently on display.

Eventually we left the wat to meet another teacher who had called Liz, so Babpat and Bom (who now has the words bomb-diggity, awesome, and turd in his vocabulary- don't aske me how) dropped us off at teacher #2's place. She was a terrifying woman. I'm not sure how to describe her any other way. Every where we went she steered us, and the only comparison I can think of is Ms. Trunchbull from Matilda, except for a nicer version. She took us to dinner as well, at a place on a lake where there were the options of fishing for your food, or renting a karaoke room. We did neither, but instead spent dinner listening to all the things we would do together with this teacher. This, I have to tell you, is called 'Thai-knapping.' It's an art form, really, where the hospitality of the Thai people is free-flowing. It can look like anything from being provided with a meal and company, to being taken to a party, or kept to sleepover on the floor for a night or three. It's not really sketchy, like I'm making it sound- they just want to make you feel welcome and comfortable. It's what they do for everyone, and is just a way to show friendship. Still, with the imminent danger of being thai-knapped for more than just dinner, we made a quick break and headed back to Liz's.

When Monday rolled around, Amy and I went to school with Liz, and were stared at by every child and teacher in sight. Every day the schools begins with an hour long assembly to sing a song to the king, and to tell all the grades what they're doing well, and what they're doing badly. With us farangs as guests, however, we had the special treat of being shoved to the front of the assembly and given a megaphone. Short introductions and our Thai names gave the kids a laugh, but really we could have said anything. Noone understood us. Everyone wanted us in their classrooms though! The teachers took it in turns having us come in and teach the kids a song. I don't know how many times we sang 'Bananas of the World, Unite!' that day, nor do I want to.

Tuesday means a different school, so Amy and I decided to go with Liz to that one as well, crossing our fingers that we wouldn't have to sing about bananas again. This time, though, we got to speak with kids who seemed to understand most of the basic questions we asked, and they in turn taught us to sing the Loi Krathong song for the national holiday. One of the classes even taught us to do some Thai traditional dance. The teachers were delighted to have us, and invited us to lunch and to have ice cream after. I had the idea to go hunt around town for some basket weavers, to see if I could learn how to do it. My trip soon became me, Amy, Liz, her co-teacher, and five girls who decided that walking around town was a sufficient replacement for PE class. They became our tour guides, and we did finally get to watch a man weave a basket out of bamboo. But in the process of showing us back, they accidentally took us the long way home, and our walk became a flower-picking and fruit-eating expedition to rival none. I horrified everyone by attempting to do cartwheels. All in all, a priceless day.

The next day was back at the first school, joining in the cooking class to learn how to make fried bananas. Finally, our last day in Phaitone, we hopped a songthao to Phrae (very proud of ourselves for making it around on our own), and went to see a lady we'd met the week before. Her name is Jutarat, nickname Goi (which means the bald spot on Buddha's head), and she may be the nicest person alive. She runs a clothing store that uses organically grown cotton, and then she dyes them using indigo dye. It's the most beautiful stuff you've ever seen, and makes you wonder why anyone ever uses chemical dye. She let Amy and I dye a few shirts, and showed us how the dyes are made from indigo plants and stored in cement vats laid in the ground. But, since not everything can be blue, she also makes dyes from tree bark, plants, insects, and other plants, and can make any color. I could go on for hours...

That night, our last night in Phaitone, Megan rode in on a bus, and Amy and I packed. The four of us left the next day to Chiang Mai for the Loi Krathong Lantern Festival. That first night we got there, though, we weren't having any of that festivity stuff. It was Harry Potter time. Enough said. Next day was our chosen Thanksgiving, and we spent some time gathering our feast- salad, falafel, subway, and a burrito. Not exactly traditional Thanksgiving, but we took it up to the roof of our hostel, lit some candles, and feasted while watching thousands upon thousands of fire-lit lanterns float into the sky like embers from a giant bonfire, accompanied by a million fireworks snapping and popping all over the city.

The lantern festival is one of land and water...lanterns are sent into the sky, and 'gratons' (little floats made out of palm trees, flowers, three sticks of incense, and a candle, and including bits of your own hair and fingernails) are floated down the river to make offerings and wishes of amends for the harm done to the earth throughout the year. Even though we partook and lit a lantern and floated a graton, this is still first and foremost a Thai holiday. I'm fairly sure that every Thai person was out in force in Chiang Mai, either in the parades, lighting fireworks, or sending off gratons with their sweethearts.

Liz and Megan eventually had to leave and go back to their teaching lives, and Amy and I decided to spend one more day in Chiang Mai. We found ourselves at another elephant camp, where the elephants show off their soccer, harmonica, dancing, and painting skills. There were a few baby 'phants, which Amy liked. But that was the last of Thailand. Five weeks, already done!

It took a ten hour night bus to get from Chiang Mai to Bangkok, and I'm still not sure it was real. As we stepped on the bus, I noticed one little cockroach scurrying under a seat. When we sat down, however, I soon found it wasn't the only one! I spent a good portion of the night trying to sleep, waking up, smacking a cockroach with my shoe, and trying again to sleep. That ride, against all odds, eventually ended and led to another bus ride from Bangkok to the Cambodian border. Tired as we were, we were still so proud that we had the wits to ditch the scammers at the border who were trying to rip us off on a visa, and walk on through. A short two hour taxi ride and one more tuk-tuk ride brought us to a hostel in Siem Reap, the gateway to Angkor Wat.

And here we are! We've been three days in Angkor Wat, watching the sun rise and set over the ruins of Cambodia's proudest asset, and hiking among them...
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Random Tidbits:

--some elephants have enough trunk-control to swing it around like a helicopter. Others can use theirs to smack you on the head when you're trying to get a picture with them...

--Angkor Wat has monkeys! We saw a troop of wild macaques along the side of the road today :)

--we had the privilege of doing a thai-knapping ourselves in Chiang Mai. Our roommate at the hostel agreed to go to dinner with us, so we took him to a salad place. Byah!

--when I bit my nail to add it to the graton, it occurred to me that it's the first time I've bit my nails for a good cause. Mama, you should be proud.

--in one of the classrooms, Amy was given the chore of explaining the Santa Claus side of Christmas to the kids. Have you ever tried to explain that to anyone?! One little kid seemed to get it though, and said he was going home that night and hanging up his sock :)

--I went on a walk one evening and these two little kids started chasing me. I taught them how to use my camera- they thought it was a good idea to capture a huge green beetle and put it on my head so they could take pictures.

--Cambodia is hard on the heart so far...kids chase you asking you to buy bracelets or postcards or water. They come up to your table while you eat and stare at you, but won't accept food. They just want money. What do you do with something like that?

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Da End

The Mighty Farang

Well two weeks has suddenly slipped away, so this episode's gonna be a lump sum sort of deal. Kapish? (I don't know how that's spelled, but I feel like a professional badass saying it).

There's no way to really even describe what Thailand has been like these couple of weeks...everything I dreamed, plus the added and nutritious benefits of sweat and spice. If I were to write a song about it, it would definitely be titled Sweat and Spice. :) Anyway, ever since the end of the 30 hours of travel time it took to get here, life has become a surreal adventure. I've wrestled with and lost alot of preconceptions I held about this place- ones I didn't even know I had.

When Amy and I arrived in Bangkok it was 2 am, and all we wanted was to collapse into a bed for days and days. But as the taxi drove toward our hostel and we heard the pulsating sound of music, all I could see were old white men chasing, grabbing, and dancing with young Thai women. I've heard about the sex trade and trafficking and the rampant problem it has proved to be here...but my idea was that when I got to Thailand, the Thai people would seem like the foreign ones, not the sweathy and clumsy fellow Americans I saw.

What I have found since arriving is that I feel more at home here than in most other places, regardless of the language barrier. My face constantly hurts from smiling at these beautiful people, who love me in spite of, and maybe even because, I'm a farang, a foreigner. They yell it from the rooftops and out of passing cars. Heads turn and stare at the newcomers. But usually, it's accompanied by a smile, and giggling children, and krusty but friendly dogs.

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Amy and I got out of Bangkok at our first possible chance, and headed toward the exotic south. A rambling night bus, then another bus, then a ferry led us to a small island called Ko Tao (turtle island), where we could finally sleep off our jet lag and do some scuba diving. The water, as everyone says, was just like bathwater, and the puffer fish of of Te Anote and I now share a special bond. Otherwise, however it was almost a relief to leave the island getaway and start the true adventure (Yeah, I'll admit that I was a little paranoid of getting eaten alive by ants after sticking my hand in a huge, velvety pile of them).

After Ko Tao, a ferry ride took us back to Chumphon, a small town that also happened to have my friend Liz, a Peace Corps Volunteer, waiting for us at the bus station. It felt good to be in the company of someone who could translate for us, and navigate to the outskirts of towns, places we wouldn't otherwise have known about. Liz managed to direct us to a bus, a songhtao (truck taxi), and a random kind stranger's car, out to her fellow PCV's house. Lang Suan and Pak Num happened to be host to long-tailed boat races that day, so as our introduction to the 'real' Thailand we fell into the midst of thousands of staring eyes. The boat races were amazing- about 30 people rowing a 3 foot-wide boat as fast as they could, and the announcer screaming faster than I even thought possible. It wasn't too long, though, before a thunderstorm rolled in, and every one of the thousands of people were running for cover from the pounding rain and thunder.

The rain just proved to be the gateway to another adventure, though, as we had the opportunity to walk through the tented food market and try such delightful (hint: I'm hitting the sarcasm button full on right now) treats as horseshoe crab eggs and pink milk. The next few days were a beautiful blur, as we went night swimming in the Indian Ocean, hitchhiked in the back of crab and water trucks and small boats out to a tiny nearly-deserted (25 ish people) island, and frolicked on a beach the few other farangs have ever layed eyes on. We witnessed the poor slave monkeys, chained and sent up in the trees with little hard hats to pick the coconuts that we devour so greedily. And of course, we went to 7-11, which is the life line of every PCV here. I wish I could write out how the wind felt as we rode in the back of the truck with barely-living crabs feebly flailing and occasionally pinching at our toes. Or what the sand felt like on the abandoned beach, or the sound of our message-in-a-bottle as it soared into its watery (but hopefully temporary) home. This place is wild and free.

Pheew! Well, Peace Corps' time off was soon coming to an end, so we left our friend Josh's home, and traveled with Liz, Megan and Lele (two other amazing companions) back north, splitting off in Bangkok. This time around, Bangkok was much less terrifying. We stayed away from the crazy farang street of the first night, and instead soared through air and sea by sky tram and river boat. Chinatown was another world in itself, full to the brim of people shopping, searching, and eating. Yet again we escaped by jumping on a night bus, this time landing squarely in front of Liz's front door.

It's safe to say we passed out, and only awoke the next morning to shower and then crawl right back into pajamas and laze the day away with short walks, talks and a box. [Not really a box, but I was on a roll.]Good food, though. Fruit out the wazoo, and pad thai till we burst. The next day, Monday, we went with Liz to her school and turned all the children into shy wee ones. They were so scared of having three farangs in one place! But they are adorable. And very respectful- they must bow their heads low when passing a teacher, so they don't stand higher than them.

That pretty much brings us to now. A terrifying ten hour bus ride over the curviest rode I've ever been on has whisked Amy and I away from the safety of Lizs translation and into a small town called Mae Hong Son, on the border of Burma. Who knows what will happen next?

Random tidbits:

--my new Thai name is Phon Dao (phone-dow), meaning 'shooting star.' Lizs precious tiny co-teacher gave Amy and I Thai nicknames! Amy is Mau-ku (muh-kaw), meaning 'grapefruit.' She may be a little obsessed...

--we saw lightining over the ocean! One more thing to cross off my list of things to see in my life

--this place is like Pandora! When we were scuba diving, we saw something called Christmas tree worms, which are like little colorful trees that shoot back into their holes when you get too near

--met some biker dude who had ridden his bike all the way from england, and was heading for singapore. New life goal? Yes please!

--centipedes are super poisonous. Don't let them crawl over your feet :\

The End.