Olofsons abroad

Day 17 on - Shopping in Bangkok

ericolofson — Fri, 4 Jan 2008 22:51:00 GMT

The past few days have been exciting for us, but really boring to talk about -- we shopped. After spending most of our trip looking for presents for family & friends, we looked for ourselves. Most of this was spent looking for Asian antiques and artisan textiles. I can see you getting bored already.

As our flight leaves at 6:40am local time, we decided to forgo hotel accomodation. It doesn't make much sense to pay for a place to sleep between 11pm and 3am, so we're just going to kill time at the airport doing sukokus.

Thanks for reading! We hope that this blog helped you vicariously share in our adventures.

Cheers from Thailand, Eric and Carrie

Random observations

ericolofson — Wed, 2 Jan 2008 00:11:00 GMT

We thought that we'd list a bunch of observations we've had that don't really fit into the chronological storytelling pattern of the rest of the blog. Hope you enjoy.

*People sleep wherever convenient. The following examples are only from a 2-day period in Lopburi, but there have been this many everywhere we've been. I think this is because they are there all day long.

-At our hotel in Lopburi, the clerks sleep behind the desk.

-When I used the "master" computer behind the desk to burn a CD at one internet cafe, I woke up the owner's son, who was sleeping under the desk.

-We've seen the proprietor of a rice store, and another of a fabric store, sleeping on their merchandise.

*Most businesses, and many food carts, have TVs that are constantly turned on.

*When we order food, we never know exactly what we're going to get. We've bought spring rolls containing who-knows-what, "fried rice" that turned out to be stir fried veggies on steamed rice, the "chocolate milkshake" which was "Ovaltine in water" Carrie described in a Bangkok post, and other meals that were nothing like what we expected.

*Pictures of the king are everywhere, and it's unusual for a business to have fewer than 2 or 3 up. Not just pictures, either, but public monuments. At the end of the road where I'm sitting now, a 9' by 12' picture of the king is in a huge, ornate, golden frame and prominently displayed outside of a park. It's lit up at night. You'll even see these outside of private businesses and homes. Every calendar we've seen has a king motif, displaying different pictures for each month of the year. But it's not like a communist state, where it's something forced. I see it more like a tithe. The money spent on the monument is directly proportional to the income, but also like tithing, it's simultaneously compulsory according to the culture but completely volitional as people choose to do so without coercion.

*People, not machines, work the fields. We've seen seed-sowing and spraying done by hand.

*In the country, small fires are everywhere. Not just fields, but every morning and evening you smell the smoke of a thousand small fires in yards. They are left completely unattended, and we've often marvelled that they don't spread. We still have no clue as to the purpose of the fires.

*You see a lot "spirit trees" by the side of the road. After a Buddhist ceremony, the trees are wrapped in brightly-colored cloths and can't be cut down.

*There is garbage everywhere. Sadly, you see a ton of it in the crooks of spirit trees and around the base of the tree. We've carried trash for nearly 30 minutes looking for trashcans. It's rare to see one in public, and when you do, it's usually a large plastic bucket.

*In the center of Thailand, the most common food sold from street carts is grilled meat on a stick. Balls of meat, chicken liver, whole chicken, hot dogs, BBQ chicken, sausages, whole fish (carp, trout looking things, snake fish), and that's just the stuff we can recognize. We could probably identify 20 different options commonly available.

*Thais don't use chopsticks. A fork is used to push food onto a very large spoon. They never use the fork to put food in their mouth.

*Everything you buy is double bagged. For example, this morning we got doughnuts. Each doughnut was put into its own sleeve, then both were put into a paper bag that was taped shut. If we hadn't stopped them, they would have that bag in a plastic bag. The food carts are the same.

*Really, really bad karaoke is everywhere. Today, a woman in her 40s was walking with her child through the streets with a speaker on her chest, singing. She wasn't trying to earn money, she just wanted to share.

*Considering that Thai is a tonal language, the karaoke here is shockingly off-key.

*Soda is always in glass bottles, the only things recycled in all of Thailand.

*People in 90 degree weather wear long sleeves and pants, and don't sweat. If it gets down to 80, expect coats.

*Driving lanes and sidewalks are arbitrary. If you have a food cart and want to take up a large chunk of both, no one will stop you. In town, pedestrians walk in the street more often than the walks, which are littered with food carts and other vendors.

*From reading guidebooks and the net, we expected much ado about feet (you're not supposed to point your feet at people). We constantly see old guys sitting on sidewalks with one leg crossed, showing the world the soles of their dirty feet. Three related points:

-Everyone wears flip-flops or sandals, so all feet are dirty.

-You see men--not women--loitering all over. They'll just be sitting there, watching the world outside of an abandoned store front, or sitting on their motor scooters.

-The only place the feet thing is an issue is with shoes. You have to remove your shoes before entering all temples and many stores (which probably explains the flip-flops).

*The right of way for cars and pedestrians is always taken, never granted.

*Right of way is determined by the largest person or car. When we got here, we'd wait for gaps in pedestrian traffic to open so we could slip in. Now, I (Eric) just walk where I want to go and because I'm a pretty large person here (that's still funny to me), people get out of my way and don't seem put off by it.

*There are very few Thai smokers. There are very few European backpacking non-smokers.

*Thais don't say anything after you sneeze (at least not that we've ever heard).

*At meat markets, vendors shoo away flies with plastic bags attached to bamboo poles.

*A dinner of Thai food for two at a street cart is 40-60 baht. Two slices of toast with jam at a cafe is 35 baht. Pancakes and coffee are 45 each.

*All slices of bread are square.

*Nobody uses a bicycle. It's all mopeds. Manual transportation, including walking, is for those too poor to buy a moped.

*Potato chip flavors: crab, shrimp, seaweed, Thai chili paste, salt and sour.

*Women walk holding hands or hooking arms.

*Public toilets cost 3 baht per use. Toilet paper is not provided.

*Large pools of stagnant water are used as city decoration.

*Internet cafes mainly serve 9-to-18 year old boys who are gaming on the internet. Most popular game? Using the keyboard to make your character dance in step with your back-up dancers.

*Ages 15-25 are considered the adolescent years.

*Searching for clothes is difficult. In the US, Eric wears a small; in Thailand, his chest is too broad for many larges. Carrie can't find a damn thing.

*There isn't a dark beer to be had in the whole of Thailand. It's all local versions of Bud.

*Hotels can't be expected to have soap, toilet paper, or towels. Top sheets are nearly impossible to come by.

Day 16 - Bumming around

ericolofson — Tue, 1 Jan 2008 23:00:00 GMT

Eric: Today was the most boring of the trip, as we killed time while waiting to go down to Bangkok. But given how amazingly inexpensive it is to stay in Lopburi, and given how hectic Bangkok is, a boring day in a cheap town wasn't so bad. After sleeping in quite a bit, we spent the day wandering the town in search of clothes and gifts. I bought a few shirts and ties, both of which I'll need in large quantities once I begin my job next fall. Each one of those I can get here is a chunk of money we'll save as the school year begins and my wardrobe shows its lack of depth.

Carrie: Eric's pretty lucky because guy's shirts and ties seem to fit universally. Everythings a good price, but that doesn't matter if none of it will fit you. I got a real blow yesterday when I saw the cutest dress. Normally I don't even like dresses, but this one had a scene painted on it, like it was from a storybook.

I motioned for the shopgirl to get it down for me to look at. We clearly didn't understand what the other was saying, but she wouldn't take it down. I was pretty confused by that, but motioned again that I'd like to see it. That's when the second shop person said. "No fit." Right, of course. I was thinking like an American. Here they have only one of each shirt, unless they're printed Ts. What an ego adjustment. While Lopburi has lots of big people, (fast food is makng its mark) the average female is still teeny teeny compared to me.

Lopburi is a somewhat less visited area for tourists, so Eric and I are getting more stares. (Or maybe that isn't it at all because Chiang Dao certainly doesn't see many visitors and I wasn't having the same issue with blank stare when we were there.) As we were shopping every once in a while you would hear the word "farang" and know that the shop people were talking about you. Or a few times I saw kids' eyes get bigger when I walked past and they, and their parents too, would stretch their necks to get a better glimpse. Frequently when I turn my head people will quickly look away having been "caught."

Another thing is that the shop keepers have a different idea of service than we do in the US. They hover. If you happen to look at a shirt for longer than ten seconds they will demonstrate that they have the same shirt in yellow, in blue, in pink. They'll start taking the variously colored ones out of their packaging. They'll take other sizes out from under the counter, when really, you're just looking. This combined with the farang novelty might bring two or more shop people over to observe your every move if you step into the store. After awhile I learned to use my periferal vision.

I was getting annoyed by all the unwanted attention and the next person who stared at me, I just stared right back. He was 16ish, and when I didn't look away, he beamed a huge smile at me. I felt much better after that. He wasn't being rude, well, yeah, perhaps he was, but more importantly he was only curious.

Eric: We also realized that we don't leave on Friday, as previously assumed, but on Saturday. We knew that we arrived in the US on Sat. the 5th and reasoned that we must leave on Friday, but we forgot that we'll gain a day when crossing the date line. We think we'll try to see a few more of the Bangkok sights in the extra day.

Day 15 - Monkey, monkey, monkey

ericolofson — Tue, 1 Jan 2008 00:28:00 GMT

Eric: Quick note before retelling the day's events -- A few days ago, we decided not to go to Angkor Wat. Well, more precisely, I decided not to go. Before we left, I had my mind set on going, and up until Day 11 or so, I still did. Seeing Angkor Wat is on my life's pretty short "to do" list, so it seemed like I'd never get a better chance than this. Carrie was interested, but never as invested in going as I was.

Unfortunately, it became increasingly clear to both of us that it was going to be a big struggle to go. Getting there from the north of Thailand would either entail (1) a really expensive flight from Chiang Mai, or (2) a full day or more of travel by bus and train. In the perfect world, option 1 would be the choice, but in the world of graduate students and violin teachers, option 2 was the more realistic one. But even with the finances flying direct to Angkor Wat would mean skipping several places between the north and Bangkok, including Lopburi, home of the mischievous monkeys and the one place in Thailand Carrie was most looking forward to seeing. But being the angel she is, she never ruled Angkor Wat out of the picture.

What I started to see was that it was going to be a huge pain in the rear to go, and the polar opposite to a more relaxed, wu-wei approach to travel. So I told Carrie that I was willing to let it go. We have since decided that we'd like to return to the region someday, perhaps with a more lengthy tour of Laos, Vietnam, and Cambodia. I hope it works out. The upshot of this is that we are having an extremely leisurely path back to Bangkok.

On to our day. We woke up early. As mentioned in yesterday's post, none of our windows closed, so the sounds of the street had unfettered access to our room. We heard dogs fighting, people talking way too loudly, and trucks blasting commercials. That last part is a bit odd, even for Thailand. Throughout our trip, we've heard occasional trucks blaring something from speakers in the back. We've usually figured out that they were political speeches or similar attempts to garner votes. But in Lopburi, the trucks blare commercials.

The one I remember particularly well was the one that was loud enough to get me out of bed and look out the window to find the source of the racket. The truck was moving slowly by at 7:04 am, pictures of pizza on either side of the bed of the truck, and I caught "hot dog" in the stream of unfamiliar language. Having seen pizzas before with hot dogs on them, I knew I wasn't hallucinating and was thereby educated about the ways that Thai marketers bring their messages to the masses.

Carrie: So Eric and I have been betting on who would see the first monkey. In the morning when he was downstairs in the shower, I was picking out my clothes for the day when I heard a rattle out our second story window. It startled me because E and I had talked all about how rickety the windows were. The tin awning outside the window rattled again, and I could see a shape through the white gauze curtains. So that got me thinking it was a cat, but geez it was pretty loud for a cat. When I pulled back the curtain, I was face to face with a monkey. He let go of the window screen and shambled off along the awning.

Eric: By 8:00, we had packed, checked out, and moved to a nice hotel just down the street. Our definition of "nice" has certainly changed as a result of this trip. "Nice" now means that you have a private bathroom, are furnished with towels, and have a trash can in the room. To put things in perspective, our "nice" hotel doesn't have hot showers. Both places charge 200 baht per night. That's $6. When you're only paying $6 for a place to sleep, hot water in your shower is a luxury.

As our trip is growing more leisurely, we didn't have an agenda for the day. We wandered a bit, and I had roasted bananas dipped in a coconut/caramel glaze for breakfast. They were delicious. They cost 30 cents.

I was getting a bit shaggy, so I headed to the barber right next to our hotel. I sat down, was able to pretty easily use gestures to show him what I wanted done, and sat back. Here I am:

(About all of the yellow: The king, whose color is yellow, was born on a Monday, which is why you see so much yellow on Mondays. All of the barbers wore yellow shirts under their smocks).

The haircut is fine. Afterwards, he removes the yellow robe and shakes it off. I still had the towel on my neck, so I waited for him to shake it off, and was looking at the price chart to see how much it would cost and thinking about how I could request a few Q-Tips. That didn't happen. He put the robe back on, grabbed a cotton ball, dipped it in some liquid, and started applying it to my sideburns. He then grabbed a straight razor and proceeded to shave my face. That was a little odd, I thought, but not so out of the ordinary and let it happen. I hadn't shaved in two days, but was planning to return to the hotel room immediately after the cut to shower and shave. Shaving, especially dry-shaving, a couple of days of stubble hurts. I tried not to be a total wuss, and reined in my impulse to flinch. Perhaps that is why the shave was spotty and needed to be touched up later.

The weird part came next. He put some sort of powder on my forehead, ears, and nose -- pretty much every surface he had not yet cut. He then ran the razor over the rest. That's right, not only did I get my first second-party straight razor shave today, but for the first time in my life I had my forehead shaved. Of what, I have no idea. Better safe than sorry, I guess. My nose, and all the external parts of my ears are likewise fuzz-free. Throughout this entire process, I am stealing occasional looks at Carrie in the mirror, who can hardly contain her amusement.

After a brief cell-phone call, my barber/hair removal technician got back to work by cleaning my ears. A metal instrument like a chisel with no sharp edge was used to remove my ear wax, followed by a Q-Tipping, and--this is hilarious--using his forefinger to deliver a brief "pop" on that little piece of cartilage that covers the ear canal from the front. Ha!

After trimming my nose hairs and dousing my face and entire hair line (what little of it there is) with a alcohol-based aftershave, he gave me a short back and shoulder rub. The whole process took about three quarters of an hour, and cost me 60 baht, or $1.90. We stumbled out of the barber both bemused and confused, and headed back to the hotel where I briefly showered and finished off the stubble which the barber had mercifully left.

Carrie: Eric didn't even notice the other perks his fellow patrons were receiving including knuckle cracking and chiropractic care.

Eric: We left again, spending a couple of hours during the hot part of the day in an internet cafe, keeping y'all updated about our goings-on. On our way out of our hotel, we came face-to-face with a monkey in the halls:

Recall that this town is overrun with monkeys, and that nearly every business is open-air, and it's not too surprising.

After a light, late lunch of dim-sum, we resumed our wanderings and stumbled on these great ruins of a temple complex that was originally built in the 14th Century and renovated in the 17th. There were some great photo opportunities (I'm in the tree in the 3rd picture):

After the ruins, we headed to the local monkey hang out. In addition to our former hotel's awning the monkeys spend a lot of time handing from telephone wires and crawling over buildings. We saw two of them fighting on some wires while one urinated on the street below. We're wearing our hats and staying under the awnings.

It's really odd to see, because they are as numerous as people in their small corner of Lopburi, and infinitely mischevious. We watched one of them sneak behind an old woman and steal a large bunch of parsley out of her bag, then run only about 4 feet away and stare at her while he ate it. At the ruins, the picture below is one of the more comical things we saw: several monkeys, at different points, tried to suckle at the teat of the Buddha statue. You could see their little tongues moving. It was hysterical.

Day 14 - Travel to Lopburi

ericolofson — Mon, 31 Dec 2007 17:03:00 GMT

Today was taken up almost entirely with travel as we slowly make our way down to Bangkok from the northern parts of the country, stopping along the way to see the sights. We caught a tuk-tuk from our guesthouse at around 9:00 and headed for the bus station. The tuk-tuks in Sukhothai are a bit odd; the driver sits on a modified dirt-bike situated in back of a cart. Here's Carrie and our driver:

The bus to Phitsanulok left at 9:30 and took about an hour. The plan had been to then catch the 11:00 bus to Lopburi, which would put us in town at 3ish. Getting off public transportation can often be hairy, because there is usually a rush of people and we have our big, heavy, awkward bags which often don't fit through the skinny doors.

Now, a little information about our bus: Carrie and I were sitting in the back, with the rear door directly in front of our seat. There are 3 steps down, and they are quite shallow and steep. The middle step has a large wedge cut out of it, about 1/4 of the entire step, enabling the door to open. The door works like a phone booth doors that opens inward, and the cutout gives it room to swing open. Not like it matters, as the door was broken and held open with a bungee cord for our entire ride, but the steps were modified nonetheless.

Carrie, aka "Monday's grace," was hastily getting off the bus when her foot found the wedge-shaped space where you'd expect a stair to be. I was standing right behind her and watched as her feet slipped from under her. You know those old Loony Toons when Sylvester the Cat is running down some stairs to catch a mouse, only to have the stairs turn into a ramp, causing him to fall on his backside? Yep, that's what Carrie looked like. Her feet went flying out and she landed. Hard. On the back of her head. Don't worry, she's OK, but she is sporting 3 pretty evenly spaced bruises where she hit the edge of all 3 steps.

Carrie: Yeah, This going to Thailand isn't quite exciting enough for me, so I like to add a little drama where I can. I was seeing spots, and was startled to find myself no longer vertical, but I didn't black out at any moment. I wasn't able to talk at first which was pretty scary, and did have the sense to think it would be best if I sat down right away.

There were people with me immediately, a woman that helped me get up from the bus steps and sit down, and bus officers, and other kind people who would point sympathetically at my head or red palm and knee. Meanwhile Eric, dearest Eric, is very frantic and I remember him excitedly asking in English about getting me ice and where is there ice, but no one knew what the word meant.

Eric: Carrie was clearly woozy, and by the time I caught up with her she was already seated on the curb by the bus. I looked at the two women who were helping her and asked where I could find ice to put on her head. I tried to accomplish this by saying "ice" and then placing my cupped palm on the back of my head. The women mimicked my icing motion and scrunched their brows, agreeing with me that this was serious, and that Carrie needed ice.

I then pointed in sundry directions around, then turned up my palms and assumed a quizzical expression. I thought that this was a clever and effective way of saying I don't know what direction there was ice to be had, and that I'd appreciate directional assistance. Again, they mimicked icing and nodded in agreement that Carrie was in pain and could use some ice.

I don't recall if I first saw a small food stall/restaurant on a corner some distance away, or if a friendly bystander had interpreted my gesticulating and pointed me in the right direction, but I ran off to the food stall to get ice. That place didn't, but there was a row of them and I went to each one, finally finding some ice at the fourth.

Right when I was going to get it, two very nice strangers ran up to the store, and loudly called for me to follow them, which I did. They led me to a pharmacy, which wasn't a bad thought, just not the right one. I turned around, which I hope I didn't do rudely, and quickly went back to the place with ice. When I got back to Carrie, I noticed the bag had a hole.

Carrie: The bus station had its own medical personnel, and everyone was trying to usher me in, but I didn't like to go until Eric had come back. When he returned there was a doctor and two nurses. I was having trouble figuring out their English, but Eric seemed to be better at it. They gave me a cream and some pills to take after eating. "Immediately!" after eating. Immediately was the one word this nurse DID know in English, she used it several times. She also called my bump a lemon, which I thought was pretty funny. It's true enough. My hat sits a little off because of it.

Eric tried to pay, but they just waved him away. And after hearing that we'd missed the last bus (why the last bus for Lopburi goes at only 11AM is beyond me) they were offering to find us hotels, and eventually gave us a free ride to the train station, where we DID catch the train.

Eric: We had a couple of hours to kill before our train, so I went exploring the area for some food and gifts while Carrie nursed her wounds. I didn't find any gifts, but I did find some mango rice for Carrie. That sentence actually doesn't do justice to the profoundness of the act. Carrie's favorite Thai dish, hands down, is mango rice. It's just sticky rice and mango (which are SO fresh and SO good here) drizzled with a mixture of coconut cream, salt, and sugar. It's the most refreshing desert you'll ever eat, and Carrie has been hot, sticky, and looking desperately for this dish for a week. That I found it, on this day, just about makes me a hero. I also saw some more severed pigs heads. Pictorial evidence below:

The train was the 3rd class, "ordinary" train (the picture at the top was taken from my seat). This means that it didn't have air conditioning and was slow. In fact, in Thailand, the bus is almost always a better option than the train; quicker and more comfortable. I would be hard-pressed to think of 5 1/2 duller hours. On the plus side, the lighting was great, there were some interesting people, and I got some great pictures. Here are a few:

Carrie: Our trip was "twenty percent longer than advertised," as Eric put it. But pleasant, and I think the long hours of gentle movement prevented my back from seizing up. We didn't get to Lopburi until it was dark out, around 7:15. So dark that we fished the flashlight out of the pack, just in case. From what I'd been hearing I was fully expecting a monkey to assault us as we debarked, swiping our camera for their owner lurking in the shadows.

Eric: Carrie is pretty bruised and not up to the task of carrying her backpack. This means that I get both. I have mine on my back, and hers strapped to my chest. My pack extends above my head, and I can just see over hers. I'd guess that between the two there is about 50 pounds. I weigh just over 150. She has our small daypack. I look like Carrie's manservant, forced to bare her ladyship's excessive packs while she gallivants along looking for sweetmeats. The road to the center of town is lined with late night food stalls and are so busy that the sidewalks are packed with motor scooters and diners. They didn't even bother to stifle their laughs. Would you?

Carrie: Lopburi has a much better feel than Sukhothai. (Sorry, Samart, but it's true.) This is a party town. The people are all young, and much less modestly dressed than we've seen so far. Then again we are catching it at holiday. People here are gearing up for New Year's. Eric and I have pretty much forgotten about the holidays, being so focused on our new and strange surroundings.

This hotel is the first dump that we've stayed in. The room is above the bar and for 200 Baht, the price is right. We spend more on breakfast than this room cost. The hotel reminded me a little of a saloon in the old west. Across the street there was a band singing old rock songs, Hotel California, Black Magic Woman etc. It's the most English we've heard in a long time. The room is nearly bare and none of the three windows close. In one window, the screen doesn't even close, allowing unfettered access to our room.

Eric set up old school booby traps to catch anyone who might shimmy along the metal slant outside our windows trying to sneak in. It was supposed to make a loud rattle, but I don't know if we would have heard it over the band. For as the bed, it is by far the softest we've slept in since coming. Ironic.

Gallery: Lopburi

ericolofson — Mon, 31 Dec 2007 00:59:00 GMT

Travel to Lopburi and sights

Day 13 - Ruins of Old Sukhothai

ericolofson — Sat, 29 Dec 2007 22:57:00 GMT

We spent the day at the ruins at Old Sukhothai, the first capitol of Siam. They are spectacular. The site is so large that you have to rent a bicycle to get around. Except for a palace and a modern monument to the first king of Siam, the ruins are all temples. It's not clear if there were also houses at one point in this portion of the city (there are plenty of grassy areas where other structures certainly were), or if this area was something of the "religious district" and the people lived elsewhere. In any case, the entire site is visually stunning. We nearly filled up the camera's entire memory card by 2:30. I'll post a couple below, but the Sukhothai gallery has more.

Carrie: I also wanted to note that I had my first run in with a squat toilet. Though its entirely possible to get by without using one, its part of the Thai experience. First off I had to pay 3 baht to use it. Approximately one penny. I don't know if its more ridiculous that one has to pay, or that one has to pay mere penny's worth.

The stalls are normal, with the little slide to lock the door behind you. And the toilet sits a few feet off the ground. It's got grippy parts on either side of the hole. In fact there could be a really neat abstract picture juxtaposing a squat toilet with a dinner plate on a placemat. Visually they're about the same size and you put your feet where the silverware goes.

Tanja told me you're supposed to face the back wall, but years of conditioning made me face toward the door. Maybe that's why it felt like my feet were WAY too far apart. There is no flush mechanism, which I wasn't prepared for. I kept examining all sides of the "bowl" and glancing suspiciously at the bucket of water with the floating tupperware bowl in it. No way I was gonna touch that filthy thing. In the end I left without flushing at all. There was no soap at the sink either.

The buses that run out to the ruins are more like modified flat-bed trucks:

After some food and shopping (for ourselves, for once!), we started looking for the bus home. We were told that the last buses depart at 5pm, and it was about 4:40, so we started walking along the road where they travel so that we could look in shops while waiting for the bus.

After about 15 minutes of walking and not seeing a bus, we started to get mildly concerned. Right after we passed the area with shops, we saw an extended-cab truck 100 feet ahead backing up in the road (yes, in the road, not the shoulder...but this is par for the course in Thailand). We had no reason to think that this had anything to do with us, so we kept our easy pace in his direction while he went backward in ours. When we met, he rolled down his window, asked where we were headed, and told us to hop in.

[E: OK, Mom, I know that right now you're yelling at the screen "you didn't get in, right?!" Remember, though, that Thailand is home to the nicest people on earth and that the list of things we have been given by gracious Thais includes: a bag of oranges, dinner complete with soup and a cold salad dish, two Buddha pendants, two bracelets, bottomless glasses of Coke and whisky, and a Christmas present (which, oddly, turned out to be a hand-towel, albeit a quite nice brand new one). Getting a free ride didn't seem out of the ordinary whatsoever. We never thought twice about hopping in.]

After we got in, he introduced himself as Samart, a mechanical engineer working in Bangkok; his title, according to his business card, is "chief senior engineer for product development," although he didn't look a day over 25. We talked a bit about our travels and why he was in Sukhothai. Turns out that this is his hometown and that his wife still works here.

(Carrie: I would like to interject here, that up until this point Eric and I have been bad mouthing Sukhothai, dirty and industrial and bleh, certainly no Chiang Dao. But as soon as Samart spoke so proudly about his city, we started chiming in with how fantastic it was. And with sincerity. It's hard to dislike the place when it clearly means much to him.)

We asked him if he could suggest a good restaurant, and he showed us a place owned by a friend of his, which is located right by our guesthouse. He even hopped out of his truck to tell his friend that we would be coming in tonight, then backtracked to take us back to the guesthouse. That's when he gave us his card, wrote his personal phone number on the back, and told us to call him if we need anything.

We just can't believe how nice people are here. It's great.

Carrie: We did end up eating there, and while the food was excellent, we were the only ones in the restaurant. Two girls watched the Disney channel while their grandfather watched a soccer game with headphones on. The very sweet grandmother noticed that I was all paranoid about mosquitoes (65 is plenty thank you) and she brought over a smoking "mosquito coil" to keep them away. All without speaking. It was very sweet.

Gallery: Sukhothai

ericolofson — Sat, 29 Dec 2007 22:17:00 GMT

Old Sukhothai

Day 12 - Travel to Sukhothai

ericolofson — Fri, 28 Dec 2007 23:04:00 GMT

The bulk of our day (from 8:30 until 4:30) was spent on two buses en route to Sukhothai, the location of some fantastic ruins. The first bus was so cramped that we couldn't get seats together; I sat behind the driver next to a monk who was constantly smelling some liquid from a vial (he also took a cough drop, so I assume it's some local cold remedy). Carrie sat in the back, where she was able to hear local hill tribe women chatting giddily about something.

Carrie: It was kinda neat. I'm a bit of a novelty here, with my pale skin, so everyone notices me and we smile at each other and people tend to gesture a bit more so I can follow the gist of the conversation, though I obviously won't understand the words.

There was a guy in soldier garb, and his buddy who was holding a windshield for a bike helmet, and the Lisu women. The younger woman sat next to me, and she was kinda plump for a Thai, a so we were nice and cozy. And the Lisu next to her was trying to covertly peep around at me (Hill people don't see nearly the number of farangs that a city person might). I don't know what all of us were smiling about, but it was all so friendly. I guess because we were such an odd assortment of people anyway. That's all the better I can explain it.

Eric: On the second bus, we were stuck in seats with about 6 inches of legroom (no exaggeration). These chairs were not made for big people. They were also permantly reclined, which is great if you want to sleep, but good for little else. Carrie had the window seat, so I was able to stick one of my feet into the aisle. Unfortunately, my seat was also quite crooked and tried it's damnedest for the entire ride to push me into the aisle. Not comfy. I arrived in Sukothai with quite a headache.

Sukothai is actually split between the ruins, which are of the first capitol of Siam and are called Old Sukhothai, and the modern town about 7.5 miles away, called New Sukhothai. We'll see the ruins tomorrow, but we're not impressed with New Sukhothai. It's dirty, smelly, and as far as we can tell, bereft of chocolate. (Carrie: on the positive it is also befeft of chickens. That means we'll be sleeping in. Nothing like a 5 AM chicken coop to annoy a person.)

Think of all of the stereotypes of Detroit, scale it down to 40,000 people, and move it to Thailand, and you'll get the picture. On the bright side, the ruins are supposed to be among the most spectacular in Thailand, according to Christopher and Mongkun at Chiang Dao Rainbow. And we trust both of them, so despite our evening in Thai Detroit, we're looking forward to the morrow.

This guesthouse isn't the best we've been in. But it is much cheaper, so I shouldn't expect high quality, another rock hard bed and the bathroom lacked toilet paper. Fortunately we carry our own. It's called the Garden House, and it does have some neat orchids and trees around the huts. I met my first starfruit tree. Eric and I had tried one early on in the trip, but I don't think it was quite ripe. Kinda tart. These ones didn't look any riper, but perhaps it isn't their season.

Actually I discovered that the mango rice I have enjoyed in both Bangkok and Chiang Mai may have been an anomaly, as mango season is over. I've been searching for it all over. In fact I never did get any while in Chiang Dao. Now that we're here, Eric and I are appreciating even more how truly wonderful Chiang Dao was.

Our evening was mostly spent at an internet cafe getting caught up. A few nice things though. First there are a few beautiful fat toads that like to sit outside along with all the pairs of shoes of the inside gamers. Eric got some good photos. Also while waiting for me on the computer, Eric sat outside and chatted up with a friendly Canadian, who was waiting for her fiance who was on the computer. The four of us ended up going out for beer/sodas and talking a whole lot about our respective governments. They were a lovely couple, but politics do tend to drone on a bit for my liking.

And how's this for a small world. If you recall back to when we were leaving Chiang Mai and we passed on the the little travelers wisdom we had to the two girls, well, here they were again!

And some bad news on the mosquito front. I don't know what happened. Its going to sound like I'm making it up, but honestly Eric can verify. I have 65 bites. Yes, and 51 of them are on the right leg most on the outer side and all but three below the knee. I could tell they were buzzing around while we were sipping our drinks, but I had no idea. They aren't itching for the most part, but geez, 65. Tomorrow I'm buying something to put on them. Looks like I have chickenpox.

Eric only has 6 now. We deduced that his leg hair keeps them away. That's why they seem to focus on his ankles. What's my uglier option, red bumps or hair?

Gallery: Chiang Dao

ericolofson — Thu, 27 Dec 2007 20:29:00 GMT

Day 11 - Tour to hill tribes and Burmese border

ericolofson — Thu, 27 Dec 2007 17:23:00 GMT

Eric: Our day was spent on a tour with Christopher, the proprietor of Chiang Dao Rainbow, our guesthouse. He used to teach literature at Oxford, but he is also a wealth of knowledge about the political history of the area. The tour we went on took us through the mountains north of Chiang Dao.

Carrie: This road was so incredibly winding, almost constant swerving and switchbacks that were 180 degrees. During this ride I am writing furiously in my little notebook everything grain of wisdom Christopher utters, while bracing myself on the arm rest. Nine pages of scribbled glyphs.

We stopped at a mixed Lisu/Lahu hill tribe village. Although they both live in the same town and interact daily with members of the other tribe, they keep their own traditions. For instance, the Lisu build houses flat on the ground with woven bamboo walls, whereas the Lahu build houses on stilts with wooden walls. As far as I can tell, they also retain their own languages. The village we were at is one of the largest in the area, with around 60 houses.

There was a group of Lisu women, all in traditional dress, by the road sorting grain and produce. I had assumed that the hill tribes mostly wear the traditional dress for the benefit of tourists or only for special ceremonies, much like Native American tribes, but this isn't the case. Christopher said that nearly all of the hill tribes, with the exception of the Lahu, wear traditional costumes on a daily basis. The costumes of the Lisu were plain but stunning: they didn't have the necklaces and bracelets that often adorn the costumes from other tribes, but the fabric was a mix of bright, almost neon, colors (you can get an idea from this picture I got from Google).

As Christopher took us through the town explaining the farming methods, struggles, and history, a couple of young girls walked up a short hill from the preschool/daycare center and walked by us. It seemed that the entire purpose was to get a better look at us, as they turned around after a couple of minutes and headed back to the preschool.

Unlike the last time we saw kids, we were prepared with bouncy balls in hand to pass out. (Carrie: Be assured that giving out something not naturally in their culture was a discussion E and I had gone through many times in the past, checking also with Christopher to better understand local reception.) I knelt down when they were about 10 feet away, bounced one so they knew what it was, and gave it to one of the girls. She took it, giddily, and ran back down to the school. Her friend ran after her before I could give her one. A Lisu man was walking behind them, so I gave a ball to him and pointed at the girl who didn't get one. He knew what I meant, and called her and then tossed her the ball.

Meanwhile, the first child had spread the word at her preschool that the farang were giving stuff away, and we were soon swarmed by all 15-or-so kids in the class. Several of the kids would even hold their ball behind their backs and reach out their other hand, hoping that I wouldn't notice! When I looked behind their backs and pointed to their ball, they would run away laughing, only to repeat the trick. We had a blast. We're so glad we brought the balls along, as we certainly wouldn't have had this ability to make contact with the kids if we hadn't.

Carrie: I was doing my best to snatch a picture, but the kids could hardly stop bouncing in their giddy. I managed to catch a few of those hummingbirds on film.

Eric: After the village, we pressed on toward the town of Piang Luang on the edge of the Burmese border. Before hitting the town, we passed by two impromptu military roadblocks. They waved us on, and Christopher explained that they were probably looking for refugees, although he couldn't be certain. We were probably in the car for an hour each way, so we got to pepper Christopher with all of our questions. He has not only lived in Thailand for 3 1/2 years, but also speaks and reads Thai, and so is very in-tune with the cultural and political issues in the region. I'm sounding like a broken record, I'm sure, but this educational experience is just what Carrie and I have been craving. The trip cost 1200 baht apiece ($36), and it was worth every penny, and many more, just for the information.

Piang Luang is a fascinating town, that doesn't really get Western tourists unless Christopher takes them. The town was originally settled by the Shan people, an ethnic group whose political situation is somewhat like the Kurds: they have a tight-knit society with their own dialect and customs, aren't Thai or Burmese, but don't have their own country.

Christopher says that a major part of the conflict in Burma right now is between Shan revolutionary forces and the Burmese government, which would prefer if the world turned a blind eye so that they could go about committing genocide. Anyway, this Shan town had a large influx of Chinese in the 50s, when some members of the Chinese 4th National Army moved into town. (I have no idea about the history of this unit, but I'll include it here in case any readers do). Now, although they get along well with the Shan in the city, they have their own section of town.

The main road in town runs, roughly, north to south, and looks like any other small Thai town. But if you go one block to the left, the Chinese main street runs parallel. This street runs on the ridge of a small hill, and when you cross the hill, you descend on a small valley that is entirely Chinese. The high school, which flies the flags for the King and for Thailand on the outer wall, is adorned with Chinese characters saying the name of the school, and who knows what else.

The most interesting part of this city, however, is the monastery which houses Wat Wieng Fa In. This temple was built by the Shan before the Thai and Burmese governments really cared about the border. In the latter part of the 20th Century, however, that changed. It turns out that the monastery perfectly straddled the border. The complex was promptly split into two sections, and a bamboo fence erected between the sides. Since then, the Thai government has helped the Shan restore the compound to be a functioning monastery.

Now is where the story gets complex. The main chedi (also called a stupa) houses several Buddha images, each of which is contained in a small alcove adorned with paintings, and the alcoves are arranged in a circular pattern around the chedi. The Buddha images run the cultural gamut, from classic Thai meditating Buddhas, to more severe looking Buddhas in the Shan style, to the fat Chinese Buddha that is more popular in the West. The paintings on the wall are done in a distincly Indian style and depict both scenes from the Buddha's life, as well as scenes from the Ramayana, a Hindu epic poem. The young novices in the monastery are all Shan orphan refugees from Burma. On the Burmese side of the border, the compound was transformed into a military base. So these young Shan orphans look across a 50-yard-wide ravine to see Burmese guards! The mix/clash of cultures at this one spot is mind-boggling.

A few years ago, this was actually a pretty violent spot; Christopher told us of a Japanese tourist who got out of his car to take pictures of the Burmese guards, who retaliated by blowing up his car with a bazooka! That's not the case now, but the Thai government has used the occasion to dig their finger into the side of the Burmese government. At this compound, directly across from the guards, the government built 3 covered benches so that visitors and monks can sit and stare at the Burmese. I have a whole new respect for the Thai government.

Right before leaving I went to the restroom, which is a series of 4 stalls in a rectangular concrete structure which faces the courtyard/parking lot. Bathrooms in Thailand, especially ones at temples, are often like this. Another common feature of bathrooms is that the stalls are separated by walls that are about 8 feet tall and flat at the top, above which there is a small space between the wall and the slanting roof. This space is about 2 or 3 feet tall at the highest point at the part of the wall closest to the door, and gradually shrinks as the roof slopes.

So, the moment I shut the door behind me, I notice that there is a hole in the door where the knob should be. There is, however, the metal post that locks into the door frame, which it did. After doing my business, I turned my attention to the sharp pieces of metal that are magically manipulated by the knob and pull the post out of the frame. All I succeed in doing is roughing up my fingers. At this point, I'm looking out the hole and hoping for...who knows what, it's not like a locksmith would just happen to be going out for a 1:00pm stroll to look at Burmese guards. I don't see Carrie, and right before I call to our erudite, ex-Oxford professor tour guide for assistance vacating the loo, I take stock of my options.

That's when I saw the gap between the stalls (luckily, I knew that all the other stalls were empty). The roof was supported by some metal beams screwed into the top of the wall, meaning that the largest crawlspace was a triangle just over 2 feet long and about 18 inches high at it's highest point. I jumped up and grabbed the metal beam flush with the top of the wall and put my foot on the thin ledge that formed by the top of the ceramic tiles that go up about 5 1/2 feet on the wall. I managed to get up and slide through the space and drop into the next stall. Christopher was a bit curious when he saw me striding across the red dirt toward the truck, but from a different stall than I entered. When that locksmith eventually gets around to opening that door, I'm sure everyone will be stumped by the streaks of red clay on the wall that don't start until a good 5 feet up.

Boy am I glad I've lost weight. Any more girth and I'd still be stuck, either waiting for the locksmith or partway through the space between the stalls.

Carrie: At dinner tonight the guesthouse had a full house and we were seated with a Thai man. It was kind of awkward because we didn't know how well he spoke English, so we did a lot of nodding and smiling. I had also brought along a coconut that Eric and I had found while wandering after the caves some days back. I had carried it with us up 500 stairs when we went to the forest monk's temple, Wat Pho Poly, (not to be confused with the cave hermit). Come to think of it I don't think we wrote about that Wat. I'll have to add some later. Anyway, I carried this albatross quite a distance in hopes of eating my very own found prize.

The Thai man laughed when he saw it. "Old coconut" he called it. I wasn't sure how he could tell without cracking it open. He said we wouldn't want it; it was only good for coconut meal. I've had coconuts just like this one many times, and I rather like them, so I knew I DID want it. But he kept insisting that I needed a "young coconut." Then I finally figured out what he was talking about. The young coconut was that husky coconut I'd had my drink out of on the first day. I remember being nearly grossed out by the slimy sweetness of the soft inside. The only type of coconuts we get in the US are "old coconuts."

The Thai man gestured that I should have Mong Kun crack it open for me. I was thinking he'd have a mallet somewhere, but no. He took a cleaver and in six sharp whacks the top came off in a near perfect circle. He popped a straw inside and handed it back to me. After drinking it, I tried loosening the meat with a spoon, then a knife. The Thai man watched clearly amused. Back in the room after dinner I splintered it apart with Eric's army knife. Delicious, and just what I wanted. Satisfying and easy on the stomach.

I'm pretty pleased to report that the mosquito count hasn't increased at all during our stay. In fact most of my smaller ones are gone. Eric is about the same.

Note about pictures: we only know of 2 internet cafes in town, neither of which have CD drives (they mainly cater to young Thais playing games on the internet). This means that it may take a while to put up pictures, as we're no sure if our next stops have better internet access.

Day 10 - Markets and exhaustion

ericolofson — Wed, 26 Dec 2007 00:40:00 GMT

Carrie: It's hard to dress for the day. In the mornings it's downright chilly, but by midday we're in the mid eighties. So when Eric and I went to the local market where the hill tribes supposedly come into town to sell their wares I was in a fleece. Just thought I'd do some complaining for all of you winter goers back home.

Eric: Turns out the market's mostly people from town selling clothes, but we saw some interesting stuff (no more details until Christmas presents have been received!). We then spent a lot of time looking for an internet cafe, and a longer time trying to find one that burns CDs (we've been putting our pictures on CDs so we can delete pictures from our memory card).

Carrie: Each place we'd stop at would point us further down the road, until we ended up at a cable/computer store. Not what we were looking for.

That took a long time, and we eventually ended at a guesthouse/restaurant that also rents motor scooters. Between the owner and one of the guests, they burned Eric's CD for us. And when the guy who loaned Eric his computer heard we'd walked all the way to the caves the day before, he gave us a lot of ribbing, and talked us into renting one of the motos.

The moto we were using was a lot different from the dirt-bikes Eric rode in the States when he was a kid. His had had a clutch and shifter that you pushed up with your foot, and this one you had to kick down, and then it didn't catch very well anyway. So there was a whole lot of jerking and thrusting and kicking going on because he thought he was upshifting when he was downshifting. To his credit he got the knack of it pretty quickly considering, but I'm low on balance anyway, and would freeze up everytime he kicked, or else let go of him completely (protect the face!), so I was making thing a whole lot worse. Plus I liked to look around the side that Eric needed to see behind checking for traffic. I'm better in cars.

We were exhausted so we rented a scooter to get back to the guesthouse. Also, we brought some small toys with us to Thailand (bouncy balls) to give to kids, but we didn't have them with when we saw the kids yesterday and figured we'd drive back to pass them out.

Eric: At this point, it would be appropriate to mention a Taoist concept, wu-wei, which roughly translates into "non-action." Many of you will have heard me mention the term, as it relates to a large tattoo that I want, but that's another story. The idea is that you should live life more-or-less by going with the flow. This isn't a fancy way of justifying loafing or being lazy. Rather, it means that you shouldn't force things that clearly aren't meant to be. It is better to tweak the circumstances to your favor than to control the entire situation. I like the concept because it goes against my personality, but is a way of living that I find attractive and try to emulate as much as possible. I might not always be good at it, but I try.

At this point in the story, we have about an hour until we are supposed to be at Ek's for dinner. Because we had walked to the village yesterday, we weren't quite sure how long it would take to get there, but we estimated it would take 15 minutes each way. Carrie isn't feeling well, and she is hot, tired, and in need of a nap. The heat here really wears you out.

Driving out to this village, passing out toys, and getting back in time for dinner is the opposite of wu-wei. Wu-wei would have been to pass them out the first time, when kids were running up to us. Now, we're running out to them in hopes that they run out to us, running through the motions in a short period of time so we can run back to Ek's. We debate what we should do, as this is the opportunity for gift-giving that we've been waiting for, and now we only have 40 minutes until dinner.

Carrie wants to go, physical misery notwithstanding, primarily because this trip was one of the main reasons we rented the damn moto to begin with and she didn't want to waste the money spent to rent it. I didn't want this to ruin Carrie's day, which it was already starting to do, and suggested we didn't go. It became increasingly clear to me that Carrie was miserable anyway, and the only thing that would be worse for her would be to be miserable and waste money. We went.

On our way driving out there (which went more quicker than anticipated), Carrie got sick to her stomach and ended up losing her lunch. (Carrie: And several other meals as well. Who knew I had that much food in me?) We apparantly arrived at the time when the entire town eats dinner, so we didn't see a lot of kids at first. After Carrie had given out a few bouncy balls, however, word got around and we probably handed out 15-20 of them. The kids really seemed to enjoy them.

Carrie continued to lose all scraps from her lunch. On the way back, we stopped several times so that Carrie could make sure that, no, she had no more lunch. I eventually left her, miserable, on the side of the road while I went to Ek's to tell him I'd be a little late and Carrie wouldn't be joining us. I had anticipated a large feast to be set out in the front, but the place was empty. When I went to the door, a child handed me a note in Ek's hand saying "I sorry. I go to Chiang Mai." Under normal circumstances, I'd be sad, but skipping dinner with Ek was the most wu-wei thing that happened that day.

I went back to pick up Carrie, who made it through the rest of the ride home fine. Then, it was back to the guesthouse for a much-needed calm evening.

Day 9 - Caves and our new Thai friend

ericolofson — Wed, 26 Dec 2007 00:04:00 GMT

We just finished catching up the blog on days 1-8, so days 9 and 10 will be somewhat short (I've been writing for a long time now, and am tired and hungry...).

E: I have forgotten to mention it, but after not running for the first 6 days of the trip, I've started again. I've been going between 6:30-8, and I've found it's a great way to see parts of the town and countryside I wouldn't have seen anyway. This morning I was awakened by a thousand roosters and went out before 7:00am.

It was amazing. I was out on dirt country roads, passed more chickens than I can count, encountered a herd of water buffalo and spooked the little one (after which I apologized to the herder and took off back whence I came), and was greeted by every person I saw. The people in Chiang Dao are so happy and friendly it's hard to believe they aren't all conspiring about something, like how to sell me a time-share in a Chang Dao resort.

After a night of [freezing-cold] mountain air and a big breakfast, we were feeling refreshed and energized so we decided to walk to the caves and a temple on the mountain. All told, we probably walked 10-12 miles today. Anyway, both were nice, but details aren't really necessary.

Carrie: Well, I'll fill in the details. The walk went through the plains. Everything is very green now, but alas, no rice. This is their winter season and corn is knee high in the fields. There were opportunities for pictures at almost every bend. People in wide hats and long clothes were in everyfield. We passed water buffalo in people's yards, and were passed by at least twenty motorcycles going unsafe speeds.

The story goes that a hermit spent out his life in the Chiang Dao caves. They are quite extensive, but Eric and I opted for the short, self-led tour instead of the longer pricy one. You could feel the temperature drop as you went in, but the humidity stayed high.

In most of these temples the Buddah images are covered in small squares of gold leaf. As I understand it people will pay for as many squares as they can afford and as everyone adds a square of their own, the image eventurally is covered.

In the cave there was a reclining Buddah at floor level and (I want to say they were Italian) a small boy and his sister were able to get one of the squares to stick to their fingers which delighted them and horrified their mother. She looked over at us and shook her head toward them. People really are the same everywhere. So the mom made them stick it back on, and they placed two small bits where the eyes would go. Buddah then had these glowing gold eyes in the darkness. It was a neat moment to share.

On the hill outside this cave there, hidden in the foliage, were random statues and memorials. It was a bit startling to suddenly notice one that was quite close to you. There was also a small market where the villagers sell vegetables back and forth among each other. We saw the coolest stand. Stacked in rows were small baskets of roots labeled with what they fixed. Such as "Indication: lucky" or "Indication: shines and fast growing hair" or "Indication: Cure indigestion and bunions."

Eric and I were trying to mime with the shop owner to see if the were meant to be planted or eaten or made into tea to get the effects. The old lady thought it was pretty funny that one might plant the roots. And Eric and I tried to get her to recommend one for us. Comical.

On our way back, two events were noteworthy:

There is a small town between the caves and our guesthouse. While walking through, every single child ran out into the street to greet us. Almost all knew "hello," and almost none knew more English than that (except one who said "hellowhatsyourname," but didn't seem to understand our replies of "Carrie" and "Eric," despite our best attempts to sign what we meant).

Although the adults weren't running out into the street to greet us, every one with whom we made eye contact was quick with a hello or "sawat-dee khrap" for male speakers or "sawat-dee kaa" for female speakers (Thai is odd in that they modify their pronouns based on the gender of the speaker and not the referent). But the more significant experience was reserved until we were about 100 yards away from the guesthouse:

As we were rounding the corner to the guesthouse, we heard a loud "hello," followed by a man holding a glass aloft and yelling "come, come." Earlier in the day, we had an opportunity to strike up a conversation with a gregarious Thai man and didn't, and we were feeling like we missed an opportunity. So when this man called from his front porch/driveway, we jumped on the opportunity.

As we walked up, Ek (Pronounced like a combination of egg and ek. Christopher told us later that Thais commonly use nicknames, and that Ek means one or first, denoting that Ek is the first born of his family, not his formal name.) pulled up two chairs and we sat at the table. Before we even introduced ourselves, he had called for each of us to be brought a bowl of tom yam soup, and I had a glass of whisky-tonic and Carrie had a Pepsi. Our glasses never got below half-full.

After a lot of conversation about where we had been, where we were going, and what we thought of Chiang Dao, Ek introduced his friends and family sitting around the table. Ek is an engineer for Thailand's equivalent of the department of transportation, working on roads. The 4 other men sitting at the table are higher-ups in the army (and we got the impression that they were very high up). He strikes us as the happiest person alive. While we were there, he took us around to the back of his house where he keeps bees. We asked if he sells the honey, or eats it himself. He just shrugged and said that they make him happy, so he keeps them.

At several points in the conversation, he looked us straight in the eyes and said "you are my friends" while holding his hand over his heart. Both Carrie and I agreed that the only time we've heard words of affection that sincere are when our families have told us that they loved us (and, of course, when we've said the same :) ). In fact, when we left, Ek's wife whose name I can't pronounce told Carrie that she loved her! Ek told us that whenever we are in Thailand, we should stay at his house. He didn't offer it for money, but, as he said, "from here" while he patted his chest over his heart.

Also, before we left, they gave Carrie and I pendants containing Buddha carvings to wear around our necks, and a wrapped Christmas present! We're waiting for Christmas morning to open it, so we'll have a Christmas after all.

It is good, very good, knowing that people like Ek exist in this world.

Day 8 - Travel to Chiang Dao

ericolofson — Tue, 25 Dec 2007 23:34:00 GMT

Today was uneventful. In the morning we ate a quick breakfast and then headed out to an internet cafe to burn our pictures onto a CD. We also headed to Warorot Market, perhaps Chiang Mai's main market. This wasn't a tourist market, so it was mostly food and essentials for daily living. Think of a 3-tiered Giant Wal-Mart that takes up about 1.5 city blocks and around which vendors sell stuff on the sidewalks. The only difference is that it smells a bit more and you can buy entire pig heads. I have pictures.

Carrie: One neat thing, as we were leaving there were two girls who were at the front desk trying to get a room. Gap's was full, but we were checking out, so we showed them our bungalow and told them how great the cooking class was, good places to eat/check out. The one girls were just as enthusiatic about supporting a women's prison reform system and elephant conservation, and to hardly anyone surprise the one girl was from Portland. Ah Oregon!

Anyway it was just very cool to be able to pass our accumulated knowledge on and help out some fellow travelers in the same manner that we've been helped so many times this trip already.

After a lot of walking, we went to the bus station and caught an afternoon bus to Chiang Dao. The trip was 90 minutes and pretty comfortable. Chiang Dao is a small (I dunno, 6,000 people?), very non-tourist town whose primary interest to travelers is a base from which to explore some nearby caves. Chiang Dao is just one stop on a bus that kept going, and we were the only ones to get off there. We were let off on their equivalent of Main Street, and because no one else got off, we just had to wing it to figure out what to do. We had already made reservations at our guesthouse, but all guesthouses in Chiang Dao are closer to the caves than the town, and that means that we were at least a mile or two away from the guesthouse.

Our guidebook said that catching a taxi would be easy, but it wasn't. Think of the last time you were in a town of 6,000; how many taxis did you see cruising the streets? Yep, not many. Granted, Thailand generally has more than the states, but I've since learned that the "taxis" here run a few set routes a day and you need to call them to pick you up if you need to go somewhere off the route.

I needed a haircut anyway, so we walked with the idea that we would either hit a taxi or a barber before too long. The barber was first up, and I felt much better with a shorn head. But, we were still wandering and hoping a taxi would pass by.

Before too long, a kind shop-owner spied the confused Americans and offered help. Luckily, he understood "Chiang Dao Rainbow," the name of our guesthouse. Then he talked on his cell for a minute, motioned for us to stay put, hopped on his motor scooter, and took off. He returned 5 minutes later, and again motioned for us to stay put. Sure enough, a taxi soon followed.

The taxi quoted us a price that was much higher than we expected (150 baht), considering we paid 200 for a 20 km journey from Chiang Mai to Doi Suthep just a couple of days ago. We started negotiating the price (which is standard operating procedure for the pick-up truck taxis we encountered in Chiang Mai), and immediately sensed something was wrong. Apparently, negotiating in Chiang Dao is a little more touchy than in the big cities. We ended up paying 140, but the look on the face of the man who helped us suggested we crossed some boundary of decorum. I felt bad.

That night, at the guesthouse, we splurged on a nice, 4-course Thai dinner. At dinner, we had the sudden realization that although Chiang Dao is only a 90-minute, very slow bus ride north of Chiang Mai, it has a very different climate. Rather than nighttime temperatures of low 70s that we had in Chiang Mai, it gets down into the low 50s at night. Here's the kicker: our bungalow is a "traditional" Thai-style teak house. And in case you didn't know, "traditional" means "sans-heat." We asked for an extra comforter, and needed it. I slept with a bandana on my head to keep warm.

Carrie: Mong kun, the co-owner of our guesthouse is taking some trekkers up the mountain. I think they camp out for part of it. You wouldn't get me sleeping outside in this cold. It's hard enough getting out from under the covers in the morning.

Eric: On the plus side, the scenery is maginifcent. Internet access in Chiang Dao isn't as convenient as in Chiang Mai, so we might not be able to post pictures immediately, but when we do I'm sure you will be stunned.

Carrie: Here's what our little bungalow is like. The whole thing is up on thick wood beams, with a small porch out front. The room is decorated with finely stitched wall hangings in the Hill tribe style, as well as a hill tribe traditional X stitch quilt. The four poster bed looks charming and rustic with the gauzy mosquito net. (Although Eric will gleefully tell you that he has not seen any blood suckers since coming further north.) There are two wicker lounging chairs and a small table, now completely covered in travel sized bottles, papers, vitamins, mini locks, bug spray, etc. Open to all sides, except our bathroom (yes, regular plumbing.) are wooden shutters which open fully to the stunning views, Doi Chiang Dao rising up out of flat rice fields. This is a place for relaxation.

There is a very interesting mix here of traditional and modern. You can hear the chatter of chickens along with the high decibal boom of someone's speakers. The song might be a wailing, sing-song Thai voice, but then in will come electrical guitar for the melody. There will be a prune skinned old man in loose flapping clothes looking as though he's just stepped from the cover of National Geographic with his toothless smile, And then his cell phone will ring. The juxtaposition is startling.

Day 7 - Elephants and Temples

ericolofson — Sat, 22 Dec 2007 22:24:00 GMT

Last night was the first really good night of sleep that we've had all trip. We slept until about 7 and woke up feeling refreshed for the day, which is good, because today was long.

Rather than exploring the sights on our own, which is what we've been doing all trip, we hired a guide to take us to the Elephant Conservation Center, an elephant hospital, and a couple of temples that were outside of Chiang Mai. Joe (not the same Joe from the cooking class) picked us up from Gap's House at 8:25. It was supposed to be 8:15, but we were running late again, so he had to wait for the pokey Americans. For 1500 baht ($50) apeice, Joe drove us around from 8:30-6:00, told us about the sites, bought us lunch, and gave us valuable advice about Chiang Mai and the surrounding area.

Carrie: Joe's English was awesome. Besides serving as our wheels, he was our private tutor on Thai life, so we got our every question answered. What's going on with all the election signs? Does the king have any kids? Do people love the monarchy, or just this king specifically? etc.

And Joe showed off what he knew of American culture, mainly what he's learned from TV and the movies. He wants to go to Texas someday, and went through a "cowboy" phase in high school. He still listens to "cowboy music" (country) and is a huge fan of WWF. That part got Eric and I howling.

Eric says, "you know that's not real, right?" And Joe did not know that, despite all the convincing we tried, but he kind of pushed it off as his friends all say its real. Bleeding and bruises, and all. Eric gave him the background on how it all came out a long time ago in the US as being fake, and how some wrestlers have gone into acting. Joe would not be persuaded. Eric and I kept meaning to pantimime out a slugfest just to demostrate how the pros do it, but forgot all about it by the time we got to the temple. Maybe it's better that way. It was a little like telling Joe there is no Santa Clause.

Eric: The trip started with Joe buying cigarettes in some alley in a non-tourist part of Chiang Mai (you can tell because the shop signs are only written in Thai). After another brief stop where Joe bought us "coffee" made from instant crystals, we arrived at the Elephant Conservation Center (ECC).

Although Thais revere elephants, the country has a real problem in how they treat them. They often live in poor conditions and are overworked, in previous years from logging but now mainly for tourist elephant rides and shows. The ECC, which got its original funding by a personal initiative of the Queen, takes in these animals, provides medical care, and a home for the ones that can't be rehabilitated.

We arrived just in time for the main show to start. It was neat, with the elephants performing various tricks (e.g., retrieving a hat from the ground and placing it on the owner's head, and then bowing on cue, painting, and playing the marimbas (up the scale, down the scale)) and displaying their considerable log-moving skills.

Carrie: When the show was over the audience could feed the elephants bananas and sugar cane, 20 baht a bunch. Boy could those critters fork it in. Eric was going to take some picture of me feeding them, not to mention feed them too, but I handed out the bundle like it was on fire. Well, I felt so bad for them, poor historically overworked elephants. I wish they didn't have to do a show at all. No worries though, we did get plenty of pictures later.

They also have a paper production site where they use, yes, elephant dung. There is a lot of washing and bleaching involved, but it seems like a better thing to do with it than start a dung collection. We got a small book and some cards, all procedes go back to the ECC.

Eric: Afterwards, our guide took us to see the baby elephants, and Carrie and I got to hand-feed them. The little ones are adorable; one was 9-months-old, and we had to put the food directly in its mouth rather than letting it grab the food with its trunk.

A brief stopover at the medical clinic, where they mostly treat illness and minor physical injuries, was next. We didn't stay long, as the animals were somewhat far away and they didn't have much information in English.

Our next stop was at the world's first elephant hospital, run by the Friends of the Asian Elephant (FAE). We were crying within 15 minutes. The first elephant we saw was a young (3-year-old?) female whose foot was blown off by a landmine, and who then had to walk 20 kilometers to the hospital with a bloody stump. It's been nearly a year, I think, since she arrived, and she is healing quite nicely. I guess she is ready for an artificial limb that will enable her to walk on that leg again, but the FAE still needs to raise more money to fit her with one. Each of the 10-or-so elephants at the FAE has a similar story. We donated some money and were sad that we couldn't give more.

Our elephant tour finished with a visit to the elephant cemetary, a place we never would have found without a personal guide (the tourist buses never go here). In between a couple of mountain foothills, the cemetary lies on a small field littered with large mounds of earth out of which sprout trees and bamboo. In Thailand, elephants are buried with all of the same funeral ceremonies, presided over by Buddhist monks, as are humans. The plants growing out of the graves are to provide the elephants with food on their way to their next lives.

After this entire experience, both Carrie and I find ourselves more drawn to the animals. They have a depth in their eyes, and there is something about them that seems wise. Both Carrie and I felt that in a lot of ways, they seemed more human than even chimps. Another outcome of this experience: we think we have found the place where we'll send some of our charitible giving once we have enough income to do much. The FAE runs entirely on donations, including 25% of its budget from the Bridget Bardot foundation. Carrie and I were both moved by seeing these animals, 100% of whom are in need of medical attention because of human maleficience. After this, we were so glad that we opted to feed and learn about elephants, rather than doing the standard tourist elephant riding.

We next went to two temples. One was incredibly old, built in the 15th century, and the other was a beautiful modern temple. We had a good time, and were pleasantly surprised by the friendliness of strangers, but after our emotional morning with the elephants, it almost felt like we were going through the motions. On the bright side, however, I got some wonderful pictures.

I have some great news to report: I have tried insects! Whoo hoo! On the way to the temples, Joe took us by an authentic Thai market. I had asked him before if he liked insects, and he said a little. So when we were at the market, he grabbed a bug that looked a bit like a fat larva with wings (like a moth with the wings of a beetle), and gave it to me. Because I had wanted to try bugs and also because Joe just handed it to me in the course of normal conversation, I ate it without much of a pause or second thought. The whole experience was so matter-of-fact that it honestly felt a bit anticlimatic. I was expecting pictures, and maybe video, of the moment of truth, but Carrie wasn't even watching (not her fault, I just didn't want to make a scene).

The bug was...just kinda squishy and not very flavorful. Joe then grabbed a long, thin worm that grows in bamboo shoots and is eaten like potato chips, but it was just like a flavorless pork rind. I didn't end up buying any, but I'm glad I tried them.

Well, off to eat some 90 cent Thai food that's better than anything available in the USA. Ah, culinary heaven.

Day 6 - Massage and Safari

ericolofson — Fri, 21 Dec 2007 23:57:00 GMT

E: The day started with my first "tall American" moment. Honestly, I didn't expect to have any of these, as I'm a little short, if anything. But as I was walking through the kitchen doorway at our guesthouse, I racked my head on the 5'3" door frame. I spent breakfast holding a towel with ice on my forehead and absorbing the laughter of the Thai employees and guests alike.

In the morning, Tanya 16, Carrie, and I searched out more temples. Carrie: Tonya's a lot of fun to do things with because her perspective is just a little askew of our own and her reactions nearly always catch me off guard. She and the other Tanya do this thing where they blow from the lips, sometimes with a shrug. It means annoyance or indifference, or that they aren't going to bother finishing the sentance. "We were going to go but, phhhu." I thought it was a German thing until I saw a French girl say it. Anyway, I've started doing it now.

I was going to say that I like hanging around with the Tonyas because they are a bit like Eric, jumping to action, and I think it will do him good to have some action packed companions ready to grap the naga by the tail.

Eric: At the 600-year-old Wat Chedi Luang, monk novices sit at tables at the entrance and talk to visitors. We convinced one of them to take us around and explain some of the stuff. His English was pretty good, and we got some questions answered about the purposes of some of the buildings. They have two interesting buildings at this complex that house was statues of famous monks in mediation, with some relics of monks from that monastery. However, the language barrier did prevent us from getting all of our questions answered.

That has been a source of frustration for Carrie and I throughout the trip: we go to these magnificent cites, but we don't speak Thai so we don't really get to learn much about what we're seeing.

After this temple, we went to Wat Phra Singh. It was beautiful, but by now, beautiful is almost ho-hum. We want to learn. On the site there is a school for both young novice monks and young boys. The highlight for both Carrie and I was seeing these little monks running around, acting just like their non-monk peers and playing and watching soccer.

Also, some guy from Phuket struck up a conversation with us as we were watching the boys, and we felt this sense of both relief and gladness. It wasn't until then that we realized how much we were craving conversation with Thais who weren't trying to sell us anything. He is the one who told us about the school and that although Thai Buddhist males are required to enter the monastic life once in their lives, many families send their boys to the monkhood because of the free education.

After templing, we headed to the women's prison, which has a massage business. Women in the last 6-months-or-so of their sentence get to learn Thai massage and work in the on-site spa. The money they earn giving massages gets put away until they are released, at which point they get it. That way they have a trade when they are released from prison so they can get a running start.

Anyway, when we got there, we learned that they were booked for the day. On our way out the door, the prison guard receptionist motioned to some flyers in English about another spa and suggested we go there. We agreed, and then this older guard in full uniform said something like "I drive," motioned for us to follow him, and headed out the door. While we were apprehensive about getting in the car with a stranger, headed to a destination unknown, we were also hesitant to disobey a guy with a badge and a gun. We got in.

It turns out that we were headed to the Lila Massage Clinic, where the recently-released inmates work. Carrie and I got the 1-hour, full-body massages for 150 baht apiece. We even got free tea and internet while we waited. It was divine.

Carrie: Well I guess it was divine. But also much like a sports massage. I get a bit squeamy about my calfs. And it still seems very strange to pay someone money, so I can lay there all relaxed. Shouldn't I at least know her name? They also do this part where they kneel on the back of your thighs and pull your arms up and back until all your vertebra line up. But we did come out smelling minty. Yum.

Eric: We ended the night by going to the Night Safari, where you drive through areas where animals (except for predators) are kept and allowed to mingle. Several times, we had to wait for zebras or warthogs to clear out of the road before proceeding. They also had a laser light/water show that was very well-done.

The announcers on the English buses had the thickest accents we've ever heard, and their announcing came in the form of three types of sentences: informing us that "more animals are waiting for you," whenever we left an area, as if every animal was on tenterhooks until, at last, Eric and Carrie would complete their lives by looking at them; extolling the beauty of every animal; or pointing out the painfully obvious (e.g., "the tiger has beautiful blue eye and pink nose"), and nothing else about the animal.

While the announcing was more comical than informative, it was still fun to see the animals at night, because many are naturally active at this time it makes for better gawking than going to the zoo where all-to-often the animals are sleeping.

Getting home was bad. The taxi refused to use the meter and quoted us an inflated price. Carrie: This was more complicated by the kind tour driver that was going to give both of us a ride back for a fraction of the cost. But because the taxi had driven out specifically for US, it seemed bad to just ditch her. Thais have a strong aversion to conflict, and don't fight among themselves. It is avoided at all costs, and so what ended up happening is more and more people were called over to "help."

The ticket girl spoke the best English. (Much better in fact than the zoo tour guides, "Iz lion. About his face iz hair. The lady lion, she have no hair.") And she was trying to repeat back and forth what the taxi driver and we already knew. We wanted the meter, she wanted 250 baht. We had another option, and she had already driven out. So then the big manager was brought out and the whole story relayed to him. With nothing resolved.

Finally we took the taxi because we didn't want to be jerk Americans. And the ticket girl and the big boss and the taxi driver and Eric and I stood there bowing and smiling to each other and looking much relieved. Much ado about nothing. It actually ended better than it sounds, but we will be careful to avoid getting in that situation again.

Day 5 - Doi Suthep

ericolofson — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 23:43:00 GMT

E: In the morning, Carrie, the Tanjas, and I hired a taxi (read: pick-up truck) to take us to the temple on the top of Doi Suthep, a small mountain outside of Chiang Mai. Haggling for a fair price was an interesting and frustrating experience, in large part because none of us is confident we got a fair price.

The road up the mountain rivals any Washington state road for windiness. I was pretty queasy when we reached the top; I am prone to car-sickness anyway, and being stuck in the back of a pick-up with a canopy and windows that were really low meant that I wasn't able to look out the window to help keep my stomach settled. Once we stumbled out of the truck, we headed up to the entrance.

On either side of the stairs that lead to the entrance to every Thai temple are two naga (dragons--see the blog posting with the monk chat). The naga are always facing away from the temple with teeth bared, and their snake-like bodies run the length of the stairs. The stairwell up to the temple was huge, with several hundred steps and enormous naga at the base. We saw a couple of hill-tribe children playing at the base of the steps under the naga, which was a great visual metaphor that we aren't in Kansas anymore. I'll post pictures when I can.

Once you get up to the temple, there are several rituals that people do, including walking around the main stupa (a large structure containing a Buddha relic) while holding flowers and praying, ringing various bells that surround the stupa, and lighting candles and incense in various locations around the complex.

Most temples have statues for the birthday Buddhas (there is a certain Buddah image for Monday, another for Tuesday, two for Wednesday, etc.). These days tell of your character, much like the Zodiac.

Carrie: In the US there is a children's poem with that same kind of effect. Monday's child is full of grace. Tuesday's child is fair of face. Wednesday's child is full of woe. Thursday's child has far to go. Friday's child works hard for a living. Saturday's child keeps on giving. Sunday's child... My mother will have to help me out. Something to the effect that Sunday's child is most blessed of all.

Eric: One thing unique to this temple was a large bin of candle oil and raised candle platforms in front of each Buddha, and people pour three scoopfuls of oil in front of their birthday Buddha. Oh, and in front of everything that looks even moderately interesting, there is a donation box. As far as we can tell, all of the rituals and donations are for some purmutation of good luck and longevity.

Carrie: In Thai culture the weekday you were born is very important, and reveals something about your character. I'm a Monday, which is the standing Buddah with one up raised hand, like in a blessing. The story is that Buddah came to some village where sickness and evil spirits had taken over and the religious folk had done everything they usually try to no avail, but Buddah walked the streets and cured everything, sending the spirits away. So Monday is the curing of evil Buddah.

Eric had thought himself a Friday's child and was pretty pleased to find that that was the teaching Buddah -until a woman with a year date book looked him up to be a Monday as well!

Eric: Also while there, I received a blessing from a monk for, I believe, good luck and longevity. People kneel around a monk who is constantly chanting and sprinking people with water. The men (because monks can't have physical contact with women) reach out their hands, which the monk takes and wraps a white string around it three times and ties it. He tosses the length of string to women.

Carrie: On the path outside the temple vendors were selling all sorts of fruit. Tanja 15 got farang, which is unripe guava that is sweet and so crisp it's nearly hard. Tanja 16 got a young jack fruit, almost berry flavored, but veggie firm. (Old jack fruit, which we haven't tried, is eaten like a vegetable.) We tried the roasted bananas and everyone traded so we could taste each other's.

Before we left I wanted to get a bell from the market. I was set on getting one with a Naga, but all of them had elephants. All the sellers were trying to bring me to their stands in search of the Dragon. I caused quite a chaos, but unfortunately, no bell for me.

E: We later went to a park and waterfall, but wasn't the one we had wanted to go to because of the language barrier. Oh well. On the way up to the falls, we passed stalls selling bugs of all sorts, which I'd always said I'd try. Well, I was feeling a bit queasy from the rickety ride down the mountain, and I passed. I feel like I wussed out.

Carrie: The original plan was to go swimming in the falls, which is a common activity. But the water looked so scuzzy, so we passed on the swimming. Eric still got to show off his mad mountain goat skills leaping across one stretch of the water for a great picture. Meanwhile we girls struggled in sandals. (OK, so I struggled in grippy tennis shoes. So much for Monday's grace.)

After the temple and waterfall in the blazing heat, we returned to Chiang Mai and ate at a great place known for their khaow soi noodles, (a northern Thai specialty). I'm quite partial to mango sticky rice, and that was toothsome as well. Sitting at our elbows was a retired New Mexican couple. They said we were just about the first Americans they encountered in their 3-months in Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Thailand. Germans, English, and Aussies, mostly.

I was a bit surprised, but maybe shouldn't have been. The American tourists most often head to the southern beaches to drink and perpetuate our poor reputation in the world. We had a delightful time talking to them, and they suggested we go to Pai, a smaller town. It's a much slower pace of life. (Not to mention cheeper.) It's hard to tell if that will keep Eric content, but it's the rural life that I'm most curious about. Further up and Further in!

One more story, as we were all sitting around sipping tea, Tonya 16 told this great story that happened during the time she worked in the German town at Disney world (Epcot). The Americans would ask her pretty ignorant questions, like "do they have electricity in Germany?" And she'd answer, "no, we built the Porshe in the dark." Ha!

Update on the mosquito count. Now I'm up to 11, all on my legs. Oh, and one more on my wrist. 12. Eric says he's got 10. That's it for tonight.

Day 4 - Cooking Class & Monk Chat

ericolofson — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 21:59:00 GMT

Eric: Our body clocks still haven't adjusted to Thailand time, so we woke up really early (around 6:00am). After putzing around long enough for some shops to open, we headed out in search of breakfast and decent coffee. We ended up going to Smile Coffee.

The food and coffee were OK, but I really liked the proprietor. He was a young guy, maybe early 20s, with long hair in a pony-tail. What I liked about him was how earnest he was and how much he really cared about his little 4-table restaurant. He had one small food prep area where he made the espresso drinks and cooked the food, which he did on two portable gas ranges. After putting the food on the counter, he would literally run around to the other side to carry the food 5 feet to our table. I went back to him the next day, not for the coffee, but because I felt good giving him my money.

Carrie: Here's a matter of practicality that was part of Eric's morning, that he had left out. We packed things very carefully, not more than two t-shirts or shorts etc. And in this hot weather clothes laundry day comes pretty quickly. We brought this little tube of travel detergent, but for much cheaper (and yeah, less effort) you can have your clothes washed. 30 Baht per kilo, however much that may be.

Eric is very on top of things especially in the mornings. And he swept up all the dirty clothes and whisked them away while I pretty much sat on the bed and did a sudoku, advising him on what of mine was dirty. Well when it was time for me to get dressed, what's this?! No underwear. He had taken it ALL to be washed. So I spent all day au natural.

Eric: Afterwards, I went to an internet cafe to research cooking schools, and we found a place--Gap's Cookery School--that was highly recommended and also is experienced at teaching vegetarian meals. They picked us up from the hotel at 8:40 (they had told me 8:55, so I had just turned off the shower water when they arrived...we've never packed more quickly!). The class started with a tour of a local Thai market by a really funny 20-something Thai named Yaa.

The Thai market was so different from the ones more directed at tourists that we had been walking through. I was surprised at how few things I recognized. We saw lots of interesting and crazy stuff, like live and roasted frogs, live eels and catfish, people processing raw coconut to make coconut milk and cream, fried larvae that live in bamboo shoots, and at least 5 different kinds of eggplant (Long, bitter, crispy, crunchy etc.) Thais eat most of their eggplant when it's still green and bitter...an acquired taste, I guess, because none of the westerners who took the class really liked it.

After the trip to the market we went to the school, which was an outdoor canopy covering a dozen or so individual gas stoves, surrounded by vegetation so thick that the hot Chiang Mai sun was completely blocked out. Including Carrie and I, there were 7 students: Jan, a Kucinich-backer from San Francisco; Charlotte and Dan, a couple from England; "Tanja 15," a German who was staying in room 15 at the Gap House guesthouse; and "Tanja 16," a German staying in room 16. The teacher, Joe, was one of the quirkiest, funny guys I have ever met.

Carrie: In nearly every sentence he'd use someone's name. "Perhaps Carrie not like salty, she put in only 1 fish sauce. Tanja 16, she like spicy, she put more chili. 'E-lic' he can not have peanuts. No peanuts for E-lic," all the while using a bamboo stick to tap our cookbooks and scold people who were on the wrong page. It took me a few hearing to figure out that Elic was Eric.

Eric: Here's another example: at one point, I blew an ant off the edge of a bowl that had our to-be-cooked food. He used his stick to shoo me away from the bowl and said "we're not vegetarian; we eat the ant!" Then he gave a weird happy-maniacal cackling laugh.

We got to cook and eat all of the dishes he taught, which was great. I also appreciated the cooking tips, like when to use medium-low heat (most of the time, to my surprise!) and when to use high (rarely, only when bringing liquid to a boil). We made green chicken curry (including from-scratch curry sauce!), Thai fish souffle, spring rolls, chicken and cashew nuts in a light red curry sauce, squash/coconut custard, cucumber sauce, fish cakes, and pad Thai.

What we couldn't eat for lunch, which was a lot, we brought back to the guesthouse for supper. The only problem is that we left feeling like we were very capable chefs, when in reality 5 people were constantly working with military-precision to prepare the ingredients, so it was all deceptively easy. They also, would catch you before you could make a mistake. "Turn down the heat!" We also learned how to carve lotus flowers out of onions and turn tomato skins into roses. Carrie's were beautiful. Mine looked like they were carved by a meat cleaver.

During our class three dogs would wander in and out of our area. It was so quiet and peaceful, it was easy to forget you're right in the city.

While we were at class we were also keeping our fingers crossed that a room would open at Gap's House. We were temporarily homeless until we managed to snatch up our beauteous bungalow. The rooms have wood walls and are filled with antique furniture. The only downsides are the considerable number of mosquitoes and the thin walls. But we're staying her 2 nights longer than we had originally planned, which tells you our opinion of the place.

Carrie: One more thing, though we adore the bungalow, the mosquitoes are driving Eric crazy. Before we went to sleep he jumped around the room with two bedroom slippers slapping them together in hopes of bringing down the insect population. The next night we discovered the mosquito net in a bottom drawer. Such joy!

I've been keeping a tally of my bite count. Right now Eric and I are tied at 5 each. That's a reasonable amount. Except Eric has four of them in a centimeter radius on his ankle. Mine don't even itch.

Eric: After returning to Gap's House at around 4, the Tanjas, Carrie, and I headed to Wat Suan Dok to chat with monks. (Our class got along really well, and while talking we found out the Tanjas were planning to do a monk chat, too.) Every Mon, Wed, and Fri from 5-7 pm, monks hang out in a room and talk to tourists. It gives them a chance to practice their English and us a chance to learn about Buddhism. It's a win-win.

So all four of us piled into a Red bus -like the back of a covered pickup and about as comfortable- and head over to the wat. We mostly talked to Novice Thong, a 22-year-old from Laos. Here are some highlights:

*Average day in the life of a monk -- Monks wake at around 4AM and spend the first few hours chanting (like group prayer) and meditating. From 6-7, they collect alms. From what I have seen on my morning strolls/run, this entails walking up to a food cart and standing there until the people offer food. In Buddhism, people earn merit though good deeds, and this merit ensures that in your next life, you will be born further along on your path to enlightenment. This leads to an interesting component of alms-giving: the monks never "beg," rather, as part of the ritual in which food is given the lay-people thank the monks for the opportunity to do a good deed. At 7, monks return to the temple for morning classes. At 11, they eat the food received during the morning. (There is also a breakfast somewhere in here that I missed). They have to finish eating by 12, and then their afternoon is filled with more classes, meditation, and chanting. Young novices (people under 20-years-old and who live according to 10 principles) have to go to both class sessions, whereas some older novices only go to 1. I'm not sure if monks (who are over 20 and live according to 227 principles) go to classes.

*The story of the Naga -- According to legend, a sea-serpent/dragon wanted to become a monk and took a human form, but was found out and expelled from the temple by the Buddha because the monastic life is reserved for humans. As a consolation, the Buddha let the Naga leave his symbol and name to adorn temples as a lesson to future generations. I didn't exactly catch what the lesson was, but I think it's about the fact that the Naga wanted to be a monk so bad that he sacrificed his natural form, and humans should be willing to do the same. In any case, just this little bit of knowledge has made both Carrie and I drawn to dragon iconography in ways that we aren't drawn to other beautiful images that have no meaning to us.

*Thai "girlyboys" -- Thong was fascinated by girlyboys, who are transgendered/transvestite males. He wanted to hear if the US had them and how society treats them (girlyboys are allowed to be monks in Thailand). This was the last topic of conversation we expected to have with a monk, but it was a good reminder that the novices are not the equivalent of priests, so much as like students at a religious boarding school.

Anyway, this was the first day where, at the end, I had this great feeling that I learned something meaningful about Thai culture. This was exactly what I had hoped this trip would be.

Also it was nice to team up with some English speakers who were interested in seeing many of the same things we were.

Gallery: Chiang Mai

ericolofson — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 21:11:00 GMT

In and around Chiang Mai

Day 3 - Chiang Mai

ericolofson — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 21:00:00 GMT

The overnight train from Bangkok to Chiang Mai took about 14 hours, and was much more comfortable that we'd anticipated. The trains are pretty old, I'd guess from the 50's, and haven't really been updated since then.

Carrie: The aisles are narrow, and wobbling down them with huge packs on is quite a feat. On the ceiling loud, racketty fans push the hot air around. There are drawn curtains for each bunk. I got the top one, where I had the option of closing the drape to shut out the fluorescent light, but then I had to sacrifice the blessed, blessed fan.

Despite this, the sleeper train is a very nice way to travel. Stretched out, it reminded me a lot of laying out in sleeping bags with Larry in the back of the stationwagon on the way to Grandma's house. Having once read a story about a little girl getting off a train, not at her stop, but where they had stopped to clear the tracks of snow, I could only sleep in fits and spurts for fear of missing our stop and continuing on to who-knows-where. Eric popped in his earplugs and went promptly to bed. I woke so early, to the sound of a woman selling fried chicken for breakfast in the aisles. Then crawled down to Eric's bunk to look out the window.

As morning continued on, the beds folded into benches and the scenery became more fascinating as we stopped at little towns to drop or add passengers. The train is a lovely way to see the countryside, with the farmers in wide brimmed hats, long pants and sleeves, and scaves up covering their face and throat. And our first glimpse of water buffalos both white and brown, with huge eyes, sweet ears, and loose skin seeming to melt off. Everywhere there are banana trees, the stickerbushes of Thailand! And some plants I was surprised to recognize, morning glories. There is no sign of monkeys yet, but I hardly expect them to be dangling from every passing tree. People are friendly, in the small towns, people might wave at the train as we passed.

On Thai trains, people open the outside doors between cars to sit or smoke, so you could sit there and watch the world go by at very high speeds. They also toss garbage right out the window, not the passengers, but the crew! I'm frequently reminded of the regulations our government has cooked up, some -like littering- absolutely necessary, others -to prevent one from sitting open to the tracks as the slip below you -made only to spare the stupid from natural selection. And yet everyone seems to get by well enough without handrails and smooth pavement and food sanitition laws.

Eric: We arrived in Chiang Mai at about 1:00pm and went right for our guesthouse, the CM Blue House. It was a modern place, and I'd certainly recommend it, but it was definately more hotel style than guesthouse. They only had rooms with air-conditioning available for that night, we left to stay at Gap's house for rest of our Chiang Mai visit.

Carrie: The city is modern, and much less crowded than Bangkok. Like Bangkok there are highway style road, and the rest seem to be hardly more than alleys. In fact most of them are the sort that I wouldn't walk down in the US, except here, they are just the way roads come. It is also noticable cooler. We are much cheered by this.

The vendors are much less pushy, and streets easier to navigate. Ah, except that the road names are these long foreign words (what else can I expect) like Ratchamandamneon, not to be confused with Ratchamankha. Try reading those while driving past in the Tuk Tuk at night.

Around any corner you might walk into a flower market or fish market or food stands, not that these areas would be exclusively anything. You never know what you'll find. Right at the end of our guesthouse's alley is another wat. They're about as common as churches, but so much grander. And yet we must have walked past it two or three times while concentrating on our guide book or road signs.

Everybody has a dog, or three. In The big city the dogs didn't make eye contact; they would go about completely on their own agenda, with lives in parallel to humans, but seemingly void of interaction. In Chiang Mai the dogs hang out in from of someones gate or sidewalk shop. They eat scraps from the restaurants mostly. No Science Diet here.

There are few cats. And shorter clubbed tails seem to run in their genetics. And no Siamese anywhere. (I can't take credit for noticing this myself. Our Chiang Dao guide, Christopher pointed it out to us.)

Most of our first day in Chiang Mai was shopping at stalls and street venders, including the huge night bazaar. There are three or so levels to this shopping block. It's so extensive. There are wood carvings, and antiques and furniture and woven cloths. There are areas of just artists, doing amazing reproductions from pictures or (very patient) seated customers. I picked up teak bookmarks with imprinted elephants for my kids at school, what a good teacher I am. We're getting decent at haggling, but still have a long way to go.

We mostly purchased gifts, so the details will have to wait until after we return to the US. There is a good story we could insert here about bidding one vender against her neighbor for our business, but we hate to give away our Christmas surprises.

To be fair, there is also a good failure story, where we found out we were grossly overcharged, but had walked away happy. (Grossly overcharged is such a relative term, as anything we purchase would have cost many times more in the US. People here certainly have less than we do, (or will have the potential to have in up coming years) so can we really begrudge them what would only be a few dollars?)

The market did have a courtyard where some Thais were performing a very traditional type of dance. Very neat to watch. I'm certain Eric got some good pictures.

Most of our trip so far has been shopping, and we're both sick of it. Even though I knew that our adventures wouldn't start the second we stepped off the place, I must admit that I'm disappointed that our trip has been so limited. Fortunately, the next couple of days prove to make up for the tedium of shopping.