a curious trunk explores for bananas

Some kids go to summer camp.  Some go to Spanish, Bible or Hebrew camp.  This kid went to elephant camp.  

I spent the majority of two days last week at Thom’s Pai Elephant Camp riding and playing with elephants.  Although the big guys (or gals in this case) were cool, I’m afraid I can only give elephant camp a 5 out of 10.  

Along with six other people, I kicked off the first morning feeding bananas to a group of four elephants, all girls.  The elephants go absolutely nuts for bananas and to get them, they performed many tricks, some orchestrated, some not.  One elephant would play the harmonica.  Another would stick out her tongue.  Anything for a banana.  I was trying to solicit a hug from one (just hold the banana behind your back and she’ll wrap her trunk around you in an elephant version of a bear hug) when her neighbor decided to get in on the action.  In a matter of seconds I had trunks swirling all around me, tickling and playing tug of war with me trying to get at the bananas.  Unlike the Balinese monkeys and despite the size difference, however, it was all in good fun.  I sustained no bites or stomped toes.

Then we climbed aboard and went for a two hour elephant ride.  To get on their back, some of the elephants permit you to stand on their trunk and they hoist you up over their heads.  Others extend a leg as your route to their back.  My elephant, Ot (which ironically means “Little Frog” preferred the former.  Ot earned her bananas that day giving 3 of us a lift for the tour.  Except for a blanket, we basically rode bareback.  

Ot gives me a quick lift to my room ... and a photo opp

Some things surprised me about the elephants. Their trunks, which they use playfully as well as to snatch food, are not soft as I’d thought they would be.  In fact, there’s nothing soft about an elephant (except for their tongues).  They are rough and scratchy with 3 inch long prickly hairs that feel surprisingly close to a toilet brush.  Imagine two hours of this toilet brush abrading your calves as every two seconds a rock hard spine bangs against one side of your tail bone and then the other … and you’ve got yourself an elephant ride.  Oh, I forgot the roller coaster portion where we headed down a steep slope with nothing to hold on to.  Although Ot was incredibly careful with her footing, gravity just didn’t permit we three riders to remain in our original positions.  We all slid down toward the head and ended up piled on poor Ot’s neck. I was convinced that we would all topple down her trunk at any second - it was really quite frightening.  Sweet Ot  was gracious about the whole thing allowing us to re-situate when we did finally make it to the bottom of the hill.  Although, later at the river, she was following orders when she repeatedly hosed us down with water and then shook us off her back, dumping us in the water, I’m not convinced that she didn’t do so happily as a little bit of payback.  

So I have to conclude that in general, elephant riding isn’t really all it’s cracked up to be.  As I reflect on all the photos I’ve seen of Asian kings being carried in regal style on a pachyderm, I find it hard to believe that monarchs would allow themselves to be so abused.  Needless to say, although the exorbitant funds I paid to attend elephant camp included as much riding as I wanted, the first experience was more than enough and I passed on the rest.  

banana tree snacks

As a result, playing with the elephants became the highlight of elephant camp.  I soon discovered, however, that in the absence of bananas, the elephants are generally uninterested in much interaction … and it wasn’t long before the camp ran out of bananas.  Looking for something to do, I was happy to accompany some of the camp employees who said they were going to chop down bananas.  That should be interesting, I thought. Turns out, they chopped down entire banana trees!  No surprise if I really thought about it - elephants eat EVERYTHING afterall.  I was interested to see that banana trees are really more of a large plant than a tree.  Their stems have large cells with lots of water; not woody at all.  I counted 27 banana trees that were loaded into the pickup truck.  The driver told me that what seemed like a large number of trees to me would only last the camp’s four elephants one day! 

Later in the day, I went with the mahouts (elephant handlers) to “put the elephants to bed in the jungle” (this is phrasing from the camp advertisement).  The girls were walking single file down a narrow path and I was walking behind them talking with one of the mahouts when I had the once in a lifetime (I hope!) experience of being farted on by the last elephant.  NOT one of the camp highlights!  I can tell you from first hand experience that elephant farts are WAY stinkier than dog farts … and we all know how bad those can be!  

Thom's Pai Elephant Camp

Smelly wind instruments aside, the elephants and the mahouts were great and I give them two thumbs up.  Thom’s Elephant Camp doesn’t fare so well.  I never got the “elephant training” instruction that I paid for and repeatedly asked for.  Additionally, the camp was amazingly stingy with their resources.  My fees included 3 meals a day.  By my choice, I only ate one of those each day, but was hunted down like a thief for 15 baht (about $0.40) when I took a soda from the fridge.  Also, despite there being many empty bunglalows available, Thom insisted I share her bungalow since a shared bungalow was what I had paid for.  Two other “long-timers” at the camp also expressed some displeasure toward the end of their stay regarding similar issues.  Bottom line … if you’re in the area, stop by and feed the elephants bananas (which you can do for free), go for a ride if the above description appeals to you but otherwise, save your money and skip the camp. 

Now that I’ve checked monkeys, tigers and elephants off the list, I guess I need to seek out some bears … or maybe the elusive Irawaddy dolphin.

Videos from elephant camp coming soon … I hope!

fried worms/caterpillars

Have you ever considered how gracious you could/would be if someone hosted you for dinner and presented a big plate of fried grub worms as the premier dish?  Believe it or not, I did consider that a number of years ago when I was reading an article about food in Africa … and I was dying to go to Africa.  I concluded at the time that I would not be able to stomach it and would have to find a way to politely refuse.  I found out first hand tonight that I was wrong. 

I went out for another of my beloved “windy mountain road” drives today, this time headed toward Chiang Mai.  Thirty minutes out of Pai, I came across one of the ubiquitous armed guard checkpoints.  This time I was determined to charm the scary men with guns.  We had some initial confusion. I misunderstood the question “Where are you coming from?” to mean where I was literally coming from, not my country of origin, so that warranted a passport inspection.  

While the one guard was checking my papers, another was inquiring whether I was a Christian.  Rather than get into a discussion about spirituality which I was certain would be misinterpreted, I answered with a simple “Yes. Are you Buddhist?”  “Yes, Buddhist.”  For some reason, intuition told me I should wear my string “Buddha protection” necklace given to me by the monk from my previous road trip.  I pulled it out from under my shirt and showed the guard. “Look! Buddha!” I said hoping to make a connection.  He smiled and pulled three large amulets on a chain from under his shirt.  “More Buddhas,” he laughed.  When I asked whether I could take his picture with his Buddha amulets, all the guards cracked up.  I got my passport back … and a great photo.  

Thai checkpoint guard showing off his Buddha amulets

I continued on my way, anxious to find all the roadside stands that I remembered from my bus trip to Pai on this very road.  Like the road to Mae Hong Son, this one was incredibly twisting with many hairpin curves.  I have definitely improved my motorbike skills since driving in Bali.  Unlike those amazing Balinese mountain roads that were wasted on me a month ago (I tooled along at a pathetic 5-10 kpm), I embraced these curves with gusto.  Safe gusto (so don’t worry, Mom and Dad!) … but gusto nonetheless.  In fact for the first hour of the trip, it was all about the driving because there were no roadside stands in sight.  

Another thirty minutes of driving and my gas tank was just a little below half full. Someone had told me that there was a gas station 50 km out of Pai.  Where was it?  I still had a way to drive and wanted to make sure I’d have plenty of gas to get back.  I was, of course, looking for a full sized station (the gas-in-a-bottle roadside stands that were so prevalent in Bali are few and far between in Thailand).  I got a chuckle out of the gas station when I finally found it.  If not for the faded “GASOLINE” sign, I would easily have mistaken the gas “pumps” for soda fountains or different flavored syrups to pour on shaved ice.  The attendant literally had to pump the gas into the clear dispenser which pushed it into a hose.  She held the hose up and gravity caused it to flow into my tank.  Interesting.

gasoline "station"

 Soon I came across some roadside stands selling fruit.  There was some kind of fruit in front that I didn’t recognized.  I inquired about it and the friendly  people running the stand offered me some of the fruit they were eating.  Excellent!  They first fed me pomello which is similar to a grapefruit but larger and less juicy.  I love grapefruit and pomello as well.  They were pleased when I pronounced it delicious in Thai (aroi) and offered me some nuts to try.  The kept feeding me and I kept saying “aroi.”  I was beginning to feel like a stray dog that had wandered up and successfully begged for food … not exactly the impression I was going for.  So I bought a pomello from them and invited them to share it with me.  Soon, I was also sharing the floor of their fruit stand and we were exchanging stories and laughs (the son, ironically called Pop, spoke very good English and facilitated the discussion).  In addition to fruit, the family also sold orchids which Pop told me they had “liberated” from the jungle.  I kept thinking how much I would like bring some home to my Mom and her friend Shirley (both Master Gardeners), but figured I’d have a tough time getting it through customs.  

Pop with a pomello

At Pop’s suggestion, I drove down the road another 15km toward a waterfall he’d described as especially beautiful.  On the way, I came across an interesting temple that had 26 fairy figurines guarding the steps to the top. The artwork inside was stupendous.   

After also stopping for a quick lunch at a roadside restaurant (some of the best Phad Thai I’ve eaten for 20 Baht - about $.60), I made it to the waterfall … which was gorgeous.  I also marveled at an amazing stand of bamboo trees (which always make me think of sweet Kem Alexander who has her own impressive bamboo forest right in the heart of lovely Chattanooga, Tennessee). Even more than the waterfall, I enjoyed the Thais that I met there.  One group was having a picnic and invited me to join them.  While one of the guys serenaded the group with his guitar and two other group members took turns reading each others’ palms, I had a chat with Sao, a lovely young woman who was a Sociology professor at Chiang Mai University.  We discussed art, religion, sociology and travel.  Definitely my kind of gal!  Sao told me she was moving to Bangkok next week to start work with an NGO helping people from neighboring countries immigrate to Thailand and find jobs.  We exchanged phone numbers and made plan to get together in Bangkok when I travel there in a couple weeks. 

the lovely Mak Fa waterfall and the friendly Thais who welcomed me

At this point it was 2:00 and time to head back to ensure that I arrived in Pai before dark (curvy mountainous roads in the darkness would definitely ruin my beautiful day).  About twenty minutes north of the waterfall, I spotted an older Lisu (hilltribe) woman in traditional Lisu clothing walking in the same direction I was driving and carrying a large, heavy looking pomello.  I had been wanting to meet some hilltribe people but the treks to their villages seemed less than authentic so I had passed on those opportunities.  This opportunity, however, rang of authenticity.  

I pulled over and asked her if she wanted a ride.  I thought she said she was going to Pai, but many of the villages nearby have two to three word names, most of which include Pai or Pae so I figured it was probably one of those and couldn’t be more than 15 to 20 minutes away.  “Sure, I’m headed in that direction,” I told her.  She hopped on.  My first hitchhiker!

“Chan chuu Beverly ka. Kun chuu arai ka?” (My name is Beverly. What is your name?) was my attempt to start a conversation.  She didn’t seem to understand.  “Sabaidee mai ka?” (How are you?) I tried again. Still only embarrassed laughter.  I concluded that either my Thai accent was really bad (although other people all day had understood those very phrases) or she spoke a Lisu dialect and not Thai.  Either way, we rode in silence.  

The night before, I had invited a Thai friend to join me for the day’s motorbike trip.  When discussing the possibility, I told her we would have to go on separate bikes because, although I could drive double, I didn’t dare do so on the curvy mountain roads of Highway 1095.  After 30 minutes of driving the Lisu woman with no stop at a nearby village, I concluded that when she said Pai, she indeed meant Pai … so driving double on 1095’s curvy mountain roads was exactly what I ended up doing … for two hours!  I must say that my confidence in my motorbike skills is rapidly increasing.  We made it back to Pai safely and in good time.  And although the checkpoint guards gave us a curious look, there was no passport inspection this time.

Since we were driving in silence, I had plenty of time to think.  As I came to realize that I was taking this woman all the way to Pai, I began to hope that perhaps she would invite me to meet the other Lisu people in her village; maybe even invite me for dinner.  I could just envision it … my new Lisu friends.  You have to be careful what you wish for…

When we arrived in Pai, she directed me to her home.  As I had hoped, she invited me in and mimed eating and drinking.  Excellent!  I was already imagining the new Lisu friends I would add to my list of interesting people I’d met through my journeys.  She indicated I should sit on the floor next to another older woman who was just finishing a bowl of rice.  Although sitting was the last thing my poor bum wanted to do after having ridden on a motorbike all day, I complied and pulled up a piece of floor.  

I could hear her rumbling around the kitchen.  The other woman who also seemed not to speak Thai fixed a bowl of rice for me, but motioned that I should wait to eat it.  In Thailand, it’s typical at family meals for each person to have their own bowl of rice and to share several different dishes that they spoon on top of the rice.  Sure enough, in a few moments my hitchhiker returned and proudly set down four bowls of toppings to share:  a bowl of boiled vegetables that looked fabulous, a bowl that had two brown hard boiled eggs and some juice (interesting), a bowl of champagne colored gelatin (dessert?) and, the kicker … a bowl of fried caterpillar/grub worms (Oh my God! You’ve got to be kidding!).  

“Please, please” my hitcher gestured.  I happily helped myself to a serving of the vegetables.  When I only took a small spoonful of the worms and jelly, my host took matters into her own hands.  The worms were obviously the most prized delicacy and she mounded them on my plate, making sure I got a larger portion than anyone else.  Mmmm-hmmm…

Luckily, two days before, my friend Daniela and I had decided to be somewhat adventurous eaters and we split a bag of fried crickets.  Once we got over imagining what we were placing in our mouths, they were actually quite good.  The gooey insides that you see when you step on one apparently get all fried away and they taste kind of like a chicken-flavored potato chip, only less crispy.  Although I had a harder time mentally with the mounds of caterpillars on my plate (somehow one at a time is a lot easier to swallow than a mouthful - pardon the pun), I just made up my mind not to offend my host … and down the hatch they went.  Like the crickets, the gooey insides seemed to have been fried away … and they were actually pretty good.  I would never have guessed that I’d be telling you this, but I even went back for seconds. 

Tomorrow I start training at an elephant camp.  It’s never boring in Thailand ….

Additional photos for this and other blog entries can be found on the “Photos of Her Adventure” page of this blog.

Smiley monks, caves with coffins and free range cattle. These are things I’ve found along the road as I’ve taken my motorbike out for day trips around Thailand.  A couple of days ago I drove my motorbike toward the village of Mae Hong Son on the Burmese border.  I didn’t actually make it to Mae Hong Son.  That wasn’t the goal.  The point of the trip was to be out on those fabulous windy mountain roads (I think I’m addicted to motorbike riding) observing and exploring whatever came my way.  

The first thing that came my way was a curve in the road followed by many many more.  The road signs indicated this would be the case all day long.  Speaking of road signs, I have found most of the signage in Thailand to be straightforward and clear.  Like the picture of a squiggly line.  Got it.  “Curves up ahead all day long.”  Or the sign written in Thai but with the English “subtitle” “Sharp curve ahead.”  Also clear.  Other signs were a bit more confusing though.  I still haven’t figured out one with a picture of a tree falling, a fire and deer running.  My mind reads, “Danger, Will Robinson!  Danger!” but I doubt that’s what the Thai authorities had in mind when they printed that one up.  If anyone knows what this means (or wants to take some guesses for the sake of fun), please be my guest and leave a comment!

it's gonna be a curvy one, guys

this sign also makes sense

... but what the heck does this sign mean?

Another unique thing about driving in Thailand is that there are photos of the King posted everywhere (and I don’t mean Elvis).  The Thai people LOVE their King!  

King Bhumibol Adulyadej is a constitutional monarch, but because of his tremendous popularity with the Thai people, he has considerable influence in the county’s political matters.  He is thought to be one of the richest men in the world and has used much of his wealth to fund many development projects, particularly in rural areas of Thailand.   

roadside billboard of the King and Queen

 As a result, the Thai people love him and place photos of him everywhere.  They certainly all have a photo of the king in their home.  I even noticed photos of the king hanging on the walls of the bamboo huts in the very poor hilltribe village that I trekked through to get to the Muay Thai gym.  And on the roadside, there are billboard posters of the King everywhere. Although there are plenty in which he’s just posing and looking “royal,” many of these billboards portray him in “civil servant action mode” working with the people, signing some document, playing his saxophone.  

Passing by the King (or rather his billboards), the many curves and the signs warning me about the many curves, I came across a unique sign announcing an interesting attraction:  Coffin Caves.  I had read just the night before about a group of caves in North Thailand in which archeologists had recently discovered coffins that were over 1200 years old.  How many coffin caves could there be?  I decided to check it out.  

the guardian of the Coffin Caves?

I approached an official looking bamboo hut to pay the admission fee and was surprised to learn that there was no charge.  Strange.  Everything in Thailand has a charge; incidentally, it’s always higher for foreigners than for locals.  I followed their pointing hands to a path leading into the woods.  Not far in, sitting on the branch of a young bamboo tree was a small stuffed bear.  I have no idea what he was doing there.  Maybe a child had put her bear there and then forgot it when she left.  Or maybe someone placed the bear in the tree as a guardian for the Coffin Caves.  Either way, it made me smile and think of my friend Glen Billy who not only has an affinity for bears and rabbits, both stuffed and real, but who’s writing a sweet children’s book about them.  How’s that book coming, Glen?

bamboo ladder

I wandered farther up the path which became steeper the farther I went.  Someone had installed bamboo stairs and eventually, where it got really steep, a bamboo ladder.  I climbed the ladder, hiked up some more stairs and my eyes perked up at the sight of some interesting looking rock caves that appeared weathered, gnarled and twisted (there’s not enough room for all the photos here but I have photos of this in the “Photos of Her Adventure” section of the blog).  After I took my photos, I looked for an approach to continue on the path which seemed to disappear at this rock face.  As if on cue, a Thai man walked up carrying a small cup of paint in one hand and a paint brush in the other.   He introduced himself as Dom, a scientist working for an NGO in neighboring Sappong to study the caves and open them for tourist visits.  His plan for the day was to paint directional signs on the rocks because it wasn’t obvious where people should look to find the coffins.  I’ll say.

Dom put down his cup of paint and offered his guiding services.  I remain incredibly grateful because without him, I can assure you I not only would never have known where to look, I certainly wouldn’t have had the courage to climb the rocks to get to the coffins.  The first move that I was trying to figure out when Dom approached required us to essentially suction-cup ourselves to a rock and hope that gravity would suspend itself for 5-10 seconds while we hoisted ourselves from one rock to another three feet to the right.  Dom made this move look easy and gave me the confidence I needed.  It was impossible to do the contortionist-suction-cup maneuver with my backpack so I handed it and my camera up to Dom, sucked in every part of my body, imagined I was Spiderman (or Spiderwoman … at that moment gender was the last thing on my mind) and climbed the rock to safety.  Holy cow! I never would have figured that out on my own!  

the stunningly beautiful Coffin Caves

The next bit wasn’t bad.  Lots of climbing.  And contorting. At one point, Dom said “Only 10 more kilometers.”  I chalked it up to bad translation or a twisted sense of humor on Dom’s part and hoisted on.  Dom was anxious to show me the coffins, but I was amazed at the caves themselves and kept stopping to marvel … and of course to take photos.  

We finally got to the first cave with a coffin.  The coffin was a large tree that had been hollowed out to hold a body.  If the tree had any bark on it, it was entirely removed.  The tree trunk coffin was suspended in the air by three to four other similar hollowed out tree trunks.  Between the little English he knew and the little Thai I had learned, Dom was able to explain to me that the coffins were about 1,250 years old and that no one knew who was buried there or why they were buried in this manner. 

the main coffin at the Coffin Caves

The “room” of this particular cave didn’t get much light and the marine battery placed there to light the room wasn’t working.  No problem, I told Dom.  Although my “big” camera doesn’t have a flash (a definite downside to the Canon 5D), my little one does … that’s in the seat of my motorbike out in the parking lot!  Argh!  I couldn’t believe it!  There was NO WAY that I was going to hike all that way back to my bike to retrieve my Powershot that I thought I had put in my backpack.  Oh well.  I set my ISO to 1600 and opened my aperture as wide as it would go (sorry, getting into geeky camera speak there), I made my body into a tripod as best I could, a technique I learned in photo school, exhaled, stood as still as I possibly could and took the photo.  It’s amazing how much your body moves in 2.5 seconds even when you feel like you’re as solid as a rock.  I took four photos in this manner and the last one turned out ok.  Still fuzzy and not great, but here it is nonetheless.  Thankfully the other cave with a coffin was open to the sunlight and well lit so photographing it was easy.  Getting there was not.

The jeans I was wearing probably canceled out the fact that I’m pretty limber.  Dom, who was both limber and wearing athletic pants and had obviously clambered this route a time or two, would fly on ahead and then wait for me directing “Put your right foot there.  Now your left one on that rock.  Step there.  Turn around and go up/down backwards.” As I said before, without his direction, I wouldn’t have seen any of these magnificent caves.  

scrambling around in the caves

posing with a coffin (never thought I'd be writing THAT subtitle!)

After we made it to the second coffin cave and I took a few shots, Dom suggested I climb over to where the coffin was and he would take my photo with it.  Down. Up. Down. Up. I made it.  Dom directed me to cross to the opposite side of the coffin which required me to climb awkwardly through the two log poles that were holding it up.  I envisioned a Charlie Brown moment where I would lose my balance, instinctively grab one of the logs and send the 1250+ year old coffin crashing to the ground, probably crushing myself in the process as well as destroying this amazing architectural find.  I didn’t even want to consider how profoundly stupid I would appear in the headlines. I was kind of surprised that Dom was encouraging me to climb around over there and not envisioning the same headlines.  Such was his enthusiasm for sharing his passion I guess.

To protect us both, “Don’t touch the logs. Don’t touch the logs,” became my mantra as I limbo’d my way through them for the fabulous photo opp that Dom apparently envisioned.  Safe on the other side of the coffin supports, I finally looked in Dom’s direction.  I concluded that the wrong one of us was holding the camera.  While I had been twisting myself into a pretzel to avoid touching the log supports, Dom had morphed into a mountain goat and was now perched with one foot each on two pointy rocks that looked like they could impale someone (Technically the term might be stalagmites, but they didn’t appear to be formed from dripping so you scientist types can get off my back.  We’ll go with the term “pointy rocks” for the time being).  Standing this way, Dom seemed to be almost floating in midair.  

perched on the pointy rocks

“Dom! YOU are the tremendous photo opp here!” I shouted.  “Let me climb over there, get the camera from you, climb back and take your photo. This shot of you is incredible!”  Turns out, Dom’s camera shy.  He took my photo by the coffin instead (OK, I had earned that one with the limbo) and then insisted that we switch places so he could photograph me perched precariously on the two pointy rocks.  “Be the mountain goat. Be the mountain goat,” became my new mantra.   Once safely there, I only regret that I didn’t strike a more dramatic pose.  I guess at the time, I still wasn’t sure I was “safely there.”

There were more caves with coffins, but these were being researched by archeologists and were closed to tourists so after all the photo opps, Dom and I clambered (rather, Dom glided and I clambered) back to the “suction cup rock.”  He told me he was planning to build a bamboo ladder here.  I agreed, that would definitely make at least that portion of getting to the coffins easier.  He also shared with me his concerns that even if he clearly marked with paint how to get to the coffins, that many people would not be able to make it.  I agreed.  Given all the precarious climbing we’d done that day, I couldn’t imagine the caves as a viewing opportunity for the masses.  Dom definitely had his work cut out for him.  

After thanking him profusely, I left Dom with his cup of paint and slid down the suction cup rock (much easier than going up it).  As I hiked down, I marveled at the beautiful caves, the mysterious coffins and at this kind man who cheerfully donated a couple hours of his time to make sure I enjoyed both.  I paid more attention as I arrived back at the parking lot.  I noticed that the Coffin Caves sign, surrounded with bamboo scaffolding and kept company by a tiny cup and a paintbrush, was still a work in progress.  The bamboo triangle that pointed the way to the squat toilets that didn’t yet hold water was blank; no one had yet painted “toilet” on it.  I reflected back to the fact that no admission fee was charged to enter the caves.  I guess this is still an “up and coming” tourist attraction.  I’m grateful to have been able to visit it when I did.

the Coffin Cave sign under construction

I scarfed down my little picnic lunch I brought with me and motored on.  All along the road, I kept seeing signs for different hilltribe villages.  That could be quite interesting, I thought.  After passing through a drug checkpoint, I made a right turn and headed toward one such village.  Throughout North Thailand (and maybe the rest of it - I just haven’t been there to comment), there are drug checkpoints in the road, manned by Thai military personnel carrying machine guns.  It sounds scary, but they’ve always just waved the tourists through that I’ve seen.  The checkpoints are not mobile.  Their locations are even marked on the maps which makes me question the logic of them.  It seems that drug traffickers could just find alternate routes to avoid the checkpoints.  As I’m not a drug trafficker though, I just smiled, drove past and continued to enjoy my drive.

It was a slightly different situation when, only ten minutes later, I came to another checkpoint, this one not marked on my map.  This time, the armed men (Men is stretching it.  These boys appeared to be about twenty years old.) stopped me.  I donned my best sweet innocent tourist face (I was, afterall), smiled and said, “Sewatdee ka.  Sebaidee mai ka?” in my best Thai (“Hello. How are you?”)  The one with the gun smiled and returned my greeting.  The one without the gun remained serious.  At least I had favorably impressed the right one if you ask me.  “Where are you going?” the serious boy asked.  Still Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, “Just out for a drive.  I saw the sign for the hilltribe village and thought I’d take a look.”  Smile. Bat eyelashes.  

Serious Boy kept looking toward my backpack and that had me worried.  I didn’t have drugs or any sort of contraband but I had brought along $1300 in US cash.  A friend of mind had told me the night before that he didn’t know anyone who drove to Mae Hong Son without falling on their motorbike.  He stopped just shy of betting me that I wouldn’t break that statistic.  Although I figured I’d be fine, I brought the money along just in case I had a fall … and one serious enough to require a hospital visit.  I was concerned that if he searched my bag, he might find the money and take some portion of it as a bribe.  I hadn’t heard about that much in Thailand, but it happened in Bali with the police regularly so it didn’t seem out of the question.  Luckily, although his eyes passed over my pack several times, that was all and I was allowed to go on my way.  

monastery - monks living quarters

I made it to the hilltribe village, but, as seems to be the custom these days, no one was wearing any traditional clothing so they just looked like poor people living in bamboo houses on stilts.  They were friendly and waved as I drove by.  Not anxious to visit with Serious Boy again so soon, I continued on and came to another village.  Many of these houses were also on stilts. I’ve learned that this is typically a sign of a hilltribe, but I suppose anyone can put a house on stilts.  As I approached, I heard sharp loud sounds that conceivably could have been gunshots.  I didn’t see any people.  Surely no one was shooting at me, I thought and motored on, but a little slower.  I kept hearing the sounds, but saw no evidence of bullets flying anywhere near me.  Finally, I came upon a group of boys who were playing with a Thai version of firecrackers and laughed at my misperception.  

The village had lovely temple and monastery so I parked my bike and wandered over to some child monks hanging out on the steps.  I’m not sure if it was the sight of a foreigner or a woman or the combination that sent them running upstairs, but within minutes I was left alone, except for one of the temple boys who remained sitting on the steps studying me.  He smiled shyly as I took his picture and then ran upstairs with the other boys.  As I crossed back under the monastery (which was raised on concrete pillars), another firecracker exploded and I jumped.  Appparently, even the boy monks had been in on the firecracker mischief and had left some unexploded artillery behind in their haste to get away from me.  

religious artwork decorating the monastery interior

I was about to get on my bike and leave when a car pulled up with the head monk inside.  He waved to me and smiled.  That was all the invitation I needed.  I put my bike key away and headed over.  “Sewatdee ka.  Sebaidee mai ka?”  We exchanged greetings and he indicated that it was alright for me to go upstairs.  I removed my shoes (that’s the custom before entering a home or temple in Asia) and headed up. I looked around while I waited for him.  I hadn’t been in a monastery before.  This one seemed pretty modern although I had nothing with which to compare it. 

Shortly, the smiley monk came upstairs and invited me to sit with him.  I knew it was considered respectful in Thailand to keep your head lower than that of a monk’s, but I hadn’t spent any time around monks since my arrival in Thailand.  Accordingly, I was caught a little off guard when he indicated I should sit on the floor while he took a seat on some cushions one step above. I immediately began reviewing in my mind the other “monk rules” I had read so as to avoid giving offense to my happy host.  

I had read that women are not supposed to touch monks or even hand things or take things from them directly so I was surprised when the monk passed a cup of hot tea into my hands without setting it down first.  Maybe he’s a liberal monk, I thought.  I was out of my element here so I just followed his lead.  

He told me his name was Chun.  His English was only slightly better than my Thai, but we managed to communicate a little.  I told him that I was from the US and that I had arrived in his village on motorbike.  He told me that after a serious motorbike accident in Chiang Mai, he was afraid of motorbikes and only drove in cars.  He was concerned about my drive home on the winding roads so he presented me with a little red silk tassle that he said represented Buddha.  He strung it up for me on a piece of yarn, blessed it and indicated I should wear it around my neck “for safety and good luck from Buddha” on my way home.  

We quickly reached the limits of our foreign linguistic abilities so for five minutes or so, we just sat and smiled at each other and drank our tea.  I showed him the photos on my camera from the places I had been that day.  And then we sat in silence again. 

As a monk, I’m sure he’s much more comfortable with silence than I, a hyperactive Western woman.  So of course, after a bit I tried to fill the time with questions:  How many monks live here?   How old were you when you became a monk? What are your plans for the day?  Many of the answers were lost in translation.  What I understood him to say was that 23 monks lived there … but I only saw 5.  He said (or rather I understood) that he had been a monk for 23 years (this was a popular number) but he also told me that he became a monk when he was 18 and that now he was 33 so again maybe lost in translation.  “What are you doing for the rest of the day?” sent the poor monk to the back room where I heard him blow the dust off an English book.  He handed the book to me and I tried to find something close to what I was asking … or just something that we might talk about.  

The first phrase I saw was “Can you type fast and accurately?”  Hmmm… not really what I was going for.  I flipped through the book for a bit while the monk sat patiently waiting.  The book, written in the fifties, was clearly aimed at tourists, with the blatant exception of the question about typing.  Most of the conversations were about buying things and going on tours and arranging hotels.  I did find a short section discussing wats (temples) and monks that indicated that monks only eat two meals per day.  I pointed this out to the monk and asked him about it.  His short answer (yes) ended that conversation.  So he smiled some more.  And I smiled some more.  

Although I had failed to ascertain his plans for the day, I was sure that he had some and I didn’t want to keep him from them.  So I thanked him for the tea and his hospitality.  I asked him if I could photograph him with the young boy monks.  He either didn’t understand or didn’t want his photo taken because he indicated that I could photograph the boys but didn’t make a move to join them.  The boys clearly didn’t want their photos taken (just as well since I discovered I’d used all my battery in showing Chun my trip photos) so I told them all goodbye and hopped back on my motorbike.

free range Thai cattle enjoying the views

On my way back to the checkpoint, I came across a group of free range cattle (common in Thailand) two of which were laying in the road (also somewhat common).  It’s the little differences in life that I love about traveling!  Although Serious Boy was even more interested in my comings and goings this time, I made it through his checkpoint with no problems.  Later when I was looking at a map, I realized that if I had continued past the monk’s village, the road would have lead to the Burmese border.  Perhaps that’s why Serious Boy and his smilling, arms-toting croney were stationed there.  Interesting.

I made it safely past all the curves without falling and rolled into Pai just as a big rainstorm threatened to unleash itself on the tiny town.  I couldn’t resist stopping at the children’s fair that had just opened up.  A quick whirl on the ferris wheel and some fried fair food were a perfect ending to this interesting spontaneous day.  

the ferris wheel at the children's fair

Additional photos for this and other blog entries can be found on the “Photos of Her Adventure” page of this blog.

The signs were all there that Pai was a place I would love. On the drive from Chiang Mai, the flat to rolling terrain I’d seen through much of Thailand thus far was replaced by winding, mountainous roads thickly lined with banana trees which are by far my favorite tree in Southeast Asia.  As we got closer and closer to Pai, the switch-backs become shorter and more frequent.  This stretch of road is reputed to be the curviest in all of Thailand. I’ve seen a statistic on a t-shirt here that there are 762 curves in the 125 km of road between Chiang Mai and Pai and having ridden it, I don’t doubt it. That’s basically a curve every 500 feet.  The bus driver was definitely in second gear for the vast majority of the trip.

tea for sale in Pai

In addition to the banana trees, many houses and roadside stands edged up to the road and tucked behind them were gorgeous green rice fields.  The best thing, however, was that people at the stands smiled and waved to us as we drove by!  I couldn’t wait to get on a motorbike and ride through the switchbacks, stopping at the stands to practice my new Thai with these friendly smiling people.  

The only regular size bus from Chiang Mai to Pai is unairconditioned and I’m told makes frequent stops turning the three hour trip into a seven hour one so I opted for the air conditioned mini-bus option which is basically a large passenger van.  I befriended the Thai couple, Lew and Che, sitting next to me who were going to Pai for a week long vacation.  

At a mid-way stop, three Israeli guys who were sitting behind us in the van assembled a hookah at a roadside table and began to smoke.  One of them, obviously sensitive to others’ perceptions, was quick to tell all the curious onlookers, “Not drugs.  Only tobacco.”  My friend Mordy from South Florida had been telling me before my departure about the delights of smoking a hookah.  He is planning on opening a hookah bar in either Mexico City or in Argentina and was anxious to share his passion for it with me.  I was disappointed that we were never able to coordinate a hookah trial in the busy days before I left Fort Lauderdale.  So when the Israeli guys invited me to join them, I didn’t hesitate for a second.  The tobacco comes in many flavors, most of them fruit.  Mordy had also told me that a chocolate flavor existed although he liked to mix flavors to create fruity or fruit and chocolate concoctions.  The hookah I tried was apple flavored.  I enjoyed it and the conversation with the Israelis. They were all engineering students about to begin their requisite six year military service in the Israeli army.  When I told them I was an artist, one of them wisely commented that doing what you love is a privilege.  I heartily agreed.

a typical boutique of items for sale in Pai

Pai is a small village of about 2,500 people that sits in a valley surrounded on three sides with mountains.  It’s located in northwest Thailand near the Myanmar border.  When our bus pulled into Pai at 5:30, the afternoon light was painting magic colors on the surrounding country landscape.  We rolled into town and I immediately felt at home. 

a Lisu hilltribe street vendor

Pai’s “downtown” consists of four main streets that form a square.  The resemblance to the town featured in the TV series Northern Exposure is uncanny.  In place of snow, food stalls, restaurants and vendors of hilltribe handicrafts line the streets and in lieu of a big moose wandering down Main Street, Pai’s thoroughfare is filled with friendly dogs who shake paws and lift well-practiced sad eyes to beg food from dining tourists.  These dogs are well groomed and well fed - clearly quite popular with the tourist crowd. I’ve been convinced by several to share my dinner and still can’t get over how gently they took the food from my hand, not snapping the way many dogs do. 

The energy on the streets reminds me of the shakedown before a Grateful Dead show … laid back, friendly, hippie’ish, artsy, funky.  Pai is the kind of place where restaurant and coffee shop owners instinctively know that couches and swings are more inviting and fun than regular chairs and incorporate them into their shops. Pai is known to be a center of liberalism, in great contrast to the otherwise fairly conservative Thai culture. I wouldn’t say that Pai feels very Thai.  It’s just a fabulously weird and magical little corner of the world that happens to be in Thailand. Getting into the funky Pai spirit, I wrote part of this entry from a beauty salon chair while two Thai women put hundreds of tiny braids in my hair.  

my new braids

There is great diversity among the people living and visiting in Pai.  It’s a place where you can see a local Muslim woman covered from head to toe except her eyes talking animatedly with dreadlocked tourist wearing a skimpy tank top and short shorts.  On my second day in town, I was introduced to a Catholic priest by his good friend, Lek, a self-proclaimed gay pagan witch who owns the Witching Well Coffee Shop, a gathering point in Pai. This morning while I ate my rice soup breakfast, I watched three monks on their daily pilgrimage collecting food from locals seeking to make merit.  There are the local Thais who work hard running their tourist-driven businesses, expats from around the world who’ve been permanently charmed by Pai’s magic and more Israelis vacationing here than I’ve ever met in my life.  I’ve been offered three potential homes in Jerusalem should I ever come visit.  It’s such a small and friendly town, I’m constantly waving at locals and tourists I’ve met as I wander around, giving me the feeling that I’ve lived here for years instead of only visiting for a couple weeks.

same bathroom from a different angle

my cool bathroom at Pai Chan Guesthouse

I’m staying in a little bungalow at the Pai Chan Guesthouse (www.paichan.com) which is located in the countryside overlooking rice fields just outside of town.  This guesthouse is spectacular.  Each “room” is a separate bungalow set in the midst of an amazingly landscaped mini-jungle.  I am greeted each morning by a fully loaded Japanese melon tree right outside my front door.  The entire guesthouse is fashionably designed, but my bathroom is one of my favorite features.  Those of you who saw my art gallery when I had it know that I love to design a funky bathroom (you can still see the photos at www.angledart.com) I’m sure that my current bathroom is going to offer inspiration to the next house I get my hands on.  The shower is open air with lovely blue tile floor and the rest of the room is covered with thatch roof.  The designers have used concrete creatively incorporating it into decoratively designed walls.   

Pai Chan has a gorgeous blue-tiled pool with open-air thatch hut buildings all around.  I’ve spent much of my time in Pai, lazing away in a poolside hammock that swings from one of the open sided thatch hut “buildings.”  Facing in one direction, I can observe the pool.  If I turn the other way, I have a lovely view of bright green rice fields which of course reminds me of Bali so it brings a smile.  Again, the designers have made creative use of concrete combining it and green grass to create beautiful and interesting designs on the guesthouse grounds.  For all this fabulousness, I’m paying a whopping 250 baht which is about $7 per night.  In low season, the price drops to $5.  

one of the cool concrete and grass designs at Pai Chan

The spirit in Pai encourages me to try new and different things; to broaden my horizons.  In an effort to stay fit on the road, I’ve started taking Muay Thai (Thai kick boxing) classes at the True Bee Gym (www.true-bee.com).  During the heaviest rains last month, the bridge that connected the gym to central Pai washed away so the first few days, the only way to the gym was to motorbike down a steep and  deeply gullied dirt path (reminiscent of my tour with Jong) and then to hike through a hilltribe village.  I can’t believe I found the place!  Since then, a new bamboo bridge has been built across the river so now I park my motorbike on one side of the bridge and hike across (constantly in awe of the Thais’ use of natural resources as building materials) then through some tall grassy fields to get to the gym. 

the new bamboo bridge leading to True-Bee Muay Thai gym

The gym is a small, open-air (isn’t everything in Southeast Asia?) boxing ring with a metal roof covering. There are 5 trainers and about 7-8 other students from all over the world; all guys except for one other girl, Yanna.  Yanna is beautiful, Swedish and much younger than I am.  She’s either incredibly shy or simply uninterested in my efforts to make friendly conversation.  She’s been training for eighteen months and I suspect is having a relationship with one of the trainers. I’ve heard that her parents own a Muay Thai gym in Krabi, a southern island in Thailand.  The trainers are all locals while the guy students are from Chile, Germany, Australia, New Zealand, France and Virginia.  Although a couple of them are just trying to stay in shape as I am, most of them have serious intentions of fighting professionally.  Most of the trainers have fought professionally including Mr. Bee who seems to be something of a celebrity.  Some of the students take great delight in teaching each other the choicest curse words in their various languages along with their English meanings.  If I ever wondered what went on in the boys’ locker room….  Sometimes they apologize to me later, saying “I forgot a lady was present.”  I’ve never known what to say to that statement so I just smile and nod.  It’s definitely sweat-and-spit kind of gym.    

The training is interesting.  We start our training by running 6-10 km.  So far, I’ve done this on my own due to miscommunications about where and when to meet for the group runs. When we arrive at the gym, we skip rope for about ten minutes (or in my case, as long as I can) and do various other warm-ups.  This is not the easy feat it used to be when I was ten years old.  As I finish, I have visions of Rocky slapping his rope on the ground after a particularly grueling, but successful workout.  Yeah, not quite there.  

Muay Thai (kickboxing) at True-Bee Gym

As the trainers tape up my hands and I don boxing gloves, my visions switch from Rocky to Million Dollar Baby.  Somehow when I signed up for this, I was picturing the kickboxing classes I used to take back at my American gym where a girl could still be a girl and get a good workout.  Decked out as I am here, surrounded by the smell of sweat and testosterone (yes, here I believe you can actually smell testosterone … or maybe I’m just confusing that with body odor), I’m feeling less feminine than I’m comfortable feeling.  But I believe a little discomfort is good for expanding boundries … and I only paid for a week of training.  I don’t really think I’ll grow hair on my chest before then, so what the heck?  I’m getting a great workout … and interesting language lessons!  

We don’t spar with each other during the lessons.  We actually review various offensive and defensive techniques and then put them to the test against a trainer who’s wearing pads and calls out the kicks or punches we should use.  Between each session, another trainer poors water in our mouths (our hands are still in the boxing gloves) and then gives us a mini-muscle massage.  

Besides being bathed in sweat at the end of the session, the other gym highlights for me are the four-week old puppies who live on sight and the fabulous array of Thai food brought in from the market that we share family style after the workout.   

enjoying campucha with Daniela

Another new experience for me in Pai is campucha, a tea made from mushrooms that tastes like apple cider with a kick.  The owner of The Good Life, where my friends and I enjoy campucha, swears there’s no alcohol in it, but we know we get a buzz after drinking only a little.  Must be the mushrooms.  My daily routine in Pai has evolved into a morning Muay Thai workout, snoozing or emailing from the poolside hammock at the guesthouse or taking my motorbike out into the Pai countryside. Most evenings, you’ll find me, my German friend Daniela and a few other assorted travelers hanging out at The Good Life sharing campucha and discussing the philosophy of life.  We’ve concluded it’s good (life … but campucha too).

The night I arrived in Pai, after settling into my guesthouse, I drove my motorbike toward town.  As I got closer, I saw some beautiful and mysterious glowing orange lanterns floating about thirty feet off the ground and rising into the air.  Mesmerized, I stopped to watch for a moment. In a few minutes, I came to the bridge to town where people were lighting the lanterns and releasing them.  The hot air from the mini fires created the warm glow and also carried the lanterns up into the air.  I’ve since learned that these Chinese lanterns are used only in the northern part of Thailand.  People use them to deliver their wishes and prayers to the skies or alternatively to carry their bad luck far away.  Either way, it was a lovely and magical welcome to this unusual little crossroads in the world.

Would YOU settle for just a slice of this Pai?

Additional photos for this and other blog entries can be found on the “Photos of Her Adventure” page of this blog.

Before I get into this entry, I want to acknowledge the economic crisis that’s affecting so many people in the US and around the world. I must admit that I feel a bit whiny talking about how I’m not connecting to Thailand when so many people have lost so much in the recent stock market crashes and bank failures. It certainly puts all of this in perspective for me. My sincere sympathies to each of you who have been affected. In particular, my thoughts and well wishes go to my many artist friends in the midst of the fall art show circuit. Best of luck to you guys. I hope that some people are still able to open their wallets and give homes to your amazing art work.

———————-

Maybe I’ve given a mis-impression of Thailand. It’s not that the people here are mean or ugly; not at all (except for that knife-vending woman who WAS rather abrupt.) I just haven’t experienced that “Welcome to Thailand! We’re so glad you’re here!” kind of magic that I did when I was in Bali … or Mexico, Brazil, Morocco or many other places I’ve traveled to. But I notice that one common denominator among all of those countries is that I at least spoke a little of the local language and people really seemed to appreciate me making the effort. Perhaps it’s just trying that opens doors in these countries. Think of all the times Americans get upset when people come to our country and never attempt to learn English. I figure it’s the same thing so hopefully by learning some Thai, I’ll open some doors here in Thailand.

from Chiang Rai to Chiang Mai and on to Pai (there are no direct buses from Chiang Rai to Pai)

I’m currently on a bus on my way to Pai, a small village in Northwest Thailand that has a reputation for being funky, artsy with a sorty of hippie subculture. Should be interesting!

I finished my final Thai language lesson last night - eight hours of lessons in a 36 hour period. My teacher told me that normally she would stretch this course out over 6 - 8 days, longer if the student had the time, but I was in a hurry so we crammed it into two. Crammed is exactly what it felt like too.  If Thai language and lessons were tangible objects, you’d see them oozing out of my ears and nose right now, I’m sure!  I definitely didn’t come close to retaining it all … or even 50%.  But on my way back to my hotel last night, I passed through the night bazaar and sought out a one-of-a-kind hand-embroidered skirt that I’d had my eye on for the past three days. I was proud and excited that I managed to negotiate for and buy the skirt … entirely in Thai!  (My end of the conversation was basically:  ”Hi. How are you? Can I try this on? How much is it? Can you give me a discount? [note that bargaining is standard practice throughout Southeast Asia. I would never ask an artist for a discount back home!] Can you give me a bigger discount?  How about 300 baht? No? OK, 500 baht (about $15) is fine. Thank you. Goodnight.”)  Not bad for two days of Thai lessons.  

All my commentary about not yet finding a real connection to Thailand doesn’t mean that I haven’t been out adventuring and filling my time trying to find one, although it was a bit slow getting things going in Chiang Rai. On the bus trip up here, my friend Steve (from the cooking class) came down with a fever, body aches and general flu-like symptoms. My Canadian friend Lindsay who I met in Bali and have hung out with a bit in Thailand too recently contracted dengue fever, a mosquito-borne illness also known as “breakbone illness” because of the severe muscle and bone aches suffered by the victim. Other than that, the symptoms for dengue (and malaria) are very similar to the flu although the outcome is much more serious (malaria can be deadly within a 48 hour period if untreated).

Wat Rong Kuhn - the White Temple

I just spent several days of the past week with Lindsay at the hospital in Chiang Mai getting her diagnosis, shopping for movies to keep her occupied and checking up on her after she was admitted to the hospital. It’s currently the tail end of rainy season here in Thailand … prime mosquito conditions; a fact I hadn’t even considered in scheduling my visit during this time. Needless to say, after Lindsay’s bad experience (she had a fever of 105 which didn’t break for days, couldn’t eat, began fainting and was suffering severe muscle aches), I immediately started taking my malaria pills and coating myself with 50% DEET mosquito repellant (the strongest I could find here).

So when Steve began complaining of headaches, fever and general flu-like symptoms on the bus on the way up to Chiang Rai, I was fearful that he might have dengue as well (which lasts for about three weeks and, other than taking medicine to keep the fever down, there’s not much you can do for it but suffer through it). Luckily, it turns out it was only a 24 hour virus, but that pretty much kept us close to the hotel for a couple days while he recovered. I, of course, used the time to catch up on journaling and emails.

Two days after we arrived, though, we were ready to get out and start adventuring so we hired a local guide, Jong, who works out of the hotel at which we were staying. A random, comical and interesting day ensued.

Buddha floating on a lotus blossum at the White Temple

 

In negotiating our tour, Jong explained that part of the deal was that we had to take him on our motorbike to get his motorbike and then we would follow him to the various places on our tour for the rest of the day. To do this, Jong told us, we would need to ride with three people on the motorbike until we got his bike. We assumed (and we all know NEVER to assume!) that his bike was about 5 to 10 minutes away. No problem, we thought. We’d driven with three people on the bike a few times around Chiang Mai … and I’d seen the Thai and Balinese load up to five people on a bike. Sure, let’s do it!

We piled on the bike - Jong driving, me in the middle (because Steve didn’t want to put his hands around Jong’s waist - silly macho boys!) and Steve in the back. Jong drove us through town … to the outskirts of town … and right out of town. “We have to go to my village to get my bike,” Jong said. Still not learning our lesson about assuming, we assumed (again incorrectly) that his village must be the next one over. We drove another 20 minutes … still no village. “We’ll stop to see the White Temple first because it’s on the way to my village.” Jong told us. Ok, no problem. Mai pen rai (a catch-all Thai phrase which can mean whatever, it’s all good, no problem, it doesn’t matter and even you’re welcome).

We stopped at the White Temple. Rather than telling us about the temple, Jong excused himself to go visit with a friend. Excellent tour guide, we thought. Mai pen rai. The first thing we noticed on our approach was the “moat monster” … some kind of scary stone creature emerging from the moat surrounding the temple, presumably there to scare away any evil spirits. Even under construction and surrounded by scaffolding, the moat monster was doing his duty, bearing his teeth and claws even while about to eat a fish that was almost as scary looking as the moat monster himself. 

the "moat monster" guarding the temple

The White Temple was a beautifully constructed wat that was entirely white in color and adorned with thousands of little silver mirrors in contrast to the standard gold temples that might also have smatterings of red trim. It was pretty to look out, but the white colors and silver mirrors reminded me of ice. I got chilly just looking at it. I was immediately a big fan though of the

Sans guide, Steve and I roamed around the grounds and finally inside the temple itself where we came across a very surreal Dali-esque sci-fi type mural on the back wall. One portion of the mural featured the infamous second plane about to strike the Twin Towers on 9/11. A giant, hellish looking two-headed snake emerged from the fires of the already burning first tower. Keanu Reeves in his black Matrix coat made an appearance in another section of the mural. There was no literature to explain the mural and we couldn’t find any sort of temple guide to tell us about it. So we left and met Jong outside. When we asked about the mural, he had no idea what we were talking about.

The three of us piled back on the motorbike still headed for Jong’s village. Slow learners, Steve and I decided that Jong must live just around the corner.

the White Temple's sci-fi mural of hell features the Twin Towers on 9.11

even Keanu Reeves makes an appearance in the White Temple's fascinating sci-fi mural

We raised our eyebrows at each other twenty minutes later when we turned off the small country road and onto a gravel road. Our mouths dropped when, after another twenty minutes, we exchanged the gravel road for a dirt road. “Jong, how much farther to your village?” we asked, with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. This was insane!

“Five kilometers up the mountain. In one kilometer you’ll see views from the mountain. And I live in a Karen village so you’ll get to see that too,” he answered excitedly, oblivious to our amazement at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Jong can’t measure. His five kilometers was actually about twenty-five. Luckily, Steve and I are both fans of random experiences … and this was climbing the charts of random … so we both laughed when Jong finally pulled the bike over at a tiny crossroads and announced that this was his home. Only 1.5 hours from our hotel. Oh well, we chuckled. At least we’d seen some interesting Thai countryside. I was amazed at the density and the height of the lush green-ness that surrounded us on these tiny roads. Some of the thick grasses soared fifteen feet in the air. I would intimidated on a large scale if I had to clear any sort of path through this jungle of growth.

Karen house in Jong's neighborhood

Jong asked us to wait by the motorbike and a few minutes later came back with his own. “I need you to give me 200 baht and wait here for twenty minutes. My bike needs some repairs,” he announced. His front tire was completely flat. Steve and I started laughing out loud as the situation grew more and more absurd. Of course Jong had not only known how far his bike was from the hotel, but also knew that it would need work when we finally got to it. These kinds of things are why he’s still in “tour guide school,” Steve and I laughed with each other. Enjoying the pure comedy of the situation (what else could we do) we paid Jong for the whole day so he didn’t need to ask for any more money and we wandered around his “neighborhood” while we waited for him to come back.

As Jong drove away on his flat tire, I not only wondered about whether he was ruining his rim but whether we were naive to pay him all we owed him stranded out in the middle of God knows where. But we were camped out in front of his house. He had to come home at some point. So, mai pen rai. Let’s just see what’s around the corner.

We wandered for twenty minutes through the Karen village (Karen are another hilltribe) that was his neighborhood. We came to what was clearly a dead-end: the concrete road ended and turned into a muddy slippery steep hill that didn’t look very inviting. We turned around, walked back to Jong’s house and then waited by the bike for another fifteen minutes. Although I was enjoying watching the pigs, chickens and dogs that were all around us, I was beginning to rethink my earlier conclusion. Just then, Jong motored up. “Let’s go get some lunch!” he said excitedly. The first good idea he’d had all day.

dog napping in a Karen house across the street from Jong's house

We were glad to have a little more “bum room” on our bike as we followed Jong … right to that muddy slippery steep uninviting hill that we had earlier concluded was a dead end. Given the day’s previous absurdities, I knew immediately that Jong was not joking with us. We were going off-road into serious motor-cross country. Never mind that our motorbike was just a little automatic 125 cc scooter and not a real off-road bike. Never mind that Jong had neglected to ask us if we were experienced drivers … or nervy ones. Never mind … well anything. Steve and I looked at each other and shrugged. Mai pen rai. We had wanted an interesting adventure. Here it was. Let’s go for it.

Turns out, Steve’s a good off-road driver. I’ve learned how to drive double on a motorbike, but he’s much better than I am so I let him do the honors. Boys will always be boys … he was delighted to take the wheel and get dirty.

I was starting to feel comfortable with our muddy off-road adventure when we rounded a corner to find Jong stopped at the bottom of the steepest, muddiest hill we’d faced. Small rivers of water from the recent rainy season (we’re still in the end of it) had carved many large gullies in the “road.” “Can you walk?” Jong asked. I’m so thrilled that I actually got this exchange on video! “Walk?” I asked, incredulous. “It’s too heavy for two of you to go up this hill. You need to get off,” Jong explained. Oh, NOW he’s concerned about safety!

“Where are we going and do we have much farther to get there?” I was re-evaluating the situation, ready to turn back at this point. “We’re going to a Lahu village for lunch,” Jong said matter-of-factly. The Lahu are one of the Thai hill tribes. “Yes, it’s still far.” He clearly saw nothing abnormal about the situation.

I wanted to meet the Lahu, but was beginning to doubt we’d get there in one piece. I had lost all confidence in Jong as a guide and wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if he asked us next to cross a deep canyon that had as its only “bridge” a single rope that we should dangle from by our hands, Indiana Jones style. Steve was determined, however. We’d already come this far. He was not about to turn back without “defeating” this road. So I got off the bike and video’d both guys heading up this tricky stretch. Jong slipped a few times but made it. Steve wasn’t so lucky. I stopped my video short to hurry up the hill and assist him pulling the bike out of one of the large gullies. We pushed the bike up the hill together to comparatively safer ground and both hopped back on.

Lahu village

We fell over on our motorbike a few more times on our way to the Lahu village. Jong crashed a couple times more than we did. Steve burned his foot really badly on the exhaust during one of our spills and immediately got an ugly blister that plagued him for our remaining time in Chiang Rai. I nicked the exhaust once, but apparently reacted quickly enough that it didn’t really burn my leg too badly. Cowardly cross-roader that I am, I learned how to launch myself off the back of the bike quickly so that I could easily bail in the face of danger. So much for solidarity.

We faced several more hills that I had to climb on foot. A couple times I rode small stretches on the back of Jong’s bike … who crashed with me too. Amazingly, only Jong got really hurt that day. He fell hard against a tree trunk during one of his crashes and really banged his neck, aggravating a previous injury.

Relieved doesn’t begin to describe how I felt when we finally reached the Lahu village. I was awed by the views, and by the small size of the village (probably no more than 100 people lived there) although not so much by the people. We sat in the open air “living room” of what we learned was the village chief’s hut and tried to engage with the villagers gathered there. Other than trying to sell us their wares (hand embroidered bags and water bottle holders), the Lahus pretty much ignored us. One even declined Jong’s request to guide us on foot for pay to a nearby waterfall. Very disappointing.

the chief's "clothesline"

Many of the hilltribes dress in modern clothes these days. We were told at the Hilltribe Museum in Chiang Rai that many of their traditional costumes, which can take up to a year to make, have been bought by visiting tourists as souvenirs. Rather than replace them, the hill tribe people just buy modern ready-made clothes. This was true of this particular village whose members were decked out in stained t-shirts and sweat pants. The chief’s wife was dressed up more than most though. She wandered around in a lace bra, an item that I’m sure was considered by all the villagers to be a rare and coveted commodity. 

There wasn’t a restaurant in the Lahu village. Jong just went to the village shop and bought some packaged ramen noodles and eggs and cooked them for us. Inside the chief’s two-room bamboo house, a small area in the floor about 3 feet square had been segregated as the kitchen. On the little spot in the floor, there was a fire burning where Jong boiled water to cook our noodles. Our eggs were “cooked” in our soup.

Steve enjoying a warm beer

Drink choices were warm beer or Coke. After the nerve-frying drive up, we both went for the warm beer option. We paid twice as much for our warm-beer-and-packaged-ramen-noodle lunch as we would have back in town, but weren’t bothered as we figured we had probably just fed the entire village with our $5.  We would have felt even better if they’d had more to do with us.

We enjoyed playing with a tiny cat and her kitten - the only village members who would engage with us - as we kicked back and took in the views. I was astounded to see the “grocery man” arrive on a motorbike delivering the weekly food supplies to the villagers. He had a large styrofoam cooler strapped to the back of his motorbike and two beyond-bulging bags of produce on either side of his bike. Despite the incredible cargo, his bike wasn’t covered in mud as ours and Jong’s were from the many slips and spills. Had he really made it all the way to the top of this mountain over those tricky, muddy, wet slippery roads without falling once? Incredible! 

 Too soon, Jong announced it was time to go if we wanted to see a waterfall and hot springs on the way home. I was really hoping that there was a paved road lurking on the other side of the village and that our motorcross ride up was just a cruel joke, but I knew better. Down the mountain on muddy slippery slopes scared me more than up. Had these villagers been more friendly, I might have been tempted to trade the chief’s wife a bra to let me stay until rainy season ended completely and the “roads” dried up. Nothing doing.

The "grocery guy" beat us down the mountain so I had a chance to photograph him loading up again.

I’ve read that one definition of adventure is an experience gone terribly awry that you manage to survive to tell about afterwards. This was that kind of adventure. I gritted my teeth, hopped on the back of our bike, said another of many prayers offered during the day and renewed my “propel off quickly” position. I was pleasantly surprised to find that going down the mountain was actually much easier than going up. Both bikes were accident free all the way.

view of a tea plantation

On the way to the waterfall, we drove up mountain passes so steep that, even though they were paved, several times I had to get off the bike and walk up … it just couldn’t carry two of us. We also drove through some lovely tea plantations. Just before we arrived at the waterfall, Jong stopped us on a dirt road and excused himself to go visit another friend for five minutes. Steve and I are obviously laid back tourists. Mai pen rai. Jong’s random moment gave me the opportunity to photograph some of the gorgeous hillside tea plantations and to observe and video some local boys practicing their kickboxing and other martial arts on each other. 

When he returned, Jong guided us to the base of the forest trail up to the waterfall, but for some reason didn’t go any farther. We’d become accustomed to guiding ourselves through the day so we trekked on up alone. We laughed to ourselves as we passed a park employee sweeping the leaves off of the dirt path in the middle of the jungle forest leading to the waterfall. Only in Thailand.  

Jong struck gold with the waterfalls which were stunning

The falls were gorgeous and well worth the climb. Jong had told us we could swim at the waterfall but to be careful because the rocks were very slippery. He didn’t say anything about the ladder. Steve was halfway down the bamboo ladder leading to the pool of the falls when it broke and he was dumped unceremoniously at the bottom. Bummer. It was at least a fifteen foot climb back up with no obvious toe holds. We both figured he might as well as least enjoy the water while he was down there.

The pool was small and there didn’t appear to be anything that would keep him from getting washed down the mountain at the pool’s edge so he wisely decided to forego a swim and just rinse the mud off his feet from the earlier motor-cross adventure. I don’t think he could have gotten back up on his own. I grabbed onto a tree to keep from falling and pulled him up with my free hand.

We were surprised to run into two other people coming down the mountain. They told us there were two more falls above and advised us that the trail to the top one was “dodgy” and hadn’t been climbed in a while. We continued our climb up to the second falls. Also very pretty. We carefully crossed the somewhat rickety bamboo bridge, remembering the broken ladder, ready to head up to the third falls. The bridge ended at a sheer cliff wall. Without rock climbing gear, we couldn’t imagine how anyone could climb it. Dodgy? It seemed to us to be completely impassable. We decided to quit while we were ahead in the day’s adventures.

personal hotsprings tub

We met up with Jong again and motored on. It was kind of a shock when we pulled back onto real paved roads. It felt like we were driving on velvet compared to the bumpy treacherous muddy paths we’d spent most of the day on. We arrived at the hot springs five minutes before they closed. Apparently the rule was that as long as you were there by 5:00 closing time, you could stay until 6:00. My body was bruised (not as bad as the guys’) and my nerves a bit frazzled so I was really looking forward to a hot soak. This being Jong’s tour, however, it was probably destiny that the large public pool was being drained for cleaning. Luckily, they had some private rooms that basically had personal hot tubs with water from the hot springs. It wasn’t exactly the same as swimming around, but I really appreciated the nice, hot relaxing soak. 

Before we left the hot springs grounds, Jong began lobbying to take us on a different tour the next day. We just laughed and smiled. “I think we’ll do our own thing tomorrow, Jong” we told him, not remotely interested in another one of his misadventures. One day of “random” was enough.

To see a video of our off-road adventures and other aspects of our crazy day, click here.

Additional photos for this and other blog entries can be found on the “Photos of Her Adventure” page of this blog.

Fourteen days into my alotted six weeks in Thailand and it has yet to become the “Land of Smiles” for me.  I feel I need to take some responsibility for this, however, so I have decided to do two things:  cease the constant comparisons to Bali and learn to speak some Thai.  This morning, rather than leaving Chiang Rai for Pai as I had planned, I did a complete about-face and enrolled in an intensive two-day/ eight hour Thai language course.  I’m studying with a woman named Wanlapa who promises I can speak Thai after 6 hours of lessons.  Of course we both know that I won’t be speaking fluently … that’s what the extra two hours are for.  Kidding.

I realize that I can’t make Thailand into Bali … nor should I try.  Thailand has its own charms and unique personality that I look forward to knowing.  But I think a big part of the reason Bali opened up to me and showed me her magic is that I took the time to learn some Indonesian before I arrived and made the effort to use it once I was there.  I’m hoping that Thailand is the same and that being able to say sewatdee ka (hello) with all the right tones will be the equivalent of saying “open sesame.” 

The Thai language has 44 consonents and fifteen vowels that can be combined in 32 different ways.  Additionally, one can say the same word with five different tones and have five different meanings.  For example, “mai” can mean “no,” “mile,” “new,” “silk,” or “correct?” depending on whether your tone is rising, falling, flat or a combination of rising/falling (marked with ˆ) or falling/rising (marked with ˇ).  If you’re not careful with your tones, while attempting to tell someone “come here,” you can instead call them a horse or a dog.  I couldn’t imagine how Wanlapa could have me speaking this incredibly complex language in six hours, yet after two, I can say, “Hello, my name is Beverly.  I am American. How are you? I am fine. Nice to meet you. This is a book. Is that a pen?  Excuse me.  Thank you.  You’re welcome.”  I also learned to count to one hundred.  Granted, I can’t do the majority of this without a lot of pauses and thinking at this point. However, I’m optimistic … and determined. Open sesame, Thailand.  

map of Thailand

(written September 30) I’ve been in Thailand for one week now.  I still have a hole in my heart for Bali and am not finding much to fill it thus far in “the Land of Smiles.”  I appreciated the irony of the grimacing, unsmiling immigration officials sitting immediately underneath the sign, “Welcome to the Land of Smiles” when I landed in Bangkok, hoping that wasn’t indicative of the types of smiles for which the land was famous. 

To date, I’ve spent all my time in Chiang Mai, aka “the Rose of the North,” the city I had anticipated would be my “Thai home base.”  Travel is about learning and one thing I learned about myself from my time in Bali is that I prefer spending most of my travel time in smaller locales that are off the beaten path.  The fewer tourists that make their way there, the better as far as I’m concerned. The locals in such places are more open to a genuine interaction which I find pleasing.  I also like watching the chickens, pigs and other animals that are more prevalent in rural areas.

The litmus test I’ve found myself using recently is my hometown of Paducah, Kentucky.  If it’s larger than “little ol’ Paducah,” then it’s too big.  So Chiang Mai, with its international airport and 15 story buildings, clearly didn’t fit the bill. As I write, I’m on a (very bouncy) bus on my way to Chiang Rai, the center of the Golden Triangle border region of Thailand, Laos and Myanmar (Burma).  Chiang Rai, populaton 62,000, may also be bigger than what I’m looking for.  It does have an airport afterall.  But then again, so does Paducah. I hear that the motorbiking around Chiang Rai is fabulous so for that reason alone I’m willing to give it a shot.

food market in Chiang Mai

Despite Chiang Mai not being the perfect fit I had anticipated, I still found touches of the interesting there. Two nights in a row, on my motorbike drive to my hotel at 1:00 am, I saw a man walking his elephant home … right down the main street in downtown Chiang Mai!  I’ve enjoyed the different sights of tuk-tuks (three-wheeled motorized taxis) and songthaew (modified pick up trucks with two benches in the back which are less expensive than taxis but aren’t quite public buses).  

tuk tuk

The occasional loudspeaker-equipped pickup truck drives through the city center blaring what I assume is an advert for either a political candidate or a business.  This morning I saw a similarly equipped pickup truck loaded up in back with a few monks and a shrine. People were approaching the back of the truck in droves receiving blessings from the monks who seemed to be reciting prayers over the loudspeaker.  Who knew that the Buddhists were into evangelization?

Shopping in Chiang Mai beats that in Bali hands down. The Night Bazaar, which is open until about midnight each night, has all kinds of fantastic wares that make me want to buy a house just so I can decorate it with these beautiful silks, woodenwares and interesting lights.  Unfortunately, I don’t have a house at the moment and my backpack is already bulging at the seems.  I had a blast though grazing through the “food court” portion of the Sunday Market, marveling at all the interesting new sights and smells. Although I didn’t mind passing on the fried crickets and paper thin fried squid-on-a-stick, I regretted that I didn’t have more room in my tummy for many other things.  

fried crickets and shrimp

I’ve had some interesting experiences in and around Chiang Mai.  I took a cooking class at the famous Chiang Mai Thai Cookery School one day.  The next day, I went with a British friend I met in the cooking class up to Wat Doi Suthep, the most important temple in Chiang Mai that sits at the top of a large hill.  I felt like we were playing Laurel and Hardy’s “Who’s on First” in planning the trip.  I would say something about the wat and Steve would say “What?” “The Wat.” I answered. “What?” he said in all seriousness, not realizing that the Thai word for temple is wat. 

On another day, I spent an hour playing with tigers.  A very new and touristy operation called Tiger Kingdom has set up shop about 15 km north of Chiang Mai. They have three groups of tigers, 2 months, 5 months and 11 months, that customers can get in a cage and play with for 20 minutes each at the amazingly low cost of 500 Baht per age group.  One can play with all three age groups for 1,000 Baht which is about $30.  A few months ago, I went swimming with dolphins and sea lions in Islamorada, Florida for 30 minutes and paid $250!

me with an 11 month old tiger

Pushing my monkey bite experience to the back of my mind, I hurried up to Tiger Kingdom to add “roughousing with tigers” to my list of Southeast Asian experiences.  First I played with the 5 month old “babies” … or attempted to.  There were four of them in the cage. One greeted me exuberantly when I entered, bounding up to me and smacking me playfully on the ankle with his softball-sized paw before running off to jump in the concrete pond (a real concrete pond; not the kind that Ellie and Jethro had).  A five month old tiger is about the size of a medium dog.  I would guess they weighed about 50-60 pounds.  Luckily, he kept his claws retracted while extending the invitation to play. Other than occasionally playing tug of war with a palm branch though, that was the extent of my actual play with this age group.  The four tigers cubs were so engrossed in playing with each other that I was content to just stand nearby and watch.  

me with a 2 month old tiger

Next, I played with the two month old cubs which TIger Kingdom called “newborns.”  They were the size of small dogs, maybe weighing about 30 pounds.  I had obviously caught them at naptime as four of the five of them just snoozed in the corner of the room.  I enticed the fifth one to play though with the cardboard core from a roll of toilet paper.  God, I love an easy tiger.

It was inevitable, of course, that I would be bitten.  Tigers bite when playing just like domesticated cats and dogs do.  Thankfully, the bites came from the little guys and, like playful dogs and cats, they weren’t going for blood; just a playful nip.  I have to admit though that “playful nip” wasn’t what came to mind when it happened though.  “Ouch that hurt!” was what I said … amazing how knowing you’re on video can temper what you really want to say.  They didn’t break the skin, but I did end up with bruises the next day … bruises I loved to show off.  Afterall, how often can you answer “tiger bite” when someone asks you how you picked up a bruise?  The baby play bites also gave me perspective on what a big tiger “play” bite would be feel like and even more insight into what a big tiger “I’m going to eat you” bite would feel like.  Some experiences I’m content to imagine.

me with a 5 month old tiger

After my time was up with the babies, I moved on to the big boys.  They were … well … tiger size.  Remembering how strong the 5 month old paw swat and the 2 month old play bites were, I was not disappointed in the least to find the big beasts snoozing and almost completely oblivious to my petting.  I rubbed big tiger backs and tummies and even used them as pillows (at the encouragement of the tiger’s supervisor) and, for the most part, drew no more interest than a stretch and a yawn.  The big guys were actually pretty boring … but I didn’t mind it that way.  The biggest one, Gil, sat up long enough to give me a good photo of his super large head in the foreground and little me hanging out by his rump.  

From my visit with the tigers, I had another discovery … I’m allergic to tigers. I didn’t think about it ahead of time, but it didn’t surprise me because I’m allergic to domestic house cats too … but that doesn’t stop me from playing mama to 3 and loving on all the others I can.  I sneezed most of the way home on my motorbike (tough to drive a bike when you’re sneezing!) and struggled every bit of the way not to rub my itching eyes as I knew they would puff up and turn bright red.  Hooray for antihisitimine!

During a little break from my allergy fits, I pulled over to the side of the road to admire an impressive array of unusually shaped knives that a woman was selling.  “Can I take a photo?” I asked her.  “Why do you want a picture?” she retorted. (Oh how I miss the Balinese how would often ASK me to take their pictures and thank me for doing so!)  “Because we don’t have knives like this in my country so it’s interesting to me,” I told her sincerely.  She shocked me with her reply: “Your country is stupid!”

an interesting array of knives

Having endured countless negative comments during this trip about my country and my countrymen, her words stung … until I realized that she had absolutely no idea where I was from.  She must have realized this at the same time because she asked, “Where are you from?” “Switzerland,” I answered without missing a beat.  They’re overdue for some bashing. 

To see a video of the Thai food stalls, click here.

I’m currently working on a video of me with the tigers but have run into a software issue with my laptop. Stay tuned…

Banjar is a small laid back village whose primary attraction is a hotsprings that was discovered and developed by the Japanese occupying force stationed there during World War II.  Juha and I enjoyed the hotsprings in the morning where we had a great time getting in water fights with the local kids.  We were losing badly, but we attributed that to being outnumbered about 10 to 2.  Juha recruited a few of the locals to our side, an impressive act of diplomacy, but we lost nonetheless.  

The hotsprings were relaxing and fun, but the highlight of Banjar for me was actually stumbling upon a traveling fair that had come to town. My brother John had a bad experience with a fair that came to our hometown when we were kids.  They basically sucked away all his money in about 20 minutes … as do fairs in most places.  I was convinced, however, that this fair would have been great therapy for him.  It only cost $0.50 to get in (I’m sure the locals got an even better price) and even after eating, drinking and playing our way through the fair, we still hadn’t spent $5.

fair food

Most of the games and rides are the same kind of thing that I’ve seen at fairs at home:  the ring toss game, the ferris wheel, little train that circles the grounds.  There were of course some decided differences as well - particularly in the food department.  While Juha played it safe, I went out on a limb with an avocado shake (yummy) and a grape jelly drink … that actually had the consistency of jelly mixed with liquid.  Weird.  Another difference I noticed was the distinct absence of stuffed animals as game prizes.  Instead, the prizes were practical items.  In one ring toss game that Juha won, the prizes seemed to be limited to soap and cigarettes.  We must not have understood the rules, however, because he was awarded no prize at all.  Bummer.  We were almost out of soap.  In a game that I won, I was awarded a small package of laundry detergent.  I had just had all my laundry cleaned so I gifted it to one of the kids standing nearby … which I regretted the next day when Juha wore his new favorite shirt for the 4th day in a row (and day 3 consisted of a hot sweaty hike).  Big prizes were oscillating fans and motorbike helmets.  

jelly drink from the fair

 As Juha and I wandered around the fair, we were again like Disney characters at Disney World.  Everyone spoke to us, shook our hand, photographed us.  One little girl surprised me when she took my hand, I thought to shake it.  Instead, she kissed my hand and said “I love you.”  Talk about feeling welcome!

To see video of the fair, click here.

Since I’m obviously still quite behind in my writing, I’ll just give you the highlights of the the next few days.  From Banjar, we drove a short distance to Lovina where we took a pre-dawn ride out into the ocean in canoe size boats with spider legs to try to see some dolphin pods.  We were rewarded after 3 hours of boating, but most of the rest of the time was just a bumpy, cold, wet ride.

In an oddly surreal moment, we stopped at the side of the road for a soda and snack to take a break from the ride. After serving us, the woman who owned the shop and her five kids came to the front of the shop and sat on a step right by our table and literally just stared at us while we ate and drank.  It was such a comical scene, I had to make a video of it (of course!).  Click here  to share our surreal experience. 

Tianyar "cremation" ceremony

On our way to Amed, we passed through Tianyar, another small village, where some kind of ceremony was going on.  About 20 villagers were holding sticks that had white t-shirts and stuffed white sheets that resembled heads.  I’d never seen or read about anything like this so of course we doubled back around to observe.  I got out both of my cameras and starting videoing/shooting away.  “You’re photographing all this but do you know what it means?” someone laughingly asked me.  A young handsome Balinese man named Kadek introduced himself.  He explained that this was a cremation ceremony.  I’ve come to realize in my time on Bali that there are a multitude of aspects and phases of cremation and, although I’m certain they each have distinctive names in Balinese, all of them are described to us tourists as “a cremation ceremony.”  I watched and listened, fascinated.  When the villagers stood up and started their procession through the streets, I was ready to pick up and follow.  Sensible Juha, however, pointed out that we still had a drive ahead of us in order to get to Amed before dark so I reluctantly left the ceremony and we continued on our journey, but not before accepting Kadek’s invitation to return the next day to see the continuation of the ceremony.  To see a video of this interesting ceremony (there is no cremation), click here.

Juha and I motored on to Amed where my favorite group of Balinese guys welcomed us warmly. We enjoyed dinner, drinks and music with them and then went out to a local club to hear some live music. It felt great to be back in Amed!

Tianyar "cremation" ceremony

The next morning, Juha headed back to Denpasar to return his back and head back to Finland while I stayed on (and on and on) in Amed.  I did take a few little roadtrips.  I went back to Tianyar to see the rest of the ceremony from the day before.  It turns out, it was a conglomeration of ceremonies.  They had actually had a cremation that morning (and I missed it! Drat!), but while they had the priest in town, they also had 2 other ceremonies that are rites of passage for the Balinese:  tooth filing ceremonies and 3 month ground-touching ceremonies. 

tooth filing ceremony

The Balinese believe that when babies are born, they are like Gods.  As the ground is a dirty place, babies are not permitted to touch the ground for the first 3 months of their lives.  As they get older, they are less and less God-like so at 3 months old, the Balinese hold a ceremony called penyambutan where the baby’s feet touch the ground for the first time.  Kadek told me that his village couldn’t afford a priest for a long time so the villagers were economizing and having a mass ceremony as is becoming the more common custom these days.  Although the ceremony had also apparently taken place that morning before my arrival (double drat!) I noticed that many of the children dressed in yellow and white for the ceremony were 1 year and 2 years old … well beyond 3 months.  Kadek told me they were permitted to touch the ground after 3 months old (I couldn’t imagine carrying a child for 2 years!), but that they just hadn’t had an actual ceremony.  This still seems a bit unusual to me so perhaps something got lost in translation.

I did, however, get to observe tooth-filing ceremonies that were also being performed en masse to save money.  The tooth filing ceremony is a rite of passage for an adolescent Balinese into adulthood.  During the ceremony, the young Balinese bites onto a piece of sugar cane while a priest uses a small hammer and a file to file a bit of the person’s teeth.  The Balinese believe the ceremony helps the youth to rid him or herself of some invisible forces of evil associated with the teeth.

beachside post-cremation ceremony

To see a video of the tooth filing ceremony, click here.

I left Tianyar late in the afternoon and headed back to Amed where the guys were giving me a Balinese cooking lesson:  pepes ikan - steamed fish in banana leaves.  It seems that the secret is in the sauce and that’s where we spent most of our time.  They ground about 10 ingredients together with mortar and pestle.  I’m thinking I’ll use a blender when I attempt to recreate this one at home.

You can see my pepes ikan cooking lesson by clicking here.

In another road trip from Amed, I met Wisnu, the great-grandson from the cremation ceremony 2 weeks before.  We met in Candidasa, a lovely village that used to be a hot tourist destination for diving and snorkeling … until people started harvesting the coral from the ocean to use in their houses.  With the coral destruction, the fish habitat was destroyed (and thus the snorkeling and diving attractions) and massive beach erosion took place so now very few tourists come to Candidasa.  Even Wisnu and I only stayed there for 15 minutes before heading on to scope out other interesting places.  

a symbol used in the post-cremation ceremony

In the course of our drive, we came across some post-cremation ceremonies taking place on a beach.  Small groups of people paraded down to the beach and placed what looked like a sekah (soul representation) in the water.  Each group also released a live duck and chicken into the water, presumably as a symbolic sacrifice to the gods, which was promptly chased down and retrieved by some local kids … for eating?  

After the ceremonies, Wisnu took me to see Besakih, considered the holiest temple on the island of Bali. It’s actually a group of many temples inside one temple grounds.  It was lovely.  

Ujung water palace

My last road trip from Amed consisted of viewing two waterpalaces, Tirta Gangga which I had tried to see unsuccessfully twice before and Ujung, both built by the same king and an unbelievable drive on some small winding mountainous roads that hugged the coastline through teeny tiny villages that were way off the tourist map.  

Tirta Ganga bathers

Ujung water palace

salt production in Amed

Other than that, I spent my last 10 days in Bali happily “holed up” in Amed, hanging out with my friends. The day before I left, Shark and Wayan made me a necklace entirely out of frangipani flowers. To see them making it, click here.

In a nutshell, you’re now caught up on my time in Bali.  Shall we move on to Thailand?  

Additional photos for this and other blog entries can be found on the “Photos of Her Adventure” page of this blog.