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.