Katie's closing thoughts

On Thursday when we arrived in Bangkok and got in the van with Martina and her two friends from Vienna, the first thing we mentioned (and actually what we raved about the most) was the Sukhothai aiport and flight. After all we had explored and ventured through, our minds could not leave that last luxurious experience (though Mom was definitely praising more than I thought neccesary). What about our homestay or the fabulous new foods we had or the fabrics we fell in love with or the crazy Thai's we met the past two weeks? Was all that meaningless now?

No, of course not. In fact, it was because of what all we had been through that we were able to appreciate the flight and all its amenities. I would never trade those crowded bus rides, long train trips, meals with the locals (especially those with Supijit), nights in the guesthouses, and all those moments of feeling lost, tired, and frustrated for comfortable, easy, and clean transportation and accommodations. It's not that I want to be uncomfortable or lost but I want to learn and explore a culture, and I have to do that by emerging myself within it and that requires getting out of my comfort zone. I did not come to Thailand simply to be pampered (though I have gotten plenty of it and I'm not complaining) because I could do that without having to travel 24 hours on a plane to get it.


This trip has been my first time in a "developing country" where I have first-handedly seen villages where people still make crafts and grow food the same way that their ancestors for generations have. I love seeing this but at the same time it makes me think a lot about this type of society. It's called "developing" because it is not what is supposed to be and needs changing. I personally struggle with this because it thrills me to see cultures that are still unique and not manipulated by a corporate matrix. But I always wonder what the people actually want. Do they really want what the "developed" world has or are they just brainwashed to think that is what they want and need?


Yes, I live in a "developed" country where I am beyond privileged to have the life I want, but does that mean that in order to have the life you want you must live in a society like I live in? I would argue definitely not and that Americans who are truly satisfied with their life are a minority. While I can't prove this, it seems evident that people always want something they don't have that they think would make their life better. When does it stop? If people aren't satisfied there then why should other societies seek that way of life? And how can you determine if what works in one part of the world will automatically apply somewhere else? and how can you possibly know what another culture- something foreign and so different from your society- could possibly want or need?

Rice is a very important part of Thai (and Asian, for that matter) culture. Central Thailand is considered the rice bowl of the world accounting for 30% of global exports and claims to be the original site of the first rice plants. Thais are very serious about their rice having it at least three times a day. As we traveled through rural areas of Thailand, much of what we saw was rice fields, and there was never a time that I didn’t see someone out working in the field. I personally can’t say that I would want to be bending over 12 hours a day planting rice, but there is something very special about the intense human involvement and time that the Thai’s put into growing, harvesting, refining, and cooking rice. I can appreciate this because we don’t have that in our culture. First of all, we don’t have a national food staple. The closest we have is corn, but most of the corn is not eaten as corn but processed into more things than I want to know about. Secondly, corn (or any other staple such as wheat) has little or no human connection. It is all done by machine. Many of those “farmers” will not walk the field, study the soil, anticipate the weather, or even taste the crop. They simply sit back and let the machine roll. Many people would look at the rice fields here and say if only they had machines people would be better off and they could produce more rice at a cheaper cost. But that is the problem with the “developed” world- people get left out. The human face is lost to the consumer’s pocket.

One of my favorite things that I observed about Thai culture was the way they did fast food. (Yes, they had fast food but not anything like what is in the States). Food joints and snack stalls line the streets all day long filled with freshly prepared dishes of all sorts. Most of the "restaurants" come out of people's homes, or at least the food is prepared at home and then brought to a street vendor. Some people just set up a table outside their door having hot rice and fried fish ready for any passerbys. It's just like the old fashioned lemonade stand- sell what you can make and what people want at a price that is fair for everyone. I don't know any numbers but I would estimate that a large portion of the small town population is occupied in the food business. And since Thai's seem to eat all the time and enjoy one another's company at the table it is much more than just a business

But what if one day the food joints and snacks stalls that line the streets and provide independent jobs for people will one day be replaced by fast food chains and if all those delicious freshly made tropical fruit juices are outrun by soda drinks and bottled, preserved juices (that aren't really made from fruit) or if the street side tailors are outsized by the incoming textile factories or if the rice fields are managed by John Deeres? Not only will many people lose their jobs and way of life, but even worse a culture will be lost.

That is why I wanted to come to Thailand and live with a Thai family because I could see and experience an authentic livelihood at work (of course, there are other countries that I could go to but Thailand also has my Aunt, Uncle, and two cousins!). Despite the authenticity, I was shocked at how much Western influence there was here- in clothing, food, brands, ideals, looks, etc. (By the way, I am mostly referring to the non-Bangkok areas of Thailand that we visited- Bangkok is very developed and westernized in my view but still has some of the unique Thai cultural aspects). And not everything I saw about this way of life was good. The towns were dirty, polluted, and smelly. They were overrun with stray dogs and shops filled with only junk. They used motorbikes extensively in places that were just right for biking and walking. There was always a TV on wherever we went- people were glued. There are not yet signs of the “epidemic” but they are already promoting after school aerobics classes and dance video games for those too sedentary kids. I even saw an advertisement for a weight loss program targeting Asian women (the “before” picture outdid many of the American “after” pictures). Plastic surgery is widely available (almost as much as Thai massages) promoting the image of the ideal white female model as what every woman should want to look like (since when do Asian females have bad figures?)

I know I have probably taken this much too far, but this is just a sample of my thoughts that arise as I look at this world. As a student in International Agriculture Development, I constantly face these predicaments. What is development after all and what should our (those with money and education) do about it? What is our responsibility and what are the boundaries? What is the goal of development, globalization, foreign aid? Is it to create a world of peace, joy, and justice or is it a selfish, political, economical ploy? And then I think where do I fit in with all of this?

I look forward to returning to school and my studies so that I can apply what I have learned through my experiences in this short time in Thailand. It's just a beginning for me but it was a great one. I am so grateful to have a mother that I can travel with so easily and can share similar interests with. This will not be our last. Stay tuned for future adventures and thank you for reading this far.

A tribute to our family in Bangkok!

Our trip ended in Bangkok—once again at the home of my brother Jim, his wife Martina and their sons Tom and Paul. They have been incredibly wonderful and we grately appreciate their generous hospitality and letting us come into their life. We have loved being with them and have some pictures to show their life in Thailand and our time together.

A surprise in Sukhothai

We read about the Sukhothai Organic Agricultural Project and wanted to see it. It was started by a 75 year-old woman named Vanli Prasarttong-osoth who has a food nutrition degree from a U.S. university and started out as an elementary school teacher. Her husband owns the Bangkok airways so when they bought the land for the airport in Sukhothai, they developed an agricultural experiment in the rice fields adjacent to the small airport. They developed three kinds of rice, all organic, but each designed for nutritional content-- brown, black and red.

We stopped by the Sukhothai Heritage Resort to taste the rice and then headed to the agricultural station, shown in the pictures.

The trip back on Bangkok Airways was as opposite of our trip to Sukhothai as you can get (see Getting There and Around). The attendents place a orchid corsage on every passenger. The small check-in takes so little time, that you can avail yourself of one of the complimentary bicycles to ride around the grounds and see the weaving and cermics demonstrations or just settle in the outdoor waiting area and partake of the complimentary fruits, drinks and snacks while reading one of the numerous free magazines or newspapers.

As we rode in an open-air van to the plane, a staff of several attendents stood and bowed bon voyage. The whole runway is landscaped in flowers and the flight was the smoothest ever, of course, with complimentary lunch and drinks.

If you are ever in the area--be sure to check it out--and while you are there you can see the Sukhothai historical park ( the capital before Bangkok) and the Sri Satchanalai Heritage site (ancient ruins of an early Thai city)--two of the most historical sites in Thailand. Here is an old wat at the Sri Satchanalai site. We rode our bikes there through a nice village with antiques and other various crafts and offerings.

Getting There and Around

My cousins Franklin and Tresa McCallie once bragged that they took buses in Beijing. They spoke about the advantage of “traveling with the people” as a way of getting to know the country. Since Franklin is almost as tall as Yao Ming, he also attracted a lot of attention. Well, Franklin and Tresa, Katie and I have a challenge for you.

Ok, you start in Vientiane, Laos, and you have to get to Sukhothai, Thailand, which is on the other side of the country in one day—by ordinary conveyance. This is a challenge for The Amazing Race.

First you have to get to the border and cross the Mekong River, going through customs on the Thailand side. Oh, I forgot to tell you that you have to stop in Nong Khai and pick up the bags and stuff you left there. So now you have 6 bags between you because you added a bag of fabric in Laos and Supijit gave you a bag of dried Kaffir lime leaves.

The bus leaves Nong Khai every hour. It goes as far as Udon Thani, about two hours away. The driver pulls over and lets everyone out, oh well, on the side of the road somewhere. You ask “Sukhothai?” and the driver nods and points.

Beware the pointing finger!

It looks like he is pointing across the street. But there is clearly no bus terminal across the street. You ask someone else,” Sukhothai?” You never know for sure what you are saying and what they are hearing. A tuk-tuk driver acts like he knows what you need and takes all your bags and off you go.

Passing numerous lotus ponds and rice fields, he drops you off at a bus terminal and leaves. Again, you ask “Sukhothai?” More nods and selling of tickets and a pointing finger over there. You sit and wait.

On the way to the bathroom, you discover that the man taking up 3 baht for the toilet speaks English and tells you that the bus leaves in two hours and you are sitting in the wrong place—it’s over there—and he points.

The toilet isn't worth the 3 baht you gave him but you hope his English is. You move. A monk is sitting there, too, under a sign warning not to smoke.

The bus is not a Mercedes bus, but it has AC, curtains, a blanket, and water. You are in for a 6-7 hour ride over the mountains and through a national park. You are right under the TV which is playing the equivalent of Thai Country Music TV. At one point the bus is so full that people are standing in the aisle and someone is sitting on your arm rest. But you are ok with that because you are the one sitting in the seat.

Night comes. The CMT stops. The arm rest is free. Your water bottle is empty and you’ve eaten all of the boiled peanuts and sliced green mango you bought on the way.

At last, the bus comes to a terminal—it’s 11 pm. But you’re not in Sukhothai yet. It’s 60 kilometers away. You have a room in a guest house in Sukhothai waiting for you. It’s pouring rain, thunder and lightning. The next bus to Sukhothai leaves at 1 AM. There’s a taxi driver available who seems a little tipsy and doesn’t speak English. You read in Lonely Planet that there are hotels with “decent” rooms in this town that you know nothing of nor can you see where you are. People are shouting and telling you things in Thai because they can tell you don’t know anything and need their help, but of course they aren’t helping much at all.

What do you do?

Laos- a new territory

The book says to pronounce it “Wien-chang”—but no one seems to. Vientiane is the capitol of Laos just across the Mekong River from Nong Khai. The new Friendship Bridge makes it easy to go back and forth. Laos’ colonial past as part of French IndoChina is evidenced in the wide, tree-lined boulevards with circular intersections and fountains that no longer have water and are overgrown with moss and weeds.

Mom and I arrived in Vientiane a little before noon. It was a long morning getting across the border- much slower than we expected. To our good fortune, our taxi driver just happened to drop us off at a Scandinavian bakery. Alas, we finally got the long awaited pastry shop. After indulging in bread, butter, jam, cheese, and cappuccino we were ready to explore this new country. (Earlier reference--Lonely Planet described the French pastry shops which we failed to find, see Overnight Train to Ubon Ratchathani and Traveler's Nightmare.)

It didn’t take us long to realize that this was a special place- at least for our interests. There was one boutique after the next beautifully displaying both new and old silk and cotton scarves, wall hangings, bags, and much more almost all made from Laotian villagers. We were in the meca of fabric. (You can see above with our displayed purchases just how much we were enthralled. It was hard to resist it all.) Going from one store to the next always keeping the store clerks busy with opening every piece and showing us some of their finest, we never got bored. And when we were tired (which came easily with some many fabrics to look at) we just got a massage- that is a Lao massage, one of the best things that has ever happened to me. We soon learned that this was the best deal in town- for just one hour it cost $4, and this was no shabby massage- we got a special outfits, a shower, tea, and deluxe relaxation. And once again we found a nice little guesthouse to stay in.

Here is Mom enjoying a foot massage- one of the three we had in two days.

One thing we were not expecting in Laos was all the tourists. For the past week and a half we had been one of the few foreigners around always blantantly standing out. You would think after being surrounded by unfamiliarity we would embrace these fellow Westerners, but in fact it was the opposite. We observed that tourists rarely socialized with other foreigners, and we were no different. I have to admit I didn’t like being amongst all the tourists, but one benefit was the good restaurants. They had better cafes and sandwich shops than we can find in the States. We never saw one Lao restaurant, which was a shame for me. I was ready for street food again when we got back to Thailand.

Oh yeah, and if you ever go to Laos be sure to brush up on your basic math skills. Though they do take dollars and baht in many places, you will need to use some Kip and it does not come in small quantities. A meal will cost around 50,000 kip. And bargaining does not come easy, but it is well worth it to be prepared because they can get away with selling items at higher prices. With bargaining and converting between kip, dollars, and baht it is no wonder we needed a massage (at least that is what we told ourselves).

Democratic Convention in the morning

Although we got to see the Olympic ceremonies live at night, we have the opposite situation with the Democratic National Convention—it comes on live on CNN—in the morning while you are seeing it at night. The only problem is finding a TV with CNN. Almost impossible.

Most unexpected--one night in Vientaine, Laos, we went to a Japanese restaurant and the TV was on--I saw on the tape at the bottom of the screen that Obama had picked Joe Biden as his VP. It was CNN breaking news. We asked the owner if he could turn up the sound. He was delighted to have people watch it so we had a great sushi dinner and went back the next night to watch the closing ceremonies of the Olympics.

Then a couple days later we were in Sukhothai, Thailand—really small place. We went to have breakfast and the restaurant was closed. So the "tuk-tuk" driver took us somewhere else and dropped us off at a hole in the wall sort of place. I noticed a large screen TV and asked the owner if he had an English channel--he smiled and changed the channel and there was Michelle Obama giving her speech on CNN International! Katie is in the picture giving an iced tea toast as we watch the live speech—for breakfast.

But since that time we have not been able to see anything. It is so frustrating. Unable to find a TV with CNN, we went to an internet cafe and tried to go to CNN online, but couldn't down load the video. Besides, the noise was horrendous— teenagers use the cafe for computer games that are brutally violent and noisy like cars crashing and gangsters shooting each other.

We are now back in Bangkok at Jim and Martina's house where we were able to watch Obama’s acceptance speech this morning after breakfast.

This election affects the whole world. We saw on Thai TV one day that McCain was head in the polls by 5 percentage points. I don’t know how most people in Thailand feel, but a guy at the bus station who didn't speak English, when he learned we were from America, said, "Obama!" and held up two thumbs.

The Thai have their own political problems right now—a half million people have descended on Bangkok for a massive demonstration demanding the resignation of the top government leaders for corruption. The government has responded with an ultimatum to disperse.

Wat on every corner, monk on every sidewalk

I don’t think I’ve ever been in an actively Buddhist country before. In Japan, China, and Korea, Buddhism is part of the history. But in Thailand, Buddhism is alive and well and a part of everyday life. Katie mentioned earlier the opening assembly at school—everyday they start with the national anthem and then a Buddhist prayer. One day a Buddhist monk was the speaker at the opening assembly and met with smaller groups during the day.

We see monks in saffron robes, young and old, everywhere. And, of course, there’s a wat (Thai temple) on every corner.

We were told that women aren’t supposed to touch or may make eye contact with a monk, so we kept our distance. One day in Laos, a young monk came up to us and wanted to practice his English. He was at a monastery in Laos which offered meditation at 4:00 everyday for foreigners. That is where most of these pictures were taken—or on the riverwalk in Nong Khai.

There were about 12 people at the meditation, all foreigners. A monk and nun attended, but the meditation was led by a British woman. We sat on pillows- the same pillows we envied to have a few days before from the Isaan region- in a pavilion. She explained some basics of being silent, not following your thoughts, just letting them go and observing your breath. After about 15 minutes of sitting, she asked us to get up and do 20 minutes of walking meditation—we walked quietly and very slowly around the pavilion on our own. Then we returned to the pillows for 20 minutes of sitting again. About half way into it, the cicada began chirping loudly just like they do in Tennessee in the summer and then the monks somewhere closeby began chanting in a high pitched monotone which sounded a lot like the cicada in human voice.

Supijit’s house was just across from a Buddhist monastery. Boss took us through it one day. The monks keep a lot of dogs. Every afternoon about 4:00 the drum struck a beat. Boss said it was reminding people to come to something, but he forgot what it was.

The thing I think that I liked best about being a neighbor to a Buddhist monastery was the bell in the morning at 5:45 am (but not so much the one at 3 am).

The bell starts slowly, softly—one, then a few short rings, pause of several seconds, then another short series of rings, this time a little longer than the first, softly, slowly. It keeps going this way for awhile—a gradual awakening from sleep. It’s not a harsh honk or a jarring command, only a call to start your day—come, it says, join me in a new beginning: The sky is turning light, the roosters have already done crowing, and the birds are fluttering.

These communal time clocks are a part of village life. I miss the chimes of church. Something is lost when the communal markers of time are replaced with individual alarms. Even if we live our own individual routines, the communal time clocks make us aware that we all share in the passing of time and the welcoming of day.

Crazy Sculptures

We went to a scultpure garden that words can't quite describe. so here are some pictures to do what I can't do.

I was quite a trek to get there but well worth it.

We stayed in Nong Khai in a lovely guesthouse (http://www.mutmee.com/) and had a terrific time. The week before there was a serious flood in the city that covered our guesthouse, but luckily due to the Thai's hard work effort they were able to clean it up in time for our arrival. So we were still able to enjoy all they had to offer. You can see our hut behind Mom.

The city still had leftover mud from the flood on the riverwalk. You can see below a man cleaning up and shoveling mud back into the beautiful brown Mekong River.

Regional Textiles

The northeast region of Thailand is known for it hand woven cotton fabrics, and the area around KhamKuenKaew is famous for triangle pillows. Supijit’s mother has a cottage industry making the pillows. Her mother was out of town, so S. took us to another pillow workshop nearby. The colors of the fabrics are bright and the pillows come in many shapes and sizes.

Fabric has become a theme of our trip that we hadn’t expected. After leaving KKK we took a bus to Nong Khai in the extreme northeast edge of Thailand on the Mekong River. Here we found a rich variety of cottons and silks in the colors of traditional Thai and Laotian designs. Textiles, like food, come from the land and are reflective of the culture and industry of the people of the area.

A bridge over the Mekong now connects Laos and Thailand. The lure of “the other side” draws us—we will set out tomorrow to cross the bridge and see what we learn from Thailand’s neighbor. Someone told us that Vientiane has many French people living there again and consequently has French bakeries. We just can’t resist—those illusive pastry shops are beguiling us again.

Ok—cathching up on an unfinsihed story—when we first got to KhamKuenKaew—by the way, when Thai words are spelled in English, the spelling may change with every writer. It doesn’t seem to really matter to them which English letters are used so I won’t let it bother me either—we went to Supijit’s house to shower and change. She lives on the back of the school campus where she teaches. There are a few other houses there. Her two dogs greeted us, as well as the three cats crying for food.

S. and Katie headed off for the market on the motorcycle leaving me to shower. The bathroom is on the ground level and consists of a barrel of water to bathe and a smaller bucket of water for flushing the toilet. The toilet is “Asian style” which means it’s on the floor--you stand on the ceramic grid and squat—if you can. You pour a bowl of water to flush the toilet. And then you pour from a different bowl from the barrel for the shower. The water is unheated but the temperature is refreshingly cool for these really hot days. After soaping up, you bowl water to rinse off. I was in the throes of doing all of this with as much grace as I could muster when the dog started barking as if someone was coming to the front door—which, by the way, was left wide open. I panicked. Tried to hurry. Checked the lock on the bathroom door. Feared a neighbor coming over out of curiosity. Or a clever thief taking advantage of my helplessness. The dog ran around the house and back to the front door. I listened. No footsteps. I hoped the dog had chased whoever it was away. I dried off, dressed and began looking for a sink to brush my teeth. None in the bathroom. None in the kitchen. I went out the back and found the place where the water came in a clear plastic hose to a waist-high faucet. I wet my toothbrush there and had just begun to brush my teeth when Katie and S. arrived from the market. There I was--standing barefoot in the back yard with my toothbrush—looking like I had certainly made myself at home in their absence.

Over the next week, we became quite at home, learning many things with Supijit and her two children. Her 16-yr-old son is called “Boss,” a nickname his mother gave him. Her daughter YahYi is 14, and likes to watch TV and read books. Boss entertained us and Supijit took care of us and fed and taught us a great deal about traditional Thai, and even this region’s Isaan cooking. Katie has written about the food, but I just want to say how much I admired our host. She is divorced and wanted to live on her own, raise her children and support herself--not a common thing in Thailand and not an easy thing anywhere. She supports her family through teaching English at the high school and grows most of her own food, including the rice they eat.

The market

So I talked about food but did not mention the market. Basically the market was where everyone went for just about anything. it ran twice a day, morning and evening. Supijit went both times before breakfast and dinner to get what she needed for that meal. It was right down the road. I liked to go with her in the evenings. It was very different from any market I have experienced. It was mostly women selling stuff. They would put their stuff on a table and some of them would sit on the table behind the food or sit in a chair. Some tables were full of fruits, vegetables, and herbs and others would only have one thing, such as mushrooms.

My favorite moment at the market was when we bought fish. there was a woman with a small bucket of fish just caught from the local river. they were still alive swimming around bumping into each other. She picked one up, placed it on the cutting board, wacked its head with the side of a knife, and starting shaving off the scales sending fish "juice" right and left. She then cut the fish into three equal pieces, placed them in a bag, and handed it to us and we were off. That is when I decided I would eat fish while I was here. By the look of my face, Supijit could tell that that was not a normal experience for me. She asked, "Is that not how you get fish in the US?" "Um, not exactly. Actually, that would be illegal."

There is one thing for sure: there is no food safety inspector in Thailand. I don't say this with complaint. I have had no trouble or problem with the food. Many of the citizens would be without a job if there was such an inspection. There are food stalls, vendors, fruit stands, drink vendors just about every which way you look one after another. I dont know what you have to do to sell food, but I don't imagine it's much. Many people just cook out of their home and set a table on the road selling food to passerbys.

Oh yeah, one more thing for sure: Thais eat a lot of meat. There is not a food stall that doesn't have some sort of meat product. When we were traveling on the bus, people would hop on with these huge sticks with half a roasted chicken on it swaying it in your face and shouting something that I couldn't understand while I just sat there with my eyes closed shaking my head no. It is hard to be a vegetarian here, but I've had to be flexible. But it should be noted that there are many vegetarian dishes on menus and occasional vegetarian restaurants. I'm still learning how to say "no meat" in Thai. It's harder than you'd think.

Anyways, the market is fabulous. I definitely felt like an outsider when I was there but by there third day people were getting used to me. I loved getting fresh soy milk and fresh cut fruit (much of the fruit was pre cut because of the hard and volumious exteriors - like durian). there are pictures that can show more than I can say.

Our hosts for the homestay were absolutely wonderful and they taught us so much just from doing their everyday things. One of the things we enjoyed and learned about the most was the food. It seemed like at every moment Supijit was doing something to feed us: cooking in the kitchen, going to market, washing dishes, picking fruit, drying herbs and spices, etc. We for sure did not go hungry; in fact, we ate some of the best food we have ever had (at least for me!). Every meal was a treat and a new experience.

The eastern side of Thailand is known as the Isaan region, so much of what we ate was traditional Isaan cuisine. though I don't know the exact differences between Isaan and other Thai food, I can infer from what we had that there are many of the same spices and flavorings (lemongrass, garlic, keffir lime and leaves, fish sauce, red pepper, galangal...) but it seemed to be heavy on the fish (coming from close by rivers) and included sweet and savory dishes, such as a morning glory (type of green) that has soy sauce, garlic, pepper, fish sauce, and a fair amount of sugar. A very popular dish, especially in the Supijit's house, is papaya salad. She had at least twenty papaya trees in her yard supplying her with fruit all year round and enough to have almost everyday. All the papayas are green this time of year so we had lots of papaya salad- so yummy! I am thinking of ways to make it at home replacing the papaya with something like kholrabi or cucumber. It is basically the papaya shredded up with garlic, tomato, little eggplant, soy sauce, lime juice, red pepper, fish sauce (which I am not a big fan of, but I had to get over it bc it is used in just about everything. and I am eating fish since I have been here bc there is not much in way of high nutrient grains and legumes and it is completely legit) and it is all beaten together in a mortar and with a huge pestel. this device is used a lot for many things and they are found in abundance. Mom and I couldn't resist and bought the two pieces for a whopping 75 cents (all made by locals too).

Another traditional Isaan dish is a baby bamboo soup. This dish stands out in my mind as one of the tastiest and most unusual dishes we had. This is the season for bamboo shoots so we made a big pot of soup. I had never had fresh baby bamboo and when I told her that when we do have it comes in a can and is virtually flavorless she seemed a bit confused and sad for me. But this soup made up for all that. It was rather simple ingredients: lime leaves, lemongrass, red pepper, lots of sweet basil, and this other herb that is a shrubby spiny leaf from a tree, and of course lots of bamboo (and water). It was fabulous.

At every meal we had rice. Rice three times a day and all of it was grown by Supijit herself. She said that when most of the rice in Thailand was being grown with chemicals she realized that she had to do something for herself and her family. Farming is in her family background so she knew what to do. She bought some land and started growing her own rice. she has two fields- one small (enough to feed her family) and one big (to sell at market). While organic is becoming more popular in Thailand and there is more land being cultivated organically, most of the land is inundated with chemicals. Her field is right in the middle of all that. Therefore, all the insects and crabs come to her field making an even lower yield. Though it is the rainy season, it has hardly rained in the area. this has huge impacts on the rice because with out plenty of water the fields are dry and the rice will not survive.

One morning we went to the rice field early before the heat had set in. It was absolutely beautiful. this was my first time to see a rice paddy up close. It didn't actually look like much, just like tall grass. But was is amazing is the abundance of rice being grown. These fields are so expansive and cover so much of the country. The fields are not just rice either. though that is what is being grown, there are also big trees scattered across the fields. Supijit just recently planted banana and coconut trees around her field where she will soon build a hut to stay during the long days of the planting and harvesting season.

At this time of year, the rainy season, there is not much to be done on the fields. the morning we went we were just checking for insects. so even though we were WWOOFing, we didn't do much in the way of farming. Because of that, we were able to do so much more. The beauty of WWOOFing is the building of cross cultural friendships through living and working together. Now maybe not all WWOOFing experiences are about friendships, but I can attest that this one definitely was. We built a relationship not only from living together but also working together. She provided her home for us while teaching us about her culture and lifestyle, and in return we helped her by teaching her classes for a few days, editing some of her documents, helping her with her english, and by sharing our stories and world view. We also taught her how to compost in her garden! That was a proud moment. Mom taught her the "busy mama method"- dig a hole, burry the scraps, cover with straw/leaves and move on to the next. We got her a shovel and filled her first hole.

We shared every meal together. in the morning we would usually fried fish with curry paste or plain and of course rice (either steamed or sticky rice). omlettes were common with rice as well. lunch was always an assortment of dishes, some leftovers and some from other teachers. Soups were common. An interesting and tasty soup was made with a cinnamon, anise, and clove broth with hard boiled egg, dryed soy skin (i don't know what it is called but it is the top layer that is removed when soy milk is made and then dried in the sun), and soy meat. It was a very unusual combination but very satisfying. Chilli paste often accompanied meals. There are several ways to make the paste. The one Supijit made (enough to last a week) was fish based using leftover fish from dinner blended with lots of red pepper, garlic, onion, lime leaves, fish sauce, sugar, galangal. It is so yummy!

When I told her that we can't get many of the seasonings easily in the States, she insisted that we take some back with us. So we are now endowed with this huge bag of dried lime leaves and lemongrass which we picked from a neighbor's garden. This will be great for making the dishes when we get home.

One of the best things about staying with Supijit and her family was getting familiar with normal Thai foods that we would normally never venture to have. I am a venturous eater but going to a market or food stall where no english is spoken and the food is unfamiliar can be a little daunting. one of the my favorite things, which i have now had several times on my own, is green mango. That may not sound so strange but they sell it pre cut in these bags and it is whitish green and there is no way you could tell what it was without trying it. It is slightly sour, slightly sweet with a nice crunch. It comes with a salt/red pepper/sugar mix that you dip in it. So if you are in Thailand around this time of year you are bound to see people selling this in clear plastic bags (the bus station is full of people selling them amongst other things) and you should definitely have some. and don't think about germs.

I feel like I have barely covered the wonders that we sensed but I think this is enough for now.

Our First Day of School

After having another delightful Thai breakfast, this time consisting of fresh fried fish and sticky rice- to be eaten with the hands, we got our things, walked out the door and around the corner to the school. Being a teacher, Supijit gets a house provided by and right behind the school. We first went to the all school assembly. There are 2,500 students in the middle and high school combined. As we walked, everyone turned and looked at us and whispered things we’ll never know to their friends. We got many smiles and bows. The assembly took place on a large concrete patio outside probably used for recreation like basketball. The kids organized themselves in single file lines according to their class. There was a prayer followed by a pledge/anthem which the band played the music for while students sang. Then everyone sat down to hear the principal and other speakers- except no one was actually listening. Mom and I tried to find the one student that wasn’t conversing or reading but failed. Even the teachers were talking and one was talking on a cell phone. Though we couldn’t understand what was being spoken of, we were told that the Physics teacher was talking about ways to save energy. Sounded good to us. After what felt like an hour, everyone stood up and went to class in one big mob. We put our things in the English teachers’ room, which became our home base at school for the next three days. We rested, ate, and planned for class there. The first period began immediately. I was a little nervous about it just because I didn’t quite know how it was going to go. When we walked in the classroom, all the students who were sitting in neat rows suddenly stood up (led by the girl in the center of the front row) and greeted us with “Good morning teacher!” Wow, this was not normal. After a few moments to catch our breath, we replied with the obvious, “Good morning.” And they just stood there. Mom and I looked at each other not knowing what to do next, and then Supijit intervened and finished the greeting with, “How are you, students?” And they replied, “Fine. Thank you. And you?” She then asked them to sit down which meant it was time for class to begin.
Supijit simply introduced us by saying we were here to from the USA to teach them today. From there we took the floor. Our lesson for the day was on poems. It’s a topic that Supijit herself is interested in and also something she wants her students to be introduced to. We started out with some simple and fun nursery rhymes- “Pease porridge hot, pease porridge cold…” and “pat-a-cake pat-a-cake baker’s man…”. The students caught on rather quickly and were somewhat able to “sing” the rhyme. By the way, Mom lead/taught the class while I was her board assistant- writing notes from what she said on the board and handing out papers. Mom did a great job on getting the students to correctly pronounce words and say them like an American, such as “Pudit” instead of “Put it”. We practiced saying words and then the students picking a word that rhymes. They were good at this. We then moved on to a more serious poem- that is for them: “Trees” by Joyce Kilmer. My job was to write the poem on the board and circle the personifying words. Were not quite sure how much the students understood but at least I’ve got the poem down by heart.
After the first class we were feeling good, but by the end of the day after four classes we were sympathizing for teachers. We had a nice lunch break with the other English teachers(aka “lunch club”) with lots of yummy thai dishes prepared by the local canteen on campus. The food is just amazing all the time. (there’s a lot to say on the food so I will save it for another entry)
There are nine classes in total meeting twice a week that Supijit teaches. We got all of them once and some of them twice. For the second class we played rhyming bingo which turned out to be quite a success. The students really liked it, but it was also very helpful in getting them to listen to the spoken words and then connecting them to a rhyming word on paper. They don’t ever get to hear native speakers so we really emphasized pronunciation. We tried to get them to write a sentence with two rhyming words, yet that was more difficult than expected.

Overall, we felt like we did a good job and enjoyed doing it. It was also helpful that we gave Supijit some time to work on stuff that she does not usually have time to do. But most of all, we got to immerse ourselves in the daily lives of Thai people, especially children. It was a very unique and rewarding experience. There were many things that I was impressed with their school but other things that I felt fortunate to have. It was a public school but so different from anything in the states. Every student wore uniforms that changed almost daily depending on their classes. Even the teachers had matching uniforms. All the girls had the same haircut- short cut above chin which made them look much younger. The students were very polite and always bowed to me or any other adult (this was weird for me since many of them were only a year or two younger than me). I hardly saw any big textbooks or heavy backpacks. Many students rode motorbikes to school. I never saw a bathroom while I was there. Prayer and religion were not considered taboo- one day a monk came and talked for an hour to the students on being better people. Every student is required to take English beginning as early as age 3, yet still some of them had trouble writing sentences. There was very little technology used- cell phones more than anything. Sports and music were part of the school day included in classes.

Working in a school environment you can learn a lot about a culture. Of all the things we learned, the most enlightening was that Mom looks good with white hair. (Supposedly other teachers commented on Mom’s beautiful hair. However, the highlight was when one student guessed Mom’s age to be 38!)

A Buddhist Funeral

As soon as Supijit picks us up, she tells us that her grandfather has just died. All her family is gathering that night at her grandmother’s house. Her two children are already there. Do we want to go? We express our condolences and say, of course, we’ll go with her.

She takes us to her house first to shower and change and relax a minute. I’ll describe the “shower” later. She lives in a small house on the grounds of the school where she teaches. The house has 2 stories and 2 rooms on each floor with a stairway in the middle. We sit at a table, drink water and talk for a while.

We wash up and change (after all we have been sleeping in the same clothes overnight on the train and all day in Ubon R. and on the bus). Then she drives to the village where her grandparents live. It’s about 30 minutes away. The rice fields along the way glimmer under the full moon.

She explains on the way that it isn’t a funeral service per se. She calls it a blessing for the house—to purge the house—to bring in good spirits after a death. Her grandfather was cremated and after the cremation, the family gathered for a remembrance of him at the temple. But tonight the Buddhist monks are coming to the house. Friends, family and neighbors will be there.

The chanting has already started when we arrive. Mostly men are seated on the floor of the big room. Some people are outside in a verandah-like area. That’s where we sit with Supijit. But she doesn’t really sit—she’s moving around getting things ready for the meal that follows.

At first I couldn’t tell who was chanting because no mouths were moving. From my position, I couldn’t see the monks—but later when they left, I counted 12. 12 monks dressed in saffron robes, from youth to old men. The chanting was in a repetitive cadence, fast then slow, over and over, no break. When it ended, monks left, everyone thanked them with prayer hands and bow, as is the Thai traditional greeting, coming and going. Lots of chatter. When the food came out, I realized where the women were—in the back cooking. Supijit says that the family has to do all the cooking when there’s a death in the family. Friends and neighbors come and eat, rather than bringing food over. The food comes out on trays. The family may have to cook like this for three days, she says, unless they are too busy and cut it short.

She made sure we had plenty to eat and then introduced us to her grandmother, other family members and the village council member.

Katie and I were truly tired that night but amazed at how much we had seen in one day. “It will take us a long time to write about all of this,” Katie said. And indeed it has. We are still several days behind in blogging, but we have limited access to the internet anyway. We’ll get back to you when we can. Return to "Venturing Eastward" if you're just catching up with us.

Political Conversation in Khamkuenkaew police box

Sitting at the police box on the corner watching the traffic on a late Friday afternoon in Khamkuenkaew— School kids in blue shirts gather at the corner for drinks and chatter, then board buses, climbing on top and inside. Cars and motorcycles buzz by; more trucks than anything else—large trucks, small trucks, 4 door trucks, covered and open, loaded to the hilt and empty, trucks with several passengers, trucks with only one person. No bikes. What happened to bikes? Ah, there’s one—an old woman with two kids, one on front and one on back.

We are waiting for Supijit, our host. She called to say she’d be late, then called again, “still later.” (Jim and Martina gave us a cell phone to use--it comes in handy.) The police box is on the coolest corner, shaded by a grove of trees and shrubs out back. We asked if we could wait there and the policemen pointed to a picnic-like table and benches on the shady side. A toilet and sink near by. Great place to rest.

One of the policemen comes and sits with us. He speaks a little English. He asks the usual questions of where are you from, etc. We explain we are waiting for a teacher from the school. He is stripped down to his undershirt. Others wander in and out, at first I think out of curiosity and then realize they are going out back behind the shrubs for a purpose. Then they return to watch boxing on TV.

When the undershirted policeman feels comfortable with us, he asks, “You like Bush?” I'm not sure if he's referring to the bushes out back . . . then he says, “You like McCain or Obama?”

When we answer Obama, he says, “Hillary.”

“Are you for Hillary?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says, “a woman. Good to have woman.” That's a surprise, but there is great reverence here for the queen. I wasn’t sure it held over to American elections, however. Katie and I assure him we'd like a woman too, just not Hillary. Then he says, “Jimmy Carter, my favorite.” That’s not something we hear at home much. It makes you realize we don’t always see the world the way others do.

Supijit pulls up and the brief political conversation at the police box in Khamkuenkaew comes to an end.

Traveler’s Nightmare

A good trip can go down hill quickly. It can happen to anyone—two good friends, husband and wife—as well as mother and daughter. It usually happens when you are hot, tired, hungry, and lost. All familiar signs are gone and no one speaks English.

When we arrived at the train station in Ubon Ratchathani, everyone started moving quickly, like they do at train stations on arrival—as if they knew where they were going. Loaded with two back packs, a shoulder bag and pulling a suitcase, we weren’t moving fast. We decided to go first to the bus station and get our tickets for later in the day and see if we could stow the bags. A tuk-tuk was waiting out front at the station. We climbed aboard.

A tuk-tuk is a three wheeled motorized conveyance with room for two. It has a top but no sides. We showed the driver the map in the book and said bus station. He took off and kept going at rapid speed, much further than the map in the book seemed to indicate. But he finally reached the bus station, we got our tickets for the 2:10 bus and then looked for storage bins. None were available but the station master said we could leave them in a room for 10 baht each bag, pay now. We looked back at our bags and wondered if we’d ever see them again. Traveling is full of acts of faith.

By now it was getting close to 10:00, we hadn’t eaten since before we left Bangkok, I was still fantasizing about those French-Indochina pastry shops. Katie checked the Lonely Planet once again, said we just need to walk up to the left then take the first right. The Fern Hut would be on the right.

The sun was hot and piercing down. Traffic along the road forced us to stay on the grassy edge that sometimes was a ditch. At the intersection, we realized we were the only people on foot—two foreign women, one old, one young, walking in the hot sun. We walk and walk. It is getting later and hotter. We have no idea where we are. No English at all. No road signs. No tuk-tuks, no taxis. We are entering the nightmare zone.

We cross the street to where it is a bit shadier and sit on the curb\step of a shop and ponder, look at book. We ask the shop clerk for help. She doesn’t speak English and runs for help in panic. A man comes. We show him the map and point to the Fern Hut. He looks confused. We ask him to point to where are we now. He looks and turns the book around and says—we are not on the map.

By now, I was getting a headache. My blood sugar is dropping fast. I ask where can we eat. He points out back. We go behind the shop and there is a row of little off-the street eateries with aluminum pots of boiling things, unrecognizable except for hard boiled eggs. Ok, I could settle for a hard boiled egg.

I say to Katie, Let’s eat here.
She says no.
What about hard boiled eggs?
She says no. She’s holding out for the pastry shop.

I need to do something, can’t let my blood sugar drop any lower. I’m becoming weak, headachy. I rummage through my bag and find a smashed granola bar. We sit on the curb again and I choke it down with water. Now my reason is coming back so I gather my wits. Aren’t I the experienced one on this trip? Aren’t I here to help my daughter learn the skills of traveling? I say, “What I would do in a situation like this is to get a cab to the Fern Hut.”

“In case, you haven’t noticed, Mom, there are no cabs here. And besides I don’t know the address.”
“Well,” I collect my mature self again, “I would ask for help.”
“Well," says Katie, not at all mimicking me, "that guy is gone and he didn’t seem to know where we were anyway.”

Finally, we agree to walk back to the bus station.

At the bus station we get a ride and point to the map, saying something about food. He looks at these two foreigners and takes us to the local KFC. We say NO, and tell him to go to the hotel. He knows where that is and we have some options from there. The first restaurant we ask about is “gone.” That’s the disadvantage of using an old guide book. So we ask for the second one—it’s around the corner.

At last—This is not the pastry shop that I have imagined but it offers western breakfasts, has clean toilets and a fan. I order scrambled eggs, toast and coffee. Katie orders green curry, rice, and spicy vegetable soup. We are happy. We “listen” to the Olympics ut can’t see the screen. Katie changes her contacs and we relax a moment. The travelers’ nightmare has ended and we are still taking to each other.

Just as an addendum—the trauma turned into treat that afternoon. At the museum we saw a display of regional woven fabrics. Katie looked up in the guidebook and found a seller. She assured me it was just down the street and to the right. This time she was right. I was delighted. We bought some local hand made cloth and then walked along the food stalls where Katie bought a Thai mortal and pestle that we had used in the MayKaidee cooking class. It is so much fun to travel with someone who shares the same fetishes—food and fabrics.

A tuk-tuk man has had his eye on us and waited til we were ready. We showed him the map and pointed to the bus station. He nodded and headed in the opposite direction. After a little ways, we realized he wasn't turning around and stopped him, explaining that the bus staion that we wanted was the other way. He turned around.

So you see, in only a few hours in this town, we had already learned to go in the right direction.

We realized the Chinese fortune cookie that said "You are going in the right direction, " wasn't so easy as we thought. We caught the bus to KhamKuenKaew.

Overnight Train to Ubon Ratchathani

I recently had a Chinese fortune cookie say, “You are going in the right direction.” I put it in my bag to save for a day I needed to know for sure. It fell out of my bag the day Katie and I were heading for Ubon Ratchathani on the overnight train. It was good to have any reassurance.

The train was scheduled to leave at 8:30 pm and arrive at 7:30 am. It didn’t leave on time or arrive on time, of course. We were in the 2nd class sleeper car with 32 people. We had 2 top berths across from each other. 2 men were below us. We heard them most of the night snoring. We had a ladder to climb down and the toilet was at the opposite end of the car. I drank as little as possible.

We got off to a rough start but as the night wore on, things settled down and we did quite well. A summary of the rough stuff: I lost the tickets (I must be used to etickets), fortunately Jim found them as we were in the van leaving for the station; instead of the soporific “clickety clack” that you think of as train sounds, this one made loud clunks and pops and jerks that sounded like the side was falling off, then it would go silent and you thought it had stopped for good (neither the noise nor the jerks were conducive to sleep); we were next to the door where people boarded so they were going in and out all the time usually leaving the door open letting in heat, noises and exhaust fumes; finally the door broke and just stayed open. We tugged on it for awhile then gave up and climbed into the berth and pulled the curtains, resigning ourselves to “the experience.”

By morning, the door had been fixed, the air was cool, the train was moving smoothly and we were only about two hours late. Katie and I both had a good night’s sleep, only a little worse for the wear, climbed down the ladders and stood in the corridor between the cars (our berth had no windows) and watched the early morning sun rise over the rice fields of northern Thailand. A beautiful and welcome sight.

Here are some suggestions for things to take with you in case you are ever riding on an overnight train in Thailand—eye mask (save it from the airlines—the lights stayed on all night), night light with battery in case you want to read; hand sanitizer or wipes for face and hands, bottled water, shoes that slip on and off easily. Katie used an MP3 player. She had music and a book loaded that both cut out the noise and lulled her to sleep. I took melatonin--a whole handful.

We felt good, excited that we had made it, rested and hungry. The Lonely Planet guide book said Ubon R. had some coffee and pastry shops left over from the French Indochina days with Western and Asian breakfasts. I was really looking forward to those pastries shops on our arrival.

Venturing Eastward

Ok, so this is my second try at writing this entry. The first failed due to internet connection difficulties, so I don’t quite have the motivation or spirit that I had the first round but here is a little background on where we are going next.

When we were making our plans to go to Thailand it was imperative to me that we visit a farm and live with a Thai family. The only way I knew how to do this was through an organization called WWOOF (World wide opportunities on organic farms). It’s an international network of organic farmers that offer their home to people in return for work. It’s a great way to learn about farming and other cultures and a cheap way to travel. I got in contact with a farmer that seemed to suit both me and mom, and luckily she was happy to have us at her home. Her name is Supijit and she is an English teacher at the local high school and also has a rice field. It was the perfect combo- farmer and teacher (and mother of two teenagers). She lives in a town called KhamKhaekaew which is about an hour north of Ubon Ratchathani in the Yasothon Province (Eastern Thailand near Laos border). So that is where we are headed for now. We don’t quite know what to expect but are excited to get out of the busy city for awhile and live and learn in the rural areas. We plan to stay there about a week and then go North to Nang Khai and then to Sukhothai and back to Bangkok. We will see how it goes. We will face challenges such as the language, accommodations, and transportation but there will be many great stories and adventures along the way!

Plastic, Plastic Everywhere

I travel to the other side of the world and I still see lots of plastic. I shouldn’t be surprised, I know, but when I look at fresh produce and it is covered in a clear film, I’m a bit turned off. In the grocery stores, most of the vegetables and fruit are individually wrapped in plastic. It’s absolutely absurd. When we were at the Majesty’s Organic produce market in the mall (pictured below), it was all a little too strange to be buying produce not only in a mall but also wrapped in plastic. At first I thought it was an organic regulation but that’s obviously not the case. When I open the refrigerator half of what I see is plastic. At the market people prepare delicious dishes for people to eat there or take home- that is take in plastic bags. Meat, soup, rice, soy milk, sliced fruit- all fresh and all nicely packaged in plastic. (To the left is a man who sells at the night market soy milk, coconut milk, and other homemade drinks.)

It’s not just food either. People drink their coke in plastic bags (see Mom below). Though they do sell most cokes in reusable glass bottles, the sellers will then pour the coke into a plastic bag for the costumer so that they can make the profit off the bottle. So much for not using PET bottles. Even books and fabric are plastic wrapped. And no signs of a plastic bag ban here.
Oh yeah, and I have yet to see a recycling bin.
Maybe I’m just hypersensitive to plastic but I expected better standards for Thailand. Who is setting the standards anyhow? Though the States does not have a superb recycling program, we have at least been doing it for two decades or so. Does it really take that long for methods to travel? Interestingly, Bangladesh was the first country to completely ban plastic bags from supermarkets and Indonesia, India, and China have taken similar action. Why have these countries not influenced their Asian neighbors? Perhaps food safety and convenience is more important, but what about all that pollution?

Well, at least the fruits are delicious (even if it is covered in plastic)!