Church in Backenyaw

Women's choir performing at church.
A young Karen girl in a traditional white dress that women wear to indicate that they are unmarried.

We spent a total of five days in Huay Hee. On Sunday we went to church with our mother. Huay Hee is a completely Christian village and they have about five services on Sunday. The Karen in Huay Hee converted to Christianity from animism several decades ago, because their animist traditions required the entire village to move any time there was a tragic event. They Karen were tired of moving around all of the time, so they decided to adopt Christianity, so they could stay in place (I have a feeling that modern pressures and missionary work also helped form their decision to convert). In fact, Backenyaw was not a written language before they converted to Christianity, at which time missionaries helped the Karen develop a written language so the Bible could be translated.

Our host mother went to every service on Sunday, except for the men’s service of course. Ellen and I went twice, but declined to go the third and fourth time. As beautiful as the choir sounded, that was just too much church in one day for me.

Host family in Huay Hee

Adorable Huay Hee host family.
The paved road through the village.

Huay Hee, seems a lot more metropolitan than the others (probably because it has a paved road). Still our bathroom has no door and drainage was obviously not taken into account when the concrete bottom was installed. I had to take a bucket shower in my pasin (a wrap around piece of cloth) in a puddle of cold water. Our host family is adorable and very young. Our host mother is 27 and our host father 23 (only 2 years older than me!). They have a three year old son who is an absolute terror. He played with us when we first arrived by showing off with his ax and then pretended to shoot with a piece of wood that he used as a gun. His redeeming quality is that he is possibly the cutest kid I have ever seen in my entire life. He has big bright eyes and an endearing smile. He’s too young to go to school, so he doesn’t speak any Thai yet and we don’t speak any Backenyaw (except for hello/goodbye/thank you, which isDa bpluegh and incredibly fun to say), so we communicate through facial expressions and actions. Words aren’t really needed to play.

Hike to Huay Hee

Rice balling trouble makers.
View during hike from Nam Hoo to Huay Hee.

After two days in Nam Hoo we hiked to the village of Huay Hee were we would stay for five days, have our mid-course seminar and meet up with the other group.

Journal excerpt:

Today’s hike was relatively easy. We went up a mountain and then down a mountain. The view at the top of incredible! Everywhere you looked you could see mountains. I really am in love with mountains! I was pretty sore today and I’m glad set a slow pace.

My host mother packed us way too much rice for lunch, so Brittnee, Kari and I were playing with it and balling it up. The balled up rice looked like snow balls, so we started throwing them off the mountain. Mid-act it occurred to us that what we were doing, probably wasn't riproy (a Thai concept of consideration, respect, propriety, etc. For us, it determines what is culturally appropriate). We bashfully looked at our Karen guide, Pi Sawong, and apologized for not being riproy. He laughed and in typical Thai fashion of round-about reprimanding, he said, "It's ok. It's a different culture."

Once we arrived in the village my mood began to plummet. I'm crabby. I’ve been with people for days and days and in the villages I always have to act interested and be polite. It’s actually a lot of work to stay social all of the time. What I’m craving right now is time to myself.

Working in Nam Hoo

Our beautiful host mother carrying chopped wood up the hill with her head!!
Kari and I were struggling to carry the wood up the hill. Our host mother really showed us up.
Our host mother chopping wood with incredible precision.
Our house in the village of Nam Hoo.

Family Day in Nam Hoo

Nam Hoo was a delightful village to be in. It was quaint and nestled into the mountains. In every direction I looked, I could see mountain peaks. For this homestay I was with two other girls, opposed to the normal 2 people per house. Our host mother was middle-aged, speaks Thai and strikingly beautiful. She ate dinner with us and even let us help with the dishes. We were so tired after the hellish hike that we went to bed at 6:30 pm.

(To be polite, Karen people let their guests eat first and then eat separately afterwards. I didn’t really like it and I always trying to get my host family to eat with me. Sometimes a family would prepare more of a different kind of food for themselves, but other times they would just eat the left overs. This always left me in an awkward position because I never knew if they’d be eating my left overs until after I was done eating, at which point, what was left was usually meager helpings. Other times, the families would sit and chat with us, but still not eat until later.)

The next day in Nam Hoo was a “family day” which I interpreted as a rest day. I was incredibly sore. In the morning we were talking to our host mother and I asked her about her husband because we hadn’t seen anyone else in the house yet. Through our broken Thai and many hand motions we discovered that he was dead. She had pointed to the sky and figured that meant he’d gone to heaven. We all looked at our host mother with sorry, sympathetic eyes.

Our host mother decided that we were too tired to go to the rice fields, so we helped her saw a teak log into fire wood. The work wasn’t too tiresome, but chopping the firewood did take some skill. Our host mother always hit her mark, cutting the log in halves and then fourths. She let me try, and it was pathetic. I never hit the same point twice and never with enough force to do any good when I did succeed in hitting the log. Our host mother laughed and laughed (as did our awesome Karen field instructor, Pi Sawong. He’s not a permanent ISDSI employee, but should be. He is one of the coolest people I’ve ever met, more on him later).

We then filled baskets with the firewood to hike up the hill to our house. When the weakling that I am couldn’t quite lift up the basket, my host mother helped me by instructing me to put the strap around my forehead and carry the wood up with my head. Really? I tried it and as soon as she let go of the basket my head snapped back. That was definitely a no go. A friend helped me carry the basket up the hill. At the top we looked back and our host mother was trucking up the hill, carrying the heavy basket with the strap around her forehead.

Later in the day, we met our host mother’s daughter. She showed us family photos. We got to a photo of her father and we all made sad faces and said we were sorry. A few hours later, at dinner a man came into our house and started to talk with our host mother. He began to move things around and help cook dinner. We were all so confused. He looked strikingly similar to the man in the photo shown to us earlier. Finally our host mother introduced him as her husband. The other girls and I looked at each other and began to laugh. We thought he was dead, when really our host mother was trying to tell us that he’d gone to the upland rice field!! The misunderstanding gave us a good laugh.

Hike to Nam Hoo

(A tough hike. Beautiful Forest)
(playing with the children at the school in Huay Nam)
(A Karen woman, wearing traditional clothing, at work)
(The tea served to thirsty, tired hikers)

(The fungus is among-us: a forest shot)

The hike to Nam Hoo was brutal. The first 40 minutes were pleasant, but the next 3 hours were straight up hill. At one point our guides got frustrated by the relatively slow pace of our group and just booked it to the top. We spent the next hour trying to discern where the path was and searching for the footsteps of our guides. At the top we paused for lunch, only to find that leeches had wiggled their way in past our gaiters, pants and socks. The anticoagulant that they secrete left us all with bloody feet and ankles.

After lunch we were under the assumption that the rest of the hike would be easy, because we were following a road down to the village of Nam Hoo. The second half of the hike turned out to be one of the most strenuous hikes I’ve ever done. After hiking straight up for another hour and a half with no shade (because we were on a road), we went straight down. The roads were not paved, but rather bumpy dirt roads that were washed away in many parts and eroded on the sides. The compact dirt and loose gravel made it difficult to get a solid footing. The downhill wreaked havoc on my shins, toes and quads. We had a few close calls, with people slipping here and there and their heavy packs pulling them down on their backsides. If it were not for a great group of people, singing and making good conversation, the hike would have much much worse.

Huay Nam tots

Hike to Huay Nam

Hikes through Mae Hong Son

Our first hike us took us through small streams and a few shallow rivers. In all we had about 30 “river crossings.” It was a beautiful hike. Shaded and peaceful. Some of the hike was pretty technical. I remember at one point I was practically rock climbing as I shimmied over a damned up part of the river, clutching onto a boulder. The last part of the hike was brutal. It was straight up hill with no shade. I was cursing the terrain under my breath. It was such a relief to enter the village, Huay Nam—or the village of tots as I like to say. There were so many little kids and young animals running all over the place. The piglets, kids and baby water buffalo ran away from us whenever we got too close. There were so many cute things in the village that it was a little overwhelming.

At one point I was trying to coax a baby goat into coming closer and a Karen woman saw me. She walked out of her house and, without hesitation, picked up the baby goat and put it in my arms. It was so adorable! The next day I tried to follow her example, by scooping up a baby goat. It’s mother came after me and started to get pretty aggressive, ramming it’s head into my knees. The Karen woman just laughed as I ran away screaming.

We spent two very enjoyable days in this village. In the morning of our second day I got to harvest rice with my host grandmother. She also didn’t speak any Thai, but we got by through pantomimes and smiling. I really enjoyed harvesting the lowland rice. With the help of the other two girls I was staying with, the four of us cleared quite a lot of rice (although we only cut and did not bundle the rice). I got into a rhythm and could have stayed out there for hours with the company of my thoughts. The entire rice harvest process is a lot of work and I can see why it is a community event.

In the afternoon we went to the village school to play with the kids. We passed out cookies and asked them their names. The ages ranged from 4 to 11. They were adorable. We played tag. London Bridge is falling down (but with Karen lyrics about vegetables and fruit), duck duck goose (again with Karen words for different animals), birdie on a perch and set up an awesome obstacle course. Of course the little kids always won the obstacle course because they were so tiny and nimble. It was so much fun laughing and playing with the little kids. Hanging out with kids is one of the few times when the language barrier isn’t a painful obstacle.

An excerpt from my journal:

A typical village morning…I was awoken at 3:30 a.m. by the roosters. The one across the street and the one under our house did a call and response for about 2 ½ hours. I officially woke up at 7 a.m. Around 8 a herd of water buffalo walked down the path in front of our house. The were unattended and seemed to know exactly where they were going. The last in line paused, looked me in the eyes and then continued.

(I remember thinking how bizarre this morning was at the time, but by the end of my time in Mae Hong Son, I’d grown accustomed to large packs of animals wandering wherever they pleased. I never got used to the roosters, however.)

Political Ecology of Forests

(Written in Thai on the side of the bus: Chiang Mai to Mae Hong Son)

The field portion of our Political Ecology of Forests course took place in the province of Mae Hong Son—north west of the province of Chiang Mai and bordering Burma. During our time in Mae Hong Son we hiked between Karen villages, staying for different amounts of time in each. The Karen people make up a hill tribe that came to Thailand hundreds of years ago from Burma. The Karen use swidden-fallow (slash and burn) agriculture in their mountain settlements. Over the past few decades the Royal Forestry Department has tried to relocate Karen villages that were within the boundaries of the national park. Forming a network of village leaders and working with an NGO, the Karen showed the Royal Forestry Department that they could live sustainably with the land and preserve forest through their agricultural practices.

In getting to the mountainous province we took an eight hour bus ride with over two thousand turns, and with the way Thais drive, it felt like we were on an endless rollercoaster.

The first village we spent the night in was Pakalo. This is village is unlike the other Karen villages we visited because of its proximity to the city Mae Hong Son. Many Karen families move to this village to be closer to their children who are sent to school in the city after 6^th grade. Elderly Karen move to this village to be closer to the hospital and others move here to work. The village does very little farming and only has an acre or two dedicated to rice production. Most of their food comes from the city.

Here is an excerpt from my journal:

Nov. 2

We’ve arrived in our first Karen village after a bumpy, sweaty and all together uncomfortable 8 hour bus ride to Mae Hong Son. The small village is charming and smells nice—like the woods—damp wood and burning wood. It’s a welcome break to the gripping pollution of Chiang Mai, where the smell of exhaust takes hold of your body and gets stuck in your nose and lungs. Communication with our host mom is tough. She doesn’t appear to speak or know any Thai, except for the word ab nom, which means to shower, which she is very adamant we do (note: Karen have their own language, Backenyaw, but most Karen know Thai because that is the language taught in school).

The houses here are packed so close together and I can hear everything being said. It’s nice and provides a sort of sound track for my experience.

Setting my float into the Mae Ping

Lighting the candle in my float before I put it into the river

Setting off a lantern

Loy Kratong

Loy Kratong is a Thai celebration that takes place in November each year. Before we left for the beautiful mountains of Mae Hong Son, we were able to partake in some of the festivities.

The festival is meant to honor the spirits of the river, Mae Ping, which is the central river running through Chiang Mai. As few as ten year ago the river was a hot spot of activity for city residents to bath, wash clothes and transport goods. To thank the river spirits and apologize for all of the pollution caused by humans, small floats, made out of banana tree cores and decorated with banana leaves, flowers, incense and candles, are put into the river as an offering. Our Thai Ajaans helped us make floats at school and explained the traditions.

In addition to releasing a float on the river, many people release lit lanterns into the sky. On the first night of Loy Kratong I stood on the roof top of our apartment complex and watched thousands of lanterns float above the city. It was gorgeous. I released a lantern with some of my Thai friends. We wrote our wishes on the lantern before we set it up. They said that if the lantern caught on fire, or didn't take off properly, you'd have bad luck and your wish wouldn't come true.

After setting off our lanterns, we went down to the riverside to put our floats in the river. It was absolute chaos. Fireworks were going off everywhere--big and small. Some large ones went off so close to the ground it was terrifying. I bought some small fire crackers with my friends. As the whole city going nuts with fireworks, my friend Adam said, "it's like every 10 year old boy's dream come true." At one point, something exploded in the middle of the river. I shrieked. With whizzing fire crackers and explosions everywhere it felt like I was in the middle of a war zone.

It was exhilarating. From one moment to the next I never felt the same--brimming with glee and fearful for my life.

Returning to Chiang Mai

I've returned to Chiang Mai after 3 weeks in Mae Hong Son (a north-west region of Thailand that borders Burma). Our forests course was amazing and I had an incredible time hiking and learning about forest management and swidden-fallow agriculture from Karen hill tribe families.

Within the next few days I hope to post more in depth entries about my experience, but I must admit that the more I explore Chiang Mai and make Thai friends, there are so many fun things to do that distract me from my blog.

UHDP Soccer game

21st birthday/annual ISDSI vs UHDP soccer game. We won!!

21 in Thailand

My 21st birthday was sunny, beautiful and sober. After a visit to corporate orange orchard and then another visit to an organic orange and papaya orchard we called it a day and headed back to UHDP for the annual soccer game. It was great fun with Kyle carrying our team, and Martha having a screaming match with Pi Apat. ISDSI won by a miraculous own-goal. It was the first time UHDP had lost in years.

At dinner the UHDP staff presented me with a bouquet of flowers that they picked from the forest. It was so beautiful!!! I could even identify some of the ferns and palms used.

Then I was presented with a gellatin cake (wich tasted pretty funky but looked really cool) and ice cream! We borrowed our field instructors lap top and had a dance party.

The night ended out by a small hut on the hill side of an agroforest overlooking the mountains that separate Thailand and Burma. The stars we amazing and we could see the lights of small villages scattered across the mountains. Several shooting stars and many stories later we called it a night.

bovine friends

hanging out at UHDP

Intestines

Pig intestines ready to be cooked after I cleaned them out.

Post Pig Harvest

Wat in Chiang Dao

Photo of the Wat where I got to participate in an unspecified ceremony/tradition mentioned in an earlier post

Foraging for Food

The day after the pig harvest our task was to create a meal out of entirely foraged foods. Having spent several days learning about all of the different plants and their uses we felt fairly well prepared. Some people harvested rattan, bamboo, peppers, and herbs. I was in the protein group, so we went fishing.

After many unsuccessful throws of the net, we decided to "cheat" and went to the stock pond to collect catfish. We also collected a handful of frogs.

Taking them back to the kitchen we poured salt into the bag of fish to kill them. A Thai helper grabbed a frog by the legs and wacked it on concrete several times. It was terrible. The frog bloated and started to bleed from the mouth. We asked the Thai kitchen staff if we could pour salt into the bag of frogs to kill them too. They said we could try. It seemed to work and the Thai women were happy to employ this alternative method.

Next we scrapped the scales off of the fish, slit their throats and pulled out their organs. As we snapped their jaw (which was apparently an essential step in the process) the fish would spasm. The first time I was taken off guard and shrieked.

The frogs were even worse to deal with. Pi Apat’s wife showed us how to disembowel a frog. It was gross. One brave member of our group reached to try and copy Pi Apat’s wife only to find that the frog was still alive.

Apparently the frogs had only been temporarily knocked unconscious by the salt—not killed. The frogs came too and started to jump out of the bowl and across the yard. We shrieked and chased after the frogs. Pi Apat’s wife continued to remove the organs from the frogs even though they were still alive. We kept screaming. I’m not quite sure how it is possible, but one frog, having had all of its internal organs taken out, started to crawl up and out of the “dead” frog bowel. It was terrifying.

I’m convinced people could hear our group yelling for miles. The meal was pretty tasty, but I’d had enough of killing stuff for a while…

Upland agriculture

A view of upland agriculture on our hike between Palong villages near Phung.

UDHP: Pig Harvest

The second half of our program was held at the NGO UHDP (Upland Holistic Development Project). The NGO tries teaches marginalized hill tribes how make the transition from monocropping to installing more sustainable agroforests. At UHDP we learned about many native plants (including about 6 different species of the nasty rattan) and how they’re used (legumes to fix nitrogen, pineapples to prevent erosion, etc).

The highlight of our stay at UHDP was the pig harvest. In combination with reading the book, “Omnivore’s Dilemma” the activity’s purpose was to make us critically examine what it means to eat meat—where it comes from, how it is raised and killed and how humans deal with the ethics of eating meat.

The event itself was awful. The pig was carried in a cage down to the slaughter area. It was released from its cage and began to eat grass. It seemed so trusting and unsuspecting. Then 6 students and 4 Thai people pounced on the pig and held it down. It began to squeal. The noise was one of the worst things I have ever heard. The volume escalated as Pi Apat hog tied the pig. In one swift, coordinated effort the group lifted the pig up onto a small platform. Meanwhile, the pig continued to wail.

I was standing to the side watching. My heart sunk to my stomach as I listened to the pig. Some of the other students around me were crying. One boy’s face looked stunned, he looked down and saw the small Thai girl that lived in the complex and lifted her up. She seemed completely un-phased, but it appeared that the boy needed to reach out and show compassion for another being while watching the slaughter.

The Thai people, on the other hand, didn’t seem nearly as disturbed. They had seen many pig slaughters before. Pigs have a big significance in Thai culture---especially among the hill tribes. Pigs are sacrificed and eaten for important cultural holidays and when people get married. A woman may even look at how a man raises his pigs when considering whether or not to marry him.

The actual moment of the death came and went pretty quickly. After the knife was plunged into the pig’s heart the noise stopped and it stopped moving and breathing shortly after that. A funny switch happened in my mind during this moment. I was on the brink of tears while the pig was being killed, but as soon as it was dead, I was able to look at it as an object. It was no longer a living thing—it was a piece of meat that needed to be prepared.

Next Pi Apat took a clump of grass and stuck it in the hole where the knife had been to stop up the bleeding. Then dried palms we set on fire and we used these palms to hit the pig and burn off its hair. We scrapped of its top layer of skin and burned the skin again. The tail and ears were cut off and thrown into the fire to be eaten as a snack.

Then the head and legs were chopped off. I wielded the machete for one of the legs. It was difficult to cut through the bone and took me about 10 wacks (in comparison to the two that it took the Thai man who demonstrated).

Next the body was sliced open down the middle. First the blood was collected. One of the Thai men drank the blood. Then all of the organs were harvested. I couldn’t believe how much of the pig was made up of intestines and fat.

I helped clean out the intestines. It was possibly the most disgusting thing I have ever done. We ran water through the pig’s filled intestines to flush them out….that’s right. I pooped a pig. Our pig had parasites—big round worms that we saw die within minutes of exiting the intestines. After cleaning out the intestines I felt a bit nauseous, but it was really fun getting to see the interworking of a pig and the form of its waste at every different stage.

The following meal was delicious. Every part of the pig was used and excess meant was packaged in banana leaves and sent home with villagers or UHDP staff. The meat was possibly the best I’ve ever had. After the event, awful as it was, I’ve decided that I’d kill an animal again in order to eat meat...but I wouldn’t want to do it too often.

Mae Ta Valley

Looking out over the Mae Ta Valley on the watershed hike

Mae Ta Watershed Hike

Our amazing tour guides new every plant in the forest and it's use!

Mae Ta rice paddy

Mae Ta---home of the best sticky rice I've ever had.

Paw Pat's agroforest

Yours truly taking copious notes during a tour of Paw Pat's agroforest.

Mae Ta

Cow roaming free in Mae Ta. Certain farmers will set their cows loose for weeks at a time to graze in the forests. Although this can be a risky thing to do. Two years ago several Mae Ta cows were killed and eaten by tigers at the edge of the forest

Palong Hill-tribe villages

After our two nights in Chiang Dao we visited two Palong villages to learn about how, as marginalized people, they manage their land, farm and live.

Palong is an ethnic hill tribe group that came to Thailand many years ago from Burma. There are still many Palong in Burma. Because Palong people are not Thai citizens, they cannot own any land, which makes farming difficult because their land could be taken away from them at any time.

UHDP (Upland Holistic Development Project), the NGO community we stayed with for the second half of our field course, helps teach hilltribes like the Palong how to farm sustainably and diversify their crops to meet the dietary needs of a family. While visiting the Palong villages we saw a lot of agroforests and spoke to Palong farmers who had previously been monocropping.

Staying in the villages was a very different experience from being in Chiang Mai. There weren't any roads and everything was muddy. All of the toilets were squat toilets and the showers were bucket showers. The bathroom was a box of corrugated tin for the walls, roof and door. All of the houses were raised off of the ground, with equipment stored underneath. You could often see through gaps in the walls. Packs of children ran around barefoot and muddy. The women wore traditional outfits: elaborate skirts and short jackets. They all wore rattan belts. The old women were chewing beetle nut to get intoxicated. It made their mouths red and it looked like they were spitting blood (it was initially pretty alarming).

All of the students slept in a long house (bamboo structure with floor raised about 3 or 4 feet off of the ground). We slept on the floor with mats, pillows and mosquito nets around us. I woke up in the morning to a symphony of animals; pigs, dogs, roosters. The roosters were the worst. They started calling the sun around three in morning. One had crawled under the floor of the long house and was crowing right by my head.

I never felt very clean or comfortable in the Palong villages and I became acutely aware of how many of the things that I consider to be necessities are, in fact, luxuries.

I'm happy to have been exposed to the city life of Chiang Mai before going to Mae Ta and the Palong villages because the villages are so different that I probably would have been overwhelmed by culture shock. At the same time, I'm glad to have visited the villages because, had I not, I think my view of life in Thailand would be warped.

Chiang Dao Temple

Having missed the turn to the temple, I decided to get up early the day we were leaving Chiang Dao and check out the wat. The walk to the wat was long and calm. There are 500 steps to the wat, but there are many landings with little buddhist sayings. Surrounded by the forest, climbing the stairs was an enjoyable activity.

At the end of the stairs, before the entrance to the wat, there was a pagoda with lots of photos of a famous monk that founded the temple. When I arrived, there were monks seated in a row in the pagoda preparing food that was being taken to the kitchen further down the trail. I wanted to take a look at the photos and continue to the wat proper, so I decided to enter the pagoda. To be respectful I knelt down and wyed (hands clasped and bow head, called the wy), three times to the Buddha image. Thankfully my host family had taken me to enough wats that I had learned what to do.

As I was seated some women with shaved heads and white robes came in and did the same thing. They were maechi--buddhist nuns. I was very excited because I recently read a book about Thai buddhist nuns and knew that encountering one was rare. After I finished my three wys I realized that something was starting to happen, so I remained seated like the women around me. A young man, of no particular status (aka not a monk) set small silver bowls and silver "i dream of genie"-like flasks in front of the women around me. Then he set one down in front of me.

I was so excited and a bit nervous. The monks began to chant and I sat with head bowed and my hands clasped. I occasionally glanced at the women next to me to see what they were doing. The women uncapped the flask and slowly poured the water into the silver bowl. I did the same.

When the chanting ended the women took their silver bowls and stood up. I did the same. They walked out of the pagoda and down to a patch of grass where they knelt and said a prayer as they poured the water onto the grass. I did the same.

When it was all over, one of the Maechi turned to me and asked if I spoke English, I responded in Thai and our conversation went from there. I told her I was a student in Chiang Mai just passing through. She invited me to eat breakfast in the mess hall, but I unfortunately had to decline (to make sure I got back in time to leave with the group). She wished me good luck and I left.

I was so excited by what had just happened that I hardly knew what to do with myself. I skipped down 500 stairs, pausing every so often to look back up at the wat.

Chiang Dao

We had a break during the middle of our agroecology course and met up with the head professor in the village of Chiang Dao for a mid-course seminar.

Chiang Dao is nestled in a mountain range north of Chian Mai. After the seminar we had some time to explore. A group of us were planning on visiting a wat (temple) close to our accommodations. Lagging behind the rest of the group, my friend, Ellen, and I took a fortuitous wrong turn. After walking around a small village for hours, looking for the wat we were stared down my some menacing dogs. (The trick to dealing with stray dogs in Thailand is to either throw a rock at them or pretend like you're throwing a rock at them). Our rock throwing trick didn't work, and being outnumbered, we retreated. In doing so, we stumbled upon some caves.

The caves were part of a temple complex, but we decided they might be fun to check out. Upon entering the caves, we found a group of Thai tour guides with lanterns in hand. Ellen and I decided to sign up for a tour. A hundred baht later we were on a private tour of the most amazing caves I'd ever seen. We saw bats and natural stone structures that looked like animals (with buddhist scarves and robes wrapped around them). We also saw the most incredible stalactites and stalagmites I've ever seen. Some were still alive and were glistening when the lantern shed its light upon them.

The tour was about half an hour long and our guide led us from cavern to cavern. Sometimes we'd have to squeeze through some pretty small passageways. The caves were so silent and all you could hear was the faint roar or the gas lantern and drips of water. Before the caves were opened up to the public they were only visited by monks. The caves were a bit eerie, but felt mostly peaceful. At times the sanctity of the caves was palpable and I could see why it would be such an appealing place for monks wanting to meditate.

Our tour guide was so kind and really liked us because we spoke Thai. Unlike in the United States, where foreigners are expected to speak English, Thai people get so excited if foreigners can even say a word or two in Thai.

At the end of the tour we were giddy. The beauty was overwhelming and it was a great way to top off an afternoon of unexpected adventure.

City exploration and Organic Farming

The past two weeks have been a blur of activity. Three weekends ago I moved out of my host family's house and into dorm-style apartments with the other students. While I was sad to say goodbye to my host family, I relished in the new-found freedom and opportunity to explore downtown Chiang Mai. The downside to living in the dorms is that we speak much more English (which can also be a welcome mental break), the upside is that every night is a party.

After a week of in-class instruction about Agroecology, we headed out into the field. Last week I went with a group of 16 other students to the northern Thai village, Mae Ta. A significant portion of Mae Ta's farmers made a switch from mono-crop farming to organic farming about sixteen years ago. During the week we went on tours of organic farms, spoke with the town youth and women and hiked around the watershed. The greatest part of the experience, however, was getting to stay with a Thai host family.

My host family had an organic farm on the foot of the mountain. They had peanuts, ginger, cabbage, papaya, pineapple, mangoes, green beans, long beans, basil, mint, licorice, and many other leafy greens that I couldn't identify. I found it fascinating that they had little to no pest problems. Their management strategy was to companion plant--grow strong smelling plants next to other plants to deter bugs. I had a lovely time the day I went to help my host family on the farm. As we walked around the farm they explained what each plant was and usually ripped off a leaf for me to smell and eat. Talk about sensory learning!

Because it is still too early to harvest rice, I helped my host family weed. Although, at times I felt more like a hindrance than a help because they were doing the same work three times as fast.

Another highlight was touring an agroforest. It was amazing to see the theories of agroecology put into practice. During our hike through the forest, I would have had no idea that I was walking through a farm without a guide, because it looked just like any other forest. The idea of agroforestry is to left plants grow on their own as if in a natural system, practicing under the assumption that nature knows best.

By far the best experience of the whole week, however, was living with a Thai host family that spoke no English. While sometimes frustrating, this experience let me reflect upon how much Thai I really knew! A triumphant moment was when my host father was explaining how he makes sugar from honey (smokes the bees out of the hive, takes apart the hive, lets honey drip from the combs, leaves the honey in a bottle, untouched and settled for two years and then scrapes out the sugar that has risen to the top of the bottle). A Thai-english dictionary, and many gestures were used to get the point across, but I was still astounded that I had understood. It made my day...my week!

"Tou Tung!"

Today was my last night with my host family and it went incredibly well. When I got home I took my last routine bike ride through the town of Doisaket, stopping to take photos of the rice fields and wat (temple). After hand washing my clothes by hand in the large water bins outside, I sat down to a magnificent spread. We ate the biggest fish I’ve ever seen and lamb moo, which is supposed to bring good luck to whoever eats it on their journey. My host father bought Heineken beers for us to share.

Before we began to eat I read a little paragraph that my Thai teacher had helped me compose. I thanked my host family for having me, feeding me such excellent food, helping me with my Thai homework and taking me to visit beautiful wats. My host mother became teary eyed. Then I gave them an enlarged, framed photo of the three of us in front of about 20 golden Buddha statues at wat Lamphun. I also made a card with a mango on the front of it, because I love mangoes so much, and they joke about it all of the time. On the inside of the card I wrote thank you in Thai, Krap Kuhn Ka, and drew little pictures of things that reminded me of my time with the family (and might similarly remind my family of me). When my host mother saw the drawing of the fruit gnoc (a word I have a horrible time pronouncing), and me with a flashing headlamp, she lost it and started laughing. The laughter soon turned into tears as she looked at the other photos that I printed to give the family (a few of me in the traditional Lana outfit).

My host mother got up and gave me a hug, which is a big deal because Thai people don’t hug. I then shared an awkward hug with my host father, who I could tell wasn’t used to hugging, and began to eat dinner. My host mother had to leave the table for a few minutes to dry her tears and regain her composure. It was really dear to see her react so strongly to me leaving. I knew that she and I had bonded over lots of confusion and laughter, but I didn’t know how much she enjoyed having me around.

Dinner was a combination of comfortable silences and small talk. I felt extraordinarily proud when I understood my host father on my own for the first time in five weeks (he said that he was glad I decided to eat in, rather than go to a restaurant because the atmosphere was much more relaxed).

After dinner we did some homework. Even though Ajaan Sasitorn hadn’t assigned any homework I asked her to give me some extra work to do with my host family on our last night because they’re favorite activity is helping me with my homework. When I look back at my home-stay I will remember my host mother and father crowded around me in the evenings helping me with reading and writing. My host father’s voice saying, “Tou Tung!” (correct!) will be stuck in my head for quite a while.

The Golden Triangle

Leaving the villa we drove along a mountain range at one bend in the road I emitted a sound of awe. Ally’s host father pulled the car over and we hopped out to look at the view. With mountains on the left, I looked down at a vast valley. The view was incredible and I could see so much. In the distance Ally’s host father pointed out the golden triangle, where Thailand, Burma and Laos meet. Even though I couldn’t pin point the triangle, I was delighted to be looking out at three countries at once.

King's Mother's Villa

After visiting the temple in Chiang Rai we drove to the villa of the king’s late mother. My ears popped several times as we climbed higher and higher through the mountains. When we arrived I could hardly see more than 3 feet in front of me because of thick fog. Once again, I was in a cloud.

We walked around the exquisite garden, full of foreign flowers, as the fog cleared and sun came out. The Villa itself was large, made of wood and seemingly simplistic. In the main room there was a large photo of the king’s mother. Everyone on the tour bowed, and did the wy (hands clasped with head bowed) three times. I did it incorrectly at first, so I had to do it six times. In every photo of the king’s deceased mother she was wearing red because she was born on Sunday.

In Thailand there are certain colors to wear for each day of the week. Sunday: Red, Monday: Yellow, Tuesday: Pink, Wednesday: Green, Thursday: Blue, Friday, Black, Saturday: Purple. Every morning that I get on the song tao to go school at least two thirds of the occupants are wearing the color of the day. Wearing the color of the day, however, tends to be a tradition to which only the older generations adhere. The daily colors started as something that only members of the royal court paid attention to, but the lay people have adopted it as well.

The most impressive part of the king’s mother’s villa was the balcony that looked out over the most beautiful mountain range. The view took my breath away. I could see mountains beyond mountains with low-lying clouds in between. Walking through the gardens I looked out over a ledge and could see into a cloud. Looking up I’d never felt so close to the sky while firmly standing on the ground.

A visit to Wat Rong Khun, Chiang Rai

Saturday was a day packed full of things to do. At 6:30 in the morning joined Ally and her host family to travel to Chaing Rai—another city about 200 kilometers north. The ride through the countryside was beautiful we’d climb up mountains and then coast down. Small wats would pop up everywhere. We passed an enormous golden Buddha statue, for which the mountains made a stunning backdrop. The sole purpose of our visit to Chaing Rai was to see the Wat Rong Khun. It is a famous wat that is entirely white with many small mirrors to make it glimmer. Thailand’s most famous artist, Chalermchai Kositpipat, built the wat and there was a gallery of his art on the temple grounds. His artwork is very colorful and has a distinctive style. Some of his later pieces tackle issues like poverty, globalization and global warming, but most of his work reflects his Buddhist faith. It was interesting to see Buddhist inspired paintings, in contrast to the many Christian inspired paintings that I’ve seen in the U.S. and elsewhere.

To see his artwork: http://www.rama9art.org/chalermchai/index.html

The interior of the wat has not been finished and there were apprentices working on the painting on the wall when we went inside. On the back wall there was a finished painting of a Buddha, then a white marble Buddha mounted on the wall, a golden Buddha sitting in front of it, and then even lower there was a seated monk in meditation. We later found out that the monk was a was statue, which explains why it could sit still for so long (although I’ve seen some monks remain still for a fairly long time in the past…they train for it).

The wat was very beautiful, but I got the impression that it was something Kositpipat had done to elevate his own status. The whole complex seemed self-glorifying. There were photos of the artist everywhere and the pamphlet I picked up talks only about him and his want to make merit. Having learned about and observed Thai society, I saw it a bit differently.

Thailand has a hierarchical society, with the royal family at the top, followed by monks and then lay people. Status is everything. So what could an internationally famous artist do to attain even more status without becoming a monk and giving up the comfortable lifestyle afforded by his riches? He could build a temple! But Wat Rong Khun is not just any temple. It is one of the most complex and aesthetically pleasing wats in all of Thailand. While I am convinced that his artwork, including the design of the temple, is inspired by his Buddhist faith, I am not entirely sure that his effort to make merit is not without some other societal motive.

Wat Rang Kuhn