I am in Chai Ya for the last time before beginning my 10-day retreat at Suan Mokkh. I went in for registration early this morning, to further assure my place in the retreat and it is now official. I have a room complete with a reed mat on a concrete slab about three feet from the ground, a wooden pillow and a mosquito net. Besides sleeping and free time, everything done during the next ten days will be communal. Meals are at 8:00 a.m. and 12:30 p.m. in the dining hall; yoga, meditation and darma talks area also communal, but separated by sex, as are the dorms and eating areas (men on one side, women on the other).
The retreat is held not on the grounds of the wat, but on a separate forest monastery site across the road. The grounds consist of five dormitories which are concrete buildings divided into 2x20 ft concrete cells with windows and the afore mentioned 'bed'. There are three meditation halls, one is enclosed and the others appear to be open air. There are separate shower areas for men and women as well as hot spring areas, also separated by sex. Bathing suits are not allowed and women are expected to bath and utilize the hot springs in a sarong (Maybe it is just my lack of appropriate sarong fashioning knowledge, but if all I wear to the hot springs is a sarong, I have the very really potential of exposing a lot more than a bathing suit would. Maybe we are supposed to wear something else under it...?) There are also three ponds on the grounds as well as plenty of area to roam the grounds, but I haven't done much exploring yet because I needed to make it into town for a sarong (mine walked away on the beach) and a flashlight before the 4:00 p.m. welcome orientation.
When I first arrived, I was handed an orientation booklet explaining the practices and daily occurrences at Suan Mokkh; somewhat of a 'read this before you commit to staying here' booklet. We were also encouraged to read the rules of the retreat which include: refraining from speech; attending all discussions; signing up for and performing a daily chore; refraining from any reading or writing or listening to music (as well as almost anything else you can imagine besides thinking and bathing); refrain from eating anything besides the meals prepared for you; do not leave the grounds of the retreat; do not mix with people of the opposite sex; wear a sarong in the bathing areas and hot springs (be sure to have your shoulders - and everything else - covered at all times); dress in light, loose fitting clothing and keep your appearance neat and tidy; smile and approach every task with joy; and forget everything you've ever been taught about Buddhism and meditation and approach the lessons of Suan Mokkh with an open mind - A veritable Buddhist Boot Camp.
I was then directed to read the orientation task list, which consisting of an originally dizzying amount of things to do, but I found if I did one, went back to the board to read what I was to do next, I could get them all completed. I then sat down to read the booklet and fill out my registration form. After filling out the form, we were to have an 'interview' at the front of the hall.
The woman interviewer welcomed us and looked at our registration forms to see if we were beginner meditators and reminded us to forget everything and clear the mind for the teaching a Suan Mokkh, "because when the mind is not empty, there is no room for new information." She then talked about the importance of patience and perserverance in meditation likening meditation practice to a baby learning how to walk; "When a baby tries to stand, he will fall and cry, but he will try to stand again. The next time he falls, he does not cry, but he smiles, because he knows that he will try again. For the baby cry is cry and try is try. There is not much thinking. Eventually he learns to stand, to walk and then to run." She then talked about how we are the cause of our own suffering. She said that when someone criticizes us, we grab on to the words and allow them to frustrate us and cause pain, but if someone was speaking in another language and said the same thing, we would walk right on past, not knowing what they said, therefore not grabbing the words and allowing them to hurt us. She emphasized that it is not other people that hurt us, but that we hurt ourselves by allowing ourselves to be affected. She talked about how in daily life we allow often allow emotions to control our actions; "When you think negatively and you act negatively, what usually happens? Negative." And about how most people try to run away from negative emotions and feelings through drinking, drugs, eating, television, shopping, etc.; allowing the emotion to be stronger then their mind. She said that when we can learn to watch emotions arise in our mind and instead of running away from them we say, 'okay, you are there. I will study you' and the emotion runs away leaving us stronger than the emotion, instead of the other way around- When you don't allow yourself to immediatly react to the emotion elicited from an event, you are able to react a lot more clearly, calmly and positively. She emphasized over and over that learning to do this was hard work, but that it was important work. She signed off our sheets and said she hoped to see us in 10 days.
A lot of these concepts I have read about before, but somehow it was more powerful in this setting, coming from this woman. I was impressed and thought about how, while I am not allowed to write during the retreat, I will have to jot down brief notes to remember - I sense a lot of pearls of wisdom coming my way.
After the interview, I filled in my registration and paid my 1500 baht fee, handing all this in along with my passport. I then went to find my room, set up my mosquito net, returned to sign up for my daily chore (sweeping the walk outside the dining hall - some brave souls signed up for cleaning toilets), went to get my pillows and place them in the place in the meditation hall where I will be spending the next 10 days (I'd originally fancied a spot near the edge by the trees, but reminding myself that I was there NOT to be distracted, I reconsidered and placed my pillow on the row nearest to the center and where I could see the speaker without trying to see over someone else's head) and joined a group of fellow meditators to catch a santheaw back to Chai Ya to check email one last time and do my last minute shopping.
Signing off for 10 days. Wish me luck!
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Monday, May 30, 2005
Crabs and Domestic Violence
It apprears that saving crabs was my good dead for the day, that domestic violence is a problem in Thailand, and that I need to do something other than sit in this internet cafe tonight!
Chai Ya
After a good night's sleep, despite the rock hard bed and the chorus of bull frogs outside of my window, both of which I'm learning to expect and enjoy, I headed downstairs to begin my day. Since the retreat doesn't start until Wednesday and I don't have to be at Wat Suan Mokkh for the official registration until Tuesday (I had already signed in on Sunday), I had the day to myself. I had originally thought I would make it over to Khao Sok National Park, but one of the men who lives at the hotel told me that it was about a three hour trip, and since Steven and I plan to go down there later anyway, I decided to explore the area and save my long bus rides for my days on the road.
I had seen on the map of the area that there was a beach nearby and thought I would make my way there. I asked at the hotel which way was the best way to the beach and was told that I could take a sangthew for 5 to 8 baht from the 7-11 up the street. I thanked them and headed off.
As I walked along the road, taking in the scenery, I made a note of all of the motorbikes parked along the curbs and it struck me that this would be the perfect area to rent a bike in and tool around without having to rely on public transportation. I walked up the the nearest store with a row of bikes out front and asked if I could rent a bike for the day "Yaak chao moto-sie" (moto-sie being the Thai word for motorcycle...). After a few confused looks, a long incomprehensible conversation between the woman I had asked and a nearby gentleman, I figured out that these bikes most likely belonged to people inside the shop and that while I couldn't rent them, they were offering to take me to the beach on one of their bikes. I begged off with lots of thank yous and headed down the road, only to be ripped from my thoughts by a loud "HEY YOU!" a few minutes later. It was the woman from in front of the shop, trying to get my attention. She beckoned me over and motioned to a police officer who she had apparently asked to help. Following yet another conversation in Thai between the woman, the policeman and the now gathering crowed, it was determined, again, that the woman could take me on the back of her bike. I tried to explain that I appreciated the offer, but didn't want a ride on a bike, I had wanted to rent a bike, but since none were available, I was going to opt for a santheaw ride, which I presumed to be much cheaper than an individual motor-taxi. What probably came out of my mouth was in Thai/English was "Thank you. No. No want taxi. Thank you. Want go santheaw. Thank you. Thank you." The policeman nodded, mounted his bike and patted the back for me to get on. Having no idea what was going on, but falling back on my new travel mantras of "patience, faith in strangers and optimism," (which will soon change to 'patience,' 'optimism' and 'caution and extreme care when dealing with strangers' as I move on from Thailand to other lands) I climbed aboard. After a short trip around the corner, I was deposited in the back of a santheaw heading to the beach.
The driver repeated my destination and said, "one person?" to which I nodded, followed by "seventy baht." So much for the 5 to 8 baht I had anticipated.
I sat for a minute as we waited for more passengers, thinking to myself, "No Thai would pay 70 baht for a ride to the beach 7 km away. This is Thailand. There has got to be some entrepreneurial sole willing to rent me their bike for the day... ." Deciding on this course of action, I got out of the truck, thanked the driver (but no thanks), and made my way back to the hotel, where I managed to get the mistress of the hotel to ask her brother if he would rent his motorbike for the day.
A few minutes later, clad in sunglasses and a sturdy helmet, with a map to the beach in my pocket, I was off.
Motorbikes in Thailand are not like your Average American motorcycle. There seem to be two distinct types, automatic and manual, automatic being those that you simply rest your feet on the plastic "floor" of the bike and manual necessitating the rider to shift up and down from first to fourth gear with a clutch near the pedal. I was hoping for an automatic, but had wanted to feel more secure on a manual and since there was very little traffic here, figured this would be the perfect placed to learn. My newly acquired red bike with matching helmet was a manual and soon I was driving and up shifting like a pro - just much, much slower. With my mother on one shoulder reminding me to pay attention to the road and telling me how dangerous and risky it is to ride a motorcycle in the first place and my father on the other, telling me that you can have an accident at any speed, but you will get a lot less hurt if you are going 15 miles an hour as opposed to 40, I managed to make my way to the beach in one piece.
The beach was a beach in that it had sand and water, but that was where the basic definitions of what would think when picturing a beach shifted drastically. Between the shore and the water was exposed land that I can only describe as 'muck;' black and sticky looking, and it didn't make for an attractive view. In the distance, the water was dotted with fishing shacks on stilts and the serenity of the area was broken by the occasional longtail fishing boat heading out to sea. The stretch of beach where I parked the bike was further crowded with tables and benches sheltered by a covering of dried palm fronds.
I had planned for a leisurely morning and had brought along my portable cd player and some pre-retreat reading on Buddhism and decided on the table the furthest from the beach, but before settling in, I wanted to explore a bit and headed around tip of the beach to the other side.
Coming around the bend, I surprised two fisherman unloading nets from their boats. I said hello and they nodded and went on with their work. As I got closer to them I noticed that there were 8 or 10 horseshoe crabs lying upside down on the beach around them. Wondering what type of meal you could possibly get from a horseshoe crab, I asked, "Gin, mai?" or (eat, no?). The man shook his head. Since they obviously weren't horseshoe crab fisherman, I walked up to the nearest crab struggling to right itself, bent to provide assistance, and looked questioningly at the man, saying "dai, mai?" (can, no?). He nodded and I flipped the crab over and watched as it walked down the beach into the sand. None of the other crabs were moving and all appeared dead, but I figured it was worth a shot; so I picked the next one up, rewarded by the movement of its spiny tail. As crab number two shuffled down the beach, I went around flipping over all the crabs and watching them walk to the water. Through out all of this, the fisherman pretty much ignored me and so I presumed that what I was doing was okay. Reflecting on it later, I thought that I could have possibly just unintentionally mucked with nature by interrupting some suicidal horseshoe crab mating ritual, but rationalized that at least this way they have a choice and if they want to wash back up and flip over, it shouldn't be too hard for them to do.
After my crab salvation exercise, I made my way back to the bench and spent the morning reading up on "oneness" and "attachment" according to the Buddhist Philosophy. After a few short pages, I decided that maybe I don't want to be Buddhist (no offense Nary - we'll have to talk more about this one! :) There are a few things that I just can't reconcile with my current beliefs, such as the whole idea of the need to release oneself from attachment in order to find peace. I understand that because I am attached to my friends and my family, that being apart from them cause suffering, but it is a suffering I am willing to endure for the joy and peace that having them in my life brings. I also believe that I am here, not to find away to ease my own suffering, but to find a way to ease others. I had somewhat of a spiritual revelation and decided to look into Unitarian Universalism which greatly appeals to me because they believe in the inherent worth and dignity of every person; justice, equity and compassion in human relations; acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth; a free and responsible search for truth and meaning; the right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within congregations and in society at large; the goal of world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all; and respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part. And, of course, because it holds true to many of the positive aspects of Christianty with which I was raised.
(Sorry to veer from the topic of travel, but I think it is these days of quiet contemplation in a new place that can help you get the most out of the experience, which includes these philosophical tangents. The next time, I will name the post "philosophical tangent" in warning).
After my religious musings, still committed to an open mind and a quest for understanding during my upcoming retreat, I packed up and headed back to Chai Ya. I spent the afternoon riding up and down rural roads between flooded rice fields, and lazy cows and buffalo muching on grass in vibrant green fields; torn from my journey only by the ominous, yet strikingly beautiful, approaching dark clouds of rain.
I had seen on the map of the area that there was a beach nearby and thought I would make my way there. I asked at the hotel which way was the best way to the beach and was told that I could take a sangthew for 5 to 8 baht from the 7-11 up the street. I thanked them and headed off.
As I walked along the road, taking in the scenery, I made a note of all of the motorbikes parked along the curbs and it struck me that this would be the perfect area to rent a bike in and tool around without having to rely on public transportation. I walked up the the nearest store with a row of bikes out front and asked if I could rent a bike for the day "Yaak chao moto-sie" (moto-sie being the Thai word for motorcycle...). After a few confused looks, a long incomprehensible conversation between the woman I had asked and a nearby gentleman, I figured out that these bikes most likely belonged to people inside the shop and that while I couldn't rent them, they were offering to take me to the beach on one of their bikes. I begged off with lots of thank yous and headed down the road, only to be ripped from my thoughts by a loud "HEY YOU!" a few minutes later. It was the woman from in front of the shop, trying to get my attention. She beckoned me over and motioned to a police officer who she had apparently asked to help. Following yet another conversation in Thai between the woman, the policeman and the now gathering crowed, it was determined, again, that the woman could take me on the back of her bike. I tried to explain that I appreciated the offer, but didn't want a ride on a bike, I had wanted to rent a bike, but since none were available, I was going to opt for a santheaw ride, which I presumed to be much cheaper than an individual motor-taxi. What probably came out of my mouth was in Thai/English was "Thank you. No. No want taxi. Thank you. Want go santheaw. Thank you. Thank you." The policeman nodded, mounted his bike and patted the back for me to get on. Having no idea what was going on, but falling back on my new travel mantras of "patience, faith in strangers and optimism," (which will soon change to 'patience,' 'optimism' and 'caution and extreme care when dealing with strangers' as I move on from Thailand to other lands) I climbed aboard. After a short trip around the corner, I was deposited in the back of a santheaw heading to the beach.
The driver repeated my destination and said, "one person?" to which I nodded, followed by "seventy baht." So much for the 5 to 8 baht I had anticipated.
I sat for a minute as we waited for more passengers, thinking to myself, "No Thai would pay 70 baht for a ride to the beach 7 km away. This is Thailand. There has got to be some entrepreneurial sole willing to rent me their bike for the day... ." Deciding on this course of action, I got out of the truck, thanked the driver (but no thanks), and made my way back to the hotel, where I managed to get the mistress of the hotel to ask her brother if he would rent his motorbike for the day.
A few minutes later, clad in sunglasses and a sturdy helmet, with a map to the beach in my pocket, I was off.
Motorbikes in Thailand are not like your Average American motorcycle. There seem to be two distinct types, automatic and manual, automatic being those that you simply rest your feet on the plastic "floor" of the bike and manual necessitating the rider to shift up and down from first to fourth gear with a clutch near the pedal. I was hoping for an automatic, but had wanted to feel more secure on a manual and since there was very little traffic here, figured this would be the perfect placed to learn. My newly acquired red bike with matching helmet was a manual and soon I was driving and up shifting like a pro - just much, much slower. With my mother on one shoulder reminding me to pay attention to the road and telling me how dangerous and risky it is to ride a motorcycle in the first place and my father on the other, telling me that you can have an accident at any speed, but you will get a lot less hurt if you are going 15 miles an hour as opposed to 40, I managed to make my way to the beach in one piece.
The beach was a beach in that it had sand and water, but that was where the basic definitions of what would think when picturing a beach shifted drastically. Between the shore and the water was exposed land that I can only describe as 'muck;' black and sticky looking, and it didn't make for an attractive view. In the distance, the water was dotted with fishing shacks on stilts and the serenity of the area was broken by the occasional longtail fishing boat heading out to sea. The stretch of beach where I parked the bike was further crowded with tables and benches sheltered by a covering of dried palm fronds.
I had planned for a leisurely morning and had brought along my portable cd player and some pre-retreat reading on Buddhism and decided on the table the furthest from the beach, but before settling in, I wanted to explore a bit and headed around tip of the beach to the other side.
Coming around the bend, I surprised two fisherman unloading nets from their boats. I said hello and they nodded and went on with their work. As I got closer to them I noticed that there were 8 or 10 horseshoe crabs lying upside down on the beach around them. Wondering what type of meal you could possibly get from a horseshoe crab, I asked, "Gin, mai?" or (eat, no?). The man shook his head. Since they obviously weren't horseshoe crab fisherman, I walked up to the nearest crab struggling to right itself, bent to provide assistance, and looked questioningly at the man, saying "dai, mai?" (can, no?). He nodded and I flipped the crab over and watched as it walked down the beach into the sand. None of the other crabs were moving and all appeared dead, but I figured it was worth a shot; so I picked the next one up, rewarded by the movement of its spiny tail. As crab number two shuffled down the beach, I went around flipping over all the crabs and watching them walk to the water. Through out all of this, the fisherman pretty much ignored me and so I presumed that what I was doing was okay. Reflecting on it later, I thought that I could have possibly just unintentionally mucked with nature by interrupting some suicidal horseshoe crab mating ritual, but rationalized that at least this way they have a choice and if they want to wash back up and flip over, it shouldn't be too hard for them to do.
After my crab salvation exercise, I made my way back to the bench and spent the morning reading up on "oneness" and "attachment" according to the Buddhist Philosophy. After a few short pages, I decided that maybe I don't want to be Buddhist (no offense Nary - we'll have to talk more about this one! :) There are a few things that I just can't reconcile with my current beliefs, such as the whole idea of the need to release oneself from attachment in order to find peace. I understand that because I am attached to my friends and my family, that being apart from them cause suffering, but it is a suffering I am willing to endure for the joy and peace that having them in my life brings. I also believe that I am here, not to find away to ease my own suffering, but to find a way to ease others. I had somewhat of a spiritual revelation and decided to look into Unitarian Universalism which greatly appeals to me because they believe in the inherent worth and dignity of every person; justice, equity and compassion in human relations; acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth; a free and responsible search for truth and meaning; the right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within congregations and in society at large; the goal of world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all; and respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are a part. And, of course, because it holds true to many of the positive aspects of Christianty with which I was raised.
(Sorry to veer from the topic of travel, but I think it is these days of quiet contemplation in a new place that can help you get the most out of the experience, which includes these philosophical tangents. The next time, I will name the post "philosophical tangent" in warning).
After my religious musings, still committed to an open mind and a quest for understanding during my upcoming retreat, I packed up and headed back to Chai Ya. I spent the afternoon riding up and down rural roads between flooded rice fields, and lazy cows and buffalo muching on grass in vibrant green fields; torn from my journey only by the ominous, yet strikingly beautiful, approaching dark clouds of rain.
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Adventures at the Bus Stop
After leaving Immigration, I hailed a santheaw to the bus station, where I was directed to the bench in the side of the road. I was told that the next bus would arrive in half an hour, at 12:30 p.m. I thanked the man and headed to the bus stop (but not after emailing a quick note to my parents to let them know that I had made it across the border and back safely).
12:30 came and went and I decided to get lunch from the nearby food staff while I wanted. Figuring that since I am now on my own, out from the protective environment of the CCS house, I should try to get by using less English and more Thai, I ordered my lunch in Thai (Kor ka-pow gai noi, ka) and returned to the bus stop to wait. And wait. And wait.
Around 1:00, having eaten and had a brief conversation with a man waiting for the bus, who, although he nodded affirmatively to my confession that I only spoke a little Thai, talked to me non-stop in Thai for about 15 minutes (I guess my active listen skills are very convincing). As I took out my Thai phrase book, deciding to get in a little study time, I was approached by three high-school aged Thai girls, who politely asked if they could interview me for a project. I agreed and they proceeded to ask me, in English, my name, where I was from, why I was in Ranong, my favorite Thai food, and my opinion of Thailand. Apparently, one of the high school classes in Ranong had all been given this assignment, because for the next hour I was approached by four other students wanting similar interviews.
On a less positive note, the Thai man who had spoken with me earlier had a woman with him who was very affectionate to him, which was strange to see in that public displays of affection between middle aged Thais is uncommon if not nonexistent. At one point, I heard a slapping sound and looked up to see what could have been him retracting his hand after delivering a slap. She didn't seem upset, so I wrote it off as a mistaken assumption, but it happened again at least twice in the next few minutes, each time without me actually witnessing the slap. It occurred to me that his could very possibly be the couple from this morning, but she didn't look like she had been recently battered. Another explanation could be that such domestic violence is more common, and accepted(?) than I had thought. I realized that there is probably a lot that I missed in my sheltered existence at CCS.
Finally at 2:00, the man who sold me my lunch and a taxi driver who had joked with me about driving me to Chai Ya to the temple for 1800 baht, both yelled out, "Surat, Surat, Farang, Farang" to alert me to the fact that my bus had arrived. I smiled and thanked them all and boarded my fifth mode of transportation for the day.
The bus to Chai Ya was not much more than a tin can on wheels posing as a local bus. The impact of every stone on the ride from Ranong to Chai Ya made its way up through the shock deprived body of the bus into my bones with every turn of the wheels. Larger rocks, caused the seats to rattle on their frames as if they would come unattached and splay all over the road with the wreckage of what used to be the body of the bus, at any moment. But after my journey and successive morning trips, exhausted and dirty, I simply laid back on my padded bench for three, put on my head phones, fashioned a raincoat pillow for my head and smiled content with myself for a productive day and feeling very much suited to this crazy, unpredictable life on the road.
12:30 came and went and I decided to get lunch from the nearby food staff while I wanted. Figuring that since I am now on my own, out from the protective environment of the CCS house, I should try to get by using less English and more Thai, I ordered my lunch in Thai (Kor ka-pow gai noi, ka) and returned to the bus stop to wait. And wait. And wait.
Around 1:00, having eaten and had a brief conversation with a man waiting for the bus, who, although he nodded affirmatively to my confession that I only spoke a little Thai, talked to me non-stop in Thai for about 15 minutes (I guess my active listen skills are very convincing). As I took out my Thai phrase book, deciding to get in a little study time, I was approached by three high-school aged Thai girls, who politely asked if they could interview me for a project. I agreed and they proceeded to ask me, in English, my name, where I was from, why I was in Ranong, my favorite Thai food, and my opinion of Thailand. Apparently, one of the high school classes in Ranong had all been given this assignment, because for the next hour I was approached by four other students wanting similar interviews.
On a less positive note, the Thai man who had spoken with me earlier had a woman with him who was very affectionate to him, which was strange to see in that public displays of affection between middle aged Thais is uncommon if not nonexistent. At one point, I heard a slapping sound and looked up to see what could have been him retracting his hand after delivering a slap. She didn't seem upset, so I wrote it off as a mistaken assumption, but it happened again at least twice in the next few minutes, each time without me actually witnessing the slap. It occurred to me that his could very possibly be the couple from this morning, but she didn't look like she had been recently battered. Another explanation could be that such domestic violence is more common, and accepted(?) than I had thought. I realized that there is probably a lot that I missed in my sheltered existence at CCS.
Finally at 2:00, the man who sold me my lunch and a taxi driver who had joked with me about driving me to Chai Ya to the temple for 1800 baht, both yelled out, "Surat, Surat, Farang, Farang" to alert me to the fact that my bus had arrived. I smiled and thanked them all and boarded my fifth mode of transportation for the day.
The bus to Chai Ya was not much more than a tin can on wheels posing as a local bus. The impact of every stone on the ride from Ranong to Chai Ya made its way up through the shock deprived body of the bus into my bones with every turn of the wheels. Larger rocks, caused the seats to rattle on their frames as if they would come unattached and splay all over the road with the wreckage of what used to be the body of the bus, at any moment. But after my journey and successive morning trips, exhausted and dirty, I simply laid back on my padded bench for three, put on my head phones, fashioned a raincoat pillow for my head and smiled content with myself for a productive day and feeling very much suited to this crazy, unpredictable life on the road.
VISA Run
I left the house in Thonburi at 10:00 p.m. to catch my 10:50 train to Chumpon. For the past 7 weeks, I've watched as people have written their farewells on the board in the kitchen, but hadn't thought ahead to doing it myself until I was packed and ready to head out of the gate. It was hard to say goodbye knowing I wouldn't be back. I walked out to the street to the cab, saying goodbye to the chorus of bullfrogs and my home for the past 10 weeks.
My train left at 10:50 p.m. and was to arrive at Chumpon at 5:55 a.m. the following day. Even though I had booked early, there were no second class sleeper cars available and I had to settle for a second class seated aircon car. I figured that it couldn't be that bad because the seats in the picture looked comfortable and it was only 7 hours - I'd done worse.
Unfortunately, not much worse.
I was in the first row facing the wall at the front of car #4 and while I had a foot rest, I had no seat in front of me to rest my knees on, which is how I usually manage to get comfortable in small spaces. I couldn't rest against the window because the space between the window and the seat was too large, so my only option was to sleep sitting up in a chair that didn't recline. While some people can manage this, simply letting their head flop to one side, I haven't quite been able to perfect it and so every time I fell a asleep, my head would jerk to the side and wake me up. I tried to curl up in the chair facing the window using my neighbor as a back rest (unintentionally, of course), but that only lasted for so long before he would shift and I would fall over and have to resume my ramrod strait position, settling for brief lapses into sleep, followed by a rude awakening and the realization that I was still in this uncomfortable seat and there was no reprieve at hand. I think in all, out of 7 hours, I got about 45 minutes of sleep.
Finally, my seat mate looked over at me and said, "Chumpon," as my cue to disembark and I gathered up my bags and blearily made my way off the train into the station.
From Chumpon, I had to get a bus to Ranong where I would catch a boat across to Myanmar/Burma, but before I even had time to get my bearings, I was approached by a motor-taxi driver asking me where I wanted to go. Before I could answer, he asked, "VISA?" I smiled and nodded and asked him if he could point me in the direction of the bus station. He told me that the bus wouldn't be leaving for a few hours, but that I could get a mini-bus leaving in 30 minutes. I thanked him and headed in the direction he indicated.
As I was walking along the road alongside the train tracks, I noticed that there was some sort of scuffle between a man near the tracks and someone lying on the ground. There was a cart near by blocking my view, so I couldn't tell if it were real or if it were two people playing around. I noticed that the people in the shops on the other side of the road were all standing at the edges of their shops watching the spectacle. As I continued along the road, I saw that it was a man, on top of a woman and he had her pinned to the rocky ground and appeared to be strangling her. I was shocked and didn't know what to do because no one else seemed to be doing anything. He then began smacking her in the face and punching her. When she finally got up, he gave her a flying kick to the head, almost knocking her down. I looked beseechingly at the men watching from afar, but they just stood by passively. Using my rudimentary Thai, I said, "mai dii, (not good)" to a man sitting near by, to which he just chuckled and shook his head. I looked around for anyone official looking, like a police man, but no one was around. Just then, the motor-taxi driver from the train station pulled up and bade me get in saying he would take me to the mini-bus stop. I turned back to look at the woman and looked at him motioning to the couple, but he simply took my hand and helped me into the back of the truck. Still in a bit of shock, I asked the other western woman in the back of the truck if she had seen the fight, to which she replied that she hadn't, and to my incredulity at the lack of intervention by the onlookers, she replied that recently in Holland, men had been killed for breaking up a fight like that. Paralyzed by my inability to do anything and ashamed that concern for my own personal safety over-rode my ability to help this woman, I sat back and let them drive me off.
When I arrived at the guest house/tour office, I told the man about what I had seen and asked him why no one would help her. He replied that the Thai's are a peaceful people. I accepted his answer because I had no other choice, but assuming that the man battering the woman, was most likely Thai and that peaceful doesn't simply equate to passivity towards violence, I don't think that that is an excuse. I want to talk to someone at CCS or HAT about this situation and see what they think I should have done.
The man at the tour office said that his mini-bus had left already, but that he would take me over to another operation with a van leaving at 7:00 a.m. I hoped on the back of his bike, feeling a little more confident since my first ride in Kanchanaburi and let him take me to another tour operator where I paid 100 baht for my ticket and headed across the street for a breakfast of chicken, green beans and chili over rice. Using my few Thai words, I asked the man, "Gin tee nun dai, mai? (Can I eat in there?) motioning to the tables inside. He replied affirmatively and I sat down to breakfast.
The ride to Ranong was a scenic drive through curving mountain roads. The van was packed with Thai's and I took the last seat, next to a young Thai man with a big cardboard box on his lap. Happy to be sitting in a relatively comfortable seat, I leaned back and soon found myself drifting off. A few seconds later, I awoke to the sound of my own skull cracking against the window. I was destined to continue the day on 45 minutes of sleep.
When we arrived in Ranong, the driver stopped and told me that I would need to take a taxi to Immigration. I thanked him and commandeered the nearest motor-taxi driver to take me the rest of the way.
At the immigration office, I simply walked in, handed my passport to the man behind the sign marked, "departures," who filled out a form, and stamped my passport with an exit stamp. As I waked out of the building, I was approached by yet another motor-taxi driver, who asked me if I needed a boat to Burma. I replied that I did and asked him how much it cost. He said that if I went then, just one person, it would cost 300 baht (about 8 USD). Thinking that I could do better by simply getting on a public boat, I told him that I would think about it, but that I wanted to see what the situation was like at the pier. As with most offers, when walked away from, his immediately was up for discussion. "How much you pay?" he asked me. Not knowing how much a boat ride was worth and not wanting this man to waste his time taking me over for whatever I was willing to pay when he could take a group for more, if I wanted, I told him that I had time to wait and could wait for him to find more people, but that I would wait for him at the pier. He agreed and motioned to another man with him, apparently for him to escort me to the pier. As we walked away, the new man said to me, "How much you pay? You pay 50 baht? 50 baht each way. 100 baht total?" Feeling that this was fair, I agreed and hopped on the back of yet another motor scooter, to a nearby pier.
The pier was packed with longtail boats awaiting their cargo, most likely foreigners making VISA runs to Myanmar/Burma. In order to get to my new guide's boat, we had to walk over four other boats, finally settling in his. It was an old wooden boat about three times the size of your average canoe (in width - about twice in length) with a small propeller at the end of a metal pole that served as the engine and the steering apparatus. We were joined by a boy about 12 whose job it was to drive the boat, and we were off.
This part of Thailand is quite mountainous, as is the opposite southeastern coast of Myanmar/Burma, giving me a backdrop of hazy green and blue mountain ranges on either side. Traditional Thai river houses on stilts lined the bank and a small army of longtail boats surrounded us on either leg of their journey, filling their air with the staccato sound of their grinding motors.
Our first stop was a Thai immigration point, where my guide (I asked his name , but have promptly forgotten it) asked for my passport, which he took from me and ran up the ladder out of sight. Not that it hadn't crossed my mind before, but again, the realization of just how much faith in strangers is involved in travel, was once again poignant. A few minutes later, he returned with a nod to me and another to the boy, handed me my passport and we were off.
About halfway to the other coast, we stopped again at a large wooden boat housing "the Army," where again, he asked for my passport, disappeared up the side of the boat and returned again with a nod and a smile.
The journey to the other side, took about 30 minutes, during which I sat back and took in the beauty of the surrounding mountains, the clear blue of the sky and the endless stream of longtail boats crossing back and forth between piers. We arrived at the Myanmar/Burmese immigration point, where I handed over $5 and my passport, which was granted an entry stamp and returned.
About 10 minutes later, we were at the pier, where I again clambered over various other longtail boats to the shore, where I was granted (having asked for) 30 minutes to wander around before getting my exit stamp and making the whole trip in reverse. Just seconds after stepping on the concrete pier, I was joined by an entourage of five Burmese boys ranging in age from 18 to about 10. One of the older boys told me that he would show me around to the market and I accepted his offer. For the next 30 minutes, I walked around, chatting with the boys about their lives and what they did all day (mostly leading tourists around, one admitting that he didn't go to school anymore because his mother was having money difficulties and then proceeding to tell me that he was bad because he smoked too much and drank too much whiskey). I would have like to purchase some gifts, especially some jade jewelry which Burma/Myanmar is known for, but I as I am on a budget and I had just packed up all of my things the previous day, realizing that I already need an extra bag to get home, I passed and simply tipped the boys, got my stamp and headed back to Thailand.
The trip back was uneventful after tipping my guide and the boy who drove the boat, I walked over to immigration, by passed the "VISA Run Tour Group" in the departure line and received my 30 day extension at the arrival counter, allowing me legal residence in Thailand until June 27th.
My train left at 10:50 p.m. and was to arrive at Chumpon at 5:55 a.m. the following day. Even though I had booked early, there were no second class sleeper cars available and I had to settle for a second class seated aircon car. I figured that it couldn't be that bad because the seats in the picture looked comfortable and it was only 7 hours - I'd done worse.
Unfortunately, not much worse.
I was in the first row facing the wall at the front of car #4 and while I had a foot rest, I had no seat in front of me to rest my knees on, which is how I usually manage to get comfortable in small spaces. I couldn't rest against the window because the space between the window and the seat was too large, so my only option was to sleep sitting up in a chair that didn't recline. While some people can manage this, simply letting their head flop to one side, I haven't quite been able to perfect it and so every time I fell a asleep, my head would jerk to the side and wake me up. I tried to curl up in the chair facing the window using my neighbor as a back rest (unintentionally, of course), but that only lasted for so long before he would shift and I would fall over and have to resume my ramrod strait position, settling for brief lapses into sleep, followed by a rude awakening and the realization that I was still in this uncomfortable seat and there was no reprieve at hand. I think in all, out of 7 hours, I got about 45 minutes of sleep.
Finally, my seat mate looked over at me and said, "Chumpon," as my cue to disembark and I gathered up my bags and blearily made my way off the train into the station.
From Chumpon, I had to get a bus to Ranong where I would catch a boat across to Myanmar/Burma, but before I even had time to get my bearings, I was approached by a motor-taxi driver asking me where I wanted to go. Before I could answer, he asked, "VISA?" I smiled and nodded and asked him if he could point me in the direction of the bus station. He told me that the bus wouldn't be leaving for a few hours, but that I could get a mini-bus leaving in 30 minutes. I thanked him and headed in the direction he indicated.
As I was walking along the road alongside the train tracks, I noticed that there was some sort of scuffle between a man near the tracks and someone lying on the ground. There was a cart near by blocking my view, so I couldn't tell if it were real or if it were two people playing around. I noticed that the people in the shops on the other side of the road were all standing at the edges of their shops watching the spectacle. As I continued along the road, I saw that it was a man, on top of a woman and he had her pinned to the rocky ground and appeared to be strangling her. I was shocked and didn't know what to do because no one else seemed to be doing anything. He then began smacking her in the face and punching her. When she finally got up, he gave her a flying kick to the head, almost knocking her down. I looked beseechingly at the men watching from afar, but they just stood by passively. Using my rudimentary Thai, I said, "mai dii, (not good)" to a man sitting near by, to which he just chuckled and shook his head. I looked around for anyone official looking, like a police man, but no one was around. Just then, the motor-taxi driver from the train station pulled up and bade me get in saying he would take me to the mini-bus stop. I turned back to look at the woman and looked at him motioning to the couple, but he simply took my hand and helped me into the back of the truck. Still in a bit of shock, I asked the other western woman in the back of the truck if she had seen the fight, to which she replied that she hadn't, and to my incredulity at the lack of intervention by the onlookers, she replied that recently in Holland, men had been killed for breaking up a fight like that. Paralyzed by my inability to do anything and ashamed that concern for my own personal safety over-rode my ability to help this woman, I sat back and let them drive me off.
When I arrived at the guest house/tour office, I told the man about what I had seen and asked him why no one would help her. He replied that the Thai's are a peaceful people. I accepted his answer because I had no other choice, but assuming that the man battering the woman, was most likely Thai and that peaceful doesn't simply equate to passivity towards violence, I don't think that that is an excuse. I want to talk to someone at CCS or HAT about this situation and see what they think I should have done.
The man at the tour office said that his mini-bus had left already, but that he would take me over to another operation with a van leaving at 7:00 a.m. I hoped on the back of his bike, feeling a little more confident since my first ride in Kanchanaburi and let him take me to another tour operator where I paid 100 baht for my ticket and headed across the street for a breakfast of chicken, green beans and chili over rice. Using my few Thai words, I asked the man, "Gin tee nun dai, mai? (Can I eat in there?) motioning to the tables inside. He replied affirmatively and I sat down to breakfast.
The ride to Ranong was a scenic drive through curving mountain roads. The van was packed with Thai's and I took the last seat, next to a young Thai man with a big cardboard box on his lap. Happy to be sitting in a relatively comfortable seat, I leaned back and soon found myself drifting off. A few seconds later, I awoke to the sound of my own skull cracking against the window. I was destined to continue the day on 45 minutes of sleep.
When we arrived in Ranong, the driver stopped and told me that I would need to take a taxi to Immigration. I thanked him and commandeered the nearest motor-taxi driver to take me the rest of the way.
At the immigration office, I simply walked in, handed my passport to the man behind the sign marked, "departures," who filled out a form, and stamped my passport with an exit stamp. As I waked out of the building, I was approached by yet another motor-taxi driver, who asked me if I needed a boat to Burma. I replied that I did and asked him how much it cost. He said that if I went then, just one person, it would cost 300 baht (about 8 USD). Thinking that I could do better by simply getting on a public boat, I told him that I would think about it, but that I wanted to see what the situation was like at the pier. As with most offers, when walked away from, his immediately was up for discussion. "How much you pay?" he asked me. Not knowing how much a boat ride was worth and not wanting this man to waste his time taking me over for whatever I was willing to pay when he could take a group for more, if I wanted, I told him that I had time to wait and could wait for him to find more people, but that I would wait for him at the pier. He agreed and motioned to another man with him, apparently for him to escort me to the pier. As we walked away, the new man said to me, "How much you pay? You pay 50 baht? 50 baht each way. 100 baht total?" Feeling that this was fair, I agreed and hopped on the back of yet another motor scooter, to a nearby pier.
The pier was packed with longtail boats awaiting their cargo, most likely foreigners making VISA runs to Myanmar/Burma. In order to get to my new guide's boat, we had to walk over four other boats, finally settling in his. It was an old wooden boat about three times the size of your average canoe (in width - about twice in length) with a small propeller at the end of a metal pole that served as the engine and the steering apparatus. We were joined by a boy about 12 whose job it was to drive the boat, and we were off.
This part of Thailand is quite mountainous, as is the opposite southeastern coast of Myanmar/Burma, giving me a backdrop of hazy green and blue mountain ranges on either side. Traditional Thai river houses on stilts lined the bank and a small army of longtail boats surrounded us on either leg of their journey, filling their air with the staccato sound of their grinding motors.
Our first stop was a Thai immigration point, where my guide (I asked his name , but have promptly forgotten it) asked for my passport, which he took from me and ran up the ladder out of sight. Not that it hadn't crossed my mind before, but again, the realization of just how much faith in strangers is involved in travel, was once again poignant. A few minutes later, he returned with a nod to me and another to the boy, handed me my passport and we were off.
About halfway to the other coast, we stopped again at a large wooden boat housing "the Army," where again, he asked for my passport, disappeared up the side of the boat and returned again with a nod and a smile.
The journey to the other side, took about 30 minutes, during which I sat back and took in the beauty of the surrounding mountains, the clear blue of the sky and the endless stream of longtail boats crossing back and forth between piers. We arrived at the Myanmar/Burmese immigration point, where I handed over $5 and my passport, which was granted an entry stamp and returned.
About 10 minutes later, we were at the pier, where I again clambered over various other longtail boats to the shore, where I was granted (having asked for) 30 minutes to wander around before getting my exit stamp and making the whole trip in reverse. Just seconds after stepping on the concrete pier, I was joined by an entourage of five Burmese boys ranging in age from 18 to about 10. One of the older boys told me that he would show me around to the market and I accepted his offer. For the next 30 minutes, I walked around, chatting with the boys about their lives and what they did all day (mostly leading tourists around, one admitting that he didn't go to school anymore because his mother was having money difficulties and then proceeding to tell me that he was bad because he smoked too much and drank too much whiskey). I would have like to purchase some gifts, especially some jade jewelry which Burma/Myanmar is known for, but I as I am on a budget and I had just packed up all of my things the previous day, realizing that I already need an extra bag to get home, I passed and simply tipped the boys, got my stamp and headed back to Thailand.
The trip back was uneventful after tipping my guide and the boy who drove the boat, I walked over to immigration, by passed the "VISA Run Tour Group" in the departure line and received my 30 day extension at the arrival counter, allowing me legal residence in Thailand until June 27th.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Friday
Since changing my tickets with Delta, I had to go to the Delta office to pick up new paper copies and turn in my old tickets. I planned to meet everyone for Badminton at 3:00, so I left at 10:30 a.m. giving myself enough time to navigate through the transportation jungle that is Bangkok, to get to the Delta office by 1:00 p.m. and back to HAT by 3:00.
Just thinking about getting anything done in Bangkok makes me tired. Whereas at home, I would simply jump in my car, drive to my destination, do what I had to do and still have time to hit the park for a run, the farmers' market for groceries and be home in time to watch the news; here, it is a much more trying ordeal. Luckily for me, the Delta office is in a building near a sky train stop, so I could cut out one leg of the trip. I left the house at 10:30, determined to check my email, buy some cards and flowers for the HAT staff, find lunch on the road and make it to the Delta office by 1:00, when they re-opened after lunch.
One option open to me would have been to hop in a cab at the corner of our street and pay 100+ bhat to sit in traffic for an hour. I chose the other option, which although possibly similar in duration, was much more appealing to my wallet and my sense of adventure. So I headed to the nearest pier, hopped on a ferry across the river, took the river taxi to the skytrain and the skytrain to the third stop, nearest to the Delta office. Arriving at noon, I had an hour to get lunch and find some cards.
The Delta office is in a very tall office building in an area of the city with its share of very tall office buildings. Unlike other areas of Bangkok, the sidewalks were clear, absent their hoards of souvenir hawkers, food stalls, lottery ticket touts and other assorted merchandise sellers. Looking around, I thought my best bet would be to get my tickets and catch the sky train to another part of town for cards and food, but I decided to take some time to look around first, rationalizing that I had yet to be anywhere in Bangkok where I had to look very hard for some tasty grilled squid dipped in chili sauce or my favorite treat of crispy fried bananas.
I picked a direction and soon found myself rewarded by a small alley filled with carts, leading to a pretty decent sized market hidden in the midst of all the gleaming marble and steel, complete with fried squid and chilies, and a store filled with greeting cards.
At one o'clock, I was full, stocked and sitting in the Delta airline office waiting for my renewal tickets.
By three, having opted for the sky train and then a cab ride to HAT, I was back at the office, being loaded down with yet more gifts and driven off to 'My House' to play Badminton.
After a rousing hour of Badminton, complete with hysterics and hearty yells of "mai di" (no good!) every time someone missed a shot or botched a serve, I was saying yet another goodbye, eschewing the traditional Thai wai for a good American hug and heading back to CCS to pack and get ready for the next leg of my journey.
Just thinking about getting anything done in Bangkok makes me tired. Whereas at home, I would simply jump in my car, drive to my destination, do what I had to do and still have time to hit the park for a run, the farmers' market for groceries and be home in time to watch the news; here, it is a much more trying ordeal. Luckily for me, the Delta office is in a building near a sky train stop, so I could cut out one leg of the trip. I left the house at 10:30, determined to check my email, buy some cards and flowers for the HAT staff, find lunch on the road and make it to the Delta office by 1:00, when they re-opened after lunch.
One option open to me would have been to hop in a cab at the corner of our street and pay 100+ bhat to sit in traffic for an hour. I chose the other option, which although possibly similar in duration, was much more appealing to my wallet and my sense of adventure. So I headed to the nearest pier, hopped on a ferry across the river, took the river taxi to the skytrain and the skytrain to the third stop, nearest to the Delta office. Arriving at noon, I had an hour to get lunch and find some cards.
The Delta office is in a very tall office building in an area of the city with its share of very tall office buildings. Unlike other areas of Bangkok, the sidewalks were clear, absent their hoards of souvenir hawkers, food stalls, lottery ticket touts and other assorted merchandise sellers. Looking around, I thought my best bet would be to get my tickets and catch the sky train to another part of town for cards and food, but I decided to take some time to look around first, rationalizing that I had yet to be anywhere in Bangkok where I had to look very hard for some tasty grilled squid dipped in chili sauce or my favorite treat of crispy fried bananas.
I picked a direction and soon found myself rewarded by a small alley filled with carts, leading to a pretty decent sized market hidden in the midst of all the gleaming marble and steel, complete with fried squid and chilies, and a store filled with greeting cards.
At one o'clock, I was full, stocked and sitting in the Delta airline office waiting for my renewal tickets.
By three, having opted for the sky train and then a cab ride to HAT, I was back at the office, being loaded down with yet more gifts and driven off to 'My House' to play Badminton.
After a rousing hour of Badminton, complete with hysterics and hearty yells of "mai di" (no good!) every time someone missed a shot or botched a serve, I was saying yet another goodbye, eschewing the traditional Thai wai for a good American hug and heading back to CCS to pack and get ready for the next leg of my journey.
My Last Day at HAT
Yesterday was my last day at HAT and I spent it wrapping up the brochure, taking pictures and showing Pong where I live on the map. For my last day, we were all going out to dinner and at 4:00 p.m. we packed into the van and headed to Pla Yoonyen, an outdoor patio seafood restaurant with an enormous statue of a fish in the front.
The one thing that I have succeeded immersing myself in during my stay in Thailand is the art of the Thai meal. I am a pro. Thai's don't eat with chopsticks (unless it is soup and then they use them to eat the noodles out of the soup) but with a spoon and a fork, using the spoon as we would a fork and the fork as we would a knife. Meals are family style and everyone starts out with a big plate of rice. Instead of passing around all of the dishes and loading up their plates as we would do, they take a small spoonful at a time and eat it with rice until they are through and then move on to the next dish. Napkins, in Thailand, either do not exist, or are hoarded by the an elite minority, because every table in Thailand is adorned with a toilet paper holder and a role of toilet paper - which comes in very handy during those times when you need to blow your nose or mop your brow, because for the most part Thai food is HOT.
I was at the end of the table across from Usana, who managed to assure that my plate was never empty and next to Sua who kept up a running commentary, letting me know what everyone was talking about, which for the most part, was the Thai Beer girl in the skimpy dress in the bar behind me. Next to Usana was Moo, then Khun Sippon, the director, Vikram and Noi. Champ was next to Sua with Moo and Fawn next to him.
Our first course was a baked fish of some sort, served hole (head and all) with a pepper sauce. Two fish were placed in the center of the table and everyone just dug in with their forks. Next came the Chinese dim sum and som tum (spicy papaya salad - delicious!) and more fish - steamed this time. As with the other Thai meals out I've attended, once the dishes start coming, they just keep coming. After the fish came the som tum with crab (From Sua, "you might not want to eat that; some of them have bad diseases"); tom yum kung, oyster omelet, stir fried morning glory... Our ever attentive waitress kept my glass full, my plate full of rice and Unsana made sure I had a taste of everything at least three times. Everything was delicious, but there is only so much a person can eat! I began to leave a little of everything on my plate just to assure that it wouldn't be refilled.
When everyone started slowing down, they began electing people to speak and asked Fawn to speak for the first floor and Champ to speak for the second floor. Fawn came over to me and told me that she was so happy that I had come, thanked me for everything I had done, said she was going to miss me and wished me the best of luck in my travels. She then handed me a gift. Champ went next and echoed her sentiments in his own shy way, handing me yet another gift. Soon everyone was getting up and wanting to talk and by the time they were through, I was almost in tears and loaded down with gifts. When they asked if I wanted to speak, I said that I did. I thanked them for their kindness and told them how lucky I felt to have had the privildege of getting to know them all. I told them how when I started, I was scared and unsure about how I was going to work in an office full of strangers who spoke another language, but how after just a few days, they had made me feel welcome and howthey now all felt like good friends. I cried, they clapped and we all took a group photo.
After dinner, we all said our goodbyes, but they weren't tearful goodbyes, only cheerful "see you tomorrows" because I since I hate goodbyes and was not ready to leave my new friends, I had made plans to play Badminton with them the next day.
The one thing that I have succeeded immersing myself in during my stay in Thailand is the art of the Thai meal. I am a pro. Thai's don't eat with chopsticks (unless it is soup and then they use them to eat the noodles out of the soup) but with a spoon and a fork, using the spoon as we would a fork and the fork as we would a knife. Meals are family style and everyone starts out with a big plate of rice. Instead of passing around all of the dishes and loading up their plates as we would do, they take a small spoonful at a time and eat it with rice until they are through and then move on to the next dish. Napkins, in Thailand, either do not exist, or are hoarded by the an elite minority, because every table in Thailand is adorned with a toilet paper holder and a role of toilet paper - which comes in very handy during those times when you need to blow your nose or mop your brow, because for the most part Thai food is HOT.
I was at the end of the table across from Usana, who managed to assure that my plate was never empty and next to Sua who kept up a running commentary, letting me know what everyone was talking about, which for the most part, was the Thai Beer girl in the skimpy dress in the bar behind me. Next to Usana was Moo, then Khun Sippon, the director, Vikram and Noi. Champ was next to Sua with Moo and Fawn next to him.
Our first course was a baked fish of some sort, served hole (head and all) with a pepper sauce. Two fish were placed in the center of the table and everyone just dug in with their forks. Next came the Chinese dim sum and som tum (spicy papaya salad - delicious!) and more fish - steamed this time. As with the other Thai meals out I've attended, once the dishes start coming, they just keep coming. After the fish came the som tum with crab (From Sua, "you might not want to eat that; some of them have bad diseases"); tom yum kung, oyster omelet, stir fried morning glory... Our ever attentive waitress kept my glass full, my plate full of rice and Unsana made sure I had a taste of everything at least three times. Everything was delicious, but there is only so much a person can eat! I began to leave a little of everything on my plate just to assure that it wouldn't be refilled.
When everyone started slowing down, they began electing people to speak and asked Fawn to speak for the first floor and Champ to speak for the second floor. Fawn came over to me and told me that she was so happy that I had come, thanked me for everything I had done, said she was going to miss me and wished me the best of luck in my travels. She then handed me a gift. Champ went next and echoed her sentiments in his own shy way, handing me yet another gift. Soon everyone was getting up and wanting to talk and by the time they were through, I was almost in tears and loaded down with gifts. When they asked if I wanted to speak, I said that I did. I thanked them for their kindness and told them how lucky I felt to have had the privildege of getting to know them all. I told them how when I started, I was scared and unsure about how I was going to work in an office full of strangers who spoke another language, but how after just a few days, they had made me feel welcome and howthey now all felt like good friends. I cried, they clapped and we all took a group photo.
After dinner, we all said our goodbyes, but they weren't tearful goodbyes, only cheerful "see you tomorrows" because I since I hate goodbyes and was not ready to leave my new friends, I had made plans to play Badminton with them the next day.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Photos
Since I do not have a digital camera, I can only share my friends pictures, but (if you have the time) they should give you an idea of where I've been.
They are posted on Snapfish and you can log in with the following username and password:
User Email: Issarapab33@yahoo.com
Password: seasia05
I will try to add more as the come.
Enjoy!
They are posted on Snapfish and you can log in with the following username and password:
User Email: Issarapab33@yahoo.com
Password: seasia05
I will try to add more as the come.
Enjoy!
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Wrapping up and Moving On
This is my last week at HAT and CCS and I'm working on wrapping up, taking pictures and buying gifts. I am really going to miss everyone here (and the comfortable structure that life in Bangkok allowed).
On Saturday, I catch a train to Chumpon and a bus to Burma for my VISA run and then I hope to be at Suan Mokkh on Monday, a day early for registration to assure my place in the retreat.
From the retreat, I will be heading back up to Bangkok to meet Steven (my new travel partner in crime) at the airport to begin our three week, three country adventure - beginning in Bangkok, through Angkor and Phnom Phen in Cambodia, finally bringing us to Siagon (Ho Chi Minh) Vietnam.
I may not be able to post as much once I leave Issarapab 33, as I will either be on the road, in seclusion or otherwise engaged in adventures with Steven, but I will try to write as often as I can.
I believe the real adventure is yet to come.
Wish me luck!
On Saturday, I catch a train to Chumpon and a bus to Burma for my VISA run and then I hope to be at Suan Mokkh on Monday, a day early for registration to assure my place in the retreat.
From the retreat, I will be heading back up to Bangkok to meet Steven (my new travel partner in crime) at the airport to begin our three week, three country adventure - beginning in Bangkok, through Angkor and Phnom Phen in Cambodia, finally bringing us to Siagon (Ho Chi Minh) Vietnam.
I may not be able to post as much once I leave Issarapab 33, as I will either be on the road, in seclusion or otherwise engaged in adventures with Steven, but I will try to write as often as I can.
I believe the real adventure is yet to come.
Wish me luck!
Another weekend of Leisure
Thursday was our last night with Lila, so we headed to the Sky Bar on the 64th floor on top of the State Tower, with great cocktails and the best view in Bangkok. From their open air deck, ringed with leather couch seating, we chatted the night away surrounded by stars, fireworks and millions of lights in the city below.
Friday morning, Steve (aka 'Monk'), Erica, Alicia and I boarded a bus for Koh Chang, Thailand's second biggest island. A an hour taxi ride, five hour bus ride, 40 minute ferry ride and two 30 minute santheaw taxi rides later, we arrived at Lonely Beach (Tah Nam Beach) on the West Coast of Koh Chang. Since Alicia had been to Koh Chang a month before, we simply had to follow her around, no questions asked. Alicia is my kind of traveler and brought us to these really basic huts (mattress on the floor with a mosquito net and no roof on the bathroom) while Monk headed for the neighboring resort complete with king sized bed, a/c, cable, dvd, swimming pool with stone fountains; giving us the advantage of cheap accommodation with a great pool to lounge by and a comfy air-conditioned room to cool off in. We spent our time divided between the beach, the pool and the 'Tree House,' a restaurant comprised of a rickety looking wooden platform on stilts over the water adorned with your standard Thai tables and pillows.
Saturday was spent lounging on the beach and by the pool, eating tasty Thai food. Saturday night we went back to the Tree House and wound up being led by the resident 11- year-old to the dance floor where we spent hours dancing with some very interesting characters (pictures to come).
Sunday, while Monk, Alicia and Erica enjoyed the beach, I spent the day holed up with a severe case of "I slept in my contacts and now I can't see" in Monk's incredibly comfy king sized bed with the a/c down to about 19. A waste of a day, but an enjoyable waste. I did manage to listen to a really interesting documentary on maternal health in Afghanistan on BBC newsapparentlyly one out of three women in rural areas dies from complications, often because they cannot get permission from their husbands to leave the village. NGO's there are training 22 women from 22 different rural areas to be midwives).
Monday we spent about 5 hours lounging and another 12 traveling back to Bangkok on various modes of transportation that seemed to have every intention except to get us where we were going (the taxi that stopped to load more passengers every 5 minuteeven thoughgh we were quite beyond capacity; the one ferry that we missed and the other that backed up to picup morere passengers; and the bus that broke down ithe middle of the interstate 30 minutes before we reached our destination).
We made it home at 11:00 p.m. on Monday night, happy to be home, but feeling that our island getaway was well worth the trip.
Friday morning, Steve (aka 'Monk'), Erica, Alicia and I boarded a bus for Koh Chang, Thailand's second biggest island. A an hour taxi ride, five hour bus ride, 40 minute ferry ride and two 30 minute santheaw taxi rides later, we arrived at Lonely Beach (Tah Nam Beach) on the West Coast of Koh Chang. Since Alicia had been to Koh Chang a month before, we simply had to follow her around, no questions asked. Alicia is my kind of traveler and brought us to these really basic huts (mattress on the floor with a mosquito net and no roof on the bathroom) while Monk headed for the neighboring resort complete with king sized bed, a/c, cable, dvd, swimming pool with stone fountains; giving us the advantage of cheap accommodation with a great pool to lounge by and a comfy air-conditioned room to cool off in. We spent our time divided between the beach, the pool and the 'Tree House,' a restaurant comprised of a rickety looking wooden platform on stilts over the water adorned with your standard Thai tables and pillows.
Saturday was spent lounging on the beach and by the pool, eating tasty Thai food. Saturday night we went back to the Tree House and wound up being led by the resident 11- year-old to the dance floor where we spent hours dancing with some very interesting characters (pictures to come).
Sunday, while Monk, Alicia and Erica enjoyed the beach, I spent the day holed up with a severe case of "I slept in my contacts and now I can't see" in Monk's incredibly comfy king sized bed with the a/c down to about 19. A waste of a day, but an enjoyable waste. I did manage to listen to a really interesting documentary on maternal health in Afghanistan on BBC newsapparentlyly one out of three women in rural areas dies from complications, often because they cannot get permission from their husbands to leave the village. NGO's there are training 22 women from 22 different rural areas to be midwives).
Monday we spent about 5 hours lounging and another 12 traveling back to Bangkok on various modes of transportation that seemed to have every intention except to get us where we were going (the taxi that stopped to load more passengers every 5 minuteeven thoughgh we were quite beyond capacity; the one ferry that we missed and the other that backed up to picup morere passengers; and the bus that broke down ithe middle of the interstate 30 minutes before we reached our destination).
We made it home at 11:00 p.m. on Monday night, happy to be home, but feeling that our island getaway was well worth the trip.
Hurrah!
When I made my flight reservations for this trip, using my Delta Skymiles, I was was not able to book my return flight beyond a certain date in the future (a date before I had hoped to come back), but I was told that I could change my tickets, once, without penalty, as long as there were seats available on the flights. With this reassurance, I booked my tickets and left the return trip details to be determined at a future date.
One day last week, having decided that I wanted to skip Malaysia and hop over to India for three weeks (seeing as it is so close to Bangladesh...) and feeling a little pressure on the time that I had in Vietnam and Laos (after hearing what a great place it is), I was ready to change my tickets. My original tickets had me flying out of Dhaka, Bangladesh on the 17th of August to Kuala Lumpur, out of Kuala Lumpur to Los Angeles on the 31st of August, and out of Los Angeles to Atlanta on the 2nd of September (leaving me only two weeks with Erica and Mark in Bangladesh and no time with Kat and Mike in LA). I hoped to tack on an extra two weeks to my Vietnam/Laos trek, have six weeks to split between Bangladesh and India, leaving me two weeks in LA to lounge on the beach and spend quality time with friends that I don't see near enough. I felt like a big kid in a candy store with limitless freedom. That is, until I was told, by my extremely polite Thai Delta representative, that there were no "awards" seats left on the flight that I wanted on the 16th of September from Kuala Lumpur to L.A. I could be put on the waiting list, in case a seat opened up, but there was nothing available anywhere before or after that date. I was bummed! I knew that if I had to make it work, I could, and one less month of travel wouldn't make my trip any less amazing, but the spoiled child in me still wanted my three weeks in India and my two weeks in L.A. Deciding to let it go for the weekend and enjoy the beach, I did just that.
This morning, I contacted Delta again, only to be told that there were still no seats available, but that I could contact Malaysian Air to see if there was anything they could do.
I contacted and equally friendly Malaysian Air representative, who told me that while there were paying seats available on the flight that I wanted, there were no "awards" seats available. I played with the option of buying a paid seat and just giving up my award seat, but when I mentioned this, she said that there were no special fares available on that leg and I would have to pay full price which was "very expensive." She actually seemed concerned that I would be paying too much money! She asked when was the latest date that I could wait, but I didn't know how long would be too long (when I really would have no options as all the paying seats would be sold as well). Grasping for one last straw, I asked her if there were any awards seats available around the date I wanted (being that my main reason for wanting to be in LA on the 17th of September is to watch the Gators trounce Tennessee...) and to my sheer delight, she responded that a seat had opened up on the flight that I wanted, just two days earlier (leaving Dhaka on the 13th as opposed to the 15th). Hurrah!!
I happily accepted the new seat, thanked her profusely, and sat back relieved, content with the knowledge that, while one day I will have to grow up and get a real job, for now my current state of deciding my life based on whim, and Florida football schedules, remains intact.
One day last week, having decided that I wanted to skip Malaysia and hop over to India for three weeks (seeing as it is so close to Bangladesh...) and feeling a little pressure on the time that I had in Vietnam and Laos (after hearing what a great place it is), I was ready to change my tickets. My original tickets had me flying out of Dhaka, Bangladesh on the 17th of August to Kuala Lumpur, out of Kuala Lumpur to Los Angeles on the 31st of August, and out of Los Angeles to Atlanta on the 2nd of September (leaving me only two weeks with Erica and Mark in Bangladesh and no time with Kat and Mike in LA). I hoped to tack on an extra two weeks to my Vietnam/Laos trek, have six weeks to split between Bangladesh and India, leaving me two weeks in LA to lounge on the beach and spend quality time with friends that I don't see near enough. I felt like a big kid in a candy store with limitless freedom. That is, until I was told, by my extremely polite Thai Delta representative, that there were no "awards" seats left on the flight that I wanted on the 16th of September from Kuala Lumpur to L.A. I could be put on the waiting list, in case a seat opened up, but there was nothing available anywhere before or after that date. I was bummed! I knew that if I had to make it work, I could, and one less month of travel wouldn't make my trip any less amazing, but the spoiled child in me still wanted my three weeks in India and my two weeks in L.A. Deciding to let it go for the weekend and enjoy the beach, I did just that.
This morning, I contacted Delta again, only to be told that there were still no seats available, but that I could contact Malaysian Air to see if there was anything they could do.
I contacted and equally friendly Malaysian Air representative, who told me that while there were paying seats available on the flight that I wanted, there were no "awards" seats available. I played with the option of buying a paid seat and just giving up my award seat, but when I mentioned this, she said that there were no special fares available on that leg and I would have to pay full price which was "very expensive." She actually seemed concerned that I would be paying too much money! She asked when was the latest date that I could wait, but I didn't know how long would be too long (when I really would have no options as all the paying seats would be sold as well). Grasping for one last straw, I asked her if there were any awards seats available around the date I wanted (being that my main reason for wanting to be in LA on the 17th of September is to watch the Gators trounce Tennessee...) and to my sheer delight, she responded that a seat had opened up on the flight that I wanted, just two days earlier (leaving Dhaka on the 13th as opposed to the 15th). Hurrah!!
I happily accepted the new seat, thanked her profusely, and sat back relieved, content with the knowledge that, while one day I will have to grow up and get a real job, for now my current state of deciding my life based on whim, and Florida football schedules, remains intact.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Jimmy, Billy, James and the Gang
For my English lesson today, I brought in some of my cds and the printed lyrics of selected songs, specifically You've got a friend by James Taylor, He went to Paris by Jimmy Buffet, Piano Man by Billy Joel and a love song from Phantom of the Opera. I chose songs that I thought were slow enough for them to follow and had pretty basic lyrics.
I had a full house comprised of Vikram, Fawn, Pong, Moo and Champ and everyone gathered in chairs around my computer which I was using to play the cds.
The first song was 'You've got a friend' and it was quite a surreal experience listening to this song that brought back so many memories of my past, while sitting surrounded by my new Thai friends as they attempted to sing along with the words. Afterward, I asked them to ask me any questions that they might have about words or concepts that they didn't understand and I found myself struggling to explain the concept of 'nothing' as in 'nothing is going right' and enjoying explaining the concept of the 'old north wind,' really feeling this direct cultural exchange.
Next, I played 'Piano Man' and right off the bat, found myself explaining that when he said 'making love to his tonic and gin,' he didn't really mean 'making love to his tonic and gin.' They also asked the meaning of 'shuffles' and putting 'bread' in a jar. As I listened I was swept away by memories of piano bars in Tampa, Atlanta, Austin and New Orleans making me think fondly of my next trip to one sometime in the fall.
Jimmy Buffet's 'He went to Paris' translated pretty well with its story format and they understood the idea behind an older person sharing his life story. Finding myself in a contemplative mood, Jimmy's line 'some of its magic, some of it's tragic, but I had a good life all the way,' was especially powerful.
I finished up the set with a love song between Raoul and Christine from the Phantom of the Opera, for a little variety. We had a lively discussion about the opera and theater and afterward, they kept going up to each other and saying, "I always beside you" and laughing hysterically. It turns out that the word that sounds like the Thai pronunciation of "beside" is a vulgar term meaning to "make love!" Why I keep running into these words is beyond me!
Over all it was a great lesson, although I think I got much more out of it than them. In just a short hours time, I greatly appreciated the opportunity I have here to make new friends, learn about another culture, and share some of my own; while also reminiscing about all of the wonderful memories and friends I am blessed to have in my life at home and thinking about how nice it will be to be back when I am. Somehow I need to find a way to combine the two.
I had a full house comprised of Vikram, Fawn, Pong, Moo and Champ and everyone gathered in chairs around my computer which I was using to play the cds.
The first song was 'You've got a friend' and it was quite a surreal experience listening to this song that brought back so many memories of my past, while sitting surrounded by my new Thai friends as they attempted to sing along with the words. Afterward, I asked them to ask me any questions that they might have about words or concepts that they didn't understand and I found myself struggling to explain the concept of 'nothing' as in 'nothing is going right' and enjoying explaining the concept of the 'old north wind,' really feeling this direct cultural exchange.
Next, I played 'Piano Man' and right off the bat, found myself explaining that when he said 'making love to his tonic and gin,' he didn't really mean 'making love to his tonic and gin.' They also asked the meaning of 'shuffles' and putting 'bread' in a jar. As I listened I was swept away by memories of piano bars in Tampa, Atlanta, Austin and New Orleans making me think fondly of my next trip to one sometime in the fall.
Jimmy Buffet's 'He went to Paris' translated pretty well with its story format and they understood the idea behind an older person sharing his life story. Finding myself in a contemplative mood, Jimmy's line 'some of its magic, some of it's tragic, but I had a good life all the way,' was especially powerful.
I finished up the set with a love song between Raoul and Christine from the Phantom of the Opera, for a little variety. We had a lively discussion about the opera and theater and afterward, they kept going up to each other and saying, "I always beside you" and laughing hysterically. It turns out that the word that sounds like the Thai pronunciation of "beside" is a vulgar term meaning to "make love!" Why I keep running into these words is beyond me!
Over all it was a great lesson, although I think I got much more out of it than them. In just a short hours time, I greatly appreciated the opportunity I have here to make new friends, learn about another culture, and share some of my own; while also reminiscing about all of the wonderful memories and friends I am blessed to have in my life at home and thinking about how nice it will be to be back when I am. Somehow I need to find a way to combine the two.
Painted Poodles and the Truth about Thai People
They say that Thailand is the land of smiles and that the Thai people are some of the nicest you will ever meet. Coming here, I wasn't sure if this were true or simply a good tourism advertising campaign and in my first few weeks I found that if you come with the image that every single person in Thailand is nice, you will be disappointed, just as you would if you thought the same about the Southern United States. But I have found, more often than not, that the Thai people that I have been fortunate enough to come into contact with on a daily basis or for a mere momentary exchange, are truly some of the kindest I have ever met.
After leaving the wat with my fortune, I still had time and wandered into a nearby pet store, lured by the incredible looking poodle in the window. The poodle was a little white, tea cup poodle, but its owners had dyed its ears, legs and tail a bright fire-engine red. It was hysterical, and, as I found, a very well-tempered friendly dog, not at all humbled by his appearance. After I played with him for a few minutes, I asked the owners if I could take a picture, knowing that this is one picture that would definitely be worth more than the mere words of description. The man in the shop indicated that it was okay and after a few minutes of my trying to capture the playful little pup on camera, came over to hold him for me. I snapped a picture and thanked him and was just getting up to leave when the man returned the office where he had disappeared to, with a small family photo album. He began showing me pictures of his family with the dog and when he found one of just the dog, he took it out and offered it to me. I was incredibly touched and graciously accepted his offering. I now have a great picture to go with this story and a memory of yet another Thai person that I met by chance who embodied the true spirit behind the "land of smiles."
After leaving the wat with my fortune, I still had time and wandered into a nearby pet store, lured by the incredible looking poodle in the window. The poodle was a little white, tea cup poodle, but its owners had dyed its ears, legs and tail a bright fire-engine red. It was hysterical, and, as I found, a very well-tempered friendly dog, not at all humbled by his appearance. After I played with him for a few minutes, I asked the owners if I could take a picture, knowing that this is one picture that would definitely be worth more than the mere words of description. The man in the shop indicated that it was okay and after a few minutes of my trying to capture the playful little pup on camera, came over to hold him for me. I snapped a picture and thanked him and was just getting up to leave when the man returned the office where he had disappeared to, with a small family photo album. He began showing me pictures of his family with the dog and when he found one of just the dog, he took it out and offered it to me. I was incredibly touched and graciously accepted his offering. I now have a great picture to go with this story and a memory of yet another Thai person that I met by chance who embodied the true spirit behind the "land of smiles."
Immaculate Conception
The other day, I was walking down to the internet cafe and found it to be closed as it was not yet 10:00 in the morning on a Sunday. I thought that it might open at 10:00 a.m., so I decided to walk to the temple to get my fortune to pass the time.
When you walk into a Thai temple grounds there are often multiple buildings consisting of living quarters, wats and other buildings, whose purpose I haven't yet identified. In front of the main wat, there are usually piles of shoes at the base of the steps, leading up to the figure of a Buddha with a table of offerings in front of him. The basic procedure seems to be to remove your shoes, walk up the steps and sit in front of the Buddha, waiing deeply towards the ground, presenting your offerings and waiing again. While you are there, you can also find out your fortune for the day by picking up a round wooden container filled with long sticks, each with a number written or taped to them somewhere. You hold the container at the bottom with the stick facing out and shake until on of the sticks falls out. You then read the number on the fallen stick and either give it to the woman/man sitting near by who will hand your your fortune, or in the case of the wat near the house, simply take the fortune that is hanging under the number on the wall that corresponds with your number.
I have done this twice at different wats and I am going to have good luck if I work hard, I shouldn't take the role of a leader as I need the cooperation of others to get things done, if I miss someone, it will be a long time before we are united; and apparently, according to each separate fortune, I am pregnant with a boy and a girl.
When you walk into a Thai temple grounds there are often multiple buildings consisting of living quarters, wats and other buildings, whose purpose I haven't yet identified. In front of the main wat, there are usually piles of shoes at the base of the steps, leading up to the figure of a Buddha with a table of offerings in front of him. The basic procedure seems to be to remove your shoes, walk up the steps and sit in front of the Buddha, waiing deeply towards the ground, presenting your offerings and waiing again. While you are there, you can also find out your fortune for the day by picking up a round wooden container filled with long sticks, each with a number written or taped to them somewhere. You hold the container at the bottom with the stick facing out and shake until on of the sticks falls out. You then read the number on the fallen stick and either give it to the woman/man sitting near by who will hand your your fortune, or in the case of the wat near the house, simply take the fortune that is hanging under the number on the wall that corresponds with your number.
I have done this twice at different wats and I am going to have good luck if I work hard, I shouldn't take the role of a leader as I need the cooperation of others to get things done, if I miss someone, it will be a long time before we are united; and apparently, according to each separate fortune, I am pregnant with a boy and a girl.
Monday, May 16, 2005
On productivity
When I returned from the HIV/AIDS training at 2:00 in the afternoon, I was greeted by Pong who immediately told me that Khun Sippon (the director) wanted to speak with me. Having wanted to talk with him as well about my ongoing projects, but having been unable to because our schedules conflict (I leave in the afternoon; he arrives in the afternoon), I was glad to be able to get a chance to do so. Just then, he walked out of the kitchen and said hello, asking me if I'd gotten the note from Pong. I told him that I hadn't and he proceed to explain that he had had Pong type up the expanded concept paper that I had written and that he wanted me to write up a cover letter to UNICEF and to include a copy of the brochure (which I was in the process of working on) and that we were sending everything out tomorrow. As an aside, he said, "we do things like this last minute all the time."
Happy to have a mission, I went up stairs and set about on my cover letter and to finish the brochure. I had already designed the brochure and was simply waiting on Moo to show me where they kept pictures on the computer for me to upload and for Khun Sippon to have the website re-established so I could cut and paste some information from there as well (something I'd be asking about since my first week on the job).
Once I asked Moo about the pictures and she showed me where they where, I went to Khun Sippon about the web site, because I wanted to put a Mission Statement on the brochure and knew there had to be one on there (having not found one on any other English materials). When he told me that the site was still down, I asked him if HAT had a mission statement written somewhere that I could use for the brochure. He replied that there was, on the website. I smiled and he shrugged, so I asked him if he could just make one up on the spot. He looked at me thoughtfully and said he would come up with something. A few minutes later, he came in to the office with a piece of paper and handed it to me. Looking at it, I saw that it was a printout of the website with a mission statement, funding sources and descriptions of HAT's projects. I thanked him graciously, not evening considering mentioning how much use this little piece of paper would have been to me eight weeks ago!
I finished cover letter and printed it out for his review, while I continued to work on the brochure. At about 4:30, walked back into the office and said that it was great and was I leaving now? I said that I wasn't leaving until I had finished everything I had to do, feeling quite the dedicated employee. He thanked me and left me to my work.
Finally at five-thirty (we are only supposed to work until 2:00, for those of you thinking "5:30? Poor thing! I work until 7:00 every night!), having finalized the cover-letter, re-proofed the concept paper and had my four separate sheets of brochure saved to four separate floppy disks (all of which was an ordeal I didn't even get into here), I headed home to work on the final version of the brochure.
At 10:30 p.m. that night, knowing I had to get up for work at 5:00 a.m. the next morning (for an all day 'study tour' with the consumer protection volunteers), I called it a day.
Happy to have a mission, I went up stairs and set about on my cover letter and to finish the brochure. I had already designed the brochure and was simply waiting on Moo to show me where they kept pictures on the computer for me to upload and for Khun Sippon to have the website re-established so I could cut and paste some information from there as well (something I'd be asking about since my first week on the job).
Once I asked Moo about the pictures and she showed me where they where, I went to Khun Sippon about the web site, because I wanted to put a Mission Statement on the brochure and knew there had to be one on there (having not found one on any other English materials). When he told me that the site was still down, I asked him if HAT had a mission statement written somewhere that I could use for the brochure. He replied that there was, on the website. I smiled and he shrugged, so I asked him if he could just make one up on the spot. He looked at me thoughtfully and said he would come up with something. A few minutes later, he came in to the office with a piece of paper and handed it to me. Looking at it, I saw that it was a printout of the website with a mission statement, funding sources and descriptions of HAT's projects. I thanked him graciously, not evening considering mentioning how much use this little piece of paper would have been to me eight weeks ago!
I finished cover letter and printed it out for his review, while I continued to work on the brochure. At about 4:30, walked back into the office and said that it was great and was I leaving now? I said that I wasn't leaving until I had finished everything I had to do, feeling quite the dedicated employee. He thanked me and left me to my work.
Finally at five-thirty (we are only supposed to work until 2:00, for those of you thinking "5:30? Poor thing! I work until 7:00 every night!), having finalized the cover-letter, re-proofed the concept paper and had my four separate sheets of brochure saved to four separate floppy disks (all of which was an ordeal I didn't even get into here), I headed home to work on the final version of the brochure.
At 10:30 p.m. that night, knowing I had to get up for work at 5:00 a.m. the next morning (for an all day 'study tour' with the consumer protection volunteers), I called it a day.
HIV/AIDS Training
Monday morning, I went with Vikram and Champ to an HIV/AIDS training for teachers and staff at a local primary school. On the ride there, Vikram explained to me that the training would consist of about an hour of lecture on the prevalence of HIV/AIDS in the world and in Thailand as well as general facts about the virus and modes of transmission. After the presentation, there would be discussion and participatory games. One of the games entailed having the participants rank people of varying occupations by perceived risk for HIV/AIDS (a teacher, a nurse, a sex worker, monk, etc..). Presumably, they would put the sex work and the nurse as high risk and the monk as the lowest risk. During the discussion of the game, Vikram would explain that it wasn't simply your occupation that put you at more or less risk, but more your behavior and your knowledge.
The presentation reminded me very much of those I'd given for Habitat, with a laptop and a projector (although not in Thai and not relating to HIV/AIDS...). After the presentation, they went into the discussion questions and the games. Although I didn't understand much of what was said, I followed along with Vikram description and enjoyed watching how they reacted to him (Vikram is a very likeable guy and that comes across very well in his public speaking). After the games and discussion, Vikram passed around syringes, condoms and a dental dam. It was amusing to watch as some women gingerly picked up the dental dam by the corner and leaned away as they passed it to their neighbor, while others stretched it and examined it with great interest.
At the end of the morning, Vikram talked to me further about the situation with regards to open discussion about HIV/AIDS in Thailand. He said that most Thai's are simply just concerned with providing for their families and don't give much thought to the subject unless someone in their family is affected. He said that this also leads to many situations where kids are not given the information they need to protect themselves from their parents and can lead to high risk behavior unless they get the information elsewhere. He said that (we) "are trying to get them to think differently."
After working for so many weeks in the office and reading about all the work that they do, it was great to see them in action, although, I always wish that I understood Thai so much more at these times because I know that there is so much more to every situation than what I can glean from my very surface understanding.
The presentation reminded me very much of those I'd given for Habitat, with a laptop and a projector (although not in Thai and not relating to HIV/AIDS...). After the presentation, they went into the discussion questions and the games. Although I didn't understand much of what was said, I followed along with Vikram description and enjoyed watching how they reacted to him (Vikram is a very likeable guy and that comes across very well in his public speaking). After the games and discussion, Vikram passed around syringes, condoms and a dental dam. It was amusing to watch as some women gingerly picked up the dental dam by the corner and leaned away as they passed it to their neighbor, while others stretched it and examined it with great interest.
At the end of the morning, Vikram talked to me further about the situation with regards to open discussion about HIV/AIDS in Thailand. He said that most Thai's are simply just concerned with providing for their families and don't give much thought to the subject unless someone in their family is affected. He said that this also leads to many situations where kids are not given the information they need to protect themselves from their parents and can lead to high risk behavior unless they get the information elsewhere. He said that (we) "are trying to get them to think differently."
After working for so many weeks in the office and reading about all the work that they do, it was great to see them in action, although, I always wish that I understood Thai so much more at these times because I know that there is so much more to every situation than what I can glean from my very surface understanding.
But for the Kindness of Strangers (and a little luck)
Thursday night, we all planned to go out on the town for Bijan's last night. I left early to meet Lucy and Eleanor for a drink to hear all about their trip to Cambodia and planned to meet up with everyone else for dinner. Around 6:30, I called the hosue to get the address and name of the restaurant they had decided on and talked to Russ, who told me that we were going to the 'Bangkok Bar' and gave me the address, warning me that there were two 'Bangkok Bar's, one of which was on Khoa San Road, and we were going to the other one. I thanked him, told him I'd see him at 7:30 and went back to Lucy and Eleanor.
At 7:00 we parted ways, Lucy and Eleanor to the house to get some rest and finish packing, and me to the Bangkok Bar. Armed with my napkin bearing the name and address of my destination, I flagged down the first cab that passed.
When I got in the cab, I handed my napkin to the driver, who took it and began driving off. Watching as he attempted to drive and read at the same time, I asked, in my rudamentary Thai, if he knew where it was. He answered me by pulling over to the side of the road, motioning for me to 'wait right there', and jumping out of the cab. He proceeded to walk up to everyone who passed, handing them my napkin and, presumably, asking them if they knew where it was. Finally, he found someone who said they knew, because he walked over with another Thai man who opened my door and said, "Where do you want to go?" I answered that I wanted to go to the 'Bangkok Bar' on R-something road. He, looked at the driver, spoke to him in Thai and then turned to me and said, "How much will you give him? You give him 200 bhat." Knowing that, 1) it is illegal for a taxi driver to ask you for an un-metered fare, and 2) that it would take a good two hour cab ride for the fare to get up to 200 bhat, I pointed at the meter and said, "No. I will pay him the metered fare." The cab driver then thanked him, got in, and looking at me, pointed at the man and made a face, shaking his hand at him. "Meter," he said and smiled at me. And we were off.
The next thing I knew, we were driving down a very familiar street and before I could think to say anything, he stopped the cab and he pointed at a sign above a bar. Realizing that he had taken me to the wrong bar, I told him as much and half spoke, half pantomimed my request for him to turn around the next corner and I would get out and ask someone else. He nodded and took me around the corner where I got out and asked a woman behind the counter in a guest house if she knew of the road I was looking for. She said she did and agreed to come out and give the driver directions. Once the message had been conveyed, we were off again.
After another few short turns, I noticed, to my great pleasure, that the street sign matched the address on my napkin. We drove for about half a mile and the driver pulled over again. He turned to me and I told him the address, to which he motioned for me to give him my napkin and he left me again to survey people on the street. Again, I found myself talking to an English speaking Thai man, telling him that I wanted to go to the 'Bangkok Bar' and that there were two of them, one on this street and one that everyone seemed to know about, near Khoa San Road. Unfortunately, he didn't know of either and so I thanked him, thanked (and tipped) the driver and took my leave, figuring that if I had the address and was on the right road, finding the restaurant couldn't be that hard.
Walking across the street, I stopped the first few foreigners I saw, none of whom had heard of the 'Bangkok Bar.' One man told me that I might have luck asking inside the restaurant because they would probably know the area and the spoke some English. So I went in and inquired, explaining my situation again. The young man behind the counter immediately whipped out a pen and a napkin and proceeded to draw me a map, saying, "Easy, easy. Close, close." He then walked me through the map (up to the light, right turn, walk to the bank, right turn, 'Bangkok Bar' on your right). Relieved to have finally gotten directions, especially as it was a few mintues past when I was suppossed to meet everyone, I thanked them and hurridly headed for the door.
I walked down the street, made a right, found the bank, but after another right, things seemed to be looking uneasily familiar... Khoa San Road. I was back to where I started! Not one to give up, I turned right around and determinedly made my way back to where I had started from.
When I made it back to the main road, I decided to start from the beginning and make my way down. I knew it was getting late, but I figured that if they were there for dinner, I would at least make it in time for dessert, if nothing else. Just as I neared the end of the second block, I looked up to see Russ's smiling face coming towards me on the sidewalk. Elated, I ran over to him and found that they had been driving around lost in their cab as well and when he saw me, he yelled for the driver to stop so he could come and get me. A few seconds later, everyone else walked up and we shared our stories. It turns out that thier driver had been taking them the wrong way as well and had they not seen me, it is very likely that we would have never met up.
Happy to be reunied with my friends, I joined them for about a half mile walk, where we finally found the 'Bangkok Bar,' although you never would have known it from the sign. Apparantely, the 'Bangkok Bar' had changed it's name a month earlier and was now a completely different restaurant.
At 7:00 we parted ways, Lucy and Eleanor to the house to get some rest and finish packing, and me to the Bangkok Bar. Armed with my napkin bearing the name and address of my destination, I flagged down the first cab that passed.
When I got in the cab, I handed my napkin to the driver, who took it and began driving off. Watching as he attempted to drive and read at the same time, I asked, in my rudamentary Thai, if he knew where it was. He answered me by pulling over to the side of the road, motioning for me to 'wait right there', and jumping out of the cab. He proceeded to walk up to everyone who passed, handing them my napkin and, presumably, asking them if they knew where it was. Finally, he found someone who said they knew, because he walked over with another Thai man who opened my door and said, "Where do you want to go?" I answered that I wanted to go to the 'Bangkok Bar' on R-something road. He, looked at the driver, spoke to him in Thai and then turned to me and said, "How much will you give him? You give him 200 bhat." Knowing that, 1) it is illegal for a taxi driver to ask you for an un-metered fare, and 2) that it would take a good two hour cab ride for the fare to get up to 200 bhat, I pointed at the meter and said, "No. I will pay him the metered fare." The cab driver then thanked him, got in, and looking at me, pointed at the man and made a face, shaking his hand at him. "Meter," he said and smiled at me. And we were off.
The next thing I knew, we were driving down a very familiar street and before I could think to say anything, he stopped the cab and he pointed at a sign above a bar. Realizing that he had taken me to the wrong bar, I told him as much and half spoke, half pantomimed my request for him to turn around the next corner and I would get out and ask someone else. He nodded and took me around the corner where I got out and asked a woman behind the counter in a guest house if she knew of the road I was looking for. She said she did and agreed to come out and give the driver directions. Once the message had been conveyed, we were off again.
After another few short turns, I noticed, to my great pleasure, that the street sign matched the address on my napkin. We drove for about half a mile and the driver pulled over again. He turned to me and I told him the address, to which he motioned for me to give him my napkin and he left me again to survey people on the street. Again, I found myself talking to an English speaking Thai man, telling him that I wanted to go to the 'Bangkok Bar' and that there were two of them, one on this street and one that everyone seemed to know about, near Khoa San Road. Unfortunately, he didn't know of either and so I thanked him, thanked (and tipped) the driver and took my leave, figuring that if I had the address and was on the right road, finding the restaurant couldn't be that hard.
Walking across the street, I stopped the first few foreigners I saw, none of whom had heard of the 'Bangkok Bar.' One man told me that I might have luck asking inside the restaurant because they would probably know the area and the spoke some English. So I went in and inquired, explaining my situation again. The young man behind the counter immediately whipped out a pen and a napkin and proceeded to draw me a map, saying, "Easy, easy. Close, close." He then walked me through the map (up to the light, right turn, walk to the bank, right turn, 'Bangkok Bar' on your right). Relieved to have finally gotten directions, especially as it was a few mintues past when I was suppossed to meet everyone, I thanked them and hurridly headed for the door.
I walked down the street, made a right, found the bank, but after another right, things seemed to be looking uneasily familiar... Khoa San Road. I was back to where I started! Not one to give up, I turned right around and determinedly made my way back to where I had started from.
When I made it back to the main road, I decided to start from the beginning and make my way down. I knew it was getting late, but I figured that if they were there for dinner, I would at least make it in time for dessert, if nothing else. Just as I neared the end of the second block, I looked up to see Russ's smiling face coming towards me on the sidewalk. Elated, I ran over to him and found that they had been driving around lost in their cab as well and when he saw me, he yelled for the driver to stop so he could come and get me. A few seconds later, everyone else walked up and we shared our stories. It turns out that thier driver had been taking them the wrong way as well and had they not seen me, it is very likely that we would have never met up.
Happy to be reunied with my friends, I joined them for about a half mile walk, where we finally found the 'Bangkok Bar,' although you never would have known it from the sign. Apparantely, the 'Bangkok Bar' had changed it's name a month earlier and was now a completely different restaurant.
Friday, May 13, 2005
Goodbyes
Yet another group has come and gone, and with just two weeks left myself, I'm a bit melancholy. We all went out and a had a marvelous time last night; one last hurrah before two more head home. Bijan left this afternoon, Lucy and Eleanor left a few hours later and Russ leaves tonight. I am trying to be of the mindset that it is better to have known people for the brief time you have them in your life and be happy for it, than to focus on how little time you have with them before they leave. It is sad. We're all sad. It is a blue house on Issarapab 33. But while we say our goodbyes, we are turning right around and saying hellos, as members of the next group of 10 begin to trickle in from the airport. I don't think I could work in a place with such a high turn over.
I can't beleive that in just 2 weeks, I will be off as well. I am going to miss so much about this place. I'm going to miss the toads in the evening sounding much like a symphony of tubas gone flat. I'm going to miss the guards with their ready smiles, salutes and blow kisses when your back is turned; the motor cycle taxi drivers yelling out "HELLO!" each time you pass; the quiet serenity of the morning as the bright orange clad monks collect their daily meals. I'm going to miss Noo with her beautiful smile running up behind me to grab me in a big hug; June asking me to taste dinner as she cooks to make sure it isn't too spicy for the other volunteers ("pet, mai?"); Air with her booming Sawadee, Ka, each see sees you coming; Foon jabbing me in the side whenever I pass. I'm going to miss the sound of the tuk tuks and the trucks rushing by; riding in taxi's on the wrong side of the road. I'm going to miss Sua and his perpetual questions always prefaced with, "excuse me" even when we're face to face. I'm going to miss listening to Vikram talk about Elvis; and Pong and her impish smile. I'm going to miss walking by Sit at Side and seeing familiar faces inside; the piles of shoes at the door; the feeling of coming home to a housefull of friends.
While my impact here through my work may not have been earth shattering, I have enjoyed every minute of my stay here. I don't think anywhere else has ever felt so much like home in such a short amount of time.
I can't beleive that in just 2 weeks, I will be off as well. I am going to miss so much about this place. I'm going to miss the toads in the evening sounding much like a symphony of tubas gone flat. I'm going to miss the guards with their ready smiles, salutes and blow kisses when your back is turned; the motor cycle taxi drivers yelling out "HELLO!" each time you pass; the quiet serenity of the morning as the bright orange clad monks collect their daily meals. I'm going to miss Noo with her beautiful smile running up behind me to grab me in a big hug; June asking me to taste dinner as she cooks to make sure it isn't too spicy for the other volunteers ("pet, mai?"); Air with her booming Sawadee, Ka, each see sees you coming; Foon jabbing me in the side whenever I pass. I'm going to miss the sound of the tuk tuks and the trucks rushing by; riding in taxi's on the wrong side of the road. I'm going to miss Sua and his perpetual questions always prefaced with, "excuse me" even when we're face to face. I'm going to miss listening to Vikram talk about Elvis; and Pong and her impish smile. I'm going to miss walking by Sit at Side and seeing familiar faces inside; the piles of shoes at the door; the feeling of coming home to a housefull of friends.
While my impact here through my work may not have been earth shattering, I have enjoyed every minute of my stay here. I don't think anywhere else has ever felt so much like home in such a short amount of time.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Japanese Food Thai Style
For lunch today, the director took us all out to Oishi, a Japanese Buffet Restaurant, where for a mere 500 bhat a person ($13) you can eat all of the Japanese food you can eat in an hour and 45 minutes (each extra 10 minutes is 30 bhat per person) . The buffet was set up so that you could get your own cooked food, as you do in buffets back home, but you also had six mini-clips with the number of your table on them and you could fill your plate with fresh vegetables, meats and sea foods, clip your number on the plate, put your plate on the window for the chef, and in a few minutes you would have a freshly sauteed meal with your individually chosen ingredients. There was also a sushi bar, a soup bar, a salad bar, a Thai food bar and a counter with pictures of meals where you simply added your clip to the bar and the meal of your choice was brought to your table. It was delicious! I've decided I definitely need more seaweed in my diet! :)
Ban Bang Khae Home for Older Persons
On Tuesday, I went with three of the other volunteers to Ban Bang Khae, which was the first residential home in Thailand, established in 1956 to help homeless and destitute elderly people. This is the placement for two of the volunteers and the other two of us went to visit for the day.
Ban Bang Khae is similar to residential living facilities in the states (or at least the one I am familiar with) in that it has accommodations for people who want to live in their own homes or apartments, but also want the 24 hour services and activities available; as well as accommodations for people who need 24 hour care, and everyone in between. The grounds are not as fancy as those in the states, but they are nice and well kept. There is a pond with a gazebo in the center of the facility where you can feed the (absolutely enormous 4 ft long) fish. Besides the apartments and shared rooms, the facility also includes activity rooms, cafeterias and various healthcare wards.
The only disheartening aspect of the visit was the alzheimer's ward where the patients literally live in what we would perceive as cages (small cell-like areas surrounded by fencing and locked each night). We were told that this is for their own protection and the protection of the other residents because some of the patients tend to wander and become disoriented and have also acted aggressively towards other residents on occasion. Each day, the residents of these 'rooms' are able to wander about with supervision and have specific activities geared to their level of ability.
In the morning, all residents participate in basic sitting exercise routines, which we were unfortunately unable to see as we were still on our tour. We were able to sit with the alzheimer's patients, and some other residents, during their morning activity. Many of them just sat and stared off into space, but others were actively working with puzzles and attempting to communicate with the English speaking volunteers. If there were ever I time I wished I understood Thai, it was then, because it was hard to know if they were actually speaking directly to you or if they were simply talking incoherently (as the nurses said they sometimes do). Since I wasn't sure which was the case at any time, I treated each person as if they were really trying to communicate with me and simply said that I did not understand when I didn't and responded when I did.
One woman with a big smile and a cheery disposition took to me and began singing to me in Thai through her almost tootles smile. I hesitate to describe her as "cute" because it might be construed as a condescending description, but she was so cute, little and happy. She kept telling me I was beautiful and asking my name. At one point, we were given sodas and I set mine aside, only to have her pick it up and motion to me for permission to have some. Since I don't drink much soda, I happily gave it to her, whereupon she took the straw and sucked it down like it was her last drink on earth. One of the other volunteers thought this was amusing and proceeded to give her his as well, which she happily downed with similar exuberance, but I couldn't help being concerned that so much sugar might not be good for her. No one else seemed to mind and she contained on as she was before, so hopefully it was as harmless as it was obviously enjoyable.
After the activity, we went to help the staff feed the residents who are unable to feed themselves. The room was filled with similarly "cute" smiling little Thai women as well as residents in various states of ill-health. One woman was completely bent over at the waist from her years in the rice fields. Another was literally about three feet tall and when she sat down and looked up at you, she resembled a tiny female Buddha.
I walked over to one of the nurses and asked if I could help and she motioned to a frail skeleton of a woman, curled up on her side. Her feet were curled from lack of use and one hand was similarly curled under towards her wrist. Her eyes were caked shut and the strap of her dress had falling down revealing an extremely gaunt frame. I sat down on a stool next to a hospital tray containing a dish of pureed food of some sort and began to feed her as one would a small child.
Each time she took the spoon and swallowed its contents, she opened her mouth wide for the next bite. I had to speed up my delivery to be sure that the spoon was there in time because as she could not see, she would close her mouth if if was not immediately delivered. As I fed her, I wondered what her life had been like and what she could tell me if there were only a way for us to communicate.
After about half of the bowl, she said, "im" (full) and I put the bowl down. She then reached over in my direction and grabbed my hand. We sat there for a few minutes just holding on to each other's hands. I could have sat there with her all day.
Ban Bang Khae is similar to residential living facilities in the states (or at least the one I am familiar with) in that it has accommodations for people who want to live in their own homes or apartments, but also want the 24 hour services and activities available; as well as accommodations for people who need 24 hour care, and everyone in between. The grounds are not as fancy as those in the states, but they are nice and well kept. There is a pond with a gazebo in the center of the facility where you can feed the (absolutely enormous 4 ft long) fish. Besides the apartments and shared rooms, the facility also includes activity rooms, cafeterias and various healthcare wards.
The only disheartening aspect of the visit was the alzheimer's ward where the patients literally live in what we would perceive as cages (small cell-like areas surrounded by fencing and locked each night). We were told that this is for their own protection and the protection of the other residents because some of the patients tend to wander and become disoriented and have also acted aggressively towards other residents on occasion. Each day, the residents of these 'rooms' are able to wander about with supervision and have specific activities geared to their level of ability.
In the morning, all residents participate in basic sitting exercise routines, which we were unfortunately unable to see as we were still on our tour. We were able to sit with the alzheimer's patients, and some other residents, during their morning activity. Many of them just sat and stared off into space, but others were actively working with puzzles and attempting to communicate with the English speaking volunteers. If there were ever I time I wished I understood Thai, it was then, because it was hard to know if they were actually speaking directly to you or if they were simply talking incoherently (as the nurses said they sometimes do). Since I wasn't sure which was the case at any time, I treated each person as if they were really trying to communicate with me and simply said that I did not understand when I didn't and responded when I did.
One woman with a big smile and a cheery disposition took to me and began singing to me in Thai through her almost tootles smile. I hesitate to describe her as "cute" because it might be construed as a condescending description, but she was so cute, little and happy. She kept telling me I was beautiful and asking my name. At one point, we were given sodas and I set mine aside, only to have her pick it up and motion to me for permission to have some. Since I don't drink much soda, I happily gave it to her, whereupon she took the straw and sucked it down like it was her last drink on earth. One of the other volunteers thought this was amusing and proceeded to give her his as well, which she happily downed with similar exuberance, but I couldn't help being concerned that so much sugar might not be good for her. No one else seemed to mind and she contained on as she was before, so hopefully it was as harmless as it was obviously enjoyable.
After the activity, we went to help the staff feed the residents who are unable to feed themselves. The room was filled with similarly "cute" smiling little Thai women as well as residents in various states of ill-health. One woman was completely bent over at the waist from her years in the rice fields. Another was literally about three feet tall and when she sat down and looked up at you, she resembled a tiny female Buddha.
I walked over to one of the nurses and asked if I could help and she motioned to a frail skeleton of a woman, curled up on her side. Her feet were curled from lack of use and one hand was similarly curled under towards her wrist. Her eyes were caked shut and the strap of her dress had falling down revealing an extremely gaunt frame. I sat down on a stool next to a hospital tray containing a dish of pureed food of some sort and began to feed her as one would a small child.
Each time she took the spoon and swallowed its contents, she opened her mouth wide for the next bite. I had to speed up my delivery to be sure that the spoon was there in time because as she could not see, she would close her mouth if if was not immediately delivered. As I fed her, I wondered what her life had been like and what she could tell me if there were only a way for us to communicate.
After about half of the bowl, she said, "im" (full) and I put the bowl down. She then reached over in my direction and grabbed my hand. We sat there for a few minutes just holding on to each other's hands. I could have sat there with her all day.
Technical Difficulties
I wrote up my last post and tried to publish it but obviously the site is experiencing technical problems. I had saved the entry to a disk, which now won't let me access my file. My horoscope somewhere must read 'do not try to do anything technical this week, for you will fail in all such related endeavors' (as I type this the letters do not print, but only appear after a delay, further testiment to the poor aligning of my technology related stars). I wish try to recover (or rewrite the post) soon.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Kanchanaburi Day Three - Erawan Falls
On Saturday, I had decided to go to Erawan Falls and since James wanted to go, we made another day of it. Erawan Falls is about an hour and a half bus ride northwest of Kanchanaburi, costs 200 bhat to enter and is worth every minute and every penny. The falls consist of seven tears, or pools, with the first two being the most accessible and the higher levels reached by a progressively rougher trail up the mountain. The bottom two pools are popular with Thai tourists and are filled with children and families. Although busy, the people do nothing to detract from the beauty of the area. The pools are crystal clear surrounded with rocks and towering trees and the air is full of butterflies giving you the impression you are in a fairytale world that cannot possibly be real.
From the bottom two pools, we followed a rocky trail past pools 3, 4, 5, and 6 coming to a bamboo ladder up to the highest pool. There were a few bathers in the 4th pool, but the others were peaceful and serene. We had read that the highest pool was the least crowded because of the hike to the top, but apparently the word had spread and we reached the top to find a beautiful, but crowded pool at the bottom of a small waterfall (the dry season had reduced the flow of the waterfalls). We decided to stay for a swim and must have timed our dip correctly because we soon found ourselves alone to enjoy the refreshing water and the beauty of the surrounding mountains.
After about 45 minutes, we headed down to the fourth pool, which was the next prettiest in my opinion. It was a larger, deeper pool than the top and was filled with fish of baring sizes, the largest about a foot and the smallest the size of your average minnow. The moment you placed your foot in the water, the larger of the “minnows” gathered around and began to nip at your feet. It was startling, but not painful and evoked more laughs and surprised screams than fear. Once you were out in the water, moving around, they left you alone to watch, amused, as each new unsuspecting victim entered the water.
Around 1:30 p.m. James wanted to head out to catch the bus to make it to the Tiger temple that afternoon, so I walked down with him as far as the bottom pool, where I found a nice spot to sit and write letters for a while. A few moments after I’d sat down, I heard a crashing in the trees above my head and looked up to see about 12 monkeys sitting or jumping through the trees. I had thought about catching to 2:45 bus back to Kanchanaburi, but decided to stay until four because I knew I wouldn’t soon find another opportunity to watch monkeys play in such an idyllic spot.
Kanchanaburi Day Two – Death Railway and Hellfire Pass
Kanchanaburi Guesthouses offer a myriad of tours ranging in price from 500 bhat to over 1,500 bhat for two day trips. The tours include a mix of the same general attractions: a ride on the Death Railway, a trip to Hellfire Pass, Erawan Falls, the Tiger Temple, a boat trip down the river and an elephant ride. Some of the attractions, such as Death Railway, Hellfire Pass and Erawan are general attractions, but others such as the Tiger Temple and the elephant rides are geared towards foreign tourists. Because I am on a budget and prefer the satisfaction of accomplishing things on my own rather than simply booking a tour, I decided to make my way to Hellfire Pass on the Death Railway on Friday and then catch a bus to Erawan Falls on Saturday.
Cutting through town with the help of my local map, I made it to the train station at 5:50 and walked up to the ticket counter. According to my train schedule, it was a mere 17 bhat to Nam Tok to catch the bus to Hellfire Pass, but a banner above the ticket office proclaimed a tourist car on the Death Railway for 300 bhat. Included in this exorbitant cost were snacks, 100,000 bhat insurance on your seat and a “certificate of pride.” Knowing that I could purchase some grilled chicken on a skewer and a bag of sticky rice for 10 bhat from the local Thais who boarded the trains at each stop and feeling that I could do without 273 bhat “certificate of pride,” I pointedly told the woman that I wanted a ticket for the 17 bhat listed on the train schedule. She seemed a bit perturbed, but handed me my ticket and change from a 20 bhat bill. Looking at the schedule, I noticed that while the early train was 17 bhat, the later trains making the same journey were 100 bhat. I took my ticket and settled in among the locals, quite pleased with myself for getting up early and not falling for the tourist gouging schemes.
The two-and-a-half ride on the portion of the Death Railway that is still functioning between Kanchanaburi and Nam Tok cuts through a beautiful valley of forests and farmland, stopping at small villages along the way to let passengers off and to let the people on to tout their wares. My car was almost empty for the first few stops, but soon filled up with locals and a Thai tour group. There was only one other “farang” on the early train.
The train stopped in Nam Tok and I decided to have breakfast before I headed to Hellfire Pass. I was soon joined by James, the other westerner on the train and we decided to eat and then head off together. After a breakfast of pork, rice and vegetables, we made our way to the main road to catch the bus.
There is no specific bus that goes to Hellfire Pass, but there are two buses to other towns that pass by on which you can ask the driver to let you off at the entrance. The museum sits at the end of a dirt road and has only a small inside exhibit consisting of a short movie on the circumstances surrounding the building of the railroad and a room with a war timeline and a few short explanations of the lives of the prisoners who worked on the railway. From the museum, you can also get a headset which you can listen to prerecorded messages at different spots on the trail.
The trail runs along the old railroad, which runs along the side of the mountains over a beautiful valley. Hellfire pass itself is said to be one of the toughest parts of the railway because of the hellish conditions of the camp and the lack of proper tools to cut a pass though solid rock. It was hard to imagine what it would have been like as you are surrounded by such natural beauty. The narrator on the headsets definitely helped to take you back into the past and to remind you why you were there.
Cutting through town with the help of my local map, I made it to the train station at 5:50 and walked up to the ticket counter. According to my train schedule, it was a mere 17 bhat to Nam Tok to catch the bus to Hellfire Pass, but a banner above the ticket office proclaimed a tourist car on the Death Railway for 300 bhat. Included in this exorbitant cost were snacks, 100,000 bhat insurance on your seat and a “certificate of pride.” Knowing that I could purchase some grilled chicken on a skewer and a bag of sticky rice for 10 bhat from the local Thais who boarded the trains at each stop and feeling that I could do without 273 bhat “certificate of pride,” I pointedly told the woman that I wanted a ticket for the 17 bhat listed on the train schedule. She seemed a bit perturbed, but handed me my ticket and change from a 20 bhat bill. Looking at the schedule, I noticed that while the early train was 17 bhat, the later trains making the same journey were 100 bhat. I took my ticket and settled in among the locals, quite pleased with myself for getting up early and not falling for the tourist gouging schemes.
The two-and-a-half ride on the portion of the Death Railway that is still functioning between Kanchanaburi and Nam Tok cuts through a beautiful valley of forests and farmland, stopping at small villages along the way to let passengers off and to let the people on to tout their wares. My car was almost empty for the first few stops, but soon filled up with locals and a Thai tour group. There was only one other “farang” on the early train.
The train stopped in Nam Tok and I decided to have breakfast before I headed to Hellfire Pass. I was soon joined by James, the other westerner on the train and we decided to eat and then head off together. After a breakfast of pork, rice and vegetables, we made our way to the main road to catch the bus.
There is no specific bus that goes to Hellfire Pass, but there are two buses to other towns that pass by on which you can ask the driver to let you off at the entrance. The museum sits at the end of a dirt road and has only a small inside exhibit consisting of a short movie on the circumstances surrounding the building of the railroad and a room with a war timeline and a few short explanations of the lives of the prisoners who worked on the railway. From the museum, you can also get a headset which you can listen to prerecorded messages at different spots on the trail.
The trail runs along the old railroad, which runs along the side of the mountains over a beautiful valley. Hellfire pass itself is said to be one of the toughest parts of the railway because of the hellish conditions of the camp and the lack of proper tools to cut a pass though solid rock. It was hard to imagine what it would have been like as you are surrounded by such natural beauty. The narrator on the headsets definitely helped to take you back into the past and to remind you why you were there.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Kanchanaburi - Day One
I decided to give myself a treat and have a leisurly morning heading off to Kanchanaburi for the weekend. Lucy and Eleanor were off to Cambodia and after they left, I had a breakfast of potato salad, barbequed ribs and pinapple and headed upstairs to pack for my trip.
The pack that I brought with me is enormous and much too big for a weekend trip. Unfortunately, the other backpack that I brough for day trips is a little too small for a weekend trip. So while I was able to bring a flash light, a bike lock and a few changes of clothes, I had to leave without a towel or a bottle of shampoo (the shampoo I am regretting now as soap renders hair an awful mess).
I left the house around 10:30 and flagged a cab for the Southern Bus terminal. Upon hearing my atrocious pronounciation of the name of the Southern Bus terminal, the taxi driver, turned to me and said, "Southern Bus Terminal?" After that he spent the drive asking me about my stay and teaching me to say, "I stay in Thailand four months," and "I go to the Southern Bus terminal" in Thai as well as talking about his love of Thailand and his ideas about the Muslim violence in the south.
As soon as we stopped at the bus terminal, my door was opened and the man standing there asked me where I was going. When I replied, he pointed to the nearest bus and helped me out of the cab. I boarded the bus and settled in just as it began to pull out of the station.
Three hours and only 67 bhat later, I got off the bus at the Kanchanaburi bus station. My Rough Guide lists all of the recommended guest houses and notes that if you call them, they will pick you up at the bus station for free. I walked past all of the taxi drivers offering to drive me for 50 bhat and headed to the nearest 7-11 with a pay phone. Settling on the guest hosue that was said to have "some of the cheapest accomodation in town," I called them up, asked for availability and was told that someone would be on their way. Ten minutes later, realizing that "in front of the 7-11" could put me almost anywhere in town, I called them back and reaffirmed my location and the color of my shirt. A few minutes later, a petite Thai girl pulled up on a motor scooter and we were off.
I had never ridden on the back of a motor scooter and had no idea how to hold on. It seemed inappropriate to wrap my arms around the driver, as I'd seen many Thai women do, so I held on to the handle on the back of the seat and just hoped that we wouldn't hit anything or make any sharp turns.
The C&C Guesthouse was down a small dirt road leading down a hill. As with most of the guesthouses I’ve stayed at so far, it had an adjoining restaurant, in which I met the woman who ran the guesthouse who led me to my room. The cheapest accommodation was 70 bhat (less than two dollars) a night for a basic private room on the river. From the restaurant, we walked across a grassy courtyard and over a rickety wooden bridge. The shared bathrooms consisted of three separate stalls, each with a toilet, shower and sink on the right just before the bridge. The bridge led to two separate floating houseboats, each divided into three of four rooms, each with a chair out front and a small walkway on which you could sit and hang your feet in the river. My room contained a hard, thin mattress on the floor with a mosquito net and unfortunately, my room was sans the promised fan, but I was told one would be brought to my room.
Anxious to be on my way, I emptied my bag of my clothes and set off to rent a bike to visit the local war cemeteries. As I walked back into the restaurant, the woman who had shown me my room asked where I was off to and told her that I wanted to rent a bike for the afternoon. Hearing my plans, she gestured to three dilapidated old bikes in the parking lot and said that I could use any of her bikes for free. Having had a quick conversation with my British neighbors about the bikes, I knew that they were yours to rent “if you could get them to work;” however, I didn’t want to insult my new host and so I graciously thanked her and climbed onto the one bicycle with an intact chain. She smiled and waved me off as I made my way up the dirt hill to the main road.
The bike was an older style ladies bike with the long curved handles. The chain was functioning, but something was causing the petals to skip a beat with each turn. The seat was also quite painful and the brakes were barely functional at best. I told myself that this was all a part of the adventure, but had doubts that this bike would make it to the road, much less all the way to the cemeteries I hoped to visit. To my surprise, the bike held up… for as long as it took me to find the nearest bike rental shop. I quickly locked up my ancient relic and headed off on my nice new mountain bike, a mere 30 bhat lighter.
Kanchanaburi is home to many historical sites, the least of which being the infamous Death Railway and Bridge over the River Kwai. The city also contains two cemeteries for the thousands of POWs and paid laborers who died in its construction. The larger of the two is in the center of town across from the train station; the smaller one being off to the west of the City in more of a rural setting. Enjoying my new freedom of mobility, I headed west, into rural Thailand to the smaller of the two.
Just across the bridge, the town gives way to rolling fields of bright green crops against a backdrop of mountains, dotted with the occasional open air restaurant characteristic to small Thai towns. The two lane road was paved and hosted a steady, if slight, stream of traffic and the occasional dog warning me from veering too far off my path.
After about 20 minutes, I came to the cemetery, but rode by because I wanted to see the cave temple which would close before the cemetery. The cave was a natural cave filled with Buddah images. I enjoyed the natural beauty of the cave, but most likely missed out on a lot of the specifics as the 7-year-old guide of the group in front of me kept of a continuous stream of chatter.
From the cave, I headed back to the cemetery.
The pack that I brought with me is enormous and much too big for a weekend trip. Unfortunately, the other backpack that I brough for day trips is a little too small for a weekend trip. So while I was able to bring a flash light, a bike lock and a few changes of clothes, I had to leave without a towel or a bottle of shampoo (the shampoo I am regretting now as soap renders hair an awful mess).
I left the house around 10:30 and flagged a cab for the Southern Bus terminal. Upon hearing my atrocious pronounciation of the name of the Southern Bus terminal, the taxi driver, turned to me and said, "Southern Bus Terminal?" After that he spent the drive asking me about my stay and teaching me to say, "I stay in Thailand four months," and "I go to the Southern Bus terminal" in Thai as well as talking about his love of Thailand and his ideas about the Muslim violence in the south.
As soon as we stopped at the bus terminal, my door was opened and the man standing there asked me where I was going. When I replied, he pointed to the nearest bus and helped me out of the cab. I boarded the bus and settled in just as it began to pull out of the station.
Three hours and only 67 bhat later, I got off the bus at the Kanchanaburi bus station. My Rough Guide lists all of the recommended guest houses and notes that if you call them, they will pick you up at the bus station for free. I walked past all of the taxi drivers offering to drive me for 50 bhat and headed to the nearest 7-11 with a pay phone. Settling on the guest hosue that was said to have "some of the cheapest accomodation in town," I called them up, asked for availability and was told that someone would be on their way. Ten minutes later, realizing that "in front of the 7-11" could put me almost anywhere in town, I called them back and reaffirmed my location and the color of my shirt. A few minutes later, a petite Thai girl pulled up on a motor scooter and we were off.
I had never ridden on the back of a motor scooter and had no idea how to hold on. It seemed inappropriate to wrap my arms around the driver, as I'd seen many Thai women do, so I held on to the handle on the back of the seat and just hoped that we wouldn't hit anything or make any sharp turns.
The C&C Guesthouse was down a small dirt road leading down a hill. As with most of the guesthouses I’ve stayed at so far, it had an adjoining restaurant, in which I met the woman who ran the guesthouse who led me to my room. The cheapest accommodation was 70 bhat (less than two dollars) a night for a basic private room on the river. From the restaurant, we walked across a grassy courtyard and over a rickety wooden bridge. The shared bathrooms consisted of three separate stalls, each with a toilet, shower and sink on the right just before the bridge. The bridge led to two separate floating houseboats, each divided into three of four rooms, each with a chair out front and a small walkway on which you could sit and hang your feet in the river. My room contained a hard, thin mattress on the floor with a mosquito net and unfortunately, my room was sans the promised fan, but I was told one would be brought to my room.
Anxious to be on my way, I emptied my bag of my clothes and set off to rent a bike to visit the local war cemeteries. As I walked back into the restaurant, the woman who had shown me my room asked where I was off to and told her that I wanted to rent a bike for the afternoon. Hearing my plans, she gestured to three dilapidated old bikes in the parking lot and said that I could use any of her bikes for free. Having had a quick conversation with my British neighbors about the bikes, I knew that they were yours to rent “if you could get them to work;” however, I didn’t want to insult my new host and so I graciously thanked her and climbed onto the one bicycle with an intact chain. She smiled and waved me off as I made my way up the dirt hill to the main road.
The bike was an older style ladies bike with the long curved handles. The chain was functioning, but something was causing the petals to skip a beat with each turn. The seat was also quite painful and the brakes were barely functional at best. I told myself that this was all a part of the adventure, but had doubts that this bike would make it to the road, much less all the way to the cemeteries I hoped to visit. To my surprise, the bike held up… for as long as it took me to find the nearest bike rental shop. I quickly locked up my ancient relic and headed off on my nice new mountain bike, a mere 30 bhat lighter.
Kanchanaburi is home to many historical sites, the least of which being the infamous Death Railway and Bridge over the River Kwai. The city also contains two cemeteries for the thousands of POWs and paid laborers who died in its construction. The larger of the two is in the center of town across from the train station; the smaller one being off to the west of the City in more of a rural setting. Enjoying my new freedom of mobility, I headed west, into rural Thailand to the smaller of the two.
Just across the bridge, the town gives way to rolling fields of bright green crops against a backdrop of mountains, dotted with the occasional open air restaurant characteristic to small Thai towns. The two lane road was paved and hosted a steady, if slight, stream of traffic and the occasional dog warning me from veering too far off my path.
After about 20 minutes, I came to the cemetery, but rode by because I wanted to see the cave temple which would close before the cemetery. The cave was a natural cave filled with Buddah images. I enjoyed the natural beauty of the cave, but most likely missed out on a lot of the specifics as the 7-year-old guide of the group in front of me kept of a continuous stream of chatter.
From the cave, I headed back to the cemetery.
BBQ squid and potato salad
The other day, someone in the new of group volunteers, either with true altruism at heart, or simply because they were sick of Thai food, suggested that we all cook an "American-style" dinner for our CCS staff. The menu consisted of barbecued chicken and ribs, corn on the cob, potato salad, green salad, grilled vegetables, garlic bread and chocolate chip cookies. Everyone chose a task, mine being potato salad, and two of the volunteers went out and bought enough food for 20 people.
That afternoon, the house was buzzing with 13 cooks (and cooks helpers). June, Noo, Air, Erica and Alicia were chopping vegetables in the outside kitchen. Steve, Foon and Damm were working the grills, Russ and Richard were inside working on the garlic bread, Lucy was working on her salad presentation, Bijan was perfecting his convection oven cookies and I was working on the various stages of my potato salad. Foon even threw some squid on the grill to add a little Thai flavor. Everything was ready by six and we all sat down to a delicious meal. It was a really great night watching everyone pitch in and have such a good time. Its really neat how a house full of strangers can so easily become a house full of friends.
That afternoon, the house was buzzing with 13 cooks (and cooks helpers). June, Noo, Air, Erica and Alicia were chopping vegetables in the outside kitchen. Steve, Foon and Damm were working the grills, Russ and Richard were inside working on the garlic bread, Lucy was working on her salad presentation, Bijan was perfecting his convection oven cookies and I was working on the various stages of my potato salad. Foon even threw some squid on the grill to add a little Thai flavor. Everything was ready by six and we all sat down to a delicious meal. It was a really great night watching everyone pitch in and have such a good time. Its really neat how a house full of strangers can so easily become a house full of friends.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Planning Ahead
I am at a point where I am nearing the end of my volutneer placement and am beginning to think about my travels ahead. I am trying to see all of Thailand while I am in Thailand, which will leave me with a more lesiurly pace through Vietnam and Laos. I am planing my first solo trip this weekend to Kanchanaburi to see the Bridge over the River Kwai as well as the many other sites there are to see. I am looking forward to doing this on my own as a mini-trip before I am thrown to the wolves with a month on the road on my own in Vietnam. I may also plan another weekend trip to Chang Mai. I am very much looking forward to both as I have hear great things.
On May 30th, I will be on my second overnight sleeper train ride heading South. I have decided to spend ten days in a Buddhist Meditation Retreat (contemplating life under a tree at the base of a mountain in South Thailand). I've been interested in Buddhism for years, have read a lot on the subject, and feel that since I am here, it would be amazing to experience the practice of Thai Buddhism first hand. There are countless wats in Thailand that offer meditation practice, but I found one that seems to fit with my beliefs and what I would like to get out of a retreat. It is called Suan Mokkh or "the Garden of Liberation," and the retreat focuses on the study of Buddha's teachings and on practicing unselfishness and compassion in everything you do. While I admit that just reading the description of the typical routine makes me want to run screaming, I think that if I can do it, it will be amazing.
After the retreat, I will have one more week at CCS and then the real journey begins...
On May 30th, I will be on my second overnight sleeper train ride heading South. I have decided to spend ten days in a Buddhist Meditation Retreat (contemplating life under a tree at the base of a mountain in South Thailand). I've been interested in Buddhism for years, have read a lot on the subject, and feel that since I am here, it would be amazing to experience the practice of Thai Buddhism first hand. There are countless wats in Thailand that offer meditation practice, but I found one that seems to fit with my beliefs and what I would like to get out of a retreat. It is called Suan Mokkh or "the Garden of Liberation," and the retreat focuses on the study of Buddha's teachings and on practicing unselfishness and compassion in everything you do. While I admit that just reading the description of the typical routine makes me want to run screaming, I think that if I can do it, it will be amazing.
After the retreat, I will have one more week at CCS and then the real journey begins...
Bangkok Hilton
Yesterday Lucy and Eleanor and I went to the Bangkok's Bang Kwang maximum-security prison, aka the "Bangkok Hilton." I had heard that you were able to visit prisoners and thought that if there were any American's in there, it might be nice for them to see a friendly face from home.
In order to visit a prisoner, you must have a specific prisoner that you want to visit. I had called the American embassy and was told that there is only one American prisoner who accepts visitors and she is in the woman's prison, which is a separate location from Bang Kwang. Since there were three of us and only one of her, and more English speaking prisoners at the men's prison, we thought that it would be better for us to go to Bang Kwang together and for me to go to visit the American on my own. All of us felt a bit sick with nerviousness and admitted that we did not really want to go, but felt that we owed it to them to go.
We took a boat from the peir near CCS to Nonthaburi, the northernmost stop on the Chao Praya. The prison is a short walk from the pier and reveals itself as a prison by the two guard towers towering over grounds surrounded by a white wall topped with barbed wire.
We walked to the registration office and asked to see the prisoners whose names we had gotten from a fellow traveller who have visited the week before. We had to provide a copy of our passports and the name of the prisoner we wanted to see. After we registered, we had to have the books we brought from the prisoners, inspected by the guards; leave our bags in a locker (they were adamant that we not have any money) and walked through the large metal doors to the "visitors area."
On the other side of the door, there is a long corrodor to the visitors office on the other side. On either side of the corrodor are halls of visitors booths (with seats and phones separated by glass). In the center, giving it a much more pleasant feel than you would expect from this notorious prison, are long rows of flowering bushes stretching from one end of the corrodor to the other, on either side of a center walkway. We walked to the visitors office, presented our identification and were asked to wait in Room number 2.
Room number two, was just one of the adjoining rows of desks and phones that stretched the length of the corrodor. Each desk had a phone that connected to the booth on the other side of the glass. The visitors sat on one side and the prisoners sat on identical desks on the other side, with not just a peice of glass, but an entire walkway as well as the glass, between. We were all feeling extremely nervious and talked about what we could possibly say that wouldn't sound cruel or horribly ignornat. I don't remember being so nervous in quite a long time.
After about ten mintues, an older man with a big, busy over grown beard walked up on the other side of the glass. He saw all of us there and picked up two phones, putting one to each ear. He's comical demeanor immediately put us at ease and Lucy and I each picked up a phone. He asked if we were all here to see Gary Jones and we said that we had asked to see him, but were told that he already had a visitor. He said that he did, but that he'd love to talk to us. He said that he was from Austrailia, but had been living in England. He asked where I was from and when I said, "Atlanta", he said, "oh ,so you know Peachtree Street." Apparently he had lived in Buckhead for a time.
Before coming to Thailand, Lucy and Eleanor had seen a documentary on the prison and were quite distressed over it. Eleanor said that she recognized Gary as one of the main guys that they had interviewed and that he was in for personal heroine possession. She said that even from the documentary it seemed that he wasn't all that upset with his imprisonment. Our brief interaction with him seemed to show that as well. It appears that the name 'Gary Jones' is well known throughout the backpacker community and he gets lots of visitors. He had an address book filled with names and addresses and asked me to promise to write. Even though Gary's story is likely much worse than it appears on the surface, he demeanor put us at ease and maybe made the mood a little lighter than it should have been.
The two prisoners that Eleanor and I asked to visit were unable to come up, so there was only one young man to speak to the three of us. His name is Julian and he is from South Africa. Lucy spoke to him for the majority of the time, so all of this information is second hand. Apparently he was travelling in Thailand with his Thai girlfriend for 10 months. At one point, they went to stay with some friends of hers for a week or so and during that time they police raided the house and found drugs. The entire household, Julian and his girlfriend included, were taken to prison. This was three and a half years ago. Julian's girlfriend has since given birth to their child who is being raised by his parents in England, who he has yet to see. He has been fighting a court battle of false imprisonment since his arrest, but does not know what the outcome of his case will be. He said he just has to keep fighting. He didn't talk much about the conditions of the prison, but said that they have improved greatly since his initial imprisonment, something he attributes to the media attention brought to the conditions. He also told us that while the foreign prisoners have their leg irons removed after a month and a half, the Thai prisoners have to wear them for the length of their sentences.
We were only able to visit for about half an hour. Lucy spoke to him first and then I told Eleanor that she should talk to him since I had talked to Gary for a minute and because I planned to come back as well. As they were calling the prisoners back to their cell, Eleanor went to hang up and Julian motioned that he wanted to talk to me. He said that he was so happy that we'd come because he rarely gets any visitors and was just about to brush he teeth when he heard his name called and wondered what it could possibly be. He thanked us for coming and I told him that I would try to come again before I left Bangkok. He was only about 24 years old.
When we left the prison, I walked up to a food stall to buy a drink, I thought about how easy it was just then, for us to walk out of the prison, across the street and buy a cold bottle of water - something Julian hasn't been able to do for three and a half years.
In order to visit a prisoner, you must have a specific prisoner that you want to visit. I had called the American embassy and was told that there is only one American prisoner who accepts visitors and she is in the woman's prison, which is a separate location from Bang Kwang. Since there were three of us and only one of her, and more English speaking prisoners at the men's prison, we thought that it would be better for us to go to Bang Kwang together and for me to go to visit the American on my own. All of us felt a bit sick with nerviousness and admitted that we did not really want to go, but felt that we owed it to them to go.
We took a boat from the peir near CCS to Nonthaburi, the northernmost stop on the Chao Praya. The prison is a short walk from the pier and reveals itself as a prison by the two guard towers towering over grounds surrounded by a white wall topped with barbed wire.
We walked to the registration office and asked to see the prisoners whose names we had gotten from a fellow traveller who have visited the week before. We had to provide a copy of our passports and the name of the prisoner we wanted to see. After we registered, we had to have the books we brought from the prisoners, inspected by the guards; leave our bags in a locker (they were adamant that we not have any money) and walked through the large metal doors to the "visitors area."
On the other side of the door, there is a long corrodor to the visitors office on the other side. On either side of the corrodor are halls of visitors booths (with seats and phones separated by glass). In the center, giving it a much more pleasant feel than you would expect from this notorious prison, are long rows of flowering bushes stretching from one end of the corrodor to the other, on either side of a center walkway. We walked to the visitors office, presented our identification and were asked to wait in Room number 2.
Room number two, was just one of the adjoining rows of desks and phones that stretched the length of the corrodor. Each desk had a phone that connected to the booth on the other side of the glass. The visitors sat on one side and the prisoners sat on identical desks on the other side, with not just a peice of glass, but an entire walkway as well as the glass, between. We were all feeling extremely nervious and talked about what we could possibly say that wouldn't sound cruel or horribly ignornat. I don't remember being so nervous in quite a long time.
After about ten mintues, an older man with a big, busy over grown beard walked up on the other side of the glass. He saw all of us there and picked up two phones, putting one to each ear. He's comical demeanor immediately put us at ease and Lucy and I each picked up a phone. He asked if we were all here to see Gary Jones and we said that we had asked to see him, but were told that he already had a visitor. He said that he did, but that he'd love to talk to us. He said that he was from Austrailia, but had been living in England. He asked where I was from and when I said, "Atlanta", he said, "oh ,so you know Peachtree Street." Apparently he had lived in Buckhead for a time.
Before coming to Thailand, Lucy and Eleanor had seen a documentary on the prison and were quite distressed over it. Eleanor said that she recognized Gary as one of the main guys that they had interviewed and that he was in for personal heroine possession. She said that even from the documentary it seemed that he wasn't all that upset with his imprisonment. Our brief interaction with him seemed to show that as well. It appears that the name 'Gary Jones' is well known throughout the backpacker community and he gets lots of visitors. He had an address book filled with names and addresses and asked me to promise to write. Even though Gary's story is likely much worse than it appears on the surface, he demeanor put us at ease and maybe made the mood a little lighter than it should have been.
The two prisoners that Eleanor and I asked to visit were unable to come up, so there was only one young man to speak to the three of us. His name is Julian and he is from South Africa. Lucy spoke to him for the majority of the time, so all of this information is second hand. Apparently he was travelling in Thailand with his Thai girlfriend for 10 months. At one point, they went to stay with some friends of hers for a week or so and during that time they police raided the house and found drugs. The entire household, Julian and his girlfriend included, were taken to prison. This was three and a half years ago. Julian's girlfriend has since given birth to their child who is being raised by his parents in England, who he has yet to see. He has been fighting a court battle of false imprisonment since his arrest, but does not know what the outcome of his case will be. He said he just has to keep fighting. He didn't talk much about the conditions of the prison, but said that they have improved greatly since his initial imprisonment, something he attributes to the media attention brought to the conditions. He also told us that while the foreign prisoners have their leg irons removed after a month and a half, the Thai prisoners have to wear them for the length of their sentences.
We were only able to visit for about half an hour. Lucy spoke to him first and then I told Eleanor that she should talk to him since I had talked to Gary for a minute and because I planned to come back as well. As they were calling the prisoners back to their cell, Eleanor went to hang up and Julian motioned that he wanted to talk to me. He said that he was so happy that we'd come because he rarely gets any visitors and was just about to brush he teeth when he heard his name called and wondered what it could possibly be. He thanked us for coming and I told him that I would try to come again before I left Bangkok. He was only about 24 years old.
When we left the prison, I walked up to a food stall to buy a drink, I thought about how easy it was just then, for us to walk out of the prison, across the street and buy a cold bottle of water - something Julian hasn't been able to do for three and a half years.
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