Sights from a Slow Train to Bangkok

Leaving Chiang Mai,
Headed to Bangkok.
Watching as workers
Wash the train outside,
Mop the floor inside.
Waiting for the engine car. It never comes,
But we begin to move down the track anyway.
Mimosa trees in blossom, reminding us of sweet bouquets in Nice;
Rice fields, moist and green in the morning mist;
But many fields are dry and brown,
Fallow and stubby.
Huge metal silos – full or empty?
Shadowy mountains and a red marble in the sky.
White birds and white cows
Foraging in the abandoned fields,
Startled by the passing train.
Gray water buffalo, acting the tough guys, totally unconcerned.
Thailand’s own scorched earth policy,
Burning the land to clean/enrich it,
Puffs of smoldering smoke in the woods,
All dirtying the air.
In a small town, many, many painted green steps
Guarded by matching gold nagas
Leading up a brown hill.
And then a lone figure in orange robes
Steadily descending the steps.
We wait at the station.
He appears and carefully crosses the tracks
And disappears.
Tall clumps of feathery bamboo trees.
Lanky coconut palms
Clutching their green treasure high out of reach.
An unexpected sliver of the modern world:
A lush green golf course and resort.
In the woods, climbing a hill
The train slows and then stops.
Engines rev.
I think I can; I think I can.
And we do
Climb higher, higher
Through Doi Khuntan National Park
Through a tunnel,
Then into a valley and along a tiny village,
Beside a baby stream
Waiting for the rains to grow into a man.
Station Mai Tan Noi – officers in tan uniforms.
One is waving a red flag
So that we’ll stop.
Three old men sitting at the station
In the shade of the big roof.
Two get on their bicycles and pedal away.
One wears a straw brimmed hat.
Spindly teak trees planted in rows,
Most of their leaves dropped in the heat.
Lacy tamarind trees (now we know them! Thanks, Dtaw!)
And their delicious sweet, sticky fruit.
Everything so droopy and parched,
Dry, dry, dry.
It’s easy to forget how hot it is out there
From our air con train,
Slowly rocking side to side, down the track.
The pouty stewardess comes around with a creaky wagon.
Hands us each a tray of food wrapped in plastic.
No Thai smile there.
It’s mostly rice and 2 thin oval slices of chicken
And a hard-boiled egg
Split in two in a sweet liquid.
A short dodgy-looking plastic cup,
The kind that they’ll use again
(the good news and the not-so-good news)
Filled with water and ice cubes and a straw cut in half
Completes the offering.
One of Barb’s chocolate cookies and a charcoal pill for dessert.
Den Chai – a military camp with
Brown wooden buildings on stilts, a compound
Surrounded by a spiffy blue iron fence, and then
A station with a big picture of the king and
Lots of passengers.
We’re definitely not on a first class train.
Bumpy and rattly, air con comes and goes,
Ceiling fans blow down our backs.
Stops at lots of stations.
Now we know what “special express” means.
On the upside, there’s a choice of toilets -
Squat or throne – TP, and a tiny sink with water!
Uttaradit – big city with a cute guy in uniform.
He tousles a kid’s hair. I like him.
Spirit houses in the fields and even in the woods.
Field workers gathered under tarps
Against the mid-day sun
Processing the crop.
After 6 hours, heading south, the land is flat
And lush, and rice fields stretch a long way,
The most exquisite shade of bright green.
Red roads cut through them
Like ribbons on a Christmas package.
Black and white storks fly up as we pass,
Not scared by the “scare crow” in the field.
Phitsanulouk Station – a middle-aged monk
With a towel on his head
Sits on the edge of the track beneath our window.
Do monks travel on trains?
Bristly sugar cane.
A tall mango tree, loaded with bright green mango ornaments.
A little boy, 6 or 7, sitting behind me,
Presses his nose to the window
Almost as intently as I.
Passengers get off; new ones get on.
When will we be in Bangkok? It’s been 10 hours.
The sun melts into a glassy pool.
The day grows dark.
Fires in the fields and alongside the track
Light up the night sky.
More big cities. Neon and fluorescent lights now.
And we keep going. Thunk a thunk a thunk.
Are we there yet? Echoes of little voices from yesteryear.
Finally, familiar territory. Bangkok station.
It’s 10:30 pm. It’s been
A fourteen hour slice of Thailand
On the day train from Chiang Mai.

Chiang Mai Station

Green green rice fields and red road

Looking down on a monk sitting by the edge of the track

Sunset over the watery rice fields

A Relaxed Day with Tahn in Chiang Khan

As things turned out, we had only one full day in Chiang Khan, the small town on the banks of the Mekong River in northern Thailand, where our friends, the Tiparos family, are spending their own year away. When we awoke that day and turned off the air con in our guest house aerie overlooking the neighborhood, we could hear birds twittering, roosters crowing, the national anthem broadcast over the town at 8am sharp, followed by a long loud list of the mayor’s public announcements, the woman next door ranting at someone, dogs barking, the ice cream man on his musical bicycle (with only one tune, just like at home) – the sounds of real life in a Thai village. The most magical sound was the chanting of monks that drifted over across the river from Laos at dusk.

As mentioned in a previous post, Tahn Tiparos had been a student in my last K class at Breakwater School. I remembered him as a remarkably lovely kid, so well-balanced, easy-going and likeable - in an unassuming and low-key way.  Tahn is now 10 years old and still a delightful person. Chiang Khan is his dad’s hometown and the town where his grandmother and uncles still live. He speaks the Lao language (this border area has changed hands between Thailand and Laos over the years) – and he knows his way around! On our short two-day visit, he offered to show us around while his mom and brother worked on a big school assignment for school back in Portland.

The first thing that Tahn did, in preparation for our outing, was to get money from his own supply of cash. We quickly protested that we would pay for lunch, but he was determined to be the guy in charge and the host. The three of us walked together toward the main street of town, only a couple of buildings away from his home. Just across the street we saw a woman stringing thread on a frame in order to create a comforter with batting inside. At the corner, we passed Than’s grandmother’s house, and then guest houses, little cafes, small shops selling clothes and bags and souvenirs. Lots of t-shirts sported pictures of a bicycle, and some of the shops had bikes as part of their décor. It all adds to the ambience of a place where you can “get away” and relax doing something quaint, like riding a bike. A few tourists, mostly from other parts of Thailand, strolled the narrow street. Tahn pointed out the local hardware store and noted that it was “Chiang Khan’s version of Lowe’s”.

As we passed a store where handcrafts were sold, I slowed my pace. Ever the intuitive guy, Tahn immediately proposed stopping and looking around. He led the way to the proprietor, said a few words, and we were ushered upstairs to look at one of the rooms in the guest house, fitted out with traditional décor.

Soon back on the street, we found a passage to the waterfront where a boardwalk parallels the river, lined with more guest houses and restaurants, some still under construction, all built in a charming, old-fashioned style. Katie, Tahn’s mom, tells us that Chiang Khan has been “discovered” only in the last couple of years, leading quickly to all of this development. Although it is changing the lives of the residents, fortunately it’s the kind of development that attracts travelers who appreciate the quiet, traditional nature of the town. Change has found its way to remote Chiang Khan.
(photo)

Tahn’s neighbor was stringing thread to create a comforter, one of the typical products of Chiang Khan.

Chiang Khan’s version of Lowe’s Hardware Store.

Bruce and Tahn stroll down the street in Chiang Khan.




Toward the end of the boardwalk, Tahn deftly directed us into an open air restaurant for lunch. He spoke to the owner and did the ordering in Lao. We settled in for a lovely meal of pad thai with fruit shakes. We chatted and enjoyed the beautiful scene looking out on the river.

                                              Our handsome host at lunch.






After lunch, we continued our exploration, passing one of the six temples in town. Tahn pointed out, with a tone of bemused interest, that women were not allowed into a particular part of the temple.  Next stop was a mobile ice cream cart, owned by an older gent who gave Tahn a big hug. Dessert was delicious coconut ice cream.

The entrance gate to one of the temples in Chiang Khan

Further down the road, we came to Tahn’s grandmother’s house again and popped in to say hi. With our mutual lack of language, we couldn’t say much more than that. Back on our tour, we came to a woman selling banana wedges that had been fried and sprinkled with sesame seeds. We were pretty full at this point, but Tahn’s hollow leg wasn’t quite there yet, so the yummy banana treats topped it off. I think he wanted us to savor all of Chiang Khan’s delicious assets.

                           Our very cool host ordering fried bananas

At the other end of town, big buses were parked outside of the school, surrounded by high school students wearing jackets that said “Nong Khan”, a city about 50 miles east. I am intrigued by the bus art in Thailand. I had read that young artists in Bangkok were having difficulty breaking into the classic art world and had found their outlet in public art, such as buses. The buses are definitely palettes for wild creativity! I was snapping a few pic’s of the bus, when I suddenly realized that the tables had been turned. A couple of girls were pointing their camera at this strange-looking “farang”. I smiled and they piled out of the bus, clustering around me while one of them snapped. That was my opening to take their photo. They seemed pleased to oblige. It was a great swap all around, with a good laugh thrown in! Cute kids!

Girls from Nong Khan in front of their jazzy bus.













Our town tour finished up with the public schools, all lined up, beginning – appropriately - with primary school, then middle school and high school, where one of Tahn’s uncles teaches. His great-grandfather had been the first superintendent of the schools in Chiang Khan.

Kids on the school playing field. Tahn will be going to school here when he and his family return from a biking trip to China.






We headed back to the Tiparos home, grateful for such a personal look at Chiang Khan. While we relaxed, Katie suggested a Thai massage. Tahn gave Bruce a sample. A massage had been on our ‘to-do’ list, and what could be better than a recommendation from someone we knew. So off we went for massages, Bruce’s first ever!

                Tahn gives Bruce a sample massage. He loves it!







For an hour, as we lay on mats on the floor next to each other, our bodies were rubbed and stretched and pulled and kneaded. I could look out the large open front doors at the guest house across the street and see the sky above it. Our masseuses were not young women. We were clearly in very experienced and capable hands. I found it relaxing and soothing. Though I don’t think that Bruce will seek out another massage experience, I was pleased that he had given it a try.
That evening, Katie, Tahn, and Cody joined Bruce and me for a pre-dinner stroll along the boardwalk to watch the sun set over the Mekong. It was a beautiful and timeless scene.

I love this pic of the Tiparos family! (Wish Dtaw had been in it, though!)

                              Sunset on the Mekong River

Following a simple meal along the street and then ice cream at a popular Chinese resto beside the river, Katie, Tahn, and I walked to a nearby indoor badminton court, where we watched a few matches. The players were extremely skilled. One of them had recently competed in China. It was really fun to see this sport being played so well.  Apparently it’s popular in this area of the world, as we had also seen matches being played under the lights in Luang Prabang. Tahn was itching to get a chance to be on the court one day soon. Watching good playing has that effect. I was feeling the same way.

And so ended a delightful day in Chiang Khan. We had been privileged to see it through the eyes of Tahn, our generous and capable guide, and his family. As change and prosperity wash over Chiang Khan, I hope that the town is able to hold onto its traditions and timeless quality.

The Cobra Capital of the World

Jeab had told us years ago that Khon Kaen is known as the cobra capital of the world. Silly as it seems now, I must admit that Bruce and I had harbored a teeny little fear that we would encounter cobras all over the place. Bruce, especially, has a deep fear of snakes. Fear AND fascination! So, one of the things on our agenda for Khon Kaen was a visit to King Cobra Village.

King Cobra Village is set in a tiny, dusty settlement about 20 miles outside of the city. Jeab took us there with her nephew, First, on the day before we left Khon Kaen. Given its reputation, it certainly was very different from what we had anticipated. Very "down home". We were the only "farangs" there. The venue consisted of some bleachers surrounding a raised stage. Although the whole place was covered by a roof for shade, the sides were all open. Next to the stage, on the ground, were old wooden boxes, which, we were to learn, were filled with snakes. The show was in progress when we arrived. Only a donation was required, collected in baskets that were passed around later in the show. Audience members, consisting of families and local folks, came and went. There was lots of laughter and commentary.

Note the heavy stones on top of the boxes! Reassuring.

We took a spot high up on the bleachers with First. I noticed that Bruce sat as close to the edge as possible, despite not being able to see quite as well there. Having the snakes in anything but thick glass cases was a little edgy for him!

The snake handlers seemed to be known to the audience and ranged in age from 5 or 6 years old to..... well, at least as old as we are. The handler would climb onto the stage, bowing all around to the applause of the audience. An assistant would pick the snake out of its box, using a long curved stick and flop it onto the floor of the stage. Then the show would begin! The handler would provoke the snake by pulling its tail, bopping it on the nose - anything to get it to defend itself and create a little excitement. Agility was the name of the game as the handlers jabbed and then quickly jumped back out of striking range of the cobras, which reared and puffed themselves in defense. A bit like bull fighters. Bruce read later that some handlers were missing fingers, as amputation is the only way to save the life of someone who has been bitten on a finger. We were especially intrigued by the young boy who tangled with a viper of some sort.

             A brave and skillful little showman.

After awhile teenage dancers, both boys and girls, appeared on stage, doing a simple dance to recorded music. I thought it was a lovely diversion until suddenly there was a snake around each dancer's shoulders. In a flash, my relaxed interest snapped to alert attention. The dancers, in unison, waved around their vipers, ending up with the scaly creatures' heads in their mouths! Yuck! We were all glued in delightful horror to this show of bravado!

Hard way to earn money!

The only act that came close to topping this was the guy who put a snake's head into his pants. Hmm. Sounds like the start of a bad joke. When the handlers ended their routine by bringing the big snakes out to the audience, we make a quick exit!

King Cobra Village is obviously a badly needed source of revenue for the villagers, as well as a source of pride in the skill and courage of the snake handlers - and a focus of village amusement! We were certainly entertained!

Khon Kaen - Life in the Northeast of Thailand

One of the reasons that Thailand has proven so fascinating to me is due to the fact that our kindergarten class studied the nation at least 4 times. In 2003, our studies were enhanced by the presence of Jeab, a Thai teacher on a one-year immersion program sponsored by American Field Service.   Deb Smith and I were her mentor teachers while she was at Breakwater School. During that semester, we had taken Jeab on cultural outings in Portland, introduced her to ice skating, and invited her to our homes. Although we had lost touch, for the most part, during the intervening years, we had re-connected when I realized that we’d be traveling to Thailand. And that is why, on Thursday, March 8th, we found ourselves on a bus again, leaving Laos and heading for the city of Khon Kaen in northeastern Thailand.

Jeab was in the middle of a group tutoring session at her home when we called from the bus station. She hoped that we would recognize her after 8 years. No problem. She hadn’t changed a bit - still the same tall, thin, youthful-looking woman with lots of energy whom I remembered from before. She whisked us quickly back to her home to meet her students and her mom, who was excited to greet us. For the next few days we marveled at the vortex of activity that Jeab surrounds herself with. Despite the fact that it was summer vacation in Thailand, she held a couple of classes at her home each day so that her avid high school students could practice and improve their English language skills. In addition, she was planning a big trip to England and France to spend time with her new husband, a Thai man who is studying for his master’s degree in London. They married just last fall.

Our activities in Khon Kaen included climbing to the top of a 9-story “stupa”, a perfect vantage point for seeing the city, as well as an interesting museum of historical artifacts and Buddhist objects and images. It was a very hot day and the sweat was pouring down our backsides at the end! Both Jeab and I got leg cramps while descending. We think it may have been due to dehydration.

The stunning gold 9-story stupa in Khon Kaen.

Jeab demonstrates the use of a pair of balancing baskets for carrying produce. We'e seen some of these in use on the sidewalks. It was fun to try holding one.

View of Khon Kaen from the top of the stupa.


On another day, we helped Jeab with her English conversation class. We took the class for an hour, giving Jeab a break and exposing the students to native speakers. It was fun for Bruce and me to work together and to get acquainted with these highly motivated young people. Several were headed for a year in America. Unlike the teens we had met in Luang Prabang, poor kids who were desperate for a better life, these kids were more like American students, fairly well off and well-supported by parents who wanted their children to have a good education. Class sizes in Thailand are so large (50 students is usual at Jeab’s school) that students need to have outside tutoring in order to have the necessary practice for language development. Apparently, native-speaking English teachers are sought-after everywhere. Anyone up for a year or two teaching in Thailand?

This is the space where Jeab tutors groups of students at her home. I guess I was too busy to get a photo when the students were there!

Jeab’s parents both were generous and gracious hosts. Her mom, a retired teacher, was eager for me to learn to cook some Thai dishes. I was happy to join her in the kitchen, chopping and observing and stir-frying and jotting down things to remember. It was an interesting and, I think, typical kitchen lay-out, with an interior room for food prep and a nearly-outside room, at the back, for cooking and washing dishes. We cooked up a pad thai, a crab in spicy sauce dish, a green papaya salad, some fried fish, and, of course, sticky rice which is a constant here in the northeast, rather like potatoes in PEI! Some mighty powerful machete-like knives and thick wooden cutting boards and a well-used wok and a mortar & pestle made up the tools. Ingredients included lots of garlic, onions, brittle rice noodles, soy sauce, fish sauce, ground red chili powder, limes, lots of ground pork, Thai eggplant. Although we had taken a class in Thai cooking, this was the real thing and was fun to experience.

Cooking pad thai in Khon Kaen.

Jeab's mom, Prakong, preparing crabs for dinner.

Amazing meals come from this little gas stove!

A tableful of Thai delicacies!

On another evening her father, age 79, a retired engineer and a currently practicing lawyer(!), treated us all to dinner at a fancy mall where there was a Korean hot pot restaurant. It was a cook-it-yourself arrangement where thin slices of raw meat were put onto a hot brazier right at the table. Surrounding the brazier was a well, filled with water in which vegetables could be cooked, creating a delicious broth – and a balanced meal!

Jeab cooks at the Korean hot pot.

Jeab's family at the Korean resto.

Other yummy meals in Khon Kaen included Vietnamese noodles, flavorful grilled chicken bought along the side of the road, and Chinese pork-filled buns that I remember our old Vietnamese “grandmother”, Sai Loan, making for us years ago in Portland. It was definitely a culinary "tour de force" of Khon Kaen! The Webb's are growing bigger as we travel!.

silk and sa paper

Fabric: it's such a universal human creation. I'm realizing on this trip how much I enjoy discovering the fabric tradition of each culture that we encounter. In Guatemala, I loved the Mayan weavings in bright cotton and was always slowed by the displays, like a kid passing a candy shop. Here in Thailand and Laos, I have acquired a new appreciation for silk. Not so much the formal, rather stiff fabrics but the natural-looking textile with the incredible subtle sheen when the light catches it just right. Almost magical!

One day in Luang Prabang I set out by myself to find a small, nearby craft village specializing in silk production. Bruce was not interested. I was pretty sure that it was within walking distance and that I could find it alone. Since this is the dry season in Southeast Asia, the earth is parched and the air is HOT and dusty. I began walking, map in hand and water bottle by my side, trying to find just the right pace to get there without being too sweaty and worn out on arrival.

This was definitely the non-touristy side of the Nam Khan River. The road was pretty deserted, save for the occasional dog passed out in the heat alongside the road or a motorscooter zipping by.

A hot dog lazing around a dusty village road.



I passed a couple of quiet wats (Buddhist temple compounds) and was tempted to explore but decided to wait and see if there was time on my return. Eventually, after a sharp turn in the road where the Nam Khan joins the Mekong, I heard the sound of a loom and a "sabai dee" called out. I responded but kept going. The next establishment looked more like a shop and no one was calling to me. It seemed safer to take a peek. As soon as I took a few tentative steps into the packed store, a smartly dressed woman in a pale salmon silk shirt and a traditional silk skirt came from the back and beckoned me in. After my walk in the heat, the sweat was pouring liberally off my body. Not too attractive. She, by contrast, appeared quite businesslike and cool as a cucumber. Of course, she began showing me scarves. As usual, nothing was priced. She tried to reach up to put them around me, but I resisted in my "damp" condition.

Please come in and browse!



I wasn't seeing anything that I liked particularly, until a pink silk was spotted. At this point, I asked a price. She quoted me 130, 000 kip. It sounds like an astounding figure, and I tried to quickly translate into dollars. (Do I divide by 30 or by 8000? I was getting my bahts and kips all mixed up.) Noting my slowness with mathematics, she quickly punched some numbers into a calculator and came up with $16. Without even a feeble attempt at bargaining, I agreed to her price, since I had seen a scarf for the same price at a fair trade shop. At that, she took my money and began flying around the shop, slapping the wad of cash onto her products in what seemed to be a ritual of thanks to the spirits. She was excited!

When she tried to interest me in some of her sa paper products, I asked about the process of making the paper. She then led me out the back door of the shop and onto an open deck area where her silk weaving loom was located and then into her home beyond it to see the wooden frames in which the paper is made. Sa paper is handmade from the bark of the mulberry tree. I knew that much from having seen - and loved it - in Chiang Mai. In a flurry of Lao language, the handcrafter instructed her young grandson to bring out a frame to show me. However, little could be communicated about the process, since we didn't speak each other's language. I moved on, with her grateful thanks.

The village was beginning to take shape from the grassy and woodsy area that I had walked past initially. More home shops were appearing along the rutted dirt road, with fabrics and bags hanging off rafters and on tables in the open, where they could attract passers-by, like me. A couple of establishments were rather high end places offering classes in weaving and natural dyeing, but in a lovely rustic venue. Samples of hand-dyed scarves hung in a rainbow of colors.

Further down the road I could see a couple of buses and discovered that a group of "older" French tourists had arrived. (Since Laos had been colonized by the French, we encountered many more French tourists here than anywhere else.) I threaded my way among them as I watched a couple of young Thai women making sa paper outdoors and leaving it to dry in the sunshine. The paper has a very uneven, somewhat rough, handmade feel and often has flower petals or leaves dried into the final product. I can't say that I really know how it's made, but it turns out beautifully.

              Rose petals and ferns embedded in the sa paper.

       Putting leaves into the sa paper slur.

Sa paper drying in wooden frames in the sun.

It was a fascinating little village to spend time watching and absorbing the work processes.

Chiang Khan: Small Town Life with Friends

Things are moving along faster than I can both experience AND record. So I'l skip Khon Kaen, only temporarily because it was a delightful experience, to tell you a bit about our arrival in Chiang Khan yesterday afternoon. This is a small town right on the banks of the Mekong River in Thailand, looking across the river to Laos. It is where our friends, Dtaw and Katie Tiparos and their two sons, Tahn and Cody, are living for awhile. Like us, they have rented their home in Portland for a year and are having an amazing adventure. Unlike us, they have deep Thai roots, as Dtaw grew up here and his extended family lives here, including his mom, just across the street!

We had met up with Katie and Tahn in Chiang Mai a few weeks ago for lunch and a tour of a beautiful city museum. However, I was intrigued with seeing the more typical small town where they are living. So we made plans to take a couple of buses to get here from Khon Kaen for a couple of days on our way back to Chiang Mai.

We arrived yesterday, after 4 hours on a bus and 1 hour in a sorng-ta-aouw (a truck-like bus with benches along the side for passengers). When we arrived in Chiang Khan, we called Katie and got directions to their home, not far, as the town is small. Hugs and greetings all around were followed by water and conversation on the patio of their home. Nearby I could see the low table, books, and mats where Katie and the boys do their home schooling.

As we followed Katie and Tahn to the local guest house which Katie had found and arranged for us, we were joined briefly by Dtaw's mom. She is a sweet woman who clasped our hands warmly and told us that she has 4 sons who also are teachers, like us!

The guest house is lovely! It is 3 stories tall, and we are on the top floor, with floor-to-ceiling windows all around, giving us the feel of being in a tree house. (I remember the same sensation when I first saw the "new" top floor classrooms at Breakwater!). We can look out over the town and see the golden Buddha statue atop a hill where Dtaw's brother is the head abbot, another tall hill over-looking the town, and also the banks of the Mekong beyond which is Laos.

Dinner last evening was quite magic - outside on mats on the patio where I imagine that most socializing and family life takes place at Katie and Dtaw's home. While dinner was being prepared by Dtaw, Bruce and I joined an impromptu badminton game with Tahn and Cody and a friend on the narrow street (soi) in front of their home. It quickly became apparent that I need some serious practice. Can I use the darkening sky as an excuse for missing the birdie so often?

Dtaw's dinner was exotic and delicious, full of herbs and tastes that were new to us. One dish was created with fish from the Mekong River and was served on a large banana leaf. Another had eggplant in a coconut milk sauce. Fresh herbs were picked from plants beside the patio. No silverware was necessary, as we used balls of sticky rice to scoop up the meal from a communal bowl. Dtaw's mom joined us and, as adjunct hostess, urged us to eat lots of food. No urging was needed: the tastes were fantastic! Dessert consisted of a an incredible banana in coconut milk creation, so simple-appearing but with subtle combo of tastes. Yum.

The boys went off to see friends after dinner. We chatted with Dtaw and Katie about their lives here, their plans for an upcoming family bike trip to China, to be followed by a stint of public school enrollment here for the boys and teaching for Katie. Eventually, we made our way back to our little aerie at the guest house. It had been a delightful introduction to life in a small Thai town. We can't wait to have Tahn show us more!

half way

Hello, webbworldtour readers. Hard to believe that we are a little more than half way through our journey. Bruce, the forward-thinking, never-flagging member of the team, is already pondering and researching the date, cost-effectiveness, and place of departure for our return to Maine in early August. What an incredible job he has done to keep us legal - every country has such complex and unique entry rules - and to have a bed waiting for us at every turn and to have a steady supply of resources so that we have cash when we need it. No wonder the poor man needs his afternoon nap! I am deeply grateful for his hard work to make this all happen.

As you know, my job is just recording it all:   in photos, in blogs, through emails, as well as my journal. Which brings us to the point of wondering whether what we are recording is what YOU are wondering about. Sending posts out into the stratosphere, having no idea where they are landing or with whom or what the reaction is, leaves us in doubt. So, please give a shout here, in the comments section, or by email to lwebb34@gmail.com to let us know. What is it about these fascinating cultures that interests YOU?

Lazy in Laos

Today is our last day in Laos and, after 2 and a half weeks here, we are heading back to Thailand in the morning. Laos has been an unexpected delight for us, with much to absorb, learn and experience. We had no plans to come here until our New Zealand friends, who took a detour here earlier, persuaded us to include it on our itinerary. It was quite an adventure to get to Luang Probang, requiring a two day boat trip down the Mekong river. The city was the ancient capital of the country and a slightly decrepit -but in a good way - crumbling French colonial town . We loved the laid back feel of the place, the good food, and the gentle people. It was a real contrast to Chiang Mai, which is a bustling modern city with lots of mind- numbing traffic and many American fast food chains. In Luang Probang, we could feel ourselves exhaling a bit and slowly getting into the rhythm of what Asia might have been a few years ago. No McDonalds or 7-Elevens.

Since we had two weeks there, we could take some time exploring the various sights and also take time to relax. I have been battling a chronic respiratory infection which only now seems to be clearing up, thanks to our German doctor friend and the time to rest. Our daily schedule included breakfast at our lodgings, a walk around town during the morning when the temps were cooler, a mid-morning fruit shake (crushed ice with fresh pineapple, mango, or banana - delicious) a leisurely lunch, and then back to our hotel for a nap or down time during the hottest time of the day. Around five, we would sip a leisurely Beer Lao - good beer for about $1.20 a liter - and discuss our dinner options. We have been eating out nearly every meal in Asia since it is usually cheaper and easier than preparing our own meals - a common custom here. Not only that, but we have no facilities for cooking!

We have been especially cautious about eating street food and have done so only sporadically - acutely aware of the consequences of a bad choice. Ironically, the only serious episode occurred when Linda ordered a mushroom soup at an upscale restaurant and was sick all night long. Thankfully, she recovered quickly and we have stayed safe by choosing to eat in established (permanent) street front restaurants rather than the portable types. We have found that it is best if the food is prepared in the open, cooked well, and peeled or washed carefully - but you can't always tell so there is an element of risk in a society that doesn't have the same level of food safety as at home. We have tried to be careful but you just never know if a place is completely safe and you have to assume that a place that serves tourists doesn't want to risk making its customers sick.

One of the biggest factors in the laid-back atmosphere here is the heat - which is increasing as we approach April - the hottest month. The mornings are surprisingly cool but by 10am, the heat is palpable and by noon, it's easily in the 90s. Not surprisingly, the folks here make great use of the shade offered by the lush trees, awnings, buildings, and umbrellas. We are surprised by how many people cover up completely with long sleeves, gloves, face masks, and neck coverings. We learned that sun-darkened skin is a sure sign that you work in the fields - as a peasant at the lower rung of society and thus something to be avoided. We also notice that people tend to retreat to their houses during the heat of the day. In the evening, the streets are really bustling as folks tend to come out to do their shopping, cook on the streets, and hang out - in the open. Unlike Guatemala, there is a very active street life and people seem to live outside with little privacy between their living quarters and the street. We see little of the walled-off, private compounds that we observed in Antigua. It also seems much safer here.

We have been impressed by how friendly the Lao people are - especially given their treatment by the Americans and the French over the past 200 years. Of course, 40% of the population is under the age of 14!  We went to an exhibit in LP showing the problem with unexploded ordinance that continues to kill and maim someone nearly every day.  It was sobering to learn that Laos had more ordinance dropped on it during the war in Vietnam than was dropped during all of World War II. Much of this ordinance was cluster bombs which are 500 pound bombs filled with 650 little "bombies" - about the size of a big tennis ball - that are designed to fling their lethal contents far and wide. The problem is that over 30% if these bombies never exploded on contact and remain active and buried in the ground: in rice fields, in streams, and in ditches, mostly in rural areas. People who inadvertently come in contact with these devices can activate them and get killed or seriously injured. This is an especially serious problem with children who find these devices and think they are toys. That is why the Laotian government has undertaken an education program to teach rural children not to touch them. It is also the reason that Laos is a leader in organizing commitments from the international community to never use cluster bombs again. Has the US signed on? We saw no evidence of that.  This was a grim reminder that the impact of the war is still being felt by the most innocent people here.

A sampling of the weapons of mass destruction visited upon the Laotian population during the Second Indochina War - what we refer to as the Vietnam War.

The cluster bombs filled with many, many "bombies", the name that the Laotians use in referring to the small bombs inside the big one.


During our stay here, we had the privilege of getting to know a few young people who are trying to improve their skills in English so that they can improve their chances of getting a decent paying job in the tourist industry. These kids are all very poor and typically from the countryside, but they are acutely aware that their path to a better life is through education and especially the acquisition of English language skills. We were surprised that even some of the young novice monks in the temples are eager to learn English. These kids can enter the wats as early as 10 years of age and often do so because their parents see this as an opportunity to escape poverty or they cannot afford to support them. Many young boys enter the wat and stay for a few years to get an education before leaving to get jobs. Not many actually become full-time monks after their early years.

After two weeks in LP, we embarked on a long, 11 hour, arduous bus trip to Vientiane, the capital of Laos. We had been warned about the trip and advised to take the VIP bus rather than a minibus van. The bus was very comfortable with nice seats and air conditioning, but the road was just unbelievably twisty, rough, and narrow. It's about 230 miles long and winds through high mountains, along cliffs with no guard rails, through small villages, and is the major highway, north to south. The road is mostly paved but many stretches were washed out during last year's flooding and have not yet been repaired. During the trip, we got a glimpse of rural poverty, as well as the beautiful mountainous landscape that covers much of Laos. In one village, as we waited for a huge on-coming truck filled with tree trunks to pass by, we watched out the window as a mom scrubbed her bare-naked little boy under the village water spout. Our huge bus rushed through sleepy villages, leaving us fearful for the safety of young children along the roadsides and small herds of cows or goats ambling across the road. Finally, as evening approached, we pulled into the bus station in Vientiane and found a tuk-tuk to our hotel - happy to be safe after such a long trip.

Vientiane has a large city feel and is not as laid back as LP - but is still less bustling than Thailand. The heat is more intense here, the humidity is higher, and the haze is still as bad as it was in LP. It seems that the farmers in Laos burn their fields at this time of year to promote the growing of mushrooms that they can sell in the market. The result is that the air is thick with smoke which makes it hard to breathe and obscures the visibility. Last night, we went to a riverfront bar to watch the sunset over the Mekong and couldn't see a thing because of the heavy haze. This impacts not only Laos but is worse in Chiang Mai, which has declared an air quality alert because of the smoke. The Lao and Thai governments are trying to stop the practice, but it is still common in both countries and a real health problem for the people.

In reflecting back on our experience in Laos we have been surprised at how much we enjoyed our experience here. Although it was only a brief sojourn, we were touched by the poor kids in LP trying to improve their lives through learning English, the beauty of the landscape, the intensity of the climate, and the gentleness of the people. We were also touched by the people who are struggling with difficult economic and political conditions and doing so with grace and courage.

Hanging out in Luang Prabang

We arrived in Vientiane, Laos, last evening after a 10.5 hour bus ride - on a VIP bus! Although it's always fun to discover the delights of a new city, Luang Prabang is still dear to our hearts. It was the kind of peaceful, quiet city that makes you want to just relax and hang out. The afternoon heat certainly reinforces that idea, and it just happens to be Bruce's idea of a good time. Even I, intrepid explorer that I am, was usually forced to retreat to the shadiest spot that we could find to wait for the slightly cooler evening air to descend - and for BeerLao time at about 5pm!

Here are some of the places that we found where we could be still, trying to exert ourselves as little as possible to reduce the sweating. The photos will also give you a flavor of the city, which I found to be a photographer's dream! Is it a coincidence that many of these places involve food?

I think that this spot with its overstuffed chairs and delicious fruit smoothies, overlooking the Mekong River, was Bruce's favorite, for obvious reasons!

This spot was called "Utopia" and it was pretty nearly that. We spent one afternoon lying propped up on cushions, reading and watching fishermen and kids in the Nam Khan River below us.

This was Bruce's most frequent afternoon locale: our own room. We used the mosquito netting for a few nights but getting tangled up in it in the middle of the night is a little annoying. After consulting with other bungalow mates, we decided that we didn't really need it. Being vigilant mosquito swatters and using the overhead fan seemed to ensure our defense against malaria and dengue fever as effectively as the netting did.

The National Palace grounds were lovely, featuring this reflecting pool filled with carp. It was a wonderful spot to sit - and reflect!

This laid back eating and hanging out venue sits on the opposite side of the small Nam Khan River. To get there, we had to cross over the river on a bamboo foot bridge, which exists only during the dry season. It gets swept away during the rainy season, necessitating the building of a new bridge each year. Once we got there, we sprawled out on cushions and treated ourselves to the most delicious "tasting" platter of LP specialities, like river weed that has been flash dried into thin sheets, similar to nori, and then topped with sesame seeds and peanuts. Yum.

The bamboo bridge made a really cool creaking sound and bounced a little as we walked on it.

We didn't get quite this relaxed but the temple compounds were quiet, gentle places to sit and just BE. Bruce is good at this. Perhaps that's why a couple of young novices approached him one day as he sat (and I roamed around with my camera). They asked him if he was interested in the Buddha. He actually was interested in THEM and their lives in the temple. They had quite a good chat there in the temple garden.

On our last day in Luang Prabang, Bruce hung out with his book here in the cafe of this weaving and natural dyeing center, also overlooking the Mekong, while I toured around to my heart's content.

There is an innocent, unspoiled quality to Luang Prabang. Despite the growing numbers of tourists who are discovering this beautiful UNESCO Heritage Site, it maintains an almost spiritual presence. I can't say that we'll return. The chore of getting there and getting out (unless by air) is a bit arduous, as we learned on our bus ride to Vientiane. That seems to assure that the tourists who do go there are either young and robust or wealthy enough to wing their way. If either of those descriptions fits you, go while it's still so lovely!

The Language Everyone Wants to Speak

One of the delights of staying in a guest house is that breakfast is usually a rather social affair. Here at the Bellevue Bungalows in Luang Prabang (go to their website to see more), we eat outside and often meet new sojourners and hear their travel tips. That was the case with Julie and Alan, travelers from Wales, who told us about a drop-in center in LP where they had been teaching English to eager young learners. Apparently many students here study English but rarely have an opportunity to practice. An American man has hit upon the brilliant idea of using that pent-up tourist desire to "connect" in a useful way, even though the tourists are here for only a short time. Julie and Alan had spoken with such enthusiasm about their experience that I was intrigued. However, I was still too curious about the sights of the city to commit myself to a schedule. That was the first week.

By the second week, after visiting too many temples to count, I was ready to turn my attention elsewhere. I decided to give "Big Brother Mouse" a try. Despite its rather silly name, the center is a "hoppin'" place each evening from 5pm - 7pm. While Bruce rested and read during the hot part of the afternoon on Monday, I found out where the center was located and was there by 4:30pm, ready for whatever was going to happen! What happened was that almost immediately, Lee, a 14 year old student, arrived and sat down with me at a long table. Lee had a small notepad filled with random English words that he had written down, along with the Lao/Hmong translation. He began by politely asking my name and where I was from. After a few more conversational niceties, he went to the sparsely filled bookshelf and picked out a book to read aloud.

Lee and another student outside Big Brother Mouse.

Meanwhile, several other young men trickled in and joined us. They were all teenagers, ranging in age from 14 to 19. Most were high school students who attended school during the day and then filled out their day with this 2 hour session of conversational practice! Many lived with an uncle or other family member in LP, so that they could attend high school. Their parents and siblings were back in their village several hours away. I invited them all to take turns reading the book that Lee had selected. As they read, I would help them with pronunciation; they would jot down words that they didn't know; in between, they would ask me questions about myself.

Eager students and English-speaking tourists crowd into the Big Brother Mouse classroom space each evening.

The book that Lee chose that first evening was a children's picture book about a cow named Cushie Butterfield who played sick on school days so that she wouldn't have to go to school. What an ironic story for this uber-motivated young man to select! I wasn't sure that he could even understand why anyone would want to do that, given the great lengths that he and his buddies went to for their schooling. There also were expressions like "fit as a fiddle" and "under the weather" that I'm sure these kids will never have occasion to use. But there were also some useful concepts like days of the week and colors. The collection of students varied widely, not only in age but also in their English skill level. What was consistent was their gracious politeness and their incredible hunger to learn English, mostly as a way to better their lives through the tourism industry. They were, without exception, delightful!

Big Brother Mouse storefront and classroom

At the end of that first evening, I learned that Lee was going "my" way on his way to catch a bus for his 40 minute ride home. We chatted as we walked together in the warm evening. On our way past the crepe stand, Bruce, crepe in hand, spotted me. We invited Lee to join us for a bowl of noodle soup. Bruce was immediately smitten, as I had been. It wasn't difficult to convince him to come with me the next evening.

So that is how we have been spending our evenings this week. We're not sure that we are helping all that much, but it has been a gift to us in opening up the real lives of real kids here in Laos. The experience has evolved. At the end of our second evening, Yeng asked us to come with him to meet Carol, an amazing American woman who has developed a library and resource center, called My Library (you can google that, too), where young folks gather to use the computers, read books, play games, make puzzles. Though the place was full, it was quiet as could be with intent energy spent on absorbing and figuring out stuff.

Bruce drops in at "My Library", which is filled with kids on this Saturday morning.

Then Yeng took us directly across the street to a temple compound, where his American friend, Michael, teaches English every evening to young monks in a big open building. Michael, as it turns out, is a Bates College grad. He was eager to see us and invited us to return one evening to work with HIS students. We did that last evening, instead of going to Big Brother Mouse. Michael, who has named his small project SMILE, is a one-man English teaching school. He attracts about a dozen teenage monks on any given evening, and they work on learning the language that everyone seems to want to speak. On the evening that we visited, we held conversations with the boys, which gave us a little glimpse into the life of a novice and how a young man would happen to join the religious life. We felt privileged to have this opportunity. Bruce did a great job of creating engaging and fun vocabulary games.

Looking through the gate to Wat Non at the brick building in the compound, without glass in the windows, where Michael holds his nightly classes.

What we have taken away from our quite extraordinary and serendipitous experience is an awareness of not only the impressive drive among the students but also the astonishing commitment of ordinary individuals who have chosen to leave their first world homes to devote their time and resources to improving the lives of these adolescents. It’s been humbling.