Moo.

As life goes in Thailand, so will the blog. Slow and unpredictable, everything—internet especially—is unreliable in Thailand. And so my blog will carry on only as long as my internet connection will allow it, most likely in large installments like this one. I traveled all the way to the border town of Mukdahan, across the Meekong River from Laos, to get a good enough connection to post all of these entries. Hopefully in the future the school connection will be strong enough that I can add daily entries but I'm keeping my expectations low to prevent dissapointent and frustration.

But as you can most likely see from the latest entries, everything out here is going incredibly well and I'm keeping busier than I thought possible. I sleep like a rock every night and haven't felt bored in weeks. I've got plenty more planned in the near future, let's just hope the internet can keep up with me.

40 Baht = $1.00

My rent, though the company I work for pays for it, is 2,000 baht a month. I have to pay for my electricity and water and the cost of the bills combined was 200 Baht. Today I had a hair cut—on par with Fantastic Sam’s—for 40 Baht. Last time the family and I went out for dinner, I bought our entire meal for 120 Baht. A full tank of gas for my motorbike runs me about 70 Baht. Even though I often take trips to the nearby towns the tank usually lasts me an entire week. Beer Leo at 7-11 is 33 Baht. Pirated DVDs are 100 Baht, proper ones cost 200 Baht. A visit to the Doctor and all the anti-biotics you need rarely goes over 150 Baht. Even my 4 day visit in a nice hospital (even by western standards) was cheap. For all my drugs, my own private room with AC, and my foot surgery I paid 40,000 Baht or roughly $1,000.

$750.00 a month doesn’t buy me much at home, but its equivalent 30,000 Baht per month out here is living the life.

Falang Bahn (My house)

This is the view from the drive way, my house to my back, the family's home to my left and the street out in front. That's my motorbike parked in front.
This is my humble bathroom. It's nice by Thai standards. The blue thing on the floor is my squat toilet and to flush it, you have to use the yellow bucket to scoop water out of the green trashcan and wash it down the pipes. On the top right you see my shower head, a small sprayer that only has cold water. There is no sink and only a small mirror on the right.
Here's my living room, or main entrance, or what ever it is. I don't really have any furniture so this room just sits empty. If I had a couch or a table and chairs this is where I'd put it. That's my shoe rack next to my front door.
Here it is, my not-so-fabulous but perfectly fine bedroom. On the left is where I do "work" on my computer and on the right is where I sleep and read. Other than that, there's really nothing to do in my room. It's all too basic and there's really nothing to do in there. That's why I'm always out-and-about. Or maybe I'm out-and-about all the time and that's why I don't spend any time decorating my room. Either way, I won't have to do much when I move out.

Thai Christmas

For the first time in their lives, Mon, Min, Bam, and Tam decorated a Christmas Tree. Using a small, fake tree instead of a freshly cut pine tree didn't bother them one bit. As if they knew about Santa's list of naughty and nice, the kids worked together to decorate the tree with stars, little bells and candy canes, waiting until the end to place the star on their short tree.

While decorating, Bam (in the blue shirt and grey sweats), was singing "Ingle Bell, Ingle Bell, Ingle all la way... Oh wah-wah-la, la, la..." in tune, but without any of the proper lyrics. Still, I was impressed by both her knowing the song and by her sincere Christmas cheer. Doesn't she know that Santa can't visit their house when they don't have a chimney?
All of us posing with the tree, which will now sit in the living room waiting expectantly for—small—wrapped presents to be placed beneath it.

Perhaps it should have waited for Christmas Day, but the kid in me couldn't wait to break open Twister and have some good, old-fashioned American fun. It took only a small lesson of new English vocabulary and all the kids could play with zeal. Though they had fun, Thais are still hesitant on the Twister mat, because showing, and especially touching someone with, the bottom of your foot is a big, big no-no.
With Twister and a Christmas tree, I think all the kids are ready to travel to America to give it a try.

The Family Farm

This is a collection of pictures from the family farm about 20 kilometers out of town. They have rice, sugar cane, rubber trees, charcoal kilns, cows, chickens, as well as numerous fruit trees. This is Mon, Min, and I standing against the edge of the field of sugar cane.

Here are saplings of the newest field of rubber trees. These are only a couple years old and will need to mature at least another four years before they can start to harvest the rubber. They have seveal different rubber trees farms on the property already yielding one Baht per day.
This is the edge of their biggest rice field, just days before harvest. I was supposed to be out there to help cut the rice, but they were waiting for the weekend and I got off with just walking on the grounds.
Looking back on one of the fields, it's rice as far as you can see. In two full days, 20 people will cut the entire crop, collect it, and "hit" the rice of the stalk. That should be enough rice for the year, plus a surplus to sell for profit.
On a walk across the newly planted sugar cane field, Pee Took found a large clump of mushrooms growing around the stump of a tree. Knowing they were the type Pee Meaw thinks are delicious, Min collected them in his shirt until Pee Took found a large banana leaf to make into a bag.

A single tree stands on the field as the sun setting starts to create natural hues of purple and orange in the sky. This also meant the mosquitos were out in full force biting at any uncovered skin.
Pee Took bent down a tall stalk of sugar cane and ripped off the feathery flower from the top to give to Min. Min carried it around as a young King carrying around a septer.

Stacking Sticks and Balancing Stones

On the same day we went to Wat Chedi Chai Mongkon, we also stopped at a smaller Wat before heading back to Buakhao. This Wat was far more modest in comparison to most Wats, let alone Chedi Chai Mongkon. Still, this was one of my favorite places in Isaan because of its superstitions.

Though still called a "Wat" this particular place was, for reasons unknown to me, more of a holy place around which some holy buildings were constructed. I recognised to purpose for any of the buildings and saw no monks walking around, but we weren't there for the main grounds, but for the spiritual hike up the mountain. When we got out of the car, we were met by a gang of kids sprinting over to us. They immediately tried to sell us food to feed the fish in the pond but when we politely declined, the three boys and one girl, tagged along with us for the rest of our stay. They lead us back through the Wat to the mountain behind and lead us up to a pathway of stairs leading up. Starting slowly, we hiked up the trail walking on stairs about every 10 meters or so. We could never see more than around the bend and thus never knew how much farther we had to go.

Early in our hike we saw a small, weathered shrine with stacks of carefully balanced rocks all around it. Curious of the meaning I asked our young tour guides. They explained that whoever collected rocks and then balanced them, one ontop of the other, was destined to a long life. The stack of rocks in the right foreground of this picture is my stack which is hopefully still standing at this very moment.

After balancing the stones, we went back to our hike and began to really sweat. The hike went on and on. Around each bend we hoped to see the top, but instead were faced with more and more stairs. It was 400 meters up, which in reality isn't so bad, but we were all dressed up for the Wat, in long pants and long sleeves, sweating like pigs. It was evident we weren't the only ones struggling to make the hike to the top though, another superstition of stacking sticks was created to give strength to those making the hike.

Around every turn, where there were large boulders, hundreds of sticks had been placed to "support" the rock. As the children explained, by placing a stick to support the rock, it was giving you good luck on your hike and giving your legs strength and "support" to make it to the top.

At the top of the hike was a huge rock ledge and under the shelf sat three Buddhas decorated in flower bouquets and orange robes. The rock face, like the boulders on the hike up, were also supported by large and small sticks each placed intentionally to look as though it was actually holding the rock in place.

In the raining season off the top of the ledge is a small waterfall that would have been just what we needed to cool us down. But now, in the cool season, the waterfall is dried up and we were forced to make the hike back down before we were able to cool off.

Gee-ow Kao

At first my students didn’t recognize who I was, after I returned to school after rushing home to change into a long sleeve shirt, cargo shorts, hiking shoes and my Tigers ball cap. A teacher in clothing more casual than the student’s uniforms, the kids didn’t know what to think of me. Their best clothing, when the kids realized who I was their first question was, “Teacher, where you going?”

“Geeaow kao,” I answered, shocking them again. Though Thais don’t have sarcasm, they assumed I had to be lying or joking: Why would a falang go to cut rice?

Pee Nok arrived on her motorbike moments later, traditional farming hat in hand, and we drove out the main gates of campus and out of town.

At 4:00 in the afternoon it begins to cool off just slightly, as the sun starts to hang low in the sky. Only several kilometers from school, we turned off the main road onto a dirt path, Pee Nok leading us through a village of familiar smiles. At several of the homes, mothers and grandmothers rested on small decks under the shade of large trees, watching their kids brave the last of the day’s heat, running around with the chickens. We wound through the village, then through rice fields until we come to a large tree under which two motorbikes are already parked. We left ours with them, and Pee Nok gave me the traditional farming hat and a bottle of water.

Following Pee Nok’s instructions, I downed the water as we walked on the raised path between the already harvested rice fields back to where three fully clothed people were cutting rice. Everything covered except their eyes, they were quickly moving down the field by hand.
One of the men took break to come over and teach me how to cut rice. He handed me a small scythe and then we walked over to the grains for practice. He demonstrated first, collecting the stalks with the scythe, then grabbing them with his hand, then ripping the knife towards himself, cutting it all loose. He did this several times slowly, making it look very easy.


At first, with a little help from the man, I took to it quite easily. The actual cutting was easy—the blade was sharp and the rice isn’t exactly thick. But collecting it, slicing and repeating—quickly—was no easy task. As I watched the Thais do it, they were quick, efficient, and swiped, cut, repeated very quickly. I constantly got myself tangled in other weeds, cut the rice unevenly, and shook half the grains onto the ground being careless in handling it.



A half an hour into the tiresome work, I started to get the hang of it. I still wasn't as quick as the Thais, but I started to help them out more than I slowed them down. I collected handfuls of rice and then, as I was taught, bent over the already-cut grass, and laid down the rice atop to be recolllected later. For the time being I was having fun, but hunched over in the hot Thai sun, this was not work I coudl do every day. The novelty of working in the field soon wore off and the monotony set in. Staring at handful of rice after handful of rice, I felt like I was making little progress. But soon I looked back, and the four of us had harvested a full field. For all my (secret) boredom, I felt a sense of accomplishment after finishing an entire field.

The rice cut, it was now time to collect it and haul it over to one central spot in the field, under the shade of a large tree. Tying the bundles of rice together, they carried them over to where they had a bamboo pole set up. They set the rice on each side of the pole and then when full, carried it off on their shoulder. Convinced I could help here better than I could with the scythe in my hand, I attempted to carry the bamboo.

Obviously absent of any padding, the bamboo was not comfortable resting on my shoulder. It was also far heavier than I had expected. Who knew rice could weigh so much? Once hoisted up though, I refused to put the rice back down until it was where they wanted it. Constantly struggle to keep my balance and not trip on the way, I stumbled across the field to the center of the field. My shoulder aching, I threw the rice on the ground and wondered how they were able to make it look so easy. As is visible in the picture above, some ladies chew on beetlenut, a strange natural drug around here. It gives an energetic, addictive high perhaps similar to cocaine. Many old ladies chew it incessantly, making their gums and lips messy with the red juice from the nut. High as a kite, they hardly mind and continue their back breaking work.

Even more difficult is harvesting a rice field like the one above here, where the wind has blown the crop over on its side. Here they must bend over even farther and basically harvest it right off the ground. Either way, its a pain-staking process that here in Isaan, is still only done by hand. For all those times I have been sick of rice and have been quick to throw a bowl of it aside, I know eat every last grain off my plate, understanding the trouble that was gone through to harvest it.

Luck at Wat Chedi Chai Mongkon

I left Khao Wong when the roosters started crowing and a red-orange sliver of the sun had just risen over the mountains in the distance. A small lake reflected the cool morning’s stillness and as I sped off down the empty road, the breeze actually made me feel a little chilly.

The countryside was still waking up. Stray dogs were still sleeping in the middle of the street, some only casually raising their head to watch me speed by before falling back asleep. Farther down outside the Wats old ladies kneeled on the side of the road with baskets of sticky rice waiting to give monks daily alms. The monks, barefoot in bright orange robes, patiently walked out of the Wats onto the road to collect their only meal of the day.

Arriving at home I had time for a shower then walked outside to see Mon and Min dressed politely—long pants and ‘nice’ shirts—ready to go to the Wat. I could tell it was a special occasion; they had the family’s digital camera out. It was obvious the kids didn’t use it often; they were taking pictures of everything. As we waited for Pee Maew’s sister-in-law, Pee Dop, to pick us up the kids took turns taking pictures. Min snapped shots of tall white mushrooms springing up in the front lawn and Mon took pictures of red ants eating a praying mantis just before Min kicked it, scattering the ants and causing the mantis to fall apart.

Pee Dop arrived with breakfast, Nori Seaweed Lays Potato Chips, and we headed out on our adventure. The smell was enough to stunt my appetite for any food at all. I politely refused some breakfast, explaining that falang don’t eat potato chips for breakfast. As the sun continued to rise into the morning sky, we drove east towards Laos in route to Wat Chedi Chai Mongkon.

Halfway there a snake slithered across the road in front of us, nearly becoming road kill. It set off a commotion in the car—what I first thought to be fear, but was actually excitement because, they explained, seeing a snake on the road is good luck.


I hadn’t realized there was A/C on in the car until we arrived and I stepped outside then immediately started to sweat. A large dirt parking was surrounded by tourist traps: stores loaded with useless crap and cheap toys irresistible to kids. In the parking lot nearly a dozen people had set up small tables selling film, each one by stacking the small film boxes up into a pyramid. Small carts sold som tam, sticky rice, cokes, and hot coffee. Pee Meaw bought us each a coke, poured into a plastic bag with ice, that we cared by its handles and drank with a straw. As we walked onto the Wat’s grounds we walked past some old men selling traditional, hand crafted Thai instruments.

Gold six-headed snakes called Nagas protected the main entrance of Wat Chedi Chai Mongkon from evil spirits. The Wat had many other classic pieces of Thai Wats—statues of monks, elaborate gardens, gold chedis—but this Wat was very different than any other I’d ever seen. Usually the Wat is different than a church in that it isn’t single, large building of worship, but many buildings on the land, each with its own specific purpose. Here, however, although there were smaller chedis around the main building, it had a huge main structure with six different floors. Even the most famous Wat in Thailand, Wat Phra Keaw in Bangkok, only has rooms to enter and never a staircase heading up to a second floor. Here, there were enormous chambers with high ceilings, elaborate paintings and detailed moldings gilded in gold.

The center of the first four floors each had huge Buddha’s surrounded by large bouquets of lotuses, large orange candles, and elephants with ivory tusks. At the base of each of these alters were fine rugs, upon which we knelt, wai-ed the Buddha and bowed three times.

The higher we climbed in the temple the more spectacular the view over-looking Isaan was but, especially at this arid time of year, the view over the harvested rice fields is little to behold in comparison to the Wat. Still, the height was great enough that Pee Meaw started to get freaked out and she refused to go anywhere near the edge saying that even looking out made her feel as if she were falling.

The steep stairway up to the final floor was indoors but it still gave Pee the heebie-jeebies. Just sitting at the base of the spiral staircase she looked worried about how tall it was. At first she said there was no way she could make it up there, but with a little convincing from the kids, she agreed to brave the hike. It was the first time she had confronted her fear of heights, but this time was worth it; at the top was a shrine encasing a bone sliver of Buddha.

I thought the walk down would be the hard part and going up would be no problem but as the stairs went higher they also became smaller and wound more tightly. I have a modest fear of heights and I was a little uneasy about walking up. Pee Meaw was freaking out. Watching her made me worry because I thought she could faint at any minute. She had a death grip on the railing and was visibly breathing heavy; her eyes were flooded with worry.

Pee crawled up the final steps and when she reached the top, she scrambled across the floor away from the stairs to a place she thought to be safe. The room was painted serenely, fluffy clouds on a powder blue sky, again border by gold trim. The shrine of the Buddha’s bone was elaborate but it was impossible to actually see the bone. We assumed it was there, perhaps felt its presence, prayed to it, then Pee Meaw began her long walk down stairs. Again, I was worried for her, but scooting the whole way down on her butt, Pee Meaw made it down without a problem and felt proud she had overcome her fear.

On the way out we stopped on the fourth floor to ring the bell. A large brass bell, we each struck in an odd number of times for good luck. On the ground we stopped at a fountain and attempted to throw coins in the fish statues’ mouths, again, for good luck. I was wondering how much this good luck was really worth and just then Min, after failing to throw the coin in the fish mouth, stepped in a huge wad of gum. Perhaps there was something to the good luck.