Rice Planting

I was trying to think what could make this entry have a unifying theme and finally I came up with it, the rainy season. Once again the rainy season is once again upon the verdant valleys and forests and I am now convinced that it is by far my favorite season. The days get no hotter than the mid 80s (Farenheit) and the nights are cool, usually in the high 60s. Although it rains most everyday, the rain is intermittent and provides a refreshing coolness that revitalizes every living thing. The rain comes down in torrents, but lasts usually no longer than an hour. After the rain releases its watery grip the cotton white clouds disperse releasing the brilliant blue of the sky behind. The birds particularly seem to like this respite and are out in force. The rain revitalizes and invigorates everything and turns the landscape into a green paradise.

The early evening, the couple hours before the sunsets, has always been my favorite time of the day. The wind dies down, the harsh heat from midday relaxes and the rays from the sun cast a glowing light which is ever so artistically interrupted by the blackness of the shadows. In the mountains of my site are especially amazing during this time of the day and even more so during the rainy season. The clouds are giant white monsters until the setting sun catches them and turns them into glowing apparitions of immeasurable beauty. Every evening the mountains that frame my village are draped in a unique sea of light and clouds. I often enjoy the view from my hammock, but the best way to fully be awed by the changing nature of this time of the day and season is to take a bike ride on the many paths the crisscross the forest.

The beginning of the rainy season also marks the beginning of the rice planting season. Last year I moved to my village just after the rice had already been planted. It had already grown several feet and was displaying its neon green shoots. This year I have been able to see the process from the beginning. I think in areas with more advanced agriculture this process may differ to some extent. Most areas of the world, in particular the country I call home, have seen almost the complete mechanization of farming. This couldn’t be further from the truth here in Karen country. A small enclosed area that is usually part of the rice patty is planted early in the season. The rice is planted in a compact manner because these seedlings will be transplanted later on in the year in a more dispersed arrangement.

Last year I was privileged to be able to harvest the rice with Karen people and this year I was fortunate enough to be able to plant the rice as well. I was hanging out at the local branch of Compassion International when I was whisked away for my first rice planting experience. In one area a few men were tilling the rice patties while in another the women were rhythmically placing the small green shoots into their new home in the thick grey mud covered by several inches of flowing water. Although planting rice was not nearly as difficult as harvesting, or strenuous for that matter, it still made me feel rather inadequate.

The women were effortlessly extracting three or four small shoots of rice and effortlessly placing them in tidy rows. All the while, they navigated their feet in between and around the previously planted rice that was left below and behind them. I was handed a bundle of rice seedlings and jumped into the mucky mess. It didn’t take too long for me to realize that I was not most efficient rice planter, but I was getting the job done. I started at the same place as the other women, but after only about ten minutes I was at least fifteen feet behind. I figured that my neat rows and attention to detail would make up for my lack of speed, but as you can imagine, that wasn’t quite the case. When we finished one patty, I looked back and my section and not only were my rows crooked, unlike the women’s nice little shoots sticking neatly out of the water, mine were sticking out in all directions and I’m pretty sure that in most of them I used to many rice seedlings. I guess you live and you learn!

Can Sounds Be Worth 1000 Words?

I have really come to appreciate how sounds can really give each place its unique character. Many people go to the desert for its eerie silence while others enjoy the rolling rumbles of the waves in the ocean. It is often when completely surrounded by nature that one truly enjoys the subtle inspiration that sound can have. Although submersion in nature often yields a unique experience the sounds of a rural Thai village, enveloped by the surrounding forests and alive with myriad sounds, has come to be one of the most memorable parts of my Peace Corps experience.

Luckily, my village has yet to be truly engulfed by sounds of modern day life that seems to sap the spirit out of most communities. You hear more roosters than you do motorized vehicles. My hammock overlooking the village has proved to be a perfect vehicle for my enjoyment of the cacophony of sounds that emanate from all around. At any given moment countless sounds are begging attention from your ear.

There is the clank of the Karen bells tied around the cows that meander down the road and disappear into the forest. A rain storm that is visible in the distance slowly beats it way to the village where it endlessly patters away. The background noise provided by the crickets is punctuated by the songs of the birds and the occasional croak of a frog. The call of a rooster in the early morning from an adjacent village slowly escalates into a chorus that resounds from every village. As the village speakers sound the call for announcements or church attendance with a monotonous gong the dogs provide their own interpretation with howls of every tone. The quite chatter of kids playing in the forest is interrupted by the low sputter of a passing motorbike. In the late evening the buzz of the cicadas and the groans of the frogs drown out all other noises. Even the bees buzzing in the small purple flowers in front of my house contribute to this oh so unique environment.

I have sometimes thought about recording the sounds so that in the future I wouldn’t forget. Unfortunately not even the most sophisticated recording device could capture the vibrancy in each on of those individual sounds while contributing to the composition as a whole. To truly experience and understand it effect one must truly be present. The only recording that I will retain is the one ever so delicately etched in my brain. It will undoubtedly be with me forever.

Song Kran Chiang Mai

I have been pretty delinquent in keeping my blog up to date in the last couple months. I guess that stems from several different factors. One, and probably most telling, I have just been too lazy. Two, it seemed to me that for all the effort I was putting into writing these blog entries it seemed that very few people were actually reading it. Well, I have had several requests to continue writing so I feel obliged to fulfill those requests. If you are actually reading the blog send me a comment and let me know what you think and suggests topics that you might want to hear about. The third and final reason is that I have now been here over a year and there seems to be little novelty in my everyday life. I actually think that there are many interesting things to be related to my friends and family back home, but then we’re right back to that original excuse...laziness is difficult to overcome!

In the middle of April I was once again fortunate enough to partake in yet another Song Kran festival (Thai New Year, but really just a big drunken water fight). The only difference was that instead of spending it on the district capital (amphur) I got to partake in this party of all parties in Chiang Mai, purported to have the best Song Kran festival in Thailand. My first year in Thailand I was inundated with not only water but also the Buddhist ceremonies that go with the festival. I was taken to wats (Buddhist temples) to “tamboon” where we would place sand, collected earlier in the river, on to temporary chedis. I was also Thai napped and taken on all day drinking binges that were characterized by hundreds of people, not one of which was sober, following a pickup truck with six foot speakers mounted in the bed and blasting Thai music around the town. The party would enter each wat and proceed to dance, drink, and throw water in this place that I once consider the epitome of serene and austere. Well this year I, along with about 15 of my fellow Peace Corps volunteer friends, decided that our Thai experience just wouldn’t be complete unless we got the commercialized farang friendly version of this Thai holiday.

I arrived in Chiang Mai on a Friday afternoon and the party began. We decided to go out on the town to celebrate our escape from our isolation in our small Thai villages. That was our first glimpse into the craziness that the next few days would bring. We decided to go to Thai clubs and found out that Song Kran really was a Thai holiday and it was virtually impossible to find a club that wasn’t overflowing with Thais from every region of the country. Three of my friends and I enjoyed an absurdly large bottle of Thai whiskey that turned out to be enough alcohol to kill an elephant. Even being the four weathered veterans of rural Thailand whiskey drinking festivals that we were, that bottle was still half full the next day. We went from one Thai club to the next and eventually called it an early night so we could get up early the next day to “len naam” or “play water” if you prefer English.

I woke up early, but not in any rush, and headed out with a few friends to “play water.” I suppose before I start this commentary I need to provide a physical description of the city of Chiang Mai. Chiang Mai is a bustling Thai city in the northern region of Thailand. The center of the city is surrounded by a rectangular moat with remnants of the ancient walls that once protected it. The city has long since chaotically spilled out in all directions from that original center and now fills the entire valley. Despite this fact, the area within, and near, the enclosed area of the moat is the tourist and nightlife area of Chiang Mai. The moat water is a pea green color and can be described as anything but clean, but it somewhat ascetically appealing. No one goes near the water 51 weeks out of the year. During Song Kran it is the epicenter of the epic water fight.

We approached the moat and immediately understood what “Song Kran Chiang Mai” was all about. Thousands of people lined each side of the street next to the moat and traffic was at a standstill on the road. The traffic consisted of hundreds of pickup trucks overflowing with Thais that were rambunctiously engaged in the water fight dipping water from 50 gallon drums placed in the back. The people who lined the streets were dipping buckets attached with strings into the moat in order thoroughly soak everyone who passed. Water guns of all shapes and sizes adorned the backs and hands of many people and many people found it fit to just take a lazy dip in the moat. The sides of the streets were packed not only with the partygoers but also with entrepreneurial Thais selling water guns, buckets, and of course ice. Ice was the x-factor. Everyone is wet so throwing warm murky moat water on someone who has had warm murky moat water thrown on them for the past hour just really loses its appeal. Now standing in the tropical Thai heat and blasting someone with ice cold water is a different story. That never gets old!

It being an outrageous festival and the group of us feeling a bit outrageous ourselves, we decided to stop in front of a pub that was blasting Western music and had a sizable group of both farangs (foreigners) and Thais dancing and “playing water.” We soon found out that not only were there Thais and farangs but also the always outrageous “gatueys” or “lady boys.” They were the most enthusiastic people “playing water” and basked in the spotlight. They would stop traffic in order to do their signature cat-walk down the middle of the street, all to the boisterous jubilation of the crowd. We “played water” there for hours all the while drinking delicious Thai beers that by the end of the can was surely three quarters of that ever so appealing moat water. I was sure I was going to die of a mysterious water-borne disease, but here I am still kicking.

In other parts of the city there were huge stages in set up where bands were playing and of course copious amounts of water were thrown. Even in the out reaches of the city it was impossible not to get soaked by the young Thai children enjoying this festival, which has to rank as one of the top festivals for children in the whole world. At night the Thais settled down and stopped playing water, but that didn’t exclude you from getting soaked by the over-eager farang.

With a little variance this is how the next four days continued to pass. The nights grew increasingly crazier and meeting another male volunteer the following morning with a full face of makeup and no idea how he got it elicited little more than a few snickers. To be honest, a story just does not do Song Kran justice. It really needs to be experience first hand. For any of you who think you are intrepid enough to take it on, is only a short 10 months away!

Fishing: Karen Style

The other day I was privileged to go on a fishing expedition with my friend Da-Na. He had talked about taking me down to the river to “look for fish” for quite some time and we finally got around to going. The river runs fairly close to my house but we had to hike for a little over an hour to get to the best fishing area. We followed the river for a short while and then cut up through the mountains. As we went through the forest Da-Na was constantly showing me plants that you could eat as well as the ones that have medicinal value. The forest here is exploding with orchids. Attached to nearly every tree is a myriad variety of these exotic flowers. The forest here is a thick green jungle during the rainy season but as the dry hot season progresses the leaves fall and the forests is transformed into a different world; a world of the orchid. A few of the orchids were starting to bloom and Da-Na assured me that in a few weeks the forest with be ablaze with yellow, red, purple, and white orchids. I can’t wait to see that! Orchids are prized by the villagers as well. Nearly every Karen porch is adorned with them. I decided that I wanted to have the same for my house and Da-Na has insisted on fashioning me some orchid holders made out of local trees. One of these days soon, when he is finished with the holders, he said he will take me out to the best part of the forest to collect orchids. I’m pretty pumped! It’s amazing how much knowledge all the people here have about the forest. It is a knowledge that is passed down from generation to generation as the kids venture into the forest with their parents.



Being in the forest is second nature to them. While I had my hiking shoes and breathable clothing, my friends were wearing flip flop sandals and long sleeve shirts to protect them from the sun. A large portion of the river near my house is flat and sandy with few rocks. Where we journeyed the river was rocky and absolutely gorgeous. Little waterfalls spill clear water into deep pools that bordered by green saplings. In between the rocks the sand creates inviting pools and there are stretches of flat sand interrupted by the small rapids. The river bank is adorned with tropical trees and bamboo, all in a different state of foliage. Some are green year round while others are turning red and orange and all of this is complimented by the yellow foliage of the changing bamboo. I’m going to be making some trips to camp near the river here soon and it will definitely be on the agenda for my family when they come to visit.



When we reached the river the fishing began. Now this is not the American toss your line in the river and wait for a fish to bite. Our fishing expedition, including Da-Na, his wife, and his cousin, were outfitted with little spear guns, nets, and goggles. I wasn’t sure how they would go about fishing, but soon I found out. Da-Na threw on the goggles and dove face first into the deep pools surrounded by rocks. He stuck his head into every nook and cranny and soon apparently spotted some fish. He said some things in Karen to his wife and soon she was off searching for some unknown implement. She came back with a small bamboo rod and Da-Na quickly make two cuts in the end. His wife then busted out what looked like a smoke ball fire cracker. Da-Na placed it at the tip of the bamboo and lit it. I think the first time he didn’t quite get it where he wanted it and the little “smoke ball” exploded with force. Water went splashing everywhere and I think my ear drums were permanently damaged. Everyone had a good laugh and then he quickly pulled out another one. This time I kept my distance, but Da-Na was more prepared. He lit the firecracker and quickly stuck it deep under the rock. A faint thud was heard and soon small stunned fish were being snatched up by the fishing crew. The fish in the river are at the biggest six inches long and the majorities are large minnow sized which according to Da-Na are much more delicious than the big fish that can be caught elsewhere. We made our way up the river in a similar manner until it was time for lunch.

Da-Na busily made a fire and his wife started preparing the “cold gang” which consisted of roasted peppers, some sort of lime like fruit we collect on the way to the river, onions, herbs, water, and some other ingredients I wasn’t sure what were. Bamboo sticks were gathered and the fish, without being gutted, were speared onto the sticks and roasted over the open fire. Several off the whole small fish, guts head and all, were placed into “cold gang.” All the ingredients as well as rice were packed into banana leaves. We sat to eat and I went about trying to extract the small amount of meat from the small aquatic critters that were placed before me. Da-Na, with a chuckle, said that you could eat there whole fish, no problem. I took his word, but decided that I wouldn’t eat the head, guts, or fins. It was fun and the cold gang was actually pretty tasty.


In the late afternoon we started making our way back to my village. We ran into several other boys fishing and chatted for a while. There were not quite as accomplished at fishing as Da-Na, but still managed to get a few fish. We made it back to the village and sat down for some Karen tea and some friendly chatting. After a short time I was on my bicycle back to my house for a good nights sleep! I’m just amazed at the experiences that I continually have living here in the mountains of northern Thailand. I will never forget them!