Minus the last two Laos trip delaying days of pounding fever headaches and temperature swings like a menopausal woman, we spent our last week at Dokmai Garden. This "farm" was another misleading WWOOF host. There was no farm. There was nothing WWOOF about it. There was only a tropical gardening class that you could take for roughly $15 per day. The classes were taught by a Swedish biologist with a PhD and took place in a botanical garden with 975 species of tropical plants, many of which were native to Thailand. So despite the fact that it would not be free and we would not farm, we did it. Well worth the money. It just so happened that Folbert and Corienne, friends of Eric (the Swedish biologist) spontaneously visited during the first day of our stay. Folbert, a Dutch seed technologist with a side passion of orchids, suggested taking a trip the next day to Doi Inthanon National Park, commonly known as the home of Thailand'd highest point. So for a short time we had two authorities teaching us more than we could want to know. Folbert about orchids, and Eric about most everything else. That was some of my most proud bumming hospitality. It wasn't all learning, but even the learning was fun. We:uncovered a scarab beetle larvae (that shit was gross,) spent over an hour with a Swedish mad scientist trying to burn things with his hand lens, forced sex upon a few orchids, sucked on a white, fleshy cacao seed, gritted my teeth and bared a poorly parented three yr. old, pruned bamboo, watched Mimosa pudica leaves fold inward upon being touched, dug up cassava root, pulled up taro root, cooked casava root, cooked tara root, ate cassava root, ate taro root, walked a huge golden retriever named Reuben, among other things.
After the gardening school, we headed back to Veechai's for one night before planning to take an early morning bus to Chiang Khong at the Thai-Laos border. But my fever that began at the end of our stay at Dokmai peaked and I made the decision to postpone for what ended up being two days. Tomorow we leave no matter how I feel, but I feel fine. At Veechai's we: watched a seven yr. old boy run an extension cord outside the house and into his small tent to power two fans, went swimming in a community pool (legally this time,) had pool experience ruined by a boisterous herd of Chiang Mai youth, ate a grilled ham and cheese, drank a juice box of honey-flavored soy milk, designed and constructed a mini gold course on a house lawn, taught wheel-barrow racing to two seven yr. olds, taught jump roping to to seven yr. olds using a string of tied together rubber bands--real ghetto. Fun times.
Tomorrow it is off to Laos or bust. The fever has passed.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Oh my, Chiang Mai!
In the past 3 days, I ate a fried pork chop with sticky rice for breakfast, gave alms to monks in the form of a chinese noodle dish, received hugs from the trunks of three elephants simultaneously, saw two binturongs hanging upside down, watched an otter recycle, picked star fruit off of a tree, ate star fruit from off of a tree, thought about how star fruit will never taste that good back home, rubbed a one year old elephant's tongue, looked through four used book stores in the span of one block, lived with a Thai family who does not like spicy food, did not pay extra at the zoo to see the stupid panda, ate spare ribs with sticky rice for breakfast, took pictures of Asian tourists taking pictures, took pictures of people pushing giant brass bells along a temple wall next to a sign saying do not push the bells, watched a parrot ride a tricycle, was humbly out-eaten by a 60 year old Thai man, learned more Thai from a seven year old Thai boy named Wich than I had in the previous five weeks, ate Indian food including three kinds of nan with a sheltered New Zealand engineer, wiped elephant snot from my forehead, saw white tigers, lit three sticks of incense (one for the Buddha, one for his teachings, and one for the monks,) lit one candle, received a blessing from a monk at Wat Doi Suthep, got yelled at by the same monk for wearing my hat (CMNH hat) inside the temple, heard an elephant play a harmonica, ate chicken butt with sticky rice for breakfast, jumnped into a swimming pool while holding a small Thai boy, witnessed giraffe foreplay, am almost certain I found Captain Jack Sparrow painted within a temple mural of pious Thai buddhists, finished The Yiddish Policeman's Union by Michael Chabon, and bought airline tickets to the Phillipines.
As an offer of explanation, Lizzie and I spent the past few days with a Thai family in a suburb northeast of Chiang Mai called Sansai. We visited the Chiang Mai zoo, Wat Doi Suthep (perhaps the busiest of the 302 or so temples in Chiang Mai province atop Mount Suthep) during a Buddhist holiday weekend, took their seven year old son to an elephant camp to see the elephants for his first time, and ventured through maybe six different markets around the city. It has been a busy few days, but a great few days.
As an offer of explanation, Lizzie and I spent the past few days with a Thai family in a suburb northeast of Chiang Mai called Sansai. We visited the Chiang Mai zoo, Wat Doi Suthep (perhaps the busiest of the 302 or so temples in Chiang Mai province atop Mount Suthep) during a Buddhist holiday weekend, took their seven year old son to an elephant camp to see the elephants for his first time, and ventured through maybe six different markets around the city. It has been a busy few days, but a great few days.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
10 Days of Mud Stomping, Squishing, and Smearing
Water ushers dirt. They swirl in a whirlpool against the blue-tiled floor until the drain swallows them. The layers of just scrubbed dust begin to clump with hair in the drain's metal grid. I nudge the mass with my toe to clear the drain and I can almost hear a gurgled thank you from the water as it passes my foot. All of my dirt, grounded and washed away. Ten days of clay, sand, and rice husk mortar had absorbed into my skin. The earthen building was part of me for that time. The heavy earthen bricks, the dust of brick shavings, the wet and gloppy mortar now washed from my body. I shampoo twice. I dry off with a towel from a suburban Chiang Mai linen closet instead of the camp towel from the dark recesses of my backpack. It's the little things.
I spent the last 10 days at Ryan Libre's place, 55km north of Chiang Mai. It wasn't a farm, more of a homestead. He has maybe one acre of land where he lives with his Thai girlfriend Non. He has owned the land for eight years and has an adobe hut and has recently finished a beautiful adobe kitchen. Other works in progress when we arrived were a tool shed, a composting toilet, and a mushroom hut where he can grow mushrooms. It may seem like a pretty sparse compound for living there for eight years and it is. The few buildings are spaced far enough apart that you could get lost going between them along the teak tree lined paths. But Ryan spends most of his time elsewhere. He is a photographer and confesses to spend two months per year on his land. The rest of the time he spends in Japan or Burma on various photography projects. His current project is a documentary about the Kachin minority group of northern Burma.
A short historical anecdote: in 1947 the Burmese Independence Army secured Burmese freedom from the British and established the Union of Burma. To do this General Aung San appeased the minority groups by creating the Panglong Agreements which guaranteed the minority groups certain rights. When General Aung San was assassinated less than a year after independence, and the elected prime minister had failed to heed minority demands, the Communist Party of Burma began an insurrection against the government. A cycle of military and political coups would follow, and minority rights ignored. The Kachin people have become increasingly militarized in order to demand rights.
Ryan Libre (Libre is self-named for his interest in freedom and for the word's multiple uses in the Spanish language) kind of chanced into the project by meeting a Kachin officer in Thailand and being invited to stay at the camp. Since then he has documented their lives, their causes for their own freedom, and the means in which they aim to take it. He recently won a major Nikon award for his Kachin exhibition. http://www.ryanlibre.com/contact.html. So he isn't generally home a lot. Nevertheless, it is the place he calls home. The project we undertook with him was to build an office. He wants space for a desk where he can edit photos and documentaries and shelves to store his prints. The office also has a loft for a bed and a veranda. But this earthen building experience was more than helping someone build an office. It was earthen building, building with the earth. It was a lesson of needs, and of fulfilling those needs with the world around you. How incredible it is to see a home, or an office for that matter, rise up literally from the ground.
Lizzie and I left just before finishing the project. We have our sights on exploring more of the area. You can only see so much of a country from a single hilside, so ten days in one spot felt like enough for us. The foundation was dug and cemented. The walls reached almost three meters, a towering collage of tan and red earth. We cut holes from the bricks to fit metal rods for shelves. The next step was to apply a thin layer of plaster to smooth the walls, color them with rust paint, and put up the roof, a matter of a few days. But adventure called us. We left behind a cooling lake, a goofy French engineer, and an amazing Thai cook (Non). Now we are at Vichai's (a family friend of Lizzie) house, making plans to explore Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai, maybe Laos a bit, and trying to figure out how to travel to the Phillipines during the last two weeks of our trip. Who knows? That is the beauty of travel.
I spent the last 10 days at Ryan Libre's place, 55km north of Chiang Mai. It wasn't a farm, more of a homestead. He has maybe one acre of land where he lives with his Thai girlfriend Non. He has owned the land for eight years and has an adobe hut and has recently finished a beautiful adobe kitchen. Other works in progress when we arrived were a tool shed, a composting toilet, and a mushroom hut where he can grow mushrooms. It may seem like a pretty sparse compound for living there for eight years and it is. The few buildings are spaced far enough apart that you could get lost going between them along the teak tree lined paths. But Ryan spends most of his time elsewhere. He is a photographer and confesses to spend two months per year on his land. The rest of the time he spends in Japan or Burma on various photography projects. His current project is a documentary about the Kachin minority group of northern Burma.
A short historical anecdote: in 1947 the Burmese Independence Army secured Burmese freedom from the British and established the Union of Burma. To do this General Aung San appeased the minority groups by creating the Panglong Agreements which guaranteed the minority groups certain rights. When General Aung San was assassinated less than a year after independence, and the elected prime minister had failed to heed minority demands, the Communist Party of Burma began an insurrection against the government. A cycle of military and political coups would follow, and minority rights ignored. The Kachin people have become increasingly militarized in order to demand rights.
Ryan Libre (Libre is self-named for his interest in freedom and for the word's multiple uses in the Spanish language) kind of chanced into the project by meeting a Kachin officer in Thailand and being invited to stay at the camp. Since then he has documented their lives, their causes for their own freedom, and the means in which they aim to take it. He recently won a major Nikon award for his Kachin exhibition. http://www.ryanlibre.com/contact.html. So he isn't generally home a lot. Nevertheless, it is the place he calls home. The project we undertook with him was to build an office. He wants space for a desk where he can edit photos and documentaries and shelves to store his prints. The office also has a loft for a bed and a veranda. But this earthen building experience was more than helping someone build an office. It was earthen building, building with the earth. It was a lesson of needs, and of fulfilling those needs with the world around you. How incredible it is to see a home, or an office for that matter, rise up literally from the ground.
Lizzie and I left just before finishing the project. We have our sights on exploring more of the area. You can only see so much of a country from a single hilside, so ten days in one spot felt like enough for us. The foundation was dug and cemented. The walls reached almost three meters, a towering collage of tan and red earth. We cut holes from the bricks to fit metal rods for shelves. The next step was to apply a thin layer of plaster to smooth the walls, color them with rust paint, and put up the roof, a matter of a few days. But adventure called us. We left behind a cooling lake, a goofy French engineer, and an amazing Thai cook (Non). Now we are at Vichai's (a family friend of Lizzie) house, making plans to explore Chiang Mai, Chiang Rai, maybe Laos a bit, and trying to figure out how to travel to the Phillipines during the last two weeks of our trip. Who knows? That is the beauty of travel.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
A Bump Flattened.
Good news! We found a farm, actually several hours after my last frustrated post. We gave up on southern Thailand and headed north to Chiang Mai. We took two buses and two trains totaling 40 hours of nonstop travel. The first train we took we bought third class seats, meaning we spent 14 hours overnight packed like sardines into two benches facing each other. The farm that we made it to is great, but by no means a farm. We are in the middle of an adobe earthen building workshop learning how to build with adobe bricks. We have spent the last three days stomping in sand and clay mud pits. We have learned so much already.
The landscape is beautiful. Everything lies under a short teak tree canopy. Hills fold upon hills, the furthest of which look like wisps of clouds. They could be a hundred miles away with how clear the air is. The pink hue of the sunsets soak into the flooded rice patties. So far more than good.
The landscape is beautiful. Everything lies under a short teak tree canopy. Hills fold upon hills, the furthest of which look like wisps of clouds. They could be a hundred miles away with how clear the air is. The pink hue of the sunsets soak into the flooded rice patties. So far more than good.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
A Bump in the Road...
If you have been following the blog you may be wondering when the hell I am going to discuss farming. I wish I had an answer for you. We have gone to all of the places we intended to go, but without stopping at the farms. In the last two weeks we have spent some amazing days at Khao Sok National Park (a lush bamboo rain forest,) on Koh Lanta (another gorgeous island,) and in the town of Krabi. Yesterday, Lizzie and I spent the morning rock climbing up limestone cliffs (with harnesses and necessary climbing gear) with the Andaman Sea to our backs. We then spent the afternoon at the beach below and exploring Phra Nang Cave which is accessible only during the low tide. But what about farming!? The blog is called The Farming Binturong, not the Binturong Beach Bum!
I'll start with the Shrimp and Oyster Farm and the now infamous Ms. Alp. We imagine her as a gracefully aging Thai woman, her skin hanging into soft wrinkling folds, but with a heart as hard and cold as a Siberian tundra. She intermittently answers her phone when we call only to say she'll call us back. She never does. This phone tag has been going on for about two weeks, and during this time she has sent two emails welcoming us to come, but never containing her address or a way to find her. Then she friend requested Mason (the other guy on the trip) on facebook with a message attached: "Hi Mason," goading us. In truth, we don't know whether to laugh or be infuriated.
Detlef is the proprietor of the top spa on the island Koh Samui as well as the Rainbow Springs Organic Farm near Khao Sok National Park. He told us last minute that he could no longer take us at our intended date because he had to do some stuff at his spa. So we arranged to float at Koh Samui (which is when we camped at Angthong Marine National Park that I described in an earlier post) for a bit until he got back some three days later. He then told us he would stay at his spa longer So we again floated for a few more days. This time we decided to go to Khao Sok National Park since his farm was supposed to be nearby. Then he told us that the farm was really busy and needed a few days to make arrangements to take us. We told him our Ms. Alp story. He told us to wait a few days. We left Khao Sok and headed south for a few days. We went to the island of Koh Lanta and did an amazing snorkeling day trip. I can't even begin to describe the volume and colors of fish. There were the most vibrant blues and greens I have ever seen and fish with five distinct colors or more. Then Detlef told us the rains in Khao Sok were flooding his farm and he couldn't take us. We could no longer ignore his hints that he didn't want to take us in the first place.
These two farms were the two farms that we had accepting correspondence prior to leaving. They said yes to us a month ago, but now no such luck. We had also started conversations with two other southern Thailand farms. Both of them refused to take us as we tried to rekindle the relationship within the last week. So this morning Lizzie and I emailed six farms in the Chiang Mai region of northern Thailand to see if we can just go north earlier than planned instead of waiting longer on Ms. Alp to answer her phone that may not exist. Even though we are frustrated by the farms, we have found many beautiful, once in a lifetime, and expensive diversions. Lizzie and I battle with the fact that we did not come to Thailand for beaches, but for farms. How can I find the simple mindset/lifestyle I want to bring back to the States while surrounded by leather-skinned tourists who are all on the postcard beach for very different reasons? This contrast weighs heavy on my mind and I can't escape the thought while sitting at those beaches. I am a person of place. I need to move my place.
I'll start with the Shrimp and Oyster Farm and the now infamous Ms. Alp. We imagine her as a gracefully aging Thai woman, her skin hanging into soft wrinkling folds, but with a heart as hard and cold as a Siberian tundra. She intermittently answers her phone when we call only to say she'll call us back. She never does. This phone tag has been going on for about two weeks, and during this time she has sent two emails welcoming us to come, but never containing her address or a way to find her. Then she friend requested Mason (the other guy on the trip) on facebook with a message attached: "Hi Mason," goading us. In truth, we don't know whether to laugh or be infuriated.
Detlef is the proprietor of the top spa on the island Koh Samui as well as the Rainbow Springs Organic Farm near Khao Sok National Park. He told us last minute that he could no longer take us at our intended date because he had to do some stuff at his spa. So we arranged to float at Koh Samui (which is when we camped at Angthong Marine National Park that I described in an earlier post) for a bit until he got back some three days later. He then told us he would stay at his spa longer So we again floated for a few more days. This time we decided to go to Khao Sok National Park since his farm was supposed to be nearby. Then he told us that the farm was really busy and needed a few days to make arrangements to take us. We told him our Ms. Alp story. He told us to wait a few days. We left Khao Sok and headed south for a few days. We went to the island of Koh Lanta and did an amazing snorkeling day trip. I can't even begin to describe the volume and colors of fish. There were the most vibrant blues and greens I have ever seen and fish with five distinct colors or more. Then Detlef told us the rains in Khao Sok were flooding his farm and he couldn't take us. We could no longer ignore his hints that he didn't want to take us in the first place.
These two farms were the two farms that we had accepting correspondence prior to leaving. They said yes to us a month ago, but now no such luck. We had also started conversations with two other southern Thailand farms. Both of them refused to take us as we tried to rekindle the relationship within the last week. So this morning Lizzie and I emailed six farms in the Chiang Mai region of northern Thailand to see if we can just go north earlier than planned instead of waiting longer on Ms. Alp to answer her phone that may not exist. Even though we are frustrated by the farms, we have found many beautiful, once in a lifetime, and expensive diversions. Lizzie and I battle with the fact that we did not come to Thailand for beaches, but for farms. How can I find the simple mindset/lifestyle I want to bring back to the States while surrounded by leather-skinned tourists who are all on the postcard beach for very different reasons? This contrast weighs heavy on my mind and I can't escape the thought while sitting at those beaches. I am a person of place. I need to move my place.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)