Why can’t Canada get more rapid transit?

Canadian urban dwellers should be envious of SE Asian rapid transit users. Both Bangkok and Singapore have extensive mass rapid transit (MRT) systems very much like Vancouver’s SkyTrain system, with connections to their airports.

Bangkok’s SkyTrain lines connect seamlessly to interurban rail systems and bus lines. Unlike Vancouver’s gateless system, both the Bangkok Transit System and Singapore MRT users go through turnstiles on both entry and exit. Payment is by distance: plastic cards are either loaded with specific fares at ATM-like fare machines; have credit that is debited for each trip; or acts as a fixed-time pass.

In Singapore, the fare at the machines includes a SGD$1 deposit for the card, and is refunded at an SMRT station. (The lack of used ticket stub litter would be reason enough to switch to this sort of system in Vancouver.)

The urban landscape reflects the value of the MRTs as well. In both cities, MRT stations are hubs for shopping, high-density housing and interconnected transportation services. In Singapore, the parks tend to be situated a bit further away from hubs so urbanites can walk away from where they live and shop to enjoy common green areas.

Granted, both Bangkok and Singapore are much larger than any Canadian cities. However, as we face more and more problems with urban transportation, Canadians should pay attention to such examples of what can be done with mass transit.

Watch those exchange rates!

We thought we’d planned things pretty well for leaving Thailand. After buying some food for the plane, and donating the remaining loose change, we had four 1,000 Thai bhat (BHT) notes in hand to exchange to Singapore dollars (SGD).

The posted rate at the airport was 22.66, so our 4,000 BHT would be 176.52 SGD. The exchange booth wasn’t near our gate, so we decided to wait until we arrived in Singapore to exchange our notes. First mistake…

Everything on Tiger Airline flights is “extra” but we had expected that no-charge water would be available. Unfortunately not—so when we asked for some water, the smiling hostess unscrewed the caps and passed them to us. “That will be $6.40 sir.”

For two small bottles of water? Yikes! I found my wallet and pulled out one of the notes. “Uh, sorry… all we have are 1,000 bhat notes.”

“No problem sir. At our onboard exchange rate of 27.14, that will be $30.40 less the water, so here is your change in Singapore currency…” Mistake number 2: carry smaller notes!

We arrived very late into Singapore—and learned that Tiger Airlines flies into the “Budget Terminal” instead of the modern Changi terminal. The currency exchange booth was still open, but the rate was 23.53—much better than the rate on the plane, but still more than at Bangkok.

Withdrawing cash from an ATM incurs additional bank charge fees, but having to exchange currency adds even more to the effective exchange rates.

Returning is so much easier

As we left our plane from Saigon, the signage and halls of Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi airport had a welcome familiarity. Immigration was quick and hassle-free; our bag arrived shortly after the carousel started, and the customs clearance was a mere wave.

As we turned out of the arrival hall, a sign with our names on it greeted us: we’d arranged online for a car to bring us to Pattaya, and she was there waiting for us. A few minutes later, we were ensconced in the air-conditioned comfort of a new car, and our 21-year old woman driver was whisking us along the highway.

We’d booked a room at the Orchid Guesthouse—again online with only email confirmations—and were greeted at the gate by Brian, the new manager. We paid the driver, checked in with Brian—and were settled into our room less than 2 hours after landing.

Online bookings help make travel so much easier—but returning to a familiar place certainly helps take the edge off of arriving!

Akha Hill Tribe home stay

How do travellers locate an authentic, old-style Akha village in which to enjoy a home stay?

Enter an NGO called AFECT Asia, which kept on surfacing as a highly recommended outfit after we started our research on the Internet. Founded by the late Dutch anthropologist Dr. Leo von Gesaw, this organization is dedicated to helping the Akha maintain their traditional way of life, culture, language, and animist religion.

After browsing AFECT’s website, we booked a 7-day trip with them, which would involve a 4-day/3-night stay at Sai Jai Pattana village followed by a four-night stay at their Chiang Rai dorm, where we would travel with AFECT staff and visit other villages.

Our guide, interpreter and host for most of our stay was Athu Pochear, director of AFECT’s many Akha projects. After spending a week together, he would become a friend with whom we’ll stay in touch. He’ll help match our skills to volunteer projects when we return.

After booking our seven-day stay on the Internet, the stage was set: What would our home stay actually be like?

Our four days with Apae and Megah Pochear at Sae Jai Pattana village proved to be a moving, special opportunity to participate in and learn about the Akha hill tribe’s way of life prior to volunteering. We were warmly welcomed by our hosts who shyly stated they thought we may not be comfortable at their home. Surprised, we asked why.

After an exchange in Akha, Athu explained Apae and Megah’s concerns: “It’s the roosters. They’re so noisy! They crow at 1:00, 3:00, and 5:00. And then there are the dogs.” Gazing at the roosters, hens, chicks, and dogs in the yard, we thought to ourselves that yes, it would be noisy.

“Please, don’t worry,” I said. “We are here in your home and village, eager to stay and experience your ways. If it’s still okay, may we stay?”

Megah beamed; Apae nodded. Megah showed us our room: a king-size cot with typical hard Thai mattress. The toilet was a shared squat affair, outside in a corrugated iron hut with a cold water faucet serving as shower.

Perfect: with basic needs met and gracious hosts, we’d be a-okay.

And so our first evening began. Beckoned upstairs onto the shaded, breezy verandah of their bamboo home, we shared a whiskey with Apae and Athu’s 87-year-old father, Aq Bawl – “grandfather.” Megah placed steaming bowls of delicious, carefully spiced foods onto a low, circular bamboo table. She and Apae had prepared dinner over the two open hearths in their dirt-floored kitchen. Akha men usually cook the meat, and certainly cooking dinner together seemed a pleasure for this obviously loving husband and wife.

Accompanying us for the four days were Leeja and Edd, young Akha men who would be our guides, translators and companions. Between mouthfuls of rice, green beans, buffalo meat, and other unidentifiable but delicious foods, they explained the morning drill. After breakfast at some undetermined time we would head on a jungle trek, which sounded both interesting and exciting. “The boys” were eager to show off their AFECT projects, their village, and their capabilities.

Immediately after dinner, at 8:30 p.m., everyone went to bed: this would be the pattern of our stay: early to bed and early to rise .

The roosters crowed boisterously right on schedule. Dogs joined in, greeting the dawn. Repeatedly. Sleep was banished. After feeding the chickens (a chore I eagerly adopted) Megah served breakfast and I helped with dishes. Then it was time to herd the cows (well, more accurately, follow their lead) down the village lane to their pasture: this became our morning rhythm.

The four days sped past: the jungle trek revealed AFECT’s water irrigation project whose source was a spring bubbling out of the forested hills. A two-kilometre pipeline led to a hillside demonstration garden and that afternoon we would witness Apae joining the last segment of pipe and seeing water spout forth to irrigate the test garden.

Leeja proudly showed off his personal project: building a set of 15 rice pounders on the banks of a reservoir, where water would be power the mechanisms. Considering that women traditionally laboriously pound rice by primitive foot-powered technology, Leeja was rightly proud of his efforts. Another day’s hill walk revealed the swidden agriculture whereby field crops are rotated, allowed to go fallow sometimes for several years, and regularly burned. Other explorations took us through emerald-green rice paddies where women and men were doing the backbreaking work of planting rice.

On our last day we met a shaman, Akaw Ayi, who spoke to us (via Athu’s interpretation) of how she helps the sick and troubled by being a direct link to the spirit world.

Would we recommend an Akha home stay with AFECT at Sae Jai Pattana village? Definitely… with a couple of cautions: accommodations are rustic – and some Akha foods may prove challenging if you’re squeamish or a strict vegetarian.

Is it worth expanding your comfort zone? Absolutely. After all, Akha and other people who adapt to our world are equally challenged by our customs.

We both would like to return to volunteer in an AFECT project.

The Akha: Thai hill tribe politics

The Akhas are one of ten or so hill tribe peoples living in northern Thailand. Their ancestral homelands included Tibet and China’s Yunnan province, but due to territorial conflicts the Akha are among many of the world’s displaced peoples who have migrated to other lands. For approximately the past 200 years, Akha have lived in Burma, Laos, and Thailand.

Their history, in other words, is a journey – and it’s far from being over.

While travelling in the Land of Smiles, we hoped to stay at and experience a traditional and hence “authentic” Akha village. It proved more challenging than we’d anticipated. That’s because although Thai tourism promotes tribal peoples’ colourful costumes and quaint lifestyle, hill tribes are a largely disenfranchised people in crisis. This is true not only for the Akha, but also for other hill tribes such as the Long-necked and White Karen, LaHu, Yao, and Lisu.

What crisis? It appears that the majority of hill tribe people do not qualify for Thai id cards, neither can many own land or possess passports. Therefore, movement within Thailand let alone legally to Burma or other countries is impossible.

Moreover, the Akha traditionally live in the mountainous regions, preferring to establish villages on the saddle of a ridge. They have an agrarian (swidden) lifestyle and are superb hunters in the jungle-forest habitats.

Such traditions immediately create conflict with the Thai government. One reason is because of the forestry industry: the government’s attempts to control it, create plantations of non-fast-growing pine, and establish some forest preserves mean the Akha (and others who live further down the mountain slopes) have been compelled, quite literally, to move their villages out of newly designated forestry preserves – sometimes at a moment’s notice. Some claim they’ve woken up to find saplings planted in their rice fields in an obvious move to hasten their departure and emphasize their disenfranchised status.

Repeated, forced evictions translate into loss of hope and culture. It produces poverty because as the Akha and others like them are relocated further and further down the mountainside, their traditions and agrarian livelihood directly compete with not only other tribes but also, the lowland Thai people. Due to population pressures, these fully recognized Thai citizens are encroaching further and further up the hillsides. Not only are relocated hill tribes being forced to share their villages with one another (causing increased inter-tribal competition and necessary compromises to further dilute their unique cultures), they must also mix with the Thai.

In one sense, we could nod and say “it’s the way of the world.” But this sort of comment is easily thought and spoken if one is respected, employed, and secure. However, if you are a hill tribe person or community witnessing the unravelling of your culture, loss of identity is bitter and depressing. At best.

Another problem for the hill tribe peoples is degradation and loss of their traditional beliefs and culture due to possibly well-intentioned missionaries. Many Akha speak with sadness if not barely concealed outrage over “the Christians” who build missions (including not only churches but residential or non-residential schools). Just as we have experienced in Canada with our all-too-recent troubled history of enforced residential schools for our First Nations peoples, the Akha and other hill tribes are losing their identity thanks to planned, organized erosion of their culture.

The Akha are animists who have a firm belief in the spirit world. They build and tend spirit houses, spirit gates, and perform many sacred ceremonies wherein the spirit world is woven into their daily lives. In Chiang Rai I saw many beautiful animist spirit houses pushed over and broken. Desecrated. When I asked my Akha guide what had happened, he replied, “It’s the Christians; they do this to us to discourage our belief and try to convert us to their varied faiths. I’ve never understood why there are so many types of Christians: can’t they even get along with one another?”

Good point and the answer is… No.

As merely one example of obvious inequality, it was discouraging to see a Christian mission being erected on the dominant hill of a Karen village outside Chiang Rai. The immense, obviously expensive church was under construction; however, the missionary’s home was complete and stood behind an imposing iron gate.

It is better to give than receive, Christ taught. But when animist hill tribe villagers live in seemingly eternal poverty and the missionaries place a donation box outside their grand edifice, who is eternally giving, and who is receiving more than their due?

With residential schools and missions being built, continual challenges to procuring Thai identity cards, and all the other challenges to Hill Tribe traditions, it seems as though these diverse cultures may be doomed.

But then again, their lives are a journey and so far, they’ve survived myriad setbacks. I hope they continue not only to survive, but to prosper, also.

The power of words

The term “swidden” is defined as “an area cleared for temporary cultivation by cutting and burning the vegetation.”

Now consider how differently we might react to the following two sentences:

1. The Akha people practice small-scale swidden agriculture to grow food for their families.
2. The Akha people use slash-and-burn methods to clear land to grow food for their families.

Both have the same meaning—but the choice of one over the other certainly conveys a different message. And if #2 is chosen in a government report about the impact of the Hill Tribe people on the environment, how can it not imply a bias?

This is but one of the problems facing the Akha people of northern Thailand. Even if it were initially unintended, the bias gets picked up by subsequent bureaucrats and the media—and before you know it, it becomes “common wisdom” that deforestation and the subsequent water shortage causing imminent rice crop failures are due to primitive practices of the Hill Tribe peoples.

But could these problems be the result of climate change and long-term precipitation cycles? Or be accelerated by the loss of vast tracts of tropical forests plundered for their hardwoods by “friends” of governments in the region? Such alternatives are harder to explain to an electorate than to set up a scapegoat.

The swidden methods certainly look pretty scary when you see haze in the air or get close to a fire as it blazes through dry bamboo. However, such burning also kills weeds and insect pests, while restoring some nutrients to the soil. Traditionally, the plot would be used, then allowed to go fallow for many years before the cycle repeats.

The official solution to the declining forest resources (and subsequent assumed water problem) has been to move villages (often forcibly) to lower areas, and to declare the uplands as forest reserves. In many places, this has meant reforestation with pine trees—hardly a native species, but suspiciously like a future cash crop.

Like many, I reacted with horror to the burned areas we saw as we explored the hill region. After learning a bit more, and seeing how the people use swidden methods, I’m not so sure it is such a bad thing.

The alternative of farming intensively in the same spot with herbicides, pesticides and fertilizer is unlikely to be a more suitable solution.

Doi Chaang coffee’s Canadian connection

We do like our coffee, and the instant coffee so commonly served in Thailand just doesn’t make the grade.

So when a day trip to see the Doi Chaang coffee plant and nearby coffee growing plantations came up, we jumped at the opportunity. A bit of research had shown us that coffee from this region has a Canadian connection, and is considered to provides some of the finest beans in the world.

Nor were we deterred by the fact that it would mean spending a whole day in the back of an open pickup truck ascending steep and winding roads…

The road leaves the pavement to climb up the side of a ridge covered with cultivated “fields” on steep slopes. At the top of the ridge, our AFECT guide, Edd, pointed out the two distinctive peaks that give the region its name: the shapes of a mother and baby elephant (“doi” is mountain; “chaang” is elephant).

When we went over the ridge to descend into the Doi Chaang area, the mixed crops changed to dominantly coffee—most under the shade of mixed fruit trees.

A Royal horticultural project was set up to encourage local people to switch from opium production to coffee. Dozens of coffee plant nurseries along the road, and plantations extending far up the slopes show that the program has had the desired effect.

The Doi Chaang factory is a collection point for high-quality locally grown coffee. The beans are separated from their red berries in a multi-step process: first by bruising them with a light crusher, then moving them through three different washing vats—each for a full day—to remove the husks. The raw beans are then spread out to dry in the sun.

The dried beans are packed into sacks and warehoused for shipment. The warehouse was about half-full when we visited, and it was mind-boggling to think of how all the sacks could possibly be trucked down the road we had just come up. Edd explained that there is an alternative road, although he said it was pretty bad in some places too.

As a joint venture with a Canadian group, a big part of the production ends up in Canada—primarily Alberta, but also BC and Ontario.

The name hadn’t mean a lot to me until I saw the company brand showing an Akha man with a turban. Then it struck me that we’d enjoyed a delicious latté in Calgary in October—and at the time I’d noted the unique logo!

* * *

After enjoying a delicious coffee at the plant, we re-boarded our pickup truck and continued on through the village. The return road took us along the side of the valley we’d seen on our way up. This set of 41 Flickr pictures shows some of the highlights. If we decide to return via Thailand in the fall, we will certainly plan to revisit this route.

Jungle lunch

“We’ll hike over there.” Edd pointed to the hills beyond the cleared ridge west of the village of Sae Jai Pattana. We were about to set out on a full-day trek with three Akha villagers. “Wear good shoes.”

Good advice—for us. He and Leeja wore old runners, and Apae wore flip-flops! The trail took us down past fallow and newly-planted rice fields before ascending the ridge and following a newly-laid water pipeline to its source in a spring located higher in the jungle above.

Apae was carrying some cement to seal the small dam at the catchment end of the line, and pushed ahead while Edd and Leeja shared their knowledge of the Akha uses of vegetation as we hiked along the creek.

My first stirs of anxiety about lunch came when Leeja scooped up a little minnow I had noticed in the creek. “Here,” he passed me a bamboo tube, “we can put them in this!”

Within moments, he had several more minnows—and then a crab, and a shrimp-like creature. When he pulled a frog out from under a muddy rock, I knew lunch would be a challenge.

Edd took the tube to help Leeja, and I joined Katharine to examine the nearby bamboo spirit house built to ensure good water. Apae finished his dam, and as the small reservoir started to fill, we scooped out leaves as all three men collected more lunch ingredients.

We then learned how important bamboo is to the Akha people. Edd split a small length and cut out the dividing parts to make an elegant sluice to provide a clear flow of spring water to clean the catch. Leeja had split a larger diameter piece of bamboo to form a two-section troughs: one side for the items to be cleaned; the other to hold them after cleaning. Meanwhile, Apae made a small fire near a bamboo grove, and filled two bamboo tubes with water, positioning them so the heat would boil the water before the containers dried enough to burn.

It was all very well timed: when the water boiled, Apae added some leaves and the ingredients, while Edd used another bamboo trough to pound chilis, salt and garlic into a paste. Leeja had split a small bamboo length to act as a spit for the frogs (after basting them with some of Edd’s paste).

They’d brought some leaf-wrapped sticky rice for each of us—and some chicken for the second dish in case we were too squeamish. Apae even fashioned some perfect chopsticks.

Leeja chopped a few banana leaves from a nearby tree and laid them out as a mat and serving area. Lunch was ready.

The ingredients were certainly the challenging part for us, but the preparation was immaculate—and fascinating.

And the food? Tasty enough, but memorable to say the least!

Chilling in Chiang Rai

There we were, enjoying views of the countryside from the front seat of our Chiang Mai to Chiang Rai bus when Eric gasped, “Move over, man!” nanoseconds before the sickening crunch.

Our driver had slammed into a truck parked on the shoulder of the highway. It was a clear, sunny day with no traffic. Intriguingly (to us) the two saffron-clad monks who’d been chatting with the truck driver high-tailed it down the highway. Inauspicious to be at the scene of an accident? Who knows?

And, who knows what would happen to our driver, who was emotional about the accident.

Within an hour, another Green Bus had collected us all, and we arrived in Chiang Rai only 50 minutes late. Athu, from Afect Asia, a Dutch NGO with which we’ll be travelling and doing some volunteer work, met us as arranged and whisked us to Afect’s headquarters. Due to my chest and throat cold, we requested altering our trek start from February 4 to Feb 8. Fortunately, they could accommodate this request and, after a welcome cup of herbal tea and a chat with a Spanish volunteer worker, Athu brought us to our guest house.

Baan Bua Guest House is an oasis in downtown Chiang Rai. Resembling a small motel, its emerald green and ochre facade overlooks a tidy garden where tables and chairs allow us to have meals, a Chang (Elephant brand) beer, or simply chill and read. Vivid clusters of orange blossoms on immense vines and the chatter of red-cheeked bulbuls emphasize the oasis ambiance: after seeing some of the other guest houses, we’re glad to be here. Co-owner Tim, with her husband Brian, is absolutely fluent in English, having studied in Texas for two years. Delightful, attentive, informed: it’s wonderful to really be able to chat with a Thai beyond the basics!

Cooking Thai style

Taking a cooking course seems to be almost as cliché for tourists to Thailand as getting a massage. We’d experienced the massages and loved them, so why not try cooking too?

We sifted through the plethora of courses available, but the “organic farm” aspect of Thai Farm Cooking School jumped out at us. Even better, the booking office was close to where we were staying, so we booked for the next day. At her recommendation, we had a good lunch opposite the office—ironically, at another cooking school!

For 1,900 bhat (~C$55) we had a full and interesting day—and probably the best food we’ve had yet in Thailand.

Katharine covered more details in an earlier post, but you can also view our set of 31 images taken during the class as a slide show (click the “Slideshow” button in the upper right).

The popularity of cooking classes surely must be a boon for Thai food exporters: imagine the effect of hundreds of cooking schools throughout the country providing positive experiences every day to many thousands of tourists…

When we are back at Spiritwood, I know we will certainly seek out local suppliers for some of the ingredients for some Thai dinner parties—after reviewing our recipe book and making some dishes for ourselves first of course!

Exploring in Suthep-Pui National Park

On Monday Mr. Horse swapped his tuk-tuk for an air conditioned truck. Picking us up at 8:00, we left Chiang Mai behind, ascending the nearby forested mountain which is known as Suthep Pui National Park. Our destination? Wat Phrathat Doi Suthep, the symbol of Chiang Mai. Here we climbed the 306 stairs to enter the Buddhist temple, wandering about and appreciating how tourist observers such as ourselves easily mix and mingle with the devout. We always marvel at the Buddhists who accept being the focus of attention. We know that back home, worshippers in most organized faiths would not be as welcoming of tour groups and photographers in their midst while they pray.

Leaving the Wat we continued our ascent, visiting the Royal gardens at Phuping Palace. Although beautiful, we felt it unnecessary for the Royals to insist on charging an entry fee: why couldn’t people be allowed to appreciate the gardens in the same way we Canadians can freely explore and enjoy Rideau Hall?

After visiting Baan Tong Luang the day before, you can bet we were eager to visit “real” villages so on Mr. Horse drove, climbing still further up the narrow hairpin road which suddenly became single-lane. The road ended at Khun Chang Kiang village where Eric and I strolled its dusty red-earth lanes and wooden homes. Shouts of laughter beckoned us: we discovered a group of schoolboys getting their heads shaved at Srinehru School. A gay banner welcomed visitors, and the boys smiled at the camera, continuing to shave one another’s heads with what appeared to be very dull shears. Eric declined getting a cut…

We retraced the narrow road and stopped at a lookout to see a tidy village in a valley below. Seeing our interest, Mr. Horse turned off the main road to take us to Doi Pui, another Hmong tribal village. Narrow, wending streets led us to the village heritage museum. Entry was 10 bhat apiece. Although exhibits were dust-covered and sparse, they were nonetheless interesting—but the piece de resistance was the “sample house.” Sample indeed: it was being lived in and was full of refuse, plastic bags and detritus. No windows and we thought it was emphysema-inducing just to step inside.

Beyond it, however, was the real highlight: a terraced garden extending up the mountainside where cascading water made its cooling sounds. Amaryllis were in full blossom as were opium poppies – part of the museum display apparently – and many other blossoming plants. Three pavilions beckoned us onward and after the ascent to them on narrow Nepalese-like stone steps, we appreciated the astonishing cool breezes which rewarded our efforts.

Time. It does have a way of passing. We descended to greet Mr. Horse who returned us to Lai Thai… And none too soon: it was a long but fun 9-hour day.

Getting around in Thailand

Getting to places can appear overwhelmingly complicated when the language is different—and even more so when its written script is not even remotely familiar. But visitors do get around, so it is simply a matter of figuring out how everything works.

In Thailand it seems totally chaotic at first. Small pickup trucks with welded tubular frames and sideways seating toot as they approach to indicate that they have room for you. In Pattaya, there was usually no indication of where these “bhat buses” were going, but we found that they made loops along popular routes: if we found ourselves turning away from our destination, we could push a buzzer button and hop off—paying the driver 10 bhat each (~30 cents).

The bhat buses fill up as they make their way, and if you are brave, you can hang on to the looped tubing at the back and actually see things a lot better. The view from inside is limited—but while the outside view is great, the prospect of potential bodily harm if the driver has to make a sudden stop is rather daunting!

A map is a good thing to have, although most drivers have no idea how to read it even if it is bilingual, showing the Thai. We found that landmarks are best: with the name of a hotel or a shopping area, bhat bus drivers were good at getting us there (or at least close).

The “tuk tuks” we’ve been using in Chiang Mai are small motorized tricycles with fairly comfortable seats and a canopy top offering similarly limited views. They weave in and out of traffic with just finger-breadths to spare and seem only marginally safer than the ubiquitous motorbikes.

On Saturday we needed to buy intercity bus tickets by going to the Arcade bus stop in Chiang Mai. Our destination would be Chiang Rai, and we’d been advised to book at minimum two days in advance to procure tickets because there are only 16 or so seats available on any day… We hired a tuk tuk to get us there: 140 baht. We liked our capable, fun driver whose name was Mr. Horse, so hired him for the rest of the day: the total for 5 hours was just 400 bhat (~$12)! Moreover, we hired Mr. Horse for the next two days: he safely transported us to Baan Tong Luang tribal village and to the Wat overlooking Chiang Mai.

It just goes to show that the real costs here are not labour, but fuel and capital.

The long-haul buses are a very reasonable way to get around too. We reserved two seats on an overnight bus from Pattaya to Chiang Mai for 725 bhat (~$22). It took 11 hours, was air conditioned (to the point we were glad to have the provided blankets!), and they served water, juice, and more snacks than we could eat. What was particularly interesting was that the driver and full-time assistant were in the front, completely closed off from the passengers. The immaculate attendant also put on the video for everyone to watch. Incidentally, this bus arrived in Chiang Mai 45 minutes ahead of schedule.

Getting around is much easier than it looks—and inexpensive methods are quite comfortable. Looking online first helps; as does having a decent map. Fortunately, the language issues are seldom a problem: just smile and ask and just like us, you’ll discover someone will always be there to help.

Chiang Mai: Nearby Baan Tong Luang Village

Mr. Horse the tuk-tuk driver proved indispensible to us: for a great price he transported us about Chiang Mai to a variety of handicraft outlets and galleries. With the breeze keeping midday heat at bay, he safely negotiated the sea of motorcycles, cars, other tuk-tuks, bhat buses – and pedestrians leaving us time to look about and appreciate the heartbeat of the city.

He soon understood what we were interested in: culture, nature and handicrafts. Soon he was making recommendations and, after a nanosecond of deliberation, we placed ourselves in Mr. Horse’s capable hands.

Off we scooted to Baan Tong Luang village. Think of Upper Canada Village – but where the traditionally costumed “animators” are authentic hill tribe peoples who live and work on the farm. This put what at first appeared to be a disappointingly over-the-top tourist venue into perspective. Politically, the hill tribe peoples have suffered from the hands of various oppressive regimes. In fact, they still do. Members of four tribes: Karen, Lahu Shi Bala, Palong and Hmong live here, marry, have children, work the fields, look after and work with their elephants, and make and sell traditional clothing and crafts.

Touristy? We spent 2 1/2 hours here photographing the tribal people, watching the women weave, playing with the children – and learning how to shoot coconuts with a traditional bow and arrow. (I thoroughly impressed the old gentleman who asked me to try to hit a small green coconut on a stump: I got two direct hits and got very close to it three times. Neither he nor Eric knew my parents used to call me “Annie Oakley” when I was young…)

I ended up purchasing several scarves from the Lanna long-necked (aka “giraffe”) women. In fact, it was a thrill to buy a brightly coloured one which was being woven before our eyes!

We later learned that had we taken a bus tour, we would only have had 45 minutes to experience this worthwhile village project.

Chiang Mai Delight

Where to start? We arrived in this former capital city of the Kingdom of Lanna by overnight bus from Pattaya.

During our first afternoon we wandered the streets of the old city whose foundations and brick fortifications date back to the 13th Century. Our destination was Chiang Mai City Arts and Cultural Centre. Here we learned the Thai traditionally believe cities are living entities with a body and soul, whose prosperity depends upon its birth chart. Auspicious times have ebbed and flowed for this great city, once the capital of the Kingdom of Lanna. Today, it is part of the Kingdom of Thailand of course, but it’s still the centre of Northern Thailand.

Typical for the two of us, we jumped into action and booked ourselves into a Thai cooking course for the next day. Choosing a school is challenging due to the fact there is so much choice. However, as soon as we saw classes offered at the Thai Organic Farm, we knew we wanted to support this endeavour for sustainability and food security reasons.

For 900 bhat apiece we were picked up in a bhat truck, taken to a local market where ingredients we would be using were explained, then driven for 20 minutes or so through the countryside to the farm. En route we spied water buffalo grazing as well as plantations of bananas interspersed with papaya and many vegetables. City noises and pollution gave way to calm views: this confirmed we’d selected the right school for us.

Once at the farm, our teacher “Tommy” toured our group of 12 about, showing us vegetables, fruits and herbs such as Thai eggplant, lemon grass, and limes which we would be using in just a few moments. Then it was time to cook! Tommy stepped us through the menu of items we’d all chosen to make.

Both Eric and I were able to select 6 different types of food each, as did all the other couples. After watching Tommy’s demonstrations, it was easy to prepare such foods as green and red curries. All of us delighted in tasting and sharing our dishes after Tommy taught us how to eat sticky rice (by rolling it into a ball and dipping it into the curry). After lunch we cooked two more dishes, and then Eric and I were dropped off at Lai Thai Guest House. A fabulous day well spent!

Our clean room (690 bhat) at Lai Thai was comfortable but a bit dingy. Designed in a Northern Thai style, walls were honey coloured, made from woven, split bamboo while the floor was chocolate-coloured teak. After two nights we switched to room 219 overlooking the (cold) but nonetheless inviting swimming pool. After a few attempts, we decided not to dine here: service proved a bit iffy and the food? We cooked better Thai ourselves! Nonetheless, Lai Thai’s central location made it perfect for us and at roughly C$21/night, it was a good price.

Chiang Mai is full of museums. However, more unusual are the government-sponsored stores which showcase goods made by northern Thai hill tribes. We visited the “Thai Hill Tribe Products Promotion Foundation Under Royal Support” – quite the mouthful of a name. And if you think that’s odd, check out the label on the clothes: “BPP Hill Tribe” refers to Border Patrol Police. A brochure explains, “In buying these handicraft products, you help the hill tribe artisans to earn an alternative income [as well as] the border patrol police school students and their families.”

Browsing enabled us to research prices for traditional clothing, quilted fabrics, silver and other items we might purchase later from tribal peoples themselves.

We would soon discover many opportunities to barter…

Electrical supply Thai style

We noticed the lime green shirts first. A group of men across the busy street were poised with a large cable over their shoulders—and another was setting up a bamboo ladder on the already-overloaded utility post opposite us.

When the light changed, they all raced across the intersection, dragging the cable and hoisting it up to the guy on the ladder. He scampered up into the tangle of wires already on the post, snaking the end through the clump. Then he dangled the end of the wire down, enabling the team on the ground to grab it again and pull it so it wouldn’t obstruct the traffic—all this was somehow accomplished while the “walk light” was green!

The “wire jockey” on the post then had to find a way to secure the new cable. Standing on the existing wires, he managed to tie some sort of loop to hold it, then clambered down to repeat the procedure on the next post.

Continuing our walk, we soon discovered the roll end of cable, where a man was tending the loop, ensuring it wouldn’t snarl as it was being pulled along the street.

As can be seen in the pictures, an ever-present billboard of the King was smiling down on the team as they performed their tasks. We did think his Royal Highness looked a bit sceptical mind you… Like the other “farang” (foreigners) witnesses,we were enthralled by the performance. It would certainly be in violation of any number of safety and code regulations in Canada!

I also wondered how the electrical utility could possible manage the supply of their services. Perhaps they can’t…

No wonder we’re all embracing a wireless world!

Food markets: Everything that moves is edible

Exploring Pattaya’s food markets is enlightening. As anyone who has travelled in Asia/India and such spots knows, “everything that moves” is fair game and can end up in your rice bowl.

Knowing this, I’m unsurprised to see cockroaches, giant water beetles, ant larvae and other insects I cannot identify for sale in the food market. Not only that: insects represent such tasty and readily available protein sources that street vendors will cook up a stir fry combo of bugs and veggies to eager customers who queue for a tasty snack.

Further down the narrow, congested aisle in the shaded food-and-everything-else market, I heard desperate cheeping. Yes: my personal nightmare was the sight of perhaps two dozen little songbirds resembling sparrows, peeping in fear and scrambling in a knot, trying to stay as far away from the cage door as possible.

Poor things.

The next stall sold tiny tortoises and turtles roughly the size of a Canadian loonie coin, through to ones which were the size of dinner plates. Another cage contained toads.

It’s easy to fall into the trap of being judgemental. It’s prudent to fight such thoughts, but also to be firmly aware of what you are supporting when you order a meal. We’ve not (yet) been offered bush meat for example, but know that this may be available at some destinations.

Just as in Canada when ordering fish and other meals, it is up to us as consumers to be as aware as possible, so we can support agri-food operations which we would wish to condone.

Cliff Cottages

Did we like it? Evidently: we planned to stay for 4 nights, but kept extending to end up staying seven nights. At 300 bhat/night (~C$10) it was certainly not a budget breaker.

The staff were very friendly; bathrooms were clean; the food (cooked by a local) was fresh and excellent; views were great; the snorkelling in a clear bay absolutely superb…

But? Well, it is pretty basic. The cottages have thin walls with large gaps between the boards; the floors are not completely level; most of the room is a bed with a fairly basic firm mattress (albeit quite comfortable). A mosquito net is installed above the bed, and although we did use it, there were very few bugs evident. We had a padlock for the door (they will supply them too) but after a day or so, we felt that theft was not so much of an issue and the real purpose of the padlock was simply to show that a cottage was being occupied.

Would we recommend the place? Absolutely—but with qualifications, and only to those who understand that it isn’t trying to be more than a rustic place. One morning we witnessed a couple yelling at the gracious staff about how much they disliked the place: too quiet (no parties!) and too basic. Later on, owner Ewen McPhee told us he gets discouraged because although his web site is very clear regarding how remote and rustic it is, some people fail to read his frank cautions.

There are lots of alternative lodgings in Bang Bao, and most seemed to have rooms available. We had dinner with a honeymoon couple staying at The Nirvana next door, and their room was spacious with an en suite bathroom—but also cost 2,600 bhat/night. It had a pool, and the food was good but by no means outstanding. The view was of the Bang Bao pier, and swimming in that obviously-polluted bay was out of the question.

For us, Cliff Cottages was a relaxing, laid-back place to get into the rhythm of Thailand. We were sad to leave.