A tribe called Karen

We are back in Chiang Mai after two nights and three days in the hills.  We walked on the outskirts of Doi Inthanon, the highest mountain in Thailand, passing from village to village.  Those were the hardest beds I think I have ever slept on.  But our hosts, the Karen people (pronounced Kaah-ren) don't seem to mind them too much.

They speak a language that sounds quite different from Thai.  Thanks for example is ta-bluh, and not korp kun as in Thai.  Our guide, Date, told us many of them fled from neighboring Myanmar and found refuge in the hills where they now grow rice for subsistence and gerber daisies, passion fruit, and strawberries for sale to the market. 

I guess there is something quintessential about village life everywhere; dogs that bark with the chickens at dawn, smoke and fires at evening, and nice stars at night.  It can almost feel like being at any other farming town, except here the women all wear bright pinks and purples in patterns I would call clashing.  The million uses of bamboo (silverware, cups, walls, firewood, string, bridges, rafts, beams, spits) all on display, and the food spicy and sour. 

As we walked through the jungle, all the plants initially looked the same.  Then, time after time, Date would rip a leaf off a vine or pull a root out of the ground and give it to us to taste, telling us about its medicinal and culinary uses.  He would tell us, "this is the spot where Communists used to hide; this tree was very small then he was young and now he is so big; here is the spirit house where people sacrifice a chicken for the river they have dammed."  Our porter, a 62 year old man, walked the entire time wearing a jacket and rubber boots, never once shedding a layer, while we in our synthetic tee shirts dripped at times with sweat.  I don't know how he did it.

Driving back to Chiang Mai, I felt time speeding up.  Land rushed past the window and I could no longer pay attention to each plant or each house.  Not going to lie; the soft beds feel really nice.  But I will miss the stars.

Bangkok, City of 1000 Smells

We arrived in Bangkok late in the evening, far later than the bus company had published. The sun had already faded away into the grey murkiness that surrounded the city - a dull scarlet orb that gradually yielded to the enfolding haze. We were left in a public square thronged with street vendors and billboards and windows that peered deeper and deeper out of the inky darkness above us.

More powerful than the darkness, though, were the smells. Alleys vomited the debris of markets onto the square, busses and tuk tuks left ephemeral trails of diesel dust,  food carts served their wares over trickles of brackish liquid, and beyond that the subtle scents of river and flowers melted into the background. Curry and car exhaust, incense and fetid water and jasmine, frying meat and cook fires and motor oil and bread pierced by acrid, human odors.

My stomach had not enjoyed the last day in Cambodia and probably left me excessively sensitive to such things, but my main memory of Bangkok is of an overwhelmingly and unpleasantly odorous city. I am glad we only spent one night there before heading off to adventure in Thailand's northern hill country.

(Post by Josh)

Buddhism

All three countries we have visited so far have Buddhist temples, monks, and certain observances.  But Buddhism does not really feel the same in any of them.

In Japan, the temples looked like slight alterations of Shinto shrines; a threshold gate, a sacred altar with statues, and those really familiar Japanese roofs.  In Cambodia, they look like a stand of shiny little golden tinsel trees in front of stone Buddha statues, wearing a gold cloth apron.  In Thailand, they look like a golden Buddha statue standing inside mini royal palace. 

In Japan, the monks wore in white.  In Cambodia, orange with a parasol and in barefeet   In Thailand, also orange (we saw one with sandals and orange socks).  The Bangkok subway even has a sticker depicting the four kinds of people you should give up your seat to:  the elderly, disabled, pregnant, and monks.

Buddhism, for a religion that is built on giving up desire and not forcing yourself on others, seems somewhat pushy in Cambodia.  Lots of Angkor temples have statues inside with caretakers encouraging you to take their incense and pray.  It may or may not have been just a way to make money.  Japan's temples were far less aggressive with their sales pitch.  Thailand's Buddhist temples remain to be experienced.  But I don't know how much we will get to see of these, since we are off to the northern hills.  For the next three days we will be bamboo rafting and riding elephants and staying in villages north of Chiang Mai.  Back to the blog from Myanmar, most likely.  Josh's Angkor Wat posts are awaiting better internet so we can post pictures.  Stay tuned.

(Post by Hammad)