Hill Tribe Field Study

I remember sitting in orientation on the second day here in Thailand. Jha Jaah handed us the academic calendar, and the noise in my ears went numb as I dragged my finger through the months of January and February. Finally I stopped and lifted my pen to circle the weekend of the Hill Tribe Field Study. I looked back up. Jaah Jha was still talking but my focus was in my head, counting the number of days until the trek that I had looked forward to since I signed up for this trip. Six weeks. Ugh, so far away, I thought. But man was I wrong. It felt more like the blink of an eye. Suddenly I was packing my bags with extra toilet paper and asking my roommate how many malaria pills we were supposed to bring (don't worry mom, it turned out we were okay without them).

On Friday morning at 8am, we tied our backpacks to the tops of the trucks outside Uniloft and headed out for our three-day trek to the Karen village.

On the way up Huay Kaew Road, we stopped at the police station to drop off copies of our passports. The police officer took advantage of the time to give us some reassuring advice about the trip. "Make sure you listen to instructor. Las’ year, one boy did not listen to instructor. He went off track, own way. An’ he slip on rock, hit head, and die suddenly... But have good time!" A special thank you for the encouraging words.

We continued our travels up the windy road, taking a quick stop at a waterfall where we enjoyed mother nature’s biggest shower and explored a small bat cave. I asked Pan as we were walking in, “Can we get rabies in here?” And in his usual monotone voice, he replied, “If you get bite, yes.” I would also like to thank Pan for his brutally honest nonchalance. If you haven't noticed, people are pretty straight forward here. But they aren’t scared. Not about things going wrong. I really don't even think they consider it "going wrong.” Things are just always "going," and they address life with a level head as it comes. Maybe we should all do a little less worrying about the things we can’t control, and take a little more control of the time we waste worrying. 

Bat Cave

After the waterfall we stopped for lunch, and then kept our eyes pealed out the window for the origin of our hike. We knew we were getting closer when the paved highway turned into a cliff-scraping dirt road. "It's okay, there's a guardrail," Emily said, as she pointed to the knee-high bamboo twigs and barbed wire just beside the 50-ft drop. Fortunately the levity in her sarcasm sedated my fear for life.

“Ok! Ok! We here!!” Jha Jaah shouted through the back of our truck. We jumped out of the truck, loaded on the bug spray, and headed up the mountain with our backpacks on and our water bottles filled.

Sixty minutes of uphill trekking later, we knelt down panting, our backpacks off and our water bottles empty. As we caught our breath, our guide, Sang, gave us each a walking stick, and showed us how to make cups and whiskey glasses with a machete and a bamboo post.

Although the 4 straight hours of  hiking was a bit strenuous on the legs, it was surprisingly serene for the mind. Everyone was so focused on inhaling their share of oxygen that conversation dissolved between us. We all just trekked along, listening to the sounds of the forrest. The leaves crunching beneath our shoes, the birds chirping in the trees, the crickets humming in the bushes.

Finally, as the sun began its descent into the mountains, a straw roof appeared in the midst of the treetops ahead. We reached our first village.

Hotel

The Karen people showed us to our room, or as Priscilla called it, our "hotel” - a wooden hut with tin roof, complete with sleeping mats, mosquito nets, and a few candles. Although it wasn't quite a Hilton Resort, it was surprisingly comfortable. Of course we joked about the lack of A/C or electricity, but I think we all secretly enjoyed sleeping in the natural breeze and forest air. 

The one thing I think we all could have done without were the squatters. A toilet-paper-less, seat-less, hole in the ground isn’t exactly an ideal way to use the bathroom. “Flushing" is the graceful act of scooping water from a bucket and pouring it on top of your business. Wondering how it works with number two? I'll leave that up to your imagination.

In the morning we set out to the big village. The two hour trek felt like a breeze after the previous day’s endeavors.

Karen Village

The Karen village was amazing - favorite place I’ve stayed in Thailand so far. Maybe it's because of my eternal love for animals and the outdoors. The entire village was a summation of wood houses, farm animals, and natural land. 

Little baby chicks trailed their momma around the yard. Piglets wrestled each other for their mother’s milk. Cows grazed in herds between houses. And little puppies ran freely through the fields, until they’d bump into a human’s leg to paw at. I think I could have managed a few more mornings waking up to that... 

<3

The next activity was what everyone looks forward to when they come to Thailand. I finally rode an elephant! I have to admit, I’ve been hesitant about this. I’ve heard that many animals are mistreated due to tourist purposes, given there is no regulation in Thailand. But to my reassurance, this was different. The elephants aren't kept in a fenced-in camp or zoo. They live where the people live. And they've learned to understand and connect with the Karen people in the village. 

Elephant Riding!

If I were to attempt to spell out the commands people used to communicate with the elephants I would try, "uuooogh!" But basically it was just some loud grunting noise that told the elephant when to stop and go. It's amazing being so close to such a tremendous creature. You see how much we have in common with such a different species. 

Sophie, Julia, and I rode the alpha male, and the two females followed. Elephants travel in herds, and they communicate with each other through touch. At one point, our big elephant stopped in his tracks. We looked back, confused as to what he was waiting for. We soon learned that he needed to feel the trunk of the elephant behind him, so that he knew he was not leaving anyone behind. 

We marched on in single file, until the middle elephant let out an earth-rumbling emission of gas that had us all laughing and worrying at the same time. At that point the elephant behind him paused, turned her head, and allowed the next one to take her place behind earth-rumbler. This was the only time in the trek the elephants chose to reposition themselves. I swear whoever thinks animals don’t have emotions is crazy. 

I really believe we can learn a lot from animals. Not silly things like letting someone pass if we get the urge to toot the flute. But just to be fully aware of each other and each other’s needs and feelings. To care about working together.

After riding the elephants, we helped bathe them in the river. When they stand up next to you in the water, you realize just how easily a wrong step of that giant leg could crush you. But they don't want to hurt you. I think their tiny eyes see much more into the souls of others than ours do sometimes.

At dinner, Sang made us some "happy water," aka rice whiskey, and taught us how to wrap plantains in tortillas for some of the most amazing spring-rolls I’ve ever tasted. True confession, I napped through most of the cooking, but props to Johnna for spending a solid 2 hours in the kitchen. I'm pretty sure the Karen’s mission was to make us explode - dinner was like the past four Thanksgiving in one meal.

Cookie Eating Contest

The activities that followed dinner didn't help much either. We had cookie eating contests with the hill tribe children. The size of my cheeks probably could have impressed a chipmunk with how much was stuffed inside, but I had to try and win... When you have the eager smile of a six-year old in front of you, it's pretty hard not to force the 7th cookie into your mouth.

The next morning we ate breakfast in the midst of the mist an huddled around the fire with some hot coffee and tea. Then it was time to pack up our stuff, say goodbye to the Karen people, and head back down to the river.  

On the banks of the Mae Tang River, our hand-crafted bamboo rafts awaited us. We tied our backpacks to the tops of the poles and balance-beamed ourselves aboard.

I already raved about the bamboo ride in my last blog, so perhaps you've heard enough about the noises, smells, and sights of the jungle. But just to reiterate - it was amazing.

So after a long ride down earth’s lazy river and a lot of Pocahontas sing-alongs (shout out to Sophie for knowing every single lyric in Just Around The River Bend) our Hill Tribe Trek came to an end.

When I was little, I used to sit cross-legged in front of our big-screen TV watching Homeward Bound. Just when I knew the movie was about to end, I’d rewind it to the beginning so I could watch it all over again before my mom could catch me. I wish I could rewind this weekend like I used to rewind Homeward Bound. I really never wanted it to end. But as we all know, in life there is no rewind button. So the only option we have is to play in the moment. 

That Big Moment

Remember when I said I was waiting for that "big moment" to hit me? Well... I think it just did.

Not in an oh-my-god-I'm-on-the-other-side-of-the-world kind of way. Not in a how-am-I-going-to-speak-the-language kind of way. 

The moment hit me like a rush of presence, an abrupt sense of awareness that I, my 21-year old self, am in freaking Thailand. I, my 21-year old self, am living a chapter in my life that I will look back on years from now and think about how lucky I was to have had this opportunity. 

I think it all hit me today while we were rafting down the Mae Tang river, as the final hours of our Hill Tribe Field Study trickled through the hourglass. 

For 5 hours, I was perched upon a bamboo raft, flowing with the current of the river, winding through the rainforest. The only thing to do was to soak in all that was around me. 

The cool, green water rushing across my feet... 

The tropical trees draping their vines like curtains on either sides of the river, slow-dancing to the rhythm of the breeze...

The birds sending their pulsating chirps down a tunnel to the horizon, taking turns to echo each other’s sound. The crickets suffusing their chorus. The frogs croaking each verse...

The rays of the sun catching the mist between the trees...

Have you ever had one of those moments when you’re driving in a car, and a certain song comes on the radio and reminds you of a memory from your past?

It’s almost as if you can re-live it - the memory, I mean, through the feelings that have been awakened by some unanticipated medium. Sometimes it’s a song on the radio. Sometimes it’s a photograph. Sometimes it’s a smell. You ever walk passed someone who’s wearing the same perfume as your grandmother? ...and suddenly you close your eyes and you’re sitting next to her on the porch, listening to the warmth of her voice as she teaches you how to win fifteen consecutive rounds of solitaire.

How is it that a memory can have such power over your body? How can you close your eyes and journey back in time through the depths of your mind, feeling every emotion you felt so long ago?

I thought about it a lot today, as I absorbed my surroundings on that bamboo raft. I thought about how memories are created. True memories - not the grade you got on your college essay, not the name of your first grade teacher. A memory, to me, is a capsule of emotions. It is a treasure chest of feelings from a specific part of your life, stored in a place that defines every moment of your existence. That’s why there are keys - those songs, those photos, those smells. They come across your path in sporadic blessings, unlocking your memories for a brief moment of reflection, until time pulls your consciousness back to reality. 

It was a weird feeling though. That “big moment” felt more like the realization that a memory was transpiring right in front of me. I became suddenly aware that this journey is shaping itself into a realm of feelings, senses, and emotions that I will have for moments in the now but forever in my mind. It was a “big moment” of realization that now is the time to soak everything in, to be fully present to all that this amazing journey has to offer. 

So I guess that big moment hit me more in a don’t-miss-a-thing-because-this-trip-won’t-last forever kind of way. It hit me in a be-fully-present-now-so-I-can-take-these-memories-with-me kind of way. And I guess it was a little less scary, and a little more exciting than I had ever expected. 

A Day in the Life of a Nak-sik-saa thii Moo-Choo

A lot of people have asked me: “How is Thailand? What have you been doing there?” So I asked myself: What does a day in the life of a student at Chiang Mai University look like?

.........

4:00am

The roosters start cock-a-doodle-doo-ing outside my window. If it is a night that I am up late Skyping a family member across the 12 hour time difference, I may just be lucky enough to hear their song before my head even hits the pillow. 

8:15am

“Beautiful World” by Coldplay begins to play on my cell phone. I prefer waking up to an alarm less alarming. I snooze for an extra 10 minutes. 

8:25am

Round two. This time I pull open my blinds. The morning sunshine and jungle-green mountainside shrink my pupils back to their normal dimensions, and I rub the last bit of sleep out the corners of my eyes. 

I go into the bathroom and count 3 squares of toilet paper before I tear them off the roll. I wonder how much more environment-friendly I could be in the United States if I had the same fear of poor plumbing. Maybe it shouldn’t be fear of poor plumbing. Maybe it should just be a choice to be environment-friendly. I flush. 

8:45am

I put on my school uniform and head down the elevator. I wave and say “saw-a-dii-kha” to the woman at the front desk, and she smiles and replies “kha” with a nod. 

I walk out to Soi Jet (‘street 7’ that connects to Suthep). I see my usual canine companions. On my left is the old dog with one eye. He is curled up in a peaceful sleep, unbothered by the flies upon his dusty back. Yet I still shed a tear each time I see him. A couple meters down is the bear-dog - a big ball of fluff that remains on one step every day, enjoying the smell of fried chicken from the street cart beside him. I imagine his fur coat bathed and groomed, and him running around in a yard playing fetch with a frisbee. Or perhaps he is perfectly content with a little mud on his paws and the fried-chicken aroma before his nose.

9:00am

I arrive at class 10 minutes passed 9, but class hasn’t started just yet. The correlation between time and anxiety here isn’t quite as strong as it is in America.  

On Mondays, I have Thai Language for Daily Communication. I now have an appreciation for the English Language. In Thai, one word can have 5 completely different meanings, depending what tone you use to say it. “That’s a nice tiger you have on,” I say in Thai, and the Ajarn corrects me - “That’s a nice shirt,” she says, but “sua” still sounds the same to me. 

After Communication I have Sustainable Development, but it was canceled this Monday. Instead we took a trip to the market to learn about organic farming. Broccoli, tomatoes, carrots, kale. Sticky rice rolled-up in bamboo, beans and corn wrapped in banana leaves.  The farmers grow the food fresh from the earth. They use adhesive yellow paper to attract the bugs away from the plants. Still, some leaves have a few nibbles, but it's reassuring to know that nothing is grown with chemical pesticides. Nothing is genetically modified. Everything is real. 

3:00pm

I return home from campus. I have the rest of the day to spend time at my own discretion. 

Sometimes my roommate and I enjoy the air conditioning and comfort of our couch while we watch whatever movie is playing on the only channel offered in English. I joke about how thrilling it will be back in America to use more than the one button on the remote control. 

Sometimes we walk down Suthep Road, taste-testing from the variety of street vendors. The food here is like a box of chocolates. You never really know what you’re gonna get. But I’ve discovered a few favorites. Curry-paste pastries. Fried bananas covered in black and white sesame seeds. Barbecued pork and peppers on a stick. “Pork” is pronounced, “moo,” though it might be a bit easier to remember if that was the word for beef. 

Sometimes we hike to the waterfalls. Sometimes we shop at the night markets. Sometimes we just spend hours in conversation, learning from each other about our similar yet unique backgrounds. Colorado, Ohio, Florida, New York. California, Pennsylvania, Nevada, Maine. Maybe my next adventure will be to explore the diversity of own country. 

11:55pm

At the end of the night I return to my bed. I reflect back on my day. The world in which I live may have its imperfections, but it is wholly perfect at the same time. It delivers blessings in disguise, and opens my eyes to new windows of beauty, new dimensions of thought. I believe it is true that the real is the unseen which gives rise to that which is seen.