Tuesday, May 29, 2007

As I, In Solitude, Lay--An Ode to a Power Blackout

Every now and then, life sends us a message that pretty much says slow down. Anyone who read my earlier post about the slow pace of life in the village would probably think that I wouldn't have a problem with slowing down...after all, its pretty much a way of life over here. I would have thought so too if not for the fact that I've felt a certain sense of disconnect lately. I think this feeling has stemmed from my inability to drum to the village's beat. I've gotten so used to the mentality that just sitting down for hours on end is akin to being unproductive. "If I'm to just sit," I've told myslef, "I might as well make sure I'm being productive while sitting." Attempts to be productive have included practicing my Thai, reading whatever material I get my hands on, writing, etc. While there is nothing wrong with these, I've realized that it's also important to learn how to just sit with oneself. Not to say I haven't tried (though I can't get past 2o minutes before I start feeling like I'm wasting time.)


But, as I said, life sends us messages every now and then. In my case, it was sent through a blackout. Not just any blackout (blackouts are a normal occurance in my village.) There were other variables involved in this one. First, the moon wasn't out nor were than any stars. Because of the extreme darkness, I could not read. Next, there was a strong enough breeze that candles were useless. Since no one lit any candles, my entire street was dark. The timing was great too. I've been in my village long enough to not be a source of fascination...people no longer go out of their way to talk to the foreigner. And for some reason, all the kids in my street were gone. Usually, during blackouts, a couple of them would come over and we would make shadow puppets on my wall. Not on this particualr blackout though. All these factors made for 2 hours of laying in my hammock in darkness and silence. It was AMAZING. Granted I took out my ipod and listened to some Bob Marley and Simon and Garfunkel but it was so relaxing. I drifted in and out of sleep. I day dreamt. I sat with my thoughts and let each chain work its way through without jumping from one thought to the next. I was aware of my breathing. I slept somemore. I thought about how cool my work is...how lucky I am to have Caitlin..how awesome my family is. I was in peace. It was one of the most relaxing couple of hours of my life and I enjoyed it. So much that I was actually a little disappointed when my power came back.

Anyhow, I was aware that I had just experienced something special and before I went to bed that night, I wrote these words down.


Twas neither star nor moon
On that May night
As I, in solitude, lay.

Absent too was children's laughter
That had earlier filled the day.

Yet as star and moon and the heart of youth
Were absent from that night
I, in my solitude, embraced all their light

For the moment of peace I felt that night
As I, in solitude, lay
Was filled with the grace of heaven
And the joy of a child at play.

Monday, May 28, 2007

What I Taketh, I Giveth Back


I love rice. Anyone who knows me knows this. (In fact, my very first blog entry was, as my friend James put it, "an ode to rice.") I have at least a bowl of rice for every meal. Be it brown rice, sticky rice, jasmine rice, grainy rice...it does not matter. If it's rice, i'll eat it...and I'll enjoy eating it.

While I am indeed a proud, happy eater of rice, I am by no means a selfish eater. If it were up to me, I'd want the joy I receive (and believe me, it's quite the joy) from a nice, warm bowl of rice to be shared by all. I'm also aware that I have had my fair share of rice here in Thailand (doing the math, at 5 months with 4 weeks a month at 7 days a week and 3 meals a day...I have consumed at least 420 bowls of rice) I figured I should give back. So it was towards this end that I volunteered to help a teacher in my school plant rice in his field.
We started early, he picked me up at my house around 7, we had breakfast in his place and then we were off to the fields. No amount of sun block was going to protect me from the sun so I had to wear the only long sleeved shirt I brought with me to Thailand and a t-shirt over my face.

The day's job mainly entailed "pitching" the rice evenly around the field and then eventually having a tractor embed them into the soil. We were fairly efficient I thought, dividing up the land into areas each "pitcher" would focus on. There were sacks of rice that were strategically laid around the field--refilling stations if you will-- so we wouldn't have to walk all the way back to the truck to pick up more grain. My teacher's field is but a small section of this giant plateau which is shared by five provinces called the "Tung Kula Rong Hai" which means "The field that made the Kula cry. The Kula is an old tribe and legend has is that a long time ago, as the Kula walked along the field, they realized that there was no end to their journey. The farther they walked, the farther it seemed they had to go. The intense heat added to their despair and they all broke down and cried.

There wasn't any crying going on this day though. In fact, I enjoyed the experience tremendously. The scenery was beautiful. As far as the eyes could see, it was just miles and miles of land. No tall buildings, no smog, nothing but God's good earth, the sky and several farmers. While insanely hot, there was enough cloud cover to grant us little over cast breaks. Hearing the gentle "swoosh" of the grain as it left the hands and fell to the fields mixed with the birds was very relaxing and I soon found myself in a trance almost--as if I wasn't engaged in work but a sort meditation.


We snacked on a baby watermellons (so so refreshing on a hot day) and had lunch by the fields. I was drenched with sweat...literally...and attacked the food like a beast. The meal was a very typical Isan meal--somtam (papaya salad), gai-yang (barbequed chicken) and...drum roll....rice! We lingered over lunch a bit and it was nice getting to know my teacher's family. After some more watermellon and some durian it was back to the fields.


Seven hours in the field can be exhausting but after a quick trip home (and a nice shower) I came back to watch the tractor do its job. It was sunset at this point and only a few farmers were left. After thanking my teacher, Ajan Pusit, for giving me the opportunity to give back to the fields that have so nourished me (I will never stop romanticizing the role of rice in my life) I headed home and prepared for dinner...


Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Village Life



Try to recall the longest day of your life. Recall how you looked at the clock, certain that 30 minutes had gone by since you last checked only to realize the a mere 8 minutes have passed.

Now imagine reliving that day everyday for a month and a half.

You just got a glimpse into my last 45 days.

Now you might say "that's rough" and I would say "it is...sometimes."
You might say "that sucks" and I would say "it does...sometimes."
You might ask "how in the world do you do it?" and I would answer "I ask myself the exact same question...sometimes"

Over the past 45 days I've had moments where I've found the pace of life in my village to be too slow for my liking. On such moments, I've said things like "this is rough" and "this sucks" and I've questioned whether I could continue living like this for 22 more months. Fortunately, these moments have only occured sometimes.

MOST of the times, I've found myself ENJOYING my life in the village.

I've enjoyed how what would normally be a 15 minute bike ride becomes 30 minutes because I am stuck in a narrow road behind herded cattle but I don't mind because the landscape is absolutely beautiful.

I've enjoyed how the village kids will pause playing their games or riding their bikes and scream the only English they know "what is your name?!"

I've enjoyed how the village kids have invaded my home and found ways to squeeze themselves into my comfy chair to root for Manchester United

I've enjoyed playing home made board games with my neighbors using the last number from the pages of a book instead of dice because no one has heard of dice (if the book is opened to page 47...that means you can move your board piece seven spaces)

I've enjoyed all these and so much more! Life in the village, while agonizingly slow at times, has been consistently fascinating.
From watching the monks collecting food in the morning to realizing that what I first thought to be a huge block of moss turn out to actually be a lake with fish (and a few snapping turtles) underneath all the greens to witnessing a fishing frenzy like no other to enjoying festivals like Songkran (and all the water soaking) and Bum mung fai (and the funky home made rockets...one of which was in the form of a giant male organ) to the meals I've been invited to partake in to the crazy personalities I've encountered... the village life has provided for ALOT of wonderful sights and experiences.


Hmmm...maybe having long days isn't such a bad thing after all.


Some pics

1) Enjoying songkran with kids from the village
2) Nong Gong lake
3) Day of fishing at Nong Gong--the village leaders designate one day of the year to be fishing day and it's quite the spectacle. People from other villagers partake as well.
4) Lunch with some friends
5) The Rocket
6) Nong Sim lake...doesn't it look like a carpet of moss?
7) Snapping turtle...alot of excitement surrounding the capture of this one. 20 minutes later, all that was left was the shell.