A belated Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to everyone!
While it is always difficult to celebrate Christmas when it is hot and humid
out, I had a very special Christmas this year, and one I will not soon forget.
Upon arrival in the northern Thai city of Chiang Rai, I headed to the airport to
pick up Jason and Susan. The airport was filled with Thai that were busy
crowding around the exit gate, eagerly awaiting the arrival of their relatives.
All of a sudden everyone pushed back from the gate in such a frantic pace that I
was wondering if there was a bomb scare or something. They then started bowing
down to the ground as they parted like the Red Sea. A red robed monk emerged
holding a huge cobra shaped staff with a crowd of police and monks in saffron
robes around him. A few minutes later Jason and Susan appeared, telling an
amusing story of watching the monks gather around a TV at the back of the plane
to watch an NBA basketball game.
The first item on the agenda for northern Thailand was to head to an Akha hill
tribe village in the mountains to the west of Chiang Rai. We had heard
references about the village from other travelers, but the only real information
we had about getting there was through a place in Chiang Rai called the "Hippee
Teepee Bar". It took some detective work to track it down, but eventually
we found it, and were able to secure a room for the next day.
Meanwhile, the "Hippee Teepee Bar" was an interesting diversion. The
locals that ran the place would have fit in at any alternative US bar, and I
will never forget the overweight Thai woman who was belting out Janice Joplin
songs with interchangeable L's and R's. While the bar started out reasonably
empty, it soon filled up with Thai who were busy celebrating the birthday of one
of the bartenders.
The pick up point for the ride to the village was back at the Teepee bar where
the next day we met up with Apae, the chief of the Akha village. After a
stunning ride on a windy road along a river valley and past many rice fields, we
turned off onto a rutted dirt road that headed up into the mountains. One final
push up a particularly steep hill brought us to the village and the bamboo huts
on stilts that we would be staying in. The huts were described as
"comfortable by hill tribe standards", and consisted of a thatched
floor with three thin sleeping mats, and a little dirt room built into the side
of the hill with a toilet and cold shower. The view from the porch of the
terraced tea plantations below was a great way to wake up every morning. The
only real drawback to the hut was that you had to be careful where you stepped
or you would fall right through the floor.
The guest house was run completely by the Akha themselves, and it was good to
see them getting 100% of the profits from the visiting tourists. Apae was a
shrewd business man who spoke 7 languages including English, Thai, Japanese, and
four hill tribe languages.
Evenings at the village were spent eating delicious food and then drinking beer
and playing cards around a campfire. Or sometimes just staring up at a sky that
was filled with some of the best stars that I have ever seen.
On our first evening, our cards were interrupted by a Frenchman and
"Josef" from Luxembourg, as they staggered their way out of the opium
den. Josef looked as if he was straight out of a "Cheech and Chong"
movie, and much to the disgust of everyone else around, he attempted to
entertain us by playing some tunes on his flute. Between shrill notes that hurt
the ears, he would brag how "I teech myself to play zee flute ... I have no
lessons". He then went into a spiel about $100,000 flutes, and how the best
flutes are made of 24 karat gold. His antics made everyone break up into
laughter, which only made him paranoid as he would defend his stories. "Eet
eez true ... zee best flutes eez made uv pure gold".
The days at the village were incredibly mellow, and a nearby waterfall provided
a great escape from the mid-day heat. We also dined on amazing food as we
fattened ourselves up for the three day trek we would be undertaking the next
day. Our trekking companions consisted of a couple of women from Isreal, two
women from the Netherlands, and an Englishman.
Appa and Songchai, our two Akha guides for the trek, kept close eyes on us as we
headed off into the jungle the next morning. Our first diversion was a fishing
stop as the guides dammed a creek and dug through the mud for fish, shrimp, and
crabs. Unfortunately, that spot was already fished out and we came away with
only a single 2cm fish.
Our guides then entertained us by whipping out their machete and building a set
of very functional bamboo stilts. We also learned what cooking with bamboo meant
when our entire meal was prepared using only a lighter and the trusty machete
which Appa wielded as if it was an extension of his hand. The fire was built
using dry bamboo, and the food was cooked in large green bamboo tubes that were
thrown directly into the fire. Banana leaves were stuffed into some tubes to act
as a lid, and the vegetables were cut up over a bed of banana leaves. The final
preparation of our ramen noodles was done in a large piece of bamboo cut
lengthwise that looked like a small trough. The food was eaten using bamboo cups
and chopsticks that had been built for everyone.
After our very filling lunch, we continued to hike up and down the hills until
we reached the Lahu village we would be staying at. We washed ourselves off
under a small bamboo pipe that brought running water into the village from a
nearby stream. I began to wonder if there was anything they couldn't do with
bamboo!
Feeling refreshed, we gathered on the porch and indulged in another game of
cards while the Lahu prepared dinner for us. Jason pointed out how it was a
little weird that we came to a village, started having a big party in one of
their main huts, yet the locals mostly stayed out of sight except when serving
food and drinks.
After our delicious dinner and a few pots of tea, our card game was interrupted
as Jason stopped everyone saying that "a cultural gap was being bridged and
some women are trying to say something. What does 'misaj' mean in English?"
The guide quickly responded, stating that the women were offering to give us an
hour long massage for 50 Baht.
The next day of trekking brought us through several more villages and through
some banana forests. Susan asked whether the bananas were edible, at which point
Appa headed off into the trees. We were all curious how he was going to climb
the tree when two quick machette chops brought the entire tree down. It turns
out that these banana trees don't produce edible fruit, but the large flower was
chopped up and used for our lunch.
That evening was spent in the jungle and a pre-built bamboo lean-to that we
would be sleeping under. The great wilderness experience was spoiled slightly
when our dinner and drinks were brought to us by truck, although no one
complained about the cold beer and soft drinks. The evening was a cold one as we
fought over the blankets, and the ground we slept on was so hard that I used a
full water bottle as a pillow (I'm such a soft westerner!). As we tried to go to
sleep, we longed for the thin pads of our hut, and began to understand what
"comfortable by hill tribe standards" really meant.
The breakfast the next morning was a northern Thai treat. Sticky rice that had
been soaked the previous evening was mixed with sugar and coconut milk, and then
stuffed into narrow bamboo tubes. These tubes were plugged with bamboo leaves
and then thrown into the fire. When cooked and split open, a skin from the
bamboo held the solid mass of rice together. Clearly everyone was hungry, as we
all ripped into the white tubes that were tossed in front of us.
After a refreshing dip in the waterfall, we soon found ourselves back in Akha
village, ready to partake in Christmas festivities. The Akha were busy building
a large swing which was part of an ancient fertility ceremony. Since the village
converted to Christianity ten years ago, the ritual has lost its original
meanings, but is celebrated at Christmas time to keep past traditions alive.
There was also plenty of food being prepared, including one dish that our help
was encouraged in preparing. A mass of freshly cooked sticky rice was placed in
a large wooden bucket, and was then pounded with a huge wooden log until ground
to the texture of chewing gum. The little old women wielded the heavy log with
surprising strength, and it was rather embarrassing as they laughed at our
feeble attempts and pushed us out of the way to show us how it was done
properly. Small balls of the glutinous mass were rolled in salt and toasted
sesame seeds and were passed around to everyone the same way Christmas sweets
are passed out in the west. However, it smelt better than it tasted, and few
westerners showed up for seconds.
Other food being prepared included a freshly butchered pig and buffalo which was
divided up evenly and passed out to each household in the village (and of course
every piece of the animal was used). The westerners all chipped into a fund to
buy our own pig as well which was roasted on a bamboo spit for our Christmas Eve
dinner. Some people chose to take part in the slaughter and preparation of the
pig, while I chose to be a hypocrite and simply showed up for the feast. The pig
was carved up on banana leaves, and soon after the ravenous horde descended upon
it, there was nothing left but the bones.
The Akha women were wearing their ceremonial dress as a part of the Christmas
party, and it was refreshing to see them dressed for their own reasons as
opposed to the women in the markets of Chiang Mai that put the clothes on as a
show for the tourists.
They were topped with a large headpiece that resembled a woolen winter hat with
a rainbow of yellow, red, black, white, and purple stripes. Dangling from the
hats were an array of pom-poms, strings of beads, and it was backed with a large
metal block with various patterns hammered into it. They wore a white blouse and
on top was a black sweater which was also adorned with a myriad of coloured
stripes. Around their necks were many necklaces of white beads (seeds). On the
bottom, they wore a pure black skirt cut just above the knees, and a belt of
white beads. The traditional footwear consisted of a brand new pair of shiny
white and purple Nikes.
After all of the feasting was finished, the Christmas caroling began. A huge
group of people gathered together, and with the aid of a beat up acoustic
guitar, they went from door to door singing songs like "Hark the Herald
Angels Sing" and "Silent Night". It was strange hearing the
familiar Christmas songs sung in the Akha language which has seven tones and
almost no hard consonants.
As the evening wore down, some traditional Akha dishes were served, and glasses
of vile rice whisky were passed around.
Christmas day started out rather quiet, and the westerners hung on a tree candy,
crayons, and notebooks that we had chipped in to buy for the children. We also
practiced our art and language skills as we tried to write Merry Christmas in as
many languages as possible on the blackboard that was bought for the village.
The children were amazingly well behaved as they gathered around to look at the
candies, but refused to touch any of it until they were told it was okay.
Around 11am, church service began and we all went to the hut that doubled as a
school and church. While we couldn't understand the services, there was clearly
a lot of emotion being poured in as several people gave sermons to a backdrop of
pictures of Christ and angels with Spanish captions. After some more caroling,
the gift giving commenced. Apae began passing out presents such as bags of rice,
clusters of bananas, potatoes, and other simple gifts. Clearly there was some
inside humour as the group would break out into laughter as some of the names
were called. The joy in the room was contagious, and it was especially touching
when we were each given a necklace of white beads.
The good times then spilled out into the village as people played games, ate
more food, and competed to see who could swing the highest. The children ran in
races, played with balloons, and lined up to receive the goodies dangling from
the trees.
Later that afternoon, we needed to leave the village we had called home for the
past week. It was very difficult to say good-bye as I almost felt like I was
leaving family behind. As I thought back on the time I had spent there, it
really struck me that I still had no idea whose kids were whose and who was
married to who. Outside of the household, the village of ninety people acted as
a single extended family. The children all played together, and the sibling
rivalries common in the west were completely missing. Instead, the children were
constantly helping each other out, and caring for each other when one was hurt.
The peace and quiet we enjoyed in Akha Village made it hard to return to the
smog, noise, and traffic of Chiang Mai. It proved to be a good wind down to the
last few days in Thailand, however, and we kept ourselves busy by riding
elephants, taking a Thai cooking class, eating Italian food, and enjoying fresh
cooked bread at an Irish Pub.
It is now Dec 31, and I am in the Bangkok airport about to fly to Hanoi,
Vietnam. I will most likely be completely out of email contact for the month of
January as communication in and out of Vietnam is highly restricted.
