Thursday, July 29, 2010
Photo Link
Photos are Posted: http://picasaweb.google.com/Gigileet/BestOfKoLipeThailand# (the best 400, of over 2,000!)
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Monkey Island - The Laws Have Holes in Them
Today Pauli, Onna and I took a boat to Adang Island (the mountian island next to lipe). Here is the headquarters of the national park. The island is much bigger than lipe, and all protected land except for a small Urak Lawoi village on one side.
There was no one on the island except for a few families/workers employed by the national park. The finnish couple took a bit to go swimming and relax on the beach, and i went in search of someone to interview. The ranger stations were closed, empty, but not locked. There was a saveworldsavelife / playboy calander hanging in one. I found out later, the national park (all of it including everwhere i've been snorkling ect.) is stricktly technically closed this season. Eventually, i was directed to the head of the area's national park, who was working at a compter on his porch. I forgot his name so i'm going to call him Mr. B for now. Mr. B and i talked for an hour and a half. It was wired to talk to him, after hearing s much on the island about the national park and its lack of enforcement. Its always hard to tell where things are getting stopped in the chain of comand, of course.
He spoke some english which was really helpful. He said the national park couldn't be strick about enforecement - and when i asked why, he said because it was way too big. too big for them to patrol for one. but also that the fishing boats were peoples jobs and they needed to work. If the fishing boats didn't come in the national park, they wouldn't get anyfish.... I kept asking around to try to see what he would say and eventually he said "the laws in Thailand are not like the laws in Malasia or the USA. The laws in thailand have holes in them" . When i asked if the budget they got from the goverment was enough he said "not enough. not enough. not enough. not enough. not enough". Apparently they only have enough money for oil for the boat to patrol about two days a week... when they had a boat. Apparently the boat is in for repairs for the month, was last month, and will be next month. I have a foggy recelection it was also in for repairs six months ago... So now they can only patrol in a small longtail boat: meaning its too dangerous to go out at night.
Mr B. appeared quite concerned about the bleaching, as well as any illigal logging on Adang (by locals to build boats, or use in thier houses). I wondered, personally, that taking one tree was kind of like taking one big fish, but clearly there was a difference here.
The tax that is paid by the tourist who come, 47.5% goes to other parks,5% the local gov, and 47.5% to lipe: but it can only be spent to service tourists NOTon patrolling orprotecting the park. I.e. for repairin the national park's bungalows. The money is sent into the national park center and redsitributed.
I thanked Mr B. for his really good (long!) 1.5 hour interview and Onna and Pauli and I climbed the mountain behind the station. It was hard and hot! uh oh landsea! (but at least canada wont' be hot). We found out there wasn't a waterfall at the top, butwe were traveling waterfalls by the first five minutes. From the top Lipe looked like a postcard. The terquoise water and the little boats like cows comiing into feed from a blue field...
Then Onna relaxed while Pauli and I went on a huge adventure to try to findthe waterfall. The path was obscured by huge vines and wove right into the jungle (sort of parallel the beach but far away). We saw everything on our walk! a forest rodent, squirrels, a small monitor lizard, a huge basketball sized flying squirrel glinding between the trees, a black and white hornbill, bats under a big bolder, and monkeys high in the tree tops!! horay!!! i've wantted to see wild monkeys so badly! We probably saw so much becausei don't think anyone has walked that path for many months. We didn't find the waterfall though. It dead ended in a huge bolder strewn riverbed. We hiked along the little trickel for 20 minutes, took a picture standing proudly at a knee high trickel, and hiked back.
That evening i had dinner with Dariusand Bee, and went for a long swim out into the bay. It was beautiful, the feel of the water on my shoulders without the rashgard, and the coral omminous beneath the surface.
There was no one on the island except for a few families/workers employed by the national park. The finnish couple took a bit to go swimming and relax on the beach, and i went in search of someone to interview. The ranger stations were closed, empty, but not locked. There was a saveworldsavelife / playboy calander hanging in one. I found out later, the national park (all of it including everwhere i've been snorkling ect.) is stricktly technically closed this season. Eventually, i was directed to the head of the area's national park, who was working at a compter on his porch. I forgot his name so i'm going to call him Mr. B for now. Mr. B and i talked for an hour and a half. It was wired to talk to him, after hearing s much on the island about the national park and its lack of enforcement. Its always hard to tell where things are getting stopped in the chain of comand, of course.
He spoke some english which was really helpful. He said the national park couldn't be strick about enforecement - and when i asked why, he said because it was way too big. too big for them to patrol for one. but also that the fishing boats were peoples jobs and they needed to work. If the fishing boats didn't come in the national park, they wouldn't get anyfish.... I kept asking around to try to see what he would say and eventually he said "the laws in Thailand are not like the laws in Malasia or the USA. The laws in thailand have holes in them" . When i asked if the budget they got from the goverment was enough he said "not enough. not enough. not enough. not enough. not enough". Apparently they only have enough money for oil for the boat to patrol about two days a week... when they had a boat. Apparently the boat is in for repairs for the month, was last month, and will be next month. I have a foggy recelection it was also in for repairs six months ago... So now they can only patrol in a small longtail boat: meaning its too dangerous to go out at night.
Mr B. appeared quite concerned about the bleaching, as well as any illigal logging on Adang (by locals to build boats, or use in thier houses). I wondered, personally, that taking one tree was kind of like taking one big fish, but clearly there was a difference here.
The tax that is paid by the tourist who come, 47.5% goes to other parks,5% the local gov, and 47.5% to lipe: but it can only be spent to service tourists NOTon patrolling orprotecting the park. I.e. for repairin the national park's bungalows. The money is sent into the national park center and redsitributed.
I thanked Mr B. for his really good (long!) 1.5 hour interview and Onna and Pauli and I climbed the mountain behind the station. It was hard and hot! uh oh landsea! (but at least canada wont' be hot). We found out there wasn't a waterfall at the top, butwe were traveling waterfalls by the first five minutes. From the top Lipe looked like a postcard. The terquoise water and the little boats like cows comiing into feed from a blue field...
Then Onna relaxed while Pauli and I went on a huge adventure to try to findthe waterfall. The path was obscured by huge vines and wove right into the jungle (sort of parallel the beach but far away). We saw everything on our walk! a forest rodent, squirrels, a small monitor lizard, a huge basketball sized flying squirrel glinding between the trees, a black and white hornbill, bats under a big bolder, and monkeys high in the tree tops!! horay!!! i've wantted to see wild monkeys so badly! We probably saw so much becausei don't think anyone has walked that path for many months. We didn't find the waterfall though. It dead ended in a huge bolder strewn riverbed. We hiked along the little trickel for 20 minutes, took a picture standing proudly at a knee high trickel, and hiked back.
That evening i had dinner with Dariusand Bee, and went for a long swim out into the bay. It was beautiful, the feel of the water on my shoulders without the rashgard, and the coral omminous beneath the surface.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Local Fishing Trip
Today I went out fishing with the blond sweedish couple Onna and Pauli. It was the best day I have had so far!
I interviewed Solep in the morning – to try to get an illegal immigrant islander perspective as another steakholder group. Unfortunatly, his thai is very much comprised of practical words no academic ones. When he didn’t know what environment, problems, or nature, meant I knew it was going to be one of my shorter interviews. I did ask him what were the good things and bad things about living on Lipe and she said for good that there were no police so he didn’t have to be afraid because he has no passport.
Jaeng arrived after breakfast and Solep told him that his (soleps) mother had broken a vein in her head and was very sick. It was so sad, because there is no way Solep can go back to burma to see her. Shirtless, with a chest cut from hard construction work, in a towel smoking a cigarette, he started to cry. Jaeng made sure Solep had a way to call home, and wasn’t going to go to work today.
Jaeng gave me a ride over in the morning on his red motorcycle. Onna and Pauli and I sat in the shade of the beautiful Castaway resort where the tourists are staying, while Jaeng rounded up our boat. There were three men onboard, a famously good fisherman named Pi Mon, another younger fisherman named Joy, and a thirteen year old boy named Jehw.
On the way out Pi Mon showed me the lines we would be using. The put a weight at the end of a plastic ring wrapped with a lot of fishing wire, then above the weight five hooks baited with duck feathers or frayed bits a shiny plastic rope. We drop the end into the sea, very deep, until it hits bottom and then bounce the line up and down, as the boat drifts along in the currents. After a minute or so we pull up the line, to check. Sometimes it comes up laden with many fishes!
We spent the day cruzing around all over the archipelago. Sometimes we would go far out into the ocean, to where the big fishing boats had dropped foam floats with food for the little fishes. At the first one of these we arrived at the same time as one other boat. Pi Mon pulled up his line with our first fish, three or four small yellow Sargent angels. He tossed them back into the sea one at a time, brining each fish to his face for a second as if sniffing or kissing it. By the last fish, our boat and the other had drifted close to eacother. Mon shouted something at the other solo fishinerman and threw the last fish at the other boat. It barely didn’t make it into the boat and bounced into the sea. The fisherman shouted something at eacother and laughed.
I asked to learn to tie the hooks and the oldermen had the younger boy teach me – which was extremely fun. Once I got a hang of it, they took out a pile of a dozen hooks and said “pratice till they are gone” and everyone laughed, but I was realty happy to tie the hooks. I made my own line and fished with it, and caught over the day…. About five tiny tiny tiny reef fish about the size of my palm! Haha. Pauli got pretty good though and pulled in quite a few good ones.
The sky was big, and the day sunny, and the company lovely. Onna and Pauli learned the words for “fish’ and “big”. Sometimes the ocean would erupt around us as big fish tried to catch little ones and the fish would splash out of the water in a smacking splashing wave. “blah blah blah blah blah’ Pauli and Onna would chant “fish fish fish fish fish fish” the Fishermen laughed and everyone joined in shouting “blah blah blah blah blah yai blah yai “Fish and big fish”.
We snorkled a bit over lunch, with several dog jawed barracuda.
By the end of the day the bottom of the boat was full of fish. We pulled in mackerel and grouper, and several others. Now and again one of the fish would go into a fit of flapping as it dried out. By the end we had a garbage bad a quarter full (40 fish?).
I asked if we could all eat together at Pi Mons house, and the answer was yes. Onna and Pauli were up for the adventure, and went home to shower. I rode into the village wit the men and the fish on a motorcycle side car. As we rode into the village, people, mostly kids, shouted hellos and the fishers and at “gigi” which was nice. We met with Jaeng who was hanging out at Mons house. Suddenly a boy appeared with three half meter baby black tip sharks in his hand! I was surprised and half depressed half delighted. “the little sharks have soft sweet meat!” someone said.
Jaeng invited me to take a shower in a bath-shack in the village, meaning I wrapped in my sarong towel and poured rainwater over myself as I stood on a cement block surrounded by piles of burning trash and meandering dogs and ducks.
Wandering around I saw Mon cleaning the fish behind the house, fluffy kittens interacting with the gangly chickens, and kids flocking around a young woman who was cracking Chiton into a bowl. To imagine a Chiton think of those plated armored things you always see as early under the sea creatures in natural history museaums. These ones live stuck like barnacles onto rocks. The woman expertly stripped them down the grate like bodies of tough hard pale meat. I learned about Chiton in my Organism Diversity class right before coming to Thailand the first time and had been so excited to try them when I heard they were eaten in the islands. But this was my first sighting! I tired a piece of the meat, it was… extremely hard and I chewed very cautiously. It was not bad, I decided, although not exactly good tasting either. But I was so happy to eat it!
The kids flocked to look at pictures, and suddenly one said next to my ear “excuse me, she wants to look” and I almost jumped out of my skin. It was a young boy, about 6, who was talking. I remembered suddenly hearing gossip this kid who spoke english and Thai and had a chow lay father and farang mother. He was great!
My camera ran out of batteries so Onna Pauli and I went into town to buy fruit for dinner, and I ran home to get the charger. I met Jaeng there, which was hilarious, since we had just been talking in the village about how far it was back to Sanom beach when neither of us had been planning to come home before dinner. Solep was using Jaengs motorcycle to buy a huge bag of something, (cement? Rice?) and Jaeng and I sat together on a log as sunset came and talked until Solep returned.
Onna, Pauli and I arrived before dinner was done. The village was ripe with barking dogs, and the houses on slits, and trash fires, and as I led them to the house I saw struck by the place in their eyes – the way someone might see it if they hand’t spent 7 months of the last year living in cities and villages all over Thailand. He houses were big in a way – big for shacks? Big for things on stilts with corrugate roofs? They were sort of tossed together beyond the sandy road and into the patches of swamp and jungle. Inbetween were bird cages, and birds loose, bath cement slabs, and parked motorcycles, and bits or garden, and outdoor sitting platforms, and dogs, and kids, and bicycles, and trees stacked with barrels and fishing poles… all sorts of things! Large TVs were playing cartoons or the news from inside many of the houses.
We arrived and they met Jaeng and several others and we were ushered into one of the houses to watch T.V. and wait for dinner to be ready. We gave the host our bags of fruit which I was told to put in the corner of the kitchen. Four kids were running like crazy all over the house, one was doing her homework aloud. One older girl laid out a blue mat in front of us, and when she walked about a chubby little boy started doing running slides onto the mat, crashing and laughing and rolling around where he landed. At one point the first girl came back in and saw him, shouted at him, hit him, shouted somemore and left him face first and silent in the center of the floor. I was worried this would overwhelm my Finnish friends, but no worry. “I guess that was going to be our kitchen table” said onna. “no running on the kitchen table” said Pauli “I guess that’s what just happened”. The english speaking kid started chasing the table running kid with a toothpick and chaos resumed.
Omg. Too much to write. Diner!!! Jaeng, Mon, and the three of us ate together and what a meal!!! First there was sweet and sour fish in a thick red sauce, then salty fried fish, (all we had caught today), the stirfried vegtables.. but that’s just starters. After that there was cold lime salad of chopped Chiton. Thai people have never eaten this. Siad Jaeng introducing the Chiton dish. It is a Chow Lay specialty. And last but not least was a big spicy bowl of sauce and shark meat!!!
This was a source of internal conflict for me. I’ve been not eating fish this trip, to not put one more pressure on the fish population here. I’m torn because its so local, and the chow lay seem to harvest in a somewhat sustainable way (line fishing or trap fishing) but only becuase its part of the island culture and certainly supporting the local people! So I decide I would eat a little fish, when it was offered to me by an islander and it would be rude or inconsiderate to refuse. Anyway, there was no putting the sharks back in the water. I wish i could have seen them there, not on my plate, but I also didn't want to pass up such a once in a life time opportunity.
The shark was, unfortunately, really good.
So that’s how I came to be in a fishermans house, eating my catch of the day, and rock chiton salad, and baby shark, on a tiny remote tropical island, in the middle of the ocean, off the coast of Thailand, on the otherside of the world. [Later Pouli and I joked about making sure to say it was baby shark, because how much more demasculating it was to say "i at baby shark" b "i ate shark meat"]
The baby shark meat sort of fell apart in your mouth it was so soft. Jaeng mentioned shark fin soup and shook his head disapprovingly. I thought of all the shark fin soup in the world, and didn’t understand why the rest of the shark wasn’t around either – unless the meat gets very tough as the shark gets older???
After dinner, we and several village men, and Darius and Bee (from Café Lipe), sat together and some people smoked cigarettes and others drunk coffee and we told stories. Jaeng told a story (which I actually understood 80% of without the translation by Bee) that went like this:
A long time ago Python was very venomous. He wasn’t like today, but had strong strong venom and everyone was afraid of him. One day a farmer was working in a field and he found four or five big crabs in his field. He wanted to take them home for dinner but he didn’t have any bag, or anyplace to put them, so he put them in his shirt. Soon after he surprised Python and Python bit him in the leg, and since python was very poisonous back then the farmer fell over dead. The cows flying over saw the farmer and came down to see him and peck him, but then they saw his chest was still moving and alive! (he wasn’t actually alive, see, he was dead as dead but the crabs in his shirt were all moving so the crows thought he was alive.) Python doesn’t have any vemon anymore! They said. His venom is no good anymore, it has no value! And they went around telling all the other people and animals. Now, python was really upset/angry that his vemon was no good anymore and he spit up all of his venom. Then many other animals found the venom and took it forthemselves: the kind cobra, the spiders, the bees, and all the other animals that now are poisenous, the last to get there were the ants. Since they were last only some got venom and some didn’t. The red ant was so angry that he didn’t get the poison like the other ants that he sucked in his stomach, and that is why the red ants have such skinny smalls waists.
The conversation also turned serious: like to a 12 year old boy who died while hooka diving about three years ago. To the dangers of this kind of diving, and how many many people used to die from it, because the chow lay didn’t know, Jaeng said. Why do they still do it, if they know its dangerous? I asked. I dunno said Bee, Jaeng said its not as dangerous now because they know not to stay down for many hours and to come up slowly… still sounds very dangerous, I said. Everybody seemed to agree with this. The number 100 came up as the number of people who have died from this type of diving since it first came to the village… I don’t think that it has an particular accuracy, but its scary.
When I couldn’t keep my eyelids open anymore I walked home with Bee and Darius. I felt I had crossed some sort of “coolness of my life” bench mark – like this is the SIP I always wanted to do, or learning how to tie a hook and line and fishing in a tiny wooden boat with locals was something I had always had on the list of amazing things to do before I die, I’d just never known that specific item was on there until today. On my bungalow hammock and wrote a “life list” before falling into bed.
I interviewed Solep in the morning – to try to get an illegal immigrant islander perspective as another steakholder group. Unfortunatly, his thai is very much comprised of practical words no academic ones. When he didn’t know what environment, problems, or nature, meant I knew it was going to be one of my shorter interviews. I did ask him what were the good things and bad things about living on Lipe and she said for good that there were no police so he didn’t have to be afraid because he has no passport.
Jaeng arrived after breakfast and Solep told him that his (soleps) mother had broken a vein in her head and was very sick. It was so sad, because there is no way Solep can go back to burma to see her. Shirtless, with a chest cut from hard construction work, in a towel smoking a cigarette, he started to cry. Jaeng made sure Solep had a way to call home, and wasn’t going to go to work today.
Jaeng gave me a ride over in the morning on his red motorcycle. Onna and Pauli and I sat in the shade of the beautiful Castaway resort where the tourists are staying, while Jaeng rounded up our boat. There were three men onboard, a famously good fisherman named Pi Mon, another younger fisherman named Joy, and a thirteen year old boy named Jehw.
On the way out Pi Mon showed me the lines we would be using. The put a weight at the end of a plastic ring wrapped with a lot of fishing wire, then above the weight five hooks baited with duck feathers or frayed bits a shiny plastic rope. We drop the end into the sea, very deep, until it hits bottom and then bounce the line up and down, as the boat drifts along in the currents. After a minute or so we pull up the line, to check. Sometimes it comes up laden with many fishes!
We spent the day cruzing around all over the archipelago. Sometimes we would go far out into the ocean, to where the big fishing boats had dropped foam floats with food for the little fishes. At the first one of these we arrived at the same time as one other boat. Pi Mon pulled up his line with our first fish, three or four small yellow Sargent angels. He tossed them back into the sea one at a time, brining each fish to his face for a second as if sniffing or kissing it. By the last fish, our boat and the other had drifted close to eacother. Mon shouted something at the other solo fishinerman and threw the last fish at the other boat. It barely didn’t make it into the boat and bounced into the sea. The fisherman shouted something at eacother and laughed.
I asked to learn to tie the hooks and the oldermen had the younger boy teach me – which was extremely fun. Once I got a hang of it, they took out a pile of a dozen hooks and said “pratice till they are gone” and everyone laughed, but I was realty happy to tie the hooks. I made my own line and fished with it, and caught over the day…. About five tiny tiny tiny reef fish about the size of my palm! Haha. Pauli got pretty good though and pulled in quite a few good ones.
The sky was big, and the day sunny, and the company lovely. Onna and Pauli learned the words for “fish’ and “big”. Sometimes the ocean would erupt around us as big fish tried to catch little ones and the fish would splash out of the water in a smacking splashing wave. “blah blah blah blah blah’ Pauli and Onna would chant “fish fish fish fish fish fish” the Fishermen laughed and everyone joined in shouting “blah blah blah blah blah yai blah yai “Fish and big fish”.
We snorkled a bit over lunch, with several dog jawed barracuda.
By the end of the day the bottom of the boat was full of fish. We pulled in mackerel and grouper, and several others. Now and again one of the fish would go into a fit of flapping as it dried out. By the end we had a garbage bad a quarter full (40 fish?).
I asked if we could all eat together at Pi Mons house, and the answer was yes. Onna and Pauli were up for the adventure, and went home to shower. I rode into the village wit the men and the fish on a motorcycle side car. As we rode into the village, people, mostly kids, shouted hellos and the fishers and at “gigi” which was nice. We met with Jaeng who was hanging out at Mons house. Suddenly a boy appeared with three half meter baby black tip sharks in his hand! I was surprised and half depressed half delighted. “the little sharks have soft sweet meat!” someone said.
Jaeng invited me to take a shower in a bath-shack in the village, meaning I wrapped in my sarong towel and poured rainwater over myself as I stood on a cement block surrounded by piles of burning trash and meandering dogs and ducks.
Wandering around I saw Mon cleaning the fish behind the house, fluffy kittens interacting with the gangly chickens, and kids flocking around a young woman who was cracking Chiton into a bowl. To imagine a Chiton think of those plated armored things you always see as early under the sea creatures in natural history museaums. These ones live stuck like barnacles onto rocks. The woman expertly stripped them down the grate like bodies of tough hard pale meat. I learned about Chiton in my Organism Diversity class right before coming to Thailand the first time and had been so excited to try them when I heard they were eaten in the islands. But this was my first sighting! I tired a piece of the meat, it was… extremely hard and I chewed very cautiously. It was not bad, I decided, although not exactly good tasting either. But I was so happy to eat it!
The kids flocked to look at pictures, and suddenly one said next to my ear “excuse me, she wants to look” and I almost jumped out of my skin. It was a young boy, about 6, who was talking. I remembered suddenly hearing gossip this kid who spoke english and Thai and had a chow lay father and farang mother. He was great!
My camera ran out of batteries so Onna Pauli and I went into town to buy fruit for dinner, and I ran home to get the charger. I met Jaeng there, which was hilarious, since we had just been talking in the village about how far it was back to Sanom beach when neither of us had been planning to come home before dinner. Solep was using Jaengs motorcycle to buy a huge bag of something, (cement? Rice?) and Jaeng and I sat together on a log as sunset came and talked until Solep returned.
Onna, Pauli and I arrived before dinner was done. The village was ripe with barking dogs, and the houses on slits, and trash fires, and as I led them to the house I saw struck by the place in their eyes – the way someone might see it if they hand’t spent 7 months of the last year living in cities and villages all over Thailand. He houses were big in a way – big for shacks? Big for things on stilts with corrugate roofs? They were sort of tossed together beyond the sandy road and into the patches of swamp and jungle. Inbetween were bird cages, and birds loose, bath cement slabs, and parked motorcycles, and bits or garden, and outdoor sitting platforms, and dogs, and kids, and bicycles, and trees stacked with barrels and fishing poles… all sorts of things! Large TVs were playing cartoons or the news from inside many of the houses.
We arrived and they met Jaeng and several others and we were ushered into one of the houses to watch T.V. and wait for dinner to be ready. We gave the host our bags of fruit which I was told to put in the corner of the kitchen. Four kids were running like crazy all over the house, one was doing her homework aloud. One older girl laid out a blue mat in front of us, and when she walked about a chubby little boy started doing running slides onto the mat, crashing and laughing and rolling around where he landed. At one point the first girl came back in and saw him, shouted at him, hit him, shouted somemore and left him face first and silent in the center of the floor. I was worried this would overwhelm my Finnish friends, but no worry. “I guess that was going to be our kitchen table” said onna. “no running on the kitchen table” said Pauli “I guess that’s what just happened”. The english speaking kid started chasing the table running kid with a toothpick and chaos resumed.
Omg. Too much to write. Diner!!! Jaeng, Mon, and the three of us ate together and what a meal!!! First there was sweet and sour fish in a thick red sauce, then salty fried fish, (all we had caught today), the stirfried vegtables.. but that’s just starters. After that there was cold lime salad of chopped Chiton. Thai people have never eaten this. Siad Jaeng introducing the Chiton dish. It is a Chow Lay specialty. And last but not least was a big spicy bowl of sauce and shark meat!!!
This was a source of internal conflict for me. I’ve been not eating fish this trip, to not put one more pressure on the fish population here. I’m torn because its so local, and the chow lay seem to harvest in a somewhat sustainable way (line fishing or trap fishing) but only becuase its part of the island culture and certainly supporting the local people! So I decide I would eat a little fish, when it was offered to me by an islander and it would be rude or inconsiderate to refuse. Anyway, there was no putting the sharks back in the water. I wish i could have seen them there, not on my plate, but I also didn't want to pass up such a once in a life time opportunity.
The shark was, unfortunately, really good.
So that’s how I came to be in a fishermans house, eating my catch of the day, and rock chiton salad, and baby shark, on a tiny remote tropical island, in the middle of the ocean, off the coast of Thailand, on the otherside of the world. [Later Pouli and I joked about making sure to say it was baby shark, because how much more demasculating it was to say "i at baby shark" b "i ate shark meat"]
The baby shark meat sort of fell apart in your mouth it was so soft. Jaeng mentioned shark fin soup and shook his head disapprovingly. I thought of all the shark fin soup in the world, and didn’t understand why the rest of the shark wasn’t around either – unless the meat gets very tough as the shark gets older???
After dinner, we and several village men, and Darius and Bee (from Café Lipe), sat together and some people smoked cigarettes and others drunk coffee and we told stories. Jaeng told a story (which I actually understood 80% of without the translation by Bee) that went like this:
A long time ago Python was very venomous. He wasn’t like today, but had strong strong venom and everyone was afraid of him. One day a farmer was working in a field and he found four or five big crabs in his field. He wanted to take them home for dinner but he didn’t have any bag, or anyplace to put them, so he put them in his shirt. Soon after he surprised Python and Python bit him in the leg, and since python was very poisonous back then the farmer fell over dead. The cows flying over saw the farmer and came down to see him and peck him, but then they saw his chest was still moving and alive! (he wasn’t actually alive, see, he was dead as dead but the crabs in his shirt were all moving so the crows thought he was alive.) Python doesn’t have any vemon anymore! They said. His venom is no good anymore, it has no value! And they went around telling all the other people and animals. Now, python was really upset/angry that his vemon was no good anymore and he spit up all of his venom. Then many other animals found the venom and took it forthemselves: the kind cobra, the spiders, the bees, and all the other animals that now are poisenous, the last to get there were the ants. Since they were last only some got venom and some didn’t. The red ant was so angry that he didn’t get the poison like the other ants that he sucked in his stomach, and that is why the red ants have such skinny smalls waists.
The conversation also turned serious: like to a 12 year old boy who died while hooka diving about three years ago. To the dangers of this kind of diving, and how many many people used to die from it, because the chow lay didn’t know, Jaeng said. Why do they still do it, if they know its dangerous? I asked. I dunno said Bee, Jaeng said its not as dangerous now because they know not to stay down for many hours and to come up slowly… still sounds very dangerous, I said. Everybody seemed to agree with this. The number 100 came up as the number of people who have died from this type of diving since it first came to the village… I don’t think that it has an particular accuracy, but its scary.
When I couldn’t keep my eyelids open anymore I walked home with Bee and Darius. I felt I had crossed some sort of “coolness of my life” bench mark – like this is the SIP I always wanted to do, or learning how to tie a hook and line and fishing in a tiny wooden boat with locals was something I had always had on the list of amazing things to do before I die, I’d just never known that specific item was on there until today. On my bungalow hammock and wrote a “life list” before falling into bed.
Raw Urchin Meat
This morning found a group of women sitting in a circle on the beach. Around them orbited a gang of little kids, some on bicycles, some with orange bottles of soda. They sat around two plastic tarps -- one blue, one green. In the center of the group was a mountain of black sea urchins. The cinadrians? Plucked fresh from the sea waggled and twitched their long black spines in protest to the salty air. The pile seemed to shiver and jive and even the broken husks that sat in smaller radiating piles were twitching their spines feebly. The women used an array of tools, one a long piece of wood, one what looked like a pick-ax, one a crow bar like wrench, and pulled the urchins one at a time from the pile. Then the pounded the urchin with the tool to break the brittle, but very sharp, spines. The detached pieces of spine littered the sand like drifts of needles. The pounded a circle around the center photosensitive “eye” of the urchin. An eye which looked like a white star flecked with bright blue spots like glinted here and there on the black body as well. Once they had pounded a nubby ring of spikes around this eye, they could pull out the center. Along with the eye the hard heart of the urchin slipped out from the rest of the hollow body. Inside was a yellow and brown mass of insides, which the women expertly carved out with a twist of their thumb. Working in pairs, the pounder and scooper & and cutter and cleaner, who could be distinguished by their hands: The pounder by her black stained hands glittering with the pieces of black spine clinging to the backs of her fingers, the cutter and cleaner but her wet clean hands, clutching a pen knife to seperate the brown guts from the spongy yellow meat. They collected the meat in big plastic tubs of sea water, tossing the empty husks into piles behind them. The radial children retruned now and again without streached palms. They squatted next to their mothers, who would reply with either a stern scolding or a piece of raw yellow meat.
I came across the women on Pattaya beach, just in front of one of Lipe’s bigger and fancier resorts “Bundaya Resort”. Several smiled when I came over, and answered that the sea urchins were called Hoi, and yes I could take pictures. One small girl, who I guess has come to recognize me, greeted my thigh with a head-butt and refused to release it from a fierce hug even at the embarrassed urging of her mother. I took a hundred or so photos in the next hour.
When the pile began to dwindle, men came trudging up out of the sea. They pulled behind them blue oil barrels filled with the twitching urchins. The men, several of whom I could see now were large boys, were shirtless and wore masks and snorkels. They dragged the blue barrels up the sandy beach and replenished the mountain with its twitching rocks. A young boy – maybe three or four years old – helped gather the broken husks and pile them back into the empty barrels. He carefully approached the piles, plucked a piece at a time between his chubby fingers, and chucked the spiky shells into openings in the drums.
There was the sound of crunching shells, and occasional bursts of gossip as the women worked. After a while, a LadyBoy came over and joined. She squatted next to the tarp, balancing her beautiful handbag on her leg, and hacked at the urchin with her crowbar-wrench, all the while tossing snips of gossip among the other women or chattering at the children. Once she had broken into the Hoi she would pass it to her neighbor and so her hands were not blacken from the Hoi juices, and in fact, her fingernails were long and pink. I liked her immediately.
Once I got the courage up to ask questions, I was met with a slightly warmer brew of being completely ignored than I experienced with the noodle makers. I sat between a woman in a blue skirt named Julie and woman in a green skirt with a yellow shirt. I found out the Hoi were delicious raw and with lime and very spicy chilies. They were even better cooked, or in Tom Yum soup. I asked if I could taste and the group rumbled with laughter. “The farang wants to taste’ said someone. And Julie dipped her hands into the babypool like tub of brown water and pulled out a piece of meat about the size of an almond. I held the meat with my fingertips: it was wet and very spongy or porous. It was a dark yellow, and had a smell like piers or fresh seafood that made me think instantly of my summers growing up in Maine. “What flavor does it have?” I asked. “I don’t know” laughed Julie, and “sweet, sweet” said someone else. Everybody glanced up at me and I grinned and put it in my mouth. It was delicious, strong and sweet like an oyster.
I asked if they sold the meat, and they said sometimes at Pak Bara pier. One kilo sold for one hundred bhat: about three dollars. I looked at the circle of women carefully navigating the spiky, poky, dangerous creatures with expert black stained hands and I figured each hoi produced about five of those almond sized slivers of meat in maybe two of three minutes of cracking. I asked how many Hoi today? “many Hoi” someone finally answered. I asked if it was dried first. No one understood, or no one answered. I asked in one month, how often they collected Hoi. No one answered. I asked if they collected Hoi often. No one answered. I asked in Lipe had environmental problems. “Yes”, said the woman in the yellow shirt “Trash and the coral”. “The coral is degrading?” I asked. “yes,” she said. “Why is it declining?” I asked. “It is white” she said. “Do you know why it is white?” I asked. “It’s the same as everywhere, in Phuket, and Krabi and Taroutao” she said.
When I had filled an entire SD card, I just sat for a while with the women. Watching the kids run into eachother on their bicycles down the beach. One girl came over crying, and the mom in the yellow shirt scolded her. The Lady Boy mimicked her. She said to me, “she likes to sing songs”. A few men helped cleaning the urchins, though most went back to the sea or retired in the shade of an empty resort restaurant behind us. Now and again curious Thai workers from Bundaya or curious tourists peered over. One Bhundaya worker had curry hair and I knew him from the first day when he rescued me and my bags from an embarrassing walk across the island from the ferry. “one month has gone quickly” he said, when I told him I was on the island for only three more days. “Yeah,” I said, “that is really true. I’m sad.”
I ate and ventured into the Urak Lawoi village as rain clouds started to sweep in ove the island. I found Pi Maew and her husband Bom in one of their bungalows, making a map of how to get to their resort from the mainland. Being one month familiar with the place, I could make out how to follow it, but I wasn’t so sure a new tourist would be able to do the same. I asked her for suggestions on who to interview. She suggested I go over to the church, which was open minded of her since in her interview she talked about how she has issues with the islands Christians, mostly over how they intentionally went on singing late into the night after she asked them to stop since her guests at her bungalows were complaining about the loud music coming from the nearby church.
I went over and the people I met (a family, pastor, wife kids, and two LadyBodys -- I’m not sure how they were related, or where the Ladyboys are coming from all of a sudden) were very friendly, nice, folks who spoke slowly for my understanding benefit. The fisherman talked about an idea to make artificial reefs, so that the big boats couldn’t take the fish from these reefs, but the Chow lay could go fish there. Apparently, they’ve made this type of reef in Krabi and it works well. Little fish come live in concete coral, than bigger and bigger fish come along too.
Next, I interviewed Pi Boonchu, my boat driver of yesterday’s snorkeling trip and my diving trips. Now, I must go to bed because it is midnight and I don’t have time to write so much more. I hung out with Maew and Bom and took photos around LIpe and the trash cleaning up group made a bar-b-que all day and we met for another wonderful dinner, this time at Darius and Bees house. I interviewed Darius more, lovely, and will go fishing tomorrow on a Chow Lay boat. Either, it will be a chance for participant observation for Chow Lay fishing, or for Chow Lay taking Farang fishing and Farang fishing (Onna and Pauli) or for both!
I came across the women on Pattaya beach, just in front of one of Lipe’s bigger and fancier resorts “Bundaya Resort”. Several smiled when I came over, and answered that the sea urchins were called Hoi, and yes I could take pictures. One small girl, who I guess has come to recognize me, greeted my thigh with a head-butt and refused to release it from a fierce hug even at the embarrassed urging of her mother. I took a hundred or so photos in the next hour.
When the pile began to dwindle, men came trudging up out of the sea. They pulled behind them blue oil barrels filled with the twitching urchins. The men, several of whom I could see now were large boys, were shirtless and wore masks and snorkels. They dragged the blue barrels up the sandy beach and replenished the mountain with its twitching rocks. A young boy – maybe three or four years old – helped gather the broken husks and pile them back into the empty barrels. He carefully approached the piles, plucked a piece at a time between his chubby fingers, and chucked the spiky shells into openings in the drums.
There was the sound of crunching shells, and occasional bursts of gossip as the women worked. After a while, a LadyBoy came over and joined. She squatted next to the tarp, balancing her beautiful handbag on her leg, and hacked at the urchin with her crowbar-wrench, all the while tossing snips of gossip among the other women or chattering at the children. Once she had broken into the Hoi she would pass it to her neighbor and so her hands were not blacken from the Hoi juices, and in fact, her fingernails were long and pink. I liked her immediately.
Once I got the courage up to ask questions, I was met with a slightly warmer brew of being completely ignored than I experienced with the noodle makers. I sat between a woman in a blue skirt named Julie and woman in a green skirt with a yellow shirt. I found out the Hoi were delicious raw and with lime and very spicy chilies. They were even better cooked, or in Tom Yum soup. I asked if I could taste and the group rumbled with laughter. “The farang wants to taste’ said someone. And Julie dipped her hands into the babypool like tub of brown water and pulled out a piece of meat about the size of an almond. I held the meat with my fingertips: it was wet and very spongy or porous. It was a dark yellow, and had a smell like piers or fresh seafood that made me think instantly of my summers growing up in Maine. “What flavor does it have?” I asked. “I don’t know” laughed Julie, and “sweet, sweet” said someone else. Everybody glanced up at me and I grinned and put it in my mouth. It was delicious, strong and sweet like an oyster.
I asked if they sold the meat, and they said sometimes at Pak Bara pier. One kilo sold for one hundred bhat: about three dollars. I looked at the circle of women carefully navigating the spiky, poky, dangerous creatures with expert black stained hands and I figured each hoi produced about five of those almond sized slivers of meat in maybe two of three minutes of cracking. I asked how many Hoi today? “many Hoi” someone finally answered. I asked if it was dried first. No one understood, or no one answered. I asked in one month, how often they collected Hoi. No one answered. I asked if they collected Hoi often. No one answered. I asked in Lipe had environmental problems. “Yes”, said the woman in the yellow shirt “Trash and the coral”. “The coral is degrading?” I asked. “yes,” she said. “Why is it declining?” I asked. “It is white” she said. “Do you know why it is white?” I asked. “It’s the same as everywhere, in Phuket, and Krabi and Taroutao” she said.
When I had filled an entire SD card, I just sat for a while with the women. Watching the kids run into eachother on their bicycles down the beach. One girl came over crying, and the mom in the yellow shirt scolded her. The Lady Boy mimicked her. She said to me, “she likes to sing songs”. A few men helped cleaning the urchins, though most went back to the sea or retired in the shade of an empty resort restaurant behind us. Now and again curious Thai workers from Bundaya or curious tourists peered over. One Bhundaya worker had curry hair and I knew him from the first day when he rescued me and my bags from an embarrassing walk across the island from the ferry. “one month has gone quickly” he said, when I told him I was on the island for only three more days. “Yeah,” I said, “that is really true. I’m sad.”
I ate and ventured into the Urak Lawoi village as rain clouds started to sweep in ove the island. I found Pi Maew and her husband Bom in one of their bungalows, making a map of how to get to their resort from the mainland. Being one month familiar with the place, I could make out how to follow it, but I wasn’t so sure a new tourist would be able to do the same. I asked her for suggestions on who to interview. She suggested I go over to the church, which was open minded of her since in her interview she talked about how she has issues with the islands Christians, mostly over how they intentionally went on singing late into the night after she asked them to stop since her guests at her bungalows were complaining about the loud music coming from the nearby church.
I went over and the people I met (a family, pastor, wife kids, and two LadyBodys -- I’m not sure how they were related, or where the Ladyboys are coming from all of a sudden) were very friendly, nice, folks who spoke slowly for my understanding benefit. The fisherman talked about an idea to make artificial reefs, so that the big boats couldn’t take the fish from these reefs, but the Chow lay could go fish there. Apparently, they’ve made this type of reef in Krabi and it works well. Little fish come live in concete coral, than bigger and bigger fish come along too.
Next, I interviewed Pi Boonchu, my boat driver of yesterday’s snorkeling trip and my diving trips. Now, I must go to bed because it is midnight and I don’t have time to write so much more. I hung out with Maew and Bom and took photos around LIpe and the trash cleaning up group made a bar-b-que all day and we met for another wonderful dinner, this time at Darius and Bees house. I interviewed Darius more, lovely, and will go fishing tomorrow on a Chow Lay boat. Either, it will be a chance for participant observation for Chow Lay fishing, or for Chow Lay taking Farang fishing and Farang fishing (Onna and Pauli) or for both!
Volunteer Trash Pick-Up Day
This morning as I trekked out of Sanom Beach, the cycle of the tides brought big waves sloshing underneath the bamboo path. Pi Jaeng warned Ra Wang Tanon Mai Pai be careful of the bamboo path (he actually used the word path in Thai which I’ve forgotten and replaced with road) and then Mai Keng Rang Lao Its not strong anymore. Its so nice to be learning more and more Thai. Progress is slower than it could be since so many of the key players here speak English, but I’m still learning and loving the opportunity to speak Thai.
I met a slim blond boy at Pee Pee Bakery, where I got a chocolate croissant for breakfast. I told him about the snorkeling trip and he was really keen to go. At Pooh’s place I met back up with Neils and Jessica, a honeymooning couple, who are also interested so the trip was a full booked go ahead!
At 11:00 Neils Jessica, and I went to meet Pi Tasha start a volunteering day to pick up trash on the road and beech. We got big black garbage bags, and walked down to the beech together and no sooner had we reached the beach and started putting things into bags, when a wonderful Thai couple (friends of Tasha and I) come along and start helping us out too: It was Pi Som (who in an earlier chapter sold the hotdogs on a stick) and her husband with a motorbike and sidecar. John came and joined, and then two more Dutch tourists came and joined in. Soon we had gotten more bags and rakes and were raking debris, and sorting recycling. Some construction workers on their break from the resort we were cleaning in front of came out to pitch in too. It was delightful to see the tourists, and the islanders cleaning and working together. I can’t say we weren’t having a really good time, actually.
We cleaned all the way around a Thai man lounging in a hammock by the sea, who watched us revealing little in his impassive face: perhaps he was equally balanced by no wanting us to disturb his relaxation or ask him to join, and not minding us cleaning his front yard. I thought it was a little funny, Neils was frustrated at first saying “look how they just watch us and do nothing!” I said, “maybe he’s working hard on a construction job and this is his one break in the day so he wants to relax not have some foreigners telling him what to do”. Beyond him, there were two guys who were sitting together, one got up to help and the other got up and left so as not to have to. The one who helped held the bag while I picked up bits of rubbage to toss in – bottle caps, crushed cups, the occasional diaper, bits of string and foam pieces (which crumble in your fingers frustratingly) and shards of broken glass and so many disposable lighters and water logged flip flops! We said we could start a shoe store, if you can find two of the same you don’t have to pay. Also, I don’t see how there could possibly be enough smokers to account for all of the disposable lighters I have found on beaches over my life. Beaches must be where disposable lighters go to die.
When we had done about maybe 5% of the kilometer beach a nice streach on either side of the Walking Street road, we went up onto the raod. Here we loaded up the side care on the motorcycle with the bags, and we’d got quite a system going for rubbage, and plastic, and glass and aluminum. At the first store, the woman store owner donated more plastic bags and offered us all a free drink from the cooler. We took a break, sitting on the front step and hanging around the motorcycle, chatted, joked, and felt very wonderful. It was so nice to be able to do something to help, and to pitch in alongside new friends. The new Holland couple introduced themselves as Onna and Grald. Neither looked like the kind of person I would have pegged to pick up trash for a whole day in the hot sun during their vacation: and that exactly why judging someone by looking at them is nuts. She had platinum blond hair, medium short length, and he was a big guy wearing a red t shirt. I can’t say, now, why I was so surprised and delighted when they joined in. Maybe it was how they picked up the trash at first; they looked like they were picking up trash. Holding it in small handfuls away from their bodies like it might smell on them or cut them or ooze on them at any moment. This, of course, was the rational way to handle it, but by the end we were all grubbing big handfuls of litter, picking little bits from the dirt, tossing and sorting into the motorcycle car like pros. We had quite an armada as we went down the street, receiving more donations of bags, and new helping hands as we went. We built a sort of crazy efficient machine, with Pi Som and Pi Newt, a Thai woman who works near the pharmacy, sweeping into pans, and Tasha wraking up piles that Jessica and I would pluck through, and Grald, Neils and John grabbing the bigger pieces, and Pi Newi driving the motorcycle slowly along to our new spot… and so on. Between the hilarious John and Neils we were laughing and joking all day long. At one point, by the hot and long end (three and a half hours later), Neils and John were skipping and singing an Australian version of 99 bottles of beer on the wall. We made it all the way down the walking street. We had some water and guava – the fruit that gives foreigners or Farang their name. this led enevitably to more echos of the joke “a foreigner eats a guava” “or Farang eats a Farang”
About half way, a little tiny girl with a giant rainbow umbrella came out and followed us. When we were busy trying to decide what to do with a huge pile of junk a family had just let accumulate in front of some currently out of commission bins by their home, the little girl came over and took a rake quietly from near the cart. She proceeded to start raking the leaves in the street behind us. Pi Tasha ran to get the rake back before I could snap a photo, but it almost broke my heart with happiness to see her copying our cleaning brigade.
By three o’clock we were exhausted, and Lipe’s main street was shinning. We took a break, but all agreed to meet back up at 7 pm at Tasha’s for a big bar-b-que dinner together. We showered, snacked, and recovered. I met with Tasha and helped make salad in the tiny kitchen behind her place. He place is actually… this a storage garage. Many of the stores along walkingstreet are like storage garages, and Tasha bought one and sells tickets, and snorkeling equipment and stuff in the front, has a table and chairs on the side, and built a little tiny room for a bed room and bathroom int eh back. Then there is a mini add on kitchen behind the unit in another little room, and her chili pepper and lemon grass garden that fills her “sideyard,” –a garden that would also fit in a bathtub.
Tasha is an unbelievable cook. Neils and Jessica came by early too, and we made a beautiful long table outside under the afternoon sky, with table clothes and huge platter of fruits (lychee, Long Kong (brown balls like hard grapes, but with grapefruit flavored jellies on the inside) and some spiky brown tear shapped fruits, with stiff brown inside sections that were sour and sweet). We made a heaping salad a cubbed fruist and veg and cheese, and had many drinks Tasha marinaded the chicken. The guests came along and night fell and we lit the table with candles and cheer, and ate and ate and laughed and laughed and made very very good friends. Tasha brought out the pinapple chicken, and it was actually probably the best chicken I have ever eaten. And Neils said so and Tasha got so embarrassed and angry (from too may compliments) that John and Neils had a ball continuing to get her goat about how good it was, and it was every bit as good as they said, which made it even funnier. I was almost crying with laughter.
I met up with the skinny blond boy and his girl friend who were having a fabulous time at Time to Chill bar. You couldn’t meet nicer people than I’ve met today. They were extremely excited to go. We sat under the rasta lights laughing and talking for a bit. When I got back, it turns out our snorkel group grew to nine persons, as everyone except the Thai’s who had to work, wanted to come along. I had asked Pi Boonchu, our boatman, is 8 was ok earlier, or if 6 was better for one boat (thinking this might happen) and he said two boats was better for 8, but Tasha said “no!” we all go together so everybody pays less! But refused to call him and tell him that. I got kind of annoyed that she was acting like this. It was already only 7 dollars or so per person for the whole day, and if she was going to challenge him on how he ran his boat she better actually tell him not expect me to! But John said he saw how for my money, I was happy to support another of Boonchu’s friends for another boat he but he agreed with Tasha saying in Thailand he’d learned to sticking out for your own interests first. I said we could talk to him about it tomorrow, all of us, and eitherway we would all go so that was that I guess. Neils very helpfully kept running out to Pooh’s place to increase the number of lunches we would be ordering to bring along.
((turned out Tasha didn't show up at all, and the eight of us went and just payed a few extra bhat for the extra people. The day was great fun, although the conditions wern't great in the morning:the tide was high and the water foggy so it was kinda hard to see. .. we ate on a beach looking out over the mountians, and snorkeled over giant clams that sloshed their jaws shut when our shadows crossed their colorful lips.)
I was proud of our volunteer group. It definatly made an impression on people on the island because people kept bringing it up when i went by. Some people teased saying things like "oh when there is more trash can i call you to come pick it up?" or asked why we were doing it or said "more will come anyway". It was a little sad to see how even the next day waves had brought more trash back to the beach, and the street (which we now watched with eagel eyes as we walked around) had new empty cups and cigarette butts and wrappers even the next morning -- an there are no excuses for the street: thats people here not waves.
I met a slim blond boy at Pee Pee Bakery, where I got a chocolate croissant for breakfast. I told him about the snorkeling trip and he was really keen to go. At Pooh’s place I met back up with Neils and Jessica, a honeymooning couple, who are also interested so the trip was a full booked go ahead!
At 11:00 Neils Jessica, and I went to meet Pi Tasha start a volunteering day to pick up trash on the road and beech. We got big black garbage bags, and walked down to the beech together and no sooner had we reached the beach and started putting things into bags, when a wonderful Thai couple (friends of Tasha and I) come along and start helping us out too: It was Pi Som (who in an earlier chapter sold the hotdogs on a stick) and her husband with a motorbike and sidecar. John came and joined, and then two more Dutch tourists came and joined in. Soon we had gotten more bags and rakes and were raking debris, and sorting recycling. Some construction workers on their break from the resort we were cleaning in front of came out to pitch in too. It was delightful to see the tourists, and the islanders cleaning and working together. I can’t say we weren’t having a really good time, actually.
We cleaned all the way around a Thai man lounging in a hammock by the sea, who watched us revealing little in his impassive face: perhaps he was equally balanced by no wanting us to disturb his relaxation or ask him to join, and not minding us cleaning his front yard. I thought it was a little funny, Neils was frustrated at first saying “look how they just watch us and do nothing!” I said, “maybe he’s working hard on a construction job and this is his one break in the day so he wants to relax not have some foreigners telling him what to do”. Beyond him, there were two guys who were sitting together, one got up to help and the other got up and left so as not to have to. The one who helped held the bag while I picked up bits of rubbage to toss in – bottle caps, crushed cups, the occasional diaper, bits of string and foam pieces (which crumble in your fingers frustratingly) and shards of broken glass and so many disposable lighters and water logged flip flops! We said we could start a shoe store, if you can find two of the same you don’t have to pay. Also, I don’t see how there could possibly be enough smokers to account for all of the disposable lighters I have found on beaches over my life. Beaches must be where disposable lighters go to die.
When we had done about maybe 5% of the kilometer beach a nice streach on either side of the Walking Street road, we went up onto the raod. Here we loaded up the side care on the motorcycle with the bags, and we’d got quite a system going for rubbage, and plastic, and glass and aluminum. At the first store, the woman store owner donated more plastic bags and offered us all a free drink from the cooler. We took a break, sitting on the front step and hanging around the motorcycle, chatted, joked, and felt very wonderful. It was so nice to be able to do something to help, and to pitch in alongside new friends. The new Holland couple introduced themselves as Onna and Grald. Neither looked like the kind of person I would have pegged to pick up trash for a whole day in the hot sun during their vacation: and that exactly why judging someone by looking at them is nuts. She had platinum blond hair, medium short length, and he was a big guy wearing a red t shirt. I can’t say, now, why I was so surprised and delighted when they joined in. Maybe it was how they picked up the trash at first; they looked like they were picking up trash. Holding it in small handfuls away from their bodies like it might smell on them or cut them or ooze on them at any moment. This, of course, was the rational way to handle it, but by the end we were all grubbing big handfuls of litter, picking little bits from the dirt, tossing and sorting into the motorcycle car like pros. We had quite an armada as we went down the street, receiving more donations of bags, and new helping hands as we went. We built a sort of crazy efficient machine, with Pi Som and Pi Newt, a Thai woman who works near the pharmacy, sweeping into pans, and Tasha wraking up piles that Jessica and I would pluck through, and Grald, Neils and John grabbing the bigger pieces, and Pi Newi driving the motorcycle slowly along to our new spot… and so on. Between the hilarious John and Neils we were laughing and joking all day long. At one point, by the hot and long end (three and a half hours later), Neils and John were skipping and singing an Australian version of 99 bottles of beer on the wall. We made it all the way down the walking street. We had some water and guava – the fruit that gives foreigners or Farang their name. this led enevitably to more echos of the joke “a foreigner eats a guava” “or Farang eats a Farang”
About half way, a little tiny girl with a giant rainbow umbrella came out and followed us. When we were busy trying to decide what to do with a huge pile of junk a family had just let accumulate in front of some currently out of commission bins by their home, the little girl came over and took a rake quietly from near the cart. She proceeded to start raking the leaves in the street behind us. Pi Tasha ran to get the rake back before I could snap a photo, but it almost broke my heart with happiness to see her copying our cleaning brigade.
By three o’clock we were exhausted, and Lipe’s main street was shinning. We took a break, but all agreed to meet back up at 7 pm at Tasha’s for a big bar-b-que dinner together. We showered, snacked, and recovered. I met with Tasha and helped make salad in the tiny kitchen behind her place. He place is actually… this a storage garage. Many of the stores along walkingstreet are like storage garages, and Tasha bought one and sells tickets, and snorkeling equipment and stuff in the front, has a table and chairs on the side, and built a little tiny room for a bed room and bathroom int eh back. Then there is a mini add on kitchen behind the unit in another little room, and her chili pepper and lemon grass garden that fills her “sideyard,” –a garden that would also fit in a bathtub.
Tasha is an unbelievable cook. Neils and Jessica came by early too, and we made a beautiful long table outside under the afternoon sky, with table clothes and huge platter of fruits (lychee, Long Kong (brown balls like hard grapes, but with grapefruit flavored jellies on the inside) and some spiky brown tear shapped fruits, with stiff brown inside sections that were sour and sweet). We made a heaping salad a cubbed fruist and veg and cheese, and had many drinks Tasha marinaded the chicken. The guests came along and night fell and we lit the table with candles and cheer, and ate and ate and laughed and laughed and made very very good friends. Tasha brought out the pinapple chicken, and it was actually probably the best chicken I have ever eaten. And Neils said so and Tasha got so embarrassed and angry (from too may compliments) that John and Neils had a ball continuing to get her goat about how good it was, and it was every bit as good as they said, which made it even funnier. I was almost crying with laughter.
I met up with the skinny blond boy and his girl friend who were having a fabulous time at Time to Chill bar. You couldn’t meet nicer people than I’ve met today. They were extremely excited to go. We sat under the rasta lights laughing and talking for a bit. When I got back, it turns out our snorkel group grew to nine persons, as everyone except the Thai’s who had to work, wanted to come along. I had asked Pi Boonchu, our boatman, is 8 was ok earlier, or if 6 was better for one boat (thinking this might happen) and he said two boats was better for 8, but Tasha said “no!” we all go together so everybody pays less! But refused to call him and tell him that. I got kind of annoyed that she was acting like this. It was already only 7 dollars or so per person for the whole day, and if she was going to challenge him on how he ran his boat she better actually tell him not expect me to! But John said he saw how for my money, I was happy to support another of Boonchu’s friends for another boat he but he agreed with Tasha saying in Thailand he’d learned to sticking out for your own interests first. I said we could talk to him about it tomorrow, all of us, and eitherway we would all go so that was that I guess. Neils very helpfully kept running out to Pooh’s place to increase the number of lunches we would be ordering to bring along.
((turned out Tasha didn't show up at all, and the eight of us went and just payed a few extra bhat for the extra people. The day was great fun, although the conditions wern't great in the morning:the tide was high and the water foggy so it was kinda hard to see. .. we ate on a beach looking out over the mountians, and snorkeled over giant clams that sloshed their jaws shut when our shadows crossed their colorful lips.)
I was proud of our volunteer group. It definatly made an impression on people on the island because people kept bringing it up when i went by. Some people teased saying things like "oh when there is more trash can i call you to come pick it up?" or asked why we were doing it or said "more will come anyway". It was a little sad to see how even the next day waves had brought more trash back to the beach, and the street (which we now watched with eagel eyes as we walked around) had new empty cups and cigarette butts and wrappers even the next morning -- an there are no excuses for the street: thats people here not waves.
Pi Jaeng
Last night Neil and Amanda had a going away party. The employees of Pooh’s Bar, Mr. Barry and his family (a Dive shop owner), two honeymooners who were also having a nice diner, and Neil, Amanda, and I, all ate together at a line of tables with red checkered tablecloths and candles. For my vegetarian dive leader friends there was an array of Tofu: Tofu friend with dipping sauce, Tofu appetizers with mushrooms, Tofu Tom Yum…
I had breakfast with Pi Solep and Dehwehwim again. The flavor was rich and delightful, and although the meal was tough, meaty, and salty, none of that made my stomach hurt which was a joy.
The honeymooners might be interested in sharing a day of snorkeling in the national park so that will be very nice.
I interviewed Pi Jaeng this afternoon. I found him surveying the terraces he had just carved into the hillside behind one of the bungalows – the new home for a terraced garden. He finished planting a batch of flowers around the resort and we sat together on a little gazebo platform near the sea. Thanks to Jaengs slow speaking, clear Thai, and generally amiablity it was by far the most long and successful interview I’ve done it Thai – although that wasn’t surprising. The talked about the positives and negatives of a fishing life – a life he used to live before starting the Sanom Beach resort. A fisherman has freedom, he said. The income isn’t steady, sometimes you are lucky and sometimes you are not lucky, and sometimes you friend is lucky all month and you are not lucky, but you know there is always anotherday when you will be lucky again, and you can eat what you catch so you don’t need to buy anything. He disagreed with what Pi Maew said that people share the fish they catch, saying in the old days the Chow Lay used to do this, but now they expect money in exchange for giving another Chow Lay fish. He said long ago the Chow Lay didn’t know about protecting the ocean. Then, when the national park was made it was a good thing. But the Chow Lay just kept on fishing destructively when and where the national park wasn’t looking. Then people were arrested. He also did this when he was young, but was lucky he was never arrested. It was a good thing tourists, and development, and the national park came because, he said, in his opinion, if they hadn’t the nature on the island would be better, but the sea would be worse. Somebody with a boat can make more steady income, and make more money by taking the tourists to see the coral, he explained....
I had breakfast with Pi Solep and Dehwehwim again. The flavor was rich and delightful, and although the meal was tough, meaty, and salty, none of that made my stomach hurt which was a joy.
The honeymooners might be interested in sharing a day of snorkeling in the national park so that will be very nice.
I interviewed Pi Jaeng this afternoon. I found him surveying the terraces he had just carved into the hillside behind one of the bungalows – the new home for a terraced garden. He finished planting a batch of flowers around the resort and we sat together on a little gazebo platform near the sea. Thanks to Jaengs slow speaking, clear Thai, and generally amiablity it was by far the most long and successful interview I’ve done it Thai – although that wasn’t surprising. The talked about the positives and negatives of a fishing life – a life he used to live before starting the Sanom Beach resort. A fisherman has freedom, he said. The income isn’t steady, sometimes you are lucky and sometimes you are not lucky, and sometimes you friend is lucky all month and you are not lucky, but you know there is always anotherday when you will be lucky again, and you can eat what you catch so you don’t need to buy anything. He disagreed with what Pi Maew said that people share the fish they catch, saying in the old days the Chow Lay used to do this, but now they expect money in exchange for giving another Chow Lay fish. He said long ago the Chow Lay didn’t know about protecting the ocean. Then, when the national park was made it was a good thing. But the Chow Lay just kept on fishing destructively when and where the national park wasn’t looking. Then people were arrested. He also did this when he was young, but was lucky he was never arrested. It was a good thing tourists, and development, and the national park came because, he said, in his opinion, if they hadn’t the nature on the island would be better, but the sea would be worse. Somebody with a boat can make more steady income, and make more money by taking the tourists to see the coral, he explained....
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Sickness
Hello all,
Sorry i haven't posted in a while. I've been sick for the last 5 days. :( Luckily nothing so bad as Dengue. The health clinic here gave me some meds for my symptoms. I think (hope to heck) i'm almost better now. Its been extremely frustrating to be so close to so many fun amazing things, in such a beautiful place, with such a big project, and to be inoperable, miserable, and confined to my bungalow. The first day I thought i had just got heat exhaustion, but when after a day of hydration and rest the 15 minute walk into town took an hour, and a spoonful of broth made me super nauseous I realized it must be something more. I just at my first real meal in 5 days tonight! YIPPEE!!
Up until the sickness I had been working ahead of schedule on my project to hopefully get all the necessary interviews in for sure and then have a with time for a little adventuring at the end... so i think, luckily, i'll still have enough time to finish up the interviews i need before my flight up to Chaing Mai in 8 days. Its frustrating, but I keep reminding myself that in the scheme of life its a small thing. I'm looking forward to getting back out into the action with a new appreciation for the simple things ...like the feel of the waves on my feet again, and walking and sitting without back pain!
Love,
Gigi
Sorry i haven't posted in a while. I've been sick for the last 5 days. :( Luckily nothing so bad as Dengue. The health clinic here gave me some meds for my symptoms. I think (hope to heck) i'm almost better now. Its been extremely frustrating to be so close to so many fun amazing things, in such a beautiful place, with such a big project, and to be inoperable, miserable, and confined to my bungalow. The first day I thought i had just got heat exhaustion, but when after a day of hydration and rest the 15 minute walk into town took an hour, and a spoonful of broth made me super nauseous I realized it must be something more. I just at my first real meal in 5 days tonight! YIPPEE!!
Up until the sickness I had been working ahead of schedule on my project to hopefully get all the necessary interviews in for sure and then have a with time for a little adventuring at the end... so i think, luckily, i'll still have enough time to finish up the interviews i need before my flight up to Chaing Mai in 8 days. Its frustrating, but I keep reminding myself that in the scheme of life its a small thing. I'm looking forward to getting back out into the action with a new appreciation for the simple things ...like the feel of the waves on my feet again, and walking and sitting without back pain!
Love,
Gigi
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