Farroupilha Week

The southern Brasilian state of Rio Grande do Sul is an area of rich heritage and an extremely proud people. It is bordered on the south by Uruguay and on the west by Argentina.

Rio Grande do Sul is a state of many surprises. The first is that it is home to many blond Brasilians. In fact, 82.3% of the inhabitants are white and 5.9% are black. Rio Grande do Sul is home to supermodels such as Gisele Bundchen, Fernanda Lima, Caroline Trentini, Ana Hickman, and Jeisa Chiminazzo to name just a few.

It is in Rio Grande do Sul that Brasil gets snow fall. The interior of the state has mountains and gets cold enough to have snow sometimes.

Brasil's vineyards are located in the upper elevations of Rio Grande do Sul. Not surprisingly the higher elevations have many people descended from Italian or German immigrants.

The settlers of early Rio Grande do Sul were "gaucha" - the Brasilian equivalent of the American cowboy or the "gaucho" of Argentina. To this day cattle production and exports is a large part of the Rio Grande do Sul economy.

Like American cowboys, the gaucha were fiercely independent and free thinkers. After the Brasilian national government placed a heavy tax on a type of dry beef produced in Rio Grande do Sul but not on the same product imported from Argentina or Uruguay, the gaucha rebelled in 1835. The gaucha were poor people of the land and often their clothing was ragged and torn. Their rebellion was referred to as "Farrapos War" or "Ragged War" - a populous uprising, another case of peasants against the establishment with the outcome that most populous rebellions have - defeat. The war against the central government lasted until 1845. The war ended when the gaucha capital of Porto Alegre was captured on 20 September 1845.

To commemorate the rebellion, culture, and traditions of the gaucha, a large celebration is held every September in Porto Allegre. For 20 days around 700 people set up and camp at the Harmony Park to enact the gaucha rebellion. The highlight of the event is the week ending on 20 September and is referred to as "Semana da Farroupilha"

In 2005, while on assignment in Porto Alegre, I attended the festivities - I even have the tee shirt.

There are many civic groups or social groups dedicated to preserving and teaching the gaucha culture. These groups are known as CTGs (Center Gaucha Traditions). During September and specifically during Farroupilha Week they reenact the 1840's gaucha life - very much like American Civil War reenactments.

Each group has a small wood building and fenced off area for their members. The building is where they sing, dance, play music, drink, eat, and cook as if it were 1845. A few of their horses are kept near the building with the remainder kept in the common stockyard. All the club members are dressed in period costume. Large wood fires are kept outside of the buildings for roasting beef and pick - gaucha style. Gaucha style involves placing the large pieces of meat on either wood or metal skewers that are driven into the ground around the hot coals of the wood fire. The meat is slowly roasted for hours and is absolutely delicious. There are not BBQ sauces or seasoning other than salt applied to the thick cuts of meat. After the meat is cooked it is brought inside the building to large tables wear it is cut into serving portions using large butcher knives - knives that all self-respecting gaucha carry.


The Park is filled with the club members as well as visitors to the festival. In addition to the encampments there are booths selling gaucha products, foods, music, clothing, literature, and souvenirs. Since September is a wet month, the park also becomes a quagmire but that only adds to the uniqueness of this festival.

The club members are very friendly. They enjoy having their photograph taken and often invite you to enter their compound to better photograph the festivities and partake in the celebration.
I stopped at one compound and hung around the perimeter split wood fence taking pictures of the roasting meat. A man noticed me and invited me in for a closer look. I entered and took some shots of the meat spits. I was then invited inside of their building.

Inside a gaucha band was playing music, people were dancing, people were socializing, and just about everyone was drinking. Some people were drinking "chimarrao" - a tea type drink similar to mate made out of shredded holly type leaves. Drinking chimarrao is the state pastime in Rio Grande do Sul. Everywhere you will see people sitting around holding a wooden gourd shaped vessel with a thick layer of shredded leaves floating atop very hot water. The tea is sipped from the bottom of the wood vessel through a specialized metal straw. These rigs are readily available through out the state. Some of the straws are intricate works of art with ornate carving or made out of silver.

I spied a typical looking young woman drinking her chimarrao while leaning against the wall and photographed her. I was then given a beer and plate of food - no payment expected or accepted.

After awhile there was a big commotion in the room. There was a man walking around and people were tripping over themselves to pay their respects to this elderly man. I asked around and found out that he was the former governor of the state and a very high official in the current national ruling party. He was a true politician leaving no baby unkissed or hand unshaken - including mine.

Again the hospitality of a people proud of their identity and traditions.

In addition to the celebrations at Harmony Park there is a huge parade through the city. It was an enjoyable experience.

Many reasons to go back to a special place and people.

Fishing For Food

On the way home from the hospital yesterday, we came upon some people fishing along the main highway.

This is the same area where I had photographed a woman fishing using a dip net in July. The area is a flood plain that fluctuates in depth with the seasons. The water was quite high in the period from July to October - our rainy season. Now the water has receded quite a bit although we did get a small shower today - our first rain in a very long time.


For the past two weeks people have been busy cleaning up the dry brush and weeds from the drainage ditches and puddles of this flood plain. People have been installing and repairing the various fish fences placed in the water. The fish fences are constructed out of wood sticks driven into the mud with blue monofilament netting attached to the sticks with string. The fish fence is not directly involved in capturing the fish but serves to restrict their movement and concentrate the number of fish in a specific area. Dip and hand nets are then used to catch the fish in the concentrated areas. I suspect that the cleaning of the low areas and installation as well as repair of the fences is in preparation for the upcoming rainy season.

We had stopped earlier in Kumphawapi for Duang's son-in-law to buy a new hand net for his parents. It seems that everyone is getting into fishing this month. The large dipping nets have been basically idle since the end of November but the bamboo structures associated with the dipping nets remain in place. At certain points the area looks like a fishing camp with the number of platforms and suspended nets in place.

Fishing nets are readily available in the many small quasi-hardware shops in the villages and towns of Isaan. Some of the nets are very fine as in delicate. They appear to be made out of 4 to 6 pound test nylon thread. There is no need for heavier material because the fish that are caught in the nets are essentially minnows - the bait sized fished that we called "shiners" back home.

Today Duang's mother sent some food to the hospital to feed us. Of course there was sticky rice for all. Along with the rice she had made a soup out of vegetables and fish. The fish were about the size of bait fish back home or fish in your home aquarium - no more than 3 to 4 inches long from the tip of their mouth to the tip of their tail fins. With such small fish you might wonder how difficult it is to clean them for eating. There is no problem at all in cleaning them - you don't. The fish are cooked as they were caught. People use a metal spoon to scrape the flesh off of the body to eat.


With the lower levels of water essentially creating mud holes, the fishing strategy has changed to using hand nets rather the dip nets. The people get into the muddy water which is up to their waist and cast a large net on the water. They appear to be using the fish fence as a barrier to work their net against. The hand net sinks and the people get down almost on all fours in the water working the net to see what it has fallen on top of. The fish are captured by hand and placed in a home made creel made out of small diameter sticks. The people were having pretty good luck yesterday - catching some "big" ones - up to 9 inches long.


There is at least one tackle shop that I know of here in Udonthani and there are a couple of booths where you can buy some rods and reels. Fishing here is more of a food gathering process than a sport. As such, nets are much more efficient than a hook and line.

Sport fishing is not luxury that is within the reach of Lao Loum farmers here in Isaan.

Family Business

We have been very busy over the past three days - "family business".

On Monday, we took Duang's father to the Kumphawapi Hospital to have one of his two remaining teeth removed. There was a long wait but our visits to the hospital are always so interesting that the time goes by quickly. We always see relatives, villagers, or friends at the community hospital. The highlight of Monday's visit was a three year old girl who was being cared for by her grandfather. She went into the bathroom and managed to lock herself into the stall. She was not panicking but her grandfather was getting concerned. As mall group of concerned visitors tried to assist the grandfather but the little girl did not get out until the cleaning lady came with the special key to open the door. The little girl came out smiling and happy as if nothing had happened. We were able to observe all this because the bathroom is an open architecture. Like the bathrooms at many gas stations, the bathroom is a row of little tile lined stalls on each side of a common set of three sinks. The rooms on the right are meant for women and the left side is intended for men. Inside each of the tile rooms is a ceramic squat toilet set into the floor.

On Tuesday we were back at the hospital. We brought Duang's daughter in for her check-up. She was due to deliver her baby this week. I joked with her about hitting some of the many ruts in the road to help initiate her labor. Her appointment went well.

Wednesday morning we were back at the hospital. Duang's daughter went into labor on Tuesday night and delivered a 7 pound 14 oz boy (3.6 Kg). He 's the giant of the nursery - most Thai babies are under 6 pounds 8 oz. He was born at 9:14 in the morning. We arrived at the hospital around 10:30 AM.

Giving birth in Isaan is very different than in the USA. When it is time to deliver, the expectant mother goes into the delivery room alone with the medical staff. Husbands, mothers, or others are not allowed in the delivery room. After delivery, the mother and baby are returned to the labor ward to be observed to ensure both are stabilized and healthy. We arrived and had to wait outside with the other family members for about an hour and one-half.

Again the wait was quite entertaining. A two year old was with us. She kept us laughing with her antics. She would put on her grandmother's shoes and walk around. She wandered around the outside walkway looking and talking to anyone and everyone UNTIL ... Until she saw the first cat in her life. I have written about the outside walkway as a waiting area, sleeping area, eating area, thoroughfare for patients, and private domain of cats. The little girl was in her own little world singing and talking to no one in particular. She looked down at her feet and saw one of the hospital cats walking buy. She was terrified - worse than having a "falang" (foreigner) paying attention to her. She has been leery of me for about three months. We went and rescued her from the cat. I let her know that I would protect her from the cat. In about 5 minutes she was laughing and joking about the cat. However when another cat came by, she told her grandmother to tell the falang to get rid of the cat. It was good to see that she will not be psychologically scarred or traumatized for the rest of her life by this incident.

After awhile Duang's daughter was wheeled out along the open walkway through the crowd of patients waiting to see a doctor, get their medicine or paying their bill to the Maternity Ward. Shortly later the baby along with another one was wheeled along the same path atop a stainless steel cart - two little faces showing up from two tightly bound bundles of towels. No arms or legs were visible.

I followed the babies over to the Maternity Ward. The babies were removed from the transport cart and placed on a counter top. The nurses took their temperatures by putting a thermometer in their arm pit. Then the babies were each given a shot. They were then brought to their mothers.

Peelawat, the final and last of his four different names for the day, was in fine health and started nursing without any trouble. He had his first bowel movement. Duang assisted in cleaning him up. Pampers or other artificial diapers are not used here. The babies have cloth diapers but not cloth diapers that we used in the USA. Baby diapers here are a thin and soft flannel type fabric. The diaper is about 20 inches square. The diaper is folded over to form a large triangle, the baby is placed on the triangle, the point of the triangle is brought up between the baby's legs and placed on their stomach, the two remaining points of the triangle are brought across the baby's hips and tied in a knot over the top of the first flap, finally the tip of the first triangular flap is brought down and tied into the first knot.

When the baby makes a mess, they are not cleaned with any pre-prepared wipes. The baby is cleaned with cotton pads like are used for removing makeup along with tap water out of a cup. The mother or a relative handles cleaning the baby. Hospital staff support is limited to taking temperatures, giving shots, and ensuring there are no problems with breast feeding.

Today, Duang cleaned the soiled diapers from yesterday. Since her daughter is in a private room, she has her own bathroom. Duang went in the bathroom and washed the diapers by hand. This was expected and is typical because the hospital supplies a large stainless steel bowl and a smaller plastic bowl along with special baby laundry solution for washing diapers. After washing the diapers, outfits, and baby blanket, Duang hung them on the clothes drying rack stationed on the room's balcony.

Family members cleaning is not limited to just the baby. Yesterday when Duang's daughter got up and went to the bathroom, I noticed that there was some large blood smears on the blue plastic sheet on top of the bed. No problem - Duang and two of the other women grabbed some toilet paper along with a few of the baby cotton pads and cleaned it up. No need for staff.

Family members are not hard to find. When we left the hospital last night there were still 9 people in the room visiting. They come prepared to stay - they bring their woven mats, jugs of water, and plastic bags of food. They set up and have a picnic in the room. If they run out of food, someone goes out to the food stalls on the street outside of the hospital grounds and brings back more food.

Tomorrow we will return to the hospital to bring Momma and baby back to their village. Rumor has it that there will also be a party to welcome the baby home as well as to have a Baii Sii ritual for his protection. Sounds like a photo op!

Yellowstone In Winter

One of the interesting aspects in setting up this blog as well as my photography web site, is the opportunity to revisit places that I have been before. In many cases places that I have revisited and hope to visit again.

This year's Super Bowl is over. Here in Thailand it was this morning, 2 February starting at 6:30 in the morning.

I caught a little at the start of the game - unfortunately it included the National Anthem. I know that I should be kind and gentle regarding Jennifer Hudson because of her personal tragedy last year BUT IT'S THE NATIONAL ANTHEM OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA! National anthems are supposed to be hard driving renditions in the realm of "God Save The Queen", the Soviet National Anthem, not an ethnocentric "cat a wailing" as presented to the world at the Super Bowl. It sounded very much like the two neighborhood cats here that were in heat last week. But to be honest, I was not surprised at either the choice of the performer nor the rendition of the anthem.

The last time that the Steelers were in the Super Bowl, 2006, I returned to my house from my trip to Yellowstone National Park just in time to watch the game.

Yellowstone is one of my favorite destinations. When I encounter people from foreign lands that are planning to visit the United States, Yellowstone is one of my strongest recommendations for them to visit. I discourage people from visiting the large cities especially New York City and Washington D.C.

My lack of enthusiasm for New York City isn't entirely due to my disliking of the Yankees, Knicks, and Rangers. I don't even recommend Boston to foreigners. My prejudice is against large cities. Most cities in America have a counterpart elsewhere in the world. Most these foreign cities have more to offer than the comparable American city. American large cities don't really offer much uniqueness to them. Skyscrapers dominate the skylines of all large cities in the world. Given the rise of Asia in the past 50 years, the relatively newer skylines of Asia are more unique and interesting than New York. Paris has better food than any US city. Paris and London have better museums than Washington. Hong Kong has better shopping than New York with the advantage of not having to deal with New Yorkers. New Orleans is an embarrassment. San Francisco, although dirty, is interesting but to me there are much better places to spend your time and money - the US National Parks.

What America has that is unique and precious is our natural beauty exemplified by our superior National Park System.

Yellowstone is one of my favorite National Parks. I typically visit the park in early June before the schools let out for summer. The first time that I visited Yellowstone in the Winter was in 2004. I read an article in the newspaper about touring Yellowstone in the Winter. Three weeks later I flew up to Bozeman, Montana. One trip in the Winter was all it took - to convince me that the Park is even better in the Winter.

I returned to Yellowstone in January and February 2006 to look for wolves. I signed up for tour with the Yellowstone Association. I was driving up to the Park so I allowed a couple extra days to tour the Park on my own - a great decision.

Road access in the Winter is limited - basically the northern Mammoth Springs part of the Park . There are few people in the Park during the winter are researchers or serious photographers or hard core tourists. This establishes a much greater sense of camaraderie than in the Summer when hordes of people with their children clog the roads in their over sized campers.

In the Winter the only congestion that you find on the roads are herds of bison using the semi plowed road for ease of travel. At pullouts along the road, you will find "professional" wolf watchers all too willing to share their knowledge about the Yellowstone wolves with you, latest sighting information, and a peek through their specialized spotting equipment. At other pull outs, as you eat your lunch in the peaceful solitude of a snow covered countryside, you may encounter University or federal researchers studying creatures such as elk, bison, coyotes, wolves, or mountain lions. They are also willing to share some of their time and knowledge.

The hardships of survival are more apparent in the Winter. Buffalo and elk carcasses provide the necessary nutrition for crows, coyotes, wolves and other animals to survive. The strains of winter survival are very visible on the elk and bison. As a part of our tour with a bonafide naturalist we were brought to the site of a recent wolf kill. We also used snow shovels to imitate the winter grazing efforts of the bison. The tour provided a greater understanding and appreciation of the ability of the park's wildlife to survive. All this plus wonderful natural beauty with very few people.

We hope to tour the USA starting this June. Naturally Yellowstone is towards the top of our list - just below family to see.

Isaan Innocence - Fern

These are a couple pictures of one of the younger villagers in Tahsang Village. Her name is "Fern" and she is the daughter of another cousin of Duang's. Just about everyone in Tahsang Village is related to her. She even has relatives in the next village.

Fern is 2 years old. She is not too comfortable with me. Getting pictures of her is a real challenge. However with big dark eyes like hers, any and all work to photograph her are worth the effort. I typically steal some shots of her while I am photographing Kwan.

Like most small children in Isaan, Fern is well behaved and keeps close to the adult caring for her. Her father, mother, and grandmother seem to share the caring for Fern equally.

Like Kwan, Fern does not have many toys to amuse herself. She has a large stuffed Disney cartoon character that she carries around. Other than that she makes do with whatever else is available - food wrappers, string, pieces of wood, pieces of bamboo, and plastic bottles.

Fern as well as the other small children of Tahsang Village are brought to the various platforms outside of village houses to sit on their care giver's lap while the adults socialize. The little children have the opportunity to interact with children their own age as well as to check out the new borns that are brought around.

When the children get to be three years old, they become more independent and play with their older brothers, sisters, as well as other children their age. Play involves chasing bicycles, chasing each other, kicking things around. Sometimes after the older children return from school, a girl may give dancing lessons to the young toddlers or teach them as if they were in school.

The children start school when they are three years old - a sort of nursery school. They attend nursery school until they are six years old. Parents pay for they children to attend the nursery school. It is always a pleasant sight to see all the little people dressed in their school uniforms going off to school.

Children attend a local school for six years - if the family can afford the loss of hands for field work. It is a sad reality that all children are not able to finish at least six years of school. Things have improved a little, people used to have to pay school fees for the first six years of school but today it is free. To continue their schooling after 6 years, the children have to got to the high school in Kumphawapi - additional transportation costs along with school fees.

The lack of education makes breaking out of the poverty difficult for the people of Isaan. They are relegated to subsistence farming on the poor soils of Isaan, driving taxis in Bangkok, low paying construction work throughout Thailand, housekeeping, and service industry jobs in the tourism industry.

Even at two years old, young Fern is already a victim of poverty. She as well as the rest of the children is kept clean and although their clothes maybe old or hand me downs, the children are well clothed or at least the ones who decide to wear them. In Tahsang Village there is a 1-1/2 year old boy who often walks around without pants sometimes without any clothing. He takes his clothes off. My grandson went through the same phase. Now that he is three he is keeping his clothes on. Hopefully the little Tahsang Village boy is only going through the same stage in his development.

The children are also well fed. I have not seen any malnourished children a fact that I attribute to the wide spread practise of breast feeding and the Lao Loum utilization of alternative food sources for their diet. I know that if I were able to overcome my personal and cultural biases towards many of the Lao foods with Duang around I would never starve and most likely never go hungry. Born into the Lao Loum culture the Isaan children have no prejudices or biases to overcome.

Fern is a victim of poverty in regards to her health care. The other day when we were in the village I took the second picture above of her. She was sitting on her father's lap and I noticed her exposed thigh. She had a series of large scars on her thigh going up into her hip area. One portion of the scar looked like a large and deep cut that had been crudely stitched together. Through Duang I asked if Fern had had hip surgery. I was suspecting that she had surgery for hip dysplasia. I was wrong - terribly wrong. Four months ago, the weather had got quite cool - cool for Thailand. Villagers had set up open wood fires outside of their homes to warm themselves before retiring for the night. Family members set up plastic chairs and sahts (woven mats) around the fire. Little Fern fell into the fire and was badly burned.

Taking her to the hospital would have cost $43 USD to $57 USD - beyond the means of her family. Fern's injury was cared for by three elderly people from the village using various balms on the burns.

The good news is the injury and scar have not affected Fern's ability to walk. She was fortunate. Not everyone is.

The reality of life in foreign countries is not always pleasant. The lack of opportunities and the cost of poverty has impact on innocent lives. So many things that people take for granted in the USA are beyond the grasp of many other people in foreign lands.

Living and experiencing life in other countries provides a different perspective and sense of reality. Sometimes it hurts.

Give Us Our Daily ...

Your last meal most likely involved no more effort than opening your refrigerator or cupboard, gathering the necessary ingredients, and cooking in the microwave, in the oven, or on the stove top. Perhaps you were fortunate and you went out to eat, out to eat at a fast food outlet, nice restaurant, or a friend's house. Like me, I am certain that your only concerns were what you were going to eat and there were no thoughts as to whether you would eat or not - just like we are all certain that we will have dinner tomorrow, next week, and any and everyday in the future.

The luxury of not worrying about availability of food is not shared by everyone in this world. It is not shared by all the people of Isaan, in particular this elderly woman outside Kumphawapi amongst the rice paddies northeast of town.

After our adventures at the sugar refinery south of Kumphawapi, I stomped the red dust from my running shoes and cleared my head of the smells of the area to head out to visit Duang's daughter. The air around the sugar refinery was filled with a fusion of the sweet scent of fermenting sugar and the stench of sugar fermentation gone bad (terribly bad) - very similar to smelly - very smelly feet.

We drove through town and saw the local monkeys returning from their wanderings about town to their homes in the local park. Some monkeys take the high road - traversing the town along the elevated electrical and telephone wires. I have gotten accustomed to driving through town and seeing a monkey suspended above the middle of the road on a wire.

Other monkeys stick to the low road - scampering along the roads and sidewalks back to the park. Often their journey takes them across the path of vagrant dogs but I have yet to see a dog versus monkey battle. I suspect that the dogs, or the ones that are still around, have learned not to mess with a monkey. Monkeys are mean little buggers!

A third group of monkeys, small juveniles were in the middle of transitioning from the low road to the high road. An adult monkey, I don't know if it was a male or female - I didn't think it was polite to stare especially as I was driving and I didn't want any locals to see me checking them out, was on a high wire about 10 feet from a concrete utility pole. The adult had stopped and was looking back at the pole where several juveniles were climbing the pole and get to the point where they would go out on the wire. I got the distinct impression that the adult was supervising and teaching the younger monkeys. Lesson #1 - DO NOT TOUCH TWO WIRES AT THE SAME TIME. Lesson #2 - DO NOT TOUCH TWO WIRES AT THE SAME TIME.

My body hair is called "koh ling" - Monkey hair in the Isaan dialect. Duang says that the local monkeys are my brothers but she stops joking when I stare at them and start talking to them. I have had a confrontation with one that was stealing groceries out of the back of our pickup truck in town. Neither one of us was backing down. When I was giving the monkey hell for taking stuff, the monkey dropped the bag of potato chips and gave me the "dumb*ss" look as much to say "What? Me? What are you talking about? I didn't do anything!". Our standoff was only resolved when Duang came to the monkey's aid and chased it off with a broom that she had grabbed from the nearby motorcycle shop.

We manged to clear the monkey migration with causing any damage or getting damaged and hit the country road out amongst the rice paddies. The time was approaching early evening so the light was great for photography - a time commonly referred to as the "Golden Hour". It is also a time when the workers are headed back to their homes by all kinds of transport with each mode of transportation seemingly slower than the other. If there were more vehicles it might be referred to as "Rush Hour" but no one really rushes.

I have become accustomed to sharing the road with all kinds of vehicles - great and small as well as all kinds of animals. The elephants are well behaved and always stick to their edge of the road but you don't see them very often. The cattle are not adept at sharing the road, often they just mosey on up the middle of the lane or completely across the entire road. Since this is a poor region, the cattle herds are never large - usually 10 to 15 head maximum. The water buffalo are like defecating armored vehicles - a metallic gun metal grey of rippling muscles. Fortunately their herds are even smaller than the cattle. Often the cattle or water buffaloes walk along trailing an approximate 12 foot length of rope from their nose. It makes for quite a sight.

Dogs like to sleep on the road. They appear to have the knack for getting out of the way - even if it is just in time. I have seen only two dead dogs on the road in a year. In Brasil I would see a new dead dog along the main highway every other day. New? Yes in addition to the previous dead dogs. The dead dogs in the middle of the road lanes did not remain recognizable for more than a day or two. However the dead dogs in the median were a study in the progressive decay of organic matter. I observed one for over two weeks - truly disgusting.

Hens, roosters, and chicks as well as ducks coexist with both the dogs as well as cars on the road. They seem to be a problem but always get out of the way with plenty of time.

I have even gotten use to the other vehicles on the road. I do not get upset, excited, or concerned about the numerous motorbikes driving the wrong way on the road - they usually stay in the breakdown lane. I am even used to cars approaching head on as they pass one, two, three or sometimes four slow vehicles travelling in the opposite direction. I have grown to expect the unexpected when I drive - I am seldom disappointed.

As bad as it may seem, it works out - most of the time. In Brasil we used to say there were no laws or rules concerning driving. Knowing that you didn't take things for granted - you were not relying on the other guy to be following the "law". Everyone followed the same lack of laws so there was a consistency that prevented accidents. In three years in Brasil, I saw about 8 car accidents.

In Thailand the people share the road more willingly. They are not as territorial as Americans. They realize and are convinced that with every one's cooperation three cars and perhaps three cars and a motorbike can share two lanes of the road. Everyone gives a little and down the road they may take a little and it all works out - especially for cars and trucks. If there were more westerns here driving the roads with the "This is my lane and I am keeping it" mentality there would undoubtedly be many more accidents here. Motorbike accidents are a problem - I believe it is because everyone expects them to give a whole lot more than other vehicles.

Anyhow we got to Duang's daughters home - actually her mother-in-law's home where she lives with her father-in-law, grandparents-in-law, one or two aunts and uncles that always seem to be around a little two year old niece.

As everyone was catching up on local and family gossip, often one and the same, I noticed a solitary woman walking and working in the dry rice paddy across the dirt road from the house. She was dressed in typical Isaan or Lao Loum clothing and seemed an interesting photographic study. Duang said that she was gathering "hoy" snails to eat. I left the group and got my camera out of the truck. I crossed the road and walked over to her.

The woman was carrying a black plastic bucket, a plastic shopping bag filled with "greens" which looked more like weeds to me, and a five foot long wood pole with a small scoop on the end. She had gathered the greens from the paddy and along the roadside. I am certain that these plants similar to the plants that Duang eats are part of her diet.

It has not rained here since the end of October so the land in most places are very dry. The farmers have started to drain mud puddles to flood their fields for the new rice crop. This is nothing new and Al Gore need not concern himself on this issue, at this time, and at this point in time. The monsoons will return as they always do and everything will be flooded - once again. However the harvested rice paddies are dry as a bone and appear to be barren except for the stubble and weeds remaining from the harvest. As I walked the paddy in and amongst the deposits from free range cattle, I saw many mounds of dried mud.

These mounds were spiral cones of dried light colored clay fines with a small hole in the center - it reminded me of an upside down pastry coronet. The elderly woman would walk around and find one of these. She would stop and use the pole tool to dig the area beneath the coronet. After digging down about 18 to 24 inches she got on her hands and knees to finish the excavation with her hands. Many times she found nothing in the dry hole. But sometimes she found what she was after - "bpoo" (crab).

I know that they were crabs because she showed them to me as she pulled them out of the parched ground. She also showed me the very lively 12 crabs that she had in her bucket. Somethings I can not explain. I only report and write about what I have seen. Fortunately I have not seen or thought that I have seen any Phii (ghosts) so I do not have to defend my credibility on that issue - yet. However I can not explain how or why there are what looks like small saltwater crabs that I used to catch at the local beach back in Connecticut here in Isaan - 350 to 400 miles from the sea!!. I can not explain how these crabs can be pulled out of a 1.5 to 2 foot deep hole in completely dry dirt where it has not rained in 3 months. The rice paddy has been dry for at least a month. All I know is what I saw.

Lao people are very fond of a green papya salad called "Pauk Pauk". A component of Pauk Pauk is a couple of whole small cooked crabs - small as in about 2 inches across. These whole crabs, shell and all, are tossed in and pounded with a mortar and pestle along with the other ingredients. I was first introduced to this dish in Pattaya which is on the ocean and assumed that the crabs were saltwater crabs. I have seen the crabs in the local market and assumed that the crabs like the squid had been shipped up from the coast. Now I am wondering if the crabs were freshwater crabs all along. If I see or believe I see squid being caught in the local lakes and rivers I am going to be in need of some very serious professional health!

I talked a little with the woman but she didn't say much. It may or may not have been my command of the Thai language but a definite contributing factor to her silence was the fact that her mouth was filled with the various accoutrements for betel nut chewing. One time when she smiled, I got a view - I sight that I would have preferred not to have seen!

I returned to the group and got some further information from Duang about the elderly woman. She is a poor woman who wanders the roads and paddies each day gathering her food. She does not own the land that she scavenges. No body complains that she is digging on their land to harvest "their" crabs. I told Duang that in America you can not go on to other people's property to gather food without them complaining or perhaps calling the police.

Apparently here in Isaan, Lao Loum people do not want to deny anyone their daily bread even if it happens to be greens and crabs off of their own land.

Trucking, Keeping on Trucking

Yesterday, Friday 30 January 2009 was another great day here in Isaan. Although we had not planned anything special for the day, the day became memorable for several reasons.

After we did our grocery shopping, we drove out to Tahsang Village to visit family and to deliver the "Kwan" DVD. As we arrived at the village, Kwan was outside as usual with her grandmother and two other relatives. We had gotten there in time for her bath. Her grandfather brought out a black plastic tub of water that had been left out into the sun to warm and placed it on the wooden platform that serves as Kwan's playpen as well as community center. Kwan thoroughly enjoyed her short bath.

Kwan's bath and our visit brought out many villagers. Duang had purchased some fast food in Kumphawapi so in no time at all there were 5 other people sitting around eating and socializing. "Fast food" in Kumphawapi is food such as chicken noodle soup, fried rice, and such that is for sale from a "restaurant" on the sidewalk. The food is very good and very cheap. It is take -away food - take away in small plastic bags.

After everyone had finished eating, including Kwan, we viewed the DVD at Duang's parents house. Kwan's reaction made the entire effort well worth while. She recognized herself and went crazy over the music. She sat cross legged on the tile floor and danced by bouncing up and down in sync with the music - one English song and two Lao songs. At one point she stood up on her own without any additional support and squatted up and down three times to the beat before a big squat on her bottom to the floor. She is just learning to stand and is apparently ready for a quantum leap to dancing.

Duang's sixteen year old cousin who is a local dancing machine dropped by just as the big local song was playing. The song is about eating snails "Hoy" but "Hoy" is also a term to refer to part of the female anatomy (kind of like oyster or clam in English). Isaan entertainment tends to be rather bawdy and the popularity of this song is a testament to the fact. The song is kind of like "Louie Louie" - when it is played the party really begins!

Anyhow, I put on my ski toque from my last trip to Yellowsone in January 2006 and showed Duang's cousin some of my latest Isaan dance moves - bouncing up and down while alternating rapid stomps with each leg. The knitted hat is part of the Isaan dress code for men and women in Isaan and the dance moves are what the young people do to hard driving songs such as "Hee Hoy". We all had a good laugh especially when we noticed Kwan sitting on the floor moving her legs in imitation.

After our visit, we headed back to Kumphawapi to visit Duang's daughter. As we drove along the heavily rutted roads, we passed many heavily laden trucks hauling harvested sugar cane to the local sugar refinery on the edge of Kumphawapi. Somewhat similar to the "Good Ol Boys" of the USA with their gun racks in their pickup trucks, I typically carry my backpack of camera gear on our forays out into the countryside. Yesterday was no exception.

I pulled into the large flat staging area just outside of the refinery. The large field was about 50% filled with trucks loaded with sugar cane. Along the edge of the road headed into Kumphawapi, people had set up booths selling fruit, drinks, and prepared food to the truckers.

I have written before about the sugar cane harvest and the trucks clogging up as well as destroying the local roads. This blog has a picture of a typical rig. When the trucks arrive at the staging area of the refinery, they log in and wait their turn to enter and discharge their cargo. I had seen this before in Brasil in conjunction with the soybean harvest and shipping port of Paranagua. During the height of the soybean harvest, on a trip to the port, I saw 22 km (12 miles) of loaded trucks parked bumper to bumper alongside the road from the port, through town and up into the mountains awaiting their turn to be offloaded. I was told that the drivers had to wait up to 5 days for their turn. It is the same here at the staging yard - sit and wait. The men sleep in their trucks just like in Brasil.

The staging yard for the sugar cane trucks was covered in about 5 cm (2 inches) of an extremely fine iron rust red powder. The main path through the yard had been watered down in a vain attempt at dust control. Near the guardhouse/tally office of the yard, some truckers were sitting around drinking - soft drinks, and tea.

I ended up going over to photograph them and talk to them - mostly through Duang. They were very friendly - most likely happy for someone new to talk to. I suspect that had already heard each other's stories several times. I found out later from Duang that they had been waiting three days. They wanted her to talk to me about me buying the refinery. They had been waiting three days because the refinery is owned and managed by Chinese people. We had Chinese new Year at the beginning of the week so the refinery had not been functioning well. They believe that falang owner would do a better job.

I took photos of them relaxing and joking. One man wanted to be sure that I got his photo with his mustache - or rather his Isaan facsimile of a mustache. Lao Loum men are not very hairy. His mustache was a few straggly wisps of hair sort of like Genghis Khan. Earlier he had touched my hairy arms. I tried to get 5 baht from him for the privilege but he knew I was only joking. I do that all the time now - no point in getting upset over invasion of my space or privacy - they mean no harm. When people come up and touch the hair on my arms I ask for 5 baht and then tell them that touching the hair on other places of my body will cost them more. Since I have a smile on my face and a twinkle in my eye, they quickly realize that I am only joking. From that point I get to take their photographs with them thoroughly relaxed.

I got even with Mr Mustache yesterday. After he ran his fingers over the few hairs to straighten it out, I set up to take the shot, stopped looked at my camera, looked at the front of the lens, walked up to within 12 inches of him and squinted at his mustache - his buddies went crazy laughing! He laughed too.

The men said that the harvest will last two more months. I asked if they were going to fix the roads when they were done. I mentioned that the local politician said the road would be fixed in four months. One of the drivers told me that I could go report bad roads to the police.

I told him my limited Thai that I didn't like the police - police see me and they want 200 Baht (typical fine for any number of driving offenses - real or imagined). I told them that police like to drink beer. When they drink beer each time they drink a new bottle they say "Thank you foreigner". The truckers roared. They enjoyed the joke completely.

It was time for us to move on. We had miles, I mean kilometers to go, before we sleep. The truckers invited us back.

We went on to visit Duang's daughter and another surprise - a woman was in the rice paddy looking for ... the subject of the next blog