Latest Photo Gallery Available to View

There is a new gallery available for viewing on my photo web site.

The gallery documents the harvesting of this year's rice crop in Isaan, specifically in the proximity of Tahsang Village in Udon Thani Province - about 60 miles south of the Laos.

http://www.hale-worldphotography.com/Other/Isaan-Rice-Harvest-November/10400150_dVMc7/1/720440584_iJYty

Threshing Rice Outside Tahsang Village

On Friday morning we drove out to Tahsang Village for a couple of reasons. Duang's daughter and her husband were still busy with harvesting the rice from the family paddy so we had the chance to care for Peelawat. Secondly, some of Duang's 93 cousins were going to be threshing their harvested rice just outside of Tahsang Village so there would be photography opportunities for me to take advantage of.

On our extended visits to Tahsang Village, I bring my camera gear as well as my laptop computer. While Peelawat sleeps I use the computer to organize and edit photographs. Lately I have been waiting until around 2:00 P.M. to go out to the fields to commence photographing. I find the lower light of the late afternoon more conducive to photographing the workers and harvested rice. The late afternoon sun gives an overall golden hue to the scenery.

On Friday afternoon when we was going out to photograph the threshing operation nearby, Peelawat was awake so we decided to take him with us. It was a bright and hot afternoon so we attempted to shield him with a large hat. Peelawat would not cooperate and kept brushing the hat off of his head. Fortunately near where the work was going on there was a typical rest platform. Rest platforms are scattered about the fields and provide some protection for the workers from the sun. The platforms have either a thatched or corrugated (usually rusty) metal roof. Workers eat their meals underneath the roofs and sometimes take a nap in the middle of the day to deal with the heat of the day. This was a good place for Duang and Peelawat to sit while I went about the field. Peelawat watched me the entire time.

The rice in the paddy had been cut and bundled into sheaves previously. A very large mound of rice sheaves had been created in one corner of the complex of paddies. The mound had been built up upon a very large blue mat of very fine mesh plastic netting. The netting captures the rice kernels that fall from the stalks due to handling. The threshing machine is also set up to ensure that the loss of product is minimized. There were also many sheaves of rice stalks scatter throughout the paddies. The first task of the day was to gather up, transport the scattered sheaves, and add them to the large mound. The workers set about gathering the sheaves and piling them into a wagon pulled by an "iron buffalo". The workers were in fine spirits, singing to the Mahlam Lao music that blared across the paddies from a portable radio that they had placed on the ground - UNTIL - until one of the cousins backed up the rice laden wagon over the top of the radio. The last song abruptly terminated with a large scrunching sound.

After awhile the threshing machine arrived. It was the same machine and operator that I had photographed a year ago at another cousin's field.

The machine was set up on the blue netting and the crew began feeding the sheaves into the middle of the machine. Dust and straw was forcibly ejected from a chute at the other side of the threshing drum. Additional debris was ejected from a screw conveyor beneath the drum at the same side as the straw ejection chute. Rice kernels left the machine at the back end in a heavy stream.. The rice was collected into 50 kilogram bags. As the bags were quickly filled, they were carried away to a storage area where their tops were closed and tied off with thin strips of bamboo.


We spent about an hour and one-half there before returning Peelawat back to his home. The little guy had done well on his first photo shoot in the field.

Isaan Rice Harvest - 14 and 15 November 2009

Undaunted by the previous, Friday 13th, day's adventures and motivated by the opportunity to spend some more time with 9 month old Peelawat, we returned to Tahsang Village on Saturday and Sunday to contribute to the harvesting of the family's rice crop.

On Saturday and Sunday the crop that was planted in July just outside of Tahsang Village was being cut. This field does not have red ants so I was looking forward to spending a great deal of time documenting and observing the activities there.

Duang splits her time between caring for Peelawat and cutting rice. Duang's daughter and Duang's mother have been sick so extra help is required to look after the nine month old baby. Saturday ended up being a "baby care" day. Duang's daughter was feeling well enough so she spent the day cutting rice. However, Duang's mother was still not feeling well. She had been to the hospital two days earlier with gastro-intestinal distress. On Saturday she was still rather weak. No problem - her youngest son came over to take care of her.

"Number 4", as he is referred to as since he is the youngest of four children arrived in Tahasang Village with an IV bottle and assorted items related to infusion. He is not a doctor. He is not a EMT. He is not a nurse. He is an entertainer. Apparently anyone with the money can buy IV materials for home personal use or on willing subjects. I was astounded. The IV bottle was made out of glass and contained a yellow liquid. I tried to read the ingredients but the writing was all in Thai. The bottle as well as contents looked identical to what I had seen being used on patients in the hospital.

A saht, a woven reed mat, was placed on the tile floor of the family market for Duang's mother to lay on. Polyethylene packaging twine was used to suspend the IV bottle from a wire that ran from a column to the exterior wall of the room. Duang's brother declined to use my belt as a tourniquet on his mother's arm to help bring up a vein (I had seen a belt used in many films where people were shooting up - wrapping around the upper arm and using their teeth to maintain tension around the arm). Instead he used several rubber bands to create an elastic band to tie around her arm. I was impressed with his knowledge and skill up to this point. He had flooded the IV tubing, installed a vent in the IV bottle, evacuated the air out of the tubing and run some liquid out of the needle. Now it was time to insert the needle into a vein. Finding the vein and inserting the needle proved to be more difficult. Eventually the process was successfully completed. Momma layed quietly on the saht for the afternoon.

Once Momma was settled in with her IV, our attention focused upon Peelawat. He had been sleeping in his hammock on the opposite side of the room and woke up as the set up of Momma's IV was completed. After he woke up completely and got accustomed to everyone, Duang decided that it was time for his bath. Since it was a hot and sunny day, Duang took a small plastic tub outside to the backyard to bathe Peelawat. She filled the tub with water from a hose and used the hose to rinse him off. Peelawat enjoyed his bath even though the water was not heated.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent working on the computer to edit photographs and playing with Peelawat.

On Sunday we spent most of our time out in the rice fields. I shot photographs in the morning and then the late afternoon to take advantage of the better light.

It was hot and humid all day long. I had left Duang back in the village to take care of Peelawat. After photographing the family at work in the fields, I took a walk towards the sun. I walked towards the sun for two reasons - I wanted the setting sun at my back to photograph the workers and there several groups of other workers in that direction. Walking over towards the other workers was rather difficult. The recessed paddies were filled with dry stalks of rice either vertical or laying almost flat. Out of respect for the farmers I did not want to trample over the unharvested rice. That left me the option of walking along the tops of the berms around the perimeters of the paddy. The raised area along the paddies are now overgrown with 4 months of unabated weeds. To make matters even more difficult, the berms are periodically cut by narrow trenches - perfect ankle twisters and ankle busters. The overgrown vegetation pretty much camouflages them. I had also watched a program the previous night about people getting bitten by cobras. I pretty much convinced myself that no snake would hang around the dry rice paddies so I cautiously plodded along.

I spent about 2 hours on this trek, stopping to photograph interesting scenes and stopping to rest as well as await the sun to get lower on the horizon. It was extremely hot and I sweated a great deal. I sweated so profusely that my fingertips became wrinkled as if I had stayed in a bath too long. Midway into my solo journey, I thought that I heard Duang's voice. I was too far to see her even if the rice had not hidden her. After deciding to return to the family, I had some good fortune - I found a piece of aged bamboo - a perfect walking stick. With the use of my walking stick, my walk back was much easier and less intimidating. When I got back to the starting point, Duang was there cutting rice. She had correctly surmised that I was going to be thirsty and had a can of Pepsi along with a glass of ice awaiting me. I have to admit that it was the best Pepsi that I have had in my life. The best Coke is a fountain drink at O Sanctuario outside the entrance to Machu Picchu but the best Pepsi is in a can out in an Isaan parched rice paddy.

Rice Harvest Season - 2009

The rains have ceased for about a month now. The rainy season is over and will return in late May.

The rice that was planted in Late July is now ready to be harvested from the parched paddies. A month without rain has converted the muddy paddies into hard compacted deeply cracked plots of land - the legacy of the clay composition of the soil. With the continued heat and humidity along with the brilliant sunshine the rice crop has matured quite well. Unfortunately for some people, there have been a couple of windy days recently. The effect of the wind on the heavily headed stalks of rice in many areas was to lay the rice over. Instead of standing about 3.5 feet high above the cracked soil, the rice has been laid over to be only about 1-1/2 feet off and roughly parallel to the ground. The lower height requires the workers to bend over further every time to pick up the stalks prior to cutting them.

The free market is in effect here in Isaan. In July, the cost to hire a worker to plant the rice was 150 baht a day - $4.53 USD. This was higher than the garlic harvesters were making near the Burma border in April. They made 100 baht of a day. Well now the price for rice harvesters from a nearby village to Tahsang Village is 250 baht a day - $7.55 USD. This was more than Duang's daughter wanted or could afford to pay to harvest the family rice. It had been decided that the family would harvest the crop themselves.

Everyone in the family had their duties and responsibilities related to the harvest. Duang's mother would remain at home and care for Peelawat who is 9 months old now while Duang's daughter and son-in-law harvested rice. Duang would cut rice. I was to photograph the harvest and help care for Peelawat. One condition of my retirement visa in Thailand is that I can not work. Helping the family harvest could be viewed as working so I was not going to be cutting rice. I did try it out for about 10 minutes but ran into problems. Duang's son and his girlfriend would cut rice after finishing their school for the day. Duang's youngest brother could not cut on Friday but he would come out on Saturday to do his part.

The weather had gotten a little cooler here until Friday when it was back to a high of 90 to 95F. We ended up driving out to a paddy that I was not familiar with. It turned out to be Duang's brother's paddy. We arrived about 8:30 in the morning and the workers set out cutting the rice immediately. I set up my camera bag on a raised platform along side of the paddy and next to a tethered water buffalo. I noticed that there were quite a few large red ants on the platform. These were the same type of ants that people added to their fish to eat on New Year's Eve - the ants with an aggressive attitude and strong bite.

After about 2-1/2 hours, the sun had gotten to me along with the red ants. Even when I was in amongst the rice stalks the ants were able to find me. Out in the bright sun in 95F heat with sweat running all over my body, I would get a sharp bite typically in a wet crease in my body. It wasn't long before I was fairly miserable. Duang told me to go back home and she would have her son bring her home later.

She was going to ride the motorbike out of the field to lead me to the main road back to Udonthani. She didn't move fast enough so I drove off om my own, determined to get home as quickly as possible. I surprised myself by using the Sun and dead reckoning to get back to the main road in Kumphawapi with no problem at all. I decided to take an alternative route to travel from Kumphawapi to Udonthani. I had traveled that route several times previously and believed that it would be more scenic than the customary route.

After awhile the alternative route turned into a construction zone - the road was being reconstructed. In Isaan, roadwork is a much more informal process than in the USA. Warning signs are usually set up right at the work sight - No, I have not misspelled the word, you sight the work site as you sight the sign. There is very little advance warning. There are no formal or as I suspect "trained" flagmen. Sometimes one of the workers will take a little time from his primary duties and wave cars along. In general, opposing traffic is left to themselves to sort out who proceeds and who waits. It all seems to work out but it is stressful.

I managed to navigate through the construction maze without incident when I noticed some opposing vehicles flashing their headlights - the warning signal for a police roadblock up ahead. Police roadblocks are quite common in Isaan. Police often stop cars to check for registration, proof of insurance, driver's license, and alleged violations. I have been waiting to be stopped for awhile. The new truck does not have registration plates yet. Sure enough I was flagged over to the side and approached by a policeman. I rolled down the window and he introduced himself and said a whole bunch of things that I had no idea what he was saying. I suspected that it had something to do with no plates so I told him in Thai "Loat Mai" (New Truck). I gave him the paper from the dealer and that seemed to work. He said some more so I figured it had to to do with insurance, so I pulled the paperwork out for the insurance coverage. He seemed satisfied with that but said some more. I figured that it had to do with my driver's license so I gave him that. Another higher ranking officer came by and looked at the front of the truck. The officer dealing with me told him "Loat mai" so I figured there was no problem with that. He then kept talking to me but I had no idea what it was about. I was at a loss. I pulled out my cellphone and called Duang for help. I told her what was going on and handed the policeman the phone. They had a casual friendly conversation so I figured that I was not headed to jail. He gave me back the phone and Duang was laughing. She said that the Policeman was hot and thirsty so give him 100 baht ($3.00 USD). I gladly helped him out, shook his hand for the third or fourth time and went on my way.

When Duang got home later in the day, she told me that Buddha had complained about me. I had not waited for her, so Buddha punished me for not listening to her. I have been with her long enough and have had enough experiences with her that I would not categorically deny or argue with her assertion.

That was how I spent Friday 13th here in Isaan.

"Doctor" Feel Good and the Wheels of God

Remembering back to English class in Groton Connecticut many years ago, I have always fondly remembered a essay or a short story by John Galsworthy the theme of which was "The wheels of God grind slowly but exceedingly small" The premise is that you may get away with something bad for awhile, perhaps even a long while, but eventually God or Justice will catch up to you and you will receive what you deserve. The quote is actually from a German named "Von Logau" and was translated into a poem written by Longfellow. I guess that stands pretty well as testament to the power of Von Logau's original words that two well known authors would later use them in their own works.

It is also interesting how these undoubtedly Christian inspired words and thought so closely parallel as well as reflect the Buddhist concept of "Kharma" - What goes around , comes around.

So what does this have to do with living in Isaan? Actually it has a great deal to do with something that I had previously written about in Mid-October - "Doctor" Feel Good. On October 14th I had written about "Doctor" Feel Good - the man who was performing wondrous things for the health of Lao Loum peasants from his home out in the middle of the rice paddies. He was giving injections to everyone who came to his home. I had gone with a sprained or bruised foot and had great difficulty walking. When he gave an injection of Valium to Duang's cousin who has epilepsy but he had diagnosed with a "bad heart" after listening to her chest and neck, I decided that this was not the "Doctor" for me or for my wife.

The villagers and family members that we had taken with us to see the "Doctor" all had a good laugh at the "Falang", foreigner who was afraid of the "Doctor" who had made them all "better". They all had a good laugh until they all nodded off to sleep on the way back to the village. Over the past month my foot finally got better on its own but I still got teased about how long it took because I didn't let the "Doctor" take care of it. Along with the teasing we heard additional stories of all the people he had helped to "feel better".

This morning we got a phone call from Duang's daughter. She had gone to see the "Doctor" this morning but he was gone. The police had come to complain (charge? arrest? him for what he was doing). The man fled and is apparently hiding out and but still "helping" people from some house further out in the rice paddies. According to Duang's daughter, he will stay hidden for about 7 to 10 days before returning home to resume his "good work". I guess he figures that the police will have forgotten about him during that period of time.

Duang's daughter was laughing and jokingly insinuated that I had called the police about him. That is not true. I am a guest in Thailand and do not want to cause or create problems for anyone.

Just as the wheels of God had finally ground small enough to get to "Doctor" Feel Good or perhaps Kharma had done in the "Doctor", I do not want to bring or create any cause for me to be in the same situation.

Tomorrow, we are off to harvest rice - the family rice that was planted back in July. It should be interesting. Just in time for the harvest the temperatures are up again to 95F (35C).

We had passed on the road trip last week with Duang's brother and his band to Chiang Rai, so tomorrow's harvest will be my first photography effort in awhile.

A Hidden Treasure - "Museum of the Plains Indian"

In 2002, I had the privilege and great fortune of working in Calgary, Alberta for a project that was being engineered and procured in Canada. Calgary is a beautiful and vibrant city. I thoroughly enjoyed the months that was there during the first engineering phase of the project. Later in 2003, I would spend several just as enjoyable extended business trips there as engineering was completed.

Besides the attractions in Calgary itself, Calgary is a great starting point to access other areas such as Banff National Park, Jasper National Park, Waterton Peace Park, and with reentry back into the USA - Glacier National Park.

I took full advantage of the Canadian holidays to take trips to all of the aforementioned attractions. As I was alone most of the time, I first visited them by myself and later once or twice again when my wife, at the time, visited me.

It was during a visit to Glacier National Park that we discovered a hidden treasure - Museum of the Plains Indian in Browning, Montana.



It has been written and said that "You can judge a society by ... " "the way it treats its young", "by the way it treats its prisoners", "by the way it treats its less fortunate", and "by the way it treats its elderly" It is my belief and I would like to add "You can judge a society by its art".

Nowhere that I have traveled throughout the world is this more apparent and appropriate than at the "Museum of the Plains Indian". The museum is located at the intersection of Highway 2 and Highway 89 on the Blackfeet Reservation in Browning, Montana. Browning Montana is east of Glacier National Park. We had come upon it when we were traveling south from Waterton, Alberta on our way to East Glacier Park Village. We had been traveling for a while and the weather was not all that conducive to photography when I saw a rather nondescript simple two story brick building. The building looked very much like a small High School for the 1940s but had a large sign identifying it as a museum.

It turns out the the museum had been created in 1941. Inside there are permanent displays of native American art and handicrafts. Works from the Blackfeet,Sioux, Cree, Crow, Shoshone, Nez Perce, Northern Cheyenne, and Chippewa peoples are represented in the displays. Displayed items include clothing, toys, weapons, horse gear, and household items. In addition the permanent articles on display there temporary arts and crafts by Native Americans.





The articles are fantastic examples of the art and culture of the Plains Indian societies. The bead work is meticulous and very colorful undoubtedly reflecting the complexity and structure of its associated society. The artwork even in common mundane articles of daily life give testament to the sophistication of the Plains peoples. Upon viewing the exhibits all preconceived notions regarding the Native American culture are quickly and forever dispelled. Any society that is able and willing to invest the time as well as resources into such sophisticated expressions of beauty can not be considered savage. In the 1800's, as it is today, it seems "de rigeur" to characterise your adversaries as sub-human and simplify their culture to be no more than brutal savagery. Quite often the reaality is that the adversary's culture is as sophisticated and valid as the proponent's.

We thoroughly enjoyed the Museum of the Plains Indian for many reasons. Besides the numerous works of art and handicrafts, the museum has not been updated to be politically correct. The works speak for themselves and the open minded visitor is left to draw their own conclusions regarding the work and the artisans that created the works. Browning Montana is off the beaten path so the museum was not crowded whats so ever during our visit. We may have encountered 6 other visitors during our one hour stay at the museum. The museum is also very cheap to visit - current prices are $4.00 per adult and $1.00 per child during June to September. However, admission is free from October to May.

I would enjoy returning to the museum given the opportunity - I have a digital camera now so the photographs of the glass encased articles would be better than these scanned slides. Sounds like a good enough reason to return ...

The "Blue Mosque" of Malaysia

While working in Malaysia, I took advantage of local holidays, along with Sundays to get and about to see the country. One memorable trip was to visit the capital city of Kuala Lumpur. In addition to visiting the sights in the city, we made excursions to the surrounding areas.

We drove south west of KL to the Malaysian state of Selangor Darul Ehasan. In the capital city of Selangor, Shah Alam, is the magnificent Sultan Salahuddin Abdul Aziz Shah Mosque commonly and widely referred to as "The Blue Mosque"


The Blue Mosque is a modern structure which was completed on March 11, 1988 after 6 years of construction. The minarets of the mosque are 460 feet tall making them the second tallest in the world. They had been the tallest in the world for a period of time, but a mosque in Morocco has now eclipsed them for the title as well as national glory.



The dome is 170 feet in diameter and 350 feet tall at its apex. The dome is built using ceramic glazed aluminum panels. The use of paintings and pictures for decoration is not allowed so the dome is covered and decorated with geometric patterns and Arabic calligraphy of the verses from the Holy Quran (Koran). I have read that the mosque has the capacity for 16,000 and 24,000 worshippers. I don't know. At the time that we went there, there were no worshippers. Because we were not Muslims we were not allowed inside so that I could have made a personal estimate of the capacity. There are some days when non-Muslims are allowed inside but our day was not one of them.



The mosque complex also has a park called the Garden of Islamic Arts which is inspired by the Quran's Garden of Paradise. It was a very peaceful and beautiful park with many flowers and plants. In the park we encountered many families with small children.



Although the weather was very hot as well as humid, our visit to the Blue Mosque was a very good experience as well as inspiring and well worth any temporary discomfort.

Snack Time In Tahsang Village

Yesterday, Tuesday, we drove out to Tahsang Village to visit with the family.

The day before I had baked a pineapple upside down cake for Duang's son's birthday so we were bringing some of it to the village to share with some of the village children - especially Peelawat and Kwan.

Duang drove the new truck part of the way and did very well - much to my relief.
We arrived in Tahsang Village to find life going on just as it does every day. Various women and children were sitting on the raised wood platform with a thatched roof. While the women were busy talking and tending to the children, the children were busy playing with whatever they could get their hands on - empty plastic bottles, containers of powder, and plastic bags. There are not many toys available to village children.

We broke out the cake and the children including 8 month old Peelawat quickly devoured it. At about that time, Duang's oldest brother came by with his food cart.

Throughout Isaan, you will see food carts. Some food carts are pushcarts. Many of the food carts are side cars attached to motorcycles. Duang's brother has a typical side car food cart. He has a cart that has a small propane gas bottle and burner, unrefrigerated food case, a small ice chest, and a tray of various soda bottles along with plastic bags along with bamboo skewers. Sometimes he will also have a pot of soup or some other prepared food.


In the food case he had hot dogs, along with various meat based dumplings and turnovers. In Isaan the hot dogs are deep fried rather than boiled or grilled. The meat snacks are put on bamboo skewers placed in small plastic bags along with shredded raw cabbage to be eaten with chili sauce. To wash down the food, he sells small plastic cups of soda with ice from his ice chest. Duang bought food and drinks for everyone - 80 baht - $2.14 USD - a small price to pay to be able to photograph some of my favorite "models" - Fheng, Kwan, Mai, and Peelawat.

Most people in Isaan do not have photographs of themselves as children or photographs of their children. They have not been able to afford the luxury of photographs. This is quite different from my personal experience. I have many fond memories of going through my family album and listening to the stories from my parents related to the photographs. The album was filled with pictures from my parent's childhoods as well as my and my sister's early days. Duang does not have any photographs of her childhood and I have a sense of loss for her.



I know that I can not change the past but I believe that I can make the present a little better for some people in that regard. I enjoy taking photographs of the village children and then giving some prints to their parents.

It is not my intention to change Isaan to be like the America of my childhood. I only want to provide some joy in a small way to some people in thanks for all the joy that I have experienced here.

New Truck Blessing

We were up at 5:30 A.M. this morning in order to get out to the Wat near Tahsang Village in time to offer food to the Monks. After making merit, our truck was going to be blessed by one of the senior Monks.

On our way out to the village we stopped in Kumphawapi to buy some ready made food from the morning market. We then stopped at Duang's mother's house so that she could join us. Today was a holiday so the roads were not very crowded. Despite it being a holiday, the fields were busy. Farmers were busy harvesting sugar cane, preparing the harvested fields, and planting cassava in the former sugar cane fields. The sugar cane harvest has just started and is limited to small trucks - so far. Later in the harvest which will run well into the new year, large tandem trucks will take over hauling the harvested cane to the large sugar refineries.

Today we drove out to a Wat that I had not been to before. This Wat was set out in the middle of the sugar cane fields towards the flood plain. Duang said that it was very old and had been there for 100 years. As we drove along the dusty dirt road towards the Wat, we came upon a road crew. Local villagers - men, women and children were busy trimming the heavy vegetation from the side of the road and were busy - very busy filling in some of the many ruts in the road. Later men were in the trees cutting off branches. Some red, white and blue pennant flagging nothing to do with any delayed 4th of July celebration, they are also Thailand's national colors)lined parts of the narrow road to the Wat. Later I found out from Duang that the next day, representatives from one of the local bus companies were going out to the Wat to present a check to the Abbot to help support the Wat.

The Wat was very primitive but very impressive. It's beauty was in its simplicity. The grounds were very well maintained and filled with trees, flowers, and plants. The buildings were plain wood and cement block. Situated throughout the grounds were wood cages with various types of birds in them. Some of the birds may have been talking birds but I couldn't really tell - they may have been speaking Lao but don't know it well enough to distinguish it from normal bird squawking.

The entire grounds had been swept with brooms. It was more of a nature preserve than a Wat. It was very peaceful.

Some women were preparing the offerings of food for the Monks. Duang gave them our offerings and she went to a smaller building where there a senior Monk. he appeared to be the Abbot. Two other women were there to make merit. The elderly Monk was quite a sociable person. He talked and talked. It was obvious to me that it was small talk rather than any spiritual lecture or dissertation. Later it all made sense to me - the Monk's last name was Veeboonkul - Duang's family name. The Abbot was one of her many uncles! I often tease her about how many relatives that she has around here - today she had the joke on me! This also explained why her mother accompanied us out to the Wat.



















After the Monk finally finished with the normal merit making ritual, he started the ritual to bless our new truck. Once again the ritual was more of an incorporation of Animist beliefs and practices than a true Buddhist ceremony. After having me open the truck front doors, the Monk walked around the truck counter clockwise while carrying a small plate with thin yellow candles on it, an amulet that we had received before from another Monk, and a small statue of some sacred religious person, a Buddhist ornament that we had purchased at a "special" Wat in anticipation of having a vehicle, small laurel type leaves, and some money on it. He also had a hunk of cotton rope with him. As he walked around the truck he was very carefully checking out the vehicle almost to the point of giving the truck the "evil eye".



Upon completing his circumambulation of the truck, Duang's Uncle climbed in and sat behind the wheel. He seemed to be imitating driving the truck as he was chanting so softly that I could not hear him. Upon completing his incantations, the Monk took the cotton rope and wrapped it around the steering column at the bas where it penetrates the firewall. At this point, the ritual hit a technical snag. The cotton rope was not long enough to tie around the steering column. As much as he tried, he could not bind the strings together. He called out to one of his lay assistants who rummaged through the small building before he finally came to the truck with some colored cotton strings that are used for Bai Saii rituals (binding the 32 spirits inside a person's body to ensure good luck and health). These strings did the job just fine - completing the loop and binding the spirits of the truck. I was busy photographing and filming the ritual.

The Monk then honked the horn of the truck three sets of three distinct and LOUD honks - completely taking me by surprise - much to Duang's amusement. Having scared the bajeepers out of me and most likely the spirits, the Monk pulled out a magic marker and drew three symbols on the steering wheel hub. He then focused on the headliner above the driver's seat. He seemed to be either praying or meditating as he drew a complex graphic on the roof above the driver's seat. I had seen this done before but the Monks had used a chalk paste. I surmise that Magic Marker is a concession to modern times and an effort at greater permanence. The Monk hung the two flower garlands that Duang had purchased from the Kumphawapi Market from the truck's rear view mirror. Having completed with the vehicle's interior, the Monk exited the truck and had Duang, Duang's mother, and me kneel on the ground in front of the truck. He grabbed a fairly large bucket of water along with a coarse reed brush. He circumambulated the truck three times sprinkling the truck as well as us with the water from the bucket using the coarse brush.

The ritual was now completed and the truck had been properly prepared for our use.

Back at Duang's mother's home, Duang glued the statue, amulet, and Buddhist ornament to the dashboard to ensure that the protection continues.

Buying A Truck In Thailand - Part 2

Over two month's ago, we ordered and placed a deposit for a new Toyota pick up truck.

Over a month ago we got a call from the dealer that we could have the truck with a 2500 cc engine in a couple days but for the actual truck that we ordered with a 3000 cc engine it would be another month. Duang's relative, the salesman, told her that people were only ordering the model with the smaller engine. It made no difference to me and I continued to want the truck that we ordered. When I did not understand the answers to the questions that I asked I decided to take matters into my own hands. Using the Internet, I found the phone number of the Toyota factory in Bangkok and called them last Friday. The customer representative took down all the information and promised to call either that afternoon or on the following Monday. The good news from my call was that he confirmed that the factory was producing the exact model that we wanted.

Yesterday afternoon, Wednesday, when the Toyota Rep had not called me back yet, Duang suggested that I call him back. I told her that I would call the next morning because if I called in the afternoon, he would only say that he would have to check and call me back the next morning. My strategy was to call him early in the morning and ask that he check so that he could call me back in the afternoon.

Today, before I could call Bangkok, we got a call from Duang's cousin, the truck had arrived at the dealership early this morning. We arrived at the dealer up the road from our home at 8:45 A.M. I had to sign about 12 to 15 different documents. After signing the documents, Duang's cousin gave me a paper with Thai writing on it and a bank account number. We walked across the main road to a branch of our bank and arranged to transfer the remaining balance for the truck from my account into the dealer's account. We were given a document confirming the transfer by the bank to return to the dealer.

We returned to the dealer and awaited the preparation of the truck to be completed. Everything that we had been promised was completed without reminding or asking. We were shown the various aspects of the truck. The dealer gave us a voucher for 300 Baht (about $9.00) to purchase fuel for the truck. This amounted to about 10 liters (3 gallons). Duang's cousin came with us to ensure there were no problems. We had 1,300 baht of fuel added and paid the difference.

We needed extra fuel because we had to go to Tahsang Village, Duang's home village. Once we left the dealership we could not stop. We could not stop by our home to pick up a camera. We had to go straight to Tahsang Village.

There were certain rituals that needed and had to be performed to ensure the safety of the truck and most importantly - us. I have written about the Lao Loum people maintaining and following many of their pre-Buddhist beliefs and this was to be another example of following Animist practices. Our home had to be "blessed" in a Brahman ritual along with Buddhist participation. In addition we had to install spirit houses on the property to appease the spirit of the house and the spirit of the garden to appease them and ensure that our home would be a happy home.

Animist rituals and practices exist for cars, trucks, and motorcycles. Upon exiting the dealership, I had to honk the truck's horn three times - I assume to signify respect for Buddha, Buddhist teachings, and the Buddhist clergy. Our route home took us to the first of the roundabouts in Udonthani - the one with a statue of the founder of Udonthani in the center. This man is worshipped by many people and often people can be seen circumambulating the shrine or making offerings. I had to honk the horn three times as we passed.

Duang called ahead to her mother to let her know the good news. As we approached Tahsang Village, Duang told me to take a different route into the village. We took the first left at the edge of the village and drove along the perimeter of the village until we came upon Duang's mother standing along side of the road. We picked her up and drove onto some one's property and parked the truck. I was instructed to beep the horn again - three times. Duang and her mother, took a small metal plate, fresh leaves sort of like laurel leaves (Bay Leaf), small yellow candles, and a bottle of water with a straw in it and walked a short distance to a shrine. The shrine wa not a Buddhist shrine - there were no statues in them. The shrine was a spirit house - Animism. There were Pahn Sii Khwan, banana leaf and flower arrangements, and garlands along with remnants of previous offerings inside of the spirit houses. Duang and her mother made their offerings and said some prayers to the village spirits to let them know that we had a new truck and to request their blessing as well as protection for the vehicle and its occupants.

From there we drove into the village to Duang's mother's home to pick up Peelawat, our 8 month old grandson. He was coming along with us across the village to the "outside" Wat that is located amongst the sugar cane and rice alongside of the flood plain. Peelawat liked the new truck and enjoyed watching me driving along the heavily rutted dusty road through the sugar cane and rice to the Wat. Upon driving through the Wat's gate I had to ... honk three times.

Inside the Wat grounds, we walked over to where two young Monks were relaxing with friends. Duang and her mother made merit and offerings to the Monks. One Monk came with us and unlocked one of the shrines so that Duang and her mother could make offerings and make merit inside. Peelawat and I stayed outside to enjoy the beautiful day. The oldest Monk, about 25 years old, came over to bless the truck and all of us with water. He dipped a rough brush made out of coarse reeds into an elaborate pressed metal bowl of water, and then sprinkled the water over the truck and us using the rough brush. This was an acceptable temporary measure until tomorrow morning - Duang says that tomorrow morning we will leave at 6:00 A.M. to go to a near by village where two old Monks are well known for taking care of new vehicles. I have seen this before and I will bring my camera to share the ritual. They will be writing on the headliner of the cab with chalk paste, and tying cotton strings around the steering column to ensure that the spirits of the car are bound to the truck to ensure that it runs properly and safely. They will also honk the horn three times as part of the ritual. At the end of the ritual a Buddhist statue will be set on the dashboard.

We returned safely home and prior to driving into our driveway - ... I had to honk the horn three times for the last time of the day.

Living In the Margins

Sometimes life seems more exciting and rewarding when lived in the margins - the margins between what is generally perceived as "right" and "wrong", or "Good" and "bad" or even "acceptable" and "unacceptable". The boundary defined by the ying and the yang. The art and skill is to never cross over to what is truly unacceptable.

During my working career there were many times when I was living and working in the margin that exists between night and day. It was during the interlude between the silence of the night and the breaking of a new dawn, that thoughts seemed clearer and the senses heightened.

It was often working on a night shift that I appreciated the simplicity and relative silence that the night brought to life. Just as appreciated and welcomed were the sounds of awakening day. There is something about a sun rise - the promise and optimism of another day - a fresh tablet upon which nothing has been written and awaits the recording of new chronicles.

Photography can be the same. Some of the more interesting and provocative photographs are taken in the margins - the time when the sun is rising or setting.

These are from my trip to China - predawn photos - the time where the differences between night and day become apparent as well as accentuated.

The photos were taken in Yangshuo, China. I was standing on the highway bridge over the famous Li River. I had gotten up at 4:00 A.M. to be in position on the bridge for the sun rise. I was on the bridge with 14 other photographers that I was travelling with in late October. I picked my spot and set up the tripod in eager anticipation of the breaking dawn. Although it was chilly it was great to stand in the silence and then to hear the chickens, and dogs waking up to greet the new day. Soon after the animals awoke, people started to stir - first with raspy coughs, and then with the sounds of staring the kitchen fires to prepare the day's first meal. Soon fishing boats or rather fishing rafts with fishermen and cormorants appeared almost mystically out of the last wisps of darkness over the flat river.


One of my colleagues called out to me to join them at their location nearer to the end of the bridge. I politely declined at first but when pressed I became more adamant. It was then in the breaking light of a promising new dawn that I realized that I had travelled thousands of miles to take MY photographs and not someone elses!

Right or wrong - I had chosen to take my photographs, my way, from my selected location.

Just as I have during much of my life, I wanted to enjoy the opportunities of that morning as well all my mornings on my own terms. I was happy and content. I was prepared to live with the consequences of my decision.


It was in the margins of that day between the closing of the night and opening of the day that I realized and reaffirmed one of my core values. In the clarity of the margin, I was at peace.

Later in life the memory of that chilly experience would help guide me through other life altering decisions.

Second Book Has Been Published

Isaan Introspe...

A Falang's Insights...

By Allen A. Hale

Book Preview

My second book is now complete and available for review as well as purchase.

The new book is a series of narratives and 327 photographs documenting Lao Loum life and culture in the North East Thailand region referred to as "Isaan".

Learning from my first book, I have changed the size of the book and limited the number of pages to 200 to keep the cost down for those interested in purchasing their own copy.

Clicking on the above icon "Book Review" will take you directly to a site to review the book.

Allen

A Brasilian Paradise - Parati

"Oh! God, if there were a paradise on earth, it wouldn't be very far from here!" - Amerigo Vespucci upon seeing the coastal region of Brasil surrounding the colonial town of Parati.



During my first assignment in Brasil, I took the opportunity to visit Parati. Working in Brasil was a great experience. I often refer to Brsil as a civilized country - civilized in the sense that in the state of Parana where I worked there were 16 holidays per year. The holidays were a combination of federal, state and religious observances. To make matters even better many of the holidays occurred on either a Thursday or Tuesday. The Brasilians typically converted these holidays into 4 day weekends great opportunities to get out and about to explore the country.

I flew from Curitiba to Rio De Janeiro's Aeroporto International Rio de Janeiro. From the international airport, I drove my rental car south along the coast towards Sao Paulo. Highway BR101, named Rio-Santos Highway, runs mostly along the coast with the heavily vegetated mountains of the Serra do Mar and Serra Das Araras on one side of the road and the Atlantic Ocean on the other.




Parati is a colonial village settled in the early 1500s. Parati was an important port supporting the gold mining industry of the interior regions surrounding Ouro Preto. Beside having a port, Parati was only place where the mountains and cliffs of the Serra do Mar could be climbed. Mining supplies traveled from Parati to the mines with gold leaving for Europe. Parati became very wealthy.






Parati's wealth and importance started to decline in the 1720's when an alternative route cut 15 days of travel. In the 1800s Parati was well known for coffee cultivation. Today it is well known for it cachaca (pinga) - raw white rum production as well as tourism. Until the middle 1950s the only way to access Parati was by sea thus helping to preserve the quaintness of the village.

The streets are covered with cobblestones. The buildings are trimmed with elaborate tile trim and pastel colors. Restaurants as well as shops are located in former residences which eliminates much of the commercial crassness of other tourist centers.



From the municipal pier you can buy a ticket to cruise on a schooner on the large and tranquil bay dotted with many forested islands. Some of the islands have beautiful houses on them - secluded retreats for the well to do of Sao Paulo and Rio.

"Doctor" Feel Good

Yesterday there was a festival in Kumphawapi. The highlight of the festival was long boat racing on the river or more like - flooded land that runs on the edge of the downtown center.

The long boats were around 50 to 60 feet long and very narrow. From bow to stern they were packed with paddlers. The banks along the water were covered with spectators watching and cheering on their favorite team. The main road's bridge over the water was lined with spectators and flags.

In the park where the monkeys hang out, there were all kinds of booths with games such as burst the balloons with darts, food, and drink. We also saw two small elephants being paraded around the grounds.

So why am I not posting pictures of this event? I don't have any. I could not walk. I have an injured foot that severely limits my mobility.

Three days ago I was demonstrating to Duang my Lao Loum dancing moves to one of my favorite songs. The moves involved stomping with alternating feet. I did this in bare feet on the concrete and tile floor of our living room. The next morning my left foot felt as if it had a cracked bone or stepped on by an elephant.

After two days I decided to listen to Duang and have the foot checked out. She knew of a "doctor who has Santa Claus inside him who take care of people good". The translation is "There is a doctor who has the spirit of God in him which allows him to take care of people well" Her cousin was going to see him yesterday so I could go too and be taken care of. Since Duang was putting both of her good feet down and insisting that I see a doctor and would not allow me to go photograph in Kumphawapi until I had the foot looked after, I agreed. Besides this sounded interesting - "a doctor with Santa Claus inside..." I am open minded and besides this had a sense of adventure to it. Despite my open mind and sense of adventure, as my late grandmother used to say "I am not crazy ... yet".

Prior to going to see the miracle worker of the paddies, I had duang, her son and his girl friend take me to the emergency room of the private international hospital here in Udonthani. I saw a doctor and had my foot x-rayed. I do not have a cracked bone or a broken bone but I do have a sprained or bruised foot as I had suspected. Years ago I had the same injury when I cut firewood for my children in Yellowstone National Park using Rambo karate kicks. Knowing that nothing can be done other than rest the foot, elevate foot, ice the foot, take Motrin, and wear an elastic bandage on the foot, I was reassured that consulting the "doctor with Santa Claus" would cause no harm. The total bill for the emergency room visit - $23.53 U. S. dollars.

We went to Tahsang Village to pick up Duang's cousin to see the doctor. Well in the end 10 of us ended up in the pick up truck. We had to go through Kumphawapi to get to the doctor so I was able to glimpse the festival.

We drove way out into the middle of the rice farming region. Six times we had to stop to ask or to confirm directions to the place we were going to. Surprisingly, everyone knew about this guy and was able to guide us on our way. After about an hour we arrived at a typical Isaan village and found the doctor's place.

Several people were there ahead of us. I hobbled inside of his house and sat down on a wood couch in his living room which was also his clinic. Three woven reed mats, sahts, lay on the floor. Each saht had a patient laying on it. On the floor next to me were several, as in 50 or more, medical syringes. Along with the syringes were just as many hypodermic needles - factory fresh in their sealed packaging. This was a relief to see that he was exercising good practices for injections. A stethoscope lay on the floor that the doctor used to listen to each patient's heart through both their chest, and neck. Next to the unused syringes were many bundles of injectable medicines scattered about the floor. There was a cardboard box that contained different sized vials of injectable medicines. A small plastic bag was used to contain the disposed of empty vials. A Glass jar was just about filled with discarded needles.

Duang's cousin although a young woman, is partially paralyzed on her left side - I suspect fro polio or a mild stroke. I know that she also suffers from epilepsy. I asked Duang why her cousin was seeing the doctor and Duang explained to me that her cousin had been getting dizzy and passing out lately.

Her cousin laid down on the saht and the doctor checked her heart with the stethoscope and felt her ankles with his hands just as he did with every other patient. He spoke about 30 seconds with her and told her that she had a bad heart. He then gave her two injections. Since I could not move well, I had Duang bring me one of the empty vials that had been used on her cousin. The vial was "Diazepam" more commonly known as "Valium". That did it for me - there was no way this doctor was going to be doing anything for me! There was no way he was going to be doing anything for Duang! Prior to entering his house he told me that he could "take care of me one time only - 100%". I did not see a medical diploma or license on the walls. The lack of medicines other than injectables seemed suspicious to me. The fact that everyone ended up with 2 or three injections made me extremely suspicious. Knowing that he injected someone with a "bad heart" with Valium scared me. I declined as best as I could without him losing face and I was adamant to Duang that she would not be examined.

Of the 10 people in our group that went to the doctor - 6 received injections and paid their $2.94 USD. I was appalled. When we got back home I explained to Duang why I didn't let the doctor treat me and would not let him treat her. I told her that the doctor did not cure anyone but only made them "feel" better. The trip back to Tahsang Village was quiet, just about all the patients had gone to sleep.

As I was writing this blog, I discussed yesterday's events once again with Duang. I told her that I did not think that the man was a real doctor and that I knew more about medicine than him. She said "No he not doctor, he man that wants to help people. He go to school to be a doctor but not finish after two years. he learn some things in school to help people (no doubt giving injections). Santa Claus (God) told the man to help people and complained that the man had not been a Monk yet." The man went to the local authorities and told them that he had two years of school and wanted to help people so they apparently allow him to "practice medicine" She told me that the man was going to be helping people for five years and then he was going to become a Monk. She said the people felt better that he had helped them. I explained the difference between being cured and feeling better.

Doctor Feel Good makes his patients feel better but I doubt that many are cured by his efforts.

Absolutely scary - another reason why we need to know as much as we can about everything in order to make informed decisions.

History Can Be A Cruel Judge

This week has been rather low key. We continue to go into town for Duang to see the doctor every two or three days as he directs us to. She is recovering very nicely from her surgery. New skin is growing over the grafts and her hearing has already improved noticeably. The visits to the doctor are to clean the ears and for the doctor to monitor her condition. We are not charged for the visits and they are an opportunity for Duang to keep up to date with the other patients that we see at the office - time and time again. Here in Isaan gossip and small talk is a big pastime with doctor's offices and hospital especially fertile grounds.

I have completed my second book, and am editing it prior to ordering a copy to preview here in Thailand. I was able to keep it at 200 pages so am pleased that the price will be what I had targeted.

Another big activity this past week has been connecting with people that I have not communicated with in over 38 years. What was extremely difficult just 10 years ago, is fairly easy now with the capabilities of the Internet. In reestablishing contact with people from the past, I got motivated to haul out my college yearbook - University of Rhode Island 1971.

It was a very sad and embarrassing experience. It was sad in that the yearbook was such a piece of crap. In their song "Book Ends" Simon and Garfunkel sing

"Time it was and what a time it was it was,
A time of innocence a time of confidences.

Long ago it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you"

Well there isn't all that much left of us in the university yearbook. The photographs are very poor and the writing was not much better. The book was not even organized very well. To find a photograph of a classmate in the yearbook you need to know their Zodiac or you have to thumb through all the photographs until you find them. To use a current popular phrase "What were you thinking ...?" After 38 years, do people care anymore than they did back then what some one's birth sign is?

Most of the photographs lack any captions so much of their significance is lost.

All in all it was embarrassing much like watching a 1968 through 1971 movie starring Elliot Gould - Embarrassing and just as painful. It is painful to see and realize that so much of our memories of our graduating year were high jacked by political click that usurped the yearbook for their personal political agenda.

Of course I am guilty like so many others of not caring about the direction of the yearbook or the politics of the day. This apathy allowed the extremists to have their way. Unfortunately most politics is the same be it radical, liberal, conservative, or whatever. It participants are basically cut out of the same mold - egocentric arrogant megalomaniacs.

I remember at the time of the late 60s and early 70s I was as much opposed to Mark Rudd, Rennie Davis, Jerry Rubin. and Abbie Hoffman as I was to Lyndon Johnson, Spiro Agnew, John Mitchell, and Richard Nixon. I saw that they were the same people only with different clothing and hairstyles. They shared the same arrogance and intolerance for dissent. They all needed the same adulation and affection. They thirsted for the same power and control.

It is ironic how politicians and leaders all end up with the same self defining look of arrogance - a smirk to dismiss all that dare to question or oppose their intentions.

Looking back at the year book, I see the same traits and ensuing results in the yearbook. It is lamentable that the staff could not anticipate the future and allow for it in their work product. They could have better served their present and definitely served their future much better.

Karl Marx wrote "History repeats itself ... the first time as tragedy and the second time as farce". From afar it seems to me that the radical and derisive politics of the 60s and 70s are unfolding a second time. The times have changed. The issues are the same. The cast of characters are the same. Only the actors have changed.

There may or may not be a Final Judgement but there is a harsh and cruel Judge for all of us to reckon with in the interim - History.

Bang Fai Phaya Nark - The Naga Fireballs

Yesterday, October 04, was Ok Phansa here in Thailand. Ok Phansa marks the end of Buddhist Lent and coincidentally the end of the monsoon season. During Buddhist Lent, the Monks are confined to their monasteries and Wats. There is some debate as to the origins of this requirement. One cause is attributable to the need for the Monks to avoid trampling an living creatures while walking about on the flooded lands. The other reason is said to be to prevent the Monks from trampling the newly planted rice during their excursions.

Here in Isaan, the full moon of the eleventh lunar month, marks the celebration of Bang Fai Phaya Nark (pronounced Bang - Fye - Paiyah - Nah). The focus of this celebration are the "Naga Fireballs". This is no small event, the most popular Thai television station, Channel 7, was broadcasting the event live throughout Thailand and Laos.

The Naga fireballs are globes of light that rise up out of the Mekong River and surrounding ponds as well as tributaries to the Mekong. The fireballs are silent, smokeless and have no odor. As the full moon rises above the horizon, the fireballs begin to rise out of the water to a height of about 100 feet. The reddish balls upon reaching their apogee, disappear into the dark sky.

The Lao Loum people believe that the fireballs are caused by Phaya Nagi, a mythical serpent who is also King of the water underworld (reference my previous blog "Go-Go Girls at the Gate ..." dated 10 May 2009.). The fireballs at the end of Buddhist Lent commemorates the fireballs that the Nagas (serphents) created as offerings and entertainment for Buddha upon one of his returns to Earth.

There are several places to observe the fireballs along the Thai side of the Mekong River. Yesterday we went to one of the more popular locations, a town named "Phon Phisai" which is located several kilometers downstream from the border crossing town of Nong Khai. Along the Thai riverbank hundreds of thousands of people sit to await the arrival of the fireballs. We decided to beat the notorious traffic jams by leaving our home in Udonthani around 11:30 A. M. and taking a roundabout route through the small villages set out amongst the rice paddies rather than than more direct route on Isaan's equivalent of the Interstate highway to Nong Khai. Our strategy to Phon Phisai worked like a charm.

We found a place to park the truck one block from the river bank and one block from the Wat over looking the Mekong. We walked the one block to the river and encountered a pedestrian walkway filled with restaurants, food vendors, souvenir booths, and drink booths. On the other side of the pedestrian walkway was the grassy river bank. At some locations there were nice elevated wood pavilions jutting out to close to the water's edge. These locations were already filled with families. Other locations of the walkway were filled with tables and plastic chairs that had reserved signs on them. We found a great place to set up our saht (woven reed mat) to await and view the fireballs.

Built into the river bank was a series of concrete stairs to form stadium seating approximately 6 levels high. Between the last concrete step and the river was a 15 foot high grassy drop off with some scattered bushes to the water. We selected a great spot across from a restaurant that had live entertainment. Our spot had a a little shade which was very welcomed because it was sunny, hot and humid. I sweated from 1:30 P.M. until the truck A/C cooled me off at 10:30 P. M.

We entertained ourselves until sunset around 5:30 P. M. With the setting sun, some of the spectators launched "Khom Fai", Lanna style paper sky lanterns. Khom Fai are tissue paper hot air balloons that rise into the sky from the hot air created by the burning wax or paraffin ring suspended inside of them. They create a very warm light and rise very high into the night. Last night was absolutely perfect for them - still with no wind.

We had been told that the Naga fireballs would be most likely to appear between 6:00 P.M. and 9:00 P.M. I didn't quite understand.

Some scientific people attribute the Naga fireballs to release of methane gases caused by decaying vegetation in the river mud. These scientists also state that these gas bubbles spontaneously ignite was above the water's surface. I did not quite understand.

At 6:00 P.M. I looked up the river towards Nong Khai and saw thousands and thousands of lights coming towards us. I joked with Duang about seeing the Naga fireballs. Shortly later the lights were quickly passing by us. The lights were actually small fires floating upon the river - being swiftly swept downstream by the river current. Now it was starting to make sense. Now I was understanding.

This must be how people can predict that the ball will appear on Ok Phansa night. This must be how the gas bubbles, if that what they are, can ignite. There still remains some mystery in that the river is always swiftly moving at this time of year so the theory of releasing gas from decaying river bottom vegetation isn't full credible.

The flow of floating fires upon the river continued unabated for three hours. While the offerings were floating by, people on the riverbanks - both sides, Thailand and Laos were occupied launching fireworks and fire crackers over the river. The launching of sky lanterns and fireworks filled the night sky with a variety of lights and sounds.

After two hours, we had not seen any Naga fireballs. We were considering leaving at 8:00 P.M. when I noticed something different headed towards us - lighted boats. Earlier in the afternoon we had seen some river boats (similar to pirouges in Louisiana) lashed together with strings suspended from frameworks attached to the boats. The boats were headed upstream towards Nong Khai.

The boats were now floating downstream with the river current. Suspended from the strings were burning candles to create the effect of large floating outlined boats. It was beautiful. After an hour the boat parade was over. We had not seen any Naga fireballs. It was 9:00 P. M. so we decided to head home. Our return strategy was the same as the one that got us to Phon Phisai. It worked well ONCE WE SPENT ONE HOUR in horrendous traffic traveling the two miles to get to the split in the road to Nong Khai and our interim destination of Baan Dung.

We had not seen any Naga fireballs. We don't know if anyone did. But we may have come close, too close ... when we first arrived at "our" spot we went up to a booth under a large shade tree to buy some ice teas. While I was paying there was a small commotion, a small 3/4" by 18" long green snake, was slithering up the tree trunk just behind the booth. Later in the night, there was a group of young men on a saht drinking, singing and having a great time by a lit candle on the ground about 15 feet from us. All of a sudden we heard them yelling, hollering and saw them jumping around. I thought that perhaps one of them had caught on fire and then I saw it. I saw it in the dim light. On the ground slithering towards us in a fairly rapid speed was the afternoon snake. Half way to us, the snake turned and disappeared into the overgrowth where I had been tramping around taking photographs. It was pretty exciting. Perhaps when he gets older there will be more fireballs.