From Rags to Riches in Myanmar

Rural life in Myanmar, their river is their bath and the place to wash clothes, and also provides them with food and water for crops.

From rags to riches, that is exactly what I witnessed as I made my way down to Yangon and the beaches of central Myanmar. I would say that during my travels in Myanmar, 70% of my time was spent on the backroads surrounded by rural villages and countryside. Here, life is very primitive and simple (hence I used the title “rags”) but that does not mean that they lack happiness in their daily life. Actually I'd argue the opposite. Village life witnessed from the side of the road and through my interaction might be titled as extreme poverty with few resources on which to live, but it was in these areas that I felt the most comfortable as a traveler because of the genuine heart filled personality of the locals.

Village houses in rural Myanmar

A grouping of houses by the main road

The bridge to a few houses on the other side of a canal.

Despite their very meager conditions, villagers in Myanmar always seemed happy and content with the bare minimum. And when I say refer to the bare minimum, that is even a bit of a stretch. Houses are nothing more than a roof, some without walls, others with only three walls and are as small as 3 or 4 square meters.  Privacy is a luxury, beds the floor unless they have a foldable mattress or some sort of bamboo pad.  Roofs made out of dried banana and palm leaves, raised on stilts if they are lucky to survive the wet season. It was common to encounter people here bathing in the streams or at a public water hole, which might be as simple as a big barrel of water and a bucket to be shared by all the people in the vicinity. Most families found a way to convert their living quarters into some sort of a business selling snacks or beverages, anything they could to make a little money. Close by was some sort of crop growing that they would all cultivate, probably one of the only sources of income for the people.

In a nut shell, the character of many Burmese is similar to this little girl

In the mountains from Inle Lake to the new capital city of Nay Pyi Taw, I had trouble finding a restaurant. Small shops were scattered along the way, but a proper tea house with green tea and meals were hard to come by. One morning I had to pedal 20 miles before I found a shop with tea I could drink to warm up in the crisp mountain air. This is unusual for SE Asia where food and drink is normally in abundance. Resources in the mountains in Myanmar were limited, making it feel as though I was really off the beaten track experiencing rural village life, which accounts for a good majority of the lives of people in Myanmar. As a tourist in rural Myanmar, they were always so curious regarding my presence, but never once treated me poorly. Never once did it dawn on them that I was a tourist and therefore they should treat me differently, charge me more, or take advantage of me in any other way. They were always willing to help me, even if it involved a lot of giggling.

No food stalls lining these mountain roads

Many of the remote landscapes in Myanmar's mountains

In rural Myanmar I was fascinated to observe their daily lives and have a profound respect for them. Survival is their objective as they are completely reliant on their own efforts in order to meet their daily needs. They build their houses by hand, they grow all their vegetables that they eat. Meat, I'm sure is a commodity but comes from the few chickens and pigs you seem roaming around freely. They might have a water buffalo to help with the efforts, but if not, they carry everything with their own bare hands, many times balancing things on their heads, or strapping heavy bags over their heads. If the road needs to be repaired, it is done all by hand. That means they gather the rocks, spread them out on the ground, level them with hand tools, and burn the barrels of tar that is then spread over the rocks. There are no bulldozers, no trucks, everything is done by hand. Witnessing their daily efforts were humbling. Their day is consumed doing everything in order to maintain a sustainable life up in the mountains. With few resources they depend completely on themselves, their family, and other village members.

A barrier to avoid mud slides, all done by hand

Road works, all done by hand

My company on the rural roads

Needless to say, I was in shock when I arrived in more developed areas, especially the new capital city of Nay Pyi Taw. About five years ago, the government decided to move Myanmar's capital from Yangon to Nay Pyi Taw, because of the more central location. Perhaps it is central geographically but the hub of activity remains in Yangon. My jaw dropped as I witnessed immaculate newly constructed 10 lane highways, skyscrapers, and infrastructure such as expo centers that looked as if they could accommodate events of many thousands of people. Oddly enough, the city is deserted with few inhabitants. I was repulsed by what I witnessed imagining the money and time that was spent to move the capital to Nay Pyi Taw, after observing the poverty conditions in rural villages. Just stop and thing about the money and effort that would be involved if all of a sudden the United States decided to move our capital from Washington DC to let's say somewhere central like Wichita, Kansas? With the money spent on the new capital the Myanmar government could have invested in the country's basic education system or improved the network of rural roads using the proper technology and machinery. It was appalling to witness and the reason why I chose hop on a night bus rather than spend the night and contribute to this economy.

Nay Pyi Taw, an empty capital

A empty massive highway, think it was an over kill?

Government buildings

Having cycled up the western central plains of Myanmar, I bused myself down to Yangon and cycled through the delta to the beach destination of Ngwe Saung, where I was also in for more surprises. In central and northern Myanmar there are a total of 3 beach destinations, one being for middle class locals and the other two for rich Yangonites and foreigners. I headed to the upper class beach because from the description of a 13 miles pristine stretch of beach with virtually no inhabitants, I thought I would find plenty of places to camp. Boy was I in for a surprise when I discovered that the entire stretch of beach basically belonged to a huge hotel compound and all the property was carefully gated and strictly patrolled. I cycled to the very end of the beach strip where the road turned to sand, and found myself among all the local village people who probably worked at the hotels. Their huts and houses were scattered everywhere and there wasn't one place I could put my tent and go under the radar. My plan back-fired as again I found myself surrounded by the “riches” of Myanmar.  Luckily I found a "resort" that would let me put my tent in the back corner of their property for a meager price, using their bucket shower to wash-up.

Definitely a tourist hub!

This is what the locals spend their time doing at the beach, taking photos of themselves

The average price of the beach resorts in Ngwe Saung go for about 80 dollars a night all the way up to 300 USD, and to tell you the truth, the amount of western foreigners is outnumbered by far by the locals. SUV after SUV with a Yangon license plate passed me on the road to the beach, which again blew my mind: the disparity between the rich and the poor in this country. It blows my mind as there is such an extreme spectrum. Here I had spent so much time up in rural Myanmar observing their simple and minimal lifestyle and now I was surrounded by extreme wealth among the very wealthy burmese. Here I had eaten three meals a day for under 2 dollars and at the beach, I couldn't even buy a fruit shake for 2 dollars. Amazing! Hence the title of this blog, from rags to riches.  Unlike western beach destinations, you won't find towels or people bathing in the sun on the sandy beaches.  No, the Burmese don't go to the beach to do that, they go there to take pictures, a status symbol, that let's others know they were there.  A few men were in the water in bathing suits, and the women that dares entered did so fully clothed or in a bathing suit that was completely covered up.  The sun was so intense on the beach during the middle of the day that everyone retreats to their resort for shade.  I found myself on a beach chair under an umbrella completely alone, which was absolutely delightful! 

The abandoned beach

Believe it or not, I can sit still, for an hour or so

My visit to Ngwe Saung prepared me for my visit to Yangon or Rangoon, as it was once called, the former capital of Myanmar. I'm glad I waited until the end of my trip to see Yangon, because, where as some people would see it as the norm for life in Myanmar, rural village life had become the norm and Yangon was something out of the ordinary. A bustling big city, that was actually quite calm and pleasant compared to other southeast Asian capitals such as Phnom Pehn, Bangkok, and Ho Chi Minh. For one, motorcycles are prohibited so traffic consists of a sea of taxis, buses, and bike taxis, making it easier to navigate than motor scooters. I also arrived on a Sunday and the following day was a bank holiday, so I think the city was calm in comparison to other days of the week. There was an ever-present essence of colonialism with the decrepit colonial style buildings that looked as if they hadn't been restored since they were built 200 years prior. Also remarkably noticeable is the confluence of cultures and religions all sharing the same city. There is an eclectic mix of Chinese, Indians, Myanmar, and a few westerners, and therefore on the same street you see a pagoda, there is also a Hindu temple, a cathedral around the corner, and a Chinese temple across the street. Yangon reminded me a bit of Penang or other cities in Malaysia with the cultural diversity and amicable relationship between all it's inhabitants.

Market goers, evidence of Yangon's cultural diversity 

A woman setting up her market stand, impeccably organized

A Hindu temple in the city center

A Mosque behind the ruins of another building in Yangon

An old colonial buildings in Yangon 

I'm not a fan of big cities and only scheduled a day and a half to visit. The noise, crowds, and traffic usually deter me, but Yangon was a pleasant surprise. I found a quiet guesthouse in Chinatown and found the downtown area easy to navigate. Even the main Schwedagon Pagoda is accessible by foot, making it a very friendly city to do on foot. Hands down the most enjoyable part of my visit was the food. I had no idea that Yangon is a foodie hub. With all the different ethnic groups it's no wonder. Basically my day and half here involved eating my way through the different neighborhoods trying anything and everything that I saw on the street. I would have needed an extra week if not month to do justice to the exquisite culinary offerings in the city, and I'm only talking about those that you find on the street food carts.......

Schwedagon pagoda, the main attraction in Yangon for tourists

The night market that lines the streets of downtown Yangon

With my visit to Yangon, my bike tour in Myanmar came to a close. I have thoroughly enjoyed biking this country even considering the more difficult circumstances involved with accommodation, the suspicious police, and the controlling government. I've developed a new appeal for traveling in a more undeveloped tourist destination making for more of a challenge and a memorable adventure. The daily life I witnessed in Myanmar is humbling. I have an incredible amount of respect for the Burmese, their work ethic, and their daily routine. After my month here, I'm again reminded about the perspective I gained after many months and kilometers traveling on a bike. I need very little in order to be happy and my standards and expectations are so low, that happiness comes from the most simple things in life and this, in my opinion, is priceless. Maybe you'd say I live like a poor person, especially traveling through Myanmar, but so be it! I prefer to experience a country as a local rather than as a king, pampering myself with frivolous amenities. I'm the happiest of people drinking a cup of milky tea and eating a fried pastry for a total of 30 cents. Dare I tell you the three souvenirs I bought? A burmese lunch box, the ingredients to make pickled tea leaf salad, my staple here in Myanmar, and their milky tea in sachets!

Stay tuned for a few more blog posts on Myanmar featuring their food, my accommodations in Myanmar, and a photo documentation of the country.   

My Buddhist Pilgrimage

The famous Golden Rock which draws Burmese pilgrims from all around the country

I had arrived at a tourist attraction without even realizing. After not seeing any westerners since crossing the Thai border, except for James, a British tourist cyclist I met just over the border and cycled with for two days, all of a sudden there was a herd of them. Where was I? Kyaiktiyo, the famous Pagoda that sits atop a golden rock that is precariously (and supposedly) balanced on one of Buddha's hairs. As the Lonely Planet states, "Legend states that the boulder maintains its precarious balance due to a precisely placed Buddha hair in the stupa. Appar- ently King Tissa received the Buddha hair in the 11th century from a hermit who had secreted the hair in his own topknot. The hermit instructed the king to search for a boulder whose shape resembled the her- mit’s head, and then enshrine the hair in a stupa on top."  This pagoda is so well-respected in the Burmese Buddhist culture that people here make a pilgrimage to it every year from November to March.  

Besides the swarms of backpackers, I also found myself with a group of tour cyclists: 3 Germans and a Brit.

The town at the base of the Golden Rock

What to do? Visit the pagoda along with the mobs of people, or carry on? I couldn't decide but one this was for sure, I was done for today. My legs couldn't go any further, so James and I found a guesthouse. The day before had caught up with me, the noise, and the early mornings. It is impossible to sleep in here, as the morning buddhists prayer and songs start at about 5:30 and carry on for a few hours.

James was my cycling companion for a few days, but he carried on to Yangon rather than doing the pilgrimage

James was on a tight schedule and meeting friends in Yangon, and I decided to make the Golden Rock a day trip and a day off of the bike. The next morning I cycled up to the town at the base of the temple where tourists have to take a open ceiling bus, still some 12 kilometers above, or walk. Guess what I opted for? After finding a guesthouse that had been recommended by some Spanish cyclists I had encountered, I packed up my small bag of items and set off for the pilgrimage “hike”. I thought the path would be crowded, after all, it has religious significance. The man at the hotel told me it took 4 to 6 hours to hike, as it went uphill the entire way, but being the optimist that I am and knowing that I usually hike faster than the stated time, I thought I'd be up in two hours.

Very simple housing for the locals

Or perhaps I wasn't going to go as quickly....No sooner did I set off did I reach a tourist police booth. You have to be kidding me? How was I going to cause a problem, I was hiking a well marked trail? I caught the policeman so off guard, he had no books for me to register, just a chair to sit in and an empty booth. He signaled for me to wait, so I sat down in the chair. After 5 minutes of twiddling my thumbs, I fibbed and told him I had friends to meet at the top, so he had me write down my name, passport number, and hotel. To my surprise he started escorting me. Yikes! Was he really going to escort me the entire four hours? Thankfully he dropped off after 10 minutes and I was alone and on my way. The path was pretty abandoned and lacked others pilgrims. The only foot traffic were locals walking between villages and houses, or carrying goods up from below. I did meet a few local tourists coming down, but no one going up. At one time this had been a heavily trafficked path as souvenir and food stalls, which were also residences of the local villagers, lined the way. It was absurdly impossible to get lost! I had packed a 1,5 liter water bottle, but in all honesty I didn't need it as there were plenty of beverages for purchase along the way. I stopped twice for snacks and kept a pretty good pace the whole time. Setting off in the heat of the day, I felt like I was on a stair master on the hardest level possible. I stayed motivated seeing the locals walking down in sarongs and flip flops, the national shoe of Myanmar.

The handmade souvenirs, guns made out of bamboo sporting the words Rambo USA and a date, quite amusing for a sacred pilgrimage

Some of the friendly young monks I encountered along the way.  With all the pagodas in here, the area is crawling with them.

There were kilometer markers, or so it seemed but it took me almost the entire ascent to figure out how they worked. Unlike a few road markers I've seen that are in kilometers, the trail marked distance in miles, I finally realized, divided into 8 equal parts. An odd way to calculate the distance, but once I discovered the logic, I knew how far I had left. To my surprise the hike took me a full three and a half hours. Close to the top I came across the trucks that carted people up and down and by their speed and sharp turns on the curvy road, I realized I was smart to have walked the 8 miles (12 km) as I probably would have gotten sick on the truck. Besides the vendors asking me if I wanted to buy water or coca cola, the hike up had been the most pleasant and quiet 4 hours I'd had since entering Myanmar and I had truly enjoyed myself and all the great scenery of the mountains.

The red signs indicates a village sign and the yellow marker is the mile post, which had me baffled for a bit, probably due to the heat and lack of oxygen.......

More views, mountains and hills in all directions

Views during my hike up

One of several pagodas I encountered along the hike up.  Looking in every direction, pagodas dotted the hillside

A decorative entrance to a pagoda

At the top, of course there was another tourist checkpoint. Since I arrived later in the afternoon, I tried to press my luck and in a friendly way bargain with the tourist police to give me half off the entrance fee. He didn't seem to think that was very funny. Nor did the women at the entrance gate when she saw my shorts were above the knee. I had forgotten to bring my skirt to pull on for the visit to the pagoda. She gave me a sarong and helped wrap it around me. She took my shoes (you have to go shoeless in pagoda's) so I would have to return to her.

Looking like a local with the skirt

At first sight I was shocked by the Burmese definition of a pilgrimage. There were masses of people sprawled over the ground. They had brought mats, food, entertainment systems, you name it. If they were in some sort of conversation, they were playing with their mobiles or taking selfies. Vendors were everywhere, and I had a quick flashback to my arrival in Hong Kong, when I witnessed all the Philippine maids take the streets on Sunday, their day off. It was the strangest sight. There were very few western tourists, this was a hotspot for local tourists, or at least during this season. I had seen pictures of the Golden Rock and could easily see it when I reached the top, but overall I was a bit disappointed, unable to understand how this was a sacred event for Burmese Buddhists. It was far from peaceful, calm, and meditative at the top. I, however, felt like I had had a more spiritual experience hiking up, or perhaps it was just a well-needed break from all the noise.

The view from the hike and one of the straighter sections of the road up by truck

I was glad I chose to hike rather than ride in the back of this truck.  You can see the one westerner compared to the amount of local tourists.

Loads of people walking to and from at the top

I headed down to gather my shoes and wouldn't you know the tourist police who had given me the sarong was eager to collect two dollars for using it. Of course I put up a stink. I feel like this country completely takes advantage of tourists thinking we have an unlimited amount of money. I know two dollars is a misery, but I wasn't about to fork it over to her, a corrupt tourist police. I was happy to spend my money on food and drink and support the locals, but not the tourist police. You see the Spaniards had warned me that they had finally protested with all the absurd entrance fees at the tourist sites and were able to finally avoid them. I decided to follow in their footsteps and the police woman was upset, but she knew she had no right charging me for the sarong. In Thailand they give them to all tourists wearing shorts or a tank top without any hassle.

Yes, it is an impressive rock and pagoda to see, and insightful to experience a buddhist pilgrimage

To my amazement there was quite a bit of civilization up top

After my encounter with her and with less than an hour at the pagoda with mobs of pilgrims, I decided that I was going to hike back down and enjoy the calm and serene environment. At the base of the entrance I saw a familiar face. As I mentioned in my last blog, I had been following the blog of a Scotsman who was currently touring around Central Myanmar, and there he was walking up the steps of the Golden Rock. “Are you Ian Mitchell?” I stopped and asked with a big smile on my face. I was pretty sure I recognized him from the photos in his posts, not to mention he was one of the only westerners and was sporting a bike jersey. I took him completely off guard. I had emailed him a few times asking some questions, and it finally dawned on him, that is who I had to be. After being stopped by a good handful of strangers myself on my trip who knew me, it was fun to surprise someone else. We started talking and then decided to go for a drink, which is when we realized we were staying at the same hotel and so we made plans to meet back there in the evening.

A few too many people for me, which is why I opted to walk down again......

My hike down was effortless in comparison to the way up and even more peaceful as sunset approached. I arrived down to the bottom in about two hours and used my head light for the last 15 minutes. It was absolutely delightful! I had managed to hike the entire 16 mile (24 km) pilgrimage, and although that seems like an absurd activity for a “rest” day, it was a huge rest from all the noise and bumps on the road.

More monks on the way down, watching a game of volleyball

It always amazes me how happy the children are in southeast Asia with so little......

Sunset approaching on my descent

I found Ian and we went to dinner while swapping route information and travel advice. Ian's month visa was coming to an end and he was cycling over to Thailand using the same road I had to cross. Between reading his blog and that of other tour cyclists and asking him countless questions, I felt well prepared to cycle through Myanmar.

Ian Mitchell, just the way I saw him in his blog posts.  He was on the road before me, but also headed the opposite direction

The next morning I took advantage of a decent internet connection at the hotel before starting. Feeling refreshed and with a new sense of confidence, I was back to the battle field. Stay tuned for my next post with another my hospitable encounter with some Buddhist monks.......

The Wongwang Family: A Hidden Jewel

Sunset in Ban Pong Ho San

Once upon a time in a little village called Ban Pong Ho San there lived a family called the Wongwang family. This family was not small, indeed there were many different members: aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, grandchildren, and great grand children. Pisak, an inspiring artist was among them. He had moved away to Bangkok when he was young as many young Thais do to seek work. In the big city he found more than work, he met Au-sa, from Isan, a northeast province of Thailand, and also a young artist. The two fell in love and decided to move back to Ban Pong Ho San take care of Pisak's elderly parents and start a family of their own.

The village bridge in Ban Pong Ho San

Pisak had taught himself English as a young adult watching movies in English over and over again until he could understand them. He read books, looked at videos and TV on the internet, hungry for anything in English to improve his skills. When their first child, Nara, was born in 2008, Pisak decided to put in practice what he had read in a book, Parenting in Two Languages. He was determined to give his child a better life than he had and wanted to teach him English. And so Pisak decided to do as the book suggested, he would speak to Nara in English and expose his child to as much English as possible and the rest of his family would speak to him in Thai. Would this really work? He wasn't certain, but he had to try, it was the only opportunity for his son, Narah, to learn English.

The Wongwang family enjoying dinner

You see their village is so small that several years ago, the primary school that served the students closed down. Their is a one-room-school house in the village in place of the larger primary school but Au-sa and Pisak opted to homeschool their children, one of about 2,000 families in Thailand who also choose this type of education. Both Pisak and Au-sa are involved in Narah's education. They rely heavily on the internet for videos and website with English content. When Narah is five his baby sister Myda, is born and they also speak to her in English and Thai. Not having the opportunity to speak with natives, they aren't sure what sort of language proficiency their children really have, they are just eager to expose them to as much English as possible.

This Dad has a lot of love (and knowledge) to give

How did I stumble upon this family in a tiny village that isn't even on the map? Again, it is my faithful warmshowers network of hospitality for cyclists. Au-sa was eager to have “phalang” visit and come to her village from a cultural exchange point-of-view. A friend of her's mentioned warmshowers and not being a cyclist herself, although they frequently ride bikes around the village, she signed her family up, on January 2, 2015 to be precise. I ready their profile a couple of weeks later as I was traveling through the area. It read: “No smoke, no pets, peace full place Kakaiarts ceramic at garden, we have painting thai arts.” I chuckled! I should compile a list of the funny warmshower profiles I have read in non-English countries. Sometimes they scare me so, I wouldn't even think of contacting them, but then there are profiles like this, where I stop and reason. This is a new user, perhaps very proud of their house and eager to show foreigners a traditional Thai lifestyle, with limited English. Just because they can't speak perfect English doesn't mean I should disregard them as warmshowers hosts, afterall, their house was en route, and would make for a nice stopover.

I decide to write and I'm surprised when they respond. We work out the details via email, and they come pick me up in the city of Lampang, because they are unable to give me specific directions to their house. I can't help but form a mental image of what they are like; perhaps a very wealthy thai art collector. Maybe the husband cycles while the wife goes shopping? My mind is drifting and envisioning their house and decorations when I'm greeted by Au-Sa who waves from a pick-up. We were suppose to meet at the 7-eleven across from the bus station at 4pm. It is now 4:20, wouldn't you know there are two 7-elevens within 200 meters of each other at the bus station, but not visible from one to the other? Only in Thailand. He husband gets out of the truck and we load my bicycle in the back of the truck with buckets of paint and construction working gear. I speak slowly and use simple sentences and basic vocabulary, but their English is much better than portrayed in the WS profile, I'm shocked.

Narah playing Mindcraft, he's addicted!

We are off to pick up their son, and a baby daughter at home awaits. They inform me their son speaks English too. It is rare to meet a Thai adult who speaks English rather fluently, so I can't imagine a child. Narah is shy at first, but active. We pick him up from an after school learning center where he occasional goes while his parents run errands in town. We all pile in the pick-up truck and start driving home. I'm conversing with Pisak and Au-sa while Narah is in the back seat with me playing a video game on a tablet. I try to stay focused on my conversation with the couple, but I can't help but listen to Narah, who is narrating the entire video game in English using such natural English, you'd think I was sitting next to a little American boy. I listen intently, I can't believe what I'm witnessing. I comment out loud that I'm blown away by his English and his parents start to explain to me the way they have brought up their two children.

Myda, her name suits her well!

We arrive home and I meet little Myda. When asked how to pronounce her name, they told me to think of the “My Darling”, and truncate the word at Da. She is 2 years old and 4 months, she speaks clear English and answers all her dad's questions and talks to everyone in English, she even has a British accent that can be heard ever so slightly, especially when she calls for her “Mummy”. I'm speechless. Yes, I'm an educator and work with a lot of multi-lingual children, but they speak multiple languages because their parents have different mother tongues. They are also typically from elite families and have a wealth of resources and opportunities for their children. I've never witnessed bilingual children from parents who aren't native English speakers, not to mention who live in a small village in a third world developing country with few resources, including a spotty internet connection. Unbelievable!

Everyone is there to help, always.  It's an incredible family

Myda is so easily entertained and enjoys everyone's company

In Thailand, as witnessed in several other southeast Asian countries, they take the phrase, “It takes a village to raise a child” literally. Pisak has 2 other siblings in the village and their families as well as other extended family and all participate in their children's education and upbringing. One of Pisak's sisters was the English teacher at the village primary school before it closed and she also talks with the kids solely in English. Another one of Pisak's sister was a music teacher and sings songs with them frequently in English, even though her conversational English is limited. During my time with them, I see Myda spend time with a number of different relatives in all sorts of activities. Although it is hard to get Narah unglued from the internet and Mindcraft, when he isn't playing video games or watching youtube videos in English on Mindcraft strategy, he is in his Aunt's garden, drawing, playing by the river or paddling their boat in the river, or helping out the family with the ceramic factory.

Paddling a boat is a challenge with a language barrier and without facial contact!  Little did I know we weren't going anywhere, just collecting weeds for their pet rabbits

Pisak working on one of his paintings for the inside of a local temple

Yes, that is another coincidence. Pisak's family is incredibly artistic and so is Au-sa. Pisak is a freelance artist, he remodels old temples, is commissioned to make decorative paintings for their interiors, really, he is a “jack-of-all-trades”. He has a studio set-up at their house, which is also the corner store in the village. He works all day on the various projects he has taken on during the day, and at night, he paints trying to finish up the piece he has been commissioned to do recently. But he also finds time to be with his kids, teach them, and play with them. I stayed with his sister's family, the house across the street from theirs. Ampa, his older sister is a live wire and a creative soul as well. In fact, I'd say she's the Thai version of me, almost double my age. No sooner did I arrive, she gestured if she could try my bike, and off she set. Very few people dare to ride my bike, but she didn't hesitate for a minute. Au-sa told me to hop on her bike and follow her, and so I did, leading me to their property where they have both an organic farm, access to the river with a dock and boat, and a small ceramic factory.

Ampa has two hired workers helping with production

In the background you can see the pieces ready to go into the kiln

I was in heaven! Ceramics is my passion, and something I have been longing to get back into after my trip. Although they don' have potter wheels, they had plenty of slip cast dishes, and on day three I found myself decorating mugs and platters getting ready for the firing that would take place that evening. It was like a dream come true for me, my soul was dying for some sort of creative outlet and this was it!

I was so happy painting ceramics, Ampa caught me humming!

I was only going to stay a night or two at most, but in the end, before going to bed, I asked if I could stay one more day. They were all thrilled to have me. Ampa and her girlfriends gave me cooking lessons. I learned how to make Pad Thai, and Som Tam (papaya salad) as well as my favorite sweet treat, Caw Lam (sticky rice with coconut milk and beans) stuffed in a bamboo shoot. I discovered that Au-sa had always dreamed about making western cakes and sweet breads, and bought a small over and electric mixer, but was intimidated to try a recipe. Narah, on the other hand wasn't. He'd mix up concoctions and experiment in the kitchen and the microwave with his mixtures with an incredible sense of curiosity, which is why he was delighted to partake in the baking demonstration. They took me to a baking store in Lampang and I was shocked to see all my faovrite ingredients, cocoa powder, yeast, baking powder, and every type of flour imaginable. They even had McCormick spices imported from the United States and I was able to get cinnamon. We baked consecutive nights so that Au-sa had the recipe down and could make it on her own. They were intrigued by the western sweets I saw each pan pass through the hands of anyone and everyone who entered their store, yet I couldn't keep my hands off the sweet sticky rice in bamboo shoots! I refuse to take responsibility for introducing Ban Pong Ho San to these sweet treats.

Making cinnamon rolls

I simply watched over as they made banana bread

Oh the food! It was ever so tasty and endless. I would wake up and there was a feast waiting for me on the table from noodles and pork soup to grilled catfish. It seemed like we had just finished breakfast when it was time for lunch! Ampa took my comment about loving Som Tam literally, and papaya salad appeared at every meal! I also participated in a Thai barbeque which involved going shopping for massive quantity of groceries at Makro, the European/Asian version of Costco, but this one obviously was “Thai style”. I participated in the grocery shopping and felt like my Warmshowers guests Raimon and Ma Joana when they visited me and stepped foot inside Costco for the first time. In Thailand, customers pick out the meat they want, collect the shrimp themselves, making westerners and their shopping habits of being served, seem so sterile and uneventful. After visiting so many local fresh markets, I wondered why anyone would go to Makro for food, but then again, globalization is a world phenomenon!

Buying seafood like this would not fly in the western world!

It was quite tedious to fill each shoot with sticky rice, and to think it sells for 60 cents a shoot!

Ampa stuffing the bamboo with sticky rice

Making Pad Thai, I wrote this recipe down for future reference, I will call it "Ampa's Pad Thai"

A typical Thai BBQ

Overwhelmed by all the delicious food!

My days in Ban Pong Ho San were action packed from visiting temples, sightseeing in Lampang, and tasting strawberries on a farm, a novelty in the area. It seemed every time I sat down in their store for a bit of a break, a neighbor from the village showed up, eager to talk with me and practice their English. Kim was ever so sweet and showed up in a football Barcelona jersey and ended up joining Au-sa and I baking, and on another occasion a young monk sat down and conversed a bit. Here I was always taken back by their presence on the streets in the morning, curious about their daily life and here was a 13 year-old monk in training seated in front of me, eager to know what I was doing in his village. I also met Ed, a friend of Au-sa and Pisak who ran a motorbike mechanic workshop and was famous in the area for his skills. He was an avid cyclist so on two different mornings he took me for a ride around on the most incredible peaceful back roads at sunrise. One morning I also went on a long ride on my own, craving a bit more of activity and some “me time”, not to mention I had to make room for all the food they were feeding me. There is an impressive network of roads around their village and the great metropolis area of Lampang and I road effortlessly for a 100 kilometers or so one morning with little to no traffic and plenty of scenery.

Sunrise outside of Ban Pong Ho San.  The red is from the field burning and fires in the area unfortuntaely

My loyal guide for two morning rides

We even had time to give offerings to the monk before riding

Let's just say, I felt right at home with Au-sa and Pisak's family. I could have stayed for weeks or a month with this gem of a family. It was almost eery just how much I had in common with them and shared similar values and perspectives on life, a family hundreds of thousands of kilometers from where I grew up. A family with a huge heart, making the most of all their resources, living a very simple yet fulfilling life in a tiny village in Northern Thailand. Again, my trip has showed me that things just happen for a reason, and some things are just meant to be and completely out of our control.

Simply adorable little kids

I had a hard time leaving their house after 4 nights and 5 delightful days. I gained an incredible amount of insight into the Thai culture and experienced plenty of daily life that felt so natural and welcoming. Something tells me I'll be back.......and I'm sure other Warmshowers guests will be through, we rewrote their profile to reflect who they really are!

Their corner shop and house in Ban Pong Ho San 

Leaving the village on the back roads