Beginning of the End

Last week we said goodbye to our friends in Pai and headed to Chiang Rai—our base for the remaining month of our trip. Here we are volunteering with an organization called Khom Loy, which runs several different programs that focus on empowerment for Burmese refugees and cultural minorities in the north of Thailand. We'll be working with the Montessori branch of their organization, helping to train teachers, make materials, and set up new classrooms.

Khom Loy Development Foundation "Headquarters"

Sean hard at work in the office

Khom Loy was established in 2002 by an Englishman, Paul Hancock, and his Canadian wife, Patricia. Since then, the organization has grown tremendously. Year after year they continue to expand, making their programs available to more people throughout the region. Since they began, they've managed to convert over 40 traditional classrooms to the Montessori method. They've found that Montessori is a great approach to teaching vital Thai language skills to children from minority groups, thus improving their chances for the future. You can learn more about Khom Loy and their projects by visiting their website, http://khomloy.org/. I would also like to encourage anyone who is interested to check out Khom Loy's Montessori Blog at http://khomloymontessori.blogspot.com/.

When we arrived, we were welcomed warmly by Paul, Patricia, and their staff here at the foundation. All of the employees have been incredibly friendly since our arrival, and are clearly enthusiastic about having us here. On many days they insist on us joining them for lunch at a neighborhood restaurant, or even more kindly, invite us to share in a meal they've prepared—MmMmm! (or in Thai, "aroy mak mak!")

The teachers making materials in the practice classroom

 For this first week, we've mostly just been settling in. Settling into an eight hour work day, settling into our new apartment (complete with the first fridge and wardrobe we've had since we left—hurray!) settling into Chiang Rai. It feels good to be here, and we're excited to see what we can accomplish in the next month.

The Clock Tower in the center of town

A quirky bar on the main street

Blue Iguana

Music at the Night Bazaar

Figuring out what to order... 

Playing music with Paul and Patricia at "Cat Bar"

These beauties are EVERYWHERE! 

The rice fields behind our apartment

I call this one "Contrast Shack"

The Festival of Water

Every year, at the end of the dry season, the Thai people celebrate a most unique holiday. Their New Year's celebration—which is called “Songkran”—lasts anywhere from four to ten days. A long New Years holiday is common throughout Asia, but what makes the Thai New Year unlike any other is the way in which people celebrate. During this time, the entire population (and anyone passing through) participates in a week-long, nation-wide water fight.

Trash cans full of water line the roads from which groups of people continually slosh water over passers-by. Entire families ride around in the backs of trucks, dumping buckets over people indiscriminately. It's not uncommon to see full-grown adults wielding water-pistols, squirting even the most unsuspecting of people without so much as a second thought. It's impossible to set foot out your door without getting completely drenched—which isn't necessarily a bad thing because it's also the hottest time of the year, with temperatures most days easily reaching 100 degrees Fahrenheit.

Gearing up and preparing to go into battle

Though this holiday is certainly among the most bizarre we've experienced, it's roots are far more tame than current practice would lead you to believe. Historically—in fact, exclusively up until recently—people would celebrate Songkran by visiting their relatives, sharing meals and offering one another well wishes for the coming year. During these visits, it was customary for people to rinse clean the shrines in their relatives' yards, and also to pour a small amount of water over the feet of their elders, symbolically washing away the misdeeds of the previous year, and preparing them for the one to come. How exactly things evolved from there to the mandatory participation water wars that punctuate Songkran today, one can only guess. But however it came about, one thing is for certain: everyone celebrates, and everyone gets wet!

Here in Pai, we kicked off the New Year with a party for the kids at the Banyan Center. The first day of Songkran happened to fall on our last day of summer camp, so we invited the families to join us for some “celebrating.” We set up our station at the front gate and threw on our suits. All of our guests received a 'warm welcome' as they approached the school, and before long everyone was feeling cool and refreshed. The kids had a ball flinging cups of water on people as they passed by, and the yard was filled with their squeals and giggles (and maybe a few of ours, too) throughout the afternoon.

Over the next few days, we posted up with friends at various places around town, hanging out, relaxing, and 'preparing' other Pai residents—and occasionally each other—for the New Year. Admittedly, many people don't seem at all pleased about Songkran, or about getting water thrown at them, so we chose the 'friendly plan of attack' and tried not to dump water on people who appeared not to want it, however I can't say the same for everyone else. In fact, many people (Thais and foreigners alike) seem to view the holiday as an opportunity to take out their aggression in the name of “good fun”, and it's undeniable that some people take it too far. Every year throughout Thailand there are a stunning number of deaths related to Songkran, most of them occurring on roads and attributed to wet pavement, an inability to see, or the sheer force of the water causing an accident.

We've found that the best approach to Songkran is to drive slowly, keep all of our electronics safely double bagged, and just surrender ourselves to getting soaked. There's absolutely no point in trying to stay dry when, with every store you pass and every truck that drives by, you're more than likely going to have a bucket of water aimed at you. And make no mistake, we've done our fair share of songkran-ing ourselves! I mean, what's travel about if not participating in what's going on in the culture around you? ;)  

Spelunking

Tham Lod is a large, spectacular, natural limestone cave in Thailand's Mae Hong Son province. It sits nestled in the mountains near the border between Thailand and Burma, about eight kilometers outside of the town of Soppong. The Nam Lang River flows through the cave, the many 'rooms' of which are filled with impressive, ancient stalactites, stalagmites and columns. Last weekend, we were invited to join Beth and her visiting parents for a quick overnight trip to Cave Lodge, an iconic guesthouse which sits only a few hundred meters from the cave's entrance.

Sean an I left Pai Monday morning on our scooter, caravanning with another traveler-friend who we discovered also happened to be headed to Cave Lodge for the night. We planned to meet Beth and her parents—who were on their way up from Bangkok—at the lodge sometime in the afternoon. Soppong is about an hour away from Pai by car, but with the steep, windy roads, and our manually geared scooter, it took us a bit longer to get there. There were even a few points during the drive when our scooter, motor whirring, stopped dead on a hill and refused to go any further. We shared a good chuckle at one point when I was forced to get off and walk while Sean coaxed it up a particularly steep section of road. Our new friend Sam waited patiently at the tops of the hills for us, and the three of us eventually made it to the lodge.

Shortly after we arrived, we spotted another couple walking in who we'd made friends with in Pai. They had caught a bus that morning and were also planning to spend the next few days exploring the area around Soppong (in our experience, serendipity is a ruling factor in Thailand, and this sort of coincidence no longer surprises us). We hung for a while, talking and relaxing in the hammocks at the lodge. When the rest of the group arrived, Beth introduced us to her parents and the close family friends whom they were traveling with. It immediately proved true that 'more' really was 'merrier' as the eight of us we made our way down to the cave.

Tham Lod—also known as Lod Cave or Spirit Cave—was occupied by the Hoabinhian hunting tribe during the prehistoric era from about 9000BC to 5500BC. They were a stone age community of hunters and gatherers who used tools, made ceramics, domesticated plants, and created art—some of which you can still see in the cave.

If you look closely, you can see the faint outline of a deer in this picture taken inside the cave

We hired two guides with lanterns who led us to bamboo rafts which we would use to make our way along the stream and into the cave. Relishing the cool air, we situated ourselves on the rafts and prepared to enter. As we began floating down the stream and into Tham Lod, we noted its huge vaulted ceiling and numerous impressive formations. 

Beth, her parents, Sam, and one of our guides on a bamboo raft.

After a brief ride, the guides pulled our rafts up to a bank within the cave and we disembarked. Following them up several sets of rickety stairs, we explored the first of the caves three major 'rooms'. Each new area we entered was different from the ones before it, and we were continuously awed as we caught sight of the caves various structures.

Some of the rooms even contained a few well preserved teakwood coffins. These coffins, thought to have been carved by the Lawa tribespeople who also inhabited the area, date back thousands of years, and when discovered contained fragments of bone and pottery.

When we returned to the bamboo rafts to make our way to the cave's exit, our guides pointed out the many fish surfacing nearby. We lamented having not purchased the fish food that was for sale at the entrance as we passed by countless absolutely massive catfish and trout on our way down the last section of stream. Even in the dim light of the cave, we could see that most of them were well over sixteen inches long, and some were easily a shocking three feet or more in length (clearly they got plenty to eat and were no worse off for not having been fed by us!)

When we arrived at the exit of the cave, we were able to witness the impressive “Bird and Bat Show” which takes place there every day at dusk. As the sun sets each evening, an estimated half a million birds (swifts, to be precise) return to the cave to roost for the night while at the same time, thousands of resident bats leave the cave, where they've been sleeping all day. Not only do these two winged species harmoniously share the same living space, but they put on quite a show each evening when they trade places (and I presume each morning when they switch back as well, although there was no mention of a morning viewing). 

Feeling completely satisfied with our afternoon adventure, we headed back to Cave Lodge where we enjoyed an easy in-house dinner and the company of our temporary travel companions.

In the morning, Beth led her crew on to explore their next destination (Pai) while Sam, Sean and I decided to stick around for the day and check out another cave. We'd read in the literature at the lodge about “Christmas Cave”, which was a bit further off the beaten path, but still close enough for a day-trip. After getting the scoop from the staff at the lodge, and taking some snap shots of the maps on the wall showing how to find the cave, we set out. We rode our motor bikes up the road a few kilometers, keeping our eyes peeled for the landmarks on the maps. When we thought we might be in the right place, we parked our scooters, and began the hike in. Having recently read about the various kinds of poisonous and non-poisonous snakes of Thailand and their favorite habitats, I insisted we stick to the barely visable path, which did little to ease my mind about the possibility of one of us getting bitten. It was almost unbearably hot as we made our way across the field and up towards the “knob” where the cave entrance was located.

It took us a while to find it, but we eventually spotted what we thought might be the entrance, tucked away at the base of a large cliff. There was a rickety bamboo ladder peaking over the edge of a steep section of rock and leading down to what, from above, merely looked like a shallow overhang that a child might be able to squeeze underneath. With no clear indications that we'd found the right place (and in fact nothing whatsoever to reassure us that going down the ladder was the correct way to enter the cave) we retraced our steps a bit back to the trail, and attempted to search for one of the other two entrances shown on the map. After a few meters though, the trail abruptly ended, and (still wary of snakes) we were forced to either return to the ladder, or abandon our search all together. We decided to at least give it a shot, and Sean held the ladder firmly while Sam and I both climbed down (yes, in that order—no way was I going down first!)

 Once we'd determined that the hole was much larger than it looked from above, and we could, in fact, enter this way, Sean descended as well, the two of us steadying the ladder from the bottom. Now we were spelunking. We were all somewhat off-put when we discovered a second ladder leading the rest of the way to the entrance, but this one turned out to be far easier to navigate than the first.

By stepping carefully down the steep, gravel covered slope we were able to shine our lights into the cave and get a good look at many of it's formations. The columns near the entrance shinned brightly in reflection of our headlamps. Their millions of twinkling white crystals reminded me of a fresh dusting of snow on a sunny morning and, combined with the icicle-esque shape of many of the formations, were no doubt the reason for the cave's wintery name. Bats swooped over head, chattering at us incessantly for disturbing them from their inverted nap. Though we didn't feel comfortable venturing further inside for fear of sliding down the lose-dirt covered incline (or worse, not being able to get up it again) we stood for a while, enjoying our peek into the cavern and conversing about the marvels of caves—places none of us have spent much time visiting before.

After soaking in as much of the cave's cool, underground air as possible, we braved the heat and returned to the trail, making our way down to our scooters and back to the lodge. Dusty and hot, we enjoyed a quick dip in the river before heading back over the pass and 'home' to Pai.