(received 2-12-99) Thailand - part 3 Let's start the second day with a description of the Tavee guesthouse. A backpacker's guesthouse is a common site in Thailand as there is a big market for them. They vie with each other, offering different things. One may have in-house Thai masseuses, another Internet access in the bar, another hot showers and air-conditioning. Most of them have a big screen TV going with a movie or MTV, nice and loud. Khao San road was lined with them. As you can guess, that was not what we were looking for. We joined the Peace Corps, right? We are here to suffer! So anyway, this place had been recommended as a place where PCVs stay, so it sounded good to us. And was it good. Set way back off the road, it was lost in a sea of other houses and low apartment buildings, quite and shaded from all but the noon sun. The entrance off the alley led into a courtyard full of hanging baskets of flowering lilies and a spirit house standing in one corner. The other corner had a small, tiled pool full of large goldfish, whose mouths stuck out of the surface of the water as they gulped about. It was quite fun to poke a finger in their mouths and watch them scatter in terror. The tiled floor felt good on your feet as you took off your shoes or sandals and put them on the communal storage shelf. If you had a common brand of sandals, you had to play the 'do they smell like mine?' game. Lots of wood trim carved in Thai patterns, small flags from countries all over the world and potted plants make it all cozy and pleasant. A table made from one large stump and four stools made from smaller stumps are a great place to eat breakfast - choose between yogurt, museli and fresh fruit or a large pancake covered with pineapple and banana covered in honey. In the admin/kitchen area is a circle of chairs and a sofa around a low table where we spent most of our time, talking with people and pouring over guidebooks and maps. That is also where the dangerous cooler was. 25 B would get you a delicious pineapple shake or an iced coffee. On the wall behind the counter was a large menu of the food offered, with descriptions and some pictures, all readily available from the friendly staff. The walls are covered with posters, advertisements and information about tours, treks, bus routes, places to stay. A bulletin board is full of business cards for guesthouses from all Asia: "Come and Stay with us in Friendly Vietnam!" Cards and letters with photos are posted, sent by satisfied customers now back home: "Mr. Tavee, we think of you often and warmly, here in cold, dreary England." Mr. Tavee and his family really go out of their way for you: free laundry service, taxi pickup, arranging tours and tickets, etc. Here is a great example that segues right into our second day. After taking a taxi (Metered! You don't have to argue or debate about the cost; it's the same for everybody, everywhere, what a concept!) to a discount souvenir place to see what they have so we can spot what we want while we travel (Joan bought two light weight, summer dresses that she couldn't resist. The saleswoman bargained low, saying that we would be the first sale of the day, which would bring luck. She took our money and touched all the piles of clothing with it to bring good fortune to her business), we went back to the guesthouse to go on a arranged canal tour. We thought the price of 300 B per person might be a little high, but what the hey. It turns out the cost actually is 300 B, so the free taxi ride that Mr. Tavee arranged was complimentary, as well as the 100 B he gave back with a whispered warning about the boat driver stopping in the middle of the tour and wanting more money to continue (he didn't). The taxi pulled away, and Mr. Tavee buzzed along next to us on his motor scooter. We thought he might have just been running an errand, but it turned out that he was escorting us to the dock and dealt with the people there and set it all up! Unlike most scooterists, he was wearing a helmet, but in a strange way. The chin strap had a little cup that is supposed to fit on the point of the chin. Well, he wore the cup over his nose. I figured out that it was stuffed with cotton and was acting as a filter for all the toxic exhaust fumes. We got our own long tail boat with driver. See the first photo of the negatives I sent. The name 'long tail' comes from the propeller shaft that extends way out behind the from a HUGE engine that sits at the rear of the boat, and the driver manhandles the whole rig around with a long pole/handle. This allows the boat to travel through shallow water and also spends up a large fan of water when at high speed. The canal tour seemed a bit pricey, but it was definitely worth it. Our boat took us across the river and into the mouth of a canal. For an hour and a half, we cruised along, enjoying the sunshine, sights, and smells. As you can see from the pictures, people live right on the water; most homes are only a foot or so above it. What do they do when it floods as it surely must in the rainy season? We saw people sitting with their feet hanging in the water, washing vegetables, clothes, children. However, I'm pretty sure that their toilets just drop into the same water! Sidewalks, cafes, stores lined some stretches of the canal. A grocery boat floated along, selling its wares to people on their porches or leaning out windows. Colorful laundry and flowers hung everywhere, adding a splash of brightness to the sun-faded wood. At most corners, a brightly painted spirit house sat on a tall, wooden pole. The are many, many spirit houses in Thailand. You see them in peoples homes or in stores. About two feet tall, quite ornate with arched windows and an open front, they are usually painted white and red. Walking past a dim store or motorcycle garage, you can seen a small shrine in the back with a Buddha bracketed by two electric candles, flickering red. At his feet is some kind of offering: a bottle of Fanta, a smoking cigarette, some fresh flowers woven into a garland. The spirit houses are to provide protection. A street corner where traffic accidents are common will have a large one. Skyscrapers will have one that was built during the construction to protect the workers and civilians. The best was traveling by bus or taxi and passing a 'garden 'supply' store with potted plants, huge, clay pots, and long rows of spirit houses for sale. Religion in Thailand is part of daily life; I get the feeling the don't worship on only Sundays in a 'church.' Buddha and all the other aspects of are integrated into everything people do: the jewelry, eating, decorations. Buses have a garland of fresh flowers woven hanging from the rear view mirror. Sliding around the corner of canal, we passed an open workshop full of hammering. Two men and a women were building white caskets with gold trim. They glanced at us as we glided by and returned to their work. About halfway through the trip, the driver pulled up to two, little old ladies floating there in little dugouts. Surprise! It was the 'let's stop the tour in a place where the tourists are trapped and guilt trip them into buying something' part of the tour. We resisted their overpriced, cheesy souvenirs, but I was weak and gave in to the offer of cold beer. I bought one, my first in Thailand, and of course, one for the driver. I suspect, however, that he was in cahoots with the ladies, and probably returned it back to them for a cut of the profits. However, the beer tasted good as we scooted along. We stopped at the snake farm, where for 100 B one could see cobras being milked, lots of other snakes and have your photo taken with a big, ol' python around the shoulders. We felt cheap and decided to not go in. Also, Joan is not a big snake fan and was a bit wide eyed about the whole idea. The toured stopped at Wat Arun (Temple of the Sun) on the river's edge, and we got out and looked around. (see photo of Joan and Paul standing next to a building plus the big monkey god with the sword). It is probably better that you just look at the photos then me try describe them. I know this is not fair to those who can't see the photos, but maybe some could be put on the web page. Needless to say, the architecture and decorations are fantastically ornate and beautiful - lots of gold foil, mirrors, jewel, and bright reds, yellows and greens. Back on land, we stopped at this little hole in the wall place for a cheap (20 B) curry. After the meal, I realized I had left my sunglasses in another restaurant we had looked at. I went back, expecting them to be gone or 'lost.' However, when I walked in, the proprietor broke out in a big smile and handed them over. I like Thailand! Then we toured Wat Pho (see the photos with the reclining Buddha - 119 feet long - and others; they all blend into one) for the afternoon. We declined the guide in a moment of cheapness but probably shouldn't have as there was no written guide or signs. We just wandered around and made oohing and aahing sounds to each other. A taxi ride through rush hour traffic - boy, can those little motor scooters scoot through the smallest gaps - took us back to the Tavee. Joan and Joe relaxed while I played chess with Graham, the ex-monk. After I kicked his butt, he asked me to teach him about chess, so we had a lively discussion and example game. An Israeli restaurant had been recommended to us, and a change of food sounded really good, even though we couldn't get enough Thai food. Surprisingly enough, there were two Israeli places side by side. We were told the one that looked like a dive was better, and the crowd of people sitting on plastic stools, crowded around plastic covered tables was a good indicator. The other place looked more refined with wood furniture and table clothes but only had a few customers. They had really good falafel, hummus, babaganoos, and fries, plus the best pineapple shakes in town. We ate a lot. On the way back, we stopped in a local supermarket - culture shock! It felt just like home, except that we couldn't read anything and could only guess at what most things were. Joan wanted some deodorant but could only find little glass bottles of flowery stuff. Where was the manly Speed Stick, the Mennen!? Back at the Tavee, we sat around and talked to Graham about becoming a Buddhist monk. He had spent six months studying Thai, about six hours a day with private tutors and then would go to a local pool hall and hang out with the toughs there, learning how to swear and being made fun of for his bad Thai. After this, he 'enrolled' to become a monk at the Wat. Now I understand that there are two types of monks, two ways to become a monk. The first and easiest is a becoming a monk for 'merit.' This, for locals, can be done in a day and for everyone, but is done for more earthly reasons. If a child becomes a monk for merit, the parents are 'saved,' even though the religion doesn't really have a 'save' feature - perhaps a pass to Nirvana? Professional people will become 'monks' because it is good for their reputation or business. I am not quite clear on all the details, but it seemed that this was not really looked upon with pleasure by the 'real' monks and others. Also, monks are supposed to take vows of poverty and reject material things. However, due to changes in culture, some problems are arising. Traditionally, when someone dies, monks are invited to come and pray for the departed person so he or she will make a proper transition. In earlier times, monks received gifts from the family: something for the temple or a new robe, a begging bowl, etc. Now with the modern 'money' culture, the most important thing that people can give is money. This can cause problems with temples getting too much money or with monks keeping it for themselves. They are not supposed to touch money, so they have someone else deposit in a bank account. Graham said that many monks come from very poor parts of Thailand and the money is irresistible, especially if the monk's family is destitute or the monk is thinking about college later in life. In Thailand, there is a rather heated national debate about monks and temples doing things for 'merit.' The second way to become is more 'real.' I don't know what they call it, but it usually involves years of study under an older monk, until he says you are ready. As everyone becomes a 'monk' at a young age, Graham had a very difficult time convincing people he was a novice monk at the age of 24. It took him about two years to be accepted. After awhile, he realized that he had wanted so badly to become a monk, that he had lost sight of whether or not it was a good idea for him and his life. He discovered that the true life of a monk is not what he wants and has decided to return to graduate school. A very interesting man.