We started out at the Karen tribe, the same tribe (just of a different region) that are also called "Longnecks" because of the elevated rings they wear around their necks, making their head dangerously far away from their shoulders. Anyhoo, these were not long-necked people: they were just regular folk. And so began the nagging suspicion that my presence was becoming a little exploitative of these Thai natives. Argh...I can't stand that feeling. We were taken by bus from our cozy hotel to this tribe about an hour southwest of Chiang Mai. We were ushered out of the bus where a university-educated tour guide told us all about the Karen people as they acted out what seemed to be a scene in their lives. It was strange to see them weave scarves as if they were doing it for show (and as it turns out, they were, because later, we were asked to buy them several times simply because we had seen them being made), and it was not a clear representation of their real lives. Those who know Battlefield house will know that those people who act out the 1800's do it as an acting gig: these people were just kind of on the brink of acting and living. Photographing them felt odd...both Leanne and I were a little creeped out. This was definitely exacerbated by the little boy at our feet who was shoving small bracelets ("handmade", I'm sure) in our faces, pouting up at us, "Five baht." Be still my heart. I didn't buy any (I guess my heart was still).
Here is what seemed to be a grandmother pushing her child in a hammock-turned-swing on her porch-slash-living room. The kid was emitting these peals of laughter though, which put a little smile in my heart, despite the nagging, you know, feeling of using the people.
Despite all these odd feelings, we were in and out of there pretty quickly. We scrambled to the top of the village as soon as we could and the view from the top kept on getting more and more spectacular. Here's an example of the typical house there in the tribe in the hills...
Ahhh...and at long last fields of rice and soybeans. They, intelligently, rotate the crops depending on what will garner more money at market. Aside from this financial incentive, the natives know that rotating is good for the crops. Some other Asian countries haven't yet caught on. Sigh.
Here's Leanne with the fields of gold in the background. It was a long, hot walk, but it was magnificent to actually see real farming in progress. I've yet to see that here in Korea. Word on the street (alright, in the guidebook) is that you can go on an organic rice farm and help the farmers out for a weekend to get to know how it's done. Perhaps when the weather gets a little more temperate, I'll look into it. For now, here's Thailand's version of sustainable farming:
We took a much-needed break at this lovely waterfall. I was the only one in the group to actually go in, though the water wasn't really all that cold. How many times are you going to be able to recall, "Oh, that waterfall I swam in in Thailand was so amazing"? Not many, that's how many.
The rock where Leanne and I were sitting is at the right of the picture below. The makeshift pub where everyone convened (instead of in the water) is up to the left, and at the middle left is the bridge that evoked in me the kind of odd false security reserved for dads and equally scared girlfriends in bad parts of town when there is no other choice. But we crossed 'er, baby. And we made it.
Then there's my travel companion, contemplating our sanity as she reflects on the engineering of the bridge. Rather, she may have been reflecting on what kind of natural disaster may have resulted in a tree falling just so to causing us to later think that crossing to the makeshift bar would be a good enough incentive to risk our lives, teetering above the medium-sized rapids below.
Finally, what we had been waiting for...the elephant trek! Here we are carefully positioned on our elephant. At first I felt weird stepping on his head (she turned out to be a female) to get on her back and further her exploitation, but when I saw the gentle way this man (who, notably, is sitting on her head) poked and prodded her to get her going and then the amazing way they treated them when it was high time for a water and food break, I knew that the poor little gaffer didn't even flinch when the weight of me and then Leanne squished her brow. Still, the guilty feeling was alleviated until much later.
While we were completely insecurely clinging to life on a two-seater on the shoulder region of the elephant, which was placed on a thick blanket, this gentleman, our elephant whisperer, was atop his (oops...HER...gender is so quickly misjudged in this part of the world) head. He was carrying this wooden stick that was about three feet long. At the end of the stick, a dull metal pick stuck out that reminded me of what you clean horse hooves out with. He used this pick to move the elephant along if she dilly-dallied along the way. Since ours was the last ride of the day and the day was still quite hot, she made quite a few stops along the way to the apex of the hill, where the whisperer disembarked so the elephants could drink. Being a bit hot though, these little creatures didn't just drink, but attempted to cool themselves down by blowing water on their backs (read: on us). Being that the trunk is both the nose and the blowhole for water, it was pretty much like she was blowing her nose on us for a few moments. Pretty, pretty disgusting.
Following the ride, as I said, were the extras that made the trip so special. We took a bamboo rafting ride from one end of the river to another, where the truck met us with all our things (read: our passports). I was petrified for a moment that for sure they'd steal my identity and we'd be sold into the sex trade, but low and behold, they picked us all up, right on schedule. Phew. Have you seen Taken?
The actual ride was amazing. The bamboo raft was about twelve feet long and four feet wide. We sat four people to a raft, about three feet apart, and a paddlerman (official title? Maybe not) stood at the front with a large stick to propel us through the not-more-than-two-feet-deep water. Every now and then, he'd yell, "Snake!" to give him and excuse to slap the water too close to us, causing a big splash to interrupt our quiet, fairly dry ride. It was a hoot. We also went down two little rapids which, on a delicate bamboo raft, seemed pretty, pretty large at the time. All the while Leanne was telling me to, "Hold on for dear life!" and I refused to. And then the impossible happened.
Here's how Leanne saw it: We went down the smaller of the waterfalls, I didn't hold on, I lost my balance, and then I fell into the water.
Here's how it really happened: The Paddlerman yelled (for the hundredth time), "Snake!" and looked to my right. Following his gaze, I realized there actually was a snake there. I was petrified, as, being a female, I don't care for snakes very much. I freaked out, tried to stand up on the bamboo raft, could not do so, lost my balance, fell into the water that was only about 8 inches deep, and then, realizing that now I was IN the water where the SNAKE WAS, I scrambled BACK onto the raft, further losing my balance, but ended up back on, standing up. The Paddlerman instructed me firmly to sit down and stop pulling him (I didn't realize I had been pulling him in any way...oops). Leanne missed the snake BUT I was fortunate that our other two travel companions, plus the Boss Man did NOT miss it. It was only the size of a garner snake, but by the time the boat docked and we got off, it was a boa constrictor. Funny how size is altered on boats, isn't it?
I scratched up my foot and my shin a little (like, a really little bit), but I was scared of course that I had some sort of river parasite growing in me. It was a gross thought...someone has to think of these things. After a few days, naturally, I was fine. But the image of that snake has been permanently embossed in my brain. A swimming SNAKE? No thank you, Thailand.
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