everywhere in between

One of the highlights of many visitors’ trips to Laos, Thailand, or other Southeast Asian countries is the opportunity to visit one of the local tribes. These opportunities range from a 10-minute pass-through to an overnight stay as part of a trek organized by tour companies ranging from the eco-conscious to the profit-hungry. Knowing full well that these visits have the potential to be both a trip to the human zoo in addition to an interesting cultural exchange, Ed and I signed up for a two-day trek through several villages with an overnight stay in one. The trek we chose was a new one–we were only the third group to go. In my mind, this might be better fodder for cultural exchange.

The village we stayed in, Ban Sida, is one of two Sida (ethnic group) villages in Laos. It is accessible only by foot– a good couple of hours from Luang Namtha, the provincial capital of the eponymous province (province population roughly 140,000!). We entered Ban Sida through fluorescent green rice fields punctuated by brown bamboo huts on stilts, passing along the way Sida women soundlessly wading through the small river gathering river weed to eat (it’s quite good, fried with garlic and accompanied with beer!). Up a hill, over a bridge consisting of a wooden plank, and into the village, colored in various shades of brown.

We visited the school and the rice stores, watched/participated in takraw (like volleyball) and stayed in the home of one of the chiefs with his wife and four kids. We learned that the town is essentially based on subsistence farming, growing enough rice to live on and supplementing their diet with plants gathered from the forest and their livestock (unbearably, this includes dogs in addition to pork and chicken). A few of the wealthier houses had tin roofs and one lightbulb. None had running water– the closest thing to running water was the pump in the center of the village, cold water only. Villagers wore a range of clothes, from local styles, to imported pants and shirts, all hard to keep clean in the dirt and dust. Many kids were in bare feet, a sharp contrast to my feet that were double-swathed in SmartWool socks.

The chief (one of three in the village) was beyond hospitable. He cooked dinner for us and ate with us, answering questions and asking a few of his own to the group (where are we from? married or single? children?). While our interaction with the village was limited mainly to the chief, due to translation difficulties (all tribes have their own language, though some know Lao), the villagers treated us with a mixture of blank curiosity (stares) and friendliness, as we did in return.

In my opinion, this type of tourism brings with it odd feelings. To its credit, it brings vital income to the villages, who are keen to access the amenities of modern life and provides for cultural meeting points between two equally curious cultures. Done right, it allows visitors to put their own lifestyle and abilities in context (who of us would be able to survive in the forest?) and give the villagers exposure to ideas and income beyond their tiny boundaries (many use the money to buy blankets as well as VCD players to watch movies).

However, this type of tourism seems unsustainable. Visitors will continue to demand an authentic tribal experience and villagers will pursue their quest to move on up. As a result these visits have the potential to devolve into cookie-cutter commercial ventures requiring villagers to be “authentic” in order to make the money and lifestyle that could move them beyond being a human curiosity, frustrating the anthropologically curious tourist in the process.

Outside of the U.S., Laos seems to have the biggest cars. This comes as a surprise because I thought that a poor country like Laos would be driving leftover Chinese cars. Not so– there are many pick-up trucks, some SUVs and I’ve even seen a hummer. While few people own cars (roughly 4/1000 people), those people and companies who do own opt for larger ones with 4 wheel drive out of necessity, it seems–driving anywhere in Laos requires off-roading.

The distance between Houei Xai (at the Thai border) and Luang Namtha (a few hours from China) is roughly 100 miles. The journey, taken by a top-heavy bus, weaves through through the jungle on a red dirt track where anything that moves kicks dust into the air. This 100 mile journey took seven hours to complete.  Yes, seven hours.  Yet this road is a vital step forward for Laos, as it will become an international highway linking China, Laos, Thailand, and Burma. Two decades from now, the sleepy town of Luang Namtha, where I disembarked, will likely be a booming trade city.

This road seems to epitomize Laos’ spring forward. Until the 1990’s, Laos was relatively isolated from the rest of the world. Only within the past decade has it begun experimenting with trade and tourism on a global scale. As a result, the country is remarkably under-developed, with hundreds of villages accessible only by foot or by boat. The road infrastructure is a combination of paved surfaces and bumpy dirt roads, with the latter being much more prevalent. Yet cutting through the country will soon be a major roadway that will cement Laos at the center of burgeoning regional trade.

Laos’ story could be a rags to riches one, and if it plays its cards right, it can learn from the mistakes of neighboring countries and become a relatively wealthy country without losing its pristine environment and laid-back character. Like the road system, the tourism industry is jumping from non-existent to major Southeast Asian destination. And the country seems wary of repeating the crass commercialism of high-volume tourism that has wrecked havoc on the nature and culture in parts of neighboring Thailand. Many of Laos’ major “cities” have eco-tourism operators, founded with the express purpose of harnessing the tourists’ lucrative dollars in a low-impact fashion. Relative to the number of stores in town, many cooperatives have been established, providing high-quality textiles and handicrafts produced by local artisans, including the handicapped.

Of course, it is impossible to control development, especially in Laos where people are hungry for dollars and the opportunities that they hopefully bring. For each eco-tourism office, there are others springing up, emulating the eco-tours in theory, just probably not in practice. However, for the discerning tourist, there are remarkable opportunities to put one’s money to good use.

As long as one can stand to journey by road…

Like many religions or beliefs, Buddhism has a special location for worship– the temple, or wat.  Like other religions, the wat houses sacred images and/or relics.  And like other religions, the wat is a complex with schools for religious instruction, rooms for those studying, and services for the larger community. 

However, the wat has a different feel from many religious places I’ve been to.  At one wat, a couple of men were jogging around the complex, their athletic gear making an interesting contrast to the shaved heads and orange robes of the monks.  At another, people were playing basketball on a court inside the complex.  At larger wats, vendors sell even from carts to the people constantly filtering in and out.  Often, there is a place for massage at or near the wat, and one wat that I am now particularly partial to had an herbal steam sauna! 

In many ways, the wat seems to exemplify the spirit of religion–not only is it a place for monks to train and reach a higher spiritual place, but it seems to serve, more than any place in Thailand (except for, perhaps, the markets) as a place for the community.  I believe this is due to the style of worship particular to Buddhism, as well as the role of monks in Thai society.  Worship in Buddhism, at least in Thailand, is not formal.  People come to the wat whenever they like and quickly pray.  There are no long services involved, making worship completely individual.  Secondly, all Thai males become a monk at some point in their lives.  For most, the length of service is one month, others as short as a week.  Regardless of the length of time served, every male member of every household in Thailand has spent time in a wat.

Furthermore, the wat is a good choice for education.  One young monk I spoke with is studying Buddhism and English.  He chose a monastic education because of cost– it is far cheaper (1,500 Thai Bhat/semester– about $50) than other universities.  And many wats have “Monk Chats” such as the one where I met this monk– an open conversation with monks about anything, providing the tourist a personal insight into Buddhism and the monks a chance to practice their English.

The wat, and Buddhism in general, seem to be doing something right.  The openness and accessibility that I’ve seen seem to be in sharp contrast to the denial and dogma that dominate other religions.  Of course there are rules in Buddhism, but the emphasis seems to be on personal development rather than rigid adherence to rules.  In this climate of hyper-charged religious fanatics, I think we could all use a little Buddhism.

During my previous travel, I’ve been fortunate enough to either

1) be a guest of someone living in the country and fluent in or familiar with the language; 2) been living in the country myself and been familiar with the language; or 3) been in a place where English is somewhat, if not the dominant language. 

Of course, I didn’t realize this until coming to Thailand.  In fact, I’ve always fancied myself a rather savvy traveler who could easily be taught a few words of the local language by a friend or a book.

Welcome to Thailand.  To be sure, English is widely spoken here and is what I use to communicate save a “hello” and “thank you” in Thai.  But levels of proficiency for most Thais are often basic, and launching directly into English is not the way I would like to be presenting myself.  But I do.  I’ve become that person with the unilingual m.o. that I never wanted to be.  However, short of learning Thai, this is the only alternative, and in many ways, it is not a bad one.

English is truly a global language.  From tourists communicating with local hosts, to travelers passing tips and stories amongst themselves, it is the go-to language.  All signs directed at tourists are in English and woe to the person who does not understand English food descriptions.

This ubiquitous English use reinforces either interconnectivity or isolation, depending on who you are.  Those English-speakers from non-English speaking countries are at a distinct advantage to their non-English speaking peers.  They can go almost anywhere in the world and communicate with most people they meet.  For those native English speakers who do not know another language, however, the effect is isolating and debilitating, putting the control of our communication in the hands of others. 

Furthermore, I’ve found that unilinguistic travel often confines travelers to spaces that use English– a lost opportunity for understanding other cultures in many ways from the physical venturing beyond the English zone to the cultural indicators that language provides (Russian, for example, has many different words for friend, emphasizing degree of closeness.  And in Thai, I’ve been told, the word for “no” is “not yes” giving one a sense of the Thai disposition toward negative news).

In my opinion, English as the lingua franca has immense benefits as it really opens the doors to communicating with diverse people.  However, native English speakers have a unique challenge that is easy to miss– learning another language when it is so easy not to. 

While the recent coup is the political talk outside of Thailand, in-country it seems as though the only political system that matters is the monarchy.  Thailand is home to King Bhumibol Adulyadej, who is the world’s longest serving current head of state.  And people here love their king.

Today (December 5th) is his birthday and the celebrations that have been visible since I arrived on Saturday are reaching their zenith (I think.  I hope).  Everyone here is wearing a yellow shirt, which is the color associated with Monday, the day of the week on which he was born.  Bangkok’s population has increased with the busloads of people who have come from near and far to be here for his big day.   Around the city, tents are set up with tables, chairs, and buffets– free food for all, donated by the King.

When asked why people love their King so much, one woman said that he is in touch with the people and can propose solutions unencumbered by politics.  He has apparently proposed solutions for traffic problems and understands the difficulties heaped on people in the wake of the 2004 tsunami.  He is also a patron of the arts, well-traveled, and a world-class  clarinetist to boot.

While all this seems a bit like Mr. Roger’s “Land of the Make Believe,” there is a truism here.  Whether elected, appointed, or seizing power by force, people love and respect those leaders with leadership qualities– empathy, intelligence, and an appreciation for the world around them.  And as the U.S. is shows, it seems that no political system has perfected the system of producing those leaders.

Long Live the King! …

It’s that time of year– stressing about the annual gift giving that accompanies a couple of religions’ major holidays. 

If I may, I’d like to offer a suggestion to those who are fresh out of meaningful ideas: redirect the gift to those who have nothing in the name of the person with everything.

On the way to the airport in Delhi, my cab was unable to stop at a traffic light without being hounded by small children, old men, young mothers, and others all looking for some food or money.  Not wanting to condone begging in the middle of a four-lane road, especially for the kids, nor believing that this is the best way to change things, I thought I might use my blogging platform to encourage others to give some money to organizations that can help.  The following links are for non-profits that I’ve briefly vetted. 

http://www.forgottenchildren.net/index.htm (US 501(c)(3) tax deductible)

http://www.giveindia.org/give/common/genfaq.jsp  (For US Tax Payers:
u/s 501(c)(3) only if you donate through the partner website, Give World)

http://www.childhaven.ca/ourstory.htm

While there’s no panacea for the widespread poverty in India and the rest of the world, doing nothing means just that, and in India even giving a little translates into big gains. 

I’ll add more links when I can so keep checking…

I’m not quite sure why most vehicles in India are equipped with sideview mirrors– they seem to be angled in such a way as to provide the driver with a glimpse, perhaps, of his own face or that of his passengers.  What they are definitely not used for is to see if anyone is approaching or passing on the side. 

Why would they?  India has developed an ingenious system that makes full use of the horn that we in the States so often neglect.  Instead of honking when someone cuts you off (how rude!), the Indians use their horn to give a loud extended honk to tell a driver up ahead that they are passing.  All. The. Time.  Many trucks even have brightly painted instructions on the back of their trucks of “Horn Please” to ensure the constant reminder that, yes!, there are other vehicles on the road. 

The system seems to work, though I have almost inadvertently fallen out of a rickshaw on several occasions when a truck would sneak up behind us and suddenly lay on his horn…  But, after all, what’s a little noise pollution in the midst of terrible air pollution?

Common to this part of the world are problems caused by lack of water.  Its scarcity is seen in the build-up of grime, the buckets in the bathrooms (for sponge baths), empty river and lake beds, and in domestic and international conflicts.

I’ve tried to quell my anger at the filth that is inescapable in India because I’ve realized that my simplistic solution of “why don’t they just wash it off” does not apply in a country where water is so hard to come by.  I’m unclear as to whether it’s high prices or dry taps that keep water usage under relative control– washing things is done sparingly, if at all.  What I have heard, however, is that India’s expanding tourism industry–a boon to the economy in so many ways– brings with it millions of water-hungry westerners for whom daily showers are practically a right (rite?).  Try as I may, I have yet to choose a sponge bath if a shower if present.

In the Jaipur region (about 5 hours from Delhi) several forts call to mind the elementary school exercise of “what’s wrong with this picture?”.  Imagine a serenely beautiful palace (for that’s what these forts really are) perched in or above a lake-sized patch of dirt, with banks clearly delineated, and often small pools of residual dirty water from which a few intrepid locals still try to fish.  This is the scene I saw at a couple of Jaipur’s palaces, and dried up rivers and pond banks are visible throughout the region.  According to several people, the cause is the lack of a big monsoon during the past few years.

The problems that accompany lack of water are more than personal and transcend quality of life issues.  They are ‘ability of life’ issues and are at the root of many conflicts, both domestic and international.  Currently, two districts in the south of India are in dispute because Tamil Nadu, owner of a dam in the Kerala district, wants to raise dam levels to dangerous heights.  Their desire is understandable– the dam provides water to three districts, and is in high demand.  Kerala’s position is also understandable.  Should the dam collapse as a result of high water levels, those living in the vicinity of the dam could be in a dangerous flood path.   And then there are the dissenters, such as people living in Tamil Nadu who fear losing all their water in the attempt to gain a little bit more. 

India’s dam building is also ruffling feathers internationally.  The Indus River and its tributaries flow through both India and Pakistan, as well as the disputed region of Kashmir.  The Indus Water Treaties of 1960 specified which country could use which water and for what purposes (eg India could not use some of the Indus’ tributaries for irrigation at the expense of downstream Pakistan).  However, India is currently constructing the Baglihar Dam on the Chenab River in the Indian controlled part of Kashmir.  It seems that depending on whom you speak with, you’ll get different answers as to whether this violates the Indus Water Treaties, with Pakistan seeing the construction as a poaching of their upstream waters.

This problem is not unique to India and its neighbors.  Rapidly growing populations and expanding economies make for thirsty places.   I’ve heard that the Persian Gulf is becoming increasingly salty as Dubai (and other Emirates?) use desalinization processes of the Gulf to obtain potable water.   And Turkey’s Southeast Anatolia Project that involves the contruction of 21 dams and 17 hydroelectric power plants (source:wikipedia) comes at the price of angering downstream neighbor, Iraq.

It’s quite easy to take many of our resources for granted– for us at home the worst is typically the water bills that must be paid.  In other places the situation is much more dire, affecting quality of life and instigating conflicts.