tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13829399900354855402024-03-21T21:23:37.137+00:00Life in AsiaLife in Asia started in Singapore in 2008, then moved to Hong Kong in 2009. Along the way my life with Khamma flourished and we built our home in Thailand. Life moved back to England, but my life took a new turn in 2010.................The Thamuang Farang.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16259640085239432367noreply@blogger.comBlogger179125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-62536893675236957342015-02-01T11:02:00.002+00:002015-02-01T11:02:46.622+00:00What's Changed?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I was apprehensive about the journey back to Thailand and Thamuang village. Just over a year ago, when I was taken ill and hospitalised, I had already checked in with KLM 'on-line' for my post Christmas flight to Thailand. What followed then was a series of events amounting to a long story over a short period of time. For the three weeks I was supposed to be in Thailand with Khamma, I spent my time in three different Manchester hospitals. Instead of me going to Thailand, Khamma came to England for five months to nurse me back to health. I will always be indebted to her loving care and attention. Despite the circumstances, or because of them, we grew closer than ever. <br />
I worked hard, encouraged by Khamma, and regained weight, some kind of fitness and desire to do all the rights - just as before. No change there then!<br />
Last week was like a re-enactment of the events from twelve months ago. Flash backs to events involving ambulances, hospital wards and worst of all; operations. I was repeating pre-flight preparations; packing, check in, going through the 'to do' list. A repeat of the same actions hoping for a different result. <br />
I didn't sleep at all on the ten hour flight from Amsterdam and arrived in Ubon Ratchathani exhausted exactly seventeen hours from leaving Manchester. No dramas, no suspicious pains or missed heart beats. What exactly should I be worried about?<br />
The first changes? Khamma was there to greet me with a smile as wide as the Asian continent. It's great to be with her again. For the first time she arrives at the airport in her new car. She learnt to drive last year and passed he test first time. We then bought a car, which will make a huge difference to our time together.<br />
The second change?<br />
During October last year, the passenger hall at Ubon airport was gutted by fire. Passengers are diverted into a temporary facility. In Thai terms, this counts as a recent fire, and a new passenger hall will eventually be built.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Th-LXFJpfIeRrWiIT7Ex4m-CiO1vt5bPFu2rWygiqlXPjX72L2DBCmwPdpmWmXspeBSNBFvPQMDc5epRrAAbBPdo7PXmYL6ETp5N7XqniflPXxtZUhVjUkLq08XKbMGvSfGbGZB17tKG/s1600/test.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Th-LXFJpfIeRrWiIT7Ex4m-CiO1vt5bPFu2rWygiqlXPjX72L2DBCmwPdpmWmXspeBSNBFvPQMDc5epRrAAbBPdo7PXmYL6ETp5N7XqniflPXxtZUhVjUkLq08XKbMGvSfGbGZB17tKG/s1600/test.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a>Other changes? Apart from the new car (a Honda City), Khamma project managed a car port, a re-furbished Thai kitchen and the installation of air-con in the bed room.<br />
All these changes upgraded Owerhouse from five star to fire star deluxe!<br />
I had arrived, needed a rest but ready for a break - at last.<br />
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The Saddleworth Willwriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136522639613857848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-14357926297928482302015-02-01T03:15:00.002+00:002015-02-01T03:17:26.116+00:00Twelve months on<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's now a little over twelve months since my heart by-pass operation. Slowly I am looking towards the future rather than looking backwards to the past. It's no use saying 'and what might have been', because what might have been, in this case, was an abrupt end. An end like an unfinished symphony. An end of without warning. An end too soon.<br />
It's a long story, but it only lasted a short time. One minute there is no problem and I am enjoying the pleasurable things in the little world I have made for myself. Then literally in the next minute everything is turned upside and shaken up in a maelstrom of uncertainty leaving me with a clichéd notion of a life changing experience, an experience that is not welcome.<br />
Might sound dramatic, but from running a five kilometre road race to ending up in A&E and not allowed to move for 48 hours, then being told I have a 90% blockage in one artery and significant blockages in two others, which cannot be treated through medication, cannot be dealt with by stents and only by-pass surgery will give me any chance of avoiding a serious heart attack. Gulp. Well how dramatic does it have to be?<br />
I was totally (totally) unprepared for this. I had no idea there was a problem until I experienced an unusual heart rhythm.<br />
In the end I had five arteries by-passed. I have heard of three and four, but five! Why me? My doctors say I was lucky. I don't feel all that re-assured, but I should be.<br />
The plumbing around my heart is presumably healed satisfactorily. I have not had any internal pain or scary moments when 'things don't feel right'. The healing of my chest wounds has taken some time and I still get the occasional twinge from unhealed nerve endings. <br />
The real problem is inside my head.<br />
Doctors can check the plumbing, people can associate with the pain of opening up the chest and sticking it back together with a staple gun, but only the individual can feel the psychological pain. The nagging doubt, the need for re-assurance, the craving for an injection of confidence to make the monkey climb down from my back.<br />
Physically I am jogging, cycling and enjoying exercise about four times a week, but I am in a constant battle with my mind. My internal control centre is monitoring every heart beat, checking for unusual pain, observing heart rate, training zones and fitness. All the time wondering if, when and where I will have another 'silent heart attack'.<br />
My emotions are very close to surface. For reasons I cannot explain I become overwhelmed when I talk about the operation. I cannot let go of the trauma, because trauma it is. I don't think it is like the post traumatic stress disorder of fighting in a war, but it is post traumatic stress and it is silent, hidden and lies in wait to catch me off guard. It needs to come out so I can move on with a greater confidence and assurance. It needs to come out so I don't have emotional moments when talking with people who have genuine concern. It needs to come out so I can forgive the handful of friends who have not found their own strength to offer support when I need it most.<br />
I have touched the cornerstone of my life and realised it could have been over much too soon. <br />
I need to move on.<br />
I am in Thailand for the first time in sixteen months. Life in Asia and Thamuang goes on. My Life Goes On - same same!<br />
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The Saddleworth Willwriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136522639613857848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-12949816546110778642014-03-22T20:47:00.002+00:002014-03-22T20:47:14.727+00:00A visit to Ubon Ratchathani general hospital<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Having driven many hundreds of kilometres, we arrived in Ubon Ratchathani. En route, Khamma learned that one of her many cousins had been admitted to the general hospital for a serious operation on his stomach. We decided to call in to wish him well and hopefully raise his spirits.<br />
This was my first visit to a Thai general public hospital, the equivalent of the UK National Health Service. I have heard many stories about being a patient in a Thai general hospital and how families can stay for the duration to look after them and tend to their needs. In the UK this is usually the job of the medical staff and members of the family are confined to certain hours in which to visit.<br />
Thailand has a private medical service, which is excellent and apparently cheaper than the UK. In fact in Bangkok there is a thriving 'medical tourist' industry for all sorts of operations from nose jobs to surgical operations and procedures.<br />
A few months ago, a Farang friend from the next village was knocked off his motorbike and very close to being killed. He ended up in Ubon's general hospital. Late in the evening his friend arrived, took one look at his injuries, discharged him and took him to the private hospital. In the end my friend's leg was rebuilt and he made a good recovery. It was expensive but because the private hospital had more resources, he had a much better outcome than the one he would have had in the general hospital.<br />
When we arrived at Ubon general hospital we entered reception, which was a large hall with many rows of chairs fixed together and to the floor. There was a notional waiting system, but, once called ("eventually" according to Khamma) patients are transferred to the next hall to wait for attention. In this hall some people were already on beds; some with drips, some in pain, some sleeping, some just staring into space, all of them sick.<br />
At the end of the hall was a corridor leading to the wards. Medical staff milled about; some looking intent on their work, some eating lunch, some just sitting. <br />
The corridors were busy with the hussle and bussle of medical staff and members of the public. Everyone was scurrying off somewhere but I looked around and took it all in.<br />
One patient (I could not tell if it was male, female, young or old or even alive or dead!) was being man handled into the back of a pick up truck. The family piled in as well and off it went. <br />
There was building construction site in the middle of the hospital and in a small space next to the rubble and cement mixers was a family eating lunch! The canteen was only 20 metres away, but, to be honest it did not look very inviting especially as I was standing in a corridor that passed the open windows of the kitchen where the cooking smells mingled with those of the hospital.<br />
By now I was feeling like a rabbit in the headlights (probably looking like one as well!). We entered the lift, and my senses were brought back to temporary normality. Arriving at the ward we saw patients lying in their beds next to the lift door. As we passed by I felt sorrowful eyes fix on me as a foreigner and a distraction to their discomfort. We walked along the corridor to the ward entrance. There were no outside windows, just an open space to let the outside air circulate through, although it was as earring 35degrees plus. The view from here was the building site and canteen.<br />
Inside the ward were at least twenty beds with all manner of sick people. I thought if I were in here, it would be difficult to get better.<br />
We found Khamma's cousin by the lift. We had missed him first time around. He seemed OK. His wife was there to look after him and his sister was asleep on a chair. They keep him company between his sleeps and give him drinks, which is vital in the heat. The nursing staff are busy elsewhere. The space between each bed was about 18 inches, and not enough to create some privacy. The visitor to the patient in the next bed was almost sitting on Khammas cousin's bed.<br />
This was certainly an interesting experience into a Thai hospital.<br />
On my return to England there was great debate about the state of several failing NHS hospitals including one in Greater Manchester, not far from where I live. It did make me think that if I was ever taken ill, I would prefer to be in England, whichever hospital was the nearest. <br />
Little did I know that experience was nearer than I thought!<br />
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The Saddleworth Willwriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136522639613857848noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-21972305895575518732013-09-22T17:29:00.002+01:002013-09-28T09:54:27.665+01:00Driving Like 'An Idiot Abroad'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Overall we travelled over 5,000 kilometres, but I couldn't get used to driving Thailand style. At times I felt like I was whinging a la Karl Pilkington on the excellent TV series 'An Idiot Abroad', but I did feel I was in an unreal situation and I had definitely applied my Englishness to the situation.<br />
Top Ten Whinges and bum clenching moments:<br />
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<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>Driving on a super wide road with two lanes in each direction and a generous 'hard shoulder' for motorbikes. The road markings are clear with a wide hatched area marking the centre of the road. I am in the inside lane, a motorbike coming towards me on the hard shoulder, one car overtaking on the outside lane and a car overtaking that one travelling on the wrong side of the road, with a car coming head on towards it. Emergency braking keeping in the inside lane to allow cars to avoid head on smash.</li>
<li>Travelling in the inside lane and a truck turning in to the lane from a side road. Thai traffic law allows you turn left if there is no oncoming traffic, but clearly this truck had another interpretation. Rapid emergency braking in a straight line to avoid collision.</li>
<li>Tailgating on bendy roads.</li>
<li>Lane weaving - overtaking, undertaking, overtaking, undertaking.</li>
<li>Driving on a wide dual carriage which is narrowing into one lane. Pick up truck coming in opposite direction cannot wait for the road to widen, pulls over into my narrowing lanes to overtake another car. Rapid avoidance to avoid head on collision.</li>
<li>Double lines in the middle of the road indicating a bend and (usually) do not overtake or drift over the lines, because of danger of cars approaching in the opposite direction. Thai drivers ignore this in a game of 'death wish', usually with me having to taking avoiding action.</li>
<li>In general the roads are in good condition, but there are areas of road churning up by overloaded trucks and pot holes, sometimes deep and wide, lying in wait to test the suspension and shock absorbers to their limits.</li>
<li>Urban motorbikers weaving between cars in heavy traffic. Great on UTube; hairy moments for an idiot abroad.</li>
<li>Rural motorbikers riding without tail lights at night.</li>
<li>Endless police check points for no apparent reason.</li>
</ol>
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Having said that, there are some great points:</div>
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<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>Parking is free everywhere</li>
<li>Petrol is about 37 bhat per litre; which is £0.75 per litre. (UK is £1.35 per litre)</li>
<li>Petrol attendants to fill up the tank</li>
<li>Can turn left on a red traffic light IF the road is clear.</li>
<li>There is a lack of road rage because Thai people are non aggressive and the windows in every car are heavily tinted so you cannot see what gestures are coming your way, and the air conditioning keeps people cool</li>
</ol>
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But best of all was the sat nav in my Nokia Lumia 825. This simple easy to use app saved us from getting lost several times.</div>
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The Saddleworth Willwriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136522639613857848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-85537246912682785902013-09-12T15:50:00.000+01:002013-09-28T09:53:17.690+01:00Thai Drums<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It was not long after building 'Owerrrouse' that Khamma introduced me to the village band. Not the ageing rockers of England style, nor the brass band of Diggle, but the Thamuang Glong Neiow - the traditional Issan village drum band. Most villages have a band and I am reliably if not impartially advised that Thamuang is pretty good. See these previous posts<br />
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<a href="http://lifeinasiaandthamuang.blogspot.com/2009/04/drumming-up-funds-for-temple-and.html">http://lifeinasiaandthamuang.blogspot.com/2009/04/drumming-up-funds-for-temple-and.html</a><br />
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<a href="http://lifeinasiaandthamuang.blogspot.com/2011/07/ubon-ratchathani-candle-festival-16.html">http://lifeinasiaandthamuang.blogspot.com/2011/07/ubon-ratchathani-candle-festival-16.html</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X3MHo4RJTaA">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X3MHo4RJTaA</a><br />
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Since then, back in England, I have started to master the bodhran (Irish drum) and I aspire to become more proficient, but that's another story. The point is, my interest in drumming has increased and I don't need an excuse to tap out a rhythm on a steering wheel or dinner table - its an age thing really and latent desire to be a pop star. Anyway on browsing through the tourist literature at Ayutthaya, Khamma came across a village renowned internationally for the quality of its Thai drums. Using my sat nav, I found it was only 30 minutes away and there was no excuse for missing an opportunity. The village is called Ban Bang Phae and a quick Google found other encouraging references that made it inevitable we would call in on our way home.<br />
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The lady in the sat nav guided us straight there without a problem. Ban Bang Phae is a linear village and on a quick drive through, we could see at least 10 shops selling a all sizes of drums and even at 9am there was a lot of drum making activity.<br />
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We settled on a shop where the owner was pleased and proud to take us on a guided tour of his 'factory'. In Thailand there is always a sense that nothing is thrown away, there is a permanent temporariness over old bits of machinery, wood, old paint tins etc. I am all for re-cycling, but if it can't be utilised within six months, there is an argument it cannot be used at all. In Thailand where there are bits of stuff lying around, there is hope it has a use for something unknown; eventually! Such is the scene in our friends drum factory - old lathes, bits of wood, nails and skins all lying around in a mess. But out of the mess rises a beauty. A lot of drums from this factory are made to order - especially for Japan and the USA.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOcyC4A9-DSovbz5zI0VwD4PZ2VoHxkoe9eeyGw9L3VRAtP43g05rbPjvwR66967aULZLBC0iG9G3AjzAjthxb5AthpnGTVXHhyxXMCt_VZKpCvvjWdAgD6-FXXCNbKqyQsCVeIUzEE5eM/s1600/IMG_5164+(768x1024).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOcyC4A9-DSovbz5zI0VwD4PZ2VoHxkoe9eeyGw9L3VRAtP43g05rbPjvwR66967aULZLBC0iG9G3AjzAjthxb5AthpnGTVXHhyxXMCt_VZKpCvvjWdAgD6-FXXCNbKqyQsCVeIUzEE5eM/s320/IMG_5164+(768x1024).jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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The drum base is cut on a lathe from local soft wood. It is dried in a kiln for several days. The construction of the kiln is typical of Thai ingenuity. The pictures show a fire and on close inspection you can see a chimney which directs the heat into the kiln. <br />
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The kiln is similar to old container found on a container ship and it can hold a lot of drum.<br />
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The drum skin is cured cowhide, buffalo or even sheepskin. Some drums have the retained the hair, some have it removed. It is left to dry in the sun and when ready a template is used to cut the skin to the exact size required for the particular drum. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2-4RKIUxNozCmPLgy1lgX8uASl1WMtdLUkGWYcaUHhVqgK0Qb6P-D9gQGvEayPquoJBUGqnyYLIaNoWoOy47-eQM7pDD8lgTOBFq1pGHd4WrpkYby3l30M84xIdmW-3RAGUt6muRRrvmw/s1600/IMG_5165+(768x1024).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2-4RKIUxNozCmPLgy1lgX8uASl1WMtdLUkGWYcaUHhVqgK0Qb6P-D9gQGvEayPquoJBUGqnyYLIaNoWoOy47-eQM7pDD8lgTOBFq1pGHd4WrpkYby3l30M84xIdmW-3RAGUt6muRRrvmw/s320/IMG_5165+(768x1024).jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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The skin is placed on the drum and stretched with the use of tension pulleys.<br />
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Whilst the skin is settling on the drum the exact markings to locate the nails or tacks is scribed onto the skin. At the appropriate time the tacks are hammered home, and in effect take over the tension of the skin from the tension pulleys. <br />
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It takes about three months to make a drum, and yes I could not resist adding to my collection.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz0jAejpzlLsnRuHuzfXlBip_ghnzJP_jxie1-urGXWC9rHB0WAjUb4CNS94gMfzj_w3eCCEplTsA251GT_NrJDuifZ5IV7zdJkjAEbTnu6rWV8lXHEdf8binpw2Mtjd_VCvLqMMPP2JiM/s1600/IMG_5167+(1024x768).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz0jAejpzlLsnRuHuzfXlBip_ghnzJP_jxie1-urGXWC9rHB0WAjUb4CNS94gMfzj_w3eCCEplTsA251GT_NrJDuifZ5IV7zdJkjAEbTnu6rWV8lXHEdf8binpw2Mtjd_VCvLqMMPP2JiM/s320/IMG_5167+(1024x768).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Workshop</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Store room</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPRTqSObPUarcb8rS8rlI9hNVv6WaKaGSIkY6M-3FOhdX94GZq-PCoPweCNfWL863bJrT43Vldy2fmuyv76zIEQrz52S2jtLD7qwTb4aJUAg5_rmUjxZBvX0082ki_Gekaoqqnv2brSPeu/s1600/IMG_5170+(1024x768).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPRTqSObPUarcb8rS8rlI9hNVv6WaKaGSIkY6M-3FOhdX94GZq-PCoPweCNfWL863bJrT43Vldy2fmuyv76zIEQrz52S2jtLD7qwTb4aJUAg5_rmUjxZBvX0082ki_Gekaoqqnv2brSPeu/s320/IMG_5170+(1024x768).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Store room</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Important order for Japanese drumming ensemble</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Motif</td></tr>
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The Saddleworth Willwriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136522639613857848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-35584932619153877312013-09-12T15:27:00.000+01:002013-09-28T09:51:45.371+01:00Ayyuthaya or is it Ayutthaya?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Whichever it is spelt it is one of the must see places for the serious visitor to Thailand. Whilst there are many beautiful beaches, national parks and temples to visit, there is also a deep cultural heritage about which the Thais are justifiably very proud.<br />
The city is about 80 kms north of Bangkok and was once the capital of the Thai kingdom, and an important trading centre. Most of the once gleaming temples and palaces are now brooding ruins, but in places there is a sense of atmosphere and the excellent museums provide the bigger picture.<br />
Ayutthaya (Pronounced Ah-yut-hi-ya) is an island with UNESCO World Heritage status and sits at the confluence of the rivers Pasak, Lopburi and Chao Phraya. <br />
The quick history:<br />
1351 Founded and based on trade with India and China<br />
By 1550 it had flourished at the expense of the declining Khmer empire<br />
1685 population 1 million<br />
1600's forty nationalities set up trading posts<br />
1767 the Burmese army captured the city<br />
Left in ruins and a new capital city was created on Ratanakosin Island in Bangkok.<br />
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Neither Khamma nor I had any idea how much time we might need to explore the city. We thought a day would be enough, but two is probably better. There are many temples and they are well spaced out, so walking is ambitious, especially in the searing heat. Bicycles, motor bikes, or cars are more practical.<br />
We visited Wat Phra Maharat, Wat Ratburana, Wat Na Phra Mane, the visitor centre and the museum. We missed out on the Royal Palace and several other temples. <br />
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We enjoyed a street meal at the night market - eat all you can for 100 bhat! See picture below.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlqD6HthwX1izQR8dXGYtDdaLTCDrqEp_wRMnw-RHtdt0wzY_a3Ab5s5Nyqbs359Kv6-j9mnHh9qc3eRmEp2_lVx4GvRe1YtduMfPYv6850zQ56iNLKwIeRx2anY77ACra77-tdcsWrG1D/s1600/IMG_5125+(1024x768).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlqD6HthwX1izQR8dXGYtDdaLTCDrqEp_wRMnw-RHtdt0wzY_a3Ab5s5Nyqbs359Kv6-j9mnHh9qc3eRmEp2_lVx4GvRe1YtduMfPYv6850zQ56iNLKwIeRx2anY77ACra77-tdcsWrG1D/s320/IMG_5125+(1024x768).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buddha's head entwined in the roots of bodhi tree - Wat Phre Maharat</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdAGA414RJG_LFSScrUF-EiA7QLVzxdYqna8bS0bCpi72VfOsRkAu6Bz21eGLiYVOmOZhNrLQldto5Ti6_ISqaEDMCqIkdYDQrIa0QWelu6e7lCKZlU7kW2YruLbYNsNKngVZMt7qEUIDR/s1600/IMG_5130+(1024x768).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdAGA414RJG_LFSScrUF-EiA7QLVzxdYqna8bS0bCpi72VfOsRkAu6Bz21eGLiYVOmOZhNrLQldto5Ti6_ISqaEDMCqIkdYDQrIa0QWelu6e7lCKZlU7kW2YruLbYNsNKngVZMt7qEUIDR/s320/IMG_5130+(1024x768).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Many buddha heads missing</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wat Ratburana</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wat Na Phra Mane</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buddha in National museum</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgUhzV0Y4bmz7WKwcW1CtXLNfcDURyiJSnsk45lLr85-6JsohquJthydR9vDj-yX7smaKV7ViQs4d4Q5A6TiFeG5UD9rF9VN_-5kzHah82NtuVVuh3fxfKj-WNnwHq2klJYUd5v4JpTAN3/s1600/IMG_5161+(1024x768).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgUhzV0Y4bmz7WKwcW1CtXLNfcDURyiJSnsk45lLr85-6JsohquJthydR9vDj-yX7smaKV7ViQs4d4Q5A6TiFeG5UD9rF9VN_-5kzHah82NtuVVuh3fxfKj-WNnwHq2klJYUd5v4JpTAN3/s320/IMG_5161+(1024x768).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The biggest mobile rotating BBQ </td></tr>
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The Saddleworth Willwriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136522639613857848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-12765024014339988622013-09-12T12:41:00.000+01:002013-09-28T09:49:58.748+01:00Prachaup Khiri Khan to Ayyuthaya<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A few weeks ago, back in England, I was contemplating the road atlas of Thailand and planning the route from Phuket to Thamuang. It is a long way; the best part of 1,500 kilometres, and to make it manageable and enjoyable I decided to definitely break the journey at Ayyuthaya. Khamma and I often said we would like to visit the ancient city of Siam. It is a UNESCO World Heritage city and has very strong connections with Thai culture and history. We had already enjoyed a stopover at PKK, and a day's break in Ayyuthaya seemed perfect.<br />
Looking at the map, the journey seemed straightforward enough; route 4 north as far as road 35 east to road 9 north to Ayyuthaya. We set off from Prachuap at a reasonable 9am and estimated our arrival at around 4pm. I set the sat nav, not that I particularly thought we would need it (ha ha), but because we had it and had grown confident in the way it guided us around. In any case, on a serious note, we were going to flirt on the outskirts of Bangkok and after the last experience of driving there I thought we needed all the help on offer.<br />
Time moved on and after a short stop at the Floating Market in Hua Hin (not recommended) we found route 35 and moved closer to Bangkok. At this point the simplicity of the map was overwhelmed by the reality of the Bangkok traffic. The intersections are plain enough on paper, but the problem of getting the car into the correct lane and therefore the right direction, is another matter entirely. Five and six lane roadways converging into huge junctions. The signs for route 9 are clear enough and ever so close, but it was a battle to get there. The sat nav lady was speaking directions in such a clear calm but insistent voice I thought she was talking to me from the meditation room in the nearby temple. I was frantically looking how best to cut across six lanes of a moving mass of traffic with bicycles, motorbikes, motorbikes with sidecars, trucks, lorries, transporters, tankers, articulated lorries from China, Malaya, Laos and Cambodia and cars of every shape and size and some were even roadworthy! Every one of us wanted to go in a different direction and began weaving in and out in the automotive equivalent of musical chairs, the music stopping when a red light appeared, and even then some cheated and carried on. Remarkably no one crashed, on this occasion, no one got hurt and as far as I could tell, I was the only one worried by it all, followed by Khamma (maybe at my driving rather than the frenzy around us - I don't know and I didn't ask).<br />
The road appeared endless, and at one time it passed underneath the construction of the extension to the Bangkok urban train. But, in due course the mayhem started to subside and we could relax as the signs started to appear for Ayyuthaya. We arrived unshaken, but a little stirred, at 4pm.<br />
Another experience and thankfully one we survived. At least the car hire company will be pleased.</div>
The Saddleworth Willwriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136522639613857848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-1740328641243053742013-09-11T14:53:00.002+01:002013-09-28T09:48:40.671+01:00Prachuap Khiri Khan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
With an exotic sounding name of Prachuap Khiri Khan and almost half way between Bangkok and Phuket, this seaside resort was the ideal location to break our journey. Note that Prachuap Khri Khan is a sun rise town on the east coast and facing the Gulf of Thailand.<br />
We easily found a reasonable hotel with a sea view and stretched our legs along the prom joining the lucky people of PKK in the evening sun and heat. Sea food is the only choice and there are endless restaurants competing for custom. We could have spent more time here, and doubtless will in thhe times to come, but meanwhile it is worth a noting a photo or two and if ever you find yourself in this neck of the Thailand woods; just do it and spend a couple of days here!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil28F-4wg5mld3-ecYm-wgc_rxz8dU25EgB5gHNkJlxm3zK5ZrZahyphenhyphenAVlB5tu1bUi71EiuTdzqTuY6Pd_13ea0bTEPFspyP4-t67RqdMqlQGtn93jJqwAgy-yVUqPU-vdEHDKBuZMEoXli/s1600/IMG_5103+(1024x768).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil28F-4wg5mld3-ecYm-wgc_rxz8dU25EgB5gHNkJlxm3zK5ZrZahyphenhyphenAVlB5tu1bUi71EiuTdzqTuY6Pd_13ea0bTEPFspyP4-t67RqdMqlQGtn93jJqwAgy-yVUqPU-vdEHDKBuZMEoXli/s320/IMG_5103+(1024x768).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sun rise - stunning views from the balcony </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Early morning view from the beach</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXGU-5d4q1283zf-G5zHP9CcsR6A30oPscj7qvitaf1aeEIinZzam3vuKKearftymvi-F6wPiqlDSCsB9pwZwzQoKgVA3jwXELlLGy8-qMfvzH6l13xILrCEXeMmt9CkAi18rp7x16-AdW/s1600/IMG_5111+(1024x768).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXGU-5d4q1283zf-G5zHP9CcsR6A30oPscj7qvitaf1aeEIinZzam3vuKKearftymvi-F6wPiqlDSCsB9pwZwzQoKgVA3jwXELlLGy8-qMfvzH6l13xILrCEXeMmt9CkAi18rp7x16-AdW/s320/IMG_5111+(1024x768).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stillness and amazing cloud formations</td></tr>
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The Saddleworth Willwriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136522639613857848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-71461829232022320412013-09-11T04:27:00.005+01:002013-09-28T09:47:53.761+01:00Phuket's quieter places<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We soon realised that Phuket should not be judged by what we saw sprawled out each side of road 402. August is the 'off peak' season and the number of visitors is low, which makes the shops empty, the hotels and restaurants are only a quarter full, but the weather is not bad and it does not stop you from doing what you would have done if you were there in the 'peak' season.<br />
We stayed for 5 nights in Surin, which is on the west of the island about 15 minutes drive north of Patong and the next bay along from Kamala Bay. The sea is not exactly rough this time of year, but it does give a few exciting moments as waves crash on the steep beach. The under current is a potential danger to watch out for.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjAGqqcOveP4YiOS_QlzaZVT92ZjMQEAspNhbVnDBNN0ydWQ5m9DGj8X7o3nrSKqQ-eEVdTGkUpADN_blnMXx7Abu0g1Ks71R8r6g3nkyZzlUtY3gmFgVMfZF5ZwApY8aHcF7cmjIXemNP/s1600/IMG_5001+(1024x768).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjAGqqcOveP4YiOS_QlzaZVT92ZjMQEAspNhbVnDBNN0ydWQ5m9DGj8X7o3nrSKqQ-eEVdTGkUpADN_blnMXx7Abu0g1Ks71R8r6g3nkyZzlUtY3gmFgVMfZF5ZwApY8aHcF7cmjIXemNP/s320/IMG_5001+(1024x768).jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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A more remote beach can be found at Nai Thon. This is so laid back it hardly wakes up at all. Beach restaurants serve fantastic southern Thai dishes laced with coconut and fruit smoothies. The beach was endless and the surf crashing down. The enthusiastic life guards seemed to be in constant training, which was very re-assuring. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju01-nPwoS2wItmHJYQDuQxiKZV8EpbE9y1xwPTM8-7lrrQwqQRC3IoVYJ9B4Ou3tmfIaHKXMpLTi3q0w4E0Mpt_jvyCwRAMEaDm4KAaBbepEaZ6kU9jibu3KztT6JT0_nguZjinmsye1U/s1600/IMG_5017+%25281024x768%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju01-nPwoS2wItmHJYQDuQxiKZV8EpbE9y1xwPTM8-7lrrQwqQRC3IoVYJ9B4Ou3tmfIaHKXMpLTi3q0w4E0Mpt_jvyCwRAMEaDm4KAaBbepEaZ6kU9jibu3KztT6JT0_nguZjinmsye1U/s320/IMG_5017+%25281024x768%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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Nai Thon is on the west of the island, making it a sunset location - and they never fail to please. I can never quite decide if I am a sunset or sunrise person, but I do appreciate a good sunset after a great day out. The sun drops quickly in the last hour and it reminds that wherever you are in the world and you watch the sun set, it is the same sun, but it is the surroundings and the company that make it complete.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVNg3EQbXwmp-9lRAiy8ewNy8qWYPWU_m8JjudOg-QPSOGWD6lblEDzJE89X6avCrlJB8PRz_1MFmgHM7xyhKX3vTNtczKVysREnFFV65jje2SRx9IMN8wTpAbABpPoliel6fyI75EGgnp/s1600/IMG_5040+(1024x768).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVNg3EQbXwmp-9lRAiy8ewNy8qWYPWU_m8JjudOg-QPSOGWD6lblEDzJE89X6avCrlJB8PRz_1MFmgHM7xyhKX3vTNtczKVysREnFFV65jje2SRx9IMN8wTpAbABpPoliel6fyI75EGgnp/s320/IMG_5040+(1024x768).jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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On another day we spent a lazy afternoon at Nai Harn beach, which is very close the iconic picture of Phuket taken at the view point from Promthep, the most southerly part of the island.<br />
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Karon beach is a popular tanning spot for Patong's sun worshippers. Apart from driving through Patong on a couple occasions, we did not venture into its flesh pot. This was like Blackpool in its hay day and Benidorm at its worst. Great for a stag do.</div>
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Karon beach did not disappoint when the sun sank slow into the horizon. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is living pal!</td></tr>
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After five nights at Surin beach we made a move 2 kilometres round the headland to Bangtao beach and the excellent Blue Garden hotel.</div>
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The owner is an amiable Frenchman called Eric Seigneurin and the staff are delightful. The rooms are simple and placed around the pool with an open bar with spacious table settings. <br />
We liked this place so much we extended our stay. <a href="http://www.bluegarden-phuket.com/">www.bluegarden-phuket.com</a></div>
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There are lots of restaurants in Bangtao, the beach is fantastic and stretches for about two miles end to end. </div>
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I was so inspired I got up early one morning to jog along the beach. Soft sand made it hard going but it was well worth the effort. </div>
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Bangtao is on the sunset side of the island, so we enjoyed further magnificent light shows and endless peace, solitude and quiteness. <br />
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It was difficult to leave this place, but eventually we pulled ourselves away to make the long journey north to Ayutthaya, via Prachuap Khiri Khan.</div>
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The Saddleworth Willwriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136522639613857848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-20981235774056091422013-09-08T04:08:00.001+01:002013-09-28T09:45:41.972+01:00Driving south to Phuket<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After leaving the Bangkok maelstrom we started to move south onto relatively calmer highways. I say calmer, but to me I still felt out of my depth. I had a natural urge to defend what I thought was my vehicular space and to make it difficult for the mad drivers who tried to undertake and cut in front, or overtake when an overloaded lorry was hurtling towards us at a closing speed of a 100 miles an hour. It is of course my imported, and ill founded road sense that is the problem. I gradually realised that by acting differently<b><u> I</u></b> was the issue; therefore if I behaved like other drivers, that is behave badly, I will blend in, not be a problem and hence forth enjoy the experience instead of trying to fight it. To some extent this strategy works, and it does at least while away the miles. <br />
Our first night's stop was at the holiday resort of Hua Hin. It is a well liked resort for thousands of Bangkok's citizens who make their holiday homes here or come away for the weekend or day trip. It lives up to its reputation and is a very pleasing place, with fresh sea air overlooking the Gulf of Thailand - it is a sun rise location. August is the start of the low season in Thailand due to the monsoon. This was apparent in relatively few tourists frequenting an over-abundance of bars, restaurants and hotel amenities.<br />
Next day, after an early start, we had a long drive to Ranong. Following the Route 4 for tens of miles, there is suddenly a choice of route to Phuket at a town called Chumphon; the road divides by going due west to the Andaman coast (sun set country) or continues south towards Surat Thani (sun rise country). They meet up again at the the Sarasin bridge linking Phuket island to the mainland. Ranong is officially the wettest town in Thailand with annual rainfall in excess of 650cm, which is 255 inches in old money! It is a border town with Myanmar (Burma) and is very close to the Andaman Sea. At this point Thailand is a very narrow strip of land only 27 miles from coast to coast. This is what my geography teacher described as an 'isthmus'.<br />
Three interesting things about Ranong:<br />
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<li>The Japanese landed here on 8 December 1941 (the day before Pearl Harbour) and thus started the Pacific War.</li>
<li>It is a site for a proposed canal linking the Andaman sea with the Gulf of Thailand - but whether this will take place is another story.</li>
<li><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">The isthmus marks the boundary between two sections of the central cordillera, the mountain chain which runs from Tibet through all of the Malay peninsula. (I just find a link with Tibet from so far south in Thailand is fascinating).</span></span></li>
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<span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">The mountain road from Chumphon was bendy and up and down hill. Heavy violent showers stopped suddenly with dazzling outbreaks of sunshine. The road is not fast and in parts is being re-built but it is scenic and made a change from the flat road leading out of Hua Hin.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">We found a hotel called the Tinidee, which in Thai means 'a nice place'. We were offered the last room of the 138 bedrooms. The rest were occupied by Thai army officers and a university trip. </span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 19.1875px;">Next day we set off on the final leg to Phuket. The road runs very close to the Andaman coast and was the scene of devastation in the 2004 Tsunami. Along the way we stopped at a village and wandered down to the beach. With video scenes etched in the memory of the tsunami wave breaking over land, it did not take any imagination to visualise the terror and destruction it must have created. It is almost 10 years since the disaster but the frequent road signs warning of the danger and showing the escape routes are reminders of what happened, and could happen again.</span></div>
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The road to Phuket gradually became busier probably because it isn't all that wide, there are more resorts and villages, and it was the weekend. Add to this that we had been on the road for three days and becoming tired of driving; we were very keen to find a nice hotel and relax for a few days.</div>
Enter Phuket. There was some excitement as we crossed the Sarasin bridge and passed through the token checkpoint manned by less than enthusiastic policemen. But excitement soon changed as we drove down the 402. I thought we had burst into a time bubble and playing in a virtual reality X Box computer game. The main culprits are the van drivers - hell bent on driving from A to B as if they chasing Lewis Hamilton on a Sunday afternoon in Monza. I suppose what surprised me most was the high visibility commercialisation (is that a word?) Given that the road sign-age is very similar to that found in the USA, plus the huge advertising hoardings vying for attention to visit this place and that place, I was, for a moment at least, thinking I was in Las Vegas.<br />
We were trying to get to Surin and missed the turning (American signage to blame? My excuse) and ended up in down town Patong. The road is steep and very twisty with hairpins not dis-similar to Alp d'Huez (yes really). It was here I cut my teeth as a driver in Thailand. It was like a boy becoming a man. With 95% of the traffic straining to take an advantage to go as fast as possible on the wrong side of the line which I would consider safe, I decided you cannot dictate how to drive, you just have to join them. Khamma thought she was on a roller coaster, I was tired and pushing my luck, but after an exciting (Khamma said scarry) five or ten minutes, we made it and found the road to Surin.<br />
Exhausted, crabby and bad tempered we eventually found a hotel in Surin Bay. <br />
After a shower and settling in we had a lovely meal overlooking the beach, and Phuket's charm began its magic.<br />
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The Saddleworth Willwriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136522639613857848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-30758598439402287222013-08-30T10:40:00.001+01:002013-09-07T09:28:15.678+01:00Driving in Thailand<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have driven in many out of the way places - across the USA on Route 66, East Canada, South Africa, Namibia, Botswana and even Zimbabwe. But it was with some trepidation that I decided to hire a car for my latest trip to Thailand. I can recommend Sixt at Bangkok airport - excellent price, no fuss service and a reasonable car.<br />
I was pleased that the sat nav in my new Nokia 825 works just as well as it does in England, and the lady inside the device speaks English as opposed to Thai!!!<br />
Everything was set up and all I wanted to do was to avoid the centre of Bangkok as we drove south to Phuket. Alas, about 5km out of the airport, the sat nav took me off the motorway and into the maelstrom that is Bangkok on a Thursday afternoon. There was no way I could find my way back onto the motorway and my only choice was to follow the instructions uttered from the lady in the computer. <br />
There doesn't appear to be many rules of the road. OK they drive on the left, which is a great bonus for a Brit abroad. But there the similarities end; motorcycles weaving in and out from nearside and offside, front and back. The odd car driving towards you on the wrong side of the road. The sudden stops, lack of direction indication and tailgating. It's a recipe for an accident and I was well outside my comfort zone. Even the sat nav sometimes said go left when it meant straight ahead, because there was no left down which to turn. <br />
On one occasion I had to turn left because I could not switch back into the straight ahead lane. The sat nave recovery was good, but we ended up in a dodgy back street before returning to the main road. The next time this happened I was not going to be foiled. After an hour or so, I started to fight back. It seems like aggression is a great leveller whist driving anywhere in Thailand. I worked out that nobody wants to damage their bike or car, so accidents will only happen if there is a sudden change of driving habit. Being timid does not work!<br />
The road often diverged into three of four lanes and I tended to keep left where I felt I stood a better chance. Suddenly the left lane was turning left and the 'turn left' arrow was followed by those cones stuck into the cats eyes and they were approaching very quickly. With the reactions of Lewis Hamilton I glanced in the offside mirror and there was a gap just enough for me to switch lanes. We carried on about 100 metres when a policeman on an ageing motorbike appeared at my side and waved me in.<br />
He looked surprised when he saw a farang, but that did not stop him fining me 500 bhat (10GBP) for the offence. Luckily Khamma spoke up and asked him why he was charging 500 bhat instead of the 'standard' 400 bhat. He asked her how she knew such 'fine' (pun intended) detail and she replied that her cousin was also a cop. That said he took my licence and 400 bhat, but I did not receive a ticket. I can only assume he pocketed the money, or am I being cynical?<br />
Two hours later we emerged on the other side of the city. It took about an hour longer than it should, but it was an experience - not to be repeated.<br />
Whilst driving along Khamma reminded me that if there was an accident and even if it was not my fault, I would be expected to pay damages for the bike or car and any hospital treatment for the victim. How does that work? Somebody throws themselves at the car and I have to pay (?) This is Thailand. I keep reminding myself to drive safe.</div>
The Saddleworth Willwriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136522639613857848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-59998241048104089062013-07-24T23:09:00.001+01:002013-09-28T09:55:17.140+01:00More sad news<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My friend Billy passed away last month. Billy was a hard working British ex pat farang and had lived in the village of Yankerdow, which is on Highway 2050 and about 6 kilometres from Thamuang. </div>
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We shared a passion for Man United and watched several live games in the dead of night, drinking Leo beer on ice. Billy was also passionate about growing cashew nuts and over the years worked tirelessly to improve the crop yield. Quite often it seemed a more a labour of love than a way to make an income, and it's ironic that this year's crop was a great improvement on last year's. </div>
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On my visit to Thamuang in May, I was shocked to see how Billy had lost a lot of weight and was growing weaker. Sadly he died in the early hours on 13 June, but by all accounts he was very peaceful and didn't suffer a long illness. </div>
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Khamma, bless her, went to Billy's house early in the morning and helped Wan (Billy's wife) to prepare for his funeral. Most funerals are organised and prepared by family and friends and as the news spread they started to arrive at the house. The womenfolk have to prepare a continuous supply of food for the guests in the days leading up to the funeral. The menfolk sit around drinking beer and chewing the fat. Billy would have liked that!</div>
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Eventually the funeral took place at the village temple in full Thai tradition. </div>
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Bye Billy boy, it was a pleasure to know you.</div>
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The Saddleworth Willwriterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16136522639613857848noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-45589305027243919772012-09-17T15:54:00.000+01:002012-09-17T15:54:30.423+01:00The Unfortunate and Sad Side to Life in Thamuang<div style="text-align: justify;">
I tend to write optimistic blogs about my life in Asia and Thamuang in particular. I am sometimes cynical, sometimes grumpy but rarely have I had the need to write about sad news. The truth is there isn't a lot of sad news to write about, but when something comes along, it is all the more shocking.</div>
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The other day news came in that a young boy, about 16 years old, had been missing from his home for a couple of days. Apparently he lived with his grandmother and his parents worked in Bangkok where the money is better. These circumstances are quite common for many families in most Issan villages, and indeed was the case with Khamma for two or three years. Money is necessary for food, education and housing and there isn't much of it growing rice year and year out. Families are forced to live apart and youngsters have to adapt quickly to a life with grandparents and basically fending for themselves.</div>
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In many ways this is good because the children contribute to daily chores like cooking, shopping and cleaning and working in the fields. Everyone, regardless of age, has to chip in to make the home operate. However, children do feel the pressures. After all children are children wherever they are in the world.</div>
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Keeping up at school is difficult. Class sizes often consist of 45 to 50 kids and the teacher has to accommodate them in two or three rooms. This obviously has its affect on academic progress and as kids reach their mid teens they are often difficult to control - just like any kids.</div>
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Sadly this poor boy decided to leave home and did not tell anybody. His body was found two days later in the river about five miles downstream. He apparently took his own life because he could no longer handle the pressure.</div>
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The village follows certain procedure in these situations, because according to Buddhist tradition the body cannot be cremated, but has to buried. And so it was that he was buried in a cemetery along with the victims of road accidents. Apparently unless the death is one through illness or old age the body is not cremated. I don't know the reasons other than it seems to a superstition. There is no time wasted either. The boy was buried the next day and apparently without his parents being there. Very very sad and a reminder that pressures do exist in seemingly idyllic locations.</div>
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<br />The Thamuang Farang.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16259640085239432367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-57833741047171175402012-09-15T15:43:00.001+01:002012-09-15T15:55:42.270+01:00Tad Paxuam Waterfall and Uttayan Bajiang Village Pakse Laos <br />
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Thamuang is very close to the border with Laos. There is also a twice daily international bus service to Pakse in Laos and it only takes about three and a half hours. This is very convenient for me to re-new my visa to allow me to stay in Thailand a while longer.</div>
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We first visited Pakse last year - see July 2011 blog posts.</div>
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The border at Chong Mek (Thailand) and Vang Tao (Laos) has changed a lot in the last year and travellers now have go through an underground tunnel from Thailand to Laos (and vice versa). It's different, and once in the tunnel it is rather James Bondish, but I can't for the life of me think why they have gone to so much trouble when the border control and customs procedures are so informal. No luggage is checked so the transfer of anything one way and the other is easy.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An unusual way to cross borders</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">We stayed at the Champasak Palace hotel again. The quirky but good hotel that stands so dominant by the river Se and close to the enormous Mekong river.</span><br />
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After a good night's sleep we rented a motorbike for 60,000 kip (about £4.75 - amazing value) and rode the 35 kms or so to the waterfall known as Tad Paxuam and the ethnic village called Uttayam Bajiang. I mentioned in last year's post that the driving in Pakse was at best mayhem, and I can report that after one year there is no apparent improvement. I rode the bike with caution and still wonder how I picked my way through the traffic. At one point I can remember being overtaken and undertaken whilst seeing bikes and cars coming towards me from the right and left. It was like being in a real life video game. </div>
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Once we left the outskirts of Pakse we could relax and soon reached Uttayan Bajiang. The village is the culmination of years of hard work by a successful businessman Wimol Kijbamrung. He describes how he arrived at the site in 1999 and set to work with the local villagers. All they had was an old hoe between them and Wimol describes that the most valuable item then held between them was an old bicycle frame! The site had been stripped of its wild life as the locals would kill almost anything with a heart beat and moving for food. Gradually the site was transformed and given back to nature, for example 25,000 indigenous trees were planted. The locals have survived and in the locality 13 tribes exist side by side. Visitors can stay in traditional houses and enjoy a break next to the nature of the Bolaven Plateau. The villagers produce crafts and generally manage the area.</div>
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Sadly Wimol was struck down with malaria just one week after the village opened and as a result he is blind. However, his enthusiasm lives on in a quest and promise to support and sustain the culture and nature.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Main waterfall</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bridge constructed entirely of bamboo</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Guest house</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Guest house</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jungle house</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9lFY4fodgrWEO7vKq060Np8Ugh9IAj-ZfizFzupcuwD0mOOwpa6EmDZTKnDk2NpKPtXf7nDuiekiaTHqR26LKaB-RnyVtFlsPSekCPrzoIaKTALIPiQfx3_XVNVOKT3UjJ6XyMtG1NE8/s1600/IMG_4669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9lFY4fodgrWEO7vKq060Np8Ugh9IAj-ZfizFzupcuwD0mOOwpa6EmDZTKnDk2NpKPtXf7nDuiekiaTHqR26LKaB-RnyVtFlsPSekCPrzoIaKTALIPiQfx3_XVNVOKT3UjJ6XyMtG1NE8/s320/IMG_4669.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jungle house</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0ZLRyb9K0EmRwJ9DyM36z9phWqCb-j1zy4xdvEsFLaUpMszu2bioIjxPCueAOIsv28NK_BLEf5j15hxxJK3UUAgWDViD1Oxquy4iSGuCqkFq_Yzs94i3vMlSIP176XBUI7qwiw6psPs/s1600/IMG_4676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0ZLRyb9K0EmRwJ9DyM36z9phWqCb-j1zy4xdvEsFLaUpMszu2bioIjxPCueAOIsv28NK_BLEf5j15hxxJK3UUAgWDViD1Oxquy4iSGuCqkFq_Yzs94i3vMlSIP176XBUI7qwiw6psPs/s320/IMG_4676.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Local explaining the pan pipes</td></tr>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzE9MfUemswg7rOCOzLxPTeJTQD6fmbQGxHNIaVZye9nXGY6zaU_jwHGO6nOe9XmNz0ntVTkTDOAcPaUhxQWw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Sorry the video is on its side - but its worth a look anyway</div>
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We had a very pleasant couple of hours wandering round this really beautiful conservation area. The locals are friendly and the wildlife abundant. </div>
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We then moved on to the Tad Fane waterfall, which we visited last year as well. The area is obviously being developed at a fast rate for industry because of the proximity to the Thai border, and tourism with resorts, luxury villas and restaurants. Nevertheless, it is a beautiful area and if you get the chance just go for it. There are connections onwards to Cambodia and Vietnam by overnight bus at good rates.</div>
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The Thamuang Farang.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16259640085239432367noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-9294046519968307622012-09-13T15:17:00.002+01:002012-09-13T15:18:59.417+01:00Chiang Mai Doi Inthanon National Park<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have limited experience of organising family outings and especially trying to cater for tastes between awkward teenagers and elderly parents. In addition, in Thailand, when you ask the question 'What would you like to do?', invariably the reply is 'Up to YOU!' So it is best to make your own decisions and lo and behold, everyone will follow, possibly groaning and complaining about your choice, but if they do it doesn't show too much.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So it was up to me to decide to take the family on a day's trip to Doi Inthanon National Park, where we were promised a hotel pick up in the mini van, a trip to the highest point in Thailand, a visit to the Royal Pagodas and garden, a quick tour of fine examples of two waterfalls and a visit to a Karen tribe village - and lunch. I thought this was an impressive menu of delights and should satisfy most of the wishes of the family, and certainly keep us occupied for a day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The tour was organised by Journey Tours and easily booked by the hotel reception. The mini van arrived Sunday morning, slightly later than anticipated, but our guide who was called Moon, greeted us all with a broad smile and a warm welcome as we joined the other eight people on board the comfortable mini bus.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">About an hour and a half later we entered the National Park and started the long uphill drive to the top of the mountain. In my former life as a mountaineer I have struggled with acute mountain sickness at 6,000 metres in the Himalaya, I have climbed ten 4,000 metre plus mountains in the Alps and walked up countless mountains in Great Britain. However, I have never ever driven up a mountain in a mini bus. I am ashamed to say I have stood on the highest point of Thailand, but actually I got there by a taxi. My guilt seemed to accentuate when Moon informed us that the mountain was in fact on the eastern edge of the Himalayas! Guests gasped with gratuitous gratitude and glee, I gulped at my guilt and looked out of the window into the rain, which increased my depression. Has it all come down to this?</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKVTCCBbhm7RaSOeAzZbYJmmbCf6JbSt90qb_JyqKGT5_Q2Ei5Xn_1XOF_mZT4utBO7q4RM2IaPQO92WCXcv0PlLJlGv6yj0qITkOFVzQdKx4g9QHCnHexyoPVHVtmS6vz-D6S_USRhA/s1600/IMG_4525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKVTCCBbhm7RaSOeAzZbYJmmbCf6JbSt90qb_JyqKGT5_Q2Ei5Xn_1XOF_mZT4utBO7q4RM2IaPQO92WCXcv0PlLJlGv6yj0qITkOFVzQdKx4g9QHCnHexyoPVHVtmS6vz-D6S_USRhA/s320/IMG_4525.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Entrance to the Park and the start of the drive up to the highest point in Thailand</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The summit team at Doi Inthanon 2565 metres</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Next stop was the site of pagodas dedicated to Thailand's highly respected King and Queen . These impressive structures were constructed by the Thai Royal Air Force to commemorate the 60th birthdays of Their Majesties The King and Queen in 1987 and 1992 respectively. Sadly the rain clouds would not part, so instead of spectacular views we got the atmospheric ones.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWxRR_inRHi27ZDUffLHdXyMESUmcSV0uyN7Zl5YmFIqjrR9KwM5RVWdMyLI8vVcz1qDLOPOWdQUpHY8fwfou6SGb1QEhH8ywbwkUqtMk5T3FcGBgtKF_ByrZ3UGw4ecr6cVXLk-LnlKk/s1600/IMG_4543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWxRR_inRHi27ZDUffLHdXyMESUmcSV0uyN7Zl5YmFIqjrR9KwM5RVWdMyLI8vVcz1qDLOPOWdQUpHY8fwfou6SGb1QEhH8ywbwkUqtMk5T3FcGBgtKF_ByrZ3UGw4ecr6cVXLk-LnlKk/s320/IMG_4543.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The Queen's pagoda in the foreground, the King's at the back, the family on the bridge</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We then moved on to a waterfall, the name of which escapes me, but it did involve a short walk to its base. This being the rainy season, the falls where in full flow and quite impressive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Moon informed us that the park includes three distinct types of forest - rain forest, deciduous and evergreen. Whilst at the rain forest Moon informed us it is distinctive by its growth of fern on the bark. She scoffed at my joke that it always seemed to rain in a rain forest.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZbPBUGn53NfgGH_f5-eQACk41DIm08zxrv4qZd-Sr7npHpTVkQH7HliYkpZHshc6u4E3kWRE7yQQFvVa2fvm8HCiJ7EuJuUD4MFnOPuaOTXf5Q9lV1V5FkiLjU-LS5QSLpczlhDXh2nY/s1600/IMG_4559.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZbPBUGn53NfgGH_f5-eQACk41DIm08zxrv4qZd-Sr7npHpTVkQH7HliYkpZHshc6u4E3kWRE7yQQFvVa2fvm8HCiJ7EuJuUD4MFnOPuaOTXf5Q9lV1V5FkiLjU-LS5QSLpczlhDXh2nY/s320/IMG_4559.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The walk to the falls </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg31AvjZigqE9qeuq6D3u5dCVQ3C80aocCcntMEPvP347iMgYCzClLwNq0k0H9jQw2RmZpp_efsy2Uxq87tMXwU50zzyYbz8UXXbZQcmlntKIDySYUR76r2dEPxE3UMU7zpXNqkjaDdULo/s1600/IMG_4553.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg31AvjZigqE9qeuq6D3u5dCVQ3C80aocCcntMEPvP347iMgYCzClLwNq0k0H9jQw2RmZpp_efsy2Uxq87tMXwU50zzyYbz8UXXbZQcmlntKIDySYUR76r2dEPxE3UMU7zpXNqkjaDdULo/s320/IMG_4553.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The falls falling and the family looking impressed</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcMx5AHogmJlWEWcmk_-tFUzgfkdUhj04OBv8F-qFlpxy0O2FMv_uPdraq-9ISOO7VOcnkZu7JNsj4jBeB6iYhRQdVj-Bzll2xyV3SVlJfA0Xlt3s_AsK-2PkqYrFMzy0vP4t-vM5FiHY/s1600/IMG_4556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcMx5AHogmJlWEWcmk_-tFUzgfkdUhj04OBv8F-qFlpxy0O2FMv_uPdraq-9ISOO7VOcnkZu7JNsj4jBeB6iYhRQdVj-Bzll2xyV3SVlJfA0Xlt3s_AsK-2PkqYrFMzy0vP4t-vM5FiHY/s320/IMG_4556.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A view from down stream</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSB0GGRq3w7sAWxu4_QKn7qi8k1ioDmisCxA1z8Kfq4D9qqDuozNL79uFFc1dnl6eUeVTN-X8gfbM-wDh4b9H8QZPLTSX9aEY1G2CXGqwradX1fQCO5h27fFpVw0CxLNbUxdUjtPa2cwc/s1600/IMG_4551.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSB0GGRq3w7sAWxu4_QKn7qi8k1ioDmisCxA1z8Kfq4D9qqDuozNL79uFFc1dnl6eUeVTN-X8gfbM-wDh4b9H8QZPLTSX9aEY1G2CXGqwradX1fQCO5h27fFpVw0CxLNbUxdUjtPa2cwc/s320/IMG_4551.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">An impressive fern</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Next stop was lunch. This was good and was included in the cost of the trip. There was plenty of Thai chicken and fish dishes with a smattering of papaya salads, rice etc. We then walked over to waterfall number two, which was much more impressive than the waterfall one.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifE5VgILPwzq8ta4isfiNnwwHf7eFq4VKewHC1q0Jd3vYVLdSCQ5Gb3rwiIMedIaloEjJLANg_kH42WQrsRdr5JrvasqhtcEgxIyE2DsZjo71OYzYv2QeHVKbjR68kYajET-vWAqQ4mlI/s1600/IMG_4575.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifE5VgILPwzq8ta4isfiNnwwHf7eFq4VKewHC1q0Jd3vYVLdSCQ5Gb3rwiIMedIaloEjJLANg_kH42WQrsRdr5JrvasqhtcEgxIyE2DsZjo71OYzYv2QeHVKbjR68kYajET-vWAqQ4mlI/s320/IMG_4575.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">First view of waterfall two</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhADzNgGJdY1_Z5ReEiL5PLvwGF8NeQhKU-KR63jBlZv9COHbJIPSM3OR-CKmKAYb_owmVLvbYzB3Hkf-EQM9Ik3GTULilm0tyrjZdwmwd0cF6hLz0T5O3WvQEWj4TY67u9MGDfArd7fnw/s1600/IMG_4567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhADzNgGJdY1_Z5ReEiL5PLvwGF8NeQhKU-KR63jBlZv9COHbJIPSM3OR-CKmKAYb_owmVLvbYzB3Hkf-EQM9Ik3GTULilm0tyrjZdwmwd0cF6hLz0T5O3WvQEWj4TY67u9MGDfArd7fnw/s320/IMG_4567.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Mama and Khamma</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTv5pSLE97Mp5VhZis2yqRV9TrgORu_GWzIKwOHW4SuDkLVyq5IgAgwOGWL7qr8f9F4XjzdEUJx2DxdelMO_LCxHKLjRq12WCTMqBv2pXHxAXFWUgvS3bVr9rSSwExqwnqInnqkE0aGOI/s1600/IMG_4572.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTv5pSLE97Mp5VhZis2yqRV9TrgORu_GWzIKwOHW4SuDkLVyq5IgAgwOGWL7qr8f9F4XjzdEUJx2DxdelMO_LCxHKLjRq12WCTMqBv2pXHxAXFWUgvS3bVr9rSSwExqwnqInnqkE0aGOI/s320/IMG_4572.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Rainbow</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> Finally, we made a short trip to a Karen village. This area of northern Thailand is populated by many hill and forest tribes who are still trying to live their lives in the way of their ancestors. Modernisation makes it easy to move to the city for a new life, but opportunities are not always what they seem to be. The Thai government is keen to keep the old traditions alive, at least for the flourishing tourist trade, and invest in keeping the tribes and the their ways of life. Crafts and agriculture help them and of course group visits like ours help with sales of textiles, coffee and other crafts.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijBcd5oHQkxiBpOFPv18xoXPq6-2Vk33bX-HHZNO7T5eYyjLnyPL77AT_xUI7TJ_31HwQPF_b7SQbpxUVYMBYvDUHz_DxOomRduYyicPTfJZJsGsvkz-acAasLI2diygeg7-GgfWEFqHw/s1600/IMG_4581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijBcd5oHQkxiBpOFPv18xoXPq6-2Vk33bX-HHZNO7T5eYyjLnyPL77AT_xUI7TJ_31HwQPF_b7SQbpxUVYMBYvDUHz_DxOomRduYyicPTfJZJsGsvkz-acAasLI2diygeg7-GgfWEFqHw/s320/IMG_4581.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Karen weavers</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT96zyHWz4NstWu_xywd6DiVFyEo5ryla5lG1DsYSWEDKLHRWqoHjbqGbutmgrdpWfC25L1NvfKLPcMq1bq0CjNP5ZOcEPthmPqn2cWUpKVA_h-FN40c9pmQJmMKgKJC-yt9B5SKt28W4/s1600/IMG_4583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT96zyHWz4NstWu_xywd6DiVFyEo5ryla5lG1DsYSWEDKLHRWqoHjbqGbutmgrdpWfC25L1NvfKLPcMq1bq0CjNP5ZOcEPthmPqn2cWUpKVA_h-FN40c9pmQJmMKgKJC-yt9B5SKt28W4/s320/IMG_4583.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Karen rice fields</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">That just about wrapped up the trip. A great day out for all the family, they were all tired out and fell asleep on the journey back to Chiang Mai - OK I did as well.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Moon did an excellent job, moving round from guest to guest explaining everything in Thai and English. The driver was called Nick and although he drove very fast, he was good and several times he looked after Mama where the walk or the weather was too much for her.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If you ever decide to go on this tour - make sure you pick Journey Tours.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.journeycnx.com/" target="_blank">Click here for Journey Tours Chiang Mai</a>The Thamuang Farang.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16259640085239432367noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-55295413145206123312012-09-13T13:13:00.000+01:002012-09-15T03:41:32.752+01:00Royal Flora Ratchaphruek Gardens Chiang Mai<div style="text-align: justify;">
It was Khamma's inspired idea to take the family to Ratchaphruek Gardens for our first afternoon in Chiang Mai. The weather was grey and dull but it wasn't raining and ideal for walking around this beautiful area of Chiang Mai.</div>
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I was a little bit disappointed that there was only a few other people there; maybe because it was a Friday afternoon, but nevertheless more visitors would have added to the atmosphere. We sauntered around for a couple hours including looking at <u>last year's</u> international exhibition where several countries had a space in which to create a theme representing an image of their country. It certainly looked looked like last year's stock! It was ill maintained and in parts very run down. It was, in part, the old Thai tradition of permanent temporariness. There is a stop and ride service to save you walking between the main sites, which is very useful in rather humid conditions. </div>
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The Thamuang Farang.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16259640085239432367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-76363164533068762392012-09-10T07:02:00.001+01:002012-09-10T07:02:17.077+01:00First Time Flyers and Air Asia<div style="text-align: justify;">
Khamma has obviously travelled extensively in the last five years since we met and is now a seasoned air traveller, but her children, Pell (24) and Yo (15) and mother have never been on an aeroplane. In fact they haven't travelled any great distances at all and none of them have been outside Thailand. So it was a special family treat to fly from Ubon Ratchathani to Chiang Mai for a short weekend break. </div>
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Air Asia have revolutionised air travel in Asia and Thailand in particular. Their low cost flying really does make it possible for everyone to fly and it is very affordable even compared to travelling VIP on the bus. The cost of a return flight from Ubon to Chaing Mai was about £46 and takes just over an hour, compared to the overnight bus which costs about £35 and takes at least 16 hours! </div>
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There are many reasonable hotels in Chiang Mai and we had no problem booking on line for three nights at the Anoma.</div>
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As the day drew closer, the family became quite excited about the flight and visiting Chiang Mai. Mama, has not been too well recently, but she looked forward to the flight, and it seemed that telling her friends in the village about her adventure really perked her up. Pell and Yo tried to keep cool about the whole thing, but their guard often slipped, especially as Pell was so excited she couldn't sleep the night before.</div>
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The flight was faultless and the excitement there for all to see. After countless flights in my previous career, I had forgotten about the pure joy of travelling, but watching the joy of three people from Thamuang remind me not to be complacent.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbsjn-fxQlJUwVldy_UVCbrtXEMBaMSETbfZZJMyij2K9R8_50V6UhJaxvqpVUexL0rda4m3l5FLKuSD8wjpMB8ixGYQQyNgIMqaRIIp5NHf-HsVfZIxrDwFUGk9JfS9IoEHxTSlbo6aU/s1600/IMG_4606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbsjn-fxQlJUwVldy_UVCbrtXEMBaMSETbfZZJMyij2K9R8_50V6UhJaxvqpVUexL0rda4m3l5FLKuSD8wjpMB8ixGYQQyNgIMqaRIIp5NHf-HsVfZIxrDwFUGk9JfS9IoEHxTSlbo6aU/s320/IMG_4606.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mama, Pell and Yo on their first aeroplane flight</td></tr>
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The Thamuang Farang.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16259640085239432367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-44774298574734159562012-09-10T06:26:00.000+01:002012-09-10T06:30:38.295+01:00Revenge of the VerminI suppose it was somewhat eccentric of me to get all excited about jet washing the yard. Some people suggested I should get out a bit more and go to the pub, which is fine, but there is nothing like a bit of therapy now and again.<br />
Thai people are not renowned for keeping the yard tidy, and our family is no exception. Nothing is thrown away, or re-cycled as we now like to call it. We have an old bike, rusty piping, cans, tubs, bits of old wood and even straightened out nails. Those of you connected to a Thai family will know exactly what I mean, but can I get Khamma to at least tidy up never mind go down to the tip? No chance. So it was that the jet washer was left outside until we went away to Chiang Mai.<br />
On the morning we left I picked up the jet washer only to find that a rat had chewed through the electric cable. The cable was OK the day before because I had in fact used the jet wash again for a short burst of satisfaction! But overnight the pesky vermin had wreaked its revenge on me for cleaning the place up. Not even the dogs woke us up, which leads to me to think they might all be conspiring against me.<br />
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Any advice on how to catch Thai rats will be greatly appreciated.The Thamuang Farang.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16259640085239432367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-70333217606485700002012-09-05T12:07:00.001+01:002012-09-05T13:03:17.981+01:00Hair Cut the Thai way<div style="text-align: justify;">
Being a man who is follically challenged, I do not find it difficult to cut my own hair. Or rather use the trimming shears I bought in Copenhagen in 1998, but that's another story!</div>
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A quick trim using the number three trimming gauge usually does the trick in about 5 minutes - saving the laborious trip to the hairdressers and saving anything from about £5 to whatever you are prepared to pay at the barbers.</div>
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However, on my travels I like to sample a barber experience in whatever country I am visiting. I have had my hair cut in the United States, Laos, Singapore, Hong Kong, Shenzen (China), Thailand, Denmark, Spain and had cut-throat razor shaves in India and Nepal. Every experience was different, but a trip to the barbers in Thailand is a pleasure.</div>
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I do not do glitz and style - I prefer basic, and the barber shop in Trakan Phutphon (about 18 kilometres from Thamuang) is just that. It could be up market as far as your average Thai gent is concerned, but for me it is just the job.</div>
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The shop is open to the street. It has three well worn (out) chairs facing faded mirrors. The shelf in front of the chair has a plastic plate rack the type used to drain dishes after washing them. On the top rack is tin mug, which I presume has water in it. Next to this is a bar of shaving soap, a mildewed shaving brush, new packets of razor blades and a simple razor holder. There is a collection of dirty towels with smears of caked-dried soap containing thousands of dark bristles from the morning's shaves so far. The bottom rack has today's newspaper with a glob of dried soap from the shelf above smartly covering the face of whoever it is that made the headlines today. There is also a small collection of plastic combs similar to the ones you get in Christmas crackers from Marks and Spencer back home. The shelf itself is covered in a weary blue formica with a white pattern fighting for attention with white patches created from years of picking up and putting down the tools of the trade; the barber's ironmongery. There is a minimalist display consisting of three pairs of scissors (big, medium and small), the electric razor and mixed bag of plastic trimming gauges. Lucky for me he has a number three gauge and proudly shows me the number before slotting it into his shears, which I notice still have the trimmings of his last customer embedded in them. I chuckle to myself that the number three is the only recognisable communication between us.</div>
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A combination of towels and covers is wrapped around my neck and held in place with peg. I am certain that the last time these rags were anywhere near fresh was at the beginning of last week, they have been washed and used so many times they are transparent in places.</div>
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The shears spark (literally) into life and the shearing begins. Clumps of grey and white hair fall onto the threadbare towels covering my chest. I notice that the barber has fixed a mirror onto the wall behind me so that I can see what is going on at the back of my head. This is a great idea that I have never seen in the UK, I would be more impressed if my eyesight could meet the challenge of seeing the action. Sadly my spectacles lie on the shelf next to the newspaper.</div>
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All the while the barber is chatting away to Khamma who sits patiently as my chaperon, interpretor and dutiful wife. Goodness what they are saying but I think most of it is about me.</div>
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Shearing complete, now the trimming with comb and scissors followed by a shave of the neck hairs with the trusty simple cut throat. The barber wets the dodgy looking shaving brush in the murky looking soapy water festering away in the tin mug. A thin veil of lather tries hard to make its presence felt on the skin on the back of my neck. The coolness of the water feels surprisingly and worryingly fresh. The barber then takes a fresh blade, snaps off the ends and inserts it into the simple razor holder. At this point I feel vulnerable, but with skill honed from shaving the beards of thousands of Thai men who have passed this same way, he quickly scrapes away the wispy hairs that only a few week's before were standing on end at the success of the Team GB in the Olympics. <br />
Then the chair tilts back at an alarming angle, and I am instantly reminded of trips to the dentist. I notice the ceiling has being thoughtfully decorated by stapling sheets of paper to whatever flimsy substance lies behind and the rust brown colour of the staples blending into the dusty once white paper adding texture, like a Damien Hirst artwork (this might be an exaggeration on my part or my vivid imagination - what do you think?). The pre-shaving process is repeated on my face, or at least parts of it. The dirty soapy water supposedly making it easy for the blade to cut my beard has a perfume of staleness lingering as he drags the blade across my face. After a few more strokes of the blade, it did feel as if the stubble was beginning to surrender rather than being quietly taken away, but to my relief there was no blood drawn!</div>
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Just as I thought all was finished, I have a mildly scented cold towel unexpectedly swipe my face, neck and skull followed by a vigorous neck and shoulder massage. Job done! Cost 40 bhat - about 90 pence. At that price I would go every week. A pure pleasure.</div>
The Thamuang Farang.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16259640085239432367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-18940950266796870502012-09-04T15:46:00.001+01:002012-09-04T15:46:10.689+01:00Day to Day Life in Thamuang<div style="text-align: justify;">
This time of year is supposed to be the rainy season. So far, it has been unpredictable and the farmers of Issan are getting a little worried that the rains will come too late. Those fears have been washed away over the last few days with enough rainfall to bring sunshine into their hearts. The rice fields have changed colour to a 'healthy green' as I described my interpretation of the scene to Khamma. The fact I am hopelessly colour blind and therefore dis-qualified in every way to describe colour was cast aside - even I could see that green was green.</div>
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The sunset tonight was excellent and hopefully we have a few settled days - at least enough to get some 'chemy' on the rice. We purchased a new fertiliser spraying machine on Sunday. It's like a plastic back pack with a small petrol engine to create the pressure for the sprayer. It can hold 25 litres of chemical fertiliser, that's about 52 pounds weight plus about 15 pounds for the machine and that's enough to give Khamma a good workout!!!</div>
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Officially we have two house dogs; Churlon and Kitty (I know that's an odd name for a dog), but the family also have Jacob who lodges with Mama in the village, but really belongs to Mama's grand-daughter, who claims it belongs to her mum. Anyway when the three get together all hell breaks loose as they chase around the house in excitement. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSJEQEM_BuLqyiLI8Bow3Zo92EwS76ISqOGPqvZvu4-N0nJLwxV0laBxqemG5WFgd06pO_ZIS6uXWjy_INZJu2LZCh0sKgWFIFycWr9ImsS-zLMTr9ArtzVsw0B8hnFahxYNhvDQc_5SY/s1600/IMG_4433.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSJEQEM_BuLqyiLI8Bow3Zo92EwS76ISqOGPqvZvu4-N0nJLwxV0laBxqemG5WFgd06pO_ZIS6uXWjy_INZJu2LZCh0sKgWFIFycWr9ImsS-zLMTr9ArtzVsw0B8hnFahxYNhvDQc_5SY/s320/IMG_4433.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Churlon, Kitty and Jacob</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVg5UnENxN0UzBIR_ADWF_4PhpsH1HAVBFRENaEeg7uFoNecbrNrlY_0kKCcfRfLJ9wzjootY_V-RD8O2yEKAnpHz2Lz-8HwOBXOqVfHRxtUX3av9GKvv0zKrTDjSD1UQ1gxK4qZS0GQ4/s1600/IMG_4435.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVg5UnENxN0UzBIR_ADWF_4PhpsH1HAVBFRENaEeg7uFoNecbrNrlY_0kKCcfRfLJ9wzjootY_V-RD8O2yEKAnpHz2Lz-8HwOBXOqVfHRxtUX3av9GKvv0zKrTDjSD1UQ1gxK4qZS0GQ4/s320/IMG_4435.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitty - odd name for a dog</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMsXXX7seEsxSuvt_2O6UJ2NwYZZ4NSeTArGbG4GCnGZvRM4lzMMci1UpiWWHdvgXt76k3DVAUr6QT71YIVUgeUsTHHVs8ht2KpP3fy7H0dRf_WIK9p9QPRcO1XSCweFLEmwgjuV77vRg/s1600/IMG_4438.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMsXXX7seEsxSuvt_2O6UJ2NwYZZ4NSeTArGbG4GCnGZvRM4lzMMci1UpiWWHdvgXt76k3DVAUr6QT71YIVUgeUsTHHVs8ht2KpP3fy7H0dRf_WIK9p9QPRcO1XSCweFLEmwgjuV77vRg/s320/IMG_4438.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Churlon - the old man</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">More stories about them in due course, but for now - just like the postcard used to say; Greetings from Thamuang.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGdNcYCFOItfVfw-w7jECEjk40RGEmYm3GBhyJrRC_rxK3kRidFUxHd6Ypw2kXEKc2heDzpHUiQ912PRlhdCymvb5VlNBVFP8sRt8CDOIzI5cJo18OIdSEnM3UDCFv45zf6hFhy5HJeJI/s1600/IMG_4455.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGdNcYCFOItfVfw-w7jECEjk40RGEmYm3GBhyJrRC_rxK3kRidFUxHd6Ypw2kXEKc2heDzpHUiQ912PRlhdCymvb5VlNBVFP8sRt8CDOIzI5cJo18OIdSEnM3UDCFv45zf6hFhy5HJeJI/s320/IMG_4455.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tonight's sunset of the fields</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkVf3SA8QisMSohXG3x4yEUnCdFdDPRfWdS_rFDILto9uVVsqhAXp_aY1FaLh9ZK09fTAlnFG1yiEiQQgTMGTx8daX9aZKfEOXiI1sJ-IGB2gD8Nx9td6LDVLeI4e9s3fjQVSPIRbaC_A/s1600/IMG_4456.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkVf3SA8QisMSohXG3x4yEUnCdFdDPRfWdS_rFDILto9uVVsqhAXp_aY1FaLh9ZK09fTAlnFG1yiEiQQgTMGTx8daX9aZKfEOXiI1sJ-IGB2gD8Nx9td6LDVLeI4e9s3fjQVSPIRbaC_A/s320/IMG_4456.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A decent time for a beer</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9pGOFr9UESh-PC_oeXkbw5xqy4DfyoebmvZH1dD_fjssypxHMEkqce_WM3F1mP8VNrA0YXOUzH4ZR7AimZ5rJ5quzm2eB9_e0HlLHOAzi1zfwdwvXs7p_Rmk0oxSDAuvaSSB-vIhffPU/s1600/IMG_4461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9pGOFr9UESh-PC_oeXkbw5xqy4DfyoebmvZH1dD_fjssypxHMEkqce_WM3F1mP8VNrA0YXOUzH4ZR7AimZ5rJ5quzm2eB9_e0HlLHOAzi1zfwdwvXs7p_Rmk0oxSDAuvaSSB-vIhffPU/s320/IMG_4461.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The farmer surveys her crops</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidbPV8lP32rMzohrIC34NHr0wb_HHatE7rYoMy5ghX48XbMcfmZvfxpPZfH4F_zLEx3GGrRugm_mZ-Xmeb0-_kXqSBCN0siojh-bq8i7Rche5VAA0ksuFCeUq5B8pUyb_n3739QRQibwg/s1600/IMG_4464.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidbPV8lP32rMzohrIC34NHr0wb_HHatE7rYoMy5ghX48XbMcfmZvfxpPZfH4F_zLEx3GGrRugm_mZ-Xmeb0-_kXqSBCN0siojh-bq8i7Rche5VAA0ksuFCeUq5B8pUyb_n3739QRQibwg/s320/IMG_4464.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good night from Thamuang</td></tr>
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The Thamuang Farang.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16259640085239432367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-72509289925154032762012-09-02T16:09:00.002+01:002012-09-02T16:21:56.401+01:00Community Matters<div style="text-align: justify;">
During the last twelve months I have been part of a committee set up by Diggle's Community Association seeking to acquire the now defunct Methodist Chapel, known as Wrigley Mill, for the future use and benefit of Diggle's community.</div>
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After a lot of hard work, time and energy a bid was prepared and submitted to the Methodist Church, but it was subsequently rejected. The successful bid apparently is based on a commercial child nursery with some, as yet unknown, add ons for the greater benefit of the village. </div>
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The building was the focal point of Diggle for many years until the declining congregation forced the Methodists to close the church and sell it. It is fair to say that during the preparation of the bid we asked ourselves several times if Diggle residents wanted a centre for its community; somewhere to meet, hold events, create opportunities for the residents, and on balance we thought there was sufficient support. However, the fact that we had to ask the question in the first place, suggests that one outcome was that the village did not want a centre for amenities and that the residents are quite happy, thank you very much, without such resources. </div>
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Diggle has two pubs, both of which would welcome more customers. There is building serving the village brass bands, but financial difficulties have put its continued existence into doubt. The only surviving church is on the edge of village and has a cosy hall and small meeting room, however, the committee is constantly looking to create interest in the events and clubs that they so valiantly promote. Other than this there is a post office with a small shop that could easily expand to meet the demand. There is a thriving fish and chip shop. There are several small businesses operating from Wharf Mill and Ellis Mill - everything from beds, carpets, tiles, horse supplies, car repairs and knitting wools. There used to be gym and an Indian take away but these have sadly closed. There is small light industrial work at Shaw's Mill but agriculture is perhaps the dominant industry of the valley.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXvMPF-skCzxso2myDziQaNge5shD00krqxbHs52DL-DfA8UhuSF8wY3TS4CvUyTJeyHdj_uATXEklZbk4BCVN5u5KDI01P67tJCCKD9kMABDzqSL8jkX2xF2ugGahs7AHzXCFF996Puo/s1600/IMG_3968.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXvMPF-skCzxso2myDziQaNge5shD00krqxbHs52DL-DfA8UhuSF8wY3TS4CvUyTJeyHdj_uATXEklZbk4BCVN5u5KDI01P67tJCCKD9kMABDzqSL8jkX2xF2ugGahs7AHzXCFF996Puo/s320/IMG_3968.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wrigley Mill - Diggle. Former Methodist Church </td></tr>
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The focal point for Thamuang's community is its temple. It is used for many events from Thai boxing to pop concerts, polling station to weekly markets. The temple and its facilities serve the community well, almost every day of the week.</div>
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Buddhism is central to the lives of most of the residents of Thamuang. This obviously makes the temple a focal point for individual as well as communal prayer. The temple is home to several full time monks. and tradition dictates that their meals are provided by the villagers twice a day, every day, at 6:00am and 11:00 am.</div>
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There is no other central point for the community - no pubs, band halls, churches. There are many small shops; most selling household provisions, but you can buy petrol from three stations, and all sorts of diy hardware from cable clips to sewerage pipes from at least two shops. There a three or four motor cycle repair shops, and several places to get a day time meal for about 50 pence (fast food Thai style - fresh and hot). Thamuang's economy is agriculturally based with rice, cashew nuts, mulberry trees and the odd rubber tree growing in tropical monsoon conditions.</div>
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Thamuang's old temple was recently demolished and a new one is being built to replace it. I have not seen any plans, but you can be certain it will serve the community better than the old one. </div>
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Thamuang is a poor village. There is little spare cash to spend on extras like computers, cars and posh kitchens (for example). That does not mean to say people do not have mobiles, flat screen TVs and motorbikes. The village functions during the hours of day light; from dawn till dusk the villagers go about their work. Hours of darkness are for sleeping, and people rarely go out on any evening of the week.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Yb1zwClFkCW5KTLx8GZJzctdwaBBfXOyQgIJQcmR_VY-VRDXHgox_hSSoUabnjvr-X8MDEx-50uGhR1EWmJ_7wO58WzwbP3LRo98xFxqfma2rL1R3uXRKof2i4x2QZJI28PXAXNy6DI/s1600/IMG_0305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1Yb1zwClFkCW5KTLx8GZJzctdwaBBfXOyQgIJQcmR_VY-VRDXHgox_hSSoUabnjvr-X8MDEx-50uGhR1EWmJ_7wO58WzwbP3LRo98xFxqfma2rL1R3uXRKof2i4x2QZJI28PXAXNy6DI/s320/IMG_0305.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Old Buddhist Temple Thamuang - a new one is under construction!</td></tr>
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So why does Thamuang have more community spirit than Diggle? Or put another way, why don't Diggle residents want more of community spirit?</div>
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My simple answer is that Thamuang's community is united by Buddhist traditions with agriculture helping to bind the community together with a common structure. There is a common understanding and a simple way in which the community works together.</div>
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Perhaps in Diggle (and the west in general?) we are individuals in a world dominated by activities and interests in which we can divulge from the comfort of our favourite armchair. The diversity of our options means we do not have rely on each other or other organisations any more. We can, and do, for ourselves. Look at the stories of 40 or 50 more years ago in working class England - I can remember being a member of the scouts and youth club, based at the church. Our activities were less diverse and we needed each other to organise our lives and social activities. Industry was based in the village - textiles, engineering and agriculture. Because this way of life has changed; it has changed our our sense of community as well.</div>
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<br />The Thamuang Farang.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16259640085239432367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-73672711982558372922012-08-29T14:41:00.000+01:002012-08-29T14:55:50.261+01:00Not quite what I expected<div style="text-align: justify;">
We decided on a mid afternoon visit to Ubon. Nothing strange or unusual with that decision, except it was a treat after three days working on the house in sweltering conditions.</div>
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The re-painting of Owerrrouse is almost complete - well at least on the outside. I am certain we are going to paint inside as well, but one job at a time. </div>
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So, on the motorbike and into Ubon. Of course, in the west we take road safety very seriously and would not think about going out on a motorbike without a sturdy crash helmet. The law is catching up in Thailand and it is now compulsory to wear a helmet whilst either driving a motorbike or as a passenger. Except the law doesn't work in most rural villages and it is a common, often humorous sight, to see children as young as 12 or 13 riding a motorbike with great skill. The bike looks twice as big as they are, and very often they don't even wear shoes, never mind a crash helmet!</div>
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The law is a bit more strict in the urban areas, so with due regard to our safety as well as the law, we comply. However, there is a shortage of crash helmets in Owerrrouse, so we have borrow them. Khamma's is new, looks good and fits her well and belongs to her nephew. Mine is old, small and belongs to her cousin. We find it on the floor of the porch covered in dust. It is red and makes me look like an unlit match. I think of myself as a Swan Vesta. If something more severe than an ice lolly were to hit it, I'm certain it would crack my skull; the helmet not the ice lolly. It is more a hindrance than an essential aid to one's safety. It's no use complaining, I just wear it and sit on the back of the motorbike in a sulky silence knowing that I am complying with law, but in all probability if there were an accident, I am a goner. Did I re-write my Will? </div>
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I know next to nothing about motorbikes. I do know that a motor drives a chain, which is connected to the back wheel. This is how the bike moves. Over time, the chain becomes slack and if left unchecked it will become slacker and start to make a clattering noise. Today, the motorbike is suffering from what I describe to Khamma as a 'slack chain clatter'. No, she didn't understand either. However, we have a quick discussion and decide to call in at one of the myriad of roadside motorcycle repair garages. Back in England I'm sure you would have to make a booking for about 2 weeks in advance, but in this part of world, you can just drive in and ask the man to fix the problem.</div>
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The man in question today I nickname after Kevin Webster from Coronation Street. A cheeky grin, a sharp intake of breath and the words come out;</div>
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'Yer lookin at a big job 'ere pal. It's goin to cost ya a bob or two. Just sayin like!'</div>
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No sooner had I placed the top end of my Swan Vesta (the crash helmet) on the makeshift swing our Kevin had made out of old tyres, tow rope and an ancient motorcycle seat, than I saw two gleaming crash helmets in their dusty plastic bags. It didn't long to convince me to buy one, and at 360 bhat (£7) it seemed a snip.</div>
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Meanwhile, Kevin (that's not his real name) was busy tightening the chain, which took him about 5 minutes. He took the bike for a test drive, but his little daughter, who looked all of three years old, insisted on going with him. She stood the bike, held onto the mirrors and Dad drove off, into oncoming traffic, round the block. Luckily it was a quiet moment on Highway 2050 and they returned safe, both smiling, Kevin because he tightened the chain enough, daughter because she had been on ride with Dad.</div>
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Now here is where Kevin really impressed me. Ever since we bought the motorbike (Honda Wave - what else?), the front nearside handle bar panel has rattled. Experts and non experts alike have tried in vain to stop the rattle, but all have failed. However, Kevin knew exactly what the problem was, and in less than two minutes dis-assembled the entire panel and located the issue. An inner panel protecting the wiring for the lights, indicators and horn was not correctly fitted. All it need was a thick rubber washer and the rattle was gone. However, keen eyed Kevin also spotted some cabling that had become exposed. This was confirmed by Khamma who said the indicators hadn't worked for weeks! So Kevin wrapped some insulation tape around the cable, fixed the rattle, re-assembled the handle bar unit, tightened the chain and had the audacity to charge me 20 bhat - about 45 pence!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I get told off for not charging enough for a Will!</div>
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I am going back later this week so he can service the bike from front to back, top to bottom. Customer service, first class. I recommend Kevin from Yankerdow (the name of the village) for his workmanship. So we put on our helmets and began to look like proper bikers. OK that's taking it a little too far, but set off again for Ubon.</div>
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Our slight diversion was at the expense of losing some daylight. It goes dark in these parts at 6:00pm and it is wise not to ride a motorcycle in the dark. The only thing worse is driving in the dark in a thunderstorm. As we left Ubon the dark clouds of Issan assembled to rage their anger on the flat lands of north east Thailand. It started to thrash with rain. We bought cheap plastic rain jackets (like the old Pac-a-Macs) in the vain hope of keeping dry. They were useful, but I can't think why; it just seemed the logical thing to do. As we left Big C a shallow wave of water, only about a centimetre high, steady flowed into the car park like a tsunami, from the street. Just outside the car park we were driving through a foot of water and in danger of drowning the bike. Khamma's riding skills saw us through the worst, but not for long as stretches of the road, and the houses alongside it, began to flood.</div>
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We kept on going as it grew darker, rained harder and lightening struck in the distance. My new helmet kept most of the water off my face, but my new cheap plastic rain jacket completely failed to keep me dry. It was a difficult journey home, but Khamma has done this many times.</div>
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Now as I sit in Owerrrouse musing over the eventful afternoon, I marvel at the way the Thai people 'just get on with it'. It being life. They don't ask for favours, they are resourceful and very skilled with getting on with life. Have we in the west lost touch with these skills and attitudes? It is a bit like the bridge issue I wrote of earlier this week. There's the problem, this is the solution, now let's get on with it and four weeks later everyone's life is better. In the west we are too good at looking for problems, then forming committees to find a solution, listening to everyone from health and safety to regulation of standards and quangos, then deciding it is too expensive. Result; the issue gets worse. I know that's simplistic, but watching Kevin today made me a little humble and very thoughtful. We have a lot to learn, still.</div>
The Thamuang Farang.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16259640085239432367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-32995031951723779212012-08-26T14:36:00.001+01:002012-08-26T14:43:09.904+01:00Temple Celebrations<div style="text-align: justify;">
The telephone rings - it's Khamma's Mama, and it is 5:45am, Sunday 26 August 2012. I am, or was, in a deep sleep. Khamma's voice rises as she reminds her Mama of the time and yes, she does know she has to make food for the monks and the special party at the temple - but it doesn't start until 11:00am, now go back to sleep. Well at least that is what Khamma tells me she said - it could have been a lot worse from the sound of it.</div>
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I ask what party is this, because it is the first I have heard about a knees up. I still don't know why there was a party, but it was something like a birthday, but not birthday. Many important monks were coming from other temples to Thamuang to join in the fun. Sounds like a good opportunity, so I checked if I would be welcome - no problem.</div>
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I think Khamma started to panic a little bit because she was ushering me to leave the house at 9:00 am. I did notice a lot of other people, dressed in their finest traditional clothes, making their way to the temple and this seemed to 'hurry her up.' Sadly Khamma's Mama did not attend. She is still recovering from her illness and cannot sit or stand for long periods of time, so she is best at home where she can decide for herself. A lovely lady though, who is deeply religious and obviously upset at not attending.</div>
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The old temple has been demolished and work has just started on a new one. I suspect there is a lot fund raising going on, especially as the chief monk greets me like an old lost friend. I am actually very flattered, and it goes down well with the onlookers.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9h2Le1JS14GQ7iLzYZrRBQZoapwmi9XNRltTHSsXL079goz2x0WdTR9Qf1OTNMv6gft0ll3rEEI-P4v75Is3Sj5EfLfOhJ3TvxqJGeEhDWjbXQMolxdup8mLkwe3EivoGzKLoirzH6P8/s1600/IMG_0305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9h2Le1JS14GQ7iLzYZrRBQZoapwmi9XNRltTHSsXL079goz2x0WdTR9Qf1OTNMv6gft0ll3rEEI-P4v75Is3Sj5EfLfOhJ3TvxqJGeEhDWjbXQMolxdup8mLkwe3EivoGzKLoirzH6P8/s200/IMG_0305.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The old temple</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5cH54hmfTXfYl-pO5WpsxGpK_LsSESQ9ZpPrKxnuCT7yOK8sYqr3R2VF28irgRGsCw9eaHzv1yP6NFalde1JhxcxLt3N4SSOUhWeEelNF0K6YfOGdrq7JBIxTm7BRSZmzLwUdxVl_ijg/s1600/IMG_4398.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5cH54hmfTXfYl-pO5WpsxGpK_LsSESQ9ZpPrKxnuCT7yOK8sYqr3R2VF28irgRGsCw9eaHzv1yP6NFalde1JhxcxLt3N4SSOUhWeEelNF0K6YfOGdrq7JBIxTm7BRSZmzLwUdxVl_ijg/s200/IMG_4398.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The new temple under construction </td></tr>
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The leader of the village is a family friend, and he quickly invited me to sit at the front of the makeshift temple, which was bit of an honour. It also put me on show to the rest of the assembled crowd. I cannot sit on the floor for very long without getting cramp, neither can I sit cross legged as my worn out knees and knotted leg muscles refuse to be flexible. My heart sank as Khamma said this was going to be a long session.</div>
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However, it was interesting watching the arrival of the senior monks and the respect shown to their position in the temple. They were greeted with humility, reverence and they responded with smiles and compassion. I was very impressed with how they could sit on the floor without flinching or any sign of discomfort. Unlike my position which was being threatened by a lack blood supply to my right buttock and right arm; due to all my weight resting on those body parts for the last thirty minutes. The problem is, you have to be careful where you point your feet - do not point them, or the soles, in the direction of a monk. This is tantamount to blasphemy, especially as most of village was intrigued at my lack of mobility. Anyway I shuffled and somehow found a part of my backside that hadn't been rendered physically insensible by the pressure between body and concrete floor.</div>
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The climax was a long blessing and prayer from the assembled monks. The chanting is deep and hypnotic - evidenced by a few sleepers, and goes on for a longtime, which was further bad news for the dead leg that had caught up with my numb bum.</div>
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I saw an opportunity when another honoured guest alongside me got up and walked to the side. I did the same and limped out of the hall trying to get much need blood into my leg. I noted I had been sat there for 90 minutes - 85 of them in agony!!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8uV-l8HzqreSQNlJ5ctJRWaNwlSuOACrB6X7YVD1MOzChPxyfIJAkiES9y5Wa8SI_0mtxW_SbhTi4TWGpsBeQOkoYoIUTPgMGnTQJf54qtviAFqeNhrd0GP3DQxNa_oG4pQinniXWJek/s1600/IMG_4396.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8uV-l8HzqreSQNlJ5ctJRWaNwlSuOACrB6X7YVD1MOzChPxyfIJAkiES9y5Wa8SI_0mtxW_SbhTi4TWGpsBeQOkoYoIUTPgMGnTQJf54qtviAFqeNhrd0GP3DQxNa_oG4pQinniXWJek/s320/IMG_4396.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leader invites me to sit at the front</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhlHghG3kSZicEdSC3xm7z5dNbac0jkJ7IqUp4fBaFAi8RpzEn8_7ndvtepc2dUK3SYWVkZv-UeBWgy52OQiHLL_BoW360l6aaQVlFkjtpJrqaWvoOFDvz-iZzRhtAFOtDQdpLbhYQWnQ/s1600/IMG_4397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhlHghG3kSZicEdSC3xm7z5dNbac0jkJ7IqUp4fBaFAi8RpzEn8_7ndvtepc2dUK3SYWVkZv-UeBWgy52OQiHLL_BoW360l6aaQVlFkjtpJrqaWvoOFDvz-iZzRhtAFOtDQdpLbhYQWnQ/s320/IMG_4397.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The rest of the village were seated further back</td></tr>
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<br />The Thamuang Farang.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16259640085239432367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-33979089458101042342012-08-26T13:46:00.001+01:002012-08-26T13:47:47.212+01:00It rains in Thamuang as it rains in Diggle<div style="text-align: justify;">
Yesterday a picture of the weather in Diggle was posted on Facebook. At the same time there was some banter about the thunder and lightening and how it could be an interesting ride for the man on top of the Saddleworth Rushcart. (The Rushcart is an annual celebration held in Saddleworth by various groups of Morris men). Another washed out Bank Holiday weekend.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Diggle August 2012</td></tr>
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You might think that I am enjoying good weather in Thailand - well it isn't cold, but isn't all sunshine either:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking out of the front door yesterday morning</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caught out by a flash flood</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Threatening sunset tonight</td></tr>
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<br />The Thamuang Farang.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16259640085239432367noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1382939990035485540.post-83480987803119040222012-08-23T14:42:00.002+01:002012-09-05T11:04:02.535+01:00Two villages Two bridges<div style="text-align: justify;">
This is blog post about how two different villages go about fixing bridges. I hope to be very impartial (difficult) and therefore leave you to make up your own mind on the issues.</div>
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Diggle</div>
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A small village in Saddleworth, northern England between Oldham and Huddersfield. The village lies in a valley with abundant small water courses, including a canal. It is not known as flood zone, despite an average annual rainfall of (approx) 47 inches because the water courses effectively carry the water quickly downstream to the River Tame. However, to those who are blessed with a keen eye, you cannot mistake that on three sides of the village there are steep hills, with Huddersfield Road (to the north) being the most obvious as it exits the village. Needless to say, flowing down the road is a fair proportion of the annual rainfall with Thorns Clough, the little tributary to Diggle Brook running parallel about 50 feet below in the valley base.</div>
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More or less at the bottom of Huddersfield Road (north) is Carr Lane. This is a steep road linking the northern end of the village to A670. It is short but steep, probably classed as a single track road and at its lowest point there is a bridge. Thorns Clough runs under the bridge and at it widest I would say it is three metres, in full flow.</div>
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It took the best part of a year and half to rebuild this bridge! Well, I said I would impartial, OK the walls and banking along the road have been reinforced, which was a considerable job and as modern dry stone wall examples go, I would say cannot be bettered, but all the while the bridge was under repair as well.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5FB_thztUKi7w_QbwJBQoEQlvuJ0dNnHOcRtYj8n0oCMDqG0Luqij_JBmSObHlS5OPLHeK0RO7C1x_ZOxktgjcfnvtftVpXizy5C4DOcar4gOPeHEKWepjPlpGxKolNIinudnrDz6hmQ/s1600/IMG_4077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5FB_thztUKi7w_QbwJBQoEQlvuJ0dNnHOcRtYj8n0oCMDqG0Luqij_JBmSObHlS5OPLHeK0RO7C1x_ZOxktgjcfnvtftVpXizy5C4DOcar4gOPeHEKWepjPlpGxKolNIinudnrDz6hmQ/s320/IMG_4077.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A fine piece of civil engineering</td></tr>
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Even when the project was completed there was a temporary closure as a good deal of the annual rainfall fell in 24 hours and cascaded, as it has done for centuries, down Huddersfield Road. As we know from school physics, water is susceptible to gravity, and in this case there was a convenient right turn down Carr Lane to the bridge. The result was that half Carr Lane disappeared and ended in Thorn Clough. The bridge was fine, but Carr Lane was a mess.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcp7d6BckfZfA0kadLjpPizROgqe9YgHyOT8vakJgitxE3VnSkrSrDwbL5uZ7N119iwJiLhOp0XNGtAQVqTc8uc6UyMpvhZ246cnehP4cBJDXplyiSnpysGmhG19x5ABvyuW8TSnzLHUg/s1600/IMG_4075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcp7d6BckfZfA0kadLjpPizROgqe9YgHyOT8vakJgitxE3VnSkrSrDwbL5uZ7N119iwJiLhOp0XNGtAQVqTc8uc6UyMpvhZ246cnehP4cBJDXplyiSnpysGmhG19x5ABvyuW8TSnzLHUg/s320/IMG_4075.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A well engineered bridge to last until the next millenium</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwe1yLR8jC1fQv0mP6kQ1WXSNdyEzgLUWrnClPYHAyvjEo-LL-xN_j_JpRc2hxDA3Vhai_z6lbA7RCbV2M7nXXKMJyI1hhJ4jPvDFLx418PshsulysBORC5h_qzBskoXFM1t01gEjrqyw/s1600/Carr_Lane_Diggle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwe1yLR8jC1fQv0mP6kQ1WXSNdyEzgLUWrnClPYHAyvjEo-LL-xN_j_JpRc2hxDA3Vhai_z6lbA7RCbV2M7nXXKMJyI1hhJ4jPvDFLx418PshsulysBORC5h_qzBskoXFM1t01gEjrqyw/s400/Carr_Lane_Diggle.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Disaster as the first flood washes the road away</td></tr>
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If you are so inclined you can read more about the saga by following the link <a href="http://www.diggle-news.com/wp" target="_blank">www.diggle-news.com/wp</a> Photo above courtesy of Stuart Coleman - Diggle News<br />
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Now we move on:</div>
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Thamuang</div>
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A small village about 40 kilometres north of Ubon Ratchathani, north east Thailand, about 6 kilometres from Highway 2050. The village lies on the flood plain on the River Sa, which eventually reaches the world famous River Mekong in about 50 kilometres. There is a not a hill of any significance anywhere. There is substantial annual rainfall of 60 inches (approx) most of which (55 inches) falls during the rainy season between May and September. The problem arises when the river overflows. The land is so flat, the floods rise without warning. </div>
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The villagers have built houses on stilts to prevent flood water ruining their homes, or, as we have done, to raise the building land a couple of metres above the flood level. </div>
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The main road into the village has to cross a small tributary that flows into the River Sa. Without the bridge the diversion to the main road is about 20 miles (which is a long time on a Honda Wave motorbike). The bridge finally succumbed and had to be replaced in August 2010 - the height of the monsoon rainfall.</div>
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The workman took about 4 weeks to replace it, and each and every one was a hero. As I passed the temporary crossing, when it was available, they all waved a shouted out my name, a very friendly hard working bunch.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFrfAvZWOsd5jzJdldGkieHohyphenhyphenYEaKACpzTZQ_RhfHJPNQ2_REJaZSfRZVcenZrJPV_ld2bazqLVCJdMGcY60NFcUEJBAt1Pgipri64cnQfXmT1LiQw8u4ABEDT3NGYCzJ-H15mM-mD-M/s1600/IMG_2671.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFrfAvZWOsd5jzJdldGkieHohyphenhyphenYEaKACpzTZQ_RhfHJPNQ2_REJaZSfRZVcenZrJPV_ld2bazqLVCJdMGcY60NFcUEJBAt1Pgipri64cnQfXmT1LiQw8u4ABEDT3NGYCzJ-H15mM-mD-M/s320/IMG_2671.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Construction of the bridge in flood conditions</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdHR3F66YebWp7CZryrzptUYWZnTro1JwwsyJnzXLqpt2xK3tHmQEf-rHlHMpaDiJpi2t96edl6_0sJApe9D119EcOmnFqno33UL4nGOmeQNK6V_GmjFxQDpo0Lz3j_Pouf4SwSyme2h4/s1600/IMG_2674.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdHR3F66YebWp7CZryrzptUYWZnTro1JwwsyJnzXLqpt2xK3tHmQEf-rHlHMpaDiJpi2t96edl6_0sJApe9D119EcOmnFqno33UL4nGOmeQNK6V_GmjFxQDpo0Lz3j_Pouf4SwSyme2h4/s320/IMG_2674.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A Just Do It attitude </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijHWkDBfRuq4cbH0W8sWiYM3Skm9jaNj-eWhLdldhHavMda_ibQ4QZLsYuruuJ7MXo1qp4sYLKfZbvG-0BTmsn1YSj28b8Gq2Yi2YKUE9wkvznZOy3g1XD5vrzBx4ZUTTvisXCcguSu9M/s1600/IMG_2676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijHWkDBfRuq4cbH0W8sWiYM3Skm9jaNj-eWhLdldhHavMda_ibQ4QZLsYuruuJ7MXo1qp4sYLKfZbvG-0BTmsn1YSj28b8Gq2Yi2YKUE9wkvznZOy3g1XD5vrzBx4ZUTTvisXCcguSu9M/s320/IMG_2676.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">OK the water is warmer - but there's more of it</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRmWrxdNM3UKZYbky-DJ-8XnXz1M1qxfD8ddjP37i6HNvEjrgkiph0m9-JnZMrXX6M0OPwoFCuutILNd0vrGsW2p2jl4vWDysJXlCjOFZl4lAzdy13AGFafts7fwUQWhadiJ7GYHk7NCs/s1600/IMG_2679.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRmWrxdNM3UKZYbky-DJ-8XnXz1M1qxfD8ddjP37i6HNvEjrgkiph0m9-JnZMrXX6M0OPwoFCuutILNd0vrGsW2p2jl4vWDysJXlCjOFZl4lAzdy13AGFafts7fwUQWhadiJ7GYHk7NCs/s320/IMG_2679.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Temporary spans in place</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjl_vF9nR2PcA1EGSO28vMR9oPFZkAkLMk75Ich2wGTtkOuNa7Or6U9In_42PgrvtHyTKExHBTT-fEjS_JeNsuvvUXMKhoCxRiRgwXT1hfE9ahx6DTcuNGMQgPC0hYP9JpY3tuqa9Jstw/s1600/IMG_2731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjl_vF9nR2PcA1EGSO28vMR9oPFZkAkLMk75Ich2wGTtkOuNa7Or6U9In_42PgrvtHyTKExHBTT-fEjS_JeNsuvvUXMKhoCxRiRgwXT1hfE9ahx6DTcuNGMQgPC0hYP9JpY3tuqa9Jstw/s320/IMG_2731.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Next day - more flood water</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Serious construction work</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1nbwTsQZ2TTBdko8AwNgdAdZBrGiOgX3SeAEQmvWByINbck01t9AN-6JFpC4EiPOO-PQkWjK_kiUncPH0fyjWkAIazmX6g3CMIi-JkBpbEtSC2jqbrN5QhI7v1zX_X6NY5Udi6CVWYc/s1600/IMG_4442.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1nbwTsQZ2TTBdko8AwNgdAdZBrGiOgX3SeAEQmvWByINbck01t9AN-6JFpC4EiPOO-PQkWjK_kiUncPH0fyjWkAIazmX6g3CMIi-JkBpbEtSC2jqbrN5QhI7v1zX_X6NY5Udi6CVWYc/s320/IMG_4442.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The finished bridge</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9treajL3YksfrxmeqcF0o3OPHz9y3S210s8AiaAGmbKIpuAFtIR8aeLxcYP8dVKOLHSXY_94YUFUz5EzGRsLjapWKXcZOpTt4l6US-WYTCCK70_n1aMQukfx7YnvJjt24qSEo-Kbfx4U/s1600/IMG_4443.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9treajL3YksfrxmeqcF0o3OPHz9y3S210s8AiaAGmbKIpuAFtIR8aeLxcYP8dVKOLHSXY_94YUFUz5EzGRsLjapWKXcZOpTt4l6US-WYTCCK70_n1aMQukfx7YnvJjt24qSEo-Kbfx4U/s320/IMG_4443.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The finished bridge (Take 2)</td></tr>
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As I have said, I want to be impartial in contrasting the two projects. Therefore, I have summarised the prevailing conditions of both locations, the needs of each village and shown you how each working group performed and to some extent the results of their efforts. </div>
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However, I must say the Thais have shown Oldham Council how to build bridges! I received an email on 3 September 2012 stating the road and bridge are closed again for repairs - this is almost TWO years after the project started.</div>
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<br />The Thamuang Farang.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16259640085239432367noreply@blogger.com0