Sunni Dawson

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Kathmandu: the first 24 hours

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Exiting the plane my whole body smiled. No humidity. No humidity! NO HUMIDITY! Yes, yes, YES!!!!
Sunshine and rubble
A pleasant 30 degrees Celsius and no humidity. I just came from Myanmar, at 8pm at night it was 31 degrees, dark and I had dribbles of sweat emanating from my brow, knee creases and behind my earlobes. The word ‘unbearable’ does little to describe how overwhelming I found the mixture of sun, dust and lets just say at least 152.59% humidity was. Needless to say I could not be found outside between 10am and 5pm. 
 
But here, it was 31 degrees, in the mid afternoon heat and I could actually breathe! You little ripper!  I looked around the airport runway and noted the many massive plastic wrapped packages, supplies yet to be distributed.
 
I walked amongst the throng of 250 Nepali men swarming around me with an ‘all-in’ survival mode determination to the baggage claim. I was one of three white people in the plane and the only white female in amongst a handful of women. I had gotten used to the gapping mouths by everyone in Myanmar, but this plane ride took it to a whole new level. A captive prey, with every tiny move scrutinised with magnetic gazes and not so subtle filming. These cat eyes found a new fascination: the conveyor belt. 
 
The conveyor belt was packed full of packages of all ranges of sizes: TVs, stitch tied boxes, large cheap suitcases. These men were coming back home from working in Malaysia. The air host explained to me, ‘We have a lot of Nepalese workers in Malaysia, normally this plane is sold out, but there are a few empty seats today’ (note: I didn’t see many spares). 
Support perhaps?

 

My taxi driver was a very affable young Nepalese man. Smiling and friendly without the open mouth thing. I asked him about Kathmandu since the quakes.

 
‘Many people are scared. Very scared. A lot of people are homeless.’ He pointed out the vast numbers of tents in the small spaces of land that were not taken up by buildings or rubble.
 
‘Many people’s homes collapsed, but some people, even if their homes are okay, are too scared to stay inside incase another earthquake comes. Many people have left Kathmandu. They are too scared to stay here.’
 
‘Have they gone back to their villages?’
 
‘Yes, to help their families and work for them. Most people come to Kathmandu for work, but they are too afraid to stay here. For example, it normally takes during the day one hour to get from the airport into Thamel. It now only takes 15 minutes. Everyone is gone.’
Life continuing

I look around to see the swarming motorbikes, cars, trucks, people, dogs and (so much inner excitement here) cows! I haven’t seen roaming cows for a few years since my venture to India. I love cows. And free cows especially. I wondered what this unorganised beehive would be like in its ‘normal’ state.

I ask him how his family is. ‘My family is from a small village an hour or so outside of Kathmandu. They are okay, but their home was destroyed.’

‘I am sorry to hear that.’
 
He smiled. ‘No, don’t be sorry, its okay, they are not the only ones. A 1000 homes were destroyed in my village.’
 
Ummm, wow. My mind wandered back to the responses of people in Queensland’s (Australia) worst natural disaster in recent history in 2011. I was apart of the recovery efforts. I remember hearing many people (not everyone, granted) complaining and blaming the government (for a natural disaster mind you) for their homes being damaged or destroyed. Of course this is horrible and devastating, I too was affected, but I reflected on this very different reaction to a natural disaster that killed over 9000, injured thousands more and rendered over 450 000 homeless (in Queenland’s disaster, 38 people were killed and thousands of homes were destroyed) and people with no insurance.
One of the many nice restaurants here.
A stark contrast.


Most foreigners who are in the Thamel area (the tourist area of Kathmandu filled with beautiful restaurants, mountain gear shops, cashmere and trinkets) are here for recovery assistance. This makes Thamel currently an interesting place to be. Most businesses and almost everyone in Kathmandu are helping the recovery efforts in some way. One restaurant I ate at had installed a sample monsoon shelter for the homeless they are raising money for.

On the outskirts of Thamel
There are a lot of local people and groups that have taken initiative in recovery efforts. These groups are facilitating assistance in ways larger organisations are not (for a variety of reasons). I am going to be documenting some of the fantastic work these groups are doing here.
 
One of the initial inspiring things I’ve heard about within my first 24 hours is two guys who have come from the Philippines to teach locals how to make homes, using local materials of mud, bamboo etc, earthquake proof. They are going out into villages to teach locals adjustments to their current building style or completely new techniques.
 
The Eco Brick!

One of these men is also into building ‘Ecobricks’. Plastic bottles filled with plastic bags. This Ecobrick has about 60 plastic bags in this one bottle. Eco bricks are about turning plastic that is not biodegradable into something that is an incredibly useful solution to a huge environmental problem. PET plastics will last 300-500 years if kept away from direct sunlight. And they make incredibly good bricks / building materials that can be used over and over again!

ecobricks.org website has a free kit that anyone can use (including info for teachers and schools) and they are currently getting it translated into Nepali as you can see, this is the first draft.
The Eco Brick guide in english, its first Nepalese translation and a sample brick!
Many more inspiring stories to come!

I miss you already.

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I miss you already.

 





 

 

 

 

 

 

Your red balled sunsets, 

 

orchid filled cocktails,
and lusty fruits.

 











 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Your shapely beaches,



contented palms,

 














 








and shimmering skies.

 


Your pretty peoples,



 


decadent treats,

 


and stickiness.


Your wild ideas,


opposing contrasts,

 












and teeming coconuts.

 



Your uneventful ease,

 





multicoloured tastes,
 









and deep touches.
 



Your meandering sway,

 



lapping waters,



and dangerous hills.


 
Your allowance of all,

 






random conversations









and profound knowing.
 









Your overt openness,
 










sweet shakes




 

and hazy, devotional reggae.

 

 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your rejection of the old,

gutsy four legged friends





























and continual sweat.

 






Your piece of peace,










joyful growth











and purest simplicity.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 





Your languishing laziness,




graceful hammocks





  
and sublime vistas.
My bungalow view I am leaving behind after 6 months!










Thank you.

 

    









From everything I have, thank you.

‘My son and daughter are marrying each other’ and other Thai superstitions…

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‘Hey Ernie, what have you been up to?’
 
‘You know life mate, busy with my two 3 year olds. They never stop!’
 
‘You’ve got your hands full for sure!’
 
‘Yes, but having a few days off next week. My son and my daughter are marrying each other.’
 
I looked at him quizzically, trying desperately to make sense of what he was saying.
 
‘Yes, it’s Thai superstition, if you have twins who are born both boy and girl they are thought to have been lovers in a previous life. It is said if they don’t get married in their first years of the current life, that something bad will happen to them and they won’t live past 8 years old.’
 
‘Wow.’
 
‘But my wife said, ‘but no sex, just marriage.’’
 
‘Thank god for that!’
 
‘Yes, can you just imagine what my mother said!’
Offerings to the spirits…

 

His mother, a proper English lady, with white cropped curls, precisely made face and pressed dresses sat at the bar watching Ernie night after night when she visited. She preferred that over spending more time with her daughter in law.
 
Laughing loudly, ‘Yes, I imagine it would have taken her some time to come to terms with that!’
 
‘Indeed. She can’t come out for it, so I said I’d film it for her.’
 
‘Oh great, I’d be really curious to see what happens in the ceremony.’
 
‘Apparently it goes on for a few hours, but I can’t imagine my two standing in the one spot for very long.’
 
‘For sure, two active 3 year olds! So how do you feel about it?’
 
‘Well after my wife emphasised no sex, and I heard about some of the stories my wife told me about when ceremonies have not been done and bad things have happened to kids, I thought well its better to be on the safe side. I want them to grow up safe and happy.’
 
‘Nice.’
 
‘And can they marry whomever they want when they grow up?’
 
Nodding, ‘Yes for sure.’ Smiling, ‘It will be like little muppets together, marrying each other!’
 
About a week later I saw him again. He showed me the footage of his two children in the ceremony. The boy and girl  wore the same sparkling sapphire tops, the cutest little Thai pants and proud red lipstick. The only real difference between them was that his girl wore just slightly longer hair and a tiny red clip to the side of her head.
 
The video showed the two children go up to the line of Buddhist monks. Each child had a small string tied around their wrist by the monk who said some words and smiled at their overt vibrancy. The 3 year olds ran back and forth from the monks into their mother’s arms, smiling and giggling.
 
And that was it. 
 
No other fan fare ensued. Except for the child sized drum kits they were given by some relatives. They children hugged each other with glee. The next photos were drum kits and concentrated but delighted faces.
Spirit houses
As one of my Thai friends told me: ‘Being Thai is complicated. Not like farang. My daughter she sick when she born, we go to temple and monk said when she 15 she must shave her hair and come and stay at the temple for one week.’
 
I did a little research on some other Thai superstitions, and there are plenty of interesting ones:
 
1. Do not cut your hair on Wednesdays (or give birth on Wednesday), it is very bad luck.
 
One of the oldest & cutest spirit houses I’ve seen!

2. Make sure you leave food and water in your spirit houses for the spirits. Spirits live in their own little houses outside. That stops them from bothering you inside your home.

3. If you hear a Tokay Gecko (‘Tuk-kae’ which has such adistinctive loud call, like the inbreath of a plastic toy frog in a bath, too cute to be frightening) as you are leaving your house, DON’T go out! Something bad will happen to you, so stay home! 🙂
Tokay Gecko




4. If you dream of a snake, you will soon meet your soulmate! 
 
 
And for my Aussie friends: if a toad enters your home it will bring good luck! So welcome those toads guys! 🙂

Thai women collecting cockle to eat

 

The Queen of the Thai forest

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My head jolted back against the glass as the motor cracked into motion. The change of gears made me wince as Tom got used to bashed up, sandy floored jeep.
 
The process of hiring was simple. Hand over your passport and you get the keys. No mileage check, pay per kilometre or fuel discussions. Here’s the key, and if you’re lucky there might just be enough fuel to last until the next village so you can fill her up. Maybe.
 
‘Oh my god, I just felt water on my feet!’
 
Laughing, ‘How?’
 
‘I dunno, but I think there’s a hole in the floor of the passenger seat.’

 

I looked around my cramped up knees in the back. My butt cheeks barely found a resting place. The ‘seat’ was at best a pineapple length wide (without the head). And it would be a wild wild fantasy to suggest that seatbelts existed back here. So I clutched the seat in front and smiled. So glad Tom is driving this thing!
 

We headed to some of the postcard pretty northern beaches before deciding to find ‘the biggest tree on the island’. 

‘I didn’t bring a map, but I think it’s off this road from what I can remember.’
 
We drove through a sun sprinkled, palm tingling lusciousness to a peak of ragged rolling green.
 
‘Ok, so I saw a sign for the tree pointing this way.’
 
‘Great, it’s got to be along this path. I’ll keep looking at the signs facing the opposite direction, just incase.’
 
We commenced our decent and I spotted another sign pointing in our direction.
 
‘Ok, it’s got to be down here.’
 
We arrived at a T intersection. No sign of a sign. We drove right.
 
Michelle spots some locals chopping coconuts, and call out, ‘Do you know where the biggest tree is?’

 

The wrinkled man and woman look at each other, momentarily stopping from their bent over positions, grasping rusty blades to stare at the farangs in the jeep. Eventually the man points his hand down the road. 
 
‘Kop Kune Ka’ we yell as Tom inches forward.
 
We pass several off shoots of roads. ‘I’m sure it’s off one of these little roads – that’s what it looked like on the map to me.’
 
‘But there’s no sign. There should be a sign.’
 
‘We are in Thailand guys.’
 
‘Lets try that road’ Michelle points to the street we just passed.
 
‘Thanks for letting me know.’ Tom’s sinewy arms pull the wheel around in a wide circle. 
 
We follow a few more streets with small houses of bamboo and recycled wood, naked children laughing in big black tubs of water and a tattooed Thai guy.
 
‘Excuse me, do you know where the big tree is?’
 
Nodding and smiling, ‘Wait, wait.’
 
He disappears and brings back a warm eyed woman. ‘You need to go to main road and straight, straight down.’ Meanwhile he scribbles a few lines, without street names.
 
‘Kop kun mar mar Kaaaaaaaaa’ I yell as we drive off waving. ‘They just described the directions to the Big C Supermarket! Big tree, Big C… Same same!’

‘Gotta love cross cultural communication.’

‘Oh look – lets try that road’, Michelle pointed to one opposite, ‘that looks vaguely like what they described.’ Tom turned the jeep around for the fourth time.
 
It was a bumpy dirt track. Locals stared at us from their tiny dusty abodes.
 
‘Look at those crazy farang, what are they doing here? This is not the way, but hang on, there are some tourist  buses. It must be it!’
 
‘Yes, and there seems to be a big tree over there!’
 
Hobbling along a bit further, there didn’t seem to be an obvious path to a larger looking tree behind some shacks.
 
‘Excuse me, big tree?’

 
Confused expressions ensued.
 
‘Look, I reckon it must be the big tree. Ok, we’ve seen the big tree, lets go to this wave beach you were telling us about.’
 
‘Lets just try this one more street.’
 
‘Ok.’
 
We were led to a main road. ‘Ok, obviously that wasn’t it.’
 
We traverse the tall windy hills to the ‘full moon’ beach. Aka Haad Rin. I hadn’t been to this beach in four years, and never during the day, so I was curious. 
 
The ‘waves’ at Haad Rin beach

I smirk when I see when I see the ‘waves’ at Haad Rin beach. Waves are a generous word for what I saw as cocktail glass clinking movements. Extremely gentle, like little sips of a blue hawaii at sunset. Not the full body slaps of Australian waters. The ones that can knock the life out of you, and your togs.

 
‘Look here’s a big map! Let’s see whether the tree is marked on that!’
 
‘See it? I’m sure I know which 7/11 that is!’ 
 
‘So do I’ Tom laughs ‘7/11s are few and far between here!’
 
‘I really want to find the tree’ Michelle echos my inner enthusiasm. I have never seen three people so eager to find a tree.
 
‘That’s the 7/11, it’s got to be.’
 
‘Oh look, that’s a sign for a doubled headed coconut tree. Maybe we could find that!’ Tom and I stare at Michelle.
‘It seemed to be near that temple… oh look, oh look – there’s the sign!’ 
 
‘We’ve found it!!’ 
 
‘It doesn’t look as big as I thought it would be.’
 
‘No.’


‘It says biggest Yang Na tree.’

‘I guess we should walk around it.’

 

This biggest Yang Na tree is estimated to be 400 years old. The Yang Na is the queen of the forest because, as you can see in the photo – they shoot to the top of the canopy and can live to up to 700 years! ‘Yang’ means resin and ‘Na’ means ricefields. These trees

were found in and around ricefields, they cope with flooding and provide nutrients to the fields. The resin has been used by Thais in the past for a range of uses including torches and sealing of boats, but is being investigated for potential diesel and biofuel possibilities.

We found it!


After all that hard work, we decided we needed a drink, from the prettiest of perches.

The Bike Saga (Part 2)

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‘You don’t have a bike? And you’ve lived here for how long?’
 
Everyone I meet sings out this refrain.
 
‘Yes, I know. But I like walking. It’s a little challenging in this heat. But this body needs the exercise. Believe me. And it’s good to break up my all day typing too. And, if I had a bike, I’d get a little distracted. This way I keep myself focused on writing, walking and living simply here.’
 
Some responses:
 
‘Well, I take my hat off to yer. Those are bloody hard hills!’
 
‘I couldn’t do that in this heat, no way.’
 
‘But you miss out on seeing stuff. A lot of stuff!’
 
And my favourite was from a ex – pro American footballer turned Gym owner:
 
‘For sure that’s a work out. There ain’t no way I’m doing that!’
The bikes look so cute and innocent, easy to ride, right?
But when my friends recently came for a visit, I decided I wanted to show them a bit of the island (and perhaps see some of the isle myself!). My friend Tom who rides a motorbike back in Australia said he would teach me.
 
It couldn’t be that hard, could it? I mean, everyone rides a motorbike here. Everyone. I’m like a eucalyptus tree on a sandy beach. A loner in the heat with very little nutrients.

Remember my first post ‘To bike or not to bike‘? Everyone seemed to have an opinion.
The brakes look easy to use!

Tom points out the indicators. And explains that to make the bike ride faster, you have to twist the right handle down, and to stop I have to squeeze the breaks. Simple.

The bike jerks ahead before I got what was happening. It launches towards a rocky edge of the road. I squeeze both handles down to stop as I meet the edge.  My heart is doing little flip flops.
 
No, I can do this. I can do this. 
 
Simple!

I walk my bike around in a circle towards an enclosed house area with a driveway in between. A somewhat safe looking path.

 
‘Keep your feet out the whole time you are riding. It will help you balance.’
 
‘Ok.’ He’s noticed my incredible balancing abilities. I’m sure my previous life was as a tightrope walker. A tightrope walker that balanced 10 people on my head whilst holding a bar with trees growing out the end. I got out all my balancing abilities in that life, obviously.
 
I drive up the path and awkwardly turn around and come back.
 
‘Ok, I think I can do this. I’ll try again.’
 
Down is forward. Not stop. Down is forward, not stop. Shit!!!!
 
I narrowly miss the side of the house. I can do this. I can.
 
I turn around and drive back down the path again.
 
‘Okay, I think I’m right.’
 
‘Okay. So I want you to drive up that hill and come back down again.’
 
‘Really?’ My heart starts wagging like the dogs who are curiously looking on.
 
‘Yes, we’ll both go. Its better you try it here than when you’re out on the road.’
 
‘Ok.’
 
I follow Tom up the hill. I speed towards a parked car. Down is forward. Not stop. Damn!
 
I narrowly miss the car.

‘Ok now lets go down. You don’t need to accelerate down hill. Just let it roll and remember the brakes.’
 
The little hill

I feel my waggy tailed heart again. It’s ok, you can do this, no problems. Its just a little hill. Just a wee little hill.

The motor is running and I’m looking down the hill. I am stationary and  perched on the rocky top path. I watch Tom drive down the hill. It looks easy. It really does.


Ok, so to get this thing moving I do need to accelerate. That’s ok. I can. It’s possible.

I inch the accelerator down. 
 
The rocky path

Fuck! Shit!

 
I turn into the bushes at the side of the hill. I’m stopped but the motor is still running.
 
I notice my tummy has joined my heart and we’re all beating a techno beat. Shit!
 
‘I don’t know what to do.’
 
‘Ok, just move backwards.’
 
My failing attempts make Tom take over. 
 
‘You’ve freaked out haven’t you?’
 
I nod silently. My head screams: I am never getting on  a bike again! 
 
‘I’ll drive it back down.’ Thank you Tom.
 
I safely walk down the small hill. 
 
 
Betty, the Thai mama I stay with is delighted with my decision.
 
‘Good. You walking to Cafe and back, good. You not drive. Too dangerous for farang. Many farang accident and some time karput. Me happy. Me drive you to different beach today.’


I am grateful I can walk. And that I don’t have to ride a bike, and that occasionally, I get a lift. And even more grateful that a couple of days later my friends decided to rent a car so we could all explore the island together… this Sunday I will reveal our adventures, including the search for the mysterious tree!

Water fight. For the whole country.

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As we rounded the corner I screamed. The cold dump of water jolted me upright.

‘Ok, ok, I’m now awake!’ I exclaimed to my friends who appeared somewhat pleased at my plight. I looked down at my chest as I wiped hair out of my eyes. I was dry no longer.
 
They had been hit just a few minutes before, and again five minutes before that. My inner smirk at thinking I sat on the right side of the songthaew quickly evaporated.
 
I looked back down the road. Children of all ages laughingly watched as we disappeared from view.
 
‘We gotcha’ their faces explained with incredible glee.
 
Thai New Year. Songkran.
 
Songkran supplies in the 7/11
7/11 Songkran supplies
 
Its origins come from India, and the word ‘Songkran’ derives from the Sanskrit meaning to ‘change or transform’. Its the passage of the sun from one sign of the zodiac to another, and this particular change is celebrated when the sun enters Aries, also closely related to the Vernal Equinox. Laos, Myanmar, Cambodia and northern India also have related festivities around this time.
The water aspects of this celebration come from a spring cleaning idea: once a year water is poured on images and statues of Buddha. Using the ‘blessed’ water from the cleaning of the images to tip on people is to bring good luck and fortune. 
 
Most Thais consider the on-the-street water dumping a cleansing ritual to wash away the bad thoughts and deeds from the previous year. Buddha statues and monks continue to be symbolically bathed to pay respect.
 
Its now turned into a whole – of – country two day water fight.
Crowds of fun!
We whizzed past a middle aged Farang. He stood up, facing us with a grin as wide as the toy gun he was holding. Squirting it, he caught some of the van. We laughed at his overt pure delight as he sat down, waiting for the next victims.
 
‘This is going to be fun.’
 
Fierce nodding, ‘A whole Island allowed to throw water on each other!’
 
The hello kitty hand gun
We commenced a meander around the sectioned off streets of Thongsala, armed only with a ‘Hello Kitty’ water gun and a ‘Green machine’. The shops were closed, but the people were out. With tables, with buckets, with guns.
 
A Thai women smiles at my friends as they look  hesitantly at her and then towards the other side of the street. She smiles some more, curling her fingers up, ‘Come, come, come.’
 
‘Uh oh…’ my friend giggles.
 
After my 40th splash! 🙂
She reaches into her bucket, a dull white clay substance oozes through her fingers, she reaches towards my friend’s face and smears the substance on her cheeks, both women smiling. She dips her hand in again, beckoning me, reaching to my face.
 
She spreads it on my blotchy, pasty skin, eyes sparkling. It smells fragrant and flowery, a distinct contrast to the murky alley water in the streets. This is actually one of the oldest Songkran traditions where white paste is smeared on faces and arms to both protect from and ward of evil.
 
As I move past her I feel the squirt of water on my face. I look up quickly to see a guy with a bright green and yellow pistol and hurriedly turned my eyes away.
People ready to pounce outside the 7/11

A few steps later a woman saunters up to me with a bucket in her hand, ‘Happy New Year!’ As she tips some over my head and shoulders, leaving a little for each of my friends.

Further on a guy holds a water balloon the size of a basketball and motions for me to come closer. Unsure what he’s about to do, I step a little closer. He presses the basketball onto me, grabbing my shoulder.  The balloon shatters between us. Two more buckets of water follow quickly from different directions.

I realised my underwear was now fully soaked.
 
‘That’s why I didn’t wear any’ my friend smiles.
 
‘Very sensible, very sensible indeed.’
 
We head to a sectioned off area with loud music, and an eclectic bunch of Thai men on a stage with equally eclectic dance moves. The only common factor: they were dressed in different shades of black. 
 
The crowds below were movements of bodies, water guns and talcolm powder. Tanks of water stood 6 feet off the ground with people climbing over them like flies on a honey jar.
 
Young, old, boys to men, girls to women, everyone let their joy emerge. 
 
Permission not to work. Permission to have fun 

Permission for everyone to be silly. And play with water. 

So simple. Yet so much fun.