Uthai Thani is Out of the Way

It’s the kind of provincial capital where the dogs don’t get up from the middle of the street when they see a van coming. As we got close to town, maybe only ten kilometers to go, a little kid at the back complained that he really couldn’t hold it any longer. The driver stopped. Somebody slid open the side door so the kid could pee at the edge of the road.

My hotel’s proprietor stopped at the circuit breaker as we walked down the hall, to make sure my room’s electricity was turned on. It wasn’t the hotel I expected to stay at. I planned to go on that evening to an even smaller town, near a wildlife sanctuary that I found by accident on the Web. But a late start from Bangkok meant I missed my connecting bus, so there I was in Uthai Thani.

Shortly after settling in to the room, I got a call from the owner of the place in the small town. She was worried I’d gotten lost. That same kind of thoughtfulness radiated from her the next day when we finally did meet. She welcomed me for nearly an hour, talking in Thai of things we both really were interested in, not just about the weather or how long she’d been in business.

Here I was thinking that I’d come to surround myself with the beautiful landscape and its biological diversity. But the main attraction turned out to be this beautiful human being. She invited me to have dinner with her and her husband, the deputy mayor. We ate home cooking, not restaurant food. I felt more like a relative than a guest.

Then out of the blue appeared a fellow speaking English in an accent I didn’t recognize right away. This was Mark, from the Philippines, who teaches English to the youngsters in town. He explained that the school board couldn’t afford a native speaker, but were happy to pay him double the salary of the local classroom teachers, along with free room and board and the use of a motorcycle.

The only downside is that he doesn’t speak much Thai and nobody in town speaks much English. So when a roundeye like me shows up at this lovely little roadside resort, Mark wanders over and dives in to the conversation that he’s seemingly starving for. I didn’t mind. He soon had me in stitches with a story of being hospitalized after eating a pound of crabmeat at one sitting.

I had to smile, too, when we ended up going together to an unusual temple that sits a little way outside town. Even though he’d been there before, he couldn’t remember the way, and so thought it best to pay somebody to take us. Finding a driver was easy enough, but explaining what we wanted to do then fell to me. The newcomer helped translate for the local.

We made it. Wat Tham Khao Wang was gorgeous. The style and the building materials were like no temple I’ve visited in Thailand. If the monks there are the ones who keep up the extensive gardens surrounding the pond, I wondered how they also had enough time to pray and meditate. Should you find yourself in the neighborhood of Ban Rai, I recommend stopping by. Better yet, ask around for Mark and see if he wants to come along.

Koh Kood is Damp

Rainy season came early this year, but we went to the islands anyway. Our speedboat left from narrow finger of Thailand that pointed us toward Koh Kood along a route parallel to the Cambodian hills in the distance. Not that we could see those hills. The downpour kept us from even raising our heads. After an hour on the water, in spite of the boat’s canvas roof, we were all soaked to the skin.

Luckily the sun broke through just as we arrived. The owner of the cottages we’d booked was waiting for us with a warm seafood lunch. Seven of us passed a long weekend exploring the island, splashing around in a freshly recharged waterfall, or playing Scrabble indoors whenever the monsoon returned. (Little did we realize that a cyclone was hitting Burma at the same time, about 1,000 km to the northwest.)

Everyone else in the group speaks Thai better than English. So I struggled to keep up with the conversations, and surprised myself with how quickly the total immersion helped me pick up new words. Even the Trivial Pursuits-style games and the Scrabble were easier than I expected. If I keep traveling with this gang, I could get fluent pretty fast.

But I suspect we won’t return to this island unless we can get a sunshine guarantee. During the boat ride back, the skies opened again. Umbrellas were useless. We found the best sitting position was the one they recommend on airplanes “in the unlikely event of a water landing.” By leaning forward and grabbing our ankles, we retained as much of our body heat as possible.

By looking down we also could ignore the suspicion that our boat driver was lost. He finally cut the engine and admitted that without his familiar landmarks he wasn’t sure. We waited about ten minutes while the rain pelted our backs. Some people no doubt had now begun to find their prostrated position was also convenient for praying.

Happy ending. A fishing boat crossed our path, we were pointed in the right direction, and the mainland appeared just in time for the sun to shine again.