Wat Tham Kong Pen: An Isaan Oddity (2)

The main "drum cave" area

Candles and incense, lit
before prayer

The grounds of Wat Tham Kong Pen are unlike those of many other temples. There aren't formal walls or tiled walkways, except in the area called the "drum cave", called that because they'd found a large drum just inside of it way back when - or so I was told.  My Northeastern friend isn't as educated as some of my other friends, but what he lacks in that and English skills he makes up for with a good heart.

In the grand scheme of things it wasn't really all that important to know, anyway; just being there and having the opportunity to share such a peaceful spot was enough for me. Feel free to Google the place if you want to learn more.  Remember that spelling while transliterating can vary widely, and I've also seen it spelled "tham khong phen" and "thum klong paen".

My friend referred to the area as "fah-lest" (forest), and there were more trees than brush, I noticed; the welcome breeze making them sing softly as they moved overhead. It made an almost eerie whispering sound when you were standing inside the main part of the cave area, and the large gong added a harmony of sorts.

The allegedly ancient drum, next to the "rubbing gong"

The gongs (in the photo above) were intended to be touched. Most of you have made a glass "sing" by running your fingertip around the lip of it, and the raised circular center of these gongs responded the same way if you moved the palm of your hand around the sides of them, and the soft, undulating tone would reverberate around the large open area of the cave.

The alter, seen between overhanging boulders in the drum cave

Detail of offerings left by visitors

My friend naturally stopped to light a candle and incense as he bowed his head reverently in prayer for a few minutes, as did I.  When I raised my head and opened my eyes he was smiling at me and said "good". "Life is good," I replied "we need to say thank you." He nodded his head in agreement, and we walked outside to look around.

Another view of the main image area

Nearby there were several other small areas with a Buddha statue, each also having offerings in front of them - some larger, like the one below, some only a couple of feet tall, tucked into a crevice in the rocks. We didn't see any other visitors stop at them, but my friend did at a couple, while I stood at a distance and left him in peace.

Since we weren't in any hurry that afternoon we went back inside the museum to look around and learn a little more about the Venerable Luang Pu Khao Analayo.

Detail from a finely done oil portrait of the man

He was born Khao Koratha into a farming family in the the village of Ban Bo Cha Nang Nong Kaeo in Ubon Ratchathani province on December 28, 1888, where he went to school, married, and fathered seven children.

Another oil painting of Luang Pu Khao Analayo on display. I don't know the story behind it, sorry to say.

After relocating a few times during his lifetime, he eventually ended up (in 1958) at Wat Tham Klong Phane, in the Nong Bua Lam Phu District of the Udonthani Province. There he worshiped and taught until his death at the age of 95 years and five months on May 16, 1983.

Much like at Madame Tussauds, this statue was quite realistic

We asked our ride to wait down along the road a ways so we could walk and get a better look at some of the unusual architecture, as you'll see below.

Aside from the bell tower that began yesterday's post, most of the buildings in the area were built incorporated with the surrounding boulders and massive stone walls, such as the one below:

Here's a view of it from the left side, showing the rock it sits beneath:

Well, I suppose I've kept you here long enough today. If you're in the area (there's a map in yesterday's post, too) I'd say it'd be worth the hour or so drive there to see the place, if for no other reason than the rock formations and the buildings set into them.  I enjoyed my visit.

Wat Tham Kong Pen: An Isaan Oddity (1)

A bell tower atop a rocky perch at Than Kong Pen

A monk heads up to the
museum area

The wat known as Than Kong Pen sits quietly within a hillside in Nong Bua Lamphu province, nestled into a massive wall of sandstone boulders that loom over and around it.

It was, by far, one of the more peaceful temples I've seen so far in Isaan; the tranquil surroundings almost daring you to make a sound, and other than the soft prayers of the faithful and the gentle rise and fall of a tone from a large gong all was quiet inside.

My friend's cousin had driven us out one afternoon to see this unusual area, where buildings were constructed to fit the space left under and around the huge stone formations, and it was a beautiful, breezy time to walk about and take it all in.

We got out of the vehicle and walked a ways while Bot drove on ahead so we could enjoy the soft rustle of the leaves as we moved down the road and got a better look at this practical but odd looking way of building.

Looking up at the museum from the lower parking level

There's a museum on the grounds, containing one of those surprisingly realistic statues of the meditation master Luang Pu Khao Analayo (December 28, 1888 to May 16, 1983) who lived there from 1958 until his passing. You climb a short stairway up to the museum through a carefully groomed garden area that was alive with colorful butterflies the day I was there.

Thai butterfly - I believe of the swallowtail variety

Nong Bua Lamphu province is West of Udonthani and North of Khon Kaen provinces, as you can see in the map below.

Tomorrow we'll finish with Wat Tham Kong Pen and I'll share more about the interior and grounds.

Another butterfly stops at a pincushion plant at Wat Tham Kong Pen

Take Me Home, Country Roads

Off Hiway 3 in Chantaburi: lush foliage hums with insects, joined by the rustling of leaves in the warm afternoon wind

I've usually enjoyed what Robert Frost would have called "the road less traveled", and sometimes that does, indeed, make all the difference.  You can go from point A to point B in many areas of Thailand via reasonably modern highways, but you can also miss a lot by doing so.

A young man sails along the road on his motocy in Chantaburi

My frequent Thai traveling companion knows how I enjoy being in the thick of things, and he goes out of his way time and again to take the smaller country roads; mainly to entertain me, but because he, too, enjoys the surprises you find along the way. Thank goodness, because otherwise I'd feel bad about the number of times I say "Wait... can you stop and go back for a minute?"

Sure, we get lost every so often - and the Thai aren't all that much more accurate with directions for a fellow countryman than they are for we foreigners - but it's an important part of the journey, I think.

Thorny, multi-colored Euphorbia Milii Splendens (Crown of Thorns) seems to be guarding the laundry that's hung out to dry

For me, it's more interesting to see beyond the polished surface of any country I visit; to be out in the countryside among the locals is to be happier than a hog rolling in the shaded mud on a hot country afternoon.

While his wife and two children waited at the edge of the reservoir, a man gathers lotus buds to have with their dinner.

You don't see a string of 7-Elevens, and you can go entire days without being assaulted by a Starbucks, McDonalds or some other such retail atrocity (a treat unto itself, if you ask me).

What you do see are small stalls, mobile businesses on carts, lots of bicycles and motocy, and houses - both firmly on the ground and standing up on stilts, accessorized with livestock and folks resting beneath them on low platforms.  It's a window into a world we as visitors rarely have an opportunity to view.

This family of shrimp farmers in Chantaburi were amused by our stopping just to say hello. Fortunately, my friend could translate for me.

Rounding a corner, beneath the lush foliage of trees reaching out in an effort to touch each other above your head you're likely to see folks sometimes as surprised to see you as you are to see them.  Invariably they'll smile and wave back if you make the minor effort to acknowledge their existence and show a little appreciation for the beautiful area they call home.

Granted, it's not meaningful interaction, I suppose - but it feels good to be "a part of" on the most minor of levels, and far too many people miss it.

Khaen Pipe Busking - Street Performing

If you visit the Chatuchak weekend market you're bound to run into people playing on the walkways for spare change, or busking to those of you in the UK. The two boys above were working as a team one late morning, standing in the already hot sun and going at it almost non-stop.

Another boy performing at
Chatuchak one morning

Being a musical skill passed along from one generation to the next he music played isn't always high quality, but if you appreciate free-form jazz you're likely of a mind to enjoy the somewhat repetitive, trance-like melodies they perform. What I mean is, the age of the performer isn't necessarily an indicator of the level of authenticity, and I'm not an expert so this kid might qualify as a very good player - who knows?

The variety of melody and tones used has been better with some older players I've heard - I can say that much.

The instrument the boy in the red shirt in the clip is playing is called a khaen; also spelled "kaen" and "khen", transliteration being the imperfect process it often is. There is also a close relative in the same family known as the khene; nearly identical, but tuned to a different (pentatonic) scale.

The khaen is a set of bamboo pipes, carefully cut to different lengths to produce different notes, and I say carefully because unlike a stringed instrument it's nearly impossible to "tune" it once the pipe is cut. There are five basic lai, or modes, of tuning for the khaen. This is beyond my musical knowledge, so forgive me for quoting a bit here from Wikipedia to explain them to those who'll understand:

"The khaen has five different lai, or modes: Lai Yai (A C D E G), Lai Noi (D F G A C), Lai Soutsanaen (G A C D E), Lai Po Sai (C D F G A), and Lai Soi (D E G A B). Lai Po Sai is considered to be the oldest of the Lai Khaen and Lai Soutsanaen the 'Father of the Lai Khaen.' "

More common in the Isaan region of Thaland, it's also a common woodwind used in the music of Laos and Cambodia.

I confess, when I hear this at an outdoor restaurant as part of the entertainment it's difficult to stay seated and not join in with the others who get up to dance. Thankfully, decency usually keeps me seated.

Night BBQ In Udonthani Clip

Some of you may have read portions of the 28-part series "Isaan Oddysey" that ran from February 22nd through May 19th of this year, when I'd hired a friend with his own guide business to accompany me for a week-long road trip up through Isaan to Udonthani.

One evening in Udonthani we ended up at a large outdoor BBQ place, the name of which I didn't note and have long since forgotten. It was across the road from the runways at the airport there, although that's not much of a selling point, I suppose. If you want to read that piece of the saga and see photos from that night, the link to it is here. I really enjoyed it, despite the occasional noise from overhead.

I took a few video clips that evening, and here's one of them showing some of the area where you'd select your ingredients to cook at your table, and some of the band that played a generous amount of more traditional Isaan music in addition to this song. If you follow it to YouTube you can see it in HD, if you have the web speed for that.

As the evening progressed and the music became more "Isaan-centric" more and more of the locals got up to dance, and the irresistible rhythm was impossible for many in the crowd to resist. It was wonderful.

These times out among the locals are some of my fondest recollections of my Thailand visits, and I encourage you to try experiencing them yourself when you go - or when you're there again.

It's well worth the time.

Cabaret At The Mall

It was busier than normal when I ducked into the Chareonsri (now Central) Shopping Mall in Udonthani one afternoon to escape what had become an especially merciless afternoon heat. I thought I'd just find a spot to sit and people watch until my core temperature got back within an acceptable range, but there were none to be found.

Glancing upward I could see it didn't appear to be all that busy on the upper floors, but there was a crowd gravitating toward some music coming from around a nearby corner on the ground floor that made it a bit of a challenge to get around so I shuffled slowly along with the herd, thinking I'd veer out of the crowd at some point and find myself something cool to drink. Before I'd reached the turn in the walkway the movement stopped completely as people began piling up in Standing Room Only formation behind a small sea of chairs facing a raised stage.

Less than five minutes later spotlights came on and began sweeping the stage area, some sort of brass fanfare heralding the start of the show. An announcer began speaking in Thai, joined every so often by a wave of applause from the crowd, now primed and ready for whatever it was that was about to happen. They knew, but I couldn't read the signage and, as I've shared before, my Thai is sadly lacking - especially when it comes to rapid-fire native speakers.

What I could make out was that this was a presentation by the Tourism Authority of Thailand and was evidently a promotional tour by a song-and-dance group, perhaps drumming up visitors for another area of the country. It made me think of some of the cabaret (good and bad) that I've seen in Thailand, but this was outside of a nightclub setting. To me it almost seemed a little out of place, but it didn't to the crowd: they cheered and applauded this free afternoon entertainment and seemed to enjoy every minute of it, as did I.

As the show ended the crowd dispersed and the staff and crew began dragging and stacking the plastic chairs off into one spot while a few of us stopped to say hello to the performers as they talked amongst themselves "backstage", apparently pleased with how the show had gone. Three of them were happy to pose for me when I asked, and that photo's up top.

Isaan Odyssey, Part 25: Bangkok Bound

Waking up on my last morning in Udonthani I found myself really, really congested. I'd been flirting with some sort of nasal problem for a couple of days and it had finally gotten the best of me. As much as I dislike wasting time any time when I'm on holiday all I wanted to do was put a hot compress on my face and stay in bed.

Unfortunately, my time in Udonthani was over, and there were still 600Km/375 miles between me and the room that waited for me in Bangkok, our final destination on this week-long oddysey. It would mean at least nine hours on the road - longer, because I knew we'd have to take some breaks - and while I felt somewhat sorry asking Suphot to drive such a long day, I really needed to get back.

I dragged myself out of bed, started water in the hot pot and called my friend. He'd already planned to ride his scooter into town to say goodbye, knowing there wouldn't be time for Pot and I to drive out to the family home. I'd said my farewells to them the previous night after our dinner out so I hadn't expected to see them, but I'm glad my friend was going to come see me. I rustled up another marginally acceptable cup of instant Nescafe and then went to take a shower so I could dress for the day and finish the packing I'd (thankfully) done most of the previous night while listening to CNN News on the TV. Pot called to give me an advised departure time, and I set about trying to meet that.

My friend arrived somewhere around 08:30, and by 09:00 I was ready to check out. We'd had a somewhat somber conversation: him speaking in a hopeful way about his planned move; me attempting to be supportive but concerned about his overall safety and well-being in a completely foreign place, thousands of miles from his home and family. I don't think I was all that convincing. He lowered his guard and shared quietly how he didn't feel he had many other choices, and there were tears being shed when my phone rang, reminding me that it was time to get going. I hugged him goodbye and went down to the lobby with his tears still wet on my shirt.

Suphot loaded my bags into the back of his truck while I checked out of the hotel. We got into the cab and I waved farewell to the young man I'd helped, mentored and become rather fond of over the past six or seven years. He took a few steps towards us as we pulled away, still waving. As we turned out of the driveway I looked back to see him turn and cover his face and wondered if I would ever see him again. Time and Fate will tell, I suppose.

At my request we stopped at a 7-Eleven type store at a nearby gas station where I picked up another box of Kleenex, water and something to serve as the breakfast I hadn't taken time for at the hotel. Freshly loaded with fuel and decongestant I said "Home, Jeeves!" to Suphot, and away we went, down Highway 2.

I know we stopped for lunch, but I couldn't tell you where. I nodded off repeatedly as we sailed along, but I recall the hot soup was comforting. Frankly, as congested as I was the stand owner probably could have boiled most anything and I'd have been happy to slurp it up. I drank a lot of water and other fluids just to keep flushing my system out, but I was more of a mess than you need to read about here.

Those of you who've spent much time at all out on the highways and byways of Thailand have undoubtedly been slowed up or stopped at some type of traffic detour/speed trap/shakedown. Some are like the weigh stations you'd see in the U.S., some are legitimate stops for violations, some are to check for safety issues or vehicle infractions and some are mere damned harassment; a way to extract arbitrary fines from drivers based on what they think they can get out of you.

Out in the wide open spaces they're often little more than an unofficial inconvenience, where uniformed officers of one variety or another will pull a driver over for nothing more than a quick "fine" that goes directly into the officer's pocket before they wave you back into traffic and on your way.

Some folks I know there keep a few 100 baht notes folded up and within reach while driving for just such stops, and most think nothing of it. There are more organized stops - actually I'd be more inclined to call them "shake downs", myself - where a group of officers will work together in a semi-official capacity and hand out citations such as the one to the above left Suphot was awarded somewhere in the early afternoon.

I don't recall what he was supposed to have done as we came along in the line of cars waved over en mass, but it really doesn't matter; whatever it is they say the infraction was, it can be easily cleared up on the spot with a payment. Once we did that we were again on our way.

The folks above may have had a little more trouble getting themselves sent on their way. All that photo needs is Granny Clampett riding up on top in her rocking chair, if you ask me. From where I was sitting I could count 18 people loaded into the back of that truck, and it was riding LOW. There was a slightly heated debate between that driver and the officer, and the folks in the back seemed a little concerned as he was taken over to the other officers.

On and on we drove (or rather Suphot drove, I slept a lot) for another handful of hours, stopping only for fuel, a quick walk around a couple of times and dinner at one of the Farm Chokchai restaurant chain locations that I'll write about another time for the Restaurants section.

The sun set before we reached the Big Mango, and it was mid-evening when Pot helped me unload my bags from the truck at my hotel. I settled my tab with him and gave him a big hug, happy to have had the time with him and grateful for his dependability and support along the way. He drove off, and I followed the hotel helper into the lobby to check in. I have rarely been as happy to take a shower and crawl into bed as I was that particular evening.

I'm one who doesn't often remember my dreams, but that night I remember dreaming rich and colorful dreams of Isaan.

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So, there you have it: Seven days on the road through Isaan, 25 posts, 185+ photos here and a lot of fond memories for me. If you've made it this far thank you for sticking with it. It's a journey I'd gladly make again myself, and I hope you have the opportunity to get away from the standard stops in Thailand some day to experience some of it, too. It's an amazing place.

Isaan Odyssey, Part 24: One Last Dinner, One Last Walk

Our thatched hut dinner by a pond outside of Udonthani

I managed to sleep a couple of hours again and woke up ready to go pick my friend's folks up to go to dinner. Although the entire family wouldn't be home today I told him I'd like to again take whoever was available out for dinner somewhere, including Noom - if he'd go. You can read about Noom's motocy accident and his recovery here if you're curious why he's reluctant to go out in public very often.

I also wanted to make one last walk out to the reservoir near the family home; a spot that had become a place to say goodbye to family and friends who have passed on, as I've shared here before. It called to me, and not knowing when I'd return here again I wanted to answer that call. I'd originally seen the spot on my first visit there after seeing my friend's dying cousin on her platform bed outside her home, waiting for AIDS to take her away from her children and family.

We loaded ourselves into Suphot's truck and headed into the countryside outside of Udonthani proper. As the reality of leaving and returning to Bangkok settled in I became quiet, lost in thought.

This had been a somewhat bittersweet trip overall; my friend had been in a relationship with a farang for a year or so and was in the process of leaving his homeland for a new place and would most likely be gone before I was able to return to Thailand, more than likely making this the last time I'd visit him, his home and his family - perhaps forever. There was a lot I'd wanted to discuss with him about his plans, and we hadn't addressed them nearly as fully as I'd hoped. "If I return here," I said to myself "it may be to stand by the shore and say goodbye to him," and that made me sad. We can't choose the path others who mean something to us take, but I wasn't sure I'd at least put a hand on his shoulder and nudged him as best I could in the better direction. Only time would tell that.

The back yard at my friend's family home area, outside of Udonthani

Arriving in a cloud of dust we'd churned up along the dirt road in front of the family compound I climbed out of Suphot's truck and was immediately surrounded by the family dogs - and a chicken who didn't have enough sense to run away with the others and now jumped around, terrified, in the middle of the canine welcoming party. Brushing the dog's dusty footprints off of the front of me I looked up to see my friend waving from the front door of his sister's house where he's been house-sitting while his sister's in another country with her husband.

The house was almost twice the size of the original family's home a few dozen meters away; with a modern interior, nice appliances and plenty of living space. Out of respect for their privacy I won't post much of the place, but this shot showing one small portion of the open living area gives you an idea of how nice it is - especially compared to the home it somewhat replaced. It was odd to see my friend's bedroom things moved from their previous compact space and into this new spot, but I was happy for him and wished he'd just stay here, rather than leave for places and situations unknown.

Even though he's still rather self-conscious about his appearance Noom came out to say hello to me, as I'd hoped. He looked so much better than the last time I'd seen him, and was not only walking closer to normal on his own, but acting more like his old self. There was no convincing him that he ought to come along with us to eat, though - even after we assured him that we were going to a nearby open-air restaurant, so we promised to bring him dinner and he stood and waved goodbye as the bunch of us pulled out in two vehicles and headed to dinner.

We drove a short ways to a place I can not find the name of now, but it was similar in style to some other Thai eateries: tables or seating mats in open buildings beneath thatched roofs beside some sort of pond or small lake, often man made. As you can see above these were individual "huts", and there were a lot of them (we were in #45) in addition to a larger, covered central dining area adjacent to the kitchen which could accomodate larger groups.

I'd told my friend to encourage his mother and father to order what they wanted and have dishes they might not order themselves, hoping they'd not feel limited by manners, knowing I would be picking up the tab. Thai culture is such that if one of the party obviously has more money it's assumed that they will pay the bill, and by their standards I was the wealthy one. Fortunately, after the number of visits I'd made they took me at my word and ordered freely. The photo up top today is only part of what was delivered to our "table" - and a lot went home. Noom certainly got dinner!

Returning to their home afterwards, I told my friend I wanted to take one last walk out to the reservoir before leaving, and he joined me as I went along the road and off into the open area in that direction; past his uncle's home, where the water buffalo looked up and snorted with indifference as I waved to them.

The sun was beginning to set, and this is my favorite time to be there. The shadows lengthen and soften until the sun goes behind clouds or the trees on the Western horizon, and then there's a gentle fading of light as the crickets begin to sing and it dims as the sky shifts through the palate of sunset colors; oranges, pinks, reds and finally that dark blue hue as night pulls the blanket over the sky and the stars begin to appear.

I gently eased our conversation into the area of caution in relationships, but I'm not at all sure that it made much of an impression. My friend saw this as a way to establish some sort of security for his future, but it seemed to me as thought it was to be at a precious cost. All I could do was urge that he keep his eyes open and always, always leave an escape route. As most of us might say when we were his age he assured me "I know what I'm doing, don't worry about me," - but I knew I would... and do.

When the mosquitoes came around in force to remind me I hadn't put on any repellent I reluctantly bid farewell to this idyllic spot, but I didn't really think it would be for the last time, as I said earlier. It's my fervent hope that my next visit there will merely be to see and remember folks fondly, and not to bid another spirit farewell. Time will tell.

[Next up: a l-o-n-g day's ride back to Bangkok. This is part 24 of a series. If you've found this via a search or would like to read the rest of it, click HERE.]

Isaan Odyssey, Part 23: Isaan Silk

Ladies tops and other items made from Thai silk, in a village shop outside of Udonthani

By the time I'd returned to my room the night we were out walking around at the night market I was really beginning to feel congested, which only added to my feeling somewhat out of sorts overall; both physically and emotionally. I'd been away from home for over two weeks, and had been in Taiwan for a few days before landing in Thailand at more or less of a dead run, since I'd over-scheduled the days before heading up into Isaan for a week. Now the changes of time, food, sleep patterns and climate had all joined forces to do a number on me, and I was - as some of you good folks might say - knackered.

I woke up with a sinus headache, unable to breath much at all through my nose and after knocking the box of tissues off of the nightstand I sat up to retrieve them and saw the night lights at the Central Mall a few blocks away. The sky was beginning to lighten, and I decided to stand up and go give a fright to anyone who happened to look up seven floors and see the Big Pink Guy in his boxers. Being 06:30 there was naturally already movement on the street below, so I stepped away to start coffee before coming back to watch it for a few minutes until the hot pot stopped its furious boiling across the room.

Coffee and a decongestant still hadn't done much good by the time I'd checked email and looked at some of the previous night's photos, so I showered, dressed and went down for breakfast. I really felt more like just staying in bed, but it was my last day in Udonthani and I had places to go and people to see so after breakfast I returned to my room and called my friend to settle plans for the day.

Several people back home were hoping I'd bring back something that didn't come from a tourist stall in Jatujak Market - meaning something closer to a traditional souvenir vs a touristy souvenir - and since the fabric shops in the "downtown" part of my friend's village sold items that filled the bill we made the drive out there and did some shopping. The items sold there certainly make their way to other parts of the country, but at least this way I could say I bought them several steps closer to the source.

This woman sitting and sewing was the most accessible for a photo as she was out by the front steps of the shop, and in better light. You could hear machines whirring behind curtains in several other shops that day, though. Not being familiar with what was available I must have wandered into and out of at least 15 places before deciding which to go back to and make some purchases. My friend was kindly tolerant of my indecision, as always.

There were more than a few items familiar to Jatujak and other markets throughout Thailand, such as the pillows on the right, but there were also things that were less common outside of the area, if for no other reason than the silk and fabric itself, which is a specialty of the region. One of those is mud-mee (or mut-mee) where groupings of threads on a loom are wrapped tightly and then dyed like a hippie T-shirt from the 1960s, with the portions wrapped beneath the strings not retaining the dye. This can create amazing patterns. It's usually estimated that over half the silk woven in Thailand is done by hand.

The items are very reasonable, and I came out of there with close to a dozen items. My only regret is that I didn't buy any unfinished fabric pieces to bring home, but the table cloths, table runners, shirts, stuffed items and purses were about all of the gifts I could carry with me that day - and about all the free space in my bags.

Village silk and fabric shops outside of Udonthani in rural Isaan

My decongestant well out of effective range and the heat of the day (plus the onset of whatever it was I was coming down with) my friend agreed to do next to nothing for the rest of the afternoon, so he rode back with us into Udonthani and again watched TV while I napped for a while. After a couple of hours of sleep I was ready to return to collect his family and go out for one final dinner on this, my last day in town.

I also had a visit to make to a place that has become a spiritual spot for me in Isaan, but more about that tomorrow.

[This is Part 23 of a series. If you found this via a search or just happened upon it some other way you can find parts 1 through 22 by clicking HERE.]

Thai Smiles, Part 33: Isaan Smiles

The Isaan roadtrip provided so many opportunities to cross paths and interact with folks in the countryside along our way as they were going about their everyday lives.

Some viewed me somewhat as a novelty, some were entertained by my clumsy Thai while saying hello and asking if they'd stop for a photo and some more than likely considered me a nuisance keeping them from staying on task, although almost all were too polite to make it known if that was the case. If they seemed irritated or displeased I dropped the subject and moved on. Most took my interest in them and what they were doing in the right spirit and were pleased to be acknowledged.

In addition to the meat cutters in the morning market in Udonthani (up top) - here are a few other people I met along the way.

The ticket vendor at Prasat Muang Tam

Mother and son at the morning market in Udonthani

Students on a field trip at Phra Narai Ratchanivet

Truth be known I'm not all that much of an outgoing person, so it's not as easy as it may seem to approach a stranger and ask them if I may invade their personal space to take their picture. I know I'm not all that wild about having mine taken, as a rule, so I appreciate them allowing me to take theirs - and I always make sure they're aware of that.