The beauty of Thailand is captivating in both the people and the landscape, though it’s difficult to capture via words and image.
For the past few weeks I’ve been in a small (234 people) northeastern village called Ban Lao.
Tonight, I rode through the rice fields on a tuk-tuk (basically a motorcycle rickshaw) as the sun was setting. It shone a glorious amber red over a horizon of rich green rice fields, a mist hanging about 2 meters over the stalks. I was tempted to grab my camera but there’s no way a photo could have captured the majesty of the moment. Perhaps I can do better by describing the people…
A local celebrity
I’m only the third foreigner to ever enter the village of Ban Lao so my presence is definitely noticed. That and their friendliness and curiosity brings them out, smile on their faces, to start a conversation. Of course, I have no idea what they’re saying so I simply nod and smile back. The language barrier doesn’t deter them. Within a few minutes I’m being invited for food, coffee, beer and whiskey (strong stuff they call 40 degrees!), or to join them for fishing at the pond (a main food source).
When immediately struck me when I first arrived was the enormity of their poverty (their income is about 1/3 the annual yearly income of the average Thai, so about $2-3000), the size of their spirit, and their unending generosity. In just a short amount of time they’ve opened their homes, laughed and eaten with me. I’m a member of their family, now… they call me Naa Seua (junior uncle tiger).
Buffalo mornings
On my first morning, I awoke, walked outside from the 2 room house and was greeted at the porch by a huge water buffalo. Plants dangled from it’s mouth and blinking at me, probably wondering who the farang (foreigner) was.
I’ve found that no matter where you may be in the world, kids will be kids. I’ve been pulled to games of badminton, takraw (a cross between hackey sack and volleyball), tag, and dominoes. There’s a deaf/mute girl here and I’ve become her favorite play friend.
Of course, what Asian family is complete without the old crone 
Or, in this case, crones. The village ladies laugh all day long and joke with me to be careful or I might find myself with a Thai wife.
Meeting the patriarch
Speaking of family, the patriarch of the family, Na Dit, is a highly respected man dying of intestinal cancer in the public hospital. Daily, folks from the village journey the 50km to visit him there. When he asked to see me, I went. The man was, as you can imagine, wracked with pain, wincing with the slightest of movements. He reached out for my hand anyway to let me know he was glad to have met me. That night he slipped into a coma.
I’d be slighting these people if I failed to mention that on more than once occasion they’ve moved me to near-tears.
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