A stray dog patched with hair between raw scabs of skin, wanders into the detention center compound and sniffs around. It walks along the front of the cage of humans and wanders back out again, free to roam where it pleases. 

we farang

We heard tale of things to do around mae sot and decided to rent a scooter to go 16kms out of town to some thermal hot pools. We went back to Ban Thai, our old guest house to hire the scooter and ran into a friend we'd made while staying there, she had her arm in a sling. Apparently she was riding her bike and a car drove to close to her wedging her between it and a parked car until she had no room and clipped her front wheel, sending her flying onto the pavement. To her surprise the car didn't stop, nor did the passersby really even acknowledge her lying in the mddle of the road, huddled, braced for a following car to hit her, fortunately there were none. It was her second accident on her year long journey, the last being a motorcycle one in uganda, which she still bears the scars of on her other arm. This time it was a hairline fracture, which she had examined, xrayed and given painkillers for, at a cost of $20 in under 30 minutes including waiting time. HAHAHA travel insurance is full of shit - DON'T GET IT! Anyway, there were no motorcycles left for hire and after the accident story we thought it might be some auspicious portent, but we've never been supersticious, so the manager gave us the address of another hire place. 

This time we brought the front pack to strap abacus into, which worked way better, she was calm while we followed the vague directions of locals that sent us to every cardinal point and then fell asleep as we finally hit the highway, which took us out through the beautiful country side. The green  farmed land stretched all the way to the wall of hills, which cut Thailand off from Burma. The wind was fierce in our faces, but abacus was untouched, snuggled between us. The roads were unexpectedly rough in parts, sometimes disappearing into gravel, forcing traffic to share a single lane. After following the signs onto a dirt road, where some confused locals pointed us back to the main road, we found the ornate entrance brandishing the kings face, typical of thailand. 

We'd expected the sort of thermal parks typical of new zealand or america, where magical hot water gushes out from yellowed mineral stained rocks and flows down forming pools of varying temperature that you can sit in and soak. But what we found was a concrete pad and fountainhead that flowed into a landscaped stream, weaving its way around a huge grass park of shady trees, where thai families picnicked like a thai version of Seurat's Sunday afternoon on the island of La Grande Jette. All around the periphery were food stalls serving chicken barbarqued whole over charcoal, smoke from it drifted throughout the restaurant area we sat in, where rips in the giant faux linoleum sticker stuck to the floor, revealed the precarious platform supporting the weight of the customers over the stream below. At one point there was a loud creaking sound accompaniedby a chorus of whoaaaa, by customers who sounded as though they were on some fun park ride for the 100th time, but nothing came of it. We ate a quarter of a chicken and some rice, our corn never came and our blindly chosen salad was unappetising, so we went to join everyone under the shady trees for a while. There were absolutely no westerners to be seen, so we were the object of interest for many, especially because of abacus. A very interested chubby thai toddler was interested in her and kept walking over on his clumsy trainer legs, but his parents or grandparents kept coming to pull him away. When he finally got to come for a closer inspection, he lifted up abacus skirt, so she kicked him and yelled loudly. Everyone laughed. 

We noticed that the people gathered around the concreted thermal fountain were poking sticks into it, so we went for a closer look and found the sticks had baskets on the end full of hens and quail eggs, that were cooking in the water. Then I relealised the shape of the whole thing was not unlike those cookers in japanese restaurant where you cook your own food. 

There was supposed to be a cave in the area also, but it wasn't sign posted well. We went for a walk around and found a beautiful green lake with a suspension foot bridge that led to a small buddhist temple on the otherside. I was holding abacus as we walked across and continually lost my balance as the bridge seemed to lurch sideways beneath me and then by some wierd illusion continue to travel impossibly on that path. 

We couldn't find the cave - or at least we don't think so - we found some buddha in a human made cave, but surely that wasn't it. We got the scooter and drove further down a dirt road to see if we could find it, but there was nothing out there and no signs anywhere and then abacus was tired, so we decided to head back. She soon fell asleep in the front pack after a bit of initial protest as we drove back through the fresh smelling country side and the quaint little towns.

Later that night there was a knock on our door so soft it sounded like two doors away. The owner had come to tell us that a guy had come around to inspect our scooter and said that we hadn't locked it properly, then when danielle closed the door to get the key and come outside the owner told Danielle she closed the door too hard. Gah. Sometimes Thai people can make you feel like a child, but it's just a cultural difference and we shouldn't be offended. 

happy 2552!

The elephant was still being led through the streets in the morning as we went to breakfast, squealing it's little squeaks as it crossed through the traffic. Danielle had to get to a seamstress by 8, who was going to make her a sarrong to wear at the temple herbal sauna, she charged her all of $2 for the work. The workshop was a cute family shop, with aged and trusty black and gold singer sewing machines. 

We went to Daves Canadian for breakfast. Danielle likes how he is so friendly but completely indifferent to his customers, there's a real feel of a Canadian cabin to the place. We also went back for lunch and this time Dave told us his life story, of how he came to Mae Sot after buying his way out of a contract in a factory firm, which had moved its offices to Singapore. He hated Singapore because of how expensive it was. A clause in his leaving the company meant that he couldn't work for anyone else for three years, so after coming to Mae Sot to see his brother in law, he decided to run a restaurant for those three years because he liked the place, and now, 11 years later he is still here, becoming a celebrity of travel guide books and the restaurant of choice of NGO's, even serving the police as interpreter for the foreigners who get into drunken fights. "With thais or amongst themselves" we asked, noticing how there seems to be an absence of drinking culture among the Thais, and of blood on the streets on saturday mornings, which is so familiar at home. "Sometimes just by themselves", Dave replied, as some of them just ended up breaking furniture and refuse to pay, so Dave has to go visit them and ask "So do you want me to bring you some macaroni or are we going to see how we're going to pay for this table?" He said the town was a lot rougher three years ago, but things are much better now. 

We had a new years party at the european run Thai organisation, Danielle had to bring a gift, as on new years you give gifts. She got one from a store around the corner from us which has year round free gift wrapping outside, so when ever you feel like giving a gift you can just go to the store, danielle got me a toast towel and I got her a hello kitty handbag. At the party there was barbarque food and a noodles stand and a whole bunch of soda, it was very family oriented. When we arrived Danielle had to hand in her gift to which she was given a number, 77, which in Thai is jet sip jet - of the little Thai we know we fortunately know numbers, because when gift time came around they read the numbers out only in Thai (as apart from one other westerner, everyone was Thai or Burmese). When the number was called out, by the enthusiastic MC who  somehow brought the crowd to fits of laughter over the most mundane thing, she had to go up on the stage. Then they called out another number and someone else came on the stage, so the two could exchange gifts. Danielle got a tea cup and saucer set, while the old man got Danielles pink love heart photo frame with clock.

Danielle also got some other gifts as well as a soft toy for Abacus, but as we left the severly G rated event, we saw an old burmese lady pushing her cart of possesions down the street and Danielle gave her the extra gifts, she seemed really appreciative.  

Danielle was going to another new years party at her friends, we didn't want to push it with abacus, so I was to take her home. We walked to get a motorcycle taxi for danielle, they're the guys on the main street wearing purple vests. The guy we found didn't speak a word of english and had an open can of beer in the carry basket on the front of his bike, with a straw in it. But she got to the party safely, where there was plenty of traditional food and a bon fire that they dowsed in petrol and lit with sky rockets. It sounded fun. 

It wasn't Thai new year, but they still celebrate it as though it is, which gives them two new years eves in one year. Their new years is in april and it is currently the year 2552, marked by the birth of buddha.

Our New Years wish was as it is every night, to get a good nights sleep, so we turned down the offers of guest house room parties for the hope of some good sleep. But it wasn't abacus who woke us up, it was the warzone sound of megaton strength fireworks, that seemed to be exploding right over head, lighting the windows in explosions of light. They were relentless - but of all ironies - abacus slept through it. She slept for two four hour sessions, which was awesome. But she still woke up at 6, yelling at us to get up.

elinphant

This morning a guy was leading a baby elephant through the town selling sugar cane to feed it with. I bought some and gave it to it's rubbery trunk which dexteriously wrapped around it and shoved it in its mouth, bringing its trunk back for more and more, but when I screwed up the empty bag, it knew there was none left. Then it was led away to find more customers, it let out a squeal like screeching tyres. It was so cute. Of course you can't help but feel sorry for a creature so intelligent and family oriented, especially that hook they use to guide them by the ear. Later that night we saw the elephant again at the night markets, it was making its tyre screech sounds as it was led among the people and scooters and cars. We'd been to night markets in other towns, which had lots of fun food and stalls of clothes, gifts etc, but this one was lame and we didn't find anything worthwhile to eat. So we left. We went to a little street food restaurant that made really good roti, they made it right in front of you, stretching a small circle of dough so thin it was almost transparent, before folding it up to make layered puffy roti which he cooked on a hot plate over an open fire. It was so good we decided to get some more stuff. This chicken and potato filled roti was delicious for the first couple of bites before quickly losing its appeal in the indulgent amounts of oil and the chicken tom yam soup we ordered, came in the form of a pile of rice with a chicken drumstick stuffed in the middle of it, which we took away with us and gave to some homeless burmese children further down the street. We needed a pallatte cleanser and the only thing we could think of was getting out of the reality of Mae Sot and into the western refuge of Taste Hazel, a cafe, where we had green tea and chocolate cake. How cultureless.

I'm confused. Though I shouldn't be, knowing how much humans suck. I wrote the other day about people exploiting the burmese in the gem trade in Mae Sot, but the burmese buy them too - that is not to say the trade is any less exploitative - it just means there are some burmese who have escaped that persecution to use it to their advantage, and of course there are examples of this throughout history, the preoccupation of self interest.

I am confused though, by the criteria for arrest of those detained at the detention center. I don't understand why those who come to visit during visiting hours, are not also arrested, not that I want them to be of course. Those who beg all day are completely exposed as being illegal, do they have some skill at evading authorities or are they tollerated for a while before being sent back? I need to investigate.

more stuff

So the internet has been a ee bit temperamental the last couple of days. We moved to our new guest house because a wedding had booked out our last one, an Irish girl is marrying someone in a refugee camp, but its worked out better for us, cheaper rent and bicycles, and the internet - while a bit temperamental isn't down for days on end.

On our second night here we had a mosquito net put up, but apparently there was a mosquito inside it, I could hear it whining passed my ears in the night and then in the morning could see its handy work, and poor abacus - just as her bites were clearing up, now has one on her cheek and one on her chin.

In the morning Abacus was rolling over onto her stomach on her mat, but then she seemed determined to get over onto her back again and she did it! So now she can roll over completely, the circle is complete.

There are goats that roam around the neighbourhood, there's a field opposite the guest house but they also venture across the bridge, maybe to scavenge for rubbish in the town, though there's plenty of rubbish dumped in the field too.

Danielle went to see her friends for a while, they're on holiday at the moment for another week.

There's not a lot happeneing really. The website I was hoping to make has stagnated - i think I'm going to pursue it on my own and just give them the template, I'll make it really easy to update, it'll be a good project for myself and one that should be quite applicable to other causes. The idea is pretty much like a blog, but with a front page template that is like a newspaper - or news website that can be updated using external word files. There are also playground building projects which have been put on hold for a couple of weeks, so my experiences are a little vicariously imbibed through danielle, it's hard to get involved hile caring for abacus - but there is no shortage of interactions and learning to be found in the town itself.

Nights are cold and I think of those detained around the corner from us. The detention center is completely exposed, I can't imagine what it's like for them, though I know they have suffered worse. They huddle on the floor watching the TV over the guards shoulder while babies and children cry in the background.

catch up

A quick recap of our days without internet.

Abacus has been sleeping better with her new feeding schedule, I think the cereal is key. She certainly isn't sleeping through the night, but is sleeping for at least three hours at a time and sometimes four. I think it'll keep improving and she has settled into the new feed schedule well, cutting her feeds down to 6 a day. But she continues to cry quite a bit, and even her talking can often resemble a piercing scream, though when she's happy, she's really happy.

Our new guest house is nice and a lot cheaper, which is good because we'd underbudgeted the trip by quite a bit. We have our own detached little room which is good for Abacus' loud voice, somehow though, the room looks like its the outside and the door should lead to the inside - it's hard to explain.

It rained hard for a couple of nights, the locals were suspicious and a little supersticious, saying "It never rains in december", with the ominiously grave expressions of the jedi council. I'd forgotten about rain, and it was refreshing to have some, it's cooled everything off a lot.

I may have confused people when I took down my blog, people weren't after us and the order didn't come from any authorityarian rule, they are simply precautions which are made to limit information about certain operations, which could lead authorities to people who really don't want to be found. It is frustrating to leave out half the story - the main story really - on the blog, but I can tell you about it in person one day.

Also, we heard tale of a dunkin donuts in town, so we went to investigate. We found it in a giant supermarket where everyone was only buying shopping baskets full of cooking oil, the checkouts seemed to radiate a golden glow from the sheer quantity of the stuff. We later found out - as we'd suspected, that there was a speacial on oil, it was mainly though, store owners who were buying it to sell. PS the donuts were delicious.

When we left our guest house, we took a photo of the maid who'd been so good with Abacus and then we had it printed and went back and gave it to her, she really loved it, but more so, she loved that we brought the real abacus back with us. She wants to see more photos of Abacus as she grows older. Abacus is equally as loved at our new guest house (A guest house by the way is like a motel but made up of little houses rather than a big concrete block building). There's a ten year old girl , whose mother works here, who is very interested in abacus.

Across  from the guest house is a detention center full of people; men, women and children, who are to be deported back to Burma. They are not hidden from site, it is just a huge concrete room with a wall of bars on the front, on which those captive hang their clothes, while they sit or lay on the concrete floor, waiting for the inevitable. The Thai guards are plain clothed, they watch TV as though it is nothing more than an impound lot, but there's also strong police presence. It's a hard image to walk passed everyday, there are so many angry feelings of helplessness and the hopelessness of humans here. 

Further fueling this hopelessness is the healthy gem trade on the main street. Danielle pointed out how on the streets there's a lot of people buying gems, little rings and things, which they hold up to the sun outside, scrutinising their worth. The jewels though come from Burma, and the conditions in which they're mined are as you'd expect of a country under totalitarian rule. People buy Nike shoes made in sweatshops and diamonds mined in horrifying conditions all around the world, and that too is unforgivable, I know (in fact, ironically,  nike seems to be the shoe of choice for most NGO's), but this crisis is so close, so visible, there are the desperate examples of the means by which their trinkets are got, walking among them, even haunting the very markets which sell the gems, they're collecting rubbish for money, or have one frail hand outstretched while the other holds a malnourished infant. This is the borderline of exploitation, where the two worlds physically impact upon each other, and yet it becomes as invisible a factor to their transactions, as it is when the border is an ocean wide, between the malls of the west and the factory floor of the third world. 

so um. the internet was down for two days or so.

now we have moved guest houses.

more later.