A Northwest Guy in Central Thai

Tubb to the Rescue

2011-10-31T12:56:00.001+07:00

Recently I found myself on the back of a motorcycle, putting up muddy mountain trails to visit a little Karen Baptist church in the hills. I get invited to preach in different places from time to time, but this was a first for this village. About 15 minutes from the village, my friend tells me over his shoulder that in addition to preaching, I’ll need to join him in sharing a special song with the congregation. He’d decided the song would be “What a Friend We Have in Jesus”. The plan was that he’d sing I Thai, me in English, and a few men from the congregation would sing in Karen. I thought for a second – dang. I only remember the first verse of that one. But wait! I have a few of my favorite songs tucked away in my phone for easy listening. What have we here? “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” sung by Ernest Tubb. I refreshed my memory with a quick listen. Then we practiced as we drove. Our practice earned me a concerned look over the shoulder from my friend. It turns out that unlike Tubb, the Karen like to sing in key (I’m sure that’s the ONLY reason I would be off). Unfortunately too, Tubb’s version only covers the first two verses – and the church we were at sings three. I wonder if anyone noticed me recycling the first verse?

Songs for Camp

2011-10-04T10:43:00.002+07:00

The last time I spent any length of time at the temporary shelter at Mae Ra Moe, I came away with some nice music recommendations. This time when I went, I brought one.

My wife and I have really been enjoying the music of Josh Garrels. A great unique sound, with fresh, thoughtful lyrics. Give the guy a listen or two, I think you’ll like him as well. Here is the best song from his most recent album (sorry, it’s live):

Available here.

I Can't Relate

2011-06-25T07:10:00.002+07:00

Life is tough in suburban North America. Just ask this guy:

Test Post

2011-04-11T11:47:00.001+07:00

What does the paragraph below look like? A bunch of butchered Roman letters, or a bunch of rounded, curvy Karen letters? Working on getting a font mapped to render right for ALL comers.

vX w> vDR xl vDR ,dm M.

e u td. zJ vJ.I

t 8h> 'f tHR<A,GR tJ. [D. cd. zd A

wkR t[h. vDR uGHm t zd cGg td. w 8R CD<A

'f od; u ,J> ySR vX t pl> uhR em uhR tDR

w 8R v> v> M.<t ok w [; 8DR w 8hR 'D; <

u M> b. w> rl t xl t ,dm vDRI

,dR[. A3;16

t 8h> 'f tHR<A,GR tJ. [D. cd. zd A

wkR t[h. vDR uGHm t zd cGg td. w 8R CD<A

'f od; u ,J> ySR vX t pl> uhR em uhR tDR

w 8R v> v> M.<t ok w [; 8DR w 8hR 'D; <

u M> b. w> rl t xl t ,dm vDRI

,dR[. A3;16

The Road of Resistance

2011-03-21T21:26:00.005+07:00

A few years ago, four friends came to northwest Thailand to gather footage of the atrocities being committed against the Karen people just over the Thai border in Myanmar. This film is the fruit of that trip. Since your're sitting at the computer anyway, why not take forty minutes to watch this documentary, and discover what has been going on in Burma for decades?

For more information, visit http://roadofresistance.com/

California Guy in Northwestern Thailand

2010-12-04T01:05:00.003+07:00

Thailand lost a very special missionary, and we lost a special friend. James Garwood is no longer a California guy, or a missionary, but one of the many worshipping around Christ's throne - In November he succumbed to dengue hemorrhagic fever, which he contracted while serving Jesus in the jungles of the Karen state.

You will be missed, buddy. Serving God in Thailand won't be the same without you.

Northwest Guy in the Southwest pt.2

2010-10-10T21:12:00.002+07:00

We have spent the last week visiting friends in Sandy Valley, Nevada. Sandy Valley is an old mining town where some dear friends minister at a Community Church. You don’t get to visit old mining towns without also visiting old abandoned mines. The other day we went hunting for some, and weren’t disappointed.

We couldn’t get to them without some hiking, and I was struck by the rugged beauty of the southwest United States.

Beauty though, isn’t why we went there, we wanted mine shafts.

This one just kept going down. After a while, and after crawling over several portions of collapsed roof, I started to wonder if satisfying my curiosity about the contents of an old mine was a good enough reason to risk orphaning my children, and we called it a day.

Northwest Guy in the Southwest

2010-10-07T05:07:00.002+07:00

So far this trip home we’ve driven from San Francisco, to Oregon, to western Washington, to eastern Washington, to Idaho, and down from there to almost the very southern-most tip of Nevada.

Some unexpectedly interesting parts of the drive were in the Great Basin. The highway there often stretches straight as far as the eye can see in either direction. No trees, no curves, not even much for interesting rock formations. Nothing. Which, coming from western WA, was really really different. Must have been easy for those early pioneers to traverse. We had an easy enough time anyway.

What helped make it easy was some good listening. The stretch from eastern Washington down to southern Nevada took a total of about 19 hours. So a few highlights of our lineup were:

The Cross and the Switchblade – this old book about the Rev. David Wilkerson and his work for the Lord among the teen drug addicts and gang members of 1950's New York City would fall under the category of “Encouraging”. If you have eight or nine hours to listen to a book, put this one at the top of your list.
Biblical Manhood and Womanhood by Dr. Wayne Grudem – Dr. Grudem’s defense of complimentarianism. Unexpectedly good, and falling under the category of “Edifying”. Not usually a subject that I find very stirring, but I was interested to hear something by Dr. Grudem.
The Battle for Your Mind by Rick Warren – I had heard that Mr. Warren was invited to speak at the 2010 Desiring God National Conference. I’ve never heard or read anything by him, but I’ve plenty about him (mostly polemics). So MJ and I took a chance and gave it a listen. I wouldn’t really recommend the message, but it earns an honorable mention for winning both of my mental categories of “Meh” and “Interesting”.

We have a few weeks before we make the loooooooong drive up to the northwest, and a couple more books queued up to be listened to.

A Northwest Guy in the Northwest

2010-09-22T22:20:00.005+07:00

The Lord has us visiting back home in western Washington. This clip seems appropriate:

Campfire Songs

2010-07-10T08:43:00.001+07:00

So recently I got to stay a couple weeks in a refugee camp in the jungles of Thailand. I wrote of the experience some in my other blog, but can’t shake this one.

I met with a pastor and his family one day before my teaching schedule started at the seminary. The pastor’s wife asked me if I had ever heard of “Rocky Mountain Gospel”? I imagined maybe someone had shared some music with them from a church band out of Colorado or something. Nope, never heard of it. “Very nice music,” she assured me.

Later on, at the seminary, one of the teachers had a little battery powered mp3 player going in the library. He had a collection of old and new worship music going. At one point a song came on and he said “oh, this is Rocky Mountain Gospel.” It was some of the awesomest American gospel bluegrass I had ever laid ears on.

“Do you have any more?”

“No, just this one song.”

Dang. Well, I’m out of the jungle now, and with a little help from Google, I discovered that there is no such musical group as Rocky Mountain Gospel. I did however find the song that these guys in the jungles of Thailand were into:

Not what I expected to come away with from my trip to the Thai-Burma border (and not the only thing), but worthy of adding to any bluegrass lovin’ Christian’s music library.

So Long Summer

2010-04-24T04:27:00.009+07:00

Yet another post about the weather. It's hard to think about anything else right now, because we have been MELTING. Yesterday was another 40+ degree day. I took the motorcycle out to visit a few of the people from church, but by early afternoon had to retreat to the house for some shade. The kids started bugging me about riding bikes. Why in the world would they want to go outside in heat like this? Because they are four and two, that's why.

My grandmother says she would rather have cold weather than hot weather, because when it's cold you can always put more clothes on. You can't take more clothes off though when it gets hot. I think the great-grandkids might disagree with her on that one.

While out riding in the driveway, Aubrey noticed that the mango tree behind the house is loaded with ripe fruit. We decided (ok, I decided) that eating mangos would be better than riding bikes in the summer heat. The variety of mango at our house isn't really the sweet, yellow kind. Think of it as the "Granny Smith" of mangos. But these were so ripe as to be falling off the tree, and we found a few sweet ones. I hadn't been getting any mangos up to this point, since the landlord usually comes and harvests them, but since they were starting to fall off the tree I figured she isn't coming for them this year.

Inside Aubrey and I carved up the mangos.

Aubrey: "Mmmmm. Mangos are my favorite fruit."
CTG: "Really, I thought Jackfruit was your favorite fruit?"
Aubrey: "Oh, I forgot. I have two favorite fruits. Mangos and jackfruit."
CTG: "Yeah, Jack-Bauer-fruit and mangos are both pretty good."

I woke up at about twelve-thirty this morning to a weird feeling. This unfamiliar sensation of...a breeze coming in through the windows. That felt nice. As I listened - I heard a sound that is quite common in the NW USA, but one I haven't heard for months in central Thailand - rain beginning to fall. Then the best part: the smell of new rain. Man I missed that. There is actually a word for that smell: petrichor. If Aubrey had been awake I would have told her that's my favorite smell. I can still kinda smell it. It rained lightly for almost two hours. Two days would have been fine by me, but I'll take what I can get.

So long summer. I'll miss your mangos and jackfruit, but that's about it.

Breaking Even

2010-04-04T16:13:00.001+07:00

So I enjoy linux. It's nice how customizable things are, for one. Which is why I have this little widget in one of my panels that lets me see what the temp is like back home in the pacific northwest. At the same time, I have another widget set to the local temp. It turns out, we broke even today. 39 degrees, both in western Washington, and in central Thailand:

So in related news, it's summer here. It feels like it just blew in last week. Thai folks love complaining about the weather. I guess they have a good reason to. It also serves as a favorite conversation piece. At a loss for small talk to make? Try this:

You: "man, it sure is hot today."

Guy at the gas station: "you ain't kiddin'. Guess it's true about global warming, eh?"

You: "uhm. Dunno, wasn't last April about the same?"

Guy at the gas station: "nah man, when I was a kid it was never this hot."

You: "No kiddin'..."

And on and on it goes, right up until the rainy season.

Would You Wear It?

2010-01-16T15:42:00.005+07:00

Seen in a shop today:

I couldn't bring myself to spring for it, but couldn't pass it by either. I'm pretty sure the Guevara/Obama combo is meant to be a compliment. Would you wear it?

Mini-Meat

2009-12-23T15:28:00.001+07:00

I have lived in Thailand for about five years now. When the neighbors started blaring traditional Thai music loud enough to shake the windows before FIVE IN THE MORNING, I realized that much of what seemed unusual when I first moved to Asia has become pretty routine. Instead of getting ticked at them, I just thought, “huh, guess the neighbors are having a wedding or something today.” Likewise with foods – everything seems pretty ordinary these days. That is, until today.

Today a couple of the folks from church and I went out to visit the homes of a few others from church. Around noon we stopped into a noodle shop for some lunch. What’s that on the menu? Field mouse. Then I’m ordering that. I’ve heard of some folks eating this, but until now never been to a place that actually made it.

The unmistakable little carcasses were just begging me to eat them. The people I was with suggested having it prepared “Phat phet” – mmmm, fried spicy field mouse. I figured they know more than me, so followed the suggestion.

Let me tell ya’, they make their “Noo naa phat phet” very, very spicy.

The verdict? I think this first taste will also be my last. Nothing against the flavor of mouse meat, but there are just too many bones to make it an enjoyable meal.

Loy Your Grathong

2009-11-02T07:57:00.001+07:00

It’s time again for the Loy Grathong festival in Sukhothai. We have a few newcomers to the central Thai mission team, so we took them to the mother of all Loy Grathong festivals, which happened to be nearby in Sukhothai.

Loy Grathong is a festival in Thailand where people float little boats down rivers or in ponds to symbolize their sending away their troubles and sins from their lives. We skipped that part of the activities, but I mustered up the motivation to dust off the camera and submit a few shots of the old city for my loyal readers:

We actually beat the crowds by going the night before the main festival, but the place was already decorated up very nicely.

Maintenance

2009-08-25T09:16:00.001+07:00

A while back, my old pickup needed a new battery. When shopping for a car battery, what you will notice right away is that folks here in central Thailand rarely use the newer “maintenance free” style of car batteries. As far as I can tell, there are a couple reasons for this. 1) The maintenance free batteries are more expensive. 2) The older style batteries seems to last slightly longer (provided you take good care of them).

I have had to get into the habit of checking the water levels in the battery weekly, just like the other fluid levels in the truck. Actually, the battery needs more than just regular checking, it needs regular filling. And you can’t just fill them up with ordinary old water, like the stuff out of the toilet, either. Thankfully, I live within easy walking distance of a service station where they sell what car batteries crave: ‘lectrolytes.

No word yet on whether my plants like this stuff too.

Gardening Fail

2009-08-09T17:41:00.001+07:00

A while back, I planted several types of veggies out in the back yard. The only one that survived: okra. So far, these are the only guys who have eaten any of it.

All Teared Up

2009-05-04T19:41:00.001+07:00

There aren’t too many things that get me teary-eyed. One of those is conjunctivitis. Pink eye (or at the Thais call it “red-eye”), is something I see a little more of in Thailand than I remember seeing in the Northwest.

Earlier on in my time here, one friend in particular seemed to have it twice a month or so. It may have been that Thailand had some bugs that he hadn’t much resistance to, or maybe it had something to do with him living in the post-tsunami refugee camps at the time. The kids running around the camp seemed to come down with it from time to time, but that may have been just because of the Canadian guy with sensitive eyes staying among them. Eventually another friend staying at the camp caught it from the kids. She (along with my wife and I) seemed to think it was pretty funny when she rubbed her eye, then stuck it in the eye of another friend who had been doing his best to stay away from the outbreak. He didn’t find it quite so funny.

Thinking back on that, it seems more mean that funny. Until last week, I hadn’t had this annoying affliction since I was about six years old. Like my friend, I probably got it from someone sticking their hand in my face; but unlike him it probably wasn’t intentional. I’m sure all of my readers know first hand about this irritating, yet non-serious bug. But I learned a few things this week that maybe you didn’t know:

don’t ride motorcycles when you have pink-eye. The wind combined with lack of face-shield only seems to aggravate the condition.
don’t let on to any of your ESL students that you have pink-eye. Their parents will be calling with sudden cancelations.
don’t ride motorcycles at dusk when you have pink-eye. The insects pelting you eyeballs only seem to aggravate the condition.

In writing this, I’m reminded that there is a certain line in attempted humorous autobiographical writing. A line between taking a light-hearted outlook towards the things you go through, and revealing to the whole internet that you might be a bit of an idiot.

Whoops, I think I need to put some eye-drops in, I’m getting all teared up again.

Chew On This

2009-04-22T20:35:00.001+07:00

Growing up in the northwest United States, I was exposed to a few things that kids in other parts of the world might be missing out on. No, I’m not referring to hunting, fishing, and other outdoor activities – though most kids are sorely lacking in exposure to those types of sports. What I had in mind was something a little less wholesome: chew. That’s right, good ol’ chewing tobacco.

I remember as a kid in Jr. High, when I became the lucky owner of a half pouch of Beechnut. How this bag of smokeless gold came to rest in a ditch along the road where I walked home from school, I’ll never know. Most likely it had been discarded by a more discriminating snuff user upon his first taste of the stuff. My outdoorsman hero chewed Copenhagen, but that brand is only for the toughest and most rugged northwesterners. And for people old enough to buy their own.

Thankfully, chew was hard enough for me to procure at that age that it lost it’s attraction before I could make a habit of it. Nowadays it seems that chewing tobacco is a habit still kept only by tough old outdoorsman (and women) types of another generation. Actually, a similar description could be applied to the “chew” many people enjoy here in Thailand. You guessed it: betel nut.

Betel nut, or “mahk” in Thai, was at one time quite common in S.E. Asia, but in recent decades has fallen into decline. When you take a look at the long term effects on your mouth, it isn’t hard to see why:

Betel nut trees (actually, Areca palms) can be found most anywhere in Thailand. As I write this I can see a few in the neighbor’s front yard. They are used as ornamental palms practically everywhere. Here are a few in the city park:

The betel nuts (Areca nuts) grow on little sprigs off of the trunk. The cows grazing in the park didn’t seem to mind me helping myself to some of the local produce.

Kids in America really don’t know what they’re missing. Anyone old enough to walk can buy betel nut if they like. No need scavenge for it, or wait in front of convenience stores asking people to buy it for you. Heck, if they don’t want to buy it, they can grab a few from their own front yards.

Betel nut contains a mild stimulant. Something akin to a cup of coffee. I didn’t notice anything of that nature, but I did find that it makes your whole mouth numb! The taste also leaves a lot to be desired. Try to imagine the bitter/sour flavor of a very green banana. Now multiply that by a hundred and you have something close to the flavor of fresh mahk off the tree. On the plus side though, it still tastes better than Beechnut.

Not-So-Happy New Year

2009-04-17T06:51:00.001+07:00

Enough already. Songkran is supposed to be over, and I’m supposed to be able to leave the house without getting wet. Wrongo. This is not the case in small town central Thailand. Fortunately, for you, you are reading the blog of one savvy central Thailand dweller. Here are my tips for staying dry in central Thai:

Don’t Be Foreign

I can’t stress this point enough. In villages like mine, people generally play nice when it comes to Songkran. No throwing water on people with mobile phones, cameras, newspapers, and anything else that your fun will likely destroy. The exception to this rule being that if foreigners are holding anything falling into that category, everybody will go out of their way to target them.

Aim High

The old trick they teach you in driving school? Aiming high just might keep you dry. As you cruise the many lanes of your central Thai village, scan far ahead for wet patches on the road. These are dead giveaways of children and teenagers lurking with buckets of water. If you see these spots early enough, you may still have time to choose an alternate route.

Use Human Shields

As it turns out, the Palestinians really know what they are doing when they pull this one. I make it a point to bring my one-year-old daughter with me on trips to the market. If my careful search for wet road, and attempts to look Thai fail, she may yet cause the little water flinging delinquents to find mercy somewhere in their Songkran loving hearts.

If after following these tips you are still getting wet days after Songkran officially ends, just do what the Thais do: smile. Us foreigners really have no one to blame but ourselves. Sitting on a motorcycle in nice dry clothes was just asking for trouble.

New Years Celebration in April

2009-04-16T09:48:00.001+07:00

I avoided it for two days, but in the I end I just couldn’t help myself. I joined in a bit of the water fightin’ fun for this year’s Songkran festival. It seemed to be a bit much last year, but this time around the kids and I kind of enjoyed it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that fun for everyone. For most of the first two days of the Buddhist new year, while many of us folks out in the province were shooting each other with squirt guns, another bunch of folks in Bangkok were shooting each other with tear gas and live ammunition. By the third day of the festivities, the rioters in Bangkok had surrendered, and most of us out in the boondocks seemed to have grown weary of water fights.

Many expats and Thais alike complain how Songkran has gotten out of hand in recent years. Perhaps not as out of hand as the Taksin supporters in Bangkok, but some people do seem to overdo it. My sleepy little town in Central Thailand didn’t have problems with either of the two trouble-making groups. The kids were polite and didn’t get people wet who obviously weren’t playing (mostly), and the red-shirted rebels were nowhere to be found.

Technically this year the celebration is over, and apparently so are the demonstrations in Bangkok. But both are a lot like a Brian Bosworth haircut: you can be sure they will come back. No matter how ugly it got the last time around. Some things really just can’t be helped.

Beating the Summer Heat

2009-04-11T08:38:00.001+07:00

It’s time again for the Songkran festival again. Songkran is the Theravada Buddhist new years celebration, marked nowadays by dowsing anyone and everyone with water. Last year I posted a few shots of the festivities – but I’m a little reluctant to take the camera out into the watery belly of the beast again. The whole water-fight/parade/party sounds about as appealing a way to beat the heat as wet socks. The three-day holiday part of it will be nice though. A good book for me, some squirt guns for the kids, and BAM – a happy Songkran for everyone.

The Hottest Thai Food in the World Pt.2

2009-03-24T07:11:00.001+07:00

I’ve been trying my hand at gardening. When we arrived back in Thailand, I planted several different vegetables. and a couple different kinds of trees. I was amazed at the abuse that tropical plants can handle.

Back home in the northwest, I can remember unsuccessful hunters trying to take home western larch saplings as a reminder of their favorite place to get skunked. But not a single tree ever survived the transplant from eastern to western WA. These things are much easier in Thailand. Like the time I saw a particular tree I wanted for the yard, growing (assumedly) wild near a rice field. I yanked it up by the roots and rode home with it on the motorcycle, roots (more like a stub) blowing freely in the wind. After sticking it in the ground with a little water from time to time, my new tree is doing just fine. Another tree was given to me after church one day. They had yanked it up by the roots and kept it in a bucket of water for me. I chucked it in the back of the truck and went on to the next church for the day and forgot about it. Then got invited to a friends house for lunch. Late that afternoon I got home and remembered the now crispy, dried-out, rootless piece of wood that was in the back of the truck. This one took a little more time, but as of this writing, it has sprouted fresh leaves.

Since it is so easy to grow things in the tropics, my faithful readers must be wondering how my bhut jolokia peppers are coming along. I’m ashamed to report that they aren’t. Sure, they survived the heat and lack of care on my part, but they couldn’t survive the bugs. I guess even the pests in central Thailand like spicy food. The whole project wasn’t a total loss however. I’ve still got a few seeds left, so maybe I’ll try them again when the rainy season starts.

A Steady Hand

2009-03-22T15:13:00.003+07:00

I was raised to appreciate the outdoors. A lot of that appreciation came from hiking, hunting, and fishing in the northwest United States. Like most people brought up that way, I also learned to respect firearms. This was encouraged in various ways over the years – but none more than getting my own gun. For my ninth birthday I got a bolt-action .22 rifle. The gun was a family heirloom that my father had received when he was nine, and which his dad had received when he was nine. I used different guns for hunting over the years, but didn’t own another until quite a while later when my grandfather gave me his 30.06. This was a monumental gift, because ever since I was old enough to go outside I had understood that the 30.06 is a magical caliber of gun. When a 30.06 is fired in the general direction of a quadruped, said quadruped will stop breathing. That’s just a given. The span between the time the gun is fired and the time the animal actually enters respiratory arrest might be several years, but the juju of the .06 never fails.

At an auto repair shop recently, I learned that the proprietor was also an avid hunter. I’d heard a little bit about the hunting here in Thailand, but until then had yet to meet a serious one. While my truck was being worked on, he brought out his hunting rifle for me to have a look. His “hunting rifle” turned out to be a Czech made .22. Seems like a decent little gun, though nothing special. Then again, what’s that on the side of the scope?

A flashlight? I had begun to form a somewhat negative opinion of these guys – mostly based on the way they kept waving the muzzle around in the direction of people – but this made up for that somewhat. Back home I had only heard of lights being mounted on pistols - presumably to help in deterring Californians and other undesirables from sneaking into your home and helping themselves to your property. I have always thought that racking a pump action shotgun would be enough to convince would be intruders to look for another another line of work (and for a clean pair of shorts), but the sound of a semi-automatic pistol cocking while a spotlight momentarily blinds you might do the trick too. In this case the flashlight isn’t for home defense, but for night hunting. I’m not sure what you can hunt at night with a .22 and a tiny flashlight, but since he let me shoot it I’m sure some of that 30.06 juju will flow his way.

Colors

2009-03-12T20:34:00.001+07:00

I got to thinking about my grandfather the other day. I learned plenty of things from him, but the thing that stands out most in my mind is his colorful use of the English language. I don’t mean in the sense that he used obscene language, just that he was fond of colorfully descriptive terms. I remember a period when I had an uncle that he wasn’t too fond of. Grampa tried to be nice to the guy, but it was from grampa that I learned that the new uncle was “worthless as tits on a boar.” Another time I recall him making a reference to being “busier than a one-legged man in a butt kicking contest”. I doubt he was the first to use these terms, but he was the first person I heard use them.

Here in central Thailand, a friend was kind enough to give my daughter a book of Thai idioms. I was pleasantly surprised to find out that Thailand has colorfully spoken grandfathers too! Here are a couple of gems from the book:

The above reads “It’s better to defecate than to flatulate.” The idea being that it’s better to at least get very small returns from your efforts than none at all.

This one reads “Poops and won’t let the dogs eat it.” The thought describing a person who is so stingy, he won’t even… Umm - you get the picture.

Some of my non-northwest United States readers might be a little uncomfortable with the bathroom references. But I’m sure that no matter where you’re from, you’re vocabulary is a little more colorful for having had a grandfather.