I met a few other travelers along the way including Karen from San Diego and a group of Norwegians just starting a month of travel through Thailand. Karen gave me some great advice on where to go down south, as she was leaving the next day for home. I took up her advice to travel to the beautiful and overcrowded Ko Phi Phi island. The archipelago is home to the movie “The Beach,” harvesting of swiftlet nests (made from the bird’s saliva) used in the excessively priced Chinese bird-nest soup, stunning Karst formations jutting out of the water, and a devastating Boxing Day Tsunami.

The island has recovered well in the past few years, thanks mainly to the thriving tourist money pouring into the island. I randomly ran into the group of Norwegians I had met in Bangkok, and we had a blast snorkeling, building sandcastles, tanning (and burning) on the beach, watching Muay Thai boxing, and partying early into the morning on the beach. This debauchery island is filled mostly with Scandinavian travelers, and I picked up on a few words thanks to my new friends. My favorite was the word for pre-gaming (drinking before going out) forshpiel, which also means foreplay.

Every time I opened my eyes after laying in the sun or opening the window I was again awestruck at the beauty of this place. Parts of the island are still being rebuilt after the Tsunami, and evacuation routes are now very clearly marked. I left this beautiful island to visit a friend of my brother’s on Koh Lanta who has been living here for several months training as a Muay Thai boxer while getting his PADI Dive Master certification. AJ fights on Sunday, and I’m enjoying the more relaxed and desolate beaches here while waiting to cheer him.

Various members of the group helped arrange our transport (a spacious 12 passenger van), translating, and site schedules. We were ready to take off the next afternoon after a brief introductory meeting with the Chiang Mai Faculty of Engineering. For the next 4 days we managed to cycle through a pattern of being driven around curvy roads (making some people sick), talking with school administrators, village leaders, and helpful members of the communities, eating too much delicious food, taking hundreds of photos, writing lots of notes, and managing to have some fun along the way.

Sticky rice and coconut milk cooked in bamboo

The communities we were looking at helping are mainly hill tribe people. This sub-section of the Thai population originally emigrated here from Tibet and Myanmar, and many are more direct refugees from Myanmar. The tribespeople now have Thai citizenship, but maintain their heritage and customs. One of the tribes, the Lisu, wear brightly colored outfits all the time. Many people would assume they see this in the tourist spots, but in reality we pass fields with people working and children playing in bright neon colors which would make the 80s proud.

Unfortunately this is the burning season. By day the skies are filled with smoke blocking the spectacular mountain views, and by night lines of fires could be seen on the nearby hills. It is a sad practice to see still happening, and there is little work being done to promote more sustainable farming.

Walking through fields as they were preparing to burn them to a completed project

One of my favorite experiences was waking up very early, skipping the 4-7 am market that Lynn and Dr. Andrew (Arjan Andrew, they don’t use last names in Profesor titles) went to and driving to a monastery near the Myanmar border. When I say near, I mean the next hill over. We happily were taking photos of Burma when one of our translators told us it was actually a military base. Immediately above the monastery was a Thai military outpost. They had drilled a well for the school we were looking at, and were happy to show us around when they learned we were also trying to help them out. The commander allowed us to take as many pictures as we wanted, and said they were on good terms with the Myanmar base right now. He pointed out the volleyball net where they occasionally play friendly matches, as well as the pungee stick studded fields between trenches. The main reason for both bases was to stop illegal immigration, and the road had been closed here between the countries. We were back to the assessment and driving cycle by 830.

After several jam-packed days of traveling we were back in Chiang Mai saying goodbye to our generous hosts. Many thanks go out to the Chiang Mai North Rotary Club, especially to Suprarie, Wonpen, and Sunisa. As we were driving to the airport, Sunisa asked me why if I had a good time here. I responded, “I love it!”

“Why do so many foreigners say they love Thailand so much?”

I pondered the question posed to me for a few moments.

“It’s because you are all so happy. In America we like to moan and groan about all that is wrong. Everything you hear is negative, and especially now with the recession in full swing.”

“But we have a recession in Thailand now too, its not much better.”

“Yeah, but everyone here finds a way to still be happy. Be it making small jokes, or spending time with friends enjoying each others company. Even in the small villages we visited in need of help, people were still happy, life still resounds in the face of all the bad things.”

“Yeah, we are all pretty happy.”

While in transit to Thailand, I talked to one too many old men telling me how fantastic Thailand was, and how they were going there to meet a future wife, or have some fun in Bangkok, or travel to some lush tropical island with a “friend.” I was skeptical hearing how great Thailand was from these old men portraying a little too many nuances to me, but after traveling here, I understand. Why wouldn’t you want to travel to a beautiful country with happy people, cheap food, and gorgeous mountains and beaches?

Sohna is about 40 minutes from Abheypur, and the only place we could have more technical work completed, like welding. We arrived at the metal shop with our pieces to be worked on, and were immediately put on hold as the power was out. The power came on for a brief amount of time, and they did a little work. Again, the power went out, this time for at least an hour, so the friendly villagers carted us off to a nearby temple/hot spring. The shopkeeper proudly showed us around buying us snacks and drinks along the way. We took our shoes and socks off and entered the temple. It was more of a bathing house with a main compound in the middle separated into two baths, one for men, and one for women. Everyone was enthralled with seeing us, and happily said hello and showed us around. At one of the food stands I asked where the trash can was to throw away my plate. He smiled, took it from me, and from behind his counter threw it into the street gutter. Our 30 minutes of metalwork costs us a few hundred rupees, five hours of unreliable power, and some sight-seeing.

We returned with the pieces, and after some talking I realized we had a huge communication breakdown. The parts were all wrong. I managed to talk with the head construction worker, and with a moment alone on the roof I drew pictures and we both mimed what we thought should be done for it to work, where the wind would come from, and what parts we needed. I decided to just make sure I knew what they were doing and it would work with the hope being they would take ownership over it. We needed to return to have slots made on the braces, as the holes didn’t line up. I labeled everything, and poked some holes in some pages of a book for the holes on the solar panel frame to bring along for reference. This time the head construction worker came with me to the shop, and he quickly understood why I poked the holes for each one, so we could make sure they lined up. He smiled, and we both talked around the translator as he tried to ask questions which we both answered him in different languages. This continued as we chose some piping, hosing, and hardware before driving back to the school. Happily, we returned, and the work was completed.

The tools available here are primitive, like scratching out calculations on the roof of a building arguing over angles and lengths, or using a piece of re-bar and hammer to make a hole in brick. Although I could think of a half dozen solutions to a plumbing issue, the real answer was the one the villagers could replace on their own if it broke. Not the one that would work the best, but decommission a whole system until a new part could be bought from the US. The filtration system had a network of PVC pipes to connect, and when asked how we could make holes, they started a fire. The best way for them to make a hole is to heat a metal pipe of the necessary diameter, and melt a hole in the plastic. So a cow-patty fire was quickly made with the help of some dry grass and a lit cigarette.

The engineer in me is continually impressed by the “make it work” solutions. It is in these types of moments I see the willingness and drive within people. There is no money to be thrown at a problem, just ingenuity, innovation, and experience.

The taxi ride was a great introduction to driving in India. We dodged through traffic, blockades, cows, and bicycles. It was a very foggy morning, and shadowed figures would emerge from the side of the road only to vanish as quickly as they appeared. The occasional speed bump slowed us down, and it was only after five minutes of swerving I was confident they indeed drove on the left side of the street. The cab driver had no idea where to bring me, and was annoyed I wouldn’t let him drop me off at a well known four star hotel. After asking directions about 6 or7 times we agreed to have a local show us in return for a lift. I arrived at a guarded guest house, where they whisked my bags away and said goodnight.

After a hearty breakfast, a cab was arranged to bring me to the small village of Abheypur. This sounds like an easy task, but it took them almost two hours to figure it out. The ride was a cacophony of action, unlike the side of a typical American / European road, the action is multi-leveled. To start, take the number of lanes marked on the pavement, and double it, that is the approximate number of lanes of traffic there actually is, and rules on passing are as simple as don’t get hit. Immediately off the main flow is the make-shift parking lot of auto rickshaws, mopeds, motorcycles, and the occasional cow. The next section consistently has groups of men huddled around completely some type of action, hammering out a dent, moving bricks, and avoiding the direct sunlight as needed. Lastly, there is the ring of garbage, and heaps of random materials unneeded and allowed to amass with the random scavenging dog, cow, and or pig sifting it as a hopeful past-time. It is only then you get to the action of the street vendor selling food in front of a store, the moving of people, and what you typically would see driving around. For the first half of the trip, it was this type of sensory overload that filled my vision and with time fields slowly replacing shops. In time we were back to the same protocol of stopping at each intersection to see which way it was to the village. After a half hour of driving around a rural area doing this, we were in a small village of sorts backed up by an extra muddy street. As I looked at the car in front of me, I saw it was filled with Caucasian people; a rarity since arriving. I deduced we were close, and we followed the other car for another ten minutes and arrived at the schoolyard in Abheypur.

The village is sparse, and definitely a place in need of this help. The street is at times filled with a watery concoction, and the open drainage ways thick with film. Cow patties are strewn around drying, and eventually stacked neatly to be used as fuel. Buffalo are tied up inside courtyards, or along the edge of the street, and the pace of life is sluggish. The village is divided more or less into sections, with farmers holding better land, and an area named as the “Potter’s Village,” where more impoverished villagers lived. The village is built at the base of some hills overlooking a vast plain of fields. This area is referred to as the bread belt of India, with the main crops being wheat and mustard. The hills above the village are grazed by goats and cows, and offer a great view of the surrounding countryside. Peacocks run wild around the area, and would invade the schoolyard when possible. In the mornings, the monkeys would come over to scope out the action, and if possible steal some villager’s food.

Dave Pines, the Profesor in charge of the University of Hartford EWB Chapter introduced me to the team, and showed me what the team has completed on past projects. This includes a solar powered well, storage tanks, and a pipeline with more storage tanks to a nearby section of the village, and the current project creating a rain water harvesting and filtration system. In addition to the engineering project, a group from the art school had joined them to paint a mural to help teach the girls about sharing, respecting water, cleanliness, and using dustbins. After hanging out with the team for the afternoon, helping as much as I could, and playing with the kids after school who insisted on having just “one photo” taken of them, we piled into the mini-bus and van to head to a local school boarding school, Pathways, where we were graciously being hosted.

Pathways World School is an international school located about an hour from Abheypur. They recently prided themselves on having six students selected as guests to the US Presidential Inauguration of Barack Obama. The school was a complete change from the village, immaculate expansive campus, with cafeteria, and homey dorm rooms. It was comforting, and relaxing. At the same point it was bizarre. Although I was in India, I was back in the company of Americans; many of whom have never traveled outside of the US before, and I had flashbacks of being back in the US. It was an odd feeling, but not an unpleasant one, everyone has been welcoming and inclusive, and I’m glad they have allowed me to join them.