Body Aches and More Thai Hospitality

As we left Ayutthaya, Brant's body began to ache with the sad sad signs of inevitable sickness. Feeling weak, we decided to move a few miles at a time, pulling over whenever necessary.

We had all the time in the world to make it to Chiang Mai. Our permaculture course just north of Chiang Mai begins on October 17th, so with 17 days to get 450 miles we took it easy. Not to say it was easy for Brant. The sun was scorching, illuminating all of the color and foliage around us, but still powerful and wearing. We passed by herds of cattle and their shepherds and noted that cows here look very very different than cows at home.

We made a pit stop for lunch and Brant ordered sweet and sour soup and sipped on a fresh coconut. That is one thing you can count on here, good healthy food. Good luck finding soup and a vitamin rich coconut on the side of the road in Kansas! But here, a standard roadside stop offers what's good for anyone's tummy and immune system.

Around three in the afternoon we arrived in the small city of Sing Buri. We were told to call Mr. Nhong when we saw the "Money Pub" sign just outside of town. We both crossed our fingers and hoped that we were not expected to go to "Money Pub." But we called and Mr. Nhong said he would be there in minutes. Hot and sweaty, we sat under an  awning across the street waiting for our host.

You never know what to expect when meeting a stranger. But in a few minutes a kind looking middle-aged Thai pulled up on a Surly Long Haul Trucker. His bike was decked out with fenders and larger tires, all of the signs of someone who travels by bicycle. My favorite of his bicycle accoutrements was a cup holder basket zip tied to his handlebars. He tried to give it to me. Believe me I wanted it, but I couldn't bare taking such an awesome accessory. Instead, I pedal looking for roadside basket shops.

We quickly learned that Nhong's English was not fluent, but way way better than Brant and I's Thai. We communicated mostly in English, pulling out our Thai dictionary to help fill in the gaps.

We didn't know if we were going to stay with Mr. Nhong or what to expect, but within minutes he was guiding us to the local Thai  Temple. So that's how it happened, all of the sudden we were staying with monks. Apparently this is a normal occurrence. I had read on cycling blogs that if you ever can't find a place to sleep in South East Asia that the monks will always take you in, and that leaving a donation was all that was expected. Without any effort at all, we were experiencing this Buddhist phenomena.

Nhong spoke to the monks and then we were guided to a large room on the  temple grounds with tile floors, a bathroom, and some air conditioning. We were told that the head monk couldn't see us right away but looked forward to practicing his English and meeting us later. A very friendly monk who spoke fantastic English asked us how long we were staying. When we told him only one night he reassured and prodded us to stay longer. This monk used to work in a hotel in Bangkok, he explained, and that is where he perfected his English.

With the air con on, Mr. Nhong said he would meet us back at our room and take us to a good spot for dinner.

Poor Brant needed some rest and respite from the sun. We rolled out a big rug on the floor, drew the curtains, blew up our trusty old Thermarests, and laid down for a siesta.

We woke up to find that our shoes had been absconded by canines. Many dogs live on temple grounds, and like good old pups, they stole our shoes. Brant walked around the grounds retrieving our goods, laughing at the simplicity of life. Whether you're in Thailand or San Luis Obispo, dogs like shoes, toddlers have tantrums, pregnant women seem magic etc etc. My shoes came back with only a nibble in one of the straps (they have seen worse days).

Mr. Nhong escorted us to a restaurant and did all of the ordering. It was delicious fresh food paired with soup and rice.  Mr. Nhong and I split a beer and Brant nursed his health. But over food and Leo we learned much about our host. He used to be a policeman but quit two years ago. He now sells dried fish at the Sing Buri market, a trade passed down from his wife's side of the family. We learned that he is back in university studying public policy. He explained that many Thais want more money; he said he just wishes he could ride his bicycle around the world, and wants to work in his local government to help nourish his community. Every year, he rides a loop around Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam on his bicycle.

He refused to let us pay for our dinner, and then escorted us back to the temple.

As I lay there trying to sleep, Mr. Nhong stuck in my mind. There is a kindness about him, a peace, that makes you too want to be kind and warm. I felt sad too for some reason, in his struggle to communicate with us he felt so bad that his English wasn't better. But it just made me wish I could speak Thai. Why did he need to know our language? That weighed  a bit heavy. In America, Americans freak out if someone doesn't speak English, and here in Thailand, Thais are expected to speak English for the ease of tourists. It is true that English is spoken by far more people than Thai is, but still, it made me want to give my all to attempting new languages as we travel--whether I sound stupid (because I surely will) or not. I have felt extremely attracted to Thai culture ever since we got here, but speaking with humble Mr. Nhong made me want to learn just a little more Thai everyday.

The next morning we were set to meet our friend at 7 am. We packed up and drew our curtains and were quickly visited by the head monk. He invited us to sit and drink coffee while the monks ate a communal breakfast together. The monks eat every morning together but separately for all other meals. Brant and I  sat as outsiders looking in on a very intimate moment. The monks sang their prayers together before eating, and we sipped Milo and instant coffee. We exchanged Facebook contact with the English speaking monk, and spoke about our trip to the very interested head monk. We went back to our room to meet Nhong, and before we left, the same monk came back with a bag full of food he had purchased for us: three different types of milk (kefir, soy milk, and regular old milk), banana chips, mama noodles, and coffee.

Once again we were overwhelmed by kindness only to be overwhelmed by more kindness. Mr. Nhong greeted us with gifts, little wallets and journals, and then took us to see the central Sing Buri market where his wife was selling the fish they smoked in the wee hours of that very morning. Afterwards, he took us to eat a breakfast of beautiful green curry with eggplant, then to get some meds for Brant's aches, and then to get coffee. We got to experience the infamously cheap prescription drugs sold outside of western countries. Brant told the pharmacist how he felt and three dollars later he was given a set of drugs including antibiotics. He only took the ones for back aches and head aches, saving the antibiotics for a rainy day, but nevertheless it all cost three dollars.

Afterwards, Nhong escorted us down a road that followed the river out of town. These types of roads are Brant and I's favorite to ride. It winded us slowly along the contours of the river bank. We may have seen two cars for seven miles. Houses and people living their daily beautiful lives lined the small road. As we passed many shouted "helloo" at us and we shouted, "Sawadee ka/kruhp," back, which always makes people laugh.

The river was big and strong and brown.

Mr. Nhong wanted us to see a two hundred year old wooden Buddha at a very old wat. This wat was just off the small river road and was a peaceful sight. While we were there, a preschool class of little Thai children made a stop there too. They melted my heart as the said in unison, "Goooood morning" I said my usual "sawadee ka" back and placing my hands together and bowing my heard. They bowed back. Its such a polite culture, even rambunctious three and four year old's have so much respect. The kiddos took off their shoes before singing their prayers under the wooden beams of the old wat. I couldn't take my eyes off of them.

Mr. Nhong taught me the Thai word for children, "dek lék" (I am sure I have the accents wrong).

Just us a few kilometers up, Mr. Nhong left us and we were back on the highway. We thanked him profusely, and he explained that he wished he didn't have to work so he could ride around South East Asia with us. We wished he could too. Experiencing a country with a local is invaluable, but we were so thankful for the glimpse of Mr. Nhong's life and his love of cycling.