Lahu Village in the jungles of Northern Thailand. The place that gave us such pleasures as dub-step pig grunts; squat toilets (or nothing); endless parades of ants; constant traffic of chickens, pigs and dogs; and sunrise wake-up calls with half doodling cockerels.
….that gave us characters such as our heartbroken neighbor practising her Thai karaoke in the shack next door during our meditations; the ‘banana-papaya-cooking’ salesman persistently flogging his home-made knives and bracelets; Jakkur, village bachelor who once fell in love with a Canadian girl that taught him how to drink whisky (‘For that week, I brushed my teeth every morning and took a shower every day’); and Mama, ruler of the kitchen, protector of tin mugs and banisher of all things coconut.
…..and of course, gems such as, ‘Maybe we wash blankets today’ – ‘How will you dry them?’ – ‘In the sun’ – ‘But there’s no sun. Only rain’ – ‘Sun is coming. We asked’. And a random concern about leaving shoes outside…. ‘I wonder if the dogs are marking their territory in my shoes? Every morning I wake up and they’re wet….’.
So humid, my laptop was disabled. What brought us together? An excellent course.
Pumpkin soup will never be the same. It was a pleasure to hunt out-of-date Oreos with you all. May the plinks of the Lahu guitar and the sound of Dubbayoo live in your ears forever……..