Let her eat cake!

I’m sitting on a train that’s slowly chugging its way through the Thai countryside, bound for the rural, reticent, and remote northeast region of Thailand.

Thus far, Issan, as it’s called, has been little more to me than the elusive, far-flung land where some of my most favorite Thai flavors were born—spicy som tam salad, that ever-seductive sticky rice, and the sassy lemon-zing of lahb… no desserts, of course– Thailand is not known for its sweets.  Although seasoned with scattered Khmer ruins and a healthy number of national parks, including Khao Yai at the very base of the region, Issan somehow manages to evade the attention of the tourist trail.  Nearing the end of my month-long holiday, tired after the non-stop action and adventure of my recent family visits, I’m ready to slow it down a couple of notches, and I’ve got a feeling that Issan will be just my speed.

This is, after all, very much like how my month began, and there is something very nice about that circularity—it is my vaca-denouement, if you will.  Except instead of heading northeast, solo on a 7 hour train ride, I started off the month of travel going northwest, in the company of my parents, en route to the mystical town of Sangkhlaburi.

Sangkhlaburi.  Oh, Sangkhlaburi!  It is, without a doubt, my favorite spot in Thailand that I’ve visited so far.  Just miles from the Burmese border, Sangkhlaburi is the most idyllic, mist-shrouded little town– surrounded by purple mountain silhouettes, furtive jungle, and steeped in a medley of Thai, Mon, Karen, and Burmese culture.  Ramshackle houses built on stilts line the Khao Laem Reservoir, as pontoon-like raft-houses with floating bamboo walkways calmly await the rising waters of monsoon season.  The longest wooden bridge in Thailand connects the Thai town to a Mon village on the opposite bank.  During the day, women can be seen crossing the bridge baring heavy loads on their heads, while at night, rooster-headed lampposts light up like two lines of stars across the silken black waters.

Getting to Sangkhlaburi was no easy feat.  The first van driver we tried to hire turned us down because he didn’t want to drive those roads at nighttime, and once we were finally twisting and climbing our way up and around the mountains, I understood why.  Thai people are not renowned for being especially safe drivers, alternating between whichever side of the road most strikes their fancies and/or  patience at any given moment. But our guy was honking his horn at every bend in the road, and I cringed with uncertainty each time he embarked on the climb, praying to all that is good in the world that another car didn’t come flying down the thin mountain road to make us forfeit our patch of pavement.  After a couple hours making our way through civilization, followed by a couple more winding through the mountains of upper Kanchanaburi province in the dark, I think my parents must have been wondering where in hell I had decided to bring them, but when we arrived in Sangkhlaburi, it was well worth our efforts.

Our first day in Sangkhlaburi was spent exploring the Mon village across the way– visiting an Indian-influenced Burmese temple that we agreed, though interesting, was far more beautiful from afar than up close, and stumbling upon a beautiful and sprawling forested monastery that looked and sounded nearly deserted, if not for a bunch of inbred dogs and the monks’ loud and hypnotic chants.  Walking back across the wooden bridge to our guesthouse, we befriended a gang of little Mon boys who were very proud to have captured a blue-headed rango lizard (as they called it… I certainly don’t know my lizards).  I took out my camera to document their accomplishment, and the little guy managed to squirm out of their grasp and right over the edge of the bridge before I got my shot.  The boys scrambled down the (very tall) wooden legs of the bridge to recapture their hostage as Mom and Dad and I continued on our way to find some lunch, but just before we reached the other side of the bridge we turned around to the sound of joyful screams and squeals, our friends sprinting to catch up with us, their arms flailing in the air as they presented the reclaimed (or, more likely, a brand-spanking-new) victim.  The boys, Rango, and I all posed for a photo, and they squealed even louder when we showed them the picture on my digital camera.

We capped the day off with a swim and a long-tail boat ride out to the sunken temple from the old flooded Mon village to watch the sun set, and our night was spent sipping Singhas/horrible, chilled Thai red wine that we ordered, regrettably, upon my request, tasting new Thai dishes, and playing three-person games of Hearts (during which my Dad failed to win the world-championship, if my memory serves me.  All of Thailand cried.).

Day two in Sangkhlaburi was Adventure Day!  When tourists visit Thailand, high priority on everyone’s bucket list seems to be riding on elephant-back.  I’ve done this now with every round of visitors I’ve hosted, but this Sangkhlaburi tour with my parents was in a class all it’s own.  We arrived by pick-up truck in a Karen tribe village following another reservoir boat ride around the towering waterside cliffs and floating community, and it was here that we met our pachydermal friends.  The elephants looked happy and healthy and well-taken care of, and as my mom and I sat perched on top they carried us past jungle-clad mountains and over river waters where kids were cooling off and women were washing the clothes.  Observing Thai hilltribe people going about their lives from atop these mammoth creatures added an element to the experience that elevated it (no pun intended) beyond your average guided pony-ride around a pole.  And for the return trip, we waved goodbye to Dumbo and the gang and mounted bamboo rafts, floating downstream past the same majestic vistas and some bathing water-buffalo on our way.

Being here in Thailand on my own is right for right now. It is an experience that I craved, and because of that I am hopeful and confident that I have a lot to gain from it.  But the sad part is that you can’t always have your cake and eat it too.  If what I crave is travel and adventure, it means leaving the people I love most while I go in search of that. And  sometimes, traveling on your own, or even with friends– but friends from distant places who come from different backgrounds and have different visions for the future, and with whom you really can’t ever be certain when your paths will cross again—you miss out on the post-travel. The “remember when?”- part-of-travel, when you get to relive it all through the stories and perspectives and recollections of your companions. Sitting beside my mom on top of our elephant buddy, admiring the vast Asian landscape together, this is what I was grateful for.  I know that, in all of my travels in Thailand and beyond, Sangkhlaburi is a place that will stick with me, and for that reason I am glad to have shared it with my parents.  Instead of returning home to the U.S. and saying to my parents “Hey Mom and Dad! I visited the most perfectly beautiful and tranquil place… it was called Sangkhlaburi!” I will be able to say, “Hey Mom and Dad! Remember when we went to Sangkhlaburi?”… and that is the really special part.  Sangkhlaburi was an excellent place for us to both check a couple items off the tourist bucket-list and experience some true and authentic Thai culture, but really, every place we went and experience we had was made more special, more memorable, by our being together.  So, it has been a good month. Despite Thailand’s poor selection of dessert items,  throughout my parents’ visit and my siblings’ soon after, I’ve gotten to both have and eat a lot of cake. 🙂

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(More photos to come– my camera is without its cord at the moment.  In the meantime, I’ve posted some of my parents’ shots.)