Riding trains with strangers in Thailand

When people want to hear about my travels, I frequently hear the same question. “But they don’t speak English, how did you get around?” Despite explaining that people do speak English, and there are books and signs to help you, I also find myself thinking about the fact that you do not always need language to get around. Language is nice, but after living abroad for years, and not always having the words to talk with the people I wanted to, I have realized, you do not always need to talk.

There is one particular memory that comes to mind. During my backpacking adventure and my second time in Thailand, I felt pretty confident in most of my city choices and knew how to get from point A to point B. I had been traveling for several weeks at this point and thought I had it down, but Ayutthaya posed a new challenge for me. Ayutthaya is about an hour north of Bangkok and is a well known city for their temple ruins. It’s a beautiful city with lots and lots of ruins, and I had just happened to be there during Songkram (I’ll save that for another post), which in itself was an intense experience.

I packed up my backpack at the hostel, and headed towards the train station. I bought a train ticket to Bangkok and was ready to leave in 20 minutes when the train came. 20 minutes. 30 minutes. 45 minutes. 1 hour. No train. I was starting to get confused and anxious. Had I missed the train or bought the wrong ticket? Was I in the right place…. I had no idea what was going on. I waited it out for about 2 hours before I started getting nervous. There was a group of foreigners not too far away from me, but when I travel I try to avoid being seen in large crowds of foreigners. (I can’t explain why, but if you travel enough, you know what I mean). Instead, I sat on the bench with a group of Thai women, and tried to casually look over their shoulders at their train tickets. Not to Bangkok, dang. A woman in all white saw what I was doing and came over to me and smiled, tapped my hand indicating she wanted to see my ticket, and I handed it to her. She then showed me her ticket, which was the same train as mine, destination กรุงเทพฯ (Bangkok). She handed my ticket back and motioned that it would be okay. And in her motion, I heard, “It’s fine, the trains are late, this is Thailand. I’ll find you when it is time”, and with that I relaxed.

I cannot remember now how much longer we waited, but when the train finally came, I could not find my new friend in white. I went and stood with a cluster of people on the platform, and she came up behind my, grabbed my hand and started walking across the tracks, and after traveling for so long you start to think, okay, let’s see what happens. I crossed the tracks with her, and walked quite a ways down the rail to a tiny wooden platform, that was barely standing. We waited there together to board the train, and the spot we chose to get on the train was significantly less crowded than where all the other foreigners had decided to get on. Ha! This is why I do not follow the other foreigners around.

We squeezed onto the seats and I held my bag in my lap. The seats were not the best, but we had seats, which a lot of people did not. I closed my eyes, took in the sounds and smells on the train. I watched people get on, animals run about, people walk through selling different drinks and snacks. After 20 minutes, the woman grabbed my hand and we were off again. This time to seats of our own, next to windows, where we had a great view of the scenery passing us by. It was a beautiful train ride, and this woman helped me through the whole process. I do not speak Thai and she didn’t speak English, but somehow we had managed to understand each other and she helped me find when and where I needed to be. Half way through our journey, she looked at her wrists, took off a turtle bracelet and clasped it onto my wrist, and smiled.

She got off the train a few stops before me but made sure to show me in my book which stop I was getting off, and to put me at ease about where I needed to get off. She got off the train and that was that. We shared only a few hours together but her hospitality and generosity spoke louder than any words we could have shared.

Motorbikes and Trust

One of my colleagues just posted a video of him riding around on a motorbike in Chiang Mai, Thailand and it had me reminiscing about a time I was riding motor bikes in Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam. It also made me think of how I blindly trust so many people, but when you travel abroad it is exactly those crazy situations you put yourself in that are often the most rewarding, and make for the best stories! Lord knows I have millions of those, so I’ll take a break from serious entries and retell a fun story from Vietnam.

My friend Carolyn and I decided to couch surf our way through Vietnam last March and our first host in Ho Chi Minh was a Sri Lankan man. He was an amazing host, and we had a great time staying with him. In the mornings he arose early and headed off to work, or was just coming home from the clubs…either way we rarely saw him in the mornings. We took our time in the mornings and gathered our plan for the day on where we were going to go, and what sites we were going to visit and what delicious new fruits we wanted to try that day.

This particular morning his cook had made us breakfast and we were discussing how we wanted to get to the market. Having both traveled throughout Asia, and lived in Japan we weren’t too concerned on the logistics of where we were going. The cook noticed us looking at maps; she didn’t speak much English, and told us in a few methods of conversing, (sign language, pointing, limited words…) that if we waited for her to finish she’d give us a ride on her motorbike. After living in a country where the dominant language is not your own, you get rather used to conversing without words, so this wasn’t as hard for us as it would be for first time tourists.

Carolyn and I are both rather adventurous travelers so we thought this would be fun. We started to ride down the elevator to the parking garage and it dawned on us that there would be three of us on a bike. Now for those of you, who have traveled in Asia, you KNOW there can be MANY people and animals on a motorbike…but we were a tad nervous.

This picture is from the internet, but you get my point.


We hopped on the bike and she put on a helmet, and so did Carolyn. But for some reason I'm pretty sure I did not have one…but hey, it’s Vietnam they do this all the time…right? The three of us rode out of the parking garage on her bike, which was actually rather scary and not at all comfortable.

We get to the top of the parking ramp, and she motions for us to get off, so we oblige and get off the motorbike. Now we are standing in a parking lot, and she is on the phone. Okay, now what, we thought.

***Now, let me interject some points you need to realize. 1) Carolyn and I do not have the phone number of our host. 2) I have an iPhone so on occasion I could get Wi-Fi to message him on the couch-surfing site, but that was about it. 3) I have our hosts address, Carolyn does not. 4) Neither one of us are positive where we are going. And 5) We do not have an emergency plan for what we should do if we get separated, keeping in mind at this time Carolyn has NO contact information on her whatsoever. ***

Back to the story, a man on a second motorbike pulls into the parking lot and the cook motions for Carolyn to get on his bike. We both look at each other and shrug, in the “let’s see what happens next” kind of way. I hop back onto the bike with the cook, and we’re off.

Our drivers stay pretty even with each other so we’re close to each other. Then we get on the highway…going AGAINST the traffic. If I have ever been close to death it was during this time. This is when your faith and prayer life is strengthened, in those moments, of oh dear God, PLEASE don’t let me die here. That terrifying act only lasted for a few minutes, but as I’m sure Carolyn would agree, a few minutes too long.

We are then off again, it’s at this point Carolyn’s driver gets way far ahead of us and I realize… I cannot see Carolyn…I do not know who this woman is, or where I am going, Carolyn is lost. I’m sure the same thoughts are going through her head. But what can you do? You’re along for the ride, quite literally. I tried to enjoy the rest of the ride on my first motor bike in Vietnam; riding on motorbikes is really quite exhilarating. But I am also thinking, I’m not wearing a helmet, I still cannot see Carolyn, and I don’t know where we are going.

Needless to say, I am a bit too trusting. I trusted this woman and that man were taking us where they said they were. I trusted that she was a safe driver and I wasn’t going to die. I trusted all the other crazy drivers not to hit us.

I trusted that God was watching us and keeping us safe. I was trusting a lot of things at the same time. And as most of my stories end, everything worked out perfectly. We both arrived around the same time at the designated location, we were both alive. We thanked our drivers and then discussed how we should probably have a meeting plan if that situation should happen again.

Tribal Exploitation

Throughout history, many different civilizations have lived a nomadic lifestyle. Moving around from one location to another based off where the resources were that they needed to survive. Over time, societies have moved away from this tradition and have established borders and boundaries thus creating a permanent residence. We’ve drawn lines to keep people in one area, or out of another. We have citizenship, documents, and papers stating where we “belong”. The most well-known nomadic group are the Roma, a subgroup of the Romani people, sometimes pejoratively called Gypsies, who live primarily in Eastern Europe.

This is Heidi a volunteer in Szurte, Ukraine with her Romani friends.
However there are many more nomadic tribes living in obscurity. In April of 2012 I was traveling through Southeast Asia, and during my time in Laos and Thailand I began to take notice of their nomadic tribes. One in particular that struck me was the Kayan people, who are a subgroup of the Red Karen tribe. This name might mean nothing to you, but if I showed you a picture, you’d know exactly who I was talking about.

All familiarized now? Many of us have probably seen someone from this tribe on a National Geographic magazine cover, or on some exotic travel show. Treating these individuals more like animals in a zoo, than a culture.

The Kayan live predominately in Northern Thailand in a small village called Mae Hong Son and few in northern Myanmar; although many have fled from Myanmar due to political turmoil and have chosen to live in refugee camps along the Thai border. Due to their nomadic life style, many of these people do not have citizenship. Let me explain what that means. It means that Kayan people do not “belong” anywhere, thus preventing them from receiving a formalized education, health care, or being able to find a job that would allow them to provide for their families. As is the norm in many Asian countries, people tend to live in small villages and provide for themselves and are generally left alone. Unless there is money to be had by someone in power, which is exactly what is happening to local tribes in Thailand.

During my visit to Chiang Mai, I had the chance to talk with some Western individuals who were living and working in the area. They were bringing Christ to these nomadic tribes, and trying to provide some sense of security to them. Although I will not discuss or argue in this post my feelings on how they were doing this…let me just say I do not think they were focusing on the most important issues that should have been addressed. (If you would really like to know, write me a comment and I’ll shed some more light onto this issue).

The tourism industry of Thailand has basically decided to “pimp out” these local villages, by making them a human zoo. They have relocated certain members of the tribe to a more tourist-friendly location and require them to live in this make-shift village. For a price, you can walk through the village, take some pictures, and buy some of the hand-crafted items made by the local artisans. This is all well and good, HOWEVER, the Kayan people must agree to live in that area, keep their rings around their necks and stay as “tribal” as possible in order to make sure the tourists pump money into the economy, and in return the Thai authorities will not arrest these individuals for being undocumented in their land.

With times changing and even small villages becoming more progressive by the influx of tourism to Asia, and the increase of NGO’s working in the area, even the smallest villages are becoming aware of modern technology and the benefits they could receive by becoming a bit more modernized. If people in any village, town or country wish (on their own accord) to become more modernized and join the technological revolution, that is great; but if you are being prevented from doing so by being forced to remain in your former ways in order for a government to financially gain by exploiting your tribal rituals…. I think we need to take a look at what our tourism patterns are doing to the countries and villages we chose to visit.

For further reading on this issue check out this article by BBC: Thai Human Zoo In my next entry I'll tell you all about my village-exploitation trip to a Hmong Village in Luang Prabang, Laos.

My Passion for all things Asian

I'm a citizen of the United States of America by birth, and a citizen of the world by choice. When I was 15 years old I took my first international trip to Europe with a group of friends from school. Ever since then I've been hopelessly addicted to traveling and learning about other cultures. My first and main interest: Asia.

I've always had a passion for Asia. Several examples of what I mean; when I was about 6 or 7 years old I met my best friend, Mariko Mizumura. Her family had moved from Tokyo to Milwaukee so her father could continue his medical research. After becoming friends I was invited over to her house many times where her mother gave me my first pair of chopsticks. In case you were wondering, they were pink and had Snoopy on them. I was then given two bowls. One filled with some type of hard beans, and the other one empty; I was charged with the task of moving all the beans from one bowl to the other. So bean by bean I learned how to use chopsticks.

The friends I have surrounded myself with have also made an impact on my cultural understandings. In Jr. High School my best friend happened to be Laotian. I spent every weekend at her house for probably a year. Learning the proper way to make noodles, eating sticky rice, and understanding that a good bowl of noodles required a box of kleenex while being eaten.

Then I went to college and became best friends with a Cambodian. He and I celebrated Cambodian New Years together with his family. In addition to that wonderful celebration we also often ate many home made Cambodian meals, his mom even taught me how to make egg rolls from scratch! Then my sophomore year of college, I decided to study abroad. No surprise to anyone, I chose Asia...more specifically China. I fell in love with Asian culture up close and personal. So when I announced I'd be moving to Japan after my college graduation, there were few people who were surprised. However not many people knew what sparked my interest in Asian cultures. It began long before China or College or even Jr. High, and has nothing to do with boys.


As most of you know, I grew up in Milwaukee. Milwaukee has a large population of Hmong refugees. The Hmong people are an ethnic group in several countries,mainly China, Laos, Thailand and Southeast Asia, believed have come from the Yangtze River basin area around Hunan, China. During the Vietnam war, the CIA secretly used Hmong soilders to fight the North Vietnamese that were invading Laos. The Hmong soilders were very dedicated to helping the US, but suffered large casualties. After the US pulled out, Hmong people were being forced out of their home countries. The US, probably feeling guilty, helped to relocate them and many were placed in Milwaukee. Why, you ask? I have no idea, good question.

The point to that long explanation is that Milwaukee has a high concentration of Asian individuals from all over Southeast Asia. My elementary school happened to be an Asian Immersion school. In a sense, I grew up with Asian culture. Our talent shows consisted of traditional ethnic dances in full costume, and listening to traditional music. I remember eating rice treats steamed in a banana leaf, and playing a cool jump rope game with long cords made from rubber bands. I never knew that my experience was an exceptional one, and thought all schools were that diverse. I was only 5 and didn't know any differently. All of these experiences and opportunities have led to my love of Asia and all things Asian, and it is with this passion I want to share my experiences with you!

(So that's not me, but that is a real outfit of what the girls wore at my school on special occassions)

Join me back here to read all about my adventures traveling throughout Asia these past 6 years and to learn more about a culture you might not know so much about. Feel free to ask questions and I will do my best to answer them, or get opinions from my educated friends throughout the world I have come to know and love.