We visit the Panyaden International School

When one travels in SE Asia, one sees a lot of bamboo — it's literally everywhere. It's used for furniture, fences, walls, flooring, scaffolding, ladders, houses —  and even made into cloth. I've seen pictures of bamboo scaffolding on the Internet that extends many stories above the ground (see Oobject.com for some impressive examples), up to and including skyscrapers. It's also used to support concrete floor forms during all types of construction from the smallest home to the largest buildings. The rural poor often live in houses constructed entirely of bamboo. The school we visited in September, the Panyaden International School, (Wikipedia has more) also uses bamboo extensively but the construction is both unique and beautiful. The main materials fabrication site for the outfit that designed and built the school, Chiangmai Life Construction, is situated on the nearby Canal Road so we visited that as well to learn how they process the bamboo to prevent devastation from Thailand's many wood-eating insects.

Panyaden Meeting Hall

Panyaden Meeting Hall — Interior

Panyaden Meeting Hall — Interior detail

Note use of rope and dowels instead of bolts or nails

Panyaden Meeting Hall — Interior detail

Panyaden School Canteen with bamboo tables & benches

The Panyaden School is a model of sustainable building practices and has won awards because of its innovative use of bamboo and rammed-earth construction. (see this Wikipedia article for more.) Below is a shot of the exterior of a bathroom. Classrooms are done in much the same way. Rammed-earth walls have significant thermal storage capacity which keeps them cool during the daytime — classrooms need not be air-conditioned.

Panyaden is a so-called "international school", which means coursework is presented in both English and Thai each of which is used about 50% of the time; each class has a Thai teacher and fluent English-speaking teacher. It offers education from nursery school to Grade 6. Tuition involves a substantial outlay ranging from 81K baht per term for K-1 and K-2 to about 103K baht for grades 6 and 7. At the current exchange rate of 35 baht per USD that works out to approximately $2300 and $2940 USD per term or $4600 and $5900 USD per year. There is another 10K baht ($285 USD) required per term for a Capital Improvements fee and a one-time admission fee of 40K baht ($1143 USD). This cost is well beyond the reach of many people. Considering that the average Thai worker makes only about 300-400 baht PER DAY it's pretty obvious that only the well-heeled can afford to send their kids to Panyaden.

Curious about the preparation of the bamboo, we visited Chiangmai Life Construction (CLC) to learn how they do it. None of the workers spoke any English but from the empty bags lying about, I determined that the bamboo is insect-proofed by soaking it in a solution of boric acid for up to two weeks. Termites and other insect pests will destroy anything made of wood in short order if it's not treated in any way. Apparently, the acid soak does a pretty good job because CLC claims a life-span of 50 years for their buildings.

Workers removing bamboo slats from acid bath

Rolls of sun-dried bamboo roofing slats

The processing facility is housed in three or four open-air buildings. The workers don't wear much in the way of protective clothing, typical for Thailand, and what becomes of the used boric acid solution is anyone's guess. Thailand is about 40 years behind Europe and North America in terms of environmental awareness. Construction workers wear flip-flops on their feet, I've never seen ear protection of any kind and welders commonly use sunglasses when arc-welding. Thais will block their faces from the sun using hats, umbrellas, ski masks, or whatever they have in their hands at the time, even while driving a motorcycle, yet they arc-weld without eye protection.

The CLC offices and demonstration buildings at the site are made of bamboo and rammed earth and some feature the bird motif we saw earlier at the Panyaden School. CLC makes and sells bamboo furniture similar to what we saw at the school. I was reminded of the many homes built by Frank Lloyd Wright in which everything inside, from lights and draperies to furniture, was of his own unified design.  I was tempted to buy a chair but successfully fought off the urge. Still, the furniture is sturdy and, like everything else we saw, unique and attractive.

CLC office with bird motif roof treatment

Guesthouse

Open-air sala for your backyard?

Whether this sort of construction will ever become widespread is unknown but our visit was interesting and instructive. I do like the look of that chair and may eventually go back to buy it yet.

Bicycling as a cure for the Trump Blues

Bikeride on October 20th — the Ping River near flood stage.

The other day, Thais mourned during the cremation of their beloved King Rama 9. Everything was shuttered, even the nation's thousands of 7-11s. Homer friends in Bangkok complained about the bars being closed and being forced out of hotel rooms because they had been reserved long ago for this occasion. It was a huge national holiday and I must admit, things were so quiet around here it seemed like a holiday for me too. I took off on my bicycle for a lovely 25-mile ride on lanes and highways that were virtually deserted. The area just south of my neighborhood is ideal for bicycling and for the past several weeks I've been riding for exercise and to clear my head. The rural lanes are narrow and lightly traveled but they're all paved, and some are quite scenic, almost idyllic. My rides take me past countless rice paddies, fruit orchards, fish ponds and tiny hamlets. The entire area is in the Ping River valley and that means it's totally flat, a nice bonus for people who hate hills, people like me. Oh, and there's never any wind. The Chiang Mai area is often favored with light breezes but there's seldom enough wind to bother a bicyclist. Unlike Homer Alaska.

The other reason I've been doing more bicycling lately is to escape from Trump and Trumpism. I get on the bike with my Bose earbuds and Motorola phone, put on some good music and I can retreat from my email and news feeds and forget for a few hours the miserable condition our country is in with such a dangerous paranoid running it into the ground. I want to air my feelings about Trump and made a start on two or three posts but quit when I realized, not for the first time, that what I write and how I feel about Trump isn't going to change anyone's mind. History will determine whether this lunatic managed to destroy our government and precious institutions. If we're lucky, his legacy will be one characterized merely by the hate and divisiveness he catalyzes. If we're unlucky, his legacy could include the end of the world as we know it. I hope I live long enough to celebrate the day when Trump again becomes irrelevant.

September was on the warm side with temps in the 90s by late afternoon most days but the weather since the start of October has been quite fine. If I can get out before 8 o'clock the temperature is in the mid-70s which means heat isn't a problem even for someone who sweats when he reads. The rainy season is drawing to a close — winter is starting to make its presence felt and although I love the rain, I love Thailand's winters more.

A cloudy day on a lonely lane

The rainy season means lots of clouds and swollen streams and ponds. The pond in the following photo, caught during a sunny morning, I call Pretty Pond. It's about 9 miles from home. There's a small sala or shelter on its shore that makes a perfect rest stop. During my breaks I pause the music and listen to the sounds of rural Thailand, doves cooing, roosters crowing, and watch the farmer across the pond as he moves his water buffalo from pasture to pasture. I recently noticed there are nets running shore to shore. Whether the nets are for catching fish or divvying the pond into sections, I have no idea but Thailand has a lot of ponds where fish are grown for market. All of rural Thailand is studded with fish ponds. And it has water ponds aplenty besides those — rice is a notoriously thirsty crop and farmers stash water everywhere to use during the 6-month long dry season when there isn't enough rain to keep the rice happy. Anyway, my point is that while there are ponds everywhere, this one is special.

Pretty Pond (N18.67084° E99.02276°)

Pretty Pond shelter — my Trek MTB was a gift from Walt Bovich

Small sala overlooking the Little Ping River

Entrance to Wat Don Kaew

Last season I didn't ride all that much. I was spooked about uncontrolled dogs, which I consider the worst thing about Thailand. Unfortunately, Thais don't neuter their pets. That means some of the dogs I encounter on my rides are territorial, some much more than others, and those constitute a major threat to bicyclists and joggers. I've been feeling more positive about getting back on the bike after equipping myself with an array of defensive tools to fend them off. I carry a stout bamboo pole, a cap pistol, and lately a can of pepper spray. Usually, threatening them with the bamboo stick works but in cases when they persist, I'll point my plastic six-shooter at one and shoot off a cap or two. But now that I have the pepper spray, I feel empowered. Just let one of those snarling bastards get too close and I guarantee he'll never attack another bicyclist again.

Below are a couple of photos from one of my favorite parts of the rides — the peaceful, park-like grounds of the McKean Hospital. When I get here I'm only 20 minutes from home so I sometimes take another rest stop in McKean's big octagon shelter. Originally a leper colony, the hospital grounds offer the casual biker the most beautiful forest scenery in this part of town and I generally set my route to pass through here. It's a little paradise, an oasis of shade. McKean also has an assisted-living facility that's quite affordable compared to anything in the states. One of my friends is considering moving there at some unspecified point in the future.

Tall, stately trees shade the McKean Hospital grounds

Bamboo forest track at McKean Hospital (N18.73979° E98.98621°)

Home sweet home, 180/24 Ban Chang Kham Soi 5
(N18.74817° E99.00248°)

Last stop is our home in Ban Chang Kham. Nut has planted flowering vines out front to provide privacy and shade, which is invaluable in Thailand's tropical climate. At ride's end I'll jump in the shower and then return outdoors to sit in the shade with an iced latte, enjoying the morning air and chatting with Nut as she fusses with her orchids. Life is good.

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Playlist:
On these recent rides, I've been listening to some new music by Agnes Obel, Spoon, and the Hooverphonics along with old standbys Phish, The National, and Arcade Fire.
I've fallen in love with Agnes. She's a Danish composer that I happened upon while listening to Radioparadise.com a few months ago. She writes the music, plays piano and percussion and sings on most tracks. She has three albums to her credit so far.

Motorcycling Tak Province and the Wonderful 105

It's been a while since I posted anything and after a lot of talking to myself finally built up enough motivation to make a beginning, to scratch something out about my winter meanderings in Thailand. After only a few more weeks it'll be another I'm Outta Here™ moment I'll be back in Homer for the summer. I've been very busy adding geographic data to Alaska on Open Street Map and it seems the more I do the more I notice how much there is to do. My mapping addiction has also been helping me avoid thinking too much about the disaster unfolding in the United States where an actual fascist was elected to the presidency. I'm not going to wade into that swamp here. It's enough to mention it in passing and to hope that draining it involves lancing the abscess on the American democracy that is Donald J. Trump.

We've had fine, really excellent, weather since late November and that always gets the motorcycling juices flowing. When I say excellent I'm talking about 65-degree mornings and, afternoon temps in the 80s with cloudless blue skies. That means wearing jackets and gloves at the start of a day's ride and gradually stashing those layers until it's lunch time. Of course, Nut, along with most other Thais, never sheds her outer jacket. She hates getting any sun on her skin and wears long sleeves even on 90 plus degree afternoons. This behavior is inexplicable to my mind because the heat genuinely bothers her. I reckon it's just a Thai thing.

The 1090 on my GPS

Anyway, Nut's daughter Dui's boyfriend Na is a school teacher and they were going to be visiting his family over the New Year holiday so Nut and I decided to meet them at his family home near Mae Sot, in Tak Province, and caravan with them (they drove a car) to the remote little town of Umphang. Aside from hoping to enjoy a pleasant motorcycle ride, the object was to see Thailand's highest waterfall, Namtok Thi Lo Su. The ride to Umphang passes through a lovely and very sparsely populated region that is both mountainous and heavily wooded. The only road to Umphang is, however, a twisty little SOB, full of hills and hairpin turns. Signs in nearby towns proudly advertise that the 1090 has 1226 curves. I found motorcycling 2-up on it nerve-wracking and while I'd love to visit Umphang again that drive isn't something I'm eager to experience again, at least not right away.

We were lucky to find a guesthouse with a vacancy on New Year's weekend and Nut made a reservation sight unseen. It turned out to be a very pleasant accommodation — a series of little bungalows in a beautiful setting on the river. The Umphang Riverside Guesthouse is just outside of town on the Umphang River (N16.01180, E98.85836)

Sunrise at the Umphang Riverside

To get to Thi Lo Su we had to hire a driver and vehicle because ordinary cars and motorcycles are prohibited from entering the Umphang Wildlife Sanctuary where the falls is located. It's just as well because the commute in and out on a miserable dirt road was torturously bumpy, so riddled with ruts and potholes that even the late model Isuzu 4x4 we were riding in couldn't tame them. Despite my rigid hold on the grab-bar my head bounced off the door frame repeatedly, and I had it good. I was riding shotgun while Nut, Chicha, Dui and Na were stuffed into the back seat. It took 2 hours to drive 20 km (12.5 miles) and when it was over it was a relief to get out of the truck and walk again. We paid 1200 baht ($35 USD) for the ride.

We had to drive to Mae Sot after returning from the falls and by the time we finished getting banged up on that blasted dirt road again it was getting on towards 3 pm. I worried about getting stuck driving the 1090 after dark but we made good time and managed to pull into our hotel parking lot just after dinner. We got an early start the next day and took the scenic route back to Mae Sariang, one of my favorite towns, riding the newly repaired route 105. Nut and I rode the 105 a couple of seasons ago and it was a royal mess. Mile after mile of construction and many miles of badly broken pavement after that. But the reconstruction is almost complete and the road was awesome! It turned into one of those classic Thailand motorcycle rides — perfect weather, a nice curvy road with smooth pavement, no traffic and scenery that is as good as any Thailand has to offer. The 105 runs between Mae Sariang on the north and Mae Sot in the south through the lovely Moei River valley. Thailand is on the east side, Myanmar is just across the river which doubles as the international boundary. We liked it so much we returned to Mae Sariang a month later with Homer buddy DC, our friend Daniel, and some new friends, American expats from Chiang Rai, Bruce and Lois. The photos below are from that tour.

Lois, Daniel, Dave, Bruce, Nut, DC
Route 105 - Rit River Bridge (N17.9304, E97.9573)

Thailand 105

Moei River on the 105 (N17.5106, E97.9923)

The refugee camp at Mae La on the 105 (N17.1155, E98.39966)

I'll add a couple of photos from a trip I made to Udon Thani a couple of months ago just to close out the Thailand report for this season. I make the journey to Udon every year to visit with a contingent of Homer friends who hang out there. I discovered several new ideal-for-motorcycling roads, the 1237, the 1083, and the 1026, on the return trip.

View from the 2331 (N16.8926, E101.0994)

View from the 1083 (N18.3694, E100.8316)

I'll be back in Eugene in three weeks and back in Homer on May 17th. I'll also visit my daughter, Carin, in North Carolina. Sister Sandy, brother Dale and nephew Jason will drive down from Buffalo to join us for a family reunion. Also during that visit, Carin and I will join thousands of other people protesting the regressive and vile policies of the SCROTUS, aka Florida Man, in Washingon, DC.

Alaska — Summer of 2016

I'm in Chiang Mai again. It's wonderful to be back here on Soi 10 and reunited with my darling Nut. As soon as I could I jumped on my motorcycle and had a ride around our neighborhood. The smell of food cooking over charcoal fires scented the warm evening air and the welcoming smiles of Thais greeted me wherever I glanced. The weather in the afternoon is hot and muggy and will take some getting used to but evenings and mornings are fine and I'm getting back in the groove with my tennis coaching.

Summit Lake

My summer in Alaska was about as perfect as I could have wanted. The weather, up until August, was sublime. Living in my little RV gives me a joy that is hard to explain. A big part of that feeling is because it reminds me of the years when I first came to Alaska in that old Ford Econoline van. Another is because I like living near or just outside the limits of what most people consider essential — I don't need or want a big house, garage, patio, or a lawn. Hell, of the 33 years I've called Alaska my home, all but ten were without running water or indoor plumbing and they were among the best years of my life. My Winne does have running water, sort of, a kitchen and bathroom, sort of, but it's small and spare yet quite comfy for one person. Although I wouldn't like it in the cold darkness of winter, Alaskan summers are just about perfect for RV living and I made the most of it. This season I converted my too small dinette table to a makeshift desk by moving it to the front of the living space and retrieving my big office chair from storage. With this "desk" doubling as a kitchen table I can work and eat in comfort. On one rainy day when I was temporarily out of commission with a pulled leg muscle I stayed inside for 24 hours and made out quite well.

Several events unfolded over the past four or five months that weren't on my usual agenda. Just before leaving Thailand I had noticed an alarming development in my vision — there was a gray football-shaped area in my right eye accompanied by a blurriness that made reading difficult. I drove to Anchorage almost immediately after my arrival to see a retina specialist. In all, I made three trips up there for treatments. These consisted of injections, directly into the eyeball, of a drug designed to inhibit blood vessel growth in my retina. These extra vessels had leaked aqueous humor, the fluid that fills the eye, into the tissues near my optic nerve creating a sort of bubble which distorted my retina and caused the blurry vision. Why did they proliferate like that? Will it eventually lead to the feared macular degeneration that plagued my mom during her last years? The shots had a salutary effect and my vision has returned to near normal. Still, it's scary stuff.

As an aside, if I had had to make three long trips, five hours each way, in the lower 48 I probably would have been bored to tears. But this is Alaska where the intrepid traveler is constantly rewarded with scenes of unparalleled scenic beauty. On the last trip in mid-August, I drove the Winne and camped near Hope in the same spot where Tuli, Harper and I stayed last summer. It's a great site having a 5-star view with no other campers nearby and, to add frosting to the cake, it's also free.

Views from my Hope Road campsite (N60.92988°, W149.54192°)

Camping on the Resurrection River near Seward

The other issue that had me worried was sort of lack of balance I had been experiencing, most noticeably on the bike trip in Germany. Back in Homer, this began to manifest itself as a feeling of instability while walking, a loss of confidence in my ability to negotiate uneven ground. I literally fell flat on my face when exiting the Winne one evening. What the hell is happening to me?, I wondered. First the eyes, then this — we can all agree that getting old sucks but I suddenly seemed to be falling apart at the seams.

Then, during one of those trips to Anchorage I was talking with my friend Alisa Carrol, who happens to be a physical therapist, and learned from her that one's balance can be trained and tuned like any other physical skill, just as you can train yourself to hit ground strokes or volleys in tennis. I immediately obtained a referral from my doc for some PT sessions at South Peninsula Hospital in Homer. Working with Karen Northrop, a PT specialist there, my balance and stability began to improve almost instantly. She explained that certain muscles get lazy to the point of mild atrophy after a while and don't do the job they must to keep a person steady and upright. The simple exercises she prescribed have, to my amazement, allowed me to regain the balance I thought was lost to the ravages of old age. Now, every day I do my clamshell and calf stretches, my, for lack of a better term, one-leg dangles, my leg extensions, followed by a balancing act on a springy air cushion, all in hopes of delaying those ravages so I can walk confidently again and keep playing the game I love. I must add before leaving this topic that I now have insights about why so many older folks suffer traumatic falls, falls that often lead to death. Like me, their balance has probably been compromised and most of them are unaware of it. As active as I am at age 73 with my tennis program, I found I'll need to do more to stay in reasonable condition  unless I want to become one of those unfortunates.

Being in Homer means seeing old friends, lots of friends, and is a major reason I so enjoy returning to Kachemak Country every summer. The first few weeks are special because everyone I see runs over to trade hugs and greetings. I enjoy warm welcomes from my partners at Alaska Boats & Permits, and start doing day hikes with BFFs Kirk and Jambo.

Hiking with Jambo and Kirk

Party at Doug's — Alaska Boats & Permits hat circle

And then there's tennis. I left Alaskan winters behind so I could play tennis year round. Luckily the currency exchange rate between USD and Thai baht is tipped so much my way because that means tennis coaching in Thailand is relatively cheap. Coach Aoy, my Thai coach, is fantastic and has helped me improve my game significantly. A few years ago I had despaired of ever getting beyond the level I was at and had even, perish the thought, contemplated quitting . But over time and after many hours on the court with Aoy, my serve has become a shot I can count on instead of a liability and my ground strokes much more controlled and accurate. Each one-hour lesson costs about $9 USD so I can afford to have three lessons per week for under $30 USD. In Alaska, I would be laying out nearer to $200 for the same amount of time, and because regular tennis coaching isn't available in Homer, I'd have to be living in Anchorage to boot. Plus, I love playing tennis in Homer on a court that must rank in the world's top ten for scenic beauty with big, beautiful Kachemak Bay in the background and the formidable, glacier-studded Chugach Mountains behind that. It's an awesome venue and my buddies in the Homer Tennis Association are awesome as well. Here I'm flanked by two of them, Will Files and Chuck Widlowski.

Will, me and Chuck - our ages add up to 227 years!

Time to close this post. There are so many mapping chores ahead and I want to get at them. I discovered a new source of aerial imagery for Alaska and now I'm revisiting areas of interest (on the computer, that is) and adding geographic features that were previously obscured because only low quality Bing imagery was available. Let's see, the Matanuska River needs work, the area around Summit Lake, the Snow River Valley near Seward — the list is long. I'd better get going...

All the best from the Land of Smiles.