It’s seven o’clock on a weekday morning. A bus pulls up outside your house and eighteen foreigners with twice as many cameras spread out onto your street, taking pictures of you, your home and your children. How would you react?
Welcoming waves, Kampong Kleang
Now, if it were me, I’d be less than amused by what I would see as a huge invasion of privacy. The people of Kampong Khleang, Cambodia, however, took our morning presence in their community in their strides. The concept of personal space is different in traditional villages, where houses are simple and small, and so much regular daily activity happens outside in public view.
It was raining when the bus stopped so that I and thirteen other keen photographers, with our photographic mentors and tour leaders Karl Grobl, Gavin Gough, Marco Ryan and Matt Brandon, could disembark – with our cameras wrapped in protective plastic and our umbrellas. People smiled and waved from the porches and doorways of their houses of thatch, wood and corrugated iron as we walked up the muddy road – the only road – to meet a boat on Tonlé Sap Lake.
Houses of thatch, wood and corrugated iron cling to the road, hanging over the Tonle Sap River, balanced on bamboo poles.
To do list: pick up the morning shopping - then take the children to school.
There is always time to smile at strangers.
Three sisters gather in their doorway to watch the strangers.
Family Portrait ~ Three Sisters
Older Sister
Khmer Man ~ still wet from his front-yard morning wash
Relaxing on the porch
Across the generations ~ Grandpa and his boy
Man in an army camouflage hat
Children all over the region, even in these remote villages, use universal symbols when they see a camera!
Girls on the front steps
The seamstress starts work early.
Solemn-faced boy
Waiting for the school bell
A young Theravada monk ignores the other "visitors" to the temple grounds.
Boyz in the 'Hood
Serious Girl
Keep still! Street shave. (The round red marks on the barber's forehead and arms are from hot-cupping - a popular remedy for various illnesses.)
The Market: fresh foods ~ muddy- streets
The kids upstairs ~ and there is that "V" sign again!
Mum takes a break from selling melons, while her baby watches me.
This town doesn’t see a lot of tourists. Never the less, the people were completely unselfconscious, smiling and friendly, in our presence. They went about their morning business, engaging with us readily, and most were willing to be photographed.
Some, of course, were completely oblivious to our presence.
Baby in Hammock
I hate having my picture taken. So, I am extremely mindful to make sure I have permission before I take environmental portraits; portraits of people in their natural surroundings. I continue to marvel at how much easier it is to make pictures of people in this part of the world.
In spite of the difficulty of their daily lives, they seem to know how to keep smiling.
Thanks for this and your Tonle Sap post, you’ve captured some amazing images and your stories and insights are “spot on”. Thanks for sharing!
All the best,
KarlReplyCancel
Ursula -October 9, 2011 - 5:02 pm
Thanks for looking in, Karl.
It’s slow work getting through the images I collected on our trip. But, I’ll be ready for another one soon! 😀ReplyCancel
Patrick Gallagher -April 29, 2013 - 6:18 am
Lovely set of people photos, Ursula. Thanks for sharing.ReplyCancel
In Canada, where I grew up, the shift between seasons was slow with subtly changing colours. I always associated red and green with Christmas: the middle of winter, against a backdrop of frozen white.
Red Banksia Leaves ~ Coolum Beach, Queensland
Australia, on the other hand, is the opposite. Reds come out in spring and summer; a white backdrop is more likely to be ocean waves, clouds, white sands or the white-light of a searing-hot day; and even in the tropics, greens are liberally mixed with olives, muted greys and blues.
The dry land and long coastline exposes the continent to severe storms, regular floods and annual bush fires. It is not uncommon for part of the country to be experiencing drought while another region is under rising waters. This year alone, Queensland, in north-eastern Australia, suffered widespread disastrous floods causing deaths and enormous fiscal losses, followed only a month later by a category 5 tropical cyclone, possibly the worst the country has ever seen.
Closer to the equator than most of North America, and surrounded by larger bodies of water, even without inclement weather the country experiences abrupt seasonal changes. One of the things I missed most when I first moved to Australia was the transitional seasons: spring and autumn. In most of the country, the onset of cooler weather is accompanied by rain rather than frost, so leaves are more likely to turn a muddy brown than red and orange before they fall. After the cool of winter, spring growth explodes into an almost instant summer of opulent foliage.
The weather last week in Coolum, Australia, near the coast and just outside the Tropic of Capricorn, was unseasonably cold and wet. But what I noticed most was the prevalence of reds: dashes of red everywhere against the paperbarks, banksia, bottle brush and eucalypts. Definitely not a North American spring!
A lot of new growth is red rather than “spring green”.
Pale rhododendrons with bright red stamens.
Red firecrackers light up their green shrubs.
Deep red spiky Venezuelan Megaskepasma flowers contrast against blue sky and pale green leaves.
Red white and green: Megas flower
New growth in wine red and green.
Splashes of red cabbage trees hiding among the stately paperbarks.
Peeling bark in layers on a paperbark trunk.
The reds, browns and whites of a paperbark trunk.
Touches of red and brown on an arching white paperbark truck.
The dappled green and white bark of a leopard tree (Caesalpinia ferrea)
Tinges of red on a baby paperbark shoot.
Red berries hanging.
Christmas colours: Fresh red grevillea against spiky green leaves.
Grevillea (Proteaceae) flower
Red and pink eucalyptus leaves
Red and yellow wattle on a bush turkey on the move.
Red and green plants flank a female torso outside the Spa at the Hyatt Regency Coolum
Green umbrella ~ Red package ~ Hyatt Regency Coolum
Red-brown banksia
Touches of red and green on the dainty yellow bottlebrush.
A red leaf on a bush growing wild by the golf course.
Red and green ~ after the rain
It might be spring – but it felt a bit like Christmas.
Of course, at the rate this year is going, that will be here soon enough!
It is fascinating that what we see all about us when we stop and consider what we are actually seeing… all those amazing shrubs and trees blend on a daily basis, I love that you focus on the individual nuances rather than the overall blurb, the majesty of colour that makes up the overall vista, that definition is exposed rather than lush clump. Thanks as always for the share.ReplyCancel
gabe -September 16, 2011 - 1:30 am
I know it was hard work but I am glad you got the soundtrack attached. Sounds great.
Lovely post Ursula – are you excited to be going back to Australia?
PS – Stella (the dog) loves the soundtrack – she is hunting around madly for the birds . . .ReplyCancel
Ursula -September 21, 2011 - 3:32 am
Hi Lisa! So glad you stopped by.
At the moment, the move feels more “overwhelming” than “exciting”! It is amazing how much rubbish I have collected in eight years!!
Cheers! 😀ReplyCancel
Even though the ground passes slowly when you are walking, it is amazing how much that ground can change in the course of a day – or from one day to the next – on the Cathar Trail in the French Pyrenees, where tiny villages are connected by quiet country roads and ancient walking tracks. We traversed smooth highways, crumbling country roads and dusty dirt tracks; we clambered over rocks and shale on the ancient mountain passes; we squelched though mud and waded through water beside creeks over-run with spring melts and rains; and we crunched through last season’s oak leaves, laying thick on the paths where they had recently fallen, pushed off their trees by the sprouting spring re-growth.
Every mile was long – but every mile was different.
On day eight of our trek through the Pyrenees, we said farewell to our marionette-making hosts in the charming town of Puivert and set off with bellies full of fresh croissants across town, around the lake and past bucolic pastures, before disappearing into the kind of dark, old-growth forest where you might meet deer, wolves, bears, or even Red-Riding-Hood.
Time for Spring Reflections: The Lake, Puivert, France
Shaggy cattle still wear their winter coats as we leave Puivert Castle in the distance.
Promising a good summer: apple blossoms everywhere.
The forests of Lescale and Picaussel were dark - with wonderful old trees and some strange sights.
Wild violets love the dark, moist forest floor.
Out of one forest and into the next...
Perhaps it is fitting that the name: "dandelion" is from the French, dent-de-lion, or "lion's tooth", because the fields were full of them!
Today they are called pissenlit (pee the bed) by the French: for the plant's diuretic properties, rather than it's colour.
Hunting in rural France shows no sign of decline. The most popular form is on foot, with dogs. These hunting hounds made a huge racket baying and barking as we tried to pass their run near Espezel.
Late afternoon, and an old farmer brings the tractor in from the fields. Roquefeuil.
Every town has a crucifix; this one, the colour of old bandaids, was as depressingly disturbing as the run-down old town it was part of. Roquefeuil, France
Our over-night stop in Belcaire (population of 411 in 2007) was in a hotel in the centre of town. I have vivid memories of steaming my aching limbs in the enormous claw-foot bathtub, then heading to the homey pub downstairs, where we caught up on our computer time and chatted with the “locals” from England and Wales, before a dinner culminating in cantaloup sorbet and lemon tart.
Breakfast the next morning was under the baleful eye of the resident stuffed wild boar, before we headed off again.
I think the stuffed wild boar in the corner envies our breakfast.
Into the Gorge de Frau ~ the Gorge of Fear. We weren't afraid, as I had thought the "Frau" was for a German lady.
While much of France's hunting is free-range, some areas are marked off as private hunting preserves.
This brought to my mind a Jacques Prévert poem from my French class days ... about two snails in black who went to the funeral of an autumn leaf. The Gorge was home to the largest slugs I have ever seen.
The bottom of the gorge winds between soaring cliffs.
Domesticated flowers run wild along the next river bank.
Our last creek for the day...
Montségur finally comes into view behind flowering trees in groomed fields.
We stumbled into Montségur, ready for a two night stay, and looking forward to our evening’s muscat, wine, food and conversation.
Hey, Guava and Patrick!
It’s always a treat to have you along for the walk ~ thanks for joining me! And, no – I didn’t meet Little Red, or her wolf friend… although the rumour is the wolf still lives there… 😉ReplyCancel
Pai is one of those out-of-the-way and hard-to-get-to places that everyone seems to have been to. Situated in a lovely valley and surrounded by hills which are home to natural hot-springs, elephant camps and numerous ethnic groups (“Hill Tribes”), Pai has grown from a sleepy market town to a mecca for budget tourists, with plenty of cheap guesthouses, some newer resorts and spas, at least two yoga retreats, and numerous restaurants – all catering to vegetarians.
Centre of the Universe? Pai, Mile Zero, Mae Hong Son (ปาย 0 แม่ฮ่องสอน)
All the cosy cafés cater to Western and Thai pallets: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year (It's August!).
Spicy! Take-away lunch in plastic bags is a Thai staple. The clashing, coloured table cloth is an added bonus. 🙂
Lanna Ladies Praying ~ Welcome to Wat Luang, Pai
Local clothing store. Pai has been called "The Nimbin of Thailand": an Australian reference to the alternate lifestyle that predominates in and around town.
Lines of Communication? The Burmese-style roof-line of Wat Glang, Pai, and the ubiquitous power and/or phone lines.
I had been wanting to visit for a long time. Six years ago at a travel expo we bought a weekend package at small local resort in Pai. Unfortunately, when we passed through on our way to Mae Hong Son just before we were due to stay, we discovered that our resort was one of the many casualties of the severe flooding and mudslides that year. The Pai river floods every year, but 2005 was especially bad, and a lot of housing and infrastructure was washed away.
Bridge? Apparently, there is a bamboo bridge here half the year. Along with the huts on the other shore, it gets damaged annually and rebuilt when the rainy season finishes.
Last month, we finally made it! Although it is only about 80 kilometres from Chiang Mai, it took our crowded mini-van three and a half hours to negotiate the 762 gut-wrenching switch-back curves along the way. Once again I had organised our accommodation, a new “boutique resort” in the centre of town, at a travel expo. Fortunately it was indeed in the centre of town, and fortunately there is a lot to do and see, because our room was essentially a concrete shoe-box with a prime view of the construction underway next door.
First stop on a day out: Buy a good-luck charm (a Thai one baht coin surrounded by rice, colour-coded for the day of your birth) before visiting Wat Phra That Mae Yen, Pai.
Old, but not out! This elderly Lanna woman is one of the sellers of the rice good-luck charms.
Inside Wat Phra That Mae Yen our guide Tae talks about his faith .
The Burmese-style roofline of Wat Phra That Mae Yen, Pai
Second stop: Take in the greens of spring! A Farmer Inspecting Her Fields
Teak tree in "blossom"
Yellow blossoms on a Khi Lek (Cassia Siamea) tree
Third stop: Boil your eggs for lunch in the hot water, or go for a dip at Tha Pai Hot Springs, Pai
Fourth stop: Cross the Nawarat bridge, renamed the Tha Pai Memorial Bridge to commemorate the history of Japanese occupation in WWII.
Fifth stop: Clamber around, over, into and through the amazing Pai Canyon (Kong Lan) - erosion has worked some natural wonders here!
Once part of the old Shan State drug routes, Pai was originally populated by muslim and buddhist Shan (ethnic Tai) people who migrated from Burma, and Lanna (Tai Yuan) from Chiang Mai. Tourism used to comprise predominantly foreign back-packers and hill-trekkers, but the area was the location for several popular romantic Thai movies in the 2000’s, most recently “Pai in Love” (2009), so many Thai tourists now visit the area to relive their favourite films and to enjoy the “cool” climate.
Stop six: Have coffee and cake overlooking beautiful green hills at "Coffee in Love", one of the many places built to cater to Thai tourists and cash in on the popularity of the Thai film: "Pai in Love".
Stop seven: Have lunch and shop for Chinese trinkets at "Shandicun", or "Yunnan Chinese Village". This "Chinese Village" park with souvenir shops, horse riding and even a replica Great Wall is the brainchild of a local Chinese merchant who wanted to stop the decline in population in his local community. We are looking here through the "Great Wall" to the actual village.
Stop eight: Take a picture of your friend in front of the Mo Paeng Waterfall.
The Pai area, like the rest of Mae Hong Son, is home to numerous ethnic minority groups (“Hill Tribes”), principally Lisaw (Lisu), Lahu and Karen. It is interesting to see people wearing their traditional clothes as they go about their daily lives – although these days, t-shirts, terry-towelling and flannel are often liberally mixed in with more traditional fabrics.
A Lisaw (Lisu) Auntie watches over her nephews as they experiment with the cool Mo Paeng waters.
Last stop: Before heading home to Pai town centre, take a walk through a Lahu village and chat with the residents.
It was a full and varied day, but we were still back in our shoe-box, listening to the hammers next door long before dinner-time. So, we took a walk around town and booked an elephant ride along (and into!) the Pai river for the next morning, followed by a hot-spring bath.
Cheeky, smiling Mahout ~ Thom's Elephant Camp, Pai
Bare-back on an elephant is less comfortable than you would think: unless you are up around the neck, that spine is unavoidable!
Too soon we were squashed onto the afternoon mini-bus for our 762 bends back to Chiang Mai and our evening flight to Bangkok.
fantastic as always, not sure i’d be keen on the flight if riding the elephants spine was more comfortable.LOL… Man aren’t they fabulous creatures?ReplyCancel
Hello Ursula,
I found your blog via a Flickr photo.
A nice review of the town – although it has recently been losing some of the charm as business interests put up more concrete and garishly painted buildings.
I love the place ‘out of season’ and have been bouncing back and forth since 2003 (well, once you ‘marry-in’ that’s almost mandatory).
As for the drive – it is one of the absolute joys for me, providing it isn’t raining like a waterfall 🙂ReplyCancel
“It’s raining and blowing down here and your windows and doors are open! Your power and water have been turned off. I haven’t seen your maid at all this year. Your house is full of geckos and who knows what else!”
So came the phone call last week from our neighbour on Koh Samui. As we had paid the maid in full through to the present, this was more than a little alarming.
My husband and I first visited Koh Samui, tropical island pearl in the Bay of Thailand, ten years ago. We loved it. On a subsequent visit, six years ago, we signed “contracts” with a “licenced real estate agent” to build our retirement “dream home”: a small two-story pre-fabricated challet with a wonderful sunset view over beach flats, on a small block of land within a “resort” complex. If you have ever dealt with a property purchase in a country that doesn’t follow anything resembling British common law, you will understand my use of quotation marks: nothing is as it seems.
The building never quite went to plan. One year came and went, and although the house wasn’t finished, the cupboard doors were already sagging off their hinges. Two years crawled past with little change: we were supposed to move in, but had to pay to stay next door because the water and electricity still didn’t reach the house. Three years on and we were in, but the infrastructure (the roads and pathways, the communal pool) was not; the owner of the complex seemed to have run out of money and/or motivation. The cheap paint on our exterior was already peeling, and our cupboard doors were still hanging.
We are not completely naïve: unlike the many farang who come to Thailand and invest their life savings in a house for a bar girl who has a heart of gold, a sick buffalo, and a noisy extended family, only to end up broke and broken hearted, we made sure that we only spent as much as we could, worst case scenario, stand to lose. Even so, it was a blow when, after four years, we discovered that we still didn’t hold title to the property. It was a further twelve months of emails and phone calls, legal fees, and greased palms before we could celebrate our ‘blue book’: our “legal” proof of ownership. Well, as “legal” as you can be in Thailand, where following the law to the letter is a bit like playing a catch-22 scavenger hunt while blind-folded.
Of course, by this stage, the owner had allowed a two-story building to be built in front of us, obstructing some of our view, and the maid had installed tenants who weren’t paying rent… Not long after we got the tenants out, the geckos moved in and the maid disappeared with all the linen and a bundle of money, and we got that phonecall from our neighbour. My first reaction was: “That’s it! Let’s sell.”
So, this weekend we took an unscheduled weekend trip to Koh Samui, with the intention of putting our little cottage on the market. We spent most of our time shopping for replacement bedding and other missing inventory, talking to tradesmen about electrical, plumbing carpentry and painting needs, and discussing where to get new furniture covers.
We took time out to go snorkelling one glorious afternoon in the warm seas over a nearby reef while hand-feeding countless varieties of colourful tropical fish. We wandered along almost deserted beaches on an uninhabited neighbouring island before sitting in the sun staring at nothing in particular. We motored back to our island through the most vivid of sunsets before overindulging in a ridiculously cheap meal of Thai spices and fresh seafood.
A quiet afternoon: Still waters at Nathon, Koh Samui
The Boat "Dock" ~ Thong Krut, Koh Samui
Tourists on the "Pier" ~ Thong Krut, Koh Samui
Leaving "Port" ~ Thong Krut, Koh Samui
Snorkel Boat Over the Reef ~ Koh Tan
Feeding the Fish ~ Koh Tan
Tourists ~ Koh Tan
Coming into Koh Mudsum
Long-Tail Boats on the Beach ~ Koh Mudsum
Thai Boatman at Rest
The Beach: Koh Mudsum
Mangrove Bush ~ Koh Mudsum Beach
Purple Peas on the Beach ~ Koh Mudsum
Sand Crab ~ Koh Mudsum
Beach ~ Koh Mudsum
Little Ringed Plovers ~ Koh Mudsum
Mangrove Leaves
Sundown ~ Bay of Thailand
Setting Sun ~ Thong Krut Waters
Tanker on the Horizon ~ Fiery Skies ~ Bay of Thailand
Dinner on the "Dock" ~ Thong Krut, Koh Samui
And somehow, as we breakfasted on our balcony, watching the light play on the sand and the distant islands, and as we sat under the awning in the evening rain, listening to the frogs, we fell in love with the place all over again.
So, we’ve organized a new property manager, and we’ll be back again soon.
I suppose we could visit the islands without all the challenges of property ownership, but where’s the fun in that?
Had to know reading through you’d fall in love again and stay LOL
what a lovely piece of paradise…. may you both continue to enjoy for years to come..ReplyCancel
Love the opening shot with the grasses. I read about mining companies that factor “sovereign risk” into their calculations before committing themselves to an investment, perhaps the same applies to real estate? A cautionary tale indeed.ReplyCancel
Ursula -August 26, 2011 - 10:25 am
Hi Kevin and Signe – good to “see” you both!
Thailand, is indeed, risky business. But we love it. 😉ReplyCancel
Damian Senior -November 2, 2011 - 8:24 pm
Hi Ursula, I am a frequent visitor to Thailand and am in the process of setting up a holiday business. I would like to know I could use some of your photos for the website.
[…] in Koh Samui, Thailand, has been orphaned once more. The situation is not as serious as it was 18 months ago, but it is still distressing to try to deal with agents and cleaners and bills when we are a […]ReplyCancel
Patrick Gallagher -March 7, 2013 - 1:22 am
Nice photos, but sad story. The Koh Samuii I see in your photos reminds me of the Koh Samuii I first saw in 1976 and makes me want to go back. Hope you are having better luck with your investment there.ReplyCancel
- Performing the Ganga Aarti from Dasaswamedh Ghat, Varanasi
- Buddha Head from Shwedagon Pagoda, Myanmar
- Harry Clarke Window from Dingle, Ireland
- Novice Monk Shwe Yan Pyay Monastery, Myanmar
Packets of 10 for $AU50.
Or - pick any photo from my Flickr or Wanders blog photos.
In spite of the difficulty of their daily lives, they seem to know how to keep smiling.
The only way to start and end end day – with a smile! 🙂
simple joys, we have a lot to learn
Indeed, Signe! “Chop wood ~ carry water.”
Thanks for this and your Tonle Sap post, you’ve captured some amazing images and your stories and insights are “spot on”. Thanks for sharing!
All the best,
Karl
Thanks for looking in, Karl.
It’s slow work getting through the images I collected on our trip. But, I’ll be ready for another one soon! 😀
Lovely set of people photos, Ursula. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks so much for having a look, Patrick! The people here were very welcoming. 🙂