Had my boat not sunk I would never have noticed the rocket fire...
...I just re-read my last missive and it has me slightly worried, I can hear my bosses printers and red pens circling certain phrases for the next Career Planning meeting - never mind John's rants on the inaccuracies of modern day reporting the conversation will go something like this...
Boss - "Can you explain why, on the day of the earthquake no less, you admit to standing in a rain soaked field talking to a bottle of whisky in a haze of black powder smoke?"
John - "Well, sir, had my boat not sunk...."
So to nip the thing in the bud I think I ought to explain, first of all I was having a bad day, the elephant camp boat "The Asian Queen" had sunk overnight, taking her brand new engine with her. By the time I got over the hill there was her painter tied to the dock and disappearing into the river (I might treat you to the pictures) so we worked all morning to get her to a point where the new engine was out of the water, working neck deep in the muddy torrent we had to live with explosions ringing in our ears, rocket fire coming from upstream.
Our story doesn't begin with the boat as you might guess. Every year, for reasons I have yet to ascertain (I know of no other village that does this on this day) one of our local villages - Wang Laos - celebrates Visakha Bucha, the anniversary or Lord Buddha's birth, death & enlightenment, by packing tubes with gunpowder, sealing one end, tying the whole thing to a long bamboo and firing them into the sky.
Four years ago, I had been in Thailand four days, when they fired their rockets across into Burma (mine didn't make the river) I wrote home quoting the Scottish philosopher Rab C Nesbit and his sentiment that it was nice to come halfway around the world to find some other happy idiot just as crazy as you are - Rab himself didn't use the phrase happy idiot but this is a family show (no matter affectionate the insult is meant to be) and it is worth noting I was a good deal crazier in those days.
Last year when we set up a tent for guests to view the festival and I pulled a piece of steel the size of my hand and a half from the back-seat of my car (quite a few of these things blow up on the launchpad and only the 'official' pad now has explosion protection, the old style bamboo rockets are often replaced by steel tubes by young guns looking for more punch) the rockets were fired away from the river into some bamboo hillside and here, finally, lies my excuse (perhaps I shouldn't use the word lies at this stage!).
The hillside in question is beautiful elephant grazing territory (364 days a year, when there are no drunkards firing homemade rockets into it) and I have for several months been traipsing from Government Office to Head Man's house trying to discover who can give me permission to graze it.
Indeed, the previous day Amp and I had returned from a meeting in Chiang Rai where we had been told we have to track down the local head men and garner their support before the higher Government will listen to our plea. So (boss), after I had finished risking life and limb trying to save a company asset (the Asian Queen) I decided to garner support by taking part in a local festival (literally) aimed at obtaining the land we want.
The salient people were indeed there but were in no mood to discuss business, I continued to risk life and limb and break one of my own personal rules by accepting (minimal) drinks from fuel drums with filtered covers (despite the filter the whisky still had bits in but it had been brewed by the head man's wife - delicious), I did not fire a rocket this year (they always give me the squib anyway) but they did give me the microphone for a while (until they remembered my Thai is worse than it looks and I have no Shan, the lingua franca in this village).
I did help entertain some guests at the tent (but failed, because I haven't worked it out myself, to fully answer their questions) and it is safe to say a relationship with the local headmen was cemented so, giving them time to recover from their hangovers, when we go and ask them about the land they should remember fondly who we are.
I was working, honest, then the earth trembled and I came home.
Proof:
A blessing, a shrine and a rocket prove this is a serious business (a monk was on hand to bless the rockets)...
...there is a judge (and thus, presumably, a winner) but I could not work out his criteria, still he had a judging tool rigged up to the Government Officials' tent pole.
One of our Anantara staff members (on a day off) and his rocket - apologies that I didn't follow the action but I lost faith in my camera.
In previous years mine have always ended up like this - I don't stay on the launch pad but watch from a great distance unlike...
...this gentleman, whether standing behind and beneath your rocket gains you extra points I am not sure. This was the unofficial launch pad and so his bravery counted for nought anyway.
Someone has obviously been watching science programmes with his non-traditional, new fangled design (though I'm not sure what the winking LED in the top did) - I did leave before he attempted to fly it.
This one was so popular it was not only blessed but accompanied to the launchpad by a marching band...
...the scale of the thing! Where do they get the gunpowder?
Boss - "Can you explain why, on the day of the earthquake no less, you admit to standing in a rain soaked field talking to a bottle of whisky in a haze of black powder smoke?"
John - "Well, sir, had my boat not sunk...."
So to nip the thing in the bud I think I ought to explain, first of all I was having a bad day, the elephant camp boat "The Asian Queen" had sunk overnight, taking her brand new engine with her. By the time I got over the hill there was her painter tied to the dock and disappearing into the river (I might treat you to the pictures) so we worked all morning to get her to a point where the new engine was out of the water, working neck deep in the muddy torrent we had to live with explosions ringing in our ears, rocket fire coming from upstream.
Our story doesn't begin with the boat as you might guess. Every year, for reasons I have yet to ascertain (I know of no other village that does this on this day) one of our local villages - Wang Laos - celebrates Visakha Bucha, the anniversary or Lord Buddha's birth, death & enlightenment, by packing tubes with gunpowder, sealing one end, tying the whole thing to a long bamboo and firing them into the sky.
Four years ago, I had been in Thailand four days, when they fired their rockets across into Burma (mine didn't make the river) I wrote home quoting the Scottish philosopher Rab C Nesbit and his sentiment that it was nice to come halfway around the world to find some other happy idiot just as crazy as you are - Rab himself didn't use the phrase happy idiot but this is a family show (no matter affectionate the insult is meant to be) and it is worth noting I was a good deal crazier in those days.
Last year when we set up a tent for guests to view the festival and I pulled a piece of steel the size of my hand and a half from the back-seat of my car (quite a few of these things blow up on the launchpad and only the 'official' pad now has explosion protection, the old style bamboo rockets are often replaced by steel tubes by young guns looking for more punch) the rockets were fired away from the river into some bamboo hillside and here, finally, lies my excuse (perhaps I shouldn't use the word lies at this stage!).
The hillside in question is beautiful elephant grazing territory (364 days a year, when there are no drunkards firing homemade rockets into it) and I have for several months been traipsing from Government Office to Head Man's house trying to discover who can give me permission to graze it.
Indeed, the previous day Amp and I had returned from a meeting in Chiang Rai where we had been told we have to track down the local head men and garner their support before the higher Government will listen to our plea. So (boss), after I had finished risking life and limb trying to save a company asset (the Asian Queen) I decided to garner support by taking part in a local festival (literally) aimed at obtaining the land we want.
The salient people were indeed there but were in no mood to discuss business, I continued to risk life and limb and break one of my own personal rules by accepting (minimal) drinks from fuel drums with filtered covers (despite the filter the whisky still had bits in but it had been brewed by the head man's wife - delicious), I did not fire a rocket this year (they always give me the squib anyway) but they did give me the microphone for a while (until they remembered my Thai is worse than it looks and I have no Shan, the lingua franca in this village).
I did help entertain some guests at the tent (but failed, because I haven't worked it out myself, to fully answer their questions) and it is safe to say a relationship with the local headmen was cemented so, giving them time to recover from their hangovers, when we go and ask them about the land they should remember fondly who we are.
I was working, honest, then the earth trembled and I came home.
Proof:
A blessing, a shrine and a rocket prove this is a serious business (a monk was on hand to bless the rockets)...
...there is a judge (and thus, presumably, a winner) but I could not work out his criteria, still he had a judging tool rigged up to the Government Officials' tent pole.
One of our Anantara staff members (on a day off) and his rocket - apologies that I didn't follow the action but I lost faith in my camera.
In previous years mine have always ended up like this - I don't stay on the launch pad but watch from a great distance unlike...
...this gentleman, whether standing behind and beneath your rocket gains you extra points I am not sure. This was the unofficial launch pad and so his bravery counted for nought anyway.
Someone has obviously been watching science programmes with his non-traditional, new fangled design (though I'm not sure what the winking LED in the top did) - I did leave before he attempted to fly it.
This one was so popular it was not only blessed but accompanied to the launchpad by a marching band...
...the scale of the thing! Where do they get the gunpowder?
A most interesting outing not only did you manage to sink the boat but were unable to arrange new forage for the small ones. Was this due to the home brew or the gunpowder plot ? Will you have another chance to negotiate? do you need to refloat the boat to travel to the next level of authority or can you be trusted to drive after the booze? you really must be careful now you are about to become a responsible young man!
Great read - looking forward to next episode.
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....as with things in Government everywhere it is a matter of time.
The official in question has not yet returned our phone calls, but it is a long, long game we're playing.
Meanwhile, the Asian Queen does ride again...
...after two hours of work...
...the next day...
...and the day after that, down a raging creek with an improvised paddle. At the time of writing our Anantara mechanics had got the engine running like a song and she's back to normal - with instruction to the mahouts not to forget to bale her out between storms.
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...some videos from the 2009 installment.
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