Monkey time

Me and a basically wild Dusky Langur

It's 2558 here in Thailand, at least according to the Thai (Buddhist) calendar. That's okay with me. I love that different cultures have totally different systems for measuring the passing of time. The Gregorian calendar (as in Pope Gregory XIII) used in 'merica, is not the one and only system. In Nepal this is the 2071st century. The Persian, Kurdish and Afghan calendars all agree that this is 1393. Of course, everyone knows it's the 13th baktun and the Islamic calendar calls this 1436 and leap year so watch you don't go down that rabbit hole.

Me handing a Dusky Langur dude a tasty almond.

Then there's Unix time. Wisely, implementations defining the result of the time() function as type time_t were added which will keep the whole system from going negative on January 19, 2038 (in the Gregorian calendar) thus saving us all from the dreaded doomsday second. Thanks guys. And, no. Don't ask me to explain that.

So, what's my point? Ten Eleven years ago I was waiting out a snow storm and in geological time none of this amounts to the twinkling of an eye so I don't know. Do I need one? Ok. Like the Buddha said, "When you meet a monkey on the road, give 'em a tasty treat".

By any calculation, it's treat time

As for me, we're in Bangkok now, so no Dusky Langurs, I so miss those little guys, but I'll try to be nice too.

Happy 2558 aka 2015 etc.
Bangkok

Dusky Langurs

Dusky Langurs . . .
An afternoon spent with Dusky Langues is an afternoon well spent.
I love these guys. That is all.

Elephant and more elephants

Finally I got to spend time with elephants. I went with a friend a few weeks ago to Elephant Nature Park in northern Thailand. Most of the elephants there have been rescued from heartbreaking situations but now, happily, they'll never be abused again. And the Park is not only a refuge for elephants, but is also home to some 400 dogs and countless cats all co-existing in relative harmony. 

Do not get in the way of an elephant butt rub

Before lunch, we got to bathe an elephant in the river. It's a bit hokey but a harmless way for us to interact with them. Our group bathed a lovely lady named Kathong. She's new to the Park and still healing after stepping on a landmine a year ago. 

Bathing Kathong

She's not the only elephant there recovering from a landmine. Another Park resident was in the hospital for three years, but Kathong's injury is the most recent. She's still shy and keeps to herself but didn't seem to mind munching a basket of fruit as we splashed her with buckets of water. And, of course, her mahout was by her side.

Kathong and her mahout, an amazing fellow.

He is her comfort and protector and hangs out with her in the field

all day, everyday. At night, he returns to his family who live in one of 

the mahout huts at the edge of the forest. You can see them in the background.

I appreciate that the Wikipedia page on mahouts includes a link to Elephant Nature Park. It's a nod in the right direction, The hooks, bludgeons, whips and chains used by traditional mahouts have no place at the Park where everyone is treated with compassion, respect, savvy and buckets of treats.

Elephant Park's newest family.

In the afternoon, after an amazing vegetarian feast, we took a walk with our guide. Along the way, we met this mama and her baby. The calf was an orphan who had come to the park, and been with his new mother, for only two weeks.

Who could object?

Of course, we all stopped and oohed and awed and started clicking away. We didn't think anything about it. After all, we were their well-wishers and delighted to see the new, happy family. But mom had a different take on things.

Mama doing what mamas do

She came around the fence, and her mahout followed her as she followed us, but it wasn't until our guide clued us in that we finally got what was going on.

And stay out!

He quietly warned us not to run but quickly follow him slowly away, and pointed us towards a larger group about to enjoy a tasty dinner. After that, the new mother turned and went back to her calf.

After a day of eating it's dinner time

All in all, being around elephants, for even such a brief time, was not only delightful, it recalibrated my soul and, no, I don't care how corny that sounds.

Bat cave Buddhas and bats

To make the most of our visit to Khao Yai National Park we stayed two nights at Greenleaf Tour's guesthouse. We took a van from Bangkok, arrived in the afternoon and after lunch a small group of us piled into the back of a pick-up truck outfitted with benches and a roof and set out with a guide to see the bats.

Whip snake along the road

We hadn't gone five miles when, unexpectedly, the truck pulled over and our guide jumped out. We scrambled after him into the trees and when we caught up he was gently lifted a long, thin silver snake off a branch. It blows my mind that he actually spotted it from the truck at about 40 mph. but he really did have eyes like a hawk.

Another amazing earthling

But more impressive to me was how carefully he handled every creature he found and showed us along the way, and there were many.


Bat and Buddha cave near Khao Yai National Park

The first cave we visited was a huge underground world. There we had the pleasure of meeting phantasmagorical insects, an enormous cave dwelling serpent and some subterranean Buddhas serenely residing in the perpetual dark beyond the bottom of the stairs.

Bat cave Buddha

Bat cave resident

Another bat cave Buddha

Another bat cave resident

At one point, pure luck, we saw a colony of tiny bats emerge from their tiny cave within the larger cave's wall.

Twilight in the bat cave

I don't know if we disturbed them or happened upon them just as they were leaving for the night's hunt but according to our guide, even for him, it was a rare sighting.

Snacking on pineapple, waiting for twilight

The big event was watching some two million wrinkle lipped bats leave their hillside cave at twilight, and leave they did, like a rushing river. We watched for about an hour as they wound their way out over the fields for the night's hunt. They consume billions of insects a night and a few hawks swoop through their ranks hoping to consume a few of them. When we left, they were still streaming out.



Two million bats leaving their cave at twilight
The sound and rhythm of their wings resembled breathing and, mixed, with the singing of the insects, it was like nothing I've ever heard before yet it was comforting and familiar like the sound of the ocean or the nearness of a beloved.

Yes! An elephant!

Khao Yai National Park.

YES! We did see an elephant in the wild. One. And, after repeated reminders that it not a given, one was one more than any of us thought we'd see. Khao Yai is a huge park and the elephants there roam free.

There are no elephants for people to "pet". There are no elephants for people to ride. The park rangers do put salt blocks and some hay out by the road in hopes of occasionally attracting them into view but, for the most part, they are off on their own in the tall grass and forest deep.

We just got lucky. One of the guys in our group, Paul from Wyoming (the guy in the blue shirt), spotted him from the back of the truck as we were driving. Then we all started shouting at once. I pounded on the roof of the cab. Our guide immediately stopped, threw the truck in reverse, backed up, pulled off the road and parked.

Everyone, including the guide, jumped out, cameras in hand, and ran up the path after him. Of course rule number one is don't harass the wildlife and we were good. In spite of our excitement, we did keep our distance.

It was a lone male returning from the road after enjoying the salt block, ambling slowly along the path through the tall grass heading back to the forest.

We all managed to get a few photos before he strolled up over the hill and out of sight.

Our guide explained that because elephants in the wild can graze all day in the delicious tall grass they are, in general, much fatter than elephants in captivity. This fellow certainly proved his point.

Elephants, maybe

We're leaving in the morning to spend a day and a half at Khao Yai National Park where we might, if we're lucky, see some elephants. I'm not getting my hopes up. The elephants in Khao Yai are wild, not prisoners in some cruel roadside petting zoo. I hate things like that. But, regardless of what we may or may not see, it will also be nice getting out into nature for a bit. Bangkok is a fascinating city but it's also like being rumbled around in the very noisy gut of a gigantic beast.

We'll leave about 9 am. It won't be fun rolling our suitcases to the sky train. The sidewalks are very irregular but we've done it before plus it's only a couple of block to the station and there's an escalator. Then it's two stops to Victory Monument which functions as the hub for vans and buses going all over the country. There's no escalator back to the street we want so, when we get there, we'll have to bump our suitcases down three flights of stairs. That'll suck but, again, we've done it before. We booked a tour with Greenleaf and that's where we get the van. Then it's about a two and a half hour drive from Bangkok to Khao Yai. When we get to the park, we'll drop our bags in our room, have lunch at the guesthouse and then they'll take us out for the afternoon to see what we can see. And we'll be out all day next day. M. Lee, who did this tour a few years ago and didn't see any elephants, assures me it will be a very long, very bumpy day in the back of a pick up truck. Can't wait.

Red pants and tennis shoes

One happy, very fashionable little lady

Saturday and Sunday we went to the Chatuchak Weekend Market. aka the JJ Market. Bangkok is full of big glitzy and and some very high end malls but, among them all, the Chatuchak Market is legendary. It's one of the largest markets of it's kind in the world and the first time or two wandering through, seems infinite. These photos are misleading because the street is still empty. I took them early Sunday morning before people started arriving but every weekend, without fail, thousands attend. Even as we were leaving on Saturday afternoon, throngs of people were still streaming in*.

She and her "mom" are vendors at the market

We spent a lot of time at the market last time we were in Bangkok and it's the first place we headed when we got back. There's good people watching, a vast, eclectic array of goods and great prices. And this is a big plus, the Chamlong Asoke's Buddhist vegetarian outdoor food court is near the market so we always go there for lunch. The population is 97% Buddhist but it's hard finding vegetarian food in Thailand.

JJ Market coconut water man

*Footnote:
In the comments, Mr. Donut posted an interesting detail about the Chatuchak Market. Thanks Mr. D.

"It's more than a hundred thousand visitors per day or something like that, but it feels at times like a million all trying to cram into a closet."

Fiona's story

I found a "note to self" on my desktop tonight. It had one word, Fiona, and a link to the video below. Thank you, past self. Watching it pulled me back from the abyss I fell into today fiddling with the endless details for this upcoming trip. So I'm embedding it here for my future self, because the time will come again, and for anyone else happening by who might like, or need, a sweet story about now.



PS. If you happen to know who did the song, please let me know. It's not only perfect for the video, it's just good.

FiveOWriteO

The term came out of one of those word jazz sessions Kristiana, M. Lee and I were having the other day, at my expense. At the time it was FiveOWriMo. Later I changed it to FiveOWriteO or its colloquial fiveowriteo. Of course, both are based on the now famous NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) which has, over the years, kicked a significant number of people off their duffs to take the plunge, resulting in huge gobs and boatloads of words getting launched during the month of November and some manuscripts actually becoming published works of whatever. Even I managed to assemble 50,000 words one November spurred on by the collective frenzy. Don't ask. The deal with FiveOWriteO is to write for five minutes everyday, one day at a time. Of course, a commitment to write five, f-i-v-e,  5 little minutes a day will only be of interest to individuals suffering from writer's block, which includes me. "Writers write, Owen" . Smirk all you like, writer's block is a drag. So, of course, the important thing about a FiveOWriteO is the word "write" because write is a verb.

And yes, I've been telling myself for years to set a daily time and write. I used to tell myself to write four hours a day. When I failed at that I lowered the time to two hours a day, that became one, then one half-hour, which worked until it didn't.

I've been doing my fiveowriteo for about a month now and have gotten quite attached to this little morning interlude. God, that must sound so pathetic. I am embarrassed to discuss it, even here, but now Roy at Blogorahma has upped the stakes and started occasionally posting his five minutes worth (thanks a lot, Roy). His, of course, are good. Mine are not and they are really short but, these days, I'm grateful to be writing at all so, in the spirit of fun and fair play, I am posting this morning's fiveowriteo.

It's hard to make a beginning without a starting point. I do not have one. I start over and over from the middle of nowhere. Is it some kind of twisted snobbery to forego a beginning? A foundation? An idea? The spiral continues its twist. Over and over, Billy (Collins) starts at his window. It is not his privilege alone, something he himself makes abundantly clear. "The poets are at their windows." And I am at mine only, for now, my window is the screen porch.

I am sitting in my screen porch. It is morning. The black birds are at work on the peanuts and seeds. It is 2:26 PM in Addis Ababa. I have never been to Addis Ababa but have wondered about it since I was a child. I leave the porch and wander the shade of its narrow, winding, packed-sand passageways which open occasionally onto bazaars filled with wares and food of every description. The whole scene is ablaze with color and swelters under makeshift canopies and tents and throbs with a cacophony of voices, braying, cawing, banging and music. People look down on the scene from tiny balconies attached to brightly painted buildings.

And then I am back on Alligator Creek with the dive-bombing black birds who, in the time it took to visit Addis Ababa and return, snatched all the peanuts from under Frida Kahlo the squirrel's memorial pineapple palm tree before the squirrels arrive.

References:
Friday by Roy deGregory
Monday by Billy Collins

C'est la vie

The Visitation.
Frida Kahlo, the Gran Ardilla

It's an established fact that I love squirrels, well all animals, but this post is about squirrels. And, this summer, as previous ones here in Florida, there are several who come every morning for the peanuts I put around Frida Kahlo, the Gran Ardilla's, memorial pineapple palm tree. But this summer, other than Ragnar Halftail, the crew is a bunch of scraggly tailed imbeciles. They're cute but dumb as rocks. And lazy. To begin with, they're being sandbagged by a cluster of enterprising blackbirds. These fellows define the term "early bird". I had to change tactics. Now, instead of scattering peanuts around the tree, I wait till the little dolts get here then I toss nuts to them from the balcony. But there's no guarantee they will notice them, even when accidentally bonked on the head by one. And, if they do notice, chances are the simpletons immediately break into a fierce up, down and around the tree battle over it while the blackbirds dive-bomb from the fronds, scoop up the nuts and take off. And these dunderheads are picky. Sometimes one grabs a nut, smells it, drops it and goes for a piece of corn instead. The birds don't seem too interested in corn so I put plenty of that out. And, if a squirrel does decided to have a peanut, they are just as likely to scamper off and bury it in grass and yes, the smarty pants blackbirds loooove that. So, c'est la vie.

Morning notes

Leo negotiating a mealtime compromise

We think it's hard keeping track of toddlers and getting our kids to finish a meal. Try being the parent of a fledgling. This morning I watched the Mockingbird parents feeding their kids. One of the babies landed on a frond in Frida's palm tree and waited while they rustled him up a little grub then, when he'd had enough, flew off. A minute later one of the parents came back with another squiggly goodie but the baby was gone. Imagine if our toddlers could do that to avoid eating their broccoli.

"Frank, just one more bite then you can go play."

Also, all morning Sonny has been out on the screen porch ranting to his parents about how hot it is in Florida and it's only June, how he had a life in New York, ten years, how he learned all about being responsible during his forties, there, up north. His mom says something and he gets very animated about how he doesn't do anything illegal anymore but his deadbeat friends are cheating him out of a lot of money. I believe him.

Here's the thing. Sonny is a good guy at heart but his friends? I'm sure he's right. A rough lot. It's not his fault. He explains to her how, just recently, he went with some girl to help her rescue her drugged out friend and ended up getting "dragged into the middle of a situation".

"Then some guy walks up and threatens to put a bullet in my head", he says.

Also, he's upset because some strange guy just showed up on his Facebook page.

"I'm gonna erase the damn page. Everybody knows your business. People you don't even know. What's up with that? That's the most turmoil damn thing anybody could have made."

Pops is quiet but Sonny and his mom are deeply into it.

"Don't interrupt your Mother!"

"You're interrupting me."

"Can't I even talk?"

"My voice don't even matter around here, Mom! For years I've been telling you to drink that shit. You've been skinny for the last seven years but you only listen to Pam. You drink that and it's like an extra meal. It's like an extra meal throughout the day, but you only drink it when Pam tells you!"

When the conversation switches to Sonny's difficulty filling out rental contracts...

"It took 35 minutes just to fill out the damn form, then they wanted a credit card so I tore it up!"

...mom interrupts asking Sonny what he wants to eat.

"It all depends on what you want to do, Maw."

"You want pancakes with an egg?"

At this point, Pops mumbles something in a feeble voice and she yells,

"I'm not talking to you!"

Ok. Enough. The screen porch has reached sauna temperatures. BTW, if this sounds a little.... mmmmmm..... snarky..... I don't really mean it to be. First off, I would be the pot calling the kettle black. If you're a regular here you know that, by nature, I'm a total deadbeat. I get Sonny. I am Sonny. And anyway, you know... I don't judge. I just report.

Lucky Pierre and me on the job

Frostie the Snow Goat

Sadly sweet, plucky little Frostie the snow goat died suddenly a couple of days ago of complications from spinal injuries. Nevertheless, the kindness of those who rescued him and his love of life and determination to thrive is a heartwarming story for us all. Farewell, little guy.

Frostie the Snow Goat from Edgar's Mission Farm Sanctuary on Vimeo.

Squirrel with a nut!

Squirrel with a nut!

And now I am off to do my five minutes. That is all.

Roadkill Cafe

A vulture enjoying a tasty lunch at the Roadkill Cafe., 

Taken from my car window, this fellow did not even consider moving when I stopped to photograph her. And why should she? Who better to the task of cleaning up the dead?

posted from Bloggeroid

Squirrel Appreciation Day Eve

Hey! Buddy!

Tomorrow is Squirrel Appreciation Day! When you're at the grocery store tonight, pick up some special goodies will ya? Peanut butter sandwiches are great but, you know, so everyday. Come on. Sky's the limit. Go for it. Feed me.

Dog vs. saxaphone

We were walking on Kalayana Maitri Rd. in Bangkok the other day when we heard wonderful music coming from a small shop selling eye glass frames. Turns out a very jolly fellow was playing a very excellent bamboo saxophone for his perhaps not so appreciative dog or was she singing along?



Thai guy playing bamboo sax for his dog from ashabot on Vimeo.

We're at the Bangkok airport waiting for a flight to Seim Reap to visit the Buddha. At this point, it doesn't look like there are many fellow passengers on this flight which is a bit disturbing. Cambodia Angkor Air is known to cancel flights that aren't full enough.

"Woo-hoo! Let's go!"

But turns out we're in luck. Enough people showed up so we're on our way.

Mockingbird Arias for Autumn

It's a warm, sunny morning here on Alligator Creek and just this moment a mockingbird, perched on a frond in Frida Kahlo's pineapple palm, is singing her wild heart out. She's doing it all, from "Pretty Bird" to never-to-be-written Arias, one replacing the other with equal speed. Today is the Autumn Equinox, that brief moment when light and dark are equal. Now the days grow shorter and the night long.

Snoring bird

A bird is snoring somewhere out along Alligator Creek tonight. It's a soft chittering sound. Maybe birds don't snore. I don't know. I don't care. In my mind's eye I see a bird napping in the mangroves, head resting on its chest, beak nestled in its feathers, snoring away under the remnant of this year's Harvest Moon. Even two nights later, it was about the biggest, orangest moonrise I've ever seen. I wonder if birds dream about the moon.

The Scarecrow

There's something interesting going on with Chipotle. They are blending business and bio-ethics. Not a first but a good video. If you haven't seen it yet, check it out.

Life at the beach

Holy cow! I'm so in the rears with this thing. Life is streaming by. Something must be said of the days past. They were good. We walked on the beach early the other morning and came upon the Turtle Patrol checking on a loggerhead nest. In this particular nest most of the babies had already hatched but this morning three were struggling to the surface.

The sun was fully risen. The birds were out. A very dangerous time. Thea, Kristiana and I joined a small group of beach goers helping the volunteers protect the hatch-lings on their long journey to the nearby sea. Two of the babies were still a bit misshapen from their time in the egg. One had a lagging flipper, the other a slight hourglass shape to its shell. We, the human shield, guarded them as they struggled over clumps of sea grass left by the night's high tide. They labored up, down and across valleys of footprints in the sand. The first one sprinted across the wet shore and disappeared under the waves accompanied by cheers and camera flashes. The seagulls were far down the beach but, as just to be safe, one of the men in our group followed it into the water to ward off any possible death from above. It didn't matter. Baby One swam out and, as if from a secret fold in the universe, seagulls appeared and snatched it up and away in spite of our mad waving and shouting.

Just then Baby Two reached the sea and swam out into the waves. This time we were ready and determined to ward off the ravenous gulls. We waved and shouted at the sky. The guy in the water jumped and splashed. Baby Two was snatched up anyway. An aerial battle ensued, seagull on seagull, dive bombing, screeching, dipping, twisting. Baby Two dropped back into the water to more cheers and sudden hopes. It didn't matter. A seagull swooped down and claimed our darling and the battle resumed, rolling down the beach like a storm.

Baby Three continued its perilous journey toward the waves. Generally loggerhead hatchlings emerge from their nests in the sand at night when it's cool and the birds are asleep so, at this point, the Turtle Patrol intervened. They scooped it up into protective custody with a promise to all they'd return in the dark and release it to its fate in the sea.