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The Boat Race

I’m back in Thailand, in Nong Khai, heading for Bangkok on Saturday on the overnight train. Not too much exciting has been going on, just taking it easy between rainstorms. A few weeks back, I went to a boat race north of Vientiane. Here’s what I wrote about it shortly after. (Sorry, no photos. The computer I’m on right now won’t let me upload any to my website. When I get to Bangkok, I’ll try to add some to this post.)

Nai’s small village, Ban Sitthanthai (ban=village), is renowned for the quality of its boat racers, the village having won the national championship the last two years and about half a dozen times in the past 10. The boats they race are sleek dugout canoes, more or less, but are about 30-40 meters long and are paddled by a crew of over 50. (Sorry, I looked for something on the web about them, but couldn’t find anything.)

We traveled over 40 kilometers north of Vientiane to watch a race featuring Sitthanthai racers, including Nai’s brother Ler and his cousin Thui. Though not a national championship race, which is basically the boat racing festival which takes place on the Mekong near Vientiane in October, its trophy was hotly contested for by about a dozen boats. The Sitthanthai crew, because of their reputation, was hired by another village, Ban Ling Xang, to man their boat in the race. (This coming week, they’ve been hired by a Thai boat owner to race his boat in a contest.)

After a one-and-a-half hour motorbike ride, we traveled 10 kilometers on a dirt road to the river, the Nam Neum. There we found an event that was equal parts carnival, street fair, concert and, yes, boat racing. Food vendors were abundant, selling grilled fish, chicken, pork, and beef, various other Lao foods and, of course, roast crickets. You could also buy 7-Up, Pepsi and other sodas or indulge in the national drink, Beer Lao. Lots of carnival style rides and games, like breaking balloons with darts, were available for the kids. Both sides of the river were lined with picnickers watching the races from the banks, while loudspeakers all around blared with music. Further down, at the judges’ stand, the public address announcer for the races competed with the cacaphony elsewhere. This somewhat frenetic sideshow added to the intensity of the races.

It seemed to be a double-elimination type of event–lose twice, and you’re out. One team lost its first 2 races easily, but seemed to be out more for the fun than for the trophy. They also appeared to have indulged quite a bit in their sponsor’s product before the racing even began. Their sponsor? Beer Lao.

The competition started about one o’clock and eventually ended about 5:30. The Sitthanthai guys had very little trouble beating each of their opponents. It was easy to see why, because their paddling was so much more synchronized and powerful than almost any other boat out there. I noticed, too, that the course, about a kilometer in length, was laid out going downstream. Several times I’ve watched the team practice on the Mekong, a 5-minute walk from Nai’s house. (Half the village, it seems, comes out each practice to watch their heroes.) These guys’ most intense workout comes in paddling against the current of the Mekong, so going downstream must have been a lark for them.

After each race, many of the boats would get a tow back upstream to the starting point, but the Sitthanthai crew always went back on their own power, as did some of the other boats. I watched quite a few of the early races and noticed another boat, from Ban Kunh, which was easily knocking off their challengers, always in sync, always going back on their own power. Like the Sitthanthai paddlers, they were also clad in day-glo green shirts. Half way through the competition, I felt that the championship race would be between the two green-shirted teams. It was.

The expectations and apprehensions were high, almost palpable, as the ultimate race began. Most of the spectators seemed to be rooting for the Sitthanthai boat. Because the start line was so far away, we could not immediately see which boat had the advantage. At about the mid point, it became clear that the crews were neck and neck. Further on, the Kunh boat began to take the lead. They started to draw away by about 30 feet, while the paddlers in each boat cranked away in unison. It was like watching two gigantic centipedes, legs working in unison.

The boats now drew near enough to see the sweat pouring down the faces of the crews, taut muscles straining to produce more power to the paddles, determination set in the intense faces and straining bodies. The crowds along the banks of the river were shouting and screaming, urging their favorites on, trying to give them the energy to overcome the Kunh lead. Now was the time for all those evening practices on the Mekong to pay off.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the Sitthanthai boat closed the gap. The crew picked up their pace, always precise and machine-like as one entity, rather than as 50 individual young men pushed to their limits. Another meter was gained, but the finish line was only 100 meters away now. Again, a meter, and another. We could sense that the Sitthanthai crew was going to come through, that strength, stamina, skill and superior training were going to carry the day. 50 meters to go . . . 40 . . . 30 . . . The boats were even! Then a surge carried the Sitthanthai boat in front. The jubilation from the crowd followed the crew across the finish line, the boat a few bare meters in front of the Kunh entry. Victory! We waited expectantly for the judges’ confirmation. It came about 10 seconds later. What a race. The boat’s owners were given the championship trophy to parade around through the crowd, held aloft and touched by all, much like hockey’s Stanley Cup on-ice parade after the finals. Both crews made their way back along the river to the cheers of their admirers. It was a long ride back for us on the motorbike, but we didn’t care.

As a side note, I was told yesterday that the village has hired a legendary Thai trainer to help the team. Perhaps that victory was too close!

(Check back here in a week or so, when I hope to have posted some photos and videos.)

Rain!

Here’s what I wrote about a bit of rain we had a week or so ago:

After returning from Vang Vieng, we’ve had almost nothing but rain. It had been, however, a gentle, soaking rain, good for the farmers, I suppose. It had been gentle, at least for the last day and a half, until last night, that is. Around 4 in the morning, the “gentle” rain, after a few hours’ lull, started up again, softly pattering on the metal roof of Nai’s family’s house. In the distance, flashes of lightning and boomings of thunder punctuated the patter. After a few minutes, the rain began to increase, and the bright, noisy main bulk of the storm drew nearer. What was a steady staccato on the roof suddenly became the noise of a freight train as the downpour increased. Thunder crashed, and lightning lit the night. The sound of the rain on our shelter quickly became that of a jet engine, a deafening roar, and lightning lasered through the dark, while the sound of the thunder was almost lost in the sound of the rain. Then, impossibly, the downpour increased. I was thunderstruck and more than a little fearful, though everyone else seemed to be sleeping soundly through it all. I love watching these displays of nature from safety during the day, but it was pitch black outside, and all I could do was to lie in bed, helpless, waiting for this singularly terrific storm to abate and pass by. Eventually, of course, it did, after about 45 minutes.

My imagination was racing, though. I wondered if I would be able to hear the low growl of the flash flood as it raced toward the Mekong. Would the house, a traditional Lao dwelling raised about 6 feet above ground on concrete stilts, be able to withstand the power of the onrushing water? In the darkness and chaos, would I be able to somehow swim to safety? Eventually, the gentle patter on the roof lulled me to sleep.

I awoke around 9:30 and got up to see what damage the torrent had done to the family farm. Fortunately, only a portion of the green onion plot, the low part of the farm, was under ankle-deep water. Nai and his mother were harvesting the suddenly one-week early crop before it rotted in the water, and other members of the extended family were cleaning the onions, preparing them for sale in the market in Vientiane. The air was permeated with the sweet, pungent odor of green onions, and I wondered what the crop of chili peppers would do to my sinuses at harvest time.

Meanwhile, the rain continues to gently fall–what will the night bring?

Here are members of the family cleaning the onions and bundling them up.

Green_Onion_1

After the harvest, the cleaning and the bundling, everyone sits around enjoying the end of the day.

Onion_Harvest_1

Checking In

I’ve been in the technology wilderness for a number of days, so haven’t been able to post anything. Tomorrow, however, stay tuned for a few interesting stories, one about the weather and the other about one of the most exciting sports events I’ve ever witnessed. I don’t have the time to post them now.

Speaking of sports excitement, looks like the Yanks have been supercharged of late and are steaming full speed ahead towards the Red Sox. (Hi, Karen. Got that *sinking* feeling yet?) :)

Vang Vieng

Laos is looking good, if wet. I’m now in Vang Vieng, my third time here and, despite the rainy afternoons, it’s been a very pleasant day–quiet, peaceful, relaxing. We sat along the banks of the Nam Song river this afternoon, watching tubers and kayakers floating through. Though the river is quite high, many people are making the enjoyable from the put-in point to Vang Vieng. I’m here with Nai and his sister Nui, and two of his friends, Suwon and Noh. We’re heading back to Vientiane tomorrow, and afterwards, who knows where I’ll be? The trip to Singapore is still on and various locations in Thailand are still a go, including Bangkok, Phuket and another island, yet to be determined. I’ll probably hang around Vientiane for another 10 days, before leaving for Thailand.

As I stated, the afternoons are rainy, with heavy downpours about the same time every day, around 2 or 3 in the afternoon (though today was an exception). Along with the normally high humidity, it seems that nothing ever really dries out. When the sun is out, in the morning, that is the time to dehumidify, so to speak. Still, it is not overly hot and not as unpleasant as it might sound.

Vang Vieng is really undergoing some busy construction, with new guesthouses, hotels and restaurants going up ’round the clock, so it seems. It’s a far cry from even a few short years ago when it seemed much more sleepy and laid back. It would be a good place, perhaps, to start a new business. (Ding, ding, ding, as bells go off and alarms ring in my head–bowling alley, American restaurant, laid-back bar???? I’ll have to save up some more money before I think too much along those lines.)

No photos this time around, but I hope to post some more as I go along. Keep tuned. More later.