ISAN, the Thailand of Old

by Irene Butler

Donning our "leech-socks" (cotton gaiters that are a must during the rainy season) I set off with my husband Rick and our guide Yui (U-ey) on a trek through the tangle of jungle. The fresh scent of foliage was intoxicating. Rubber trees bore jagged claw marks from the large cats that sleep in their lofty branches. Monkeys swung from vines and strange insects hovered.

We came across elephant licks; patches of red soil sensed by these pachyderms to be rich in minerals. Ginger plants ripped out by their roots and fresh dung near a watering hole was evidence of a recent visit by one or more of the 250 wild elephants that tramp 2,168 sq kms of Khao Yai National Park.

This national park is the gateway province of Isan (EE-san); the colossal region composed of 19 provinces in the northeast of Thailand. The least influenced by tourism, villagers live as they have for centuries; the slow steady pace is steeped in tradition. Even those who have had to find work in the cities are still tied in spirit to their village roots.

On our five day tour with Yui we explored the five most southerly provinces. Being modern day explorers, our conveyance was a comfortable air-conditioned bus.

The landscape beyond the park morphed into the bright lime of rice paddies stretching to the horizon. Tethered water buffalo idly grazed on patches of grass waiting for the next plowing season.

The massive stark white Buddha of Wat Theppithak is first seen from the highway, seemingly floating on the hillside forest. For a closer look at this 150 ft .high- 90 ft wide plaster figure, we pulled into the rural-flavoured main viewing area where chickens ran amuck between the gift shops.

After an overnight stay in Nakhon Ratchasima city (Khorat to locals), it was to Jungle House, a small village that sustains itself by offering elephant rides to visitors for a small fee. The well-cared for elephants are considered members of the family. Buckled into a chair with my new friend Chinda and with Mahout "Mam" perched on Powpam's neck, we descended a slippery mud slope to the river. I was taken-aback when Mam swung herself onto the embankment, and then motioned for me to move onto Powpam's neck. Powpam, like a teen taking advantage of a substitute teacher, began to lag behind the other elephants and gleefully sprayed water about and nibbled overhanging leaves.

In Buri Ram Province our highlight was Phanom Rung Historical Park. A restored pink sandstone and laterite Khmer temple crowns the summit of a 200-metre-high spent volcano.The long promenade that leads up to the lengthy stairway is flanked on either side by naga (5 headed mythical serpents).Erected during the Khmer rule in this area between the 11th and 13th century, and dedicated to the Hindu destroyer god Shiva, this temple displays their architecture and art in the carved lintels, pillars and decorative friezes.

The city of Surin was our next sojourn. Yui said of all the country's night markets, Surin's is not one to be missed. We were pulled by peddle-rickshaws to a foot-ball-sized field. Food vendors sat under light bulbs strung on poles selling peculiar fare. To us westerners and other Thais nothing stands out in Isan cuisine as crunchy insect snacks with chili sauce coating. I could not resist a "sampling" photo to shock the folks back home - the only taste being the potent spices.

Quiet Surin explodes with visitors each November for the Elephants Roundup, when hundreds of elephants and their mahouts take part in battle re-enactment, games, and parades.

The nearby Ban Tha Sawang village weaves silk so fine it is fit for a king... King Rama IX this is, and the present-day royal family. From the baskets of worms munching mulberry leaves, we followed the process to plump yellow cocoons bubbling in a pot of boiling water under a women's watchful eye. As each pod burst she adeptly caught hold of a thread and wound an unbelievable 200m from each pod around a hand-cranked reel.

Vats of indigo dye were being processed that day; on another day it might be red from insect nests, or green from tree bark. A large loom clacked away as four women worked simultaneously to weave the silk threads into intricate designs at a rate of 5 to 7 cm a day, selling for up to 70,000 Bhat-per-metre (approx $2,300 Can). Nearby, roadside vendors sell more affordable factory made silk scarves, purses, and shawls, easily activating my shopper-mode.

It was then on to Ubon Ratchathani, the easternmost province of Isan, bound by the Mun River to the north, the Mekong and Laos PDR to the east, and Cambodia to the south.

Our hotel was perched on the banks of the Mekong. It was surreal to throw open my balcony doors to the roar of this brown river churning not ten feet away, and to gaze across its breadth to the spiraling smoke and lights of a Laos village on the other side.

At a nearby point, known as Maenam Song Si (Bi-coloured River), we witnessed the phenomenal spectacle of the muddy Mekong meeting the sparkling blue-green waters of the Mun.

Pha Taem National Park was next with its huge mushroom-shaped stone pillars carved by nature over the millennia. Other paths crest a mountain side where two steep cliff faces are covered with prehistoric rock paintings dating back 3,000-4,000 years. I was most intrigued by human forms with tall flat heads and by hand prints on the underside of a rock shelf, positioned as if they were holding up the mighty cliff above.

As we flew back to Bangkok my mind swirled with the montage of spectacular scenery, marvels of nature, ancient ruins and village customs. Yui did well in showing us the many aspects of Isan culture where the past and present meld in every day life and the hospitality of the people left an indelible imprint on our souls.