Did I say I like the city?
Disregard that.

I was in a tuk-tuk on my way back to the university from downtown tonight, and I watched a dog run in front of us. Two lanes over, I watched him get hit by a truck, his head shatter, his leg fly off. There are puppies everywhere in Thailand, and they're real cute. But it's not hard to realize that they're not going to be taken care of. In the villages, they can probably live pretty happy and relatively safe lives. But in the city, they don't stand a chance. And now this image keeps replaying in my mind; it's gonna haunt me all night.

The reason I was downtown is that my roommate works for a radio station, and he's spent the last couple months putting together a concert. So my buddy Mikey came with me to the show at Club Chic. Let me first say that Thai pop music is bad. (There's really no other way to put it.) Oh well, half the show was an advertisement for Chang beer, with which my roommate played a very large part. I am anxious to ask him how he felt about that.

I was downtown again last night as well--Whitney and I stayed at a nice hotel, just to get away and relax. On our way we walked through the giant night market. And if you've never been to the market in a developing country, let me tell you that it's a charming experience. I think you could learn a lot about a country just by visiting the market. But oh, the smells. Rotting pigs feet, bees swarming inside some unnamed pastry, live eels in a giant bin, and turltes too (they're not for pets.) Exhaust, trash everywhere, wastewater everwhere. I almost caught myself saying, "I'll take the Big-C" (practically equivalent to Wal-Mart).

The other night we saw a girl laying flat on the sidewalk with a blanket, head on the curb. Today we passed a man with no legs doubled over himself, but still able to hold a cup out for money. And everyhwere, the dogs.

Finally, when we all traveled back to Bangkok a couple weeks ago, as we pulled into the same hotel we had stayed in during our first three days in Thailand, I was overwhelmed by the feeling of deja vu. But it was twinged with a different perspective. I was struck by the realization that although I'd been here before, two months later I was in an entirely different place. Khao San Road is full of tourists, and of the Thais who serve them. In my first blog entry from Thailand, I believe I described Bangkok using the same words I used about the market above: it has a certain charm. But this time, I could not ignore the impression that the Thais (and soon, our group, too) were unusually hostile and edgy. I also could not avoid the desire to know their stories (and this time, I had the ability to ask).

Like the fruit stand guy, who was from Isaan, the Northeast, where we have been staying.
Like the cab driver, who's been in Bangkok for 10 years, and says he likes it. But admits that his family is still in another province. And who, when asked if he misses them, simply doesn't respond.
Like the kid in Patpong, the sex district, with whom my friend Tabitha spoke with for most of the night. He rarely speaks with his family, but is able to send money home. He misses the sticky rice, the food. At the end of the evening, he has to leave the conversation and get on stage to compete with a couple dozen other kids for the opportunity to have sex with a 70-something foreign man.

It is the homestays, and the emphasis on learning about real life from real people, that makes the difference. I think my friend Eric sums up the idea well (the idea of humanizing the things we study, of making personal connections) in his article for our upcoming newsletter about his trip to the beaches over break:
"Immediately, I envisioned those I knew in Isaan in the place of the people currently renting gear to us tourists."
"I would want to understand how they arrived at their current situation, whether or not they are happy with it, and if there were any other options."
"I think this reflects the power of experience. It is often the case that facts or ideas learned in the classroom are forgotten, but memories of experiences rarely fade away. Experience changes one's perception, the way the world is perceived."

Did I say I like the city?
Disregard that.

I was in a tuk-tuk on my way back to the university from downtown tonight, and I watched a dog run in front of us. Two lanes over, I watched him get hit by a truck, his head shatter, his leg fly off. There are puppies everywhere in Thailand, and they're real cute. But it's not hard to realize that they're not going to be taken care of. In the villages, they can probably live pretty happy and relatively safe lives. But in the city, they don't stand a chance. And now this image keeps replaying in my mind; it's gonna haunt me all night.

The reason I was downtown is that my roommate works for a radio station, and he's spent the last couple months putting together a concert. So my buddy Mikey came with me to the show at Club Chic. Let me first say that Thai pop music is bad. (There's really no other way to put it.) Oh well, half the show was an advertisement for Chang beer, with which my roommate played a very large part. I am anxious to ask him how he felt about that.

I was downtown again last night as well--Whitney and I stayed at a nice hotel, just to get away and relax. On our way we walked through the giant night market. And if you've never been to the market in a developing country, let me tell you that it's a charming experience. I think you could learn a lot about a country just by visiting the market. But oh, the smells. Rotting pigs feet, bees swarming inside some unnamed pastry, live eels in a giant bin, and turltes too (they're not for pets.) Exhaust, trash everywhere, wastewater everwhere. I almost caught myself saying, "I'll take the Big-C" (practically equivalent to Wal-Mart).

The other night we saw a girl laying flat on the sidewalk with a blanket, head on the curb. Today we passed a man with no legs doubled over himself, but still able to hold a cup out for money. And everyhwere, the dogs.

Finally, when we all traveled back to Bangkok a couple weeks ago, as we pulled into the same hotel we had stayed in during our first three days in Thailand, I was overwhelmed by the feeling of deja vu. But it was twinged with a different perspective. I was struck by the realization that although I'd been here before, two months later I was in an entirely different place. Khao San Road is full of tourists, and of the Thais who serve them. In my first blog entry from Thailand, I believe I described Bangkok using the same words I used about the market above: it has a certain charm. But this time, I could not ignore the impression that the Thais (and soon, our group, too) were unusually hostile and edgy. I also could not avoid the desire to know their stories (and this time, I had the ability to ask).

Like the fruit stand guy, who was from Isaan, the Northeast, where we have been staying.
Like the cab driver, who's been in Bangkok for 10 years, and says he likes it. But admits that his family is still in another province. And who, when asked if he misses them, simply doesn't respond.
Like the kid in Patpong, the sex district, with whom my friend Tabitha spoke with for most of the night. He rarely speaks with his family, but is able to send money home. He misses the sticky rice, the food. At the end of the evening, he has to leave the conversation and get on stage to compete with a couple dozen other kids for the opportunity to have sex with a 70-something foreign man.

It is the homestays, and the emphasis on learning about real life from real people, that makes the difference. I think my friend Eric sums up the idea well in his article for our upcoming newsletter about his trip to the beaches over break:
"Immediately, I envisioned those I knew in Isaan in the place of the people currently renting gear to us tourists. "
"I would want to understand how they arrived at their current situation, whether or not they are happy with it, and if there were any other options."
"I think this reflects the power of experience. It is often the case that facts or ideas learned in a classroom are forgotten, but memories of experiences rarely fade away. Experience changes one’s perception, the way the world is perceived."

Did I say I like the city?
Disregard that.

I was in a tuk-tuk on my way back to the university from downtown tonight, and I watched a dog run in front of us. Two lanes over, I watched him get hit by a truck, his head shatter, his leg fly off. There are puppies everywhere in Thailand, and they're real cute. But it's not hard to realize that they're not going to be taken care of. In the villages, they can probably live pretty happy and relatively safe lives. But in the city, they don't stand a chance. And now this image keeps replaying in my mind; it's gonna haunt me all night.

The reason I was downtown is that my roommate works for a radio station, and he's spent the last couple months putting together a concert. So my buddy Mikey came with me to the show at Club Chic. Let me first say that Thai pop music is bad. (There's really no other way to put it.) Oh well, half the show was an advertisement for Chang beer, with which my roommate played a very large part. I am anxious to ask him how he felt about that.

I was downtown again last night as well--Whitney and I stayed at a nice hotel, just to get away and relax. On our way we walked through the giant night market. And if you've never been to the market in a developing country, let me tell you that it's a charming experience. I think you could learn a lot about a country just by visiting the market. But oh, the smells. Rotting pigs feet, bees swarming inside some unnamed pastry, live eels in a giant bin, and turltes too (they're not for pets.) Exhaust, trash everywhere, wastewater everwhere. I almost caught myself saying, "I'll take the Big-C" (practically equivalent to Wal-Mart).

The other night we saw a girl laying flat on the sidewalk with a blanket, head on the curb. Today we passed a man with no legs doubled over himself, but still able to hold a cup out for money. And everyhwere, the dogs.

Finally, when we all traveled back to Bangkok a couple weeks ago, as we pulled into the same hotel we had stayed in during our first three days in Thailand, I was overwhelmed by the feeling of deja vu. But it was twinged with a different perspective. I was struck by the realization that although I'd been here before, two months later I was in an entirely different place. Khao San Road is full of tourists, and of the Thais who serve them. In my first blog entry from Thailand, I believe I described Bangkok using the same words I used about the market above: it has a certain charm. But this time, I could not ignore the impression that the Thais (and soon, our group, too) were unusually hostile and edgy. I also could not avoid the desire to know their stories (and this time, I had the ability to ask).

Like the fruit stand guy, who was from Isaan, the Northeast, where we have been staying.
Like the cab driver, who's been in Bangkok for 10 years, and says he likes it. But admits that his family is still in another province. And who, when asked if he misses them, simply doesn't respond.
Like the kid in Patpong, the sex district, with whom my friend Tabitha spoke with for most of the night. He rarely speaks with his family, but is able to send money home. He misses the sticky rice, the food. At the end of the evening, he has to leave the conversation and get on stage to compete with a couple dozen other kids for the opportunity to have sex with a 70-something foreign man.

It is the homestays, and the emphasis on learning about real life from real people, that makes the difference. I think my friend Eric sums up the idea well in his article for our upcoming newsletter about his trip to the beaches over break:

"Immediately, I envisioned those I knew in Isaan in the place of the people currently renting gear to us tourists. "
"I would want to understand how they arrived at their current situation, whether or not they are happy with it, and if there were any other options."
"I think this reflects the power of experience. It is often the case that facts or ideas learned in a classroom are forgotten, but memories of experiences rarely fade away. Experience changes one’s perception, the way the world is perceived."

Did I say I like the city?
Disregard that.

I was in a tuk-tuk on my way back to the university from downtown tonight, and I watched a dog run out in front of us. Two lanes over, I watched him get hit by a truck, his head shatter, his leg fly off. There are puppies everywhere in Thailand, and they're real cute. But it's not hard to realize that they're not going to be taken care of. In the villages, they can probably live pretty happy and relatively safe lives. But in the city, they don't stand a chance. And now this image keeps replaying in my mind; it's gonna haunt me all night.

The reason I was downtown is that my roommate works for a radio station, and he's spent the last couple months putting together a concert. So my buddy Mikey came with me to the show at Club Chic. Let me first say that Thai pop music is bad. (There's really no other way to put it.) Oh well, half the show was an advertisement for Chang beer anyway, for which my roommate played a very large part. I am anxious to ask him how he felt about that.

I was downtown again last night as well--Whitney and I stayed at a nice hotel, just to get away and relax. On our way we walked through the giant night market. And if you've never been to the market in a developing country, let me tell you that it's a charming experience. I think you could learn a lot about a country just by visiting the market. But oh, the smells. Rotting pigs feet, bees swarming inside some unnamed pastry, live eels in a giant bin, and turltes too (they're not for pets.) Exhaust, trash everywhere, wastewater everwhere. I almost caught myself saying, "I'll take the Big-C" (practically equivalent to Wal-Mart).

The other night we saw a girl laying flat on the sidewalk with a blanket, head on the curb. Today we passed a man with no legs doubled over himself, but still able to hold a cup out for money. And everyhwere, the dogs.

Finally, when we all traveled back to Bangkok a couple weeks ago, as we pulled into the same hotel we had stayed in during our first three days in Thailand, I was overwhelmed by the feeling of deja vu. But it was twinged with a different perspective. I was struck by the realization that although I'd been here before, two months later I was in an entirely different place. Khao San Road is full of tourists, and of the Thais who serve them. In my first blog entry from Thailand, I believe I described Bangkok using the same words I used for the market above: it has a certain charm. But this time, I could not ignore the impression that the Thais (and soon, our group, too) were unusually hostile and edgy. I also could not avoid the desire to know their stories (and this time, I had the ability to ask).

Like the fruit stand guy, who was from Isaan, the Northeast, where we have been staying.
Like the cab driver, who's been in Bangkok for 10 years, and says he likes it. But admits that his family is still in another province. And who, when asked if he misses them, simply doesn't respond.
Like the kid in Patpong, the sex district, with whom my friend Tabitha spoke with for most of the night. He rarely speaks with his family, but he's able to send money home. He misses the sticky rice, the food. At the end of the evening, he has to leave the conversation and get on stage to compete with a couple dozen other kids for the opportunity to have sex with a 70-something foreign man.

It is the homestays, and the emphasis on learning about real life from real people, that makes the difference. I think my friend Eric sums up the idea well in his article for our upcoming newsletter about his trip to the beaches over break:
"Immediately, I envisioned those I knew in Isaan in the place of the people currently renting gear to us tourists. "
"I would want to understand how they arrived at their current situation, whether or not they are happy with it, and if there were any other options."
"I think this reflects the power of experience. It is often the case that facts or ideas learned in a classroom are forgotten, but memories of experiences rarely fade away. Experience changes one’s perception, the way the world is perceived."

Did I say I like the city? Disregard that.

My roommate, who works for a radio station, has spent the last couple months putting together a concert. So tonight, my buddy Mikey and I went downtown to Club Chic to see the show. Now first of all, Thai pop music is bad. (There's really no other way to put it. And I have yet to find evidence that good music exists in Thailand at all. ) Anyway, half the concert was an advertisement for Chang beer (literally--the concert was 5-7, and the ad skits went till six).

So then, on the way home, we were riding in a tuk-tuk, and a dog ran in front of us. Two lanes over, I watched it get hit by a truck. Mikey just heard the sound, which was horrifying enough. But for some reason I watched as its head was shattered and its leg flew off. It's really going to haunt me tonight--I can't get it out of my head.
There are puppies everywhere in Thailand, and they're really cute and fun to play with. But you know that they're going to grow up and not be taken care of. And in the villages, the stray dogs can probably live pretty happily; but in the city, they don't have a chance.

Last night, Whitney and I stayed at a nice hotel downtown, just to get away and relax. On the way, we walked through the giant Khon Kaen night market. Open-air markets have a real charm to them; I think you could learn a lot about a country just by visiting a market like this. But oh, the smells. Rotting pig's feet, eels in a bin, and even turtles; exhaust, trash everywhere, wastewater everywhere. I almost found myself saying, "I'll take the Big-C" (which is practically equivalent with Wal-Mart). And while we were walking, we saw a girl about 3 years old laying with her head on the curb with a blanket. And a guy with no legs doubled over himself, who was still able to hold a cup out for money.

And finally, when we all traveled back to Bangkok a couple weeks ago, and we pulled into the same hotel we had stayed at during our first three days in Thailand, I had felt the most overwhelming sense of deja vu. But it was tinged with a different perspective. I think my first blog entry in Thailand used the same words about Bangkok as above: it has a certain charm. But as I took in the same scene two months later, I was struck with the realization that although I was looking at the same street, I was in an entirely different place than I had been before. Khao San Road is full of tourists, and with the Thai people who are there to serve them. This time around, I felt like all the Thais were noticeably hostile and edgy (so was our group). And this time around, I could not help but want to know their stories. (And this time, we have enough Thai to know how to ask.)

Like the guy at the fruit stand: he's from Isaan, the Northeast, where we've been living.

Like our cab driver: he said he's been in Bangkok for 10 years, and he likes it. But his family is still in another province. And when I asked if he misses them, he just didn't respond.

Like the kid in Patpong, the sex district. My friend Tabitha talked with him for most of the night, and learned about his life in Isaan. He misses his family, but he's able to send money home. He misses his family's food. And at the end of the night, he had to leave the conversation to stand on stage and compete with a couple dozen other kids for the opportunity to have sex with a 70-something-year-old foreign man.

It's the homestays, and the education model that emphasizes learning about real life from real people, that makes the difference in how I feel about Bangkok and its inhabitants. I think my friend Eric from Colorado College sums the idea up well in an article he's writing for our upcoming newsletter about his experience traveling to the beaches over break:
"I envisioned those I knew in Isaan in the place of the people currently renting gear to us tourists."
"I would want to understand how they arrived at their current situation, whether or not they are happy with it, and if there were any other options."
"I think this reflects the power of experience. It is often the case that facts or ideas learned in a classroom are forgotten, but memories of experiences rarely fade away. Experience changes one’s perception, the way the world is perceived."

For the first time this week, I really feel like Khon Kaen is a fun place to be. I've finally had a bit of free time the last couple nights, for the first time since August (seriously). Monday night we watched a movie, and last night the whole group went bowling. Some of us went to dinner downtown before that, since a bunch of restaurants have turned vegetarian for a couple weeks (it's a vegetarian festival!) Bowled a 146 sober, 70 after some Japanese beer, and danced around like a fool all the while.
We're back into action with classes and my internship, but it's really not too stressful. We're working on developing a group vision that will guide all our independent final projects and group publication in November and December. It's a perfect application of the stuff we've studied in PLC, and it's something that 31 people are going to have to buy into, so it's a long but really interesting process of coming together. Also, for my internship, we're starting in on another project funding proposal, this time for the construction of a giant community hall/meeting center/future dorms and classrooms for CIEE Thailand, among other groups. It would be really incredible if we could make something like this happen--something I could come back to Thailand for and point to, and say, "I made that happen." Moreover, I don't feel like this proposal is going to be too stressful, since we don't have to actually DEFINE what the project is going to be so much as just think about who our audience is and how we can pitch it. (We then just need to raise about $60,000.)
There's also one more project idea that the Thai Seeka Association has, in some entirely nebulous form, about sustainable energy. I really wish that I had done this Study Abroad a year ago, in which case I could have almost certainly gotten funding to come back here and carry out a project like this and call it a senior thesis. The program director (Dave) is really pushing hard for me to stay here and keep working for Thai Seeka, and though I know that that can't happen, I still wonder if I could come back over the summer. Or, alternatively, I would think about coming back after college--which would mean I wouldn't do the Peace Corps until after grad school. Dave did the Peace Corps here in Thailand and hasn't left, but he is a big advocate for certain alternatives to the Peace Corps instead. It's an interesting idea.

Sorry these are all the pics I'm gonna get uploaded right now--the internet is pretty iffy. I am finally feeling better (YAY), although I didn't get a wink of sleep last night, so I'm gonna go take a nap soon. We stayed in a community of Asoke Buddhist monks, who are rebel vegetarian monks that got kicked out of the regular monkhood for being socially active.

Now let's play Good Idea, Bad Idea. You remember that from the Animaniacs? Well, here goes:

Good Idea:
Wake up at 4 am to follow a monk on his 4 km walk to town on a gravel road to get alms (food) from the community.
Bad Idea:
Proceed as above, except without shoes. Attempt stepping gingerly on the dirt parts, become frustrated because it is dark, and later give up because it is impossible to step anywhere remotely comfortably. Next, attempt disconnecting yourself from the pain in your own feet via Buddhist meditation. Fail.
Worse Idea:
Proceed as above, but deprive yourself of all sleep beyond 15 minutes the night before. You may choose to do this by sleeping with 5 others on thin bamboo mats in a small, stuffy 90 degree tile room. You could do it by stationing dogs or other creatures that can sound like children being tortured from far away at night. Preferably, though, do this by positioning a mosquito net that keeps at least 3-500 mosquitos IN, such that they may hover in your ears and nostrils and bite all skin exposed for the purpose of exhausting heat. Wake up such that your arm feels deformed and grotesque by mosquito bites.
Oh, and make sure that when you proceed on your walk, you have to pee.

Rounding out the week:

Thursday Afternoon
Left the hotel, met with U.S. Economic Officer James Carouso at the American Embassy. Went to Ajaan Sulak's home for the night (he is the founder of Engaged Buddhism who we talked to before. Did I mention that he's been nominated twice for the Nobel Peace Prize?) There was another class at night about HIV/AIDS, but I sat out b/c I had a headache. Little did I know..........

Friday, 4am
My body temperature = 104

Friday morning
Go to a luxurious private hospital in Bangkok, which was essentially worthless. Sleep in relentless excruciating pain the rest of the afternoon, until...

Friday, 6pm
Mid-semester break. Get on an overnight bus to Krabi, a beach town on the southern peninsula.

Saturday
Go to the hospital again, this time a small, crude operation in Krabi run by Muslims, who were helpful and appeared to know what they were doing. They say I have the flu (GOOD NEWS--I thought I had malaria).
Continue on to Railay Beach, a small tropical island complete with crsytal blue waters, unbelievable climbing, perfect weather, nearby islands and caves to swim to, and of course, monkeys. Resting in the bungalow at night improves the headache from blinding to throbbing.

Sunday
After about 30 hours of bedrest in the last 40 hours, I need to move. I climb one route and do some swimming, and start to feel pretty good. Then I sleep for another 13 hours.

Back to Monday, my fever's down to 100.
I can't wait to upload some pictures of this place; I'm pretty sure it's the most beautiful place that's ever existed.

My crazy week in Bangkok so far:

Mon, Oct 9
Morning
Spoke with controversial Buddhist scholar Ajaan Sulak Sivaraksa. He founded a movement called Engaged Buddhism, which challenges the prevalent notion that Buddhists should be content, in favor of a culture of activism combined with Buddhism. He has been arrested often, and has recently been charged with "lese majeste" (insulting the King--something Thais never ever ever EVER do, much less publicly.) He is an internationally renouned speaker--actually, as soon as he was done speaking with CIEE, he flew to Europe and then to California. His answers to our questions were so full of parables and roundabout answers that they were really hard to follow, but really provide good context and understanding. Enjoyed it vary much.
Afternoon
Spoke with Khun Ankana Nilapaijit, the wife of a "disappeared" (think kidnapped, fate unknown) Muslim human rights lawyer in the South. The government under former PM Thaksin suppressed (not to say it has stopped now) the Muslim populations in the South ("did I do good, Mr. Bush?"). Khun Ankana still works as a human rights activist, which is a powerful step for a female Muslim in a Buddhist country already, and she has actually been speaking with the Attorney General and working with the UN to bring in help. This discussion really brought me back to high school and Amnesty International. Actually, I asked her if she has worked with AI at all, and she replied that there's really not much that international independent organizations can do in a country like Thailand with a centralized and autonomous government/monarchy. The best they can do is to support the families of victims. Khun Ankana has started the Working Group on Justice for Peace, which encourages people to use the justice system which currently doesn't represent them to try to solve their conflicts. She is afraid that if this is not an outlet for poor, uneducated youth (especially the children of those who have already been kidnapped/killed), then they will be vulnerable to exploitation by others, including real terrorist groups. Both Ajaan Sulak and she spoke about the necessity of loving your oppressor as a part of nonviolent activism. It is what makes space for people to speak rationally, unclouded by the threat of being attacked (in this case, often physically) and breaks the cycle of violence. I have such respect for these things.
Evening
Switched gears again, to my internship, to take the funding proposal that we finished the previous night at 11, to Oxfam. Our ideas are really very much in line with what Oxfam is trying to, namely education that enables and encourages youth to live and work inside of their own communities instead of migrating to the cities, and communities organizing around self-sustainable, organic agriculture based on local wisdom. It was really exciting to establish this potentially amazing relationship between our NGO and Oxfam, but they didn't have money for us this time:(

Tuesday, Oct 10
Morning
Spoke with Thailand's first female monk, Ven. Dhammanunda. She renounced everything, from career to family, to join the monkhood, and had to go to Sri Lanka to be ordained b/c Thailand will not yet accept it. And as revolutionary as this woman is, she is so warm and friendly and easy to relate to. She is just a human.
Night
Spoke with a group called SWING (Service Workers IN Group) which acts as a support network for sex workers in Bangkok from things like English language training, computer skills, etc. to free HIV/STI testing and counseling to dinners with families. Most of Bangkok's sex workers come from the coutryside, actually from Isaan where we have been studying. The SWING staff split us into a bunch of groups to take us to the clubs in Pat Pong District. I don't feel much like talking about the things I saw, but if you want to know the details, ask me. Just don't do it in a joking manner. Rarely is someone physically harmed in this occupation, but it is the most violent thing I have ever seen.

Wed Oct 11
Spoke with the Deputy Secretary General of the National Economic and Social Development Board. Thailand is moving beyond economic growth as the primary goal of development, at least in planning. They don't even take money from the World Bank anymore, and are trying to address things like quality of life, strengthening community, establishing good governance, and conserving biodiversity through development policy. Though it's highly questionable whether these ideas are implemented in practice, it is a striking divergence from Western development models that these ideas are even considered in the planning stage.

The Iron Ladies! (Protestors against the Udon Thani potash mine--they jab police officers in the junk with nails attached to flagpoles and then walk over them to get to the Prime Minister...... and I'm pretty sure they're secret ninjas.)

This week, we visited the site of a proposed potash mine in Udon Thani province. Again, we stayed with anti-mine villagers. My home stay was really great--I miss it a lot. My Paw has traveled to Iraq, Saudi Arabia, and Taiwan. And he came back to Udo to grow organic rice and raise six buffaloes. He's a very smart man and very passionate about the mining issue. So were the "Iron Women" who were also part of a large group of activists that call themselves the Conservation Club. Inspiring, to be sure... but so intensely concerned that they refuse to speak with pro-mine villagers. We also spoke with the provincial government and with the mining company itself, Italian-Thai. The whole unit was really interesting for me.

My goal here in Thailand has ultimately been to learn whether globalization and development are predominantly positive or negative forces. I've definitely learned that it isn’t that simple. Sometimes, projects are unequivocal, like the Pak Mun Dam. But often, an objective conclusion isn't so easy.

The spoken goal of development is to help people. The rhetoric underlying that goal is predictable: export more, increase GDP. It was startling to hear pro-mine villagers articulate the perception that if their country does not develop, they will be embarrassed. The pressure of the development ideology reaches so far as to grip many of the most rural developing world farmers.

An assumption behind that ideology is that development always helps people. If someone has to sacrifice, therefore, for the progress of their country and the world, this is acceptable. Another pervasive assumption is that the environment is not a people’s problem. Salinization, for example, is harder to conceptualize than its human effects, like crop failure or drinking water contamination.

The most basic tenet of democracy is information. It is, for a short time, refreshing to learn that all those involved in the debate over the Udon Thani potash mine recognize the importance of accurate information. Unfortunately, each group is irreversibly certain that an exchange of accurate information would result in a consensus that their own opinion is right. The villagers of the Conservation Club in Udon Thani have expressed their clear refusal to talk openly with pro-mine villagers. The Italian-Thai mining company and their friends at the Ministry of Industry have tried to establish open lines of communication—but “the government is not able to perform any information giving” because the Conservation Club overpowers them. “If the consensus reached is that the mine shouldn’t happen,” we asked the MoI, “would that be a satisfactory conclusion?” It is telling to note the preconceived response that “this would be a missed opportunity for development.”

So this mine is going to happen, sometime or another.

It is my perception that the forces that drive development (namely, the quest for profit) will not be stopped by a group of Not-In-My-Backyard dissenters over the long term. If the anti-mine villagers like my Paw were to stop the Italian-Thai Corporation, there would no doubt be another mining company on their heels. And it would likely not be owned by any Thais.

So while I am against the operation of this mine, I would encourage protestors to focus on negotiation if I had the chance again. I believe it is feasible to fight for a permit process that gives villagers' opinions a veritable consequence. I believe it is possible to make a space for an independently conducted EIA that has a bearing on the design of the project. I believe it is acceptable that the company leaves a salt tailing pile on the surface of the mine, so long as management of surface water contamination is truthful and accountable, that violations are properly compensated for, and that all is backfilled in the end. I have to believe that traditional agricultural ways of life and the fulfillment of global economic needs can coexist.

Now if only we consumers could slow the increases in demand for the materials that must come from somewhere, we could maybe reign in the capitalist system. But I'm afraid that people in power have drawn the conclusion that a slowing of economic growth is unacceptable in any case…