Fon tok lai lai

The blog’s a bit late this month.  Mostly because I spent a hectic week in the UK, which has thrown my timing but I’ve also been a bit poorly and have struggled for inspiration.  Almost the minute I set foot on home tarmac I developed a cold, having avoided one for the previous 16 months in Laos.   I also managed to develop a nasty infection in my feet and finished the week on strong antibiotics and with a comedy limp.  I’m now well on the mend but added to a dose of jet lag, I’ve been feeling rather groggy.  

Non-waterproof waterproofs

The weather doesn’t really help my general sense of malaise.

My shoes are a bit soggy.  It’s the wet season, so it’s to be expected, although it’s a little disappointing when I try and slip my feet into them, nearly 36 hours after I first got them wet and they’re still damp.  I have a long history of getting my clothes wet in public situations, during rain showers, jumping in puddles, falling in ponds, wading in rivers, paddling in the sea etc and so I often carry spare clothes to change into but I’m really bad at remembering dry shoes; meaning I’m often accompanied by a light squelching.

I’ve just begun the second phase of my rice project and visited Pathumphone district to deliver some fertiliser and discuss the plans for the rest of the season.  The 50km journey started in light drizzle and progressed through various phases of heavy rain through to an outright downpour.  More and more I’m convinced that motorcycling is a fair weather pursuit and only masochists or idiots would consider venturing out in the wet.  Most Lao folk take the sensible decision to shelter at the side of the road during the particularly heavy bursts.  I’m really useless at judging when to push through a shower and when it’s best to stop, so mostly just trust in my Gore-Tex and push on.  My Gore-Tex stopped being waterproof years ago, just after my waterproof trousers gave up, so I generally arrive soaked.

It seems to be a recurring theme of this blog that I have a ridiculous appearance but sadly, as ever, it’s true in the wet.  

The rain has a particularly unpleasant habit of gathering around my crotch, especially when riding into the wind or at higher speeds and given the extra layers of material in the area, this is also the spot which takes the longest to dry.

Not what it looks like!

I think I must be an exceptionally heavy breather because whenever I wear the visor on my motorcycle helmet, it gets fogged up, regardless of the conditions.  To avoid riding completely blind, I lift it a crack but this only means I get a mud splatter beard and moustache. 

So, to paint a picture, I announce my presence by squelching, grinning wildly through a beard of mud, with a huge wet patch around my crotch and a smear of black rubber on my hands from the handlebar grips which are slowly perishing because I keep my bike outside.

More slippery than an ice rink

Apart from looking like a twat (after 28 years, I’m mostly over it), the wet season also brings other disadvantages.  There are fewer opportunities for fieldwork and weekend jaunts become a chore and so increasing amounts of time are spent cooped up in the office or at home.  Laundry takes a lot longer to dry and everything takes on a distinctly musty smell after a couple of weeks of damp conditions.  Probably the most trying aspect of the drenching, is having to avoid slipping over on the smooth concrete outside my house.  It quickly becomes slick with mossy slime and when coupled with a muzzy morning head, many a day has started with a bruised coccyx. 

On the other hand, there are some definite positives.

The temperatures are much more bearable and I can even manage to wear trousers and light sweaters.  I can also drink much more tea and keeping hydrated is less of a problem.  Cool night temperatures make sleeping a lot easier and I like the rhythmic sound of rain on the roof.

One of the even more pleasant side effects of the wet season is that I turn into a de-facto pollinator.  Burrs collect liberally on my legs and get redistributed whither I wander.  I’m a big fan of bees and I quite like the idea of mimicking their habits.  If only I could make honey from regurgitated nectar, my life would be complete and I'd have a useful second income.