SOUTHEAST ASIA Luca De Giorgi and Lara Briz
Copyright for the entire content by Luca De Giorgi and Lara Briz. This book’s content may not be reproduced or copied in any form without the written permission of Luca De Giorgi and Lara Briz. All rights reserved. Copyright: © 2016, Luca De Giorgi, Lara Briz. Version: 20151216 Authors: Luca De Giorgi Lara Briz www.thepeanutblog.com lbbldg@gmail.com
To our parents.
SOUTHEAST ASIA Luca De Giorgi and Lara Briz
p9 p17
The Dambatenne Tea Plantation TRAIN TO ELLA p75 p27
SEENIGAMA DEVILAYA
p63 p53
6
FISH MARKETS
Stilt Fishing 26-DEC-2004
p221
butterflIES
p135 Reunification Express p209
p125 The fairytale city of hoi an
the cobra
p105 A BAHNAR CHRISTMAS p167 p181 p195
Aping hunting yantra tattoo cock fighting p73 p85
VIETNAMESE IMPRESSIONS Chau Doc Rice Harvest
p237 KAwah Ijen 7
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YANTRA TATTOO Siem Reap, Cambodia January 28, 2015
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Far out in the dusty hinterland of Siem Reap, in a makeshift bamboo hut, lives Mr. Sa Reun – one of Cambodia’s last yantra tattoo artists. This dwindling traditional form of tattoo saw a resurgence during Cambodia’s savage civil war as it is very much about protection. Now, it is again a disappearing tradition; the new generation prefers tattoo artists from the cities who use modern techniques and new designs. We read about Mr Sa Reun in a blog article and the author puts us in contact with a local guide, Mr. Vin, who organises a trip for us. A few days later, we are in a car with Mr. Vin, 138
speeding west from Siem Reap. On both sides of the national road, rice fields stretch off into the mist, punctuated by palms and bushes. The harvest was weeks ago; the fields are now dry and brown. We leave the main road and enter a maze of red dust tracks; we soon stop at the home of Mr. Vin’s uncle, who will lead us on from here. He takes the wheel and carefully drives the car down the bumpy road and further into the countryside.The houses along the road become simpler and poorer; eventually, after three hours of driving, we stop in a dusty neighbourhood. We are led to a small piece of
land covered with dry grass. We see a simple bamboo hut and a bamboo grove; a few mats are spread out in the shade. Here we are greeted by Sa Reun, his wife, and their son.
Left: Sa Reun waits for us in front of his hut along with his wife and son. A curious neighbour is here, as well. We are fascinated with by the unusual character of Sa Reun. It is difficult for us to guess his age; he is skinny and weathered and his body is scored with lines and tattoos. However, he has a friendly face that makes us feel comfortable right away. We sit and listen to his stories with the help of Mr. Vin, who translates for us. LDG Above: Sa Reun displays his utensils: a long red bamboo stalk with two piercing needles affixed to one end, ink, oil, some yellow thread for tying new needles onto the stick – and his notebook of tattoo templates. LBB.
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Above: Listening to Sa Reun’s stories, we discover that he learned his trade more than thirty years ago – from another tattoo master. At that time, he was a young soldier who had fought for two decades in the Cambodian civil war. He was never wounded, thanks to his tattoos and their protective power. He is so proud of this that we can’t help but smile and agree. LBB.
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Above: Not only Sa Reun’s tattoos, but the whole situation, seems extraordinary to us. Sa Reun’s wife, who sits quietly behind him, wears a thick layer of white makeup that reminds me of a geisha. This surprises me very much, given the extremely poor conditions in which they live. One of the boys from the neighbourhood who has come to watch wears a unique outfit: a big golden medallion hanging around his neck, a golden shining watch, painted nails, and fashionable underwear which comes up above his pants. LBB.
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As with most Cambodians, I find it difficult to guess Sa Reun’s age; despite looking quite worn-out, he can’t be much older than fifty. He takes off his battered military shirt to reveal a wiry torso, covered with tattoos. he shyly smiles at us and bids us to sit down in the shade. I notice that his wife, who sits behind him, wears thick makeup. In light of the desperate conditions they live in, this surprises me very much. I wonder what Mr Vin, our guide, has told them about us; I hope their expectations aren’t too high. Sa Reun starts by showing us his tools, which are extremely primitive. They consist of a long bamboo stick with two needles tied to one end, a bottle of black Thai ink, and a special oil for lessening the pain of being tattooed. The stick is dipped in the ink and repeatedly thrust into the flesh, putting the colour under the skin. Vin translates for us that Sa Reun has been practicing the art of tattoo for thirty years. He learned it from a tattoo master near the Khulean waterfall, where some of the stones used to build Angkor Wat were quarried. During the beginning of the Cambodian Civil War, Sa Reun was a young soldier. He fought with various factions for two decades before joining the forces of Hun Sen, with whom he fought until the end of the war. He tells us he was never wounded and looks down proudly at his tattooed body. He says this is because of the protection of the yantras. Vin adds to the translation that there was probably also a lot of luck involved, and laughs. Sa Reun also tells us about a related art – that of creating auspicious drawings for new houses and other buildings. Similarly to yantra tattooing, these re also tied to Buddhism and serves as protective charms for buildings. These drawings are made on red or orange cloth (the same cloth used to create the monks’ 144
robes) and hung in new houses. Vin translates their powers into English as “magic” and tells us the imposing temples of Angkor could only have been built with this same sacred magic. Sa Reun only makes two kinds of auspicious drawings on cloth; we ask him for one of each. He carefully cuts a rectangular stripe of orange cloth and draws the pattern with slow and meticulous movements. I am surprised that he uses a common Edding marker. I was expecting something less ‘Western’; however, I remind myself that what counts is not the physical drawing, but rather the power infused in it by the artist’s prayers.
Above: Sa Reun tells us he not only makes yantras on skin, but also on the red and orange “monk robe� cloth. These cloth-yantras serve as protective charms for a buildings and feature geometrical patterns similar to those in the tattoos. LDG. Previous page: Sa Reun tells us about his life and work and soon displays what is probably his most treasured possession: a cheap notebook in which he draws all of his designs. It is fascinating. We look through pages and pages of prayers written in abstract or geometrical patterns and see animals like monkeys, tigers, snakes, and birds. Some of the drawings are incredibly beautiful. They mostly feature fantastic creatures and symbolic animals imbued with spirituality and mysticism. They are all annotated in Pali, an old language only used in religious and magical contexts. Sa Reun shows us some of the tattoos on own body that are written in this magical language. LBB
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Above: Sa Reun carefully cuts a rectangular strip of orange cloth; with slow and meticulous movements, he draws a pattern for each of us. There is something bizarre in this scene: he uses a common Edding marker to make an object of such spiritual power. We sit and observe how he draws, silent and solemn, until the pattern is completed. Only then does he lift his head to us and smile. LDG.
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Above: Once the drawing is finished, the consecration ceremony takes place. Sa Reun carefully folds the piece of cloth and conducts the ritual by whispering a prayer to it and rhythmically moving his body. He is totally concentrated on this prayer and is unaware of us until it is finished. Then, he gives us the cloths and advises us to keep them always with us – or hang them in our homes. LBB.
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When Sa Reun finishes drawing, he carefully folds the cloth and raises it to his lips. He chants a prayer and rhythmically moves his body. He is consecrating the drawing and imbuing it with power. While we watch this strange ritual with eagerness, the others are less impressed. His wife chats with a neighbour, Vin checks his phone, and the boy fools around and makes noise. I don’t know what to make of it: are they being rude as my Western perspective leads me to believe? Or, is it really not necessary to show composure at such an occasion? Finally, Sa Reun finishes and proudly presents us with two cloths and two roots of a special grass. He advises us to keep the cloths with us always or hang them in our homes in places of honour. They will act as shields against evils of both natural and supernatural origin. Sa Ruen tells us he has tattooed an uncountable number of people in his life: mainly soldiers, monks, and (recently) some policemen. Nowadays, he practices his art less and less. There is no demand for it anymore. He still makes auspicious drawings for local people when they build new homes, but reverted a long time ago to fishing as his primary source of income. After a few hours in their company, we leave Sa Reun and his family and drive back from this deep Cambodian hinterland into Siem Reap. It was easier to believe in the power of yantra tattooing outside the city. However, here with the legions of eager tourists crawling over the ruins of Angkor, I find it increasingly difficult. Then, I take out the orange piece of cloth and gaze once more at the strange patterns Sa Reun drew on it and put in my wallet – as he had recommended. You never know, after all.
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Above: At the end of our visit, Sa Reun shows us his house. It consists of a simple room set on bamboo poles. Inside, mats are spread on the floor; some cooking utensils are piled in a corner. This is not the poorest house we have seen, but this is the first time I have gotten to know the people living inside. I think of how many interesting life stories the people we meet must have. These stories and experiences go beyond their humble appearances and material possessions. Dreams are not determined by the size of a house; as we have seen, they even fit on a simple stationary sketchbook. LBB.
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THE COBRA Ban Lung, Cambodia February 8, 2015
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After a few days in western Cambodia (where Siem Reap is the focus of all tourist activity) we set off for the much-less-visited East. This part of the country shares a borders with Vietnam; both nations are home to several hill tribes. After our Christmas stay with the Bahnar minority in Vietnam, (where we have learned a lot about these ethnic minorities) we are excited to continue our research. We establish our base-camp in a small town called Ban Lung. As expected, a visit to the traditional villages in the surrounding tribal area is a big “must-do�; the agencies are full of tour offers. We search the Internet and examine 166
various blogs to find someone with deeper experience that what we can expect the get from these agencies. Finally, we find a blog written about an experience with an independent guide called Yok. He is of the Tam Pun minority (one of many ethnic minorities in this province) and has recently become a guide of the Ratnakiri area for all those who are brave enough to sit on the back of his motorbike. We call him; he shows up immediately. After only a few minutes, we are packing our rucksacks and preparing for a three-day of the province.
Left: A traditional tribal house with woven walls of colored wood. LBB. Above: The communal house is the heart of every tribal village. It hosts the major celebrations and all important decisions are discussed and decided here. During the afternoon, when the sun shines the hardest, it is usually occupied by youngsters at play. Located at strategic sites in the villages, these are by far the biggest buildings; they are made of wooden planks and sometimes covered by iron roofs. One night, as we have no other place to stay, we are allowed to hang our hammocks here. LBB.
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Yok takes a sip of Angkor beer and scratches a long scar on his left foot. He tells us he got it from a cobra more than a year ago and is still having nightmares about it. We are sitting in Yok’s bamboo hut outside Ban Lung and planning a cultural excursion for the next days. He is a much-recommended guide of this Ratnakiri area; we have contracted him to show us around the villages of various cultural minorities. Today, he has invited us to lunch at his house to discuss our trip and meet his family. Yok is about thirty-five, but looks much older. He seems to be constantly on guard and his smile doesn’t come easy. He is of the Tam Pun minority, one of the various ethnical minorities in this province. They are animist s and a proud people. Their cultural identity is still very strong; however, it is fading fast due to the 170
construction of a paved road a few years ago. Ethnic Khmers, tourists, and Chinese corporations are invading this once-secluded province and menacing its cultural and natural heritage. Yok tells us of his life. He started out as a driver and a farmer; recently, tour-guiding is his main occupation. A few years ago, he started learning English and got a licence to work as a guide. A tribal member tribe himself, he knows much about their culture and traditions. Though he is educated and in constant contact with tourists and the city Khmers, Yok has retained his animist beliefs. Before taking his first sip of beer, Yok spills some on the ground as an offering and murmurs a prayer. I am slightly surprised at this open display of animism; but, listening to his incredible cobra bite story, I soon realise how
deeply-rooted his beliefs are and how proud he is of his cultural heritage.
Previous page: My strongest memory from this trip is My strongest memory from this trip is the dust. Dust, dust, and more dust. It doesn’t matter how many layers of clothes you put on or how carefully you wrap your camera – after a couple of minutes on the dust tracks, everything is all covered by a thin layer of brown powder. LBB. Left: Yok’s wife is pregnant with their second child. They live in an extremely simple wooden hut in a traditional village near Yeak Laom lake. Yok’s mother-in-law is here to help her daughter with the birth; she cooks us up some lunch before we go on. LDG. Above: The Ratnakiri province is home to several hill tribes, including the Jarai and Krung. They have a rich, animist cultures. Yok tells us about their many rituals and taboos and we also visit a cemetery. LDG.
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Yok was starting on a jungle trek with two customers; half an hour into the jungle, they joined another group. Seven people walked before him and passed safely by the snake without noticing it; however, when he walked by ,the snake reacted and bit his foot. Yok suspects he was attacked because he had angered the spirits. Normally, after he had asked them for customers and gone on a successful guiding expedition, he would sacrifice a chicken. However, after his most-recent trek, he had neglected this; a few days later, he was bitten. When Yok saw he had been bitten by a cobra, he knew he had a very slim chance of survival (it usually takes nine hours for the venom to kill a person). In a matter of minutes, he was immobilised by the venom and couldn’t speak or hear. The others could only put him in a hammock and transported him back to the nearest village. There, the local shaman took him into his house and did what he could to help. Twice during the night, Yok was menaced again. The first time, another poisonous snake was discovered only a few metres from his bed; the second time, a venomous centipede almost bit him in the neck. The next day, his condition having worsened, he was taken to the hospital at Ban Lung. Unfortunately, since he couldn’t talk (and no one else had seen the snake), the doctors didn’t know which anti-venom to use. His death seemed imminent and hope was almost lost. Suddenly, an old friend of his appeared at the hospital. He heard Yok had been bitten and (being especially skilled in healing snake bites) wanted to take him to his home to perform a healing ceremony. The doctors were against this but couldn’t prevent it. Yok’s limp body was squeezed onto a motorbike 172
between his friend and his father and taken away. His friend prayed over him all night and finally said that as soon as two incense sticks had burnt down, Yok would be able to speak again. And so it was –a few minutes later Yok could talk again, and his pain had lessened. He was out of danger but still had a nasty infection on his foot. He spent many months in a hospital in Sihanoukville and is now as good as healed. Yok looks up and takes a last sip of his beer. He smiles. He has only a big scar and occasional dreams to remember him of this dreadful experience. Also, he cannot eat dog anymore; if he does, he will lose the protection from snakes his friend cast upon him the night he was saved.
Above: Yok shows me where he was bitten by the cobra. The scar marks the extent of the infected flesh that had to be cut out. LDG.
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Above: We drive during the days and afternoons. Around 5 pm, Yok looks for places to spend the night, usually at a friend’s house. These are all very modest homes with no facilities whatsoever. To me, this is one of the best parts of the trip. For three days, we sleep in the same way as the locals: on wooden boards or in communal houses. We urinate behind the same bushes used by the villagers and their pigs. One night, we sleep with some of Yok’s friends, deep in the Ratnakiri hinterland. A woman in this family is currently recovering from typhoid fever. She has just returned home after a few days in hospital, but still feels sick and weak. The family seeks help from the village healer and is told to sacrifice a chicken. The person who performs the sacrifice cannot work the day after. Since they all have to work, they ask a neighbour to preform this sacrifice. In the evening, he comes to our shack. Unfortunately, 174
the exact details of this sacrifice remain a mystery; we can only gather that it involves a young chicken, rice, chilli, and wool. The neighbour recites various prayers and touches the foot of every inhabitant of the house with a piece of iron before proceeding to the actual sacrifice. LBB.
Above: The neighbour kills the chicken with a precise blow to the head and holds it over the fire to burn away the feathers. After various prayers and rituals, we are allowed to eat it. A jar of rice wine appears from somewhere and a low earnest talk begins. This goes on long into the night before they fall asleep. LBB.
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BUTTERFLIES Luang Prabang, Laos February 25, 2015
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One of the most interesting and beautiful places I visited in our months of travel was the Kuang Si Butterfly Park near Luang Prabang in Laos. I stumbled across it by pure chance and ended up staying there for three days. Not only are butterflies beautiful creatures, they have also an amazing life-cycle, an incredible set of survival strategies, and curious biological characteristics. The first person I meet at the park is called Jessica; she is volunteering as a guide. She shows me around the big butterfly house that is the heart of the park. It is filled with lush tropical vegetation and crossed by a small stream. Various paths allow visitors to admire the butterflies – who fill the air by the hundreds. While listening to Jessica’s explanations, I realise how incredible the life-cycles of the 180
butterflies and moths are. Most species of butterflies have a specific host-plant on which they lay their eggs. Out of these eggs hatch tiny caterpillars who start feeding on their host-plant and start to grow. During their short life of a few weeks, they are constantly eating or looking for more food. During this time, they can increase their weight up to 10.000 times. When they have satiated their incredible hunger, they wander around and find a suitable pupation site – often under a leaf. There, they transform into a pupa or chrysalis by moulting into a hard form. The chrysalis is sensitive to its environment and awaits a suitable external temperature before initiating the butterfly’s growth. This is the most amazing phase of the life cycle of a butterfly; inside the chrysalis, the caterpillar dissolves itself into a soup of
cells, completely losing its physical form. Out of this liquid grows a completely new being: the butterfly as we know it. As soon as it is completely grown, it hatches; after a few hours, it’s ready to fly.
Previous page: A beautiful specimen of Papilio paris sits on the delimiting net of the butterfly house. LDG. Left: Caterpillars eat constantly to store enough energy to build a chrysalis and metamorphose into a butterfly. LDG. Above: These are two chrysalis of the Common Mormon (Papilio memnon). They are held in position by two silk threads that resemble a young leaf and confound predators. The left one is empty; the right one will shelter the butterfly for a few more days. LDG.
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The owners of the park are Olaf and Ineke, an energetic couple from Holland. This is the first season they have opened the park to the public; I can see the enthusiasm in their eyes and in the great care with which they have arranged and maintained the park. The surrounding forest is largely untouched and protected – a perfect spot for a butterfly park. There is much to research about this unique ecosystem and how the butterflies fit into it.
Olaf and Ineke are trying to find out more about the local butterfly populations – and how to breed them. Right now, only a small percentage of the butterflies in the park have been born there; most are caught in the surrounding forest. Vassily, a Russian biologist, is currently working here to establish a breeding procedure. The female butterflies lay their eggs on very specific host-plants; these are the only plants their caterpillars can eat.
Olaf and Ineke describe a vision that goes well beyond entertaining tourists; they aim to involve the local population as much as possible with the natural world around them. Olaf says this entails informing and educating tourists and locals. They will invest some of their income from the park in school projects – and the publication of their research.
Determining plant species the main problem Ineke and Olaf have to overcome to successfully breed their butterflies. They are currently trying to determine exactly which plants different species need to reproduce. Breeding their own butterflies would allow Olaf and Ineke to be more independent from the forest and start a fair-trade project with local
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farmers to sell butterfly pupae to zoos and butterfly parks around the world.
Left: A Great Mormon (Papilio memnon). LDG. Above: Common Rose (Pachliopta aristolochiae) probing the fern for aliments. LDG.
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I spend a lot of time talking with Vassily, Ineke, and the others. They tell me the most surprising things about butterflies. For example, new research suggests that moths retain memories from their days as caterpillars, even though their bodies were liquefied inside their chrysalises. How can memories survive after a metamorphosis in which the whole body is dissolved and rebuilt? Vassily explains how many butterflies are infected with wolbachia, a bacteria that can cause male butterflies die in their egg stages or convert into females. They tell me of moths like the silkworm that cannot eat or drink, but depend on the nutrients they gathered in their caterpillar stage. I also learn about butterflies that live in symbiosis with ants; the ants tend to the chrysalis in exchange for food. They tell me 184
of many male butterflies that pass minerals and nutrients to females during the mating process as a kind of nuptial gift. I listen for hours, completely absorbed by the fascinating world of butterflies.
Left: Vassily is cataloguing today’s butterfly catch before releasing them into the butterfly house. LDG. Above: One look is usually enough to identify a species; Vassily only rarely needs to consult his catalogue. LDG
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A few days later, I am allowed to follow Piang, their most-trusted butterfly hunter on his daily walk through the forest. He is a good-hearted Lao; although we don’t understand each other at all, we find plenty of reasons to laugh together. He leads me up a narrow hill-path into the forest and to a small river. Here, on the sandy banks, are dozens of butterflies. They are mud-puddleing, a common butterfly strategy for acquiring minerals. Piang has brought a butterfly net with him and deftly catches the creatures. It’s easy to catch the ones on the ground that are drinking from the puddles; he slowly puts the net over them and catches up to ten at a time. To catch some of the most beautiful and lesscommon butterflies, he has to snatch them in mid-flight; he does this admirably by twitching 188
the net around them. Only one or two have small wing injuries – no small feat. I try to catch some as well but give the net back to Piang when I realize how hard it is to do this without hurting them. After only three hours, we head back to the park; Piang has caught more then enough butterflies today. Suzanna explains there are constantly about a thousand butterflies in the butterfly house. Although somewhat sheltered and provided with ample food, their life expectancy isn’t much longer than in the wild. Ants, flies, and parasites are a constant danger. The staff periodically sweeps the butterfly house for spiders and praying mantises, but it’s hard to keep them all out. It’s easy to admire the butterflies while strolling through the garden. Sometimes,
they even land on my arm (attracted by my sweat) and I can take a good look at them. Their colours and patterns are mesmerizing and sparkle in the sun.
Previous page: Piang just catched a Delias pasithoe siamensis. LDG. Left: Piang knows exactly where to look for butterflies. They like river banks where they can easily collect minerals from the wet sand. LDG. Above: A Neptis hylas is attracted to the many butterflies in the storage container. LDG.
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