recently visited Lake Phayao and Muang Phayao in May. The lake was created by a dam. The city seems a laidback place and unremarkable.
More of interest tome was to sit at sunset and look across my Gfs land to the next village.
I was so surprised at the noises of a village in the mornings but evenings were quiet.
4.30: the hour of the cockcrow. More like a cacophony of cockcrows as every bird in the surrounding houses and throughout the village competed for airtime like rauctious fans at a football match. However my eyes only saw black. I don’t have the ultraviolet sensitivy of our feathered backyard hooligans warning that dawn will soon come.
My eyes open at half light, not long after dawn and the loudspeakers of a Buddhist temple drone into life. That temple is in the next village on the far end of the rice fields that stretch out from where I sleep. The intonations blend into my mental twilight and are not unpleasant.
Now it’s full morning light, the bikes and scooters start putt-putting past the house on early errands. Not so loud voices from the street seep into my consciousness.
A new source of sound starts up.
‘Volunteers wanted for the Lychee festival in town’, comes the call from the village loudspeakers and more trivial matters are then announced and interpreted in brief for me by a voice in the kitchen. So different to morning radio announcers chat and talkback radio.
‘Come on, get up we have to go the market before its gets hot’, a familiar voice from the kitchen chides me on a fully conscious state TIT.