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Up Country.

My girlfriend Nan and I had ridden the little Honda 500 V-Twin the 1,000 odd kilometers from Bangkok to Nakhom Phanom in pouring rain. The humidity was very high and clouds of steam rose from the road and bushes to the side. The road twisted through the rain forest in the mountains overlooking the Mekhong River as we came down into the valley before Nakhom Phanom.

The road was dangerously slippery and unmarked. ; log trucks screamed around corners with their tail-ends sliding out onto our side of the road. We'd become used to the shocking conditions on the roads of Thailand.

Playing dodgems with these guys was not so much fun, but it was not so far to go now. Our wet weather gear had performed well and although our feet and legs were soaked through, the top of our bodies were dry enough on the inside of our japara jackets.

We were visiting Nan's relatives in their village outside of Nakhom Phanom. The village was surrounded with vivid green rice paddies and sat near the edge of the great river itself. As we rolled down the last kilometer of the village's red dirt entry road I breathed a sigh of relief.

The 500 CC engine had barely been enough to carry Nan, I and all our luggage all that distance on wet roads. I knew then that I'd need to upgrade to something much larger if we were to continue these up-country long-weekend trips. Lao was next on our cards, and I didn't fancy doing that run on a 500.

Rounding the last corner the village came into view. It was an excellent place, rustic and original old-country style. The houses all on stilts and built of Thai Teak. Huge balconies overhung the yards of each house, chickens, pigs and water buffalo huddling underneath to get shelter from the rain.

In these up-country houses, the building starts with poles and a large deck then walls and roofs' are added when and where required. Nan's Uncle & Auntie's house, where we had pulled up and where we were to stay tonight, was about 80 ft. by 60 ft.; most of it balcony. The yard was bursting with tropical plants; flowers, vines, creepers, fruit. Auntie Noi was an ardent gardener.

We got off the bike breathing a sigh of relief and were greeted with open arms, open bottles and plates of food. I went for the bottles; they had lao khao (local whisky) in them and I was chilled to the bone from the ride regardless of the 30° C temperature.

We were guided up to the balcony and beyond to one of the rooms where dry clothes had been laid out for us; a pakhoma for me (a wrap around skirt) and a paisan for Nan (same again but for the female). Clean, dry T-shirts topped off the ensemble and Nan and I looked at each other and laughed out loud at our provincial appearance. Feeling dry, warm and comfortably at home we went back out to the balcony.

The rest of the immediate family from the village had gathered there and the requisite plates and bowls of Esan (north-east Thai) food had been laid out along with further bottles of lao khao. Some of the young boys started to sing a village song, tapping out the rhythm on the backs of their tin plates with their spoons. We laid back on our triangular pillows and grass mats, ate, drank and washed away the last 12 hours on the road - we had left at 3 AM and it was now 4 PM. The sun hung low over the river in the near distance, throwing ripples of red and yellow across the wakes of the passing fishing boats, their long-tail propellers churning out a rooster-tail of water behind.

We'd pretty well finished eating when one of the older boys, Tuit, said "hey, why you not come walk now, see something cool, eh?". I looked over at Nan who was nodding approval, "what you reckon?" I asked her. "Sure, let's go walk around a while". We stood, explaining to the gathered hoard that we'd be back in a while for more food and lao khao. I was feeling light headed already from the drinks, but the rain had stopped now and I felt like stretching my legs.

Tuit stood up followed by two other boys and Nan and I trailed behind as he led the way down the stairs and out of the gate to the road. The road was a red river bounded by mud and a haze of buzzing mosquitoes.

We walked off to the side on the embankment above the paddy fields. The sun was hanging low over the mountains in the distance, I could see the thread of the highway we'd ridden in on as it wound around the ridges coming down into the valley below.

Nan talked with the boys as we walked. I hung to the back taking in the local surrounds. Rice paddy flowed out and away from me like a huge green sea, red ribbons of muddy track wound in and out into the distance. Stopping at the fringe of trees along the river about a kilometer away we turned left and headed along the river-bank to a small thatched hut. The air was full of the smell of farming, crops, buffalo shit and rain. Steam drifted up off the road surface, adding that peculiar smell that comes from rain and roads and dirt on a hot say in the tropics. What is that smell anyway? I love that smell.

As we approached the hut, I could see that not too far off across the paddy was the main road we'd come in from. The hut looked out across the river. Tuit and the boys climbed the short ladder and went up into the hut with Nan and I following. Inside were grass mats where we all sat around in a circle. Tuit was carrying a hessian sack from which he produced a large bamboo bong. (A device for smoking of tobacco and/or hemp in which the inhaled smoke is filtered though water)

One of the other boys pulled out a bag of local tobacco and another bag of local hemp flowers. The smell of the hemp flower filled the room as he opened the bag and started to rub the flowers to break them up into a mix of tobacco.

The bubbling sound of the bong was relaxing as I stared out across the river at the opposite banks changing color as the sun set. I could hear a vehicle on the road behind me. In fact, I could hear several vehicles behind me. As I turned to look out the other window at the road, Tuit passed me the bong and held out a burning stick to light it with. As I smoked the bong I watched five mini-buses and about ten motorcycles going past on the road. Police and Army motorcycles. Then I noticed that each of the mini-buses was flying a government flag and had Thai Government crests on their side.

"Shit Nan" I said between sucks on the bong, "Who the fuck is that?". Nan spoke in rapid Esan dialect to the boys then turned to me saying, "That's the Deputy Prime Minister with some Japanese investors". I looked at her in surprise. "They are up here to see if they want to invest in industry around here." Nan said. I sat and stared out the window with the bong in my hand marveling at the weirdness of this situation. Funny thing that, it seemed weird and surreal to me but to Nan it was just another bong out in the hut on the river.

As the procession passed, the last two motorcycles fell back and pulled over just a hundred meters away from us. The riders got off, both of them middle ranking security police armed with automatic weapons and side arms. I looked down at the bong in my hands then across at the boys. Nobody looked concerned, nobody was even looking out the windows, they all stared back up at the mountains watching the sunset.

"What's this Nan, who're those guys?" I asked Nan. "Security Police. Don't know what they do" she replied, "Just sit and be quiet a minute, OK mai?". "OK" I said. I had learnt long ago to trust Nan in situations like this, she had heavy duty street-smarts.

Sure enough the two officers came down the trail leading to the hut, stopping at the door they looked inside. I'd already passed the bong back to Tuit to lessen my obvious guilt. I was just going to plead dumb-ass-farang-innocence! That was my plan.

The two officers came into the hut, stood their Armalite rifles in the corner then took out their side arms and lay them in the corner with the rifles. Sitting on the floor cross legged next to me, the older of the two officers nudged me in the side and said "sawadee khrup" while grinning broadly.

I grinned and nodded back as my heart quietly attempted to leap out of my chest. "Khanom pisek" he said pointing at the mixed hemp and tobacco in a bowl on the floor, "arroy dee khrup! Chai mai?". "Um, chai, arroy dee!" I replied. He had said "the special sweets, they taste very good don't they?", to which I'd replied "Um, yes, taste very good!". "Hmmm" I thought "what the fuck is this shit?".

The younger officer reached for the bong and after filling it passed it to his accomplice. Still grinning broadly he took a deep puff, passed the bong back and then fell back onto the floor giggling loudly. "Oh I needed that!" he said in English. His friend now took the pipe and filled it for himself.

Taking his puff he put the bong back on the floor and said to his friend "Bai lao" or "let's go already". The prone officer grunted in approval and hauled his carcass back onto its haunches then stood up stooping in the low hut. They gathered their weapons and saying "goodbye" and "thank you" they left the hut and staggered back across the paddy trail to their motorcycles.

As I heard the sound of the bikes racing out to catch up with the procession I looked at Nan. "What was that honey?" I asked. "These guys used to live here in this village. They know that this is the smoker's hut". "The what?" I replied. "The smoker's hut" Nan said again, "boys have been using this hut for years to come and drink lao khao and smoke ganja, those guys were really heavy on both lao khao and the smoke for years."

I found myself musing over having just had a bong with the Deputy Prime Ministers northern security escort, then gave up when I began to stumble over the implications.

We all staggered, mimicking our predecessors, over the paddy trail to the main road. Nan had suggested that we walk back along the sealed road to the entrance road for the village. As we made our way down the road I heard the sound of the convoy coming back this way. We stopped by the road and watched as they passed.

The last van stopped and one of the rear windows came down. "Hello" said the Deputy Prime to us all. He turned to his Japanese guests and in English I quite clearly heard him say "See, I told you interest in this area was growing, there see the westerner taking a look around for himself. You had better hurry and decide soon, eh?"

Later Nan and I sat on the balcony in the village late in the evening listening to an old lady singing ancient songs as she washed clothes. "You know" said Nan, "I think you just helped the government get the Japanese investment money they want up here, you see how he pointed you - the farang - out to those Japanese?". "Yes" I replied, "I heard him say some stuff to them like that too, plus we helped with staff morale, didn't we?". "What is 'morale' said Nan. "Getting stoned" I replied.