Shu Mai

Ubon Ratchathani, Thailand – Jumping back again to my trip in Ubon…

Day trips on a motorbike can be journeys in themselves.   By the time you arrive home, the morning, almost hard to recall at this time, seems like it was ages ago.  My first full day in Ubon, I found myself first in an orchard of dragon fruit trees, where I got to see their blooms, the centers were a bouquet of yellow beads nestled against the inner skirt of long creamy-white petals, which tumbled from a crown of spiky petals, yellow with a reddish tinge at the edges.

An hour or so later, I found myself passing stands and stands selling salapao, the steamed Chinese buns, and shu mai out of wide metal steamer baskets around Phibun.  I hemmed and hawed, unsure of which would be the best stand to patronize, finally just stopping at one where the friendly owners packed up my purchases in a little plastic bag to hang from my motorbike bar.

The relief of settling on a purchase didn’t last long, I soon found myself being pulled over, along with nearly other rider, by the police.  I’ve had few, if any, interactions with the Thai police and all the stories I’ve heard about them have included bribes and sometimes trips to jail.  Needless to say, I was somewhat anxious about my status as a foreigner and one driving around on a motorbike at that.  I handed them my passport, tried to assume a respectful demeanor and then tried my best to understand whatever they were asking me in Thai.  It soon became clear that they were going to let me go so I asked for a breakfast recommendation.  The officer motioned to a place up the street and recommended the soup.  “Kuay tiew gai?” I asked.  He smiled at my pigeon Thai.  I gingerly restarted the motorbike trying my best not to run over either officer as I drove towards breakfast.

The rest of the day was like a dream.  I drove through the gong village.  I ended up at a wat on a mountain, there were no English signs and no mention of the sites in any of my books or maps, but it seemed to be a destination for Thai tourists who showed up to see the chedi and white temple, which was a shadow of the white temple I’d seen in Chiang Rai just a few short weeks ago.  For lunch, I stopped at Mae Nam Song Si (Two Color River) a terrible tourist idea, in Khong Jiam and had naem muu, a sour fermented pork sausage sliced and dressed with cilantro, chiles and fried peanuts.

Later I found myself driving around behind an abandoned building on rocky paths and then sitting by a small blue-green lake without a soul in sight.  Back on the bike and heading home, I passed through the gong village again, but this time I stopped to see the gongs up closer.  A woman came out.  “Is okay if I take pictures,” I asked.  She smiled and, producing a stick, began tapping each gong.  One sounded hollow, weak and muffled.  Another bellowed loud and clear.  Each had its own voice.   I was drawn to small one that sung clear and true; it would be perfect for my 1.5 year old nephew, whom I would see in a month or so.

Driving back was long and grey.  The sky was overcast and the rice paddies a duller green.  By the time I reached Ubon proper, I was tired, dirty and hungry.  Again I was unable to find the laab restaurant.  Not thinking clearly I did the silly thing and went to one of the restaurants on the water recommended in a book.  It was nearly empty.  I ordered laab and som tom, both unremarkable, and was too tired to finish a beer.  I headed home, the day’s activities already dim memories.

Geow Mangkorn (Dragon Fruit) Orchard

Dragon Fruit Blossoms

Salapao (Steamed Buns)

Kuay Tiew Gai (Chicken Noodle Soup)

Gong

Chedi

Naem Muu (Fermented Pork Sausage)

Overcast Rice Paddies in Ubon Ratchathani

Som Tom (Papaya Salad) & Laab Muu (Minced Pork Salad)

Beht Sam

Ubon Ratchathani, Thailand – Last night my father called to tell me that a box of notebooks and shoes arrived at my parents’ house in Massachusetts.  I sent it from Bangkok over two months and its arrival was a reminder of things past and things left undone.  So, I’m picking up where I left off on my last travels.

I spent my first day in Ubon biking all over the countryside and then circling and circling around town looking for a nonexistent restaurant.  My search unfruitful, I stopped off elsewhere and ordered tom yum goong and beht sam, roast duck bathed in soy with green chiles, coriander and a chile sauce on the side.  (That’s coagulated blood in the upper left.)  The soup was lackluster, but the duck was delicious and more than I could eat anyway.  I headed home sated.

Suang Sawad
64 Palochai Road
Ubon Ratchathani, 3400
045 24 2256

Ubon Ratchathani, Thailand – I wanted to return to Isaan (Northeast Thailand) for one last time before leaving the country so I chose Ubon Ratchathani in Thailand’s far east at the corner of Laos and Cambodia for a short trip.  I took an overnight bus on the wonderfully strange Nakhon Chai Air seemingly so named for the features that mimic an actual plane: meals and beverages, individual TVs, reclining seats with a massage function and attendants in uniform, perfect makeup and hair.  It was nicer than the last plane I took to the U.S.

After getting in and settling in, I stopped in at Choikee for breakfast on my way to rent a motorbike.  It was open-front restaurant where middle-aged men leaned over unclean tables smoking and drinking tea.  They had an assortment of Western and Thai dishes, but I opted for Bah Kut Teh, the stewed pork with Chinese herbs, which turned out to be a fabulous chance choice.  Aromatic of star anise, the soup was presented rather elegantly for plain surroundings.  Enoki mushrooms, dusted with ground white pepper, fanned out across the napa cabbage-wrapped stewed pork and the whole arrangement was surrounded by a clear brown broth.  The broth was soy salty, herbaceous and spiced, the pork tender and flavorful and the vegetables crisp tender.

Once finished with breakfast and sorted out on my motorbike rental, I set off for Ban Pa Ou, a small weaving village north of Ubon.  Many of the villages around Ubon specialize in a craft, like weaving cotton or bronze gongs.  Similarly, parts of the road seem to specialize in one food. You’ll see the same item at stall after stall for one whole stretch and then there’s nothing for miles and miles and miles.

At first I thought it was a bit peculiar that a whole strip of road would be peppered with stands all selling the same thing – salapao (the Chinese steamed buns) or the same exact assortment of fruit (green plums, dragon fruit, rambutans).  It seemed that it would be easier to sell something if your stand was either differentiated from the other stands closeby or far enough away that there wouldn’t be competition.  But given that many of the villages all sell similar products, perhaps these roadside vendors don’t see it this way.  They’ve grown up in communities where everyone has prospered together doing the same thing.  In any case, I ended up buying a young coconut with its refreshing liquid and tender meat from the coconut stretch near Ban Pa Ou.  After sipping my fill, I set the coconut in its plastic bag on my handlebar, from which it whipped, dripping and drizzling coconut juice all over my leg for the entire ride home.