Of Washed Out Roads and New Plans

(More New Years' Pictures to Follow)

We didn't get to go to the mountain for New Years.

This is a big disappointment.  So much so that when the telephone call comes, Suradet's face tells most of the story even before he give us the news.

The unusually heavy rains (for January) have literally washed out the road to the village.  This is that last little part that happens after anything resembling a paved road.  That the steep, rutted narrow lane way that takes a hour to go 11 km.  That red, treacherous, impossible-to-doze-off-even-if-you-weren't-already-mesmerzied part of the road. That part.  It's gone.

Literally washed down the side of the mountain.  This isn't even as if there was a landslide blocking the road way.  This is a road that's just gone.

There was a pig fattened up just for our visit.  There were hand made gifts ready.  There was a New Years' Service and other festivities to participate in.  We had gifts too, and a lot of expectations, to be honest.  In our farang world, more often than not the plans we make more or less happen sort of the way we plan they will.  At least, it's not that often that roads just disappear.

This was why we rushed away right after Christmas.  This was a big part of Sam's especially hope for this trip, to experience first hand village life, and to get to know Suradet's family a little better.

But the road is gone.

Takes me a day or so to get my head around this, to be honest.   No mountain trip?  Wow, that kinda sucks.  But there is this.  Had the road washed out AFTER we were there, it would have meant that we would be 'trapped' in the village until the road could be rebuilt.  I'm not sure exactly how long that takes, but apparently it's long enough that we can't even think of planning another time before I go.  Longer than a month, that means.  Longer than Sam's ticket home, for sure.  Weeks, maybe months?  That could have been an adventure, yes, but still.

So we celebrate New Years here.  And, hey, that's not all bad.  Just like at home, the kids get to stay up way late, trying to stay awake, watching a movie and eating food.  Pounded sticky rice is a traditional mountain treat, and so amazingly yummy when it's fresh and warm.  Sam and I got to help with the pounding.  (Again I am impressed with the physical strength of these people!)  There are small banger fire crackers that help with the celebrations.  And at the point of count down (sort of) we sing and pray the new year in.

Just a note:  In an event-oriented culture, apparently even the countdown to the new year doesn't have to be that precise :).  I think we were about 2 minutes late, even by the clock we were using.  Love it.

So 2018, here we are.  Unexpectedly not in the mountains.  But "expectedly" amazed by the richness of life, even in the adjustments, even in the disappointments.  Because I'm not in the mountain.  But I am surrounded by a cozy bunch of sleepy children who mean so much to me.  And I am under an almost full moon pounding sticky rice like it's been done thousands of years before this.  And I am guided by a loving God whose timing is perfect, and plans are good, and knows.  He knows.

As we miss count in this next year, I find I am "expectedly" deeply content.