Tick Collection: Thai Style

      Back in third grade I was prompted to write about ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’. (Weren’t we all?)  You see, my entrance to nerd-dom started early. Really early. Even at the tender age of 8 I had my life planned out. I was going to be, wait for it.......... a HERBOLOGIST. Of course, that is an entirely made-up term. I defined this career as stomping through the jungle in exotic locales looking for plants that had medicinal properties. So very 8-year-old me. Screw dreams of being a prima ballerina, I set my sights on science early. Can you imagine the sort of response my desire garnered in my rural, WNC, public school teachers and peers? Yeah, I was that kid. Make my mistake, I was never ridiculed or bullied... well, not any more than is normal in the cruel world of children’s social interactions. But I was tagged at very early age as being a little, in Southern geniality terms, interesting.
      Fair enough. I am a little odd. Cool by me. 
      But, you know what is really cool?! 14 years later I AM getting paid to stomp through the rainforest. That’s right, I might not be a ‘herbologist’ but, gosh-darn-it, I am living the dream. Poetic justice or just coincidence? Who knows. And, frankly, I don’t care. What concerns me is that I got to go tick collecting in Thailand. So freaking cool.


Where? Northeastern Thailand. 
When? November 27-December 2nd, 5 days
Who? Chalao, Bpioo, Mee and I
Provinces? Chiayaphum, Phetchabun, Loei, Phitsanulok, and Uttaradit (And a glimpse of Laos!)
National Parks? PhuKhieo Wildlife Sanctuary, NaamNaao National Park, PhuSuan National Park, PhuSoiDao National Park, NamtokChatTrakan National Park
Ticks Collected? 200+ between the 4 of us
Ticks parasitized by? More than I care to admit. I stopped counting after I pulled nymph #40 off my stomach. We all managed to get a number of nymphs. Chalao has the brunt of the after effects. He is still dealing with bite site side-effects... we’ve been keeping track of his symptoms and documenting the wound progression. We even drew blood and have been doing some testing.
Trip Summarized in One Word: Wonderous. 


I think the pictures will speak for themselves (see video at the end of the post). But I do have a few anecdotes to share that have no equivalent pictorial representation:


The Leech
     I have never really dealt with leeches. In my mind they are creatures that inhabit faraway, watery  places. Sure, I was traipsing through the Thai rainforest but I wasn’t fording rivers.... surely, I would be fine. Wrong. 
     On the first day, our first national park, I was enthusiastically absorbed in leaving no leaf unturned for our pursuit of ticks. I was utterly in my element. We had walked for over an hour and were just about to retrace our way back to the truck. The day had been incredibly successful. Ticks were everywhere. I think at that point we had already found at least 3 genus... not too shabby. I was pretty blissed out and, at first, paid no mind to the wet, cold sensation on my foot. It became annoying enough that I reached down to brush it off. To my horror there was, attached to my foot and engaged in full-body pumping action, a LEECH. 
      I screeched, leapt up into the tell-tale, one-footed, balanced dance of ‘get the hell off’ and managed scare the beejesus out of everyone present. I think I might have even let a four-letter word or two slip. Really, I was a sight to behold. Chalao came to the rescue and procured the critter off my foot. Whew. I would have liked to have stomped it but Chaloa, ever the scientist, wanted to save it for a colleague. He 
      The funniest thing about this whole experience is that I am really, really conscious of ‘keeping face’ around my lab-mates. I try extremely hard to keep an air of academic professionalism. I do not allow myself to act anything less than happy in their presence, no matter what. And yet, there I was, in full blown freakout mode in the middle of the rainforest. So much for saving face. 
     As the trip progressed I acquired more leeches. Lots of them. The visceral, emotional response lessened with each one and I managed to even leave one attached long enough to snap a picture. Make no mistake, they still creep me the heck out. Ew. 


I Am my Father’s Daughter
     To really get the full effect of this story you have to understand that my father is just over 6ft tall and has, for the duration of my relationship with him, always managed to hit is head. If there is a low overhang, the crest of his head will meet it violently. Always. It is basically a running joke in our family that this sort of misfortune always befalls him. 
     Thailand is not made for tall people. And by ‘tall’ I mean anyone over 5’6”. By this definition, I am tall. Way tall. In Bangkok I get by pretty easy. Some buses have a tight head clearance but, mostly, there is no need for me to duck and weave through my daily life. However, in rural areas, things are simply not built to accommodate someone my height. Totally understandable.  Somehow, despite recognizing this fact, my physical actions did not reflect such knowledge. 
      Case and point: We stayed at a simply stunning bungalow near the Thai-Laos border. We arrived there late at night, in the pitch dark. The bungalow was set up in such a manner that one had to step from the group up to a porch and from the porch into the room. Unsurprisingly, the head clearance at both of these thresholds was low.... lower than could accommodate me. 
     So, the first time we inspected the room, I gingerly stepped up to the porch and *SMACK*, crest o’ head meets ceiling beam. Fantastic. I laughed and so did everyone else. It was really par for the course. Then, 15 seconds later, I did it again. Stepping into the bungalow, not even thinking about it, I stood tall and proud. *WAM*. Precisely the same point of contact. Lovely. The dull soreness from the first time around graduated into splitting headache. I laughed and, surprise surprise, so did everyone else... silly American who doesn’t understand her own height. I gobbled 3 ibuprofens and chugged water in hopes that pain would subside. 30 minutes later while I was exiting the bathroom, I hit my head AGAIN. Not even kidding. The impact wasn’t nearly as jarring as the first two times but it was significant and hardly pleasant.  Bpioo and Mee must have thought that I was the most clumsy person they had ever seen. Meanwhile, they dipped in and out of the bathroom with nary a thought of the low threshold. I couldn’t help but be a bit envious.

     The next morning we woke up in Thai heaven. It was misty and, dare I say, pretty chilly out. The porch of the bungalow overlooked a sprawling lotus pond and it was the kind of quiet that makes you wonder if rapture is real. I padded outside, camera in hand and explored the immediate area. On the way back in, I ducked under the first threshold and congratulated myself on being so savvy to remember to do so. Let’s just say I spoke too soon. 10 minutes later, after a brief session of psuedo-meditation on the porch, I attempted to step back inside the bungalow. *CRACK* The entire bungalow structure shuddered under the impact. goddamnit. I erupted into peels of laughter because, if I hadn’t, there was a good chance I would have welled up from frustration/pain. 
     Is such a thing genetic? I have little evidence to prove otherwise. 


The Chicken Head
      If you have been reading regularly, you will have noticed that the frequency of freaky food encounters has decreased. I attribute this partially to my increasing thai language capabilities “mai moo, na ka” and a mostly to my honed eye for mystery meat ingredients. 
      My lab mates understand my vegetarian tendencies and, despite my insistence that they do not, always try to accommodate my dietary finickiness. On this trip we had been eating alot of chicken, which I am okay with while here, but I’ve really never been chicken’s biggest fan. Chalao seemed to read my mind and after two solid days of chicken meals (6 meals straight), started asking for extra veggies... I was both deeply grateful and totally relieved. For the next two days I feasted on local mushrooms, morning glory, eggplant, and squash.... all way better than chicken. One our way back to Bangkok (an epic 600 km road-trip), Chalao was insistent that we stop at a roadside restaurant for a traditional Issan food as our last meal of the trip. Since SomTum, my absolute favorite green papaya salad was sure to be included, I knew it would be a delicious meal regardless of whether it included meat.
      We found the loveliest of restaurants perched on the side of a rice patty. It was empty save for a flock of roving mini-cocks, clearly some specialty breed of chicken, that were much cuter than the usual meat variety that roam everywhere here. One of the most traditional of Issan meals is somtum, baked -over-coals chicken, and sticky rice. The combination is exquisite when done right. Just the right amalgamation of salty, sweet, sour, and spicy. Our meal here was easily the tastiest example I have had the privilege of eating so far. Despite my usual indifference to chicken, this one was cooked to perfection and so perfectly complimented the side dishes that I couldn’t resist a second helping. Chalao, excited by my enthusiasm for the meal, quickly served me up another piece. 
      As I slowly pulled the meat from the bone, arranging forkfuls of equal portions sticky rice, papaya salad and chicken, I had trouble defining the portion of the bird I was eating. (I really shouldn’t be so inquiring) All the bones seemed to be in irregular places and there were ligaments I was not accustomed to dealing with. Finally, I pulled the last bit of crisped skin of the bone and revealed a chicken head, eyelids and wattle intact. It was all I could do not to change my demeanor. I took deep breaths, calmed my queasy stomach, and covered the atrocity with a paper napkin. It was probably the best act of self-control I have made yet. 
      Just when I think I have everything under control a chicken head lands on my plate. Good ole’ Thailand, keeps me on my toes.