Thailand

In 1990 I joined a group of artists traveling to northern Thailand to visit a variety of small villages that specialized in fiber arts. I started weaving wall hangings in 1968, and was invited to join the group by my former weaving teacher. Over the course of three weeks, we saw young girls and women spinning and weaving cotton, making silk thread from silkworms and creating silk fabrics, and making paper. Because we liked earrings and bracelets and rings, we visited a jewelry-making village.

In one of the cotton weaving villages, about six young girls sat at on a bench in front of a wide, large loom, weaving together as one, moving the shuttle with quick thrusts from one end to the other, changing threads according to a design tacked up on the front of the loom. I admired their dexterity and cooperative skill and, with the help of our guide translating, I asked them what it felt like to work as one. The girls giggled. The guide shrugged and said to me, “They think it’s a finny question. How else could they weave?” I thought about my Indian bedspread and realized it was one piece, probably woven on a loom much like the one I was looking at.

When we watched women in a silk-making village delicately take silk strands from the silk worms and spin them into fine thread, I stood in awe of the delicacy of the process, their patience and dexterity. I asked the guide how long it took the women to develop such skill. She gave me a wondering look and said, “They’ve been doing it since they were girls. It’s their job.” I couldn’t imagine doing one task for the whole of my working life. 

Later, we watched women dye the threads and other women spin the colorful threads into beautiful silk fabric. This time there was no sign of a pre-visioned design. “How do they know what threads to use?” I asked the guide. “They’re artists,” she said. “They’ve woven together for many years.” I’m a weaver. I don’t work from a pre-visioned design, but I’ve never been able to weave as freely and quickly and artistically as they were weaving. I have to look at what I’m weaving, decide what colors and textured yarns to use, then weave a few inches, look at what I’ve done, and sometimes, take out what I’ve woven because it doesn’t look right. One weaving takes me months longer to make than what these weavers create in a few days. 

We stopped at a jewelry making village and while the others were looking at various jewelers’work, I stopped to watch a young girl, who looked about nine or ten. She acknowledged my presence but continued working on a pair of earrings. When she finished, she asked, “You like?” I nodded. “You buy?” I didn’t need any more earrings. Seeing my hesitation she said, “I give you good price. You tell friends to buy.” I laughed. Such salesmanship from one so young. I agreed. Bought the earrings. Told the group about her work. I noticed she charged them more than she charged me. When I looked up at her, she winked.

We were staying at a lovely guest house where we were provided with breakfast and dinner. At dinner one evening, several people in the group told the hostess they would not be coming to breakfast, not to set places for them. In the morning, all the places were set. Soon the young girl bringing the first course put fruit on all the plates. When I told her the number of people who would not be coming to eat breakfast, she looked shocked. “Who doesn’t eat breakfast?”

Even though I had a paper, written in Thai: This medicine must be kept in freezer,” when I went to pick it up, it was in the refrigerator. I asked the man if he’d read the note. He nodded. When I asked him why the medicine had been put in the refrigerator instead of the freezer he said, “Freezer too cold for medicine.”

Being with people of different cultures taught me to be open to reactions I did not expect and could not predict.

If you’ve traveled out of your home country, what differences did you encounter?

---

april 2025 monthly stories