How To Get Clean in a Karen Village: a Breathtaking Bucket Shower
- Rand Blimes
- Apr 30
- 3 min read
Note: This post is part of a series from a tiny village in northern Thailand called Mae La Oop, where I spent six weeks leading a semester-abroad program. There were no restaurants, no hotels, no tourist shops — just kind people, floor mats, and more amazing home-cooked meals than I thought one human could consume. My family and students lived with local host families, volunteered in the school, and worked alongside NGOs on grassroots development projects. It was challenging, immersive, and utterly unforgettable.
Before I go any further, let me be clear: we were staying in what was considered a nice house in the village of Mae La Oop. Many of the homes in the village were much simpler. The students I was traveling with were all fabulously jealous of the Western-style toilet in our host's house (they had the squat variety).
So I’m not complaining. Really, I’m not. I loved our time in Mae La Oop—bucket showers included. I’m not complaining. I’m just describing.
The Mae La Oop Bucket Shower
How the shower was supposed to work (in theory):
A pipe fed water from the river into a large tub in the bathroom. Most of the river mud was filtered out by a sock stretched over the pipe’s end (a surprisingly effective system, actually). Floating in the tub was a big pink bowl.
Here’s the general idea:
Scoop water with the bowl
Dump over body
Lather
Repeat for rinsing
Voilà. Clean!
How it actually worked for me (in practice):
Step one: I’d stand there, staring at the tub, wondering just how cold the water would be. The answer? Always the same—pretty cold.
Step two: psych myself up. After all, a bowl of cold water dumped over my back wasn’t going to kill me, right?
Right!
Deep breath. I’d scoop up the water. Hold it over my shoulder. Ready. Set . . .
Nope. Chickened out.
Instead, I’d lean way over and dump the water just across my head—keeping the icy stream from running down my spine. I’d shampoo, still leaning awkwardly forward, and then do the same thing to rinse.
Then I’d stand up and splash a little water onto all the areas that most needed attention.
Done. Clean-ish!
On hotter days, especially after long walks or mango-hunting expeditions, it was easier to face the cold. The weather in Mae La Oop could get surprisingly cool, but the afternoons were usually warm enough to make a real rinse-down bearable.
The Horror!
But one morning, when it was particularly chilly, I decided to just do the hair. I leaned over, closed my mouth tight (because I was fairly sure whatever was in that water wouldn’t sit well in my belly), and began to pour.
I wasn’t leaning over far enough.
The water slid from the top of my head and right down my back. My body seized.
I gasped.
But my mouth was shut tight, so my gasp went rushing up my nose. Along with all the sock-filtered river water. Up my nose. Deeply.
This launched a coughing fit, followed by sneezing, followed by the kind of sputtering normally associated with slapstick comedy or near-drownings.
Eventually, I caught my breath, finished the job, and went about my day.
And now, because travel, I know: it’s entirely possible to live a perfectly happy life without my favorite modern luxury—hot showers.
Other posts in the Mae La Oop Series:
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