Dungeons and Teepees

I've run into some interesting people and buildings recently. Yesterday after dinner I met a very friendly older Australian couple (it later turned out that they were my parents' age, but they looked a lot older at the time...I guess it's not surprising) and we went for a walk around town, stopping for some Thai "pancakes" (they have to have stolen them from the French!--they were literally crepes with a sweet filling). It started to pour (ah rainy season) and we ducked under an awning where some locals were drinking beer. We ended up hanging out there for a while talking, and it turned out that the husband, Derryl, is a cop in a rather bad neighborhood (in some Australian city, I don't remember where), while the wife, Gabi, is a prison guard at a maximum security jail and a piano teacher on the side! They both seemed rather cheerful and fun people--Derryl was showing off his tattoos of Thai, Vietnamese, and Australian flags, which made him quite popular with the local crowd. Gabi had tattoos of her children's names and birthdays and a huge dragon across her chest. They plan to retire in Thailand next year, teaching English.

As for buildings, I mainly want to talk about teepees. There was a cool bar in Chiang Rai--called Teepee Bar as you might have guessed--full of French hippies and rabbits (actually just two constantly copulating rabbits who may have been hermaphrodytes judging by their sexual positions; but many more French hippies, mainly male), so I lounged there for a bit on their soft floor pillows rabbit-watching. (Speaking of rabbits I just finished Watership Down:).

In Chiang Khong I had to review a restaurant today called Teepee. Turns out that the restaurant has closed, but in its place now stands an actual teepee, right in the middle of town. It functions as a tiny bar, as well as a home for its owner, who lives on a loft above the bottles of beer. The owner is also apparently a tattoo artist and uses some traditional bamboo technique for his craft. But he is out of town this week, and who did I find lounging practcally naked in the teepee hammock but the French hippie from Teepee bar in Chaing Rai! Apparently he was taking care of the bar until the tattoo artist returns from his trip--he must be very good with teepees.

Take 2

Today I dressed up as the Romanian flag (blue cardogan, yellow shirt, red pants) and gave motorcycles another chance. I had to go to the Golden Triangle (called gold not because of the glistening Buddha statues, but because of the famous opium trade between the three countries that meet there; as a matter of fact, the golden Buddha was placed there only recently to entertain the multitudes of tourists who realize all too quickly that there is nothing exciting about the town except for the fact that three countries come together in the middle of the river). So I rented a little black Honda Dream, with a broken speedometer and potentially broken gas tank indicator (or perhaps I really was driving on empty the whole time--there were no gas stations on the way, so I just had to hope). The trip was worth it--I learned a whole lot about opium and, surprisingly, tea. Here I'll just relate one Akha legend about the origin of opium, since after careful consideration I decided not to include it in the book. The legend relates that there was once a young beautiful girl, who had 7 suitors, but she could not choose between them (unlcear whether it was because she was so indecisive or because she didn't want to hurt anyone), so she decided to make love to all seven men, even though it would result in her death (again, unclear whether she would die of exhaustion or shame or be killed by her family for bringing dishonor on them). So that's what she did, and then she died, and the poppy flower grew out of her grave, and everyone who tasted the flower wanted more and couldn't get enough. Sounds plausible enough.

Monkeys!!!!!

As you know, I'm rather fond of primates...I even took a whole course on them so that I would get to look at cute monkey pictures twice a week. And I'd seen monkeys in the zoo (the spider monkeys in the Toronto zoo were particularly memorable), but I'd never seen them in the wild until today, when I visited the Monkey Cave in Mae Sai. Actually, the cave is called Thum Pla, or fish cave, and it does actually have lots of fish, but the monkeys are the real draw. The cave is part of a wat (appropriately called Wat Thum Pla), and these monkeys, hundreds of them, run around the entire complex, climbing to the roof of the temple and looking down at visitors with a superiour air. You can buy bananas and peanuts right in the wat, and feed them to the monkeys, who will take the nuts (ahem, legumes) directly from your hands. The big monkeys always go for the food first (bloodly alpha-males), and the little ones usually stay behind squeaking miserably, until you come up and hand them the banana directly, at which point they grab it and hide, so that the big monkeys can't take it away.

The trip there was an adventure in and of itself, since I enlisted the help of a local bar owner to get there. This guy was born in England (he's Thai) and calls himself Uncle Johnny. I've hung out with him two nights in a row, and he was completely drunk both nights, but swore that he would be sober for our trip. And sober he was, but he drove like a maniac, while I frantically clung to him from the back of his motorbike. He gave me a scary-looking helmet about twice the size of my head, which kept twisting my neck and catching on to my glasses. We passed a number of cars on the way there, so I guess we were going about 100kph, at least. I couldn't tell for sure because his speedometer was conveniently broken...Relax, he said, don't be scared, I'm a good driver. You drive awfully fast, I replied. But safely, he retorted. Safely?! He went the wrong way on the road ON PURPOSE, because it was faster than going to the next place where you could make a U-turn. He offered to drive me to Chiang Saen (where I am now), but I refused as politely as was possible under the circumstances.

As far north as I will go

Myanmar is just across the river in front of my window. Or across the Friendship Bridge, which is the route you take if you're not smuggling opium.

I am in the northenmost point in Thailand. And I wish I could go further...the heat is unbearable, and the cold showers (both natural and man-made) are not much better. But I did have mangoes for lunch today and mangosteens for breakfast yesterday and curry for dinner and the list goes on, so I shouldn't complain.

Ever since I finished my copybatch in Chiang Rai last week I've been traveling through sleepy towns and villages without internet or a 7-Eleven. Mae Salong was spectacular: one street, mountain views, cheap silver necklaces, Chinese influene=very good tea, and a towering temple on top of a hill. I drove up there with a fellow farang in the middle of the night; I don't think I've ever seen so many stars! And the temple shone mysteriously against the dark sky, lit up by a lightning storm off in the distance. What surprised me most was that this village without internet was a hodge-podge of religions, with a mospque, baptist church, and buddhist temple within 5 minutes of each other.

I was less fond of Tha Ton--a rather dead little village, where the power went out in the whole town as I was checking my e-mail, prompting angry beeping from 20 computers. But apparently the internet cafe, specializing in ADSL and international call services, also sold candles to disgruntled customers in case the first two were unavailable. The tourist office was perpetually closed (the owner is sleeping, I was told by the restaurant owner next door), and the woman who worked at my guesthouse stood over me as I ate my lunch and watched every spoonful that went into my mouth. I assumed that she wanted to make sure I paid, but out of principle I sat there slowly enjoying my tom yum soup (in so much as it was possible with someone breathing down my neck) and didn't pay until I was done.

Speaking of tom yum soup, I have a confession to make. I think I like the stuff they serve at 9 Tastes better than the real thing. Actually, I prefer the tom yum at Penang to the one at 9 Tastes, but in any case, I'm ashamed to say that all my anticipation of the plate-fulls of spicy soup have turned out to be a disappointment.

I've met no other lone female travelers on my way so far, which is somewhat disconcerting, particularly because I've met plenty of older male ex-pats, most of whom are married to young Thai girls. They have been rather pleasant company, both in Chiang Rai (where they played chess while I typed up my copybatch) and here in Mae Sai, where I've been getting free beer from them. I have also met a number of Christian missionaries, but I won't go there:)

Motorcycle Diaries

I rode a motorbike several days ago. Yes, I, Inna, Nusha, who doesn't like roller coasters or risking my life, rented a red Honda motorbike in Southeast Asia, and rode it for two hours up a steep slope to a national park. On the left side of the road. Fortunately I wasn't alone--a guy from my hostel led the way up the mountain. I must admit I was terrified, though mainly of the cars and other motorbikes that were passing me. I understand now why everyone has a motorbike in this country--it's the only way to escape the heat at midday: pleasant cool wind in your face as you speed down the highway at 60kmp. Unfortunately, motorbikes aren't as useful for escaping the rain. Just as we got to the top the park office it started to drizzle. I had come to Thailand expecting daily tropical storms, but I hadn't seen one yet and I had been lulled into a comfortable sunny existence, or rather an uncomfortable, sweaty, but nevertheless sunny existence. But it started to drizzle, then to pour. We hid in a wooden gazebo along the road and tried to wait it out. When the tropical storm turned back into a drizzle we started back. After 5 minutes, I noticed that I didn't have my sunglasses (I didn't have a visor, so the rain was hitting me directly in the eyes.) "I don't want to go back" I whined, thinking of the slippery road. Steve offered to go back and get them...he came back 20min later with a battle wound--he'd fallen off his bike into a ditch, but he never found my sunglasses. The drizzle soon changed back into a shower, and we rode all the way back to town, all the 60 km, under the rain. The cool wind was no longer pleasant. In fact, it was the first time I was cold in this country. I was freezing. But we made it back! And, man, do I feel tough now:)

Another Resurrection

This time of my blog.

I don't quite know where to start with my notes on Thailand...I have several "themes" I wanted to address, and I'll break down my thoughts into smaller entries so that it's easier to read.

Right now I'm in Chiang Rai, a medium-sized and popular city in the north of the country. The first two towns I visited, however, were positively tiny, and people there see very few tourists especially in this time of year (i.e. rainy season). Children point at me in the street, yelling "hello!" One adorable five-year-old on the back of a motorbike (who puts their child on the back of a motorbike?!) pointed at me and cried: "farang!" meaning foreigner. The parent was probably embarassed, but I thought it was pretty cute. Older children try to start conversations with me: they ask me my name, where I am going, and how I'm doing, in no particular order.

Actually, adults are rather psyched about talking to me as well, though the conversation ends with "hello!"--the only English many of them know. As I was walking towards a hill tribe store I had to visit in Nan, I stopped at a bike shop to ask for directions. It turned out I had at least a kilometer of walking to do under the burning sun. I was about to turn back, when one of the guys offered me a lift. Trusting my instinct (or perhaps ignoring it) I got on the back of his motorcycle. The guy was very pleased with himself--a farang female on his bike!--he kept honking his horn so that all his friends at neighboring bike shops and gas stations would notice.

Earlier that day, a woman slowed down her bike next to me and introduced herself in halting English as an English teacher. "I'm on my way to [important wat whose name I forgot 2km outside the city]. Come with me." Here, I listened to my instinct, remembering signs next to the empty, harmless, and unconvincing tourist police office: "If someone offers to take you to a jewelry shop, please say no!" and "If someone offers you free food and drink, please say no!" So I turned down her offer, explaining that I have no time (which I didn't, running around like crazy to check out every establishment in town). "You don't trust me," she said, "let me read sentence from your book to prove I'm English teacher." Giving her the benefit of the doubt, I asked her where the Easy Internet was. She didn't know, "but come with me!" she insisted. Not this time.