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Published: January 24th 2006
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Night market, Chiang Mai
All sorts of tempting (and not so tempting) eats for sale Chiang Mai had been variously described as an Amsterdam of the north, a seat of cultural learning, or a mini Bangkok with Wats (Buddhist temples) on every street corner. "There's a million Wats in this town" said Linda, reading the guidebook. "Is that a MegaWat?" asked Steve, getting a kick in the shin for his efforts.
We spent a delightful few days in the city enjoying all of the above and more. The moat that surrounds the old town is particularly charming at night when the colourful lights of the hostess bars and restaurants lining it are reflected in it's murky waters. Being constructed largely on a grid system meant that there were plenty of street corners on which to find the famed Wats.
Our favourite was Doi Suthep which was a little outside town nestling on a wooded hilltop. We arrived minutes before sunset and enjoyed fantastic views over the city below. Given that Linda was already wearing the regulation temple wear, a lovely Thai silk sarong, we thought we'd go the whole hog and dong the enormous bell, light incense sticks and see what our future held according to ancient Chinese prophecy. This involved shaking a tumbler
full of 29 numbered sticks until one fell out. The number on the stick cross referenced to one of 29 prophecies written on slips of paper. Linda drew number 10, the text of which bears reprinting in full:
The 10th number tells that you seem to be fallen down from the tree. Can not tell somebody while sleeping. Difficult to find the lost things. The lover is satisfied. Asking for a baby, is a girl-baby. You are unlucky; should be careful Steve drew number 27, the text of which boiled down to "Life's great, no worries". Linda demanded a recount at this point, but Steve, eschewing his normal scepticism for the mystical, insisted that the powers of the shakey-stick tumbler not be trifled with.
We took in a cruise along the river on a 'scorpion tail' boat, one of only three such vessels existing. Our guide, Mr. D, personally crafted the replica boats which were once a common sight on the river, after much research . He would occasionally break from his running commentary on the town's history to perform a little magic trick. A little random perhaps but utterly charming!
The night bazaar is huge
and sprawling. If you've got an eye for a bargain- and a strong stomach- you can eat your fill of Thai food with the locals. We enjoyed some fried sweetcorn cakes, another green curry, delicious pork kebabs, but fell at the final hurdle with the dessert course- a curious multi-layered jelly concoction available in every flavour imaginable, all of them horrible.
Despite the throng of happy shoppers, our friend Sam managed to find us for our third rendezvous of the holiday. We told her to look for open air stage featuring a chubby yet nimble dancer with gold lame pants and Lilly Savage makeup - pretty hard not to spot. He was definitely the best of the motely crew of performers on stage, managing to fuse traditional Thai dance with moonwalking and Madonna vogueing. After such stimulating entertainment we need to wind down so opt for an al fresco thai massage. The rib massage was just too ticklish for Linda who slid off her seat in a fit of hysterics. This sets the masseuse off laughing and the rest of the massage is peppered with bouts of uncontrollable giggling.
Having eaten plenty of street food, some of it
Mrs Busara
This is shrimp paste- ingredient no. 47 of a good green curry tasty and some downright ropey, we decided it was about time we learnt the secrets of Thai cuisine and enrolled in a cookery course with Mrs Busara. Having learnt her English solely 'on the job' she did remarkably well to teach us how to make Thai green curry, Pad Thai and Tom Yum (a sweet and sour, spicy prawn soup). However, her habit of ending sentences with an emphatic 'hmmpf!' combined with unconvential verb placement meant that it was sometimes like being taught Thai cookery by Yoda.
The combination of ingredients, freshly harvested from the garden below, that go into making the green curry paste are a riot of smells, flavours and colors that quite literally bring a tear to the eye when you're mashing them all together in a mortar and pestle. A good 15 minutes of pestle-pounding is required, working up a sweat in the process. The rest is easy and great fun, even the prawn head smashing bit (this is an essential step in making Tom Yum- you don't want to miss any of that lovely prawn brain juice).
When we were finished, we feasted on our dishes which tasted all the sweeter (and sourer)
Doi Suthep
View over Chiang Mai. These are the only two monks I could find who weren't on their mobiles for having made them ourselves. Mrs B. entertained us over dinner with her rags to riches story. She arrived from the village in Chiang Mai with zero, not even a bag to hold her meagre possessions. She proudly lists her three cars, house and thriving cookery school business, all the fruits of her hard work and strong faith (with scant help from her husband, a womanising drinker, she confides). Far from sounding arrogant, she's refreshingly honest and proud of her achievements. She's also very devout and every morning brings food to the temple for the monks. As we're about to leave, we see her scrape the leftovers of our curry and noodles into a tupperware box. Hope the monks enjoy it as much as we did......
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sarah
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seems like thai cooking has no secret... I love the sarong. I don't know how it would look on London bridge or the Northern ine but definitely elegant Bises à tous les deux.