Thailand; round two

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My crossing back into Thailand was evidential that geographical proximity bears no neccesary reference to cultual similarities, as the shock I received, was apparent:

-- Border crossing: Huay Xai Laos to Chiang Khong Thailand --

In the morning, we stamped out of Huay Xai and went across the river to Chiang Khong; the border on the Thai side. The friendly immigration official on the other side stamped our re-entry visas and arranged for two motorbikes to carry us free of charge to the bus station. The buses were all full and so we purchased tickets on the local bus to Chiang Mai. Seven hour journeys have become a thing of normality and we were happy to board the bus. What we did find bizarre however, was the reverse culture shock we were experiencing. After a whole month in Laos, Thailand (a developing country) suddenly seemed.... developed, orderly and industrialised. Jeez. Shops, roads, houses, banks..

-- Chiang Mai --

Which brings me to my next point. There had been none in Laos and it had been a month since I'd used my ATM card. With my pin number stored in an inaccesible part of my brain, and my Barclays card refusing to issue money, I was stuck. As you can imagine, this new dilemma had wonderful effects on my homesickness and extreme thoughts took flight across my hazy, clouded mind. I wanted to book a flight BKK-LHR. I wouldn't though and I knew it. That same thought had crossed my mind when I lived in France but if I went home, I'd live to regret.

Called the bank, kindly using Kat's Skype account to arrange for a new pin number. Soon as I'd done so, the old number ironically found it's way to the forefront of my pea-sized brain. Nice. Trying to forget the whole ordeal, we walked through the huge Sunday market. Any other day I probably would've enjoyed it but that day, the amalgamation of anxiety, heat, homesickness and fatigue were compounded by the hot, sticky, busy, crowded marketplace to form a perfect recipe for dejection and entrapment. Towards the end of the market stalls, there was a religious ceremony taking place at the temple and we joined. They were comfortingly reminiscent of the Hindu religious ceremonies around which I'd been raised. As it began to pour, we left the scene and ate street pad thai and watermelon. I was craving masala chai. Together, we scoured the streets of Chiang Mai in search of an Indian restaurant. On soi nine, off Mun Muang we were rewarded with the sounds of Bollywood music and an elderly couple inviting us in to their vegetarian restaurant. We each had a banana lassi and masala chai, chatting til late into the night. Late enough for me to have tired. I was. Extremely. Yet once again that blissful ecscape called sleep eluded me.

22 May 2006. Cajoled myself from semi to full consciousness so that Kat and I could go and rendez-vous her Canadian friends who had been in town a while. Breakfast was a light fruit salad, to which my stomach did not take kindly and punished me with pounding aches, for what I thought was a healthy start to the day. Calendars, calculators, guidebooks, paper, pens, diaries and thinking caps laid out across the table, we planned and scheduled the forthcoming weeks. Travel really is taxing. Who said I was on holiday??!! The task was made more arduous than it ought to have been, for my desires were divided: travelling thailand, and, that place I call home. For all my persistent homesickness, I knew that I wouldn't leave. So, I planned to remain in Chaing Mai another week. Back then, the days, even the moments seemed long enough. How would I deal with a whole week?! We proceeded to walk around the city, unending streets of inescapable heat, combining with the stench of gutters, sewerage and open drains. Of course, my homesickness would have me focus on every negative aspect of the city and my perspective of Chiang Mai was therefore tainted. The day had begun traumatically and was not improving. As Kat went downstairs to check her emails, I was stood under the shower open mouthed and open eyed, in the hope of a refreshing, wake-up call. That it was. All soapy and lathered up, I realised that the water gushing from the shower was.... black. So, reluctantly, I stood under the shower just long enough to rinse the soap off me and feel dirtier than I had before I entered. Any other day I might've complained, shouted, or shaken my head in digust. I did none of those. Neither did I mention my aching legs, my sore feet, my pounding head, my upset stomach. I was simply exhausted, drained and in despair of the whole trip. I hadn't the energy to even compain anymore. All I could summon was a slow, defeated, smile... That evening I dined with the Canadian girls as Carrie was leaving for Cambodia. Once she'd left Kat, Merissa, Brie and I walked the night market until 9pm at which point I could stand no more. Whilst they were headed for the ladyboy show and a night of intoxication, I made my excuses, left and headed for the cool climes of HagenDazs (yes, they have one here - right next to the cultural authenticities of McDonalds, Starbucks and Subway) who I knew would provide me comfort in the form of soft sweet dulce de latte. They did. I returned to more water problems and a now flooded bathroom floor. Seeing as a BA flight bound for LHR did not land outside the guesthouse, I was guessing that the fairies weren't working tonight. Figured I may as well go to sleep. Nope. Looks like that's not happening either. I turned the air-con unit up to maximum, cranked the mp3 player volume to full, and dived under the covers with my book until I was lulled into some kind of subconscious state of rest. I woke, every half hour glancing over to Kat's empty bed. Perhaps I shouldn't have left her out at night. I knew she was probably in the safe company of Merissa, Brie and lots of alcohol but I couldn't be sure. I was still awake at 04:30 when she came in. We chatted, lay still a while and then rose to pack up and check out of this filth hole of a hostel.

30 May 2006. Ms Asha Patel - accredited Thai chef, as skilled in creating authentic Thai dishes as she is at eating more than her stomach can feasibly hold, about ten stones heavier (and happier) than yesterday. That about sums up today. I'm sat once again on soi nine, in the indian restaurant we discovered this week. The pelting rain has caused the little sois to become rivers of flowing, dirty, water. So for the moment at least, I am stranded here in this little restaurant. If I were ever to be stranded then I could think of few conditions to perfect my current situation: hot, sweet chai, bollywood music on TV, my journal, and me. The remedial combination was too good for me to brave the rain swept streets in search of bars, and so whilst Kat leaves to find her friends, my backside remains firmly glued to this seat. This morning, after packing, we left our luggage in storage and went to our cooking class. After visiting the local market for a lesson in identifying and selecting fresh produce, we went out to the cooking school and got started. Specialities included pad thai, thai green curry, fried chicken with cashew nuts, fried spring rolls with peanut sauce, soup, sticky rice, coconut cream and mango pudding. Oh, and a lesson in fruit carving, where the pictures show my flower-like watermelon in full splendour. All in all, it was a fantastic day of cutting, banging, chopping, frying, laughing and eating until we were bursting at the seams. By the end, hardly able to move, we were in no fit state to be lauding heavy backpacks around the city in search of a new guesthouse. But, that's the way it was. We ended up in soi nine, conveniently close to our favourite joints, and in a wonderfully clean and calm guesthouse. It was only 100baht more than the last place but even that was reduced. Gotta love the way everything is negotiable in Asia. Accomodation, transport, clothes, food, everything. Can you imagine walking into a British store: "I'll give you 20p for this jumper and no more". Hm. Maybe not.

Sunday 4th June 2006... My only vague, blurred recollections of recent days are:
attending a hatha yoga class at the yoga centre whilst internally critiquing the teacher for not being a scratch on Jonathan; shopping; a haircut; more shopping; Muay Thai kickboxing training at the stadium; massages; movies; food; flooding; and the company of that ever present friend, insomnia. Battered, bruised, bitten and nauseatingly sick from my sleep deprived body, I can't remember anything else...

...Okay, I'm back. Slightly rested and rejuventated, my memory bank delivers. I recall the frustrations we kicked out during an intense training of Muay Thai kickboxing that was given by Mr. Pon, an interesting lesson from a non-English speaking highly skilled trainer. I had practised some Muay Thai back when I was a first year at the LSE, but this three hour session proved more fruitful than anything I gained back in London. As well as endorphin release and improved fighting skill, we left with sore muscles and a crippled walk. Then.. umm... blank areas infiltrate my memory where images and thoughts ought to be... oh, yeah, I remember - we spent the rest of the day up to various errands including exploration of the numerous, amazing bookstores that Chiang Mai hosts. I love them. I spent an extrutiating hour in one store, having to choose between the armfuls of books that I wanted. Eventually opted for four, including one of my favourites: Osho. His books are extremely difficult to obtain, but, read him, if ever you get the opportunity. We also did some emailing. Mistake. In the time that we were in the internet cafe, the skies opened and released what seemed like more water than is contained in Nile. With water soon rising up over the tyres of vehicles, many tuk-tuks refused to transport us back to the guesthouse. We had a bus to catch in thirty minutes. Moreover, Kat had lost her purse. Whilst she went on a hunt for it, I managed to hop onto the back of a tuk tuk and wade through knee high water back to the guesthouse. I quickly pulled a few dry clothes from my backpack and changed into them. Kat arrived minutes later, purse in hand but no less soaked than had she have jumped into a pool. She too, quickly dressed before the arrival of our transport. It came in the form of a 4x4 drive, full of wet, grim looking travellers. Fortunately, the driver took to us kindly and permitted us to ride in the front with him. He blasted RnB tunes from his Kenwood sound system and suddenly the world was good again! But not for long...

-- Chiang Mai to Bangkok --

We boarded the smelly, cramped bus and prepared for a long overnight ride to Bangkok. Still damp from the rain, I was cold under the air-con vents and accepted the blanket offered by the staff. I spent the next two days scratching from whatever lay in the musty old blanket and wished I hadn't. I was also feasted on by a single mosquito that remained buzzing around my legs for the entire ten hour journey, piercing a different part of my flesh every hour. Great. We arrived in Bangkok at 5am, greeted by a spectacular sunrise that shone over the city as it slowly came to life. To wake anyone that might have been fortunate enough to be sleeping, the loudspeakers cranked screeching Thai music at full volume, notifying us of our arrival into Bangkok. I looked over at Kat whose face displayed severe irritation. Whilst she grit her teeth in annoyance, I laughed. It was, truly Thai. We lifted our luggage and set off in search of a guesthouse, mistakenly believing that it wouldn't be difficult given the low season. We were wrong. An hour later, fatigued, hot, sweaty and silent, we hadn't found anywhere that resembled a clean, safe environment to sleep in. At that point, if someone had offered me the Marriott, I would've taken it, at any cost. Fortunately, we were guided by a friendly tourist to an excellent place just off soi rambuttri, and, checking in, we collapsed, face down into our beds and were knocked unconscious for the next two hours. I was first to wake, realising that we had much to do and little time. Showers and breakfast did not ease the fatigue nor our painful muscles, still sore from kickboxing. This of course did not hinder our plans to visit the Chatachuk weekend market, of course not. With full intentions to simply 'look' at the market stalls, we returned home, ten bags each in hand, sore feet and painful muscles. The vast, sprawling maze of stalls at Chatachuk lures 20,000 shoppers every weekend and, is retail heaven for those who enjoy shopping which is not at the expense of a plastic card. We went for a reflexology foot massage to ease the pains that we'd claimed from kickboxing endeavours. Have someone dig their strong, bony fingers deep into your bruised body for an hour and you will begin to appreciate the vigour of a Thai massage. Ouch, is all I can say. That evening, we met Olga, a 60year old, youthful, free and fun loving traveller who invited us to dinner. We obliged. She took us to meet her friend, an Australian who now lectures in Bangkok, and it was the most surreal dinner - an amazing feast of fresh seafood (prawns, crab, fish) in a backstreet local outlet, whilst engaging in interesting politcal debate with a couple of middle aged Westerners! We ate seafood and drank beer until stuffed silly. Arriving back at the guesthouse, the German lads were still up and so I joined them a while for chatter... Actually, in my time in Bangkok, the 30something year olds proved to be excellent company. Inquiry into the Sanskrit and Chinese inscriptions tatooed into his arm, resulted in many a deep conversation, late into the night. I discovered that they, like me had practiced Win Chung kung fu, yoga, meditative healing and other spiritual practices, the experiences of which we were able to share.

-- Kanchanaburi --

The entire motivation behind my extended stay was guided by a single factor: my love for the graceful, powerful creatures known as big cats. I had heard about the 'tiger temple' in Kanchanaburi, and from that moment knew that I wouldn't leave Thailand without at least a visit, if not a volunteering project. Short of time, I could only make a day trip but, that was sufficient to fulfil on a lifelong dream of coming up close and personal with tigers. Back in my days of primary school, I recall a class assignment. We were asked to present a project, on any topic of our choice. Even then, at the young age of nine, my love for the feline family was apparent as I won first prize for my extensively researched and well presented project. Today, still present to their magnificence, I stopped, in jaw-dropping awe at their beauty, as I caught sight of them at the temple. Led by a volunteer assistant, I approached the first of the felines, large, and lazy. I knelt down and placed my hand on his ribcage, rising and falling in synchronicity with each breath. The personal emotional depth of the experience explains in many photos, the absence of my smile, replaced by only an intense, deep, loving gaze. My second encounter was with a tiger somewhat noisier, displaying his irritation at having been awoken by a low growl and rolling head. I let him be. Moving on to the tiger cubs that lay basking in the sun, and so effortlessly posed for my pictures. To those that know me, you will understand that the whole experience of being in close contact with tigers without ropes, cages or any protective barriers was.. well, something which my own limited literary expression cannot describe.

We enjoyed the bumpy, fast two hour drive back to Bangkok that evening, Kat and I spread out along the backseat of the minivan, engaging in light hearted gossip and giggles.

Tuesday 06 June 2006. I went to that place which is now my second home in Bangkok - the tailors. I went there intending to collect my finished garments. I left two hours later, with two new orders. Sigh. Well.. every woman ought to have a sexy black number after all. As my mind objected, my mouth spoke. I asked to take a look at satin silk fabrics and get some dress ideas. Once he had drawn up a dress design for me, I racked my brains for possible justification at this extra expenditure. I really wanted the dress. Really. Knowing my own weaknesses, I could've saved myself the trouble and just agreed in the first place. But, it worked to my favour. Seeing the anguished looks on my face, Santosh went and negotiated an amazingly good price with his boss in order that I could have the dress, that he knew I so badly wanted. I love my tailor. Thirst quenched, both by a growing new wardrobe, and cups of tea, we stayed with the tailors awhile, chatting. The conversation is always colourful and fun, and often fruitful as it proved on this occasion. Upon their advice, we sped off to 'little india' in search of good food and great bargains. We found the recommended Royal India restaurant, tucked in a dark, back alley. We polished an entire thali, two cups of chai, dessert and munchies. Time to walk it off. In the space of that short walk, we also picked up jewellery, sarees and silk pashminas. At 6pm, we began to head home - we hadn't run out of energy to shop, only hands to carry things in! It was raining and the walk took us almost two hours. Still, the views were worthwhile, and, as the photos show, the temples at dusk were worth the effort alone. Dumping our new purchases atop the growing mountain of items that covered out room, it resembled something of a warehouse rather than anything fit to sleep in. Tidy up time. I stayed up til 2am, clearing and sorting and becoming increasingly concerned about the large number of goods that I actually had...

Wednesday 07 June 2006.... And rightly so. It took the two of us, Kat and I, to lift this enormous bag of goods. We got downstairs but barely made it to the front door when we saw our deliveries of yet more things. Kat stored hers away whilst I realised that one of my shirts was incorrect. I called Santosh who told me to return. Before long, we were back in the tailors again - with tea and water all ready for our arrival! Though, at twenty minutes, this was our shortest stay yet. In my time in Bangkok, they'd made not only a customer, but a friend and they were sad to see me leave. Not only did Santosh and Ram have someone to speak in hindi with whilst I was there, but we also had good fun. We exchanged contact details, and I am sure, in time, I will be calling upon their services in time of wardrobe need. Two years of fashion training in Milan and Darjeeling has given this man a keen eye for fashion and a remarkable sense of style. Despite my objections, he always insisted on a particular style for me, and, entrustingly I allowed him to make my clothes as he saw fit. I was never disappointed. I'm going to miss him in the days when I wander the streets of London's stores, none of whose ill-fitted clothes I fancy, can I afford. We left the tailors, happily empty handed as Santosh arranged to have his messenger boy deliver all of my luggage to the post office. The ordeal was not over. I spent the next hour attempting to explain to the very friendly yet non English speaking Thai postal service staff how I wanted this mammoth package to be delivered to the UK. 7000baht and several interesting communicative gestures later, my box was on its way. Kat thought the day's events were all too much and decided she needed some pampering. Back in town, she spent no less than three hours at Shewa Spa getting facials, waxing, massages and manicures. I joined her for part of the pampering but soon got bored and left for more conversational depth with the German lads.

That night, our last in South East Asia (and for Kat, the last in a 12month travel feat), we dined at an exquisite restaurant, washing our food down with Mai Tai cocktails. Dessert was street stall banana and chocolate pancakes with three scoops of vanilla and tamarind ice cream. The evening took a pleasant unexpected turn when I realised that my favourite guitarist was back in town! Chilling to the mellow sounds of his strings, we sat in the bar past 11pm at which point the bar turned into a nightclub. Sort of. It was a weird set up, but, with music as good as that, nobody was gonna stop me from strutting my stuff! Others followed suit and we soon had a swing going. Hour upon hour we agreed how it'd be sensible to go home. Then didn't. We eventually left well past midnight and en route home we stopped for a speciality that can only be experienced here in SEA - another foot massage, out in the open air, en route home from a nightclub, for half an hour, and half the price of a bar of chocolate back home. I'm gonna miss Bangkok. We shoved our belongings into our sacks aggressively, pushing everything in until it all fit. By 3am we were done. We showered, dressed into our clothes for the morning, and rested our heads until 5am when our airport taxi arrived.

Thursday 08 June 2006. Bangkok International Airport.

Arrived at BKK airport, tongue thick and mouth parched. My eyes were heavy and my head throbbed in sync with the waves of nausea that motioned through me. Weeks of physical endurance, emotional turbulence and mental stress were combining to send my body signals that I needed rest. We had breakfast together: hot chocolate and blueberry muffin in the stillness of the early morning. Although our final farewell held tears, they were short and held the assured brievity of knowing that we'd meet again, for more than just a travel companion, in Kat I found a friend. She has been as sparkly as the summer sun and definitely brightened the duller days of my trip. I have made far too many Canadian friends over the course of my travels not to make a trip there and in any case, the pair of us may well be working in Asia togther next year. Once she'd gone, I lay my head down on my luggage, closed my eyes, and, in the now busy, noisy, bustling bkk airport, I slept, dreaming vividly of all my memories in the region. As she boards her plane homebound for Canada, I bid farewell not only to Kat, but to my whole South East Asian experience. Having grown accustomed to it, that acclimatisation soon develops into a level of unshakeable attachment as the initial blow dealt to the senses soon heals and develops immunity to the unpleasantries that are first felt. So, despite all my initial qualms, I do love it. As with India, I share a love/hate relationship with SEA such that I am somewhat sad to leave. Sad but very, very, excited to be going to a city that instills an instinctual sense of attraction, without my having ever been there. Hong Kong, here I come...

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Photos

a taste of home
the streets of little india

grrrr...
kat and I kicking out frustrations with mr pon, our non english speaking muay thaiboxing trainer

thai cooking school
creative rather than destructive efforts

only tigers
can make lazing look graceful. sigh.