After a slow and lazy morning, we packed up and got ready to make the three hour car journey to Chiang Mai, Thailand's second city. On the way into town, there was a sign for the local English language radio station, named TITS Radio - I can't work out if they were being funny or clueless. We picked up Parn's girlfriend, Am, and then met with various family members for a whopping meal at a restaurant owned by a famous Thai singer, with photos of her adorning all the walls. And there was a guy upstairs playing a bit of traditional music from North Thailand. Despite the midges and mosquitos, it was a very nice setting.
Soon after, we took a stroll down the big night market, with assorted souvenirs, snacks and services up for grabs. Though the market itself was quite a wonderful thing, it attracted so many tourist punters, I felt sorry for the Thai stall-owners. Oh, of course, tourism is where the money's made, but someone should really do a study on the social anthropology of back-packers, because all variations on the theme were represented there: the bum-bags and bulges, the lads and ladettes, the friends of the earth, the middle-aged last-ditch sun and spirituality-seekers... It seems visiting a foreign country gives people a license to wear ridiculous clothes (which would, however, look fine and fitting on the local population), forego basic hygiene and act like a ponce. Whenever I travel, seeing fellow tourists (especially Western ones) almost always gives me an uncomfortable feeling, as it's like seeing a mirror image of yourself, except more like one you'd find in a fun house, contorted and twisted by the travel experience.
But enough self-loathing - I purchased a few postcards from a nice local photographer, while Ilan, Parn, Am and Baptiste all browsed and bought various nick-nacks. Then, it was time for us to crash at our hotel, which was far grander than any of us could have predicted; again, we felt we were far from worthy of the luxury being bestowed upon us. Hell, we wouldn't have minded even if the place stunk of durians (but there was a sign in the foyer forbidding them, so we were safe).
The next morning gave us the opportunity to try out the yummy hotel breakfast buffet and watch some godawful television. Baptiste and I despaired at the hollow use of English bandied about by the Asian TV networks, especially one documentary we were treated to about a Korean pop star called M - the inane voice-over built him up as if he were the second coming, and how running about in the sand for his album cover, choreographing a new dance routine or writing almost all his singles himself were like some incredible gifts he would bestow upon his fans as thanks for their undying support. I'm sure he's a lovely guy, but the media-managing ass-kissery was too much to stomach that morning. But more on tummy upsets later.
We took the long winding mountain road outside of Chiang Mai, up to Doi Suthep Temple. Apparently, Chiang Mai university students would have to run all the way up the road as part of their initiation ceremony. Can't say I'd want to join them.
Indeed, the turning left to right started to make Ilan a little car sick, and she soon became quite attached (read: addicted) to something equivalent to a Vicks vapour stick to soothe her dizziness (even if it was actually designed to unblock stuffy noses). Once we arrived, we took a look at the 309 naga-adorned steps to the temple and thought it would be a fun idea to race to the top. Despite the intense heat and bright sunlight. Of course, we would have to do our best to avoid the other stair-climbers and mutli-lingual begging kids, but Baptiste, Ilan and myself thought we'd give it a go. Probably a big mistake. Ilan got a head start, and then Baptiste and I charged on ahead. We were quick to overtake Ilan, and we were neck-and-necking it for the next 100 steps or so, but then I took the lead. However, about 200 steps in, I slowed to a virtual crawl, my stiff legs taking each step one by one with gradually slacking pace. Concerned Mr. B was just behind, I pressed on and reached the top, only to see that I was in fact a great deal ahead. Head pounding, legs aching and pores sweating, I staggered into the conveniently located shop to get bottles of water for the competitors, then slouched in the shade to await the rest of the party. Baptiste showed up and quickly headed to the lavvy for a quick vomit and Ilan, Am and Parn arrived together at a more intelligent pace. We got our entry tickets (well, the Thai nationals didn't have to, of course, and Ilan managed to get by with being Thai yet again) and proceeded inside.No sooner had we entered than I had to sit down - I hadn't recovered quite as much as I had thought, and was feeling quite dizzy and sick. At least it was a peaceful environment to recuperate, except for the occassional soft-ring of one of the numerous bells that surrounded the inner sanctum. Behind the temple was a wonderful purple blossom tree in front of a balcony ledge that would have offered a view to Chiang Mai if it were not for the fog - instead, it created a surreal experience of being so high up that we were surrounded by clouds. Inside the temple itself was a wonderful gold stepe and a variety of Buddhist sculptures. Am took the lead and gave us each candles and flowers which we carried as we walked around the stepe 3 times, reciting a different name to ourselves as we did. There were also different Buddhist statues to represent which day of the week you were born on, and one of those stick-shaky fortune telling things. I've forgotten the specifics of the corresponding slip that told of my future (though I remember it being pretty positive), but it was the number that struck me - 23. Now, I've always had a 'thing' about the number twenty-three, before I became aware of all the discordian belief theories and the Jim Carrey movie. And it had followed me to Thailand in a situation involving the telling of my future. Simple coincidence, or greater forces at work? Uhhhhh...the former. Or is it? Anyway, just as we were about to leave, we were sprung upon by a couple of local chancers who confronted Ilan, and this time her Thai appearance went against her, as they started speaking to her in Thai, apparently criticising her for not wearing suitable attire (even though they had ignored the skimpier Western tourists a few metres away). We upped and went with little hesitation.
Back in town, we stopped off for a big load of ice cream, but Ilan still wasn't feeling too well from the drive (and probably the stair race) and Baptiste made a mess on his arm and plopped much of a scoop on the floor like some excitable baby. However, there was then an unexpected turn of events in that Am's cousin had invited us to his house and then was to take us all out for dinner at the Riverside restaurant. Unfortunately, we were all very tired and suffering from varying degrees of illness. I'd kind of had enough of Thai food at that point, but it turned out while I was glancing at the menu at the tasty steaks and burgers, we'd already had our food ordered for us - another load of Thai dishes I couldn't stomach, plus a lot of beer to go with it. It was an exceedingly generous gesture, but we weren't in the mood, and the language barrier made it even harder to express at least something beyond a simple 'thanks'. Originally, the plan had been to stay and watch the live music, but the band didn't start playing until we had finished eating and we couldn't see them playing anyway. Basically, we didn't mean to be rude but that was clearly the impression we gave, and it didn't sit very well with any of us. It was a case of misplaced kindness, catching us at a bad time and not letting us have a say on what we wanted to do on our holiday. We called it a night around nine, but stayed up for hours in the hotel yakking away as we often did.
PACHYDERMATA AND SQUAMATA ENCOUNTERS
It was an early wake-up call for us all to take a trip to the Maesa Elephant Camp outside the city. However, by the time we got there, there wasn't going to be another show for a good few hours, so we decided to buy our tickets for later and backtrack to Mae Rim Snake Farm. Loud hip-hop and dance music played from the speakers and a giant billboard advertised it as being home to an anaconda wrestler as the star attraction. It later turned out he wasn't there at the moment as he had left with a number of specimens to be involved with the new Rambo flick, John Rambo, which was shooting in Thailand at the time. And having seen the latest preview, it seems Rambo is indeed spending his time tending to a snake farm of his own, before going back into action and exploding Burmese troops into big splats of grue. Anyway, we had a brief look around at the variety of serpents on offer, got briefly concerned by an empty cage, marvelled at the writhing tangled twists in the snake pit, and felt a little bit sad looking into the rabbit and chicken cages - luckily, we weren't around for feeding time, but we were just in time for the show.
The format of the show consisted of one guy pissing off a bunch of snakes while another commentated in a mix of Thai and hilarious English (of which I will add quotes to the description of the show). And scaring the audience witless. All of this took place in a little circular area, but the act would frequently be brought right up to the audience. Whether they liked it or not (and we were sat within easy reach). First off were three cobras, which he would tease and taunt until they made a go for him. "Oh, be careful Snakeman! Wawawawa BAN! Wawawawa BAN! Wow, Snakeman! Watch out Snakeman!" At one point, he even gave a cobra a tender kiss on the head. "Hey, he kiss the snake! Everybody take picture! Maybe he's homosexual!" He then proceeded to 'milk' the snake for venom and offer it to members of the audience if they wanted a sip. "It's not Johnnie Walker Blue Label!" Next were a trio of smaller snakes, which was a similar deal as before, except it culminated in him holding all three in his hands, with the neck of one in his mouth (if you can imagine a snake having a neck, considering they kind of are all neck). This was followed by the jumping snake. They made a big show of trying to get it out of the box, as if it were going to leap out at any moment. Then suddenly, something was flung in our direction, landing just by Ilan, causing her to let out a very long scream that did not die, even when it was revealed to be just a piece of rope. The jumping snake leapt about, latching on to the snake-wrangler's pantalons at one point, and even managed to slither out of the mini arena, towards the audience, a number of times. At one point, the wrangler hypnotised the snake and made it lie on it's back, before taking it round the audience for all to touch. It was indeed very still and calm, reminding me of the old chicken and chalk hypnosis trick. "Hey, don't worry if he bites - you die in 30 minutes, but hospital 20 minutes away!" Finally was the python ("Peetan!"), which offered up it's services to wrap around people's necks, and Parn happily obliged, as he also did having a smaller snake wrap around his head in laurel-esque fashion - not that Olly'd approve (see what I did there?). It was the kind of experience that flaunted so many safety measures that you wouldn't be able to get away with it in other parts of the world - but I guess it was all the more thrilling for it.
It was now about time to return to the elephant camp. Utenshu-san (our driver, if you recall) left us to go get some lunch first as, according to Parn, she hadn't had much of a breakfast. Okay, I thought, followed by WH-WH-WHAT? I'd been there at the breakfast buffet and she had loads! Ah, never mind. While we waited around, we got to look at some elephants! Elephants are pretty cool - like giant deformed cows really, and the smell of them (and their leavings) made me think of Somerset. Utenshu-san soon rejoined us and we were all set to go on a half-hour elephant ride around the park on top of the beasts. It was a little awkward sitting on a bench perched on a pachyderm rocking from side to side with your feet kind of nestling on it's neck with the 'driver' on the head. Not the most practical method of travel, but certainly one of the most fun I've been on. We went up and down hill, and into a little creek for a bit of splashing and trunk squirting. But by the end, I had a rather soggy, sweaty bum, which was a little unpleasant (why did I even mention it here?). Plus, my elephant was called Poo Billy.We finished in time for a Cornetto and for the elephant show. An initial parade of fifteen or so nellies of different sizes and ages welcomed the audience with bows, squeaks and trunk waving. Then came the performances, which ranged from simple instructions (like kneeling, picking up hats, doing funny dances and such) to more complex displays, in particular the football penalty shoot-out and the art showcase, as the trunked-ones painted a variety of images which were quickly snapped up by those prepared to pay a hefty price tag. At the end, we all got a chance to take a picture with the smaller ones, which left a big patch of slobber on my trouser leg. At least I didn't have to pose with any of the male elephants which were visibly 'excited' during the final parade.
We had a late lunch at the park (which Utenshu-san also helped herself to) and returned to the hotel to rest. Come dinner time, we left Baptiste behind to sleep in front of the TV, on the French language channel, and ended up at a little restaurant by a different night market close by. After spaghetti for lunch, it was time to have another Western dish to continue my Thai food break and I chose the chicken cordon bleu (which was, according to the menu, "raped in bread crums"). Suitably satisfied, we did a little market shopping before returning to the hotel, where we ate strawberries I'd bought, dipped in sugar, from a brandy glass (there's only so much serving preparation one can do in a hotel room).
For photos, check out my Parn's Facebook, Baptiste's Chiang Mai set, and, of course, my own sets for Doi Suthep Temple and Snakes and Elephants.
Coming Soon: my adventure reaches its end - goodybe to Chiang Mai, and return to Bangkok. Plus! Sesame massage! Ancient ruins! Horrible drunkenness!
