Thwack!
That's one way to wake up and the exact sound my head made smacking against the inside window of a passenger van that I had booked for a day trip to Chiang Rai, an apparent must see when you're in the north.
The previous night my roomie for the week arrived late and despondent as the airline lost his luggage. We chatted for a while, both seeming to be on this trip as a sort of escape from the reality of losing a parent, both seeming to feel a similar displacement by it.
7 am same awfully early.
I had booked this trip on a whim last night, not knowing where homeboy may have ended up and not wanting to spend another day aimlessly wandering the streets of Chiang Mai.
When I saw a multi-stop all day trip for 1100 baht it seemed like a what the hell choice and a kind man named Singh signed me up.
In the van for the day were a pairing of Frenchies though I could not determine their relation, 3 Japanese tourists with expensive camera equipment and a young Spanish couple the female member of whom was dressed so inappropriately at for a Buddhist county and for the Wat we were slated to visit, I quickly turned into my mother - over and over again throughout the day. Her bra was exposed and her skirt quite short, it was ridiculous. Trust me, in New York this assessment of her would be brazenly hypocritical but in Thailand you just look like a hoe.
I'm fairly certain she thought I was an old lesbian PE teacher of some sort because not only was I dressed quite conservatively and unfashionably but she and her beau caught me on more than one occasion eying her up and down and maybe they read in my big brown eyes that she was in need of physical education. Skinny fat is just not hot.
Not a huge fan of 'tours' I threw caution to the wind and jumped on board this one to get ... Exactly what I had been leery of. An orchestration of stops to buy shit sealed in plastic and be shuffled from vendor to vendor as if this somehow signifies an authentic cultural experience.
Our first stop was the 'hot springs' an hour outside of CM which was a rest stop with a sole shooting tunnel of hot, sulfur scented water. We had 20 minutes there to get out our selfie sticks and gather the family around the water hole that smelled like ass with time to spare to buy keychains and chopsticks till our heart's content. I may or may not have purchased a pair of Muay Thai boxing shorts for a certain someone with whom I share a drop of DNA - don't judge.
Then is was off, to another destination and to sleep. This time when I was awakened by our lady boy guide, Sherry, or Sherry West as I have deemed her. I find the West to be a needed addition, as after every sentence uttered through her pearly whites and inexplicable 'uegh' sound escaped her mouth. Each and every sentence. I have expected naked Kim K to come rolling down the street laying atop a motorcycle to the sweet sounds of Sherry's lyrical stylings at any moment.
Having seen pictures of the White Temple in Chaing Rai it looks impressive - and though not a spiritual experience on any level (it's owned by a prominent sports figure in Thailand and is also surrounded by shops - nor was there a monk to be seen) the shear beauty of the all white architectural feat is worth the trip. It's impressive. It's grand. It's art. Or ... it's Facebook fodder if you're anything like the 700 tourists who were there when I was literally being herded through the property by men in uniforms with bullhorns.
Do you think when the ancient Romans built the coliseum, the Chinese the Great Wall and the British Big Ben they were doing so to create a selfie spot for the narcissistic and unappreciative culture to come and pay homage with their big face taking up more than two-thirds of the screen?
I think not.
Off my soap box - the temple was beautiful and, like so many places I've seen here - crying out for multi-spread fashion editorial. I have no idea why I've never seen these locations in print.
Back in the van and back to open mouthed, head back sleeping, huge noggin swaying gently to and fro in unison with the windy roads and we find ourselves at The Golden Triangle which, when I heard was the spot where Thailand, Laos and Myanmar meet, I was sort of stoked.
What I wasn't privy to is a ticket onto the boat to hop over to Laos is not included in the price of our already expensive adventure and in turn it would be another 300 baht to see the casinos that kitty corner one another in this three way.
I feel as though I've paid to be taken on a tour of places where I am meant to pay for memorabilia of this place I'm not really seeing - and I am hungry, dammit!
Buffet lunch was consumed at half past two (we had been on the road since 7am) and I was famished, so imagine my disappointment when the plateful of fried rice I served myself was unpalatable - and coming from a hungry me, that's a lot.
Some pleasantries were exchanged with everyone but the Spaniards and I was done. I was tired, my belly hurt - and there was still one stop on this sterilized sojourn - the Long Neck tribe.
That's right, those women you see in National Geographic with the elegant rings around there neck eventually making them unable to hold up their own cranium - those are the Long Neck Tribe and we were slated for a little meet and greet.
The Long Neck tribe is disturbingly beautiful. We've all seen photos of these exotic women with played necks but there comes a sadness in their eyes and in my heart when it feels as though their culture has been reduced to a series of tourist shop goods being peddled to fanny-packed and teva'd folks from all over the globe that photograph their children with morbid curiosity and cultural naïveté.
I'm not claiming in any way to be above this. I myself took a handful of photos, always asking for permission first and bought two cotton woven scarves half of our admiration of their loveliness, use of color and handiwork and half out of privileged guilt I only very rarely experience.
Strange as it was to go, I am glad I did and it was the last stop before turning back for what turned out to be a very long and very windy road to Chiang Mai with a driver who thought he was Vivien and this car cornered like it was on rails (a reference perhaps only my sister will appreciate) - I assure you it did not.
By the time I got back to my hostel I was green at the gills and as I promised my roommate I needed I close my eyes for just a moment to regain my composure, I was out. Out in all of my clothes with the lights on till morning sort of out.
It was in the morning I was met with drama filled text messages from back home - as I have noted- I have been dealing with my entire trip. I will not purport that this trip has led me on some sort of spiritual journey or that I've become a Ghandi or Lennon aficionado, but I will say life is so much better when we do what we say we will do, maintain a life of integrity and treat others with kindness. Having allowed two people in my life, and my home who lack any of these skills or traits hasabsolutely greyed me over the past few weeks and disappointed me with how vile human beings can be when they only think of themselves and their own dishonesty.
Moving on.
Though I had hoped to spend the day with my Canadian boy toy for the week, he, as I had the night just before, booked a trip without the other - so he was off to dance with wolves, and elephants, and I was left to my own devices.
This often leads to trouble.
Today the trouble seems to be mostly for my bank account. With finances alarmingly in peril back in the states (see:vile individuals) I thought in a city filled with bright colors as shiny gold - why not shop?
Choosing to walk East, in the opposite direction of Chiang Mai City, to see what it would yield I found yet another book shop and, when the first title I picked up was set on Los Angeles I saw it as a sign and immediately purchased this James Frey tome, ignoring his long ago Oprah controversy and stashing the paperback in my camera bag.
Passing lovely ceramic and embroidery shops along the way I picked up a couple of gifts for loved ones, something I tend to do in excess on these long trips, and landed at my now favorite Wat in all of Thailand.
Way Buppharam is a gilded ornate Wat, like many others but having out on a sleeveless dress that hit above the knees today I knew Wat was up ( I couldn't resist) and was aware that I would not be able to enter any temples today looking like a western temptress. I took off my shoes, and climbed the red and gold steps, past the sleeping dog to a man and a monk. The wat had a balcony of sorts and I gesticulated, while asking in English of I could walk the perimeter, as I knew I wasn't allowed inside when the older man, in lightly accented English said - why wouldn't you be able to come in? I motioned to my bare arms and he said nonsense an ushered me in.
There was a green and blue altar, looking like something out of 'The Little Mermaid,' which was unlike one I have seen elsewhere and the kindness of the old man in front bathed the building in light in a way the afternoon sun never could.
Down the road even further I found an amazing skirt and some fetch earrings for me and my Bestie - so it was a spiritual experience soup to nuts!
Having the only key to room 402, I knew I had to meet my Mounty (Canadian) back at the Royal Guesthouse between 5 and 7 and spent those hours lounging and digging into my new piece of fiction before his arrival back 'home.' He shared pictures of his exciting day and I listened intently. He showered and primped, making sure there was not a lock out of place and we were out into the significantly cooler night air, walking through the city looking for eats. It is always a joy to meet a nice man in my age range. I don't know if New York has hardened me or life has simply got me down, but a breath of fresh air is happily inhaled when you encounter what seems like a genuinely kind human being. The fact that he and I could share about our parental tragedies both with words and unspoken emotion only intensified this meeting of the minds in Thailand.
We found a spot that looked like nothing special, but touted 35 baht meals and was situated next to a jazz band singing American jazz standards with very thick Asian accents. Greeted by a lady who did not speak English and a Pomeranian who was clearly so well fed that he resembled a donut hole more than an animal we shared a meal and an amazing iced tea heavily drenched in sugar and enjoyed an evening in Chiang Mai, together.
Taking the long way home led us back toward the sexy time district and I almost needed to rent a wheelbarrow to accompany my jaw. I consider myself a fairly worldly women. I've been some places, I have seen some things. I have been hard to shock, surprise or excite since birth, but there is something about sex workers that fascinates me in a way no other subculture does.
I wanted to walk up to these young women draped on stools at Tijuana knock off bars or the Lady Boys in the street with too much foundation and talk to them. Ask why they chose this. Do they get scared? What is it like? I also wanted to take each and every woman's portrait - but either I am savvy enough to know that is frowned upon or frightened enough to not ask. The men are another level of shock and awe and depressing lonliness. Where is Diane Sawyer when I need her for an in depth expose on sexy time in Thailand?
Feeling like a woman, and not in a Shania Twain sort of way, I had acquiesced to the activity to which my male counter part seemed most excited and gotten tickets to the tiger spot up north and a monkey show. I was suspect, but he seemed happy and I thought it would be fun to so something with someone, so I was on board.
At 8:30 a man with a white Honda and predilection for Hello Kitty picked us up and brought us out to the Tiger Kingdom to see the tigers. I will say that, though I had done this outside of Bangkok, the tigers here looked much happier and none had chains around their necks, so it was a nice change of pace. Of course, we opted for the package which allowed us to see the babies and the big bitches and spent WAY too much, but I can now say I have spooned a 200+ pound tiger = priceless.
The monkey show was another thing all together. When you enter it is called the 'Monkey School' and there is an adorable Marcel knock off in a tiny cage on a table looking forlorn, which I find in the animal kingdom can be easily mistaken for excited.
The show is 30 minutes of monkeys whose faces so closely resemble those of human beings you can almost envisions the slave trade as these beautiful creatures, rings and ropes around necks stare deep into your eyes, almost begging for salvation before being asked to perform their next task of playing basketball or riding a bicycle. The vapid crowd seemed intrigued but it hurt my heart. After the show, which is on repeat you can walk around to where dozens of animals are so tightly chained to their posts they cannot even walk in 360 degree circles.
I am sure everyone will be happy to bring home their Polaroid of a monkey on their lap from their Thai holiday - but at what cost?
Sadness in my heart, I was now back in the Honda and we were careening through the streets back to Chiang Mai so that my little Canadian bacon could take a nap and I could have my 500th order of pancake with banana and honey and write this here.
Tonight is the Sunday Walk - a weekly market in town where things are meant to be cheap, but I believe that the mere rumor that everything here is so cheap leads people to believe they are spending pennies - that is until they get home and check their back accounts.
Being the anal tight wad I am proud to be, I have checked my account plenty - and trust me - its a whole lot more than pennies.
Till next time.
