That's Wats Up...

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.

Big Girls Don't Cry

Positivity has never been my strong suit.

I believe sarcasm lends itself to hilarity, of course, but it can also slip into glass half full syndrome quite easily.

Given the current circumstances of my real life, not the one I am living out for a month in Southeast Asia, I almost feel entitled not to be positive and to bathe in my anger; bask in my disappointment.

Luckily, when feeling this lost you have those close to you, and sometimes those not, to help lift you out.

I have spent my late twenties and early thirties feeling rejected and abandoned by the loss of relationships with people I most certainly never thought I would lose. Some have hit harder and come at less opportune moments than others.

Having a month away doesn't mean real life stops. With modern technology and access to WiFi keeps one up to date on 'house sitters' who refuse to pay, piling bills that cannot be accessed internationally, and friends who have long kept count of your fallibility and infractions and it's all happening in real time. Add to this he feeling of impotence only being 10,000 miles away from home could invoke.

Sitting on the pier watching the sun sink into the sky on my last night in Krabi after visiting some beaches, eating some food and being a general bad-ass on my motorbike that I would like to sneak into my carry on, I am trying something new.

I am trying not to focus on the bad, the negative, and in turn I am trying to appreciate the warmth of the evening and  say thank you to the friends that pick up when I call crying from across the globe and tell me they love me. It is their confidence in me, as well as my own I must focus on because, without my biggest cheerleader here to support me any longer, I simply have to do it for myself. Just like tying your shoes, but for big girls.

Despite my melancholy I truly did enjoy my last day in Krabi, spending most of it getting my motor running and hitting the highway on my sporty purple and orange crotch rocket. Always having a disdain for motorcycles after a family accident that took place before I was born, I now see the appeal and feel that I just may have to make a scooter my first motorized vehicle in over a decade.

Having rented the bike for the entire day I finally made my way to Ao Nang which, though populated by many an old, fat white tourists was not nearly as bad as many of the hippies back at my commune would have had you believe.

I got some color (see: freckles) , and made another attempt at Pad Thai at a small local restaurant, coming to the conclusion that my favorite restaurant in the city by the bay just, hands down, has the best Thai food in the world.

After showering, packing and finding a book in the backpackers library that wasn't missing the first 3 chapters I hopped on my bike to make it to the Terrace, a near by restaurant that is situated on top of a hill looking out at the water, but because it was night I got the watch the blue and purple flashes of lightning that come with a balmy rainstorm in the tropics as I consumed my banana fritters and pulp fiction.

Some bonding with the staff at Krabi was had, as was some window shopping in their on site store that made me feel like a waif, so I loved it - but not enough to purchase anything and I was off to bed. A restless sleep an hour at a time, checking my phone, dealing with business back at home and finally, at 5 am, rising to catch a cab to the airport with two other American girls who had been at the Banana Bungalow for the past couple nights and were far too cute for their own good.

I hear people both question and commend me when I tell them I am traveling alone, especially in the third world country, and even more so when I mention how long I will be gone. I suppose both of these groups of people are right. It is freeing and wonderful to do your own thing, have time for yourself and explore the world with just your camera in hand. That being said, it can be lonely and sad and expensive without someone to share costs or moments.

Maybe this is like life, there are pros and cons to the traditional family and the single life, but I think we can all agree that life, like cake, it's better shared.

Sure, I share, through my blog, and text messages.

The past 31 countries were shared, through phone calls largely with a very specific person and though physically I was always on my own, those phone calls, fraught with affection and perspective are missed dearly and felt deeply.

Now, I need to learn a new way to travel - either completely on my own with no safety net - or with actual people. No longer is there an in between.

So I move forward, as I did when I boarded the Air Asia flight to Chiang Mai in the north of the country known for it's indigenous people and beautiful scenery.

Here for a week I will be reuniting with a fellow traveler met in Bangkok who seems to want to take every course or lesson Thailand has to offer, so we will see how my bank roll holds out and how much authentic culture in which I can immerse myself.


Thus far I have located a Burger King. So that is a start.

So we shall see what my time in Chiang Mai brings...

The following night Chiang Mai brought BK. I'm sorry, but sometimes you just gotta have it your way.

My first day in CM was mellow, some eating, some souvenir acquisition, some ambivalence about life on general, only being further perpetuated by the culture of 2 parts old white men in Tommy Bahama or biker adjacent attire, 1 part young, though not disturbingly so, Asian women wearing Wet Seals' latest fashions and 1 part classic rock that makes it all seem somehow legit, like the old man from Wisconsin is having a deep, meaningful relationship with the young lady from Phuket.

Some wandering after my pork burger from the BK at which the cashier understood and delivered better on my order than any American ever has led me to streets of sex tourism at it's best which, even at it's best is the worst.

Meandering led me down some sketchy alleyways which, as a single woman with thousands of dollars worth of equipment in my bag should never navigate, I did. I simply wouldn't be Briana if I didn't.

Shortly thereafter I was safely deposited at the Royal Guest House just across the way from Chiang Mai City. A city housed withing ancient brick walls and consisting of a threading of streets fraught with Wats, goods for sale, and translucent people in southeast Asia's version of resort wear. It was fast to sleep with a page-turning book, and overhead light that made me feel like I was starring in 'Broke Down Palace' and a fan I feared would come loose at any moment and sever a major artery.

I have had strange dreams throughout Thailand and was awoken several times before finally rising in search of yoga, but settling on a run and some calisthenics essentially beside the highway here.

A quick yet unsatisfying breakfast and shower were had before heading to the Post Office where the severely physically disabled employee treated me like I was a leper, barely selling me stamps for my postcards.

Decideing to wander about to the temples and into shops I was pleasantly surpirsed when I entered the gtes of Wat Phan, built in 1501 when the city's arts and culture were flourishing and was met with it's exquisite beauty and, in turn, a moment of gratitude. It went just as quickly as it came, but as I so easily dismiss the good and focus on the bad, or so I've been told, that decided to make note of this brief moment in time. And write it down.

The architectural center warranted a visit for my future very successful architect nephew, but the 'center' was appalling when all you really have to do is look around. Luckily Wat Phantao lifted my spirits with its multicolored lanterns and flags waving proudly in the wind. I was so entranced by the sea of color that the competitive Japanese photographer studying my moves just a little too closely didn't even bother me. As an artist, I feel secure that we know when we got it - and I had it. He could shoot all he wanted on his Nikon. He didn't stand a chance against me and my Canon!

All of this site seeing works up an appetite and after sweating off of noodles yesterday after a sub-par glass noodle I incident, I found a cute little place on the other side of town and had ... Noodles. But this time they were Khao Soi noodles, Chiang Mai noodles so it was for cultural reasons more than dietary. The restaurant also played host to a couple of charming American and Canadian men respectively and even a brief chat with some men in my native tongue brightened my day.

Being asked if I was Spanish just the other day, I chose to indulge in my faux culture and take a siesta, and my acquired goods, back at the hostel.

After night had fallen I went back out to hit the streets for super sexy time like leafing through the book stores, an industry this city apparently has more of than anything else. Lost Books had two locations, an Irish proprietor and sections devoted to both Nietzsche and Kerouac, so as far as I am concerned it should garner Wat status.

Cashew chicken was greedily consimed across the street at Kat's Cafe and I got my Skype on, most certainly annoying my fellow patrons.

As I come 'home' to rest my weary head, I am met with my Bangkok buddy and as we both seem to have had pretty action packed days. It is off to bed.

Tomorrow, Chiang Rai and beyond...