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.

Rainy Days and The Sterilization of Be Heard

Rain rain go away come again some other day, like when I'm back in America!

Rain when in a tropical paradise is a bummer, but I suppose if we love those lush green picturesque postcards we have to deal with a little rain.

With rainy season having only ended a number of days ago, and the Bananas Bungalow opening it's doors just this month a little rain is bound to fall and, when it does it is absolutely going to effect one's trip.

It seemed that the mornings were safest and with drizzle on the horizon, literally, I decided after a breakfast of pancake, banana and honey (quickly becoming my new fave) that I would rent one of the relics in the driveway known as a bicycle and take a spin around town to take some photos and clear my mind. This loner excursion quickly became a couples activity as my dorm-mate by way of Germany, who reminds me of someone from my past, and no that is not a compliment, invited herself along.

When someone says - you're going for a bike ride? I am going to come along. Is that ok? - what are your options, really? So off we went on wobbly wheels and rusted frames. Speaking of frames, home girl managed to make we way into 90% of mine, photographically speaking, not through any fault of her own, but with not standing behind me and not understanding the concept of a wide angle lens, you may see a very pale woman with short shorts and surgically enhanced pectorals in some of my shots. There was just no way around it.

I sort of just wanted to wander the winding roads.

The grass is so green, the cows so brown, the dirt so red that it appears as if a box of crayolas have spilled out onto the hills, grown damp and smeared a kaleidoscope of colors along the countryside.

Clearly I was after a poetic experience but Fräulein short shorts was a bit more regimented and was determined to get us to the lounging Buddha about 15 kilometers from our humble abode. However, on a bike that is unsafe for both your joints and your reproductive system, and the narrow seat is rearranging my remaining eggs, 15k seems like forever.

We rode for about 2 hours before giving up or merely choosing to head back in the direction from which we came. I made a quick stop at a local restaurant for a pineapple/watermelon shake and some empassioned business calls back home and, much like the day before, the bulk of my day's activities were done before 2 and I was left to shower and hide from the rain utilizing both my laptop and the few books I brought along to keep me occupied.

After several hours of paying bills online and alternating between books Klaus, the patriarch to the German family staying here (there are a lot of Germans here) suggested a field trip to the local Tesco, almost an hour away. He needed supplies for his girls and wanted to save on cab fare so he somehow managed to get 8 other people on board who didn't really need to do anything in town bu,t who had cabin fever and were eager for an adventure of any sort.

We loaded into an open sided bus for an hour long cab ride and, just to prove how familial this hostel had become in the rain, or simply how much I've given up, I didn't even bother putting on a bra to go shopping.

Shopping proved fruitless as all of the books were in Thai and all of the food stuffs were indistinguishable, but the Target adjacent superstore layout was fascinating.

Perusing the latest fashions while smelling the district smell of fish, and lots of it just inches away which, next to it had colorful octopus cookies kitty corner from dozens of dead lifeless fish bodies was an experience to say the least.

A small package of cookies at one of the kiosks was all I could muster the energy to buy and most of us left empty handed as we headed home for dinner, a spicy shrimp curry tonight that left the crowd pleased with mouths on fire.

Being lazy is almost as exhausting as being left alone with your thoughts so I put scrubs on early and after some text chatting with my big sis, I was out like a light.

My alarm was set for 5 am the following morning and by 5:15 I was on the back of a bike with Klaus at the helm and we were determined to climb the Tiger Cave Temples' infamous 1300 steps to the top. We wanted to beat the heat and he wanted to get back before his family woke so they could all start their day together leaving us with no choice but to get on the road before the sun rose.

We hadill  fitting helmets and a shoddy map to help decipher the appropriate road to the temple. Perhaps it was these two factors that led us in the opposite direction and attempting to climb any stairs we could find. We did end up at the lounging Buddha near the state park I had attempted to locate the day prior. We hadn't thought that one out clearly and after a couple quick shots of the gilted god we hopped back on the scooter and headed through Krabi to the Tiger Cave Temple.

Needing to inquire as to the appropriate direction on more than one occasion we finally made it and it was still early and cool.

1300 steps didn't sound so tough to me seeing as I became a triathlete in the not so distant past, but trust me, when stairs were built in BC they are as high as your knee and you will quickly discover what an American fat ass you are.

Klaus was kind and patient as he hopped along like this was some school yard game. We made it to the top in under 30 minutes and man was it worth it.

A 360 degree view of the vibrantly green surroundings, a random dog guarding the top and a lot of monkeys I was pretty sure wanted to be my friend were to be found.

I had never really encountered monkeys in the wild and I quickly became an excitable school girl at her first One Direction concert. If the monkeys and dog hadn't had beef and the master monkey in charge didn't look like he could tear my flesh from bone I for sure would have bonded with the primates.

It soon became clear that the dog was here to protect us and that my love for animals transcends language, as the black and white pup followed us all 1300 steps down and cut any potential monkey encounter off at the pass, like the protective older brother I always wanted but never had, it was frustrating but sweet.

After our extended experience and second day of vehicular sterilization in a row, my crotch needed a break and we had to get back to the hostel for Klaus to meet his family and me to wash the mountain funk from my increasingly freckled face.

Seeing as I had the motorbike rented for the whole day I thought, why not face my fear and ignore my lady part pain and actually drive one of these bad boys - and that is exactly what I did. After a quick change and a quick tutorial on gas and break, I was off. First to get gas which required the help of a local and the off to Ao Nang.

As I've stated before when I am traveling is likely the only time I am at ease and the fact that somewhere along the way I seem to have missed the turn off to Ao Nang didn't bother me a bit. I took the added time on the road to get comfortable with speed and take in the sights.

There were small villages who's children came rushing out to say good morning, in English, as they don't see many folks like me in these parts and there were many, many stray dogs, some of whom seem to have been Aronofsky fans as they were fully ass to ass.

I even got picked up on while in movement on the highway by a man who turned  his bike around to talk to me yet didn't talk to me at all, as he didn't speak or understand a single syllable of English. Thank you strange man for making me feel like I still internationally got it!
It was a lovely experience and though I didn't have a destination per se, after lots of back and forth I ended up in Krabi Town which looks very different during the day.

I stopped in for some lunch, ordering whatever the waiter recommended and, in turn, having my first green curry.  It had chicken and a vegetable I couldn't pick out in a lineup - nonetheless it was delicious.

A long ride back with the 'Begin Again' soundtrack in my ear was when I really hit my stride on the bike and the sun came out in appreciation.

With my first chance for vitamin D in days, once I returned, I dropped trow and headed to the pier for some reading and relaxation before the storm inevitably set in again.

Family dinner was bland but the little girls here have really warmed up to me and when playing with children I don't actually think the language barrier poses much of a problem. Or I am learning German through osmosis.

Every so often, waiting out the rain reaps rewards and when I woke this morning the skies were clear and the sun was calling, beckoning me to the sandy shores and tempting me with promises of bronzed skin and pre-cancerous melanoma.

The Bananas has directions to two local beaches in it's lobby and feeling as though I should take advantage of the sun as long as I had it I was off with laminated instructions in hand to find either the Coconut Beach and the Secret Beach. When faced with those two options I think the choice is pretty clear.

Secret Beach was more descriptive than clever because as I walked for about an hour in the increasing morning heat, schlepping my two bags I couldn't find the bastard. I walked down each and every 'dirt path' I could find and mostly they just led to nowhere.

Defeated and more than a tad annoyed I headed back 'home' to consult the trusty Lonely Planet that I have barely cracked on this voyage but that I always like to tote around for good measure.

Just as I began to leaf through the newsprint pages Andrew, a volunteer here at the hostel by way of the UK, offered to drive me there on his motorbike - my prince in shining tank top.

As I was led down the road, up a hill and through the forest to grandmother's house it became quite clear that there is no way I could have navigated this path on my own and, after some sneaky barbed wired scaling and descending from the side of a mountain - there were were. At high tide.

11 am is high tide and that leaves about 6 inches of beach to enjoy. Andrew was kind enough to go exploring for rocks and shells as I took some photos of the orange and lavender speckled rocks and bathed myself in the Adaman Sea. After an hour or so he offered to drop me at Coconut, which he insisted I should be able to locate myself from the road side, on his way back to work.

Usually possessing a keen sense of direction, this place is bonkers with people literally gesturing in a general direction as an aid in times of navigatory trouble.

I did find a beach, nestled behind an outdoor bar and as I laid in the sun and enjoyed the breeze for several hours I had nothing but sad music and happy crabs to keep me company. It was quiet and serene and beautiful and, just like all good things. It came to an end. An end by way of torrential rainstorm that set in almost the moment I stepped off the beach to walk the several miles back to my hostel.

I took cover next to a couple of beautiful peacocks, all of us ready to bolt at the first sign of clear sky and, after 30 minutes or so I decided to just go for it - put my clothes in a bag, wrapped myself in the Thai fabric I had brought as a beach towel and, doing my best Gaugin impression, looking more like a native Thaitian woman wandering down the roads in thongs and a colorful wrap, long brown locks hanging low in the rain.

With the kindness of a local bus driver I was deposited back at Bananas in time to shower, put on my MJ sweatshirt and get ready for some grub. With only one day left in Krabi, and having fallen a bit in love with the place, I feel confident saying that this is on my 'may return someday' list.