Inspired by an epic nightime advenutre with my new Bostonian musician artist friend, I am starting up a tourist attraction at a bargain price!
BHT 50 per person, group of 4 or more BHT 150, group of 10 or more BHT 500
Please bring with you:
- footwear
- money for 7-11
You may also wish to bring:
- gloves
- helmet
- umbrella
- stick
We pick you up straight from bar of you choice!
The tour start with a long walk, in any direction of your choice. You may go down big streets and alleyways, climb over walls, and you might meet some people of your enjoyment, at any of these bars:
- Heaven Place - live music every night, free toilet
- Babylon - is it an airport waiting room?
- Roots & Reggae - watch your bag :)
If these are not to your taste, beer can be bought from a small shop close by, and also Strawberry Custard Cake! (I don't know how to embed pictures in my blog, please help)
Then you can walk some more, heading southwest. If you need a restroom, wade into the long grass and do what is required. You can use your stick to beat any snakes.
Meanwhile, when the park is closed, you must climb over the fence of Suan Buak Haad, , a very nice and beautiful park with enourmous fish and (probably) kaymans in the water. Do you like to swim? You like adventure! Now is a chance to relax by the water and look at the dark.
Soon, you will be at a relax and rejuvination so that you will wish to climb again, over the fence and up the old wall. Wear gloves if necessary, the grass is barbed. This is a fun challenge to make your way up the beautiful city wall, used in ancient times to keep out vicious invading tribes. From this place you can see many views:
- Doi Suthep (good weather only)
- Esso
- 7-11
- billboard
- road
This is an especial place for lovers of moats, since it is here where you can see the bottom very clearly, if it is shallow or dried. See every biology, where the scum washes on the rocks. The walk continues along the moat, where you can see many types of trees and flora. If it rains like a power shower, there may be a rest under a shop front.
Feeling hungry? The tour meanders to a night market, where delicious gelatinous jewels meet your desires. Authentic sticky blue rice is just right for a nightime treat, with free shrimp sugar. Still hungry? If you like meat, this will be an exception. See the pig head, and the piles of red and brown. Take in all of your senses, the knives deftly hacking at grizzle and intestine. Feel free to handle the produce.
At last the tour reaches a conclusion. You may wish to continue your tour alone at no extra cost, just find a free map provided at many places in Chiang Mai.
We await your custom!
Monday, 26 September 2011
Sexytainment
After work on Saturday, which was a painful morning of attempting to throttle out even a grunt in English followed by an afternoon of pretending to be tigers and bears with 6 year olds, I song teawed it to Wororot Market, the one sandwiched between Chinatown and the river. It seemed everyone was closing up their stalls as I walked through, but I managed to try a steaming hot completely delicious banana with sticky rice wrapped in palm leaf, grilled to perfect sweetness and chewy texture. Sticky fingers on the street, I walked past stores selling incence, flowers and chillis in bulk, others hawking terrible frilly shirts size 6 only, "no try on." I found a barbeque on wheels setting up, and I haven't been so adventurous with scary-looking food (see reaction to fried bugs, previous), so I ordered a tiny white squid on a stick. It had a surprising inner texture of fresh mucous, and the outer flesh was a kind of edible fish rubber. I ate its crispy little tentacles and threw the rest away. Meanwhile, as I endured this experience, it was getting dark. The streets I had only just walked down, looking urgently for work clothes before they shut, were lit up and full of new vendors. I'm sure I walked the same four streets at least twice, they were changed each time. Cheap tat for miles, gaudy, colourful and glittering. I saw a man set up his stall by pouring out a bucket of enourmous plastic jewelled rings onto a cloth and spreading them out a bit.
I got some coconut juice, which made me suddenly in love as I looked over the bridge of the Mae Ping, seeing the bank lit up by tiny hanging lamps in the trees. There was even a clear sky. The taxi drove me back home the long way, down a dark winding road of bowing palm leaves hanging over garden walls, with the occasional light from a bar made of corrugated iron, plastic canvas and bamboo poles all roped together.
If you are reading this then we definately love each other.
I got some coconut juice, which made me suddenly in love as I looked over the bridge of the Mae Ping, seeing the bank lit up by tiny hanging lamps in the trees. There was even a clear sky. The taxi drove me back home the long way, down a dark winding road of bowing palm leaves hanging over garden walls, with the occasional light from a bar made of corrugated iron, plastic canvas and bamboo poles all roped together.
If you are reading this then we definately love each other.
Monday, 19 September 2011
Amy Asks Too Many Questions, But Her Feet Are Wise
Quick update on my emotional state: I am stressed, homesick, tired, irritated by most westerners, in awe of the tropics, curious, inquisitive (is that an emotion?), grateful. There.
Suddenly I have 25 hours of work a week. So much for a 3-day silent retreat in some temple up some mountain. Lesson plan lesson plan flashcards simon says names of animals of numbers of months of the year of days of the week. Six-year-olds are ace, even the day after a very fun birthday celebration. They will be mental, chucking cushions at each other, falling over, shouting shouting, and as soon as you get a box of coloured pencils out, they go silent. Language schools are a good place to start, lots of small classes with all diferent ages. Administration is hectic confusing, lots of pink slips and green slips and even a punch card, like in a factory. For now, it'll do.
Thai people are just as smiley as everyone says. People greet you on the street, when you get into the same song teaw as them, and when they drive by on the road in the car next to you. Everyone says hello, and once you get talking to people, seeing them around a few times, they all want to help you learn Thai and teach you to draw.
In the past three days, a man has tried to snatch my purse (the indecency!),I've eaten a third of my weight in Japanese food at a buffet, I've been to an orchid and butterfly farm with the inimitable Amy, who also dared me to eat fried bugs, which were a grasshopper, a silk worm, a maggot, and a beetle. The maggots were long and crispy, void of taste. The silk worm was perhaps the least appetizing thing I've had in my mouth ever. Imagine crunchy burned leggy fish-tasting bits coating your tongue, getting caught in your molars. I've had an authentic Thai massage from an old blind man, who said I felt like a man, like a plank of wood. Ta. I went swimming in a lake by the mountain, so warm, so quiet, beauty beauty. I've played Jenga in the Griffin Bar (Moon Mueng Soi 7) with Egg and Amy, every night.
Amy was going to stay in Chiang Mai for a night and then go back to Pai, but she stayed here to play for my birthday. It was a dead good birthday. We arrived at the Reggae Bar early, so it was empty. We had a horrible pink cocktail. Then a Thai man with a dredlocked beard and many tattoos started chatting us up with the kind of abuse that's supposed to be funny. Then his mate Yawee showed up and it was his birthday too (the gayest man in Thailand, from Miami, got his nails done that day, and the tatooed man had no idea his best mate was queer, ("never, I never do that, why you say that, it disgusting"). So one small glass of strong clear liquid followed another and then it was two hours later and the band was singing us Happy Birthday. I woke up the next morning with all the lights on, but all of my clothes folded neatly in the cupboard.
I have an address now, send me a message if you wannit.
Suddenly I have 25 hours of work a week. So much for a 3-day silent retreat in some temple up some mountain. Lesson plan lesson plan flashcards simon says names of animals of numbers of months of the year of days of the week. Six-year-olds are ace, even the day after a very fun birthday celebration. They will be mental, chucking cushions at each other, falling over, shouting shouting, and as soon as you get a box of coloured pencils out, they go silent. Language schools are a good place to start, lots of small classes with all diferent ages. Administration is hectic confusing, lots of pink slips and green slips and even a punch card, like in a factory. For now, it'll do.
Thai people are just as smiley as everyone says. People greet you on the street, when you get into the same song teaw as them, and when they drive by on the road in the car next to you. Everyone says hello, and once you get talking to people, seeing them around a few times, they all want to help you learn Thai and teach you to draw.
In the past three days, a man has tried to snatch my purse (the indecency!),I've eaten a third of my weight in Japanese food at a buffet, I've been to an orchid and butterfly farm with the inimitable Amy, who also dared me to eat fried bugs, which were a grasshopper, a silk worm, a maggot, and a beetle. The maggots were long and crispy, void of taste. The silk worm was perhaps the least appetizing thing I've had in my mouth ever. Imagine crunchy burned leggy fish-tasting bits coating your tongue, getting caught in your molars. I've had an authentic Thai massage from an old blind man, who said I felt like a man, like a plank of wood. Ta. I went swimming in a lake by the mountain, so warm, so quiet, beauty beauty. I've played Jenga in the Griffin Bar (Moon Mueng Soi 7) with Egg and Amy, every night.
Amy was going to stay in Chiang Mai for a night and then go back to Pai, but she stayed here to play for my birthday. It was a dead good birthday. We arrived at the Reggae Bar early, so it was empty. We had a horrible pink cocktail. Then a Thai man with a dredlocked beard and many tattoos started chatting us up with the kind of abuse that's supposed to be funny. Then his mate Yawee showed up and it was his birthday too (the gayest man in Thailand, from Miami, got his nails done that day, and the tatooed man had no idea his best mate was queer, ("never, I never do that, why you say that, it disgusting"). So one small glass of strong clear liquid followed another and then it was two hours later and the band was singing us Happy Birthday. I woke up the next morning with all the lights on, but all of my clothes folded neatly in the cupboard.
I have an address now, send me a message if you wannit.
Tuesday, 13 September 2011
Paradise Direct
May I introduce the sexpat. You will know him by his flip flops dragging across the polished floor of the 7-11, his bald patch, his thin white vest. He sits at the front of restaurants that serve 100 baht burgers, leaning over to the waitresses nearby, telling them about America, telling them that he needs them to help him out. He is glassy-eyed, slack-mouthed and flake-skinned. Usually he carries a plastic shopping bag in one hand, a cane in the other. A skinny girl will follow a couple of steps behind. If you walk around a few sois after 8pm you'll hear her "hee hee hee!" echo down the alley.
And so I have landed back in Chiang Mai, which is really very nice, except for holes in the pavement and some funny smells. I've just come back from 26 hours in Pai, the mythical laid back mountain town. No funny business here please, there is a mosque. Four boys and I took a bus through spiralling jungle roads, bumping past towering green pulsing city of plant life twisting all sexy around everything, all of it growing on top of itself. Flowers hang open like mouths. Tiny houses made out of bamboo and palm leaves are being slowly eaten by the land. Mountains appeared suddenly, vastly, yawning out into the grey horizon. Rice fields and brown cows, then little huts behind big signs that say PAI IN LOVE, HAPPY HOUSE, SWEET DREAMS. We arrived at the tiny bus station and walked down the road, past little restaurants offering coffee and fried eggs. We checked in to the Riverside, all bamboo huts and hammocks.
We rented motorcycles, yes dad that is what we did, and I rode with a helmet on the back with a boy who had been riding motorcycles since he was 12. And he slowed down when I asked him to. I am unscathed, unlike one of the others who crashed into a car next to the rental place, burned his leg on the exhaust and had to pay off the driver 2,000 baht, or the other one who decided to go to a mountain summit to watch the sunset, drive into a pothole in the dark and bash up his foot.
We went to Pam Bok waterfall, a gorge full of mist and rushing noise. There was a very good rock for climbing up and jumping off, and a strong current that knocked one of the guys under water and swept him downstream. He is still alive, and probably not concussed. It was certainly a confrontation with a big natural force; water is in so many forms in this country, whether it's the canal around Chiang Mai, stagnant ground water in the village wells, in the waxy green of plants, or in deafening 30 foot falls.
And so I have landed back in Chiang Mai, which is really very nice, except for holes in the pavement and some funny smells. I've just come back from 26 hours in Pai, the mythical laid back mountain town. No funny business here please, there is a mosque. Four boys and I took a bus through spiralling jungle roads, bumping past towering green pulsing city of plant life twisting all sexy around everything, all of it growing on top of itself. Flowers hang open like mouths. Tiny houses made out of bamboo and palm leaves are being slowly eaten by the land. Mountains appeared suddenly, vastly, yawning out into the grey horizon. Rice fields and brown cows, then little huts behind big signs that say PAI IN LOVE, HAPPY HOUSE, SWEET DREAMS. We arrived at the tiny bus station and walked down the road, past little restaurants offering coffee and fried eggs. We checked in to the Riverside, all bamboo huts and hammocks.
We rented motorcycles, yes dad that is what we did, and I rode with a helmet on the back with a boy who had been riding motorcycles since he was 12. And he slowed down when I asked him to. I am unscathed, unlike one of the others who crashed into a car next to the rental place, burned his leg on the exhaust and had to pay off the driver 2,000 baht, or the other one who decided to go to a mountain summit to watch the sunset, drive into a pothole in the dark and bash up his foot.
We went to Pam Bok waterfall, a gorge full of mist and rushing noise. There was a very good rock for climbing up and jumping off, and a strong current that knocked one of the guys under water and swept him downstream. He is still alive, and probably not concussed. It was certainly a confrontation with a big natural force; water is in so many forms in this country, whether it's the canal around Chiang Mai, stagnant ground water in the village wells, in the waxy green of plants, or in deafening 30 foot falls.
Wednesday, 7 September 2011
Milk Sandwich, Yam Sandwich
After 6 days of being in Thailand, I think I have arrived today.
A note on wildlife. Little lizards grip on to signs, gates, walls, mimicking colours. They are super quick, so no chance of catching one. Cows with sticking out ribs and shoulders have floppy ears and hump backs. They munch on boggy leaves in fields next to the main road. Dogs be barking, cats be slinking, kamikaze squirrels are bleached on their tummies and tails. After sunset, which is like a divine light switch being flicked at 7pm, crickets drown out the noise of the highway next to Wat Jet Yod temple, and the frogs compete for the best warble. Bats skim the river around Old Town. I saw a gigantic glossy rat streak behind a cupboard in the cafe I had dinner in last night. The day before, a beetle longer than my middle finger crawled out from under a table on quick spindly legs, wings clicking. Orchids languidly weigh down their stalks, hanging down from temple walls. Tiny fish swim in ornamental ponds, weird looking birds squawk in cages above bamboo furniture shops.
I got a little job at King’s School on Kaew Nawarat, Just west of the big brown Mae Ping river. I start on Saturday afternoon, and I’ll be on very part-time hours. Still, I feel good about having something to show for my first day hawking my wares. I got very muddled up in alleyways searching for the fabled AUA school, and after reading the guidebook I think it is far too good for the likes of moi. They have requirements for the dress code like shower every day, wear a bra, shave...
I went into Tesco (yep) and I have found my favourite food so far: Ovaltine snacks. Crunchy malt biscuits with a sweet gritty paste malt sandwich filling, only 35 baht for a pack. It seems there is a malt-based craze here, because Ovaltine is on every farang drinks menu. I have given in to it completely.
A note on wildlife. Little lizards grip on to signs, gates, walls, mimicking colours. They are super quick, so no chance of catching one. Cows with sticking out ribs and shoulders have floppy ears and hump backs. They munch on boggy leaves in fields next to the main road. Dogs be barking, cats be slinking, kamikaze squirrels are bleached on their tummies and tails. After sunset, which is like a divine light switch being flicked at 7pm, crickets drown out the noise of the highway next to Wat Jet Yod temple, and the frogs compete for the best warble. Bats skim the river around Old Town. I saw a gigantic glossy rat streak behind a cupboard in the cafe I had dinner in last night. The day before, a beetle longer than my middle finger crawled out from under a table on quick spindly legs, wings clicking. Orchids languidly weigh down their stalks, hanging down from temple walls. Tiny fish swim in ornamental ponds, weird looking birds squawk in cages above bamboo furniture shops.
I got a little job at King’s School on Kaew Nawarat, Just west of the big brown Mae Ping river. I start on Saturday afternoon, and I’ll be on very part-time hours. Still, I feel good about having something to show for my first day hawking my wares. I got very muddled up in alleyways searching for the fabled AUA school, and after reading the guidebook I think it is far too good for the likes of moi. They have requirements for the dress code like shower every day, wear a bra, shave...
I went into Tesco (yep) and I have found my favourite food so far: Ovaltine snacks. Crunchy malt biscuits with a sweet gritty paste malt sandwich filling, only 35 baht for a pack. It seems there is a malt-based craze here, because Ovaltine is on every farang drinks menu. I have given in to it completely.
High Life Job Time
Today I have been delicately tramping Chiang Mai's east side, littering language schools and Christian universities with my qualifications and experience. At Payap university I asked a man where I could hand in an application, turns out he is the dean of students and was going to the big campus out of town where I could surely find something to do. So we got in his beige corduroy interior truck and drove 10 minutes on the highway. I did the applying thing and went to get a song thuew back to the other campus in town. well. the man says, "80 baht."
I say, "Kao rai?! 30 surely."
he says, "no, it is very far away, you must go this way and then that way and then around."
I say, "But 80 is too expensive I think so, how about 40 baht?"
he says, "only 80. All of Thailand, is 80. You don't want taxi you can walk to road and get bus."
I make a face like a stranded white girl in office clothes and I nibble my lip a little.
He walks to a table and pets a dog lying in the shade. Then I hear the clank of keys and he walks to the cab door.
"okay," he says quietly, "I go for 40 baht."
woop! But then, he tries to drop me off 500 meters away from where I want to be, turns around to me and says, "here bus stop."
I give him a big smile and wai right up to my nose, which tickles him immensely. He drops me off at the campus and I give him 40. He still overcharged me.
I have a job interview in an hour, for possible weekend work for the next few weeks.
I say, "Kao rai?! 30 surely."
he says, "no, it is very far away, you must go this way and then that way and then around."
I say, "But 80 is too expensive I think so, how about 40 baht?"
he says, "only 80. All of Thailand, is 80. You don't want taxi you can walk to road and get bus."
I make a face like a stranded white girl in office clothes and I nibble my lip a little.
He walks to a table and pets a dog lying in the shade. Then I hear the clank of keys and he walks to the cab door.
"okay," he says quietly, "I go for 40 baht."
woop! But then, he tries to drop me off 500 meters away from where I want to be, turns around to me and says, "here bus stop."
I give him a big smile and wai right up to my nose, which tickles him immensely. He drops me off at the campus and I give him 40. He still overcharged me.
I have a job interview in an hour, for possible weekend work for the next few weeks.
Tuesday, 6 September 2011
Do Not Feed Them, Do Not Finger Them
The South African took me on a long bus ride to the famous Chatuchak Weekend Market. Why is it famous? Probably because it is absolutely massive, like putting a shop on every square meter of Hyde Park massive, and also because everything is cheap from China. You can buy! You buy hats, rats, cats, cocks (complete with cock fight), dogs, frogs, beds, Bhudda heads, waterfalls, lifelike dolls, little bells, bottled smells, real growing moss in a bag, a racoon panting in the heat, many kinds of meat, and a nice cheap t-shirt. all crammed in with room for one and a half people to walk next to each other. I didn't buy anything, not even a big white snake.
Did I mention that it is really really hot here? Did I remember to say that? Because that is what it is. After 11am, you don't have a chance until 6pm. I ate some extra tasty Tom Yum Goon, a very spicy coconut soup with shrimp floating around it, flavoured with chunks of ginger, lemongrass and coriander. It was so hot I went a little blind. But there is a certain feeling you get from chili that makes the wind cooler on sticky Caucasian skin. The waitresses stared at me as I ate, probably because I was shrimp pink. I began to write in my diary and they leaned over the table to see, so I attempted an English lesson. Thai people say yes by wriggling their eyebrows.
Another pleasant and sophistocated way to cool off is to take a boat with an orange flag down the big river. There is no traffic on the big brown waves, and you can see the well to do stripping off by the hotel pools, derelict warehouse docks, crazy huge beautiful temples complete with grinning monks hopping on the boat. only 30 baht for a return journey. But you can never leave the city. It is forbidden by the rule of sprawl.
Did I mention that it is really really hot here? Did I remember to say that? Because that is what it is. After 11am, you don't have a chance until 6pm. I ate some extra tasty Tom Yum Goon, a very spicy coconut soup with shrimp floating around it, flavoured with chunks of ginger, lemongrass and coriander. It was so hot I went a little blind. But there is a certain feeling you get from chili that makes the wind cooler on sticky Caucasian skin. The waitresses stared at me as I ate, probably because I was shrimp pink. I began to write in my diary and they leaned over the table to see, so I attempted an English lesson. Thai people say yes by wriggling their eyebrows.
Another pleasant and sophistocated way to cool off is to take a boat with an orange flag down the big river. There is no traffic on the big brown waves, and you can see the well to do stripping off by the hotel pools, derelict warehouse docks, crazy huge beautiful temples complete with grinning monks hopping on the boat. only 30 baht for a return journey. But you can never leave the city. It is forbidden by the rule of sprawl.
Hygeiny Lifestyle
My only temple visit has been the Golden Mound, a big old hill covered in gold leaf and many steps. you can ring big bells and bang gongs as you ascend. Once at the top, you can pay your respects to Bhudda, and check out the big view, smoggy but grand. Most of the tall buildings are unfinished apartment blocks, some quite ornate but stained black with mould. The city actually doesn't end, it's just one tangled nest of market streets. Orientation is A Challenge. (Lonely Planet is a really great paperweight, but its purpose as a guide is null. The maps are vague and small, the cheapest listed hostel is around 250 baht, and as with all sights listed in guide books, they have been pillaged by tourists. But it gives a good history of the country. 2/5.)
A talkative Spaniard and I took the metro to Silom to find a metal chastity belt for "his friend." Alas, the tales of this mythical red light district don't hold up in daylight. Only one shop in the area was remotely selling fetish wear, and they were closed. Instead we dragged our feet around in the heat, a few groups of women sitting in bars who listlessly shouted "haaaaay" over their cocktails as we walked past. Splendid billboards for strip clubs; my favourite was Pussy Glamour, which had lots of little wood carvings of people going at it to form the shape of a giant buxom lady.
Enough of this syphilitic den. We walked in the midday heat to the most beautiful house I have ever seen ever. Home to writer, lecturer, and former president M R Kurit, This complex of five teak buildings is preserved as a museum set up in a similar style to the way he lived. the roofs are tall and sloping, the rooms are dark and cool, and there are beautiful collections of masks, statues, puppets, and furniture stuffed in every gleaming room. Birds shriek amidst the thick mass of tropical ferns and flowers, and hardly anyone was visiting while we were there. Of course there was a swimming pool, which we furtivley took advantage of. Delight.
Back at the hostel Overstay, a great big punk rock show underneath the dorm until 5 in the morning, and then roadworks right outside at 9am. I met a lot of good people here, including a girl who just graduated from Norwich Art School, and a South African man who gave me plenty of sound advice for cheap living in Chiang Mai. Everyone is super friendly. People were drawing and painting all over the walls, playing pool, dancing to whatever techno was playing in the bar.
Other things too, but they are censored.
A talkative Spaniard and I took the metro to Silom to find a metal chastity belt for "his friend." Alas, the tales of this mythical red light district don't hold up in daylight. Only one shop in the area was remotely selling fetish wear, and they were closed. Instead we dragged our feet around in the heat, a few groups of women sitting in bars who listlessly shouted "haaaaay" over their cocktails as we walked past. Splendid billboards for strip clubs; my favourite was Pussy Glamour, which had lots of little wood carvings of people going at it to form the shape of a giant buxom lady.
Enough of this syphilitic den. We walked in the midday heat to the most beautiful house I have ever seen ever. Home to writer, lecturer, and former president M R Kurit, This complex of five teak buildings is preserved as a museum set up in a similar style to the way he lived. the roofs are tall and sloping, the rooms are dark and cool, and there are beautiful collections of masks, statues, puppets, and furniture stuffed in every gleaming room. Birds shriek amidst the thick mass of tropical ferns and flowers, and hardly anyone was visiting while we were there. Of course there was a swimming pool, which we furtivley took advantage of. Delight.
Back at the hostel Overstay, a great big punk rock show underneath the dorm until 5 in the morning, and then roadworks right outside at 9am. I met a lot of good people here, including a girl who just graduated from Norwich Art School, and a South African man who gave me plenty of sound advice for cheap living in Chiang Mai. Everyone is super friendly. People were drawing and painting all over the walls, playing pool, dancing to whatever techno was playing in the bar.
Other things too, but they are censored.
Khao San Cats All Have Kinks in Their Tails
I am still alive. Ever sweaty, insatiably peckish, bug-eyed tourist am I.
Thailand so far has been a rush of new things; noises, smells, cats and dogs and people all living together on the street, everything going all night.
On the sky train ride from the airport I saw people trying to grow rice under freeway bridges and building sites, living in burnt out cars or corrugated iron villages. Being the only white kid on the bus makes me feel smug and cultured, even when stuck in 4 lanes of traffic for 20 minutes without moving. Scooters are always at the head of the traffic jam, weaving around taxis and tuk tuks, and a huge crew of them take off in a spume of exhaust when the light goes green.
On the first night, I went to bed at 8pm and woke up at 1am. Jetlag dug its talons into my inner alarm clock, and pushed me out onto Khao San Road. I found two French boys crouching in an alleyway, and we talked about festivals. We went to a bar - a metal cart on the street full of ice and beer with a stereo and plastic stools surrounding it - and shouted to everyone to sit with us. We amassed:
• a Greek woman who worked in MRI in Athens and had left her travel buddy sleeping in the hostel.
• a burly Polish man who shook everybody's hand twice and laughed with gusto.
• a beautiful Japanese boy who refuelled airplanes for a living and was just stopping for the night before moving on to Nepal, where he was going to live in a monastery. He had no hair at all, and I thought about asking him if he got a lot of grit in his eyes.
• A talkative Thai named Mozz who gave me the address of Overstay, where you pay 80 baht a night (42THB = £1) and there are parties and art and hippies. I'm like, hell yeah, see you tomorrow my friend.
As soon as I leave the screaming neon Khao San Rd, the food is better, the other Europeans have vanished, and no one is trying to sell you a tattoo or a suit or a driving license or a bashed up hat that says I <3 Thailand. People's front rooms double as a store front, and everybody's kitchen is outside on a wheeled metal cart. Vendors sleep in their stalls, with a skinny guard dog outside. I saw a man climb into a cupboard plastered with posters, statues and garlands for Buddha, with a tiny mattress where he curled up and shut the doors.
Thailand so far has been a rush of new things; noises, smells, cats and dogs and people all living together on the street, everything going all night.
On the sky train ride from the airport I saw people trying to grow rice under freeway bridges and building sites, living in burnt out cars or corrugated iron villages. Being the only white kid on the bus makes me feel smug and cultured, even when stuck in 4 lanes of traffic for 20 minutes without moving. Scooters are always at the head of the traffic jam, weaving around taxis and tuk tuks, and a huge crew of them take off in a spume of exhaust when the light goes green.
On the first night, I went to bed at 8pm and woke up at 1am. Jetlag dug its talons into my inner alarm clock, and pushed me out onto Khao San Road. I found two French boys crouching in an alleyway, and we talked about festivals. We went to a bar - a metal cart on the street full of ice and beer with a stereo and plastic stools surrounding it - and shouted to everyone to sit with us. We amassed:
• a Greek woman who worked in MRI in Athens and had left her travel buddy sleeping in the hostel.
• a burly Polish man who shook everybody's hand twice and laughed with gusto.
• a beautiful Japanese boy who refuelled airplanes for a living and was just stopping for the night before moving on to Nepal, where he was going to live in a monastery. He had no hair at all, and I thought about asking him if he got a lot of grit in his eyes.
• A talkative Thai named Mozz who gave me the address of Overstay, where you pay 80 baht a night (42THB = £1) and there are parties and art and hippies. I'm like, hell yeah, see you tomorrow my friend.
As soon as I leave the screaming neon Khao San Rd, the food is better, the other Europeans have vanished, and no one is trying to sell you a tattoo or a suit or a driving license or a bashed up hat that says I <3 Thailand. People's front rooms double as a store front, and everybody's kitchen is outside on a wheeled metal cart. Vendors sleep in their stalls, with a skinny guard dog outside. I saw a man climb into a cupboard plastered with posters, statues and garlands for Buddha, with a tiny mattress where he curled up and shut the doors.
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