75 days later

It has been quite a while since I swallowed the lump in my throat as the plane landed on the hazy Bangkok runway, when I sweated at customs praying that they would not ask what my specific intentions were for visiting the country, that IT WOULDN'T BE TO WORK, WOULD IT?

My enthusiasm for noodles has not guttered, though I know what I like, and I know I don't like the thick gloopy ones that all stick together in a shiny brown "gravy" goo. I could eat noodles all day, even just one long noodle, a day-long noodle.

I'd say I've got more streetwise, as in I look where I'm going so I don't fall into huge holes or fight battles with cranky dogs. And I tend not to walk under electric cables.

I miss ale, but I have fresh coconut.

I miss pubs, but I have bamboo huts by the river.

I miss Norwich, Leeds, Brighton, Bristol, Stroud (for the autumn smells), London (ya cunt), I miss watching reruns of Mighty Boosh under a blanket with a mug of brown tea after a chilly walk through a muddy field. And by gum do I miss the mass unemployment, the seething hatred of the establishment, I miss the fight fight fight!

But I found a punk show, a tiny room full of Thai boys with 3-foot long mohawks and studs all over everything, jumping around like bingo balls in their DMs. I got some excellent bruises from dancing (shoving and getting shoved about), and I let out all that pent up energy that comes from walking pretty and talking about yoga, noodles, and how cheap coconuts are.

I think I have found a nice balance of activities to keep me sane here for a while, ie sipping wine at the Riverside vs not going anywhere near or even climbing inside abandoned buildings; chatting Chekov at book swaps vs. howling along the street in Critical Mass.

I may be here until March 2013. So book yr tickets, mai?

Megaboom

Loi Loi Krathon, Loi Loi Krathon... The Lantern Festival! Light a kom loi, make a wish! Float a krathon, feed the river gods! Decorate your front door sweetly, be nice to all your friends! Stock up on explosives and whiskey though, you don't want to run out.

The parades are long but they are pretty. See the giant blue glittery cloud decorated with swans and umbrellas that nestles a little girl dressed in red and gold who can hardly keep her head up because her face is so thickly laid with eyelash glue, lipstick, and meters of fake hair. A cable on the back of the float connects to a truck following closely behind, bearing a large generator that cloaks the street in an ethereal diesel mist. The traditional bands carrying gongs, very long drums, and boys who dance/fight with cymbals, are usually drowned out by the 10-speaker sound systems. And so on for two hours. Great costumes, smiling people (how do they smile for so long? Vaseline), epic dancing.

The day after, school has the afternoon off to make krathons, which are offerings to the river made of folded banana leaves and decorated with flowers, incense and candles in the shape of a lotus. The idea is to put your wishes on the krathon, light the candle and push it into the river, where it floats downstream, all the way out to sea probably. My 7-year-old friend Bandok (on the left in the picture) and I struggle through, doing our best to make something beautiful.

Interesting story I heard about the origins of these floating offerings; the original city was settled a few miles downstream of the established Chiang Mai. There was a horrible virus that started killing everyone off, a kind of bubonic plague situation with the sick packed into areas separate from the village. Of course quarantines are tricky when your walls are made of bamboo leaves, so the uninfected people were left with few choices. Those that could, left. They left their families behind and took boats upstream to start a new village. This village was extra clean and healthy, and everyone was happy with their new lives. But they didn't forget their sick relatives, and knowing that they were struggling, every full moon they sent down boats built from banana trees filled with provisions. And so, krathons for our ancestors.

Two days after the first parade, there is another one. They told me, “It's like the last one, but bigger!” Indeed. Now they are driving more elaborate floats with 3-storey castles stuffed with beauty kings and queens, smiling for all of Siam. Even the Night Safari crew rocks up (marketing tagline: you can eat anything you see! They had to keep a low profile shortly after they opened when a pack of wolves escaped and was spotted prowling the streets of Chiang Mai) with horns tied to their heads and feathers tickling the noses of onlookers. I get a very good look at them when the parade stood still for 20 minutes. Then I get a little restless and walk up a little towards Nakorn Ping Bridge. I watch a big-bellied man drenched in glitter rub a gong for another 10 minutes or so. There is a big explosion behind me and everything goes quiet.

But then everyone remembers, ha ha ha, it's Loi Krathon! Explosions are good luck! Then all the power along the river goes out, but they were just kidding because it comes back on after a couple minutes. By this time I am jammed into a crowd of drunken Thai boys, cheek by jowl. Bring on the groping. I'm talking full on free for all grope time. I decide that it's worth heading home at this point, as the only white girl in the heaving whisky-scented mass. This takes a LONG TIME because all of Chiang Mai, and any lucky evacuee from Bangkok, has congregated at this intersection and is trying to get somewhere. Finally I am spat out onto the bridge. Keep eyes out though, they tell me that falang often find firecrackers under their feet.

The next morning, I go for a run. The charred corpses of kom lois are caught in trees, crumpled on street corners. The river is speckled with bottles and firework canisters. I think that if I liked loud noises and dreadful amounts of booze, this would have been a brilliant festival. But, but. I do like things that light up with lots of colours, I like things that float in the sky and in the water.

Bring on New Year's.

mountain fun

Clean Food Good Tast

ACTUALLY, I am going to forfeit my ticket and take the best job I could hope for at a great school. I will be helping a Thai teacher do a grade 2 class, age 7-8. Lots of mask making and pretending to be animals. SO! I can stay in Chiang Mai , I can go to Critical Mass on the 28th, I can go to another Sunday walking street and eat  fried things at the temple, I can train to cycle up Doi Suthep, 13 km  no problem. Come visit me sometime  eh?

You will be denied boarding once gate closes

So I'm off now, taking an airplane, not a 40 hour bus journey, way way down south almost to the Malaysian border - no fighting, trouble not - to Songkhla province to the rubber factory transport hub of Hat Yai. What awaits me there? Buildings, roads, Chinese food, Malaysian tourists, not a lot of falang folk to Starbucks up the place. I have a job at the International School of Hat Yai, starting Tuesday.
woo!
Pumpkins are in season, the tastiest vegetable on this earth. Raw chocolate cake and veg soup tomorrow night at Giant Guesthouse, all us mucky hippy intellectual types will be scarfing down the deliciousness in the communal kitchen after a Doi Suthep wonder tour.

Nature Will Bitch You Up

After recess, the naughty nine-year olds were all like, "teacher, teacher!" and pointing at the table. A big, black, shiny, round, hairy, spike-leggedy beetle, with big chompy jaws. Poor creature, I thought, trapped inside horrid human classroom. So I let this huge bastard climb onto my hand, which it gripped with disproportionate strength. I whisked it away downstairs to the garden by the parking lot, tailed by two of the boys from class. I'll just let it down gently in the shrubbery, I thought kindly, but when I tried to pluck it off my hand, it HISSED AT ME. I have never heard myself scream like that, a wail of sheer terror, thinking this monster tightening its grip around my wrist was going to sever it, and I'm screaming and it's hissing and the boys are pointing and laughing at me, and I must regain my teacherly composure, so I coaxed it off with a dry leaf on the ground, each of its barbed legs unfastening themselves from my skin.

I found out later that they do not spit poison and kill, but they will pinch you like crabs do.

Big Flood Time

I am eating nice hot and sour coconut soup with chicken, noodles, a bit of boiled egg, and a disc of vegetable that is similar but nothing like potato. There is a hideous soap opera on TV behind me.

I have just said goodbye to a new and most excellent friend, esteemed musician, cardplayer and adventurer, Mr Nick Rocco. I think that's his name.

I will tell you of my day, from the very beginning. There are four things.

1. 4am, I am woken up, as I am every night, by the temple bell and the howling dogs. Someone is playing music that sounds like Cat Power, but just voice. Somehwere, a machine is on that sounds like a snoring basoon. It's raining. It's a good little soundscape, but I wish it was cool enough to close the balcony door.

2. 7am, it's still raining. I put on my plastic rain mac from 7-11 over my office clothes, and cycle to an interview at the Chiang Mai University Language Institute. BUT! What is this? Upon turning off the busy Huay Kaew road onto Sirimankalajarn, I am landed in six inches of water, which gets deeper as I go further along the street. I have never seen such a puddle. Every car is splashing me on my right, and my knuckles are white from fear of falling into one of the many potholes camoflagued under the brown water. I got really wet yeh. The interview was fine, and they're going to call me before December.
2.5. Later, after a sneaky full English breakfast, I comply with a sixteen-year-old Thai girl's approved request to have a lesson on how to flirt with foreign boys - I draw on my vast well of experience here: "So what do you think about you and me?" "Hi cutie." "You're so handsome." "I like your hair/ clothes/ music." Still, despite my efforts, she is concentrating on her phone and the clock on the wall.

3. I meet with Nick and Michael and Panisa, we have lunch and talk about when rascist jokes are appropriate and 80's teen movies. Then, then, Nick and I walk and walk, past the cabaret costume shop to the northwest corner of Old Town,  to this crazy Narnia building covered in white stone sculptures of lions, gorillas, and Greek boy gods, totally abandoned, half built and deteriorating. We walk up three flights of hazardous stairs, peeking in tiny empty rooms with floor to ceiling stained glass windows, until we get to the very top and out onto a big balcony, all of Chiang Mai presented to us. We poke around a little wooden house, empty but for a stool and two big knives. A woman starts following us around, pretending to sweep the concrete. Okay, sorry, we go now.

4. We want coffee, dammit, where can we get something like that in this town? Isn't it a Wednesday? In the middle of the afternoon? Where's the service? The service is currently under five feet of dirty water, sorry, closed today. And the next day. And most of the weekend. We hitch up our shorts and wade through. Thai people are stil smiling, heaving water with buckets from behind sandbanks, taking pictures of each other. Someone released a dam that was looking ready to burst, so rather than mess up the entire province, they just ruined a few homes and businesses by the river. Sabai sabai. It's pretty much okay now.