Thailand Take 1

Holy Cow! It’s the future! There’s cars with all their doors on, I can’t see any livestock, the roads are...well; roads.  Hang on, is that a working sewage system!? Right, where are the robots and hover taxis?

So, Bangkok, what’s the plan? A bit of culture, see the palace, visit the buddhas, check out a temple or two.  I meet a fellow brit at the hostel, we see one buddha and head to the pub. I figure I can turn my pics of the standing buddha on their side and say I’ve seen the lying buddha.  No problem.

A couple of days soaking up the sun by the pool, contemplating buying pig faces and avoiding all sightseeing and it’s time to head north to Chang Mai. Myself and Paul catch the overnight bus, a damn sight better than the buses in India, there’s even a stewardess!  There is of course the compulsory musically surreal dvd and we learn that the seats are not quite equipped to accommodate two large western gentlemen sitting side by side.  Paul travels with one butt cheek proudly in the aisle - comfy.

The second thing we learn upon arrival in Chang Mai is that 4am seems to be happy hour for Gary Glitter lookalikes accompanied by lovely ladies with shoulder widths more suited to the NFL.  This is quite surprising to Paul who hadn’t looked at the guidebook and thought  we were heading to a small fishing village.

A couple of days checking the town out and getting shot of the mountain man beard then off for some more trekking - no, seriously!  This trek though is a tad easier than the himalayas and marketed towards the more casual hiker.  A fact that is confirmed by the fellow trekker who has included a practical 3 pairs of stilettos in her backpack!

It’s a maximum of 3hrs walking each day and we’re shown the way by a crazed alcoholic who punctuates each utterance with a pirate cackle.  He introduces us to the local moonshine which has a similar effect on my head as the village kids have on Paul’s as they practice their Muai Thai.

There’s a bit of Elephant trekking (I pity the poor hefelump that ended up with me and Paul on his back!). Some swimming in non flattering sub zero waterfalls and an uncoordinated attempt at white water rafting. The latter becomes very amusing when 2 of our rafts get stuck together at the top of a small waterfall.  Imagine if you will 8 grown men flailing about in 2 rubber rafts like e-number fueled toddlers let loose on a bouncy castle.

We end the trip on bamboo rafts (which are very easy to tip when someone’s attempting to punt from the front) and head back to Chang Mai for some beers with the group.  It is shortly after dinner and part way into my second beer tower that I am struck by the most disturbingly violent bout of food poisoning ever ( and after India I now what I’m talking about) from bloody western food! It’s the first time I’ve been off the spicy stuiff since I arrived - not happy!!  I bid a polite and very hasty farewell and powerwalk back to the hostel for a quick overdose of imodium.  That done I get bored so head out again, this time meeting up with a french girl we had been playing guitar with when we first arrived.  I end up spending the night jamming with the yooff of Chang Mai whilst they party away the wee hours around a bbq they’ve rigged up between the mopeds on the street. Random but fun.

We ended up having a few jams in Chang Mai as Paul bought himself a small guitar which next to his frame conjured images of George Thornby. Jamming is how we met Nigel, a great guitarist and storyteller who is also possibly the hippiest hippy I have ever met (again India has provided good comparison material). With his grey beard and matching pony tail always complemented by a tie-dye t-shirt, he lives in California, smokes his homegrown, protests against anything the government may have in mind and gets himself into trouble with overly complicated women (I know they’re all complicated but Nigel takes it to a new level!) Nigel is a living stereotype and reveling in it. Legend!