So I wait for the bus to pick me up, wondering what to expect in the day ahead. And I wait. And wait.
When the bus is 20 minutes late I get the receptionist at the guesthouse to call the travel agent, see what’s happening. This takes about half an hour altogether, with much speaking in frantic Thai going on (the receptionist, not me) and slowly increasing confusion (yeah, that’ll be me). Eventually it transpires that they have forgotten me. Brilliant. And so they send a driver in a car to come and pick me up so we can chase the bus down the motorway and catch them up.
In what becomes a frequent habit throughout the day, I sleep most of the way. The poor driver doesn’t speak much English anyway so it doesn’t matter too much. We eventually catch up with the group who have just finished looking at a waterfall. I’m greeted by the very apologetic and very smiley Waew (“Like Will!” she laughs. I grind my teeth a little.) and it turns out I’ve missed another waterfall before this one. Great. I quite fancied a dip underneath a waterfall. But, I’m told, there’s another waterfall to visit this afternoon.
I’m reassured a little until I see the group I’m with. They all come back from the waterfall fully dressed and very dry. There has blatantly been no swimming, just looking. On top of that, they are all middle-aged couples who are obviously on holiday. Not a single backpacker among them. What the hell have I signed up for??
We all pile into the minibus where I promptly fall asleep again. We rock up to a village populated by a Karen hill tribe. The Karen people are an ethnic group who are spread across northern Thailand and Myanmar (Burma). They have apparently been fighting for their own independent state since the middle of last century, but their doesn’t seem to be much of a revolution going on today. Their village, a collection of rickety and more stable and modern houses on stilts, is nestled in heavily farmed hills. Most of the villagers are outside, underneath their houses eating lunch when we arrive. We’re told that many relatives who live in the big towns and cities have come back to visit their families for Songkran.
I’m not sure if it’s the hangover but I’m completely unexcited by it. I think maybe it’s more to do with the fact that I’ve been here for a little while and this sort of thing, this comparatively primitive lifestyle, doesn’t seem exotic or out of the ordinary for me any more. I’ve not come straight from Dailymailshire, Middle England like the rest of my companions here. This is the sort of thing I’ve been seeing just travelling around anyway.
I really have signed up for the wrong thing.
We’re shown into a shack, however, that holds something passably interesting - some Karen women making colourful shawls using a traditional weaving method. I scout around the selection already made and for sale that are hanging from the walls and pick one out for Mum for her birthday. Seems like the sort of thing she’d like.
We get back on the bus and I pass out. What must they think of me??
Next stop is one of the King of Thailand’s royal projects promoting self-sufficiency among the poor. (God, how dull. When are we going trekking?) It’s a bit like The Eden Project in Cornwall, and just as dull unless you’re into gardening or looking at pretty flowers. I am not a massive fan of either and drag myself around the place like Kevin the teenager. Though I do take some nice pics of flowers purely cos my rubbish camera seems good at close-up shots and it gives me a chance to play around with it. The black swans we see are quite cool as well, but otherwise, dull, dull, dull.
Get back in minibus. Fall asleep.
Next stop is the King and Queen’s Pagodas, each built in the late 80s and early 90s respectively to commemorate the monarchs’ 60th birthdays. They look stunning, particularly the Queen’s which is built from purple-coloured stone (it’s her favourite colour, apparently), and inside each there’s impressive carvings telling portraying stories about the Buddha. But the lack of history lessens the impact for me. When I look at buildings like this I like to know that they’ve seen some action in their time. All these pair have seen is pink-skinned tourists like myself gawping back at them.
Bus. Sleep.
Next stop is the top of Doi Inthanon. Hooray! Maybe we’ll do some walking and see a bit of nature!
Nope. We get the bus up to a car park, and then a sawngthaew up the rest of the way. I’m last in and there’s no room inside for me. One of the adults deigns to speak to me as I step on to the back of the vehicle. “You be all right there?” he asks. “Yep,” I grin. “Not the first time I’ve been hanging off the back of a sawngthaew this weekend.” He doesn’t know what to say to that.
It’s cool at the top of the mountain. I regret not bringing a sweater. The peak is surrounded by cloud so the view is... white. This is the best trip ever! There’s some sort of research station on our left as we get out that we’re not allowed to take photos of. I try and sneak a couple later but they don’t come out too well. We’re shown a shrine to some prince or other. I don’t know, I’m past caring now. I just wander round feigning interest by taking photos and marvelling at the cold. It’s quite a novelty.
Busleep.
We go to a waterfall next. Well, we don’t, we go to a viewing platform that looks down on a waterfall that’s bloody miles away. It’s nice. What happened to my day of trekking and bathing under waterfalls, I don’t know. Must. Ask. Questions. In. Future.
Bleep.
But not for long. I wake up as we arrive at the first hotel to drop off A Couple. It’s very posh and expensive-looking. It’s not in my guidebook. Each hotel after that is decreasingly expensive and posh until there’s only one person left in the bus, which is me of course. I don’t get dropped off outside my guesthouse either. I get dropped off on the side of the road round the corner from my guesthouse. “One way system,” Waew explains, lamely. Whatever.
I go book shopping to cheer myself up, and find Book II of His Dark Materials, and Bangkok Tattoo, the sequel to Bangkok 8. I’m now much happier as I have Something To Look Forward To.
I go to that place that had free internet for dinner. This time I find out it’s name - Ratana’s Kitchen. Go there, the food is great. There’s some French guys hogging the computer after I finish eating though so I while away the time drinking beer and covertly stealing an article about Songkran from a magazine that actually turns out to be free but I don’t realise that ’til later. I should be a spy.
I also plan the night ahead. The girls are gone so I can go gay. I’ve come out armed with some gay guides I got from Bangkok that have some dodgy-looking maps listing the gay hot spots in Chiang Mai. Most of these seem to be “for men, by men” massage parlours, but there are a few bars that might be worth checking out.
After I’ve finished at Ratana’s I head to the part of the city, just past Liz’s hotel actually, where there seems to be the most bars. But it turns out the maps are dodgier than I thought and it takes me an age to track them down. Eventually I just stumble upon a small street, more of an alley really, that’s lined with a few colourful, male-populated bars.
I have no idea which one to sit at but a waiter decides for me, drawing me into his bar. I take a seat at the bar and order a beer. I chat to the waiter a bit, which is a little uncomfortable. He’s all over me without actually touching me, if you see what I mean. But I don’t fancy him at all so I just give him small talk to be polite.
He tells me all the bars along here are owned by the same person, but this one is most popular as it has a pool table. The pool table is surrounded by (some cute) youngish Thai lads. They all look bloody miserable though, it’s weird. Elsewhere in the bar are some old white male farang. I’m the only farang in here and I immediately think this makes me the most attractive. I get cocky and assume I won’t be going home alone tonight.
I chat to the barman a bit, he’s a good-looking fella. He brings out some rice wine for me and the old guy sat next to me to try. He turns it down. I go for it. It tastes like sherry. Hardly Leo doing snake blood is it??
But then he brings out bottles of rice wine with things like a scorpion, or a snake, or a caterpillar, floating inside. I try the scorpion one. Again, tastes like sherry. I get slowly drunk.
I go and play pool. It’s winner stays on so I play one of the Thai lads. He’s excellent, I’m dismal. None of them speak to me. I should’ve realised then.
I go back to the bar and start chatting to this cute Thai lad, cute despite his dyed yellow hair. His name is Chay and his English is clumsy at best but we have a laugh. He takes me to meet his ‘brother’ (actually his cousin) who works at another of the bars. He tells me he looks after him when he’s got no money. Chay tells me he works at the bar opposite (which is shut as we speak) and we have a very confused chat about what I do. We then go back to the first bar and sit with the waiter. He was up for taking me on after but pulls out now Chay’s around, and my attempts to get a gang together (Chay, waiter, barmen) to go on clubbing after the bars shut shows some slight promise then falters quickly.
The first bar eventually shuts up and Chay takes me over to the bar opposite. It’s run by a Thai Muslim dude called Ali, who is very chilled and cool. He’s probably seen a million like me before and, with hindsight, was probably just waiting for the penny to drop. He’s certainly quick to fill me in when it does.
A very tall ladyboyman working behind the bar, who seems to speak with a German accent, comes up and pouts at me a lot. I keep asking him if he’s German. I am the only person that finds this funny.
Chay asks me if I want to go to a titty bar. I frown at him. “You into girls?” I slur. I’m confused. And then it dawns... Ali tells me he is, but he’s happy to sleep with men for money. I groan inwardly. Ali goes on to tell me that most of the lads that come here are straight. They hang out here to pick up older men - the older the better as they have more money. Young farang like me aren’t much of a prospect so are pretty much ignored.
Chay has wandered off during this explanation, and when he comes back I try and explain that I’m not willing to pay for sex. I ramble drunkenly but he understands “can’t pay” and “no money” and disappears quick-smart. So, while I was sat there arrogantly thinking I was the dog’s bollocks, I was actually the least attractive prospect in that bar. Fucking hell! You live and learn.
I go back to the bar. German ladyboyman invites me to sit behind the bar with him and I sit down and start chatting to a Brummie bloke with two Thai girls. Least someone’s had some luck. We have a laugh about what’s happened to me. Ladyboyman disappears and then two gay farang and a Thai boy come and sit down at the end of the bar. One of the guys is from Bournemouth and used to work in, or run, I forget, the Branksome Arms, a pub I’ve been to on many an occasion with my mate Gary. It’s a small gay world.
I ask if he knows Gary, but he doesn’t. We chat a bit more and then something really weird happens. I’m blathering away about something and use the word fuck, as I am wont to do on occasion, and Bournemouth dude flips. He takes real offence to me using the word and gets really angry. I point out that I am an Englishman, and as an Englishman himself he must know that we use it as punctuation, it doesn’t mean anything. But he’s not having any of it and flounces off with Thai lad in tow. I’m incredulous. His mate tells me not to worry, he’s drunk and flips out like that sometimes.
I chat to Ali. He’s not gay and is Muslim. I attempt to ask him in my drunken way about being Muslim and running a gay bar, because, like, you know, Muslims are known for being “not keen” on the old gay thing. He just says it’s never bothered him. Man of few words, that Ali.
I ask him how I ended up behind the bar. “You walked there,” he says. I nod understandingly. That, I think, makes total sense. “Time to go home,” I say. He nods understandingly. I stumble home.
What a WEIRD day!
April 17
My last day in Chiang Mai but I don’t have anything planned. There’s not much to see in the city apart from wats and I’ve had my fill of them quite frankly. A chill out day begins.
I do go for a wander down to the river but it’s too damn hot to spend any length of time outside. (Now the bloody sun comes out!!) So I go back to the guesthouse and hang out by the pool. I get stuck in to The Subtle Knife, the second His Dark Materials book. It’s good from the get go. This is going to be one of those reading experiences that you feel bereft when it ends, I know it.
Jack is running around as usual with Serena and a Thai boy in tow, but they leave me be. Songkran is over now so they’re reduced to covering each other with a water instead.
I get talking to a Norwegian girl called Ann by the pool. She’s really cool, very chatty and easy-going. She’s on a gap year from Uni - got bored of studying so took a year out. We talk about travelling a lot and she tells me about the east coast of Australia, saying it’s very touristy and full of backpackers and that I should try the west coast if I want something a bit different.
Then she decides to go off to Doi Suthep, a mountain near Chiang Mai that has a famous wat. She invites me but I need to be here for the bus pick-up to go back to Bangkok.
As she goes off to get ready, a Filipino guy sits down and starts flicking through a paper. He asks me if I like climbing. I tell him I’ve never done it but wouldn’t mind trying. He asks if I know anything about it here. I tell him I’ve seen loads of info about climbing trips so he’s definitely in the right place. He eventually confesses he’s looking for a climbing buddy. I tell him I’d love to hook up with him but I’m going. Trust me to meet some interesting people just as I’m leaving!
Ann comes back and gets chatting to him. Turns out she’s half-Filipino and they talk about places in the Philippines they both know. He invites himself along to Doi Suthep with her and then goes off to get ready. She doesn’t seem bothered until he starts to take ages. After about 10 minutes she gets annoyed - the wat shuts at a certain time - and goes off to see if the receptionist can track him down. He eventually turns up and off they go.
I doze, and read, on the sofa by the pool. God I’m hungover. Nothing makes me feel better. It’s hot and the fans do little to ease the heat. Coke doesn’t have it’s usual magical affect. Neither does crisps. It’s too damn hot.
The time for the bus to pick me up comes and goes. I start to worry, as I booked the ticket through the same company that forgot me yesterday. This time I go round the corner to the office. Turns out the man should have written 6.30, not 16.30. Fucking hell.
I go back and wait some more. Ann comes back. I could’ve gone with her after all. Bollocks. I go get some food on the street - they have menus in English! - and have a wicked pad Thai. As I eat, I’m mesmerised by this dark-haired lad on his own but he pays no attention to me. I’m off anyway, no point making new friends.
Eventually a sawngthaew picks me up from my guesthouse, and I’m off. I get on the bus and get a seat by the window. Not long after an Indian-looking guy sits down next to me. For about half an hour into the journey he sits there, back dead straight, fingers tapping on his knees, leaning forward occasionally. Bring a fucking book next time! It annoys the hell out of me.
As soon as I put my book down he starts chatting. He’s actually a nice fella, on holiday from Bangladesh with his mate. He tells me they’ve been trekking. I quietly fume. I tell him about Songkran but it seems it passed him by completely. Eventually of course he gets on to Bangladesh and how it’s not as bad as the media makes out and actually it’s got a thriving tourist industry etc etc etc. He works for a tour company, of course. Probably been getting tips from the Thais on how best to do it. He’s lucky he didn’t go on my trip.
All I know about Bangladesh is the general impression you get from the news that it’s A Bit Dodgy, so I just sit and listen and nod and grunt in all the right places. I’m so good at that. I let the conversation go on for a bit cos he’s quite interesting. But then I let it dry up. I want to get back to my book. I need to know what’s happening to Lyra and Will. I’m so sad.
In the hours that follow two guys sat up front bore the rest of the bus to tears with a supremely intellectual conversation about math, math theories and math history. One is a math student, the other very interested. It’s quite annoying to listen to but at least it’s markedly different from the usual conversation you might hear between two lads who’ve just met on a bus like this.
I soon doze off but its a fitful sleep. I cannot get comfortable at all. We stop later at a service station type place. I eat and drink in a near-stupor, but with that awful ‘holiday’s over’ feeling.
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