Head Out On The Highway
Isn't it about high time I sent an update? It feels like ages, but perhaps that's just because much has happened.
We're into a bit of ancient history here, but these are things I thought worth sharing.
Hat Yai, my southern most locale, is a bit of a dump. There is a wonderful night market that can't be beat for cold beer and roadside food, but the rest seems to be oppressive and a bit depressing. At least for single male travellers like me, everyone in Hat Yai is a pimp. Sure, it's not a big surprise that the bellboy at my cheap hotel might ask "you want lady?". Nor is it totally surprising that the motorcycle taxi drivers ask the same thing. But what really struck me was when the 55+ grandmotherly room maid looked at me with a big grin and said "you want special nice lady all night for you?". I answered "only if it's you", and after a big chuckle I seemed to be her new best friend from that point on.
When I first arrived in the middle of that huge chunk of concrete I did my usual thing of walking everywhere to scope the town out. (Well, you can't walk 'everywhere' in Hat Yai as it's a big town, but that's quibbling.) Near the heart of downtown the rain started. I took shelter in an open sided seafood restaurant and started ordering the Changs while a torrential downpour took hold. It overwhelmed the city drainage such that after about an hour the streets were six inches deep in flowing water. For most of the downpour it was thick enough that if you were to dash across the street you would be as wet as having jumped in a lake. When it let up slightly I decided that ordering yet more beer would be a mistake and proceeded to dash between awnings and make my way back to my room. Now here's the point of this story: Since the drainage was overwhelmed and all low-lying areas were submerged, every cockroach in the city headed up onto the high sidewalks. They were scampering everywhere, and I had to smile as the well dressed shop girls would stomp them mercilessly and kick their squashed remains out into the flowing streets. As I was standing waiting for a rain surge to subside I felt something on my leg, looked and saw a centipede charging up my calf heading north as fast as its little legs could carry it. Remembering something about extremely venomous centipedes in Thailand I immediately shook it off so it could join the march of the cockroaches. But, unlike the shop girls, I did not have the heart to squash the thing. I just kept my eye on it until the next brief break in the rain when I could dash to the next block.
The day I caught the "sleeper" out of Hat Yai was the King's birthday. I didn't know this at the time. I went to my favourite little air-con restaurant for some Penang curry (the best!) at lunch, and just as I got there a huge parade came flowing through the streets. It went on for an hour or so and featured every school band in town. There were also numerous beautiful young women and school boys dressed in elaborate and gorgeous traditional costumes. After it was all over I thought to myself that there were some wonderful photos that could have been taken. I then realized that I had my camera with me the whole time. Remember earlier I said I wasn't much of a camera oriented person? I meant it.
Trains are an interesting way to travel. It's odd seeing the countryside simply roll past through the square windows. Things you see:
-- A tan brahma bull with his large hump above his shoulders grazing beside a stand of sugarcane and surrounded by 8 or 10 long-legged, long-necked white egrets, looking for all the world like a classic National Geographic shot. And then they're gone.
Or: -- A camp of gritty tough young men living under plastic and sleeping in hammocks beside the rail bridge that they are repairing by hand. And then they're gone.
Or: -- A women and three young children playing netless badminton on a red-dirt road in front of brilliant green rice paddies. The woman serves, but the girl opposite is staring transfixed at the train with her mouth open. The birdie hits her square on the forehead and she jumps out of her skin. The woman doubles over in laughter; I laugh out loud from my seat. And then they're gone.
I'll spare us all the obvious comparison of a train moving through landscape with our lives moving through time. (And then they're gone...)
I now have a Thai visa extension good 'til January 13th, and a Vietnam visa that takes effect December 26th. It took a week, half of which was spent in Bangkok and half in Ayuthaya. Bangkok was much easier this time around, and more fun, but I'm still not a big-city person. The biggest adventure was hitting the humongous and world-renowned Chatuchak weekend market. But after an hour there I realized that for all its chaos and uniqueness it was still just shopping, and I glaze over at shopping. I went in search of bargains but it seems that only the junk was a bargain. The delightful quality stuff was fairly expensive (by Thai standards) and the vendors of it had little interest in bargaining. I bought nothing.
Ayuthaya was great. It's a small, sleepy
town a little north of Bangkok renowned for it's many ancient and
crumbling temples
.
There's something truly moving about poking around large creations
that are hundreds of years old. I rented a bicycle, saw most of the town that
way, and marveled at the
decrepit splendors
.
And yes, I did take a whack of photos there.
Status Report:
Internal geography:
-- As interesting
as the voyage through the world is, there's an equally intriguing parallel
voyage that happens in the heart. Somewhere around Trang I got used to
Thailand. That is, I stopped being surprised and dazzled and feeling like I
was in a foreign land. It took a while, but it seems my psyche finally
accepted that this is the way the world is - the heat, the sounds, the smells,
the pace, the wooden, concrete and tin buildings. I became comfortable. But it
was somewhere between Ayuthaya and Chiang Mai that I fell in love with this
place. Not that I wasn't having fun before, but I now feel so warm and
privileged to have this big block of time in this delightful country. It's
funny about Chiang Mai - I never intended to go there when I was planning my
trip from back home. It sounded a little dull. But you don't know unless you
go - it turns out to be my favourite city here so far. (Slap a beach on the
edge of this sucker and I'll refuse to leave.) It's tourist friendly but still
a town very much for the locals as well. The old town at the centre is
surrounded by a moat and the newer part of town outside of that spreads out
to the rivers near by. It's clean, and just marginally cooler than down south.
And, best of all, it has beautiful green mountains hanging above it
visible from the streets. On Sunday I was surprised to find some of the major
roads shutdown but this was soon explained by the swarms of street sellers
that began setting up for the weekly market - by far the best street market
I've seen here yet. Marvelous crafts, jewelry, fabrics, clothes, junk, food,
buskers and street performers that went on for blocks and blocks. And best of
all, the vast majority of the shoppers were locals. Us farangs certainly were
part of the scene and welcome, but it was not staged for tourists. (I hope to
get back there some Sunday and stock up on a care package for home.) I've
rented the bike, I've toured the mountains and countryside a bit, and this has
simply strengthened my love for this land. I'm very happy to be here -
especially in the North.
External geography:
-- The
countryside. I can't begin to describe all I've seen and felt in the last 3
days. 3 days - that's how long I've been an easy-rider here. First let me say
that this is rugged land. This is not the so called rolling hills that they
speak of in Ontario. Here's a statistic I read somewhere: one of the provinces
I'll be travelling through has 85% of its land with a slope of more than 45
degrees. That's mind boggling - 45 degrees is very steep. The roads are great
and have very little traffic. They're generally extraordinarily windy and
climb high over the mountains dropping steeply down to the river valleys
beyond. Sure there's some dog-sized potholes, and sudden patches of dirt and
gravel, but these are just reminders to not get carried away. For the most
part the pavement is new, clear and inviting. But it's the land that dazzles and delights
- hairpin turns revealing elephant camps,
orchid
farms, grazing bulls, cabbage
fields, and always the brilliant forest draped over the steep hillsides. At the
high points you can see the small settlements way down below in the flat
valley bottoms - crops growing, slash fires burning - and endless mountain
tops off into the blue distance of Burma. On the second day of bike touring I
went through Don Inthanon park, home of the highest peak in Thailand. You know
how every now and then in your life you have one of those days that has to be
called simply perfect? They are few and far between, but that day in the park
was one of them for me. I was astounded, delighted and blissed the entire day.
I suppose the best part was the hike through the
sub-alpine savannah
ridges near the summit, with tropical forest on one side and a near vertical drop-off
on the other. I thought I had the entire area to myself, but as I re-entered
the forest I heard a bunch of voices up ahead. Rounding the corner I
encountered a group of 6 or 8 saffron robed monks enjoying a day out. I took
their picture, they took one of me sitting in the midst of them, and they were
genuinely delighted and excited when I could show them the
photo
right away from the digital camera. Laughter and good cheer all around as I went my own
way with an even bigger smile back to my waiting bike. As the day grew long
and the road took me down to the valley beyond, I encountered a fabulous
resort in the middle of nowhere overlooking the farm fields I had viewed from
on high and, beyond those fields, the
peak
I had earlier wandered on.
Definitely Chang o'clock. I took a book to the patio deck but it remained
closed as I watched the sky turn from deep blue through subtle purples, pinks
and oranges to dark maroon, and the
moon
dancing behind drifting clouds. I've
headed east now, pretty much to the border, and work my way north tomorrow.
This is a biker's paradise: I can't imagine how it could get any better and
I'm pleased as punch to have my two wheels, my bank card, my health, and this
whack of time. I can't promise I'll get to Vietnam - this is too good: I may
get stuck.
There's so much I've left out. I guess that's the way it has to be.
Bye for now. Please each of you take care and stay well, and if I don't get to write before Christmas - have a great holiday. (In case you're wondering, I'm pretty much ignoring the fact that it's Christmas over here - easy to do when it's sunny and in the 30s.)
Born to be wild...
...Byron