Walking Chiang Mai

Before I embark on a trip, I get a guidebook. Lonely Planet gets a lot of flack, but I like their guides. They have thorough histories of each country, plenty of food and lodging options, and they have detailed walking tours. I love walking tours. You can go at your own pace and you allow yourself to be immersed in the culture.

The Trusty Lonely Planet Guidebook has a walking tour of Chiang Mai's Old Temples, but I found it lacking. So to anybody on the LP staff that may be reading this, I humbly submit to you my own Walking Tour of Chiang Mai.

Get up at 7 AM. Stop whining. You'll have to trust me. Pack a huge bottle of water and a map. Skip the bacon and eggs from your hotel breakfast buffet. Your meal is waiting for you outside.



Start at Pratu Chang Pheuak, the North Gate. Along the way, stroll through one of many morning markets. Absorb the sounds; The barbeque skewers sizzling, the old ladies yelling, the tuk-tuks honking at you to get out of the middle of the road. Buy a few pork skewers with rice. Maybe some beef balls, or two. Find a shady spot under a tree by the moat. Take a picture of the North Gate. Take a moment and sit by the moat as you eat breakfast.



Cross the gate, mind the traffic, and head south. Follow the signs to the statue of the Three Kings. Along the way, take note of the Wats, or temples. Go inside one, and ask one of the monks, "Wat's the name of this one?" The monk will laugh awkwardly and not answer you. Persist. When he gets annoyed, ask him "Wat's the matter, homie?" Run away, and quickly. Those monks are fast.

Stand at the base of the Three Kings. Count the number of kings. If the number is not three, check the map. You're in the wrong city.



Head east toward Pratu Suan Doak, the West Gate. Take a picture. Make sure you're clear of traffic. Curse the city planners for not making Chiang Mai pedestrian-friendly. Don't take too long, though, you'll make a scene. Once you've collected yourself, head south along the moat. Note the partial castle wall to your left as you walk. How cool is that? Have you seen a city where a wall surrounds the entire central area? Take a moment and ponder this as you come to where the west and south walls converge.

Hang a left. On your left is Bunk Hat Park. Enter the park for a few minutes' rest. Note the peaceful scene, as locals relax, and families enjoy the day. Find a spot by the pond and gaze at the school of fish running rampant. You'll love the park so much, you'll be tempted to stay here for an hour. Fight it. We're not done!

Exit the park and make your way to Pratu Chiang Mai, the South Gate. You'll pass more street food vendors. You'll see more pork-on-a-stick, balls of questionable meats, and pre-made curries. You'll pass a cart of crickets. Note the bemused expression on the cricket lady's face as she can't believe you'd actually eat any. Now note her horror as your pop five in your mouth without flinching. Spit 'em all out when she's not looking.

Find the gate and take a picture. Don't worry if you can't get close up to it, it's not your fault the tuk-tuks hate you. Scamper back across the gate and head north to the center of the old city. Stop for a iced coffee sold by the road. Marvel at how such a wonderful drink can come out of a baggie.



Make a right on Ratchadamnoen Road. Take it to the final gate, Pratu Tha Phae. You'll come across a boisterous market, with live music, more street food, funny souvenirs and the like. Take a picture of the gate, just so you can show your friends you've been to all four. Head east down Tha Phae road. Ask where the Night Bazaar is. What, you'd think I'd actually tell you? Where's the fun in that? You might need to know some Thai at this point, so make sure you memorize some phrases. If you don't know, don't panic. Use gestures. Thais are smart, they'll understand you.

Keep walking. Walk some more. Do you see the Night Bazaar? Here's a clue. It's near the Pornping Hotel. You can't miss it.

Once you've made it to the Night Bazaar, head right for Let's Relax. Order the 3-hour package with the foot, arm and Thai Herbal massage. Oh, calm down, it's only 30 bucks.

As the masseuse bends your body in ways you didn't think possible, laughing at you while you screech in agonizing pain, rejoice! You've walked Chiang Mai and are being rewarded handsomely.

Just mind that herbal compress. That crap burns.

For more pictures of Central Chiang Mai, go to my flickr page here.

Independence Days

This is the second Fourth of July I've spent abroad.

Last year, I spent America's birthday in Peru, knocking back Pisco Sours. This year, I celebrate my country by riding on Wonton's back.

Wonton (that's what I hear the guide call him, anyway) is the elephant taking me on a journey through the exotic, Mae Wang River Valley. I had signed up for a one-day trek through the valley, a two hour drive from Chiang Mai.

I'm with eight others on this trek, none of them American. There are two Dutchmen, both young, very tall, and very friendly. A little too friendly. There are two elderly men, also Dutch. They may be partners, but I never ask. There are two brothers from Indonesia And there is a father with his daughter, both from Vietnam. It's like I'm in the Amazing Race, except I don't have partner. Except Wonton, who'll be anything you want him to be if you keep feeding him bananas.





I spend an hour with Wonton, before saying goodbye and hopping on a bamboo raft. The raft is narrow and porous. We're advised to take off our shoes, lest we get them wet. The guide knows his stuff. With each twisting turn, water slips up from the cracks of the raft, drenching my shorts. I spend the last five minutes of the ride with my ass hovering half a foot over the raft, my arms pushing me up. "Are you uncomfortable?" The guide asks me? "Oh no, I'm good thanks. Just trying to keep dry."

After toweling off, we trek through a tribal village, taking pictures of the farm life and the villagers. The young Dutchmen go crazy with their SLRs, pointing them inside the huts, snapping away at the women putting their babies to sleep. The father from Vietnam turns to me in disgust. "How would you like it if they came to your house and took pictures of you?" I nod, hoping he didn't see me take two pictures of the cutest baby in Thailand.


*I couldn't resist...*

We stop for lunch. We talk over vegetable soup and rice. One of the brothers from Indonesia tells me of his time in New York ("It was very cold"). One of the old Dutchmen tells me of his stay in Orlando ("I HATED it!"). I tell of my time in Amsterdam ("Oh, it was fantastic. Especially those Space Cakes...").



The rest of the day is spent walking up and down the valley, through rice fields where the farmers let us try our hand at planting stalks. We stop at a waterfall and let the mist cool us down. We walk through another village, only to find the villagers not at home. Our guide leads us to a set of picnic benches away from the village. Everyone talks to their companions about the sights they've seen. My eyes wander and catch a glimpse of a rooster scooting down the road. I follow it, trying to take a candid picture. The villagers look at me like I'm insane. I'm not. I'm just an American.

We pile into our minivan bound for Chaing Mai. Everyone passes out from the long hike. I put on my iPod, Coldplay filling my head. "Strawberry Swing" is on repeat. I close my eyes. What am I doing here on the Fourth of July? Shouldn't I be home with friends, pigging out on hot dogs? Shouldn't I be catching fireworks off the Redondo Beach Pier? Shouldn't I be out in the L.A. smoggy sunshine, feeling proud to be an American? Whatever. I've been there, done that. I hadn't fed bananas to an elephant. I hadn't ridden on bamboo. I hadn't planted rice in the mud.

I wonder if every Independence Day should be spent in a foreign land. For new experiences. For stretching yourself. For doing things you never thought you'd do. For being truly independent.

Let Me Relax

The sign says “Let’s Relax”. What a great idea.

I had arrived in Chiang Mai earlier in the day, and I felt cheated. I’ve been in Thailand for three days, and not one massage. No time. My back and shoulders are starting a revolt. Now it’s my show. No relatives showing me around. No bizarre tours sucking away time. It’s time to relax.

I walk into the spa, located in the middle of the Night Bazaar. I’m greeted by four women, each with their hair up in a bun. “Swatika!” They greet me, as they bow their heads in unison, hands pressed together. I’m feeling good. I’m ready to cut loose.

I take a seat and flip through the selection of treatments. The first one I see is the Heavenly Package. It’s the cheapest package they have at 600 Baht, and I’m not one for reading fine print, so I immediately point to it. “This one, please!” They nod altogether. “Excellent choice, sir. This way, pleas” I rise from my chair to follow them, but not before catching the details of the Heavenly Package:

Foot Reflexology 45 min

Hand Reflexology 15 min

Back and Shoulder Massage 30 min

I freeze. Not feet. Anything but that.

I’ve had a phobia of bare feet since childhood. It started when I would sit at Dad’s feet on Sunday afternoons, while he watched football. I would complain to Mom that something in the living room smelled really bad. She’d laugh and go back to folding laundry. She didn’t have the heart to tell me that it was Dad. It was always Dad.

Since then, I’ve been known to faint when touched by a foot. Suggest a pedicure and I’ll retch. The thought of a total stranger touching my feet for 45 minutes sends a chill up my spine. This isn’t a good idea. I think I should leave. But the four ladies have surrounded me as I get up. These women are smart.

I’m lead to a chamber of leather chairs as new age piano plays through the loudspeakers. At the base of each chair is a bowl of scalding hot water covered with flower petals. I plunge my feet in. The initial burning sensation gives way to, dare I say it, relief. I wiggle my toes in the hot water. An unassuming Thai lady takes my left foot in her hands. She washes the dirt away. I’m confused. This is nice. This is soothing. But she’s touching my feet! Who knows what odors are emanating from down there? There could be insect colonies buried between my toes.

Yet Agnes is gentle. That’s not her real name, but if I’m imagining anybody touching my feet, it would be an Agnes. She increases the pressure, loosening the taut fibers in my sole. She digs into every crevice. I think about the ordeal Agnes must go through every day, as sweaty tourists come in, feet festering in unwashed socks. “Are you OK?” She asks, as my whole body shakes involuntarily. “Yes. I’m sorry. Please keep going…”

Agnes moves on to the right foot with the same loving care. She alternates between caressing and manhandling. She takes both feet in her hands and bends them, loosening the joints, relieving tension. She’s about to move to my arms, back and shoulders, when it occurs to me that it’s been 45 minutes, and I am not relaxed. My feet feel heavenly, but I’m still tense. Why is this? Did Agnes not do a good enough job? Do I need more time on my feet? Or have I identified with my foot phobia so closely, that I just can’t let go?

My massage ends, leaving my body less rigid, but not at rest. I’m served a final cup of tea with cookies. Agnes and the other ladies watch me as I mash the cookies into my mouth, spilling crumbs. I can’t even relax when I’m eating.

I leave the spa, feeling that Thailand and all her Agneses are not finished with me. They know my fears. They see my hesitation. They know I need help. They know I’ll come back. And they won’t rest until I’m cured. Until I’m relaxed.

If only my feet would let them.

Extreme Makeover: Bangkok Edition

"We're meeting my friend at State Tower tonight. You need new clothes." Pinky tells me. I open my mouth to disagree, but a look at my Mountainwear Wicked Tee, khaki shorts and sport sandals, and I decline to speak up.

We look at jeans outside MDK, one of Bangkok's megamalls. Pinky picks out a pair of button-fly designer jeans. I throw a fit. The jeans fit snugly. I hate snugly. After trying on three more pairs, I find a button-fly that works. "You have money?" Pinky asks. I have a feeling this isn't the last time I hear this question.

We hit Siam Paragon, one of the trendier malls in the city, for dress shirts and shoes. Pinky hands me 5 shirts from Zara. All linen, all way too small. Turns out a large size in Thailand is not the same as it is in the States. Pinky finds me an XXL shirt, and it's a perfect fit.

Pinky shows me a pair of Timberlands that turn out to be ridiculously comfortable. "How much is all this gonna cost me?" I blurt out. "Don't worry about it. Think of it as an investment." I get the feeling that she's had experience in helping clueless guys out with their dress sense.

"All my guy friends, they have no clue." She had told me over lunch. "They're too nice. Here in Bangkok, all the guys say I love you after meeting you."

"Isn't that a little extreme?"

"No! It's true. And the women here...they're crazy." Uh-oh. I'm not liking where this is going. "They worship farangs."

Farangs is the term used to describe a white man in Thailand, but I start to think there's more to that term that Pinky isn't telling me. "They're so disgusting!"

"What, the women or the Farangs?"

"Hello?! The Farangs." Pinky's not one for sarcasm.

We walk through Siam Paragon, and on cue, they materialize. Farangs, some skinny, some obese, all old and European, walking alongside petite Thai women. The Farangs are dressed in tank tops and flip-flops. I suggest to Pinky that maybe I should try dressing like them if I want to get a date. She shoots me the look of death.



After a return to Pinky's apartment and two hours of figuring out how to put on button-fly jeans, we meet up with her friend Tuang at The Dome at State Tower. It's a rooftop bar by the Chao Phraya river, and it has the best view of the Bangkok skyline. The scene is sophisticated. Live jazz plays from the dome as men and women, dressed to the nines, hold actual conversations. The three of us find a vacated couch on the balcony. We talk about life in Bangkok, what to do in Chiang Mai and Phuket, what it's like living in the States. Across from us, two tall Farangs chat it up with their dates. As the music plays on, they burst into laughter, and I wonder if they can understand each other.



I hadn't planned on spending an evening at The Dome. I only thought of seeing the sights, walking the streets, eating the local cuisine. I didn't expect a makeover. A look from the rooftop of State Tower, half a world away from everything I know, proved me wrong. There is more to Bangkok than I thought. I'm a better person for it.

But I still haven't figured out those button-fly jeans.

More pics from State Tower and Bangkok can be found here.

Good Morning, Bangkok

Cousin Pinky wakes me at 6:30 am. "Come on, we're getting breakfast."

"What, now?"

"YES! We have a long day today."

Pinky lives off Sathorn Road in the heart of Bangkok. She never has to cook. Her kitchen is a minute's walk from her apartment, to the local food market.



The streets are lined with food stalls and fruit stands. Everthing is fresh, cheap and calling your name. Barbeque pork? No problem! Rambutans? Over here! Durian? None for me, thank you, but they're there if you want them!



They even have frogs! I turn to Pinky and ask how they taste like, but she's run off for some fried rice. Meanwhile, I do a fantastic job of standing still and getting in everyone's way. I can't help it. I love local markets. There's so much color, noise and aroma. It's a blissful assault on the senses. And to think that this happens every morning, and once again in the evening for dinner. It's enough to make me think about relocating. Or at least start a dragonfruit stand back in L.A.



I think I can pull it off.

Pictures and Update

I've uploaded my pics on flickr. Check them out.

Also, in a bit of exciting news, I've been asked to pitch some ideas for a travel site. Yikes! So there may be a small delay in posting.

I'm working on it, believe me.

Jetlag

I don't like you.

Home

After sixteen uncomfortable hours in the air, combined with a mild bout of TD, I have returned.

As much as I like traveling, there's something special about crashing on your own bed and vegging out. It's great.

Stories to come soon.

Soundtracks

My trip would not be the same without my iPod.

Coldplay's latest album has been the perfect soundtrack from my trip. I've had "Strawberry Swing" and "Life in Technicolor" on repeat. When looking out on the blue waters of Phuket, it really is a perfect day.

Other songs on my travel playlist: "Alone in Kyoto" by Air, "Return To Innocence" by Enigma, and "O Mexico" by Dosh. These are songs that provide the perfect space while you ride the train to your next stop, or when you're in the airport, anticipating your next destination.

I'm always looking to add to my playlist, so any suggestions are more than welcome.

What's in your playlist?

Winding Down

It's my last night alone.

I return to Bangkok for a couple days with relatives, and then it's back home. I thought two weeks was enough for my trip. Not even close.

Physically, I'm toast. Though I've slept well, I've walked a lot. Taking in every sight, sound and smell drains you too. And with every waking thought being, "What do I do now?", the trip becomes less of a vacation.

I've racked up a bunch of pictures, videos, and most importantly, stories. This trip has produced an abundance of stories. I look forward to sharing them with you.

Cheers.

Harrowing

Over the past week and a half, I've gone through some experiences that would normally keep me from leaving my hotel room. Let's just say, my wallet is lighter, and I have a receipt from the Chiang Mai Central Hospital's emergency room.

But this is why we travel, right?

Things I Didn't Know About Malaysia

1) The official religion is Islam.

2) Drug trafficking is punishable by death.

They don't mess around here. Oh, and they cane people here too.

Wish me luck.

Rest

In Phuket (pronounced poo-GET). Two days of...um, I don't know exactly.

I was nearly pressured into taking a half-day tour tomorrow. The saleswoman asked, "Why you here by yourself?" All I could say is, "Relax."

And I need it. Seven days of traveling, of finding things to do. All under the Thailand sun and humidity. My body is weary. Even with the massages.

It's time to take a break from my vacation.

Life Is Good

I got the massage, and a 3-hour one at that. I had one two days earlier, but that was a measly hour and a half. My body is not agreeing with me right now, but whatever. Life is good.

CM has been a blast. The weather hasn't been so humid. I did some trekking up in the mountains. I was able to walk the city in a whole day. I can't feel my legs right now, but whatever. Life is good.

Off to Phuket tomorrow for a two days of doing absolutely nothing.

Yeah. Life ain't so bad right now.

On My Own

I have arrived in Chiang Mai. The hotel I'm staying in is posh. Not so posh. It's posh-ish.

My stay in Thailand has been great. Although my Thai is lacking. I've confused the saying for, "How much?" with "You have died." I have a ways to go.

There are no relatives or friends in CM, so I am on my own. And somehow during my time here, I'm getting that damn massage.

Bye for now.