Chang Mai: There goes my string...

  Chiang Mai, Thailand
Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Chang Mai 3

Well, that's the title of the book that Nanda is reading at the moment, a compilation of short humorous travel stories, but it's also what I thought when I opened the bag of cleaned laundry, only to find 60% of my remaining underwear missing. It's amazing how often underwear goes missing during the laundry service, but I hardly believe mine really merit the attention of some kind of perverted washerwoman (or man). This was the latest in a string of things which have gone wrong in the hotel in Chang Mai, where everything was so comfortable and nice the first time I was here. First, the breakfast included in the price of the hotel - which I really enjoyed last time I was here - had been reduced from a full english to a cup of instant coffee and a minute slice of bread with some butter and jam, as the restaurant was closed. Then the alternative route of getting into Laos (more on that later) via a freshly opened border, advertised in the hotels folders, turned out to be so alternative, that it became apparent after half an hour (and the proposal of just about every alternative), that it was actually not possible. But the staff really made an effort, and my undies were luckily found, hanging as trophies on the washerwoman's bedroom wall. No, just kidding.

Chang Mai 8

This is the second time round for me in Chang Mai, and as they've luckily not moved any of the sights, I'm having no trouble whatsoever finding my way around. The last time was in January at the height of the tourist season, and even though they're are about ten times more tourists in the streets of Chang Mai than in the streets of say, Mandalay in Myanmar, it still feels eerily quiet for Thai norms.

Chang Mai 11

A very valid question Nanda asked while we were visiting the many wats (buddhist temples) that abound in Chang Mai, was whether the colour of the buddhist monks robes actually signifies anything or, as is the case with my MDMA-bathrobe, the lighter shading just means that the robe has been worn and washed a lot more times (which in turn obviously implies a certain seniority). I know that the colour of the robe differs from country to country, with orange being the colour in Thailand, red in Nepal, India and Tibet, and yellow (!) for some visiting US buddhist monks, I spoke to in Dehli, but different shadings within the country is still a riddle to be solved (probably easily wiki-d).

Chang Mai 15

For day two of our stay in Chang Mai, we booked ourselves on an organised tour to reach the highest peak in Thailand in Doi Inthanon (a mere 2550 metres, any Nepalese would laugh at this). As we picked up all the participants to the tour, I smelt trouble when a group of elderly Lithuanians (*) boarded the minivan and immediately started to complain. The first complaint was that the van was too small, as they'd had a tour to the Golden Triangle in the northernmost tip of Thailand the day before, and then they'd been bussed around in a "real touringcar", admittedly with somewhat more people than the 10 we had with us this time, but still. Then, when the Lithuanians realised that our guide only spoke English, and not Lithuanian, there was an uproar, and anything the poor guide said, was drowned out by dismayed cries that they'd booked this tour under the presumption that the guide spoke fluent Lithuanian. The poor guide didn't understand the protest, and when a stupid fool, let's call him Barry for the moment, decided to help out by providing some Lithuanian to English translation, he was immediately promoted to Lithuanian Complaint Handler, first class. Meanwhile the Swiss guy, Alexander, sitting behind us, obviously fluent in German, Italian and Lithuanian, wisely kept schtumm and just smiled. Barry feigned sleep for the rest of the trip.

Lupenis

One thing we noticed about the Lithuanians, is that they get terribly uncomfortable when less than two of them aren't speaking at the same time. Usually just to repeat what the other Lithuanian had said about the multitude of wats, mopeds, trees, etc. we passed. Or the amusing misunderstanding which broke out, when one of the Lithuanians told the guide that the Thai had bad wine, which the guide blamed on bad "grapes", which the Lithuanians understood as "crepes" (with hilarious consequences...). Meanwhile, New Caledonia, where these Lithuanians came from, had leapfrogged over Somalia and East Timor, to become my least favoured next travel destination.

So where to from here? Well at the time of writing the jury is still out on that, as the original plan of getting to Luang Prabang in Laos in proving to be more difficult and time consuming than originally expected, so we're going through the original itinerary to see what can be skipped or shortened.

(*) Unfortunately they weren't really Lithuanian, but in actual fact French, but I'm very conscious of the fact that at some point in time, this may be read by my dear grandmother, so I've gone and plagiarised Douglas Adams in his book "Last chance to see", and swapped the nationality of the culprits in order to least offend. Sorry, Grandma!