Koh Kood

While still in Bangkok, I received an email from a friend of mine whom I had met on my first trip to Vietnam in 2008, a free-spirited Aussie named Dick. We met up again during my second trip to Vietnam and I'd informed him about my month in Thailand. He told me that he too would be in Thailand on the island of Koh Kood (or Kut) visiting his friend there, a Thai lady, and threw out the idea that I ought to visit there. Well, after cancelling a few important appointments (ha ha) and juggling my schedule sufficiently (ha ha ha) I was able to squeeze a trip to Koh Kood into my busy itinerary. Besides who wouldn't want to visit one of Thailand's representative island paradises? I'd been to Koh Samui back in 2000, but it was fairly developed then and I can only imagine how it looks today. Koh Kood, by contrast, is small and still relatively undeveloped. It sits off the coast of southeast Thailand not far from Cambodia and the only way to get there as far as I know is by boat or helicopter.

I returned to Bangkok from Chiang Mai in the same fashion by which I had gone the other way, that is by overnight train in a second class sleeper car. I didn't even inquire about first class passage for this trip since I had no complaints with my experience in second class on the on the way to Chiang Mai from Bangkok. My veteran Thai rail passenger status also prompted me to eat a large dinner before boarding and to bring my own snacks and drinks as I now thought I knew all the nuances of how to make my journey as pleasant and cost-effective as possible.

Upon arriving in Bangkok around 9 AM I proceeded directly to the guest house I had stayed at about 10 days before and where I knew I owed about $45 US for 3 nights there that the manager had previously insisted that I had paid even though I knew I hadn't! She had made a mistake in the ledger and credited me with someone else's payment and at the time refused to admit even the possibility that the ledger, akin to some biblical stone tablets, could harbor in its orderly columns of neat figures a simple clerical error. Well, 10 days of enduring what was probably a chafing mismatch that screamed out at her from the usually sombre and content pages of the ledger had worn down her resistance to the idea of a mistake and softened her stance considerably and she smiled graciously and gladly accepted the payment I offered when I reappeared in the lobby. I rewarded her patience and understanding by staying an additional 2 nights there.

The logistics of getting from Bangkok to Koh Kood include the Sky Train, a 5 hour bus trip, an overnight stay in the town of Trat, a group taxi ride to the ferry dock, a 2 1/2 hour ferry ride, and finally another group taxi ride to wherever you're going on Koh Kood and you do need to know that final piece of information before you arrive. If you're traveling in style you can fly to Trat and take a speed boat that makes the crossing to Koh Kood in only 1 hour but why travel in the fast lane when the journey is so soothing?

Anyway, in Bangkok take the Sky Train to the Ekkamai station which is right beside the Ekkamai bus terminal. Cherdchai Tours has buses all day that depart about hourly for Trat. Trat is the central point for ferries to many of southeast Thailand's islands and gets a lot of traffic just for that reason. While I'm sure Trat has much to offer the determined and imaginative traveler, I really didn't see much reason to stay there except for getting to the ferry the following day. You can buy a ticket for either the fast boat (called 'speed') or the slow boat (called 'express' so as not to feel inadequate or inferior) at many of the guest houses in Trat. The taxi rides to and from the ferry dock in Trat and on Koh Kood are included in the ferry ticket price, but you will need to tell the taxi driver on Koh Kood where you want to go as there's no central hotel area on the island. Luckily for me, Dick had given me the name of the Cozy Guest House, a good low-budget acccommodation option on Trat near where he was staying with his friend Wan.

The ferry ride over to Koh Kood was smooth and pleasant and I was quite happy to be on the slow (express!) boat as I was comfortably reclined on the upper deck in a lounge chair enjoying the mild breeze and views out over the sea. After docking at Ao Salad on Koh Kood, there's only one route to take off the boat and out onto the street where a large truck taxi will be waiting to take passengers to whatever locations are given to the driver. There's essentially a single paved road that runs along the western side of the island and rounds the northern and southern ends before petering out. Currently the Ao Salad dock is the northern terminus of the road.

While the taxi was making its way southward from the ferry dock, during which we passengers were huddled together in the back in the covered bed being jostled to and fro and occasionally startled by the loud bang of the cover colliding with an overhanging tree branch, I looked back over my shoulder only to catch sight of Dick and Wan sitting at a roadside cafe. I yelled out and Dick yelled back, but I couldn't stop the truck and figured it was best to continue on to the guest house with my bags anyway. It's not a big island if you're sticking to the main road.

By the time I arrived at the guest house, Pi Noi, the owner was talking in English on his phone and handed it to me to speak to Dick as I stepped into the guest house lobby area. It's not a big island at all.

Travelers in southeast Asia are often bombarded with incessant solicitations for every kind of service imaginable, but this is notably absent on Koh Kood. Strangley enough my initial reaction to this was a feeling of abandonment since I had grown so accustomed to it, but it didn't take long to start enjoying the peace and freedom dividend that Koh Kood offers.

Once you're checked in to a guest house you'll have access to rental motorbikes and bicycles and likely discover many destinations within walking distance. I had another option afforded me though since Dick and Wan had had her motorbike shipped down from her home in Chiang Rai and they let me know I was free to use it while on the island.

The house Dick and Wan are renting, only a few hundred meters from the guest house, is perched up on a hill just south of Klong Chao beach, so my first full day on the island I decided to take them up on the motorbike offer and do an easy self-guided tour of the parts of the island accessible by motorbike.

As the taxi ride had come in from the north I naturally chose to start the motorbike tour by
continuing southward on the island road into territory I hadn't yet seen. The road is lightly traveled but offers up some challenging hills that will plunge a motorbike into a sputtering stall if you're not knowledgable of the upcoming climbs or really paying attention. In some cases you'll round a curve only to find yourself at the base of a steep wall-like climb and very likely in too high of a gear to scale it. Nothing to do in that situation but stop, drop it into first gear, and try to torque your way up the ascent at whatever speed you can manage. Once when I was in this situation I inadvertantly popped the front wheel of the motorbike up in the air when I juiced it a little too hard. I was glad I didn't have a passenger on the back at that point or they would likely have been plopped unceremoniously onto the pavement with outstretched legs and something very much unlike a smile on their face.

When you're not preparing for or dealing with a steep climb or sudden curve the motoring is a pleasant affair given the thick forests of palm trees and calm scenic beaches and sparcity of traffic. Koh Kood still has a down home feel to it, in a southeast Asia sort of way, with many cafes and restaurants that look like they were converted by parents into commercial establishments after first serving as forts and clubhouses built by their kids. There are many unpaved roads branching off the main paved road along with many a hand-made sign announcing this restaurant or that resort dangling amateurishly on nearby palm tree trunks. I can't imagine any of these resorts falling into anything other than the rustic category, but that's all part of the charm of Koh Kood. Koh Kood is such a beautiful place, however, that one could be forgiven for having a 'resort unless proven otherwise' attitude about it. Throw up a few thatch roofed huts along the water here and you've got yourself a bonafide resort. Maybe the huts aren't even really needed. A few well-slung hammocks might suffice.

I first preceeded straight to the southern end of the road where there's another boat dock, Ao Yai, and then backtracked to an unpaved road I'd noticed on the way down with a sign, this one looking professionally made, pointing the way to a resort.

When I arrived at the resort after an undulating meandering ride of 1-2 km I instantly could see that this resort was a real one. The bungalows and grounds at the Ao Phrao Resort are high quality and well maintained and their guests were definitely not of the backpacker variety.
As it was now lunchtime, I sat at one of the tables in their open air restaurant and enjoyed a very well prepared and delicious rice and chicken dish. The conversations around me that I could catch little snatches of carried the trill of what I'm guessing was Russian.

After lunching at the Ao Phrao Resort and waiting out the brief rain shower that sprinkled the southern part of Koh Kood, I started back down the unpaved and now somewhat muddy road on the motorbike towards the main island road. I eased the motorbike along the road that was red as a knife wound cut into the jungle, doing my best to avoid the puddles and finesse the bike through the channels cut by running water with my feet protruding like outriggers in case the motorbike should suddenly slip and snap to the side. After making it about 3/4 of the way out to the pavement I had became comfortable with nudging the motorbike along with occasional boosts from the throttle and quick small pulls on the handlebar and with its muted slippery response. The only problem is that as I neared the pavement and the ground beneath became firmer and drier the squishy yielding feel of the tires, the back one specifically, didn't abate. I slowed and looked back to confirm what I knew, that the back tire was flat.

After stopping and fuming for a few minutes over the malediction the jungle spirits had cast upon me, I calmed myself enough to consider my options for handling the situation, options more productive than sitting by the side of the road querulously demanding of the ground, trees, and sky to explain what I had done to be in this predicament.

I had never bothered to get a SIM card for my mobile phone for Thailand, but realized that my phone, which thankfully and inexplicably I had with me, had Dick's Thailand phone number in its database. At least it was his number from last year. So back to the Ao Phrao Resort I went on foot to try to explain that I'd like to use a phone to call Dick. After liberal use of gestures and my phone as a prop, I succeeded in getting one of the staff to call the number. At many businesses the scope of the English and other foreign languages spoken by the staff is limited to that of the normal course of business and trying to step outside those bounds results in half nods and confused polite smiles. Anyway, the call was made and there ensued a brief phone exchange in Thai and the phone was handed to me and Dick's familiar Aussie voice was like a lifeline tossed my way.

Dick offered up a few suggestions including just leaving the bike and hitching a ride back out on the main road but he knew exactly where on the island I was and also knew a small market that sold gasoline was nearby and that they could probably help me out in repairing the flat.

I walked back down the unpaved road and found the gasoline shop sign in front of a row of shacks along a small stream, but couldn't determine which was the shop and there was no one standing around. I wandered over to one of the shacks with a footbridge that crossed the stream that led to a covered porch where about a dozen Thai men were sitting around talking and smoking. Using the English words 'gasoline' and 'motorbike' I was able to get one of them to point me back to where I had been standing before. As I turned and began walking back over the footbridge I heard one of the men shouting something. He shouted again and as I began to turn to look back I felt something slam into my upper calf and looked down to regard a small dog aggressively attacking my leg. One of the Thai men was running towards us brandishing a small machete and I admit to a terrified instant in which I was uncertain just who or what the weapon in his hand was intended for. As I kicked at the dog which had not relented, he stood over it and threatened it with his lethal weapon until it finally backed off but not before taking another few lunges at my leg. I sort of wished the man had not come out as then I would have taken great joy in kicking the dog off the footbridge into the filthy black stream that oozed and gurgled below.

Unfortunately the damn dog had broken the skin on my leg with its bite and I was immediately concerned about its health only out of concern for my own of course. I could see it was a female evidenced its hanging teats and that it looked at least generally healthy and wasn't foaming at the mouth at least. It was also apparent that it was a family. The man was saying something to me, hopefully apologizing, but there was nothing more to be done at that point so I continued back to the gasoline shop to deal with my transportation problem.

I walked down to the shop and this time there was a man out front. Again, using sign language and the obvious sibilant sound effect and the word 'motorbike' which seems to be understood all over southeast Asia, I was able to convey without using any English, which he would not have understood, or Thai, of which I can say 'hello' and little else, that I had a flat tire and that the motorbike was located down the road a bit (about 1 km or 1/2 mile). Following Dick's suggestion I also mentioned his name, Khun Dick, which sort of translates as friend Dick, and tried to make sure they knew I knew him and was a friend. This was to preempt any temptation the shop staff may have had to begin licking their chops at the prospect of this helpless stranded wealthy (it's relative) tourist who desperately needed their help, all of which without question I was. Whether or not he knew Dick who had already spent considerable time on Koh Kood I didn't know, but a second man appeared and they jumped on motorbikes and the first motioned for me to hop on the back of his and away we proceeded.

I had left the motorbike at the point where I first noticed the flat tire thinking it not good to ride the flat, but the 2 shop men held no such restraining views and 1 of them drove it back to the shop where they were joined by 2 more men and 1 young spectator and they began feverishly working on removing the tube of the flat back tire. While they worked they talked animatedly amongst themselves about I had no idea what but I imagined they were working out how much they could fleece me for and what each of them would buy with their respective cuts of the action. At the same time I was pouring water on my fresh dogbite, the only immediate treatment I could think of, and wondering what possible turn for the worse events could take. I was already thinking of the length of time it takes for rabies treatment and that I had less than 1 week left on my Thai visa and only 1 month on my visa for Vietnam and how I would manage to receive effective treatment. My thoughts tend to careen off towards the darkest scenarios when I feel events have started turning against me as those of the last hour or so most definitely had.
They took about 10 minutes to complete the job, choosing to install a new tube instead of patching the old one. That way they can justify charging me even more I cynically mused to myself as I began to gear myself up for a confrontation over the pending presentation of the repair bill. 3 of the men then wandered away leaving me with just the first I had spoken to. So he's the hatchet man I thought, and the others are no doubt waiting and watching from not far off. He then motioned me towards the nearest shack and then he himself wandered away. Oh I see, the bill collector is over there in that shack and he's going to do your dirty work for you. What kind of man do you think you are? I strode forcefully, but unable to completely hide my slight limp, over to the shack which turned out to actually be a small general store but it was difficult to know by looking at it from the outside. Inside was a young girl standing behind a counter. Oh, now I really see the setup. Use the young girl on me so I'll relax my defenses and compliantly hand over whatever exorbitant sum she requests. Well, aren't you all such clever operators? I managed a slight smile and braced myself. '90 baht' she said non-chalantly through her Thai accent. 90 baht = $3 US.

I paid and turned to look for any of the 4 mechanics and thank them and offer an additional tip, but they were nowhere to be seen. So I cranked up the motorbike and started back down the dirt road, relaxed and relieved to have emerged from my difficult situation unscathed and feeling good about the island and its inhabitants and with nothing now to trouble my carefree state of mind but a lengthy and painful rabies treatment.

As I reached the end of the unpaved road I realized I should fill up the fuel tank on the motorbike and went back and purchased a liter from the girl in the store. On my way back out, for the third time, I noticed some of the mechanics sitting under a cover off the road near where I had first left the motorbike with the flat tire and they had left theirs when retrieving mine. They shouted and waved and I returned the greeting, but thought I'd better not press my luck by stopping again. Whether they had treated me differently from any other tourist I do not know, but they had certainly done a good job of undermining my cynicism.

Even though Koh Kood is a relatively small island, I only explored the southern and western part of it. As with anywhere, you can take as much time as you like to see a place and with Koh Kood seeing the east side of the island is not easy. Maybe it could only be done on foot, by boat, or by off-roading. I know there are a few resorts on the east side, so there's obviously some way to get there, but it's not on a paved road. My feeling is that making it over there would be a worthwhile endeavor especially if seclusion and nature are to your liking.

From my guest house, I was able to walk to the Klong Chao waterfall, which is well worth the small effort it takes to get there. It's like a scene from a tropical paradise movie with a ribbon of water cascading over a rock ledge into a large pool perfectly suited for a swim and surrounded by green jungle. There was another path, a small road really, into the jungle near the waterfall. It appeared to angle towards the northeast in the general direction of that wild east side of the island so I was naturally drawn down it. It was a very pleasant trek through forests of thick tall trees and I eventually emerged into a cleared area that was a working rubber tree farm. The rubber trees on the island are about 1 foot in diameter and usually have a spiral cut in the bark with a small cup to collect the bright white latex that seeps out. The latex is so white it looks unnatural. At the far end of the cleared area I came upon a shack with some small guard dogs who erupted into raucous barking once they'd detected me. I'd had enough of Koh Kood dogs and turned back, not sure how far I was from the east edge of the island. It would have to wait for another time.

Dick and Wan are doing more on Koh Kood than just kicking back and contemplating the pristine beaches and rich sunsets. Their house sits on a tree-covered mostly undeveloped hill right above the water, the sort of location that could really use a cafe, so they tapped into their Koh Kood entrepreneurial can-do spirit and decided to put one there. While I was there, in December 2010, they had cleared off a small plot on the water-facing slope and had begun gathering the necessary local wood and other materials that would be needed to fashion a simple cafe that would blend harmoniously into its surroundings. Wan had done the necessary bureaucratic legwork to obtain the proper permits, etc. so that it was an above-board strictly legal enterprise and to avoid getting on the bad side of the Koh Kood island political machine.

It was only a few weeks later that Dick sent me the first photos of the newly opened cafe, appropriately christened The Viewpoint Cafe. From Klong Chao beach it's about 2/3 the way up the first hill you'll encounter as you continue southward on the island road and it's about 50 meters off the road towards the water. In December there was a small bar called the Chill Out located roadside just below where you'd exit the road to get to the Viewpoint. See below for photos.

Almost every day during my stay on Koh Kood I would pay a visit to Dick in the late afternoon when he was ready for a respite from the the cafe work and we were both ready for an afternoon beer or 2. I've always thought of Dick as having a Hemingwayesque appearance and possibly because of this I fell into a Hemingway sort of reverie on one of the afternoon strolls to their house that went something like this:

"Dick raised the hammer again but paused this time as he glanced out over the restless sea at his shoulder, the sea that was his constant companion and the keeper of the souls of so many and whispered their secrets and vented their rage. The angles of the sun and shadows told him that this was the time to pause and pay homage and lay down the hammer. The day had struck another note and summoned him away from the forest back to the house he shared with Wan. He knew this was the time that Chris was walking to the house looking down at the cracked road at his feet cursing the bright air and the heat. The beer bottles in his pack announced his approach like the tolling of church bells. A very small church that could fit inside his pack."

Well maybe I should have left that on Koh Kood but have a look at Dick's photo below and maybe you'll offer me some leniency.

After a too short stay of only 3 days I jumped on the ferry taxi in the rain (it's true) and myself and about 15 others already on board began making our way back to the Ao Salad dock. Perhaps it was the rain but the truck taxi was not exactly firing on all cylinders that morning and stalled out a few times before finally dying on the road. The driver ran over to a house by the road and retrieved some tools and we all got out while a few men tipped the cab forward and worked on getting the engine running again. The nice part of sharing the only taxi on the island is that we all knew the ferry wasn't leaving without us because if it did it would be making the crossing to Trat devoid of passengers! Besides this was the express ferry so what would be the rush? After 10 minutes or so of futile tinkering and banging on the reluctant engine a back-up taxi was called that delivered us to the dock.

After I'd left Koh Kood and worked myself into a state of petrifying fear as a result of reading too many horror stories on the web of rabies and its symptoms and treatment, I realized that Dick and Wan could do me a tremendous favor if they could locate the dog that had left its toothmarks in my leg and get a report on its health. I contacted Dick about this and within a day he responded that they'd found the dog and its owner and as far as they knew the feisty little pooch was not suffering from any illnesses other than being an overly protective new mother. I was genuinely relieved to hear this of course and it made perfect sense. I know the prudent course of action for me to take would be to seek out rabies treatment anyway, but I feel secure enough that the dog's aggression was due to its new litter and that since it's a family pet they would notify Wan if it did begin to exhibit any symptoms so I'm choosing to do nothing about it. I only need live long enough to visit Koh Kood at least once again.

View from my reclined position in an upper deck chair just prior to the "express" ferry departing Trat for Koh Kood.

View from one of Koh Kood's many peaceful west side beaches.

View from the back porch of Dick and Wan's house from where I enjoyed daily beers.

Khun Dick. Hemingway, no? Just a little? He has also been known to impersonate Santa Claus during that time of year.

Looking up at the completed Viewpoint Cafe.

Some of the cafe customers. There have been no complaints about the view.

Chiang Mai

Most of what I'd heard about Chiang Mai was in regard to elephants and hill tribes and I was a bit surprised to see an actual functioning mid-size city upon my arrival via the overnight train from Bangkok. The surprise might have been avoided had I bothered to read that it's Thailand's second largest city though further reading convinced me that isn't actually true, it's somewhere between 5th and 8th depending on how one wishes to define it. Nevertheless my expectations would have been a little more grounded in reality.

I was able to get to the train station in Bangkok by taking the Sky Train and transferring to the subway which has a stop at the Hualamphong train station. It's a busy place with tens of platforms with trains rumbling in wait of departure. I had wanted to purchase a first class train ticket for an enclosed sleeping berth but they were sold out so I went with the next step down, second class, thinking as a result the trip might be somewhat of an uncomfortable ordeal. I boarded my car and was pleased to find a comfortable seat set up as one of a facing pair next to a window. The sleepers were assembled by combining the 2 seats for a lower sleeper and swinging down an upper compartment from above. Immediately my misgivings about traveling second class were dispelled.

I was greeted soon after boarding by a member of the railroad staff, a friendly but frumpy middle-aged Thai man who probably could have used a little advice on how to best do his hair and make-up. Most have heard about Thai ladyboys, males who dress and act like they're not of that gender but of the other. Many of them appear quite stunning as they tend to go to extremes to try to overcome the undeniable realities of the chromosome pair that mother nature dealt them. This one was not one of those. He struck me as a short dumpy man with long hair who threw on some make-up and earrings, like one of your uncles in drag for a neighborhood parade. Anyway, Ladyuncle was very friendly towards me after finding out I was traveling alone and was quick to recommend a few items from the menu for dinner. I interpreted the friendliness more in a motherly manner than otherwise. As I had brought absolutely nothing on board with me to eat or drink, I ordered an overpriced dinner from the menu along with a soft drink and Ladyuncle protested with a maternal smile and a nod to my masculinity that a big man like myself ought to have a beer with dinner and a large beer at that. Glancing at the prices on the menu I winced a bit at this suggestion but then agreed thinking that maybe he was right and a big man like myself should have a big beer. Maybe Ladyuncle could see qualities in me that had eluded myself and everyone else I had known throughout my entire life. After securing my order for dinner and also breakfast for the next morning, Ladyuncle spun on his heel and sacheted away down the corridor with a slight air of triumph.

The train ride and sleeping arrangements were good and I arrived the next morning in Chiang Mai feeling fairly well rested. Ladyuncle had seemed especially enthusiastic at around 6:30 AM when he marched down the corridor clapping his hands and barking out in Thai to rouse any passengers who dared to remain slumbering. Later he presented me with my bill of 550 baht for the dinner (including a large man-size beer) and breakfast. Considering that the train ticket was 770 baht it would be more than just a stretch to call the train food a good value. I had noticed the locals and other inveterate train passengers had planned ahead and brought their own food and drink and were able to resist the onslaught of Ladyuncle's flattering sales tactics. As I was walking down the platform after shuffling off the train with my bags I cast a parting glance towards the train only to spy Ladyuncle leaning out a window smiling and waving to me as if he were a mom seeing her son off to some new chapter in life. I smiled and waved back. Sometimes you have to just go along for the ride.

Most train passengers arriving in Chiang Mai get from the station which sits well east of central Chiang Mai into downtown by piling into the back of a little red pick-up truck taxi with bench seats in its covered bed. These 'soorng-ta-ou's are lined up in the parking lot when the trains arrive and you just pick one and jump in. I witnessed a strange incident as I was waiting for mine to fill. A group of foreigners had filled up a neighboring vehicle and the driver was conversing with them at the back of the truck when he suddenly shouted 'Everyone out!' and backed away from the truck and began shouting and making a boisterous spectacle of himself in the parking lot as the passengers began slowly climbing out. He shouted at some of the passengers (at this point it was all in Thai) as they smiled back in a sort of puzzled way at his puffed up reddened face. When this had gone on for about 10 seconds he began looking around the parking lot at the numerous faces that were now turned in his direction and he seemed to reach a watershed at which he felt he was compelled to take it up a notch and continued the shouting and gesturing to no one in particular. I had never seen anything even remotely like this during my few weeks in Thailand and I believe it's not really in the Thai character to behave this way unless they've been gravely offended. His parking lot tirade sputtered on for almost a minute before he was finally spent and retreated off to a nearby building under the collective incredulous gaze of everyone within earshot. My guess as to what transpired is that the passengers colluded and tried to negotiate a flat group rate instead of each paying the indivdual fare. I can't imagine what else it could have been nor why the driver exploded the way he did and made such a silly annoying show of himself. Business is business. Just ask any of the thousands of Thais who routinely overcharge tourists and foreigners for anything and everything they can. The fare I paid to get downtown was 50 baht or about $1.65 US.

I spent 9 days in Chiang Mai exploring the area by foot and bicycle while enjoying the northern Thai cuisine and inhaling the fragrance of incense that wafts out from the numerous Buddhist temples that dot the city's surroundings. There are a lot of foreigners in Chiang Mai and many of them seem to have figured out how to stay in Thailand at least semi-permanently. In comparison to Vietnam Thailand's visa policy is quite liberal. One option available in Thailand for those over 50 is a 1-year retirement visa that requires a bank balance of 800,000 baht (about $27,000 US) and can be renewed annually allowing one to remain in country indefinitely. Having a business or job is an option for those not yet at that ripe old age. Interestingly, most foreigners entering Thailand by air get an automatic 30 day visa with their passport stamp, but for those entering by bus it's only 15 days.

The central area of Chiang Mai is surrounded by a square moat that was once reinforced on the inside with thick walls, but of these only vestiges now remain at the corners and a few other points around the periphery. The moat is about 25 meters wide and still holds water and has an inlet stream at its northwest corner. I even saw a few locals fishing in it but am dubious about their prospects unless they were fishing for plastic bags or old shoes. But what do I know, they're the locals and I'm just another tourist.

Most of the tourists seem to gravitate towards the central area inside the moat and I was no exception. There's a higher concentration of hotels, restaurants, coffee shops, etc. there but there's also a lot to experience beyond the moat if you dare to venture out. The area just east of central hosts a few newer high-rise hotels and retail establishments including a Starbucks and a McDonalds both of which looked to stay fairly busy. To the west is Chiang Mai University and farther out a national park and mountain range.

If you're in Chiang Mai during the weekend don't miss the walking street events each Saturday and Sunday during which sections of street are closed to motorized traffic except for the occasional motorbike or vehicle of course. They're very much like street fairs in the US with a multitude of vendors selling anything you can imagine. I stumbled into the Sunday walking street since it was taking place right outside my guest house and I was suddenly jarred with the realization that I was the only one moving amidst a motionless crowd that were all facing a loudspeaker that was blaring out a song. With the strings of lights hung up and down the street and the flaming floats drifting in the surrounding sky, it was as though I had wandered onto the set of Apocalypse Now. My herd behavior mechanisms, which I like to live in denial of, then kicked in and I, too, stopped and faced the speaker feeling now much more comfortable that I was following the proper protocol of whatever was going on. It soon became apparent that the music was the Thai national anthem and this was how respect was being paid by the Thais and, by extension, all the tourists and expats on the street.


When the national anthem ended and I could once again resume going through the motions of a free thinking autonomous individual, I naturally drifted over to the food area. The selection and quality of what was on offer there was overwhelming. And mouthwatering. There was even sushi which I partook of in generous fishy quantities.

Note : My Bay Area friend Scott Klimo who spent 6 years living in Thailand and now has a family with his Thai wife informs me that it was the King's Song that was being played and the people were all facing a Thai flag.


The terrain around Chiang Mai registers much higher on the hilly scale than the coastal areas of Thailand that I've seen. The national park to the west boasts a respectable mountain, Doi Suthep, and there are a few trekking and mountain biking businesses that will gladly take you on a guided, and sometimes very pricey, tour there. I went the low-budget self-directed route as I'm wont to do and rented a good quality hardtail mountain bike for a day for $6 US and headed out on my own from city center.

After about 2 hours of cycling at about the halfway point of the climb I saw a sign and a parking area and, more than willing to stop and rest, turned off to investigate. It was a self-guided nature trail with a well-made sign map that described the many interesting sites awaiting those willing to trek its 1 km or so length. I hid the bike in some of the abundant tropical underbrush and started down the steps. Almost immediately I encountered a young man coming out who looked Thai to me but greeted me in American English. He was one of the multitude of American Asians similar to those I would see every day back in the Bay Area but now here we were running into each other on a hiking trail west of Chiang Mai, Thailand! He gave me a thumbs up on the trail and warned me of a couple of slippery spots along the way and also gave me a heads up on the monk. After descending down some fairly steep steps and crossing a strem I came upon a large rock that sat at the entrance of a cave and there, sitting in the expected lotus position and draped in a saffron robe and reading a book was the monk I had been alerted to. Judging from the personal articles laying about the place it appeared that he made the cave at least a temporary home. He looked up from his book with a monkly expression of serenity and acknowledged me with an unperturbed calm monkly smile. I responded with what was no doubt a goofy self-conscious grin not knowing how I should behave when springing upon a forest monk in his natural environs. The forest monk is an official variety of Buddhist monk in Thailand, a fact that I picked up from visiting some of the temples around Chiang Mai. Beyond smiles and nods we really had no further way of communicating, but I wish I had been able to learn something about his life there.

Perhaps it was due to my own lack of perception, but I didn't notice any of the other natural attractions posted on the trailhead map, but it was an enjoyable mountainside hike through thick foliage and over a rushing stream. Periodically my ears were assaulted with a loud high-pitched tone that resembled something you might hear while passing by a busy machine shop but this came from some local species of fauna, maybe a cicada-like insect.

I resumed the arduous task of hauling my sweaty self up the hill happy that the route to the top was all on pavement as it was taking considerably longer than I had anticipated. There were very nice views of Chiang Mai to be had all the way up and I came across the ruins of an ancient temple while exploring an unpaved side road as I neared the summit.

After finally reaching the summit I was relishing the thought of turning around and retracing my path of the past few hours in a rousing exhilarating fraction of that time. This was where my high end bike and its good brakes really proved their mettle as you wouldn't want to do this descent on a dodgy bike. I was easily able to stay with the flow of traffic and even managed a couple of adrenalin boosting passing manouvers on the 10+ kilometer drop back down into the valley to Chiang Mai. I didn't start the descent until about 4 PM and when I wasn't too focused on remaining on the pavement and on my side of it, I looked up enough to catch about half a dozen cyclng Thai's huffing their way up the hill. I was happy to have fellow cyclists on the hill and was impressed by the fact that they had the common sense to wait until the temperature and sun had dropped before engaging that strenuous climb. This was another case in which it was no difficult task differentiating the locals from the clueless tourist.

One aspect of Chiang Mai that can't escape notice when looking down from above is the air pollution. While not terrible and hopefully not too unhealthy it's there, a gray smoky haze puddled on the valley floor. I was told by a resident expat that at certain times of the year it gets quite bad as a result of the slash and burn agriculture still practiced by those selfsame hill tribes that draw so many visitors to the area.

While I didn't bother visiting a hill tribe village as they've mostly all evolved into developed tourist attractions, I did briefly interact with a hill tribe member near the start of my bike descent from the top of Doi Suthep. He was walking up the road strikingly and oddly dressed and holding what appeared to be hornlike musical instrument that might draw comparisons with something out of a Dr. Seuss book. I had to pull over and check him out. He was most likely on his way home after working the tourists down below who disembark the buses to visit one of the royal palaces open to the public, but he didn't seem to mind pandering to my curiosity. He indulged me by blowing on the horn contraption and producing a sound that could not be called music even in a generous regard and then pointed to a cup fastened to the end of his noise-making collage to remind me of another kind of generosity as I had now taken so much of his valuable time. After fishing around in my pockets for a tip worthy of the live peformance my ears had just been treated to he did at least allow me to a photo to remember it by.

I also had an elephant sighting while in Chiang Mai, thereby fulfilling all my initially misguided expectations of what I would see there. It happened after dark as I was strolling along the moat that surrounds the central area. The lumbering pachyderm and his rider, known as a mahout, were across the road stopping at each business while soliciting donations and attracting quite a lot of attention. I've read that this has become that fate of many of Thailand's elephants that were once used in logging operations but have now been rendered obsolete due to reduced logging activity and the adoption of more modern methods. Having been indentured to destroy their own natural environment and then turned out on the streets I hope elephants such as these are not in fact cursed with their acclaimed memories.

One of the more impressive Chiang Mai temples, partially restored.

At an eclectic little museum at a temple east of central Chiang Mai, these antique Thai irons were heated with live coals.

A view into some nice open space along the west boundary of Chiang Mai University.

I liked the name of this club in central Chiang Mai though I never ventured inside.

This funny little car from maybe the 60's was in a central Chiang Mai temple parking lot. A Datsun Bluebird.

View down into the city's valley from the flanks of Doi Suthep mountain west of Chiang Mai.



Quirky hill tribe man giving me a roadside demo of his 'musical' instrument.

Tearing Myself Away From Bangkok

Chiang Mai was the main destination on my Thailand itinerary and after picking up my visa for Vietnam at the embassy I had no more excuses to linger in Bangkok and began preparing for departure.

I find that even if I've spent only a few days in a guest house or hotel room I begin extending emotional tendrils of attachment no matter how dismal the place may actually be and find myself battling an internal inertia when the time arrives to pack up and leave. The guest house room I had been staying in Bangkok was no exception to this even though it had no TV and was all of about 10-12 square meters in area. After over a week of staying there I had worked out a nicely efficient system of strewing my belongings about, fully utilizing the spaces between bed and wall, and created a Twister-board layout of foot-sized areas of clear floor space so that I could successfully step gingerly about. All my loose odds and ends had nudged and crammed their way into the single drawer in the 1 foot square bedside table. And now I had to force myself to dismantle this carefully crafted living space and reconfigure it back into my single shoulder bag and backpack. The shoulder bag will at times seem overly accommodating when packed as if my belongings had all gone on a crash diet while at other times packing it devolves into the proverbial task of stuffing 7 pounds of feathers into a 5-pound sack. I have yet to determine just out how this difference arises but suspect one of those pesky laws of thermodynamics that even Einstein conceded he was at a loss to do anything about. Regardless I once again succeeded in condensing all my belongings into these 2 carryable bags and was ready to check out.

First, a redaction regarding an earlier comment I made about the Sky Train in Bangkok not serving the area around the Chao Phraya river. That statement is correct with the small exception that, well, the Sky Train does go to the Chao Phraya river. It goes right up to it, lets you off at the central pier, and apparently (I didn't venture beyond the central pier) dips under the river and continues into the western side of Bangkok terminating I don't know where exactly and I am a bit gun shy about venturing another guess. From the central pier one can jump on one of the many passenger ferries that work the river like a fleet of water borne city buses with the low fares to match. It was one of these ferries that dropped me off at a point along the river that allowed me to finally explore the Banglamphu backpacker area where I found lots of the expected backpackeresque goods for sale at backerpackeresque prices along the main thoroughfare, Khao San road. One of the more interesting products on offer from numerous vendors was an astonishingly comprehensive assortment of fake ID's. I took the opportunity to renew my California driver license while there as it was so much easier than a day spent at the DMV and the vendor, he was a Thai guy whose name escapes me at the moment, personally guaranteed its full acceptability. Now that, my friends, is service!

I had noticed on my tourist map an attraction labeled the Jim Thompson Musuem that was located very close to my guest house and thought I should at least pay it a visit without really expecting very much. It's the former home of Mr. Thompson, the American founder of the Thai Silk Company and it turns out he was also a modern-day renaissance and international man of intrigue. I didn't know much about him before visiting his museum but became fascinated by his story and the time and place, 1940's - 1960's Thailand, in which it unfolded. It's worth looking up and reading about if you aren't familiar with it. True to his extraordinary style of being nothing like the rest of us he vanished during an afternoon stroll while on vacation in Malaysia in 1967 and has never been seen or heard from since and his fate remains a confounding mystery about which conspiracy theories swirl to this day.

Upon checking out of the guest house in Bangkok I was quite pleasantly surprised to find out that I had already paid for my last 3 nights there even though I had absolutely no recollection of having done so. The manager was quite insistent that I had and even cracked open the guest house ledger to point out the entry, indelible and irrefutable, indicating that I had in fact paid up for my stay and that I might as well put an end to my feeble charade of pretending to deny it. I knew that I had not paid as even though my memory is not quite as sharp as it once was this was not something that would slip through my mental cracks. I also knew that there was no point in arguing with the resolute and sincere manager as the mighty ledger had spoken and she had staked her integrity on it and that was now far more important to her than the $45 US I owed her. I also knew I would be passing through Bangkok again upon returning from Chiang Mai and by that time the situation would likely have resolved itself and she might be more open to the idea of me reaching into my backpack and pulling out some cash and handing it to her.

Part of the former home of Jim Thompson, now a museum, reflecting his own spin on traditional Thai architecture.