12th
The Final Countdown (Cue GOB’s entrance music…)
A little over 48 hours left in Thailand. Strange. Two long months, but two fast months. Out with street food, unbearable Thai heat and humidity, and living out of a suitcase. In with Vienna Beef, unbearable Chicago heat and humidity, and living out of the good ol’ apartment. I’ll keep this brief, seeing as I can share this all with anyone who’s still reading in 3 days - in person. Plus, it’s much more exciting with the 89,650 pictures I took and was unable to upload to the site. But before I go, I must recount the madness up here in Chiang Mai from the past 36 hours. I’ve picked up another Hunter S. Thompson book, so apologies in advance if I’ve been inspired. Any similarities are merely coincidental, or a blatant attempt of me trying to rip off HST. ———- Fear and Loathing in Chiang Mai: Shocks to the Closed-Minded Soul…. The Short Trip from NYC to CHI, via Thailand…. One Man’s Personal Limit of Perspiration Chiang Mai City, to all appearances on the surface, seems to be a microcosm of the Thailand experience, contained in suburban proportions. A respectably manageable night market, hundreds of Buddhist temples packed into a handful of blocks, and adventures to thrill the tastes of any traveler: multi-day treks into the jungle, elephant rides, bungee jumping, hill tribes, off-road Jeep riding, and sex tourism of every conceivable flavor. After two months of traveling, the scale of these operations in comparison to the sprawling madness of Bangkok gives this town a quaint, boutique vibe. But for many of the travelers I have met here, fresh on the backpacking path, brains still rattled from half-day jet lag coupled with pure and utter culture shock, Chaing Mai has proved to be all too much. But it didn’t all start this way. On my first night in town, I decided to check out the regionally-renowned Night Market. It’s fair to say that any market in Thailand (let alone Southeast Asia) which can take claim to the label of Day/Night/Afternoon/(Adjective) Market sells approximately the exact same things. Thai scarves and silk, lanterns, wood carvings, paintings, fisherman pants, etc. They’re all nice, and its still fun to look and see. But I was on a direct mission for the food component of this market. I’ve blindly accepted the fact that all food is good here. But I wanted the right vibe, and settled on the fourth place I saw. I hadn’t barely finished ordering when a girl at the next table leans over and says “You sound American.” Turns out she is a New Yorker just starting her trip, and we got to talking about all sorts of things. It was damn nice to be able to share some crude sarcasm with an American. Humor doesn’t translate well. It’s nights like this that make me realize how small the world is. This is a girl who I randomly run into in Northern Thailand at some random seafood restarant, who had a roommate from Highland Park, IL (and thus understands the lunacy of the Jewish Princess mentality), and has journalist friends in NYC. Very strange. Dinner leads us to join her friends from a trek for a night of drinking. Which led me to one singular conclusion: karma is a very real, potent thing. Not in the Western sense of “goes around, comes around”. But in the sense that situations and scenarios have vibes and feels to them, which are horrendously palpable in moments of the weird. Our drinking leads us to a strip of bars stocked with beers, ubiquitous pool tables, and ladies-for-hire. I think nothing of this, seeing as I’m quite entertained with the billiards and a game of “lost in translation” with some of the French trekkers. But the lone Canadian is truly shocked, and covers his nervousness with an incessant string of jokes. Karma: -1; Travelers: 0. Things seem to be going smoothly enough until a couple of Dutch girls have hit their drinking limit and are getting sloppy. Insisting on more danceable music, taking pictures to fill in gaps in their blackouts the next morning. Another hit to karma. But then: karma strikes back, and things get sour. One of the girls is trying extra-hard to be “sexy” and loses her balance, knocking over two clay potted plants and a standing fan. At this point, I’ve read enough Hunter S. Thompson to know when a scene has turned foul and it’s time to jet. I quickly pack up my things and I am ready to flea. I know I’ve got a least a couple of these folks beat in a footrace, but I also know the time to go is NOW and we’re still standing there. Karma strikes again: one of the backpackers tries to negociate a fair price on the damages, and it ends with the bartender telling us all to just leave now. Too easy. Those girls may have an extra couple baht in their pockets, but karma is a very real, potent thing. Also, I happen to be a partially-trained medical non-professional. But even without this training, I know how to treat people with decency. Some others do not: the vernacular use of the term “lady-boy” by Thais has resulted in some travelers thinking they have free license to tack on whatever term they can possibly think of to refer to a transgender person. Personally, I find it utterly derogatory. The whole idea of transgender may be quite foreign to most people, but the idea of human decency should not be. If a person lives their life as a female, then they are a female. Enough said. Anything else is bad karma. On lighter notes: I have a couple more Wats to see, and I will fill the remaining time with a sincere effort to stop sweating. Be well, see all y’all in a short while. Sawadee indeed.
