Chiang Mai: Songkran

Chaos has gripped the moated perimeter of Chiang Mai’s old quarter in light of Songkran, the Thai New Year. Drive by’s from fully loaded pickup trucks are the norm, usually spurring revenge shootings from pedestrians. Children, let me emphasize this, children shooting at each other, leaving many of their victims floating along the river in their wake.

Thankfully it’s just a water fight. Quite possibly the largest in the world.

In its subdued form, the gesture of sprinkling of water over somebody’s head during Songkran is one of respect. I’m led to believe that the Thai philosophy of sanook (fun) and the hot season have evolved this tradition to its current state. That said, the old tradition is still alive. Temporary Buddhist shrines are set up throughout the city for people to bless the Buddha (pour water from a silver cup over a statue). Also, amidst theturmoil, a number of Thais have approached me, wished me a happy new year (sawatdee piimai khrap/khaa) and gently poured a small cupful of water over my head. I have witnessed the same people turn around and whip bucketfuls of water at speeding motorbikes as they pass.

My weapon of choice for the event:

It’s a little underpowered, I know, but at least it lets people know I will pop a cap if the need arises.

I’ve mostly been targeting kids during my day long walks around the city. To my defense, they're usually the ones who start it. I also shot a cop in the back before I ran off giggling. Does that add to my street cred, I wonder?

Chiang Mai: Drawer Treasure

They usually just keep bibles in hotel room drawers back home.

Chiang Mai: Optical Illusions

I picked up this shirt from the Chiang Mai night bazaar the other night. Partly to extend the duration between trips to the Laundromat, partly for a laugh… mostly to create the illusion that I’m a choice piece of tail (the idea being you have to pay to hang out with someone who looks this good).

Come to think of it, it’s probably better suited as a brief but accurate summary of my current state of being.

Chiang Mai: Muay Thai

I was sort of expecting something straight from a campy eighties action flick when I showed up at the Kavila Muay Thai Kickboxing Stadium. You know what I’m talking about. An eyepatched bouncer here, some loose livestock there, throw in a chicken wire fenced ring and Jean Claude Van Damme and we’re gold.


So I was really surprised when I was treated to a full blown cultural show.

I suppose, as with many other athletes, Thai kickboxers are a superstitious bunch. The fight starts off with a ritual dance performed by both fighters, which includes a quick prayer at each corner of the ring.

Each round is accompanied by traditional Thai music played by a three man ensemble
(one on a drum, one on cymbals and one with a flute that sounded more like a bagpipe). The fighters tap their feet and bob their heads to the rhythm as they box, though they let up on it in later rounds due to fatigue.

The fights are for the most part bloodless with fighters taking most of the damage from knees to the kidneys. It certainly looked painful anyway.

Chiang Mai: Charades

Buying something as simple as a bike chain can be quite difficult when both parties don’t share a common language. Anticipating this, I leafed through the appendix of my lonely planet guide to find out how to say bicycle in Thai (rót jàk-kà-yaan if anybody is interested). The problem is the language is tonal. Simply repeating the syllables results in nothing but gibberish (or possibly something offensive).

Anyway, I decided to try out my newfound vocabulary at a mom ‘n pop mini-mart close to the Chiang Mai night bazaar. It didn’t work out so well – the shopkeeper, unable to decipher my broken Thai, kept steering me towards the cigarettes and whiskey (staples for many a backpacker).

That was when I resorted to the next best thing. I grabbed a pair of imaginary bicycle handles and started pedaling furiously at the ground. I then stopped, reached out my right hand and turned an imaginary key. The process was repeated three times before things started to make sense. The thing only cost me 60 baht and what little of my dignity I had left.

It was only then did I that I realized how frequently I’ve been subconsciously overcompensating for my lack of the language by miming things out. For example, let’s say I go to a food stall - I point at the item I want, point at my mouth (which, come to think of it, seems a little condescending – it’s obvious where the food goes), then hold up my hands to negotiate a price (though I try not to anymore as I have picking up on the numbers). I worry a little that all these gestures may become a permanent fixture in my day to day interactions, even when I get home.

Chiang Mai: Sketchy Policies

It wasn’t until about 7:30 AM that I finally checked into the guesthouse and got myself good and settled in my room. I figured a quick snooze would get me back on track for an afternoon exploring the city. The nap was brief to say the least as I awoke to the sound of my door, the one I had locked earlier, clicking open (both deadbolts were broken). I didn’t have my glasses on at the time but I could still make out a blurry figure in the doorway. From it came a woman’s voice. She said:

“Sawatdee khaa” [Hello]

“You like I clean room?”

Considering I had only been in the room for no more than an hour and a half, I wondered why clean sheets and a mopped floor were in order. Perhaps my reputation precedes me? Make of that as you will.

Only when I shooed her away and closed the door did I notice this sign:

Officially, the memo absolves the guesthouse from any liability, should the room be broken into. Unofficially, it gives staff the green light to take off with anything valuable that’s not bolted down.

So it looks like my first order of business in Chiang Mai is to buy a bike chain to lock my closet shut. This’ll be good practice for future stops along the way, especially when I head into Laos and Cambodia.

The Night Train to Chiang Mai

Boredom got the better of me during the overnight trip to Chiang Mai. Being on the top bunk in a sleeper train meant that I couldn’t watch the scenery go by (there was no window and it was dark outside for most of the trip). Sleeping was made difficult by the food and drink vendors, who had taken to shouting Thai into my bunk every time they passed.

To pass the time, Hobbes and I went a few rounds of thumb wrestling. He lost, mainly because tigers don’t have opposing thumbs:

We also tried rock, paper, scissors but I ran into some difficulty determining what Hobbes played: