Bus Breakdown Part One: Musical Mountain

So the bus has broken down as I travel from Luang Probang to Vang Vieng. South East Asian transport is less than reliable. Disgruntled, me and fellow passengers sit on the tarmac in the sun smoking cigs and drinking whiskey some German Guy has pulled from his bag. It tastes like dog piss. I go for a stroll on my own. Seeing a comfortable looking mud mound at the side of the road I perch and get my music and speakers out. I select shuffle mode on the i-pod,'Talisman' by 'Air' comes on and I feel like writing.

It's going to be three hours before the mechanic will be out to help us. We're only one hour and some into the six hour journey, frustrating. However the French, electronic two piece are calming my being, their tranquil sound lending itself favourably to the scenery. It's pretty peaceful up here. We're not deep in the jungle but the bush is dense and a serene quiet percolates the music. The mountains are perfect in form as though hand crafted by The Lord himself. 'The Upsetters' come on. Nothing like a bit of Reggae to raise the spirit. The sun is harsh on the back of my neck but an occasional cool breeze strikes a decent balance. A butterfly floats above a flower, hovering perfectly over the pollenous plant. I see what Mohammed Ali was talking about.

'New Slang' by 'The Shins', probably more apt a song for the circumstance. I'm feeling pretty helpless right now. Nobody is around so I have a good sing although the effect of copious cigarettes and booze on my throat in the last few weeks does nothing for the rendition. The activity of the clouds make interesting shadows across the monumental landscape. The Laos wilderness continues to amaze. Aha, 'Nirvana', 'In Bloom', I guess I should feel pretty angry right now. This is meant to be a 'VIP' bus, it's fucking terrible, no air conditioning and barely able to roll up a hill...then breaks. I'll let them off though, it's a Third World Country after all.

I start throwing stones. Don't underestimate the fun a guy can have throwing stones. There aren't any real targets amongst the forest in front of me so I just launch them as far as I can. My arm hurts though so I turn my attention to a stick near the road. It's got the remnants of a plastic bag on top of it, recently caught in the wind perhaps, eye level, so I practice my baseball pitch. Not that I have any particular plans to develop this talent. There's a wooden hut buried amidst the greenery on the hill face. What the Hell is that used for? There's so much I don't understand about this country. 'Hey Joni' by 'Sonic Youth', funny coincidence. 'Queens Of The Stone Age' next, I'm kind of enjoying myself now, just me, up a hill, throwing stones. Since arriving in Bangkok it seems I've had people around me constantly, in contrast to the perception of being a lone traveller. Sometimes a man needs space, a sanctuary of sorts to revert to for peace and reflection. This mount is becoming just that.

'Sam Cooke', 'Chain Gang'. I wouldn't be surprised to see a line of convicts up here cutting grass. It's hot and removed from society, a perfect location for inmates to use up some energy. 'Embrace The Chaos' by 'Ozomatli' introduces itself. I guess that's exactly what I've been doing since I got here in Asia, certainly in Luang Probang, that was an insane stop. Stayed an extra four days embracing chaos, and now Neil Young. Oh, Neil Young.

Time to walk back to the bus I suppose, see if there's been any developments. No point getting too wound up about the situation, especially after listening to all this marvellous music, difficult to be pissed off after that showing. I guess we'll get there eventually.

Eazy Rider

So me and the American have decided to crack on with our plans to bike through Northern Laos. There are plenty of reasons to oppose doing this; certain death on the craggy roads being a prominent one; but the fact of the matter is that doing so is unquestionably the best way to see this country, for me the only real way to get an authentic snapshot of this land and it's people.

It's no exaggeration to say that I have already fallen in love with Laos. I cannot eulogize enough about the intense beauty of the landscape here, and if common word is to be believed, the North of the country is as rustic and dynamic as it gets in Southeast Asia.
After much consideration I've decided to ride on the back of my travel buddies bike as opposed to manning a separate vehicle. Since crashing a scooter in Pai my confidence has been shot when it comes to automobiling, and seen as though I ate concrete on a reasonably developed highway in Thailand it's probably best I leave it in the hands of someone who knows; and Tripp can handle a motorbike.

We set off from Luang Nuamtha, a reasonably developed town in comparison to whats apparently in store. Tarmac road soon becomes dirt track. Within an hour we are in real wilderness. The jungle continues to thicken as the roads deteriorate. The scenery is so graphic, a complex labyrinth of green's entwine to color abundant hills. Around each bend the countryside expands in a new way, similar but completely different. It's impossible to get bored of this. Tree's clamor for space on steep cliffs, fighting like school children in a dinner queue. The scene is motionless but somehow entirely vibrant and active, like a William Hogarth street scene, or more poignantly, a Van Gogh interpretation of Southern France. However this picture needs no embellishment.

The fields and mountains have a mystical quality, we are riding through intense jungle now. Four or five hours North of the town we initially departed, a few kilometers from the Chinese border, I begin to get thirsty. Time for another beer. Riding on the back of the vehicle I can indulge in alcohol as I wish, and I frequently do. As though the Cosmos is reading my mind we pass a remote village were some kind of celebration occurring. A marquee of sorts has been erected with a band playing and a carnival atmosphere pervades the small community. We've passed a dozen villages like this but you usually only see a handful of locals, predominantly children playing by the road as the rest of the occupants are at work tending animals or rice fields. It's seems everyone in the locality is involved here.

Me and Tripp discuss whether our presence will be welcome at such an intimate looking affair. Traditional dances are performed whilst some people don symbolic head wear and attire. It's a tough call. After a brief discussion I cajole the Yank into engagement. We apprehensively stroll over to the gatherings solitary stall, locals simply stare at us, it's hard to ascertain what their thoughts are at this initial stage. We order a beer each, remarkably warm I should add, and take a seat on a dusty mound at the side of the road. From this position we can observe the developments of the humble gala. Within a minute a swell of locals begins to grow behind us on the driveway. We cant see it necessarily, as we have our backs to them, but their presence can be felt, sixth sense like. With an occasional turn of the head they appear to be just gawping at us and talking amongst themselves. They still give no indication of their feeling towards us, be it good or ill. At this point my heart is racing.

Suddenly an elder, or at least somebody with some kind of authority in the tribe, intervenes, shouting at the collective of watchers that has impulsively amassed. We try to decipher what he's shouting about. Is he telling them the attention they give us is unwarranted? That we are undeserving of such a response? Or is he telling them to back off and give us some peace? Tense moments. Fortunately the latter is true. Within seconds the same man is ushering us away from the dirt floor to his table. The mood has completely changed. We are given fruit and whiskey shots; the foulest whiskey Ive ever tasted I have to admit, tastes like excrement; regardless I of course proceed to drink a succession of them. They are so welcoming and friendly, so hospitable and genuinely nice, it's all a little overwhelming. Everybody wants to say hello, apart from those who are seemingly quite disturbed by our presence, those who cant work out why we are there?

We buy a bunch more beers and share them with the collective of guys we have settled with at a table. The beer is poured over ice into a dish and passed around, I guess this is common practice. What's mine is yours in this operational communist country and our beers have soon been consumed, as have my Marlboro Red's, which have been set upon like a bloodied carcass by a pack of Piranha. Again, we buy a whole load more beer and cig's, anything to prolong this wonderment. We are suddenly encouraged to join the circular dance under the marquee. We're not sure if there is a religious element to this but with a twist of the arm me and Tripp are dropping shapes with the locals in the loop. It seems that a traditional dance and a more contemporary effort alternate through the day. The former is a slowy. Men and women have set roles here, interchanging rhythmically, synchronized in their movements and performing some kind of specialist hand movement, a wave of sorts. The second dance is crazy. The records are fast and upbeat, the style of the music somewhere between rock and trance, think of an instrumental version of 'BOB' by Outkast. Genuinely good stuff! This boogie is far more liberal and free and unrestrained, youngsters gyrate on each other like rampant dogs. For such a sexually conservative society this is far out. After a few songs I'm in the mix, girls and boys alike basically humping me to the music, unbelievable scenes.

The kids at first were hugely suspicious of us. They aint seen many whitey's before, up close and personal, but before long me and Tripp are chasing them around pretending to be dinosaurs. They are genuinely in raptures, fear becomes fascination within a few hours.
After many hours we decide it's time to move on to the next town, however light is diminishing rapidly. We ask if it's possible for us to sleep in the village, they nod their heads but I'm not sure they understand the request. We depart to a cluster of waves and wide smiles, only to return an hour later when we decide we are totally onto something good and should see the night out. Upon return they haven't broken stride, partying the night away and so pleased to see us again. They trust us now, good and proper.

Me and the American proceed to drink a shit load more of the whiskey shots, I estimate I've had twenty by 10 o'clock, as well as a hamper of Beer Laos, a fine brew. before long me and Tripp are leading a junior dance troop on the make shift dance floor. Kids copy every move we do as elders laugh at their tables at the peripheral edges. I get the 'Lawn Mower' out, they get the 'Lawn Mower' out, Tripp leans back like MC Hammer, they lean back like MC Hammer. Leading a twenty/thirty strong dance procession in a Laos village is surreal. We have them headbanging and doing star jumps, then Tripp finds a large stick and curates a limbo competition...I genuinely don't think they've ever encountered this concept before. Amazing.

It took a while to win the tribe over but by the end of the party we are all good friends. The Laos people are a fine breed, so laid back, and these country folk are as friendly as I've ever encountered. Laos is a Fourth World Country, incredibly poor, in the bottom twenty nations world wide. Looking at the fertile, lush land and fine nature of the natives I find it difficult to comprehend. I can only assume that these people don't want to 'develop'. 80% of Laotians live outside of the cities under communist rule and judging by my insight into their lives they seem reasonably content with their lot.

Today, as a backpacker, I got what I've been after. An exotic, subterranean, rustic experience. After a misunderstanding about where we were staying we had to head to the nearest town which was 42 km away. The journey to Muay Singh was a challenging one, pitch black through mountainous jungle on the back of Tripp's bike who is riding drunk as shit. Well worth it though. Today we experienced what every sincere backpacker craves, some kind of transplantation into another world.Today we achieved just that. It was special, gorgeous and glorious. Tribal partying in Laos is good.

A Timeless Town

Luang Probang is the most beautiful of South East Asian town's, one of the best looking places I've ever set eyes upon. It is undoubtedly tourist centric but the local council or assembly, or who ever it is that runs this place, appear to have limited the effect of flocking holiday-makers upon the regions aesthetic and cultural disposition.

The street's are quaint and peaceful. The colonial French influence is prevalent in the architecture and brick work. Tall, wooden windows sit elegantly on bespoke guesthouses; no two look the same. I get talking to a local shop owner who informs me that signs placed outside shops and advertising hoards are strictly outlawed here in order to keep the pristine style of the town in tact. How wonderful.

I find myself in staying during low season, which is quite favorable. It's not so busy but then this place just wouldn't be quite right all crowded. Because of the quietness I have to endure increased harassment from Tuk Tuk Drivers and Opium sellers but its not a major problem. I really do need to stop befriending street kids selling bracelets though. They follow me around day and night now, whenever they see me, asking for coca-cola or cash. I'm worried observers think I'm a pedophile.

Although this place is famed for its timeless traditions and authentic Oriental culture and scenery, there's plenty to do for an adventuring backpacker like myself. Most places close at eleven in keeping with communist law but there are a couple of exceptions. There is a strange discotheque which stays open til 12.30pm where locals and tourists party side by side. I went there with a guy from Bangkok the other night who knew the words to every song. He danced like a nut for hours. After the disco it's off to the bowling alley which oddly closes at 3pm. Here it's pretty easy to while away the hours rolling and drinking. The Dude and Walter would be in heaven.

In Luang Probang I find myself on my own for the first time since my initial arrival in Bangkok. My travel buddy of three weeks Tripp departed in the early hours of this morning. I'm going to miss that Crazy American Bastard. However the tranquil lay of this land lends itself to a lone wanderer. I'm sure I wont be alone for long. So today I'll hire a bike and take in more of the landscape, and view the monks who rise early for prayer at 5am, lining the Mekong River. A new phase begins in my journey, let the butterflies saunter.

The Hang Over

The day after the extreme night that was. I wake up dazed and confused, in a state aligned with Robert Plant's famous line. What happened last night? Was it all just a strange dream? I hear the Malaria tablets I'm taking can induce psychedelic subconsciousness but after a rinse of the face with cold water it hits me. Reality really can be stranger than fiction.

I feel the urge to tell someone of my obscure travails the previous evening. I'm certain that if I don't get it off my chest soon I'm going to be a homosexual for life. Not that that's a terrible thing or anything....but I'm a straight man! I meet a French girl called Prescillia and we discuss the warped events over Coffee and Tea; no points for guessing who ordered what. After a lengthy discussion I feel better already, not entirely cleansed of the experience though. I amble around the small town in a reflective bubble. The streets and the faces that occupy them have a sinister taint now, a taint that wasn't apparent yesterday. I know I'm being silly, I shouldn't let the perverted events of the day before skew my idealised perception of Luang probang...but its difficult right now.

Evening rolls around and by chance I meet up with Igor and Maria at the food market, the wonderful Spanish Couple, along with Fabian, the most relaxed of Dane's who is a Trainee Doctor come Blues Guitarist. This guy is extremely interesting. After a number of drinks we head to the Bowling Alley where we meet the Legend that is Vinny the Japanese Drummer and 'Çool Hand' Dirk, the Estonian. They're already playing a game with a tall American guy and the hottest of hot Laos girl. She is absolutely incredible. No taller than 5'3, her body is like no other Laotian female I have seen, more comparable to a South American than a South East Asian. Her face is almost perfectly symmetrical. Vinny tells me she was once 'Miss Luang Probang'...I can see why.

Despite their ensuing match they insist we join. I'm suddenly compelled to ask who exactly it was they sent me home with on the motorbike last night. They explain that he's a local bar owner. 'Why do you ask?'; 'Why do I ask', I retort. And so the sequence of explicit incidents of the previous evening are recalled in intricate detail, not a stone left unturned. Everybody present howls with laughter, it's a pretty funny story after all. Dirk apologises, he knew the guy was gay but didn't imagine I would suffer such an ordeal. The group continue to chuckle but the American and the local girl do so with an added vigor, giggling like naughty children in a school yard. "Ýour getting serious amusement from my misfortunes I see?" They continue to belly laugh until the astounding woman finally composes herself and asks in her sultry, exotic tone,"Ýou didn't by any chance speak to a girl called 'Full Moon Party' last night, did you?"...surely not?

The name comes back to me like a thunderbolt from another planet. This one detail I had accidentally omitted when I recalled it just now, the lady's name I had entirely forgotten, swallowed in the oceans of my mind. From the look on my face everybody present knew this detail was significant. "ÍT WAS FUCKING YOU I SPOKE TO ON THE PHONE LAST NIGHT!"

Everyone's mind is slightly blown. Laughter and surprise supersede one another. Luang Probang is not a small town. It is one of the most affluent, biggest and most developed cities in the country. Of all the girls to be playing bowling with here today, I'm with 'Full Moon Party'. She confirms that it was all an elaborate plan. She never intended to come down on her Motorbike, it was a scheme intended to get her friend his nuts. She was a 'fluffer' so to speak, a means to getting me aroused in the genital area for her friend to then enter and suck a dick...perhaps more. The Yank goes on to reveal a further shameful dynamic. He explains that he was present at the time of the phone call. He's been romantically involved with the Lovely Laotion in the last week or so and at the time of the conversation she had had me on loud speaker with him by her side, or should I say below, performing cunnilingus, on her, I imagine, pert vagina. The joke is most definitely on me here.

Her friends give her a torrent abuse for her grooming tactics, albeit with a wry smile. She is visibly embarrassed. She apologises profusely whilst I insist there is absolutely no need. "Friends help friends get sex, right?" I reaffirm there is no need for apology."You've been a empirical part of one of the best stories of my travels, I wouldn't change a thing." I would of course. In a perfect world she'd have came down on her motorbike and allowed me to sample her Oriental Goods, but as a consolation I guess I have a story to tell. She tells me to meet her tomorrow for pool, 8 o'çlock at Bar Sabai, to make ammends. I envisage a glorious end to this story where I end up banging 'Full Moon Party', but circumstances dictate that I cant make it as I have a bus to catch in the morning. What a queer line of events, quite literally. Luang Probang has served as a fertile platform for entertainment, shock and awe. I wont forget this town in a hurry.

Penniless in Laos

Upon Crossing the border of Thailand into Laos the first thing I realise is that I have lost my bank card. Over here when you withdraw cash from an ATM machine you get your money first and then take your card, unlike England were the process is in reverse. In drunken stupors I've managed to lose three cards. Retard.

I exchange what Thai Baht I have left in my wallet for Loation kip and its the equivalent of twelve pounds. Not much at all. I'll save you the cluster fuck that was arranging a new Travelex cash card but the result is that it will take four days to reach this country and I'll have to pick it up from a city four hundred kilometers away. Oh dear.

Luckily I'm still travelling with my American buddy Tripp who's going to spot me some money. We catch the bus together headed for a town called Luang Nam Tha. The bus ride is amazing, dense jungle surrounds the road and cliffs rise high, jagged like a wino's smile. We ride with a family who are so friendly and accommodating. There is just me, Tripp and the family sharing the vehicle. Laos people appear to have softer faces than the Thai's. A gently spoken teenage boy called Nuk attempts to make conversation with us despite his limited English. Such a nice kid. The families have items to deliver along the way, I've noticed a bucket of Leeches on the back seat that is making me a little uncomfortable. We help them unload the cargo at a variety of stops. This feels like my first authentic backpacking experience.

We finally reach our destination and boy is it an eye opener. We're in the middle of fucking nowhere. The strip where we are dropped off looks like a shanty town, more reminiscent of Africa than Asia. Little shops and stalls litter the wide, dusty roads. I've never felt so detached from Western Culture. Tripp hires a bike and I jump on the back as we explore what lies beyond this admittedly ugly road. Literally two minutes off the beaten track everything changes. We find ourselves in a residential area with houses made out of wood and corrugated iron. Kids run naked whilst teenagers zoom past on motorbikes. The cars look like they've been fashioned out of scrap metal. Half Tractor/half tricycle. Weird. A football match is taking place at the side of the road and I beg Tripp to stop so I can show them a thing or two but he wants to maraud further out. Would have been a different story if they were tossing around an American football.

The land begins to open up and we find our ourselves riding through flat rice fields which our dotted all over the country in between mountainous ridges and Jungle. Farmers tend their land and I wonder if this place has changed at all in a thousand years. Dusk closes in and we stop at a riverside restaurant for a bite to eat. We estimate that this joint is geared toward upwardly mobile locals, shop keepers perhaps, and land owners. Still they are fascinated with two white Westerners stopping for dinner. Before we leave we must have toasted our beers a dozen times. Luang Nam Tha is remote but it's a reasonably large town, I wonder how the natives will react when we head out to the villagers? Autographs and portraits if this is anything to go by.

Penniless and without luxury in Laos but happy.

Pai: Biking and Close Calls

Pai is undoubtedly the best place I have visited in Thailand. Me and six others have rented out a guest house and have hired motorbikes with the intention of exploring this tranquil land.

Those who know me know that I'm not an automobile expert. I am without a Driving License and think Jeremy Clarkson is a huge tit, so this quest to conquer the Motorbike is going to be a challenge. Time to grow a pair of testicles. Okay so I'm not going to be handling a Harley Davidson. My ride is a Yamaha 125. Not exactly an American Bad Ass yet. We head to the mountains in search of natural hot springs and a waterfall that one of the guys earmarked on the map. With ever more confident twists of the accelerator I hit impressive speeds on the highway. The land unfolds either side of me. Rice fields and dense bush fall away like fabric either side of a needle on a sewing machine. Driving out of Pai I begin to understand why people love these machines. With the wind blowing in my face and the tarmac below dropping to the Earth's centre, its not difficult to feel emancipated. The freedom they allow physically lends itself to the spirit. Driving through the wilderness I envisige Hunter Thompson riding with the Hell's Angels and Dennis Hopper adventuring in Easy Rider. It's fair to say I'm feeling pretty cool right now.

We get to the springs to find that fifteen minutes is the recommended duration for any person to stay in at one time. It's so hot. The group jokes that we should have brought vegetables and chicken stock and jumped in, cooking, bathing and feeding at the same time. There is a sign that reads 'No Boil Egg' which also rouses amusement. Out of the invigorating springs and en route to the waterfall 'Tripp' the American leads the way. What a guy. Funny and head strong, one of the best individuals I've met on the road. Suddenly, he swerves out of the way of something on the narrow lane. Riding fifteen yards behind it becomes immediately apparent what it was that he so abruptly dodged as a huge sand coloured Cobra rises onto its hind and stares aggressively looking for the impending threat. Luckily there are some equally amazed local children on the side of the road who divert the snakes attention as I swerve around its body, no more than a foot away from its colossal head. If it would have been facing the other way I would have been in serious trouble, an unbelievable turn of events.

After an excitable pit stop we continue into the mountains. The views are breath taking. Trees seemingly as old of time stand tall in all directions. A mystical silence permeates the mountains occasionally punctured by the sound of crickets and exotic birds. In the distance vast mountainous ridges stand tall like club bouncers protecting the villages they house. We reach the waterfall and the the majority of the group slide down it. Tripp suggests that its pretty lame on the scale of waterfall slides but I'm happy with it. We proceed to head back to the city.


On the way home the air has a sudden, sinister chill as we find ourselves quite literally riding through clouds. The roads are now very testing. Hair pin turns succeed each other whilst cows take naps in the most obscene places. The winding roads are much more difficult to navigate now we're heading down the mountain. As I turn yet another excruciating bend I accelerate fully to blast away when I encounter a van half way over the road. Panicked I veer left without taking my eyes off the reckless vehicle in front of me, stupidly neglecting where I'm heading. When I regain focus I find myself perilously close to the road's edge. I turn sharply to avoid a certain crash when my tyres slip on the paint marked tarmac and the bike folds beneath me like a tree amid deforestation. Me and the vehicle plummet to the ground with my head whacking the floor. Lucky I've got a helmet. We slide along the gravel with my face scraping the rough surface before plummeting into a three/four foot concrete ditch at the side of the road. Luckily again the ridge is filled with bushes which absorb a lot of the impact. As the bike comes to a halt my momentum rolls me over the handle bars which I still have a firm grip of. There's a five second period were I genuinely have idea what I've done to myself. Have I broken a bone? have I torn my skin all over? I put my hands to my face to discover a trickle of blood, not much though. I get up, check my surroundings and find myself in perfect condition bar a scratch on my arm and cut cheek bone. Traveling at forty/fifty kmh its a minor miracle I didn't injure myself severely.

At this point my friend Jess comes from behind and helps me pull the beaten up bike out of the ditch. I dust myself off, put my wing mirror in my bag and drive home. A ridiculously close call. Back at our perfect teak guest house I drink huge gulps of Stolichnaya Vodka from the bottle. Today was a roller coaster. I sampled the delights of the most Bohemian of Thai town's whilst suffering a near death experience. My emotions are an exhausting labyrinth. I return my scooter in a bitter sweet exchange with the garage assistant. Perhaps I'll leave the biking to Richard 'The Hamster' Hammond and the like for now. Until Laos at least.

Of all the destinations I've visited in Thailand Pai is the least geared toward foreign tourists. The locals are friendly and relaxed, and the bars diverse and eclectic. The towns inherent calmness seems to seep into all those who visit here. A motorbike is the best way to see this place because of its rich scenery out of the town centre. Just be careful if your a novice, don't kid yourself that you're Valentino Rossi after a day's riding. You may not end up as lucky as me.

Chiang Mai and the arbitrary

It appears to me that there are three types of traveler. The first type is the Hundred Mile An Hour Traveler, who wants to do everything fast. He/she wants to catch a rope swing onto a hovercraft, ride off a cliff and land slap bang in a tribal village...all in the course of a day. This kind of traveler feels there is no time to 'waste' given the amount of things they want to see and do in their chosen land. The second type of traveler is the drunk traveler. The drunk traveler alludes to being interested in local culture but ultimately wants to drink cheap alcohol and talk to people. He/she is usually good fun and entertaining but might as well be sat on Blackpool promenade in a boozer. And then there is the type of traveler I am. The Ambling Traveler. The traveler who likes to see things at his own pace, getting sozzled along the way.

I've seen and done a lot at the half way point of my trip. I've trekked through the jungle, snorkelled around islands, motorbiked through mountains and rafted down rivers. I've also been stupendously drunk a lot of the time. Arriving in Chiang Mai it appears that this city lends itself to my needs. There is plenty to do and plenty of bars but the town has a slow, downbeat tempo. It kind of reminds me of the outskirts of a large industrial American city, Detroit say, or Seattle. Wide spacious roads allow everyone a little bit of peace and tranquility, unlike Bangkok.

When I arrive in a new town or city I like to pot around for a day or two, watching the locals interact in their home's or workplace. For the Hundred Mile An Hour Traveler this may seem like a 'waste' of time but for me this time is golden. Yesterday I sat and watched Thai's play bowling for twenty minutes or so down the local alley. It was nice to see them in leisure. I watch them meticulously prepare food and fix vehicles with serious en devour. Arbitrary to some maybe, but I find it all pretty amazing. I walk down a street by a river which runs right between the two main roads, its more of a sewer than a river to be honest. The road is lined with prostitutes but I've been advised there's a good English Restaurant down here; they weren't lying. Well worth the harassment from the Lady Boys. I get talking to a guy as you do when your an Ambling Traveler on the road, an English ex-pat who's incredibly from my home town. He's been living out here for twenty five years, but I soon get a feeling of disdain for him. He says he's been 'filling his boots the whole time'; I dont want to imagine what he's been up to. He's in his sixties now and I reckon he's secretly loathed by those around him, including the pretty young Thai girl by his side. He seems to be convincing himself as much as I that he's living the dream, but his is no life for an old man. Pity really.

Not all conversations are a success but they are central to the experience of the Ambling Traveler. Conversations and watching. I call for the bill and a native waiter duly brings it over. Better than the service you usually receive in Thailand. I like to see the look in the eyes of locals, and try to ascertain what they're thinking. It's a nigh on impossible task. Behind the intense stare there is a complex myriad of emotions lying below the surface. Every individual is different of course but generally, what do they think of us? Do they enjoy our fascination with their country? Are they genuinely charmed by us? Maybe they think were idiots with our drinking habits and outlandish behavior? Perhaps they feel were a necessary inconvenience that brings money to their country? I genuinely don't know. They smile when they're amused, they smile when they're annoyed and they smile when they're angry. It's all very tricky but the more I look the more I find out.

Chiang Mai isn't the prettiest place but the people here appear more friendly than other areas in Thailand. It's ideal for a spot of people watching as any distinguished South east Asian Ambling Traveler will tell you. It's a nice middle ground between Thai vacation and back packer experience. Next stop Pai.