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.

The Arse Spray Bum Gun

See this contraption above? This is fucking excellent. It is undoubtedly the finest export from the East never to reach the West. If you were to ask me what my favorite aspect of Thai culture was I would shun the temples, the monks, the fine cuisine and say this device....which functions to clean your arse crack after taking a shit.

It's common knowledge that the drains in this part of the world are dubious. Flushing paper down the toilet is a no no and so, at some point, they've introduced this water pistol as an alternative. It is more effective, more hygienic and way more fun. The first time I used it I must have stayed in the toilet for forty five minutes spraying my elated sphincter. In that first week people would suggest taking a walk down to the beach or a dip in the pool to which I would decline. 'Sorry, but I'm going to be spending most of the day in the bathroom gunning my bum hole.'

With days filled with boozing and precarious food the 'Arse Spray Bum Gun' is just the tonic. Diarrhea has never been so good. How this thing hasn't made it big in the Uk is beyond me. How I have lived so long without it in my life is a mystery. Taking a dump will never be the same again.

Full Moon Party

Large scale events that you have anticipated for some time tend to, in my experience, anti climax. It's like on New Years Eve when your expected to have a good time, it's usually shit. There is nothing worse than forced frivolity however at the Full Moon Party on Kopenghan Island, there was no need to force anything.

The night can only be described as a resounding success. I had heard that the preceding evenings to the big show were in fact better than the Full Moon, but as a spectacle The Full Moon Party blew them out of the water. The beach was lined to the sea edge with pulsating bodies, dancing away under a blanket of far away galaxy's. The night was alive in the truest sense with the air thick and the sea palpitating. Through preference I hung out down the very left end of the beach were the music was more eclectic. I found myself a little Reggae Bar rendering nineties Hip-Hop classics which was favorable, and a Drum and Bass club which at one point was really pounding. Also down this end of the beach you will find Mellow Mountain, home of The Kangaroo Bar were you can purchase a Magic Mushroom Shake for the equivalent of six pound. I vaguely remember turning into an Australian person for a few hours after going there a few nights previous. Well worth a visit.

The Hostel I stayed at on the resort was outstanding. If you ever find yourself in the vicinity get yourself down to the Lazy House. The price per night was more than competitive and included a meal per day and a bucket of booze each evening. Okay, so you may have to share a dorm with twenty six other people but I genuinely wouldn't have done it any other way, regardless of budget. The dorms collective met in the same bar every night (because of the free bucket) providing a perfect platform for meeting people. By the end of the week we were like a small family, such a pleasant experience. And what can I say about the hostel manager, Serena? Absolute star, without doubt the most hospitable guest house worker I have come across, friendly, accommodating and helpful. I'm sure if you mention your a friend of Scouse Jon she'll see you right.

I'll be honest though, I had reservations about the whole thing. I came here curious and intrigued but without particular excitement. I envisaged lots of silly face paint, bad dancing and really rubbish music...and in fairness there was lots of silly face paint, bad dancing and really rubbish music, but that's besides the point. People are happy on Kopenghan, brimming with a contagious enthusiasm that they may be involved in something special, something exciting. People are here to have a good time. You may not have a huge amount in common with the person you find yourself chatting to at the bar but the gaiety of the whole occasion makes that irrelevant. Everybody is in the same boat and friendly in a way that they wouldn't dream of being back home...wherever that may be.

The whole thing just works. The idea of a 'lads holiday' kind of repulses me these days. Crude/offensive/borderline racist jokes and manly posturing isn't for me at all. Now a visit to Kopenghan around Full Moon time may share some qualities of a lads holiday, but it is so much more. The exotic setting and the diversity of the people make the affair that much more credible. In Tenerife or Marmaras your just not going to find yourself playing football with Israelites on the beach or sleeping in a bed next to a Canadian. Okay, so I'm not going to miss the annoying mix-tape that got repeated on the beach every night fifteen times but sometimes you've got to let these things slide in light of the bigger picture. I can be as critical as anyone about anything but with such jouissance in the offing I find it's sometimes better to leave the ego at the door. Full Moon was a riveting, wholly enjoyable experience. Go there and be happy.

An Island in Thailand

Pulling into port at Ban Mae Head I could not be more excited. The vastly green Island of Ko Tao rises triumphantly out of the perfect blue sea as I exchange grimey mainland for paradise. The Sun sits high in the sky like an all encompassing god as an incredible 360 degree rainbow forms around Him. As if his presence needed any more emphasis. Its fucking roasting. Exhausted cabin crew remove the bags of giddy travelers from the ferry to shore and I maraud inland in the incredible heat. The landscape is undoubtedly beautiful. Jagged rocks pierce the ocean like meteors that have fallen from space. Palm trees lining the white beach look as though they've been cherry picked for an episode of Hawaii 5 0. It is astonishingly picturesque. However once away from the coast it becomes apparent that this place may not be as quintessentially idyllic as first thought.

I check into my hostel and decide to roam the Sairee Bay area which at first glance looks like your typical 18-30 holiday resort in Europe, give or take a few exotic birds. An abundance of Seven Eleven's and recently made metallic and concrete shops litter the perfectly paved roads. This specific area is as polished as a Lance Corporal's boots. I head down to my hostel's pool area and if it weren't for the occasional Thai person passing on a motorbike I would have thought I were in Majorca.

The bad shade brigade are out in force, replica Oakley's all around, and their leader, the proud 'Davy Jones', manager/owner of the pool bar, aka Cockney wanker, swans around like the cat who got the cream. Davy is well past it, but still playing the lad. He has obviously jumped on the tourist gravy chain which has engulfed the area in the last ten years and setup shop, probably getting sucked off by a plethora of Lady Boys along the way. The old fool. I listen to another ex-pat with some of the worst tattoos I've ever seen, talk about his 'design for life' with a cringe worthy, cackling American hanging on his every word. He speaks of 'risk and reward', of 'he who dares'... all about his seven years out here basically. Another gargantuan twat. A little later I walk down to a beach bar where I encounter one of the worst singer songwriters conceivable. The baldy idiot has so far played Snow Patrol, David Gray and The Fray... somebody please shoot him, he is an embarrassment to all musicians. However things are soon to improve...

Over the coming days, I manage to explore the less populated, delightful surrounding bays of Shark and Mango. Ninety five percent of the economy is brought in through tourism but its nice to see that some areas remain pristine. I've also met a Russian/Californian girl in my hostel who is really cool, somebody I would most definitely knock about with back home. We've forged a union with other people staying in our dorm and everyone is so friendly and nice; we've been slaughtered for 3 days. I've been reveling in the booze, indulging in buckets that are widely available here, which are essentially as they sound... large buckets of alcohol. There's one cheap brand of vodka aptly named 'Black Cock'. I feel like I've been anally savaged by a Negro gentleman every time I drink it. The mix of people I have encountered is so refreshing. Our group consists of an Australian architect, a Russian fashion student, a film maker (myself), two high school teachers and a bunch of students. Meeting such an assorted blend of individuals is what this is all about, I guess.

Every day men and women head to the beach for some kind of aquatic activity, be it snorkeling, scuba-diving or just a paddle at the sea front, and every night those same people arrive at the beach drinking in the cool ocean breeze under an umbrella of twinkling stars. It is pretty cool. It's undoubtedly fun here, lots to do and boozy. Although I'm considering this my vacation before the real back packing adventure begins. Ko Tao is a holiday in the most conventional sense and an excellent one at that. It's child friendly here and safe but as a back packer destination essentially flawed. Come here and enjoy it for what it is, a beach break, just don't expect to find yourself in 'The Beach' (Danny Boyle's 2000 film of daring tropical adventure), it just isn't like that here anymore, even on Ko Tao, the less built up of the islands. Once you get over your pretentious conceptions, your going to have an excellent time.

Creatures of Disdain

One thing I really don't like about this part of the world are the very many truly frightening organisms. My last night in Bangkok was essentially spoilt when a rat crawled past my foot as I tucked into an Egg Pattai. The little fucker nearly ruined the day. The Mosquito's are also a major concern. Scouse ankles are seemingly an exotic delicacy to these little guys, they haven't left mine alone since I got here. I was waiting for the boat earlier with two Chilean girls when I spotted what I thought was a specialist bird...oh no, wait a minute, that's just a massive, massive, fucking fly. Jesus Christ. Then there was the Moth that looked like a flying loaf of bread...these basards are going to keep me on my toes for sure. I guess it cant all be plain sailing.

Who knows though, maybe I'll learn to love the little critters, perhaps I'll experience some kind of Jeff Goldbloom metamorphisis and fly into the mountains with them, making an ultimate peace. Doubt it like.

Until next time

After a long, hectic day Bangkok trade comes to a close, as does my stay in Thailand's capital. Stalls fold, shutters drop and workers enjoy cold beers on steps. The warm smell of cooked meat pervades the rickety streets and there is an unusual calmness where night meets day.

My stay here has been a good one. The city has oodles of character and being very much a city dweller, I feel comfortable here. Traffics jams, girls bang and things don't always smell entirely healthy, but its all essential to the rich tapestry that is Bangkok. On this last evening the frenetic energy the place usually effuses has died down a little and I reflect upon things with a wry smile.

The guest house I have stayed in Lumphu House, just a stones throw from the main tourist spot Kaosan Road, has been friendly and accommodating. I would recommend anyone passing through to stop here. The street's are crowded with opportunist sellers; of course the locals are out to make a quick buck where they can; but once you acclimatise the place is more manageable than I had anticipated.

I take a boat taxi to the main shopping plaza, rain drizzles and the river laps gently against the banks. At face value the soaked wooden vehicle appears adverse but I'm very much at ease. Strangely I've always found comfort in the cold and wet (within reason), I could ride this boat until tomorrow if I didn't have t leave. Tonight I'll be heading to the tropical southern islands exchanging the thick blanket of dust and smoke for clear oceanic air. I imagine at least a part of me will miss the eye level smog.

However In two weeks time I will be heading back to this largely undeveloped residence. That shall be a good day.

Travelling Alone

The reaction I got when telling friends and acquaitances that I was going travelling by myself around Asia was, by the most part, largely negative. Some thought I was crazy, I got the impression some thought it was a bit wierd...others, I detected, thought I was embarking on a life as a sex tourist, indulging in Eleven year old boys around the Orient. I would like to suggest that none of the above is true.

Sole travelling, I am discovering, has its up sides and down, like everything in life. I have already seen the benefits of the freedom it allows. I have stayed an extra night in Bangkok than I had originally planned because I wanted to; no consulting with anyone, no other opinion on the matter. I also get to decide where I go next, and I can change that plan at the drop of a hat, should I wish to. In that sense I feel truly emancipated.

Travelling alone makes you plunge deep into thought which can be a good and bad thing. Great in that I have become super observant and analytical of all that I see, and there is plentiful time for peaceful reflection which is fantastic for my writing. However it's bad in the sense that you can easily begin overthinking things. 'Did I make a show of myself last night? Am I managing my money okay? Is the cleaner really plotting to kidnap me and feed me to her children in a non traditional Thai dish?' It would be nice at times to have someone close at hand for a second opinion in order to stave off narcicistic thoughts.

However I am quite comfortable on the periphery. I have very much enjoyed meeting new people here, illuminating and being illuminated, for an hour or two say, but when it comes to long periods of time I would much rather be alone than with someone who I dont deem atleast an eight out of ten in the personality stakes. I have no great desire to paint my face, buy an 'I love Kaosan Road' T-shirt and become part of the young, touring conglomerate. No thanks. However If I was to meet some people who I thouroughly identified with, and with whom I got on with exceptionally well, then ofcourse it would be nice to stay in their company for a prolonged period and perhaps even become life long friends.

Although travelling alone isnt all about meeting new people, especially if your doing it for the first time. I would say it's more about meeting yourself. For the first time in my life I will be experiencing a prolonged departure from my native city, Liverpool. In taking this step there will be no cultural crutch to lean on, no people, things or places reminding me of how I ought to act or behave. Right here is a blank canvas crying out to be painted. I see this trip not as an opportunity to invent or fabricate a new personality but as a chance to foster the charachter traits within that I am most fond of, traits that I want to move forward with in my life, and thus not becoming somebody new but to become a better version of who I am. Seminal, hippy shit right there I hear you say...but that's how I feel about this whole thing! I'll let you know how I get on with it.