Guangzhou is not famous as a holiday destination. It's definitely one giant workplace. And that's why I liked it. Nobody trying to rip me off. No crowds. No endless acres of souvenir shops.
Although they still stared. Man I had forgotten how much Chinese people stare...
My hostel was in 芳村, Fangcun, which is a nice district across the river from the main city. I say nice because it has a pleasant walk along the river as well as some surprisingly chic brick buildings. There was even a church that I made the effort to go and inspect. I pottered through a market and down some alleys. Dropped into to McDonalds for a pineapple pie.
Then I got lost.
Cue endless wanderings through streets before I worked out where I was. I had, somehow, ended up going in completely the opposite direction to where I thought I was going. So I slogged back in the drizzle. At this point the Chinese, sensing my weary mood, decided to kick in with their hello!hello!hello routine. This annoyed me.
But just as China is capable of putting me in the foulest mood it invariably lifts me back up again as I stumbled upon 沙面岛, Shamian Island. For decades this tiny blob of land was the only place in the whole of China where us white devils were allowed to live. Most of it was built by the British but the French did one end, hence a Catholic church, and as a consequence it is a tiny slice of Bloomsbury hiding amongst the skyscrapers and four lane roads of Guangzhou. Cobbled streets, leafy avenues and pretty Georgian style buildings. Heaven. It even had a Starbucks...
There were also quite a few statues around showing everyday scenes from colonial times. My favourite was one of three Chinese women. The first was short and dressed in traditional Chinese clothes (wide trousers and shirt), the second taller and in a stylish qipao (designed around the beginning of the 20th century as a modern fusion of East and West) and the third the tallest of all wearing shorts and chatting on a mobile phone. I loved the contrast and that if they had ever met, these women would have had nothing in common. The first would have been cultured and refined although repressed, the second glamorous and well versed in revolutionary thought, and the third, well, the third would be like most young Chinese women I see that specialise in cultivating a studied air of dimness. Not for her calligraphy and tea ceremonies, or Marx and French red wine, no she wants an iPad and Prada.
There were quite a few army soldiers running around the island. Must be a nice place to train I suppose.
A ferry went from the island to just opposite my hostel. I enjoyed this 2 minute trip far too much but now I can say that I've sailed on the Pearl River, just like my ancestors an age ago.
Speaking of ancestors I paid a visit to Guangzhou's art Museum which housed bits and bobs left behind from colonial trading. It was a fascinating exhibition containing some really quite spectacular works of art. There were delicate silks, watercolours of colonial warehouses, blue ceramics and the most exquisitely carved ivory I have ever seen. There was a whole tusk covered in trees and figures and rickshaws and roads in stunning detail. There was a dragon boat, again breathtakingly finely carved as well as some scenes of Chinese deities and some ivory "balls" that consisted of shells and shells of ivory, one inside the other. Another favourite of mine was a black and gold lacquer desk.
There was also a replica of a "Chinese room" that was in vogue in European houses at the time. This would be a room set aside for Chinese "stuff", as the translation helpfully explained... Opposite the room was a huge picture of a river and Tudor style house that I think was supposed to be the view out of the window...
There was a picture of a European ship called 哥德堡, Gedebao, that visited Guangzhou three times, although it sank in the mouth of its home port on the third return. I spent a long time trying to guess the English version of the name, with only the clue that it was in Europe to help me. It's named after Gothenburg, in Sweden, apparently.
Another fun transliteration I spent a while puzzling over was 鸦片, yapian. Specifically the Yapian War. Or literally- duck slice war. Which confused me. Of course, it means opium dur...
I also visited the Revolutionary Museum which was also fascinating. Guangzhou has had quite a few revolutions over the years, from fighting westerners to Japanese to Nationalists. It was in a park dedicated to the various martyrs and had some statues of the notable ones. Some of them died very young.
The park also had the obligatory groups of middle aged women doing fan dances as well as an Erhu quartet having a great time in one corner. I sat and watched a group of men and women doing a sort of tai chi routine with swords. Except not all of them have swords so some used umbrellas instead.
At night the light pollution is so bad it is almost as light as day. Not that that is hard as in the day the smog blocks out quite a lot of the light...
One last bit about Guangzhou- as well as westerners in the 18th century, Persians lived in the city over a thousand years before. And now the Ram City, as it is known (legend says that 5 mythical rams brought rice when there was a famine once), is home to over a hundred thousand Africans. They come to trade and I did see far more of them than any other foreign ethnicity.
So in summary, Guangzhou turned out to be very enjoyable and a fascinating place to visit.
2011-02-18
Back to China
Bangkok airport sell international newspapers. Imagine that, non governmental controlled, english newspapers... I snapped up the Guardian and curled up in Starbucks with a cup of tea to enjoy my free press. I've still got it with me and I'm going to give it to me English students so they can practise. Although I'm not actually sure if foreigners giving out newspapers is illegal or not. I wouldn't be surprised...
That afternoon I spent on a boat going up and down the Chao Praya river. I saw Bangkok's most famous hotels, The Oriental and The Peninsula. If I'm being honest neither looked particularly impressive whereas The Hilton and The Shangri-la definitely looked suitably glitzy. I also saw the odd temple and colonial era warehouses.
The next day I again caught a boat and hopped off at the Grand Palace. I didn't go inside (had very little baht left and I was far too miserly to get anymore out) but it looked very shiny. Places like that always amuse me because they were built to show the glory and power of what they considered to be the world's greatest king. But, and I mean no offence, the King of Siam just isn't...
I, instead, went and planted myself in a small, and free, park not far away. It was a rather touching memorial to a queen and princess who died in a boat accident a hundred or so years ago. I sat down near a pavilion to write this blog and people watch. There was the odd jogger, including an elderly gentlemen who was moving at a rather glacial path but, to his credit, managed several laps. Nearby some young men were lifting weights. There were also some interesting critters about, namely a surprisingly large lizard sneaking around as well as the ghostly shadow in the stream which hinted at a rather large fish lurking int he depths. It seemed a lot bigger than all the other fishes...
Then a journey to the airport, a flight delay-sorry "rescheduling", a short flight where my next door neighbour kept bashing me with his elbows and then looked confused when I elbowed back, before I was back in China.
After a bus and taxi ride involving the first Chinese taxi driver I've ever met who actually seems to know the city and not need me to direct, I arrived at my hostel.
On the bus I wondered why the Chinese announcer kept saying everything twice, but sounding like he had hiccoughs the second time.
Yep, I had arrived in Guangzhou, also known as Canton...
That afternoon I spent on a boat going up and down the Chao Praya river. I saw Bangkok's most famous hotels, The Oriental and The Peninsula. If I'm being honest neither looked particularly impressive whereas The Hilton and The Shangri-la definitely looked suitably glitzy. I also saw the odd temple and colonial era warehouses.
The next day I again caught a boat and hopped off at the Grand Palace. I didn't go inside (had very little baht left and I was far too miserly to get anymore out) but it looked very shiny. Places like that always amuse me because they were built to show the glory and power of what they considered to be the world's greatest king. But, and I mean no offence, the King of Siam just isn't...
I, instead, went and planted myself in a small, and free, park not far away. It was a rather touching memorial to a queen and princess who died in a boat accident a hundred or so years ago. I sat down near a pavilion to write this blog and people watch. There was the odd jogger, including an elderly gentlemen who was moving at a rather glacial path but, to his credit, managed several laps. Nearby some young men were lifting weights. There were also some interesting critters about, namely a surprisingly large lizard sneaking around as well as the ghostly shadow in the stream which hinted at a rather large fish lurking int he depths. It seemed a lot bigger than all the other fishes...
Then a journey to the airport, a flight delay-sorry "rescheduling", a short flight where my next door neighbour kept bashing me with his elbows and then looked confused when I elbowed back, before I was back in China.
After a bus and taxi ride involving the first Chinese taxi driver I've ever met who actually seems to know the city and not need me to direct, I arrived at my hostel.
On the bus I wondered why the Chinese announcer kept saying everything twice, but sounding like he had hiccoughs the second time.
Yep, I had arrived in Guangzhou, also known as Canton...
2011-02-16
Moaning and Moping
Bangkok is partly famous for its trade in the mercenary side of love, both covert and overt. The former is evident in the sheer number of hugely overweight, bald, sweating white men who have somehow convinced themselves that their Thai wife/partner loves them for their inner beauty. These are the sort who moan that western women are not as "well mannered" or "caring" as the "ladylike" Thai. What they mean is that the Thai will provide unquestioning worship and pander to their own belief in their lack of faults, in particular their refusal to bother to take care of themselves or help out around the house. Which is why their "unreasonable" western wives have left them. And the Thai is there for one reason and one reason only.
Which brings us to sex tourism. It accounts for 10% of Bangkok's revenue from oversees visitors. Again mostly from despicable types similar to that described above although a lot of the "pussy with such-and-such" shows are frequented by gorillaesque youths. Who think it's just a bit of fun.
Wake-up call: none of the girls, or boys, are there because they want to be. A lot will have been conned into it eg Laos women who come to Bangkok with promises of work in restaurants. And the ones smiling and beckoning you in to join the fun and looking like they're enjoying it? They're faking it. All of it.
When Sara and I arrived we headed to Khao San road which is Bangkok's backpacker district. After renting a very cheap room for the night (£4 for a double. It was very grungy though...) we headed out to explore. The main road was heaving with stalls selling everything an enthusiastic backpacker could possibly want, from T-shirts emblazoned with marijuana plants to ethnic skirts. Either side were restaurants, or glorified feeding troughs, and the rather tragic sight of rows of open air chairs filled with tourists enjoying the "treat" of a cheap foot massage given by sad men and women too old and ugly to work anywhere better.
Sara and I hid from the hordes of sunburnt, maxiskirt wearing chavs in mcdonalds which, like most Asian branches, was surprisingly free of westerners and was instead peopled with Thai youths with funky haircuts and biker jackets.
I am very scathing of western tourists out here. Perhaps unfairly and even hypocritically so. I think it is because I am acutely aware that I am tarred with their brush. But the fact is that the average Thai in Bangkok is smartly dressed, slim, sober and, above all, normal. The average westerner is inappropriately dressed, unable to use suncream, embarrassingly overweight, about to get/already/ recently very drunk and ignorant. I don't want to be seen like that.
The next day Sara and I moved to a hostel in Silom district. I'd booked this hostel ages ago without really knowing anything about the city but luckily got a good location near a Skytrain station. It was, however, 3 times the price of the previous night's hole and while nice, not 3 times nice...
Sara and I spent our last day wandering around the Chinatown part (copious amounts of gold shops) which ended up with us getting very hot and bothered so we retreated to a park to cool down a bit. Bangkok is both hot and humid so it's difficult to walk too much. Then off to hide in some air conditioned mall. I tucked into some chicken and chips in the food court- making the most of cheap western food while I could lol.
In the evening Sara and I had our Treat. Originally we had planned to have a meal at whatever Bangkok's most prestigious restaurant was but it soon became apparent that we'd never get in as our smartest clothes consisted of jeans and flip-flops. So we had a manicure and pedicure instead. I say pedicure, it was more like a trip to the farrier's... My poor feet have racked up quite a mileage over the years and this coupled with continually being trampled by Exmoor ponies has left them a little... rough... However, the pedicurist set about with rasp and clippers and remarkably I emerged with perfectly respectable paws. Although it took a while for the poor woman to get my blue glitter nail varnish off from China:p I opted for tasteful pale pink and Sara for red.
For dinner we headed into Silom and ate at a bar with a live band and some premiership football on telly to keep us entertained. Then we explored Patpong market which is the main area of sleaze in Bangkok. And indeed there were lots of scantily clad youths beckoning us into go-go bars or offering us menus of sex shows. We didn't fancy watching some sad girl being inventive with a pingpong ball or paying the huge entrance fees for a gogo bar so we settled in one of the nicer bars and had a drink and got talking to a Dutch Jew selling clothes to China. Apparently the English are the worst to do business with...
Early next day, Sara left for Valencia. Originally I wasn't going to go to the airport with her but I changed my mind 60seconds after she'd left and pulled on some jeans and ran after her to go with her. It's difficult, being a single twin.
Which brings us to sex tourism. It accounts for 10% of Bangkok's revenue from oversees visitors. Again mostly from despicable types similar to that described above although a lot of the "pussy with such-and-such" shows are frequented by gorillaesque youths. Who think it's just a bit of fun.
Wake-up call: none of the girls, or boys, are there because they want to be. A lot will have been conned into it eg Laos women who come to Bangkok with promises of work in restaurants. And the ones smiling and beckoning you in to join the fun and looking like they're enjoying it? They're faking it. All of it.
When Sara and I arrived we headed to Khao San road which is Bangkok's backpacker district. After renting a very cheap room for the night (£4 for a double. It was very grungy though...) we headed out to explore. The main road was heaving with stalls selling everything an enthusiastic backpacker could possibly want, from T-shirts emblazoned with marijuana plants to ethnic skirts. Either side were restaurants, or glorified feeding troughs, and the rather tragic sight of rows of open air chairs filled with tourists enjoying the "treat" of a cheap foot massage given by sad men and women too old and ugly to work anywhere better.
Sara and I hid from the hordes of sunburnt, maxiskirt wearing chavs in mcdonalds which, like most Asian branches, was surprisingly free of westerners and was instead peopled with Thai youths with funky haircuts and biker jackets.
I am very scathing of western tourists out here. Perhaps unfairly and even hypocritically so. I think it is because I am acutely aware that I am tarred with their brush. But the fact is that the average Thai in Bangkok is smartly dressed, slim, sober and, above all, normal. The average westerner is inappropriately dressed, unable to use suncream, embarrassingly overweight, about to get/already/ recently very drunk and ignorant. I don't want to be seen like that.
The next day Sara and I moved to a hostel in Silom district. I'd booked this hostel ages ago without really knowing anything about the city but luckily got a good location near a Skytrain station. It was, however, 3 times the price of the previous night's hole and while nice, not 3 times nice...
Sara and I spent our last day wandering around the Chinatown part (copious amounts of gold shops) which ended up with us getting very hot and bothered so we retreated to a park to cool down a bit. Bangkok is both hot and humid so it's difficult to walk too much. Then off to hide in some air conditioned mall. I tucked into some chicken and chips in the food court- making the most of cheap western food while I could lol.
In the evening Sara and I had our Treat. Originally we had planned to have a meal at whatever Bangkok's most prestigious restaurant was but it soon became apparent that we'd never get in as our smartest clothes consisted of jeans and flip-flops. So we had a manicure and pedicure instead. I say pedicure, it was more like a trip to the farrier's... My poor feet have racked up quite a mileage over the years and this coupled with continually being trampled by Exmoor ponies has left them a little... rough... However, the pedicurist set about with rasp and clippers and remarkably I emerged with perfectly respectable paws. Although it took a while for the poor woman to get my blue glitter nail varnish off from China:p I opted for tasteful pale pink and Sara for red.
For dinner we headed into Silom and ate at a bar with a live band and some premiership football on telly to keep us entertained. Then we explored Patpong market which is the main area of sleaze in Bangkok. And indeed there were lots of scantily clad youths beckoning us into go-go bars or offering us menus of sex shows. We didn't fancy watching some sad girl being inventive with a pingpong ball or paying the huge entrance fees for a gogo bar so we settled in one of the nicer bars and had a drink and got talking to a Dutch Jew selling clothes to China. Apparently the English are the worst to do business with...
Early next day, Sara left for Valencia. Originally I wasn't going to go to the airport with her but I changed my mind 60seconds after she'd left and pulled on some jeans and ran after her to go with her. It's difficult, being a single twin.
On A Train
The 11th February was spent almost completely on a train from Chiang Mai to Bangkok. This was mostly not very exciting, although not too boring as one did see interesting things out of the window. The train itself was a bit old and knackered but this just added to the quaint oldfashionedness which must be a relic from British times. The stations were all heavily manicured and the guards all wore fastidiously ironed uniforms along with hats and white gloves. Thai food (FIRE IN THE HOLD) and refreshments were served sporadically and free of charge which were a godsend as the cheese I had splashed out on turned out to be indescribably vile. My kingdom for some red leicester...
At first we journeyed through leafy mountains along tracks that clung to the sides of cliffs, leaving a spectacular, if not exactly comforting, drop on one side. Eventually these disappeared, leaving endless fields of rice bounding towards the horizon. Every now and then we'd pass a small town which gave us a split second shot of the inhabitants' lives. I read the Bangkok Post, one of Thailand's English newspapers, to pass the time. News concerning the Thai were the clashes with Cambodia over a temple (as if either side hadn't got enough already) and the devaluation of the Vietnamese dong. There were also hints throughout the paper of a growing fear of China's growing influence... Either way, it was fascinating to read about South-East Asia from their perspective.
After 12 hours we finally arrived in Bangkok. Ah, Bangkok, how so Asian you are... Towering skyscrapers, Buddhist temples, colonial trading houses, futuristic sky trains, rusty buses, garish lights, stationary traffic, lots of money and none at all, Gucci, Versace, princes, paupers, exploitation, sexploitation, violent politics, the chance to make it, someday somehow, all piled up in one hot, chaotic, deliciously exotic mess.
Oh, Asia, you do make a tempting offer...
At first we journeyed through leafy mountains along tracks that clung to the sides of cliffs, leaving a spectacular, if not exactly comforting, drop on one side. Eventually these disappeared, leaving endless fields of rice bounding towards the horizon. Every now and then we'd pass a small town which gave us a split second shot of the inhabitants' lives. I read the Bangkok Post, one of Thailand's English newspapers, to pass the time. News concerning the Thai were the clashes with Cambodia over a temple (as if either side hadn't got enough already) and the devaluation of the Vietnamese dong. There were also hints throughout the paper of a growing fear of China's growing influence... Either way, it was fascinating to read about South-East Asia from their perspective.
After 12 hours we finally arrived in Bangkok. Ah, Bangkok, how so Asian you are... Towering skyscrapers, Buddhist temples, colonial trading houses, futuristic sky trains, rusty buses, garish lights, stationary traffic, lots of money and none at all, Gucci, Versace, princes, paupers, exploitation, sexploitation, violent politics, the chance to make it, someday somehow, all piled up in one hot, chaotic, deliciously exotic mess.
Oh, Asia, you do make a tempting offer...
2011-02-15
Elephants!
Elephants are quite big you know. In particular, their heads, which are fridge sized. This is emphasised by their tiny eyes that don't just watch you, but judge you as well...
And trunks take some getting used to. You adopt a safe position a few metres away from the elephant but then this thing stretches out towards your face making a loud sucking sound as it breathes in your scent. Slightly freaky.
Sara and I booked into a "learn how to be a mahout" course (code for normal elephant ride but in a stupid uniform) at Baanchang elephant park. Chang is Thai for elephant and sounds like Xiang, which is is the Chinese. Baan means home.
We were picked up by a stressed Thai man in a minibus filled with our fellow wannabe mahouts and whizzed around Chiang Mai picking up and dropping off other people before driving out to the hills. We arrived at the park which consisted of some buildings, a lake and elephants. After changing into their unflattering uniform, we were given the talk about the park's mission, which is to rescue mistreated elephants, of which Thailand has many. A popular use of elephants is elephant begging, where someone wanders around a city with his elephant getting money off tourists. The elephant is stressed out by city noise and hot Tarmac hurts their feet. Often they are not fed well either. Elephants are also used in logging which does not provide the nicest life, manual labour never does, but I didn't share my hosts' disapproval. Less damage is caused to a forest if elephants haul logs and not trucks. And as elephants live as long as we do, ex loggers cause a problem. The use of elephants in logging was outlawed in Thailand and the 3000 elephants made redundant are the ones that can now be seen on the streets of Bangkok or in horrific zoos and circuses.
The park also disapproved of making elephants paint pictures as well as the normal circus tricks of standing on one leg, playing football etc. I don't see that elephant paintings are so bad but the park owner said it was unnatural.
Then we got to feed the elephants. This involved grabbing some sugar cane and either giving it to a questing trunk or slotting it in their mouths. Their mouths are quite big. And if you try to get some sugar cane back from a trunk's grip, well, you won't win. It's rather fascinating, having a glorified vacuum nozzle waving at you before curling delicately around some cane which promptly disappears into its gaping maw.
There were around 15 elephants including 2 baby ones. One we were warned to be careful about approaching as she was half blind and 18 months pregnant (her bump was HUGE- elephants are pregnant for 22 months) so was prone to grumpiness. Another was a recent acquisition from a street somewhere and stood in the corner quietly. Too quietly.
Then learning to ride.
Step 1. In order to mount elephant, make it lie down by shouting "nolong" (lie down in the local lingo) very loudly.
Step 2. Keep shouting.
Step 3. After lots or shuffling the elephant will finally sink to the ground. Step on its knee and jump up onto its back and hang onto the ears as it stands up again.
Step 4. Hotch forward so you're sitting on its neck, hands resting on its head.
Step 5. Move forwards by shouting "pai" and kneeing it in the back of its ears.
Step 6. To turn right, knee it in the left ear and shout "Kwai". Keep kneeing until enough turn has been turned.
Step 7. To turn left, knee on right ear.
Step 8. To stop shout "how" and grip with knees.
Step 9. To dismount, shout "nolong" and then scramble off when it has sunk sufficiently...
The elephant may or may not do what you say...
Elephants are actually quite hairy and their skin is leathery but warm. This makes bare legs itch though.
Of course whether the elephant did what we wanted was fairly moot as wherever we went the mahout walked beside, hanging onto the ear. They were the ones actually giving directions. I fell a little bit in love with one mahout who not only was very pretty but liked to lounge on the back of his elephant with a rock and roll air of insouciance.
After lunch ("more rice? Louise: oo yes please. French woman: no zank you...), which I spent admiring Hot Mahout's pool skills, we set off for a ride into the forest. Sara and I shared an elephant. I forget its name but it was the park's only boy elephant. They grow tusks and cows don't so their owners are reluctant to sell them when they can get much more money from ivory. On the way up Sara "steered" and I sat on the back taking photos. One of our group rode the baby elephant which came too. One guy gave his elephant some cane that it reached up with its trunk to pluck from his hand. When we reached the top we got off and the elephants wandered around grazing and scratching. Every now and then you'd see a tree shaking furiously as it got elephant butt itched against it. Many of the trees had bare trunks where the elephants had eaten the bark. Some were just stumps in the ground. The baby elephant ran around trumpeting and being naughty, with its mahout trailing after trying to keep an eye on it. Hot Mahout sat on his elephant and played with his phone. Then back up, with me in front, for the descent. This was slightly tricky as it was quite steep and elephants' backs are rather slippery... and it's a long way to fall! Plus, to slow themselves down, they knock into trees on the way down, like we grab with our hands, so Sara kept nearly getting scraped.
Then bath time! First the elephants went in with their mahouts. Us trainees stayed back because the first thing elephants do on entering water is drink, the second is to poop so some unlucky soul has to fish this out before we got in. The water was surprisingly cold and the lake floor disturbingly squidgy but Sara and I got on with the job of scrubbing our elephant, who blew water around happily. The baby rushed around spraying everyone with water. Much fun had, as with all toddlers.
So that was our elephant experience. It was fun but I have to admit, I prefer ponies... Elephants take a rather long time to do anything and whereas Grandpa will let me put a pony on his farm, I'm not sure he'd welcome a pachyderm...
And trunks take some getting used to. You adopt a safe position a few metres away from the elephant but then this thing stretches out towards your face making a loud sucking sound as it breathes in your scent. Slightly freaky.
Sara and I booked into a "learn how to be a mahout" course (code for normal elephant ride but in a stupid uniform) at Baanchang elephant park. Chang is Thai for elephant and sounds like Xiang, which is is the Chinese. Baan means home.
We were picked up by a stressed Thai man in a minibus filled with our fellow wannabe mahouts and whizzed around Chiang Mai picking up and dropping off other people before driving out to the hills. We arrived at the park which consisted of some buildings, a lake and elephants. After changing into their unflattering uniform, we were given the talk about the park's mission, which is to rescue mistreated elephants, of which Thailand has many. A popular use of elephants is elephant begging, where someone wanders around a city with his elephant getting money off tourists. The elephant is stressed out by city noise and hot Tarmac hurts their feet. Often they are not fed well either. Elephants are also used in logging which does not provide the nicest life, manual labour never does, but I didn't share my hosts' disapproval. Less damage is caused to a forest if elephants haul logs and not trucks. And as elephants live as long as we do, ex loggers cause a problem. The use of elephants in logging was outlawed in Thailand and the 3000 elephants made redundant are the ones that can now be seen on the streets of Bangkok or in horrific zoos and circuses.
The park also disapproved of making elephants paint pictures as well as the normal circus tricks of standing on one leg, playing football etc. I don't see that elephant paintings are so bad but the park owner said it was unnatural.
Then we got to feed the elephants. This involved grabbing some sugar cane and either giving it to a questing trunk or slotting it in their mouths. Their mouths are quite big. And if you try to get some sugar cane back from a trunk's grip, well, you won't win. It's rather fascinating, having a glorified vacuum nozzle waving at you before curling delicately around some cane which promptly disappears into its gaping maw.
There were around 15 elephants including 2 baby ones. One we were warned to be careful about approaching as she was half blind and 18 months pregnant (her bump was HUGE- elephants are pregnant for 22 months) so was prone to grumpiness. Another was a recent acquisition from a street somewhere and stood in the corner quietly. Too quietly.
Then learning to ride.
Step 1. In order to mount elephant, make it lie down by shouting "nolong" (lie down in the local lingo) very loudly.
Step 2. Keep shouting.
Step 3. After lots or shuffling the elephant will finally sink to the ground. Step on its knee and jump up onto its back and hang onto the ears as it stands up again.
Step 4. Hotch forward so you're sitting on its neck, hands resting on its head.
Step 5. Move forwards by shouting "pai" and kneeing it in the back of its ears.
Step 6. To turn right, knee it in the left ear and shout "Kwai". Keep kneeing until enough turn has been turned.
Step 7. To turn left, knee on right ear.
Step 8. To stop shout "how" and grip with knees.
Step 9. To dismount, shout "nolong" and then scramble off when it has sunk sufficiently...
The elephant may or may not do what you say...
Elephants are actually quite hairy and their skin is leathery but warm. This makes bare legs itch though.
Of course whether the elephant did what we wanted was fairly moot as wherever we went the mahout walked beside, hanging onto the ear. They were the ones actually giving directions. I fell a little bit in love with one mahout who not only was very pretty but liked to lounge on the back of his elephant with a rock and roll air of insouciance.
After lunch ("more rice? Louise: oo yes please. French woman: no zank you...), which I spent admiring Hot Mahout's pool skills, we set off for a ride into the forest. Sara and I shared an elephant. I forget its name but it was the park's only boy elephant. They grow tusks and cows don't so their owners are reluctant to sell them when they can get much more money from ivory. On the way up Sara "steered" and I sat on the back taking photos. One of our group rode the baby elephant which came too. One guy gave his elephant some cane that it reached up with its trunk to pluck from his hand. When we reached the top we got off and the elephants wandered around grazing and scratching. Every now and then you'd see a tree shaking furiously as it got elephant butt itched against it. Many of the trees had bare trunks where the elephants had eaten the bark. Some were just stumps in the ground. The baby elephant ran around trumpeting and being naughty, with its mahout trailing after trying to keep an eye on it. Hot Mahout sat on his elephant and played with his phone. Then back up, with me in front, for the descent. This was slightly tricky as it was quite steep and elephants' backs are rather slippery... and it's a long way to fall! Plus, to slow themselves down, they knock into trees on the way down, like we grab with our hands, so Sara kept nearly getting scraped.
Then bath time! First the elephants went in with their mahouts. Us trainees stayed back because the first thing elephants do on entering water is drink, the second is to poop so some unlucky soul has to fish this out before we got in. The water was surprisingly cold and the lake floor disturbingly squidgy but Sara and I got on with the job of scrubbing our elephant, who blew water around happily. The baby rushed around spraying everyone with water. Much fun had, as with all toddlers.
So that was our elephant experience. It was fun but I have to admit, I prefer ponies... Elephants take a rather long time to do anything and whereas Grandpa will let me put a pony on his farm, I'm not sure he'd welcome a pachyderm...
OMG SHUT UP BIRDBRAIN
Thailand is civilised. It has steak and Guiness pie and non fake alcohol. I ate too much of the pie, though, and felt a wee but funny for a while...
Sara admitted that China changes you in that you become pathetically grateful for a meal with no rice and also for the practice of basic public hygiene.
We headed down to Chiang Mai, the largest city in the north. Thai buses are similar to ones I've seen in old sitcoms, namely Porridge, so I suspect their early career may have been abroad. And some time ago. Still, they get you from a to b and have a rather cute character.
Chiang Mai is quite popular with expats and lo, there were starbucks and things. There is an old town with old walls that we didn't visit because a) it only really had temples and b) we had better things to do.
Thai temples are different from Chinese ones in that they are narrow and have wormy dragon things as roof decorations. And they are genuinely old not rebuilt in 1999. And the monks hanging around are real. Here ends my interest in temples.
Our point of orbit was near the river where the night bazaar is. And the English pub. Annoyingly our hostel was over 20minutes walk away which, with a belly full (and I mean full. The waiter would tut and make you eat up if you left anything) is rather hard. So we got tuktuks instead. I love tuktuks. They're like angry wasps buzzing in and out of traffic in a blaze of noise and exhaust fumes. Rather exciting whizzing along wondering if we can finish overtaking before the oncoming truck occupies the same bit of road as us.
Our hostel was in a lovely, quiet, peaceful area. Sara, as light a sleeper as Becka "hasn't had a night's sleep in 3 months", was looking forward to slumber.
However.
Starting at about 4am (I thought they were supposed to start at dawn!) the neighbouring cockerels slug it out in a battle of cockadoodledoos. Each salvo launched about 30 seconds apart. And lung burstingly loud. And difficult to sleep through...
The Thai tradition of removing shoes before entering a house is annoying when you wear
Converse, which take 5 minutes to tug off. Each.
Sara admitted that China changes you in that you become pathetically grateful for a meal with no rice and also for the practice of basic public hygiene.
We headed down to Chiang Mai, the largest city in the north. Thai buses are similar to ones I've seen in old sitcoms, namely Porridge, so I suspect their early career may have been abroad. And some time ago. Still, they get you from a to b and have a rather cute character.
Chiang Mai is quite popular with expats and lo, there were starbucks and things. There is an old town with old walls that we didn't visit because a) it only really had temples and b) we had better things to do.
Thai temples are different from Chinese ones in that they are narrow and have wormy dragon things as roof decorations. And they are genuinely old not rebuilt in 1999. And the monks hanging around are real. Here ends my interest in temples.
Our point of orbit was near the river where the night bazaar is. And the English pub. Annoyingly our hostel was over 20minutes walk away which, with a belly full (and I mean full. The waiter would tut and make you eat up if you left anything) is rather hard. So we got tuktuks instead. I love tuktuks. They're like angry wasps buzzing in and out of traffic in a blaze of noise and exhaust fumes. Rather exciting whizzing along wondering if we can finish overtaking before the oncoming truck occupies the same bit of road as us.
Our hostel was in a lovely, quiet, peaceful area. Sara, as light a sleeper as Becka "hasn't had a night's sleep in 3 months", was looking forward to slumber.
However.
Starting at about 4am (I thought they were supposed to start at dawn!) the neighbouring cockerels slug it out in a battle of cockadoodledoos. Each salvo launched about 30 seconds apart. And lung burstingly loud. And difficult to sleep through...
The Thai tradition of removing shoes before entering a house is annoying when you wear
Converse, which take 5 minutes to tug off. Each.
We Used To Own This Bit
Thailand, in contrast to Laos, is pretty developed and modernised. Tescos has arrived. The fields are not higgledly-piggledly rice terraces with a peasant here and there bent double. Rather they are broad fields crisscrossed with machine tracks that account for the scarcity of water buffalo and, indeed, the bent peasant. It was actually quite surprising how much you noticed the lack of people around, after all British fields are normally pretty empty. However I think I have got used to the sight of terraces dotted with human backs.
First Sara and I headed to Chiang Rai, a small town in the north of Thailand. We didn't do much here, except sleep, although I got very excited to find a 7/11 that contained food I recognised. Tuna sandwiches! We did have dinner at one place, though, which was rather eery. There was noone apart from us and the general gloom of the room and the slightly detached air of the proprietress lent a rather foreboding air, like somewhere out back was a Greek bed that guests had to fit in or adjustments would be made... In contrast, the guesthouse where we stayed had staff falling over themselves to help us, all with the famed Thai Grin.
The next day we headed up to Mae Sai. Mae Sai has a Tesco Lotus superstore, a market filled with junk, and a crossing point with Myanmar which is why Sara and I had rocked up. After shedding our bags we skipped up to the checkpoint, paid 500 baht each for a visa, (annoyingly the price in dollars was cheaper but we had exchanged all our dollars for baht...) and arrived in the Union of Myanmar, erstwhile British colony of Burma.
Tachileik, the Burmese border town, was slightly disappointingly normal. The market was stuffed with souvenirs and fake designer bags (including some rather nice Paul Smith ones). Prices were all in baht and I have a suspicion we couldn't have got hold of whatever the Burmese currency is even if we wanted to. I bought a pack of cards that was based on the Americans' wanted/caught list of Iraqis pack of cards (only because I fancied the challenge of getting them for 200 less than the outrageous asking price of 250baht and because they are rather amusing) as well as a print of an oil painting of three Arab horses. Nothing remotely tasteful or Burmese, but then the market wasn't really geared towards that... The only authentic Burmese stuff was various endangered animal parts.
We wandered a bit through the town and bought ice creams. School children would say hello but mostly we were ignored. Except by tuktuk drivers. eventually Sara and I meandered up to a temple. We didn't enter, I refused to and Sara wasn't bothered either, but there were some rather spectacular views across the town and out to some mountains shrouded in haze whose air of the forbidden only added to a quick sense of intense curiosity (our visas only really let us into the border town. Any further and we would have to apply for a permit at an embassy). I would love to know what is going on the other side of those green hills...
To think there was a time when I, as a British citizen, could wander at will.
The most memorable thing about Myanmar for me was how you could see that this country is a bridge between South Asia and East Asia. People were not only Thai looking but also Indian. It was rather unexpected for me, who thinks of India to be as remote from China as Moscow, to be reminded that it is in fact rather local.
After a lunch of Burmese chicken and rice which brought out the typical Jones reaction to spice (FIRE IN THE HOLD!) we headed back into Thailand because, quite frankly, we'd run out of things to do. Thus ended our first visit to a country genuinely unpopular on the international stage.
Damn I wish North Korea wasn't so expensive- it would be so fascinating... Anyone want to lend me a grand?
First Sara and I headed to Chiang Rai, a small town in the north of Thailand. We didn't do much here, except sleep, although I got very excited to find a 7/11 that contained food I recognised. Tuna sandwiches! We did have dinner at one place, though, which was rather eery. There was noone apart from us and the general gloom of the room and the slightly detached air of the proprietress lent a rather foreboding air, like somewhere out back was a Greek bed that guests had to fit in or adjustments would be made... In contrast, the guesthouse where we stayed had staff falling over themselves to help us, all with the famed Thai Grin.
The next day we headed up to Mae Sai. Mae Sai has a Tesco Lotus superstore, a market filled with junk, and a crossing point with Myanmar which is why Sara and I had rocked up. After shedding our bags we skipped up to the checkpoint, paid 500 baht each for a visa, (annoyingly the price in dollars was cheaper but we had exchanged all our dollars for baht...) and arrived in the Union of Myanmar, erstwhile British colony of Burma.
Tachileik, the Burmese border town, was slightly disappointingly normal. The market was stuffed with souvenirs and fake designer bags (including some rather nice Paul Smith ones). Prices were all in baht and I have a suspicion we couldn't have got hold of whatever the Burmese currency is even if we wanted to. I bought a pack of cards that was based on the Americans' wanted/caught list of Iraqis pack of cards (only because I fancied the challenge of getting them for 200 less than the outrageous asking price of 250baht and because they are rather amusing) as well as a print of an oil painting of three Arab horses. Nothing remotely tasteful or Burmese, but then the market wasn't really geared towards that... The only authentic Burmese stuff was various endangered animal parts.
We wandered a bit through the town and bought ice creams. School children would say hello but mostly we were ignored. Except by tuktuk drivers. eventually Sara and I meandered up to a temple. We didn't enter, I refused to and Sara wasn't bothered either, but there were some rather spectacular views across the town and out to some mountains shrouded in haze whose air of the forbidden only added to a quick sense of intense curiosity (our visas only really let us into the border town. Any further and we would have to apply for a permit at an embassy). I would love to know what is going on the other side of those green hills...
To think there was a time when I, as a British citizen, could wander at will.
The most memorable thing about Myanmar for me was how you could see that this country is a bridge between South Asia and East Asia. People were not only Thai looking but also Indian. It was rather unexpected for me, who thinks of India to be as remote from China as Moscow, to be reminded that it is in fact rather local.
After a lunch of Burmese chicken and rice which brought out the typical Jones reaction to spice (FIRE IN THE HOLD!) we headed back into Thailand because, quite frankly, we'd run out of things to do. Thus ended our first visit to a country genuinely unpopular on the international stage.
Damn I wish North Korea wasn't so expensive- it would be so fascinating... Anyone want to lend me a grand?
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