Trekking Around Chiang Mai

On Tuesday morning I woke up early, checked out of my room, and waited downstairs to be picked up for my trek. When choosing my trek the previous day, I had the option of visiting an extra tribal area at the start of the trek for 500 Baht more. I didn't want to be the lone member of the group to omit the start of the trip, so I decided to accept it. Furthermore, one of the tribes was the 'long neck' tribe, a topic which Bjorn had been enthusiastic about on my first day in Chiang Mai. As it turns out, however, I was the only person in my group to opt to see the extra tribes.

I was taken to a small village which comprised of four tribes. It surprised me that there were four tribes there rather than one, but nevertheless I went along with it. Being the only person from my group to choose to see the village, I was shown round by my very own personal guide, but what I saw was nothing but hugely perplexing! Each of the four tribes had just a few huts, with a Thai and English sign on the opening hut stating which tribe they were. Small tourist oriented shops selling locally made wristbands or ornaments were manifest. There would always be a few people or children dotted about, seemingly doing some sort of tribal chore such as chopping wood or sewing. A beautiful curved road of stone weaved through a small rice field, and a relatively modern looking church nestled on the top of the slope in the final tribal section. As my guide continued to spill out random tribal facts and figures, there was only one question on my mind; 'Is this for real?'. It's a question I didn't pluck up the courage to ask, but I was confident of the answer. It felt like I was visiting a museum rather than a genuine village. On the ride to meet the rest of my group, I could just picture the tribe people watching their widescreen TVs and playing their Playstations in the back room of a hut, waiting and laughing until it was time to resume their places in the village before the next flock of gullible tourists were due. Whether I was being too cynical, I don't know, but my hopes for the tour had very quickly diminished.

An hour later I joined the rest of my group. Even if the tour was to be a flop, it didn't take long to realise that I was with a great group of people. Our group of ten included four Frenchmen, one Canadian and one Korean. It was probably the English, however, who I bonded with the most. They were Ed and Alice from Dorset and Kirsty from London.

A fantastic elephant ride was next on our itinerary. This ride was good, probably even better than my previous elephant ride. At one point my elephant freaked out and almost decided to go on a stampede, but to my relief he decided otherwise. Next up was a three hour trek. The first half of the trek was tiring, but nevertheless fun. There were some great views and it was an excellent opportunity to get to know the group. It was also an excellent opportunity to discover that the grip on my shoes was probably not ideal for walking up steep slopes!

After a quick break, the second half of the day's trekking began. This was tough. It was uphill almost all the way, often up rocky steps. Sometimes it was just dirt steps. Every time I looked up it appeared that I was at the peak of the hill, but looking up a minute later only appeared to have moved the peak higher. We climbed slope after slope, and I clearly wasn't the only one finding the experience quite gruelling. The views were increasingly spectacular, but that doesn't mean much when you're constantly concentrating on where to find your next foothold.

By the time we reached a break point towards the top, I was covered from the chest down in a marbled sheet of dirt. Looking at everyone else, however, told a different story. While I had seemingly showered in gravel, everyone else looked they just had participated in the Daz challenge - and with pleasing results! As we all rested to catch our breath, we had a chance to take in the scenery. To think that we had climbed so high was extremely rewarding. Furthermore, we knew we were close to our destination.

When the hill tribe village was in sight I think everyone felt relieved. For me this was particularly true for it was nothing like the tribal village I had visited earlier in the day. Although there were clearly a good number of huts solely used for tourist groups such as ourselves, it was clearly a real village.

After settling in our hut and taking a shower I was ready to explore. It was not long before I came across an American tourist who was attempting to start a game of football with some local kids. This was an opportunity I could not refuse. As the two versus three football extravaganza kicked off, my team began on the offensive. I passed the ball to the American. The American passed the ball back. After weighing up my options and drawing the opposition towards me, I spied the American free with a clear sight on goal. As I played the pass, however, the American had just begun to make a different run. He was wrong footed, and he failed to reach the ball. It was at this moment I realised that our miniature football pitch had no fencing round it. As the ball dropped off the side of the pitch I became aware of another fact; I had just kicked a child's football off the edge of a pitch on a very lofty hill top village! I had potentially lost the ball and conceded a thrown-in in a single move. Luckily for me, there was a hut not too far away to break the ball's fall and one of the local kids managed to receive the ball before it's momentum continued.

While the ball was in retrieval, a small boy approached me and appeared to want something. As he tugged my shirt and began prodding me, it took me a moment to work out what he wanted. I eventually sussed it out; he wanted a ride. As I picked the boy up onto my back it became apparent that he knew where he wanted to go. As he pointed down various dirt tracks, I duly took him. The faster I went the louder he began to giggle. At one point I found myself back beside my group's hut. I turned around to the sight of a light downward slope. There was only one thing to do. As I accelerated down the slope and weaved around the other children, the boy's laughter began to increase. However, my energy was doing the opposite. I was tired and placed the boy down. The boy, however, began to prod and tug again. "No more" I said, but even if he understood he wasn't prepared to break. He only gave in when he came up with a new request. He pointed at my money belt! Not only had the boy acquired himself a free taxi ride round the slopes of his hillside village, but he wanted payment for it! Is this a service he provides westerners? There was only one way to divert his attention; another ride. The craze of taxi-ing children around the village had began to take off, and my team took great pleasure in overtaking Kirsty's Taxi Service as we sped through the dirt track. Exhausted again I eventually put the boy down, desperately trying to offload the boy into the hands of another unsuspecting and naive tourist.

Later that evening my group resigned to our hut. After being provided with a great meal, our guide unleashed his guitar playing skills on us and we camped around a fire beneath a clear night's sky. The earlier uphill struggle was totally forgotten.

The following morning we began to trek again. As soon as we began it was uphill and my recuperating legs began to burn. I started to question why I had decided to haul children around the village so soon after such a tiring trek the previous day! We were already very high though, and before long we began to descend. A few slippery rocks over some low streams reminded me of my inadequate footwear, and the steep hillside drops besides some narrow ledges did nothing to sooth my mind. The day was much easier than the previous one though, and in the evening, as we settled in our jungle campsite, everyone seemed relax. Ed and one of the Frenchmen had bought some wooden slingshots from some villagers and took great pleasure in aiming at some strategically placed plastic bottles. The following night's sleep was particularly cold, but I was tired enough to barely care.

The final day's trekking involved barely thirty minutes on foot. Following this was some disappointingly slow, albeit fun, river rafting, followed by a slow drift along the river on a lightweight bamboo raft. After this we headed back to the city.

On my return to Chiang Mai, I decided to join the Canadian in finding a place to stay. This has been slightly awkward so far because I never got round to memorising his name! There always gets to a point where you have known someone too long to ask "So what's your name again?'. Unfortunately for me, I think that moment was two days ago. I will address him as 'mate' until we go our separate ways; I think this should suffice.

Tonight I will take things easy and rest. I am ready to leave Chiang Mai, but am yet to decide on where to go. One possible destination is Pai; it has been recommended to me by a few people. Furthermore, as I checked Facebook just moments ago, Arm has added me as a friend - and he was also in Pai at the time of writing. Tomorrow is a new day.

Solo in Chiang Mai

Following my burger and chips, I decided to make a quick late visit to the weekend night market before heading off to bed. Shortly before I returned to my hostel, however, I stumbled across a side road which appeared to boast lots of lively bars. I decided to take a stroll down it, increasingly enticed by what sounded like a cover of a Kings of Leon track. The area was bustling with tourists, and the cover band playing at Heaven Beach were fantastic. I decided to stay for a quick drink whilst enjoying some great renditions of Arctic Monkeys and Radiohead tracks.

Shortly before the band were due to finish, the Thai guy next to me at the bar handed a list of requests to the band. As they kicked into some more Kings Of Leon, I got talking to the man. "They make me want to go up there and play!" he said. "Me too!" I replied. The man's name was 'Arm'. When I repeated his name back to him to ensure I heard him correctly he duly pointed to his forearm! What struck me very quickly about Arm was how incredible his English was. He actually sounded British at times! As it turns out, he spent five years living in Cardiff. We began talking about music and playing guitar, and it turns out that he has a band back in Bangkok. They often play at the Silk bar on Khao San Road. He then asked me if I would like to play guitar with him on stage once the current band were finished! Unsure of whether sporadically jumping on stage with a stranger and playing an unrehearsed song was a good idea, I was pensive. As we continued to chat, therefore, Arm proposed a different idea - would I like to play guitar with him back on Khao San Road! Going all the way back to Bangkok was not currently in my plan - although having said that, my plan has always been extremely vague and open anyway! I await to see if he contacts me - and then he will have to wait to see if I think it's a good idea!

The following morning I said farewell to Richard as he departed for his trek. The rest of the day, unfortunately, was not so successful. After only just leaving my room in time for the 11 0 Clock check-out, I was forced to move to a different guest house as mine was full. It then took a few attempts before I found one with a vacant single room, although this did lead to an interesting conversation with an English guy with his own t-shirt company. Later in the afternoon I had a walk round Chiang Mai's markets before taking the advice of my guide book and waiting until 6pm to head to the zoo. This is when the Twilight Zone is open and the animals are fed - or so the guide book thinks! Upon arrival at the zoo it appeared that things were closing down, and indeed they were. There was no such thing as a Twilight Zone. My lesson was learnt; don't blindly trust the guide book!

On the bus back to Chiang Mai a young boy, tired from a day at the zoo, offered me one of his M&Ms. I think he felt my sorrow - and to be honest it felt more welcoming than a toilet roll! Upon accepting the gift I began talking to his parents as the boy began to fall asleep. They were an Israeli couple who had moved to China and were now taking a holiday in Thailand. Although I had expected to be spending the evening watching a panda munch on it's dinner, it was nevertheless an enjoyable journey home. Slightly deflated by the unsuccessful day, however, I turned in early for the night.

This morning I decided it was time to book a trek. Tomorrow morning, therefore, I have an early start before three days of elephant riding, white water rafting, jungle trekking, hill tribes and more! In preparation for what would surely be an exhausting experience, I decided to take things easy, although I still probably achieved more than the previous day. In the morning I took a trip to Doi Suphet; a temple way up high to the West of Chiang Mai. This provided some great views of the city. In the afternoon I took a visit to the opposite side of Chiang Mai city, before returning back to the hostel to relax. I await tommorrow where things may begin to regain speed!

Arrival In Chiang Mai

I stepped onto my 11 hour train to Chiang Mai with plenty of time to spare. The 11 hours, however, turned into 14. The train set off late and arrived even later! Nevertheless I enjoyed the trip, and being a night train I would sleep for most of the way. I was expecting my carriage to be full of fellow travellers, but initially I appeared to be surrounded by Thais. This included a man who was dressed like an Army General on the other side of the carriage. It was the man in front of me, however, who decided to break the ice. It turns out that he was a Korean man very fluent in English. He apparently once lived in Bournemouth and took great pleasure in telling me the story of how his house was once burgled. The Army General also appeared to be enjoying our conversation!

A little later I began chatting with a South African family. As I lent them my guide book, the train pulled up at a station. The General, who I had spoken barely two words to, had come to the conclusion that I deserved a little present! "For you" he exclaimed, handing me my gift. Partly stunned by the sudden act of kindness, and partly knocked back by the fact that I was suddenly holding a barely used toilet roll in my palms, I blurted out a 'thank you' and allowed the officer to depart, smugness intact. I already was carrying a toilet roll, and once he left the carriage I casually placed his roll onto the upper luggage compartment and returned to the South Africans. Shortly after this we retired to bed.

When we arrived in Chiang Mai I said my farewells and good lucks to the Korean and the South Africans and stepped onto the platform. I had already identified the Eagle House 2 hostel from my guide book as a place to stay and planned to give them a ring. Before I had the chance, however, I was approached by a fellow traveller who had overheard some of my earlier conversations. He was Richard from Sweden. Within minutes we found ourselves on a free ride to Eagle House 2 and subsequently booking a twin room. I paid around a quarter of what I'd been paying for accommodation in Bangkok, but the room seems fine.

After settling our belongings, Richard and I headed off into Chiang Mai. It's so refreshing to not be in Bangkok. Chiang Mai is so much calmer and less humid. After wandering the streets of Chiang Mai and visiting a couple of temples, we sat down for some food at a small Thai cafe. Richard was a more experienced traveller than me and attempted to ask the waitress for a 'traditional Thai dish'. The waitress was struggling to understand, but help was at hand in the shape of Bjorn Lincoln! Bjorn, another Swede, has been in Thailand for many years. With his loose grasp of the Thai language, Bjorn aided Richard in ordering his meal. I took my chance to use Bjorn as well - I asked him to enquire if the Red Curry here was hot! 'Only a little bit' implied the waitress! If I could enjoy a red curry in a Western Bangkok restaurant, I thought, it was time for me to sample a real Thai one.

Richard and I spent the next two or three hours chatting to Bjorn - or more accurately, listening to Bjorn chat to us! Bjorn was full of useful and interesting information. As he harpered on about how great Abba were, how Vikings didn't actually have horns, why some Chiang Mai village people have such long necks, and how he is named after Abraham Lincoln, Richard and I became more engrossed. We continued to take interest in Bjorn and enquire on where he recommended we go in Chiang Mai. What Bjorn didn't notice, however, was the increasing squirming and eye watering that I was attempting to hide. After my first mouthful of red curry from a proper Thai restaurant, I had come to the decision that it was hot, but palatable and enjoyable. As Bjorn continued to indoctrinate us with his pro-Thai and pro-Swedish propaganda, I found my Coke and rice beginning to whittle down, and my mouth begin to heat up. My next enquiry on Chiang Mai was probably not what Bjorn expected. "So, erm, if you have a curry and its very hot, what should you drink to cool it down?" I asked. Bjorn, seemingly the master of all things Thai and Swedish, surprised me even more with his answer. "I don't know" he replied. I ended up with some water, and by the end of the meeting I returned to normal, albeit with some great knowledge of Chiang Mai and a new found love for Sweden!

On the walk back to the hostel, Richard booked himself onto a Chiang Mai trek for tommorrow. Chiang Mai is renowned as being the Thai centre for trekking, and I too will book one, maybe for a couple of days time. As he booked his chosen package, I left Richard and returned to my room. It was a good couple of hours since I ate my curry, and it was becoming increasingly more obvious. As I sat in our en suite bathroom I could only laugh at the irony. While I was forced to begin the rationing of my toilet roll, a virtually unused roll was lying dormant in an upper compartment of the Bangkok-Chiang Mai Express.

While Richard left the room in search of a quiet evening before his trek, I set out to see what the evening would bring me. As it turns out so far, it's brought me a nice and familiar Western burger and chips, and some free internet to write my blog entry.

Kanchanaburi

I went to bed early on Wednesday in preparation for my early morning trip to Kanchanaburi. However, it was barely 11 hours since awaking from the night out on Khao San Road, and overall I can't have got more than five hours sleep. Once my driver arrived to meet me in the lobby he lead me outside. A green shabby pick up truck with some boxes on the back and space for a couple of people was waiting outside. 'Surely not' I thought. "We go in this!" stated the driver. As my face dropped the driver laughed out loud, "No no" he joked. The real mini bus was hiding behind the truck.

It's incredible how cheap things are over here. I paid about 14 pounds for the trip. This included a visit to the Kanchanaburi World War 2 Prisoner Of War Cemetery, a World War 2 Museum and Art Gallery, a marginally hazardous walk on the bridge over the River Kwai, a nice lunch, a quaint little elephant trek, a beautiful bamboo raft trip, a break at a stunning little waterfall, a journey on the Death Railway (built by thousands of prisoners of war, many of whom perished on the tracks), plus what must have totalled about 5 or 6 hours of transport. Overall it was fantastic. The other tourists on the trip were great as well, although one of them learnt the hard way that when you're about to hop onto a bamboo raft, don't assume that the little rock on the water is a stepping stone ... it may just to turn out to be a floating piece of foam. (Whether the locals place it there for a laugh, I don't know!). The trip was incredibly well organised; we did so much in such a confined space of time. According to some of the other travellers, this was one of the best trips they'd been on, and I hope to experience many more like it.

I returned back to Bangkok in great spirits. It felt like my travelling had really started to begin, and the bus ride home had been the first time I could really relax, switch on my IPod, and sing along to myself to some Damien Rice. Whether the other travellers noticed me tapping my feet and mouthing the words, I didn't really care. It didn't even bother me one bit that I currently had no place to stay for the night!

As it turned out, finding a place to stay was extremely easy. After all, I was being dropped off in the tourist centre of Bangkok. Many single rooms with a fan were available, and many air conditioned double rooms were available, but ultimately I found a little air-con single room in the sprightly named 'Happy House'.

With my bags stored in my new room, I decided to be brave. It was time to sample some Red Thai Curry! I placed my order at quite a western looking restaurant, ordered a red curry and a big bottle of water, and subsequently wondered if maybe my taste buds would have found a mushroom pizza and coke more inviting. My curry arrived and looked great, despite the red chilli settled in the centre of my plate. I slowly and awkwardly maneuvered a tiny drop of red curry sauce into the corner of my spoon, followed by an ample supply of rice. As I brought the spoon closer, all my senses were alive with anticipation. Initially I tasted little, but I hung on a few more seconds waiting for the burning after taste. There was none. I gathered a bigger spoon full and tried again. It was mild ... but also absolutely delicious. I gobbled down the lot, paid the bill, and headed down to Boots; the only thing that was burning was my sun-burnt neck.

I slept well that night, and the following morning I went back to where I booked my Kanchanaburi trip and booked an 11 hour night train to Chiang Mai in North Thailand. My Bangkok visit is about to come to an end. There have been ups and downs, fun and laughter, exhausting heat, confusion and sunburn, but ultimately I'm happy with how things have gone. I hope to escape the humidity, but in honesty I have to continue to expect heat wherever I go. Chiang Mai is famous for trekking, so only time will tell what that brings.

The Night Of Brian

So last night, as planned, I met up with Brian, the guy I deserted in Heathrow airport. Despite his grievances about me leaving him alone in the airport, he was a good laugh. He was in Bangkok with his mate Paul, and we spent the whole night talking about travelling, being scared on your first night (even Brian, who is 54 and in Bangkok with a mate, was frightened), and talking to other travellers. We met Canadian Mark, who had travelled from Scotland to Bangkok entirely by land, including a detour to Nepal in which he got abducted for a couple of days (or so he claims!). We then met Romein, a Frenchman who couldn't understand a word of Brian's northern twang. I found myself playing the role of 'interpreter' for the two. Meanwhile, Romein was gleefully tucking in to some fried grasshopper and fried worm he recently bought from the street! Brian and Paul also enjoyed routing the conversation to their favourite topic; Thai prostitutes! Apparently, 'a young good looking guy like me' could get them for half the price they do! There is a famous saying, of course, that goes 'Try something new every day', so after todays course of events, I did ... I sampled the delights of Thai fried grasshopper and worm. It was crunchy and tasty.

I ended up getting to bed at nearly 4 in the morning. Today has therefore been a late starter. However, I intended to try and organise a tour, or at least some transport to somewhere further afield. After a browse through my guide book, I hailed a taxi and asked him to take me to the official Tourism Authority of Thailand. I specifically wanted to go there rather than one of the many unofficial ones that can potentially rip you off. However, the taxi driver had other ideas. After a quick phone call to a friend, I noticed that we seemed to be going the wrong way. As I became gradually more unnerved, he reassured me we were almost there. Eventually we arrived at his friends unofficial tourist shop, where his friend was happy to greet me at the entrance. Deflated by the experience, I walked in the opposite direction. I hailed a taxi and went straight back to my hostel - time was already pressing on.

It was only around an hour later that I did what I probably should have done all along - I used the Tours desk at the hostel I was staying at! Now whether I've been ripped off yet, I don't know, but tomorrow I now have a 7am start and a trip to the River Kwai. This includes elephant riding, bamboo boats, and the worryingly named Death Railway. If I survive, my next blog will tell you all about it. If I don't, at least I spent my final week on earth doing what all grown men aspire to do; bug eating.

Arrival in Bangkok

It feels like I've spent a lifetime organising this - Where to go, how to get there, how to do it .... but I'm not sure there was any way to plan for the moment where I suddenly realised that it had finally begun. Standing in the entrance of Manchester airport I found myself eerily alone, and if things were to go as expected, I wouldn't see another familiar face for 12 months! It was now and it was real. But after all, what could really go wrong?

As it turns out, quite a lot could go wrong. The following 15 hours involved a phone call with a tired man at STA Travel telling me they had forgotten to issue my flight and that I couldn't travel, one very clever woman at BA somehow swindling me onto the flights, one delayed flight, one madcap rush to get a second flight, and finally a visit to a Bangkok arrivals desk informing me that my luggage was currently sitting in Heathrow airport. Without going into the grinding details of all that, I eventually found myself sitting in my Bangkok guest house with little more luggage on me than the clothes on my back, a couple of guide books, and some nibbles from the plane. I had arrived.

I always intended my first evening away to be very low key. Just a light stroll around the backpacker corner of Bangkok. The aim of this was to take things easy and try to relax. I always expected, however, that any nerves or fears or home-sickness would strike at this very point, and I think they did. Strolling round the manic streets of Bangkok in the humid evening heat was slightly more strenuous than I anticipated. The only redeeming feature, however, was that in many ways I wasn't the only one. Dotted amongst the crowds of Thais and foreigners were other reflections of myself; first-time travellers looking daunted, lost, lonely, and possibly thinking the words 'What on earth am I doing'? And those exact words came back to haunt me on my first night in Bangkok too.

My second day, however, appears to show that things are starting to turn round. I had a good trip around the Grand Palace and Leaning Buddha, my luggage is due to arrive at my guest house at 8pm, and I had a very random meeting with a guy who 24 hours earlier had refused to join me in a sprint through Heathrow airport in a last gasp bid to make our connecting flight. Quite clearly he made it. I'm due to meet up with him for a drink later, possibly even with the luxury of a new and clean set of clothes!