More Chiang Mai, including: Weird Food!

Previous blog to the contrary, I did not spend all my time in Chiang Mai lounging around the pool and having massages. As I mentioned, I did go see a big temple, and I hashed, and I even did a bit of shopping. And of course there was weird food. Read on for the details.

The old part of Chiang Mai is a tidy square bounded by a moat and the remains of the city walls that once surrounded it. Both my posh hotel and the not-so-posh-but-still-damned-nice-for-$23-a-night place I moved to were within this area, and it made for easy navigation – both of them were on the main road running from Tha Phae Gate, right in the middle of the eastern side of the moat.

The moat near Tha Phae Gate. There were fish in that moat. Big, big fish.

The Chiang Mai Hashers are a well-organized bunch. I’d been in contact with them ahead of time, but even if I hadn’t been it wouldn’t have been hard to find them. Their website is decent, and they have a fixed pickup point (well actually two) that never changes from week to week. All you have to do is find the closest pickup to your location on the handy Google map provided, and show up at the appointed hour. And it doesn’t hurt that the pickup point I chose was a bar called the Hash House, and was conveniently located on the moat near Tha Phae Gate. There was also a big notice board on the wall too, so there was no chance I could think I was in the wrong place.

The CMSH3 notice board. Damn, I just realized I forgot to sign it!

I rode out to the run in a sawng thaew - a local mini pick-up with bench seats and a canopy – that had a weekly gig just for the hash. Along with me went a couple of local hashers and two gigantic coolers full of water, beer and big blocks of ice. The run was set in a rural area, but unfortunately there’d been a big downpour in between the time the trail was marked and when were were to start. This washed away a lot of the markings, and made the first half of the run a muddy mess, but that’s what hashing is all about, so off we went. Luckily, the hares had the foresight to mark the trail not just with flour but also with small bits of paper weighed down by rocks, so all was not lost.

Once we were through the muddy bit and across a small stream (which served nicely to wash the 7.3 pounds of mud off my shoes), the run turned into a forested area that must recently have been the subject of a controlled burn, because we ran over a lot of charred remains, and even a few bits that were still smoldering, which was a bit eerie. And once again, I chose to run the “Rambo” trail instead of the “Wimp” trail, and once again I regretted that choice almost immediately. I haven’t been feeling in top form for a while now, and had been slow and wheezy for the first half of the run, so in an uncharacteristic fit of lucidity I actually changed my mind and turned back for the Wimp Trail. But of course there was a load of other people heading towards me, Rambo-bound, and I couldn’t really go backwards past all them… So back I went, Rambo all the way. I will not learn.

The scenery on trail. Not exactly Hyde Park.

The circle after the run was pretty standard – lots of beer, lots of in-jokes, and lots of people going on too long about lots of things. Much much later we went off to a seafood restaurant and had food and more beer, and it was all lovely. The Sunday “Happy Hash” was much the same, though the run was shorter and the circle was more relaxed. All in all, the Chiang Mai hashers were as friendly and fun a bunch as I’ve met so far, and I was happy to chalk up hashes #22 and 23 with them.

After that Sunday Hash, I got dropped me off right at Tha Phae Gate for the short walk back to the home. (Yes I do think of the hotel, any hotel, as home. Not Home, mind you, but home, at least. You’ve gotta have somewhere.) On Sundays that area is transformed into what’s called the Sunday Walking Street, which is essentially another night market. There are lots of different foods stalls, and people selling local handcrafts, t shirts, knock-off Rolex watches, you name it. (Strangely, there always seem to be a lot of stalls selling men’s underwear in these kind of markets. Call me old-fashioned, but I just don’t think I’d want to buy underwear on the street at eleven o’clock at night on a Sunday.) I wandered happily through the maze of stalls, generally heading in the direction of the hotel, when I had one of those long-term travel weird coincidences - I ran into a load of Danes! Two from good old Tree House 7, and two from way back on the China tour! It turns out that the Danes from TH7 – Christina and Cecilia – were friends with two of the Danes from China – Ditte and Simone – and they’d found each other by chance there in Chiang Mai. And then they found me. It was bizarre and fun, so I wandered with them a bit, and also met up with Todd from the tree house, who was bargaining for a cheap knock-off Rolex for his mom. Very odd, but also fun.

After my weird encounter with the Danes and Todd, I continued towards my hotel. Ever alert for the possibility of weird food, I knew I’d found it when I saw this sign:

Don’t you just say to yourself sometimes, “Damn, what I really want is some vegetable jelly made by Chinese plant. I hope they have black. And throw some sugar on that baby!”

I lingered long enough in front of the stall that eventually a young couple who were sampling the product urged me to try it, so I did. My normally immaculate financial record-keeping has let me down here, but I’m pretty sure it was about ฿20, so less than a dollar. And it was… well, it was definitely weird. There were three parts:

1. Black jelly. A very very firm jelly, black, that was scraped off a big sort of disk of the stuff yielding spoon-sized shavings that went into the bottom of a styrofoam dish.
   
2. Ice. In large chunks – bigger than crushed, smaller than cubed, placed on top of the jelly
3. Sugar. Very coarse dark brown sugar - sprinkled on top of the ice

Some assembly required

The friendly couple told me you were supposed to mix it all up, so I did that with the spoon provided. Well I could have mixed that stuff until I got off the plane in Winnipeg on Day 350 and I don’t think it would have helped. The sugar part was ok – sort of like blackstrap molasses in crystallized form. The ice was great; ice never goes amiss in Southeast Asia. Nope, it was the jelly that soured the deal. I’m not sure how to describe the flavour… it was sort of… black. Not blackberry. Not black currant. Just… black. I didn’t realize black had a flavour, but I guess that was it. And rest assured that black is not set to take the flavour world by storm. Do not look for Ben & Jerry’s “Burstin’ Black Beauty Ripple” in your local grocer’s freezer case any time soon. In fact, the whole concoction was so distasteful that it brought on a brief relapse of the vague stomach trouble I’d been having for days. I’ve just started to compile a few “Top Five” lists for the trip – most and least favourite cities, hashes fondly remembered – that kind of thing, and it only took a few spoonfuls for black jelly to secure a firm place on the “Bottom Five Worst Weird Foods” list along with pig ears and worms. And that’s enough said about that.

But fear not! There is also good news on the Weird Food front, because on Monday afternoon I found the Holy Grail that I’d been seeking since Luang Prabang. Yes, kids, I found the eggs-on-a-stick!

See what I mean? They’re eggs. ON A STICK! Am I the only one who finds this whole concept bizarre and fantastic at the same time? I mean if you had to name one food that manifestly does NOT lend itself to being skewered with a stick, wouldn’t it be an egg?

Ok, yes, the eggs are hard cooked, but I don’t think that detracts from the pure brilliance of the form, which revealed itself when I got back to the hotel room and cracked open my first skewered egg, still warm from the vendor. As you can (I hope) see in my crummy photo, the interior of a skewered egg is not like that of a regular hard cooked egg. There was no separation between white and yolk at all, leading me to guess that the egg had somehow been scrambled inside the shell before it was cooked. (PPon, these are just made for you!) Tasting further strengthened this determination, because I could swear that the eggs had also been seasoned with salt and pepper. Or perhaps these were just some kind of magical egg that never had a yolk to being with, laid by a creature with salt and pepper running in its veins (anyone who knows anything about these eggs, please chime in). Whatever the source or method, the result was really tasty. Definitely Top Five material.

Crummy photo, but you can see what I mean. And yes, they were that sort of greeny-bluish colour.

My last evening in Chiang Mai was spent doing something I haven’t done much of on this trip – shopping! I walked all the way to the main Night Market (not the tetchy Sunday variety) which turned out to be absolutely massive, running for blocks and blocks and blocks. I had my eye on some table-top lantern/lamp thingies that I’d noticed the night before, so it was fun to wander the stalls knowing that eventually I was actually going to buy something, for myself, to keep! After I scouted around a bit I zeroed in on a place that seemed as good as any other. I’m total rubbish at bargaining, but I did manage to get two matching lamps for ฿220 (less than $7.00) not including the light socket. (I figured I’d rather do my own electrical work than rely on potentially dodgey weirdly-plugged, oddly-socketed stuff). I think I got a good deal.

One of the many many many stalls selling the type of lantern I bought

Then I wandered around some more, and had a nice mango shake, and wandered some more, and even thought about buying some more electrical stuff, because I these were really neat:

They’re covers for twinkie lights that look like little multi-coloured balls of string. I thought they’d be fun to string up out on a deck, if I still had a deck…

And that’s about it for Chiang Mai. On Tuesday morning I was off to the airport for my flight to Siem Reap, which was a bit of a balls-up because Thai Airways took the liberty of canceling the flight I booked and rebooking me on a flight that arrived in Bangkok too late for me to get my connecting flight to Siem Reap. However they cleared it up when I checked in, and got me on a later connecting flight, so I was left with a few hours to kill in International Airport Land (Bangkok), which was just fine. I did some more shopping to replace my headphones, the last half of which had died on the four hour drive to Chiang Mai (great timing). And I bought a hard copy of the LP Japan, and the LP Japanese phrasebook. It’s the last LP of the trip, folks; the end is coming fast.

But not before I see Angkor Wat, which is next on the list, so don’t touch that dial!

Aimless luxury in Chiang Mai

I’ve reached an odd but, I suppose, inevitable state. When I got to Chiang Mai in northern Thailand, I asked around about what I should see and do there – locals, other tourists, hotel staff – anyone who might have an opinion about what wonders Chiang Mai had to offer. Well it turns out that what Chiang Mai can boast a reasonable list of interesting things that I have already done. There are Buddhist temples in abundance – done that. There’s a highly recommended zip-ling day trip – obviously that was out. There’s a well-regarded elephant sanctuary – remember Nepal? How about white water rafting? Uganda. Cooking class? Jungle trek? Night Market? Check (x2), check, check. Stifling heat? Friendly people? Spicy food? I could go on and on. I realize this sounds sort of ungrateful and jaded, but it’s honestly what happened.

Errr… another temple (Actually, Wat Chedi Luang. I think.)

So what did I do? Well, I finally decided to use the money given to me by the Winnipeg Hashers when I left town lo these many months ago and splash out on a really nice hotel. I know it was intended to be used in an extreme circumstance, when I really needed to retreat and regroup in total luxury, but I think I may have waited too long. Also, the trouble is that most of those moments of despair came when there really wasn’t an upgrade possible – like, for instance, that rainy Christmas morning in Africa. If I’d had the chance I certainly would have strolled down to the Serengeti Hilton, but it turns out there were all booked up (the holidays, you know). So instead I decided I’d treat myself after the sweatiness and rusticity of Tree House 7. Also, I stretched the rules of the game a bit. Rather than one night in the best place in town, I opted for a 3-night package deal at a really nice boutique hotel in the old city. I figured the most relaxing thing would be if I didn’t have to up sticks and move to a new place just as I was getting used to the good life.

And that’s how I ended up at the Tamarind Village in the old city of Chiang Mai, on their 3-night “Simply Lanna” Package. It included:

• three nights of boutique accommodations
  
• breakfast buffet every morning (with omelet bar!)
• a dinner of traditional Thai food
• two 90-minute massages (Well, it was actually a package intended for two people, so I just booked one person twice!)
• a private temple tour

The view of the pool, from breakfast

It wasn’t cheap, but the Hash money added to the amount I would have spent on food and accommodations anyways meant that it was still in the budget, so off I went.

Ha! Did you see how I said, “off I went” as if it was a simple thing? Nothing is simple in Southeast Asia. In reality, this is what happened:

Woke up in Tree House 7 and made the sweaty one and a half hour trek to get to the village. Waited in the village. Got into the back of a tuk tuk for a trip that seemed eleven times longer than it was on the way in. Arrived in the bustling metropolis of Huay Xai and checked at the old guest house to make sure my pre-booked, pre-paid minibus to Chiang Mai was all still fine. Found out that only one other person had booked the minibus, so the minibus was about to be cancelled. Had small freak out. Asked how many people were needed to ensure the departure of the minibus. Press-ganged Todd, Kat, Christina and Cecelia into taking the trip with me on the promise of an half-empty minibus with air-con (they were going to Chiang Mai anyways, honest). Checked email. Raced over to Narlene and Marcus’s hotel room (other gibbon buddies) and used their generously-offered shower to become human. Started sweating again before I’ve even walked out of the bathroom. Ran around gathering some food for the trip. Waited with the gang for the 4:00 pm minibus. Checked with the weird old guesthouse lady the confirm the bus was really coming. Was told that we were supposed to meet the bus on the other side of the river in Thailand, but don’t worry, it bus wasn’t leaving until 5:00pm. (We were supposed to know this…?) Race to Laos customs to get stamped out of the country. Pay ridiculous “overtime fee” for arriving and expecting service between 4:00 pm and 6:00 pm (Ok, it was only $1 USD, but still). Get into a small canoe-like boat and cross over into Thailand. Pass through Thai customs. Try to find the minibus. Get found by a tuk tuk driver who says we are to get in the tuk tuk and it will take us to where the minibus is. Obey. Arrive at a guesthouse that is, apparently, the jumping-off point for the minibus. Check at reception only to be told the bus actually leaves at 6:30 pm. Speak strongly to the guy behind the counter to no avail. Resign self to 6:30pm departure, and also discover our half-empty minibus that had been in danger of not going at all for lack of passengers now has eleven people booked on it. Wait more, sweat more, fret more, feel bad about getting my TH7 buddies into all this, wait a bit more. Pile onto minibus at 6:30 pm, which miraculously turns out to be as advertised – comfortable, clean, modern and blissfully air conditioned. Ride for four hours through the dark and arrive in Chiang Mai at about 11:00 pm. Take yet another tuk tuk to Tamarind Village Hotel. Check in. On the way to the room, notice a six inch long scorpion scuttling across the floor of the open air reception area. Get to room. Drink beer. Reflect on the interesting and fluid nature of travel and life in Southeast Asia. Collapse.

So like I said, off I went.

Tamarind Village was great. You saw the pool. Here’s my room:

Many pillows! A choice of bathrobes!

It wasn’t over-the-top opulent, but there were the bathrobes, a well-stocked minibar, a basket fruit fruit, very nice toiletries and big fluffy towels. And of course there were the massages… On Friday afternoon I booked a Thai massage, on Sunday morning I had an aromatherapy oil massage. Each was done in the hotel’s spa (of course), and started with a cup of cold tea and a cold towel. The cold towel is a fantastic thing that I ran into a few times in Chiang Mai – a damp, tightly rolled and very chilled towel is presented on a tray and you unroll it and use it to wipe your face and hands. It feels AMAZING.

The cold towel. Genius.

Each massage started with a ritual where the massage therapist washed my feet. There was a brass-lined tub of warm water, and into that she crushed slices of orange and chunks of lemongrass and salt. Then she scrubbed my feet with a mixture of oil and salt and rinsed them and dried them off. Needless to say, it was very nice, though it was a bit weird having my feet washed by someone else – too much symbolism there for my tastes. (Naturally, more pictures of my feet are at Flickr. I should start a Flickr set of pictures of Pam’s feet.)

My aromatherapy massage lady, with the tub and accoutrements for foot washing.

The massage rooms were really nice – dim, cool, and nicely decorated in subdued colours and rattan and such. They had full bathrooms and showers, and closets for your clothes. The Thai massage was done dry – I wore a loose top and pants that were provided. The aromatherapy massage was oily, so they actually gave you a throw-away set of underwear! Friday’s Thai massage was sort of like therapeutic massages I’ve had in the west, except that I could tell the therapist wasn’t just using her hands – she used her elbows and her knees and her feet. And she’d grab an arm or a leg and move it around and stretch the muscles and well as massaging them. And I’m pretty sure she was using power tools when she got to my neck and shoulders because: Ouch! At the end she strongly recommended I come back for a long session just to concentrate on my neck, back and shoulders. Yeah, right. Sunday’s oil massage was much more gentle, and very thorough. Front and back, arms, legs, feet, hands, neck, shoulders, head. I was pretty well-noodled by the time it was over.

Other than the massage, I had a really excellent dinner on Friday evening. There was a brief problem with them having taken my reservation for dinner without realizing it conflicted with a wine-tasting event that had booked the whole dining room, but eventually they made up a table for me in the corner, and were excellently fawning about the whole mix-up, so that was kind of cool. And the food was worth the wait.

The final part of the luxury package was the included temple tour. I did this on Saturday morning in the hotel’s minivan with a driver who took me up the big hill outside of town to see Wat Suthep, one of Thailand’s most famous temples. On the way up we stopped at a scenic overlook, though the skies were so hazy you couldn’t see much. And of course the driver offered to take my picture, because he was worried about what Rob H might say if I didn’t get one.

Me with hazy Chiang Mai in the background.

Once we got to the top I got the luxury treatment again. When the driver dropped me at the bottom of the steps up to the temple he opened up the back of the van and gave me a cold bottle of water from a cooler full of ice (I could also have had pop or beer). And he told me to give him the receipt from my entrance fee so the hotel could reimburse it. And he waited for me while I toured around the temple at a nice leisurely pace. Nice.

The temple was pleasant enough, but my favourite part was the staircase leading up to the main entrance. Each side was decorated with glazed tiles that looked like scales and the railings undulated up and down like a dragon all the way up.

Dragon stairs!

The neatest part was how the colour of the dragon changed to yellow when you looked at it from the top down. Because of how the tiles were glazed it all looked predominantly green from the bottom and predominantly yellow from the top. Very clever.

See how clever?

Of course I also did enjoy having a look around the temple area. It’s a very popular tourist destination, especially for Thais, so there were quite a few people around, but it didn’t feel crowded or anything. What did seem crowded was the space around the outside of the temple – a sort of covered walkway that was completely crammed with lots of Buddha statues and zillions of donation boxes of every shape and size soliciting money for anything from temple upkeep to education for monks to support for the aged to sports complexes for hill tribe villages. There were so many I decided to do a complete circuit and count every one. One hundred and eighteen.

Well if they don’t need a donation, I don’t know who does.

The main stupa of the temple was being renovated (obviously, the donation boxes work) so I did get good photos of it. Though I was pleased to see that the shrouding they used to cover the scaffolding and work area was all bright, shiny gold cloth, so it blended in quite nicely.

The golden top of this stupa is quite famous, but not really shown to best advantage here.

The temple tour was nice, but perhaps the nicest part about it was that I got back to the hotel in time to have a beer, a quick dip in the pool, a longish laze reading on a poolside lounger, and a short nap before I ventured out to meet up with the Chiang Mai Saturday Hash House Harriers. But the Hash and my other adventures in Chiang Mai don’t really have anything to do with my three days of luxury living. For now let’s just remember me with my feet up poolside, muttering quiet but profound thank yous to the Winnipeg Hash House Harriers. I’ve said it before, but you guys are the best. Thanks.