Running Riot in Bangkok

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I spent a day visiting magnificent Wots (temples), stumbling upon a fantastic Chinese festival where men dressed like Tigers were doing somersaults around three-person-high dragons. Bangkok was far more “first world” than I imagined it would be. Besides the pollution, which was severe, the streets were relatively clean, the cars new, the shops modern. The Grand Palace was spectacular, with its gold-plated enormous temples and colorfully painted demons. A giant, standing Buddha seemed to look straight at me, and the spiral walk to the top of the Golden Mountain, another temple, afforded a great view of the whole city. That night we went to check out some kickboxing but discovered an outrageous tourist scam instead, so gave it a miss. On the way back, we accidentally held up the Royal motorcade, which consisted of eight cars in front, the King’s limo, and eight cars plus a truck of soldiers in the back. I waved and someone from the limo waved back. Although Thailand is a constitutional monarchy based on Britain, the Royal family is enormously popular and insulting the king is punishable by jail. Thai people are famously friendly yet I am finding an underlying edge that comes with too much tourism. It ribs me every time I hear a server or receptionist say “bahhhhht”, nasally, as if it’s all about the money. Something not right, but I can’t identify it just yet. On the last night, we explored the enormous Pratunam market, a labyrinth of stalls and shops selling real and knock-off designer brands fresh from the sweatshops of Asia. The prices were staggeringly cheap, a true shopper’s paradise, if you’re OK with child labour. All the hustle, all the bustle, more and more backpackers arriving by the planeload, I had spent four nights in Khao San Road and was eager to get the hell out of it. Minesh and I planned a loose itinerary that would take us to Northern Thailand, into Laos, Cambodia and back into Bangkok before going south to the famous beaches. A night train later, we arrived in Chiang Mai just in time to watch the city burning itself down.

Fortune smiled upon me to arrive in Chiang Mai for the festival of Loy Krathong. Thailand’s second city, far more relaxed than Bangkok, comes out for parades, fireworks and events, lighting floating lanterns that drift in the sky like bright stars (the flame generates heat which raises the lantern). Lanterns covered the night, coasting towards a bright full moon. Once again, the magic of travel set my goosebumps on fire. The party would last all week, with cherry bombs and homemade fireworks being set off right through the night, and inches from my head. Street markets were jammed with traditional fare, including fried grasshoppers, worms and waterbugs. The light reflected against Chiang Mai’s hundreds of temples, and there was no doubting the high spirits the festival left with the locals. I liberated some catfish into the river, set off a lantern (which almost burnt down a thatch hut before finally taking off into the sky), and picked up some new friends, and a cold (don’t mention Bird Flu). Suddenly, there appears so much to do in so little time.

Bow Chiang Mai House
Chiang Mai, Thailand

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