Monday, January 2, 2012

This Post Is Brought To You By The Letter "D," For Dramamine!


Man, I sure do love listening to Melody & Josh argue about who’s on time and who’s right. For example, having the entire trip to the airport to head to Chiang Mai province filled with the sounds of squabbling (interjected with a heavy dose of “I know, shmurr pants but I think,” and “you know I love you, but”) is only surpassed by the fact that they often burst into song at the first sign of potential victory.

Both of them are surprisingly tuneless for people who do so well with stringed instruments.

MELODY: “I’m right, I’m right, I’m always right, doo doo doo!”
JOSH: “I’m awesome, so awesome, I’m awesome, yeah!”
ME: “….”

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From the air, Bangkok is a vast, interconnected gridlock of farmland and houses. Cannals run parallel to main roads, following paths that make shallow, irregular turns together into the distance. The land sections are regular and rectangular with few exceptions. Farm rectangles are intermixed with wetlands and tightly knitted housing complexes. The roaring streets and sky-high towers are nowhere to be seen; we are too far from the bass-pumping heartlands of Khao San for such extravagance.

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We have our first meal at an authentic “looks-like-food-poisoning” restaurant, which is basically the staple of restaurants in Asia. If there’s not a 70% likelihood of seeing a rat, or a cockroach as large as a rat, you’re probably in a tourist trap. It is as delicious as always, and we spend some time playing with the bizarre plastic cage that turns out to have been designed to keep flies out of their sauces. It reminds me of that game my mother never bought for me, Mousetrap.

Fuck off flies, this is my playdoh!

There aren’t enough seats on the minibus for us to ride together, so Melo & I go first with Josh coming an hour later. I spend the first half of the ride in the back all fucked up and loopy on Dramamine, with a small boy falling asleep on me, which is kind of cute. Then I spend the second half of the drive with an old man doing the same which is a lot less cute, especially with all the coughing and the catheter. When he wasn’t sneezing, he was noring… on my shoulder. Also, please see the previous sentence for the use of the word CATHETER. Ugh. I keep trying to shove him subtly to the other side before finally giving his assistant a very desperate look. Language barrier my ass – she promptly loops a finger in his pocket and keeps him upright the rest of the journey. Not quick enough to avoid mental trauma, but at least it happened before his catheter touched me, right?
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A note to the unwary: a mini-bus is basically a van that they shove a ton of people in. It’s slightly more expensive but has air-conditioning, and lets the driver go supremely fast around terrifyingly curvy roads. It is fast, efficient, and if you have a case of constipation it is a sure-fire way of making you shit your pants in fear! PACK DRAMAMINE.

Ahem.

We arrive at Suppong, a small town in Chiang Mai province, and Josh is not there. Here is a deconstructed timeline of what happened, as best we can put together.


1:30        Meaghan and Melo depart Chiang Mai
2:30        Josh departs Chiang Mai
6:10        Meaghan and Melo arrive in Suppong, reeking of sweat, and try to find the “motortaxi” but fail as they appear to be out for dinner.
6:25        Josh arrives in Suppong, somehow sneaks by Meaghan and Melody, gets hassled by someone who wants to make Josh his pretty Caucasian princess
6:30        Meaghan and Melo go to a restaurant, are told it’s closed, then are told it’s not, and confusedly order some tea and coffee.
6:45        Josh arrives at Cavelodge with his dubious virtues intact, and wonders where the fuck Meaghan and Melody are
7:00        Meaghan and Melody drink some iced coffee and tea, and wonder where the fuck Josh is.
7:30        Meaghan decides to see if her phone works. She calls Josh. He is at the Cavelodge. Anger at self ensues.
8:00        Meaghan and Melody bargain down a random lady for a ride from 400 to 300 baht, by accident and out of genuine irritation.
8:05        Meaghan, in the bed of this random lady’s truck, realizes she has successfully bargained for the first time ever. Gives herself a mental high five, then remembers she didn’t think her cell phone worked in Asia and that they could have been at the Cavelodge an hour ago if she had. Anger at self continues to rage on.
8:30        Meaghan and Melody arrive at the Cavelodge. It is pretty great.
10:00     Melody and Josh set up the telescope while Meaghan opens a bottle of liquor with the dubious title of “S-Brandy.” It smells great. It tastes like shoe polish.
11:30     Post S-Brandy, everyone has deep and slurry discussions about God and stuff.

Notice the distinct lack of motorbike taxis.
This is where I bought the "s-brandy." I think S stands for strawberry, or maybe sucker. I don't know what the brandy stands for.

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Despite its flaws the trip here was gorgeous. The countryside was meandering tropical forests that ranged heavily in elevation and rainfall. At times it was all pine, at others lush greenery, but almost always deep and faintly feral. We passed many gorgeous viewpoints, but taking a scooter – while freeing – would have been terrifying with people like our mini-bus driver on the road. He weaved in and out of traffic like a man who has made peace with his lot in life and is now ACTIVELY TAUNTING GOD.

Bless you Dramamine.

Bless you.

Come buy some motorbikes, and listen to our captive birds!!! Strange advertising scheme.

Sunday, January 1, 2012

Colorblind to Six Foot Signs


NOTE: The ratio of silly string purchased to silly string in my hair DOES NOT ADD UP. Either we proved Newton wrong last night, or we were attacked by outside forces.  However, it turns out that shampoo and conditioner are more than sufficient to remove silly string, no matter how entrenched it is in your hair, pores, and psyche.

Josh spends most of the day in the pizza-scented lair of darkness that his hotel room turns into. Melo and I make excursions for food, T-shirts and a solution to the fact that while my bag has arrived, it turns out I packed lots of white shirts and only black bras.

Josh hiding in his temporary mancave, reading comics on his kindle.

I see my first gecko, and am a little underwhelmed.

Later, their friend John/Brett (both names are used, story currently lacking) shows up and tells us of his encounters with the Indian fortuntellers. These men line Khao San road, dressed in attire that is so traditional looking it has to be a costume instead of actual menswear, and single out gullible looking foreigners. At 5’8” and approximately 130 pounds, the Caucasian, very American JohnBrett apparently matched their search image perfectly. Despite JohnBrett’s assertions that he would NOT pay them 5000 baht they demanded for reading his fortune – or rather, for ‘figuring out’ his mother’s name, and the name of his first love(both of which he already knew) – the fortune tellers insisted on prying lots of personal details from JohnBrett and then attempting to weave together some sort of  grand reveal. When JohnBrett refused to give up the money he had specifically told them he would not give them, they chased him a bit, and then “cursed “ him. I choose to believe none of these fortune tellers approached me because they could sense that I was too clever to fall for their schtick, rather than the fact that I look like I may not actually have 5000 baht. I’ve got white tank tops to wear under my white shirts now to conceal my black bras; I could totally be the sort that carries around close to 200$ in their wallet, right?

We go to the Indian food restaurant (not affiliated). I am pleased to find a kindred spirit; just as I could not find the 12 ft tall green D&D Inn sign, Andy was somehow confused by the huge “Indian Food” and “Chilly Chills” signs into believing this shop was was a Mexican restaurant. I order palak paneer; it comes with something that may be a chilli pepper, or may be a cockroach*.

Later, a milestone: I win at pool against a boy! Melody “helps” and is aghast at my use of quotation marks in this sentence. More fundamental to our/my victory was Andy’s set of rules, which remind me of my nickname as a child – “Meaggie Makes up the Rules as She Goes Along.” For a series of mystically connected events, the next player somehow got two turns. Despite numerous attempts at clarification from Andy, I never do really discern what those events were, but I do benefit from them a great deal so I suppose I can’t complain.

Andy promising that his rules are 'legit' and that everyone in South Africa plays by them. BULLSHIT.

BUG BITES: 5

FACT: Tuk is much better than Melo at shithead.

*I am too hungry to bother checking.