My last hurrah in Chiang Mai made for some excellent refreshment. Whilst my sister headed to the mouthful that is Ho Chi Minh City, I decided to head north for a few days to my favourite of places, Chiang Mai. Returning to
Sawasdee I am greeted by friendly faces as I set my bags down for three nights. Sam and Mo are excellent hosts, offering discounts to all local services and ensuring my stay is comfortable, secure and relaxing.
My plan of action is to rent a manual motorbike and teach myself. As it turns out, the Kawasaki 250cc motocross bike makes for easy riding; once I’ve finished stalling it twice in front of the rental shop owner that is. Long travelling suspension, high handle bars and great traction with stubbly tires mean I won’t be coming off easily. Kick down for first gear, then tap up for the remaining five. It’s pretty basic, indeed changing up doesn’t even require the clutch, though road-speed matching when shifting down requires some practice to stop the rear wheel fish-tailing.
A short jaunt to Wat Phra That proves for some good groundwork to biking – the windy roads and steep gradients require lots of gear changing and leaning in to the bends. Much like sight reading music, it’s an identical approach here; read ahead as much as possible. Sight-reading Chopin and I’ll need to think about the fingering of chords, peddling, rhythm and phrasing, whilst checking ahead and thinking of where to place fingers for the next notes and so forth. It’s similar when driving; look at the road ahead, check for potential hazards and obstacles, ensure you’re not being tailed too closely, get in the correct gear if the gradient calls for it; before getting to it. Why can’t the British do this – people have little to no spatial awareness and can only see three centimetres in front of them at a time. Common sense prevails here; and indeed it’s not a contradiction in terms as it is in Britain – it
is common here precisely because everyone
does have it.
To the top of the mountain and there’s not a great deal to see. I’m all templed out, but there are nonetheless some interesting pictures to be taken, once the few hundred steps have been scaled and my falang fee paid.
Realistically there are two options when travelling solo, so far as I can tell. Assuming you’re comfortable with your own company; stick to yourself and make as little eye contact as possible, shying away from fellow human beings that may offer some companionship. Otherwise, smile and look around at everyone and you’ll meet people in no time; you’ll lose count of how many in a few days. Defecting to Mike’s Burgers due to a craving for salty starch, shortly after being served I’m surrounded by three Type II British morons. Ergh, where’s the repellent? The cliché of shouting louder when not understood is embarrassingly accurate, as is their ability to act as a condescending bunch of juvenile dross to the polite and helpful waitresses. “No cheese. Yes, no CHEESE. CHEESE, NO. Don’t want it!”, one of them says. It’s as charming as watching a slow-motion hanging. *
I don’t want to open my mouth; will I be tarred with the same brush? They’ve not even learned to say hello; it’s
three words and clearly far too much for their single-digit IQs to comprehend. I hear anything under 70 is bad news for a human; technically these males should actually be
dead. They have mastered the art of breathing, however. As my food is served, I say thank you in Thai, with a Wai. I’ve gotten away with it – for all they know, I could be “some kind of foreigner”. Alas, she asks what drink I’d like and in debating whether to adorn an Irish, Northern, American or German accent, she asks again hurriedly and so I reply instinctively with my mother tongue. Damn cheap flights, cheap accommodation and friendly Thai people; they’ve made it far too easy for proletariat to travel, poisoning cultures with pretences of foreigners. There needs to be an international travel qualification system. The protest starts here.
Two days of motorbiking pass and although my Gluteus Maximus is rather sore, I now consider myself practiced and confident enough to consider a purchase in Vietnam. The feeling of freedom is tremendous, though I still prefer to use my legs and a couple of derailleurs. I’m a convert, no wonder there are so many mopeds in SE Asia; it’s cheap, quick and efficient and comes complete with free air-conditioning (at speed). I just pray that I can pick up a 250cc tourer in Vietnam for under a thousand USD.
* Charlie Brooker
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