{"id":3409,"date":"2012-05-25T09:05:58","date_gmt":"2012-05-25T02:05:58","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/durianapocalypse.net\/travel\/?p=3409"},"modified":"2012-05-25T21:04:46","modified_gmt":"2012-05-25T14:04:46","slug":"have-fun-on-my-behalf-sniff-sniff","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/durianapocalypse.net\/travel\/2012\/05\/25\/have-fun-on-my-behalf-sniff-sniff\/","title":{"rendered":"Have Fun On My Behalf [Sniff, Sniff]!"},"content":{"rendered":"

Wonder which is more outrageous: that it\u2019s already again time for Folklife<\/a>, or that I will this year be absent during The Only Weekend That Matters?<\/p>\n

Back in Chiang Mai now, Thursday night; after having survived yet another marathon third-class train journey. This one, from Tuesday night \u2018til Wednesday noontime, was in point of fact much less grievous than I\u2019d been fearing, as the train was surprisingly (to me) un-crowded. This meant that, while the benches were<\/em> duly uncomfortable, there was at least plenty of room to stretch out \u2013 and even, it so happened, get some sleep.<\/p>\n

Which is more that I could say for last night<\/em>, Wednesday. I\u2019d schlepped it from the train back to the guest house which I\u2019d loved so much from my previous visit here. You remember? The one at which I\u2019d dormed with the crazy Russian (not to be confused with the crazy Russian dormmie from my first visit to Vientiane); as well as the American who\u2019d eaten dog kebab in Vietnam, the drug-fueled\/Radiohead-listening Jamaican orator, the Indonesian college students who were more up recent Seattle happenings than myself, and so on.<\/p>\n

Well, so, I figured: \u201cSlow season, no need to make a reservation, right?\u201d So instead showed up cold, plop, onto their doorstep\u2026only to learn that: slow season, dorm under renovation. Ouch. As the singles were outside my budget range, I hoofed back up north to hit up this other guest house about which I\u2019d read good things.<\/p>\n

True enough, the young couple running the joint are very nice. When I arrived to check in, the gentleman was busy painting a picture; and when I came back from the Market, he was listening to Weezer. His partner, meantime, is a lover of Durian. In point of fact, her family home, in Chumphon province, has Durian trees there! Could you imagine, growing up in a house with Durian trees in the back yard? (Or even the front yard, if that\u2019s where they\u2019re located?)<\/p>\n

But at night-time, it all came to a head. The two worst annoyances to kill \u2018til dead any likelihood of my getting a good night\u2019s sleep were in full flight: ineffective mosquito-netting (though I\u2019d duct-taped all the holes I could find) and loud-as motorcycles roaring long and loud into the night. (Did I ever tell you how fucking much<\/em> I despise<\/em> motorcycles and all for which they stand?) I could tell that earplugs would be no match for this racket, so I didn\u2019t even bother. By the way, if I were to select a third-worst annoyance, it\u2019d be an aged mattress. Zing! Guest house managed to score the hat trick.<\/p>\n

This morning, I\u2019d checked out and was leaving to find another place \u2013 and did then notice a truck coming down the road releasing some manner of toxic-soup mosquito-killer cloud into the neighbourhood. Lovely. I\u2019m getting the feeling that it may be a city-wide menace for this time of year.<\/p>\n

This place I\u2019m at for tonight will definitely be quieter; keeping my fingers crossed about the mosquitoes (actually, it\u2019s the no-see-\u2018ems who\u2019re the more problematic, though somehow they\u2019re generally just lumped into the \u201cmosquito\u201d rubric). It\u2019s a bit on the pricier side for Chiang Mai (\u2018cause the less-expensive options had by the time I\u2019d arrived already been nabbed, slow season be damned) — though still less expensive than most of the rest of Thailand; and about on par with Laos and Cambodia.<\/p>\n

But, anyways, there\u2019s a three-night maximum stay here, so however one would choose to slice it, I\u2019ll soon be moving on. This is apparently the reason why the rates are so cheap in Chiang Mai: many of the guest houses expect to make it up by one\u2019s booking an expensive trekking excursion, with the guest house taking a piece of the action. And if one doesn\u2019t <\/em>do, one is sent packing after a short time\u2019s duration.<\/p>\n

Hostel-mates include a very nice\u2026oh, is there an adjectival form for Scottishwomen and Irishwomen? Would they, considered together, be called \u201cCelts\u201d? Okay, yes, looks as though that works<\/a> — although the group isn’t exclusive to Scots and Irish, so there may be a more finely hewn term which currently escapes my grasp? They attend \u201cUni\u201d together in Scotland, and are here for a rather brief holiday.<\/p>\n

Having previously visited Chiang Mai, I was able to give them a few pointers about cool shit to see. Being sporting women themselves, they were super-keen to hear of the pick-up evening takraw matches down in the park.<\/p>\n

But it was when I learnt that they\u2019ve not yet visited Bangkok that I jumped at the opportunity to recommend to them to lodge at De Talak. Ha! Maybe my vocation should be Worldwide Ambassador to De Talak hostel. I could be seated at the UN and everything<\/em>!<\/p>\n

Well, would you know it? Paid a visit to the Market down along the southern moat. Not as bustling as it\u2019d been when I\u2019d been here in January. But even so, I wasn\u2019t there thirty seconds before this spectacular photo-op presented itself. Gotta love Chiang Mai!<\/p>\n

\"sausage\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Later, however, got my bell rung about ten-thousand-fold. Visited this one Market over on Moon Mueang Rd. in order to get some cucumbers and bananas to eat while doing laundry. The vendor from whom I\u2019d purchased the bananas? They also sell:<\/p>\n

\"eggs\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Okay, first off, I think it\u2019s fairly safe to dispense with the niceties; and to here and now declare this the Greatest Sign That Has Ever Been (Or Ever Will Be) Displayed Anywhere.<\/p>\n

But having so done, one can\u2019t but admit that the sign raises many more questions than it answers. Are they, like, marinated<\/em> in horse piss? Is it brushed on? Sprayed on? Injected <\/em>into? Is it the horse piss which alkalinises the eggs; or is that a whole other shebang? And if it is <\/em>a whole other shebang, then what is the horse piss for? And, what means \u201cTHOUSANDS-Years old Eggs\u201d? The chickens\u2019 lineage can be traced directly from a thousand-year-long purebred line? Or\u2026?<\/p>\n

Thailand, man. You just never fucking know.<\/p>\n

I mean, I still say that this\u2026<\/p>\n

\"brain<\/a><\/p>\n

\u2026is the finest cultural artefact ever has humanity produced. But it\u2019s not so much the sign itself that gives it its whammy; but rather, the sign in context.<\/p>\n

After finishing the laundry, it was time to secure some Durian. Stall on Moon Mueang had some good looking Mon Thongs, but were priced fifteen Baht more to the kilo than are the Durian at the big market I wrote about before<\/a>, over by the U.S. Embassy.<\/p>\n

Thought I could, by calling to their attention the disparity, jew \u2018em down a little bit. But they held fast (it was the lady of the couple doing the hard bargaining, while the gentleman was simply occupied in carving up the purchased fruits); and I made good on my threat to make the mile-or-so walk up to the Market.<\/p>\n

Also on Moon Mueang was a Durian Truck overloaded with Kan Yaos \u2013 at 180 Baht to the Kilo! Didn\u2019t even attempt<\/em> to with them-all bargain.<\/p>\n

So at the Market, this one dude was with his motorcycle\/sidecar delivery scene gumming up the causeway pretty good. Which event afforded me the opportunity to photograph this amazingly cool lady.<\/p>\n

\"coollady1\"<\/a><\/p>\n

When I first seen that this photo\u2019d come out blurry, I went and took another.<\/p>\n

\"coollady2\"<\/a><\/p>\n

But now, looking at them both on a larger screen, I think I even prefer the former.<\/p>\n

Um, but, anyway, none of the foregoing has fuck-all to do with why I\u2019ve called you here to-day (all twenty-two of you who read this blog, that is). Which is, of course, Folklife<\/em>! The most awesomest four days of the year (in this blogger\u2019s little old opinion); and I shan\u2019t be in attendance to experience them\/it. Shall I melt? Vaporise? Simply cease to exist? Guess I\u2019ll soon enough know the answer.<\/p>\n

In the meanwhile, I invite any and all within shouting distance of the Fest to in my stead Folklife it up for all your lives\u2019 worths! Shit, if one wanted to really<\/em> pretend you were me (I shudder at the thought), one is welcomed to grab my recording gear from in amongst my shit (stored under the stairs), and have at it.<\/p>\n

The recorder was the last item jettisoned from my pack in my mad zeal to reduce-reduce-reduce its (the pack\u2019s) load. I knew when I done it that I\u2019d soon regret it, and regret it I have<\/em>, the many times over. But, life goes on (and all that crap).<\/p>\n

The rules, for those attending while pretending to be me:<\/p>\n