Yes, it’s true: thanks to our outside-his-mind Jamaican orator, I’ve had Radiohead running through my brain for a second consecutive day.

As promised, I determined to make a second assault upon the Tribal Museum — even if it meant the putting on of shoes. Decided to take the other side of the street north of the “Superhighway” this time. While this meant that traffic would be at my back, it turned out to be much easier, as there’s a nice wide motorcycle/bicycle lane over there, and also a decent shoulder.

So, it worked out fairly well. Started getting nervous, however, when I passed a road with many signs, all in Thai, with arrows pointing in its direction. It seemed as though it was about the place where I ought to be turning, but I decided to keep forging ahead. Asked many local street vendors where was the Tribal Museum, none of whom seemed to have had the faintest idea what in Hell I was on about.

Finally, as I was contemplating visiting the Money And Textile Museum instead, about twenny yards past the last vendor, was a sign pointing to the Tribal Museum! The dirt road led past the Shooting Club, and then forked off. I took the right-ward fork, and ended up down at the horse-riding club, dead-ended and nowhere. But fate stepped in in the form a little trail back over to the other fork, which ran around a lake (as the map I’d seen online said it ought), so I gave it a whirl.

Wasn’t looking too promisingly for a time, but there was one pretty big, nice-looking building which I hoped might deliver the paydirt. At the turn-off to this building, a sign appeared confirming my hopes. My heart soared with elation as I approached the gate. But then…

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I cried aloud. Trying not to panic, I devised a plan whereby I’d sit and have lunch, hoping that it’d be open by the time I’d finished. (It was then 10:30 in the AM.)

While I was eating, some dudes came by with a water delivery, which raised my hopes that there would indeed be museumage to be had on this day. But the gentleman who came out with them to close the gate, as they departed, then stopped over to chat with me. He accepted one of my tangerines, but could not give me any information (at least not that I could understand) concerning the Museum’s hours. (The guidebook had said Monday – Friday from 9:00 in the AM until 5:00 in the PM.)

Seeing this sign made me think maybe the museum’s closed for renovations or some such-like.

So, I got out the map, and was looking it over to see what else to do on this fine day. I noted that this “Mae Rim” area, included in the map’s “Near Chiang Mai” attractions, looked like it had some kinda neat stuff there — a museum, some temples, an orchid/butterfly farm, a snake farm, a monkey “centre”, some waterfalls. And, I noticed that the access road for all of this kinda neat stuff there wasn’t so far north of the Shooting Club.

Well, shit-howdy, if the map’s to scale, why not give it a shot? Walking back out to the main road via the fork not previously taken, I done passed some cool little huts out over the lake wherein people could take their luncheon.

Back out on the main road, I kept passing many a sign pointing further on, further on young lad for Mae Rim. It eventually became apparent that the map is not to scale, nor even close. After about an hour’s walking, I passed another shooting club. Uh…uh-oh… Then, and only then, did a sign appear giving the distance to Mae Rim; namely, eight kilometres. Fuck.

Cursing all Buddhas everywhere, I bit my lip, and lowered myself to hailing a sangthaew — a pickup tricked out to use like a taxi.

I asked the driverman if he could take me to Mae Rim; which request he had trouble understanding, until he realised I’d been mispronouncing it. “Mae Reem, Mae Reem, Mae Reem,” he corrected. Yes, he could take me there. I figured I should haggle the price, but he told me to just get in.

Got me (and others) to Mae Rim safe and sound, and only charged 20 Baht (that works out to about 66.6 cents — no shit!). What? Either this son of a bitch was an angel straight from heaven, or sangthaew transport in this town is very inexpensive.

Came to the museum straight away. I guess it’s where the royal family used to live. And so the house is preserved as if there were a royal family still living there; with their bed, and their fine china and all, all set out on display. Pretty boring, really. And if you wanna know the reason it’s pretty boring, I’ll tell you: prohibition against the performing of spiritual incantations or magic.

I keep trying to explain to these fuckers: lift the prohibition against spiritual incantations or magic, and your musea will be so much the more exciting. But they never listen.

Came now to the Royal Temple which was (running out of adjectives for these goddam temples, so maybe just insert your own here). Probably the most spectacular temple yet. Not my favourite, but right up there in the top several.

And definitely the only temple (at least that I’ve seen) with a giant golden chicken.

After the temple, I tried to soldier it forward, but the map had steered me wrong (surprise surprise). I could see the road where I wanted to be, but barbed wire was preventing my attaining that road. It looked like I might have to walk all the way back down and around, past the museum and the cop-shop and everything, to the main road, and then back up again. I did get to see this strange and beautiful tree, however.

 Finally, after a bit of hunting, was able to locate a place where some good folks had laid low the barbed wire, and made a trail to the road. Okay.

Then it was about an hour’s walk to the orchid/butterfly farm, which turned out to be only orchids. They were fine; but I kinda got my fill of orchids while stationed on Hawaii The Big Island. So the orchids didn’t, like, float my boat all the way up and outta the river (so to say).

Tell me, however, that this ain’t an ass-kicker of a gazebo?

Tell me (also) when’s the last time you ever seen a statue of a microphone-holding, peace-sign-giving toad?

Another half-hour’s walk or so brought me to the “Monkey Centre”. Along the way, I passed this place.

Decided to check it out on the way back down — but then forgot all about it and returned via a different route. Fuck!

Well, at the “Monkey Centre” you could catch a “Monkey Show” for 200 Baht.  Declined. (Anyway, it probably would’ve made me  sick  to my stomach; just as the “Elephant Show” at the Bangkok Zoo had done. I mean, how would we like it if elephants put us into cages, and then bribed us into performing “tricks” for “treats”?)

Lounging in the rest area outside the Monkey Centre, a man and his python.

Very nice fellow, in point of fact. After chatting for a while, he told me the falls were about one-and-a-half kilometres more up the road. It was up, too: from here, we started getting into the foothills, and I was able to get a little uphill-climb blood-pumping action going on.

Yeah, there was a “Crocodile Show”, and a “Buffalo Camp”, and a “Tiger Camp”, and an “Insect Zoo”, and three (count ’em) snake farms, and many orchid farms. But, really, I was interested to see the Mae Sa waterfall (and its eponymous temple).

When I passed some landmarks which, according to the map, I should not have passed before reaching the falls (and plus which it seemed I’d traveled more that 1.5km since the “Monkey Centre”), I began to ask locals. Some pointed up the road, some down. But it seemed more were pointing up than down, so on I walked.

And finally arrived! Only, it’s not a waterfall, it’s like ten of them (or what). And, you gotta hike way many kilometres back into the bush to get to them. And, it’s 100 Baht to enter the park. Would really loved to have done it, but it was already getting on toward sundown, and I still had to walk all the way back down to the main road. This would make a square-up day-hike, if I’m not mistaken. If/when I return to Chiang Mai, will needs must give it a try!

So, some — most, perhaps — will say I failed in my goals to-day. Failed honourably, true, being that I actually did arrive at the desired destinations. But failed nonetheless. Can’t disagree.

But you just never know in this world. Because I did see some great scenery. Not, begging your pardon, Hawaii The Big Island great. But, still, pretty great.

Moreover, had I not trod the paths to-day I trod, I may never have witnessed this sign.

And I most certainly would never have witnessed this gentlemen; possibly the most bad-assed of gentlemen ever have I laid eyes upon (Chuck Bronson excepted — but I should guess that that goes without saying).

Made my way back down to the main road (did pass up an opportunity to visit “Tod Mork Waterfall”, which would’ve been nine kilometres, one way, out of the way…but, damn, who doesn’t want to visit a place called “Tod Mork Waterfall”!?!?), and hopped another sangthaew.

On the way back to Chiang Mai, I became obsessed with snapping photographs of motorcyclists as they passed us. This is my favourite. Sooner or later, I shall get all the rest uploaded to the Flickr page.

This sangthaew driverette was even more angelic than the first driver had been, as she charged me only 16 Baht to ride all the way back into town. Next time I’m in Chiang Mai, I’m a-gonna be all about the sangthaew, I can promise you that right now, bay-bee!

Day began at 8:30 in the AM with a Rastafarian dude who’s been here a few days bursting into the dorm with a bout of drunken ranting. Couldn’t quite make out his grievances (something to do with Social Security), but was delighted to hear his repeated mantra of, “Fuckin’ shit, mon.”

Best of all, he had “Karma Police” playing, on endless repeat, from a device hanging around his neck. Finally, the hostel staff made him turn down the music, but it didn’t stop the ranting. Best beginning to the day I’ve had here!

At the coin laundry, learned some valuable life lessons:

“Detergent will not be spreaded” is my new favourite best thing to say — wonder if they learned that from Dubya Bush? Cracks me up that they’re worried people will “destroy” their machines if they have “queries”…

After doing the laundry, I mailed off many postcards, so be checking your letter-boxes, people!

Errands out of the way, it was time to get in some more temples. Really, more? Yes, really, more! Even found one that I think is in my top three favourites. So you see, pays to keep looking at them.

Met a Bangkokite in town on holiday. He knew of Seattle: chilly weather and big old jet airliners. Told me I was crazy for having stayed in Bangkok three weeks — a common sentiment among both Thais and foreigners. But I say they’re the crazy ones, ’cause even in three weeks’ time, I feel as though I barely scratched Bangkok’s surface.

Actually, I’d kinda like to make a documentary about Lumphini Park. About the aerobics scene, of course. But also about the happy-go-lucky Soi Dogs, the watermelon-devouring crows, and the lazily wandering Monitor Lizards. About the cops patrolling the grounds on children’s bicycles. About the goofy characters thereabouts (e.g. the guy who can and will name off all fifty U.S. states, and the lady who will tell your fortune for 100 Baht). About the balletic rollerbladers rocking their amazing moves around tiny traffic cones. About the outdoor gym. About the beautiful trees. About the remarkable Sunday evening performances by the Symphony Orchestra.

Damn, I love that place. Crazy? Never!

In the afternoon, I met up with a fellow member of the 30 Bananas A Day clan (numbskull raw foodists like myself); a very nice lady from Denmark. We bought some fruit and had a meal in the park. The topic of raw food/nutrition/health came up, natch. But so did peak oil, financial armageddon, European cinema, psychic phenomena, and so forth. An enjoyable time was had by all (or, at least, me)

If you’re able to read Danish, you can see Louise’ report at her travel blog. If you’re unable to read Danish, you can see a picture of me eating a watermelon.

After which, I couldn’t resist watching more of the righteous rattan-ball players. The volleyballers were in especially top form tonight, using soccer-style bicycle-kick moves to spike the ball. One guy with a particularly good spike-kick also had a fabulous move in which he’d fake the spike and, with his back to the net, head the ball over for a sweet little drop shot. These lads were poetry in motion.

Also couldn’t resist a visit to the Night Market to see what was doing with the cooked-food sellers and eaters.

Tomorrow, my last day in Chiang Mai, I shall perhaps attempt another go at the Tribal Museum.

Yes, I did visit many temples on Saturday. Of course, there are so many more that I did not get ’round to. They’re pretty much everywhere.

I think I have now contracted an acute case of Templemania (only known cure: visa expiry). The artistry and the craftsmanship which has been put into the making of these structures, statues, and paintings is undeniably awe-inspiring.

Indeed, I did experience a moment or three — whilst alone in some temple whose name I didn’t even catch, but which is not significant enough to show up on the map — of…call it what you will…bonding with the infinite, or such-like. I can’t say that I felt “touched by god”, so much as overpowered by the utter devotion and sincerity which I felt, in that moment, had been put into the creation of this hallowed space.

So, I guess I felt something more akin to the feeling one sometimes gets experiencing music or movies than an outright spiritual connection. But, certainly, I’ve never felt this way before when witnessing any of the visual arts.

Perhaps, too, I’m coming around a bit on the temples themselves: if the putting up of donation boxes, and the selling of holy water, and food, and clothing, and souvenirs are necessary to keep the temples maintained and the monks in food and clothing, well, that’s a damned sight better than splattering advertisements everywhere!

Once again, many photographs were taken. And once again, one may learn all the details at my Flickr page. Though there are some nice images, I’m not as gaga for these photos as I am for my Chinese New Year pics. These spaces need to be experienced to be fully appreciated.

Also yesterday, visited the Thai Art And Culture Museum (at least I think that’s what it was). Fabulous! The Thai lifestyle captured mostly in what may be called two-and-a-half dimension sculpture: the scenarios created as large murals, protruding from the wall, but fully attached to the wall. If that makes sense? Unfortunately, “prohibit take photo”, so can’t show you what it’s all about.

Also unfortunately, before I’d been there very long, they began to turn the lights out. Guess they were closing up shop. I think it possible that I may have snuck in without the staff having noticed (was not my intention): I had been wondering why I was the only person in this freakin’ awesome museum?; and also had been surprised that such a freakin’ awesome museum was not charging a cover.

All templed out for the day, I set course for the market to get me some eats. Along the way, a picturesque sunset.

Stopped off in the park, having noticed some inneresting goings-on. Viz., peoples were playing the fuck out of this damned little rattan ball you can buy in the shops.

In Bangkok, I only saw people using it like juggling a soccer ball. But lookit how they get down Chiang-Mai-style! (Had forgotten that footage cannot be rotated as images can, so this will display sideways. Does not matter! It will kick your ass anyhow.)

Now, watch how the kids play volleyball with this thing! I mean, I don’t understand why they don’t rotate. I think they should rotate — but I suppose they never asked my opinion. This quibble aside, this looks like a lot of fun.

While getting my own eats, I of course had to spy on the cooked-food side of the ledger, and made witness to another master at the wok.

I must say, if it weren’t for all the god damned fucking traffic, I could really fall in love with this place. You know, people always say that when you travel outside the States, it makes you appreciate the good ol’ US of A all the more. Not that I ever really believed that.

But what I don’t really appreciate is “leaving” the good ol’ US of A for a 700-year old city in remote northern Thailand, only to find myself smack in the middle of Los Angeles. That’s an exaggeration, of course. But not sure how much of one. Makes one wonder how Thailand will make out as the oil-crash really begins to take hold over the next years?

But other than the motors, with their attendant air- and noise-pollution, this place is the tops. Especially it smells so great: there’re so many temples everywhere, and so many restaurants and food-vendors that you’re always smelling either incense or (what certainly must be) delicious food a-cookin’…or an admixture of the two.

Oh, and speaking of movies, my hostel-mates are freaking me out a bit.

A Dane in Bangkok, to whom I enthusiastically gushed over The Kingdom, knew of Von Trier, but mostly seemed familiar with his peccadillos and public melts-down rather than his movies.

Coupla Swedish girls in Bangkok were clueless about My Life As A Dog — even when I was able to relate its Swedish title. One of them thought she might have heard of it.

And a Taiwanese here in Chiang Mai, to whom I was gushing over Yi Yi, had heard neither of the film nor the dearly departed director.

Jeez! What’s next, a Japanesian never seen a Kurosawa flick?

As far as other hostel-mates, I’m getting them hooked on Sapodilla! It’s really great here in Chiang Mai, quite better that in Bangkok. I gave some to an Indian lady, and a Swiss gentleman; both were loving it.

Then there’s this crazy Russian who’s been here for weeks. He apparently won’t have any money until the first of the month, so he just stays at the hostel all the day long, surfing the Internet, sleeping, and watching American teevee shows via Russian Facebook.

He went nuts for the Sapodilla. Instantly claimed it his second favourite fruit, after the Mango. He’s not yet tried Durian, though knows that he “must” do. I told him where to buy some, and then tonight (Sunday), he was all bitching and moaning that he couldn’t find any there. He even showed me on the map where he’d looked. I think he just didn’t see the right vendor, but I showed him some other places I’ve seen them.

So, to-day, I took a walk out to the Bus Station to book my ride to the Lao frontier. Check the year printed on my ticket:

Wouldn’t have guessed. Also, check the monks’ awesome private bus-station digs.

(But on the temple grounds, they gots to use the pay-phone…)

On the way to the terminal, went by Warorot Market, the most famous Fresh Market in the city. All the guidebooks love it. But mostly they deal in flowers, meats, and spices; with some fruits and veggies thrown in almost as an afterthought. Nothing to write home about.

Made my way north from there along the river, and somehow missed the bridge to take the most direct route to the Bus Station. Well, the Buddha works in strange ways, ’cause by taking the indirect route, I seent a coupla amazing markets which I otherwise would not have.

One was a massive, sprawling Fresh Market not even on the map. Mostly outdoors, there were just blocks and blocks and blocks of vendors lining both sides of the street. Super-cool!

At one of the vendors’, there was a corn delivery in process.

Look at all that corn! How could there be so fucking much of it? The Thais are supposed to be rice-eaters; but somebody is rocking the kernels.

Also here, was privileged to witness something which I’d not seen in any other market, either here or in Bangkok. This is how they keep the flies off of the meat. (Or if that’s not what’s going on, I don’t wanna know what is.)

By the way, dude that just arrived at the hostel tonight says he ate dog kebab while in Vietnam.

Saw something else I’d not yet seen in all of Thailand: avocados! Thing is, though, I’ve read that Thai avos are not very good; indeed, that most avos for sale in Thailand have actually been imported from Burma. Don’t suppose that these had been imported; but they were a bit on the pricey side, so I didn’t indulge. Perhaps I still might.

Back on the corn tip, this vendor is trying to tell something to the masses concerning their corn for sale.

Okay, now the other thing I’d never have seen by taking the more direct route was this ka-razy-assed Street Market just on the other side of the river. It too stretched for blocks upon blocks. Mostly in one direction, but also branching off down a few side-streets.

You don’t believe the goings-on here! The vendors deal largely in either little amulets by the thousands, or in used (possibly hot?) items.

It’s almost more like a yard sale, though.  And, so much of it is totally fuckin’ retro.

I mean, what?

I mean, what???

There’re also, like, ball bearings, shock absorbers, vintage porn magazines, abacuses. Here’s one vendor busting out early-’60s Americana.

What, you want a “Wall Of Fame”?  You got it.

And this…how did this shit even get over here?

Wanna guess what was blasting out of the speakers? You don’t even need to, do you? It could be none other.

The following may as well have been sent special delivery from Mars.

And this, while essential, almost doesn’t even rate.

I ask you, what’s a crazy-arsed Street Market from Mars without a banjo-pickin’ Chinaman?

It ain’t shit, that’s what!

Also encountered this guy.

He asked me where I was headed, where my shoes were (huhn, maybe I could set the Guinness Book record for most times being asked where one’s shoes are during a 24-hour period…), where I was from. And then…

He: You know Texas.
Me: Texas???
He: Yes.
Me: Yeah…I’ve been there…

Apparently he has a friend there or something. But when he said it, it was just like a bolt from the blue.

But the day was still somewhat young; so, time for more Templeism! Much more Templeism. Does one need to see them all. No, I shouldn’t think so. Shouldn’t even think it’s possible, really.

But, while they’ve all got their similarities — the Big Gold Dude, elephants, dragons, incense, and so on — they’ve also each got their own little peculiarities, little details, to set one apart from the other. And you’re walking down the street, and there’s another one, and it’ll probably blow you away, so: go see it!

Come to find out, many are closed on Sunday. That is, the grounds are open, but the buildings are closed. It’s okay; did get to listen to the dulcimer lessons.

Sunday night, they have a “Walking Street”, where they close off the road to traffic (aw, fuck yeah!), and put up a Market. Mostly catering to hippies, but there was a pretty cool band there…

…as well as a guy spinning away at the tops he was selling.

Back down at the Chiang Mai gate Night Market was a vendor selling pink eggs (or what).

Incidentally, here’s how they do construction here (Bangkok too).

So the Pythons once sang. But, does Finland have…

…? Ha! Ha! Stupid Finnish gits have…

…in their goddam dreams. If they’re lucky.

You see, ever since I’d arrived in Bangkok…

Oh, an aside: you know that old joke where somebody asks what’s the capital of Thailand, and when you answer “Bangkok”, and then they’re holding a soup-can or whatever, and make like they’re going to smash your gonads with it? Well, I learnt to-day that Bangkok was originally called “Bang Makok”!

…I kept hearing from everybody how much they’d loved Chiang Mai. And the guidebook concurred. And so I booked my passage here. Then people still kept telling me how great it is, and I started to get nervous. Could it possibly be as great as everybody was saying?

It isn’t. Not that it’s entirely without its charms. But the city is just so damned pedestrian-unfriendly that it will be impossible for me to give it an unreserved thumbs-up. Half the city doesn’t have sidewalks at all. And where there are sidewalks, there’s usually a frickin’ moto parked on them, or some other bullshit in the way (for example…

…), and so you’ve gotta walk out into the street anyways. Which the streets are filled with homicidally maniacal motorists.

Oh, speaking of motorcycles: if Motorcycle Mamas are your thing, then Chiang Mai is your city! I don’t think I ever once noticed a girl driving one in Bangkok; but here I think the ladies outnumber the fellas. Huhn.

To-day I figured I’d walk up to the Tribal Museum, located a few miles north of the city. But the further I traveled from the city center, the more untenable grew the possibility of arriving there by foot. Eventually, I just had to forget about it and turn around.

So, I didn’t see the Tribal Museum to-day. Here’s what I did see in its stead.

Tried to escape the motor-cars down some side streets, and this dude was slowly driving it around in his truck…

…making little speeches. At first I thought that he must have been giving out some political tracts; but later decided he may have been offering some or other service.

Saw another instance of space-food unlike anything I’d observed in Bang Makok.

Saw a lady combing her hair in amongst a sea of butchered meats.

Went inside this place called “Tesco/Lotus”. Had been hearing the name a lot: “Tesco/Lotus”, “Tesco/Lotus”, “Tesco/Lotus”…seems to be on everybody’s lips. Had no idea what it even meant, until I saw the place, and so went inside. Basically, it’s like a Fred Meyer type of store. In which, there’s a video arcade called (can’t make this shit up)…

Also at Tesco/Lotus, a Buffet O’ Meat:

Spied on the map that there’s a Postal Museum here, and was able to locate same. I shan’t lie: had a really fucking enjoyable time in there.

There’s a small-but-interesting display concerning Thailand’s Postal history. (Quiz time! What was the most important vehicle in post-bag distribution in the olden days?)

And of course there was the obligatory kampoo-style weight machine.

But most of the museum’s space was to do with philatelia. And let me tell you, when it comes to stampsmanship, nobody but nobody tops the Siamese! At least, that’s my opinion.

Here, see if you don’t agree.

The contemporary stamps are very beautiful as well. So I bought an absolute poop-tonne of them, and some postcards to match. So, if you’re one of the handful of people reading this, you can surely expect to receive such in the mails. Thing is, I bought a bunch of stamps in smaller denominations, so I could have many different types. Great! But, possibly won’t leave much room for the written word.

Decided I’d also like to send a card to the hostel at which I stayed in Bangkok. This prompted an odd conversation with the hostel staff here in Chiang Mai.

Me: How much does it cost to send a postcard to Bangkok?
They: It’s free.
Me: Free???
They: Yes, you just put the stamp, and then you can mail it.
Me: But which denomination of stamp?
They: No, you can buy them at 7-Eleven, or anywhere.
Me: But for how much?
They: [?]
Me: Like: three, five, seven, twelve…?
They: Oh! [After some pondering…] Three Baht, I think.

Also at the Postal Museum was this amazing picture. Nothing to do with the Postal Service, so far as I can tell; but it’s so incredible I thought to share it anyhow (though it’s through glass, so the quality has suffered greatly).

Was walking along, and seen this pretty mellow looking dog, with his owner cracking nuts or something inside a tent. Thought it would make a cool picture, but when I squatted down to get a better angle, the dog went all apeshit, and the resulting photo makes it look like some kind of possessed muppet.

Went in the park, and this girl was feeding the pigeons. There were so many of them going for the food that it looked like a damned rugby scrum. Thought that would make a cool picture, and when I took my camera from my pocket, I got attacked by one of the pigeons! Motherfucker flew right into me, and I had to beat it off like a friggin’ Hitchcock movie (or what)!

I’m guessing that it had expected that the camera was actually some more food, and couldn’t wait for me to even let fly with it. But, jeez, the animals around here are being all weird.

Tomorrow, I think I may go visit some temples. Yeah, yeah, I know I was expressing cynicism before about the whole Buddhist apparatus. But from what I’ve seen just looking in at them, Chiang Mai’s temples seem to take a more architecturally modest approach that Bangkok’s bombastic uber-palaces. Not to say that they’re altogether without gaud; just that it seems a bit more understated.

In the meantime, if you’re in need of some “Pork Ham”, I’m your guy. (Will ship C.O.D..)

Well, Dorothy, we’re not in Bangkok anymore: there was a rooster crowing here just a bit ago — at night-time, too!

The train passage from Bangkok began as a fit-throwing hellride, as noxious fumes were entering the cabin; but if one would shut the window, the mosquitoes would be enabled to mount their collective attack. After a while, there were no fumes, and the sleeping was fine.

The route was fairly scenic at times.

At other times, not so much.

You may never guess what happened when I told the Italian gentleman seated across from me that I’m from Seattle? That’s right: he busted out with a bit of air-guitar, and informed me of the city’s thriving music scene. I’m telling you, these Europeans can’t get enough of it!

Four Indonesian students staying in my dorm tonight. Turns out they were also in Bangkok for Chinese New Year, and also brought the train to Chiang Mai. I think they were on the train previous to mine. They say that right now is the best time for Durian in Indonesia…but it’s also the rainy season there right now. Huhn, apparently news of Seattle’s recent snowstorm was in the papers in Indonesia. What a trip!

First impressions of Chiang Mai: way too much traffic! So was Bangkok, of course. But at least Bangkok had overhead pedestrian walkways, and traffic controls. And failing these, there were almost always enough pedestrians wanting to cross to be able to force their way into the street when the motorists wouldn’t respect the crosswalks. Safety in numbers and all. None of that here: this is fucking Frogger come to life!

Also, not enough public lighting, and too many smokers here. But, actually, it does some like a pretty cool place. We’ll see how it goes.

The Chiang Maiians began taking the piss for my bare feet practically from the second I stepped off the train. Had one particularly entertaining encounter walking by an open-air restaurant where one of four girls there together called me out in thickly accented English.

When I motioned that I had shoes in my pack, she asked why I was not wearing them. I pointed to my bare feet and claimed that this was the better way to go. “Better, eh?” she snorted, then asked if I’d been drinking. I couldn’t at first make out what she was asking, so she had to execute the old bottoms-up gesture. I assured her that I had not been drinking, and thanked her for her time. Her friends were just cracking up — whether at me, her, or both I’m not sure.

The hostel policy is a fun read.

And, check this: only a few hours here, I’ve already seen some kind of space-food that I never once encountered in Bangkok. Maybe it’s a type of tofu? Dunno.

Okay, and now I have a very special treat for all y’alls. It’s not every blog on the block that can claim to show you the most awesomely bitchin’ image you ever have seen in all of your born days. But this blog is claiming this very thing at this very moment, and it intends, shortly, to walk its talk.

Actually discovered this most wickedly righteous of treasures in Chinatown, on the first day of the New Year’s festivities, but I didn’t want it to get lost in the shuffle of my big long post about those adventures. Hopefully now the dust has settled a bit, you’ll be able to more fully appreciate this miracle, the most awesomely bitchin’ image you ever have seen in all of your born days.

Go ahead and take a jog around the blog to clear your head a bit, maybe crack open a frosty beverage, do some quick eye exercises, and…

BEHOLD