Northern Thailand

It is 8 p.m., and we’ve run out of ideas. So I’ve decided to write. This is our fifth day in Chiang Mai (Northern Thailand). We arrived from Bangkok after a painful and uncomfortable twelve-hour bus ride.

Sitting in buses and airplanes has always been a problem for me. I never know what to do with my legs. After years of experience, I still haven’t found a good solution. Usually, I open them as wide as possible — one leg touching the other passenger’s leg and the other stretched into the central aisle. As you can imagine, this leaves me in a very awkward and defenseless position, not to mention the moments when passengers walk to and from the toilet… It is indeed very unpleasant for everyone, especially for me. Being in Thailand makes things even more complicated. If in Europe I am considered tall, here I am Gulliver and Thailand is Lilliput. But it is somehow refreshing; at least I tend to breathe the less polluted air.

We were lucky to find a wonderful guesthouse. It is called Finlay’s Cottage and is run by a middle-aged British gentleman and an extremely sympathetic Thai woman. It’s a simple two-storey house with no more than eight rooms. It has a small garden with a few palm trees that hide two small tables and twelve chairs from the burning sun. The living room, which you have to cross when entering the guesthouse, reveals the gentleman’s passion for football: an A1-sized 2010 World Cup poster displays all the matches that took place that summer in South Africa. Every result has been carefully written in; the two white outline boxes reserved for each score contain beautifully hand-drawn numbers, perfectly aligned with the typography. Only one match breaks the design: England vs. Germany. Right after the numbers 1 and 4, several irregular exclamation marks have been added! I wonder if he caught the graffiti-punk mood…

At night, the garden welcomes the visit of several distinctive animals. Geckos cover the outside wall of our room, staying close to the lamp and feeding themselves to death on mosquitoes. Small frogs pop up from the grass, hiding inside one of my shoes. Mosquitoes arrive in millions, biting every inch of Anne’s legs and leaving me in peace. I am still waiting for the snakes…

In the outskirts of our guesthouse, Chiang Mai flourishes under the winter sun. Even at 35 degrees, it is a pleasure to stroll around the city. There are no skyscrapers, and the only “shopping centres” are the traditional markets where one can find nearly everything. Yesterday, I found a tent selling the latest Apple iPhones. I asked the guy, “Are they original?” to which he replied with a mocking smile, “Imitation.” “How much for one?” “2300 Baht.” Without my asking, he placed one in my hand and said, “You can try.” After swiping my finger across the glass and noticing the endless number of apps, I didn’t bother asking again if they were “original.” Five days in the same place gives you the illusion of belonging, of knowing how and where to go. But in fact, even though I use the same path more than three times a day, I still can’t find my way from the old city to the guesthouse.

In Chiang Mai, the food is absolutely delicious. It is rather embarrassing to admit it, but I am eating five meals a day. I just can’t control my eyes when they see glass-noodle soups, seasonal fruit smoothies, vegetable curries, sticky rice with mango, ice cream, cakes, cupcakes, coconut juice, fried banana with honey, cashew nuts with everything, lassis, and so on… The list is endless and grows every single day. I must admit: edible bamboo worms are still being considered…