Hello! Me again. Unusually I’ve found myself with a spare day. I was meant to be going to a mountain at 4am this morning but the couple who were taking me phoned at 3am to say their kid was sick. As a result you get to read all about me for the next few minutes.
This morning, after the early morning call, I had a lie in until 7.30am. Determined to do something with my day I thought I’d hop on the bicycle and go for a ride up a track, into the hills. I planned to pedal out for 2 hours, turn around and then cruise downhill for an hour back. I set off out of the village and at a good pace - which considering I’m was on a 12 gear ‘mountain’ bike, a size too small for me, with a slightly wobbly back wheel and a quick release seat that likes to quick release itself - was surprisingly nippy. The pre-amble to the climb ahead was along a flat dirt track through rice fields recently harvested. I scooted along with the (now fixed) iPod blaring away in my ears and then hit the hills, where my pace dropped quite considerably. This was the same track that had taken me to the waterfall a few weeks back, so I wasn’t overly concerned. I ploughed on, soon dropping to the lowest gear and negotiating rocks and potholes with aplomb.
As I climbed higher some farm workers were quite amused/appalled to see me, red-faced and smiling, crawl past them. A few tried to make conversation but their Thai was lost on my non-fluent ears. Some encouraging shouts were heard (maybe) as I made my way in to the distance. I don’t care if they say this is cold-season, it’s bloody hot here, even at 9am in the morning. It seems to be cold-season between about 5am and 8am. By 8am the mist gets burned off by the sun, and the mercury rises. Testament to this is the fact that the farm workers prefer to sit in the shade rather than warm themselves in the sun as I pedal past them withering in the saddle.
After about 20 minutes I passed the waterfall and kept going. Some hills were just too much for the bike and me and were walked up; no shame in that though I don’t think. I was hoping that I would get a vista at some point and kept chasing the next horizon, only to find another climb ahead. A few shacks were passed – these fall in to three categories: i) a place to rest from the sun in the day; ii) a place to store the harvest; iii) a place to call home i.e. a house. Many dogs barked or simply looked at me bemused; you could almost see them thinking “what the hell is THAT?!”.
I continued on along the track that was slowly becoming more and more rutted, overgrown and rubble strewn. I was half expecting to pass a skeleton and a note scrawled in the dirt along the lines of “turn back now…”.
What did become apparent though was the extent of total deforestation up in the hills (dejunglefication?). Many of the hills have banana or papaya or rubber tree plantations up their flanks; in many cases only the last 20-30m of the hilltop is left uncultivated. Father Preecha was telling me that there used to be wild elephants here until about 20 years ago. There really isn’t anywhere for them to live now. Instead, where the plantations aren’t, you get mile after mile of grassland or near-heathland, with the odd, dead tree sticking up. A huge shame. Unless you don’t like jungle creepy-crawlies, in which case ACE! Keep pedaling! Which is exactly what I did, until finally, a crest of a hill beyond which I couldn’t see the crest of another hill or even the tops of trees. I readied myself for a grand view as I pushed the metal horse up what felt like a 1 in 2 incline. I got to the top to be greeted with a rolling landscape of further deforestation stretching out a good 20 miles. The track forked – left was overgrown, seemingly unused and would take me up a hillside; right was overgrown, seemingly unused and would take me out across the hilltops (think along the lines of going over Snake Pass or up Hartside and out to Alston, but without a road, or civilization, or even Glossop). Undoubtedly right would eventually provide me with the views I was after, but conscious that I had no water, food, means of communication, or even anyone who knew where I was, I took the option to come back another day, turned around, point the bike downhill and release the brakes.
The faces of the workers when they heard me approach were a picture. Unfortunately I couldn’t take the picture as any loss of grip on the handlebars would’ve seen me careen in to a gully, a tree, a dog or all three. But it was a bloody good ride. As a flew past them there were shouts that sounded like concerned shouts or whoops of laughter. I couldn’t distinguish or turn my head to work it out. What had taken me the best part of an hour to climb took 10 minutes to descend. Another 10 minutes and I was back at the house. I’d only been out an hour and a half all in. So now I’m trying to figure out what to do with the rest of the day. Weaving is an option…
Since the last blog two parcels have arrived carrying stuff from home (thanks mum and dad!). Mum’s provided, amongst other things, some HP sauce! The best condiment to accompany the dozen or so eggs I’m eating every week. I had intended to use it just when eggs were offered. However, Father Preecha has taken to cooking eggs for me so that I can have the HP sauce. Which means my consumptions of chicken-oysters has increased significantly. Dad has sent two books for me for Christmas, which are much welcomed! I’ve finished those that I have borrowed or brought with me, and I’m not desperate enough yet to start on the school library (see blog entry below for all the reasons why).
Ah…Christmas. It’s hard to believe it’s two weeks off. The weather is a big factor – being red hot doesn’t seem right. This week Father Preecha and the kids from the school have been carol singing! I joined them one evening, as I had nothing better to do (y’know…nowt on telly…). It was a good laugh and there was a rousing (NOT an arousing as MS Word has just suggested would fit better) rendition of Jingle Bells that I joined in with. I have two weeks off so I’m going to head to Koh Chang for Christmas itself, just to chill out and read and drink and try to source some pigs-in-blankets and talk to people whose first language is English. New Year’s looks like Pattaya… I’d normally avoid the place but my mate Graeme will be there and it’ll be good to see a good friend for New Years. For those expecting cotton things – they will be late. I need to get to a post office and sort it all out, but that means relying on someone else to get me there. But I’m thinking of you all over the festivities, and I’m sure I’ll raise a glass to everyone at Burrells (and beyond).
Last weekend I spent in Chiang Khan, with the extended family of one of the English teachers (Kae). Chiang Khan was celebrating its foundation. It calls itself ‘Ancient Chiang Khan’. At only 100 years old, and coming from a town that’s been repeatedly fucked over by the Scots over the last 500 years or so, I beg to differ. Anyhow, I arrived on Friday evening and got to know a myriad of cousins, sons, uncles, in-laws, brothers, husbands, wives, sisters, aunties, nephews, family friends and so on and so forth. I couldn’t keep track of who was who and who actually lived in the house by the end of the evening. But the end of the evening it was at about 2am and I had consumed a good quantity of Leo beer. Everyone was very keen to get to know me and practice their English. As a bonus I found out the man of the house was the police chief for the district. A handy man to know I thought (not a ‘handyman’ just to clarify, he probably couldn’t fix a leaking tap if he tried).
Saturday dawned and I was awoken far too early by a European voice. Trying to work out exactly where in Europe whilst nursing a hangover and laid in bed, probably only ten minutes after putting my head down, was not easy. In the end I gave up trying and stumbled down stairs to find a German on a scooter having loud words with the wife of the police chief. In the end the wife retreated and I was stood there, looking like death in orange Adidas trainers, listening to a German rattle on about how some other German was trying to snaffle his Thai lass and had promised her 150 Euro a week if she had their child. I could only shrug my shoulders and think “it’s not so nice being invaded by an unwelcome entity is it? HMMMMMM” but actually just did the English thing of agreeing with everything in the hope he’d just do one soon. And he did.
Breakfast was fried rice without egg. A welcome break. After breakfast me, the police chief and three lads (who I never worked out who they were but were very good at drinking) went off on a journey to see a “Big Buddha”. We travelled for about an hour and then all hopped out of the pick up. I stumbled through a village where I was the local novelty (“hello, yes I am English. I apologise for the stench of beer and whiskey”) and trekked off to a river, via some rickety bamboo handrails. When we were at the river’s edge the police chief pointed across the river and said “That is Laos”. No more than 5 metres away was another country. It’s bizarre knowing that officially you have to go 300km (roughly 250 miles) to cross the border at the nearest official checkpoint, but really you could just swim it in about two minutes. I didn’t swim it.
We went off to the “Big Buddha” that overlooked Laos from Thailand, kind of like a big “FUCK YOU LAOS LOOK AT OUR BUDDHA” thing. I made small conversation with the head of the local village – he spoke English a bit and I spoke Thai a very little bit. It was pretty cool though driving back through the villages. It’s clear that you can build a big house quite cheaply out here. I think I’ll start saving now.
We arrived back at Chiang Khan at about 1pm and I decided to take a “disco nap” before it all went “Pete Tong” (i.e. an afternoon nap before I got too tired to hold a conversation – Daniel Kitson ™). At 3pm I awoke a bit befuddled and stumbled downstairs for the second time in the day. What soon unfolded was that I was to become what felt like an extra in an episode of CHiPS.
Police chief man was there and soon enough about 10 other rozzers pulled up on their bikes, ahead of the carnival parade for the grand celebration of Chiang Khan’s Ancient-ness. Obviously they were here to discuss crowd control techniques, public disorder prevention and how to minimize the occurrence of pick-pocketing from hapless foreigner’s pockets. In some wonderful dream world this would be the case. In fact, these armed policemen, decided to drink whiskey and discuss the finer merits of each other’s English. This went on for about two hours. Then they went to work.
Rodney King run for your life.
I went to enjoy the parade safe in the knowledge that ANYTHING I did would be mitigated by the fact I was stopping with the police chief. In the end I went wild and drank one can of beer. But thoroughly enjoyed the parade. Pictures and video to follow.
I was being taken around the parade by the son of the police chief. I couldn’t quite work out why he wasn’t boozing, safe in the knowledge he could booze until he could walk no more, without consequence. We eventually started drinking at about midnight after blagging a lift around the town in the back of his mate’s pick-up. At about 3am we rocked up on someone’s porch, sat crossed-legged and started drinking more. The level of English was good and I managed to make conversation with a few of the girls there (this is a common theme…many of the girls can speak English very well, the boys less so…I wasn’t targeting the lasses. Honest). After an hour of making my knees numb we headed home; only to be repelled by the brother of Kae who suggested we go to the market to eat noodles. At 4am. Sure enough we trotted off to the market and here was the hustle and bustle of Chiang Khan.
I ate some pork “stuff” with noodles. Breaking a rule I had made myself even only in the last blog, I did ask – it was as I had expected the insides of pork (offal) . Surprisingly tasty at that time of morning. It must have been freshly slaughtered to its death. Eventually we headed home and after another round or two of whiskeys I ventured to bed.
In essence that was my weekend. Chiang Khan is pretty cool in itself. Quite old buildings and a very bohemian feel about it in the main street or two. You could see it taking off to something quite alternative if it had the desire.
IS THIS MY LONGEST BLOG?
Last week saw the start of the school sports competition. I am RED colour and was immediately put in charge of the Red’s football team. The games that are played are: football; volleyball; takraw (please look this up in the UK, it’s a fantastic game); petanque (?!); and table tennis.
As seems to be the way in Thailand, all my lessons got cancelled without warning so that sports could take place. Now I’m all for less work; but only providing it’s less work with warning that means I don’t prepare for two weeks of lessons only to see those two weeks obliterated by public holidays to celebrate the King’s birthday, Father’s Day or whatever the fuck else they decide to celebrate here. Plus sports.
Anyway I joined the Red team’s football game as they were 7-1 down approaching half-time… we had a team of chancers and first years. They had two lads who play for the local semi-pros, plus 3 others that dwarfed our boys. Surely there was only one possible result as I made an inspired substitution; bringing off some first year lad who had been kicked around the park, and bringing me on (32 years of age, a gut to put most beer drinkers to shame, and as any of the Leeds lads will testify, a complete inability to put a ball anywhere near a net).
We lost 13-3 in the end; but I scored a fucking beauty.
That’s a good enough result for me. 6-2 is the second half is better than 7-1 in the first isn’t it?
OK that’s it. It’s a school night and I’ve had enough. This has been written over the course of a whole day which may explain the variations in terms of time references etc. But I’m sure you aren’t all that picky. Since starting today’s update I have also experienced a new foodstuff – raw beef with herbs and spices. I’m off to the bog now.
TUNE OF THE MONTH
Acid Life – Nacho Lovers
SECOND TUNE OF THE MONTH
Get Innocuous! – LCD Soundsystem
THIRD TUNE OF THE MONTH
The incessant sound of mosquitoes after I have put my 'repellent' on. Or 'agitator' as I prefer to call it.
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