Chiang Rai - Ladyboys, Hangovers, and Jokes About Opium

We'd initially wanted a temple day, but we've shot ourselves in the foot by not booking ahead of time. Instead, we decide to stay an extra night in Chiang Mai and arrange for a tour the following day, leaving the day open for whatever our little hearts desire.
First priority: all the food. We head toward the neighbourhood of the night market and stumble upon a little hole in the wall. There are maybe five items on the menu and they're all soup. The owner is serving all the tables as well as preparing the dishes. She has a big vat of broth and then separate containers filled with noodles, meat, and veggies. We joyfully slurp and promise each other that we will return.

From there we head to Catmosphere for a caffeine fix and some much needed kitty cuddles. The cats are bashful at first, but eventually warm to us. They're named things like Catniss, Yoda, Blue. At some point a couple of European influencers enter the cafe and I end up in their vlog. So if you come across a video of me crawling on the ground and baby-talking to some uninterested felines, know that I never signed a release. I start to feel sick, so we head back.

Instead of napping, resting, hydrating, or engaging in any act of self-care, I start slamming beer.
We have big plans to attend the "ladyboy" show at Cabaret, so I'll need to start on my buzz if I'm going to make it out that late.
On our way out and in the midst of a very loud inappropriate conversation, we round the corner and I nearly plow over the most gorgeous man I've seen in Thailand thus far. So naturally, I turn several shades of red and run away while repeatedly apologizing.

We need sustenance and there is a particularly happening food stall we want to try. We end up ordering two pork dishes: one is almost a candied pork in small cubes and the other is fried kale and pork in a zesty garlic sauce. They also serve us chilled green tea, sweetened with something I can't quite put my finger on, but the aftertaste is similar to marshmallow.

Nearly vibrating with excitement, we enter Cabaret and the place is packed. The show is everything I could have hoped for and more. The highlight is a rendition of Lady Marmalade with all the key players: Xtina, Mya, Pink, but Lil Kim is the standout star of the performance.

After an hour the show abruptly ends and everyone is out the door. Disappointment sinks in: now that we're drunk, we want to stay and socialize!
The performers also head outside and start taking photos with the attendees. All I want is one picture with my idol, Lil Kim, but all the other Moulin Rouge girls jump in and soon they're all yelling at me for money. I hand Xtina a bill, but she points to Pink and demands: "Some for her!"
Arielle is down to only coins, Xtina scoffs at the change, but Lil Kim knows money is money and gladly scoops it from Arielle's outstretched palm. I've tipped two of them but now Mya wants some. I only have big bills left, which she quickly spots and tells me she'll accept. We make it out of the mob scene with our dignity barely intact and our wallets empty.

Still hoping for one more drink, we go in search of another venue, but the market is dying down. I spot a Hard Rock Cafe sign with live music drifting from it. But when we get there, it's a crappy Red Hot Chili Peppers cover band and there are exactly three patrons watching. So we grab a large Chang from the convenience store and drink it on the walk home.

The handsome guy from earlier is hanging out in the lobby with another guy, I give them a brisk awkward greeting and continue to our room. Arielle suddenly thinks we should drink our beer by the pool. In all my naivety, I do not recognize that Arielle is trying to force me to interact with boys, so I happily agree. The two men quickly come join, the one from earlier is Casey from New York. His friend is Calvin and is from Taiwan. They are, respectively, shy and loud.
Some girl staying next door comes over and politely but sternfully tells us to shut up. Pool party is officially over. Probably for the best as it's 1 a.m. and the van for our tour is arriving in six hours. I slam water and chips before bed and hope for the best.

6:oo comes around fast. I roll over and groan at my alarm. Why? Why is it the one morning we actually have to get up early is the one and only time we're hungover? I pour boiling coffee down my gullet and thank drunk Fran for organizing all her shit before passing out.
At 6:50 they call upstairs to tell us our van has arrived. WHY? Why is the only time the van shows up early the one day I need extra time. I bring my neck pillow with the intentions of passing out in the back of the van for the duration of the three hours to Chiang Rai, but I'm in for a surprise. We're the only two people on the tour today and our tour guide insists we sit up front and chat with him. WHY??
Our guide asks if we brought passports (for the river ride through the Golden Triangle) and if we are looking forward to the opium testing part of the tour. Hmm weird, I think, I don't remember reading that part of the itinerary. Later, I will discover that he is joking, but at the time, my gullible self is like: "Well, I guess today we smoke opium."
Meanwhile, Arielle is certain we're about to get trafficked, and starts visualizing all sorts of Taken scenarios.

We stop at some hot springs for a break and I beeline for the coffee shop. I point at a picture and grunt. It looks refreshing as shit. The lady brews loose Thai tea leaves, mixes it with condensed milk, pours it over ice and tops it with foam. This is my first experience with iced Thai tea, but it will not be my last.

I sip my tea and we try to soak our feet in the mineral pool but it's scalding and Arielle falls backwards off the stump she's sitting on. I need food, fast; we head towards my all-time favourite business, 7-Eleven. All around us, tourists are boiling eggs by dipping them in mesh baskets into the bubbling springs. The combined smell of overcooked hardboiled eggs and sulphur is too much.
After an eternity, we enter the air-conditioned heaven that is 7-Eleven. What I want is a hot dog or taquito, what I see on the grill is a long grey sausage with some sort of spekking. I see another empty display case with photos of dim-sum on it. The cashier is trying to sell me the questionable sausage, I shake my head no and enquire about the lack of available dim sum. She tells me she can nuke some barbecue pork buns and I almost cry with joy.

We arrive at the White Temple and it's fucking hot and there are about a hundred thousand Chinese tourists, once again taking bizarre photos and ignoring any and all personal boundaries. Our guide shuffles us along as sweat streams down my body and I hope I don't puke. He directs us to some good photo spots and patiently takes tons of photos, he even experiments with the zoom and different angles. A real pro. The palace is really cool, but smaller than expected (as it's still under construction) so we're in and out quickly.







Next we head to Chiang Sain and explore the ancient ruins in a more relaxed environment with few to no other people around.

Finally, it's lunch time and we stop at a little wooden treehouse of a restaurant, surrounded by lush gardens where we're served coconut chicken soup, rice, spring rolls, veggies, and a spicy chicken cashew dish. It's exactly what two little hungover white girls need.

We set off for the Golden Triangle where Myanmar, Laos and Thailand meet. We take a boat tour and see an island in which Chinese investors have a 99 year lease and are building a garish hotel and casino. Hundreds of young Asian men are on the other side waiting to go through customs and boat over to the "Chinese Economic Project" (their catchy title, not mine.)

Finally, we go to the Opium Museum. It's there that I read about the harsh penalties of opium possession and finally clue in that our guides comments earlier were in jest. The museum is like most other places we've visited that day (ie full of tour groups) so we make our way through it in record time and back into the safety of our air-conditioned van. We head back to Chiang Mai with a quick stop for refreshments.
"Only one hit of opium each," our guide jokes, still stony-faced. This time we laugh although I'm still not really sure whether or not we'll be smoking opium.

Chiang Mai - Days to Never Forget

Rain hits hard against the window. We'd originally planned to navigate the train but decide instead to hire a grab and avoid getting soaked. When it comes time to call the car I open the app, but the price has suddenly gone up 200 baht. Supposedly it's now a "highly requested time." We end up just jumping in a cab and since they all refuse to metre, we agree on an overinflated price.

On the flight and Arielle and I watch Wine Country together on her phone and it's like gazing into our future. Time flies by (pun definitely intended) and soon we're stepping out into sunny Chiang Mai.

There are several awaiting airport cabs offering a flat rate into town. Our driver is a jokester, he opens the trunk and starts singing to himself, "Open the trunk, open myyy miiiiiiind"before bursting into a fit of giggles at his own hilarity.
He tells us he wants to make us smile and laugh so we'll love the people from Chiang Mai. He asks a lot of questions about Canada and tells us about the culture of the area.

We roll up to our hotel, Karou Lotus Boutique Hotel. We drop our stuff and head off to find food. It's late afternoon and all we've had to eat is one doughnut each. Arielle's sussed out a couple good food options nearby so we walk.

Crossing the highway is a chore in itself, but eventually, we get to the other side and down the street to the first restaurant. It's very much closed. We head in the opposite direction in search of the other one, cautiously crossing the six lanes of traffic once again. It is also closed, seemingly for renovations. It's a between meal time-of-day so there's no street food available and everything that is open is Western and expensive. I also have no desire to eat Mexican food in Asia.
Hot, hungry and desperate, our starved brains flounder to make a decision.
Finally we see something, it's open, cheap, and busy. That's enough for me. I smash a huge plate of pineapple fried rice and we head back in the blistering heat.
Back at the hotel, we float in the shady end of the pool, our body temperatures finally dropping, until it verges into evening and the mosquitos make their appearance.

After dousing ourselves in bug spray, we head to the Night Baazar. It's overstimulating, with bright fairy lights hung from every corner, lit-up old vehicles serving cocktails, live music, and hundreds of vendors. We explore and purchase a couple keepsakes, I'm pretty sure I've overpaid for everything, but I managed to haggle them down a little so I'm significantly satisfied. A group of stunning drag queens (or as their lovingly referred to in Thailand, Lady-Boys) covered in head-to-toe sequins and wearing elaborate headpieces are handing out flyers for their upcoming show. I happily accept one and I'm Hell-bent on attending.

The rain starts. It's gentle at first but soon it's enough to send the merchants scrambling in every direction. All around us people are running and yelling, climbing on stools to drape tarts, trying to protect their wares. Now seems like a good time to leave.
Our timing is perfect because mere minutes after we arrive to the safety of our room, the rain starts falling in buckets, then the thunder and lightning join.
We're a little concerned because the forecast is calling for more rain and tomorrow we have a date with some elephants.

It's a beautiful morning as the sun persists against the impeding clouds.
The shuttle arrives and we're the first ones on. Once we're all aboard our guide puts on a video about safety at the park and then another about the horrors of the elephant trade. I'm already crying.

Finally, we arrive at Elephant Nature Park. The gorgeous grounds are expansive, filled with all sorts of animals including dogs, cats, water buffalo, horses, and cows.
The first thing we get to do is feed them fruit. It's a bit frenzied with everyone clamouring to have their turn while also trying to get the photo and low-key fighting with another over the watermelon (apparently this particular family prefers it to bananas.) It's so incredible, holding out this bit of fruit and seeing their sweet little trunks coil around it and pop it into their on-waiting open mouths.

At one point a nice little water buffalo wanders over and waits expectantly for some fruit as well, but mostly gets ignored.

Once most of the fruit is gone, the mahot leads the family away and we continue with our guide.

We stop to meet a few of the more mild-mannered elephants and even get to touch some. Their skin is like rough reptilian leather, with short coarse hairs jutting out.

We meet another two elephants who are feeding facing each other, using their trunks to plop food into each other's mouths. One has a swollen, bandaged foot. It's so engorged that it's twice the size of her other legs. The other is blind with a tusk broken from human abuse. I'm amazed at their capacity for forming complex relationships with one another.

We pass a large enclosure with big brick pillars spaced apart and an additional barbed wire fence. Our guide tells us the males must be kept separate or they'll fight or reproduce with the females. There used to only be one wall, but the elephants were mating through the open spaces, leading to a couple surprise pregnancies. Considering females don't show during pregnancy and their gestation period is nearly two years, the influx of new calves was a big surprise to the staff.

Finally, it's time for lunch and we head to the giant vegan buffet. The food is delicious; I only make it through half the hot dishes and my plate is already overflowing. I'm stuffed, but insist on going back for spring rolls. During lunch, we walk around and read the posters with all the elephants' stories. Each one is sadder than the last: a lot have been injured by landmines and hit by cars because of illegal logging or abuse related to the tourism industry. But it seems even the females with extreme trauma, who don't like humans or other elephants, will still bond with the babies.

After lunch, we get to watch them bathing from a distance. Two youths fully submerge themselves and playfully climb on each other's backs. They remind me of children at the public pool on a hot summer day.
We watch a family as they eat corn husks, crunching down loudly with their strong teeth and wagging their tails happily like dogs.
As we pass by another pen, our guide warns us this particular elephant is a "naughty boy." He likes to pick up rocks with his trunk and chuck them at guests as soon as they look away.

After an exciting day, we drag our overheated sunburnt bodies back to the main platform and pile back into the van.
It's a long drive and we're tired so most people doze. My eyelids weigh a ton, but I hate sleeping sitting up so I promise myself a nap as soon as I can get horizontal. So naturally, when we get back to our room and lie down I'm suddenly wired and can't sit still so Arielle and I go out for dinner instead.

We get back and start going through all the media from out day, while I tenderly apply aloe vera to my now scorched skin.

Adventures in Bangkok - Palace Day

My eyes shoot open following another insane dream.
I'm wide awake and strongly suspect it may be the middle of the night.
I grope blindly for my phone until my fingers finally make contact: 5:45 a.m.
Not ideal, but better than expected.
Desperately, I try for another hour of shuteye, but quickly give up and start absentmindedly scrolling through my phone.
"Hey girl," says a tiny voice beside me. At least we're on this strange sleep cycle together.
Arielle rolls out of bed and makes us coffee. As she reads, I journal and think: it's actually nice to have this quiet morning time. I can't remember any time in my life that I was up this early.

Today is temple day and once we reach a reasonable hour, we sort through our clothing in search of something appropriate to wear to the Grand Palace.
The T-shirt I select is a little short, but if I wrap my sarong up higher it looks modest enough.
Arielle has a maxi dress, but it's thinned strapped, so she covers it with a sheer kimono.

I'm excited to try Grab, the Asian Uber-equivalent. I order the car to our location and we wait for the described vehicle. And wait. And wait. I message the driver through the app to tell him I'm here. He says he is too. He asks what street and I send him the actual address of the hotel. He tells me the address is different than the GPS location. Oops. Typical dumb foreigner.

Finally, he locates us and we scamper in apologetically. I'm pretty sure he hates us.
By the end of the ride he's smiling and laughing, especially when I misunderstand a situation and nearly dive out of the car head first into oncoming traffic. Guess my clumsy awkwardness transcends language barriers.

We look around a bit then start to make our way to the Grand Palace. We stop to admire another huge monument to the new king.
A man stops and gestures towards it, "The new king," he tells us and then launches into a conversation.
He asks if we're going to the palace and when we confirm, he quickly tells us it's closed all day for a Buddhist ceremony.
I can clearly see hundreds of tourists walking to the palace entrance and none are returning with disappointed faces.
He starts telling us about a boat tour we can do instead, he even grabs our map and draws out the tour route, all under the guide of being helpful. The price is insanely expensive.
We've both seen the old: where-you-want-to-go-is-closed-but-go-here-instead enough times. We nod politely and try to separate.
"Here, come with me," he insists. "I'll get you a good price for a tuk-tuk."
We politely thank him for his time and tell him we'll consider it later. Typical Canadians: Can't even be rude to someone scamming them.

As suspected, the palace is not closed. In fact, it's absolutely swarming with people.
We try to slip onto the grounds with the other tourists, but security grabs Arielle. Apparently her cover up is too see-through and her shoulders are too visible.
Not wanting to pay for gross rental clothes, Arielle resigns to wearing the raincoat I brought. It's not breathable and she's sweltering, but luckily we have no plans to actually tour the interior. It's overpriced and overcrowded.
We do a quick lap of the grounds, snap some photos and try to dodge the Asian tourists with no sense of personal boundaries.

We stroll to Wat Pho to see about this Reclining Buddha. Entry is more reasonably priced, so we opt to go in.
The grounds are stunning, we take it all in before entering the building that houses the Buddha.
It's phenomenal, everything is so lavish and ornate. The Buddha himself is colossal! I'm in absolute awe.
There is little time to enjoy it since navigating through the hordes of people takes all my focus.
Arielle and I ask a lady to take our photo and the moment I hand her my camera, she looks perplexed. Her expression screams: But this isn't a phone?!
She can't figure out to look through the viewfinder. She doesn't hold the shutter down long enough for it to focus. I call out directions to her, while the queue for this particular photo spot is growing and starting to resemble a mob. Stress-sweat pours down my face. She manages to get a couple that abruptly ends our photo-taking.

We wander around Wat Pho a little longer then head out for another amazing lunch: tom yum and papaya salad.
Re-energized from lunch we journey across the river in the little passenger ferry to check out the Temple of Dawn.
On the way there, the lady across from me gestures for me to take a photo with her daughter seated beside me. Experiencing a strange mix of flattery and embarrassment, I awkwardly perch next to the little girl while her mom snaps away. She shows me the picture after.
I like to imagine a random Chinese family showing their friends a slide show of their vacation: "Oh and here's a photo of a blindingly white woman, look at her translucent skin!"

The Temple of Dawn is incredible, but a bit much for my socially-anxious-self to handle. In every direction there are people taking selfies or lining up shots of their friends or asking you to take their photo. It's near impossible to take a step in any direction without an accidental photo bomb. I'm sliding toward an anxiety attack so we call it a day.

Perfect example of struggling with the zoom

We hail a cab and tell him we're going to Hotel Icon. Arielle tries to give him the address, but he insists he knows where it is. I haggle him down significantly and feel very proud of how far my skills have come in such a short time.
He drives and Arielle and I chat absentmindedly in the back, relishing the air con.
"Here we are," his voice shakes us from our revelry. "Siam Icon."
This is definitely not our hotel. And it's way too nice.
"No, no," we tell him. "Different Hotel Icon, this one." We show him the address.
"Oh no! Too far, too far!"
He decides he'll drop us at the sky train, for a slightly diminished rate, and we can go from there.
It's not up for debate, he's telling us this is what is happening.

We cram into the overcrowded train and make the journey. To add insult to injury, unbeknown to us he's taken us in the opposite direction so we have to backtrack significantly.
Our first order of business when we arrive back is taking a dip in the rooftop pool.
We head up the elevator in our bikinis while clutching a big bottle of Chang.
The housekeeper giggles uncomfortably in our direction. Faux-pas perhaps?
We ask the guy at the pool bar if it's cool for us to bring our own beer. He couldn't care less and goes back to watching a movie on his iPhone.
The water is lukewarm, but significantly cooler than the humid air; we sip beer and float.

The pool is on the edge of the building, surrounded by glass barricades, you know, so you can stay safe while enjoying the view of the city. A huge pigeon startles us, swooping low over our heads.
"Fuck off!" Arielle warns him. He swoops even lower and slams right into the glass window with a loud THUD. Arielle and I both scream at the top of our lungs. In that split-second, I have a vision of the flailing pigeon in the water and me having to save his drowning ass.
But he manages to recover and retreats to a frangipani tree; he's visibly shaken.
In all the screaming and chaos, the bartender doesn't even look up from his phone.

We're both famished and consider checking out some more food stalls, when Arielle discovers there's a Michelin Star-rated restaurant just down the street.
"Do we do it?" she asks, "Splurge for our last day in Bangkok?"
I'll never say no to good food.
It takes us a little time to locate Thai Nai Yim as it doesn't show up on Maps.me and it's tucked away in the alley of high-end mall.
When we arrive, they're completely full except for two outdoor bar seat which face a window onlooking the kitchen. It's like watching a performance: eight men in action, crammed into a tiny hallways of a kitchen while they crush spices and sautée vegetables. We order two of their signature dishes: coconut-infused chicken fried rice and spicy prawn and beans. It's all delicious and still under $12 each for a meal and a beer.

We walk back and try really, really hard to stay up until 10, but give up by 9.