Santitham Part Sorng (2)

Hello there, 'merica. I hope none of you have given up on following this here sclog due to my absence of writing over the past week. I just recently returned from a trip to south Thailand, specifically an island called Koh Tao. When in paradise, it is nigh impossible to find the time to sit down and record one's exploits and experiences, let alone find the patience to sit down in one of the excruciatingly slow Internet cafes that dot the tiny island (I have a sneaking suspicion that the proprietors of these hot-spots often pull the plug for a few minutes on their modems just to milk the customers a little more, but that's just me being cynical). And on top of that, the book that I've been keeping my long-hands in was left out in the rain, so I've lost a dozen or so pages of truly memorable shit and have to start over using just the old noggin. As for my week-long excursion south, let's just say this Gainesville boy's eyes have been opened to the many beautiful and terrible things Thailand has to offer. I know I've only just begun to describe my first days in this country, but if I keep writing at my current pace, I'll never catch up to the present where my memories are still fresh. So, I'm going to pick up where I left off on my first day in Chiang Mai, but I'll try and focus on just the pertinent observations and encounters. Sorry if it's a little scattered (that being said, scattered writing is seemingly inspired by Bill Burrough's cut-up technique. He suggested re-arranging words and images to evade rational analysis, allowing subliminal hints of the future to leak through. That's about the only thing I've learned from his writing; that and heroin's a helluva drug).

I believe I was last telling you all about my arrival to Santitham, and what a quaint little guest-house it is in a very chunky part of Chiang Mai. It's certainly an oasis amidst a bevy of slum-bitten Siamese and 7-11's. That's right, 7-11's. We've all noticed the mass-disappearance of the classic convenience store in Florida and almost every part of America, but those oddly aesthetic green, orange, and red signs are thriving like mosquitoes at fat camp over here. There's at least two to every block, and you can even find them out in the jungle or on the tiny islands that freckle the Gulf of Thailand and Andaman Sea.

After I unfolded myself from the tiny Honda hatchback Berm picked me up in and unloaded my bags, I walked through the sliding wrought-iron gate into the shady copse of trees and bamboo that sheltered Santitham's courtyard. The area was littered with construction materials: piles of tile, stacks of lumber, and power tools. These didn't mar my welcoming party, as I was fully aware that it wasn't tourist season and my friend Noland and his partner (yes, that kind of partner, and more on that later) were trying to get as much renovation done as possible before November, and the construction was the reason why I was getting such a great deal on accommodation (150 baht a night; that's like $4.50).

There are two, two-story houses within the walled compound, but there are at least three more structures being built behind these. Between the original houses is a covered patio with two finished teak wood couches that look as if they were literally pulled off the side of a tree and given legs. I envisioned many nights hangin on that patio. The buildings themselves--you know what, just look at the photos I posted earlier so I don't have to pretentiously pretend to know anything about the architecture of this place and I'll move right along.

We walked into the main house and were greeted by a large, dopey Dalmatian with a lacerated tail, and a small, Scottish looking, black and white dog. Both dogs' names, I'm told, are Spot. I bit my tongue wanting to ask what was wrong with the Dalmatian's tail, knowing there would be some mis-communication, and I was too tired for that. I was also introduced to a small, Thai woman name Neung (pro. Nyong) who would be looking after, cleaning after, and feeding me every day of my stay in Santitham, much to my dismay. She's very sweet, but she's ubiquitous in her servitude.

After some stumbled pleasantries, I took my bags to the opposite house, which I had to myself for the time being, and went up the stairs to my room. Opening the door, I said to myself,"You really don't deserve this much comfort for $5 a night." Beyond the luxurious sitting room, dining room and kitchen, my room had an extravagance all its own. It seemed out-of-place in this ramshackle part of town. There was a king-size bed with satin comforter, a large wardrobe, a desk and two night stands. It was really more than I needed or imagined enjoying. Having been traveling for over 24 hours, sleeping on greasy airport benches, and suffering serious, weed-less jet-lag, the bed looked mighty inviting. But I had promised myself that I would struggle through the day without shut-eye, so as to acclimate myself to a proper sleep schedule. I didn't want to take a nap and wake up at 11 that night, wired and raring to go. So I decided to give myself a much-needed shower and eat some food before I figured out what to do with my exhausted self.

Upon entering the bathroom, I noticed a dish-washing hose propped up next to the toilet. Without going into too much detail, let's just say,"Way to go, Thailand." It might waste a tiny bit of water, but it saves a whole lotta toilet paper. I gotta hand it to 'em. After admiring the facilities, I turned on the shower. Nothing. Not being surprised, I gave it some time, and turned to brushing my teeth. The water took a little time coming out of the sink as well, and it took a little time to lose it's brownish color, too. Luckily I had some bottled water with me. By the time I finished brushing, the shower head had started to release a small drizzle, and it was far from warm. I got in with a forced smile, telling myself I had asked for all of this and hey, at least this might kick my notoriously long-shower habit.

After washing up, I headed back to the main house for a late breakfast, it being a little past 11 in the morning at this point. I sat down in the little breakfast nook, and waited to see what Neung had prepared for me. She brought me three large bowls and a rectangular platter. In one of the bowls was an assortment of fruits; bananas, apples, large purple grapes, pineapple, mangoes, and a variety of melons. In another was a dried cereal of some sort, what looked like various grains and oats, but I didn't see any milk. The third bowl had raspberry yogurt; this was to be my staple. On the rectangular dish were two bundles of something wrapped in large green leaves of some kind and held together with toothpicks. There was also a large pot of coffee, another staple. After finishing the bowl of fruit and yogurt, and washing down some of the dried cereal with two cups of coffee, I turned my attention to the leaf packages. Neung noticed my hesitation, and promptly told me that it was sticky rice (I think she called it suysong) and that I would love it. I believed her. She was only half correct in her assumption. I eagerly opened the first bundle, because I love rice, even for breakfast, and was surprised to find that not only was the rice colored a shade of dark indigo, almost purple, but it was covered in a custard-like glob the color of---well, man-custard. I know, I'm sorry. I warmed to the challenge, thinking that, for all I knew, and that wasn't much, it tasted delicious. I've never felt more betrayed by my taste-buds than at that very moment. I figured it was only some kind of coconut-milk concoction, but who the fuck was I to know. The rice itself was sweet and tasted fine, but there was no way I could swallow any more of that coconut-custard shit without losing the rest of my breakfast. Luckily, Neung left the room for a second, giving me time to run over to the trash can and camouflage what I couldn't finish.

Shit, look at me go; doing exactly what I promised I wouldn't do. I just wrote 7 lengthy paragraphs about a period of 30 minutes. Well, I'm gonna go grab a Leo (my beer of choice in Thailand) and lube the mind a little. I know you're thinking that I'll never get to the good shit, the juicy shit, of which there is plenty. But I promise I'm working on it, so bear with me. If you are still with me, that is. Coming up next: my first solo venture into the streets, a Thai massage from Turd, the fucking mall, and finally sleep.