Afternoon Uprising in the Park, and a Run-in with the Ratking

My second day on Siam soil I met a fellow American, walked over 15 miles, sweat half my body weight, nearly got tear-gassed, and ran into some of Thai‘s urban wildlife. Other than that, it was pretty uneventful, but only because I was already oversaturated with sensory overload. My culture coffer had been severely neglected over the past 29 years (other than a few jaunts cross-country, and abbreviated stays in ATL and Seattle, which turned out to be more distracting and detrimental than anything else), but it was busting at the seams after just one day in Chiang Mai…and all I had done was visit the mall and get a massage.

After 13 hours of strange dream-ridden slumber, I was awakened by the unmerciful sound of a miter-saw. I knew the satin sheets and plump pillows, and cheapness, of my king-size bed were too good to be true, hence the juxtaposition of comfort and construction sounds. But the last thing I wanted was to get in the habit of sleeping in, so I welcomed the wake-up call and dragged myself to the shower.

Luckily, the cold water woke me up enough to remember that the first presidential debate was about to start, so I quickly got dressed and headed over to the main house for some political banter and breakfast. I ran into one of the other guests on his way out. His name was Mike, a Californian, and he’d come to Thailand to learn Muy Thai kick-boxing, and from the looks of it, to find a little love as well. He introduced me to his Thai girlfriend, Ana, and asked if I’d like to join them for some beers later on. I told them I would if I didn’t get lost on my planned excursion that day. I then settled down to the food Neung had laid out for me, and turned on the tube to watch our boy kick some fundamental ass.

After another light breakfast of coffee, yogurt, and strange fruit, and an Obama victory, I once again headed out in search of unknown sights and smells. Still zombiefied with jet-lag, I nevertheless passed up my bicycle and a tuk-tuk for a good old-fashioned walkabout. I felt I could absorb more of the city on foot, worry less about becoming a scooter smear on the sidewalk, and I didn’t even know where to tell a tuk-tuk to take me. It wouldn’t be my first mistake that day.

Staring is not a faux pas in this country, and is practiced quite regularly. I’ve endured much of it since I’ve been here, and fortunately have grown self-consciously numb because of it. But it being only my second day, walking amidst the Thai people on their turf, taking pictures left and right, my cultural sensitivities laid bare, I never felt more alienated. It was like that dream where you show up at school naked, except that everyone is laughing in a different language.

After wandering around aimlessly through the many sois of my neighborhood, I decided to head toward the hub of the city, the Old Town with it’s crumbling walls and stagnant moat. I knew that was where most of the farang hung out, and I also wanted to check out the Night Bazaar. By the time I made it there, my clothes and backpack were soaked through with sweat. As a result, I spent the better part of the remaining afternoon scrambling from shaded café to shaded café, drinking water and occasionally gambling on a menu. Wandering around Old Town, and the rest of the city, I began to realize that a vast majority of businesses were restaurants or roadside food-stalls, internet cafes or computer stores, guesthouses or tourist information, and scooter repair shops. Tourism really is the driving force behind Thailand’s economy. I honestly don’t know what they would do without it.

Evening had begun to settle in, so I decided to head for “home”. On the way, I passed a park across the street from a mental hospital, called Old Ram Park and Old Ram Hospital respectively. Everything was “Old Something or Other” in this town. I decided to check out the park, mostly for the hell of it, but particularly because I saw a group of men playing a game I had never seen before. The game was called Takro, and it looks like a cross between soccer and basketball. The ball is made of woven rattan (palm leaves), what they use to make canes (the whipping kind), and it is kicked around a circle of players, in the middle of which is a pole about 20 feet tall with a small hoop at the top. I don’t think I need to explain it anymore; needless to say it looked hard as hell. I vowed to master it. One of the players caught me sneaking some pictures of the game, and asked me if I wanted to join, and I readily accepted the invitation. If anyone has seen my hacky-sack skills, then you probably know the outcome of my first round of Takro. A lot of sand was kicked, but I did manage to get the ball through the hoop, albeit the wrong way.

Heading out of the east end of the park for Santitham, I passed a large open area with a large shrine-like structure in the middle. A throng of people had gathered around one side it, and they were shouting about something. I kept walking, but the cacophony had captured my curiosity. I was about to pass through the gates of the park when all of a sudden the shrine exploded amidst a bevy of fireworks. I quickly got out my camera, but as I took some pictures, the shrine became completely enveloped in smoke. I soon realized that the fireworks were not the smoke’s only source, and sure enough a wall of transparent riot shields emerged from the thick cloud accompanied by nightsticks and gas-masked faces. What I had initially thought to be a joyous July 4th-like celebration in the park, soon escalated to a stampede, during which I realized I could run as fast if not faster than any Thai. I never did find out the purpose of the demonstration and firework display. Nor have I figured out the motives of the Chiang Mai police, who on their worst days are nothing but complacent. I questioned Burm later that evening about the incident, but he clammed up quicker than my escape from the park. In fact, he looked a little offended that I even asked.

All the running had made me hungry, so I stopped by a restaurant called Lek’s Corner not too far from my place, and experienced some of the spiciest soup of my life. It’s called Tom-Yum soup, and it’s fucking spicy. But amazingly delicious. After about four eye-sweating sips, I asked the waiter for a doggie bag, and he gave me an understandable laugh. Walking home from Lek’s, I was accosted by the largest rat I’ve ever seen. It came out of nowhere, and nonchalantly ambled over my foot. I’ve seen about a handful of these suckers since that night, and they are not afraid of people. No joke, these mother-humpers have turned the tables on the age-old rivalry between feline and rodent.

Like I said, an uneventful day. I’m now gonna try and upload some pics, even though it takes for fucking ever. Hope to write again soon. Oh! And by the way. Congratu-fucking-lations America! We finally got it right! I’d love to hear from some of you about your election day experience. What was it like? What were the vibes? How did the Repubs handle it? Give me some feedback. Talk to you soon.