Right-oh. Chiang Mai. Again.
Had we been in Bangkok waiting for our visas, I’d have been really pissed off after a week. But, we were hangin’ in Chiang Mai (or CM as the cool kids would have it) and it rocks, so returning wasn’t as much of a ball-ache as you might imagine. We knew the place and just slotted straight back in. Question is, what do we do in CM this time around? Wait no further, I’m about to tell ya:
Without missing a step we headed straight to Taicoon, the guest house that had served us so well previously. The owners had been incredibly nice to us during our last stay, and I particularly liked the old dude who sat in reception all day. He would give me a nod and say “Hewwo, MistaaCowboy” whenever I’d walk by. What a nice guy…
With the dodgy Pai experience behind us we were ready to hit the town and party hard. So what did we do? We went to the dentist. That’s right! It was time to leave the beaten track and venture out into the wilds of dental hygiene. It turns out that dental treatment is very cheap in
Okay, what’s next? We were hard-pressed to beat the dentist experience quite frankly, so we opted for something less extreme…a monkey show and the shooting range. Y’know, taking it easy for a change. We grabbed a couple of peds (mopeds) and rocketed out of town. After an hour of weaving between hot-headed drivers we arrived at the monkey show just in time for the next show. Andy was really excited about the prospect of seeing monkeys fool around, and I was quite geared-up too.
A monkey.
It was a short show, maybe half an hour. The monkeys played basketball, rode a bike or two, had a wee swim, climbed a tree and picked coconuts from the top; all pretty impressive stuff I suppose. But watching them do all this whilst they are paraded around on a leash doesn’t leave you feeling good about the whole thing. I was impressed when one of the monkeys (Dech I think his name is; the head honcho) successfully picked the correct number from a row of numbered boards that were face down and shuffled by my good self. I was even more impressed when I was asked to choose a number, and I got it correct! With my memory, that’s a minor miracle. I was awarded a banana for my impressive display.
Then there was the shooting range. I’ve never seen a gun before, let alone held one and pulled the trigger. I was absolutely bricking it! I didn’t want to feel like some gun-toting macho from Texas. I find guns quite repulsive most of the time, but there is something to be said about their, erm…charm, I suppose. Just holding one makes you wanna point it at the nearest person shouting “Pioww Pioww, you’s dead, mutha!”. I didn’t though. The first thing you realise about a gun is that it commands a lot of respect. Not the person holding it, but the gun itself. I can be a real nerd when it comes to gadgets and contraptions, and I was quite amazed by the ingenuity of it all (I am now pointing and laughing at myself for saying that).
Nice Shootin, Tex!
I took quite a while in choosing which gun I would be firing. I was tempted by the shotgun, and would have chosen the revolver if they’d let me wear a bandoleer and draw from the hip, but alas they didn’t. It was to be the Smith and Wesson .45 calibre. A feisty little number, that packs quite a punch. Taking my best John Wayne stance I tried hard to recall every quote from Die Hard. The trigger is incredibly light through the first 90% of the action. Then it stiffens and you squeeze slowly (no puns, please). The first shot scared the hell out of me. Squeezing the trigger so slowly, you think to yourself “C’mon, fire already!”. And then WHAM! It’s so damn loud. I had ear-mufflers on, but I was still shocked. The movies lie about the sound of a gun. It is just deafening. Not “Holy crap, what was that bang just then?”, but rather “JESUS MOTHER MARY! I can feel my brain inside my head. There’s blood on my collar. My knees don’t work”. And then you faint.
I know what you’re thinking. They’ve been shooting, watched monkeys demonstrate basic mathematics, and had their teeth whitened. Is there really anything left in the world to do? Yup. Fishing. Andy is a massive fan, but I’ve never done it before. We had a competition over who could catch the most, the biggest, and the smallest. I added the latter category thinking it would give me a chance to walk away with at least one prize. But no, Andy won ‘em all. He’s much better at fishing than I am. Just Look at the pics! He commands the rod like no other, ooer missus.
One man and his rod.
Later that week we were joined by Junia and one of her many cousins, Jeed. They stayed just around the corner from us with the intention of getting mighty drunk. And we did. Sampling some of the finest gay bars in the night bazaar we necked a few beers and slurped a coupl’a buckets until all were smiling. Andy was having a marathon battle of Jenga and Connect Four with Junia. He lost fairly comprehensively, haha! Meanwhile, Jeed and I were competing fiercely at pool. She had no chance against my hit-it-hard-enough-and-you’ll-find-a-pocket style. The rest of the night passed in routine fashion really. We found a club, drank some cocktails, and complained about the music. We found some pancakes (it was Shrove Tuesday after all) and Junia’s cousin threw-up over my bare feet…twice. We didn’t do very much the next day. Went to the cinema if I remember correctly. Curse of the Golden Flower I think. A Chinese film dubbed in Thai with English and Mandarin subtitles. It got rather tricky at times.
And that’s about it for a second stay in Chiang Mai. I had a great time. Again. Our passports returned with our
