Thailand #3

Part 2

For Part 1 click here

The rest of our time in Chiang Mai included much eating, exploring, and of course the elephant sanctuary.

The sanctuary was a whole day event. We got picked up at our cabin, in a van with a dozen other people, mostly young tourists from Europe.  We were driven an hour and a half up steep, narrow winding roads to the sanctuary. We all got out and the main guy--'Big Sexy,' a short, slim 40-year-old Thai man who knew how to make tourists laugh--gave us the spiel on the elephants and the sanctuary. We'd met up with other groups and there were a few dozen of us now.

Then we were all given cloth bags of sugar cane and we mingled with the elephants, feeding them. It was fairly surreal. Their gray, dirty skin felt rough and hard, almost like rugged tree bark. Their trunks were long and effective. The ends of the trunks consisted of a snout and water dripped out. They snatched the sugar cane sticks right out of your hand, greedy and hungry. (They eat an incredible amount.)

Next there was a shower-washing session in the river nearby. Britney joined in; I stayed back and took pictures. They all used buckets to drench the elephants. The dirt and grime fell away. Following this we were all fed pad Thai and generous servings of fruit. Delicious.

Once we left the sanctuary we again drove for a while and then did a little brief mellow nature hike up to the highest point in Thailand (Doi Inthanon, 8,415 feet). Then we were driven to two gorgeous Buddhist temples which sat up on hills led to by steep, twisting concrete steps. Below was a coffee shop. We'd meet back below at 3:10. Britney and I climbed the stairs around the side to the hill covered in myriad plants and flowers. Many tourists abounded. The temple was stunning. A giant white Buddha statue stood inside one. We walked around beyond and behind the temple catching profound views of the distant blue mountains. I felt peaceful and cal

m.

When we got back into the van we were told we were next doing a hike. At first I thought Big Sexy was kidding; he was not. So we drove some more and arrived at a trail. We had two local hill tribespeople--one woman, one man--leading us. The hike was lovely. It lasted about an hour and a half or so, pushing through thick jungle, above dry rice fields, along a rabid rushing river, and by poisonous viper snakes and gigantic yellow-bellied spiders. At the end we arrived at a little gift shop and the brewing factory where they make local coffee. We drank tea and coffee and listened to a speech about the coffee industry in the area and went to the gift shop.

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Finally, after the hike we headed home. An hour and a half drive.

By the time we were dropped off at our secluded rural cabin we were exhausted. It was dark. We had a taxi coming for us at 5am the next morning for the ride to the airport; we had a one hour plane ride from Chiang Mai back to Bangkok, and then from there we'd catch a ride via a private driver six hours south to the island of Ko Chang, an island way south, technically still in Thailand but more or less off the coast of Cambodia. We were headed to Lisca Beach, in the way southwestern corner of the island.

The taxi at 5am the next morning was another Tuk-Tuk. It was still dark out and actually cold enough for jackets. We bumped along on the truck benches in the dark, the dirt road unfurling behind us, barely awake. The airport was easy and the flight went by so fast it seemed unreal.

Then we met our driver.

This guy--thirties, thick, ex soldier and boxer--was the Hunter S. Thompson of Thailand. I shit you not. The only thing missing was the cigar, a bag of blow and a gun. He even wore shades with yellow glass.

At first he seemed normal. Talkative, though he spoke basically no English. We used his phone's audio translation and spoke back and forth to each other that way. (Mostly Britney and him.) Traffic was terrible out of Bangkok but once we got out of the city and on the highway it lightened up. Our driver laughed and had a big smile abs we talked about the basics.

It was a few hours in that he started driving like a madman on acid. Like Hunter. He'd ride someone's ass and then suddenly weave and fly around them, going into the wrong lane, facing oncoming cars and then, at the very last second, save us from doom. I was terrified. And yet, it was also sort of spellbinding; exhilarating. A blast of toxic adrenaline. Adventure. Sometimes, when Britney and I were too quiet, he'd suddenly scream out in a fast jerk of excitement, throwing his head back and howling with laughter when we startled in fear.

We stopped a few times, for gas, for food, etc. I ate a local simple meal of fried pork over rice. Yum. When we got to the ferry we drove on and parked. He stayed in the car; Britney and I walked upstairs and sat in the very front, watching the island grow bigger and bigger. It took perhaps 30 minutes to cross. Then we got back into Hunter's car and off we went.

We hoped he'd slow down now since we were driving at this point on narrow, twisting roads along cliffs above the ocean. (It reminded me both of Big Sur and Hawaii.) But we were dead wrong: He did the same thing as before: Absurd speeding (I'm pretty sure on the Highway he got us well over 100 MPH a few times), passing in the wrong lane, and almost running down walkers and tourists on electric scooters. Hilarious in a dark way...if we hadn't feared for our lives. The driver wore his yellow-glassed shades, staring straight ahead at the road. He'd earlier given us a story about how he only had $600 Baht and needed more money. (We were paying his company $5,000 Baht.)

But alas we survived the ordeal. We made it. He pulled into the stunning beach hideaway. We're doing 'glamping,' meaning a big canvas tent on the beach next to an Italian restaurant run by a friendly Italian man and his Thai wife who live half the year in Tuscany, half here. The beach was gorgeous. We paid Hunter and tipped him well (mainly for not killing us). We met with the manager, dropped our stuff into the tent, talked for a half hour, and then walked the 100 feet to the restaurant.

Delicious: pizza, caprese salad, tea for me and four small margaritas for Britney. The ocean is right there, in front of us. Kids played; families walked together; young women walked along the water's edge. It was incredibly low tide. The sun, half blunted by clouds, shone down brilliantly on the water creating myriad colors. It was truly magical.

As we ate we observed; people-watched. Annoyed at two smokers in front of us sitting in chaise lounges on the beach 20 feet away, we moved to another table. A German-sounding man in his late fifties, early sixties who sat at a table near us scoffed when we said we were moving tables because of the smoke; he said he himself was going to smoke and what of it?

We moved tables sitting literally on the beach. We watched the sunset and the colors miraged on the low tide. It was delightful. A British woman had sat down on the chaise lounge which had just been vacated by the aforementioned smokers. She chatted on her phone. Ordered Earl Grey tea in a silver pot.

We were talking about how delicious the pizza was when we heard the German Man's voice. We looked over and saw him approaching the woman on the beach. He offered her a slice of pizza and asked her if she was alone. He literally said, 'Are you alone?' She took the pizza, hesitated, and said yes, she was alone, but then seemed to retrace her steps and say she was staying with a male friend down the way. They chatted for a few minutes. He asked her to join him at his table; she politely declined.

We were chatting about the guy being creepy five minutes later when we heard his voice again. He'd lost the shirt this time, exposing his slim, gut-bulging old body. He gave her a second slice of pizza and then, a second time, said, 'So you're alone?' She repeated what she'd said before and added that she was leaving tomorrow for India. They briefly chatted and he walked away.

A little while later he approached the woman a third time. He gave her his last slice. They talked. And then, to our mutual horror, he approached US!

Like that certain 'type' of European we've all met, he waltzed right on over to us, started talking, absentmindedly snatched a nearby chair, and plopped down at our table. Just like that, as if we'd all been friends. I felt my gut tighten. The smoking comment; the creepy behavior with the woman. Now this. Everything said: Asshole. A few times over the years I'd dealt with men like this. A couple times I'd been rude, asking them to leave.

This guy was interesting. Turned out he was Kurdish, but lived in Istanbul; not German. He had a wife who was doing a ten-day silent meditation retreat in Bangkok. They were traveling together. He'd been an economist, a banking CEO but had retired very recently. He smiled a lot, thick Kurdish accent. Gray hair. Turned out his tent was literally next to ours. Great. But he was leaving tomorrow at 7:30am. Thank god. Yet I have to admit: He was nice. I told him I was a writer abd he said his son was named after one of the most famous writers in Turkey. He told us of his travels. Another spiritual traveler.

Eventually I got hot and tired (the humidity is awful) and decided to go back to the tent, shower and write. The man understood and excused himself. Two minutes later he was chatting up the woman again. We laughed. What could you do?

I took a warm shower, turned on the fan inside the tent and started writing.