Final afternoon sortie

Very interesting ride to the edge of town which took me across muddy tracks with streams, purple water flowers, huts standing in flood water. I see a 16 year old girl struggling with a cart full of plastic bottles collected to recycle, it's an effort through the ruts and puddles. A Bangladeshi farmer ies me and ushers me into his muddy farm yard, full of ducks and hens and a shed which contains his prize asset...It's this he wants me to photograph. Not him, not his 10 year old son in the traditional Islamic skull cap and silk tunic. It's his fawn coloured bull. His prize. I oblige with the pic and I ascertain through gesture that he wants the picture. I use the iPad to write his phone number. His son types his name and his father's and his small friend's. quite a clash of technologies and cultures. The ol man with broken teeth standing in this primitive hovel typing on this device.

Further on I encounter youn boys herding cows across the fields, women with snacks in baskets balanced on their heads calling door to door at the water stricken houses. A stream where 2 mothers are scrubbing the laundry while their naked kids frolicking in the water. The sights go on and on, and these refugee encampments are literally a couple of minutes from the centre of town. Across the files are the golden domes of a mosque, a man with a white rice farmers hat is fishing next to his bicycle. Brooding grey clouds drift over the wall of corrugated iron shacks. It spits with rain and the call to prayer from this mosque and the one on the opposite side of this open space begins its call also. A different voice, a different tune. It's like they are in competition. Why do people bother with religion when there life is as poor of this. What does Allah fix?

I hit a paved road that in comparison is a veritable highway and head away from town, past some pools where more boys are playing with a ball in the water, and back flipping in. God knows how dirty the water must be. On the banks of a stream is a little crooked cow herder of around 70 . He calls me over and we do another cow and owner shoot!

I'm unable to go much further up the road as it is flooded, the water being around 1,5 feet deep. Traffic is passing, including bikes, some even carrying several people, but I decide to stay dry. I dismount to watch the vehicles crossing and a guy on a scooter pulls up. Around 35, white vest, gold chain, a faint tattoo on his shoulder. He has stopped to chat. He is Burmese and now lives in Finland. Married with a Burmese. His teeth are red from betel.

Back into town for a mint and pineapple smoothie. Strange how distant my life is from what I have seen. Strange how physically close it is.

 

 

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Banpruksa

This has been my home for a week, and cost £4 a night.....

 

 

 

 

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Saturday, last day in Mae sot

I have developed a routine, habits and locals. It has been nice to feel settled here. A few more engaging people to hang out with would have made it perfect.

I intend to have a slow day, which only gets going after a leisurely tea and chat with Peter..I'm keen to move him away from talking about teaching, but it's all engrossing for him....

I cycle out of town toget my Chiang Mai bus ticket, but the bus station from which it leaves does not sell tickets. At least, I am given to understand after 10 am! I'm told to buy it in town, but I have no idea where, and cycle round in circles, which involved trying to snap pictures of the cage once more. The prisoners have visitors. On my third lap of the town I come across a DHL office where I'm welcomed by a stocky smiley Burmese who runs the place and via a phone call, and delivery by motorcyclist my ticket is procured. Meanwhile and for another hour we talk. His English is quite strong. He left Burma 20 years ago and has worked in ticket agencies in Khaosan Road. He now has this company at which he tries to employ as many people as possible. All Burmese. Currently 25. We talk at length about the Burma situation. About the in-fighting between ethnic groups, the govt playing one off against the other. We are both critical of religion and monarchy. How will Thailand fare when the king passes away? This is a question the Thais will not entertain. He is the one shared pillar of unity. Perhaps because he is unique it blinds Thais to the big problems, or they put too much faith in the spirit of the king. Just like religion, with places like Thailand and especially Burma there are big temple building projects in which money, labour, time are lavished to the detriment of proper housing for the people. You cannot live in the temple. You can pray, make merit, but this is all for a next life. If there is such a thing. Jo, the DHL guy, and myself are more pragmatic. He wants to address real issues. He does so by providing a living for people. He feels lucky, but there is also a sense of guilt that he has left others behind, including his parents.

He too has an arrest story and of spending 2 nights of discomfort, heat, airlessness in the cage for which a 6000 baht release fee was required. The only food and drink you have is the stuff you bring with you. He talks about being shipped around by the police in a cattle truck, covered with onion sacks. The Thai police do not speak Burmese. They exploit this power over the Burmese and extort money in bribes. Jo has a friend who was arrested in Burma by the secret police and tortured. His crime being involved with the student freedom movement. The tactic is to scare you into passivity. He is now in Thailand.

We talk about Thailand's interest in Burma being primarily one of trade. Teak. Export of food stuffs. China has similar interests. I ask Jo about his DHL shipments. Mostly food, dried fish, from Burma.

I have an awesome lunch at a place behind the minibus station. It's all vegetarian, Burmese, unusual dishes such as mashed jack fruit, tamarind curry, many ingredients that I cannot identify. Back at the market I buy 2 kg of fruit!!

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Wadee

Wade is a Burmese restart rant opposite the golf driving range, the 25m high nets of which I can see from my window. It's a small place with three tables under a roof, a bar and an inside space, the grandmother seated at the back. It's dead when I arrive this time. A cluster of staff around the middle table texting or playing on mobiles, who come alive o me, their only customer. On the end table there is a couple of local guys chatting in a languid drunken way over a bottle of local whiskey which they drink with a lot of ice, procured by tongues from a bowl of meltwater. The staff move inside and continue online activity around a couple of laptops. Two of the girls look very similar and they come and discuss the menu with me after I have grilled it for 10 minutes. Khao soy is off no mangoes....the one who seems in charge, who I later learn is called sunni actually remembers me from 2 nights ago and even what I ordered. We discuss my options and I settle for fried suki, which is glass noodles with carrots, beans, greens and tea leaf salad. I had read about this as a famous Burmese dish. It's fermented green tea leaves, shredded, mixed with shredded onion, peanuts, roasted broad beans, crushed, some other crunchy pulse. There some chilli in it to taste, but generally Burmese food is not. Spicy. It strikes me that I have never had or seen Burmese food in uk.but Thai, yes, of course. I begin to wonder why, and I reckon it's due to the key ingredients being the dish itself, and ones that cannot be substituted. We can't get water spinach,fairy mushrooms,fresh bamboo shoots in uk, so we cannot make the little dishes I haven't here. Thai food is more about the flavours and the meat or vegetables can be substituted for what is available. Kaffir lime, galangal, lemon gras, even holy basil can be o trained in uk,so making the base of a curry is simple. The difference would be that the uk curry doesn't contain pea aubergine, wing beans etc. the food is nice, interesting. My lychee smoothie also refreshing.

While I eat the staff are all engrossed with YouTube or whatever. The thai boy who works there is wearing as amusing galaxy mini t- shirt and is some kind of expert on mobiles. A local guy arriveson a motorbike to ask for some help.

After eating Sunni comes and sits and we chat. Her family are Burmese and own the business. That is she, her sister, her grandmother, her brother.her you gets broth is the guy from Brian's class who asked me if I was short or long.... She is 32, though looks around 20.theother girl in orange is actually her niece! She tells me what is coming quite a common story of leaving Myanmar and leaving behind some family and friends. The problems of keeping in touch, with telephones and Internet not being so widely available I'm Burma, calls costing a lot too. Se has a sister now in Australia, married to him, and she has been there, but now she no longer has the one year passport, that costs and is not free to travel outside of the Mae sot region. She asks me about other Asian countries, I trellis her about the ethnic differences in Malaysia and the way Singapore is setting itself apart from Asia. By chance tiziano' s next chapter is also about this....

I go for my habitual night time saunter by bike.its Friday but town is shutting down. People now replaced by marauding packs of dogs, giving no heed to. Traffic, chasing cyclists.

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School and sauna

Today I went to peter's school, which I would never have found had Kaye, 27, a volunteer administrator not taken me there. Amidst the back streets behind the hospital, in a poor Burmese area on the due of town. The school is a concrete building with 3 teaching rooms, a library of very soiled second hand or hand me down books, each room giving onto the next, no doors. To the rear is a long area that serves as a kitchen, and where lined up are small plates of fish in sauce, the students' lunch. On entering the building I find myself in a class, and also there is a long table which seems to serve as an admin desk. His is where Kaye works. Peters class numbers 16 and the students are an even mix of 17- 21 year olds. The boys mostly wearing longyis. They converse amongst themselves in English. Peter is rather paternal in manner and the students are called in turn to stand and address the class. They seem confident, expressive and imaginative, and are not fazed by my initial presence. Brian is another post 60 year old Ozzie and has a lower level class. He is doing a rather clumsy and pointless exercise in following instructions. A drawing dictation which doesn't really go anywhere. I place my finished cup of tea on a flappy table chair top and it slides of crashing and smashing on the floor. How embarrassing, but nobody is perturbed. Peters lesson is about creative story writing, involves drama, characterisation etc. he doesn't frame it very well, and the students that I talked to wre not entirely sure what it entailed. They act these out hen he gives them a similar task for homework. There are no language aims, but the fun element is there and the students seem quite content. I spend some time with Brian's class and never have I sweated so much in a lesson, my salmon shirt is dark with perspiration.They are invitee ro ask me questions. you would expect them to ask the standard ones like : are you married? whats ypur name? but the first one was from a little boy with short hair, white shirt and purple longyi whi asks me "are you sort or long? " he is talking about height...! what a strange opening gambit...anyway i explain that or a european im not veryfall. i ask him how tall he is and he replies "5 inches"! i ask him to to stand up. obviously he means 5 feet. interesting how the burmese use feet and inches.I discuss with them where I'm from. Their world geography is unsurprisingly minuscule. They know I'm a native speaker but they are guessing I'm from Spain. They think paris is a country in the uk etc.....

 

After break I talk at length with Kaye and learn about his life here. He is studying psychology at university, but finds it tough going. Critical thinking is a challenge, so too are very new and difficult concepts. He has been here for 7 years as a refugee. Most refugees have I'd cards issued by he Thai authorities and are restricted to the Mae sot area. There are immigration road blocks. In fact I encountered one on the way in. He is able to travel all of Thailand if he wishes. He tells me more about the cage, where he was once locked up, for not having his papers with him. There is no food provided there. He bailed himself out with 6000 baht. Twice a week the detainees are transported by boat back to Burma, and many of them just keep coming back. It's like a yo yo. I learn from him about the Chinese food aid. This happens once a year. A few years ago it was so hectic that a baby died in the crush. There is also a yearly Muslim aid hand out too. I hear about the occasional antagonisms between local and Burmese workers and sporadic killings off migrant workers and hushed up burials. I tell him about my experiences in Burma and he acknowledges the inequality of the society, the self- interested power borking, the useless and corrupt police.

Brian's second class is about business and trade. He models a transaction and introduces vocabulary in the context of trading mangoes for chickens. Interesting that when role playing the kids do not have much desire to make profits.....

At lunchtime the classroom is cleared out and 2 tables positioned for the 3 teachers, Kaye and myself. There are 3 simple dishes and rice prepared for the staff by the administrators and a student. We sit and eat,the students mill around the other rooms and eat their fish.

After lunch I circulate with my bags of longans and mangosteens, and sit with a group of boys and chat about English football. They ask my views on Alex ferguson, and why Liverpool and man utd hate each other. I get a a group photo then begin to show them pics of Brighton, not conscious that I'm cutting into their next lesson!

I make a gracious farewell and depart, getting lost on the way. It was nice being in a school where nobody is feeling under pressure to learn, where the mood is so relaxed, where the students are so open and smiley. I'm not sure about the methodology nor the language content. It's all how I imagined an expat volunteer school to be. But, these students are producing English, are motivated and its a nice environment.

Cycling back I come across the end of Friday prayers at the mosque. Many cultures here, many religions! I'm now going to get out of my sweat soaked clothes, relax, then probably hit the sauna again.

On the way to the sauna I buy another half kilo of longans. The stall holder mimes to me how to eat them...as if I don't know already! I'm an experienced longan eater now!

There are already 2 guys in the sauna. One has many boils or similar all over his back. The other talks to me through the fog. He is a police officer with Chinese blood. He has two grown up kids,his wife has a banana stall. He asks me if I'm married. I hate that question actually. It's expected of me robe married at my age....anyway he says see you tomorrow as he leaves. Soon after the big guy who I saw last time arrives. The one who rocked around flapping his arms. He speaks quite good English. He is Karen, has been in Thailand 45 years and doesn't want to go back.he has a Thai wife and 2 kids. He Gets changed into his coloured sarong again and begins once more the same pacing, flapping routine. Although he has put some money in the box, I don't think he goes in the sauna.

After 5 or 6 ins and outs from the steam room, I'm done, I take some photos and wander the temple grounds. Back to base, where the mosquitoes are active this evening.

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Burma

I'm back from 5 hours in Burma and it felt like a lifetime. Being in Mae Sot feels like the height of developed civilisation. The so-called friendship bridge is reached by following a long straight highway with trucks parked up along the sides. I initially don't take the crossing and instead cruise the area under the bridge, the backside is all churned up and there is debris in the bushes from the recent 2 meter high flood waters. On the riverbank behind the concrete emabankment and behind a coil of barbed wire are a few makeshift stalls, the holders calling out to me offering their wares: Viagra, cigarettes, sectors. I'm guessing that they are in no man's land behind the wire. On dry land is a covered market with many stalls selling finely carved Buddhas and teak furniture which young lads are polishing.

At the bridge I'm approached by a dark skinned guy with a scarred swelling on his neck. Not so skinny and quite smartly dressed in a shirt and long trousers. I'm immediately suspicious that he is a fake guide, working for the government in Burma. I've read about these guys. He shows me where I can park my bike and escorts me out of Thailand and onto the bridge where Burma looms. 300m away. He tells me he meets with foreigners to practise his English. Entering Burma is swift, I pass under a gazebo where some uniformed border agents are lounging around. I'm shown a tree stump which I believed to be where I should sit, but as I move to do so they all laugh at me. I was supposed to stand on it so they could frisk me. I'm ushered into an office then another by a series of well fed smiling white uniformed immigration officers, one of which welcomes me and asks for my 500 baht, which will go straight into the governments pocket. Heis civil, and I am fawning. They take my passport as guarantee that I will return and give me a laminated card with the number 3 printed on it to redeem it. I learn later in the whole day only 8 foreigners have crossed here.

Once off the bridge I'm in the town centre. A main drag not unlike poor Thailand. With food stalls and various uniformed figures sitting around. The side streets are unpaved, muddy, under water, the houses wooden shacks on stilts. My escort is called Mike and I attempt to suss him out by pushing him to talk about the government, police, religion. I realise he is genuine. He doesn't have faith in the police, and tells me at length how they failed to get back his stolen motorbike even though he had identified the thief. He is critical of the army, the government. Laments the inequality in society, but forever remains optimistic. I ask him if he is afraid about speaking out. We sit on the polished teak floor of the pray hall at the pagoda and I wonder if anyone is overhearing our conversation. He says he is not afraid and not worried. I discover later that this is not entirely true. He deplores the medical service in Burma. His 18 month old son died recently as a result of disease caused by the flood. Later he shows me his picture. He also lost his brother in law recently too. Liver failure. Alcohol.

The pagoda is lively, kids playing and running through. Like all these poor places, it is opulent and a very stark contrast to the hovels that most people are used to. Mike takes me to his house. The roads are mud and puddles, shacks that serve as shops, barber shops, phone call centres. It's very much third world. His house is on stilts, rattan sheet walls, very thin, plastic mats on the floor, it is squalid and I feel slightly ill at ease inside. There a no chairs, no tables, no kitchen, no bathroom. There is a tv, and electricity which is hooked up from a neighbouring rich house which is kind of like an electricity hub. There are kids playing in the mud outside, chickens running around, a pig snorting in a cage. The path is sandbags. His house too was deluged by the recent flood water. He shows me a book that has passed through many many hands. An Oxfam guide to health in a place where there is no doctor. It describes among other things how to deliver a baby. He tells me malaria is a problem here and how he has had it.

His young kids arrive then disappear again, left to their own devices, at 9 and 5. no school today.

I need a pee, but am wary to ask, as there doesn't look like there is anywhere. He says he will take me to a friend's house where I can relieve myself. This turns out to be a sort of cafe...some benches, a table a fridge, some young guys, one a transsexual, I later learn, sitting around bored looking, smiling, passing an unrelenting nothingness of existence. I use the toilet, I drink some water. Mike talks a lot. He is quite repetitive and is becoming a bit boring. His English isn't so easy to follow and typically he doesn't listen or ask questions. Still I am very grateful to him. He has no job, and lives hand to mouth. He has shown me things I would not have had the courage to explore myself. Back on the road we have some betel nut rolled in a leaf, given free by the stall holder. It's bitter, crunchy, a bit aromatic, chewing it supposedly cleanses the mouth. It produces red juice, which a user spits periodically. This stuff turns your tongue red and blackens your teeth with extended use. I saw many cases of this. The people are gracious, not shy to having their photo taken. A couple of oddballs walk up to me and welcome me. One guy is wearing a pith helmet has a long beard and is carrying a plastic toy machine gun.

We take lunch near the bridge. Numerous dishes all very tasty: mushrooms, bamboo shoots, a bitter green vegetable, rice and a pile of assorted leaves.

After lunch the trouble starts that turns this stimulating trip into a confusing and bittersweet adventure. Mike takes me into a room off the Main Street, through a curtain. The room is full of young men clustered around big flat video games with multiple players. Kind of shoot up games which I think they are gambling on. My presence is noticed but nobody is perturbed...until I take a couple of overall pictures. Suddenly Mike is by me, and a tough looking guy in a pit helmet with narrow mean eyes grabs his arm and takes him up a flight of stairs at the back of the room. I sense something has gone wrong. I feel uncomfortable. I edge out of the room and stand by the doorway. One of the players invites me to join, I indicate I'm just watching. Mike appears some minutes later no longer looking relaxed. The mean guy walks with him to the door, a scene develops as this guy looks at me madly and is obviously berating me. I do the usual hands raised in submission, humilty and apology, I'm just an ignorant foreigner. Mike walks me away from the place and around the block, under the bridge. He says this guy is Karen army and that they control the betting in these places. This guy had a gun and threatened Mike because of my photographic activities. I am aware that all this has not diffused. Mike is very bothered. I'm blaming myself, when perhaps Mike is blaming himself. I then gather that his wife, who I hadn't met, is also in that place. Mike tells me he has to go and get her. I wait across the street. When he appears five minutes later he is with his wife who is hysterical and shouting and doesn't acknowledge me. Is she mad at me? I decide I should return to Thailand now. There are other people now surrounding us as she carries on shouting and Mike is in heated debate with some other sympathetic guys. Apparently the mean Karen mafia guy assaulted his wife with a chair. He hit her! Mike speaks to the police, but what can they do? He says I should do something about his situation, but what does he mean and what can I do. On the bridge he engages the police, customs, immigration officials. They listen, but don't act. None of them speak English. In the end Mike suggests that I report this. What does this entail? The guards get a blank piece of paper on which I write my name, date of birth and fathers name. Nothing will happen....pointless.......I have now seen how terrible things a in Burma. Organised crime, police are powerless, or corrupt, or turn a blind eye. The victims are the poor. The foreigner walks away back to his own better life.

Mike sees me through customs. I redeem my ticket to get back my passport. The genial customs official delightedly tells me that it is now possible to visit all of Burma. Something I know is not true. Not even the Burmese are free to travel throughout heir own country. On the bridge we exchange phone numbers. Mike had wanted me to buy a Burmese SIM card from the stall at customs. A cut price rate for foreigners. Unavailable to Burmese. The stall is closed. I give him 500 baht for his guidance and I cross back to Thailand in the strong sunlight. looking back I do not see the big slimy dog shit that I subsequently step in. Sums it all up nicely.

I feel relieved to be back in Thailand. This is a place I at least understand a little. Burma scared me.

On the way back to Mae Sot I call in at a large temple complex, Burmese style, novices playing that game like volleyball where you use a rattan ball and your feet. Workmen building a path to the reclining Buddha. The idiot sweeping up. Two monks smoking cheroots in the doorway to the mirrored Buddha hall.

I'm exhausted.

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Rainy morning

The heavy rain crashing down on the corrugated roof wakes me. I think this hasscupperedmy planned trip to the Burma frontier today. Regardless I think it would be interesting to see how mae sot carries on in the deluge.many roads are once. Again reduced to almost streams. That need fording. Strangely cycling is a better option than walking. Your feet stay dry. Life goes on, just less to-ing and fro-ing and more bright capes and brollies. I'm at the brilliantly named vegetable restaurant, which is rather jolly and lively and also quite popular. A whole team of contented workers cutting, mixing, stirring, assembling. Adjacent is a wok stall under a. Briht red and green umbrella selling corn fritters and fried banana. Ihave palate of rice and 2 half dishes, one with green beans and tofu, the other greens and tofu. It costs a meagre 25 baht.

Not sure of today's plan..but actually it doesn't matter much. If the rain eases off, then Burma is an option.

Last night I had a tranquil cycle around the back streets of the town, yet still ended up by the Chinese temple. On the outdoor theatre stage some historical opera/ play was being acting out. Formal rigid backdrops, heavily painted men in silk with shrieking voices both in song and speech, that overdubs to a live performance were most disruptive. All this accompanied by gongs and shrinks and percussion, so complex that it seemed to have no rhythm or pattern. The audience amounted o no more than 10 bemused Thais. Incomprehensible to them probably. It certainly was to me and brought on a headache!

I've changed my mind..I'm going to cycle to Burma...

 

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Slow day, herbal sauna

Lunch was at the vegetarian Chinese place I saw last night. Only Thai menu, but with pictures,and I understood enough from those plus the owners speech to grasp that he recommended laab, and that it would be good with rice. An iced herbal tea arrived and then the laab, tie and a refreshing soup flavoured with lemon grass. Laab is basically a warm salad with a predominance of mint leaves, this one also with sweet basil,and spiced crispy cubes of possibly tofu,maybe gluten, accompanied with raw vegetables: green beans and Chinese cabbage leaves. It came with tasty chewy red rice. It was very good...aroy aroy.

I spend some more time in the peace of the garden at he guesthouse reading, dozing, then chatting with peter as he returns from work.

Later in the afternoon I head for wat mani for the herbal sauna. It's not apparent where it is, yet obvious when the monk points it out. It's a shack roofed with corrugated iron in the corner of the temple compound. There is a low wall surrounding it with space to stretch etc, I guess. Some rudimentary wooden exercise benches with roughly hewn metal weights on bars...and an inclined sit up bench. Gym equipment! On the left is a counter and behind it a large man in his forties wearing a sarong swaying from one foot to the pt hand swinging and stretching his arms. I think he works here. Maybe a masseur. In the centre is a table with a donations box. 20 baht! And a water cooler. Around the edges of the space are stone benches, the floor is concrete and covered with sand and grit. The sauna itself is at the back of this space. It is a green coloured little house with 2 doorways coved by tatty curtains. The right hand one is red and I learn it I've men's entrance. The lefty and for women, and this has a kind of antechamber, probably for changing. There is no changing room. You come prepared. Past the little sauna house on the right is a metal drum with a scoop and cold water. The furnace is behind the house. It's burning freshly chopped wood, which is prepared by 2 dark skinned guys. One in Welles. I actually see him rinsing our the in nerds of these. Music is broadcast through the tinny speaker of a mobile phone balanced on the donation box. On the whole the experience is a serious and solemn one. There are more men than women coming and going. All are around my age and with some fatty deposits.one guy nets wearing a vest, the others in shorts. A one point a monk joins us removing the top part of the garments they where. The sauna room is small. 2 benched facing one another, large enough for 8 people, though the max I experienced in any one go was 5 of us. That was full enough. The walls are tiled and the ceiling is just about high enough for me to stand. The flappy now sodden curtain is a poor door and on each entrance and exit it needs to be red draped, it's weight and moistness allowing it to be stuck to the sides of the doorway. It's hot, of course. I'm wringing wet with a minute. It feels great, and the herbs are powerful, the one I pick out most clearly is lemon grass. I come and go five times, each time feeling ennervated and refreshed. It's also hot outside, but strangely cooling..it's still 28 or so degrees. It means my sweat and damp shorts dry quickly and my body cools down from the 40 degrees of the sauna. As I'm preparing to leave,ore people arrive. Locals, I guess, a lot of chit chat. Sme small kids run through. One takes a drink of water, another plays withhe curtain and is not quite sure whether to go in or not.

When I do leave its rush hour. I see kids boarding sawntaewns. I must have seen both ends of their day.this morning I watched some squashed, both standing and sitting, and over spilling onto the step, like cattle in a truck. It looked really uncomfortable. I wander he market on my bike and buy some more mangosteen. I'm eating a kilo of fruit a day. Love it.

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Mae sot, teaching and prison

I'm going to hang around here for a few days more. It's easy going,hassle free, cheap, stimulating, slow. But today I must stay put of the sun. I went for a breakfast. Time cycle around the town..it's very small, and the breaking sun felt hot on my covered but singed shoulders.

I spent last night at the guesthouse over beer chat.ing with a fellow encumbrance, peter, 65, Australian, working as a teacher for 3 month on and off stretches at a school for Burmese. I learn a lot from him, and it's quite inspiring to hear of kids (he teaches 17-19 year olds) who have real desire to learn and achieve and make something of their lives. It's an interesting contrast with the students I work with, many of whom don't recognise the fabulous opportunity their parents' money has bought them, nor havethedriveor the realisation that an education can change their lives. Petter's students are refugees, some using false names, some experiencing harrowing pasts. He told me of one boy, who he described as the happiest person he has met, a previous slave worker. This boy's work was acting as a human shield for troops crossing potentially mined land.

His school scrapes by. The staff are volunteers, getting in recompense a lunch and a bicycle. They are undermanned, and resources are ones they cobble together through material donations back home, Catholic Church money and pillaging the Internet. I can see how rewarding the work is from peter's immense pride in spite of he superhuman efforts he must put in. As he says,he is exhausted and will be going back to Australia for downtime to walk and swim. He lives in what he describes as a beautiful and natural environment.

Beyond here, I learn he is a very determined and focused person. He tells me of his walking of the camino. De Santiago de compostella. 34 days walking....physical, mental and spiritual battles, and days of crying. This is a walk that you do alone. Nobody else can walk your pace. His is a walk on which you learn about yourself. He tells me of his waking dreams and the. Battles through the near constant rain.once again, I sense him filling with pride as he tells me of this accomplishment.

I learn more about where I am through him too. The floods of several weeks ago forced him to relocate to this guesthouse.his former one being swamped with 40 cm of water, destroying clothes, the fridge floating away....

He tells me more about the precarious sitaution most of the refugees experience. The police spot check for pork permits, identity documents etc. those unfortunate to be caught out are stored in a place he ominously describes as "the cage" , near the abandoned project that is/was robe the new police station. My breakfast cycle takes in this place. And it is an apt name. Through an open gateway, so plainly visible to anyone passing, you can see a 2 storey wooden house. The ground floor is in fact the cage. Behind the bars I can see dozens of. Men and women, maybe even children. I didn't have enough time to scrutinise, as, unsurprisingly, a coupled of immigration officials waved me, not aggressively, away. I don't think they liked my camera. The conditions look pretty disgusting. How long they are kept there, I don't know. As I pass by again I see a police prison truck back into the yard, the cage unlocked and a number of brightly dressed women shaparoned into he back. Evidently to be repatriated to Burma, where their fate Is probably not a promising one. Arrest, prison..or worse. I can only watch.

Breakfast is a bag of Burmese style pakora. 2 types. The most interesting contains pungent lime leaves. My bagful are freshly cooked on the road and cost 10 baht.

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My local shop, Mae sot

The shopkeeper is hidden behind the fridge. Each time I have been there I have startled him. Last night he was watching bullfighting on tv. This time he was watching sport again but swinging dumbbells doing arm curls. We have a quick lesson in Thai and English numbers. Further down my road I get excited as a spot a restaurant labelled vegetarian. That's a priority port of call tomorrow for sure. On the same road are some fancy looking resorts, an Italian pizza restaurant, and of all things a golf driving range, floodlit. Kind of puts what I've seen today into some harsh perspective.

 

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Mae sot food project part 2

I really did get my shoulders and neck sunburnt, so I return to my guesthouse to recuperate.

I'm very keen toget back to the food project to witness what happens when the food finally is given out. As I cycle back into town I sense that they have started the distribution as I notice women in colourful dresses and small kids carrying the white sack that were stacked on the platform at the temple. The atmosphere back there has increased from hot patience to excitement, relief and joy. Groups of women, men and kids are clustered round their sacks, or are fixing them onto bikes, or balancing them on their heads and teetering home.i can sense their happiness. Their wait is over. But some are still waiting and thrusting their yellow and red tickets at the guards at the gates around the food platform. There is some marshalling system going on, people being called forward to enter on the left skirt down the side of the platform, around the front and up the right hand side where they hand over their ticket and receive with joy their sack, and exit back onto the road on he right hand side. A this gate their family are waiting anxiously. There is also a group of less fortunates without tickets, sitting in a square, rather squatting, and being carefully watched. They are hoping they will be offered the left over sacks. There is a woman calling people forward over a tangly, the Chinese dancers/ actors have removed their face paint and are watching through a grill. A of duty ain'td worker is sitting in a big hall in the door of his tent eating a bowl of rice. The aid workers are still very cautious to avoid a riot, which happened a few years ago, the marshals look tired. The lucky Burmese are so happy. A be-helmeted traffic cop with sunglasses and a whistle marshals the traffic in front of Canada bar to let the hoarders cross and head home.. I wonder what they will have for dinner....

 

For dinner I go to ban fern and have a taro basket filled with stir fried tofu and cashews. I wasn't quite sure how to eat it. It was quite sticky, maybe too much soy sauce. The accompanying pineapple- mint shake was heaven.

 

I hope my sleep will be better than last night. I have changed rooms. Last night a whole raft of factors caused me an unhappy night. Ther room had an upper window which couldn't be covered and that let in light from my neighbour. The outside terrace was full of people, mainly Germans, talking and even after closing the windows- which I didn't want to do- I could still hear them. My neighbour then made a Skype call. Not lousy but the walls are thin...then. When all his had ended there was a low sub bass booming from across the yard. In the end I gave up trying to sleep and decided to get dressed and go for a walk. It was then 12. 30. The guesthouse was silent. I had to unlock the 2 external gates to get out. Around the corner is a place called smile bar. Unusual for Thailand...a bar full of teenagers playing pool and drinking. I walked up the road but nothing was open. A dog followed me, then barked, then the whole neighbourhood canine population began to join in and several more followed me. Better back in bed I thought.i probably got to sleep an hour later. my new room is at the rear, and has no extra window. Also the pillow is less like a bolster. Fingers crossed for a better slumber.

 

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Mae sot refugee aid

It's blistering hot. I've never felt such intense sun, so I'm now back on the corner by Canada bar. Opposite by the police station is the road with the Chinese humanitarian centre. Today is a special day. They a giving out sacks of food, and the street is awash with scruffy kids, mothers with new horns in their arms, men with broken teeth and betel nut stains, kids smoking cheroots, people now squatting wherever there is shade, including under the stage where the pink capped humanitarian workers are sitting on top of and guarding the sacks of food. They have a system for distribution, and it is guarded by guys in military uniforms. It involves a yellow laminated card with a red symbol on it. I gather it is gained by revolving around the stage and passing two checkpoints at which your hand is daubed with a different colour food dye, indigo then green. An overjoyed burman hugs me and shakes my hand, making me green too.

 

Opposite this stage is a Chinese temple and prayer hall a square with a gazebo in the middle and a stage on the other side. In the prayer hall a group of elderly Chinese monks, dressed in white sing prayers and carry out a ceremony. Inside the hall is a mountain of food bags which a shouldered out in line the crowd held back by an avenue of blue barrels, to the stage. The mountain there is growing, ready to be handed out. On the stage. Is a. Traditional Chinese play. Two large made up men, hooting and screeching. Sounds of Chinese percussion. The Burmese are hot, bemused, but. Patient.

On the other side of town the Thais are at school. In the street across the way the Muslims a being called to prayer. The Burmese temple is closed and full of sleepy dogs.

It's 2 pm, and I can't believe how much life I have seen already today.

Video to follow....

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Mae sot

Im 5 km from the Burma border. A ride in 2 mini buses full of locals, up and down and round a windy mountain road. It's misty and raining on the mountain top. Down the other side in the town it's hot, sunny, the bus station is not full of the usual tuk tuk drivers and taxis and nobody is in the least bit interested in me, which is good and bad, as I am immediately lost and walk up and down in many wrong ways. Some schoolboys point me in the wrong way, probably not understanding what I want. Map reading in another language. Is impossible. Eventually a woman at an upmarket jade store helps me. I'm warned it is quite far,but actually it isn't so far to locate the place in my guidebook. On a whim I decide to take a look at a neighbouring guest house.the room is big, airy, sturdy teak furniture and a bargain at 200 baht, plus renting a bike is 20. I. Take it, unwind, then cycle into town. The guesthouse is opposite a building site where manual labour is quite intense...I watched lines of young guys passing buckets of cement along a human chain. Later I saw them leaving the site getting paid cash in hand then boarding a pickup sponsored by man iunited's Asian partner...

 

I searched for the Burmese restaurant I had read about but it had closed down. There are 2 main drags more or less parallel, I cycle up and down and criss- cross them too, looking for some vege food options. Nothing that seems open. Everything in Thai. There are brooding clouds over the school playing field where kids are gathered to watch some football game...the rain begins lightly then chucks it down for 15 minutes flooding some of the potholed roads. This is the province that experienced devastating flash floods only 1 month ago. . I try a new experience: cycling with an umbrella! I spend a while watching scooters and bikes laden with numerous passengers, holding umbrellas, shrouded in oversize brightly coloured ponchos. It all rapidly dries up, but obviously the bigger puddles are going to last a while

 

I look some more at the town, an begin to wander through the market. It's not quite Thai. There are men. And women with white streaks of ash rubbed on their faces, apparently this is a Burmese habit. There are men in longyis, a kind of Burmese skirt type affair. It's a scruffy town, there are poor looking people. A Burmese man hunched in the doorway smoking a cheroot, a dirty boy dropping a banana skin as he trudges the street. A man on a scooter in a pith helmet.women in head scarfs, Muslim. Chinese temples, Burmese temples; to be checked out later. A big police station which is prominent in the town centre, perhaps not surprising as this place is famed for smuggling of every kind. There is a one way system, and amazingly for a town that seems so wayward, everybody obeys it..unlike elsewhere I've been in Thailand. I do not, and feel very self conscious!

I ride round and round looking for the Canadian bar. God knows I must have passed it several times already. Once there I take a pavement seat and order a masaman curry and mango shake. The curry is not really the best I've had, the shake is great. This is a faring bar with low prices, and the guys here I think are all working for NGOs here.

 

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Optician

I'm in an optician in sukhothai to get my stupid glasses straightened.....£100 they cost me and they have as much strength as a soggy biscuit.

The optician is all super clean and professional with 5 glamorous lilac suited assistants who naturally speak next to no English. One of them produces google translate to negotiate with me. The key phrases are that the glasses may break and the shop will not be responsible. So I wait while they do their best and a farmer type with nasty sores and scars on his legs tries on specs, his family in attendance.

Lo and behold the the frames have broken, the lenses fallen out. They kindly offer me some replacement frames, but I don't want to make an impulse buy of £45 on specs right now. I graciously thank them for their efforts and depart. It's actually hot today. Cloudy blue sky. Sunlight.

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Si satchanalai

Well I worked it out. Those guys in chopper bar ( what a name) are the local bikers. Yesterday they turned up on their Harleys and cut off sukhothai city black shirts. They seem to be always the honoured guests with the young boy and girl, the kids of the owner, I guess jumping to attention. The boy's job is portable barman. He has a trolley full of whiskers and mixers and ice and he regularly pours out new ones for these guys....no measuring....I saw one of them using his brick like Motorola.what is it with these? Over the road, from the veranda I see a group of cops stopping, searching then taking away in the back of a pickup a couple of I don't know what's.

Sunday morning a I have a lie in til 9, a quick breakfast, and rent a motorbike, for the measly sum of 150 baht. It's manual, it tattles, the speedo doesn't work and the mirrors are floppy, so I can't see a thing behind me. Fortunately the roads, even the main ones are not too scary. There is a motorbike/ bike lane which doesn't necessarily get used by traffic just going with he flow. It's quite common to encounter a bike of motorbike or tricycle coming towards you. There isn't so much traffic, the road is mainly straight, but a bit pot holed. There are so many stray dogs lolloping around. They look like foxes, and my weedy horn is unlikely to rouse them. In fact on my return journey I very nearly did hit a dog, but this one had an owner. It crossed the road at its own pace. Even when seeing me neither sped up nor stopped. A big black thing a bit like a Labrador. I came so close to hitting it..full on braking...

Transportation in hail and deserves a mention. Motorbikes, ie 100 cc Hondas are the main form of travelling herein the north. I saw a sign indicating that helmets are essential, however, I saw maybe 3 people wearing them, some carrying them...and bikes carrying up to 4 people. I passed a husband carrying his wife pillion, she was cradling her new born baby between them. I don't know what the age is, but there are certainly 12 year old kids riding these bikes in heir flip flops and Chelsea football kit.

Them there is the Toyota pickup, the fancier ones with cab with 2 rows of seats. The pick up section is used for carrying animals, machinery, vegetables, and people. Sometimes a group of kids, sometimes a whole gang of workers from the fields.

The public transport are saewthawn, which in some places are pickups with the back area covered, but open at the sides, with 2 wooden benches face to face, and a step at the back. Luggage goes on the top, can be flagged down, goes designated routes, used by school kids, workers, traders. In sukhothai these are more like trucks with the same wooden benches, and a wooden floor. They drive incredibly slowly. The tuk tuks here are back to front, more like a ricks haw. Motorbike section at the back, front section is a 2 wheeled affair open at the front and containing 2 benches face to face. The hole thing covered by a flat roof.

 

There are motorbikes with side cars. The sidecar being more like a box on wheels, suitable for anything and anyone.

Some of the vehicles in the countryside are weird looking too. Something which reminds me of a horse and cart, except it is based on a motorcycle. It's a tricycle with very long handlebars, which reach back to the driver who has a seat on the cart area.

Today's trip to si satchanalai was cool. I missed the park entrance to. Begin with and explored the area, finding several ruined temples near the road and one with a massive chedi on top of a forested hill. Here I glimpsed a local family rooting for some kind of bugs, the father was banging trees with a stick, taking a drag on his cigarette and breathing the smoke into bore holes in the tree. I don't thing they were succeeding...and anyway I don't know what they were looking for exactly.

 

I rode out of the archaeological park, and found myself on a road flanked with paddies reflecting distant mountains. A woman was. Harvesting some rice, her daughters bagging it by the road. The paddies were swarming with birds, many of them large grey and white wading birds with long legs and beaks. A bit like storks.

When I get back to the park, I'm parking my bike and flagged down by woman from the restaurant shack place. She gets my order wrong and I have to send back the rice with pork.

I decide to ride round the park rather than cycle. It turns out to be a good idea as there is quite a lot of distance to cover. There is hardly anyone here, and each ruin I have more or less to myself. It rains a little, there is a swarm of dragon flies gathered over the road at wat Chang lom...the one with elephant chedi. On approaching I thought these were falling leaves, so big and so profuse were they. Wat chedi ched thaeo blows me away...the complex is vast and has enough ruins to last anyone a lifetime.

 

 

The final stop is outside the wall of the park. It has a Khmer tower and some bayon style carvings. Not much atmosphere though as there is construction going on around it.

The journey back is punctuated by a stop to gawp at this place ( see below ). Buddha Buddha everywhere. It's funny that I have seen so many ruins, yet I passed a number of places where temples are still being built.

 

Dinner is in a chilled out bar that does me a tofu Penang curry and a mango shake..awful lounges cover cd of Beatles songs and carpenters etc. etc....but more relaxing than choppers!

By the way I think I have had enough of ruins now...perhaps you have too? To finish, here is a missing Buddha!

 

 

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Sukhothai

Strange atmosphere at night around the bungalow. A pack of dogs howling and barking, in the morning the echoing discordant tangly of at Thai voice maybe advertising something or giving the news. There's aalittle kitten who is desperate to be with me, on my bed, only breakfast table....

I get a sawntaewn to old sukhothai which acts as a delivery truck for the hawker stalls at the old temples.i rent a knack erred bike for 30 baht and the ticket sellers at the gate to the historical park are grumpy and unhelpful. The park itself is flat and features the partially reconstructed complexes of some pretty vast temples replete with standings and seated Buddhas. There are quite a few tourists, like me on bikes, or bigger groups on the electric shuttle or in tuk tusk. It's not a particularly serene place. It's a tourist park..but I guess I've been spoiled with the low key and more evocative Khmer ruins in the east. I grab a plate of fried vegetalian food ( that's how it is written) and a pineapple shake at a little shack, and the groups of spa airs and French trawl back to their buses, all with a bottle of coca Colain hand.

The park is all manicured and a bit dull. I take my clunky one speed bike out of the park and follow the back roads through the woods where there are dozens of ruined chedi and temples. Not as well reconstructed as the park, but a lot more evocative.the best one is here, wat sapan hin, a 200 metre climb taking me to a shell of a temple, 6 columns and a 25m standing Buddha overlooking a flat falt forested plain. I've had my 15 minutes alone.a Spanish couple arrive, the girl adopts a Buddha posture for a photo.here come some more. At least cos you have to make am effort to get here, theses people won't be asses!

 

 

 

 

 

I st for a mango shake by the roadside, and am on the point of returning to base when I realise ther is still more to see, and it's spectacular, a lily moated crumbly temple on an island with smashed and broken Buddhas, a Khmer style tower and a herd of cows grazing. And hardly anyone there!

 

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Journey north

I forgot to mention the mauve mountains on the horizon,the paddy fields glowing in the sunset as we enter the lower northern region. Joy division on the iPad. I'm not sure how appropriate, but it works....

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Travelling to phitsanulok

This is bus is more like a plane than the local one I caught from phi mai to korat. That one was rickety, jump on and off, and full of leathery faced older people and u overstay students. They all wear uniforms too. The boy going to the technical university has a dark grey military uniform. He stands to attention on the bus holding along set square like a gun. Schools are very visible and prominent in this culture. I'm sure you wouldn't be aware of them driving through England.

Korat bus takes us past a huge school, with a green clad military sentry. The kids, all in orange shirts and black trousers, wai the guard.

Last night it rained incessantly. The night market packed up as the road became a big puddle. It must be tough when your livelihood as a trader can be rained off Like this. I do manage to get a bag of mangosteens, which always remind me of Cyrus, and longans, a huge bag of crushed dried red chillies, and a package of spring rolls which comes with an inconceivably huge bunch of salad leaves, including basil and some crunchy bitter shiny dark green ones. I have this for lunch on the bus to phitsanulok the next day.

As I was saying, it's more like a plane: liveried purser, a welcome announcement on the mic, a box of cakes and water for each passenger, and a personal appearance by both drivers who stand in the door of the cabin(the crew is sealed off from the passengers, yes, like a plane) to wai to us all. This one has air conditioning as opposed to opening the windows at speed and letting the air rush in.....

When the Rain eased momentarily I did stretch my legs to alleviate the growing sense of tedium and isolation.i haven't found a very sociable place to stay. The only other 2 guests are a cold French couple whose sum conversation is to ask if I know the whereabouts of the police station. In fact whilst over here in the east all the travellers I have met have been French. Funny how this works out. Last year in surathani everyone was German.

There are a few brave stall holders, who anyway look prepared for this, and a couple who have much better, dry and sheltered pitches. Under the ruined chedi is a barbecue stall. The woman perched on her motorbike watching a tv she has rigged and up and protected in layers of polythene.....

Dinner is a disappointing and overpriced plate of stir fried rice and veg, over which I attempt to plan meeting up with hon in ayutthya on fb. He hasn't looked at my dates,says he is busy, says we can meet at koh Changan the end of my trip, but doesn't factor in his starting work. A impasse. He then blocks me...wtf? Thais guys are flakey, confusing and full of shit......

Back to this bus. For the first 2 hours I have had to plug myself into my iPod. I should say, even though I have around 40 days of music on it, it doesn't seem able to provide the necessary soundtrack for Asia. Most of the music I have is too rooted in uk,my uk past. Some is too abrasive, some too electronic....anywayi plugged it in to drown out what we were subjected to on the tv screens on the bus. It starts with some pop videos. There was one particular one that sticks in my mind. Beautiful young man arrives in his land rover at a school camp in the countryside. I'm not sure why he is there, but on arriving the kids are excited when they see him and there is a lingering meeting of eyes with a beautiful teacher. I think he has brought them gifts as he is later surrounded by the little munchkins waiing him as the open presents. maybe they are orphans....The following scenes show her to be wonderful, caring, loving, a perfect teacher, adored by her little kids. She tucks them in under blankets, by a camp fire. A few shots of the happy couple. Then he leaves again in his land rover...touching waving goodbye scene. All the kids and woman waving. The man drives off and has a quiet moment by the river. Cut to the woman. Se returns to the class room. There is a script in chalk on the board. It startles her and she reflects. Obviously he wrote something...I have no idea what. But judging from the tone of the video it has no sexual innuendo. Probably praising her qualities as a teacher! Kind of weird.it's clearly a love some....but the kids element makes it quite obtuse.

The other videos were very amateurish. There was a rock band. I can tell this as, rebelliously, the sing had long hair. He was surrounded by a team of women dancers, who all. Had pink suitcases, the pull along type. In fact all these videos have beautiful long haired heavily made up Thai beauties, modestly dressed. Even the one with the old guy in the cowboy hat walking along the river singing and playing his guitar. Could be any of the characters I saw in pai!

There followed a video, could it have been a music video???of sepia footage of the current Thai king through the ages, looking noble, benign, respected, intelligent. Walking around villages, fishing, receiving guests, meeting the people.i can't imagine anything like this being made in uk...if it is a music video.....

But the worst thing was an hour of something called he variety show. Tv at its worst.ridiculous looking hosts: a woman ( see description of eye candy for music video) and a guy who would give timmy mallet a run for his money in the worst dressed guy in tv history. Big glasses, a green striped shirt, bow tie, pink jacket with sleeves rolled up to the elbows 80s style, and 3/4 length skinny trousers. I not sure what happens on the show. There are 2 teams of possibly celebrities. One is a. Big jovial fat guy with a shaved head who play some games, such as eating some apparently revolting bright green food. These guys are dressed I really tasteless costumes: black and white check jackets with bright yellow or green spangly hoods, hats to match. The show involves a lot of standing around and saying things that result in a lot of guffawing.the studio Audience clearly loves it. There is an extended section with motor cycle stunt riders. Actually they ride 100cc automatics, so I guess the audience identifies with them.they wheelie, do rear wheelies as they stop, ride standing on the seat...nothing very jaw dropping. There is some young teenage oh who features here. I think he asks one of the riders some questions. Maybe he has been selected for this show. He looks bemused, bashful, perplexed...anyway eventually he takes part in the final stunt. Get this: two rows of riders lie perpendicular to the approaching bike. The rows are separated by a line of purple balloons, around 8 of them. The bike approaches. The boy is also on the bike, his back is facing forwards. On the first approach the rider pulls the bike into a rear wheel wheelie but stops just short of his prone colleagues, as he would have run them over. Gasps of horror from the crowd. Close ups of the celebrities, the pretty eye candy host looks bored. Second approach...this is the stunt....the rider takes a straight line this time, pulls the rear wheelie, the boy is now hanging backwards over the handle bars. He. Is wearing a crash hat with aspire on it. All the balloons are burst in sequence, the bike clears the lines. Cue applause and adulation. The boy is overjoyed and I am underwhelmed.

One more bus to get to sukhothai and it feels like an oasis of tranquility. Staying in a bamboo hut at 300 baht. Town is small and sleepy...good!had armed curry at choppers bar...styled around the Wild West and biking and Buddhism. There is a big group of chunky middle aged Thais with a German tattooed guy, who I presumed was chopper. One of their group has brought in a job lot of 80s style Motorola phones, which he is sharing around. I don't get it it. It's like something out of only fools and horses. I notice that waiting is the way to greet here. There is a 14 year old kid serving the drinks, unmeasured. The Thai guys great him like slackly and don't make eye contact or thank him. My red curry is ok...needs much more spice. There. Ae several pairs of adventurous western females here. A guy is singing,and playing guitar and harmonica. His stage is a replica bull cart..I have 2 beers and return to sit in the near Silence outside my bungalow.

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Banyan tree

This has to be the craziest tree in the world. It takes up an entire island and its hanging roots plunge to the ground like hundreds of trunks, in the bowls of this monster is a shrine and trees are bedecked with strings of flowers, the ground scattered with monkey, horse, and elephant statues. Am old woman pursues me asking if I want a massage. A local family come to shake prayer sticks and an excited boyreadshis fortune from the one that falls out. I catch their eye and first they want me to take their picture, then they ask me to pose with them so they can take my pic too. They are overwhelmed with joy. Scattered around are small tables and chairs where teenagers are gathered. Across the bridge back on dry land is a long open shed of benches and food stalls where I get the usual pad Thai. The rain is spotting down on me.

 

Tiziano terzano's is becoming even more relevant. I read his Bangkok chapter under the tree, and notice that there is actually a fortune teller lodged at the far corner of the island. More stick shakers. Some saffron figures, monks, glide through the trees. Back on dry land there is a stall selling bags of fish and turtles. Buy them and set them free for luck. It seems quite perverse that these creatures are bred and. Imprisoned and sold to bring people luck.

Cycle in the rain past the big square pond covered with lilies and water buffalo grazing the banks. I trace the site of the perimeter wall of the old town. The roads are still laid out in cruciform and the remains of each gate can be found at the ends of each cardinal artery.

 

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Phi mai

After the big flash it rains most of the night. Steady drizzle, but large drops that evaporate as soon as they touch you. I have a beer at the bar on the corner, seemingly staffed entirely by lady boys.

Wake up early and wander the town as it begins its day. Kids going to school, breakfast hawkers. I get a fried egg and juice.

When I enter the prasat phi mai, I'm the only person there, other than women in scarf cum masks and wide brimmed hats meditatively sweeping the dust and fallen leaves from the ruins. It's a big site and I garner that it's been largely rebuilt. There are barefooted guys precariously erected scaffolding at the west gate. There is a collection of remoulded sculptures. Regardless the place is spectacular, and is claimed to be thailands largest stone monument. The same layout as angkor wat, and apparently there is an ancient road linking the 2 places. It must be weird having this as the centre of your town. The main tower is flooded with the creepy echoing cooing of pigeons. It's a peculiar mixture of ancient, well, 1100 years old, and a place where life carries on almost obliviously. I see pictures of how it was before restorations began, the romantic in me kind of prefers it.

 

 

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