Chiang Mai

Born to be wild.
see all photos »

We’re in Chiang Mai for a week. Our guided touring is over and now Andy starts his Thai massage course. We’re staying in the family compound of Homprang and Christopher, along with Christopher’s invalid brother, and Homprang’s two brothers, their wives, and their families. They’ve created quite the retreat, with steam baths, a treatment room, a sanctuary for morning yoga and plenty of upstairs downstairs accommodation, mozzie-proofed and fanned. Henry and I get to cool our heels while Andy discovers that learning Thai massage at 51 years old is an exhausting proposition. Homprang, the matriarch, with a cheeky face and hair that reaches halfway to the floor, demonstrates that the active nature of Thai massage requires the practitioner be both strong and – the bigger challenge for Andy – flexible. This may be more of an eye-opening than truly a training week.

Our home for a week eye jai cow luk lu clah.
see all photos »

On our first afternoon, we hear fireworks in the near distance and venture out in the rain to the local wat, where 100 young novices are being inducted into the monk’s life. The chanting, the umbrellas, the loud music, the flowers, the banners … Henry likens it to graduation, with grinning parents bearing cameras and bored participants just wanting it over with. For us it’s a peek into village life not found on the tourist map.

Our guide introduces himself with a grin. “They call me Captain Flip.”

Our balcony is completely screened to protect us from biters but still we have a resident gecko.
see all photos »

The bell rings every morning at 7. Ten minutes later, we’re in the sanctuary for Thai yoga which is good for everybody and essential for the practitioner. She tells us that during training, she was required to sit in the lotus position and raise herself on her fingertips while protecting a raw egg under each palm! She lights incense and, along with family members, prays to images of both Buddha and his personal physician, the two of them having been fashioned from a tree root found on this property which, twelve years ago was not an oasis but a rice paddy.  Her younger brother leads us through stretching and strengthening exercises with a mesmerizing chant that sounds vaguely like “Eye jai cow luk lu … clah” and translates into “Breathe in … and out.” But it sounds much better in Thai.  Forty minutes later, we’re shaking our bodies and jumping for joy that yoga is over and breakfast by the pond will begin.

The two littlies, Pop and Up, unwittingly pose by the fish pond
see all photos »

One of many smart design elements here is the birdcage, suspended over the pond so the poop and spilled seed provide extra fish food instead of extra work for humans. Another is the treatment room, built on stilts over the pool, which acts like a moat against invading ants. Each night, as dinner is cooked we, too, are steamed and herb-infused before dunking in the pool. The family is bemused by the odd “falang” who disrobes with abandon. We, in turn, can’t imagine getting steamed in a pair of swimmers.

We part the roots of the overhead plants to reach the dining room.
see all photos »

One day, having promised Henry elephant rides and rafting, we find a reputable company, leave Andy to his hand presses and stretches, and hurtle off into the hills, along with just one other couple. Where do they live? Less than a mile from Marjorie Irving in Mt. Martha, Australia. Ridiculous.

The elephant camp is misty and drizzly as we board An Thom and lumber off into the swollen river, only slightly worried that he might dump us in the middle. (That was to come later.) In a perfect world, each long-living elephant is trained by a man and a boy. When the man retires, the boy takes over as mahout – the elephant’s caretaker for life. Our mahout retires early and Henry takes over his position on An Thom’s head – a vastly more comfortable spot than the bench lashed onto its back. Elephants have soft feet, hence their very deliberate and careful pace when walking. Their sense of balance is remarkable given their size, and after the initial shock of realizing how high up we were, we feel well cared for, except for the fact that the rain is relentless. We’re told to bring a change of clothes for this day of adventure and hadn’t realized we’d need it so early.

Oh boy oh boy. Now were monks.
see all photos »

A little surprise awaited us in the form of mountain biking, which we’d not understood was part of this day. Still, we muddle through the mud and we’re soon practicing our “Right paddle right!” and our “Get Down!” on the bank of the Mae Tang River. Our guide introduces himself with a grin. “They call me Captain Flip.” Within thirty seconds of put in, while we’re floating under a bridge, he’s smacked his paddle on the water surface with the reverberating crack of a gun. “Snake!” he declares, and we realize we’re in for a fun ride. We watch at the first rapid as the raft in front of us disappears from view. At the second, we pull over, because Raft #1 has lost a passenger. We breathe deeply. As we arrive at the third, we see the head raft jammed up against the rocks, full of water and unable to dislodge. Captain Flip grins, ties us to a tree mid-rapid, and strolls off to the rescue the others. Rescue accomplished, he deliberately steers us to a tight spot between two rocks, where we hang at a 45 degree angle, water rushing around all sides and swamping the boat. He commands us to move to the left and then to the right. He pushes and squeezes until we hurtle through, our raft awash with muddy water, screams, howls and cheers as we continue on an extended roller coaster ride that has us paddling but mostly just hanging on for dear life while Captain Flip puts the raft through its paces. He has remarkable control and we discover later that the front boat’s troubles are largely a result of an arrogant crew that didn’t follow instructions.  These were Class 5 rapids. Whether the result of the rain of the last two days or actually due to a shallow river, we’re not too sure, but we do know we’ve never experienced their like and wonder if we ever will in the risk-averse USA. And we’re glad we left Andy at the compound…