Moats, Temples and PushMe-PullYou's

Chiang Mai is the kind of town that at first glance is tourist trap. Within the old moated town, every second shop is promoting touristy activities and this puts me off. "Massage sir?", " Trek sir?", "Elephant park sir?" seems to be all you hear and the cynic in me said I should leave straight away, especially as I was staying in Beelzebub's own motel. However, Chiang Mai grows on you if you give it a chance. The Old Town is a calm square of tree lined streets, cafes and temples that somehow gets under your skin. The people are genuinely friendly and by and large the food is superb, cheap and served in an environment that says, "Please stay a while longer". The moat, with partial surviving ancient red-brick fortress walls has been turned from deterrent into a pleasing attraction with fountains and sloping green lawns where dogs and children play with happy abandon. Chiang Mai itself has colourful history with its roots in the Khmer culture of Cambodia. It was haggled over by the Thais and Burmese for centuries, with alternating control, before it decided to settle down and be a Thai tourist town - which it now does with aplomb. The local Lanna-style architecture that is found in stately buildings and temples alike, is a glorious combination of teak and stone, that appears light and important at the same time. Some of the 300 temples with their multicoloured, swooping roofs and separate chedis are spectacular. There are no charges for entering the temples, which in my mind is a plus as it appears the Buddhists are more interested in worship than money. However, the lie to the non-commercial appearance, is apparent in the details. In one, I was asked to make a donation into the bowl labeled with the day of the week I was born so "I would be assured of long and happy life". Apparently God is most concerned with which day of the week you were born and only bestows favours if you praise him accordingly. The temples, like most Buddhist temples, all contain impressive, huge golden statues of a serene-looking Buddha who impassively smiles at the hoard of food and grocery donations placed at his feet by the faithful. Vast red carpets, numerous bells and huge teak columns complete the pious picture and tranquil beauty. All very humbling, except when one considers the abject poverty nearby and the huge sums diverted to these ornamental buildings instead of education or health.

On one of my strolls, I came across a sight that almost got me run over. I was crossing the street, and while waiting in the middle, I noticed two dogs attached on the opposite pavement. They were attached, not in the traditional, erh, doggie style, but rather backside to backside. Both were complete mongrels; one was white and one was black. They seemed as confused by the situation as I was. They turned themselves around clockwise and then anti-clockwise and then repeated the process, seemingly unable to detach themselves. I could not see what bound them together, but bound they were. The moved forwards, they moved backwards, but for whatever reason they simply could not part wyas. I was contemplating this strange imitation of the famed "PushMe-PullYou's" when I was almost mowed down by a bus. Realising that placing myself in mortal danger was not worth solving the riddle, I left my mid-road vantage point and moved on in ignorance.

I shared a breakfast table with Phil from Phoenix, Arizona. Phil was a teacher traveling during the holidays. In a display of extraordinary humility, he seemed to apologise profusely for the dismal state of the world and George Bush's dire foreign policy, which he saw as its root cause. He appeared to experience physical pain at the thought of him and beseeched the powers that be, almost in prayer, to replace Dubya with a Democrat, any Democrat, in '08. He explained that as an English teacher, his main problem is getting kids to read. He has to contend with the Religious Right attempting to ban popular books like Harry Potter on blasphemous grounds which promptly sends the kids scurrying to MTV instead. Phil came across as a man who had been released from prison now that he was traveling across South East Asia, and I guess, in a way he was.

I found a little bar, that is the kind of bar, that is only found in transient backpacker towns. It has a live band, free pool table, staff who want to drink with you and is decorated in a combination of faded flags and photos of travelers engaging in hedonistic revelry. It did not take much persuasion for me to become another photo on the wall, beyond budget and thoroughly intoxicated.

I did not do the cooking Tom Yam Gool course I contemplated, however Chiang Mai baked a warm souffle of happiness in me and I was just a tad sad to be moving on to Chiang Rai.