Now let’s see…

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I just want to see if this cross-posts elsewhere. I’ll be starting journaling maybe even today. 🙂

I was ranting tonight. Here are some of things I had to say.

Dear fellow women,
Dear fellow women bikers,

There is indeed a club.
There is a club made up of bikers. What some of you don’t realize, and what I’d like to make you aware of, is that you are, in fact, already a member of this club.

You are a biker. If you have begun riding a motorcycle in the past 10 years, perhaps no one made you aware of the membership responsibilities of this club, so I will try to outline some of them for you.

Stop for other bikers.
If you see a bike stopped at the side of the highway, looking distressed (not just stopped hiding from the rain or to make a phone call), STOP. You don’t know how, necessarily, but you might be able to help. Maybe you are just reassuring them that they are already on the right track. Maybe you are giving them a lift to the nearest gas station. Maybe you have the ratchet they need to tighten something. Maybe they are from out of town and you know the nearest mechanic. You may feel you have nothing to offer, but you never know. You should always stop.
Wave at other bikers.
You’ve possibly seen this and didn’t know what it meant: a sports bike passes you at an insane speed on the freeway. As he/she passes you, she sticks her foot out. This is her, waving at you. It doesn’t mean anything else. It’s acknowledgement that he or she has seen you and recognized that you too are a member of the club. If you were too late to have already stuck hand or foot out (you should have done this if you saw them in your mirror, about to pass), that’s ok. But try to remember to do this in the future. It’s ok to not always be noticing your fellow riders, but here’s the thing: One of the things about riding a motorcycle is that we MUST be more aware of our surroundings than car drivers. It is more than a fender bender that awaits us if we are not. A small accident can mean the loss of life or limb. So most of the time, yes, we are aware. We see those other bikers coming up behind us. We see the ones coming towards us in oncoming lanes. We see the ones waiting at intersection stoplights. And yes, we give everyone recognition. A nod (if our hands are busy with clutch, gas and brake), a wave, or a foot sticking out. Just do it. People will do it back.
Stop where other bikers are.
Remember how I said you don’t have to stop if people are just making a phone call or waiting out the rain. Well. Let’s say you’re driving down the highway and the weather gets crazy. If this hasn’t happened to you yet, don’t worry, it will. You NEED to stop (for all those safety reasons that they went over in your driving training and which I won’t go over now). Now, I know you think you are a biker partially because you are not a very social person. Yeah, me too. But. If you’ve got to stop anyway, stop where there are other bikers. Or at least don’t avoid them. This also goes for gas station stops, food stops, or any other kind of stop. You will find that we’re not a particularly talkative lot, but we will always welcome our own. You can pull up, nod at everyone (or just the ones that seem most comfortable), and park amidst them. You will almost always be accepted. And if you do, sometimes you will be rewarded with better information, maps, technical advice or even a lasting friendship.

This is my advice for the moment.
I’m tired of passing women riders on the road and seeing that they don’t know the basic etiquette of their club membership. I started riding quite some time ago, and there weren’t nearly so many women on the road. I’m happy to see more of us, but I wish more of them understood the etiquette. They get left out as a result.

Here are the perks:

When you have a problem, someone will always stop and help you. No really. I’ve had all number of troubles on my motorcycle over the years, and I have to say that the invention and profligation of the mobile phone has made people forget that they need other people. MOST of the time, we don’t need AAA or any official paid club to get our bikes on the road. Most of the time, we’ve flooded our engines, run out of gas, burst a valve, or just simply gotten lost. In those cases, a fellow rider is a better solution than a technical service. A fellow rider may reassure us that waiting 20-40 minutes will put our engine back to normal. A fellow rider may give us a lift to the nearest gas station and back. A fellow rider may be better able to direct us to a nearby mechanic (smart phones aren’t always handy if you’re out of your country anyway). A fellow rider may actually lead you to where you’re going. Being a member of the club, we offer these services to one another. Respect the people who stop for you, and stop for others when you can.
When you have had a bad riding experience (and seriously, there WILL be those days), you will have people who will understand. All clubs offer this. And we understand. We have all made mistakes. We have, nearly all of us, had near brushes with death. We have all ridden miles and miles in the freezing rain, only to be sent the other direction and retraced our path, with no idea where we’re staying. If you have a bad riding day, and you’re still on the road, look for other bikers. They know that feeling, whether you choose to tell them about it or not. Drink your coffee with them, huddled over steaming take-away cups under an overhang outside a gas station, and belong.
Sometimes, and I don’t mean to say this happens often, but sometimes, and it’s worth a lot indeed, another biker will do you a great favor for no other reason than that you are also a biker. They will spend a couple of hours helping you get a mechanic in a foreign country where you don’t speak the language. They will arrange a place to stay for you for free, where you feel safe. They will let you join their group to escort you from somewhere you don’t feel safe. They will do this for no other reason than your humanity, but they will do it because you ask. And your method of asking will be by being part of the club. You are on a bike. They will see your need and they will come and help you. They might not even be on a bike at the time. You will know them anyway.

A word of caution on that front.
Go with your gut. If someone makes you nervous in their offer, don’t accept it. Ever. Not even if your nervousness makes no sense whatsoever. Just don’t. Maybe they’re fine. Maybe not. But I’m not about to understand all the vagaries of our reptilian, baser selves. I’ve followed my gut in any number of situations. I’ve accepted the offer of accommodation in a camper van with 2 men who were easily stronger than me. I’ve turned down the smaller offer of dinner at the home of someone else who was possibly my physical equal. I’ve taken rides from all sorts, and offered rides to similar. Remember: you are independent, on your bike. If you put yourself into someone else’s hands, be absolutely confident in that. If you are not, don’t do it. Just don’t.

Yesterday I woke up at 4am.
4am.
I went downstairs to use the toilet, back upstairs to change the sheets for my renter, called a cab for 5am (the bus was too complicated until a bit later), took a shower, finished packing, cut up the last of the watermelon, and headed out.

At the no-longer-so-new Starbucks at Schiphol they have attempted to streamline the overlong order line by having a guy take orders to the baristas. It was too early for me to notice that I was carrying a name tag in the form of an espresso cup with my Americano in it around the airport. My name, written in a clear hand, large, on the side of my cup. Come to think of it, I could have turned my lid so the drinking hole was on the same side. At 5:30, however, I only thought it was pretty funny they’d put it on the opposite side.

I flew to Paris, where I switched languages in my handy bank of food-ordering vocabulary from Dutch to French in order to buy a pain au chocolat and a noisette. In the gift shop I realized it’s been a while since I’ve been in Paris, and couldn’t bring myself to buy any last-minute presents for family.

Then we had a very disorganized boarding procedure for the trip to Seattle.

For this leg, I had to fly economy comfort, because there were no economy tickets available with frequent flyer points. I was very skeptical about it’s benefits, but I was wrong to be. You get:
A noticeably bigger seat, with way more legroom and a deeper incline, with adjustable leg rest.
One of those little in-flight goodie bags, with earplugs, warm socks, sleeping mask, toothbrush, comb, and a couple of other things.
Better food, drinks, and lots of mini bottles of water.
Privileged boarding and exiting.

I don’t know how much it would have cost if this was a paid ticket, but it was really much better.

I ate every scrap of the food! And I slept, a lot.

We landed at noon in Seattle, so I had somehow really screwed up my flight details, telling people I’d be in around 10:30, when that was actually the departure time. Hmmm… That doesn’t make sense. It’s a 12hour flight and a 9hour timezone difference. Do I have something wrong? I’m too lazy to work it out now.

I had some minor delays in the airport, so didn’t manage to pick up my completely adorable rental car until about 2, which is also when I called Michi, who had started a mural in Edmonds that day. So I drove there to meet her, and she, meanwhile, cleaned up for the day.

Michiko, in her muraling overalls, next to my adorable rental car, with a view of the Sound:

The beach at Edmonds looks and smells like the Puget Sound. It was wonderful. There’s an underwater park for divers, with various installations and a lot of marine life. Obviously we didn’t go in, but we lounged on the beach for a while. It was a nice return to Washington.

After the beach, we headed back to her place via Aurora Ave, which if you don’t know Seattle is kind of a main artery of both traffic and existence here. It is also Old Highway 99, which we could take all the way down to Centralia if we liked (we didn’t), and it’s both seedy and perfectly normal.

On the way we passed lots of greasy spoons, which got both of us craving greasy American food, and me reminiscing about Beth’s Cafe, home of the 12-egg omelet. So we decided that after going back to her place, showering, and taking a walk, we’d go to Beth’s.

Michi lives just up the hill from the Seattle Center and the Space Needle (an easy walk), and uphill from her place is a really rich neighborhood with gigantic houses and a great view. We walked around up there, admiring hidden parks, Italian villas, and views over the Sound. Then we got back in the car, headed back north on Aurora, and went to Beth’s.

Beth’s is exactly as I remember it, except that it was still light out and I think I only ever went there in the wee hours. Also I’m pretty sure in my memory it was always smoky. There were tons of crayon drawings all over the walls, and the greasy food was delicious. I ordered a root beer (and got Henry’s, my favorite, although the menu said a different brand), a chicken/ham/swiss sandwich, sweet potato fries, and onion rings (to share!!!). Michi ordered pancakes, sausage, and eggs. It was way more food even than I had anticipated! I ate the sandwich and we together dented about a third each of the fries and rings. The ranch dip here is excellent!

After dinner, we went back to her place, then walked downhill to Safeway (oh my god it’s an expanse of grocery heaven) and bought the first silly and delicious-looking beverage that caught our eyes: Mike’s Original Margarita, which did not taste like margarita at all, but was still a pretty delicious lime-flavored alcoholic pop. We took our purchase back to Michi’s roof, which has the perfect view of iconic Seattle, and enjoyed the evening.

And then I passed out. After a really long day, a full tummy, and that one bottle of marga-pop. It was 9pm.

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Location:W. 2nd Ave, Seattle

Ok, as the next travel adventure is coming up, I was getting stressed out about how much money everything costs. I was also stressing about getting someone to feed my cat and water the plants. Last year, we let a friend of a friend stay here for the cost of a cleaner. The years before we had the sister of a friend. The friend of a friend was terrible, and made our emergency contacts pretty irritated. I thought this year maybe it would be best to rent it out… for a reasonable price. Paying might make people more aware of what they’re spending. We’ll see.

I put an ad on elynx.nl for the whole period, and got a lecturer from Istanbul who would need it only half the time while she finishes a followup course here in town, then her husband joins her for a couple of days. Fine, good. Arranged. She sounds a bit like me, anxiety-wise, so that should be fine. 🙂

Then I put it up on AirB&B.com for the remainder of the dates. Got someone right away, a stage hand from Toronto, who is coming with his fiance and their 2 friends, who have a farm; all are animal-lovers, and are happy to care for the cat and plants. They sound perfect, but he needed to confirm some details before they could make a formal bid for the place, and could I hold off on accepting another one for one day? Ok, because they sounded good.

Right I was! The next bid was a family of 4, driving through on an antique-collection trip. 2 teenage boys (ack!) and a station wagon w/ trailer that they would need parking for. No mention of my cat or plants. Hmmm… I think not. The one after that was in French, requesting the house for dates that are not available. Nope. The one after that was in English, but a young student and his pals from Spain, also for unavailable dates. The first line of my property description reads:

This is a one-time offer while we are on vacation 17-22 August.

Is there something unclear about this? Anyway, we’re all set now. The 2 Canadian couples are reserved, and the next step was to sort out how to get the place cleaned in between renters. I can clean it before and after, but I no longer have a cleaner, so I’d have to ask around.

The neighbor’s cleaner is available, but she’s a bit weird, and the neighbors don’t recommend her. A friend’s cleaner was just fired, and they thought maybe an unemployed friend might be interested. No answer there. Then, lucky lucky… I thought to put it up on Facebook. Now I’ve got 2 friends taking responsibility for it. Fantastic. I trust them, whether they’re less efficient at it or not.

So, is this helping our travel plans? YES. Together they subsidize both the car rental and the brief hotel stay in Seattle (actually a home also booked through AirB&B), plus a good amount of gas. Yay! If it goes well, I think we will do this every time we’ll be out of town a few days. Or even a long weekend. We live in the center of Amsterdam. There are always tourists!!

This is all very good. 🙂

Here we come, Colorado (Matt only), Seattle, Centralia, Shelton, Portland, Seattle, and Olympia! 🙂

Day 10. 28 Jan. 2011. Long day in a van.

It wasn’t a bad hangover, but I was pretty tired, waking up for our drive to see caves near Mae Hong Son this morning. The alarm went off at 08:00, and we packed up, had breakfast, and checked out. The driver, Pradit, was right on time. He bowed very much to us, put our bags in the van, then we hopped into the back and we were off.

I slept for the first couple of hours. I woke up because the road had become quite curvy and bouncy, and I was being bounced all over the place in the slightly old and very bouncy van. I started feeling a little sick. We stopped twice for toilet breaks, and getting out and stretching helped, but the roads got worse and soon I was in really bad shape. We stopped for a scenic view, and I went and sat down with my head between my knees. Matt bought me a Fanta, and I moved to the front seat of the van, which helped a lot. I was able to eat lunch when we stopped, and was slowly feeling better.

Eventually we got to Thad Lod (Lod Cave), where after buying tickets and fish food, we followed a teenage girl guide with a lantern down a path to a beautiful stream-bank, where men sat around resting and cattle grazed. Bamboo canoes waited in the water to take us into the cave. It was a beautiful place.

The canoes were sturdier and more comfortable than they looked, and we sat while our guide and one of the men took us into the cave.

It was immense. Unfortunately, it proved to be close to impossible for me to take pictures of it, using my little digital point-and-shoot and no tripod. That, and the guide moved FAST. I stopped anyway, when I liked, but it was clear she didn’t approve. I think the idea was that they tried to keep the tourist groups apart, so that everyone got the feeling of being alone in the cave, which is a laudable endeavor, I have to say. There were times of canoeing interspersed with walking.

At a certain point, our guide pointed down, and we were reminded of the fish food we’d bought from the old ladies near the ticket counter by the huge, obviously well-fed carp that were everywhere. Matt fed them, mostly. At one point, one got so excited it jumped right into the canoe with us. Our guide and the boat guy were very surprised, and there was a bit of rocking as we tried to get it back into the water.

At probably the 3rd off-boat stop on our tour, we had been approaching an entrance that was so gorgeous and green outside. It looked like a piece of fairy-land or something, mystical and surreal, while overhead we could hear the bats. We climbed another steep staircase which we didn’t want to hold onto because of all the guano, and when we looked below, there was a nice view of the boat guy, his canoe surrounded by many of the carp we’d been feeding.

In this part of the cave, called the Coffin Cave, our guide showed us old coffins that had been found deep within.

Side-note here on how different visiting this cave was to so many other tourist caves I’ve been to. It is still relatively unexplored, and the caving organizations in the area advertise for interested cavers to help map parts of it and other interesting caves in the area. Although there are stairways built in many places, and some guard rails around sinkholes, there is also very little protection in place as yet for the rock formations. We walked among these rock terraces with impunity, and touched fresh-growing stalactites. Still, caving in this area bills itself as eco-tourism. A local Shan tribe handles all the cave tourism, even with the existence of international caving groups interested in the area, and in that respect, there’s certainly support being given to the local community here, but I found myself trying to not step on the tall parts, which also made very convenient steps.

At the end of the tour, about an hour later, we emerged where we’d gone in, pulled by the guy and pushed by the girl, back to where the cattle grazed and the other boat guys rested by the water.

After a refreshing iced coffee at the visitor’s center, we joined our driver and continued towards Mae Hong Son. On the way, we stopped at Tham Pla, the fish cave, where huge carp seem to bubble straight out of the side of the mountain. A strange place, but a nice garden to relax in. The pictures all pretty much look like foggy fish in water, so I’ll skip them.

We were exhausted by the time we arrived in Mae Hong Son, and even sitting in the front seat, I wasn’t feeling well. Which is probably why we made the mistake of staying at Jo’s Guest House, at the wat end of the night market. It didn’t seem so bad at first. We paid, showered, and went to the market, where we ate condensed milk roti to tide us over while we wandered through, up to the Fern Restaurant, a very classy place with live music and good food.

While listening to a young man with a lovely sweet voice sing, we ate: Stewed Pork Shan Style, Spicy fern salad, and chicken in pandanus leaves (just like what we’d made last week, and it was exactly the same). We shared a large Singha beer.

On the way back through the market, we stopped at the wat, where various ceremonies seemed to be going on. People were lighting more of the large lanterns like the other night, and others were placing little boats with candles and flowers to sail around a small carousel. We watched many of these things, and smiled at people. No one seemed to mind our presence, but in case we were intruding, we kept it short.

Then we headed back to the guest house and our bed. It dipped in the middle and our blankets were large towels. All folded, it hadn’t looked so bad. There were stains on the wall next to the bed, so I stayed in the middle. The curtains barely covered the windows, and I felt very self-conscious. It was difficult to sleep.

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Day 9. 27 Jan. 2011. Trying to chill.

Finally, we had a day scheduled for doing nothing. Obviously, we couldn’t do “nothing,” exactly. But we did wake up at noon, which felt like heaven. Then we went to Dada Kafe, recommended by Don and Paola, for smoothies and coffee. It was great to NOT eat gigantic quantities of food, for once.

I stayed there for quite a while, drinking coffee and hanging out, while Matt went next door to Gecko used books. He came back with a Thai phrasebook and a selection of crappy scifi, then we headed out to explore a little. We decided to walk in the direction of the train station, east of the city, while we talked over the options for getting back to Bangkok.

About halfway there, we realized that if we took the train back, we wouldn’t have time to meet up with Nik again, post-Mae Hong Son trip. That seemed rude, since he was paying for it, so we decided to fly.

From a street-side flower market, we passed through a Chinese temple and into the Watorot market. The temple was quite different from the Thai wats, and I really liked the figures on clouds along one wall facing the main entrance. We didn’t go inside.

Watorot market is a huge sprawling market, covered mostly, with 3 levels that I’m sure I saw. We were hunting for knives, directed there by Pon, but we never found any. Eventually we got tired of looking and headed into the streets around it.

After some time, we ended up in another wat, this one surrounded by animal figures, both realistic and fantastic, as well as some purely fictional, like Donald Duck. As I petted a cat sunning itself outside, a man walked up and asked how I liked Thai cats. We had a brief conversation with him during which we learned a couple of things: we were in Chinatown; and elderly Chinese people brought their pets here when they couldn’t care for them. We asked him if he lived nearby, and he explained that he was one of the architects renovating this wat. Very interesting!

We continued to wander, and then it was time to pick up the laundry we’d dropped off early in the day. There, the man asked us where we came from. We’ve learned over time that it’s much easier simply to tell people where we live, so that we only have one answer, which is therefore Amsterdam (vs. explaining that we are Americans from Minnesota and Washington State who live now in the Netherlands). This answer prompted him to switch to speaking Dutch with us, as it turns out that he is quite proficient in it, and travels regularly to the Netherlands. Fancy that! Matt decided to have him make him a suit, and was deliberating on that when the phone rang.

It was Don. He wanted to know if we wanted to join them for drinks and/or dinner. We had planned on calling them with the same offer, so we finished up the measurements and headed back to the Sparrow’s Nest. I needed a shower first, then we set out.

We ended up at a Tex-Mex place that had free popcorn. Don is apparently addicted to popcorn, so it was perfect. We started with some margaritas, and everyone had a little to eat. Then, walking a bit further, we passed a cocktail bike-wagon like the beer wagons I’ve seen in both Amsterdam and Minneapolis, except that this one wasn’t moving. We stopped and had more drinks, but left when we realized it was doubling as a gay pickup point and we didn’t really fit in. We headed to El Toro, which Paola and Don really liked, but then Don pointed out that Number One Bar was nearby, and had been recommended by our friend Pepijn, who was friendly with the staff. We ordered drinks and chatted with Toon and Ricy, both of whom remembered Pepijn and were glad to hear the relayed hello.

After a drink there, we drunkenly made our way over to El Toro, where Matt and Don bought drinks while Paola and I bought banana roti with chocolate and condensed milk from the stand outside. We got to the table to find they’d bought 2 bottles of SangSom Thai rum and a bottle of coke.

We finished it. Then staggered drunkenly and very much like obnoxious tourists back to the Sparrow’s Nest.

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Day 8. 26 Jan. 2011. Chiang Mai, revisited. Or rather, really visited.

What a day! Is it my imagination, or do we manage to cram more things into a single day than should really be possible?

We woke up, on time, for breakfast. Jennifer did her very best to give us a lighter breakfast this morning, but wasn’t very successful. We were served a pastry selection, smoked salmon, scrambled eggs, a yoghurt cup with mango and honey this time, and a fruit plate. Thankfully not another huge English breakfast, but still quite a lot.

Pon came over to check that noon would be a good time to take us into town, so we spent the time packing up and I relaxed by the pool while Matt worked on something on my iPad. Then it was time to go.

Pon had picked up prickly ash and Thai spring roll wrappers for us at the market, and we settled the last part of our bill. Then we drove to town, where we checked into the guest house that Don and Paola had recommended: Sparrow’s Nest Guest House. It’s more centrally located than SK House, although both are quite central. It’s more expensive, 700 baht per night, and the rooms are smaller, but they’re more private. In their own little garden in the alley behind the hotel (duong ch-something… Probably means sparrow’s nest), they are like mini vacation cottages. I really like the bamboo seat in the garden, and was reading there later until the mosquitos got too bad.

After checking in, we showered and sat around a bit. Then, just as we were getting ready for a wander and were in the process of texting Don to let them know we were also there, he showed up. Their room is 2 doors from ours. 🙂 he made some recommendations about where to walk, and we were just leaving when Pon showed up with our forgotten sweatshirts that we’d left at Sompon’s. Then we went for a walk.

Now we are staying in the same neighborhood the big Sunday night artisan market had been in, and it’s a nice and very busy place. There are numerous wats, free-range monks, schools, monks-in-schools, cafe’s, and all kinds of shops and tour agents. And massage studios, fish spas, bars, guest houses, hotels, street vendors, etc.

We went to a wat: Wat Sri-Kerd. Inside, Matt noticed the double Buddha effect. I think I’ve seen it in all of them, but now I’m not so sure. There are 2 giant buddhas, one behind and above the other, preceded by numerous smaller buddhas, in various rankings. This shrine also had a statue and photos of a bespectacled man in lotus position, represented at varying ages. The papers inside gave no indication of who specifically he is. I could make several plausible guesses, but I’ll spare us all the blind speculation for now.

There was also a funny box with two slots, which obviously requested a deposit of 5 or 10 baht, but I had no idea what for. So I put in 10 baht. A moment later all the lights spun crazily, but I still had no idea, so I took a picture to ask someone later.

We had coffee, then Matt had some street food next to a school, where only a group of workmen were eating. I sat in the shade like the workmen, squatted on the ground, while waiting for him.

After, Matt needed to use a full-sized computer, so while he was occupied there, I went around the corner to check out the fish spa. Basically, they have these low aquariums with many many little sucker fish. The fish eat dead skin and who knows what else off your feet while you sit there for about a half hour. It tickles, but not very much. Some of the fish are stronger than others, and you can really feel them as they make their way across your foot or ankle. If I spread my toes, they wriggled into the space and jostled for territory. If I thought too much about it while watching, it seemed kind of creepy. So I tried to think about how funny it was. And it really was. What a strange thing to do. I’ve heard about it before, even in Europe, but had never had the opportunity to try.

I had expected that Matt would have to come get me, but in fact I had to go find him at the internet cafe. Silly me: I’d underestimated my IT husband’s computer withdrawal. I think he would have been perfectly content to stay there all day!

We really liked the sweets shop, where all the snacks were stacked in tins. Pretty. Actually, sweets shops anywhere are pretty. It must be like working in a flower shop, surrounded daily by bright colored temptation.

We walked around for a while longer, then stopped at another pair of street stalls. I bought an iced drink and Matt picked up some fried miscellaneous things. Chicken, quail eggs in wonton wrappers, some kind of fish he spit out, and something else I don’t remember. We carried these back to the guest house, where we found Paola on her computer in the hotel lobby.

After a short rest, I decided to join the yoga lesson in the studio in the back garden. It’s been probably about 10 years since I last practiced yoga, but I’m generally pretty strong and flexible, so I figured what the hell. I need to work off some of Sompon and Jennifer’s food anyway. Matt napped, and Paola, Don and I joined the instructor and one other student.

An hour later I was smelly and pleased with myself, and there was just enough time to shower before Nik picked us up for dinner.

Dr. Nik (I don’t know his last name) was one of Matt’s dad’s students, back in the early/mid ’90’s. We met him in 2008 or so when he spoke at the first Robert Feigal Symposium (Matt should explain this, not me). He’s from Chiang Mai originally, so a few days before we traveled, we got in touch with him. Turns out, Chiang Mai being the small town it is, he also used to be the dentist for Sompon’s children.

Nik took us to his favorite restaurant, an open air seafood restaurant nearly in the Kalare night bazar. The staff all knew him, and the owner, an older woman with a wide smile and a lot of lipstick, came over to joke with him and say hello. The restaurant had a shallow trough running decoratively through it, and it was full of gorgeous and gigantic langoustines, which were certainly being scooped out to provide supper!

Nik chose everything, with our encouragement. This involved talking at length with our waitress, with quick asides to us. We had fresh mango shakes, Tom yum shrimp (sorry I forget what shrimp is in Thai, but I know it’s not gai, because that’s chicken; anyway, spicy shrimp soup), shrimp in chili jam, fried whole fish with a light sweet and sour sauce, soft shelled crabs in a pale yellow mellow curry (our favorite of the night), and cellophane noodles with grilled shrimp and a salsa-like green sauce for pouring over. Delicious! We offered to pay, especially as Nik had already offered to subsidize a Friday-Saturday adventure to Mae Hong Son, to see Lon cave, including eyeless fish, but he wouldn’t let us. He said our money’s no good here, and that he wouldn’t let the staff accept it. Besides, he seems to have a game going with the owner, where he tries to guess the cost of the meal. He said once he was only 10 baht off, which is pretty amazing since I’m not sure how closely our meal corresponded to the menu.

Nik was, unsurprisingly, a wonderful person to have met with. We vaguely remembered that from meeting him before. He’s incredibly enthusiastic about everything, warm, and very generous. I feel a little weird accepting his generosity, but I got the impression he would brook no argument. Matt says that it’s probably to do with his dad, and how well he cared for his international students. So, on Friday morning, a driver will pick us up from our guest house to drive us west.

Having started late for dinner due to Nik’s work schedule, it was also late by the time we were done eating. Matt suggested we walk home, rather than letting Nik drive us, which gave us the opportunity to stop in at C.E.C. Loikroh boxing stadium, where Don had mentioned he’d be watching Muay Thai this evening.

The stadium was in a pretty seedy part of town, or so I thought at the time. In daylight, it’s pretty normal. It’s in the center of a collection of small bars filled with girls and lady boys. We found a relatively quiet section, and ordered drinks while settling in to watch the fights. We saw 3 and one more that was more of a closing clown show than a real match.

The first was between a very muscular young man with a dark face and a friendly expression, and a slightly less muscular, paler young man. It wasn’t very exciting, but I was rooting for the muscular one and he won. I chose him because he was kind of funny when doing his warm-up stretches.

The second match was awesome. I had a hard time choosing which one I’d root for, but in the end I decided on the one in the white shorts. These two were extremely well-matched, and so it went on for quite a while. There were many excellent blows and kicks landed by both fighters.

Oh, I have I mentioned that I studied Muay Thai for about 6 years? I wasn’t very good in such a short time, but it gives me a pretty good sense of what I’m watching. By the end of the first fight I was feeling pretty enthusiastic, and remembering more of what I’m seeing.

Anyway, the second match. Good hits by both sides meant that I was not at all sure that I’d chosen the right guy, but in the end, he hit his opponent well enough that he went down against the ropes and stayed down. Stayed down so long, in fact, that several extra people jumped into the ring and my guy, white shorts, was also there, helping him up. He supported his opponent from the ring, before returning to thank the crowd. Here’s a picture of them earlier in the fight:

There was one more match (real match). These ones were taller. The more muscular one didn’t stretch or warm up at all, pre-match, so I chose the other guy. They were much more vicious, landing extremely hard kicks, punches and elbows from the very start. The one I’d selected had a grin on his face the entire time, but it was an angry grin, or so it seemed to me. He was slightly smaller, but he had better control. For a while, though, that didn’t seem to matter, because the bigger guy got in some really rough ones, including a time while they were locked, kneeing each other repeatedly in the ribs. In the end, however, my guy prevailed. But it was so mean by that point that I had mixed feelings as I clapped and cheered.

3 for 3, the fights were clearly over. All the Thai people left, and the last winner went around with a donation box (we’d also paid entry) while a older guy who’d been clowning around with the audience entered the ring with a young wiry guy. The waitresses and lady-boy waitresses dragged the chairs back to their bars while these 2 held a match that reminded me of world wrestling federation, lots of fake tosses, including over the ropes. It was fun and silly, but it was time to go.

We walked back to the guest house, cleaned up, and went to bed. Good night!

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Day 7. 25 Jan. 2011. A wander in the neighborhood then master class in the evening.

We didn’t set the alarm last night. It retrospect, we probably should have told Jennifer. She waited for us for breakfast. Last night there was a sound like someone taking a ridiculous long shower. Turn out the water boiler had burst. Overnight there was no water, and in the morning only cold. I washed with a cloth, since I hate cold showers.

Matt took leftover salad with him downstairs, planning to ask simply for a fork and plate to eat it with, but Jennifer offered food and so with some protest, we also got yoghurt with strawberries and maple syrup. Yum. But I still wasn’t hungry. I didn’t have the salad, just the yoghurt and some water.

Then we slathered on the sunscreen and asked to use the bicycles. Silly us; it was about noon. Hot hot hot! We were just getting ready to leave when Pon ran over to explain the bikes to us (typical oma fietsen) and check the tires. He decided we needed more air, pumped us up, made us demonstrate that we understood how to use the wheel lock, and then we set off.

We rode around the maze-like subdivision for a while, before stumbling on the front gate. We left the bikes there by the gatehouse with other bikes, and walked across the road to the market. It was nearly empty today. We’d been there the other night to get cash and it was packed. Today there were only a few stalls open. We walked down to a coffee cafe at the end of the adjacent strip mall, then wandered around the stalls briefly.

Behind the market, we saw another pleasant looking residential neighborhood, this one not gated, so we walked around in it for a while. Following up on our conversation about daily religion, we noticed that every yard or garden has a shrine of various size. These are always clearly tended with new incense and other fresh offerings, so clearly there is daily religious practice here.

We passed a free-range monk, then a medium sized wat complex. We wandered a little longer through the neighborhood before turning back.

The subdivision Sompon lives in is a big maze. We bicycled around it for a long time before we were able to find the house. There was enough time to shower (cold again) and relax before our class began.

Tonight we were the only students. First we made 3 pastes. Jennifer came out and chatted a bit with us as well. She was a tv chef in Beijing herself! Fusion Chinese.

After the pastes, we prepared:

Yummy pepper leaf appetizer- like the galloping horse of the night before, but more coconut.
Bombay curry- mild and tasty
White fish in curry and banana leaf- Sompon says he’s never taught anyone this one before. He will have to handwrite the recipe for us. Jennifer says it’s her favorite.
Beef salad- yum…
Minced meat patties on lemongrass skewers- yum again. Probably my favorite tonight.

After we cooked, Sompon and Jennifer left to go out for a belated birthday celebration, and we went to find Sue and Barbara to invite them to eat our feast with us. That helped. We nearly cleaned the plates this time!

There’s a new set of guests who’ve arrived. Australians named Lisa and Tom, brother and sister. They were enjoying their gourmet dinner as we padded upstairs to bed.

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