Dear Family and Friends,

As the air began to heat and the sun rose this morning on Chang Mai, the sun lowered itself across the New York horizon while the UN Security Counsel voted unanimously on a Middle East cease-fire resolution. Darkness had already fallen on the warily crouched Israelis and Lebanese. It was also dark in London where the other terrifying news of arrested would-be bombers is reverberating. CNN told the world + me all of this over breakfast – and then twice played an advertisement to visit Thailand in the golden year of 2006. Is this metaphorical? Anyway, as an explorer turned student turned tourist in Thailand, I do not often encounter quality news. The English edition of the Bangkok Post is full of articles about what the Thai King, Queen and family have been up to, the latest on the corruption of current caretaker PM Thaksin Shinuwatra, or about robin hood-like grave diggers who collect and donate money supposed to have been burned to accompany dead relatives. There is little about the US and the rest of the world – which admittedly is only fair as I’m sure that US papers print even less about Thailand than Thailand prints on us. On the television front, BBC headline news can be switched on at W House although I rarely find this informative; perhaps it is the hour that I generally switch it on (morning) but I find this particular station short on actual news and heavy on touting what you could see later on (although the reports, when played, are quite good). While in school, a friend could be found on the Web daily to catch the latest football or cricket scores (there was a great deal of boy-ribbing when England and Pakistan began their 7-day cricket match) and from his example + logic I know that I must learn to sit down and read the main news articles. Although I adore computers, I do so hate reading anything that requires concentration from a computer screen – especially news articles with inch-wide columns and flashing advertisements. *sigh*

Two sun raises have occurred since my train pulled into the station at Chang Mai. Riding the Thai rails was a mixed experience. After loosing several arguments with taxi drivers in the W House soi, a driver promised me a meter and then almost broke his back lifting my suitcase into the cab. And to think, I left a heavier bag at W House for safe-keeping. In fact, I’m still trying to figure out: what in the dickens is so heavy about my suitcase? Granted, it is big and nearly full but I didn’t bring an especial number of books so I’m beginning to suspect that clothing + quilt + large amount drug store goods (sun screens, conditioners, face washes, Imodium?) are cumulatively heavier than they appear. Bear in mind if you please – I packed for a year! Anyway, the taxi efficiently had me at the bustling rail station about 40 minutes before my train. I had to await the departure of another train before my own so I stood on the platform with my backpack + suitcase, picked up Harry Potter and then admonished myself to drink in the sights and sounds of the Bangkok train station. I did. And then I picked up my book. And then I dug out my camera. And then I picked up Harry Potter again. My brain was in high gear due to nerves. Even though I was calm on the outside and logical part of my brain knew that I could handle difficulties, the other half of my brain raced nervously. At about 8:20 (my own train was scheduled to depart at 8:30), a musical tone sounded and a capped, dark uniformed man with lots of gold buttons at the back of the train stuck his torso out of a window, waved a green flag, and the train previous to mine departed.

My train soon pulled in. It was a faded yellow and shiny metal-colored 3-car affair that appeared to missing an engine that immediately got a good scrub by two men with brushes and a widely spraying hose, while we passengers crowded the car entrances. Not that I was particularly worried about how the train would be compelled into motion because I was mentally examining the necessary angles for forcing my heavy suitcase up the narrow car entrance. In the end, I shoved it from the bottom and the nicest Thai lady (a passenger, actually) helped me from the top. My suitcase obviously wouldn’t fit on the top shelf above the passenger seats so the nicely uniformed train attendant (really, a flight attendant in uniform and behavior) pointed to a space behind two seats. Later I found my suitcase under two other equally heavy pink suitcases and felt marginally less sheepish. Marginally. Anyway, the seats were in pairs with an aisle between so I found my assigned aisle seat, dryly noted the majority of foreigners (although there were plenty of Thais), and sat down to absorb the sights outside when I realized a problem. You see, I had had two hopes for this 12-hour train journey: the ability to use a toilet with a door and to see a good bit of the Thai country-side. However, I was to be disappointed in the latter hope because I found the train windows covered with a band-aid-like mesh that almost completely obliterated the outside view - no doubt to repel sunlight heat. Amusingly, my favorite time on the train became my visits to the swaying little dirty toilet room – with its open window, magnificent breezes and breath-taking views of the countryside. But one can only spend so much time in the restroom – especially as there were 37 other passengers that may need to use it. If I can hack it on the way back, I may take a 3rd class train – sans air conditioning and with plenty of humidity – but with wind from open windows and that would afford hope-for views. We’ll see about that.

Anyway, as our train departed upon a musical set of tones, I realized that the train engine was actually in the passenger car; I’ve counted 80 + cars in the States – the power requirements are likely not quite the same. A khaki uniformed ticket taker with gold buttons came through to punch our tickets and until the first stop, I dreamed of having two seats to myself when an early-middle-aged Thai man with smooth forearms, jeans, and a yellow and maroon plaid shirt politely motioned to me that he was assigned to the window seat. He sat and unhurriedly, the train steadily made its way North, swaying to and fro. I kept glancing out the window in hopes that I could magically see better and finished off the first Harry Potter and was well into the second by the time lunch rolled around.

Lunch caused excitement for two reasons: firstly, we were delivered a warm, flat, plastic Tupperware-like dish with a large rectangular compartment for rice and two smaller spaces for cooled, panko-covered fried chicken and 3 medallions of what looked to be mushrooms smothered in a brown sauce that included melted carrots, onions. The medallions turned out to be cross-wise parts of a fish body – bones still in. I ate sparingly and imagined the reaction of someone that cannot delve into unidentified food. But the real lunch-time entertainment turned out to be the show: my seatmate discovered an unnatural liquid dripping down the metal train compartment wall. He informed the train stewardess, who gestured me & my backpack into the aisle while he and she followed the liquid to its source: a carry-on bag belonging to the broad-faced, older Thai lady behind us. The stewardess ran away and came back with two rolls of toilet paper that my seatmate gamely used to wipe the liquid. The Thai lady watched as they pulled the drippy bag down and placed it next to her (and me!) in the aisle. In the meanwhile, I uselessly watched and noticed from the corner of my eye that a tall, tanned man in an expensive-looking sports jersey had pulled out a Sony digital camera and had started filming. He kept moving around, practically sitting on other passengers to find a better angle (did he think he was going to catch this month’s winning entry in Australia’s funniest home videos????) while I restrained myself from snapping and instead sent him cold waves of antipathy. He was oblivious to me then and later when he unfolded his long limbs into the vacated seat in front of me. Eventually, things got cleaned up, and the bag got moved (I spent a long while being paranoid about the possible smell implications) and the rude man was disappointed that nothing more exciting than a tp cleanup had occurred.

The afternoon proved uneventful and I finished the second Harry Potter plus two job-hunting books. As we stopped, the train car began to empty. From the tiny uncovered windows, I could see the country-side becoming dense with foliage and more hills. The sun turned a hole in the clouds orange and day turned into night. My seatmate got off. And unhurriedly, the train continued North, swaying to and fro. My remaining entertainment was a text book on fiction writing and I finished two chapters before I grew desperate for something else so I re-read old journal entries, did some clustering exercises, and finally resorted to my laptop and the DVD of Shakespeare in Love that I had started during packing. With headphones, I watched it for the last bit of the ride – occasionally chuckling out loud and careful to not scandalize the people around me by forwarding through the love scenes. The arrival in the Chang Mai station was obvious and due to possible suitcase difficulties, I was the last person our of the car so I had time to notice the train attendants rotating the seats 180 degrees and concluded that they rotate seats not the trains for the southbound journey. I tugged my suitcase along, fielded many “taxi, madame?” inquiries until I found someone that recognized Smile House and was willing to take me there. The driver tugged my suitcase on board (oh, sir, sorry, sorry) while I climbed into the back of a truck that had been converted into a tuk-tuk with bench seats on both sides, a simple roof overhead and space for air to blow through. I was the only passenger and folded my arms and stuck my face out the pseudo-window to see the city. I recognized other passengers in a similar tuk tuk and while we had not talked on the train, we gave each other friendly waves as we were driven together and then apart on the Chang Mai streets. I was delivered to the Smile House (guesthouse), I checked in for two nights with a pleasant girl at the front desk, tugged my suitcase to room number 4, inserted the key into the lock and placed my suitcase in the room. I carried my backpack to a table near the swimming pool and prevailed upon the lady to bring me some Thai green chicken curry and rice. It soon arrived and was delicious – especially as I hadn’t really eaten since lunch and had wrongly supposed that I could buy snacks along the way.

I returned to my room, a place with smooth wood floors, dark wood furniture, two twin beds with comfy mattresses illuminated by a single long florescent bulb. But the closet was dirty as was the bathroom: with little dead bugs littering the tray near the sink, a tiled floor with some gunk, and a TP-spraying shower. I began to frown because even before my arrival, I had feared that Smile House was not going to work – but my friend had mentioned the place as being “ok” and Lonely Planet informs one that “Smile House offers rooms in an old Thai House surrounded by a row of new rooms. The charming outdoor eating area [next to the pool] is a plus...” This sounded promising; however, the prices listed in Lonely Planet were quite a bit lower than what they charged me and while I’m not terribly picky regarding décor, I haven’t gotten to the point that I can tolerate an unnecessarily dirty bathroom for days on end. The bed seemed fine and I tucked myself in for a decent night’s sleep – which I got – with a few notable exceptions. Several roosters and barking dogs greeted the dawn. I awoke but didn’t much mind. But what I most definitely minded was that my air conditioner began to heavily drip and I awoke to splashes falling all over the bedside table, all over my precious iPod. Luckily, my iPod resides in a protective skin and I found it ok – but as I was wiping my iPod dry, I determined that another guesthouse would be in order.

So the next day, I slept in and finished the third Harry Potter and then began my usual new city first step by exploring. I skipped showering when I realized that I had no towels and took my laptop with me when I realized that I didn’t feel safe leaving it… and I had brunch at a Café intended for heavy-pocket ex-pats with a health fetish (good to have a source for emergency salads) because I couldn’t resist the allure of a smoked salmon sandwich. I also had a long talk with the friendly waitress, who upon noticing my meal-time studying of the Lonely Planet and learning that I was new to Chang Mai, told me about Chang Mai and some of its must-see places. High on my list for the day were a walk around Chang Mai, bookstores where I could find read up on Japan & Korea, an Internet café, and to literally look in at other guesthouses. The bathroom was my litmus test. Anyway, I easily found 2 bookstores - as far as I can tell, Chang Mai is filled with small by our standards bookstores with mostly used books of all varieties: the expected cheap paperbacks as well as deep tomes on Buddhist philosophy and plenty of almost-irresistible paperbacks by Bill Bryson, Paul Coehlo, Paul Thoreaoux, Toni Morrison, Jan Morris not to mention Dan Brown, JK Rowling and many other authors and books that I should love to read. These stores are infinitely more dangerous for me than any “old market” filled with textiles. And I confess that I bought a paperback mystery and a map of Chang Mai. I spent some time in one Internet café and passed by dozens more that provide both Internet access (I’m still searching for wireless) and reasonably priced overseas calls – which will be important starting next week. As for the guesthouses, I found plenty cheaper ones that might do but the bathrooms were… well, still not there in the cleanliness arena. Finally, I returned to my room, opened my new map and found the other guesthouse that my friend had recommended. I walked there, found it 50 THB more than Smile House – which was still more than I wanted to spend in Chang Mai but cheaper than W House in Bangkok. The bathroom was satisfactory, the room was very clean and even sported a desk for my laptop so I made a reservation for the two following nights. We’ll see after that.

In the deepening twilight on the road to Smile House, I stopped by a restaurant that looked promising – and that my artist-rendered non-advertising map clearly cherished (I had to use the restaurant in place of my guesthouse for navigational purposes). Called The Wok, the restaurant is a traditional Thai house with an open air patio covered with a robust tin roof, lined pretty plants and decorated by white string of lights. The waiter and I immediately fell into teasing each other and although the prices were higher than I usually pay for dinner, I was not sorry to sit down to a wonderful meal of chicken with panadus leaves and red smoked duck curry – two of the dishes that I recognized from my cooking class. For the record, our cooking class food was a smidge better – but my meal was truly delicious. Just after I placed my order, splatters hit the tin roof before becoming an all-out deluge through most of dinner… Luckily, it had mostly petered out by the time I had finished and sought the bill. I popped into an art gallery, lost my heart to a few paintings, walked by a few restaurants that I may want to later try, and returned to my room. I found that my room had not been cleaned that day and that I continued to have no towels. I was not happy – I ended up asking for a towel at the front desk but could not make myself shower amongst the dirty shower and even reconsidered my planned next-morning swim because I had seen no one in the pool and I didn’t think that pool cleanliness standards would be any better than my bathroom. All in all, not a good experience but I didn’t complain (i.e. give them a chance to fix it) and it could’ve been worse – and perhaps I had bad luck or too high of standards. Dunno – but I suspect that there are better places for the price paid.

Anyway, I’m now comfortably settled in a slightly posh guesthouse called Paddy Fields. We’ll see if this is where I stay… it is on the outskirts of this town walled in by a moat… it may be a bit further away from the center of town but I now have the ability to walk and don’t at all mind the incentive. As always, I’m going to need a few more days of exploration and deep thought before I’m ready to describe Chang Mai.

To return to today’s news, the US State Department is warning tourists regarding terrorism in India – a country that I am determined to visit – mostly likely next summer when my Indian friend returns home. By then, with any luck, terrorism will have simmered down. Happily, while no stars can be found in Bangkok, I expect a few in smaller, less electrified Chang Mai. I shall wish upon the next first star that appears for a world of diminished hatred. (And for the record, this is not a clichéd promise, I’ve been alternately wishing on stars for years – generally for world peace or to end world hunger or for me to win Lotto. No need for any of you to ask how that is working for me…).

Fond regards to one and all,

Laura