Mysterious Mountains and Flamingos

Feb. 10-11

First thing on Thursday, the 10th, Joanna got her massage. Her back, her neck, her feet, everything that had been stiff or sore felt relaxed and painless, she told me.

We took lunch at the Safe House, which has an open-air restaurant. Joanna saw a strange-sounding combination and ordered it—pumpkin, egg, and tofu. I tried noodles with vegetables and a vegetarian sauce. I squeezed a slice of lime over it, and it was both savory and sweet. As often happens, my dish was made without chilis, like Joanna’s. Or maybe it’s supposed to come like that.

I added what I believe was ground tamarind mixed with red pepper flakes and a little soy sauce. That made it very good.

We went to the city culture center, which is at the plaza where the three kings are. That’s when we enountered the mystery of the missing flamingos.

Not only the kings’ flamingos, but the plants, soil, and planters too had disappeared without leaving a mark behind. And they had looked like permanent fixtures.

Maybe they were out for the flower festival, which ended a few days ago.

We toured the city museum, where we discovered that the three kings on the monument were not the succession of a dynasty, but the king of Chiang Mai and two allies, who together secured and founded the city.

Museum walking is far more tiring than walking the sidewalk or even a shopping mall. So we needed a break.

We crossed the street to a fruit drink shop. Joanna had mixed fruit, thick as pudding. It included passion fruit, apple, mango, at least. I had some kind of tea, the name of which I forget, mixed with apple and perhaps a little honey. One end of the straw was shaped like a cocaine spoon for eating the chunks of fruit.

Which reminds me: the other day we walked into one of the many souvenir bazaars, and there on the counter was an opium pipe. I showed it to Joanna, who laughed out loud.

She knew all about it. When she was a little girl in China, her father used to entertain his friends over pipes of opium. She used to fill the pipes for him and fall asleep in his lap with a contact high.

We traipsed over to the U.N. where Joanna watched me drink beer. She was still full from the slushy fruit drink, so she wasn’t ready for a coconut. We started talking about dinner and decided to come back for meat pies.

We went to 7-eleven for soy milk and other essentials. dropped them at the hotel and then came back to the U.N.

The meat pies are terrific there. This time Joanna had the Guinness beef pie and I had steak and onion. The pies are small, about the size of the old Morton’s meat pies that I used to buy frozen at the supermarket.

In my college days, I used to pop one right out of the freezer into the oven and usually forget about it until it smoked. Then I’d eat all but the charred bits.

Maybe supermarkets still sell those pies. I haven’t looked for them in years.

We took a walk afterwards around the block. We went to the light at the corner, turned left, and walked maybe 200 meters to the next light. Another left and about 300 meters brought us to the south end of our soi.

We passed bars, of course, but also offices selling day trips for riding elephants, ziplining in a monkey forest, and whitewater rafting. We also passed four temple complexes, and each of them may be older than any church standing in New Jersey.

The streets are narrow and during the day they are crowded with vendors selling coconut, mango, and even durian. When we walk past a stand with that last one, I am glad it is wrapped in plastic and that the wrapper doesn’t break. There are places where you are not permitted to eat durian indoors.

It’s my general rule that if a number of people consider it food, then I should try it. I have eaten snails, raw fish, chilis, and bugs, and found them ranging from interesting to downright delicious. I have enjoyed parts of chickens, pigs, and cows that are usually thrown out at home.

Durian is one of my exceptions to the rule. It smells like serious trouble with the plumbing.

But durian aside, we love this town. I love it as much as I love London, which has much better beer. I love it as much as I love Paris, which has wine and where the food is as good as Chiang Mai’s, but no better.

Thursday, the 11th, marks one week in Chiang Mai. After her experience with the masseuse, Joanna recommended a massage to me. I was reluctant to take a whole hour getting a rubdown, but she said I should try it. So I did, while she went to check on the tailor and get the key, which we had locked in the room.

I had never had a professional massage before and was actually a bit nervous.

It started with the lady washing my feet. It tickled but I tried not to laugh.

Next I took my shirt and trousers off and lay under a towel. She started with my feet. Once in a while the old break in my left foot would theaten to hurt, but then it was fine. Don’t know how she did that.

Later she did my calves and back with oil. From time to time the friction heated the oil, especially when she used her forearms for the massage.

She did my chest and the front of my legs, and then washed her hands before she massaged my head.

All in all, it felt pretty damned good. The head massage was curious. At one point, the masseuse’s fingertips were resting on my eyelids when she worked on my temples wth her thumbs. At the end, she gave my temples a hard push with her fingers.

I felt pretty good when it was over. I can’t usually tell the difference between relaxing and coming down with something. The sensations are usually too similar to distinguish between them.

But after it was all over, I sat on the porch to put my shoes on and was pretty sure I wasn’t getting sick.

We were ready for lunch, and went back to Soi 4 and the Bodhi Tree Cafe. We were waited on by a farang with a French accent. When he came up to the table, we thought he was a customer who wanted to use the empty table where we had put our hats.

Joanna tried the pad Thai ma pet, and more pumpkin, this time sauteed with basil. I wanted to make sure I got a proper dose of heat and asked for the red curry, medium hot.

I love Thai food. Most spicy cuisines—Indian, Mexican, Szechuan—tend to have a narrow range of flavors. In my limited experience, Thai has wider variety. Green curry doesn’t taste like red curry. Pad Thai doesn’t taste like the curries at all. And we’re discovering many other dishes.

And then, we can always default to Farang food, of which there is no shortage here. I mean, Brit-style meat pies on Rathvithi Road. Or Italian on Ratchapakhinai.

As we came down a soi, we saw the peak of a mountain in the distance. it was closer to the city than I expected. We could make out the earthen color of it.

I led Joanna towards it, because I hoped to get to the moat and maybe have a better look. A few hundred meters farther, we realized it wasn’t a mountain at all, but Chedi Luang, the Great Pagoda, which we had visited the other day.

We were coming from a different angle and the appearance was entirely different. Standing by itself against the sky takes away all hints of scale or distance and fooled me completely. And I hadn’t even had a beer yet.

It was getting hot, so we took a tuk-tuk ride back to the hotel.

Joanna wanted Italian for dinner, so it was back to Girasole. She had penne in a red sauce with crab meat. I had penne, too. (I was wearing a fresh white shirt.) The sauce had lumps of tomato and slices of green and black olives. I’m not sure what else was in there, but I may try to make a copy of it some day.

We took a short stroll to let dinner settle and then came back to the hotel for the night.

And I’m wishing everyone a good night, and happy eating.

Harry

Feb. 12

Your report on Chiang Mai really makes me wish I was there.

But at least Anna is going to arrive on the 22nd from India.

I know she loves a good massage. Could you tell her the name and address of the massage place you guys went to?

And names of some of the restaurants you liked?

Also, will you still be there then?

Charlie 

Feb. 13

We're leaving on the morning of the 24th.

Eden is around the corner from the Boonthavon, on Moon Muang Soi 5. Great French and Thai food. A soi is a narrow lane that branches off a main street. The main streets are named on maps and the sois are usually identified by a number. The spellings of the street names vary, but generally you can identify all the variants.

Moon Muang Soi 5 crosses Rachadamnone Soi 5 a block from the U.N. Irish Pub and bakery. The U.N. is on a street called Ratvithi, or Ratwithi. The meat pies, especially the beef and onion and the Guinness, are terrific there. So is the bread. 

Larry says the quiche is also good, but we haven't tried it yet.

The masseuse operates a shop called Lavender. It is right across from the Boonthavon on Rachadamnone Soi 1. The grilled fish place is also in the same lane, a little closer to the main road.

Archer's is on Ratchapakinai Road, near the end of Moon Muang Soi 5. The Thai food is good and so is the English breakfast. They put out a roast on Sunday that looks good, but we haven't had that.

Girasole, the Italian restaurant, is farther south on the same road. It is next to Wawee Coffee, which holds the corner spot.

Bodhi Tree Cafe, Thai vegetarian and vegan, is on Rachadamnone Road Soi 4, right next to a temple complex.

So far, just about anyplace we walk into here has good food.

Harry

Feb. 14

Thank you so much for sharing your experiences and your insights. 

I arrive on the morning of the 23rd. I'd love to meet for dinner that night if you and Joanna are free. I'm happy to meet anywhere! 

All of your suggestions seem great and I'm so looking forward to trying all these restaurants. 

Hope your journeys today are going well and let me know if dinner on the 23rd works!

Anna 

Feb. 14

Harry,

Your gastronomic adventures are fascinating and so is your eating philosophy. You have a lot of guts.

What is Durian, by the way?

Peter

Feb. 14

It's a big green fruit covered with little points. It looks innocent enough until you cut it open.

It smells like an outhouse that has seen hard use.

Harry

Feb. 15

Ugh!

Peter