Trains are ok. They really are. But when they try to be something they’re not (ie. a bed) they ultimately suck. They really do. Sleeping on that carriage was like laying in half a single bed with a bunch of kids on Ritalin jumping up and down on either side. So I spent at least 10 hours laying awake trying not to throw up. The Thai whisky and beer probably didn’t help either.
We were actually right next to what was the ‘disco carriage’ on the train, which played Venga Boys and YMCA while serving beer in 1.6 litre bottles. So we were kept entertained until about 10pm when we all tried to fall asleep, failing miserably.
We arrived at Chiang Mai in northern Thailand at about 8am and felt much better after a big breakfast. Technically we could do whatever we wanted today, but it was a unanimous decision led by a whole-hearted whisky toast the night before, that we would ride elephants before we left Thailand.
Sakai arranged the transport and a guide, and we were so excited we could barely contain ourselved the whole way there. And they were gorgeous. It was two people per elephant, so Kate and Ihopped onto the back of one armed with a bunch of bananas for bribery purposes and set off on the track.
Except this elephant didn’t want to follow it’s handler on the track, did it. So we hung precariously to the seat with a small chain holding us in while it ignored the handler and kind of plodded along some unknown path into the bush. Which was kind of funny, and out Thai handler giggled and kept shaking his head. Trust me to choose the rogue elephant.
Once we had run out of bananas though, our cute little elephant seemed to get quite angry, and snorted at us while whipping our feet with it’s ears. Now, I have health insurance, but I doubted at that frantic moment whether it covered loss and damage due to ‘elephant on a rampage’. It set off into a jog (do elephants jog?) and came up to a tree-house filled with buckets of bananas. The Thai handler was yelling at this stage, hitting the elephant with a kind of pick (and still giggling) while trying to catch us up to everyone else, who’s elephants were quite demure in comparison, riding in a long straight line further down the track.
Our elephant trumpeted in anger, tossed aside a few of the buckets with it’s trunk, stole sevaral large bunches of bananas, and stormed off, leaving our guide 2 storeys up in a tree platform, still giggling, and us screaming with terror and laughing hysterically down the mountain. By ourselves. With no handler and a rogue elephant. God it was fun.
After our elephant adventure, we changed and head off to the Chiang Mai women’s prison. Their rehabilitation program is one of the most respected in Thailand and involved teaching the women(amongst other things) to practise Thai massage so they could earn a living after they are released. And apparently their massages were the best kept secret in Thailand, so we checked it out. And it was the best massage ever. Amazing. The girls giggled, laughed and talked so much that we wondered how any of them could commit a crime, and asked Sakai what they were in for. Apparently for some it’s prostitution, other for saying a bad word against the King (even stepping on a flyaway Baht note is punishable with a jail term, as you are stepping on the King’s head). But we decided they were all lovely and left the jail feeling stretched and relaxed. And kind of glad we weren’t wearing yellow so they didn’t confuse us for prisoners and let us leave.
The early evening was spent at Wat Phrathat on the mountain of Doi Suthep. According to legend, holy relics discovered during the reign of King Kuena (1355-1385) were placed in a howdah on the back of a white elephant, which carried t5hem up the mountain before dropping dead from fatigue. The king built the temple to store the remains and the site has since been expanded to include a monastery where monks and nuns live and work on either side of the temple (at the top of 300-odd stairs which killed our nicely massaged legs). Monks are the highest level of person in Thailand, even higher than the royal family, and every make is encouraged to become a monk at some point in their life. There were small boys there on a school holiday program (getting it over and done with early, I guess) and we were lucky enough to be able to kneel before a monk and have white string tied to our wrists (right for men, left for women) as good luck and a wish for happiness.As he was tying the string, he was smiling and mumbling what sounded to me like “happy-happy-lucky-lucky-best-wishes-to-you-happy-happy-lucky-lucky”. It may have been more serious and complex than that, but I doubt it.
If the string fell off within three days, we had to hang it from a tree or something higher than us, or we could keep it on for as long as we wanted. It wasn’t a touristy area of the temple and in fact very few people ever have that experience. I personally am keeping mine on until everyone asks me where I got the string and what it is for, so I can casually drop in that a Buddist monk in Thailand blessed me with luck and happiness. Very casually. Nothing to it really. Just a good contact, you know how it is.
We watched the chanting of the monks and nuns at 6pm and walked back down the stairs to fresh strawberries and dinner at a local seafood restaurant, whose main selling point on all it’s signage was fried chicken. Of course.
-Sarah
Sarah