More charades; more rubbish sightseeing
For what was to turn out to be my Very Last Sightseeing Expedition Of All Time, I had narrowed Chiang Mai’s attractions to two choices: the insect museum or the foreign cemetery. One charges admission, the other doesn’t. Decision made. It was the same cheapskate mentality that led me to walk there since it only looked to be about a mile and a half, tops.
Let’s just say that a mile and half through the midday heat (going at midday so I could get there & back before the afternoon downpour) and exhaust (if the PM wants to do something about the peoples’ happiness he should slap some vehicle emission regulations on them)…well, it felt more like one thousand and a half miles.
Just when I thought I was probably about to die (not a small irony, being a foreigner who dies on a walk to the foreign cemetery, right?), I stepped into a restaurant to ask how much further it was. No one spoke English. No problem. I pulled out the guidebook and showed them the Thai translation of the name. They conferred among themselves and waved in the direction I was already walking and then motioned to turn left. I nodded and smiled so they’d think they were being helpful, which they weren’t, because I already knew it was somewhere in the general direction I was walking and then to the left. What I needed to know was how much further.
First I tried the Western hand signal for ‘very far’, at which they nodded and smiled and repeated it. But of course our ‘very far’ hand signal is the same as their ‘that-a-way’ hand signal, so that was a dumb idea on my part. I tried again – first holding my hands apart very wide and then very close together, all the while making questioning noises. No good. We all looked at each other, a bit stuck.
Until I hit on it – I walked in place, very down-trodden and exhausted and trooping along like I’d been walking for ages, wiping the sweat from my brow. Whereupon they promptly all burst into laughter. Yes, I said laughing along with them, I am really funny aren’t I, especially with physical comedy? They nodded enthusiastically. It was fantastic.
But anyway, my charades worked. One of the men held up five fingers. I suspected it meant 5 minutes, which turned out to be the case.
The Chiang Mai Foreigners Cemetery, like most other things that sound interesting, wasn’t. I walked through the white gate, past the deserted caretaker’s house, and sort of stood in the middle of a small, green cemetery with my hands on my hips. This is it? Then I took a step forward and promptly tipped over at the sound of a feline scream coming from underfoot. You must be able to guess what comes next. Yes, I stepped on a cat…a black cat…in a cemetery. I am not making this up, I swear. (“Seven more years bad luck, you say? No problem, just add it to my tab!”)
Then I looked at some boring gravestones and a statue of Queen Victoria or someone sent as a gift from India, and then I walked all the way back through the nauseating heat and fumes, and got back to my guesthouse just as the first drops of rain started to fall. The end.
This is it. No more sightseeing after today. Not even if someone swears there is a troupe of monkeys in tuxedo outfits giving away free cold beers, and they’re only two blocks away. Not even then.
Tags: Chiang Mai, Thailand
sandra_101
AGAIN, a welcome morning coffee read! While I would’ve gone for the insect museum for sure, I am gleeful that you chose the cemetery and stepped on a black cat! Hells bells, as my mom would say!!! I only wish I could’ve seen it with my own two eyes…
http://www.losanjealous.com/nfc/
I completely laughed out loud after reading about your pantomime!