two days and two journeys

I've travelled a fair distance since my last blog, and find myself, slightly ahead of time, back in Thailand, the land of smiles.

I left Luang Nam Tha in Laos on Monday morning, and spent the day on a bus heading for my final (and seventh) town in Laos: Huay Xai. The journey was 'challenging,' and took roughly nine hours. In fact, the road was the roughest I've travelled anywhere in South East Asia. Throughout it was an unsealed dirt track, many parts still under construction, which wound up and down the densely overgrown mountains. I'm still astonished that our huge bus was able to make it through. The track itself was thin, and often with a ledge and drop to one side, and there were a couple of times when I really thought we might slide off and down the mountain. But we didn't, and we were all patient when we reached stages so poor that nearby construction vehicles had to be enlisted to smooth out and create a new track for us to scramble over. About four hours in, one of our front tyre's blew out (I wasn't surprised), but the driver was able to replace it with another equally bald tyre, and in admirable time. The dust we threw up as we drove was unbelievable and seeped in at every opportunity through the open crevices of the coachwork. Arriving early evening, I got off covered in a sheet of red earth, stepping down as an American woman (who had also made the journey) said, 'Jesus you look dirty.'

At my guesthouse the landlady wouldn't let me touch anything until I had been in the shower, such was the risk of contamination to her sheets and door handles. I checked into the B.A.P. Guesthouse, and shared a room with an Iraq War veteran called Justin, recently out of the army and on a break before going back to study at 'school,' and about to begin a new life out of the forces. It's a shame I was so tired when we arrived as, looking back, I should have asked him more about his time in Iraq. Interestingly, he had also been stationed in England for a time at the U.S Army Base in Huntingdon, Cambridgeshire, and knew more than I expected about East Anglia and the Norfolk Broads.

The journey from Chiang Khong to Chiang Mai was a very different kettle of fish. It began the next morning. I checked out of the B.A.P. Guesthouse about 9am, said cheerio to Justin, and strolled down the hill to the Mekong (the Mekong River forms the border divide between Laos and Thailand at this point, and you get a boat across to move between the two countries). Five minutes in the border hut and I was stamped out of Laos, three weeks of exploring complete. I jumped into a little wooden boat and chuntered across the river to the opposing border town of Chiang Khong. I was stamped on the other side with a free thirty day visa, took one last look back at lovely Laos, and then jumped in a minibus bound for Chiang Mai (the one town I wanted to visit when I was in Thailand three months ago, but which I left for later). The subsequent minibus ride was a complete contrast to my journey the previous day. Running along a wide tarmaced highway, we travelled around eighty or ninety kilometres an hour, soon covering a distance which in Laos would have easily taken double the time. I arrived in Chiang Mai late afternoon and, after a bit of conscientous hunting around, checked into the Orchid Guesthouse, which is basic, but central and cheap.

My first impression was one of slight confusion. Chiang Mai is the jewel of the hilly north of Thailand and a renowned area for hill-trekking. I had expected an evocative wooden village up in the hills, a laid back hill station. What I found was an urbanised mega-city, a kind of mini-Bangkok. This pleased me not, but as the hours have passed the place has already begun to grow on me. Last night I found a roof top hippy bar, which looks out over the city, and showed me for the first time the mountains on the horizon. Looking out as the sun set, ambient music playing in the background, a cool breeze running over my legs, I began to feel some stirrings of affection for the place. We will see if the enthusiasm grows or diminishes over the next few days.

I checked my weight yesterday for the first time in over a month, and I have put on half a stone since Vietnam. I now weigh thirteen stone. This is no problem, I could probably do with the extra weight, but it's not a trend that I want to continue, so no more cakes for the moment.

It's Wednesday morning. A busy day is ahead, but you will hear more of that in my next entry.