AN ENGLISH MAN IN BANGKOK 3

"What time's breakfast?" I ask the woman on the front desk.
     "February."

Y'know how when you travel - you don't have to learn the native lingo because 'everybody speaks English'?  Well that doesn't work so well.

Hullo, the internet. My name's Adam and today I'd like to talk to you about travelling and shit.

I am a bro. 

I am a bro who wonders why the Chiang Mai Night Market is at night. I mean, idk, it opens at 6pm and closes at 11pm. 'Seems like silly opening hours to me.

But then - I'm a stranger in a strange land.

I am a bro.

The heat and humidity hit you like some viscous wall. 
Like a hot towel draped across your body. 
Your brow becomes slick with beads of sweat. 
Your penis becomes flaccid. ('Not sure what happens to vaginas.)
You can taste the humidity. Feel it on your skin. 
During the day - it's too hot to think. Too hot to barter. This is why the Chiang Mai Night Market is at night. 

(Normally I'd have a photo of the Night Market here

with a lulzy caption. The internets' aren't great in this hotel so I can't upload stuff :( sadface.)

But I'm getting ahead of myself. 
I should probably start at the beginning.
I guess in a roundabout kind of way that this holiday situation is a 'business trip'. (I mean, I wasn't planning to do a lot of business - much like 'working from home' - but it's actually been fantastic from a business pov.) I've found some superb suppliers for when I return to England.

For those of you who don't know me (massive shout out ((type out?)) to my brothers and sisters reading from the US. Did you know that most of this blog's traffic comes from the US? This blog is international) I'm self employed and sell personalised wooden gifts. I engrave pictures and names onto these wooden gifts (via pyrography via superhugedino).

When asked, on administrative pieces of paper and shit, what my profession is - I write 'craftworker'. 

I could write 'artist' but I don't want to be a dick about it. 

Anyways, in addition to my wooden dreams, I also sell little odds and sods from India. I've found some excellent stuff over here. It's all Fair Trade from local fuckers and legit. 

(Think photograph of little handmade elephants, squat teddy bears

made out of recycled fabric, and other authentic objets d'art. Real Bon Marché.)

There's also a UPS in the Night Market, so it's completely viable to buy a load of crap and then send it back to wherever home is. (Example: 10kg is about £40 and takes 2 weeks. Fully insured. With tracking number. They also offer airmail, but the price rises sharply. Don't thank me - I just want to help. This blog is helpful. To help is its own reward <3 heart symbol.)

Moar importantly I found an awesome bar in the middle of the Night Market. 

Lured in by honky-tonk covers of classic rock, I find possibly the honkiest bar in all of Chiang Mai. So many white people; packpackers keeping it casual, cool dads bobbing their heads to the kick beat, and women on the wrong side of 40 laughing too loud. Give it up, sister. Your flower has wilted. Shhh now. 

It's an open jam night run by this Thai bro called Boi. Boi looks like Hendrix circa Electric Ladyland but minus the afro. Boi has a mess of curly black hair and a smile which shines like the sun. Boi is a ferocious guitarist and introduces me to the local Chang brand beer. 
Boi loves music, situations, and lols. 
Boi absolutely loves it.

Also playing is some Australian bro called Moon Dog. (His name is Moon Dog, he plays a song called Moon Dog, and wears a T shirt with a silhouette of a moon and a dog. Such a strong personal brand.)

Also playing is some American guy who fucking sucks.

I meet a bro called Ollie from Cambridge who's on a mission to save the world. 
He must save the children. 
He must save the impoverished masses. 
He must save the world. I dated a woman once who loved all that noise, so I can sort of chat shop with him. 

• We must all put our weapons down and form One Nation. 
• If a bro has a gun in one hand and a hand grenade in the other hand, then that bro cannot shake hands with another bro :( sadface.
• Make a change. 
• Be the change. 
• JUSTICE!!!1 

(You get the idea.)

I meet a sister called Noah who works between London and Bangkok. Like me, she is a 30 year old child. Like me, she doesn't much care for Bangkok.

Noah looks like Tia Carrere circa Waynes World. She's a Thai native but speaks with a thick London accent. Go figure. She points me in the direction of some lively hostels just by the City Gate. Atm, I've mostly stayed in snoozefest, zzz, boring hotels. I need to mix it up. Like The Boss, I need a little of that human touch.

I am a bro.
I am a bro who loves me some of that honky-tonk classic rock.


WHAT HAVE WE LERNED?

• I think that I misjudged Tuk Tuk drivers. I've taken a couple now (via the hotel to the city) and they've both been legit.
• Chang brand beer gives you a wicked, nasty hangover.
• Ollie says this is because they don't regulate the booze content. Win.
• A regular hotel double room (think Premier Inn) costs about £12.
• Chiang Mai is lovely. Lots less cluttered than Bangkok.
• White people love hanging out with other white people. Like farm animals left in an open field - we group together. For safety. For lols. Forever.
• My 'travellers beard' is coming on nicely. 'Feel bohemian.
• When in a cab or Tuk Tuk - look about for landmarks to find your way back on foot. Shops and billboards and statues and stuff.
• That is all.

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