Back in Bangkok

A lot of people have left Bangkok, taking advantage of the four days of new year's holiday.
But that doesn't seem to make any difference to the crowds in the city. Everyone is gearing up for the new year's festivities, buying all sorts of buiscuits and strnage jellied sweet things. Apple guesthouse is full. While I was away one of Mama's "guests" left in the middle of the night without paying his bill. Another "guest" has overstayed his visa by two months, is running out of money and hardly leaves the premises at all, so terrified is he of being arrested. Of course the longer he stays the worse it will be when the authorities do catch up with him. He hasn't paid the rent for weeks. Mama is too kind to throw him out. All sorts of odd people turn up at this place and she's nice to them all.

Christmas Tree in Chiang Mai

It's made out of CDs and I think it's going to be illuminated

My Travel Companions





Denitsa, Emmanuel and Pierre

I'm looking very fat because I'm wearing my purse and passport under my pullover.





Chiang Mai

Chiang Mai, walled city of the north of Thailand, with its narrow leafy streets, is cool today with overcast skies and a gentle breeze.

Yesterday evening I said goodbye to my travelling companions from France and Bulgaria, as they tried to find a cheaper and more uncomfortable bus to Bangkok, while I headed into the centre of Chiang Mai to find a place to sleep. We had travelled from Tham Lod the Thai way, in the back of a pick up truck, unfortunately sharing the space with some large pieces of machinery, covered with black grease, arriving covered in soot, our hair stiff.  Our driver kindly took us all the way to the bus station, probably out of his way. People in Thailand are so kind.

My travelling companions had walked most of the way from Chiang Mai to Pai, backpacks on their backs, without guide, staying in local people's houses. It took them a week. This was before I met them. I like people who travel like that, though my back wouldn't allow me to carry my whole luggage that way.

I tramped the streets of old Chiang Mai last night, until I found a room for 150 Baht. It has a bed and a lock on the door, a shower with a leaking tap (better than a leaking toilet, like there was in the last place) but not a very convivial place.

Chiang Mai is full of temples and monks and surrounded by mountains. Vestiges of the city walls, built around 1800 still remain in places.

Christmas in Tham Lod

More or less the same group of us set off today in search of the Christmas cave. We walked up and down steep hills, along deserted roads, near-vertical rocks towering above us, tufts of vegetation sprouting out of the top and sides, clumps of banana trees among the forest of trees of all shapes and sizes. Then we turned off the road onto a path so steep and slippery that it was very difficult to get a foothold. All sorts of vegetation clung to our clothes, leaving seeds, some star shaped, some like tiny needles, some round  prickly burrs, embedded in our trowsers, socks, shirts sleeves, even clingling to our bootlaces. The path went uphill steeply through thicker and thicker vegetation. Eventually someone decided that we had gone past the "turn off" to the stream, so we trudged back. I left the rest of them to keep looking and walked back to the road, where the dog, who had accompanied us, was sensibly waiting for someone to walk back with.

One of the girls came back later and said that eventually they found a cave with a river running through it. The French guys set off to find another cave and they haven't come back yet. It's getting dark . I hope they come back soon. I have bought some more of that Thai rum, coconut cream and orange juice to make that Christmas bacida that was so popular last night.

The guy who runs this place has found a branch of a fir tree and decorated it with lights. Hes also hung fairy lights from the rafters creating quite a festive atmosphere.

Tham Lod cave

I set off this morning with three young French men, a Bulgarian woman and a Canadian couple. At the entrance to the cave we hired a couple of bamboo rafts to take us into the cave. A Thai woman sits with a hurricane lamp at the front of the raft and a man stands on the back with a long bamboo pole, which he uses to push the raft along, like a punt. In the middle of the cave he moors the raft and the woman takes her passengers up steep steps into a series of caves within the cave. The air is hot and thick with the smell of burning parafin from the lamps. Enormous stalactites hang down ominously, threatening to fall on our heads at any moment. Stalacmites form strange honeycomb shapes and numerous phalic. One of the cave is home to numerous ancient coffins, carved from whole tree trunks.  No skeletons though. As we left the central part of this labyrinthine cave system, once more on our bamboo craft, fish crowded around us, leaping out of the water, begging for fish food. We had none. The fish accompanied us the rest of the way. The roof of the last part of the cave was completely covered with black clusters of bats, and the sides of the cave were covered with their excrement.  A woman with a sack was collecting bat excrement, maybe swift excrement too - swifts live in the cave at night.

We left the cave and set off along a forest path, past a tiny monastery, along a red earth path. At a certain point the French men decided to head off into the forest along a narrow trail. We followed, as the path gradually deteriorated and eventually dissappeared altogether. At this point the Canadians turned back and shortly afterwards I and the Bulgarian girl also turned back. We left the boys to play at being lost in the forest and headed back to Cave Lodge.

Tham Lod

I'm in a big airy building with teak floors, open sides and dried leaf roof. I can see green leafy tops of trees, and hear birdsong, the sound of a river and faint distant cow bells.

 I caught a local bus from Pai, that crawled up and down the steep hills, through thick forest to Soppong, then hitched a ride in a van that was bringing some people back from  Kayaking trip. There's a cave not far from  here, that I must go and investigate. This is tribal territory, Lisu, Hmong and black Hmong.

Pai

I'm in a little bamboo hut, (not the one in the picture, but one just like it) by the river in Pai.
It is raised on short stilts, traditional style, has woven bamboo walls and floor and a roof made out of dried leaves. I think I'm going to need all my winter clothes in the night because it gets very cold here.

From my front door I can see a field of something green, dense vegetation and a steep, thickly wooded hill. We are at 600 metres altitude, about 100km from Chiang Mai and it took four and a half hours for the old bus to get us here, grinding up and down steep mountain roads all the way. The bus was full of people and goods. Two huge polystyrine boxes of something were stacked on top of the hump between the driver and me (in the front seat), threatening to tip over every time we went round a steep corner. I and a monk sitting behind managed between us to keep the tottering pile in one place.

The overnight train from Bangkok to Chiang Mai was delightful, though they do keep the air con turned up terribly high. I was glad of my sleeping bag and pullover. The train waiters are a band of rogues though. They come round in the evening trying to sell exhorbitantly expensive drinks and food and take orders for breakfast. Then after breakfast, when you come to pay, they try to overcharge you, arguing cunningly that this was extra, or that was extra, and only after a lot of haggling do you get away with something near the list price. Our waiter was small and thin with a high pitched giggle. Later I decided to check out the bar. He said "no". I went anyway and found all the waiters and waitresses eating the left over breakfasts and getting drunk on beer and Thai whisky, playing loud music, singing along and swaying to the music.
"You can't stay here," he said . "You have to order something." so I ordered a bottle of water and sat looking out of the window, while my erstwhile waiter, obviously the life and soul of the party, proceeded to change into a red t-shirt and start cooking what looked like green papaya salad.

Jazz in Bangkok

I was walking along the road near Phra Athit Pier when I heard jazz. I looked through the window of a bar and saw a young boy, sitting at a piano, surrounded by a group of musicians much older than him, playing jazz. As I walked in I noticed that everyone in the bar was Thai and they were all grooving to the music. I turned to  the woman near me and said how amazing I thought this young boy was. It turned out he was her son. He'd been exposed to jazz ever since she was pregnant with him and he started to play piano when he was five. By the time he was nine he was playing jazz. Now he was twelve. His fingers flew over the keys, improvising lavishly, but always in tune with the mood and tempo of the others in the band. They played jazz standards, blues, bossanova, and a great funk number.

By the time I left, found something to eat in the market and made my way home, Mama had locked the front gates. I let myself in and walked past her sleeping form under her mosquito net in the middle of the room, on my way to the stairs.

Today I caught the river bus down river, intending to visit China town. But I ended up in Wat Pho, another gloriously over the top temple, where I saw the biggest reclining Buddha (in Thailand? inthe world? surely there must be another even bigger somewhere in India?) I was glad to sit down in a little restaurant that used to be a Thai apothecary, complete with teak ceiling and glass fronted teak drug cupboards and tiled floor. Now the cupboards house carved soaps, tea pots, gold plated hands on pedestals and a gold plated horse.

The Grand Palace Bangkok

I caught the river bus, a very crowded boat, down river to visit the grand palace.
The grand palace was built towards the end of the eighteenth century, in a severe European style, with pillars and balustrades and arched windows. On top of this someone in his infinite wisdom built a multitiered Thai roof, sparkling with gold leaf, golden nagas shooting their heads up into the sky. The whole effect is ridiculous.

The temple complex, within the grand palace walls, is a flashy, kitch confection of gold leaf, multicoloured mosaics, tiles painted in ice cream colours. A Stupa in the centre of the palace complex is completely covered in gold leaf. Thai devotees buy lotus flowers and incence sticks to give as offerings. Many buy small pieces of gold leaf to stick onto a small golden statue of Buddha.

The palace and temple gardens are adorned with trees, clipped and bonsaied to within an inch of their lives.

Bangkok

I finally made it to Bangkok. I am so happy to have left that nightmare place - Patayaia. I'm at the Apple Guest house, down a narrow alley, near the river on one side and near the night market on the other. Apple is run by the wonderful Mamma, a little thai woman, who walks slowly on arthritic legs. Mamma shies away from publicity. Her guest house is not in the lonely planet or the rough guide.

A room with a bed and a fan and a flimsy lock on the door, with a lovely polished teak floor, sets you back 180 Baht (about £2). Paper thin walls separate the rooms. A steep teak staircase leads down to the ground floor, where Mamma appears to live, amongst washing machine, wardrobe, beds, TV and assorted junk. Toilets and showers are downstairs too. Some of the motley collection of guests sometimes sit with Mamma and pinch the remote control from her and try to find channels in European languages. She doesn't seem to mind. However she definitely doesn't allow anyone to wear their shoes indoors, or to smoke in the house. Mamma commands respect.

A couple of rickety benches outside provide a socialising area. Mamma provides cold beer for 55 Baht per bottle. The socialising goes on until late at night. Our rooms are far too hot to sleep in until past midnight.

Everyone goes to the night market to eat. This  is just a narrow street, with bright lights, food stalls on one side and bars playing loud music on the other. 

Arrived

The best laid plans. . . .
I had it all worked out. Catch the airport bus to Bang Lam Poo and stay in the Apple guest house.
But. . .the airport bus has been cancelled. Taxi costs a fortune. Can't seem to find anyone to share a taxi with. All the tourists seem to know exactly where they are going. No touts. Information don't seem to speak much English.
Eventually I met a tourist who told me that I could catch a bus to Patayaia, a beach resort, which I did.
On the bus I met a Canadian man who lives in Patayaia, who helped me find a place to stay and offered to find me a cheap place to stay for a week, if I wanted.

But this morning I woke up and went out and decided that I did not like this place at all. High rise hotels, wall to wall beach umbrellas, old ugly men with young beautiful Thai women. Yuk!!

Luckily for me, my canadian friend told me that there's a bus to the airport and a train from the airport to the centre of Bangkok, which is where I should have gone in the first place, so tomorrow morning I'm off to Bangkok.

Christmas decorations

A store in the middle of Florence is completely covered with lights, from the roof to the ground. In another street, olive trees in pots have been made into giant lamps, that look like nothing so much as olive trees squashed uncomfortably under mosquito nets.

The Indian film festival came to an end.
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The rain continued.

And Robert took part in an exhibition which takes place every year all over Florence in people's private homes. People offer their homes to artists, who exhibit.
www.privateflat.it

And I am off to Rome tomorrow, to catch a plane to Bangkok. Feeling a bit uncertain about how I'm going to cope with the big city - somewhere I've never been before.

Florence in the rain

Rain, rain, rain. It didn't rain in Florence for months and months, so now it has to do it all at once.
You can try to walk very near to the walls, on the narrow pavements, under the overhanging roofs. But every now and then there is a broken gutter, and a waterfall crashing down on the pavement. Or there are a row of rubbish bins, shoved up against the wall, forcing you out into the street, or someone has tied up their bicycle. Of course you can use an umbrella, but the rain drops are so big and fall so fast that the water pours off your umbrella, splashing your legs. The rainy season was supposed to be in November, but it just waited for me to arrive in December!

More films? A feelgood Bollywood movie last night, set in Spain, not the sort of movie one associates with Bollywood. But fun. And with my absolute favourite Indian actor Hrithic Roshan. The title?
Zindagi na milegi dobava - You won't get to live twice.

Selvaggia was almost apologetic about showing something so low brow as a Bollywood movie. But the cinema was packed and everyone loved it. I think this movie might make it onto our screens in England.


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Florence by Night

Robert took me to a friend's house for dinner, on a bicycle. In the rain. Over cobbled streets. On bicycles with no lights, without helmets. Bouncing along over the cobbles, precariously perched on my bicycle, I noticed that there were lots of other people on bicyles without lights or helmets. The streets are narrow in much of the city and the cars have to wait behind the bicycles as they wobble along. In fact cars are barely tollerated in Florence. The whole centre of the city is traffic free, which means - full of pedestrians, who wander about all over the street, completely oblivious of the bicycles trying to get past them. Robert weaves in and out of the pedestrians expertly, while I have to keep stopping to avoid crashing into someone.

Tagore at Indian Film Festival

2011 is the 150th anniversary of the birth of Rabindranath Tagore, the famous Indian poet and writer.
The River to River Festival in Florence is celebrating his life and works through a series of films, including a docudrama biography by Satyajit Ray.

Rabindranath Tagore was born in Calcutta, into a large and talented family. He was sent to four different schools and hated every one of them. This  was to lead to his interest in education and eventually the founding of a school, where the children were taught outside, sitting on the ground, under the trees, rather than indoors, like caged animals. They were taught music, art and dance in addition to the normal curriculum.

Rabindranath began to write poetry, songs and prose when he was a teenager and was soon published. He also managed his father's estates, where he became aware of the poor living conditions of the workers. He did everything he could to improve them. This was the beginning of his lifelong concern for the plight of the poor.

Tagore translated some of his writings into English, took them to England, where he showed them to someone, who was so impressed that he had them published. This led to world wide recognition and the Nobel prize for literature. After this Tagore became a sought after speaker and travelled widely, meeting and making friends with many of the world's most famous intellectuals, including Einstein, Bhose, Ghandi.

Tagore believed that the way to promote world peace was through collaboration and communication between intellectuals of all nationalities. He founded a university that attracted people from Europe and the US, some of whom stayed for their whole lives, dedicating their time to working in the University. Throughout his life, Tagore inspired people, involving them in his projects.

At the age of 70 he began to paint, quite accidentally. He was doodling on a page covered with writing. Gradually his doodles began to take interesting shape and from this evolved a unique style of art.

Tagore died in Calcutta in 1971, aged 80.


Tagore was opposed to the division of Bengal by the British, believing that this would cause hatred between the moslems and the hindus, who, up until that time, had lived peacefully together.  He wrote extensively on this subject and one of his stories was made into anther film by Satyajit Ray. This film was shown after the biopic.

Indian Film Festival in Florence

They were piling into the Odeon cinema on the first evening of the film festival, filling up the soft, comfortable seats in this Art Deco cinema. Half past eight came and went, press photographers took photos of the audience, people chatted, time passed. We were waiting for the Indian Ambassador. Finally at 9 oclock the Ambassador arrived, accompanied by Selvaggia, resplendent in a sari, smiling serenely (probably paddling desparately under water) to make the introductions.

The film started, then broke down. Time passed. The film finally got going.
We finally left the cinema at midnight.

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