Night Market Art

On the ground floor of the Night Market building in Chiang Mai is a fun, and impressive, group of stalls. The Artists. Here, you can get everything. A portrait of your kids copied from a photograph, the National Geographic green eyed gal from Afghanistan which seems to be popular now, tigers for this Chinese Year of the Tiger, the Mona Lisa - you name it, they'll paint it.

Standing behind these artists, watching as they work on their paintings or charcoal drawings is quite something.  They all have a photograph in their hands, some peering through clipped on magnifying glasses to see the details. They are very very skilled copyists.

This trip to Chiang Mai, I came with a quest. To find an artist to do a very special project. No, not to paint The Boys, although maybe one day I will. This time I was looking for someone to help me with a part of my own art project. My miniature theater. (See previous post). I had built a foam board prototype to figure out the dimensions (20 inches wide, 15 inches deep and 15 inches high), found the photo of the Venetian canal scene I wanted, and was looking for someone to paint the theater backdrop for me. So, photo in hand, I went looking.

I wandered through the stalls until I found Him. Dusit. I produced my photo, consulted with the boss, negotiated the price...

As an aside,  I'm not a big fan of bargaining. To say the least. In Asia I get excited if the shops HAVE fixed prices. For me, paying the bill is not a sport. And indeed it seems pretty pointless for things of small value (unlike this painting). For example, in Viet Nam, the bargaining gets absurd, in my mind, when you're looking at things like simple silk scarves for $2.00.  Like, what's the point of getting your you know what in a knot over 25 cents? Obviously I'm missing whatever point there is to the whole exercise.

When I'm not in the mood, which is often, what I do is listen to the first asking price and then ponder at some length, which usually means I'm desperately trying mentally to figure out what country I'm in, what the currency is, and what the U.S. dollar exchange rate value is. This, for me, is harder than it might seem. I stay quiet a long time, because if the truth be told, I'm a complete dummy without my calculator - but the vendor often can't handle the long silence and the wait for a reply. My ineptitude seems to be marginally effective. Sometimes they even reduce the price before I respond. "Oh and those items are 20% off today", they say, before I even ask. (This happens often in River City in Bangkok - especially when the airports have been closed by demonstrators and the tourists have vanished.) Very often, I'll just ask for a better price, which they give me, and close the deal. I mean, 10 more percent off $2.00 is, what? Do I care?

Sometimes trying to bargain can backfire. Across from our hotel in Chiang Mai there is an art shop where we found a long coveted Burmese prayer book for sale. How much? 7000 baht. Wow. Really? The saleswoman says that prices are fixed in this shop. My partner in art says, how about 6000. The young woman says, I'll have to call my boss. She does and it turns out she's made a mistake. The piece is really for sale for 15,000 baht. We left, and through clenched teeth I announce "you are not allowed to bargain, ever again". What happened next? Well...you see, we really wanted it so went back later and bought it. Close to double the initial mistaken asking price. Turned out it's still a complete bargain, if you look around, which we hadn't beforehand.

So where was I before I got digressed? Standing in the Night Market, negotiating my Venetian theater backdrop painting. I didn't mention a single price. All I did was stand there, once we had determined that they could do the job within the timeframe I thought I had (this was before I knew I'd be there for longer than we'd thought) and hummed and hawed and frowned and pursed lips, and without a word out of my mouth, the price kept getting lower and lower.

A week later I returned. Dusit was putting the finishing touches on the painting and I was thrilled. Completely. Exceeded expectations. Brilliant. As I said to my companion, "now I have to step up to the plate, get at it, and  make this theater project worthy!" Now I'm inspired as well.

Thank you Dusit and all the artists of the Night Market. One of these days I may even have them paint The Boys - or perhaps, the Mona Lisa.

Beauty and the Chiang Mai Flower Festival

Our arrival in Chiang Mai  coincided with the annual Chiang Mai Flower Festival, a big event in the city. The festival headquarters was set up in a park on the edge of the old town, where hundreds of booths displayed the most gorgeous flowers in bloom, mostly orchids. A riot, as they say, of color. Exuberant musicians and dancers performed on outdoor stages around the city and on Saturday morning there was a huge parade. Huge. It started around 8:00 in the morning and was still going through the city at noon. Dozens and dozens of large, flower-bedecked floats, marching bands, costumed people and many many spectators snapping pictures. Including me. Later, on Saturday night, in the carnival-atmosphere park,  families gathered to socialize, eat great stall food, see the floats up close and generally enjoy themselves. It was fun. There were festival prizes given out for everything. Best float, best floral displays and, of course, most beautiful women. The Miss Chiang Mai Festival Queen.

No, not him. But I think this little guy was the star of the show.

Apparently there was some controversy this year prior to the festival when organizers decreed that you had to be a woman, born and bred, to enter the beauty contest. Some said that this was blatant discrimination against the katoeys, the ladyboys, the transgendered.

Others observed that allowing katoeys to enter the contest might put the "real" women at a disadvantage because the ladyboys were actually more beautiful than they were. Here's some pictures from recent Miss Ladyboy contests held every year in Pattaya. You judge.

 

 

In a high school in northeastern Thailand the administration has constructed a third washroom for its boys who identify as transgendered. The headmaster estimates that in any given year this represents something like 10-20% of the boy student population.

The Trip That Wasn't

We returned this evening to Manila after our trip to northern Thailand, Laos and Bangkok.

Well, not really. This particular trip lies within the category of "shit happens".

One of our party, while on the early part of our motorcycle tour of northern Thailand, had an accident while trying to avoid hitting a woman on a bicycle. A broken collarbone, bruised ribs and scraped flesh later, we had an inside view of the Thai acute care medical system. (Excellent, I might say, even in our little hospital way up north, close to the Burmese border). But that was the end of our adventure (TOO much excitement) and we went back to Chiang Mai to heal and recuperate.

We all split up and went different ways and I ended up spending about 2 weeks in Chiang Mai. Which I may say, turned out to be a good thing. I can always go back to Laos, and for sure I will, and I can always go back to northern Thailand - even on a motorcycle - and I probably will, but I don't think I ever would have gone back to Chiang Mai and spent 2 weeks there - and I am SO glad it happened that way. Shall I say that the city has grown on me, big time? More to come.

By the way. Every visitor who has come to see us in the Philippines has remarked on the people on motorcycles. Particularly the fact that whole families, including little kids, ride with no motorcycle helmets. Sometimes you will even see Mom and Dad with helmets, but the baby in between is completely unprotected. In Vietnam, Ground Zero for motorcycles, they have laws requiring helmets. Some don't like to wear them - they are hot and mess up the hair - they call them "rice cookers". But tough - you have to.

In Thailand, no such laws it seems. If we had not been wearing helmets...this would be a much much sadder blog post. For sure.

But all is well.

On the Road Again

Tomorrow morning we're off on another adventure. A few weeks in Thailand and Laos (again). This trip includes, among many other things, a motorcycle trip in northern Thailand. Yikes.

I feel like I've been back to Laos so many times that perhaps I should start shopping for a pied a terre. I say that I am on the list for the first Laos retirement visa, should they, when they, start issuing them.

I think I am joking. Sort of.

Maybe not.

Take care my friends - netbook travels with us now so email access occasionally.

Back end February.

Thank You, Claudia

Every now and then, if you are within earshot of me, and I sincerely hope that you are not, you will hear me utter aloud the prayerful words "Thank you, Claudia".

I'm talking about the dark underbelly of Asian travel. Toilets.

After over 2 and a half years of living and traveling here, I'm still pretty dazed and confused over the whole subject. Now as a disclaimer, every single travel blogger out there sooner or later writes about this. I never claimed to be original.

Some things are relatively simple. The fact that very often there is no toilet paper is a no brainer. It only takes one lesson to learn that you must always have Kleenex in your purse. Always. Years and years ago when Howard was working at a Jamaican government office in Kingston the managers were each solemnly issued, and no doubt signed for, their own rolls of toilet paper to keep in their desks as there was never any in the bathrooms. (I think it was a theft issue). When I heard about this I had quite a hilarious image in my mind of people wandering up and down the office halls possessively clutching their rolls to their chests.

What is really puzzling to me is why, in the Philippines, you very often find that the toilets in the women's washrooms have no seats. And not in scruffy places either. Could be office buildings, "upscale" malls, airport. (Well the airport is a scruffy place, but that's another story). It's a poser.

The whole bucket of water thing was also initially mystifying. The first time I came upon it I was in a local restaurant somewhere in Manila. There, in the ladies' room, or Comfort Room (CR) as they call it here,  was a toilet with no flusher handle. Instead there was a basin full of water with a bucket. After gazing at it for some time, perhaps scratching my head, I stuck said head out of the door to ask my girlfriends who were standing there waiting, "What the hell am I supposed to do with this bucket of water?" The two, being the old Asia hands that they were, burst out laughing, but eventually took pity on me and explained the mechanics of flushing toilets. (For those as clueless as I was, the right answer is you pour water into the toilet bowl and magically it seems to flush it through).

However, under no circumstances are you to put toilet paper or purse Kleenex into the toilet bowl wherever you may suspect that the water pressure is not up to snuff. Sometimes a sign warns you about this, often not. That's what that wastepaper bin is for.

Equally puzzling is the water hose that is to be found beside the toilets. Conceptually I get it, it's for washing off the who-who (technical term). But exactly how do you manoeuver that without getting wet clothes and what if there is no toilet paper to dry off with? I'm bewildered. Apparently there is a high tech version of this out of Japan where the toilet itself will wash and blow dry you. Not only that but it comes equipped with a pre-warmed seat, massage options, auto-lid opening with proximity sensor, germ-resistant seat, air conditioning (?), glow-in-the-dark surface, dual water jets with soap mixture, as well as music to help you relax. I think we need one.

Then there's the whole squat toilet thing. Apparently squat toilets are very common in Asia, indeed the norm in most places. Again, I have no idea how they work. What do you do with your clothes? How do you stay balanced? I don't think I've even squatted at all since kindergarden and certainly never to go to the bathroom. Well maybe once behind a tree in extremis. However, it seems that lots of other people, much smarter than me, have it figured out. As a matter of fact even in the hyper-modern airport in Singapore, in addition to the half a dozen or so "normal" stalls there is one squat toilet stall for those who prefer it.

Having said all this, most of the times the toilets of my travels have been just fine, or at least bearable.

But every now and then you are confronted with this...

Took this shot in the "bathroom" of a temple complex near Hue in Viet Nam. I can't begin to tell you the overwhelming feeling of despair when one's eyes first land on a sight like this. What now?

And that's where Claudia comes in.

Before I came to Asia, my pal Claudia, who was a distributor for the product, gifted me with a box of P-Mates, a device that according to their website, "is a portable device that allows women to pee standing up wherever and whenever they need to, without losing their dignity (emphasis mine) or risking unhygienic and unpleasant public restrooms". Used by hikers and travelers, the product was the best possible present. I keep one folded in my bag at all times and thank goodness it's not that often needed. But when it is, boy it sure is!

Thank you, Claudia.