To the edge of the world and back PART 2

The thrilling climax! Two months after the fact! Sweet crackers!

Actually, thrilling is not a word I would use. I mean, I found it thrilling but that's because I was there, beside the freaking Mekong river, in sight of nefarious Myanmar and mysterious Laos. With a pretty girl. I mean, really pretty. The only thing missing was a villain, a sidekick and a vodka martini.

Ok, so the villain will have to be the evils of cheap Thai beer and poor-crafted flooring. The sidekick will have to be my trusted hound, who ate my breakfast, wrestled mano-a-canino with me for sport, and bid me adieu as only a faithful mutt can do when Meaw and I departed. What am I missing? Oh! The vodka. Well, I don't drink vodka. It's for girls and girly men or, if drunk by the flagon, Russians. Since I am not any of those (those Meaw seems convinced that I am, in fact, a bit of a girl), we shall never speak of vodka again. And don't get me started on the martini!

So, where did I leave off? Oh, right. We had just arrived in Chiang Saen, the sun was looking to set in an hour or so and we were both more than relieved to be off the wretched coach, most of all, Meaw. It had been rough on her but at least she had had her medicine and someone to rub her belly whilst she slept fitfully. In truth the belly rubbing may not have caused any real improvement to her health - though she did reveal yesterday that it was on the way to Chiang Saen that she knew she loved me, so who knows? - but she has a lovely little tummy and I love rubbing it. On the coach. On the motorcycle. In the bed. At the restaurant. At the market. In the temple. Wherever good times be had! I may have a problem.

Anyway, we had arrived in the Edge-o'-Beyond town of Chiang Saen which is apparently a bustling tourist centre during high season. I find this hard to believe if for no other reason than the place is far too pretty. And nothing tourists touch ever stays pretty. Oh, and the fact that I was the only Johnny Foreigner in the place, a fact made all the more apparent by the whispered mutterings and wide-eyed stares of terrified children as I - and Meaw - walked by. It would prepare me well for Si Saket.

One of the original motorised tuk-tuks in Thailand drove us to our hotel, a vehicle that was nothing more than a motorcycle with a small wagon attached to the back. It was a little underpowered, to say the least. It also made up half of Chiang Saen's veritable fleet of tuk tuks.

After throwing our baggage into our spacious room at our guesthouse, a lovely little place, a short walk out of town, and after become waylaid by some acts of travel-weary lust, we set off for dinner, taking our time, walking back into town along the bank of the great Mekong river, all that stands between the Thai frontier and the savage beauty, beyond, in Laos and Myanmar. In the distance, all around in fact, I see banks of clouds rising and rising skyward into the growing darkness, only to realise that they are collossal mountain plateaus, stretching beyond the horizon.

As I took pictures of my darling sat beside the river, the sunset shining upon her face, I knew without question, without doubt and without an ounce of cynicism, that I was happy.

[to be continued at a later date, complete with pictures]

Cry more?

These past few blogs that have chronicled my Chiang Mai Redux really have been an exercise in feeling sorry for myself. This probably has a little to do with frustration and narcotic withdrawal but it doesn't make them anymore readable.

With a little luck, there will be a return to informative form once I return home...not to mention my Thesaurus, apparently, judging by this last sentence. I might even blog everything that has happened between 12th October (ish...I think; Chiang Saen, anyway) and the return to Chiang Mai on 23rd November. Wouldn't that be helpful?!

For now, some new pictures will have to do.

Some other day.

Because the USB reader here is a dud.

Damn dirty ape.

love,

- Jamie

x



Picture 1 - Of course, I'm going to start with my dearest. Looking a little strung out, after working non-stop for the past month. A day after this was taken, we were in Si Saket.


Picture 2 - This is Jane. Jane like mans. Lots of mans. Every night. A couple years younger than Meaw - as well as being another Si Saket girl, and her cousin - Jane somehow finds the energy to go out dancing and drinking until 5am (after leaving work at 2am) every night, keep as many boyfriends as there are days in the wee-, er, month and draw a steady stream of desperate men who care nothing for the health of their wotsit. Frankly, I think she looks a little beat up. It's probably all the cocaine she takes, to keep her conscious. She a nice girl, though. When she's not telling Meaw to dump me for someone rich. She also lives in the 1980s.














Picture 3 - Here are three more of Meaw's relatives, working at the massage shop with her, younger than her and even myself. The one in denim is Joy who is internet savvy and a groper. She got drunk at the shop last night, when a customer bought her booze (it was piss-weak Heineken but these Thais can't hold their drink). Big 'sister' Meaw was not amused. The one on the right is Gao, who also got drunk. Can you see where I going here? The other one's name I cannot remember - something beginning with S - but I did meet her grandmother in Cambodia, who promised to be our guide around Angkor Wat next year. Which is nice.
















Picture 4 - A random Thai chap who walked in front of Meaw's shot. Awesome!



Picture 5 - No, you cannot keep it. She's mine, dog! ...That black thing in her hands is a puppy, by the way. In case there was some confusion...
















Picture 6 - Serious business.

The looks I did get,...

...the stares I did garner.

The Red Farang, step right up! Watch him scowl, watch him growl!

For all it's quaint dilapidation, Si Saket was a happier place for me thatn the Chiang Mai I now find myself in. Of course, with trademark ingratiation, I did not realise this at the time. Instead, I sought only the quiet solitude of an infant-free bed, a warm shower and the act of holding my Meaw in my arms, warm and naked and beautiful, to my heart's content.

The truth is, though, the bed in Meaw's house was comfortable, irregardless of being situated on the concrete floor, down with the sacks of rice and the rats (no, really). The shower there was warm because Meaw would boil us up a tub of water on the charcoal stove beforehand, every bit as deliciously luxurious as it's 21st century equivalent. And when her son, Jakri, and her Mama and Papa were asleep, Meaw opened her heart to me every night, every witching hour. We loved as long and as hard and as strong in Si Saket as we do in Chiang Mai.

And in Si Saket, it was peaceful. It was comfortable. It was happy. Most of all, there was no Lucky Massage.

My sweet heart often reminds me that that wretched shop that drives her to exhaustion, was the instrument of our meeting, the place in which we began our journey together.

"Be thankful, Jamie. I am"

Yes, dear.

Yet still I loathe that place. For it's malicious little witch of a boss, Luck. For it's leering, feculent customers. For it's hold upon Meaw's existence. For she must work there. She must chat and even flirt with the customers. She must massage their flabby flesh with oil and her own hands. For she needs their money. For a customer who thinks he might possess her one day, will come back again, will tip most generously.

She is true to me. She never sells more than the idea of her body. In the dark, somewhere between slumber and wakefulness, she tells me that she wants only my body and that hers is mine to love and cherish.

I believe her. I have seen every facet of her life, her personality. She has taken me into her home, only the second man - after her deceased husband - to be so privileged.

Meaw's promises of fidelity are worth their weight in platinum...

...and yet still I am wracked with simmering anger and jealousy whenever I go to the shop, whenever I see her working, or merely talking, to a customer.

It is this fact that drove me back to England last time, more so even than my monetary woes; woes that have become much, much worse this time in Thailand (all thanks to yours truly, naturally). Worse still, I am here for two more weeks. She was given a week holiday. I had expected three weeks.

It is also becoming more and more apparent, that giving Meaw her heart's desire will be very hard for me, a vocationally-challenged chud, a poorly skilled drone, a failed writer. In my most maudlin moments, I think of begging Meaw, the love of my life and sole ray of sunshine, to leave me. To seek out a more affluent partner who will not struggle to take care of her as I will.

She says she will never do that...

...and yet I wonder at the better, grander, richer life she could have with someone - anyone - but me.

For some inexplicable reason, she loves me as much as I love her.

And it makes me weep with despair.

Slow times in Si Saket

(Picture 1 - Despite appearances and living in poverty-stricken Issan province, baby John is actually a New Yorker (on his father's side) and quite rich. Richer than me. I didn't drop him on purpose. Honest)

Seated here as I am in the al fresco kitchen of my sweet heart's parent's rustic abode, whilst said darling conjures some new inexplicable and unidentifiable Thai concoction with which to enflame, invigorate and assault my taste buds, it is easy to forget where I was six months ago. Or even six days ago, for that matter.

Actually, I can remember the latter very well; duck-walking into a wiener pig pen, knee-deep in porcine effluent and quickly finding myself surrounded by an inquisitive - not to mention hungry - horde of pink bacon bags. It wasn't supposed to work out this way...

(Picture 2 - Ma Khamphan, Meaw's mum. She can't read or write, she chews narcotic leaves she gets from the hill tribes, all day, and she's just one super lady. She also kept trying to force-feed me)

...but that, as they - whoever they are - say, is another story. One that I may find myself writing if my time here permits, or I get bored once I return from Issan, the Land that the Internet forgot.



For now, though, I can tell you about the home of the girl who, by all accounts, is the love of my admittedly short life, warts and all. Proverbially speaking, of course. Pretty girls don't have warts. They have stretch marks and calloused hands from working the rice fields and farang muscle knots. But I digress.

(Picture 3 - Pa Khamphan and the other little man in Meaw's life, Jakri. Or Lampheung. I'm not actually sure. I think it's both. Also, I got the distinct impression that neither of them liked me very much. Actually, Jakri told me as much. After eating all my chocolate. And breaking my camera.)

I arrived in Chiang Mai for the second time in as many months with a smile on my face, or at least the best approximation I could muster upon my exhausted face. My wallet was considerably lighter than when I left England, or indeed Thailand the first time. Alas, no bank account survives first contact with the enemy, I mean, a new girlfriend. That would be what they say, again. Clever chaps.

Don't mistake my tone for discontent or resentment at my financial situation, least of all to be directed at Meaw, for I surely do love her and - for some inexplicable reason beyond the realm of sense or reason - she loves me too, despite my relative poverty. I truly am crazy about her.

Having said that, her devotion to providing for her son and parents can sometimes border on zealotry. Indeed, there are times when my cynical nature and low self-esteem force me to ask the inevitable question that all homely fellows must ask: " What does this gorgeous woman really see in me?"

(Picture 5 - Bringing in the rice harvest. Yeah, I'm wearing a straw hat. Big whoop, wanna fight about it?!)

Despite this, though, she knows full well that I am not a rich man and yet still here I am, spending the week in the home of her beloved parents, making her breathlessly happy each night and hearing her cook my dinner with a smile on my face, with a smile on her face. Where is a daisy when you need one?

Anyway, I digress on the darker thoughts of mine that have little bearing on my experiences thus far in what I am only vaguely sure is in the South East of Thailand. Frankly, I would not be able to find myself on a map at this point. It's an hour or so from the Cambodian border but beyond that my ignorance is plump, juicy and fresh as a winter piglet. Not that it truly matters. I like it here. I could live here. Perhaps I will, one day.

(Picture 6 - The post harvest piss up. Thai style. It's tradition. Also, I paid for the booze, so there as much merriment and comraderie! Huzzah!)

It also occurs to me, as I see Meaw's mother and aunt staring quizically at me, from across the courtyard, as so many people here are want to dp with almost unashamed constancy, that I am a stranger in a strange land, the original Martian, the ubiquitous farang.

(Picture 7 - Guys, I swear it's not lipstick. I just got real purdy lips!)


(Picture 8 - It's ok to wear a silk scarf, if you're a hard-drinking, denim clad brusier like Tot. Apparently.)







(Picture 9 - My, this glass is small! Thankfully, Rhung (in green with the righteous hair) the one-time Buddhist monk was on hand to keep it topped.

Friends. Family. Integrity. These are the enemies you must crush...

(Picture 1 - From my last day in Chiang Mai, the first time around. So sad.)

...if you wish to succeed in the world of business.

Alas, I am no business man.

It has been some time since I have updated this, and the blog only catalogues my exploits up until Chiang Saen, a small eternity ago now. In my defense, I have been busy trying to find a job and the thought of writing in the blog usually darkened my mood, if only because it reminded me how far I was from Meaw...

...at least, it did.

(Picture 2 - She just pushed a guy off a bicycle. Note the look of singular glee)

As some of you may know, I am now back in Thailand with my darling Thidarat, two months early, jobless once more - after all of three days working, knee deep in liquid effluent - and considerably poorer. Whats more, it will cost me a small fortune to return home before the middle of January for reasons not quite clear to me. A fortune I cannot afford, if I wish to return here proper, at the end of April for Meaw's birthday. Frankly, it would be better for both of us if I could return in a week or so, so that I might start work again, after my foolish and desperate flight for Chiang Mai about ten days ago.

Not because we are sick of one another, of course, but rather because we both have big plans for our future together. Plans which, unfortunately, involve money. It is high season here in Thailand, and the tourists are out in force, and thus Meaw, when she is working, is bringing in a comfortable amount of money by Thai standards. I, however, am not and my bank account is slowly bleeding to death, I cannot truly treat her and I am in a persistent state of stress and worry over said financial woes.

Having said that, I am very glad to be back. Ecstatic, even. It is fair to say that this year's birthday was up there with my sixth, which involved a McDonald's party - children truly have no sense of style, fo sho - and an aloi moon cake, complete with blue icing and silver foil rocket ship. I'll tell you all about it in subsequent blogs because the fact of the matter is, I have plenty of time to kill here in Chiang Mai, now, since Meaw must work in that wretched massage shop everday (actually, she has Sundays off and her boss is giving her a salary on top of what she makes from each massage, because she opens and cleans and serves up coffee; frankly, Meaw should be boss of the place but that's another story) and I must not impede her from doing her job, with my moping, loitering and occassional bouts of drunken jealousy. Fortunately, I can no longer afford the latter. If I had followed the original plan, and I had worked through until the middle of January, then I could have taken care of her, and money would not be a pressing matter, and we could have spent a month off in Cambodia, Sisaket (her home) or just Big Ch M. Alas, I am a fool in love and came early, out of desperation, temporary insanity and loneliness, when I had barely scraped together enough to pay for the high season - read, expensive - ticket out here.

In fact, I don't think I did make enough to pay for it. Irregardless, my life savings will have flat lined by the time I leave on January 14th (I'll explain why I can't come back sooner, later). A fact my parents will undoubtedly remind me of at every opportunity, bless their hearts. Rightly so, of course.

(Picture 3 - Queen She-Bitch, Luck. That's right darling, just squeeze a little tighter...)

So, in summary, I am back in Thailand, almost broke and off my meds. I have a constant sense of looming panic at the back of my mind, extensive friction burns in places best left unspoken, a limp and probably a few parasitic infections picked up in the rustic surroundings of my darling's enchanting albeit rustic home village.

I am smiling again, though; something I had scarcely done at all in the month of November, despite the best efforts of my dear mum and dad to keep me focussed and fixed on the happier future.

(Picture 4 - It.. it's alive! )

If only the local newspaper needed an unqualified columnist. Oh, if only!

Toodle pip, to all those still awaiting updates on the ongoing excesses in the Orient.

- Jamie

P.S Lots of pictures to come.


(Picture 5 & 6 - Lesbian Asian Slumber-party IV - One night in Chiang Mai)