Now again a new start. The slow approach to a new environment, to sun and warmth, different culture, different language, different faces. Smiling, friendly, round Thai faces that are so hard to read.
A new Start in Chiang Mai
In front of me the river, the Ping River, dirty brown, calm, flowing calmly, curled by the light morning wind, behind me fragrant bushes (bougainvilleas?) In bloom, on the table the first breakfast, American breakfast with coffee, black and white heavy and sweet as hell, in front of me scrambled eggs, toast, butter and pink jam, reminiscent of chemicals and additives. But good. At that moment I would eat everything and think everything is fine.
And somewhere in the bush, an invisible pigeon cooates.
It might be spring, maybe even in Switzerland. But it's not Switzerland.
It's February, and I'm in Chiang Mai, right in the middle of the bustling center of Northern Thailand.
Snow and cold are already a distant memory.
A few hours earlier ...
After Dubai it is bright day, and so it stays over Pakistan, where the clouds dissolve and open the view to a barren desert.
Then the sky gets colored, yellow and red, the sun disappears at the horizon and leaves a warm trail of light and colors, until these too dissolve and darkness spreads.
The sea, after crossing India, turns black in the dark night, but at some point it gets lighter as we approach Bangkok's sea of lights, which we first fly over and then head for from the other side.
Touchdown.
And a few hours later, I arrive, once more, this time in dark night, in Chiang Mai, for the third, fourth, fifth time, and again I search for taxis, find them, on to the Galare Guesthouse, once more. I even know where the taxi has to turn to get to the narrow alley leading to the hotel.
And then, finally, the room, the shower, the bed, the sleep ...
Moments of happiness
There are those moments of happiness that come when you least expect them. The first one, as I leave the darkened hotel room, step out into the morning, which smells of summer and heat and freshness, my head still heavy with my long sleep, my eyes swollen, my eyes veiled. An explosion of the senses, it seems to me that the system is switched to another mode in this very moment.
Expectations are high. I am here and everything is waiting for me.
Changed and yet the same
And now: a few hours later, in the hustle and bustle of the city, somewhere in a slightly quieter corner in the shade of flowering trees, fried noodles with egg and a horrible looking giant glass with a pink liquid in it, red soda, with a thousand ice cubes.
I am thirsty, but I can do without this refreshment. Finally we continue tomorrow, with the Green Bus heading north, to Chiang Khong, to my beloved Mekong, where I can't afford diarrhea.
Finally on the way
I am finally on the way north to Mekong, or at least until Chiang Khong, where I will finally meet my old friend, the Mekong, again.
For a change, not with a run-down local bus, but a VIP bus, the body shines in the sunshine as if it had been freshly scrubbed and polished.
The resolute lady, responsible for the interior organization, shows me where I am with a stern look and hands over a packed lunch (!) With an unctuous expression. Inside is a soft drink (sweet), a kind of sandwich (dry) and something sweet (indefinable).
Northbound
Rice fields scurry past the window, most dried up (dry season), some filled with pale water. On grassy fields a few scattered, surprisingly skinny cattle, heads lowered, in search of food.
Sometimes a low roof, above it a column of blackish smoke floating motionlessly, at the roadside a black-furred donkey, next to it a carriage loaded with crates. But also cars, many, many cars, all of Asian origin. The solidarity plays ...
The small hands of the driver lie relaxed on the steering wheel, he turns it with elegant, almost tender movements, and always a tiny nuance before the vehicle bends into the curve, he bends his body in the intended direction. Sometimes our eyes meet in the rear-view mirror, a brief contact between two worlds.
With the VIP bus to Chiang Khong
The trip is uneventful, I slept badly and keep nodding off. However, even when half asleep you can see the pace that the chauffeur is taking: he barges through the villages with 80 things without paying much attention to the other road users. Remember: the bigger one is always the stronger. I remember that vividly, albeit painfully, from my first trip to India.
Then Chiang Khong, the day's destination, on the Mekong. Here it is finally, my Mekong, which I have been looking forward to for so long. Broad, brown, fast, massive, strong. A monster by a river. You greet each other like old friends ...
And there is my old friend, a long-term traveler who has been around Asia for many years. There's a lot to talk about until late in the evening. It gets surprisingly cold, which in the night leads to the fact that, contrary to expectations, I have to fall back on my warm underwear that was packed at the last moment ...
P.S. Matching Song: Bishop Briggs - River
And here the journey continues ...
