Chiang Mai Old Town

Chiang Mai is as different a world from Bangkok as most British parochial towns are from London.

The first thing that we noted is the evenings are much cooler and, on occasions, a light sweater was called for. Jane, as usual, was well prepared, but Robert was not, so I relied on double-up tee shirts. No, you’re absolutely right, it’s nowhere near the same.

As I mentioned last time, we were staying at the Tamarind Village Hotel, so named because of the giant tamarind tree, believed to be in excess of 200 years old, in the garden. It is a grand beast, that is for sure.

The hotel takes its design influence from the Lan Na and hill tribes that used to occupy the region. The entrance is spectacular. It is an arched tunnel constructed from bamboo. It is like going through a time-tunnel as you enter from a bustling street, before emerging into a space epitomising serenity. It is quite splendid. All the staff seem very happy to be part of the team, something that, in my mind, can’t be faked.

The literal translation of Chiang Mai is New City; Chiang meaning city, and Mai meaning new. We had not allowed ourselves enough time to savour this place at leisure, especially in my case as I managed to contract a debilitating migraine out of nowhere. It is only in recent years that I have fallen foul of such pesky headaches, and I only have three or four each year. When they hit, though, boy do they hit hard. It usually means five to seven days recuperating in a quiet and darkened room. Fortunately, this one, by comparison, was fairly mild, and it knocked me out for two days only.

We shall get underway with a complimentary walking tour of the old town part of the new city. A very small group of fresh guests congregated in reception where we were met by our guide, a lady named Tana.

Chiang Mai was first established close to the banks of the Ping River in 1296 as the capital of the Lan Na people. It needs to be pointed out here that it isn’t only idiotic UK councils that permit developments to be constructed in flood plains. King Mangrai was an early adopter of this idea, creating several capitals before settling on its current site. It is still subject to flooding today.

Tana really was a first-class guide with perfect English and a very clear diction. I asked why the nation had dropped the name Siam in favour of its present name, I quite liked Siam. There are many of these old titles I like. I prefer Persia to Iran and Mesopotamia to Iraq.

It’s not down to me, though, and the good burghers in Bangkok decided that Siam, from the Sanskrit word meaning dark skinned, did not really offer the nation a true identity. In this day and age, it is hard to conceive that anyone thought it a good idea to name an area for the colour of its natives’ skin. After some deliberation, in 1949, they hit on the Siamese word for freedom, Thai, and the English word for land, land, and renamed the country we know today, Thailand. I do not think that I can support the name of Siam any longer.

Another inappropriate institution in the modern west would be the Women’s Vocational Training Centre. Can you imagine if every town and village had a school or college where young ladies could go to learn cooking, cleaning, massage and other female only skills, at the absolute exclusion of men? Women in the land of the free don’t seem to think there is anything wrong with this.

Of course, another establishment synonymous with men only is the temple. Women can only enter at certain times. Can you see a time where churches might bar half the population from worship. It is nearly impossible to believe.

When standing outside one such facility, I would like to tell you I refused to enter in support of subjugated ladies, but the truth is I had probably had temples up to my eyeballs, I met a fellow quantity surveyor. We chatted about this and that, but I think the biggest relief, felt by both of us, is that we did not have to explain what a QS did. We did agree, though, that outside health and safety inspectors, we are probably the most hated profession in the construction industry. Between us, I think we both quite like that epithet, we would make really good secret policemen, that is we really don’t care who we might upset.

Whilst we were on tour, Tana dropped into a grocer’s shop, and open-fronted affair right on the pavement, to buy some eggs. All she did was pick her eggs, pop them in a bag, pay for them and leave the shop. There was no sign of an egg-box. Not a good idea in my case, I am 100% sure that I would smash the bag into a lamppost or some railings on the way home and would have scrambled eggs whether I wanted them or not. I wonder if there is any room for egg-box emporiums in Thailand? I can see it now, the entrepreneurial egg-box emporium Co Ltd.

Chiang Mai remained independent for around two hundred years before the Burmese conquered the place in the 1500s. It stayed as part of Burma until the eighteenth century when an army sent by Ayutthaya took it into Siamese control.

We were most fortunate to be in the city on a Sunday, especially in the area close to our hotel. It is around mid-afternoon every week that the surrounding roads are closed off and an amazing outdoor street-market springs up. Assault on the senses is a term often over-used, but on this occasion, it hit the nail on the head.

Sight, of course, was described to me, with brilliant colours to the foods, clothes and crafts on offer. Touch, one of my sight replacements, came into play as many vendors, particularly in the craft sector, on spotting my white cane, allowed me to feel my way around their products. Sound, probably the most significant of my sight replacement senses, was right to the fore, with music from buskers, other street musicians and the general hubbub that is a market, the same the world over. Smell, what a sensation, cooking food full of spice and herbs invaded the nostrils. Finally, but most of all, not least, taste is something you most certainly cannot do without, sampling street-food is something to behold in eastern societies and cannot be matched anywhere.

As the sun set, and the sun disappeared behind buildings, the place took on another ambience altogether. This type of event truly is uniquely Thai in every which way you can imagine. I know that these are not exclusive to Chiang Mai, but to me, this was a wonderful unmatched experience. Maybe we might go back and give it another go one day.

If there is one downside, and we later learned that it is against market regulations, it is the continuous flow of motorbikes through the area. Not sure why, but the authorities seem reluctant to do anything about it. We later found out that many of these bikes, often with a pillion onboard, are scouting easy prey to show off their pickpocketing skills. Not sure if this is true or not, but neither of us fell victim to this nefarious practice.

I am sorry to say, our next excursion was out of my reach thanks to the onset of a migraine. We had booked a trip out to see the elephants and paid in advance. Before I get going on this and relate Jane’s adventure to you, I have to say we were both blown away by one of the receptionists as we passed through that area the following day. We hadn’t requested, nor had we expected, a refund of my fee, so when we were presented with a wad of cash, my part of the charge, we were lost for words. We did, at that moment, vow to return every penny to the hotel in the way of making purchases, not all essential. Don’t you think that is quite admirable?

Sorry, I seem to have run out of time again. Next time I will resume at the elephant sanctuary, without me, if you see what I mean, before we take part in one of the most amazing personal tours we have ever been on.

Find Out More
Tamarind Village Hotel: https://www.tamarindvillage.com

White Cane Ratings
Tamarind Village: average, access around pool quite tight with random steps - (2)